#oh damn when trying to find another interview i remembered i found my own comment as a reference

[hanzajesthanza]

something like that… at least, it was intentional on his part

I love Angoulême she’s one of my favorite lesser known witcher characters

but I hate that her name is Angoulême, I can’t search for her character I just get the city in France, and even after hearing how it’s said in the audiobook I can’t pronounce it

Like did Sapkowski just point randomly to a map of Europe and wrote down the first name he saw

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 5

More people said yes to Hannigram, which is good because Will is already involved in the plot and it would be awkward to have him just disappear. Also, I had someone request a Hannigram x reader in my asks. Apologies to the one person who voted no; I promise there will be more solo Hannibal x reader content in the future.

Hannibal decides to that y/n could do with some extra protection, but doesn’t anticipate what she has to tell him.

I have no idea how to make a proper tag list but @deadman-inc-bikeshop and @dovahdokren here you go 

Trigger warnings: discussions of alcohol, victim blaming

“When I saw his face, I immediately knew he had never once experienced the touch of his own hand, let alone that of a woman.” Charissa read out loud to everyone on staff. “Or, that he was buried so deep in the closet he found Narnia, but those two things aren’t mutually exclusive.” 

It was expected to be a slow night, as was normal for an ordinary Tuesday. On nights like those, you could get away with more, like reading a tabloid article out loud for everyone to hear. 

“I can’t believe [F/N] actually went public.” One of the new busboys commented. “What an absolute madlad.”  

“Did you just unironically use reddit terminology in an actual conversation?” You narrowed your eyes at the kid. 

“[F/N], you are making a very dangerous enemy.” An older waitress said, cryptically, from the corner of the room. 

“Who, Jason?” You gestured to the busboy. “What’s he gonna do? Make me cringe myself to death?” 

“You know that’s not who I mean.” She frowned. “I’m talking about Chase Mulvaney.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You shook your head. “He’s not stupid enough to come back here.” 

Charissa made a noise that denoted her doubt. “I dunno, [F/N]. You’d have to be pretty stupid to start stabbing people at a crowded restaurant in broad daylight.” 

“But he was smart enough to get away, right?” Jason asked. “That’s gotta count for something!” 

You and Charissa exchanged glances. Neither of you had the emotional bandwidth to explain white privilege again. Instead, you just humored him. 

“Yeah.” Charissa lied. “He was smart enough to get away, meaning he probably knows better than to come back.”

"You're kidding yourself." A third waitress, who's name you couldn't seem to place, added. "People always say that killers are these galaxy-brained superhumans, but they're not. Mulvaney believes he's divinely ordained, so any thought that pops into his coked-out head is a sign from god."

And so shattered your thin firmament of denial. You made a point to never learn this person's name just out of spite.

“Oh, shit.” You said, trying to hide your genuine fear with a sarcastic voice. “Maybe he is coming back for me.” 

Charissa glared at the two other waitresses, equally pissed at them for scaring you.

"And it'll be your own fault for provoking him with that article." The older waitress said.

"Holy victim-blaming, batman." You mumbled.

“Alright, listen up, y’all.” Matthew announced to the group. “In ten minutes we open for dinner. Remember, if you want to switch shifts with another person, you have to run it by me first. I don’t want to see anybody but [F/N] at the bar tonight, capiche?”

“Yessir.” You saluted him and made your way over to the bar. You’d been doling out your bartending shifts left and right to avoid even the possibility of being cornered by another Freddie Lounds. You were only prolonging the inevitable, though. Eventually, you needed to return to the bar.

You passed the hostess's stand, where Charissa was stationed. Suddenly, you felt someone grab at your arm.

"Fucking hell, dude?!" You flinched violently and your heart rate jumped. "Don't do that!"

"Shit, sorry!" Charissa looked immediately regretful. "But, look!"

You followed her gaze through the window where a fancy car was parked. He leaned against the door, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt.

Now your heart was beating fast for a completely different reason. You squeezed Charissa's hand, trying to keep a lid on your nervous excitement.

"I think your luck's starting to turn." She said in a sing-songy voice.

"Yeah, I bet he'll protect me from the Baltimore Butcher." You whispered, trying not to giggle like an elementary school girl.

"Oh, could you imagine those arms around you?" She sighed deeply, her hand firmly against her chest. "I would die."

"Not until he sinks his teeth into your neck." You smirked, gnashing your teeth together.

"I would let him." She rested her chin on her hand.

"Yeah, me too." You agreed.

"I would give anything to trade shifts with you." Charissa groaned.

"Well, you heard the boss." You shrugged, suddenly feeling much better about your assignment. "I gotta stay behind the bar."

"Oh, pobrecita." Charissa rolled her eyes. Underneath the stand, she put up her middle finger in your direction. "Suck a dick, [L/N]."

You walked backwards towards the bar, keeping your eyes on your friend. "That's the plan, baby."

You tried to make yourself look busy. You dared not look at him as he entered the restaurant.

He exchanged pleasantries with Charissa then took his seat at the bar. You pretended not to notice him right away, only to give you an extra second to compose yourself.

"Hi there." You greeted, knowing you'd feel stupid no matter what you said. "Er- good evening."

"[F/N] [L/N], I assume?" He asked.

Fuck, you thought. His voice was dark, low and made your insides tremble. Even though part of you knew he was going to know your name, it still felt so sensual passing his lips.

You realized you had waved to him with your bandaged hand. That's how he was about to identify you so quickly. "Yes, I am she. I mean- her. Me."

Way to go, dumbass. You thought. Now he knows you're nervous and he's going to wonder why.

“God, I need to stop wearing this damn thing.” You said, clearing your throat. “What can I get for you tonight?” 

He was quiet for a moment. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, that depends." You said, pulling your gaze from him and grabbing a few wine glasses down from a high shelf. It was the only way you could maintain your composure.

"On?"

"What you're having for dinner, for one." You said. "And whether or not you're a vulpine tabloid journalist trying to corner me into a dubiously ethical interview. That's also a factor."

"So that's how Miss Lounds wore you down?" He concluded. "With wine?"

You rested your elbows on the bar, filled with an intoxicating confidence. "She tried wine first. Then she tried to get me fired because she asked for chardonnay and I brought her chablis. And when that didn't work, she siphoned my gas."

"I wish I could say that was out of character for her." He looked at you, apologetically.

"I take it you've had your own run-ins with Freddie?" You smiled.

"She's tried to infiltrate my practice multiple times." He sighed. "She's entered my office under a fake name with a recording device in her purse."

"What a sick fuck." You said, before remembering you really weren't supposed to curse in front of customers. You covered your mouth. "Sorry."

The corners of his mouth turned up into an amused smile. "Don't apologize. You're right."

“So you’re a doctor?” You asked, hoping he wasn’t the type to be offended by questions. 

“I’m a psychiatrist.” He nodded. “I used to work as a surgeon, but I find the mind much more compelling.” 

"Seriously, though." You pushed yourself back to your feet. "What can I get for you?"

He eyed the wine menu and then looked back at you. "What is your favorite red?"

"My favorite red?" You placed your hand on your collarbones. "On a night like this, I enjoy a nice, dry Argentinean Malbec."

"In that case," he thumbed through the list once more. "I'll have a bottle of Cobos Chañares from 2016, please."

You smiled. You wouldn't mind taking a sip of that if he offered. "Right away."

You carefully pulled the solid black bottle from its crevice and placed it on the bar. You removed the plastic seal and reached for the corkscrew. The bottle opened with a satisfying pop, filling the air around you with the strong, complex and seemingly contradictory aromas.

You poured a bit of this criminally expensive wine into his glass. He smelled it, then swirled it for a moment before taking a sip.

"Redcurrants and vanilla," he began. "With floral notes that operate with the precision of interlocking gears in a clock. Everything in its place."

"So you're a sommelier and a poet?" You tilted your head and filled his glass. "I'll bet you make women swoon at every corner."

You never had the best grasp on flirting, but even you knew that line was awful.

“Are you flirting with me, Miss [L/N]?” He asked, clearly not too worried about the consequences and enjoying the flattery. “Or are you just trying to get a taste of this Malbec?” 

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.” You shrugged. “Though you are as handsome as everyone says, I’ve had my eyes on that wine for slightly longer.” 

You fought the urge to slap your hand over your mouth. You had just broken the cardinal rule of workplace gossip. Panic reverberated through your body as you tried to break down his unreadable expression. 

Once again, he just looked amused. “I’ve seen those lingering glances, the way you all whisper and giggle. It’s flattering.” 

You felt your cheeks growing hot. “...I see.” 

“If you tell me what they say about me, I’ll let you have a taste.” His eyes bored into yours. 

You paused, trying to decipher exactly what he was offering. Then it hit you. 

“Oh!” You interjected. “The wine.” 

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” He said. “Dare I ask where your mind went?” 

Your cheeks stung from all the uncomfortable smiling. “I’d really like to keep my job, thanks.” 

“Have you never heard of bartender-client confidentiality?” His voice lowered and his eyes found your lips. “Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls.” 

Your insides turned to jelly. He rested the wine glass in his hand and offered it to you. Your hands shaking, you cradled the glass like an 18th century French village prostitute being offered a mug of hot soup. You brought the glass to your lips, the strong, overwhelming smells assaulting your orifices.

You let the wine grace your tongue. You had taught yourself to overcome the sting of the alcohol and focus on the undertones. Your eyes rolled back in to your head and you let out a little noise of pleasure. 

“Christ on a bike, that’s decadent.” You said, gasping for air a little bit. You quickly passed the glass back to him before Matthew could see you. “Thank you.” 

“Now, indulge me.” He instructed, glancing at the fresh pink lipstick mark on his glass. “What do the lovely women of Terroir whisper while I’m just out of earshot?” 

You rested your elbows on the bar and leaned in close. “They say you’re a vampire.” 

Judging by his unchanging neutral expression, it clearly wasn’t the first time someone had made that connection. “Perhaps they’re on to something.” 

“One of our line cooks used to say you were the devil.” You informed him, hoping that was one he hadn’t heard before.

“Used to?” He raised his eyebrows. 

“Until Chase Mulvaney came around.” You instinctively ran your fingers over your bandages, as if to make sure they were still there. It was a nervous tick you’d developed anytime someone brought up that day. “He’s stopped talking about, like, anything having to do with his religion ever since.” 

“It takes a lot to get an evangelist to stop evangelizing.” He refilled his glass. “Do you think he lost his faith?” 

“I heard someone say in passing that it was because he and Chase Mulvaney went to the same church.” You whispered. “But I can’t verify that.” 

“I’d say it’s more likely than a regular customer being a vampire, wouldn’t you?” 

“I wouldn’t trust their word because they made a regular customer into a vampire.” You corrected, hoping he would overlook the fact that you were one of them. “Secrets may stay within these four walls, but they tend to bounce around. It’s only a matter of time before one escapes, and you’d better hope it’s not one of yours.” 

This man must have been an exceptional therapist, because, there you were, baring your soul to him after fifteen minutes and one sip of wine. Occasionally, you were pulled away from the conversation by another customer who had the audacity to also want a drink. But, very few people came to you with the sole intent of drinking on a Tuesday evening. You and the sommelier talked until closing time. 

“Thank you for a lovely evening, Miss [L/N].” He said pulling out his wallet. “You are as delightful in person as you are on paper.” 

“Thank you, but I never caught-” you said, but stopped yourself. “I mean, you never gave me your name.” 

He signed his name on the paper check, then pulled out a fifty and unceremoniously handed it to you. “Now why would you want to ruin the mystery?” 

“Nothing we say tonight has to leave these four walls, remember?” You grinned and crossed your arms. “Come on, I won’t tell anyone.” 

He took the customer copy of the receipt and scribbled something down on it. He the folded it in half and slid it in your direction as if it contained nuclear launch codes. 

“Join me for dinner someday.” He ordered. “I’ll supply the Malbec.” 

[buckyownsmylife]

white winter hymnal - tom hardy smut

The one where you’re Tom’s PA and you two get snowed in.

Warnings: smut, boss/employee relationship, dirty talk, kind of sexist remarks?, that wasn’t my intention, but maybe that’s how you’ll see it, so I should warn you about it, reader is very sex positive in this fic, idiot in lust, PA!Reader, jealous!Tom, kinda possessive! or maybe asshole!Tom, again it wasn’t my intention, I just wanted to write some dirty talk, use of the term cockslut and another that I can’t remember, or maybe it was cockslut twice

A/N: I’m not really satisfied with this collage, but this will have to do 🤷‍♀️ Anyway, here’s another anon request I received a while back. Please take everything Tom says as nothing more than dirty talk. Also, I did that thing where I wrote a pre-POV intro, idk if it’s any good but when the inspiration hits, I just roll with it ✌

Y/N wasn’t having a good week at work. It wasn’t that something wrong had happened - actually when you considered the cold facts about what had left her feeling so high strung that a simple touch almost made her moan, anyone would think she was crazy. Those were nice things, good situations that she’d found herself in.

But she’d disagree emphatically. There was nothing nice about the fuck-me eyes with which Tom, her boss, had regarded her when she arrived on set with the pencil skirt that she knew made her ass look great. There was nothing nice about the way he’d commented on how she was out to get him, making his life more difficult because of the way she was dressing. There was nothing nice about how he had kept on complimenting her, telling her how pretty she looked with her hair down, or how he joked about how it must have hurt when she fell from heaven.

And especially, there was absolutely nothing nice about the subtle, fleeting touches he’d decided to shower her with, leaving her burning and more aroused than she cared to admit, considering how innocent they actually were. Tom had been flirting with her ever since her job interview, it was nothing new and she should have gotten used to it by now.

But the truth was that she didn’t, she couldn’t. And who could really blame her, when every day it seemed like Tom stepped up a notch, making it harder and harder for her to ignore his advances and keep things professional between them?

Especially considering just how badly she needed to get off and just how attracted she was to him and his stupidly perfect body and damn hypnotizing smirk. She was only human, after all. A human woman with healthy desires that seemed to revolve exclusively about her boss.

God, she was pathetic. At least, she could always count on Saturday nights. That was the time she managed to escape the acting world and the craziness of the set where they had been filming for the last month to go to the bar and find someone who’d take her home and help her deal with her growing levels of horny.

If it weren’t for random strangers who knew what to do in bed, she wasn’t too sure she wouldn’t have succumbed to Tom’s spell and climbed him like a tree already. And that’s where she was headed, just after she stopped by his rental house and went over their schedule for the week ahead.

She’d get through this, she thought as she made sure her coat was tightly wrapped around her waist before exiting her car and running towards the front door, ignoring the snow that had been lightly falling since that morning. Just two more hours and she would be on her way to drowning her needs in another stranger’s body, just to pretend that she didn’t think about Tom during the entire act.

Yeah. She could totally do this.

Tom was screwed.

He had been since he first laid his eyes on her, some five months ago, just before they moved to this fucking freezing country to start filming for his next movie. He knew even back then, he should have thanked her with a smile, explained that she wasn’t right for the job, and asked her out. The fact that she was the best person for the job shouldn’t even have counted, because he was head over heels for her in that first meeting, how the fuck could he keep himself away when she was supposed to be working by his side every minute of every day?

In the end, the idea of having to wait until the end of filming to actually get to spend some time with her made him take the impulsive decision that led him to this situation. Having her so close, but nowhere near what he wished for.

It was hell on Earth. Especially since he knew she felt the same way, he could see it in her eyes, in the way she squeezed her thighs together every time he so much as looked her way. If only she wasn’t so unbelievably professional.

“Tom?” He heard her sweet voice calling out from downstairs and casted a glance at the window. The snow had been gradually building up since that morning, it was a surprise she had managed to reach his house in the first place. But of course, she would never let something as silly as the weather keep her away from her responsibilities.

With a low chuckle, he made his way to the living room, rubbing his hands together to create some warmth despite the heaters that were working overtime since he arrived at that house. It didn’t matter, it was still too fucking cold.

“Ready to go over your schedule?” He trailed his eyes over her body, taking notice of the dress she was wearing over the warm leggings. What day was it? Oh, right. Her day off started the minute she finished this one last task, and then she’d be off to…

He knew where she’d be off to. Thinking about it made him see red, especially since he didn’t have the opportunity to do the same where they were. He envied her, but he envied the lucky bastard that got to fuck her tonight even more.

“Of course,” was all he said, assuming a spot on the seat next to hers on the couch. She visibly tensed, but then threw him a small smile that seemed to try to ease her own nerves, to which he returned with a grin of his own.

“What are you all smiley about?” It was nice to see her more laidback, it was clear that the prospect of letting off some steam tonight was relaxing her. Tom could work with that. In fact, it just made his plans that much easier.

“I can’t imagine how someone could be near a woman as beautiful and not be happy, sweetheart.” Her smile immediately dropped, her eyes growing twice their size as he maintained his grin. “But let’s get on with it, shall we? I have a lot to plan out with you.”

She raised an eyebrow at his lack of interest in continuing to mess with her but shrugged it off before opening her planner. They did have a lot to talk about before she could finally leave to the nearest bar.

Tom chanced a glance out the window as she tried to locate their current week on her faithful notebook. This might just turn out the way he needed it to be.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Aaaand… I guess this finalizes your schedule for the next week,” I commented as I made sure to correct the time for a phone interview Tom would be having on the following Friday, before glancing up at him. He’d been mostly quiet for the last few minutes, a stark difference from how he had behaved during the entire meeting. Through all my time working for him, it had been the first time he was actually really present for the scheduling of his following week, making changes and trying to be sure that it would go as smoothly as he wanted it to be.

It wasn’t an unwelcome change, but it sure was peculiar. And by now, I knew him enough to get that there was definitely a hidden reason for him to be behaving this way. Still, I couldn’t yet grasp what it was that he had planned, so I resigned myself to getting through with what I intended to do for the day, and thankfully, that was now done.

“Well, if you won’t be needing me anymore, I’ll be getting out of your hair now.” I smiled softly down at him when I left the sofa, making quick work of my scattered papers and random pens before straightening out to say goodbye. “What?” I had to ask since he was looking at me like he was trying to contain his laughter.

“Well, first of all, sweetheart, I always need you. Perhaps not in the way you’re supposed to help with, according to your job description, but it’s the truth.” I had difficulty maintaining eye contact after that, opting to stare at the mountain of documents in my hands while I fidgeted from one foot to the other, feeling the arousal inside of me sparkle before starting to burn even more intensely. Why did he have to be so honest about wanting me?

“Second and perhaps most importantly… I think you’re stuck with me for the rest of the evening, love.” That made me look at him again, desperate to find any signs that he was only toying with my emotions, anything to show me that he was only playing. But all I got was a nod of his head, pointing towards the windows, and that’s when it hit me.

We were snowed in.

A lot of different feelings took over me at the realization. First, there was despair. What would I do now that I couldn’t go to the bar? Then, there was anxiety. How the fuck was I supposed to survive spending the night with my boss - to whom I was attracted to - in a house with a single room in it?

Finally, sheer panic set in, making me shake my head in frustration. I’d never be able to find enough control to resist him without the release that my weekly escapades granted me. And by the way he stared up at me, with those darkened eyes filled with lust, I could tell that he knew.

I watched with a trembling body as he slowly rose from the seat and made his way to me until we were chest to chest. His eyes ran up and down my body until they finally settled on mine again, and I had to bite down a whimper. 

That’s how weak I was for him. He could reduce me to a wanton mess with a fucking stare.

“You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question. Both he and I recognized it as a fact. Still, I whispered into the air between us, “Yes.” Immediately, he pressed on. “Of me?” I almost melted at the sight of such a burly, strong man, towering over me and devastated at the prospect of threatening me.

Tom’s P.O.V.

I waited for her answer with a heavy heart, but the hopeful expectation that she did actually feel just the same as I did: scared at the prospect of what could happen between us, but equally excited. 

“No.” I tilted my head at the word, curious as to what was her explanation, then.

“Then what?”

“Of what could happen if I let go of my control. Of what I would become.” Slowly, a smile took over my face, and I finally felt confident enough in her feelings to feel like I could touch her. So I raised my hands to hold her hips, rejoicing in just how small she was in comparison to me. It felt like I could very easily pick her up and take her - in whichever way I wanted. And there were a lot of them.

“Let go,” I whispered in her ear, having leaned down so I could compensate for our difference in height. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you without that precious control of yours.”

Goosebumps had spread all over her skin at the difference in temperature of my breath and her skin. I watched in fascination, following their trail, rubbing my nose across her jaw before finally, her lips were inches from mine. And then they were mine.

I possessed her mouth just like I’d fantasized for so long, desperate to make up for the lost time, for all the nights I spent alone thinking about her while she was off with someone else. And she responded just in kind, her arms barely able to embrace my body, but her palms were spread over my back, pulling me closer, and that was more than enough for me. 

For now, at least. Now that I’d captured her on my web, there was no way I was letting her go before I fulfilled each and every one of the dirty, dirty dreams I had about the two of us. I was going to ravish her. I was going to ruin her.

She let out a tiny whimper when I pried her lips open with my tongue, before melting in my arms as I explored her mouth, basked on her taste. “You know there’s no way I’m letting you go now, right?”

By the way she looked at me with hazy eyes, it was clear that there would be no resistance from her whatsoever. She was pliant and soft in my hands, easily following when I picked her up and climbed up the stairs to my room with her in my arms. And then, when she was on the bed, there was just no way I could control myself anymore, not even long enough to take off our clothes properly. So I just flipped her skirt up, before ripping apart her leggings and finding her underwear absolutely drenched for me.

“Fuck,” I whispered, already reaching out to rub my thumb over her nub, making her gasp and cry out for me. “I can smell you dripping through the fabric, sweetheart.” To my pleasure, she didn’t seem coy about it at all. 

Oh, no. My little assistant, the picture-perfect of professionality was licking her lips, frantically nodding to my indication. “For you, I’m always dripping for you.” A smirk took over my face at her confession, my cock hardening even more at hearing that while I was suffering silently all that time, so was she.

So I ripped her underwear to shreds, spreading my hands over the inside of her thighs to get the perfect view of that pussy that had been haunting my dreams. “Shit, I can’t wait to eat that.”  And with only those words as warning, I dove right in, attracted by the sweet smell that made my mouth water.

She was just as sweet as I thought, but the sounds with which she filled my bedroom were what drove me crazy. I couldn’t close my eyes to fully appreciate her taste, too transfixed by her beauty, unable to believe that I finally had her, that it was her pussy I was currently lapping.

“Damn, look at you,” I hummed against her clit, making her jerk and try to pull away for a split second before I threw an arm over her hips to secure her position. “You fought so hard against your instincts, only to end up right here, spread open for me.”

With each word that left my lips, she seemed to get closer and closer to her release. “And to think you could have had my mouth on you all this time. Tell me, darling, do you think a stranger could make you feel better? Were any of the people you fucked, trying to ignore our connection, this great at making you cum?”

I could feel her muscles quiver under the soft skin of the inside of her thigh, and I doubled my efforts on her pussy, determined to see her cum at least once before I finally got my cock in her. It was throbbing now, begging for any sort of attention, but I was too transfixed by the sight of her reaching her high, the way her chest heaved as I quickly rubbed her clit with my tongue before sucking it into my mouth.

“Gimme your cum, baby. C’mon. Been waiting so long to get you in my bed…” She came as I hummed against her, the sensations obviously flipping her over that edge. “Fuck, you’re sweet.”

I kept on slowly cleaning her up, mindful of not hurting her, as she struggled to get her breathing in check. Despite her sensitivity, I couldn’t get myself to part with her taste just yet, even considering the possibility of eating her out some more, making her cum one or two more times before I fucked her properly.

But that was all before she fractured my control with two simple sentences. “Want some help with that? I’ve really been looking forward to getting your cock in my mouth.” I hadn’t even realized that I had been grinding against the mattress as I pleasured her, just to relieve my needy member at least a little bit.

What I knew was that I most definitely would not be able to hold back enough to feel her mouth around me. At least this first time. So all she got was a growl as I pounced on her, forcing her to taste her cum as I kissed those gorgeous lips and held her knees open to accept my weight between them.

“Right now, I’m gonna fuck this little pussy until you’re sobbing for me, okay, love? If you beg nicely, I might let you taste me later.” She whimpered in response, and a smirk took over my face. “Wow, you really are cockdrunk for me, aren’t you sweetheart?” The whine I got only made me laugh, giving me a little bit more control to tease her some more.

“You think you’re ready for me?” I asked, pressing the head of my cock against her clit, rubbing it with my member. “Are you sure you can handle my dick, darling?” Watching her thrash around the bed in an effort to get me to push into her was something I never thought I’d get to see. It made that moment of victory just that much sweeter.

Y/N’s P.O.V.

I was trembling in anticipation to finally have him inside of me. To feel that fat cock stretching me open, filling me up like I’d always wanted it to. It was enough to drive me absolutely crazy with desire.

“Yes, yes, please, I can handle it. Please, stop teasing me,” I begged, my hands not able to choose what to hold as I struggled to keep myself from losing my mind over my boss’ cock. From the depths of my desire, I took notice of the way he smirked, one eyebrow raised up as he stared down at me, still slowly running the head of his cock between my pussy lips.

“Teasing? This isn’t teasing, love. Teasing is what you did to me, every single day since we met, parading everywhere with those fucking skintight skirts.” And with those words as preamble, he finally slid home, only stopping when he was completely inside of me, hitting my cervix and difficulting the now herculean task of remembering how to breathe again.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be this tight. I just fucking knew it.” Those were the last things I heard before he started pounding me against the mattress, barely having given me any time to get used to his thickness. 

If I thought I was losing my mind before, it became clear from the way he was bruising my insides that there was no possibility of me ever leaving this bed as a sane woman. Tom had managed to reduce me to a blubbering, stupid mess. He truly had turned me into his cockslut, I realized. I’d do anything just to keep being filled by him, over and over again.

“See? This is what you could have been having this entire time. Me and my cock. Instead, you just had to leave me for those random men. And while you were out, having your fun, all I had to keep me company was my own hand.” Tom never stopped the torturing pace with which he kept on fucking me as he slowly drove me crazy with his words. It was just unbelievable how great he was at dirty talk, I felt like I could cum already from the rhythmic attack on my sweet spot and the filth he was spilling. 

The mental image he elicited of him touching himself didn’t hurt, either.

“You’re so egoistic, sweetheart. Wasn’t it your job to serve me? Instead, I had to get off all by myself.” Despite the teasing nature of his remarks and the still brutal pace of his thrusts, his touch over my body was gentle, as he gathered my hair away from my face so he could bury his head in the crook of my neck.

“You… You could have had anyone you wanted,” I managed to remind him, starting to mirror his movements, fucking myself up on his cock. “You could have had anyone at all.” Abruptly, he stopped hiding his face against my skin, pushing away just enough to watch my expression - or maybe to show me his, in all of its seriousness.

“The only one I wanted was you. This was everything I wished for, since day one.” Tom raised himself slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts in a way that had me gasping in surprise, while also preventing me from being able to figure out what I could possibly say to that. So he continued, slowing the movements only a bit, but fucking me deeper, his eyes searching mine for something I couldn’t pinpoint. 

Tom’s P.O.V.

She gasped, finally giving up that last little bit of control and allowing herself to relax against the mattress as I did all of the work. “But now I have you, huh? And this is where you should be spending your days, with my cock deep inside of your pussy, keeping me warm, keeping me happy.” I kissed her before finishing, “Keeping me fulfilled.”

With a moan that electrified every single cell of my body, she came and prompted my own orgasm, and I spilled inside of her with a roar, momentarily losing my strength and falling on top of her body.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, darling. Let me get out of you.” But she stopped me from leaving her arms and her pussy, hugging me to her chest until I had no other choice but to cuddle her.

“It’s okay,” she said, fingers lightly running through my short hair. “I like it.”

I fell asleep that night happy because I understood that was her way of saying that she was satisfied with this development in our once strictly professional relationship. And I couldn’t wait to wake her up with another reason why she shouldn’t regret this.

[midnight-queery]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28476486

The first time it happened Kara didn’t remember it. She’d had a little too much Aldebaran rum at the alien bar and had flown home, waking up sprawled across her bed and still in her super suit, a foul taste in her mouth and a pounding in her temples. She rolled out of bed with a grimace and went through her morning routine even slower than a human, barely making it to work on time.

Kara walked into Lena’s office at CatCo with a bag of pastries from Noonan’s, two coffees, and a wide grin, and Lena smiled back, a sparkle of amusement in her eyes as she gestured for Kara to take a seat.

“Breakfast is served,” Kara chirped, hangover already gone thanks to her Kryptonian biology and the bright sun climbing high in the sky.

Lena hummed appreciatively and took a delicate bite of the scone Kara had brought her (its appalling lack of sweetness didn’t faze the CEO, apparently) as the blonde bit into her first sticky bun. “Have you seen the news yet, Kara?”

“Huh? Uh, no, not yet. I had kind of a slow start this morning.” Kara finished off her second sticky bun and took a swig of coffee. “Why, something interesting happen?”

“You could say so.” Lena gave Kara a small smile and turned on one of the televisions mounted on the wall, unmuting it so Kara could hear.

“-a distinctly Supergirl-shaped hole. Here to comment is the owner of the small business currently advertising on the billboard.” Kara whipped her head around and stared at the screen with wide eyes. The newscast cut to an older black woman, her hair in thick braids and a wide grin stretching across her face. “Oh no, we definitely don’t wanna get it fixed. My son already called the company we’re renting the space from and got them to promise to leave it alone. Why would we wanna get rid of our Super-stamp of approval? ‘Sides, she managed to fly through a bit of empty space!” The woman waved her hand and gave a throaty laugh as the interview was replaced by some B-roll of the billboard in question. Blocky text across the top of the billboard advertised ‘a homecooked meal- even if your home is another planet!’ and the bottom right corner had different pictures of food, ranging from a bowl of chowder to something neon blue that honestly looked like it might still be alive. The bottom left corner featured a vaguely person-shaped hole.

“Oh Rao,” Kara muttered. She turned back around when Lena started laughing. “Lenaaa!”

“Sorry darling, but you have to admit it is amusing.” Lena gave Kara a bright grin, her green eyes sparkling. “Of all the headlines I was expecting to wake up to this morning, this was never on the list.”

Kara groaned and lowered her head into her hands. “D’you think Alex saw?”

“She already texted me the link to the article,” Lena admitted, biting her lip to try to hide her grin. “I’m not sure how she managed to find the article before me when I own the company, but she said I should just be glad she knows how little sleep I get, else she’d have called me at 4am when it posted.”

Kara looked up and gave Lena a surprised look. “There’s an article too? Who the heck wrote it that early?”

“Me, of course,” a voice chimed in, and Kara turned with wide eyes, her face quickly melting into a pout when she saw a certain young reporter leaning against the door frame, arms crossed smugly and a shit-eating grin on her face.

“Nia,” Kara whined. “How could you? Gosh, I don’t even remember flying through it, how’d you know about it?”

“I dreamed it and woke myself up laughing just in time to get there and see it for myself.” Nia pushed off from the door jamb and sauntered into the room, pulling out her phone. “If you hadn’t been in your civvies I would have been able to post the video of you flying through it.” She held her phone out and showed the video to Kara and Lena, the latter laughing as her companion’s face turned bright red. A small shape with blonde hair and pastel-coloured clothes sped through the air, only coming to a halt when she blasted through something with a bang, a startled look on her face. The billboard never stood a chance.

“But that- but- when I woke up I was in my suit!” Kara exclaimed, looking from Nia to Lena and back, a desperate gleam in her eyes. “So it couldn’t’ve been me! It was probably just some shapeshifter trying to embarrass me!”

“Keep watching,” Lena murmured, gesturing to Nia’s phone with a smirk.

Kara turned back to the phone with a sinking feeling in her stomach. From somewhere off-screen Nia’s voice yelled for Supergirl to put her damn suit on, and a moment later, after squinting dubiously at the camera and wobbling midair, on-screen Kara mumble-yelled something about already having her suit on and looked down, realizing mid ramble that she was wearing a “stupid librarian costume” before ripping her clothes off and flying off in her suit. Kara was just glad she’d had her super suit on under her clothes instead of just her ‘birthday suit’ as the humans called it, else the video would have been even more mortifying.

The video finally (blessedly) ended, and Nia tucked her phone into her pocket with a smirk. “I’m definitely playing this at you guys’s wedding.”

Kara spluttered for several moments before sighing and slouching back in her chair, muttering about backstabbing dreamers and rude girlfriends as Nia and Lena started watching the video again.

///

The second time it happened wasn’t Kara’s fault. She was fighting an alien nearly as strong as her, and one of its punches sent her careening through the air and straight through the flimsy material of the billboard, this time one advertising cat food. Kara thought nothing of it at the time, focused on the fight and not even realizing what had just happened. It wasn’t until she’d flown back to the DEO, alien safely apprehended, that she found out about it.

“You are affecting the billboard industry in very interesting ways,” Brainy commented when Kara trudged out of the infirmary, a small scowl on her face since the fight had interrupted her lunch with Lena.

“I’m- what?”

Brainy turned to her, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Companies have begun hiring analysts to predict which billboards are in areas you might crash through and have even begun trading billboards in an effort to find the ‘sweet spot’.”

“It’s that bad?” Kara asked, horrified. “I only crashed through one!”

“Two, actually,” Brainy corrected, pointing the large screen taking up the back wall. A billboard advertising a tasty cat food with a large hole torn though the place the bowl of food used to be glared back at her tauntingly. “And it is that good. The companies want Supergirl to crash through their billboards. They have come to see it as a badge of honor. A ‘Super-stamp of approval’ as Ms. Thomas put it.”

“I’m just glad they aren’t billing us,” J’onn added, standing off to the side, his arms crossed and a rare, wide grin on his face. “If only National City saw infrastructure damage the same way.”

Kara groaned and flew away as J’onn asked Brainy if they could start charging the billboard companies.

///

The third time wasn’t Kara’s fault either, but she didn’t say anything when Alex lectured her about it. She had been on her way to interview someone for an article when Lena had sent her a very… distracting picture and she’d accidently flown through a billboard advertising lingerie of all things (oh the irony). She was just glad she’d crashed through part of the company’s slogan and not anywhere inappropriate on the picture of the model.

///

“I can’t believe you’re running this story,” Kara grumped, flopping down onto the couch in Lena’s office at L-Corp. She’d flown over from CatCo as soon as Snapper had handed out assignments in the bull pen. “And I really can’t believe you’re making me write it!”

“I thought it might be fun for you.” Lena glanced at Kara over her laptop, but quickly looked back at the screen as she continued typing out an email to R&D, outlining all the reasons a Supergirl-flight-path-predictor was a horrible idea, billboard companies be damned. “You always feel bad when your fights cause property damage, but these people are actually arguing over which bit of damage you caused is best.”

“But it’s so embarrassing,” Kara whined, throwing her hands over her face. “I know they won’t know it’s me, but I have to interview them about the holes I made in their billboards and then write an article outlining which one is ‘the most representative of Supergirl’.” The eyeroll was audible in her voice.

Lena hummed in response but when Kara was quiet she stopped typing again and looked up. “Personally, darling, I’m a fan of the hole in the lingerie advertisement. It’s not as well-placed as the others, but I do appreciate that you were apparently more distracted then than when you were drunk.”

Kara lifted one of her hands enough to give Lena the side-eye. “That was your fault and you know it. Rao, I still can’t believe you texted me a picture of you- of you-”

“More scantily clad than the lingerie model whose billboard spotlight you stole?” Lena quipped, arching her eyebrow.

Kara squeaked an affirmative and fled her girlfriend’s sultry look, figuring she’d best get the interviews over with before she got hot and bothered enough to crash through a fourth billboard and had to add another interview to her list.

///

Supergirl only crashed through a few more billboards in the following months, but apparently graffiti artists found it all quite inspiring because the Superfriends seemed to send Kara a new skillfully painted picture of herself breaking through brick walls and train cars at least once a week. (She’d never admit it to anyone, but she actually liked the one of a chibi Supergirl bursting out of a water tower, spurts water following behind her… she’d liked it so much she’d let the kid who painted it finish before she’d flown her down and lectured her on the dangers of precarious perches for humans.)

[btsslowburnfic]

BTBY Ch. 11

Story Summary: For Namjoon, the moment he set his sights on being the #1 rapper, he pushed the symbol to the side and hated it. Love should be chosen, not forced on you. He didn’t believe in fate and this mark on his wrist was a big “fuck you” to all that.

Previous Chapter found here

Chapter summary: A bedside hospital chat

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

“I feel so stupid for not even noticing.” Ben runs his hand down his face. “She never said anything to me about it.”

“Didn’t you guys agree that you didn’t care about it?” RM asks,

“Yeah, it’s just...so weird that it actually happened.”

“Well, she told me  when she met me that she already had a boyfriend and wasn’t interested. I’m sure she just didn’t want to worry you,” 

“I’m sorry. When did you say the two of you met?” Ben asks, seeming to ignore the part where RM said [Y/N] had rejected her soulmate for him.

“About 6 months  ago. She helped us prep for an award show.”

“Huh. Well.” Ben just stands there opening and closing his mouth like a fish, “I’ve uh been here for days. Do you mind staying here while I go home and grab a real shower?”

“No, of course not. Grab some real sleep too, you look like you need it.” 

Ben wanders off in a daze. He seemed like a perfectly normal guy.  RM wanders over to the nurse station to inquire about your doctor and their whereabouts. He is informed that your main Doc is out until tomorrow morning but they will page him and let him know [y/n]’s soulmate is here.

Namjoon goes back into your hospital room. The blood pressure cuff had just done it’s semi-regular squeezing. Nothing had changed. He pulls up a chair next to you. He didn’t feel any emotions rolling off of you right now. Maybe you were dreaming. Namjoon hears a light knock at the door, it was Taehyung with some coffee and water. “I thought I’d see if you wanted either of these.”

“Yeah, thanks. You can come in.” RM gestures to the other chair in the room.

 Taehyung sits the drinks down on a table.

“Where’s her fiancé? He asks looking around.

“He went home to shower and hopefully rest. He looks like he needs it.” Namjoon awkwardly fidgets with his hand. 

“How did he take everything?”

“He seemed very weirded out by it. I guess she never told him that she met me. And he never noticed her wrist.”

“People see what they want to see,” Taehyung remarked, snacking on some vending machine chips. Namjoon pondered on this for a moment and turned back to look at you. You look like you’re sleeping peacefully. He’s thankful for whatever pain medication they put you on. 

“I’m going to run back to the hotel for a bit and check in with the team. Do you want me to bring back anything?” he stands up and starts checking his pockets for all his stuff.

“Yeah throw some clothes, deodorant, and a phone charger in my backpack and bring it when you get a chance. No rush. Thanks. I really appreciate this.”

Taehyung comes over and hugs Namjoon around the shoulders. “You always look out for me. I’m happy to return the favor. I’ll be back in a while.” He walks out and closes the door behind him.

Namjoon lets out a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding in. This whole fiasco was yet another example of why this whole soulmate thing was bullshit. He had been so angry at you right up until the minute he entered the hospital room and saw how small and frail you looked. It was easy to be mad at you when you were an abstract idea. It was much harder when you were the woman who he had laughed with and hung out with, lying in a hospital bed with tubes sticking out of you.

He stands up and walks over to the door, closing it. He looks back over at you, looks down at your matching wrists, and this time he feels much more sad than angry. He takes your hand in his and intertwines your fingers.

“Hey. I need you to wake up so I can yell at you. I was in the middle of a show when you did this. I’m sure the rumors have already started,” he teases you. “Running into me and hurting your wrist is one thing, running into a car is some next level shit.” He smiles. 

“Your fiancé seems nice and super normal. You never told him about us though so I think he’s very surprised. Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything about that night.” Namjoon adds in quietly. “I think about that night a lot,” he adds. “At night, when I’m alone. I think about you. I think about how things might be different if I wasn’t in the band.” he strokes your arm gently.

  “You know? If you wanted to see me, your Director has my number, you didn’t have to go all dramatic on me. I wouldn’t have minded hearing from you actually.” he adds quietly. He looks at the matching marks on your wrists, so close now they are almost touching. “I remember the day I got this. I was 4.5 years old and I was so excited. I woke up with it and ran into my parents bedroom. We actually celebrated your birthday that day. I insisted on it. It was so dumb, but my parents are kind so they went along with it and we made a cake for you and I made a wish for you.” Namjoon takes a deep breath. “I wished that I would find you someday and you would be just as excited about me as I was about you. Every year on my birthday and on yours I thought about you; where you were. What you were doing. And my parents celebrated with me too. Because it was important to me.” Namjoon grabs a few tissues and blots his eyes where a few tears have started to fall. 

“Until I was around 14. I became too cool for any of that bullshit. I had crushes on other girls but I felt weird because I had a soulmate. I had other things I wanted to pursue and I didn’t want you holding me back. I didn’t even know you but I was already blaming you for stuff. How fucked up is that?” he laughs dryly,  “I remember that year my parents assumed we were going to celebrate your birthday and I told them that I wished I didn’t have my mark. That I wanted to live my life without you. I didn’t want a soulmate and the whole thing was stupid. I’ll never forget the looks on their faces. I don’t think they have ever been more ashamed. And so I stuck with that feeling for years.” Namjoon runs his fingers over the writing on your wrists.

“And then you so rudely ran into me last year. And chased me. I was absolutely terrified.” he smiles as he remembers, “I went and hid in my room. Suga had to make me come out. I tried to hide behind Jin so you wouldn’t see me. And you were not at all what I expected. You were independent and bossy and so comfortable doing your own thing. You didn’t need me. And I loved that. I don’t want you to need me. We should be with who we’re with because we want to be, not because of this forced tattoo.”

Namjoon gently sits your hand down and gets up to stretch and get some water. He dries his tears but still feels so sad. You must be ‘awake,’

He comes back over and sits next to you and starts talking about random stuff to see if you will respond. “Come on sweetheart, wake up.” 

 You hear a voice you haven’t heard this close to you in ages. You had heard it in interviews, you had stalked it on youtube videos, but it seemed so close. RM. You try to open your eyes but even that seems impossible. You try to focus on it, and hope that he just keeps talking. 

“The choreographer there sucked; he didn’t show up to do the blocking ahead of time. You would have been embarrassed. And then tore them a new one. While smiling,”

Yep, that was definitely him talking to you, but why? Was this a dream? You had dreamt about him all the time. You loved and hated it. It always left you feeling so sad the next day, a pain in your heart. Stupid soulmate. You need to wake up so you can get on with your day. You determine yourself, open your damn eyes.

Namjoon feels a mix of sad, confused, and irritated  as he sees your eyes start to flutter open. “Oh my God. [Y/n], yes wake up.” you hear him say. You open your eyes. The light is blinding. You let out a small whimper and close your eyes. “Oh, shit hold on,” you hear him get up and turn the lights down.

“Sorry sweetheart, there. Try again,” you hear him encourage you. You are definitely dreaming. RM is here and being nice to you and calling you sweetheart. Just like that night in February.

You open your eyes. He looks the same but his hair is blonde. “I like your hair.” you croak out. Your voice is gravely like it hasn’t been used in a while.

“Oh my God,” he just laughs. 

If this is a dream you want to stay in it. You close your eyes again.

“No, no, no, I need you to open your eyes.” you feel him gently shake your arm. 

You slowly become aware of the rest of your surroundings. You are in a bed. A hospital bed. You are definitely in a hospital, you notice a million things sticking out of your arms, electrodes on your chest, a cuff on your arm, is that dried blood on you? You feel him hold your hand, “Hey, calm down. Calm down. You’re in the hospital. You were in a car accident. You've been out of it for a few days.”

You start crying. You can’t help it. This is fucked up. Where is Ben? Why does your head feel like it’s splitting in half, why is RM here? Why are you glad to see him here instead of Ben? Why is this happening? You hear the heart rate monitor start to climb and you are trying to calm down but this is just so fucked up.

“Hey, calm down. You need to breathe. You are safe. I’m going to call the nurse, ok? Do you want me to leave?” he asks, gently holding your hand still.

You shake your head ‘no’ 

“You’re in pain.” he comments.

You squeeze your eyes shut and nod your head. 

“I’ll go get someone,” he tries to leave but you aren’t letting go of his hand. “Hey, he leans in so he’s close to your ear and whispers, “I’ll be right back ok? You need a nurse and you need pain medication. I Can feel how bad it hurts.” 

You lay there breathing through the pain. What’s the last thing you actually remember? You were at work and left to grab lunch. And then what? You realize you can’t remember. Shit. You were in a car accident? Was the other person ok? Oh God. If you were in a coma what happened to Namjoon.

You hear a bunch of people come into the room and immediately there are nurses taking your vitals, shining lights into your eyes, and changing your IV drip. Jesus. You felt like a big deal. 

“Alright, there we go,” you hear one of the nurses speak to you. “I’m Jennifer. I’m going to give you a few minutes with your friend here while this drip gets started and then I’ll be in with the doctor in awhile ok?”

You give a slight nod of your head, which is still pounding. You close your eyes again. Tears are involuntarily running down your face. This is all fucked.

“Hey,” you hear RM’s voice. 

You open an eye suspiciously. Not a dream you guess. “Hey,” you manage to croak out.

“You sound like shit,” he responds.

“You look like shit,’ you respond without thinking. He starts laughing. 

“I’m not even going to let you see a mirror, but I think you should know that of the two of us,  I am in much better shape.” he flashes his dimples at you and you once again feel like this has to be a dream.

“Shit. I’m sorry I got hit by a car. Did it hurt you?” you ask while gesturing to a container of water that has been left on the nightstand. He hands it to you.

“Yeah. I was performing in London and all of a sudden my legs stopped working and I collapsed. I had no idea what was going on until Jin stated the obvious.” 

“Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s ok. Just you know, don’t do it again.” he smiles.

“You cut your fingers a lot,” you comment without thinking.

“..I do. I’m a terrible chef but my production team thinks it’s hilarious to make me try and cook things.”

“Please make them stop.” you say half-joking.

He runs a hand through his hair, “I’ll see what I can do.” 

“Are you feeling better?” you ask.

“How the hell is it that you are in a hospital bed and you are asking me how I feel?” he asks incredulously.

You just sit there and shrug. The pain medication is starting to kick in making you feel drowsy. “Sorry I ruined your show,” you say as you start to feel very sleepy. “Thanks for coming. I missed you.” 

Namjoon sits there for a minute feeling like the world’s biggest douchebag and then takes out his phone to text Taehyung. He walks out to the nurse’s station. He emotionally prepares himself,  “Excuse me, has anyone called her fiancé? He went home last night to rest but I’m sure he’d want to know she’s awake.”

The nurse looks at the chart, “Ah yes, we had our social worker call a few minutes ago and leave  a message.”

“Great, thanks.”  Namjoon responds and decides to leave the hospital. 

--------

Taehyung is sitting at the desk in the hotel room writing when Namjoon comes back in. He looks up, “Hey, Sorry, I was on a meeting with the guys and then the producer for a while,” 

“It’s fine,” Namjoon says as he lays facedown on the bed. He keeps willing himself not to cry but he can’t help it. The tears fall hot on the cheap polyester bedspread. Taehyung closes his laptop and sits on the other bed facing him.

“What happened?” 

“I didn’t want to leave,” Namjoon says quietly.

“Did somebody make you leave?” Taehyung asks gently, not quite understanding.

“She has a fiancé. I’ve spent my whole life telling her I didn’t want her. This whole time all I’ve thought about is myself and one of the first things she asks me is if I’m ok. I feel like a complete asshole. I don’t deserve her as my soulmate.”

Tae just sits there for a minute and then walks over with a box of tissues. “Yeah. You have been kind of a dick about her.” he sighs. “Do you want me to stay here or do you need some space?”

“I want to be alone,” he chokes out. 

“If you change your mind, just text me,” Taehyung grabs his laptop and quietly leaves the room.

Namjoon stays like that, indulging his sadness for a few more minutes. He rolls over and takes out his phone. He has one picture of the two of you at the awards show together. From time to time he takes it out and remembers the night you spent together. He looks at it now. What would have happened that night if he would have asked to stay? For you to come with him. What would have happened if he hadn’t been so dead set against you. He sighs and then sees a text pop up on his phone.

[unidentified number]: hey this is really awkward. This is Xavier, [y/n]s friend. I usually come to visit around d this time of day and she's finally awake  but no one has heard from Ben. She is flipping out. I don’t want to leave her alone to go one a wild goose chase for her douchebag fiancé so can you please either come here or go to their apartment?

Jesus. Namjoon thought. He could just ignore this. He could walk away and be done with this. But he knew he couldn’t. He sighed, tears still staining his cheeks.

[RM]: Ok, yeah I’ll be there in 10 minutes. 

He went to the bathroom and washed his face. NEXT CHAPTER

@calling-dips-on-j-hope​ @ghostkat23​

[ckret2]

Ok, but Alastor being an old man that doesn’t know technology being boyfriend’s with a Victorian man that taught himself how to craft lasers and code *his own damn ship computer/pocket watch phone* is so damn hilarious. Pentious tries to teach him how to use a mobile phone and he either locks himself out of the damn thing or he presses too hard on the screen and ends up skewering the damn thing with his talons.

HONESTLY. HONESTLY in the sequel to CDIH I plan on doing so much with the fact that Sir Pent is keeping up and Alastor ain’t.

Like. Like just picture. Alastor gets dragged kicking and screaming into using ~modern technology~. Once he has been dragged into using ~modern technology~, by golly, he’s going to use it to have some fun! He’s going to decide he wants to watch music videos on YouTube, which is a web site that he has heard exists. He is going to go to the URL bar. He’s going to type in “http:\\www.google.com”, he’s going to look at it thoughtfully, he’s going to squint at the two different slash keys on the keyboard, he’s going to leave the room to ask somebody which direction the slash is supposed to tilt if you are trying to go to Google Dot Com—

“you’re sure that’s the direction the slash mark is supposed to tilt SPECIFICALLY to go to GOOGLE DOT COM?” “yes, I know what I’m doing,” “no, you don’t need to come help me,” “no, I am PERFECTLY capable of going to Google Dot Com without you holding my hand, I was the king of the airwaves back before most Americans HAD radios, if I could handle the radio I can CERTAINLY handle an overpromoted typewriter, THANK you”

—and then he’s going to go back to the computer and delete the entire URL by clicking “delete” 21 separate times, he’s going to retype it as “http://www.google.com”, and then he is going to click enter.

(And please… if this is how slow and difficult it is for him to navigate to google, imagine how much time and effort someone must have spent to slowly teach him how to turn on a computer, how to open a web browser, what a web browser is for, how to highlight the address bar in order to type in a URL, what an address bar IS…)

And then he is going to click in the search bar on Google Dot Com, and he is going to type in “Hello! How do I reach You Tube?” and he is going to puzzle over the little square that says “I’m Feeling Lucky” for a moment before deciding, no, perhaps he doesn’t feel lucky today, and he’ll click on the little square that says “Google Search,” and google is going to be like,

An actual link to YouTube does not appear anywhere on the first page of results. Alastor is lost. He’s adrift at sea with no sign of shore. He will never find his way to YouTube.

He looks at the little list of tabs up top like,

and he dubiously clicks on Videos, because yes, the You-Tube he has been shown had videos, that’s kind of its thing. And the results are like,

And he very dubiously clicks on the first one.

First it plays an ad—oh, he succeeded, he found a video!—and then it plays another ad, Alastor has no ad block, the concept of “ad block” does not exist anywhere within his understanding of the universe, and then it starts playing what looks like an old black and white movie like,

Oh it’s a picture show! He found a picture show on the Internet! How wonderful! He doesn’t recognize the movie but it’s in black and white, it must have been made in his time—

And then a minute and twenty seconds into the video it FINALLY starts playing music and he’s like I DID IT I FOUND THE MUSIC VIDEOS I WAS PROMISED. He pats himself on the back, he’s great at using modern technology, he’s got this all figured out.

He’s got a little yellow pad and pencil he keeps next to the computer to jot down the “Internet addresses” of songs he likes so that he can type them into the “Internet address bar” when he wants to watch them or listen to them again later. He’s found that you have to write them down fast, even though they’re very long, because when the song ends it will move right on to the next one—just like the radio when a song ends—so if you dawdle it will vanish and you’ll never find the song again!

Guess what feature Alastor hasn’t noticed exists and doesn’t know he can turn off.

Guess what other features Alastor doesn’t know about.

Making an account so he can save videos.

Back buttons to go back to a song if he missed the URL.

The controls on a video.

If Alastor likes a song and wants to hear it twice, he clicks on the search bar and types in the whole URL one letter at a time and clicks enter to get it to re-load and play again.

And he’s got no control over this mad unhinged machine that is the YouTube algorithm system, its autoplay is like a car with a brick held down on the gas and nobody holding the steering wheel, it’s just taking Alastor wherever the fuck it wants and if it starts ducking into weird fucking videos Alastor is just going to assume that that’s how YouTube works, it’s no different from the radio, sometimes you’re scheduled for music and sometimes you’re scheduled for ads and sometimes you’re scheduled for interviews or a talk show or news or whatever.

Which means eventually if he lets this untamed shambling A.I. behemoth keep careening around wherever it wants to go, it’s going to start meandering into the niche/weird stuff. EVENTUALLY it’s going to stumble onto something off of Sir Pentious’s channel, and he’s going to open up the video sounding like a Boomer trying to sound cool, like,

(I told the link to load at 5:33 but I think it’s not going to do that on tumblr, I know you all are capable of going to 5:33 yourself because y’all are five million times more competent with computers than Alastor is, just skip to that time ok cool thanks good job)

Video opens up on Sir Pent like that and Alastor is absolutely flabbergasted that Sir Pentious is on the You Tube and then Sir Pent’s like “so I broke into another church to take a joy ride on their pipe organ, per my last video this is the song all four of my followers requested for me to play!” and he takes off like,

and Sir Pent’s trying to sound cool, ends like “Sssmasssh those like and subscribe buttons if you’d like to sssee me illegally play someone else’s pipe organ! :>” and Alastor is sitting there going I HAVE NEVER WANTED TO SMASH ANYTHING SO MUCH IN MY LIFE BUT I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO DO THAT.

He’s so completely shocked and awed to see a video with Sir Pentious in it that he doesn’t even remember to write down the URL, which means he will never ever find the video again.

So: Sir Pent is extremely embarrassingly trying to sound Hip & Modern while playing a 22-year-old out-of-date meme song and he’s only got four followers… but like, but like, he KNOWS the Hip & Modern lingo; AND he knows how to make, edit, and upload YouTube videos and curate a YouTube channel; and he knows how to read the comments on his videos, at least minimally engage with viewers, and keep up with who’s following him…

And meanwhile Alastor doesn’t even know the comment section exists.

Sir Pentious only looks behind the times and out of date until he is compared with the alternative.

[221bshrlocked]

III. Misunderstandings

Pretend You Don’t See Her! Masterlist

Pairing: Mob!Sebastian x Reader

Words: 3176

Warnings: swearing. some angst.

A/N: so this was much longer than I thought it would be. Sorry not sorry. Let me know if you want to be tagged in the masterlist post. And please comment, like and reblog and tell me how I’m doing. I am in constant need of assurance. This is not beta’d.

Previous Part | Next Part

Two weeks. 

It has been two weeks since that night that changed everything. Sebastian was no longer overthinking why you haven’t called. He was plainly angry and it never occurred to him that his anger was the product of how much he was hurting. You weren’t meant to affect him this much and he hated how angry he was all the time. He always prided himself in having the ability to remain objective and neutral during the worst of times. But you somehow managed to change all of this. 

He wasn’t the only one that noticed this. His best friend, even his rather dull men, noticed this shift. Sebastian cracked one night when the asshole came by and told him he knew he was in his part of the neighborhood. Everyone was surprised to say the least. Sebastian never broke his word to anyone, even when it was his enemies. He had aggressively told him he should know his men better. There was honor among thieves and all that. A fight almost broke out when Sebastian decided to tell his rival he should not steal from the poor and had it not been for his most trustworthy and intelligent man, someone would have died that night. So when everyone calmed down and left, Sebastian couldn’t hold back, telling his friend what happened that night and how he was dumb enough to think that she might call. 

“And you didn’t get her name?”

“Would I be in this fuckin’ problem if I did Chris? No, I don’t think so. Besides, even if I did, I can’t go back there. You’ve seen what almost happened tonight. I can’t afford to start another war when we just ended the last one.” Sebastian downed the rest of his drink, growling before he pretended to do something on his phone.

“I’m only asking because you’re obviously affected by this.”

“Well maybe you need to keep your fucking thoughts to yourself. Thought about that?” Sebastian yelled at his friend, immediately regretting how he began to lose control of himself. Never in his life did he think he would get to this point because of a woman. He’d never once spoken to Christ like this and he regretted it immediately. Before he could apologize, Chris was walking out, shutting the door behind him and telling his men to not go anywhere near the boss.

“FuCK!”

Why haven't you called? Why didn’t you come around and ask for him? Were you really that terrified of him? He thought you were different, that you could see through this tough act. He gave you so many incentives to get in touch with him. You needed money and he had it. Surely you would have at least come after him for more? No one in need would be able to deny such an opportunity.

Unbeknownst to him, Chris was already looking up the phone number of the diner you worked at. He vaguely remembered what Sebastian said about your attire and there was only one place in your area that resembled a diner. He made a few calls, knowing very well his boss was most likely going to shoot him when he found out what he’d just done. He left the bar soon after, knowing he shouldn’t be around when his plan worked out. 

On the other side of town, you were chatting up one of the regulars, laughing at something the old woman said about her husband. When your boss called out to you so you could have a break, you told them the other waitress was going to finish up with them. Taking off the dirty apron, you sat in  the lounge and ate your lunch, trying your hardest not to think about Sebastian or how safe you felt around him. You shouldn’t have these thoughts about a complete stranger. He was obviously a dangerous man. But he didn’t seem like he’d purposely hurt anyone innocent. 

But god damn it he was dangerous. It oozed off of him like lava out of a volcano. Maybe that was part of why you were so attracted to him. But nothing good ever came from these kinds of men. 

So busy daydreaming, you didn’t notice your boss walking in and sitting down in front of you. 

“Huh sorry Sam, I didn’t catch that?” You cleaned up after yourself and turned to him.

“So here’s the thing Y/N. I don’t know how to tell you this but-” Your heart sank immediately, knowing where this was going to go. 

“You’re letting me go aren’t you?” You cut him off, surprised by how unhurt you felt by this. When he didn’t respond, you walked towards him and sat down, taking his hands and rubbing them. “It’s alright Sam, don’t you worry about me. I’m a tough girl, I can find another job.” You smiled up at him before getting up and taking off name tag and keys to the diner. 

“Listen, I made a few calls and I found this place you could work at. They’ve been looking for a waitress who knows her shit and I recommended you. Told them you do well under pressure and you’re an honest and responsible woman. I’ve got the address here. It’s good pay too, a lot more than what I could’ve ever paid you. ” He took out a small note and gave it to you, and you couldn’t help but smile at him.

“You’re always looking out for me Sam. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay your kindness.” You looked at the address and noticed how far it is. But you could take the bus. The pay was more anyway.

“You call me letting you go “kindness”?”

“Other bosses wouldn’t have cared or called their friends to find me a job.” You noticed his expression fall but you said nothing. “See you around Sam.” You waved at him and walked out, afraid the tears would break through and you really didn’t want him to feel like shit. 

As you made your way back to your apartment, you couldn’t help but get this feeling about the address in your pocket. 

Hell’s Kitchen. 

That was a whole other world. A different class of people. You knew the pay was definitely going to be better, and that was excluding the tips. You’ve had a friend tell you how often and generously she was tipped.

“Just get through tonight and you’ll be good. Things are looking up after all and you didn’t even use his money.” You whispered to yourself as you looked for a nice outfit to wear. 

And then you remembered where Sebastian’s bar was. You asked the guy at the market a few days ago and he told you it was in Hell’s Kitchen. Maybe this was a sign for you to return his things? Taking a deep breath, you decided to leave a bit early so you could go and return his things. Well, maybe not all of them. He wouldn’t need the coat. 

The entire bus ride there, you weren’t sure if you looked decent enough to see him. Wait, why did it matter how you looked? You weren’t going for anything else apart from returning his things. The purpose of tonight was to look presentable, confident, and diligent for the job, and nothing else. Definitely nothing else.

Or so you thought. 

You readjusted your dress for the tenth time that night and as you made your way through the streets, you smiled at how different this side of the city was. There were more people in every corner you looked, some laughing, some yelling, and some just minding their own business and living. 

“Excuse me, can you help me find this bar?” You walked up to one of the newspaper stands and asked an old man sitting down with his legs crossed, thanking him when he told you to continue walking and make a left at the end of the street. 

A few minutes passed, and you realized you were walking faster than usual. Even your body reacted to knowing you were near him and you would think about that later, not now. Not when you were about to meet him. Right now, you just needed to give him his things and leave to make it in time for your interview. 

When you finally turned around the corner, you halted in your steps and gasped. The bar was definitely not a bar. It looked like an entire fucking hotel. Even the name of the bar was at least one story high. But that wasn’t the problem. Far from it.

The problem was the fact that the street name and address of the bar were the same as the one Sam gave you. Was this some kind of joke? You didn’t know what to do other than walk towards the entrance and talk to the men standing there.

As you approached, one of the men stretched his hand out and stopped you.

“H-hi, I umm, my boss, well ex-boss, told me there is a waitress wanted here? I’m...I’m here for...f-for the interview, if there is an interview.” You stammered through the sentence, hoping that one of them would have an idea of what you were talking about. You were about to apologize when they stepped aside and one of them went ahead of you and led you inside. You thanked the other man and he nodded at you before shutting the door after you entered. 

It was such a different atmosphere inside. There wasn’t a single seat open and there was a jazz band on the stage and my god was the singer pretty.

“You here for the job opening?” A man came out of nowhere and you jumped at how loud he was, nodding and telling him about your boss Sam and what he told you. You thought you a shift in his facial expression but you didn’t question him, smiling when he led you towards the back to his office. 

As you entered, he shut the door behind him and you suddenly felt uneasy.

“A-are you the owner of this bar?”

“Hah no no, I’m just the guy running it while the boss is away. I’m Anthony by the way.” He crossed his legs and continued to stare at you.

“Oh so, the- the boss is not here today. I can come back another day. I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead or ask or set an appointment or ever ask for one. God I-” Panic filled your lungs and you felt the room getting hotter at the prospect of getting kicked out before the interview. 

“Hey hey relax, you’re alright. I know this is probably a lot for you, seeing this establishment and how much bigger it is than where you used to work.” He tried to reassure you but you were afraid of what his words implied.

“How did you know where I worked?” 

“Well, you were suggested by Sam. You are the waitress he spoke of right? Not someone else trying to take the job?” He leaned forward and you shook your head instantly.

“No no I swear it’s me. Sorry I just, it’s been a while since I did this and I’m not really sure how these things go when it’s a packed place.”

“Okay, here’s the thing. Normally, I talk to you, then Chris who’s my boss, talks to you to make sure you’re fit for us. Then the big boss sits down because he tends to read people better than most.” When you said nothing, Anthony continued to talk.

“But you’re a special case. So the good news is, you won’t need to talk to Chris or anyone else. Just me. Are you feeling alright?”

“Y-yes sir.”

“None of that, just call me Tony. Now, I only have a few questions for you and the job is yours. You do well under pressure?”

“Yes sir- sorry, I mean Tony. Yes Tony. I’ve worked in different environments and bars and diners and I assure you I’m very good at my job.” You sat at the edge of your seat and maintained eye contact with him.

“Good. Are you on any types of drugs? Perhaps an alcoholic?”

“No never. My mama raised me better than that. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I just don’t prefer either.” You prided yourself in how your voice never faltered when you spoke to him.

“And lastly, you think you’ll do alright working a twelve hour shift, maybe more depending on how many customers we have?”

“Yes. But-”

“Yes?” Tony asked and you didn’t want to already start a problem.

“Well I, I live on the other side of town and if I’m working late into the night, I am afraid of making it back to my place by myself. It’s an hour on the bus.”

“Then you need to move down here.”

“I...umm, I’ll try.”

“You’ll try? Do you not want this job?”

“Sir I am so sorry I really do want the job I swear. I just- I have no money and I have an arrangement with the owner of my building and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford anything on this side of town.”

“How much were you getting paid?” When he saw how reluctant you were in responding, he reassured you Sam wouldn’t get in trouble. 

“The most I was ever paid was nine an hour.” You whispered to him and blinked in surprise when at his response. 

“Well fuck!” Tony was quiet for a bit before he took a deep breath before he spoke to you again.

“Alright, how about this, I will keep you on a twelve hour shift and you come by at seven every morning. Once you have enough money, you can move down here and we’ll up your hours. Sounds good?”

“With all due respect sir, I don’t know how much you’ll pay me so I don’t know if I can afford an apartment down here.”

“You’ll start at twenty and hour, and if you’re as good as you say, we’ll make it thirty. You alright with that?” Tony couldn’t hold back the smile when your eyes almost fell out of their sockets when he told you the numbers. 

“Yes sir. Yes that’s more than enough, thank you sir.”

“Please, it’s Tony. Practice it. Just Tony. And the job is yours.” He stood up and you almost fell over when you tried to stand uo to shake his hands, the smile never leaving your face. Tony was heading to the door and lead you out when it was pushed open aggressively. 

You jumped in your place and almost dropped your things when you saw who just walked in. 

“Where the hell is Chris? I ask everyone and they tell me he just up and left when we have a deal to c-” The words died in his throat when he looked part Tony and saw who was standing behind him.

Time stood still and your heart skipped a beat when you looked at him. You could tell he was as taken aback by your presence as you were by his. But the moment faded away when he spoke again, leaving a hollow place in your heart that quickly filled with hurt.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” He spat at Tony and you could tell that Tony didn’t expect Sebastian to know who you were.

“Just hired her for a job.” Tony said, unphased by how he was being spoken to.

“Who the fuck told you to do that?” Sebastian put his hands in his pockets and you couldn’t help but admire how lean he looked when he wasn't wearing a million layers. 

“Well, Chris told me to-”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill that son of a bitch when he gets here.” He focused on you again, watching your expression fall with every violent word that came out of his mouth. Without saying anything else, he left.

Tony turned to you and raised an eyebrow before telling you that you still had the job.

“You start tomorrow alright? Be here at seven sharp.” He was about to lead you away when you stopped him and asked for a favor.

“I...I know this is random and weird and please don’t ask me what happened because based on that reaction, I’m probably in no place to speak. But could you possibly give these to him?” You went through your bag and brought out the money and the watch you wrapped in newspapers. “These belong to him and I have been meaning to return them to him when he left them at- well, it doesn’t matter. They belong to him. And I don’t think he’ll want to see me right now.”

Tony looked down and nodded, taking the things from you and telling you to not worry about him. 

“I’m really sorry Y/N. He isn’t normally like that, trust me. I’ve worked with him for decades.”

You almost told him you knew what he meant but you chose against it, deciding to just nod at him and leave. 

You almost cried on the bus on your way back but you held yourself until you were in the safety of your home, throwing yourself on the bed and crying yourself to sleep as you covered yourself with his coat. You should have been happy, ecstatic, fucking thankful because of the chance of a lifetime. 

But it hurt knowing how much you weren’t wanted there. You’d ripped up the note he gave you weeks ago, knowing he didn’t mean anything he wrote down and that it was a good decision to never take him up on the offer. 

Hours later, Tony knocked on Sebastian’s door and walked in without waiting for an answer, already knowing he was going to be yelled at or worse.

“The fuck you want? And where is Chris?”

“He ain’t coming around tonight. Here, Y/L/N wanted me to give this to you.”

“Who the fuck is Y/L/N?”

“The poor girl you yelled and swore at for not fucking reason other than having a stick up your ass.” Tony said, knowing he was probably crossing a line with Sebastian but it was something he definitely needed to hear. Sebastian almost lost his temper but he somehow remained calm, grabbing the object out of Tony’s hand before telling him to leave. 

As he sat down and ripped the newspapers, his eyes widened, not sure out of surprise or horror.

There they were, all the money and the watch he left. Not one dollar was messing. 

“FUCK!” He swore, slamming the watch against the wall before leaning backward on his chair.

You were nothing like he expected. 

As he reevaluated his actions, he couldn’t help but notice that a few things were off. She returned the four grand, and the watch. But where was his coat? And more importantly, what the fuck was he going to say to her when she started her shift?

Tags (some aren’t working): @feelmyroarrrr @yallneedtrek @talk-geek-to-me @lovecatystuff @scuzmunkie  @diablefatale @ayybtch @searchingforbuckyfavs​ @that-damn-girl​ @ruthyalva96​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @calwitch​ @maybeisthemoon​ @metalarmsandmanbuns​ @saliarheva​ @becs-bunker​ @gogomez-509​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @sycochick​ @evilxcupcakexnik​ @redgillan​ @dragonqueen0606​ @sydthekid1518​ @bbmommy0902​ @honey-bee-holly​ @godohammers​ @mazarinqueen​ @ladifreakingda @duhh-danielly​ @buckysoldierstories​

[cutie1365]

A Kid from Queens Part 15

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Info: CA: Civil War Era. Tony Stark enlists his daughter to find the web slinging spider in Queens.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: n/a

(no Far From Home spoilers)

A/N: There’s one part where maybe pretend you have an ‘A’ initial, this idea was written more for my OC on Wattpad, so I’m sorry, but I kinda love it so I didn’t wanna change it.

Masterlist linked in my bio. Taglist in the reblog.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

“Where are you headed all dressed up?” Tony asks as you’re leaving your room at the compound.

“All dressed up? Dad this is a suit.” You laughed him off, he walked with you as you were making your way towards the front to board the jet.

“Alright Scully, where are you headed? Did I miss a memo for a shareholder meeting or something?” Tony asked.

Ever since you’d presented the information to him about the Mayor, he had been extra protective. But you’d done as he suggested, you turned the information over to the FBI. They suggested that for the time being, you keep up with Thomas and the family for appearances sake, to not cause suspicion. You told this to your father. What you didn’t tell him was that the FBI invited you to aid in the investigation, due to your proximity to the case you’d be useful. Also considering they were likely stealing from a government warehouse that was half Stark owned and maintained. You’d be a good person to have on board, and your commitment would be minimal. You’d publically stay with Thomas until they told you it was time to distance yourself, meaning they’d found something or want to provoke the family into making a mistake and slipping up, hopefully exposing a hole in their network they could exploit. You thought it was a good idea, you also thought it would be best for your father’s nerves if you didn’t tell him the full story.

“I guess someone doesn’t read their emails. But no, Linda has me judging the annual robotics competition at MIT, so it’s Back to School for me.” You spoke, digging through your purse, making sure you had everything, your suitcase should have already been on the jet, but you were only going to be gone for a few days.

Tony nodded, as if he now remembered seeing something about that somewhere. He saw the jet on the tarmac, ready to take off any minute as you both stood before the glass entrance of the compound.

“Alright Animal House, no toga parties.” He hugged you goodbye, you chuckled at the thought of a bunch of engineers throwing a toga party.

“I’ll try my best. I’ll be back in a few days. Oh, and tell Wanda I left a box of clothes for her in my room. And I made a prototype of an upgrade for Rhodey’s braces that I left in the lab for you to do some testing on.” You began to ramble off things for him, knowing there was a low chance he’d remember everything.

“Alright mother hen, you don’t want to be late.” He hugged you once more, shooing you off.

You made your way to the jet, as Tony watched you from a distance. His little girl, all grown up. He hadn’t seen you this happy in a while, it brought a smile to his face. Ever since he’d practically ordered you to stay away from Peter, he noticed a change in you. You spent so much time in the lab, tinkering on things to take your mind off of life. You were rushed around from interview to interview, dress fitting to dress fitting, and photoshoot to photoshoot. He noticed the toll it was taking on you. He hated seeing you so run down, and nearly considered giving the kid a chance. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad, it worked for him and Pepper, it might just be able to work for them. He’s a good kid, but he’s not willing to take a chance yet, not when it comes to his daughters safety. He’s kept you safe for a long time, and he didn’t want to ever see you hurt again.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

As you arrived in Boston, after a quick flight, a car was waiting to take you the rest of the way to MIT.

The car pulled into the familiar streets where you’d resided for a few years when you were younger. You hadn’t been back in years, yet it all looked the same. Near the entrance you spotted some of your old professors chatting, likely they were also judges.

“Y/N.” One greeted you, his expression somewhere between surprise and joy.

“Dr. Greenfield, it’s nice to see you again.” You smiled, shaking his hand.

“You’re all grown up now aren’t you. You know, I still remember your first day in my class. I had to go home and rework half of my lesson plans.” He chuckled at the memory. You remembered sitting in his class, answering all his questions that were meant to stump the class. He was a sweet older man, and you were happy to be here with him now.

You chatted and caught up for a few more minutes before you were invited inside to check in and meet the teams. You were given a metal name plate that you slipped on. Dr. A. Stark, it read.

You met the other 5 judges and mingled for a bit while the teams were still setting up in their prospective rooms. Some were industry experts, some were old professors of yours. Each judge had been assigned to a team, to mentor and offer insight and guidance before the final judging in two days time.

When a facilitator led you into a room of five boys standing in front of their invention, you weren’t met with the warm welcome you were expecting.

“Gentleman, I’d like to introduce you to your mentor Dr.-” The facilitator was cut off by one of the boys, he seemed to be the ringleader of the group.

“No, no, our mentor is Dr. A. Stark. Anthony Stark. Not some...” He waved his hand at you, trying to think of the best descriptor, “Vogue cover girl.”

You’d had a nice day so far, you were willing to let it slide, but when he opened his mouth and spoke to you with such disrespect, you were going to make him wish he’d called in sick today. The facilitator, likely a student committee volunteer, had her mouth hung open slightly in shock, she didn’t know what to do. So you stepped forward towards the boys, and that’s exactly what they were.

“You got Dr. A. Stark. Y/N (I’m sorry my OC has an A initial) Stark. My father actually doesn’t have a PhD. But I’ve got two. One of them in Electrical Engineering from this fine university.” You raised your hands motioning to the school around you, stepping closer once more, and oh if looks could kill. “But if you don’t want my help, I’m sure there are other teams who would be happy to have me...”

You turned on your heel and made one strutt towards the door before whipping around once more.

“By the way, you’re going to need the help, because I can spot six errors already from here. Seven if you count that sloppy rotary potentiometer.” And with that, you spun towards the door once more and didn’t look back at what you were certain were five speechless boys nearly shaking in their boots.

You’d certainly inherited a flair for the dramatics from your father, but this time it was merely a facade. Deep down you were on the verge of tears. This was your livelihood, you didn’t care if the civilian population thought you were some brainless covergirl, but you at least thought the people in your own field would respect you. The opinion of five students shouldn’t have hit you as hard as it did, but it now had you questioning everything. Every move you’ve made since that damn photograph came out.

You were leaning on the wall in the stairwell, if you were going to cry, you were going to make sure none of them saw you do it. You suddenly heard the large metal door open next to you, and a student looked at you in shock.

“Dr. Stark?” He asked, he wasn’t one of the boys from before, he must have been on another team. You knew he wasn’t like the others, he at least seemed to recognize you and your title.

“That would be me.” You smiled, lifting yourself off the wall slightly.

“I read your paper on nanoparticle technology. I think it’s completely revolutionary, I mean the implications alone... I just, it blew my mind.” He smiled, you watched as he spoke so passionately, waving his hands about as he spoke. A smile slowly spread to your face as well. In his excitement, he’d forgotten to introduce himself. He was tall but lanky, with a dirty blond mop of hair resting on his head, and deep blue eyes.

“That was my doctoral thesis from a few years ago. Back then the idea was completely theoretical, but even today at Stark Industries we’re developing prototypes using only nanotech.” You stated proudly.

“How’d you get around the deterioration objective?” He asked, with a slight tilt of his head.

“A housing unit that harnesses palladium and vibranium to almost charge the particles.” You explained, enjoying watching his eyes pop as you explained. It was refreshing talking to someone who spoke your language.

“That’s brilliant. It’s really such an honor to meet you. I know my team and I would be grateful if you would be able to spare a few minutes to look at our design? Our mentor is just... well he doesn’t have your experience.” He rubbed the back of his head nervously.

“I’ll see what I can do.” You smiled, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Harley, Harley Keener.” He shook your hand with a smile.

- - - - - 🕷 - - - - -

Taglist in reblog

Please comment, like, and reblog!

Sorry this chapter is a little shorter, I’ve basically got the next one written but I thought it might be too long to combine them. Don’t worry Peter’s coming in soon!

[eldritchteaparty]

Chapters: 9/20 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane, Melanie King Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter Summary: Jon returns to work, and Melanie King interviews for a position as archival assistant that Elias forgot to mention he had posted. Martin cuts Jon's hair.

Chapter 9 of my post-canon fix-it fic is out and yes, I jumped on the haircut fluff bandwagon. 

Read above at AO3 or read here below.

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters is here.

***

Jon returned to work the day after they learned about (or more rightly, remembered) the Leitners. Martin had very mixed feelings about it. Even though Jon was eating again and getting enough sleep and making a show of taking his vitamins, Martin wasn’t sure he’d ever feel like he had taken enough time to recover. More than once, he found himself daydreaming about what it might be like if Jon just decided he was never going back to the Institute. Sure, Jon had said it wasn’t an option, but that was before—well, before now. Maybe, if things weren’t going like he’d assumed, he could be convinced to work somewhere else and finally get away from all of this. Or maybe work nowhere, if he wanted. Martin could make that work. He’d taken care of two people on one job before.

On the other hand, the Leitners had really shaken him. It felt like the Institute was sitting on a bomb that could go off at any time if someone took a wrong step—and most of the people walking on it didn’t even know it was there. If it ever had felt as simple as just leaving, it certainly didn’t now. And as long as that was the situation, he needed Jon there. They all needed Jon there.

He’d actually assumed Jon would head straight for the Leitner Room when he got back, but he didn’t. When he asked him about it, Jon’s answer was that Martin had already been there, and there wasn’t any point. That caught Martin off guard—after all, this was the man who not even two weeks ago had re-read every document Martin had tried to read for him—but when he pointed that out, Jon shrugged.

“Maybe I’m trying something different.”

Martin gave him a look. “Really?”

“Why not?” Jon gave what passed for a smile with him this week, and Martin felt like he had to accept it. “Besides, we don’t want to risk drawing attention to them. I think that’s the worst thing we could do.”

The rest of the week was mostly uneventful. Even Jon spent some time in the stacks helping out with client requests, which they somehow had still not caught up on. The only thing that stuck out was that once, on his way out of Sasha’s office, Martin found Jon at his desk going over several page of hand-written text and decided to ask him about it.

“So… Sasha said that people were still coming by with—stories, I guess?”

“Yes.”

“Is that one of them?”

“Yes, I’ve been reviewing them. Sasha really doesn’t like reading them herself, so I’m—” He looked up at Martin. “What?”

“I just didn’t realize. That’s all. That—” Martin frowned down at the papers in front of Jon. “That looks an awful lot like… well, a statement.”

Jon followed Martin’s eyes back to his desk. “I suppose it does. I hadn’t thought about it.”

Martin found the resemblance vaguely troubling, though he couldn’t put his finger on why it stood out to him. Nothing had changed, really, it was just about what it looked like. There were certainly enough other pressing things happening.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mention it,” Jon said, putting his hand on Martin’s arm.

“No, it’s—it’s fine. I guess I should have assumed people were still coming in… I don’t know why it’s bothering me.” He shook his head and squeezed Jon’s hand briefly before turning to head back to the stacks. “I know you’d tell me if there was anything serious. Well, it’s all serious, but anything we could—you know what I mean.”

“Martin, I—"

“No, it’s really all right. I’m just worried about everything, I guess. Sorry for interrupting.”

“You weren’t,” he heard Jon say behind him as he left.

Otherwise, though, things almost seemed to be looking up. Even Tim, spotting Martin on a ladder while reshelving some heavy volumes, commented that Jon looked better.

“I mean—I feel like he does?” Martin agreed, straining to make room on the shelf at an awkward angle without dropping the book in his hand. “I think some—time off—actually did him some good.”

“Or maybe he was so heartbroken about missing our lunch together that he decided he couldn’t stay home another day.”

“I’m sure that was it, Tim.” Martin rolled his eyes as he finally managed to squeeze the book onto the shelf.

Tim was ready to hand him another volume from the cart when he paused, looking up at Martin and down at the cart again. “Wait, was that number—did it end with .5268 or .57?”

Martin looked back at the book he’d just placed on the shelf. “Let’s see—damn it, it was .57.” They hadn’t been paying attention, and they’d managed to miss the poorly placed divider on the cart. Now Martin was going to have to get the book back out of the shelf he’d only barely managed to squeeze it onto, although that maybe explained why it had been so difficult in the first place.

“Sorry,” Tim said. “That was my fault.”

“No, not really. I could have caught it too.”

“Be careful.” Tim shifted to the other side of the ladder as Martin leaned precariously toward the book that now didn’t want to come back out. “You know, Jon’s lucky to have you to take care of him.”

Martin was glad he could blame the color in his face on his efforts to pull the book.

“Are you taking care of yourself?”

“Um—what?” He almost had it now. “I guess? Yes? What are you getting at?”

“Just that I’m still here to listen. If you want to talk about—what happened.”

The book finally came loose, and Martin barely managed to hang on to it and keep his balance on the ladder—but he did. “Here,” he said, tossing it down to Tim once he’d regained his footing. It was his only answer.

***

Even the weekend felt better. He was finally relaxing a little bit about the Leitners—after all, they’d been there for several months and nothing had happened yet, and they were flagged now if anyone asked about one. There were very few people with a key to the room—just the others in the archives and maybe Elias—and none of them were likely to take a sudden interest in them as long as they didn’t attract it.

Jon stayed in bed with him. They went to the store. They made breakfast together—well, Martin made breakfast, but it was a real breakfast with eggs and bacon, and Jon watched him make it with more admiration than it deserved. At some point, Martin borrowed Jon’s trimmer, the one he used on his beard, and finally gave himself the haircut he’d been needing. It felt nice; it felt like a normal thing to do. Afterward, he checked on Jon in the sitting room and found him reading.

“Reading anything important?” Martin asked from the doorway.

“Just a book,” Jon said, briefly holding up a small, worn paperback that Martin recognized from his bookshelf. He walked up behind the couch to look over Jon’s shoulder.

“Like—a normal book that regular people read?”

“A normal book, at least,” Jon said, temporarily closing the book on his thumb to look at Martin. “Oh. You did it. Your hair, I mean. It looks—it looks great.”

“You think?” Martin ran his hand over the shortest part, where he could feel the bristle of the fresh cut against his fingers. “You know, I think I finally found a couple grey hairs this time.”

“Get over it.” Jon lifted his thumb to check the page number and then let the book close entirely before turning to rest his head on his arms on the back of the couch. “You do not get to talk about grey hairs.”

“I wasn’t complaining, I was just mentioning it,” Martin protested. “And I like your grey, it makes you look—”

“Do not say distinguished,” Jon groaned. “Everyone always says that.”

“All right—I won’t.” Martin bent down to kiss Jon instead. Jon started to kiss him back, but Martin stood up. “No, I don’t want to distract you.”

“Oh.” Jon raised his eyebrows. “Is that how it is?”

“Yeah. It is. It’s been forever since you’ve read just a book, and—well, it was something you said you missed.” He kissed Jon one more time, but this time on the top of his head. “And… thank you.”

“For what?”

“For—for trying.”

Jon looked surprised for a moment, and then his face softened. “Martin—”

“Nope,” Martin said, backing away from the couch. “We’re done here. You read. I think I may actually go give poetry another shot.”

“Really?” Jon asked.

“Yeah.” Martin shrugged. “Some of my—his—notebooks were in the stuff from storage. Thought I might go through them and see if it’s any good. It’s not like I was doing a lot of writing—well, there.”

“All right.” Jon sat back on the couch, but turned to look at Martin one more time before opening his book. “You know—if you write anything you like, I’d—”

“Oh, don’t worry, I would never put you through that,” Martin joked. “Just—enjoy your book.”

Martin didn’t end up writing anything—just a line or two that he didn’t like anyway—but going through the notebooks was fascinating. He remembered writing most of the poems in them. For some of them, he could even pinpoint exactly what he had been thinking about when he wrote them, or what had inspired them. He wasn’t afraid anymore that he was losing memories; he found he could navigate memories from the two existences almost side by side now, if he tried. It wasn’t a perfect description, but it was sort of like comparing two different edits of the same document.

He didn’t really identify with the version of him that had written the poems in that notebook. In a way, they annoyed him; it felt like going back and reading things you wrote as a child. He had outgrown them, maybe. He felt like there was simultaneously so much more and so much less to everything he’d tried to capture than he’d understood at the time.

Still, that didn’t stop him from wishing he could have been that person, or stayed that person, or become that person—he wasn’t sure how to think of it, but there it was. He’d liked writing that poetry; it had made him happy, inane as it was. He wanted to like writing it again.

***

Of course, Monday brought another unexpected turn of events. It started with Elias walking into the assistants’ office while Sasha was briefing them on the day’s activities. He looked tired after the weekend, which Martin realized was typical for him, but also vaguely enthused.

“Everyone,” he announced, “I’ve brought someone by that I’d like you to meet. A candidate for our new archival assistant position.”

“Wait,” Sasha said, crossing her arms. “What new position?”

“The one you asked me to advertise.”

“Well, yes, but that was like eight and a half weeks ago. Things were—different. We have Jon and Martin back now, thank god. And you never got back to me, so I just assumed you were ignoring me.”

“I have never once ignored you.” Elias shook his head at Sasha in feigned shock. “And to prove it—you just told me last week you were still behind on the archiving work, and that you weren’t comfortable following up with the reports we’ve been receiving.”

“Technically what I said was that I don’t think we should be dealing with them at all, they’re really not what an archive—”

“And as I told you, although only god knows why, some of our patrons are quite interested in those reports. So, we will keep dealing with them, but this”—Elias held up a finger—“is where our candidate comes in. Look, Sasha, I really think you’ll like this—and as always, I promise you’ll get final approval.”

“All right,” Sasha threw her hands up. “Bring them in.”

“Rosie,” called Elias, “please show her in.”

Before Martin could process it, he found himself staring at Melanie King.

“Melanie,” he said, surprised.

“Oh—” Melanie turned to look at him, and her lack of recognition brought him back to the moment. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Um,” Martin stammered. “Well—no. I guess maybe I just—feel like I know you? From your YouTube channel.” He laughed uncomfortably.

“Oh, right,” Melanie appeared equally uncomfortable. “I get that sometimes. Um—well, not all that often, actually. Sorry, tell me your name?”

“I’m—I’m Martin Blackwood. I’m one of the assistants here.” He belatedly stepped out from his desk to shake her hand, and she smiled again.

“And I’m Tim Stoker.” Tim’s relative comfort as he also shook Melanie’s hand seemed to put her at ease, at least until she rested her eyes on Jon. He was still sitting at his desk.

“Jon,” Tim prompted him.

“Hm? Oh, right, I’m—”

“I’m guessing you’re Jonathan Sims,” Melanie said.

“That’s—” He seemed mildly surprised. “Yes. I am.”

“My partner, Georgie—Georgie Barker—she’s the one who saw the ad. Said she’d heard someone she used to know might be working here, and well—anyway, we talked about it, and eventually she convinced me to put in my application.”

Jon realized she was waiting for him to say something. “Oh,” he managed.

Her smile faded slightly. “Well, nice to put a name to a face, anyway.”

Elias gestured toward Sasha. “And this is Sasha James, our head archivist.”

“Hello, Ms. King,” Sasha said warmly as she stepped forward. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“You too.” Melanie took the hand Sasha offered to her. “Mr. Bouchard—Elias—was just telling me about the work you do here, and if you don’t mind, I’d love to chat with you about it.”

“Of course,” Sasha said, leading the way to her office. “Come on in.” Elias followed behind, and they closed the door behind them.

Martin immediately pulled a chair over to Jon’s desk, leaning close and speaking quietly so that Tim couldn’t hear. “What do we do?”

Jon considered. “Nothing, I suppose.”

“But, well—can she—I mean, if she signs a contract, will it be like—”

“No,” Jon shook his head. “No, definitely not.”

“Are you sure?” Martin was still worried. “How can you—”

“I’m sure,” Jon said definitively. “No one’s getting stuck here. Look—that was all Jonah Magnus’s doing, completely. He doesn’t exist here, and when he did, he certainly didn’t have the ability to trap people in his employment.”

“Hm.” Martin still wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Martin, it’s fine,” Jon said, taking his hand. “If it weren’t—if I had any doubt—I’d stop it. I’d find a way. I wouldn’t let her go through that again.”

Martin nodded; Jon’s confidence, at least, gave him confidence. He went back to his desk and continued organizing his tasks for the day, although he was so distracted he hadn’t made much progress when Sasha’s door opened again. She walked out and closed it behind her, leaving Elias and Melanie inside.

“What do you all think?” she asked.

There was a brief silence, and then Tim spoke up first. “It’s a surprise, for sure, but if having someone else around helps you out, I’m all for it.”

“Well, she certainly doesn’t have the sort of background we usually look for, but as Elias pointed out, she has a lot of investigative experience.” Sasha leaned back to sit casually on the round desk in the middle of the office. “Normally that’s not something you’d need in an archive, but as long as we’re being asked to start following up on some of these statements—”

“I can follow up on those,” Jon interrupted. “She doesn’t need to—"

“Jon, onsite research and interviews are exactly what she does.”

“Yes, but as you’ve said, her credentials aren’t—”

“Oh, you’re a certified private detective?” Sasha asked with a note of sarcasm.

“I just meant for an archive—”

“I understand, and credentials are important, but I think we can also all agree that Martin, for example, has become an excellent assistant.”

Tim snorted. “Jon, I dare you to argue.”

Jon ignored him.

“Anyway, Jon,” Sasha continued, “I haven’t forgotten you’re interested in the statements too—I was going to ask you if you wouldn’t mind helping Melanie get adjusted. You know, help her out a bit. That’s assuming we go ahead with the offer and she accepts.”

Jon thought for a moment, then sighed. “All right. Yes.”

“Good,” Sasha said. “Martin, any thoughts?”

“Um—no,” Martin said. “I’m sure she’ll be—she’ll be fine.” Jon had said it would be fine.

“All right,” Sasha said, standing up. “I’ll tell Elias to make the offer.” She disappeared back into her office.

When they came back out, Melanie was smiling and chatting happily to Sasha about an episode of Ghost Hunt UK she and her crew had filmed in Glencoe. Part of Martin was still very nervous for her; the Institute clearly wasn’t the safest place in the world, even if she wasn’t caught there. Another part of him, though, maybe a bigger part, had missed her, and he would be glad to have her around—and seeing her and Sasha together gave him hope, somehow.

“Oh,” Melanie turned just before she and Elias left the office together. “Jon, Sasha mentioned that you’d be helping me get comfortable with things around here, and well—I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“Yes, of course,” Jon said, not looking up from his desk.

This time her smile vanished. “I’m sorry, did I—did I do something to offend you?”

Now Jon looked up. “What? Why would you say that?”

“It’s just—I feel like you already don’t like me.”

“I—no,” Jon said. “I’m—”

“He’s been ill,” Sasha said. “He’s still recovering. Please excuse him.”

“Oh,” Melanie said, but she looked doubtful. “In that case, I hope you feel better.”

“Right,” Jon nodded. “Thank you.”

After she left, Sasha turned to the assistants. “As you may have gathered, she’s already accepted the offer, and she’s quite happy about it. She’ll be starting on Thursday, and I’d like to suggest that instead of lunch this week, we go out to dinner that night to welcome her. Please try to make it, if you can.”

Martin wasn’t sure if he was dreading it, looking forward to it, or both.

***

“Ready for supper?” Martin asked when they got home that night.

“Actually, first—I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor.”

“Sure,” Martin said. “What is it?”

“Would you cut my hair for me?”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Martin crossed his hands in front of his chest for emphasis. “I’m no good with scissors. I mean, I could try to trim the ends if—”

“I meant like yours. Well, not exactly like yours, that’s just—” He cleared his throat. “I want it short.”

“Why?” Martin asked, taken back.

“Would you hate it?”

“No!” Martin said immediately. “No, that—it’s just a big change.”

“Yes, exactly,” Jon agreed. “I think that’s why I want to do it. I mean, I won’t insist if you don’t—”

“No, it’s—if you’re sure, I’ll do it.”

They brought one of the chairs from the balcony into the bathroom. Jon reached back to pull the tie out of his hair, but Martin got there first. He tugged it loose, straightening out the strands that got caught on Jon’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re ok with this?” Jon asked again. “I think you’re more attached to it than I am.”

“Not really,” Martin lied, thinking about how he’d taken to brushing it out of Jon’s face while he’d been so out of it. He did kind of miss those moments. “I mean, it doesn’t actually matter how I feel, but—well, ok, give me a moment to say goodbye.”

“Whatever you need,” Jon said with amusement.

“No—no, I’m good.” Martin sighed and pulled it back again, this time into a low, loose ponytail. “So we’re absolutely going to get hair everywhere. I usually just take off my shirt and then jump under the shower afterward, but we could try a garbage bag or something—”

“I don’t mind.” Jon started to unbutton his work shirt, but then stopped. “You’re ok with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I—oh.” Martin suddenly realized he hadn’t seen Jon without a shirt on since the hospital after Hill Top Road, evidently not wanting to expose his scar again. “Jon, it’s—it’s fine. Sorry I didn’t realize before now.”

Jon still hesitated; Martin bent down and kissed him, reaching to undo the button under Jon’s fingers as he did. “Really, it’s fine. Just don’t black out.” He was trying to add some levity, although he wasn’t sure he pulled it off.

“I think I can manage that.” Jon finished unbuttoning the shirt; Martin took it from him as he pulled off the t-shirt underneath, and tossed them both out onto the bed. He deliberately avoided looking directly at Jon’s chest so as not to worry him.

“You’re really, really sure about this?” he asked, twisting his hand into the ponytail. “I mean, once this is gone—it’s gone.”

“Yes.”

“All right.” Martin took a deep breath, and with the scissors they’d borrowed from the kitchen cut his way through Jon’s hair, just above the tie. “There it is.”

“Oh god.” Jon wasn’t even looking at the hand Martin was holding up—he was looking at his reflection in the mirror and the uneven chin-length mop of hair that was left behind.

“We could leave it like that.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I’m kidding. Here.” He set the hair down on the counter. “Although it is kind of rugged. With your beard, you’ve got a sort of lumberjack thing going on there.”

“Right—very rugged. Until I stand up.”

“Nothing wrong there. You’d be the world’s most adorable hipster lumberjack.”

The look Jon gave him in the mirror said everything.

“All right, all right—here we go.” The trimmer buzzed to life, and bit by bit, the remaining length fell away.

“Where did you learn to do this?” Jon asked.

“Oh—I had a—a friend who taught me years ago. I used to cut his hair.”

“A friend?” Jon asked.

Martin realized he’d stumbled over that pretty badly. “A boyfriend.”

“You can say that, you know. You don’t have to hide it.”

“No—I know.” Martin stopped cutting for a moment to switch out the guide. “Or I assumed, I guess. It’s just that we’ve never really talked about any of that stuff. Well, I know Georgie, obviously—knew Georgie? But that kind of just happened. It felt weird just now.”

“Well, next time it doesn’t have to.”

“Thanks. I—I really do appreciate that.”

Jon nodded. “I’m sorry that—we really did everything backward, didn’t we?”

“Couldn’t be helped.” Martin flicked the trimmer on and off to make sure the new guard was attached properly. “I mean, there are definitely things I wish were different, but it’s not like I regret it.”

“Me neither,” Jon said.

“Besides, we’ve got time to make up for it now.”

Something about the sad smile Martin saw reflected in the mirror made him lean down and press his mouth to Jon’s bare shoulder. It was nice for a moment, but he quickly found himself spitting out hair clippings. “Ok—I do regret that.”

“Oh god, sorry.” Jon turned to try to help him brush some of the pieces off his face.

“And that is why we took the shirt off in the first place,” Martin said when they had gotten most of it, still grimacing. “Anyway, I’m almost done here—just want to get a little more off the top.”

Jon nodded and turned back to face the mirror again, and Martin continued, mulling over the day’s events.

“Jon,” Martin said, “what was with you and Melanie today? You really did seem like you didn’t want to talk to her. Are you that upset about her working on the statements?”

“No, it wasn’t that. I mean, I don’t like it—I’d rather handle it myself, or with you—but that wasn’t it.”

“But I’m right, aren’t I? There was something.”

Jon hesitated, but finally answered. “I think it’s better to—try to stay unattached.”

Martin turned off the trimmer again. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before. “That’s why you’ve never taken Tim up on drinks, too, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Jon, you—you need friends.”

“They don’t need me. And they certainly wouldn’t want to be friends with me if they knew what I brought here.”

“Jon—”

“It’s just better if I keep my distance.”

“Well, I disagree. And I hope you’ll at least come to dinner on Thursday.” Martin could see there wasn’t a point in arguing at that moment. He turned the trimmer on for one last touch up, but didn’t spend much longer on it—he was pretty pleased with it, overall, and it was easy to ruin a good cut by being too picky.

“What do you think?” he asked when he was finished; he was actually nervous to hear the answer.

“It looks great,” Jon said, turning his head in the mirror to look at both sides. “I can’t believe you did this.”

“It really wasn’t that hard,” Martin answered, but now that he knew Jon liked it he had to admit he was feeling pretty proud of it.

“Do you like it?” Jon asked.

“I do.” Martin set the trimmer down and stood back to look at it from farther away. “I’m definitely going to have to get used to it—but I mean, this is easier now.” He stretched his fingers out to scratch the back of Jon’s head.

“Oh,” Jon said, tilting his head back a little. “That’s—that’s quite nice.”

“You know—” Martin started to say, but then stopped as he felt himself blushing.

“What?” Jon said. “Everything all right?”

“I just—I know we don’t usually say stuff like this, but… well, I’ve been staring at you for thirty minutes straight, and you—you’re really quite good looking.”

Jon looked at Martin with his mouth slightly open, but quickly regained his composure. “You don’t have to say it. It’s obvious you think it.”

“Well.” Martin dropped his hand indignantly. “In that case, maybe I—”

“I mean, I can’t think of anything else that would have attracted you to me, so by process of elimination—”

“Oh, shut up.” Martin leaned in and kissed Jon hard, pressing his hands into the now-short hair at the sides of his head. It had been a while since they’d really kissed, maybe since they’d made up after their argument, and Jon returned it with equal insistence. “I can’t believe you turned that into an insult.”

“Sorry. You’re right, I’m not used to it.” Jon kissed him again, gently this time. “Shall I try again?”

“All right, but me too.” Martin tilted Jon’s head up by the chin. “You’re hot.”

Now it was Jon’s turn to blush, but only for a moment. “So are you.”

“No, you can’t just say that. You really are hot, I’m—” Martin cut himself off, realizing the hypocrisy of what he’d started to say. “All right, this is hard.”

“Maybe just back to this again?” Jon reached to kiss him one more time.

“All right. Until we get more practice.” He couldn't help running his hand through Jon's hair as their mouths came together again.

He could definitely get used to it.

[janeofcakes]

Keep Your Friends Close...: Chapter 8

I’m back again, my friends, and I can’t believe the weekend is upon us already. I have no idea where the time has gone. I feel like I lost the five days. Where was I? What did I do? Who was I with? This new normal really is so strange. That being said, I hope this chapter brings you some solace. I know I always say that, but I really mean it. I would like to use my powers for good. <3

----

Hush little baby, don’t say a word and never mind that noise you heard. It’s just the beast under your bed, in your closet, in your head.                                          -- Metallica, Enter Sandman

The following morning is, to say the least, eventful. John and Sherlock wake at roughly the same time and each showers in his respective bathroom. They actually make a quick breakfast together. Sherlock works on what he calls his “secret recipe” for seasoned scrambled eggs while John mans the bacon and toast. He teases Sherlock while they cook, pretending to look over his shoulder or around his body to see the ingredients. It is absolutely delicious and so peaceful, and John even admits the eggs are the best he has ever had when all is said and done.

After seeing to John’s flat and speaking with the police, they eventually make it to the stadium separately. John has been in his office ever since, catching up on all he had planned to do that morning. He stops for a moment, fingers poised above the qwerty keys, visions from breakfast drifting about in his mind. He looks up from the computer screen on his desk and lets his eyes rest on the wall across the way. Looking at nothing in particular, he smiles to himself. Sherlock was so open, so at ease. So was John, for that matter. It was like something they did every morning. No awkwardness or uncertainty or fumbling for conversation. It was incredibly comfortable, like they had been flatmates for years, and John finds himself wanting it to happen again. Often.

Shaking his head and sighing, John looks back to the screen and reads what he was typing. He had missed out on a lot of work, having spent the whole morning with the police and then searching his own flat with Sherlock. The officers and the detective in charge did nothing but irritate John from the moment they arrived. Their leading questions and thoughtless commentary all but accusing John of being careless with a burglar he “caught in the act” by returning home at just the wrong time. John spent two hours alone trying to make them believe he wasn’t a complete idiot and all while not cursing. A feet in and of itself.

By the time they left, John was mad as hell. Fortunately, his mood improved when he and Sherlock searched the flat. Nothing had been moved or stolen. The sole purpose for the intrusion was to murder John, though John is not sure that makes him feel any better about the whole thing. The intruder left bloody little evidence behind, beyond more bullet holes than John remembers him firing. He began to feel lucky he made it out with only glancing blows. Sherlock had seemed impressed and John had shrugged, suggesting the man was a bad shot. He shook his head, curls bouncing and said no one sends a man who lacks accuracy on a shooting range.

The police had dug the bullets from the walls at which point Sherlock announced they had been fired from a Beretta, probably an M9A3 because it has a threaded barrel to suppress sound and John spoke of bullets whizzing rather than gunshots. When he was finished, nearly everyone in the room was staring in utter befuddlement, even John. Sherlock rolled his eyes and explained that he often read books and studied different subjects when he couldn’t sleep. Firearms happened to have been one of the topics.

“Pretty odd subject to just study at random, don’t you think?” the detective had asked. “Who are you again?”

“Sherlock Holmes,” he replied impatiently. “John and I are colleagues.”

“Holmes, Holmes. Why does that sound familiar?”

“Because he’s the coach for the Rock City Rollers, sir,” a uniformed officer piped up. The detective looked his way.

“The derby team?” he turned back to Sherlock, who was very visibly annoyed. “No kidding. I always change the channel for the news before interviews with the coach.”

“Perhaps you would not be so ill informed if you had a longer attention span,” Sherlock shot back. John inches closer to him, wanting to keep him from going off the rails.

“Sherlock,” he had mumbled in warning. John was hardly the picture of calm either, but stirring up trouble would only delay the detective’s departure.

“The team looks fantastic, Mr. Holmes,” the uniformed officer bubbled, either trying to defuse the situation or simply because he was a fan. “All the players have been really awesome in the bouts so far. Top form.”

“Right,” the detective spoke over him and eyed Sherlock suspiciously. “Just where were you at the time of the attack?”

“In my home.”

“Doing what exactly? Studying up on more weapons to use on your colleagues maybe?”

“What the fuck?”

That was the moment John’s tenuous grip on his simmering anger snapped.

“Why the fuck are you accusing him? He didn’t do it!”

“Oh, really? You saw the culprit, did you? Let’s see,” the detective grabbed the small pad of paper another officer had been taking notes on right out of her hands. He glanced at it for show and fixed his eyes back on John.  “The attacker was dressed all in black with a stocking cap pulled down over his face, so no. No, you didn’t. You’re about six feet, aren’t you? Just about the right size.”

The detective addressed his last comments to Sherlock, who just stared at him with a critical glare. He obviously thought the man an idiot and regarded him as such. He remained silent in the wake of the detective’s accusations, but John. John was thoroughly pissed off. He had stepped right up into the detective’s personal space, a hard expression on his face. His eyes were blazing and his jaw was set, teeth clenched and muscles working. Held back by only a thread’s width, he was quite terrifying. 

“Let me ask you this,” his voice was calm, but laced with tension and the threat of more. “Why didn’t he just finish the job when he found me on his doorstep?”

“Makes it a bit obvious, doesn’t it?” the detective paused to raise his brows for emphasis. “You turning up dead at his apartment.”

“Oh. My. God,” John had just stared at the man in disbelief that evaporated back into anger soon enough when the detective insisted upon giving him an exaggerated look of warning, accompanied by a tilt of his head to indicate Sherlock. John opened his mouth for rebuttal, but felt a light touch on his arm. He would know that touch anywhere, and was that a little odd? It sent a tingle throughout John’s body, gentle and warm. A warmth that found its way up and down his limbs, and to his heart. All from that one point of contact, a feather light touch. And that really does seem odd.

“We’re done here,” John announced in a commanding voice. The detective gave him a very serious look and then turned to the crime scene technicians with a jerk of his head.

“You got what you need?” he angled his head back to John after receiving an affirmative. “We’ll be in touch. Let me know if you think of anything else.”

He handed John his card and gave Sherlock a pointed glare, his features still warning John to keep his distance. For his part, John took the card quietly, fighting not to roll his eyes or lay into the man.

“Thank you. Goodbye.”

John thought that was the end of it, that his mood could not possibly be worse. He was wrong.

He and Sherlock had just finished their own search of the flat. Getting his mind on something else, and having some distance between him and the idiot detective, had done wonders. He was decidedly grumpy, but in a much better place. Until Sherlock opened his mouth. He was in the middle of a deduction based upon the evidence they found and John was listening carefully, but somehow the rest of it disappeared after Sherlock’s last few words.

“...and you’ll have to stay somewhere else, of course.”

“What?”

“You will have to move out until the man is apprehended.”

Sherlock sounded so damn smug, so self-assured. John dipped his chin and glared up at him with fierce eyes.

“I am not moving out,” he growled and Sherlock stared back at him with an air of surprise that is quickly quashed.

“John, this man was clearly here to murder you,” he had said firmly. “There was no other motive - burglary, vandalism and the like. The only items out of place are what you knocked over in the struggle. He left as soon as he lost you. Coupled with what he said..”

“Never mind what he said,” John interrupted in a low voice, thick with anger. He was not going to run. He was not about to let this bastard control him. If that was what Sherlock wanted, he could shove it up his ass.

“He said something else,” Sherlock had said suddenly, pushing the point. “Something you’re not telling me.”

“It’s none of your business!” The dam had broken and Sherlock took the brunt of John’s fury. “Whatever he said or did, none of it has anything to do with you. You’re not my flatmate or my family. We’re barely even friends!”

John saw the sting of the words as plain as if he had hit Sherlock. The face that was always so open with him closed off in a split-second as Sherlock closed himself to John. There was nothing in his beautifully expressive eyes but cold and ice. John had instantly regretted his words and followed Sherlock as he headed for the door, grabbing his coat on the way.

“Sherlock. Sherlock, don’t go.”

“No, you’re right. There’s no reason to involve myself,” he stopped abruptly and turned to face John, his hand on the knob. His movements were so sudden that John almost ran into him. “Except that you came to me. You’d been shot. You could have been killed! And you came to my door. So forgive me for thinking that meant something.”

Sherlock yanked the door open and rushed through, slamming it in John’s face. John had raised his hands to placate the angry man, but they were ignored and simply came to rest lightly onto the door as John leaned against it.

John had felt terrible, defeated. And he still does, sitting in his office hours later. He had not gone to practice that afternoon, too embarrassed to face Sherlock. God, he had been such a fool. Of course Sherlock was involved. John had run straight to his fucking door as soon as he had left his own flat. He involved him.

John is still looking at the wall across from his desk with unfocused eyes. Barely even friends, that is what he had said. It is true they have not known each other long, but John has never had a better friend. He feels like he has known Sherlock for years and yet, he was quick to hurt him so badly. He sighs. What he wouldn’t give to see that silhouette in his door right now.

He glances at the clock and watches for a few seconds as the hands tick away another minute. 10:56. John really should leave. It will be midnight before he gets home. He pushes his chair back to stand, knocking his pen to the floor. He stoops down to retrieve it, but launches himself right out of the chair to the floor instead as his door flies open and someone leaps into the room. John only just stops himself from gasping and giving himself away. Biting at his fist to keep quiet, he silently tucks himself under the desk. He holds his breath, hoping he was not heard because the sick feeling in his gut tells him this is no friendly visit.

For a moment, all is silent and still. The intruder moves quickly to the room’s closet door and throws it open, stamping his feet hard on the floor to set himself into position as he does so. John inhales sharply but silently, hoping the man does not come close to the desk. His mind can only imagine one scenario to explain the man’s position in front of the closet. He has seen it in countless cop and detective shows on telly.

The door closes again and John hears the click of a hammer going back into place. He closes his eyes, but only for a second when the clomping footsteps near the desk. John is frozen to the spot and trying to ready himself to spring up and defend himself, knowing he will be shot in the attempt. He’ll be damned if he goes down without a fight. His eyes dart around for anything he can use as a weapon, but all he has is the pen he bent down to pick up. Given his current posture, John sees only one option. If he kicks the intruder away he should have enough time to get out from under the desk and go at him with the pen. John knows exactly where to hit and make it count. If it comes to that, he will only get one shot at it.

John swallows hard and listens intently as the man takes a few steps. He comes nearer to the desk and John flinches away, the man is so close. Even as John’s muscles tighten, readying to kick, the man turns and walks to stand in front of the office door. John bites his lip, not daring to believe the man will leave. He turns his head until one ear faces the front of the desk, tilting his head to listen.

“He’s not here.”

John’s eyes widen and ice cold fear begins creeping through his veins. It is the same voice that whispered in his ear. It is the same man who shot at him the night before. John stops breathing all together. If this man discovers his hiding place he will not escape this time.

“I know what you said, but he isn’t here,” the man repeats in a bland tone. “He must have left earlier than you thought.”

John listens carefully and moves not a muscle. The man continues speaking on his mobile and John wishes he could hear the other voice. He racks his brain to think of who it might be. Someone who knows he is working late. Someone in the stadium. One of the staff or team? No, it can’t be.

“Right. I’ll check the exam rooms and then go to his apartment again. His car may still be here, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t get a ride somewhere.” A pause. “Wherever he is, he’ll have to go home eventually.”

The office door opens, but the man does not move. Instead, John hears the rustle of clothing as the man looks around one last time. There is a deep inhalation and slow release of breath. He steps through and closes the door. John listens intently at the sounds of his footsteps fading down the hall. He lets out a long sigh of relief, letting his shoulders sag and his head fall back against the desk. John closes his eyes and tries to think. He cannot leave right away, much as he would love to run, or he will surely be seen. He has to wait long enough for the man to check the exam rooms. John is sure it will take the man all of five minutes to complete, but decides he should wait at least thirty. Only way to be certain he is gone so John can sneak out of the stadium as quickly and quietly as possible. He lets out another breath, willing his body to relax. He cannot go home.

John immediately thinks of Sherlock and then shakes his head. Will he help John again after all the things he said? John closes his eyes again and sees bright grey ones staring back at him. He wrinkles his brow as if in pain, the silent anguish that only hurting a friend can cause. A friend? Or more? Does John want more? He cannot deny his interest in Sherlock, nor his attraction. The man could be a bloody underwear model with the way he looks. He is way out of John’s league, but when has that ever stopped him? John smirks and he watches as one of those keen grey eyes winks.

Those ridiculous cheekbones come into view and a smile emerges from the darkness. A very knowing and sly smile. Cheeky bastard. A long column of pale skin glows to life, leading down to clavicles that draw the eye to broad, strong shoulders. As more of Sherlock comes out of the shadows in John’s mind, he begins to realize the coach is not wearing a shirt. The darkness clears away from a firm chest, revealing muscle and skin, miles of pale skin. John can feel desire pooling in his belly. Sherlock is...everything. They have only just met and John is actually so far gone on him that he might as well be a horny teenager again. And Sherlock must know, much as John tries to hide it, but he has never said a word. John really should drop it if Sherlock is not interested and he will. John would never risk their friendship for mere sex. He has never connected with someone on this level before and he will not lose it.

When the darkness begins to fade from below Sherlock’s waist, John’s head snaps up fast enough to give a good crack on the desk. He curses and takes a moment to remember where he is. God, every joint in his body is stiff. He must have fallen asleep while he was waiting. Willing to take the risk, he shifts painfully out from under the desk and onto his knees. Cautiously, John rises a few inches to peer over its surface. The room is empty. His gaze shoots to the clock. 1:26am.

“Jesus,” John says out loud.

The culprit is long since gone. At his flat, no doubt. John wonders how long the man will wait for him there, or if he will come back here. That thought ends the idea forming in his mind of sleeping in his office. He looks at the clock again. With one place on his mind, he tells himself he should just go to a hotel. He does not want to put Sherlock in danger and John has already pissed him off enough. What would turning up at his door after two in the morning elicit?

He should definitely go to a hotel. John puffs out a frustrated breath and rises from the floor, knowing exactly where he is going to go and hoping Sherlock does not kick him to the pavement.

---

Will Sherlock kick him to the curb? Will he give him kindness or throw the baggage out? (Bonus points if you recognize that quote.) Tread carefully, my doctor, tread softly. The moon is low and dark in the night sky. Wickedness is afoot for thee. Listen to me. I’m waxing poetic tonight.  :D

@zentris @toooldforthissh-stuff @shana-movershaker @melmey-fanfics @louise175dk @221b-carefulwhatyouwishfor @technicallywiseoncns @underestimatemethatwillbefun @jhamishw @weirdlittlegoofball @superwholockpotterincamelot @superwholocklmt @ladidragonuniverse @kittenmadnessandtea @srebrnafh @welcometomyharddrive @annecumberbatch @kingdomofbrokenhearts @philliphooper @whodwantmeasaflatmate @gloriascott93 @vvaticancameoss @cow-mow @echosilverwolf @spazzz32 @absentmindedstuff @swissmissing @shuukichan @maeliandmyself @wtgilsa @thetranslucentwallaby @red-pen-revolution @britishaccentfan @dischorde @plasticstrawsmuggler @youknowyougrow

[mksc77]

This is a ff.net request for Andy having an ex-girlfriend show up and Sharon being jealous.  Jealous Sharon isn’t really my thing and is hard for me to imagine, so I tried to make it entertaining enough to make up for the parts that I obviously struggled to write. And I know Madam Secretary didn’t come on Monday nights, but its schedule just wasn’t working for me :)

As was usual for a Monday evening, Andy came home from a meeting to find Sharon and Rusty curled up on the couch and watching Badge of Justice. "What do you guys see in this show? It's awful!" 

"Johnny Worth," Sharon and Rusty murmured at the same time. 

Andy rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on." 

"May McDonald's not hard to look at, either," Sharon commented. "That's one woman I would kiss." 

"Huh..." Andy looked at the TV and back to Sharon, an intrigued look coming over his face. "You would absolutely have my blessing. As long as I get to watch. That'd be pretty hot." 

"Andy!" Sharon reached up and jabbed him in the side. "Don't make me call you Andrew."

Andy grinned. "Maybe I like it when you call me Andrew."

 Rusty looked disgusted. "All right, if your goal was to get the living room to yourselves, you got it. I'm out."

Sharon pawed at Andy with her foot until he sat down and settled her feet in his lap. "Ohhhh, that feels amazing," she hummed, closing her eyes as he kneaded them. "I hate breaking in a new pair of heels. My feet have been killing me all day." 

"How you walk in those damn things without breaking your neck is a mystery to me." 

"Hmm, a little lower," Sharon directed, ignoring him. "Little bit more—there. A little deeper...That's it. Please don't stop." 

"I was kind of hoping I'd hear something like that tonight...I just didn't think your feet would play such a large role." 

"I'd kick you if this didn't feel so good...But keep rubbing, and I could be easily persuaded." Sharon looked over at the TV. "After Madam Secretary." 

"Don't worry, I know where I stand on Monday nights." Andy looked down at his phone when it started buzzing. Catherine. Again. They'd dated several years ago and had come close to getting engaged.  They’d managed to end on friendly terms, but now she was wanting to get back together and wouldn't leave him alone, despite the fact that he'd told her he was in a serious relationship. He didn't realize he'd stopped rubbing Sharon's feet until she impatiently nudged at him to start again "Sorry." Setting his phone aside for the time being, he got back to the task of getting her into bed. 

On Tuesday morning, Sharon had an early meeting and was rushing around the kitchen, trying to get out the door. She heard Andy's phone ding with a text message, and she accidentally looked at it out of habit. "Is that Provenza?" Andy called from their bedroom. 

"No, it's Catherine." Who the hell was Catherine? Sharon had never heard Andy mention a Catherine before. 

Damn it. Andy finished getting dressed and went to the kitchen for his phone, knowing Sharon was going to have some questions.

Sharon eyed him.  “You’re dressed early.”

“Yeah, I might run a couple of errands if I can get out of here in time." 

Sharon was a little suspicious, but she had to leave now to be on time for her meeting. Not about another woman, but just that Andy was hiding something in general. "Okay, well I have to go. See you at work." She pecked him on the lips, grabbed her things, and left. 

Later that morning, Sharon thought it was odd when Andy, Provenza, and Buzz were all a half-hour late and hadn't texted or called. She was checking her phone again to make sure she hadn't missed anything when Andy finally called. "Hey, uh...We caught a murder." 

"Okay, where are you? Are Buzz and Provenza with you? What happened?" 

"Yeah, they're here." Andy paused for a moment. "Uh, we found a body in a pool. Looks like homicide." 

Sharon was confused. "How is this a major crime?...Wait, you found the body? How did that happen?  Where are you?”

Andy sighed. "Well, Provenza and I..." 

Sharon rolled her eyes. "Oh, good, because every good story starts with Provenza and I." 

"I found a house I thought you might like, so I wanted to show Provenza and see what he thought. I brought Buzz so he could film it for you, and then we found the body." 

"Okay, I'll send the others. Text me the address. Tell Morales to let me know when he needs me at the morgue." Well, at least this solved one mystery from that morning.

Later that day, Andy walked by a crowded interview room and nearly panicked when he recognized Catherine. "Provenza!" He hissed. "Who are all of these people?"

 "Huh?" Provenza was busy going through the deceased realtor's phone. "Oh. They were all interested in the house, and it's not too much of a stretch to consider them suspects. Since you want it, too, this will keep any of them from acting on it."

 "You're responsible for this?! And you don't even think it's necessary?" Andy's face started turning red as his voice got more high-pitched. 

"Ye gods, what's the problem?!" 

Andy looked toward the interview room and back at Provenza. "Catherine's in there." 

"Catherine who?" 

"Catherine. You remember. Catherine." 

"Was she the one with the cats or the one with the eye twitch? You’ve gotta be more specific with the who’s who of your dating history, Flynn." 

Andy shook his head. "No, no, Rachel had the cats. Amanda had the eye twitch. Catherine's the one—" 

Provenza's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah, the one you almost—" 

Andy nodded. "The one I almost. And now she's been texting me for the last few days, wanting to get back together." 

Provenza chuckled. "I tried to tell you this would all go to hell when you started calling the captain 'Sharon.'" 

Andy rolled his eyes. "You're not helping." 

"Oh, I wasn't trying to." 

"Lieutenants? Is there a problem?" Sharon walked up and looked from one to the other, wondering why they hadn't made a move. 

"Ah, no." Andy looked around, trying to conceal his growing panic. Sharon had stopped trying to understand Andy's and Provenza's antics long ago, so she didn't think much of their odd behavior. 

"Well, come on, then! I'd rather not be here all night." 

Andy's face turned pale. "You're going in there, too?" 

"To speak with potential suspects? Yeah, I'd planned on it, if that's all right with you." Sharon impatiently nudged Andy forward. 

Andy thought quickly. "It looks like you guys have it covered, so why don't I, um, try to find out more about the ex-husband?" As far as Catherine knew, he was still in robbery-homicide, so if he could manage to stay away from her, he might get out of this alive. Sharon gave him a questioning look, but didn't press him about it. 

Andy retreated to his desk. A couple of hours later, he got a warning text from Provenza that they were about to let everyone go, so he went to hide out in the bathroom for a few minutes. When it sounded like the crowd had died down, he waited a couple of minutes before going back to the murder room.  Just to find himself face-to-face with Catherine. So much for that plan. 

"Andy! I was hoping I'd run into you." 

Andy looked over his shoulder toward the interview room door and back at Catherine. Much like the murder victim, she'd had some work done, no question. Both to her face and other areas that he couldn't help but notice. "I told you, I'm in a relationship." 

"Oh, please, you're going to have to come up with something better than that. I won't try to pressure you into getting engaged this time. I don't want that anymore. Come on, we were great together." 

"We can't do this here—" 

"Can't do what here?" Sharon approached them, noticing the sexual tension immediately. The nervous look on Andy's face and his avoidance of the interview room were helping her put the pieces together. "You guys know each other?"

"You could say that." Andy shot Sharon a pleading I'll explain later look, but he couldn't catch her eye. He could tell by her expression that she was already well aware of the answer to her own question. "This is Catherine. We, uh, dated a long time ago. A really long time ago." 

"Ah, Catherine." Sharon's demeanor turned from mere amusement to slight suspicion. Of course Andy had old girlfriends that he might run into every now and then, but texting them was a different story. If it was even the same Catherine, but she had a sneaking suspicion that they were one and the same.

Andy smiled nervously. "It was so long ago that there were still cops around older than Provenza the last time we saw each other." He'd forgotten that Sharon had seen where Catherine had texted him that morning, and he didn't blame her for being taken aback. 

"I see." Sharon wasn't the jealous type, but this woman and her not-so-subtle attempts at disguising her age and once-smaller breasts unnerved her. The past is in the past had been her mantra regarding Andy's former relationships so far, but seeing it in person was different. "Well, Catherine, it was nice meeting you. Thank you for your help today." There was no question from Sharon's tone that what she really meant was goodbye, and Catherine took the hint, having guessed pretty quickly that Sharon was Andy's "relationship." She gave Andy a look that said this isn't over and left. 

Sharon couldn't help but smile to herself when Provenza walked out of the interview room, widened his eyes in panic at the sight of the three of them, and did a 180 and went right back where he had come from. That brought her back to reality, and she pushed Andy and his sack of plastic, fifteen-years-his-junior ex-girlfriend to the back of her mind for the next few hours. 

Later that evening, Sharon sat on the balcony with a blanket and a glass of cabernet. She'd never doubted Andy's devotion to her for a second, but knowing that a much-younger ex-girlfriend had been texting him was getting under her skin. He could've at least told her about it. She still didn't know why she was letting it bother her so much. Even if this Catherine low-quality-plastic-surgery-barbie-knockoff were after Andy, she knew the efforts wouldn't be reciprocated. But why was Andy still communicating with her? Looking back, Andy had been acting strangely, especially sometimes after reading a text, for a couple of weeks now. If there was nothing to hide, then why was he acting so weird? Her suspicion heightened when she got a text from him that he was going home after dinner with the AA member he sponsored instead of to the condo. That was pretty common, but in light of recent events, her mind was in overdrive. 

Sharon went inside to refill her wine and returned to the balcony. She called her sister, not to talk about Andy, but just to get her mind off of him before it drove her crazy. By the time they hung up, she heard the balcony door sliding open, and she was surprised to see Andy. "I thought you were going home." 

"I was, but then I realized what that might have looked like..." 

"Hmm." Sharon sipped her wine and looked out over the city. She'd actually been looking forward to relaxing alone and having her bed to herself, as she knew deep down that Andy wouldn't be unfaithful. 

Andy stood awkwardly by the door, not sure what to make of her mood. "Do you want me to go home?" 

"You're an adult, Andy, I want you to do whatever you want to do." 

"I want to be with you. That's all I want. I promise." 

"Yeah, you've made that clear." Sharon didn't know why she was in such an ill mood about this, but he was annoying the hell out of her with every word. 

Andy wasn't sure what to do now. She seemed to want to be alone, but going home seemed like a dick move at this point, so he settled for going inside and changing into his pajamas. When he came into the living room, Sharon was refilling her wine glass in the kitchen. Instead of placing a soft hand on his shoulder or pecking him on the cheek like she normally would've done when she walked by him, she fixed him with an irritated look. "I'm taking a bath." Sharon placed her wine glass on the edge of the bathtub and sifted through her bath oil collection while her water filled up. Finally settling on a rose scent, she discarded her clothes on the floor and set a towel nearby. After tying up her hair and starting a playlist on her phone, she climbed in and slowly lowered herself into the hot water, hoping it would help her relax. She didn't like how she was acting, but she was aggravated and couldn't help it. Only the Good Die Young usually put her in a good mood, but it wasn't doing anything for her this time. The water was getting cooler by the time she finished her wine, so she climbed out and dried off. She was in a slightly better mood, but not much. It had been a long day, so she said a quick goodnight to Andy and got ready for bed. 

Sharon's mind was still racing long after she felt Andy climb in beside her and softly kiss her cheek. As usual, he fell asleep in just a couple of minutes, and she was still running through the day's events in her head. She hadn't thought much of his remarks about the realtor's "enhanced" physique, but after seeing Andy's ex-girlfriend and hearing a couple of remarks about how the realtor was known for getting a little too friendly with potential buyers, she was starting to have doubts. 

The next morning, Andy got up early and made breakfast. He knew he hadn't done anything wrong, but he hadn't exactly handled the Catherine situation very well, either. It was going to be a long day, and he guessed Sharon would be opting for coffee, so he went ahead and got it started and placed her favorite mug on the counter while she was in the shower. 

Sharon smelled coffee as soon as she stepped into the hallway from the steamy bathroom. With her silk robe wrapped around herself, she padded down the hall with wet hair and bare feet. She'd been running through the case in her head, and she couldn't help but laugh at remembering Julio's amused-turned-somber "butt...implants, ma'am" comment. But, all that did was remind her of Andy's comments and the doubts she’d started to have the night before. 

Andy was standing at the stove, cooking eggs, and damn it if he didn't look so cute in his striped pajamas when she wanted to be angry with him for a minute. "Thanks," she murmured as she filled her mug. She took her coffee back to the bathroom, brushed out her wet hair, and applied her makeup before going to eat breakfast. 

"Crap, these are a little runny," Andy muttered as he scooped some eggs onto a plate. 

"Oh, those aren't firm enough for you, either?" Sharon retorted. 

Andy turned around, and Sharon felt a little guilty when she saw the pained expression on his face.  "I've been either ignoring Catherine's texts or trying to get her to stop, and I told you I didn't mean anything—" 

"I know." 

"Then what's with the cold shoulder?!" Andy demanded. 

"Nothing, Andy, just—I just—just give me a minute, okay?" Sharon knew she had nothing to worry about, especially since Catherine's uneven implants obviously hadn't been done by a doctor as skilled as the murder victim's doctor, but this was the first time she'd even thought about doubting Andy so far. She wasn't sure how to handle her feelings about it, but they would have to wait for now. 

Sharon hurried through breakfast and quickly got dressed. "I have to stop by Taylor's office on my way in, and that's never a quick process, so I'm going to go ahead and go." 

Andy nodded. "I need to go home tonight.  I have a guy coming to look at my dishwasher and a couple of things I need to take care of at the house.  You can stay over, or you can FaceTime me as many times as you want. That's all I'm doing, I swear." 

"I know, Andy." Sharon stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "See you in a little while." 

Late that afternoon, they reached a bit of a standstill in the case, so Sharon sent everyone home for the night so they could start fresh the next morning. She was kind of hoping Rusty would be staying at Gus's again so she could have a rare night to herself at the condo, but she wasn't disappointed to find him at home that night, either. She had a feeling that he'd been avoiding her lately, not wanting to talk more about his other mom's baby, and she and Andy had spent a lot of their free time looking at houses, so she hadn't seen much of him. She was tempted to talk to him about calling his mom and his unfavorable attitude toward the baby, but she decided to give him a break tonight. They ordered a pizza for dinner, and they were watching TV when Sharon remembered that she had the video from the house Andy wanted to buy. She could tell before they even played the video that Rusty wasn't thrilled with the idea of a new house, but her preoccupation with her own thoughts kept her from dwelling on that for the time being. As irritated as she was with Andy, his impish grin at the beginning of the video made her heart melt, and she realized that she missed him tonight. He was lucky he was so damn cute. 

Rusty seemed to read her mind. "What's with you and Andy? You guys seemed kind of weird today." He didn't necessarily want them to break up, knowing how that would hurt Sharon, but he couldn't help but hope that something had slowed down the "buying a house/moving in together" conversations.

"It's nothing, honey. Just a misunderstanding. We'll work it out." 

"Whatever it is, which is worse?" Rusty asked, never missing a chance to throw Sharon's own words back into her face. "Whatever you're arguing about, or being here without him?" 

Sharon rolled her eyes when she recognized the advice she'd given him about Gus not so long ago. "We're not arguing, it's fine. We just—can you believe Buzz jumped into the pool like that?" She asked, changing the subject. 

Sharon went to bed not much later, but between Rusty's obvious apprehension about a new house and feeling guilty about how she’d been acting toward Andy, she couldn’t sleep.  She sat up and texted him, hoping he was still awake, and she felt a little better after they’d texted back and forth a few times.  After telling each other goodnight, she was able to find sleep a little more easily. 

The team wrapped the case on Thursday evening, and Andy hung back in the murder room with Sharon as everyone else hurried to get out. There hadn't been much time to talk, but the distance from him and the distraction of the case had allowed her to let her aggravation simmer and see the situation more clearly. Andy knew her well enough to know that she just needed a little space sometimes, but he had sensed a change in her demeanor toward him and was pretty sure she was ready to talk. "Look, Shar, I blocked Catherine's number, which I should've done weeks ago, but I didn't want her to find out and be hurt. We were serious years ago, but she started texting me out of nowhere just a few weeks ago. I kept telling her I was with someone else and wasn't interested, hoping she'd give up, and I just didn't handle it very well when she didn't. You can read our texts—" 

"That's not necessary, honey." Sharon hoisted her purse over her shoulder and laced her fingers through Andy's. "Let's go home." She leaned against him as they walked toward the elevator, and she couldn't help but laugh when she thought of the poor woman's lopsided breasts. "I haven't seen such a botched boob job since the nineties!" 

Andy had noticed as well, as it would've been incredibly difficult not to, but he didn't want to respond the wrong way and start the fight all over again. "Really? I, uh, didn't notice." 

"You didn't notice?! They were like this!" Sharon pointed one index finger toward the ceiling and her other one toward the floor. 

"Yeah, well, I was a little distracted." Andy pressed a kiss to the side of her head, pausing to smell her hair. 

A couple of nights later, Sharon closer her book and placed it on her nightstand. Andy looked down as she lay against him and traced her finger down his chest. Her mind had drifted back to the most recent case, and she was suddenly curious about something. "Do you have any fantasies?" 

Andy looked confused. "What do you mean?" 

"Sexual fantasies, I mean. After the last few days, this obsession with perfect appearances just has me curious." 

"Oh. Why? You might do it?”  Andy asked incredulously.

Sharon shrugged, but gave him a look that clearly said yes.

Nurse and patient," Andy answered, without hesitation. 

Sharon looked up at him. "Really? I wouldn't have thought that." 

"What would you have thought?" 

Sharon shrugged. "I don't know. You strike me as the French maid type." 

"Well, it used to be banging the boss, but..." Andy kissed the top of her head. "That fantasy has become a reality. While we're on this, any for you? You can't bring this up and not tell me." 

"Pilot and passenger." 

The answer was so quick and certain that she had obviously thought about it before, and it was Andy's turn to be surprised. "Talk about unexpected. I thought you would've gone with something like the student and the professor." 

Sharon shook her head. "All of my professors were either old as dirt or assholes, sometimes both. That fantasy never did much for me." 

"Well, then, valued passenger, allow me to—" 

"No, I'm the pilot," Sharon interrupted. 

"Oh, right. Of course you are. So, now that we know this about each other..." 

Sharon cupped her hand behind Andy's head and pressed her lips to his neck. "Prepare for takeoff."

[annakie]

An Annotated Mass Effect Playthrough, Part Nine

Previous Posts: 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

Wheren we run out of sidequests, so we head back to the Citadel already.

With the quest log pretty empty, I didn’t feel like flying around the galaxy hoping to bump into something Hackett wanted me to do already, so let’s go finish up some of those loose sidequests and pick up some more!

I didn’t grab a screenshot of this, but one of the mods (faster elevators maybe?  Or MERe?  IDK!) COMPLETELY removes the scanning component from getting on and off the ship.

I don’t remember the exact origins of this, but one tick Annakie Shepard has is... she really really fucking hates being scanned.  And it probably was because of how long the scanning bit of getting on and off the ship here took, but I used to always try to outrun it if possible, or at least put up the effort.  I’m so glad it’s not here at all.

The only acceptable scan is Chakwas scanning her for medical reasons, and even that is just barely ok.

Anyway, here we are, freshly not-scanned, heading right down to C-Sec to... oh no what’s this?

Ah.  Yes.   Mikhailovich.  Here for inspection.

One of the reasons I cheat in Paragon points is that it’s nearly impossible to ever make Mikhailovich happy unless you don’t come back to the Citadel for a very long time.  So maybe I could have gone to Noveria and done the Paragon Point Cheat, but one cheat or another, doesn’t really matter.

The Mikhailovich encounter is another one of those things that didn’t have to be in the game, but is great worldbuilding.  Not everyone agrees with the Normandy being built, or the turian design, etc.   Mikhailovich is right that some of the things we built here could have been tested in a lab, you know.  It was a huge chunk of money, but it’ll be wrong later in thinking it’s a waste.  He also again shows that people aren’t sure that working super close with the turians is a good idea, which, again, he’ll be wrong about, but it’s a good thing to see differing opinions on a lot of things.

Anyway, I like this bit not only for that reason but to see Kaidan’s salute.

Finally, after lingering at the dock for who-knows-how-long while the Admiral inspected our ship, we get down to C-Sec, ready to...

Oh what’s THIS now?

Time for another interview, this one a little more voluntary.  

Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, Westerlund News.

She’s a character I have very mixed feelings about.

On one hand, well, I used to love to punch her out.  And now I never do.

She’s clearly digging for an angle here in her interviews.  She’s reporting for humanity, not the council races or galaxy as a whole.  But answering her diplomatically here, she’s another character who questions you and what you’re doing, but doesn’t actually step over any lines.  It’s more when you get testy with her here, she gets touchy back.

It would be a shitshow with the fanboys I think if you took out the option to hit here.  But wow that moment... didn’t sit right, especially when it was an MShep doing it but it’s not a great look for Femshep either.  Nobody should hit ANYBODY unless it’s actually necessary.  Getting your feels hurt by a few tough, even unfair questions... does not call for punching.

Especially today when we’re already getting scary close to losing freedom of the press.  Being diplomatic with her really nets the best responses in 2 and 3, as well.

And maybe if we hadn’t just gotten raked over the coals by Mikhailovich it’d be less grating to then get questioned by a reporter.  But I find it interesting how the game keeps pushing and questioning Shepard, and maybe even trying to find holes where maybe Shepard or the Alliance isn’t completely right, or could be questioned.

Damnit, Chorban and Jahleed.  Just kiss, already, neither of you are trying to kill the other!!  

I do love that Chorban figures everything out based on your scans... just like... a couple of years too late.  Anyway, I already finished all the scans, no way I’m not finishing this quest with Chorban for that sweet XP.

And YOU, using a girl with no undercover experience and putting her in Chora’s de-- what’s that?  Conrad dies if I end this quest early?  SIGH.

Also... Gideon Emery.  So you’re fine.  All is forgiven.  I’ll do your dirty work.

Helena Blake!  I DEFINITELY won’t forget to go speak to her, get back on the Normandy, do another planet quest, realize I didn’t speak to her, then go back to the Citadel just to actually pick up this quest, then pretend later on in this update that I remembered to speak to her all along!

I mean, speaking as if I were someone who hasn’t played the next two games, this is DEFINITELY SUSPICIOUS right?

I guess in a way, we did pull our gun on Conrad all along.

Just give me the damn mods.

Honestly, I love this part of the quest because you can COMPLETELY fuck up by being too goody-goody.  I have probably had to reload after mindlessly clicking paragon answers more times than I care to admit.  This time, I remembered to not obey the law.

The second reason I wanted to come back to the Citadel is that after one planetary mission, Morlan’s Iconic Armor shop (which, again, is thanks to ME1Recalibrated) sells special armor for Kaidan, that looks like his ME2 armor, so he has his own unique look.  

A picture from later, once the armor texture is loaded correctly.  (Turns out it required a restart.)

I LOVE IT.  Thank you, MERecalibrated team!  Welcome to Kaidan’s look for the rest of the game.

Let’s head up to the presidium!

Whoops, shoulda brought Ashley along.  I’m sure whatever he wanted to talk about can wait til later.

BTW, that gif isn’t sped up.  

If you don’t have the console enabled and aren’t setting your out of combat runspeed to at least 800 whenever you’re anywhere you have a lot of running to do, then consider doing so.   I’ve found 800 is the perfect amount of fast without leaving me slamming into walls constantly

The annoying thing is that every time you have a major area transition or have to reload the game, you have to do it again, but after the first time it’s 4 keystrokes.

` then up arrow, then [enter], then ` again.

Also your companions may fall behind, but that’s only an issue for the places they have ambient dialog.  So mostly I start using it on the Citadel after going everywhere once, and then most of the time on the Normandy and sidequests.

Oh let’s talk to this nice lady.  Oh no, her sister has been kidnapped, how sad!

Well, the poor woman deserves my help, I’m sure it’s all on the up-and-up.  Sure, I’ll rescue your sister!  I’m glad we have this friendly relationship that will be profitable and non-lethal forever!

You DID know that Anderson and Udina comment on each major mission afterwards, right?  It took me more playthroughs than I care to admit to discover this.

Also, this is a kind of humanizing moment for Udina here.  He tells us how the council isn’t happy that we lost the prothean ruins at Therum, then Anderson stands up for us (we love you, Space Dad), and then he actually really backs off and says in a much softer tone “I know, I know.  But we all get judged on how you behave.”

And again, we’re not meant to love how he says it, but um, Udina is right.  Everything we do has repercussions throughout the Citadel, and sometimes the Galaxy.

Poor Liara, the only one left without an iconic armor in ME1.

Also, like Tali earlier, she hilariously has lines in quests we turn in or make updates to that she has no business knowing about.  I guess she read all the questlogs while traveling back to the Citadel.

While we’re here on the Citadel, let’s take a flycam visit around to the edge of the room, shall we?

So we’re heading out, towards this building, past the Mass Relay sculpture.

What you can see as soon as you’re near it and then over it, is that that building hides the seam where the water meets map.

From just beyond it, there’s the apartment-looking building, for whatever reason you can see through the textures on the other side, leaving just the roofs/floors visible (the slats).

It took quite a while to go this far, but eventually, you can find the invisible wall where the cars spawn from, and not long after, the map ends.  The map is very curved, btw, that’s no illusion.  There’s no chance you could see this far without flycam.

Looking back, you can see the bridges in the distance, but the Relay sculpture and where Shepard is standing is very far away, quite difficult to see even if the full-sized screenshot.

I love how huge these maps are.  It makes the illusions really work and the sense of scale works BECAUSE it is actually just... that big. 

Well, back to smaller issues.

Again, a great quest not only from a memorability perspective, but a worldbuilding one.

How does religion work in this galaxy?  Well, some people still have it.  Enough that there’s laws in governing how people are able to spread that religion.  I think that the council actually enacted a fairly sensible law here -- they cannot allow zealots to take over near the seat of government, but also people should be free to worship as they please.  

I myself am a person of faith who, despite being brought up in a HIGHLY Evangelical movement, now very much believes that people should be able to worship as they choose, (or not at all!) but also that faith is a private matter and shouldn’t be forced on others.  

So yeah, the hanar is being unreasonable, but should still be spoken to with respect.  It’s good that this particular hanar takes it well.

I am honestly dying to know how the hanar deal with the absolute proof that the Enkindlers were just... people.  I mean we saw the one hanar in ME3 react to Javik, but you have to think that the religion as a whole must get shaken up a great deal after the game ends.

Also... seriously read Mass Effect: Annihilation (the quarian ark book).

Anyway, I like resolving this peacefully and getting the hanar to leave peacefully.  Calling someone a big stupid jellyfish is hilarious in the moment, but not so nice once you think about it.  

Ah, Michael and Rebekah.

I love this quest because... it’s not cut and dry.

I don’t think either of them is wrong. I think they’re facing a tough choice and they both have good points.

For a long time, though, my response has been that it’s Rebekah’s body, her choice.  

But the funny thing was, this time when I was playing, I didn’t see this as just an allegory to a woman’s right to choose.  From Michael’s POV, it’s more of an allegory to Anti-Vaxx.  Obviously back in 2007 when the game came out Anti-Vaxx wasn’t nearly as much as a concern as it is now, so I love that this small part of the game actually grew more meaningful over time.  

Yes, there’s a SMALL chance you could hurt the child from the procedure, but a greater chance of harm if you don’t.  I had a harder time choosing this time, like, oh, am I going to lean a bit more towards being pro-choice, or pro-vaxxination?  I’m pro both of those things??

I still sided with Rebekah.  Mostly because I know the kid turns out OK either way.

Well, for a couple of years, at least.

Emily!  You changed your clothes!  What’s that?  You want me to plant bugs?  Won’t someone notice?

Guess not.  Not even this bug.

I’m sad that this is the last we’ll see of Emily Wong face to face.  But hey, a good reporter, and good person.  :salute:

Kahoku... thank you for finding out about Cerberus and telling us.  The first time we hear the word I think, in the game?  

You will be avenged.

Welp time to head up to the ship and go off on some sidequ--

I mean... Uh, time to go talk to Helena Blake, OBVIOUSLY.

(Also Liara you cannot climb that wall, stahp.)

I love them having just a bad bitch like Helena with her sneaky-plan to kill her business partners so totally above the board by Shepard, but hey, she’s just a concerned citizen giving tips to law enforcement, right?  She’s awful, and she knows it, and she’s cool with it.

Well, since Ashley magically appeared in the party without me going to the Normandy AT ALL, as long as we’re here, let’s go talk to Samesh Bhatia

A great moment for Ashley, remembering her friend, and treating her husband with so much care and kindness. OBVIOUSLY we can do this very easy thing for him.

Fuck, this just got a lot more complicated.

I love this quest because it puts you between a rock and a hard place.  Again, neither side is wrong.  Samesh SHOULD have his wife’s body back.  But it IS important research.

For a long time, I didn’t give a shit about the research and would get the body back, no matter what.

But so many more lives are saved with the research.  So this time I ask him to understand, and he does.  But it never sits quite right, either way.  

As my other SciFi favorite franchise* reminds us in one of its most poignant moments...  Sometimes the needs of the many do outweigh the needs of the one.

Okay now we’re heading back to the Normandy for the first time this update, and next time, back out into space!

*Star Wars is a Space Opera, not SciFi.

[dead-inside-mcgee]

Beyond that door - Part 2

The lesser evil

Summary:  Chase sits in silence, feeling embarrassed for no particular reason. He doesn’t even think about the fact that he never gave the man his name.

Word Count:  2028

Taglist: @rabbitsartcorner @caori-azarath @murder-schmurder 

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen! Tonight we bring you exclusive interviews with our latest mayoral candidates. Starting with a young man coming from right here in Septic City, let me introduce you to Mr. Jameson Jackson!” 

  “Thank you Miss. Cook.,” Jameson said with a sharp, British accent. 

  No matter what you’re wrong. 

  “Now Mr. Jackson. You claim that you grew up here in this city, but your accent is British. Why is that?”

  “Well you see, my parents were British, and they had me after moving here. I simply just inherited it from them.” His voice is slightly shaky, and cracks occasionally. He clearly wasn’t made for public speaking, but he holds himself together. 

  “Interesting. Now time for a big question. Why are you running for office?”

  “Ah, now that would be a good question. Well let me think.” 

  There’s a pause. 

  “Well there’s a few reasons.” Jameson states. “When I was young I grew up without a voice. Nothing I ever said mattered. I grew up believing that nothing I ever said would matter. And I look around today and see people just like me believing their voice means nothing. So my goal is to give those like me a voice and make sure they are heard.

  “There is also the fact that I’ve always been looked down upon in my own family. My brother is a famous voice actor, my father runs a business, my mother is a reporter, and what have I done? Have any of you even hear of me before I ran for mayor?” 

  There’s a few awkward glances before the candidate continues. 

  “I want to accomplish something big. Something that people will remember me by. But most of all, I want to do what I believe it right.” 

  “You know Mr. Jackson, they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.” 

  “And that’s very true! Many people who wanted what was right, did terrible things to get it. Because they thought… it’s what they had to do…” His tone shifts, along with his expression.

  “Umm… Well that’s very interesting Sir. The people would also like to kno-” He cut her off. 

  “I will not be answering any more questions.“ He states and walks off, followed by a few baffled reporters. 

  ***

Chase flicked off the TV and joined Marvin with observing their guest. After tying him to a chair the doctor passed out again, and after failing to wake him, they decided to just wait until the potion wears off. 

  “Nothing interesting on TV?” The witch asks. 

  “Not really.” He sighs.

  Marvin glances around. “Want to play a board game or something while we wait for him to wake up?”

  He glances at the clock. “Actually, I should be heading home. It’s late, I have work, and I need a new phone.”

  Marvin nods, trying not to look disappointed. “Can’t you take a day off to help watch this guy?” 

  He stands. “As much as I’d love to, it’s not worth the trouble I’d get into.”

  “Okay… At least keep an eye on that guy, Anti, you work with.” 

  “Will do!” Chase makes his way up the stairs and is greeted by the cool night air. 

  It’s about two am, his work starts at eight. If he got home in ten minutes, he could squeeze in at least five and a half hours of sleep before he has to get ready. 

  Oh, who is he kidding? There’s no way he’s going to fall asleep tonight. 

  He wonders around the town, he never noticed just how quiet it was at this time, especially considering how big the town was.  

  Chase finds himself in a small Cafe. He decides to grab a very early breakfast. 

  The Cafe is empty except for the cashier and a man in a bowler cap sitting in the corner. 

  Chase just gets a coffee and a fancy sandwich a plops down at a table. 

  He notices the man seems pretty lonely, so he gets and asks if he could sit across from him. 

  The man nods. 

  “Cool.” Chase sits down and eats. 

  “Tell me,” the man begins. Chase notes that he has a british accent. “What’s a man like you doing out at a time like this?” 

  “I could ask you the same question,” he says through a mouth full of food. 

  The man laughs. “I had a rough day. Or I guess a rough yesterday. Couldn’t sleep.” 

  “Same.” Chase blinks, noticing just how familiar this man seems. “Do I know you.” 

  “Not personally I assure you. You’ve probably seen me on TV.” He lifts off his hat. 

  Chase chokes. “You’re- you’re-!” 

  “Jameson Jackson, at your service.” He holds out his hand. 

  He takes it, his face flushed in embarrassment. 

  “You’re a cyborg, aren’t you?” Jameson says, examining his arm. There was a very faint line where the robotic part met the skin, but Chase thought no one would notice, especially with the mask. 

   “Don’t worry,” he continues, “I won’t say anything. I just tend to notice things. Are you using a mask of sorts?” 

  Chase nods, no longer trusting his voice. 

  “Interesting. I always thought masks were very interesting. I never understood why they were outlawed.” 

  “How did you-”

  “How did I see through it?” Jameson chuckles, letting go of his hand. “Like I said, I tend to notice things. Masks aren’t perfect.” 

  The politician stands up. “Have a lovely day, Mr. Brody.” 

  Chase sits in silence, feeling embarrassed for no particular reason. He doesn’t even think about the fact that he never gave the man his name. 

***

Marvin never liked the silence. The fact that he was used to it didn't change that fact. 

  He liked Chase. For many reasons, he was friendly, and worked hard, and always loved to fill that silence. But he was also stubborn. Even more stubborn than Marvin himself. 

  When Marvin was forced underground, he cut Chase off. He wanted to keep the man safe, and if cutting him off was the way to do it, then he would. 

  But stubborn, persistent Chase, found his way back into Marvin’s life, and this time Marvin couldn’t so easily shut him out.

  The witch was snapped out of his thoughts by a thump and a yelp. He turns to fine his guest had managed to tip over the chair. 

  “Wh-where am I?” Henrik asks. His voice was groggy and high pitched, like he wasn’t used to talking. 

  Marvin fixes the chair upright. “Somewhere no one will ever find you.” 

  The man shivers. “What are you going to do to me?” 

  “Nothing bad. I just have some questions. Can you answer some questions?” 

  Henrik nods, trembling enough to make the chair creek. 

  Marvin pulls up another chair and sits in front of him. “What’s the last thing you remember doing?” 

  “I remember reading. And then sleeping…” 

  “No memories of holding the mayor hostage or threatening to blow up a hospital?”

  Henrik blinks. “Noo…?”

  “Damn it!” He bites his lip and stands up to writing something on the whiteboard. “I was hoping you’d have… something.” 

  “I’m sorry?” He shifted uncomfortably. 

  “”It’s not your fault.” Marvin pulls out a book and flips through it. “Sleep potions tend to cause slight memory loss, and I doubt you were, well, you, during either of those situations.” 

  “I’m confused. Who even are you?” Henrik looked around, his voice a little shaky. 

  “Right, manners.” Deeming the other man harmless, he snaps his fingers and the ropes fall away. “My name is Marvin.” He puts the book back up and holds out his hand. 

  Henrik takes it slowly, his eyes flickering to the myriad of scars that doctorated Marvin’s hand and arm. He then notices how many scars he has on his own hands. 

  The magician notices his gaze. “Do you know how you got any of those?”

  “Papercuts.” He states, but he doesn’t sound so sure.

  “If you say so.” Marvin shrugs and lets go. 

  Henrik slowly shifts to sitting on the floor, finding that more comfortable. 

  Marvin watches him and sighs. “Do you want to play a boardgame or something?”

  He shrugs and Marvin pulls a random box off the shelf.

***

Chase ate lunch alone, as usual. Sure he’d only worked here for a few days, but it seemed like no one really liked him. Maybe he wasn’t friendly enough, or maybe he was too friendly.

  Whatever the matter, he was alone.  

  There were benefits to the loneliness. For one, he could sit back and listen to music instead of having to make conversation. And he could be sloopy without being judged. 

  He was completely fine with eating alone, are hardly lonely, he told himself. 

  He slipped on his headphones to mute his thoughts for a moment. He didn’t pack much of a lunch, just some cold leftovers from a week ago. Not that he was in the mood for anything else.

  Right as he was about to get to the good part of a song, someone tapped his shoulder. Chase grunted and turned off his music. 

  “Do you mind if I sit here?” The man asked. 

  Chase blinked, taking a moment to register his face. He gulped, his face heating up. 

  “I- uh- s-sure.” 

  The man gave a toothy grin and sat across from him. 

  “You’re Chase Brody right?” 

  Chase nods. “And you’re- you’re Anti right..?” 

  Anti chuckles. “Actually, it’s Anthony. But Anti works too. How are you?” 

  “I’m fine,” He squeaks.

  “You sure?” You look a little red.” Anti raises an eyebrow. 

  “Yeah. I’m ok, it’s just a little warm in here.”

  “I can ask someone if they can turn down the temperature.” 

  “No- no. I’m fine.” Why was he getting so flustered right now?

  “Sorry if this is a little forward, but can I have your number?” 

  Chase chokes on air.  “Yes. I mean no. I mean my phone broke last night, so I don’t have a number right now. But I have plans to get one soon.” Marvin said he’d get him a new one, right?

  “Hm, alright. Maybe later tonight I can take you out and get you a new one.” Anti smiles. 

  This time Chase really chokes, going into a coughing fit. 

  “I- I’m fine.” He says between coughs. “I appreciate the offer, but no!” 

  “Oh well. We should go out some time though.” He glances at the clock. “Welp, I gotta get back to work.”

  “But the break just started.” Chase called, but Anti already disappeared. 

***

Marvin signed, pulling out the Monopoly rules again to try and explain them. They were sitting on the floor, an array of pieces and Monopoly money spewed about. 

  “You don’t seem very into this game,” Henrik comments.

  “I’m not really. Monopoly is just boring.” He tossed down the instructions and started putting the game up. 

  “Are you okay?” 

  Marvin paused. “Why do you care.” 

  “Because I’m a human being with basic empathy that can tell when something is wrong.” Henrik stated, crossing his arms. 

  Marvin said nothing, sliding the game back on the shelf. 

  “Fine. You’re right.” He slumped back onto the floor. 

  “So. What’s wrong.” 

  “I’m not about to spill my feelings to someone I met about…” He glances at the clock., “Ten hours ago, that could be a murderous asshole for all I know.” 

  He gulped, turning away. 

  Marvin groaned, putting his face in his hands. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

  “Yes you did, don’t lie.” 

  “I don’t think you’re the bad guy. Or a bad guy in general. I just have too many feelings, and like I said, I’ve only known you for so long.” 

  “I understand.” Henrik looks down. 

  “I just sent my friend to investigate someone, and I'm worried that he'll get hurt. Especially since he doesn’t have a phone, which is my fault and-” 

  The doctor reaches out to touch his shoulder, giving him a sympathetic look. 

  He wipes his face, laughing weakly. “Oh, this is pathetic.” 

  “Don’t say that!” Henrik snaps. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk?”

  “What are you, a therapist?” 

  “I’m a doctor, but I did dabble in psychology,” Henrik says with a prideful grin.  

  “Fine. If you really wanna hear about my issues.” 

[mfackenthal]

The MFackenthal Show with Birthday Girl @lilyofchoices

banner by @whenyourheartskipsabeat

~~~~~

Megs: Hello hello hello! Today is a very very very special day and I am so excited to announce my next guest.  Please give an extra special welcome to our birthday girl, Lily!

The crowd stands up and cheers as Lily comes from off stage, waves to the crowd and gives Megs a big hug!  When Lily sits down, the audience get quiet. 

Megs:  Wow!  Look at how you command this crowd, Lily.  This group loves you!  I cannot believe you have only been here since March.  

Lily: I know!  It feels like it has been so much longer. 

Megs:  So, how did you come up with your tumblr handle? 

Lily: I hate coming up with names and titles. They are the bane of my existence. Just ask any of my friends on tumblr I’m constantly asking them for help or whining at them. Thank the gods I have help. So my tumblr handle is super boring and unoriginal. It is my name (well one of my middle names) and I’m “of the choices fandom” so...of choices. Yeah, you can groan. It’s bad. I know.

Megs:  Are you really telling me, MFackenthal, that your handle is unoriginal?  

Lily: laughs 

Megs: Anyways, tell me, what brought you to the fandom? 

Lily: Well, I live for crazy and this site definitely delivers on that. Joking, kinda. In all honesty, I created that tumblr on a whim after I went looking for more fanfic to read.  I found @perriewinklenerdie @hopelessromantic1352 and @ahumanmishap and loved their writing.  Their writing inspired me to just go for it!   I created this blog just to post shit and geek out with myself about the newest chapter releases and share whatever fics I discovered. I never in a million years expected to find so many friends and awesome people.

Megs:  But find so many friends you did!  

Lily:  Yes, I did!  They’re all amazing. Well … takes calming breath I’ve had my fair share of disagreements in this fandom and while the haters are hard to deal with and they can get exhausting, they are far, FAR outnumbered by those in this fandom that are here to have fun and be crazy and silly and don’t care if your opinions differ from their own. I live for those types of beautiful people that make this fandom amazing! Plus have you seen the level of talent from the writers and artists in this fandom? I’m constantly in awe of them all.

Megs:  The talent amazes me every day!  Speaking of talent - what’s your favorite work that you have created? 

Lily: Damn girl. You are asking all the tough questions. Why ya gotta do that to me? 

Megs:  laughs and shrugs her shoulders  It’s kinda my job, girl! 

Lily:  smirks  I guess I'd have to say that I love the first chapter of my Merida fic. I wrote it as a distraction, a break if you will, from my real life writing which is dry and boring. We had all just made our way through the Open Heart chapter where Ethan tells mc that Naveen is dying and then Pb won’t let us even hug Ethan. I desperately wanted that so I decided to write it. I’m going on chapter 32 of that fic now. I need help. Oh, but my favorite as far as fandom reactions goes was definitely the chapter where that dirty rat stabs Merida. Y'all lost your minds and it was hilarious.

The audience gasps.  “Oh yeah, I remember that chapter.”  “Landry is the worst.” Members of the audience whisper. 

Megs: I remember that chapter.  I feared you’d go the way of @laniquelovewrites and kill Merida! 

Lily: winks

Megs: shakes her head Do you have any advice for other writers or artists?  Especially those from within the fandom? 

Lily: Well, talking to all you not-yet-writers out there - take the ducking leap lovelies! Do it! Don’t worry about language, grammar, flow, tempo, timing, editing, just write it. I rarely edit mine beyond a cursory review. And ya know what? This fandom loves whatever you give us. And I’m at the front of that line waiting to read it. Seriously! Tag me in anything you write! 

Also, don’t be concerned about likes and reblogs. My first fic only got like 15 likes when I first released it. It’s hard not to get caught up in wanting likes and reblogs and comments. Hell, I live for them. And ya want to think that a lack of those means no one likes it, but trust me, there are plenty of people enjoying your work that don’t like, comment, or reblog. Try not to focus on the likes but on your fic and know that there are those out there enjoying the hell out of it!

And I’m always willing to review anything and everything. If you want someone to look it over first, I am here for you.  But I warn you now, I will encourage you to share it with everyone.

By the end of this little speech, the entire audience is up and clapping.  Standing ovation. 

Megs:  Look at that crowd, Lily.  It’s obvious that you speak the truth.  

Lily:  Whispers to Megs: Don’t worry - I can get them all to sit down. Ask me about the choices books. 

Megs:  So Lily, have you read all of the choices books? 

Lily:  I feel like I’m going to have to duck behind this couch as soon as I say what I’m about to say. No, I’ve not played them all. I’ve played most. I tried to play The Freshman, Big Sky Country, Sunkissed, and America’s Most Eligible but I couldn’t. I have replayed countless books. Thomas, Ethan, Sonia, the entire Perfect Match crew, the entire Nightbound crew, and Jake - I’ve played all of their options.

Now Megs, I have only admitted this once and after this we will never speak of it again hangs head in shame I am a sucker for one particularly hated Choices book. Want to take a guess? I've, no joke, replayed this more times than I should admit. No one will follow me after this. I...I, love Home for the Holidays. 

Lily gets up and ducks behind couch while many in the crowd sit down.  

Lily:  This is now my home. I will live back here so no one can see me in my shame. 

Megs:  walks around the couch to sit with Lily loudly saying: Well, as I enjoyed that book a lot and very much miss Nick, if you live back here then I will have to live back here with you … but this is kinda a crappy place to continue this interview so I’m gonna move back to front of the couch, okay?

Megs walks back around the couch and sits down.  

Well, you did get people to sit down, Lily.  Gives her audience the stink eyes.  Where were we?  Oh yes, which book is your favorite? 

Lily: stands up behind the couch Well, I’m going to stay behind the couch at this point because I'm not going to say Open Heart and I know I'm going to hear about it. Hero is my favorite book. It was the first I played and I absolutely loved it! The art! The characters! The story! It had it all! If Pb doesn't give me Hero 2 in 2020 I’m not sure what I’ll do now that they’ve teased me. But I’ve also learned that they like to tease me.  Lily jumps over the couch in a superhero type move and lands sitting down next to Megs.

Megs: Nice moves!  So who is your favorite OTP? 

Lily: I will always say Detective Jason Shaw and my mc Ashtyn Stark to this question. I loved the book RoD until the end when our option of which side to help disappeared and we had to help MPC. I was so excited to see a book that allowed you to pick which side to help, Police/Brotherhood, MPC, or both. You should know by now that I love the villains and all I wanted was for my mc to side with Shaw. 

Bryce and Harper are another OTP for me. I found a few others out there that ship this but @tallulahshh is a godsend when it comes to this ship. Her fics on these two are so amazing! For reals, you should all check them out. She will convince you that this is the ship to be on. 

Megs: Gasps!  I should kick you off this couch for loving a Bryce ship over an Ethan ship.  YOU WRITE FOR ETHAN!  

Lily:  What can I say?  The heart wants who it wants. 

Megs: Yeah, yeah.  What do you do when you’re not producing work for the fandom?  What else do you do for fun? 

Lily: I teach Latin and Formal Logic and I also write (journalism and academic pieces).   My fanfics are my break from my dry writings. I know y'all are dying to read about how Latin could revitalize the modern American educational system. I love to cook, read, hike, and spend time with my family. I live in the city now but I'm a country girl at heart. Give me open fields to run through, dense forests to explore, water to kayak on and I'm a happy one.

Megs:  That sounds wonderful.  Lily, one last question - do you have any questions for me? 

Lily: Ah, you should not give me this power. What non-LI would you make a LI if you could and why? I must know, please tell me!

Megs:  Oh, that’s easy - Bastien!  The drama is already built in because of his part in the Tariq plot and damn @stopforamoment, @bobasheebaby, and @lolablackwrites have made that man irresistible. 

A second and more strange one is actually Emerald Phan from High School Story: A Class Act Chapter 2.  She’s technically an adult when I’m (MC) technically a high schooler … but I would date this gal.  She’s gorgeous!

Before you leave, Lily, I need to ask one last thing of you.  Please close your eyes. 

Lily closes her eyes

@msjpuddleduck, @anxious-arliah, @meindraws, @keepcreative, @brightpinkpeppercorn, @tallulahshh, @twin-skltns all come on stage, pushing a large cart with a beautiful cake that says “Happy Birthday Lily!”  They all start singing Happy Birthday.  The entire audience joins in. 

As soon as people start singing, Lily opens her eyes and smiles really big.  

Lily: Oh my gosh, you guys, I love it!  

Megs:  Happy Birthday, Lily!  We’re all sooooo glad that you’re here.  Blow out your candles, beautiful!

Lily: Takes a deep breath and blows out the candles in one puff. 

The audience cheers!

Megs:  It’s cake for everyone!  

Those on stages start cutting and plating the cake.  Others start handing a slice to everyone in the audience. 

Megs:  And that’s today’s show everyone!  Thanks for coming!  Join me next time when @hopelessromantic1532 will be the guest star.  Have a GREAT week and please, join me in wishing @lilyofchoices a wonderful birthday! 

~~~~~

I’m guessing @lilyofchoices will get this when she wakes up - but it should be officially her birthday right now!

And now for the tags.  If you want to be added to the tag list for these or removed, please let me know!

@hopefulmoonobject @queen-among-writers, @hopelessromantic1352, @lilyofchoices, @msjpuddleduck, @theroyalweisme, @lady-kato

[sambart93]

2019.01.14 GARO Stage Vol 3: Kami no Kiba - JINGA - Reincarnation [Review]

Official Website here Official Twitter here Press Coverage 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 Videos 1

CAST and CHARACTERS

Inoue Masahiro as Jinga Yamamoto Ikkei as Sasha Inami Anju* and Oda Erina as Tomoha Masaki Kaoru as Ruka Matsunoi Miyabi as Amelie Fukuen Misato* and Nazuka Kaori as Shera Shimizu Saki as Ontake and Yuzuki Miyagi Koudai as Ushio Sengoku Minami and Isohara Kyouka* as Saeka Yumoto Misaki as Kerusu doNcHY as Tomino Sato Daisuke as Ramedo and Pakutora Sato Kazuma as Kaise Namiki Shusuke as Ikari Noda Hiroshi as Kido Iwata Arihiro as Lumido and Midouji Nakamura Seijiro as Fugi Horrors: Ega, Ryo, Hiro-C, Taka-ki, Kraus, Shimoo Hiroaki, Kudo Shoma, Katakabe Hiromasa, Sakai Hayato, Noda Ryunosuke, Yoshiba Yuki, Tezuka Sae, Ito Reina, Taguchi Fumiya

*There were some double casts so the * signifies the ones I saw.

NON-SPOILER REVIEW Overall: This was very good. This was a solid stage. I thoroughly enjoyed the action, I enjoyed so many of the new actors, seeing the horrors IN PERSON and so up close was amazing! The use of the projection mappings and how they used the front screen for the effects was really cool! The combination of heavy rock and action scenes was a perfect combination and I absolutely adored the two - three big action scenes that used heavy rock music to their advantage to intensify the action. One of the fighting scenes actually really impressed me with HOW they did it! Also the fact that we had a LIVE band performing is awesome! The adlibbing was gold. I can see a lot of potential in some of the characters and their future storylines. I hope we get more development and more appearances from certain characters in the future! I thoroughly enjoyed myself at this stage, even with the earthquake about 30 minutes into it which FREAKED me off. However, I had a few technical issues. This play could’ve been amazing with about 2 - 3 more days rehearsing. Let me clarify; the actors are not the issue at all! But, the sound staff and the scene transitions were very questionable at times. Sometimes the sound effects for punches and such were either played too early or too late, and it was glaringly, obviously off beat. There were a lot of moments where the orchestra would go from one song to the next as a scene ended and started, but there’d be like 10 seconds during that transition where none of the actors could more or say their lines, and it felt very unnatural and roboticly timed. If they had had just a few more days of rehearsals I really think they could’ve fixed and perfected the sound and music timing. The other issue I had was the story. The main story and the main points of the story were absolutely fine, but I felt like one character and their story line (which is attached to the main plot) was totally unnecessary. At first I thought maybe only I have these issues, but upon talking to other friends, our negatives about the play matched completely. They also had problems with the timeline in the story too, they said it was confusing to figure out when all these events are supposed to take place. But luckily, I was able to understand the timeline without any problems. But besides me, my friends found that a problem. Rating: 6/10 - I enjoyed myself, but with a few more days of rehearsing and script revising, this stage could have been amazing.

*

SPOILER REVIEW

PreShow

I was very confused when I got to the cinema and got in line for the goods. My goodness Goods was confusing!! You had to pick up your goods from the tables first THEN line up to pay?! No wonder the line was going so fast!! XD It took me a minute or two to figure out what the hell was going on. I kind of wish all shows did this. Would be so much faster in the goods line!! Rather than waiting for Miss-Take-A-Lot who is always in front of me buying about 40 sets of different bromides when all I want is a pamphlet but I have to stand behind her for 10 fucking minutes, also because the effing staff are taking their god damn time too trying to get everything and counting everything out for then about three times. <<< A common occurrence I experience unfortunately.

But anyway....

Then I got into the theatre and right away the very front screen is down and the projection mapping for the Garo opening sequence/advertisement on the screen looks so damn cool! And the GARO music to go along with it!! It was very Messiah-esque in that it had random patterns and shapes floating about but you knew they signified something or someone. Just like in Messiah’s movie openings. It was so cool to watching while counting down to show time.

I was to the right of the stage fourth row, but just not far enough to have any of the stage cut off - PHEW!!

Finally, about 20 minutes in, I ‪FINALLY experienced an earthquake during a show! It was bound to happen soon xD‬ although it went on for much longer than I was comfortable with so I momentarily didn’t focus on the play, so I have no idea what happened during those few minutes.

The Story

I want to talk about the story first:

So the story actually jumps around; it occurs before, during and after the Jinga tv show. Some people (as mentioned above) found it really difficult to figure out when it was set but I took little hints to figure out when it was. The first 40 minutes or so are set before Jinga is reborn as a human; he’s still hanging around Amelie and the Horror are bowing down before him. Then the middle section is set during the Jinga tv show; we see where he went those few episodes where he came back bloody or he doesn’t remember what happened. And the final part is setting during after the events of Jinga when he gets his Horror posse to turn and such.

The main running thread throughout all this is a girl called Tomoha. Tomoha is a Makai Priest in training, and she has a group who she trains with, she has a sister, and has some normal friends. One of her normal friends unfortunately succumbs and becomes a horror, but Jinga gets involved and reverts her back to a human being. Tomoha learns that the person who saved her friend is called Jinga and that he can turn horrors back to humans. After this she decides to find him, but when she does Jinga doesn’t recognise nor remember her. She realises there are two Jingas. Later she wants to introduce him to her training clan but while there Jinga’s Horror henchmen, and a group wanting to destroy Jinga turn up and the entire clan is doomed.

That the basicness of the entire story. Now to get into details.

The Show

Maybe I’ll just get the negatives out first and then I can flail to the end.

☆ As mentioned above I had some technical issues with the play. First was the timing between action/movements and the sound effects. The timing of some action hits were either too fast or too slow. And the off beat of the sounds were glaringly obvious unfortunately. Also, the transitions between songs, the actors would stay frozen until the right note in the music and then the scene or line would start, which made it look and feel very robotic.

☆ I really do think just a little more (a few days of) rehearsing would’ve really perfected this stage! There were technically things like timing that could’ve been spot on if they had had just a little more time. I heard from a friend that:  they didn’t have a GenePro for the press because it wasn't good enough yet, and that they kept pushing things back until eventually just cancelled the GenePro and only gave interviews instead. So clearly, I’m right in thinking (even at Senshuuraku) that they needed a few more days. During the curtain call, Masahiro even commented that he only had one day to rehearse. But I’m not even calling out on the acting! I thought everyone did well. I only had issue with technically stuff.

☆ Call me bias but the first 30 mins or so were so unnecessary and were pretty boring. They use Tomoha as the central character for the plot but in all honesty, Tomoha’s entire storyline and participation was unneeded and unnecessary.  I liked the main storyline for Jinga, and the storyline of Jinga being tracked down by the Ikkei crew, but Tomoha was completely pointless. We didn’t need her in order to know about a training group of priests and knights, we didn’t need to know she had a sister, we didn’t need one of her friends to turn horror, we didn’t need her begging for Jinga to save her. This all could’ve been just a random human or a random training crew and nothing in the main storyline would have changed. Jinga could’ve just found and gotten to that training crew on his own, Jinga could’ve ‘saved’ this human-turn-horror without introduction. We didn’t need to know about her or her sister or any one specifically at all. You could’ve switched ANYONE in where she was and it wouldn’t have made any difference to the story at all. Having her as the ‘main character’ just made the first half full of unnecessary introductions, absolutely pointless, and SO BORING.

☆ And because the story was somewhat lacking, they really missed a great opportunity to have Jinga get really evil. We have Tomoha who has clearly fallen for Jinga and completely trusts him, and you’re telling me Jinga didn’t even TRY to manipulate and use her?! I really wanted Jinga to USE her! Manipulate her! USE HER!!! That’s what the real Jinga would do! He’d be like ‘oh this idiot LIKES me. Well I’ll trick her into falling in love with me and then she’ll do anything for me mwahaha’ but nooooooooooo the story makes a romantic bullshit subplot out of it where it’s hinted that Jinga also likes her. Oh FUCK OFF! The real Jinga would have used and abused her, and he would have laughed in her face the moment her world came crashing down! That’s the Jinga we know! But alas the story did not go there. Seriously, a few more days of script writing and rehearsing would’ve made this amazing!! 

☆ Another thing I wish that changed in the script was during a few battle scenes, the entire cast are dancing to the battle music rather than actually fighting... wtf?Again, another missed opportunity! Even as the music and the dancing started, I immediately thought: TARANTINO!  I really wish they had done a Tarantino-style thing: Jinga orchestrating and dancing to music while everyone else is actually fighting and screaming. That would’ve been much better. I was completely fine with Jinga being all orchestry and dancing but I think going Tarantino style would’ve been better: only he can hear the music and is dancing, while everyone else is actually screaming and fighting. Instead of this bullshit of everyone, including Horrors, dancing to the entire song.

☆ Lastly, I didn’t have a problem, but a lot of people were confused as what the the timeline of this story was. I’ve already explained above, but I can see how others might been confused. It wasn’t exactly stated so you just had to pick up on what people were saying and who was where in order to understand what point in the timeline we were in.

Now to the fangirling!!

☆  Sticking to the fighting and music topic: The actual fighting scenes with the very heavy rock music were AMAZING! You could feel the music through the floor and the fighting was very well choreographed! It was so god damn fun!!

☆ I’m jumping ahead but the best fight scene was definitely the climax fight between Jinga and Sasha. It was absolutely amazing how they did it!!! Ikkei (Sasha) had a body double so it looked like Sasha could move super fast from one end of the stage to the other! It was so fast paced, and so well executed, that even from the 4th row, I couldn’t tell where the real Ikkei was during the fight! Also the use of the lighting during this scene, and having their weapons light up. We had some points that were in complete darkness and all you could see were Jinga’s sword and Sasha’s weapons that were lit up and fighing. It was SUCH A GOOD SCENE. It was best scene in the entire play. Absolute kudos to the choreographer and to Masahiro, Ikkei, his body double and everyone involved in that scene because holy hell it was amazing!

☆ We had a LIVE orchestra the entire time which was absolutely amazing! The music itself is just a masterpiece! It’s so good! I guess that’s why they called it Garo the ‘Live Entertainment’.

☆ There was a higawari/daily change guest every day and the show I went to had Kashiwagi Yusuke as the guest. If you don’t know, I love Kashiwagi so I was super excited for this! And he did not disappoint. He was GOLD.

Yuusuke did fucking Osomatsu!!! Everyone was DYING of laughter! Even Amelie and the other cast couldn’t keep it together! SO MANY OSOMATSU JOKES!! So his story is that Amelie and co. can’t eat him because he already made a promise with Jinga that Jinga would devour him. So he explains that he wanted to save his brothers (and that there are six of them), but they accidentally got mixed up in his scheme of trying to rob a bank, and they all ended up getting shot at. In exchange for stopping those bullets from hitting his brother, he agrees to make a deal with Jinga. During his storytelling four of the ensemble came on stage in the other Oso-coloured jumpsuits and Yusuke’s like ‘WHERE’S PURPLE?!?! You couldn’t even get me five people?!’ He was absolutely amazing! So many round of applauses during his higawari. And he did some backflips too. At the Amilie ran after him with her knife like ‘KKAAARRAAAMMAATTSUU!!!’.

During the curtain call, he said he wants to come back as a Horror if they ever let him come back. He also apologised to the vast colour difference between everyone’s outfit and his; he was ain a bright blue jumpsuit with a kimono styles scarf over his shoulders xD Absolutely GOLD.

☆ I absolutely loved being able to see Jinga’s costume so up close! I absolutely adore his grey coat from the TV show and being able to see the detail of that coat so close in person was amazing!

☆ Also the full body Horror and Makai Knight suits that we got to see on stage were phenomenal! They looked AMAZING! They were pretty terrifying as they went past me in the theatre! xD And huge kudos to the people wearing those suits. They must be absolutely dying in sweat in those suits!!

☆ There is a scene where we get to see the switch between Human Jinga and Horror Jinga. Seeing that transition right in front of my eyes was amazing! I love how different his body language and posture is between the two Jingas. I also adore how different his fighting style is too between the two versions of him.

☆ Ikkei/Sasha was so good too! I absolutely adored his look. I love how he always called himself ‘Sasha’ and referred to himself in the third person, and I love how over the top he can be. And I already said but that final fighting scene with him was phenomenal!

☆ Nakamura/Fugi’s fighting style and weapon is so cool! I really loved how much control he had with his weapon. He had some moves where the weapon could’ve easily fallen out of his hand and gone flying but he had such control and so flawlessly used it. I was so impressed.

☆ Koudai as Ushio was GREAT! He was playing a young, cheerful, sorted stupid Knight in training and he just lit up the stage with his happiness and silly moments xD I wanted so much for him to survive and get all revenge-y on Jinga’s ass! I was so sad when he died. I wanted so much more from him!

☆ A quick note on the Sasha/Fugi/Ruka/Ontake group: They are neither Makai nor Horror. From what I understood, they’re from their own world and Ontake is actually like....a god? or at least an overseeyer of the human world. Because she has a forest of candles, and the candles are everyone’s life/souls. Some candles have black flames which shows who’s become a horror, and the rest are normal flames. So essentially they’re from another... dimension/world? And they hear about Jinga’s plan to steal their goddess/spirit called Tomino so they want to kill him before he can get to Tomino.

☆ There is a twist at the end where Tomoha is possessed by Tomino (we assume she’s a goddess/spirit from the world that Ikkei is from) which means ‘Tomoha’ might have a bigger role in the future.

☆ A comment from curtain called that I enjoyed: Nakamura mentioned that he’d like a spin off dorama just about his character Fugi, and then Ruka’s actor was like “I hope Ruka gets a spin off dorama too!”. Inoue immediately after said ‘not like Sasha’s gonna get one cos he’s dead’ and Ikkei was absolutely distraught looking, it was hilarious. He was like ‘hey!!!!!!!!! I can come back! I can just pop out of nowhere!’

☆ After the show: Miyabi/Amilie was at the dvd corner and Inoue/Jinga was at the buppan corner!

*

And that’s all! I hope you enjoyed this short review!

[carolightpenvenys]

DEADLY NIGHTSHADE- CHAPTER 3

A/N: just to let y’all know i flew my own wig writing this one, please let me know what u think!!!

Chapter 3: damn, i wish i was your lover

T/W: References to dead body/body parts, references to sex (not in the same bit tho!)

“I just need to speak to Mr Carne on the phone,” Caroline was rolling her eyes and scribbling furiously on her legal pad. “And by that I mean Drake, not you.”

Dwight smiled as he stood in the doorway of her office- she hadn’t noticed he was there yet.

“So you’ll bring him in in an hour? Because he can’t drive right.” Caroline furiously scribbled actual man child on her pad, but obviously Dwight couldn’t see this. “Right, see you at 10am.” And with that she slammed the phone down.

“So I assume you had Drake Carne on the phone?” Dwight came and sat in the chair by Caroline’s desk.

“Oh,” Caroline raised her eyebrows. “I fucking wish.” Her hair was out of her Amy Santiago like bun today and instead piled on her head with about three pens slotted in. She hadn’t bothered with makeup as it was clear she had been up all night trying to crack the case. “It was his brother Sam Carne and apparently his fucking carer. I think we have reached a dead end- this man can hardly tie a shoelace.”

“So Sam wouldn’t let you speak to Drake?”

“No he hasn’t seen him in days, apparently he’s moved in with his sister Demelza and her husband Ross to grieve. But he promises to have him here by 10am.”

“Ah.” Dwight sighed. “I guess this is Ross Poldark’s involvement in it all.”

“Oh so he’s,” Caroline grabbed another pen and drew on her existing spider diagram, “This Ross? Oh man if Drake goes down he may never work again- you’ll be stuck with me forever,” she let out a tired laugh but when she met Dwight’s eye he was just smiling directly at her.

“I can think of worse things.”

POLICE INTERVIEW WITH SUSPECT:

MR DRAKE CARNE (LOVER OF THE DECEASED, POSSIBLE WITNESS): DC

DET. CAROLINE PENVENEN: CP

DR DWIGHT ENYS (M.E): DE

( THE WITNESS IS INCREDIBLY EMOTIONAL)

CP: Mr Carne, to clear up, what was your relationship with the deceased?

DC: You couldn’t understand

CP: I’m going to damn well try.

DE: Explain as best you can, Drake.

DC: I swear nothing happened whilst she was married, I would never!

CP: Let the record state the witness is inconsolable.

DE: Drake, I need you to answer my questions but I’m on your side. Do the words Atropa Belladonna mean anything to you?

CP: Or deadly nightshade?

DC: Is that some kind of code because I’d rather know the truth.

DE: No, we believe it may be the murder weapon.

CP: Drake, do you think there stands any reason that Morwenna would attempt to take her own life? Let the record show the witness probably needs a break before answering this question.

DC: No. She would never.

DE: Any reason you hold this opinion?

DC: It sounds stupid. But we always said we’d wait for each other through everything- she never wanted that marriage, you need to understand that-

CP: Are you suggesting her marriage was forced or arranged?

DC: Arranged definitely. We were in love.

DE: Who arranged this marriage?

DC: George Warleggan.  (Note: GW from previous interview).

CP: Finally, where were you between the late afternoon and midnight on the night in question? It’s a large window I know but due to the poisoning, it could have taken her hours to die- we need any information we can get from anyone who might have seen her.

DC: You’re lucky- Sunday is a Poldark family day. I’m sure if you speak to my sister, Ross or Sam they can confirm I was awake and with them until way past midnight. Possibly until about 2am.

END OF INTERVIEW

“I bought lunch!” Dwight strolled into Caroline’s office to find added to her dishevelled appearance, a rather cute pair of glasses as she drew lines between suspects.

“Fuck, we are going to definitely bring George Warleggan back in and he’s going to definitely have a lawyer. Oh, thank you for the Pad Thai.” She smiled warmly at his efforts. “Any more information about the body?”

“Ok so the time of death is confirmed midnight, she ingested the poison, probably via a drink as her stomach was empty. An interesting concept considering part of her husband’s story concerned a Sunday lunch earlier in the day.”

“Ooh Doctor Enys, you’re really digging up the bodies today, if you’ll pardon the pun. So between these three here,” she pointed to George, Osborne and Elizabeth, “there’s some kind of lie going on.”

“I would say at least one of them knows more than they let on. Maybe they saw something they didn’t want to see.” Dwight shrugged. “But your guess is honestly as good as mine- I’m not a detective after all.”

“And yet you’re here.” Caroline took her glasses off and took a moment to appreciate Dwight. A moment she soon took back, “Fuck I’m blind.”

Dwight found the whole situation rather endearing, “Yes, I’m here, and you’re here.”

“And we’re going to… solve a case?”

“Something like that.”

As Dwight passed Caroline a lab coat to allow her near to the body, she thought out loud, “I just think it’s so weird you’re vegan right- but you literally open bodies for a living.”

Dwight put down his scalpel on the tray, amused, “Even if I ate meat, which I don’t, I wouldn’t eat other humans Caroline.”

She sat on the counter where his computer was, her legs swinging back and forth. “I guess I never thought of it this way. Why did you even become a medical examiner?”

“Not for the fame.” Dwight sighed. “When I tell women I work in a morgue, it’s the world’s biggest turn off. They look at my hands and think ‘oh shit, he just touched dead bodies.’”

“No but seriously though,” Caroline enquired further. “What got you here. In the morgue.”

Dwight sighed. “Being a doctor is hard. I couldn’t cope when my patients died on me- so I thought at least with the morgue you could kind of wash your hands of that a bit. Still fucking depressing. Plus telling people I solve murders is cool, even if I actually don’t.”

There was a silence, but it was a contemplative one. “What about you, Miss Stately Home?”

“Ah, you remembered,” Caroline said, an ounce of bitterness in her voice. “Maybe I did it to avoid being Miss Stately Home.”

Dwight turned away from threading the needle to look at her. “Believe me, you’re a lot more than that. You know, catching all those smooth criminals.”

“Oh my God!” Caroline put her head in her hands. “Why do you have to say stuff like that?”

“Stuff like what?”  Dwight replied, stitching with a steady hand.

“You’re just… Such a catch. Like look at you! You remember literally everything about me, even my ringtone. You are always giving me these motivational talks, plus you’re like so cute.”

She stopped when she realised Dwight had put the needle down. “Caroline, do you really think that?”

“Ugh forgive me.” She put her hands over her eyes. “It’s way less embarrassing when I can’t look you in the eyes. I’m way too fucking blunt, I’m literally a mess I drink and swear too much and I caught myself in the mirror and I just thought wow he must really like me if he hasn’t even commented on how I look like a literal trolley lady today but now I’ve made a massive dick of myself-”

“Caroline.” This time he was so close, she could feel his presence and his hands firmly on her thighs where she was sat.

She took her hands off her eyes. “Oh my God.” She whispered. “What are we doing?” But he only got closer and closer and she shivered slightly. “You better not be leading me on here, you’ve taken your gloves off and everything… are we going to bang in a morgue?”

“What?” Dwight backed away from her slightly. “No. I’m a gentleman, I’ll at least take you back to my apartment.”

“You know,” Caroline giggled. “I’m glad we are discussing this. As two professionals, I pledge we just fuck it out of our systems, come back Monday morning and just, you know, solve the case. No one will ever know the difference.”

“I take no issue with that.” Dwight nodded seriously. “Who knows, it could be an educational experience.”

They were suddenly interrupted by the clock striking five. “Don’t you just fucking love it when everything comes together?”

Yeah. He fucking did.