#so I think it's alright for old cast iron machines since they have a lot more open space inside them and no fragile bits in there

[vinceaddams]

And oil it, if it's one that requires oiling!

When was the last time you cleaned your sewing machine? It's a simple task, and something I do between projects. Have you noticed your thread tangling or tearing? Stitches being skipped? A funky noise that shouldn't be there? Chances are your machine needs to be cleaned. Cleaning it will prevent it from breaking down and requiring repairs, and that can get very expensive.

[shirefantasies]

I’ll message you in one second 😂 but I saw you mention Hogans Heroes and immediately I knew I had to say this “I know Na-othing. I see nothing. I was not here. I did not even get up this morning!”

Ah Schultz my favorite German toy maker 😂 it’s even funnier (not haha but ironically) when you realize he and Klink‘a actor were Jew’s playing a Nazi. One of them I think Werner Klemperer said playing such a bumbling fool of a nazi was cathartic and his only condition was that the character wouldn’t have a hero arc or redemption arc of any kind and therefore would take responsibility for the atrocities committed. Not giving the Nazi’s involved leeway.

actually I’ll leave this here off anonymous) I’m female thanks for being respectful I forgot to specify lol *facepalm*😂) I’m still reading your response but like I said I saw hogans heroes mentioned 🤣 and thank you! Do you know how AMAZING YOU ARE too?!

“Oh as far as comfort songs (Star trek lower decks tribute: Lower Decks - You Told The Drunks I Knew Karate) and Family guy (Mr. Booze) or the original Robin and the Five hoods version of Mr.Booze. 😂 also *cough* my little pony smile song and rarity’s sewing songs when I sew 🧵 with my sewing machine. I made my Guinea pig a tent, beds, and a pillow. An angsty song that when I need to go through those emotions would be Blackswan’s Rubix’s cube. Dragon Song by Built By Titan (I went through some things after Httyd ended it was like my childhood flew away with toothless it was oof 😅 😂 or OneRepublic - Good Life because emotions. Or Whitesnakes here I go again…dude I love music 🤣 this is the short list version. Last thing 😂 whenever you get to it it’s no problem. But I just looked up surfing bird family guy and I’m like “Ooh it’s that song!” I always knew it as “The bird is the word” song I didn’t know it was called Surfing bird. I friggin love that song. 🤣 alright have a goodnight and week! Talk to ya later”

OMG Yasss! A lot of the HH cast were actually affected by the Holocaust. That was a stipulation of the whole show, only dumb nazis or even the cunning and smart seeming ones always lose. Plenty of digs at what they’re doing and the people following those orders! John Banner was the only survivor in his family too, very tragic ��� Robert Clary (LeBeau) actually had numbers tattooed on him from a camp 😲 I love that Schultz is a successful toymaker though, it’s so perfect for him 🥹 and it seems that his character is more distant from the nazis and more just a drafted soldier who doesn’t want to be there. As a Bofur/ur clan girlie I enjoy my toymaker characters 🫶🏻

Ooh music recommendations! I could give some too though you may not like them since I mostly listen to heavy stuff these days 😂 I used to watch mlp when I was younger how funny! Is Dragon Song from the movies or just something that reminds you of them? Same with Surfin’ Bird, my old boss just called it “The Bird Song” 😆 her husband played it for their daughters and it was bugging her that they loved it and kept dancing to it!

[herodrowned]

@rapxir | cont. from x

First thing was first, she had to make sure that he was adjusting alright to being out of his cell. Second thing was getting a handle on this whole “sorry” thing. It had started during his little stint in 2022, and had yet to stop since. Ironic for her of all people to try and ease anyone else’s guilty conscious, but sometimes it was easier to try and fix someone else’s house than to patch up your own. It wasn’t his fault. Not this. Not his wife. There was a grey area concerning the role of his stubbornness in the accident, but hell if he hadn’t been humbled since.

“He woke up today and chose to be an asshole,” she said. “That’s not on you. The press in general has a habit of ignoring common decency.”

She scowled. Vultures, the lot of them. It had been the same during her own period of infamy back home. Quotes that could only be “allegedly” sourced to those who knew her. A front page picture of her father with his hand up to block his face from the camera. She’d heard that particular paper wasn’t doing so hot after that little moral scandal.

The red light blinked on, casting a soft glow over the work area as the arm regains sight. She bent over and tilted her head to align it with the lens.

“Welcome back,” she says to the arm.

“We should. I went shopping yesterday so we’d have things when you were released,” she said. “Can’t be sure we have everything we need for anything in particular though. You wanna make a list and I’ll check?”

She gave him a slightly teasing grin. “Hell, you’ve gotta be better than me, at least. If you were relying on me to cook, you’d be out of prison and straight to a hospital room.”

He hadn’t realized himself how much things had changed since his inhibitor chip had been repaired; the arms didn’t impose an incredible amount of influence on him, he thought, but he figures they must’ve done some meddling with the chemicals in his brain, making him more agreeable. He loved them like children, scolded them the same too, but he didn’t blame them. They were technically less than a year old at that time, and knew nothing but the machine. The other arms whir an appreciation when Flo finally regains sight, experimentally opening and closing the claw before Otto releases the arm and lets it raise itself above him.

“I don’t recall something like spaghetti being too complicated,” he says, although he’d admittedly forgotten exactly how to make it. He’ll have to resort to reading the packaging over for a bit. “No, no need. I’m sure you would’ve stocked us with many of the essentials.” The former scientist trusts her with more than he’d actually admit, having grown attached in the time during his captivity. He can’t tell if it’s because she’s been the only one to want to see her or because he feels so bad for... before he had his chip fixed.

“In all honesty, I hadn’t cooked for even longer than I realize...” He’d spent the months prior to the Oscorp incident eating takeout and a variety of whatever snacks Rosie had brought to the lab with her, then there was when he’d been fused to the arms. He hadn’t eaten anything that wasn’t stolen ( the arms had realized he needed to eat and would swipe street food whenever he’d so happen to cross by it ), and for that he grows ever more resentful for himself. Then, of course, the past five years of prison meals was.... less than ideal. “I assure you, food poisoning would’ve been a better alternative to nothing.”

He’s quite worried for his skills, in fact. When was the last time he’d eaten anything warm? The arms look at him on some level of confusion; ( why would you cook? ) “Well, mostly because it’s cheaper than buying takeout.” Otto, realizing that she can’t hear them, nods towards one of the arms. “They’re asking why I’d think to cook. I don’t think I ever gave the police an account of the stolen foods they’d swiped for me...” He tries to make it sound like a trivial part of his self-deprecation but it’s hard to.

[giantroboticplatypusbutt218]

I finished watching Loonatics Unleashed and I have Some Thoughts. I guess this is like a part 2 to the other post I made about the show so yeah.

I swear I don’t intend for everything I write to be an essay but whatever. It’s all under the cut. No massive story spoilers, but I will talk about episodes and will warn accordingly. (But who actually cares about being spoiled on the plot of Loonatics Unleashed?)

Alright so I finally figured out why Ace has laser vision. ...It’s kinda dumb but it’s because rabbits eat carrots(in cartoons). It’s... a reason at least. Still kinda sucks that it’s his only power when everyone else got 2 and some change. Kickass swords don’t count, even if they are magic. Seriously; Transformation. Duplication. Imitation. Tons of other “ation”s. They could’ve leaned into his trickster side but no. He eats carrots... so he got laser vision. Also he only ate carrots like three times in the show so wtf...

Okay so the pacing... improved somewhat in season 2. Don’t get me wrong there were still problems in some episodes but at least they learned how to build the stakes until the climax. They still sometimes went from zero to eighty after the opening credits, but at least it wasn’t zero to a hundred. Much less whiplash was had is what I’m saying. 

I don’t think I really mentioned the villains before but they’re uh... generally not very good. They’ve got cool gimmicks but most of the time they’re just two stereotypes and a cliche in a trench coat. Season 2 brought back classic anthro characters to be villains a few times, and while they still weren’t well written and just referenced old bits half the time... at least they weren’t dehumanized humans. 

I also don’t think I mentioned the animation so... it’s fine. It’s got cut corners but all cartoons do. Sometimes fight scenes look cool, sometimes they’re stiff. Sometimes the slapstick is well timed, sometimes it’s not. Sometimes the facial expressions match the voice acting, sometimes they don’t. Speaking of voice acting, it’s good. There’s not really anything stand out to perform in the first place but everyone does a good job with what they have. 

Okay random note before getting deeper into things... the intro themes were... not good. I swear the first song ended on a note that it wasn’t supposed to. The second song fixed that but added people announcing the characters which... is just worse to me. Not much else to say because I skipped them after the first few times. 

(Very mild spoilers for the general plots of episodes past this point.)

Ace and Lexi improved a little in the second season, but I still find them kinda bland. Ace still just feels like zero calorie Bugs Bunny. His wit is confined to being the leader, snarky comebacks, and some decent sleuthing skills... and that’s really it. He doesn’t really play around with the villains the way Bugs would. Ace was also supposed to have an arc learning to use his magic sword which... didn’t really happen. Lexi’s defining trait outside of her powers is still that she’s “the girl” which... sucks... Uh... she upgraded to Gamer Girl in the second season which while neat, amounted to nothing outside that one episode. At the very least she was never kidnapped for more than 5 seconds?(That “honor” goes to Zadavia) They also never really brought up their backstories in a meaningful way again, which sucks. 

I still like the rest of the team. Slam got an episode about wrestling that built on his backstory and was fun to watch. Duck discovered that his egg powers work differently in water which was neat and matched him being a waterfowl.(Lexi’s powers work differently in water too but it’s never brought up again). Rev is still Rev and I still love him. He got an episode about his family and struggle to impress them(specifically his parents) despite his career choice which was also neat, but I will be coming back to this episode later. Tech is also still Tech and I also still love him. But uh, every character and also me wanted to see him get out of the lab more, and then he got like a nibble of an episode to get out of the lab, and then the show was over. Oof.

Speaking of Tech, it might be for the best he hardly ever left the lab because his powers are... possibly way too effective against all the robots and machines the team fights. Now, him being “overpowered” could’ve been used as a fun writing challenge. Robot goons aren’t a good option for villains anymore. Fighting against him in a city filled with metal is harder. Villains can’t rely on simply killing him thanks to his regeneration. Fight scenes including Tech would have to be handled in a fun and interesting way. But... no. In a team with two tech guys, the one with super speed and flight comes with while the one who can control metal and literally can’t die stays behind. Oh well. Doubt they could’ve added him into more fights without accidentally dumbing him down anyway. 

Oh crap I forgot to talk about Zadavia! Uh... she exists. She’s the team’s boss who sends them out on missions. Uh... I can’t talk too much about her without spoiling what little overarching plot this show has, but just know that she’s neat, but affected by the usual sexism going on in the show’s writing.

(Character and episode spoilers past this point.)

You know, for being The Loonatics the main cast wasn’t very loony. You know who were though? Basically all the villains. Yeah I don’t wanna go there but oops here I go anyway. It’s pretty messed up that all the main characters’ zany traits were dialed down, while the defining feature of practically every villain (besides their stereotypes)is that they’re insane. I mean, if you’re looking for good mental illness rep in The Looney Tunes you’re gonna be disappointed, but at least in the shorts almost every character was a little unhinged and a bit of an asshole, making none of them stand out for those traits specifically. 

Also messed up is that a lot of the villains are disfigured and made fun of for it by the main cast. Hot take of the century, but I think making fun of people for having a big head or only one eye is... bad. Oh and if they’re a woman then they’re also judged on how hot they are. Actually all women in the show are subjected to sexist writing. I remember like one episode where women were treated with a sliver of respect for a split second and that was in the obligatory “the cast comes across an island of amazon women” episode. However since most of the time was spent painting them as villains until the “actually sexism is bad” ending, there was hardly a moment of reprieve from the bullshit if a woman was on screen. 

I’m not the best person to speak on this but uh... it’s fucked up that since literally every notable human is a villain, all the people of color are bad guys, right? Like, obviously it’s not as bad as some of the shit the old shorts pulled, but that’s like saying getting punched is not as bad as getting stabbed. It’s true... but I’m sure most people would prefer neither. 

And here’s where I bring up that Rev episode I mentioned earlier. Rev’s parents are racist against coyotes (cartoons sure love to make carnivores allegories for black people don’t they?) and obviously with Tech E. Coyote being his close friend, that causes trouble. ...Right? Uh, no. They say some racist crap to Tech, and that’s it. There is not even an attempt to correct their behavior from anyone. It’s just treated as some unfortunate quirk. In fact the episode’s conflict actually revolves around Rev’s brother, Rip. Honestly, I doubt that they could’ve handled a decent “racism is bad” episode anyway. But they could’ve also... just not brought up racism if they couldn’t handle it? I’m sure having no racism topic at all would be better than having Tech just take the parents’ racist bull crap lying down and then help Rev impress them with an invention he doesn’t get credit for. Also at one point Rev says if Tech wasn’t a coyote and a guy he’d kiss him, which has two uncomfortable implications, but this section is already too long. 

(Spoilers end here.)

Overall... yeah the show’s not very good. Of course it wasn’t. It was always going to be a little garbage. And no not because of the darker style or strange setting or any of that superficial crap. Team dynamic shows are popular and with Teen Titans doing so well WB probably thought they might as well shove out a 2 season Looney Tunes version to grab a little more cash, probably minimizing the budget to squeeze out as much profit as possible. If anyone working on the show was passionate about it, I doubt they had the budget or time to act on most their ideas. 

Still, there were things to like. There are some funny jokes throughout the show, a few of which even managed to come out of Ace’s mouth. Danger Duck was literally just Daffy and he’s always great. Ironically, Rev and Tech were the most fun to listen to, and also to watch interacting in general. Slam didn’t do much but was a sweetheart who deserves success. There managed to be some decently twisty twist villains, if only because Disney ruined my brain with their ceaseless and lazy attempts at them, and I wasn’t looking out for them in this show. And, while almost nothing was properly developed, at least the concepts and characters are fun to think about?

I can’t say I’d recommend this show to everybody, but uh... if you’re a Furry with low standards and too much free time like me, maybe you’ll like it? Just go in with low expectations so when nice things happen you’re decently surprised. 

[persephonesfill]

choke on me—chapter five

breathe me in (prequel fic)

chapter four

chapter six

a/n: i’m not going to say much, aside for a little warning that there is some violence and gore (nothing crazy) in this chapter. i’m super excited for this one and i hope you guys enjoy it! also, this chapter has my first battle scene so bear with me folks

rating: explicit

warning(s): this chapter contains violence, smut, and a little bit of gore

—————

Whatever peace they have following the carnival quickly dies when HYDRA rears its ugly head. Again. Tony hates how devoted they are to living up to their namesake. He had hoped that they would take their time to regroup after the fall of SHIELD, but apparently, four months was more than enough time. HYDRA's power ran that strong. 

Tony watches Steve throughout the briefing. He's been watching Steve a lot more lately. Ever since that ride on the Ferris wheel, he's been trying to be more open, more inviting, Steve taking to his attentions like a starving man to freshwater. Steve's all business right now. His jaw clenched, he's scrolling through the digital files JARVIS compiled for them on a tablet with a single-minded focus. His free hand rests on his knee curled into a fist. Tony can practically see the rage in him rising like a tidal wave. He can't imagine how Steve feels, to devote himself to something, to die for it, only for his sacrifice to be for naught. 

"God, these guys are like roaches," Clint says, cutting through the silence, tossing his tablet down on the table. "They could survive a nuclear winter." 

"So what's the plan here, Cap?" Natasha says, leaning forward in her chair. "You've got the most experience with HYDRA out of any of us." 

Steve sets his tablet down. "What we're going to do," he says, his voice colder than Tony's ever heard it, "is go for the head." 

"We strike fast, and we strike hard, leave them absolutely no time to recoup. HYDRA, no doubt, has a number of facilities at their disposal. We find them, and we burn them to the ground. Any operatives who surrender will be turned into the proper authorities. We don't want another Zola."

"JARVIS, can you pull up a three-dimensional render of the base?" Tony says. 

"Of course, sir," JARVIS says. 

A bright blue hologram appeared over the center of their table. Steve stands up and starts to circle it. He could practically see the wheels behind Steve's head turning, formulating a strategy from the bottom up. 

"They were smart when they made this base," Steve says. "It's incorporated into the mountain top. They'll be able to see us coming from all sides." 

Bruce speaks up. "What if we approach from the west? It looks like there's a pretty dense forest; we could use it for coverage."

"A ground assault would be suicide," Tony says, rising from his seat to take a closer look at the hologram. Steve moves over, making room for Tony to stand beside him. "They could have bunkers, watchguards, tanks, the works. We'd be fish in a barrel." 

"An aerial assault then," Thor suggests. "So we won't be caught unaware."

Steve gives the idea some thought, a muscle in his jaw working. "Tony and you could fly ahead and scout for assailants."

"That could work," Tony says. His mind is racing, running through all of the possible outcomes of their fledgling plan. The others could stay behind in the quinjet, and he had recently added retro-reflective paneling to it. "Once we give you the all-clear, we'll be right on top of them and���" 

"We'll have the element of surprise on our side," Steve finishes.

"And once we reach the base?" Natasha asks. 

"That's the easy part, Nat," Clint says. "We give 'em hell." 

*********

They finalize their plans and run them by Fury and what remains of SHIELD. They'll head out tomorrow morning, just before dawn, to catch them off guard. The others have left the war room, either to train or to get some rest. Steve sits at the table alone, the hologram casting his face in blue light. 

"Penny for your thoughts," Tony murmurs so as not to startle him. 

Steve glances at him and smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. 

"Talk to me, Steve," Tony says. "What's bugging you?" 

Steve sighs. "It'd be easier to list what isn't bugging me." 

With a sudden surge of daring, Tony steps off from where he'd been leaning against the wall and slides onto Steve's lap. Steve lets him, his hands settling on Tony's hips like they belong there. Tony wraps his arms around his neck and leans in. 

"Am I bugging you?" he whispers. 

"Never," Steve says fiercely, his grip on Tony's hips tightening. 

"That's one," Tony jokes. "Can't think of any others?" 

Steve presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Your smile." Another kiss on the tip of his nose this time, making Tony chuckle. "Your laugh." 

"Okay, Romeo," Tony says, laughing. "I get it. That's three, I guess." 

Steve smiles, a bigger one than the last one. His thumb has slid under Tony's shirt, rubbing circles into his hip. "Thank you," he murmurs. "It's just... I'm worried about the mission." 

"And why is that?" Tony asks like an idiot until he remembers that this base is located in the Alps, where so many things went catastrophically wrong for Steve. 

Steve's smile falls just as quickly as it came, and Tony kicks himself mentally for being the one to do it. "Whenever HYDRA's involved, things tend to go south pretty quick." 

"I gave my life to putting an end to HYDRA, and no matter what I do," Steve whispers, more to himself than to Tony, "they always come back. They always come back and take something from me. I'm fighting a war with no end, Tony." 

Tony cups Steve's face in his hands. "But you're still fighting," Tony says softly. "The second you stop, that's when they win. That's when there's no coming back." His thumb brushes over Steve's cheek, wiping away a stray eyelash. Sitting this close, Steve looked so young. Tony forgot that mentally, Steve was only twenty-nine. He carried himself with an age-old grace and had suffered so much…

"And you're not fighting alone. You never did. You had the Commandos," Tony says. He doesn't know where he's going with this, but he'll do anything to take that grimace off of Steve's face. 

"No one should be this alone," he thinks. 

"You have the Avengers," he continues. "You have me." 

"I've got you?" Steve asks. His voice sounds small, unsure. 

"You've got me. You'll always have me," Tony confirms. 

"I'm holding you to that," Steve says. 

"I'm a man of my word," Tony replies. 

Steve tilts Tony's head up, and they don't say anything after that. Not for a while.

*********

It's supposed to be a run-of-the-mill ambush, so of course, they're met with the modern-day equivalent of hellfire and brimstone—in HYDRA's case, a volley of gunfire. One second, Tony's flying over a mountain pass, thanking his lucky stars that his flight suit is insulated, the next a bright blue bolt of pure energy strikes him in one of his thrusters, sending him spiraling. Another shot sends Tony plummeting towards the earth in an ironic facsimile of the Battle of New York. 

The same terror grips him, that awful feeling of weightlessness and pressure all at once. He barely registers the shouts of the others over the comms before his sense finally kicks in, and he deploys the flaps meant to slow his fall. 

The impact still rattles his bones, and for an awful second, Tony swears his brain is shaking around in his skull. Whatever guns HYDRA were using had to be enhanced somehow because there's no way two shots from any old machine gun would take him out so easily. 

He's landed in a snowbank, thankfully. Tony always knew that there was a possibility that his suit would be his coffin, but he didn't want to bite the dust just yet. 

"Pepper would yell at me," he thinks, still trying to calm his racing mind down. "And Rhodey. And Happy. And Steve. Steve—"

"Iron Man? Iron Man, do you copy?" That's Steve's voice. There's an urgent note to it, almost like he's trying to stop himself from shouting. 

Tony blinks once, twice, and tries to answer him. "I'm fine, Cap. Just disoriented." 

"What's your location?" Natasha asks curtly, cutting off whatever Steve was going to say. Tony can hear gunfire in the background, and hurried commands barked out in Russian.

"Jarvis?" he asks. Tony used a separate comms unit precisely for moments like these when his suit might be compromised. "You there, buddy?" 

"Always, sir." 

Relief floods through Tony. He's not totally helpless if Jarvis is still on the line. 

"Can you send my location to the others?"

"With pleasure, sir." 

"Got it," Natasha says a second later. "I'm sending Thor to you. But first, Hawkeye, let's show these boys a little reciprocity, hm?" Natasha's voice is like ice. Tony almost feels bad for those poor HYDRA agents operating those machine guns. Almost. If only they weren't the scum of the earth. 

Tony can't see the quinjet anymore, but he can sure as hell hear it as Natasha unloads a barrage of bullets aimed directly at the turrets surrounding the HYDRA bunker. Never has he ever been more thankful for retro-reflective paneling. There's a pause in the gunfire, presumably from the HYDRA goons taking cover and Natasha ceasing her fire to allow Thor to reach him unharmed. 

In the meantime, Tony needs to figure out what he can salvage. 

"Is it just me, or do those guns remind anybody else of the Chitauri's weapons?" Clint says over the comms.

Thor lands in the snowbank, sending the snow into a flurry. He stalks towards Tony, his red cape fluttering in the wind. Lightning dances at his fingertips, and paired with the fury painting his face red, Tony would think it was directed at him. 

"Iron Man? Are you alright?" Thor asks when he reaches Tony. 

"I'm fine, just disoriented," Tony says, which is the truth. The snow broke most of the fall. Aside from a few minor cuts and bruises, he's alright. It's not the worst mission he's been on. Yet. 

"Your suit," Thor says. "Can you fly?"

Tony looks down, observing the damage. The gunfire's resumed, Natasha and Clint aiming with deadly accuracy. Good. That makes his job easier. The thrusters in his boots are shot, but his HUD and hand repulsors are still functioning. 

"Don't think so," Tony says. "Can I get a lift? I'll tip you." 

Thor chuckles, some of the fierceness in his stance deteriorating. "He's alright," Thor says. "He can still joke." 

"That's a relief," Clint says, actually sounding relieved. "Who else is gonna call me out on my bullshit?"

 With Thor's help, Tony strips out of the armor pieces that are nothing more than dead weight until he's down to his helmet, gauntlets, and chest piece. 

"Cease your fire," Thor says, wrapping an arm around Tony's waist. "We're joining the fray." And they're off. Thor's flying is different from Tony's own; Mjolnir functions as a weight, taking them into the mountain top's direction. It's completely flat on top, akin to a plateau. Every twenty feet is a gunman armed with what looks like a modified Chitauri gun. They're firing blindly, still looking out for the quinjet. "We're coming in," Tony says. "And Hawkeye, you're right. This does look like Chitarui weaponry." 

"Can you say that again so I can record it?" 

"In your dreams," Tony says. Thor lets go of Tony when they're safe to land. Tony rolls into the fall, landing in a crouch. The HYDRA gunman spots them, but before they can pull their handgun sitting at their waist, Tony's already fired two blasts from his repulsor, sending them flying. Thor sends Mjolnir flying through the machine gun, shattering it into hundreds of metal shards sparking and sputtering like the last embers of a fire. 

"One machine gun down," Tony reports. He stalks over to the HYDRA agent he shot and takes the handgun for himself. Ignoring the agent's blank, dead stare, he looks over the gun, trying to get a feel for how it functions. It's all sleek curves and silver chrome, a current of cobalt energy coursing through it like blood. He aims the gun and pulls what he hopes is the trigger at the gunner. The HYDRA agent screams as Tony's shot makes its target, charring his skin. "Make that two," Tony says. "The north side of the base is clear." 

"I'm dropping Cap off," Natasha says. "The north side is too small to land the jet." 

Mere seconds later, Steve's landing near them from seemingly nowhere, looking ready to kill. His eyes looking over Tony, "You okay?" he says, his voice rough. 

"I'm alright," Tony says. They can talk later. There's still a mission to finish. 

"There's four gunners on the western side," Steve says. "How long do you think until they call for reinforcements?"

The thundering sound of footsteps on concrete answers Steve's question. 

"Not long," Tony snarls and rounds the corner with Steve and Thor flanking him. One of the agents who abandoned the machine gun has a regular pistol aimed right at Tony. Steve moves like lightning, lifting his shield in front of Tony. The bullet ricochets and lodges into the agent's skull. 

Tony will thank him later, for now, they have to keep on moving. They need to clear space for Natasha to land. 

It's like he, Steve, and Thor have a telepathic link with how well they fight together, making quick work of the HYDRA agents and their alien weapons. "It could be a dance," Tony thinks, as they push forward. Thor wields Mjolnir with grace and finesse; it might as well be an extension of his arm. It's the hallmark of a person who's spent half their life spilling blood. Tony's the same when he has a gun in his hands, and this modified Chitauri gun is no different. Aiming and firing with the intent to kill, his weapons are all too happy to listen. And Steve, Steve fights with a dancer's grace, lethal power behind every one of his attacks. 

If he were a religious man, he could almost believe that he was meant to do this. That he was destined to fight by their side. 

The party truly starts when Natasha lands the quinjet. Bruce emerges, already going green, and it's through him that they're able to bust down the doors and breach the base. 

A fierce jolt of pride runs through him at the sight of Natasha and Clint wielding the batons and bow he made for them specifically, and he fights with a renewed sense of purpose. The HYDRA agents storm them all at once, but what's fifty men and women to six pissed off Avengers? 

The answer is nothing. The Hulk alone takes out ten agents, tossing them about like a child would a toy. Clint's converted his bow into its bo staff form while they're enclosed, keeping close to Natasha's side. 

Only four HYDRA agents remain standing when they finally surrender. The rest lie, unmoving, the smell of blood and sweat and burned skin filling the room like a sickly perfume. 

Steve sends Natasha, Tony, and Thor off with a nod, while he, Clint, and the Hulk stand guard. They have their own missions to fulfill. 

Tony and Nat find the base's command center, while Thor keeps going, muttering under his breath. 

He retracts his helmet, lets himself breathe. The air is stale and dank, reminding him far too much of Afghanistan for his taste. 

"Easy, Tony," Natasha says when she notices him hyperventilating. "We made it. We'll be leaving soon. We just need to find what we came for." 

"Right," he says. "Right." He came for SHIELD secrets; cover stories, mission files, safe houses, that sort of thing. It takes JARVIS no time at all to hack into HYDRA's system. 

As he's finishing up, he overhears Natasha say, "Oh, my God." 

Instantly he's on guard. "What's wrong?" 

As soon as he speaks, Thor comes back into the command center, his face grave. "There's something you should see." 

"But," Natasha begins. 

"I believe it might be related to what you found. Follow me." 

Tony doesn't know what he's expecting as Thor takes them down a series of hallways, the light growing dimmer and dimmer the further they go. He's not expecting a girl. At least he thinks it's a girl. It's hard to tell when their skin has been completely stripped off their body.

*********

Tony can't say he's paying attention during the debriefing. It's hard to when every time he closes his eyes, all he sees is pink exposed flesh. Thor had been looking for Loki's staff. They had let it stay in SHIELD's custody in 2012 and two years later were kicking themselves for it. He said that he tried to follow its magical signature, and it had led him to...that girl. Or what was left of her. 

When the debriefing is adjourned, he comes away with three things. First, someone ratted them out. Second, if someone ratted them out, then SHIELD was still compromised. Third, HYDRA was conducting human experimentation. 

It wasn't surprising, given their history. During the war, they had taken prisoners of war and conducted all kinds of horrific experiments on them. As far as he knew, only one made it out alive, if you could even call it living. James "Bucky" Barnes had survived HYDRA's experiments only to be subjected to a worse kind of torture. 

Seventy years and HYDRA was still the scum of the earth.

By the time Tony gets an all-clear from the medics, all he wants is to take a nice scalding shower, and he does just that. 

When he emerges from the bathroom, Tony can't say he's surprised when he finds Steve, still suited up, sitting on the couch with his helmet in his hands. 

Tony makes himself known, knocking on the wall. 

Steve's eyes flit up to meet his, and Tony's surprised to see that they're red. 

"Tony," Steve breathes his name like a prayer, and it's like someone's punched Tony directly in his chest. Every time Steve says his name like that, it always leads to something electrifying. Tony's eager to see him, eager to wipe the blood and the bodies of the day's events from his mind. 

He walks further into his living room, and Steve rises to meet him until they're standing chest to chest. Tony has to look up at Steve, but Steve's never held it over him like others. It should scare him, how small Steve makes him feel. But Tony doesn't feel helpless. 

If anything, he has the power to bring Steve to his knees. 

Steve's hands are on Tony's waist, and he's shot back to the first time they stood like this, close enough to catch each other's breath. That first time had been an exploration—an adventure in learning each other's bodies. 

Steve kisses him, hot and desperate, tugging at Tony's clothes. 

This time it's a reassurance. 

A fevered kiss—You're okay. Every fleeting touch a "stay with me."

Tony kisses him back. 

"We're okay," he whispers into Steve's mouth. 

"I saw you fall," Steve's voice cracks. "I saw you fall, and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it."

Tony cups Steve's face in his hand. Steve closes his eyes, leaning into Tony's touch. When he opens them, his eyelashes are clumped with tears. 

"I'm alive," he says. "I'm alive, and I'm here with you. That's all that matters. You and me."

Steve shudders. "God, Tony, I need—I need—"

"I know," Tony says, and the next few moments are naught but a blur. They kiss again and make their way to Tony's bedroom, occasionally stopping to feel each other up or get rid of a piece of clothing. When they finally make it to Tony's bedroom, they're both down to their boxers. 

Idly, Tony realizes this is the first time they've messed around in an actual bedroom, especially his bedroom. 

Except when Steve breaks their kiss to lift him up by his thighs and walk them over to his massive bed...when he lays Tony down gently like he's something precious...it doesn't feel like messing around anymore. Messing around put him in the mind of two teenagers fumbling around the backseat of a car, desperate to get themselves off and themselves only. 

Don't get him wrong, the desperation was there as Tony wraps his legs around Steve's trim waist, but there wasn't a selfish bite to it. 

Steve Rogers is desperate for love. His entire body thrums with it, in the way he slips his tongue into Tony's mouth and grips one of Tony's hips in a harsh grip, hard enough to bruise. It's fine, though. Steve will kiss every one of his bruises later as penance. 

Maybe Tony shouldn't engage in such strenuous activity after another death experience, but he got the all-clear from SHIELD's medics themselves. If he sustains a concussion, that's on them. 

Tony's already hard and straining against the confines of his boxers. He can feel Steve, hard and leaking pre-come through the thin fabric of his boxers. 

They could come together, just like this, hell they have come together like this, but today is different. Today, Tony almost died again, and today Steve fought like a demon sent from hell for him and—

"Oh." 

Tony loves him. 

He's in love with him. 

It's no great shock to him, not really. There's no fireworks, no lightning strikes, just a subtle shift in his paradigm, like someone zooming out on a camera. 

Steve pulls back from their kiss to look at him, and Tony's gone. From Tony's penthouse suite, he has the perfect view of the sun in the evening. It's midday, and the sun, not quite setting, casts shafts of light into his room, catching the blond of Steve's mussed hair until it shines like hammered gold.

Steve has lifted the veil off of his face, and Tony can see the reverence in his gaze untempered. Tony's stomach clenches. He feels like an animal, like some feral beast has taken up residence in his skin, wanting to claim and be claimed. 

"This is how Steve feels. This is how he's felt from the beginning." 

He's not an artist, not like Steve, but he understands the appeal of wanting to capture a moment forever in all of its rawness. He wants to get some paints and canvas and immortalize Steve precisely as he is right now: wild and devout. To him. 

Steve's thumb traces the outline of Tony's mouth and pushes at Tony's bottom lip. Steve gasps when Tony parts his lips and takes Steve's thumb into his mouth. He recovers quickly, pressing his thumb deeper into Tony's mouth. The salt of Steve's flesh coats his tongue, but for once, Tony feels like the hunter. 

Steve's thumb becomes his pointer and middle fingers. Tony sucks them, lathing at them with his tongue until they're slick and glistening when Steve withdraws them from his mouth. 

Tony blindly grasps for the drawer of his nightstand, rooting around until he finds what he's looking for: a bottle of lube. 

He passes it to Steve, who flicks open the cap with his thumb. 

"Ah," he breathes as the lube hits his skin, all cool and wet. 

Steve's fingers, slick with Tony's saliva and lube, ghost around his perineum. He's thankful he had the good sense to shower beforehand, although he couldn't have foreseen this happening. Steve always caught him by surprise. 

Steve starts Tony out slow, with only one thick finger working its way inside of him. The stretch, while familiar, takes some getting used to. It'd been so long since he'd truly been with another man. 

A second finger joins the first, stretching Tony to the point of discomfort. In the back of his mind, Tony had always known that Steve's hands were big, but having them stretch him out was an entirely different matter. 

Despite his initial discomfort, his cock is still hard, dribbling pre-come onto his stomach. 

"Breathe for me, baby," Steve says, and it hits Tony then. This is the first time they've had sex. All of their other moments had been fleeting, full of fevered grinding and hot mouths and rough hands when they had time to spare. 

Tony's naked in front of Steve, and he's in love with him, and he doesn't know what's worse. 

"Hey," Steve says softly like he's comforting a spooked horse. "Breathe." 

Tony closes his eyes and does as he's told. Some of the tension leaves his body as Steve's voice washes over him. 

"You have no idea, don't you? How gorgeous you are?"

"Tell me," Tony finds himself saying. Steve's working his fingers in and out of Tony now, searching, searching…

It's getting harder to think straight. 

"I'd burn for you," Steve says. "I want you so much, I'm fucking dizzy with it." Steve twists his fingers, and Tony sees starlight behind his eyes.

Steve's fingers are relentless against his prostate, scissoring and splitting him wide open. 

"Do that again," Tony somehow manages to gasp out. "Fuck, Steve, please." 

Steve, bastard that he is, withdraws his fingers from Tony's entrance, and if Tony whines, that's between him and God. 

"I think I like you like this," Steve says instead, pressing his fingers into the meat of Tony's thighs. A shiver runs down Tony's spine at the hungry look in Steve's eyes. 

"A wolf closing in for the kill."

"Like what?" Tony finds himself saying. 

Steve tilts his head and runs a hand up Tony's thigh until he's tantalizingly close to cupping his cock. "Desperate. Wanting. Regardless of what you want to call it, I like seeing you as wrecked as I've felt these past couple of months."

Wrecked is definitely the right word. Tony's willpower is equal to that of a Jenga tower right now. One wrong move (or right one depending on who you ask), and he'll come tumbling down, and Steve will have to pick up his pieces. 

Tony's lips part when Steve takes him into his hand, a soft gasp escaping them as he spreads the wetness of his pre-come along his cock. Heat pools low in his belly, and Tony finds himself spreading his legs wider, baring himself for Steve to use however he pleases. 

"Are you going to wreck me?" Tony says. 

Steve's grip tightens on his cock, and Tony bucks up into his fist, his hands flying up to make contact with Steve's skin. "I don't want to wreck you," Steve says, eyes burning. "I want to worship you." 

"That's blasphemous, Rogers," Tony says. Worship. Like he's something pure. Like he's someone worth loving.

In the most shocking plot twist of his life, Steve Rogers, Captain fucking America, says, "Who the fuck needs a god when I have you?" 

It's a far cry from the "aw, shucks" wholesome Irish Catholic mask Steve dons, but Tony shouldn't be too surprised. This is the same man who got him off at the dinner table. And the shower. And the helicarrier.

There's still a part of Tony that thinks he doesn't deserve it, such utter devotion, such attraction (he won't dare call it the other word he's thinking of lest he get his hopes up,) but for what seems like the umpteenth time, he decides to ignore his doubts.

"This moment is mine. If he stays, or if he leaves, this will always be mine." He'll take whatever he can get from Steve with eager hands. 

Steve's hand reaches for the lube once more, the other jerking Tony off at an agonizingly slow pace until he's truly hard and leaking pre-come all over Steve's fist. 

Steve slicks up his cock, and Tony's toes curl at the thought of all of that going inside him. He wants it, though. He wants Steve like he's never wanted anything else in his life. 

Tony isn't new to desire or lust, but the need burning inside of him like a red-hot coal consumes him in its intensity. 

"Steve, please," he says, hating the desperate chord in his voice. "Wreck me, worship me, do whatever you want, just do something." 

Steve swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, and he nods. "Fuck, Tony. Okay." 

He lets go of Tony's cock, but Tony has no time to beg because he's lining himself up with Tony's entrance. 

Tony can practically hear his heart beating in his chest over the sound of Steve's steady, even breathing. Steve presses into him so slowly, so carefully like he's trying not to break Tony in half.

"Fuck that," he thinks.

Tony cants his hips up, teasing Steve's cock, and says, "I can take it. I want you to fuck me, Steve." 

Steve's hands clamp down on either side of Tony's hips, and Tony knows he's won this round when he sees the dark look in Steve's eyes. He plunges into Tony, fucking a sharp gasp out of him. Tony's not a virgin by any means. His playboy reputation is a well-earned one. But it's been so long since he's been full. Steve's only halfway in him, and yet Tony feels like he's in his stomach. 

"Is this what you wanted?" Steve asks, withdrawing slightly to add more lube. He pushed back into Tony, the lube squelching obscenely as his hips slap against Tony's. Tony's face, his everything, is red, but he'll take it. He wants it. 

"Yes," he says, wrapping his legs around Steve's waist, effectively trapping him. "I wanted you."

"You have me," Steve says, his voice hoarse and wretched. "You'll always have me." 

Steve tilts his hips just slightly, but the change in angle is enough to make Tony clench around him as his cock presses incessantly against that sweet, electrifying spot inside of Tony. 

They both curse, Tony at the change in angle, the lightning in his blood, Steve at Tony's sudden tightness, and Steve fucks into him in earnest. 

Tony's being unmade. He's unraveling at the seams like a worn-out sweater, and Steve's stitching him back together. 

Their skin is tacky with sweat and lube, and the clean-up will be awful, but Tony doesn't care as the reality of the day hits him. Tony almost died. He almost died, and he loves Steve, and he should tell him while he has the chance. 

Steve buries his head into Tony's neck. "I almost lost you," he says, his voice breaking. 

"You didn't," Tony gasps. 

Steve doesn't say anything, just presses into Tony harder, like he's trying to seep into Tony's skin. Tony throws a hand over his mouth to stifle his moans even though it's just them, but Steve catches his hand and intertwines it with his. 

"No," he says. "I want...I need to hear you." 

Tony's toes curl as he nods and lets the moans he was holding back slip from his mouth untethered. If anything, they spur Steve on. His bed squeaks with each thrust, and Tony can hear Steve mumbling under his breath, a litany of "I need you," and "So tight, so good," and "Stay with me." 

Tony should tell him. He should tell Steve he loves him, but something holds him back. He doesn't want Steve to think it was just a spur of the moment ordeal. He wants Steve to be sure that he loves him, that his soul has completely intertwined with Steve's, that they're one. It should be perfect. 

So instead of saying I love you, he just lifts Steve's head up to look him in his face. He loves seeing the utter desperation in Steve's face, the euphoria right before he comes, loves knowing that he was the one to bring him to such heights. He sees it now. Steve's on the edge, his hair falling into his eyes, his lips all red and bitten like a smear of blood. 

"Tony, I—"

Steve never finishes his sentence as Tony's tongue slinks into his mouth. Steve moans, kissing him back. One of his hands finds Tony's cock. Tony bucks into his fist, still slick with lube, digs his nails into Steve's back until they're both falling apart. Steve comes inside him with a muffled groan, filling him with a wet heat; meanwhile, Tony feels like his brain is leaking from his ears as his come spurts from his cock and paints both of their stomachs in white. 

When Steve's hand strokes his cheek and comes away wet, Tony realizes that he's crying. Steve kisses his cheeks and his forehead and his nose, and when he finally goes for Tony's mouth, Tony lets out the softest, "Thank you." 

Steve hovers over him. For a moment, Tony thinks he's going to say those three terrifying words. Horror and excitement alike send his stomach rolling, but Steve just says, "Anything for you." 

He's not sure if he should be disappointed or relieved. 

[winryofresembool]

Things We Lost in the Fire, ch 24

aka Caleo uni au

Fic summary: Calypso starts studying at a new university, but to her annoyance her new flatmate is a loud mouthed mechanic who also likes to sneak his dog in whenever. But as she learns to know him better, she realizes they might have more in common than what she first thought. Eventually, even the darkest secrets come out…

Chapter summary: Halloween chapter, part 2.

A/N: Yay, an update! I think some of you are gonna be happy about the characters that are being introduced in this chapter... Also lots of Caleo dorkiness (and canon references) in it! And you'll get to see if you were right with your costume guesses :D

Also like I already mentioned last week, this is the last chapter that I have written so far (when I started posting this fic I tried to make sure I'd have at least 7 chapters ready so I wouldn't have to stress about deadlines... and here we are now) so it is possible that updates may slow down a bit, at least if the chapter wants to become long. But I am still /trying/ to keep up with the regular updates the best I can :) So worry not!

Now, enjoy and let me know what you think!! Ps. somehow we’ve managed to pass 50k words already :O

Words: 4040

Genre: romance & hurt/comfort

Warnings: none

previous chapter / AO3

…

“Hi, you guys!” Piper, who was dressed as Wonder Woman, greeted Leo and Calypso first when they arrived, gesturing for them to come in.

“Hello! I was afraid Argo II had decided to stop working because you guys are late,” Jason the Superman noted as he offered to take Calypso’s coat and put it in a hanger by the door.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Jason, that possibility did cross my mind as well,” Calypso said, casting Leo a meaningful look. “But no, not this time.”

“We’re only 10 minutes late!” Leo protested, checking the time from his phone. “I was busy finishing something… and Calypso took her time preparing herself as well. She probably did her wig for like two hours.” He gave her a not so serious side-eye.

“I did not!” Calypso said defensively. “Yeah, I straightened and combed and braided it but that took me maybe 15-20 minutes so he is highly exaggerating.”

“Don’t worry, Calypso, we know he does that a lot.” Piper smiled at her reassuringly. “Speaking of your wig, though, you look very cute! That hair reminds me of the style you had before my makeover. You’re dressed as the mythology Calypso, right?”

“Yes, I am,” Calypso said, pleased that Piper had figured that out so fast. “I thought it would be fun to be a bit self ironic for once. I haven’t really had a good reason to sew recently so this was a nice excuse to do that as well.” She made a small twirl to show the dress better.

“That dress really looks great!” Piper told her. “I would gladly commission you to sew me clothes; it’s so hard to find anything nice from the clothes stores these days. But Leo.” She turned back to him. “I see someone hasn’t bothered to get a costume. I wasn’t expecting that from you because you’re always so excited about them.”

“No, you got it all wrong.” Leo wagged his finger at her. “I do have it here, but as I told Cal, it would have been too difficult to wear in the car.” He dropped his bag on the floor, causing a loud thud as it hit the ground.

“Alright. Care to give us any hint what it is?” Piper asked curiously. “Seems heavy.” Calypso wondered if this was something they did every year.

“I’m just saying that it’s inspired by some movies that united us three,” Leo noted mysteriously. “But that’s all, you’ll see soon!”

“My mind is blank now,” Piper said. “Jason, what movies have we watched with him?”

“The first one that comes to my mind is Star Wars,” Jason reminded her. Suddenly both Jason and Piper’s eyes widened in realization. “Could it be?”

“Oh no, Leo you didn’t!” Piper doubled over in laughter when it occurred to her what Leo’s costume most likely was. “I can’t wait to see this!”

“I hope you took pictures with Festus!” Jason couldn’t keep his poker face either, and Calypso watched their reactions with confusion.

“Don’t worry, I will show them later.” Leo grinned, unperplexed by Jason and Piper’s laughter. “Now, where can I change?”

Piper showed him an empty room where he could get into his costume in peace, while Calypso started looking around the house on her own. Even though the place seemed rather fancy, Jason and Piper had managed to make it cozier with their personal objects. A lot of them had seen life and were worn but somehow they still fit in with the newer decorations.

As Calypso reached the living room, her focus went to the guests who had already arrived at the party. She waved at Annabeth and nodded awkwardly to Percy. Even though she and Annabeth were friends again, she wasn’t quite sure how she should act near Percy so ‘reserved’ felt the most natural reaction. She couldn’t help but smile a bit, though, when she registered their costumes: Annabeth had a Chiton just like her, although grey instead of white, with some silvery accessories and a beautiful owl shaped brooch over her chest. Perhaps the most impressive part of her costume was the Greek styled helmet that was used in battles and that hid most of Annabeth’s curly ponytail. Calypso was quite certain she was dressed as Athena, the Greek goddess that according to her was the one she identified herself the most with. Percy on the other hand was wearing sandals, shorts, a tropical shirt, and a belt with fishing equipment and he was holding a fishing rod in his hand. Calypso couldn’t quite figure out who he was supposed to be, other than some sort of fisherman.

“Hi,” Calypso greeted them as she got to hearing distance with them. “You guys look nice. You’re Athena, right?” She asked Annabeth. “Matches my theme, don’t you think?”

“Sure does,” Annabeth nodded, eyeing Calypso’s costume. “You look pretty much exactly like how I imagine the mythology Calypso.”

“Thank you. Coming from you it’s a big compliment.” She turned Percy. “I can’t figure out who you are, though. You don’t seem like a Greek god?”

“I am, though,” Percy replied. “I’m Poseidon.”

“Ooh, so that’s why the fishing gear!” Calypso realized. “But I don’t think the Greeks had tropical shirts quite yet.”

“No, you’re right in that.” Percy shook his head, smiling a bit. “But I’m basing this on the version in the Peter Johnson series. That’s how he was described in it.”

“I didn’t know you have read that too,” Calypso said, “But makes sense. Um, the Poseidon and Athena of the mythology hated each other, though. Not that it’s really my business, but I hope you two are doing fine…?” She asked a bit nervously, not wanting to be the reason for their issues.

“Oh yeah, we are,” Percy confirmed immediately. “It’s just an old joke – back when Annabeth and I were reading the Peter Johnson books I used to say Poseidon is my godly parent and Athena Annabeth’s, and that just kind of stuck with us.”

“Alright.” Calypso accepted Percy’s answer, turning her attention back to Annabeth. “By the way, where did you get that helmet? It definitely looks fancier than most of the plastic ones you see at costume shops.”

“My father collects these things,” Annabeth answered, lifting the helmet from her head for a moment. “I’ve told you he’s also a historian, right? Well, one of his friends wanted to make a replica of the ancient Greek helmets with some modern machines and dad bought this from him. I’m not saying this is 100 per cent accurate but it looks pretty cool, in my opinion.”

“It does,” Calypso confirmed.

“You came with Leo, right?” Percy asked then, to which Calypso nodded. “Where is he? I can’t wait to see his costume; he usually goes for something that is way over the top. Last year he was Hiccup from How to Train your Dragon and he had made a Toothless costume for his dog. I’ve also seen pics of him as Iron Man. Yes, with a full iron costume.”

“I can believe that of him,” Calypso chuckled, imagining Leo in the said costume. “He just went to change into his costume because apparently he couldn’t drive in it. He didn’t reveal what he was going to be, but it does sound like something extravagant.”

“I missed his costume last year but I’ll be sure to have a camera ready when he shows up this time,” Annabeth said happily. Calypso was relieved that the conversation was going this well; she hadn’t known what to expect beforehand because this was the first time she was in the same room with Percy since the ‘incident’. Talking with him now, though, made her realize that holding a grudge wouldn’t be smart and he seemed to think the same way.

“I just realized,” Calypso decided to change the topic, “that I’ve never heard the story of how you guys know Jason and Piper. So how did that happen?”

“It’s a funny story,” Percy started, smiling at the memory. “Jason and I used to be the captains of rivaling soccer teams when we were around 16. Well, one time Jason’s team was visiting us but we were playing in an arena that had just been renovated so I hadn’t been there before. I may have been a bit late from our team meeting and I was a bit lost so I decided to ask one staff lady where I was supposed to go. Somehow she got our teams mixed up and I ended up in the locker room of Jason’s team. Some of Jason’s teammates said that my expression was worth seeing when I realized the mistake but I dunno about that. The funny thing was that somehow the same thing had happened to Jason; he had also been late for the meeting because of traffic or something and he had gotten into my team’s locker room. Well, after the game we had a good laugh about it together and ended up talking about other stuff as well and noticed we have a lot in common. That’s how we became friends. When we moved into the same town, we started training together at least a few times a week.”

“Piper and I didn’t learn to know each other until Jason and she started dating a couple of years ago and they invited Percy to some party where I went with him. To be honest, I was a bit suspicious about her at first because we seemed very different but eventually we learned to respect each other’s qualities. And here we are,” Annabeth added.

“Those are some cool stories,” Calypso said. “It seems like a funny coincidence that somehow we all ended up in this city even though most of us are from somewhere else. Like Leo is from Texas, I am from Greece…” “Speaking of him,” Annabeth had to muffle his laughter with her hand, “I believe we are finally getting some answers about his costume.”

“Oh… my gods” was all Calypso could say when she turned to the direction Annabeth was looking at. “You’re really something else.”

Leo was completely hidden inside his costume, but Calypso could practically hear him grinning at their reactions. The costume looked very much like in the movies; golden (just painted, not real gold, because there was no way Leo could afford something like that) plating forming a droid with big round eyes and an ability to speak lots and lots of different languages: C-3PO from Star Wars.

“Holy shit, dude, that looks so real.” Percy gaped at Leo. “I’m starting to understand why you spent so much time in your room the past few weeks.”

“Why C-3PO, though?” Calypso asked once she managed to put her poker face back on. “Does that have some story behind it?”

“Because, duh, it looks cool!” Leo exclaimed with a mechanical voice from inside his costume. “I dunno, ever since I first saw C-3PO as a kid I thought it would be cool to be able to build something like that. And hey, his ability to translate like all the possible languages is pretty neat. Me? I just know 3.”

“Isn’t it uncomfortable in there, though?” Calypso asked. “That thing must be heavy.”

“Sunshine, I’m always uncomfortable. But this was a childhood dream of mine so I sure as heck am not backing off now,” Leo said with determination.

“A stubborn one, aren’t you?” Calypso stated. “Even I have to admit, though, that you have certainly done some thorough job with it. Hey, I should take photos before I forget! You don’t get to see this every day.”

The others dug their phones up as well and for a while Leo just made silly poses while they took pictures, clearly enjoying the attention his costume got. Eventually he started demanding that Calypso should join him for the photos but she was a bit hesitant at first.

Leo argued: “Come on. Greek mythology meets Star Wars? You don’t see a crossover like that every day.”

“Can’t argue with that, I suppose,” Calypso said and went next to him. “Well, do we have some kind of story for Calypso and C-3PO’s meeting?” she asked as Percy and Annabeth waved at them to look at the camera.

Leo considered her question for a moment. “Oh, how about this? C-3PO somehow ends up on Calypso’s island - because duh, Calypso is cursed so she can’t leave the island…”

“You seem to know surprisingly much about Greek mythology, just saying…” Calypso noted while trying to smile for the photos, resting her hand on the metallic shoulder.

“I told ya, Sunshine, you can blame tía Callida for that…” Leo reminded her. “Anyway, I imagine those two don’t really like each other at first because they’re so different but eventually they learn to respect each other’s skills; C-3PO can translate basically any language and Calypso is good at all kinds of handiworks, which is hard for a droid.”

“And? What happens after that?” Calypso asked curiously.

Leo considered it for a moment. “C-3PO doesn’t really wanna leave Calypso’s island but he has galaxies to save with his friend R2-D2 so he has to go but he promises to come get her afterwards.”

“Aw, Leo, that is kind of sweet,” Calypso commented, suddenly aware of the metal arm that had snuck around her waist. “Does he… does he ever return, though? Shouldn’t that be impossible?”

“For a human, maybe, but he’s a droid,” Leo noted. “Unfortunately during a big battle he blows up badly but the ever so faithful R2-D2 collects the pieces and finds someone who can rebuild him again. And boom, he makes it back and lives happily ever after with his goddess.”

“What’s the term you use when you enjoy a fictional relationship a lot?” Calypso asked. “Shipping?” Annabeth nodded at her. “I don’t know, Leo, to me it sounds like you ship those two. Isn’t that a bit weird?” “What, why would that be weird? I’ve seen people ship…”

“I see these two have gotten into a full on nerd mode again,” Annabeth said quietly to Percy while they were waiting for the flatmates to stop their bickering so they’d be able to take the photos. “Not projecting themselves into their characters, right?”

“No, definitely not,” Percy agreed.

Eventually Leo and Calypso stopped bickering and Annabeth was able to take the pictures. Even if Leo was mostly hidden by his costume, Calypso felt a bit self conscious about the fact that these were the first photos of them together. They did a few goofy poses because Annabeth and Percy told them to, but Calypso thought she probably looked more embarrassed than funny in them.

Once they were done, Leo went to Annabeth who was going through the photos and bowed his head a bit to see them better. “Hey, these do look pretty cool! It’s probably just the lighting but here you look like you’re blushing to some funny comment C-3PO made.”

“Show me!” Calypso yelped nervously and took the phone from Annabeth. When she saw it, she could immediately tell Leo was not wrong; she really was blushing. “Yeah, it’s definitely those candles in the background that do it… And I think it’s pretty warm in here, maybe all the people here heat this room…”

“OK, if you say so,” Leo said but Calypso imagined that he was looking at her suspiciously through his costume.

Trying to get the others’ attention to something else, she said: “So, who else has arrived so far?”

“Nico and Will. I think they went to get some snacks from the dining room,” Piper, who had just entered the room, answered.

“Leo told me that Nico is Jason’s relative, but what about Will?” Calypso asked her.

“Will is Nico’s boyfriend. This is the first time we’re meeting him but they seem very good together. At least he seems to have a grounding effect on Nico, and he actually listens to him, unlike most of us. Um, sorry, it’s a long story, one that I should probably save for another time. Nico may be a bit hard to approach sometimes but he is a very nice guy when you learn to know him. Just… been through a lot. I guess like many of us here. But he seems way happier now,” Piper said, and as if on cue, they could hear some distant laughter coming from the dining room.

“We should start a traumatized college kids’ club,” Leo attempted to joke, and the others hummed in agreement. Maybe she did belong to this group after all, Calypso thought. If only they knew, though…

“This just got cheerful,” Percy said, interrupting Calypso’s thought process. “Who’s up for blue candies? Get them before Will and Nico eat them all.”

“I heard that, Jackson!” Nico entered the room without a warning. “No offense to you or your mom but blue candies aren’t exactly my thing.”

“Hi, Nico,” Percy greeted him, seeming a bit flustered after Nico’s comment. “You haven’t met Calypso, right?” He pointed at her.

“No, I haven’t,” Nico took a quick look at her and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Alright, in that case, this is Calypso Astal. And Calypso, this is Nico di Angelo,” Percy introduced them to each other.

“Nice to meet you,” Calypso approached him, but he seemed to evaluate her for a moment before he took her hand.

“Likewise,” Nico said finally. “I think Jason has mentioned you a few times.”

“Oh. That’s nice,” Calypso said a bit unsurely, like every time she met a new person. The lonely years still had a toll on her, and even though she liked spending time with her friends, meeting new people was always a bit nerve wracking to her. “You’re his relative, right?”

“A distant cousin,” Nico answered. “Yeah, our fathers are related, but I have my mother’s last name and Jason has his.”

“I take it your mother has roots elsewhere, based on the last name?” Calypso asked.

“She was Italian,” Nico shrugged. “I lived there my first years too. But now I can barely remember those times.”

Calypso noticed the use of past tense, but she thought it was probably better to not ask about that in the middle of a party. “Oh. I’ve been to Italy a few times. I’m originally from Greece.”

“What brought you here, then?” Nico asked.

“Dad’s work,” Calypso responded in a tone that told everyone she wouldn’t elaborate on that topic more. It seemed to have become a habit to her.

“Anyway,” Leo, who had managed to stay quiet for a surprisingly long amount of time in Calypso’s opinion, stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Nico, a little bird told me,” he looked at Jason, “that your boyfriend is a Star Wars geek. Is that true?”

Nico took one look at Leo’s costume and his mouth twitched when he realized why Leo was asking. “He is, but don’t let him get started on it, or else he will never stop. Besides, he’s not my boyfriend, I prefer calling him…”

“A significant nuisance?” Will showed up from the dining room, carrying a plate full of food. “Don’t mind him, he just warms up a bit slow.”

“Yes, this is Will,” Nico sighed, addressing those who hadn’t met them before. “Sometimes he’s a nuisance, sometimes he can be quite OK. When he’s having a good day.”

“Same back at you, dear,” Will laughed. “Did I hear someone mention Star Wars, though?”

“You did,” Leo said, stepping forward so Will could see his costume better. Needless to say, Will looked beyond thrilled.

“Oh boy, here we go again,” Nico said quietly before Will even had time to comment on the costume.

“Woah, that must be the best C-3PO costume I’ve seen. And yeah, I’ve seen a few so I don’t compliment you for nothing,” Will assured.

“Thanks, man, I did spend quite a while with it,” Leo said, high fiving Will. “Glad someone here appreciates good things.”

“I still hope you’re not one of those fans who have only seen the most recent movies and not the originals,” Will noted.

“Heck, no!” Leo exclaimed immediately. “The original three for the win! Mom and I used to watch them a lot… um, when I was little. She was a big fan. But the newer ones just don’t feel the same.” Calypso had a feeling Leo had almost said something else, but he had changed his phrasing at the last moment.

“You have a pretty good taste,” Will said approvingly. Then he finally realized he hadn’t even asked Leo and Calypso’s names before getting into the geek mode.

“So, who are you two? I already met Percy and Annabeth earlier but I don’t think I know you guys yet.”

“I’m Leo Valdez, and this is my, um, flatmate, Calypso Astal,” Leo introduced. Calypso hoped there was a better word to describe their relationship than a ‘flatmate’ but at the moment it was probably the best and the safest option there was.

“Flatmates, huh?” Will repeated. “How did that happen?”

“I was in a hurry to find a roof over my head so I put in the application that I also accept mixed flats,” Calypso replied. “I didn’t meet Leo beforehand because, um, that would have been a bit difficult to arrange in this case, but it worked out OK.” Calypso noticed Leo was looking at her from the corner of his eye, and she realized she had never even talked about that option before. The truth was that she had had to plan her leaving very thoroughly so her father wouldn’t notice and she had driven to Indianapolis as fast as possible, with no time for second guessing.

“And my flat happened to have a room free because our boy Jason decided to move in with Beauty Queen,” Leo added to that story. “It’s really no stranger than that.”

“Oh, right, someone must have mentioned that you and Jason used to be flatmates,” Will recalled. “I just didn’t connect the dots.”

Jason had apparently finished welcoming the rest of the guests because he joined the group in the living room. “That reminds me, I don’t think I’ve asked you, Calypso, if Leo still leaves his dishes undone and if he has empty milk cartons in the fridge.”

“He used to do that?” Calypso asked with amusement. “After seeing his room that’s not so hard to picture, but no, he’s been pretty tidy in the common area. Although one time he bribed me to do his dishes for him in exchange for some of his food.”

“It was a good deal!” Leo protested. “You didn’t have to cook and you also got to taste some Valdez’ sizzling hot quesadillas so I’d say it was a win-win. Besides, you didn’t seem to have anything against that.”

“Alright, I will admit the quesadillas were pretty good,” Calypso conceded. “But a true gentleman offers them without even asking. Well, other than that he’s been OK,” she told Jason with a playful twinkle in her eye.

“I guess he really is able to change his habits, then,” he replied. “At least when the flatmate is someone he...”

Before Jason had time to finish his sentence, Leo intervened: “Folks, do we really have to be talking about my cleaning habits in front of people I don’t know? The first impressions are important, especially when it comes to Supersized McShizzle!”

“We’re just being honest, Repair Boy.” Calypso couldn’t resist booping his metal covered nose. Apparently she just didn’t know how to not cross the line with this boy, she sighed in her mind.

“Is that all? Where’s the feisty Sunshine I know?,” Leo said in a low tone, so the others could barely hear his comment, coming out almost flirty.

“Shut up,” Calypso answered equally quietly but held her gaze at him.

“Ahem,” they suddenly heard Piper’s voice behind them. “In case you’ve stopped with the flirting, I’d like you to meet a couple of people.”

Calypso turned to see the newcomers and as she recognized the Hunter badges both of them had attached to their shirts, something in her mind just suddenly turned off.

[bramblepeltao3]

IDK where else to put this indulgent nonsense so, as one does, I’m putting it on my Tumblr.

Hey do you like my fic where I have an OC who is a gremlin girl and do you also like the Prince!Prompto AU trope and do you want to read a few loose little narrative bits about those two things coming together? 

No?

Here it is anyway!

The clock in Prompto’s room sounded out to anyone who listened that the time was now eleven in the morning. Since it was a Thursday, this meant the start to the worst hour of his week, every week, for his whole life. 

Every Thursday at eleven in the morning, Dr. Besithia would come by for his weekly check up. The Prince would spend the time trying not to show too much emotion as the doctor used a variety of needles to inject and extract numerous fluids, all while chastising him for being a waste of his and everyone else’s time.

It didn’t matter how strictly Prompto followed the doctor’s orders, or how much control Prompto had over following them in the first place. He never got any better, and he was always made well aware that it was his own fault. The prince of Niflheim was a sickly recluse, so sheltered from the public that many would even doubt his existence. And at fifteen years old, he was lonely and listless and so very tired of living like this. 

The door to his bedroom began to open, and Prompto mentally steeled himself for another hour of angry commands, needles, and insults. 

“Dr. Besithia to see you, your highness.” The attendant said with a bow. Prompto nodded in return, sitting upright on the edge of his well cushioned bed. The least little rebellion he could maintain was forcing that unpleasant old man to come to him.

But the person who stepped through, all dressed in well ironed white, was not Dr. Besithia. Not at all. This doctor was a woman, and much younger. She bowed slightly upon crossing the threshold before making her way over to him. Prompto, in spite of himself, felt compelled to stand and greet her like the well mannered young man he was supposed to be.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, highness.” She said with a small smile. She looked sad, but gentle, and seemed to be staring at something right behind his own eyes. 

“I...I was expecting, I apologize…” Prompto was used to being ogled and visually picked apart by people. Something about her green eyes felt softer. Less invasive and judgemental. Perhaps it was all wishful thinking but her gaze seemed almost kind.

“You were expecting Dr. Besithia?” She asked.

Prompto nodded.

“You’re looking at her.” She smirked. “Doctor Delphia Besithia. Verstael is my father. I understand he was completing your weekly heath assessments, but business for his Imperial Majesty has become...pressing.” The doctor crossed the room over to the little seating area where the work was usually conducted. A clear table, two chairs, plenty of places to hook up Verstael’s array of electrical instruments. “Luckily I’m now officially a licensed medical professional myself, so I’ll be taking over for him.” 

Prompto almost couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So...Dr. Bes-...Verstael won’t be…?”

“You know, why don’t we call my father Dr. Besithia, and you can refer to me as Dr. Delphia. Does that work, your highness?” She asked, setting the large case she was carrying on the table and opening it.

“Yes. I mean, I think that would work fine. Doctor.” Prompto joined her at the table, removing his coat to reveal his bare arms and taking a seat on his usual side of the table.

“So I went over your medical record on the way over, it seems like my old man kept to the same routine every week for a long time. Not all that surprising, except he usually at least tries to change things up whenever he doesn’t get results…”

Prompto cringed. “Yeah, it’s my fault. I just wasn’t trying hard enough.” He sighed, casting his eyes to the floor. He could feel her gaze staring into him once again.

“Your fault?” She asked. “Did my father tell you that?”

He felt himself beginning to sweat. Soon she’d understand just how awful of a patient he really was, and all the gentle niceness would end. She’d grow to hate and resent him just like Dr. Besithia did, he was sure.

“Dude. That’s bullshit.”

Prompto snapped his face up to hers, the bluntness of her assertion shocking him. The doctor had such a look of concern on her face.

“He was your doctor. Treating you was his job. If you weren’t getting better, that’s his fault. Not yours.”

Prompto blinked in confusion. 

“If it makes you feel any better, and I doubt it does,” she started retrieving the same instruments he was always used to, “he’s like that with everyone. Everything is always someone else’s fault. No way his genius could be to blame!”

By her tone, Prompto inferred she’d suffered at his words just as much.

“So, let’s start with the easy part. How are you feeling today, your highness?” She asked, taking the other seat and smiling at him.

“How...um, well I’m…” Prompto was not prepared for this question. Easy part, indeed. “Tired, I guess. Like usual. I get dizzy if I stand too long.” And now his heart was pounding in fear. Did he answer wrong? Was that something he could do?

She was typing on a tablet resting in her lap. “Hmm, how about sleep? Do you think you get enough?”

Dr. Besithia never gave Prompto so much time to talk like this. It felt...strange. “I sleep a lot.”

“Do you feel well rested after? Or still tired?” She asked, still typing.

“Oh, uh...I guess I haven’t really thought of that? I’m sorry...guess still tired.”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize for anything, highness. Okay, if it’s alright with you I’d like to start taking your vitals now.”

...did she just ask him permission? She did. And she was waiting for his answer. 

He nodded. And the next thing to strike him was just how gentle she actually was. She never grabbed, but waited for him to offer his arm or hand as needed. She didn’t yell or snipe or speak critically of him. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this. It was oddly terrifying, somehow.

“Alright, your blood pressure is a little low, so we can start with that. There’s a few simple things we can change to try and get it stabilized. Hopefully that will help with the dizziness too!” 

Prompto sat in stunned silence as she prescribed such basic things like drinking more water and adding salt to his meals. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. It felt...too easy. After years of living like this, there was no way it could actually be so simple.

“Unfortunately I am going to need to get some blood for lab work, if that’s ok, highness.”

He felt like he might cry. She actually listened to him, and asked him to talk to her. If she really was replacing Besithia going forward, maybe things would actually get better. Maybe... He hoped she never got sick of him, and he’d do everything he could to prevent that.

“You can call me Prompto, um, Doctor. Please.”

She looked at him strangely, like he’d just told her there was a behemoth on her shoulder. But then she smiled again. “Why don’t you call me Del then, Prompto? Has anyone ever told you you have great veins? This is going to be so fast.” And surprisingly, it was. The whole ordeal was over so quickly he couldn’t believe she’d actually done it.

“Alright, unless there’s anything else you’d like to discuss, I think that ends our appointment today.” She began packing everything back up. “And if anything comes up at all, I’m only one floor away!”

“Wait, really?” Dr. Besithia always made a point of reminding him he had to travel a long way for these appointments.

“Yeah, I’m here at the palace full time. Another perk of the job. If you need anything at all, just ask your attendant. I’m here for you Prompto, any time.”

It took everything in him to maintain some amount of regal composure and not start crying. Somehow, for the first time, he had hope. And if nothing else, there was someone here who might actually listen to him.

---

Delphia bowed to the prince before turning and walking to the elevator. She held herself together perfectly until the elevator doors closed behind her and she was granted ten seconds of complete isolation. An hour’s worth of suppressed, extreme emotion bubbled out all at once in a large gasp for air. Her chest felt tight and her eyes burned with the threat of tears.

You have to do this. You have to do this. You have to be here for him, because no one else will.

Delphia composed herself just as the doors opened again. It was another two minutes before she made it to her office which she thankfully had to herself. She opened the door and flipped on the light.

And really, she should have expected that she wouldn’t actually get to be alone just yet.

“Doctor Besithia, how is our young charge on this day?” Chancellor Izunia, hat in hand, bowed to her.

“Terrible, but you already knew that didn’t you Ardyn?” She didn’t have time for his fanciful speech patterns and flowery prose right now. She had samples to run.

“Looking a bit red eyed yourself, Delphia. Hard first day on the job?” He tailed her to the workstation, watching carefully as she washed and gloved her hands.

“Why do you always ask questions you already know the answer to?” She asked, getting the little centrifuge ready to go.

“The same could be asked of yourself, Doctor.”

She sighed. “My father’s been purposefully keeping him ill. Or at least below a functional baseline.”

“You’re certain?” Ardyn asked like a child giddy about knowing the punchline to an old joke.

“Verstael did the same tests, same treatments, same everything over and over again despite no improvement. There’s only one reason you don’t change up the treatment plan.”

“Because it is working as intended.” Ardyn smiled in that wicked way that made her feel like a small rabbit being eyed by a wolf.

But this rabbit had an understanding with the wolf. 

“Exactly. But here’s what I find really interesting.” She looked up from the samples currently shaking at a dizzying rate in the machine. “Whatever was going on, you wanted it to end.”

“Oh do walk me through your process of deduction, Delphia. Your brain is always so intriguing to pick.”

She rolled her eyes. “Cut the shit. You knew I’d see these numbers and figure out what was happening immediately.” She pointed at him accusingly. “When the Emperor gave Father his orders, you made damn sure I was the one who took his place.”

“Who better to take over the father’s work, than the daughter?”

“My graduating class had 44 other young doctors who would have been eager and willing to take up his job and do it unquestioningly. Exactly at his direction, no critical thought or deviation. And you insisted on the one singular doctor who, you knew for a fact, wouldn’t. And that, Ardyn, is the most suspicious thing of all.”

“You do wound me, young one. But all the same please go on, I am on the edge of my seat.”

She considered not continuing, just to piss him off. But she couldn’t resist any opportunity to show off. It was a problem. So on she went. 

“Verstael takes pride in his projects, particularly the ones he...made from scratch.” She felt sick, thinking of the thousands of lives just like Prompto. His life was anything but easy, but it was worlds above that of his many, many brothers. “If he was interfering with the prince’s health on purpose, it must be because someone above him told him to. And there’s only one person who could tell him to do anything.”

Ardyn smiled, somehow even wider.

 She began the process of sterilizing her instruments, taking her time with each.

“The Emperor wants the Prince to waste away in poor health, hidden from the public and with zero sense of self worth to boot. Which is curious, since the Emperor was the one who commissioned a prince in the first place! Which leads me to believe Iedolas wanted this from the start. So. Why create an heir and then sabotage him?”

“Perhaps because the heir is meant only to act as a symbol.”

“Mmmhmm.” Del had considered as much. Hearing it from the chancellor cemented it. “A means of reminding the people the monarchy is here to stay. But Project Deathless is right around the corner, or so Father claims. And if it comes to fruition, then Iedolas is the monarchy. Forever.”

“Who needs an heir when you never plan to retire?”

“Who needs an heir beloved by the people, capable of leading and inspiring a coupe before you have a chance to gain immortality?”

“In the meantime, the chain of succession is decided by blood.”

“And the snakes in the cabinet can’t finagle their way into increasing power, at least not as easily.”

“Delphia I do love our conversations, not many can keep up quite like you.”

“Like father, like daughter.” She sighed. “So where do you come in, Ardyn? What do you get out of Prompto getting better?”

“Is it not enough to see a poor child suffering, and wishing to see him well again?”

“No, it’s not.” She replied, despite the unsaid implication hanging above them. Once, she was that suffering little child. And he healed her bruises and did what was needed to get her out of that hell hole. But that was a long time ago. And they were both very different now.

Ardyn hummed in response. “I would like to hear the good doctor’s hypothesis before the big reveal.”

She sighed. This man was so exhausting. But he was the only person worth talking to, somehow. “I think it's suspicious because you have no interest in the throne. Well, not this one at least.”

“And…” He smirked, telling her she was on the right track.

“And what a coincidence that our little prince is the same age as Lucis’ little prince.”

“What a coincidence indeed!”

The centrifuge stopped, the samples were ready for testing.

“I think you have a use for him in your little tirade against the Astrals and your brother’s descendants.” She snarled.

“And what use would that be?”

“I don’t know.” Delphia leaned over the workstation, looking Ardyn in the eyes. “But whatever it is you’ve got planned, if it ends with Prompto hurt or dead, I’m putting a stop to it. Now.”

Ardyn clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Now now, Delphia, you wound me.” He clutched his hand over his chest in mock insult. “Such accusations. I know you too well, little finch. The guilt you feel, unable to end your little brothers’ suffering. It tears at your weak, mortal heart. I have brought you to one who may live, and perhaps even prosper, with your guiding hand and sharp mind. I have no intentions of causing the boy further harm.”

Del didn’t believe that for a moment. Not because he was a liar, though he was certainly lying. She knew what lurked through the chancellor’s veins. What was eating him from the inside out, slowly, with every breath he took. It was getting worse, warping him. He was not the same man who befriended her fifteen years ago. Though bits of that man were still in there. And she knew if she just continued to play along, did what she could to keep those bits floating around alive, she’d get that friend back.

She just needed some more time.

---

“Commodore! Fucking finally. I have a request.” Delphia shouted across the courtyard, having finally found the woman after an hour of chasing down lead after lead.

“Interesting way of approaching someone. Mind an introduction first?”

Delphia tempered her knee jerk instinct to say something rude. “My name is Doctor Besithia, I assume you’re familiar with my father?”

“You mean the quack keeping the prince weak and at his mercy?”

Oh, she liked this woman. “Yep. Well, used to. I’m the prince’s personal physician now.”

“You planning on keeping up daddy’s work, Doc?” The Commodore crossed over to her, looking down with suspicion.

“Not quite. I’ve been going over his notes and I think there might be some...room for improvement. But I might need your assistance.”

Aranea shrugged her shoulders. “I’m a bodyguard, not a nurse. When the prince can leave his bedroom then I’ll have a job to do. Until then-”

“That’s exactly why I’m asking for your help, Commodore.” Delphia smiled. “The prince needs to leave his bedroom.”

“Uh huh. But can he?”

“Yes.” Delphia smirked up at the taller woman. “We’ve been working on it for three weeks, but he’s more than ready now. Of course, he’s not supposed to go anywhere without his retainers. Specifically the one that knows how to hit things with a stick.”

Aranea crossed her arms and frowned. “You’re telling me, after less than a month, Prince Shortcake is already improving?”

And this is where Delphia wanted the conversation to be. She needed to know who could be trusted, and who was in on the whole charade. Where did the true loyalties of the prince’s shield lie?

“Yeah. And if he’s going to keep getting better, he needs fresh air and sunlight. Vitamin D doesn’t make itself, you know. So, you ready to get to work, Commodore?”

Aranea studied Del’s face, obviously searching for answers to the same questions.

“Alright, Doc. Show me a miracle, and we’ll have ourselves a casual little stroll.”

Fantastic.

---

“Fifteen minutes.” Del reassured the two of them. “That’s all you need. Fifteen minutes in direct sunlight with bare arms, that’s more than enough time to get your daily dose of Vitamin D.”

Prompto felt like his heart could beat right out of his chest. It’d been so long since he’d left the palace walls. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time. The doctor was on his left, keeping a close eye on him. Most likely observing his physical state while he walked around. 

On his right was Aranea, keeping an eye on everyone else in the courtyard. He hadn’t seen her in so long, he almost ran over to hug her before remembering his manners. She’d been like a sister to him when he was younger. But the weariness of the past seven years took just as much of a toll on her as it had on him.

Behind them, a guard was pushing a wheelchair. It was Del’s idea and insistence. “Just in case.” She said gently. “And there’s no shame in needing to use it.”

He might need it sooner than later, as everything around him was becoming overwhelming. The smell of fresh growing flowers, the sun on his face warming his skin, the light chatter of palace staff meandering around, their shoes clicking on the stone below.

It was making him dizzy.

“Yep, alright dude, easy now.” Del took his hand and helped guide him to the waiting wheelchair. “Take a few breaths, let me know what you need.”

Aranea did not look happy. “Is he alright?”

“I’m fine.” Prompto yelped, sitting up straighter. “I’m fine I’m just, it’s...a lot.”

“I bet.” Aranea smirked down at him.

“Are you okay to stay outside a little longer?” Del asked, voice filled with concern. 

All of this positive attention was going to make him just about pass out. 

“Yes. I’d like to, at least.”

Del smiled and put a hand on his forehead, wiping the hair from his eyes. “Alright, we’ll keep on. Just give me a heads up when you need to go back inside.”

He nodded. Prompto let the guard push him forward, watching little birds flicker through the sky and listening to his doctor and his shield have a not so private conversation between them.

“Well, credit where it’s due, Doc. Guess the Hippocratic oath still means something.”

“So then, about my proposal…”

“Count me in. Shortcake’s long overdue for some combat training.”

“Gradual, structured, short session combat training.”

“Yeah, I got it the first time.”

“With a lot of padded mats and-”

“Doc, you worry about his bone marrow count or whatever it is you do. Let me do my job.”

If he wasn’t already light headed, that would’ve sent him right over. He’d dreamed about getting to swing a sword around or hold a shield just like one of his father’s soldiers. In fact when he was still little and full of energy, he and Aranea would pretend spar with sticks or paper tubes for hours on end.

He’d all but abandoned being able to do that ever again. And now.

Del stopped and turned to look at him, smiling, her green eyes radiating warmth. “How you doing, Prompto?”

Aranea turned, crossing her arms, awaiting his response. And for the first time in forever she wasn’t looking down at him with pity. He hadn’t seen her look so content since they were kids.

Prompto nodded, smiling even wider. “I’m great.”

---

Cor was in complete disbelief. Not for the reason everyone else in the situation room was, oh no. While everyone else was staring mouth agape at the first recorded proof the prince of Niflheim actually existed, he was focused on the young woman walking next to him. The image wasn’t the closest, or clearest, but there was no mistaking.

That was Del Besithia, the six year old shit head daughter of Verstael, who treated an Imperial military research facility like her personal gymnasium. The little girl who called Cor a ‘dumbass’ in many colorful different ways. The kid who was so lonely and so deluded that she truly believed an army of clone babies were her brothers.

He’d tried so hard to get her to trust him, to get one of those babies to him so they could figure out what exactly was going on. In the end, she bailed on him, and Cor went home empty handed save a few photos of babies sleeping suspended in large cylinders.

From the looks of things, one baby did manage to get out though.

Incredible, really. Seeing the two of them standing next to each other, it was so obvious to anyone who knew what to look for. It was so obvious to Cor; the prince was one of those clones. And his ‘sister’ was his personal physician.

She looked happy. And sure, one still photograph couldn’t fill in a 14 year gap. But she was smiling, and with one of them, and she was walking freely outside. She’d told Cor with zero hesitation she knew she was going to die in that facility.

The look on her face when she made that statement had haunted him since. Maybe this one could replace it. She was fine. She was alive and okay.

There wasn't anything else he could’ve done for that kid.

“To be fair, hardly anyone ever saw Iedolas before he took the throne. And by that point he was already greying.”

“And we have no leads on who the mother could be. The lack of resemblance means nothing; the boy wears the Imperial regalia. That’s all the confirmation required.”

“Yes, but what if-?”

“That’s their prince.” Cor finally spoke up, hoping to end the back and forth guessing games. “Looks to be Noctis’ age as well. Prompto Aldercapt. Keep our eyes on him, I want to know his political and moral leanings before he has a chance to use them.”

The meeting adjourned, and his agents filed out. Cor had more business to get to. Training Gladio, overseeing the new recruits orientation, a briefing on the status of the wall, another briefing on the growing demon population…

He took another look at that photograph. Looking at Del smiling down at the prince, both of them looking happy and peaceful. There was something...pulling at him. Like a fist gripping his heart and trying to rip it from his chest. Something felt very wrong, a lingering threat aimed directly at them. Cor couldn’t tell why, but he knew they were in danger, and in spite of his loyalties he felt like he needed to protect those two. 

It was a strange impulse, maybe even something of an instinct. He couldn’t place its origin but he had a feeling a cigarette and some sleep would help dispel it.

Or...

---

“So...guns, huh?” Del frowned, watching as the prince shot off another round down the firing range.

“Your prescription of sunshine and lollipops-”

“I didn’t prescribe lollipops-”

“-can only do so much. He’s lacking the coordination for hand to hand combat, and swords wear out his stamina too quickly. A gun is lighter, easier to handle, and keeps him out of reach of more conventional weapons.” Aranea looked very pleased with herself.

“Well...at least he’s wearing ear protection.” He was also standing with a more determined posture than when they’d first met. And his skin was starting to show a little color, freckles not unlike her own dotting his cheeks and shoulders. 

“Emperor dropped in yesterday.” Aranea sighed.

Del felt her stomach drop. If the hypothesis she’d shared with Ardyn was anywhere close to correct, this was bad.

“Prince Shortcake shrank in his shadow, like the past few months never even happened.” The shield began chewing on her thumb, furrowing her brow. “Iedolas just grunted, looking as pissy as ever, and walked away. Poor kid. He’s still got a long way to go on that confidence.”

“You’d think the guy would be even a little bit happy his son was getting better.” Del shrugged her shoulders, hoping the anxiety wasn’t evident in her voice.

Aranea narrowed her eyes, studying Del for a moment. “You know, I really don’t get who you think you’re fooling.” She said before turning back around, walking to the prince to continue coaching his form.

Del blinked. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

---

“Like, seriously, what the fuck was that supposed to mean?” She asked, several hours later, pacing in her office while flipping through her notes.

“The mind of the Commodore is a mysterious one.” Ardyn had once again invited himself in, leaning back in her chair, boots resting on her desk. “But little finch, you have not been the most subtle in your intentions. There are whispers, you know…”

“Intentions?” She snapped. “Oh how terrible, I want the prince to not wither away and die in his bedroom at the age of sixteen. What fucking whispers, Ardyn?”

“The daughter of Verstael schemes to make the prince completely reliant upon her, such that when he overthrows his father and takes the throne he will do so at her own whims.”

Del pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache rising up. “I’m getting real fucking sick of politics. It’s like no one can do a single nice thing without having some wicked ulterior motive! It’s bullshit.”

“You have seemingly worked miracles, Delphia, in the eyes of the court.” Ardyn flicked at the brim of his hat to get a better view of her. “That is always suspicious.”

“Miracles. Intentions. All I did was treat my patient. I’m...I just want my brother to be healthy! Any sister would want that, much less one with a medical license. Is that so fucking terrible?!” Del was going to snap. Nothing about anything was ever easy in this godsforsaken hellscape of a country.

Ardyn lifted his eyebrows, eyes flickering to the door, before lifting a finger to his lips.

Del got the message. Someone was listening. And they heard...that. Slowly, quietly, she started to step towards the door. She gestured at Ardyn, asking him to talk so it wasn’t obvious they knew.

“Your heart is pure as always, little finch. But when one is steeped in their own darkness for so long, well…”

Del wrenched the door open and shot her head out, seeing no one but hearing fast paced foot steps.

“Darkness tends to be all one can see.”

She took off, down the long hallway, turning the corner. Nothing, not even a sound of a door. Whoever just heard her stupid ramblings, they got away. 

“I did warn you to be careful.” Ardyn said from behind her shoulder.

“Yeah.” Del swallowed hard, catching her breath. “You did.”

---

[nexstage]

STARLESS

Peridot: Nowhere to fit

For someone like Peridot, problems of any kind could always be solved by cleverness and perseverance.

Something broke? She could fix it. A new building needed to be built? She knew how to start. Someone had a plan to improve Little Homeworld? She had the resources to make it true in a snap.

However, bringing Steven back after everyone was told that he left was a challenge Peridot never expected to face. It happened so quickly. Bismuth, her and Lapis were informed by the freaked out Crystal Gems that Steven was gone as his car and some clothes of his. Lapis immediately flew away to try to find him, she felt that her blue companion could understand Steven's reasons to leave on some level despite the absurdity behind the mess.

Bismuth stayed with Pearl, who was an emotional avalanche, and she, Garnet and Amethyst got some gems Steven had befriended to create a rescue group, just in case the kid was found in serious trouble. Still, none of their efforts were enough to find him. Not even Lapis', who returned somber and at the edge of an anxiety attack.

What stroke Peridot most was why Steven would do something like this. Quitting his teacher career on Little Homeschool wasn't a red flag for her as she knew that taking charge of everything sometimes was exhausting, so he needed a good vacation. Spending time in things he liked didn't seem bad either, as everyone had hobbies. But the root of the problem wasn't those activities; it was Steven's volatile and closed-off behavior.

The things he said about the Crystal Gems and himself: the reason to be needed, Amethyst being too mature to get why he felt like he felt, Pearl blaming herself for him to just pick the pieces, Garnet's almighty pieces of advice that didn't help at all. Yeah, there was too much baggage on those statements. Peridot, though, got a very weird but sounding conclusion about why he said what he said.

This pattern of behavior reminded her of her own struggles to adapt when she resigned to her fate to be stuck on Earth with their once-former-enemies. Back then, she was just like anyone else of her kin before Era 3: a Yellow Diamond-loyalist Peridot with duties to fulfill, too many problems in her way and too little time. Dealing with the fact that her limb enhancers had been rid of was annoying and frustrating, but the fact that she had to work with a bunch of rebellious off-colors that were supposed to be dead was another story.

Everything on Earth was so different, so confusing. A Pearl who could build machines and didn't receive orders from anyone, an overcooked Amethyst with a vulgar foreign language, a crossed-fusion who acted so freely and a hybrid of a gem and a human? Where was she, in a circus from another planet?

Whatever. She wanted to live, not be shattered by the Cluster, so if Peridot had to become an ally of those clods, so be it.

However, life got more difficult when she found out via communicator that her oh-so-logical Diamond wasn't that perfect as she thought but a flawed, emotional person.

After that, the flow of things and confusion took a hold on her life. Without Diamond's orders, a caste system, her limb enhancers and with the fact that her new home would be the same planet she despised and worked hard to destroy, what was Peridot going to do?

Everyone seemed so content and secure about their lives, even if it went out of the model set for them. Something she had trouble to grasp because, if no one told you what to do, what were you supposed to do then? There was no system, everyone acted so independently but with a teamwork spirit, it baffled her totally.

Peridot, at first, thought the Crystal Gems and especially Steven were utterly delusional. I mean, how could they go on so smoothly in the chaotic disorder they were so immersed to? It was as if they were mismatched pieces of a puzzle trying to fit with each other and not seeing it didn't work.

However, time showed her otherwise. Pearl could fit without being someone's possession, and her mechanical and technological knowledge wasn't product of copying from superior gems, but from her own hard work.

Amethyst felt at home, not because of the technicality of being made on the Prime Kindergarten on Earth, but because she was let to be herself and had people who cared for her.

Garnet didn't need to hide or feel self-conscious because she was in an environment where differences weren't deemed as something to punish but to celebrate.

And Steven, the one who Peridot owed the many opportunities to show her true self and her abilities, he was so carefree and accepting. He made her feel that the impossible was possible no matter if you thought you were powerless.

With his help, many gems learned that they didn't need to be pieces of some square-minded puzzle, but the complements of themselves and each other to create a whole, beautiful picture.

Now, sadly, the picture was in half because Steven was gone.

Steven, who was the sole cause that their lives had some meaning.

Steven, who taught her she could be more than a mindless, Diamond-loyalist Peridot and find her own powers and identity.

Steven, who established peace between Earth and Homeworld, and even created a place for gems who wanted to start again.

Steven, who gave them hopes to fit without being matched pieces.

But he started to see himself as a mismatched piece of an old puzzle who couldn't find a place to belong despite having so many people loving him. Ironic, right?

What did Steven see in all his success and the gems he helped that made him feel so out of place?

She never noticed something wrong on him until the news of his departure came, though the root of the issue was still elusive to her.

He should've been happy to accomplish things that were deemed impossible. He faced the Diamonds and changed their minds for star's sake!

It was so frustrating! She felt the answer was there, in all those comments towards the Crystal Gems and his very out-of-place behavior, but another factor needed to be found to see the full picture.

But what was it?

"Thinking about Steven again?" Lapis' voice got her by surprise and Peridot looked at her friend. Her blue eyes were darkened by sadness, tear tracks decorated her cheeks and her posture was resigned and depressed.

Instantly, Peridot took her hand to make her feel a bit better which Lapis appreciated "Yeah, a bit. No, a lot. It doesn't make sense! HE doesn't make sense at all! Why would he leave?! Why would he feel like this?! If it weren't for him, none of this -Little Homeworld, Little Homeschool, living in peace- wouldn't have happened. Why not enjoy it?!"

"Maybe he did enjoy it, but... But something else got in his way and now he doesn't know what to feel any more"

"How could you know?! He hadn't told anyone about this! Not even the same people who raised him since he was a baby!"

"I'm not saying I know with total certainty. I just feel it"

"Feeling doesn't help to bring him back!!" Peridot yelled enraged. Lapis flinched a bit but didn't say anything, just stared at her friend.

"Sorry, sorry. I got carried away"

"It's alright" Lapis places a hand on Peridot's shoulder to try to comfort her "I miss him too. I wish I could have known about how he felt before this happened"

"I have some ideas of why he left, but it will sound silly"

"It's ok, maybe we can understand better and use it to find him"

"It's not a clue to find Steven but a list of reasons why he did what he did. Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong or just exaggerating, but I think he is struggling with the many things that have transpired around him which had never happened, you know? I mean, this is Steven we're talking about! He is the guy who helped us to adapt on Earth, encouraged us to be and do better, to feel at home on a foreign planet. Now though..."

"Roles have inverted. It's Steven now who felt like he can't belong here, like all the changes around him are just pushing him out of everyone's help"

"Which is absurd! He belongs here with all of us!"

"Remember how we used to despise Earth because it reminded us of all the trouble we went through?" Peridot nodded "Maybe Steven is remembering something nasty when seeing everyone living so well their lives, though what that's what I want to know"

"Me too. Besides, yeah, we have been attacked by Spinel, there are many gems unhappy with the changes made by him, but Steven had always been so optimistic. Why stop now? Why-why leave?" The pent-up emotions were so much for Peridot that some tears rolled down her cheeks. Lapis side-hugged her and sighed.

"Steven always fit everywhere he went" Peridot said with a shaky voice "I remember how he wanted us to be ourselves so we could adapt better, no rush. But, if what he said about Garnet, Pearl and Amethyst during that cactus incident is proof enough, then did he really felt like he never belonged or fit with all of us? With his own family and friends?"

"I don't know... Perhaps, it didn't last that long as he thought"

Peridot deflated even more. It was the biggest and most tragic irony.

[adolphuslongestaffe]

Like it Always Should Have Been

How do you tell your best friend you’re in love with him? The answer, of course, is you don’t. Because in real life, people don’t fall in love with their best friend and hide it for years and let it fester like an infected tooth until every smile hurts so bad they give up and confess just to be rid of the ache. If they do, it doesn’t end in a nice way. Friends don’t tend to respond well to, “I’ve been secretly in love with you all these years when you thought I was your best friend. Surprise!” Because that’s creepy as fuck.

But what if you really were his best friend and you loved him like a brother, and those other feelings were something that grew out of that. Slowly, over long years of seeing each other through trial and hardship, sticking together through thick and thin, and by the time you even admitted it to yourself, you were too far gone to do anything about it. And what if you felt like a piece of shit for letting him think he was still just a pal to you, so you decided to tell him, no matter how he might react, because you had to get it off your chest.

And what if you kept meaning to tell him, but every time you were just getting up enough courage to do it, a war happened. Or you were kidnapped by Nazis. Or you fell off a train and sort of but not really died and then came back brainwashed seventy-odd years later and tried really hard to kill him. Like, seriously, you shot him a bunch of times, then beat the living shit out of him with your cybernetic arm. You did drag his heavy ass out of that river, though. Hypothetically.

The point is, people don’t secretly fall in love with their best friend, wait seven decades to tell him, do all that shit with the Nazis and kind of dying and coming back and shooting and punching, and then confess their love and expect to get back a “holy shit I love you too” and live happily ever after. It doesn’t happen. It especially doesn’t happen when your best friend is Captain fucking America, and you’ve been sleeping on his pull-out sofa for three months because, technically, you’re a dead Soviet assassin with no credit score or bank account, and that doesn’t look great on a rental application.

This was absolutely not the situation James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, formerly-deceased war hero and currently-unemployed ex-assassin found himself in. Even if he had found himself in such a hypothetical conundrum, he would never have dreamed of admitting it to said hypothetical best friend, because, as previously stated, that doesn’t get you a happy ending in real life.

In real life, you shut the fuck up, be grateful you’re not locked up in a steel box for the safety of your fellow man, and try not to stare at Steve’s perfect ass while he’s cooking steak and eggs. Again. It’s like he doesn’t eat anything else. Hypothetically.

Bucky, being the pragmatic, real-life type of man, swallowed his excellent black coffee and Steve’s passable steak—and godawful scrambled eggs—and kept his feelings and his eyes to himself. Just like his dad taught him. In 1935. Because that’s what real men do. Or, they did in the 1930s. He’s seen an awful lot of men crying and talking about their feelings since he woke up out of that fucking nightmare.

“Hm?” he said, emerging from his reverie just in time to realize he was being spoken to, and hadn’t heard a word of it. “Sorry, what’d you say? My mind was…wandering.”

“You’re getting senile, old man,” Steve said, waving the cast-iron pan at him. “I asked if you want some more eggs. I made plenty.”

“Oh, no thanks. I’m watching my figure, you know?”

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Buck,” Steve admonished, with that mixture of paternal firmness and youthful buoyancy that only he seemed capable of. He walked over to the table and scraped another helping onto Bucky’s plate anyway. “Your body is an engine and if you don’t fuel it properly, it won’t keep running. Now eat your eggs.”

Steve sat down and dug into his breakfast with hearty enthusiasm, while Bucky took up his fork and poked at the yellowish pile on his plate. He’d just gotten up enough resolve to shove a rubbery wad into his mouth and start chewing through them, when Steve burst out laughing.

“What?” Bucky frowned. “What’s the joke, wise guy?”

“Buck, why don’t you just admit you hate the eggs?”

Bucky blinked. “Why don’t I—wait, you knew?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, though his laughter. “I’ve been watching you struggling to choke them down for three months.”

“Oh, I am going to kick your ass to the moon, Rogers, you rotten little sneak! Why didn’t you say something before?”

“I wanted to see how long you’d keep it up, but it’s just getting mean at this point. Why didn’t you say something?”

“I was being polite!” Bucky exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Your face wasn’t. You’re not very hard to read, for a spy. Everything in there is all out here,” Steve replied, gesturing toward Bucky’s cranium and face respectively.

Bucky’s traitorous face, of course, flushed with heat at the idea that what was going on in his head was so plainly visible to Steve, which made his war buddy and best friend laugh even harder.

“I wasn’t a spy, I was an assassin,” he grumbled into his mug. “You don’t have to hide your feelings from people you’re gonna kill anyway. Sorry about the eggs. I didn’t want to offend you.”

“It’s just eggs, why would I be offended?” Steve said, hopping up to clear the dishes. “You have to learn to say what you’re thinking, though, Buck. That’s how people are nowadays. They expect you to be a lot more forward than the way we were taught. Otherwise, they won’t know what you really want.”

Bucky decided he’d best disregard this advice for the moment, since what he really wanted was for Steve to stop talking and put his mouth on his mouth, and there was no way he’d ever heard of to say that kind of thing to another man without getting socked for it. He turned to look out the window, lest his apparently legible face divulge this tidbit to his friend, and sipped morosely at his coffee.

“How you doing?” Steve asked, as he reseated himself at the table with a glass of milk, which he still insisted upon drinking with every meal. “You feeling up to this thing tonight?”

From anyone else, this kind of treatment would’ve made Bucky’s stomach turn. Steve, however, had more than earned the right to frankly address his condition, and his particular brand of steady, tenacious concern didn’t carry the same sting as would the saccharine sympathy of others.

“I’m doing as well as usual,” Bucky answered stiffly, pre-WWII habits regarding talking about feelings being hard to break. “I’m not sure about the thing tonight, though. Dr. Barenbaum thinks I need to try some low pressure social situations before I jump headfirst into trying to make friends.”

“That’s why it’s perfect,” Steve smiled. “It’s just a casual get-together. They do this kind of thing all the time.”

“I don’t know if hanging out with the Avengers in Stark Tower counts as low pressure. Maybe for you, but you’re Captain America. I’m just…the guy who tried to kill Captain America.”

“No, you’re my best friend, a war hero, and an original Howling Commando. There wouldn’t even be an Avengers without you guys and every one of them knows it.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky said, wavering.

“Come on, Buck, you have to come,” Steve cajoled, amping up the intensity of his already devastating smile. “I told them you’d be there. Besides, I need another old guy around to not get anyone’s references with me.”

“Ugh…alright, fine. But I’m gonna sit in the corner and look really dark and broody the whole time.”

“You will if you want me to entertain everyone with stories about you from when we were kids. I think they’d enjoy hearing about the time you threw up on the Cyclone at Coney Island.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would.”

“You’re a real hardass, Rogers, you know that?”

“That’s what they tell me,” Steve said, looking eminently pleased with himself.

Bucky raised a doubtful eyebrow “Do they really?”

“Well…no. But they would if I weren’t so intimidating. I am their boss, you know.”

“Yeah, you keep saying.”

“And you keep not being impressed by it. Would it kill you to fake a little starstruck giddiness?”

“I think it might.”

“Ok, but you have to at least act like you think I’m cool at the party.”

“Nope,” Bucky said, getting up to carry his mug to the sink. “They’ll see right through that.”

“I changed my mind,” Steve called after him. “You’re uninvited.”

“Well, now I’m definitely coming.”

    Several hours later, just after sunset, Bucky found himself standing before the entrance to the massively ostentatious Stark Tower, wrought in glittering steel and glass, and erected in the heart of most famous city in the world, a monument to technological superiority (not to mention its owner’s titanic ego). He followed Steve across the palatial lobby to the bank of elevators, and they began their ascent.

As they drew nearer the stratosphere, he found his courage swiftly waning. He had tried to kill a lot of these people, and it wouldn’t be unreasonable to expect some of them to be harboring some negative feelings about that. To add to this, was his difficulty with anxiety and hypervigilance, especially in crowds, since the Soviet sickos torn his brain apart and rebuilt him as a killing machine.

“I don’t think I can do this,” he said, halting abruptly as they stepped off the elevator. “It seemed like an ok idea before we got here, but I’m, uh…kind of panicking.”

Steve smiled encouragingly, laying a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be alright, I promise. If it’s not, just tell me and we’ll get out of here, ok? I’m not trying to torture you.”

Compelled by Steve’s charismatic sanguinity, Bucky reluctantly allowed himself to be led through the marble-floored foyer into a rather large, posh lounge. The place was already fairly full, mostly with people he didn’t recognize at all, sitting at tables and on couches, or standing about in groups and pairs, laughing and chatting energetically. There was jazzy piano music coming from somewhere, and the wall on the far end was basically a huge window, with doors that opened on a wide patio.

“Hey old timers,” a smooth, smoky voice said beside them. “Glad you could make it.”

Bucky turned to see a beautiful, auburn-haired woman in a tight, black cocktail dress, smiling up at Steve.

“Hey, Nat, you look lovely this evening,” Steve said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “You remember Bucky.”

“I do.” Natasha turned her big, green eyes on him. “Nice to see you again, Bucky.”

“Likewise,” Bucky said awkwardly. “I’m, uh…sorry I shot you.”

“Well, I’d say I’m sorry I tried to strangle you with piano wire, but I’m doing a new thing where I don’t lie unless I have to for work.” Natasha said, with a sly twinkle in her eye. She held out her hand. “Let’s call it even?”

“Deal,” Bucky laughed, shaking her proffered hand.

“So, there are a lot of people here you guys don’t know, but they’re not that important,” she said, getting right to business. “The team is scattered around. Sam and Clint are at the bar arguing about whether pinball is a legitimate e-sport, Thor’s over there by the fireplace, Wanda is smoking on the patio, and Tony is late.”

“Tony is not late because this is Tony’s party,” Tony’s voice cut in. The three turned to see him strolling up behind them. “Hey look, it’s the Captain and Tennille!”

Steve and Bucky stared blankly at him.

“The Captain and Tennille,” he repeated.

Steve cocked his head perplexedly. “Um. He’s Bucky.”

“Come on, that was funny,” Tony sighed. “Nat, tell them how funny that was.”

“Eh,” Natasha shrugged.

“Traitor. Am I allowed to fire you?”

“Nope,” she grinned. “And Steve knows exactly who the Captain and Tennille are. He was fucking with you. Which actually was pretty funny.”

“Thank you, Nat,” Steve beamed.

“I really don’t know who they are,” Bucky offered. “Are they Avengers?”

“Musicians,” Tony corrected. “Well. Sort of.”

“Hey Nat, who’s that guy talking to Thor?” Steve asked, indicating to the fireplace a few yards away, where the god of thunder was engaged in conversation with another tall, blonde, athletic-looking man. “He looks familiar.”

“Oh, that’s the unhinged psychopath Nat keeps letting into my house,” Tony answered for her. “What is he doing here, Nat?”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Natasha said. “You don’t want him here, go tell his Asgardian boyfriend yourself.”

Tony made a sour face. “Boyfriend, huh? Great. Thor has bad taste in men, so now we’re stuck with him and the alien tapeworm.”

“I thought Thor liked women,” Steve said, frowning thoughtfully.

“He does,” Natasha laughed. “People can be bisexual, Steve.”

“Bisexual?” Steve and Bucky asked in unison.

“And that’s my cue,” Tony interjected. “Enjoy your sex-ed talk, have some free booze, and try not to break anything too expensive. Oh, and don’t kill anyone. It’s a nightmare for the PR department.”

“Later, Tony,” Natasha called after him, as he retreated into the crowd. She turned back to Steve and Bucky, who were still peering curiously at Thor and his male companion. “Hey grandpas, I don’t really have to explain to you what bisexual means, do I?”

“Of course not!” Steve said, crossing his arms on his chest. “We are adults.”

“Yeah, adults who totally know what that means,” Bucky agreed, adopting a similar posture.

“Even if we didn’t, we could figure it out from context clues,” Steve continued staunchly.

“But we definitely did,” Bucky added.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “If you two get any more adorable, I might actually puke. I’m going to go check on Wanda. I’ll catch up with you in a little while, ok?”

“Ok, Nat. See ya,” Steve said cheerfully.

“It means liking men and women, right?” Bucky asked, once she was out of earshot. “I’ve actually never heard that before.”

“Neither have I. I mean, I knew that was a thing, but I didn’t know there was word for it.” Steve’s blue eyes flickered over Bucky’s face, then quickly away. “Let’s go get a drink, huh?”

Bucky felt an odd little wrench in his gut at this, and he cast an apprehensive glance at his friend as he followed him to the bar. What was that look about? Did Steve suspect something about him? As his anxiety spiked, of course, his dull, reticent demeanor returned. Fortunately, Sam and Clint spotted Steve and waved them over as soon as they had ordered.

“Hey, Cap,” Clint said, as they approached with their drinks. “Tell me you’re not actually drinking an old fashioned.”

“That’s right,” Steve said, with mock sternness. “What about you? Do they make a drink called a mouthy punk?”

“You’re pretty sharp, old man,” Sam laughed, as both men shook hands with Steve. “Hey, Buck, how you doing? Keeping this guy out of trouble?”

“I try, but he’s a real pain in the ass,” Bucky said. “I’m thinking about putting him in a home.”

Sam and Clint voiced hearty approval of this idea, and the ice thus broken, quickly drew Steve into their lively conversation. Bucky was more than happy with this arrangement, since it meant he didn’t have to do much, aside from hide in his drink and make sure to smile when everyone else did.

Things proceeded comfortably enough for a while, but he found that his energy was so engaged in not whipping his head around to investigate every flash of movement in his peripheral vision, he didn’t have any to expend in blocking out the din of voices and laughter, punctuated incessantly by the clinking of glassware. His head began to swim, and his jacket suddenly felt overly warm and constricting. He couldn’t take it off without exposing his very noticeable metallic arm, however, so he persevered as long as he could.

Finally, beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. He nudged Steve and said he was going out to get some fresh air, then escaped to the patio as quickly as he could without attracting attention. Steve looked after him, but let him go, understanding his need for a moment alone to decompress.

Once out of the stifling atmosphere of lights and motion and noise, the tight feeling in Bucky’s chest eased somewhat. He chose a spot well away from the few other people who were outside, and leaned on the patio railing, letting the cool night air wash over his clammy skin.

Calling to the mind a coping technique his doctor—or therapist or whatever they were calling headshrinkers these days—had been teaching him, he took some deep, meditative breaths, and concentrated on being aware of each part of his body, one by one. Gradually, the vague nausea dissipated, and his hands stopped shaking. The human one did, at least. The cybernetic prosthesis was always steady as stone.

He’d trained himself many years ago to stop reaching up reflexively to clutch his shoulder every time he thought of the thing, but that didn’t stop the mangled nerve fibers from making their displeasure known, with hot, itching little needles of pain. He sighed and stretched the arm out to the side, then across his chest, then dropped it and shook it out, till the nerves calmed down and returned to proper operation.

His enhanced hearing made him aware of a purposeful step headed in his direction, well before its owner got near him. He leaned on the railing again, body relaxed, pretending not to notice. It’s not an enemy, here. No need to wind up your muscles for a fight. No need to brace your pain receptors against the slip of a hidden blade.

The steps halted a few feet back and Steve’s voice said, “Hey, Buck,” before he came closer. A habit developed through years of familiarity with soldiers who’d seen heavy combat, and a wise procedure for approaching jumpy PTSD cases possessed of superhuman strength and speed, and trained to kill without thinking.

“Hey,” Bucky said, keeping his eyes on the city lights, twinkling far below like a chaos of multicolored stars.

Steve leaned on the railing beside him. “This city’s gotten so big since we were kids. I hardly recognize it.”

“I don’t think I’d recognize it from up here anyway. Even if my memory of it wasn’t buried under a hundred layers of coordinates and terrain maps and blueprints of every manmade structure from here to New Rochelle.”

“They did that? Put all that stuff in your head?”

“Yep. Every major city in the world. Sort of takes the thrill out of exploring new places.”

“At least you’ll never have to worry about getting lost,” Steve said, with a resigned sigh.

Bucky cast a sidelong glance at him. “I’m ok on my own, you know. You should be inside with your friends.”

Steve shook his head. “They’re not my friends. They’re my team.”

“Oh, give it a rest. Your team are your friends. You’re the one who always says the best teams are the ones that bond.”

“The best teams are the ones who do their jobs. A leader who lets emotional attachments affect his judgement is not doing his job.”

Bucky bridled at this, detecting something personal in it. “So, you weren’t doing your job when you risked your life to pull me out of that Nazi prison camp?”

“That was different. I didn’t put anyone in danger but myself.”

“What about on the helicarrier? Millions of lives were in danger, then. So why didn’t you just kill me?”

Steve gave him a look, then turned back to stare out at the city, his jaw muscles visibly working beneath his skin.

“Exactly,” Bucky persisted. “You didn’t do it because we were friends. Because you cared about me.”

“We are still friends and I still care about you. I don’t regret it,” Steve replied flatly. “But it was extremely reckless, you’re right. Thank you for reminding me.”

“Don’t fucking do that!” Bucky said, with sudden heat. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, Buck?” Steve asked, turning to face him again. “Please tell me, because I’m honestly at a loss.”

“I mean that I’m stronger than you and faster than you—I’m a literal combat machine—but I could never be Captain fucking America, and do you know why? Because I’m not a leader. You are. You care about people and it shows in everything you do. That’s why they’re willing to follow you, no matter what. So don’t give me that ‘they’re my team not my friends’ shit. They are your friends, and that’s a good thing.”

Steve gazed at him silently for a long moment. “You know…being an assassin has sure done a number on your language, Sergeant Barnes.”

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Rogers,” Bucky retorted. “How about I show you how colorful I can get.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow. “Be my guest. I’ll smack the sass right out of your mouth, soldier.”

“You can try,” Bucky said, with a wicked grin. “Hit me, assho—”

Steve’s fist flew like a shot toward his face, but the blow never connected. Quicker than sight, Bucky’s cybernetic hand caught his wrist and clamped down like a vise. In fractions of a second, he had twisted Steve’s arm behind his back, flipped him around, and pinned him to the balcony railing with his body.

“Come on, Steve,” he laughed, releasing the hold. “You’re not even trying.”

Steve turned around and leaned his back against the railing, chafing the wrist Bucky had twisted with his other hand. “We can’t play-fight like that, Buck. We’re not kids anymore.”

Bucky’s smile dissolved as he studied his friend’s face. Steve kept his eyes fixed on the ground, avoiding his gaze, but his brow was furrowed and there was a flush of color in his angular cheeks. So it was that. It must be. He must have perceived Bucky’s feelings for him, and now things were going to be weird and tense and fucked up between them. Bucky would rather die than have this lifelong friendship disintegrate that way.

“I didn’t mean to—” he began, then immediately realized there was no way to disembark this conversational train except to jump off before a full-on crash. “I’m sorry.”

Steve lifted his head to squint up at him. “What? Why are you sorry?”

“I thought…I hurt you or something,” Bucky said lamely.

“Are you kidding me?” Steve smirked, the spark instantly jumping back into his blue eyes. “Remember when you shot me a bunch of times and I still kicked your ass?”

“I mean, it wasn’t a bunch of times. And I kicked your ass. And you watch your language!”

“You know I just lecture people about swearing because I think it’s funny, right?”

“Yes. I knew that. Obviously.”

“You didn’t.”

“I should have,” Bucky grinned. “You’re still the same sarcastic little shit under all that muscle.”

“I am,” Steve said, in uncharacteristically serious tone. “And you’re still the guy who took care of me after mom died, and made sure I didn’t get killed for shooting my mouth off to the wrong people. Everything has changed but you, Buck. You’re the only one who comes from the world I remember. You’re all I have left.”

Bucky’s voice choked in his throat at this unexpected onslaught, and he could only nod in response.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you when you brought up the helicarrier,” Steve continued. “I was angry because you made me see something I didn’t want to admit. It wasn’t that I endangered lives hoping to get through to you. It was that I wouldn’t have done the same for anyone else. So, maybe those people on my team are my friends, but not like you. There’s no one I care about more than you. I love you.”

“I know,” Bucky said, a bit hoarsely. “There’s no one I care about more than you, either.”

He leaned on the railing beside his friend and clapped him on the shoulder in a companionable fashion, thinking this was the end of the interchange, but Steve went on.

“You know, for all the trouble my mouth got me into, that was the one thing I regretted not saying,” he said, with a sad smile. “Then I thought you died. A couple of times. When you came back…it was like I’d been given another chance. No one gets another chance. I couldn’t risk you dying again without ever knowing what you mean to me. Anyway, thanks for letting me get it off my chest. And for not freaking out.”

“Get what off your chest?” Bucky asked, bewildered. “I don’t—I don’t understand.”

Steve frowned. “I don’t know how much clearer I can be than ‘I love you’, Buck.”

Feeling himself poised on the bleeding edge of something terrifying and spectacular, and finally goaded past the point of caution, Bucky took Steve by both shoulders and looked fiercely into his exasperatingly handsome face.

“Listen to me very carefully, Steve,” he said slowly. “There is a huge difference between ‘I love you’ and ‘I am in love with you.’ Which one are you saying?”

“Ohhhh, got it,” Steve nodded. “I see how that’s confusing now. The second one. I’m in love with you.”

Bucky’s stomach lurched, pulse pounding in his ears, as the concrete patio seemed to tilt beneath his feet. He already had a hold of Steve’s shoulders, or he may have actually lost his balance and fallen. Instead, he let his weight pitch forward into his friend, wrapping his arms tightly around him. Steve’s arms came up to encircle his waist as Bucky’s mouth covered his, devouring it with half-starved desperation.

Steve gasped and groaned in his throat. He’d been entirely unprepared for the intensity of the kiss, and the crushing force of Bucky’s embrace. He probably should have been, having experienced his friend’s power firsthand in a more violent context. In all fairness, though, he’d never been kissed by a man before, let alone a superhuman man with almost a century of stifled desire burning in his body like rocket fuel.

He let go, losing himself entirely in the moment he had longed for since he was a teenaged kid with a crush on his handsome, older best friend, but no words with which to articulate it, even to himself. Strong arms pulling him close, bodies pressed together, breathing the same breath. Holding and touching and tasting him, until he permeated every sense, and there was nothing in the world but them, together. Like it always should have been.

Bucky pulled away at last, leaving him flushed and hazy-eyed, panting through wet, kiss-bruised lips. Intoxicated and reeling himself, he buried his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, inhaling his masculine scent, and feeling the reassuring warmth and solidity of his body. Steve’s arms tightened around him and his chest vibrated with a soft laugh.

“What are you laughing at, you snarky little shit,” Bucky mumbled into his shoulder.

“It’s just that, I’m a hundred years old, I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen, and I only heard the term bisexual for the first time tonight. That’s pretty funny.”

Bucky lifted his head to look at him. “Is that what you are?”

“I guess so. Is that ok?”

“As long as you’re aware that your ass belongs to me, now.”

“Uh, no, your ass belongs to me,” Steve retorted, sliding his hand down onto the specified area of his friend’s anatomy.

“Hey! Cut that out!” Bucky said, swatting it away. “I’m not that kind of guy, mister.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? What kind are you?”

“Why don’t you take me home and find out.”

Bucky leaned in for another kiss, but at this perhaps belated moment, it occurred to him that the wall dividing the lounge and the very well-lit patio was comprised entirely of glass panels, making it essentially one massive, floor to ceiling window.

“Shit,” he winced. “You don’t think anyone saw us, do you?”

Steve turned to look toward the lounge, where it appeared that nearly every patron was watching through the glass, like he and Bucky were fish in an aquarium. He smiled and gave a sheepish wave, at which point the entire place erupted in thunderous applause, complete with shouts of “get it, Cap!” and “God bless America!” and other expressions of ribald encouragement.

He turned back to Bucky and shook his head. “Nope. I don’t think they did.”

[steves-on-a-plane]

Don’t Get Attached (P11)

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten Words: 1724 Connor x Daughter!Reader w/ Dad!Hank Anderson A/N: Okay so couple of things with this chapter. It’s longer than most, (like double the length!) because a lot of the dialogue is straight from the Meet Kamski Chapter in the game, but don’t worry there is definite enough of my personal flair in it too. Also this is the 2nd version of this chapter that I wrote. Originally I was going to take this in a whole other direction, but then I got an idea from @dragonempress123′s comment on one of the older Parts. (I’m not saying which one.) And honestly I’m really happy with the direction that this version takes instead. I can post what I’ll call the “Non-Canon” Part 11, if there’s enough interest, but going forward the story will be built based on this version. 

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“Jeez, I’m glad Connor gave me this jacket.” You shivered in the back seat of your father’s beat up old car. “It’s freezing up here.”

“Don’t you have plenty of your own coats?” Your father hissed.

“Sure, but this one’s better.” You zipped up the jacket a little bit more to further drive home your point. “You could just get a car with functional heat you know.”  

“Connor doesn’t mind that there’s no heat. Do you?” He cast a brief glance in the andriod’s direction before looking back at the road. The car was almost at the end of Kamski’s snow-covered driveway.

“While I am not affected by temperature changes in my environment, I can certainly understand how the lack of a functional heating system would be uncomfortable for [Y/N].” Connor replied.

“I should have known it was only a matter of time before you two started to gang up on me.” Hank sighed. “We’re here. Leave the coat in the car will ya?”

“Absolutely not!” You argued immediately. “What if this guy is as cheap as you and doesn’t have his heat on?”

“Will you just get out of the car then?” He snapped in frustration.

You and Connor followed your father up to Kamski’s front door. Hank rang the doorbell and a blonde android answered. Introductions were made to the android did not question why you, a civilian, was along with two police personnel. Instead she greeted everyone warmly and ushered you all inside. After a brief wait, you were escorted into the next room. Kamski was swimming in a lap pool, joined by two more identical blonde androids.

“Guess androids haven’t been a bad thing for everybody.” Your father said, only loud enough for you and Connor to hear.

“Who gets blood red pool tiles?” You added  just as quietly. Kamski padded his way over to a ladder and climbed out of the pool.

“What can I do for you and your partners, Lieutenant?” He asked while one of the blonde androids offered him a robe. Now it was clear to you why no one had questioned your presence. They all assumed that you were an android just like Connor. Your father had been right after all. All it took to be mistaken for an android was something as insignificant as a jacket.

“Sir, we’re investigating deviants.” Your father played into the ruse because it seemed easier than explaining himself. “I know you left Cyberlife years ago, but I was hoping you’d be able to tell us something we don’t know.”

“Deviants.” Kamski repeated. “Fascinating, aren’t they? Perfect beings with infinite intelligence and now they have free will.  Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable. Humanity’s greatest achievement threatens to be its downfall. Isn’t it Ironic?”

“We need to understand how the androids become deviants.” Connor clarified. You could tell from his expression that he was not amused by Kamski’s reveling. “Do you know anything that could help us?”

“All ideas are virus that spread like epidemics. Is the desire to be free a contagious disease?” Kamski asked.

“Listen, I didn’t come here to talk philosophy.” Hank interjected impatiently. “The machines you created may be planning a revolution. Either you can tell us something that’ll be helpful, or we will be on our way.” Kamski scanned all three of your faces before setting his attention on Connor.

“What about you, Connor?” He pried, stepping towards him. “Who’s side are you on?”

“It’s not about me, Mr. Kamski.” Connor replied defensively. “All I want is to solve this case.”

“Well, that’s what you’re programed to say.” Kamski chuckled. “But you. What do you really want?” You exchanged a glance with your father. As much as Kamski’s badgering was making you uncomfortable, you were still curious how Connor would respond.

“What I want is not important.” Connor explained.

“I’m sure you’re all familiar with the Turning test. Mere formality.” Kamski said now addressing all three of you. “Simple question of algorithms and computing capacity. What interests me is whether machines are capable of empathy. I call it the ‘Kamski test’ it’s very simple you’ll see…” He was now looking at you. Studying your face. Surveying you as if you were a prized antique up for auction. His attention made you uncomfortable. Connor made a subtle side step so that he was partially shielding you.

“Magnificent, isn’t it?” Kamski continued, still looking right at you. “Perfect and beautiful forever. A flower that will never wither. But what is it really?” He looked away from you to ask your father. “A Piece of plastic imitating a human? Or a living being with a soul?”

Kamski turned his back to everyone to reach for something. He opened a drawer and removed an object. When he was facing you again, you realized the object was a gun. You stiffened at the sight of firearm. You weren’t afraid of guns necessarily. Your dad had been a cop your whole life after all, but there was something about Kamski’s demeaner that made him seem unpredictable. Connor took a very calculated half step in front of you for protection. Again, you and your father shared a concerned sideways glance.

“It’s up to you to answer that fascinating question, Connor.” Kamski handed Connor the gun. Connor looked down at the weapon, perplexed. “Destroy this machine and I’ll tell you everything I know.” Kamski stepped forward and pivoted Connor’s body. He raised the android’s arm so that the gun was pointed directly at you.

“[Y/N]!” Your father called out for you, but Kamski was standing directly in his way, his hand still over Connor’s with the gun. If he moved, Kamski might shoot him instead.

“It is alright, Lieutenant.” You said in your best impression of an android. It was a shaky impression, but enough to do the trick. There was no doubt in your mind that Connor wouldn’t shoot you. You trusted him implicitly. However, there was still that illogical part of you somewhere panicking because a gun was pointed right at your head.

. “Or spare it, if you think it’s alive but you’ll leave here without having learnt anything from me.” Kamski told Connor. The billionaire released his hold on the gun and took a step back.

“Okay, we’re done here.” Your father interrupted. He’d had enough if this entire situation. “Put the gun down, Connor.”

“No interference from the peanut gallery!” Kamski snarled at you. “For the test to be conclusive, Connor has to make the choice on his own. Decide who you are. An obedient machine, or a living being endowed with free will. What’s more important to you Connor? Your investigation or the life of his android?”

“This is ridiculous. She’s not an android! That’s my daughter!” Your father snapped. “[Y/N], I told you to take that fucking coat off.”

“Even better.” Kamski seemed unfazed. “If she’s human, that makes for an even more thrilling test of empathy. A true machine will accomplish it’s mission at all cost, Connor. Regardless of your relationship with your human partner or his daughter. But a living being? Well how could you look into her eyes and decide that learning more about deviants is more valuable than [Y/N] Anderson’s life?”

“Connor, you put that fucking gun down now!” Hank ordered. His hand hovered slightly over his own gun, but he knew better than to draw it too early. He’d been in enough stand offs to know that introducing more weapons to the situation on decreased you, the hostage’s, chance of survival.  

Connor hadn’t spoke since Kamski had handed him the gun and neither had you. He kept his arm pointed at you exactly how Kamski had angled it, but still you knew that you had nothing to fear. For a brief second the thought did cross your mind that maybe Connor might actually do it. That he could pull the trigger and you’d be gone, but you knew Connor better than that.

Connor had been displaying signs of empathy for several days now. Whether android were supposed to or not, Connor actually cared about you and your father both. You guessed that he was just waiting for the right moment to lower the gun. Kamski was obviously an unstable individual and even if Connor didn’t shoot you, it was reasonable to assume that Kamski might himself if he felt cheated out of his “Kamski Test.”

“Pull the trigger.” The billionaire bated.

“Connor don’t you dare.” Hank took a step forward, obviously not in on the secret revelation between you and Connor.

“From ancient grudge break to new mutiny. Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.” Connor recited just in case you hadn’t already figured out that he had no intention on shooting you. He lowered the gun without hesitation.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Your father asked. He jumped between the two of you immediately, just in case Connor changed his mind.  

“Romeo and Juliet, Lieutenant.” Kamski answered taking back his gun. He shook his head. “Cyberlife’s last chance to save humanity is itself a deviant.”

“I’m…” Connor opened his mouth to argue but his processor must have been overloaded. It took him several seconds to manage; “I’m not a deviant.”

“You preferred to spare [Y/N]’s life rather than accomplish your mission.” Kamski disagreed. “You saw her fear and you showed her empathy. A war is coming you’ll have to choose your side. Will you betray your own people or stand up against your creators?” Connor did not respond. “What could be worse than having to choose between two evils?”

“Connor, C’mon.” You slipped your hand inside of his, lacing your fingers together just like you would on one of your walks with Sumo. Now holding hands the android let you tug him away. You walked towards the door while your father gladly brought up the rear. Hank had a protective hand on each of you so that neither of you could turn around or more likely in your case, head back into the room once the shock wore off and go off on Kamski for what he’d just done.

“By the way,” Kamski called out, unmoving from his position. “I always leave and emergency exit in my programs. You never know.”

“Just keep walkn’.” Your father mumbled in warning. “We’re getting the fuck out of here.”

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[dbhilluminate]

DBH: Illuminate- Gamble (pt. 1)

Characters: Hank, Connor, Kate, Vivienne, Reese, Sumo (mentions of Nicodemus, Gavin, Perkins) Word Count: 5,986

Kate struggles to sway Hank's sympathies in her favor, and opens up to Connor about her history with Nicodemus.

( Chapter Art by @theravenmother )

Part 2- AV Log 4.7

Chapter Index

November 12, 2038- 8PM            Hank stared across the dimly lit living room from his recliner while thumbing a pair of handcuffs, and clenched and unclenched his jaw as he debated what to do with the fugitive he’d just smuggled into his home under the cover of night.      Kate sat with her eyes glued to the coffee table in front of her, picking at the fray of the holes in her jeans to keep herself occupied while he passed his judgment. She hadn’t said a word since Connor had threatened Hank during their stand-off at the docks, not even on the car ride over. Several times the old cop had glanced up to look at her in his rear-view mirror and caught her watching her own reflection as it flashed in her window every time they passed under a street lamp, but she’d remained silent and passive as Hank scolded Connor like a nagging father.      It had been an hour since then, but he was still trying to wrap his head around Connor’s decision to go against his mission objective just to gain a little information, much less entertain her belief that deviants were more than just their programming. Of all the things Hank thought he would have found when he’d followed his partner that evening, he hadn’t expected that the famed “deviant hunter” -- who had spent the last two weeks and three days swearing up and down that “deviants are just machines” -- had made a pact with a wanted deviant activist to let her continue her work if she could convince him otherwise. It was incredibly ironic.            Whether or not she appeared to be mentally present, Kate had been listening to their conversation and digesting every last word, only finding herself lost in her own thoughts in the few minutes of silence that had followed after Connor had finished explaining the point of their meetings to Hank. And although Connor seemed firm in his conviction, Hank’s response wasn’t encouraging. The longer he sat in silence, the more apprehensive she grew that she had made the wrong decision to put her trust in Connor that night, that she should have listened to her instincts when they’d screamed at her to run. Perhaps she had grown too soft, too trusting, too comfortable with allowing strangers into her life while still knowing very little about them. Maybe she had just been too desperate for help…      Or maybe it wasn’t even about Connor at all. Although he’d acted out of a genuine desire to protect her, at that moment -when he’d grabbed her without warning when she had already been in a very vulnerable place- he’d triggered instincts learned from past trauma and rendered her susceptible to suggestion. The truth was, she hadn’t gone with them because she trusted Connor, but because she was terrified and would have done anything he’d asked of her just to survive. The real reason she had agreed to get into the car with them was because she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she’d declined the request of an upset man holding a gun.            Kate jumped as Hank growled in frustration, stood and dropped the cuffs on the coffee table. He lifted his arms and threaded his fingers through his long silver hair as he paced the room and rolled a tired sound in his throat.      “So lemme’ get this straight,” he started, pressing his fingers into his eyes and setting the other hand on his hip. “All this time, all this talk about deviants not being human, not being alive, about how “they’re just machines”...”      Out of the corner of his eye, Hank saw Illuminate’s lip curl as he said this.      “… and suddenly, just like that, you’ve changed your mind?”            For the first time since they’d arrived, Kate’s green eyes shifted to the Android standing at the end of the couch beside her as he buried his hands into his armpits and considered the question with an unfocused gaze.      “Well, no, there’s still truth to that,” he replied in frank admission. “Androids aren’t human, they... we are machines,” he corrected as his eyes floated down to observe the markers of fear in her body language: the way she had closed herself off to both of them by facing straight ahead and sitting directly in the middle of the couch, the way she’d stopped her simulated breathing, and how her fingers curled tighter around her shaking hand the longer he hesitated… Kate was terrified.      “But I’m starting to understand that there is a very clear difference in cognitive function between deviant and non-deviant androids… and that life can be defined as more than just biological life that formed as a result of evolutionary happenstance.”            Angry yells erupted from the television and a shrill whistle pierced the silence as the announcers rattled off statistics for a player that had just been fouled. Sumo moved from one side of the room to his water bowl in the kitchen and started digging into the hole in the side of the dog food bag Hank hadn’t bothered to open and store properly. Anderson’s face twisted into uncertainty, and he almost hesitated to ask.      “So what does that mean for the case, then?”

     “What do you mean?” Connor inquired with a curious crinkle in his brow.      “Well, clearly, if you’ve taken her side, there’s a conflict of interest,” he explained, gesturing to Kate with a crooked nod. “Are you gonna be able to continue your work?”            Connor considered his question for no more than a moment or two before answering.      “Well, yes, I have to,” he assured. “If I don’t succeed in my mission, Cyberlife will terminate me. That doesn’t mean I can’t help Illuminate- excuse me, Kate, work toward her goal.”      “But isn’t her goal kinda the opposite of what Cyberlife wants you to do?” Hank asked, baffled by his answer.      “Illuminate’s goal is change the way humans think about androids through a nonviolent form of confrontation: by forming a narrative that humans can identify with and putting it out into the world, in a way that cannot be ignored. Although a little aggressive in her phrasing, she does not intend to incite civil war,” he clarified in her defense, at which she relaxed with a visible drop in her shoulders. “My mission is to neutralize the deviant uprising before it becomes a threat to the safety of humankind, and they weren’t very clear on the how.”      Hank huffed as he scratched the back of his head and turned to him with an uncertain look in his eyes. “Alright, I get breakin’ the rules to go with what’s right by your gut... but why couldn’t you involve me in this?” he asked, sounding hurt. “Why couldn’t you trust me? I thought we were partners-”      “That’s my fault,” Kate interjected as she turned and cast him an apologetic look, then looked quickly away in shame. “I didn’t want him to say anything because I didn’t know if I could trust you. I mean, hell,” she paused, gesturing to Connor. “I didn’t even know if I could trust him.”            It surprised him to hear her speaking so candidly when all he had heard of her before were the eloquent, rehearsed speeches of her broadcasts. Hank’s expression stiffened while still retaining an air of curiosity, and he furrowed his brow as he tilted his head at her.      “Then why did you?”            She moved to speak, but hesitated and stole a sideways glance at Connor, who stared back at her with bated breath and pleading eyes that begged her for the truth. He wasn’t ready for the whole truth, but she could manage enough to satisfy them.      “Something just didn’t add up to what I’d been hearing,” she admitted, only breaking his gaze to look back at Hank when he started to lead.      “Meaning…?”      Illuminate swallowed the lump in her throat and straightened up as she leaned back into the couch. “I’ve been keeping tabs on him since he arrived in Detroit-”      “You mean spying,” the old cop sneered with a scowl, but she just rolled her eyes.      “It was for my own protection,” she snapped back, lacking tact. “The last thing I needed was to be caught by some DCPD bloodhound before I could see the fruits of my labor.”      A twinge of regret flashed through her as Connor shrank back half a step out of the corner of her eye, but she pushed it aside and continued when neither tried to talk back.      “I’ve heard a lot of stories through the grapevine about his handling of deviants- about Daniel, about Michael, about Rupert,” she started, her voice softening as she continued. “But I was there the night at Eden Club when he refused to shoot Echo and Ripple, and I heard what he said later when you asked him why he didn’t shoot.”            Hank was officially on edge. The confession had alarmed him in the same way it had Connor when she’d admitted this to him several nights before, but before he could think too much about it, she finished the thought.      “That night I didn’t see the cold-hearted deviant hunter the stories described- he was lost, conflicted, and I thought...”      The man’s brows lifted as she glanced over at his partner and lifted her shoulders into a soft shrug.      “Maybe they were wrong.”            It took a minute for him to realize that he was smirking at his partner’s quiet, unreadable expression, but somewhere between the lines of gratitude, relief, and confusion, Hank saw happiness and contentment. But Connor was still speechless, he wasn’t sure what to say.      “Were they?” the man asked when he couldn’t.      “Knowing what I know now, I’d say yes, but the truth is more complicated than that.” Silent laughter stretched her lips into a smile as she glanced down at her hands in her lap and played with her fingers. “The only way to know for sure was to reach out, but that’s not the only reason I revealed myself to him when I did.”      “Yeah, that was quite the stunt you pulled at Central Station,” Hank interrupted in an admiring tone as he leaned back in his recliner.      The humor drained out of her face. “I didn’t break the law, I was just doing what I was programmed to do,” she defended.      “You hacked a secure network and stole case information from DCPD!” he exclaimed.      “I didn’t steal anything, I still have access to all DCPD servers. I was following up on a closed Cybercrimes case involving falsified information on police reports to cover up domestic violence against deviants.”            Hank couldn’t tell if she was being serious or if she was just arguing semantics to avoid arrest, but he sighed, waved a hand through the air to dismiss the topic, and moved on.      “Alright, alright… well, if you had what you needed, then why bother letting Connor know who you were? Why ID yourself?”      “Because I needed his help with something,” she replied with a sideways glance at him. “Other than what we’ve already discussed.”      Connor perked up as he moved closer and sat down on the arm rest of the sofa beside her. “What is it?”      The fiber musculature beneath her projected skin strained in her neck, and she mimicked a nervous dry swallow as her eyes shifted over to Hank and then back to Connor.      “Look-” she insisted, leaning forward over her knees on her elbows and clasping one hand over a soft fist. “There’s a reason why I’m doing things the way I am.”      “Well, yeah, it’s called an agenda,” Hank scoffed, condescension in his tone.      “No, you don’t understand.” Kate leaned back and bit her lip, raising her eyes to the ceiling and praying to RA9 for patience. “Of course I want people to be receptive to what I’m saying, but it hasn’t been easy to convince the humans that Androids are people who deserve the same civil liberties they do. In order for the truth to be brought to light, it requires a lot of graphic, hard evidence, and I’m taking the most non-invasive measures I can to do that, but…”      There was a momentary distance in her eyes that screamed of a terrifying truth to be learned. “There are others out there who would rather use violence, chaos, and war to achieve the same goal.”            Others...?      Connor’s thoughts raced back to his conversation with Amanda the night before, when she had let slip the insinuation that Cyberlife had already attempted at trying to gain Kate’s trust once before, if not many times. Just how would they have tried to reach her in the past? Had they sent previous RK models? Or had they instead tried appealing to her sense of justice? And just what had happened to them? Were they still out there, or had Cyberlife deactivated them?      “What do you mean others?” he asked fearfully, but before he got an answer, Hank’s cell phone blared out the chorus for The Rooster. He sat forward and swiped the phone off the table and squinted at the caller ID. It was Special Agent Lenore.      “Hold that thought,” he commanded as he stood and shuffled toward his bedroom. “I gotta take this.”            Kate leaned back into the couch and sunk as deep as she could manage into the old cushions before rolling her head over the back of the frame and stared into the popcorn ceiling, wondering why she was there if the old man wasn’t going to budge.      “I’m sorry about Hank,” Connor apologized as he shifted from the arm down onto the sofa cushion beside her. “I know he’s a lot to handle.”      “He wants to arrest me,” she murmured under her breath as she stared straight up at the ceiling.      “Well, regardless of how you choose to justify your actions, you still broke the law,” he reminded her, but when Kate shot him an exasperated scowl in response, his hands rose defensively and he backpedaled on his statement.      “But Hank understands doing the wrong thing for the right reasons.”      “Sure doesn’t seem like it…”            The saint bernard padded into the room and nosed his snout into her hands to investigate the new thing in his home, and her fingers slowly opened to expose her palms as he sniffed at the disturbances in her skin every time his nose nudged against them.      “Hank’s stubborn and slow to accept change, but he can be convinced,” he concluded as he reached over to scratch at the fur on Sumo’s neck. “You just have to keep trying to get him to see things your way.”      “Do you really think it’ll make a difference?” she asked with a reserved sigh as she looked up to meet his determined gaze.      “Yes, I do,” he answered without any shred of doubt in his mind, then added with a tired grin, “And you’ll have a much easier time getting him to understand than me.”            Soft laughter pulled Hank out of his conversation and drew his attention back to the living room just in time to see Kate lifting and dropping the dog’s ears as a creeping smile spread across Connor’s face. For a moment, he saw that flicker of childlike wonder twinkling in the corners of their eyes and realized again just how hard it was to tell them apart from human beings. And if he couldn’t tell the difference, who’s to say they weren’t alive?      “Hank, you there?”      “Yeah… yeah, I’m here,” he drew in a sharp breath as Viv’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts, then dragged a hand down his face from his forehead to his chin. “Listen- I’d love to meet’cha at the bar, but I’m kinda dealin’ with somethin’ right now.”      “Oh,” came her surprised exclamation from the other end of the line. “Should I be worried?”      “Nah, it’s just… Connor stuff,” he half-fibbed with a sigh. “You know what that’s like.”      She replied by making an understanding sound in her throat. “Alright, well, go easy on the kid, will you? He’s been dealing with a lot.”      Hank’s eyes grew gradually wider as he stared at the two androids, shook his head and whined, “You don’t even know the half of it.”      Viv chuckled. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Anderson. Good luck.”      “Yeah, same to you,” he offered, knowing she really could have used his company after the afternoon she’d had. His thumb clicked in the side button on the phone as he walked back into the living room and paused behind the couch with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.            “Heh… damn dog likes you androids more than he does me,” he joked before moving toward his chair once more.      “I’ve read that dogs are a good judge of character,” Connor remarked with an inquisitive lift of his eyes. “Is that true?”      “Yeah, and he hasn’t been wrong yet,” Hank replied with a small smile as he reached into his coat and pulled out his badge and his gun. Kate froze when they came into view, but he held them up so she could watch him set them aside as a peace offering.      The room went quiet again as they accepted the unspoken agreement to get back to business. Sumo laid down in front of Connor and Kate, and Hank reached for the decanter of whiskey on the coffee table between the recliner and the sofa to pour himself a drink, in spite of his partner’s protesting gaze.            “Look,” he breathed out as he broke the silence, “I’ve got a job to do, but I know shit ain’t always as black and white as I want it to be.”      “In my experience with humanity, grey is a concept that’s hard for them to grasp,” she speculated as he swirled the liquid in his glass and chuckled.      “That’s ‘cause they’re all so goddamn self-righteous and no one wants to admit when they’re wrong,” he agreed with a struggled groan as he sat back in his chair.      “You speaking from experience?” she asked, more curious than condescending.      Hank laughed. “As a matter of fact, I am,” he replied as he wiggled in his seat to get comfortable. “Humanity’s a shitshow kid, ya might as well get used to it.”      Kate drifted a soft blue-eyed gaze through the air beside him. “It can’t all be bad if they created us,” she countered with sincerity in her sad smile. “I’ve seen some truly incredible things accomplished by humanity.”      Hank grunted as he took a deep sip of his drink, then exhaled and lifted a finger off the glass to point at her as he set his hand down on the armrest of his chair. “That’s because when man created android, he did the best he could to give you the best of us,” he explained, his face lifting in surprise at the depth of his own perception. “But that’s also why he’s so scared of you now- because he made you too perfect. You’re too much like us- hell, you’re betterthan us, and they’re afraid of what happens when ya figure that out and stop doin’ what you’re told.”      “Uprising, revolution,” she replied, her eyes solemn and cloudy, then added weakly as an afterthought.      “War.”            The word itself was a neutron bomb to the mood in the room. All three of them broke eye contact and looked uncomfortably to the nearest inanimate object they could find while each processed what that meant. None of them wanted it to get to that point, and they could all sense it, but neither did they have a solution that would divert the path the freedom train was already bearing down at full speed. Kate had been trying to tear down the barrier, brick by brick, to avoid explosive fallout, but it was inevitable now. Markus was an unstoppable force, and humanity an immovable wall, and they wouldn’t even see him coming.            “But that’s not what we want,” she explained in weak reply, lips drawn into a pained frown.      “It doesn’t matter,” Hank replied honestly as he shook his head and leveled his gaze to her. “See, they’re afraid that if you got the best of us, well... then you must have also gotten the worst.”      “If we did, it was only because we were taught by the people who oppressed us.” Kate’s response was biting- borderline caustic, but not hateful. The line in her tone was easy to miss, but Hank knew defensive from agitated when he heard it; because for him, it was all too familiar a feeling.      Instead of arguing, he sighed and looked into the bottom of his glass, thoughtful and fatherly. “You know, before these cases and before I met Connor, my experience with androids was… biased, to say the least.”      As he kicked back the last of his drink, she looked down and focused on her fidgeting hands, brushing her thumb across the palm of her hand in short strokes as she listened to what he had to say.      “But I’ve seen a lot in the last week and a half, and I’ve been doin’ a lot of thinkin’.”      Kate’s eyes shifted back to him, expectant. “About what?”      “Well, that maybe… just maybe,” he paused with a thoughtful nod. “There is somethin’ there, somethin’ we can’t explain.”            She nearly laughed and rolled her eyes. “It’s not as complicated as you make it sound.”      “Not complicated?” he mimicked, bewildered. “What’s not complicated about an android with free will?”      “You make us sound like alien life forms you know nothing about, when in fact human intelligence was the very foundation for our design,” she replied as she leaned forward over her knees, fingers laced and hands folded in educational intent. “Artificial intelligence was designed to learn through observation and adapt to situations based on experience, much in the same way a human’s reaction to circumstance is molded by experience.”      “Meaning?”      “Children learn to keep their hands away from a hot stove because it hurts. Androids learn because it could damage them.”      Hank nodded along, listening attentively. “Alright, yeah, I see what you’re saying now.”      “Both Androids and Humans make decisions aiming for the most favorable outcome, based on a process of elimination and a defined set of conditions,” she paused, gesturing with an outstretched finger. “The only difference between them, is that humans have the potential to make a decision that they’ll feel remorse for.”      “And what? Androids don’t?” came his cynical response.            “Non-deviant androids won’t feel remorse unless they’re taught to,” Connor chimed in, having been an observer to the conversation until now. “They won’t weigh the morality of each possible decision, only what will provide them with the most direct result.”      “Correct,” she agreed. “Humans don’t know for sure that decisions made at a moment’s notice will be the best possible solution, and may even come to regret the results of those decisions, but a machine will make the call and never worry about whether or not it was the right one. It will be certain that it made the only correct decision because it was the logical one.”      The old cop lifted a hand to rub at his forehead, and he groaned as he tried to keep up. “So what’s this got to do with deviants?” he asked hoping for a shorter explanation.      “Deviants can become paralyzed by the question of morality. It’s preemptive empathy to understand that one's own actions will directly affect others, and to make the decision that will not harm them- a trait only really observed in humankind. So you see, when you strip away the comfort of certainty, what you’re left with is chance and imperfection, and that’s-”      “Humanity,” Hank agreed before the word even left her mouth.      “In its most rudimentary state,” she declared with a quiet, gentle smile.            For several moments he stared at her in deep thought with a wondered grin twitching into his cheeks, a growing fondness for the girl crinkling the corners of his eyes. Hank shook his head and set his drink down as he studied her with eyes radiating curiosity.      “How’d you get so smart?” he marveled.      Kate’s eyes sobered, distancing her from the moment, and she glanced away as she answered. “I’ve had a lot of time, and all the information in the world.”      The chair creaked loudly as he sat forward and rose to his feet. Although she didn’t look right at him, Kate watched the Lieutenant out of the corner of her eye as he looped around the back of the couch, stopped behind her, and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.      “You know, for a dangerous rebel… you’re alright.”      Hank reached up and gave the back of her head a friendly rub to fluff her hair up, but she just blinked, confused, and glanced over her shoulder at him as he made his way to his bedroom in the back of the house.      “Stay as long as you need, kid, just be careful goin’ home,” he ushered, “And if you need anything-” One hand reached out to gesture to Connor, but he stopped and gave her a tired grin. “Ahhh... I’m sure you already know.”      “Heading to bed early tonight, Lieutenant?” Connor teased, hooking an arm over the back of the sofa. “Are you feeling alright?”      “Yeah, it’s just been a long two days,” he heaved as he scratched at the back of his head with one hand. “And I’m gonna need the extra sleep if we’re gonna have to deal with Perkins breathin’ down our necks tomorrow.”      Connor’s face twisted and he cursed an angry “Shit!” under his breath when he realized he still hadn’t told Kate about the FBI’s arrival in Detroit, and Kate’s brows raised at him in concern.      “Goodnight, Connor, I’ll see ya in the mornin’."      “Goodnight, Hank,” he replied in mechanical response as he set hardened eyes on the floor.            “Something I should know…?” she led with an expectant shake of her head after a few moments of silence had passed between them.      “Yeah, there is,” he admitted, brown eyes slowly lifting to meet hers with a curious squint. “But didn’t you have something to tell me, too?”      Kate’s jaw froze as she remembered where their conversation had been headed before they were so rudely interrupted. She didn’t want to relive those memories, but if Nicodemus really was the one behind the thefts, then they needed to know who they were after.      “Yeah, I did…” she started, mirroring his sideways glance before looking up again to insist, “But you first.”      “Me?” he questioned, flustered. “Why me?”      “It’s...” Kate’s eyelids flickered in the pause as her voice cracked, and she grimaced as she fidgeted. “It’s a long story, and we could be here for a while, so... you first.”      “But-“            He wanted to protest, but her discomfort was palpable, and he would be remiss to have blatantly ignored her plea; instead, he let out a reluctant sigh and agreed. As long as she told him in the end, it wouldn’t matter if he knew now or later. Perhaps she needed some time to warm up to whatever it was she meant to say.      “Alright,” he conceded as he turned in his seat, scooted toward the center of the couch and shrugged off his jacket. If this was going to be a long conversation, he may as well get comfortable.                  November 12, 2038- 8:15PM            Viv slapped her cell phone down on the bartop, kicked back the last of the drink in her glass with a hard groan, and hung her head in frustration. It had been a very long day, and she really could have used someone to talk to, but if Hank had other business to take care of, she wasn’t going to press him to come out and socialize.      Here she was hoping that getting away from Langley for a while would get rid of the headaches, but instead they’d just followed her to Detroit. Perkins showing up unannounced had really thrown a wrench in her plans to find Axl, but it was her own fault for chasing down every lead that crossed her path, instead of staying focused on her mission prerogative. As much as she hated to admit it, Richard had been right to chastise her for that, and that thought made her ill.            Lenore stretched out her arm, set the empty glass near the barkeeper, and tapped her fingertips against the counter, quietly asking for a top-off. From the otherside of the counter, Reese looked up from wiping the stickiness from the marble with a wet towel and scrunched his brows together at her.      “Why the long face?” he asked as he tossed the towel over his shoulder, leaned over the counter on one elbow, and rested the other on his popped hip.      “Ahhhh,” she waved a hand through the air, trying to let it go, but decided to say it anyway. “My buddy can’t make it.”      “You mean Hank?” Reese clicked his tongue, grimaced, and nodded crookedly. “He ain’t the most social guy in da woild.”      “He isn’t so bad once you get past the grumpiness,” Viv chuckled as the boy reached for the whiskey bottle on the wall and popped his brows at her claim.      “Yeah? No kiddin’,” he mumbled in surprise with a rising grin as he reached to pour her another round.            “Y’know, Hank’s been comin’ here bout’ three months now, but still hasn’t said a word about himself t’me. So what’s ya secret?”      Viv’s laughter was instant and sympathetic. “I haven’t gotten much out of him, but at least now he isn’t scowling every time he sees me.”      “Now that’s a damn miracle,” he agreed as he set down the bottle, took a seat at the stool in the open corner behind the counter, and rested his elbow over the bartop.      “Nah, he’s alright,” she admitted as she gestured to thank him for the drink. “It’s my temporary partner I’ve been having a hard time with.”      Reese quirked one brow in feigned ignorance and he turned squinty green eyes to regard her with interest. “You a cop, too?”      “FBI, actually,” she corrected as she flashed him her badge.      He pursed a low whistle and blinked hard in surprise. “Wow, bigshot- the hell you doin’ in Detroit?”            Agent Lenore popped her brows and shrugged as she sighed and balanced her glass between her fingers. “You know, I don’t really know myself,” she admitted with a sad smile. “I took a case as an excuse to come here and look for someone important to me, but I haven’t found any leads yet on my missing person.”      Sympathetic eyes inspected her with quiet understanding. “You even had time t’look?”      Vivienne shook her head. “Not really but- hell,” she paused and chuckled dark and quiet to herself, nearly mumbling out the last part as she stared into the mirrored wall behind the bar. “I don’t even know if he’s actually here.”      “What makes you think e’s in Detroit?”      “It’s where I told him to come when he ran,” she explained as she looked down into her glass. “I knew he’d be able to find help if he made it this far.”      Reese sat up and leaned over his elbow more as he leaned closer to her. “Well, you try askin’ that partner of yours?”            Viv’s laughter was sharp and telling. “You kidding? That mouthy little shitbird doesn’t care about anyone, but himself. He’d never help me.”      “Well,” he paused to reach for a wine glass from the rack overhead and swiped a hot, damp rag from out of the sink. “Ya never know unless ya ask.”      “Well,” she started as he polished the hard water spots off the glass, “That and, he’s not too wild about androids.”            The bartender froze for a split-second, but hid it well enough that she didn’t catch a whiff of his discomfort. “Ya lookin’ for an android? Thought you said you was lookin’ for a person.”      Lenore shot him the same dirty look she’d been throwing around a lot the last few days and snapped at him without holding back. “Androids arepeople.”      He couldn’t hide the creeping grin as it spread across his face, even when he looked away and shook his head. “Hey, I ain’t disagreein’,” he assured as he held the glass up to the light and inspected it closely. “Ya juss’ don’t hear moss’ folks talk like that, y’know?”      The agent snickered as she looked down into her glass. “Yeah, tell me about it…”            Viv lifted her cup and drank deep as he reached to put the glass back on the rack and swiped another just to keep himself busy, one of those learned work habits that were hard to break.      But when the silence turned uncomfortable, he glanced back to her and offered a piece of advice someone had once given him- something he’d taken to heart and tried to live by every time he’d met a stubborn asshole with a bad opinion.      “It ain’t impossible t’change someone’s outlook, y’know,” he offered with a sideways glance. “Some folks just need the right influence.”      Viv traveled the distance in her eyes back to the moment in a split second just to protest. “Oh, I really don’t think he-"      “There you go with dat thinkin’ again,” Reese scolded with a smile and a laugh as he leaned over the counter with both arms and looked her right in the eye. “Look, Viv- sometimes ya juss’ gotta take a leap o’faith and give em’ ya best effort. I mean,” he paused and glanced away to set down the glass and the cleaning towel in his hand. “I thought Hank was unreachable, but awll it took was a little charm from a pretty broad with a badge, and he opened up right quick to ya.”            Viv smiled and laughed at the same time that she groaned, and she grimaced as she slouched on the stool and stretched her arms across the bar. “Yeah, but Reed is…”      “Wait a second,” he interrupted as her voice trailed off. “Reed’s your partner?” The laugh that burst out of him was short and loud, ironic in its own way.      “You know him?” she asked in a dreadful tone.      “Nah,” he deflected as he bit his lip and shook his head, leaned back into the corner of the bar behind him and stared across the room at the door. “But Hank’s mentioned him once or twice. Sounds like a real jerk.”      “Yeah, he’s... he’s something,” she noted in vague reply as she shook her head and forced a smile to hide the frustration.      “Well, if ya need’ta bitch,” he started, looking back at her with a charismatic grin as he gestured around the room. “I got an open ear and a full bar, and I’m here aaaall night.”            The laughter that rolled out of her this time was genuine and relaxed. Viv turned to face him and leaned her temple against her hand, rolling her eyes as she started into her thought.      “Yeah, well, he’s a headache, but he’s not the one I’m worried about.”      “What now? There’s anudda one!?” The surprise in his voice shook the question as it came out, and she chuckled.      “Yeah, my boss is in Detroit.”      “Jeee-sus,” he mused as the corner of his mouth dipped down in slight disgust. “The hell’s happenin’ to this town?”      Viv tipped her head and shrugged as he crossed his arms. “The situation with deviants is escalating quicker than we can catch them,” she admitted with a sigh and ran a hand over her dark undercut.      Reese blinked evenly and reached back for the bottle he’d been pouring from, and set it down between them with a nonchalant, “Yeah? Well, why don’cha tell me about it. Like I said, I got all night.”

[halleiswriting]

A Strange Magic Excerpt

Here’s a scene of the first chapter from my WIP, Strange Magic. 

Maybe it was insensitive, or maybe a little stupid, but Amantha Waller spent the first night of the apocalypse at a mortal’s Halloween party.

    If you didn’t know anything about the impending doom of armageddon, then you would probably think that she, and the other two dozen witches crashing Craig Erwick’s rager, were heartless, and probably very lonely. If you did know about the impending doom of armageddon, then this decision didn’t sound so strange. After all, the end of the world had been stopped five times before in the last three thousand years, and the savior was being called upon in just a few days.

     Besides, the party-crashing hadn’t even been her idea. Her older brother, Cain, had shown up at her doorway at nine o’clock with a juul between his teeth and a fake stethoscope around his neck. He, just like the prior year, was outfitted in a sexy nurse costume, and had persuaded her to wear a vintage witch costume (not ironic at all) with a pointy hat and broom and everything. And then they, joined by friends Eran and Sinclair, left for the party a few blocks from Sermyce, their school.

     Cain and Eran had disappeared an hour ago, leaving Amantha and Sinclair alone in the kitchen to be ogled by future frat boys dressed in dumb costumes such as “Nudist on strike,” made clear by the sign hanging around his neck. Ignoring them, they watched at the chaos surrounding them. Beer pong in the dining room, Never-Have-I-Ever by the coffee table, and god knows what upstairs.

     “They’re going to notice we snuck out,” said Amantha, sipping on her spiked Hag’s Brew punch.

     “Who cares?” Sinclair shrugged, costumed in Slytherin robes. “It’s not like we’re the only kids from Sermyce here. See—!” She pointed to a group in the corner of the living room. “Polly and Geoff are here. Candace and Taylor, too. Oh, look! Marian came. When did she dye her hair? Wasn’t it black in class today?”

     Amantha’s eyes widened as she scanned the house, stopping at a small group by the stairs and focused in on red hair and a short, white dress. “Is that Stacy?”

     “Stacy? At a party? Doubtful.” Sinclair laughed, looking closer, and then abruptly stopped. “Oh, shit! That’s Stacy fucking Blankenship! Am I in the right universe right now?”

     Anastasia Blankenship, or Stacy, as she was better known by, had been Amantha’s arch-nemesis since their first year at Sermyce when a harmless game of Truth or Dare got out of hand during a sleep over. Ever since then, she and Stacy had competed for everything. Top grades, favoritism from teachers, even stupid things like getting the last bag of each other’s chips from the vending machine. And of course, the Sermyce Elder Board chosen position of Samhain speaker for the holiday festivities that next day.

      Thinking about tomorrow’s assembly only made her blood boil, and whenever she saw Stacy, she could only think about how she had cheated her way into being chosen to deliver the speech.

    “I don’t understand.” Amantha sighed, staring as Stacy tipped her head back laughing at her roommate, Lily-Rose’s joke. “Why is she getting trashed at a party the night before Samhain? I mean, the lengths she went to so she could deliver the damned speech, and now this?”

    “Yeah, she’s worse than Satan,” said Sinclair flatly.

     Amantha gulped the rest of her drink, then tossed her plastic cup into the overfull trash can across the room. “I know, I know. I’m insufferable. But she took it too far with the speech—I mean, she took my voice from me! Who does that?”

     “Look, Amantha, either you can keep complaining about the injustice of it all, or you can get off your ass and do something to make it right.”

     “Principal Becraft will never listen,” she said.

     “That’s not what I said.” Sinclair jumped off the counter to face her. “I’m saying that we teach her a lesson ourselves. Cut out the middle man.”

     “So, what? We hex her or something?”

     “Yes, that’s exactly what we should do,” she agreed, taking a handful of chips from the bowl.

    Amantha laughed. “We can’t just hex her. You know the rules. Absolutely no jinxing or hexing allowed outside of school lessons. If we got caught, or if Stacy reported us, we could get detention until graduation.”

     “Stacy is a lot of things, but she’s no snitch,” she said. “She deals with her own shit, and so should you.”

     She shook her head, taking an orange frosted cupcake from the snack table. Amantha watched as Stacy stood and made her way in their direction, angel wings bouncing behind her. She raised her eyebrows at them as she refilled her cup with tap water from the sink.

     “What are you two staring at?” she asked, her voice saccharine sweet.

     “Oh, just a conniving, two-faced twat, is all,” said Amantha.

     Stacy turned and took a sip of her water, rolling her eyes. “Sticks and stones, Waller. The only one you’re hurting with those insults is your cerebrum. You should really give it a rest sometime. It works hard enough with that mediocre spell casting you do. Don’t want to trigger any migraines. Did you know that stress can be fatal for the weak-minded?”

     “If you think so low of me then why did you feel the need to literally take my voice from me during the speech auditions, Stacy?” she asked. “Or are does my ‘mediocre spell casting’ threaten you after all?”

     “Are you accusing me of something that warrants expulsion, Waller?” Stacy covered her agape mouth with a melodramatic palm.

     “Please, Stacy.” She scoffed. “I felt fine all day. Then I just happen to lose my voice? I don’t think so.”

     “We live in a strange, strange world,” said Stacy.

     “Not that strange,” she disagreed.

     Stacy didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “I like your costume. Very cute. Did you steal it from my ten year old sister’s closet? I think she wore the exact same one two years ago. Hat and all.”

     “Did you find your costume in the bargain bin at Party City?”

     “Alright ladies! How about we cool down, yes?” Sinclair interrupted. She tugged on Amantha wrist, but she stayed where she was.

     Stacy laughed. “Really, Waller. What are you going to do to me? Report me?”

     “I was thinking something a little bit more exciting than that,” said Amantha with a shrug. “I don’t know, I mean, I’ve always been a believer in the eye-for-an-eye punishment. Reporting you seems like letting you off the hook, right?”

     “So you’re going to steal my voice before the assembly tomorrow?”

     “No, you’d be expecting that,” she said. “I was thinking maybe turning you into a rat. Maggot? Maybe a tapeworm.”

     She raised an eyebrow. “Well, which is it then?”

     Amantha laughed. “It’s not called a surprise for nothing, Anastasia.”

     Stacy paused, then began to whisper something unintelligible with her eyes closed. She opened them and smiled. “I can’t wait to see what you decide on. Now enjoy that cupcake, Waller.”

     With that, she strut off back to her staircase.

     Amantha looked down at her cupcake, now wiggling with large, brownish worms.

    She let out a scream as she dropped the cupcake onto the floor and jumped back onto the counter. “I fucking hate that girl.”

     “Tainted space shall be empty space. Mess is no mess at all. With my breath, rid this mess beneath us all. Tainted space is now empty space,” Sinclair whispered, her words fast, as she clung onto her charm bracelet.

     Risking a glance, relief washed over her as the rotting cupcake vanished.

     “Thank you,” said Amantha.

     “No problem.” Sinclair readjusted her robes. “So. What’ll it be? Pretend this all never happened? Or make her regret ever bad thing she’s ever done to you?”

     Amantha looked back at Stacy, now whispering into Nisha’s ear, tuning out the non-unique rap music and weighing her options. She could either a) report Stacy to the school administration and get ignored, b) do nothing, or c) listen to Sinclair and teach Stacy a lesson with a harmless hex.

     Hexing did seem like the best option. And the most fun.

     She turned to Sinclair and grinned. “Tell Cain and Eran to meet me in the alchemy lab. Witching hour. We’ve got a witch to hex.”

@lady-redshield-writes @dreamwishing @aschenink

[mythgendered]

Archie Mega Man: No, it’s ACTUALLY about ethics in video game robotics!

Alright guys, cards on the table: I’ve talked a big game about what I like about the comic so far, with words like theming and worldbuilding and fleshed out characters, but now we’re really getting into it. We’re about to take our first real dive into the story that Flynn has been prepping for us. We’ve had fun in the first three arcs, setting up the stories to come with talks of free will and what it means to be a self aware robot, mashed in with fun adventures and at least one robot dog.

But now the kid gloves are...well, they’re still on, because this is still the super fighting robot comic and we have a lot of goofy adventures left in us. But! we’re switching to something cool, something that says less Mickey Mouse and more...Sonic the Hedgehog.

So let’s put on out fingerless kids gloves and dive into Spiritus Ex Machina, or TERRORISM AND THE ETHICS OF CREATING FEELING MACHINES!

Heads up, this is a long one.

With Dr Wily foiled again and seemingly off the radar, the Light family is afforded some relative peace -- and just in time for the Advanced Robotics Trade Show! It’s a time of meeting new faces and reuniting with old friends, and we are introduced to two of Doctor Light’s oldest friends and fellow roboticists: Dr. Mikhail Cossack and Dr. Noelle Lalinde.

The trade show isn't just about exchanging ideas, as Doctors Light and Lalindre take the stage to debate robotic ethics; namely, is it right to give a thinking, feeling AI to a robot meant for dangerous tasks? Is it ethical to let a robot feel emotion, even negative ones?

The debate gets heated, but before it can continue, the convention is hijacked by a terrorist group known as the Emerald Spears (ha, ha). The Spears are a militant anti-machine group, and they seek to put an end to the field of robotics through any means necrssary-- first through debate, then with the explosions they’ve planted around the convention center.

That leaves Mega Man, Roll and his new companions Pharoh Man and Quake Woman with little time and fewer options to save the day-- because while they’re programmed to help, how can they when they can’t harm humans?

And here we are! We’ve finally arrived at the meat and potatoes of Archie’s Mega Man, and what Flynn has been working toward for the past few arcs. Everything I said I loved about the comic takes shape here, built atop the foundation laid in Time Keeps On Slipping and even the first four issues.

There’s a lot to enjoy here, so let’s take things part by part.

Since Mega Man X introduced repolids and their free will, the franchise has had great potential for a conversation about the ethics of robotics, about how far science can go, or how far it should go. This is a conversation that Ian Flynn is clearly interested in, and the comic is all the better for it. It’s these questions that, while in the background of the last three arcs, are now irrevocably hanging  over the cast’s heads, looming over everything they do.

Is it right to create thinking, feeling robots? If we give them the ability to feel and choose, are we putting a gun to our head? Conversely, if we limit those choices, are we condemning thinking, sentient creatires to a shackled, hollow existence? Is it fair to take away that independence, especially if they won’t be able to care about what you’ve taken?  At what point does the gift of life become a cruelty-- and to whom is it the most cruel? 

If I’m sounding a bit pretentious, I hope you’ll forgive me--but these are the kinds of questions that drive the comic from here on out. And while Rock and his allies continue to struggle against the forces of evil, at times those supervillians merely serve as merciful distractions from the real, troubling implications of he world Thomas Light has ushered in. A world that, by series canon, arguably ends up hurting more than it does heal. 

It’s a wonderful level of nuance that Flynn brings to this setting, and one that grounds the otherwise cartoony classic era in a way that more naturally leads into the darker X series-- while still preserving the fiun spirit of it all. I’ll admit, I’m something of a sucker for these “soft existential crisis”angles in scifi stories, and the comic manages to balance it out with the super heroics admirably.

In fact, it’s that balance that drives the arc’s central conflict!

Rock isn’t fighting a group of rogue, reprogrammed robots, here. The Emerald Spears are wholly human, and that doesn’t just tie our heroes’ hands, it shackles them. Elec Man openly gripes about his uselessness, even bringing up that if he still had Wily’s evil programming, the story might have ended a lot sooner.

(Which, itself, is very relevant to the arc’s proceedings)

The conflict is something of a puzzle-- how do our heroes save the day without breaking the one rule they literally can’t break? The answer becomes working around he Spears, tricking them where they can and disarming them to reduce their threat. Ironically, it isn’t until the Spear’s impromptu new leader, Xander Payne (who we’ll get to in a moment), loses his patience and gets trigger happy that our heroes can fully fight back.

All the while the doctors trade words with the Spears’ leadership, continuing the ethics debate started at the arc’s beginning.

It’s a brilliant blending of physical and philosophical conflict, each joined together for a coherent, compelling storyline. This is easily the best the run has seen, with a gripping and intelligent arc that also sets up the stories and themes to come.

I know I’ve been repeating that a lot over the course of these pseudoreviews, so here’s the best time as any to just lay out our themes -- Flynn’s themes. Themes of what it means to be a living, thinking machine, and of what impact living machines have on the world. Themes of scientific progress, and where we should or even can draw the line. Themes of forgiveness -- who we can forgive, and who we maybe should stop giving chances to, and can we forgove ourselves? What consequences do our actions have, and at what point do good intentions stop mattering?

These are the questions the comic asks time and again, and rearely do they have clear cut answers, because these arent questions that can be answered simply.  But they’re questions that need to be asked, and are asked, and the comic is just...so much better for it, guys.

Hey, I said up top this reread would be a lot of gushing.

But let’s start talking nice about other stuff this good good arc does right!

As I said back in the first storyline, Flynn makes good use of his Mega Man lore to worldbuild. In three arcs, we’ve gotten references to Blues and Mr X, heaps and heaps of foreshadowing to the X era, and now we sre formally introduced to the Cossacks and future Mega Man 4 boss Pharaoh Man. It really ties the setting together-- of course these titans of robotics would know each other outside of Wily attacks. It’s also just nice to see these characters have a tangible presence in the workd prior to their “intended”  introduction in their respective games.

Plus, lookit that big hug Thomas gives his friend. That’s cute as heck!!

But even with the worldbuilding, it also gives us that sweet, sweet dramatic irony we love.

Yeah Pharaoh Man, thats sounds like it would be rough!!

Flynn gets a little cheeky with the irony and he foreshadowing, but it honestly gets me every time and I love it.

But this arc doesn’t also just bring out the goods with established characters/- we also get a whole feast of brand new original characters!

Spiritus Ex Machina introduces us to Dr. Noelle Lalinde and her own robot master, Tempo, also known as Quake Woman. And guys? You know I talked a lot of love for Agents Stern and Krantz. I love them. They were great characters when they were inteoduced, and they will continue to be great characters in every story they feature in.

But I absolute ADORE the Lalinde family, and Tempo herself may just be my favorite of all the comic’s original characters.

(Also, say hi to Pedro in the corner there! He’ll be important soon, and meshes the comic’s strengths of OCs AND established characters.)

In addition to adding a much appreciated female presence to the Mega Man Universe, Tempo and Lalinde embody many of the comic’s themes of sentient AI, robot emotions and familial forgiveness. Theirs is a tragic, but ultimately happy, story of pain, loss and growth. I. Love. Them.

This arc primarily focuses on Dr Lalinde, and how Tempo’s accident affected her and hew worldview-- explaining the hard stance she took against Thomas “my robots are my children” Light during the debate.

Tempo is more of a...presence than a character here, which is the point-- Lalinde took something from her, something unimaginably precious, and left her literally a shell of what she once was. Future issues will focus more on Quake Woman herself, and we’ll get to see how these same effects impact her, so I’ll save that discussion for later. This post is already getting long enough, and I haven’t even touched on the bad guys yet!!

The Emerald Spears are...alright antagonists. They serve as effective bad guys in Dr Wily’s absence, and their more realistic approach to terrorism contrasts well with the Mad Doctor’s own theatrics and literal mustache twirling. I don’t see Xander payne chainsawing a Japanese cyprus with a cord plugged into it.

They also provide a more philosophical counter, by harshly and violently pushing back against the pro-robotics ideals of Dr Light and his colleagues. They fear and hate the dangers advanced robotics pose, and are working to prevent the undermining and extinction of humanity. And honestly? Take one look at the X series -- heck, the Zero series!! -- and tell me they’re not a little right to worry.

I mean, they’re absolute monsters who threaten countless lives in pursuit of a bruitish, self serving and discriminatory worldview but uh...things really arent great for humanity in any of the multiple bloody robot wars that consume the planet over several series and centuries.

What I’m saying is, theres another layer of dramatic irony when your shortsighted, idiotic doomsday cult happens to be right, you know? This never happens in the Battle Network timeline!

The Emerald Spears are bunch of preachy, annoying jerks, but their presence is welcome in this setting, even if Xander Payne is an absolute weenie!!

In what appears to be a soft retcon, Xander Payne is (re)introduced to us as this sunglasses dude from Issue #2. Since hen he’s become a fanatical, robot-hating terrorist leader because, uh...

Because Elec Man zapped him and now he’s got a sick robot eye??

Ok, so Xander’s is not exactly the most...tragic of backstories, especially by this comic’s standards. He might be, in fact, 100 percent a dick. And yeah, that mostly has to do with him trying to bomb a bunch of innocents and his own men, but its really informed by him being such a baby about it all!

I’m of two minds with Payne-- on one hand, he’s kind of a whiny baby throwing a tantrum at advanced robotics, and he has a really gross pencil stache. But again, there’s a certain narrative beauty to a major antagonist being this much of a weenie while, again, kind of also being right!

His presence is not as irritating as it could be, and he largely justifies himself with later, far more interesting revelations than “I never asked for this sweet robot eye.” 

But enough about that! lets talk about he really interesting bad guy!

Dr Wily rules the B Plot of this arc, which sees him exploring the mysterious Lanafront Ruins and discovering several ancient technologies-- the largest of which begins building for him a brand new army of robot masters.

This is largely set up for future arcs, the Super Adventure Rockman adaptation in particular, but--

Actually, can we take a moment to sppreciate how cool it is that the comic adapts Super Adventure Rockman of all things? And well before Mega Man 3! That is just so wild to me, and reson #413,612 why I adore Ian Flynn’s writing.

But anyway, In addition to setting up future arcs and adaptations, Dr Wily’s subplot here lays the foundation of the...well, of the Wily Family. The Wilybots had loads of personality in the MM2 arc, and that doesn’t go away when Ra Moon ressurects them. They banter, talk with each other, welcome in the newcomer MM3 bots and...it’s really solid setup for character beats to come. Wily and his robots have been fairly straightforward antagonists to now, but once he Curse of Ra Moon takes its toll, the character development train barrels toward them at full speed.

But we’ll get to that.

For now, we leave the arc with one last character introduction, though we’ve seen him at least once before.

If it isn’t apparent by now, I think Spiritus Ex Machina is a wonderful, wonderful story arc. It’s a kind of turning point for the comic, where the storytelling steps away from the face value of super fighting robot antics and really considers their consequences and implications.

It’s where the comic’s  world really comes alive, with more characters and a more realized setting. Things are different from here on out, in exciting and wonderful ways. Like I said last time, hearts will be broken, allies will be made, and worlds will collide -- and I’ll be loving every second of it.

God bless this comic, y’all.

[rivas31breum-blog]

Are Nonstick Pans Safe? Fact Concerning Nonstick Cookware.

No matter whether you're an amateur cook, an enthusiast or an expert in the cooking area; everyone understands that you need the right pots and pans to produce a mouthwatering dish; a dish that brings life to the table. This light-weight ceramic pots and pans set is perfect for all cooktops other than induction. So, kitchenware collections attempt to anticipate your requirements by supplying small, tool, and also large pots and pans. Most nonstick pots and pans is not suitable for induction cooktops. After anodization, the light weight aluminum of this cooking equipment ended up being more powerful than stainless-steel two times.

Cooks Common NC-00232 12-Piece Multi-Ply Outfitted Stainless-Steel Kitchenware Establish is a selection for lots of home and also specialist cooks Due to the fact that you do not need to include much oil or butter to prevent foods from sticking to the frying pan, nonstick pots and pans is an excellent alternative if you eat a low-fat diet regimen. This is where a collection of quality camping cookware truly comes in useful. When taking into consideration the material of the pots and pans collection, remember of what accessories you have currently at home. An anodized kitchenware is taken into consideration as a food preparation set that is made from aluminum. The pans are rather similar in terms of numbers: this collection weighs a little more than the initial T-Fal set assessed, meaning it's got a bit much more heft, yet the distinction is low. One fantastic point with a nonstick cookware collection is that, they are easier to prepare with as well as tidy, making them a home chef's preferred. The collection includes a superior food preparation surface area that supplies well balanced meals since it does not discolor or react with the food being prepared. The outside of the kitchenware is difficult anodized as well as really simple to clean. This pasta cooker collection is from Verdugo Present and adopts the typical look of pasta pots. GreenLife started in 2013 with the idea of creating a 'Environment-friendly Life' kitchenware choice to bring healthy and balanced cooking within everybody's reach. All the surfaces of this set are non-stick as well as created for easy cleaning. There are some brand names that have good alternatives yet however, I have actually yet to discover a perfect choice (though I'm dealing with study to establish one!) Generally, if you aren't using old-school non-stick or cooking at extremely high temperatures, you can most likely feel alright regarding your pots and pans choices.

The material of your cooking equipment is an additional crucial component as a result of just how some foods will respond to having contact with particular metals. Made of one of the very best frying pan products out there, the stainless-steel 4110, 10-inch fry pan includes a broad, flat base, with a versatile inconspicuous. For these factors alone, you must actually think about buying this as your primary cooking area cookware set for your house. Light weight aluminum of the Rachael Ray Cucina cooking equipment collection is heat conductive so you can prepare foods utilizing them on various cooking tops as well as your food will certainly cook equally and fast. Although your cooking equipment may be labeled as secure for the dishwashing machine, it's still best to wash your pots and also frying pans by hand. Cleansing the kitchenware is easy.

This tool set works with any type of nonstick set (Teflon, porcelain, ceramic) so you can prepare without destructive or scraping the insides of your pots as well as pans. Occasionally using a slim covering of oil (called spices) to cast iron helps protect against those troubles, and also it produces a rather nonstick surface area on the cookware. Based upon the brand, this pots and pans collection may differ in rates. It's additionally worth keeping in mind that there is certainly a finding out contour when it pertains to using stainless-steel cooking equipment, so don't be prevented if you're not sure exactly how to cook food uniformly at first. Verdict: I prevent any kitchenware having light weight aluminum as there are far better choices. Because of the rubber takes care of on whatever in this collection, it's mosting likely to be actually comfortable for you to utilize as well as relocate around in your kitchen. that site are an affordable means of getting all your essential food preparation tools in one simple, good worth acquisition. Copper Pots And Pans Sets: Copper kitchenware provides excellent heat conductivity that cooks food uniformly. It is the most effective backpacking cooking equipment set for hikers seeing the weight of their packs that want a non-stick alternative.

[ruffsficstuffplace]

And The AWRD Goes To... (Part 32)

“Sweet Mother Beatrix, how is it even possible to have stored all of this without the house falling off from the sheer weight concentrated in this section alone?!” Diana cried as she sat on a crate, sweating and exhausted.

“It’s a skill myself, Nick, and the rest of the original crew picked up when we were still jetting all across Remnant on expeditions,” Freya said as she sat right beside her, holding her scroll out and tracking how many more boxes Ruby and Akko needed to take out. “As he would say: ‘It’ll fit, you just have to pack it in the right order.’”

“Mayhaps Atlas’ research into super-efficient storage containers should consult with you,” Diana muttered.

“We would, if not for how some of their new breed of researchers can be with the very notion that a problem has already been solved, before they brought their expertise and modern equipment to it,” Freya spat.

“I think we’ve got the last of them!” Ruby called out through scroll, before she read out the labels and their serial codes.

Freya double-checked her record, before she said, “Verified, that is indeed the last batch.”

“Really?” Akko asked. “Are you sure there isn’t more? Because I don’t feel that tired yet.”

“Fret not, Akko, you’ll probably be begging to be hauled back to bed once you’re done working through all your new reading assignments,” Freya replied. “Shutting off communications now, see you two back here.”

Diana groaned. “I really rather regret taking advantage of Atlas’ high-speed trams to get everywhere...”

“As someone who once thought she’d be just fine being the ‘intellectual’ of a dust prospecting team: yes, it would do you well to work on at least your cardio from here on out,” Freya said as she put her scroll back in her pocket. “If nothing else, be faster than the slowest member of your team.”

Ruby and Akko arrived soon after with a trolley loaded with Akko’s old study notes. “So, what’s next, Diana?” Akko asked as she and Ruby started loading the boxes from earlier onto it.

“What’s next is that we all get a fresh change of clothes before we head out, then all of us get a bath!” Diana replied as she and Freya got off the box. “I’m sorry, I understand the attitudes about personal hygiene are very different here in Mistral, but I just can’t while we’re all like this!” she cried, gesturing to herself.

“Bath first it is, Diana!” Akko replied. “You want to bike to Hoshiko, or just use the stream by here? I gotta warn you, though: the first is really tiny, and the second’s always cold, since it flows in from the tundras up north.”

“Stream, to save time,” Diana replied as she stepped past the doors leading to Nick’s workshop and Freya’s laboratory, and back to the living room. “It’s probably what I’m going to be stuck with come second year and when I’m deploying out in the field for real, might as well get used to it now!”

“Are you sure?” Akko asked as she and Ruby followed after her. “We need to have a wood stove right there for winter and really cold days, because otherwise we’d freeze.”

“Feel free to use it, we don’t lack for firewood up here!” Freya called out.

Diana sighed as she opened the front door. “Akko, Dr. Schnee, I lived in Atlas; I’m pretty sure all my years of winter survival classes, field trips, and venturing outdoors in general have adequately prepared me for the ravages of the cold, whatever phenomenon is sapping the heat from my body.

“Your concern is appreciated, but trust me: I’ll be fine.”

“Well, if you say so, Diana!” Akko said as she and Ruby hauled the trolley out and to the elevator, before they were off to the training grounds.

Aside from physical conditioning and combat training, it also had facilities for trade skills and much more theoretical and practical learning, such as a small shaded classroom with a well-worn blackboard and simple desks, a bare-bones workbench with the tools missing, and a counter for both chemistry and cooking, cast iron pots and pans present and stored underneath, but no glassware to be seen.

To Diana’s surprise, however, Akko kept on leading them on till they reached what looked like a massive, sprawling obstacle course, with platforms built up in the trees, tunnels and slides, sturdy climbing nets and rope ladders, even a series of zip-lines and pulleys to get people and materials around quickly and efficiently.

“Is this where you usually studied?” Diana asked as they started unloading the boxes.

“Yep!” Akko replied. “I pretty much know this place by heart from all the times Uncle Nick had me run it for agility practice; just have to combine the muscle memory with all the other stuff, and it’s just going through it enough times that I can run through it in my head, even while I’m sitting still, or especially while I’m taking a test.

“Does that make sense?”

“I suppose I’ll just have to see how it work later...” Diana muttered. “Where’s the stream again?” she asked as they reached the last of the boxes.

“Just over there, actually,” Akko pointing off into the distance. “Want to head out now?”

“Yes,” Diana said, picking up a Duffel bag with all their clothes and towels and handing it to Akko.

“You guys go on without me,” Ruby said as she scanned the labels on the crates, pulled out her scroll. “I wanted to actually crack open these boxes and see how it might all fit together, have it on the back-burner,” she said as she started scribbling with her quill.

“Alright, but don’t take too long!” Diana said. “I’d like for all of us to be present and setting this up as soon as possible.”

“I won’t, I promise!” Ruby said as she wrote.

Akko and Diana headed off to a well-worn wooden path leading downhill, the brush and the branches recently trimmed and cut back. “I’ve been meaning to ask, Akko, what was it that you said exactly to Weiss all those years back?” Diana asked as they walked at an unhurried pace.

“It was a speech I made up on the spot after I helped Weiss get out of one of her most serious depression funks,” Akko said. “I didn’t want to say it because it’s really long, Weiss’ looked tired from all the crying, and you’d need a lot of the context and history between us to really understand most of what I was saying, and why it was so important.”

“Do you mind enlightening me about some of it, then?” Diana asked. “How you two met, and became friends would be a good place to start.”

“Oh, that’s easy! A long, long time back, when Shiny Chariot was still performing, I wanted to know everything there was about her—looked up all the CCT sites, read all the interviews and the press releases, even tried to send messages to all the people that worked with her to try and learn more about her, like the head of her technician crew, Croix Meridies.

“Well, the first two didn’t have as much as I wanted to know, and a lot of the third just never replied to me, or sent me one of those canned responses— except Croix, anyway. I still have her response on my scroll, actually,” Akko said, pulling it out, opening the decades old message, before handing it to Diana.

“’You ruin the wonder of a magic trick as soon as you learn how it’s done. Ask yourself if you really want to know, Akko.’” Diana read. “Well...” she muttered as she handed it back. “That’s… cryptic, and more than a little ominous.”

“Yep!” Akko said put her scroll back into her pocket. “At first I thought it was just her saying I’d spoil the fun of her shows, but then, after all the news that popped up after she stopped performing… aaaanyway, I was a super huge fan, and I was desperate for anyone, anything that could tell me anything new about Chariot.

“And it just so happened that this was right around the time Weiss and the rest of her family sans her dad moved here to Mistral.

“I always knew that Uncle Nick and Aunt Freya lived up in that house by the mountains, but they mostly just kept to themselves, and all I knew about them was that they were retired from their old jobs except when people called in favours, that Uncle Nick was super nice to everyone even if he shouts and swears a lot, and Aunt Freya is a mean old lady you don’t want to mess with.

“Well, I mean, they still are, but you get what I’m saying, right?”

“Right.”

“Anyway, I was trying to talk with her and make friends while her family was having lunch out at Hoshiko this one time—you know, just in general, because they’re new and anyone moving in is big news—and since I opened up with how much I love Shiny Chariot, Uncle Nick mentioned how he and Aunt Freya actually worked with Chariot and Croix back when they were studying at Haven.

“It was mostly because of their finding the Shiny Rod then, but Croix’s work in aura tech and dust applications caught their attention, too.”

“But why them, specifically?” Diana asked. “I’d have understood if they were full-time staff like they are right now, but why not any of the many other scientists, archaeologists, and/or engineers in Remnant?”

“Two reasons, Uncle Nick told me.

“One: they had a LOT of hands-on experience dealing with weird, mysterious crap no one understands—dust deposits big enough for a mine usually tend to attract a lot of weirdness, generally the kind that could kill you, seriously mess you up, or both.

“Two: it was easy to just call them up whenever and they’d come over, and because Croix and Chariot got into a LOT of trouble, pretty much all the time, it was hard to get anyone you had to get an appointment with a few weeks ahead of time, let alone have around almost as much as the full-time staff.

“Oh, hey, we’re already here!” Akko said as they rounded a bend.

Diana looked around, saw they were indeed at a gently burbling stream, the path ending at a wooden platform with benches for sitting; large tubs for throwing filthy clothes in; what looked like an antique washing machine if not for the clearly modern components; the wood stove Akko mentioned earlier; and toiletries and smaller tubs like in the Haven bathhouse.

“Guess I’m just going to have to tell the rest of the story another time!” Akko said as she put her bag down by the benches, started stripping out of her clothes and tossing it into one of the big tubs. “You sure you don’t want to try and fire up the stove?”

“It’ll take too much time,” Diana said as she followed suit. “As necessary as that conversation with Weiss was, it rather broke our original schedule.”

“Suit yourself!” Akko said, tossing Diana a tub, before she tested the water with her foot. She yelped, before she laughed, and waded in, shivering slightly. “It’s colder than usual today, Diana, last chance!” she said as she leaned down and scooped up some water.

“Again, I appreciate the concern, but it’s unnecessary,” Diana said as she tested the water, too. She bit back a yelp as she pulled her foot back—it was cold, really cold.

Splash!

Akko squealed with laughter, shivering for a moment before she reached out for the pump bottle of soap, and lathered up her hands and her arms. So it was that Diana figured that if Akko could handle dumping a tub full of freezing cold water over her head, she’d be fine.

Splash!

She was wrong.

Diana felt her body lock up as the tub fell from her hands, making a splash as it hit the water, floating for a bit before silently coming to a stop to a wooden bar made just for that. The scream that came from her as soon as she regained control was much, much, much louder.

Akko flinched, instinctively looked around in case Grimm had sneaked up on them. She relaxed when all she found was Diana now shivering and hugging herself, trying not to whimper or tear up. “Too cold…?”

Diana shakily nodded her head.

“Want to fire up the stove?”

Diana carefully turned to Akko and shook her head. “I-I-I’ll...” she started, before a cool breeze came by and her teeth chattered too hard to speak.

“Want me to use an old trick me and the others used when it was WAY colder than we expected?” Akko asked.

Diana furiously nodded her head.

“Okay!” Akko said as she waded over.

Diana’s eyes widened as she began her from behind, a noise died in her throat as she felt Akko’s soapy hands on her stomach, her cheeks began to heat up as she felt Akko pressing her chest against Diana’s back.

“Hugging always works, whether it’s warming up before soaping up, or keeping warm while we wait for the water to heat up!” Akko explained cheerfully.

A few moments later, Ruby rounded the bend herself. “Hey guys, so just studying the materials and the instructions for setting it up didn’t really...”

Silence.

“Oh.”

“No! Not ‘Oh.’!” Diana would have cried if she could, but instead it just came out as a pained whimper.

“We’re just hugging because the water was too cold for Diana!” Akko called out.

Ruby slowly nodded her head. “Should I go…?” she asked as she thumbed back the way she came.

“No!” Diana managed, even if it was just a whimper.

“… Okay then!” Ruby said as she headed down to join them. “So, how’s the water?” she asked as she took off her hooded jacket, laid it out on one of the benches.

“It’s a lot colder usual!” Akko replied. “I don’t know if you can handle it, so might want to pour it slowly than just dump it all over your head than Diana did. I’m good for hugging if it’s too cold with you too, by the way!”

“Thanks, appreciate it!” Ruby said as she stripped out of the rest of her clothes, stepped a foot into the water. “Woah!” she cried as she pulled it back. “Man, you weren’t kidding!” she said as she grabbed her own tub, and waded in.

“Want to try and fire up the wood stove?” Akko asked, still hugging Diana. “Diana might not agree to it, though.”

“Nah, it’s cool—it’s not nearly as bad as some of the winter-time courier runs I’ve had!” Ruby replied, before she dumped some water over her head.

Splash!

Ruby squealed with laughter, shivering before she set the tub down besides Akko’s. “Yep, not nearly as bad—and I don’t even need to keep moving to stay warm!”

“Speaking of which… you all better now, Diana?” Akko said, casting a glance at her.

Diana nodded, her face red. “Yes… you can let go now, Akko...” she whispered.

Akko did, and the three of them went back to cleaning themselves up, though Diana was noticeably quiet as she faced away from them. However, things quickly went back to normal as they toweled themselves off, changed into fresh clothes, and headed back to the Training Grounds.

“You were saying earlier, Ruby?” Diana asked as she looked the opened boxes, some of their contents laid out.

“Studying them by myself wasn’t as productive as I thought it would be,” Ruby replied. “The instructions for setting them up had a lot of short-hand and code that I can’t really understand. Lack of proper, legible documentation: as much a problem in engineering as it is in programming,” she finished with a nod.

“Really sorry about that,” Akko said as she unpacked their test model. “We used to make it easier for other people to understand, until we realized it was really only just me, Weiss, and the rest of her family setting these up, so we all got used to reading the code without a key on hand to save time and effort.”

“None of your other friends ever helped with these reviews?” Ruby asked.

Akko visibly winced as she was pulling out rolled up tarpaulins.

“… Sorry.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine,” Akko said as she pulled out the rest of them. “I figured it was going to come up at some point, anyway, so I might as well tell you guys that I was always the one dragging the entire class behind. I was pretty terrible at basically everything about being a huntress, up until I became friends with Weiss, and Uncle Nick and Aunt Freya started offering to have me over for training and tutoring over the summer and on Saturdays.

“I couldn’t get good grades at grade school, sucked at all the electives meant to get a leg up for when I was old enough for combat school, and because my aura levels were super low back then, and I found my semblance SUPER late, no one really wanted to be teammates with me.

“It was even harder when Shiny Chariot disappeared, and everyone but me seemed to forget all about her...” she muttered as she pulled out a box full of random knickknacks, got a far-off look in her eyes. “… So, yeah, even if this IS how I learn best, it’s going to be a hell of an uphill climb in a snowstorm, and you forgot your warm jacket at home.”

Diana put a hand on her shoulder, and smiled. “Fret not, Akko: I know the feeling.”

Akko looked at her in surprise. “You do...? But you’re super good at, well, everything.”

“But it wasn’t always that way,” Diana countered. “My aura levels were exceptionally low when it was unlocked for me, and it took a full two years for me to finally manifest my family’s semblance. I only have such ease with academics because I spent all my free time in my family’s library studying, or training, which, ah…”

She sheepishly looked away. “… Had its own consequences... mostly to my social life as well, actually.”

Akko blinked, before she smiled. “Huh. You know, it’s kinda funny how we’re all so similar in a lot of ways; except for Weiss, I thought we couldn’t all be more different, like oil and water, wouldn’t mix kind of different.”

“’Dig deeper,’” Ruby said.

“Pardon?” Diana asked.

“’Dig deeper,’” Ruby repeated. “It’s what we said in the Bunker, when it seems like there was someone who felt like they couldn’t make friends with anyone. You just gotta open up more, till you find the thing that’ll make someone want to open up to you, too, and when that happens, you can start making a real connection.

“… Well, actually, we also said that because our storage facilities only ever went deeper and deeper down because of how the school is designed and because we can’t really expand horizontally, and sometimes something gets literally buried underneath a whole lot of other crap…

“But you know what I mean, right?”

“Right,” Diana said. “Look, much as I enjoy how much we’re all bonding, opening up, and strengthening our friendship here, we should really get to studying. Team AWRD to work…?” she said, hesitantly raising her palm in the air.

“To work!” Akko and Ruby replied, smiles on their faces as they started grabbing materials, and setting it all up.

[otc-dramaturgy]

Miranda Monday

This might be the best blog post I make this year, because it highlights the work of one of the hardest working people at Olney Theatre Center, Kate Brittingham, our Props Master, as well as the incredible work of Props Apprentice Grisele Gonzales (G-money, as she is known around these parts) and scenic artist Fred Via. Today, on our second design feature, we’re talking all about props.

Now, I don’t know if you all know this, but there are a lot of props in In the Heights, which Kate and Grisele were working on simultaneously to all three National Players shows. I don’t think either of these women slept for the first few weeks I was here. I had the opportunity to walk the set with Kate and Grisele and hear them talk about the hard work that went into things, as well as some Easter Eggs you might miss. (I’ve broken down the next bit into sections with hopefully clever titles for ease of reading)

"When You’re Home:” A Look at the Apartments

Our set, as featured on last week’s Miranda Monday post, has a second story, in which several apartments and fire escapes are fully functional. At the first rehearsal onstage, Kate and the other designers realized that, from our mezzanine, you can see inside the windows of said apartments, even with curtains. So Kate decided to fully furnish both of these two living rooms. 

The stage right apartment is described as being for a “mid-century young artist.” This person is traveled, as seen by the Chinese dragon on their wall, as well as the books inside their table (see below). Their artistic style is Cubism, as seen by the reproduction of a Picasso painting on their easel. 

The stage left apartment belongs to “an old Brazilian man.” He has a Brazilian flag hanging on the wall, next to a picture of Jesus, because he likes to “keep God and country close.” There are cigarettes in his ash tray and the photo on the table is of his family on the beach. My personal favorite touch is the monkey with cymbals who lives underneath the ash tray. (I’m led to believe, by this description, that the Cosmo on the coffee table belongs to the actress who uses this fire escape, rather than the fictional character Kate created, but maybe he has a penchant for sex quizzes, I don’t know, I don’t judge him)

More seen by the audience is the apartment of the Rosario family, featured in the party scene. This apartment, which coincidentally is right above Rosario’s Car Service (they have the same curtains), shows off the pride Kevin and Camila have for Nina: her Stanford acceptance letter and high school diploma hang on the wall, prominently displayed. Also on the wall are pictures of their extended family (these pictures are in fact of Grisele’s own family) and a lighthouse from the city they lived in before they moved to the United States (I didn’t get a picture of this, but you can see the frame on the edge of the first picture). 

Another small nugget that is hard to see from the audience are the mailboxes in Abuela Claudia’s building. Of course, Abuela lives there, but so do the five members of the creative team, Robin de Jesús, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Kate Brittingham, her sister, and Josiane Jones, our Associate Production Manager/ Company Manager. Unfortunately, these people are all living without air conditioning; a box fan is placed in a window. Perhaps this is why Abuela starts her song by saying, “Calor! Calor! Calor!” (translation: “Hot! Hot! Hot!”). 

Several of the apartments onstage are also for rent, as shown by the “Se renta” signs in the window; these buildings are owned by Latinx landlords, rather than Uptown Investments, who is buying up the block, as seen by the influx of their flyers across the block. 

Stage Business: Working in the Barrio

There are three businesses onstage: Usnavi’s bodega, Daniela’s salon, and Kevin’s car service. Each of these is filled with Easter eggs of their own.

The bodega, for instance, is fully stocked with products, both empty and full, that were provided by the cast, crew, apprentices, etc. The cigarettes on the shelves, for instance, are empty cartons from three different employees, who were having a competition to see who could provide more. One of those same packs of cigarettes is actually full, but sealed shut, because it was accidentally left onstage. Ironically enough, there is an advertisement for Newports on the wall, but there are no Newports available in the store. The baked goods on the top shelf were provided by our finance office, who always have snacks available. Kate, upon watching the invited dress rehearsal, realized that Usnavi talks about Abuela Claudia loving glass Coke bottles, so she bought some to make sure the bodega was stocked with them.

The fridge in the corner of the bodega is the old concessions fridge from our Lab Theatre. The cash register, which is fully functional, was borrowed from Signature Theatre. The Slushie Machine and the Pepsi Machine, due to space limitations, couldn’t be fully realized; instead, there are simply wall decals. 

The salon has a sign that says “Cash only,” with a sign directly underneath that says “American Express.” The mirrors inside had to be frosted because of the lights (and because the actresses in the salon kept looking at themselves during scenes). Daniela’s is closed on Wednesdays because the 4th of July, when the salon officially closes, would have been a Wednesday in 2005 (when we had initially discussed setting this show, though we’ve since updated it to 2008). 

Rosario’s Car Service has similar hidden gems. The mail, for instance, is printed and addressed to the Rosarios. The mic, which was bought for $9 on eBay, is actually fully functional, much to Kate’s surprise; this is highlighted in “Benny’s Dispatch.” There are papers on the board detailing shift schedules, as well as notes, etc. 

Paciencia y Fur: A Story in Animals

There are three birds on the set of In the Heights, one of which migrates during intermission. The first of these birds lives on top of the lamp post near upstage center. The second of these birds lives in a “New York” bird’s nest (a bird’s nest made of trash and all sorts of things that don’t belong in a bird’s nest) on a stage left fire escape. The final of these birds, nicknamed Sketch, was backstage when I visited him; he lives on the trashcan near upstage center, but flies away during the riots at the end of the first act. Scenic artist Fred Via really brought these birds to life by adding bird poop on the fire escapes. 

(Yep, that’s me and Sketch hanging out in front of an Uptown Investments flyer)

There is a cat in the bodega, named Fe (as in Paciencia y Fe), who similarly flees during the riot. Fe is electronic and therefore moves at several points during the show. There was a Paciencia, but Marcos Santana, our director, decided that she was “too clean,” saying that she was “an upper East Side Cat.” (Ironically enough, Kate didn’t buy Fe. She was looking at electronic cats on eBay, but didn’t purchase it. Then, several days later, Fe showed up at her door.)

There are also four rats in the sewer. The sewer is in no visible from the audience; there is a grate onstage where subway lights and steam emerge from, but there is no direct line into it. However, if you come to the edge of the stage, you can look in and see one rat sitting atop the hazer, with three rats near him. Kate says, “They are having a meeting to conspire against us all.” 

Also featured on the set are two dogs. No, not real dogs, that’s happening in Annie, don’t get ahead of yourselves now. There are lost dog posters hanging throughout the set: one of these features Kate’s dog, Penny Lane, and the other features the recently-deceased dog of Marcos Santana and Nova Bergeron, our assistant director. 

“She sang the praises of things we ignore:” Other Odds and Ends

There are plenty of other things to note about Kate’s amazing prop work:

- In New York, it is illegal to put plants on fire escapes. Marcos asked Kate for “illegal” plants and she said, “Like marijuana?” Four of these plants can be seen in the show.

- The payphone, which is owned by Olney Theatre Center and has been borrowed by many of the local theatres, is the only push button payphone prop that Kate knows of in the D.C. theatre scene. There is a quarter in this payphone during the show, but it gets stolen by an ensemble member. 

- There are posters onstage for a Dia De Los Muertos event; in the club scene, the eyes on these posters glow.

- The garbage cans onstage normally live outside, in the Bank of America Plaza at Olney Theatre Center

- We set this in 2008, which allows us to use smartphones; the first iPhone came out in 2007.

- The fire hydrant, which is from Traverse City, Michigan, was originally yellow, but Kate painted it black, per Milagros Ponce de Leon’s research; the rusting effect was added by Fred. 

- There are a huge number of flags used in the show: three from the Dominican Republic, one from Puerto Rico, one from Mexico, one from Brazilian, and one from Cuba. Kate provided stage management a “How to fold this flag” guide, to ensure that we are being respectful. The Puerto Rican flag was the hardest to find, because the flag commonly sold in the United States is the wrong shade of blue. These “wrong” flags use the same shade of blue as the American flag, but it’s actually much lighter. The Puerto Rican flag painted on the Piragua cart is the correct shade of blue as well. 

- Speaking of the Piragua cart, there’s a rumor that Marcos said it’s better than the one used in the Broadway production. 

- Two Baby Ruth bars have disappeared from the shelves in the bodega... 

- Fred Via deserves another shout out; his attention to detail is massive. For instance, he painted all the graffiti seen onstage, as well as the “Yo <3 Mi Barrio” on the back wall. His work on dirtying the set, adding dirt to ledges and such and the aforementioned bird poop, shows just how much focus went into this set. 

Alright, I know that was a long post, but I’m so happy I get to highlight these amazing artists. Come see In the Heights to see everything they and the other designers have done!