#she had better have emailed people to sort it out

[goggles-mcgee]

Phantom Fudge

I love the fics of Danny settling into Gotham and having some sort of business and just absolutely confusing the Batfam with how flippant he is about the crime.

My take is, instead of a coffee shop or bookstore or occult shop, Danny opens a fudge shop!

His parents taught him, and he found he actually really loved it, and besides, his dream of being an astronaut was out of reach due to his unique medical readings. In this au, his parents learned about him being Phantom and took it well after a good period of spiraling because-Holy shit they shot their son. You may be asking, Goggles, didn't you just make a post that was all about Jack and Maddie not taking the news well? Yes. Yes, I did.

I go back and forth with wanting to salt them and not. I like both.

So anyways, Danny is the heir to the Ghost Throne, but he won't actually take up the official title until his time on Earth is naturally over. After everything got better with his parents and his regular ghost fighting buddies, he actually was able to raise his grades and graduate. Many teachers were amazed at the progress but really, Danny may not have been as smart as his parents and sister (he is an unreliable narrator and is actually very smart just not as conventional as his family) but before his accident he had done pretty good in school. The GIW was still a thing, but without the Fenton technology, they weren't doing as well as they previously did. His parents broke their contract after they rescued him from the GIW labs, it was a little after he told his parents about his halfa status and they came storming in to save him and all the other ghosts that were captured. After that, life got so much better. His parents listened to him, and he got to teach them all about his people. They started publishing more papers with actually accurate information and were doing their best to overturn the anti-ecto acts. They haven't accomplished it, but Danny was sure they would.

That's actually why he moved to Gotham. Tucker had the idea of contacting the Justice League to help with the anti-ecto laws, but their calls weren't being answered. Neither were the...strongly worded emails Sam sent in. So Danny did what he did best and jumped into something not entirely thought out but hoping for the best. He moved to Gotham so he could get close to Batman and ask for help. He got accepted into Gotham University on a scholarship. But he wanted to make some money on his own without his parents sending him some kind of allowance, and he didn't want to work at Bat Burger. He started selling fudge around winter at his school, and he got permission to do so.

From there, he got enough money to actually open a small fudge cart. Then he got enough for a small shop near his apartment which was rather close to Crim Alley so he hired some working girls to help with the shop and he employed any Alley Kids looking for some cash as delivery workers. (They only delivered in Crime Alley, though, but that was fine with Danny.) Danny loved his little fudge shop that he lovingly named Phantom Fudge, and the sign had a cute little ghost eating some fudge on it. When he was in school for classes, he left the shop in his friend Ginger's hands. She had been a working girl before, but before that, she had had experience working a small mom & pop kind of shop, so Danny felt good leaving her in charge. When Ellie visited, she helped out with the shop too.

Danny was thriving. Then he started getting customers of the ecto variety because, of course, he would. Apparently, he was something of an ecto filter for the shades and ghost of Gotham, so they would visit his shop to soak up some of the pure ectoplasm in the air. Then he experimented and made some ecto-fudge, which is what he gave to any ecto beings that entered his shop. Most couldn't pay, but they would give him a heads up if they saw anything shady happening around his shop.

Like a little heads up that some robberies were happening in the area, or some rogue was getting close. It was a nice little system they had. Though some ghosts came in just to tell him their unfinished business and like...he wasn’t King yet, but these were his people, so he tried to help them out as best they could.

One particular couple showed up a lot and would ask him to help warn their son of any danger they heard was brewing. They would ask him to leave messages for the son or any of his kids but also the butler if needed. Danby thought this guy had some great parents. They didn't cross over because they needed to make sure their son was safe and taken care of. It was most likely that they wouldn't cross until their son did by the sounds of it. He got permission to call them Grandma and Grandpa, which was weird, but he didn't question it.

Martha and Thomas were nice spirits, so he had no problem helping them out. But Danny is Danny and his well-intentioned help of course caught the eye of the whole batfam.

They had been receiving letters in the Manor that appeared mysteriously. The first one they had all thought was a prank from the many people there. It was a simple, 'Don’t go to the gala. Something bad will happen.' That started it all. They were all baffled but laughed it off, and those who went to the gala didn't know how to feel when the seeming wait staff took over the event and held the guests hostage.

A coincidence surely.

Then they got another note, 'Freeze is planning to do a B&E and snatch some equipment from a Wayne lab. Idk which one since you have so many.' And just like last time, the note was speaking the truth. It continued from there, and everyone tried to capture whoever or whatever was leaving the notes, but any cameras they had glitched out before returning to normal and showing a new note had showed uo somewhere in the Manor. Bruce was going crazy trying to figure out who or what their messenger was.

Alfred once found a note that said, 'Tim has been awake and pushing himself too far. He is going to crash.' He took it to heart though and made Tim rest and take a break. He would not let the note happen. Tim had had far too many crashes the past couple of months.

The note that broke Bruce, though, was small in words, but it made him feel crazy. It was his parent's death anniversary, and when he went to visit the exact spot, he saw a sticky note on the floor. He shakily picked it up to see all it said was, 'It's okay.'

Now he is really worked up and determined to find the note messenger.

While that's going on, Danny also gets some local vigilantes visiting his shop, and he is so excited to see them and try and be their friend so he can ask for help. Plus they seem to be fans of his fudge and that just makes him happy.

The batkids thing the Phantom Fudge shop owner is suspicious, but hot damn did he make some bomb ass fudge.

[barcaatthemoon]

down bad || lena oberdorf x reader ||

your teammates tease you about your crush on lena.

your mouth went dry as you looked at lena's post. she looked good, ridiculously good if you were being honest. it was embarrassing how attracted to lena you were at times. your teammates definitely loved taking the mick out of you because of it. however, you liked to claim that it wasn't your fault that lena was so hot.

"what are you going to do when she gets here next month?" sydney asked as she threw her arm over your shoulder. you tried to play it cool, but the thought had been weighing on you for quite some time. you had no idea how you'd function with that hot german constantly around.

"maybe if i stick with magda, we'll never have to talk to each other," you tried. obviously it wasn't a good idea as sydney started laughing so hard that she was falling over. "i'll think of something."

you tried to push the thought of lena coming to the back of your mind, and you were successful for the most part. that meant when you received the email about all of the new signings coming a bit early, you didn't have time to prepare yourself to see lena. you just walked into an off-season training session to see her in the gym with sydney, pernille, and georgia.

"(y/n), over here!" georgia called out. she knew exactly what she was doing to you. georgia was one of the worst about your crush on lena. the only one who ever seemed to come to your defense was madga, but you couldn't see her anywhere. "have you met lena?"

"not officially," lena answered for you. she covered your hand with both of hers, shaking it gently before bringing it up to kiss your knuckles. your cheeks immediately turned pink, and for a moment, your other teammates didn't exist. "it's nice to meet you. i'm lena, but you can call me obi if you'd like."

"(y/n)," you mumbled. she smiled, and you thought you were going to die for a moment.

"it's a very pretty name liebe," lena told you. you just nodded dumbly until pernille took pity on you and ushered you away. once you were away from lena, you seemingly snapped out of whatever weird little trance she had put you in.

"what the hell was that? you have got it bad for her," pernille said. you covered your face in your hands and let out a quiet little scream of frustration. "i hate saying this, but you are pathetic honey."

"yeah," you agreed sadly.

it wasn't easy, but you managed to avoid lena for the rest of the day. throughout the following weeks, you'd run into her around the training facility or the coffee shop that sydney swore by. whenever you'd see each other, you'd always smile and wave, but she rarely tried talking to you. you thought that you were done for, that lena just thought you were a little freak she was better off not associating with.

once the pre-season started, things changed a bit. you found yourself not hanging around sydney or georgia's because lena always seemed to be around. you felt bad for ditching your friends with lame excuses, but you had yet to get a handle on your feelings for lena. it didn't help that you now shared a locker room and gym space together, so you got to see quite a few of the selfies she posted being taken in real time.

"pernille is worried about you," magda said as she plopped down next to you. you glanced over at the swedish defender, who had been one of your closest friends since chelsea. she was like your big sister, only much nicer to you than your actual siblings ever had been. you were sort of on your own before magda came along and unofficially had her parents adopt you. "sydney said that you haven't been over in a month. your friends miss you, even the ones you haven't made yet."

"what the hell does that mean? why do you always say cryptic shit?" you weren't proud of it, but you were huffing and puffing. it had been a hard month, and honestly, you were done with people trying to convince you to go out after practice.

"i mean that lena wants to be your friend. she was asking about you, i think she likes you." magda nudged you with her elbow, seemingly giddy about the idea of lena having a crush on you. magda hadn't seen you date anybody other than jessie, and while that had been a good relationship for the both of you, things just hadn't worked out.

"she doesn't like me. she's way out of my league. things haven't been good for me since jessie, and i don't want to subject lena to that shit," you sighed. magda wrapped her arm around your shoulders and held you in close. "maybe i should have stayed in england."

"absolutely not. now, you look at me and listen, okay?" magda waited for you to nod before she continued, "you're amazing, kid. the first breakup sucks, but then you go out there and find someone new. you fall in love until you find the right person. it's rare to find someone who can look at you the way lena does without really knowing you. i have it on good authority that you've been talked up quite a bit. lena will be here for a while, just like you, so why not give her a chance?"

"when did you get so wise?" you asked as you wrapped your arms around the back of magda's neck. out of the corner of your eye, you could see pernille watching the two of you. "oh, that's when."

"i told you she's worried about you, and she knows that you'll listen to me. now, go out there and charm the kit off of lena," magda told you. she pushed you off of the bench, where you fell ungracefully onto the floor.

"magda!" pernille chided. she threw her arms up into the air as she approached her partner. magda let herself be dragged away as lena made her way over to help you up.

"are you okay, liebe?" lena asked as she pulled you up onto your feet. she didn't let go of your arm, holding you close as the two of you spoke.

"i'm fine," you answered. lena let out a small sigh, seemingly in relief. you felt your cheeks heat up as she smiled at you. there was a distinct lack of privacy in the locker room, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care. "i think her plan the whole time was to shove me onto the ground."

"maybe, but look at us now." lena had a point, but you knew that you had to actually tell her that you liked her now. "i'll shove her later for you."

"definitely gonna take you up on that, but right now i think i have to tell you something," you said. lena was patient with you, waiting until you were ready to speak without pushing you there. "i think that you're really attractive, lena. i keep making a fool of myself around you, so i started to avoid you, but i like you. not in the way i like sydney or georgia, but in the 'i want to kiss you and am down terribly bad' way."

"hey, i'm a catch!" sydney scoffed. lena turned and glared at sydney, who promptly pretended that she wasn't eavesdropping. "sorry, go on."

"i like you a lot too. maybe after this we can get ice cream. i heard from a very reliable source that we like the same place," lena said. you caught georgia's eye from over lena's shoulder just in time to catch her wink. you smiled as you nodded, giving lena's hand a gentle squeeze.

"i'd like that, but for now, we should get to the pitch," you told her. lena nodded and let you grab your things. she walked alongside you out to the field, both of you falling into an easy conversation with each other.

…

"come on, get in closer," lena said as she pressed her body into yours. you weren't sure how you could possibly get any closer to her for the picture, but you let lena try. it was like this every single time the two of you went out somewhere. lena loved to show you off, even more than she liked showing off her own outfits anymore.

"lena, stop! you're gonna leave a mark," you whined as she started to suck on your neck. that wasn't the only reason you wanted her to stop, but if you admitted to being turned on, lena would never let you go. the woman could go from a complete gentlewoman to a teenage boy in an instant.

"you look good in purple though." lena pouted at you, but it didn't work. you turned to give her a quick kiss, careful to not linger too long in her arms. the two of you were meeting sydney and laura for dinner. it seemed that with every game came an outing with some of lena's german national teammates, all of whom were eager to meet you.

you had never thought that lena's feelings for you could have run in the same vein as yours for her. the attraction turned crush eventually forming into a budding love story. you had never thought of her viewing your stories and liking your pictures the same way that you had done hers. in hindsight, you felt stupid, but lena had been patient in waiting for you.

"please, do you want to give syd more to tease us about?" you asked. lena didn't mind the teasing as much as you did, but it bothered her to see when it pushed you too far. lena shook her head and promised to be on her best behavior for dinner where you learned how nice it was to not be the main focus on the teasing. you didn't think that you had seen lena blush as much as she did when laura brought up her constantly viewing your instagram page on international camps.

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

yooooo!!! you’re my favorite ethan winters artist i just wanna say that first and foremost, thank you for the wholesome content of my comfort character and father figure 🥹🫶

i’m really curious bc i feel like i see a lot of people against mithan (not me personally, i’m p neutral on them!) but i’m curious to know all your thoughts on them! thoughts on their canon relationship, their fanon portrayal, the backlash against them/mia accusations, and your headcanons? i’m just really interested!!! hopefully that’s not weird :”)

have a good day!! sparkle on!!! ✨💖

i heart mithan... i think that they can be so cute...

i personally hc them t4t and i like to think that the dated in highschool before they both had fully transitioned

mia likes to bake and ethan likes to scrap book and he always likes to take pictures of mias cakes/ baked goods and has a album for them 😭

i am a multishipper so i draw a lot of ethan ships so my girl is left out sometimes and im sorry mia 😔

i actually really like their relationship, its a really complex dynamic that i like to talk about with my friends

i think the issue is that when talking about mithan or mia in general, theres just SO MUCH misinformation that its honestly a pain the butt to talk about

people still think that she was responsible for the creation of eveline, people still think that she experimented on eveline, people still use examples of her attacking ethan as if she did it on her own will instead of being mind controlled

in reality she was just someone who oversaw the transportation of evie. im not excusing her or anything because obviously she knew what she was doing, but people really try to accuse her of doing something she didnt and it bothers me alot lol

the problem with the fandom is that people either try to water her down to girlboss who did nothing wrong and fail to acknowledge the complexity/ moral grayness of her character and the other side is misogynists 😭😭😭😭

its hard to talk about her without people either going "stop trying to villainize her and make her look bad!" or people ACTUALLY villainizing her and acting like heisenberg would have treated him better 😭😭

mithan is such a sad relationship because they loved each other so much and that ended up being the reason their relationship fell apart (sort of... its not like the broke up... ethan kinda just straight up died)

i get a lot a trouble for saying this, but mia is a selfish person.

its not a bad thing! well i mean it is but it doesnt make her some evil witch who is somehow worse than the guy how made a werewolf american ninja warrior. its just a major character flaw she has! which is good! mia being a flawed person who makes mistakes and morally gray decisions make her a more interesting person!

she is selfish in the way that she wants to keep her family with her no matter the cost. even if it means lying to ethan about her job so that he wont think different of her. here is a interrogation from the re7 DLC, which is easy to miss!

she isnt necessarily trying to apologize for the things she has done, she is more of a, "u wont need to forgive me in the first place if we just forget it all and move on"

she doesn't try to redeem herself for what she has done, she tries to move on and return to the normal life that she wants so bad. which is fine! everyone copes a different way and she has to right to move on from her trauma. the problem that lies in this is that she has a shared trauma with ethan who still has no idea what went on in dulvey and still effects him till the present (he is mold! this is a important thing to know! most people would want to know if they were a walking corpse)

she played a direct part in what happened in dulvey, and im not referring to the email, she did not send that. she never wanted ethan to come in the first place. she tried her best to send a video to him, begging him to forget about her because she wanted to protect him, BUT it didnt send.

he got involved because she was involved. its honestly a series of really really unfortunate events.

THOUGH! she did know what she was getting into. im tired of seeing the narrative that mia was innocent and didnt know what was going on or was simply a bystander. she knew what she was doing, she knew eveline was a bioweapon, she knew eveline was a child. she used a MACHINE GUN! she knows how to use weapons and was obviously trained for it.

she tried her best to keep everybody out of the mess, ex: warning the bakers not to take them in, warning ethan not to find her, sacrificing herself for ethan in the later half of re7

but again, those are the consequences of HER actions

her consequences just happen to get really big and end up hitting ethan on the head like a metal sheet 😭

their relationship is really so interesting, it makes me really sad to think about sometimes 😭they both went through something that nobody else would ever understand, in the end they really only have each other. they get moved to an entire different country and the dulvey incident gets covered up with a "gas leak"

its really tragic because their marriage definitely had some flaws and bumps. and i know im repeating myself but its because people always take this in the worst way possible but just because i say their relationship was rocky doesnt mean im saying they dont love each other!!! thats the entire basis of mias character!! saying she doesnt love ethan would destroy her entire character!

you can see in the re8 DLC how fondly ethan talks about mia! he loves her so much, though im not sure if his comments in the DLC are him narrating current (post re8) or his thoughts before everything went down and he died (pre re8)

everything mia did was because she LOVED ethan. she would never do anything to intentionally hurt him, she is not a cruel person. she hides the truth of her job from ethan pre re7 because she loves him and doesnt want her job to drive them apart. she CONTINUES to refuse to tell ethan the truth post re7 because she wants to move on a live a happy normal life with him and knows something like her being directly associated with the connections would probably cause (more) problems. she refuses to tell ethan that he is mold because again, hard to live a happy marriage with your husband after you tell him hes a bioweapon.

obviously i dont think it was right that she did this, thats what makes her selfish! she did it for herself! she did it for her family! she thought it would work out, she thought that they could move on and be happy together.

the issue is that ethan didnt want to forget. he wanted to know what happened, he wanted to know the part mia played, he wanted answers! which is reasonable! he knows to some extent that mia was partially responsible for his involvement and he was always suspcious that mia was lying to him about her job which is implied when mia says "you were right, i did lie to you"

she doesnt learn, she doesnt stop lying, her lies get bigger and worse and it sucks yeah but it makes her so interesting!!! she keeps doing stupid things under the idea that this is whats best for her and her family, that if she hides this everything will work out and it will be for the better but its not!

just because telling your husband hes dead and a bioweapon is a hard subject to bring up doesnt mean you DONT bring it up. people shouldnt use that as a reason to excuse mia 😭, its a very bad excuse and honestly highlights how horrible their communication skills were. you cant just not tell your husband that he is actually infected with the mold and not tell him for the tree years between post re7 and pre re8.

im not saying these things to put mia down, or try and villanize her. these are all just actual things her character does! she isnt evil, but she isnt a knight in shining armor either. we need to be able to have talks about complex characters without crying everytime someone points out a flaw. characters have flaws! and mia just happens to have a lot of them!

im not mad at her, i dont dislike her because i think this way of her. shes a fictional character! you can like characters that are morally gray, or villains that drink blood and make corpse soldiers. they are fictional! pointing out the flaws of a character does not mean i dont like them.

i wouldnt call her "the real villain of re8" but i wouldnt treat her like a damsel in distress either. she is a competent person, she knows what shes doing, she has her reasons for doing them. she made bad descions with good intentions behind them! they can coexist and we should let them!

i like mithan! its a complex relationship because they both love each other so much but hurt each other in the process

talking about them is just a pain in the butt because talking about mia is a pain in the butt lol

i really hate how she keeps getting sidelined, its super frustrating to see mia get put in a cage in every game 😭

its even more frustrating that mia straight up just disappears???? in the shadows of rose DLC... like she just stops taking care of rose and theres nothing said about it. no reason or explanation. i dont think mia would ever ditch rosemary because she didnt care about her, but we probably will never know because capcom sucks at writing and they probably forgot the mia ever even existed.

all in all, i think the fandom is really just full of misinformation which make people either think mia is some horrible evil person, or its full of people who think that saying mia messed up is the equivalent of comparing her to wesker lol.

i really love mia, shes a incredibly fun and complex character, its just hard to enjoy her sometimes with the people in the fandom haha.

also ive got no idea what u meant by "the backlash against them/mia accusations" so sorry if i didnt answer that!

thank u for the ask! sorry for the long response!

[cheriladycl01]

Could you do SMAU for Toto Wolff with wife reader where she is a huge bookworm and he always so supportive about her passion And the Internet has gone crazy about it. Thanks :))

Bookstagram - Toto Wolff x BookwormWife! Reader

Plot: Taking a look through your bookstagram and how supportive Toto Wolff is of your love for reading. Encouraging you to pursue your dream of writing.

Credit to multibabydoll for the GIF

You loved reading and books. Before you met Toto, you used to be a bookseller and then worked for a publishing house. You actually met Toto because of the influx in Motorsport Romance's that made your company send you to a race to get some ... hands on experience and you ended up having your own sort of Motorsport Romance with a Team Principle.

You ended up marrying Toto and at first it was hard, but when COVID came and you ended up working from home since then so coming to the races had been much easier.

y/user

Liked by lucyscore laurenroberts and mercedesamgf1

y/user: My reads of the month! Really loved both of these and I can’t wait for book to from Lauren!

Book 1: Things We Hide From The Light by Lucy Score

Book 2: Powerless by Lauren Roberts

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lucyscore: I’m glad you enjoyed this one!

-> y/user: it’s really good!

fan1: i love these!

toto.wolff: Is this the book you were reading on the plane?

-> y/user: Yes, the other one I read at the race track!

laurenroberts: babe! I’m glad you enjoyed! Come to a book signing and I’ll get you a proof of Powerful!

-> y/user: no stop! I’d love that!

DM’s

laurenroberts: Hey Babe, got an event on 29th November, in Florida. You want to come as my special guest?

y/n: id love that! Thank you so much for the invite! I’ll just need to talk to my husband. I’ve never travelled solo and I’m a nervous traveller!

laurenroberts: That’s fine! Just let me know as and when babe!

“Babe, can we talk for a second” you asked your husband as you walk into the kitchen where he is sat with his morning coffee.

"Yes honey what is it?" he asks looking over at you, pushing a glass of orange juice towards you.

"Well, one of the authors that I really like invited me to a book signing.."

"Oh that's amazing sweetheart. Are you going to go?" he says checking his emails not fully paying attention.

"Well, thats the thing. It's over a race weekend... and" you start but his head bolts up to interrupt you.

"You better not be asking for my permission for if you can go, you know you don't have to ask!" he says almost as though he's offended you with think that of him!

"No, no of course not. But I'm scared to go alone, you know how I am!" you explain and he nods remembering the last time you guys flew.

"Well, how about I buy you a nice first class ticket and make the experience worth it. I'll pay for a fancy hotel and a spa evening for when you land ... how does that sound" he grins pulling you into him kissing your forehead.

"You don't have to do that for me!" you exclaim feeling bad!

"Ah no honey, I do this all for you!" he smiles pulling you in for a full kiss.

y/user

Liked by stephaniegarber and ashleyposton

y/n: What do you guys prefer, Romance or Fantasy. I love finding quiet corners at the race track!

Tagged 8 People

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stephaniegarber: Did you enjoy it?

-> y/user: It was so good! I moved straight onto Legend! And Toto brought me OUABH!

ashleyposton: I see those outlines! Thank you for your review on goodreads!

olivia_blake: ahhhh, i hope you enjoy it!

fan1: Y/N is definielty a motorsport romance girlie considering she literally lived one!

->fan2: i forget about this!

"Baby, you have to stop packing so many books!" Toto laughs as he gets out his card to pay the extra bagging expense where your bags had ended up being overweight.

"I'm so so sorry! I didn't realize how many I'd take back with me, American Books are so much more floppy than the ones at home... even though I prefer our covers!" she answers, going to get her card out.

"I'll pay baby don't be silly!" Toto laughs tapping his card as air port staff come over and help you guys take the bags away.

"You are my little book worm aren't you!" he grins pinching your cheeks like an older lady.

"Stop!" you say swatting his hand away.

y/user

Liked by toto.wolff and others

y/n: Toto helped me rebuild my book nook AND took me out for a book haul! It's up on my YouTube now!

Link

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sarahjmaas: looks amazing!

toto.wolff: I'm happy to help baby!

-> y/user: BEST HUSBAND.

You and Toto had spend the day putting up the swinging chair, and making the room cozy with fairy lights.

He had started to organize your shelves in colour coordination order making a rainbow. You felt so bad when your need to have them in genre and alphabetical order took over.

"Baby, as incredible as this looks, I'm never going to find any books!" you argued and he looks and pulled out Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros.

"See I found you current smutty dragon book!" he smiles handing it to you and your eyes widen at the lingo he was using.

"Have you been... watching my videos?" you ask in shock.

"Mmmm yes honey. i find them very amusing!" he admits and you just stare at him in shock.

y/user

Liked by lewishamilton and toto.wolff

y/n: He looks like this so that I can look like this …

I LOVE MY HUSBAND

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fan1: shes so unserious ... lmao

fan2: and you look fab!

You were thankful that Toto worked as hard as he did, he treated you all the time and you treated him in return.

Your husband was so supportive and was without a doubt the best thing that had ever happened to you.

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[ifancyharry]

what it is: YN is Harry’s personal assistant and she gets sick, but he’s playing Wembley

word count: 4k

The air is crisp and clean as YN steps out of her hotel into the streets of London, hurrying down the sidewalk as she scurries to the first pharmacy she can find. 

It’s 7.54 in the morning and she’s been awake for almost twenty-four hours. Not on purpose, obviously. And not on her boss’s orders either, despite having there been nights the team deemed important and she was required to pull an all nighter, but those were usually times of celebrations, either spent at an afterparty or waiting until midnight for Spotify to release the album everyone had been working hard on.

The air hurts her lungs as she stops to catch her breathing, the pounding behind her temples not dimming the slightest as she trespasses the sliding doors of the pharmacy, only intensifying with the bright artificial lights shining down on her from the ceiling.

She pulls her sunglasses out of the pocket of her sweatshirt and slides them over her eyes, relishing in the temporary relief washing over her sensitive eyes.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket and she pulls it out, grimacing at the name on the screen; it’s her boss, Harry, asking her what time she’s ready to leave for the venue. 

Once her turn comes, she quickly explains her symptoms to the pharmacist and just as quickly she pays for the medicine the pharmacist has taken out for her.

She walks out of the pharmacy and types back a short response to Harry, telling him she’s on her way to his room.

She hopes the medicine she has stuffed in her pocket will make her feel better, and she thinks as she’s making her way back to the hotel that she’ll ask Harry to stop along the way to grab a coffee, hoping it will soothe the tension behind her temples. There’s no way she can be sick when her boss is playing at Wembley for the first time.

…

Harry isn’t one to comment on other people’s appearances, his mum taught him that and it has stuck with him since he was a little kid, a sort of an unspoken rule out of kindness, and therefore he’s never asked if someone was sick because they weren’t wearing makeup or if someone had eaten a little more over the holidays.  He never considered other people’s looks something that concerned his range of business, but once he sees YN, he can’t help but wonder if she’s okay.

Her hair is tied in a messy braid, and there’s some strands falling out of it and in front of her eyes. She’s wearing a big love on tour sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants, but that isn’t particularly concerning, because he’s used to her comfy articles of clothing. 

What’s concerning is her face… and Harry already feels bad for thinking that, but she doesn’t look like herself. And Harry would know. Of course he would know, because he spends a lot of time looking at her face, especially when she’s not looking, most of the times when she’s reading a book next to him in a moment of rest or when she’s answering emails on Monday mornings. So… he knows her. He knows her skin looks paler than normal, and the circles under her eyes aren’t the same as that one time they partied all night after Harry won album of the year at the Grammys.

He wants to ask if she’s okay, because after a year of working together they have that kind of confidence, but he doesn’t want that to be the first thing he says to her, so he just smiles at her and welcomes her with a side hug and a good morning.

“Hi” she’s quick to greet back, and Harry notices even her voice sounds scruffier than usual.

“Are you ready to go?” She asks a second later.

“Yeah, yeah, the car’s down already?” He asks surprised. Sometimes it takes a while before the drivers find the hotel, and YN and Harry spend that time watching videos on youtube or talking about the day’s schedule.

YN shrugs but doesn’t say anything in response, which is weird to Harry because she’s usually really bright and energetic in the morning, and she’s really meticulous on top of everything: she never lets him wait without finding something to pass the time first.

“Let’s just stay until we don’t know for certain” he suggests.

She agrees with a nod of her head and she heads to his bed, sitting down on the end of it. It’s not uncommon for her, because she’s always in his space, and there have been times where they were forced to basically sleep in the same bed (one time YN fell asleep on his bed, and Harry was so in his song-writing-bubble he didn’t even realize until he was so tired he couldn’t keep his eyes open, so he slipped in next to her and literally passed out).

He still needs to tie his shoes, so he sits next to her and ties the laces of his ratted vans.

“How’d yeh sleep, pet?” He asks, because she’s freakishly quiet and it’s making him anxious. She’s never quiet, and with this being a stressful day already for Harry, every little thing that’s different from normal alerts him.

“Fine” she whispers, knuckling at her eyes, his question bringing back the awful memory of the night she spent tossing and turning in the scratchy hotel sheets, praying for a moment of solace every time she tried to breathe through her nose and failing.

“Me too…” he nods.

YN feels bad because she should be more engaging, but she really doesn’t have it in her to make small talk. 

Some time passes before the driver calls YN’s phone to tell her the van is here, shaking her awake. She remembers closing her eyes to rest them, and next thing she knows she’s sound asleep on her boss’s bed. She’d be a bit embarrassed if it wasn’t for how awful she feels already. 

“Crap! I fell asleep!” She exclaims once she hangs up the call. 

“Yeah” Harry says from next to her, still laying on his bed, “just fo’ like… fifteen minutes though” He’s playing on his phone, and YN pushes at his bicep, “we need to go, driver’s here”

She gets up from the bed and slips on her shoes, grabbing her work bag (it’s really a tote bag but she finds calling it work bag makes her waaaay more professional) from the floor next to the door.

“YN” she hears Harry clear his voice, and she turns around to look at him.

He’s still sitting on the bed, and he passes a hand through his hair before saying, “are yeh all right?” 

She closes her eyes in a furrow and tries not to wince when a sharp pain shoots behind her eyes with the movement, “yes, yes” she stresses, although not convinced.

“Are you sure? C’mon yeh can tell me!” 

“I’m fine, Harry” and despite her words, she sniffles, “maybe I have a cold or something…”

“You can take the day off if you need to, yeh know that” 

“No, there’s no way” she shakes her head swiftly, “no”. 

“YN…” he trails off.

“Harry, I told you I’m fine. I can work! Let’s just go, okay?” 

He sighs but does as she says, following her out of his room.

Harry isn’t a worrier. If someone from his team, or band whatsoever, says they can work, he at least presumes they’re mature enough to know the expanse of their limits. 

With YN, it’s different. He worries.

Not because he considers her immature, but she’s just… different. Ever since she started working for him as his assistant, he’s always looked out for her, despite being the one that didn’t want to hire her in the first place.

She’s young, she works a lot to prove herself to him, despite him telling her lots of times she doesn’t need to prove anything and she’s doing a great job as she is. 

She does unthinkable working hours, sometimes pulling all nighters, other times hurrying to his house in the middle of the night because he’s a little bit of a hypochondriac and she needs to check immediately what’s that new mole he has on his back (turns out it was a speck of dark chocolate that stuck onto his skin).

She’s soft and she always puts her job (him, actually) first, so he doesn’t really trust her to know her limits. If she’s sick she should rest. She should lay in bed and maybe eat a little soup and watch comfort movies tucked under the sheets, but he knows she won’t. And he knows he’s the reason behind that, because he’s playing at Wembley tonight, and she doesn’t want to cause trouble. Harry thinks she in no way could ever be described as trouble. 

And maybe, and he feels a little bit scared to admit this, he could postpone the show just by a couple hours, at least until he knows she’s resting at the hotel. but, she hurries into the van and pretends like she’s just got “a cold or something”, so Harry doesn’t question her further. 

He could just order her to take the day off, but he knows that would hurt her feelings, and he can imagine the look on her face, like a puppy being scolded, so he bites his tongue: there’s no way he could ever hurt her feelings.

…

YN has to stop a couple of times when she starts feeling dizzy on her feet. She shouldn’t run this much when she’s probably feverish, but there’s so much to do! She doesn’t trust to delegate, and not because she’s pretentious, but because she’s a control freak that needs to know how things are being handled, so she would only get much more frustrated and it would eventually just end up in her doing all the work anyway, increasing her fever undoubtedly. 

So, she chugs downs a lot of water and a lot of ibuprofen, taking deep breaths every time she starts feeling nauseous. She should probably inform Harry at least that she doesn’t feel good, so if anything were to happen he wouldn’t be too surprised, but she knows how he is; he would demand she stop immediately and go back to the hotel to rest, and she can’t allow that to happen. 

Wembley is the dream of a lifetime, and Harry sound checks every song two times before passing on to the next one. YN sits quietly in one of the seats, preparing Harry’s next instagram post on her phone. She handles all of his socials, because that’s what she was originally hired for. “A young set of eyes”, Jeff had defined her, and from then, her life had changed completely. 

Of course, she wasn’t aware she’d develop a crush on her boss at the time she was hired. She figured she’d be immune to his charm; she’s younger than him, much less experienced (in every aspect of her life), and hasn’t really seen anything yet, so she thought they’d just be too different to get along. Spending each second of the day together didn’t help, though, because it was then she got to know Harry for who he truly was, and with that, came the awareness of how many things he’d lived through and how many things he could teach her. How soft he was with her, how he would always drape a blanket over her when she accidentally fell asleep on his bed, and how he would tell her she looked pretty even after pulling an all nighter and probably looking like a raccoon. That’s just how he was.

And that’s why she values his dreams more than her health. She would never do anything that could harm him, so she shrugs off the dreadful feeling off her back and keeps working. 

…

“Hey” Harry plops down on the couch next to her, draping his arm on the backrest of the couch. If he’d stretched his fingers he could touch her shoulder, but he doesn’t just yet. He knows she still doesn’t feel good, he can see it in the way she’s hugging herself in the Love on tour hoodie she has on (probably one of his because their laundry always gets mixed up).

“Hi” she says softly, her voice much lower than it’d been the last time he saw her.

It’s closer to show time now, but he’s still not in his outfit. YN wonders if that’s the reason why he came in the dressing room in the first place.

“What are yeh doin’ hidin’ in here all alone?” 

“‘m not hiding!” She pouts, “jus’… resting” 

“Mh, yeah?” He hums, turning his head to look at her, “restin’ your ears? Are you tired of my music yet?” He jokes.

“Never!” She beams, swatting at his chest playfully.

He lets his arm fall down on her shoulder, and he tugs at her, squeezing her against his chest.

She breaths him in, and despite her stuffy nose, she can smell the faint scent of his fabric softener. Musk and lavender. It’s the same as hers.

 “I’m sorry I’ve been a bit of a pain lately…” he trails off, his mouth buried in her hair, “nothing to do with you… was jus’ nervous is all”

She squeezes his hoodie between her fingers to tug him closer, “I’m really proud of you. You’ll do great.”

“Thanks, pet” he grins, breaking away from the hug.

She sniffles and he looks between her eyes warily, “’s there anything you want to tell me before I go on stage?”

“Jus’ to kick ass” she giggles, aware that wasn’t what he was alluding at.

“Mmmh” he muses, getting up from the couch. He knew she’d be stubborn about this so he doesn’t pressure her.

“Hav’to start gettin’ ready” he clears his throat, heading towards the portable hanger YN set up in his dressing room.

He then proceeds to take off his hoodie and his tank top, leaving him shirtless before her.

She’s seen him in his underwear many times, but maybe it’s the fever, maybe it’s the crush on him that’s growing stronger everyday, but she feels her insides get warm at the sight. 

He tugs his sweats down his legs too, kicking them off his feet, and YN pretends to pick up her phone to respond to a message that definitely could have waited. 

He picks up the heart printed overalls he’d be wearing and tugs them over his legs, jumping a little in his place so they could fit over his bum.

Once he’s fully dressed, he looks over at YN and finds her looking at him already, her eyes a little droopy. He feels his heart tug in his chest at the sight. He wishes she’d let him help her. If he could he’d send her back to the hotel straight away, but he has to admit he’s selfishly relishing in the idea of having her here, looking at him perform. It makes him want to do even better than he always does. 

“All ready then” he smiles, dimples denting both his cheeks.

“Mmhh” she hums, getting up on her feet. She walks towards him and adjusts the neck of his shirt, petting it down.

“Good luck Harry” she smiles. He has to refrain himself from lowering his head down to kiss her, and he’s aware these thoughts are way too unprofessional of him, but he can’t help himself. Not when she’s looking at him like that.

“See ya after the show, pet”

…

“Harry!” Jeff pats down on his shoulders as soon as Harry runs backstage, “you just smashed it! Fuckin’ smashed it mate!”

Harry laughs with him out of politeness, but his mind is really on something else.

“Fuckin’ Wembley, Harry! Wembley’s Harry’s house!” Someone else shouts, and he thinks it’s Lloyd but he doesn’t really pay much attention to him. There’s someone missing from the crowd. YN. She’s nowhere to be found, and he’d really like to celebrate with her. She’s the one that should join in on the fun and get a little bit of praise too, because without her, harry doesn’t think he could’ve played Wembley.

Everything was going fine, and he saw her next to his mother standing in the private part of the pit, but then, when he came back after chatting with a couple of fans, she was gone. He wonders if she’s okay.

“Hey, Jeff” he clears his throat, hoping to be discreet with his tone of voice, “where’s YN?” 

“Oh…” he nods, “she wasn’t feeling proper good, so I sent her to your dressing room. I told her to get back to the hotel, but she refused to leave”

Harry nods and after a ‘thanks’ he hurries towards his dressing room, hoping to find her there.

Once he opens the door, the sight of YN sleeping on the couch crouched on herself makes his heart somersault in his chest.

“Hey, pet” he coos softly once he crouches down next to her.

He repeats the endearing greeting, and this time she stirs awake. YN brings one hand to knuckle at her eyes tiredly, and Harry frowns at the sight of her bloodshot eyes. He brings one hand to caress her cheek, but when he realizes how warm she is, he brings it up to her forehead. She’s burning hot. 

He immediately feels guilty. He should’ve sent her back to the hotel as soon as he realized she was sick, hell, he shouldn’t have let her leave his room that morning!

“Harry?” She asks timidly, her voice coming out scruffy. She gulps but flinches as the hurt in her throat doesn’t subside. 

“Yeah, ’s me” he whispers, moving the hair away from her face, “let’s go back to the hotel, okay?” 

“No Harry! The show! You can’t leave… the show! It’s wembley” she stresses, gripping his bicep tightly to refrain him from leaving her.

“Shh, shh” he shushes her, “calm down. ’s okay. The show was great. Everything was great” he coos, pressing his lips down her forehead and flinching from how hot it feels, “you did so great”.

She sniffles and: “great?” 

“Yeah” he nods, reassuring her, “let’s go now, okay?”

He helps her get up on her feet, and she stumbles a bit in her place. She grips the fabric of his overalls tightly between her fingers, and he lets her, hoping to be at least a little bit of comfort.

…

“How are you feelin’? What hurts?” He asks her once they reach his hotel room (he wanted to go back to hers, but couldn’t find her key and didn’t want to startle her too much).

“Everything” she pouts.

“I’m so sorry, darling” he sighs, ushering her inside his room.

She’s stable on her feet now, the little nap at the venue kind of helped a bit in soothing her, but still, everything hurts, and the thought of being in a hotel room and not at her own house bothers her.

She also doesn’t want Harry to look at her like this, all sweaty and red in the cheeks. She must look so embarrassing! 

“I’ll draw you a bath, how about that?” He proposes, not waiting for her response and heading directly towards the bathroom.

Now that he thinks about it, harry’s glad she’s in his room, because (being the Harry Styles) his room has a bathtub, whereas hers doesn’t. He also has lots of salt baths and bubbles to add to the water, courtesy of the hotel, and he adds everything he can to soothe her stuffed nose and make the bath as pleasing as possible.

She knocks on the door delicately, and he turns his head to look at her.

“Bath’s ready” he smiles gently, and he dips his index finger to test the temperature of the water, careful not to make it too hot to not aggravate her fever any more. 

Harry excuses himself from the bathroom, and tells her to give him a shout if she needs anything.

It’s a couple of minutes later when he hears her calling for him, her voice still lower than normal.

He knocks on the door and after he gets her consent he opens it, peeking his head inside. She’s laying in the bathtub, the water submerging her almost to her neck, and he’s aware she’s naked under, but the bubbles cover her body entirely.

“Are yeh all right?” He asks worriedly.

“Mhmh,” she hums, “jus… keep me company?” 

He’s happy she’s more responsive now, and he happily sits at her side, plopping down on the toilet seat next to the tub.

They sit in silence for a while, Harry’s aware he’s still in his fancy (and uncomfortable) show clothes, but he doesn’t care. He’s just happy to dote on her now as she’s been doing with him since she’s been hired.

“I can’t believe you played at wembley and I missed half of it” she says after a while, the water sloshing around her as she turns to look at him.

“There’s always next time” he grins at her playfully.

She throws a smile at him, “bet”.

His mouth opens in a sideway smile, his dimple indenting only one of his cheeks, and more seriously than he did before, he says “I wish you’d told me you weren’t feelin’ good”

“Didn’t want to spoil your day” she shrugs.

He wants to tell her she wouldn’t have spoiled it, that if she’d asked he would’ve postponed his show and crawled in bed with her, cuddling her until she felt better, even with the risk of getting himself sick too, he didn’t care. He would have done anything to make her feel good; but how can he tell her? How can he be honest about something like that without revealing another part of himself to her? He’s her boss. He’s older than her. And he doesn’t know if she feels the same way.

So, instead of making a complete fool out of himself, he ushers her out of the tub, passing her a towel without looking at her. He engulfs her in the bathrobe and ties it tight on her stomach, careful to have her bits covered completely by the fabric of the towel.

When he reaches his room, he takes out a t-shirt and a pair of boxers for her to sleep in, and he leave her to change in the bathroom.

While he waits for her to come out, he texts his mum if she could make that delicious soup she always prepared when he was sick, promising he wasn’t sick himself and that he’d explain in the morning. His mum answers a couple of minutes later with a thumbs up and a kissy face. 

He locks his phone and plugs it in the charger next to the bed, leaving it on the bedside table.

When YN comes out of the bathroom, she looks better already. Her cheeks aren’t as red and her eyes appear to be more rested, but, she still looks tired, and he smiles at her as he tugs the comforter down for her to slip in.

She curls up under the covers and waits for Harry to tuck her in, “comfortable?” He asks.

She nods with her cheek against the pillow, “just wish I was home” she whispers and the affirmation pains him.

“I’ve been overworking yah, haven’t I?” He sighs deeply, feeling extremely guilty. 

She’s quick to shake her head no, flinching when a sting of pain hits her temples with the movement. 

“Yes I have… you’ve been s’good” he smiles down at her.

“You’re a Wembley player now” she whispers, her eyes closing on her as she speaks, and Harry chuckles endeared at her. 

“Get some rest” he coos, but she’s already fallen in a deep sleep that will probably be tainted with a curly headed guy with green eyes and a pretty smile.

He fishes from inside her bag a tab of ibuprofen and, with a glass of water, he places them on the bedside table closer to her side, so, if she’d ever were to wake up in pain, she could take the medicine immediately. 

He takes the shortest shower he’s ever taken, quickly putting on his pajamas and brushing his teeth. Once he’s ready for bed, he slips in next to her, leaning down to press his lips on her forehead to check her temperature. She’s still warm, but the bath seemed to be of help, and probably the much needed sleep, too.

He thinks he’ll give her the rest of the month off. He owes it to her, so she can get back up on her feet and spend some time at home if she’d like. He takes a minute to wonder why hasn’t he ever given her more than a day of rest, and he doesn’t have to wonder too much, because he knows the answer already, one that is overbearing and too deep to even analyze after the day he’s had: he doesn’t want to be away from her that much time. It’s as simple as that. He’s fucked.

Read part 1 to their story here

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[beerok23]

D: And then he came to offer you the part in Good Omens? M: Yeah, well, we became friends and we would, you know, whenever he was in town, we would meet up. And then eventually he started. He said, you know, I'm working on an adaptation of Good Omens. I remember at one point Terry Gilliam was going to maybe make a film of it. And I remember being there with Neil and Terry when they were talking about it. D: Were you involved at that point? M: No, I wasn't involved. I just happened to have met up with Neil that day. D: Right.

M: And then Terry Gilliam came along and that was the day they were talking about that or whatever. And then eventually he sent me one of the scripts for an early draft of, like, the first episode of Good Omens. And he said, we started talking about me being involved in doing it. He said, 'Would you be interested?' I was like, 'Yeah, of course I would. Oh, my God.' And he said, 'Well, I'll send you the scripts when they come.' And I would read them and we talk about them a little bit. So I sort of was involved. But it was always at that point with the idea, because he'd always said about playing Crowley in it. And as time went on, as I was reading the scripts, I was thinking, I don't think I can play Crowley. I don't think I'm going to be able to do. And I started to get a bit nervous because I thought, 'I don't want to tell Neil that I don't think I can do this'. But I just felt like, I don't think I can play Crowley. D: Of course you could play Crowley. M: Well, just on a sort of - on a gut level, you know, sometimes you have on a gut level, you go - D: Sure, sure. M: I can do this. D: Yeah. M: Or I can't do this. M: And I just thought, you know what? This is not the part for me. The other part is better for me. I think. I think I can do that. I don't think I could do that. But I was scared to tell Neil because I thought, well, he wants me to play Crowley. And then it turned out he had been feeling the same way as well, and he hadn't wanted to mention it to me. But he was like, 'I think Michael should really play Aziraphale'. And neither of us would bring it up. And then eventually we did. And it was one of those things where you go, 'Oh, thank God you said that. Oh, I feel exactly the same way'. D: Yeah. M: And then I think within a fairly short space of time, he said, 'I think we've got David Tennant for Crowley.' D: *Chuckles* M: And we both got very excited about that. And then all these extraordinary people started to joining up. And then off we went. D: The other thing about Neil, he collects people, doesn't he? So he'll just go, oh, yeah, I phoned up Francis McDormand. She's up for it. Yeah. And you're 'What-Wait-What?' M: I emailed John Hamm. D: Yeah. M: And you realize how beloved he is and how beloved his work is. And I think we would both recognize that Good Omens is one of the most beloved of all of Neil's stuff. D: Yes. M: And had never been turned into anything. D: Yeah. M: And so the kind of responsibility of that, I mean, for me, for someone who has been a fan of him and a fan of the book for so long, I can empathize with all the fans out there who are like, oh, they better not fuck this up and this better be good. And I have that part of me, but then, of course, the other part of me is like, but I'm the one who might be fucking it up. So I feel that responsibility as well.

D: But we have Neil on site. M: Yes. Well, Neil being the showrunner - D: Yeah. M: I think it takes a massive difference. You feel like you're in safe hands. D: Well, we think. Not that the world has seen it yet. M: No, I know. D: But it's been a joy to work with you on it. M: Oh, my goodness. D: I can't wait for the world to see it. M: Well, I mean, I've done a few things where there are two people. It's a bit of a double act, like Frost-Nixon some more, and The Queen, I suppose in some ways, and I've done - Amadeus or whatever. This is the only thing I've done where I really don't think of it as my character or my performance as that character. I think of it totally as us, the two of us. D: Yes! M: What I do is defined by what you do. That was such a joy to have that experience. And it made it so much easier in a way as well, I found, because you don't feel like you're on your own in it. Like it's totally us together doing this. And the two characters totally complement each other. And the experience of doing it was just a real joy. D: Well, I hope the world is as excited to see it as we are to talk about it, frankly.

M: You know. Having talked about T. S. Elliott earlier, there's another bit from The Waste Land where there's a line which goes, "These fragments I have shored against my ruin". And this is how I think about life now. There is so much in life, no matter what your circumstances, no matter where you've got, what you've done, how much money you got, all that. Life's hard. It can take you down at any point. You have to find this stuff. You have to find things that will. These fragments that you hold yourself, they become like a life raft. And especially as time goes on. I think as I've got older, I've realized it is a thin line between being surviving this life and going under and the things that keep you afloat are these fragments, these things that are meaningful to you. And what's meaningful to you will be not meaningful to someone else. But whatever it is that matters to you, it doesn't matter what it was you were into when you were a teenager, a kid. Doesn't matter what it is. Go and find them and find some way to hold them close to you. Make it go and get it. Because those are the things that keep you afloat. They really are, like doing that with him or whatever it is. These are the fragments that have shored against my ruin. Absolutely. D: That's lovely. Michael, thank you so much. M: Thank you. D: For talking today and for being here. M: It's a pleasure. D: Thank you.

This podcast is so underrated. I heard it tonight for the first time, and it blew my mind. The episode was published back in April 2019 (recorded after a photoshoot for Good Omens season 1). Listen to these babies, starting to knowing and respecting each other *_* Of course, Michael Sheen was probably the greatest fan of Neil and Good Omens out there, but the joy and the excitement was already there to feel, from both of them!

And Michael saying "The Two of Us" 4 years before July 2023... My heart - just - can't.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

My chronic pain disabilities (hip fuckery; migraines) do not stop me from working. It doesn't mean I should treat my disabilities with less respect than disabilities that DO make it impossible to work.

When my endo pain was at its worse, I did all the things I was supposed to do--according to HR--to protect my job. I filed ADA paperwork. I communicated when I used it. I had the doctor's note. Etc.

Two days before my hysterectomy, I got a call from HR. "Oh, we're not sure we'll have work for you after you recover."

Which, first of all, is fucking illegal to say to someone who has ADA paperwork in place with you.

And, second of all, you're a fucking liar. I was the ONLY tech writer in a company of 500 people. Don't bullshit me.

I should have filed a complaint and sued the fuck out of them, but all I wanted to do was be able to possibly get out of pain and not have to worry about my paycheck after that. So, I called someone else in the company who I knew would lose his shit if I told him I'd basically just been told I had no work to do.

Two days after surgery, I had an email from HR to my personal account. Which, technically, they ALSO should not have used to contact me while on medical leave that was--like my disability paperwork--100% lined up and signed off on.

But the HR person wanted me to know that "Oh, looks like there IS work for you! Lol! Didn't know!"

This is bullshit. She was very aware.

Years later, I'm at a much better company. My supervisor, who is nothing but supportive, recently floated that it might be good to have ADA paperwork in place for my migraines because they flare during stress, which is the time I'm needed at work THE MOST.

No shit: I went into hard shutdown for about two minutes after he said it. It wasn't a threat or a dismissal of my migraines. It was him going, "Oh, hey, so no one can ever try to use them against you to say you're bad with stress, you might do this."

But all I felt was how I was absolutely fucked over by a bad company because they said, "You need to follow these legal steps," and I did, and they still tried to get around them.

So, no, I'm not dealing with getting punished if I have more than 2k in my bank account. I'm not dealing with people touching me, or my assistive devices (I don't currently use any). I can park anywhere in a lot and walk to the store entrance. But I was disabled, and I AM disabled, and I have had people try to punish me for existing in a body that just fucking HURTS because it HURTS.

It's Disability Awareness Month. I am disabled. Less so than I was ten years ago, which is a fucking stroke of luck. But also my right hip has started to go now, and who knows what the next 10 years will bring.

It's Disability Awareness Month. If someone says, "I'm disabled, and I want to talk about my experience," please pay attention and listen and learn and understand there's all sorts of ways disabled people are fighting to be treated with basic human dignity and under the basic rule of law.

[theabigailthorn]

Have you considered moving to america? you know there are a lot of blond americans in america, and most of them would be absolutely enchanted by a tall lady with a fancy-pants british accent

I've thought about it, for career reasons rather than romance!

It's a difficult question. If I were to move to the US, right now L.A. would be the place to go: I have contacts there and I'm developing projects there. It's likely I'd be able to have a better standard of living out there too. There's also the political angle: if the Conservatives win the next British election there's a nonzero chance I'll have to leave the country because if they pass a national bathroom law and I can't use a women's toilet, I can't go to work on a set or in a theatre! I know the US is worse in a lot of places, but at least over there some politicians are standing up for trans people, some politicians are trans, some cities are refusing to comply with discriminatory laws... There seems to be a better line of defence over there, in some places? The sorts of places I would be going to live anyway. It feels like in the US the extremes are more extreme: some states are worse than Britain, but some are actually better. I think the US entertainment industry is in some ways ahead of the UK on trans issues - I've had British people straight up refuse to work with me cause I'm trans even though that's illegal, and string me along for ages cause they think I'll be a diversity checkbox for them. Whereas in my (admittedly limited) experience American producers are more willing to give me a shot and don't see my transness as an obstacle. The producers of [SUPER REDACTED] are American and they gave me that role even though the character is written as cis and cis women auditioned alongside me! I thanked one of them like, "Hey, this sort of thing has never been done and it's not the sort of thing trans people are usually allowed anywhere near!" and she was like, "Bwuh? You nailed the audition, why wouldn't we give it to you?" I said to her at the wrap party, "The idea that a trans woman could be a [PERFORMER OF THIS TYPE] has not yet entered the minds of anyone outside this room, and when it does it's going to be a gamechanger for all of us." See also Nebula! I pitched Dracula's Ex-Girlfriend to them and they greenlit it 15 days later. Contrastingly, I emailed a pitch deck and pilot episode for a trans-led TV series to a bunch of British production companies back in August and a lot of them haven't even read it yet. I like working for Americans because they just seem to get it on a level that a lot of Brits don't, yet.

On the other hand!

The entire US entertainment industry is about to move to Britain! So, maybe the smart career move is to stay. My family are here, my home is here, and despite everything I do love this country. I would be sad to leave. But we'll see. The next few years are likely to be a little... unusual. My plan right now is to have one foot in both countries, and then perhaps at some point the acting industry will make the decision for me.

[scarfacemarston]

Could you maybe probably sort of kind of pretty please with a cherry on top write a Natasha x reader? Wlw preferred but nbreader is cool too. Maybe like a prank fic? I love pranks so much they bring so much serotonin into my veins 💋💋💋

Natasha x F! Reader prank people

Warnings: LOTS of cussing from Rumlow because that's just the type of guy he is. Takes place before the Hydra reveal. You loved a lot of things about Natasha. Who wouldn’t love the woman? You were the luckiest gal in the world to call her your partner. You loved how many layers she had to her and felt honored to see the softer, more playful side of her. Not many people knew that she had a penchant for pranks. It was quite simple for her to play pranks on people and let chaos reign because no one ever suspected it was the severe and stoic Black Widow.

Sometimes, she would prank people and give the most mischievous and playful smile -reserved only for you.

Well, there came a time when you wanted to join in. After all, it was a fun new way for you two to bond as a couple. Natasha quirked an eyebrow at your request but accepted it anyway.

Some of her favorite targets included Isaac Murphy, Brock Rumlow, and the IT guy from the 7th floor of the Shield Headquarters.

“You remember that I like to play the long game here, right? No salt in the sugar container or pie in the face antics. That’s child’s play. No, I want them to be either very confused, suffering or both. You can handle that, can’t you?” Natasha said with a quick of her lips. You scoffed.

“Of course I can! I have some ideas of my own, you know.” You defended yourself. Natasha crossed her arms. “Well this I have to hear.” “Well, I hate Brock Rumlow, too. I have a simple, but obnoxious prank on him, but he might tear up the room.” You warned.

“Hm, if it’s too awful, I’ll have to hear his loud mouth whining about it. Save your best idea for him to make it worth it.” Natasha thought aloud.

“Okay, will do. This Murphy guy, you have his email and number, right? Why not sign him up for the most famous mega church we can find? Joel Olsteen or Kenneth Copland, like that!.”

“He’s suspicious. I’m not sure what is off about him, but I will find out. But, not a bad idea, but I think we can do worse.”

“I’m getting there! What about various political campaigners? We could do Obama, Romney, Kennedy and even more local politicians. I receive those emails and texts daily despite donating to a Green Party campaign six years ago. That’s just one! Imagine how horrible three or more would be!” You enthused.

Natasha grinned. “Not bad, but I really want him to suffer.” “I was thinking we could give his name to various military recruiters? ” You suggested. “I’ll suggest his name to a multi-level marketing group so they can try to recruit him, too. Not bad for your first prank.” Nat said, hugging you from behind. “I think we can do even better.” Nat muttered in your ear.

“Okay, for Rumlow - I was thinking we trick him into thinking there’s somebody who takes his desk during the night shift. Uses his chair, desk, everything.” You said, a grin curling on your features. “Hm, sounds promising. Go on” She murmured. “Well, I was thinking we move his stuff around every day before he comes in. Maybe lay a crossword puzzle or newspapers scattered in the morning that look read? Move his pens, and everything else!” You laughed. Natasha nodded in approval. I think we should leave half-eaten bags of chips, half-drunk water bottles, and candy wrappers so he thinks someone has been eating there. That will get him. He’s quite possessive with his stuff.” Nat suggested. You gasped. “Oh, he’s going to hate that.” “Yep. And to end it up, we can have multiple files on his computer that look like they’re from Murphy, Jack Rollins and Sitwell. All of them sometimes work the night shifts.” Nat laughed as she turned to face you. ‘Imagine the fights!”

“I’ll be sure to tape them, don’t you worry, love,” Natasha said, tapping your nose.

It wasn’t long until Natasha invited you to have lunch with her at a SHIELD gathering. It was a relaxed affair where nothing intelligence-related was discussed. A few other SHIELD members invited their partners or children as well.

Natasha smirked as she took her seat next to you and placed a plate of sandwiches and milkshakes on the table for you to share.

“Might as well have something to eat while we enjoy the show. Murphy looks like he’s going to have a mental breakdown. His phone has been going off all day to the point that Rumlow threatened to break it, and Maria Hill threatened to take disciplinary action."

At that moment, you heard the buzz of a cellphone receiving a notification…and another…and another.

“They won’t leave me alone!” Murphy whined.

“Shut that damn phone up, or I’m smashing it. I don’t give a fuck about any “disciplinary action.”

“It’s the number, you idiot. Not the phone!” Murphy said, raising his voice.

“Then change the fucking number!” Rumlow raised his voice.

“I can’t! I have too many accounts associated with it! I’d have to start all over!” Murphy whined.

Rollins tromped over, glaring at Murphy. “

All of us are plotting your death, Murphy.” Rollins snapped as he pulled Rumlow by the shoulder away.

“Come on, let’s get you a beer.” Rollins muttered.

“I need more than a damn beer,” Rumlow muttered, stomping off. Soon, the noise was annoying, even the two of you.

Finally, Maria Hill herself made her way over, snatching the phone from Murphy’s hand. “You’re on thin ice, kid,” Hill said, pointing at his face.

Murphy sat, slumping into his chair. “It’s not my fault!” he whined.

You and Natasha exchanged looks as you slipped on your milkshake, stealing one of Natasha’s fries.

“I have to admit, I was close to breaking his phone myself.” Nat admitted.

“Yeah, this might have backfired on us.”

“But it is great to see them at each other’s throats. It distracts them from bothering Steve and I,” Natasha said, stopping your hand from stealing another fry.

“I could have bought you fries, you know.” Nat laughed.

“But I so enjoy stealing yours!” You smiled.

~~~~~ A week later, you received a text from Natasha. “Calling you in a second. Need you to hear this. Need to be silent, though.” “Ok” And with that, your phone began to ring. You picked up immediately only to hear shouting and cursing in the background…from a very familiar voice. It was most certainly Rumlow who had become fed up with the idea of someone “stealing his shit in his space.”

“If I find out which piece of shit is using my desk, I’m going to dismember them! Slowly!” Rumlow bellowed.

You heard a second voice. “No one sits there! Calm down there, alpha male. It’s your space.” Rollins snarked.

“Then where the fuck is this shit coming from? You work the night shift! Why are there files from you, Murphy and Sitwell? “ he shouted.

“Yeah, Over there. That’s how I know no one sits there. I don't know how they got that, Rumlow. I didn't do it." Rollins defended.

“Where did this come from? Or this?” - the sound of objects being thrown came through the phone.”

“Fine, ask Murphy!”

You hear another voice in the background.

“That asshole is on thin ice. If it’s him, good luck finding the body.” Rumlow growled.

“It wasn’t me! I quit working nights last month!” Murphy squeaked.

“That leaves Sitwell, then.” You heard Rollins speak up.

You heard Rumlow growl. “Damn it. That nerd is higher on the ladder than we are…but how about we pay the dweeb a visit anyway?” You heard Rumlow’s voice fade in the background.

You heard Natasha’s voice. “I hope you’re proud of yourself and the chaos you caused,” Nat said, snickering.

“Oh, so proud! I’m sorry you’re having to deal with this, though.” You apologized.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I can handle a few mens’ fragile egos and I can drown them out pretty well. I have to say, you impressed me with your pranks. I might need to watch out…but just know that any pranks you play on me, I’ll get you back with a vengence.” Nat warned.

“….. okay, then it will only be fun ones then! A surprise room of puppies, or baklava randomly appearing in places.” You appeased. Nat gave one of her rare laughs.

“I can live with that. Let’s give the boys a break for now, but we are definitely going to prank them again. Maybe we’ll go after new targets. I have to go. Dinner at Demo’s tonight, same time as usual?”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Love you, Tasha.”

“Love you, Y/N”.

[kingkatsuki]

— when he stands up for you

Masterlist.

Ahh this is the first one from these little drabbles I’m posting! I really hope you enjoy these as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them💕

Warnings: none.

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.3k.

Recruitment days were always a busy time in Dynamight’s agency. Most of the time Bakugou was lucky and could avoid doing the hiring and firing, his HR department more than happy to take care of the payroll. But looking for new sidekicks was important, and these were interviews that Bakugou wanted to deal with personally. He’d already spent the better part of a fortnight shortlisting candidates, Pro-Hero Red Riot had arrived into the agency to help him go through the shortlist. Although you were unsure whether he was more of a help or a hindrance, as the redhead would give you a bored smile whenever he’d escape to refill his coffee mug.

You’d never seen so many interviews scheduled, all appointments for the day postponed in favour of hiring a new sidekick. Smiling softly as you offered each new up and coming Hero a seat as they waited for their turn to impress the number two Dynamight.

You gave him a small smile each time you’d introduce a new interviewee, laying their file and information down in front of him so he could read through their history.

A few hours later you’d finally managed to work your way down the list of candidates to the last name- a young, cocksure hero with a strength quirk. The standout achievements on his resume was that he’d managed to get his hero license before everyone else in his class, saving a coach full of people from falling to their deaths by bending the girders on a bridge. On paper, he sounded pretty impressive. But face to face—

“Oi, how much longer is he gonna be? I got shit to do.” The man shouted from across the room.

You were sympathetic to him, he’d been waiting about fifteen minutes already and usually Bakugou had prompt timekeeping. But a last minute, unexpected call from Uravity had him delayed.

“He’ll be ready to see you soon, thank you for your patience.” You gave him a warm smile from behind your desk as you continued to type out an email to Red Riot’s agency.

“Why don’t you stop checking your Facebook for five minutes and go let him know I’m waiting.” He rolled his eyes.

“Mr Dynamight knows you’re here.” You clenched your jaw to stop yourself from giving a sarcastic retort.

Who the fuck did this guy think he was? You were already hoping that he wouldn’t get the position, already dreading the prospect of having to work alongside this man.

“If he knew I was here I’d be in there already,” He sighed, “So fucking incompetent.”

“Excuse me?” You were used to dealing with all sorts of irate people as Dynamight’s secretary, but you’d never experienced such attitude from a potential recruit.

“Is it too hard for you to understand, sweetheart?” The man scoffed, “Now hurry up and let him know I’m here.”

You were certain this was going to be the day you lost your job, a slew of angry words on the tip of your tongue as you tried to keep your disposition cheery. But you could feel the corners of your lips drooping down as your brows furrowed in a glare.

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Your professionalism was slowly morphing into anger as you stood from your chair behind your desk, glaring at the ma n.

“What did you say?” Your head snapped towards the door to Dynamight’s office which was now wide open, your boss stepping out onto the floor as he’d cleverly heard the commotion.

“Dynamight, sir!” The man’s sneer quickly turned into a disingenuous smile as he made his way over to Bakugou in quick strides, reaching his hand out for him to shake, but Bakugou’s gaze remained focused directly into his eyes.

“Is that how you talk to my staff?”

“She wasn’t doing her job—” The young sidekick dropped his hand as he turned to glare at you, “She wouldn’t let you know I was waiting.”

“She,” Bakugou mimicked his tone, “Was doing her job perfectly. With that kind of attitude you’ll never make it as a hero.”

You felt your heart racing as you watched the scene in front of you, swelling with pride that Bakugou was defending you in front of his asshole as you couldn’t help but admire how pretty he looked when he was irate.

“Get out.” Bakugou spoke over the man who was currently talking about his work history, his patience already thin as he walked directly past him and made a beeline for your desk.

You’d never felt so glad that Bakugou was such an excellent judge of character, thankful that you wouldn’t have to deal with a man like that inside the agency each day.

“— I recently finished my work study with Fourth Kind.” He continued.

“One call and no one in this city will hire you,” Bakugou snarled.

The young man looked as though he might cry as his lower lip wobbled, frozen in place as Bakugou crossed his arms over his chest.

“I won’t repeat myself again,” He continued, “Get out.”

You felt vindicated as you watched the man leave, the once cocky persona reduced to nothing as the elevator doors dinged to close. Your entire body felt as though it was on fire from how protective Bakugou had been over you, a heat rising to your cheeks as you avoided eye contact. Afraid you’d give away your feelings for him if you met his gaze.

“Hey,” Bakugou rasped, “You good?”

“I’m okay,” You smiled, “Pretty used to assholes like him.”

“That don’t mean it’s right,” He continued, “Fuckin’ prick.”

“I mean, he was your last interview so at least on the plus side you’re done for the day.” You smiled.

“Let me grab us some coffee and you can help me pick someone.” Bakugou smiled back, already walking towards the machine at the end of the hall.

“I don’t think I’m qualified for that—“ You called out to him.

There was no way you could pick his new sidekick, especially if you picked an annoying one. You’d never hear the end of it.

“You saw the list of people.” Bakugou continued, “And you met them all today, same as me.”

“Well yeah, but—”

“So, it’s settled.” He grinned, checking his watch, “Shit, I didn’t even realise how late it was.”

“Yeah, it’s been a pretty long day.”

“Okay, so new plan.” Bakugou smiled, turning towards you as the coffee machine was still heating up, “Dinner at that little ramen place and you help me pick my new sidekick.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to ask Kiri- Red Riot?”

“I trust you.” He gave you a genuine smile.

The words had you melting beneath his gaze, crimson eyes locking with your own as you felt your knees begin to go weak. Trying to push your feelings for your boss to the back of your mind as you prayed the butterflies would stop fluttering against your ribcage.

“Okay, but you’re paying.” You grinned.

“As if I’d ever let you pay, sweetheart.” Bakugou smiled back.

If you’d been paying attention you would’ve noticed the way Bakugou stood a little closer to you that night as you walked side by side to the little hole in the wall ramen bar, he’d blame it on the brisk winter air if you asked, but it was really because he wanted to wrap an arm around you to shield you from the biting chill.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 20: FINAL

So guess what I realized this morning. Today, November 13, 2023 is the one year anniversary of me posting my first DPxDC fic to tumblr. It was the original fill for this very fic. (Which you can find here.)

So I decided I just had to finish this arc and get it posted. This year has been amazing and so much fun. I've become a much better writer and joined a community that has brought me so much joy. I'm glad to be here and I'm glad so many of you like to read what I'm sharing.

I noticed I got a few new readers over the past week or so, so welcome to all of you! Hope you enjoy this early update!

In personal news, my nephew was born and he's adorable and I'll be meeting him tomorrow! (As soon as I'm done posting this, I'm off to make food for his mom.)

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Arc 1

Arc 2: Part 1, Previous

Word Count: 1.2k

-----

In the end, it ended up taking several hours for Danny, Sam, and Tucker to escape their families and converge on the park. In that time, Tim had called Bruce to let him know he’d be back in Gotham by tomorrow and finished most of his homework.

While he worked, Wulf and Bart were having an animated conversation in Esperanto.

Tim was pretty sure Wulf would be bringing Bart to the Ghost Zone for a tour sometime and started making plans to learn Esperanto himself and bribe Bart to get in on them.

Cassie was helping Conner sort through some of the music Sam had given him. Tim was jealous as he solved more banal trig questions. Why did school have to be so boring? He tapped his pencil on the paper in time to the beat of whatever music Conner had playing.

Tucker was the first to arrive. “Danny and Sam not here yet?” he asked as he plopped down next to Bart and Wulf.

“Nope. Haven’t heard from them, either,” said Tim. He opened his phone notifications again just to be sure, but there was nothing new.

Tucker shrugged and pulled out a stick of jerkey to munch on. “Not surprising. The Fentons will be all overprotective after the mayor was kidnapped by a ghost on live TV. And Sam’s parents are just as bad. Only they smother rather than check the weaponry.” He turned to greet Wulf in Esperanto.

An email came through on Tim’s phone and he groaned. “Our evening interview was canceled. No one wants to hear us try to defend Phantom anymore.”

Cassie cursed. “Course not. Bet the paper won’t publish our editorials either.”

Conner looked over, confused. “Won’t they? Clark works for the Daily Planet. They publish stuff like that all the time.”

Tim didn’t look up from his math as he answered, “That’s the difference between a big, Pulitzer winning publication and a small-town op-ed.”

Tucker sighed. “Well maybe someone will remember your interviews from this morning in a positive light.”

Bart rolled his eyes. “Come on, we can’t change it. So let’s move forward. Next step, make friends with more ghosts! Wulf says there’s a bunch of cool people in the Realms.”

“Realms?” asked Tim.

“It’s what he says the Ghost Zone is actually called. The Infinite Realms.”

“Huh. I’ll have to check JL databases, see if they have any information on them.”

Tucker asked something in Esperanto and Bart burst out laughing as Wulf looked on in confusion.

With Bart’s help, though, he rephrased until Wulf was able to reply. And then the three kept to Esperanto. Tim really had to find time to learn it.

Sam was the next to arrive. She grinned and sat down next to Conner. “How you liking the music?”

Conner grinned and showed her the sheets where he ranked the bands so far based on which songs he’d listened to. She then took over the speakers and searched for specific tracks to try and change his mind about some of the bands he liked the least.

Tim let his eyes close as his friends’ voices washed over him.

After some indeterminate time where he dozed between sleeping and awareness, a foot nudged his hip. Tim grumbled out what was supposed to be a, “What?” but was too mumbled to really be understood.

“Come on, Secrets. You can do better than that.”

Tim cracked an eye open to see Danny grinning down at him. He pushed himself up slightly and blinked heavily in the sunlight.

“Finally got away from your parents?” asked Tim.

Danny collapsed on the ground next to him. “Ugh, don’t remind me. They’re freaking out over everything that’s happened the last few days. Jazz and I are basically going to be on lock down until they feel confident the ghosts are gone.”

“Did you have to sneak out to get here?” asked Cassie.

Danny shook his head. “No, I told them I was going to find you guys to make sure you were all safe. You’re welcome to come back to ours tonight, by the way. Mom and Dad basically insisted on it.”

“What do you guys think?” asked Tim. “Spend one more night here at Danny’s and head out in the morning?”

Cassie sighed. “My mom’s already freaking out that I’ve been gone longer than planned. I should get back tonight.”

“I’ll stay,” offered Conner. “I’m your ride home, anyway.”

“Why don’t you come to my place, Conner,” offered Sam. “Your nails need a fresh coat after fighting today. And I need teach you about the different brands of makeup and what to look for in terms of cost, quality, and ethicality. Plus I can get you more music.”

Tim laughed when Conner looked to him. “Go for it. Have fun.”

Conner grinned. “Then yeah, let’s do it!”

Bart shrugged. “Wulf is going to go back to the Realms soon. I’ll head out after. Wally and Linda want me over for a family dinner tonight.”

“Well, looks like that’s it, then,” sighed Danny. “Been fun having other heroes around.”

Tim nudged his shoulder. “Join the Young Justice. You could join us and we'd help out whenever you wanted. Get you around people who actually appreciate what you do for them.”

But Danny was already shaking his head. “I have to stay here. And now Amity trusts heroes even less. I want to improve that, not make it worse.”

“Even if you don’t join,” declared Conner. “You’re not getting rid of us now.”

Bart nodded his agreement. “Yep. We’re gonna be stopping by all the time. You’re in the group chat.”

“Exactly,” agreed Tim. “And we’ll figure out ways to help you. Starting with how to minimize property damage. That seems to be the big thing people focus on. You can make shields, right? How big can you make them and how much power do they take?”

Danny smiled wryly. “Can’t say I’ve really tested it.”

Tim laughed. “Well, I know one thing we’re doing tonight. We’re going to go back to Nasty Burger—” Tim looked around at the whole group “—all of us. Then Cassie and Bart are going to go home. Danny and I, at least, are going to take a nap. Then we’re gonna test the current limits to Danny’s powers.”

Danny bumped their shoulders together. “You know, this is just like gaming with you all those years.”

“Yeah, well, it’s best to be thorough.”

“We’ve measured, like, his top speed and stuff,” said Tucker, pulling out a PDA. “Want to see what we’ve got so far?”

“Absolutely.” Tim took the device and looked through it. “You’ve a decent amount of information here. Maybe instead of taking a nap, I’ll help you organize it and come up with a testing plan.”

Conner flew over to him and pulled the PDA out of his hand. “Not after pulling an all-nighter you won’t. We’re going to get some food, then the two of you are going to sleep for at least four hours.”

“I’ll set Jazz on you, too,” threatened Sam. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tim pouted as the device was given back to Tucker. And grumbled more when Conner picked him up and threw him over his shoulder.

“Come on, food time.”

“I am going to put kryptonite in your phone,” threatened Tim.

“Bingo!” shouted Cassie.

Danny laughed as he stood. “Does this mean I can join the next round?”

Tim scowled. “Traitors, all of you.”

-----

Next

And that's the end of this Arc! Arc 3 will pick up where the original fill did. (Only this time, Tim won't be the only DC character there to help Danny.)

I'd say something like I can't believe it's only been a year, but so much has happened to me in the last twelve months that it feels like a lifetime ago, to be honest. But it's been a good year and I'm glad this community has been part of it.

Please follow the subscription post if you want updates for when I start transferring this arc to AO3 or begin posting Arc 3.

[redhoodedangel]

“Safety in Pills, Y/N” - Arkham Knight! Jason X Reader

I’m not sure how many people who played or seen the Arkham Games also watched ‘The Walten Files’ by Martin Walls on YouTube cause that’s what this is inspired off of…

In essence, Y/N is Sophie Walten…

The premise is that Jason and Y/N were dating around the time he was Robin. Y/N did know about the identities of the others. When Jason is kidnapped and later killed by Joker, Y/N is left traumatized and heartbroken. She is then given meds in order to better cope with the loss. Unfortunately, this caused her to drift apart from the Bat Family and blurs her memories of Jason. However, around the time of Joker’s death, she starts having nightmares and dreams about Jason. Her meds then stop working and she rejoins the Batman Family around when the Arkham Knight makes an appearance.

Warning ⚠️: themes of torture, death and mental health, mentions of medical drug use, amnesia (sort of)

Y/N and Jason are the same age

~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~

‘Don’t forget your medicine, Y/N!’

‘Take your meds, kiddo!'

‘Safety in pills, Y/N…’

That’s all you’ve heard since you were seventeen. You were now twenty-one and no longer needed your meds that help you through your trauma. Or rather, the meds were not helping you at all, but were hindering you in a way you didn’t realize until about nine to ten months ago.

Your medication was blurring many memories of your childhood, teenage years and even early adult years. During the time you had started taking the pills, you had drifted apart from your late boyfriend, Jason Todd’s, family. Hell, you even lost many memories of him as well. All those good and happy memories you made together…

This went on for over three years… until the nightmares crept in around the time Joker had gotten sick and was dying…

The nightmares were horrific, like a home movie gone wrong. It showed horrible visions of what happened to your boyfriend while he was being held hostage by Joker. Those flashing images are what kept you up most nights.

You immediately made your way back to Bruce and the others after the death of the Joker. After explaining everything that happened, they welcomed you back with open arms. Bruce even started looking into your therapist, who prescribed you your meds. Her email showed many threatening messages from a Mr. Jerome V, ordering her to tamper with your meds or she and her family would die. Bruce then relaid to you that Jerome V was one of many of Joker’s old aliases he used during his early years of crime.

However, when Joker fell ill, your therapist took you off the meds that were blocking your memories. This, of course, is what led to your nightmares and varied dreams about Jason. Without the barrier keeping your past memories locked up, you were prone to regaining them.

Joker wanted you to forget about Jason…

For what reason, you nor Bruce nor anyone could figure out…

And it was likely you never would find out…

~~~~~~~

Fast forward to now, Halloween night during Scarecrow’s big takeover. You were currently with Barbara in the Clock Tower, munching on some burgers you pulled from a fast food restaurant that was abandoned during the evacuation.

This whole situation had you on edge, especially in regards to Scarecrow’s new partner, the Arkham Knight. Much of the information you all had on him showed what he was capable of. He was young and skilled, judging by how he called Bruce ‘old man’. His true voice was disguised, but it felt familiar to you. You just couldn’t understand why…

You clutched at the oversized dark red hoodie you were wearing. It was big on you because it had originally belonged to Jason before he died. It was given to you by Alfred as a reminder of who you had loved and lost. It quickly became a comfort item to you, even holding the remaining scent of cologne, rainwater and smoke that was Jason’s.

“How are you holding up, Y/N?” Barbara asked with a tone of concern, still looking and typing away at her screens.

“I’m fine, Barb. This whole thing just has me in knots.”

“That’s not what I meant…” Barbara said softly, looking at you now for an honest answer. She then added, “How are you doing really?”

You sighed and took another bite out of your half-eaten burger. You chewed thoroughly before answering, “You remember that NCIS two-parter, ‘Hiatus’?”

Barbara thought on your response, “That’s the episode where Gibbs nearly gets killed in an explosion and loses years worth of his memories, right?”

“Yeah… well, I feel like Gibbs after that two part episode. My memory is still fuzzy… I screw up remembering certain people’s names… I remember a lot of things about Jason… our relationship and things like that… but I feel like there’s still some things I’m forgetting about… but I don’t know what…” You said solemnly, looking out of the clock face onto the rest of the city.

“I’m sorry, Y/N/N. I know this is hard for you. Jason’s death affected us all in more than one way. Just know that he really liked you, even loved you…”

You smiled at the redhead, a little more reassured than before. It was always nice to have someone to talk to and rely on during tough times.

After what was probably several hours, you and Barbara got a call from Batman…

“Barbara, you and Y/N need to get out there now!” He exclaimed through the comms. You immediately went over and grabbed your baseball bat before hiding behind one of the bookshelves.

The power then cut out and the elevator opened abruptly. Just then, the Arkham Knight and his men came in, barreling towards Barbara. Barbara fired off a few rubber rounds before being overpowered.

Another soldier came around your bookshelf and you immediately started swinging. You nailed him in the head and flipped him over the shelf. One more militiaman came over and you swung, shattering his left arm. He dropped his gun and you kicked him down.

The Arkham Knight immediately sprung into action, grabbing the bat in your hands in an attempt to disarm you. Knowing that punching him would be a death wish and a half, you immediately let go of the bat. Unfortunately, you lose your footing and hit the back of your head against a nearby bookshelf.

The impact from the fall sent pain shooting through your head. Your vision blurred the more you struggled to stay awake, your body fading away to unconsciousness. The last thing you saw before passing out was the Arkham Knight throwing your bat to the side and walking up to you. You could hear the click of handcuffs when everything faded to black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your whole body stirred as you groaned from the pain in your head. As your raised your hand to touch your head, you then realized that you were bound in handcuffs. You also figured out that your head was bandaged up.

You slowly sat up, trying to prevent any more pain or disorientation. Judging by your surroundings, you were locked up in a rectangular box of a cell. Nothing but a makeshift mattress under you and a table near the sealed door. The fact that you were so small compared to the room began to overwhelm you. Some of the anxiety was curbed on account that you were still wearing Jason’s hoodie, but you were still trembling.

Through the glass, you could see the soldiers guarding the outside your cell. You even spotted one of them, who looks at you and noticed that you were awake, began to call someone on his comm. You assumed that he was calling his boss, the Arkham Knight. It just seemed like the most logical explanation for what was going on.

This assumption was proven right as the man himself walked into the room…

He then came right into your cell, his men leaving to who knows where. He reached for his guns before placing them on the nearby table, where your phone and baseball bat were placed. This alone had you backing further into the corner of your cell.

“Y’know, you don’t have to be afraid of me…” The Arkham Knight’s voice was surprisingly gentle when addressing you, despite the harsh edge of the voice modulator.

“Isn’t exactly easy when one of the people responsible for Gotham’s takeover is in the same room as you…” you stammered, clutching Jason’s, now your hoodie.

The Knight then turned around, making his way towards you. You did your best not to panic and look afraid, but you were terrified. He soon swiped a piece of your hair softly, which you lightly flinched at. As if he felt it, the Arkham Knight slowly pulled his hand back. Instead, his gloved hand made contact with the crimson fabric of your hoodie.

“That’s oddly big on you… Someone gave this to you…”

Your eyes grew blurry as tears began to bubble to the surface. Abandoning all your promises of keeping your secret from strangers, you spoke…

“A friend of my late boyfriend’s gave it to me… it was originally his… before he was killed…”

The Knight took a moment to speak, as if your sorrow took him by surprise, “I’m sorry…”

“You got nothing to be sorry about. You’re not the one who shot him… it was Joker and he doesn’t feel remorse for anyone or regret anything for shit. He as hell didn’t regret when he forced my therapist to give me a memory-blocking antidepressant…”

The Arkham Knight cocked his head in question and confusion.

“The pills my therapist prescribed to me made me forget previous years of my life. Including when I was dating my boyfriend and everything we did together. I started taking my medication when he was killed to keep me afloat.”

“Why was he killed?” The Arkham Knight asked, sitting on top of the table next to his weapons coolly. You almost chose not to tell him when you realized that he knew almost everything about Batman and the others. So, who knows what else he might know…

“He was a Robin… the previous one before the current one. I only knew because he chose to tell me… to keep things honest and on the table…”

You took a deep breath as words became harder to speak and come up with…

“The Joker… he took him… tortured and broke him… I… I spent a lot of that time, wondering if he was ever going to come home… if everything was okay and go back to the way it was. But that video came up and…”

Tears overwhelmed you as you begin to remember that horrible year. Your whole body trembled as you recalled every gruesome and excruciating detail. You hiccuped and heaved on the sobs that escaped your mouth.

“H-He didn’t deserve any of what Joker put him through… he-… he just wanted to help others. Sure, he had a different perspective on crime compared to Batman, but… he was willing to take the risk… Hell, telling me he was Robin at the time was a risk… I just miss him so fucking much…”

“It wasn’t your fault. Never has been and never will be…”

“It should’ve been me…”

“Yeah, and then your boyfriend would’ve still gone after the Joker. Nothing would’ve changed except the timing…”

“How would you know?! It’s not like you’re here… in his cell…”

Silence cut the air like a hammer striking a nail once cleanly. You began to wonder what was going on in the Arkham Knight’s head. Why he hadn’t said anything yet or walk away with little care for what you had just said. However, you were not prepared for what he said next…

“Actually, I was…”

You looked at him in shock, wondering what he meant. Surely, he wasn’t insinuating that he was witness to the horrors that Jason was. Surely, he wasn’t saying that he was living in the same hell as your deceased love. What exactly was he trying to say?

Letting out what sound like a heavy sigh, the Knight reached for his helmet. He latched onto the sides of the mocked cowl and began to lift. You backed away further, almost as if you were trying to move through the wall. Suddenly, the masked was finally off…

“Oh, god…”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Part one done!

[strangebiology]

Free Resources I Made for Nonfiction Book Writers - $$$

If you're writing a nonfiction, non-memoir book, you're welcome to join my free monthly video chat group Authors of Nonfiction Books in Progress (ANBIP.) If you join you'll get the recap emails and the invites to meetings, but if you don't like meetings, then just enjoy the emails. Note that it's sort of a professional group so we talk about book writing as more of a job than some universal higher calling or whatever.

Through that, I've had a few people ask me for some of the following documents in this journey, so I decided, why not just make a copy for sharing so that anyone can find them, instead of just people who email me? Feel free to use these as samples, share them, whatever. But first:

What I wish I had known before the book: While I'm here, before you start your book proposal, I learned too late that you can get paid $80,000 to write one at a journalism fellowship! People do that at the Knight Science Journalism Fellowship, The Scripps Fellowship at the Center for Environmental Journalism, and probably the other Knight Journalism fellowships that I haven't looked into. So, keep your ears open for fellowships if you're thinking of starting a nonfiction book proposal.

To the resources...

Results from my agent search Note: most people suggest Publisher's Marketplace, so, even though I didn't like my results from looking there, there is surely a reason everyone else does.

My Book Proposal & how I contacted the agent Result: contract with MIT Press to write a book about dead animals and $50,000 advance.

My Proposal for the Sloan Grant Result: I got $56,053 for the book Carcass. Also, at least two other people in my group got the grant, and one mentioned that she never would have known about it if it weren't for ANBIP, nor would she have applied!

List of suggested grants to apply to Note: most of these book grants--and most legit ones in the world--require a traditional contract. I find a lot of "prizes" for people without trad contracts are not grants at all, but an effort to get you to think you "won" what is, in effect, a contract. That's fine if the contract is fine, but don't let them stroke your ego with the words "you won" if you think you could get a better contract elsewhere. A grant is more like free money.

I also got $500 and some free resources--and miiiiight get some more money in the future?--from a program called Investing in Wyoming's Creative Economy, so, maybe your state has something similar. IWCE is brand new (started in 2023) so we'll see if it even continues on. MANY funding opportunities only exist for a few years before they run out.

My contract with my fact-checker

How I found Science Advisors & how I described their task Note: I really just made this up, as with the contract with the fact-checker. I'm just some person and I'm only giving these to you because I couldn't find anyone else's that may have been done better! Make a copy, read through it carefully, and make all the changes you need to yours. Or if you already have a better one to look to, send it to me and LMK if I can send it to my colleagues at ANBIP!

Spreadsheet National Park Artists in Residences Applications Note: I have never got any of these, and most don't pay or work well for writers, TBH. But I know a science writer who did get one. Also, I only included the ones I liked in this spreadsheet and left out the historic parks. Here's a map of more and the National Park Arts Foundation. I only apply to free ones because I noticed that one residency said they got 800 applications and the fee was $120, which, mathematically, is like paying $96,000 to do it (and that one paid $4,000 to the winner.) Also: state parks and BLM land have Artist in Residence programs!

Copy of #PublishingPaidMe spreadsheet (I didn't make this, and I don't recommend making graphics or pivot tables from this as some of the numbers are def wrong)

Book Progress thermometer

That's all for now! If you found this helpful, just pay it forward by being open with your experience for the next people who ask you.

PS. My next task is finding events to hire me to do talks about the topic of my book, which is dead animals. I know some authors make plenty of money on speaker fees after their book is launched! But I'm struggling to find events/places to speak because I mostly only want to go places where I am paid, but I also worry about a conflict of interest if I'm paid by organizations I've covered--or even, orgs that promote or protest anything that I've covered in general! I don't want to be a PETA-funded journalist or a Safari Club International-funded journalist either. If you have experience with setting up a book tour where you profited financially and were journalistically clear, I'd love to hear your story!

[retrospacejelly]

Hello! I would like to request SpiderNoir crushing on a Fem Reader throughout the Spiderverse Movies. For example maybe he started crushing on her in atsv and it parallels Miles and Gwen's Relationship in a way. Does that even make sense?

Hi there! I am so sorry for just posting this now, things have been kinda hectic. I hope I did your request justice!  I was having some writer's block with the plot, so hopefully, it’s okay!

Misunderstandings

Pairing: Spider-Noir x FemScientist!Reader

Summary: Y/N L/N is among the many non-spider people at Spider Society. Despite this, she’s somehow managed to befriend the mysterious Spider-Noir. However, convinced she’s stuck in the friend zone, a date with a certain cowboy may prove her wrong…

Not Proofread

Warnings:  Language (barely)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just another drab day at work. Clock in at five in the morning, try to get the first cup of coffee from the freshly brewed pot and be sat in her office by 8:15.

And as usual, she’s right on schedule. Booting up the monitor, Y/N sighs quietly, mentally preparing for the long day ahead. As she checks her emails, a dark figure creeps up in front of her. 

Without bothering to look she mutters, “I haven’t even drank my coffee yet. Don’t ask me for anything.”. The figure chuckles softly, amused at her words.

“Guess you don’t want this hot, better quality coffee from down the street then, huh?” he asks. Y/N’s head shoots up, an apologetic smile creeping onto her face. “Sorry, Peter. Had a long night.” 

The spider hums at her response, handing her the cup of coffee. “Heavy workload today Angel Face?” he asks, plaopping down in the chair on the otherside of her desk.

Y/N felt a blush spread across her face. She really shouldn’t have this sort of reaction. He always gave her names like that. “Not really, Miguel’s been too busy trying to track down that Miles kid. So just answering emails and filing paperwork. Sorry you couldn’t catch him the other day, by the way. But I do understand where the poor boy’s coming from.”. She says, rubbing the bridge of her nose.

Spider-Noir nods, his expression turning sour under his mask.

“Yea, it’s okay. Saw you and that cowboy talking yesterday. What did he want?” he asks trying to keep his tone monotone.

Y/N gave him a smirk, placing her head in her hands. “Why do you wanna know? Jealous?” she shoots back.

He lets out a scoff. “And why would I be jealous of you?” he snaps, his stomach dropping at his attitude.

She had to admit that his words stung. She mentally cringed, regretting poking fun at him. “It was,It was a joke, Peter. No need to get so offended.”. 

He’s in a stunned silence, trying to justify himself. Of course he’s jealous! Him and Y/N were close friends, and he wished more than anything that it could blossom into something more. And all of a sudden that pretentious Web-Slinger just waltzes in like he’s known her or years.

If it was any other spider he wouldn’t be as concerned, but Web-Slinger was known for his flirting amongst both scientists and spiders.

Her voice brings him back to reality.

“If you really want to know,” she starts, her tone quieter “He asked me if I was free this evening.” 

Spider-Noir sat tall. “He what?” he almost barks, his blood boiling.

“He offered to take me out to the new Italian place that opened up a couple blocks down. He says it’s a thank you for helping him clean the cuts he got while chasing Miles.” 

The dark spider’s shoulders tense. “Seems a bit fancy, doesn’t it Doll?” 

Now its her turn to scoff, rolling her eyes. “He’s paying, how could I pass up free food? And besides, you’re not jealous of someone like me.” 

He sighs, standing from the chair. “You’re right, I’m not jealous.” and with that, Spider-Noir walks out of her office, practically slamming the door.

Y/N was confused, frustrated, and angry. Clearly something upset him, but what? Was he that offended by her jesting? 

Shaking her head, she turns to her computer, staring blankly at the email filled screen in front of her.

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

The day had dragged on longer than she would’ve liked. But with Peter giving her the cold shoulder all afternoon, time seemed to have slowed.

She sighs, packing up for the evening. She had about an hour before Web-Slinger, or Patrick O’Hara, would pick her up from her apartment.

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

Maybe the food wasn’t worth possibly losing her best friend. 

Y/N mentally sighs as Patrick went on yet another tangent about his heroism. Her pasta now long forgotten, she makes glances towards the windows behind him, praying that Peter would show up.

A flash of grey and black.

What the…?

She blinks once, twice, before turning her attention back to Patrick. 

Eventually Patrick gets called to put a villain away in his universe, and Y/N couldn’t be more grateful.

Walking out of the restaurant, to go box in hand, the scientist makes her way to her apartment. So much for a ride home.

“I know you’re there, Spidey.” she says, not bothering to look behind her.

Spider-Noir makes an appearance beside her. “Guess I’m not as sneaky as I thought, huh, Angel Face?” he asks, trying to lighten the awkward atmosphere.

“What are you doing here, Peter?” Y/N mutters, not hiding her scowl.

The two continue to walk to her apartment. “I wanted to apologize, Y/N.” he admits, now stopping in front of her door.

“For what? You didn’t do anything wrong.” she responcds passive aggressively, looking through her purse for her keys.

“Will you just,” he stops her hands with one of his, “listen to me? Please?” he begs, his voice soft.

She looks up at him expectantly. 

He sighs, “I was jealous, okay? We’re best friends, and I want to be more, but seeing that hound dog Web-Slinger just…It got on my nerves. You could do so much better! I am sorry that I snapped at you, and I’m sorry that I even took it out on you in the first place. I care about you, Y/N. I really do.” he confesses, not taking a breath.

Her eyes widen in surprise, and her face heats up. “You, care about me?” she asks.

Peter nods, stepping closer. “I do, Doll. I fell hard for you the first day we met.” 

Y/N smiles softly, looking up at him. Without a second thought, she reaches up to lift the bottom of his mask, mindful of possible passerbys. She leans in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He feels as though his heart had just exploded, quickly responding to the kiss. Peter bends her down dramatically, before pulling back up and releasing for air.

Panting softly, Y/N lets out a small cough. She holds up the to go box. “Wanna come in and share? It’s really good, and I kinda lost my appetite a bite in when Web-Slinger wouldn’t stop talking about his adventures.” she says, unabl to hide the smile the creeps onto her face.

Peter chuckles, nodding. “Why let good food go to waste?” he asks rhetorically, following her inside.

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

The two sit cuddled up on the couch, a movie playing on the tv as they eat the leftovers.

“So does this mean we’re dating?” 

Y/N snorts and hits him playfully on the shoulder.

“Of course it does, Peter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[sabraeal]

Friends With Amenities

[Read on AO3]

“I-I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” Shirayuki’s fingers curl against the counter; the only thing keeping her upright as her blood abandons everything below the knee and rushes to her head. “I think there’s been a mistake.”

The concierge points one long nail toward her screen, angled firmly away from the customer side of the counter, eyebrows bumping up against her hairline. “Well, ma’am, it says here that you’re booked for the deluxe king suite, complete with master bath, full kitchenette, and picturesque views of the old quarter.”

“No, I— I’m sure I said two queens.” She’d only made the booking two weeks ago, fingers trembling as she read the number off the department’s travel card, double- and triple-checking that the reservation had been for two adults in two separate beds. “Very sure! I even have the email—”

“Oh yeah, of course.” Nails clatter as the woman waves her hand, unconcerned. Sweat prickles along her spine, and oh, what Shirayuki wouldn’t give to tap into some of the reserve of calm. “But it looks like you were selected for a free upgrade! That means that not only are you welcome to partake in our continental breakfast, but that you also have access to our—”

“But one king is still less than the two beds I asked for.” It’s not as if there’s a problem sharing with Obi— over the past year, she’s probably spent more nights in his bed with him that she’s spent in her own alone the last three— but that’s all…incidental. Something that happens when she agrees to just one more episode, or lets him work on one last slide as she starts in on her bedtime reading. But agreeing to this—

That would be on purpose. A plan to share space. Two bodies beneath the covers touching.

“Can’t you just put me back in my old room?” The bitten ends of her nails carve painful crescents into her palms. “If you upgraded me to a king suite, that means there was a double queen you left empty, doesn’t it?”

The concierge grimaces, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but this conference has got us booked to the gills. If there was a double queen available, it’s been booked out now.”

“But…” Her eyes sting, and ugh— this is a silly thing to to care about. Pedantics, really, when they probably would have ended up curled up on the same bed anyway. But that doesn’t stop the pressure building in her nose, or the hot, helpless tears hanging at the end of her tear ducts. “Why?”

“Ah, I’m not sure of the…er… selection process when it comes to these upgrades, ma’am.” The concierge pointedly looks down at her screen, uselessly wiggling the mouse. “Maybe it was random, or maybe they looked at your reservation and saw something about it that made them think you might have…hm…wanted one bed at a better price point…”

“What would…?” Her teeth snap shut around the question. The double queen was cheaper than a single king; even a couple might look at the price points and decide the extra bed wasn’t a deal breaker. Two people with the same address—

But they didn’t have Obi’s address, or hers. Just the department’s card, and two names, one male, one female.

My point is, you’re in a hotel filled with people who won’t find it intimidating that you can mark a turtle migratory pattern on a map just by looking at its skull. Yuzuri’s shrug is seared onto the back of her eyelids, so casual, like like the logic of work hookups is obvious. What happens at conference stays at conference.

“I’d like to”— speak with your manager perches right at the tip of her tongue, threatening to tip over, to cause a scene, but a deep breath scuttles it before she can founder— “ask if there’s any other rooms available?”

The concierge casts her the sort of side eye Yuzuri could only dream of, but she keys in the request anyway. “The honeymoon suite? That comes with—”

Shirayuki slumps. “I’ll take the deluxe king.”

*

It’s not hard to find Obi— he’s hovering at the edge of the bar, as promised, the entire impossible length of his legs unfurled between seat and floor. There’s the barest hint of tanned skin where his shirt has begun to roll up, and—

And it’s just her luck that Yuzuri’s already there, curled around her drink like her smile’s curls around the straw, watching her watching him.

“There she is!” she calls out, one hand swinging out in invitation. “Suzu’s already searching for swag on the expo floor. I was gonna wait for you, but it looked like things were getting heated down at your end of the counter, so I thought I’d leave you to it.”

There’s an edge of her tongue that could lash out, could cut with a real wry thanks— but it blunts when she considers just what sort of help Yuzuri would have been with one bed on the line.

A dimple furrows itself between Obi’s brow as he sets down his glass, the plastic gator at the bottom bobbling between layers. “Everything all good, Doc? I can go over and cause a problem if you need some—”

There might be no way to guess this cocktail’s composition— some kind of juice, probably, maybe with champagne for bubbles, or vodka for a kick— but whatever it is, it’s certain better than trying to explain all this sober. Shirayuki reaches out with both hands, completely ignoring the suggestion of straw or stirrer, and takes a full gulp.

It’s almost disappointing how little it burns going down. It does taste good though.

Obi lifts a brow. “That bad, huh?”

She takes a breath, running a hand over the back of her mouth before she tells him, “We’ve only got one bed.”

*

“Aw, come on, Doc.” Obi shifts his bag over his shoulder, biceps flexing to redistribute the weight, and haah, it would be nice to get a little warning if he was going to make himself so dangerous to look at. “How bad could it be?”

Her suitcase rolls too close, nipping her heels halfway to the door, but even that can’t keep her from rolling a glare his way. “You know better than to say something like that.”

“I know, I know, but I’m just saying— bed as big as that, we’re practically in different zip codes.” He shrugs, and oh, he might be playing casual, might be pretending that all this hits him like water off a duck’s back, but Shirayuki doesn’t miss the stiffness of those angles, the way tension hampers every twitch. “I could go full starfish and you’d still have to ship international to get to my fingers.”

She snorts. “I think you underestimate just how much limb you have.”

“I think you mean rippling muscle.” He flexes one in demonstration, close enough that she catches the nutmeg and bergamot of his deodorant. “Unending plains of gains. The heartland of hulk. The absolute breadbasket of—”

“I didn’t realize we were talking about Mitsuhide,” she hums, too innocent, swiping her card in front of the door’s scanner.

“Hey—”

The door swings open, and all his planned protests elide into a heartfelt whistle. “Wow, when they say upgrade, they mean upgrade.”

“I guess so…” The double queen had been just a room with beds, two chairs and a table thrown into a corner to give somewhere else to sit— plenty of room for two people who were used to navigating the same space— but this…this is practically an apartment. The stumpy entryway leads right into the living room, small kitchen to the right and bathroom to the left.

Obi saunters past her, dropping his bag on the sectional— a full couch plus chaise— and hooks his hands on his hips. “Damn. This TV is bigger than ours!”

She clucks her tongue on habit, flushing when his grin. “We’re not here to watch TV.”

“Right, we’re here to get some billionaire to sign off on saving turtles,” he says agreeably, even as he flicks it on, scrolling through the guide. “But while we’re not doing that, I bet this thing gets all the channels. I wonder if HBO still plays porn after midnight…”

“We’re here for a conference,” she reminds him, taking the two steps up to a set of folding doors. “And hopefully finding Eisetsu Rugilia among the attendees.”

“Right, but they don’t have lectures and two am, so—”

“Obi.”

He holds up his hands. “You’re right, Doc. Two am is when all these billionaire babies have their parties. I won’t have time for” — he squints at the text stretching across the screen— “Damon’s Seed when I’m already living my own Eyes Wide Shut.”

She stares at him, blank. “You know I don’t get that reference.”

“I know.” One shoulder lifts; the most aggravating of his shrugs. “It’s funnier that way.”

With anyone else she would let it drop— woodland fairy creature she may be, but she didn’t begrudge her childhood a moment of sunshine— but with Obi she huffs, fitting her fists around the door’s knobs, informing him, “One day I’m going to watch all these movies, and then you’ll have to find some other source of entertainment.”

“Believe it when I see it, Doc. Believe it while I see it.”

“You will. After I finish my thesis, I’ll have plenty of time to”— the doors whip open, a more dramatic entry than she planned, and—

And her whole brain narrows onto a single, “Oh.”

“Wow.” Obi’s breath catches far too close to her ear. “Now that’s some bed. I think we might lose you in the pillows.”

Her jaw works, managing a single, “Um.”

“Oh hey!” Obi peers around the jamb. “Look, there’s more room! That’s pretty…”

He slinks past her, all sinew and swagger, and—

And nearly stumbles, all his words peter down to a “Woah.”

*

“A jacuzzi?” Yuzuri groans, head sinking into her hands. “You guys got a jacuzzi?”

“A jacuzzi tub,” Shirayuki corrects numbly, the stem of her Shirley Temple twisting between her fingers. “Not a…a hot tub or anything.”

“Big enough to be one though.” Obi’s hand brushes over his shoulder, contemplative, before settling back on his drink. “Probably could fit the whole lab in there if we didn’t mind getting cozy.”

Izuru tilts her head. “Oh, like…naked?”

As brazen as Obi can be, even he chokes. “The lab tub party would definitely have a bathing suit dress code.”

“Oh.” She sighs, disinterested. “Disappointing.”

“Where’s my free upgrade?” Yuzuri leans back, head tipping over her chair in despair. “I want a jacuzzi.”

“Maybe one of your hookups will have one, if you’re lucky,” Kazaha drawls, flipping through his copy of the conference directory. It’s not quite phone book sized, but it is intimidating, filled cover-to-cover with people not much older than her but far more accomplished. Only a few hours ago, she might have questioned her place here, whether she would ever contribute enough to the field to even get an abstract in the door, but—

But right now she’s still stuck on the full bathroom, visible from the bed. Except, of course, the toilet. That, thankfully, is tucked away in a smaller closet. But still, shower and tub and bed with nothing but a change in flooring to separate them.

Yuzuri can never know. “I don’t want to take a bath in some guy’s tub! Like god, how would that even be relaxing?”

“The sex could be interesting,” Izuru offers. “Just like a hot tub.”

“No, we’ve been over this!” Yuzuri waves a hand, as if that might be enough to shoo the idea away from the table. “You need preparation for water sex. Lube, for one. A plan, for another. Insurance, since at best you’re going to crack your head open, and at worst, you’ll end up at a gynecologist.”

Suzu blink. “Worst?”

“There are things that can happen to a vag that I’d rather be in a coma for.” She gives Shirayuki a pointed— and completely unnecessary— glance. “Trust me.”

Obi simply raises a brow, sipping from his straw. “You didn’t bring lube?”

“That’s not the point.” Yuzuri rolls her eyes, flicking a ribbon of blonde over her shoulder. “If I’m taking a bath, it’s going to be with bubbles and salts and no less than four jets, all alone.”

“But he could wash your hair.” Suzu’s forehead furrows, oddly concerned. “That’s nice isn’t it? I liked it when then did it at the salon…”

“It is nice, Suzu, but it’s also intimate, and if I’m just looking to— ugh.” Her hands fly up in the air. “Never mind. No jacuzzi sex, end of story. Now what are you going to do about the one bed situation?”

“Y-yuzuri!” Shirayuki sputters, hoping her cheeks are only half as red as they feel. “That’s— that’s not important.”

“I think it’s important,” she hums, smirk wrapping around her straw. “Entertaining, at least.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Obi huffs, settling back in his chair. “There’s enough bed for the population of Luxembourg. Me and Doc could both be on that thing and not be within shouting distance.”

Yuzuri swivels in her seat, glaring at Shirayuki across the table. “It’s so unfair you guys got that room and you’re not even going to f—”

Suzu clears his throat. “Not to state the obvious but…doesn’t this room have a couch or something?”

*

“The program says G7,” Shirayuki murmurs, lingering over the letters printed at the head of each aisle. “Which I think should be down over here, if— Obi, are you all right?”

He might have dogged her heels through the doors of the exhibition hall, but Obi’s lagged behind as she navigates through the field of half-empty tables, only a handful of posters properly displayed. He grunts, adjusting the half dozen canisters on his back. “Well, it is kind of a burn to have Suzu have to remind me couches exist. I mean, I would know, wouldn’t I? Done plenty with only two feet of cushion—”

“I meant with the posters,” she sighs, doubling back to lift a few from his shoulders. “I can’t believe they sent us to set up all of them.”

“I can.” Obi smirks, leaning the rest against the table. “It’s our punishment for getting the best room. And for not— how did Yuzuri put it?— using it to its fullest.”

“W-well, you’d think they’d have a little more professional pride in displaying their work.” The caps on the canisters put up a fight— Shidan had said they might after they came off the plane, something about pressurization and vacuums and other physics concepts she only had a casual acquaintance with through undergrad— but Shirayuki’s happy for the excuse to be doing something when she adds, “You can if you want to, you know.”

One of Obi’s posters pops open with all the subtlety of gunshot. “Uh, want to run that by me again, Doc?”

“I just mean if you wanted to brings someone back and…er…take advantage of all the…amenities…?” She strives to be casual, to be cool, like it’s none of her business what he might get up to unattended. Like she hadn’t bitten her nails clear down to quick under the covers when he was out with Haki’s friend, slinking home well after midnight. “Just let me know.”

“Me?” he coughs. “Really? And just what would you do?”

She shrugs her shoulders, striving for the kind of calm Obi exudes on an everyday basis. “I’m sure Yuzuri wouldn’t mind some company.”

One of his eyebrows creeps to a skeptical altitude. “If she isn’t taking advantage of her own amenities.”

“O-oh, well!” She shakes her head, trying to look anywhere but at him. “She won’t take anyone back to her room, so, uh, that might be even better, if you think about it. Someone using it, at least.”

Air hisses out through his teeth with no hint of his usual humor. “Listen, Doc, really, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not really…” He shakes his head, one hand scrubbing at the bristle in back. “I mean, I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I’m not in the market for…”

He hesitates, eyes narrowing. “Ryuu?”

Shirayuki blinks, tracing his gaze under the table, to where Ryuu is curled up, travel pillow under his head. He shrinks further into his pillbug position, managing a bleak, “Hi.”

“Hey there, big guy.” Obi crouches, folding his arms over his knees casually, like people hang out under tables all the time. “Me and Doc were just out here putting up the posters. What’s up with you.”

“Not much.” He shifts, blue eyes searching both their faces before he admits, “They lost my reservation.”

Shirayuki squats down beside him, brow drawn. “Excuse me?”

“They don’t have a record of my transaction in their database,” he murmurs, rubbing his cheek against the soft microfiber of his pillow. “Even the manager tried. But it looks like even th payment didn’t go through. They think it might be because I’m not— well, an adult is supposed to make the reservation, and I was the only one in the room, and with no legal guardian…”

His nose wrinkles, mouth pursing mulishly before he blurts out, “I don’t know what to do.”

“Stay with us.”

It takes a moment for Shirayuki to realize it’s not her voice saying the words, but Obi’s. He glances at her, and anyone else might be looking for permission, but there’s only confidence there, so certain that she was only a slip of the tongue behind him, that they were single in purpose, and—

And it’s stupid it took her until graduation to realize that this is what she’s been wanting.

“Really?” Ryuu perks, head lifting off the pillow.

“Of course.” Shirayuki knows better than to reach out, to try to comfort him through something as offensive as touch, so she just smiles instead, hoping her sincerity shines through. “We’d be happy to have you.”

He glances between the both of them. “You’re— you’re sure it’s okay?”

“Why not?” Obi says, casting her some rueful side eye. “Now that we know we have a couch, we’re made of room.”

Ah, that’s right. The couch. The couch Obi was going to sleep on…

“Guess it’s a good thing that bed could fit a small country,” Obi mutters, getting to his feet— and then freezing. “Can I help you?”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Shirayuki scramble to her feet, but if the voice isn’t familiar, the man who speak with it is even less so. “You’re part of Shidan Weise’s lab, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” She brushes off her skirt, trying to look somewhat presentable. Like a colleague, instead of someone who spends conferences crouching under tables. “We were just setting up for the poster session. Is there something…?”

“Ah, no, no. I’m not here about the posters.” The man smiles, but it never reaches his eyes. “My name is Shuu Grately. I’m here to tender an invitation.”

Obi’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Invitation?”

“On behalf of Eisetsu Rugilia.” One corner of his mouth hooks, humorless. “He would like you to come to his dinner tonight.”

[milkteamoon]

She wanted to be a cop.

It’s not something that she goes about broadcasting to anyone now; you don’t tell people that you wanted to be a cop if you don’t end up being a cop. It’s just something that you think is cool as a kid, watching all those crime shows with simple, clear-cut villains, and then you grow up and learn that cops aren’t all that the telly made them out to be because there’s no one putting pen to paper on who the bad guys are, so you keep that bit about childhood ignorance to yourself. It’s not like Alice wants to be a cop now, anyway. It’s just something that she thinks about from time to time — what it’d have been like if she didn’t have a bad back from that childhood injury and had chosen a different path, traded in her baton for a gun. Alice doesn’t think she’d like carrying a gun. Too noisy and too messy, from what people who have actually shot one say, and she’s much happier when things are quiet and uncomplicated.

So: Alice Tonner isn’t a cop, even if she may have wanted to be one a long time ago, and that’s fine by her because her current job has unlimited paid leave and her coworkers aren’t too nosy as to get on her bad side. Most of the time she doesn’t see them at all, being the number one choice for night shifts, but they still invite her out to drink even though she never gets drunk, and she still goes along because she doesn’t have anything better to do. Mostly, she just goes along to see Basira. There’s something about her that just intrigues Alice; every time she goes home for the night, she tells herself she ought to talk to Basira more when they aren’t squeezed in some dingy bar, and then she never does. But she’ll do it next time. She just has to remember.

The point is, Alice isn’t a cop, so the email she gets addressed to “Detective Tonner” stands out like a sore thumb in her inbox, to the point that she almost thinks it’s spam.

She’s not even sure why she opens it instead of deleting it immediately. The address doesn’t offer any sort of identifying features — doesn’t even have a name attached to the handle, just “js” with a string of seemingly random numbers behind it, and c’mon now, Alice isn’t stupid. She did all that pain-in-the-ass phishing training when she got hired, and if this is one of those “exercises” her boss thinks will teach his employees the dangers of technology when all it really does is just royally piss everyone off, then it’s doing a very, very poor job at it.

But it doesn’t seem like that, is the thing. There are no links, no flashing lights. No strange fonts or misspellings or promiscuous language. There’s not even the promise of millions from a nigerian prince if only she’ll send her credit card information — it’s just...a letter. Addressed to one Detective Tonner. Asking if she’s available for work, and offering to pay for her time, and apologizing for wasting it if she isn’t. It’s not like Alice isn’t a stranger to freelance work, dealing security at some rich tosser’s birthday party or standing outside a concert for six hours just to make sure no one decides to climb the fence. Simple work. Straightforward. Most of the time, the job is easy and the pay is good. Most of the time, she takes the check without asking questions.

This doesn’t feel like most of the time.

...She really should delete it.

So instead, she goes to her fridge, grabs a beer, and then replies, asking where to meet.

Funnily enough, the mysterious stranger decides on a bar.

It’s a bar that Alice knows even. Sorta. The owner, Calvin Benchley, is a boy she went to school with, though she doesn’t think he’d remember her all those years later. Probably for the best, if she’s being honest with herself. Always was a bit of an arsehole.

There’s only a handful of people inside when she arrives  — easy enough to pick through, if needed  — though the stranger she’s looking for zeros in on her immediately. In fact, she’d reckon that she frightened him, the way he’d jumped up when he’d seen her. Looked just like he’d seen a ghost as he looked her over from head to toe, then shuffled out from the booth he’d been seated at. Meandered over with his hands close to his chest. Looked up at her with these big, wide eyes that look more like a sad animal’s than a man’s, and hell, Alice almost feels bad about the way she towers over him. Like he didn’t even get a chance, as scrawny as he is.

“D— er, Miss Tonner?”

“That’s me,” Alice tells him, “though Alice is just fine.”

The man nods, wrings his hands together, then sticks one out in a belated sense of politeness. “J-Jonathan. Jon. Uh, Sims. Just Jon is fine.”

“Pleasure to meet you, ‘just Jon,’” she says wryly as she takes his hand. The texture of his palm is strange, she notices, and glancing down she can see that it’s scarred over. Huh.

The nervous energy flitting around him eases slightly at this, and he even manages the smallest of smiles beneath all that painted-on worry. “Right,” he says softly, then clears his throat, and repeats louder, “Right. Shall we sit down then?”

Alice shrugs, but doesn’t argue as he leads her back to the booth.

The thing is, once she settles in and gets a proper look at her date, Alice realizes he’s nothing like she had expected him to be. Something about the bar being in Chelsea had her picturing an old bastard in a stuffy sweater vest and dress pants — in truth, Jon’s wearing jeans and draped in a jumper about two sizes too big for him that can’t possibly be his own. His hair is long and braided, looking as if it took the brunt of the morning’s humidity, and while the hand had been the first abnormality to notice, she now can see that his skin is peppered in small, circular pockmarks, spread in clusters all over. Not like acne, exactly, more like cigarette burns. They don’t fit him at all, she thinks to herself.

“Would you like a drink?” he finally asks once he’s squirmed enough under her scrutiny.

Alice half shrugs, half nods. It’s only noon, but she doesn’t have to work until nine. “Sure. Get me—”

Jon’s already risen and wandered over to the bar before she can finish, and a moment later he returns with a beer for her and a glass of water for himself. The strange thing is, it’s the brand she typically drinks anyway. The even stranger thing is, Jon doesn’t seem to find this strange at all.

“...Right,” Alice says as she takes it from him. The lid pops off with barely a flick of her thumb. “So then. Business.”

“Business,” he echoes.

“What kind of gig are we looking at then? Office party? Concert? I don’t really like dealing with things that are too private, so—”

"What?" Jon cuts her off, brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "It's— I didn't contact you about a security job."

That makes Alice pause. She stares down the neck of her bottle at him, trying hard to parse his tone. If he’s cracking a joke. Jon doesn’t look like the type of guy to make jokes, if she’s being realistic, but if not a security job, then what? Something that requires knowledge of one? "...No?"

"No," he says agreeably. And then he takes a long sip of his water and says, "I lost someone recently."

“Oh,” Alice replies. She doesn’t know quite what to say to that, but the sense of finality is so palpable that all she can think to respond with is, “Sorry.”

"O-oh, no he isn't— ah. Well, thank you," Jon ends up settling on, smiling at her in a way that feels as if he's the one consoling her. “I um. See, the reason I contact you is...I’d like your help in finding him.”

Alice blinks. That is...not what she’d been expecting. Slowly, as if the moment might crack like an egg at any misstep, she asks, “Find...him?”

“Um. Yes.”

“You...do realize I work security, right?”

Jon flushes. “W-well, yes, I know, I’ve seen your work history — um, very impressive, by the way — I just thought...”

“You’ve seen my work history?” Alice asks, face neutral. She sets down her bottle as softly as possible. “Where?”

“It...was on your employer’s website.”

“And I take it that’s where you found my email?”

“...Y-yes.”

Liar, Alice thinks, and a poor one at that. She knows her personal email isn’t listed anywhere online, and that’d been the one that he contacted her with. Enough of a lead to snag him with, surely. but she sets aside as she presses on.

“So this,” she begins slowly, folding her hands in front of her, “‘person,’ you’re looking for—”

“Martin,” Jon supplies. “Martin Blackwood.”

“He’s...what to you? Friend? Family?”

Jon’s mouth twitches into a mournful sort of smile. “My partner.”

“Hm.” She nods. “Lover’s quarrel drove him off?”

Jon laughs a little, and Alice catches another scar in the light, just across his neck as his adam’s apple bobs. Deeper than the rest, she reckons by the color. Cleaner too. Like it was intentional. “If only it were that simple.”

“So why not go to the police?” she asks, genuinely, “or hell, even a P.I. Seems like you have a case for a missing person.”

Jon swallows visibly, shifting in his seat. “Ah—” he starts, “we, er, w-we were sort of living off grid...”

“Huh. Legal troubles?”

“Not...not quite legal.”

“You don’t so sure.”

Jon snorts at this. “I’m not sure of much of anything around here, to be honest,” he explains. “I-I mean I know he’s...he’s here, somewhere— i-in the U.K., at least, but it’s...difficult to see clearly here. Suppose it’s to be expected...”

Alice glances up at the tacky light fixture overhead, a horrid myriad of colored glass that was probably the cheapest in the catalogue. She isn’t exactly sure what he means by that; it seems bright enough for her, anyway. Passively, she chooses to ignore the comment.

“So you lose your boyfriend, you can’t go to the police, so you hire...a security guard to find him?” Alice muses, not maliciously, just trying to put things together. Trying to find the line of thought in a seemingly random string of actions.

Jon winces, grimacing as he sinks back into the booth’s fake leather. “Well, I guess it does sound pretty terrible when you put it like that.”

That barks a laugh out of her. She’s not exactly sure why. In the half hour she’s known him, Alice can say that Jon Sims is definitely one of the shadier men she’s met in her line of work — and she’s met plenty of corporate arseholes who spend their breaks doing coke in the company bathrooms — but there’s something about him that she finds awfully...genuine? Candid, she supposes. Endearing, even. Maybe it’s just part of getting old. Maybe she’s just going soft.

Alice takes a sip of her beer, then nods to his folded hands. “What happened to your hand?”

“What?” he asks, brow furrowing before following her gaze down to the spider-webbing scar that wraps around his palm. “Oh. The scar?”

“Yeah.”

“It...um, a wax burn.”

“And...” she gestures to the side of her face in a mirror of where the little circles are heavily clustered on his own, “this?”

He looks at her sheepishly. “Uh...worms?”

“Wh— worms?” she repeats, the bafflement bleeding past her composure into her tone.

“Lots of worms,” Jon agrees, and she gets the feeling that she’s not going to get much more of an answer than that.

“...Right,” she says, swirls her drink, and then— “What about your neck?”

That seems to be where she finally finds the nerve.

Because as soon as she asks, Jon winces, hand reaching up to the line across his throat. Covering it, possibly, as if he doesn’t want her to see. Protecting it, maybe, like she’s going to cut it back open. He opens his mouth slowly, then closes it. Opens it again as he fishes for words. There’s a line there, Alice recognizes, that she’s in danger of stepping over — maybe she should pull back. 

She doesn’t want to pull back.

“...Pocket knife,” he finally says, barely above a whisper.

It’s not really an answer, if she’s being honest with herself. Alice decides against pressing further.

Instead, she looks to her bottle and swirls it around. She takes in the sounds of the bar around her — the soft chatter between bartender and patron across the room, the low television hum, the fan ticking above. Jon breathes in, and breathes out. And then he doesn’t breathe anymore. She counts in her head, just how long he holds it, until she loses count and has to start again.

“You know,” she starts slowly, finding his gaze on her hands, “I’m not a detective.”

Jon frowns like she’s saying something trivial. “I know.”

“Or much of a hunter, really.”

“I...yes, I know.”

“Sims,” she begins. That draws his full attention. Good. She can see his eyes better, like this. They’re brown with just the faintest hint of green around the rim, in a way that reminds her of colored contacts; though, something tells her that isn’t the case. “I don’t think I’m the man for your job.”

He’s already small, seated with his shoulders hunched in over him, but she can still see him deflate at the statement. The disappointment as it flickers across his face. The way his mouth twitches and quivers as he swallows, painfully, and he nods before moving to stand, to get away from his discomfort. “R-right. Right. I’m sorry, I don’t know why— I’m wasting your time, I’m very sorry. I’ll—”

“Sit—” Alice snags his arm, giving him a yank back into the booth, “down.”

Jon sits without another word. She’ll give him credit — at least he’s obedient.

Alice downs the rest of her bottle, watching him closely. 

Here’s the thing: despite his timid voice, his skittish nature, his eyes that never seem to quite meet her own, Alice Tonner knows without a doubt is that Jonathan Sims is not prey. That much is obvious. Call it intuition. Alice knows the type and she know how to deal with them, and she could easily put the strange little man sitting adjacent from her in his place with one quick motion, if she cared to.

She isn’t going to, though.

Because the fact that he’s out here asking someone else to hunt for him? Now, that’s the part that she finds interesting. That’s the part she desperately wants to learn more about. She is going to learn more about it, one way or another.

“I think,” she begins, leaning onto her crossed forearms, “that I’m going to give you two options. The first is that you can get up and leave. Get out of my sight, and never contact me again.”

Jon flinches at this. He chews his chapped lip. “...and the second?”

Alice feels a smile tugging at her lips. “The second is that you tell me your story, and I sit here and listen. And then once I say you’re finished, I’ll tell you what I think.”

That gives him pause, clearly taken aback.

“...Everything?” he asks softly after a long moment of thought. She can see the gears in his head spinning. She so desperately wants to stick her fingers in between them.

“From the very beginning,” she answers.

Jon heaves a breath, like he’s just remembering how to, and nods. “Right,” he agrees quietly, to himself, “from the very beginning.”

Alice watches as he picks up his glass, takes a long drink, and then proceeds to tell her everything.