#so i suppose YOU should take the first step and lead by example and stop recording and maybe the rest of the world will follow suit

[unveiling-unguarding]

Let's fix the story of Dragon Age: The Veilguard pt. 1 - Prologue

I have spent the last week-ish just stewing and thinking about all the things that bugged me about Veilguard's story. Things I knew would bug me going in, having seen the gameplay reveal of the intro mission, but thought would fade as the game got over the hump of an awkward start. Nope.

This game, unfortunately, has such massive structural problems that I need to try to rework the basic skeleton of the narrative for my own sanity. So while my first instinct would quite frankly be to scrap the whole premise of what we got, I'll stick to doing some amateur developmental editing.

First things first, Bioware seems to not understand why people have wanted origins back in Dragon Age and are content to give lip service to various backstories without implementing the real reason people loved them - they mattered narratively, were intrinsic to the plot and various subplots, and provided solid character motivation at the very beginning of the story. For example, the human noble origin starts your warden's story off with the betrayal and murder of your parents at the hands of supposed close friend Arl Howe. So now you have very personal motivations to leave your home, become a Grey Warden, and be an active participant in the political landscape of Ferelden. Same goes for each of the origins you can play, each of which introduces the player to subcultures and subplots important to the setting.

Like Veilguard, Inquisition didn't do well with this, but it was fine since the real narrative hook for why the player's character becomes the protagonist is them gaining the anchor and stepping out of the fade in the wake of a world-altering calamity under uncertain circumstances. And most importantly, the game allows you to roleplay how your character feels about the whole thing. Rook, on the other hand (heh), is a character who only gets a short paragraph, functionally identical no matter the faction, about pissing off their higher ups before being recruited by Varric. Supposedly, Rook travels with Varric and Harding for the better part of a year before the game takes place, a timeframe we only learn a couple hours into the game.

This is all coupled with some painterly cutscenes where Varric gives us the lowdown on Solas and his plans. Which is fine, but does the bare minimum and gives our player character no personal stake in the story. We are left to infer our pre existing relationship with Varric (and Harding) and our Rook's reasons for stopping Solas. You can kind of define those reasons later on, but they are rather shallow and the game does not give them their due emphasis. Not to mention this comes at a point in the story I'd argue is way too late.

What should have happened to start the game was a mission that allows us to both define Rook's relationship with Varric and their stake in the story. You could conceivably come up with any number of specifics for this prologue mission, so I'll forgo getting too into the weeds, except to say that it should in some capacity involve Solas' agents that were seen and hinted at during Trespasser. Since the game insists on allowing Rook to be from one of six factions (a seeming holdover from the pivot away from a live service model for the game), the game should start off with a mission about narrowing Solas' ritual location down. Allow us to banter with Varric about the months leading up to that moment. Allow us to elucidate our feelings on what Solas plans and our taking leave from our faction. This would provide a great opportunity for have race or faction reactivity upon learning he was last seen in Minrathous, whether you're an elf or qunari hesitant to go to place that is generally hostile toward people like you or a shadow dragon eager to return home.

This would be a perfect lead in to contacting Neve Gallus for help and the existing opening mission, if you absolutely have to keep it in the game. I am still annoyed about John Epler stating that they wanted the beginning of this game to feel like the ending of a previous game. Why? That's the opposite of how a story should start. A story should start at the beginning, especially when one of their stated goals was to onboard new players to Dragon Age. It hamstrung them into leaving our main character's connection to Varric and the plot nebulous and undefined while they felt the need to shove in extremely awkward and on the nose exposition to tell the player about the veil, Solas, and ancient Elvhenan. Let the beginning of your story breathe, goddamn it.

Next up we'll talk about how the story handles Varric and why it's such a stupid fucking plot twist.

[dragonflight203]

Mass Effect 3 replay, Leaving Earth:

-Is there a reason you can’t set your difficulty level during character creation like in ME1 and ME2?

That’s a trap for new players that want an insanity trophy.

At least I remembered to reset my character points before importing my ME2 save this time.

-ME3 has so. Much. Damn. Autodialogue.

ME2 had some, but ME3 takes it to the next level. This is ridiculous.

It’s very clear that Bioware envisioned ME3 as a cinematic shooter, and they weren’t about to let conventions set by past games stop them.

-There’s zero explanation why Anderson’s an admiral if you made him the human councilor. You have to dig into the Codex later to figure that out.

Another example of Bioware putting critical information in supplemental material and not explaining it in game.

So much for the importance of your choices.

-This scene is a tad amusing for how much exposition it throws at you, but it’s not the worse example out there. It still could have used another pass or two to make it more natural

-I’ve always disliked how the Defense Committee are treated as fools.

It’s a cliched writing convention to make the main character look better by making everyone around them – especially superiors – be idiots.

Imagine how much more impact this scene would have if the Defense Committee were serious, prepared, authoritative… And still completely overwhelmed by the Reapers.

That would make Shepard stepping up to lead even more powerful.

-Speaking of, Shepard’s dialogue in this scene does not impress me. We need to survive! We fight or we die! We need to stand together!

Yes, Shepard, I think they figured that out. They’re asking you HOW. Are you suggesting the Reapers can be defeated if everyone’s handed a pistol and shoots them? I think a bit more strategy and tactics will be required. And just how are you planning to get the other species on board to stand together?

-The Reaper’s attack would be more impactful if I had any attachment to this city that I’ve never seen before.

-I understand that the kid is supposed to be a symbol, but he’s a poorly done symbol. His dialogue does not feel natural.

It’s also odd that Anderson walks in, sees Shepard crouching by a vent with a hand offered out, and just tells her to move on instead of asking who she’s speaking to.

-The kid should have come with Shepard and Anderson. Maybe help out at some point so the player grew attached. Then the kid dies as Shepard boards the Normandy because of a mistake on the Alliance – perhaps a shuttle attempted to provide a distraction and failed.

That would have given the players a reason to care about the kid, made Shepard’s failure to protect him more scarring, and given Anderson stronger motivation to stay behind on Earth.

At least it would have explained why the kid haunts Shepard’s dreams throughout the game.

-Over all I have a hard time taking Leaving Earth too seriously. It feels more like a level out of a generic shooter than Mass Effect. The vibes I get are closer to War of the Worlds.

It also highlights the struggle ME3 will display throughout. On the one hand, Bioware clearly wanted to make a war game. They wanted to use the standard tropes of ground battles, air support, the sacrifices required to win, etc.

On the other, their hands were tied by ME1 and ME2 being about eldritch abominations more powerful than this cycle’s ability to fight off. Those two games are centered around the Reaper’s invading being an automatic loss scenario and this cycle needing to find a third solution.

The solution Bioware came up with was to have a deus ex machina discovered in the first couple of hours of ME3 and built in the background for the rest of the game so Shepard can be the protagonist of the war game they actually wanted to make.

So the game has this strange dynamic where most of it is standard warfare and alliance building, with scattered mentions of how the eldritch angle will be dealt with.

Taken on its own terms, that’s not necessarily bad. There are many good moments in ME3.

However, as someone whose a huge fan of eldritch fiction and clever solutions to forces beyond humanity’s ability to fight directly, it’s disappointing. I would have preferred playing a game more similar to ME1 where Shepard was an independent agent whose goal was to find and execute a third solution to eliminate the Reaper threat.

-The scene where Anderson chooses to stay behind is well done.

The scene where the kid is blown up does not work for me. It evokes more of a “Really? They’re being that blatant;y manipulative?” response.

-I continue to bang my head against a wall as I attempt to decipher how spectres work.

Anderson says Shepard is a Council Spectre as he and Shepard go to the Normandy.

Then on the Normandy, he throws Shepard’s military tags at them to reinstate them into the Alliance military.

Shepard later says Anderson ordered them to go to the Citadel. Spectres don’t take orders from anyone except the Council.

This can be taken as Shepard obeying Anderson out of respect for him. However, in game the implication is that since Shepard has been reinstated that Anderson is their superior.

-Also, where did Anderson get those dog tags? Liara gave Shepard their tags back in Lair of the Shadow Broker.

I’m just going to assume their a new set Anderson’s been carrying around to give Shepard at the first available excuse.

-James’s anger at Shepard is understandable. He’s in shock at Earth being attacked and sees Shepard abandoning it. He was not there when Anderson ordered Shepard away.

I also appreciate that Bioware has him push back against Shepard so early on in the game.

Since he’s a new squadmate, it would have been easy to make him just support Shepard blindly in hopes this will make players like him.

However, by pushing back he demonstrates he’s his own person. This also avoids the trap of assuming players will care about a character because he’s been designed to be likable. James is very much intended to not be liked here; this scene was included to show his growth later when he agrees Shepard was right to leave and seek allies.

Codex

-Harbringer is believed to be the largest and oldest Reaper. He’s leading the attack on Earth

When was that decided and why? What, are the officials left on Earth meeting with him for afternoon tea to discuss what order to process the cities in?

-The Codex entries about cultures are missing.

This just cements how this game feels more like a war game than a science fiction opera.

[checkoutmybookshelf]

For the Love of All That is Holy, Stop Calling Your Love Interest Stupid, Benedict!!!

Dearest Gentle Reader, I suppose if you play with fire, you do eventually get burned. This Author has finally been burned by a Bridgerton novel. --Lady Bookshelf's Society Papers, 7 June 2023

So uhh...yeah. We gotta talk about Benedict Bridgerton. And we gotta talk about what the actual hell happened between book and Netflix series, because I found the series before the book, and even knowing that the characterizations were different, this book was JARRINGLY different, and not gonna lie, I absolutely cannot stand book Benedict and I fully do not understand the Benophie appeal. Now that I've finished painting a target on my back, let's talk An Offer from a Gentleman.

*Content Warning: Discussions of attempted rape/sexual assault. As always, take care of you first in your choice of books and book reviews, and never ever feel shame about skipping over books or reviews that aren't healthy for you to engage with.*

Ok y'all, I have recipts for this one, because book Benedict was basically a "too aloof and edgelordy to give a damn" and he really, REALLY needed to stop telling Sophie she was stupid or thinking too much. He also was hideously high-handed about blackmailing, coercing, and passive aggressively manipulating Sophie into doing the closest possible thing he can make happen to what he wants. He can't hear the word "no." His art seems somehow less important to him than the bowl of rocks at the cottage.

Show Benedict is a sweetheart artist with a wicked sense of humor and a real damn good sense for his siblings' moods and needs. I like show Benedict. I was prepared to yeet book Benedict off a cliff.

So real quick before this descends into incoherent screeching, I just need to point out the section where Sophie leaves the Cavendar's house during a party that is SUPER not safe for her. The "male lead saves the female lead from getting raped" is not my favorite trope in the world, but I'm not here to shame anyone for rescue fantasies. What I am here to do is explainin why Benedict is the WORST POSSIBLE EXAMPLE of this trope. I'm just gonna go ahead and put the passage up here, for ease. This is Benedict's reaction to seeing Sophie is an objectively scary situation:

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS REACTION??? What is this "ugh, I guess I HAVE to step in, what a pain in the ass FOR ME" nonsense??? This is not allyship, this isn't even--as Benedict tepidly says--"having sisters," this is just "ugh, I guess I have to be a hero, how annoying."

If you're going to do the rescue trope, it kind of works better if your leading man gives a rat's ass. Like, give him a strong position on rape being bad. Give him a motivation. Give him something other than an eye roll and vague irritation that he has to do the thing! He's not even particularly T-ed off with the guys in this situation, it's just...and event. That he has to deal with. Like going to the DMV or something.

Can we PLEASE not do this. This is gross, it is bare minimum, and frankly? It's the least interesting version of this trope. I wasn't a Twilight girl, but the scene where Edward rescues Bella from implied gang rape was done better than this moist tissue of a scene purely because HE GIVES A RAT'S ASS ABOUT BELLA.

Bare freaking minimum, your romantic leads have to have strong feelings for each other. Those feelings can be positive or negative, depending on whether or not you're doing enemies to lovers, but the feelings have to EXIST. And when you're dealing with limited third omninscient narration, the character in who's head you are should probably have stronger emotions than *eye roll* to keep it interesting for the reader!! We know Sophie is already in love with Benedict at this point in the novel, but we aren't in Sophie's HEAD just now.

I'm basically out of coherent things to say about this book, so let's just go over key examples of other things in this book that made me rage. It's not every instance, but it's a selection of demonstrative examples.

Let's check the recipts:

And just WHAT is wrong with speaking like a woman, Benedict??? Is it maybe because you think they're somehow LESSER than men???

TAXING HER BRAIN, BENEDICT??? Let the woman think for her own damn self for five seconds!

LET. HER. THINK. FOR. HER. OWN. DAMN. SELF.

YOU SPENT THE WHOLE BOOK TELLING HER NOT TO THINK AND NOW YOU'RE MANSPLAINING CLASS TO HER??? SERIOUSLY???

Oh, yes, call her stupid. That's a GREAT way to get in any woman's skirts, Benedict. (Please excuse me while I scream incoherently into a pillow in rage.) Punch him again, Sophie.

Wow, so you do ONE DECENT THING and suddenly you own her life??? PUNCH HIM AGAIN, SOPHIE. And no, gentlemen, going "oh shit, I am actually being a huge dick here" and then DOING THE THING ANYWAY does not earn you any points.

ACTUALLY SHE DOES KNOW WHAT SHE WANTS, BENEDICT, BECAUSE SHE IS A HUMAN PERSON WITH AGENCY!!!!!! AND SHE HAS SAID NO TO YOU LIKE FIFTEEN TIMES!!! Dear god, someone throw this man back in the lake and hold his head under.

FOR FUCKS SAKE-- *screams in impotent rage while channeling Beatrice's "would eat his heart in the marketplace" vibes*

So...I actually don't recommend this book. Don't read this one. Just enjoy show Benedict and we can all collectively pretend that the book didn't happen.

[lulu2992]

Hi again! Your answer to my ask about Joey got me thinking more about the "sermon" where John can be heard torturing her. I talked to my friend about it and I wanted to know your thoughts too, if you had the time. So John's four step plan to induct members into the cult are Marking, Cleansing, Confession, and Atonement (listed in this order from a note in Dutch's bunker). And from what we've seen/heard about Joey she's considered tough. John spends extra time with her because she just won't break, and npcs on both sides make comments about this. The timing of both her TV spot with John and the sermon where she can be heard are spotty at best. We don't know exactly when they were shot (though the TV spot is easier to guess) or how far apart they are from one another. But what we do know is John is torturing her (though the method by which isn't clear) and the sermon ends with her saying Yes in order to get him to stop whatever he's doing. I could be wrong, seeing as how John sometimes deviates from the steps listed and sometimes does them out of order (like making Nick atone without cleansing or confession) but this should mean Joey is a member now. That to reach the stage where John is trying to get a confession she's already been marked and cleansed, so all that would be left is John taking her sin. But... Joey never got a sin. Sure, it could be somewhere else on her body and covered by clothes, but nothing actually suggests that she ever got one. There's nothing to suggest that she was ever Cleansed like the Deputy or some other npcs either. Of course, whether or not she fully became a member (like Staci for passing the trials or Burke for walking the path) is irrelevant because she would have been rescued by the deputy regardless. So it seems like she says Yes and... that's it. She's not actually a peggie. We don't hear anything to suggest that she "broke" outside of this moment. And any amount of torture is too much, of course. No one would fault her for wanting the pain to stop. But it all feels like an inconsistency when we're left to imagine the worst, get told by Joey herself what a nightmare it all was, and then see her in her final bunker scene and she only looks slightly bruised, clearly changed but not broken. Despite her saying Yes she isn't considered a member by John or anyone else in his flock. Staci and Burke, to use them as an example again, are considered members. Staci gets to walk around and is tasked with different chores and can be heard conversing with peggies in some voicelines. Jacob calls him a Judas when he "betrays them" to help the deputy escape. Faith is mad that the player rescues Burke because "you made someone leave who didn't want to go." Obviously neither are willing members, but other peggies and their respective heralds seem to consider them such. And it seems unlikely that John would just keep her as his personal punching bag with how closely he adhere's to Eden's Gate doctrine (or tries to). That's the only other explanation I can think of for why her Yes didn't lead to her membership. I do think he has something personal against Joey, probably for resisting him and coming to arrest his brother, but his end goal is still to get her to join like everyone else. So... inconsistency? More than anything it's probably just that the game wants you to go after John first (despite being able to go in any order) so they made him as exaggerated as possible and made Joey seem like someone you'd want to save. Just kinda seems to fall apart under the magnifying glass, yk? Again I would love to hear your thoughts. Hope I got all my lore straight <3

Hi :) Considering it took several years to develop Far Cry 5, that there were more than 20 people on the writing team, and that the story and characters went through several changes, I suppose inconsistencies were inevitable, and that probably explains why John seems to sometimes deviate from the well-established Marking/Cleansing/Confession/Atonement ritual.

I don’t think Joey talks about ever being Cleansed, which is indeed strange. What she says even suggests she was taken directly to John’s Gate:

When they pulled me out of the chopper I thought I was dead. I could barely move. I saw flames, saw the peggies go wild, and thought y'all were toast… I tried to fight, but there were just too many of them… I was helpless. When they grabbed me... this person holding my right hand had a tattoo on her wrist that was exactly the same as the one my mother had on her shoulder. Funny what details burn in your brain when shit goes sideways. I screamed, they knocked me out... and I woke up in the bunker.

That said, they use bliss during Cleansings, so I guess it’s possible she simply doesn’t remember getting baptized. It’s probably just an inconsistency, to be honest, but that’s how I would rationalize it.

From what I understand, John usually tattoos people after hearing their Confession. It’s confusing because they sometimes use the word “mark” to talk about tattoos, but getting Marked simply means being designated. People receive a video and are “invited” to join the Project. And although saying “yes” is required and an important step, you only properly Atone when your tattoo is cut off.

But as you pointed out, Hudson never mentions a tattoo and doesn’t seem to have one. Maybe John never actually heard her Confession because what he primarily wanted from her was to sound in danger so he could use the recording to attract the Deputy, and maybe he stopped torturing her the moment she said “yes”. It’s also possible he couldn’t figure out what her main sin was and needed more time to think about it (and as “special” as she was, he had other converts to take care of), or maybe he was planning on tattooing her and making her Atone later but was killed before he could do it, I don’t know...

I’ve always thought her face was bruised because of the helicopter crash and not because of what happened in John’s Gate, but we can’t be sure. What’s certain is that she was in better shape than Pratt and Burke, so either she was stronger and more resilient than them, or what she experienced, albeit traumatizing, wasn’t as bad as what John wanted the Deputy to believe. He threatened to hurt her a lot but, in the end, yeah, he needed her alive and their goal is still to save people. She was “a challenge” but I don’t think he particularly hated her.

So she probably never Atoned, but if she had, from what I understand, she would technically have become part of the Family, yes (at least from the cult’s point of view; she didn’t want that). And because John made Nick Atone, I suppose that makes him a member of the Project too! By the way, since he, Mary May, and Jerome were supposed to Atone in the church in Fall’s End, that theoretically means the three of them were Cleansed and had to Confess at some point. The “Note to Joseph” (Seed Ranch) implies they were tattooed when Fall’s End fell under Eden’s Gate’s control, but you’re right, as far as I remember, Nick doesn’t talk about getting baptized or Confessing, which is strange. Jerome says he was captured and that John managed to make him “say things” before the Deputy arrived, so maybe that counts as a Confession. As for Mary May, a note in the clinic confirms she got a tattoo, and in the game (or at least in the files), she says:

Heard Pastor Jerome had you saving people from being kidnapped. John Seed did that to me. The fucker made me think he was going to torture me, too. Had me wait in a room for half a day thinking he was going to do it. All that fucker did was give me one of those ink jobs. It was messed up. You spared all those people a lot of anguish.

That’s pretty much what happens to her in Far Cry: Absolution. It’s weird John didn’t hurt her since Eden’s Gate believes “Confession without pain isn’t Confession”, though, but in the book, he explains she can be saved and join the Family if her sin is removed. Even though I don’t consider Absolution canon because of the discrepancies between the novel and the game, I suppose it’s still true that people only become part of the Project when they Atone, so when their tattoo is cut out. For whatever reason, it doesn’t look like Joey reached that step, so I guess she never really became a cultist.

[irismfrost]

August 12 - Kyoto Guided Tour and Fushimi Inari Shrine

Today I booked a guided tour for 10:30am. This means I had an early day because it takes an hour to get to Kyoto from Osaka, not including the time to buy a ticket or for me to get ready and eat breakfast (I am so glad I pre-bought hotel breakfast). By the end of my journey, I figured out how to use the self serve electronic ticket machine. In my tour, there was a family from New York and their son actually had the same name as my dad and brother, and is the first person I've ever met with his same name. There was also a mother-son duo from Zürich, Switzerland. And our tour guide was Kareem who is from Quebec and has been living in Japan for 5 years. His wife is Japanese and they have a one year old daughter that they're bringing to Canada in November for the first time. It was nice to make friends with everyone and honestly to just have human interaction in a language I know. We started in the bamboo forest and went to the nearby Shinto shrine. Then we went to the former home and garden of a famous Japanese movie star, Denjirō Ōkōchi, called Ōkōchi Sansō. This was his second home and he died one year after building it. It has themes of zen Buddhism, a popular sect of Buddhism here. Here, we stopped for a little break; there was a rest area with tea and some cold drinks. I hadn't tried Calpis yet (they had it in Taiwan) because the name threw my off but they had some here and it was actually delicious. We left the bamboo forest and walked to a zen Buddhist garden called Sogenchi Teien. It was a beautiful Japanese zen garden and is a classic example of a zen garden. These places intentionally make the steps a little rockier to make you walk slower and appreciate the nature around you, which I thought was a cool design technique. Before we broke for lunch, we tried some foods: we had this rice patty thing (which was basically what the outside of mochi is) and I bought some and will need to eat it right when I fly back to Florida because it expires on 8/20. We also tried this sesame chili spice topping (with rice) and I bought some of that too. We broke for lunch and our guide helped me find some vegetarian food and he joined me because by the time I ordered food we only had like 30 mins left for lunch and I told him about Taiwan. It's on his bucket list. We also took a brief stop by this Kimono park thing which had a bunch of poles with the Kimono fabric. Our last stop was a mountain with monkeys. It does not compare to monkey mountain in Taiwan, definitely more commercialized and a fraction of the hike, but it was pretty cool. You get to feed the monkeys through the wire cage and their hands feel like human hands which is a little unsettling but makes sense. There was also this cute little baby monkey and later I saw his mom carrying him around and back to the safety of the mountains away from the people. And that was the end of our tour.

Our guide and some of the other people in our group suggested I should visit Fushimi Inari Shrine - so I did. This is a very famous Shinto shrine and is known for its thousands of torii gates that lead to Mount Inari. The gates are basically sponsors and are an avenue for Kami (the god-like spirits) to enter through (that's why you are supposed to walk on the sides- to give spirits room to walk through the middle). Inari is the Shinto goddess of rice (perceived gender has changed over time, but in ancient times Inari is depicted as female). Today, Inari's domain is more than rice; over time rice was generalized to agriculture which is now just business. You pray to Inari for success in business. I prayed at a few different shrines along the way and I prayed at the top of Mount Inari. I will say taking pictures at religious monuments makes me a little uncomfortable and feels a little wrong. It supposed to be a sacred site and there you are making sure you take a picture of yourself to post - just seems a little disrespectful to the faith I guess is what I'm saying. And honestly, I took some pictures of my experience too and they will probably end up on Instagram so I'm being hypocritical. But I will say, some of these people are taking pictures of themselves with professional cameras in the middle of crowds holding everyone up, some are leaning on the torii, some people wait in the middle of the path for other people to pass them to get a picture. It just feels like the reason they're there is for a picture and not to immerse themselves in a culture. As you got closer to the top, there were less people because there are many opportunities to cut the loop short- it is a long and mountainous loop. And by the time I got back down, all of the tourist shops were closed so I didn't get any trinkets or charms.

This was a HIKE. I was basically doing stairmaster for an hour and a half. I was very dehydrated and even ate my emergency snack and laid down for a second. I had some protein (20g) chocolate milk from the convenience store before and after my visit to the temple and was very hungry so I picked up this bento box at the train station so that I wouldn't have to leave the hotel after I got there. It was so nasty. They didn't have anything vegetarian so I settled for fish and I didn't even eat it. The egg loaf saved me on the protein side. And I had the probiotic drink for dessert. yum. Those probiotic drinks are very popular on this side of the world.

When I flipped on the TV in the hotel today, I found myself on a news channel that was in English, but was for China. Consumers are spending more on services than goods. Consumption is also growing in China overall. Consumption is also less quantity and more quality oriented. I think these are trends that the rest of the world will see as well (at least for large first world countries like the US). When the weather turned on, I noticed that Taiwan was considered a part of China and it just hit me how even though Taiwan is so independent and has so much of its own identity, it still has a conflicting political stance. When I was there, I was in Taiwan, not the Republic of China (imo, for legal reasons).

more pictures in next post

[silver-rings-and-rabbits]

Open Heart 2 - Chapter 16

Sparks

A/N: Please note I am not a mental health professional. The techniques referred to in the chapter are based on my own experience with extreme anxiety and therapy. If you are struggling with your mental health, please speak to a mental health professional. On a lighter note, users @sazanes and @lorirwritesfanfic helped me with the Brazilian Christmas celebrations. Thank you both so much, I hope I did the scene justice.

The next day after movie night, Matthew quietly spoke to Ethan about being assigned a therapist. He met with Vanessa Hayes, who read Matthew’s medical report from the attack and listened to his own account. Matthew sat opposite her, on the edge of his chair, his hands clasped into fists as he recounted his fight for life and how much harder it had been to return to diagnostic patients than he thought.

“I wasn’t actively avoiding them, but it was like…something in my brain was telling me to look for something else to. I suppose I rationalised it like there were three other doctors on the diagnostics team who could handle the patient – even if it was my patient – and meanwhile someone somewhere in the hospital might need more help.”

“Trauma in the ER, for example?”

“Sure, or making sure my intern could handle her patient, or if someone was calling for help. The day I had my panic attack, I kept looking for patients who weren’t in the attack room so I wouldn’t have to go in, but then a nurse caught me and I had to authorise the next phase of the patient’s treatment.”

“No one was with you?”

“No…they were dealing with other patients.”

Vanessa made a note.

“It’s very common for a traumatized person to re-experience trauma when there is a benign stimulus connected to the event. In your case, the stimulus was the room of the attack, and I imagine this wasn’t helped by the fact it was your first time back in the room and you didn’t have anyone supporting you.”

“Dr Delarosa told me I wasn’t sick, it was my anxiety,” Matthew remembered. “So I guess that would be me comparing the physical symptoms of anxiety with the symptoms of the toxin and that all added to the stimulus.”

“Yes, that’s right.”

They discussed anxiety attacks from a general perspective – Matthew knew it rooted from the fight or flight survival instinct and Vanessa reminded him that the more he understood their nature, the more he could control his response.

“Sometimes it helps me to take a deep breath,” Vanessa said. “Because if I have time to stop and breathe, I’m not in immediate danger, and if I can stop and breathe, I start calming down. What I also suggest is, if you can, take a few minutes to put all your focus onto something completely different…like drinking a cup of coffee. Focus on the taste and smell. Step out of your brain before it leads to panic. If you can't focus on one thing, look for five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste."

Vanessa also advised him to take things slowly when it came to his diagnostic patients: he could brainstorm in the office with his colleagues without necessarily being in the patient room. Then he could enter the room for short periods of time, accompanied by his colleagues, staying for longer and longer periods as his confidence built up again. He had a strong support system; he should lean on it as much as possible.

Conversation then moved on to Rafael. Matthew was thrilled to have him back in his life, but was still scared of losing him. The fact that Rafael was also in therapy was slightly comforting: Matthew trusted that he was addressing his saviour complex and believed him when he said he didn’t want to risk in his life anymore. He was glad the issue was being tackled, he just wished it hadn’t come at such a huge cost.

Meanwhile, Edenbrook was preparing for Christmas. Coloured lights were hung in the front windows and an impressive Christmas tree was set up in the atrium, glittering with red and gold baubles. The nurses stations had coloured tinsel taped around the edge of their desk, and the peds ward was covered in decorations handmade by their young patients.

On Christmas Eve, Matthew rushed up to the diagnostics office where he had left his pager on the table and was surprised to find Baz in a Santa suit, adjusting a long white beard.

“Baz?”

“Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas, young man!” Baz boomed in a jolly voice, before switching to his ordinary voice. “Just about to do my yearly rounds on the peds ward. The kids don’t like spending Christmas in hospital, but a visit from jolly old Santa cheers them right up!”

“Adorable,” Matthew grinned. “First time I heard about that I assumed ‘Dr Mirani’ meant Zaid. Wait, what if someone sees him and recognises you in him?”

“First, how often do you think Zaid goes on the peds ward?” Baz said, when he was done laughing at the idea of Zaid dressed as Santa. “Second, it’s not that deep. Kids young enough to believe in Santa don’t look much further than the beard and red coat, and kids too old to believe in Santa would rather keep the dream alive.” He put on his hat and sauntered off down the hall.

Matthew visited the peds floor later, accompanied by Sienna, and Baz was right; a visit from Santa had revitalised the kids, who chatted eagerly about what they liked about the holidays and what they had asked for for Christmas. According to one of the nurses, the hospital had bought a small colouring book and teddy for each child to receive from ‘Santa’ overnight.

Matthew finished his shift mid-afternoon and called a taxi straight over to the airport where he met Holly, who practically bowled him over in a big hug.

“You look so well!” she said in delight, noticing how the colour had returned to his face, he was more fleshed out and his eyes less tired.

“I’m so glad you made it!”

They chatted a little about work and Holly’s plans for her five-day stay in Boston during the cab ride home. She was going to explore the city when Matthew was back at work, and she was going to visit Salem, but before that was the Christmas celebration at Juliana’s that night.

“And how are things with you and Rafael?”

“Really good,” Matthew said, with an automatic smile. “I mean it. When he’s around…it’s like everything is better.”

It was very difficult to doubt him when she had never seen him smiling like that before.

Later that night, they stepped off the T and walked through the neighbourhood to Juliana’s house, carrying overnight bags, flowers and wine. Juliana had insisted they didn’t need to worry about Christmas presents, but Holly had wanted to bring something, even if Matthew said it made them look like they were on a first date.

“If in doubt, flowers and wine.”

“What if someone has allergies?”

“Then the flowers can stay outside. What are Brazilian holidays like, anyway?” Holly asked. She was wearing a red wrap-around blouse and smart black trousers. Matthew had donned a sweater with a Christmas pudding on it.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “But Raf said it would be loud, with a lot of music, food and drink.”

Music and food was instantly confirmed when Natalia opened the door with a wide smile and they were blasted with loud music and delicious smells. Red and green tinsel adorned the walls and poinsettia plants were placed on the windowsills. Christmas cards were hung up everywhere, and the kitchen was full of plates of food and bottles of drink. Holly was greeted like an old friend by Natalia and Pablo, and then Juliana herself swooped over and told her how deeply honoured she was to meet her at last. Holly was surprised, pleased and more than a little touched. Matthew chuckled to himself and was about to look for Rafael when his arms wrapped around him from behind.

“Glad you made it,” Raf said. “Can I get you a drink?”

Beers in hand, Matthew and Holly were introduced to the ample family members: Juliana’s eldest son, Abe, and his wife Madeleine. They had three kids, older than Matthew, and several grandkids who were upstairs, trying to get some sleep before the feast. Juliana’s eldest daughter, Patricia, and her wife, Stacey. They had a small group of foster kids also upstairs. The next daughter was Marcia who was a divorcée and had four kids; one of whom was pregnant, and another had a toddler. Of course, Matthew had met Rafael’s parents, and then there was the widow of Samuel, Juliana’s youngest son who had taught Rafael to fly a helicopter before an unexpected heart attack. They had had two kids and so far one grandchild. Matthew had so many hugs and handshakes he felt a little dazed.

It was amazing how many people could fit into Juliana’s three bedroom home. Furniture had been rearranged so a large table groaning with food sat in the middle of the kitchen. A finely cooked turkey was in the middle of the table, red berries offering a splash of decoration. There was also a large ham with a shiny glaze, a large bowl of rice mixed with fruits and nuts, various salads and dishes of roasted vegetables. Juliana could have only spent her entire day cooking for her family. The sight of it all made Matthew’s mouth water.

He enjoyed seeing Rafael so relaxed. When he was at home, surrounded by his beloved family, a quiet confidence overtook him and he chatted and joked with ease, laughing loudly with everyone. Some of his smaller cousins clung to him eagerly, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Play acrobats with me,” the little girl begged. Raf gave her an apologetic smile as he ruffled her hair.

“I don’t know if I can do that right now,” he said, as her mom approached.

“Cara, Rafael’s still recovering, remember?” she said. “Max was looking for board games earlier, why don’t we see if he needs some players?”

“I used to spin her round and turn her upside down and said she was like a circus acrobat, then it became a game,” he explained to Matthew, as Cara went with her mom to find some games. “But I think that counts as ‘over-exertion’ for now.”

“Let’s hope Operation will be just as exciting,” Matthew chuckled.

“Oh, you’d be surprised how competitive the little kids can get. I think she’ll be just fine.”

As they spoke, someone loaded a Christmas CD into Juliana’s CD player and Brazilian music filled the room. A few of the couples started giggling and twirling round each other. Raf lightly rested his hands on Matthew’s waist. Seeing where this was going, Matthew wrapped his arms around Rafael’s waist.

“Looks like you’re not completely out of energy,” he said, as they gently swayed from side to side.

“Gotta build my strength somehow,” Raf chuckled. Matthew leaned up to kiss his cheek as Marcia snapped their photo.

“Sorry,” she grinned, as they looked over. “But you’re a very handsome couple.”

“Send me a copy of that when you get the chance,” Raf said. “Matthew, do you want another drink?”

Leaving Matthew in the company of his aunt, Raf went into the kitchen to grab Matthew another beer and a root beer for himself when Holly walked into the kitchen.

“Hello,” she said cheerfully, and Raf jumped slightly.

“Hi, Holly, how are you? Uh, can I refill your glass?”

“Could I have a glass of red wine?”

“Sure, I’ll get it now!”

Holly watched as Raf hurried to the wine cupboard and poured out a measure of pinot noir. His hand trembled slightly as he handed it to her.

“Are you…nervous?” she asked, accepting the glass.

“Umm…I mean…I really care about Matthew and he loves you a lot and…I probably haven’t made a great impression.” He looked guilty, and Holly realised.

“You’re referring to the fact you broke up with him,” she said. “And, to be honest…no, that wasn’t the best first impression. But you did save his life, and that counts for something.” She put the glass down on the counter and faced Rafael properly.

“Apparently you thought you were a better match for your ex?”

“…Yes. I know it sounds stupid, but at the time I thought I was doing what was best. I’m sorry,” he added. Holly smiled.

“Rafael, relax,” she said. “Matthew told me about what happened…and about how you ran into the room and knocked him away from an assassin. I just hope you’ll never have to know how it feels hear about how your only surviving child narrowly avoided death. And it's thanks to you.” A shadow crossed her face and for a second Raf thought she might cry, but she collected herself. “Look, I don’t presume to know the ins and outs of your relationships. But I’ve seen the look on Matthew’s face when he talks about you, and all things considered I can give you a second chance at a first impression.”

“Thank you,” Raf smiled, his relief taking even himself by surprise. “I won’t waste it.”

“I’m sure you won’t.” Holly picked up her glass and took a sip. “Let me know if you’re up for visiting Colorado sometime.”

As midnight approached, the children were roused from their naps and brought downstairs. They instantly picked up on the excitement in the house and were bouncing around, eager to start the celebrations. The older ones ran around in their pyjamas, not wanting to waste time getting dressed, babies and toddlers clung to their parents shyly.

Matthew stood between Holly and Rafael as the family piled into the dining room and Juliana said a short prayer of thanks. Her voice tightened as she reiterated her gratitude for her family’s health and the fact that they could all be there to celebrate Christmas together. The sentiment was shared by every single person in the room. Kisses were shared between couples, parents and children. Warm looks were cast to Rafael and Matthew. Holly lightly ran her hand over Matthew’s back, coming to rest at his shoulder, and Matthew slipped his own hand into Rafael’s.

The wave of emotion gently passed and gave way to the family digging into the food and spilling out to fill the chairs and couches set up in the kitchen and living room – there were too many people to eat round the table. Matthew helped himself to pieces of turkey and ham, chicken salad, rice (there was a version with and without raisins that people bickered over). He added a small spoonful of farofa, upon advice of Raf’s cousin who said it would complement the meat.

He sat with Rafael and some cousins in a corner of the living room, under a glowing Christmas tree decorated with silver baubles. The fire was roaring, and they dug into their food. Raf’s cousin Marco started mucking around, moving the figures of the Nativity scene until baby Jesus was outside the stable, and the wise men worshipped the donkey.

“Don’t laugh, it encourages him,” Marco’s sister Hannah groaned. “He’s always switching stuff around at home.”

“Salt and sugar?”

“Not yet,” Marco said, with a wicked grin. He settled back down in his armchair. “Matthew, what’s it like being a doctor?”

“Oh, er…”

“Is it hard? Do you cut people open?”

“It is hard, especially when I started. But no, I don’t cut people open, that’s surgeons.”

“So what do you do?”

“I diagnose patients. In a nutshell, they come in, I speak with them and ask them questions about the symptoms they’re experiencing. Then I can start working out what’s the most likely problem and start testing for it.”

“I could never work in a hospital,” Hannah said. “I can’t deal with puke.”

“You get used to that surprisingly quickly,” Matthew said calmly. “If you threw up right now, I could probably catch it.”

“Eeeeew!”

But they couldn’t help laughing, and started sharing some of their own hospital experiences. Raf went quiet, letting the conversation wash over him, and shooting Matthew a reassuring smile. Diversion arrived in the form of Holly and some aunts, who all had freshly topped up wine glasses.

It was nearing two in the morning and Matthew’s head was resting on Raf’s shoulder as they shared a piece of rich rabanada for dessert. The energy was starting to drop, food making everyone sleepy, until Pablo called that it was time for presents.

The Aveiro family did Secret Santa by household. Rafael was included with his parents this year and opened up vouchers and wine-tasting for three, to be used any time within the next twelve months.

“I can’t wait to put those to use. Wine-tasting will be fabulous when the weather’s nice,” Pablo said, wrapping his arm around Natalia.

They had bought a selection of board games for Raf’s cousin Bruna and her husband. Apparently they were both game nerds and had even met in a board game café. Bruna was pregnant, and Natalia had also put together a bonus gift of baby clothes, diapers, and a few sensory toys.

“Thanks Natalia, you’re amazing,” Bruna beamed.

Later, when the party was finally winding down, young children were back in bed and grown-ups were inflating mattresses. Rafael and Matthew slipped outside to sit on the back porch, wrapped in blankets and nursing mugs of hot chocolate. It was one of those cold, clear winter nights with a bright crescent moon and stars dotting the sky.

“How have you been tonight?” Raf asked. “I hope it didn’t get too overwhelming meeting everyone at once?”

“No, I’m having a great time. I’ve been curious about meeting the rest of your family. And my mom fit right in, I’ve barely seen her since we walked through the door.”

“I was so nervous about meeting her, I was afraid she wouldn’t like me.”

“What’s the verdict now?”

“I felt like she was assessing me when you came in, then she ran into me in the kitchen. She told me to relax, and that she’d given me a second chance.”

“I knew she would. Did you see her dancing with your aunt and uncle earlier?”

“Yes,” Raf said, and chuckled. “Remember the first time you came round here and I taught you to dance samba?”

“Always. Best first date I’ve ever had,” Matthew said, lightly teasing.

Raf took Matthew’s hand in his, his smiling growing a little more serious. “I’m really happy you’re here, Matthew. I wouldn’t trade this night with you for the world.”

“Me too.”

Matthew cuddled closer into Rafael’s side, closing his eyes to breathe in his scent. It was amazing how one person could feel like home. The last few weeks hadn’t been the easiest, but Rafael’s gentle presence made all the difference. Six months ago he had been facing an empty future, but now he was sitting here feeling like the luckiest man alive.

“Raf, I—”

“Hey!” The boys jumped a little as Holly opened the back door. “What are you two doing out here? Aren’t you cold?”

“No, we’re good,” Matthew said, indicating the blankets as Rafael held up his mug. “What about you? Are you drunk?”

“I’ve just had some wines.” Holly gave Matthew a friendly swat on the arm before going to sit beside Rafael. “Tonight was so much fun. It must have been nice to grow up with such a large family.”

“It was,” Raf said. “My family’s always ready to help each other, and my grandparents often babysat us as kids when our parents worked, so I grew up super-close with my cousins.”

“A supportive family means everything. That reminds me, I need to call my brother tomorrow…he’s probably asleep now.” She sighed wistfully. “We never had big holiday celebrations like this. And then they got even smaller…”

A pang went through Matthew’s chest.

“Mom…”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I promise,” Holly sniffled, wiping her eyes. “But I think it’s time to find my bed.”

She turned to Rafael and kissed him on the cheek.

“Matthew was right about you, you’re a lovely young man. I’m glad you have each other.”

She kissed Matthew goodnight and shuffled into the house, as Matthew laughed at Rafael’s stunned expression.

****

Matthew woke up around lunch time with Raf’s soft breath tickling the back of his neck, which would have been lovely if it weren’t for the fact they were sharing a room with three other couples who were now stumbling around trying to get dressed, and the kids were already running through the house. Even with the subdued atmosphere of the after-party, the house was full of life as the children played with their new toys and everyone nibbled on leftovers.

Once they made it back to Matthew’s apartment late-afternoon (carrying several tins of leftover food), they indulged in cocoa with marshmallows. Matthew’s apartment looked sparse in comparison to Juliana’s Christmassy house: he and his roommates had hung up a paperchain that had since fallen apart, but they had bought a small Christmas tree that now sat on the coffee table and was switched on to emit a gentle glow. Matthew was also particularly proud of the toilet roll tubes that he and Elijah had turned into Christmas trees with some green tissue paper and glue, which now sat on the windowsill.

A tradition that they had had forever was watching The Snowman, which they did now as they drank their cocoa, then Matthew got Spooky out of her cage to play as Holly baked an apple and cinnamon cake – another tradition. By the time his roommates had got home from their Christmas Day shift, the apartment was filled with mouthwatering smells.

“Holly, you didn’t have to do this!” Sienna said.

“Of course I did! You’ve all been working hard, it’s the least you deserve.”

The gang had – correctly – predicted they wouldn’t feel like cooking a full Christmas spread after work and so had improvised: cuts of turkey and ham from the supermarket, frozen fries and mixed vegetables. With Juliana's leftovers, it was all ready to eat in twenty-five minutes.

“Sorry it’s so basic…” Sienna started to say, but Holly cut her off.

“Honey, stop apologising. The important thing is that we’re having fun.”

Secret Santa wasn’t over yet, and the roommates took turns swapping over gifts as they gorged on cake. Elijah correctly guessed that Matthew had bought him some funky glow-in-the-dark Xbox controllers, and then Matthew unwrapped a mug that said ‘World’s Okay-est Junior Fellow’ that could have only come from Jackie. Refilling their glasses with a cry of ‘cheers!’, Matthew couldn’t help feeling good about the year to come.

****

January brought new challenges, and not just for Matthew. Ethan asked him to stay behind after a brainstorm a few days after new year.

“I actually hoped I could perhaps get a bit of…advice?” Ethan asked, awkwardly. “It’s…about my mother. Nobody else really knows what’s going on.”

“I’ll do my best,” Matthew nodded, sitting back down at the table. “What’s up?”

“Like I said, my mother was brought in two months ago after a heroin overdose. She had three days of detox here, like all patients. Since then, she’s been in a rehabilitation centre that my father has been paying for.”

“I take it you haven’t spoken to her?”

“No, at least, not beyond anything as a doctor. I only told my father because my conscience won out. He took it from there and found the rehab centre.”

“So…what’s the issue?”

“The issue is that the rehab centre is expensive and he thinks my mother isn’t happy there. She’s also been asking about me almost incessantly.” Ethan groaned. “I’ve said time and time again, I have no interest in reaching out to the woman who left her family without a second thought. It almost destroyed my father, and now I’m the one who should reach out lest I lose a relationship with him too?”

Matthew bit his lip. It was odd seeing Ethan like this, out of control and truly torn between his personal feelings and professional feelings.

“Um…what do you want from me?”

“I’m so sorry to put this on you but…I suppose I want to ask what you would do?”

Matthew suddenly felt the dull ache of disappointment as he thought of his father. When his sister was sick and dying, his parents would argue when they thought he was asleep: Robert would shout at Holly that she should have known Casey’s pains weren’t ordinary growing pains, she should have taken her to a doctor sooner, should have started the treatment earlier, completely bypassing the idea that he himself had done exactly the same that Holly had. It had made Matthew feel sick inside. Robert didn’t win back any favours during the aftermath, when he worked well into the night and Matthew was heating up a TV dinner by himself in Robert’s new apartment that had never felt like a new home. The final straw was when he came out as bisexual to him at age eighteen: ‘but you still like women more than guys, right!?’

Matthew tried to think about what it be like if Robert was suddenly rushed into hospital and frowned. It was easier to understand Ethan’s conflict. He picked up a pen and started twisting it around his finger.

“I suppose I wouldn’t want much to do with him beyond being his doctor either,” he said. “At least not without hearing a genuine apology from him.” That was all Matthew had wanted when he was younger, before he gave up. “As for my mom, I don’t know if I’d be able to tell her. I’d see what my conscience tells me too.”

“Hmm.” Ethan was quiet for a minute, then gave a dry smile. “I’ll bet you didn’t think we had bad parents in common.”

“Wasn’t my first thought,” Matthew said with a weak smile of his own. “Is there a way you can help your mom without necessarily having a relationship with her?”

Ethan sat back, thoughtfully. “I suppose if my father wants to find another rehab, I could cover the cost. For his sake, not for hers.” He reached into his coat pocket for his phone. “Thanks, Matthew, you can go. I’ll take it from here. Thank you for listening.”

Matthew made the rounds on his patients, then went to the ground floor nurses station to check if he had any new ones coming through when he was almost bowled over by someone running very fast.

“Sorry!” Bryce called, without looking back. It hadn’t even registered to him that it was Matthew as he called out for Dr Tanaka.

“What the hell has gotten into you, Lahela?!” Taneka snapped as he came out of the hallway that led to OR1. “I was about to page for a cover surgeon. Scrub in NOW.”

Bryce disappeared down the hallway as Matthew exchanged a look with Nurse Ronnie, but Ronnie was just as mystified as he was.

A clue came in the form of Keiki, rushing round the corner, a backpack sliding off her shoulders as she looked around frantically.

“Keiki? What’s going on?”

“I…I…” Keiki was out of breath. “Have you seen Bryce?”

“He just ran into surgery. Is everything OK?”

Keiki swallowed and blinked hard, and Matthew suggested they find somewhere to sit. Luckily the cafeteria was relatively quiet as they sat at a small table. He wasn’t sure what he’d have done if it was crowded. He just hoped Keiki wouldn’t ask why people still stared at him. The attack had left a deep mark.

“So, what happened?” he asked, once Keiki had shelled off her backpack and slumped back against a chair. “You guys haven’t had a falling out, have you?”

“No…I don’t think so.” Keiki started nibbling her thumbnail. “I got into a fight at school and was sent to the principal’s office, Bryce had to come and pick me up. And he was already kind of stressed because he had this major surgery today. I can’t remember the name of it, but he said he was basically going to saw someone in half.”

“Wait…a hemicorporectomy?” Matthew gasped. “That’s huge. There’s only ever been a handful of them performed worldwide.”

“Yeah, he said that too,” Keiki said, glumly. “He’s been super pumped, but then he had to come over to school and it almost made him late. I’d have killed myself if he’d missed it because of me.”

“Don’t ever say that,” Matthew winced. “It sounded like he made it into surgery, so don’t wallow in guilt. What was the fight about?”

“Some boy wanted to add me on Pictagram and I’m not on it, but he didn’t believe me. He searched my name and all these articles about my parents came up. He called me a jail baby, then told the entire class, so I broke his nose.”

“Ouch,” Matthew said. “I’m sorry you had to put up with that. Are you worried about how the class might treat you now?”

“Kinda,” Keiki nodded. “But it was really hard for Bryce to get me into school in the first place, especially without our parents. Now he might have to start the whole process again.”

“Let’s hope it won’t come to that. Did Bryce say anything on the way over here?”

“Just that we’d talk about it later. Actually, how long is this surgery meant to last?”

“Not sure. A complex procedure like that could be at least twelve hours. And that’s assuming there’s no kind of follow-up.”

Keiki’s lip trembled. Matthew slowly reached out to put his hand over hers, quietly encouraging her to speak.

“I don’t mean to be a burden or anything,” she sniffled. “I was so desperate to get away from Hawaii that I just flew out without thinking it through. Bryce promised he’d make it work, and he really is trying. He’s learning to cook, and I’ve seen his budget spreadsheets…then I pull crap like this and he almost misses surgery and I know I’m being selfish but I don’t want to stay in the hospital, but I really don’t want to be alone in the apartment all night…”

“Come here,” Matthew said, standing to give her a hug. She clung to him, sniffling into his chest. “You’re not being selfish. You’re fifteen, of course you don’t want to be alone all night. Does it happen often?”

“It’s happened a fair bit for about a month. Bryce said it comes and goes.”

Matthew released Keiki and they sat back down. She watched as he reached into his pocket for his wallet and phone.

“I think when you both have time, you and Bryce need to look at your system and see where you can make some readjustments.” He passed Keiki a twenty. “Make sure you have something to eat and drink, and let’s exchange numbers. I’ll try and check in with you when I can, otherwise I’ll call when my shift ends. If Bryce is still in surgery, you can at least stay at my apartment tonight.”

“Thanks Matthew,” Keiki grinned. “Thanks so much!”

****

That afternoon, Matthew hurried through a corridor and dashed down some stairs into the lobby. He checked his watch anxiously; he was just about on time.

“Matthew!”

Matthew smiled when Raf called his name. He was sat in one of the plastic chairs in a grey t-shirt and navy sweat pants, his coat held over his arm.

“Must be my lucky day,” Raf continued with a slightly teasing smile as he stood up.

“Not like you asked me to meet you here, or anything,” Matthew chuckled. “Ready to go?”

They walked side-by-side down to the training rooms where Rafael was about to have his first proper physical therapy session. Matthew glanced sideways at him as they walked, noting how he stood tall and returned the greetings of those walking past. He even started humming a tune under his breath.

“You seem pretty cheery,” Matthew noted. “Do you not find it weird being back?”

“Trust me, I do. I didn’t sleep much last night because I was thinking about what it would be like, and when I got here I had to psych myself up a bit to go in. But I worked here for around four and a half years. I have so many memories, good and bad, about this place. The attack was just one of the things that happened. When I thought about it like that, it was easier to walk in.” He glanced around. “Although…maybe it would be different if I had to go back into that room in particular.”

“That was what set me off too, at first,” Matthew said. He slipped his hand through Raf’s. “If you need to leave at any point, just say the word.”

“Thanks,” Raf smiled, squeezing his hand. “I think I’ll be OK.”

He knocked on the door of studio 3 and Matthew followed him in. A woman with a lot of curly hair, dressed in workout gear, looked up from where she was stretching.

“Hi, I’m Tara. You must be Rafael?”

“That’s me. And this is…”

“Dr Valentine, right? Are you on the medical case?”

“Actually I’m just here as Raf’s partner,” Matthew said, taking off his white coat. He’d changed into workout gear before meeting Rafael. “You can just call me Matthew.”

“OK, great,” Tara said, brightly. “So if you two grab a mat, we’ll get started.”

The two of them stood next to each other at the foot of two gym mats as Tara tapped on her phone until some ethereal music started playing from the speakers. Matthew suddenly felt like he should be in a forest by a stream.

“We’re concerned that the toxin might have affected your balance and coordination,” Tara said to Rafael as she stood in front of them both. “I thought we’d start with some yoga to warm up, then focus on some simple reflex work. Nice and easy to start with.”

“Sounds good.”

Tara led them through some poses – warrior, cobra, downward dog – then talked them through a sun salutation. She reiterated to Rafael to go at a pace he felt comfortable with, until the third and fourth rounds of sun salutation when he was told to up the pace. He did so, and despite being slightly out of breath, said he was good to carry on. As they both stood in tree pose, Matthew kept half an eye on Raf. He kept wobbling and several times he put his foot on the floor to steady himself. Tara kept saying “engage the core” which Matthew doubted was helpful – most of Rafael’s core had been destroyed by a maitotoxin – but he wasn’t here as a doctor so held his tongue.

“That was a good start,” Tara said. “How did you find that, Rafael?”

“It was OK,” Raf said. “Except I was surprised at how hard it was.”

“I know, it’s difficult starting again but it will get easier the more you do it.” Tara picked up a small red ball that was sat by the speaker. “Are you ready to move on to co-ordination?”

“Let’s do it.”

Matthew sat on a side bench to watch as Tara threw the ball to Raf. She hadn’t tossed too hard and it should have been an easy catch, but Raf’s aim was off and the ball just brushed his fingertips. He gritted his teeth as he scooped it up from the floor to toss it back…and it arched sideways, off by several feet.

“Damn it,” Raf said suddenly. “I’m so sorry…I was aiming for your hands…” He turned away as he went after the ball, rubbing his face. He still looked angry with himself when he took his hand away.

“We’ll just try again, maybe it’ll help if I come in at a slightly different angle…”

“Actually, Tara, can you give us a few minutes?” Matthew said, jumping up and walking over to her. Tara seemed hesitant. Matthew lowered his voice. “Please. Let me talk to him alone for a minute.”

Raf had taken Matthew’s place on the bench, where he sat with his head in his hands. Tara nodded.

“Alright, I could use a cup of coffee. I’ll be back soon.”

Once she was out the room, Matthew sat beside Raf, lightly resting a hand on his back. Raf didn’t move. Matthew wondered if he should be the one to break the silence.

“What if I don’t get better?”

Raf spoke so quietly Matthew almost didn’t hear. Raf lowered his hands and leaned against the wall, not looking at him.

“Everyone’s telling me I need to give it time, but what if that’s not enough? For so long I defined myself by what I could do, and I was always looking to do better…” His voice wobbled and he took a steadying breath. “When I woke up after the attack, I was told I might not be able to fully regain my physical abilities and honestly I’ve been trying to make peace with that. And now here I am and I can’t even catch a ball…”

He looked away, wiping his eye. Matthew hated that he couldn’t help. If he had the ability to put Rafael’s muscles back together, he would have done so there and then. He had to admit, he hadn’t thought much about the deeper effects of the toxin – he had been too caught up in being back together – and he berated himself for not realising it sooner.

“Nothing is certain when it comes to recovery. We both know that,” he said. “But I am certain that you’re the most resilient person I know. No matter what life throws at you, you get back up and keep going. This will be the same. I know you’ll get through this.”

Raf didn’t seem so sure as he looked at Matthew.

“What about you? You seem OK but…are you?”

Matthew considered and shrugged.

“I’m doing the best I can. I’m not quite ready to go into the patient room yet either, and I definitely don’t want to be alone when I do go in. And I still get nightmares sometimes.” Rafael reached for his hand and held it in both of his. “Largely, I just try and take it one day at a time. But Raf, I’ve never had the same athletic ability that you do, and I didn’t need physical therapy as part of my recovery. I wish I could give you the proper advice on all that stuff…”

“I know, it’s OK,” Raf said. “Just…this is wild, but my old boss reached out to me. She said they’re open to me coming back as a paramedic if I’m still up for it.”

“Wow. Seriously?”

“I know. Who’d have thought the way to get my job back was to do the thing I got suspended for.” He rolled his eyes.

“Are you worried you won’t be fit enough to go back?”

“That’s part of it, yeah. But there’s another part of me that doesn’t want to go back, even if I could. I was looking for change…and the one I got was bigger than I ever imagined, and I don’t know what’s scarier: going back to what I was before, or not being able to.”

Matthew’s shoulders relaxed a tiny bit that Raf wasn’t overly eager to return to his old job. He scooted closer and spoke cautiously.

“It sounds like you could get the best of both worlds. The paramedic position is an offer to fall back on, but you’re also free to try something new.”

Raf thought about it, then smiled. His shoulders had relaxed too, dropping back a fair bit.

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

“Takes one to know one.”

Rafael looked at Matthew for a few seconds, then suddenly wrapped him up in a big, tight hug.

“Thanks,” he murmured in his ear. Matthew felt warm, not just from Raf’s body heat. His cheeks were flushed when they pulled apart.

“Are you ready to get back to training?” He asked. “I can page Tara.”

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

Matthew stood, but before he could retrieve his pager from his coat, Rafael caught hold of his arm and pulled him down to give him a kiss.

“I’m really happy you’re back in my life, Matthew.”

“Me too.”

When Tara came back – large cup of coffee in hand – she restarted the reflex work. Raf missed the ball for a second time, caught it on the third, missed the fourth, caught again on the fifth, sixth and seventh. Tara had no problem moving him onto some aerobics, and then the three of them cooled down with meditative breathing.

“Thanks so much for coming with me,” Rafael said to Matthew as they left. “And for listening.”

“Anytime.” Matthew glanced in the direction of the cafeteria. “So, um, do you have to leave right now?”

“I said I’d text my dad when I was ready to be picked up. Why?”

“If you have time, I’d love to buy you a cup of coffee.”

It felt blessedly normal to walk into the cafeteria with Raf, except it was hard to ignore the many stares they got. Raf kept his eyes straight ahead and Matthew glared at people until they turned away. But sitting together over coffee and cupcakes was the kind of thing they had done before their worlds were turned upside down. Of course their extremely caring friends, family and colleagues was massively appreciated, but the slices of normality were pure heaven by comparison. Even if it came in the form of dishwater coffee and slightly dry pastries.

It put him in a good mood for the rest of the day. The spring in his step didn’t come often and he laughed and joked with patients until he heard June’s voice as he left a patient’s room.

“Hey, Matthew. I feel like we hardly talk now.”

“Oh yeah…” Matthew couldn’t shake off the memory of June reading his file. He had since second-guessed everything she said to him, wondering if it was true or her trying to win him over.

“Just a lot going on at the moment, I guess,” he shrugged.

“You seemed positive about how the therapy was going.”

“It’s helping.”

“Well, good,” she said, cheerfully. She walked alongside him for a while. “So, your intern actually won against Thorne.”

“It’s his own fault.”

“Of course it is, it’s been a long time coming. The problem is, weren’t we also trying to win over Mass Kenmore into sharing their research grant and merging with us?”

“What are you getting at?” Matthew asked suspiciously, realising June might have a little more information than some others.

“Thorne got suspended for six months. In the grand scheme of things, that’s nothing. People think he should have got more, it doesn’t put Edenbrook in the best light. A lot of Mass Kenmore doctors don’t want to work in a place that cares about doctors like Thorne, and a lot of other doctors don’t want that connection.”

Matthew stopped. “You’re not serious,” he said, weakly. June nodded.

“I’ve been asking around. An official decision is yet to be announced, but if I were you, I’d consider making contingency plans.”

She walked away, her hair falling over her shoulder and down her back. Matthew sighed, heavily, his good mood wilting.

****

Bryce was bent over a surgical table, beads of sweat on his brow, his mind completely focused on the body that lay on top of it. Tanaka’s voice telling him to seal the internal organs was far away. This wasn’t Bryce’s first amputation but it was the most drastic by far…

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, Dr Tanaka…”

Bryce tensed as he heard the sweep of the door and the voice of the nurse who had just walked in. The last time his surgery had been interrupted like this, his friends had just been poisoned.

“…A couple have just walked into the hospital and they’re demanding to see Dr Lahela, and they won’t leave until they do. It’s, um, causing some disturbance.”

The bad feeling in Bryce’s stomach shifted slightly; he thought he knew who this couple might be and they weren’t much better than poison. He glanced over at Dr Tanaka. Above the mask, his eyes were cautious.

“If you don’t mind, I’d better go and see what’s going on,” Bryce said, guardedly. “I’ll try and make it quick.”

“Very well. Dr Pierce, if you could take over…?”

Bryce shed his surgical cap and gown in the scrub room before following the nurse into the atrium where – just as he’d suspected – his very own parents were arguing with a security guard. Unlike Bobby, who had a soft side to the people he knew, Jones was ice-cold right down to the core, and yet Bryce’s father was right in his face, arms crossed, staring him in the eye. And he’d wondered where Bryce had got his stubbornness from.

After he’d left home, Bryce hadn’t imagined he’d never see his parents again, but he also hadn’t given any thought to what he’d do if he did. They looked the same as always – bespoke, designer clothing, a large, gold watch on his father’s wrist, the thick fur collar on his mother’s coat, both standing with the same haughty posture – and the wave of anger that washed through Bryce took him by surprise. They had wrecked his life, were on their way to wrecking Keiki’s life, and right when he was really on the cusp of making things better, they had burst in uninvited to destroy everything all over again. In the back of his mind, he wondered how he might be able to come back from this…there was a chance Edenbrook would lay him off for this connection.

But he wasn’t going to let that happen. Bryce took a deep breath, clenched his fists and stormed up to his parents.

“What the hell are you doing here?!”

Mr and Mrs Lahela turned away from the security guard to glare at him. They might have been looking down their noses, but Bryce hadn’t missed the split second of surprise in Mrs Lahela’s expression.

“I was told there was a disturbance and I was needed out here. Instead of a problem, I find you.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Mr Lahela snarled. He pointed an accusing finger at Bryce. “You were behind this whole thing, weren’t you? You’re nothing but trouble.”

“And what is it I’m supposed to have done?”

“Don’t play dumb. Where’s Keiki?”

Bryce folded his arms across his chest.

“How long did it take you to notice she had left?”

“How dare you?” Mrs Lahela shrieked. People were stopping to stare, Jones made sure no one hung around for too long. Bryce didn’t back down. Even after all this time, it was surprisingly easy to speak in the calm, cool manner that had pissed them off when he was a teenager. Survival instincts were buried deep.

“Did either of you actually speak to her before she left? Or did she try and speak to you, only to be bought off with a shiny new toy? Because apparently money solves everything and god knows you have plenty of it.”

“You don’t know anything, you little shit.” Mr Lahela took three steps forward and grabbed Bryce by the collar. It was his favourite intimidation tactic. Bryce tensed, but narrowed his eyes. “Tell us where our daughter is, or I’ll see to it that your life will be a living hell—”

“Dad.”

Keiki had come rushing forward, so quickly that Bryce hadn’t even seen which direction she came from. Mr Lahela was so surprised that he let go of Bryce, who instantly stepped in front of Keiki protectively. She slipped her hand through his, but when he glanced back at her, her jaw was set determinedly. He squeezed her hand in solidarity.

“Oh, Keiki, thank goodness…” Mrs Lahela seemed to be about to push Bryce aside to give Keiki a hug, but Keiki wasn’t having it.

“Go to hell, Mom!”

“Language!” Mrs Lahela chastised. Bryce rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, because that’s the worst thing about this situation. Tell me, did you ever ask Keiki about how she was doing, or are you completely unaware that she’s still being bullied as a consequence for what you did? Are you both so awful that you’re happy to continue making money off people, despite all the pain you caused…even to your own children?” Bryce’s eyes burned. His voice rose in his fury. It wasn’t fair. “I don’t care what you think of me. Starting over by myself was hard, but I was happy to do it. But you had a chance to do better for Keiki, and you blew it. Somehow, we’re the ones dealing with the fallout of your actions once again. You’ve come into my place of work, kicking and screaming and disturbing a hospital full of patients, and now I’ll have to fix that while you piss off back to your mansion in Hawaii like nothing happened. It’s OK, Keiki and I will take care of ourselves, we’re pretty used to that now. Don’t worry about us; you never did.”

Mr Lahela’s eyes bulged, and he went red in the face. It would have been comical if it weren’t so horrible.

“I…you…you are no longer my son!” he bellowed. Bryce didn’t flinch.

“I knew I never wanted a son,” Mrs Lahela shrugged. A lock of hair had come free from her bun and fallen across her forehead. She tucked it behind her ear. “Well, come on Keiki. If we hurry we can be on a plane back to Hawaii in an hour.”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon?” Mrs Lahela’s voice went dangerously soft.

“I’m not coming back,” Keiki said. She couldn’t stop her voice from trembling but she wouldn’t be silenced. “I told you about the kids at school and you never listened. You just kept brushing it aside and telling me not to draw attention to myself…but it didn’t work! School sucked and you did nothing to help! And then you were always out at work, and I was alone in that massive house, and then every time I tried to talk about that, you just said I should bring a friend over. I didn’t have any and it was because of you!”

People were giving their group a wide berth, but it didn’t stop them from looking over their shoulder. The rage burning inside Bryce was anciently familiar, but even worse now was Keiki’s upset. He pictured his sister as a child, sitting in the cavernous mansion, wondering why no one came for her. He could have punched Mr Lahela square in the face. It was only for Keiki’s sake that he didn’t.

“The fact is,” Keiki continued. “Bryce has been a much better parent than you guys have ever been in your life!”

“Keiki,” Mrs Lahela sighed. “I have never been more disappointed.”

“Agreed,” Mr Lahela said. “Well, Keiki, if that’s how you feel…don’t come back with us. In fact, don’t bother coming back to Hawaii at all.”

Keiki flinched, but refused to let any hurt show on her face. Bryce, meanwhile, felt something victorious inside him, and an empty sort of freedom. They could cut ties with their criminal parents for good, and everything that Keiki hadn’t had back then – a comfortable home, a caring brother – he could make sure she had it now. He wrapped his arm around her tightly; it would be them against the world from now on.

“That’s fine by us.”

Mr Lahela put his arm around his wife and the pair of them stormed towards the exit, talking loudly about all their wasted time. An awkward silence was left in their wake. Nurses and admin staff started busying themselves in an attempt to pretend the scene had never happened, but some idiot bystanders continued to gawp shamelessly. Keiki leaned heavily into Bryce. He started marching towards the outdoor smoking area, pulling her along, and resolutely ignoring everyone around him.

Almost as soon as they were outside, Keiki began to cry. She hid her face in her hands to muffle her sobs. Bryce slumped against the wall, banging his fist against it…but he didn’t have the energy to be mad anymore. He just wanted to forget about it all.

“What a day,” he groaned, sinking to the ground.

“I didn’t think they’d actually disown us like that,” Keiki sniffled. “I guess…I thought…they might…”

“They might do better and actually start behaving like your parents?”

“Well…yeah.” Keiki moved to sit beside Bryce, and he squeezed her shoulder. “What about you? How do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” Bryce sighed. “I think they were dead to me a long time ago, to be honest.”

The two of them lapsed into silence as the gravity of the situation started to dawn. Bryce had been completely independent since med school, but Keiki had lost her home and her family at just fifteen. It was time for Bryce to take some serious consideration into the future. It wasn’t just him anymore.

They jumped when the door clicked open behind them.

“Dr Lahela?”

It was Harper, her stern demeanour gone and replaced with genuine concern.

“Dr Emery, I’m so sorry that had to happen like that.”

“Don’t apologise for your parents, Bryce. You hardly invited them over here.” Harper took a tissue out of her pocket and offered it to Keiki, who took it with a thanks. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but do you feel up to completing your shift?”

“I think I could…I was on the hemicorporectomy…but I want to make sure my little sister gets home.”

Harper nodded.

“I’ll get a message back to Dr Tanaka.”

“Thank you so much, Harper.”

Harper smiled as she walked back inside. Bryce sighed heavily, then stood up and opened his arms wide. Keiki stood and hugged him tightly until she couldn’t breathe. They broke apart with a small smile.

“I’m sorry I made you late for surgery this morning,” Keiki said.

“I’d almost forgotten that,” Bryce said, with a weary chuckle. “But don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I kind of abandoned you in the car.”

“That’s OK. Matthew found me in the hospital and made sure I had something to eat.”

“Good old Matthew. I owe him one.”

Bryce took Keiki home before rushing back to the hospital to finish up the surgery. Given the complexity of the surgery, Tanaka had decided to pause it for tonight, and finish the rest tomorrow. He was understanding when Bryce explained the situation with his parents, he wasn’t even mad about Bryce being late on this occasion.

Word about the infamous Lahela’s spread fast around the hospital, though there was a general underlining that Bryce wasn’t to blame for it. He left the surgery to find people looking at him with sympathy rather than resentment, which was preferable…though not as preferable as his family life being a secret. On the plus side, Sienna had heard what happened and texted him and Keiki an invite for dinner, which they both accepted.

“Oh my gosh, what is that?” Keiki gasped, making a beeline for the chinchilla cage as soon as she walked through the door.

“Haven’t you ever seen a chinchilla before?” Elijah asked.

“Not in real life!”

Elijah opened the cage for Spooky to meet Keiki. Matthew turned to Bryce.

“How are you doing?”

“We’re OK. I’m more concerned with where to go from here, actually. If Keiki could drive, it might be better, but then she suggested she drop out of school and work. I don’t want her doing that.” He shook his head. “We’ll figure it out. We don’t need our parents.”

“Bryce…”

“OK everyone, food’s ready!” Sienna called, pulling a lasagne dish out of the oven. Matthew’s mouth watered at the rich smell and bubbling cheese and he helped Sienna plate up seven portions.

“Does anyone mind if I take the leftover piece to eat tomorrow?” he asked.

“Alright Garfield,” Jackie snorted. “Hey, Keiki, good on you for standing up to your parents. It’s not that easy.”

“Thanks,” Keiki said, as everyone settled on the couch to eat. “Have you had to do the same?”

Jackie made a face.

“I wasn’t in the same situation as you, but my parents are traditional Indians and that means, unfortunately for me, they wanted me to be married by now. Only I had no intention of doing so, and studied to be a doctor instead. Every single holiday we would have the same argument: it didn’t matter what I did, it wasn’t good enough if I wasn’t looking for a man.” She shuddered, then gave Keiki a sympathetic smile. “Don’t waste your energy on a lost cause.”

Aurora was sat next to Keiki and put a hand on her shoulder.

“I know how it feels to not want to be connected to your family name, but you’re not responsible for your parents decisions. It may seem impossible to make your own path, but it’s not.”

“You know you can come here if you need anything,” Sienna said brightly. “Consider us your extended family!”

Keiki’s smile was just as bright as she thanked them all. Bryce had gone quiet as he tried not to cry. He just gave Sienna a silent, grateful squeeze.

“Anyway,” Jackie said, loudly. “Crappy parents aside, I’ve got an announcement to make.”

“You’re engaged?” Elijah quipped, causing Jackie to toss a nearby pen at him. Aurora told him he deserved it.

“Panacea are having a conference in Vegas this weekend,” Jackie explained. “They’ve invited a couple of doctors, including me, so I’m going to go and dig up some dirt on them. Eventually I want to take them down.”

“Wait, what?”

“Take them down? How?”

“I don’t know. But one way or another, I’m gonna do it. So if I get into some kind of major trouble in Vegas and can’t come back…you’ll know why.”

She shrugged, like it was a big deal, as everyone else gaped at her.

“So…will you be needing a getaway driver?” Bryce asked casually. “I mean, I can’t let you have all the fun.”

“Really? You want to come?”

“Wait!” Keiki said, quickly. “If it’s a weekend thing, will I be alone again? I won’t be able to do anything in Vegas.”

Bryce cursed, but then his eyes lit up and he snapped his fingers.

“Kyra. She said she owes me after I did her gore-tex surgery. She’ll keep you company. She’s lovely, I promise.”

“I haven’t had the chance to see her since her surgery,” Matthew said. “Is she doing OK?”

“She’s fine, but she’s milking the ‘take it easy’ angle a tiny bit,” Bryce said. “A weekend hangout will be perfect for her, and Keiki won’t have to spend an entire weekend stuck in a hotel room.”

“You guys could stay in the apartment and look after Spooky,” Sienna said, and Jackie sat up.

“Look after Spooky as in…”

“As in we’re going too,” Sienna said. Aurora and Elijah were nodding behind her. Elijah had a look of distant anger in his eyes; he hated the American pharmaceutical system.

Jackie looked like she couldn’t believe her luck until she realised Matthew hadn’t said anything. She turned to him uncertainly.

“I want you to know that I one hundred percent support your cause,” Matthew said. “Just…the last time I got involved in a zany scheme, Raf and I almost died.”

The room quietened at that. Jackie patted Matthew’s hand.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” she said. “The fact that everyone is willing is more than enough.”

That night, Matthew lay in bed and found himself thinking. He thought of Mrs Martinez, who just wanted a life worth living. He thought of Willow and Rowan, the twins last year who could only get hepatitis treatment by being entered into a testing program after hospitals had refused them for their lack of insurance. He thought of how upset Jackie had been on the roof, and of every single patient who had ever second-guessed going to hospital because of the cost.

He hauled himself out of bed and across the hall to Jackie’s room where he knocked on her door until she answered. She stood in her underwear, glaring at him.

“What?!”

“I’m in.”

Tags: @sazanes @rafasgirl23415 @ceruleansnake0

[wedreamedlove]

Rubbing my hands in glee at how we get to see all the other men’s measurements, although they don’t all measure the same thing. For example, no chest measurement for Sariel but we have his butt measurement.

Translations under the read more!

SHOULDERS (45cm)

A slim fit double-breasted suit tailor-made according to body measurements, and which reveals a strong decisive atmosphere in a solemn work occasion.

FAIL MEASUREMENT = “Abusing your position for personal gain… Next time I won’t pretend I didn’t see that.” BAD MEASUREMENT = “Do it again, this isn’t the skill level you should have.” PERFECT MEASUREMENT = “Accurate measurements are the first step to tailoring clothes. You did very well.”

HANDS (16cm)

A watch that was meticulously carved by a famous craftsman and it is impossible to find a fault with any details on its face. It’s an expression of taste and bearing.

FAIL MEASUREMENT = “Nngh, that’s enough… Do you need to touch me for so long?” BAD MEASUREMENT = “A minor mistake may lead to serious consequences, re-measure it again.” PERFECT MEASUREMENT = “Not bad, you’re showing the skill a designer should have.”

BUTT (92cm)

Relatively low-key striped trousers that look natural paired with any suit while, at the same time, are a decoration that brightens people’s eyes.

FAIL MEASUREMENT = “Don’t mess around… Do the work in front of you properly, as for other things… we’ll talk about it later.” BAD MEASUREMENT = “Are you certain this is the precise measurement you’re looking for?” PERFECT MEASUREMENT = “Your actions can be considered clean and neat, the number is also more correct.”

NECK (36cm)

A silk tie with a fine cut and made out of exquisite material. There’s no need to take a careful look to become fascinated with the lustre of its surface.

FAIL MEASUREMENT = “Ahem… pay attention to our location.” BAD MEASUREMENT = “Instant success isn't obtainable, you can do it slowly next time.” PERFECT MEASUREMENT = “A skilled technique, it appears you've done quite a bit of homework.”

HEAD (55cm)

Simple glasses with flat lenses that are used as a tool to add an elegant temperament and, over time, have tacitly become a partner for group photos.

FAIL MEASUREMENT = “… I just knew you were up to no good, have you touched me enough now?” BAD MEASUREMENT = “Don’t be nervous, it’s not a serious problem if you do it again.” PERFECT MEASUREMENT = “I don’t normally wear glasses, but if you make a finished product then I suppose I can try them on.”

FEET (26cm)

Classic leather shoes that highly match the needs of a government employee and are suffused with the light of being brand-new at all times.

FAIL MEASUREMENT = “… Stop messing around, I’m not that ticklish.” BAD MEASUREMENT = “Making a product with this measurement, is this something you can accept?” PERFECT MEASUREMENT = “Do you only exert this much effort when it comes to designing?”

[chiyana]

On mobile so jumping back and forth to check the wording is a little tricky, but here are some of my initial thoughts.

1. Generative AI actively steals and scrapes works from other artists without their knowledge or consent. There are active court cases right now of generative AI companies arguing that they should be allowed to steal work from other people to train their models because they can't afford to pay all the people whose work they're stealing, and without that work their tools can't work. They are arguing they should be allowed to steal from creators in perpetuity because it's the only way their big fancy technology can function and, more importantly, make them money. Generative AI needs to steal from people to work. That's what generative AI is, full stop. There are SOME, very niche instances where generative AI is being used in good faith, but they come from people training the tools on THEIR OWN work, usually to make a specific task easier (ie training the tool to add a specific effect in animating rather than adding it by hand). Unless you have done the same, trained a completely blank tool using your own work, you are using stolen data. End of.

1.a. The point of NaNoWriMo is producing YOUR OWN WORK, not stealing work from others, ESPECIALLY since a lot of infrastructure around NaNoWriMo is about PUBLISHING your work when it's done. Generative AI is theft, full stop, it shouldn't be used at all, and especially not in this instance.

2. Lesser point, Generative AI is actually pretty shit at writing. It does not understand language, or grammar, or sentence structure, or story flow or narrative or voice or ANYTHING. It predicts what word should come next based on what's most likely to be true. If you say "write me a fantasy story", it is going to take all the data it's been given that's been classified as "fantasy", put it in a blender, and then pour you a smooth slurry of everything averaged out. This leads into the next point,

2.a. These things AI is supposed to "help" with:

"Classism, because not everyone can hire humans to go over their work and give them feedback." What "feedback" does AI give? As stated above, it's not a person, it doesn't actually understand language or narrative or story structure. It regularly makes up facts, historical events, basic information, COURT CASES, because it IS NOT A PERSON. It's effectively autofill with extra steps. It can MAYBE check your grammar, but so can plenty of other tools, ones that AREN'T generative AI and have been around for a while. So no, seriously, what "feedback" can AI give ANYONE? And considering how regularly and easily it fucks up, you would need to double-check all its work anyway.

"Ableism". Again, what do you think AI is doing to help with this? What is even being referenced here that AI is supposed to help with? If it's just "checking your work" and "seeing" the problems, see the above point! AI is not a person, it cannot "see" the problems with your work! The only thing I think a writer "should" do is write, with their own voice and thoughts. Yes, plenty of writers need accommodations and should get them, but I cannot think of a single accommodation that would be helpful that AI can provide. It simply does not do that.

The first link references things like "inspiration, writing prompts, and help with writer's block" as ways AI can be used "helpfully", but these aren't accommodations, and they still run into the problem that AI runs on stealing work from others. I'm sorry if you have writer's block or aren't inspired or don't know what to write, but you do not get to steal from other people's work to help with that.

"General Access Issues", which has the line "For example, underrepresented minorities are less likely to be offered traditional publishing contracts, which places some, by default, into the indie author space, which inequitably creates upfront cost burdens that authors who do not suffer from systemic discrimination may have to incur." [Side note, please proofread the last part of that sentence because what? If you used AI to write this I'd like to enter it as evidence in my "AI can't reliably write" argument.] AGAIN THOUGH: how does AI help with any of this?? The resource writing uses the most is time, and if you're using AI to save time with writing, realistically, you're having AI write stuff for you, WHICH IS THEFT, and AGAIN, it's not even likely to be GOOD theft. Unless you've trained it on a lot of your own work, it's going to have a notably different voice and style from what you're writing, which means you're going to have to edit the hell out of it to match your own work (at which point why not just write it yourself), OR have it stick out as obviously written by AI, in which case why would any self-respecting publisher accept your work? You clearly didn't write it, it's a liability for the publisher to publish it, and it's not likely to be good!

More to the point, you know who's work is statistically likely to be scraped and stolen to feed generative AI, without their knowledge and consent? People without the money or resources to go after big tech companies who steal their work for their fucking AI models! You know, those "underrepresented minorities" previously mentioned!

3. Regarding that bit about "SOME bad actors", it is well and truly past the point that we need to recognize that there are not SOME bad actors using generative AI unethically. The way generative AI functions, the way it's designed and implemented and marketed, is unethical. It is DELIBERATELY DESIGNED to cut creators out of creative work. It is specifically designed so you can plug in "make me a studio ghibli movie poster" and get a result that looks like artwork from Studio Ghibli without having to pay anyone who put in the time and effort to make that a recognizable style. The vast majority of people who use it understand that, and they specifically WANT IT to be like that. They WANT THAT.

The people likely to use generative AI or ChatGPT for NaNoWriMo are EXACTLY the ones likely to tell it to write an entire novel for them (and then try to publish it) even if you say that's cheating, even if you call them a bad actor. They don't care, because the tool is doing exactly what they want it to, exactly what it was designed to.

I am so, so disappointed in NaNoWriMo for taking this stance and doubling down on it, and even if or when they get enough backlash to retract it, I don't think I want to have anything to do with them after this.

for any writers seeing this, what are your opinions on NaNoWriMo's statements on AI use?

Statement on whether or not AI is allowed

Statement on NaNoWriMo's overall position

[sundaysundaes]

Started With A Kiss

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Actor AU, Smut, Fluff, Humor | NC-17 | 10K

Summary: Rookie actor, Lee Haechan, desperately wants to get the lead role in the highly anticipated upcoming TV drama. He’s sure he has what it takes to fill the part. Acting as a hero? No problem. Pretending to overcome his traumatic experience? Consider it done. A bed scene? Easy—wait, no. That might be a problem. But he should be fine as long as he gets to rehearse, right?

Warnings:  protected sex, oral sex, crude humor, swearing, literally 10k of sex with very little plot, a lot of playful banters between sassy!hyuck and equally sassy!Y/N

Wrote this for my love Kira @flopim​ who’s been having a tough time lately. I hope this will cheer you up bb! ❤️

“I want you to make love to me.”

Standing there, still dressed in your bright pink pajamas with your hair resembling a bird’s nest, you can only blink once, twice, and several times more because surely, your ears are playing tricks on you. There’s no way that your best friend, the cutely annoying and annoyingly cute, Lee Haechan—the one who’s been practically glued to your skin like a conjoined twin of yours for the last two years—is asking you to make love to him. 

Surely, this is not what you’d expected to see when you opened the door to your apartment, ready to bark at whoever it was who dared to disturb your beauty sleep (since it is seven in the morning on a Sunday), only to see him standing in his blue ripped jeans and black Michael Jackson shirt with his cheeks flushed, his bag hanging loosely on his shoulder, brown eyes desperately begging for your attention. 

And you’re most definitely sure that he’s not asking you to sleep with him when you still have drool on the corner of your mouth and a terrible morning breath (in your defense, you have brushed your teeth but that was, like, six hours ago).

But when seconds have passed and Haechan still looks like he badly needs to hear an answer, you have very little options but to ask, “You want me to do what to who now?”

Catching a sniff of your mighty dragon’s breath, he promptly takes a step back, scrunching his nose while frantically covering half of his face with the script he’s been holding. “Eew, God, what is that smell?” Ignoring your glare, he repeats his words, voice muffled by the papers. “I said, I want you to make love to me.”

“What—”

“Damn it, woman, just brush your teeth and let me in!”

When he’s stomping his feet while whining that loudly—loud enough for your fucking landlord to hear, along with everybody else in the building (including your cute neighbor, Jaehyun, oh dear God, no), he doesn’t give you any other choice but to invite him in, does he?

You step away from the door, flatly muttering, “Please, come in, why don’t you.” Haechan doesn’t waste any second waiting, making sure to run and stay as far away as possible from you so he won’t inhale the poisonous air that’s tainted with your breath again. 

You roll your eyes. Dramatic little shit. But just to be on the safe side, you make your way to the bathroom.

***

The scalding hot shower you just took was comforting but not enough to wash your entire drowsiness away. You’re in dire need of your caffeine intake. “Would you like some coffee, my king?” You ask between a yawn, hands finding their way to the coffee jar on your kitchen counter.

Haechan throws his bag to the floor, body sinking into the comfort of your couch. “With milk, please.”

"I’m kidding.”

“Well, I’m not.” He throws one of those cheeky grins that you adore—no, wait, you hate—as he settles his legs on your coffee table. “Less sugar but more milk. I’m still growing.”

“Growing what, your balls?” You pour him a cup of coffee as requested, yes, because to balance his demonic behavior, you have to act like the perfect angel that you are. “Since you don’t have any?”

“You mean, like your boyfriend?” Haechan retorts before he gasps dramatically, his palm going to his mouth. “Oh, I’m sorry, you don’t have a boyfriend.”

You hover above him from behind the couch, bringing two mugs filled with sizzling hot coffee. “Want to repeat that?” You tip your mug just a little bit until it nearly spills on his forehead.

Haechan winces, attempting to grin. “I’m sorry, I love you, please don’t ruin my face. It’s the only thing that’s good about me.”

“It surely is.”

“Yah, what does that mean?”

“Take it as a compliment.” 

Sitting next to him, you sip your coffee and curse silently when the liquid burns your tongue. “Okay, so what about this ‘make love to me’ thing you said earlier? Please tell me it’s just a figure of speech or something.”

“I wish.” He drags his legs away from the table so he can lay his cup down because apparently, he means business. “Okay, I know you’re gonna kill me after you hear—”

“After? I’m about to kill you now, actually.” You scoff. “Don’t you remember what we’ve agreed on? You cannot bother me when I’m still too sleepy to smack you in the head, Haechannie.”

“When did we ever—” He stops. “Why are you going to smack me in the head?” 

“‘Cause you’ll say something stupid.”

“Who says I’m gonna say something stupid?”

“You always say something stupid. You’re saying something stupid now!”

“It’s not stupid.” He sighs exasperatedly but when your flat, degrading stare comes into view, it morphs into a groan. “Well, not that stupid. I’ve thought about this—really thought about it—and I can’t find anyone else to do this but you since you’re the only girl I’m friends with. I mean, I can pick random girls, I suppose—you know how popular I am. They just can’t stop talking about me. My hair, my eyes—”

“—your tiny dick.”

“But I don’t want to break any girl’s heart by doing something that’s gonna make them feel like I’m just using them to get a job, you know? I know I’m hot but these good looks aren’t meant to trample people’s hearts.”

“And you don’t care how I’m gonna feel?”

He has the decency to act like he’s thinking about it, but then, “No, not really.”

“Thanks.”

“Look, I really need your help.” He takes it as further as holding your hand between his, puckering his pouty lips, and blinking his eyes in a way that’s cute enough to leave you in daze so you pretend like you’re about to vomit your insides to cover it up. 

Okay, so there’s one thing—one little thing that nobody knows—that you’re too ashamed to admit and that is the fact that you have a massive crush on this boy who sits in front of you with his socks unmatched. Well, no, not massive. It used to be massive during the first few weeks you knew him. How could you not? Haechan was so cute, you wanted to turn him into a doll so you could carry him around in your backpack and squish his cheeks whenever you feel like it. Sure, he’s not all jawlines and dimples like that neighbor of yours (Jung Jaehyun was probably sculpted by God himself ), but Haechan has his own charms. His devilish smirk, his loud, contagious laughter, his naughty eyebrow raise, and his lips—God, his beautiful plump lips, the way they look so pouty and soft. Honestly, you can write a whole essay about his attractive features (not that you haven’t already).

You knew you were crazy for him when the antics he did annoyed the hell out of his friends but to you, he was just plain adorable. And you realized you were pretty much fucked-up when Jeno said, “Fucking Lee Donghyuck said he forgot his wallet and robbed me this morning. Who the fuck orders a freakin’ wagyu steak for breakfast?!” and the only thing you could think of was how nice it was to go on a date with him and how your first kiss with him was going to be like (poor Jeno, though). 

It’s not that you love him or anything. It’s mostly physical, nothing more—at least for now anyway. It’s not your fault that he’s so fucking pretty that he ends up showing every now and then in your fantasy, doing indescribable naughty things that will definitely make Mark splash some holy water on your face if he knew what was going on in your head.

Fortunately, now that you’ve been friends with him for two years, that massive crush you had has turned into something normal, something you can easily hide. And can be forgotten even, whenever another cute guy—like Na Jaemin, for example—takes you out on a date or two. It’s easier to breathe these days.

“Hello? Are you there?” Haechan snaps his fingers, waking you up from your reverie. “What’s your answer? Do you want to make love to me or not?”

‘It’s easier to breathe these days?’ More like fucking kill me. 

“Can you stop saying that?” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You’re giving me headaches.” Or a heart attack, more accurately. “Assume I said yes. Don’t you think it’s gonna get a little weird between us?”

“What is so weird about it?” He throws his hands in the air, exhausted and impatient. “It’s just gonna be two friends, pretending to be in love with each other, hugging, kissing, touching, and having sweet, tender sex.” Realization falls upon him and you resist the urge to exhale loudly. “Yeah, okay, so it is a little weird, but it should be fine, right? It’s just acting. It’s not like you have any feelings for me, do you?”

If by feelings you mean picturing you naked in my head with your mouth sucking on my neck, then yeah, I do have feelings for you. Plenty of that. But on the outside, you say, “Eew, God, no.”

Haechan squints his eyes at your response. “Can’t say I’m not hurt with the way you said it, but eew, God, no to you too. Well, if that’s the case then I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he says, sipping his coffee, and retracts his mouth as soon as the flavor hits his tongue. “What the hell is this?! Did you spit on my coffee or something?”

You didn’t but for your amusement, you throw him a sly grin. “A little.” It’s satisfying to see him looking like he’s about to pass out. “I’m still worried how it’s gonna affect our friendship later on though.”

He simply shrugs. “Meh. We’re not really that close to begin with anyway.” He takes another sip of his coffee by accident and nearly vomits for real. “Fucking hell—take this shit out of my face.”

“I'm still not sure about this, Haechannie.”

“Look, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal to you, we’re just going to pretend! Acting!” He exclaims as if that was the most normal thing a friend could ask another friend. “And you’re gonna be acting out a love scene with someone as hot as me. Consider yourself lucky.”

“Consider yourself dead.”

“Damn it, my audition is in two days and I really want to get this role!” He’s whining, tugging at your hand like a baby as he practically throws himself at your feet, graveling for your mercy. “You’re the only one who can help me with this. How can I act properly if I don’t have enough experience to perform a freaking bed scene?!”

“I don’t think actors who have to play dead have enough experience of, you know, being dead.”

“Excellent point.” Haechan stares at you blankly, unimpressed. “Do you hear yourself when you talk?”

“Do you?”

A few seconds passed by in silence with the two of you exchanging sinister glares until he finally surrenders with a prominent pout on his face. “Fine, if you don’t want to.” Haechan exhales dramatically, his shoulders sagging and when you don’t respond, he sighs again only louder this time. “I guess, I have to force Mark to make out with me. Again.” He sneaks a glance to see your reaction. “And have my face slapped with a Bible. Again.”

You wince at the thought. “How did you force him, exactly?”

“Just…” He timidly scratches his nose. “Kinda attacked him in his sleep.”

You nod in understanding even when it’s the most idiotic thing you’ve ever heard. “Well, maybe he would’ve been fine with it if you had taken him out for a nice dinner before that.”

Haechan smiles a little at your words, and even a little glimpse of it is contagious enough to make your own spread wider on your face. Small chuckles resonate through the air and he playfully bumps his shoulder against yours, his palm resting on your knuckles.

“On a more serious note,” Haechan says, “I know that asking you to rehearse a bed scene with me is too much and way out of line. But I swear, I’m not gonna touch you if you’re so uncomfortable with it. Won’t even hold your hand, I promise.” Then he notices he’s still holding your hand from earlier. He drops it immediately, clearing his throat. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” It’s more than fine. His hand seems to fit yours in a way that nobody ever does but there’s no way you’re gonna tell him that. “So, we’re just gonna be practicing lines?”

“Exactly.” He rubs his nape, suddenly a bit bashful. “Well, I was hoping to at least kiss you—just to, you know, know how it’d feel like.”

“You’ve never kissed before?”

“I have, obviously.” He rolls his eyes, disgusted at your question. “I’m not a fucking virgin if that’s what you’re assuming.”

“Chill, don’t get your panties in a twist. Nah, I know you’re not a virgin from how many times you’ve had sex with yourself.”

“Hey!” 

“But then, why do you need to practice? Can’t you just go straight to your castmates, and kiss the bejeezus out of them?”

Donghyuck runs a hand through his face. “It’s… I’ve never done it for a role,” he professes, faint blush blooming on his cheeks, “And the scene is supposed to be intimate and I’ve never… You know…”

You gesture at him to clarify more with your hands. “You’ve never…?”

“You know…” The color on his face turns brighter. “T-the thing.”

“What thing? Never made-out in public? Never had sex outdoor?” You act clueless just because you’re liking his reaction. “Never had a finger stuck in your ass? What? Please do enlighten me.”

“I’ve never been in love, you witch!” Haechan is adorable when he’s fuming. Nostrils blaring, eyebrows knitting together in an angry frown, scarlet cheeks all puffed out. He looks like a terribly pissed Pomeranian.

Man, if I could just take a picture. “Oh, okay. So have you had your finger stuck in your ass?”

“I swear to God—”

“Kidding. I know you have.” But even when Haechan is nearly ripping your cheeks apart from your face, your giggles are never-ending. “So, you’re nervous?” You snort, raising an eyebrow. “You, the obnoxious, desperate-for-attention Lee Haechan, are nervous?”

“Will you help me out or not?!”

You pretend like you’re contemplating about it when truth is, every part of your body and mind is just screaming what the heck are you waiting for? He’s asking you to rehearse a bed scene—a. bed. scene! And he said he wanted to kiss you, for God’s sake! So, really, what else is there to say but “Okay.”

Haechan widens his eyes. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You try your best to appear nonchalant. “But you’ll owe me a favor. A huge one.”

“Anything,” he instantly agrees, “As long as I’m not dead, you have my words.”

You’re not yet sure what you’re planning to ask him but seeing his enthusiasm, you know it’s going to be good. “Great. So, umm, do you want to do it now or…?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“Here?”

“Wherever you want.”

“Man, you’re giving me too much power. I should’ve agreed to this way sooner.” You can practically feel your face splitting in half from how wide you’re grinning. “My room, then? I mean, a bed scene requires… a bed, right?”

Haechan laughs and even after two years, it still sounds like your most favorite thing in the world. “No, it doesn’t necessarily require a bed but sure.” He jumps out from the couch, taking you by the hand, and only by that, you can already feel your heart thumping a tad faster. But the second he walks into your room, he makes a face. “Why does it smell like something died in here?”

“Because something did die. Your dignity.”

The tickling fight doesn’t occur very often between you and Lee Haechan but once it starts, it means war.

***

“Okay, so…” Haechan hands you the script, already opened to show you a page filled with dialogues and short narratives. He scoots closer on the bed, his knee a few inches away from grazing yours as they dangle from the edge. “Just from the top of the page, here.” He points with his finger and you do a quick scan, trying to get a picture of the intimate scene you’re going to do. “So, a quick summary. Your character, Aeri, has been in love with my character, Donghyun. In the earlier scene, you’ve confessed your love to me but I rejected you because we’ve been friends for so long and I didn’t want to ruin what we have. But then, later on, some things happened and I ended up catching feelings for you and this is the part where I’m gonna be telling you how I really feel and then we start kissing and—”

“Then we have sex,” you utter in dismay, but butterflies are erupting from your stomach due to the anticipation.

“No,” Haechan corrects you, “We make love.”

“Is there any difference?”

“There are more feelings involved, not just out of sheer passion. It’s slower. Tender. Intimate.” And when he notices you raising a questioning brow at him, he sighs. “That thing you did with Jaemin? Fucking like bunnies? The opposite of that.”

You mock him by imitating his sigh exaggeratedly and receiving a flick on the nose in return. “Is it just me or is the script pretty lousy?”

He nods. “But they’ll pay you good money for this.”

“I thought the reason you became an actor was to create art not money.”

“When I’m rich, maybe. Right now, I gotta pay for my rent. And apparently, Jeno keeps chasing my ass, forcing me to pay him back. It was just a wagyu steak for fuck’s sake.” He grumbles to himself, momentarily distracted. “Anyway,” he cracks his neck, “I’ve memorized my lines. Wanna give it a go?”

“Okay, let’s try. I guess I’ll be fine if it’s just kissing. Even if it’s with you.” When in reality you’re only agreeing to this because it’s with him.

Haechan’s eyes gleam brighter, ears practically perking up like an excited puppy. “Really?”

“You’re that excited at the thought of kissing me?” You play smug but you could practically hear your heartbeat blasting through your ears. “What else have you been thinking about me?”

“I’m not excited at the thought of kissing you, dumbass,” he spits back, the spark in his eyes vanishes in an instant. “I’m excited that finally I can practice kissing scenes with someone who’s actually willing to do it, and not, you know, like with the back of my hand or something.”

“You…” Failing to hold back a grin, you burst out laughing. “You made out with your hand?”

It’s funny that even when his skin is golden as if it was kissed by the sun, it still shows vividly on his face whenever he blushes. “I didn’t mean it literally—”

“I can’t believe you made out with your hand.”

“Would you just—” He nearly suffocates you with your pillow but you quickly retaliate by kicking him in the stomach.

Tears are prickling at the corner of your eyes. “Man, that mental image of yours making out with your hand will live in my mind rent-free for as long as I live.” When you still can’t stop laughing, Haechan is practically baring his teeth. “Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s get this going. If it gets too uncomfortable for me, I’ll stop.”

“Of course.” 

“At any time I want.”

“Your call.” He nods in agreement with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him do; it almost doesn’t seem like him. 

“Good,” you say. “Now, I’ve never acted once in my life so if you laugh at me, I will sneak into your room at night and pour hot coffee on your computer.”

There’s fear fleeting through his eyes but he gives another nod. “Deal.”

“All right…” You take a deep breath, willing your heart to stop hammering against your ribcages, and for once, focus more on the script instead of the shape of his pretty, pretty mouth. “What are you doing here?” You follow the script, voice a little bit shaky as you’re still embarrassed with everything you’re doing. Haechan closes his eyes and you’re about to throw a joke to tease him about actor Haechan coming alive but when he opens them and gazes at you, you sit still, frozen.

“I wanted to see you,” he says, voice so delicate, it startles you. He’s so serious about this that you don’t find the strength within you to tease him like how you usually do. Somehow, the little gestures he makes, the changes in his expression alter the air along with the tension in the room. Suddenly, it feels like you’re standing next to him under the spotlight, hundreds of pairs of eyes following your every movement. 

“It’s—” You swallow your breath, tongue lays heavy in your mouth. “It's pouring outside, why are you—”

“I love you,” he vocalizes, his eyes gentle and heartbroken. His voice suddenly sounds a pitch lower, reverberating through the air until it sends goosebumps to the tiny hairs on your nape. He waits for your reply and you have to blink twice to slap yourself back to reality.

“W-what?”

“I’m sorry it took me this long to realize, but I do. I’m in love with you, hopelessly so.” He reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. Though he has pretty hands, his fingertips are not as soft as you had imagined them to be, but they feel better, feel real. His warmth is unfamiliar to your skin but it feels more pleasant than anything that ever touches you. “Maybe you’re unaware of this, but it kills me to know that I’ve hurt you because I simply couldn’t be brave enough to accept my feelings. The reason why I didn’t want us to be together was because I didn’t want to ruin what we have, not knowing that we could be something more.”

Haechan’s lines fit your situation so much that you wish he wasn’t acting. It’s amazing how he’s changing into an entirely different persona and yet, it feels so natural as if he has been that person all along. Your breathing gets heavier as you take a brief look at the script, searching for your lines. “This feels unreal…”

“Do you still love me?” Haechan lifts your face by the chin, his touch is paper-thin. 

You wet your lips, head swirling. “But Donghyun—”

“Do you still love me?” He repeats, emphasizing with his tone. His eyes are peering into yours and you wonder maybe the quote eyes deeper than the sea refers to his gaze. “Or is it too late for me?” His thumb drifts to your lip, caressing your bottom one, your lip balm sticking to his skin. 

“I do,” you reply. He’s so pretty. You’ve never taken a glance longer than a few seconds at his close-up face, but now that you’re in this close proximity, you can finally witness the two tiny moles on his cheek, the beautiful shape of his dark eyes, the delicate curve of his lips… “I do love you, Donghyuck.”

A few seconds of silence hangs in the air when Haechan stops, his eyebrows furrowing. “Umm—it’s Donghyun, actually.”

Fuck! “Right!” You nearly leap out of your bed, face aflame. “Donghyun! Of course! I don’t know why I said that. Donghyuck is your name, I know that—” Fuck, fuck, fuck, just fucking kill me. “Sorry, umm—nervous.”

Fortunately for you, Haechan buys your bluff. “Rookie mistake,” he chuckles and you exaggeratedly roll your eyes to play along. “Okay, let’s start over. Do you still love me?”

“I do,” you respond too rigidly, making him glance away so he won’t break into laughter. “I do love you, Donghyun. Dong-Hyun.”

“Good,” he improvises, as it’s not written in the script. He has a tiny smile on his face and you like to think that it’s just him doing a terrible job at hiding his amusement. But when he swats your bangs out of your eyes, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he seems like he’s seeing the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his whole life. The adoration in his eyes, his loving gaze—they are so vivid, they nearly consume you. “Because I don’t think I can resist this any longer…”

You’re lost in his eyes, lost in his touch, lost in his warmth. It’s until Haechan nudges his head slightly, indicating you to wake up, you’ve got a line to say, that you jolt, eyes hurriedly going down to the script, seeking your lines. “Umm—“ You flinch. You sound so jittery, it’s terrible. “R-resist what…?”

But Haechan doesn’t pay a mind that you just stuttered from saying two words. He doesn’t ask you to start over. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours, his breath mingling in the air and you can taste the scent of sandalwood and summer. Combined with his soft breathing, you’re almost stuck in a haze, just reeling in the feeling of how this man is now closer to you than he has ever been in the past two years and it’s better than anything you’ve ever imagined.

“Resist this,” he whispers and before you can look down to check whether you have more lines to say, Haechan dips his head, his lips brushing against yours, ever so faintly at first but when you gasp, he presses harder, framing your cheeks with both hands before he moves one down to your waist. Unlike his fingertips, his lips are soft—softer than silk or the cotton candy he once bought you. But it’s not the way they feel or the way he tastes that distract you the most. It’s the way he moves them, parting his lips slightly so he can blend with yours, your lower lip fits perfectly between his plump ones. It’s the way he sighs, so contentedly, as if kissing you was everything he ever wanted.

You close your eyes, hands reaching up to his collar, wanting to feel him more, wanting to touch him—

Haechan breaks away, placing both hands on your shoulders. “How was it?”

You’ve never had someone splash cold water on your face but you figure it might feel something like this. Your voice grows hoarse when you speak. “How was what?”

“The kiss!” Haechan’s eyes are filled with concern, analyzing your expression. “Was it romantic enough? Tender enough? Did it properly convey the desperation and longing my character feels for yours?”

You knew this was a bad idea. You fucking knew it. So, why are you still hurt when he acts like he feels exactly nothing by that kiss? This is just an acting lesson for him. You should have been prepared. 

“It’s good,” you answer, averting your gaze and hiding your eyes behind your bangs. Your heart is still running a thousand miles an hour but somehow, it doesn’t feel as pleasant as before. “So, next scene—”

“Wait, are you okay?” Haechan asks, bending slightly to catch a glimpse of your face. “Was it too much? Do you want to stop?”

Truth is, you’re conflicted. You’re going to catch feelings—you most likely already are. But Haechan only treats you as a friend and nothing more, and this is the only chance you have to be this close to him. The temptation of continuing the kiss, to just hold him close for one more time, stands stronger than anything else so you say, “No. I promised you I’d help.”

He’s still unsure, eyes glinting in concern. “It’s okay if you want to stop, I—”

“Let’s just do the damn scene, Donghyuck.”

Haechan freezes on his seat, eyes searching yours as you now have the bravery to look at his face. Knowing you came on too strong, you try to ease it off with a smile. “I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s just my first time doing this—acting, I mean. Can we try again?”

He spends another few seconds trying to decipher the true meaning behind your smile but eventually nods his head at your command. He drags his finger back to the script. “Then, umm… Let’s start from here?”

You don’t even look at the page when you give affirmation. “Go.”

Haechan takes a moment to prepare himself and when your eyes meet each other again, he’s a different person once more. “The reason why I didn’t want us to be together was because I didn’t want to ruin what we have, not knowing that we could be something more.” His voice is so soothing, you almost forget that deep down you’re immensely upset knowing that the kiss didn’t have the same effects on him.

This time, when he frames your face with his palm, you lean into his touch, eyes never leaving his. “This feels unreal,” you say and for a second—just for a split second—you notice Haechan breaking out of character, surprised by the gentle expression on your face. Because you’re not acting out his script, you’re acting out on your feelings. It’s your only chance to be honest with him without forcing him to respond. So you pour all these feelings you have for him out in the open—ones that started from a mere physical attraction to something more as his presence grew bigger in your life, you’re acting out each and every one of them. 

“Do…” He inhales sharply, trying to focus. “Do you still love me?” He’s doing the same thing as before, placing his thumb and index finger on your chin but before he can say his lines, you see how his eyes fall on your lips.

And you kiss him. You kiss him with everything you have, hands going to his face, fingers slipping between his strands, and Haechan gasps against your mouth, his fingers curling around your wrist. You know he’s about to push you away so you quickly murmur, “I do,” against his lips, breath stuttering, “I do love you.”

When you take his bottom lip between yours, teeth grazing against his supple skin, Haechan lets out an involuntary moan at the back of his throat. The butterflies in your stomach come alive, pumping a rush of adrenaline through your veins and suddenly, you’re brave enough to glide your tongue across his lip. His hold tightens around your wrist but instead of pushing you away, he tugs you closer and you fall into his chest, hands breaking free from his grip to wind around his neck. Your fingertips are scraping against his nape before they move upward to yank at the roots of his hair. “Fuck,” he breathes out, almost inaudibly, as if he didn’t mean to let the word slip from his mouth and it makes your heart jumps straight out of your chest. The second he responds properly, Haechan kisses like fire, all passion and urgency, and you really don’t mind being consumed by his flames.

His hands are on your waist, pulling you closer and closer until you’re almost sitting on his lap before he jolts awake, pushing you away so abruptly, you almost fall from the bed.

“I’m—We—” he stammers, looking everywhere but your eyes. His cheeks are flushed, his lips bruised and red from your kisses. “I think we should—I gotta go—“

He stands up from the bed like the sheets are catching on fire, picking his script from the floor and gathering all his belongings at once before he runs toward the door. He turns on his heels, wanting to say something to fix the goddamn situation, but when his eyes land on yours, his words vanish without a trace. 

“I—I’ll call you later,” he finally says and doesn’t wait for your response. The front door closes with a thud.

And then silence comes to answer.

What just happened? 

Your heart is thundering inside your chest, you’re starting to feel nauseous. What have I done? You keep asking over and over. You thought everything was going to be fine. He responded to your kiss earlier, didn’t he? You were sure you didn’t imagine the whole thing. But now he’s gone and you’re not sure whether he’s gonna come back as the same Haechan—the old, bratty but caring Lee Haechan. The one who snickers loudly when you fall face-first on the ground but always steals secret glances at you to make sure you're not hurt. The one who makes jokes about your love life but never forgets to show up at your apartment with a thoughtful gift right at the minute you turn a year older. 

Things are not just gonna get awkward, they’re ruined.

When nearly half an hour has passed by and you’re still left alone in your apartment with no signs of him coming back, you’re about to go insane. You can’t stay still, walking back and forth your living room with the tip of your thumb between your teeth.

Should I chase after him and explain that it was just me trying to improvise? You hesitate with your hand lingering on the doorknob. But with your knees nearly giving up under your weight, you decide to stay put. It will probably just gonna make it worse. He’ll see through my lies, he always does.

You’re straying away to the kitchen, hands placed on the counter. You can feel your head spinning, stomach somersaulting. Damn it, why did I have to do that?! Why couldn’t I just— 

The front door slams opened and Haechan barges in with his hair messy, ruffled by the wind, and his bangs sticking to his temple. Stunned, you stand still on your ground. Your heart is the only one that’s moving beyond control. His eyes scan your apartment until they land on yours and for an instant, everything seems to fade away.

“Fuck it,” he says, dropping his bag to the ground and making his way towards you in such a hurry, he nearly trips over his feet. “You’re not that good of an actor to be faking it.” Before you have the chance to even take a breath, Haechan’s lips are smashing against yours. 

“Hae—” Haechan’s kiss is insane. So forceful that you can barely keep up, taking every bit of air directly from your lungs. He has you backed against the kitchen counter, the marbled edge digging into your skin. His hands frame your face, sliding against your cheek until they cup the backsides of your neck, his thumbs resting against your ears. You curl your fingers around his wrist, gasping, “Wait—”

He pulls away, lifting your face so you can’t bring your gaze anywhere else. “You like me?” His eyes are just as intense, begging for answers. “Please tell me I’m not imagining this.”

But behind that passion, his confidence is wavering. You can tell by his quivering breath, the little tremble running through his fingertips, and at that, you’re drowning in relief. You don’t think he’s that good of an actor to be faking this too. 

“I do,” you admit, heart pounding so loudly that you can barely hear your own voice. “I like—”

His mouth is on yours again and it feels like he’s kissing you in a hundred different places at once. “Jesus Christ, why have you kept quiet about this for so long?” he says, tasting your breath and skin at the same time. “Two fucking years. We wasted two fucking years.”

The words this isn’t happening endlessly run through your head but all your senses scream that Haechan is really here, in your arms, his nails clawing against your shirt and there’s nothing left you want from this world.

When you reciprocate to him properly, your palms sliding up his chest, over his shoulder, until your arms circle his neck, Haechan sighs in content. His kisses grow slower—more relaxed—but deeper, his tongue peeking out shyly at first but not for long. He still tastes faintly like the coffee you made and something else entirely different. Something pleasant that’s just exactly how you’ve fantasized him to be, if not more.

He pulls away to catch his breath with his eyes still focusing on your lips, thumb rubbing your lower one. “Does this feel weird to you?” He whispers, his temple pressing against yours.

You’re intoxicated by his sweet scent though you’re not sure whether it’s the smell of his shampoo, his cologne, or just him altogether. “No,” and as soon as the word comes out, his lips are chasing after yours once more.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t think I can stop.” He’s breathing heavily against your mouth as you are against his. With his fingers twisted in your hair, making a messy ponytail out of it, Haechan peppers open-mouthed kisses on your neck, tongue pressing against your pulsating vein and a whimper escapes your mouth.

Your dreams, your fantasies—they all fall pale in comparison to reality. When you vocalize his name, it almost sounds like a plead and Haechan slants his mouth back on yours again, giving you another taste as he is not satisfied with yours just yet. “Your lips taste amazing,” he breathes out and it’s so quiet, it seems like he’s intending to say the words in his head and not with his mouth. But as his words fall on your ears, they send tingles down your spine.

“So do yours,” you reply, attempting to make him blush in return but if he does, he doesn’t show much. “Never pegged you as a man who wears lip balm.”

You can feel his smirk directly with your skin. “I’m not wearing any.”

“You’re not?” You lightly giggle, swiping your tongue across his lower lip. “Then your lips do taste amazing.”

Haechan’s hand is slipping underneath your shirt, fingers hovering above your bra. “Guess there are still a lot of things you don’t know about me, huh?”

“I’ve got a hunch you’re about to teach me?”

“Only if you’re eager to learn.”

The kiss becomes heavier that you’re lost for words, entirely consumed by his passion, until he breaks away, muttering, “Off, off, off, off, off,” as he struggles to tear the fabric away from your body. You titter at his desperation, raising both hands to help him out of his misery. The second it’s off, he lifts you by the waist and places you down on the counter. 

“I’m amazed you could lift me,” you coo, admiring the sight of his lean stomach as he pulls his shirt over his head. His silver necklace hangs loosely around his neck and you hook a finger around it to yank him back to you.

He doesn’t seem to be able to detach his lips from yours for too long, especially when you keep sneaking glances at his. So when he speaks again, his every word is painted directly to your skin. “It wasn’t easy.” He settles between your thighs, mouth latching against your collarbone. “You weigh a ton.”

“Yeah?” You bite your lip, holding back a moan as he sucks bruises on your neck, the edge of his fingers trailing over the seam of your bra. “Then you must be so strong.”

“I am, haven’t you noticed?” Haechan pulls away just to showcase a mischievous grin. “I work out, you know.”

You blurt out laughing. It’s not solely because of the mental image of Lee Haechan—a full-time gamer, Lee Haechan—doing push-ups seems so funny to you. It’s more about the way he wiggles his eyebrow, trying to be sexy about it when you know he’s the weakest one in your group. Flustered at your reaction, he flicks your nose. “What is so funny?”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize though it doesn’t seem that much sincere with the way you’re still giggling at him. “It’s just that an hour ago we were two friends making fun of each other and now we’re here, in this position. I don’t know, it just feels surreal to me.”

An adorable pout blooms on his face. “I thought you said this didn’t feel weird.”

“No, it’s perfect. I want this.” You wrap the end of his necklace twice around your index finger. “I want you. It’s just… I’ve been imagining this to happen for such a long time and now that it’s happening, I’m feeling a lot of things at once.” You place a reassuring kiss on his temple. “I’m nervous.” This time landing one on his cheek. “I’m relieved.” When your lips hover above his, you notice him parting his own slightly in anticipation. “And it feels so good, I don’t ever want to stop. Even if that means we can’t go back to being friends.”

Haechan can’t form a response as you don’t let him, your mouth swallowing the tiny moans he emits. “We’ll talk about that later,” he hastily replies, “I still haven’t had enough of you yet.”

Without warning, he lifts you off the counter, making you yelp and wrap your legs around his waist for support. “Haechannie!” With you holding onto him, he takes a step forward, ignoring your call. “Where are you taking me—"

“Wait, no, back pain, back pain.” Both of you nearly tumble down to the ground from how he’s harshly placing you back to your feet, wincing at the ache erupting from the strained muscles in his spine. He’s groaning in pain, massaging his back with both hands. “Fuck, you’re really heavy!”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady.” You throw your slipper at him, missing his head just a few inches, laughing all the way. “What exactly were you trying to do?”

“I was trying to move us to the couch.”

“All you had to do was ask.”

“I was trying to be sexy.” He juts out his lower lip, and it takes all control of your body to not squeeze his cheeks from how adorable he looks.

“Honey, you are sexy, believe me, but you’re also weak as fuck. Consider hitting the gym for real next time and then carry me.”

“Shut up,” he sighs, holding out a hand for you to take. “To the couch, please? And maybe a massage after this ‘cause my back is killing me.”

Shaking your head in amusement, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his and drag him over to the couch. He’s in the middle of asking, “Do you want me to be on top or—” when you push him down and straddle his lap without warning, legs tangling around his hips. “Oh, okay.”

You run a hand through his hair, pushing them back so you can witness the glow in his eyes. “You look sexier with your hair pushed back.” You love the way he stares at you, eyes half-lidded painted with lust and desire. And combined with your commentary, he now has his cheek tinted with red. “Do you have a problem with me being on top?”

His eyes quickly run down to the place where your denim shorts are riding up your thighs, your zipper pressing against his groin. With a noticeable gulp, he stutters out, “N-no.”

You smile, patting his cheek. “Good.”

The kiss starts slow as you focus more on moving your hands down his body. Haechan shivers a little when your palm is pressing against his bare chest, sliding down to his navel. When you pull back, raising a questioning brow at his reaction, he bashfully says, “Your hand’s cold,” looking like a nervous little boy who’s a stark contrast to how he usually behaves.

He’s so cute.

“Well, I know a way to warm you up.” You smirk, almost cringing when you hear your own words but Haechan seems to like it.

“Oooh,” he coos, grinning against your lips. “Are you offering what I think you’re offering?”

“I don’t know.” You kiss your way down from his jawline to his chest, pushing yourself off his lap so you can kneel on the floor, your fingers unbuckling his belt. “What do you think I’m offering?”

Haechan’s eyes are glowing with anticipation. He curves his fingers around the edge of his seat, wetting his lip nervously when you pull his zipper down. You release him from his boxer, stroking him to life and he sinks his nails further into the couch. A train of expletives breaks free from his mouth but he’s so quiet, you can only hear his ragged breathing.

But by the time you run your thumb over his slit, your hot breath hitting his sensitive skin, Haechan melts into a whimpering mess. “Please don’t tease,” he begs.

“I haven’t even started, Haechannie.” And he looks like he’s about to say something but it only turns into a mewl when you press a kiss to his tip. “You’re so cute,” you comment, and he shivers when the vibration of your voice meets his skin. 

Haechan tries to act composed. “Of course I’m cute, it’s—” 

You cut his line short by darting out your tongue, giving kitten licks at the side, smiling satisfyingly when his eyes meet yours. As you give him a little suck around his tip, he throws his head back, his lower lip between his teeth. “I—I said don’t tease.”

“I’m not teasing you.” But you are. How can you not? He looks so fucking cute. You’ve never really enjoyed giving head before, especially when your opponent gets rough and ends up pushing too deep until you gag. But with Haechan, you feel like you can do this for hours. He’s so nervous and shy, doesn’t even dare to place his hand on your hair, and his reaction to every bit of your action is honest even when his words aren’t. 

“Here.” You take one of his hands, moving it to your head. “You can use me as much as you want.”

“Use—” he crumbles at your choice of words. When you suddenly envelop him with your mouth, moving from the tip to the base in one quick motion, Haechan instinctively grabs a handful of your hair, flinching. “Goddamn, why are you so fucking hot?”

You giggle, sliding his cock out of your mouth with an obscene pop. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean your mouth. It’s so fucking warm.”

“So, you’re saying,” you dip your tongue into his slit, eyes seductively peering into his. “I’m not hot?”

“You’re—Fuck, fuck—” Haechan seethes, hips buckling when you bob your head down again, tongue pressing against his veins. Shivers run through his fingertips when he slips them between your locks, pushing your fringe back to have a good look at your face. You catch a glimpse of him, his lips unconsciously moving to form words that you can’t hear. So pretty, he seems to say, and the thought of it makes your stomach lurch in delight. Taking him completely in your mouth, you hollow your cheeks, swallowing around him. He tightens his hold around your hair, cheeks flushed and you expect him to hold you in place so he can thrust against your mouth but what he does is pull you away. “Stop, stop, stop, stop.”

Wiping a string of saliva away with the back of your hand, you ask with a frown. “Something’s wrong?”

Haechan hides his reddening face behind his fingers, quietly answering, “I was about to come.”

You hold back a grin. With a nonchalant hum, you dip your head down again, this time engulfing him until he hits the back of your throat.

“Jesus Christ.” His sanity is deteriorating, he can feel it.

“Don’t bring Lord’s name when I have your dick in my mouth, Haechannie. Mark would kill you if he knew.”

“Fuck Mark. Come here.” He rushes forward, forcibly pulling you up with both hands clamping your arms. When you follow his order, settling back down on top of his lap, he confesses with his lips grazing against the shell of your ear. “I really won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

Despite your previous teasing and confidence, you squirm inside his arms, feeling warmth spreading from your chest to your cheek. “So I have these effects on you?”

He’s almost growling when he retorts, “You don’t even know.” Haechan pushes your bra strap until it falls off your shoulder, teeth marking your supple skin until you hiss in both pain and pleasure. He presses a softer kiss to soothe away the bruise. “Sorry, I… You’re gonna need to cover it up tomorrow.”

“It’s fine.” You stroke his cheek, tracing the tiny mole on his jawline. “Seems like you have a biting kink.”

He sheepishly chuckles, “I don’t know. But if you let me, I’d love to do that again.” 

Something about him saying it in the most sincere way possible, almost too formal even, makes you crave more for him and everything he does. “You’re allowed to do whatever you want with me, Lee Donghyuck.”

Haechan swallows hard, barely has the bravery to look at you in the face after hearing your words and his real name tumbling out of your mouth. His fingers are now on the hem of your shorts, trembling a little bit. “Umm—may I?”

Helping him further, you stand on your knees, unclasping your bra first to his surprise and pulling your denim shorts and panties down to your thighs. Haechan watches with his eyes wide open, mouth parted in awe as he commits every bit of your curve and movement into memory. It feels so thrilling to be this wanted, to be ravished by his eyes, until you begin to struggle to push your clothing away from your legs.

“Need some help?” He asks, lips pursing as he tries to hide a grin. 

You exhale loudly, detaching yourself from him. “Let me just—” You jump off his lap, standing back with your feet on the ground, and kicking the clothing away with annoyance—why in the world did you have to wear shorts this tight—and slap him in the chest when he’s chuckling at the sight. 

“Maybe you should stop trying to be sexy too,” Haechan snickers.

“Shut up.” You crawl back into his lap. “Go back to staring dumbly at me like before. I’m naked.”

“I wasn’t staring like tha—oh,” he inhales sharply as you grind your heat against his cock, amazed at how warm you are despite your cold palms. The sensation of skin meeting skin feels much more different. There’s really no going back this time. Somehow, it feels dangerous, as if you’re doing something forbidden and it makes your skin crawl with excitement.

And by the look on his face, seems like he feels the same way.

“Lost for words?” You taunt him with a smirk, hands on his chest. “That’s new.” His glare is menacing but it falters away the second you rub your arousal against his. 

His head falls to his shoulder, eyes tightly shut. “God, baby…”

There it is again. The funny feeling in your stomach. “Baby?” You simper though your heart is palpitating like crazy. “We’re moving on to giving each other pet names now?”

If he can blush any harder than this, he probably might but with the way you’re grinding shamelessly on his cock, letting him get a glimpse of how wet and warm you are, he’s all maxed-out. 

His earlobe lays between your teeth when you whisper, “Shall we put it in?”

Haechan’s nails are sinking into the skin of your hips, both to hold you in place so you’ll stop torturing him and to press you down harder on his crotch. “I…” He’s so distracted, he can’t even think. The way the side of his length is pressing against your folds is pushing every little bit of self-control he has to the back of his head.

“Haechannie?” You giggle, moving your hips. “I kinda asked you a question here.”

“Yes, fuck, yes, please.” Haechan tries his very best to not sound that desperate for your touch but he is that desperate. “Wait—aren’t we—shouldn’t I wear a condom first?”

You blink, halting your movement. “You brought a condom with you?”

He nods as he leans forward, fingers searching frantically at the pocket of his jeans that hang low on his knees. “Here.”

“Why do you have a condom with you?”

“‘Cause I bought it downstairs just now.”

Your jaw grows slack at the realization. “Is that the reason why your hair was so messy and you were sweating when you barged in here? ‘Cause you ran downstairs, trying to find a condom?”

“I’m sorry, are you really complaining about this now?”

At the feeling of his member twitching underneath you, you sigh. “You’re right. Let’s discuss that later.”

It feels a bit awkward when you stand on your knees, giving him some space and wait until he finishes wrapping the rubber around himself. The silence that hangs between you is almost deafening that by the time he’s done and you fall back to his lap, sitting on his thighs, it feels like you have to start over again.

You diffidently smile. “Hey.”

Haechan is equally as embarrassed, mirroring your gesture. “Hi.”

“I guess we’re gonna have sex.”

“Guess so.”

Another few seconds pass by where you can only meet each other’s eyes, feeling your heartbeat racing louder and louder. It feels like you’re about to burst, honestly, but fortunately for you, Haechan leans in, his fingers tentatively caressing your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” He questions.

You melt under his gaze, his gentle touch, his honey-like voice. “Yes, please.”

Your lips start the connection and the rest of your body follows, fitting every curve of his perfectly like you were made for him. The way Haechan sighs against your mouth sends sparks of electricity all the way down to your toes and you don’t waste any more time. With his mouth latching on your breast, tongue flicking against your nipple, you lower yourself on him.

Haechan’s hold your waist tighter, eyebrows adjoined in the middle at the sensation, his moans muffled. He presses his spine back against the couch, admiring the sight of his member disappearing inch by inch into you. His eyes begin to droop when he’s completely sheathed inside, his bruised lips parted. He cups your cheek, kissing you softly on the corner of your mouth, making you shiver at the sudden tenderness. “I guess we are having sex,” he murmurs with a bashful smile.

You can’t help but laugh a little. “I guess so.” 

It starts slow, with you placing both hands on his chest and him swallowing his breath at the sight of you moving up and down his length. You hiss slightly at the friction, adjusting to his size. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks, tucking a few loose strands behind your ear. 

“A little.” You reassure him with a grin. “Relax, you’re not gonna break me.”

You expect him to send back a snarky remark but what he does is press his forehead against yours. “You’re so warm,” he whispers, tasting the skin that connects your shoulder to your neck. Something about his words, his sensual kiss and his tender touch makes you squeeze your walls around him and he clutches harder around you. He glides his hands lower to your hips, silently urging you to pick up the pace and you follow.

Breathing heavily, Haechan has his thumb grazing your lower lip. “You have such a pretty mouth,” he professes as if he was in a trance.

You seductively bite his thumb, still working your hips. “You’re saying that ‘cause I just sucked your dick.”

“Yes, that too, but really.” It’s as if he’s staring at a work of art, eyes twinkling with admiration. Sometimes, when you’re hitting the right spot and quiver around him, a small moan escapes his lips and you feel him twitching inside you. “It’s—ah—It probably doesn’t sound sincere when I’m saying this now, but I’ve always thought you had a pretty mouth. And lips. I’ve thought about your lips a lot.”

“Yeah?” You mouth against the sensitive skin below his ear, sinking harder on his length. “What else do you like about me?”

“Y-your voice—” You can actually feel him shivering. “You have such a—fuck—I just—I really love your moans.” 

You’re not sure whether he’s saying that because he’s so distracted with the way you’re breathing in his ear or he genuinely loves it. Either way, it’s a pleasure to know how much you’re affecting him with your actions. With a chuckle, you say, “You’re rambling, baby.”

“And your hair,” he adds, probably losing every bit of his self-control by this point. “I love your hair. Looks so soft.” Haechan cards his fingers through your strands. “Feels so soft.”

You hum in response, hoping that your flushed face doesn’t look as apparent as you think. “Anything else?”

“Your—” He shudders when you paint a mark under his collarbone. “Your ass.”

You stop, pulling away to give him a look and he whines at the loss. “My ass?”

“What—” The tips of his ears are turning red, steam practically coming out of them. “Why are you staring at me like that—you have a great ass!”

Teasing him is such a joy to you. “Then, let’s do it this way.” You part away from him, landing back on the carpeted floor so you can turn around, giving him the chance to ogle at your behind, before you ease yourself down onto his lap once more. 

“Fuck—” Haechan’s hisses, his hands going down to your hips again. The new position doesn’t allow you to meet his eyes but with the way he’s whimpering behind you, fingers trailing over the curve of your ass, the sensation increases.

“You okay back there?” You taunt smugly, chuckling a bit because Haechan sounds like he’s losing it. His nails are sinking into your skin and you just know that’s gonna leave a nasty bruise tomorrow. “You seem like you’re enjoying this way too—“ You’re interrupted by your own moans when he suddenly has one hand massaging your breast and another one sliding down your stomach to find your clit. “W-wait, Haechannie—”

“You’re such a tease,” he breathily whispers into your ear, his chest pressing against your spine as he leans forward, pulling you into his embrace. “Isn’t that supposed to be my job?”

His fingers are rubbing you in circles, making your thighs tremble. “You’re right.” You move your hips harder, going out of rhythm with how fast you’re going and Haechan sinks his teeth to your shoulder again.

At the sound of his name departing your lips in the most sinful moan he’s ever heard, Haechan curses. “Shit, you’re not gonna let me enjoy this longer, are you?”

“There’s always a second round, Haechannie.” You smirk, raising your hips all the way up in intention to slam it back down again but Haechan catches you and pushes you forward until you land on the coffee table, stomach pressing flat against the wooden surface. “What—"

“There’s always a second round, right?” His lips are brushing against your ear as he positions himself behind you. “Then I’m going all out.”

When he slams his hips in one swift motion, hard and deep, he knocks all the air out of your lungs. “Wait—” You choke out, can barely keep up with his pace. “Oh God—”

“Now, now,” he coos, his hand finding its way to your throat, fingers pressing against your veins. He raises your face, his chest completing the dip of your spine. “Don’t bring God’s name when I’m fucking you like this, baby.”

You can’t even find the strength to retort, eyes shutting tightly until you see stars behind your eyelids. It almost feels unreal how fast he can go from being awkward and tentative about all of this to raw and wild within a few minutes but Haechan has always been fast adapting to new situations and you have been teasing him way too much. It’s about time that he snaps. 

Haechan moves you down to the floor, forcing you to stand on all fours and you’re so glad you follow his lead. “Spread your knees. Bring your head down,” he instructs and you do as you’re told, extending your arms in front of you. Haechan has his hand on the dip of your shoulder blades, holding you still until you have no choice but to press your cheek against the carpeted floor, ass in the air. “Good girl,” he praises, kneeling behind you and rubbing his tip along your folds. “Ready, baby?”

He doesn’t wait for your answer.

With only a few minutes in, you know you’re getting close, you can feel it. He has switched from giving deep, hard thrusts to quick, shallow ones and it’s driving you insane. “H-Haechannie, I—” you whimper, “I’m close—”

And he knows it too, of course he does. He can tell by the way you’re clenching around him. But instead of going harder and driving you completely over the edge, Haechan suddenly laces his fingers with yours, his lips painting soft kisses from your nape down to your spine, his hips hitting another angle that feels just as amazing even when he slows down the pace. The intimacy surprises you as you don’t expect him to be this tender. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like you’re doing this out of sheer passion. With his palm covering the back of your hand, fingers slipping between yours, somehow, everything feels more sentimental, stronger, crossing the lines.

With a moan of your name, Haechan flips you to your back, fingers framing your face, lips meeting lips as he thrusts back in, gasping against your mouth. “I want to see your face,” he says when he pulls away, his half-lidded eyes boring into yours, thumb slipping between your lips. “Not sure if I’ve told you this before but…” He snaps his hips, and you tangle your legs around them in response, fingernails digging into his upper arms. “You’re so beautiful.”

The knot in your stomach untangles without warning and your orgasm hits you so hard, you nearly sob at the sensation. With the way you’re quivering and squeezing around him, Haechan follows right after, his face sinking into the crook of your neck, hips stuttering as he rides out his own orgasm.

***

With his jeans back on and his used condom thrown away to the nearest trash bin, Haechan joins you back on the carpeted floor as you still haven’t found the strength to get up and get dressed after that. He shamelessly lays his body down on top of yours, his cheek pressing against the valley of your breasts. “I’m spent,” he mumbles, feeling drowsy.

“Haechannie?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re heavy.”

“I know.” But he doesn’t get up, only moving his head slightly to press a tiny kiss to your bare chest before he lies his head down over your heart again. You give up with a smile, wrapping your arms around him, fingertips stroking his hair. Haechan sighs contentedly under your touch. “Man, that was…”

“That was?”

“Amazing.” He props himself up on his elbows so he can meet your eyes. “You’re amazing.”

Your heart jolts at the sincerity in his words but you cooly smile back. “I know.”

“And I’m amazing too, I’m sure?”

“Meh,” you shrug. “Could be a little better but I’ll let you practice on me for free.”

“Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head, his strands tickling your nose. “I don’t even have the strength to join your banter. You know, I’ve always wondered since you’re pretty much shit at everything, there must be something you’re good at. But I never thought that something would turn out to be sex. I can’t even believe I’m saying this but you’re really, really amazing at it. I feel like I should give you a medal or something.”

“Thanks,” you flatly mutter. “Not sure if you’re praising me, though.”

“Oh, I am praising you, believe me. And you know me, I rarely praise.” 

“Stop it,” you use your robotic voice. “You’re making me feel so special, I’m about to cry.”

Haechan playfully nips at your nose, forcing you to break off your act and laugh directly into his mouth. “Seriously,” he says, breaking off the kiss. “If I were to pay you for sex, I would give you everything I own. Even the clothes I’m wearing. Hell, I’d even sell my grandma but don’t tell her that.”

Your laughter has reduced into small giggles. “That’s comforting.”

“So…” The way Haechan is caressing your hair is so soft, almost like a mother to her sleeping child. “What should we do about this?” When you raise an eyebrow, he tensely adds, “Do you, umm… I mean, do you want to, like—”

“You’re rambling.”

“I know, God, I’m so nervous! I may look like a naughty, sexy bad boy—”

“No one is saying that—“

“But I actually suck at this—as in, I don’t really know how to date a girl.”

“You don’t even know how to talk to a girl, based on the conversations we’ve had,” you comment and you know it’s not helping but it’s worth seeing his adorable pout. “Then don’t date me. If it’s hard for you to date, then let’s just keep being friends—"

“But I want to continue this!” He says it so fast and firmly that you don’t even have time to feel hurt about your offer. 

It’s not like you crave a relationship with him—you haven’t thought about it that far—even just holding him like this is enough for now, so the fact that he’s so excited to have this going makes your heart swells with joy. “Well then, we’ll be friends who have casual sex anytime we want,” you suggest.

He blinks twice, a bit amazed at your offer, but to your surprise, he seems rather… disappointed? “What happens if we start catching feelings?” He quietly asks.

“Then I guess we’ll start dating for real.”

“Then…” He runs a hand through his hair, nervous. “What happens if I already have feelings for you?”

He states it so quietly, it’s a miracle you can even hear him. “Do you want to date me, Haechannie?”

He looks away, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “Do you want to date me?” He murmurs against your skin, unsure and flustered.

You heave the heaviest sigh you’ve ever done in your life. “You’re unbelievable. I’ll decide for us then. Starting now, we’re dating.”

He lifts his head, and if he were a puppy, he would’ve had his tail wagging behind him, even when his face doesn’t show much. “That easy?”

“That easy. What, you have something to complain about?”

“No.” He grins, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. “Hey, girlfriend.”

“Ugh, get off me, you’re gross.”

But no matter how hard you push your palm against his face, Haechan only giggles and turns you around so this time, you’re lying on his chest. “So,” he pushes a few strands of your hair behind your ear. “You like me, huh?”

“No, what makes you think that way?”

“Says the girl who just slept with me.”

“I slept with you ‘cause I was just curious about your dick. Jeno said you had a dick that was the size of his thumb.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Didn’t you see his InstaStory last night?” You reach up to gather your phone from the coffee table. “I took a screenshot of it actually. Man, you should’ve seen the comments. They’re hilarious.”

Snatching your phone away, Haechan runs his eyes along the words written on the screen. “That son of a bitch!”

Simpering, you sneak a peek under his boxer. “Well, he’s not wrong.” 

“Oh, it’s on,” he deadpans, throwing your phone away and pushes you back down on the floor. His eyes glinting mischievously. 

“What are you doing?” You’re still half-laughing when he brings your hands over your head, holding your wrists together with one hand as he settles between your thighs, his fingers hovering dangerously close.

“I’m gonna make you take your words back.” He wets his lip, one corner of his mouth turning upward. “Time for the second round, baby.” 

***

[wildishmazz]

I've watched two versions of Starmania over the past couple of days(I'm supposed to be writing a dissertation about Starlight Express and gender politics so ofc I've found a new rabbithole), the 1989 Rouge Edition and the 1994 English version at the Mogador, and I keep thinking about Sadia and how drastically different she is between the two already drastically different productions.

In the 1989 she is a trans domme with charisma and magnetism off the scale. Her introduction is a showstopper that basically says "I'm a genderfuck and you don't know what to do about me except take me on my own terms. Fuck you if you don't like what you see, but I know that you do"(I didn’t count how many times the word "travesti" appears, but it's a lot). She drops her former co-conspirators in the shit after feeling(whether justified or not) that she's been usurped by a newcomer and rejected by the antiestablishment terrorist group she essentially created.

In the 1994, she's a performatively rebellious child of the elite ruling class, apparently cis and very young, who enjoys slumming it and automatically expects to be put in charge. Her song is altered to "I'm a very versatile sexual chameleon who can roleplay any character type you like, but I’m the one who chooses what it's going to be, not you", with maybe the slightest hint that she's not cis("you deserve a bit for free"). She's unpleasant and immature, it's hard to see how she gained a following of people willing to commit violence at her word, and it's no surprise when she apparently gets tired of the whole rebellion thing after she's not allowed to be in charge any more and returns to the ruling class, betraying her former friends on her way.

I just feel that the 1989 Sadia is a far more compelling, sympathetic, and ultimately tragic character. It's easy today to see her as an example of a child of immense wealth and privilege who gets thrown out of all of that after coming out as trans, who picks herself up and rebuilds herself from the ground up after that fall. As an abuse survivor existing in the margins of a harshly stratified society, she has to develop a lot of coping mechanisms. She is flexible, resourceful, charismatic, tough as nails, and hypervigilant to threats and percieved threats. She finds a handful of misfits, identifies their leader, and stays a step back as the brains of the organisation while he's the face. They are her found family, and relies on them for acceptance and security.

But then Cristal happens. Cristal is the presenter of the tv talent show Starmania(much like Hunger Games' Effie Trinket), pretty, hyperfeminine, the very face of unthinking privilege and wealth, potentially everything Sadia wanted to be before her fall from grace. Sadia still has the right connections and dregs of social capital to contact her with the offer of an interview with the Black Stars, intending to use her platform to further their cause. What she doesn’t anticipate is an explosive infatuation between the Black Stars' leader Johnny and Cristal. It's galling in many ways when Cristal joins them, and with the zeal of the convert pushes for more extreme ideas than Sadia, leading to the Black Stars listening to her instead. The final straw for Sadia comes when she threatens to leave and no-one tries to stop her. In a very short space of time, she loses her influence over Johnny, loses her position of authority in the group(to someone who effortlessly embodies what she wanted to be before her first rejection), and finds/feels that the people she previously trusted, her found family, don't care about her at all.

And she brought it on herself by inviting Cristal to interview Johny.

Her pain, her rage, her rejection - they eclipse what she already felt for the elite ruling class, because a)this has only just happened and b) these motherfuckers should know better than to turn on one of their own when they should be united against a more powerful enemy. It's bad when your family of origin reject you because they don't understand or accept what you are. It's worse to be rejected by the people who do understand and accept your truth, who should be on your side.

And, aside, the more powerful enemy is pledging that "we will no longer be slaves to nature". There might be something in that that appeals to her. Sadia's been hurt and rejected by both sides, but she can get revenge on one of them by playing them against each other - the rising fascist dictator and the antifascists trying to stop him.

She does. Cristal dies. And fascism takes over.

And this version of the character just feels so much more authentic, emotionally cohesive, than the rebelling-against-Daddy-by-being-promiscuous-and-starting-a-terrorist-cell-then-throwing-a-privileged-tantrum-that-gets-people-killed Sadia of 5 years later.

[staticscreenwriting]

HOME // Bucky Barnes

Request: Could you do a Bucky Barnes imagine where he blips but the reader is pregnant so when he comes back he meets their daughter? If not that’s totally understandable and I hope you have an amazing day/night 💕

A/N: Look, I love writing angsty Bucky. But I also love writing happy Bucky. Hope y’all love reading this ♥  Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated.

Join my taglist here! [additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

Thanos being defeated was not the end of it all. It seemed like it. The grand heroic solution to all problems. The ultimate test before things got better. Before they got easier.

That was a lie.

Bucky looks across the vast area of the Stark’s estate as people, all dressed in black, mourn the loss of a dear friend, an idol, a husband, a father.

That word sends a wave of anxiety and fear through him. He knows he can’t run forever and really, he doesn’t want to. He just doesn’t know how to deal with — everything. How to be the man he needs to be. How to step up and not fuck this up.

Sometimes fear makes you do stupid things, really stupid things. Like avoiding the love of your life because you are too afraid of what she might think of you.

His eyes find (Y/N) as she leans against a tree, lips pulled into a sad smile as Sam rambles about one thing or another next to her. This isn’t right. Sam shouldn’t be the one cheering her up and trying to get her to smile. It should be him. If only he wasn’t such a coward.

People don’t talk about these things though. They only talk about those that had been gone now being back again. They talk about the joy of being reunited but not the fears, the sadness, the disappointment — and they sure as hell don’t talk about the guilt.

The guilt of coming back after 5 years to find out you missed so many important moments in the life of a child you never knew you had.

His eyes wander down towards the little girl holding on tightly to her mother’s hand. She has his eyes, his dark hair, his lips. She’s a spitting image of his younger sister. A Barnes through and trough.

Every time he looks at her his heart beats out of his chest in a way he’s never felt before. When they say that the love for your own child is an instant emotion, they are not wrong or exaggerating.

The moment he came back from oblivion and first laid eyes on her, it felt like his heart had known her all his life. He wanted to hold her and shelter her from all the bad things the world might throw her way. Wanted to kiss her little nose and read her stories and sing her silly little songs. He hated singing but for her, he wanted to do it. Just because that’s what dads do.

But fear is one hell of an emotion and above all, it’s terribly convincing.

He’d never had a particularly good example of a father. It was different times then. Different ways of raising your child. Fathers weren’t meant to show affection, they were meant to enforce rules and order. How could he ever be good at this? He doesn’t have a single clue how to do any of this.

And then there’s the fact that he’s left (Y/N) alone to deal with all of this. Every first has been forever taken from him. First breath, first cry, first word, first steps. Every little thing.

Would she resent him for it? For not being there when it mattered?

So he ran. He came back and he ran.

She doesn’t deserve this and neither does (Y/N). They deserve so much better.

“ It’s time Buck. “ Steve speaks up as he leans against the porch railing next to his oldest friend.

“ Are you still sure about this? “ Bucky asks, not taking his eyes off of his girls. His stomach feels like he’s swallowed a bag of bricks. Life was supposed to be easier after Thanos. This isn’t easy. This is just scary. And sad.

“ That, “ Steve says and nods his head towards (Y/N) and the girl “ that’s your second chance. I gotta take mine. “

Bucky turns to look at his friend trying to figure out what to say next but coming up empty. What do you say to that? Steve deserves to be happy. He deserves to be where his heart always has been. Does it mean Bucky thinks it’s the right choice? Not necessarily. But he understands. Had it been him and (Y/N) he would’ve crossed time and space to be with her.

Which is ironic to think because now all he does is avoid her. Because that’s the coward he is.

“ Alright let’s go. I’ll grab Bruce you do — whatever you gotta do. “

He dares to send one last look towards (Y/N) and this time she’s looking back with a soft eye and a timid little smile on her lips. None of which he is deserving of.

Steve let's go of Sam, parting with one last friendly slap on the back before turning towards Bucky.

Bucky's throat feels dry and rough and while his head is swirling with words he wants to say, none of them really make it past his lips. He's known about Steve's idea for a few days now, has had time to let it settle and come to terms with it. It still breaks his heart but sometimes that's what you do for the people you love. You support them on their path to happiness even if it hurts you in the process.

"I'll miss you," Bucky finally manages to say and he wraps his arm around his friend's shoulder. "You'll always be my brother."

"I know. I'll miss you too. But I know you're in good hands." Steve responds and lets his gaze wander towards the house, no doubt talking about (Y/N) and the kid.

"Promise me something, Buck." He says as he pulls away.

"Anything."

"Talk to (Y/N) and get to know your daughter. She's a Barnes through and through. And she loves you so much, they both do. Let them. Love 'em back."

"Kid doesn't even know me," Bucky murmurs, nervously glancing at the floor.

"What? You really think that? Buck, all we did for the last 5 years was try to keep your memory alive. For us but especially for her. We showed her pictures and videos and (Y/N) told her so many stories. She knows you and she loves you and for the first time in her life, she's living in a world where her dad is alive and present. Go, be with them. You guys need each other."

He's right. Of course, he's right. Steve has this fantastic ability to be right when it matters.

“And don’t do anything stupid until I get back!” Steve adds, making a small smile appear on Bucky’s face.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you. “

They embrace each other one last time before Bucky whispers another “I’ll miss you” and Steve tells him that “It’ll be okay, Buck”.

And then everything happens so fast. One moment he’s living in a world where his best friend is by his side and a minute later all of that has forever changed.

Bucky wipes his eyes with the back of his hand one last time before looking at himself in the mirror. He knew this moment was coming, Steve told him. He had time to come to terms with it and yet it’s a completely different situation now that it’s done. Parting with the only family you’ve ever known breaks your heart in ways you’ve never known are possible.

As he steps out of the bathroom something solid crashes against him and as he looks down, a pair of identical blue eyes stare back at him. He’s not been this close to her since he found out about her, keeping her at a distance. To protect her.

His arm was made to kill how could it ever hold a child and keep it safe?

She stares at him for a moment before a small “Hi” falls from her lips. It’s shy and timid and adorable and all Bucky wants to do is cuddle her to his chest and never let her go.

He doesn’t get the chance though as another little girl rushes past them and calls out to his daughter to follow her which she does.

“Who is that?” Bucky hears Morgan question.

“That’s my daddy, but I don’t think he wants to see me. Mommy says he needs time but —“

He doesn’t hear the rest of her words as the girls round the corner and get swallowed by the sounds of the other guests still mulling around sharing stories about their fallen hero.

But it’s enough. He doesn’t need to hear more. Those words are enough to rip his heart out of his rib cage, crush it up into a million little pieces, and spread it in the winds, never to be able to be put together ever again.

“Hey have you seen — oh Bucky are you okay?”

He doesn’t deserve her tenderness, her kindness, and her care, and yet she still exudes the same love she’s always held for him. Love he was never deserving of from the beginning.

It doesn’t matter at that moment though, who deserves what and who doesn’t. He’s too caught up in the breaking of his own heart. So he falls into her arms as silent tears slowly but surely make their way down his cheeks.

“She thinks I don’t want to see her.”

“Who does?” (Y/N) says as she gently combs her fingers through his long hair.

“My own daughter. “

(Y/N) pulls away slightly, holding onto his shoulders and looking deep into his eyes.

“Are you ready to talk about this now? Ready to stop avoiding me ?”

Bucky only nods and lets her lead him outside past the guests and down to the lake where it’s quiet and serene and life seems to slow down a little. She keeps holding on to his hand, his vibranium one, as they settle on a bench facing each other.

“ I missed you, Bucky.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He’s been told those words so many times and it’s still hard to believe in them. Even when he knows they’re true. There will always be a hint of doubt since him. Always.

“I don’t — I don’t want her to think I don’t love her. Or want to be with her. I do love her very much. More than I have ever loved another person, including you, and you are my everything. I’m just overwhelmed and — and scared.” He admits. It’s the first time he says those words to anyone but himself. It feels good. It feels right. But it doesn’t take the fear away or the guilt.

“James, she knows you love her. Not a day went by that I didn’t tell her how much her daddy loves her and wants to be with us. And it’s okay to be scared. I was scared and I only had to deal with a baby, not an opinionated 4-year-old. It’s okay to be scared but you can���t let the fear hold you back. You’re the bravest man I know. You laugh in the face of danger. What changed?”

“Stakes are higher this time. What’s losing my life compared to ruining my daughter’s?”

“You’re not gonna ruin anyone’s life, Buck.” (Y/N) exclaims and softly pets the side of his face. She’s always been so gentle with him. Such a contrast to the touches he was used to.

“I don’t know the first thing about being a dad. Mine wasn’t a very good example. I have been trained to kill, to cause pain. My arm is a weapon.”

“Your arm has shielded me from bullets and harm so many times. It’s held me close at night and wipes my tears when I was sad. Your arm is only a weapon if you use it like that. And all the other stuff, that’s not you anymore. You know this. “

He can see the treads now welling in her eyes too and it makes his heart twist and constrict in many painful ways.

“And I left you alone during all of it. Missed the last 4 years of her life and the entire pregnancy. How am I gonna make up for that, for leaving you alone?”

It feels like once he’s started talking he can’t stop. All his fears and worries flow from his lips like tidal waves in an ocean. Crashing against the shore of truth.

“You didn’t leave us Bucky. You were taken from us. We never blamed you for that. I know you wanted to be there. I never doubted that for a second. Look, I had 9 months to come to terms with my fears, you didn’t have any time to face them. I get why you are freaking out but uh — it’s time to step up. You know what makes a good dad? Being there when he can be. Showing he cares. Can you do that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I can.” Bucky promises and smiles a smile of content. One of hope. His fears and his guilt aren’t gone. But maybe if she believes in him and Steve does, maybe he can be the man and the father he needs to be.

“Good. We really do love you, Buck.”

“As in present tense?”

“Of course. We never stopped. Now can I ask one more thing of you?”

“What’s that?” In the end, it wouldn’t really matter. Whatever she asks he’ll do it. For her, he’ll do anything.

“Can you kiss me? I’ve been waiting for 5 years to finally kiss you again. I can’t hold out much longer. “

He grants her not one kiss, not two. In fact, he loses count as they get lost in many many loving kisses. Maybe, Bucky thinks, soulmates really are a thing. Maybe there are people on this earth meant to find each other. Meant to go through hardships together and still find their way back to one another in the end.

Whatever one chooses to believe in. Bucky is certain she is his person in this life and the next and through whatever might come their way.

He’s sitting on the big red couch in (Y/N)’s apartment, nervously fumbling with the tassels on one of the throw pillows as his eyes wander around the room. There are so many pictures, hung on the walls and placed on side tables and shelves. His child’s entire life up to now, caught on film for him to relive if only in his mind.

There are pictures of him too. One of him and Steve in the 40s, laughing and leaning against each other in support. (Y/N) always said it was one of her favorites. “You’re so happy in it. That’s how happy I want you to be all the time.” She’s told him once.

Next to a picture of (Y/N) and their daughter is a picture of him. He’s sure it’s placed there deliberately. To remind everyone he is a part of this family, even when he wasn’t there.

He is here now though. The next picture put up will be one of all three of them.

The front door opens and a melody of voices echoes through the place. (Y/N)’s laughter and the sweet giggle of his little girl. It’s his favorite sound in the world, he decided then and there. Nothing will ever compare.

The girl rushes into the room then comes to an abrupt stop in front of him.

“Hi,” she says in the same small voice as she did at the Stark’s house. Only this time Bucky doesn’t just stand and stare at her, unable to move or speak.

This time he holds out his arms and speaks up.

“Hi, I — I'm sorry it has taken me so long. I don’t know what I was thinking. I love you, Darling. Can I hug you?”

She doesn’t say yes or no, doesn’t glance at his vibranium arm with hesitance of fear. She falls right into him, wrapping her little arms around his neck and cuddling into his chest. It feels like this is where she belongs, like this is where she was always meant to be. Like his arms were made to hold her and never let go. And maybe, Bucky thinks, maybe they were.

“I love you too, daddy.”

He liked being a sergeant. It’s a title that has always filled him with pride. It has nothing on the title of being a dad. That one means so much more. Fills him with a pride and love he’s never previously known.

For the next few moments, he gets lost in the feeling of holding his child. A perfect little girl who is part of him. The good. Only the good. It all comes together in her. No nightmares or guilt or fears. Only love. So much love. He holds her close to his heart, wishing he could’ve done this when she was just a baby. Feel her heart beat in rhythm with his. He places little kisses up and down her small face. On her chubby little cheeks and her cute bottom nose, making her scrunch it up and let out soft giggles.

It’s strange to be the man he is and act so gently with another human being. But it feels so right.

His eyes find (Y/N)’s across the room, filled with tears though this time they are happy ones. With an outreached hand he beckons her over and pulls her onto the couch and into the hug.

This is right. Nothing has ever felt this real. This happy. This perfect.

His girls cuddle into him with nothing but love filling their hearts. This is the life he wants, the one he has always wanted. The life he fought for. The life he will never stop fighting for.

Steve was wrong. They aren’t his second chance.

They’re his only chance.

His destiny.

His family.

His home.

TAGLIST:  @stayherefor-evermore  - @booksb4looksstuff​ - @captainofallfandoms - @charmed-asylum​

[thestarrynightslover]

I'll Make It Okay for You - Part 1

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Reader

Word count: 3,666

Warnings: Discussion, yelling, some angst, mentions of drugs, and drug abuse. 

Summary: What happens when (y/n) (y/l/n), Harvey’s secret crush and a junior partner at his firm, openly defies him in front of everyone?

You can find Part 2 here.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the show Suits, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: So, this is my first Harvey Specter fic and I’m obviously quite unsure about it, lol. This might’ve ended up like one big mess, cause I tried to combine a bunch of Harveys I wanted to see. The perfect recipe for disaster, right? Anyways, I hope it doesn’t suck too bad and, please, feel free to give me feedback, cause I’m also here to learn!!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

You’d barely stepped out of the elevator when you were met by your secretary that morning. That couldn’t mean anything good.

“Morning, (y/n/n). You’ve got an emergency meeting with Jessica today. Gonna give you the schedule on the way there.” Lucy stated, leading you on the opposite way to Jessica’s office.

“Oh, I got the memo; company’s under attack again. She wants me on the frontlines this time. Louis is probably running around saying ‘We’re at war, people, war!!!’, or something like that. But why aren’t we headed towards the boss’ office?”

“Apparently, uh, she wants y’all to convey at Harvey’s office.” She said hesitantly, as if afraid of your reaction.

“Are you kidding me? It’s the first hour of the morning and she wants me to go see that smug face of his?” You pouted childishly.

“Smug and hot, you mean.” Lucy corrected you, getting an outraged look from you in response, as she usually would by saying anything positive about Specter.

“Shush,” You said, motioning for her to stop talking, “ one shall not praise Harvey Annoying Specter around me.” You stated full of obstination, but the younger woman just laughed you off and said:

“Well, here we are. I guess I’ll just have to send you an e-mail with your schedule, since, once again, we spent our schedule minutes of the day talking about “the enemy”.” She mocked with gestures and everything this time. That Lucy really was a piece of work, she timed the whole thing perfectly, in a way that you couldn’t even repudiate her insinuations because you were already standing in front of Specter’s office door.

Not long after you had entered and Jessica had officially started the strategy-meeting, though, all eyes in the room turned to you, as your phone started ringing in your back pocket. "Shit! I'm- I'm so sorry, guys, I guess I-"

"Can you please take your job seriously for once in your life, (y/l/n)?" You heard Harvey Pain-In-The-Ass Specter rudely remark, as you tried to swallow your embarrassment.

“Well, like I was trying to say, I’m sorry. Gonna turn it off right now, won’t happen again.” You said, directing your apologetic look to Jessica.

“You should just go ahead and answer it, could be something important.” She calmly told you.

“Especially now that you’ve already interrupted our work.” Specter chipped in again, which just gave you more fuel to answer the goddamn phone.

“Hello, yeah this is her.” You confirmed to the man on the phone, while taking a few steps towards the corner of the room. “What??? Are you sure? Oh my God! O- okay, just tell me which one and I’ll be there as soon as possible! Right, thank you.” Everyone’s eyes were on you, trying to understand what made you look so distressed. Except his, of course.

“Wait a second. Are you leaving right now?” He asked with a mix of annoyance and irritation in his voice.

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry, Jessica, but this is a family emergency. I have to go.”

“Well, I just hope you know that this doesn’t look good for you, (y/n).” She said, voice inexpressive.

“I do and, honestly? I couldn’t care less about that right now.” You firmly told her, while hoping your career wasn’t over by the next morning.

“I hope everything goes well for you and your family, (y/n). If you need anything, and I mean anything, just let me know.” Louis told you with that childish smile of his. Jesus, even in a moment like this, he tried to flirt with you.

“Thank you, Louis. That’s very kind.” You faked a tiny smile.

“Unbelievable.” 

“What?” You asked, turning back to face Harvey.

“Your firm is under attack and you’re leaving because of some stupid family crap?” Was he even serious?

“Precisely. And I don’t really care what your thoughts are on it. Our priorities are clearly very different.” Who the hell did he think he was to say anything about your family’s issues?

“Well, that shouldn’t matter because, the minute you walk in here, through those elevators out there, you’re supposed to leave all things personal behind.”

“Oh, right. I’m so sorry that I’m not some heartless lawyer like you, who’s just in it for the petty fights in the name of money-making.” Shit. You needed to get the hell out of there before you said something else to make Specter wanna kick you out himself. So you did. Stormed out like there was no tomorrow, leaving nothing but the very shocked Donna, Jessica, Louis, Mike, and Rachel behind. Oh, yeah, and a very pissed-off Harvey Specter.

Okay, maybe you were a little too harsh, but given the place you needed to go, to do what you needed to do, you didn't care about Harvey, your job, or anything else.

---

It was much later on that same day, around dinner time, that you heard a soft knock on your door. But how could someone be at your door, if the doorman downstairs hadn't announced any visitors? Were you dreaming? Well, the day had been so tiring that that wasn't exactly impossible… Nonetheless, you made your way to the door, whilst holding your very needy three-year-old nephew in your arms. Not that you could blame Henry after the day he’d had.

Since you weren’t expecting anyone, it was reasonable to believe that, whoever it was, was going to be a surprise. But not in a million years would have you ever guessed that Harvey Specter was the one knocking at your door. Especially considering what had happened at the firm earlier. How did he even know your address?

“Hi, (y/l/n). I didn’t know you had a kid.” He stated with a bit of surprise of his own, pointing to the little boy you were carrying.

“No, uh, I don’t have any.” You managed to say, trying to control your shocked expression. “This is my nephew.” You clarified again, a little more at ease this time.

“My name’s Henry. What’s yours?” You heard your nephew ask with his cute child-voice.

“Harvey. It’s, uh, it’s very nice to meet you, Henry.” Harvey told the boy, holding out his hand for him to shake, as a sweet smile came to his lips.

“Is he your friend, auntie (y/n/n)?” Henry asked you hesitantly, before making a move. The Don’t Talk to Strangers Rule must’ve kicked in his mind. 

Before answering him, you hesitated a little bit yourself, though. Was Harvey your friend? Obviously not, but if he came to your apartment in the middle of the night like this, it was probably because of something important. Work-related, of course. Which meant you’d have to let him in, so you settled for what would be the easiest classification for a three-year-old.

“Yeah, bud, he is my friend from work.” Hearing that, something in Specter’s eyes changed, you didn’t really know what, though.

“Well, then, can he come play with us?” He gave you such a cute look, that you almost said yes right on cue. But you obviously couldn’t. 

“You’d have to ask him, but I’m sure he has a lot of other, more important, things to do now.” You tried to explain to the little boy, giving Harvey a look. But you didn’t get too far, as the lawyer quickly said:

“Of course I wanna go play with you! That is if your auntie’s okay with that…” Now he was mocking you, that was the only explanation.

“Can we play with him, then, auntie (y/n/n)? Please, please, please?” God, what horrible thing could’ve you possibly done to deserve this particular punishment?

“Um, I guess... If he really has nothing better to do-” Harvey didn’t even let you finish your sentence.

“I really don’t.” He said, shooting you and Henry a bright smile that you’d never seen before.

“Okay, then, come in. Please disregard the mess, I got this stuff to make dinner, but someone just won’t detach, right, mister?” You asked your nephew with fake annoyance in your voice, as you tickled his sides a little bit. He just laughed at you. Though what really caught your attention was the fact that Harvey, too, was chuckling lightly at the scene, as he started picking up your groceries’ bags from the floor. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you, what else?” You gave him a weird look because, well, it was a weird situation. Maybe he noticed your discomfort because he added: “You look tired, so I’ll help you by making dinner and putting the rest of these away.”

“You’re kidding, right?” There was no way in hell that the All-Mighty Harvey Specter was gonna get domestic for you, of all people. Since he didn’t bother to answer, you went on: “First of all, what was it that you really came here to do, hum? And, second, I don’t need your help with anything.” Normally you tried to be kind to everyone, but, then again, Specter wasn’t exactly your normal kind of guy.

“Well, first of all,” he started in a tone of mockery, “that was rude! Look at the example you’re setting for little Henry!” Oh God, as much as you hated to admit it, he was kinda right, because you had completely forgotten about the little boy still cradled in your arms. “Second, we can talk about the reason why I came here later,” after your nephew’s asleep, was implicit in his speech, “third, it looks like you do need some help. And, for your luck, I happen to be a very good cook when I want to.”

“But-” You could barely begin your sentence, as Harvey sharply cut you off:

“You see, buddy,” he started, motioning to Henry this time, “the quicker we get your auntie on board with the game plan, the quicker we’ll get to eat and go play together!” Son of a bitch! Using a child to get to you…

“Can we please, auntie? Please?” How could you not crack after that pleading?

“Fine, but I swear I’ll make you pay if we wake up with food poisoning tomorrow, Specter.” You told him playfully, trying to lighten the mood after all of your bluntness.

“Oh, trust me, (y/l/n), you won’t. This will be the best meal you and the young man here will ever have in your entire lives.” He said cockily, but without the usual arrogance level, if that even makes sense.

A few hours and a really great dinner later, you and Henry couldn’t help but snicker shamelessly at Harvey’s ridiculous faces, as the three of you played a game on your living room’s floor. Trying to catch your breath from your giggles, you glanced up at the clock and realized that it was way too late for your nephew to be out of bed like that. So you broke up the game, announcing:

“It’s bedtime for you, Mr. Henry.” You watched the faces of the pair turn into ones of pure disappointment, as they prepared to pout.

“Just a little longer, auntie (y/n/n)! please!” The little boy started.

“Yeah, auntie, just a little longer! Please?” This time it was the grown man, one of the toughest Wall Street lawyers.

“As moved as I am by your synchrony, guys, the answer is a big no. C’mon, bud, let’s go brush your teeth. And then straight to bed. So say bye to Harvey, and thank him for being so nice to us tonight.” He looked between you and Specter as if still hoping for a hail Mary of some sort.

“Bye, Harvey.” He sounded so sad, but then he smiled brightly again, as he repeated what you’d told him to say word by word: “And thank you for being so nice to us tonight.” Hearing that, both you and Harvey chuckled lightly at the young boy, who quickly added: “Will you come see us tomorrow too?”

“Uh, we’ll, uh, we’ll see about that, okay, little man?” He tried to let Henry down slowly but, watching the boy’s expression become a sad one instantly, he added: “It’s just because both your auntie and I have a lot of work ahead of us tomorrow, but I’ll do my best, okay?” That was definitely a side of Harvey you’d never seen before, he had even bent down to be on your nephew’s level.

“Okay.” Henry said quietly, seeming to be a little happier, too.

“Okay, then let’s just go upstairs already.” You took the boy’s hand to guide him towards the spare bedroom’s bathroom, all the while shooting Specter a look that told him to wait for you a little longer.

“I’ll wait for you down here.” He said, proving he understood what your eyes tried to transmit.

So you headed upstairs with your nephew and, after a good fifteen minutes of brushing Henry’s teeth, helping him into his PJs, and tucking him in, you finally managed to come back to the living room, where you found Harvey looking through some of your photos displayed on the sideboard. For a minute or two, you just watched him. It wasn’t that you liked what you saw or anything. It wasn’t. It was more like postponing the weird conversation you two were bound to have, because, after all that had happened in those few hours, the atmosphere was, at very least, a strange one. But, almost as if he’d felt your gaze on his back, the lawyer in him was switched on, and he interrupted your thoughts by saying:

“Ah, you’re back. Good, because we need to talk.” You just motioned for him to follow you into your home office. But both you and Harvey looked so informal to be in that kind of environment, that you just indicated the small couch on the wall opposite to your desk for you to take your seats in.

“So, uh, before you even say anything, I wanna thank you for being so kind tonight,” a small smile came to your lips, as you remembered, not only the evening but how your nephew had used almost those exact same words, already imitating you, a little earlier. Specter smiled too, you noticed. “and I also wanna apologize. If you came here to talk to me… I must’ve made you waste a lot of time, huh?” You tried with a half-smile this time, as embarrassment started taking over you.

“What? No, of course not! I'm pretty sure that I told you I didn't have anything better to do, didn't I?" He calmly asked with a smile.

"Yeah, but I'm not buying it. You're Harvey Specter, isn't that what you're always saying? And Harvey Specter always has something better to do, isn't that right?" You shot back in a mockery tone, regaining your confidence.

"Well, maybe. But, not today. So don't apologize, and don't thank me. I'm the one who should be thanking you, I had a really good time tonight." Okay, now you were shocked. He had a good time?

"Uh, okay, um, so... What was so urgent that you had to come here in the middle of the night?" You nervously ranted, while tugging your hair behind your ears. He just stared at you, so much so that you almost repeated your question.

"Um, yeah, about this morning… That's why I came here…" You were already guessing that that would come up eventually, but it was the topic of your conversation? "I know that you and I always had our differences, and maybe even some rivalry-"

"Some rivalry? Dude, I'm just a junior partner, and ever since I started on that firm you've been persecuting me-"

"I wouldn't say persecuting…"

"Oh, you wouldn't?"

"Not since you made junior partner anyways. Now it's just a healthy rivalry between work friends…" He tried to use what you’d told your nephew earlier. 

"Oh, so you do admit you were persecuting me when I was an associate, huh?"

"Shit." He muttered quietly, as you watched him with a victory smile on your lips. "You know what? Hell yeah, I did persecute you when you were an associate." Hearing that blunt admission of guilt, you just couldn't find anything to say. “You wanna know why? I did that because, from the first time I saw you doing your job, I saw this very thing that I see now: you kicking ass, you think I wanted to admit this to you? I’ll answer it myself: no, I didn’t. The only reason why it happened is that you led me to it.” He blurted out, completely knocking you off your socks.

“So, um, you treated, you treat me like shit because, um, because I’m good?” You asked, still unsure of what to think about his confession.

“Well, that was part of it, sure. So, you see, I could understand it when you weren’t particularly thrilled at the perspective of working with me. But, this morning, you said that I’m a heartless guy who only cares about money… Is that really what you think of me?” This time he sounded genuinely sad? When Harvey said that he’d come to your apartment to talk about that morning, you thought he was gonna reprimand the shit out of you for disrespecting him ⎯ your sort of boss, a senior partner ⎯, but, apparently, he was asking about it on a more personal level. A level you’d never really thought played a part in your relationship with him.

“Oh, Harvey…”

“Be honest, please. I don’t want your pity. You don’t even know me all that well, so don’t try to minimize anything. I can take it.”

“That’s not what I was gonna do. And, trust me, you’re probably the last person in the world I’d pity.” You told him with a sly smile. “You’re right. I don’t know you all that well. Or, at least, I didn’t this morning. But I do know that you’re not heartless. Also, I was really out of line then, I’ve seen you fighting tooth and nail for a lot more than just money in that firm. You’re loyal to your firm and friends like no one else and, tonight, I watched you sitting on the floor and playing with a little boy. And, trust me, that meant more to him than you’d ever know, especially after today… Anyways, what I’m really trying to say is that I was so damn wrong and that I’m sorry. I’d gotten some pretty nerve-racking news beforehand, not that that’s an excuse but...” You told him, meaning every word and trying hard to show how much you regretted your previous actions.

“Wait, what news?”

“Ah, it’s nothing for you to worry about, really.” You tried to brush him off.

“Oh, c’mon! You said all those nice things about me, but when it comes to your life and your problems you still don’t trust me, isn’t that right?” His tone was sharply inexpressive, but his eyes showed he was actually hurt.

“What are you talking about? Oh my God, Harvey! I’ve relied on you for a number of cases that I really cared about! I let you in on my apartment! I let you spend an entire night around my nephew! Of course, I trust you!”

“Then what the hell is the problem? You think I’m not gonna give a damn about your family issues? Is that it? Because I am literally begging you to tell me about them!”

“I don’t wanna tell you because I don’t want you, or anyone else on the firm, to think that I’m some pathetic little girl who uses her family issues as an excuse to get out of a tough fight.” You confessed in a lower tone, slightly embarrassed, just hoping he would understand and stop poking. “Things are very different when you’re a woman, you know…”

“I would never think that about you. Family is important. Especially if it’s made of people like Henry…” He said, reassuring you, even though there was a hint of sadness in his voice. “Besides, you said you trust me, so you need to trust me when I say that I wouldn’t betray you by telling people about your problems. I’m not here as your boss, (y/n). I just wanna help you.” He sounded so sincere and, if you were being honest with yourself, you kinda really needed to vent.

“Okay, um, where to start? I have two sisters: Henry’s mother, Kat, and a fifteen-year-old, Lisa. I’m the older one of all three of us. Lisa’s sick, like very sick, so my parents, who are both retired, are with her at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, to try and get her better. In the meantime, Kat was supposed to go to college, as well as care for her son, between my parents and me, she wouldn’t even need to provide for them or anything. But, a while ago, she overdosed for the first time. That’s when we found out about her addiction. We’ve already tried a million different things but nothing works. So, my parents and I threatened to make her lose her parental rights over Henry, hoping that it’d be a wake-up call for her, but it backfired. She just took the boy and disappeared, then today I get that call, from the police department, saying that she was in custody for drug distribution and endangering the well-fare of a minor. They asked me to go pick my nephew and, maybe, get Kat a lawyer.” And, just like that, you’d told Harvey Specter, of all people, everything. Tears rolling down your cheeks and him pulling you into a hug.

If anyone had told you that that was how your night was gonna go, you would have definitely laughed them out of the room. But now, just sitting there, being held and caressed by Harvey, as you let your armor down, it was finally beginning to look like things were gonna be okay. 

[arotechno]

Jughead (2015), Issues 9-11: Discussion and Commentary

This brings us to the first arc written by Ryan North, who saw that the aroace Jughead train had left the station and simply could not resist tagging along for the ride. If you’ve followed anything about Jughead as a character at all, then you’ve probably seen many screenshots from these three issues before. It’s the Sabrina arc (that’s right, as in the teenage witch)!

I have a lot of analysis at the end of this one, so buckle up!

The gang ends up at Pop’s, as usual, where Jughead meets the shop’s new mascot, a talking burger lady. Jughead is, unsurprisingly, thrown off his game by this. After all, burgers are his one true love, but girls? He doesn’t really have an interest in them. It’s a confusing moment for him, and when his friends witness this, well… they assume he’s got a crush on her.

This is an iconic page in the “aro Jughead” canon. Here we have Betty trying really hard to be a good friend and doing what in her mind is the best for him, trying to help him through what she and the others perceive as his first crush. Jughead, meanwhile, is diving headfirst into a spiral of confusion (and later, discomfort) at the idea of having any sort of interest in another person.

I want to give my utmost respect to Ryan North for explicitly having Jughead say that he doesn’t get crushes. It’s not the only time that North does this during this arc, and I think it makes all the difference between making this awkward and relatable rather than making it seem like Jughead is being stripped of or “cured” of being aro.

Betty pushes Jughead to talk to Sabrina (the burger lady—it’s Sabrina), and after a while of running into each other day in and day out as Jughead frequents Pop’s on a regular basis, they strike up a friendship. Jughead has gotten what he wanted—to be friends with the cool burger lady—and he seems genuinely satisfied.

…But unfortunately, things do not go as planned for Jughead. The next time they see each other, Sabrina asks Jughead out. And Jughead, in true stereotypical oblivious aro fashion, agrees, without realizing until it is much, much too late that what he has just agreed to is a date. Like, a real date.

If you think about it, Jughead has probably never been asked on a real date before. And this is something I ABSOLUTELY would have done (and may still do today, if I’m completely honest with myself) as a teenager. Jughead’s immediate regret is so palpable here, and so relatable to me as an aromantic.

In his panic, Jughead turns to his friends for help. They are… not helpful. They’re trying to be helpful, sure, but whereas Jughead doesn’t really seem to want to go through with this at all, his friends are more set on giving him romantic advice (with varying degrees of usefulness). Jughead really has to go out of his way to defend himself and insists on multiple occasions that he thinks the girl in the burger costume is cool and interesting, but that he doesn’t like-like her, he doesn’t even really know her!

Unfortunately for Jughead, he ends up going on the date. And who does he call for help? His only other openly queer friend (I say openly because let’s be real with ourselves, none of those kids are cishet), Kevin Keller.

And okay, this scene with Kevin is genuinely kind of funny. You get the impression that Kevin has had a lot of practice dealing with straight bullshit, and that he’s more than a little disappointed that Jughead’s “big emergency” turned out to be something this totally mundane and not worth his time.

Ultimately, Kevin is also super not helpful, even after Jughead steals his phone in an attempt to get him to come to the table and diffuse the awkward situation Jughead has found himself in. So Jughead resorts to what I can only assume is plan Z, which is to call Archie for backup.

Only semi-related, I really love the way Ryan North writes conversations between these two. It just feels really genuine and believable. And anyway, I don’t know what Jughead was expecting, but resident himbo Archie Andrews is of no help to him, and only ends up making things a hell of a lot worse.

This leads to Sabrina rushing off to the bathroom and casting multiple spells to try to get Jughead to at least play along, if not outright fall in love with her, all of which fail spectacularly and only end up making her far angrier with him. I don’t blame her for being upset—the date was a total disaster, and right at the moment Jughead was about to be honest with her, Archie showed up and made things worse. Sabrina storms out, and vows that she’ll get revenge on Jughead for this, somehow.

All of Sabrina’s subsequent spells on Jughead also backfire. She tries to make him fail his classes, and he passes with flying colors; she tries to make him spend the whole day with resident asshole Reggie, but he ends up befriending him against all odds. She even ends up unleashing a giant eldritch horror by accident, and—well, that’s not important.

In the end, Jughead decides to make things right. He never meant to hurt Sabrina, and she seems to be in a tough spot, having just moved to town, so he brings her some food as a peace offering and explains what really happened. And Sabrina is… surprisingly receptive, in fact more receptive than Jughead’s friends were when he came to them for help, despite the fact that this is something they should already understand about him. Being upset with Jughead wasn’t doing her any favors, so Sabrina already seems to be at peace with what happened and is more than willing to forgive him and be his friend despite all that transpired between them.

This is a really great scene. There’s a nuance to it—the way Jughead acted on their date was unfair, both to Sabrina and to himself. He needed to be honest from the beginning, but instead, he just kept trying to escape. At the same time, Sabrina gets it, and it wasn’t very cool of her to try to use magic to get what she wanted, either (not that Jughead knows she did that).

Jughead helps Sabrina re-enroll in her old school and quit her job at Pop’s to move back in with her aunts, so that she can live out the rest of her teenage years the way she’s supposed to. Afterwards, Sabrina and Jughead both seem really happy, and thus volume two ends on a positive, quiet note.

I really like this arc, for the reasons I’ve already stated and more. It’s funny and awkward and endearing (I say that a lot about this series, don’t I?), and it portrays a realistic and relatable aromantic problem without it being aboutaromanticism. It’s more about Jughead being honest about his feelings and making a new friend than about Jughead being aro, even though that contextualizes the situation. A great deal of the series is about that—Jughead being honest with himself and others. In the first arc, it’s Jughead shaking off a persona of apathy. In the second, it’s Jughead being honest with Archie about their friendship and the way Archie’s behavior has been making him feel. Here, it’s about Jughead being honest about who he is at his core, and accepting it about himself—and Sabrina accepts it, too, no questions asked. Even if he never says “I’m aromantic,” the sentiment is there plain as day, and it’s a refreshing beat for the story to land on.

That said, I do have a bone to pick with this arc. There’s a line in the sand here between Zdarsky and North. In the last arc, we saw Zdarsky portray that really subtle but meaningful interaction between Archie and Jughead, in which Archie seems not only keenly aware of Jughead being aromantic—even without the word—but also tacitly supportive of him, such that he knows immediately when he’s crossed a line. Here, we see Ryan North take a bit of a step back from that, such that Archie may be aware of Jughead’s orientation but seems way too quick to assume all that’s changed the moment there’s even a sliver of possibility that Jughead has a crush. That’s the reality of having different writers stepping in to interpret the same characters in loosely connected stories like this, but it still bothers me. I prefer Zdarsky’s style of storytelling in general, but in particular I also prefer his portrayal of Archie, as much as Ryan North’s on-the-nose aro moments and undying love for Reggie make me very happy. As a whole, nobody ever stops to ask Jughead what he wants, they only tell him what they think Sabrina wants. Jughead says so himself:

I suppose one could make the argument that Jughead’s friends, or even Jughead himself, are only really aware of the asexual bit (if at all—for all we know Veronica and Reggie have no idea, for example) and that’s why they don’t only never mention aromanticism but also sometimes seem ignorant of it. It’s possible that the aro side of Jughead’s orientation is still something he doesn’t have the words for, despite it being a truth he knows about himself, and in fact I think that would have been an interesting angle to take, had this series continued beyond 15 issues. But what I have an issue with isn’t so much the fact that Jughead’s friends are unhelpful (because let’s be real, sadly a lot of us have been there), but the fact that never are they asked to apologize for pushing him to do something he so clearly didn’t want to do. Whether he or they know he’s aromantic or not, he was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of going on this date—and not just due to a lack of experience. I would have liked it had Archie, or Betty, or Kevin apologized, or even once asked him what he really wanted. Betty comes the closest, by talking it out with him in the first place, but even she still earnestly pushes him to go through with the date anyway.

Anyway, there are two arcs left for me to discuss, and frankly I’m not as enthused by either of them as I was for these past three, for a variety of reasons. The Ryan North train continues for one more arc, and then it’s on to Mark Waid and Ian Flynn’s big finish. Those two updates might come a little slower. Until then, I was going to include a compilation of Jughead looking uncomfortable, but I've only got one image slot left thanks to tumblr, so instead I leave you with this:

Same, Jughead. Huge same.

[whythinktoomuch]

attempt #37

This was the 52nd formula that Lena had come up with, the 45th solution that she had to wait several hours to synthesize, but only the 37th time she was injecting her shoulder with the resulting concoction. 

It was bright green this time, which only made it seem all the more promising.

There’s a rush and some mild nausea that Lena had come to expect with the experiments, but everything else felt the same. For now. Setting the syringe aside, Lena called out, “Hope, think of a number between one and a million.” 

Then, for the 37th time, Lena tried. She cleared her own mind, practiced the meditative mantras, stared intently into Eve’s eyes, bright blue yet blank with Hope’s quiet disinterest, and... nothing. Not a single digit came to mind. 

No matter how hard Lena tried, the only thoughts in her head were her own. 

With an exasperated sigh, Lena rolled her sleeve back down and directed Hope to log their latest attempt as yet another failure before storming off to start her day. 

// 

Lena emerged from the laboratory with wrinkled clothes and dark circles sunken around her eyes, which was probably why the first thing she heard as she stepped out of the elevator was her personal assistant’s hushed commentary of, Oh sweet Jesus, she looks tired. 

“Oh, I’m well aware, Hector,” Lena said, lofty and without much malice. “Nothing a little coffee can’t fix though.” 

Hector stared at her blankly. “I’m sorry, Miss Luthor?” 

“Never mind,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. She took the outstretched coffee in question as she walked by the assistant’s desk. “Just hold all my calls until the afternoon, please.” 

This time, when Hector grumbled under his breath about wow, she must be grumpy too, Lena ignored it. There were better things for the CEO to tackle, after all; as for example, some fitful sleep on her couch, perhaps? 

Hours later, Lena was relatively well-rested, so she pored over her notes again, trying to pinpoint the exact variable she must have overlooked in her carelessness. Because by all accounts, the formula should have worked—Lena had been certain of it. But then again, she’d admittedly thought that of almost every attempt thus far. 

When Hector walked into her office at some point in the late afternoon with a handful of contracts to be signed, Lena felt no closer to the solution and a slight headache coming on.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” 

“Another coffee would be great,” Lena said, as she sifted through the documents. 

“Oh my God, if she takes in any more caffeine, her heart’s going to literally explode...” Hector muttered to himself. “Well, maybe she won’t notice if I get her decaf instead...?” 

Lena dropped the papers onto her desk with a scoff. “You know I can hear you, right?” 

Hector appeared startled, which seemed rather appropriate until he slowly said, “So... was that a yes on the espresso?” 

“What?” 

Hector maintained his slow cadence, carefully enunciating every syllable as if he were repeating himself, “Did you want to stick with your usual order... or maybe go with an espresso... because it’s a little stronger?” 

But in a normal cadence, also in Hector’s voice and somehow clear as a bell in Lena’s head came, “If this woman doesn’t get another nap in pronto, she is going to drop dead, and everyone’s going to think I poisoned her coffee, because she’s always in—” 

Absolutely stunned, Lena continued to stare up at Hector in silence, eyes narrowing as the assistant’s slightly panicked voice droned on and on in her head. Until a louder remark broke through the reverie. 

“Whoa, did she just fall asleep with her eyes open?” 

Lena blinked quite obviously, and her mild shock was accompanied with a loud and clear, yet unspoken Oh, thank God! from Hector. 

But the Hector standing before her hadn’t moved his lips once, only watching the bewilderment play out on Lena’s face with some polite concern. 

“The usual’s fine,” Lena interjected before her assistant could press again. “Or the espresso, or whatever. I don’t care, as long as it’s still hot and caffeinated.” 

“You got it,” Hector said. 

“Definitely getting her decaf,” Hector thought as he turned to leave, but Lena hardly minded. She was too busy restructuring the rest of her day around this most exciting realization. 

After some quick bit of arithmetic in her head, Lena set a timer on her watch for five hours, which was presumably the amount of time it would take for her body to break down the serum and render it useless. Then she logged on to her private interface and happily directed Hope to re-record attempt #37 as a success. 

//

The ability to read minds was, quite simply, quite the advantage. 

Though it wasn’t so much “mind-reading,” as mind-receiving. The serum seemed to have granted Lena access to the loud and active thought processes of everyone around her—their inner monologue, if you will, everything put into words but left unsaid. 

Lena had been hoping for more, to be able to break into other people’s minds so as to hack secrets, determine why supposed close friends would ever betray her, and the like. Maybe that would come with time and practice. 

But as it turned out, there was rather plenty to be gleaned from the forefront of someone’s mind, as people often thought about the things they weren’t supposed to say before choosing more palatable means of expression. Which made the rest of Lena’s workday somewhat informative, if not a little fun. 

For one thing, Lena found out that a lot more of her employees enjoyed working for her than she had thought. All of them respected her, several feared her, and quite a fair few entertained invasive thoughts about her décolletage before swiftly directing their attention elsewhere. 

She also found out there was one board member in particular who liked to fudge the numbers during meetings, and that his face took on a very unappealing shade of off-white when Lena could inexplicably confront him with the actual results of his findings. 

But most importantly of all, what Lena found out was that... she actually enjoyed this heretofore inaccessible sense of control this ability afforded her. She had taken on the experiments for a very specific purpose, but now, it was difficult to even imagine going back to how things were, even after the fact.  

// 

Lena walked into the DEO, and for the first time, the outpouring of distrust attached to the Luthor name was all but imagined. The disparaging thoughts followed her, even as the people who had them smiled or averted their eyes as she passed. 

Nothing she wasn’t used to though. 

Alex’s voice slid into Lena’s head in a whisper—... the hell?—one whole minute before she actually greeted her, “Lena, hey... Well, can’t say that I was expecting you.” 

“Yes, that’s what it sounds like,” Lena mused, and Alex gave her a slight frown. 

“So, did you need something?” 

“Where’s Kara? I want to talk to her.” 

Alex’s carefully composed face betrayed no emotion, but her thoughts sighed heavily, “Of course...” before ebbing away into something entirely indistinct and indecipherable.

Lena blinked. She hadn’t encountered anyone whose thoughts weren’t immediately accessible to her before. But here Alex was, giving directions to Kara’s current whereabouts, all the while muttering some underlying commentary in tones so hushed that Lena couldn’t quite make out any of it. 

“... Is there something on my face?” Alex swiped her sleeve across her forehead. “What are you looking at?” 

“What? No, nothing,” Lena said brusquely. “Thank you for telling me where Kara is. Bye.” She turned on her heel, headed for the hallway that would eventually lead to the training room. 

“Well, that was weird...” Alex’s voice drifted after her, a literal afterthought. “But I mean, I guess she has a nice ass, so—”

Lena shot a dirty look over her shoulder, but Alex was already back on her computer, mind rattling off coordinates and running through tactical drills like a well-oiled machine. 

// 

Kara was wearing short shorts and a sports bra, panting, and absolutely drenched in sweat when Lena stepped foot into the training room. She looked over at Lena, her skin glistening against the dimmed green of the kryptonite-lined walls, and smiled wide. 

“Oh, hey! What are you doing here?” Kara asked, giving the punching bag one last jab before tugging her gloves off. "Did something happen or...? I mean, not that I’m not happy to see you, of course.” She flashed Lena another bright grin before pressing a towel to her face and neck and chest. 

It was enough to stop Lena in her tracks, and almost enough to put a damper on her plans. Almost. 

“I need to talk to you,” Lena said evenly, eyes glued firmly to Kara’s forehead. 

“Yeah, sure! Jeez... I’d give you a hug, but I’m like sweating in places I didn’t even know existed. Alex says that this is the only way to learn proper form and all, but wow. I can’t believe there are humans who actually do this for fun—” 

“Kara,” Lena cut in, lips pursing in exasperation. “I’m serious. We need to talk right now.” 

Kara blinked, then slowly nodded. “Okay, yeah, let’s talk... You wanna sit down?” 

“I prefer to be standing.” 

“Okay.” Kara remained standing as well, towel now crumpled in her hands. “So, what’s going on?” 

Lena took a deep breath, quickly running through the meditative techniques meant to keep her mind clear and open, then asked, “Why did it take you so long to tell me that you’re Supergirl?” 

Kara’s shoulders slumped. “Lena, I...” 

“No, why did it take three years? Why didn’t you trust me?” Lena continued, her pace steady and firm just like she had practiced. “I trusted you. I trusted you with every part of me, which is extremely difficult for me to do, and you just... didn’t care, I guess.” 

“Of course, I care. Lena... I never meant to hurt you,” Kara said insistently. Her voice was loud, emphatic, and at the moment, the only thing Lena could hear.  

“Don’t!” Lena snapped when Kara started to approach her. “Don’t come any closer. And stop talking! Just listen.” 

Kara exhaled sharply through her nose and raised her hands in tentative surrender in absolute, utter silence. Lena even paused for a beat or two, just to see if any of Kara’s thoughts would breach the surface, but none did. 

“Why couldn’t you just trust me, Kara?” Lena asked, and regrettably her voice trembled on the last syllable. “Why did I have to hear it from Lex?” 

Kara’s eyes widened. “Lex? Lex told you before I did?” 

“Shut up. Do not talk,” Lena hissed out, waiting for Kara to snap her jaw shut before continuing with a bitter laugh, “Do you, do you even trust me now...?” Kara stared, gaze hardening. “And how do you expect me to trust anything you have to say for yourself now?” 

Lena’s questions—all of the above and beyond—were met with silence, strained only by the sound of Kara’s heavy breath and Lena’s own thoughts. 

Scoffing, Lena threw up her hands. “Do you even care that you hurt me?” 

“... Can I talk now?” Kara demanded, seething like she had any right to it. But when Lena shook her head furiously, she held her tongue and apparently everything else as well, because Lena couldn’t hear a single damn thing. 

When the alarm on her watch went off, Lena left, slamming the door on her way out. She contacted Hope through their private channel and had her re-log attempt #37 as just another failure. 

Back to the fucking drawing board. 

(next part here)

[khaleesiofalicante]

LIGHTWOOD BANES WEEK - ALEC & MAX

Alec was peering through the report from the Head of the LA Institute, Julian Blackthorn, when there was a tentative knock on the door.

Huh. That was odd.

When Magnus had made Alec an office room – and by made, he meant literally summoned it from nowhere – Alec had been secretly pleased.

Of course there were downsides to this kind of gift – like when Magnus magically made the room vanish, along with Alec’s belongings, when they had a little domestic quarrel.

There was no need to knock before entering Alec’s office because the room didn’t have a door - a gesture from Magnus that Alec appreciated. It was to show that anyone who needed Alec’s help was welcome.

But it wasn’t the door-less knocking that Alec found odd, but it rather who it came from.

He was used to his son barging into the office – or any room rather, much to Magnus’ dismay.

So this was new. And a little odd. 

“Max?” Alec took off  his reading glasses and glanced at his son.

The blue-eyed boy was standing awkwardly in the threshold of the room – where a door should have been.

Alec realized he was waiting. Odd again. 

“Come in,” Alec gestured at the seat in front of him.

Max pulled it back and sat down - properly. Odd. Odd. Odd. 

Max would always walk in and share some random fact he found out - all the while sprawled on the chair like a cat, with his feet hanging off the side. The boy never sat down properly. 

But now, he was sitting carefully, his feet ready to bolt any minute. 

“What is it?” Alec asked, feeling concerned.

He has been the boy’s father for 17 years. One would think Alec had gotten around to figuring out this whole parenting thing. But it was an endless course – with a lot of surprise pop quizzes.

This seemed like one of them.

“I wanted to ask you something,” Max said, staring at his knotted hands.

Alec’s anxiety deepened. Max never hesitated. If there was something he wanted to ask, he would simply ask.

“Okay,” Alec tried to sound calm. “What is it?”

“It’s a bit…You know what?” Max suddenly got up. “I’ll google it.”

“Sit down,” Alec said, the tone of the Consul creeping in. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”

“I don’t know how to ask,” Max said awkwardly.

“Use your words,” Alec said softly. “Is this shadow world business?”

“Oh no no,” Max shook his head immediately. “It’s…It’s, um, It’s about…a boy.”

“Did some boy at the institute say something to you again?” Alec demanded, his fingers itching for his bow. “Because if someone did, I wil-”

“No, it’s not like that,” Max looked frantic. “It’s about a boy…I like.”

Oh.

Alec blinked.

Oh.

“A real boy?” Alec asked. “Not one of the mundanes from your posters?”

“It’s a real boy,” Max’s lips twitched.

“Okay,” Alec smiled, feeling equally giddy and nervous about the prospect of his son dating. “What’s his name?”

“Nuh-huh,” Max shook his head. “Not happening.”

“Is it a shadowhunter?” Alec asked, leaning closer. “What institute is he from?”

It could be a shadowhunter. Max did spend an awful lot of time in the New York institute. Alec had always thought it was because of “Uncle Jace” but maybe there was someone else…

“Dad, stop!” Max groaned. “You know what? This was a mistake. I’ll ju-”

“Sorry. Sorry,” Alec raised his hands in surrender. “Alright. What did you want to ask?”

Max looked away. Alec saw his horns quiver a little – a telltale sign that Max was anxious.

“Max,” Alec called softly. “You can talk to me.”

“You won’t freak out?” Max asked, biting his lip.

“I won’t,” Alec promised. He could do this. He has been a father for more than a decade. He can do this.

“Okay,” Max took a deep breath. “When you’re with a boy…and you’re a boy…and there are like two boys…”

Alec gaped. “There are TWO boys!?!?!”

“No. No. Just one,” Max looked horrified. “I mean there are two, but I’m one of them!”

“Oh okay,” Alec regained his composure.

He was okay with Max dating however many people he wanted of course – as long as they all consented – but he had to admit talking about one itself seemed like a challenge. He will need a little more time to prepare for anything else. He needed to take baby steps!

“When there two boys,” Max started again. “How do you know…like how do, um, how do you know what happens?”

Alec chuckled.

“Well, it works differently for different people,” Alec pointed out. “Sometimes you always know you like boys and sometimes it takes a certain someone to help you realize and other t-”

“I know I like boys,” Max interrupted, and Alec wasn’t surprised to hear that. “That’s not what I meant.”

Alec frowned.

“Then what did you mean?” Alec asked. “You need to be more specific, Max.”

Magnus seemed to be running out of patience. He sighed. “When there are two boys…How do you know which one is which?”

“Which one is what?” Alec asked, genuinely confused.

“You know,” Max prompted. “When you have sex. How do you know which one is which?”

Alec blinked.

And then he blinked again.

And it dawned on him. So much for baby steps. 

“YOU’RE HAVING SEX???”

“Shhh!” Max whispered furiously. “You promised you won’t freak out!”

“I’M NOT FREAKING OUT!” Alec whispered loudly – totally freaking out.

“Stop it!” Max warned.

“IS IT A SHADOWHUNTER?” Alec whispered loudly. 

“I’m gonna go to my room,” Max got up.

“Sit down. Sit down,” Alec said quickly.

He can do this. He can totally do this.

Alec reached down and grabbed a bottle of water and started chugging. Max eyed him worriedly.

“You okay?”

Alec nodded, chugging more water.

“We haven’t had sex yet,” Max pointed out. “Just hand stu-”

Alec choked and the water spluttered all over the desk.

Max flicked a wrist and the contents of the table dried themselves immediately.

“This was a mistake,” Max said quietly. “I should have talked to Bapa.”

For some reason, Alec felt oddly touched by that.

Max had come to him.

Him.

“Why didn’t you talk to him?” Alec asked curiously.

It was a no brainer that Magnus was the ideal person to talk about this.

“Because I was worried he will do another PowerPoint,” Max rolled his eyes.

Alec chuckled.

Magnua was ideal. But he was also a little too enthusiastic.

When Max and Rafe had come of age, he had sat them down done a presentation on safe sex – with a Q&A session too.

Rafe had thoroughly enjoyed it and put up his hands multiple times.

Alec and Max however had briefly conspired to make a portal and run away to Peru since Magnus wasn’t allowed there.

“I did ask Uncle Jace,” Max smiled a little.

“Uncle Jace?” Alec couldn’t help but feel offended. “Uncle Jace isn’t even…Uncle Jace has never been with….UNCLE JACE HAD SEX IN HELL FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.”

“By the angel, dad!” Max swore - and as always the nephilim phrase on his warlock son’s lips made Alec smile.

“Why would you talk to Jace about this?” Alec asked.

“I dunno,” Max shrugged. “He is always chill about these things. And he can talk to me about sex without choking on water or turning red.”

“I’m not red!” Alec protested.

“Your face looks redder than Aunt Izzy’s broccoli soup,” Max giggled.

“First of all, broccoli soup is not supposed to be red,” Alec pointed out worriedly. “Secondly, I’m not embarrassed. Never of you.”

Max gave him a tiny grin in response.

“Did you ask Uncle Jace because this boy is from his institute?”

Max just glared and Alec conceded.

“What did Uncle Jace say?” Alec inquired.

“Nothing,” Max chuckled. “He got emotional and said ‘they grow up too fast’ or something and I quickly escaped before he started crying.”

“He never told me anything about it!” Alec said, feeling betrayed.

“Well, I kinda told him not to,” Max winced.

“Why not?” Alec asked, feeling a little ashamed. “Do you not want to talk to me about this kind of stuff? Do you…Do you not trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you,” Max said without missing a beat. “I just…I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable."

Alec’s eyes softened – as did his heart.

“Max,” Alec said softly. “When I was your age, I would have never even thought of talking to my father about this kind of thing. I don’t think any of us could. We were…scared. Ashamed of our bodies and our sexualities. Confused and lost. I don’t ever want you feeling like that.”

“But I-”

“And I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t talk to me,” Alec urged. “I’m your father. You can always talk to me about anything.”

“Are you sure?” Max asked, biting his lip.

“Always,” Alec repeated, his eyes steady.

Max still looked unsure.

“This is what I fought for, Max,” Alec said gently. “You’re what I fought for.”

Max smiled at that. “You promise?”

“I promise,” Alec smiled back. “But are you sure? I don’t want you to do things because you feel like you have to do them.”

“I want to do it,” Max whispered. “I just…I don’t know how or who should…”

Alec took a deep breath. Okay he can do this.

He did want this son to talk to him about anything, but Alec had to be careful with his words. He wasn’t the most eloquent person, and he wasn’t suave like Magnus.

He felt nervous about messing this up or telling Max the wrong thing.

Whenever Alec felt anxious, he immediately thought of Magnus.

A different memory every time. But each one always managed to pull him back. Each one always powerful enough to give him the strength he needed.

An image of Magnus gliding him across the ballroom in Venice swirled into his mind. He remembered looking at his own reflection and realizing he had never been happier.

An idea struck him. 

“Think of it like dancing,” Alec told his son now.

Max blinked, his blue eyelashes fluttering. “Dancing?”

“Yeah. Waltzing for example. There is someone who leads and someone who follows,” Alec pointed out. “Some people feel more comfortable with leading, and others feel more comfortable following. It changes from person to person.”

Max’s brows knit in concentration. “Okay. I see where you are going. Go ahead.”

Alec grinned and gave himself a tiny self-five under the table.

“But just because you like leading, it doesn’t mean that you always have to lead. It’s the same for following too. Sometimes you want to lead and then other times you might want to follow.”

Max considered that. “So, you’re saying whether I want to lead or follow changes with everyone I date?”

“It could, nothing wrong with that,” Alec pointed out quickly. “It could also be with the same person too. Sometimes you want them to lead or follow for a change.”

“And that’s okay too?”

“Of course,” Alec nodded. “But you need to make sure they want to do it. Just because you want them to follow or lead, doesn’t mean they should. Same goes for you.”

Max nodded, looking way too serious for a 17-year-old boy.

“Sometimes you don’t want to change how you dance and that’s okay too,” Alec pointed out. “If you think you only want to lead, then that’s it. Just like with following. If you are more comfortable with following, then stick to it.”

“Okay,” Max said slowly. “But how do I figure out if I want to lead or follow?”

Alec thought about it for a moment.

“Well, sometimes you instinctually know,” he said carefully. “Your body knows what it wants and what it feels comfortable with.”

Max hummed.

“Think about other stuff,” Alec said, trying not to sound awkward. “Like kissing. You should know where you like to be kissed and where you don’t. It’s just like that. You need to listen to your body. Trust it. Trust your instincts.”

Max nodded again. “Okay. What if I…What if I lead and then I don’t like it?”

“Then you try following,” Alec replied. “Sometimes you might not like that either. If you like neither, that’s okay too. Just because everyone is dancing, it doesn’t mean you have to do it too.”

“Oh,” Max said now. “Oh okay.”

“It depends on a lot of things,” Alec said. “The music. The space. These can all affect whether you want to lead or follow or do neither. But the most important thing is your dancing partner. You can’t dance by yourself.”

“Well, technically you can,” Max grinned, and Alec saw a shade of Magnus’ cheekiness reflect in his blue eyes.

“Max!” he chastised.

“Sorry. Sorry,” Max put up his hands. “So, about the dancing partner?”

“You need to trust them and they need to trust you,” Alec said, a little more seriously now. “Dancing can be a little intimidating sometimes. Especially if you haven’t done it before. It’s easier when do it with someone who you trust. Someone who will catch you if you trip and won’t judge you for being clumsy.”

“This analogy is getting out of hand,” Max muttered.

“But you do get my point, right?” Alec asked, still serious. “It’s alright to want to have sex. But remember that it’s not always about who does what. These roles...They don’t define you. Sometimes…Sometimes people will say things.”

“Things?” Max bit his lip worriedly.

“Sometimes,” Alec said, because he didn’t want his son to worry. “For example, if this boy is a shadowhunter, then people might expect him to lead. Because they think shadowhunter men shouldn’t follow.”

“He is not a shadowhunter, dad!” Max grumbled.

“Regardless…The point still stands. They will say people who lead the dance are better or that people who follow are inferior. They will try to tell you whether you should lead the dance or follow. Don’t listen to them.”

Max nodded again, as if he knew. It pained Alec to think that Max was already exposed to this kind of toxic stereotypes.

“Whether you are leading or following, what matters is that you enjoy the dance,” Alec told his son. “Don’t let anyone tell you what to do with your body. Only you get to decide that.”

“Okay,” Max said, he was smiling now. “Okay, dad.”

“Are we good?” Alec asked. “Do you have any questions?”

“It’s just like dancing, right?” Max asked. 

“Just like dancing,” Alec winked. “You’ll figure it out.”

Max thought for a minute. “Okay I think I’m good.”

Alec let out a quiet breath. Somehow it felt like he had passed an important exam.

“Good,” Alec smiled back. “That’s good.”

“This didn’t go as awkwardly as I thought it would,” Max chuckled.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Alec rolled his eyes fondly. “Now. About this boy….”

“I’m not telling you anything!” Max shook his head.

“Just tell me his last name!”

“It’s not a shadowhunter, dad!” Max rolled his eyes.

“Are you sure?” Alec asked.

“Well, now that you ask,” Max said, with a grin that suited the devil. “I do remember a strength rune on his abdomen the last time I li-”

Alec’s hands flew to his ears. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU. BLAH BLAH BLAH. I CAN’T HEAR YOU.”

Max moved closer to him and removed Alec’s hands and ruffled his hair affectionately. Alec, not for the first time, realized that Max was an inch taller than he was.

Suddenly it didn’t feel weird that Jace had almost cried. They did grow up too fast.

“Thanks for the talk,” Max winked. “I love you, dad.”

“I love you too, buddy,” Alec said.

“Okay then. I’m gonna go hang out with Rafe,” Max said trying to sound nonchalant.

“Are you going to the institute?” Alec raised an eyebrow.

“Think what you want,” Max grinned but then paused. “You won’t tell bapa I’m seeing someone, right? I don’t want him stalking this boy on Instagram.”

“Is that some kind of warlock hang out spot?” Alec asked.

Max barked out a laugh. “Sure. I have seen plenty of warlocks on insta. But just don’t tell him. Not yet. Can you make a promise?”

“Of course!” Alec said in an offended tone as he followed Max to the door. “You think I can’t keep a secret?”

“I think you can’t keep a secret from your beloved husband,” Max replied as he picked up his backpack.

Alec rolled his eyes. “Your bapa is not the boss of me.”

“Huh huh,” Max grinned as he ran down the stairs. “Yeah, I’ve heard the two of you dancing.”

“MAX MICHAEL!!” Alec yelled after him.

“Just don’t tell Bapa,” Max warned with a blue finger. 

“Don’t tell Bapa what?” Magnus emerged from the bedroom, wearing a purple robe, looking extremely curious and cheeky. 

Max and Alec stared at each other. 

“Nothing!” they both said at the same time.

“If this is about the boyfriend, I already know,” Magnus rolled his eyes. “Max, I'm rather hurt you’d think I wouldn’t figure it out. I’ve been following the boy on instagram for months now.”

Instagram! Alec had to find this place. Maybe he could ask Jace to help him find this warlock hideout. 

“You’re Great Poison on Insta!” Max gasped in shock. “I should have known! Only you could come up with something lame like that!”

“Hey!” Magnus protested.

“You knew?” Alec demanded from Magnus. “And you didn’t tell me! Who is this boy? Is he a shadowhunter?”

Magnus blinked. “Oh. You don’t know. Oh my god, Alexander. You really don’t know? This is going to be so much fun!”

“Magnus, tell me now!”

“Nope,” Magnus grinned and Alec knew he wasn’t going to give it up anytime soon. 

Alec put his hands on his hips. “No more dancing for you!”

Max giggled and covered his mouth. 

Magnus looked confused. “Meh. You aren’t that good of a dancer anyway,” he shrugged and walked away.

Max doubled down laughing. Alec didn’t think it was funny one bit. 

“Is there anything else I don’t know?” Alec demanded. “Is Rafael secretly married?”

“You never know,” Max winked and he ran down the stairs. 

“MAX, GET BACK HERE!” Alec yelled but Max was long gone.

Alec went back to his office room, grinning to himself.

He felt absurdly proud of himself. He didn’t think it was possible for a shadowhunter to talk about something like this. Let alone for a shadowhunter to talk to his own son about something like this.

But here he was. Once again, redefining possibilities for his people.

For his family.

“You want to come stalk this boy on instagram?” Magnus asked from the threshold of the office. 

“No, thank you,” Alec rolled his eyes. “I’d like to respect my son’s privacy.”

“Very well,” Magnus shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He focused on Julian’s report again for five minutes before his resolve broke and Alec barged into the bedroom.

“IS HE A SHADOWHUNTER OR NOT!?!?!”