#like if janice were still being played by a woman there would be no question she was doing this

[spirk-trek]

absolutely surreal to see william shatner seduce a man on the 1960s space show (don't worry there's a woman possessing his body)

[masamihanazawa]

Fantastic Mr. Fox Part 2 || Masami + Emilio

Timing: Last night Location: Masami's house Feat: @masamihanazawa & @mortemoppetere Warnings: Surgery tw Summary: Emilio comes over to help remove a bullet from Masami

Masami was stuck with his snout between the wooden posts of the balcony bannister. He was waiting diligently for Emilio to arrive, the front door was likely to still be wide open after the short fight that ended up with him getting in contact with a man he purposefully told to keep away. Humans never did have good luck with him, except maybe Janice but she was a spellcaster and didn’t count. He was sure Janice was secretly an eldritch monster playing as a human, if he was being honest. The woman could strike a fear so deep inside him she had to be otherworldly. That being said, she was his best friend and someone he could always rely on when it came to clinic matters. The only problem was she was currently out of the country on a well deserved vacation seeing the sights of the Caribbean from a fancy cruise ship.  

All his other options were one night stands and Emilio. Masami was never good at deleting numbers from his phone, though he guessed it paid off in this regard as he heard the footsteps downstairs. “Up here! Watch you don’t slip on the blood. I can't patch you up right now!” He called from his sorry spot on the floor. He hadn’t really ever expected to show his true self to the other man but shifting was out of the question at the moment, he didn’t have the strength to bother with it. “Get in the closet, there’s a blue bag and wooden box with a cherry tree carved into it. Grab both, Ignore the pearl on the pillow, it's useless.” The hoshi no tama that laid on the pillow only held one soul and was practically powerless but he refused to put any more in there. 

—

Emilio had never been particularly good at friendships. He’d tried, as a kid. He’d tried to branch out to other kids at hunter camp, but those interested in befriending other campers were often taken aback by some of the more… extreme measures employed by Elena Cortez, and those whose parents had similar mindsets didn’t tend to be interested in socializing. As he grew older, he’d started to understand the reason for that. Befriending hunters was like investing everything you had into something you knew would be gone in only a short amount of time, and befriending humans felt impossible. Emilio gave up, after a while. He had his wife, had Rhett and his siblings. He hadn’t needed much else.

Of course, then he lost everything. Starting over was hard when you didn’t much feel like starting at all. He’d come to Wicked’s Rest with no intention of befriending anyone, had figured he’d be in town a few months before something finally killed him, anyway. He hadn’t counted on the town’s residents being so goddamn stubborn. He hadn’t counted on so many people clinging to him and refusing to let go.

Still, when it was on Emilio to keep up that contact… things tended to fade. Masami was a prime example of it. Emilio reached out a time or two, but the vet rarely responded. And Emilio wasn’t good at pushing, wasn’t skilled in knowing when to try harder and when to give in. It didn’t help that his perception of time was so often thrown out of whack. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure if it had been months or weeks or years since the last message he sent or the last he received in return. Everything blended together.

And then, Masami reached out to him. 

It wasn’t something Emilio had expected. Part of him wasn’t even sure what to do with the message. Maybe there was a pang of… something there, some quiet offense at Masami reaching out only when he needed something, but Emilio was hardly one who could complain about such a thing. After all, hadn’t most of his interactions with Masami been because he needed something the vet could provide? 

It wasn’t cold out, but he grabbed his jacket, anyway. He pulled the sleeves down over the still healing wounds on his arms that Aesil had left him with, made sure the matching ones on his legs weren’t exposed by any tears in his jeans. He loaded his pockets with the usual — knives, stakes, rosaries, holy water, duct tape — and headed out. 

Entering Masami’s house upon arrival, he glanced around for the other man. Strangely, he didn’t see him anywhere, but his voice called up from the top of the stairs. Emilio shrugged, heading for the closet. “Don’t spend a lot of time playing with pearls, anyway,” he replied dryly, grabbing the items Masami had requested and making his way to the stairs. “The hell did you get yourself into? You’re supposed to be the —” He stopped as he reached the top of the stairs, faltering. There, on the ground, where he thought Masami’s voice had come from, was a fox. Emilio stared at it for a moment, closing his eyes. A kitsune. Masami was a kitsune. God. Was anyone in this town human?

“Well, doc,” he said slowly, “I can help you patch up the bullet wound, but if you need someone to make you a real boy again, you called the wrong guy.” 

—

Masami had felt a little guilty reaching out to Emilio now of all times after pushing him away but a simple human wasn’t safe coming over to his clinic so much. The shifters there often held grudges against humans for the wrongs committed to them, even if they were hunters, and others simply wanted a snack. Emilio was bound to get hurt sooner or later if he stayed next to him. It also helped that Emilio rarely reached out to him to talk. It made keeping the distance easier, he also guessed Perro was doing well seeing as he hadn’t broken in recently to get the dog looked over. That was a relief in and of itself, more for the sake of the man now in front of him than the dog itself. 

Though now he wasn’t so sure Emilio was just the sad pathetic man that kept waltzing in on his own given how unsurprised he seemed at who Masami was. He wasn’t sure if he should be regretting his decision to message him or not now. At least Emilio still seemed willing to help him. With a grunt he pulled himself up, dragging his useless back half behind him as he moved closer. “I don’t need you to patch it up, just get the bullet out. Plus you’d probably just stick some duct tape on me and leave. That’s not in the bag, if you go back downstairs to get it I will bite you.” The hoshi no tama sitting in the box would fix all of this, but he didn’t want to have to deal with a piece of metal still being stuck inside as the spine healed itself. 

He wanted to feel nervous about the fact someone he thought he had pegged was now holding all but one of his pearls, but something about Emilio just made it impossible. Maybe it was because he had seen the man before him in such a vulnerable state when Perro got sick. “Put the box down in front of me, preferably where I can reach it.” He didn’t mind dragging himself if Emilio really made him do it but it was exhausting. “Some crazed woman broke in and shot me. She’s in the dining room.” He’d have to go investigate her more once he was able to move freely again. Still something else more important than her popped up as Masami shifted closer. 

At first he thought the scent of blood was just his but now he could tell the other man was hurt, “You should have said you were injured.” He grumbled out, he wouldn’t have made Emilio come over if he had known. His eyes narrowed, on the other knowing full well he’d be bothering him to show him what happened once he was fixed himself, right now he was useless. He couldn’t even make it halfway across the room in his state, having stopped at the midway point and flopping down while talking to the other man. His golden eyes were barely keeping open at this point and he opted to just close them rather than trying to force them open. “If you don’t hurry I’m going to pass out before I can heal.” 

—

It was strange, hearing a human voice come out of an animal. Emilio had experienced something similar with Wyatt, twice now, but that didn’t make it any less jarring. It was hard not to stare for a moment, even knowing everything he knew about kitsune and the like. (Which, to be entirely fair, wasn’t substantial; being married to a ranger had awarded him more knowledge about shifters than most, but kitsune were rare enough that Juliana hadn’t gone into much detail in regards to what they were capable of.) 

Opening the medical bag, Emilio dug out a pair of tweezers that he figured was his best bet at removing a bullet. Glancing to the fox, he snorted and shoved a hand into his jacket pocket to retrieve the roll of duct tape he’d stuffed inside before leaving the house. “Brought my own,” he said flatly. “Might be more interested in using it to cover your mouth if you keep talking, though. Kind of need to focus on this unless you want me making shit worse.” And Emilio really, really didn’t want to go about making shit worse. Masami was… something. A friend, maybe, even if Emilio hadn’t spoken to him in ages now. A guy capable of helping him out if his dog or Teddy’s otter or whatever other animals the ex-demon brought home needed fixing. A guy worth helping, regardless of those other two things.

“She dead?” He glanced down the stairs, though he was fairly sure he knew the answer. If the woman were alive, Masami probably would have made that the priority. “You want me to bury a body, you gotta sweeten the pot.” It wasn’t as if it would have been the first time Emilio had been tasked with such a thing. He thought of the hunter Andy had killed with a grimace, wondered if the woman in the kitchen who was likely already a corpse had heritage similar to his own, too. What sort of hunter was he now? Nearly a year after Andy’s knife ended that hunter’s life, and he still wasn’t sure. 

He looked back to Masami as the fox spoke again, bristling a little. “I’m not,” he snapped, setting aside the tape to grip the tweezers tightly. “You’re the one who’s got a bullet in him. Which I can only dig out if you stop talking. Hold still, this is going to fucking suck.” He gave no further warning before diving in.

—

“It won’t matter if you make shit worse.” Not really. The hoshi no tama would fix it not that he was particularly happy to be using one but what choice did he have? It was bad enough he was missing one leg; he didn't need the other out of commission. “Of course you brought duct tape.” Masami muttered out wondering just what Emilio bothered bringing it for before falling silent as the tweezers started digging around in his back. There was some pain but not a lot, nothing compared to when he bit his own leg off, so it was tolerable. He laid patiently, keeping still until Emilio finally pulled the troublesome piece of metal out. 

“She’s dead but I don’t want you burying the body. I need to take a look at it.” He resumed talking once his friend was done playing around near his spine. “You can’t lie to my nose, I know you’re hurt.” He shuffled over to his box, nuzzling it open and looking at the pearls inside. Each one swirled with the many souls trapped within. A mix of hunters and those who just happened to wrong Masami or someone he knew, along with a few innocents who were unlucky enough to meet him during his rather rough period. In all 500 years of his life he had only had to use his hoshi no tama once before. It was never a great experience feeling the loss of a tail and Masami found himself hesitating before lowering his mouth and picking up the oldest jewel in the box. 

100 souls lay clenched within his teeth, soon to be released and to be rather angry at their imprisonment. Though thankfully none of them would linger around his house, at least not at first. “Don’t freak out.” Masami’s muffled words came out around the jewel before he bit down. The lights in the house flicked as the temperature dropped and poltergeists burst from their imprisonment. The angry souls clambered along the walls and the floor in a desperate attempt to escape before finding their exit through the window. The tail that sat in the middle of the five slowly faded into a golden light that embraced Masami. It was warm and welcoming, mending what was torn and broken before dissipating into the night. 

He pulled himself up to sit, head bowed in grief over the loss before he turned back to Emilio. “Show me where you’re hurt and if you say you’re not again I will use my foxfire to taze you and take a look myself!” He grumbled out moving towards his room to fetch some clean clothes. There was door connecting his room to the little lounge they were in so it didn’t take long before he shifted, “Fuck, I forgot my leg bring it here!” Luckily he was able to lean against the wall and get some sort of pajama pants on before Emilio could come over. “Once I patch you up we’ll have to go take a look at the girl. Things were weird about her.” 

—

“Doesn’t mean I want to do it,” Emilio replied irritably. Kitsune had some kind of healing abilities, evidently; Masami probably wouldn’t have been trusting Emilio so close to his spine otherwise. Still, having the ability to heal didn’t always ease the pain that came along with it. Emilio’s bad leg flared as if in reminder, making him think about just how badly it could be when things healed poorly. The quality of healing, he figured, was far more important than the speed of it. And he didn’t want to do anything to fuck up the quality of Masami’s healing.

It wasn’t a particularly fun process, but it wasn’t the first time Emilio had fished a foreign object out of someone. It was easier, he thought, to do this on someone else than it was to do it on yourself. Not having to feel every centimeter of movement the tweezers made made it far easier to concentrate. He dropped the bullet onto the carpet, wiping his hands absently on his shirt. “Looking at her won’t make her any less dead, you know,” he said flatly, nostrils flaring briefly as Masami mentioned his nose. Fucking shifters. Enhanced senses weren’t the kind of thing Emilio knew how to combat. 

He didn’t think it was important now, in any case. He was far more interested in whatever it was Masami was doing with the box he’d asked Emilio to fetch. The contents looked like jewels of some kind or another, though Emilio had no idea what they were for. He watched as Masami picked one up, head tilting absently to the side. “Not the kind of guy who freaks out,” he replied. True to his word, he looked more curious than freaked as Masami bit down on the jewel. Unable to see the spirits exiting the thing, he was unaware of anything that preceded one of the fox’s tails slowly fading. “Huh,” he commented, leaning back.

He bristled a little as Masami turned back to him, walls going up quickly. “You taze me and I’ll shove this bullet back in you,” he threatened, getting to his feet with some difficulty. He found Masami’s leg while the vet changed, tucking it under his arm and carrying it to the bedroom. “Already patched up. Happened a while ago, and it’s fine. Don’t need you to tell me what I already know. Rather find out things I don’t. What was weird about her?” A quick change of subject was one of Emilio’s favorite defense tactics to employ in situations like this one.

—

“I’d like to see you try. Did you patch yourself up? If you did, then I don’t trust it.” Masami hopped over to the bed after taking his leg from Emilio. “How long ago?” He plopped on the edge, the memory foam contouring to him as he rolled his pant leg up. “I’ll tell you after I make sure you didn’t fuck up your wounds.” Masami was used to the deflection tactics employed by the other man and more than ready to dance around them right back to the point at hand. The dead girl wasn’t going anywhere, she could wait five more minutes for Masami to put his mind at ease over whatever happened to the human in front of him. 

Then again maybe he didn’t have the right to care so much after pushing the other man away, but he was never one who could ignore someone hurt right in front of him. Well at least most people hurt right in front of him. He’d watch many hunters begging for help only to bleed out as he ignored them. Masami couldn’t forgive them and he wasn’t sure he ever really tried. From the death of his daughter to the countless shifters that had also lost loved ones to the hands of hunters, there was no reason he could find to even give them a chance. They didn’t deserve it when their whole point of living was to kill him and those like him. How many families had been ruined for some paycheck or some sick sense of justice? 

As far as he knew Emilio wasn’t a hunter, he was human and how he knew what a kitsune was could be discussed later, though he didn’t seem to know much about anything other than the fact he could shift. “Don’t tell people about the pearls. I’m fucked if others find out where I keep them.” Masami leaned over, pulling the wooden leg up to the stump and tightening the straps on it. It was old, not as old as the fox himself but still something he had carried for a very long time. Just like everything else he owned he would keep it till it could no longer be used. 

—

“I’ll do a lot better than try. And I’ve been patching myself up just fine for a long time now, so I think I’m good.” He dodged the question on how long it had been, uncertain on how to go about answering. It had been nearly two weeks, albeit with a few sessions of Emilio reopening his wounds thanks to his inability to sit still. That wasn’t what he was worried about, though. If Masami did get a good look at the injuries, the cuts he saw wouldn’t look two weeks old. Hunters healed fast. A normal human would still need stitches to keep their skin together, at this point in the healing process. Emilio was a lot further along than that. And if Masami was a shifter…

It wasn’t as if Emilio didn’t understand why hunters weren’t the most popular people in supernatural circles. He’d had run-ins with more than a few himself since his own shift in morality, and he could only imagine how much worse it was for people who’d likely spent their entire lives running away from them… or worse. He wasn’t sure Masami considered him a friend, but he wasn’t sure he wanted the guy as an enemy, either. Petty men made inconvenient enemies. Emilio knew that better than most, even if he was usually the petty man in question. 

He rolled his eyes, waving a hand in Masami’s direction. “Who the fuck would I tell? I don’t go around sharing what I found in people’s closets with anyone who isn’t paying me. And you’re not interesting enough for anyone to want to investigate.” It was a promise, just without the words. He had no intention of blabbing to anyone about what he’d seen. He had half a mind to ask Masami to repay the favor by not telling Teddy he was here instead of hanging out around the house and ‘healing’ or whatever they’d told him to do before disappearing into the basement, but doing so would mean admitting that the kitsune wasn’t the only one who thought Emilio was going to keel over just standing up. He didn’t need Teddy and Masami joining forces about this. He didn’t need Teddy and Masami joining forces about anything. “Look, this is a waste of time. I’m not bleeding, you magicked your bullet wound all up, can we please go look at a dead body?”

—

“I doubt you could even catch me with that leg of yours.” Like Masami was one to talk about bad legs, but at least in fox form having one missing wasn’t as big of a deal as it was for Emilio who had to deal with a fucked up knee. “Using duct tape does not count as patching up.” He stared hard at the other man familiar with his stubbornness. “Why can’t you let a doctor be a doctor and look you over? I haven’t seen you in almost a year and you can’t even let me give you a check up?” It wasn’t like Masami hadn’t seen Emilio with his shirt off before. “What’s got you so spooked about it? I’m not going to stab you with anything, at least not today. Just going to take a look.” 

This was quickly turning into two stubborn old men who refused to budge, but that seemed like their MO. Masami would reach out trying to care even a little bit and Emilio would dodge him like some mixed martial artist. He was half tempted to knock the other man out. He’d have to adjust his control a little bit on the foxfire, after losing one tail there was an imbalance back there, but just enough of a shock to get Emilio to be cooperative wouldn’t be that hard to muster. He wasn’t out to fry his brains like he did with the mushroom girl. 

“I’m more interesting than you think. But I get it, thank you.” Masami was smart enough to know when and when not to use those words. He was dead certain Emilio wasn’t a fae, another group he had problems with. In fact the only ones Masami seemed to get along with were the ones already dead and the shifters that came and went from his clinic. Regular humans were kept at bay as much as possible so they didn’t count in his mind. “Fine we’ll go look at the dead girl. But if you start smelling any stronger of blood, I’m forcing you to sit your ass down.” He got up not bothering to find a shirt and he made his way downstairs. He flicked on lights as he passed, stopping in the dining room. The girl still laid there eyes wide open, mouth still filled to the brim with mushrooms. He crouched by the body. “Don’t come near her, I have no idea what is making these mushrooms come out of her mouth.”  He pulled on the table cloth using it was buffer between him and the woman’s skin as he tilted her head. “What kind of sick bastard does this to a person.” The smell of rot was seeping out from the side of the girl’s mouth where one of the mushrooms had broken off. 

—

“All I have to do is knock yours off,” Emilio retorted. It was easy enough, falling back into this back and forth with Masami. It was almost enough to let him forget about everything that had happened in the last year. It was enough to distract him from what had happened in the last few weeks, even if the dull sting left by Aesil’s blade was still present on his arms and legs. Unfortunately, the distraction only lasted a heartbeat before Masami was bringing up the shit Emilio wanted to avoid again, eliciting a frustrated groan from the slayer. “You’re not a doctor. You’re a vet. And, last I checked, I have two legs, not four.” It wasn’t really the point of what Masami was saying and he knew it, but it was just about the only real argument he had. “I’m not spooked. I’ve just got better things to do.”

At least Masami seemed to be letting up a little. If he dug his heels in a little further, Emilio was confident he’d be able to convince the kitsune to drop the matter altogether. He’d see the scars eventually, in all likelihood — if he was inviting himself back into Emilio’s life, Emilio figured he might as well make use of the clinic again — but when it was less… fresh, it would be easier. He wouldn’t feel so uneasy about it, and he wouldn’t have to worry about the timeline of the injuries matching up with the physical state of them. 

“I’ll try not to smell like blood, then,” he replied dryly, careful to keep the relief from flooding the words. He was pretty sure he didn’t need to worry about the wounds reopening quite as easily as they had a week ago, so he figured it wouldn’t be hard to keep that particular promise. Trailing behind Masami, he followed the vet down to the dining room, craning his head to get a good look at the body. “Pretty sure mushrooms aren’t going to be the thing to kill me, doc,” he said, though he stayed behind the vet all the same. He leaned forward as far as he could without crossing in front of Masami, though, squinting at the corpse. “Never seen anything like this before. Take it you didn’t know her before she broke in? She got an I.D. on her?”

—

“I don’t think someone breaking into your house to kill you is going to have an I.D. on her.” Masami still dropped the table cloth to check the girl’s pockets, brows furrowing as he tugged a piece of paper out. “The rot god calls… Another cult or just some shitty lyrics?” Wicked’s Rest was crawling with the things. It was one of the town’s constants, cults and bad seafood would be in Wicked’s Rest forever he supposed. He stood back up, bumping into the man behind him. “Go home and rest, I need to find someone to look into this shit.” He shuffled around the taller man, “Don’t touch it! I need it as it is. I’m going to cut her open, see what the fuck is going on.” He pointed at Emilio before heading for the kitchen. He’d have to use the landline downstairs to call some people to move the body to the clinic, it wasn’t his first time doing this and he doubted it’d be the last. The dead seemed to follow him just as much as the living.

Before he disappeared for good though, he peeked around the corner, “Don’t even think about skipping out on a check up now that I know you’re still alive. That goes for Perro as well!” it was his way of inviting Emilio back in if he wanted it. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel natural to just have the younger man by his side, it was a type of friendship Masami hadn’t felt in a long time. Something he thought he ought to cherish a little more, though he had no doubt that if it seemed Emilio was going to get into trouble over it he’d bail just like he did before, but for now he could hope they would stick together. 

—

“People are a lot stupider than you might think,” Emilio pointed out, shrugging a shoulder. It was likely that this woman, whoever she’d been, expected Masami to be dead by the time she left the house; if that was the case, he doubted she would have thought twice about carrying her license with her. In any case, though, what Masami did find in the pocket was… interesting. Emilio blew a frustrated huff of air out his nose, heart jumping into his throat at the mention of cults. It didn’t usually bother him, but… maybe narrowly escaping a human sacrifice gig of his own had changed that. As if he’d needed more fucking problems. “Yeah, well, if you need a PI, I know a guy,” he said flatly, 

shuffling towards the door all the same. The longer he stayed here, the more time Masami had to change his mind and fall back into doctor mode. Emilio would much rather avoid that.

He was almost to the door when Masami’s voice rang out, reminding him to drop by the clinic. Emilio made a note to do so for Perro… and to find an excuse to get out of the one for himself. “Yeah, yeah,” he waved dismissively in Masami’s direction. “Try not to get shot again. Next time, I’ll charge you.” He ducked out the door, sighing to himself. 

All in all… not the worst time he’d dug a bullet out of someone. He headed towards his bike feeling almost pleased.

[daydreamerdrew]

Comics read this past week:

Marvel Comics:

Iron Man (1968) #23-27

In this batch of Iron Man solo comics I went from December 1969 to April 1970. All of these issues were written by Archie Goodwin. Issue #23 was penciled by George Tuska and inked by Joe Gaudioso. Issues #24-25 were penciled by Johnny Criag, the former by inked by George Tuska and the latter by Sam Grainger. And issues #26-27 were penciled by Don Heck and inked by Johnny Craig. Don Heck was the Iron Man artist before Gene Colan and I had really enjoyed his work so I was glad to see him return here and hope he stays on the book for another while.

Tony's on-and-off-again love interest Janice Cord, who he had been attempting to rekindle his relationship with after his experimental heart transplant, died back in issue #22. I've thought about it and I am actually ok with this decision, because I do think what could be done with her character was largely played out unless they were willing to give her more wider range of possible reactions to Tony's behavior, because I think she had experienced with Tony throughout their on-and-off-again relationship the extent to which he was going to be doing. In issue #24 Tony is shown to be gambling (all of the winnings donated to charity, of course) and hanging out with women before dejectedly leaving the casino because he finds that rather than helping him getting over Janice, the playboy shtick is making him feel her loss even more. He even questions whether or not his reason for pushing her away in the first place, that it wasn't fair to her because of his weak heart meaning that he could die at any time, during which time he had been playing up the playboy stuff, was only "a hollow excuse that kept me and Janice from happiness… until it was too late!?" I thought that this was really interesting because Tony enjoying or not enjoying being a playboy and Tony pushing away women he would be interested in a serious relationship with were it not for his weak heart is nothing new, but he's never questioned before whether or not his heart problems are actually just an excuse to avoid a serious relationship. I would really like to see this explored more and see why he would avoiding a relationship.

In issue #23 there's a brief scene before Tony leaves to go on a trip to try to get over Janice where Jasper Sitwell, whose love interest Whitney Frost turned out to be a villain and then left him, tries to commiserate with Tony, not yet knowing that Tony and Whitney actually had a brief romance themselves back in issue #19. Jasper learns about Tony and Whitney's romance in issue #24 and intends to track her down, though it's left clear if this is simply business as part of his duties as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to capture a criminal or if it's because of jealousy. Because of this Tony tries to track down Whitney first to give her a warning. But Jasper ends up finding Whitney just as she was about to be hurt and attempts to rescue her. The issue ends with Whitney going on her way, saying that "Tony Stark gave me confidence… And now Jasper's given me hope! And the only way I'll feel worthy of either… is to prove they weren't given in vain!" Her saying that Tony gave her confidence is referring to him having been attracted to her and so still considering her to still be a woman when she had been doubting that because of her injuries, and her saying that Jasper gave her hope is referring to him trying to save her because he really loved her in despite of her crimes and facial disfigurement. I know that this character says a villain because I'm aware of her being one in modern comics, but I don't know how she goes from here to there, because here I don't really see why she would stay a villain unless her facial disfigurement ends up acting as a barrier to reentering normal life. As her whole story is that she didn't initially want to become a villain but did so when she thought that she didn't have any other choice, and then wanting to stop being a villain but didn't because she didn't think she had any way out of it at that point, and then became disfigured and so really thought that is wasn't possible for her to leave that criminal life.

Also in issue #23, there's a scene where a villain absorbs all of the current from the Iron Man armor, which before Tony's experimental heart transplant would have meant that the chest plate powering Tony's heart would have lost power, causing a heart attack. But here instead it's that the difficulty of moving while in the unpowered armor to try to get to a power source puts strain on Tony's heart which he fears will cause his body to reject the experimental transplant. I haven't yet been completely sold on the storytelling potential of this change to the character in comparison to all the dramatics that the need to keep the chest plate charged to power his heart had, but I do really like that here it was brought up and used to create an issue during a fight.

While the story wasn't particularly interesting to me, I really liked that issue #26 featured Pepper Potts and Happy Hogan as major characters and I am hoping for them to become Tony's employees again and so frequently recurring characters in his comics. Also issue #27 featured the character Eddie March, who was Tony's brief replacement as Iron Man after Tony's heart transplant when he was considering that he could now maybe live a normal life, which was decided against and his commitment to being Iron Man was affirmed when Eddie had his own health issues while wearing using suit. I wasn't sure whether not or not that was going to be the extent of his role in Tony's comics, and even now I'm not sure if this is it or if he'll appear again, but I liked that he was brought back as Tony tries to have him work for him in another way.

The Avengers (1963) #6-13

In this batch of Avengers issues I went from May 1964 to December 1964. Stan Lee wrote all of these issues. Issues #6-8 were penciled by Jack Kirby and of these issues #6-7 were inked by Chic Stone and issue #8 was inked by Dick Ayers. And issues #9-13 were penciled by Don Heck and of these issues #9-10 and #12-13 were inked by Dick Ayers and issue #11 was inked by Chic Stone.

In The Defenders (1972) there were some characters that appeared in both it and in their own solo comics and some characters that were for the most part just appearing in it, and I noticed that even if it didn't effect their panel time, it did effect the stories of the issues. The characters with solos were largely staying the same and then going through personal stuff in their solo comics, whereas the characters who were just appearing in the team book were experiencing both superhero stuff and significant changes in their personal life and so going through development. In The Avengers so far there's been a few references to problems Tony's going through in his solo comics and he's had heart problems on a team mission, but I don't think we've seen Thor, Hank, or Janet experience any personal problems. However, Steve is going through a lot in the Avengers with mourning Bucky and his developing relationship with Rick Jones. I believe that Steve didn't get his own solo stories up until towards the end of this batch, so this largely tracks with what I've noticed about team books so far. I am wondering if from here on the book will be more focused on just superhero stuff or if we're soon to getting a cast change-up with characters with solo stories leaving and new characters without solo stories joining the team.

Beyond the relationship between Rick Jones and Steve Rogers, I did not feel that there was much to the portrayal of the relationships between the other characters in the book, aside from Hank and Janet whose relationship exists beyond the team. I was surprised when it was commented on in issue #10 that the team hardly knew Steve because he apparently keeps to himself and because he's been a part of the team for the shortest amount of time. I don't think that that's reflected in the writing, instead it seems that everyone knows each other about the same amount.

I actually went a little back and forth while reading these issues on whether or not the team is actually friends. It does seem that they're getting better at working as a superhero team as I remember early issues playing up them not coordinating well and getting in each others way, which doesn't happen here, but we're not really seeing much of them outside of the superhero needed to respond to something context to get a better idea of their interpersonal relationships. If anything, what we're seeing of the team outside of missions is them training and having very formal meetings.

In issue #7 the group discusses and decides on the formal punishment of Iron Man not being allowed to participate in the Avengers for a week because he didn't respond to a call. In issue #11 Hank is annoyed to be called for a meeting while he's in a meeting but he has to go because being a part of the Avengers is meant to take precedent over everything with little to no exceptions. This all is coupled with that there's a rule against the teammates prying into each others' lives for the sake of preserving their secret identities, which ends up really limited the kinds of relationships that can form between them; see how Tony has heart problems during a mission in issue #8 but while they can understand that he's having a medical issue none of the others can follow up with him on that after he brushes it off. And all of that goes along with that due to the strict rules about how the teammates are supposed to always be available when called, it seems as though they have to frequently be in contact with one another; for example, in issue #7 Hank and Janet go out of town and they tell Thor that and how to contact them when they're gone.

It seems to me that the strict rules they all established as a group when they first joined may have been too demanding for how their interpersonal relationships ended up forming; but also while the rules demand a high level of commitment to the team, the structure the rules lead to doesn't facilitate the creation of strong relationships between members of the team, and in fact the very formal management of the team creates distance between the members. There's a tension there that I think is very interesting.

The Incredible Hulk (1968) #244 and The Hulk! (1978) #19 and Iron Man (1968) #131-133 and Daredevil (1964) #163

The issue of the main The Incredible Hulk title was from November 1979. It was written by Steven Grant, penciled by Carmine Infantino, and inked by Mike Esposito. It was a mostly forgettable stand-alone story about the Hulk fighting the Living Colossus.

The issue of The Hulk! was published in December 1979. The main part of the issue was a 36-page story written by Doug Moench, as all of the original content in this series has been so far. His writing has had some low points and some high points, and this was the first story by him that I thought was entirely great with no missteps. The penciler for this series is consistently changed for a variety of high-quality artwork and this story was penciled by Gene Colan, who I have read various bits of work by and have found to be consistently excellent, which proved true here. This story was inked by Alfredo Alcala. And this issue like everything in this series so far has been colored by Steve Oliff as part of it’s premier magazine format.

This story had Bruce approach a psychologist that specialized in 'Multiple Personality Syndrome' and, while the story holds back from saying that that's was Bruce has, I believe it is the first comic story to ever bring the condition up by name in relation to Bruce. The framing it takes is that while Bruce's condition was originally a biological problem and not a psychological problem, in manifestation it's similar enough that Dr. Marks' controversial biologial approach, as opposed to the usual psychological approach, to treating the condition just might work for Bruce. Of course, it doesn't, and things all go awry, but it's really interesting to me to see how this story works its way around addressing Bruce's mental issues. 'Multiple Personality Syndrome' is presented as "the subconscious result of repressed needs, literal personifications of deep-seated desires denied by upbringing and conditioning" with the typical treatment being to "isolate and analyze the false personality, discover his or her needs" and then to "satisify these needs normally" and "thereby fulfilling and terminating the necessity for that existence." Everything about how this condition is usually treated is irrelevant because the story is focusing on an experimental approach, and everything about this condition forms is irrelevant because Bruce's condition is biological in nature, not psychological. Except that it was established that the Hulk existed as a distinct part of Bruce's mind before the accident with the gamma bomb in The Incredible Hulk #227, a story that conspicuously never asks the obvious follow-up question of why. Why did Bruce's mind form the Hulk? The incidents that we see of the Hulk's presence in Bruce's early life are incredibly mundane- Bruce accidentally burning his hand on an appliance as a child, Bruce being scolded by a teacher as a teenager. At this point the Hulk's characterization comes across so much as a scared abused child that I don't see that they could reveal anything else, and it feels like the inner workings of the character's origin and the background of the character are being conspicuously danced around to not have to deal with it directly.

The issue of Daredevil was from December 1979. It was written by Roger McKenzie, penciled by Frank Miller, and inked by Klaus Janson and Joe Rubinstein.

In this story Matt Murdock senses that the Hulk is in New York City and tries to get him out of the city because he hurts anyone. The issue uses the concept that the Hulk doesn't understand what exactly his relationship with Bruce is to emphasis the character's plight as self-inflicted. The Hulk asks why Bruce would do this to him, would turn him into a monster, which as he detransforms changes to asking why he would do this to himself. The Hulk rages against Bruce and searches for him, wanting revenge against him, and isn't able to understand why he wouldn't be able to find Bruce. And as the Hulk is unable to understand that Bruce isn't an enemy that he can fight, he's unable to understand how Daredevil is someone trying to help him and so makes his own problems worse by attacking and alienating an ally. I also liked that this story also had a call-back to the time that Matt Murdock defending the Hulk in his trial back in The Incredible Hulk #152-153

The Iron Man issues were published from November 1979 to January 1980. They were all plotted by David Michelinie and Bob Layton, then scripted by David Michelinie, penciled by Jerry Bingham, and inked by Bob Layton.

When I was reading this story, I didn't think that the portrayal of Tony's feelings towards Bruce felt like it was continuous from whatever previous interactions they had. In this story Bruce has a breakdown and begs Tony to kill him because he can't stand his life, always transforming into the Hulk and causing destruction, anymore. Tony refuses and instead takes Bruce to his own home, determined to help him, and reflects that "I've never thought of the Hulk as being a man before- let alone a tortured man." I remembered the the brief period of time in which they were both on the Avengers in 1963-1964, during which time Tony expressed both the typical judgmental and sympathetic attitudes, and later the issue Iron Man #9 from 1968 where Tony fought a Hulk robot and was really sympathetic to it while he still thought it was the actual Hulk. I also remembered what Tony had said in the Hulk's trial in The Incredible Hulk #153 (which was actually directly referenced in this batch because that's when Matt Murdock defended the Hulk) which was that it wasn't right to give the Hulk the death penalty because while the Hulk is a menace, Bruce Banner is "our most brilliant nuclear scientist" and so therefore "his life should be spared."

little break cause of the Tumblr character block limit

I also know that it's been mentioned a few times that weapons being used against the Hulk were designed by Tony Stark. While Tony's attitudes towards the Hulk have been inconsistent, I did think that there was enough there to exhibit that this story here was not the first time he'd ever sympathized with Bruce. But I conceded that it's not necessarily reasonable to hold what Tony said in The Incredible Hulk #153 as important characterization because what Tony said there was not exactly intended to be specific to the character, he was just the mouthpiece in that particular moment for what the intended perspective the Avenger characters were meant to bring to the Hulk's trial. And I didn't think that Tony had meant Bruce before, and so had only really exhibited sympathy directly to the Hulk in a few instances.

However, I realized that this storyline isn't the first time that Tony has met Bruce himself. They interacted previously during a time when Bruce and the Hulk were temporarily split into two in The Incredible Hullk #131. Tony built a device that was intended to fuse the two back together and permanently trap the Hulk inside Bruce (obviously this did not work). And that's the kind of previous interaction that would be relevant to this story, where Tony helped with a device that was intended to keep Bruce's heart rate permanently steady so that he couldn't transform into the Hulk.

I do think that it can be awkward and not completely necessary to reference old history, and I don't think that comics are inherently behold to everything that's been published before, but I also really liked that the Daredevil issue referenced when Matt represented the Hulk, and this Iron Man story doesn't just not reference something relevant but slightly contradicts previous canon with the strong language that Tony has never sympathized with Bruce before. It's not a real big deal, but I am reading all of these comics in order so that I can engage with everything in its publication context and be able to see the changes over time.

Also, story makes revelent that the Hulk was a part of Bruce prior to the gamma bomb accident, as the cure device prevents the physical transformation but still allows for the Hulk's mind to take over Bruce's, which is explained with an explicit callback to The Incredible Hulk #227. And once again, nobody asks why the Hulk would form when that's seems like the logical next step to learning that information. I know that it's addressed eventually because I know that Bruce gets a backstory eventually, but it's driving me a little nuts so I hope it's even just a little bit addressed soon.

The Hulk! #19 had an additional 10-page Hulk story- also penciled by Gene Colan but inked by Bob Wiacek- told from the perspective of an old man sitting on top of a flag pole on an ordinary day in the city, which meant that everything was a bit hectic with traffic and construction and pedestrian. The old man commiserates that “No one seems to have time for a moment of diversion- to pause and ponder the silliness of an old man sitting up in the sky… to pause and smile.” Predictably, this ordinary city day is interrupted by the Hulk going on a rampage. He’s upset that there’s too many cars going too fast, too much smoke hurting his eyes, too much noise hurting his ears, and too many signs trying to tell him things. But the Hulk's trail of destruction caused by all of the overwhelming parts of a modern city is paused when he spots the old man on the flag pole, is charmed, and waves up at him and calls him silly. At the end of the story the part of the city that the Hulk swept through is deserted and calm; and when the Hulk is called a monster, the old man looks down on it all and says, “Not from where I’m sitting.”

And The Hulk! #19 also reprinted the iconic story “Heaven is a Very Small Place”- which was written by Roy Thomas, penciled by Herb Trimpe, and inked by John Severin- from The Incredible Hulk #147.

Also, in The Incredible Hulk #244 Bruce mentions that he’s tired of running and that he would turn himself into Gamma Base, which is actually something that he’s done before, but that whoever is running it since General Ross had his breakdown seems to have a ‘shoot first and ask questions later’ policy. We readers know what Bruce does not yet, which is that Glenn Talbot is now running Gamma Base, and that he blames Bruce for his divorce with Betty and now wants to use his position to try and kill Bruce in revenge. That’s what I’m expecting this upcoming arc to deal with and I’m excited to read it. I believe Betty and Talbot got married back in 1972 and things have been hectic for them ever since. I really want to see them all dealing with each other again instead of all over the place.

DC Comics:

Lazarus Planet: Revenge of the Gods (2023) #1

Billy Batson only appeared in the first story, which was written by G. Willow Wilson and drawn by Cian Tormey, and his role was really minor and just set up that from the gods’ perspective he’s forgotten how to honor them, which seems to involve an element of proper fear, and in later issues of this miniseries he’ll be taught. Also, the Wizard Shazam is by Hera’s side as she’s displaced Zeus as the ruler of the gods, and he’s working with her as they try to ensure that humanity worships them all again, which is necessary for the gods’ continued survival.

Fawcett Comics:

the Captain Marvel stories in Whiz Comics (1940) #53-54 and Captain Marvel Adventures (1941) #34

With this batch of classic Captain Marvel appearances I went from April 1944 to May 1944. There is one Captain Marvel story per issue of Whiz Comics and four per issue of Captain Marvel Adventures for a total of six Captain Marvel stories in this batch. These stories ranged from eight to thirteen pages.

The story “Captain Marvel Falls in Love” (written by Otto Binder; penciled by C.C. Beck; possibly inked by Pete Constanza) in Whiz Comics #53 started out portraying Captain Marvel's usual feelings towards women ("I stear clear of all women!") and then in the course of a page has him fall head over heals for a woman, complete with hearts floating around his head, in a shift that reads like he's been possessed or mind-controlled or otherwise mentally-influenced, but apparently was not given that the story never reveals anything like that. Captain Marvel stays out all night for several nights in a row dreaming about this woman and trying to woo her, much to Billy Batson's frustration as he then has to go to work on no sleep. Billy and Cap have a fight over this ("Listen, Prince Charming, enough is enough!" and "Why, you used to avoid girls like poison before! Now you're making a fool of yourself, and a physical wreck out of me!") which ends with Billy declaring that he's simply not going to transform into Captain Marvel and is going to go right home to bed after work. And the story ends with Captain Marvel discovering that this woman he so admires is actually the same woman that he'd described as a "bossy female" and a "sharp-tongued female" and that she's already engaged to someone else and, to Billy's relief, swears off women forever.

My personal take on Captain Marvel's issues with women (uncomfortable and flees when women flirt with him, avoids angry or 'bossy' women, can't hit female villains) while Billy has no issues at all is that Captain Marvel is more immature in some ways than Billy is because Captain Marvel is an adult with the heart of a child. This version of Captain Marvel was not portrayed as Billy in an adult body, but as a separate adult entity that just didn't exist separately from Billy. He's Billy, but as an adult, but not quite. Because while Captain Marvel is a grown man with the heart of a child, that special heart that made Billy the befitting successor to the Wizard Shazam, Billy as a grown adult himself would not have the heart of a child. This is where Captain Marvel being generally serious but occasionally childish comes from. This fits well into the tone of these comics which were more humorous and tried to take Captain Marvel less seriously than his contemporary Superman comics did their protagonist. And this serves as an inverse to how Billy can often come across like a little adult with his respectable job and perfect morals. Because of this I was charmed by how childish Captain Marvel's attempts at wooing this girl came across- thumping his fists to his chest, showing off how strong he is, and saying, "Don't you l-like me… Not even a teensy-weentsy bit?"

Koyama Press:

Safari Honeymoon by Jesse Jacobs, published in 2014

This graphic novel tells the story of a newly married couple and their guide on a safari honeymoon in a fantastical jungle in which pretty much all of the plants and animals are parasites. The husband is a wealthy businessman who wants his money's worth for the trip but also is unnerved by being vulnerable in this setting, the wife is charmed by their strange surroundings and depending on the moment is either too comfortable with the creatures for safety or just open enough to see if them what others can't, and the guide is his own strange creature as through the many trips he's taken with this setting he's changed and become partially taken over in symbiotic relationships with some parasites. The artwork toed the balance between charming and disturbing. There was a limited color palate of a black and a few shades of green. The backgrounds were kept in monotonous pale green colors to not distract from the intended focus of the panels which were rendered with black outlines, but sometimes I wished that more of the details would be in black and occasionally found the style distracting rather than unobtrusive as I had to go looking for things on the page that seemed important to me but blended in with everything else.

Kitchen Sink Press:

Mondo Snarfo (1978) #1

This anthology one-shot of surrealistic comics was released in September 1978 and featured pieces by creators like Mark Beyer, Art Spiegelman, Denis Kitchen, and Kim Deitch. A few pieces that stood out to me were:

"Situation Comedy" by Bill Griffith, a 3-page story which's speech bubbles tell a scene of a family eating breakfast together the morning after the teenage daughter came home late from a date, but the artwork of every panel each depicts a completely different scene like science fiction astronauts, surgeons performing surgery, a row of performing dancers, and two rocks in an empty desert. The speech bubbles come out of the surgeons, rocks, etc.

"Grim Grids" by Robert Crumb, a difficult-to-follow 3-page story that jumps between different storylines of mannequins discussing surrealistic art ("We used to call this sort of this 'eyeball art'... Heh Heh... It's a crazy shtick alright...") and an eye that has managed to stretch far enough away from a man's body to slip into a woman's dress and then burst out through her mouth, which transforms into a page of mostly abstract expressionistic panels, and then a page depicting a man who allows himself to be consumed by a gigantic woman, only to find that eyeball in her stomach ("There's no hiding place, bub!!").

[kissmeau]

Autumn did not only notice a shadow but felt someone coming behind him. He turned around before being caught by surprise; for some reason, he wasn't feeling entirely safe there. But, opposite to his thoughts and feelings, there was a young man behind him, ready to offer a helping hand.

Autumn observed him speak confidently and felt drawn by it; instead of focusing on the papers, his purple eyes were fixed on detailing the man with blonde hair and golden eyes, noticing his pale skin with a fading stain of red. The man's lips were swollen—did he get into a fight? Autumn wondered and got interrupted by him when the documentation the woman needed was found much faster and more diligent than whoever was sitting at that fancy front desk.

Autumn couldn't help a deadly glare at her, finding his helper equally annoyed with the woman when he returned his eyes to him. But he liked that and the honesty that followed after, revealing the truth behind Janice. Autumn chortled. "It must be nice to get paid for warming a chair with a fat-ass while stealing people's money." Of course, he had to add his 5 cents to the whole thing. Janice had not only given him a hard time but tried to keep his mentor's money for herself? If this person hadn't shown up, and for some reason he had found out later on, then Janice would have made her call for death, and the mystery of why she was still alive would have ended. "Bitch." 2 more cents on top of the 5 in a whisper.

"Yeah, there was a map..." Autumn found it funny that it seemed to be a tendency in this sort of world. He shrugged. "It's fine." It would be the first time he would receive sympathy for Roman's death—at least, a sort of genuine one—and still, he didn't want it; he didn't care for it. Roman was gone, and that was it. Autumn opted to change the topic. "Thank you, uh... What's your name? I'm Autumn. I'm sixteen. How old are you? Also, did you get into a fight? Does it hurt? Did you win? I'm sure you won." After his little bombardment of questions, Autumn offered a toothy grin. The way the blonde had said the last phrase pretty much sounded like he was ready to leave, and Autumn was still too curious about him.

Where did he come from? What is he doing here? How come he knew what to do? Does he work? Does he work here? It was one question after another on Autumn's mind as if each worked like a little excuse to keep him by his side and hold his eyes at his face, clothing, and height. Mnh... He was pretty good-looking—no, handsome; and kind, too.

"Could you help me count the money? I was home-schooled, and I'm not really good with numbers. I'm afraid Janice might play me another trick." A bit of the truth in his pile of lies. He wasn't afraid of Janice playing him another trick now that he knew her nature, and he was outstandingly good with numbers. But the young man didn't know that, which only played in Autumn's favor to achieve a few more minutes next to him. He enclosed one of his fists, wishing fervently that he would fall for the white lies.

To the naked eye, the entire place looked like a simple hotel lobby. People going in and out, chattering away, a small dog comfortably sniffing around while it's owner swayed with laughter; it was all rather unassuming unless you knew who any of these people were. Some yakuza leaders, some hitmen, assassins, spies, a hacker for hire, a gaggle of Cleaners whose habit for cleaning persisted as they picked at the lint on the couch, here in this lobby, they were all equal. Everyone minded their business, they knew the rules, and the punishment for breaking them was... unsettling.

A freshly turned 21 year old Myles sat haphazardly on a couch alone, boredly trying to wipe the blood from his lip after sparring session turned into an all out fight. The front of his pristinely sharp clothes were marred by splatters of red in a cartoonish way, so he did his best to face away from the public. You should see the other guy, he mentally chuffs to himself, but his mentor was taking an ear full over something or other. He did break a rule by fighting on the premises, but the guy had it coming.

Simmering thoughts are interrupted when he hears a new voice behind him, something young and out of place. He's been wandering this hotel halls for decades and rarely did he hear anyone that he couldn't remember. The back and forth was frustrating to even him, eavesdropping until finally he stands and looms near the teen.

"Do you have the papers that show the missions were completed?" Myles interrupts but tries his best to sound helpful. If the papers are in view, he'll flip through the edges, pulling out whichever ones were necessary, then handing them to the woman who pursed her lips just at the sight of him. "There. And with that first document he gave you, it should show that he's next of kin so the payments and any property would go to him." Body leans against the counter, rolling his eyes as he dabs again at his lip to make sure it wasn't still bloody. "You know she does this to people who look new because she thinks if she can convince you to walk away, she'll just pocket the money for herself and honestly I don't know how you're not dead yet JANICE." Head rolls its attention from the boy to the woman behind the counter before she starts to shuffle off to get whatever they needed.

Myles doesn't say much more but eyes the other curiously. "He must have really liked you to do all that, most in his profession just leave some cryptic note and a treasure map and hope their next of kin aren't stupid. Sorry for your loss though. When she comes back, be sure to count the money."

[marias-wonderland]

Spoilers about the “Inside man” on Netflix and its similarities with SoTL (specifically Hannibal’s character and his relationship with Clarice)

TL;DR: I think they drew inspiration by the movie when it comes to grief’s and Beth’s character and while they are completely different media and cases, they were an enjoyable duo I wish we had more time to see together, because it would have been an interesting concept to explore more (especially if they shared some more common elements with Hannibal and Clarice)

Alright so: lemme tell ya I liked the show. Could have been better? yes. Did I still enjoy it and had a blast? absolutely! That being said: I couldn't help but notice a familiar pattern with Grieff’s Character/Beth and Hannibal/Clarice

Everyone’s keep talking about how Tucci’s Character was Sherlock-ish (well thats what happens when the writer of Sherlock writes more shows ig) but in my eyes he mostly was Hannibal-ish. 

Grieff wasn't all that ironic as Sherlock was throughout the show (kinda), and he wasn't trying to ‘show off’ either as Sherlock did. He also didn't solve the cases with the help of some rather deux ex machina clues (like Sherlock did sometimes) He was mostly reversed, stoic, calm, ready to point out the hypocrisies in one’s morals and enjoyed helping Beth discover the clues for her case (don't these things remind you of Hannibal?). Beth is also an ambitious young woman, a journalist who writes about crimes in general, who is dedicated to what she does.

episode 1:

Her first meeting with Grieff had SoTL vibes. His indifference at first, then starting to take a like on her. Her trying to figure out how to ask the right kind of questions but also making sure she's respected and calling him out whenever she feels she should. And when he revealed that he chooses his cases based on ‘moral worth’ feels like he shares a piece of himself (perhaps a more vulnerable one?), smth he wouldn't do unless he knew she was a ‘decent’ human. And as dilon said “you liked it, you talked a lot”, smth that neither of them would do unless they found an interest in the other person

Episode 2:

Episode’s 2 little game of ‘would you rather help your friend or get more material for your job?’ felt smth like Lecter would do too. I didn't expect her to choose the latest but then again, it’s not like they were bffs.

Also her going all around searching for clues with him on the phone, directing her and being pleased when she finds the solution? definitely smth Lecter would do to, had he being in prison in 2022 and not in the 80′s. And again, I enjoyed their banter. And their little talk at the end, him making fun of her moral codes while she just saw the woman who was the murderer running away?? I found it funny tbh

Episode 3:

Morag’s speech during ep 3 was also a nice touch. Making sure Beth never forgets that after all these, Grieff is a monster (Just like what everyone kept telling to Clarice, both the media and her closer environment). Her determination to continue her job/finding Janice im sure pleased Grieff (as for why he wanted to listen to her reaction on the phone: the man loves playing games)

Episode 4:

Episode’s 4 opening scene has similar vibes, explaining hard to grasp concepts in a simpler way. And him sending the men of his ex father-in-law to the vicar’s house, in a pretence he had confessed where he had hidden his wife’s head, so he could help Beth? ingenious and Lecter should take some notes tbh

On the whole:

While I recognise this was not 100% intended by Moffat, I would like to believe he drew some inspo by SoTL and Hannibal’s relationship with Clarice.

It was obvious they were never meant to be like them (let alone how their relationship developed in the Hannibal book) but, for sure it felt refreshing to watch something that shared some common clues with one of my favourite couples in media. Especially with a couple we are not going to watch together in the big screen because of copyright issues...

[zafirosreverie]

if you’re still taking requests could i request #8 or #9 with carla? 🥰

#9 is here ^ - ^ so i did #8 for you! I also combined it with this:

Hope you like it!

Grumpy prompt (closed)

Drinking night, crazy night (Carla x Fem!Reader)

a/n: this is looooooong. Sorry for that 😅

Warnings: Smut, alcohol mentions, Carla's dirty mouth. Dom!Carla...i think.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

You sighed and settled back in your seat, trying to be subtle enough not to attract Gwendolyn's attention and avoid her scolding. God, you hated these things, you hated being here. But what else could you do? You knew that if you had gone to Amy Mitchell's house, Gwendolyn would find out and she could do something terrible to your daughter. You would not allow the witch to get near your precious girl.

So here you were, in the middle of a huge house, surrounded by other moms who definitely didn't want to be here either, praying that the blonde woman in front of you would shut up soon.

"Y/N, Look at this" Cassandra, a mother whose son was in the same group as your daughter, whispered next to you.

You glanced at Gwendolyn quickly before looking at Cassandra's cell phone screen. It was a message from Janice.

Come to Amy's. We have shitty wine.

Followed by a selfie where the woman appeared, surrounded by other 3. They seemed happy and drunk. Lucky them.

"Let’s go" Cassandra whispered to you

"Are you crazy? If Gwendolyn finds out-"

"She won't" she interrupted you "besides, she can't do anything against everyone"

You frowned in confusion and looked around you. You noticed several moms silently slipping away. You smiled to yourself and turned back to Cassandra.

"We better go now that we can" she winked at you

There was no way you would directly face the blonde. Not if you could help it. You took your bag and smiled.

"Right behind you" you said.

You two held back your laughter as you sneaked out of the place. Whatever was going on at Amy Mitchell's house, it had to be so much better than this.

__________________

You were surprised when you arrived at the place. There were too many people here!! How many moms had sneaked out of Gwendolyn's house before you?! Too many in your opinion. How the hell had the blonde not noticed? You didn’t know or care.

Anyway, you were too busy dancing and screaming with the rest of the moms to care about those things. Tomorrow maybe you would, but right now, to hell with everything.

You heard someone yell loudly behind you and saw a row of moms taking a shot as a wild-haired woman yelled at them one by one.

"Drink!"

It looked fun.

___________________

Your head was starting to spin, but you were still sane enough to know what was going on around you. You watched from a few meters as the wild-haired woman laughed with two other women, kissing one of them and then making them kiss each other.

Pretty wild in your opinion. You liked it.

The more you looked at the woman, the more you tried to remember her. You were sure you ran into her a couple of times in the school parking lot, but her name escaped you.

Carolina? Carmen? Carola?

Something like that.

You turned around when you felt a hand on your forearm and Cassandra dragged you into the living room to dance. You missed the amused look that the blue-eyed woman gave you.

_____________________

You grunted when an elbow hit your rib. This is why you didn't go out to parties!...And because you had a daughter to take care of, but that wasn't the point.

You worked your way through the other moms and sighed when you walked back into the hall. You couldn't tell it was fresh air, but at least there weren't that many people here.

You leaned against the wall and closed your eyes for a moment, until you felt someone looking at you. You straightened up and looked next to you to find a pair of incredibly blue eyes looking at you.

The woman looked you up and down without shame, running her eyes all over your body. She took her time on your legs and you mentally thanked whatever god was listening for enlightening you and making you wear that dress.

She didn't say anything to you, but she had a funny smile on her lips. Shit, she was beautiful, you weren't going to deny it. And the image of her kissing that other mom hadn't left your head in the last hour.

"You like what you see?" you asked with a raised eyebrow.

Normally you would have blushed, but you blamed alcohol for your actions. Also, you weren't really expecting an answer.

Oh, but you got one.

The woman smiled at you and approached you with a confident stride, trapping you between her and the wall. You swallowed audibly. She smelled like she had a few too many drinks, but you guessed you weren't exactly better.

"That was my question" she told you "You haven't stopped looking at me since you arrived"

You frowned in confusion. What was she talking about? You didn't even know her name or who she was? Why would you -...but you did...

You looked at her when you walked into the house, when she had made all those moms drink a shot, when she had danced in the living room, when she had laughed with those women and kissed them. You had been looking at her all night. Shit.

"I'm sorry" you mumbled, smiling at yourself. Your confidence disappeared little by little "I didn't mean to be rude"

"You weren't" she told you. Her face was too close to yours and there was no indication that she planned to walk away "But I'm going to ask you for a favor."

"Of course" you nodded and smiled.

"That!" she growled she, making you jump a little "Please, stop smiling at me like that. I'm not sure what will happen if you keep doing that."

You blinked in surprise. Have you been smiling at her too? Hell, you really had to stop drinking. And yet you found her frown too cute.

"Why?" you said, smirking at her "does it make you nervous?"

You teased a bit and ran your tongue across your lower lip to moisten it. The woman in front of you grunted again and suddenly your back hit the wall hard. You didn't have time to react by the time her lips were pressed against yours. It was a hot, demanding and desperate kiss. You loved it.

You wrapped your arms around her neck and pulled her closer to you, returning the affection and pushing your tongue into her mouth. You could taste the alcohol in her tongue and something that was purely her.

You moaned against her mouth when you felt her hand climb up your thigh, lifting your dress little by little. Unfortunately, you weren't drunk enough to do it...not here.

"Wait" you said with a broken voice "we can't do this here"

"Come with me" she ordered, taking your hand and pulling you.

She led you upstairs, saying nothing. You were sure this wasn't her house, but that didn't seem to matter to her.

____________________

Well, at least she had the decency not to take you to her friend's bed.

You grunted when your back hit something. Maybe the wall, maybe a shelf, you weren't sure. It was hard to tell when everything in this damn closet was so dark.

"Are you sure your friend won't mind?" you asked, suddenly feeling nervous

"She won't find out" she assured you "Now strip" she said harshly.

"I don't even know your name" you said, trying to sound more confident than you were, but god, that tone had made your legs shake.

"Carla" she said simply "Now strip, I'm not going to repeat it again, Y/N"

Carla! That was the name that had escaped you all night. You were going to ask how she knew your name, but then you remembered that your kids went to the same school, damn it.

So you did what she told you and took your dress off quickly. Carla made a noise of satisfaction and you felt a hand caress your leg. The woman suddenly dug her nails into your inner thigh, making you gasp.

"Shut up" she growled "I haven't even started on you, save it for later"

You swallowed when you felt her press against you and one of her hands went down to holy ground. You bit your lip hard when one of her fingers caressed your already wet slit.

"My, my...You're so ready for me" she teased "No wonder you looked at me all night...you should have come to me earlier, honey, instead of showing your legs all over the house. trying to tempt me "

"I wasn't-" you tried to say, but she slammed her finger into you, making you scream.

"You were" she told you, nibbling on your lobe "but don't worry, you'll have what you want...you won't be able to walk after I'm done with you"

You had no doubt about that.

_______________

Your head hit the wall behind you, but you didn't care. You were too busy chasing the orgasm that she had been denied you times already.

"Please" you moaned "Please, please, please"

Carla smiled against your neck and moved her hand so that the three fingers that were inside you dug deeper. But the pleasure only lasted a few seconds because she yanked them out, just when you were almost there.

You grunted in pain and frustration. Your eyes stung with unshed tears. The older woman just laughed.

"Please" you sobbed "let me come, I need to come"

"Then you will have to work for it" she told you "On your knees, now"

You opened your eyes, but you could barely see her figure in front of you. Your legs were shaking, but you did as she commanded and knelt in front of her, groaning a little when your heel brushed against your center.

Carla quickly took off her pants and underwear, separating her legs right in front of you. She didn't have to tell you what to do, because the mere scent from her center drew you like a moth to the light.

The woman gasped a little as your hot tongue tentatively licked her slit and her fingers tangled in your hair to keep you in place. For a moment you were tempted to return her favor and play with her a bit, but she must have read your thoughts because she immediately reprimanded you.

"Don't even think about it princess" she growled "If you want to cum tonight you better start working"

She tugged on your hair tightly and that was enough to send an electric current to your already sore, wet core. So you got to work quickly.

Carla moaned as your tongue slipped in and out of her. Sometimes, you would suck hard on her tangle of nerves, making her jump a little. Little by little, you got braver and then your fingers entered the game.

You smiled against her when she moaned loudly as you shoved two fingers into her.

"Fuck" she growled "Don't you dare stop" she threatened

And you didn't. You continued your rhythm for a few more minutes, until you felt her tighten around your fingers and you knew she was close. You sucked hard on her center while twisting your fingers inside her and that was it.

Carla screamed loudly as waves of pleasure washed over her. Happily you helped her work it out. Her hand never left your head, though, and you found yourself cleaning up the mess that was coming out of her pussy.

"Good girl" she gasped when she calmed down a bit.

"Can I come now?" you asked.

"Stand up" she ordered and you happily obeyed

Carla pushed you against the wall again and kissed you fiercely, tasting herself in your mouth. Her fingers quickly found their way to your center again.

"I think you deserve a reward for being so good" she said and you trembled with excitement when she started pumping her fingers inside you.

You begged that this time she would let you finish.

_________________

You hurried out of the house, grateful to the one upstairs for the fact that most of the women were drunk and no one would see what a reeling mess you were.

You sighed when you got into your car and took a moment to recover. Your legs were weak and it hurt to sit. But you didn't regret it in the least. The best sex you've had in years since your divorce and it had been with a half-drunk mother from your daughter's school.

You laughed at it. That night, you couldn't help but dream with a pair of blue eyes.

__________________

"I made-out with so many women tonight" Carla said.

"I know" Amy laughed

Except no. The woman didn’t know what her friend had done in one of her closets and Carla intended to keep it that way. She couldn't help but think about the way you were walking when you left the house, anyone could see that you were in pain and that made her feel incredibly proud.

_________________

"Good morning" you greeted the woman after your daughter said goodbye and ran to school.

"Hey! What's up, pretty lady?" Carla smiled and walked towards you.

You blushed a little. You didn't expect her to get close to you, you just wanted to be nice. The truth is that you hadn’t been able to get her out of your mind all week, neither her nor her evil fingers.

"What are you going to do today?" she asked

"Oh...well...I don't have work today, so cleaning the house I guess" you said nervously.

"Do you mind if I go with you?" she said "Those two idiots over there plan to go to a sewing class and there is no way in the universe that you will see me there alive"

She pointed to Amy and Kiki talking a few meters behind. You laughed a bit and felt as if the air around you was no longer so thick.

"You can come" you said "But I don't know if you want to help me clean up"

"Oh no" she smiled at you "I was actually thinking of making more mess. I think we both deserve a second round, no alcohol and in bed" she winked at you.

You have never dragged someone into your car so quickly in your life.

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

KH’s tags: @midnight-lestrange @emilyprentissslut @mochiadria

[mehphoobia]

HERE

Pairing- Tom Hiddleston x Reader (news channel anchor)

Summary- People say falling in love can be a scary experience. Well, that scary experience for you had a different meaning for you.

Warnings- blood, horror, mystery, thriller, suspense (I suggest get a water bottle for yourself)

REQUESTS OPEN | MASTERLIST

_____________________________🤍____________________________

"Susan Hive, another 25 y/o was found dead in her apartment approximately at 10:00 am today. Who is the mastermind behind these brutal murders? the mystery is still with the police to crack. The only witness in the case are the walls of the apartment which are covered in parts of human anatomy never seen before just like the other five murders. This is Y/N of NewsToday with cameraperson David on scene." You sighed after finishing your report and looked at the crime scene. The camera person packed his camera and headed towards the van as he couldn't handle the stench. With ripples on your forehead you contemplated your decision. Should you or should you not tell the officers.

But soon you let aside your dilemma. These were brutal murder cases that had everyone shook.

And you had a lead to follow.

"Who are you?" you whispered as you sat in your chair staring at the photo of the deceased Susan Hive with a man. The face was not visible as he wore a black hat and a black overcoat. "Typical" you said gesturing his attire, which was straight out of a murder mystery. Unfortunately, the officers couldn't find him. But the lead you had could directly deliver this man to you.

"North House please" explaining the address to the taxi driver, you couldn't miss his expressions. "You want to go to the North House?" he asked you with genuine concern. "If you are not comfortable, you can just drop me near the curb" you suggested understanding his hesitation. Reluctantly he drove the taxi and there you were. Standing outside the hospital for mental patients. "How much will it be?" asking the driver for the fare you rummaged through your purse.

"I will wait here miss. You can pay me later" he said. Of course, the deaths in this hospital would scare anyone. But you weren't here for the suicides, you were here for the murders.

"I am here to see someone. A Mrs. Hill." you spoke confidentially to the receptionist. "For an investigation, are we?" the receptionist questioned. "It's confidential" you replied with knitted eyebrows. "oh! of course it is." she chuckled.

The receptionist accompanied you to Mrs. Hill's room. She was the oldest patient, who had been in the hospital for for around thirty years. Every patient, every staff member; she had seen for herself. "Are you here for the investigation for Susan Hive?" the receptionist questioned. Your head whipped faster than the wings of a bee. "You knew her?" you enquired. "Yes, I knew all five of them. They were interning under me." she answered.

"Janice Dean" her ID card read. "Of course" you murmured. Ten days back you had found one of the victim's case file from the officers which had something in common. North House, all three of them worked here and now so did Susan Hive.

"Don't worry I won't bug her too much" putting a and on Ms. Dean's shoulder you reassured her. She offered you a tired smile. With that she unlocked the door and you saw Mrs. Hill sitting on her chair.

"He killed another one didn't he?" she enquired in her shaky voice as if she knew it was going to happen. "Yeah. Do you know you he is?" trying to keep your posture, you asked. "No, but I have seen him." she replied. "Black eyes which weren't even his. Long hair which covered his face and the cuts." "Everyone thought, something was wrong in his head. They tried all kinds of medicines but none of them worked. He kept screaming and yelling every day. It would echo you know. The screams. Other patients could feel it too. But the doctors didn't know something." she explained but suddenly trailed off.

"He was possessed" she declared.

"How did he get out. I mean the patient like--" "Demon" she corrected. "We saw a body lying in his room. We thought its him. He had cuts all over his face so it was recognizable. The post mortem reports found out it was one of our doctors. He escaped as his disguise." explained Ms. Dean.

You couldn't get the fact out of your head as you stepped outside the hospital. With quivering hands, you opened the taxi's door. Looking at your condition, the driver ran to the opposite side of the street and bought you a water bottle. "You should go home miss." the driver suggested. "Beverly Hills Apartments please". The driver nodded and drove you home.

Maybe you should tell the police. It was not your job to go after the killer. Of course it would be one of the biggest news article for your company but this, its not worth it. Just then your phone rang. All of that tension and weird feeling in your chest was replaced by a sense of comfort. It was Tom.

"Hey babe! dinner's ready, when are you coming home?" he asked in his cheerful voice. You chuckled and said, "I started right now. Is my kitchen all right?" you mocked. "Uh..sort of. I'll help you clean though" he replied like a child caught doing something wrong. It was comforting to have him in your life. Amidst all of this, he was the exact person you needed. "Love you honey" you said unexpectedly. He could sense your uneasiness and knew your line of work. It can be terrifying sometimes. "Love you too..Hey, I am right here." he said immediately putting a smile on your face.

You met him three years ago. How boring can news conferences be? it was something you knew very well. But it was a little bit tolerable when a hot shot investigating officer suddenly made his way to you. Tom and you immediately clicked. As if you were meant to be. One date led to another and suddenly he started picking you up from your work almost every single day. You remembered he had proposed on your cruise date which had you in complete awe. How could you say no to such a perfect man. His beautiful eyes which were a perfect peek to your universe, his warm embrace and how he fit in your life perfectly made it so much easier. He made it easier.

The sudden nostalgia calmed your nerves and you took a deep breath in. Within no time you were home. You leaped out of the taxi, paid the man and ran to your apartment. As you were going to ring the bell, Tom opened the door and picked you up in his arms. Both of you giggled as he kissed you passionately. With your fingers curling in his long wet hair and his arms coiling your waist, you could melt under his effect and you did.

"Tada!! Fish N chips" Tom declared in his voice that he called his disney voice. You chuckled at his endearing self. Both of you couldn't spend enough time with each other with all these murders. He too was tensed but never showed it in front of you. The least you could do was to help him out. You watched your favorite drama as the both of you ate your dinner.

After the chocolate ice-cream, he got up to get the wet wipe to wipe your face which was covered in chocolate. You were gone out cold because of the tiring day. He picked up the plates and noticed you had run out of kitchen soap. "Back in a few" he wrote on a post it and pasted it on the fridge. He wore his black overcoat and decided to forego his phone and left.

"Tom? babe?" you woke up around five minutes and searched the house. Suddenly the post it note grabbed your attention. You chuckled when you saw it and you knew a lot of unwanted things were gonna be purchased. Who could help it, its Walmart after all.

You saw his phone and found his headphones on the table. He would sit on his chair for hours and listen to his music but he never shared them with you. So you grabbed the opportunity and plugged in his headphones.

"19-21-19-1-14 8-9-12-12" the first song read. Then you realized it was a recording. "Mr Hiddleston sings?" you scoffed as you pressed the play button.

"Ahhh" a woman screamed and with that you immediately grabbed the headphones and threw them. "Oh God" you whined as you rubbed your ears. You played all the five recordings and all of them were similar. Screams. Then it hit you. The numbers were different and were too wrong to be dates. WHAT IF?

"19,S,21,U,19,S,1,A,14,N 8,H,9,I,12,L,12,L" you wrote on a piece of paper. "Susan hill?" you gasped. All the other four recordings added up to the all the other four victims. You sat there staring at the paper.

"It took you long enough" Tom spoke from behind you. You flinched as walked away from him. "Did you?" you asked. "The screams, oh my soul was cleansed" he said as he put his hand on his chest. Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you looked at his face. He was in content, in peace. "Why did you kill them? What had they done to you?" you enquired.

"THEY LAUGHED!!" he yelled. Your eyes widened as you looked at him. It wasn't your Tom, it was someone else.

He was possessed.

"They fucking laughed when I was being experimented on. I cried for help but they were too busy laughing. Fucking bitches" he scoffed. "You know when I made cuts on their skin how peaceful it felt. Slowly, deeply I dragged my knives on their skins and watching them slowly dying because of the pain. So good. They were the ones who cried and screamed and I was the one who laughed." He was a maniac explaining his masterplan. Little did he know everything he said, you were recording it all.

"You think you can run away with it?" you mocked trying to make him spill out. "How will they know Y/N? I am the chief investigating officer." he ran the tip of his fingers on your cheeks. But you didn't waver, he was a demon. "All this time I have been trying to erase all the evidence" he spoke as he turned his back on you.

"But you?" he turned and walked towards you. He bought his face closer to your neck and kissed your neck. If it were any other day, your eyes would slowly close themselves as he would press you against the surface. But today there was nothing but tears. "You are my favorite. I can't leave any witnesses. But don't worry, your screams will live in my recordings. You know how much I love making you scream now don't you my love?" He laughed sheepishly.

THUD THUD. The bang on the door grabbed his attention. He looked at you made a sign with a finger in his lips. Was this the man you loved? Who was he? You thought as you looked at him slowly unlocking the door.

"Ahh LEAVE ME GET OFF" he yelled in surprised as the police officers pinned him on the floor. Slowly you got your phone in front of him which you were hiding behind you and showed him the 911 number. The officers dragged him away but his hooded eyes would not leave your soul.

Two days later, while clearing his room. You found a notebook with all the five victim's name on it which was struck of with a red marker and also five knives covered in dried blood. "Why?" you whimpered as tears made their way down your cheeks. Your company had printed one of the biggest hit ever and were at the top. You were promoted and were appreciated by everyone but at what cost? You were scarred for life.

Back in the North House, Mrs Hill was sitting on her chair as the receptionist were cleaning her room. "Oh no" Mrs Hill exclaimed. "What is it Nana?" enquired Ms. Dean. "Y/N call her!! NOW"

Something was going to happen.

At the prison cell, all the officers were in havoc as one of the security guard was found dead in Tom's prison cell. Hysterical laughs and water droplets echoed through the hallway as Y/N was written on the wall and was struck of by the dead security guards' blood.

You were sleeping when Ms. Dean called you. "Hello" you spoke in your grumpy voice, the sleeping pills were slowly kicking in. "T-TOM!" her line was cut because of the heavy rain. Just then you got a message that Tom had escaped.

"What? where did he go?" you murmured to yourself and then you heard it. The hysterical laughter and the sound of the recording button being pushed.

"I am right here my love" he said.

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A/N: Hey guys, here is my first Tom Hiddleston fic. For the those of you who don't know me personally I am a contemporary dancer and this fiction I had seen being performed on the stage. I loved the suspense and I loved writing it even more. Writing this was a challenge and it was a wonderful experience and I hope you all like this as well.😘

Tom Hiddleston is such a versatile actor and just fits in any character which is the main reason why I love him so much. It was very easy for me to visualize his demeanor in this character and I tried my level best converting it into words. Let me know what you think about this fic.😃

REQUESTS OPEN | MASTERLIST

My requests are open. So ahead and check my masterlist and send me your plots.

Love yourself...you are worth it❣❣

[artificialqueens]

Girl I Met On The Internet, 2/? (Crystal x Gigi) - Strawberry

a/n: aaaa i’m so glad everyone liked the first chapter! i think this story will end up staying focused on gigi and crystal for the most part, but there is some (one sided) jankie in this chapter if you’re into that! also: just in case no one got the reference, the nickname crystal gives gigi, ‘georgia rose’,comes from the 1d lyrics “Said her name was georgia rose, and her daddy was a dentist” from their song ‘best song ever’!

gigi: are u okay :( ily crystal

crystal: yeah i just got picked on by this cheerleader that doesnt like me

Technically, she wasn’t lying. Crystal didn’t think it was too bad, considering she really only ever saw Dahlia in history class, but she still made it her mission to make that 45 minutes rough for Crystal whenever possible. This time it was pushing all of Crystal’s belongings off of her desk while she was leaving.

gigi: fuck. im sorry. 

crystal: it’s fine dskjdshjgkjf i wish all cheerleaders could take notes from you and jan

gigi: yaaas me and jan invented being nice

gigi: but i was wondering if maybe you could teach me about one direction later tonight?

Crystal had tried to convince the group earlier in the week that One Direction was the best boy band ever, and had only managed to get Jan to agree. She was glad that Gigi had finally come to her senses.

crystal: finally changing your mind? amazayn!

gigi: i regret asking now. take that pun back to 2011!!!!

The rest of the day went as normal. The chat was pretty active, but eventually died down at the end of the school day. Everyone seemed to have plans; Jan was studying, Jaida was going out to hang with friends, Nicky was sleeping, and Heidi was starting a new challenge on the Sims. It appeared to be just her and Gigi, alone in the group chat. 

Crystal decided to message Gigi privately, not wanting the rest of the girls to see her go into full stan mode. If someone asked Crystal about her interests, she could go hours before thinking of stopping herself.

crystal: ok miss gigi are you ready for your 1d crash course?

Crystal told Gigi everything she wanted to know and even more. A history of how they got together, way too much information on each of the five boys, telling her the best songs on each album, and making sure that Gigi knew ‘Midnight Memories’ was their best album. 

gigi: but ur @ is dedicated to made in the am?? fraud!

crystal: HELPFDFHBJ

crystal: mmcrystal sounds weird… like no thanks 

gigi: that was very interesting.. i’ll def listen to midnight memories in the morning <3

crystal: YAY! gigi 1d stan finally

gigi: no promises! :)

Crystal didn’t respond to that, not really knowing what to talk about now. Having a group of friends helped her be less awkward, but it definitely didn’t fix that problem completely. 

gigi: do u wanna play 21 questions or something?? to get to know eachother better???

Of course, Crystal jumped at the chance to get to know the other girl better. It started very innocently, asking about favorite colors and foods. Gigi quickly changed that.

gigi: uhh… have u ever kissed a girl?

crystal: sadly no.. my state is full of straight people

gigi: same.. ur turn

crystal: this feels awkward to ask but uhhh….

As soon as she hits send, she instantly regrets it. She backtracks what she had originally typed, desperately trying to come up with another question. Crystal was not able to think of anything else.

gigi: ????

“I guess I’ll have to do it,” Crystal says, talking to absolutely no one. She types it out again, looking away from her phone as she blindly tried to hit the send button, like it would help her situation be any less flustering for her.

crystal: how long have you and nicky been dating?

Would Gigi find it weird that she asked? Gigi was the one who brought up kissing girls, not Crystal, so it would be fine. Right?

gigi: CRYSTAL WHATBDGNHSDMFD

gigi: nicky and i are not dating omg im single

gigi: she’s like my sister. plus i would never do long distance

Crystal was so embarrassed. She was relieved this conversation was taking place through a screen, so Gigi wouldn’t see her blushing face. 

She was pleased that she was wrong about the two girls, but Gigi’s answer was upsetting to her.

They asked a few more personal questions before Gigi started asking Crystal would you rather questions instead. Crystal’s favorite out of them was if she would rather get a mullet or dress like a clown every day for the rest of her high school career. The answer was both, obviously. 

They spent the rest of the night sending each other stupid questions, giggling to themselves. The later it got, the more Gigi would flirt with her. At least Crystal thought it was flirting.

gigi: it’s really late and i have a test tomorrow so im gonna go to sleep. goodnight, babe

Gigi always would say ‘goodnight, bitch’, and this made Crystal even more confused. The ongoing joke that lesbians had the hardest time telling if a girl is into them or not was one of Crystal’s favorites, but now she couldn’t help but wonder if that was exactly what was happening to her. There was obviously a connection between them, but it was unclear to Crystal if it was just platonic. 

It didn’t hit her until later that night, while she was trying to fall asleep, but Crystal wasn’t entirely sure where Gigi lived. She knew they were in the same time zone, but wasn’t sure what state she was in. It was totally possible that Gigi lived in Missouri, but Crystal highly doubted it. Though Gigi obviously trusted Crystal enough to want to play 21 questions with her, she was still very private, and Crystal wasn’t too sure if Gigi would tell her what state she was in. 

Crystal fell asleep thinking about her highly unrealistic perfect world, where Gigi lived in Missouri and where Crystal wasn’t just another Nicky. 

-

Crystal got onto Twitter right after waking up the next morning, ready to ask Gigi if she happened to live in Missouri, but quickly got distracted with a very interesting conversation going on in the group chat.

jan!: now i may not be gay but i’m in love with a woman… 2 words jackie

jaida: i- that’s only one word

jan!: fuck

heidi: the way i can’t tell if you’re joking or not

jan!: the way i don’t think i am joking

gigi: YAAS about time u admitted that u like her

crystal: hold on i thought jan was straight?? who’s jackie???

nicky: do you really think a straight person would hang out with us?

crystal: good point 

jan!: I AM STRAIGHT! i think? i don’t know i’m so confused. 

heidi: jackie is jan’s local @ crystal

gigi: jan be like: im straight.

gigi: but also jan is like: wow jackie is so pretty and she’s so funny and smart i’m going to fail geometry so she can tutor me but no homo!

heidi: the delusion janice has…

jaida: not to be serious but if you think you like jackie, you probably aren’t straight baby. everyone else hush and let her talk

nicky: ^^ yeah jan what happened

jan!: first of all i did not fail geometry i just said we should study together so we did!!! and have been for months! but last night i couldn’t focus at all bc she’s so pretty all i wanted to do was k*ss her out of nowhere

In a way, Crystal could definitely relate. Gigi wasn’t her local, she still didn’t know what the girl looked like, but she still kind of wanted to kiss her. She couldn’t focus on anything besides Gigi sometimes, not like she would ever admit it. 

All of the girls had sent many comforting messages addressed to Jan, saying that it was okay, and she has all the time she needs to figure out her feelings. Afterwards, everyone had gone back to being playful. Gigi also tried to convince her to make a move on Jackie, which Jan refused.

gigi: if u talk to her u guys can get married <3

crystal: gigi you’re so stupid i love it

jan!: omg did someone say stupid love??? stream! 

gigi: crystal back me up :(

crystal: i might’ve found out who jackie is only 10 minutes ago but i will cry if jan doesn’t talk to her right now

jan!: better start crying bc i dont think i can even look at her now

jaida: that’s not saying much at all. you cried the other day bc gigi sent a pic of her dog

crystal: I AM A NANCY STAN FIRST AND A HUMAN SECOND!!

Crystal knew she looked like an idiot, walking to her locker with her eyes glued to her phone and a dopey smile on her face but she couldn’t care less.

-

The day actually went well for Crystal. The highlight of her day was finding out that the story she wrote for her creative writing class had gotten the highest grade out of everyone in the class, earning her a piece of candy. 

crystal: just got candy and a 99% on my story for class… i truly have the mind of a mastermind

jaida: beauty and intelligence in one combined!

Navigating through the halls was much more difficult when your eyes are glued to your phone, but replying to a meme Jaida sent seemed much more appealing to Crystal than getting to her seventh period without worrying about bumping into someone.  And bumping into someone, she did.

“What the actual fuck, weirdo?” Dahlia yelped, looking extremely offended, “Get off of your sad, cracked phone and watch where your dumb ass is going.”

Crystal just stared at her, frozen in fear. Dahlia taunted her daily, but this was very different from how she usually acts towards her. It was quite terrifying. 

“I swear to God, if you ever look at me, let alone fucking touch me again-” She continued, but before she could finish her statement, she was interrupted by her friend, Georgina running over and pulling her away. 

Crystal didn’t think Georgina shared Dahlia's hatred for her, and Crystal didn’t hate Georgina either. Georgina actually seemed very sweet besides the fact that she had never bothered to step in on the rare occasion Dahlia happened to target Crystal outside of class.

“Can you please leave her alone? We don’t have time for this.” Georgina groaned, looking back at Crystal, flashing her a quick smile, before turning around to escort Dahlia to what Crystal assumed was cheerleading practice.

“But she bumped into me!” Dahlia whined, not used to being interrupted like this.

“Really? Wow, funny. I don’t care.”

Once they were out of sight, Crystal was alone again. She pulled out her phone and went to check if anyone had said anything else in the chat; just Jan freaking out, because Jackie had smiled at her in the hallway.

heidi: everyone say i if you think jan should stop being a baby and ask jackie out

jaida: i

crystal: i

jan!: WTF

jan!: friendship ended with heidi, jaida and crystal. now nicky and gigi are my best friends

jaida: they would say i too if they were online and you know that

jan!: i don’t need friends! they disappoint me!

Crystal decided to not use her phone while she was walking home, not wanting to have a repeat of the Dahlia situation. Her after school routine changed a lot in the past week, making a rule to not check Twitter before completing her homework. Her Twitter addiction was getting worse, but since it was also causing her to be more productive with doing her homework, she saw no issues with it. Once she had finished, she picked up her phone to see that Gigi had messaged her less than a minute ago.

gigi: hey clown :) im done w practice

crystal: WHY AM I A CLOWNDFSHDM

gigi: u just have clown energy. i cant and wont explain 

crystal: honestly yeah i see it but can i at least be your clown wife or something

gigi: yeah <3 hey clown wife! i listened to most of midnight memories and it was really good! my fave song is u and i

If that’s not love, then what is? If that’s not friendship, then what is? Crystal had never been able to get anyone to listen to anything she recommended, ever. She was filled with glee, double tapping the message to heart it. It meant a lot to her.

crystal: YAYAYAYAYA im so glad but it looks so ugly when you spell it like that 

gigi: my fave song you and i* >:(

crystal: better 

gigi: if i have to stop spelling it as u to make you not divorce me i will

Crystal knew deep down it was just a joke, but it made her heart race. The feeling she got every time Gigi would flirt with her was very unfamiliar, but very nice. It didn’t help that Crystal thought ‘You and I’ was one of the most romantic songs One Direction had, she couldn’t help but make the fact Gigi liked it out of all of the other songs into something it was not.

This reminded her of her late night thoughts. She had completely forgotten to ask Gigi where she lived, but the idea didn’t seem the greatest now that she was fully awake. She was still curious though, so against her better judgement she asked, without a segway or anything.

crystal: i forgot to ask but what state do you live in? asking for science

gigi: oh i live in missouri

crystal: omg me too

gigi: i don’t wanna reveal where but this is amazing.. maybe we won’t have to break the distance at all <3

Pleased that she somehow got an answer, Crystal changed the conversation into a discussion of ‘Midnight Memories’, and if Gigi agreed with the opinions Crystal had shared the night before. She did, for the most part and before they knew it, it was time for Gigi to go sleep. Had they really talked all evening? 

gigi: i have to get up early so i need to go to sleep but im really glad jan added u to the gc

crystal: and im happy you asked me about one direction!

gigi: me too. ur cute when ur passionate. i hope we can continue to grow closer

crystal: i’d like that.

gigi: goodnight, my clown :)

crystal: goodnight, georgia rose

gigi: U DID NOT

gigi: my full name isnt even georgia and dad isnt even a dentist but i’ll allow it bc i know u think u invented comedy

gigi: ok gn now <33 luv u

crystal: gn!!! sleep well

Crystal wanted them to stay like this forever.

[joaquinfeed]

You’re Like an Angel (Joe x Reader)

Prompt: You and Joe (You Were Never Really Here) have been casually dating for awhile. He’s let a few comments slip about his past, but nothing too revealing. Soon enough, you experience first-hand just how troubled and damaged Joe really is. Any dialogue or thoughts in italics is stuff Joe is remembering from his past.

Warnings: Cursing, descriptions of death and blood. Mentions of abuse and trauma. Bad coping mechanisms and suicidal thoughts. 

A/N: I’m not sure how many will even read this fic since the movie isn't that popular. But I spent some time on this one. So, maybe give it a read? I tried to keep Joe in character as much as I could. 

60, 59, 58, 57, 56,

Joe's fingers gripped the pill bottle like it was his only lifeline. His eyes ran over the dosage information before flickering up to the cashier. He could see the young man's mouth moving, but no words were coming out. The boy held up a white baggie containing the rest of the medication. He scanned the barcode of each bottle like Joe was his only customer for the day, and he wanted to make it last.

Other New York residents piled behind him, but he kept his eyes trained on the cashier's movements. He could feel the glares of everyone else bore into the back of him as they waited.

Stand up straight.

Joe's fist clenched around the orange bottle, the words of his late father ringing so loud in his ears he didn't hear the small crack of the plastic. His other hand carelessly brushed over his tied-up hair before wiping off the beads of sweat sticking to his face.

Stand up! Only pussies and little girls slouch!

Joe slammed his hands onto the table in front of him, his breathing coming out in ragged puffs.

"What?" Joe asked the cashier whose mouth hadn't moved since the outburst.

"I- I said your total is 18.50."

He dropped a twenty onto the table and ripped the bag from the guy's hand, rushing to get away from the prying eyes of other shoppers. He was out the door before he was handed the change.

55, 54, 53, 52, 51,

"Mom, I'm back," Joe said to his mother as soon as he came through the front door.

"Joe, come here, come here," she said from her spot in the recliner.

"What is it?"

"Look at the TV," she pointed. "Our song's on."

'A, You're Adorable' played quietly in the background of a children's commercial, as his mother hummed softly to the lyrics.

"Yeah, it is," Joe agreed before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her up. "Let's get you to bed."

"Janice loves this song. You should tell her we heard it."

Joe froze at the mention of his exes name. Janice. Before her, he had tried to date several women, all of which ended up leaving him. For years, he found himself to be incapable of maintaining a long-term relationship. Every girl he kissed, touched, or felt connected to—they all thought they could change him—fix him. He knew he was incapable of being fixed. Janice was different; she was there for him until his plan to escape the outside world, and all it's horror eventually pushed her away. It was his fault.

"Mom, I don't talk to Janice," Joe sighed. "C'mon, let's go to bed."

While he helped his mother up the stairs and into her bed, his mind drifted to you. He hadn't mentioned anything about you to her yet because he knew it wasn't serious. You both had been on a couple of dates, and even had a couple more planned, but the odds of it lasting weren't high. So, Joe kept his mouth shut. The last thing he needed was another woman for his mom to question him about.

50, 49, 48, 47, 46,

Once Joe was back in his bedroom, he pulled out his phone and sat at the end of the bed. His fingers searched his contacts for your name, while his other hand grasped his knee. The line only rang once before you picked up.

"Hey, I didn't expect to hear from you tonight," you said on the other end.

"I didn't expect to call tonight," he retorted.

"Okay," you said. "Your call wasn't unwanted, though."

The line went silent. Joe wasn't sure why he called at such a late hour; if he was honest, he really just wanted to hear the sound of your voice.

When he didn't respond, you spoke softly into the phone. "How was your day?"

"Good," he lied, letting his hand run over his beard. "How was yours?"

"It was okay, just busy."

"Tell me about it," he said before laying back onto the bed. He closed his eyes and let the recollection of your day soothe him for a moment's notice.

"And then, to top it all off," you said, finally nearing the end of your story. "I'm at the store, right? I turn around and see a dead girl lying on the floor."

Joe's eyes snapped open. "You saw what?"

"I saw a little girl pouting on the floor," you repeated. "I have never related to anyone so much."

He exhaled. His psyche was playing tricks on him once again. Images of dead bodies struck his mind like lightning. Kids upon kids laid lifeless in transporting vehicles—all the people he couldn't save from the savagery of sex trafficking and other violent crimes.

"Joe? Is everything okay?"

What pained him even more were the kids who screamed for help as he stood watching, helpless against the gun to his head. Jobs would go wrong, and he was forced to admit to himself, once again, that he failed.

Help me! Please help me! Don't let them take me again!

They'd cry out to him in such anguish, but he could only watch. He was as useless then as he was for his mother during his father's spells of anger.

"Hey," you said. "Are you still there?"

"I've got to go," Joe hastily hung up the phone, not waiting for your response. He threw the phone onto the bed and got up to pace around the room. With every step, a new face plagued his mind—tears dripped from the kids' eyes as they begged him to keep them safe. He rarely did.

45, 44, 43, 42, 41,

Joe moved to the closet where his arms tugged on an old, mucky box full of plastic bags until they all came floating out onto the floor. He slid his back down the wall of the closet until he was sitting—bags all around him. With shaky hands, he pulled a loose sack over his head, clutching it hard enough around his face to cut off his oxygen.

"Where the hell is Joseph?"

His father's voice rung out through the household. Joe carried his little feet across the floor as fast as he could, hoping to get to his hiding place before his father caught sight of him. At nearly 10 years old, Joe could identify at least three spots in the house where his father never searched for him—cabinets, under the bed, and his closet. He often opted for the closet, where he'd pull grocery bags or plastic dry-cleaning holders over his head to drown out the noise of his mother's wails.

"Stop! Stop it! You're hurting me," she'd cry out. Little Joe pushed his hands up against his ears so tightly, they'd be red for hours after the incident.

He was scared of his father back then, and so he let his mother take all the abuse. Had he not been hiding, he would have been the one facing his father's wrath.

"You're weak. Weak, weak, weak," he repeated to himself like a mantra. He knew it was only a matter of time before you figured that out and left him like the rest.

40, 39, 38, 37, 36,

When morning came, he awoke from a thud sounding out downstairs. He stayed in bed a minute longer, wishing his blanket would swallow him whole. Without any luck, he pulled back the covers and went downstairs to find the source of the noise.

Stepping foot into the kitchen, the first thing he saw was his mom's head lying still against the hardwood table. A broken bowl of cereal was turned on its side, leaking milk that ran from the dish to the end of the surface. His eyes followed the droplets as they hit the ground, joining a stream of red liquid to create a pink puddle on the floor.

Joe's breath came out in fast shudders as he approached his mother's figure. He pulled her face up to see a plastic piece that was missing from the bowl lodged in her neck. His fingers grasped the broken part, yanking it out in one quick motion; he watched as blood shot out in spirts, covering his clothes before he could make a move to back up.

He turned around after laying his mom's head back on the table and walked slowly out of the room. He kept his steps light and his ears peeled for any trace of movement in the house. His head snapped towards the living room when he heard what sounded like a vase fall. He rounded the corner to see a tall, slim-figured man dressed in black, looking through a pile of receipts on the coffee table.

While passing the cabinet, Joe grabbed his hammer that he kept locked away, and with one quick swing to the head, the intruder was left bleeding out on the floor.

"Fu-fuck," the wounded man choked out. "Don't kill me. Don't kill me."

"I think I already have," Joe said, bending down to lay the head of the hammer on the man's stomach. "Why did you kill my mom?"

"I was told to! I- I only work for somebody, man. I don't know anything about her. I don't have anything against you."

"Who sent you?"

The man kept quiet as quick and panicked gasps left his mouth. Joe ran the end of the hammer over the man's stomach, light enough to tickle him, before pulling it back and slamming it into the guy's stomach.

"Who fucking sent you?"

"Carl. C-Carl.”

"Carl, who?"

"Carl Alcott," the dying man coughed out.

"The club owner? Fuckin' fuck," Joe dropped the hammer, and his hands slammed into the ground with force. He knew that exchange from a week ago was going to come back and bite him in the ass. Influential people don't like to be messed with.

"He's- he's- comin' for," the man's words ran together as his breath started to leave his lungs.

"For me?"

"No- no," he said. "For- for your girl."

35, 34, 33, 32, 31,

As soon as intruder took his last breath, he stuffed his body into a trash bag along with his mom's and drove them to the lakeside. As he left the city and got further into the country, his mind started to wander to you.

For your girl. Your girl.

His hands gripped the steering wheel so tight with shaking arms, he was swerving in and out of the lane. His tires screeched every time he raced around the corner, desperate to get the remnants of the bodies out of his backseat.

When he went on dates with you the few times before, he had briefly opened up about his past. He thinks he can recall saying something about a rude father, or his time in the marines and the police force. He may have even let it slip that he's seen piles upon piles of decaying corpses. He never once mentioned his new work in fear of scaring you off.

As soon as he dropped his job in law enforcement, he sentenced himself to a lonely life. The small number of friends he had, plus any relationship he conjured up, fell apart. He abandoned any wish to be happy since he couldn't protect any of the people who came near him; his mother was a testimony to that.

You were something else, though. He had bumped into you on a whim, not expecting your smile and personality to slam into his heart as it did. He agreed to one date, trying to escape the bleakness of his everyday life. But for some unknown reason, he kept coming back for more. One date turned into two, three, and four; before he knew it, you were basically his girlfriend—without the title, of course.

When he pulled up to the lakeside, he dragged both bodies out to the small bridge that ran from side to side. He attached each of them to a cinderblock and pushed them one-by-one over the edge.

"I hope you rest easier here than you did in life, mom," he said into the air.

He wondered what it would be like to attach a block to his own foot and drown with the rest of them. He wondered how that would feel—how you would feel.

He couldn't do it though. His suicidal story that he contemplated often was pushed aside in the past because he couldn't leave his mother. Now that she was gone, it appeared to be the perfect moment. But, again, he had somebody holding him back.

You were being threatened with the ultimate price, and he'd be damned if he let you suffer for something you had no part in. He was determined for once in his life to save someone important to him; he would not let you be another statistic in his head.

30, 29, 28, 27, 26,

He arrived at your apartment after going back to his and changing into a blue long-sleeve shirt, jeans, and charcoal vest. He knocked three times against the door and waited.

"Joe," you said, looking surprised to see him on the other side.

"I came to see if you wanted to go out right now, like a little date."

"Oh, sure," you smiled, and Joe couldn't help but offer you a small smile in return. "Let me just grab some money."

"I've got it. You know I've got it."

"You paid the last date," you reminded him. "You said I could next time."

He sighed, running his hand through his long locks. If he was going to get through this meal with a good conscience, he had to be the one to cover it. He knew your relationship was coming to a stop tonight. For your safety, he decided it was time to end the connection between you two—even if it'd hurt like hell.

"Please, just let me pay," he said.

"Okay," you agreed before shutting your door and joining your hand with his. "You look good today."

As soon as he got to his car, he pushed your body gently against it before capturing your mouth with his.

"I was going to tell you that," he said in between kisses. "You always look good—so perfect. And you’re all mine tonight."

You hummed against his lips, moving your hands up from his soft belly to his strong arms. "Not that I don't love this, but is everything okay? You're not usually this…"

You trailed off, and he backed up only slightly, letting your hands fall from his arms so he can intertwine them with his own.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," he assured you while pulling open the car door for you to get inside. Once you were secured, he went around and got in himself.

You smiled at him as he took off driving. "Where are we headed to?"

He took his eyes off the road for a second to smirk at you. "I'm not telling you."

"No fair," you pouted jokingly. "At least give me a hint."

"Not a fucking chance," he laughed—a real genuine sound—which is something he never does. You chuckled along with him before comfortable silence fills the car as you drive to the destination Joe picked out.

25, 24, 23, 22, 21,

He parked his car in a small parking lot and got out to open your door, mumbling something about 'keeping your eyes closed.' When you're told to open them, you're met with a worn-down diner that looks to be in the middle of nowhere. The windows are tended with the words 'Maggie's Place' scrawled across the glass. The building is painted red and white, with checkered lines running down the sides—a design that was quite popular in the '60s.

"Wow," you said, not knowing what else to say.

"I know it's not a fancy date restaurant, but my mom used to bring me here. This place is important to me."

"No, it's perfect," you told him, honestly. "I love it."

He nods in relief before leading you inside. You're quickly seated by a young waitress who looks to be no more than 17. Joe ordered a coffee while you looked over the menu for something you'd want. 

After you're done ordering, the waitress turned to Joe. "Is there anything else you'd like, sir?"

He stared blankly at her, trying to remember where he'd seen her familiar face. "What?"

"Would you like anything else?"

He shook his head and watched as she slowly walked away, staring at him the whole time she's departing. He knows that's not likely to be accurate; she probably left to the kitchen without a single glance back. His mind, however, sees her gaping at him—just like the other girls he couldn't save.

He exhaled. "What the fuck are we doing? What are we doing?"

"What do you mean?"

Your voice broke his delusion, and he snapped his head back to your face, which is sporting a concerned look.

"Nothing, nothing. Sorry."

"Don't apologize," you said. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"I don't know," you shrugged. "Whatever has been on your mind since I met you. You know, you hung up on me last night?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"Stop apologizing, Joseph."

"Don't call me that," he barked at you, his fist clenching the side of booth tightly.

You snapped your mouth shut at Joe's harsh tone. He had been angry before; you'd seen it first-hand but never directed towards yourself.

"My father used to call me that," he muttered, his words still sounding loud in the otherwise quiet diner. "I don't like it."

"I won't do it again," you promise. "How's your mom?"

He paused, fully prepared to go with a lie. As he met your eyes though, he couldn't will himself to deceive you further. Instead, he shook his head while taking in a deep breath through his nose.

"Actually, she passed away."

Your eyes widened. "What? When?"

"This morning."

"Oh my God, Joe," you breathed out, your mouth opening and closing, trying to find some way to console him. "That's- I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he said softly. "She'll be happier now."

"How—if you don't mind me asking—did it, you know, happen?"

Memories of earlier flooded his head--the blood oozing from his mother's body like a river; he could almost see it on his hands now.

"In her sleep," Joe mumbled, hoping that was satisfactory enough to stop the probing. He didn't want you to find out, especially during your last date—not that you knew it was the last.

"I know she meant a lot to you," you said, placing a comforting hand on his. "She would have been proud of you for putting yourself out there with me. I'm just sad I never got to meet her."

"She would have liked you," Joe admitted with certainty. "Probably a little too much. She'd have you singing 'A, you're adorable' in no time."

"A, you're adorable. B, you're so beautiful, C, you're a cutie full of charms," you sang, playfully.

"D, you're delightful and, B, you're exciting and, F, you're a feather in my arms," he sang back, smiling towards the end.

The waitress soon delivered the food to your table. You and Joe ate in silence, with a few comments made here and there about the food or something that popped into your heads. After paying the bill and leaving a rather sizable tip, he drove you back to your house.

20, 19, 18, 17, 16, 

Neither of you wanted the date to finish, especially Joe, who knew he wouldn't see you again.

He dropped you off, but before leaving to walk into your place, you asked, "do you want to come in?"

He nodded. "I have something to talk to you about, actually."

"Oh, well. I wasn't inviting you in to talk, but we can do that too," you joke.

The joke falls flat—Joe was too busy worrying about how you were going to take the break-up. Not seeing him chuckle, or even offer a smile, you became concerned.

He followed you inside to your living room, where he sat on the couch while you went to the kitchen to grab a drink. He was on his feet in seconds when he heard the sound of a glass shatter on the floor. When he got to you, you were standing in the middle of the room. A man with a different build, yet dressed similarly to the one who murdered his mother, stood behind you—a gun pressed up against your skull.

Joe quickly looked you over to see if the man had hurt you yet. Besides your trembling body and sporadic breathing, you looked to be physically fine.

"Let go of her," Joe spoke calmly.

"No, I don't think I will," the man replied.

"J-Joe," you stuttered. "What's going on? Who is this?"

"Stay calm, baby," Joe spoke softly to you. "It's going to be okay."

The man behind you laughed. "Oh, Joey. If only you would have been in here sooner. Just like all those other times, huh?"

The room fell quiet; all that was heard was the air leaving your mouth.

"The laws of man, they don't apply," the gunman sang while smiling. "When blood gets in a woman's eye."

Stand up! Only pussies and little girls slouch!

Don't let them take me again!

Where the hell is Joseph?

For your girl.

The memories wouldn't stop screaming in his head—every bad thing said to him from birth until now. The urge to leave and hide in his closet was unbearable; his hands scrambled to his ears, trying to stop the voices that were getting louder and louder.

"Joe," you yelled out as the gunman took advantage of his opportunity and started to drag you out of the kitchen. "Joe!"

You struggled against the larger man's clutch, trying to get an edge on him. He nearly got you to the front door before you heard a loud blast echo through the house. The guy's grip on you loosened, and you watched as he dropped to the ground.

15, 14, 13, 12, 11,

Joe's arms slide around your frame before you even notice he's there. You keep still, gawking at the body lying at your legs. His blood was seeping through his shirt, already creating a pool of red by your shoes.

You felt strong arms pulling you away from the scene, and only then did you look at Joe.

"What- what," you stumble, glancing between him and the man on the floor. "Why did-why?"

"Come on," he said softly. "Don't look at him."

Too shocked to resist, you let him lead you outside to his car. He sits you inside, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"I'll be right back," he told you. "I'm going to clean up. Y/N, listen to me. Do you hear me?"

You nod faintly.

"Please don't go anywhere," he kisses your forehead again, lingering a little longer before going back inside to wrap the body and clean the floor.

You watched him come back out fifteen minutes later, a human-shaped trash bag in his arms. You fight the urge to open the door and run for your life. You're not sure what Joe was planning to do with the man—with you.

He shoved the body in the trunk and made his way to the front seat. The silence that loomed over you both this time was not one of comfort like all those other drives before. No, this one was full of tension and emotional turmoil.

"Are you okay? Do you want a soda?"

You stayed quiet, not answering his questions. You rested your head on the window, watching as the city buildings got fewer and fewer. Joe decided it was best to take you to a small park in a country town far outside the New York City limits.

You listened to the radio, soft music by Rosie and the Originals played in the speakers.

'It's just like heaven being here with you. You're like an angel, too good to be true. But after all, I love you, I do. Angel baby, my angel baby.'

10, 9, 8, 7, 6,

It was nearing dark when Joe finally parked the car. Neither of you knew what to say or how even to start the much-needed conversation. So, you decided to take the plunge.

"Are you going to kill me now?"

Joe gaped at you like you'd just asked him what his name was—like the answer was obvious.

"Of- of course not," he stammered. "Fuck, Y/N. I would never do that."

"You just shot someone, Joe! And who the hell was that? Why were they holding a gun to my fucking head?"

"Calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down," you cautioned, taking off your seatbelt so you could turn towards him. "What do you do for a living? How do you know people like that?"

"I rescue people," he said, and you scoffed. "I know that doesn't sound right, but it's true. I rescue missing people, usually kids."

"So, what? You're a cop?"

"Not exactly," he trails off. "I- I was sort of. Then, one day I was at a crime scene. I found a truck full of Chinese girls. They- they all had been kidnapped to be trafficked. I found them, but it was too late."

He paused, his voice cracking on his next words. "They were already dead."

The air in the car was getting heavy. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes as Joe recounted the events that led him to his current occupation. 

"The man who killed my mom," he started. "Carl Alcott. He's coming for you. I don't mean to scare you, but he knows you're with me."

"Okay, so we'll leave."

Joe faltered. "You want to stay with me?"

"I do. That might seem crazy, but I do."

He considered it for a moment before shaking his head firmly. "No. You can't. This can't go on. We have to end this here before it gets too serious."

"I just saw you shoot someone," you reminded him. "It's already serious. I'm coming."

"No, Y/N! I refuse to let you be another person that I couldn't save. You have to leave alone—move very far away. You need to change your number, your bank information, everything."

"I'm not leaving you," you stated.

Joe grumbled, his mouth twitching in anger and pent up emotions. "Everyone always has! My father beat the shit outta my mom, and I just hid from him. I was too late to save those girls, and I've had too many children be ripped from my sight because I couldn't save them. I'm weak. I can't save you. I'm weak."

His whole body shook as strangled sobs escaped his lips. He brought his hands up to cover his face before he moved them down to tug off his vest and shirt. He was desperate to get out of the material that was making him feel too claustrophobic in the small car.

Once both of his tops were discarded to the back seat, you finally reached across the middle console and pulled Joe into your arms loosely. He clenched your shirt as his father's words,' only pussies and little girls slouch,' played through his mind like a broken record.

"It's okay. Let it all out," you said against his ear, rubbing a soothing circle over his back while still being mindful of his bruises and cuts. "I'm right here. I'm not leaving."

"You- you should."

"Maybe so," you said. "But I don't want to."

"You can't fix me."

"I don't want to; you're perfect the way you are. I only want to try and make you happier."

He retracted his head from your shoulder to meet your eyes. "Why?"

"I- I think I could fall in love with you," you admitted, shrugging slightly. You saw the onset of panic flash through Joe's eyes, so you quickly kept talking. "You don't have to say it back. I just wanted to tell you that."

He wiped his face of any tears and sighed. "I think I could fall in love with you too."

A smile tugged at your lips for first time since the date, and he again felt himself smiling right back.

You watched him put back on his seatbelt, and you swiftly copied his movements. "Where are we going to go now?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"I think we should probably do something about the body in the trunk."

He looked at you and laughed. "I think you're right."

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

It didn't take long to dispose of the gunman; after all, it wasn't Joe's first time. Before long, you were set out across the country to go wherever your hearts desired.

In the midst of the drive, his hand found yours across the console. And for once in his life, he didn't feel the need to run his car off the road.

[legxllyblxndc]

GABRIELA SARACEN  || bio

age: 24 occupation: west end actor (currently playing janice in mean girls)  relationship status: single  about: 

the household that gabriela was brought up with was loud and full of love. she was from a big family so the household was always full of noise and no-one ever really got a moments peace. while gaby didn’t think it was the worst thing in the world, as soon as she was able too, she moved out. she lives on her own now and that’s absolutely how she likes it. she gets her quiet and if she needs more, she goes home. she has the best of both worlds.

although some people would call gabriela mean, she just says that she says things how she sees them. she has never really seen the point in not being honest with people. if you ask her a question, she will tell you what you need to hear and not what she thinks that you want to hear. she will make her opinion known, always. people liken her to her grandmother annabelle in that sense.

even though there is kindness in her heart, gabriela has cheated on every single one of her boyfriends. she just finds herself getting bored - at least that’s what she tells herself. if you dug down deep enough, you would see that gabriela was raised by a couple that was so in love. they were the real, perfect love story. they had been teenage sweethearts, married at 18 and started their family at 19. although she would never admit it - she doesn’t really realise it herself - gabriela wants that. she cheats on the boys that she has been with because she doesn’t think that they will give her what she needs. she gets wrapped up in someone else and then hurts the person that she was previously seeing. she bounces from boy to boy.

gabrielas role model has always been her ‘aunt’ emilie. she loves seeing how confident the other woman is, how she never lets anyone give her shit and that’s always what gabriela has wanted to be. she would spend as much of her time as she could with emilie, growing up. emilie taught gabriela how to cook - which is still something that they enjoy to do together now. they meet at least once a week for dinner, together.

when gabriela got her place at moutview, she was absolutely over the moon and threw herself into her schooling. she wanted to make sure that she absolutely deserved her position at drama school and she did just that. just before gabriela graduation, she got herself an agent and has been working just as hard outside of school, as she was in. she wants to make it so badly. since leaving drama school, she has never really stopped working. she went straight into the ensemble of fame while also understudying the mabel. she then went onto tracy turnblads understudy in hairspray and was there for almost two years - she took up the full time share of the title role in the second half of her second year. her biggest break, though, came when she was cast as janice in the uk debut of mean girls. it was the first time that she didn’t start out as an understudy and she is so excited to show people what she is made off - especially with janice not necessarily having to be a fat character. she feels like she has really earnt this one.  

despite her industry having a huge bias against it, gabriela has never really cared about the fact that she is fat. she is determined to break the stereotype and show that absolutely anyone - of any shape or size - can play any role. including the romantic lead. she knows that she’s pretty and she’s confident in herself. she doesn’t let anyone bring her down.

[oharaswife]

From Hate To Love - Alex Morgan x Reader - Chapter 1

A/N : Hello people, welcome to my new Alex x Reader story. To sum it up a little it will be an “enemies to lovers” kind of story with a lot of angst and drama. R is the new girl on the USWNT and for some reason Alex doesn’t like her at all, mostly because she thinks she’s an arrogant person, who loves breaking women’s heart aka a massive fuckboy. Also this is before the WC.

WORD COUNT : 3.2K

Warnings : Angst, light swearing

Anyway, hope you’ll like it.

ENJOY

When Alex first saw Y/N Y/LN, it was on her TV as she was introduced to the world as the newest addition to the USWNT. She remembered thinking that having a new talented attacking midfielder could only be a good thing. But after 5 minutes in the interview, her excitement turned into dread and slight anger. She knew the second she saw the smug look on the new player’s face that she wasn’t going to like her. She reeked of cockiness despite her clear lack of experience and that only infuriated Alex. Plus, the fact that she was depicted by the media as “The soccer player the USWNT desperately needed” only seemed to add fuel to the fire. Maybe they weren’t playing to the best of their abilities lately, but that didn’t mean they desperately needed someone new. Alex wasn’t jealous of the new girl, only hurt over the fact that her - and her teammates - had worked their asses off to get to where they were today, only to have all their work thrown out the window because some random 25 yo girl posted videos of herself humiliating people in amateur friendly games. How does a girl who’s never played a game on a professional level - or in any club related team for that matter - become a professional soccer player overnight, worse even, how does she get propelled to a national team without being properly tested beforehand? Part of her hated Ashlyn for showing a compilation of the girl’s feats to Jill who, shockingly, immediately took it upon herself to make her a part of the National Team as soon as possible. But another part of her, a very small part though, felt that the girl could be an asset to the team, at least on the field.

When she first met her, Alex promised Kelley she’d tried to be nice, having shared with her best friend her growing dislike for the girl. But the second the midfielder spoke to her, hatred started bubbling up in her guts again. “Hey gorgeous.” She had greeted her, a smirk on her face, which only angered Alex, because who says that when they meet their future “co-worker” for the first time. She still shook her hand, introducing herself quickly before instantly establishing a distance between them both, which Y/n didn’t seem to mind, or notice. During the two weeks that followed Alex barely spoke to the girl, unless it was on the field or during trainings. Her other teammates though had all grown really close to her, which caused Alex to isolate herself sometimes since they all gravitated around the new midfielder as if she was the new star of their galaxy. Even her own girlies Allie and Kelley seemed to have fallen for her, too busy flirting with her sometimes to notice Alex, which the latter didn’t get at all. How could they be friends with her when she enjoyed toying with women’s feelings? In just a few days, Alex had seen Y/N flirt with every woman she came across. She’d lost count of how many women she’d seen walking out of Y/N’s room when morning would come. Maybe she was a bit jealous of the attention the girl was getting all the time, but only because she felt like she was left on the sidelines most of the time. The only person she could talk to was Servando. Granted he wasn’t physically with her most of the time, but he was always there to listen to her when she needed it, even though she spent most of her time complaining about Y/N.

When Orlando Pride offered Y/N a deal with them, Alex lost it, complaining to Kelley about it this time.

“I have to put up with her smug face and consistent flirting with everyone on the National Team, I don’t need that in my club as well.” Alex had yelled, her anger getting the best out of her.

“Chill, Al. You don’t even know if she’s gonna sign with Orlando. She said she received a lot of offers from different clubs.” Kelley answered her, plopping on the couch next to her.

“Well I hope she goes to play in Europe, where I don’t have to see her. I can’t stand her.” Alex shot angrily.

“Why though? I think she’s pretty cool, and super-hot.” Kelley replied absentmindedly, but regretted her words instantly as she saw the glare Alex sent her way. She chose to drop the subject knowing how Alex would get whenever her name was mentioned. It wasn’t until a few days later, at another press conference that Y/N announced that she would be signing with the Thorns, much to Sonnett and Tobin’s pleasure, who felt like they’d found a sister in Y/N. Alex was only happy because she wouldn’t have to see her that often hopefully.

For now though, she was going to have to be around her for a month, as the January camp was starting today, to prepare for the 2019 World Cup in France.

Alex was happy to see most of her best friends again, at least the ones she didn’t get to see in the past month, but was secretly hoping they wouldn’t be obsessing over Y/N like last time. She was one of the first ones to arrive to the hotel. The team soon started arriving in groups, depending on where they were playing the rest of the year. The first ones to arrive were the Royal girls and Alex was excited to see Kelley again, especially without Y/N being around to steal her away, to steal anyone away for that matter.

ALEX’S POINT OF VIEW

The fact that I was rooming with my best friend did help, maybe we’d get to hang out as much as we used to, at least I hoped so. I didn’t know exactly when Y/N arrived, but since Tobin and Christen knocked on our door to say hi, I assumed the new Portland player was here as well. It wasn’t until we made our way to dinner that I saw her. She was in the hotel lobby with the rest of the girls, probably waiting for Preath, Kelley and I so we could all go and eat out, to catch up. She was in the midst of a hug with Julie when her eyes fell on me or more like on us. A small smirk made its way to her face while I just rolled my eyes, seeing Kelley sprint towards the girl and jump into her arms, engulfing her in a hug. Dread overcame me as I got closer.

“Hey Alex.” was all she said as she saw me, no unwanted compliments or sweet names which made me frown slightly. She usually couldn’t help but use pet names with me, no matter how much I hated it, or her for the matter.

“Hi.” I answered, not wanting to be impolite.

From the corner of my eyes, I saw Kelley give her a thumbs up, making Y/N roll her eyes.

“What was that about?” I questioned Kelley. But got no real answer from her, she just shrugged her shoulders before we all started walking outside. I made a mental note to ask about it again later, not wanting to drop the subject, especially if it had something to do with me.

—

Dinner went surprisingly well, at least at first. I was more involved in the conversation than last time we all were together, as Y/N spent practically the whole lunch talking to Sonny, Megan and Ashlyn. But of course, she had to ruin everything again. In the middle of dinner, she got up as the girls started cheering her on, causing the rest of us to look her way. She walked towards the bar, with her typical smug grin on her face. She turned around sending a quick wink to Megan before she reached the bar.

“What’s going on?” Kelley asked as the cheers died down and everyone started looking intently in the direction of the bar.

“She said that the bartender was beautiful, so we dared her to get her number in less than 3 minutes.” Sonnett answered before adding. “Which I’m pretty sure is impossible.” She added before checking the timer on Megan’s phone, ready to yell LOSER the second it would reach three minutes.

Why she always had to be such a fuckboy was something I didn't get. All I knew was that it was pissing me off. It seemed like everything she did was angering me, and I had no control over it. I was hoping she’d get rejected but as I saw the flirtatious smile on the bartender’s face, I groaned earning a confused look from Kelley. Before we even had the time to process it, she was returning to the table, faintly smirking as Megan stopped the timer.

“Sooo?” Ashlyn started wiggling her eyebrows. “Did you get it?”

Y/N stepped closer to look at the timer before her smirk turned into a grin, nodding her head.

“And it only took 2 minutes.” She shot arrogantly, as she proceeded to show the new marked phone number on her forearm, with the name Leana written next to it.

“Nothing to be proud about.” I heard myself say before I could even process it causing everyone to look at me.

“Al-” Kelley started probably trying to get me to back off, but she instantly got interrupted by Y/N.

“Why not?” She shot at me, with a daring look on her face.

“Well I don’t think you should be proud to be a fuckboy.” I answered truthfully, tired of having to stay civil with her. Weirdly enough, that brought a smile to her face as the rest of the girls just glared at me.

“You should probably stop talking now Janice.” Allie said. Even she was siding with her apparently which only fuelled my anger more.

“No, I’m curious. What’s a fuckboy to you?” She asked resting her chin on her hand, as she looked at me intently, her trademark smirk not leaving her face even for a second. I looked at her, as if questioning if she actually wanted an answer, but she only looked at me like she was amused.

“Well to make it short, a fuckboy is someone who doesn’t respect women, and doesn’t care about their feelings. Someone who only cares about sex and is self-absorbed. Someone who doesn’t actually have a heart and doesn’t care how many she breaks. That’s literally you.” I answered proudly, sure of myself and that seemed to make her face fall slightly.

“Alex for fuck’s sake.” Ali shot, clearly angry at me now, her head falling into her hands. But I didn't back down, I was only speaking the truth.

“Well it’s good to know what you really think about me at last.” She said after some time. I was waiting for her to retort, deny or maybe proudly admitting that she enjoyed being a player but none of that came. Instead, she eventually got up, excused herself, telling the girls she’s meet them at the hotel, and got up before leaving without another word leaving me confused.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ashlyn shot, anger winning her over. They were all glaring at me, absolutely all of them, some were fuming more than the others. Even Christen who is the literal embodiment of peace, was looking at me with hatred.

“I’m only speaking the truth.” I retorted, shrugging my shoulders.

“No you’re not.” Tobin interfered. “You don’t even know her. You’ve never made an effort to actually talk to her. So how would you know if she respects women or not or if she has a heart.” Disappointment was written all over her face much to my surprise.

“I honestly didn’t peg you for the petty kind of person.” Sonnett finally shot before everyone focused on their lunch again, in silence this time, because of me.

—————

READER’S POINT OF VIEW

Heading back to the hotel, Alex’s words resonated in my mind. I knew she didn’t like me that much, I just had no idea why until today. It was stupid of me to ask Kelley what I could do to make her like me more, not enjoying the fact that there was tension between me and my teammate. But clearly, she had an opinion of me and didn’t want it to change, so why should I try anymore. I walked back to my room, taking a quick shower before I walked up to the roof, knowing I would find comfort staring at the stars, or more like I’d get lost in them and forget what happened. I sat down, leaning against the wall on the roof and lost myself in my thoughts. It did hurt a little that Alex would think that about me, because after all she never actually talked to me. We only ever said hi to each other, never speaking more than 2 words to each other, unless it was soccer related. Had she actually talked to me, she would know that I do respect women, that I care deeply about women, but yes, loving someone was something else. I had a complicated story, but she wasn’t interested enough to ask for it, or hear it for the matter. Maybe I should just keep my distance and stop trying to get her to like me eventually. I didn’t know how long I stayed here, lost in my thoughts. It wasn’t until I heard the roof door opening that I brought my attention back to my surroundings.

“There you are.” I heard a voice say, before seeing Kelley walk towards me, followed by Ashlyn and Ali.

“Hey guys.” I answered tiredly, actually exhausted.

“We’ve been calling you non-stop.” Ali pointed to my phone that was lying on the floor as she sat down next to me, a worried look on her face.

“Sorry I got lost in my thoughts I guess.” I replied apologetically, as Ali rested her head on my shoulder, the other two sitting in front of me.

“You know you shouldn’t pay attention to what Alex says. I don’t know why she feels this way about you but deep down she’s not a bad person.” Kelley defended making me scoff.

“Yeah allow me to doubt that.” I said before adding quickly. “I don’t care guys really. I’ve had worse things said to me. I just won’t try anymore that’s all.” I lied. Of course I have had worse things said to me, but on a deeper level, I did care about what the forward thought about me. And obviously Ali knew I did.

“You do care Y/N.” She pointed. “You told me you used to idolize her. So, it would be normal to be hurt by her behaviour.”

“Maybe, but I’m not a kid. I’ll get over it.” I replied before getting up, ready to go back to my room as it was late. I saw the sad looks they exchanged before they all followed me out of the roof, and back to our floor we were staying on.

Tiredly dragging my feet, I was surprised when I saw Alex standing in front of the room I shared with Sonny. She looked at me ready to speak but I walked past her, opening the door turning around at the last second.

“Let’s not pretend we’re ever going to like each other. You don’t like me, and honestly the feeling is mutual, so let’s just stay professional and only speak to each other when necessary. I honestly don’t give a shit about what you think about me. And trust me you don’t want to know what I think about you.” I shot angrily, not giving her the time to say anything, before I turned to the girls who were previously with me on the roof. “Goodnight ladies.” And with that I slammed the door in her face, not giving a shit anymore. She thought I didn’t care about my actions possibly hurting the women around me, I was going to show how much that statement would apply to her.

————

Alex’s point of view

Having the door slammed in my face hurt more than I liked to admit. I wasn’t used to her being angry and upset. She usually always had a smile on her lips, even though it always seemed arrogant. I turned to the three girls who looked at me as if to say “You brought that upon yourself.” And without saying anything I walked back to my room, heading straight for bed, the images of the anger on her face filling my head. She obviously wasn’t used to girls not going her way, and not falling for her instantly. I wasn’t going to be one of her groupies, that was for sure. Here I was, going to apologize for being an asshole, and she was the one who ended up acting like one.

“You know you could actually talk to her.” Kelley said as she walked in the room. “I’m sure you would like her.” She added and that caused a wholehearted laugh to escape me.

“Yeah I don’t think so.” I answered making her roll her eyes.

“I’m pretty sure you like her, but she just infuriates you on some level, the only question is why.” Kelley added as she slipped into bed to which I didn’t answer with anything, not wanting to elaborate any more than I had to. I didn’t like her. I was in a happy relationship with Servando. The new girl just got under my skin and there was nothing I could do to stop that.

To be continued...

A/N : That ends our first chapter. There’s a lot of angst planned for this whole story but eventually the relationship between R and Alex will evolve.

Next chapter, there’s trouble in paradise for Alex and Servando, and a looooot more of jealous Alex in store. (Maybe some jealous R as well)

I live off feedback so let me know if you liked it !

-Kat

[its-freakinbats]

heaven don’t have a name-- q.b.

Part One

Oof.

First off, let me just start off by saying, “my bad”. My hiatus wasn’t supposed to be this long; family matters were abundant, and just when I thought I overcame them, the good ol’ chronic depression kicked in.  

Those of you who decided to read chapter two anyway are absolute darlings and I deserve none of you. I will still continue this story for those of you who are interested, and am still sticking by my estimate of ten chapters. 

Fun fact: when writing this story, I managed to send my dad this story by mistake, so dad if you’re reading this, no I don’t take constructive criticism. 

Anywho.

The story is still very much going to be a reader/QB story, but the POV will be shifting every so often, so as to get some of Quentin’s reactions to how things play out. I figured it would be pretty tough to see Quentin’s inner turmoil if the entire story was from reader’s POV. 

Lots of dialogue in this chapter, and I can only hope and pray that I managed to get Quentin’s manipulative persona somewhat right. 

Enjoy, my darlings!

Quentin strolled down the walkway with his hands in his pockets and a peppy tune buzzing in his throat.

He didn’t think it would be this easy to find her. 

Part of him expected Janice to return to him with bad news; that the agent they were looking for had staged an elaborate set up for him. That she couldn’t be found.

However, he was pleasantly surprised to hear that the woman was staying twenty minutes from the site of the previous nights attack, and had appeared to be on a vacation of sorts. 

Janice had suggested that obscurity for the woman was out of the question entirely for her; her past history with the Avengers would be sure of that.

He supposed the agent knew no other way of life; after her identity was handed over following the events of Hydra’s resurface in 2014, he could only imagine the hoops she had jumped through in order to veil herself before the Snap. 

Then, obscurity wasn’t a luxury she could afford. 

He supposed that’s why she hadn’t attempted to mask herself from the world last night. 

He’d been up into the early hours of the morning reading whatever he’d been supplied, and then some. Of course he’d been familiar with the Avengers over the last decade or so; but who hadn’t? 

After witnessing aliens who’d mindlessly attacked New York under the orders of a megalomaniacal demi-god, it was clear that the world had changed: superheroes existed, and so did their otherworldly adversaries.

He thought back to her first appearance. 

At the time of the attack, the first four figures were easy enough to make out--Tony Stark, Captain Steve Rogers, Thor, and a large green mass that had been identified as scientist Bruce Banner. The group of them were icons of sorts--heroes to many. 

And then there were the other three.

Just like Romanoff and Barton, she was virtually invisible to everything except for the eye. At the time, the only indication that they were real was the grainy footage showing several individuals fighting the alien threats. 

He knew that she was on the younger side when she helped neutralize Loki’s threat, and that she was equipped with some sort of gauntlet pair. Other than that, she was a mystery.

He vaguely recalled a comment made by Tony Stark during a meeting once. 

“Mouthy as hell, that one. Doesn’t take no for an answer. I’d swear she was mine if her mother wasn’t a shut in.”

Everything else he’d learned about her had been through news articles, and even then, there wasn’t much. 

From what he now knew about her, however, she was a mixed bag. The agent was a level seven with access to information he couldn’t even begin to conceive. 

He wondered what the worst thing she ever had to cover up was.

She was an only child of a prominent member of SHIELD; her mother had served primarily in the eighties and nineties, and if he read correctly, she had ties all over. 

Government work did that, he supposed. 

The father wasn’t named, but a report he found several pages later had suggested he’d been in Colorado in 2009.

That was the first reported instance of her using her gauntlets and the name Soleil.

Before Manhattan, SHIELD had used her as a mouthpiece to placate simmering threats across the world. Apparently, she was silver-tongued, and damn good at it, too.

She’d been used as a way to get the demigod, Loki, to talk. The files on the 2012 attack stated that she was harsh, and unforgiving in her interrogation. He recalled how blunt she had seemed just last night, and he believed the report. 

She was just like the other two SHIELD agents: practiced in hand to hand combat, marksmanship, observation, and ambiguity. Where the other two had seemingly been picked up out of nowhere, she was born for SHIELD.

Her mother hadn’t been expected to be a parent, and surprised everyone at the age of forty-one. 

Twenty two years or so later, her only child would be sent to neutralize her first issue. 

He couldn’t even think of what he’d been doing in his early twenties.

Probably amphetamines to keep himself awake all night to finish whatever tech he’d been obsessing over.

By twenty-three, she’d been taken under Nick Fury’s wing and deemed a significant, if reckless, threat by a few different organizations globally.

He learned that her mother was found dead as a victim during the Manhattan attacks, when the younger woman was only twenty-five.

He thought of how disillusioned she had seemed when they spoke. No wonder the disbandment of the Avengers left her in a state; they were likely the only family she had left after that.

Quentin had made a note to remind Janice about retrieving the dogtag he knew the agent coveted so much. Her mother’s dogtag.

The Hydra Uprising had brought many things to light; not just of her, but of SHIELD as a whole. On the surface, they’d been a non-descript organization the US had implemented in the forties to ensure global safety from one end of the world. He supposed that that hadn’t necessarily been a lie, but he’d been astonished by the amount of threats that were regularly being avoided, and just how little the people knew of it. 

It made him wonder what all she knew.

Who else was out there, other than Thanos? What would they do should a larger threat come for them? And what could people like Tony Stark do to prevent it altogether?

He gritted his teeth at the thought of his former boss. Stark had measures for earth stored away, but for otherworldly threats? .

The chagrin in his blood fell just as quickly as it had risen at the thought of his old mentor, however. Stark was long gone, and the only person to carry on his legacy would be pliable, forgiving. 

Peter Parker would lose Stark’s new tech one way or another, and he briefly wondered if he could use her to get it for him.

Tony Stark would lose the final thing he’d gifted the world, and his legacy would soon be replaced by a newer, more unstoppable hero. Someone who was infallible, and didn’t have to rely on teenagers to finish his job. Stark’s legacy would be continued as a satire, while he reigned victorious as the world’s source of hope. 

Tony Stark did much for the world, he’d give him that, but he would do so much more.

With his hands in his pockets and a spring in his step, Quentin marched up the stairs to the hotel. 

“Hotel cameras pin her outside of her room just two minutes ago,” Mortimer said in his ear piece. 

His eyes scanned the spacious hotel lobby, and his lips quirked when he saw a familiar shade of hair. 

“Got her,” Quentin said quietly. He removed the ear piece before shoving it into his coat pocket. 

Even with her back turned to him, he recognized her. The images plastered on the news of her and her teammates had practically been burned into his head. Her hair was down for once, and she wore leisurely summer clothes instead of the body conforming suit she’d worn in combat. He briefly thought that her current outfit suited her far better than her alter ego’s.

His fingers grazed over the chairs that adorned the lobby, as he heard her thank the concierge for their assistance. He began to stride towards the door, and ended up colliding with her moments later. 

She bounced off of him with an, “Oof,” and he lifted his hands to steady her.

She smiled politely at him and gave a quiet, “Thank you.” 

Before she could turn to leave, however, Quentin spoke up.

“I was hoping you had gotten that looked at,” he commented. He let go of her arms, and he watched as her eyes fell. He wondered if she recognized his voice.

When she looked back at him, her expression was unreadable. 

He was hoping she would say something, and soon, instead of walking away and deeming him a creep. It would make his job just that much more difficult.

Instead, she surprised him with a broad smile. 

“I didn't know you were meeting me here,” she said, feigning excitement. 

Quentin smiled, and did his best to play along with whatever game she was starting.

“I figured there was no harm, since we’re getting lunch,” he replied, and he watched as she snaked her arm in the crook of his. She led the way to the door, and spoke as if they were old friends. With as much as he knew about her now, he almost felt that way.

She continued on about how excited she was for their lunch together, and he offered vague answers to her questions about his stay in the city. They walked in tandem around the courtyard, before ending up beside a fountain. 

When they were alone, she pulled away from him and regarded him; she was still indecipherable, even as she spoke.

“You’re a good actor,” she stated.

He was surprised by how quickly her demeanor had shifted, but chided himself. This had been her job for quite a while, after all.

“Not quite as good as you are,” he replied.

Her expression didn’t change. Her tone, however, was accusatory.

“Who else knows where I’m staying?” She asked.

“No one.” 

Her eyes finally gave something away; she didn’t believe him. Part of him was grateful for that. He would have thought her a fool if she had been so easily trusting.

“Why are you at my hotel?” she asked.

“Maybe it’s my hotel, too,” he replied smoothly.

Her expression didn’t falter, and she looked away. 

“I’m sure you’ve seen stranger things than a familiar face,” he offered. Her gaze remained fixed on the crowd that they’d passed on their way out of the hotel, though he noticed as her brow furrowed in concentration.

He continued to watch her. His mind whirled as he considered all of the things she had been through over the last twelve years. The neutrality she continued to pose suggested nothing out of the ordinary, and yet here she was. An Avenger. Someone who had no doubt seen some of the craziest things on earth. 

Finally, she turned her eyes back to him. He could have sworn he saw the wheels turning in her head. He wondered if she had done as much research on him last night as he had her. 

“Maybe...maybe I wanted to check in on you,” he said quietly. 

Her head tilted slightly and her brow furrowed.

“Really? You wanted to check in on me because of a hit to the face?” she asked incredulously.

It was Quentin’s turn to tilt his head.

“If I recall correctly, it was more than that. Or did I imagine you getting thrown across a parking lot and into a field?” he wondered.

She chewed on her lip for a moment before replying.

“I’ve taken worse.”

“Can’t be good for you in the long run,” he countered.

“Who says I’m hoping to make it that far?”

Stark had been right: she was persistent, and had a response for everything. Quentin briefly wondered if it was mandatory for an Avenger to be a smartass before they joined. 

“I didn’t realize that you had a death wish,” he started, before he heard her scoff.

“Were you raised to be nosy, or did you develop that attribute in your later years?”

Undeterred, he continued his facade of concerned hero.

“Where I come from, it’s regarded as polite to check in on someone after they’ve had a fall like that,” he said,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Part of him really enjoyed this prodding, this teasing. The circling the two of them were doing around the elephant in the room was enjoyable, if anything.

“My back is in one piece,” she answered finally. “I’ll be fine.” 

“Good to hear you’re not going to be confined to a hospital,” he added when a silence fell between the two.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” She asked. Her tone didn’t suggest annoyance. In fact, he wasn’t sure what it suggested at all.

“Kind of sounds like you want me to leave,” he said. A little prod here and there wouldn’t hurt anything.

“Kind of sounds like you have nothing better to do than interrogate me.”

Quentin didn’t respond, and he shifted his gaze towards the garden that sat beside the back of the hotel. The woman, on the other hand, must have sensed he was unsure of how to reply to that snippy remark. When she spoke up, his gaze found her again. Her expression had softened. 

“I’m grateful that you put a stop to that thing, really I am,” she said finally.  

“It was nothing,” he insisted gently. She looked at him with a perplexed expression. He looked down at the ground and stammered before adding, “Uh...you didn’t have to step in yesterday.”

“I know.” 

Well, then.

“Then, why?” he asked, looking up at her carefully.

She offered a shrug. “I’m nosy.”

“So, it had nothing to do with the two kids you helped outta there?” 

She finally seemed like she was reaching a breaking point with him.

“Is that what this is? A psychoanalysis?”

Quentin almost laughed at her response. “No, not at all. Not intentionally.”

The woman crossed her arms again. He wondered if it was habitual, or a defense mechanism. 

“Then what?” she implored. “I’m in circles here trying to figure out why you’re talking to me.”

Quentin watched her; it was bothering her more than she was letting on. He hid his smile.

“I owe you,” he said. “I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there to distract that thing. I do know that those kids wouldn’t have made it,” he added. 

She was quiet for a moment as she took in his words.

“You don’t owe me a thing,” she said quietly.

Quentin shook his head.

“I do, though. You don’t—” he said before he stopped suddenly. She regarded him with another quizzical look. He remained silent, just long enough to seem as if he was searching for the words to say. He ran a hand through his hair, feigning stress before rushing the words.

“Can I at least get you a coffee? Tea? Whatever you start your day with?” He looked at her imploringly, and he watched as she pursed her lips. 

“You don’t have to say yes, you know,” he added.

In her silence, he could see the different emotions running through her eyes. How much of it was real, he wasn’t sure. 

She didn’t smile at him, but there was the slightest quirk of her mouth before she answered next.

“So you did go to my hotel looking for me,” she said. 

That certainly wasn’t what he was expecting.

“I did,” he admitted; he shoved his hands in his pockets as he faced her.

“Well, at least you’re honest about your nosiness,” she said. “I thought you didn’t want to talk to me last night?” she added, furrowing her brow. 

“What I believe I said was, ‘I don’t want to keep you out here late.’ It’s possible you didn’t hear that after getting hit in the head.”

“Gaslighting,” the woman said with a laugh. “Not a tactic most go for when picking up a woman.”

He laughed at that, too. A genuine laugh.

“Like I said, I was just hoping to get you some coffee,” he said. Her expression was, again, unreadable. “No motives, no agenda. Just some coffee. Maybe a walk while it’s not too late.”

She was quiet for a moment, and took the time to observe her surroundings as she considered what he said. 

She was much more animated than she’d been yesterday. Quentin wondered if that was her usual response to near-death experiences.

“You said you knew who I was,” she said finally. “Last night.”

“Yes,” he insisted.

“Then you know that I have taken down far larger men, and aliens before,” she assumed.

“Yes,” he repeated. Of that, he was sure. 

“You know that even with your glowing green Shego hands I can easily find a way to have you on your ass, right?” 

He didn’t doubt that.

“I do.”

He was smooth when he spoke, not wanting to give her any reason to doubt him.

She observed him carefully, her eyes searching for any sort of hint of deception. He hoped he masked it well enough. 

He’d been told before that he had kind features, and he was hoping that they didn’t suggest anything else.

She released a sigh and nodded slowly.

“Fine,” she agreed. “Just until I have to leave. No longer than that.”

Quentin hid his satisfaction, and offered his elbow to her. She was uneasy, but took it anyway.

She was a brave one, he thought before leading her away from the hotel. \

Perhaps this would be easier than he thought.

✹

“I thought you said no agendas,” the agent said from Quentin’s left. He peered from over his coffee cup and shot the woman a quizzical look. 

“Does coffee have an agenda attached to it?” he wondered. 

The woman had been preoccupied during their venture to the cafe, and had remained so as they wandered around. Of course, she’d answer superficial questions he threw her way: what the doctor said about her head injury, how many she’d ever received, etc. It wasn’t until that moment that she had instigated a conversation.

“Everything has an agenda attached to it,” she answered cryptically. When he didn’t answer, he saw her struggle to speak again.

“Objectively speaking, agendas don’t always have a negative connotation attached to them. Sometimes, it’s just a goal, or a means to an end. A phone company might make their products less than top tier to ensure that a customer gets the newest model after two years, therefore bringing in revenue.”

She kicked at a nearby rock before trailing off to throw away her empty cup. When she returned, she spoke again.

“A macchiato on the other hand suggests that one party may be looking for information from a second party. What kind of pay they’re expecting from a job, or the contents of their upcoming novel—“

“Or what the second party was doing in their hotel,” Quentin cut her off. 

“Or what the second party was doing in their hotel,” she agreed.

He offered her a winning smile, and he watched her eyes flick up towards him before focusing back on the road ahead. 

“So...yesterday. You said something that’s been bothering me,” she said, leading the way down the walkway.

He continued watching her.

“I asked if you’d been living under a rock. You said, ‘Something like that.’ What did you mean?” she asked.

Quentin’s lips twitched.

Showtime.

“You witness me fight a humanoid typhoon, and you decide not to ask me about that, but some offhand comment I made?” he asked incredulously. 

“That was my follow up question,” she added. “What was that? What do I need to do to make sure that another one of those things doesn’t come out of nowhere and decimate the population of Fresno?”

“I’m not sure that that will be the case,” he replied cryptically. 

“What does that mean?” she said, sounding slightly annoyed. “You know for sure that there’s not an angry army of wind people who are going to want others dead? Who want you dead?”

Quentin took a few more steps before stopping. He heard her stop, and he spun around to face her. She watched him intently, and he squared his shoulders. 

“That monster didn’t come out of nowhere,” he said after a moment. 

She shuffled beside him, and he felt as her gaze remained on him; more than likely looking for any possible clues, he thought.

He looked down and could very much see the problem solving side working out in her head.

“You were right. Last night, I mean. I...haven’t been living under a rock, but I—“ he started, before running a hand through his hair. 

“We’re from...elsewhere,” he said thinly. 

She rolled her eyes at that answer.

“Yeah, I gathered that. Care to inform me where exactly?”

He didn’t reply at first. He’d practiced the conversation a few times, and wondered how to sound most organic.

“Look, I’ve been to space,” she interrupted. “I’ve seen alien planets, and I’ve seen aliens. I’ve fought against aliens. I actually played cards with a few aliens,” she added. “I’ve seen way more than I ever thought I would have. There’s nothing you can say that would surprise me.”

His lips twitched. 

“I’m not talking about space aliens. I’m talking about alternate dimensions,” he said finally.

She nodded, though he thought he saw indecision in her eyes.

“So, alternate dimensions gave birth to this thing?” she asked indignantly. 

“Not necessarily,” Quentin said as he began to walk away. He thought her heard her huff from beside him.

“The alternate dimensions have existed for a while, but the Elementals haven’t.”

“Elementals? Plural?” The more he spoke, the more exasperated she sounded.

“Four of them. Thanos inadvertently created them when he snapped his fingers. They’re made out of the traditional building blocks of inhabitable worlds: air, earth, water, and fire. They...they came to my world after the first Snap, and they...they destroyed my world before another Snap could happen.”

He heard her footsteps slow again, and at first he didn’t turn to look at her. Instead, his shoulders shook slightly as he played the facade of loss. As he stood in his spot, he heard her shift uncomfortably.  

“I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what that must be like,” she said finally. Her voice was stoic, but he wondered just how stoic she felt. 

Quentin offered a solemn nod, and a heartbroken laugh.

“There’s not much that they can take away from me now,” he said. 

The agent didn’t respond, and he took that as an opportunity to continue playing victim.

“It’s...not easy, that’s for sure. It was bad enough trying to cope with what Thanos had done,” he said softly. “I thought that we had started to move on. I thought it would get better.” 

If he had read about her as thoroughly as he had thought, that would have struck a chord with her. If anyone knew of loss, it was her.

“I thought it would get better, too. I’m not sure that that’s the case,” was her response. 

He turned around and offered a twitch of the lips.

Rather than return it, however, the agent shifted gears. 

“So, alternate dimensions. How...what does that even mean? What are we preparing ourselves for?”

“What do you know about alternate dimensions? Alternate worlds?” he asked.

“From what Strange has told me, they’re just variations on a theme, right?” she replied. “But what kind of alternate universe? One where typhoons attack people because someone stepped on a butterfly they weren’t supposed to?”

Quentin nearly scoffed at that. 

“It’s just an alternate timeline that coincides with the one you’re living right now,” Quentin explained. 

“And you had Thanos there, right? Did you also have...us?” 

“The Avengers? Not in the one I’m from,” he said before strolling away to throw away his own cup. When he returned, he continued.

“No, if we’d had you guys, we might have stood a chance.”

She was silent at his commented, but when she spoke again, he truly recognized the espionage she’d grown up with.

“So, where’s our help, then? Why didn’t Strange fly in and take care of it himself?”

Quentin raised his brows.

“You tell me,” he said. “As far as I can see, you’re the only one who has their eye on earth. Where are the other Avengers? Aren’t there more?”

Her expression became stony again. 

The two fell into silence for a while, and Quentin could practically hear how much the comment stung.

“I didn’t mean to hit a nerve,” he began to apologize, but she shook her head and cut him off. 

“No, it’s...it’s fine.”

“Where are they if you don’t mind me asking?”

They continued to walk in tandem, and she remained quiet for a moment. 

“After the second Snap, a lot of them went their own way. Some had families, others had...responsibilities.”

“And you didn’t?” he asked. She looked at him, confusion clouding her features.

“What do you mean?” 

Quentin shrugged at that before replying.

“Well, from what I understand, you’ve been there from the beginning, haven’t you?”

“I...I guess,” she admitted. 

“Why do they get to move on and you don’t?” Part of it bothered him, but he wanted it to bother her more.

“Who decides who leaves and who doesn’t?” he pressed.

When she spoke, she ignored the question. 

“What happened to your world?” she asked. 

“Something I’d like to prevent here.”

With that impasse, he shared her gaze, though his was considerably less defiant.

He was unsure of how to continue the conversation, and opted to continue strolling. From his side, he heard her clear her throat. He looked back at her with a furrowed brow.

She met his eyes again, before speaking up.

“Was it as bad as the Snap? What they did to your home?”

He fell into a thoughtful silence before replying.

“It was worse.”

“I’m sorry. That’s...I can’t imagine,” she said.

Quentin shrugged. 

“It seems like you do,” he said. He used her silence as a sign to continue. “Seems to me like Stark was a big part of the team,” he said.

Her lips twitched, and he thought he saw her bite her cheek. 

“So it fell from Stark’s shoulders to yours from what I gather,” he said carefully. She didn’t respond at first, choosing instead to merely walk side by side with him.

“So?” he asked with a lifted brow. She looked at him with exasperation.

“You don’t have more pressing responsibilities?” he continued. “But everyone else does?”

“What’s more pressing than making sure the world doesn’t collapse again?” she argued. She started to sound more and more annoyed.  

“Haven’t you done that?” he asked kindly. “Multiple times? Kind of sounds like it’s your responsibility alone.”

“Kind of sounds like you’re trying to get me to retire. Besides, it’s not just me doing it. I have help, you know.”

“If you say so.”

They fell into companionable silence once again, and Quentin wondered if his scheme was working. All he needed was for her to feel like this was her task, and he was more than convinced she would. But he would believe it when he saw it.

“Assuming you stay to keep an eye on the...what did you say? Elementals? Assuming you stay here long enough to take care of all of them, I may have to retire.”

He wondered if that was her attempt at humor.

“Is that your agenda?” he asked. 

“My what?” She asked.

“You said that everyone, everything has an agenda. Not only did I pressure you into a walk that you easily could have turned down, but I also interfered with your day.”

“And you came looking for me in my hotel,” she added.

“And, yeah, I did that. So, why did you come with?”

For the first time since they’d spoke, she said something that he thought might have been genuine.

“I just know that certain people would like to get to know you a little better.”

He shot her a charming smile. 

“Are you one of them?”

She rolled her eyes. 

“You flatter yourself, Beck.”

“Support is always appreciated, but...getting people involved isn’t something I do, unless absolutely necessary.”

“You needed me last night,” she pointed out.

He hid his smile.

“I did. But if I can help it, I’m not going to risk someone’s life. Not when they have so much more left to do.”

She looked puzzled for a moment.

“You say that like I didn’t ignore you yesterday.”

He had to say, her persistence was a welcome addition to their talk.

“You’re still so headstrong. Please don’t let that be your downfall,” he said. 

“Was that the point of this?” she asked. “You took me out for coffee and entertained me for an hour or so just to leave me with a warning?”

Quentin watched her with a false admiration.

“I’ve seen what happens when people close to me bite off more than they can chew. And I’ve already lost too many people because of my recklessness.”

She looked like she wanted to reply, but he spoke up before she could say anything.

“I’ll...I’ll get going. I’ve taken enough of your time.” 

With that, he strode away with his hands in his pockets, hopeful that he’d been successful.

✱✱✱

You watched as the man’s figure disappeared into the landscape; you waited a few silent moments as you considered all of what he said.

Should he be telling the truth, you were afraid of how much trouble that spelt for you and your world as he had put it. Would these things dominate your world as they did his? Or would you be enough to stop it? You knew that Fury was contemplating bringing Parker in, something you vehemently disagreed with. A teenager wasn’t something you wanted on your conscience should the mission fail. Then again, you weren’t sure who else could help you. Beck’s words bothered you. 

Who decides?

Well, you did. It was you who agreed to the mission. 

What if you had said no? Fury would have made you anyway. The responsibility was left with you.

You frowned at the thought. You supposed there was some truth to that. It’s not like Fury would have had anyone else help. You were one of the first Avengers. You were one of earth’s defenders and you’d be damned if it didn’t have that.

Whatever it takes.

You knew that it would likely never be enough, and yet you still marched forward. Still, Beck’s voice wouldn’t leave your mind.

You brought a finger up to your mouth and chewed anxiously at the nail bed. The vibrating in your pocket pulled you from your thoughts and you answered it before the second ring had finished.

“For someone who had their ass handed to them by a typhoon, you were pretty animated,” Maria said on the other end. You could practically hear her smirk. 

“Well, it helps that my company was easy on the eyes,” you countered.

“Alternate universe, huh?” Fury could be heard.

“Yeah, I guess we’ll see,” you said, wiping your face.

“A shame you couldn’t get the next location from him,” Hill added. 

“If the next ones are as easy to find as this one was, I don’t think we’ll have much trouble,” Fury countered. 

Your yawn didn’t go unnoticed.

“Get another coffee if needed,” Fury replied. “We’ve already scheduled your plane. You’re meeting us in London where we can rendezvous. I’d also like to get your back checked out by a professional before the next one comes. And you’ll need your blasters.”

“Aye-aye,” you said. “I’ll see you in London.”

“Copy,” Fury said as Hill said, “See you in three hours.”

The conversation ended as quickly as it had started, and you had a hard time pulling yourself together to leave.

An alternate fucking dimension.

@famdomizedtrash @whatamessofwords @actuallyivar @ghostprincess @qtmeryr @grelabonkai

[babygirlofwakanda]

A Time To Give Thanks | Chapter 2

PREVIOUS CHAPTER — Chapter One

CHARACTERS — Giselle X Chris Hemsworth

CONTENT — Thanksgiving Shenanigans, Family Ties, Soul Food, Tradition and Southern Hospitality

PLOT — The Hollywood couple and their children fly out to Giselle’s hometown for Thanksgiving this year.

NARRATIVE — The soul food filled the house; replacing the vanilla scent that once filled the house.

With silver trays of steaming collards green, sizzling turkey and corn brought by arriving family members the side dishes added to the lingering smell of food already in the house from the night before.

Downstairs checking on the glistening ham the barefaced beauty stepped back from the heated source before closing the oven. Taking her mittens off Giselle went onto stirring the mac & cheese but before she could, she was frantically waved over by her sister who stood by the drink table dumping a couple of ice cubes in the two dozen red cups.

Twisting her face up out of instinct the actress maneuvered through her aunties and uncles before she reached Iris, “What’chu want Iris? I’m busy girl.”

Cutting her chocolate eyes at her sister’s sly smirk and quirked eyebrow, “Hm, I know what your nasty ass doin’ last night.” She started, instantly making Giselle’s face scrunch up in confusion before she remembered why her vagina was aching today.

Instantly dropping her mouth as her eyes went wide, Giselle pinched her sister’s shoulder, “Iris! You need to keep your fuckin’ voice,” She said, as she looked around to see if anyone noticed her words, “—your voice down and stop ear hustlin’ on what does or doesn’t happen in my room.” Giselle sassed.

Jerking away from her oldest sister’s hold Iris rebutted, “Huh-uh don’t start that GiGi! You and Chris out’here makin’ all that damn noise at two in fuckin’ morning like my bedroom isn’t next door!”

Before either of them could even respond the siblings were interrupted by Chris strolling into the kitchen with two more bags of ice and Niel following behind with a few more boxes of cups. Squinting her eyes at her sister, Giselle greeted them, “—hey y’all!”

“Wassup G and Iris,” Niel smiled, “Hello.” The Aussie greeted, with a headnod at Iris and a wink at his wife.

“I see dad got y’all working today.” Iris chuckled, making the men sigh and stifled out a laugh. “You just don’t know big head,” Niel let out an exhausted laugh, before he wiped his forehead, “—but imma be right back. I’m gonna go check on Elianna.” He said, before side hugging his sisters and dapping up Chris.

“So, what time did my dad wake you up?” Giselle questioned, as she shifted towards her husband.

“Around eight-ish.”, “Aw, thats too bad. I had some plans for us to do before we got started with our day, but I guess that’ll have to wait for later.” The actress promised, making her brow quirk while her tone of voice softened; lingering in his ear and sadly, Iris’s.

Kissing her teeth, “Uh, do I need to leave the kitchen or what?” Iris questioned, with borderline annoyance inflected in her voice making the couple pull away.

After stepping back, Giselle sighed with a hand on her forehead while her husband excused himself and exited the kitchen leaving the annoyed Brown sisters.

Squinting her eyes at her Iris, Giselle scoffed and folded her arms. “Oo! Yall lovebirds make me sick!”

“Y’all were lucky mama and daddy’s room was down the hallway otherwise y’all two would be ass out in the street.” Iris cackled, with her head tossed back before she returned back to filling the cups.

With her eyebrow quirked Giselle instantly spat out her rebuttal, “Oh Iris, honey you don’t want to start with me, but since we airing shit out riddle me this.”

“Why exactly did you ask daddy for those batteries today hm? Lying and saying it was for your remote— when we both know it’s for a certain remote alright.”

Folding her arms as her hip poked out, Giselle hummed out as Iris failed to respond leaving her stumbling over her words. “That’s what I thought.”

“So, you what was that bout’ me and Chris again?”

——————————

“—you made me happy, this you can bet. You stood right beside me— yeah and I’ll never forget..”

Synchronized dancing and collective singing ranged out of the kitchen and echoed through the rest of the house as Frankie Beverly and Maze’s Before I Let Go played from the speakers. Struggling to squeeze past eachother to put whatever dish they wanted on their plates; the Brown and Hemsworth family crowded the space as they broke up the single-file line.

“What’chu want on your plate baby?”, “Uhh I want that and ham!” Giselle saw Amelia point to the ham and the platter of Devil’s eggs. After putting the food on her plate Giselle went onto making Sienna’s plate before she did her own. Glancing over at Chris while she scooped some green beans on her plate Giselle watched her husband struggle to make his plate.

“Y’know maybe it’ll help if you put her down.”

“Aht! Don’t worry about what we doing, Mia tell auntie to quit worrying about us.” Chris kissed his teeth while Mia drooled and bobbed her fist around before he walked towards the drinks. With her eyes still on Chris, she twisted her mouth around as she saw how her husband has interacted with Mia.

Catching her husband mumble a few words to her niece, Giselle watched Mia’s heavy head drop within seconds before she reached up and gripped Chris’s neckline as she fought from closing her heavy eyes.

Melting at the sight Giselle found herself questioning her decision to hold off on having another baby once more. Exhaling, the actress took her eyes off the two only to glance down at her three brown babies for a second; could she really handle another one?

After she finished making the children’s and her plates Giselle left her kids sitting with their second cousins before she walked outside and sat down at the outside dining table. Settling down next to Chris who still managed to eat his food while keeping Mia close to his chest while responding to her cousin, Kj.

“Aye! Quit naggin’ him Kj! We didn’t come down here to breakdown every Marvel movie.” Giselle rebutted, making her cousin smack his lips while Chris stifled out a laugh. “—and that goes for the rest of y’all.”

“We just wanna know what happens to Thor!”

After finishing their food and feeding baby Mia, the couple’s rest of the evening was spent separated.

With Chris being pulled away by her cousins and siblings, he stayed outside with the men of her family who were laughing and sharing a case of Heineken’s.

Meanwhile, Giselle sat at the kitchen table chatting with her female cousins and younger sister. Gulping down the burgundy beverage the actress laughed at her cousin, “—then Marcus had the audacity to start that ‘I’m tired’ bullshit like man ion’ wanna hear that shit after I’ve been working all day, saddle up nigga!”

“I’m tired of that mothafucka holding out on me then he called himself tryna edge me and shit— I almost choked him when I was able to stand on my feet.”

“I swear I can’t stand that fine ass nigga. Just look at him outside laughing like shit is so sweet; ah hee hee haa haa ass nigga.” Giselle’s cousin, Rachel mocked, before kissing her teeth and throwing her wine back.

Tossing her head back at her cousin’s story Giselle went to bring her glass of Chardonnay to her mouth when suddenly a bitter fluid entered her mouth and began to puddle over her tastebuds. Wincing at the vile taste the actress closed her mouth and harshly swallowed before she started for her glass again.

—but her body had other plans, before Giselle could even lift her hand up by an inch she abruptly tasted the sour fluid back in her mouth followed by the sudden thrust of her food beginning to retrace.

Immediately throwing a hand over her mouth the actress slammed down her wine glass and stood up; spilling and staining the alcohol on the table while her chair screeched from her brisk moves.

Quickly gaining the attention of her family members, “GiGi is everything fine? Sweetheart, you’re looking a little gre—,” before her sister could finish getting her question out Giselle ran to the nearest bathroom.

Reaching the powder room the nauseous woman didn’t even get the chance to turn on the light before she fell to her knees, cradled the toilet and started to release the chunks from her mouth. With the plops of her contents splashing into the water while she threw up, Giselle missed the heavy footsteps coming down the hall before she felt a warm palm on her back.

Heaving against the toilet Giselle fluttered her eyes open and caught her husband kneeling down beside her side while combing her hair into a loose ponytail.

—and right behind Chris stood her mama searching for a washcloth to clean her baby’s face afterward.

“Baby! Giselle are you ok? Look at me.” Beginning to turn her head Giselle felt her stomach jolt and before she knew it she was hunched over the toilet again.

“—shit!” Chris hissed, while he caressed his wife’s back and waited until Giselle was done throwing up.

Hearing Giselle groan as he propped her body up against the wall, Chris moved fast as he flushed the toilet before he grabbed the wet cloth Mama Janice was pushing towards him. Holding her face with his left hand Chris wiped Giselle’s mouth with the other before he folded the cloth and dapped it across her face. “Do you feel better babe? Do you feel like you have to go again baby?” Chris questioned, voice slightly shaking as he stared into her dim eyes.

Watching her head slowly move side to side, the Australian nodded before he helped his wife to her feet only for her knees to starting buckling causing Chris to move on his feet and swiftly pick Giselle up.

“Oh, God!” Mama Janice rasped, as she stared at her oldest daughter before moving to open the door.

“Thanks mama. Hey, uh— can you bring me a can of ginger ale and some of those saltine crackers? Imma go ahead and take Giselle upstairs,” Chris requested.

“Yes, of course honey. Now gon’ and take my baby to her room, I’ll be up there soon.” Mama Janice sassed, before she shooed her son-in-law out the confined space and dismissed the lingering relatives.

Entering the hallway Chris headed towards the staircase when a voice called out to him, “Daddy! Is mommy gonna be okay?” before footsteps followed.

Immediately spotting a confused, but somewhat distressed Amelia coming closer, “Hey! Mommy is gonna be alright yea? She’s just a little sick okay, so why don’t you go with—um,” Chris paused, while he looked up and spotted Iris. “—come with me, baby.”

“Let’s go see what your siblings and cousins are doin’ in the kitchen huh? You feel like coloring Lia’?” Chris heard Iris question, while she walked Amelia away.

Sighing, Chris went on and took Giselle upstairs and got her tucked into the bed. After persuading his wife to sip on the ginger ale, Chris watched Giselle sleep for a minute before he placed a kiss on her forehead and headed out of the bedroom; letting Giselle be.

——————————

A daze greeted Giselle as she stirred awake before a yawn rippled her features. Curling up before pushing her arms out the brown beauty slowly propped up on her forearm and blinked while she looked around the bedroom. Noticing the can of ginger ale and pack of saltines, Giselle recalled what happened earlier.

Instantly tasting the bitter residue from earlier she frowned before sitting up, swinging her legs around the bed to brush her teeth. After freshening up for a minute, she reached the bottom of the staircase and went to look for her husband. Following the laughs, Giselle walked into the kitchen and quickly spotted Chris; standing in a corner laughing with Quinton.

Sliding past her family members Giselle reached Chris, “—uh, baby..” She whined, as she playfully nudged her younger brother aside to hug her man.

“Aye!”, “You feeling better baby, hm?” The Aussie asked, before he leaned back and held her face up with his palms on the sides of face. “Much better.”

“Plus, your color came back; you’re not as green.”

Nodding her head, Giselle exhaled before she pouted her lips and blinked up at her husband.

Without a second thought, Giselle felt Chris’s damp lips on hers, “Ugh! Can y’all cut that shit out. Now, I know what Iris was talking bout’— shit that might be why your sick GiGi.” Giselle heard Quinton complain.

Quickly freezing, the couple stared at eachother and let a wave of silence pass by before they busted out laughing, “Puh-lease!” Giselle giggled, before she placed her head back onto Chris’s heated chest.

Little did the couple know that Giselle’s younger siblings were onto something life-changing.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This was just a quick little wrap up! More Chris and Giselle is coming in a couple of days. Anyways, thanks for reading and supporting!

TAGLIST — @wakandas-vibranium @oceanscorazon @melaninmarvel @wakandamama @storibambino @chaneajoyyy @ashanti-notthesinger @lewatigress @wakanda-inspired @blowmymbackout @theblulife @kreolemami @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @lildashofmelanin @iamrheaspeaks @ororowrites @kumkaniudaku @theunsweetenedtruth @s0eul @klaylakayblack @shortstacks-blog @destinio1

[kinetic-elaboration]

July 30: 1x08 Miri

Today’s TOS episode: Miri. This was one of the first eps I ever saw. It’s definitely a classic but upon rewatching, I am left with many questions. (And given current events, much unease....)

Another Earth! What!!! How strange! I’m sure everyone actually recognized it by just looking out the window, but I like the implication that they recognized Earth’s measurements when Spock listed them off.

Uhura and Sulu have the day off I see.

They seem to be landing somewhere in Western Canada?

McCoy’s hatred for 60s architecture lol.

How convenient that it looks like 1960s Earth.

Spock’s reaction to the tricycle is so hilarious to me. “What do I do with this... this TOY??” And McCoy is so careful with it, so gentle.

Don’t even say the word ‘plague’ around me.

Kirk legit doesn’t know how to interact with people without being charming. Like I’m sure he doesn’t approach Miri intending to flirt with her; she’s a child. But his aura is just so naturally flirty, that’s how it comes off. (And then of course when he sees it can be used tactically, he turns it up.) This is where the womanizer trope comes from but imo it is quite obviously just How He Is, and I really think he thinks it’s just like Platonic Charm.

Spock hearing the taunting children: has flashbacks to Vulcan

Oh those scurrying children.

“That’s a bad place.” Mm, underrated line. Of course the children would see the epicenter of the plague as cursed.

Jim enforces social distancing rules by not letting anyone else leave the ship.

I love seeing snarky Spock.

Life prolongation... honestly forgot that’s the background of this ep lol. That’s so disturbing.

Calling McCoy old lol Excuse YOU.

“She likes you, Jim.” And Kirk just being oblivious.

Spock trying to figure out where babies come from.

Jim, flirting with an older woman lol.

Spock really hates Yeoman Rand huh? His jealousy is so obvious; tone it down, Sir. “Almost 300 years older than you, Yeoman. Think about it.”

Those little tasks Jim gives Miri oml. She’s so heart eyed over him, but it’s so... like she’s looking for a father, too. That’s the other thing he’s playing off.

“And I do want to go back to the ship, Captain.” I have seen this scene so many times and I STILL don’t get how this exchange can seem so sexual? There is literally nothing in these words that requires the amount of flirt-voice and long, intense stares they’re giving here. Both of them, but Spock starts it, and I’m just like??? You don’t need to be this way but you are.

Wow, who would have ever thought creating a chain reaction of viruses would go so badly!

“Is that all Captain? We do have five days, you know.”

Come on guys, never leave your cell phones sitting out unattended! Amateur hour here.

They certainly had a ton of food on this planet, if they’re only now running out after 300 years!

Janice, taking the short cut to getting Kirk to look at her legs. By just telling him to look at her legs.

His attempt at comforting her lol--pat pat pat.

Spock brings out the first name again. “Jim.”

It could be a beaker full of death!

Everything about this virus story is so much scarier now.

“You’re being a very bad citizen.” I’m so curious what this society was like when it was... an actual society. They keep playing make believe games, like kids do when they practice becoming adults, but what were the adults like?

NO BLAH BLAH BLAH.

Those uniform shirts sure do tear easily.

Good Spones content here. Headcanon that Spock was communicating telepathically with McCoy and that’s why he’s holding his hands for so long. He’s just so careful, how he arranges them, and then he just holds them.

“I never will understand the medical mind.”

They’ll have to send truant officers lol.

Jim’s such a liar--you know he’s definitely gotten involved with older women.

Also the way he diffuses any awkward moment with Rand and then starts talking to Spock again. “Older women, no; older men, older aliens... I’m open to it.”

So I have a lot of questions now.

First, what happened to the rest of the planet? It’s the same size as Earth and with Earth-like conditions so one assumes it could support an Earth-sized population. Did everyone, adults and children, die everywhere else but this one city? Did the virus not travel world wide, and the rest of the planet is fine? (In which case...they’re just not gonna help out at all, I guess? Was Miri’s town quarantined? Did everyone just choose to pretend they don’t exist?) Are there other enclaves of children, without adults, all over the place? And in 300 years, they haven’t found each other at all? Did the other locations die out completely for lack of resources, like food?

And if so, (or even if not) why does Miri’s town have so much food? Mom suggested that the scientists there were doing other genetic modification projects, and that’s how they ended up with so much food that doesn’t spoil, and that this led them into other experiments manipulating life span, growth, etc. This would explain why the Enterprise just happens to beam down to the origin point of the virus, too. Only the epicenter survived, because of other experiments conducted by the same people.

On a related note to the worldwide spread question--their technology is really weird. Everything’s basically 1960s--the microscope, the lack of computers, or phones, the handwritten files--but they have a very good radio, still sending an automated sos after 300 years, plus of course the virus experiments themselves. So what’s their travel tech like? Even if it’s on par with the 60s though, global travel was fairly easy then, just like now (uh airplanes) and this virus is obviously VERY contagious. I think we understand pretty well how fast contagious viruses can get literally everywhere. I can’t believe this one didn’t spread to other parts of the globe.

On a related note to the food experiments, perhaps they were inspired to experiment with prolonging life because they were doing so well--if not on a global scale, at least a community scale. They had all this food, they weren’t fighting scarcity... why not live longer and enjoy that longer?

My next question is if the children will age normally now that they’ve been given the cure. My mom pointed out that in fact, we don’t know what there old life span was, even.

I kind of wish they hadn’t made this an alternate Earth situation because I don’t really see how that adds to the story. It sets you up to think you’ll be hearing about how an alternate Earth exists but you never do. It seems to be included as an excuse to use the Mayberry sets and avoid coming up with alien technology and costumes and such. But it brings up so many other questions that are unanswered, including but not limited to, how human are these aliens?

My mom also pointed out that ‘alternate Earth’ allows McCoy to use the old notes to create the cure, which then works on both the humans and, it’s implied, Miri and her people. But that seems like a big assumption!

Another thing about this ep is the vocabulary. Like first that was not a vaccine, it’s a cure--there still is no vaccine and that disease is still out there. They also mention that Miri and the older kids are “contracting” the disease at puberty--they’re not. I think they’ve had it the whole time and it only becomes active at puberty. Either that, or the virus has a SUPER long lifespan on surfaces, such that it’s still out there and transmittable after 300 years.

Also, I don't think it's weird that Miri didn't realize she'd get it and die. If the scientists were successful, she's literally only aged 3 months in all the time since the grownups died. She's been her current age for so much longer than any previous age, she's basically been--idk like 14??--her whole life. She doesn't perceive aging as a thing. None of them do. It's actually more surprising to me that so many of them are on the cusp of getting the disease and that McCoy is able to calculate so specifically when she's likely to die.

Anyway, that is a lot! Dagger of the Mind is next, which I like... decently remember?

[brittle-bone-gabe]

The Forgotten: Chapter Four- But What If?

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Chapter Eight, Chapter Nine, Chapter Ten, Chapter Eleven, Chapter Twelve, Chapter Thirteen, Chapter Fourteen, Chapter Fifteen, Chapter Sixteen, Chapter Seventeen, Chapter Eighteen, Chapter Nineteen, Chapter Twenty, Epilogue

Summary: Barry Berkman couldn’t remember much of his childhood; he knew he used to live in Derry, Maine, but that was about it, besides being taken by his “Uncle Fuches” at age 16 to move to Cleveland, Ohio. Eddie Kaspbrak moved from Derry, Maine to LA, becoming a police officer, surprisingly enough. Normally things were quiet for the most part, besides the occasional drug busts, but it’s when someone named Barry Block enters his line of sight as a possible suspect for the recent string of murders he has to push the feeling of remembrance to investigate.   Pairing: Adult Reddie  (Richie x Eddie) Or, technically, Barry x Eddie Read on Ao3: Here

After finding out that Barry was, in fact, being followed by an unknown person in an unknown car, he couldn’t take any more chances. On the way back to the hotel he was taking the back way, with many turns, took almost thirty-minutes longer, and overall was a pain in the ass. However, if that’s what Barry had to do to be kept from being followed then he’d do it over and over again. The entire time to keep from picking at his skin, he kept drumming his steering wheel, trying to focus on anything but that. Well… it seemed like he wasn’t being followed at this point, so maybe it was time to head back to the hotel; he was starting to feel exhausted anyways. With all the anxiety attacks and dissociation, of course he had the right to feel tired. He felt embarrassed about what happened in class tonight anyways, so isolating completely until the next classes sounded like the perfect plan for him. 

Once he got back to the hotel, Barry was standing in front of the elevator, not yet having pressed a button. He swallowed hard as he was looking at all the floor options, but couldn’t bring himself to press on for some reason. I’ll be followed, I’ll be followed, I’ll be- He snapped out of it quickly when he heard the elevator beep, indicating that someone was on their way down. Eyes wide, Barry backed off quickly, heading to the stairwell to go up to the third floor of the hotel, constantly checking over his shoulder as he did.

There wasn’t a reason he should’ve been so panicked, right? Hell, he wasn’t even this anxious when he killed Janice. Just the fact that he kept the cop alive, that there was that slim chance that he couldn’t be out there again trying to find him sent Barry crazy. He couldn’t wait to tell Fuches what was bothering him this time, just so he could get slapped and told that he was overreacting, to just calm the fuck down and it’ll all go away. Hopefully… 

He opened the door to the hotel room, all the lights were off, meaning that Fuches wasn’t in the room. Barry couldn’t think of where he could’ve run off too; he only went to the diner down the street, or once in a while he would go out personally to talk to a new contract. Whatever it was he was up to, Barry was hoping that it didn’t involve him in any way. The last job was exactly that… the last job. 

From his back pocket, Barry could feel his phone vibrating. He was hoping that it was Fuches, explaining what he was up to, but it was Sally. 

You okay?  U seem upset :( 

Barry sighed, throwing his phone on his pull out bed, which he could not be happier to see. He plopped down, hearing the springs settle from underneath him, putting his face in his hands as he let out a sigh. His heart was still pounding against his chest like he was in the middle of a gun fight, he needed to ground himself somehow. Who was Barry kidding? He didn’t have the coping skills to deal with this; he wanted to throw things, break things, release this anger somehow. 

“I’m gonna have to kill him,” Barry mumbled to himself almost as if on autopilot, like he didn’t know what he was saying. “No, don’t do that…” he smacked his closed fist hard against his head trying to get rid of those thoughts. “You had your chance, you let him live, you can’t take that back now.” 

Barry looked over to his right, seeing his laptop that was sitting with the screen half way closed. He couldn’t help himself when he grabbed it, opening his history and going back to Eddie’s Facebook profile. He couldn’t stop thinking about this; yeah, that was certainly the cop he let live, there was no doubt about that. Barry must’ve known him from Maine, even though he didn’t remember much of the place he knew him somehow. Something in Barry’s brain was trying to break free; memories, a bunch of memories were trying to escape being locked up after all these years. There was a lot Barry couldn’t exactly remember and it drove him fucking crazy, like something was trapped under his skin and he needed to rip it out. 

Eddie Kaspbrak. The name filled Barry with happiness, like he knew him from long ago. A long lost friend maybe? Barry smacked his forehead a couple of times, trying to get himself to think harder about this. Nothing was exactly coming to mind, pushing Barry into further frustrating. 

Suddenly, Barry slammed the laptop shut, putting it on the floor as he began breathing heavily. Fuck. He needed someone to talk to. Now. 

He grabbed his phone, calling Fuches, praying that he picks up. 

“Barry!” Fuches answered, sounding happy yet drunk at the same time. Must’ve been at the bar. 

“Fuches…” Barry said, trying to keep his voice from shaking more than it already was. 

“What’s the matter, son? You okay?” He asked, and Barry couldn’t tell if he really cared or was just drunk so it seemed like he cared. 

“I’m fine… I just… You know how I lived in Maine?” 

Fuches was silent for a moment, trying to understand what he was talking about. Oh. Right. “Huh?” 

“Maine. I lived in Derry and we moved the Ohio.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Barry. We lived in Ohio,” he obviously lied through his teeth. 

“No… no, I know where I grew up, Fuches. Derry, Maine. That’s… all I remember though. It’s like… a mental block. I don’t remember where I went to school, I don’t remember my parents or home life, shit, I don’t even know if I had friends.”

“Ooooh…” Fuches said, panicking before taking a quick shot. He was getting his lies tangled and needed to play along now. “Right. Derry. That place was so small I almost forgot about it.” How could he tell Barry that his father moved him and his wife to that town because it was so small and nobody could find him there? He wouldn’t. “Right. I took you to Ohio when you were sixteen, remember?” 

“I mean… yeah, but-” 

“I don’t have any answers for you, Barry. I took you out of there when your parents left.”

Barry opened his mouth to ask more questions, but Fuches had hung up on him almost immediately. Well, that left Barry with more questions than answers, and he was feeling more upset than he did before calling Fuches. Thanks. He grabbed his laptop again, typing in Derry, Maine in the Facebook search bar, hoping to find other people who may have lived there that maybe he could recognize. 

Only a small handful of people showed up in the search area, none of which Barry recognized based on faces and names. Barry was better at knowing faces than names anyways, but this wasn’t at all helpful. Well… there was one he possibly recognized. A woman with red hair named Beverly Hanscom. She was pretty, someone Barry felt like he also remembered. 

Fuck. Barry didn’t know what the fuck was going on anymore, he was in an endless loop of what if’s and it was driving him insane. 

                                                       -----

Driving up and down the dark roads only being covered by street lamps was making Eddie grumpy and antsy. How could he have lost their car so easily? It was a crappy old beat up car that would’ve been easy to spot. He had no idea who was driving it, but based on how the tall man was acting outside noticing Eddie’s car it made him suspicious. Yeah, he noticed how often this guy was looking around his mirrors in his car, getting out the moment he saw Eddie’s car and was trying to hide his face from him. All of that jumped out as suspicious, right? Or maybe the need to catch the guy who shot him and most likely Janice was getting the better of Eddie. 

Shaking his head, Eddie turned his unmarked car around, heading back to the theater. There was only car left in the parking lot, hopefully it was Gene Cousineau hanging behind. That’s who Eddie really needed to talk to right now. He put on the necklace he carried around with his police badge, he only used it when he was wearing civilian clothes but needed to do police work on the side. 

When Eddie stepped out of the car he checked his surroundings, making sure nobody was going to ambush him as he limped his way to the theater. That was the last thing he needed. He wasn’t carrying his gun and would be defenseless if anyone tried anything. 

The theater was dark when he entered, only the lights up by the main stage were on and the lights in the nearby hallway. Eddie looked around before making his way down the hallway, he didn’t see anyone yet. 

“Gene Cousineau?” He called out, hoping to get a response. There was some fumbling around on the second door on the right, so that’s where Eddie headed to. He stood in the doorway, seeing an older man he recognized from the pictures of the possible suspects back at the station. The man that Mae had swore was innocent. “Gene?” He asked again. 

“Interested in the class?” was the only thing the older man said, standing up from his chair at his desk. “First class is free then you gotta pay upfront,” he continued as he picked up the picture frame that tumbled to the floor. 

“Oh, no, I’m not… I’m Officer Kaspbrak,” he held up his necklace badge to the older man who looked at it with a confused expression. “I was hoping we could talk about Janice Moss. It won’t take long, I promise.” Gene didn’t say anything, he only gestured to the seat that was in front of his desk, both taking a seat. “Firstly, I want to apologize if I… bring up any old feelings,” Eddie started, pulling out a small notepad and pen from his front t-shirt pocket. “But I need to know what happened the night you last saw her.” Eddie noticed the picture frame that Gene was putting back on his desk was a picture of him and Janice, both in formal wear with huge smiles on their faces. Aw, that’s sweet. 

“Well… we were up at my cabin with two of my students; Sally Reed and Barry Block,” as he was talking Eddie was scribbling down notes, 

“Why were you guys up there?” 

“Well, I was bringing Janice and thought since Sally and Barry were together at the time they’d like to come join us.” 

“Okay,” Eddie pulled the folded up pictures that were sticking out of his back pocket, “I need a visual,” he started, handing the pictures over to Gene, “which one is Sally and Barry?” Yeah, the pictures had their names on the back, but Eddie needed to be sure who was who here. The first picture was of the pretty woman with blonde hair and green eyes, the other one who Eddie had expected to be Barry Block. Great. “So they’re dating?” He asked, turning the pictures over so he could see them.

“Well…” Gene shrugged a little, “off and on again. An odd chemistry between them.” 

Eddie bit his bottom lip, trying to think of anymore questions he may have had. Nothing was coming to mind at the moment, so that should be it for now. 

“Mr. Cousineau, I just want to thank you for your time and cooperation. I’ll come back if I have anymore questions, but if you have anything else for me…” he dug through his shirt pocket again, pulling out his card. “Feel free to give me a call.” 

“Wait,” Gene said as they both stood up, holding the card in his hands, “why are you opening this case up again? And why my class of all people? None of them could hurt a fly- well… besides Ryan who apparently could’ve, I suppose.”

 Eddie put a hand on his leg as it suddenly started to ache. “I think I may have discovered some connections between the case,” he started, “I feel like the same person who killed Ryan also killed Janice and…” he paused a moment, starting to feel emotional himself. “Janice was my best friend, y’know?” Eddie was doing his best to not cry in front of Gene. He was a police officer, he needed to keep his emotions in check. “I just need to make sure the right people are getting punished for the crime.” 

Gene held out his hand to Eddie, who looked at it before looking up at the shorter man.

“Thank you,” Gene said with a sad smile on his face as Eddie shook his hand. “Thank you for reopening the case. I haven’t been able to sleep at night because I just know it was never properly solved. Oh! Here!” He moved to his coat that was on the back of his office chair. He pulled out a key, dropping it in Eddie’s hand. “That’s the key to my cabin if you need it to look around.” 

“Thank you, this’ll be helpful. Have a goodnight, Mr. Cousineau.” 

“Stay safe, Officer.” 

The moment Eddie turned to leave the office tears were silently falling down his face. He waited until he was walking down the hallway to wipe them off. Keep it together, save the emotions for later, he thought to himself as he went back out to his car. 

[maximoff-pan]

The One with the Drunken Confession (Chandler Bing x Reader)

Request: Can you do one with chandler and its based off with ross, Rachel, and the drunk phone call?

Character: Chandler Bing

Fandom: Friends

Word Count: 3879 (woah, that’s loooong for me....oops)

A/n: So this is based off of season 2 episode 7 but with Chandler and the reader and the majority of it doesn’t follow how Rachel and Ross got together other than drunk phone call portion. I’m sorry that this took so long, but I hope you like it!! There also may be some grammar mistakes because I didn’t have a ton of time to edit this!

“Chandler!” Phoebe exclaimed. “Don’t look!”

Of course this exclamation only caused Chandler to raise his head from his New York Times newspaper, to see you and your boyfriend kissing outside Central Perk’s window.

“Great going Pheebs.”

Chandler immediately shook his head placing his paper onto the table to face the group. “No no no no no guys, I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m so cool with it that I don’t even feel anything at all. No jealously, no regret, nothing.”

“Chandler. You don’t have to pretend in front of us.” Monica placed her hand on his shoulder. She’d felt terrible after she’d found out you’d started dating another guy. You’d spent months telling her how hard you’d fallen for the sarcastic, lanky friend of yours that she’d convinced Chandler to tell you how he felt….only he’d realized it too late.

“I’m not pretending. I’m just deflecting.” Chandler meant for it to come out as a joke, but no one laughed, because to them, it wasn’t a joke. It felt like any time you or Chandler would get the courage to tell the each other how you felt, something got in the way. This time it happened to be your boyfriend Jack.

Jack was a nice guy (who Phoebe also claimed was incredibly hot, and no one in the group, including Ross, Joey, and even Chandler could deny her that), which meant that all your friends hated to admit how great he seemed because each of them knew how perfect you and Chandler would be together.

“Chandler honey, it might be good for you to go on a date,” Rachel continued almost worried she’d over stepped her boundaries by suggesting it, “you know, find a distraction to take your mind off of her. I know how hard this is for you, believe me.”

Chandler shook his head. “Thanks guys, but I don’t think I’m quite ready for that. Unlike Joey, it doesn’t take me less than five minutes to get over the woman I’m in love with.”

That caused Joey’s head to snap towards his best friend. “Just because you’re upset you didn’t have the balls to tell (Y/n) how you feel doesn’t mean you get to question how long it takes me to get over a woman. I am a gentleman.”

The door to the coffee shop opened and Chandler watched as you walked in, arm linked to Jack, feeling his heart drop. Suddenly, Chandler didn’t care that Joey had snapped at him, and now all he could focus on was you. Joey took the opportunity to nudge Ross’ arm and discreetly whisper on the verge of laughing, “No he’s definitely right, I am an asshole.”

Ross didn’t laugh at his friends comment. “Quit being such a child Joey. Chandler’s really broken up about this.”

Ross and Joey turned to get a glance at the scene before them. While they knew you wouldn’t notice, they could tell by the way he was looking at you as you walked into the coffee shop, that he wasn’t joking when he said he was in love with you.

“Hey guys.” You spoke cheerfully, taking a seat on the couch, as Rachel and Monica made room for you and Jack. They all had either replied with a hello in return or a simple nod, except for Chandler, who couldn’t seem to muster either.

“What have you two been up to?” Monica asked, trying to keep the conversation flowing. Any time Jack hung out around the group, they never knew what to do. It was hard for them to be supportive of your relationship when they knew how much it was hurting Chandler, and how much they knew you felt the same way as him.

“Jack took me to visit his grandma Jean.” You smiled at your boyfriend lovingly. “It was really great getting to meet her.”

Chandler’s heart sunk even further. When had your relationship gotten so serious? The last time you’d said anything to him, you hadn’t even met Jack’s parents, but maybe things had changed. Meeting the family, is a huge step, isn’t it? Chandler had never been good at relationships or commitment, and to be honest, you are the only person Chandler could ever think of him taking to meet his parents. Besides, you’d already met his parents and you hadn’t run out on him like everyone else did. And that meant something to him, but that also meant, if your relationship with Jack worked out, it would take him an exponentially long time to ever get over you.

He felt utterly stupid knowing that at one point, you had felt the same way. You were the best of friends. That’s all Chandler ever thought you felt about him. And for some reason, as hard as he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to be happy for you, even though that’s what he desperately wanted. Monica had told him that you’d had feelings for him for a few years now and to be quite honest, that only made him feel worse. You’d said nothing when he was with Janice...and he and Janice had been off and on, and somewhat serious. God, if you had felt half as heart broken as the way he was feeling in this moment, he wouldn’t know what he’d do. How did you get through it? It wasn’t like he could ask you.

///////

The night was only getting started for Chandler. He had the apartment to himself, Joey on a date with God knows who, and enough beer (and maybe something a touch stronger) to help him forget all about the pain he felt.

It only took him about an hour, a couple beers (and some vodka) before he was feeling more than tipsy. If he thought getting drunk would help him forget about you, he was sorely mistaken. It only intensified his loneliness.

Sitting on the floor with the duck and the rooster, he half smiled. “You know what? You’re right! I should call her.” He nodded his head as the duck walked aimlessly around the apartment. “I-I just need to....to...tell her I’m over her. Yeah,” he pointed towards the wall, beer in hand, “I am over you.”

Picking up the phone, he dialed your number, only to get your voicemail. Deciding he wanted to leave a message, he waited for the sound of your voice, letting him know that this was your voicemail box, your sweet and cheery tone, causing him to smile, only for a moment, to be interrupted by that ever-so-annoying beep.

“Hi (Y/n). It’s Chandler, your best friend in the entire universe.” His tone dropped at the word friend, feeling how wrong it felt to say. He felt the need to mention how much being only your friend, was hurting him. “Because we’re not a couple....you know? Even though I really wanted to be.” His voice let out a dejected squeak that he wasn’t intending on, but it really didn’t seem to bother him. His mind was whirling with all he wanted to say to you that he knew he couldn’t face to face.

“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that whatever feelings I had for you, I’m getting over them. I am over you. Utterly and undeniably over you, so you don’t have to worry.” He chuckled, the knot in his chest tightening. “Oh and I’m happy for you. So so so happy. You and Jack make an amazing couple....I just always saw us being together one way or another.” At this point, Chandler knew he was rambling, but he really wanted to get his message across, despite it being a lie. He was hardly getting past the fact that you’d never be together.

“I know we’re constantly dancing around each other. It’s kind of a funny story.” He let out a sad laugh as he heard it pierce out of his throat. “Monica, she told me how you felt about me. And I’m really sorry you had to do that....watch me with Janice I mean. I know how hard it is to have to watch the person you’re madly in love with, be with someone else. Anyway,” he trailed off, “I won’t make this message any longer than it has to be. I should have told you how I felt, and I’m sorry.”

Chandler hung up the phone and maybe it was because he was drunk, it didn’t quite seem to sink in with him just how he’d ended the message.

“I’m going to regret that in the morning, aren’t I?” His slurred words were directed at the rooster and the duck, but they didn’t seem to be listening to what he had to say. Chandler, still decently drunk, followed behind them as they waddled into his room, somehow, Chandler taking that as their response to his question. “I agree. I definitely am.”

/////

“Shit.” He felt like screaming. “Dammit. I don’t....I don’t know.” He paced for a moment before rubbing his temples in anger and exhaustion. “Why would I do that?” Chandler began to panic, remembering what he’d said in the message he’d left for you.

You’d probably be at Monica’s place and hopefully for his sake, you hadn’t checked your messages yet.

/////

“Hey!” You greeted Chandler as he briskly walked into the apartment. “How was your night?”

“It was okay.” That was a total and utter lie, but what was he supposed to say?

“You think Monica would mind if I checked my messages here? I didn’t have time to last night but my boss said he was going to leave a message for me about an upcoming client.”

Ah yes. With you being a lawyer, Chandler knew all about your boss and your clients, considering that when you needed to complain about work, he always listened. (And vice versa).

His long voicemail to you slipped his mind, and he found himself nodding. "I don’t think Monica would even notice.” He gave you a smile, but almost as soon as it was on his face, it had dropped. Shit. What had he done?

You grinned at him, pressing the button on the machine to play your messages, the first one from your boss. As the voicemail came to an end, Chandler knew what was coming and raced towards the machine, hearing his voice begin to emit from it.

“Hi (Y/n). It’s Chandler, your best friend in the entire universe.”

“No no no. You do not need to hear this!” Chandler tried to turn it off before you stepped in front of him.

"Why?" You asked. "I'm sure it's harmless. Besides, I love the messages you leave me."

"Not this one." He grimaced. "I was drunk and it was really stupid."

“If you were drunk then I definitely need to hear this.”

You meant for it to come across as a joke but Chandler wasn’t laughing, and all you could see was fear in his eyes. While you two had been speaking (Chandler trying to get you to not listen to the message, and you insisting that you wanted to hear it) you’d missed a small part of it.

“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that whatever feelings I had for you, I’m getting over them. I am over you.”

It was Chandler’s voice, clear as day, but it almost didn’t seem real. It wasn't like any of the other voicemails he'd ever left you and the words he spoke surprised you. You were listening to the voicemail so intently that you hadn’t noticed him anxiously move towards the door in shame.

“I know how hard it is to have to watch the person you’re madly in love with, be with someone else.”

This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be, not for a number of reasons, the main one being that Chandler had never been in love with you. Ever. It just didn’t make any sense.

“I won’t make this message any longer than it has to be. I should have told you how I felt, and I’m sorry.”

The machine clicked. All of your new messages had been played. You turned to Chandler, seeing how scared he looked. “You’re over me? What the hell is that supposed to mean. When were you ever into me?”

Chandler couldn’t even look at you. He was too afraid, and judging by your tone, you weren’t too happy with him either. (Not that he didn’t think he deserved it). “I’m sorry. It was a stupid thing to do. I was just really really drunk and I didn’t realize I’d done it until this morning.”

You felt angry, and hurt. Why hadn’t he told you sooner, before you’d gotten into a relationship with Jack. This man....He'd broken your heart more than once, and now he accidentally proclaims his love for you, just as soon as you're in a stable, healthy relationship. You had left him alone. When he was with Janice, and you saw that it could've been something serious, you hid your pain and you let him be happy, despite Monica, Phoebe, and Rachel telling you otherwise. All these emotions that had died down were now resurfacing. It had taken you months, possibly even years to get over Chandler, and now once you thought you had, he pulls a fast one on you and rips the ground right from your feet.

“You know what Chandler? I don’t think I can deal with this right now and I sure as hell don’t think I deserve to have to deal with this right now.”

The door opens as Monica, Rachel, Ross, and Joey walk into the apartment, only to see tears on your face, and Chandler absolutely distraught. Pushing past your friends, you walk out the door, directing your words at Chandler, ignoring the look Monica gives you, “Don’t follow me. I need some time.”

/////

“God Chandler. What the hell happened?” Joey asks incredulously, each member of the group sitting on the couch, ears ready to listen.

“I did something that I shouldn’t have. I said some things that (Y/n) really didn’t deserve to hear right now, and I just hope I haven’t screwed everything up.”

Monica gives him one of her all-knowing looks. “I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad.”

“Monica, it had to be, or she wouldn’t have been that angry with him.” Joey unnecessarily points out, essentially prodding at Chandler's guilt. “So,” he immaturely grins, “what’d ya do?”

Chandler grimaces at his friends words and begins to mentally prepare for their scrutiny. “I told her I loved her. Not that I still do, but that I did once, and that I’m completely over her. Although I kind of implied that I’m still in love with her. I...I don’t know anymore.”

Rachel splutters. "You did what?"

"Dude." Ross utters. "Do you know how long it took for her to get over you? And now you tell her how you feel."

“I know.” He places his hands in his face in frustration.

Chandler couldn't have looked any more ashamed if he tried. He's upset at the fact that he could ever hurt you and even though he was drunk, he knows how badly he's messed up.

Phoebe turns to him with empathy in her eyes. "Ross is right. But I also know that I'm more right than Ross is." She smiles, flipping her hair over one shoulder, something that she does frequently as a display of her self confidence. "So, here goes.” Thus began a characteristic Phoebe, ‘pick me up’ speech. “You belong together. The two of you have been chasing circles around each other for years, and now is your chance. She already knows how you feel. Now talk to her and get her to believe it, because she's not going to take a chance on a relationship between the two of you happening, unless (Y/n) believes that you truly mean it."

"And we all know you do." Monica chimes in reassuringly, a bright and wide smile on her face.

He faces the group, a contemplative gaze in his eyes. “You really think I should go after her? She just told me-“

Joey grins. “She told you not to follow her. She didn’t tell you not to come after her.”

Somehow Joey’s stupid comment makes him smile. He knows telling Joey that following you, and going after you are basically are the exact same things will get him nowhere. And maybe he, and especially Phoebe, have a point. If he doesn’t go after you now, he might regret it for his entire life.

You’d known each other since Ross brought Chandler to their house back when you were all in college (Ross and Chandler your seniors by a couple of years). You hadn’t known Joey and Phoebe, none of you had, but Rachel, Ross, and Monica, they’d all been in both of your lives for quite some time.

He’d felt different than he ever had when he’d first seen you. Different, but good. It took a good few years for him to figure out that it wasn’t just some silly crush, but that he was in love with you, and once he did, nothing seemed to be the same around you. Clearly you hadn’t noticed his feelings for you, or you would have said something to him. He hadn’t noticed how you felt and hopefully still feel for him, assuming that you would never fall for a guy like him: awkward and unable to commit to anyone.

Standing up, Chandler makes a decision. “I’m going to go find her. I need to at least have her hear what I need to say, and if she doesn’t want anything to do with me, I’ll just have to accept that.”

“Trust me Chandler. It may take her some time, but she’ll come around.” Phoebe smiles. “(Y/n) loves you too much to ever let you go.”

Chandler stands still for a moment, his thoughts getting to him, before Joey nudges him harshly in the arm. “Go get your woman Chandler.”

Ross grins, mocking Joey. “Yeah Chandler. You,” he points at him enthusiastically, “you go get your woman.”

//////

Chandler knows you well enough to know that when you’re upset, you always head back to your apartment. Being a homebody, you don’t tend to go out to think, or to soothe your pain, and luckily for him, you live in the apartment exactly above Monica’s.

Knocking on the door seems easy. Very easy. But what if you slam it right back in his face? What if Jack is there? And what if Jack ends up wanting to get into a fight with him because it’s all too real....too raw. Raising his hand up to the green painted wood is terrifying, but almost as if he’s in auto pilot, Chandler knocks anyway.

You look through the peep hole when you hear a firm knock at your door. ‘What have I done? Why did I do that?’ Your past actions running through your mind like a wildfire.  

You’re not surprised that that is what goes through your mind. You’d spent almost 6 months with Jack, and you’d given it all away, for something that might never work out. You’d broken up with Jack...for Chandler. You also know that you shouldn’t want to see Chandler, but for some reason, you can’t help but hope that he hadn’t listened to you, and that he decided to follow you. Somehow your heart always leads you back to him, whether you like it or not.

“Chandler?” Opening the door, he pushes in without you offering, clearly upset about something. “I thought I told you to not follow me.”

He looks scared, but utterly determined, with a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen from him before. “And I told you that I loved you (Y/n). Drunk or not, that means something to me.”

“You can’t just do that to me and expect me to drop everything for you.” Even though that’s exactly what you had done, you couldn’t let him in that easily. “I was happy with Jack. For the first time since you, since I’d fallen for you, I was happy. When I was with him, I wasn’t thinking about what I didn’t have, about who didn’t want to be with me, or what it could be like if you had wanted me back. It was just him, and me, and it was what I needed.” You push yourself further away from him as he stares intently at you. “Why can’t you understand that?”

“I can. And I will.” He gestures between the two of you. “But I need to know that you’re fully committed to Jack, and that you don’t love me. That you are over me.” He pauses. “Because I am not over you....not even close. But if you want to be with Jack, and you want a life with him, and not me, I will move on as best as I can.”

“Hold on a minute.” You stop him, feeling all the emotions come out at once. “You had no right to tell me that you had feelings for me. Everything was perfect with Jack. Whatever we had with each other, maybe that ship has sailed.”

“What,” Chandler asks, seeing your irritation only fueling him, “so you’re just going to put away your feelings? Hide them away like none of this ever happened? Like we could never happen?”

“I’ve been doing it since the day I met you.” You exclaim in anger. “I’ve gotten pretty damn good at it.”

You didn’t know why you were being so stubborn. You’d broken up with Jack, more so, he’d broken up with you, because even he could see that you still had feelings for Chandler.

“And you’re committed to him?” Chandler’s tone softens. “Jack?”

You wanted to say yes, just to throw it in his face. You’re still angry, but every second you look into his eyes, you can feel yourself becoming less upset. “No.” You say dejectedly. “I don’t think I could ever be fully committed to Jack. Not with you always on my mind, and he noticed it too.”

Chandler takes a few steps towards you, nervous and scared. He cups your face in his hands, waiting....looking into your eyes before he leans down to capture your lips with his. When he does, you feel a weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. You had been waiting for this kiss for years and now that it’s happening, you feel free.

Taking control, you run your hands through his hair, and you can feel him smile. His hands move down to your waist as his mouth leaves your lips to place a kiss on your neck. You let out a breath, and a laugh, Chandler beginning to tickle your sides. The kiss had turned from passionate and heavy, to silly and giggly in a matter of seconds. But it felt right, because Chandler was nothing if he wasn’t making people laugh.

“I meant what I said.” His voice is higher than usual, and his cheeks are flushed as he tries to catch his breath. He looks dazed, and you smile at the look he’s giving you. “I love you.”

Happily (happier than you’ve ever been before) you grin. “I love you too.”