#my show of the season is MAWS and nothing else

[navree]

Can you explain what you mean by a mix of dany and a self-insert oc? Because I don't really see any resemblance between daenerys and rhaenyra since their backstories are totally different. I'm a show watcher only, but I don't mind spoilers. So, can you tell me if this is a thing or not?

Sure no pb!

Thing is, you're actually bang on the money. Dany and Rhaenyra are very different characters, their connections are entirely superficial; they're both Targaryen female throne claimants, and Daenerys is a descendant of Rhaenyra through her second child by Daemon, Viserys (eventually Viserys II), but that's the only thing that they have in common. Dany as a character is entirely different from Rhaenyra, she has a much firmer and more developed sense of justice, she cares deeply for the common people and the plight of the marginalized than Rhaenyra ever does, and she intimately understands what it means to be disadvantaged on the subject of gender and class and sexuality that Rhaenyra, from her position of privilege that she has held her entire life, keenly lacks. Dany grew up impoverished and abused and was literally sold into slavery at thirteen years old; Rhaenyra grew up royal and coddled and in a much greater position of power throughout her childhood than Dany ever got. They're nothing alike, and their stories are entirley different, even in terms of how they approach leadership and rule (in F&B Rhaenyra's reign is shockingly bad because she's exceedingly brutal and turns the population of King's Landing against her, whereas Dany is a lot more cognizant of needing the people on her side, due to having taken her throne in Meereen by right of persuasion and conquest as opposed to Rhaenyra assuming the throne should be handed to her because her dad said so, and Dany is a much gentler ruler who actually denounces the torture Rhaenyra relies on throughout her half-year queenship).

The thing is, the crucial key thing to remember in all of this, is that fandom is a breeding ground for stupidity. Fandoms, especially these days, rarely allow for any sort of nuance or understanding of intricacies, and it therefore breeds people who have a tendency to run their mouths without knowing literally anything of what they're talking about. So a lot of people saw that Dany was a Targaryen woman who called herself queen, and Rhaenyra was a Targaryen woman who called herself queen, and just went "oh wow they're so similar1!111!!!!!!11" without actually examining these characters as, you know, characters. And they don't really want to, because they don't actually care about these characters, they care about being right. That's why so many Team Black stans have a tendency to start creating moral equivalencies between characters people enjoy and who they are in real life, which is why you get things like "if you like Aegon you support rapists" or "if you aren't on Rhaenyra's side while watching the show you're sexist" or the people who leave insane comments on the socials of Fabien or Olivia or Tom or Ewan based on the actions of their characters. Liking Rhaenyra as a character, for these people, is about proving that they're morally superior and in the objective "correct" position, so they aren't interested in Rhaenyra's flaws, or the intricacies of her personality, or the reality of her show situation, which is that she's not popular and has no reason to be popular. She needs to be chosen by God and the people, she needs to be Dany-lite because Dany was popular and everyone liked her and was the most iconic face of GOT/ASOIAF, so if Rhaenyra is Dany, Rhaenyra gets all that too through transference.

Even the show's aware that Dany and Rhaenyra are totally different, there's literally an entire episode dedicated to Rhaenyra being selfish and spoiled without thinking of the consequences both to other people and to herself. Rhaenyra even knows that she has flaws, there's a reason why in episode 8 she's the first one to toast to Alicent (beyond her love for her) and why that toast explicitly includes her saying that she is offering Alicent an apology. But again, this isn't about Rhaenyra as a character, or those who enjoy Rhaenyra as a character, it's people who act like fandom is real life and who are more interested in broadcasting purity and being obnoxious than engaging in a piece of fiction either with enjoyment or a critical eye. And it makes them draw incorrect observations that have no basis and then go from there, like acting as if Dany and Rhaenyra are similar and getting upset when people point out that they're not.

[auspicioustidings]

Taggart

Summary: Silly little festive Price x reader x Soap for @bunnyreaper

Words: 1.2k

“You're right Captain, wouldn't be professional would it?” 

Gaz snorted a laugh at that. Simon's dry tone paired with the fact that the two of them were currently very much wrapped up in one another was making Price look like he was sucking lemon slices. 

Honestly he felt bad for his Captain. Soap and you were up excitedly flipping through the karaoke book and were even more casually affectionate than usual with the alcohol flowing which in turn was clearly driving Price mad. It probably didn't help that the dive bar that you all frequented was so endearingly decorated for the season, the twinkling multicoloured lights giving everything a whimsy feel to it that so suited how you and Soap always were together.

Honestly him and Simon would lay in bed at night and gossip away about this whole thing like a pair of old dears. You, Soap and the Captain were so stupidly in love with one another and all of you were so steadfastly ignoring it. It had been funny at first, but after a year of this it was now just getting frustrating to watch. 

“Oh sod off, you two aren't the same” Price grumbled into his whiskey, eyes never leaving you and Soap.

“I mean if you want to promote me up to Lieutenant then maybe that would be true and if I really have to take a promotion to help you out I suppose I could.”

“Cheeky git.”

“Just taking the piss Captain.”

“Doesn't make him less right. If you're fine with me ruining a Sergeant for anyone else why can't you?”

“Simon you say the most romantic things.”

“I'm a regular casanova.”

Price watched as Soap handed you a microphone with a flourish after hugging you and you both stumbled to the stage, faces flush with the effects of mulled wine and excitement. Goddamnit the two of you were going to be the end of him. He had been fine (so he tells himself) when it was only his wildly inappropriate feelings for John MacTavish he had to contend with. Then a year ago he gets told about some little firestarter medic that was facing a severe disciplinary for disobeying direct orders and assaulting a superior officer. You had refused to leave a man behind and then punched your CO and really he should have known then he was going to fall ass over teakettle for you. You were so like MacTavish in so many ways, and my God did the two of you bring out the best in one another.

He had watched with unbridled pride as you earned a promotion within 6 months of working with them. Overdue really, you should have made Sergeant well before then but you had the same problem that was common with the 141; a stunning lack of respect for those who did nothing to earn it but wear a set of stripes.  

And fuck, it was an absolute joy watching Soap take you under his wing. John always knew he was meant for big things, but watching him be able to teach you made him feel like tearing up. While you teased one another and got into mischief all the time, he also saw how gentle Johnny was with you. He saw the way he looked at you when your eyes were elsewhere, so much adoration that it made his heart hurt. 

Yes, you two were practically made for one another. He was just made to sit and nurse his whisky on the sidelines, cheering you on even if it made his heart break.

–

“Ye should replace it with… uh… yer maw watches Taggart!”

“But you watch Taggart!”

“Aye because it's a pure fandabbydozy show.”

Honestly made sense to you. Well, it made sense when you had tried several of the wonderful Christmas themed cocktails. Fairytale of New York karaoke was your stunning idea, but you were trying to avoid shout singing the word faggot at the top of your lungs and thus you would instead be viciously disparaging Johnny by suggesting his mother watched a detective show. Savage really. You nodded vigorously and Johnny smooshed your cheeks.

“Yer so cute wee yin, ma wee baby bunny” he cooed.

You did try to blow a raspberry at him but the smooshing really fucked up your attempt. Oh you wished John was here too, he always sighed and bonked you both on the head when you'd get into childish little exchanges like this. You frowned, suddenly sad about being too scared to drag him up with you. 

Johnny was easy to pull into stupid things like this, but with John it felt trickier. It wasn't like rank seemed to matter much out of the field in this team, Kyle and Simon were proof enough of that, but deep down you knew that wasn't what made you nervous about it. It was that you had stupidly fallen in love with more than one man. And even worse, you were fairly sure that they were in love with one another. The thought of them pitying you for your crushes horrified you something awful, but you just could not keep yourself away from them.

“Yer sad” Johnny said, seemingly devastated by the prospect. “Dinnae be sad bonnie, cannae stand it when yer sad.”

God he really couldn't. Not that he was ever really able to say it out loud sober. Fuck he was so irrevocably in love with two of his team mates, what a place to find himself.

“OK, gonna sing out my sadness” you said, going a little overboard on the gloomy dramatics.

“Och that’s a pure sin, c’mere my wee darlin’” he replied as he wrapped you up in his arms and squeezed until you couldn’t breathe and were smacking him to let go.

Time to bury your feelings and give the best performance of your life.

–

“Jesus, they’re terrible.”

Kyle looked at Simon and Simon looked at Kyle before they both looked back at Price. He wasn’t wrong, you were God awful, but he was still staring like you and Johnny had hung the stars in the sky nonetheless. It was awfully cute. He was too distracted to even notice that there were eyes everywhere flitting between him and the stage, after all most of the regulars and all of the staff were very much involved in the betting pool on how this was eventually going to play out and maybe tonight would be the night.

They all watched with delighted anticipation as Price eventually downed his whisky just before the end of the song and stood, making a beeline for the stage. 

“Oh! Don’t remember that being part of the song” Kyle said with a choked laugh as Price very much lost all composure and thoroughly crossed rank lines.

Simon tilted his head in amusement and gave a low whistle.

“Suppose we should stop them before they commit a public indecency felony on stage.”

They didn’t have to in the end, the riotous cheering of everyone in the place distracted the three of you for long enough to realise you were very much in public. Surprising nobody, you decided to leave early and turn in for the night. It was not lost on Simon or Kyle that you all went to the same bedroom.

[thevindicativevordan]

My Adventures With Superman S2 trailers?

PEAK RETURNS!

Rapid fire thoughts:

Dude with the bionic arms is apparently Blockbuster not Metallo like I thought initially. Weird to see him but this is the same show that brought in Heatwave and basically only used the name, so maybe their take on Blockbuster will be similar where they use the name and nothing else. Still hoping to see Metallo, he's such a perfect fit for this show that I'm shocked they didn't use him straight away

Alex confirmed to be Lex, surprising absolutely no one. How is he going to go bald I wonder? If Superman is the cause I will cackle.

KARA CONFIRMED! Her suit looks really cool and I love that they gave her the spikey hair like Caulifla over in Dragon Ball has. Bet MAWS Kara will get a similar personality too

Atomic Skull looks siiiiiiick!

Holy cow a Parademon? They're already setting up Darkseid? Lord I hope this show gets renewed, I'd love to see their take on the Fourth World

Rich Jimmy! Really hoping he gets to be more proactive this season

Someone pointed out to me that at 0:58 you can see a man in a mech suit wielding a hammer. At first I thought it was MAWS Perry but that guy has a goatee not a beard and their hairstyles are slightly different. If that's Steel I'll be jumping for joy, love Irons and like Metallo he's a natural fit for this series

Ok look the odds of this are overwhelmingly against, but what if that red orb Supes is struggling with is Solaris? They've cited All-Star Superman as an influence!

Multiple scenes in the trailer where Clark is glowing blue, c'mon give us Superman unlocking his Electric Blue form as his version of going Super Sayian!

In short it looks great and I can't wait for S2 to begin next month. We also might have the MAWS version of Bloodsport showing up in the Josie Campbell tie-in, so I'm definitely checking that out. Man this is the kind of Superman product we sorely need more of, really hoping that Gunn will renew this show for another two seasons.

[crypticbeliever123]

To compare to STAS the main difference is that STAS Superman is more stoic and serious while MAWS Superman is more shy and friendly. They're both good adaptations of Superman just focused on different aspects of his character/life. STAS focuses on his heroics (Superman) while MAWS focuses on the personal stuff (Clark Kent).

I watched STAS and can't tell you one personal plot point he dealt with in that entire series besides that one love triangle episode with him and Batman fighting over Lois and even that was mostly focused on the World's Finest team up.

MAWS has so much more focus on the personal drama that it moreso than the heroics are what I look forward to. The Clois relationship, Jimmy feeling like a third wheel, the secret identity drama, Clark feeling isolated from humanity and even his friends, Lois's daddy issues, etc. The city also feels more personal. STAS felt hollow and like a backdrop for the action while MAWS feels like a bustling metropolitan with many recurring characters such as the Newskid Legion, the Daily Planet staff, Hank Henshaw, and more minor characters who show up more than once like the blimp pilot or the grocery store owner.

Another major difference is the scale of the heroism. Both do have major enemies who could pose a global scale threat but where STAS is dealing with supervillains on the reg, a lot of the heroics we see in MAWS is small scale: cats in trees, helping a kid find his dad after Task Force X abducts him, pulling a family from a sinkhole.

We see more of him acting as someone who just wants to help than STAS Superman who is focused on stopping the bad guys. Like the main bad guys in MAWS aren't even people Clark himself is actively pursuing until he realizes they're the source of the weapons that are hurting people.

The bad guys are actively attacking him. He doesn't want to deal with them. If they weren't there he'd be free to just save people from blimp accidents or whatever rather than fighting killer robots and Kaiju tech suits.

Another difference is the xenophobia. STAS didn't really have that or if it did it didn't focus on it the way MAWS does. MAWS Superman has constant criticisms from the government, the press, the rich, and STAR Labs about how he's a "menace", a "threat", "the end of the world". The average citizen loves him and this is highlighted phenomenally in episode 9 of season 1 but the loudest opinions of him are the naysayers; the rich and powerful.

Going back to what I said about MAWS being more personable than STAS, this is clearest in the main cast. Where STAS felt like Superman alone was a core character and everyone else just felt like a recurring side character MAWS has its side characters feel like actual main characters. Lois is arguably the deuteragonist of this series and Jimmy has a lot of focus on him as well. The Daily Planet feels like a vivid lively workplace with office gossip and coworkers who you interact with in MAWS while STAS felt like a background set more than anything. I don't even remember Perry White's personality in STAS whereas in MAWS he's clearly the tired dad of the office and it's memorable. He feels like a character. Did Perry even show up much in STAS? I know STAS had some recurring cop characters but they weren't all that memorable tbh. I know you're probably saying "but you probably haven't watched it as recently as MAWS" and while that may be true I can still tell you the personalities of characters from shows I haven't seen recently but liked. For example: The Batman 2004's Ellen Yin was dedicated, loyal, by the book but became more willing to bend the rules later on as her mind became more open. Sam from Danny Phantom (which I haven't seen as recently as my watch through of STAS) was brooding, environmentally minded, easily angered, and had a strong moral compass. I can tell you nothing about any of STAS's side characters other than Lois was a girlboss who didn't take shit from anybody and still wasn't half the reporter that MAWS's intern-Lois was since STAS Lois never figured out Superman's identity while MAWS figured it out by like episode 5 or something.

I'm sure by this point it sounds like I'm biased and maybe I am a bit. Ngl STAS kinda bored me because like I said before its show was all about Superman's shenanigans with basically none of Clark's while MAWS has a decent balance of the two.

I will say though for me personally when it comes to what shows I like it tends to boil down to vibes. STAS was serious, professional to the point of impersonal, and the embodiment of a space that doesn't feel lived in. MAWS is mostly unserious, very personal, and the most lively Metropolis you can imagine.

I would definitely say give at least the two part premiere of the show a chance before deciding if it's for you. You'll either vibe with it or you won't. The big question is which character do you prefer: Superman or Clark Kent? Because these two shows do make it clear that there is a difference when it comes to Superman shows and how they approach the character.

Superman the Animated Series is majorly underrated. To me it is just so iconically Superman. I wonder if My Adventures with Superman would give me the same feeling. I've heard good things.

[lailyn]

All In My Head

Febuwhump Day 11: Chronic Pain

Doctor Loki Odinson was having a really, really bad day.

Nothing had gone specifically wrong at work, apart from some difficulty intubating a patient down at the emergency room. The ER was always swamped at this hour and at this time of the year, and could the intensivists deign to come down from their throne and help out? Well, since they asked so nicely…

The days between Christmas and the New Year were always weird, and people did weird shit. Holiday mishaps, pranks gone wrong, over-eating, over-drinking, to name a few. 

But car accidents were the worst, regardless of the season. Loki was not squeamish; he would not be in this profession if he were, but the case he'd consulted on had facial trauma so severe he almost could not tell the nasal and oral passages apart. By the time Loki was done securing an airway, his head was spinning, his stomach a raging sea of acid.

He spent the entire elevator ride up to the surgical floor kissing his forehead to the wall, willing the cold steel to take the growing headache away.

He did not realise he had reached his destination until he heard a familiar voice call out to him through the gaping doors, "Odinson," - and Loki groaned silently and forced his eyes open.

Yeah, not a hallucination.

Loki shook his head. Now's not a good time.

Already scrubbed and gowned, Stephen's eyebrows furrowed in confusion behind his mask, but there appeared to be a more pressing issue, for he then quickly wagged a finger between them, back and forth. "You and me. OT 3."

This time Loki did moan out loud; he had forgotten he was on standby for emergency OT. He had only volunteered because Stephen was on back-to-back calls the whole week and Loki did not feel like being alone back at the apartment all by himself. Stupid Loki.

So much for a quick lie-down, he thought darkly as he trailed his sort-of boyfriend down the corridor.

Stupid, needy Loki.

_________________________

It was the same patient, the poor woman from the car crash, who now had a gaping maw instead of a face. Upon seeing it, the bile rose in Loki's throat so quickly he almost choked and gave himself away.

"You alright?" Stephen peered at him through narrowed eyes. "You look pale."

"No surprise there. Haven't seen the sun in weeks," Loki mumbled, pulling his surgical mask over his nose to hide his face. He then pretended to be very busy, rummaging noisily through the drug trolley. "Intra-ab?"

Stephen casually sat on the empty stool next to him, and Loki froze -

If the surgeon noticed how uncomfortable Loki was, he did not show it, his sombre grey eyes fixed on the legion of nurses preparing and draping their patient for surgery. "Looks like. The CT scan doesn't look good, but we'll see."

"I'm sure you'll manage."

Stephen frowned. "You sure you're alright? You sound weird."

"Do I?” Loki said mildly. “Might have something to do with how close you're sitting next to me."

Stephen shrugged. "Where else do I sit? Half the hospital's here."

Loki looked around, finally taking in his surroundings, and Stephen was not wrong. The operating theatre was packed with people. Loki recognised the urologist, the orthopaedic surgeon, OBGYN -

"Great. All the heroes are here. You're running quite the show, Doctor."

"Everyone wants to save something. She's only thirty years old."

Loki hummed noncommittally.

"And a mother of three."

"I know, Strange. I tubed her."

Stephen raised an impressed eyebrow. "Then you're the biggest hero here. You saved her first."

Loki sniffed. "Very funny."

"Can't blame a guy for trying," Stephen said mildly. After a beat, "There's a protein bar in my locker."

"What?"

"I have a feeling this is going to be a long one," Stephen warned. "You can't leave your stomach empty. I know you've been taking your pills, but - "

"Stop," Loki said quietly. "I know what you're doing, and I need you to stop."

Stephen uncrossed his arms and raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. He looked as though he wanted to say more, but luck was on Loki's side for once.

"We're ready for you, Doctor Strange," a scrub nurse called.

"We'll talk about this later," was all Stephen said before Loki found himself sitting next to an empty chair once again.

The loss was profound, but the void did nothing to ease the poundings in his head.

You can do this, Loki told himself. This is just another day at work.  

Loki stole a furtive look at Stephen's ramrod-straight posture. Even from the back, his... friend commanded presence wherever he went.

You're going to get through this, even if it kills you.  

_______________________

A gruelling three hours later, Stephen and his team put the final stitch in. Despite the preliminary evidence of extensive intra-abdominal injury, the patient was very lucky to have gotten away with a ruptured bladder, lacerated spleen, torn small bowel and sheared mesentery, all reparable and repaired.

With a beaming smile, Stephen turned toward where the anaesthetic team were seated behind him, fully expecting to see Loki give him a thumbs-up, only for his heart to sink like a stone. Loki was nowhere to be seen.

“Is this going to be a thing now?” Doctor MacDowell asked dryly. “Cinderella going off into the night once the magic’s gone?”

Stephen gave the replacement anaesthetist a long, level look. He was beginning to dislike the woman, her friendship with Loki notwithstanding.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said tightly, reserving his comebacks for later use.

“Hmm…” MacDowell pried the blinds open with two fingers and peered outside the window at something Stephen could not see. “His car’s still here, so I don’t think he’s clocked out.”  

The doctor then turned to give him the biggest, cheeriest smile. “Oh, well. I’m sure he’s around here somewhere.”

Stephen could not tear his gloves off fast enough, before stalking out of the theatre without so much as a word.

She called out to Stephen’s retreating back. “If you find him, tell him he owes me two now!”

________________________

Stephen finally tracked Loki down to one of the registrars’ on-call rooms, lying down in pitch darkness, completely motionless.

An odd sense of déjà vu hit Stephen like a train, and he found himself rushing to his lover's side.

"I'm not dying, Stephen," Loki mumbled. "It's just a migraine."

Stephen studied the bag of intravenous fluid Loki was attached to. He peered behind the pole, where he saw more empty packets discarded on the floor. One, two. "Have you been vomiting?"

Loki gave an equivocal wave of the hand. "It's more to offset the postural hypotension from the chlorpromazine, but to answer the question, no. Close, though."

"Best to stay off your feet for a while, then." Maintaining a casual tone was more difficult when the worry was real. How bad must the migraine be, for Loki to have to take a second-line drug to ease the pain?

He sat down very carefully on the foot of the bed. "Is it helping?"

Loki shrugged. Meh . "Too early to tell."

"Maybe it's not a migraine at all.”

“Here we go,” Loki muttered to himself.

“How bad is the pain? You sure it’s only on one side? We need to rule out subarachnoid haemorrhage. You never know, a young guy like you, it could be an aneurysm.”

“Stephen…” Loki moaned.

But Stephen was too far gone in his soliloquy to listen, “I’d give it another hour. You’re still lucid so that’s good, but I think we should order an MRI, I know the radiologist on-call, I pseudo-dated her once, I could call in a favour - ”

Loki lifted a foot and gave Stephen’s crotch a blind, strong kick.

“Ow!” Stephen howled, as he doubled over in pain, “What the fuck, Loki?”

“This is why I don’t talk. You don’t fucking listen,” Loki hissed.

“Not too long ago your ‘just a heartburn’ turned out to be a freaking ulcer, so excuse me if I’m being a bit cautious, I believe I’ve earned it!” Stephen hissed back.

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” Loki said, voice dripping with acid. “What else have you been doing? Besides checking my pills to see if I’ve taken them? Would you like to check the insides of my mouth too?”

“Like your dick hasn’t seen mine.”

Loki’s blood ran cold. “Get out.”

“This again.” Stephen barked a laugh. “You know what? I don’t fucking care anymore.”

He catapulted himself out of bed without thinking, and this time, it was Loki who howled in sheer agony from the jarring motion.

"Oh shit - " Stephen grabbed the trash can just in time and stuck it under Loki's head.

Loki clenched the sides of his head as he retched piteously, bringing up half-digested pills and granola and what sounded like every organ in his body.

Stephen felt like the biggest heel in the world. "Shit. I am so sorry, Loki."

"Not as sorry as I," Loki growled, eyes red-rimmed and furious. "Your dollar store protein bar's disgusting."

Stephen's defensive 'Hey' got drowned out by another round of empty retching.

"Do you want me to get somebody? MacDowell's covering for you, isn't she?" Stephen asked.

"I'm fine," Loki gasped. "This will go away soon enough."

"So it is a migraine?" Stephen asked doubtfully.

"Of course it is, Strange. I'm not a moron."

Stephen winced. "Well, yeah, but you've never had one this bad."

"You've never seen me have one this bad," Loki corrected. "And this isn't the worst."

They remained in the position for some time, Loki curled in a foetal position and Stephen crouched on the linoleum floor next to him.

Stephen cupped the back of Loki's head and began thumbing the visible knots at the blue-veined temple.

“When you’re not here, I miss you,” Loki confessed. “But when you are here, I wish you weren’t.”

Stephen took a moment to process Loki’s hurtful, but not entirely misplaced words. “All the time?”

“Sometimes. Like now,” Loki said, shifting uncomfortably. “You’re so fucking loud, you make my head split.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

"Don't stop," Loki murmured.

Stephen obliged, resuming the scalp massage as gently as he could. He would not want to make the headache worse. "What do you think triggered it?"

"I haven't been sleeping very well," Loki admitted. "My neighbours. They've been...loud."

"What did the management say?"

Loki frowned, not following.

"You're telling me you didn't complain?"

Loki shrugged. "Nothing much you can do when you have a fussy newborn, is there?"

"Oh, the pregnant lady next door had the baby! Finally!" Stephen said awkwardly. "I forgot about that."

"Yeah…" Loki said slowly. "You haven't been over in a while."

"I've been a bit busy," Stephen said apologetically. "Neurosurgery's kicking my ass."

"No humblebragging, Doctor," Loki murmured. "It's unattractive."

"You think I have a shot at it?"

Loki snorted. "You'd better. You're an appalling general surgeon."

"Excuse me?"

"You were cauterising so much the theatre smelled like a steakhouse." Loki pinched the bridge of his nose at the scent memory. It had been the last straw, the final nail in the coffin. If he had stayed any longer, he would have drowned in his own sick.

"Not my fault the patient was a bleeder."

"Everybody bleeds, Strange," Loki sighed, snuggling deeper into the crook between Stephen's chin and chest. "Gotta look for the leak to plug it."

Stephen thumbed the crow's feet of pain at the corner of Loki's eye thoughtfully. "You're coming home with me."

"No, I'm not."

"I can come in the morning through Yorkhill Parade and park my car in the east wing. You can take the freeway and park where the new blocks are, it's closest to the ICU anyway. No one will know."

Loki peered at him through half-lidded eyes. What Stephen could see of them was dull and filled with pain. "You are actually asking me to move in with you?"

Stephen had to word this very, very carefully. "No, I am asking you to try and get a good night's sleep once in a while."

"You're one to talk. You've been studying your ass off while still working full-time."

"All the more reason why you should move in," Stephen said, his rakish grin making his handsome face appear boyish and earnest. "So you can try and make me sleep."

"Is that a dare, Doctor Strange?"

"An invitation," Stephen murmured, "Should you choose to accept."

"I would kiss you but my mouth tastes of vomit and unidentifiable, highly-processed protein material."

Stephen shrugged. "As far as security bonds go, it's not the worst."

Loki pursed his lips, "You asked for it."

And thus, they sealed yet another deal with a kiss; artificially-sweetened as it may be, it was one of the more memorable ones in the long, long list of kisses to come.

[salvatore-moreau-is-perfect]

Young Sheldon Rant (kinda long sorry also probably a whole bunch of spoilers)

Don't mind me I just spent the last 4 hours crying over Sheldon Cooper from The Big Bang Theory/Young Sheldon.

I have been trying to watch Young Sheldon recently but it's near impossible to watch season 4 anywhere in Australia for some reason.

I just keep thinking....that poor kid. He is clearly mentally ill and there is nothing wrong with that i mean I am for pete's sakes, but the way his family treats it is heartbreaking.

I know its set before the 2000's so the stigma towards mental illness was even worse than what it is now but for fuck's sakes he clearly needs help. In fact his family makes it worse.

One moment they are treating him like an adult, letting him get a job, go to college stuff like that.

But the very next moment they treat him like he is 5. His mother mainly does this and while I can understand it, the level of neglect her other 2 children must feel is scary.

Georgie (His older brother if anyone reading didnt know) even states it in the original show, So much was sacrificed just to make Sheldon happy and again.....it's his mum that does this. She accommodates him almost all the time, she treats him like a toddler despite him pretty much being 13 by season 4/5.

(Random fun fact my pet conure is named Georgie, not after him but after a pineapple duck character Moriah Elisabeth on youtube made)

In the main show it makes us believe that Sheldon's dad is the quote on quote *Bad Parent* while his mum was the good one. Honestly I think it's the reverse. Now don't get me wrong, neither of them are abusive or cruel. I am just saying that when grown up Sheldon talks about his father it's almost always about something bad. His alcoholism, the time he caught his father cheating on his mother, the constant fights the parents would have all the time (Often about money or himself).

Actually now that I think about it, Sheldon did say something that makes it sound like his dad hit him or at least threatened to. It was along the lines of "Stop crying or I will give you something to cry about" which I have heard plenty of stories from real people that talked about being hit. I highly doubt that he went through with the threat, he never gave off that vibe during the show and it's like the only time Sheldon brings it up to my knowledge.

His mother on the other hand oh ho ho (why did I type that?) was just all over the place. 1 moment she was the perfect Christian mother doing her best with a *ehm* "Gifted" son. The next she would be picking fights with neighbors, hiding money from her husband though this could be somewhat justified and refusing to let Sheldon grow up normally.

Now remember, I have seen next to nothing of season 4 and have only had what appear to be glimpses into his fathers' death/infidelity so forgive me if I have some facts wrong.

(Ha this was meant to be about Sheldon but I am mainly talking about his family....sorry)

Missy is also very similar to her adult counterpart but again less mature since she would be the only 1 of the 3 kids to not be in highschool. I love how they gave her a real personality and didn't just make her the stereotypical sister who loves girly things and boys and stuff. She is honestly very funny, has a wide range of emotions, likes to set fires and gets annoyed when Sheldon is being well...Sheldon. Now I am not sure if this was someone's headcanon or something the show actually implied and that I missed because I watched all 12 seasons of BBT in less than 2 weeks but I remember reading somewhere that she grows up to have a unhealthy relationship with alcohol just like their dad and I hope it's not true. I loved it when Mee Maw makes the Baseball coach give her a chance at playing and how despite her reason for joining was to get close to a guy Missy ends up really enjoying the game and it opened up bonding moments with the dad.

Mee Maw (aka grandma) was fine I guess. We only saw her once in the original show and other then being protective of her grandson we knew nothing else about her. So it would not be that hard to give her a personality and they gave her a great one. She treated all the kids the same and helped them whenever possible but she had a life outside of her family. My favorite scene with her though is when she tells Missy that the reason why her mum was so religious was because something went wrong when she was born and her mum promised to be the perfect christen if god would let Missy live and it worked (in her mind anyway.) It was so heartwarming and was such a good way to explain way the mum was so devoted to her faith. The whole "She dates someone with a lot of similar querks to Sheldon" thing seemed odd to me (All romance is odd to me lets be honest) I did enjoy his character.

Speaking of John Sturgis I honestly did not expect his character to get as dark as it did. Not dark as in "He was bad man that did bad things" I mean dark as in he had a mental illness (Dementia I think? correct me if I am wrong) that was affecting him so badly that he had to be placed into a hospital for a while. I am sad that Sheldon never brought him up in BBT and I assume it's because he didn't exist yet. He basically became Sheldon's second Grandfather figure since his bio one died when he was....I want to say between 4 to 6. After season 2 though he wasn't really in it as often anymore. In fact Mee Maw was dating a different man.

(Speaking of the second man is he dying? The most recent episode I saw which was the S3 final showed him acting super weird and suddenly becoming more religious so I think this is the case. I don't care about spoilers so please tell me.)

Also I just thought that I should say I resonate with Sheldon to a alarming degree. We have very similar quirks, we annoy anyone that talks to us, had complicated relationships with our fathers and overall were just the weird kids that nobody liked. The big difference being that Sheldon is a genius while I cried so hard during a maths quiz that I was cut from not only that class but my biology one as well, also I got put into a lower level english class. I passed by the skin of my teeth i'll tell you that much.

This is long as sin so I shall do a part 2 of just Young Sheldon himself.

If anyone actually cares please give me your opinions, any corrections I may need to make and tell me if you want me to talk about the minor characters as well.

[shannygoatgruff]

Only Fan(s) - A Thriller

Genre: Thriller

Pairing: Modern Ivar/OC

Warning: Language, sex, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, sexual assault

Rating: MA+18

Summary: Sometimes OnlyFans subscribers want a little more than internet pictures. Sometimes they want to be your ONLY fan…

Header by: @flowers-in-your-hayr

Thanks to @xbellaxcarolinax for being my beta.

Disclaimer: This story will deal with some topics that might be a little uncomfortable for some people. As always, I’ll try to tackle the hard stuff as tactfully as possible.

a/n: I wrote this months ago and let it sit on the shelf. I’m finally ready to dust it off and give it another go...so let’s see what it do...

Part iii - Trifecta

Torren Sykes hadn’t lived what anyone would consider an exciting life. In fact, in her twenty-three years, she had only just left her mom’s double-wide trailer in East Bumble Fuck less than a year ago. Not quite 365 days later, she still didn’t have a pot to piss in, nor a window to throw it out of.

Truthfully, she usually didn’t know where she would be getting her next meal - that sort of thing wasn’t really a big deal to her. She actually liked the mystery of it all. There was something undeniably sexy about not knowing what the day would bring - who she would run into, or have to take something off of to survive. If someone else had to get hurt so she could make it through another day, such was life. She’d won. Those other people just needed to be better at playing the fucking game, plain and simple. 

Besides, pulling a caper or two kept her on her toes. She learned how to pull off the best of them from her mother. It’s not like adulting was one of Leslie’s strong suits. 

If only her mother had been more like her Me-Maw, now that woman was a saint. For reasons that Torren never cared to ask, she lived with her Me-Maw until she was five years old.  Leslie would periodically visit her to drop off the obligatory present on Christmas or her birthday if that bitch remembered. Not that they were ever good presents – just some cheap ass, unwrapped items she happened to pick up at the dollar store. Torren couldn't remember a gift that she had received wasn't still in the plastic bag with the receipt in it.

Cheap, whore.

Just once she would have liked a real baby doll from Toys-R-Us, instead of those cheap, hard, plastic dolls that the hand molds weren't cut out evenly, and the jagged edges cut the shit out of her face when she tried to sleep with it. But, that was Leslie. Torren didn't choose her; Leslie sure as shit didn't choose her daughter.

It became painfully clear to Torren that her mother didn’t want anything to do with her after her Me-Maw died. Unfortunately, she found herself as her mother’s unwitting roommate at a very young age, forcing the girl to spend a lot of time alone. 

By the time she turned nine, Torren was convinced that her mother was a prostitute and she was a trick baby. It was the only explanation she could come up with seeing as how her mother never worked but always had enough money to pay the rent, keep the lights on, and have plenty of booze, chips, and hot dogs in the fridge. 

Not that Torren had many other life experiences with a working parent to compare her situation to, but it just seemed pretty fucking difficult to have a job if one were passed out drunk all the fucking time. Besides, who had time to work when during your waking hours you were spending them with one of your many, many boyfriends? 

Torren used to wonder if one of the multitudes of men that would traipse in and out of that trailer were her father - but the more she got to know what type of person Leslie was, the more she realized that whoever that guy was, had gotten the hell out of dodge. 

Lucky son-of-a-bitch. 

But for all of Leslie’s flaws, she did manage to impart her three philosophies of life onto her daughter - the three things that Torren still lived by to this day. It was the least she could do. God knows that whore sure as fuck didn’t do anything else for her.

Mama’s Life Lessons #1 - There is no such thing as too much black eyeliner

As trivial as it sounded, it proved to be a precious lesson. Shortly after she had moved into the trailer, Leslie had forced Torren to sit on the bed and watch as she got ready for another one of her "dates". She had told the little girl that beautiful eyes were the one good gene that ran in their family. “You got to learn how to work ‘em,” Leslie exhaled a long plume of smoke at her reflection in the vanity mirror, “You listenin'? This's important. This right here," she held up the black liner pencil, “is gonna be your best friend.”

Of course, Torren had no idea what she meant. How was a pencil going to her friend? She didn’t really care so much as what her mother was saying to her at the moment, it was more of the fact that she was actually talking to her that made Torren hang on to every word. 

That’s why she picked up the black liner pencil from her mother's cluttered vanity table and leaned over to look in the mirror. She tried tracing her bottom lid, the way her mother had done, but at six it was a little easier said than done. She had just learned how to color inside the lines with a fat crayon; mastering the art of applying liner would have to wait a few more years. 

Leslie, however, was not willing to wait that long, "What the hell's amatta wit'chu, Dumbass? You doin' it all wrong," she said snatching the pencil from the girl's hand. Grabbing Torren roughly by the chin she said, "Gotta teach you every goddamn thing. Hold still." She mumbled more curses and said something about her good-for-nothing mother not teaching her brat anything useful.

By the time she had finished cursing her name, Leslie roughly turned her daughter's head toward the mirror, "Yeah you got those eyes. Now, learn to use ‘em.” Leslie dropped the pencil onto the vanity before picking up her drink and shooing Torren away. 

That was the day that Drew Watkins bought her an ice cream. It had to be the eyeliner. It was a true fact, not just another one of her mother's drunken theories. Eyeliner and her eyes...she didn’t know how she used them, but they worked.

From that day on Torren opted to never step foot outside without heavy black liner again. 

Mama’s Life Lessons #2 - As long as there are men around that want to fuck you, you will never need to work

It wasn’t like she going to go out and get a real job. She wasn’t raised with much of a work ethic. She was too young to remember if her Me-Maw worked and what she gathered from her mother was that there would always be men around to take care of her. 

Leslie told her that she didn’t need to work because working a man was a full-time job. If she were doing that right, she wouldn’t have time for a fucking 9-5. It didn’t matter if he was in a relationship, gay, or the fucking Pope. As long as he a dick and she could bend over, and her eyes were done, her rent was as good as paid. 

If she wanted more than just the basic bills paid, she would have to rethink what all she was willing to do - but just make sure she didn’t do too much otherwise she couldn’t guarantee a steady paycheck every week.

This sage advice didn’t make much sense to 8-year-old Torren, but as the years progressed she started to work it into one of her life’s mottos. She would never want for anything. She could always rely on the kindness of strangers and when that got to be too boring, she could always take it, just to spice things up a bit.  

Mama’s Life Lessons #3 - If you want something do whatever it takes to make sure you get it

As a child that grew up with the television as a babysitter, Torren Sykes knew that she was destined to love Ivar “Lothbrok” Ragnarsson since she was a little girl. Ever since that day she turned on the TV and saw this adorable blue-eyed boy drawing Mickey Mouse ears saying, “I’m Ivar Lothbrok and you’re watching the Disney Channel,” she knew that he had to be hers. 

He was co-starring on a show called The Baker Boys, about three foster kids, who had come to live with a family that owned a bakery. Ivar’s character was named Simon Baker - a mischievous kid that lived with his grandmother until she died and never felt like he fit in with this cookie-cutter family. 

His life was just like hers - minus the cookie-cutter family that loved him and all. She was actually with more of an alcoholic whore that didn’t give a shit if she lived or died, and not pulling stunts in a bakery with flour and messing up orders like him, but she still saw them as kindred spirits. 

When the show got canceled she was devastated. How dare the world try to keep her from her man? Didn’t they understand this was love? Didn’t those people at Disneyland know that he was the only person in the world that understood her?

As if on queue, she happened to find the Season 2 DVD box-set at the library one afternoon. Her mother had kicked her out of the trailer because she had a date and couldn’t have the dumbass child around fucking things up for her. Torren had nothing else to do - at 11-years-old, she had no money, and nowhere to go. At least the library was air-conditioned. 

She wanted that box-set. Slipping it into her backpack unnoticed was the easy part. Trying to get it past the alarms would be harder. She watched for a while, paying particular attention to the way the check-out system worked. 

When the librarians changed shifts, she let a smile cross her lips as she picked a few random books from the shelves. 

Her beautiful eyes went as big as saucers when the alarm buzzed, and the young male librarian looked down at her, still clutching the large reference book to her check. Carefully she had stepped across to the other side of the alarm sensor waiting to collect the books she was checking out.

“I’m sorry, you can’t check out reference books,” the young man said, blinking his hazel eyes at Torren, the corner of his lip tugging into a smile.

She let a pout fall on her lips as she lowered her large eyes down to the book in her arms, “Oh...sorry.” She handed the book back, “I didn’t realize I still had it.” And like that, she walked out of the library with her prize.

She had stolen for Ivar...now if that wasn’t love what was?

The only thing that had threatened their love through the years is when Ivar got married. It damn near broke Torren’s heart. How could he be so cruel? She didn’t give a fuck that the marriage was short-lived. She even understood why he had to do it. He had gotten that bitch pregnant, and he didn’t have much choice. But, he cut her deep. 

Didn’t he know how much she loved him? Didn’t he know that she stuck by him when he had joined 6cess and had seen him in concert 3 times? She still had the autographed photo of the two of them from the signing at Spring Hills Mall - when she was wearing that blue midriff cardigan and ripped jeans and he had his arm around her. That shirt brought out the color in his eyes. She even wore Happy, which he said was his favorite perfume. She thought it smelled like Comet, but she stole a bottle of it from Macy’s right before the photo-op to smell good for him. 

And he went and pulled this shit?

Besides, Johnny Law said that she was still too young for him and that he could get arrested for being with her. She knew that he had to pretend to have a normal life so that no one would know about their love affair. She was just understanding like that. It gave her time to grow up a little more so that when they could he be together, the law wouldn't be standing in their way. She really didn't give a fuck, but she suspected he did. Why else hadn't he come for her?

Torren didn’t even like their music. She wasn’t a boyband kind of girl, but for him, she would make the exception. She was more of the gangsta rap or heavy metal type girl. But if Ivar was serenading her, she’d listen to sappy, wrist-slitting, emo, shit rock all fucking day long, because she loved him. 

She hated that he had gotten that whore pregnant, too. She understood that he had to pretend that they had a normal marriage. She knew that when he was fucking that bitch, he was really imagining it was her. The years apart had made him a master at hiding his true feelings for her. He couldn't give anyone cause for suspicion. If he let on the truth he could risk losing everything…his house, cars, job, and his kid. That whore was trying to keep them apart. But, she was just a small obstacle that posed no real threat to Torren.

She did not doubt that she would be his daughter's new mommy. The kid would probably be sad at first that she wouldn't be with that other woman like Torren had been when her grandmother died. But, the kid would get used to it. Torren was going to be a whole hell of a lot better at being a mom than her piece of shit mother was to her. That was for damn sure. She was going to teach her stepdaughter all about eyeliner, and how to dye her hair. 

She was going to teach her what party clothes every woman should have in her wardrobe and how to get a man to do whatever she wanted by just batting her eyes at him. She would even share her secrets on what pills to mix and what dosages to give for submission, making a man catatonic, and if she was really good, she'd teach what to put in a drink to kill someone. Hell, she even planned on giving the child her most discrete drug contacts. That would of course have to wait until she was older – at least 13. She was going to be such a good mommy. 

Ivar's daughter was going to love Torren as much as Torren loved him. They were going to be the perfect family.

Torren was as hopelessly devoted to Ivar as he was to her. He had waited for her to become legal. Just months before she was old enough to legally consent to sex, and get married without parental permission, his marriage started falling apart. She knew that Ivar was trying to make a clean break from his wife, and get his daughter used to the idea of them being apart before he could come home to her. 

Torren had been thoughtful and respectful enough to give him that space to make sure everything was right before she stepped into the role of the new Mrs. Lothbrok. He had to test the waters, make sure that she still wanted him as much as he wanted her. He had to get back into the swing of things…have sex constantly to make sure he could keep up with her. She knew that "the prude" wasn't doing it nearly as often as he needed to - why else would he have an Only Fans page?

Torren was the only one that could feed his appetite, and he hers.

Now, they were both finally ready. She was mature and developed. She knew what she needed, and it was him. He had his fun before her, but now he was auditioning again and getting everything back on track for them. He had a great relationship with his daughter and his dumb ass ex-wife finally understood that their relationship was a fling that went too far.

His face told her everything that her heart already knew. He loved her. 

Why else would be looking at her like that? She could feel herself blush when he smiled on Instagram like that into them. Then he gave her that smile. That was her smile; the one that he reserved for her during their private times. Yet, there he was doing it in front of an audience of millions, and he didn't care who saw it. He had to let her know that it was time for her to come home. It was like a sleeper cell being awakened.

She didn't have a choice. She did what any other woman in her position would do. She packed a bag, threw it in the car she stole a few days before and drove. Armed with her trifecta of knowledge and determination, she prepared to face the obstacles that were bound to get in her way. There was nothing that was going to stop her from getting her man.

Nothing.

Part ii || Part iv

Tags: @ideagarden-blog1​  @youbloodymadgenius​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @didiintheblog​ @conaionaru​ @peachyboneless​ @flowers-in-your-hayr @heavenly1927​ @zuxiezendler @waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys @didiintheblog​  @revolution-starter​

[queenmuzz]

Deep Blue Sea: Chapter IV

The way to a merman’s heart....

For a link to the full story on Ao3, click here

“You gotta be more specific than 'small silvery fish with spots' when describing the type you like, Vergil. That covers dozens of groups, let alone individual types.” You sat, back to the glass, while on your laptop, pulling up picture after picture of similar looking fish. Vergil floated behind your shoulder, steadily dismissing each picture.

“Well, the issue is that you humans seem to have picked a different name for it than we have” he almost seemed faintly amused at your frustration.

“What does the name 'Cordina' mean anyway?” You closed the browser window with the latest batch of rejected pictures. Well, it wasn't herring... what if it was a fish that humans just didn't eat?

“It is just a name in Old Mer. Do your names of your food staples have to mean something?”

He had a point. A cow was just that... a cow. You grumbled, this was going nowhere... You slammed the laptop shut, and spun to face him. He had been a lot closer than you expected, nearly plastered to the glass, and he quickly darted back, as if he had been caught doing something bad. Had there been no glass or water there, you would have been able to feel his breath on the back of your neck.... the thought of that made you feel warm...

“Alright wise guy, tell me something else about the fish, like how it moves, where it lives, any peculiar oddities it doesn't share with any other fish.” He cocked his head to the side, and his eyes looked upward as he recalled the information.

“It prefers cold water, and usually stays in the far south, ” He said, which was no help. Quite a few species were like that. “But...every so often, when the seasons make a full cycle, a current of cold water juts far north, and the Cordina follow it, to forage in the new territory. At the same time, the warmth of the Ringed Sea pushes against it, forcing the fish into a long narrow column, close to the coast. And since the water is shallow, the fish are easy picking for both the birds above and the predators below. And thus, the feeding begins”

Hmmm, that sounded familiar...you wracked your brain, trying to remember where you had heard of that phenomenon. A memory of a professor, showing an image of the east coast of Southern Africa...AHA! You yanked open your laptop again, and typed in words, bringing up the image of a fish that fit the description. Flipping it around, you showed him.

“BEHOLD! The Sardine! Specifically Sardinops sagax, South African Sardine ” You watched as he cautiously approached the glass, peering at the image, scrutinizing it. You felt a sudden nervousness, as if you were waiting for your exam marks to be revealed.

And then he smiled.

It was a small smile, barely visible, but it was genuine, and beautiful. Something you wanted to see all the time.

“You're very knowledgeable about such things, I hadn't thought that you, a human, would know about something so far away, and in the ocean, to boot.”

“Well, it's what I studied in university” you watched the confused look on his face, “That's where some people go to learn things so they can specialize. Some want to learn about computers,” you tapped the laptop, “Some learn to teach children, and some, like me, want to learn and explore the ocean. Migration patterns of Sardines aren't my specialty, but we did learn about them from about a lecturer who had studied it.”

“Not your specialty?” He asked.

Well, the ocean is vast and for the most part, we don't know what's down there...so a lot of us just focus on one Ocean, one particular ecosystem, hell, sometimes one type of individual fish. I prefer to study the deep ocean, it's a whole new world out there. We know more about the moon-”

“The moon?”

“The thing in the sky, usually you see it at night, cycles between getting bigger and smaller...”

“Ah, the Tidemother....”

It had a nice ring to it, you thought... very romantic, you'd have to ask him more about terms he used. “Anyways, the cutting edge of what we don't understand is the deep ocean, since we can't just... go.. there. Not to mention, it's an entire ecosystem that's not dependent on the sun...the Moon's daytime counterpart.” you clarified.

"Tidefather” he responded, “and no doubt, once you scour the sea floor, you will find a way to exploit it, as humans are wont to do. Never satisfied with their lot in life, they take, and take, and take...” His fists balled up, and even though you were separated by thick glass, you felt the urge to scoot away. The old look of hatred you had first encountered came back with a vengeance.

“What? No!” you responded. “I mean, humanity as a whole has done a lot of damage, I'll admit to that, but we're trying to get better...bit by bit.”

“Fitting words for the daughter of a murderer...” he shot back, an you winced. He had a point. Your father's company (and soon to be yours) harvested thousands and thousands of tonnes of fish each year. But something didn't make sense...

“Not that I'm accusing you or anything, but you've been going after my father's fishing vessels, but I remember that during the Sardine Run, fishermen from the villages on the coast come out in droves to harvest the fish as well, why not attack them?”

A pregnant pause, and you were afraid you had offended him “They merely harvest to feed their families, and their fellow humans, and besides, they are merely one fish in a shoal. I do not feel ill will towards them anymore then I do against any of the other predators.” he calmly explained, before returning to his anger “However, when those ships, with nets that can envelop and harvest countless fish, can scour the oceans clean to feed their hungry maws, that's what I take issue with...”

“Point taken...but if I'm going to get you some of the fish, I'm going to have to buy it from someone who most likely participates in that sort of thing... so it's either kelp, another fish I can get locally, or... this.” He hesitated for moment, before bowing his head in defeat.

“If this is the price for keeping my sanity, so be it”

******

You sat on aquarium platform, with a plate of fresh sardines splayed out in an amateur design, as if it was a plate of hors d'oeuvres at a fancy dinner. Unfortunately, there hadn't been much choice at the market, so you were only able to procure a little over a dozen of the fresh ones (and had managed to finagle a deal with a bemused fishmonger to get a regular supply, citing that you were rehabilitating some sea mammal, it was technically true) but it would take a while to get the supply going. So, you attempted a substitute, which you stacked beside the plate. Cans, and cans, and cans of Sardines. The look the cashier gave you, and the way her eyes darted down to your stomach, to see if you were pregnant, was worth it, even if Vergil ended up hating the stuff.

“So, it doesn't look like sardines are in season, so the ones I got might not be the best condition,” you apologized as you opened one of the sardine cans, one packed in salt water. Perhaps he would like the canned ones that tasted as plain as possible, and then you could try out the more flavourful combinations.

Vergil pulled himself up onto the platform, scaring the bejeesus out of you. “Sheesh, give a gal a warning before you do something like that!”

The merman chuckled...his voice, now 'real' echoed through the room “Apologies, I take it you thought we do not surface.” (you made a mental note to attempt to make him laugh again.)

“Well, it doesn't seem very practical,” you said. “You seem to be specialized for aquatic travel, while being rather clumsy on land. The inverse is true for humans.” You realized how dry and clinical that sounded, how close you were to sounding like Doctor Griffon. Your hands covered your mouth “Oh God, that sounded so bad, I'm really... really sorry!”

Vergil chuckled again (tingles went down your spine, perhaps the tales of the merfolk's alluring voices had a kernel of truth.) “It is forgiven, you cannot help how you think. You seem to be a person who is constantly observing, eager to learn. There is nothing to be ashamed in that, as long as you realize your limitations. Something the 'Good Doctor' could take a lesson on...”

He picked up one of the sardines by his tail, and with a quick motion that surprised you, he swallowed the fish whole, bones and all. At first you thought it was because he was famished, but then one sardine turned into two, then three, then half a dozen were gulped like a baleen whale gulping an entire shoal. You were used to animals eating like that, but the image of someone so humanlike.... well, you excused yourself, and went into the kitchen to get yourself something to eat (and hopefully settle your stomach). You weren't sure what you wanted, but you wanted something quick and easy.... And as you checked your cupboards, you found it... a plastic package. Pulling out a pot and filling it with water, you began to cook.

Five minutes later, you came out with a steaming bowl of ramen in salty broth. And what you saw nearly made you laugh. Vergil had devoured the entire plate of sardines, the opened can of of sardines in salt water, and was attempting to open another can, one with sardines packed in olive oil. He wasn't having much luck with it, frowning intently as he rotated the can, attempting to find out how to open the treasure box. You stood back, allowing him to explore, until he finally figured the pull tab, and with a bit of effort, he ripped open the top. He grinned at his success, but in his attempt to grab the reward within, he gripped the can by the sharp, recently opened edge. The can was dropped onto the platform with a clatter as he hissed in pain. A stream of blood bloomed on his palm. Quickly setting your bowl down, you ran over.

“Oh no, are you alright?” and before he could protest, you grabbed his hand to inspect the damage. Vaguely, you realized this was the first time you had touched him. His hands were remarkably soft, especially considering the salt water that he spent his life in. A thin red line on his palm indicated a pretty nasty cut....Or it would have, if it was not rapidly healing in front of your eyes.

“How in the...”

“We heal fairly rapidly, especially compared to you humans, we're not sure why, but it grants us a resiliency that most creatures in the ocean lack. How you humans survive without that ability, I have no idea” He, huffed, amused as you used your ratty old shirt to wipe the blood away to reveal that, yes the cut had healed within a few moments, leaving not even a scar. “You didn't have to do that, I would have licked it off.”

“You...lick your own blood?” you asked, part appalled, part intrigued.

“The less blood we shed, the less likely predators will be attracted,” he explained, and you realized that was probably the same reason for his super-healing. Or if a shark or something did approach, the merfolk would be healed enough to fight back or flee. You were learning more and more things about these people, and just by having a conversation, and treating him as an equal. The 'Doctor' was an idiot, he could have gained so much more knowledge, but no, he was compelled to be a douchebag.

As Vergil (carefully) opened another can of sardines, this time in tomato sauce, you went back to your bowl, now reasonably cooled off, and began slurping away. You watched as he swallowed the sardine, and resisted the urge to laugh at the face he made.

“Not a fan, eh? Ah well, you can't like everything.”

“Indeed, a bit too...sweet for my taste” He looked at the other cans, his brow furrowed, before he looked at you, no, he was looking at the bowl in your lap. The tip of his tongue stuck out, as if he was attempting to mentally form a sentence.

“Would you like to try some of my ramen? It's very salty, probably right up your alley”

“My alley?”

“It means I think you'll like it”

He hesitated for a second...before he nodded, and twirling your fork, you wound a small sized portion, before handing the fork to him. You'd expected (foolishly, in hindsight) that he'd take the fork from you, but instead, he shimmied a bit towards your direction, and carefully, fed off your fork. You couldn't resist giggling as he politely slurped up the noodles. “So, how is it?”

He didn't answer, his smile did more than words ever could

[gumnut-logic]

WIP lines

@tracybirds tagged me ::hugs you::  to do recent lines from my works in progress.

I have so, so many works in progress, so I’m only going to pick on the mess I created since I stopped writing The Hero in order to try to get my Secret Santa fic done on time back on the 8 Dec 2019. Yes, that is where the mess all started. There are five ::headdesk::

The Hero

I do not have anything new for this one. What is published is where it is at. So I will have to give you a little that you may have already read.

“He wanted to end this.” Virgil’s parched voice broke the sudden silence. “He tried to shove that down my throat so he could end it. He wanted to blow himself up as much as he was being driven to do the same to us. If he had a bomb in his head, don’t you think he would have found a way to set that off rather than kill all of us?”

We’ll Be Home For Christmas

Gordon pulled up the feed from the Raoul sea buoy network ring. A hologram appeared of the mother and calf with just enough detail for Gordon to point out the healing net injuries on the little one.

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, she was caught nasty.”

“Bastards.”

“Don’t worry, we got them. Hell, IR has identified the money responsible and we have our legal team in motion.” A polite way to say his beautiful girlfriend was wreaking havoc in a calm but final way only she knew how. He had no doubts there would be very little left of the Polominka guy by the time she finished with him.

And what was left would probably be swept up by Parker and deposited in the nearest trash can.

Gotta love a girl who knew how to get a job done.

“Gords, you with us?”

“Huh?” A blink. Sam was grinning at him as if he knew exactly what Gordon was thinking about. He glared at him.

It didn’t faze the man. “Penny for your thoughts?” That was followed by an outright snigger.

“Shut it, Samwise.” So he flushed scarlet, big deal. Idiot.

Thunderbird XL

The ride back was nothing like he remembered eight years ago.

The whole ship vibrated, the harmonic sinking into his bones and curdling his stomach.

Yeah, that’s all I’ve got.

Need

Which sprouted from Thunderbird XL. My muse would not sit still at the end of the season!

Time passed as it always does. Jeff Tracy showed no further signs of mental instability. In fact, he grew stronger. Scott introduced him to the Board of Tracy Industries and he slowly picked up duties in the business, lowering the demand on Scott’s time.

Their father was all the better for it to have a purpose outside of family, and Scott was better to have less work on his plate and actually get to bed at a reasonable time every now and again.

Virgil continued to hover like a worried hen. Scott watched him. Even Gordon sought out Scott on a couple of occasions, concerned for his engineer brother.

Their Dad was regaining his strength, yet Virgil didn’t seem to see it.

When the World Goes Boom

And here we have the current monstrosity awaiting attention ::sigh:: Not all of it is up on the archives as I’ve been slack, but it is up to Part 8 on Tumblr and a good 26,400 words long so far.

“John, there are discrepancies in the records of all fourteen remaining waste harvesting facilities.”

John looked up at her camera. “Exactly like the first?”

“In the majority, variations on a theme. It appears there is methodical thievery in progress.” A hologram appeared in front of him, numbers scrolling through.

John eyed them, rubbing his chin with one blue-gloved hand. Could it be that simple? Theft? “That is a lot of missing material.” He frowned. “Too much to hide easily.”

“I have searched for any suspicious transactions world wide. There are no indications of strain on any of the markets for these materials. If they are being sold, it must be in extremely small increments.”

She threw up another range of numbers.

“They must be storing it. That is far too much to sweep under the rug.” He pulled up a scan of the nearest waste recycling facility. It was in the middle of snaring the remains of a multistage rocket booster. It’s grapples were dragging the huge chunk of metal into a maw of a retrieval bay. Lights flickered on the operating bots darting around the capture.

John eyed it with a frown. Radioactive materials and precious metals. Alan had seen a single person in a space suit carrying something with a radioactive symbol on it. He did a few distance calculations.

“Eos, could you please do a scan of all the space junk within EVA distance of this facility. Look for radioactivity.”

“Yes, John.”

The next question was ‘how did that man not get blown up with Alan?’ Quickly followed by ‘how did Thunderbird Five not detect him in the first place?’

Oops, I was wrong...there is six. There is a fic that I have not archived. It doesn’t even have a title, but is 5,400 words long.

Untitled

“Thank you, Chief McCready. I will be in touch.”

“I look forward to it.”

She stared after the woman as she left the room, thoughts swirling in her head. She had no doubt, Lady Penelope wouldn’t tell her a thing.

But there were other ways,

Cass grabbed her comm and contacted an old friend.

I don’t have any new text for this as I had to freeze it there - last written 7 Feb 2020 after which I went down with an infected foot, decided I had too many WIPs and left it there. But I can say that the old friend that Cass was going to contact was Ned Cook.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed these quick snapshots into where these fics might be going. My priorites at the moment are Boom, Christmas, Hero and then the others if I can wrestle the muse.

Who knows what else will get started in the meantime :D

Nutty

(who goes back to work tomorrow, so my time goes back to minimal)

Tagging: I think lots of peeps have already done this and my memory is atrocious, so have at it if you will :D ::hugs you all::

[tellywoodtrash]

Sanjivani - Weeks 2 + 3

This is now my lunchtime show (replacing random topical news comedy like Late Night with Seth Meyers, Last Week Tonight, Patriot Act, etc.) It’s a nice show to consume that way; I’m not super-involved in it, but it decently holds my interest for a solid 20 minutes as I shove something in my gaping maw.

Overall Plot

Marginal improvement in plot as the show and characters settle in. We learn more about the backgrounds of Ishani and Sid, and their relationship becomes much better. The Shashank/Anjali/Juhi/Vardhan dynamics are also nicely built up, and frankly the more interesting overarching plotline of the show.

The Medical Stuff

They seem to be going for a Grey’s Anatomy type of vibe, I think, focusing on one or two cases over the week. Nothing as interesting as in Grey’s, here it’s more routine kinda cases, but there does seem to be more focus on medicine than there ever was in DMG, which I’m kinda thankful for. While yes, I’m interested in the interpersonal dynamics, I also wanna see these people do their jobs (rather than just canoodling/having angsty fights in stairways and on-call rooms.) With other shows, I really really hate when a day goes on and on for weeks, but in this show, it’s realistic. Residents do often have to do 24 - 36 hour shifts, and each week being about one shift, it’s well-encapsulated; I like how the show flows from one day/shift/case to another.

The Acting

The seniors (Mohnish, Gurdeep, Sayantani) remain the best part, as expected, turning in consistent performances. Surbhi’s performance has toned down considerably, and that’s a big relief. The show would have been unwatchable if she hadn’t. Namit is still weak in some regards (like crying; god that one scene in Week 2 was really bad) but is getting better. He’s best in scenes where he has to be soft and considerate (comforting Anjali/Ishani/Sanya/Neeti etc.) or taking charge of things, coz he plays both these aspects confidently. I also like the chemistry when paired with Surbhi, because he plays off her really well. Only upwards from here, I should hope. The others are.... eh. They’re background characters, so they do what is expected of them.

The Characters

Sid: Sid’s the character that’s grown on me the most compared to the first week. They’ve thankfully toned down his fuckboy-ness waaaaaay down (not sure why they decided to introduce him that way, when it doesn’t even seem to be true of his character aside from in the pilot.) We find out a little more about his social background/family, and it explains why/how he is the way he is. I appreciate his camaraderie with Ishani; he’s obviously fond of her, and attracted to her as well (but in a casual way), but knows she has a lot to learn about how this place works and tries to be a good supporting team member to her, but not to the point where he lets her run amok. He tries to justify his ways to her, but is also willing to let her try her own things in the off case it does pay off; but always has a Plan B in his back pocket, because he knows things don’t work out as expected around here. I like his quiet confidence and integrity, but that he’s also willing to not mince words and/or throw hands if and when absolutely required. Not very realistic of a doctor, but eh, this is Tellywood. Chalta hai.

Ishani: Thankfully, Ishani has mellowed down quite a bit and isn’t as intolerable as she was in the first week. She’s quickly learning that things at Sanjivani are not as they appear and that her initial judgement of Sid was way too hasty/harsh, and has formed a delicate alliance with him. Not to say that she isn’t a stickler for rules anymore, or approves of his on-the-fly, jugaadu/sometimes outright wily ways to skirt around the rules, but she’s trying her best to maintain a balance; in how she tries to help the people who need it, in the most forthright manner. But she’s definitely more comfortable being flexible with “the rules” than she realizes. Her germophobia prevents her from getting comfortable with Sid’s physical proximity whenever he tries to comfort her/express thanks, but I think she appreciates the sentiment.

Shashank: God, I’m so grateful he’s still here. He’s kind of out of sorts due to the surgery, but he’s still very aware and involved in what’s going on in Sanjivani. His gentle battle with Anjali persists, with the latest episode making him give some leeway to her, quite unwillingly though.

Juhi: Beyond Shashank’s surgery, she didn’t really make much of an impression on me in these 2 weeks. She takes the COS job in a spur-of-the-moment decision, purely in an emergency situation, than really actually wanting it. She does a good enough job, stern and smart with the rioting mob/Vardhan, and compassionate and understanding with Ishani, but I do anticipate lots of trouble coming her way in the position. Especially with Rahul lurking mysteriously in the shadows, in cahoots with Vardhan.

Anjali: NOT ENOUGH ANJALI AS I WANT!!!!!! All we do see Anjali doing is either be hysterical during surgery, or sulking over not getting the COS post. For godssake, she’s an HOD, a competent doctor in her own right, can we see her at work too? I want to see her be the kickass boss bitch I know she is; maybe taking a few of these many million juniors under her wing and mentoring them? (She seems to have a good relationship with Sid, it would be nice to see that extend to some others too?) There was one good scene between Shashank and her where they peacefully discuss their issues at the end of this week, but I really need Anjali to DO more than just be standing around feeling bad for herself/manipulated by Vardhan/sniping at Juhi/being passive-aggressive at Shashank. I like that she was upfront enough with Juhi about not liking her, but I don’t like how they’re centering her whole character around just that. You’ve already done this character dirty in one iteration (DMG), please do not waste this chance to showcase the complex personality she is!

Vardhan: A kinda compelling asshole. He has a son that he keeps talking to on the phone, whom seems to dote on and wants to make the best impression on. But harkatein kaafi kameeni. But I also feel marginally sympathetic to him, because he’s trying his best to keep Sanjivani afloat financially. Drs. Shashank and Juhi’s bleeding-heart ways are admirable and all, but the ground realities of running an organization are quite different; and Vardhan is answerable to multiple people above him about it. So yeah I do hate him when he’s doing pettyass evil shit like booting a poor person off a donor list, but in some cases - esp. PR/admin/financial issues, I can see where he’s coming from. I just wish they’d stop making him so caricatureish in his villainy at times and kept him a slick evil, like most corporate types are.

Rishabh: Asshole Jr., but not at all compelling or complex like Vardhan. Just an outright classist asshole, looking to suck up to Vardhan and other richie-rich fuckers and get Sid in trouble. He’s the most annoying part of the show, honestly, constantly lurking around with his phone and filming Sid. Jeez, get a damn life, loser.

Rahil: So sweet and unproblematic, why don’t we see him more (instead of the irritating Rishabh)????? GIVE US MORE RAHIL!!!!!!!

Asha & Aman: They might as well have made them twins, coz they’re so alike (even have matchy-matchy names!) I despise when they unthinkingly run their mouths and blurt out whatever the hell they’re thinking, even to waaaay senior doctors like Juhi and Shashank. Their no-filter admonishments are quite welcome in the case of Ishani though, where they drill some sense into her head. Ultimately, they do have their hearts in the right place and are sincere doctors (if not the most knowledgeable), and I enjoy them in limited amounts; like in the scene where they’re watching Sid and Ishani brawling over the liver.

Asha: Tu idhar mitti ka dher bana khada hai, inki fight rok na??? Aman [watching Sid and Ishani literally bucking at each other while holding an icebox with a liver inside it]: Abbe pagal ho gayi hai ke, baukhlaaye hue saand se ho rakhe hain. Dulatti nahi khaani maine inki!

Neil: Like Rahil, he seems to be sweet and unproblematic, but I get the feeling that he suffers from some kinda health issue? He fainted at the first case out in the field (the bomb blast), Aman mentions he fainted again seeing a corpse that could donate a liver, and he seemed very out of breath when he came to inform Sid/Ishani about another liver donor. I find it hard to believe that a first year resident could be this squeamish about things you get used to by the end of med school, so I really think there’s something else going on here. Is he going to be the Dr. Omi equivalent (the tragically ill character) of this season? I would like to see more of him (than the other jr. residents), because the actor is very measured and likable.

Rahul: We haven’t SEEN him yet, but we have heard him and what we’ve heard......... Does not bode well. I haven’t seen Sanjivani 1, so I don’t know the character as such, but wasn’t he the lead? They’re bringing him back but as an antagonist? Seems quite out-of-character, but I am veryyyyyyyy intrigued about this development, and especially how Juhi fits into all of this.

Overall Rating: 3.5/5

[nosecrinklewrites]

Human Disaster Kylo, part 10

part 1 – part 2 – part 3 – part 4 – part 5 – part 6 – part 7 – part 8 – part 9

”So you're smitten, is what you're saying.”

”Dad.”

”What? It's not like I'm gonna tell him.”

Kylo buried his face in the dog he was cradling in his arms. His dad had parked him on the sofa and told him to stay there. Han hadn't been cooking for long, but the house already smelled amazing. A ragtag of dogs were sitting around Kylo's feet, resting their wet noses on his knees.

Initially, Hux hadn't been able to find time in his calendar for dinner, but a meeting had been rescheduled, and Kylo had hastened to make it fit. Luckily, Han wasn't busy, and Kylo's schedule was flexible.

Kylo was worn out from work. The store always got busier as the weather got colder. The staff were already dreading the Christmas season.

”I just– He's really smart, dad,” Kylo said.

Kylo hadn't heard Han leave the kitchen, and startled a bit when Han buried his fingers in Kylo's hair, ruffling it roughly. ��And handsome, I'm guessing?” Han smiled.

Kylo yawned into the sleeve of his sweater. ”He's a redhead, dad. His eyelashes are gold,” Kylo craned his head around, looking emphatically at Han's retreating back. ”Gold!”

Han shook his head. ”Redheads are something else,” he laughed.

”Just wait till he gets here. He's coming straight from work, so you get to see him in a suit. God, his suits.”

Han made a sympathetic noise.

The dog in Kylo's lap made a displeased sound, mouthing at Kylo's fingers. It was a small fluffy one; the kind that would no doubt be adopted in a matter of weeks. Kylo put the dog back on the floor and weaved his way through the mutts, careful not to step on any paws. ”I don't know if he likes me, though.”

Han nudged Kylo out of the way when he tried to stir the pan. ”Why wouldn't he? You're a likable guy.”

”I'm your spawn, you're supposed to say that,” Kylo grunted and got himself a glass of water.

Han raised an unempressed brow. ”When have I ever lied just to please people?”

”You mean aside from all the time?”

Han elbowed him in the ribs. ”You're a good kid, Kylo. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

”Not even mom?”

Han looked at him sharply.

”You know she's right when she says I'm a handful.”

Han sighed deeply and rubbed a hand down his face. ”This guy made time to see you; to meet your old man. Why would he do that, if he didn't like you?”

Kylo shrugged into his glass. ”Maybe he's just lonely?”

Han pulled him away from the counter and pushed him into the living room. ”Go be an idiot somewhere else.”

Kylo stumbled over a few paws and curled up on the sofa again. ”You better be charming when he gets here, old man,” he grumbled.

–

Every single dog in the house rushed for the door, when the doorbell rang. Han and Kylo attempted to restrain some of the bigger ones, while Kylo answered the door. Kylo had noses in places he'd really rather be without.

He opened the door just enough to look out.

”Hello, Kylo,” Hux said, smiling at the noses trying to wiggle their way outside.

”Hi,” Kylo laughed. ”You think you can squeeze in?”

Together, they got Hux and the dogs herded inside and away from the door. Hux ended up looking frazzled before everyone was calmed down. He had color in his cheeks from the cold weather, a few dusty paw prints on his slacks, and his neat hair was coming loose at the front.

Kylo apoligized for the dogs, which Han joined in on, while Kylo took Hux's overcoat.

”It's quite alright,” Hux assured them and gave gentle pats to the stragglers, intent on keeping Hux intimate company.

”You a dog person, Hux?”

”I'm more of a cat person, Mr. Solo. Can't say I mind the welcome, though,” Hux said and extended his hand for Han. ”It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Solo.”

”Likewise – but please, call me Han.”

With the introductions out of the way, Han went back to the kitchen. Kylo lead Hux to the sofa, where the curious dogs once again flocked around him. Like a person who was enthusiastic about the concept of dogs, but lacking any practical experience, Hux cautiously petted the dogs.

Kylo looked on in horror, as a big dog with a white belly rubbed herself all over Hux's lovely suit, leaving chunks of stark white fur in her wake.

”We have lint rollers,” Kylo offered. He plucked some of the bigger clumps off of Hux's thighs.

”Oh, that's quite alright.” Hux pulled his tie out of a slobbery maw. ”We had cats in my home, growing up. I'm used to the shedding.”

Hux was doing his best to hide his exhaustion, yawning only when Kylo's attentions were elsewhere. Kylo was rather delighted at the sight of Hux being ruffled and just a bit uncoordinated.

Once it was time for dinner and they gathered around the table, Hux pulled his jacket off his shoulder. ”Do you mind if I–?” He asked, and pulled out the empty chair beside him.

”Go ahead,” Han smiled.

Hux pulled his jacket the rest of the way off along with his tie. He draped both over the back of the chair and proceeded to undo his shirt cuffs. The sleeves were pulled up and folded meticulously just above the elbow.

Han quirked his eyebrow pointedly at Kylo.

What? Kylo mouthed.

”You have a type, kid,” he stage whispered and patted Kylo on the back. Han cleared his throat and grinned at Hux. ”You have a type, right? Everyone has a type.”

Hux looked at Han for a moment, face blank. ”Oh, you mean in the romantic sense? Sure. If you lined up my former partners, I'm sure you'd find a pattern.”

Kylo subtly kicked his dad under the table.

”I'm big into brunettes myself,” Han said cheerfully.

Hux hummed in agreement, while piling food onto his plate. ”I've been with some very lovely brunettes. Although, I wouldn't say I specifically go for brunettes.”

”Are you with someone right now?” Han almost didn't grimace when Kylo kicked him again.

Hux looked up from his food. ”Not at the moment, no.”

”Not interested?”

Hux raised his shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. ”Haven't had the time to do much of anything. Not that I mind, honestly. I was in quite an intense relationship a few years ago; I'm not in a hurry to get back into the whole–” he gestured vaguely. ”If I met someone, I wouldn't turn them away because of it, but I'm also not actively looking.”

Han was fully prepared to embarrass the hell out of his son, but didn't manage to say anything before Hux cut in: ”Are you?”

Han blinked. ”Am I what?”

”With someone?”

Taken aback, Han leaned back in his chair. ”No, I– No.”

”Kylo's mother?”

Kylo huffed and smiled. ”She bailed before I made it to high school.”

”Hey,” Han said sharply.

”What? She was miserable, you were miserable, I was … hormonal. None of us were happy, it was the right thing to do.” Kylo turned to Hux, smirking, ”He got back together with his ex-boyfriend, like, two months after mom left.”

”I don't remember you complaining,” Han snorted.

Kylo leaned in closer to Hux, ignoring his dad. ”I was having growth spurts left and right, and I was hungry all the time. Lando loved cooking – still does – and he was always happy to cook for me. It was great.”

”I don't miss the growth spurts,” Hux laughed. ”I shot up like a weed. My poor mother could barely keep up with the clothing.”

The food was delicious and the conversation flowed easily. Hux and Kylo came to realize they had many similar experiences in their childhoods, though, under very different circumstances.

Kylo had grown up with both parents all the way into his teens, but was largely raised by his father. Hux's father had been out of the picture since before he was born.

Once the first helpings were devoured, Hux excused himself.

When the bathroom door clicked shut, Han turned to Kylo. ”Tattoos, huh?”

Kylo frowned.

”Don't remember you drooling over tattoos before.”

”Did you repress my metal phase? I'm pretty sure I was very vocal about tattooed men for a while.”

Han grinned. ”I forgot about that.”

Kylo went back in for a second helping of food, while Han looked at him fondly.

”What?”

”Nothing,” Han said, and shook his head. ”He's just– He seems like a sweet guy, Kylo. He treats you well.”

Kylo felt his cheeks heat up. Damnit. There's no way that would go away before Hux came back.

”You could do worse, is all I'm saying,” Han squeezed Kylo's wrist before turning his attention back to the food.

Between dinner and dessert, Han encouraged Kylo to show Hux's his childhood bedroom. There wasn't much of a room left, as Kylo had brought most of the furniture along with him, when he moved out.

A few decorations remained; posters on the walls, a model of the solar system hanging from the ceiling. The space served as a spare bedroom these days.

”I wasn't expecting dessert,” Hux said, while inspecting a poster of Morrissey.

Kylo was leaning against the doorframe, and ran his fingers through his hair. ”Dad likes to go all out, but you don't have to eat anything if you're full. He's used to feeding me, so his portion sizes are a bit out of sorts.”

”I'm not leaving this house before I've had as much cake as I can comfortably force down, thank you,” Hux turned his eyes on Kylo, smiling softly.

Kylo chuckled, letting his hair obscure his face momentarily. ”He'll let you take any and all leftovers home, if you want. If you don't take it, he's gonna force it onto me.”

”I'm not gonna take food from you, Kylo,” Hux said, brows gently furrowed.

”I still have food left from the last time I was here,” Kylo reassured him. ”You're not taking anything I'm not willing to give.”

Hux blinked. ”You're being much to profound for this hour,” he shook his head and yawned into his elbow.

–

Kylo closed the front door behind them. The sound of nails and excited yips was muffled behind the wood. While Hux fixed his coat, Kylo held on to the tote filled with food Han had packed for Hux.

”Thank you.”

Kylo frowned. ”What for?”

”Inviting me,” Hux said, lining up the buttons of his overcoat. ”And– all of it.”

”I wanted to,” Kylo shrugged and rubbed his shoulders. It was really too cold to be outside without a jacket.

”Next time doesn't have to be as elaborate,” Hux said, smoothing his scarf down. ”Granted, you want a repeat performance.”

”Of course I do,” Kylo said, voice on the edge of too loud and too firm. He cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the tote bag hanging from his fingers.

”You really are the sweetest thing, you know that?” Hux sighed. The vapor of his breath, in the cold air, drifted in the space between them.

Being cold was no longer an issue. Kylo silently thanked the poor quality of the porch light, masking his burning cheeks.

Hux's feet entered his field of vision, and Kylo looked up. Hux was smiling at him. One of those small, soft, fond ones.

”Thank you,” Hux said, once again and wrapped his arms around Kylo.

Kylo's mind whited out for a second, not comprehending what was happening. He slowly raised his arms to return the embrace.

Hux felt incredibly small and delicate in his arms.

Kylo was prepared for the hug to last mere seconds, but when Hux was still holding on, with no signs of letting go, Kylo tucked his face into the crook of Hux's neck. He felt more scarf than skin against his face, but couldn't bring himself to care. A small patch of skin was pressed to Kylo's nose – he had never smelled anything so wonderful.

”I had a really good time,” Hux said, muffled into Kylo's sweater.

”Me too,” he muttered back.

on to part 11

(also on ao3)

[alexiss-fic-archive]

The magic she loves the most

Summary: A monster shows up near Connie’s home.

Notes: Definitely not my best work, but i kinda need the show to fuel my inspiration and after 100+ days im starting to run ow on inspiration. ANYWAY, I needed to pull something out before winter and here it is.

Also available at the Ao3!

Ever since Connie and her parents moved into Delmarva, She noticed that the place had some sort of magic feeling. And she didn't thought so because of the occasional monster attack and the general activities of the Crystal Gems in the area.

She thought that Delmarva was magic in and of itself. The air was fresh, the nights were starry, the people cared for each other and the ocean breeze could be felt from a few miles inland.

This natural magic was often accentuated by the passage of time, which brought something unique to the land as the seasons pass by.

The dreamlike Winter made the air chilly and created beautiful landscapes as snow fell gently during the night. The lively Spring brought the perfume of flowers and a particular day when small flowers descended from the highest hill of the area, showering the suburban area Connie lived in pink. The warm Summer made the heat stronger, and caused the Ocean breeze to be carried further inland. It's arrival also was followed by vacations Connie would spend alongside Steven.

Finally Autumn, the season She was currently in, was a transitory period between the fun of summer and the comfy cold of winter.

The deciduous trees all around the area distorted the everyday weaker Sunlight into a yellowish reflection that gave an ambience of comfort to all the inhabitants of the suburbs. And the sight of their falling leaves as the wind gently blew through them was something relaxing.

That relaxation however was easily shattered by the sound of Steel clashing, as an insectoid Corrupted gem resembling a living yellow pages but green and made out of metal appeared nearby Connie's neighborhood.

It was about the same size as a large car, and was as fast as its slender frame suggested. It's vivid green body changed as it pleased, folding its shiny sheets into dangerously sharp appendages which tried to shred Connie and Steven in tiny Pieces. Its mantis-like visage had a few sets of compound eyes, while its shark-like maw, filled with razor sharp teeth, let out screeches so horrifying that seemed to bend the wind into its will..

Steven and Connie, The two Crystal Gems that weren’t at the other side of the world, were amazingly skilled and managed to drive the beast into a small forest near her neighborhood as Doug and Priyanka calmed down the other residents without the beast causing any damage.

Then, when they were far enough from the suburb to avoid any collateral damage, the two children engaged the creature in combat.

“This isn't what I had in mind when you invited me to hang out.” Steven said as he blocked a scythe-like claw with his shield.

“What did you had in mind?” Connie asked him before trying to deflect the spear-like tendrils that sprouted from the folds on the creatures back.

“I dunno…” He mused as the creature's attacks waned a bit. “Maybe drink some tea, Watch a Romantic comedy, play on the fallen leaves.”

“That sounds great Steven.” Connie said as the dodged a kick from the beast's absurdly sharp legs. “But I kinda want to watch the new adaptation of Dogcopter instead.”

“It’s out already?” He asked her before throwing his shield into the creature's head, which did nothing to it aside from creating a loud, metallic noise.

“Yup. It premiered last night.” She said as she tried to slash at the Creature's side. It remained unflinching as the sharp edge of Rose's sword bounced off the thin material. “Maybe we can watch it later if we figure out how to beat this thing.”

“Awesome!” He said before he created another shield to deflect a set of spears. “But how are we going to do so? It looks like paper but it is as hard as my shield.

“Hmm…” Connie mused as she tried to regroup with Steven, dodging many attacks from the monster in the process. “I think it's like an insect. It has very tough armor outside to protect his squishy inside.”

As Connie reached the boy the creature released an enraged screech, giving Steven enough reaction time to create a bubble just in time to block a powerful claw swipe that sent them bouncing across the woods, tearing their way through the few slender trees before crashing on a large tree trunk.

“Ow…” Steven said after the bubble hit the ground. “You okay?”

“Yeah. But we won't be okay if we let the fight drag on.” She said, pointing at a large crack in the side of the barrier where the beast had attacked.

“Maybe we could throw something into its mouth and hurt him from within.” Steven said as he tried to repair the light barrier.

With that, Connie's face lightened up as an Idea Struck her.

“What if you throw me there?” Connie said Confidently.

“WHAT?!” Steven said surprised. “No! That's too dangerous!”

“If we Don't stop it it might destroy my neighborhood, Steven.” She tried to reason with him. “And it could even go after everyone else.”

“But you could get hurt!” He said, worried about her safety.

“I’ll be fine, Steven. Trust me.” She said, her courageous eyes staring at Steven's.

“Okay.” He conceded. Saving his worry for later. “How do we do it?”

“If we manage to open its mouth we could come up with something.” Connie mused. “I mean, It's obvious that he must use it for more stuff than screeching.”

“Maybe he has a ranged attack?” Steven said.

“You think so?” The girl said.

“Yeah. The air gets all weird and heavy whenever it screeches.” Steven explained. “Maybe he shoots pressurised wind?”

“Did Pearl taught you that?” She asked.

“Not exactly…” The blushing boy said embarrassed. “I saw a guy doing that in the ninja anime we saw the other day.”

His comment pulled out a small giggle from Connie.

“I would lie If I said I didn't thought that as well.” She smiled at him.

Steven was about to say something as well, but was interrupted by the beast's earsplitting screech getting closer to them, followed by a rather violent gust of wind .

Upon noticing the small gale conjured by the monster, Connie said: “Well, I guess that's where the mangaka got his inspiration from.”

The two laughed a bit at the joke before Steven extended his hand towards her.

“Ready to get thrown into a monster's mouth?” He said smugly.

“Thought you might never ask.” She responded similarly before grabbing his hand. Afterwards, Steven wrapped Connie in his arms and leaped upwards, ascending gracefully into the canopy of the tree they crashed into.

Once they got a vantage point, they could see the way the withering treetops seemed to create a small sea of orange and gold, expanding all the way into the meadows where Peridot and Lapis’ barn once was.

However, despite Connie's desire to stay there and watch the sunset in a few hours next to Steven, they had work to do and instead, focused her attention into finding the creature, whose large body shaked the base of the trees as it moved..

“There it is!” Steven said as he catched a green dash in the ocean of orange. “Its coming towards us.”

A moment later, the beast reached a small clearing in the forest, where both of them saw each other in detail. It sprinted towards the kids in a frenzied manner, deciding to paint the nearby trees red with their insides.

Fortunately for them they were at a height where it couldn't reach them, the creature couldn't climb the tree, and after Steven shielded it from its sheets by dropping several constructs near the trunk to defend it and bait it to use its mouth.

At some point, the monster got exasperated and decided to end it all right there. It walked away a few meters before opening its mouth as wide as it could, forcing an overwhelming quantity of air inside that started to bloat its figure like a bloodthirsty tick finishing its meal.

“There it is!” Connie said as she readied her sword to fight. “Now, Steven!”

“On it!” He said as he lifted her effortlessly. “Please stay safe, my strawberry.”

“Don’t worry, biscuit.” Connie declared, ignoring the fact that both of them just called each other by their pet names. “I’ve got this.”

And so, Steven launched his best friend into the vacuum created by the creature's attack.

As she was pulled into the wind vortex, Connie pointed her sword in front of her, in an attempt to impale the monster's vitals with the pull and Steven's strength as her only propulsion.

Connie let out a battle cry as she entered the creatures maw, piercing the back of its throat's soft tissue, inches above the square-shaped gemstone that was the core of the creature.

With another grunt, Connie forced the edge of her sword to slide across the soft flesh, causing its green blood to pour over Connie until its body finally faltered and evaporated in an iridescent puff of green smoke, which disappeared in a flash as the stored air within the monster bursted violently like a balloon, creating a wind so strong that it managed to tear the dying leaves from the entire forest in one go.

Seconds later, a rain of brown, orange and dust fell down to the ground all at once, covering the young girl up to her knees in dead leaves.

“You okay Connie!?” Steven asked as he dangled from a branch of the tree she was on moments ago. “Did you got hurt?”

“I’m fine!” She notified him before sheathing her blade. “I have the monster's gem here!”

“Cool! I’ll be there in a sec!” He said as he flung himself off the branch towards her, using his slow descent to break his fall. The boy landed next to Connie, creating a crackling noise as he stepped on the dry leaves.

“Here.” She handed the gem over to Steven, who proceeded to bubble it and warp it into the temple.

He then gave Connie a small once-over to see if she really wasn't injured.

“So…” Connie said after she was deemed unscathed. “What do you want to do now?”

“Hm…” Steven said. “We should go back and report to your parents.” He told her. “They are probably worried about us.”

“Do you want to see Dogcopter along with me then?” She asked him.

“I wouldn't watch it otherwise.” He said smiling as the pair of children made their way back into her house.

★★★★★

In many cases, watching a new show with your best friend as you drink tea under a blanket to shield yourselves from the cold wind of autumn is something considered as ‘friendship goals’.

In some others, helping clean the mess you did along said best friend after defeating a hideous creature is a similar experience.

It turns out that after the monster popped up like a balloon, the dead leaves from the trees the wind had ripped off flew into the surrounding areas. This of course included Connie’s neighborhood, which seemed to be buried under thirty centimeters of yellow and brown.

However, this didn’t bothered Connie at all.

The point of Steven’s visit was to spend a good time after all, and she already knew that steven was one of the few persons on earth who could turn a boring task into a fun game.

And true to his nature, he made the mundane task of raking the leaves into a contest to see who could make the biggest mound of leaves, only to jump straight into them regardless. Making figures on the leaves and making a tiny amethyst out of them.

This made Connie remember that Steven was also magical. Not only magical in the literal sense, but magical in the same way the land she lived in was. His natural optimism and kindness were something that never failed to shine, even through the most dire of circumstances.

And that magic was the one she loved the most.

[werezmastarbucks]

Soothsayer [5]

[1]

[2]

[3]

[4]

Word count: 1850

Warnings: language, messing with Bucky’s head. Bucky’s pov

Genre / Pairing: Bucky x Reader. kisses! back home.

ZACK HEMSEY - I CAN GET IT BACK

Bucky Barnes was having the strangest dream. He was back in Brooklyn, him and his heavy body, immovable and very stealthy at the same time: ambiguous, like everything else he felt nowadays. His chin was itching, and he scratched it with his left hand, feeling metal fingers soothing the skin. He brushed away the hair from his face and took a deep breath. He was still wearing his navy blue vest and the belt around his torso, which he quickly took off, the buttons clicking. It smelt like jasmine, dust and water; the Brooklyn Bridge was not far away. The house was still pale white, and the sun was standing high, giving the blind spots, hiding the details from his eyes. He felt old. He felt usual. There was dirt on his right palm, and he tried to scrub it off, puzzled to the edge of possibility.

Aren’t I stupid. Getting really really old. Go figure it out, Barnes, said the voice inside his head.

A minute ago he was standing next to Steve, and all his body felt light like a feather, but weird. For a mere second there he got chills because he thought he was falling apart. He’s fallen apart million times before, but this one it was literal. The feet gave way, and then his arm crumbled, and then he suddenly couldn’t stand, collapsing on the ground. The last thing he saw, Y/N, blowing up the clouds of the old leaves with her feet, and how small she looked next to Steve. Why such faces? What happened?

Bucky looked up and put a palm to his forehead, looking at the windows of his house. That’s right, it’s home. There, Rebecca’s room window, with the pale blue curtains they nearly killed each other over at the market last season. So expensive. He couldn’t remember that earlier, but now it was pretty clear. In fact, everything was clear, so right and simple, and he couldn’t understand why it’s been such a big issue to come to terms with his memory.

The window opened, and Rebecca’s head appeared in between the sills.

“Hey, dirty head!”

Her long black hair was like a fox tail, glistening in the sun.

“How many times’ve I told ya not to shove yourself outta window like that!” Bucky barked and paused, startled. He got back his young voice. He hasn’t spoken in that tone for many, many years.

Rebecca yelled something back. He didn’t listen. He looked at her once again, not afraid she’d disappear, not nervous, or confused. He found the situation amusing.

“I’m comin’ up, open the door”, he shouted. Becca grimaced at him, and vanished inside the room.

 He entered the house.

The blackness wouldn’t go away. He walked, and walked, and walked, and his footsteps only echoed harder. Finally, a pale blue light shone somewhere far in front, and he swore in disappointment. Couldn’t you give me five minutes with my sister? He had no idea to whom he was speaking. Howbeit, no one answered. He walked on, and his face started freezing. He became soft back there in Wakanda. It was a magical place. Good climate, nice, tactful people, the amazing nature, calm nights. He mended goats, for god’s sake. He drank water from the current, and ate fruit that he gathered himself, climbing up the trees like a big monkey. He watched sunrises like it was a TV show. But better. Much better. He seemed to have forgotten a little bit what it’s like when the freezing wind thrusts its icy fangs in skin. And slaps. And slaps. Trying to pendulum him the fuck off the cliff.

He reached out for the gun, but realized he literally just threw it away in Brooklyn. Since he decided to accept everything as it comes, he just went on, averting his face from the wind. Soon his feet were producing no more sound because he was ankles deep in snow. The huge maw of a cave opened agape, letting him out, and he could figure out the station down below in the snowy valley. A tingling feeling of alarm woke up his senses, and he made out, in the wind, the voices. As if somebody licked on his neck under the left ear, he turned exactly when a bullet whistled past him and danged on a rocky wall. He bent. A man was walking towards him, tall and broad-shouldered, and Bucky grouped, ready for the blow. But then, another voice came,

“Stop, wait!”

Bucky raised his head like a squirrel. Steve came out of the whirlwind of the snow, and attacked him with a bear hug.

“Steve?” he heard himself mumble.

Steve was wearing that light blue uniform he had back in forties. His face was alight, innocent and infinitely stupid-looking in this helmet with feathers on the sides.

“Hey, what the hell is going on?” Bucky cried, trying to outhowl the wind. Steve moved closer to him, frowning.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you dressed like this? Why are you at my station?”

Dum Dum stepped from behind his back, and Bucky greeted him with the wave of the hand.

“Hey, Sarge. Sorry for shooting at you. I thought you were one of these Nazi folks”.

Bucky could see his own breath leaving his lips and dispersing violently in the air right after. So, none of them was confused to see him here, the way he looked? Guess, we’re good with that as well?

Steve was smiling at him, his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“I know, it’s darn confusing here”, he nodded with understanding. “But you’ll cope. I think they’re coming for you. Just don’t get on the pan”.

“Where – here?”

The wind was going mad. Bucky could feel it push him in the back. He realized Steve was standing dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.

Steve lifted his hand and touched his temple with the index finger.

“It’s quite a mash-up. Don’t get on the pan, pal. Don’t let them fry you, or there’ll be nothing to recover”.

The Commandos passed them by ceremonially, swaying in the wind like a set of train cars.

“Can I come with you?”

Steve shook his head negatively.

“Nah, Bucky. Not today”.

He was left there, watching his friend slowly vanishing in the white. Barnes could feel his face go hard like ice, and didn’t care. He suddenly felt so heart-broken, and the feeling stroke him so deep he gasped in surprise. The pain, so clear, like the main note of a symphony, moaning high and sharp, tensing his whole body. The heartbreak. He felt so alive he wanted to scream, yell until the snow plugs his throat and suffocates him, and if there had been some fun to standing below the windows of his house in Brooklyn, this strange sensation perished as quickly as it came.

Bucky opened his mouth and growled, with all his wolf might, wishing he could wake up.

He screamed.

And wake up he did.

The sun was stinging his eyes, and he slapped his stupid face, giggling to himself for no reason at all. He was warm, and naked, and the air from the open window brought the scent of summer in New York. He could smell concrete, grass, and flowers. He could smell his own skin, warmed up by the intense sunshine – it must be past noon already. He got fried after all, despite Steve’s warning.

He could smell something else – very familiar. Sweet fragrance that always hit his nose when the long-haired Y/N was close. He took away his hand and opened his eyes, lifting himself on his left elbow. Happiness flooded his mind when he saw her hair spread and caught underneath his metal arm.

She yelped in pain.

“I’m sorry”, he laughed, “I’m sorry”.

She opened her face like she’s just been created a second ago, even after her hair has been laid out in the bed.

He reached out to her with his good hand, grabbing her skin and found he’s clutching on her ribs.

“Are you hurt?” he asked. Y/N pulled her face closer, burying her head in the puffed pillow.

“No, only scalped. Why?”

“I thought you’ve been stabbed, little one”.

Her hands traced the lines of his back, and he felt shivers jumping joyfully on his shoulder blades. He laid back on his side, pulling his left arm under her pillow, and sighed contentedly.

“You must’ve dreamt that. I’m sure I’d notice if I’d been stabbed”.

Her voice was like a very slow chorus of a church bell, going straight to his brain and soothing it into sleep. He couldn’t see half of her face and was growing wary of it. Bucky lifted himself up again and caught her in his arms, flipping her over so that she’d face the window. Her fingers clutched his skin like she was falling. That was the best feeling. He’d recalled that first time he covered her up because she would be so forgetful of the things around her in the field. Shoot me, I don’t even care. The feeling of her hanging on to him, grabbing his sides like she was drowning, like he was her only way to survival, had never left him, even when he lost the memory of her voice. When she disappeared for two years he was bringing back that moment, and holding on to it, ironically, like his life depended on it.

She was stroking his face gently, like she was forbidden to actually touch him. Like he could say no to her, or push her away. With all his will and strength gathered, Barnes considered it hard. No one has touched him this way for nearly eighty years. He traced her body down her thigh and then up again, counting her ribs. One was missing.

“Maybe you’ll be the one to tell me where I am”.

Y/N was lying next to him like a mermaid, her skin taking in the light from the window. Bucky saw the room behind her, but couldn’t pay much attention.

“Where do you think you are?”

“Not in Wakanda”.

She shook her head slowly, caressing his neck.

“Not home”.

Another negative.

“Not in Siberia”.

“M-hm”.

“But this is not real either”.

“How do you know?”

“The real Y/N wouldn’t let me in”.

She went sore.

“It’s too good to be true”, Bucky went on indifferently, ignoring the light shivers between his bones. His affection boiled bright pink in his throat, and he barely could hear himself speak behind the sound of wanting to open her mouth with his fingers and put his tongue inside. While he could. He didn’t have time to reach Rebecca. And the snowstorm didn’t let him change Steve’s mind. Something told him he wouldn’t have time to cover those six inches between them.

“You know I always try to take care of you”, Y/N said.

“Uh-huh”.

“How are you feeling?”

Bucky sighed and forced himself to look into her eyes.

“Alive. But hurt. It’s good, I guess. It’s different now”.

“Why are you- ” 

He felt the bed pushed away from beneath him before she could finish. He bumped his head on the floor hard, like he was falling for a very long time. He clutched his fists and felt something soft and wet in his palms. Bucky grunted angrily, breathing like an animal, and sunk his teeth into his lip, almost tearing it. Enough!

taglist: @shelbyyychristian

@csigeoblue

@theshortegg

@wickidlady

@hades-raven

@sammysgirl1997

[gorkboy]

I Used To Hold Water

"And we'd have to have a garden, right?"

Her words nearly passed right through me as I flipped through Homeowners Weekly. "God- yeah! Have you ever grown anything before?" "Nah, but I'll learn. My maw used to have a garden out back the villa before she kicked it. She grew tomatoes and potatoes and shit."

"Oh, sweet!" I reflected back with excitement. "You could take care of that and I could take care of the animals and whatever."

I continued turning to pages that were especially green and pointing out the floral, vine covered, isolated one-stories out to her.

I paused for a second while she looked away to her laptop. "Would we have internet?"

"Cottages don't need internet, Claudia," she replied with a wry smile.

I let out an echo of a laugh, blowing air out of my nose. "What if we're getting nuked or some shit? We'd probably need to know that beforehand."

"Hmmmm," she hummed before tossing her hair back and looking up at me. "Isn't it better not to know? Plus, once we've gotten out of this fuckin' place and gone to college and stuff, who knows what the world'll be like? Maybe more nukes, maybe less nukes. Maybe no nukes. We dunno."

I thought about this for a second. "We'll worry about it then."

"Yeah! We'll worry about it then. For now we just have to get into college. As backup and stuff."

I smiled back at her. "And after all of that, if all goes well, we can just leave it all behind."

Her eyes darted to my furrowed eyebrows, and she leaned in. "We'll be different. We'll make it."

"We will."

Lamb-peach filet topped with basil and a side dish of escargot. Oil must be prepared ahead of time and aerated in the fryer. Then, it should be applied to three individual pans - two medium and one large. Escargot requires aging, and should be purchased on Tuesday and placed in individual mason jars in a cellar, preferably with two to three small holes in the top. The filet itself requires intimate knowledge of both flavoring and cooking mechanics, all of which can be found in Missus Fordham's Guide to the Millenial Kitchen. The filet must be cooked in the large pan over a wood stove, but the seasonings must be treated with great care to not mix with the filet before it has been cooked thoroughly. Joshua has me cook it to a well-done consistency, tending towards a more raw well-done than a more cooked one.

He also has me cook it for him every Friday, which means that this massive undertaking occurs at least once a week. Finding the ingredients is difficult, and grocery stores, while open, run the risk of sullying your reputation with the HOA, which advocates for organic and god-fearing . I prepare intermediate meals while at the NCA with the other women of Ardleigh Street, but most of my work during the week revolves around making this one meal for him. He's relatively easy to appease and is generally forgiving if things aren't up to his standards, but on Fridays, after his "long work week," he can be a vicious reviewer. I'll say nothing else about this.

We have two kids. I am a member of our local YMCA. I am a member of our Neighborhood Cooking Association. I like to watch the television show that comes out each week. My kids play soccer. They're fine at it. We have two sets of friends - they are both couples, and they are both parents. They are the parents of our kids' friends, one parent couple for each respective kid friend. Every other Thursday we'll meet at their house for light snacks.

I still think about Eryn sometimes while I'm doing laundry. I think about what could've happened if we hadn't separated back then. I think about what I'll do once women can open their own bank accounts again. Maybe I'll visit her.

I almost did drive out and visit her. It was late at night and I had put the kids to bed and Joshua was out at work. I opened the car door, started the ignition, and backed out of the driveway onto a quiet, empty street. I got to the stop sign, and then I started circling our block, building up the courage to make that trek to Cleveland. I circled again and again, a fresh set of clothes and toiletries in the car, cash money in my wallet, and a forged unaccompanied travel permission slip. Maybe I could divorce Joshua one day. Maybe they'd bring back gay marriage, or someone would at least be willing to do an unofficial one. Maybe things won't be like this for much longer at all. My eyes started to glaze over, and my head started to feel heavy.

I pulled back into our driveway. I got out of the car, put my things back in the house, and I went to bed.

When he gets home, he hangs up his jacket by the door and comes into the kitchen. He'll smell like sulfur and copper. He'll wheeze when he walks. He'll look at me through the poorly illuminated space between us, and he'll wait.

"How was your day, honey?" I'll say.

"It was good," he'll reply. "How about yours?"

"It was good."

[wuschwusch]

“...I have been angry for a long time.

The shoulder rubs and lower back strokes, running fingers through my hair like I’m your wife or your hooker or your dog. Getting talked over, interrupted, shouted down, called ‘honey’ or ‘sweetie’ in tones dripping derisive and disrespectful, lobbing a pitch that splats unacknowledged only to have a dude say the same thing 15 minutes later to raucous approval like I’m a mute. Like my voice was never there. The hollers from passing cars, men standing too close, rubbing up against me on the subway, not hearing ‘no’ until it’s shouted, then spitting “bitch” out their bruised maw. I could go on and on and on but I don’t have to because for days and weeks and months and years women have been filling your eyes and ears with story after story of all the ways this never ends. We have been telling you and telling you. We shouldn’t have to tell you anymore.

I have been angry for a long time.

It starts on the inside — I must have done something wrong. It’s just me. I’m so stupid. I must be crazy. For some women it stays inward, forever. For others it begins to work its way out — It’s just her, she’s so stupid, she must be crazy. She should have known better. I would have handled it differently. What did she expect? Then there are those of us who get angry enough to rip the blindfold off and realize —

All around us is a civilization that for thousands of years has been built to funnel power to men. It isn’t personal, and it isn’t about any individual, this is the world, functioning as intended. Much of this has been inscribed in laws that we have only begun to dismantle. Marriage was long an economic instrument to consolidate wealth and power among men. Women in the US have had the vote for less than a hundred years. We weren’t allowed to open bank accounts or take out loans with out a man’s cosign until 1972. Marital rape wasn’t illegal in all 50 states until 1993. And of course we’re still legislating women’s access to health care. These are but an amuse bouche of the smorgasbord of institutionalized diminishments of women’s power that have been served to us over the centuries.But if it were only institutional barriers that blocked our path to power, we would have flipped this script generations ago. Our greatest challenge is not changing law or policy, it’s changing the stories we tell and, by extension, our understanding of ourselves.

Stories are empathy machines. Films, novels, television shows, and plays are considered successful when they make us feel, when they take us on a journey with a character. They suggest a path we might walk in a similar circumstance, offer us a road map to move through challenge and adversity. Across thousands of years of western culture we have been relentlessly repeating stories that revolve around men. It all begins with him and it is to him all our empathy flows. From man, woman is made. She supports him or brings him low, but the adventures are his, he is the hero. She is the prize, the conquest, the safety waiting to welcome him home. He is driven by multitudes of wants and needs. She is driven by the need to couple with a man. These stories insist our institutional choices are the order of things, the way of the world, that all this air was already here. But it wasn’t. We dreamt it up, then forgot it wasn’t true. We bent reality around us.

And here we are, still lucid dreaming, convinced we’ve woken up…

By the time I joined the “Halt and Catch Fire” writers room two years ago, my default position with men in professional settings was one of mistrust. These dudes around this new writers room table, genuine as they seemed and as much as I liked them, were bound to disappoint me. I was sure of it. I could write a tome on how wrong I was, but suffice it to say, I now trust those men more than most. How I came to is family business, but everything you need to know is on the screen, in 40 episodes of television, 20 of which I helped craft.

It is a show about five people, Cameron and Donna and Gordon and Joe and Bos, navigating the personal computing revolution, beginning in the Silicon Prairie and ending in Silicon Valley. This, from Laura Hudson at Wired, is the best distillation of the shows themes I’ve seen:

Human beings are the signal, and everything else is just noise. This is Halt and Catch Fire’s most radical message, the one the tech industry would do well to heed as the online world grows more toxic and depersonalized with every passing day. Computers were and are nothing more than tools, boxes of beautiful ideas that are only as valuable as they are human — ones whose connections can destroy us as easily as they can draw us together, if we are not careful. But at their best, they can connect us with the thing that really matters: the people who will stand with us on the precipice of our lives, gazing down at the chasm of the next challenge, and hold our hands as we jump into the unknown.

Ain’t that the truth. What goes unmentioned there is the way in which the women of the show are full, rich and complicated humans who drive the story with wants and needs that have little to do with their relationships with men and a whole lot to do with their relationship with each other — a friendship which is as intimate and important as any romantic relationship. This shouldn’t be radical. This is a reflection of real life. Women want all sorts of things that have nothing to do with men, and our friendships are deeper, and more complicated and interesting than the vast majority of what’s portrayed on TV. Try something for me, list all the female friendships that have been the primary driver of story for three or more seasons of television and never involved romantic conflict over a man. Ilana and Abbi. Patsy and Edina. I didn’t really watch Buffy. Maybe her and Willow? And I can’t think of a single friendship between two women of color that’s consistently driven story. I’m stumped… Now let’s list the buddy comedies and cop shows that have been driven by a friendship between two men.

Cameron and Donna were radical.

The stories we told on Halt were possible because the two men who created the show continuously do the work to acknowledge and overcome all the oblivious, habitual, quotidian ways men diminish the power of women, and they built a writers room where those things didn’t happen. It wasn’t an accident. It was intentional. And it was the best room any of us had ever been in. Somewhere along the way of uncovering the final chapter of these characters’ story, I swept my gaze around the writers room table and my heart got full up with love and gratitude. I realized that after nearly 20 years in this business, I’d let my heart get hard. This experience had softened it. I didn’t know I’d been braced for brawling until I un-balled my fists. So much energy I’d been expending, protecting myself from threats real and perceived. How much better my work was, how much better my life was, when I could make my way unarmed. It felt so good not to be angry.

What more might women be able to accomplish if we weren’t in a never ending struggle to justify our existence and prove our worth? What dreams might we have? What new worlds might we create?

...

It matters what stories we tell ourselves. It matters what stories we tell each other. Stories, repeated relentlessly, become immutable truths. It matters what stories we tell.

...

Because this is on the storytellers. The creators of culture. The weavers of collective imagination. The projectors of the shadows on the cave wall. This is on us, any and all who have access to speakers and screens, keyboards and paper, and a platform to reach a multitude. We are not the pioneers in this field. We didn’t dream up Eve with her yen for a bite of that apple, but we’ve repeated her story relentlessly. Maybe she’s the femme fatale, her power coming from her body, her sex and sin, her ability to destroy, deceive, and ruin. Or maybe she’s a source of life and inspiration, pure and virgin births, a caretaker of men. All About Eve begets Working Girl begets Showgirls. There can be only one. No, it didn’t start with Hollywood, but we are the ones who turned myth making into an economic engine, spreading its influence outside the bounds of our own culture, wrapping the world in our stories. Repeating the same ones over and over and over again. Relentless. To not acknowledge our power, to not take it seriously, to shirk the work of understanding it, to be unconscious in the way we wield it, is to run the risk of doing immense damage.

Of course Hollywood is culpable in Harvey Weinstein’s reign of terror. I’d be surprised if you could find an industry in the world that hasn’t protected a man like that, but there aren’t many industries with as much power as we have to remake reality. We squander this power. Relentless, we repeat the same stories, reinforcing the myriad imbalances that pump injustice into the lives of millions. It is not just women who suffer because of Hollywood’s oblivion of the role we play in people’s psyches and our collective unconscious, every single person who’s not a white dude pays the price.

I used to feel sheepish about discussing the work we do in this way. I was afraid people would find it self-aggrandizing or overblown. But Donald Trump is now president of the United States. And what is he if not the same story, repeated relentlessly, until people believed it to be so. How dare we deny our power now?

...

Fatherhood was likely near the front of their minds when creators Chris Rogers and Chris Cantwell put together the big idea document for the final season. Cantwell’s wife was pregnant with their second kid, and Rogers’s wife was pregnant with their first, so it wasn’t surprising that they wanted to consider the possibility that two of our characters might have a baby together. As they’ve told it, my response was, “No fucking way.” As I remember it, I offered more of a, “I hate it so much and here are all the thoughtful and clearly stated reasons why it would break my heart”. Every woman in the room was in agreement. We debated it off and on for days —

They were drawn to it because it was an interesting story for him. And on that we all agreed. It was something we believed he wanted. And we felt that discovery was surprising and interesting considering all he’d been through. But we also agreed she was definitely not someone who’s ever wanted kids. And we agreed that she probably shouldn’t have them, not at this moment in her life anyway. And that she’s probably not the kind of person to be careless with her birth control but okay, there are ways around that, so let’s say there’s an accident and it becomes a question of whether or not to have an abortion… She could be in a place in her relationship where she’d feel compelled to keep the kid. And if she did, she’d figure it out, like a lot of women do, and of course she’d love it. But would their relationship last? Probably not. And would she be a good mom? Probably not.

Were we really going to end the story of this brilliant, immature but growing, huge-hearted, alien iconoclast with her choosing to have a kid and marry the guy, something she’s never wanted, because it was an interesting story for him? No. Of course not. Cantwell and Rogers didn’t make the choice because it was the best choice for the sisterhood, they made the choice because it was the best choice for the character. Doing right by the sisterhood was the result of a balance of power in the room. It is not enough to have equal representation, the women in the room have to have an equal voice.

I am a middle class white woman from Texas. Donna and Cameron were middle class white women from Texas. Our stories are not nearly enough. We need more stories from all sorts of women — black, white, brown, first generation immigrants from eastern Europe, Navaho from a reservation, Muslims, Jamaicans, Ashkenazi jews, rich and poor, young and old — all thriving in places and roles where they’re not usually seen on screens, but where they do exist out in the real world. We need more stories of women who are driven by rounded and complicated relationships to all sorts of other people, some of whom might occasionally be men. More stories of women in which they build and wield power in unexpected ways. We need more of these stories. Hundreds of thousands of them. Millions. And we need to repeat them relentlessly.

...”

[kissofmidnight]

The Kiss of Death

Chapter One (link to A03) 

Summary: Come to me, as our inhibitions crumble. Please don't fear me. The flightless bird dreams of a sky. Whose colors blend into the wrong shade of red. I tried to block out the banging on my door. Are you the one banging on it? Or is it someone else?

Will your lips taste the kiss of death?

-Kiss of Death written by Hyde

Pairing: Bjorn/Female OC of Color 

Warnings: Adult content and Adult Language, 18+ only, nsfw

Words: 994

A/N: Hello! I finished reading the Vinland Saga manga a while ago and I've been wanting to make a fanfic for the longest time. So here it is! The story is pre-manga storyline (so basically its a story before the actual VS story begins). It's kind of my take on what Askeladd and his gang may have been up to before the original timeline events. My inspiration for the story is based on the song Kiss of Death. If you're not caught up in the anime or manga, I'd suggest at least catching up on the first season of Vinland or the prologue portion of the manga.

                                                         Bjorn 

She’s staring at him again. 

Those bright eyes, like pools of honey in the sunlight, stare at him unabashed. Any other time he would have looked away and cursed himself for the warmth he felt in his face and in his loins. Her eyes are beautiful, unlike anything he had ever seen. But she is an easy woman to spot in a crowd. He had never seen someone with skin darker than his own. He’d likened it to warm cinnamon, contrasted by the pitch blackness of her curly hair. And her hair is so long, reaching all the way to a round bottom. Her womanly curves are more prominent than any woman he’d ever seen and often he would dream of his fingers caressing along smooth skin.

She sits across from him on a wooden box, the blaze of the campfire and blackness of night create strong shadows and highlights along her face. Bjorn remembered the first time he’d ever laid eyes on the ‘Witch’, that’s what the men had taken to calling her. His comrades are rather boisterous; some are gathered around one another and retell stories of battle valors, and others converse about a potential war.

It’d been two weeks since the woman joined their band; Bjorn had been entirely against it, still is, but the captain was sure in his decision. She claims to be a healer, and if there’s any truth to war approaching then maybe she would prove useful. But so far she’s only proved to be a pain in his side. He hates when she stares at him. 

“Stop looking at me.” he says aloud, not once breaking her eye contact. Her lips curl into a mischievous smile. The hulk of a mastiff lying at her feet suddenly perks up, staring up at his master. 

“You’re the one looking at me.” she says back, the flames dance in her honey eyes. 

Bjorn grits his teeth and forces away a pulse of anger, “I don’t know what game you’re playing at, woman, but I refuse to be a player in it.” he’d seen her do it to the other men. Make them seem like they were crazy. And anyone who went to Askeladd about her behaviour, the captain brushed them off. Bjorn wouldn’t allow her to mess with him; he is the second in command for a reason. 

“I’m not playing at anything,” she reaches down and scratches under the mastiff’s dark maw. “You intrigue me, is that so wrong?” 

Bjorn feels it again, that rush of warmth spreading in his face and pelvis. He decides to ignore her and tries to find entertainment in the flickering of the flames. 

“Don’t you want to know why?” her voice is soft and low.

He refuses to look at her, “Why what?” 

“Why I think you’re intriguing?” 

He shouldn’t care and mentally scolds himself as his eyes glance at her. Her sleeved dress covers most of her skin, but the fabric fits a little too well. The collar dips, creating a V at the start of her cleavage. 

“Why.” 

Her smile widens, “You do what you’re told.” 

Bjorn stands, feeling anger flare inside him like an erupting geyser. In just two steps, he’s close enough to the woman to stare down at her. He is a large man, larger than all his comrades. Most men are intimidated by his height alone, but this woman, this insufferable woman, just smiles up at him as if there’s a shred of innocence in her body. The mastiff at her feet stares up at him; Bjorn didn’t particularly like dogs, but he and the mastiff had grown on each other. The dog sniffs at his feet then stands and stretches before trotting away. 

“I’m sorry. I think you took that as an insult,” the woman says, “It’s a good trait to have.” she stands and to his utter shock she grasps his hands. Her skin feels like the petals of a flower. And now that she’s so close her scent, an earthy yet sweet musk, makes his trousers feel unbearably tight. Bjorn should not have approached her like this.  

“I don’t know how to obey very well… perhaps you could give me a lesson someday?” her expression shows nothing but sweetness, even as she walks away from him. Leaving him with his thoughts. 

He should never have approached her. 

“That one is going to eat you alive, friend,” his captain’s voice is like a safety net thrown into perilous waters. Bjorn turns around, finding Askeladd not too far off sitting against a tree. The older man spins a dagger in his hands, expertly twirling the blade along his fingers. “I’d be careful if I were you.” 

“She’s a woman,” Bjorn says, “And I don’t understand why you let her travel with us.”

“Kara is a healer. A good one at that,” Askeladd stabs the dagger into the ground, “Uncle Gorm vouches for her, and that old bastard rarely uses nice words.”

“She was his thrall?” Bjorn queries. 

Askeladd laughs, “Hel herself would freeze this world before that woman becomes a thrall. She happened on his village a year ago. He claims she’s the best healer he’s ever seen.” 

“If that’s so, how’d you get your uncle to give her up?” 

“He doesn’t own her, Bjorn. Kara came to me, demanding to be a part of the band. Of course, with her skills, why would I say no. And uncle was absolutely livid,” Askeladd brushes his blonde goatee with his fingers, feeling along his mandible in thought, “But there’s something else about Kara. Before Gorm’s village, how did she manage on her own? A young pretty woman on the road, that in itself is like dangling meat for predators to take.” 

“Maybe she had help?” Bjorn suggests. 

“As far as I know, she came to the village alone… but maybe she did have help. I don’t know, I’m just an old man with a withering memory.”

A/N: Thanks for reading!