#just a reminder that these are in random order and queued!

[corporatefrog]

╰┈➤ Welcome Back to the Channel part 29; like and subscribe

✧.* featuring yn setting up for their newest youtube video when a few unexpected guests arrive : ̗̀➛ notes - this is the last chapter! thank you guys so much for joining me during the journey of this story. I haven't finished a fic in years so it feels so good to write that final line. I left it pretty open ended to be ready for extra chapters in the future!! I could say a bunch more about how thankful I am for people reading this story and how much it's help me work through the past month but i'll let the chapter do that :) tags - college au, superhero au, smau

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Okay. Let’s do this. 

“Hey guys! We’ve got a really special video today!” I greeted with a beaming grin, micking a high five with the camera. So far so good. “We’re going to be doing an interview I’ve been waiting to make for a long time…” I paused for effect before moving to the side, revealing today’s special guest. 

“Say hello to Mysterion!” I exclaimed with applause. I’d add some cheering effects while editing but without it, it sounded a bit empty. 

Looking back at Kenny, a laugh burst from my mouth at the expression on his face. He’d twisted his mouth into some semblance of a smirk but with the mask he looked cool and suave and more like he’d just smelled a three day old diaper. 

“Dude, what is that face? You look fucking stupid.” I said between laughs. Kenny frowned, giving me a side eye. 

“I’ve got a reputation to uphold!” He whined, gesturing to the dark hooded costume, “You don’t get it because you just started using your persona-”

“KENNY! Just say my social security number too why don’t you-” The frame shook as I lunged forward to stop the recording before any more secrets were shared on camera.

It had been about a few months since I’d started working with Butters and the guys would not let me forget they had seniority in the hero/villain world. Every chance Clyde had, he reminded me that he was there when they fought Cthulhu. Of course, Kyle was close behind to say that Clyde had done absolutely nothing during that fight. But that was followed by Kyle reminding me that he was sent to hell and was there during the eldritch battle.

I’d been worried when they found out that they’d stop talking to me altogether. I wasn’t quite sure why. They’ve known about Butters being Professor Chaos since they were children and I see him and Kenny hang out more than he hangs out with Kyle and Stan sometimes. He even hangs out with Craig and his group on the weekends. 

The only thing that’s been hurt by my employment at Chaos LLC is my intel source. Wendy stopped giving me insider details about hero movements if they related to Professor Chaos so I haven’t been able to cover as much of his antics but she was still queuing me into other run-ins with minor villains and typical South Park oddities. 

Last week, fucking Slenderman showed up. Like a tall faceless dude in a suit and tie Slenderman. Just standing in the park. He did kidnap Butters which led to an interesting rescue mission. And the video coverage was insane. Marble Hornets could never. 

I didn’t want to trust it at first. I’d spent a month waiting for things to suddenly change. For everyone to turn on me for being a minor inconvenience at best but Craig still asked me to help him with his stats homework at Tweek Bros and Stan still invited me to whatever random board game shop he was visiting that week. The only thing that changed was sometimes we ran around the city in (if I’m being honest) ridiculous costumes and blew off some of the steam that comes with being a college student at Garrison University. 

The entire college almost shut down last month due to Dean Garrison being convicted of tax fraud and publicly attempting to assassinate the President in order to avoid charges. Without anyone to lead the college and the name now permanently connected to an elementary school teacher turned assassin, the only option seemed to be shutting the place down. That was a rough month. The university was literally on the verge of closure and I still had to write a 10 page research paper. What kind of bullshit is that?

Yeah but it was a paper about The Bachelor so was it really work?

Anything that involves citing in APA is work. 

The routine of my new normal set in pretty quickly. Well, as ‘normal’ as things can be when you’re friends with superheroes in South Park. I went to my classes, made videos for my channel, then I’d meet up with Butters and ruin a few people’s day a few times a week. It was scary how easily I fell into the routine. I’d wake up and say good morning to Stan as though he weren’t shooting tranquilizer darts from a nail gun at me a few hours earlier. Certainly not a sentence I ever thought I’d say. 

Looking back on the past two years, I see all the chances I had to end up somewhere else. If I’d gone to a different university and never set foot in South Park or if I’d chosen a different apartment and never ran into Clyde on my first day there I could have led a completely different life. Even in the moments which dragged on my mind, they all led me here. And the feeling of comfort that comes along with that thought makes every struggle worthwhile. 

There’s nowhere I’d rather be and here. Attending a university with an idiot dean, living in an apartment building with my closest friends, and now helping someone I care about get the revenge he’s due. Oh, and making youtube videos about all the stupid shit that happens along the way.

I restarted the recording, giving Kenny a warning glare before saying the intro again. This time, he kept a normal face which made it much easier to not think about how just a few months ago, I was freaking out at the idea of talking to THE Mysterion. 

Granted, now we’ve seen THE Mysterion vomiting in a toilet at 2 am after eating his taco bell too fast so the shimmer has faded. 

“So, Mysterion,” I started, glancing at my list of questions I’d prepared for the interview, “You’ve been the longest running hero in South Park history! How does it feel to be coming up on 10 years as South Park’s Guardian Angel?”

Kenny hummed as he mulled over the question, “It’s not an easy job-” A knock on the door cut off his answer. I looked over at Kenny with a confused expression. He mirrored my confusion but couldn’t offer an idea on who was interrupting our interview for the second time. 

I paused the video before heading over to the door, looking through the peephole. Toolshed’s signature belt gave him away instantly. He shifted from foot to foot as he waited, tapping his hands against his thighs. 

What the fuck?

I opened the door, leaning against the frame while I deadpanned at my neighbor. 

“What’re you doing?” I asked, looking at him from under my eyebrows. 

Stan flashed a sheepish smile, “Well, I heard that you were interviewing Ken-” He paused, glancing down the hall both ways before correcting himself, “Mysterion today and I was thinking I could join? I haven’t gotten an interview yet after all.” 

“You haven’t gotten an interview because all you’ve done the past three fights is stand in the back with a power drill looking lost.” I pulled up my phone and held it up for Stan to see the footage from the past three hero conflicts. While Kenny and Craig dove into the fray, Stan could be seen in the background, searching through his utility belt for the right tool for the battle. By the time he held up his weapon of choice, Craig would be throwing the final punch.

“Okay those videos are rigged. You got those from the Craig fan accounts.” Stan protested. 

“You’re really reaching now bud-” 

“Is there still time for the interview?” A voice shouted from down the hall. Kyle’s door flew open with him rushing out soon after. The kite strapped to his back caught on the door frame, sending him tripping and falling into the wall across the hall from his door. I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face while the sound of Kyle cursing and tripping over his own stupid fucking costume filled the hallway. 

“Dude what are you doing?” Stan asked, crossing his arms as though he were the one being put upon by the appearance of the Human Kite. Kyle righted himself, brushing imaginary dust off his costume. 

“You said you were going to try and get in on the interview and after my last one-” He gave me a pointed look as though I were the one who chose his stupid name in the first place, “turned into me being berated for an hour and a half.” 

“Yeah but you already had one. It’s my turn now.” Stan whined. 

“Actually, it’s my turn right now.” Kenny said, suddenly appearing behind me at the door. I jumped to the side, holding a hand over my chest to keep my heart from jumping out at the shock. 

“Jesus fuck man. I need to put a bell on you.” I muttered to myself before addressing the slowly growing group of complaining superheroes, “None of you guys get to decide whose turn it is to be on my channel. I set up this interview with Kenny a month ago and we’re finally getting to filming so if you want to have ‘your turn’ you need to fill out the form and join the queue like everyone else. I’ve got Craig and Tweek lined up for next month then Tolkien-”

“How the fuck does Tolkien get to go before me-”

“Because he filled out the fucking form Stan? I literally just told you.” 

“Okay, well I just think it would be more interesting to have Toolshed on before Tupperware.” Stan looped his thumbs through his utility belt, kicking a foot at the ground with a frown tugging at his lips. He looked up at me with pouting eyes, blinking rapidly as he tried to change my mind.

No way this 20 year old is pouting in the hallway right now. 

I blew a breath out of the corner of my mouth, averting my eyes from the pouting college student. I better not regret this. 

“Okay, fine.” I started. Stan’s posture immediately improved as he straightened up and began to walk towards the door. Kyle followed suit with a borderline giddy smile of his own. I held up a hand to stop them, “But this is a one time thing, okay? Don’t go telling the others you can just bug me into doing a video with them because I know Clyde can and will be the most annoying motherfucker to ever exist until I do an entire series about him.” 

Kyle and Stan nodded rapidly, heads moving in sync as they agreed to whatever would get them in the video. I was about to move aside and let them in when Kenny sucked in a breath. 

“We weren’t supposed to tell other people about this?” He asked. When I turned to stare at him, he plastered an awkwardly large grin on his face. 

“Who did you tell?” I asked, holding my breath out of fear for what he’d say next. Kenny paused, eyes moving across the ceiling as he thought over the question. That’s never a good sign. Then he began counting on his fingers, mouth moving in silent words as he continued to tick off different unknown names. 

Letting his hands fall with a shrug, he looked back at me with the still incredibly awkward smile, “Only like a few of the guys-” 

“MUAHAHAHA, THIS IS WHERE YOU FALL MYSTERION!” Butters came barreling in through my balcony doors, fists raised to the sky as he posed in the living room. The four of us turned to look at the villain. 

“False alarm, Butters. Apparently this was a lowkey thing.” Kenny said, pointing to me with his thumb as though I were the buzzkill in the situation. My jaw dropped as I turned to Kenny, appalled that he had the audacity to claim I was ruining our private interview I’d spent a month planning. 

Butters’ arms fell back to his sides, tinfoil of his gauntlets scraping slightly against his belt, “Awe geez, and here I was ready for a scuffle.” He said, scuffing the toe of his boot against the floor in a similar pout to Stan’s from moments before. 

Why am I friends with a bunch of toddlers? 

Before I could address Butters’ appearance, my apartment was flooded with the rest of my friends all clad in their hero costumes. Tolkien waddled behind Tweek and Craig, turning sideways to get through the door with Clyde following close behind. Soon my apartment was filled with arguing superheroes and one very boisterous villain, all trying to figure out how to fit themselves into the frame. 

I squeezed myself onto the couch between Kenny and Clyde, feeling like I should at least have the original planned video guest in the middle of the frame. Voices overlapped as Stan tried to shove Kyle over, pushing Tweek and Craig further to the side. The cacophony of sound bounced off the walls and made the air buzz with the rambunctious energy. 

Normally the noise would send me spiraling, overstimulated by the different sounds all pulling me in different directions, but the noise around me calmed the normally racing thoughts in my mind. I’d spent so long sitting in front of this camera, reading off new stories of the people who now shouted my name to grab my attention from opposite ends of the couch I’d gotten off Facebook Marketplace. The once deafening silence which filled the moments between takes was replaced by shouts to move over and accusations of stepping on their kite string. 

It was the best noise I’d ever heard. 

“I’m starting now! Everyone shut up and follow me lead!” I announced, stabilizing the camera before returning to my spot with a smile.

I smiled for the camera. I smiled at the thought of the views a video with all of South Park’s heroes would get. But I also smiled from the overwhelming happiness that came from being surrounded by my closest friends. 

“Hey guys!” I greeted, raising a hand to mimic a high five with the lens,

“Welcome back to the channel!”

taglist [reply to be added]: @sula0kin @lacuna-at-dawn @anglettecolours @cocolena@sukisprettyface @feverish-dove @sweetadonisbutbetter @hand-writxen@mishstuff@sophtophie @triphovia  @lacunaanonymoused @inkedintothepaper @toodeepintofandoms@mmmaackerel @sillybilly-123@n0tangeliccc@sophtophie@inkedintothepaper 

[dangraccoon]

Oyuba'din - Chapter 18: Reconciliation

Summary: Jaine comes across an old friend, Commander Tano helps Hunter, and Tech and Crosshair have a heartfelt conversation.

Warnings: curse-related amnesia, anxiety, guilt, vague reference to childhood trauma

Author's Note: sorry this took soooooo long to come out! I was hoping to get back to a regular schedule, but my job proved to be a little more insane than previously thought 😅 but I’m hoping to have some chapters queued up and hoping I’ll be able to post every other Monday! Keep an eye out!

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Jaine was breathing heavily as she scurried through the Temple halls. Everything looked the same as she remembered, but she wasn’t quite sure where she was even trying to go. She’d only been here twice, and it was so long ago.

She tried to listen for the Force, or her intuition, taking turns that felt somewhat random and unpredictable.

Suddenly, as though she weren’t in control of herself, she slowed to a stop. A set of towering doors before her, she pressed her hand against it.

Something about the hall in which she found herself felt familiar. She wasn’t sure she really recognized it, but she just knew she had been here before.

“Jainera? Oh, stars, it is you!”

Someone was watching her, curiosity evident in their eyes.

When Jaine looked up, and her eyes met the soft gray of someone she could have sworn she’d met before.

“Ah, I think maybe you’ve had another…mishap,” they said, smiling gently at Jaine’s confused expression. “It’s no matter; I can always reintroduce myself.”

They extended their hands, taking one of Jaine’s hands between them.

“You’re…you’re a Jedi Healer, right?” Jaine asked, the touch of them beginning to remind her.

“Yes!” they beamed. “My name is-”

“Khawa!” Jaine gasped, a grin forming across her face despite the way her head ached. “You helped me after I’d-”

“Yes,” Khawa smiled sadly. “I only wish I had been able to help you more back then.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry if I seemed stubborn or-”

“Oh! No, no, no! You were the perfect patient!”

“A side effect of being the daughter of a healer,” Jaine shrugged.

“Sure, between that and your clumsiness,” Khawa smirked.

Jaine gasped, falsely scandalized. “How dare you!”

The pair laughed together, the sound warming Jaine’s heart.

“Come with me,” Khawa said, giving Jaine a curious look. “It seems we have much to catch up on.”

-

“All due respect, sir, but are you sure she came this way?” Hunter asked, trailing the padawan nervously.

“Ease your mind, Sergeant,” Ahsoka said, waving him off. “I know the sensory dampeners caused you to lose her trail, but I read her records; I think I know where she went.”

Hunter stopped in his tracks. “The…what?”

“What, the sensory dampeners?” she looked back at him, stopping as well. “Didn’t you notice that your senses have dulled here?”

“Of course I did,” he mumbled defensively. “But I didn’t know such a thing was possible.”

Ahsoka hummed, turning back to continue leading him through the halls. “For those of us with sensitive senses, it can be very helpful.”

Hunter considered this. Races like the togruta and twi’lek were very sensitive to their surroundings, their lekku almost like antennae. He knew how it felt.

“What did you find in her record?” Hunter asked, his attention shifting back to Jaine.

“Considering it’s a sealed record in the library of the Jedi Order, it’s a bit classified,” Ahsoka chuckled.

“Anything you can tell me?”

“We’re headed to the medical bay.”

“Great.”

-

Khawa’s laughter echoed throughout the medical bay, and they wiped away a stray tear that leaked from their eye. “Did- did he really just pick you up like that?”

Jaine rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop the fond smile that grew across her face. “Yep. Just hefted me over his shoulder like it was nothing.”

“Bet you hated that, huh?” Khawa nudged her arm, winking conspiratorially.

“Oh, no. No, not you too!” Jaine collapsed dramatically, her face to the small table between them.

“So Sinya thinks you have a thing for the sargeant too then,” they laughed.

“Yes,” she groaned.

Khawa gently patted the back of Jaine’s head. “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but as long as you’re on Coruscant, Sinya will be trying to get you two to hook up.”

“I know,” she lamented. “It’s just not going to happen. And besides, I’m pretty sure he hates me.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Khawa whispered, lightly tapping Jaine’s arm.

“See, I told you I knew where she’d be,” Commander Tano announced, and Jaine’s head shot upwards.

“Jaine,” Hunter breathed, his voice flooded with relief as he came to kneel next to her.

Khawa made a face at her - somewhere between amusement, satisfaction, and curiosity, before walking to the doorway where Ahsoka was still standing, the two beginning to chatter quietly to themselves.

Jaine knew her pulse was pounding, and that he could hear it, but she couldn’t calm herself; not when he was looking at her like that.

“Hunter-”

“Jaine, I swear to you that we’re all okay,” he breathed, his voice barely louder than a whisper, but filled to the brim with emotion. “You certainly surprised us, but you didn’t hurt us.”

“I burned Crosshair! I threw you and Echo against a wall!”

“We’ve had worse,” Hunter shrugged, his eyes never leaving hers.

Jaine felt the sting of tears pricking at her eyes. “I can’t be the reason you get hurt,” she whispered. “Not any of you.”

The smell of the tears beginning to streak down her cheeks was breaking Hunter’s heart, and her usually earthy scent was marred by fear and anxiety.

“You could never hurt us, mesh’la,” he cooed, his hand cupping her cheek as he wiped the tears from it with his thumb.

“I already did,” she sobbed, not realizing the way she pressed her face into his hand, and definitely not noticing the way Hunter’s heart began to pound against his chest.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” he assured her. “Please, come back to the Marauder with me?”

Jaine swallowed. Hunter’s eyes were looking into her own so deeply, his warm hand against her cheek, and the slight smile as he asked her to go with him.

“Force, this is so sweet,” Khawa whispered to Ahsoka at the other end of the room, causing Hunter to whip his head towards them. Khawa squeaked as Hunter stared them down, and Ahsoka chuckled, pulling Khawa out of the room by their arm, despite their protests.

Jaine felt her face heat up, as though she had just realized the position they were in. She pulled her face away from his hand, awkwardly looking anywhere but at him.

Hunter missed the warmth of her cheek the moment it left his hand, but he pushed that feeling away.

“Please come with me,” he whispered, returning to his feet.

Jaine didn’t speak but nodded a little, accepting the hand that Hunter offered.

He squeezed her hand gently, savoring the feeling of her small hand in his own, trying not to feel hurt when she gently pulled it from his grasp.

-

“Damnit, Tech,” Crosshair hissed as Tech continued to care for his hand.

“Don’t be a child, Crosshair,” Tech said flatly.

“Maybe don’t press as hard?” Echo suggested quietly.

“Stow it, Echo,” Tech snapped, not looking away from his work for a moment. “It’s bad enough she burnt Crosshair’s hand, but now I’ll have to make repairs to the nodes of your chest implant. Maker only knows how much she hurt Hunter and he could still be in danger.”

“In danger?” Wrecker echoed.

“Yes,” Tech explained, the irritation he felt clearly showing through. “If he is with Lieutenant Vale, he could be in significant danger.”

Wrecker laughed, ignoring his brother’s tone. “Jainey isn’t ‘danger’! She’s so little, and she’s too nice to hurt ‘im.”

Tech scowled. “As always, I am the only one thinking clearly. Jaine Vale has already injured three members of this squad. Given her current unstable nature and the…powers she wields without formal training, it is more than likely that our squad will receive more injuries from her. Hunter’s original judgment was correct; she should be transferred out of our squad and, possibly, out of the GAR.”

“Tech,” Echo chided, placing a comforting hand on the shoulder of Wrecker, who was looking a bit like a kicked loth-wolf pup.

“What’s your problem?” Crosshair growled. “What happened that night you went to talk to her?”

Tech, finishing wrapping Crosshair’s hand, stood, straightening his goggles. “She incorrectly assumed I was there because I was having trouble sleeping. She brewed a tea with sedative properties and sent me off.”

He knew he was leaving out facts about that interaction. She was simply just doing her job. He didn’t correct her when she tried to deduce why he was pacing in front of her door so late at night, and it wasn’t as though she was incorrect; he was having trouble sleeping. Granted though that this was mostly due to his own guilt over his misplaced lack of trust.

He also knowingly left out the fact that she went on to explain why he was really there, opening up to him ever so slightly. It was like she had read his mind - something that not even Crosshair, his batch twin and best friend, could do.

He left out that the memory of how he’d felt that night - watching her work, the intimacy of her opening up to him, the tea, the way her voice lilted, the smell of her freshly washed hair that he caught when she sat so close to him - it all brought a buzzing sensation to his mind, like comm static, despite his anger with her now.

Tech especially left out his inappropriate request for a taste of more…physical intimacy, and his complete and utter regret that he’d stopped himself from hearing her answer. Or that the only time his mind was ever blissfully relaxed was in his sleep; that he didn’t dream often, yet that night he’d dreamt of her.

Returning himself to the moment, Tech knew his batch twin would be giving him a heated glare, and he could practically feel the anger rolling off of him.

“She was ‘incorrect’, was she?” Crosshair drawled, scowling at his brother. He knew Tech well enough to know that he wasn’t telling the full story.

Echo and Wrecker looked at each other with matching expressions of confusion, then towards Crosshair.

Crosshair looked at Echo with a face he hoped read as “please get Wrecker out of here”. Despite his anger with Tech, and his confidence that when the chips were down, Wrecker would have his back on the matter of Jaine, Crosshair knew his big, sensitive brother didn’t need to bear witness to the clash between his “baby brothers”.

Echo gave a subtle nod, muttering some excuse to Wrecker, and pushing him out of the room.

“You did not need to do that,” Tech said flatly as the door closed, leaving the pair of them alone.

Crosshair scoffed. “Do what? Spare the big guy from whatever banthashit you’re about to spew?”

Tech spun around to face Crosshair. “I am not-” he started, but upon seeing the utterly exasperated look on his brother’s face, he hesitated.

“Tech,” Crosshair murmured, patting the space next to him.

Tech took a deep breath, then plopped down next to his twin.

“Bic cuyir shi ni, ara'vod,” Crosshair whispered. [It’s only me, twin.]

Tech’s eyebrows shot up as he searched his brother’s face. “Gar su partaylir mando'a?” [You still remember mando’a?]

“Just enough to keep you on your toes,” Crosshair chuckled lightly, bumping Tech’s arm with his own.

Tech pushed back a little, rolling his eyes. The twins fell into a comfortable silence, just being near one another enough to calm their minds.

“You’re not going to ask?” Tech questioned nervously moments later. He was beginning to fidget, and Crosshair noticed. He also noticed how hard Tech was fighting not to fidget.

Crosshair shrugged. “You’ll tell me when you feel like it.” He noted that this was clearly not the response Tech was looking for as he watched his brother scowl at the floor.

Crosshair sighed. “What hap-”

“I was speechless!” Tech practically burst. “I was simply there to admit my own faults and apologize, then she opened the door and I just couldn’t say anything.”

“That…that’s remarkable. Did you note the time?”

Tech’s expression was unamused. “It was late and I couldn’t sleep-”

“Tech, I know this part, remember? I’m the one that talked you into apologizing?”

Tech thought back to that night, desperately trying to remember anything but her sleepy expression or the sound of her humming. Maker, he was right. He must be losing his mind.

“R-right,” Tech mumbled.

“Skip to the part where you couldn’t talk?” Crosshair suggested.

“You seem to have latched onto that idea,” Tech said, eyeing his brother, who barked out a short laugh.

“Moments when you can’t talk are very rare,” Crosshair grinned. “I can’t think of a single time you couldn’t find something to say.”

Tech rolled his eyes, shaking his head at his twin’s antics.

“And to think,” Crosshair goaded. “It was a little medic to finally get you to shut up.”

“Oh, shove it up your ass, Crosshair,” Tech groaned.

“Come on, brother,” Crosshair chuckled, elbowing Tech’s ribs gently. “Tell me what happened.”

Tech sighed again. “I can’t tell you.”

“Sure you can.”

“No, Cross, I can’t tell you,” Tech repeated, pointedly looking anywhere but at Crosshair.

Crosshair scowled a little, searching his brother’s face for answers. “Tech, if you can’t tell me, who can you tell?”

Tech didn’t answer, turning his face from his brother again. A quiet wave of harsh realization washed over Crosshair.

“Don’t do this, Tech,” he whispered. “Don’t push me away. Please, not again.”

Tech stood and began walking towards the door, but was stopped when Crosshair grabbed his wrist.

“Tech, please,” Crosshair practically begged, words spilling desperately from his lips. “Vi nu'cuyir ogir dar. Gar nu'vaabir linibar at haaranovor. Nu'vaabir haaranovor teh ni.” [We aren’t there any longer. You don’t need to hide. Don’t hide from me.]

Meh shi ibac rucuyir veman, ner vod, Tech thought as he collected himself and left Crosshair alone in the medbay. [If only that were true, my brother.]

Thanks for reading! - Dang

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[solavelyan]

intro.

It's a Dragon Age sideblog! My main blog is @bogunicorn, and I go by Bog (or any type of nickname you can wring out of "bog unicorn"). If you're looking for more info about me as a person, that'll all be over on my main.

This blog and my main are both 18+. Please do not follow me if you're under 18. I don't keep close track of my followers, but I do check out blogs that follow me because of the spambots, and I block minors on sight.

eta oct 2023: given The Bullshit happening at bioware following their mass layoffs and their leveraging of the next game against former employees' requests for proper severance pay, please assume that none of my posts or words are an implicit or explicit endorsement of the company itself. i mean, they already weren't, i just want you to imagine that all of my reblogs have an invisible "EA/BW execs fall off a cliff challenge" tacked onto them.

what to expect here.

Gifsets, fanart, jokey jokes, and sometimes (reblogged) meta posts.

My own Dragon Age thoughts, feelings, theories, random whatevers. My original posts of all kinds are tagged #bog post.

A general positivity toward queer shit, weird shit, horny shit, and kinky shit.

My fanfic and my OCs. I don't post fic too often, at least not in the last few months, but I have a ton of OCs (roster TBA). I write notes and profiles and little ideas for them as a hobby even when I'm not actively writing fic. Anything relating to my own writing will be tagged #bogfic, anything involving my characters tagged #my ocs and then #character name (oc).

Generally, I'm a multishipper at heart and can find something to love about any given ship, PC choice, character, or type of storyline. Chances are if I'm spending my time talking about something or speculating on it, it's because I'm having fun or enjoying myself.

Commentary on fandom trends and behaviors (and, sometimes, common sense reminders not to be a dick to each other about fake stuff).

To get blocked if you put rude or annoying shit in my mentions, including using any of my posts to character bash or otherwise go off-topic in order to air your personal grievances underneath my stuff. I don't care if you don't like Solas, or if you have strong opinions about Anders vs. Fenris, or if you think "supporting" the mages/Templars/Chantry is good/bad, or if you feel like your personal favorite character/PC option/romance isn't represented by my posts and you feel your specific criticism is the exception. Do not cite the deep magic to me, witch, I was there when it was written (like 10+ years and three US presidents ago). Mind your manners and blacklist or scroll if you need to.

what not to expect.

Untagged Veilguard spoilers. All my Veilguard posts with potential spoilers will be tagged #datv spoilers or #veilguard spoilers, since the latter seems to be what people are using across multiple sites now.

Consistent character bashing or character hate. I simply do not spend a majority of my online time thinking about stuff I hate.

Anonymous asks. Anon is always turned off, both here, on my main, and on my AO3.

Real world politics and news, or general (as in, not-DA-specific) Disk Horse. Honestly, probably not even that much Dragon Age Discourse, either.

Equating in-game choices or fandom opinions with real life politics and morality. I don't "support" any group in Thedas because Thedas is fake. My politics are for real people, not Wizard Politics or whatever.

Egg or cheese jokes.

the tag system (tm).

#timeless posts - Anything reblogged from the depths of @bogunicorn in the last 10 years. Usually queued.

#bog post - Any and all of my original posts.

#bogfic - Anything involving my writing or my OCs.

#my ocs - My OCs. Often accompanied by #[character name] (oc).

#spicy bog - Ye olde horny tag.

#bogcrit, #[character name] critical, #dragon age critical, #[game] critical, #fandom bs - These are my Complaining Tags. If you never want to see anything truly critical or negative, just blacklist #bogcrit. If you want to avoid grousing or critique of a specific character, the games in general, individual games, or the fandom itself, blacklist whatever listed tag is relevant to you.

#fic, #art - Fanfic and fanart that I didn't make.

#misc - Anything not covered by other tags.

#da au - Any kind of alternate universe post.

#ask meme - Blanket tag for any put-it-in-the-tags posts, as well as actual ask memes.

UPDATE: Characters are tagged by their *FIRST names. Origins and Inquisition PCs are tagged #the warden or #the inquisitor. Hawke is always just #hawke, Rook is always just #rook. I don't specify gender *or faction/surname in my character tags, EXCEPT for the Inquisitor because it's too much of a habit not to. This system is already complicated enough and I have like... 12 followers anyway.

Ships are tagged #[character] x [character] in alphabetical order, with the PCs just using their title EXCEPT for the Inquisitor. I also use the more common portmanteaus (like Solavellan, Fenhawke, Adoribull, etc) if I'm making an original post that I want to show up in the tags, but I would still slap "lavellan x solas" on a Solavellan post (for example) just for consistency. If you really really don't want to see a specific ship on this blog, block the alphabetized "character x character" tag. I know that's inconvenient if you hate Solavellan or something but like... I guess also what are you doing on this specific blog if you don't like that ship anyway.

contact.

complain to my manager

send me an ask

read my fic

[mythgirlimagines]

Quick question: How do you do more serialized repeated asks such as a randomized killing game? Do you just do the asks as they pop up no matter where they are on the queue or do you just wait for them like any other asks?

Good question! I complete all of my asks in the order they arrive in my inbox (with few exceptions from time to time), so sometimes they'll arrive a few in a row and will be queued a few in a row, whereas other times there'll be an ask or two "interrupting" the flow and everything is posted in that order!

If that makes sense ^^'

Everything related to headcanons goes in the queue for the most part, whereas questions like this are answered more or less whenever I remember/get time haha

Which reminds me, I have a couple more video links in my inbox I haven't looked at yet

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 141

Last week I posted a day early because vacation was doing vacation things to my sense of time.... This week I forgot to queue the chapter up because Monday was a work holiday, so I forgot today was Tuesday. *insert facepalm here please*

Thanks on this one go largely to @baelpenrose who rightfully pointed out that one part made very little sense to him and therefore was unlikely to make sense to a reader.  The clarification smoothed things out quite a bit, I think.  Just in case, whoever spots the area I’m talking about gets a cookie as soon as travel restrictions lift.

As always, thanks go also to @the-raven-fae, @charlylimph-blog, and @anotherusrname for completing the corners of my support system. And, a super-duper extra-special to @drinksteawithcake! I don’t know if I am allowed to tell everyone why, but you know why you get the extra-special, and I hope you are having fun!

BWAAAAAHP!   BWAAAAAHP!

“Uhhh?” I squinted in complaint as flailing arms clambered over me. One pair snagged me around my waist to drag me from bed before depositing me shakily on my feet. “What are you - ?”

BWAAAAAHP!  BWAAAAAHP!

Any trace of sleep was shoved out of my system, replaced by sizzling alertness when I realized I was hearing ship-wide alarms.  Shoving myself into the first clothing I grabbed, not even bothering with shoes, I was hot on Conor and Maverick’s heels as we raced out of our quarters and into the corridor. We paused only long enough for both men to kiss me and for “I love yous” to be exchanged before they turned and headed toward the areas indicated on their datascreens, while I hauled ass toward the Archives, ducking and twisting to avoid anyone in my path.

“Forty minutes,” Tyche told me crisply as I basically fell through the door, panting. “The Ark could be invaded and the battle over by the time you make it.”

“I ran….huff….the whole….ugh….way….” I managed to gasp out.  Part of me felt like puking, but I was pretty sure the muscles in my abdomen were too busy to figure out the logistics.

Clicking her tongue, she pulled me up from the floor. “Alistair, make a note to suggest to Xio that Sophia’s quarters be relocated once we have a better idea of when we are dropping into real space.”

I nodded numbly. “And probably… amp up… sensors… give… earlier… warning.”

“Nice outfit, by the way,” she laughed quietly as we finally reached the shelter point within the Archives.

Glancing down, I had to suppress a sigh. The first thing I grabbed to dress myself had apparently been a pair of Conor’s boxer shorts and a very filthy t-shirt that I assumed belonged to Maverick, since Conor’s was usually under coveralls. “At least you can’t say I took my time getting dressed.”

Her shaking head was greeted by faces in various states of wakefulness - this had been a drill, and woke nearly the entire Ark during their sleep interval on Delta shift.  But we weren’t out of the woods, yet: the drill didn’t end until all of Xiomara and Evan’s scenarios played out, including the mock combat and various tests of concealment for the other shelters.  As such, Tyche stood guard over the choke-point into this section, while Alistair had stayed behind at the entrance.

Early on, when the drills started, there had been fifty-fifty odds that the mock-invaders would make it this far, but over the past few weeks, that had narrowed to maybe twenty-percent.  It was still too high a chance in my judgement, and Xiomara clearly agreed as she stepped up training schedules and randomized the timing of the drills. 

Taking a swig of water from a stash of bottles, I queued up my datapad and stood next to Tyche, watching the ‘casualties’ from a point where no one could see over my shoulder to avoid panic, which I would have done in a real situation. “They didn’t find mess hall seven this time,” I murmured.

She glanced at my screen. “Acoustics are still too damned high. She must not be simulating for that this go around.”

One of the decoy locations lit up. “Looks like this time it’s heavy on thermal.” The location in question had been equipped with a cooking surface, triggered to activate when the klaxons that had woken me up went off.  Which Xiomara knew, but did not tell the ‘pirates’ for authenticity.

“How did they get past the combatants this time?” She asked, both curious and slightly worried.

Rolling back the sensor data, I watched it carefully. “Looks like these got in during the initial breaches, multiple points. But the line has held since, that’s good.”

Doing another check toward Alistair’s direction, she didn’t seem to see anything concerning. “How many?”

“Four,” I confirmed.  “Sam’s thermal camouflage is working beautifully, though.”  I couldn’t help but grin, and Tyche snorted at the same time. ‘Thermal camouflage’ was a bit of overkill as a name, but it was working well in every round. Potential access points were equipped with fast-acting environmental simulators - originally designed for temporary habitats on inhospitable moons - modified to release atmosphere like a Terran equatorial rainforest within one minute in an enclosed space.  It was a much more simple and elegant solution than any others we had found for giving combatants defending the Ark an advantage - instead of trying to create technology to make them look colder, make the entire area match human heat signatures.  Boom, instantly blinded enemies.

A tense half-hour later, the ‘all clear’ sounded, queueing grumbling from those who had dozed back off as everyone stood to make their ways back to their quarters. I waited with Alistair and Tyche for everyone else to be accounted for on the way out, and the three of us headed back toward our quarters together.  Alistair peeled off first, living closest to the Archives, and no sooner had my sister and I reached my door than the page sounded for the post-drill meeting.  She waved me off as she answered on her databand, and I did the same as I pushed into my quarters and flopped on the couch. “Councillor Sophia Reid, present, audio only,” I answered. “And no jokes, Pranav… I look like I smell awful.”

“Alistair Worthington, present, audio and video. I can confirm that she does, and she does.”

Laughter filled the comms and the rest of the group leaders and Councillors joined the debrief.  Finally, everyone was present and Xiomara called the meeting to order.  First, the leaders of each shelter reported in, as those usually went the fastest. There were a couple malfunctions in the deployment of the shielding to disguise the entrances and hide heat and electrical signatures, but nothing Huynh’s team couldn’t fix.  Tyche and Alistair made the recommendations around earlier detection and the need to move those sheltering in the  Archives closer as we approached time to drop out of relativistic space. 

Once that was out of the way, it was on to the combat and invasion teams. Overall consensus was that Sam’s trick with the portable environments was a rousing success and would be installed at each point determined to be most likely as a breach, with trigger conditions to be determined later. “I hate to say it,” Michael sighed, “but we also need Charly’s team to crank up the scovilles on the arrows and grenades.” His team had played the ‘invaders’ this go around, equipped with sensors and readouts to simulate the effect our defenses would have on the various species who most commonly were found on pirate vessels.  Evan had worked intensely with Pranav and Derek to ensure that the strategies provided by the readouts were modelled after similar strategies based on which ever species each team member was assigned, to ensure we weren’t accidentally drilling against human tactics.

Michael hated it, but he was strict about his team complying nonetheless.

“Seriously?” I squawked, and I wasn’t the only one. “One of those things accidentally went off in my quarters…. Can confirm, they’re pretty potent.”

“They dissipated too fast against my team, and also the contact element left a lot to be desired. Charly, you may want to consider adding a sticking element.”

“Duly noted,” she chimed in with a yawn, her normal pep doused by being woken up and then the drop in adrenaline post-combat.

“What about the sonic weapons?” Xiomara asked, moving the meeting along.

“Still less effective than Nixe is on her own,” a familiar voice I couldn’t put a name to responded with a sheepish tone.  “How hard would it be to train more people to shatter glass with their voice?”

“Incredibly,” Grey stressed. “It takes a very unique combination of training and the right vocal chords.”

“Then we may need to work on adding a projection component.  The sonic devices can match the pitch, but not the actual tone and direction. They’re very effective given time and especially contact, but we need something more immediately disabling.”

Xiomara groaned. “Are we back to Mariah Carey on this one?” Objections exploded until she muted the comms. “It’s that or opera.” Votes started scrolling up the screen, and I could see Xio nod. “Opera it is.  Let’s find a suitable piece and try using more analogue-style speakers.”

“I still say that death metal would work better,” Arthur suggested as soon as the comms were back on.

“Annnnd we already tested it, I will remind you. The volume works, but the pitches aren’t high enough to hit a broad enough population of species sensitive to sound.” After that nearly-obligatory objection, the meeting continued going through reports from each combat team until finally Xiomara announced the end results. “I have to admit, this was one of our best drills yet. Ten percent casualties of the combatants defending the breaches, only two percent among non-combatants, and the invaders were only able to traverse three decks before they were subdued.” She let the cheers go for a couple seconds before getting everyone’s attention again. “Yes, great job on the improvements, but let me remind everyone - those numbers still leave us below threshold for a healthy genetic population. Engineering teams, make the necessary adjustments with whatever resources are necessary. Shelters Three and Seven, you will start training for armed and unarmed combat with Shelter Fourteen and Combat Team Two daily.  Sophia, your team will coordinate schedules. Any questions?”

There were no arguments, not even a groan or mutter as the meeting was dismissed. Before I could even add the new task to my agenda the next day, I received the notification that Alistair had beaten me to the punch.

Glancing at the time, I wanted to hit something.  I had to be back up and at work in four hours, and the realization weighed me down with exhaustion.  The guys had come in and gone to bed while I was in the debrief, and I could already hear synchronized snoring coming from the bedroom.  Rather than risk waking them with my now-frozen feet, I pulled the quilt off the back of my couch and rolled myself into it.  Only minutes later, a heavy weight oozed across my hip and started purring furiously.

“Yeah, buddy. I agree. We need a nap.”

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[stolensiren]

built us a home // marley & cass

TIMING: about a week ago, immediately following this conversation. PARTIES: @stolensiren and @detectivedreameater​ SUMMARY: marley finally gets cass to acknowledge something she's been avoiding. it goes better than either of them probably assumed it would. CONTENT: medical blood (mentioned)

The stairs seemed more daunting than they ought to. Cass wasn’t naive. She knew Marley wanted to talk, knew the talk would probably relate to their conversation about the hunters, about what sort of people they went after. And it wasn’t a talk she particularly wanted to have. But… she wasn’t sure it was one she could avoid, either. Marley was as stubborn as Cass was, after all. And if Cass didn’t go upstairs, she ran the risk of Marley coming down, and she really shouldn’t be moving around much. So, with a sigh, Cass climbed the stairs like an inmate on death row, steeling herself at the door.

She forced herself to relax before she stepped in, flashing Marley a grin that was genuine in spite of the circumstances. “You better not have ordered without me,” she warned. “I have very specific needs when it comes to takeout.” Walking over to the couch, she settled herself down by Marley’s side, picking up the remote and fiddling with the buttons absently. “Do we want a bad movie or a good movie tonight?”

Marley spent a lot of time lately staring at the missing space on her hand where her fingers were supposed to be. She flexed the remaining three often but the pain that came with it was simply a reminder of what wasn’t. She really needed a distraction. She really needed to get off this couch. But she was finding it hard to stand, let alone walk. She had shit she needed to do, like figure out who the hell had taken Erin and why. And where she was. She needed to find her. That just wasn’t possible right now. Right now, she needed to deal with Cass.

The door opened and Marley blinked, looking down at the phone in her hands. At least she’d managed to open the menu so it didn’t look like she’d been doing nothing while she waited. She looked up towards her. “Don’t worry, I decided to be nice and wait for you,” she said, smiling back. She motioned her over. “I’m thinkin’ a bad movie. I could use a good laugh,” she said, holding the phone out to Cass. “What do you think?”

Marley was quiet when Cass entered the apartment, and she found herself pausing at the door for just a moment. It was hard to keep her eyes from darting to Marley’s hand, from zeroing in on the missing fingers there and the quick stab of guilt that came with it. She knew Marley had done what she did to save Cass, and she knew she wouldn’t want her feeling badly about it. The guilt remained, anyway, just as clear as it had when she’d looked down at the body of the man who’d tried to kill her. She shoved it from her mind now, focused on the task at hand instead: picking a bad movie.

“I like bad movies,” she agreed, flashing a grin. “Are we thinking SyFy Original, or more big budget action film that the producers somehow didn’t realize was terrible until it bombed? Because I’ve got loads of suggestions for both queued up on Netflix.” It was a temporary conversation. She knew that. Before long, Marley would bring up the elephant in the room and Cass would find herself dodging it the same way she had with Metzli. And she couldn’t avoid it forever, she knew she couldn’t avoid it forever. But… maybe she could hold it off for a little bit longer if she tried. “What are your feelings on random shirtless scenes? That’s gonna make or break this decision.”

Marley leaned back on the couch, tucking her hand by her leg when she noticed Cass staring at it, too. It was wrapped in gauze and bandages to keep it from getting infected, blue staining the inside of the bandages every few hours. The doctor was supposed to return to sew up the open wound once it was less mangled and more healed, but for now, Marley was left with the awkward stub of her hand, still torn from the explosion of a shotgun bullet. “Whatever we watch, I wanna be so confused the entire time, it feels like we didn’t even watch a movie by the end of it.” She doubted they’d even get to watching the movie, she didn’t see this conversation ending well. But it needed to happen, because what had happened last week was going to happen again.

“Random shirtless scenes are my favorite kind of scenes,” she grinned. She waited for Cass to sit and turn on the TV before sending off their food order. It would come in the middle of the conversation, which might provide at least temporary relief. Taking in a deep breath, Marley prepared herself. There was something like anxiety stirring in her stomach. “So,” she started awkwardly, scratching her neck, “you still doing okay? No one else has tried to come after you?”

It didn’t escape her notice, the way Marley tucked her hand away. She knew Cass better than most, better than Cass had expected her to. She could probably guess everything going through Cass’s mind now, at least to a certain extent. It was both comforting and terrifying, somehow, because sometimes… sometimes, the things that went through Cass’s mind were the sort of things she thought most people might hate her if they knew about. And she wasn’t sure she could stand the idea of Marley hating her. She wasn’t sure she could cope with it. “I’ve got plenty of movies that’ll fit that bill,” she said, clearing her throat with a cough.

“Then we’ll go dumb blockbuster. There’s this one about a sea monster I’ve been dying to watch. It looks absolutely terrible.” She kept her eyes glued on the television as if looking for the film title required a multitude of concentration, as if she couldn’t possibly focus on Marley as she searched for it in the Netflix library. She shifted when Marley spoke, lifting her shoulder and dropping it in a listless shrug. “I’m good,” she replied. “Nobody’s given me any trouble. Everything’s okay.” If she were braver, she’d say no one has any reason to give me trouble, but she knew Marley was looking for an opening here and, selfishly, she didn’t want to give her one. “Ah! Here’s the movie. I can go ahead and play it. We can just pause when the food gets here.” Anything to delay the inevitable a moment longer.

“Thought you might,” Marley replied, leaning forward again to rest her elbows on her knees. It hurt her stomach to stretch back like that for too long. Everything just kinda ached in a dull way no matter what, but there were positions that hurt less than others. And despite all the pain, Marley knew that she’d do it all over exactly the same. Again and again. It was kind of a scary thought, how much she cared for this girl. How much she understood this young girl. Empathy wasn’t something she’d thought herself capable of until a few months ago, and now it was one of the biggest things connecting her to someone. Slowly, she reached out with her good hand and laid it on Cass’s shoulder. “We should talk first,” she stated calmly, trying to keep her voice soft. It was night, which meant her eyes were glowing softly, and she tried her best to keep them soft, too. Sometimes just seeing her like this caused people fear, she didn’t want that with Cass.

“Look, I know you know why I asked you to come up here. And I do wanna watch this movie with you, but I can’t just sit back and ignore this. And neither can you,” she started, turning herself enough on the couch– painfully– to look Cass in the eyes. “It’s dangerous to keep denying it. That–” she choked a little, remembered the first time she’d looked at a hunter the way Cass had. The way she’d begged him to stop, told him she wasn’t what he thought. She was human, she was human. And then the knife had plunged into her chest and blue blood had drained out and she’d screamed. She wasn’t human, and pretending otherwise would just get her killed. She gave Cass a sympathetic sigh. “What happened is going to happen again and you need to be prepared. I told you I’d teach you about this world, and that means teaching you about yourself, too.”

As far as injuries went, Cass knew she’d kind of gotten off easy with hers. Especially compared to Marley, who’d really taken the brunt of things during their fight with the hunters. Her shoulder ached, and she had to be careful not to pull the stitches in her side when she made movements too sudden, but other than that? She was mostly just bruised. So it was hard not to wince a little at the discomfort on Marley’s face as she shifted into a more comfortable position on the sofa, hard not to surge forward and make sure Marley was okay. She managed to hold herself back, but only just.

And then, the other shoe dropped, because it was always going to. Because Marley had only asked Cass to come upstairs so they could have this conversation, because it had been hanging over them since the moment that hunter set his sights on Cass. Marley’s hand on her shoulder, something that would normally comfort her, made her tense now, and she kept her gaze locked on the television screen as if she might be able to lose herself in it if she only tried hard enough. “I’m not denying anything,” she argued, stubborn as ever. “I’m — Look, that stuff with the hunters only happened because I got on their bad side. I pissed them off, right? That’s all it was. I don’t know what you think, but it’s not like that. It isn’t.” There was a desperation to her tone, just as there had been with Metzli, just as there always would be because she didn’t want this. She didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t even want to think it. “I don’t want to do this, Marley. Can we just — Can’t we start the movie?”

This was where they differed, Marley supposed. There had been a sense of relief when Marley had found out she wasn’t human. All the years of being told she was bad and wrong and terrible suddenly made sense. She wasn’t bad, she was just a monster. She was just doing what she was born to do. She’d used that knowledge to justify the things she’d done and the way she was. It’d taken her too long to realize that she wasn’t anything different simply because she wasn’t human. And it took her too long to realize that she wasn’t bad because she wasn’t human. She didn’t want that for Cass, but Cass didn’t want the truth.

“You and I both know that’s not true, Cass,” she said quietly. She noted the tenseness of her muscles and removed her hand, ignoring the pained jab in her chest. “I’m not saying you have to like it, or even accept it at this point, but you do need to acknowledge it. Those hunters were after you and not simply because you stepped in. If that were true, they would’ve come for me, too. And they didn’t.” Marley sighed, rubbing her head. “I know you don’t want to do this, but we have to. I promised I’d keep you safe and I can’t do that if you don’t listen.”

Cass shut her eyes for a moment, squeezing them so tightly shut that it hurt a little bit. It was stupid, she knew, like a child pulling the blanket over their head to hide from the monster under the bed, like the old, childish belief that if you couldn’t see something, it couldn’t hurt you. She knew it wasn’t true. It was the things you didn’t see coming that always hurt the most. And maybe that meant this wouldn’t be so bad, because Marley was right. Cass knew there was more to those hunters than she was admitting to, just like she knew Murphy wasn’t entirely full of shit in that alley. She didn’t want it to be true, but… The world had never been particularly good at giving her what she wanted.

“I pissed them off more,” she insisted, still stubborn, still desperate. “I don’t know, Marley, maybe you just need to step your game up. You’re not as annoying as I am. I’m sorry to be the one to break it to you.” It was supposed to be a joke, supposed to ease the tension, but her voice was too tight to sell it as such. It sounded more like a plea than anything, like a little girl begging for something impossible. “I’m safe. I’m plenty safe. I’m more safe as a human than I would be as anything else, you know.”

Marley wasn’t frustrated, per say, but she was scared. Scared Cass would reject this and reject her. Scared she would get up and walk out and never come back. But she needed to understand that this was the world she lived in now. The world she’d always lived in. Marley wasn’t sure how she’d gone this long without knowing what she was, but people had all different kinds of denial. Kavanagh was one type, the worst type. She wasn’t going to let Cass turn out like that. Marley took in a slow breath and held it a moment, clearing her thoughts.

“Yeah, we did, but hunters don’t go after humans, even if they interfere. It’s against their code or some shit.” The joke fell flat, but Marley didn’t acknowledge it either way. “You’re not safe pretending, Cass. And, surprisingly, you wouldn’t be safe as a human, either. There are way too many species that feed on humans. I’m even one of them. I’m a mara, we cause nightmares in our victims and consume their fear. I’m considered somewhere along the specter lines, so rangers don’t register me on their senses. Nor do Slayers or Wardens. Hunters have to specifically train themselves to sense my species. We’re rare and few between.” Marley hadn’t met many others in her life, she still wasn’t sure she wanted to. “Rangers hunt beasts. If one went after you, that means you’re a shapeshifter of some kind.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest, fast and desperate and terrified. Part of Cass wanted to get up and leave, might have tried it if she weren’t half-certain Marley would have followed her in spite of the fact that she really ought to be confined to the couch for at least another few days. This was a conversation she’d been dreading for a while now, and on some level, she felt guilty for that, too. What did it say to the people around her that she so desperately wanted to be human when most of them weren’t? She’d already hurt Metzli with her insistence that she was a person instead of something supernatural, even if they hadn’t said anything directly. Was she destined to upset Marley the same way? Could she cope with hurting two people so important to her in such quick succession? She honestly wasn’t sure.

“I’m not pretending,” she said quickly, though it sounded less and less like she believed it herself the more she argued. “I know what I am. Okay? I’m human. I — I know that about myself. I should at least know that.” She ran her thumb along the rubber buttons of the remote in her hand, still refusing to look up from the object, still refusing to look Marley in the eye. “If I were a shapeshifter, I’d be able to… shapeshift. That seems like a pretty standard qualifier. And I can’t do that, so…” She trailed off with a dismissive shrug. “I’m just human, Marley. The hunters were confused. They were probably just thrown off or something. I’m not — I know what I am. I know.”

This was turning out to be a bit harder than Marley had hoped, but change– big change– was hard and she knew that. Their whole lives had been dictated by change, there were no constants in the life of a foster kid. It was home after home, place after place, person after person. The one constant they had was themselves. Shattering that illusion for Cassidy would hurt. All of them. Marley wished she could give her what she wanted. She wished she could tell Cass that she was right, that she was just human, that she could be just human and live in the world where there weren’t monsters and hunters and death around every corner. But wishes didn’t come true like that. Even Erin knew that.

“Have you ever tried?” was all Marley asked. “Changing. I know you feel it,” she tapped her own chest, “in here. I felt it, too, as a kid. Had no idea what it meant, but it was instinct. To feed. I was seventeen when I found out what I was. A hell of a long time to go without knowing, and you’re what, twenty? Twenty-one?” She rubbed her palm against her eyes. “Denying this is gonna hurt you and everyone around you more than accepting it will. Trust me, I know how it feels. How it’d just be so much easier to just be human. But easy isn’t always right. You know that,” she pointed out again. She didn’t know how to make Cass look at her. “Cass…I need you to look at me when I say this. It doesn’t matter what you are, okay? You’re still you. You’re still Cassidy. And I will always be here for you. No matter what. I will–” she paused, swallowed– “I will always care about you. So you can be mad at me or blame me, but I won’t let you make the same mistakes I did.” She reached out again, with both hands, placing them on Cass’s shoulders. “I want to give you a better life. But you have to stop hiding.”

Marley was making good points, and Cass wished she weren’t. She wished Marley would say something utterly ridiculous to make it easier to completely deny everything coming out of her mouth, wished she’d start talking nonsense, wished she’d stop saying anything at all. It was funny, Cass thought, in its own way. After a while, you’d think she’d be used to people saying things she didn’t want to hear. It was something she’d been dealing with all her life now, something so frequent that she was surprised, mostly, when someone said something she actually liked. But there were some things you never got used to. This was probably one of them.

“I don’t feel anything.” It was a lie, and it tasted wrong on her tongue because she didn’t want to lie to Marley. “I don’t have any instincts like that.” She tried not to think about the forest, when she’d stumbled upon the human sacrifice, when she’d seen the carnage all laid out at the trunk of the tree and felt something like hunger tugging at her gut. “I’m twenty-two. And I would have known by now. You’re supposed to know what you are by twenty-two. And I do. I keep telling you, I do.” Reluctantly, she tore her gaze away from the remote, looked at Marley instead because Marley asked her to and Cass, in spite of everything, only ever wanted to do what Marley asked. “You’re supposed to know what you are by twenty-two,” she repeated, quieter this time. “Marley, I — I don’t know who I am. You know how it is, in the system. I just… I had to be whoever people wanted me to be so I could stick around, and I don’t know what parts of me are actually me. I don’t know who I am. So I need to know what I am. I need to have that. I need to be human. Please, Marley, I don’t — I don’t want this. I can’t do it.”

It was painful, watching the process across Cass’s face as she tried harder and harder to deny everything. Marley winced in pain, and it wasn’t from her injuries. She felt her eyes stinging and she took a steadying breath. “Please don’t lie to me, Cass,” she said quietly, because it was a lie. A big, fat lie. And if Cass was something that could lose control, it meant she was putting other people at risk, too. Maybe that could break through to her. Marley didn’t want to scare her into accepting anything, but in the end, Marley was a creature of fear, wasn’t she? The best she could do was offer that. “I was lucky to find out what I was,” Marley said quietly, “that early. I really shouldn’t have. It was almost a complete accident. I just happened to find someone like me in the same place I was going to feed.” Marley felt her heart tugging and she had to clench her teeth too keep from making a strangled noise. “Whoever told you you have to know who you are at twenty-two is a fuckin’ liar. You’re still just a kid. Learning to be an adult. I didn’t know who I was at twenty-two. Fuck, I’m still kinda figuring it out. But who you are isn’t what you are. You get to be anybody, no matter what. Growing up the way we did won’t change that, and neither will being supernatural.”

Marley felt like her chest was caving in. She did the only thing she thought she could do. She pulled Cass into her and wrapped her arms around her tightly. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.” She wished she didn’t have to instill the fear of hunters into Cass, but she didn’t know what else to do. “Whether you accept it or not, a hunter won’t care. And I can’t always be there to help you, as much as I want to be. So I need to know you will take care of yourself if that happens and I’m not around.”

It ached, the quiet tone of Marley’s voice. It was the twisting of a knife that had been sitting in her chest for a while now, a blow on a spot already bruised. There was a thickness in her throat, and Cass tried to swallow around it. She wanted to double down, wanted to insist that she was telling the truth, but she didn’t want to lie to Marley again and in the end, that won out and she said nothing instead. She wrung her hands together, blinked a few times to chase away a wetness lurking behind her eyes. “I just… I wanted to have one thing,” she said quietly. “I wanted to have one thing about myself that I knew was true. And that’s — It should have been easy. Most people are human, right? That’s the norm. It should have been easy to have that, but… If I can’t even figure out what I am on my own, what chance do I have here, Marley?” How could she ever know who she was? She was missing so many pieces already, from her parents’ identities to why they’d given her up. How many pieces could she lose before there was nothing left?

Cass let herself collapse into the embrace, let herself bury her head against Marley’s shoulder. It felt good. In spite of everything, in spite of the heaviness, it felt good. “I can take care of myself, Marley. You don’t have to worry about that.” She wanted to use it as an out, wanted to end the conversation right then and there, but she didn’t think Marley would go for it. Marley wanted to keep her safe, no matter how hard Cass made it. And Cass did make it hard, sometimes. She knew that. “How can I… make them stop coming after me?”

Marley felt Cass burrow into the embrace and something else burrowed into her chest. It felt like a warmth she’d never felt before. It made her throat close up a little and her eyes grow wet, and she realized it was the feeling she’d never had for herself. She’d never grieved the human side of herself, because she’d never had time. She’d never had people. She’d never had that part of herself. It had been belittled and destroyed by the time she was four, and never again had Marley wanted that part of herself. Except now. She wished right now she could give Cass the humanity they both wished was possible. “Pajarito,” she started slowly, still holding the girl tightly and making sure the worble in her voice stayed even, “you have so many things that are true about yourself. You’re brave and strong and compassionate. Those are the things that matter most, right?” She wasn’t good at this sort of thing. She was just saying what she’d wished someone else had said to her at this age. “Normal isn’t a real thing,” she went on, “normal is different for everyone. And the good things– the real things– they’re not easy. They’re the things we fight for, the things we’ll do anything for. Those are the good things.” She drew in a deep breath. “You have the greatest chance. You have people.”

She ran her good hand along Cass’s back. A comforting gesture, she hoped. “I do, though,” she mumbled, “I do worry. Let me have that.” Finally, she unwrapped her arms and leaned back, a tad painfully, still staying close. “You can’t, but you can learn how to spot them and how to stay away from them. I’ll show you how.”

Cass never had a family. She had pieces, sometimes, for a few days or a week or a couple months if she was lucky, but it always felt temporary. She’d always known, even when she was chipping off pieces of herself to fit in, that whatever foster home she’d been placed in would send her back the moment something changed. She never let herself get too attached, pretended it made it easier when she was loaded in the back of her case worker’s car with her things stuffed into a duffle bag she’d never bothered unpacking. Cass had never had a family but she imagined if she had, it would have felt a little something like this. She imagined if she had, it would have sounded like the gentle tone Marley used to speak to her or the kind words she said. “It never mattered before,” she said quietly, and she knew Marley would know what she meant, knew Marley had just as much experience being removed from foster homes as she did if not more, knew Marley understood how something like that burrowed into your head and stayed there no matter how many years separated you from it. “I guess… I’m still getting used to having people.” But she was glad that Marley was one of them.

With a watery laugh, Cass nodded. “I guess I can’t really stop you.” And she didn’t really want to. It was kind of nice, having somebody worry about her. It didn’t make her feel guilty anymore. At least, not as much as it had at first. That was a step forward, she figured. She nodded, glancing down. “Okay,” she agreed. There was a pause, a moment where she was silent and considering and uncertain. Looking back up to meet Marley’s eye again, she broke it with a sigh. “Somebody, uh… A werewolf I know told me I’m a… a siren. I thought she was messing with me.” She chewed at her lip for a moment before amending the statement. “I wanted to think she was messing with me. I told myself she was.”

“It matters now,” Marley said as her chest tightened and so did her grip around the younger girl. How many times had Marley thought that, too? That she didn’t matter. She’d never mattered. But she had and she did, and so did Cass, and Marley wasn’t going to let her forget that anytime soon. She’d remind her every day if she had to. “You matter.” Marley didn’t know what family was, what it felt like, what it looked like. She didn’t suppose it was two people and their strange hare with antlers and their tarantula. But maybe it could be her and Cass and all the friends who were trying to help them. All the people who cared about them, too. And maybe, just maybe, Erin. If she was still alive, and Marley had to believe she was. She believed she was. There would be no point faking her death if she was actually dead. She had to be alive. Marley wanted her to be alive so badly. Marley wanted this to be her family so badly. “Well, get used to it. Cause I ain’t goin’ anywhere and I’m pretty damn stubborn, too.”

Marley gave half a smirk and shook her head. “You can’t. Many have tried, all have failed.” Marley felt like a heavy relief lifted from her shoulders when Cass finally agreed, shoulders sagging. “Siren, huh?” she said, leaning forward and digging through some of the things she had on the table. “I’ve known a few sirens in my life,” she said, pulling out a thin book simply titled ‘Shapeshifters’. She held it out to Cass. “Do you uh, know anything about them at all?” she asked. “It’s totally okay if not. I can give you some details. And hey–” she gave her an encouraging smile, as much as her bruised face could give– “it’s okay. I know it’s hard. When I was told what I was, I was in the middle of a cafe with a man I’d just met. I got up and ran out on him without a word because I didn’t want to believe him at first.”

It matters now. Marley said the words with such conviction, such certainty that Cass found she actually believed them in a way she never had before. It mattered, and she mattered, because Marley said so. Because Marley held her tightly, because she gave Cass a place to stay, because she took a shotgun blast to the hand for her. Nobody had ever cared that much before. Before White Crest, she couldn’t have even imagined it. She still didn’t think she’d ever be used to it, but maybe that was okay, too. Maybe it was better not to grow accustomed to it. Maybe it meant it would feel this good every time she was reminded. “I’m really glad you’re stubborn, ‘cause I really like having you around.”

And she’d probably need her around, if she was going to survive all this. If hunters were really impossible to hide from, and if they really were going to start coming after her more frequently, Cass was going to need people who understood how this world worked. She reached out, taking the book Marley offered her hesitantly. “Not really,” she admitted quietly. “The, um… The werewolf told me I’d be able to shapeshift, but I didn’t… feel anything when I tried it. And I only tried it once. I was a little… distracted, I guess.” When the tree man in the woods had hold of her, Cass had fallen back on her more familiar power of persuasion when the brief attempt at shapeshifting failed. “I guess whoever ditched me at the firehouse when I was a baby didn’t think to leave behind a note explaining things. Might’ve been easier if they had, right?” She was staring down at the book, back to not looking at Marley, but she glanced up briefly when the other woman recounted her own story. “When did you know it was true?”

Marley chuckled a little at that. She’d been told so many times in her life that she was stubborn, so stubborn. And it had always been such a negative connotation, a negative trait. And here this girl was, telling Marley she was glad for it. Marley ruffled Cass’s hair and shook her head. “You’re pretty stubborn, too, kid,” she smiled back, tired but real. “Gotta say I like it, too.” And she did. It was a good quality. It was a quality that helped both of them survive their circumstances. It was as good as it was bad.

She was relieved when Cass took the book, sitting back to ease her aching wounds a little more. “Well, might be easier if you understand more about yourself. You uh– you ever see anything funny in the mirror? Say, like, a bird version of yourself?” she asked, raising a brow. A siren’s true nature was revealed in their reflection while using their abilities, so it was likely Cass had seen herself a few times before, but chosen to ignore it. Marley scratched her neck again, thinking on the rest of her words. “Might’ve. No one left a letter for me, either. Guess that’s just a thing shitty parents do. Or…don’t do.” She looked over at Cass and let out a small breath. “It was…a little harder for me to deny the truth. I’m just this, no shapeshifting, no changing. I think I’d known all along I wasn’t exactly human, but being told it outloud was too scary. But the more I ran from it, the less I could deny it. I might look human, but there was nothing else about me that was the same. I don’t need to eat regular food, my eyes glow at night, I can turn invisible, I sense fear, I see people’s nightmares. I’m drawn to horror. I can’t really pretend to be anything else without risking dying. So…it didn’t take me long. Couple of days. But I’d known all along, anyway. Deep inside, I’d always known.”

Cass smiled faintly, ducking her head as Marley ruffled her hair. “You’ve totally got me beat.” Her tone was less tense, though her shoulders were still tight and her chest still ached. The conversation was going better than she’d thought it might, but it still wasn’t one she particularly wanted to have. Cass had been planning to continue denying this for as long as she possibly could, had intended to pretend to know nothing until pretending was no longer an option.

At the question, she exhaled. That was another thing she’d been ignoring for a while now. Most of the time, she just avoided her reflection entirely. When someone pointed it out, like Abigail had at the diner, her fight or flight usually prompted her to choose the latter option. (Maybe there was some irony, she thought, in her tendency to rely on flight as a go-to when things got uncomfortable.) “Maybe… once or twice,” she muttered, reluctant. She shifted, looking uncertain. “I never really thought of mine as shitty,” she admitted. “I guess, on some level, I always thought it was my fault. Something I did. Cried too much or something.” She’d been an infant when they left her, so she’d never known for certain how to blame herself, but it had always seemed easier. If you built your parents up to be good people, you could live in a fantasy world where they’d come back for you someday, where you’d get some storybook ending. It was a naive thing to do, but Cass had clung to it. Maybe she’d still been clinging to it, on some level. “I guess it’s harder to deny when it’s like that.” As if Cass’s nature had been easy to deny. She’d invented a world where she had superpowers, told herself it was something out of a comic book. A radioactive spider. Toxic chemicals. Anything but the truth. She paused for a moment, running her thumb along the spine of the book in her hands. When she spoke again, it was quieter. “When did you feel like you were okay with it?”

“All in due time, little one,” Marley said with a smirk, tapping her thigh with her good hand in a rhythmic pattern. It had always helped calm her down, think straight. Ever since Roy had fucked up her head, she’d had to find tactics that helped her recall things, and helped think through problems. Marley could tell, even through the ease of Cass’s teasing and the tension release in her shoulders, that was still anxious about this conversation. Marley remembered slinking back to Peter days later, arms curled around herself, quietly asking him when he answered the door if he’d help her understand what she was. He’d taken her in without a second thought. He’d also kicked her out without one, too.

Once or twice meant many times, but she’d chosen to ignore it. Marley let out her own sigh, running her good hand through her hair this time. “I spent a long time trying to figure out why mine gave me away, to. I was barely a month old, if what I was told is correct. Not much to blame a baby about that young, so I just always told myself it was cause they just didn’t want me.” Even though that line of thinking had just brought up different questions. “So maybe not shitty, but– it certainly wasn’t your fault. Unless you were some sort of genius baby and you were formulating a plan to take over the world. You’re not doing that, right?” she teased at the end, hoping to keep the conversation more light and less painful. Her smile faded. “It’s hard to deny at all, no matter what. It was just…pretty obvious for me. I couldn’t fake or pretend.” Cass could at least fake eating and gain substance from it. Cass could sleep at night. Cass had normal eyes, even if her reflection was aviary. She thought for a moment. She didn’t want to lie to Cass, but the girl needed to hear something positive here. Marley licked her lips. “When I finally realized…what I am doesn’t dictate who I am. And though that happened just recently for me, cause of people like Erin and you…that doesn’t mean you have to wait that long.”

“All right, no need to get all Yoda on me,” Cass snorted, nudging her shoulder into Marley’s gently. It was nice, in spite of everything, to spend time with Marley. That was probably the only reason why Cass was still here, the only reason she hadn’t shut things down entirely or run away. If anyone else had asked about it, if anyone else had pushed her to talk… Things would be going much differently now. That much had been proven time and time again. With Murphy, with Abigail, even with Metzli.

Of course, the other side of that coin meant that Marley knew Cass well enough to know when she was stretching the truth a little. She shifted avoiding eye contact again at Marley’s sigh. When Marley mentioned her own parents, Cass looked up again briefly, shrugging a shoulder. “That’s what I figured, too.” And her life became a pattern, after that, of people not wanting her. No matter how much she changed herself, no matter how much she tried, she could never be something people wanted around forever. But… Maybe Marley would let her stick around longer than the rest. She chuckled quietly at the question, pretending to ponder it a moment. “I mean, I don’t remember formulating world domination plans, but I also don’t remember much about being a baby, so… Who’s to say?” Her smile softened, and she looked down at the book in her hands, turned it over a time or two. “I don’t know who I am,” she admitted quietly. “I know I’ve said that, but it’s… I spent my whole life being somebody else. And I guess the idea that I’ve spent it being something else, too is just… Really scary. I still don’t know if I’m ready for it.” She didn’t know if she ever would be, if she could be. But… Marley had a point. This wasn’t the kind of thing you could run from. It was literally waiting for her behind every other mirror. “What… uh, what do you know about them? Sirens? Are they… like, bad?”

“Hey, I’m like, way cooler than Yoda,” Marley said, nudging Cass back. The ease with which she felt around Cass was comforting. Marley didn’t often find herself truly comfortable around many people, even if she didn’t act it. Marley hadn’t been taught proper socialization, and even if she had, she was sure she’d never have done it right. She just couldn’t understand it as a mara. She wasn’t human and she couldn’t understand them. Not well enough. “Yoda doesn’t have bitchi’ sunglasses.”

It was a little like looking in the mirror when Marley looked down at Cass. Not vision wise, but personality wise, background wise. Marley saw so much of herself in Cass she was afraid she might give her the wrong idea and Cass would want to be like her. She didn’t want that. Marley wasn’t a good person, she wanted better for Cass. She wanted Cass to be better. Marley was as much of a bad example as she was a mentor. “See? I knew it. At least spare me in your upcoming destruction of the world?” She gave a half smirk, letting out a breath. “I know how frightening it can be, but I promise, it’s gonna be so much better once you’re out the other end. You might not know who you are now, but now is the time to start figuring that out. You know you like comics and helping people and you’re headstrong and you care about others even if you don’t know them. Start there. Work your way up.” She watched her turn the book over. “If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that no species is good or bad, cause shit like that? It’s relative. But, if you mean what I think you do, then no. Siren’s ain’t bad. They’re birds, well bird-like. They have empathic powers and the ability to influence others with their touch. I’m gonna get in contact with some people so I can learn more about this, too. Can’t say I’m a siren expert, but I know a thing or two.”

“You’re not even green,” Cass argued, the barest hint of a smile in her voice. Marley, better than anyone she’d ever known before, had a way of turning Cass’s discomfort into dust, a way of chasing it all away with just a few words or a series of gestures. It was something she’d been looking for all her life, but it wasn’t something she’d ever really expected to find. It certainly wasn’t something she’d expected to find here, in White Crest.

She wished that sense of belonging made any of this easier. She wished knowing that she had people like Marley, Metzli, and the rest of the friends she’d carved out for herself here made her feel less like a jigsaw puzzle missing half its pieces, less like a broken thing with no hope of repair. She wished knowing so many supernatural people with big hearts and admirable lives made the idea that she might not be entirely human, either, an easier one to swallow, but it didn’t. She was still terrified at the mere concept of it, still just as afraid now as she had been the very first time she’d caught a glance of her reflection in the mirror and seen something inhuman staring back at her. “You’ll get a free pass,” she assured Marley, trying to be brave. She was always trying to be brave. She so rarely felt she succeeded at it. “What if it’s not?” The fear was clear in her voice, worry crawling over the words. “What if it’s worse? I don’t — I don’t even know what a siren is. What they do. What if I’m…” She trailed off, uncertain how the sentence was meant to end. What if she was a monster, like that hunter had claimed? Marley said sirens weren’t bad, but couldn’t anything be terrible given half the chance? Cass shifted, shrugging a shoulder hesitantly. “Empathetic powers make sense.” She’d always known exactly what her foster parents wanted her to be, always tried to be it. “Hey, Marley? I, um… Thank you. For helping me with this. I know it’s not — I haven’t been… easy about it.”

“Yeah, and thank god for that,” Marley said, rolling her eyes. She was glad that for the moment Cass seemed to be calming down. Marley had never really been good at comforting people or making hard things easier, softer. Marley was hard, she had been her whole life. She had to be, in order to survive. She had to be, and it had made her hard, but there were people like Cass and Erin and Vic who made Marley feel less hard. She wanted to be less hard for them. “I do not look good in green.”

Marley sighed again, rubbing her eyes. She didn’t know how to make anyone feel better, and sometimes she felt as if she were stumbling around blindly trying to figure it out, making things worse. Like she always had. But she wanted to be better. She needed to be better. “I’m honored,” she said with a grin, but Marley could see that Cass was wavering, trying to hold strong. Marley wished she could reassure her she didn’t have to bem but with the way they grew up, she knew that words would never be enough, even from someone like her. So Marley would just have to prove it to her. She would prove it every day. “A Siren is just another species of shapeshifter, that’s all. It’s no worse than a balam or a werewolf. Maybe even better because you can control yourself and eventually your shift.” But Marley knew what word Cass couldn’t say, she’d been calling herself one almost her entire life. Marley looked down. “Monsters aren’t species, Cass. They’re people. It takes a lot more than just not being human to be a monster.” She reached up and poked the girl’s chest. “And you– you’re not a monster. You never could be. Trust me, I know. I see monsters in people’s nightmares every time I feed.” She relaxed a bit more, leaning back on the couch. “You ain’t gotta thank me for that. Ever. Okay? You don’t have to be easy about it. This shit is big, heavy– you’re allowed to be conflicted and upset. I just want you to…be who you wanna be. Feel whatever you want to feel. I’ll figure out the rest, okay?”

“I don’t know, you might be able to pull it off.” She wanted to ask if there was anything supernatural that was green like that, wanted to ask more questions to take the attention off the conversation they were having, wanted to set her sights on things easier to swallow. It was so much simpler to talk about other people here, to discuss Marley’s blue blood or Bex’s magic or Metzli’s vampirism. Cass had always found it difficult to talk about herself. That was part of the problem, she suspected. That was part of why it had taken this long to even voice things aloud.

Marley knew what she was thinking without her having to say it and, again, Cass both loved and hated that. It might have been nice to keep a few secrets close to her chest, might have been nice to wonder things on her own without having them answered right away. “So I’m supposed to… turn into a bird? Eventually?” It sounded like a fairytale, but so did most of what she’d seen in White Crest. So did the superpowers she’d invented for herself, the costume Metzli had made for her. There was no such thing as a fairytale in a place like this. Here, all the stories were true. There was a certain degree of terror that came with that. “Anyone could be a monster,” she pointed out quietly, “under the right circumstances.” She’d seen that for herself, a thousand times over. “What if… What if I don’t know what I want?” Because she didn’t. She never had. She’d never had the chance to explore it, not really.

“Think if I was green I’d look more like the Wicked Witch,” Marley said, then paused, “then again, she was one of my heroes growing up. Maybe we are onto something.” She knew the conversation was to avoid the topic, but it was also to ease the tension. It was something Marley needed, too. If she was too tense, she might focus too much on Cass’s fear and instead of quelling it, exacerbate it. She didn’t want that. For once, she didn’t want that.

“Well, not really a bird, but like a bird-like creature,” she corrected, pointing to the book. “Should be some pics in there if you’re curious, though I’m pretty sure each siren looks different depending on the kinda bird they are. And you can shift back, to looking like this. It’s not permanent, promise.” The room grew quiet, but not tense. Marley knew what words were coming next, because she’d said them herself a million times. She didn’t have to reply to know that Cass knew she understood. They’d both seen monsters in their lives, too many times. And now Marley had made it her mission to fight back against them, even if she was one herself. Dull eyes looked over at Cass. “That’s okay, too. It ain’t a race. Take your time. And like I said, till then, I got you.” It was quiet a beat more before Marley reached back out and lowered the book in Cass’s hands. “What do you say we bookmark this for now, yeah? I’m ready to eat some popcorn and watch this movie.”

“At least you’d have a musical about you,” Cass replied, and her heartbeat was a little calmer now, the oxygen flowing to her lungs with a little more ease. She looked down at the book, resolved herself to actually read it even though she knew she wasn’t going to like what it said. It was better to know, she thought. Even if it made her hate every piece of herself, it was better to know. “Maybe I’ll learn how to fly. Like Supergirl.” She didn’t know why her chest ached at the thought of it, didn’t know why she still felt like she wanted to run as far from this as she could. Maybe that was part of it. Maybe that was part of her. Maybe it always would be. Leaning over, Cass rested her head on Marley’s shoulder and let the book sit forgotten in her lap. She picked up the remote instead, fiddling with the buttons for a moment before giggling quietly under her breath. “You’re gonna hate this movie so much,” she told Marley gleefully, pressing play.

Being different could be worse, she figured. At least she was in good company.

[eerythingisshaka]

PTA III

[Trevante Rhodes x Reader]

Word Count: 2.2K

Summer had come and gone in the blink of an eye yet felt as long as finals week when you were earning your teaching degree.  School ended last quarter with a clumsy splat seeing as the first wave of virus knocked everything out of order very quick. You stressed out running lessons to the school for kids to pick up and working with families with limited to no internet access pulled your patience to its thinnest layer.

So when all had officially finished, you had to take the time to yourself as best as you could.  In a normal summer, you would plan a getaway to just about anywhere you hadn’t seen before and the more solo the better.  Sipping something alcoholic in a warm climate with the Sun toasting your skin to its peak melanated beauty was all you would need to pack you full of endorphins that could last you into the next year.

But that wasn’t the plan now.  Travel restrictions keep you from going out of town and you can’t even get a decent dinner anymore seeing as most restaurants are dine out only.  The only silver lining you can muster is the mask mandates allowing you to keep from smiling at strangers in awkward politeness when they get in your way.  It is a layer of protection for your sanity and solitude.  

However that wasn’t the only silver lining you have from the summer.  Mr. Rhodes, or Trevante as he has to still remind you, became very generous with his time with you outside of the classroom.  As much as you try to keep things professional for your jobs sake, he won’t let you be for any little thing.  Your email has message after message from him asking about simple math for everyday things that apparently Nemour needed refreshing on, followed by a ‘so how you been doing?’

Email 1

“Dear Ms. (Y/N), I am contacting you in regards to my son, Nemour.  While in the grocery today, we came across a sale for oranges, 3lb. for $5.  But then this other store has 5 lb. for $6.  Now he is itching to know what price would be the better one to go for?”

Your response:

“Dear Mr. Rhodes,  Although my primary concentration is History, you can tell Nemour that he should go for the second deal with 5lb.”

“Perfect, that’s why you’re the teacher!  So...how’ve you been?”

Sometimes you reply, and sometimes you leave him on read, it depends on how conversational you feel.  But as time progressed, you got excited to see his emails asking to remind him what the 3 branches of government are or what amendment means what?  He even got you on video chat to discuss.

“What?!  So slavery isn’t really abolished on that bullshit?”  Trevante exclaims in awe.

You throw your hands up, aghast as if you just learned it yourself.  “That’s the thing about American government.  They will throw a loophole where you least expect it and throw a parade like the shit ain’t bout to pop out.”

“Damn!  That’s like some Trojan horse shit honestly,”  he shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer.

You snap your finger, “Exactly, my man, exactly!  That’s why nobody can agree on anything worth a damn.  There’s gonna be a clause somewhere that adds some shit that makes the whole thing rotten. But you didn’t hear it from me, so don’t let Nemour know I’m saying this kind of stuff.”

He twists his face in confusion.  “Why wouldn’t I?  My son got a right to know about what this country is founded on.  Everyone does.”

“Yeah I know.  Just...when topics like these pop up it’s difficult to keep it all…” your voice trails off as you search your bedroom for the words you are looking for.

“Politically Incorrect?”  he offers.

You nod a little.  “Kinda, yeah.”

He sets down his beer, sitting a little closer to the screen.  “You shouldn’t have to worry about that.  History is literally set in stone.  If we didn’t have it, we wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves now.”

“Do we know what to do now though?”  you ask in a higher pitch, squinting like you stepped in hot coals.

Trevante took a minute looking at you before dipping his head down to chuckle.  You could hear the pounding baritone in his chest from your speakers.

“What?  What’s that about?”  you ask.

He sits up again, stroking his beard, “It’s cute when you make your face like that.  That’s all.”

You roll your eyes, pulling your scarf further down your forehead to make up for slipping.  

Trevante tuts at you.  “I need a bucket or something to catch these compliments you keep throwing away that I toss at you.  You don’t believe me or what?”

You give a very dignified look, “I believe I am beautiful.  I just don’t believe in entertaining a parent, is all.”

Trevante sighs.  “Summer don’t count (y/n).  You’re not his teacher now so what’s the issue?”

You look off to the side and back at him.  The crisp white t shirt he has on is obstructing more of the view of his body then you care for but the tightness at the sleeve around his bicep makes up for what you know is already there.

“Hello?”  he says.

You blink a few times, crossing your arms.  “Hm?”

“You go off into space a lot too.  What’s on your mind when you do that?”

His arms around your waist that tightly bind you to his body as you inhale his sweet cologne that is perfectly distributed from his neck to chest.

You scratch your neck, and tell a half lie.  “Oh, just this new school year.”

“See this is a perk of having a teacher friend.  Fill me in, what’s up?”

“Well, all I have right now is that we are doing hybrid learning, so some classes at the school and some at home.  Now the district just need to provide the materials for the kids to be able to do that.  The internet, the laptop/tablets, and make sure we can all connect and no one is behind on lessons.  And since I am on the front line, I have to get creative with the lesson plans and keep people on task and on time.”

Trevante nods.  “Well me and Nemour are excited to see what you have for us next year, whatever it is.”

You smirk at the encouragement.  “Thank you Tre, but I can’t guarantee we will be together for the next school year.  That’s decided at random.  Plus the grade he is in next year is the last one I teach.”

“Nah, we gonna be in there.  If I have to sign a petition or boycott like these hot breathed whites out here not wearing masks, we will be in your class this fall.”

You bust out laughing at his determination.  “Dang, Tre!  Don’t go starting a ruckus up there cuz of me!  He will still be taught well, whoever he has a teacher.”

He makes a cut it motion across his neck.  “Nah, we only rock with the best and that’s you up there.  I will make all the, what you call it?  Ruckus?  That shit!  So I will be seeing you first day in the fall, ok?”

You feel heat spread over your skin from shyness.  His brash attitude comes out and makes you feel like a superstar.  “Ok, I’ll hold you to it.  How’s Nemour doing anyway?”

Trevante nods, picking up his laptop as he changes rooms.  “He is doing well, being a regular kid.  Playing and doing his chores.”

You nod.  “Great!”

He closes a door behind him as he lays the laptop down, you can tell he is laying across his bed on his stomach as he speaks.

“He has been asking me a lot more questions about police and like, if they stop me or him, what’s gonna happen and what do we do?  Should we run away?  Can we not live by cops, stuff like that.”

You heart breaks hearing this. “Wow, and this is coming from a child?”

He nods, resting his chin on his forearm.  “It’s part my fault.  I’m always looking at the news and if he sitting at the table eating breakfast or whatever, he’s gonna see it.  I cut it off when they show bodycam footage though cuz that is nothing but toxic.”

“I can’t count how many times I had to see them replay that man dying in the street.  And in front of people watching, they don’t care who is watching cuz what can you do?  You can’t interfere or that’s a charge on you but he could’ve lived.”

Trevante looks spaced out for a second hearing this.  “I know, and that’s why it’s hard explaining to Nemour what everything is about.  I give him the basics though:  Do what the officer says, don’t argue, and don’t get into shit that’s gonna get the cops called  on you either.  But it sounds played out to even say.  What did everybody else do that’s dead now?”

“Nothing.  Sleep in their bed, going to the store, jogging.  Not a damn thing that warranted a bullet.”

Trevante gives a small shrug, looking sad like he is staring at his reflection in a pond.  “Yeah, so he been grappling with that and that’s a lot for a kid his age.  That’s why I want him to be your student still too cuz you’re one of the only Black teachers there and I honestly think he is uncomfortable with white people right now.  We went to the store the other day and he calls himself protecting me saying if the man getting bread bothers me, he put on his little Timbs so he can stomp him for me.”

You gasp at the thought, giving a weak smile.  “I mean, that would go viral for some child to curb stomp a big old white dude.”

Tre smiled some too.  “I think Nemour was this close to saying ‘Don’t worry bout it sweetheart.’  I can’t let him look at no internet again.”

You put your foot up and say, “He finna give him that SPLAHH!”

Trevante laughs heartily, wiping his eyes, “You more hip than I thought too.”

“I had some wine earlier, so that might’ve helped.”  You put a finger to your mouth and pull up the glass from the nightstand.  

“Oh shit!  So this is Turnt Teacher!  Go head then, don’t let me stop you”

You wave him off.  “You aren’t stopping anything.  If nothing else, you keeping me going.  All this house shit is working my last nerve, it’s nice to see a familiar face every once in a while.”

“I think so too.  You’ve been a great addition to some weeknights this summer.”

You put a thumbs up as you sip your wine.  “Are we still doing a movie tonight?  I think it’s my turn to pick.”

Trevante curls up a lip.  “Nah, I don’t think so.”

Your heart sank a little, already having queued up a selection to watch.  “That’s ok, it is late.”

“Yeah, but really I wanna see you in person.”

Your body tensed at the invitation.  Thinking over the last few months of chatting, he has warmed up to you as an individual, but you aren’t sure if that feeling can translate outside of a screen.  Behind the camera it’s safe, you can be cute and mysterious but vulnerable and clumsy and it all comes up roses for him.  In person, cute and mysterious can seem pretentious and vulnerable and clumsy could just be a weirdo geek to him.

“Well,” you start, “I would but...you know this...pandemic is just…”

“I know,” he says.

“...awful, right?  So I just don’t think I can comfortably do that...now?”

Trevante thinks for a second.  “We can stay within the parameters of the guidelines though right?  Six feet, masks, no crowded space.  If you want, we can do that.  I just…” he sighs heavily, looking tired as he rubs his eyes, “...I have been getting stir crazy and you are the main one I have been keeping contact with outside of family, yet I only spent time in person on Valentine’s Day that one meeting we had.  And you had a date later!”

You laugh at him, remembering their first meeting that could’ve been an email no doubt.

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

“Do you wanna go out with me?  Be honest!”

“Tre, I told you-”

“See?  You even call me Tre now.  We familiar right?  I don’t usually have to beg like this but ma’am, you almost got me on bended knee!”

“Uh…”  you start to feel bad but your mouth stops working under pressure.

“Six feet,” he reminds you.  If nothing else, that makes you less inclined to want to go because what can you do?  No kissing that’s for sure.

“I don’t want to confuse Nemour,”  you rebuttal.

“He will be watched by a guardian, trust me.  He won’t be cramping out grown folks business.”

You feel a flutter in your stomach that fuels your excitement.  A plan to go out, with a man no less!  This could turn the summer around or be a disaster on the horizon.

“Don’t overthink it.  You’re a smart woman, but I don’t want you to overcalculate this.  You wanna see me, I wanna see you.  We’ll play it safe, and finally see each other in some natural light.”

You nod slowly, a smile creeps across your face as his argument finally sways you.  “Ok, I’m in.  Pick the time and place.”

Tag you!

@chaneajoyyy​

[letterboxd]

Best of SXSW 2021.

From properly good Covid comedies to an epic folk-horror doc and an Indigenous feminist Western, the Letterboxd Festiville team reveals their ten best of SXSW Online.

We dug out old lanyards to wear around the house, and imagined ourselves queuing up the block from The Ritz (RIP). We dialled into screenings and panels, and did our level best to channel that manic “South By” energy from our living rooms.

The SXSW festival atmosphere was muted, and that’s to be expected. But the films themselves? Gems, so many gems, whether shot in a fortnight on the smell of an oily stimulus check, or painstakingly rotoscoped over seven years.

When we asked SXSW Film director Janet Pierson what she and her team were looking for this year, she told us: “We’re always looking for films that do a lot with little, that are ingenious, and pure talent, and discovery, and being surprised. We’re just looking for really good stories with good emotional resonance.” If there was one common denominator we noticed across this year’s SXSW picks, it was a smart, tender injection of comedy into stories about trauma, grief, unwanted pregnancy, chronic health conditions, homelessness, homophobia and, yes, Covid.

It’s hard to pick favorites, but here are the ten SXSW features and two short films we haven’t stopped thinking about, in no particular order.

Recovery Directed by Mallory Everton and Stephen Meek, written by Everton and Whitney Call

“Covid 19 is in charge now” might be the most hauntingly funny line in a SXSW film. In Recovery, two sisters set out on a haywire road trip to rescue their grandmother from her nursing home in the wake of a severe Covid 19 outbreak. There’s no random villain or threat, because isn’t being forced to exist during a pandemic enough of a threat in itself? If ever we were worried about “Covid comedies”, SXSW managed to flush out the good ones. (Read about the Festiville team’s other favorite Covid-inflected comedies, including an interview with the directors of I’m Fine (Thanks for Asking).)

Alex Marzona praises the “off-the-charts chemistry” between leads Mallory Everton and Whitney Call. Best friends since they were nine, the pair also wrote the film, with Everton co-directing with Stephen Meek. Every laugh comes from your gut and feels like something only the cast and crew would usually be privy to. “You can tell a lot of the content is improvised, which just attests to their talent,” writes Emma. Recovery doesn’t make you laugh awkwardly about how awful the last year has been—rather, it reminds you that even in such times there are still laughs to be had, trips to be taken, family worth uprooting everything for. Just make sure you’ve packed enough wet wipes for the road, and think long and hard about who should babysit your mice. —EK

The Spine of Night Written and directed by Morgan Galen King and Philip Gelatt

Don’t get too attached to any characters from its star-studded cast—nobody is safe (or fully-clothed) in The Spine of Night’s raw, ultra-violent and cynical world. Conjured over the last seven years, directors Philip Gelatt and Morgan Galen King’s rotoscoped epic recaptures the dazzling imagination and scope of their influences Ralph Bakshi and Heavy Metal. Approaching an anthology-style structure to explore how ‘absolute power corrupts absolutely’—a proverb more potent now than when Gelatt and King began their project—the film packs a franchise’s worth of ideas in its 90-minute runtime. Though the storytelling justifiably proves itself overly dense for some, it will find the audience it’s after, as other Letterboxd members have declared it “a rare treat” and “a breath of fresh air in the feature-length animation scene”. For sure, The Spine of Night can join Sundance premieres Flee and Cryptozoo in what’s already a compelling year for unique two-dimensional animation. —JM

Kambole Campbell caught up with Gelatt and King (who are also Letterboxd members!) during SXSW to talk about animation inspirations and rotoscoping techniques.

The Drover’s Wife: The Legend of Molly Johnson Written and directed by Leah Purcell

Snakes, steers and scoundrels beware! Writer-director-star Leah Purcell ably repurposes the Western genre for Aboriginal and female voices in The Drover’s Wife. Molly Johnson is a crack-shot anti-heroine for the ages, in this decolonized reimagining of a classic 1892 short story by Henry Lawson. And by reimagining, we mean a seismic shift in the narrative: Purcell has fleshed out a full story of a mother-of-four, pregnant with her fifth, a missing husband, predatory neighbors, a mysterious runaway and a young English couple on different paths to progress in this remote Southern land. Purcell first adapted this story for the stage, then as published fiction; she rightly takes the leading role in the screen version, too.

As a debut feature director, Purcell (Goa-Gunggari-Wakka Wakka Murri) already has a firm grip on the macabre and the menacing, not shying away from violence, but making very careful decisions about what needs to be depicted, given all that Molly Johnson and her family are subjected to. She also sneaks in mystic touches, and a hint of romance (local heartthrob Rob Collins can take us on a walk to where the Snowy widens to see blooming wildflowers anytime). Judging by early Letterboxd reviews, it’s not for everyone, but this is Australian colonization through an Indigenous feminist’s eyes, with a fierce, intersectional pay-off. “Extremely similar to a vast majority of the issues and themes explored in The Nightingale,” writes Claira. “I’m slowly realizing that my favorite type of Westerns are Australian.” —LK, GG

Swan Song Written and directed by Todd Stephens

Udo Kier is often the bridesmaid, rarely the bride. Now, after a lifetime of supporting roles ranging from vampires and villains to art-house muse, he finally gets to shine center-stage in Swan Song. Kier dazzles as a coiffure soothsayer in this lyrical pageant to the passage of queer times in backwater Sandusky, Ohio. “He is absolutely wonderful here,” writes Adrianna, “digging deep and pulling out a mesmerizing, deeply affecting and emotionally textured performance, proving that he’s an actor with much more range than people give him credit for.”

A strong supporting cast all have melancholy moments to shine, with Linda Evans (Dynasty), Michael Urie (Ugly Betty) and Jennifer Coolidge (Legally Blonde) along for the stroll. Surreal camp touches add joy (that chandelier, the needle drop!) but by the end, the tears roll (both of joy and sadness). Writer-director Todd Stephens ties up his Sandusky trilogy in this hometown homage, a career peak for both him and Kier. Robert Daniels puts it well, writing that Swan Song is “campy as hell, but it’s also a heartfelt LGBTQ story about lost lovers and friends, vibrant memories and the final passage of a colorful life.” —LK

Leo Koziol spoke with Todd Stephens and Udo Kier during SXSW about Grace Jones, David Bowie and dancing with yourself.

Islands Written and directed by Martin Edralin

Islands is a Mike Leigh-esque story that presents a Canadian Filipino immigrant family full of quirk and character, centered around Joshua, a reticent 50-year-old homebody son. The story drifts in and out of a deep well of sadness. Moments of lightness and familial love make the journey worthwhile. “A film so Filipino a main plot device is line-dancing,” writes Karl. “Islands is an incredibly empathetic film about what it’s like to feel unmoored from comfort. It’s distinctly Filipino and deals with the psychology of Asian culture in a way that feels both profound and oddly comforting.” In a year in which we’ve all been forced to physically slow down, Islands “shows us how slow life can be,” writes Justin, “and how important it is to be okay with that.” Rogelio Balagtas’s performance as Joshua—a first-time leading role—won him the SXSW Grand Jury Award for Breakthrough Performance. —LK

Ninjababy Directed by Yngvild Sve Flikke, written by Flikke with Johan Fasting and Inga H. Sætre

Ninjababy is as ridiculous as its title. When 23-year-old Rakel finds herself accidentally pregnant, scheduling an abortion is a no-brainer. But she’s way too far along, she’s informed, so she’s going to have to have the baby. The ensuing meltdown might have been heartbreaking if the film wasn’t so damn funny. Ninjababy draws on the comforting and familiar (“Lizzie McGuire if she was a pregnant young adult,” writes Nick), while mixing shock with originality (Erica Richards notices “a few aggressive and vulgar moments [but] somehow none of it seemed misplaced”).

An animated fetus in the style of Rakel’s own drawings appears to beg and shame Rakel into motherhood while she fights to hold onto her confidence that not wanting to be a mother doesn’t make her a bad person. Ninjababy’s greatest feat is its willingness to delve into that complication: yes, it’s righteous and feminist and 21st-century to claim your own body and life, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy to turn away from something growing inside of you. It’s a comedy about shame, art, finding care in unlikely places—and there’s something in it for the gents, too. The titular ninjababy wouldn’t leave Rakel alone, and it’s unlikely to leave you either. Winner of the SXSW Global Audience Award. —SH

The Fallout Written and directed by Megan Park

Canadian actress Megan Park brought the youthful wisdom of her days on the teen drama series The Secret Life of the American Teenager to her first project behind the camera, and it paid off. Following the scattered after-effects of a school shooting, The Fallout may be the most acute, empathetic depiction of childhood trauma on screen in recent memory. “It sneaks up on you with its honesty and how it spends time with its lead, carried so beautifully by Jenna Ortega. Even the more conventional moments are poignant because of context,” writes Kevin L. Lee. Much of that “sneaky” honesty emerges as humor—despite the heavy premise, moments of hilarity hang on the edges of almost every scene. And Ortega’s portrayal of sweet-but-angsty Vada brings self-awareness to that humor, like when Vada’s avoidant, inappropriate jokes with her therapist reveal her desperation, but they garner genuine laughs nonetheless.

In this debut, Park shows an unmatched understanding of non-linear ways that young people process their pain. Sometimes kids try drugs! Sometimes they scream at their parents! But more often than not, they really do know what they want, who loves them, and how much time they need to grieve (see also: Jessie Barr’s Sophie Jones, starring her cousin Jessica Barr, out now on VOD and in theaters). The Fallout forsakes melodrama to embrace confusion, ambiguity and joy. Winner of both the SXSW Grand Jury and Audience Narrative Feature Awards, and the Brightcove Illumination Award. —SH

Ludi Directed by Edson Jean, written by Jean and Joshua Jean-Baptiste

When Ludi begins, it’s quiet and dreamy. The film’s opening moments conjure the simple pleasures of the titular character’s Haitian heritage: the music, the colors, the people. Ludi (Shein Monpremier) smiles to herself as she starts her morning with a tape recording her cousin mailed from Haiti to Miami, and listens as her family members laugh through their troubles before recording an upbeat tape of her own. But that’s where the dreaminess ends—Ludi is an overworked, underpaid nurse picking up every shift she possibly can in order to send money home. Writer-director Edson Jean fixates on the pains and consequences of Ludi’s relentless determination, which comes to a head when she moonlights as a private nurse for an old man who doesn’t want her there.

Ashton Kinley notes how the film “doesn’t overly dramatize or pull at false emotional strings to make its weight felt. The second half of the feature really allows all of that to shine, as the film becomes a tender and empathetic two-hander.” George’s (Alan Myles Heyman) resentment of his own aging body steps in as Ludi’s antagonist. Jean throws together jarring contrasts: George throwing Ludi out of the bathroom, followed by Ludi’s memories of home, followed by another lashing out, followed by a shared prayer. The tension is unsustainable. By interspersing the back-breaking predicament of a working-class immigrant with the sights and sounds of the Caribbean, Ludi elegantly, painfully reveals what the cost of a dream can be. —SH

Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched: A History of Folk Horror Written and directed by Kier-La Janisse

Building on the folk horror resurgence of films like The Witch and Midsommar, Kier-La Janisse’s 193-minute documentary Woodlands Dark and Days Bewitched is a colossal, staggering undertaking that should school even the most seasoned of horror buffs. “Thorough is an understatement,” says Claira.

Combining a historian’s studied, holistic patience with a cinephile’s rabid, insatiable thirst, the film, through the course of six chapters, broadens textbook British definitions, draws trenchant socio-political and thematic connections, debunks myths and transports viewers to far-flung parts of the globe in a way that almost feels anthropological. As Jordan writes, “Three hours later and my mind is racing between philosophical questions about the state of hauntology we generationally entrap ourselves in, wanting to buy every single one of the 100+ films referenced here, and being just a bit in awe of Janisse’s truly breathless work.” An encyclopedic forest worth losing yourself in—get ready for those watchlists to balloon. Winner of the SXSW Midnighters Audience Award. —AY

Introducing, Selma Blair Directed by Rachel Fleit

There’ll likely be some level of hype when this intimate collaboration between actress Selma Blair and filmmaker Rachel Fleit comes out later in the year on Discovery+, and that’s okay, because that is Blair’s intention in sharing the details of her stem-cell transplant for multiple sclerosis. There’d be little point in going there if you are not prepared to really go there, and Introducing, Selma Blair is a tics-and-all journey not just into what life is like with a chronic condition, a young son, and a career that relies on one’s ability to keep a straight face. It’s also an examination of the scar tissue of childhood, the things we are told by our parents, the ideas we come to believe about ourselves. “I almost felt like I shouldn’t have such intimate access to some of the footage in this documentary,” writes Andy Yen. “Bravo to Selma for allowing the filmmakers to show some truly raw and soul-bearing videos about her battle with multiple sclerosis that make us feel as if we are as close to her as family.” —GG

Femme Directed by Sam H. Freeman and Ng Choon Ping

I May Destroy You fans, rejoice: Paapa Essiedu, who played Arabella’s fascinating best friend Kwame, takes center stage in Sam H. Freeman and Ng Choon Ping’s intoxicating short film Femme. It’s a simple premise—Jordan, a femme gay man, follows his drug dealer (Harris Dickinson, mastering the sexually repressed brusque young man like no one else) home to pick up some goods on a night out. Except, of course, it’s not that simple. The co-directors build a world of danger, tension and electricity, with lusciously lensed scenes that lose focus as the threat rises. Frankie calls it “hypnotizing and brutal and gorgeous” and we couldn’t agree more. A crime thriller wrestling with hyper-masculinity seen through the eyes of an LGBTQ+ character, with a sucker-punch ending to boot, the world needs more than twenty minutes of this story. —EK

Play It Safe Directed by Mitch Kalisa

If you (unwisely) thought that the vulnerable, progressive environment of drama school would be a safe space for Black students, Play It Safe confirms that even a liberal bunch of actors (and their teacher) are capable of being blind to their own egregiously racist microagressions. Mitch Kalisa’s excellent short film explores structural prejudice head-on, in an electric acting exercise that rests on where the kinetic, gritty 16mm camera is pointing at every pivotal turn. At first, we’re with Black drama student Jonathan Ajayi as he receives the assignment; then we are with the rest of the class, exactly where we need to be. “Literally in your face and absolutely breathtaking,” writes Nia. A deserving winner of the SXSW Grand Jury and Audience narrative shorts prizes. —GG

Follow the Festiville team on Letterboxd

[jemej3m]

Please please keep writing that radio host Andreil fic. It was so amazing already thank you

you demand and i supply lmao (slight nswfish warning? lol its just mentioned in passing yall know my ace ass is no good with that)

here’s p.1

*

Andrew didn’t want to come across as eager, but -

Talking with Neil had felt natural. Too natural. And thrilling. God, Andrew didn’t realise his heart could still go that fast. The idea of the music accidentally being cut and his voice being projected out into the world created a false sense of enthrallment that had his pulse stuttering.

Andrew’s fingers itched for his phone as he drove home the next day. How old was Neil? What did he look like? How’d he find himself hosting a midnight show on a shitty Colombian radio station? He seemed like such an enigma, too big for this awfully tiny place.

The way Andrew was waxing about him was foreign and disturbing. He’d never met this man: He had no clue what he looked like, who he was outside of his work, what kind of morals he had.

Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was just his damned voice.

Either way, Andrew found himself calling the same number, all over again. The phone balanced on his knee as he drove.

“It’s Neil from Mid-Nights, what are your thoughts on the rise in crime in Columbia?”

“Any interesting opinions, as of yet?” Andrew inquired, both genuinely curious (something he wasn’t familiar with) and superficially bored.

“None, as of yet.” The presenter answered.

“Shame.” Andrew drawled.

“I recognise this voice.” Neil answered. “You called me last night, didn’t you? Andrew. I remember.”

“Well done.” Andrew said, letting his tone fall flat. “Would you like an award?”

Neil snorted. “I’d like for callers to remain on topic whilst using up a line, but we can’t all get what we want. We can talk for another two minutes, but it’ll cost you a genuine opinion.”

“Fine.” Andrew grunted. “An ideal government would strive for balanced reputation in order to achieve equitable living standards for its citizens. When everything is balanced, there’s no need for crime.”

“Well - ” Neil coughed. “Theoretically.”

“Theoretically.” Andrew echoed.

“What, was that your thesis?”

“I have a doctorate in communications and criminology, so, pretty much.”

“The hell you doing, driving home at this hour every night with qualifications like that?” Neil asked, almost gentle.

Andrew hated the idea that this stranger pitied him. It made his skin feel too tight, made his body pull taut with tension as his teeth ground together. That was none of Neil’s business, and Andrew thought he should know. “You should get off your fucking high horse, Midnighter. You’re no better than me.” Hanging up was satisfying, but Andrew still felt a little hollow.

He didn’t need random radio presenters reminding him of his shortcomings. He had his family for that.

Neil’s music continued to play softly in the background. Another playlist worthy track. Petty and bitter, Andrew ignored it and shoved his fist into the radio’s controls, turning off the station entirely.

*

Neil leant into the microphone and hoped Andrew could hear his grin.

“To the man who hung up on me last night, fuck you too.” Neil’s voice was too playful to be interpreted as serious. Or so he hoped. “My high-horse had its legs chopped off years ago. I was complimenting you, asshole.”

No one would understand him, but it was alright. He was known for angering people.

Half an hour later, as though Andrew had remained in the driveway listening to the show and deciding whether or not to call up, the phone began to rang. Neil picked it up - too enthusiastically, really - and brought it to his ear.

“It’s Neil from Mid-Nights, how are you?”

“Jack-ass.” Andrew answered. “I don’t need no compliments. Stick to what you’re good at: Being an asshole.”

The dial-tone of being hung-up on (again) made Neil grin.

*

It’d been two weeks. Andrew had run through most of his call credit, seeing as he rarely used it in the first place. The conversations were never longer than a few minutes, but the fragmented moments strung together and formed something so rare, so niche, that Andrew had to wonder at himself: What in fuck’s name did he think he was doing?

“I hope this’ll help wake you all from your long-drive stupors.” Neil’s voice, deceptively sweet, laughed into the microphone. “Nothing like some solid distortion solos to get you feeling alive. Oh, and I’m expecting a call. You know who you are.”

“Asshole.” Andrew grunted, cocking his head to the side as he pulled up at a red light. 

Black in Black started blasting from his speakers, unintentionally. Andrew scoffed, squashing down the remnants of his grin, and rolled down the windows. 

He didn’t call Neil till the song had faded into something along the lines of Elton John, not wanting to give Neil the satisfaction of being at his beck and call. 

Neil paid him back the favour, almost letting the call ring out before snatching up the line on its last breath. 

“You’re getting stingy.” Neil complained. “I figured out you get off shift at three. Why the half an hour of time wasted?”

“Making you wait is half the fun.” Andrew rolled his eyes. “Don’t be a creep and go working out my schedule with too little knowledge and too good perceptions. It’s weird.”

“Observations keep me alive and kicking. You like my song choice?”

Neil queued another two songs after Bennie and the Jets so they could talk and Andrew didn’t even mind. He was sure he’d never willingly spent this much time with even his own family.

“You know,” Neil offered, a hint of hesitation in his voice that Andrew’d never heard before. “I could - uh, I could give you my -”

“Spit it out, Josten.”

He could hear Neil’s scowl. “I can’t if you keep interrupting me!” He let out a disgruntled huff. “Well, I just thought - maybe I could give you my personal number.” 

Andrew hummed. “For what purpose?”

“To get to know you better.” Neil said, the blunt confidence returning to his voice. “If that was something you’d be interesting. Or am I just a welcomed blip in the routine?” 

“Do whatever you want. I couldn’t care less.” Andrew lied. 

Neil laughed softly. “Goodnight, Andrew.”

“Night.” 

*

Andrew stood outside the staff entrance letting the smoke curl in his mouth before letting it seep out from between his lips. He’d always broken his breaks up into ten-minute chunks to keep up the flow of nicotine. No one usually spoke to him or acknowledged him. 

Usually. 

Roland, his consistent hook-up over the past six months, leaned against the door to keep it closed. Andrew could appreciate the low-cut sleeveless shirt and the arms folded across the man’s chest. Andrew had left bruises in the shape of his chain necklace when Roland asked him to: He knew Roland wanted something more permanent than what he was willing to give. 

“You’ve been distant.” Roland supplied. 

Andrew flicked ash in his direction, a warning in and of itself. Roland merely rolled his eyes and dropped his arms, opening his palms as an offer. 

That was how it always happened: They had five, ten minutes to spare. There was nothing better to do. Andrew was going through the motions: Going to work, serving drunk fuckwits, smoking in silence, giving Roland head to shut him up, repeat. 

When the other man gasped “We should go out to dinner some time,” Andrew pinched the skin of his thigh. Roland’s hand flew out to stabilise himself against the table-top, effectively hitting the small radio player that worked constantly. 

He must have knocked the frequencies, because Neil’s pearlescent laughter filled the room and Andrew had never felt more disgusted: In himself, in this, in everything. The visceral hatred for his existence was only a glimmer, a fragmented moment, but it was enough to have him stumbling away, shoving his hands through his hair and digging his fingers into his temples. 

“Andrew?” Roland managed. 

“I’m going home.” He snapped, shoving his hands into his pockets. He found his phone and his keys, slamming the staff-entrance door behind him. 

Sitting in the driver’s seat, he looked at his phone again. Looked at the text from an unknown number that he’d read but not answered. 

hey this is neils number. 

He swallowed against the cotton wad in his throat and typed out an answer. when do you finish? 

neil was quick to respond. four am every morning. aren’t you still on shift? 

Andrew rested his forehead against the steering-wheel and tried to ignore the way his heart raced. left early. 

Neil took over five minutes to answer. Andrew didn’t want to turn on the radio and hear his voice, so he waited. His patience was rewarded a little while later. 

bring me coffee? black, no sugar, no milk. itd be nice to finally see you. 

Andrew shoved down the desire to smile instinctively, hating the unfamiliar twitch to his lips. with a coffee order like that, i’d rather run for the hills. 

shame. Neil answered. see you soon? 

Andrew was a goner, shoving his keys into the ignition as he typed out a hasty reply. 

yeah. see you soon.

*

:DDD

[nobody-knose--archive]

so guess who bought complete demos today on a whim

yeah i wasn’t expecting this one to be over as quickly as it was either. have your liveblog

-complete demos. i bought it today & already forgot the tracklist. listening to it on the mp3 player i got for hmcrmshcidshdamsth because why not. makes pausing/typing easier that's why

-who the heck just coughed

-good lord the mixing is. and boy that's steve drumming isn't it. wow

-i mean we've got the stereo panning just like ever but this is incredibly rough. they are true babies aren't they

-oh those flutes are amazing what the hell. can people stop yelling in my individual ears

-and there's the rough megaphone. it's so incredibly clear that these aren't studio recordings but like. still tally hall!

-i think i'm finding many of these a little too funny but gotdam you're pitchbending your own voice do you really expect that to not sound so goofy at such a high pitch

-oh we're not slowing down at all, this is the same tempo as before for sure

-the flipping around audio channels is very not good at all when it comes to disguising the cuts between takes

-a sculptor you say? (is that one in the later versions? i don't remember it at all)

-nothing but rob's voices in the background and maybe 1 or two from red. no ross bits whatsoever. that's wild

-quick move into the greener intro and even quicker movement into greener itself

-well those are extra harmonies. interesting that they removed them for later versions because they're not bad, maybe a little out of place though

-honestly the biggest difference in steve vs ross drumming seems to be more a difference in the quality of the drums themselves. or the recording software but that applies to everything in this album

-it's painfully obvious that everything was recorded in really different circumstances & not mixed professionally and yep. complete demos alright. not inaccurately named in the slightest

-reminds me of the beta versions of g&e songs we heard live before they appeared on the album, makes me wonder if we could've gotten an admittedly complete demos for g&e somehow

-anyway these little different synths-

-hello there rob. alternate bridge. i have remembered this is a thing. something about tissues? a shoulder to cry on? cool

-yeah the little different synths do capture my attention from time to time

-and a basic piano for the outro? huh. sure gives it a different tone alright

-hm? who's that right at the end there- ooh! wtth time! and this still has steve in it doesn't it?

-generally more enthusiasm when it comes to that T, wonder what lost him attention in later years

-boy is that beatboxing weirdly mixed.

-lawn

-well this chorus is actually rather snazzy. the vocals seem better mixed than anything else i've heard in this album

-"who's to blame?" that's like the 4th time now i've heard someone's random voice that i can't recognize. ...it couldn't be steve, could it? i am now aware i have absolutely no clue what his voice sounds like but that seems like it could fit. hm

-zubin sounds really unenthusiastic here. just faintly unenthusiastic all over the place. still sounds more like "badiggle" than anything else

-oh shit they're falling down a well

-red's bit is hella unchanged other than the direct invasion of my individual ears & extra megaphone useage (i really wish the megaphone became more of a tally icon than it did but that's neither here nor there)

-it's rather more barebones though. less andrew keys in general. the calliope-reminiscent synth he uses is different i suppose.

-they did more stuff with funny crowd voices i think i've noticed. playing around with falsetto, as a college band dude might do

-ok yeah steve is a worse drummer. don't ask me what made me change my mind but i did

-wow a crowd that can consistently clap on the 1-2-3-4? how utterly unrealistic

-no wonky wild & weird intro to taken for a ride because i don't think it's on this album. understandable, i can't imagine what sort of wild hell the vocoder would be if it was attempted this early in its lifespan

-1st 2 piano chords of just apathy has me thinking of i know your name (deporitaz ver.) which is certainly as good a start to a song as any

-extended piano intro has me thinking of the ending of mold en mono but nope here's rob's voice to completely knock that impression out of the water

-ohoho? rob cantor swearing momence? i hadn't realized there'd be this many lyric changes

-interestingly enough this track doesn't seem horrendously mixed so far- nevermind that guitar/piano together is way too loud

-the guitar itself does have a pretty cool unique sound. obviously they hadn't had any access to string instruments at this point so given that those're the main thing separating this song from your average sade rock ballad there aren't a whole lot of notable differences here other than said guitar

-very different tone to this lil bridge. faintly reminiscent of weezer but it's not like i know anything about weezer

-sounds like the same synth from wtth being used in the bg there. what, did they have just that limited a selection so as to need repetition that frequently, or did they really like how it sounds? hard to tell with 200 (uhhhh) 4 college band dudes

-and right into two wuv. yes i had heard there's no haiku in this one but i forget what else will be missing. not sure if anything else will other than hidden in the sand. they would have ruler of everything, right? and a track that appears here but not any other albums? something like that i think

-more of that piano in the bg and more of mildly unenthusiastic zubin singing. different melody for said singing but it's not much of a secret that these guys were more untrained vocalists at this time

- .subsides?

-this chorus sounds significantly more laid-back than the later version

-the extra piano part sure moves this piece way further away from "rock love song" & way closer to "andrew horowitz song", especially that lil flourish where a bee buzzing might otherwise be

-ooh! andrew! he speaks! so does zubin! this song's two olsen boys coming in for a weird bridge bit! hell yeah oh this is adorable

-"because there's 2 of them :}"

-hm. are they actually just removing various parts because they don't have the technological capabilities to do a straight fadeout here? got dam

-i suppose letting zubin do a final solo-ish cadence works too

-uh- say it ain't so‽ w. no this is stationary love, the song that appeared here & nowhere else. cool, cool. strange but cool i guess

-i guess that can explain the multitude of weezer comparisons made for these lads. it's certainly there. honestly andrew was the only thing keeping them from being true weezer successors

-pure acoustic guitar thus far. this is my first time hearing this song of course & it seems like a pretty typical rob "homophonic heterophobic" cantor song

-nothing but acoustic guitar. nothing but rob vocals. nothing but alloromanticism. guess what! it's not my cup of tea! however i can't help but think if this song was worked on more, fixed up a la either mmmm release, with some more andrew/red touches, i could enjoy it some more

-not even any drumming. the simplicity could easily explain why it wasn't played live very often at all

-so the next thing i expect is some very funky & very weird spring and a storm which should highlight steve's (worse) drumming more than anything else i'm sure

-nevermind banana man's just getting slapped directly in here out of order compared to the later mmmm releases. this version i have indeed heard before because it's the version used in the music video

-therefore i have very little to say about it i haven't said on any of the other banana men. or other tracks on this album. the intrusions of vocal harmonies seem jarring because they're not mixed professionally, an effect that's only enhanced by the stereo panning & intense reverb

-this song really didn't change all that much over its lifespan, did it? vocal flairs were redone, but relatively few harmonies were added/removed, i don't think things like the bridge(s) were modified severely. not as noticeably as any of the other songs, at the very least

-i'm pretty sure i can hear andrew's voice in there but beyond that this is severely unsettling

-back to the chorus wahoo. relievingly  familiar territory

-get out of my left ear hawaiian guitar- wait a minute are my earbuds on wrong

-no i'm good

-oh holy shit i forgot this had to be somewhere didn't it‽ i know it's just the same! ok ok

-i've heard this one but only because i had no idea it was from complete demos, it's like rather polished too so i had never considered it would be on an unpolished album like this. i also had no idea that was goddam steve drumming in there too hot damn

-and this is the only recording of it‽ that's wild i always thought it was redone at some point & just kinda. manifested in one of the vague ways miscellaneous high quality tally hall songs do

-it's another romance one but the guitar arpeggios and extra layers give it a pass in my book. man i should watch the music video for it shouldn't i

-i still think it's utterly wild how tally hall played this at an actual high school's homecoming once. wouldn't that just blow your mind

-there's not a major difference between how it's performed here & what i've heard of it in from the occasional live performance, which is making me realize i should watch more live performances of this song

-angstier prequel to hidden in the sand

-or sidequel maybe. depends really. we can tell whatever stories we like

-did my hidden in the sand sotry come out of the queue yet? i feel like i queued it a while ago but also like y'all would've said something if you'd seen it

-bit slow paced innit. much like everything else in this album, it would have gained much from a professional studio treatment, but its mixing & general quality is still surely the best out of everything i've heard so far

-working your falsetto there aren't you my dude? ooh boy

-ruler of everything.... so no spring & a storm? >{

-yeah. ok. weird glockenspiel. almost sounds like a music box

-no vocoding either! i just realized that's a thing here! curious. and... those are some heavily wonky sfx in the background

-who's singing those aaaaas anyway? it's not a chorus which i thought could surely be handled and there's really minimal reverb too; strange considering not only is reverb a jh trademark but easily doable here

-the piano synth used is mostly identical to the 05 mmmm- oh holy shit there's different lyrics & they're being beamed directly into my skull

-even more nonsensical & it's because you can hear them hella easily too. that backwards segment did not need to go on as long as it did. also

-so no zubin vocals? >{

-slapping 5 billion vocal effects on doesn't make up for a lack of the best singer in this damn band

-especially because he sounds reminiscent of goddam fred. being fred before fred was even a thing. oh how accursed

-quiet down your guitars when you're singing shouting through a megaphone if you please

-and there's the earstrain-ass reverb + vocoding on the flibbity jibber jabber reprise. i feared as much would happen. doesn't sound horrible i just need to turn down the volume on my mp3 player

-honestly thing whole thing isn't bad at all in the sense that it's mostly just strongly different from the later versions & lacks zubin

-lease stop yelling though my dude schwiggling your voice like that isn't always a good thing at high volumes

-is that the end? are we.... at the end? i heard that's the name of some song from like sketches or something

-no. how silly of me to assume as much. anyway my dude needs to fix up his ukulele this one sounds like shit

-no vocal effects makes me realize how few times we got this one live-

-now what would you call a wonky little transition like that? puts a smile on my face, even if it does take me by surprise at the same time

-but at least one of the times this was done live featured casey shea

-now for the love of god i already hate the ending of something glowing (view-monster) for its weird-ass asmr finale don't reverse someone's cough & twiddle your ukulele strings directly into my right ear to end an otherwise really nice version of hidden in the sand if you please. oh mama mia. good night

[softbiker]

Born to Run - Chapter 8

Warnings: some bad words

Word count: 3.3k

A/N: I love how I queued this and then tumblr literally didn’t post it :))))) anyways, the slow burn continues; bad people are up to stuff, good people are up to stuff. As always, let me know what you think! 

He leaned on his motorcycle, a butterfly knife twirling between his twitchy fingers. He waited there, watching a few cars pass by on the highway, but there weren’t many at this time of the afternoon. Sweat started to pool in his worn leather boots, but he’d be damned if he complained. He’s seen hotter, been through worse. His other hand dug through the stash in his pocket, and he popped a piece of sugary pink gum into his mouth, crumpling the wrapper and letting it fall to the ground.

Gravel crunched behind him as his lieutenant approached. Rumlow didn’t turn, merely flicked his wrist over and folded the knife, waiting for the other man to speak.

“They’ve moved her into the clubhouse,” Ward said, hair greased back and oily in the sunlight. “Guess she didn’t listen.”

“No,” Rumlow shook his head with a smack of his bubblegum. “Guess she didn’t.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, the only sounds between them were his mouth on the gum and the cicadas humming in the late September heat. A couple more cars passed by, but their old gas station hangout was the last thing anyone wants to look at too closely; the road turned away from them and so did everyone's eyes. Grant Ward was sweating now, too, but he didn’t dare interrupt Rumlow while he was thinking. His mother used to say he didn’t have any brains, but he’s got enough to value his own neck and shut the hell up.

“It’s Barnes that wants her,” Rumlow finally spoke up, spitting his gum on the ground and trading it out for a peppermint. That wrapper followed the other, littering the gravel. “Rogers, Wilson - the rest of ‘em would’ve left her alone. But he wants her. Probably fucks her.”

Ward cracked a little smile at that. He was a red-blooded man, and he’d seen that doctor chick. Couldn’t blame Barnes for taking an opportunity.

“You think she’s our ticket, boss?”

“I know she is.” The peppermint cracked between Rumlow’s molars. “They just added a weak link to their chain. We tug on it and Barnes’ll come running.” He stood up from his perch against the seat of his bike, tilting his head to one side until his neck cracked. Ward shifted his feet on the gravel to put an extra few inches of space between them. He glanced at their bikes.

“We movin’ now?”

“Not yet.” Rumlow straddled his bike and spared Ward one last look. “Call the boys. We’re havin’ church.”

**********

“This’ll be your room,” Natasha leaned a hip against the door, allowing Y/N to walk in first. “Not exactly 5 star, but it’s better than being homeless.”

“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers.” Y/N dropped her duffel bag on the bed and sighed, tilting her head back to look at Nat. “Seriously. Thank you for doing this.”

“You don’t need to thank us.” Nat was shaking her head already. “We put you in this mess. It’s the least we could do.”

“Still. It means a lot.”

After spending one more night at Bucky’s place, Y/N had gathered what was left of her (undamaged) belongings and thrown it all in the back seat of her car once more, following Bucky and Nat on their bikes as they lead her out of town towards the clubhouse. The radio faintly picked up a gospel station but she shut it off. Too much on her mind.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the warning, literal writing on the wall. “Leave while you can.” The threat was clear - at some point, they wouldn’t let her go, whoever “they” were. She’d be dead. The implication chilled her more than the break-in itself; this wasn’t a random, opportunistic home robbery. Someone followed her, found her, targeted her. And while the Avengers were doing their best to help her out, she couldn’t shake the feeling that it truly was their fault.

But you signed up for this, she told herself. Didn’t you ask for it?

A knock on the door frame, and Steve Rogers poked his head around the corner, his soft blond hair sticking out at odd angles from his helmet. He met her eyes with a small smile.

“Hey. You getting settled?” he asked, shuffling his very large body to fit in the doorway next to Natasha.

“Mhm. Nat is helping.”

“Good - that’s good,” Steve nodded, hooking his thumbs in his pockets, a little awkward. He had the telltale posture of a person who has something to say, but doesn’t know how to say it. Natasha noticed this, too, turning herself to face him fully.

“Spit it out, Rogers, I know that look.” She crossed her arms. He blew a defeated breath past his lips.

“Listen, I wanna start by saying that I don’t like this anymore than you do, okay?” he held up his hands, looking between the two of them. “But...I’ve been talking with Bucky, and we both feel that it would be good if - if you didn’t really go out alone for a while.”

A beat.

“Excuse me?”

“Clearly you’re in danger, we all saw the damage at your house. The person - people - who did this are not going to just leave you alone. So...we were thinking that you should have someone, one of us, taking you to work or to the store or wherever you need to go.”

He finished his little speech with an apologetic lift of his eyebrows, knowing that it would not be received the way it was intended. At the look on Y/N’s face, he tensed his shoulders, bracing himself for the blow.

“Are you out of your mind?” She was looking at him like he had just sprouted a second head. “It’s one thing to suggest moving in here, but a bodyguard? A literal bodyguard? No way. Not happening.”

Scared as she was, alone as she felt, her independence bristled at the thought of having her privacy invaded, her competence questioned. Did they really think she couldn’t take care of herself? She lived on a college campus, and then in the city for med school - she’d fended off her fair share of creeps, and all by herself.

“I knew you wouldn’t go for it…” Steve sighed, but set his jaw, not backing down. “But this isn’t really a request.”

“Are you - are you fucking joking right now?” Oh she was really gonna lose it. “Look, you may be the president or captain or whatever around here, but I’m not a part of your stupid gang. You don’t get to give me orders.”

He blinked, a stunned look on his face as if he were seeing her for the first time. Natasha was smirking, giving him that knowing look that he honestly hated - she remembered, just like Steve did, the first time he heard those words. The woman who said them. The tension in his shoulders relaxed just a little.

“I’m not trying to. I swear,” he placated. Drawing in a deep breath, he glanced at Natasha, who was no help at all today, then settled his gaze back on their guest. “Look. How about a compromise. Give it two weeks, two weeks of being escorted by someone from the Avengers, just until we get these people or things calm down. Sound reasonable?”

She hesitated. Honestly? No, not reasonable. But in the name of safety...and she did wonder, her mind turning back to the train of thought she had followed in the car. Whoever it was, they might not be fooled by her moving across town. They might even still be following her, know that she was here…

“Fine,” she huffed, crossing her arms. “Two weeks. But I still don’t like it.”

**********

“I’m sorry, remind me why we’re doing this?”

“You agreed to let one of us take you to and from work. This is the easiest way.”

“...you could just follow me on the bike. Or ride in my car.”

Bucky sighed heavily, slumping against the handlebars of his motorcycle.

“What’s the big deal? I thought you liked riding?” he shrugged. “Besides, riding together saves gas, and it’s better for the planet.”

She lowered her brows at him, clearly not impressed with his argument.

“Look. It’s not the bike I have a problem with, okay?” She rubbed her temples. “If I show up to work on the back of your bike, people might - they’ll think…”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “People are gonna think what they wanna think, doll,” he shook his head. “But not a damn bit of that matters unless you think it does.”

She pursed her lips, fingers fiddling with the zipper on her jacket. Enough people associated her with the gang already that her home had been invaded and vandalized. And the rest had their whispered suspicions, shared at church ice cream socials and book clubs.

Without a word, she took the helmet he offered and swung her leg around to sit behind him. At least this commute would be more fun.

**********

“So...Bucky Barnes, huh?”

“Yeah - what’s he like? He as mean as he looks?”

“Well, he’s gotta be something other than mean for her to want to date him-”

“Woah, woah slow down,” Y/N put her hand up, interrupting the flow of the nurses’ conversation. “I am not dating him. We’re not dating.”

“Uh huh, sure.” Charlotte raised her eyebrows. “And that’s why he’s following you around like a guard dog, driving you places, holding open doors…”

“Never leaving your side.” Stacey added.

“Waiting for you after work.” KC, the newest nurse, nodded towards the front door of the clinic, where the man in question could be seen leaning against his bike, a cigarette in the corner of his mouth.

Y/N sighed. After a week of Bucky’s protective detail, the whole town had their eyes on her. Whispers between grocery aisles and PTA meetings and over coffee at Mel’s Diner - everyone had seen her with him, on that motorcycle of his all the time, and hadn’t she seemed too smart to fall in with a guy like that? Of course, it all made sense now, what had happened over there at the Van Horn house - somebody in that gang wanted her gone, but she was too in love with Barnes to listen to her good sense and skip town. She’d heard it all; complete strangers took it upon themselves to warn her, to scold her even, for hopping into bed with a dangerous man. All of it regardless of the truth, which was that he was more of a bodyguard than anything else.

“I know you all think that there’s something going on between us,” she said slowly. “But Bucky and I are just friends. That’s all.”

The nurses had finally cornered her after several days of watching Bucky peel into the parking lot and produce their wind-swept doctor, and then seeing him reappear at lunch and in the evenings to steal her away on the back of his bike. She knew they made quite the picture, and she sure as hell knew about his reputation - she had just hoped that no one would actually say anything to her face. It was too hard to explain, even without her hesitation to reveal Avengers business.

Her words did little, if anything, to satisfy them. On the face of it, they were worried for her. The town knew nothing about Barnes other than his reputation, which was more leather than golden. When Y/N started making appearances with him, her own character came into question, with everyone but her friends at the clinic. She protested again and again that he wasn’t what the town said, that he was a good, kind person, and over time she wore them down a little - but after that it was worse. Satisfied that she wasn’t in mortal danger, the girls revealed their deep curiosity about the mysterious “bad boy” that had become her personal driver. They giggled and whispered as though they were at a sixth grade slumber party, not a medical clinic.

Charlotte crossed her arms with a smug smile, watching Y/N squirm under their questions. Maybe she just wasn’t ready to admit it to herself.

“Well, I think your friend-,” she put air quotes around the word. “- is ready to go.”

Y/N looked out the door again to see Bucky straddling his bike now, his face turned towards the door as if he could actually see her through it. The sunglasses on his face were bright and reflective in the golden hour sun.

“Alright then. Have a good night ladies.”

“Oh I’m sure yours will be better.” KC wiggled her eyebrows.

Bucky watched her approach him with a smile around his cigarette - a smile that dropped in surprise when she snatched the thing from his mouth and threw it to the ground.

“What have I told you about smoking here?”

“I’m still outside, you know.”

“Yes, but plenty of patients have trouble breathing - you could manage to not have a cigarette while you’re waiting for me to get off work.”

His grin was playful, sweet.

“Yes, ma’am.”

15 minutes later, on their drive home, he shot straight past the clubhouse without even slowing down. Lulled into the familiar trance of holding him on the back of his bike, she almost didn’t notice - when she realized what he’d done, she squeezed his waist and leaned up to yell in his ear.

“Where are you going? The clubhouse is back there!”

“You’ll see, doll!”

He stuck to the highway for a few more miles, before branching off on a smaller road through the hills. They sped past pastures and creeks and herds of cows lazing under trees, all of it still green and soft though October had managed to sneak up on them somehow. A few houses dotted the hillside here and there, with large barns to hold their animals, but other than that they saw no sign of civilization, or of people who would stare.

He turned off again onto a small country lane, following old signs that read “Old Man’s Lake Park” until they reached a gravel lot that served for parking. With a sly grin, he watched her pull off her helmet and tugged her along a worn footpath through the park, never letting go of her hand.

“I thought you might like it out here - a change of pace from going back and forth to the clubhouse and work and the grocery store.” He looked over his shoulder, and she could see his confidence fade a little, a hopeful look in his eyes tempered with an ounce of doubt.

The lake sprawled out over a hundred yards, its surface calm and glassy, cut only by a family of ducks near the shoreline. Trees dug their roots in along the bank, their branches curving down to brush the top of the water, with a couple of ropes tied to the stronger ones so that people could jump in. As the sun fell closer to the horizon, the whole scene was lit in amber and gold, the soft hum of cicadas filling the air around them.

“This...Bucky-” She looked up to find him already looking at her. “This place is beautiful.”

He smiled, a little bashful as he glanced down at his boots.

“I know people have been givin’ you a hard time...and I know it’s mostly my fault,” He sighed. “But all the way out here, there’s nobody watching. You can just...be yourself, you know?”

He was staring across the lake, the light from the water reflecting in his crystal blue eyes. She took a deep breath, shoulders relaxing.

“Yeah, I know.”

**********

“You seriously did that on a dare? I can’t believe you.”

“Well I had to otherwise Steve was gonna do it! You didn’t know him back then, he would’ve caught pneumonia and died!”

“Oh, so you went skinny dipping in a frozen lake for selfless reasons, that makes it completely different.” She rolled her eyes, unable to hold down her smile. “I’m sure your mother was very proud.”

“She was, when she figured out I was saving a life,” Bucky quipped back, eyebrows raised.

“Saving a life by almost dying - you pretty much broke even on that one.”

“Yeah, well. I was 15, I had more muscles than brains back then.”

She just scoffs, rolling her eyes again.

**********

“You know, I never really saw a lot of stars until I was deployed.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Grew up in the city - too much light pollution.”

“Me too, actually.” She laid back on her elbows. “I barely know any of the constellations, except for the Big Dipper.”

“Seriously?” When she nodded, he laid down on his back, gesturing with his hand for her to do the same. “Okay, class is in session.” He pointed towards the sky above, a little to her right. “You see that group right there, with the three stars right in a row?”

Tracing her eyes along the tattoos on his forearm, she turned her gaze upwards to where he was pointing.

“Yeah, I see it.”

“That’s Orion’s belt.” He leaned a little closer, letting her eyes follow the shape that his finger was making. “Then you can follow it up here and here...and that’s the whole constellation of Orion - he’s called the Hunter, and you can kinda see there how he’s supposed to be holding a bow.”

“Oh, wait I do see it!” She turned to him, beaming. “That’s so cool!”

He was already smiling at her, his eyes flitting over her face.

“Alright - next up, Pegasus.”

**********

“Why did you really come out here?”

They had scooted closer to each other as night fell and the temperature with it. Y/N was sitting with her knees drawn up, Bucky’s jacket around her shoulders.

“I mean, I know you went with the rural practice program,” he went on. “But...I just can’t believe you didn’t have another option to pay for med school.”

She shrugged.

“Well, I could’ve gone into the military, but I’m not exactly thrilled with our current commander-in-chief,” she sighed. “And then...I don’t know, I guess. I didn’t want the stress of having to pay off my tuition by myself. So I took this.”

He nodded, silent for a few moments.

“Do you regret it?”

She didn’t answer, not for a long time - she just stared at the toes of her sneakers and pulled at the grass. When she did speak, her voice was small, barely above a whisper.

“Do you ever feel alone, Bucky?”

She could feel him looking at her, but didn’t turn.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess I do sometimes.”

“I’ve...I’ve never been this alone in my life.” She shook her head and took a deep breath. “I don’t know if I regret this, but I feel-I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing. Like I’m lost. And no one can tell me if I’m going the right way or not.”

He didn’t say anything to that, but covered her hand with his. The sky had been dark for a long time, the stars glittering overhead and echoing back on the surface of the lake. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but neither of them had made a move to leave.

“I...know a little of how you feel,” he said, his voice low. “And I don’t think anyone can really tell you which way to go.” He squeezed her fingers, his palm covering hers. “But you’re strong, and crazy smart, and you can figure this out. And…” he sighed heavily. “You don’t have to be...alone.”

She stared at him, just able to make out the soft blue of his eyes in the dark. Something stretched between them, unbreakable in the moonlight. She couldn’t look away. On the grass between them, he threaded his fingers with hers and whispered.

“You’re not alone.”

[shewritestheblues]

The Elevator Bae | Chapter NINE

Chapter NINE - PART ONE

EIGHT

Erik Stevens x Black OC (Phoenix)

Word Count: Idk. 5k... I think.

A/N: I didn’t want this chapter to be too long, so it’ll be broken up into two parts. | Song lyrics referenced are not my own. They are from Mila J x Friend Zone. ** Major S/O to my good sis @liyahshaeking​ for helping me figure out how I wanted to start this and proofreading this for me. You are a Gem! and reminder: this is my side blog and all further chapters and other fics will be posted from this page. 

Erik’s face beamed with joy as he looked at his phone. Phoenix had just sent him a mirror video, showing off her bright, red bikini. She whips her box braids off of her shoulder, revealing a familiar gold chain around her neck. Music was playing in the background and just before the video ends, Erik spots one of her friends dancing behind her, photobombing her video. Without a second thought, he saved the video before playing it again, making sure the sound isn’t on. But that wasn’t enough for him. He needed to see more of her. He bit his lip as he shamelessly goes right to Phoenix’s instagram. Ironically, she had just uploaded a group picture with all of her friends on the beach. Each of them looking perfectly tanned as they glowed under the sun. They were cute, Erik could admit that. But his baby girl was the cutest. He used his chubby thumbs to zoom in right on her. The smile she wore, made his heart flutter. She was happy. Her being happy, made him happy. Just as he was about to tap her profile picture to get caught up with her story, a voice brought him back into reality.

“Damn, E! She’s cute.”

Erik was suppose to be hanging with ‘the boys.’ They were currently at TJ’s house smoking, talking shit and playing 2k. Well… that’s what everyone else was doing. Erik was currently, laid back onto TJ’s couch, cuddling with his phone. He was so caught up in Phoenix’s video, he didn’t even realize that he was the topic of the shit talk. TJ, Mario, Ken and Ken’s girlfriend, Stephanie, who was deemed ‘one of the bros’, were going in on him. Without even noticing, Stephanie had made her way behind Erik and was watching as he pretty much drooled over Phoenix.

Erik whipped his head around to see Stephanie leaned over the couch, watching his every move. His nostrils flared at how comfortable she seemed behind him.

“Do you know what privacy is? Damn!”

His friends burst into laughter causing Erik to realize that this was a set up. Stephanie was chosen to spy on Erik to see who in the hell was on his phone making him grin and cheese like a kid with a grade school crush. He glared at all of them as they fell over.

“Y’all childish as hell.” he says, shaking his head.

TJ walks over to Erik, sitting next to him. “So is this a new one?”

“Mhmm. I ain’t never seen this one before.” Stephanie chimes in.

Erik cuts his eye at her. “Why does it matter?”

“We’re just trying to find out which one of your hoes finally got you stuck.” Mario says from the kitchen.

“She ain’t a hoe, so watch your fucking mouth.”

Stephanie continues to lean over the couch, scrolling on her phone. She was able to see Phoenix’s IG name from when she was towering over Erik’s shoulder, watching him examine her latest upload. She was currently scoping out Phoenix’s page. “Where you find her at, E? She looks like she has morals.”

Confused, Erik looks at Stephanie. “Fuck you mean?”

She holds up her phone, displaying a selfie that Phoenix had on her page. TJ snatches the phone and starts looking through the pics, prompting Mario and Ken to join.

“Damn, E! She’s nice.” Ken says.

Erik tries to take Stephanie’s phone from them but TJ grips it tighter to stop him. “How the fuck did you even find her page?”

Stephanie laughs, “I peeped it when you were zooming in on her ass.”

“I fucking hate y’all.”

“You need to be plugging me with one of her friends.” Mario says, licking his lips at some of the group pictures Phoenix has with her friends. He points to Camren. “She looks like she needs me.”

TJ shows Erik who Mario is referring to and Erik sucks his teeth. “She gay. She doesn't need or want yo’ ugly ass.” He reaches for the phone again. “Are y’all done?”

TJ moves back quick, giving Stephanie her phone. “How long you been fucking with her?”

Erik doesn’t respond. He sits there looking forward. His face is blank. He’s annoyed that they now know about Phoenix. He wanted to keep her to himself for as long as possible and now they know. Now, they would be asking about her. They have her social media info and knowing Stephanie, she would reach out to introduce herself. She was always ignoring boundaries. A part of it is because the guys were her only friends. So, when one of the guys had a new lady friends, she would insert herself, trying to make friends with them. This has happened to Erik three times now. But of course, those girls were just fuck buddies. This was Phoenix. Big difference.

“Aw, it’s her birthday?” Stephanie says from behind him. Erik looks back to see what she’s talking about.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“I’m watching her story.”

--------

Phoenix and her girls had made plans to go out to dinner at a local restaurant. They were all in their rooms, getting ready. Music is blasting through their villa home as she slipped on her navy blue, floral romper. She unwrapped her braids and put on Erik’s gold chain. She figured she’d give it back after her trip since it seemed to go with all of her outfits. Applying some mascara and her Fenty highlighter, she just needed to decide on what shoes to wear. Wedges or Sandals. She picked up both pairs of shoes and heads up the hallway to see what her friends would think.

Peeking into each of their rooms, she notices that they are all missing. In true Phoenix nature, her mind takes her to the worst case possible. They were kidnapped and killed and because the music is so loud, she didn’t hear a thing and now she has to escape before the killer gets to her. She tiptoes down the marble stairs, trying to be as quiet as possible to listen out for anything going on downstairs.

Suddenly, she hears movement coming from the kitchen and the music stops. Phoenix is internally freaking out. She stopped in her tracks to peek around the wall and releases the breath she was holding when she sees Ava’s back, standing at the kitchen island. She walks in, shoes in hand. Tiana was the first to see her and yells, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” Queuing Ava, Mica and Camren to start yelling Happy Birthday at her and popping a few confetti cannons. Big silver balloons hung over them, spelling out BLUE 28. Phoenix’s heart is glowing through her chest as she smiles so big at her friends. Her eyes begin to water when she sees a cake on the counter. “Oh my God. Y’all didn’t have to do this. This is Camren’s trip.”

Phone in hand, recording the entire thing, Ava grabs Phoenix with her free hand to hug her. “Did you really think we weren’t gonna do anything for you?”

“This is both of our trip.” Camren adds.

Phoenix hugs and thanks each of them. Mica pulls out a tiara and a Birthday Girl sash, putting them on Phoenix. “You look so pretty.” She looks down at the shoes that Phoenix is still holding on to, “And wear these.” She points to the sandals. “You’re getting fucked up tonight. You won’t be able to walk in those wedges.”

“SHOTS!” Camren yells. Ava lines the shot glasses up and Tiana fills them up that they overflow.

One shot. Two shot.

“Let’s go eat.” Phoenix says. The car arrives to take them to the restaurant and they go. Her birthday was the only time Phoenix would eat steak, so she ordered the biggest one they had. As they enjoyed their food, they drank drink after drink and had three more shots, each. With liquor pumping through their bodies, the women were hyped and ready to move their bodies. Mica lead them all to the dance floor on the other side of the bar and they danced. The natives of the island danced with them, cheering them on as they twerked on each other. A few native men joined them. One in particular noticed the tiara on her head. “It’s your birthday, love?” he asked.

His accent intrigued Phoenix. “Yes it is.”

“How old are you?” he smiled. His teeth were the purest white. His skin was a beautiful mocha. He whined his hips with hers as they danced and talked.

“I’m 28.”

“Can I show you a good time for your birthday, Ms…?

“Phoenix.”

“Oh, Phoenix. I like that.”

Phoenix nods in approval. The mystery guy motions to the DJ and a new song begins. The man places both hands on Phoenix’s hips, bending her over and grinding on her to the beat. He turns her around, picking her up.

“Oh, bitch!” Mica yells eagerly, recording the pair. Ava cheers them on. When the song was over, Phoenix’s covers her smiling face in embarrassment, walking back to her friends.

The mystery man then sends each of them another round of drinks on him. They raise their cups to him in gratitude. They continued to dance on each other.

-------

Ava did her best to stay awake to make sure they made it back to their villa safely. The rest of them were knocked out. Mica would come to every few minutes and then pass out again. The sound of a phone vibrating, stirred Phoenix. She sat up, digging in her bra for her phone.

INCOMING CALL ERIK

“Hello.” that one word was slurred.

“You got me fucked up.” Erik’s voice boomed through the phone.

“Erik…” she dragged his name like a song, “Hey babe.”  Mica’s head snapped up when she heard his name. Phoenix can barely hold the phone up to her face so she puts it on speaker, not at all expecting what was coming next.

“Don’t fucking babe me when you down there showing yo’ ass. Who the fuck is this ugly ass nigga you letting feel on yo’ ass?”

“What?”

“Oh you wanna play stupid now? Like you don’t know what I’m talking about?”

“Is that Erik?” Camren lifts her head from the car window, “Tell him to shut up.”

“WHO THE FUCK IS THAT?”

“Erik. Relax.” is all Phoenix could get out.

“Yo’ ass need to relax. Letting random niggas fuck on you.”

A group of voices is heard from Erik’s background. “Is that Phoenix? Hey Phoenix.”

“Who is that?”

There’s a pause on Erik’s end.

“Hello? Erik. Who is that?”

“Nobody.” his voice is now low compared to before. Almost like he’s whispering.

Mica rolls her eyes. “Can this nigga go find something to do? We’re busy.”

“I can find something to do, alright. I’ll fly down there right now and drag all y’all thot asses back here and ruin all that shit. Think I’m playing.”

“Erik…” Phoenix calls to him.

“Let me see you dancing with another nigga, Phoenix. I promise you that’s yo’ ass.”

That was all that Erik could get out before Phoenix’s phone dies. She stares at the black screen for a moment before putting it back into her bra.

-----------

The next morning was rough. As the women sat and ate breakfast, Phoenix sat with her plate on the floor next to a plug to charge her phone. She didn’t remember her phone dying but when it turned on, her heart dropped. Four missed calls from Erik and six text. He had never blown her phone up like this before. What happened last night? She thought.

Erik: Phoenix! Answer yo’ fucking phone.

Erik: Yo’ shit better be dead.

Erik: On Bast, I will fuck you and that nigga up Phoenix. I’m not playing.

There’s almost a  two hour wait before the next set of messages.

Erik: Philly.

Erik: I’m sorry baby girl. I shouldn’t blown up on you like that. I know you wouldn’t be down there on some crazy shit.

Erik: Just call me back.

He’s sorry? Really? Phoenix’s palms grew hot reading the messages. This screams red flags for her and she’s not with any of it. Her thumbs moved quickly texting him back.

Phoenix: Wow Erik. You are really full of shit. Don’t you ever crack open your lips to talk to me that way. I’m not one of these basic bitches that you’re use to fucking with. I won’t deal with any of that kind of disrespect. Keep your stupid ass sorry because I don’t want it. Do me a favor and don’t call or text me. Leave me alone.

Phoenix figured Erik would still try to contact her after that, so she proceeded to put her phone on airplane mode. If he wanted to be this way, he’d have to deal with the consequences of it. She slammed her phone down, gaining the attention of her friends, sitting at the table. They watched as she joined them at the table, sharing a few glances. They could read the frustration all over her face. She silently added more food to her plate and angrily stabbed her fork into her waffles as she ate.

“Is everything okay?” Ava asked.

“I am done with Erik.”

---------

**the night before** 

After more stalking of Phoenix and her friends pages to see what they were doing on the trip, Erik sees a video of Phoenix and the mystery man on Mica’s page. He stepped away from his friends, into the kitchen to call Phoenix. Although the kitchen wasn’t secluded from them at all. He planned on being rational about the situation but when she answered, his emotions took full control and his mouth started moving faster than his brain. Barking out, “You got me fucked up,” which drew the attention of his friends sitting just feet away in the living room. Hearing how her words slurred, he knew she was drunk but that didn’t stop him from continuing to lash out.

His friends, not realizing the seriousness of Erik’s feelings, yell out, “Hey Phoenix.” Erik snarls at them, getting the message through to them that right now isn’t the time for their bullshit. When Phoenix’s phone hangs up on him, his rage reaches a new level for the night. He calls her again and again, reaching her voicemail. His thumbs smash his keyboard sending her messages. Not receiving any responses from her, he decides it’s time for him to leave. He begins storming out of TJ’s home. TJ follows behind him.

“Aye man. E!” TJ calls out to Erik as he approaches his car in TJ’s driveway. Erik turns around without saying a word. “What the fuck just happend?” TJ continued.

“Nothing. I’m good.” Erik tries to avoid this conversation. He opens his car door, but TJ closes it shut, prompting Erik to glare at him.

“Do I look stupid to you? How long have I known you?” TJ asks.

TJ and Erik grew up together. They both lived in the same building before Erik’s dad was killed. TJ was his closest and only friend after that. He was the only person he stayed in constant contact with during his stay in foster care. Erik would sneak out most nights and stay with TJ and his mom at their place. These two ran the streets together until Erik went away to school and the NAVY. They were like two peas in a pod. TJ knew Erik better than any person on the planet ever could. He knew when something was wrong with his friend.

Erik stood there between TJ and his car. He had nothing to say, but at this point, he knew TJ wasn’t going to let it go.

“You know you tripping, right?” TJ continued.

“I’m tripping? Nah, fuck that. She’s tripping! Letting some nigga be all on her like that.”

“E! C’mon man, calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down.”

“You acting like she was fucking the nigga or something.”

“She might as well had been.” Erik stepped closer to TJ, bringing them eye to eye.

“See man, that’s your problem.”

“My problem?” Erik cuts him off, “What’s my problem, huh?”

“Just snapping for no damn reason. You’ve always done this stupid shit. Shoot now and ask questions later. That shit might work out on the field but that’s now how shit works in real life, E. You’ll run that girl off just like you run damn near everybody else off with that shit.”

Erik kissed his teeth, “Man, fuck on.”

“I always told you that you needed to calm the fuck down. It’s gon’ come back and bite you in the ass.”

“Oh, I guess Kayla leaving your bum ass made you a relationship expert.” Erik spat.

Kayla was TJ’s ex. They were together for five years until Kayla broke up with TJ about six months ago. TJ was always putting work first and cheated on Kayla while doing so. When she had enough, she left and never came back. The breakup was still fresh for TJ, so it was a low blow for Erik to bring it up.

“Yeah, E! It fucking did.” Erik could see the anger in TJ now. He had triggered him. “I fucked up and now I’m not trying to see my nigga fuck up his own situation. I ain’t never seen you act like this over no female, so clearly you like her. But honestly, I wouldn’t even blame her for getting rid of your dumb ass. You got too much baggage.”

Erik was done listening to what TJ had to say and started getting into his car. This time TJ didn’t stop him, he just continued to talk.

“Go ahead and walk away. Just like you always do. You can never face your shit, Erik. You can’t run away from your demons.” he shouts as Erik starts his car and pulls out of his driveway and driving off.

Erik raced through the semi empty streets of LA. It was pretty late so not many people were on the road. He dipped in and out of lanes, making his drive home a quick one. He entered his penthouse and headed straight to the bathroom, stripping out of his clothes and getting into the shower. The video of Phoenix dancing with another man playing in his head over and over followed by TJ’s last few words to him. You can’t run away from your demons. He stepped out of the shower and laid his bare body across his bed. As if a wave of calmness rolled over  his space, he suddenly felt… foolish. He knew he overreacted. He replayed the nights events over to see where everything went left. He sent Phoenix another text, apologizing before closing his tired eyes and drifting off to sleep.

-----

When Erik woke up the next morning, he hadn’t  received anything from Phoenix. Was she pissed? Was her phone still dead? Every kind of scenario possible ran through his mind. He barely got through his morning workout because of his overthinking. He would stop between sets checking his phone for any new notifications, even though his phone wasn’t on silent and would alert him if he had any. He decided to turn his phone off, leaving it in his bedroom while he locked himself in his office to work.

Hours had passed before he finally stepped back out of his office. The urge to check his phone hit him immediately after stepping out of his office, but the sounds of his hungry belly forced him to head downstairs to the kitchen. He took his time cooking up some salmon croquettes and cheesy grits. He picked around at his food. He needed to check his phone. He traveled upstairs to grab it and watched the apple sign glow as he made his way back down, sitting back at his kitchen counter. His phone came to life, with One New Message: Baby Girl and a missed call from TJ. He didn’t even bother to think about calling TJ back. He slid open the message from Phoenix.

Heat began to form in the pit of his chest as he read her message over and over. His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, trying to think of something, anything to say back. But she made herself clear: Do me a favor and don’t call or text me. Leave me alone. Not able to come up with anything to redeem himself, he decided to do as she asked and leave her alone. He closed the message and locked his phone. Erik finished the rest of his food, put on some fresh clothes and headed out the door.

-------

Phoenix and her girls rented some ATV’s for the day and spent the day exploring. They shopped at some small shops and got food at a local cafe before returning back to their villa. They all had been tired from partying the night before, so this night would be spent chilling and relaxing. As the night came to an end, everyone headed to their rooms to get some rest.

Phoenix laid in her bed for what felt like hours, trying to fall asleep. She flipped her pillows countless times to feel the cold side, she tossed and turned, and she even tried to count backwards from a hundred. Nothing worked. She reached for her phone and for the first time since that morning, she took her phone off airplane mode. Her first action was opening her messages and tapping Erik’s name. She just stared at her last message to him. Not knowing what to do, she exited out and tapped her IG app. She scrolled and scrolled, liking a few pictures until she found herself mindlessly tapping through Insta Stories. She stopped when she got to Coby’s story. He was in the studio and playing a snippet of a beat and it sparked an idea in her.  “I need to write.” she whispered to herself.

Phoenix got up and pulled out her trusty notebook from her luggage. She wasn’t supposed to bring anything work related with her but she knew at some point, inspiration could hit her. She dug into the bottom of her purse for her airpods and headed downstairs. She made her way outside into the backyard of the villa. The pool lite up blue and she found a comfy spot on one of the cushioned chairs. Popping in her headphones, she turned on a beat and let the music sing to her. She closed her eyes, feeling the warm, midnight breeze and hummed until she found the words.

Ride these hips like some handle bars // Do it on top of the car

No matter baby, I don't care // We can fuck anywhere

She sings as she writes her lyrics in her notebook.

-------

Mica stands in the dim kitchen, with the refrigerator open, looking for something to snack on. Nothing looked appealing but her sleepy mind made her believe that if she stared long enough at the food that maybe something tasty would just appear on the shelves. As she stood there, she heard the faint sounds of a voice. She closed the door of the fridge, trying to listen to where it was coming from. Her eyes followed the sound and she spotted one of her friends sitting outside. As she walked closer to the cracked open, sliding door she could hear very clearly now, Phoenix singing. She listened as Phoenix sung to herself. But what really caught her up were the x rated lyrics. How could someone so innocent be singing like this.

Now see normally, I do not do this shit // But ooh, I'm so ready to do your shit

Throw it back for ya cause you know the deal // When I hit ya back with that Netflix and chill

Mica stepped outside and started walking toward Phoenix. Naturally, as she walked, she didn’t make a noise. Phoenix having her earbuds in and eyes closed, she didn’t notice when Mica sat down in the chair next to her.

Let me tell you how I want it // Tell you just the way to hit // when you tryna push up on it

“Sounds like somebody missing that D.” Mica laughed, adding emphasis on D.

Phoenix jumped so hard, one of her earbuds fell out. “Oh my God!” She grabs her chest, feeling her heart pound. “What the fuck, Mica?”

“My bad. I ain’t mean to scare you.” Phoenix took deep breaths trying to calm her nerves. “Why are you out here though? You ain’t scared a lizard will pop out and attack you?” Mica continued.

“I couldn’t sleep. I wanted to be by the water and I actually never thought about a lizard or any other creatures popping out, but I am now though.” She rolled her eyes, peaking over her shoulder. When she looks back at Mica, she finds Mica grinning at her. “What?” she asked, with a bit of attitude.

Mica shakes her head. “Oh, nothing.”

“Mica… why are you looking at me like this?”

“I peeped your lyrics. Yo’ ass can’t sleep because you’re probably due for a dose of dick.”

Phoenix rolls her eyes. “I’m not due for anything. It’s just a song.”

“Girl, bullshit! All of your music reflects how you feel.” She watched as Phoenix anxiously bites the side of her mouth instead of responding. “It’s okay to admit it Phoenix.”

“There’s nothing to admit.” she snaps. “I’m just writing music.”

“Yeah, about getting your guts ruined by Erik.”

“Erik ain’t ruining shit.”

“Okay. Now you’re just lying.” Mica moves closer to Phoenix, snatching her notebook from her. Phoenix gives a small fight for it but Mica’s small frame is strong and she blocked Phoenix’s attempts to get it back. Mica read through the lyrics. Her eyes growing big as she realizes something. “Oh my goodness. Im tryna take you out the friend zone,” she reads. “You and him haven’t done the do, but you want to. You still want Erik to be your man.” she gives Phoenix a mischievous look.

Phoenix’s face heats up and tries to hide it from Mica. Mica jumps up and squeezes into the same chair as Phoenix. “Can you chill before you wake everybody up?” Phoenix says, covering her face with her t-shirt.

“I knew you were blowing smoke about being done with his ass earlier.” Mica snatches Phoenix’s t-shirt down from her face. “C’mon girl, talk to me. You ain’t let him break you off?”

Phoenix shakes her head no.

“Has he tried? Have you tried?”

“We’ve almost… like twice, but both times he stopped and said he didn’t want to.”

“Why?” Mica asked.

“The first time was after my show and we all went to In-N-Out. He walked me to my door and dropped the bomb on me that he would have to leave like the next day for work and be gone for two weeks. He didn’t want me to think he was having sex with me only to disappear.”

“Oh, like he did Sydney?”

Phoenix cut her eye at Mica. “He didn’t have sex with her.” Mica threw her hands up in surrender, motioning for Phoenix to go on. “And the second time is when he got back from his trip and he said he wanted to do things the right way and court me because he’s never done it for a woman.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean? He’s never actually dated a woman?”

“Nope! He’s never had a girlfriend. Just fuck buddies.”

“Hm.” Mica sounded impressed. “I’m going to need him to teach me his ways because I don’t really want these niggas. I just want the dick and that sounds perfect for me.”

“Mica!”

“What?”

“You know damn well you want Jimmy to be your man.”

“Aht! Aht! We are not talking about Jimmy right now. We are talking about you and Erik.” Mica pokes Phoenix’s chest.

“Actually,” Phoenix says matter of factly, “We’re not because there is no more me and Erik.”

“I get why you’re mad at him. I do! But I definitely think y’all can come back from this. From what you just said, I don’t think he was trying to be a disrespectful, wild nigga. If he’s never had a girlfriend then he’s never had those moments where you see the person you like, talk to someone else and your brain is all telling you to be heartbroken and you get that weird feeling in your chest. He overreacted, yes, but that man likes you, Philly! Maybe he didn’t know how to handle the thought of someone else knowing you the way he wants to know you.”

Phoenix bit her lip in thought. Does Mica really have a point right now? Mica was never the type to vouch for any guy. She was proudly Team Fuck These Niggas. So, this was new for Phoenix to hear from Mica. Mica grabs Phoenix’s face, looking her in the eyes. “I’m not saying to text him or nothing like that because it’s Fuck These Niggas for life. He should definitely suffer for talking to you like he lost his mind. But when you’re ready to talk to him, let his ass have it and make sure he knows that if he pulls that shit again, you will block his ass and go on like you never knew him. Once he bows down to you and kisses your feet for forgiveness, you snatch his soul.” Mica smiles which causes Phoenix to smile and Mica kisses her forehead.

“One problem, sis.”

“What?”

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“The dick.” Phoenix whispers.

“Are you serious?” Mica laughs.

“Yes. Stop laughing at me.” she pushes Mica off of her, causing Mica to slip from their shared chair. “It’s been a long time since I did that.”

Mica catches herself and swiftly moves her body into the other chair. “I completely forgot that you’re a born again virgin. I would be scared too.”

“You don’t understand, Mica. I really don’t think I even remember what to do with a dick.”

“You want me to give you some tips?”

Phoenix nervously looks at Mica. “Tips? From you? I don’t know about that.”

“Fine! Lay there like a sponge then.”

“Wait, I don’t wanna be a sponge. I’m sorry. Help me.”

Mica hands Phoenix her notebook and pen back. “Open a fresh page and take notes.” Phoenix does what she is told and waits for Mica to begin. “Okay! Let’s start with oral. How you suck a guys dick is how you set the tone. Wait, you’ve given head before right?”

“Um, once. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Girl,” Mica palms her face. “I’m sure it was terrible.”

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

Phoenix followed Mica’s advice on letting Erik suffer. For the rest of their trip, she didn’t text or call him. In fact, she kept her phone on airplane mode the majority of the time and never posted anymore pictures or videos on her Instagram. That didn’t mean Erik didn’t see what she was up to. He had no shame in checking in on Ava, Mica and Camren’s pages. He tried to see what was on Tiana’s page but her page was private. He needed to show Phoenix he knew he messed by handling their situation like he did. The fews days of them not being in contact, he had plenty of time to think about his actions. With Phoenix returning soon, he needed to figure out a way to get her back.

He sent a message to Shawn.

Erik: Aye man, this E.

Shawn: What’s up bro.

Erik: I need you to do me a favor. Give Coby my info. Tell that nigga to hit my line.

Shawn: Bet.

---------

Jetlag was creeping up on Phoenix as she sat in the backseat of her Uber. They had landed safely back in Los Angeles and she was headed home. The sun was setting and Phoenix took a beautiful picture of the sky as it glowed pink and orange. This being the first photo she uploaded to her InstaStory in days with the caption, no place like home.

Just as she hit upload, Erik watched as her picture popped up at the top of his screen. Seeing the photo confirmed that she’s home and his plan is set to start any minute now. He sat on his couch, waiting patiently for her to get to her apartment.

Tags: @purple-apricots​ @abeautifulmindexposed​ @lostennyc​ @tip222u​ @janelledarling​ @lushloaded​ @chaneajoyyy​ @thadelightfulone​ @raysunshine78​ @toniilaney @purpleskiesxhopefuldreams @elaindeereads @lyniya​ @liyahshaeking​ **If anyone would like to be added, let me know:)

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Theoretical Knowledge

“Remember kids,” you say sitting on the desk, feet folded as you cradle a cup of coffee, “A theory is JUST a framework for understanding. So. As we discuss Marxist, Feminist, and Queer Theories, no. I am not telling you that you HAVE to use only those theories and you HAVE to see the world that way. So please. Please keep the tweetstorms to a minimum in class. Just remember. If you don’t understand the theories, you can’t argue against them effectively.”

You smile and set your coffee cup down. “That said, Tuesday, we’ll be starting with Feminist Theory. Please read the chapter before class and come prepared to engage in our preliminary discussion.”

College kids, mostly freshmen start to trickle out, gathering their things and clustering up a few at a time. You alternately loved and hated teaching lower-level courses. The amount of handholding that they needed to be housebroken for their upper-level courses got a little more astounding every semester but... Still. There was something lovely about helping them build a solid foundation for the rest of their careers. 

You pause to answer a few questions. Careful to help them find the correct information. People for the next class were queuing up just beyond your periphery and you direct the stragglers to you office hours. You can feel the grumpy glare of Barnes, the mathematics professor and you cringe internally. You were willing to bet that you were going to have a shitty email waiting on you this evening. Some tripe about respecting other people’s time. Like it was your fault they’d shoehorned your 100 level classes into the Mathematics building. It was all the way across campus and there wasn’t decent coffee to be found anywhere on any floor. It was a miserable utilitarian clusterfuck of a building. Still. On some level it was super fun to get under his skin. The grump ass.

But, you were a good girl. You ignored his impatient harrumphs and tried not to glare at him when he slammed his stuff down and startled you. You erased the board carefully and quietly gathered your things as he sent an attendance sheet around the room, starting his droning on about Proofs or whatever the fuck. You even smiled, just a little when you caught his eye.

Numbers left you cold. 

They reminded you of sitting on the floor in the hallway. Flecks of mica winking mockingly at you as you try to finish the times table drill through the tremors in your hands and the tears that are threatening to spill. 

They reminded you of desperation. Frantically searching couch cushions for change. Just 80 cents so that you could at least get some fries at lunch. You’’re sick. Too sick to go to school but you can’t miss Algebra and there’s no food in the house. 

Numbers are an immutable fact. You can’t change them. No amount of new information will change that 2+2 is 4. Or change the fact that when you run the numbers, you come up wanting. So you try, very hard not to think about how irritating Barnes is. How you hate the aloofness in his face and how badly you’d like to see him smile to see if it made his eyes look less... Less frozen. 

As you strode across campus, anxious to get out of the cutting wind and stinging snow, back to your warm office and good coffee. Back on what felt like Terra Firma where you could discuss Russian Literature, and Freud’s Bullshit, and witchcraft, and stupid tv. Things you understood. Things you’d studied just for the sake of knowing. Things that had lead you here. You pushed the thoughts of Professor James Barnes out of your mind. He was as he was, and with any luck, it would only be for a semester that your existence would cause him any more irritation. Still. As you unlocked your door and settled behind your desk... There had to be something to be done about him. Something to chill him out just a little bit. You were just considering texting your usual gang of miscreants and rogue academics. You weren’t sure if it was for a war council or just for a drink. But you were saved having to figure it out when a familiar red head hurled herself dramatically across your desk.

“Please. I’m dying. Tinder sucks. Can we please. Please. Pretty fucking please go out. I miss out,” she says.

“Tasha,” you laugh, petting her hair absently, not looking up from your email, but pausing long enough to pat her hair, “You’re the one that said we couldn’t go out anymore.”

“And I was wrong. So. Very Wrong.”

“Well I’m not opposed but you know that if we don’t invite the boys they’ll be sad.”

“Tap room?”

“Sounds great,” you say absently, glaring at the missive that had just popped up.

Natasha arranged herself in a more dignified position in you guest chair and helped herself to a coffee and a snack, “Your face is making a face,” she frowns. 

“It’s just my best Buddy over in the Mathematics department,” you sigh rolling your eyes.

“Barnes right?” she says taking a sip of coffee.

You nod and turn the screen so she can read it.

You watch her eyes scan the monitor and watch the frown lines materialize, “What the fuck. Like dude. It’s just flavored coffee.”

“Right?”

“Control freak.”

“For fucking real. Like. Ew.”

You roll your eyes and she picks up her phone, “Maybe one of the Boys will know something.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, refusing to respond with apologies. 

________

“Bucky!” Steve said leaning on the door frame, “Come on. We’re going out.”

“No thank you,” Bucky said snorting, “I really don’t want to have to carry your drunk ass home. Or listen to you spout Poli-sci bullshit to try and get girls.”

“Well the girls we’re going with are gonna be completely unavailable and uninterested. We’re gonna hit the tap room and watch the game.” Steve frowned at his friend who kept glancing at his laptop like he was waiting on something. 

“What did you do, Bucky?” he asked folding his arms.

“Nothing,” he huffed.

“Well if you scowl at your computer any harder it’s gonna burst into flames.”

“I’m just waiting on an email,” he said feeling uncomfortable under Steve’s scrutiny. Squirming slightly in his chair. 

“Who are you picking a fight with now?” Steve scolded.

“I’m not.”

“James.”

“I don’t know what she teaches. Some social science thing. But she leaves the lecture hall a mess and reeking of flavored coffee.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?” he snapped.

“Missing Yelena and taking it out on some random girl that’s just slightly messy.”

“I’m not.” he said petulantly, “It’s unprofessional to take up my time.”

Steve restrained an eyeroll with effort, “C’mon, ya grumpy fuck. You like Nat fine. And Sam is coming. You can’t just rot in your house and forget how to live forever.”

“Fuck you.”

“Yeah yeah,” Steve said dismissively, “Pick you up at 7.” And he was gone before Bucky had a chance to formulate a reply.

The truth was complicated. Bucky knew exactly what you taught. The Anthropology of Religion. Folklore. Witchcraft. He’d read everything you had ever written. He followed your Twitter. He just. He didn’t understand you. You had a mind suited for numbers. Logical. Straight forward. Applying science and advocating for greater understanding with reckless abandon. 

But all you studied was... Stories. None of it was real. it was smoke and shadows. Illusions. He could only assume you were the same way. An illusion. You were pretty enough. Funny. But there had to be something... broken inside you. Something that you were hiding. Something to be wary of. He just didn’t know how to explain that to Steve. 

Numbers he understood. They were what they were regardless. If there was a mistake, he made it. There was no one else to blame with numbers. They sang to him like nothing else did. They spoke to him and whispered secrets. 

They made him think of being warm in bed with a book of number puzzles and a cup of hot chocolate on a snow day. The joy of solving a problem he’d been teasing at for days. It was happiness in its purest form. Accomplishment. Order from chaos.

You were chaos to which he saw no order. He couldn’t find a pattern to you. A nimbus of coffee and lost trains of thought. Bucky did not understand you and as he stared at his laptop, waiting for a reply, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. 

He decidedly didn’t want to. And he couldn’t wait for the semester to be over.

Tags: @lancsnerd @blameitonthecauseway @thorfanficwriter @stevieang @etherealwaifgoddess

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

Love How You Hate Me - Sam x Reader

A/N: I know I said I was busy. And I am... I’m going to be at work when this posts. But, I got really into redoing it. And didn’t know if I’d have time after work. So...here we are! Part eight was queued up. As usual, feedback is always incredible. If you want tagged, please send an ask or message so I for sure see it. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Sexual Tension. Upcoming smut. 

Word Count: Roughly 3,700

“How's your shoulder?” Sam asked Dean when the oldest flinched lightly while climbing into the passenger seat.

“It's gonna need to be reset. Definitely dislocated.” He gritted out as he leaned his head back into the leather. Luckily, Dean didn't turn around. Your swollen lips, heated face, and lightly sin marked skin would have given you and Sam away in under two seconds.  “How you holdin' up?”

“I'll be good.” You answered as the Impala pulled out of the clearing, moving down the small dirt road to get back to the motel. Removing the wrappers from the gauze. “Might take a little while to heal, but -”

“You should have Cas check it out.” Dean didn't hesitate. Jumping into protector mode. Despite the fact that he was injured, himself.

“It'll heal just fine on its own.” You stated simply. Using a half empty bottle of whiskey that was in the vehicle to soak the material in your hand. “No need to bug, Cas.” You paused for a second as you pressed the material into the wound. Hissing at the burn. “You know...” Gritted teeth didn't stop the path you'd decided to take, “unless you just miss him.”

Dean knew where you were going, “Don't-”

“Destiel.” You cooed mockingly. Wince be damned. A deep, pained sigh left Dean.

“You're never going to let that go, are you?” He grumbled. Crossing his arms in disgust as he pouted.

“Never.” The promise was easy to get out. He'd told you about the incident at a small Michigan high school to cheer you up the night of your nightmare. It hadn't worked well then, but it helped in that moment.

“You told her about that?” Sam shook his head. Snickering all the while. “Dude, you should know better than to fuel her. Look what I get.”

“Uh, yeah. Right here.” You huffed out in the back as you started working on covering your cleaned wound. The last thing you needed was a random person seeing a gouge out of your neck. “Also, pretty sure this can be stitched.”

“Cas could-”

“Dean... No.” You insisted again. Taping the edges of the clean gauze to your skin. “Castiel can't be using all of his grace on me.” The hunter opened his mouth to argue, but you weren't having it. “Now, drop it. Cas has his own shit going on. If he wants to pop in and visit? Fine.” Dean's mouth slammed shut. Teeth grinding at your answer. “But, we're not forcing him to rush over and use up all his grace just because of a scratch.”

“That's a scratch?” Sam interjected. Looking up into the mirror as if you were insane.

“Compared to the victims? Yeah. It's a scratch.” He snorted at your answer. You mocked the sound, muttering about him needing to mind his own business. Dean's lips quirked lightly at the sound. Any worry he'd had started to die down.

“She's stubborn, Sammy.” The oldest brother stated easily, getting more comfortable in his seat. “No one can go out of their way for her.”

“Not true-”

“So, why can't I call Cas up for you, again?” You didn't have a good answer. Simply sputtered some more nonsense about not harassing the angel, and that was that. “See what I mean?” He looked over at his brother in fake exasperation. “God save whoever is stupid enough to fall in love with her.” Sam chuckled at that. Already shaking his head for whoever the poor bastard would be.

“You're just so funny.” You fake laughed before reaching forward to swat at the older brother's spiked hair. “Jack ass.” Dean cackled, proud of his ability to annoy you. The more Sam looked, the more he only saw the sibling relations between you and Dean. Thank God, the thought landed before he could stop it, otherwise Dean would've killed me for today. “Don't look back here,” Your warning broke through his daydreams. Typical blood splatter might've been unnoticeable on the black clothing. However, the leakage from your neck matted down the cotton. Too obvious to risk. “These clothes are wrecked. Gotta change.”

“In the car?” Sam's voice cracked as he thought of the skin he'd just gotten to feel being exposed. It took all his willpower not to turn his head.

“I'm sure you and Dean have both done far worse in this very car.” You huffed out, pulling off your shirt. The stretching of the muscles pulled a bit at the wound and medical tape along your skin, making you grit your teeth. “I know I have.”

“You lech.” Your best friend teased. Already knowing what you were talking about. You’d borrowed the Impala for a day back before moving in.

“Only for the right people.” You grunted out, searching for a spare in the back. As your head popped back up, you caught some movement from the corner of your eye. Deep brown and gold eyes were glancing to the rear view mirror far more often than needed. The gaze connected with your E/C in the mirror. Making you freeze. You didn't move away until your phone sounded. Breaking the spell effectively. “Bane? Hey, what's up?”

“Hey, Y/N...” The slow drawl of your name grabbed your attention. “We, uh...we have some news.”

“Don't you dare tell me she's in labor.” You stated seriously. Unable to stand the thought of not being there for the birth. Being there for your family.

That caught the guys' attention. Dean spun around, only to connect his face with your palm. You shoved his head back forward and away from your half naked torso. Sam turned back to the road. Deciding it was better to keep his head forward after he swerved Baby.

“Not yet. She's going in for a c-section.” Bane answered, his voice shaking lightly. Still in shock.“The baby is going to be here tomorrow afternoon.”

“Well, congratulations daddy. You get to see your baby girl tomorrow-��

“Boy!” Sam hollered loudly. Immediately, your face dropped into the bitchface he'd passed on to anyone in his vicinity. The familiar bickering made Bane chuckle.  

“We'll be there in time.” The confirmation seemed to help. A sigh of relief sounded over the speaker. It would entail some speeding. However, if a cop pulled you over? You had no problem knocking them out and bailing. Nothing was going to slow you down.

A timer went off. Telling you he was cooking before the big day, “You guys finish up the hunt?”

The change of subject was nothing more than a way to get his mind off of his nerves. You didn't protest. Giving Bane something else to focus on.

“Yeah, just wrapped it up.” You answered readily.

Another glance up showed the deepening hazel gaze back on you. Reminding you of the fact that the rise and fall of your breasts' slopes were visible to Sam. Your tongue darted out. The immature action only earned a hint of those dimples while Dean fiddled with his radio.

“Any injuries?”  Bane jumped straight to business.

“Nothing serious.” It was shrugged off. The action making you wince a bit. “Back to baby talk.”

“Meaning you were hit.” He sighed out. But, he'd been around long enough to know you weren't going there. “But fine, baby talk.” You smiled fondly at his response.

“Are you two getting excited?”  Maneuvering yourself into the large, green plaid flannel while holding the phone was tricky. But, you managed it.

“We've been excited.” Came the laugh. “But, yeah. I can't wait to hold him or her.” Your heart went all fuzzy at the easy statement.

“How's Alice holding up knowing she's about to be split in half with a scalpel?” You questioned seriously. Worry shining through bright and strong.

You saw Sam's brow's rise quickly in the mirror  at the statement while Dean turned back sharply, catching his shoulder in the process. A muttered curse left him at the sudden pain, before he could even realize you hadn't buttoned up the shirt you'd stolen.

“She's getting edgy.” He replied honestly. Lowering his voice so that his significant other couldn't hear the conversation. “She wants you there. Says she can't do it without you.”

“I said I'd be there, didn't I?”

“She wants you in the room.” That caught you off guard. You'd anticipated hours of sitting in the waiting room, bickering with Sam over the sex of the child. “She doesn't have a mom...you're the closest thing she has to a sister.”

“Give her a huge hug, and tell her I love her.” You finally got out, clearing the lump in your throat. “And that I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

You could hear the smile in his voice, “We love you, too.”

“I'll see you tomorrow, okay? I've gotta kick a couple of boys' asses into gear.” Another laugh sounded before he let you go. “You two hear that? We have to leave. ASAP.” The order was given without a second thought as you discarded your phone. Only moving to button up your shirt.

“Did he give a time?” Sam pressed on the gas a little harder. Not needing the prompting, after all.

“Some time afternoon. That's all I have.” You stated seriously. Pressing back down on the medical tape that was trying to pop up. “So, no after hunt party for us.”

All plans you'd been anticipating no longer mattered. There'd be no one night stand with the chauvinistic cowboy. No blacking out with booze. Instead, you leaned back in your seat. Brushing off a piece of lint that stuck to Sam's green shirt.

–

There'd been no sleep. Your eyes were heavy. The stitched up wound on your neck throbbed. And, yet? None of it bothered you as you sat on the couch.

“She's beautiful.” The infant in your arms yawned wide. Tired from the trauma of being born. Your finger stroked along the too soft cheek.

“Hey,” Sam's low voice broke the quiet as he walked in. Brother in tow. “Pink?” A tiny, yarn hat covered the baby's scalp. “It's a girl?”

“Ava Marie.” Alice spoke the name proudly from her bed. Softly smiling at the sight of you holding her child.

“Feel free to kiss my feet, and beg for my forgiveness.” You sniffed delicately. False offense in full form. “You completely discredited my intuition. Not for the first time.” Sam's eyes rolled in good nature. Not breaking the serenity in the small room.

“Let me see her,” Dean plopped beside you, peeking at the little girl's face. “She's got a lot of her mom in her.” He smiled lightly, reaching a finger out to the tiny hand that stretched out as a little squeak escaped tiny lips. A tiny piece of black escaped the confines of the hat. “Except that hair. That's all Bane.”

“How are you holding up?” Sam asked Alice, sitting down on the end of the bed. Checking in on the other main woman of the hour.

“Starting to get sore.” Her hand lightly ran over her stomach. Wincing a bit as she shifted. “But, it was worth it.” Bane kissed her forehead, and wrapped his fingers around her hand. Holding her in comfort.

“You're in for trouble, little miss.” You smiled down at the baby, letting your finger caress the silky skin again. Entranced by the tiny being. “You're going to grow up so loved, you won't know what to do with it all.” Forgetting about the other people in the room, you whispered gently. “Whenever you mess up? Someone will be right there to pick you up. Keep you safe...you just wait and see.” The oath was coupled with a tender kiss to the her little forehead. Earning a soft little sigh that melted your heart.

Sam turned his head your way. Letting himself absorb the words he'd caught. Realizing that you were promising everything that you'd grown up without. Security. Love. Loyalty.

Alice's eyes had watered up and welled over lightly at your words. Partially from the hormones, and from the sincerity in your voice. Not for the first time, he wondered what had all happened in your poor excuse of a childhood.

“Pass her up.” The younger Winchester slid over to the seat next to you. Making sure you didn't have a chance to think about what you'd said in front of everyone.

“No way. Get your own.” You moved closer to Dean. Trusting him to aid you in protecting the child from the ultimate prankster. Only to have her swiped into the older brother's arms. “What the hell? Traitor!”

“Get your own,” Came the repeated phrase. Your bottom lip slipped out, but it did no good. You'd been replaced for an eight pound little girl.“Heya, sweetheart.” His deep voice made her stir lightly in her sleep. “When are you going to let me see those eyes, huh?” The calloused hand of his bad arm stroked her cheek so gently it was criminal. Any grumbling had long been forgotten as you watched him interact with Ava.

You got to your feet, and moved over to sit next to Alice. Leaving the once gruff man to turn into pudding while his brother scooted closer. Your hand wrapped into hers in silent support. Not moving an inch, you let her head lean over to rest on your shoulder. Quiet exhaustion making itself known. Bane's arm snaked around, making contact with you and Alice. Holding his growing family together, again.

“Hey, beautiful.” You'd never heard such soft words leave Sam before that moment. “I'm you're Uncle Sam...” A low, shuddering breath left him when the baby's hand wrapped around one of his fingers. “You remember me?” All he got in return was a small grunt paired with lip smacking. But, it was more than enough.

His bright eyes met yours, and for the first time, he sent you a grin. An honest to god beam. Dimples curved into his cheeks. The brows bounced as his eyes lit up even more. You'd thought he was devastatingly handsome when angry, but in that moment? You got your first real glimpse at how it felt not to be despised by Sam Winchester.

Something that wouldn't last. Your face fell a bit at the reminder. You turned your eyes away from his. Cuddling more into Alice to chase away the feeling of being alone...

–

Before you knew it, Ava Marie was a month old. Smiling up at anyone who got too close. The happiest, gummiest child you'd ever seen. Each one stealing your heart all over again.

You'd moved in to help with the baby. Giving Alice time to heal. Taking care of the mundane chores so Bane could come home from work and immediately jump into the role of a doting father rather than maid.

Not only did it give you extra time with your goddaughter, but it also kept you away from Sam. Away from the tension that never seemed to leave since that damned kiss. It kept your sanity in tact. His visits were bad enough.

His eyes always let you know that he hadn't forgotten that foolish moment. That he still remembered seeing you afterwards. It didn't matter what you were doing, or how hard you'd avoided it, you still ended up catching the heat from his gaze. Every time, you were left squirming uncomfortably in your seat. Something that Sam seemed to enjoy far too much.

Dean wasn't clueless. Although he'd never even graduated high school, he was smart. More than you liked. Every look he caught, or hint of mischief on his brother's face? Led to nothing short of suspicion.

He hadn't seen you two around each other enough to put it together. Thankfully. But, the time would come where he would. And you dreaded it.

By the time you got home, they were long gone. Back to the lives of hunters. Not that you minded. In fact, the relief was incredible.

Sam's words had made you edgy, “We're not done.” You weren't prepared to handle the weight of them. Didn't know what it'd mean for life at the bunker.

You did it to yourself, you'd decided as you sprawled out on your bed for the first time since Ava had gone home. Unable to enjoy the give of your mattress, so lost in your own thoughts. You were the one who had instigated the sexual banter with your innuendos. You may not have given into it first, but you'd certainly been the one to not let him back out of the kiss.

And by doing so? You'd set yourself up. Not only for a long bought of sexually frustrated nights filled with images of the younger Winchester. But, he'd invaded your days. Your conscious mind swirled around it time and time again. It was maddening.

You sighed as you turned onto your stomach, letting your hand support your head. Trying to take your mind off of it wasn't working. But, the show Salem was twisted enough to assist. Just as it started working, your door crept open, and the moose himself walked in.

“I thought you two were gone?” You hated that he walked in without knocking, catching you off guard. Not nearly as clothed as you needed to be for the interaction. Only a green tank and matching pair of cheeksters covered you.

You felt more than a little exposed as you felt his gaze burning into your skin for the second time. But, you didn't let your eyes connect with his. They remained glued on the screen.

“Finished up early.” He replied, trying to focus more on your cool attitude than the bare skin that was exposed to him. It wasn't working so hot. Sam cleared his throat, turning the conversation to something a bit safer. “How's Alice?”

“Glowing with motherhood.” You didn't even glance at him. He'd be lying if he said his jaw didn't tick at the lack of response. “Where's Dean?”

“Left for a night out. Figured you'd still be over there until tomorrow, when Bane was off.” The bed dipped. Your body tensed as he made himself comfortable. Determined to make you notice him.

In your dreams, he would have pounced. Refusing to take even the slightest bit of disobedience. But, in real life? Sam was more subtle than that. His hand grazed the skin of your thigh as he got comfortable. No other contact with you. Just resting close enough to torture. To force you to be aware of just how close he was.

“What do you think you're doing?” Your voice was supposed to have a hard edge, but the effect was lost among the breath you released at the same time.

“This looks interesting. What is it?” He ignored your question. Another tiny, almost undetectable movement along your heightened skin made you shift. The touch just against your hip had you taking a deep breath. Reciting exorcisms in your head to block him out. “Well?” He didn't like being ignored. Another feather light touch was your punishment.

“Salem.” You huffed out, not so subtly pulling away. It didn't work. He simply followed. Getting more comfortable on your bed. Bastard.

“What's it about?” His voice was filled with husky undertones that made you shift lightly as you tried to ignore him.

The minute you looked into his eyes, you were a goner. You knew it. So, you resisted. Only, he grew more bold the more you didn't stop him. Ignored him. A bit more direct contact until his hand was resting just beneath your butt.

“Sam?” Your voice was unsteady, but hard enough to catch his attention a bit as you broke. “I don't want to play games...What are you doing?”

“Trying to get past the wall of ice you threw up.” His fingers pressed into your skin lightly. Causing a shiver to trace over your skin. “Is it working?”

“No.” You kept your voice as stern as you could, and he froze. Your eyes closed as you forced the words past your lips. “I'm all about no strings attached sex, Sam. Just not with you.”

“So, what the hell was that scene by the Impala?” Horny and confused was a dangerous combination. One you wanted to take advantage of. But, didn't dare.

“After hunt adrenaline rush.” You shrugged, still refusing to look at him. Using every bit of strength you possessed. “You started it, Sam...I just responded to the high.”

There was no doubt in either of your minds that you were lying. That's why you wouldn't meet his gaze. Why you refused to get too close.

“Got it,” He let his fingers tighten once more on your skin before getting up. Drawing a sharp in-drawn breath from you. “So, we go back to how things were? Act like it never happened?”

“Precisely.” The answer was too fast. Too breathy. A wry smile crossed Sam's face as he looked down at you. Noting the rigidness in your spine.

“If you insist.” His tone made your skin prickle. There was something in it that reminded you of just who you were dealing with. What all he had to get even for. “Night, Y/N.” Your name was a caress on his lips.

“Night, Samuel.” You retorted, as if your sass would be enough to protect you. The thrill of the challenge only increased the allure. And Sam was nothing if not willing to rise to it...

Part Nine

Tag: @burningmusicmachine​ @missmarrinette​ @sherlockedtash88​ @rathersuspiciousbumblebee​ @sasbb23​ @nothinbuttrouble2​ @baby-bunker-pie​ @neii3n​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​ @supernaturalginger​

[mirai-desu]

Honoring the Eurovision Song Contest Songs 2020

Georgia 🇬🇪

“Take Me As I Am” by Tornike Kipiani

Written by Tornike Kipiani

The winner of Georgian Idol also again received the prize to represent the country at Eurovision, and this year it was to be Tornike, who then penned this slow rock song. He wants you to take and love him as he is, and not a man from any of the Big Five countries, lol.

Tornike has been selected by the broadcaster to represent Georgia next year!

Favorite Part: The JE T’AIMEEEEEEEEE at 2:19.

[swcctserpentarchive]

can i get uh all the texts

TEXT MEME !  ↳ ACCEPTING // @trickarrowd​

send ✆ for a MORNING text.

[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  kick me during the night again and it’s over for you[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  I might love you but I will smother you

send ✉ for a text that WASN’T SENT.

[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  you know what’s a lot easier than dealing with the fact that you watched a man die? drinking! [ deleted ]

send ☎ for a RUSHED text.

[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  late for practice I’ll see you after

send ⁇ for a DRUNK text.

[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  i am … lots[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  los t [ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  i’m lost [ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  he lp

send ✿ for a SUGGESTIVE text.

[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  can you suck on that fucking lollipop like a normal person before I have a meltdown in the middle of calc 

send ø for a LATE NIGHT text.

[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  what do you think hot dog would say if he could talk[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  I keep trying to sleep but that’s all I can think about

send ✘ for a HATEFUL text.

[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  I swear to god I’m gonna kill that junkie FREAK for what he tried to do to fangs[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  remind me why homicide’s a bad idea again

send # for a RANDOM text.

[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  my sister lost her cat, she’s distraught about it[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  can you come help me look for it 

send @ for a SCARED text.

[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  I know it’s hard but can you please try and quit[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  because watching you trip was fucking terrifying and I never want to see you like that again 

send & for a LOVING text.

[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  ordered chinese, set up the blanket nest, got all the good shit queued up on netflix[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  just waiting for you babe [ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  I know it can’t fix a bad day like the one you had but I gotta try

send % for a CURIOUS text.

[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  so how many fucking rooms does ollie’s mcmansion have again

send ツ for an EXCITED text.

[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  we just kicked the bulldogs ASSES holy shit[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  I can’t believe you missed it man

send $ for an ACCIDENTAL text.

[ TEXT: MA ]  I keep telling you, if you want to invite him over for dinner, just do it[ TEXT: MA ]  just please don’t let nainai interrogate him and/or make grandson-in-law jokes

send ♀ for a HEARTBREAKING text.

[ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  it’s not working roy [ deleted ][ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  I can’t be that scared all the time [ deleted ][ TEXT: ROY 🎯 ]  I can’t be worried about you every minute of the day, worried that you’re going to die [ deleted ]