#it's a bit of a stretch but... dark jurassic. him sounding a little more at peace with her death than everyone else. ohhhh my head hurts

[campbenji]

it's going to be ben. ben knows that brooklynn's alive doesn't he. oh i'm gonna fling my head into a rock

[everybodyscupoftea]

into you

jj x unc soccer reader

ope back at it with that niche content to soothe my soul after that leafs loss tonight :)

(warnings: cursing, still unedited)

Mid-semester, you had to pull an all-nighter for a paper that was due right after your next road trip. Better to get it done before, than have to worry about something going wrong with hotel wifi. Unfortunately, you had to follow that all-nighter with early morning weights and then haul your sorry ass to class for four hours.

Before practice, one of your teammates spared a scoop of pre-workout for you, and you rode that wave of energy through sprints, keep away drills, finishing drills, and a short-sided scrimmage. By the time it ended and you made it back to your dorm room, your eyes were actually shutting.

You didn’t remember setting any of your stuff down or even getting into your bed, but the next thing you knew, you were waking up in your smelly practice gear, shoes still on, legs hanging off your bed. As soon as you sat up, every ache from not stretching properly after practice hit you at once and you groaned loudly into the empty room.

It was dark outside, but you weren’t sure what time it was. Checking your phone only made you feel bad because you had a few missed calls from JJ and texts that devolved into just question marks. You’d planned to meet him for dinner at 6, but it was already 7:30 and you were pretty sure he’d eaten without you.

You called him anyway, it was the nice thing to do. He answered, “Glad you’re alive.”

“Fuck, sorry, J. I stayed up all night last night and I just crashed after practice.”

“All good,” he answered, tone light.

With a sigh, you asked, “You ate already, huh?”

“Yeah, sorry. Thought you were ghosting me.”

You laughed, “Not intentionally.”

“I’d be down to buy you dinner, though, if you’re hungry.”

After a pause for you to think, you shifted your body to climb off your bed, “Might go grab something from the caf, it’s still open.”

“Want me to meet you there? I could really go for some of the cake right now.”

“Yeah if you want, but I-“ your words were cut off by your loud groan as your legs almost collapsed under you.

“Hey, all good over there?” JJ asked, sounding more alert and concerned.

You bit your lip, “I really hate to ask after I totally ditched you earlier, but I don’t think I can make it to the caf right now.”

JJ laughed, “I gotcha, anything in particular you want?”

Grabbing your laptop, you put your phone on speaker and set it on your desk so you could look at what the caf was serving that day. He waited patiently while you scrolled and decided. You picked your phone back up, “Okay, I’ll text you my list and then you can meet me here? I just. Can’t move.”

“Sounds great, see you in a bit.”

You texted him the list and then your trainer about your soreness. She sent you some instructions and told you to try and get some ice for your knees. The dorm building had an ice machine in the kitchen, so you reluctantly dragged yourself up and grabbed two reusable ice packs.

It was slow going walking down the hall to the kitchen and then bending over to fill up the bags. Just as you were leaving to walk back through the lobby, JJ called you to let him in. You waved through the door, and shoved it open so he could get past. He smiled widely and showed you the plate, “Got the goods.”

“My hero.”

He looked over your rough appearance, “You okay?”

“Ah, just old knees. I gotta ice them because I didn’t stretch well enough after weights and practice.”

“Sucks,” JJ said with a low whistle.

Your door was still propped open, and JJ pushed it wider to let you in first. Climbing on top of your bed, you adjusted yourself and set the ice up. JJ handed you the plate and looked hesitant. You watched him, an amused smile on your face, before putting him out of his misery, “Climb up, J.”

He smiled, but it looked nervous, “Didn’t want to assume.”

You took a bite of chicken and watched him fidget with his hands, taking pity, you nudged him with your foot, “You wanted to talk about soccer?”

“Oh, yeah, I read some of the rules, but I need you to explain offsides to me.”

And that came easy to you. You could talk about soccer for hours. JJ grabbed his phone and pulled up the notes where he’d written questions.

“What about high kicks? It seems self-explanatory, but I’ve seen some stuff that I felt like should’ve been a high kick and it wasn’t.”

“That one’s a little more subjective, I guess. It’s like if the ref thinks it’s dangerous, they’ll call it, but if you aren’t going to hurt anyone, they’ll let it go.”

JJ leaned back, working that over in his brain, before nudging your foot, “You ever been called for it?”

“Bold of you to assume I can get my foot that high.”

He laughed and you set your plate to the side, “Honestly, I probably have been. I can’t tell you what all dumb shit I’ve been called for over the years.”

“Have you ever been red carded?”

“Absolutely not, I’m a good girl. A few yellows here and there, but never a red.”

JJ hummed, “Tell me a yellow card story.”

After thinking for a few seconds, you nodded, “Okay, my first ever yellow, I was like 12, playing in a tournament, and a girl went down in front of me. I went to step over her, don’t ask me why I didn’t just walk around, and she tried to get up.”

JJ snorted, “You fucking stepped on her?”

“Hey, not my fault she tried to stand up! But, yeah, I cleated her in the chest and apparently it was ‘my fault’ so I got a yellow.”

“What did your coach do?”

The ice was finally melted, so you shoved the ice packs to the side before answering, “He pulled me off because I was crying.”

“Wait, why were you crying?” JJ asked, hand casually falling down to rest on your now bare and cold knee.

“I thought I was going to get in trouble.”

JJ smiled, “That’s adorable.”

You smiled fondly, thinking back on your coach, “I can’t remember exactly how he tried to cheer me back up, but I was able to go back in the game.”

His hand gently rubbed your knee, warming it back up, and you pushed back the urge to groan at the relief. You tried to not move, not wanting to dislodge his hand. JJ sat in silence for a few seconds before asking, “When’s your next away trip?”

With a sigh, you rotated one of your ankles, “We leave tomorrow after class.”

“Where to?”

“D.C.”

JJ visibly deflated, “When can we hang out again?”

“We get back in two days. So, Friday afternoon, maybe.”

Much to your displeasure, he moved his hand, “Friday it is.”

He stood, you reached out as if to grab his wrist but stopped short, “Wait, do you have to leave now?”

JJ looked unsure, “I-“ he wiped his hands on his shorts, “no, I just don’t want to keep you from doing what you need to get done.”

“My knees still hurt; would you mind helping me pack?”

He nodded eagerly, “Yeah, tell me what to grab, your highness.”

With a laugh, you told him, “I need my grey UNC soccer t-shirt and the pair of navy sweatpants set to the side. Should be in the bottom drawer under the bed.”

He followed your every direction and packed it carefully into the navy blue duffle bag you normally traveled with. After he finished, you told him to sit back down while you went to the bathroom and to get ready for bed.

JJ was propped up on your pillows when you got back, shoes finally kicked off. His hat was on the desk next to the bed and his hair looked like his fingers had been running through it. You climbed up next to him and opened your laptop, “Movie?”

He nodded, shifting closer to you, “What do you want to watch.”

You shrugged, “I’m open to anything, what do you want?”

“Mm, I think they just put Jurassic Park on Netflix.”

Scrolling to the movies, you clicked on it and the two of you settled in. JJ was close, laying on his side, but not quite touching you. You could feel his breaths on your shoulder, and you tried to not react. The thing between the two of you was still so new, and this was a first for both of you. You were almost scared to shatter the quiet atmosphere.

Eventually, his breathing evened out, and you shut the laptop. Even with the long nap, it took you less than five minutes to fall asleep with a smile on your face to the sound of his breathing and the feeling of his fingertips lightly pressed to yours.

***

tagging: @overly-b​

[whumpster-fire]

Whumptober Day 8: Isolation

Content Warnings For: Isolation (duh), Animal Abuse, Self-Harm, Animal Whumpee, Monster Whumpee, Trained responses, mention of bodily functions

The Indoraptor squinted out into the darkness of the space beyond the doors as they slowly swung open and his cage started to move. Darkness was good. Darkness was safe, not like the blinding floodlights all around him, even coming from the floor under his feet. He’d scratched at the floor for a while, trying to break them like he’d broken the light in his enclosure and make at least some of the uncomfortable glare go away, but the clear stuff was too strong for his claws. It was so bright that even with his excellent vision what lay ahead was lost in shadow, but he could hear, and he could smell.

Humans. There were humans everywhere, almost all of them unfamiliar. There was at least one talking very loudly, and maybe others more quietly, but it was hard to make out among all the noises of machinery and a droning, pulsing, rhythmic sound that seemed almost alive. There was a cacophany of smells too – human scents, and all the scents that accompanied humans, all the strong, headache-inducing plant smells. The tumult was maddening, but it was almost a relief compared to the assault on his senses that he’d just been released from.

For the first time he could remember, the cage he was being moved in was one of many, filled with other creatures that were different from the humans, and the other animals that were thrown into his enclosure as prey. If anything, they were like him, with scaly skin and long, tapering tails, some on two legs and some on four. They were tempting targets – every time he saw one turn its back he imagined stalking it, pouncing, and digging his claws into its spine and his teeth into its throat. But the noises – the heavy, echoing footsteps, and the slamming metal doors, and the roars and cries of distress that were at once exciting and unnerving, triggering the instinct to hunt and the sense of impending danger at the same time, and the fear scents and the foul odors from some of them soiling their cages, were too much at once. He’d started chewing and biting at his arms, struggling to resist the urge to draw blood. Pain was often his only respite from boredom, and in an odd way it was almost comforting, because it was something the humans used to control him, so if he could control when he felt pain it took a little of their power away. The victory was only in his mind, though: the pain-sticks the humans carried still hurt too much, and they tended to use them if he bit or clawed himself hard enough to bleed when they were watching.

Several of them surrounded the cage, watching him intently. The Indoraptor stood up on his back legs, trying to keep to the center, but there was barely even enough space to turn around in, not enough to be out of reach of the pain-sticks. He watched them back, and watched the humans farther away who were slowly coming into focus as his eyes started to adjust to the darkness, letting out anxious caws and chatters. This was something strange, something special, and that rarely meant anything good.

Sure enough, they struck him with the pain-sticks, sending burning, tingling shock waves across his body. He snapped at them, hissing and growling in annoyance, but it was only halfhearted. He knew from experience that they were too far away to reach. A couple times a human had gotten too close, and he’d hooked a claw into a limb and dragged him to his death, or at least inflicted a long, deep cut after which that particular human didn’t return, but it only ever brought more pain and being shot with the sleep guns. He could reach the pain-sticks themselves, but even if he took one away from the humans and broke it they had more, and getting shocked in the move or hand hurt even worse. It was pointless to try to fight back. If the humans wanted him to feel pain, there was no way to stop them. But it was making him angry, too angry to sit still and not give them the response they wanted.

Then there was a noise that was familiar – a high, warbling whistle. Immediately Indoraptor was alert, looking around and tilting his head to pinpoint the source. The Light Gun. The Light Gun was one of the only good things he knew. It meant food, and usually better food than normal, still alive food, if he attacked the thing that the red light was pointed at. It had been hard to understand at first. He could only attack the target of the light, and only when the gun made its other, louder sound. If he attacked too early, or attacked the wrong thing – even if the target wasn’t food and something else was – or didn’t obey in time, he’d be hurt, and he wouldn’t be fed for a long time.

The light was pointed at one of the humans in the front of the rows further away, sitting down. Indoraptor’s heart began to race as he caught the human fear-scent. It had been in the room before, but it was stronger now. The man was far out of reach. Were they going to open the cage? Let him free? He sized up the target, his throat quivering in anticipation. Then the screech of the second noise sounded. The response was automatic, out of his control. He flung himself at the human, slamming his head painfully against the bars. But the door wasn’t opening! He couldn’t reach!

He bit and clawed furiously at the bars, stretching his arms out between as far as he could, screaming in frustration. This wasn’t fair! He was going to fail, and they would hurt him again, but this was impossible! He saw a human with a pain-stick start to move towards him. No! He lunged again, frantically beating his head against the bars. A tooth broke, and his nose was bleeding, but he couldn’t stop. His breath started to wheeze and rattle in his throat, and his head felt like it was tipping from side to side. He stumbled, and in another desperate attempt to pounce his feet slid out from under him. He crashed to the floor in a tangled heap of shaking limbs, and lay there, panting and gasping for air. One of the men with pain sticks made a move towards him. He responded with a furious hiss that turned into a fit of coughing, and shrank back away from the wall. His head hurt, and his chest was throbbing like his ribs were broken.

The pain-stick struck him once, twice. He snarled and hissed, lashing his tail against the bars and beating at the cage, but when he struck with his claws the man easily backed out of reach. But he had to do something with the anger boiling inside him. Had to kill… had to hurt… he tucked his head under his arms, and dragged his claws down the sides of his head. The scales broke. Sharp, burning pain flooded his mind, and warm, wet liquid ran down his neck and dripped onto the clear floor of the cage. But the maddening human fear-scent coming from all around him only grew stronger. He glared out at them through eyes blurred with tears. What he wouldn’t give to be out of that little cell… He’d make all of them pay… every single one of them...

~~~

A/N: I’ve been wanting to write about Indoraptor for a while, because Jesus... if there’s any demonstration of the sheer incompetence and ignorance of animal welfare of every villain in the Jurassic Park series, it’s this. This poor animal spent his entire life trapped in a small, dark cage underground, with little to no enrichment or social interaction, and trained by the kind of scumbags who, in their little demo, physically abused him to get him angry and making noise for the customers, and visibly didn’t reward a trained behavior. And then Wu’s dumb ass blamed it on genetics.

Bitch forget Blue’s DNA: before you try kidnapping a dinosaur for her genetic material because you lost the files, try raising a goddamn Golden Retriever with the same practices you’re planning on using for your purpose-built dinosaur-based killing machine and if you still get a vicious, uncontrollable animal the problem probably isn’t the genetics. Or, y’know, don’t since that would be abusive too. Instead consider asking literally any competent dog trainer about your plans to raise a dog like this and watch the reactions.

Anyway, I saw concept art a scrapped design of Indoraptor that was covered in tumors because of bad genetic engineering, which is cool, but ya know what? Screw that, make the movie really realistic and have him be covered in self-harm scars. Parrots are just about the closest thing to Jurassic Park’s raptors in real-life, and they frequently rip their own feathers out and tear themselves to shreds if neglected or stressed in captivity. This would also give Owen an opportunity to point this out and show that he is a competent animal behaviorist, something that doesn’t happen nearly enough.

But of course, Fallen Kingdom disappointed me on this, just like it disappointed me with... just about everything else besides basically being a canon whump fic for Blue.

[multi-fandom-writer]

the boy with the colors

part 3

Masterlist

taglist: open, just send me an ask! word count: 2.4k warnings: little bit of implied angst

“So how was the movie date last night?” Tom questioned both you and Harrison with a suggestive tone. He was smirking, his eyes were twinkling. Thanks to Harrison, you could now see the chocolate brown of Tom’s eyes. They weren’t Harrison’s intricate blues, but they were pretty in their own sort of way. Tom’s hair matched his eyes almost down to the hue, and while his skin wasn’t as dark as Harrison’s, it fit Tom. 

Neither you, nor Harrison wanted to answer Tom, both of you wanting to keep the night to yourselves. It was a memory that was shared between the two of you. It would come to be the first thing on your mind when the colors were starting to fade. Harrison’s tan arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him, would come to be the only thing to pull you through the long night that would hit you like a truck. But, for now, you were unaware of the crisis that would come, and you were only wanting to keep the details of your special night to yourself.

Finally, Harrison broke the silence, “it was good.” It seemed as though he too wanted to keep last night his secret to share with you. If not for the goofy grin spread across his face, you might have held a hint of doubt that maybe he didn’t have a good time. But, when your soulmate’s eyes met yours, they seemed to lighten a few shades, and again, everything felt right with the world.

“Come on guys, I want details,” Tom whined, taking a sip of his coffee. Tom wouldn’t pry, he wasn’t the kind to be invasive and you knew this. It took you a minute to realize that Tom wasn’t trying to take away your secret, he was just looking out for his friend. Yes, Tom had developed a sort of trust for you. How could he not have - you were the one that advised him against doing some very stupid things in the past three days. While it was your job to keep an eye on him, quite literally, it was his job to keep an eye on Harrison.

The interaction was so small, so discreet, if you weren’t admiring Harrison, you would have missed it. The smallest shake of Harrison’s head told Tom everything he needed to know. The date was something that needed to be kept as a precious memory, not to be shared. 

Something in Tom shattered at that moment. The reality of his situation crashed into like a wave in the ocean. Tom could see in color, meaning he had met his soulmate. He, however, was not jumping at the opportunity to talk about her. He wasn’t constantly checking his phone for messages from her. His eyes didn’t hold the same spark that Harrison’s did. Tom had met his soulmate, he had spent time with her in the same room. He had probably taken a picture with her or held a meaningless conversation with her, but he had no idea who she was. The universe had played a cruel and inhumane joke on him, and there was nothing he could do about it. There was no way he could go looking for his soulmate, trying to find her among the millions of his fans would be impossible. He had thought of every possibility, every option, but none of them would be viable. Tom was marked to spend his life without someone by his side. Up until now, the person by his side was Harrison, his best friend, the person he could tell anything to. And here you were, taking Harrison away from him.

You reached to take Harrison’s hand in yours under the table and he gave you a small nod. “We watched Jurassic Park. The dinosaurs look so much more realistic in color.” You looked to Tom, seeing his big smile. “We had popcorn, too. It was late when the movie got done, so Harrison stayed at mine last night,” you finished, not going into complete detail. Tom seemed more than content with your recollection of the night before. He was happy for the two of you. He didn’t need to know about the intimate words spoken between the two of you, or the warmth and safety that Harrison provided to you, simply by wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close to his bare chest. That part of your love affair could remain yours. You could let Tom have a small part of your night, though. After all, that simple romance was only what he wanted for himself.

“That sounds really nice,” he answered, finishing his coffee. “Should we head back to the set?” he asked, checking the time on his phone. Throughout the day, Tom would sometimes get little breaks. More often than not, they were only twenty minutes or so, but sometimes they would be an hour or two long. During the longer breaks, he liked to just rest. This happened to be one of his longer breaks, and he decided to get coffee with you and Harrison. He really did need time away from the film lot. His frustration was almost palpable, which was why you jumped on Harrison’s suggestion to have some time to yourselves. Although, you weren’t really alone. There had been fans asking for pictures up until the moment the three of you sat down. Of course, there were paparazzi, too, but they kept their distance.

Harrison was the first to get up, letting your hand slip from his as he stood and stretched his back. Harrison was a professional when it came to having people watch his every move in public. You, were not, and it showed. Harrison was ever the patient man, though. As you stood, he ever so slightly leaned in and whispered, “Now, lovey, there are about fifteen cameras on us, so no touching.” His words were a soft reminder to you, a reminder that you needed as you kept yourself from slipping your hand into his.

Harrison’s touch was a drug to you, and last night, you had overdosed on it. The only thing on your mind was his soft skin pressing against yours. His large hand moving however you wanted it to as you mindlessly played with his long fingers was something that crossed your mind almost every ten minutes. You had to restrain yourself, though. Both of you knew that you weren’t ready to face the onslaught of going public with your relationship, and Harrison was more than ready to protect you from ruining the thrill of your untold romance. A small piece of you wanted to think that maybe he had a bit of an addiction to you, too.

It was a short walk back to the set, only about ten minutes. It felt like an eternity, though. “We only have about three weeks left of filming,” Tom broke the comfortable silence, trying to make conversation. He looked over to you, “What are you going to do then?” The question took you by surprise. You weren’t expecting it, especially not from Tom.

“Oh, I’ll be moved to be a production assistant on a different Marvel movie,” you answered, trying to hide the sadness in your voice. A different movie meant a different cast, which meant not being able to see Harrison or Tom on a daily basis. As reckless and childish as the boys could be, you had taken a liking to them. They made your day interesting. Everyday was a new adventure with them, making you all the more excited to see what the next day would hold and what adventure you would embark on with them.

“What it be wrong of me to ask you to come on the press tour with us?” Tom questioned, watching you closely for your reaction. When he didn’t see a clear reaction, he kept talking, “just because filming is done doesn’t mean we’re going to stop having stupid ideas. I think you’ve learned that by now.” His laugh brought a smile to your face. “I doubt I would have to do much convincing for my managers to let my babysitter come with on a press tour.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to do any convincing, honestly. Especially since I’m coming with for this one,” Harrison piped in.

“I would very much like to come with,” you told the boys, their eyes lighting up. The rest of the walk was spent talking about where you would be going on the press tour, and the dumb ideas that you’d consider letting them try out. “You two are idiots,” you concluded as you approach the film lot.

“Yes, but we are your idiots,” Tom speaks, letting a smile spread across his lips. You only smiled and walked Tom to where he needed to be before sitting with Harrison watching as people bustled around, getting the set ready.

“So you want fifteen dogs?” you ask Harrison.

His eyes light up, “yes, I want fifteen dogs, and two kids.” he answers confidently.

You can’t help but chuckle, “how about ten dogs and three kids?”

“I’d go for three kids, but I can’t go any lower than twelve dogs. It just can’t happen, lovey,” he jokes with a soft tone as he shrugs his shoulders.

“In all seriousness, though?” you ask lightly, almost afraid of his answer. Your hand reached out to his, needing the comfort.

His hand took yours, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles. “Three kids, three dogs,” he answered simply. “We can get the dogs as puppies when the kids are old enough to play with them and take care of them,” his tone was almost dreamy as he drifted off into his own little world, thinking about his future with you.

On the outside, Harrison kept up his reputation, but on the inside he was almost a completely different person. He wanted three kids, one boy and two girls. As excited as he is to teach his little boy how to play soccer, he was just as, if not more excited, to have tea parties with his sweet princesses. He wanted family movie nights, and trips to amusement parks. Harrison wanted to be a father and a husband, he wanted a family and he wanted that with you.

“I can live with three kids and three dogs,” you answer, squeezing his hand. “Would our kids play piano or any other instrument?” you ask, yearning to know more about the future that Harrison wanted.

“No because that would make your imaginary kids nerds and you don’t want nerdy kids,” Tom cuts in as he walks over to you in his Spiderman suit. “Also, I don’t want to be an uncle to nerdy kids,” he finishes, sitting in a chair across from you two.

“I want at least one of my kids to learn how to play piano,” you counter looking at Harrison, who was nodding. “Have you thought of names yet?”

Harrison paused, his eyes studying yours, “yeah, I have,” he let out with a small chuckle. “Wanna hear them?” he teased you with a raised eyebrow.

“I think you’ll love them,” Tom winks at you before he’s called away to start his next scene.

You gave Harrison a shocked look, “so you’ve talked about this with Tom?”

“Tom and I have talked about a lot of things,” Harrison sighs, looking over to you. “Tom wants two kids, a boy and a girl. He wants to name them James and Julia. Tom imagines his soulmate to have strawberry blonde hair with dark blue eyes, pale skin and freckles. He saw a girl like that at one of his photo-ops, and he thinks it’s her. She was really nice, gentle-hearted. Her name was Talia, and she was really short,” Harrison’s smile grew as he talked. “I mean, the top of her head barely reached Tom’s shoulder. And I remember Tom talking about how her smile was contagious. He said that was her favorite part about her.” Harrison stopped, remembering the day like it was yesterday. He saw the way Tom smiled when he took the picture with her. It was a genuine smile, the only one that Harrison had seen from Tom all day. 

“So what about those names?” you asked, offering Harrison a smile.

“Theodore or Marcus for the boy names and Geneveive or Alexis for a girl,” he answered softly. 

“I like Theodore. I think it’s a very cute boy name, and I really like both of the girl names,” you replied, gently squeezing his hand. “I can’t wait to have kids someday, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he paused, his thumb stopping its movements over your knuckles. “I never thought I’d be this close to actually having kids,” he murmured, looking at you.

“I think kids are still a few months off, at least,” you chuckled as you answered him.

“Y’know before we have kids we have to get married. And before we get married…” his voice trailed off. It was a realization that both of you knew about, but neither of you wanted to admit. You weren’t the only one that had reservations about going public, and Harrison was starting to show that he was worried, too. The difference between your anxieties is that yours were for both of you, and his were focused mainly on you. He didn’t want you to have to deal with jealous fans saying you were just faking it.

“Let’s talk about this later. Maybe this weekend before our movie night? I just want to give this conversation my full attention, and right now isn’t the best time,” you rush out trying not to hurt Harrison’s feelings. From your time spent together the night before, you were aware of how sensitive he could be. You loved that about him, though. You truly adored how in touch he was with his feelings.

Harrison nodded in agreement, bringing the back of your hand up to his soft lips. “I appreciate that you want to give this one hundred percent. So yes, of course we can postpone this conversation to our weekend date. Maybe I could make you some breakfast for dinner and we could talk about this then,” his voice was soft as he spoke.

“I would love to talk about this over breakfast for dinner, as long as I get to try some of your infamous pancakes,” you giggled as he kissed each of your knuckles.

“Then I guess I owe you some pancakes, lovey.”

---

tagging: @stuckonspidey @mrs-hollandstan @thollandss @yo-sugg

[nikkalia]

Pops in the Park

TITLE: Pops in the Park

AUTHOR: Nikkalia

PAIRING: Tom/OFC

RATING: M

SUMMARY: This is the result of a conversation on Discord about Loki!Tom crashing a concert. It went downhill from there... Dedicated to my darling @igotloki

NOTES/WARNINGS: (kinks, triggers, general warnings.) Smut, which is really difficult to write in first person for some reason...

TAGS: @igotloki @fandom-and-feminism @mrshiddleston-uk @fadingcoast @mischievousbellerina 

NOTES: Someone remind me to fix the hashtags later?

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming... No,” I whispered to no one. Speeches make me nervous and you could definitely hear it in my voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for joining us tonight...this evening. Ugh, why do they make me do this?”

“Because Anthony Daniels canceled when it wasn’t all about Star Wars,” Mike answered, grinning. “Relax, you’ve got this.”

“No respect from my concertmaster,” I smirked as he clapped my shoulder.

“So, is the magic man making an appearance tonight?”

“Nope. He’s otherwise occupied.”

Mike laughed. “What does that even mean?”

I shrugged. “It means...he won’t be here.”

“Oh, come on. He can’t pull away from whatever he’s filming for one night to celebrate your 5 year anniversary with us? Loser.”

“Whatever.” I blew out a sigh and looked back over my notes. “Really hate speeches.”

“See, magic man should’ve been here. He likes to talk and the ladies love to listen.” Mike winked and got a smack on the arm for his trouble before wandering off.

He wasn’t wrong. Tom loved to talk and everyone loved his voice, not just the ladies. In the two plus years we've been together, I’d never known him to refuse an opportunity to tell a story - except to hear me tell one. He was the only man I’d ever met that could listen as intently as he does, to make you feel like the entire universe centered around you. Management had actually approached his agent about serving as emcee when Daniels backed out, and they declined, citing a previous commitment. Which was, at the time, a bald-faced lie.

We argued about the timing of this show only a few days prior to the request because the concert was so close to our own anniversary. He had, in typical Tom fashion, made some grand plans involving travel and luxuries and all the things that drove my simplistic heart manic with worry, and hadn’t bothered to check the concert calendar. So, when I told him I couldn’t blow off the fund-raising event of the season, he went ballistic.

And I fired back. How dare he get upset when he’d canceled God knows how many times in favor of an audition? Where did he get off saying that one night wasn’t as important as ‘us’ when he’d confused night after night for his career? It turned really ugly and I ended up flying back to New York earlier than planned because of it. We didn’t speak for a week, and all of our communication after that was strained. Six weeks later, I stopped hearing from him altogether, despite assurances from his mother and sisters that we were still very much a couple. He was deep in some remote area with no wireless signal, they said. I sighed, pushing back tears.  

“Two minutes to curtain. Oh, and I’m supposed to tell you that an emcee has been located. You’re off the hook.” a stagehand told me.

“Thank you, God!”

I found Mike walking toward me, making sure everyone was ready to go.

“Conductor,” he nodded, a glint of mischief in his eye.

“Concertmaster,” I nodded back, grinning. Our pre-show ritual complete, he returned to his place in the lineup and the procession began with the welcoming announcement. I watched from the wings as the line of bodies filed into their seats to thunderous applause. The house looked to be full. “Must be doing something right,” I said to the stagehand.

A hush fell over the crowd, followed by the sound of a solid A from Mike. The strings followed, then woodwinds, brass. Mike nodded again. I nodded back, then to the stagehand, who gave his own cue to the booth. I took a deep breath, prayed a little prayer, and strode out on the stage as the house announcer introduced me. I bowed, gesturing to the musicians who were doing all of the real work tonight, and smiled.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage our master of ceremonies for the evening, mister Robert Downey, Jr.”

Bob strode out to the center of the stage, grinning from ear to ear.

I shot the dirtiest look to Mike, mouthing, “You knew.”

He shrugged, then smiled. Jackass.

“Maestra, you look stunning,” I heard beside me. He leaned in for a cheek-to-cheek kiss, lingering a little longer than maybe he should have. “He misses you,” he finally whispered, pulling away.

“Then he should be here.” I croaked. Poor Bob, reduced to a mere messenger boy. “Shall we?”

Being the gentleman that he is, Robert led me to the platform, holding my hand as I made the tiny step up, then returned to the podium on the other side of the stage.

I reviewed the first few measures of the music in front of me while Robert began his speech. He told the audience of his love for the music we would begin the performance with, the “John Williams Suite”. It was an orchestration I’d been working on for months, often to Tom’s frustration. Sheet music tended to consume the kitchen table in my loft apartment, something that was not at all conducive to his attempts to cook for me. I smiled as we began with ‘Indiana Jones’ themes, recalling a particular incident where he walked into the apartment completely unannounced, arms overloaded with grocery bags to find the table had been covered with scores from half a dozen films. He just sighed and went into the kitchen to begin cooking. Another meal on the sofa, he lamented. I simply kept on writing, struggling to get the transition between ‘E.T.’ and ‘Jurassic Park’ just right.

The music followed into the Star Wars medley. Lost in memory, I had to pull myself together enough to get through the rest of the piece. ‘Duel of the Fates’ was no joke to perform, much less conduct. Some of the choir members referred to it as the marathon. The horn players laughed at them until I reminded them that this was the reason why I stretched my arms before every rehearsal. Tom knew when rehearsals were intense by the way I held my shoulders afterward. He’d always massage the muscles, wondering if I was perhaps a bit too animated in my conducting. I’d always ask if he was perhaps a bit too animated when he read the Saint Crispin’s speech. That’s usually when the tickling started.

After a few moments pause for the audience to show their appreciation, and for the orchestra to move sheet music around, we moved into a mix of old and new Star Trek themes, ending with the suite from Into Darkness. There has been a great deal of debate within the group as to which series - old or new - was better, followed by discussions of films, actors, approaches, and which made my little geeky heart happy. Tom had no comment on the matter, despite the fact that his eyes lit up a little more when we opted to watch Ben’s version of Khan instead of the original.

The piece finished and Robert began rambling on about music and film and... I stopped paying attention after a few seconds, focusing again on the upcoming music. One of the stagehands appeared on my right and placed a wireless mic on the music stand. I put it on, thinking I would be expected to say a few words about my time with the orchestra, what an honor it was, blah blah blah.

Celebrate yourself, Tom would say. If anyone deserves accolades, it’s you. My response was almost always, “yeah, whatever,” which would send him into a 20-minute monologue extolling my virtues as a musician and human. I’ve always preferred to let the music speak for itself.

I heard Robert say “This is gonna be fun,” and knew we were up. I’d arranged a medley of Queen songs - Somebody to Love, I’m Going Slightly Mad, Days of Our Lives, and Bohemian Rhapsody. When Mike saw the score for the first time, he asked if I was okay. I just wasn’t ready to discuss the argument, so I brushed the question off with a shrug. “Feeling nostalgic,” I told him. “Besides, I want to show the altos some love.”

The altos later told me that was not the kind of love they were looking for. The sopranos, however, were ecstatic. Divas, the whole lot of them.

Music from the MCU finished out the evening. Black Panther, Thor, Captain Marvel, and all the Avengers films wrapped into 10 minutes. It was supposed to be for Tom. I’d seriously contemplated scrapping the whole section after the fight but the entire orchestra vetoed the idea, citing it as the “entertaining” piece of the evening. I knew that if the musicians weren’t happy, no one was happy, so it stayed but they just wanted to play Immigrant Song.

We’d moved through to ‘Portals’ from the Endgame soundtrack and I could feel the energy of the audience change. They started shouting and clapping behind me. Maybe they’re loving the music with the latest movie having been released. We reached the scripted pause, and I kept going, but the orchestra doesn’t. They just sat there staring at me, and I was suddenly aware of “Loki” being chanted behind me. I glared at Mike, who’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat. That’s when the glint of gold caught my eye. I turned, finally dropping my arms when my mouth follows suit.

Loki, or Tom, in full Loki regalia, strode toward me like a demi-god possessed. The horns sat above smoldering eyes, cape flowing behind him as he approached me like an animal stalking his prey. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to pounce on him in front of God and the globe. I never could resist that costume, and he knew it. Instead, I simply crossed my arms.

“Please,” he growled, the swagger growing, “don’t stop on my account. Summon your Avengers.”

“Bad enough you destroy half of Manhattan with some half-baked scheme to take over the world. Now, you have the audacity to crash my gig and interrupt their music?”

He stopped short, head cocking to one side. I don’t think he was entirely sure if I was serious or just playing along. The infamous smile returned.

“Forgive me. The interruption of the arts is indeed a sin, but the purpose behind my visit warrants such sacrilege.” When I didn’t answer, he removed his helmet, eliciting a new wave of cheers from the crowd. His hair was its natural ginger, long and wildly out of control. He turned to them and held a finger to his goateed lips, a la 2013’s Comic-Con visit before placing the helmet on the stage.

“I have found myself lamenting the loss of something very dear to me of late. Something that I believe you alone can help me recover.” He paused, his voice echoing through the speakers while his hands fell to his sides. “It pains me to admit such shortcomings, but I find that I am weaker without you, that I am lost without your presence in my life. I am heartbroken at each day that passes without the sound of your voice. So,” his cloak flew behind him with a flourish and he fell to one knee. A collective gasp came from the audience and the stage. “My lady, would you consider restoring to me the grace of your life and your love on a permanent basis?”

What the hell is happening? I glanced over at Mike. He and the rest of the orchestra are literally sitting on the edge of their seats. When I turn back to Tom, his arm is extended towards me, a small box with a ring sitting in the palm of his hand. Tom, channeling Loki, channeling King Hal. I was doomed.  

“Will you consent to be my queen and my love? Will you marry me?”

His head dropped and my heart leaped into my throat. Time seemed to slow to a crawl while I recalled every fight, every laugh, every moment of passion and joy and sorrow. How could I possibly say yes? How could I not?

The soft sound of a camera lens focusing on me snapped me out of my time stop. He was still on bended knee, his arm shaking a bit. I stepped off of the platform and lifted his chin. For all his eloquence, I could only come up with a single word response.

“Yes.”

Tom jumped to his feet and kissed me as everyone within earshot roared with approval. ‘All I Ask of You’ began to play and I made a mental note to fire then promote Mike later, as I was sure he’d been part of this plot all along. A moment passed in his arms before he finally stepped back, scooping up the golden horns.

“I shall be waiting with white horses, my queen.”

“And here I thought you’d want me to play you out.”

“As long as it’s not ‘Performance Issues’.”

“No promises.” I winked then stepped back onto the platform. “Ladies and gentlemen, shall we skip to the end?” Mike nodded and everyone found their page. I raised my hands and music from the Avengers theme rang out in the park.

Tom bowed to me before he slid the helmet back over his head, turned and walked to the side of the stage where Robert stood, raising his hands in victory when applause followed. I caught them embracing out of the corner of my eye and knew I’d have to give both of them grief later for the first glimpse of ‘FrostIron.’

We made it to the loft long after the final note sounded. There had been a sea of people congratulating me on the concert, the engagement, and everything in between. Tom vanished long enough to de-Loki, much to my disappointment, but stayed right next to me for the rest of the night. When we were finally able to leave, he ushered me out to a white Jag. White horses, indeed.

He zipped through the streets of Manhattan with ease, taking as many backroads as possible to avoid traffic. I took the time to get a good look at the ring, and oh God was it stunning. A large oval stone set on its side with two smaller stones at either end set in a band of polished silver knotwork. Definitely handcrafted and a perfect fit.

“The band’s tungsten. I know how hard you are on jewelry,” Tom said with a wink.”The stones are moldavite, amethyst, and garnet.” he glanced over, a smile on his face. “Us.”

“It’s perfect,” I blushed a little, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “And you’re a dork of the highest caliber.”

That little laugh that drives all the ladies crazy slipped out as he nodded and pulled into the parking garage. Our elevator ride was silent as the family that snuck in just as the doors were closing bombarded Tom with more questions about Loki than I’d ever come up with. It made me think we’d have to take the service elevator from now on.

All thoughts of anything beyond the man wrapped around me vanished as soon as the apartment door closed. Tom spun me around, planting a kiss that went from chaste to passion in point zero six seconds. I heard my keys hit the floor after I missed the end table. He growled when I tried to pick them up, nipping a little harder at my neck, pushing me toward the bedroom.

We were all hands trying to shed clothes on the way. You’d think that as much coordination we had individually, we’d be able to make it look as graceful as it did in the movies. The poor boy got so frustrated that he picked me up, carried me down the hallway, and dropped me on the bed. Shoes and socks off, he stepped closer to unzip my dress while I worked on his pants. The ‘conda sprang free as soon as the zipper fell. Another growl came from above when I wrapped my hand around it, morphing into a moan as when lips added.

The bed dipped to one side a little with the weight of his leg. His hands rested on my shoulders as he tried to steady himself while I rolled my tongue around his cock. I couldn’t see his eyes with his head leaned back, but knew he was lost in the sensations, his hips rocking back and forth. He pulled out suddenly, tugged my hands away and upward to my feet.

Another kiss, slower and more passionate while he finally figured out the zipper of my gown. His hands moved the fabric down, and the frustrated moan came when he remembered just how much effort went into making slinky black dresses look good. He nuzzled and nipped his way across my face and down my neck while he fumbled with the clasps of my bra. I returned the favor, dragging teeth along his neck until I was able to get his shirt open.  

What was left of my clothing dropped to the floor in one swift motion when Tom dropped to his knees, pushing me back onto the bed. I slid up the mattress and he followed, kissing and licking his way up my legs. He stopped at my hips, licking upward along the inside of my thigh but never quite made it to the center.

“If all you’re gonna do is tease,” I panted, “then get up here.”

“You would deny me the pleasure of devouring your already dripping quim?” Loki’s voice followed the dark, lust filled eyes that looked up at me. Before I could wrap my brain around my impending demise by god-lust, a finger slid inside me, followed by another. The smirk became a grin and he lowered his mouth to my clit, his eyes never leaving mine.

He growled again as he began to suck, slowly pumping his ridiculously long fingers in and out of my pussy. I tried to squirm away when he picked up the pace and he wrapped his free arm around my leg, locking me in place. I lost count of how many times he brought me to the edge only to back off and begin again. My fingers found their way into his hair, tugging him upward, only to be rewarded with his teeth dragging across my swollen bud.

“Not until you cum,” he purred, still latched on to me. He began thrusting the fingers inside me, curling them around to brush against that little bundle of nerves while he clamped down with lips and teeth. It didn’t take long for my body to shatter beneath him, my orgasm tearing its way out of me with a scream. He anchored me down with both arms, sucking out every last drop I could offer.

When I came back to reality, he was making a slow path up my body, his breath hot on my skin. His lips finally reached mine and I took rough possession of them, wanting to taste him. The tip of his cock brushed against my pussy and I shivered. Tom pulled away a bit.

“Need a bit longer to recover?” he whispered, nuzzling against my cheek.

“Absolutely not.” I pulled him closer to me and shifted a bit, sliding a hand down his stomach. “Only thing I need is you.” My fingers wrapped around his length and guided him inside.

“Oh. My. Go...” The last syllable was lost in the moan that rumbled in his chest. He was completely still above me except the slow thrust to push himself deeper, nearly purring as he went. I moved my hands along his sides and he sighed. “Been too long. Won’t last.”

“Ditto,” I breathed into his ear, “on both counts. Just move.”

Tom obliged, rocking his hips back and forth, moving a little faster with each thrust. I tried to lift my hips to his, but he built a pace I just couldn’t maintain. All I could do was hold onto him, losing myself in the feeling his body in mine and the sounds we made. His moans took on a higher pitch and his thrusts became erratic until every muscle in his body tensed, his seed spilling in waves. Feeling him cum sent me back over the edge, and I could’ve sworn I heard him chuckle as I clamped down around him.

We lay tangled in each other for a while, basking in the afterglow. He finally moved to the side, eliciting a groan from both of us when he did. Ever the gentleman, he let me duck into the loo first while he turned down the bed. Both settled back in bed, I curled up next to him, my head resting on his chest.

“Love?” he whispered, toying with a lock of my hair. “Are you sure?”

“Sure of what?”

“This,” he spoke as he ran his fingers along my left hand to the ring. “I know you wouldn’t have refused me in front of the entire world and half of Manhattan, even if you wanted to.” I lifted my head from his chest to look at him. There was a genuine concern on his face as he sighed. “So, are you sure?”

“You’re serious?” His face turned sheepish. “Then let me answer a question with a question.”

“What? You hate it when I do that!” He sat up a bit and I pressed a finger to his lips.

“Thomas William Loki Adam Hank Henry Robert Freddie Jonathan Oakley Hiddleston the fifth, Lord Nooth, rightful king of the Jotunheim, England, Ireland, Scotland...”

“Okay, okay, enough,” he chuckled. I grinned at him.

“Will you marry me?” His eyes went wide and teared up a bit. He began nodding furiously until I kissed him.

Neither of us slept that night.

[shy-magpie]

RQG 141

The wait is over! Skraak's gonna sober up soon and all signs point to upcoming boss fight. Will they end up with an army of captured Kobolds fulfilling the promise to make Skraak a general or are they going to spend the last episode on the island trying to remember who was tied up where? Patreon thanks have gotten more fun since I started recognizing names.

Alex sounds contrite about possible errors. Ben is honest about the social contract. Honestly these guys hold themselves to too high a standard sometimes. Oh everyone is doing Ben impressions, I love it when you can see they are really are friends Back to the elevator shaft Hamid and Zolf can fly without warning but are Cel and Azu going to be OK? Oh ladder is bad bad bad. Right not their first rodeo: Hamid and Zolf are talking out the plan. Zolf will scout? *scouts* *elevator ain’t moving* *reports* Regarding the text level of the ensuing conversation: Everyone is going to be tied together. No falling allowed. Hamid makes a case for Lightest First, Zolf was thinking Heaviest First. They go with lightest first. Eh I'm no hiker so not going to spend to much brain space on working out which order makes sense. Especially since none of them are allowed to fall, Alex. Subtext: Hamid sounds a little nervous about it but is in leader mode, not presenting an idea to his boss mode. Zolf sounds unsure how to take that level of the conversation but always did take Hamid's ideas seriously; even if only seriously enough to argue about rather than dismiss out of hand. As they discuss it Hamid sounds a bit more confident as Zolf takes it well. Zolf sounds frustrated but I think it's only on the level he explicitly said: this is going to suck and he would rather do it quickly, than have time for worry to really set in. I swear if they have Azu fall on someone like Bertie fell on Sasha; the way the last season of scripted shows do call backs to fan favorite episodes I'll never trust the dice are unweighted again. Eep, fatigue mechanics are starting now Yes having typing as an excuse to pause as they hit the bit we've been worrying about is nice. I don't want anyone to slip but I kinda need Zolf as Iron Man saving someone fan art. Ha Bryn just figured out they can work out how much time has passed by how often Zolf has to reactivate his boots. He clearly knows how much Ben will appreciate being used to add to the admin when he points this out. Oh this is going to be Planes Walking all over again, rolls every few seconds. I refuse to track the numbers, we had too many naturals in both directions. Tired climbing in the dark. Or not: Zolf lights a torch because Hamid can't cast and climb. Fatigued officially kicked in for Cel. Yeah we worried about this in the discord it is a Bad condition. Alex was going to soften it but Zolf has it covered? Well at least cover 7 times a day but there are only 5 of them unless sickened* or one of the other conditions comes up too. Zolf & Cel scene is fun. Rolls, trying to tune it out and just wait for the effects. Mood lightened by Ben rolling for fun. Skraak needs to be rolled for too. Of course Ben is the only one not sounding stressed at this. To be fair its a bit heavy handed by Alex standards to give us an NPC whose two main traits are endearing and vulnerable. Yes, yes, yes! Zolf is carrying Skraak in a little rope backpack! What is up with this design? I'm getting an overpowered kid vibe. Where is Alex going with this? Water reflections? Leaking hydraulics? Break right after pointing out that Hamid's armor is probably gone. Please tell me he can recast if there is something nasty down here. Ouch falling would have hurt even worse than expected. No Cel/Lydia, things that could have easily turned you into pâté are not cool. Alex has trained them too well to just open the door without a plan. Little Kobold Jeffrey's Tube hatch Skraak time. Yes, I know I said Alex was manipulating us, I never said it didn't work. Poor little guy is too cute. Ben admits Zolf would have cured his fatigue. Aquarium tunnel? For just the boss? Doesn't fit the military past and is a stretch for a school, did Yoshida have it added? how rich is this guy? Quick Hamid and Azu moment My respect for Shoin as an alchemist is going down.  Maintain your equipment: you're a mad scientist for heaven's sake. Going back to my “something is using Yoshida as a boogeyman” theory Sorry if this isn't up to my usual. Listening at home instead of waiting for work and I don't think I got 10 minutes in a row undisturbed. Anyway: set design/world building is wonderful. Light turns out to be natural phosphorus(?) from a thermal vent, because Alex world builds from the geothermal layer up. Never let it be said Alex doesn't give the people what they ask for. Thank you Alex and Helen for 15 octopuses and the rest of the table for making the Jurassic Park reference/background music. A pulpy fun scene that was indulgent even before a geeky reference right from my childhood? RQG is good to me Ship wrecks? Gotta be the Mechanical Squid from Dover! Zolf knowledge time Boats were sunk over the last decade? Hamid agrees with me! I am going to be smug even if debunked, at proof I'm thinking the same way as the players. I'm thinking dragging the boats here was just an easy way to be sure they got all the stuff they wanted before dumping the looted wrecks? Telling a machine to grab a boat and bring it back has to be easier than defining what loot it should take and what to dump. Genre savvy Zolf points out we will probably get an evil monologue explaining. Good bye nice safe tunnel. Utility is king in the new complex but no maintenance again? Been damaged without repair too? And has it's own power? Cel is also wondering about the maintenance. Azu points out the danger Cel is accidentally but actively making her more frightened. On a Watsonian level anyways. Lydia knows what she is doing. Literal fun-house is it, Ben/Zolf. The place was set up for the kind of nerdy party RQG fans would love then it was abandoned? But the food was fresh and the costumes were designed for the team? Locker, trap, and Helen gasp. Vial broken, was that what the potion puzzle with the costumes was for? Alex is merciful and reinforcing the "set up for a party years ago and abandoned in place" by the contents being too old to hurt the team. 3 years expired, is that when the party was? Zolf breaks the box because  he does not like puzzle games. It was the prize: 4 vials but also too old to use. The customization is discussed. Lydia has Cel accidentally point out the time skip accounts for a lot of the time element. Well half of it, but if we take 3 years as a solid date, that leaves 18 months before the times skip and I don't think The Rangers were formed over a year before that. Maybe minions who kept updating based on old orders? "Actually"? Alex?!? OK, Broken traps can be tagged on like that. Holy Hades, I was right: Corpse with a bolt through his head?  Gotta be Yoshida. Poor Bryn glitched on his own character name because of all the Salad jokes; honest to god we tease because we love. Ben lightens things back up. Wait hey Zolf's cure fatigue also covers poisons*, is Skraak no longer drugged? Also is he still tied to Zolf? I don't remember them taking him out of the rope back pack. Did a lunch time re-listen/edit of these notes, because the universe punishes me with interruptions if I try to break my ritual. Hope it helped more than made the tone even more confusing. *I could have sworn poisoned was one of the conditions cured by Calming touch (Zolf's spell). I listened while doing my edit pass on this post and I couldn't find it. Maybe that damned processing issue again: you know I can wrap my head around hearing a tone but not make out words; hearing a completely different word so clearly I don't know my ears/brain glitched? Pisses me off more than it presents an actual problem.

[niksfiks]

Pops in the Park

Originally posted 6/10/19

TITLE: Pops in the Park

AUTHOR: Nikkalia (niksfiks)

PAIRING: Tom/OFC

RATING: M

SUMMARY: This is the result of a conversation on Discord about Loki!Tom crashing a concert. It went downhill from there... Dedicated to my darling @igotloki

NOTES/WARNINGS: (kinks, triggers, general warnings.) Smut, which is really difficult to write in first person for some reason...

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming... No,” I whispered to no one. Speeches make me nervous and you could definitely hear it in my voice. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for joining us tonight...this evening. Ugh, why do they make me do this?” 

“Because Anthony Daniels canceled when it wasn’t all about Star Wars.” Mike answered, grinning. “Relax, you’ve got this.” 

“No respect from my concertmaster,” I smirked as he clapped my shoulder.

“So, is the magic man making an appearance tonight?” 

“Nope. He’s otherwise occupied.”

Mike laughed. “What does that even mean?”

I shrugged. “It means...he won’t be here.”

“Oh, come on. He can’t pull away from whatever he’s filming for one night to celebrate your 5 year anniversary with us? Loser.”

“Whatever.” I blew out a sigh and looked back over my notes. “Really hate speeches.”

“See, magic man should’ve been here. He likes to talk and the ladies love to listen.” Mike winked and got a smack on the arm for his trouble before wandering off. 

He wasn’t wrong. Tom loved to talk and everyone loved his voice, not just the ladies. In the two plus years we've been together, I’d never known him to refuse an opportunity to tell a story - except to hear me tell one. He was the only man I’d ever met that could listen as intently as he does, to make you feel like the entire universe centered around you. Management had actually approached his agent about serving as emcee when Daniels backed out, and they declined, citing a previous commitment. Which was, at the time, a bald-faced lie. 

We argued about the timing of this show only a few days prior to the request because the concert was so close to our own anniversary. He had, in typical Tom fashion, made some grand plans involving travel and luxuries and all the things that drove my simplistic heart manic with worry, and hadn’t bothered to check the concert calendar. So, when I told him I couldn’t blow off the fund-raising event of the season, he went ballistic. 

And I fired back. How dare he get upset when he’d canceled God knows how many times in favor of an audition? Where did he get off saying that one night wasn’t as important as ‘us’ when he’d confused night after night for his career? It turned really ugly and I ended up flying back to New York earlier than planned because of it. We didn’t speak for a week, and all of our communication after that was strained. Six weeks later, I stopped hearing from him altogether, despite assurances from his mother and sisters that we were still very much a couple. He was deep in some remote area with no wireless signal, they said. I sighed, pushing back tears.  

“Two minutes to curtain. Oh, and I’m supposed to tell you that an emcee has been located. You’re off the hook.” a stagehand told me. 

“Thank you, God!”

I found Mike walking toward me, making sure everyone was ready to go. 

“Conductor,” he nodded, a glint of mischief in his eye.

“Concertmaster,” I nodded back, grinning. Our pre-show ritual complete, he returned to his place in the lineup and the procession began with the welcoming announcement. I watched from the wings as the line of bodies filed into their seats to thunderous applause. The house looked to be full. “Must be doing something right,” I said to the stagehand. 

A hush fell over the crowd, followed by the sound of a solid A from Mike. The strings followed, then woodwinds, brass. Mike nodded again. I nodded back, then to the stagehand, who gave his own cue to the booth. I took a deep breath, prayed a little prayer, and strode out on the stage as the house announcer introduced me. I bowed, gesturing to the musicians who were doing all of the real work tonight, and smiled.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage our master of ceremonies for the evening, mister Robert Downey, Jr.”

Bob strode out to the center of the stage, grinning from ear to ear. 

I shot the dirtiest look to Mike, mouthing, “You knew.” 

He shrugged, then smiled. Jackass. 

“Maestra,you look stunning,” I heard beside me. He leaned in for a cheek-to-cheek kiss, lingering a little longer than maybe he should have. “He misses you,” he finally whispered, pulling away. 

“Then he should be here.” I croaked. Poor Bob, reduced to a mere messenger boy. “Shall we?”

Being the gentleman that he is, Robert led me to the platform, holding my hand as I made the tiny step up, then returned to the podium on the other side of the stage. 

I reviewed the first few measures of the music in front of me while Robert began his speech. He told the audience of his love for the music we would begin the performance with, the “John Williams Suite”. It was an orchestration I’d been working on for months, often to Tom’s frustration. Sheet music tended to consume the kitchen table in my loft apartment, something that was not at all conducive to his attempts to cook for me. I smiled as we began with ‘Indiana Jones’ themes, recalling a particular incident where he walked into the apartment completely unannounced, arms overloaded with grocery bags to find the table had been covered with scores from half a dozen films. He just sighed and went into the kitchen to begin cooking. Another meal on the sofa, he lamented. I simply kept on writing, struggling to get the transition between ‘E.T.’ and ‘Jurassic Park’ just right.

The music followed into the Star Wars medley. Lost in memory, I had to pull myself together enough to get through the rest of the piece. ‘Duel of the Fates’ was no joke to perform, much less conduct. Some of the choir members referred to it as the marathon. The horn players laughed at them until I reminded them that this was the reason why I stretched my arms before every rehearsal. Tom knew when rehearsals were intense by the way I held my shoulders afterward. He’d always massage the muscles, wondering if I was perhaps a bit too animated in my conducting. I’d always ask if he was perhaps a bit too animated when he read the Saint Crispin’s speech. That’s usually when the tickling started. 

After a few moments pause for the audience to show their appreciation, and for the orchestra to move sheet music around, we moved into a mix of old and new Star Trek themes, ending with the suite from Into Darkness. There has been a great deal of debate within the group as to which series - old or new - was better, followed by discussions of films, actors, approaches, and which made my little geeky heart happy. Tom had no comment on the matter, despite the fact that his eyes lit up a little more when we opted to watch Ben’s version of Khan instead of the original.

The piece finished and Robert began rambling on about music and film and... I stopped paying attention after a few seconds, focusing again on the upcoming music. One of the stage hands appeared on my right and placed a wireless mic on the music stand. I put it on, thinking I would be expected to say a few words about my time with the orchestra, what an honor it was, blah blah blah.

Celebrate yourself, Tom would say. If anyone deserves accolades, it’s you. My response was almost always, “yeah, whatever,” which would send him into a 20 minute monologue extolling my virtues as a musician and human. I’ve always preferred to let the music speak for itself. 

I heard Robert say “This is gonna be fun,” and knew we were up. I’d arranged a medley of Queen songs - Somebody to Love, I’m Going Slightly Mad, Days of Our Lives, and Bohemian Rhapsody. When Mike saw the score for the first time, he asked if I was okay. I just wasn’t ready to discuss the argument, so I brushed the question off with a shrug. “Feeling nostalgic,” I told him. “Besides, I want to show the altos some love.” 

The altos later told me that was not the kind of love they were looking for. The sopranos, however, were ecstatic. Divas, the whole lot of them. 

Music from the MCU finished out the evening. Black Panther, Thor, Captain Marvel, and all the Avengers films wrapped into 10 minutes. It was supposed to be for Tom. I’d seriously contemplated scrapping the whole section after the fight but the entire orchestra vetoed the idea, citing it as the “entertaining” piece of the evening. I knew that if the musicians weren’t happy, no one was happy, so it stayed but they just wanted to play Immigrant Song.

We’d moved through to ‘Portals’ from the Endgame soundtrack and I could feel the energy of the audience change. They started shouting and clapping behind me. Maybe they’re loving the music with the latest movie having been released. We reached the scripted pause, and I kept going, but the orchestra doesn’t. They just sat there staring at me, and I was suddenly aware of “Loki” being chanted behind me. I glared at Mike, who’s grinning like the Cheshire Cat. That’s when the glint of gold caught my eye. I turned, finally dropping my arms when my mouth follows suit. 

Loki, or Tom, in full Loki regalia, strode toward me like a demi-god possessed. The horns sat above smouldering eyes, cape flowing behind him as he approached me like an animal stalking his prey. It took every ounce of self control I had not to pounce on him in front of God and the globe. I never could resist that costume, and he knew it. Instead, I simply crossed my arms.

“Please,” he growled, the swagger growing, “don’t stop on my account. Summon your Avengers.”

“Bad enough you destroy half of Manhattan with some half-baked scheme to take over the world. Now, you have the audacity to crash my gig and interrupt their music?”

He stopped short, head cocking to one side. I don’t think he was entirely sure if I was serious or just playing along. The infamous smile returned. 

“Forgive me. The interruption of the arts is indeed a sin, but the purpose behind my visit warrants such sacrilege.” When I didn’t answer, he removed his helmet, eliciting a new wave of cheers from the crowd. His hair was its natural ginger, long and wildly out of control. He turned to them and held a finger to his goateed lips, a la 2013’s Comic Con visit before placing the helmet on the stage. 

“I have found myself lamenting the loss of something very dear to me of late. Something that I believe you alone can help me recover.” He paused, his voice echoing through the speakers while his hands fells to his sides. “It pains me to admit such shortcomings, but I find that I am weaker without you, that I am lost without your presence in my life. I am heartbroken at each day that passes without the sound of your voice. So,” his cloak flew behind him with a flourish and he fell to one knee. A collective gasp came from the audience and the stage. “My lady, would you consider restoring to me the grace of your life and your love on a permanent basis?”

What the hell is happening? I glanced over at Mike. He, and the rest of the orchestra, are literally sitting on the edge of their seats. When I turn back to Tom, his arm is extended towards me, a small box with a ring sitting in the palm of his hand. Tom, channeling Loki, channeling King Hal. I was doomed.  

“Will you consent to be my queen and my love? Will you marry me?” 

His head dropped and my heart leapt into my throat. Time seemed to slow to a crawl while I recalled every fight, every laugh, every moment of passion and joy and sorrow. How could I possibly say yes? How could I not?

The soft sound of a camera lens focusing on me snapped me out of my time stop. He was still on bended knee, his arm shaking a bit. I stepped off of the platform and lifted his chin. For all his eloquence, I could only come up with a single word response. 

“Yes.”

Tom jumped to his feet and kissed me as everyone within earshot roared with approval. ‘All I Ask of You’ began to play and I made a mental note to fire then promote Mike later, as I was sure he’d been part of this plot all along. A moment passed in his arms before he finally stepped back, scooping up the golden horns.

“I shall be waiting with white horses, my queen.” 

“And here I thought you’d want me to play you out.”

“As long as it’s not ‘Performance Issues’.” 

“No promises.” I winked then stepped back onto the platform. “Ladies and gentlemen, shall we skip to the end?” Mike nodded and everyone found their page. I raised my hands and music from the Avengers theme rang out in the park.

Tom bowed to me before he slid the helmet back over his head, turned and walked to the side of the stage where Robert stood, raising his hands in victory when applause followed. I caught them embracing out of the corner of my eye and knew I’d have to give both of them grief later for the first glimpse of ‘FrostIron.’

We made it to the loft long after the final note sounded. There had been a sea of people congratulating me on the concert, the engagement, and everything in between. Tom vanished long enough to de-Loki, much to my disappointment, but stayed right next to me for the rest of the night. When we were finally able to leave, he ushered me out to a white Jag. White horses, indeed. 

He zipped through the streets of Manhattan with ease, taking as many backroads as possible to avoid traffic. I took the time to get a good look at the ring, and oh God was it stunning. A large oval stone set on its side with two smaller stones at either end set in a band of polished silver knotwork. Definitely handcrafted and a perfect fit.

“The band’s tungsten. I know how hard you are on jewelry,” Tom said with a wink.”The stones are moldavite, amethyst and garnet.” he glanced over, a smile on his face. “Us.” 

“It’s perfect,” I blushed a little, hoping he wouldn’t notice. “And you’re a dork of the highest caliber.”

That little laugh that drives all the ladies crazy slipped out as he nodded and pulled into the parking garage. Our elevator ride was silent as the family that snuck in just as the doors were closing bombarded Tom with more questions about Loki than I’d ever come up with. It made me think we’d have to take the service elevator from now on. 

All thoughts of anything beyond the man wrapped around me vanished as soon as the apartment door closed. Tom spun me around, planting a kiss that went from chaste to passion in point zero six seconds. I heard my keys hit the floor after I missed the end table. He growled when I tried to pick them up, nipping a little harder at my neck, pushing me toward the bedroom. 

We were all hands trying to shed clothes on the way. You’d think that as much coordination we had individually, we’d be able to make it look as graceful as it did in the movies. The poor boy got so frustrated that he picked me up, carried me down the hallway, and dropped me on the bed. Shoes and socks off, he stepped closer to unzip my dress while I worked on his pants. The conda sprang free as soon as the zipper fell. Another growl came from above when I wrapped my hand around it, morphing into a moan as when lips added. 

The bed dipped to one side a little with the weight of his leg. His hands rested on my shoulders as he tried to steady himself while I rolled my tongue around his cock. I couldn’t see his eyes with his head leaned back, but knew he was lost in the sensations, his hips rocking back and forth. He pulled out suddenly, tugged my hands away and upward to my feet. 

Another kiss, slower and more passionate while he finally figured out the zipper of my gown. His hands moved the fabric down, and the frustrated moan came when he remembered just how much effort went into making slinky black dresses look good. He nuzzled and nipped his way across my face and down my neck while he fumbled with the clasps of my bra. I returned the favor, dragging teeth along his neck until I was able to get his shirt open.  

What was left of my clothing dropped to the floor in one swift motion when Tom dropped to his knees, pushing me back onto the bed. I slid up the mattress and he followed, kissing and licking his way up my legs. He stopped at my hips, licking upward along the inside of my thigh but never quite made it to the center.

“If all you’re gonna do is tease,” I panted, “then get up here.”

“You would deny me the pleasure of devouring your already dripping quim?” Loki’s voice followed the dark, lust filled eyes that looked up at me. Before I could wrap my brain around my impending demise by god-lust, a finger slid inside me, followed by another. The smirk became a grin and he lowered his mouth to my clit, his eyes never leaving mine. 

He growled again as he began to suck, slowly pumping his ridiculously long fingers in and out of my pussy. I tried to squirm away when he picked up the pace and he wrapped his free arm around my leg, locking me in place. I lost count of how many times he brought me to the edge only to back off and begin again. My fingers found their way into his hair, tugging him upward, only to be rewarded with his teeth dragging across my swollen bud. 

“Not until you cum,” he purred, still latched on to me. He began thrusting the fingers inside me, curling them around to brush against that little bundle of nerve while he clamped down with lips and teeth. It didn’t take long for my body to shatter beneath him, my orgasm tearing its way out of me with a scream. He anchored me down with both arms, sucking out every last drop I could offer. 

When I came back to reality, he was making a slow path up my body, his breath hot on my skin. His lips finally reached mine and I took rough possession of them, wanting to taste him. The tip of his cock brushed against my pussy and I shivered. Tom pulled away a bit. 

“Need a bit longer to recover?” he whispered, nuzzling against my cheek. 

“Absolutely not.” I pulled him closer to me and shifted a bit, sliding a hand down his stomach. “Only thing I need is you.” My fingers wrapped around his length and guided him inside. 

“Oh. My. Go...” The last syllable was lost in the moan that rumbled in his chest. He was completely still above me except the slow thrust to push himself deeper, nearly purring as he went. I moved my hands along his sides and he sighed. “Been too long. Won’t last.”

“Ditto,” I breathed into his ear, “on both counts. Just move.”

Tom obliged, rocking his hips back and forth, moving a little faster with each thrust. I tried to lift my hips to his, but he built a pace I just couldn’t maintain. All I could do was hold onto him, losing myself in the feeling his body in mine and the sounds we made. His moans took on a higher pitch and his thrusts became erratic until every muscle in his body tensed, his seed spilling in waves. Feeling him cum sent me back over the edge, and I could’ve sworn I heard him chuckle as I clamped down around him.

We lay tangled in each other for a while, basking in the afterglow. He finally moved to the side, eliciting a groan from both of us when he did. Ever the gentleman, he let me duck into the loo first while he turned down the bed. Both settled back in bed, I curled up next to him, my head resting on his chest. 

“Love?” he whispered, toying with a lock of my hair. “Are you sure?”

“Sure of what?” 

“This,” he spoke as he ran his fingers along my left hand to the ring. “I know you wouldn’t have refused me in front of the entire world and half of Manhattan, even if you wanted to.” I lifted my head from his chest to look at him. There was genuine concern on his face as he sighed. “So, are you sure?”

“You’re serious?” His face turned sheepish. “Then let me answer a question with a question.”

“What? You hate it when I do that!” He sat up a bit and I pressed a finger to his lips.

“Thomas William Loki Adam Hank Henry Robert Freddie Jonathan Oakley Hiddleston the fifth, Lord Nooth, rightful king of the Jotunheim, England, Ireland, Scotland...”

“Okay, okay, enough,” he chuckled. I grinned at him. 

“Will you marry me?” His eyes went wide and teared up a bit. He began nodding furiously until I kissed him.

Neither of us slept that night.

[onemanrenaissance]

Smoldered Earth

Next to Godliness

*A Saturday Night

Two messily poured Macallan shots raced their way across the slippery bar top; two sidewinders crashing into the awaiting hands of what appeared to be very good friends or two very pretentious acquaintances.  The two embraced their libations – a few sheets in for each, but neither kept tally; they choked those down while heading back into the thrust of the exhibit.  A warehouse/pop up of various art displays – the type that catch fire & trend socially via tagged locations & pervasive backdrops – served as scenario for the this summit of sorts.

 “It’s…it’s this odd grey area I’ve mastered in the last few years…the point right before I push…it’s like I’m in there &…I-I can sense the reflex or the conditions & deduce from there,” Sw!tch slurred in between various attempts at landing the right pose.

 Bub, sprawled across the floor in front of Sw!tch, angled to capture something remotely flattering, attempting to negotiate his phone.  Suddenly, Bub popped up as if something novel dawned on him.

 “Right before you push, huh?”  Bub started as Sw!tch stared back with a dim lidded dry expression; “…I was wondering why I’d do something as primitive as take a camera phone picture when it’s a dozen security cameras & over 200 phones in here at the moment, 17 of which are angled at you.”

 “Creepy flex…” Sw!tch started, “…so, that’s how your powers work…I’ve seen a few technopaths, but most need physical interface – but they we’re still able to track your ass down from your signature.”

 “Novice groupies,” Bub sneered.

 *Two Hours Before

           Sw!tch had no clue who or what’d he’d meet inside, but he resigned that it wouldn’t be in the realm of his worst case probabilities – it never is, & he wouldn’t let that stall him tonight.  He looked over the edge of his dash at the security camera that had conspicuously angled itself towards his vehicle on arrival.  He knew that whoever was trailing & surveilling him, had been digging for information on his mother, Sharlyn Isaacs, was inside, & he had no name – just a dark web pseudo.  He exited his vehicle, & made his way alongside the buildings perimeter, emerging from the cameras peripheral into its direct view as it adjusted its gaze. Entering space, he knew the behavioral affects trafficked in by my technopaths, & that they would position near the back house since proximity is the name of the game, hissing off any other competition or potential usurper like a feral cat – thus isolating themselves; so, more than likely near security, servers, or both.

            Bub leisurely sipped his drink while rapidly perusing circuit sets to relay to cameras inside the facility when he felt a blinding pinch begin above his right eye; it felt like the slow birth of migraine as he heard an unfamiliar voice spill over his shoulder.

“Yea…proximity is my thing, as well,” Sw!tich started, “…now you know how my powers work…& I need to know why you’re prepping to dox my 60 year old mother.”

 “I see you got my invite,” Bub started, extending his hand after rubbing his right temple, “…I’m Bub.”

 Gripping his hand while staring suspiciously, Sw!tch, responded, “Sylas Issacs, Jr.”

 “C’mon, government,” Bub quipped, eliciting a smirk from Sw!tch, “…but what do powered call you?”

 “Switch,” Sw!tch responded.

 “Ahh…” Bub exclaimed, “…because you can disable powers…turn things off…”

 “& on,” Sw!tch started, “…I can exert, force particles on a molecular level in powered & non powered…there’s a finesse to manipulating beyond that point—but, yea that has nothing to do with why I’m here. You’re researching my mother; I get security alerts on familial inquires because of my profile, I had my TP’s locate you, & I assume you saw us looking at you, & I received your invite to this “marketing social.”  Cute, touch. So why?”

 “I was hired,” said Bub.

 “By?” Sw!tch responded.

Shaking the loose ice cubes in his now empty tumbler, Bub responded, “Your sister.”

           It was a release of sorts – the situation was suddenly more complex than it was the second prior, but for Sw!tch, it was a case of “better the devil you know,” & he realized Bub’s employment & or short term alliance with his sister were his only insights into her endeavors.

 “Bartender…two doubles of whatever he had,” Sw!tch said leaning over the bar & motioning at the mixologist before looking back at Bub, “we’re about to become fast friends.”

*Two Tuesdays After

“So…..explain me to this cleaner business again?” a puzzled Sw!tch stammered out climbing between a wall & adjacent dumpster, Bub just ahead of him standing in front of two green metal doors.

 “Essentially…people pay me to clean traces of digital presence, dark web resin…I’m a one man contingency plan if you will...” Bub started, “…if something should impair or dispose of my clients, I handle disposing of the pertinent, traceable impairments known as data.”

 “& investigation falls under your auspices,” Sw!tch questioned.

 “With the money your sister has I’d jack off a dolphin, or let her put grapes in my potato salad,” Bub responded while decrypting the RFID lock on the entrance.

 “Caucasianally Poetic,” Sw!tch retorted, & continued, “why are we coming in the back entrance of the hospital?”

 “We’re going to the morgue,” said Bub flippantly.

 “Yea, about your invites,” Sw!tch whispered while bawling in his lips, “…yea, this is why I don’t do “hero” shit.”

 Turning to Sw!tch, Bub responded, “why are you whispering?  No one’s down here, we’re on between shifts & everyone else is dead.”

            Bub continued to lead them down the corridor, & banked left into room & then paused before slowly rescinding from its entrance planting his back against the wall adjacent.  Head titled from a distance, attempting to identify what halted Bub in his tracks, Bub shh’d Sw!tch as he inched closer & peered around the corner to see an attendant upright & sleep behind a desk.  Slowly recoiling back, eyebrows lifted, he scowled at Bub.

 “No one’s here – everyone’s dead,” Sw!tch mockingly sneered.

            Bub was mid sentence asking what they could do when they heard the attendant yawn & bustle in the chair during a stretch; Sw!tch quickly disabled the attendant’s sight & auditory functions temporarily & rushed Bub into the room.

 “Smooooooth, Sw!tch, the Helen Keller,” Bub exclaimed as the man flailed & fell from behind his desk to the floor in a spastic stupor.  

 “He’ll be fine,” Sw!tch murmured as he stepped around the man in a full panic on the floor beneath him, “…why are we here?”

 “One of my clients is in here, & I need his thumb to unlock his phone – I can’t “Bub” my way passed biometrics just yet,” said Bub pulling the phone out of his pocket & waving it, just before locating the mortuary cooler drawer containing his clients & easing forth his corpse.

 “Oh, God he’s crying,” muttered Sw!tch looking back at the attendant, “I always forget to turn that off, too,” he said swinging back forward as Bub unzipped the body bag, “Aaron Spivey?!” Sw!tch exclaimed.

 “How the hell do you know, Aaron?” asked a concerned Bub.

 “Daedalus is one my firm’s bigger accounts & Aaron was one of the contacts when we first inked the deal years ago…when did he die?” Sw!tch responded.

 “Two nights ago,” Bub responded.

 “How?” asked Sw!tch moving back towards the desk.

 “Autopsy pending,” said Bub turning back to look at Sw!tch, “are you eating that man’s kettle corn chips, Switch?!”

 They’re salt & vinegar & they we’re unopened!” Sw!tch responded dryly with a mouth full of chips.

 “Anyway, I’ve got what I need – we need to head to his place now…can you switch him back on”

            Bub reprogrammed they unlocked mobile device, & Sw!tch restored the attendants senses to much rejoice on his end. They arrived to Aaron’s apartment; it wasn’t messy as expected, but lived in.  The loft was spacious, & completely automated, so the space continued on in his absence & didn’t feel stale or unattended.  Bub took to searching the premises for the collateral specified for decommissioning per his client as Sw!tch slunk down in the large sectional sofa in the living room, backed by a large floor to ceiling windows overlooking the bustling metro below.  The coffee table centered in front of Sw!tch had large cashmere throw draped over it, & it looked odd & off put, but Sw!tch removed his shoes, propped his feet on it, & leaned back for a bit respite.  Drifting a little, Sw!tch began to rustle his heels back & forth on the soft throw, as the faint occurrence began to resonate in his mind that a throw on coffee table was kind of peculiar, the throw’s silky underbelly caused it to slide off, unsheathing a portion of the large, amber yellow, resin coffee table.  Sitting up, Sw!tch’s head tilted slowly as he looked at the coffee.

 “BUBBBBBBBBBBBBB!” Sw!tch yelled until Bub stumbling over himself made his way back into the living room.

 “Wh-what’s wrong?” he questioned with alarm as he looked at Sw!tch, who wide eyed, was pointing down at the resin coffee table encasing a women’s body.  “No, no, no,” Bub exclaimed walking around the sectional to get a closer look, “I dump data, I don’t dump bodies!”

            Sw!tch stood frozen as Bub got down on his hands & knees to peer closer at the women seemingly fossilized alive, at the time, in amber.  Then Bub reeled backwards – back & shoulders first, then neck.  His whispered & manic “no” beginning to crescendo.

 “What….WHAT….WHAT else is wrong now besides Jurassic Jane here…what else is happening on this Bub adventure” Sw!tch began rattling off & pacing, “this why I don’t this “hero” shit, it’s bodies, dolphin dicks, white women in tables,” trailing into what sounded like a low prayer.

 “That is Portia Mackavic,” Bub said softly.

 “Who?” Sw!tch responded opening one eye, breaking from his fervent prayer.

 “Portia Mackavic…mercenary…pretty much the hand of organized, stealth syndicate, Killer Concert,” Bub responded to Sw!tch’s blank expression, followed by a pause, & Bub shattering said pause with, “Mackavie!”

 “Bitch, Mackavie,” Sw!tch responded before heading for the door, “we gotta go!”

            Time slowed  as they were heading for the door, stepping off the carpet, breaching the laminate flooring in the kitchen, the sink & island to their left; that’s when they heard the high pitched whirling – akin to the sound of a whisper, but loud & growing towards a piercing wail as the sound & its source neared.  An AirTronic GS-777 entered the home in the bedroom further to their left; the blast flooring them both, flinging the drywall the comprised the bedroom towards them in chunks, blended with glass & all manner of décor reduced to projectile debris.  The ringing in their ears subsided – met then by the concurrent cadences of fire alarms, flushing sprinklers, emergency sirens, & the lamenting of trapped victims & onlookers.  Bub nudged Sw!tch who was still looking about from his prone position on the floor.  Both stumbled from the front down the lengthy hallway to the still operative & oddly empty elevator.

 Jamming the lobby button repeatedly with his bloody thumb, Sw!tch looked over to Bub, & said, “what do we do about the body?”

 As the elevator door closed, Bub responded, “there’s some messes you just can’t clean.”

[scaryscarecrows]

Creepy

Dove glances in the rearview mirror again and shudders. Two white masks stare back at her, eerily reminiscent of that one Courage the Cowardly Dog episode, the one she hates*.

Where the hell did Cobblepot find these…these things? And what are they under there, clockwork people? The way Gotham's gotten lately, she wouldn't be surprised.

As one, they twitch, razor-fingers rubbing together, and she almost wishes it was Zsasz in the back. Zsasz is creepy and weird and likes to sing Disney songs off-key, but at least he's human. These? She's seen them scale a wall with those creepy razor-fingers. People don't do that.

She's tempted to try and make conversation. Maybe this is just their gimmick, and under there they're perfectly normal and they can all go out for drinks after work.

But Cobblepot is asleep and y'know, she really doesn't want to make nice.

He twitches and burrows into his coat a little more and she reaches to turn the A/C down. In the back, two sets of razor-fingers rub together and she yanks her hand back.

"Just turning down the air conditioning," she soothes. "But I can leave it."

She gets no response-y'know, she's never heard them actually speak-and she inches her fingers towards the knob again. Nothing happens and she turns it to off.

She hates roadtrips. She hates this one especially, because Cobblepot wants to talk to Jonathan Crane, the creepy guy who feeds on screams. He's a little bit outside of Gotham for some reason. She's pretty sure he's hiding from Batman, because only a complete dumbass poisons sixty kindergarteners and doesn't hide from Batman.

Brr.

There's a noise in the back, like the Troodon from that one Jurassic Park game, and she peeks into the rearview mirror. The things have moved so they're clustered on her side of the car, and she's pretty sure they're staring at her. If they have eyes under there.

"Hi." They don't do anything. "My name's Dove."

Still no answer, and she leaves them alone.

Cobblepot twitches again, fingers flexing around the handle of his umbrella. She inches as far away from him as humanly possible and glances in the back. The things have settled back into a normal position, razor-fingers laid demurely in their laps.

At least Crane's human. Psychotic and freaky, but human. She never thought she'd be so grateful for that.

"Kindly go the speed limit, Miss Marquis."

JESUS FUCKING-

Oopsies.

She eases off the gas (it was five miles over, jeeze) and wonders how much longer they'll take.

Not long, it turns out-the address is a seemingly abandoned farmhouse, set back from the main road. She wonders if this was intentional-don't they call him the Scarecrow? She doesn't dare-if she has to speak to him, it's 'Dr. Crane' and nothing else.

The freaky things in the back pay no mind to the bumpy road, but Cobblepot bitches the whole way, grumbling about 'damn Crane' and 'probably intentional' and 'always has to make things difficult'. She wonders if he'll dare say anything to the man himself.

Up close, the farmhouse looks like it's been abandoned since the beginning of time. The porch is falling in, the paint is long flaked away, and a lone shutter flaps angrily in the wind. The whole thing screams, 'GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN'.

She wants to run back to the car and abandon Cobblepot and the creepy things. Crane can keep them. She's sure he won't mind.

"Ring the doorbell."

It has a doorbell?

Oh, so it does. It's not a booby-trap, is it?

She squeezes her eyes shut and pushes it, tearing her finger back with lightning speed. Nothing bad happens. Also, nobody answers the door.

"Again."

Aw, man!

She pushes it again. This time the door opens with a long-suffering creaaaak.

"Cobblepot." Crane sounds pissed already. "What are you doing here."

"We have business to discuss, remember?"

"That was…damn. Get in before you attract someone's attention."

They enter. The hallway is dark and cramped and she's not sure which is worse-being crammed close to Crane, Cobblepot, or the…the things.

They rub their fingers together and she decides they're the worst choice. She can outrun Cobblepot. Crane…at least Crane's human. That, and by the way he's moving, he's injured. Good. That's what happens when you attack little kids.

"What happened to you?"

"Batman happened," he says shortly. "So let's make this brief, I am exhausted and in pain."

"The best laid plans-"

"Don't even start."

They shuffle into a living room that looks like it hasn't been changed since the eighteen hundreds. Crane sinks into an oversized armchair with a low groan and turns on the lamp.

He looks like hell-he's bruised and cut to shit, and she can see the rough outline of a bandage under his shirt. She can't muster up much sympathy.

"Who's here…Oswald. Thought you weren't coming until tomorrow."

"No, it was today." He offers an insincere smile. "Hello, Kitty."

Kitty Richardson doesn't look much better than Crane-she's cut and bruised and moving with a bit of a limp. Good. She settles into Crane's armchair and murmurs, "I'd offer tea, but we really haven't settled in much yet."

"They're fine," Crane grumbles. "And who are they? I did not issue an invitation for a house party."

"You've met my driver, Miss Marquis." Don't call attention to me! "These are the Kabuki twins. They are my new bodyguards."

"I see." Crane sounds less interested than she expected. She's dying to know what's under there. Well, not really, but still. "Fine. You wanted to discuss something, Cobblepot. What was it."

Cobblepot ignores him, preferring instead to look around the room. There's not much to look at, really-a few dusty pictures, ugly, ancient furniture, and a handful of bloodstains leading into the hall.

"How did you get the previous owner to part with it?"

"Care to find out for yourself?"

"Jonathan…"

"What?"

"You know what."

Dove is suddenly very grateful for Richardson's presence.

"The usual methods." he grinds out. "Now, why. Are. You. Here."

The…Kabuki twins…move, razors rubbing together with a soft scraping noise. Crane chuckles.

"Did you do that, or did they come that way?"

"Never mind them. I wish to make a purchase from you."

"I don't sell my product, Cobblepot. You know that."

"No, not that. I want nothing to do with that formula of yours. You'll spike it." Crane grins at that, a skeletal smile that makes the cuts on his face stretch into malformed lines that look like stitches. "There is a chemical, a rather delicate chemical, that can incite birds into a vicious frenzy without causing lasting harm. I want you to make it for me."**

"Is that so." Crane's voice is flat. "Where did you hear of this chemical, Oswald?"

"A little bird told me."

" What bird, Oswald."

Dove shudders. The Kabuki twins make the Troodon-noise again and brandish the razors.

"Hello, Scarecrow."

" Answer, little Penguin. What. Bird."

"No. I don't want you murdering him. Will you make it, or not?"

Crane-is it Crane now?-doesn't answer, preferring instead to fix those unsettlingly blue eyes on the Kabuki twins.

" Are they afraid, I wonder?"

"I wouldn't test it."

"Oh, that's tempting." Dove shudders. "Come back next week."

"Next week would be perfect."

And then, much faster than he'd been moving earlier, Crane rises from the chair and crosses the room in two long steps. The Kabuki twins move as though to take him out and Cobblepot raises a hand.

"You know my price," he hisses. "Cost of the chemicals, and a good pair of lungs."

"Of course."

" I'll know who to blame if the Bat shows up, Cobblepot. He'd better not."

"Would I do that to a friend?"

Crane cackles and suddenly staggers back, coughing and curling an arm around his ribs. Richardson struggles up from the chair.

"Unless you have further business to discuss…"

"No, no, we'll leave you to your rest." Cobblepot rises. "Come along. I'll see you next week, then."

"Just get out, before I change my mind."

"Feel better! We'll show ourselves out."

The last she sees of them, they've retreated to the armchair. Brr. She's not looking forward to coming back when they're feeling better.

For that matter, she thinks, trudging to the car to open the doors for razor-fingers, she's not looking forward to the drive back to Gotham, either.

THE END

*Dove means The Mask, which is creepy and also an unsettlingly realistic depiction of gangland violence and domestic abuse. Hits a bit close to home for her sometimes.

**Oswald has sources. And one of those sources told him some interesting things about Crane's past-a few things about crows in particular.

[axiumin]

EXO Reaction | Pick-up

The reader is a terrible flirt.

Xiumin

Minseok is one of the hardest-working, most dedicated people you know. On one hand, you admired that part of him deeply. As a matter of fact, it’s those qualities, among others, that attracted you to him in the first place. But on the other hand, you knew how prone he was to overworking himself.

You liked to check in with him occasionally, just to make sure he was taking care of himself. But his responses had been far from timely the last few days. You could go hours without a message back from him, and more than once, you’d gotten a response in the middle of the night.

So, you figured it was time for you to be a bit more proactive.

You swung by Minseok’s favorite coffee shop and picked up his usual. Then, like the angel you were, you delivered it right to his front door.

Your face immediately softened when the door opened to reveal Minseok. He looked exhausted: his hair looked like he had run his fingers through it a few too many times, and dark smudges had settled under his eyes. But he smiled, soft and pleased, when he saw you.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” he asked, opening the door wider and stepping aside so you could enter.

You smiled at Minseok and pressed a kiss to his cheek before pulling back and offering him the drink you’d bought.

“I got you coffee from your favorite place. I thought you’d need it.”

Minseok reverently took the coffee from you, removing the lid off so he could inhale the scent.

“Oh, Y/N,” he sighed, taking what appeared to be a downright rapturous sip of the coffee. “You shouldn’t have.”

“Of course I should have,” you said with a shrug. Deciding to make yourself at home, you went ahead and plopped on the couch.

Minseok took another pull from his coffee before focusing his attention back on you, a small frown tugging at his lips.

“Ah, but Y/N, you really shouldn’t have. I’ve been ignoring you in favor of work for the last few days. I don’t deserve your kindness.”

You just huffed and patted the cushion beside you until he got the hint and joined you on the couch. As soon as he was seated, you took the coffee from his hands and set it on the table so you could safely cuddle up to him.

“Nonsense,” you said, more soft than reprimanding. “I know how important your work is. As long as I know you’re taking care of yourself, I don’t mind waiting until you’re finished with what you need to do.”

You smiled, looking up at him with sweet eyes.

“Besides,” you continued, smile growing. “I got you coffee just because I like you a latte.” You snickered a bit as Minseok closed his eyes and groaned.

“You know what, maybe I should get back to work.” Minseok pretended to get up, but he fell back into the cushions when you made a noise of protest and refused to budge.

“Ah, you’re lucky, Y/N,” he sighed, settling in and bringing a hand up to rub your arm. “I like you a latte, too.”

You smiled. “I sure am.”

Suho

Somehow, you’d never thought that packing all of your belongings into a bunch of cardboard boxes could be this exciting. Then again, it’s not every day you move in with your amazing boyfriend for the first time. So you supposed that you had a good excuse for feeling a renewed flutter of butterflies in your stomach every time you stowed away another item.

To your credit, it looked like Junmyeon was feeling every ounce of excitement you were. Every time you looked up see how he was doing, he looked up from his own cardboard box and beamed at you.

Fortunately, your old apartment wasn’t too big, so between the two of you, things got packed up pretty quickly— even with you two making eyes at each other every other minute. Soon enough, you were standing with Junmyeon in the middle of your old living room, surrounded only by cardboard boxes.

“Thank you so much for offering to help me pack up, Junmyeon,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist. His arm came up around your shoulders and squeezed.

“I wasn’t going to let you do this on your own, Y/N,” he admonished gently. “Besides, it’s not like it took that long anyway. All we have to do now is get the boxes out and clean the floors.”

You made short work of the boxes, and soon you were sweeping the floors while Junmyeon filled a bucket with hot soapy water for the mop.

“You know,” you said conversationally, “this broom kind of reminds me of you.”

“Oh yeah?” Junmyeon replied, glancing over at you. You stopped sweeping and straightened up to smile at him.

“Yeah, you sweep me off my feet!” The beauty of being with Junmyeon is that you could tell the lamest joke on the planet, and he’d still find it genuinely funny. This was no exception.

Junmyeon chuckled and moved to place a kiss on your forehead.

“You’re so beautiful and you make me laugh. I can’t wait to wake up next to you every day.”

You smiled back, broom forgotten. “Yeah, me too.”

Lay

You were lying on the couch watching television with Yixing when the new Jurassic World trailer started playing. You smirked a bit and glanced at Yixing, who was watching the trailer with rapt attention.

“So, does this mean you want to see it?” you asked. Yixing dragged his eyes away from the TV to look at you.

“Do you want to see it?” he asked, a bit surprised. You shrugged. On one hand, you weren’t exactly thrilled to see the same story of dinosaurs versus humans played out for the fifth time. But on the other hand, this was just one of those franchises that was going to take your money until someone else came along and made an even cooler movie about dinosaurs. Besides...

“If nothing else, I suppose it’ll be a good research opportunity for you,” you teased, smirking.

Yixing just looked at you, eyes wide and innocent, face openly confused. You couldn’t stifle an affectionate sigh. It never ceased to amaze you how this man could spend 99% of his daily life being an absolute angel just to turn into some sort of devil when he performed on stage.

“Didn’t you say you were interested in playing a dinosaur if you ever acted?” you clarified. “This could be your chance to study dinosaur behavior and prepare for your future role.” Recognition sparked in Yixing’s eyes.

“Ah, you remember that.” He considered this for a moment. “I suppose you have a point. I really should prepare myself as much as possible for that opportunity.” He would have seemed perfectly sincere if the corner of his mouth hadn’t quirked up.

“Hmm, yeah. Maybe if you practice real hard with this movie, they might cast you as a velociraptor in the next one!”

Yixing shook his head fervently at that.

“Y/N, if I’m going to be any dinosaur, I think it has to be a t-rex!” To prove his point, he folded his arms like said t-rex and leaned into you almost to the point of falling, teeth chomping harmlessly on your shoulder.

“Okay, okay!” you cried, pushing him off of you even as you laughed. “Go big or go home, I guess.”

Yixing sat up with a smile and wrapped an arm back around your shoulders so you could resume watching TV peacefully. Still, your mind was still on Yixing’s little performance, and you felt a smile tugging at your lips.

“Hey, Yixing.” You waited for him to hum in acknowledgement. “Kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?”

Yixing looked at you, frowning.

“How can you say that when I’m a dinosaur and I clearly still exist? I can’t kiss you now!”

But his eyes were sparkling the way they always do when he’s feeling mischievous, and he made no move to resist when you laughed and pulled him in for a kiss anyway.

Baekhyun

You were supposed to meet Baekhyun at a nearby cafe during your lunch break. But then there had been a holdup at work, and now you were power-walking something fierce down the sidewalk, hoping that he wouldn’t have to wait too long for you.

You sighed in relief when the cafe came into view up ahead, but you pouted when you saw Baekhyun was sitting at a table already, looking around as if to find you. You picked up your pace a bit, eager to end his waiting.

But something sort of… went wrong in the communication between your brain and your feet as you approached him. Instead of stopping at the table and sitting down like a normal person, you kept on walking right past the table, completely aware of Baekhyun’s bewildered gaze following you.

A moment later, your brain finally caught up, and your feet came to an abrupt halt. You stood still for just a moment before turning around to look at Baekhyun again, inwardly groaning as you saw the playful grin stretching across his face. You knew he was going to tease you terribly for this.

So you might as well have some fun with this too, right?

Piecing together your dignity, you straightened your back and sauntered over to the table, leaning your hip against it with a cheeky smile.

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk past again?” you teased, feeling a lovely flutter in your chest when Baekhyun mirrored your smirk.

“By all means, you can pass by again. I get a lovely view when you do.” He fluttered his lashes at you and you laughed, bright and bubbly as you pulled out your chair and sat across from him.

Chen

There were worse fates than being trapped in bed on a Saturday morning because your boyfriend turned into a cuddly octopus when he slept. The part of you that was restless to get up and start the day was blessedly small and easy to silence, so it ended up being quite peaceful to stay warm and snuggled up in bed, nothing but the sound of distant birdsong and Jongdae’s breathing against your neck to keep you company.

You were unaware of how much time passed, lulled into a half-meditative state by the gentle sounds of the morning, before movement from beside you pulled you back into full wakefulness.

Jongdae snuffled a bit and nuzzled further into your neck for just a moment before finally relenting to the pull of consciousness and lifting his head. He blinked blearily at you for a moment, his face close to yours. When he was finally alert enough to recognize that you were awake and staring right back at him, his face broke out in a smile so sweet it left you breathless.

“Good morning,” you whispered. “Did the sun just come out, or was that just your smile?”

Jongdae just groaned and dropped his head back down.

“It’s too early for this, Y/N,” he grumbled, voice sleep-rough and slightly muffled. But you could still feel his smile against your neck.

“It’s not early anymore,” you countered gently. “Come on, you. Release me so we can go make breakfast.”

You pushed at the arms that still encircled you, but they only pulled you in tighter. The mouth that had been smiling just a moment ago now busied itself pressing kisses to your neck. Your breath hitched when Jongdae found a particularly sensitive spot, and you tilted your head to allow for better access.

Okay, breakfast could wait.

Chanyeol

Chanyeol, you discovered soon after you started dating, was an absolute romantic. He bought flowers, he remembered even the tiniest details about you, he serenaded you with his guitar— the works. And when it came to dates, this boy pulled out every creative and fun date idea he could think of.

His latest idea was ice skating.

Strapping razor blades to your feet and sending yourself careening across a patch of ice maybe wasn’t your first choice for a date, but Chanyeol had looked so genuinely excited when he took you to the ice rink that you just couldn’t find it in yourself to say no.

So there you were, as wobbly as a newborn giraffe, clinging to your equally giraffe-like boyfriend for dear life. But rather than be supportive of you during your time of need, said boyfriend was just laughing at you.

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he assured, not even complaining that you were squeezing the life out of his hand. “Let’s just try moving.”

It took a lot of coaxing and a few heart-stopping near-slips before the two of you were skating around the perimeter of the rink at a slow but reasonable pace. Your hand was still crushing Chanyeol’s in a death grip, but you had to admit that this was actually kind of fun.

You looked up at Chanyeol’s face. The breeze from your skating pushed his hair back just a bit, and his face was smiling and flushed from the cold.

Yeah, you thought, you could kind of get used to this.

Or at least that’s what you thought until another skater clipped your shoulder when passing by a bit too quickly, sending both you and Chanyeol flailing and crashing down on the ice in an unceremonious pile.

You groaned from somewhere underneath Chanyeol’s shoulder, dissatisfied at how intimately your ass had gotten to know the feeling of the cold, hard ice. For his part, Chanyeol scrambled to pull the two of you into a sitting position.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Chanyeol’s worried face was just inches in front of yours, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his guilty puppy eyes.

“Can you call a doctor? I think I sprained something when I fell for you,” you said, unable to resist. Chanyeol just rolled his eyes and inspected your head for any sign of a bump.

“Yah, you don’t have a concussion, do you?” he asked. You could hear the real worry beneath the veneer of exasperation. You just snorted and pushed his hands away.

“I was flirting, Chanyeol. Now help me up and let’s get back to our romantic death skating date.”

D.O.

You sat on a stool safely on the far side of the kitchen counter, your chin propped on your hand as you watched Kyungsoo bustle about. You had offered to make yourself useful and help him with dinner, and you had to feign disappointment when he waved you off with a smile. It’s not that you didn’t enjoy cooking— or, more accurately, helping Kyungsoo cook— but the view was just so much better from over here.

So you sat safely out of harm’s way and pretended to be more interested in what Kyungsoo was doing than the deft movements of his hands when he worked or the curve of his ass when he bent to check the contents of the oven. Honestly, there were worse ways to spend an evening.

“Y/N,” Kyungsoo called. “Can you come taste this? I feel like there’s something missing.”

Ah, and here was your other favorite part of watching Kyungsoo cook: he had you taste-test everything. You eagerly slid off the stool and padded over to where Kyungsoo was holding up the tasting spoon. You leaned forward to let him place the spoon in your mouth, humming thoughtfully as you mulled over the flavor.

“Maybe a bit more spice?” you suggested. Kyungsoo took a taste for himself and considered this.

“Yeah, I think you’re right.”

You supervised from behind Kyungsoo’s shoulder, watching as he added some chili flakes to the mixture. You waited expectantly for him to turn and offer you the spoon again, but your expectancy turned to mild concern as you noticed that Kyungsoo seemed frozen in place, his expression looking oddly uncomfortable.

“Kyungsoo, what’s—?”

You were cut off by the sound of Kyungsoo’s sneeze. You blinked in a surprise for a moment before chuckling.

“I’d say ‘God bless you’, but it looks like he already did,” you teased, wiggling your eyebrows at Kyungsoo and giving him an exaggerated once-over.

He snorted and ducked his head to hide his smile.

“Just taste this and let me know if it’s okay.”

Kai

There were only so many times you could reread the same sentence in your book before you had to admit that you just weren’t going to get any more reading done.

It was a languid afternoon, warm and thick, and you were sprawled across the couch, leaning into the breeze of your fan. Beside you, Jongin was sprawled just as inelegantly, eyes glued to the TV as he played his current favorite video game. Usually, you were content to spend time together just doing your own thing, but you were overheated and restless this afternoon.

Finally abandoning your book, your eyes roved around the room in search of something more entertaining. Your eyes rested on the fan for a moment before quickly losing interest. Then, they dragged over to the clock to watch the steady ticking of the seconds hand. This lasted a good half minute before you lost interest in that, too, and invariably ended up focusing on the most interesting thing in the room.

Jongin’s gaze was intent on the screen, and you guessed from the way his brow occasionally furrowed that he was currently working through a difficult spot in the game. Your eyes soaked in the details of his form, wandering down the smooth expanse of his neck to his broad chest and then down his strong arms to his clever and capable hands. You were just beginning to wonder how his long legs would feel wrapped around you when he finally spoke.

“Y/N?” His eyes hadn’t even flicked away from the screen for a moment, but you weren’t particularly surprised to realize that he felt your stare.

“I think there’s something wrong with my eyes.” And this time he did turn to you, alarmed. “I can’t stop staring at you,” you finished, mouth quirking into a smile. Jongin somehow managed to look bashful even as he smirked back at you.

“Do you want me to stop playing? We can find something to do together if you’re bored,” he offered generously. Your eyes wandered back down to his legs.

“You know, I did have a few questions you could help me answer.”

Sehun

It looked predominantly blue with some yellow splotches. Or was it predominantly yellow with blue splotches? You squinted your eyes and tilted your head, trying to gain a better understanding of the painting in front of you.

Modern art had never been your strong suit, but an afternoon of wandering around downtown with Sehun had turned into an impromptu museum trip, and here you were, trying to decipher the meaning of colors.

You shot a glance to your side to see Sehun staring intently at a sculpture that was made out of an old car door and metal scraps. You honestly couldn’t tell from his expression if he was just as puzzled as you were or nearing artistic enlightenment.

The museum was hushed around you. Other people milled about, the tapping their footsteps on the hardwood floors echoing against the tall ceilings above. But there was little conversation here— just contemplation as people soaked in the art.

You fidgeted restlessly, resisting the urge to ask Sehun— or anyone— what the large pile of still-drying clay in the middle of the room meant.

Noticing your restlessness, Sehun shuffled over to stand next to you and gently bumped his shoulder against yours.

“What do you think of this place, Y/N?” he asked softly. From the way his eyes scrunched just a bit in amusement, he knew exactly how you were feeling. You huffed quietly and bumped his shoulder back.

“What do you think about this place?” you countered, surreptitiously eyeing a nearby guard to make sure you weren’t going to be reprimanded for speaking. It wasn’t like you were in a library, where you were expected to be quiet, but it still felt wrong to disrupt the silence of this place.

“I think I’d rather be drinking bubble tea right now,” he admitted easily. He looked longingly at his phone and shot his own glance at the guard, as if he wanted to take a picture but wasn’t sure if he was allowed to.

You perked up immediately and laced your fingers with his.

“That can be arranged,” you said eagerly, just a hair too loud as you started to pull him in the direction of the exit.

Sehun chuckled and trotted a bit to catch up with you.

“So you didn’t like it at all?” he asked. You shrugged.

“An entire museum, and you were the finest piece of art in that place.”

He smiled, sweet and crescent moon-eyed.

[crowdvscritic]

round up // JUNE 20

The quarantine continues, and so does my insane level of film consumption. As you’ve probably discovered in your many a Zoom call, if you ask, “What’s new?” you usually get a, “Nothing much since we last talked.” Of course, these days no news means good news, so I’ll happily confirm the same is true here at Crowd vs. Critic. In this time of no movie theatres and few new releases, I’m catching up on a lot of classics and squeezing in a yoga sesh and reading in between. Perhaps these pop culture pieces that brought me joy in June will bring you some in July!

June Crowd-Pleasers

Yoga with Adriene

Adriene is all about finding what feels good, and her yoga videos have been helping me feel good during quarantine. I’m a big fan of browsing her YouTube playlist of 20-30 minute practices and picking whatever focus sounds like it would, well, feel good on my lunch break or when I wrap up my work day. If you’re looking for a way to stay active, destressed, or stretched out, Adriene’s (and her dog Benji’s) friendly videos have become my go-to.

The World According to Jeff Goldblum (2019- )

You know those people who can make anything interesting? Jeff Goldblum is the quintessence of that kind of person. Every episode of this Disney+ docuseries covers a broad topic that happens to intrigue him, including ice cream, tattoos, denim, RVs, and jewelry. While I don’t have many questions about ice cream, per se, I’m happy to just ride along on his trips all over the US to learn more about it. He finds niche communities, game changers, and new technology I suspect most won’t be familiar with, and he finds ways to get involved, a lá giving someone a Jurassic Park tattoo or getting custom grills made for his teeth. Truthfully, I don’t care much about what Goldblum chooses to explore as long as he’s stammering and sing-song-ing his way through as only he can.

Double Feature – Historical Action Flicks: The Quick and the Dead (1995) + Troy (2004)

I told you last month I’m working on the Western genre, and The Quick and the Dead (Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 8/10) is a ‘90s entry from Sam Raimi featuring a rare female lead (Sharon Stone), the babiest of Leo DiCaprios, an evil Gene Hackman, and an epic tournament of duels. If you’d prefer your adventure several thousand years back, Troy (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 7/10) is a star-studded interpretation of The Iliad featuring a plethora of togas, romance, and epic battle scenes.

Double Feature – Corporate Espionage Thrillers: The Firm (1993) + Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit (2014)

Two unassuming guys start jobs bright-eyed and leave jaded, one a fresh-out-of-law-school attorney and the other a quit-school-to-save-the-world CIA analyst. The Firm (Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 9/10) is the critical winner of the pair, but Jack Ryan (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7/10) is a more satisfying action movie than its Rotten Tomatoes score would suggest. (Another example of why we should take those numbers with a grain of salt.) Bonus: Another evil Gene Hackman in The Firm!

Double Feature – New Crime Comedies: The Lovebirds + My Spy (2020)

For a family movie night in, I recommend My Spy on Amazon Prime (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 7/10), which holds the honor of the last movie I watched in theatres before everything shut down. For date night in, I recommend The Lovebirds (Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 7/10), which made me ready for Kumail Nanjiani to become a superstar. You can read my full thoughts on this fun pair of laughs on ZekeFilm:

The Lovebirds

My Spy

Double Feature – Heist Thrillers: Now You See Me (2013) + Finding Steve McQueen (2019)

Close up magic hasn’t been as cool as Now You See Me(Crowd: 10/10 // Critic: 8/10) since Houdini was escaping handcuffs. This, of course, has less to do with the magic shows and more to do with the Ocean’s Eleven/The Sting-style plot. I love a movie that pulls the wool over my eyes—Hollywood, this is your call to trick me more often! And who says “cool” like Steve McQueen? While I wouldn’t have minded another pass at the dialogue in Finding Steve McQueen (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 6.5/10), this based-on-a-true-story heist targeting President Nixon looks as cool as it is funny.

Double Feature – ‘80s Comedies: ¡Three Amigos! (1986) + Coming to America (1988)

The stars of early SNL & Friends make movies! Steve Martin, Martin Short, and Chevy Chase bring an alternative version of The Magnificent Seven with more jokes and fewer successful heroics, and I’m surprised at how most of it (save a few moments) has aged well. (Crowd: 9.5/10 // Critic: 7.5/10) And who knows when we’ll get the sequel Coming 2 America that Eddie Murphy and Arsenio Hall were going to star in this year, but the original sweet and silly romantic comedy about a Prince looking for love is worth revisiting so we’re ready whenever it drops. (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8/10)

Cinematic Cities: New York by Christian Blauvelt (2019)

I started this Turner Classic Movies book to prep for my first visit to New York City in March...well, we all know what happened there. Kudos to this writer and the book designers who helped me wrap my head around how the neighborhoods are connected in this city and where to find famous movie locales, plus a few off the beaten path. Now I have more places I want to see and taste and experience when I finally go, but until then, I’ve got a list of movies to watch so my vacation doesn’t feel so far away.

Summer Stock (1950)

The plot is hackneyed and the songs are hokey, but, gee, if I didn't spend the whole time wishing we had more movie stars like these clowns, Gene Kelly and Judy Garland. Twice I tried to wipe the smile off my face as Gene danced, and I just couldn't do it. The corners of my mouth twitched back up because a newspaper and squeaky floor were competing with Judy for his best dance partner! 70 years later this movie still won't let someone wipe a stupid grin off her face—three cheers for camera-magnetic movie stars! Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 6/10

Air Force One (1997)

Sure, it’s Die Hard on a plane, but when you nail the formula this well, I think you get more than a pass. Crowd: 9/10 // Critic: 6.5/10

June Critic Picks

The Sting (1973)

I jumped out of chronological order in my Best Picture watch because I liked Butch and Sundance so much. It’s an unusual winner, but it holds up well. Scroll down a bit for two reviews, or catch ‘em here:

Crowd

Critic

Double Feature - World War II Action Dramas: Saving Private Ryan (1998) + Enemy at the Gates (2001)

Watching this pair back-to-back makes for a poignant compare and contrast of how the United States and Russia managed their campaigns during World War II (at least as they’re depicted here). In Saving Private Ryan (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 10/10), Tom Hanks and Co. are trying to save one soldier just after D-Day; in Enemy at the Gates (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8.5/10), Jude Law is a legendary sniper trying to give hope to his comrades. Compare how both armies fight against all odds, and contrast how one life matters to each country.

Anna Karenina (2012)

Joe Wright reunites with much of his Pride and Prejudice cast, and it’s as magical and beautiful as you’d hope. Keira Knightley stars as the tragic heroine alongside a stacked cast including Domnhall Gleeson, Jude Law, Matthew Macfayden, Aaron Taylor-Johnson, and Alicia Vikander. Fun fact: I just learned my grandfather calls Knightley “his girlfriend” because he thinks she’s so cute in Pride and Prejudice—no word yet on what he thought of the gorgeous gowns she wore in this movie, but my podcast co-host Kyla and I loved them in our most recent episode. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 10/10

Double Feature – Humphrey Bogart: The Maltese Falcon (1941) + Key Largo (1948)

Plenty has been written about how The Maltese Falcon (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 9/10) is the epitome of Film Noir. Now that I’ve met Sam Spade and his femme fatale (Mary Astor) and watched their hunt for a McGuffin, I’ll just join in the chorus. And now that I’ve watched all of Bogie and Bacall’s features, I’m picking Dark Passage as my favorite and Key Largo (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8.5/10) my second. In their last film together, she’s a war widow and he was a soldier who knew her husband. When he comes to visit her at her hotel in Key Largo, they end up stuck inside during a hurricane with gangsters—tension ensues.

Da 5 Bloods (2020)

While Spike Lee’s latest was a little long, it’s hard to know what to cut when its updated take on The Treasure of the Sierra Madre is so engrossing. Between the performances, the action, and the treasure hunt plot, it’s the rare Netflix original in which you won’t be tempted to look at your phone. I’m hoping Delroy Lindo is in the Oscars conversation come next April. Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8.5/10

Long Gone Summer (2020)

The summer of ’98 was big for me: My sister was born, my family moved to a new house, and I turned six with a Mulan-themed party. (Yes, I was the height of cool.) It was also the summer Mark McGwire and Sammy Sosa faced off in a home run battle to beat Roger Maris’s regular season record, which even then I knew was a big deal. This ESPN 30 for 30 episode interviews McGwire, Sosa, and everybody in their orbit, but the real heart is the tribute it pays to St. Louis, Chicago, and baseball as a whole. I knew baseball films make me cry, and it turns out good baseball documentaries do, too.

Women In Music Pt. III by HAIM (2020)

The sisters are back with an album made for late-night driving with the windows down, and “I Know Alone” feels like a COVID anthem.

The Umbrellas of Cherbourg (1964)

If you loved La La Land like I did and haven’t seen this musical, just get around to watching it already! From the colorful aesthetic to the melancholy plot structure, you can literally see Damien Chazelle’s inspiration for his modern musical. And if you can find an answer as to why the Academy found this film worthy of consideration at not one but two Oscars ceremonies, let me know—I’ve yet to solve that mystery. Crowd: 7/10 // Critic: 9/10

Double Feature – Gregory La Cava Class Comedies: My Man Godfrey (1936) + 5th Avenue Girl (1939)

I don’t think I’ve watched a film from the 1930s that isn’t about money on some level, and these two from director Gregory La Cava are no exception. In Godfrey (Crowd: 8.5/10 // Critic: 8.5/10), Carole Lombard is a socialite who brings a homeless man in as their family’s new butler (William Powell), but there’s more to him than they know. in 5th Avenue (Crowd: 8/10 // Critic: 8/10), Ginger Rogers befriends a lonely businessman (Walter Connolly), and though their relationship is platonic, that doesn’t mean he won’t hire her to make his philandering wife jealous. The moral of both films? Rich people be crazy, which is a great set up for comedy.

Also in June…

In addition to Anna Karenina, Kyla and teased our self-made millionaire hair and introduced our butler Max to discuss the ‘80s rom-com procedural Hart to Hart. If you enjoy detective shows, it’s a fun spin on the genre you may enjoy.

I watched and reviewed Best Picture winners The Sting (above) and the worst one I’ve watched yet, 1933’s Cavalcade. Read the Crowd and Critic reviews to know why it’s not worth your time.

I updated my Letterboxd with a list of all the movies in Cinematic Cities: New York, and my quarantine watch list is almost to 250.

Photo credits: Yoga With Adriene, HAIM. Cinematic Cities my own. All others IMDb.com.

[greekceltic]

I doodled this last night for a small blurb I wrote between Jacky and Alf. I’m usually pinging several characters off of each other when I RP. Jacky and Alf were having a rough spell, so I typed up a thing for them to clean up my mess. It’s full of out of context RP references (obviously, Wreck it Ralph does not belong to me, we just use it to spice up our playground). The art is a bit off model? I really think it takes away from Big Alf to make him look too much like his smaller self. I need to add some of the cartoony-ness back to his face. If you're lookin' for RP, join us on discord: discord.gg/RFTe8eY Everyone hangs out in #general. ----- It was the same story, different day. Alf had gone looking for Jacky. He fell easily into his old habits, and took care in them, enjoyed them even. He was weak in resisting that kind of thing, but his motives had changed. He had a plan that amounted to more than just a fuzzy excuse to find something to do, and he was driven by it, as well as a belated admittance by one of Whisk's Crinkles that she had never gotten her truce letter. She didn't know, and that had to be fixed.  It took a little over a week to get his first clue. He made short trips to the terminal every afternoon. On the ninth day he found her scent trail at the Hero's Duty gate and took a hiatus from Jurassic Park to follow it back to the power line. From there it weaved in and out of many places. It took him to a suburban neighborhood down the road from Litwak's Family Fun Center, to a private desktop housing an installation of Guild Wars 2. The hunt would have become hopeless had she not grown overly fond of a snowy community near the starting area, where everyone was as tall, or taller than he was. He found that especially helpful for hiding, and especially confusing for just the same reason. It was like she wasn't watching for him at all.  He spent a full day and a half in local fashion, watching her do busy tasks. Coming and going from market-men to crafts benches, fully immersed in the game's culture. She passed his table many times. She even tripped on his foot and apologized- and never saw him.  He didn't understand. Alf made his move the same night. He bided his time until her inner craftsman was satisfied for the day, and followed her back to a quieter place. She gave him the ideal opportunity when she mosied into a backshed. Its windows were ice blocks and it had a single door. It was small enough that he could have stretched an arm from the front to back wall, and the door was tall but thin. Just half of his body filled it fully. She jumped when she turned, and he tried not to grin.  "Gotcha."  Jacky's face paled. She looked from his head, down to his feet, and saw no more room to wriggle through than a gerbil would find in a wire cage. Gotcha, alright.  "Alf?" He didn't like the way she said it. She didn't sound convinced. She tried to beat him to the breathing spaces between the sloping roof edges and the tops of the walls, but he snatched her down and held her out in a hand.  "EY-Ey! Ain't no need for that." Alf snapped, as softly as old habits would allow, then pointed an unfiled claw in her direction. "You're caught. Nothin' you can do about that. So just be still and listen."  Jacky stilled. There were things she could wriggle out of, but Alf's hand was not one of them. She looked up quizzically and then sagged. Her body language spoke volumes to him. Issac wasn't the only person he had a private language with. What, Alf?  "You shouldn't have taken my shit." Alf started. "You two pissed me off somethin' awful, and I'm not over it." Before she could be rattle back at him, his claw advanced toward her, and then descended to lift her arm by the palm, forcing an awkward hand shake. "That said, we're squared. I'm calling a truce." He waited for her to pick her jaw up off the floor, and then gently lowered her to the ground.  "You know what truce means?"  "Yeah."  "Then why you still makin' that face?"  "I don't understand." She gave him a bewildered look, then stepped back when he knelt at the doorway, even squinted a little. He didn't look like himself. He did, but he didn't. The scruff was new.  "I know you didn't do what they say you did." Alf explained, resting an elbow on his knee and resisting the urge to check over his shoulder for onlookers. He couldn't take his eyes off her, she'd be gone like a flash, truce or not, and he needed this done. "We found the real monster. Killed it, too." He raised a hand when she started to open her mouth. "But you did steal from a bunch of Familiars, and you know what they're like, so don't expect they'll get over it." Jacky returned with a knowing shrug. Que Sera, Sera.  "Does Beel know?" She ventured.  "No. You'll tell him." Alf was happy to leave that to Jacky. She was the priority. Beel seemed impervious to unhappiness and had an ocean of cropmates to get lost in. Jacky was the one that seemed to have gone a thousand miles from home to avoid him, and he took pride in that, he really did, but it was starting to feel like cheap pride. "You better find your dragon bitch friend and send her some reassurance. She was lookin' for you." Alf stood to leave, but stalled before unblocking the doorway. He knelt again, and leaned as if to whisper. It would have been easier had the door been wide enough to fit his snow-dusted shoulders.  "Hey, when you eat blue bread... how long until you're hungry again?" His face read uncertainty.  "Uh." Jacky leaned back, but not too far. "A while. I guess? I mea- Oooooh." Her face got distant. She suddenly knew why he was asking. "I had that thought too." The dark thought. The one about DYING. The one that had made her wonder if she wasn't hungry because she had actually kicked the bucket when she crossed between worlds. "I think it's the bread, cause it took a while for the hunger to go away but after a couple of weeks it... did?"  Alf breathed a sigh of relief.  "Okay." Another sigh. "Okay. Good." Not dead. He stalled again, then opened his mouth for slightly more important business. "I'm sorry." He said weakly. It was followed by a long silence. He evened out his voice for the rest. "You deserved some shit for taking my stuff, but you didn't deserve what you got over something you didn't do." He frowned, and flexed his claws in front of him. Apologies were a strange concept. He decidedly quickly that he didn't like them, but a few words had been repeating back to him.  Caught and dragged.  He didn't want to be that person.

 Jacky resisted the urge to slap her own face, surely she was dreaming, such sensibility would never come out of Alf's bear trap. She raised a hand and when everything else failed her, she plopped it on his head and scritched. That was revenge enough. This was a side of Alf that needed to be re-enforced. The appalled look on his face made it perfect.  "Good boy."

[metahuman-misadventures]

Cisco x Reader - Acrylic Aftermath

I’m sick of looking at this one, so it’s getting posted.  Now that this is out of the way, I can get back to that smut request that will be just as long, if not longer than this one.  

Description:  Reader is a meta that’s lost her powers and her brother, Cisco takes it upon himself to help her move on.

Timeline: Meh.  It's vague.  Just roll with it.  Season 2?  Post Season 3?   Mentions Harry, cause why not.

Rating: T-ish

Warnings: Angst, hurt, comfort, friendship

Notes: Because the idea of “Y/N” and “L/N” stuff takes me right out of a good story, I like to insert a random Reader name.  Today's Reader name is Kelly.  Feel free to copy/paste/replace with whatever name if you need.  I won't take offense.

Word Count: 3949

--

“Not home, don't care.”  With a mouthful of chocolate and a sigh you answered the phone and hit the speaker icon before setting it down on the armrest of your faded blue couch.  

There was a few seconds delay before Cisco's voice responded.  “Okay, A, I know you're home.  I'm looking at the GPS location for your tracker right now.  And 2, if you didn't care, you wouldn't have answered.”

With a wrinkle of your nose, you set down the spoon you were holding and poked at the spot in your forearm where the small microchip was implanted.  “How do you know I didn't carve it out, hmm?  I have plenty of sharp knives in the kitchen.  Maybe I just up and Jurassic World'd that bitch.”  

“Yeah, that's disgusting.  And you're the one who suggested I put it there, what with the blackouts... and stuff...” his voice trailed off, like he was suddenly sorry for bringing it up.

“I was having a mid-life crisis.  You shouldn't have listened to anything I was saying.”

“You're 25.”

“Yeah well, the average lifespan for this little team is getting shorter every year.”  There was silence on the other end and you closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the couch, instantly regretting your words.  “Too soon?”  You asked, but didn't bother waiting for a reply.  You laughed bitterly and then had to bite your tongue before it could turn into a sob.  

“Y'know...Maybe I should come over?”  Cisco didn't acknowledge the question, which was probably for the best. “We can watch The Goonies, eat some junk food, paint each others nails... Just like old times?”

You idly glanced at the worn down, chewed-up remnants of your fingernails and felt the start of all the emotions you'd been pushing down the last few months threaten to well up again.  Back before 'that day' happened, as you called it in your head, you'd always kept your nails looking gorgeous.  New acrylics every few weeks, fancy polishes, glittery tips, sometimes the occasional nail art.  

Then your brother had died and you'd stopped caring.  The acrylics you hadn't already painfully picked at on the days leading up to the funeral had finally all fallen off, and after that, you'd started biting your natural nails down to the quick, a habit leftover from your childhood.

It had been almost four months since you and the rest of Team Flash had buried him, and you'd tried to move on.   To say it was 'difficult' was an understatement.  And everyone had said they understood and they had felt the pain of loss before... they'd do what they could to help you get through it... blah blah blah.

But they didn't understand.  No one did.  When you lost your older brother, you lost part of yourself... literally.  The night S.T.A.R. Labs nearly exploded was the night you and Keith had become bonded with dark matter; it created a link between you... and not just thoughts and emotions.  The Entity you could form, merging two bodies into one; becoming a being more powerful, stronger and faster than a normal human.

You'd only been working with the Flash for a few months when 'that day' happened.  A telekinetic blast from a raging metahuman had caused you to lose concentration and you and Keith were torn apart, your bodies flying in opposite directions.  You'd landed on soft grass with barely a scratch.  Your brother...

Closing your eyes once again you could still see his body hanging from the crumbling concrete, the jagged edges of two pieces of rebar slick with his blood.  Some nights you still woke up screaming, the feeling of the phantom steel piercing your heart.  You had felt his life force draining away and with a guttural scream you'd flung yourself toward him, already well aware that you wouldn't reach him in time to reform.  

The physical body the two of you became was strong enough to return from near death, and if you could have just gotten to him in time...

But you were mere seconds too late, and your fingers had grasped at dead flesh.  You'd tried to be angry at Barry for not seeing what was happening until too late.  You'd also tried to be angry at Cisco for not opening a breach that would have gotten you there faster.  But down deep in your shattered heart, you knew that the only one you could truly be angry at was the meta now sitting in the secure wing of Iron Heights.

After the fight, someone had pried you away from Keith's body, you weren't sure who and it didn't seem important to ask after the fact.  Your mind was blanking out, almost like a glitch.  You could remember flashes of memory, a few seconds here and there, like someone was turning a light switch on and off in your head at random intervals.  

It took a full day for you to come back to yourself for any real length of time.  They told you it was like your body was on auto pilot in those blank spaces.  Without someone to watch and guide you, you would just wander aimlessly, vacant eyes looking at nothing and not responding to touch or sound.  Caitlin had run the tests and while you didn't really understand the complexities, you knew there was something very wrong with your brain.  It was just... shutting down randomly.  Losing the link to your brother so viciously had ripped out some essential parts that were needed to keep it running smoothly.  

By the grace of god, you were lucid enough to remember bits of Keith's funeral, though Cisco had taken it upon himself to make all the arrangements.  You didn't have any other family you were close to; Keith was it.  So there hadn't really been too much that needed to be taken care of.

They buried Keith in a small cemetery on the north side, next to your parents.  Someone said a few words, someone placed some flowers on the casket...  someone must have driven you home.  It was all a blur.

Without Keith, there was no Entity.  You had no power.  You didn't even have the brains to be helpful.  At least Keith had been studying biometric engineering.  At 17, you'd dropped out of high school three months before the rest of your class would graduate and started working as a server in a cafe; the only job you'd ever known.  And now you couldn't even do that.  And so, Cisco had placed the tracker in your arm, and then outfitted your home with some sort of scanner that wouldn't open the door to let you out without an eye scan and verbal command.  It kept you from wandering.  

The implant would also alert Cisco's phone when your heart rate and blood pressure dipped, signaling that you had slipped into a blackout, just in case you weren't at home and needed someone to come find you.  It had been happening less often, but still enough to be a problem. Less than three times a week if you were lucky; and on a good day you'd only blackout for a half-hour or so.  Good days were few and far between.  Driving was out of the question, as was holding down any sort of job.  Most days you spent at home, keeping yourself busy with old hobbies...  a hundred sub-par paintings hidden in the basement... boxes of half-knit sweaters and scarves.  Your brother's room was filled with hundreds of mini origami cranes... he'd always thought they were neat so you left a few in there every day.  

Everyone had tried to convince you to stick around S.T.A.R. Labs more often. They said they could find something to keep you busy, but you knew that it was more that the team wanted to keep you where they could see you.  You understood, they were your friends, the only ones you had left.  But every time you walked in the Cortex, all you could see was the empty spot by your side where your brother should have been.

So you stayed at home, roaming the halls that used to be filled with the voices of your mother, your father, and Keith; a different but more familiar form of emotional torture.  Delivery services brought you groceries and Cisco or Barry checked in on you when the blackouts started.  Occasionally Harry or Caitlin would stop by when the boys were busy, and you were gracious and courteous and the perfect host. You smiled at the right moments, told them you were doing okay, and let them give you awkward hugs when they left.

All of them could see through the facade.  You knew it, they knew you knew it...

“Hey... are you spacing again?”

“What?” You heard his words and realized that yes, you had been.  The worn down nubs of your fingernails were still staring back at you. “No, I'm fine.”

“Riiiight. I'm on my way.”

“Don't, Cisco.  Please.”  But he wasn't listening.  

“Too late.”  

The slight rush of air from the breach opening behind the couch caused your hair to float listlessly around your face and you sighed in annoyance, leaning over to hang up the call.  Not bothering to turn around and look at the portal, you reached over and picked up the bowl and spoon from where you'd set them down on the coffee table.

The blue glow that had briefly lit up your living room suddenly cut off and you knew Cisco was standing behind you.  “Isn't there some sort of superhero code against using your powers when it's not an emergency?” You questioned, dipping the spoon into your bowl and taking a large bite.

“Uh, have you MET Barry?  Using his powers when it's not an emergency is pretty much all he does.”  

You sat back and let your head fall against the top of the cushion, stretching your neck back until you could see Cisco looking down at you from behind the couch, his head tilted in concern.  “Hey.” You sullenly greeted him, resigning yourself to his company. Sighing, you closed your eyes.  “You really didn't need to come.”

“Well, you've ignored the invites for the last five movie nights, and you weren't returning anyone else's texts... and the whole spacing out again.”

“I'm fine.” Opening your eyes again, you watched as Cisco made his way around the couch to flop down next to you.

“Besides,” he continued, “I think this qualifies as an emergency.  You're sitting alone in your underwear listening to Sarah McLachlan at five in the afternoon eating... is that a bowl of brownie batter?”

“Triple Fudge, yeah.  You don't like me using the oven, remember?”  You looked down at your bare legs and wrinkled your nose in annoyance. “And, I'm wearing a tank top.”

He looked you over with skeptical eye and shook his head.  “Barely. Girl, you're about half an inch away from a nip slip.”  Cisco gestured with his eyes down at the strap of the light pink tank that had been sliding dangerously low off your shoulder for the better part of an hour.  “It's a good thing I've already seen you naked, otherwise I'd think you were trying to turn me on right now.”

“I was on fire that time. I had to get my clothes off.”  The memory brought a small smile to your face, but it was brief and bittersweet.

He was still looking at you, eyes running up and down your mostly unclothed body, but there was nothing suggestive in his gaze.  “You haven't been eating, again.”  It wasn't a question.  Cisco sighed and rubbed the side of his face.  

You held up the bowl of brownie batter in answer and took another bite.

“You can't keep this up, it's not healthy.”

“Says the guy who survives on burgers, soda and hard candy.”  

“Kelly...”

You hated it when he got that tone in his voice... the I-care-about-you-and-I'm-really-freaking-worried-about-you tone.  It made you squirm uncomfortably.  “I don't mean to... you know that, Cisco.  I just... forget.”

With the loss of your brother's consciousness, you'd also oddly lost some of your ability to feel physical pain.  Things still hurt... just not as much.  And you weren't really able to tell when you were hungry anymore.  Even with Cisco texting you to remember to eat a few times a day... you forgot.

“This is why you need to be back at S.T.A.R. Labs.  I can take care of you there.”  The two of you had had this conversation so many times, you'd almost memorized it.  But this time there was one subtle difference that you almost didn't catch.  I can take care of you there.   Not 'we'.  Not 'the team'.  I. He continued on, trying to lighten the mood.  “I mean... I suppose I could move most of the Cortex's systems here if I had to...”  He made a show of looking around your mother's beach cottage inspired living room; usually a bright and cheery room, but now dark and drab with the curtains all drawn and the lights off.  “All the wires and electronics might not quite go with the décor... but I can make it work.”   He gave you a smile that at one time had made your heart flutter, but now seemed only heartbreaking.    

“I'm not your responsibility, and I don't need you to be my savior.” You frowned and turned your face from his.  Refused to meet his eyes. Why couldn't he just leave you alone?  “Besides, I'd just distract you from the important things.”

“You don't think you're important?”  He almost sounded offended and you swallowed back a sarcastic response.  You were clutching the spoon and bowl tightly still, and you almost thought he would have reached to hold your hands if not for that small simple barrier.  

“Not anymore.” Your words were quiet... strained, and your jaw was starting to clench and tighten as you continued to fight back the emotions.

There had been a time... a moment between you and Cisco before Keith died...  The night before 'that day', a Team Flash movie night, when you'd sat with him on Barry's couch, one glass of wine too many, and you'd giggled and laid your head in his lap when sitting upright had seemed like just too much effort.

He'd placed a hand awkwardly on your shoulder, then eventually stroked your hair as the night wore on.  You didn't remember what the movie was anymore.  When everyone else had called it a night, Cisco had taken you home and grinned like a schoolboy when he walked you to the front door.  You'd said goodnight and thanked him for the ride... and then he'd grabbed your hand and bitten his lip.  You'd looked at him curiously, but he couldn't quite meet your eyes.

“Can I kiss you?”  The words had tumbled out of his mouth so quickly you almost didn't catch them. Certainly, you hadn't heard him right.  You weren't sure how he could stand there and look so nervous in his Star Wars t-shirt and faded gray hoodie, and yet seem so wildly confident.  

You'd stood there, utterly shocked.  It would be a lie to say you'd never thought about kissing him.. he was sweet and nerdy and funny... but way out of your league.  He and your brother could talk for hours, going on and on about sciencey things way above your head... you were a glorified waitress for god's sake, not to mention a high-school dropout.

“I know, I'm not really your type.” He'd continued, trying to look anywhere but right at you, probably afraid of your answer. “But I thought maybe-”

You'd cut him off with a kiss, perhaps a bit sloppy, but you were giggling against his mouth and then you knew he was smiling too.  It wasn't the passionate embrace of a Nicholas Sparks romance, but you could feel something there.  Something that was definitely worth exploring. When you finally pulled away from each other, you were blushing and laughing and everything seemed so perfect all of a sudden.  Another small kiss, and he had bid you goodnight with a brilliant smile.  

The next time he saw you, you were screaming and clutching Keith's corpse.

The two of you never talked about that kiss.  It was like it had never happened...  and maybe it hadn't.  There were a lot of things you weren't sure about anymore and perhaps it was just some happy hallucination your mind had come up with to fill one of your memory gaps.  Better to pretend that was it than think about the truth.

“Not anymore?!  How can you even say that?”  Cisco was nearly beside himself, gesturing randomly with one hand.  “You're important to me, to all of us.”   He pushed himself off the couch and started pacing trying to keep his voice calm. “When you lost your powers, you didn't stop being our friend, Kelly.”

You dropped the spoon into the chipped orange bowl and reached up to wipe away the start of a tear.  “I can't do anything, Cisco.  I'm just..  I'm useless.”

“You're not usel-”

“I AM!” Slamming the bowl down so hard on the glass that a spiderweb crack suddenly marred the otherwise pristine surface of your mother's cherished antique coffee table, you pulled yourself up from the sofa and turned away from him so he wouldn't see the tears.  You could feel it starting to bubble up.  The despair and pain, the feeling of hopelessness.  “I've lost everything!  I lost Keith, I lost our powers!    I'm not strong or fast or smart!”  You lashed out and knocked over a vase filled with long-dead flowers, a frustrated groan escaping your lips when there was no satisfying crash as it thudded to the hardwood but didn't break.  “I can't even leave the house without worrying I might not make it back by myself!  I don't know why you're wasting your time on me!”

“Kelly, stop.”  A hand touched your shoulder and you shrugged it off angrily.  

You ignored the pleading in his voice and stalked toward the kitchen, tears blurring your vision so much that you nearly ran into the door frame.  With a anguished cry you stopped, turning to brace yourself with both hands on the counter top.  The wetness falling from your eyes seemed to grow and it wasn't long before you found you didn't actually have the strength to hold yourself up.  How long had it been since you'd slept?  You didn't remember.  A day or two.  One more thing you didn't keep very well track of.  With a sob you started to slide to the floor, not surprised when Cisco caught you from behind and gently helped you down.  The old sea green linoleum was cold on your bare legs but finding the strength to care was proving difficult.  

Without saying a word, he carefully sat down next to you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in tight.  Absolutely sure that you looked like a blubbering idiot, you clung to him and buried your face against his shoulder, trying to stop the hiccuping sobs that racked your body.  You hadn't had a good honest-to-god breakdown since the day of Keith's funeral and it seemed like this one was overdue.  Vaguely aware of him starting to whisper soft soothing words and the feel of his hands, one holding your arm, the other wiping away the trails of your tears, you continued to clutch at him, suddenly starved for the feel of another body close to yours.

Time trickled by, and you didn't know how long you'd been on the kitchen floor when the tears finally stopped.  Even after, when your head was still on his shoulder and your breathing evened out, he still just held you, murmuring gentle things against your forehead.

“Cisco?” When you were finally able to speak again, you weren't quite sure what to say.

“Yes, chica?”

“You know I hate it when you call me a chicken.”  The words left your mouth before you even had time to think about it, and you let out a strangled laugh at the end and tightened the grip on his shirt.  It was an old joke between the two of you, one that had evolved out of a slightly embarrassing misunderstanding.  Suffice to say, Spanish was not one of your strong suits.  “Sorry.” You whispered quickly and closed your eyes, your cheeks flushing softly.  

You could hear the smile in his voice though. “Don't be.  I missed that.”  He pressed a gentle kiss to the hair just above your ear and then gently bumped his forehead against yours.  It didn't seem like it was possible to snuggle any closer to him, but you tried to anyway.  The warmth radiating off of him was almost euphoric; it had been so long since you'd let anyone truly hold you for any length of time.

“I know you think you'd be a distraction... but it's worse not having you there.”  His words were soft and you sighed heavily, not ready to start this conversation yet again.  But you didn't have the energy to move, and if it wasn't now, then Cisco would only bring it up again later.

“But if I was there-”

“If you were there,” Cisco reached up with one hand and tucked a stray length of hair behind your ear. “I wouldn't be worried about you for every second of every day.”  The soft plink plink of your perpetually dripping faucet echoed through the otherwise silent kitchen as you tried to form a response, and he must have taken it as an encouraging sign when you didn't immediately argue with him this time.  “Look.... just think about it, please.  And I mean really, truly, honestly think about it.  We can start small.  Like... one day a week.  I'll order pizzas, we can play World of Warcraft when Harry's not in the room.  Besides, I seriously need my pocket healer back.”  He squeezed you a little tighter.  “You would not believe the randoms I've gotten stuck with lately.”  

Plucking at a stray piece of fuzz on the front of his t-shirt, you sighed and crinkled your nose in thought.  “Just one day a week?”  This morning you wouldn't have considered it.  But now, sitting here in Cisco's arms, having found a badly needed emotional release, you thought that maybe.... just maybe... you could try.  

“Just one day, little chicken.”

“Okay.” You whispered, trying not to immediately regret it.  

“Great, I'll pick you up tomorrow morning at 8.”

“Tomorrow?” He didn't miss the nervous stutter in your voice.

“Yep. I would recommend wearing some pants.”  You pulled away enough to glare up at him, but found it was really hard to be mad at that wonderfully mischievous smile on his face.  “Or not.  I don't mind either way.”

“Y'know I don't have to heal your sorry ass.  I can just let you die.”  You forced the words out, trying for playful, but knowing that it just didn't quite hit the mark yet.  It would be awhile, you knew, before things felt right again... but dammit you were going to try.  You would try for him.  

He laughed anyway and for the first time since 'that day' a flash of hope found it's way into your heart; and you thought maybe... maybe someday you would be okay again.

fini?

I may or may not continue this one eventually... I've kind of fallen in love with this Reader/OC.  And now I want to see her and Cisco actually get together.  What do you guys think?   Anyone out there?  

[fancykraken]

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 fics (or however many you have altogether) see if there are any patterns. Then, tag some of your fav authors.

I was tagged by @skochius <3

Oh god, do I even have 20 fics? XD Oh well. I’m going to steal @skochius ‘s idea and group them by pairing. I’m not a great writer, so I’m sure a lot of my opening lines are not what they should be compared to more talented and professional writers.

Frostiron:

Two young men lay sprawled on the hood of a near mint 1970 Chevy Chevelle LS6 gazing up at the night sky. The stars shone brightly out here, the nearest town was at least an hour away and the light pollution minimal. Perfect for those who wanted to lose themselves gazing at the inky darkness above and to just lose themselves in general.

Tony sighs, resting the back of his head against the windshield of his father’s car.

My car now, he reminds himself.

- Kingdom of Stars

There was nothing remarkably special about October to Tony. Of course, as a small child he had dressed up, gone to parties, and Jarvis and his wife Ana took him trick or treating. But as he grew older, the magic started to wear off. Parties became more adult, more of an obligation. Other children his age were few and far between at this time, and those that did attend were there because their presence too was required at parties that they had no interest in.

- Stark-O’-Lantern

Coney Island was buzzing with native New Yorkers and tourists this late summer evening. Everyone was enjoying the rides and food at the amusement park on the Island.

Well, at least almost everyone.

- Date Night, Frostiron and StarAccuser

Tony Stark was an idiot. Or at least that’s what he has been telling himself for the past two weeks since his unfortunate encounter with a very alluring, yet deadly woman at a global energy conference in Berlin. Deadly being the keyword to all of this.

Now he was in his Malibu home sitting across from one of the most gorgeous women he had ever laid eyes on. Part of him was a little disappointed that this was all just business and not pleasure.

- How Do You Like Me Now?

Tony glanced nervously at the god lounging elegantly at the opposite end of the couch. Loki looked every bit a royal; long slender legs crossed at the knee, back straight, hands folded nicely in his lap, and head held high. If someone saw Loki now they would assume he was in the middle of some important meeting or calmly discussing plans for world domination.  This wasn’t the case, however, this was just him relaxing and watching a movie. If Loki was the picture of relaxed elegance, then Tony was the picture of relaxed chaos; legs sprawled out, body leaning back against the cushions, one arm draped over the armrest and the other flung over the back of the couch. 

- Jurassic Stark

“Sir, may I recommend that you use the manual releases while disengaging from the suit? My scans indicate that the metal plate embedded in your thigh is dangerously close to your femoral artery. If the automated release and their components move it several millimeters to the—“

“Okay, okay, I got it, J!” Tony gritted his teeth against the pain. “Disengage all automatic release.”

“A wise decision, sir. Shall I call an ambulance to take you to a hospital?”

- Boredom and Mischief Don’t Mix

The end of Tony Stark’s life as he knew it began with a kiss. A simple thing really in the grand scheme of things, but nothing was simple when it came to Tony. He had to have everything bigger, better, more complex and grandiose. So it really shouldn’t have been as much as a shock to him when he and Loki first expressed their desire for one another so long ago in the cell Loki was being imprisoned in deep in the heart of Asgard’s dungeons.

After that things just started going downhill, even though it didn’t seem that way at first.

- Another Year Older

Tony slowly knelt down on the floor, eyes fixed on Loki's. The god stretched out a hand and cupped Tony's cheek, gently caressing his cool skin. Tony leaned into that touch, sighing contentedly at the feeling of power throbbing underneath those fingers.

- Blood of a God

"L-Loki... FUCK!" Tony panted, fisting his hands in the bed sheets. He couldn't move his hands; invisible ropes that Loki had conjured earlier when he pinned Tony down on the bed immobilized them. Tony was still undecided if he wanted to murder him or kiss him for it. He cracked open an eye as he felt Loki's warm and wet mouth leave his aching, hard cock.

- Sex and Magic

The sound of glass breaking on hard tile triggered some inner alarm and woke Loki from his uneasy sleep. Cracking open an eye he surveyed the bedroom and found nothing of danger waiting for him. Relaxing his body, he starts to drift off again.

“Shit!”

His eyes snap open, green irises flashing brightly for a moment in the darkness. His lip curls in a slight smirk; Stark must be home.

- Battle Damaged (the first fic I wrote after over 10 years of not writing anything. Needs a complete an utter rewrite.)

Thorki:

It started when they were young boys; Thor no more than sixteen and Loki fourteen by Midgard standards. Loki, having enough of the other Aesir boy’s jests during weapons training, managed to steal away and come back to the suite of rooms he and Thor shared. He had every expectation of being alone; content to just study the dusty, old tomes that contained spell after spell. As he undressed from his dirty training gear he thought he heard a low groan coming from the private bath chamber that Thor and he shared.

- Four Years

Loki arched his back like the beautiful curve of Robert Downey Jr’s ass…

The lack of playtime in Asgard was oppressing the Thunder God. He was in a bad mood and needed his brother, but his brother was in face deep in a book in the library. Thor didn’t like books because books were dumb. Thor liked to read scrolls better which made Thor really smart even if people thought he was a dumb blond.

- Really Horribly Written Thorki Fic (total crack)

StarAccuser:

Faint light filtered in through the tattered curtains casting hazy patterns and shapes over the Kree's cobalt blue skin. Peter had been awake for nearly an hour now and intended to go right back to sleep, but the sight of Ronan lying peacefully on his back, face relaxed in sleep, kept Peter from his rest.

- Dawn

Smoke was still rising from the wreckage of Peter and Ronan's ship that was shot down hours ago by Skrulls. Ronan studied the wreck hoping that it would still fly, even if a short distance so that he and Peter could get off this moon the Skrulls occupied as a supply outpost. Correction: had occupied. The Kree had seen to it that the Skrulls were no longer in possession of this moon. Ronan, Peter, and the rest of the Guardians had unintentionally been caught up in the fight.

- A Silly Little Thing Called Fear

Christmas, 1985

“Peter. Peter, hand mama that ornament. No, the blue one,” Meredith Quill said, smiling down at her son who was playing with his transformers on the floor next to the half decorated Christmas tree. He picked up the sparkly blue ornament with snowflakes and stars on it, handing it to his mother. She hooked it on the branch in front of her and smiled.

- Guardian of the Christmas Tree, StarAccuser and Murder Girls

Tom Hiddleston/Reader:

“Lie back, darling,” Tom croons softly in your ear.

You do so without hesitation, resting your shoulders and head on the multiple pillows piled at the top of the bed.

Shifting his body, Tom positions himself between your legs, but not low enough for that sinfully gorgeous and deliciously tasting mouth to be where you desperately want it.

- Talk Dirty To Me

Chris Evans/Reader:

The safeword ritual had taken place, even if it over the phone, the scene would start the moment he stepped through the front door. You didn’t want any distractions from what was about to happen. Your pulse was racing and you stood frozen in place as he entered the room and quietly shut the door. Dressed in his red Henley shirt and dress pants, he stands there, not moving, just taking in every inch of you with those gorgeous blue eyes that were filled with nothing but domination. His face was face set in a hard mask of control. Your clit throbbed in anticipation and you could feel yourself become wetter by the second.

- Punishment and Reward

Gen:

The clicking of high heels echoed through the entryway as Pepper Potts determinedly made her way to the elevator. Tony was quick to follow.

“Pepper… Pepper, please, don’t do this!” Tony begged, trying to sound as pathetic as possible. “Please, don’t leave.”

Pressing the button to summon the elevator, Pepper turned to face Tony, her best friend, former boss, and former lover. “Tony we discussed this. In order for the company to really cement itself as the leading cause of clean energy and friend to the environment, we have to take every step necessary. And one of those steps is to become completely paperless.”

- Paperwork

I tag anyone who wants to do this (sorry I know it’s kinda cop out but so many of you write such amazing stuff that I cannot just choose a few)

[winterda]

Title: Here Are Lions Rated: PG-13 Summary:

“This doesn't look like Los Angeles,” Amaya said.  “Unless things have changed drastically since the last time we were in the future – present – whatever.”

“Blondie hit it on the head earlier,” Mick replied.  “We interacted with future versions of ourselves.  Time Lines aren't exactly thrilled over that sort of thing.”

Landing next to Sara, Jax asked, “So we literally broke time?”

Mick shrugged. “Don't know, but if Gideon wasn't having a major malfunction when she told us we were in LA in 2017, it looks like Time took a hit to the face with a two-by-four.”

AN: I already posted this on AO3, but I thought I’d put this up on here for anyone who was maybe wanted to read it. 

---------

Chapter 1

This place felt dead.  Not filled with death like 1916.  Not dying like a few possible futures they had seen.  Just dead.

It was something Sara knew herself to be an expert in.

There was life here.  Those dinosaurs that were nudging around the front of the Waverider were proof of that.  It never occurred to her that they might be the only forms of life here until after she had barked orders at the team to go contain them.  They were in the middle of LA according to Gideon, and she had seen Jurassic Park 2 enough as a child to know why that wasn't a good thing.  T-Rex were big, dangerous, and base creatures – but so was Mick, so it didn't take them long to have the situation under control.

That was when she noticed.  The way the wind whistled between buildings that never existed in LA and brought traces of smoke from the structure that they had so unceremoniously knocked over like an older siblings knocks over their younger siblings' block tower.  The smell of the ocean with no hint of smog or overpriced coffee or various bodily functions.  The way Mick huffed next to her and Firestorm crackled and Ray's powered down.  

The way there was nothing else.

“Where is everyone?” Jax asked.  “I mean, I get no one wanting to tangle with dinos, but you'd think someone would come and see what crash-landed in the middle of the city.”

He paused in that way he did when Stein was speaking to him and gave a short nod.

“Grey agrees.  Says the cops should at least show up.”

“I don't like this,” Mick growled and eye the surrounding buildings.

Sara couldn't stop herself from doing a quick scan as well.  A windows rattled a little in the wind but nothing otherwise.

“Gideon,” she said a little sharply into her earpiece.

Silence was her only answer.  

Hoping that perhaps Gideon was just being a little overly sensitive, she asked, “Gideon?”

Again, there was nothing.

“Well,” Ray said after a moment, “that's never a good sign.”

“But Gideon was working earlier,” Jax interjected.  “She said we were in Los Angeles in 2017.”

“That was before we crashed,” Sara replied.  

“And we didn't exactly ask a lot of questions before running out to face the tyrannosaurus,” Nate added helpfully.

Sara was honest enough with herself to acknowledge that it was her own fault.  Even if they were worried about what was happening outside, she should have checked on Gideon before rushing out, if for no other reason than to make sure that Gideon was still operational.  It was a rookie mistake; one she knew that Rip would have never made.

Maybe there was more he needed to teach her.

“This doesn't look like Los Angeles,” Amaya said.  “Unless things have changed drastically since the last time we were in the future – present – whatever.”

“Blondie hit it on the head earlier,” Mick replied.  “We interacted with future versions of ourselves.  Time Lines aren't exactly thrilled over that sort of thing.”

Landing next to Sara, Jax asked, “So we literally broke time?”

Mick shrugged. “Don't know, but if Gideon wasn't having a major malfunction when she told us we were in LA in 2017, it looks like Time took a hit to the face with a two-by-four.”

Off in the distance, a clock tower that resembled Big Ben began to chime.  The old fashion sound echoed down the street and filled up every empty space.  After the thirteenth and final strike, the silence stretched taunt around them.

“We need to find out what's going on,” Sara said.  “Jax, you and Stein go try to figure out what's wrong with Gideon.”

“Right,” Firestorm said with a quick nod.  They separated into their two halves and headed back into the ship.  Sara barely paid any attention to them before barking out her next orders.

“Ray, take a quick look around from the sky then come back here.  You're our dinosaur expert, and we're going to need you near by in case the Dinos have some friends we don't know about.”  

“Got it,” Ray replied and took to the sky once more.

Sara followed him until he rounded a building a few streets down before she added to Nate, “Stay here.  With Gideon out of commission, we need to make sure that nothing comes up onto the ship before Ray gets back.  Then grab Stein and see if you can find anything out about this place.  The rest of us will go take a look around.”

Nate shifted uncomfortably like Bobby Durston from next door used to do whenever she told him to turn off the TV and go do his homework.  Nate's eyes shifted over to Mick and Amaya as they were walking away, and Sara could tell an argument was already forming on his lips.  

They didn't have time for dissent.  That dead feeling was pressing down upon her more and more, and it was causing her instincts to sharpen and growl in anticipation.  For what exactly, she didn't know, but she did know that they couldn't stay here.  Something had to be done soon, and that wasn't going to happen if they didn't work together.  Those issues they'd had with Mick didn't magically go away (and Sara wasn't sure if a little bit of jealousy might not be playing a little with Nate), but that was all things that could be dealt with after they put this decaying bubble behind them.  

“There a problem, Nate?” she asked.  

For all her training, Sara still wasn't very good at hiding her annoyance – from her teammate especially.  Again, Nate did that awkward shifting, but the fight withered away under her glare.  He coughed and mumbled a quick and quiet, “No.”

Sara didn't bother with answer of her own.  She just turned and headed after Mick and Amaya.  

--------------------------------

When the group of strangers began to disperse, he rocked back and began to bounce lightly on his heels.  The rolling office chair he'd been leaning against didn't glide across the tight carpet that well anymore after who knew how long of disuse, but still threatened to dump on his butt if he doesn't cool it. (Cool it.  Ha.  He'd have to remember that one for later.)

From the 52nd floor of Wayne Tower, they all look pretty small – even that busted up ship of theirs didn't look all that impressive from this high up – but he knew better than to think that mattered all that much.  Heck, he just watched them take on that group of dinosaurs that been running around the “downtown” (because who could really keep up with how things liked to change around here) area for the past few weeks.  Not that they couldn't handle them.  If they had wanted, they would have dealt with them way faster than these guys.  However, they had had more pressing things to worry about.  

Point was, he didn't know where these guys landed on the potential goods guys or bad guys lists.  They could be friends.  They could be foes.  You never know that kind of thing when people dropped in what they'd be.  With how big the multiverse was, he couldn't even work off his own knowledge so it was hard to tell where this group fell.  

Though, admittedly, a bunch of bad guys probably wouldn't have bothered getting rid of those tyrannosaurus.  Maybe making them into some sort of pet.  That seemed more like something a villain would do.  Right?

Anyway, news guys, he wasn't really sure about.  That ship of theirs, though.  

Yeah, it was feeling the mode at the moment, but he'd gotten a pretty good look at it before they all came running out to battle the evil dinos.  From what he'd seen, that thing could be really useful.  That tech was way beyond him, and so far he'd been the most knowledge about that sort of stuff (okay, second most, but that just wasn't a fair comparison).  If they could get it, it might be just what they need to get off this totally crazy ride.

That meant that they wouldn't be the only ones interested in it.  

A full body shiver raced down him at the thought.  All options on that was just...bad.  Bad beyond the telling of it.  

So it was decision time.  Wait and spy like he was supposed too, or interfere and hope for the best.

Well, if was any good at doing what he was supposed to, he wouldn't be here, would he?

---------------------

They were four blocks from the Waverider when they came upon an outdoor cafe on the edge of a park that Sara knew for a fact did not exist in Los Angeles.  At least no Los Angeles she had ever visited before.  Trees that were wrong from the Californian climate were thriving just beyond the grass line, which morphed the park into more of a dark forest that could have been taken right out of at least seven different fairy tales that she could think of off the top of her head.  The leaves swayed gently in the wind and twisted the darkness into strange shadows that seemed to beckon them closer.

They stopped at the cafe.  Like the abandoned cars and empty buildings they had passed on the way there, there was no living creatures aside from themselves around, but everything was set up as if there were.  Several of the tables had meals on them that were in various states of being consumed.  Sara walked over to one.  A half-a-cup of coffee and a nearly-finished blueberry muffin stared up at her.  She turned the cup like she would her own during breakfast and thought about the blackberry muffin she had had that morning.

Mick was inspecting another table, one that had an untouched sandwich on it, while Amaya looked more around the surrounding area and park.

“This is just creepy,” Amaya said.  “It's bad enough that there's no people.  But no birds?  No animals?”

“There were the dinosaurs,” Mick offered as he picked up the sandwich and gave it a sniff.

Acting as if she had not heard him, Amaya added, “No bugs?  What is this place?”

“No where I think we want to stay too long,” Sara said as Mick stuffed half the sandwich into his mouth.  Scrunching her nose, she turned away while Amaya looked pointedly away.

Raising an eyebrow, Mick asked, “Wha'?  I'm hungry.”

Several low, guttural sounding chirps came from the open door of the cafe.  It wasn't familiar or something that Sara could say that she really heard before, but she suddenly had the feeling that she sometimes got late at night back on Lian Yu when she was sure that some animal was watching her just beyond her line of vision.  Whatever it was, it was too small to be a T-Rex, but that didn't mean that it wasn't as dangerous as one.  Maybe even more so, if those stupid movies were to be believed.  Between the three of them, they could take it if it was the only one; but Sara knew how this day was going thus far and really didn't feel like chancing fate again.

As the chirping continued, she took a chance and took her eyes off the entrance long enough to try and catch her teammates eyes.  Mick had dropped the sandwich and had his weapon pointed at the entrance before the chirping had even stopped, and Amaya's tense shoulders and planted feet warned of her readiness to fight.  Sara gripped her staff but subtly nodded her head back towards the way they came.  

Amaya gave her own nod in response and took a few steps back immediately.  Whatever it was, she didn't want to tangle with it either.

Mick pressed his lips into a deep frown and stayed where he was for a few heartbeats too long, but eventually also began to move back as well.  An abrupt hiss between her teeth was the only warning Sara was able to give him before his left leg kicked right into a metal chair.  It scrapped harshly against the concrete before banging into the matching metal table, which caused all the plates and cups on it to rattle.  

The three of them froze as the chirping stopped, and the tense world threatened to snap.  The click of something tapping against a polished floor then echoed out to them just before a long snout with sharp teeth.  It snorted as it stepped out of the cafe and turned its harsh gave towards them.  It was more birdlike than the movies depicted it as, but Sara recognized the creature that haunted her dreams for years after that night her dad had been in charge of movie night and had wanted to watch that new Spielberg movie about the dinosaurs.  (She and Laurel had shared a bed for a week afterward, and Dad had been bared from choosing the movie.)  

A T-Rex was one thing.  Velociraptors were something else.

It considered them for a moment – tilting its head from side to side as if it couldn't really decide what to make of them.  As it did so, Sara slowly reached up and activate her coms.

“Ray,” she said, “we've got a problem.”

She could hear the wind cutting around him when he answered, “What kind of problem?”

“A raptor kind,” Sara replied and never took her eyes off the creature that found them so fascinating.

There was a sharp pause from the other of the coms before Ray quickly said, “I'm on my way, but be careful, Sara.  Those things hunt –”

As Ray was speaking, the raptor tilted its snout towards the sky and gave off a couple of powerful and loud screeches.  In a moment, another raptor slipped from the cafe.  It considered with the same head tilt as the other but snapped in their direction aggressively.  Amaya flinched and took another step back as did Sara.  Mick, however, held as still as Sara had ever seen him.

From the corner of her eyes, Sara saw something move.  Another raptor jumped onto top of a nearby abandoned car and screamed at them, while a fourth and fifth emerged from the woods.  

Well, this wasn't good.

“Guys,” Sara said.  “Run!”

Just as she turned, a strong gust of wind blew against her.  She blinked at the sudden onslaught of air before noticing a boy standing next her.  He grinned impishly as he looked over the scene and then said, “Don't mind if I do.”

The kid seemed to disappear into a flash of light.  Sara turned to see where he went and saw the first raptor charging at Mick.  He opened fire, but before the flames could touch the dinosaur, something hit it in the side and sent it flying into a nearby brick wall.  It cracked nastily from the impact, while the creature laid motionless on the ground.  With its original target suddenly gone, the flames from Mick's gun instead hit the second raptor, which gave out a painful scream.  Ignoring Mick's comments about deep fried iguana, Sara searched for the boy.

Reappearing not far from Amaya, he looked around the park and said, “We've got a park now?  That's totally crash.”

Raptors four and five snapped at him and caused the kid to move closer to Amaya.

“Oh, yeah, kind of forgot about you two already,” he said sheepishly.  Turning to Amaya, he asked, “Like some help?”

A sharp screech stopped cut off the response and caused Sara to turn in the other direction.  Raptor four was coming right at her fast, which made Sara dodge sharply to the left so as to put a table between them.  It didn't stop the thing by any means, but she didn't expect it too.  Instead, when it jumped on top of the metal table, she dove under it.  The sheer weight of the beast was already overbalancing the furniture, so Sara knocked the lighter end up when she stood.  The table dumped the raptor onto the ground, which caused it to scramble back onto its feet and gave Sara a few precious seconds to try and put some distance between them.  

Sara was good, but she understood that a staff wasn't going to do much good in a fight like this.  They needed backup, now.

“Where are you, Ray?” she called into the coms.

“Not far,” he replied.  “I should be there in just a few minutes.”

A brush of air against her neck was the only warning that Sara got that the creature was right on her.  Running full tilt at a light pole, Sara dropped her staff at the same time that she jumped and then grabbed the pole.  Her momentum caused her to swing around and kick the raptor hard in the side.  It was knocked back into the street and off its feet again, which it clearly did not appreciate.

“We don't have a few minutes,” she shouted as she grabbed her staff and held it at the read.

The raptor growled as it lifted one foot and then another.  Its claws clicked against the asphalt, and it rather reminded Sara of an excited dog that was about to go after its favorite chew toy.  She adjusted her grip on her staff.  This wasn't going to be fun.

However, before it could take a single step, a powerful, screaming sound wave sent it flying through the air.  She force of the blast knocked it hard through a car's windshield, which shattered upon the impact.  The car itself shook a bit from the sound blast but remained still afterward.

Sara felt the air leave her chest as her blonde savior glanced her way.

“Laurel?” Sara asked.

Laurel didn't respond, just continued to stare at her with a frown.  However, before Sara could say anything else, another person walked up next to her sister.

He smirked at the scene before him and then asked, “Well, what do we have here?”

Again, Sara could only stare.

“Snart?”

[caraferguson]

Adventures in Victoria

I wrote a few emails to a friend back in the spring of 2010. Recently searching for some other emails I stumbled across these and, inspired by another friend's posting cool stories about his current trip to Victoria, decided to post my dusty tales - well at least the first few days of my adventure. 

Here we go...names have been changed to protect the (not so) innocent:

Cara's Excellent Adventure - Hello Victoria:)

Wow.  Victoria is beautiful.  The hotel is very stuffy and stodgy and kind of faded but cool.  Reminds me of the way my Grandma's house (100 plus years old) in Shelburne smelled.  I think they may have actually imported some of her original furniture because the couch in my room is the spitting image of one she had in the parlour (seriously, not a living room or great room - a parlour) back in the day.  There is even a stain on it reminiscent of the time I spilled lime Kool-Aid whilst fighting with my older brother over who got the last potato chip.  Hmmm. Btw I tricked him (actually I may possibly have hit him with a hard object which probably doesn't fit the definition of tricking him exactly) and got the potato chip in case you were wondering.  And blamed him for the stain too ha ha. I'm just going to tell myself the stain on this couch is lime Kool-Aid cuz the alternative could be quite unsettling.  

The reception here was so nice. So posh and gracious.  They upgraded me to a deluxe room because I am so cute I think.  Okay, so maybe that's a stretch. They probably upgraded me because I arrived early and they didn't want me loitering in the lobby attracting sailors (it's the 100 anniversary of the Navy and the streets are crawling with men & women in uniform) or pestering the guests with my Queen imitation.  I do a pretty mean Queen wave btw - wrist positioning is critical to a successfully authentic Queen wave.  That was also in case you are wondering.  Ahh, I bet I've inspired you to try it now haven't I?  I can see you doing it right now.  Careful, not too much curvature to the fingers.  Tut tut cheerio and all that.

Well off to the gym - good thing about this place is that it's high tea and all the Stodgies are heading to the upper Lobby which leaves the gym empty for me to use.  Which is good because I get very red-faced and sweaty and when others are around my workouts are frequently interrupted by people asking me if I'm okay and/or if they should call 911 or trying to zap me with those defibrillator (sp?) thingies.  This is why I work out in my garage.  I did tour the Y and may get a membership so I can work with one of the trainers there but I'll probably have to make up a big sign to wear around my neck that says "I'm okay.  Really." or "Put the damn defibrillator thingie away before someone loses an eye".  Or something like that.

Day One of Cara's Excellent Adventure 

Woke up at the crack of yawn.  Seriously.  That three hour time difference is a killer.  4:30 here and wide awake.  I'm thinking I'd like some breakfast so I can fuel up before an early trip to the gym but nothing is open.  Okay, well nothing within reasonable/safe walking distance that I know of is open.  I'm regretting not taking the time yesterday to hunt down a market and pick up some fruit and cereal or something.

I make some coffee, do some work, kill some time.  I consider ordering room service but even though it's coming out of the company's account I can't bring myself to order two eggs, fruit and coffee for $30.  I don't know if I told you this but my maiden name is Ferguson...Scottish blood...I'm not cheap but spending that kind of money on breakfast goes against my very DNA.  So I go out for a walk and find a Smitty's and get the same for $10.  I decide to explore a bit and head out around downtown Victoria.  Still, nothing is open yet but it's a nice walk along the harbour and little nooks and crannies of the city. 

I'm walking along Government Street, very pretty, lush, green trees and foliage, the sun is shining and I'm snapping photos.  It's absolutely freezing out but still such a beautiful day and I'm enjoying it.  As I walk out under a canopy of dense greenery I hear a sudden bloodcurdling shriek and the heavy rushing sound of a huge wingspan propelling an ominous dark object at my head.  The air swirls around me and I feel talons scrape over my scalp.  It happened fast. I didn't scream or run or wet my pants even.  I bravely and calmly swatted at the air around my head as though it was an irritating fly and not a tourist-eating pterodactyl - a renegade that had escaped from the Jurassic Park movie set and made its home here.  I felt around my head.  No puncture wounds or pre-historic bird poop.  I admit, I was relieved.  Perhaps it was my fault and I should have spent more time brushing my hair when I got up this morning - the creature may have thought I was walking off with its nest on my head.  Because even though I go to bed with relatively calm, straight hair somehow, over the course of the night, something happens to it that normally would require a can of hairspray, a rat-tailed comb and a Weed Whacker to accomplish.

So I head back to the hotel thinking - okay, I've probably left enough time for breakfast to digest - time to hit the gym.  Back to my room, into my workout clothes and ready to rumble.  Now I frequently make a habit of taking the stairs whenever I can and I happen to be one door down from some exit stairs.  Let me back up a minute actually.  My room is at the end of a really, really long hallway that is off another really, really long hallway.  One of them is so long that you can't even really see the end of it properly.  And there is a big, big ramp you have to use.  Oh, and about that ramp.  Big ramp that you can see a mile down the hallway, this is not a little carpet speed bump let me tell you, and they have this teeny tiny little sign on the wall that says "Caution ramp".  Now I ask you - if someone's eyesight is so bad that they don't see the ramp how the heck is a little sign going to help them to avoid tripping?  Really?  Does that make sense to you?  But I digress.  Anyway.  I decide to take the stairs that are at the end of this killer long hallway down to the Fitness Room.  That is when I discovered that this is the stairway to the bowels of the hotel and not the Fitness Room.  It is a stairway that no one ever uses.  And all of the doors to each floor lock behind you.  And there is no technology that allows you to just swipe your room key to get out.  I have to confess, I didn't try every floor but I tried a lot.  And they were locked.  And it was an unkempt, musty stairwell.  There were cobwebs and such. I kid you not.  Not having any luck going up I went back down, down, down to the aforementioned bowels.  I manage to get a door open to a dark, dank room ... a few puddles on the floor - drips coming from the ceiling.  A single bulb kind of swinging in the middle of the room.  It was freakin' creepy let me tell you. Knowing that if there are pterodactyls on the loose there could also be a few escaped raptors running around I'm nervous.  I expect to see a huge bloody carcass swinging from the ceiling - hey, it is a meat conference I'm at - this is not so far-fetched. Plus I also had a long discussion with someone the other day about a few Stephen King novels that scared the pants off of me and this room had Stephen King potential.  My footsteps actually echoed dully...once again I kid you not.  Then I heard voices.  I was quiet but I wasn't sneaking up on them purposely - I was trying to figure out if they were employees or some hotel bowel dwelling scary people.  They were employees.  And they actually yelped (aka screamed like little girls) when they saw me (once again I considered that perhaps I should do something about my hair) but it was because they hadn't expected a human to come from the direction I'd come from and possibly also because I'd caught them smoking pot.  I explained my predicament, they said they had forgotten there were even stairs there, and there were so many places you could get lost in this hotel.  They showed me how to get to the Fitness Room.  I tell you I was never so happy to see a gym before.  And, for the record, I did go back and check the stairwell.  There was no sign indicating that if you entered the stairwell the door would lock forever behind you...so they have a sign warning you about a huge ramp that if you don't notice you probably deserve to trip over but no sign to indicate that you could be trapped for all eternity in the stairwell once the door closes and locks behind you.  Go figure. 

Rest assured that  I made a note of that on my hotel comment card.  

The rest of the day was pretty uneventful after that - I worked out for an hour, had a long shower, got ready to meet my friend who was arriving around lunch.   We did high tea (which despite the name does not involve any pot other than that which holds the tea). It was kind of a letdown though it was tasty. Just thought people should have to go all poshed up but there were tons of people in jeans and baseball caps.  Somehow it needed the posh part to be special.

Went out to explore again - avoiding the site of the pterodactyl attack - which, by the way, after eyewitness reports (I ended up meeting someone this evening that had witnessed it) I've discovered it was just a big, bad-assed crow and I'd walked too close to its nest.  Apparently this has happened before and had nothing to do with my lackadaisical hair care.

Anyway, after that it was a cocktail on the hotel veranda where they actually bring blankets out for you.  I thought it was just for me and because it was evident that I was badly in need of a nap but apparently everyone gets one to use if they want.  Not that I'd want to wrap myself up in a blanket that a stranger had been using.  Well not until after a few cocktails at least.  After said cocktails I went back to my room and quickly fell asleep.  

The rest of it you kind of know.  Meat reception (mmmm meat).  Ran into Mr. X and he was really nice to me and we talked for ages.  That was new.

Okay...so I have sooo rambled on.  But it's a pretty good record of my day.  Only mildly exaggerated.  Truly adventurous.  I like it here!