#she is so appalled whenever anyone makes a dick joke or that’s what she said or Anything similar

[butch-himbo-king]

why does my mom have a boner bill in her car?????

[thanks-captain-obvious]

So here is the continuation of my Daminette hc since it seems that no one really like to stop me.

No. The Batfam did not abandon Marinette suddenly because of seemingly questionable reaction to fear toxin. But more on that later.

So as I was saying, Robin is acting really weird during patrol and the Batfam couldn't help but notice.

But who could blame him when it really bothers him? Marinette seems so always cool and collected. Always moving with grace and with purpose.

But that Marinette that he saw? The Marinette who cries in her sleep. That is not the Marinette he knew. And it bothers him.

He chalked it up to a reluctant sibling feeling on his side and dare he say it, he's already warming up to Marinette.

Marinette just seems—invicible. Just like his mother.

Cool. Calm. Collected.

How wrong he was

Why would she cry?

Anyway, Batfam decided its Dicky bird that will talk to Damian by the end of patrol because nothing has bothered their youngest this much since Talia.

But Robin easily evaded Dick's concern by saying he's tired.

So now, the Batfam has two dillemas. Namely— Damian and Marinette.

Anyway, Damian decided to watch Marinette closely the next day.

Marinette is her usual, sunny self. Smiling kindly at everyone, bonding with Alfred in the kitchen, playing UMS with Tim or just watching Jason lift weights in the gym.

It may seem like a dickish move but Damian deliberately spilled coffee on Marinette's sketches just to rile up Marinette.

Jason is so ready to shoot him right then and there. After all, it was only recently that Marinette started designing clothes again.

And it may be worth it after all. Because Damian saw it.

For a split second, Marinette's eyes had misted over it like she is about to cry. In fact, if Damian isn't watching really, really close, he would miss it.

It quickly change over into something unreadable before her eyes settles into those calm sapphires once again.

And so for the next few days, Damian will try to provoke Marinette over and over again.

To no avail.

Meanwhile, Dick tried to talk him again. Of course, he dismissed the concern easily by saying he got it handled.

Anyway, Bruce will finally had enough of Damian's obvious attempts at provoking Marinette so he will talk to his son about it.

But before he could let a word out, Tim will rush into the study and blurt out two words that will instantly make both of them pale.

She knows

During dinner with Cass and Steph in the Manor(they wanted to meet their new sister), the Bats will address the elephant in the room.

Marinette will then explain how she find it odd that Bruce offered to adopt her just after she mentioned to Batman that she is an orphan.

She then will tell them all about herself (minus being Ladybug) and say that she will kept all their secrets and there is no need to worry.

Marinette will also explain how she deleted her data on the internet and steal all her school records in Paris before burning them off.

She explained when she went to Gotham, she wanted to start over.

Tim is impressed with all that of course. But one question remains, how are you immune to fear toxin?

Which Marinette answered happily and she narrated all about Hawkmoth and his reign. Living under Hawkmoth had enabled her to control her emotions not just on surface level.

Bruce expressed his concerns if she had been akumatized.

Marinette smiled graciously and said no and kept it at that.

Batfam is appaled to learn that something of this magnitude happened to Paris under their noses without anyone noticing.

Alfeed then stepped in and expressed that Marinette needs her rest now.

But in the midst of all that, something still nags at Damian.

Why come to Gotham? Another city full of terror.

The answer came to him when Damian got hostaged by the Joker.

She is Ladybug, the hero that once protected Paris.

He realized this when Marinette easily managed to save him single-handedly through some convoluted plan.

Ladybug's trademark and way of defeating akuma, if what Tim had managed to unearth about Ladybug is true.

And while he may not have Tim's genius mind, Damian is not the son of the greatest detective for nothing.

Of course he managed to put two and two together.

So Damian confronted Marinette about it much later.

It was then that Marinette completely opened herself up.

And to him nonetheless!

Marinette told him how she got her Miraculous— the thing that gives her powers, about her partner, about Hawkmoth, about everything that lead up to the confrontation against Hawkmoth and how she is too late to save her parents.

And how, every single day, she tortures herself of what could have been.

And so she explained that the fear toxin did not much do anything to her because she is, in fact, already living in her nightmare every single day— her parents dying because she had been too careless.

No matter how much Damian tried to tell her its not her fault, to Marinette, everything had been her fault.

After that conversation, Damian and Marinette had been closer.

Everybody in the Manor noticed of course. Damian and Marinette would spend hours alone sketching and walking around Gotham. Or just plain talking.

Damian would also sometimes spar with Marinette to train her knowing that she defeated a supervillain before without any semblance of training, what more if she had mentor who actually teach her how to fight?

Dick, as usual, had been the first one to confront Damian about the pair's newfound closeness. But Damian just rolled his eyes and say that he realized that she is more tolerable than any of you combined.

Then, Bruce, Tim, Jason, Steph.

It was only Cass that actually managed to get something out of Damian.

"She is so much more than meets the eye." He said.

After that, the Batfam contentedly accept the situation, even if the obvious inside jokes are a bit unnerving, to say the least.

I mean, Damian is smiling and joking around with her.

And where even the nickname "Little Lady" had come from?

Everything is sunshine and rainbows until Marinette received a call one day. A call from one Adrien Agreste.

Damian recognized the name and immediately rushed out to defend Marinette. Adrien Agreste, Gabriel Agreste's son.

He is so sure that Adrien is here to take revenge on Marinette for his father.

Only to be surprised by Marinette's squeal of excitement upon seeing the blonde.

Marinette rushed out to the bottom of the stairs and into Adrien Agreste's arms.

For some reason, seeing Marinette hugging Adrien tightly made him want to kill the bastard more.

Cass saw Damian's reaction and squinted her eyes at his brother.

Anyway, their hug is interrupted by Damian clearing his throat.

When Marinette looked at him, she gave him a sheepish smile and a look that says "Later"

Everyone welcomed Adrien and offered to have him stay for a week after Marinette said that he is a dear friend from Paris. Adrien easily agreed and the two went off with Alfred to sort out the room Adrien will stay in.

Meanwhile, Tim saw Damian's dirty look at the blonde and his tight grip at his cutlery. Cass caught his eyes and mentally confirmed what he just saw.

Cass gave a subtle nod at that.

Smirking, Tim took a gulp from his coffee.

For a few days, Marinette will tour Adrien around the City while Damian will sulk at his room. Whenever Marinette and Adrien is around, Damian will always snap irritably at the two of them. This will result at Bruce scolding Damian.

Damian, being the brat that he is, will leave the table.

Marinette will confront Damian one night and explained that Adrien is Chat Noir and a dear friend of her and for Damian to act nice around him.

Damian will say he already knows by seeing how the blonde is being as bratty as his superhero namesake.

Marinette slapped him before promptly leaving the room.

On the other hand, Marinette and Adrien will finally have the Talk.

Adrien will reveal that he is in the process of being adopted by Amelia and Marinette will likewise admit that Bruce is in the process of adopting her.

Adrien will then give her a chuckle and say: I don't know about that, Bugaboo. One of your "brothers" seems like he will be against the idea.

When Marinette demanded what he meant, he simply gave her a wide chesire grin.

And there it is! Another one of my cringe-worthy Daminette hc. Let me know if you want me to stop or you are so bored you have nothing to read anymore aside my cringy Daminette ideas.

Part 1 • Here • Part 3

Taglist:

@loysydark @eliza-bich @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @iwritelikeimrunningoutoftime @goblinwhoships @amayakans

@pawsitivelymiraculous @i-am-ironic @emilytopaz

Edit: added the links.

[takemeawaytocamelot]

Voices Matter

Okay. This will be a pretty personal post, and maybe a bit long. Feel free  to skip along.

You may or may not be aware that until June of 2019, I had been a delivery driver for a national auto parts chain. Being a young woman in her mid to late 20′s, it was a good job that worked around my school schedule. The downside was working with mechanics. As a whole, they��re an odd bunch. The vast majority of them haven’t matured past 13 or 14 year old boys, so they make a lot of dick jokes. I got a lot of ‘nice rack’ or ‘sorry about my dirty shaft’ jokes too. For the most part, they rolled off my back because after a while, you learn to ignore it. 

One particular shop, however, couldn’t be ignored. It was a small shop owned and run by one guy. Creepy Dave. Now, one thing you should know about me, I’m not a touchy feely person. I don’t typically enjoy physical touch, but with the right people I can do what they need me to do. That being said, I obviously don’t like people invading my personal bubble either.

This is where Creepy Dave comes in. Everyone at the store, both drivers and the guys at the counter, called him Creepy Dave. He’s that creepy. He would regularly do the ‘accidental boob graze’, or some how find a way to touch your hand when taking his invoice from you. He also did the ‘you should smile more’ on a regular basis. This man made every single woman (except for the lady who was in her 60′s) uncomfortable. When I trained new drivers, I had to teach them how to deal with Creepy Dave. Why you ask? Let me tell you.

His behavior was not good, it made everyone uncomfortable and we hated delivering to him. So we’d go to our bosses, who were the store owners, and their response was this: we’ll talk to him.

Talk. To. Him.

That’s it. Because Creepy Dave spent a lot of money at the store, and always paid his bill on time, he was allowed to harass the female employees. Whenever he got a “talking to”, he’d behave for about a week, but then go right back to it. Eventually, we stopped complaining because it didn’t do any good.

Fast forward to about 4 weeks ago. In the years between Creepy Dave and starting my new job at a grocery store, I’ve been in counseling for suffering a sexual trauma when I was very young. I’ve done a lot of healing and a lot of growth since then.

Now, Creepy Dave figured out where I worked. I’ve seen him in my store a few times, always a little... uncomfortable. One evening, I was in the front lobby disinfecting carts and baskets when he walked in. I’m holding a spray bottle and rag with nowhere to run and no counter between me and Creepy Dave. He walks in, stops, looks at me and smiles. That creepy smarmy smile. You know the one. And he says to me, “you gonna spray me down?” or something to that effect. I straight up said No. Because ew. To which his response is “You sure you don't wanna spray me off?”

In what universe is it okay to say that!? I MEAN REALLY??!

So, given my history with Creepy Dave, I don’t really tell anyone about it. He’s just creepy and there’s never consequences. Except... I don’t work at the auto parts store anymore.

Creepy Dave comes into the store again a few days later and I see him. He doesn’t see me. This time, I’m behind the counter in the bakery area and my manager is there. So I pull her aside quickly and ask if she’d be willing to deal with him because he makes me uncomfortable. (Side note about my manager. She’s amazing and I love her. She’s incredibly protective over her staff and she doesn’t take crap from anyone. She’s what I call a safe person that you just feel comfortable with.) She says of course she’ll deal with the creepy old man.

Once he leaves, she asks for an explanation. I give her the whole story, including what he’d said to me in the store lobby. She’s appalled. She asks me to write down, in as much detail as I remember, what happened and we’ll take it upstairs to our store manager so there can be documentation about the incident. I do and she runs the note upstairs. A few minutes later, she comes back and says Chris would like to see me. I felt like I was going to get in trouble, though I’d done nothing wrong.

I go upstairs and talk to Chris, explaining my history with Creepy Dave and everything. The response I got nearly had me in tears. “When you see him again, call for a manager and we’ll explain to him that it isn’t ok to talk to my employees like that. And if he does anything like that ever again, I’ll kick him out of my store. Don’t worry, Sam. We’ll pick up where your previous job failed.”

I was so conditioned to accept Creepy Dave’s behavior that it honestly never occurred to me to make a report. Nothing was ever done before and my level of discomfort never mattered. Until it did.

The reason I’m writing all this out is for you. Whoever you are, whatever your situation, you needed to see this. You needed someone to tell you that your voice matters. YOU matter. Inappropriate behavior in the workplace, whether from a coworker or a customer, isn’t okay. Actions have consequences. 

Let me say that one more time.

YOUR

VOICE

MATTERS

Don’t let something continue because it’s been allowed to continue before. Speak up and protect yourself. You’re worth protecting and are worthy of protecting. If the people around you don’t support you, find new people.

[terriblelifechoices]

With so many kids in the Graves brood, do people ever confuse them for each other?

Hi Anon, I’m really sorry it’s taken me this long to answer this.  But yes!  People do this ALL THE TIME.  (I mean, I’ve only got the one sibling, and the litany of names things still happens.  Honestly, I think the weirdest and most unbelievable part of Harry Potter is that no professor ever looks at Ron and goes “Bill-Charlie-George- RON!” because that is life with siblings.)

This wanders pretty much all over the Timeline.  But, Seven Times someone mistakes the Graves Brood for the wrong Graves.

Dagonet

The problem, Dag reflected, was not that his siblings had something of a reputation at Ilvermorny.

No, the problem was that he had too many of them.

“Damnit, Galahad!” said Professor Beauchamp.  He seemed to realize that he had the wrong Graves a second later.  “Gareth-Lucan.  Dagonet!”

Well, at least he got there in the end, thought Dag.  He wondered what, exactly, Galahad had done to Professor Beauchamp, that it had left such a lasting impact well over a decade later.

On second thought, Dag really didn’t want to know.

“Sorry, sir,” said Dag.

Professor Beauchamp blinked.  He always looked faintly surprised whenever Dag apologized.  Dag had no idea what sibling that was a legacy of.  None of them were very good at backing down, even when they should have.

It was probably Gawain.  Or Lucan.  Or even Lyo, who was very argumentative for a Pukwudgie.

“Just – be more careful in the future, please,” Professor Beauchamp said weakly.

“Yes, sir,” Dag said.  “I will.  Thank you.”

Professor Beauchamp gave him a suspicious look, as though he suspected Dag were being sarcastic.

That had to be Ollie, Dag thought.  Or Gareth.

He sighed.  “May I be excused, sir?”

Professor Beauchamp waved a hand.  “Yes, yes,” he said, looking exhausted by Dag’s existence.  Or maybe it was the existence of Graves’ in general.  “Go.”

Dag went.

Lyonesse

“Oh,” said Camille Fontaine.  “A Graves.  Which one are you?”

Lyo stared at her in outrage.  “What do you mean, which one am I?”

Camille waved a dismissive hand.  “I can’t keep track,” she said.  “There’s so many of you.”

Lyo felt that anyone whose family tree resembled something more like a small orchard did not exactly have room to throw stones in this regard.  Particularly not when said orchard had been planted on the fields of crazy and watered by the rivers of melodrama.  Saying so would probably be rude, though.  Papa took a very dim view of rudeness, even if the other person had been rude first.

“Well,” she said.  “Seeing as there are only three of us girls, and I’m not older than you, I am obviously not Olwen.  And you’d know I wasn’t Elaine if you’d ever met her, so by the simple process of elimination, I must be the youngest.”

Camille stared at her.  One eyebrow went up, imperious.  “If you are not Olwen or Elaine, you must be…”

Lyo could do the one eyebrow raised trick, too.  No one did imperiously raised eyebrows like Auntie Seraphina.  She returned the favor with interest and said, in her best Polite Society Manners voice, “I suppose I must be Lyonesse,” she said.  “And you are?”

Camille looked briefly taken aback.  Then she laughed.  “I deserved that,” she said, holding out her hand for Lyo to shake.  “Camille Fontaine.”

“Lyonesse Graves.  Call me Lyo.”

“Lyo,” said Camille.  She smiled.  It was a small, secretive sort of smile, nothing at all like the usual Fontaine grin.

Of course, Lyo wasn’t much like the usual Graves’ either.  She didn’t think there’d ever been a Graves in Pukwudgie before her.

“I like you,” Camille decided.  “We should stick together.”

Lyo gave her a suspicious look.  “Because we’re both descended from one of the Twelve?”

Camille rolled her eyes.  “Because we’re both Pukwudgies,” she said.  “Pukwudgie solidarity.”

Lyo thought about that.  After a moment, she stuck her hand out.

Camille shook it.

Lucan and Gareth

Gareth skidded around the corner, nearly bowling over a cluster of seventh years.  He dodged the stinging hex Blanche Resnick threw at his back on instinct, making a beeline for Lucan.

Lucan sighed, already shrugging out of his uniform jacket.  “What did you do?” he asked.

“Nothing!” Gareth stripped out of his jacket and crumpled it into a ball.  “Can you –” he gestured at Lucan’s hair.

Lucan obligingly rumpled his hair until it looked like he’d been running.  He eyed his twin.  Good enough to pass, he thought, snatching up both their jackets before Gareth could banish them.  Gareth was very good at disposing of the evidence, but his ability to recover the things he’d banished was hit or miss.  If one more set of jackets – and their identifying Ilvermorny House crests – went missing, Papa said that they were going to have to learn to make new ones to wear, because he wasn’t replacing them again.  Lucan believed him.  Papa didn’t joke about things like that.

Lucan ripped both of the House crests off and shoved them in his pocket, thinking that they were probably going to have to learn to sew anyway at this rate.

Gareth slowed his breathing until it matched Lucan’s, and both of them turned when Adam Bridgerton thundered around the corner.

“Damnit, Graves,” he said.  “Detention!”

Gareth widened his eyes.  “Detention?”  He rounded on Lucan, shoving him.  “What did you do?” he asked, echoing Lucan’s earlier question.

“Me?” asked Lucan.  “What did you do?”

“I will put both of you in detention,” Bridgerton threatened.

“That’s not fair,” Gareth and Lucan said automatically, speaking in unison.

“Why should I have detention for something Gareth did?” Lucan asked.

“Hey!  Don’t try to get out of this by pretending to be me.  You’re not Lucan, I’m Lucan,” said Gareth.

Bridgerton made a face.  “I hate it when you do this,” he said.

Lucan suppressed a grin.  That was half the reason they did it.

The other half was that Bridgerton really ought to have known better by now.  Bridgerton was two years ahead of them, but he was in Thunderbird the same as Gareth.  He ought to have found some way to tell the two of them apart.

Bridgerton pointed at them.  “Normally, I would try to be fair and only punish the Graves responsible.  But since you’re both little shits and I’m tired of playing this game, I have decided to stop being fair.”

Lucan did not have a good feeling about where that was going.  He suspected Gareth didn’t either, based off his equally appalled expression.

Bridgerton beamed at both of them.  “Detention,” he said.  “Two nights worth – one for each of you.  Enjoy!”

Lucan resisted the urge to sigh, because sighing would give away the charade.  It would take more than detention to get him to turn on his twin.  They were Graves’.  There was nothing they couldn’t fight, as long as they faced it together.

That didn’t stop him from wanting to punch his brother in the head, though.

“Oops?” said Gareth.

Lucan considered his options.  They were already in trouble.  What was a bit more?

“You’re such a dick,” he said, and punched his twin in the head.

The bruises from the resulting scuffle made it easy to identify both of them for the next three weeks.

It was worth it.

Elaine

“Well done, G – Graves,” said Professor Kipling.  “Miss Graves,” he amended a second later.

Elaine squinted at him.  Professor Kipling had never show the slightest hint of a stutter before now.  She suspected that Graves had not been what he’d originally intended to call her, if his hasty correction was any indicator.

Well.  Dad and Papa had gone a bit heavy on the ‘g’ names.  And she could hardly blame the dueling instructor for getting her confused with her siblings, given that they all had Dad’s knack for wandless, wordless spellcasting.  Professor Kipling had probably gotten her confused with Galahad or Gawain, since no one in their right mind would ever confuse her for Olwen.  Olwen was scary good with her wand, and that sort of thing tended to leave an impression.  (Elaine wasn’t entirely certain how Professor Kipling had gotten her confused with her brothers, who were both older, taller and also the opposite gender, but some people focused more on magical technique than they did on faces.  Her cousin Arthur was pretty much exhibit A for that sort of thing.)

“Thank you, sir,” she said politely, and Professor Kipling moved on.

Elaine had no idea why the professors had so much trouble keeping her and her siblings straight.  It was obvious that they were related, but it wasn’t like they were identical, or anything.  (Gareth and Lucan didn’t count.  Although Elaine had never really understood why they were considered identical either.  She had no trouble telling the two of them apart, and neither did anyone else in the family.)

“Part of it’s blood,” Uncle Marco explained later.  “You do bear a certain family resemblance.  Part of it’s talent.  You Graves’ are … hm.”  He considered his words carefully.  Uncle Marco wasn’t a man of hasty words.  “Magically distinctive,” he said at last.  “You stand out from the rest of us, but you’re all very much like each other.”

Elaine frowned.  She didn’t have Gawain or Papa’s magical sensitivity, but she was pretty sure that everyone’s magic felt different.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Uncle Marco advised.  “It’s not your fault other people are idiots.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to tell me other grown-up’s are idiots,” Elaine said.

“Who said I was only talking about the grown-up’s?” asked Uncle Marco.  “Other kids are idiots, too.”

That was a lot harder to disagree with, honestly.

“I know it’s frustrating,” Uncle Marco said kindly. ��“Especially since your instructors ought to at least be able to tell you apart based on age.”

“I don’t mind,” Elaine said, because she didn’t.

“Good,” said Uncle Marco.  “People are always going to be idiots.  And there are advantages, to visibly belonging to a particular family.”

“What kind of advantages?” Elaine asked.  She liked Uncle Marco’s lessons.  They were like Aunt Seraphina’s political lessons, but sneakier.  Which was saying something, because Aunt Seraphina’s lessons were pretty sneaky to begin with.

Uncle Marco gave her his, you figure it out look.

Elaine thought about it.  “Is this a Graves of MACUSA thing?” she asked.  People made a really big deal about that sort of thing.  Elaine didn’t really understand it.  She’d tried asking Galahad once, and he’d gotten all weird.  His explanation hadn’t made much sense, either.

“Not entirely,” said Uncle Marco.  Then, patiently, he said, “The Graves’ aren’t the only family among the Twelve who serve MACUSA, you know.  And there are a few that even a Graves of MACUSA would hesitate to cross.”

Elaine gave him a skeptical look.  Neither of her parents were scared of anything, much less other wizards.

“There’s the Jauncey’s,” Elaine said aloud, working through the problem in her head.  “Like Headmaster Jauncey.  And the Weiss’.”  The puzzle pieces abruptly clicked into place.  Elaine felt silly for not realizing it sooner.  “You mean the Fontaine’s,” she said triumphantly.

Uncle Marco inclined his head.  “Just so,” he said.

The Fontaine’s were the single most prolific family among the Twelve.  Most of them were ordinary wizards, the same as anyone else, but Elaine was pretty sure that if Roland Fontaine ever summoned his kin on MACUSA’s behalf, the entirety of House Fontaine would answer, just like House Graves would have answered Dad.  That was what it meant to be descended from one of the original Twelve Aurors.

Dad said most of the Fontaine’s were crazy, but ultimately harmless.  Every once in awhile, though, you got one who was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag.  The particular brand of crazy varied from Fontaine to Fontaine.  Sometimes it was violent crazy, sometimes it was magic crazy, and sometimes it was explosive crazy.  Either way, it was better just to steer clear.

And since there were so many Fontaine’s, you never knew if you were getting the garden variety crazy or one of the worrying ones, so most wizards decided to back off whenever a Fontaine got that gleam in their eyes.

“Huh,” said Elaine.  Nobody messed with the Fontaine’s because there were lots of them, and they all had a reputation.

What could the Graves’ do?

She grinned.  It would be fun to find out.

Gawain

“Galahad!” a girl called from behind him.  

Gawain turned.  He’d discovered, roughly three weeks into his first year at Ilvermorny, that half the time someone was calling for one of his siblings they were actually addressing him.

“Gawain, actually,” he corrected.

The girl looked briefly embarrassed, a pink flush rising over her cheeks.  “Oh,” she said.  “Sorry, little Graves,” she said.

Gawain shrugged and turned back to his conversation with Stefan Fuchs.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” Stefan asked, an odd look on his face.

“Doesn’t what bother me?” Gawain asked, wondering why Stefan was looking at him like that.

“Always being mistaken for your brother,” Stefan said.

Gawain shrugged again.  “Not really,” he admitted.  He’d never really thought about it, so it had never occurred to him to mind.

“I mean, your brother’s –” Stefan made a vague hand gesture that Gawain thought was meant to encompass Galahad’s essential Galahadness: his power and his drive and terrifying devotion to duty.  “And you’re –”

“Not?” Gawain suggested, when words appeared to fail Stefan.

Stefan looked embarrassed.   “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Gawain bumped his shoulder, to show that there were no hard feelings.  “Yeah, I know.”  He knew he wasn’t as strong as Galahad, but he also didn’t want to be.  If he was as magically powerful as Galahad, everyone would want him to be an Auror, too.

“Does it bother you?” he asked.  Stefan’s older brother Karl was a year or so older than Galahad.  He was a natural-born Legilimens, like Aunt Queenie.  Stefan wasn’t.  Which wasn’t that big a deal – Legilimency, like Occlumency, could be learned – but Gawain suspected it bothered Stefan a lot.

“Sometimes,” Stefan admitted.  “It’s just hard, being second all the time.  Second born and second best,” he intoned.

The words had the feel of an often-repeated refrain.  They put a sick feeling in Gawain’s gut.  No one in his family would’ve dared to say something like that to him or Ollie.  They weren’t less just because they’d been born later, or because they weren’t as strong.  (Well, he wasn’t as strong.  Olwen was scary fast with her wand to compensate for not being quite as powerful as Galahad.  In another decade, Gawain was pretty sure his big sister was going to be unstoppable.)

“Who said that?” Gawain asked, low and angry.

Stefan looked startled.  “No one,” he lied.  Pretty badly.  Gawain would have been able to tell even without Dad’s lessons on how to spot lies.

“You’re a terrible liar,” said Gawain.  “C’mon.  Tell me.”

“Karl,” Stefan admitted.

Gawain muttered something under his breath that would’ve made Papa wash his mouth out with soap.  Stefan looked equal parts impressed and appalled.

“It’s nothing,” Stefan said.  “Forget I said anything.”

“Yeah, no,” said Gawain.  “Your brother’s an asshole.”  Inspiration struck him.  “You can borrow mine,” he decided.  Galahad wouldn’t mind another little brother.  They already had so many, what was one more?

“I don’t think it works like that,” said Stefan.

“It does in my family,” Gawain said cheerfully.  Aunt Tina and Aunt Queenie were Papa’s adopted sisters.  Aunt Dorothy, too, for all that they shared none of the same blood.  And they’d all grown up with Sam and Peter, who were more like siblings than cousins.

Well.  Maybe not Sam, who was going to marry into the family if Galahad could ever find his brain around her, but Peter was totally an adopted brother.

“Okay,” said Stefan, clearly humoring the crazy person.

Gawain grinned at him.  He’d learn.

Olwen

“I need a favor,” Elaine said, wearing the vulpine little smile most of the Congress and half of the Senate found pants-shittingly terrifying.

“No,” Olwen said immediately, not looking up from her paperwork.  She didn’t need to look up to know that Elaine was still smiling at her, undaunted by Olwen’s knee-jerk refusal.

“Great,” said Lyo.  “Does this mean I can go back to work?”

“No,” Elaine said firmly.  “You owe me.”

Lyo muttered something rude under her breath and subsided, leaning back against the doorway with her arms folded across her chest.

Olwen looked up, eyes narrowed.  She pinned both of her sisters in place with a glare, wondering if whatever Ellie had on Lyo would require her intervention.

Lyo huffed.  “S’fine,” she muttered.  “I do.”

Well.  Alright then, thought Olwen.

“What do you want?” she asked.  Elaine would only tap dance around the issue for another hour if she didn’t.

Ellie sighed.  “You’re no fun,” she complained.

“I’m an Auror.  I’m busy.”

“And we’re not?” Elaine asked, indignant.

“What do you want?” Olwen repeated.

“Ugh, fine,” said Ellie.  “I need you both to pretend to be me.  Just a little.”

“Oh, no,” said Olwen.  “No.  And hell no.”

“Please?” Elaine wheedled.

Olwen pointed at her.  “No,” she said.

“But it won’t work with just Lyo!” said Elaine.

“Why not?” demanded Lyo, sounding a bit insulted.

Olwen sighed.  “Because Find the Lady is a three card con,” she said.

“Oh,” said Lyo.  They’d all learned a number of card tricks from Uncle Theseus, who knew an awful lot of ways to cheat at cards for a pureblood.

Olwen mentally ran through a list of upcoming political events and fundraisers.  It couldn’t be Ward; he and Ellie had dated, and he’d recognize her.  Hamilton?  No, he’d recognize Olwen.  She’d arrested his brother.  Hamilton fucking hated her.  And Marlow had that … thing … about Lyo that neither of them had explained yet but Galahad was most definitely keeping an eye on.  “What do you have on Armstrong?” she asked.

“I hate it when you do that,” Elaine complained.  “I know you’re a crap Legilimens.”

“Auror,” Olwen sang at her.

“Ugh,” said Ellie.  Behind her, Lyo snickered.  “I don’t have anything on Armstrong but suspicions.  Yet,” she added, entirely too gleefully for Olwen’s comfort.

Armstrong was the sort of politician who always made Olwen want to do a headcount on the interns, just to make sure he didn’t have one tied up in a closet somewhere.  Elaine and Lyo were as capable as any of them, but Olwen still didn’t want either of her little sisters anywhere near the man if she wasn’t also within hexing distance.

“Fine,” she said.

She and Ellie and Lyo didn’t have it quite as bad as the boys now that they were grown.  People very rarely mistook them for one another, unless they were deliberately trying to pass for one of their sisters.  But Olwen knew for a fact that people mostly recognized her by her braids, Ellie by her silver rimmed glasses and Lyo by her Healer trainee’s caduceus.  Dressed similarly, with their too distinctive Beauvais wands tucked out of sight, no one would give her or Lyo a second glance if they claimed to be Elaine.

She felt her lips curve into a wampus cat’s hunting smile.  This was going to be fun.

Galahad

“Damnit, Percival,” bellowed President Andrews.

Galahad kept his expression polite and serene.  “Galahad, sir,” he corrected.  “My father retired, remember?”

“Don’t treat me like I’m senile, boy.  It just slipped out.”

“Of course, sir,” said Galahad.  Most of MACUSA’s old guard had mistaken him for Dad at one point or another.  He was used to it.

The president sighed and dropped back into his chair.  He summoned a drink with a wave of his hand and used it to gesture at Galahad.  “You’re shaping up to be a similar pain in my ass,” he said darkly.

“Sir,” Galahad said, in mild rebuke.  He and Dad were a lot alike, yes, but he was nowhere near as badly behaved as Dad.  Papa wouldn’t have stood for it.

“Better mannered, though,” the president allowed.

“My Papa’s influence, sir.”

President Andrews winced.  Credence Graves was still a legend in MACUSA, and for good reason.

“Now, are we going to continue this discussion like civilized adults, or are you going to continue to bellow at me?” Galahad inquired.

The president scowled at him.  “I don’t believe you quite understand which of us is in charge, Graves.”

“As you say, sir,” said Galahad, his tone deliberately bland.  The president wasn’t the first authority figure he’d tangled with.

“Merlin’s balls.  This is exactly like dealing with your father,” muttered President Andrews.

“My father would bellow back,” Galahad pointed out.

“Your other father.”

“Ah,” said Galahad, pleased by this tribute.

The president waved a hand.  “Sit, will you?  I’m getting a crick in my neck staring up at you.  By all means,” he said.  “Let us discuss this like civilized adults.”

[redrobinfection]

Coffee, Coffee Everywhere, Pt 20

<< Part 19

This is the “conclusion” to the Coffee, Coffee Everywhere series (for real, this time, but stick around for the epilogue and an announcement about future additions to the ‘verse next week). Thank you to everyone who has read, liked, reblogged any part of the series!!!

~*~

Jason strode into the kitchen, looking to snag some breakfast before he passed out for a few hours, and stopped when he saw Tim at the table in the breakfast nook, nursing something in Bruce's infamous mega mug.

"Hey, there Timbo, what'cha got? Already falling off the wagon?"

Tim turned his bleary, dark-shadowed eyes up at him and instantly Jason knew that whatever was in that mug, it was definitely not coffee, decaf or otherwise. "It's tea. Herbal tea. Mint," he responded tersely. He looked about five seconds away from falling asleep on the spot.

"I'm thinking about making myself some chocolate chip pancakes; you want some? You look like you could use the sugar."

To his surprise, Tim shook his head vehemently. "No. Can't have chocolate. Has caffeine in it."

"Oh yeah, that's right. What about blueberry? Blueberry sound good?" Jason backpedaled quickly, feeling bad for the thoughtless suggestion.

Tim hummed and took a long draw of his mint tea. "Yeah, that'd be nice. Thanks, Jay," he replied drowsily, the words echoing strangely in the mug.

"So, uh, how much longer before you'll start letting yourself have small amounts of caffeine again, Timbo?" he asked, attempting casual conversation as a means to keep the kid conscious.

Tim set down the mug and sagged back, immediately sliding low into the seat. "It's been what… two weeks now? So... at least another six."

"Ouch. Two months total?" he asked incredulously as he assembled the ingredients for pancakes, scrambled eggs and fruit. He'd been planning to ask Tim to slice the fruit, but at this point he didn't feel confident Tim wouldn't accidentally slice a finger off or stab himself in his current state.

"Yeah. At least two months," Tim answered, his words trailing off into a large yawn. He finally gave up on keeping himself upright in the chair and plonked his head down on the table instead, arms hanging limply underneath.

"What is this I hear about you going back to caffeine, Drake?" Damian demanded loudly as he walked through the kitchen door. Dick filed in behind him. They had a full house at the manor this morning, so it wouldn’t be long before nearly the entire Batclan filled the large kitchen.

"Not f'r anudder six weeks, Dami'n," Tim mumbled into the wood, not even bothering to turn his head.

"Good," Damian replied haughtily. "Otherwise my threat to keep you away from caffeine at the pain of stabbing still stands."

"No one is stabbing anyone," Bruce sighed as he stepped into the kitchen a moment later. Tim raised his head at the sound of B's voice, blinking rapidly at the newcomers as they abruptly filled the kitchen with noise and movement.

"You're cooking this morning, Jason?" Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow as he stepped up beside the stove.

"Yeah. I ran into Alfie and asked if it'd be okay. He said it was fine by him. That fine by you?" he asked lightly, keeping his attention fixed on the pancake mix he was assembling from scratch. He tried not to let the tension of being questioned show in his posture. B gave a low grunt of assent and patted Jason lightly on the shoulder before moving off towards the fridge. Jason let out a low sigh of relief. That was about as cordial as things got between them these days, but things were better than they had been; it was a start.

"So what are we having," Dick asked as he poured an obscene amount of Crocky Crunch into a salad bowl. Alfred would have a conniption when he came downstairs and saw that.

"We are having blueberry pancakes, scrambled eggs, and fruit. I dunno what you're having, you cereal-obsessed monster," Jason replied, giving Dick plenty of side-eye as he stirred the wet ingredients into the batter.

He laughed out loud and ambled over to grab the milk from Bruce. "Don't worry, I'll have plenty of room left over for your pancakes, Little Wing."

"You'd better go easy on the pancakes, Grayson. We wouldn't want your posterior to become anymore pronounced or noticeable than it already is. It is already something of an exposure risk at this point," Damian deadpanned smoothly. All motion in the kitchen stopped and every set of eyes turned to stare at him.

"Was that…? Was that a butt joke? From you? Am I awake? Did I hear that right?" Tim asked in awe, scrubbing at his eyes, which were finally fully open, and open wide, at that.

"Damian…" Bruce began in a growl, but Dick laughed and steered him over to the table.

"I'll keep that in mind, Dames," he responded amiably, rolling his eyes at the displeased expression on B's face. "Drink your milk and let him be, Bruce. Do you know how long I've been working to teach Damian to have a sense of humor?"

"Hey, Damian, could you help me slice the fruit?" Jason asked, tearing the youngest's attention away from the table and whatever argument he planned to start over his supposed 'sufficient' sense of humor. Damian nodded and turned to begin washing the fruit off in the sink.

Jason glanced back toward the table and considered what a strange thing it was to not see a single drop of coffee anywhere. Bruce had apparently taken to drinking milk or tea or juice whenever Tim was around, partially as a show of solidarity but also to reduce the burden of temptation, or so he had said. Jason shook his head in wonder. To think Bruce of all people would - or could - give up coffee, at least partially, to help one of them.

Actually, he mused, almost everyone was doing something support Tim's decision to lay off the caffeine for a while; Bruce giving up coffee in the mornings, Alfred providing alternative drink and food, Cass sharing her herbal tea, Dick checking in on him during patrols, Damian stealing all the coffee out of his safehouses and bugging the pantries to deter him from sneaking into the locked-down coffee beans. Okay, that last one was a little messed up, but so was Damian, so in a own way it was kind of touching how far he had gone to keep Tim away from the coffee.

Jason himself made a point to check in with him now and then to make sure he kept up eating well even without all his "coffee creations" to keep him motivated and to make sure he didn't try stay out on patrol or stay up working too much later than the rest of them. With varying success, of course.

Steph and Cass entered the kitchen next, both making a beeline for the tea and coffee section of the counter. Cass went right to work heating up water in the electric kettle and pulling the green tea out of the cabinet while Steph pulled a sachet of something for herself from her pocket.

"The fruit has been sufficiently sliced, Todd. How else may I be of assistance?" Damian asked, rinsing and wiping down the knife briskly.

"Awesome," Jason replied distractedly, briefly glancing over the meticulously cut fruit and nodding approval. "Uhhh… could you take the bowl over and then start setting the table?"

"You need some help, Dames?" Stephanie asked brightly, turning away from the hot water kettle holding a steaming mug. Cass also turned and nodded toward him to offer her aid.

Damian grimaced at the nickname, but continued in an even tone. "If you would set out the plates, Brown, and if you would set out napkins, Cassandra, then I will follow with the cutlery." They nodded assent, and wandered over to set their mugs down at the table; Steph set hers down at the seat next to Tim, Cass set hers across from them, and then they both turned to their tasks.

A few seconds later a loud moan disrupted the bustling tranquility that had fallen over the kitchen. He turned along with everyone else to see Tim leaning away from Steph's mug dramatically, eyeing the steaming mug as if it held a poisonous snake. His face paled and he swallowed convulsively.

"Tim…?"

"Steph, what did I tell you last week?" Tim croaked unhappily, pushing back his chair and sliding over into another seat unsteadily.

Everyone's eyes whipped over to Stephanie, who rolled hers. "Jeez, stop being such a drama queen. Do you remember what I told you? I don't care if you've ruined coffee for yourself; I need my morning fix, I'm going to have my morning fix, and if you're around when I make it, then you're just gonna have to deal with it."

Tim clamped a hand his mouth as he stared, transfixed, at the mug and shook his head. She sighed. "Besides, it's not going to jump out and bite you, or worse, jump down your throat. You're a big, strong Red Robin, I know you can handle a little temptation here and there."

Damian made a sound like an angry cat and stalked over to her. "Brown, I swear upon my blade, if you ruin our efforts to break Drake of his appalling hab-"

"It's not temptation," Tim cut in loudly, standing up and starting to back away from the table slowly. From where Jason was standing, he looked a tad green around the gills. "It's the smell."

They each frowned. "The smell?" Dick parroted in confusion.

Tim grimaced. "Ever since the time I… yeah… the smell of coffee is just…" he trailed off, waving his hand suggestively.

Steph snorted and sauntered over to the table, snatching up her mug. "So, what? You're trying to tell us that ever since your stunt with the mac n' cheese you can't stand the smell of coffee?"

Tim glared and nodded. Steph laughed out loud. "So are you avoiding coffee because you're avoiding caffeine or because the smell makes you wanna hurl?"

Tim's glare darkened. "Both," he snapped, darting forward to grab his tea, then slowly treading in a wide arc around Steph toward the door to the rest of the manor. "I'm serious about breaking my caffeine addiction, but believe me, right now there is nothing tempting about the smell of coffee to me whatsoever."

Steph grinned wickedly. "Are you sure? I mean you put on a convincing act, but how do we know you're not sneaking off to brew a triple espresso in some secret hiding spot right this minute, huh?"

If Tim could have simultaneously set someone on fire and frozen their soul to the core with a single look, Steph would have shattered into a thousands smoldering frozen bits on the spot.

"You sure you're not tempted to sneak a sip?" she teased, darting in close and wafting the mug in his face. Tim literally gagged and dashed for the sink, leaving Steph and the rest of the family gaping in shock as he actually, real life, coughed up his tea into the sink.

Jason couldn't believe it. Trying to imagine a Tim Drake who has an aversion to coffee was like trying to imagine a Dick Grayson who suddenly one day announces he hates cereal. Impossible, or so they thought.

Before Steph, or anyone else for that matter, could recover from the shock, Damian shot forward, grabbed the mug from her slack grip, opened a door to the veranda and hurled the mug as far out onto the lawn as he could. Everyone stared. Steph blinked once then stormed out onto the veranda.

"You brat! My coffee!!!" she shrieked. "And I liked that mug!" She whirled on Damian. He crossed his arms and glared up at her darkly.

"That is what you deserve, not only for sneaking contraband into this house while a ban of the substance - a ban we all agreed upon for the sake of one of our team - is in effect, but for also being such a jerk to Drake when he is so clearly struggling to do better."

Steph stared and shook her head. "Since when do you of all people care if someone is being a jerk to Tim? I thought that was your life's calling, Demon Brat."

"-Tt-" Damian walked back into the kitchen. Steph trailed behind. Dick and Cass had since jumped up to check on Tim and were gently coaxing him back to the table with reassuring words and gentle touches. Jason vaguely registered a burning smell before he realized with a start that he'd been so caught up in the drama that he'd forgotten about the pancakes currently on the stove.

As he cursed and threw them into the waste bin, Damian replied dryly, "I'm tired of having to explain to various people that, yes, 'Fat-girl', I do care what happens to the members of this family, our team, and, in this particular instance, Drake. I've been one of Drake's most adamant supporters. Imagine how much less pathetic and useless Drake would be if he let himself sleep now and then instead of running around Gotham like some kind of coffee-fueled zombie, instead of sticking his exhaustion-clumsy fingers into cases and situations he would be better off leaving to Father and I. Imagine if he only offered his assistance when needed, instead of trying to be everywhere and do everything all at once."

Jason shook his head slowly as he poured out a new set of pancakes. "And here, just when I was thinking the bat brat might have finally grown a heart…"

Dick nodded and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, well, at least it's an improvement over them trying to kill each other. Can you imagine him admitting that there are situations in which Tim's 'assistance' would be 'needed' three years ago? Let's count this as progress and move on."

Jason cut off Damian's indignant growl with a wave. "Hey, Dames, come over here and help me get the eggs going. Cass, can you take care of plates? And you," he stopped and glared pointedly at Steph, "go apologize to Tim. That was a dick thing to do, and you know if I'm the one telling you that then…"

Steph rolled her eyes, but threw her hands up in surrender. "Okay, I get it, 'Alfie Jr'. Keep your eyes on the pancakes."

"I should think such an appellation would be an esteemed honor, Master Jason," Alfred intoned smoothly as he stepped into the kitchen, eyes twinkling with amusement. Jason caught his eye and grinned. Knowing Alfie, he'd probably listened to entire conversation from outside the door before choosing the most opportune moment to make his entrance. Or he'd tapped into the network of bugs that Jason was convinced Alfie hid from everyone, including B - the man had been a spy after all.

"Sure is, Alfie. I think I'll get that engraved on a plaque and hung on the wall of my kitchen, you know?"

Alfred nodded with a quiet smile, then turned toward the table. "Miss Stephanie, once you've finished apologizing to Master Tim, would you be so kind as to set out water glasses for everyone. I think it's high time we sat down to enjoy the breakfast Master Jason has so graciously prepared for us."

Steph nodded contritely and murmured another quiet 'sorry' to Tim before turning to cabinets. Alfred turned his hawkish gaze upon the table's remaining occupants, namely Bruce, Dick, Cass, and Tim.

"Was that a mug I saw someone throw into the rose garden? I don't suppose if I take a stroll down there after breakfast I'll find it crushing one of the roses the groundskeepers and I have worked so hard to maintain?"

Several wild glances passed between them, and across the kitchen Damian paled, then murmured a stumbling excuse along the lines of “need toilet" and skittered away from the stove. Jason shook his head but took over the eggs. Steph stifled a laugh and Cass shook her head. Alfred lifted one brow and swept his sharp gaze over the entire kitchen, stilling everyone. No one so much as twitched even as they all clearly saw Damian dart out of a window a few rooms over then streak across the lawn.

Bruce cleared his throat. "N-no, of course not, Alfred." The kitchen broke out in a chorus of 'no's and Alfred nodded his satisfaction.

"Very good."

~*~

Epilogue (Part 21) >>

[these-flowers-are-toxic]

Episode 1

*adult male voice narrates the beginning* *Camera view is of a boy typing in his room* Adult Narrator: My names Carter, and today’s the day. Today is when I realized not all flowers are exotic and some are toxic..  *girl starts typing, in her room, eating an ice cream sandwich* Adult Narrator: When I was 18 I shared a blog with my best friend. It required a password for anyone to read it, only me and Margo had the password. Together we’d write in it like a diary, sharing our most intimate secrets and mistakes without judgement” *Carter starts reading a post in the diary* *Carter answers Margo’s skype call* Carter: Why are you so stupid, Margo? (jokingly) You don’t have to be anorexic to lose weight  Margo: Why aren’t you so stupid, Carter? (jokingly) Of course, I don’t have to be anorexic says the the stick with no weight problem” Carter: Listen, you’re a healthy weight, and youre eating an ice cream sandwich as we speak, you havent even committed to this yet, why don’t we just start working out.” Margo: Carter, I wrote that I wanted to be anorexic, we write about our secrets and mistakes, and let this just be one of our many secret mistakes. Don’t go limp dick on me now and try changing me, we have this blog so that we can vent and whenever we have any secrets we can accept each other and be with each other every step of the way. Carter: But.. Margo, I don’t want you to feel like that’s what you need to do. I want to make you see otherwise but if you just want me to stand her and support you through thick and thin, then alright.. I guess. Margo: See, there’s my best friend I know and love. *Carters phone rings* Carter: Hey, hold up, really quick, Jack’s calling me. Margo: Ohhhhhhhhhhh la la Carter: Shut up bitch (jokingly) *Margo laughs and hangs up* Jack is shown with a guy beside him, together lying naked. Carter: Hello? Sorry I know you’ve been busy but I missed you, and ever since you’ve been with your family on your golfing trip, I’ve just wanted to talk to you, thanks for calling me back finally. Jack: Listen, I just wanted to call and tell you this so it wasn’t misconstrued, and so that it was clear.. *sighs* Carter: What? Ha.. (nervous laughter) Jack: I don’t want to be with you anymore, I’ve been seeing someone new. And he makes me happier. I’m sorry C. You know you’re always going to be who I call when I’m in a rough spot, and when I have nobody else. Carter: Oh..... Who is he? Jack: It’s Ryan.. Carter: *appalled and shocked* He’s grotesque, how could you leave ME, for him? Jack: Harsh. I just called to let you know, *ryan laughs in the background and says jack doesn’t think so* Jack: Just.. leave me alone, okay? I need space. Carter: YOU need space when we havent spoken in a week, when you were supposed to be out golfing and you with RYAN RIGHT NOW?  Carter: You know what, whatever, hope you’re fucking happy. *Carter hangs up and starts to tear up* *Carter calls Margo* *Margo doesn’t answer, she’s in the shower getting ready* Carter: Damn it, bitch.  *Carter starts typing* Carter types: Well gee, today just fucking sucked. Lol. I don’t know what to do, Jack broke up with me. He’s seeing Ryan. I know we only dated for a couple months but I gave him my virginity.. I was just willing to do anything to make him love me, and I thought it was working. I thought, you know, I was enough? I’ve dated people before. All girls, but Jack was who I came out for. Jack is my first and I’ll never get over this. Never. *Margo calls back later on in the night*  *Carter answers the phone* Carter: Hello..? Margo: Sorry bitch, (jokingly) I was out with this guy, he was cute, but wasn’t cute enough. I had to cut the night short, so I blew him. Carter: Why are you so stupid, Margo? (jokingly) Margo: Why aren’t you so stupid? (jokingly) Carter: Did you read the blog? Margo: No, why? Carter: Jack dumped me. He said Ryan makes him happier..  Margo: Ugh, god, he’s so ugly though. Don’t worry. Carter: I know he is.. that’s why it makes me so upset, I think. It means im uglier than him.. on the inside? Margo: No, no, no. Carter.. Sometimes things just don’t work out. And people just aren’t meant for each other. Don’t let it effect you.. I’m so sorry C. Carter: I just feel so dumb. He said he went golfing and when he finally called him was with Ryan.. how long do you think they’ve been together. Margo: Who cares.. You need to stop overthinking, focus on other things Carter. Carter: Like what? Margo: Graduations coming up soon, right? Carter: But that means nothing to me, I’m graduating with nobody I know. Ever since I moved here, nobody really talks to me. I’m that “gay kid” Margo: That’s because they’re all pricks. Listen, focus on school, okay? Don’t let this hurt you, you deserve to be happy, and you can find plenty of other people that will treat you better than he did. Carter: I guess.. Margo: Listen C, people are like flowers to us. If I had to consider you a flower, you’re the most exotic flower. A lotus, maybe? Jack...? He’s nothing special, he’s the most common dandelion, that you can find anywhere, and doesn’t need your effort to be nourished and grow. Carter: I’m not exotic, but thanks, I guess. I’m going to go to sleep though, I love you, bitch. Margo: Don’t worry about him. He’ll grow one day. You are an exotic flower. We’re exotic bitch (laughs) Goodnight *Next Friday Night* *Carter has Margo in his face, all dressed up in her casual but fashionable outfits* Margo: Wake up, bitch. We’re hanging out with Mikey and I need you to be my cock block Carter: Haha, okay, don’t worry. I just need to get ready, let me take a shower and get dressed. *Margo follows Carter into the bathroom* Margo: So why were you asleep at 6 pm? That’s a little early C. Carter: I just really miss Jack.. I haven’t slept much, and the only time I feel okay is when I sleep and don’t think about him.. Margo: Ugh, shut up, you can get over this, you’re cute, funny, and too good for him. *Carter starts showering* *Margo starts fixing her make up  starts playing love is a battle field by pat benetar on her phone.* *Carter and Margo start singing it* *Scene slides over to Carter getting into Margos car* Margo: So Mikey is throwing a little something together tonight, it wont be big at all. Carter: Okay, who’s gonna be there? Margo: I have no clue, hopefully someone I don’t hate. Carter: Jesus, you don’t think.. Jack will be there, right? Margo: No, they don’t even know each other, stop thinking about him! *Scene slides to them getting out of the car and going into Mikeys house* *Carter and Margo walk in, there’s only 4 people, all mikeys friends, carter isn’t familiar with any of them, but margo greets them like she knows them* Mikey: Hey I thought maybe we could just chillax tonight, maybe find something to get ourselves into. Mikeys friend: How about we smoke already, we’ve waited for them for like an hour already Mikey: Haha, true, how about we pack the bowl. *Mikey packs the bowl, and says marco* Margo: Polo!!! *Carter looks confused* *Mikey laughs and hands the glass pipe to Margo* Carter: What are you doing? Margo: I’m smoking, whats it’s look like, this isn’t my first rodeo? Carter: But.. Margo? You never told me you’ve smoked.  Margo: Yeah, it’s been a few times, try it. Carter: .... why are you so stupid, margo? Margo: Why aren’t you so stupid, c? (with a grin) Carter: Okay.. I’ll try it. I won’t become an addict.. right? Mikeys friends all laugh Mikey: No way man, it’s just weed, you’re good. Margo his the bowl and passes it to carter Margo lights the bowl Margo: Now inhale! *Carter coughs* Carter: It burns, I need water. Margo: Haha how does it feel to be stupid?  Carter: I don’t feel anything yet? Margo: Well go outside and get fresh air and come back in. Carter walks outside Carter starts to feel his knees get a little weak, and his back feel lighter, less stress, and a bit more open to with his body posture  Carter comes back inside Margo: Do you feel anything yet?  Carter: I don’t know Margo flips a light switch, to where only the lava lamps are on everyones still visible When margo flips the light switch, mikeys friend mutes the tv When margo flips the light switch she only mouths words Margo Mouthing: Do you feel anything yet? Mikey mouths: I think he’s feeling it Mikeys friends: all silently laugh Margo flips the light back on, and his friends unmute the tv and she speaks Margo actually speaking: Are you sure you don’t--- *flips the switch and tv goes mute and everyone else* Margo mouthing:---- feel anything yet? *Carters eyes widen and becomes confused* Carter: guys when the light flips off i cant hear anything, it that normal, what’s wrong with me? Margo flips its back on and everyone laughs and reassures carter he’s fine they were just joking with him *Carter sighs in relief, whispering thank god* Carter: When does this feeling go away Margo: When you go to sleep or like in an hour or two, don’t worry bitch, you’re having fun. Mikey and his friends all start playing music and mikey asks to be alone with margo Margo: Sorry, I have to use to bathroom, C, can you come with me? *Narrator, as a gay best friend, theres nothing to hide between me and margo, we would occasionally go to the bathroom together despite the strange looks, it’s just us.* Carter: Yeah I have to pee really bad anyway.