#so i think a compromise might have been to insinuate something in the time jump that they could decide or not to use for the spinoff

[youmakethelight]

I've got my conspiracy theory hat on for the s11 finale time jump. And. I have a theory.

[lovelivingmydreams]

My nieces are fanders

Summary: When you meet a super cute guy and land a date with him, you definitively want to gush about him with someone. In Nico’s case that someone is his oldest sister. The visit holds a surprise for him though.

This is part of a bigger story which starts here

Nico was humming to himself as he walked up the driveway to his older sister’s house.

“I can’t wait to tell Marcia all about Thomas!” Félix gushed. It’d been a week since they met him and while they had yet to look him up, deciding it was cheating a little to watch his content and maybe accidentally see more than Thomas wanted to share before they even went on their first date. Ràmon, his morally flexible, deceptive facet, still thought they should at least just check his accounts to make sure he didn’t oversell himself. “I’m sort of known on youtube” might just have been an exaggeration to impress him. Léon, his fury, was already working himself up over being misled when the others came to Thomas’ defense. He seemed rather humble about all his accomplishments. He deserved the benefit of the doubt. “She’ll be so excited for us!” Fabio, his heart, gushed. “Hope mom and dad won’t be too upset that they aren’t the first we told…” Alejo worried as he bit his lip. “We will tell them about Thomas if we come to a stage where we are ‘officially’ dating him,” Diego, his logic, reminds him. It was how they did things. His parents were a bit too supportive sometimes. If he mentioned Thomas, mom would start insisting he come over for dinner no matter how Nico insisted they weren’t that serious yet. His father would ask questions he didn’t have answers for and he would feel entirely too pressured… Best to tell them after he and Thomas got a bit farther. And he really hoped he would get to tell them about him soon. He rang the bell and soon the door opened to reveal a beaming Marcia. “You smelled my cooking didn’t you?” she asked. Nico chuckled. “You caught me,” he confessed as he threw his hands up in surrender while letting her embrace him. “It’s good to see you again hermanito,” she sighed before letting him go and leading him inside. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Yi will be home soon and he’ll entertain the kids afterwards so you can tell me what’s got you sparkling like the fourth of July.” Marcia looked back at him and quirked a brow curiously. Nico blushed a little. He was that obvious huh? His sisters eyes lit up and she was grinning like th cat that got the cream. Well he just confirmed her suspicion. “Okay, sounds good,” he muttered casually. Luckily Marcia let it go for now. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asked. “Just a glass of water is fine,” Nico assured her while he leaned against the kitchen counter to watch her work. “Tio Nico!” Nico looked up and saw Marcia’s oldest, his 15 year old niece Carla run up towards him to give him a hug. He embraced his niece with a smile and ruffled her hair. “How are you kids doing?” he asked as the teen girl let go. “Fine. Felicia hasn’t finished her homework yet, but she will be down in a minute.” Nico nodded taking note of cousin’s pronouns for today. It had been an adjustment for everyone when Fabien came out of his room wearing a skirt for the first time and asked to be called Felicia on days she felt more feminine, but they hardly slipped up anymore. “We have something awesome to show you!” Carla continued her eyes sparking with excitement. “Oh?” he asked curiously. “What is it?” “Don’t start without me!” Felicia exclaimed as she rushed through the door and hugged Nico as well. “Now I’m getting nervous,” Nico chuckled as he let his nieces push him into a chair and sit down next to him. Carla was looking something up on her phone while Felicia seemed to be using hers to film him. “Tio Nico. Have you ever been serenaded by a stranger?” Felicia asked. The general confusion in Nico’s head left him with no other response other than cocking his head. “Um… no…?” he replied. His nieces giggled. And then Carla pushed her phone in front of him and they shoved earbuds into his ears. She pressed play and before he knew it he was faced with…. “Thomas!!!!” Félix  screeched in his head. It was unfair of him to look so handsome. And then he started singing! “Nico, radiant and pure. Always so, accepting and secure. Never knew anyone so kind. So funny and sharp of mind. All this to say… Have a nice day.” And then he winked! Nico’s nieces were giggling at his flustered face. Alejo inspected the screen and found a description in the corner. “This week’s #shout out Sunday goes to all the nice Nico’s of the world” he read out as he slowly relaxed. Nothing that insinuated Thomas was thinking of a particular Nico. His nieces had probably just thought it was fun to show him the video. Perhaps they thought he’d be enchanted by the handsome stranger with the voice of an angel seemingly singing for him. They weren’t entirely wrong. “That’s Thomas Sanders. He’s our favorite youtuber,” Felicia explained. Nico nodded a little dumbfounded. “He’s a singer?” he guessed, though he knew he was more than that. But he was not ready to tell his nieces he’d met this man and was going on a date with him next week. “And an actor, and the nicest person alive!” Clara explained. “He lives in Florida and he is gay…” Félicia added not too subtle, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Stop teasing your uncle girls. Set the table. We’ll be eating soon.” Nico was relieved. The rest of the evening he struggled to pay attention to the conversations at the dinner table. His mind was absolute chaos “He serenaded us! Actually serenaded us!” Felix gushed dancing around unable to contain his elation. “And it does sound like he is somewhat successful in entertaining his audience. He was telling the truth it seems,” Ràmon allowed. Leon nodded, calming down significantly. Leon had been part of the deeper recesses of Nico’s mind for a long time. Until one day he was called by a panicked Carla who was hiding from bigots with her sister. Nico had hurried over and gotten them out. But he’d been so close to hitting one of those kids. It had been Alejo who, in his worry for the girls’ well-being, had managed to hold Leon back enough to allow Fabio to reason with him. His writings had taken a much angrier tone for a few days after. Ever since that day,  Nico was aware that he could get violent when angry and he’d been working on managing Leon without pushing him away. Like Alejo he was mostly overprotective of the others and Nico’s loved ones. He just jumped more on Alejo’s fight aspect than the flight part. “He was so nice!” Fabio gushed. “Does he really think all that about us?” Alejo wondered flustered. “It seems quite likely that he does,” Diego concluded. “Just as we have made some observations about him that may or may not be accurate,” he added, soothing Alejo’s worry a bit. Shifting him more to the excited side of his spectrum. “Well? Spill!” Marcia insisted when they found themselves alone on the patio after dinner. Nico sipped from his glass and didn’t look at his sister while he just spilled the truth. “I met a really cute guy at the mall this week, and we’re going out for lunch in two days.” Marcia barely contained her squealing. “Finally! Tell me everything!” she demanded. And just like that, his excitement at being able to gush about the whole meeting returned. Marcia was a good listener. She knew the story ended well but she acted like she actually thought he might miss his shot with his determination to get some work done and not to bother the mysterious stranger. When he got to Thomas’ confession she was vibrating with excitement. “He sounds so adorable!” Nico flushed. “Yeah… He’s an actor and singer…” “Ooooh, someone to sing your songs!” she exclaimed. “And his name is Thomas Sanders…” Maricia’s eyes widened as understanding dawned on her. “Now that explains the look on your face when you saw that video…Wait that was for you? If mama ever sees it then she’ll insist you marry him you know that right?” she laughed. So not only did she know of Thomas, she had seen the video in question. “Yeah… She probably will. Have you seen anything else of his?” “I try to be aware of what my kids are watching online. He has two channels and about 3,4 million ‘Fanders’ last I checked.” “Oh my god!!!!” Felix gushed. Overwhelmed by both the cute fandom name and the dazzling number of fans. “Definitely not a liar,” Ràmon breathed in relief. He had been reluctant to get his hopes up until now. He was cautious, wary of things that were too good to be true. Just like Alejo. But their anxious look out was, in his eyes at least, compromised on the subject due to his close tie to the butterflies clouding all their feelings and thoughts. Now however, it seemed that his biggest doubts were adressed, he felt free to look forwrad to the date like everyone else. “He is a good guy, going by his content. And he is really cute.” Nico chuckled. “Yeah he is,” he agreed.

When he got home he was actually planning to freak out a bit more and debate over whether or not to watch some video’s. If for no other reason than to just see him do something he loved. Was that stalkerish? Luckily his phone alerted him to a text. Thomas. It was a cute dog picture. Nico smiled. He did that sometimes. Sent him things just to make him smile. N: You are such a dork. TS: I refuse to apologize for that! TS: I can’t wait until our lunch date! Nico hesitated for a moment. But then he went all in. N: Missing my radiant presence that much? God that was cheesy. Was it too cheesy? He is not like this! Not usually. Or maybe he was and Thomas just brought it out of him. TS: OMG you saw!!!!? N: My nieces thought it would be funny to see how I’d react when a ‘stranger’ serenades me. TS: Fanders!? Oh my goodness that is amazing! TS: You weren’t bothered? I get that it might seem a bit weird. “He is so precious!!!!” Fabio squealed. “I know right? This is not healthy for us! It can’t be,” Félix exclaimed clutching his heart and leaning on Alejo for support. Who promptly stepped away and let him fall to the floor with a grin. “Not a couch,” he reminded his friend who was pouting for a bout two seconds before his excitement overpowered his annoyance. N: It was awesome, don’t worry. I was very flattered. Your singing voice is amazing. TS: Thanks. Should he ask? If Thomas says it’s okay then it’s fine right? N: Okay if I watch some more of your singing? There he asked. No backing out. TS: Of course! Fair warning, if you find vines, some are cringy and sometimes I play a straight man. Vines huh? Wow, that felt like ages ago. Thomas had mentioned his misleading complements when they talked. N: Okay. I’ll keep that in mind. Goodnight. TS: Goodnight. “Are we really doing this?” Alejo wondered as Nico typed in ‘Thomas Sanders Vines’ in the search bar of Youtube. One look at the results had Nico in stitches. “He’s such a goofball!” Fabio squealed clapping his hands as he saw Thomas’ smiling face on every thumbnail in various goofy situations. How was he supposed to choose? “Oooh! That one is him reacting!” Félix exclaimed pointing at a three year old video.  Nico nodded in agreement and clicked on the video. First this and then see if he could find some more videos of Thomas singing. He didn’t know it. But he was in for a wild ride.

I might write one more chapter, but then it’s over until Thomas posts his next video in three years. I want to stick to the canon as much as possible. You’ll hear from me if that changes though! Enjoy!

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[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 138

SUMMARY: Fergus goes into bat for Bóinne Rivière trying to alter her abeyance profile and after discussion with Operations, Madeline puts forward a plausible reason to support Fergus’ request.  The two leaders ponder what they are going to do about the mole, Colum Mackenzie and indeed Jamie and Claire.

Chapter 137 and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations  Sorry to say I am not on Ao3, but perhaps when I finish this story I will try and navigate how it works and how to post there.  

THANK YOU to everyone following this story.  I appreciate knowing that there are people who are enjoying what I have written each post, whether it be a like, comment or a reblog. Thank you so much for supporting Covert Operations.

CHAPTER 138

 “Thank you, Fergus, … I think I have a lot to discuss with Operations. You have been most thorough.”

Although Madeline’s reply had been a tacit order of dismissal, Fergus Claudel stood his ground. He only had one chance to put forward his case and swallowing the bullet he cleared his throat then uttered, “Ah … there is one other thing I would like to discuss with you both.”

“Really Mr Claudel … and what is that?”  “I inadvertently came across Bóinne Rivière’s reclassification status in my search.” This time Operations replied, remembering that Fergus had casually asked after the fate of the abeyance operatives when he’d went to discuss the Somalia mission. He recalled that Fergus had been talking to Murtagh and the person he’d mentioned earlier in Comm. and this was quite plausible as he had to access the nurse’s file in his search.

“I see. And?” “I would seriously like for you to reconsider her new mission profile given how she was crucial in providing the concrete Intel that linked Frank Wolverton-Randall to Colum. It provided the proof we needed that he was indeed the mole.”  Fergus watched his leaders trying to gauge their reaction to what he had just said. However, the raised brow of Operations gave him an uneasy feeling that Section’s leader was aware that he knew exactly what he was trying to do and why. “You can't protect her forever ... or him.” Fergus was thrown off kilter with this observation. “What do you mean?”  “You know what I mean. ... We know you tampered with her abeyance records. ... Don't start thinking with your heart. Section is not the place to do that.” Fergus immediately crumbled realising that what he had proposed was obviously in vain. It appeared that Operations and Madeline had already made up their minds about Bóinne and her usefulness to Section. He sighed. “Sorry.” “You're too valuable to us ... but we’ll think about what you have said. You may go.” Madeline’s reply was encouraging … they hadn’t completely closed the door on Bóinne’s re-classification. Fergus only hoped that he had done enough to help her and that his superiors wouldn’t hold it against him.

Perhaps he had also given them cause to rethink their decision to place her in abeyance. The medical nurse had been instrumental in connecting the dots to Frank Wolverton-Randall and just maybe this would be enough for them to reconsider their decision. Alternatively, perhaps he could find something else that would significantly help her cause if he only delved a little deeper into her file. Bóinne Rivière’s cancellation could cause more problems for Operations and Madeline than it would solve. Murtagh Fitzgibbons had been crucial in the retrieval mission; there was every chance that he may be needed again in some way in the future to trap Sun Yee Lok and his cohorts. If his beloved was cancelled, he didn’t know what Murtagh would do in his grief and the two leaders knew this only too well.  Like Madeline and Operations, the IT specialist had much to mull over in his mind. Their conversation was now obviously at an end so without even a slight backward glance; Fergus quietly left Madeline’s office.  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Section’s leader paced the floor of her office pondering the skulduggery of Colum’s monitoring in the Rising Dragons’ mission and more so for his insinuations that he was in any way responsible for the disappearance of Section One’s founder Letitia Chisholm. His face echoed his sour demeanour and if looks could kill, his nemesis would have been six feet under before his body was cold.  “What are we going to do about Bóinne Rivière?” Madeline asked watching Dougal pace back and forth once Fergus had left her office. Operations however, had little regard for the issue Fergus had raised about Murtagh’s girlfriend. He dismissed Madeline’s inquiry as if he would brush away a fly. To him, it was of little consequence for his mind was on more pressing issues. “Cancel her,” he barked without the slightest thought for what their IT specialist had told them. “I think you should reconsider that,” Madeline cajoled trying to soothe over this small problem before tackling the major one she knew Operations was thinking about. “Reconsider? You must be joking.”  Madeline continued her placating of the savage beast. “Fergus raised some valid points Dougal. Nurse Rivière had the opportunity to withhold the device but she didn't and it did give us the proof we were looking for.” Her words appeared to have hit the spot. Operations calmed down a little. He pondered what she’d said for a short while before responding with reluctance, “True.” So his second in command continued with her reasons while giving him time to reassess her status. “Details will eventually leak out into the ranks. Bóinne Rivière’s death would not be received well by Fitzgibbons or her colleagues in Med Lab. I'd rather deal with one underperforming Operative than rebellion by several. You know Murtagh … he can be cantankerous at the best of times. He would take her death hard. Fergus was right … Who knows how he would respond?” Her logical explanation had the desired effect. “Perhaps I might reconsider then … for the time being,” he added reluctantly in addendum. Turning towards Operations Madeline gave another opinion. “Good … I feel that killing Bóinne Rivière will not serve us well. We cancel her and Murtagh wouldn’t care if he died too. You remember his three-year review, don’t you?”  “Of course, … So, in your opinion he really would be willing to die?”  “Yes, I do.” “Then what? There must be some way to reassess her suitability to Section, but I’m sure you’ll think of something Madeline.” “I'm working on it. She will make a mistake eventually and then any problem with her status will take care of the nurse itself, but in the meantime, we have Murtagh Fitzgibbons where we need him.” Operations rubbed his chin in reflection of her statement, “Hmmm … and Fergus.”  He looked at Madeline as if to say it was a win-win for the time being given that the state of the Rising Dragons’ mission was in limbo at the moment. “Murtagh did perform well on the retrieval mission; we might indeed have to use him again.” “Yes, you just never know and if he is antagonistic towards us because of this woman’s death, it could be a huge problem. We can’t have Fitzgibbons being distracted or becoming recalcitrant if anything happened to his fiancée. It could set off a chain reaction mutiny with other operatives.” Operations thought for a moment, looked off into space, then reluctantly accepted Madeline's logic by nodding his head. “Very well … we’ll postpone our decision on her until the Rising Dragon’s mission is finalised.” “Yes … I agree. That is a sensible compromise … and then we can review her status if things change or improve.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Although what they had discussed went a small way in solving one of the problems they faced, nonetheless what Operations really wanted to discuss was the anathema to him … his older brother … Colum. Fergus’ Intel had been explosive.

To think that his brother was keeping tabs on their top operatives and the disappearance of Section One’s founder was inexcusable, but what were the reasons why.  Fergus had alluded to the disappearance of Letitia Chisholm as one reason, and it did worry him that he may find incriminating Intel on her vanishing without any trace, but were there others? Did he have a parallel profile on the triad members and had he done this for pure one-upmanship by using a mole to further his advantage at Centre and Mr Lambert? It galled him to think that Colum would try and do something so obvious to win favour at Centre.  Why the interest in Jamie and Claire’s success on the mission?  So many questions and as yet no concrete answers.

Operations’ hackles were heightened and his shell-shocked disposition was evident. Without doubt, you could have cut the atmosphere with a knife in Madeline’s office it seemed so tangible.  His voice was laced with contempt for Oversight’s leader and he couldn’t hide an escalating irate temper.

“This is treason! Colum has taken this too far this time Madeline. Any of our quarrels pale into insignificance with the implications of this treachery.”  Dougal’s demeanour at the thought of his brother’s unannounced visits to Section One to hear proceedings about the Rising Dragons’ mission rapidly changed until his face was a glaring red hue of rage. His mind backtracked over the times Oversight’s leader had visited.

Obviously, those times were just a ruse, to see where Section was in bringing the mission to its end game. Although Colum’s last visit was laced with concern for Jamie and Claire’s wellbeing his motives, no doubt, were to gauge if he could at last get the jump on Section in capturing the triad members with his own operatives. This seemed the most plausible reason given their rivalry. He and Madeline needed to get to the bottom of his brother’s skulduggery in order to answer these pressing questions and cover their backs if needs be.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Aware of what Operations’ thoughts might be, Madeline answered his statements with a dose of reality about what they had just heard from Fergus. “Colum wouldn’t have been able to do that without help. Fergus was right Dougal … it does all point to Frank Wolverton-Randall.” Her words brought him back to the present moment as Madeline continued. “I suspect that Colum has been piggy backing off Section One in order to capture Sun Yee Lok before we do. So, any Intel on how the mission was going was in his interests if he was to keep in front of the eight ball. Colum obviously wanted to know what Section One had on the triad leader in order to run a parallel sting on him before Jamie and Claire could bring him in.” “Precisely … I’m sure that’s why he visited so many times unannounced.” “He needed to know what progress we had made and if what Frank Wolverton-Randall had passed on to him was accurate before he was transferred.” “If he could get a jump on our Intel, and if he was to capture Sun Yee Lok, he would certainly claim all the glory for himself and Oversight and in so doing demonstrate incompetence in my leadership at Section One to ultimately undermine me.” “So it would seem.” “I repeat … He has gone too far this time Madeline. The depths to which he would sink to best us are reprehensible.” “Perhaps he is trying to discredit you in front of Mr. Lambert. He knows you have aspirations to be the leader of Oversight one day.” “He wants to hang on to power at all cost and doesn’t care who gets in his way. Colum has always been a self-serving bastard looking for any opportunity to further his interests and profile for the Head of Centre.” Madeline emphasised with her leader’s summation about Colum. “Obviously, but … if he is bragging to Mr Lambert about his monitoring of Jamie and Claire, then why? Does he think we are incapable of trusting our operatives to complete the capture of the triad leader successfully? Does he have plans to usurp us on the Rising Dragon’s mission? And why his data collecting on Letitia?”

“That … is another matter altogether Madeline. It would seem he would stop at nothing to discredit us and implicate us in her disappearance.” “Jamie and Claire’s downtime was the perfect opportunity for Colum to get a head start on Sun Yee Lok’s whereabouts if he wants to bring in the triad leader by his own operatives.” Madeline had hit a major nerve. “No wonder Colum was so adamant that they have two weeks … against my better judgement I might add,” he reiterated with scorn. “Point taken Dougal,” conceded Madeline, “Although I hate to say this, downtime was still necessary for Jamie and Claire’s recovery for them to be at their optimum.” “We don’t know that yet. Two weeks away from the mission could be vital in Colum trumping Section. That would be intolerable,” he replied pacing the floor of her office racking his brain as to how they could proceed with averting all of this. “Let’s hope that he hasn’t jumped the gun on us. I very much doubt he would have, given were the triad stood after the retrieval mission’s success.” Madeline’s logic made sense and Operations cooled his heels somewhat knowing that his second in command would have some plans of her own to beat his brother at his own game. “What are we going to do then?”  “First of all, we need damage control with Mr Lambert. Who knows what Colum has been telling him about the Rising Dragon’s mission?” “Yes … I agree.” “I’ll contact Centre with our status. I’m sure Mr Lambert would like a point of view from my perspective,” Madeline proposed with assurance. Section’s leader liked what he was hearing. “Go on.” “We’ll also be able to gauge if Colum has any leads on the Rising Dragons that we don’t have. We’ve come too far on the mission profiles to let him defeat us.” She looked at Operations intently. “We can fix this Dougal.” “How? What else do you have in mind?” “We’ll get Fergus to call in any informants in Hong Kong and see what they can come up with.” “Who?”  “John Grey for one. He works freelance and is inconspicuous in his movements. He has an overabundance of contacts he can utilise for us. He’s always come through before.” “Anyone else?” “Phil Jurgen is located in that area.” Operations shook his head. “No, I’m not totally convinced he is reliable … Grey is closer to the situation. Doesn’t he have interests in Hong Kong?” “Yes. You have a point. He moves in a wide range of circles. He’s bound to have heard something.” “That’s settled then.” “And besides … It may be better to rely on just one informant than risking Colum finding out that we are making enquiries about him.” “He’ll think he has had a two week window on us, but I’m sure John Grey may be able to shed more light on the situation in Hong Kong than what Colum knows.” “Tell Fergus to get on to it straight away then.” “Certainly.” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “Do you think this will work Madeline?” “I do,” was her confident reply. Section’s head strategist knew that the depth of his brother’s betrayal had cut deep for Dougal but if they acted expediently … they could best him before he turned the tables on them. Operations was still somewhat apprehensive. “It won't take long before Colum finds a way to get through to Mr. Lambert. And god knows what Intel he’ll have on the Rising Dragons. We have to reel him in before he does.” “We’ll trump him first. We'll use every available resource.” Happy with Madeline’s proposition Operations waited for what she had in mind. “I’m all ears.��

“We’re going to make Colum think that he has a heads up on Intel pertaining to the triad because of his mole. However, because he also has suspicions about you Dougal, we’ll have to change that.”  

“Brilliant …” His eyes suddenly became intense and he gave Madeline a piercing glare. “… but there is another option.” Knowing where he was heading, she was not at all happy with his proposal. “That's an option I'm not completely comfortable with.” Nevertheless Operations was adamant that his idea would get rid of Colum once and for all. “You know as well as I do. We push the button, make a hit on Colum and blame it elsewhere.” “This is not the time to get personal Dougal.” “It is to me. Colum has overstepped the line this time. He has to pay.” Madeline was uneasy with his plan realising the consequences were not entirely for the right reasons. “Of all the people on the planet to target for assassination, your brother is by far the most dangerous. This would be a last resort. It could backfire on us.” “Then we'll have to go about it very carefully, won't we … if … I repeat … if he persists in undermining Section on the Rising Dragons’ mission. I won’t tolerate it Madeline. I will not!”  Operations’ tirade put an end to any more discussion on the matter. To him it was over.  However, Madeline had the last word on the subject of Colum Mackenzie after all. “If it ever comes to that, we’ll have to bide our time for the right opportunity … but this is not the right time. It would be far too suspicious if it were to happen because of his interference in the Rising Dragons’ mission. The finger of blame would immediately be pointed at Section One and us. I would not contemplate assassination as the method of paying Colum back Dougal. There are other ways!” Although he heard what Madeline had to say in reply, he chose to ignore her and changed the subject. “And what about Frank Wolverton-Randall?”  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “I think we can arrange for him to return from the substation back to Section.” “Elaborate.”  

“We’ll say that we need his help in profiling, as our new Intel on the Rising Dragons will overload Fergus. Colum will certainly like that, as he’ll have his inside contact back in the thick of things especially if the order comes from Mr. Lambert for his return to Section One. Colum will be under the impression that having your enemies closer will work in his favour, but of course we’ll turn the tables on him and have Wolverton-Randall cancelled in due course.”

A wry smile crossed Operations’ face as Madeline outlined her strategy. “Excellent.”

“But, we can't do anything about Frank … just yet. Colum will be watching. His status can't be tampered with at the moment. The best we can do is to keep them both from knowing we're on to his subterfuge.”  “Agreed.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “And what are we going to do about Colum’s suspicion that I am responsible for Letitia’s disappearance?  If he finds out that is true all hell will break out.”

“There could be a way around it Dougal but we will need to play our cards close to our chest.”

“What do you propose?”

“I think we need to show Colum that we have had a major personal falling out.”

“Such as?”

“Sexual intimidation and coercion Dougal. It needs to be something that he will believe and if you are pressuring me for sex against my will then it would not be too farfetched that I would jump at the chance to get my own back at you.”

Dougal took a moment to ponder her suggestion. “Yes, that would work.”

“I’ll indicate that I am fed up with you using me for sex, so I’ll make a deal with Colum to make him think that I will betray you because of this. As payback, I’ll give him information about you and Letitia and he will give me something I want in exchange, say … the company Key File module for encrypting software. That will give me complete data access, control and protection in undermining you.”

“Go on …”

“We’ll initiate a set up to blackmail Colum when he meets with a courier that he thinks he can trust but in fact the result will be that he just exchanged the Key File for money.”

“Do you think that is believable and that he will not be suspicious?”

“Not if we use someone such as a known corrupt associate who thinks he will be exonerated for the exchange.”

“Who do you have in mind?”

“Lionel Brown.”

“Excellent.  He has always been a rogue intelligence officer who peddles Intel to terrorists and he is on the Pentagon’s Red List.”

“Indeed, he is. It will look like Colum was paying and cooperating with a known shady extremist and because of this we can blackmail him for anything we want.”

Operations gave his second in command a wry smile. “Madeline … I love the way you think.”

“Thank you, Dougal. However, Colum must not suspect we are pretending to fight and have sex. We will need to be convincing so that he will think that I would betray you because of a toxic and controlling relationship.”

“Oh, I can be very convincing Madeline as too can you,” he said with a wry smirk at the very thought of besting his brother and finally having him out of his hair.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“So … that just leaves Jamie and Claire.” “Hmmm?” Operations pondered before smiling at Madeline and removing his glasses. “They’ll have to return to Section of course in the next couple of days once we have put these measures in place.” The glee in his eyes was palatable. She returned his candour. “Yes ... I couldn’t agree with you more. However due to expediency I think we can forgo their Psyche Assessment in the interim. I will just make keen observations as to their mental acuity and physical attributes to continue the mission.  They’ll want to return to the mission profile if they know they have the best chance of capturing Jonathon Randall and Sun Yee Lok’s daughter. Jamie won’t want Colum or any of his operatives to bring in any person who was responsible for Claire’s atrocities … including the triad’s leader himself.” “Madeline you never cease to amaze me.” Satisfied that they had covered all bases, Operations’ dry wit raised its head. “Another day at the office?”  His second in command smiled in appreciation of his witticism. Operations turned to go, but then he thought of something else. “You said Jamie and Claire were off the radar and their trackers were down. How do you plan on contacting them?” “I have my ways.” “Good. Do it!” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued Friday 14th August

[kunstpause-archive]

FFXIV Write Prompt #1: Crux

Around her the battle sounds had morphed into one soothing blanket of background noise as Cassia gripped her book tightly. They had set into a sort of rhythm where she barely even watched the battlefield in front of her anymore. Every now and then she let the magic flow through her, rebuilding their defences and helping her friends take their enemies down, but her mind wasn’t really taking it all in anymore.

Every fight felt a little bit like the last, and Cassia knew there was little variation between them. And so her thoughts kept wandering. Into a very specific direction, back to Camp Dragonhead and to blue eyes behind silvery hair. 

“Cassia!”

The distressed sounding voice of her sister cut through the air, pulling Cassia out of her thoughts and her nose out of her book. There was an urgency in Adriene’s voice as she shouted,

“Please pay more attention, this could have gone south any moment!”

With a furrowed brow Cassia looked over the rim of her book, assessing the situation before her. All three of her friends were standing upright, still battle-ready but their opponents lay defeated on the ground at their feet.

“I fail to see the issue,” Cassia murmured. Next to Adriene, Saran was inspecting her bloody knives before she sheathed them with a shrug.

“The issue is that Nayan almost got knocked out!” Adriene said in that moment, a bit of leftover tension still in her voice. 

“I’m good,” Nayan said with a wide grin, shouldering his axe before taking a deep breath. “This was fun!”

Adriene shot him a look full of disbelief before turning back to Cassia. “Regardless, as our designated healer…”

“I’m not,” Cassia interrupted her sister, making Adriene pause in confusion.

“Huh?” her sister asked with a frown. “Not what?”

“A healer,” Cassia clarified. She had volunteered to take on a more supportive role when they had decided to breach the Stone Vigil without her cousin Layanna being there for their usual backup, but Cassia wouldn’t go so far as to think the could do the same things Lay did. When the other three gave her a skeptical look Cassia shrugged.

“I am really not,” she repeated before she turned slightly to point at the little fairy hovering behind her shoulder. “She is the healer, and she is doing an amazing job so no criticizing of Eos please!” There was a distinctively sharp undertone in her voice for a moment, making it clear that no one was allowed to say anything against their smallest companion. With another shrug Cassia added, “I am just here to calculate the shielding you guys need, though if you’d have gone along with the tactical plans I made beforehand…”

“Those would have taken us forever!” Adriene mumbled. Next to her, Saran nodded.

“I agree with Adriene actually, sorry Cass, the plan was good but we’d been at this for hours if we followed it.”

“That might very well be, but if we had stuck with it, we wouldn’t have fought a single enemy,” Cassia pointed out. 

Nayan let out a short burst of laughter. “And where would have been the fun in that?” he gripped the bloody hilt of his axe a bit tighter as to emphasise his willingness to jump right back into the chaos as he winked at her. “Besides, I never felt like I was in danger, I trust Cassia - and Eos for that matter.”

“For a while you did look like you were about to fall over any second,” Saran said plainly, and from the cuts and bruises on their friend, Cassia knew she did have a point after all.

“And I was just worried,” Adriene added, her voice a little softer than before. 

Before Cassia could say anything, Nayan brushed their worries aside with a wave of his hand. “Ah, don’t be! That is half the fun about this.”

Adriene frowned. “What is half the fun, almost getting knocked out or almost keeling over from exhaustion?”

Nayan’s eyes lit up with a spark. “Yes!” he said, enthusiastically.

Cassia chuckled lightly at the familiar eagerness in his eyes that sparked up whenever the talk was about battle. “How about a compromise, I’ll pay a bit more attention to Nayan’s well-being and I promise, I won’t let him go down and you two,” she nodded at Adriene and Saran, “you try not to stress out about his condition and just do your thing?”

When she closed the distance between them, stepping close to Nayan she murmured under her breath, “Don’t worry, I’ll throw an extra shield your way every now and then but I won't heal you up unnecessarily.” Cassia had realized quite a while ago that her friend was much happier if there was a little bit more risk involved in their activities.

“Awesome!” Nayan beamed back at her before setting out to check the next room for more resistance.

“I’m not the healer, Eos is,” Adriene said with a light, playfully teasing tone as she walked up next to her with a small grin and a shake of her head. “You know you can’t lie to me, right? I know you far too well, and something has you very distracted!”

And just like that Cassia’s mind was back on the original issue. A certain, kind, but very forward Elezen, who’s friendly banter had managed to thoroughly confuse her.

“Alright,” she mumbled, letting out a sigh of defeat. “It’s Lord Haurchefant,” Cassia admitted, not looking into Adriene’s eyes.

“Ha,” Saran perked up next to them. “I knew it, pay up Adriene!”

“Now wait a second,” Adriene interjected, “we don’t know the details yet, I might still win this!” 

Cassia looked back and forth between her sister and her friend with confusion spreading through her. “What is going on?”

“I bet Adriene that it would take no time for him to make a move and she said he’d play it slower! So, has he? Made a move beyond all this obvious flirting you two have been doing?”

Saran looked at her with an expectant grin and Cassia felt herself blush ever so slightly. “He might have invited me to dinner in his quarters, once we get back,” she said sheepishly.

Saran let out a small laugh while Adriene groaned. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited about that, but now I owe Saran 100 Gil…” A moment later she chuckled as well, though. “Ah, whatever, at least I know why you have trouble paying attention now,” she said, giving Cassia another wink. “So, what are you going to wear for the dinner?”

Cassia swallowed briefly as she recalled some of the more insinuating things both her and Lord Haurchefant had said leading up the the invitation, and she shook her head. “No idea yet. If I am really honest I am not sure I should go, this could complicate things after all.”

It was a flimsy excuse, and she knew it. She wanted to go, after all. It wasn’t like Cassia was a stranger to casual dalliances with all sorts of people. No. Her problem lay more with the fact that this didn’t feel entirely as casual as she was used to. The uncomfortable truth about the whole situation was, that Cassia had never before been tempted to start something with someone she genuinely liked and admired. Casual non-commitment she could deal with just fine, but this was certainly something else. And it posed a whole new set of problems.

“I think I should maybe…”

“The next room is clear,” Nayan shouted in that moment before his head appeared around the corner again. “And while I absolutely feel for you, maybe you could solve your dinner invitation problems after we take care of these annoying dragons.”

He sounded admonishing, but his eyes were full of humor and Cassia couldn’t help but laugh as she nodded and started moving again. “You’re right, it can probably wait!”

“We are still going to talk about this,” Adriene added as both her and Saran hurried along with the other two. “I don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t go at all!”

“Neither do I,” Saran added, sounding just as amused as Adriene did. 

Cassia sighed. At the far edge of the corridor they were hurrying through, she could see a shadow move. Another dragon. 

“So apparently we are talking about this now, after all,” she said with a sigh as she mentally went through the calculations she needed for a magicked barrier that would withstand at least the first round of fire thrown at them.

“Did you expect anything else?” Saran said with a grin as she briefly nudged her with her elbow. A moment later a shimmer settled over both her and Adriene as they disappeared from view, getting ready to surprise their target.

“I, for one, genuinely don’t see the problem,” Nayan said, swinging his axe around once more for good measure. “The man is hot, you obviously think so too. Go to dinner and hopefully enjoy more than the food!” And with those encouraging words, he gripped his axe tighter and broke into a run. 

Behind her, Eos fluttered nervously as Cassia threw the shields on her friends just in time before the fight broke out. Perhaps Nayan’s advice, in all its crude straightforwardness, was worth considering. And as they kept fighting, surrounded by more and more heretics and dragons, Cassia had to admit that if she could manage all that, then maybe having dinner with someone she actually liked, even if it was downright terrifying, might not be the problem she thought it was.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

04. The Apex Begins

AU Grace and Simon story. Takes place in the instance that they never got on the train, but crossed paths and became friends. But, for the sake of anyone who wants to view it as a series, I’ll number them. 2468 Words TW for violence, mental health discourse, unresolved trauma

NOTE: I wanted to sort of put the concept of “the apex” into the story without actually having a cult of children. I think that the circumstances of the train led to the philosophy going that far, but I still think that in real world situations, both of these characters would both 1. be prone to violence and 2. develop an us vs them mindset.

Previous

This was who they were together. Grace and Simon. She would venture into town, figure out some excuse, and he would meet her. They traveled the city together, taking whatever they wanted, because rich people sucked and if you owned a business, you were rich and deserved whatever happened. They got into scuffles with people who seemed to disrespect one or both of them. They instantly went into defensive mode over each other. 

Neither was afraid to resort to violence, because that’s just what you did for friends. You did anything that they needed. You did whatever you had to do. That was a good sign of survival of the fittest. That was the proof that you were better than everybody else - that you were the apex of human evolution. 

If you had to answer to people and were afraid to challenge them and fight for yourself and your loved ones - you were less than nothing. You were a “null.” Grace and Simon had decided that they would never be like that, and they didn’t have to be, because they had each other. He thought she was a true queen, and she trusted him with her life. 

She lost her driver over it. That was one of the things that she did hate, because he sort of had to suffer for her to be able to have this solid friendship with Simon, and she loved her driver and everything...

But he wasn’t Simon, so he could be sacrificed. He had to be. She had come back to the car with a huge plug of her hair missing and she laughed it off and said that she had gotten caught on something on the train and accidentally ripped it out. That was actually partially true. 

A woman on the train got herself into a fight with Grace. She was some college lady, making faces whenever Grace and Simon were talking too loud and practically snarling at Grace. Simon began to imitate her, and she sat there growing red in the face, obviously noticing them, but whenever Grace joined in to make fun of her as well, she got irate. They called each other names and Grace dared the woman to hit her, so... she was willing to sort of take responsibility for the fact that the woman came through on the dare and slapped her right in the face. Grace laughed, but also charged towards her...

The woman had taken a handful of her hair after an argument that escalated into violence, into her punching the woman in the gut while she clutched Grace’s hair trying to get her off, and it didn’t end until Simon had dragged the woman off of the train in a choke hold and threw her down on the terminal, ready to stomp the life out of her. The woman shielded herself with both of her arms, praying that this boy didn’t kick her. Fortunately for her, he didn’t. He wanted to and definitely would have after the way that she’d attacked Grace, but Grace stopped him. 

She pointed to a surveillance camera, with her other arm blocking her face from it.  She and Simon took off running, leaving an almost passed out (obnoxious) college student with a bruised midsection and holding a plug of hair in her fist. Simon stole Grace a mask not too long after. He had nothing to lose as far as he was concerned, but her family was well known in this place and she did worry about them knowing about this part of her life.

The driver had been going through months of covering for Grace, but this missing plug of hair - he had to take action. She’d told her lie and her mother stressed over all of her beautiful hair that they had to shave off, but she spun in that Grace was doing “the big chop” and going natural… Grace was kinda into that. She often had curly styles, but her hair wasn’t that type of curly, so work went into her look. Work that she hopefully wouldn’t have to go through for a while, now that she was starting her hair journey over. In her video chat with Simon afterwards, he thought it was an amazing look for her, so she quickly got over it.

The driver spoke with her parents, admitting that he allowed her to spend time with a friend in town sometimes, (he didn’t give them details about Simon specifically), but that he honestly thought that she might need some professional help, because she always came back banged up or covered in something suspicious. She’d freshen up and change in the car and clean out the backseat with extreme diligence and tell them a lie about where she had been. Well… This was not only news to them, but HAD to have been fake news.

They weren’t sure why he would LIE this way about their perfect child, but they knew he was, because there was no way Grace would EVER stand up against them. 

“I think that she may need some serious help.”

“You are the help,” Mrs. Monroe told him.

“I’m not the kind of help that Grace needs…” He started.

“You’re right,” Mr. Monroe told him. “You’re obviously useless. Expect your last paycheck in the mail. We no longer require your services.” Whenever Grace was sent for, she passed the driver on the way to the living room. He looked sad and wished her well as they crossed paths. “Grace!” Her father called. She jumped and ran into the room. “We’ve let your driver go.”

She gasped and placed her hand over her heart, “Oh my God! What happened, Daddy?”

Her mother spoke, “He suggested that you need help. We gathered that he was insinuating psychiatric help, from the tales he was spinning about your behavior in the city.” Grace froze and touched the spot where the missing plug of hair had been. That must have been it. The thing that was about to lose her everything that she had formed with Simon… “Of course, we know that he is mistaken. We didn’t raise someone that weak or lazy.” Grace’s eyes were large and damp. She nodded. “IF you needed help… that would be very unfortunate. A lot of work would be down the drain.”

Grace’s throat was dry as she said, “I’ve told you everything that happens whenever I go into town. I;m not sure why he would say that I’ve done anything wrong. I would never embarrass you.”

Both of her parents advanced on her and she was frozen still, unsure of what would happen next. They both gave her a hug and told her that was the perfect response. “Imagine! Our daughter needing help, aside from the likes of the staff? I never thought that I would ever hear something so ridiculous,” her mother said, then quickly grabbed her by the chin harder than she knew was out of love and the threatening look in her eyes confirmed that much as she said, through the teeth of her smile, “And we’d better not ever hear such a thing about you again.” She nodded, terrified. 

Mrs. Monroe let go of her face and Mr. Monroe simply gave her a look, the look that told her he knew that she was lying and he was disappointed in her. At least he wasn’t saying so. But, Grace was both relieved and shaken up. 

So, they gave Grace a new driver, and Grace explained to him straight out of the gate the way it was going to work for them to function and him to keep his job. He was younger than her last driver, and didn’t mind letting her sneak off and enjoy herself. Her parents were total hardasses,so he understood her desire to get some time away sometimes. Plus, he had no idea the kinds of things she got up to whenever she left the vehicle. He didn’t know that the last driver was absolutely right and that she probably did seriously need some help. Unfortunately, she didn’t know it either. She just knew that she had to be more careful.

A mask helped, and because she had the body of a dancer, some counter culture street wear and a shaved head, people often seemed to think that there were two boys terrorizing them. Simon shaved the back of his head in solidarity, but she thought he did it to look “even more broody.”

Any time that Grace and Simon engaged with someone in conflict, Simon had a habit of taking something off of them and giving it to Grace. Her collection was getting pretty big. She kept all of the trinkets in her hope chest. The thing was just symbolic, anyways. She was never gonna get married and she wasn’t sure that her parents honestly expected her to.

Compromise only went so far with the Monroes. Grace had become brave enough to make suggestions in her sweetest voice without paralyzing fear, but she definitely still felt afraid whenever she did speak up. Being 14 and old enough to go to high school, she REALLY wanted to finally be able to go be with other kids! She wanted to meet other people and find out things that they had in common or whatever else teenagers did when they got to high school. And, fortunately for her, her father was sure that another recession was coming and didn’t mind saving a little on private instructors… 

HOWEVER, she definitely wasn’t going to be allowed to go to Simon’s school (the school she’d suggested). So, they enrolled her into the most prestigious private school in town. 

Whenever she found out that she would be going, she asked Simon if it was at all possible for him to go to that school too. After two full minutes of him laughing in her face, to the point of belly ache and tears, he cleared his throat, wiped his eyes and reminded her, “That place is for rich kids.”

It just so happened that she had read about this school and there were multiple programs in which less fortunate students could earn scholarships. She had known Simon for almost 4 years and had seen him be very good at many things that required mental intelligence and/or technical skill. He was good at creating things, building stuff, writing, photography.... There had to be something he was good enough at to gain a scholarship.

“There is literally nothing that I’m good enough at to get a scholarship into a school like that,” he said, while she was pacing and talking to herself about all of the things that Simon was great at, going down the list out loud to come up with a plan to get him into school with her. He rolled his eyes and went back to typing on the hand me down laptop that he’d gotten from her whenever her parents bought her a new one. Simon really appreciated that Grace thought so highly of his skills, but he knew that the school wouldn’t share her affinity for him or any of his skills. 

She sputtered air through her lips - a habit that she’d had for many years, and then she looked up and said, “Write an essay about your family.” He tensed up, frowned and stared at her. 

Grace smiled, put her hands behind her back and sauntered over to him. “It sounds painful right now, BUT this will not only give you a chance to get out some of the stress that you hold inside, keeping it all in, it’ll ALSO be just what those stuffy adults on the board need to have some mercy on us and let you into the school. I’ve read somewhere that it doesn’t help to hold things in. Think of it as... journaling, but for your future!”

Simon did journaling, sort of. He definitely wrote about his life, but translated it into fantasy, outside of his manifesto, of course. But, that wasn’t the point right now. “You think that telling people that I accidentally let my baby sister die, which caused my mom to become so angry at me that she devolved into this abusive and suicidal phantom that lives in our house, and made my father neglect me and her, up until he reenlisted in the military and left me to take care of somebody who absolutely hates me - is a good thing to tell a place with an upstanding reputation?”

She winced with every word he said. She had been around for most of that and had been the only person to see him through most of it. But, now, she was telling him exactly this. “I think that this kind of stuff, while atrocious and painful to US, is like a drug to them. They wanna take you and say, look how I’ve fixed this up. They want to take your pain and make it into a story that they can brag about.”

“And why would I want them to do that?” he asked, shivering at the thought of anybody else but her and Samantha to ever learn about his family issues. Journaling was one thing, but this was something different and it felt extremely uncomfortable.

“It’s not that you would want to do it. It’s that it would be a way for us to be in school together,” she said. 

“It’s asking a lot, Grace.” He set the laptop aside and shook his head, “I wanna be with you. You know I do, but it’s really asking a lot.”

She lowered her head, nodded, and flopped down on the seat next to him on her cushioned reading bench. “You’re right. I’m so sorry that I suggested that. I guess desperation made me weird. I don’t see the point of even going to school and meeting other people if I don’t have you there with me. You’re kinda like the other side of me that my parents never let bloom. Me in a new school surrounded by all those strangers without you… That’s gonna be like me navigating life chopped in half. I know that I can't be my best there without “us.” I guess I panicked and didn’t think about what it would mean for you to have to think about the way your adults have done you.” She clasped her hands together, sputtered out some air, and rested her lips against them, silently praying for some type of plan or something.

He didn’t like the condition she was in and now he felt guilty. “Okay,” Simon said. He reached over and covered her clasped hands with one of his own and pulled her into a hug with his other arm. “I’ll do it.” He was shivering and she wanted to tell him not to worry about it, that it was too much to ask and if he didn’t want to, not to do it for her benefit. But, she was 14, and very selfish. So, all she did was smile at him and push some strands of hair from his face. Their faces were really close, but she didn’t really ever think about stuff like that. There wasn’t any “personal space” between them. He was her other half and that meant his personal space was simply an extension of hers. He had other thoughts about it, but he certainly wasn’t going to say so.

He blushed and grabbed his laptop. “I’m gonna work on it at home, though…” They told each other everything, but he didn’t necessarily trust himself to be presentable as he relived some of these things about his life. He didn’t want her to see him crying or having a tantrum or tugging at his own hair to redirect his pain. He wanted privacy to dissect his heart this way. He wanted discretion. He didn’t want to look weak. You couldn’t extend to the apex by being weak.

She was looking in the mirror and admiring her face, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil he was facing by agreeing to this. He understood. He often admired her face too, though he didn’t know how to tell her that the rest of them were a little luckier… She looked even prettier in front of you than she did in her reflection. She smiled at him and squinted her eyes, “What?”

“Nothing! I’m going now. Bye.”

“Until later!” she cheered. She had no idea how hard his night was about to be. She didn’t even ask… but he also didn’t tell her...

Next

[bellemorte180]

Addressing some negative comments I received on Wanderlust

So, the overall comments I have received on Wanderlust have been positive and amazing. The support this story has gotten is overwhelming and has taken me by surprise. I want to thank everyone who has stuck by me, read my story and loved it as much as I have. 

With that being said, obviously the story is not going to be for everyone; and that’s okay. Not everyone is going to want to read a murder mystery about a serial killer and the romance that blossoms between a federal agent and a witness.

That’s not everyone’s cut of tea and that’s okay.

I’m saying this because I got two comments on the story today that are kind of negative. While I’m not expecting everyone to love and rave about my story, I want to address those two comments. The first one I can kind of see where you’re coming from while the second I 100% disagree with. (I’ll leave the comments up on A03-chapter nine). While they are not the first negative comments I’ve gotten, they are two that are kind of bothersom.

The first one starts by quoting a paragraph that in chapter ten about Marcel and Rebekah’s relationship- more so their breakup. The rest of the comment goes as followed.

When Marcel asks Rebekah to move, it makes sense. When Rebekah asks Marcel to move she is expecting everyone to drop everything for her. When Marcel refuses to move, he is just being a devoted agent. When Rebekah refuses to move, she probably doesn't have any reason, she is just being difficult. Really, Klaus? Her reasons are not serious and valid, you will just assume they must be irrelevant? While Marcel's choices are just and reasonable? Wow.

Btw, Klaus himself says Rebekah was refused, so she seemingly asked about possibly getting a job in D.C.

Klaus really needs to stop being so dismissive and glaringly patronizing towards his sister. It's pretty obvious and disgusting of him.

Like I said, I can see where you’re coming from. Yes, Klaus kind of is rude to his sister in regard to his breakup with Marcel. The whole argument that Klaus is patronizing to his sister….well, yeah. He is. It’s part of his character, not the best part I’ll admit, but that is kind of one of his negative traits. That is how he is in the show too, so it is not something that comes out of no where.

Also, he isn’t patronizing towards his sister because she is female (which is what I’m assuming is meant from the comment) but because she is his sister. Siblings do this. I have three siblings and trust me when I tell you, we say the rudest and meanest things to one another all the time, but if someone else tried to talk crap on one of my siblings…no I’m coming for you.

Rebekah is spoiled and bratty. It is part of her character in the TVD and TO! And I imagined that the Rebekah in this story would be very much the same way. Klaus really only heard Marcel’s side of the breakup, and knowing how Rebekah is, he probably just assumed that Rebekah was being stubborn and not willing to compromise without really talking to her about it.

Was it a shitty thing of him to make such an assumption? Yeah, it was; but it stems from years of knowing his sister and how she is as a person. I think it’s a very in character thing for Klaus to do, both underestimating Rebekah and jumping to conclusions without listening to the other side first; especially when it comes to his siblings. I’m not going to remove Klaus’s flaws in this story and make him out to be the most ideal version of himself.

So yes, Klaus is patronizing towards ALL of his siblings….because honestly, that’s what siblings do. The part about it being disgusting makes me wonder if A) you’re an only child-(nothing wrong with that), but it tells me you don’t understand the dynamics of siblings and B) you don’t have an understanding of Klaus as a character.

Now the next comment….boy this one kind of has me very annoyed; not because it’s a negative comment but what is being insinuated or how I am taking it just kind of feels like a really hard slap in the face.

First things first, I 100% believe that police brutality and corruption is a MASSIVE problem that needs to be sorted out. I think that the use of brutal force by a police officer that results in injury or death of another person is disgusting.

I support the BLM and have zero patients with anyone who believes that police officers have the right to harm anyone in such a manner.

Now: onto the comment.

Klaus should have been taken off the case a few chapters ago. Vincent keeping him on makes no sense and there is no justification for it. There is a reason you don’t get involved with a witness on an ongoing case and Klaus did get involved. He should be absolutely off the case, there is no place for the police or FBI to abuse their power.

Okay, before we get to that last line…I’ll address the first half of the comment.

Yes. Klaus got involved with Caroline. It’s a Klaroline Fanfiction and that’s the point. As far as him being removed….yes. He should have. Vincent talks about that but decides against it because he is weighing Klaus fucking up against the potential for more loss of life.

Does he take Klaus off the case, when he knows the most about it, and re-interview all witness, try and learn the case from the inside out all the while there is a serial killer out there who might kill more people? Or, does he keep Klaus on the case in order to use not only the relationships he has built but the knowledge and understanding of the case in order to save time and potentially save lives?

Vincent went with option B. Was it the right choice? Probably not. It will be a bureaucratic nightmare; which Vincent already knows and understands; but if that means saving someone’s life in the long run…oh well.

Yes. Klaus getting involved with Caroline is a BAD move. It is something that I’ve mentioned time and time again in this story, Klaus should not get involved with Caroline because of her involvement in this case…..but he does anyway; because he is a human and sometimes people make bad decisions.

Now, onto the part that really bothers me.

there is no place for the police or FBI to abuse their power.

I do not understand how two consenting adults having sex is an abuse of power? Klaus is not forcing her to do anything Caroline does not want. He is not using his position of authority to convince her to sleep with him. Klaus is not taking advantage of Caroline in order to gain something or demanding sex in return for something Caroline needs.

Klaus sleeps with Caroline because he is falling in love with her.

When they have sex, it is not because Klaus is an FBI agent and Caroline is a witness; they had sex because they have feelings for one another. They care for one another and needed comfort; which they found in each other’s arms.

Was it a stupid thing to do? Absolutely; but again, Klaus and Caroline are human and sometimes humans make bad decisions…and without giving spoilers, there are unforeseen consequences that occur in the story that are a result of Klaus and Caroline having sex.

What bothers me is in the comment, or at least how I am taking it, is the comparison to two adults having consensual sex to police brutality and abuse of power. In today’s political climate, that is not something I am going to take lightly with my writing.

I do not condone, or support police brutality and I would not write something that would justify such abuse.

At all.

To sum it up, Klaus is a flawed character with negative traits. I’m not going to write a rose-colored glasses version of him. I do not like Mary-Sue or knight in shining armor type characters, and removing the patronizing and bad decision making part of Klaus would pretty much being doing so. My characters will have flaws and make bad decisions.

Wanderlust is a fanfiction. Maybe it is not everyone’s choice of enjoyment and that is fine. I’ve seen lately, and not just on my fic, but people leaving comments that are either rude or meant to be “constructive criticism”. Fanfiction is a hobby that is meant to be enjoyed and distract people from their own lives for a short while. Don’t try and tear it down and twist it to be something it is not. If you don’t like Wanderlust or Klaroline or anything else, that’s fine…but don’t try and insult those who do.

[mobius-prime]

225. Sonic the Hedgehog #157

(Unnamed Story)

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Ron Lim Colors: Jason Jensen

"Unnamed Story? But Nala," I can hear you say, "surely there's been a mistake! They wouldn't have just neglected entirely to put the name of the story in! You must have missed it somewhere!" Well, I reply, I didn't miss a thing! Yes, for whatever reason, somehow this story ended up nameless. It's not a case of the story's title only appearing halfway through the issue - this initial bit is definitely a separate story from the one that comes after it, with a separate credits box and everything. I suppose it's nothing more than a minor error though, so we might as well get into it.

Shadow is still on the hunt for the meaning of life - ain't we all, buddy - and has tracked down his next location of interest, namely… Prison Island. Yeah - I'm just as surprised as you - it's not blown up at all, apparently still totally intact. Just another case of why they shouldn't have left out the adaption of Sonic Adventure 2 if you ask me - there're clearly so many differences between how it went down in the game vs. the comics, and yet none of it is ever properly addressed. Shadow makes his way into the complex, punching a giant hole through the wall to gain entry when he doesn't immediately find a nearby door (yeah, sounds about right), but is brought up short by the unexpected sound of voices ahead.

I mean… again, wouldn't you have already gone over all of this during the events of SA2? You know, the game where the final chapter is literally all about exactly this? *sigh* There are just so many details missing here, that Shadow's entire character arc ultimately fails to make any real sense. Half the stuff he should already know given his lack of amnesia, and important details are missing all over the place. Anyway, as you can see Metal Sonic is there apparently listening to the broadcast of Gerald's execution, and leaps forward to attack Shadow when he sees him. Shadow randomly finds a hand-cannon-type weapon nearby, and briefly considers using it to end the fight early before deciding that fighting hand to hand is more fun, tossing it aside and leaping into the fray. Metal Sonic explains that it's yet another new model, rebuilt after the last one was destroyed by Shadow - and it's been upgraded to be smarter too, something it demonstrates quite well by freezing Shadow's shoes in some convenient liquid nitrogen from a pipe nearby followed by blasting him with the very same hand cannon he discarded a moment ago. The resulting explosion is massive and knocks the both of them clean out. Great job, Shadow!

Well hello again, M! I'm sure you're not up to anything nefarious with your two new hedgehog ragdolls…

System Shutdown

Writer: Ken Penders Pencils: Ron Lim Colors: Jason Jensen

Poor Eggman just can't catch a break lately. The ordinary stress of being human has already been getting to him, and what's more, now he has to deal with being woken up abruptly by a blaring alarm sounding all throughout his base, causing him to groggily drag his feet through the hallways trying to tell it to stop. He finds himself waking up a bit more, however, when he reaches his main scheming room only to find a threat printed on the monitor, warning him that at exactly midnight tomorrow he'll be undergoing the title of this story! How suspicious… Eggman gets A.D.A.M. to silence the alarms and begins going over the possible suspects with his creation, trying to figure out who might be trying to kill him this time. Meanwhile, in Knothole, Sonic is engaged in a much softer and more contemplative activity.

Aww, poor Sonic. He and Sally have been so distant lately, and he's not the type to really show his emotions outwardly, at least not the negative ones. It's obvious he's been hurting a lot lately, and it seems that he's found some comfort in practicing his guitar skills alone at night. Eggman and A.D.A.M. continue to discuss their predicament through the night, but ultimately can't come to any conclusion about who the threat might be coming from, so Eggman decides to make a daring and bold move - namely, taking an egg pod straight to Knothole to show up in person! It's so shocking to everyone that when he emerges from the pod in plain view of the populace, no one even steps forward to confront him. Tails wants to, and argues that the fact that he's here is reason enough to attack, but Rotor warns him back, telling him that since Eggman hasn't made any threatening moves yet they'll treat him the same as any other guest for now, something Tails isn't at all on board with. And frankly, Rotor, I'm with Tails! Are you crazy? This is a global dictator, a terrorist, a mass murderer, someone who runs goddamn slave labor camps for those who oppose him! You'd think they'd jump at the chance to capture the very being who's caused them so much grief! Obviously, Sonic himself is ready to rumble, and tries to rush out the door of his house as soon as he sees the pod floating overhead, but his mother, unaware of the commotion, forces him to sit down to breakfast as he frantically tries to explain. He gives up on arguing and shoves pancakes down his throat at light speed, runs to the door… and finds Eggman staring straight down at him on the threshold. Naturally, he's not cool with this surprise at all, and immediately leaps in to attack. However, Eggman moves surprisingly quickly for someone his age, dodging Sonic's moves and even flinging him aside with ease. Sonic quickly realizes this can't be the real Eggman after all, but some kind of new toy that merely looks like him, and manages to smash something internally that breaks the illusion.

Sonic and his parents all basically give Eggman the "are you freaking kidding me" stare, and he explains that since he has no idea who's threatening him, and the only other consistent threat to his rule over the years has been Sonic, he's hoping to pit Sonic against his new enemy to save his own skin. Sonic is less than enthused about being used this way, but Eggman insinuates that he might be able to find a way to deroboticize Jules if Sonic agrees to help, and ultimately that's something Sonic can't ignore. And so, he and Rotor find themselves flying back to New Megaopolis in the egg pod, with Rotor's intentions mostly being to investigate this threat and see if it's something they need to be worried about. When they arrive, we finally get our first hint at who exactly might be behind this. Remember Anonymous? It was only mentioned the one time, when whoever it was mysteriously managed to reroboticize the Fearsome Foursome and others when even Eggman himself couldn't figure it out. Eggman tries to explain this to the others, but before he can even get the first few words out a loud stomping from down another corridor distracts them. Sonic and Rotor immediately assume they've been betrayed, but Eggman nervously swears up and down that he too has no idea what's happening. Suddenly the door smashes open to reveal M, who seems downright hostile to her "father," even slapping Rotor out of the way to get to him. Sonic tries to fight her, dodging her laser vision, but she knocks both him and Rotor out, leaving her to threaten Eggman in peace. It seems that somehow, her systems have been compromised, and now she's here to punish him for his "crimes against the Kingdom of Acorn…" with the help of an army of Metal Sonics!

How fascinating. After all, clearly the kingdom didn't send these after him… so where the hell is all this coming from? Who is Anonymous, anyway?

[thewhiterabbit42]

The Other Side

Pairings: AU!Gabriel x AU!Reader

Summary: Survival wasn’t all there was to life in the apocalypse, and you were lucky enough to understand this.

Word Count: 5628

Tags/Warnings: smut, oral sex, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, edging, friends with benefits, sleeping with the enemy, secret / forbidden affair

Written for: Anon - kiss request - tripping over objects / furniture and @spnkinkbingo     

Square Filled:  Biting

You hated using the tunnels.  They always felt cold, unnaturally so, and smelled the way you imagined a tomb would: damp, earthy, filled with stagnant air and the ever present possibility of entrapment.  It wasn’t that you were claustrophobic, so much as you really disliked the idea of being put beneath the ground.  Especially alone.  

They were the only way to get in and out of the colony unnoticed, however, and discretion was key.  Mostly because Bobby might blow a gasket if he knew just how often you left on your own, not to mention the aneurysm he'd get when he found out the reason behind it.

Thankfully, the passageway you needed was short, and before you knew it, a fresh breeze was once again nipping at your cheeks.  The barest whisper of something trickled across your senses as your feet guided you down the path, causing the cool night air to fill your lungs at a faster rate.  

Your pulse lost its steady rhythm, and you stopped dead in your tracks.  Your head tilted slightly, your instincts kicking into overdrive, but your hand never drew the blade on which it rested.  You were far from alarmed, even as the rustle of wings sounded directly behind you.  

“You know, if I was one of my brothers, you’d be dead right now…”

“You know, if I was anyone else, you’d spend the rest of your morning in the principal's office for misuse of emergency exits.”

The early morning sun blinded you, making it impossible to see the figure waiting for you just outside the tunnel doors.  Exhaustion clung to your mind, preventing the familiar voice from registering.  You whirled, unsheathing your blade, your muscles readying to strike.  

Recognition override your adrenaline at the sight of your best friend’s face.  

“Jesus, Wes!” You clutched the weapon to your chest, as if that would calm the frantic beating of your heart.  “That’s a good way to get yourself stabbed.”

“Is that anyway to greet someone bearing gifts?”  He asked, immediately holding up an old, faded travel mug.  You pursed your lips, tucking away your blade as you tried to even out your breathing.  You were relieved he was the one catching you sneaking back in over the fact he’d prepared a peace offering.  

Your eyes flicked down, curiosity brimming.    “I suppose it would be awfully ungrateful not to accept.”  Wryness lifted both your tone and the corner of your mouth as you took the mug from his hands.

“If I were you, I’d drink up.  Bobby’s been waiting for you since dawn.”  

Shit.  You’d forgotten you’d asked to meet with him.  

You glanced over to find an odd look on your friend’s face.  

“What?” You resisted the urge to glance down the front of you and make sure nothing was compromised.  You continued to hold his stare, noticing there was something different about it, something you were too tired to tease out.

There was more to Gabriel’s presence tonight.  More tension, perhaps.  More energy.  Or maybe there was just more of him.  It carried over into his touch, that something extra feeling awfully possessive as he grabbed you by the waist.  

“Since I know you’re not stupid, I can only assume you either have something terribly wrong with your sense of self-preservation, or maybe, just maybe, you somehow knew it was me...”

It wasn’t quite suspicion that colored his tone, but you also wouldn’t call it concern.  What was concerning to you, however, was how guarded he was. It was as if something was brewing inside him, something that was strong enough to churn everything he kept buried up toward the surface.  

“I’m having a torrid love affair with my mortal enemy…which do you think it is?” You said dryly, hoping some humor might help diffuse whatever was going on.

“Hmmmm.”  He sounded less than convinced, but as his hands slipped beneath your jacket, his focus shifted.  Fingertips teased tiny circles along your skin, sending small sparks of excitement through your system.  

You held your breath, concentrating on him and only him; the feel of his touch, the heat of his chest on your back, the way he smelled of different air and clean rain, suggesting he had come from someplace much further away.  He was your escape, and you wanted nothing more than to become lost in him.  

You felt yourself slipping away as he traced the tip of his nose down behind your ear, his breath unfurling warmly against the shell of it.  

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” he ordered.  You were tempted to make a remark, but that little extra edge to him had you doing what you were told.  He placed something small and square on top of your tongue, and it only took a moment for a delectable combination of sugar and cocoa to soar across your taste buds.

“Oh —”

“— God, this - is this…” You stared at Wesley, wide-eyed.  “Where the hell did you find whiskey?”  The look you pinned him with really said who did you have to kill for this?

“Thought you’d like that,” he grinned, patting you on the shoulder before passing you.  You stared at his back a few seconds, your brain unable to comprehend the magnitude of his gift.  It took a few moments to recover, and you were thankful he was in front of you as you awkwardly shuffled to catch up.

Your moan was as decadent as the long lost flavor spreading inside your mouth.

“... you like that?”  He murmured, nuzzling along the side of your neck as he allowed you time to savor the surprise.   

You couldn’t remember the last time you had real chocolate.  Candy, sweets, anything without real nutritional value was overlooked once the fighting began.  Then, once everyone realized this was really the end, treats became so uncommon they surpassed the value of gold and silver.  In some places, they had become the only valuable piece of currency.

Now they were as rare as toilet paper, and you couldn’t believe the things people were willing to do for a chocolate bar.

“What would you do for one?”  Insinuation danced through his tone, and you finally turned around to greet him properly.  What you saw, however, had you stilling.  

Gabriel’s eyes glimmered in a kaleidoscope of sentiments and colors.  Greens and golds vied for dominance against a backdrop of heat.  He was beautiful.  Breathtaking.  Perhaps one of the few truly magnificent things left in this world.  

And for whatever reason, he found you deserving of his time.  

“I can’t - this is too much,” you insisted, holding the cup back up to him.  “I don’t deserve this.”

Wes might have been your closest friend, but things like this went beyond bestie status.  If anything, you should have been procuring him impossible items for looking out for you.

Especially when he had to know whatever you were doing outside the colony was at least seven shades of questionable if not outright forbidden.  

He glanced sideways at you, and your brows pulled together beneath his scrutiny.  You still weren’t able to get a pulse on him, which was strange.  Normally, you could both tell where each others’ heads were at.

“Oh, don’t worry, there are strings attached,” he informed you.  “You’d think if we took anything from the military, it’s that the whole don’t ask, don’t tell method doesn’t really work worth shit.”

You footsteps froze, your entire system lurching to a stop with them.  “Wesley…” 

You didn’t want to lie to him.  You weren’t certain you could after all you’d been through together, but most of all, you didn’t want him to share the burden of your secrets.

As if sensing the weight behind things, his hands shot up in surrender.  “You don’t have to tell me.  In fact, the less I know right now, the better.”

It wasn’t hard to read between the lines.  He was catching flak about you.  Then again, when wasn’t he?

“You just need to promise me you’ll come back.”  He placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing lightly.  The contact combined with a stare that was far more direct than usual had you floundering.  

Unsure of what to do with his concern, you went straight to your family's specialty.

“If bribery of this caliber doesn’t convince me to, nothing will.”  You slipped your arm through his,  tugging him away from the main path and diverting your course toward a secluded hill that ran along the edge of the colony.  

You never knew how to handle these moments.  It was never easy seeing Gabriel for what he was.  It only reminded you how completely different you were.  

He was infinite, whereas you were nothing, an insignificant speck on the cosmic timeline that would eventually fade away.  You never felt worthy, even if it only came down to him needing a body with which to find pleasure.    

His eyes suddenly narrowed, and your forehead wrinkled down the center.  It wasn’t until you blinked that you realized what the problem was.  A drop of moisture slipped past the confines of your lashes, slowly trickling down your cheek.  

You didn’t understand how he could move you to such emotions so quickly when you spent most of your days struggling just to feel.  It was just another bewildering piece to the enigma that was Gabriel.  

“What have I told you about that?” He chided, a juxtaposition of hard and soft forming between his disapproving look and the gentle way he brushed away the streak with his knuckles.  

“What have I told you about going AWOL?”  Bobby scolded, not bothering to turn around from his place at the edge of the overlook.  You moved next to him, taking a large swallow from your mug as you avoided the cantankerous side-eye he sent you.  

No wonder Wes had opted to wait for you at the bottom of the hill.  There was more bear than man present this morning.  

You knew better than to jump straight into anything when Bobby was like this, and you took some time to admire the view of the colony.  Everything seemed ordinary on the surface.  People ambled through the center, going about their business.  The previous bustle had slowed, and the bodies weaving in and out of the structures took on an ambling, weighted shuffle.

His stare eventually settled on you, lips pulling thin with appraisal.  “You look like this is the last place you need to be.”  

“I’m fine.”  It was an automatic answer, a mistake, one you didn’t realize until his gaze intensified.  “I didn’t get much sleep.”

You knew it was better to give him something rather than stonewall him, and you hoped the amendment was enough to appease him.

“We have everything we need for it and then some: beds, linens, walls, protection… and yet it always seems to be one of the things shortest in supply.”  He paused, his eyes scanning the grounds some more before he continued.  “You still haven’t said where you were.”

You burst through the door to the supply shed, wincing as a thunderous crack echoed through the valley.  It was the third time this year you’d damaged something.  Bobby was going to be so pissed.

“Gabri-mmph,” his lips smothered yours, cutting off your protest.  

Shhh you heard his voice in your mind.  You want to alert the whole neighborhood we’re out here?

His mouth released yours, allowing you a brief reprieve for your burning lungs.  An infuriating smile pressing against your skin as he teased his way down along your collarbone.  His hands fisted the sides of your shirt, and you wished you’d remembered to fix the zipper on your jacket.  The last thing you needed was to have to explain why you were traipsing around at the end of winter missing vital layers.  Again.  

“Fuck you,” you breathed, your fingers weaving through his long, wavy strands of hair.  When he lunged for your throat, hungrily devouring your skin with teeth and tongue, you tugged in an attempt to keep him focused.   

An amused, albeit dark, chuckle rumbled in the back of his throat.  “That’s the plan, sweets.”

He captured your lips again, reigning in his ardor as he nudged you back through the small building.  You stumbled over piles of wood, scrap metal, broken pieces of furniture that might yet still serve a purpose, and you had to cling to him just to remain upright.   

Your luck eventually ran out, and your foot finally hit something that refused to give, sending you tumbling backwards so quickly even he wasn’t able to stop it.  Pain flared along your spine, and once your surprise wore off you realized you’d fallen against an old bookcase.

It was as good a spot as any.  Gabriel shrugged out of his jacket before running his hands beneath yours and pushing it over your shoulders.  You let it drop to the ground, eyes riveted as he tugged his shirt over his head.  His skin looked flawless in the moonlight filtering in through the windows, your gaze trailing up his lean, defined frame to the tousled, tawny locks hanging down around his face.  

Perfection you thought, and the air left the room in a sudden rush.  

“I needed some air,”   It wasn’t a total lie.  It just wasn’t the only thing you had needed.  

Strike two Bobby’s face said as he gave you a long look.  

“Different air?” He asked skeptically.  You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, doing your best to ignore the way he stared.  You knew he didn’t have a clue about anything, or else he’d be confronting you.

“I just…”  You fumbled for a better explanation, one that didn’t cross the careful lines you were trying to maintain between keeping him in the dark and outright lying to him.  The latter didn’t sit well with you, but you had nothing else to offer him this morning.  

Except maybe some of your whiskey, and there was no way that was happening.  

“... needed some air,” you repeated, taking another sip and finally glancing up at him.  You aimed for neutrality, hoping you could suppress how guarded you really were.

“One of these days, kid, you’re going to tell me what that means,” he said, finally letting the issue drop.   

“One of these days, we’re finding a bed,” you insisted, your hands gripping the sides of the bookcase as you all but prayed the thing didn’t collapse on you.  

Gabriel had ravaged the thing, sending pieces shattering in every direction in his haste before hoisting you up on the highest shelf left, ensuring he had a place to ravish you.  The setup was far from sturdy, the entire frame creaking and wiggling with every movement.  You did your best to stay still as he buried his head between your thighs, whereas he tried his damndest to get you to writhe as much as possible.  

“God, you’re such an ass,” you moaned, your feet digging into his back to keep your hips from rocking into his face.  You wished you could have the same effect on him, that you could make him dance to whatever tune you created, from fast-paced to slow to everything in between.  Yet, it was always him playing your body while you simply went along with whatever symphony he orchestrated.  

You wished you could tell him now.   You wished Bobby could understand that you left the walls of the camp because there wasn’t enough inside of them anymore.  Only he wouldn’t.  

His first reaction would be to make sure you weren’t bewitched.  Once convinced your mind had not been compromised, he’d move on to coercion, insisting there must be something the angel was holding over you.  It would take him some time for his denial to wear off, but once it did, then he’d think you were a silly little girl in way over her head.

Or a complete dumbass.

You weren’t sure which would be worse.  

“So… I can only imagine what you want to talk about,” he began.  “We got angel attacks getting closer by the day.  Outposts being discovered and overrun.  They’ve fractured our communication lines with the outermost colonies.  There’s that damn flu making its rounds, the fact that our last four supply runs came up all but empty, and I’m sure if we looked hard enough, we could even find a spy or two…”

In other words, you better not be there to waste his time.  

“Subtle,” you remarked.  “And while I understand you, and the others, have very important things to worry about, I would hope the happiness of your people would be among them.”

His eyes swung to you, hard and measured.  This wasn’t the first time you’d picked this battle, and he wasn’t any more thrilled to be doing it than you were.

“Hate to say it, but it’s the apocalypse.  Nobody’s supposed to be happy.”  

You knew you were walking a fine line.  You understood his priorities.  He and the other leaders had an overwhelming burden to shoulder, but sometimes they lost sight of the things that went beyond crises and survival.

“Should I quote you on that?”

You could practically feel the burn of his stare searing through the side of your head.  

“We’re doing the best we can with what we have.”  End of discussion.  

You hated when he tried to shut you down, like you were still some naive child with no idea what life was like beyond the walls.  

“Are we?”  You demanded.  At best, the place was a refugee camp, rather than the rebuilding of civilization they claimed.  Everything about it screamed temporary.  Many of the structures remained open.  Only the sick, injured, and most vulnerable were afforded four walls and a roof.  The rest of you made do with improvised lean-tos and tied down canvas, and even you had to admit to feeling a little salty that some of your supplies saw better quarters than the rest of you.  

You made do because you had to.  Because three figureheads was enough to keep a pulse on the entire place, but not nearly enough to keep ushering people forward.  Even with your help, with Wes’ and a handful of others, the tide had grown stagnant over the last several months.  People were drowning, and nothing good ever came from feeling like one’s head was trapped beneath the water while the surface drifted further and further away.

The only reason you weren’t losing your mind was because you had an archangel that had no problem helping you misplace it.  

Fuck, he was so good at this.  That tongue of his knew just how to move, just how much pressure to use, just what pace to set to get you to unravel.  His fingers moved within you, and they, too, knew exactly when to curl and hit that sweet spot.  You’d never known any man to pay this much attention to what you liked, and you wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that he wasn’t one.

He tried to draw it out for you, bringing you right to the brink before easing you back again.  It was amazing and agonizing all at once.  

“Gabriel,” you pleaded, hands raking through his hair, nails scraping across his scalp as another wave of pleasure rolled through you.  You rocked yourself forward, ignoring the precarious groaning of the wood, unable to see past anything but an increasingly blinding need for him to pull that final stitch and let you come undone.  

“Sing for me my little songbird,” he murmured, his voice deep and husky with arousal.  

“Can’t,” you panted.  It was risky enough just being there with him.  You didn’t need some half-cocked night patrol bursting in because the archangel needed his ego stroked.  

Refusing him was clearly a challenge, his fingertips stroking your g-spot with more vigor.  Your head dropped back against the wall, a half-strangled moan catching in your throat.

“Gabriel—“” your argument cut short with a whine as he all but stopped, his touch slow, feather-light -- maddening -- and you watched as your release slipped away once again.   

“You will sing,” he insisted, his face breaking away from your sex to nibble tantalizingly along your inner thigh.  “Even if it takes me all night to convince you to…”

“I have all day to talk,” you reminded Bobby.  “Do you?”

You glanced back down at the activity below, taking another long pull from your mug.  You let the liquid roll around in your mouth, savoring the taste, allowing him time to decide how he wanted this to play out.  

“If you got a point, then make it.”  

You nodded, but said nothing, eyes riveted to the instructional building where all the kids spent their days learning useful things.  Trades.  Survival skills.  Tactical strategies.  How to properly handle an angel blade.  

“Listen,” he rounded, patience reaching its limit in the steady flush creeping up his neck.  “We got five graves that need to be dug this morning, so I suggest --”

You held up a finger to him, cutting him off.  “Just a moment.”  

A few seconds later, a set of doors swung open and everyone between the ages of six and sixteen came filing out.  Gaunt faces peered out from beneath worn and weathered layers, bodies shuffling obediently to the area a handful of adults were shepherding them.  This was their time to take a break from their studies, to be children, and yet, nothing about their movements suggested they were.  

There were no bursts of laughter, no lighthearted giggles or shouts, no excitement to be free from such menial tasks.  There wasn’t an ounce of playfulness within the group, only solemnity and silence that was mirrored by the adults overseeing them.  

“What do you see down there?”  You questioned.    

Bobby was many things, but he wasn’t an idiot.  

“Point made,” he conceded.  “Some days it’s like half of them already think they’re dead.”  

“Can you blame them?”  You made a wide sweeping gesture to the entire grounds.  Everything had a purpose, a function, just like everyone in the colony had a role.  Some days it felt like you were all just cogs in one big machine that did nothing but demand you keep running regardless of all the death and discomfort.  

“It may not be paradise, but it’s the best we can do.”  

“Is it?”  You pressed, unwilling to let the same cliche arguments drive the conversation.  “They need a way to let off steam.  Some form of entertainment, an escape, something.”

“I’ll get right on putting in a jungle gym after I bury our dead and explain to their children why their parents died from something a few Tylenol could have fixed.”  Sarcasm bled heavily into his words, and you could tell you were losing him.  “You want to help these people?  Find us some medical supplies.  Build us a clinic that doesn’t kill as many people as it helps because we can’t sanitize it properly.  Guarantee us one god damn supply run that doesn’t end with somebody not coming home!”

He had a valid point, but it only strengthened your argument that much more.  

“I’m not saying we ignore those things.  What I’m suggesting is we don’t overlook them.  Lift the sanctions on what people can bring back,” you insisted.  “Simple things like books, magazines, porn.”

Actual liquor so you didn’t have to drink things that tasted like they were one bad batch away from blinding you.  

Stars overlaid your vision, though it wasn’t quite how you anticipated.  The bookshelf emitted a final, dying groan before giving beneath your weight.  Gabriel lunged forward, pinning you to the frame with such speed that your head slammed unceremoniously back against it.  

“Shit,” he muttered, fingers hastily tapping the side of your head.  “Don’t check out on me yet, sweetheart.”  

The ache in your skull immediately faded, and he waited for you to lock your legs around his waist before shifting your weight entirely onto him.  

“Can we do things my way for once?”  You asked as he moved you both away from the new pile of kindling.  

He made a non-committal noise, turning to assess what other options were available for you both to get back to business.  

“You know, where we don’t break anything, myself included?”

“Ha, ha, chuckles.”  Sarcasm dripped from his words, though gold was more heated than anything when it pinned you beneath a look.  “I have yet to hear any complaints.”  

That’s because you knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.  

“Unless…”  He prompted, almost daring you to say something to contrary.  

“No complaints,” you confirmed, stepping down to the floor.  “Though it would be nice if you let me lead for a change.”  

He was always the one calling the shots.  For once, you wanted to be the one in charge.  

Your hands smoothed up his chest before nudging him backward, and his brow shot up in a clashing combination of warning and curiosity.  He allowed you to guide him toward the center of the room until something pushed into the back of his thighs.  You reached behind him, ripping a sheet off an old, worn desk before playfully shoving him on top of it.  

“Permission to climb aboard the Gabriel Express?”

He rolled his eyes so hard he must have pulled something, but there was no mistaking the twitch of his lips or the way some of the darkness receded from his stare.

“Do you actually have anything important to discuss, or are we planning to ride the unicorn and sparkles train straight into the station?”  Bobby demanded after you went another heated round with each other.    

The knuckles around your mug turned white, and you realized no amount of good whiskey was going to let you keep your cool with him today.  

It was like talking to a brick wall.  Nothing you said made a difference, but you forged ahead, unwilling to let it drop this time.  The more you debated, the more you realized the only common ground between you was the sheer stubbornness you both possessed.  Any minute now, a bell was going to go off and you were going to be ushered into your separate corners.  

That, or one of you was simply going to murder the other one.

“What's the point of living if all we're going to do is survive?!” You shouted, your control dissolving as your words echoed across the valley.  

One day you were going to make him lose control, but tonight was not that night.

He wouldn’t, or couldn’t, give it up, his hand tight in your hair, baring your throat when he wanted it, dragging your mouth back to him on a whim, keeping your lips locked tight until you thought you might suffocate beneath his hunger.  

He let you set the pace, but the way he sat stock still beneath you resonated as more of a power move.  Be careful what you wish for, sweets, that smirk of his whispered as he made you do all the work.  

You took it as a challenge, doing everything you could to make him regret that decision, whether it was rising up and taking him in at a painfully slow rate or bringing him close to the edge before backing off the same as he had with you.  

Bit by bit, he started splintering, the need beneath his hands increasing as he tried to undo you.  You focused on the burning ache of your muscles, refusing to allow him to drag you over the edge yet.  A flush spread through the length of you, sweat breaking out across your skin.  Whose resolve would give first, you wondered?

Your face filled with color, less from your outburst and more from the way Bobby looked on the verge of shattering.  

“Is that how you feel?”  The quiet uncertainty beneath his words didn’t suit him.  He was the one with the unapologetic loud mouth.  He was the one filled with anger and bite.  You were supposed to be the one that took the edge off things.

“Bobby --”

“Don’t Bobby me, young lady.  You tell it to me straight.”  His face was all stern lines and gravity, and you suddenly felt like the time you’d gotten caught beneath the gym bleachers, not only with some boy but the wrong one.  

“No,” you told him.  “I don’t because it’s enough that I have people who take care of me.”

You never knew how often Gabriel had your back.  When you came, screaming his name and clenching so hard on his cock even he couldn’t hold back a cry, someone should have come running.  

No one did.  

You weren’t in any state of mind to question why, but, unbeknownst to you, he’d undone just enough of the grounds’ warding before you arrived so he could soundproof the building.  He’d never admit to it, and if you ever did ask, he’d simply pass it off to unusually accommodating acoustics.  

Had you known, it would have made losing your standoff a little less grating.  Your pride was used to it, though, and begging him to fuck you when your legs began to tremble wasn’t really anything new.  

He stilled, hands moving behind your thighs to help you ride out your pleasure exactly the way you wanted.  When you were done, they moved up your backside, helping himself to a generous handful of your curves.  He rolled his hips into you, giving slow, lazy thrusts that buried him in you to the hilt.

“You should see your face when you come,” he rasped, mouth ravenous along your neck.  That extra something within his presence returned, removing the chill from the air and causing it to swelter.

You couldn't imagine the view was as nearly as magical as he made it sound, but who were you to argue with someone that much older than you?

“So make me again,” you challenged, emboldened by whatever was causing his energy to spill out so palpably.  Your teeth sank into his lip, drawing it away from his mouth in a wholly uncharacteristic and ungentle way.  

He grunted, fingertips digging into your waist before he started pounding away at you in earnest.  

And make you come again, he did.  With one leg over his shoulder, then both, and lastly on your back when your legs could barely move, hitting so hard and deep that every thrust was followed by your sharp cries of satisfaction.  

When it was finally his turn, his eyes flashed bright with flames of gold, a gutteral noise tearing through him so fiercely the vibrations carried over onto your body.  You yelped as teeth unexpectedly sank into your shoulder so hard you were surprised when there wasn’t any blood.

“Fuck,” he growled, collapsing, the weight of his body trapping you against the desk.  

Instead of leaving right away, he lingered, leaving himself buried inside of you as your breaths began to slow.  You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, only that it didn’t take long.  He never stayed more than a handful of minutes after, and you were glad not to be conscious of it.  Every time left, you felt empty, physically and ways that ran so deep you didn’t want to think about them.  

You awoke a handful of hours later to ray of light spilling in through the dusty windows.  You were already dressed and covered in a dusty quilt that could have been tucked away in some obscure box, though you knew it hadn’t, and you might have questioned whether the night had really happened if he hadn’t left a few gifts behind for you to remember it by.   

“But other people aren’t as lucky, and some people just need more.”  You paused, watching two individuals square up against each other over what amounted to a shoulder brush.  “Some people need to get laid or take matters into their own hands.”  

Bobby made a face.  “Not much standing in the way of that.”  

You fixed him with a look that said there’s plenty.  

“Books.  Magazines.  Porn,” you repeated.  “Start there, and I guarantee you'll see a difference.”  

Shouts rose up from below, and you knew it was only a matter of time before fists started flying.  You frowned, knowing you both should get down there before the two idiots broke each others’ noses again.  

“You’d think they’d just learn their lesson and steer clear of each other,” he sighed, as tired of their antics as you were.   

You smirked.  “Maybe they would if they had some Playboys.”

He winced.  “For the love of anything good left in this world, can we please stop talking about porn?!”  

You stepped back, attempting to hide your mirth as you took one last sip from your cup.  You turned to head down the path, but before you could, he grabbed you by the arm.  

“You’d tell me if you ever felt that way, right?”  Blue eyes pinned you beneath the look, the one reserved to scare the shit out of anyone dumb enough to mess with you, and these rare moments in which he needed you to believe he actually could see through you so you wouldn't lie.  

You slipped your hand into your pocket, an ache flaring across your shoulder as fingers came in contact with something.  The lining to your jacket muffled the sound of the crinkling wrapper as your thumb skimmed over the nearly whole chocolate bar, pausing to worry over the small indent where a piece was missing.  It brought a smile to your face as much as the bruise and warm whiskey in your belly.  

“Don’t worry, dad,” you assured him.  “I’ll be just fine.”  

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[violetsmoak]

Philtatos [7/?]

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101543/chapters/47630773

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: During a patrol where Red Hood and Red Robin cross paths, Jason is infected with the blood of the Eros, the ancient God of Love, who informs them that they must track down his missing bow and arrows, or Jason will go slowly mad with an obsessive desire–for Tim. Though overwhelmed by the sudden attention being paid to him, Tim sets to work trying to solve the case, before Jason succumbs to madness. In the meantime, Jason discovers that there’s more than godlike powers at work here, as well as a legacy that reaches back through the sands of time.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

Beta Reader: None at the moment.

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #fate #fatal flaw #oracle #reincarnation #secrets #undying love

First Chapter

Author's Note(s): Sorry for the delay guys. Between trying to find a place to live, and dealing with a family member with Alzheimers, the past day or so has kind of sucked. But I did finally get some time to myself to finish this chapter, so I hope you enjoy! 

Much of the dialog and imagery of Jason’s flashback is based on actual lines from The Iliad and Madeline Miller's novel The Song of Achilles. If you're looking to cry, read the latter to the end.

________________________________________________________________

Tim stares at the screen of his tablet, reading the information but none of it registering. He’s been at this too long.

Crime scene photos from the GCPD’s system and coroners reports from half a dozen murder-suicides that took place throughout the city in the past week, each one more brutal than the last. One guy took a meat pounder to his girlfriend’s head; another a fire poker to his husband’s face.

I wish I could get out there and investigate the scenes myself.

He’s been effectively benched and it’s starting to give him cabin fever, even though he knows it’s important to stay with Jason right now.

Bruce took off to Amsterdam about an hour again; like Tim, he prefers to retrace crimes from their origin. It’s how they find clues the cops miss. Dick’s doing the same right now in Gotham, revisiting all the crime scenes with Duke by his side in case his retrocognition can help them any. He has no idea where Steph is tonight, but if Barbara’s radio silence is any indicator, they’re probably working something big together.

Jason’s been sitting beside him on the couch in the study, three separate books open on his lap and a notepad where he’s jotting down various comparisons of the information.

(Because “I’m not defacing a first edition version of Les Métamorphoses, especially not one with etchings by Picasso, Tim. It’s just not done.”)

The first hour he managed to keep absorbed in his task, but Tim’s noticed him stopping more often between annotations, rubbing at a spot on his neck or over the spot in his shoulder where he was shot.

Whenever he notices Tim looking, they both immediately look away and go back to work; but after another period of research—getting shorter and shorter after each pause—Jason’s back to twitching and looking guilty.

He’s going to have his neck rubbed raw in another hour.

Despite the fact the whole thing was Tim’s idea, it’s harder to remain unaffected about the need for physical contact than he thought. And Jason notices pretty fast that Tim isn’t as at ease with the ‘treatment’ plan as he’s been insinuating.

He thought Jason putting his arm around his shoulders earlier was mostly to bother Dick, whose attempts at protectiveness had just made the situation more awkward. But when Jason does it again later, unthinkingly draping himself around Tim’s shoulder, Tim can’t help going stiff as a board.

Jason pulls away immediately, as if he’s been burned. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s…fine.”

“Stop lying, obviously you’re not,” Jason answers, shifting to the other edge of the couch to put at least three feet between them. “You don’t have to force yourself to do this. I can get through it without you.”

Tim sets aside his tablet. “Because that worked out so well the first time you tried it.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter. I’m more than capable of figuring out how to get through this without using your skin as a security blanket.” He pauses. “That came out so much disturbing than I intended.”

“How was it ever not going to sound disturbing?” Tim wonders, and then sighs. “Look, I don’t mind. The longer you stay in a healthy headspace, the more time we have to find a cure.”

“Yeah, but if you’re so friggen uncomfortable with it—”

“I’m not!”

“Bullshit.”

“No, really, it’s fine. It’s my choice.”

“Yeah, say that without flinching and maybe I’ll believe you,” Jason mutters, shoulders slumping. “If you’re going to freeze up every time I go near your personal bubble, screw it. Like I don’t feel like enough of a creep…”

Tim can see how much he hates this, the fact that he’s making Tim uncomfortable—the fact that making Tim uncomfortable upsets him at all. He’s never cared before; it’s always been a kind of unofficial hobby.

But now that his brain and hormones are becoming compromised, it’s more important to him than ever not to cross boundaries. Or at least what he perceives as boundaries.

Tim bows his head.

He’s been managing his feelings about all this by remaining clinical, dividing him from the particulars of the situation the way he’s always done. It’s the sort of thing that works on hard cases, the kind involving little kids or serial murders. He forgot that it doesn’t work so well when dealing with people.

Communication, he remembers Steph chiding him during one argument. Honesty.

Nodding to himself, Tim forces himself to appear relaxed.

“It’s not like that. I just—I’ve never been really good at all the…” He waves his hand, searching for the words, “…physical intimacy stuff.”

Jason blinks, not having expected that. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Tim shifts. “I know it’s hard to tell when I’m next to Dick or Steph or someone who…”

“Who has personal space issues?”

“Yeah. But with them I’ve gotten used to it. But with you, you’ve never exactly…”

“Put hands on you except to lay you out flat on the floor?” Jason suggests, and then turns red. “I mean beating the crap out of you! Not the other thing that…! Fuck, he wasn’t kidding about the innuendo thing, was he?”

“Oh, I don’t know. If not for everything going on, I’m pretty sure you’d still be making jokes to make everyone uncomfortable,” Tim muses, his own ears warm at the accidental image Jason’s words provided.

Jason tilts his head to one side, and then nods. “Fair.”

They smirk at each other for a moment. Then something thoughtful passes across Jason’s face.

“What?”

“When you say physical intimacy,” Jason starts slowly, “d’you mean just occupying someone else’s personal space, or…?”

He trails off, and it takes a few seconds before Tim interprets the meaning. His cheeks may actually be on fire right now. “Uh…”

“You’re kidding.”

“Well, the first one’s always kind of an issue,” Tim mumbles, looking away, “so I don’t really—like I said, I’m not used to anyone wanting to get close to me, let alone actually trying it. Which always made everything kind of awkward.”

“And the second thing?”

“…that made it awkward, too.”

“So, you haven’t—? Like, not even with Blondie?”

There’s incredulity there, but no judgment, which is somewhat of a relief; he’s too used to other guys looking like he should have his man card revoked for not pouncing on a gorgeous girl like Steph.

As if anyone would ever get away with pouncing without getting a brick to the face.

But Jason seems genuinely curious, which makes Tim want to try to answer.

“No?” Tim winces at the uncertainty in the word and glances up to make sure there’s still no judgment on Jason’s face. “Not because—not because I didn’t—or she wasn’t—we fooled around, but never—she’d already done the whole unwanted pregnancy thing. We wanted to be careful and wait until we were both sure we wanted to. And then she died, then came back because she wasn’t really dead, and we broke up. But it was a long time ago, and then we never got another opportunity because—well, there was Bruce dying and not dying, and other people dying, and then losing Robin, and just…” He lets his words trail as he realizes he’s been babbling. “Sorry. Babbling.”

Jason makes a dismissive gesture. “Nah, it’s cute.”

There’s a moment where they both process his words, and then Jason’s rubbing at his neck and Tim’s coughing because he thinks he might have choked on his tongue.

“I’m going to…” Jason stands, starts rummaging through his pockets, and then jerks his head toward the balcony, “Smoke break.”

“Right,” Tim answers, carefully neutral.

Tim doesn’t complain about the smoking, even though he hates it. Jason’s under enough stress right now, if the nicotine helps calm him even a little a bit, Tim can put up with it for the short-term.

Not like he’s going to be around once we fix all this.

He lets Jason make his escape and for the first time since the conversation began, takes a full breath.

It’s just Eros’ blood. He doesn’t actually think that.

The truth doesn’t make his heart stop fluttering.

“Fuck,” he mutters, letting his face fall into his hand; he rubs at his face in frustration.

“Wallowing in your failure as usual, Drake?”

He jumps and then shoots a glare across the room at the pint-sized bane of his existence.

“Why aren’t you out terrorizing the streets of Gotham?”

“I’m here to ensure the present status quo endures and neither you nor Todd end up compromised,” Damian retorts. Then Tim blinks, the kid smirks at him. “I’m babysitting you two morons.”

“Well my life just hit another low…”

“I have also been doing research of my own to pass the time, since my talents are being ignored in favor of mundane surveillance tasks,” the boy continues. “I was intrigued at Todd’s apparent symptoms of xenoglossia and decided to peruse the security footage to see what might have precipitated it.”

“…And?”

“It wasn’t until you arrived that it started. He called you philtatos. It means ‘most beloved’.”

Tim tries not to choke. “How do you know that?”

“Anyone who has read the Iliad in the original Greek could tell you that,” Damian drawls.

“Well, excuse me, I had an education meant for this millennium.” Tim tries not to croak, running his hands through his hair in frustrations. The strands are stringy today and he tries to remember when he washed it last was; probably before Jason was brought to the manor.

“Odd that he’d call you that, though,” Damian continues. “He has that habit of assigning the most absurd monikers to anyone within a ten-foot radius. It’s not exactly the type of thing he would say. And to you of all people.”

Tim frowns, ignoring the insult. “You think it’s a symptom of the infection?”

“Perhaps. The term itself, or the tongue in question. In case you were curious, which I doubt since unless it involves a computer your interest becomes depressingly cursory, the language Todd was mumbling in while drooling on your shoulder was Archaia Makedonike.”

“English, brat.”

“Ancient Macedonian, you classless twit. The language itself was prevalent in the Hellenistic period before giving way to its superior successor, Koine, when it was brought by the military forces of Alexander the Great.”

“Conqueror of the known world at the time—why am I not surprised you’re so well-versed.”

“Tt. Of course I am. As a child, Mother brought me on a journey to follow in his footsteps along what was once his Empire.”

You’re still a child, Tim doesn’t say, because he just doesn’t have the energy for the inevitable resulting fight. “Sounds like quality family bonding time.”

“It was meant to show me all that could be achieved in a short lifetime,” Damian sniffs. “And what could be lost just as easily.”

“Because he died young?”

“Not only that, but because of his rather questionable decisions. Like pouring a considerable amount of his treasury into a funeral monument for one of his generals. He was so besotted with the man he died less than a year later. It’s disgraceful.”

“Right, because caring about someone is a bad thing.”

“It is possible to care without being ruled by one’s emotions.”

“Yeah, you’re such an excellent example of that,” Tim deadpans. At Damian’s glare, he makes a defensive gesture with his hand. “What do you want me to say? People do weird stuff for the people they care about.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “Evidently.”

He continues to watch Tim in a way he’s not entirely sure he likes. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“It sounds like you’ve got something to say.”

Jason chooses that moment to return, although he halts in the door when he notices the way Tim and Damian are glaring at one another. “Am I walking in on something here?”

“I was simply demonstrating Drake’s continued ignorance in several arenas,” Damian replies, and pushes past Jason. “I’ve wasted enough of my day pandering to your nonsense. Shout if you need help.” His gaze lingers on Jason with disgust. “Or possibly a firehose.”

“Was that demon-speak for ‘make good choices’?” Tim calls after him and noticing Jason’s bemused expression offers a half shrug. “He will do great things.”

“See, I knew all that getting on his case was just your way of showing you like him,” Jason teases and settles back on the couch. Much closer to Tim this time, body angled toward him; he can smell leather and the acrid smell of cigarettes.

He forces a grin, “Tell no one.”

“Lips are sealed,” Jason replies, abruptly stretching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

The gesture would normally make Tim want to melt, to bend closer to Jason as well; at first it does, but the reason for it remains starkly in his mind, and instead his skin crawls.

The study suddenly seems too small, too close, magnified by Jason’s focus on him.

Need a distraction.

“There’s a lot of CCTV footage to go through,” he says, clearing his throat and standing quickly. He ambles over to the desk to grab Bruce’s laptop, holding up to Jason. “Feel like going through half?”

“Not particularly, but only because that’s the most boring job ever.”

“And reading scholarly articles dissecting the exact syntax of some ancient play isn’t?”

“Don’t act like if it was Klingon or something you wouldn’t have a field day.”

But Jason accepts the computer, putting his books and notes to one side. Tim exhales a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

They sit in silence again for a while, one that’s somehow more tense than earlier. Tim’s stomach keeps leaping, waiting for the next time Jason needs to reach out to him, simultaneously craving and dreading it.

So it’s no surprise that he physically jolts when Jason suddenly announces, “I think I’ve got something.”

“What?” he asks quickly, hoping his reaction wasn’t that noticeable. He moves to peek over Jason’s shoulder, considering a timestamped video of an Upper East Side apartment. There’s a crowd gathered outside as paramedics load two covered stretchers into an ambulance.

“Right there.” Jason points at a grainy image in the upper left corner, almost obscured by the lighting. “See this woman?”

Tim studies the image of the woman in a leather jacket and skin-tight pants. “Yeah?”

“That’s Carrie Cutter.”

“Carrie…” Tim consults his mental rolodex. “Carrie Cutter as in Cupid?”

“Yep.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive. I’m pretty familiar with anyone Roy might have had beef with down in his corner of the world. You know, just in case.”

Which is a smart thing to do, really, considering old enemies always have a tendency to return when they’re least expected.

And just…great. Because Carrie Cutter, along with being crazy to the point of earning honorary Arkham status, also happens to be a genetically enhanced special-ops soldier that knows how not to be found. If she’s got her hands on divine weapons somehow, it’s going to make apprehending her much more of a challenge.

Especially those weapons. If any of us get tagged with those, we’re done. I’ve been around when the Family gets turned against each other, and it’s never pretty.

The memory of Joker’s macabre dinner party still makes him gag reflexively.

Tim leans forward, balancing his weight on the desk with his palms, and studies the image again. “Could be a coincidence.”

“Has anything about all this felt coincidental to you?”

“Touché.” Tim shakes his head. “Damn. So, Cupid stole Cupid’s bow and arrows?”

What even is my life anymore?

“And the MO makes sense now, if you think about it,” Jason points out; he absently starts to rub the back of Tim’s hand with his thumb. Tim swallows and fights the conflicting urge to jerk his hand away or lean further into Jason’s space. “She has that whole crazed ‘if-I-can’t-be-happy-no-one-can’ thing going on. If she’s got Eros’ diviners, she could accomplish whatever she wants pretty easily.”

“Does she still have that obsession with Green Arrow?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Maybe we should let Oliver know she’s heading his way.”

“Or not.”

“Jason!”

“No, seriously, hear me out, this isn’t me hating on Queen.”

“Sure…”

“Look at the pattern of robberies and deaths—if she’s headed out west, she’s taking the long way and at a slow stroll. There are tons of direct flights from Amsterdam to Star City. She could be there in like a day if that’s her goal, but she’s moving so slowly—based on the places she’s hit, and how long it takes her to get there, I’d say she’s driving.” He traces a line from Europe to the East Coast. “And possibly taking a boat. Not the Carnival way, either. I know people like to go incognito sometimes, but even that’s Bruce levels of paranoid.”

“And he once rode a goat truck across the border of Qurac…”

“Also, there are more direct routes from here to the West Coast.”

“So why come to Gotham at all,” Tim says, and steeples his fingers. “Either she’s taking her time for a reason, or she was never heading for Star City.”

“Then what does she want?”

“And how has she dropped so completely off the radar since she got here?”

Jason shrugs and leans back, stretching his arms and yawning; his arm brushes against Tim’s shoulder on its way down.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Tim asks quickly, wishing his voice didn’t sound like it was squeaking.

“Like sleep or power naps? Because I’ve had a lot of those.”

Tim rolls his eyes. “If you don’t get some rest we’ll have more to worry about than accidental innuendos. You should get some sleep.”

“The irony of you telling anyone that…”

“I’ve never had to fight off an Olympian bloodborne disease.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly comfortable falling asleep right now. I keep seeing weird shit.”

“Like what?”

“I…can’t even remember. The whole thing just gives me a bad feeling.”

“You want to stay in my room?” This time it’s Jason who jumps and shoots Tim a panicked look. “Not like that! I just figured; it’s got all my stuff there. People sometimes take comfort in objects, and I just figured maybe being surrounded by my stuff would help. And I somehow don’t see you as the teddy bear type.”

Jason barks out a surprised laugh. “Hey, leave Paddington out of this!”

“You didn’t actually have a stuffed toy named Paddington!”

“Not just a stuffed toy, I’ll have you know, it was actually a Paddington Bear,” Jason retorts. “My mother used to read the stories to me, and she found him in a second-hand shop the Christmas before she…” Jason trails off, the levity in his face smoothing into careful blankness. “Anyway. I pretended like I was too old for stuff like that, but I was just happy she was lucid enough to even do Christmas that year.”

Tim can’t help the way his eyes soften at the story. He’s never heard Jason say anything about his life before Bruce, at least nothing personal.

Jason seems to notice the scrutiny, because he looks away. “Anyway. Not important. But we can try that whole…staying in your room thing. It would be nice to catch some Zs.”

They pack up their things and head down the hall to Tim’s room; all the while, Tim is trying to figure out what possessed him to suggest this. It’s true, comfort objects are a thing, but he could just as easily have brought a whole bunch of his stuff to Jason’s room for the same effect.

Except Jason doesn’t go near his room unless he’s unconscious and Bruce puts him there to recover.

He flicks on the light as Jason brushes past. “I haven’t been here in a while, so Alfred’s probably changed the sheets and everything. Good to go if you want to sleep.”

“And, uh…you’ll stay, right?”

“Yeah,” Tim replies softly. “At least until you fall asleep, then I have to take care of a few things. Alfred will probably nag me to eat and shower and changes clothes or something.”

And I need to make a trip home to have a conversation with my unwanted houseguest.

“Oh, the horror,” Jason says neutrally, though he starts rubbing at the back of his neck again, irritating the already red skin there.

Tim reaches over automatically and moves his hand away. A week ago, doing that would have probably gotten him punched; now Jason simply lets him, his body unconsciously leaning toward him.

“Listen, if you wake up and I’m not in here, don’t freak out. I’m probably in the kitchen being force-fed grits or something. And if I’m not, just call me and I’ll find you. We can even FaceTime while you wait.”

“Whatever,” Jason says, trying to sound nonchalant. He plops himself down on Tim’s bed, then frowns down at the bedsheet. “Holy shit this is soft.”

“It should be, it’s got a thread count of a thousand.”

“Spoiled ass rich boy,” Jason mutters, lying back on the bed. A surprised and pleased expression appears on his face. “Okay you know what? Forget obsessing over you, I want your bedroom set.”

This time it’s Tim who gives a surprised laugh.

⁂

“I will not be humiliated before my army.”

The lord marshal’s face resembles a misshapen beat, fury twisting his features; the skin beneath his nose is raw from the scented oils he’s been using to block the acrid scent of the funeral pyres. Jason has mostly become familiar with the odor by now—smoke and burning flesh and blood.

“What humiliation is there in appeasing the gods?” he counters and is surprised his voice remains so calm and measured; Tim is a reassuring presence at his back.

“Returning Chryses’ daughter is tantamount to the theft of my rightly taken trophy,” the king of men snarls. “Find me a replacement and I may consider it, but I will not be the only man among us without a prize.”

The quiet among the men is pointed, saturated with disagreement; even the obstinate man’s brother does not stand with him on the dais where kings and their liegemen have gathered. But Jason knows no one will step forward to say anything.

Only me, as usual.

“Son of Atreus, you know as well as anyone that we take our prizes from lawful combat. There’s ample opportunity to replace the girl, or even her worth in gold, three and four times over. All of us who stand here are kings and the vassals of kings, and we don’t owe you compensation when it was you who angered the gods in the first place.”

By taking the girl whose life I was trying to save just to screw me over, I would add.

A few of the men nod at his words; in the background, the moaning cries of the dying fill the air, a cacophony that has haunted the shore for ten days since the plague hit.

“Show your men that you’re as humble in nature as you are proficient in battle, and make amends.” He doubts the pig will notice the insult there. “End this plague before more die.”

Fury contracts the other man’s pupils to fine dots. “You will learn your place, boy. Just because divine blood runs through your veins and your mother raised you to believe you are special does not mean you might speak to me as an equal.” Jason bristles but is immediately cut off again. “Silence! I have no interest in whatever clever words your puppet master would have you speak.”

The blunt insult instead of flowery political doublespeak is surprising enough to still the words on his lips. He senses when Tim stiffens; they both know that last was directed at him.

“If I hear further suggestions that I give up my property without receiving something of like value in exchange, then I will sacrifice the man who suggests it, along with Chryses’ bitch daughter to appease the gods. Perhaps you might volunteer, Peliades,” the lord marshal concludes.

“I’m not afraid of speaking up when it’s needed,” Jason growls, “and we all know you can’t afford to sacrifice me.”

“Listen to the arrogance! It is the same you have displayed from the moment you arrived here. I believe it to be high time you face consequence for your heedless words.”

“Consequence,” Jason echoes, calm; Tim shifts closer, knowing that his outward composure is a sign of danger. The men around them shift as well, some of them whispering; more than one man’s fingers twitch toward their sword. “It’s you who should think of consequence.”

“Careful,” Tim cautions in his ear, breath hot across his neck as he comes to step beside him. He has to keep from rubbing at the area with his thumb.

“Is that a threat?” the king of men demands.

“An observation. How much longer do you think these men will last, without me to lead them into battle? How many times have I been the one who turned the tides of defeat to victory, while you remained in the back ranks?”

Now the whispering is louder, angrier; voices of dissent and outrage.

“I am High King!” the older lord roars. “Every man here knelt before me when we came to these shores or swore oaths to the gods to follow my command. Even your beloved Menoitiades whom you shield as if he is your wife.” Tim clenches his fists but carefully doesn’t meet Jason’s eyes; acknowledgement of one another now will only prove the argument. “You are the only one that always considered yourself above such things.”

Jason is furious. Green like the cold sea edges around his vision, and it would be so easy to leap across the three-foot gap and snap the bastard’s neck. He could do it before anyone else might react, and he’s fast enough to get away before anyone retaliates.

But Tim isn’t.

Tim who remains tense, shoulders set and whose fingers make a minute twitching motion against his side, silently beseeching Jason to keep his calm.

It doesn’t work.

“I have nothing to prove to you, or any who swore oaths to you,” Jason snarls through gritted teeth. “The horse-tamers have never threatened my home, have never stolen our stock or torched our fields. I chose to be here, to sail to this wretched city and help your half-wit brother regain a woman who likely doesn’t wish to be reclaimed.”

More murmuring; it’s a sentiment no one has wanted to voice.

“Have a care with your words, boy; not all gods who listen are favorable to you.”

“And what would you know of the gods? I’m closer to their ilk than you ever will be, without the scandal that troubles your bloodline. If anyone should have these men’s fealty, it’s not you. Perhaps you should be the one who bends knee in appeasement.”

The crowd is outright clamoring now, supporters and enemies alike shouting over one another. The older man’s eyes widen in triumph. “You think yourself better than me? Or than the men I command?”

“No, they are my equals. You’re the dog-faced son of a bitch that isn’t fit to clean the boots of the men you profess to lead into battle.”

Exclamations of disbelief.

“That’s enough!” Tim hisses, jabbing him with an elbow.

“Yes, listen to your keeper, Peliades. He seeks to save you from being named a traitor to this army, and suffering punishment for it. Though I think we are beyond the point of playing this off as country bumpkin ignorance to custom. Your war prizes are forfeit; I will take them under tutorship until you come to your senses and offer submission to me.”

Jason’s muscles pull taut in incandescent anger. “You have no right to do that!”

“I have every right, especially since you are so keen to take mine. In fact, I demand the first woman you took as spoil at Ilion—fetch me Briseis’ daughter. She will replace the woman the gods wish me to return.”

“If you touch her, you forgo your victory in this war. I will take my ships and return to my land.”

“Flee, then, if your heart urges you! I have no fear of you—of all the kings the son of Kronos nurtures, you are the one I hate the most. Go with your ships, run with your tail between your legs. But I will have the woman before you go.”

Jason’s hand goes to his sword, but Tim’s hand is on his then.

“Leave it,” he whispers, frantic. “There are greater punishments than death. Let’s regroup and find a solution to this away from prying eyes.”

Jason knows he’s right. The men around them are filled with shock and disapproval, but none of the cowards will support him if he strikes down the king of men.

And so instead of slicing the ignorant prick’s kneecaps out from under him, Jason simply spits at his feet.

“You’re a coward with the face of a dog but the heart of a deer. You’ve never had the courage to arm for battle along with the men you boast to lead because you fear death. You’re faithless, taking the property of those who speak contrary to you, preferring to rule over a kingdom of nobodies. Your words today doom you and your men to disgraceful ends.” He glares at all the men gathered there simply watching. “I won’t fight alongside this army any longer, and without me, you’ll all fall, ground beneath the feet of the man-killing prince. The day will come when you send your toadies to me to beg, and you’ll kneel before me crying for forgiveness, but I’ll give you nothing but laughter as you bleed in the dust before me. You will all die in ignominy for what the son of Atreus does today.”

And with that, he turns on his heel and stalks away.

Tim follows, as do the rest of the men sworn to him.

“I’ll kill him,” Jason fumes under his breath when they are far enough away not to be heard. “I would have if you hadn’t stopped me.”

“I know. And then you would have been struck down, which I couldn’t allow,” Tim soothes. “Be patient. I’ll think of a plan, you know I always do.”

“And in the meantime, that sack of pig shit will take Hippodamea and vent his frustrations toward me on her,” Jason growls.

“If he rapes her, he violates the life of one who is under your gods given protection. His men and the gods will turn on him if he does. After that display, he’s not going to court anymore of their disapproval. She will be safe until you bend knee to him.”

“Which won’t happen.”

“There are more important things than your pride,” Tim reminds him, a bit of reprimand in his tone. “Don’t lower yourself to his level, to the level of men, when you are as a god.”

Jason blinks, and turns to Tim. “That’s it.”

“What?”

“I’ll go to my mother.”

Tim’s face pales. “No!”

“Why not? And it better not be because you think she hates you.”

“She does hate me, but that’s besides the point. I just…have a bad feeling. The silver-footed are like the sea—unmerciful and uncaring who they harm in their storm. That path leads to death, I think.”

“Yes. His.”

Tim is silent and continues to look worried.

“I don’t need your permission to do this,” Jason tells him, a little sour that he doesn’t have his support on this matter.

Something like hurt flickers across his face, but then Tim’s expression goes carefully blank. “I would never presume to tell you what to do.”

“That’s not what everyone on this gods forsaken beach thinks!”

“Since when have you ever cared what people think?”

“You can’t stop me doing this,” Jason snaps.

Tim looks sad now. “I know.”

He turns to leave.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to prepare Hippodamea for what’s to come. Somehow I doubt you will be able to feign sympathy long enough to shoulder that burden,” he replies coldly, and stalks away.

Jason watches him go, his righteous anger continuing to simmer, until it occurs to him that Tim is actually quite angry with him. Some of the bite goes out of his rage, and worry creeps through his body.

“No, wait,” he starts, hurrying after him. “Don’t go—”

“—Tim!”

Jason sits upright in bed, arm outstretched as if to make a grab for a hand or arm, only to grasp air.

A maelstrom of different emotions cloud his mind, blocking his awareness of the room around him for several long seconds while he fights for his bearings. Anger and hurt and guilt and fear, all tied up with longing, playing on repeat in his head.

He has the strangest compulsion to make amends for something and he doesn’t remember what.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, pulling his hand back close to his body, elbow to chest, hand pressing against his shoulder. The skin radiates heat through the cotton of his t-shirt, warmer than his normal body temperature; probably from the wound.

He is alone, surrounded by pillows and a comforter that should smell like Tim but don’t (because Alfred washed them, so they’re new), in a room that feels somehow too big (which it shouldn’t, it’s the same size as the other rooms, as his room that he never goes into if he can help it. It’s bigger than the holding cell was).

A glance at the digital clock reads two in the morning. Prime patrol time, and more importantly, four hours since he put his head down. He’s pretty sure that’s the most sleep he’s had in a week, even if it was cut short by another of those maddening dream sequences that vanish from his memory in direct relation to how awake he becomes.

Where’s Tim?

He swings his feet over the edge of the bed, ready to go looking for him in the house, before remembering what he said before he fell asleep.

Don’t freak out.

Right. No problem. Tim’s just off somewhere having a human moment, which is just as well. He probably needs a break from Jason. Jason knows he needs a break from Tim—from everyone really. He can’t remember the last time he was in someone’s constant presence.

This is a good thing, he tells himself as he glances around the room, absently picking at the dry skin on the side of his thumb. He didn’t really look around when he first walked in. His brain was still trying to process the concept of Tim being the one to suggest his room as being the best place for Jason to relax.

And the surprise that he was actually right.

Tim is everywhere in these walls—video game posters and obscure pop culture refences—and furniture. There are candid photographs of him and his friends—Jason scowls at one of him and the Super Clone standing way too close together—and half-finished projects of wire and circuit. Clothes and books are strewn across the floor and—

“Christ, kid, you’re a goddamned slob.”

He never really took note of that quirk of Tim’s before, probably because they never really hung out. His knowledge of the kid’s lifestyle was limited to his own notions of what spoiled rich boys were like, and the general observation that his replacement ran on coffee and energy drinks.

His thumb is bleeding now from his continued picking, and he wipes it angrily on his pants, standing up. He needs a distraction. Otherwise, he’s going to go looking for Tim, or blow up his phone with calls until he picks up. He needs to prove to himself that he still has some control—test how long he can manage on his own, or at least test how long it takes between Tim leaving him alone and the anxious thoughts to set in.

He’s coming back. He wanted me to be here, or he wouldn’t have suggested it.

Jason just has to be patient.

Which…yeah, that was an issue even before this fixation crap.

“Screw this, I’m not just sitting here,” he grumbles, and starts wandering around the room, sorting clothes and tools and whatever other detritus has gathered on the floor. Cleaning is both mindless and immersive, something to do with his hands instead of scratch bloody welts into his skin.

And yet, he still drops everything when his phone vibrates.

“Tim?” he asks in the same breath that he unlocks the phone.

“Sorry.” Barbara actually sounds apologetic. “Just me.”

Disappointment hits him like a punch to the face. “No, yeah, it’s fine.”

“How are you holding up?”

Of course she knows what’s going on, too.

“Spectacular,” he says dryly, running a hand through his hair. “Can we maybe can the sympathy? I’m getting enough of that over here as it is. And you never call just to check in.”

There’s a beat, and then Barbara speaks again, still in her own voice, but more businesslike. “I may have found something.”

He likes that about her. She doesn’t get upset when called out on something, nor does she spend time on bullshit.

How the hell she dated Dick so long will forever be a mystery.

“What?” he asks, studying a strip of picture booth photos of Steph and Tim; the typical assortment of funny faces, pressed close together. Jason frowns, tugging absently at his hair.

“I’m not sure it’s anything, yet,” Barbara cautions, “but it’s almost certainly related to your situation.”

“And how’s that?”

“Because it involves Carrie Cutter.”

Jason straightens up. “What?”

“As soon as you and Tim established that Cupid was involved—both Cupids, I guess—I set up a search algorithm to track her whereabouts for the past month or so.” Of course she’s been monitoring everything from her little command center; this goddamn family and their surveillance… “It’s a bit too neat, someone with her modus operandi just bumping into the real Cupid.”

“And we don’t do coincidence.”

“Exactly.”

“So, she had to be sent there by someone or something. Specifically, to steal from Eros.”

“Yeah. Still working on who, though,” Barbara agrees. “That’s not the most interesting part, though.”

Jason’s scalp is beginning to burn from the distracted tugging, but he doesn’t stop. The pain is punishing, keeps him focussed on Barbara’s voice, and not the urge to hang up on her to call Tim. “Lay it on me.”

“I’ve got newspaper reports from the village of Delphi in Greece with a woman of her description killed a blind twelve-year-old two weeks ago. Sliced her throat with one of her arrowheads and walked away, took out anyone that tried to stop her.”

“Fuck.” Jason almost bites his tongue.

Carrie Cutter’s always been a murderer, but from what he knows of her from Roy, she never hurt a kid. His fingers itch with the need to punch something; he yanks his fingers out of his hair, several strands coming away with it, and slams his fist down on Tim’s desk. It creaks at the force.

“You okay?”

“Better than she’s going to be,” he replies tightly. “What else?”

“You heard me say Delphi, right?”

There’s a pause, like she’s letting him process, which he’s glad for; he did miss that the first time. Jason thinks the news over again, remembering bits and pieces memorized from National Geographic when he was a kid.

“Delphi,” he repeats. “Like the Oracle of Delphi Delphi?”

“Exactly.”

His back goes even more rigid. “Isn’t it common in a lot of myths that people who can see the future tend to be blind?”

“Good memory.”

“So we’re thinking the kid was a seer.”

“I’m thinking the kid was the actual Oracle of Delphi.”

Jason whistles. “But there hasn’t been one of those in hundreds of years, right?”

“Not since Theodosius I closed the temple when the Pythia gave him some bad news. Five years later, he was dead, and the Visigoths had captured Rome, and after that it wasn’t safe to be an oracle. But secret societies have been started over less.”

“Still, how would someone like Carrie Cutter know or even be interested in looking up some secret oracle? Even for Queen, she’s small-time.”

“Still working on that part.”

“And if she did talk to the oracle beforehand, what did the kid tell her that made her kill her?”

“Unfortunately, there was no tech anywhere around to pick up on that. Not even tourists taking cellphone videos.”

“Fuck.”

“But lucky for us, we have someone that can sort of see ghosts.”

Jason’s eyes widen. “Duke.”

“Exactly,” Barbara says, and sounds smug, like she’s just managed a checkmate against fate or circumstance or something. “As soon as he’s done with Dick, I’m sending him on quick trip to Greece. He’ll get a kick out of the plane, I think.”

Jason winces.

It won’t be easy for the newest member of the family to watch a kid being murdered, all for Jason. Worse is the fact he’s a hundred percent sure Duke’s seen worse.

Instead of voicing that thought, however, he says, “Keep me updated.”

“Will do.”

There’s a heavy silence.

“Do you want me to stay on the line?” Barbara asks after a moment. “Until Tim gets back.”

Jason’s first instinct is a snappish retort, a denial that he needs her pity.

But his hand has found its way back into his hair, tearing at the strands as he anxiously waits for the younger man to return and for all he knows, it could be anywhere from ten minutes to ten hours before he sees him again.

He shivers at the thought.

That…would be bad.

And so he clears his throat and tells Barbara in a gruff voice, “Yeah. Okay."

⁂⁂⁂

Next Chapter

[timehealsfanfictionbka]

Time Heals.....Chapter Twenty-Eight

Robyn frowned as she watched Chris climb out of his car, still fully dressed in his suit. She opened the front door just as Chris’s foot touched the top of the porch, “you drove all the way here in that?”

“Yea. I got air conditioning.”

“Yea but it’s summertime in Texas. It’s hot as hell.”

“Honestly, I was so mad when I left the courthouse I just jumped in my car and started driving. Where’s the girls?”

“Eating lunch. You want something more comfortable to be in? I think you left some clothes over here from last time.”

“Sure. I need to shower though.”

“No problem. You wanna say hi first or just go upstairs?”

“I’ll say hi then go change.”

Chris walked in and Robyn followed him to the kitchen. Chris tugged on his tie as he walked in and over to the kitchen table, “Hey Girls.”

“Hi Daddy,” they replied simultaneously.

“Did you just get here?” Erin asked.

“Yea. I’m gonna change into some cooler clothes but I’ll be back down and we can go play outside. Cool?”

They nodded their heads and Chris leaned over to kiss both of their cheeks before walking out of the kitchen. Robyn reached into a small closet and pulled out a towel and two washcloths, “you can use the girls’ bathroom. It’s next door to their bedroom. There’s lotion and some regular body wash in there.”

“Regular body wash?”

“I’m sure you don’t want to smell like Japanese Cherry Blossom or something.”

“If it means I smell like you, why not?”

Robyn rolled her eyes as she felt herself try not to smile, “stop flirting and go take a shower.”

“You like it though.”

Robyn moved behind him and gently shoved him towards the stairs, “Shower.”

Chris laughed and waved his hand, “I’m going but you still like it. I saw that smile.”

“Ugh… I can’t stand you,” Robyn walked to the kitchen and Chris continued up the stairs.

“Daddy, I can’t reach it,” Erin exclaimed as she missed another shot with the basketball. Chris caught the ball just as it missed the hoop and dribbled it in between his legs, “You need to put a little bit more power into your shot and you’ll get it. You don’t really need to reach it.”

He passed the ball back to her and she dribbled a bit before positioning herself to take another shot.

“Ok you got the right position, just throw it little harder and it should go in.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure, Sweetie, just try it. If it doesn’t work, we’ll try it again.”

Erin dribbled then shot the ball with an audible huff. It hit the backboard, spun halfway around the rim before dropping through the hoop.

“YAY! I did it!”

Chris grabbed Erin into a hug and she squeezed his neck, “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Daddy.”

“You did such a good job.”

“I wish Mommy and Erica could see it.”

“Yea, they wanna be party poopers and stay inside,” Chris replied with a glance towards the enclosed porch. Robyn and Erica were sitting at the table together.

“Daddy, can I ask you something?”

“Sure you can, Sweetheart.”

“Where’s Ms. Tiana?”

Chris sighed as he took Erin’s hand to sit at the picnic table in the grass, “well Sweetie, me and Ms. Tiana are getting divorced.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s like a break up but for married people.”

“Oh. Why?”

“Well things weren’t working out between us and we thought it was a good idea for us to not be together anymore.”

“Do you not love her anymore?”

“I do but there’s different levels of love and mine for her has changed.”

“Oh. Is it because she didn’t like us?” 

“What would make you say that?”

“She never wanted to come around and she barely spoke to us. Mama Joyce just said she wasn’t comfortable around kids but me and Erica knew it was because she didn’t like us because she didn’t like Mommy either.”

“Aww Erin, that wasn’t it. It was some adult things going on between me and Ms. Tiana and I was trying to keep it from you and your sister, that’s all. She liked you just fine.”

“You sure?”

“I’m very sure, Sweetie.”

“Ok. Can I ask you something else?”

“Sure.”

“Are you and Mommy getting back together?”

Chris twisted up his lips, “well it’s not that simple, Erin.”

“Well you like my Mommy and she likes you so you should be together.”

“Me and Mommy are friends and parents. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

“So you don’t like her?”

“Of course I like her. I love your mommy very much but we’re just friends.”

“Oh, that sucks.”

“Why you say that?”

“Because if you and Mommy got together then we could all move to your house and be under the same roof.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yea. Me and Erica were talking about it but didn’t want to say anything to Mommy because she might get upset.”

“Why would she get upset?”

“Anytime we mention you and her being together, her face gets all red.”

Chris chuckled, “it does? I don’t know if that means she’s upset though.”

“Well what else would  a red face mean?”

“It can mean a lot of different things depending on the person.”

“Oh ok. Daddy, I’m thirsty.”

“Let’s go get some water then.”

Chris grabbed Erin’s hand and then left back to the house.

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

“Chris, I’m not going,” Robyn said as she folded her arms across her chest.

“Robs, I need you.”

“No, I already told you that I want nothing to do with your drama. I am out of it.”

“Come on, Robs. I really need your help.”

“No.”

“You can’t just do the deposition?”

“Why?”

“She brought you up during our hearing and insinuated that we were together.”

Robyn groaned, “are you fucking kidding me?”

“Nope. I spoke to my lawyer and she said it’d be more solid if you explained our history in addition to me. I know Tiana’s gonna pull some bullshit and I want everything on record.”

“What happens exactly?”

“Her lawyer will sit down with both of us in separate rooms and ask us some questions relating to our relationship. Tiana is trying to get the prenup voided even though I cheated before it was even signed.”

“And why not just give her what she wants?”

“Because she’s being spiteful. I offered to assist her in her transition.”

“How?”

“Help her find a place. Help her move back to Michigan. Help her find a job. It’s not like I don’t feel bad about this but we haven’t been together in months. What the hell has she been doing since I wasn’t taking care of her? I’m not gonna kill myself financially just because her feelings are hurt. I’m not rich and what she’s asking for is way too rich for my blood.”

“I get it. In fact, what has she been doing for the past few months? She hasn’t been living with you and you haven’t been paying for anything.’

“Probably her parents. She’s not some rags to riches story, her family has always had money.”

“You never thought to ask?”

“It wasn’t at the top of the list of things for me to be worried. Besides she never made it seem like she needed anything.”

“So what exactly did she say in the hearing?”

“Her lawyer pulled out these pictures and started insinuating that we were dating.”

“What pictures?”

“I told you she had a private investigator. She got a picture from when you stayed the night a little bit ago.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yup.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I told you that she’s just being spiteful. This isn’t about her actually needing help. She just wants to be a pain in the ass.”

“Do you really need me to do this?”

“I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t. If she was willing to compromise then I’d agree but she wants to go straight for the jugular instead of having an adult conversation about this.”

Robyn sighed, “Ok. For you, I’ll do this.”

“Thank you.”

Chris reached out to hug her and Robyn playfully punched him in the side, “I always gotta rescue you from these girls. Need to learn to keep your thing in its place.”

“Oh shut up. You like saving me.”

Robyn rolled her eyes as Chris leaned down to kiss her cheek, “so what are we gonna do?”

“What you want to do? It’s early. The girls are still in practice. And we’re both off for the rest of the day.”

“I’m off for the week.”

“Why?”

“Wanted a small vacation.”

“What you gonna do for a week?”

“Relax. Clean up my house. Usual bored people shit”

Chris laughed, “we should go out Friday. Jill Scott has a show at the House of Blues Friday night.”

“And you just now telling me. I gotta get prepped and stuff.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“Yes, that’s a yes.”

“Good.”

Tiana frowned as her lawyer sat down at her desk with  two files, “so what’s going to happen?”

“Well Ms. Brown, your case isn’t as strong as we thought.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s ironclad in your prenup and it’s gonna take more than some circumstantial photos to establish infidelity.”

Tiana sighed, “and what else?”

“Both Mr. Brown and Ms. Fenty have agreed to do a disposition and lie detector test.”

“Lie detector test? I didn’t ask for that.”

“His lawyer did, to establish a baseline of honesty. Tiana, I understand you’re upset but are you sure you really wanna go through all of this for some money? The judge is gonna look at his actual income and determine alimony and I can’t guarantee you’re gonna get 2 grand a month.”

“It’s not about the money.”

“So what is the point of this?”

“He can’t get away with this.”

“Tiana, as your lawyer I’m obligated to present you with all your options and I must ask, do you really want to divorce Chris?”

“He wants a divorce.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you spoken to Mr. Brown about whether reconciling is possible?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should take advantage of the 30 days marriage counseling requirement. It was going to be waived since you both were asking for the divorce to be streamlined but maybe you should see someone first.”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me since I brought those pictures into court.”

“Oh. We can contact his attorney and see about doing mediation before we schedule another hearing. We have some flexibility because the depositions haven’t been conducted yet.”

“We can try.”

“Ok. In the meantime, I suggest you talk to someone, whether professional or family. This is not something you should be dealing with on your own.”

“I might go home to Michigan for a few days.”

“Just let me know when you are leaving and when you’ll be back. We can schedule everything around your trip.”

“Thank you.”

Tiana shook her lawyer’s hand and left her office with a heavy mind.

[fathersonholygore]

TNT’s Animal Kingdom Season 3, Episode 8: “Incoming” Directed by David Rodriguez Written by Daniele Nathanson

* For a recap & review of the previous episode, “Low Man” – click here * For a recap & review of the next episode, “Libertad” – click here Frankie (Dichen Lachman) does her job driving the medical transport truck, getting past all the necessary checkpoints. All the stuff from the back is loaded out, onto the plane along with money from an armoured transport arriving at the same time, accompanied by armed guards. This puts J (Finn Cole) and Deran (Jake Weary), inside those boxes, in there with only one man + an assault rifle. Elsewhere, Billy (Denis Leary) gets a text from Frankie to let them know the plane’s taken off. This sends him, Craig (Ben Robson), and an angry, distracted Pope (Shawn Hatosy) at the wheel, tracking the plane’s journey from the ground. When J and Deran are ready, they get out of their boxes. They get their masks on and head for the guard. At gunpoint he’s cable-tied to the frame of the plane, and then the boys take the pilot and the plane. What seemed a little weed heist at first has gradually developed into possibly the largest, most serious heist the Cody gang’s ever pulled. Then there’s Smurf (Ellen Barkin), being taken home by Dt. Pearce (Gil Birmingham). She’s having a chat with her old cop pal. And she doesn’t really like much of what he has to say. Mostly it makes her feel old and forgotten by her family. She passes it off, as she does with all the other men who try to control her life. But there’s truth in what Pearce has to say, at least a smidgen.

  “They don’t need you. I don’t think they even want you.”

Shitty times on the road with Pope and Billy. The past keeps getting dredged up. Such as young Andrew being locked in a closet while Billy went to score dope, left alone without food or water for nearly two whole days. The older of the two has lots of excuses. Although Smurf’s not without blame, despite the likely many terrible father figures and masculine influences throughout his life— and those were all trotted through by his mother, who corrupted him terribly. Nonetheless, Billy’s a shit stain of a man and a human being in general, no doubt about that one. And there’s nothing but the lads to do but wait. Up in the air, Deran and J are hard at work. Then, they’re jumping free with their loot, doing a bit of wingsuit flying. They have to “make up some distance” after missing their drop point. This winds up putting J down hard. Overall they do a decent job at, y’know, not dying. Problem is they’re “48 miles” from that drop point. Stranded in the desert, no cell reception. They bury everything, worried this detour will get them pinched by the cops. A royal fuck up. Back at the house, Smurf meets Frankie, home alone. Interesting, though, after Frankie offers to do the laundry, as well as offering up a bit of lotion for grandma’s blackened eye. She wants to help out, considering the woman’s just gotten out of prison. Might not hurt for her to be nice, either. Smurf and Billy’s history is obviously nasty. J and Deran walk until they find a small house. A woman there offers a drink, telling them it’s another 20 miles for a phone. She offers them a ride— for “ten grand.” She knows there’s something shady about these dudes showing up out there. Deran decides to show off his gun, but he’s not horrible enough to shoot a mom in front of her children. Puts them in a compromised position. On the road, Billy starts to get extremely personal with Pope. First he starts with mentioning that Pope was in “diapers until he was six.” Then he starts insinuating an incestuous relationship between mother and son. He mentions “little Pope staring” at them while they were having sex in his mom’s room. This makes Pope pull over and toss Billy to the side of the road before leaving him on his own. Smurf has herself a nice bath with essential oils to wash off the grime of prison. Then Frankie makes her a vodka-cran. They talk a bit, get slightly personal. The younger woman talks about her upbringing, though it’s fairly uncomfortable between them. And Smurf’s always sceptical, anyway. She’s never not looking for the hidden face behind the masks people put up. Later on, Pope makes the suggestion to Craig that their mom killed Baz. Younger brother doesn’t want to believe it. Their conversation’s interrupted when the woman from the desert drops Deran and J off. Nobody’s happy, it’s all fucked up a bit. Deran doesn’t dig that Billy was kicked out of the vehicle, and Pope isn’t thrilled to see some random woman on the scene. The boys have got a good setup at a high-tech security storage place. It’s all cell phone linked. That doesn’t seem totally perfect, though it’s better than regular locks in a way, I guess. They’re all splitting up the cash, also trying to figure out how much to siphon off for Billy so that he doesn’t turn up heat on them. Afterwards, Pope brings up Lena’s “cut.” He thinks Baz is being forgotten. Everybody agrees he isn’t, so they make sure to set some aside for his daughter. Once it’s all settled, Billy is back at the bar trying to divide the brothers further, telling Deran not to do more jobs with Pope. He’s glad to hear about the huge score. Only he’ll want his pay, and I’ve got a feeling he’s not going to be chill about it. A junkie like him isn’t the right person to have done a job with them, not this size. Could definitely mean trouble. Plus, now he and everybody else are discovering something bigger: Smurf is out of prison.

  “That hurt?” “Only when I look at it”

A sketchy reunion, after J, Pope, and Craig find Smurf in the kitchen cooking. Creepy kisses from mom/grandma, too. Lots of those unsettling incestuous undertones, now directed at J. Her old toy, Pope, gets a less warm greeting, as her son keeps questioning whether she had something to do with the death of Baz. Billy claims, to Deran, he tried taking him to Reno years before, running away together. He says Smurf “called the feds” and then the deal was that Billy had to leave, never come back, then there’d be no charges. Most certainly a bullshit slice of history from a thieving, deceiving junkie like him. An attempt to wedge more divide between the brothers. Back home, the family’s having dinner. Like old times. Just with plenty of new resentments and anger. Smurf can’t wait to see her old flame Billy, probably waiting to kick his ass. She’s asking about how things have been, including where Nicky (Molly Gordon) went, and so on. Plenty of shitty stories to share around the supper table! A fantastic episode that brings the darkness back up another big notch going forward. Can’t wait to see what happens next with Smurf out of the can. Especially re: her + Pope. Gonna get interesting, and wild. “Incoming” is next time.

Animal Kingdom – Season 3, Episode 8: “Incoming” TNT's Animal Kingdom Season 3, Episode 8: "Incoming" Directed by David Rodriguez Written by Daniele Nathanson…

[extraterrestrialmasquerade]

Xogue’s Letter

Transmission Sent from Pyronian Homeworld to C’rululian Homeworld.

Hello C’Etherax,

I imagine I should be telling you this in person.  But I don’t know when that will be and well…as you know I can’t leave things undone.  I’ve never been one to wait.

First off, I am sorry for racing the night before the mission.  It was stupid of me, I know.  If I had gotten hurt then that would have prevented me from providing psionic back up during the raid, and I am aware that the Major may have chosen to just cancel the mission instead of doing a last minute switch.  It was stupid.  I know.

I am not upset that you yelled at me.  I am upset that you insinuated that I am a part of the Empire’s StarForce solely for the adrenalin.  It’s not true.   And well…I guess the best way to start is at the beginning.   When I was four years old I first started manifesting what my people call Silver Fever.  On Pyronia it is believed that to be born under a triple full moon is bad luck.  Or to be conceived under a triple full moon.  Or to have your first in utero kick under a triple full moon.  Or to sneeze under a….okay I am making the last one up.  Anyhow Silver Fever is so named because it is believed to be caused by lunar interference.  I know its hard for you, who were born and raised in the Empire, to understand that.  But on Pyronia…education levels are low.  People think differently.  

I remember when I was four I was always buzzing around in at the Meeting of the Youth.  I hated standing still.  I also loved textures.  I had to touch everything.  Smooth.  Rough.  Heavy.  Light.  Slimy.  Dry.  Sticky.  Smooth.  They all fascinated me.  Then randomly on certain days I couldn’t stand to touch anything.  And, well, on the order and honor loving culture I was born in, this could cause…conflicts.  One of the Youth Trainers beat me.  I got kicked out of one Meeting for fighting.  I wasn’t trying to be violent.  I just got caught up in running and jumping and was so well..caught in the moment I couldn’t tell that the child I was roughhousing with wasn’t having fun with me. My reversals on wanting to touch everything one day and nothing the next were seen as insubordination.

  I remember Uncle Zar coming over to my families house and I would be told “Run Xogue-re and play with your sister.”  “-re” is is a term of endearment on our world, but when its said with a certain tone by your parents you know you are clandestinely being given an order.

   Eventually things got so bad that they, at Uncle Zar’s prompting, were planning on doing an antennae-rectomy.  You see the biological cause of Silver Fever is an imbalance in how our antennae relate to the rest of our nervous system. The brain expects more neural input then the antennae can give.  The running, jumping texture exploring is all a way (even though we don’t realize it) to give neural feedback so that the brain feels like it is getting the stimulation we should get.

   Sometimes when you aren’t able to move/jump/ride like your body wants to do it feels like you are about to be tickled but the tickle never comes.  Other times it feels like a deep restlessness.  Sometimes it is just feels like a deep sadness.  I don’t know why it manifests the different ways it does.  In my community the sorts of over the job athleticism we want to manifest is seeing as uncouth and even a threat to the family image.   Cutting of the antennae convinces the brain that it should be receiving no input, thus correcting the problem.  The side effects are life-long imbalance, the loss of any psionic gifts and life-long head pain.  C’therax, I loved the high of climbing up the rocks over the cool mist of the ocean.  I loved jumping from the trees to the icy river.  I loved it when I snuck out on my good Uncle Rey’s motorcycle and felt the wind in my antennae…that was life for me.  And the thought of that sharp blade cutting me, that I could only be a part of the community if part of my being was compromised…that was too much.  So I ran out.  And I even left a small prank ooze bomb behind in my room.  I was young and angry.  I guess I just wanted to leave one last invective behind at the family who hated me.  

I lived as a lone wolf.  I would take odd jobs.  And even a few…undignified…ones.  I would steel occasionally.  I would participate frequently in illegal street races.  I had a strong track record.  It gave me some cash to live on.  And then one day a competitor switched out the oil in my engine.  It was a clever formula.  For half the race my motorcycle ran just fine.  Then half way through I could smell the burning and it smelled like a cross between vomit and roadkill.  For my extrasensory senses it broke my concentration.  When the engine gave out I didn’t have the wits to handle the out of control machine.  I slid and crashed into the window of an apartment building and the bike landed on a man there.  

I was dragged to court.  My family, dishonored by what I was didn’t show up.  Accept for my bad Uncle Zar who offered to let me off if I were to become a servant(?) (I am not sure what the word for it would be in your language) for him.  I spat in his face.  By the time a police officer drove us apart I had severely damaged one of his eyes.  Neither my Uncle nor the officer pressed charges.  The officer refrained because he saw my uncle was a repulsive creature and as for my Uncle…let’s just say he didn’t want the threat of shame if there was no…benefits shall we say?…from being involved. Besides my uncle thought I was going to rot in jail anyway.  

The victim of the accident was in critical condition at the hospital and I found out we were a blood match which for our species means we are likely to be a match as well. I volunteered on the condition, and I know this will sound weird, that my donation be anonymous.  Yes, it occurred to me that if I saved the man’s life the judge might be moved for a lighter sentence.  But I didn’t want a lighter sentence.  I hated my self.  I hated my silver fever.  I hated my life on the road.  I hated not having a family.  I wanted to suffer to, rot in prison to never see the sun set.  So I gave an organ and planed for the man never to find out that I had donated it.  

Well before my trial I saw one of the nurses walk up to him and whisper in his ear.  At the trials opening he petitioned the judge for the trial to be delayed one week.  It was the longest week of my life.  When the trial resumed the man took the stand and said he had spent the week meditation upon the Immutable and recommended that I me let off “for reasons that are my own.”

And to my shock and horror the judge granted me amnesty.  The word of my donation got out.  The newspaper reporters flooded the courthouse like vultures.  I was the topic of every social media outlet on that planet and all of its moons.  Our story was an example of forgiveness and restoration.  And oddly all this made me angry.  The world had hated me when was on the streets.  It had hated me when I was a young child struggling to understand the gift and curse of silver fever.  But now after I had fallen to my lowest point, it wanted to parade me online next to the videos of cute animals and cheap DIY projects.  It wanted to be inspired by me provided that I had no needs in return and just smiled and said the things the reporters wanted to hear.  

I guess I should thank them though.  There is a military base of the Empire’s StarForce near that courthouse.  And one of the captains had Silver Fever.  He came to me and offered me a life that would be anonymous (should I wish) and give me a chance to get away and start again and even to do some good.  So I wrote a letter to the man who had let me off, thanking him and entered into the squad.  After fighting for four years and rising rapidly through the ranks I chose to be a public bounty hunter.  That brought fame yes, but it is a fame that I earned, not the result of feeling like I am in a zoo.  And I always tell the story of how my antennae were almost cut off.  Had that happened I would have lost my psionic powers and my sense of balance.  My whole career would not have been possible.  The reason why I race, why I crave the death defying stunts is not solely for fame and adrenalin C’Therax.  I can’t deny that the adrenalin makes the pain I still feel go away.  But I also know that there are Pyronian kids out there like me.  Who need to run constantly.  Who need push their psionics farther then other kids feel the need to.  Who crave adrenalin, who are addicted to it and who want to know if they are just freaks or if there personality profile can be channeled into something good.  So I collect bounties for the military and I run races.  I want to show the world that Silver Fever is not something to be ashamed of, that it can be controlled.  That it can, if used properly, be a force for good.

I am writing this to you because I believe that you will be the person to make the final decision on whether I am on the scouting mission to Earth.  I know I can be a loose canon C’therax but so can you.  And I want you to know that I serve this military with honor, and I would be honored to fight along side you on this most historic of missions.  This is who I am C’therax.  Whether you believe this letter is reason to accept or deny me, at least I can say that I said my piece.  

[artificialqueens]

Just Tonight (#5) Shalaska - Babe

AN: Alrighty, here’s chapter 5 and after some consideration, I’m gonna end this at chapter 12. So we’re almost halfway there and I’ve planned exactly what’s going to happen. Also I’ve made a lil sideblog @aqbabe where I might post stuff so follow me idk.  As always, thank you for the beautiful feedback xoxo

“Truth or dare? What are we, 12?” Jinkx muttered as Sharon poked her tongue out at her best friend. The redhead looked down at her phone at gasped at the time, not exactly sure where it went.

“It’s getting kinda late,” she said as she stood up, Ivy jumping up with her. “It was lovely to finally meet you, Alaska. Kinda nice to meet the girl that Sharon doesn’t shut up about.” Ivy agreed with a giggle as Sharon’s pale cheeks started turning red.

“Fuck off, the both of you,” the rocker replied as the girls quickly left the apartment. Alaska waved as they left, happy to finally have Sharon all to herself.

“What can we do now?” Sharon asked, drawing out her words slightly.

“I have an idea,” Alaska replied cheekily, crashing their lips together. Sharon smirked into the kiss as she pushed the other girl back onto the couch.

“I like your ideas.”

—————————–

The next day, Alaska sat at Sharon’s dining table, typing furiously into her laptop while Sharon absentmindedly strummed her guitar. Before Alaska had arrived last night, Sharon and Jinkx had talked about writing more music instead of playing just covers, something that stressed her out a tad. It wasn’t that she didn’t think that she was creative, but she was really good at playing other people’s music. Call her unoriginal, but it was the truth in her eyes.

“Why is song writing so hard?” Sharon cursed, Alaska looking up from her assignment at the sound of the other’s voice. “It’s as if everything’s already been done before.”

“I mean, you wrote that other song and that wasn’t hard, was it?” Alaska questioned, another question popping into her mind as she shut the laptop and moved to sit next to Sharon on the couch. “What exactly was that song about?”

“What, Just Tonight? Firstly, I was really high at the time. Secondly, I was thinking about all the hook-ups in my life when it’s just been all about sex or drugs or no commitment. I wrote it because if I wondered if someone actually knew who I really am, would they stay or would they leave? Or would I stay now knowing that I had handed over my vulnerability. I spent a lot of time blaming people for leaving but it was really my fault, and that’s kinda what the song’s about. Now that’s I’ve been in that situation, I’m not going to leave, I promise.” She placed the guitar to the side as she pulled Alaska onto her lap, kissing her forehead tenderly.

“You know, it’s kinda our song,” Alaska mused, a content smile on her face. After all, it was the song that sucked her in not once, but twice. It had some serious power over her but the blonde wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Kinda messed up song to be ours, if you think about it,” Sharon replied with a small shrug. “A song that’s about falling in love over hedonistic pleasures and then leaving to save yourself. I don’t want to be saved if it means leaving you.” Her lips met Alaska’s briefly, the older girl pulling away as an idea popped into her head. “How about I teach you to play?”

Alaska crinkled up her nose in reply, a giggle escaping her lips. “I’ve tried before, I might just stick to piano.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” Sharon insisted as she picked up a capo (which Alaska likened to a large hairclip) and her discarded guitar. “I’ll teach you something easy, three chords and I’ll strum. Jinkx and I worked on this last night, it just needs lyrics.” Alaska sighed and sat fully on Sharon’s lap as the other girl placed the guitar in her hands. She gently positioned Alaska’s fingers into the right shapes, explaining the names as she went.

“Okay, so hold the G chord for two lots of eight, then the Dm for one and the Cmaj7 for one,” Sharon explained patiently as she wrapped her arm around tighter to reach the strings. When she started strumming, music filled the room and Alaska’s eyes lit up, a part of her wanting to squeal in accomplishment but feeling connected to the music.

“Do you have lyrics for this?” Alaska asked after a while, turning to face Sharon. The blonde shook her head sadly.

“Unfortunately, Jinkx and I have been working on it,” Sharon sighed, but Alaska leapt off of her lap and grabbed her laptop excitedly.

“I have a poem that I think would go well with the music, but it’s kinda mushy and personal, so get ready for that,” Alaska rambled, making Sharon giggle.

“Anything you write is probably amazing, Princess,” she smirked, listening stoically when Alaska started reciting the lyrics, she instantly knew it was about her parents’ divorce and how that affected the younger girl, but the way that it continued showed that it was also about Sharon, and how meeting her was a game changer for Alaska. It was lovely to think that silly old her could change someone as extraordinary as Alaska, make her open to love again, but it made her fall for the other girl just a little more. When Alaska was done, Sharon clapped and they spent the next hour fitting the poem into Sharon’s music, arguing over wording but finding a compromise at every turn.

“We’ve got no chorus, half a bridge and no outro,” Alaska sighed as she brought over two cups of coffee from the kitchen. Placing one gingerly on the coffee table for Sharon, she sipped at hers slowly as the cogs in Sharon’s mind kept turning.

“For the outro, I like the line you said about believing, it leaves the song on a positive note,” Sharon replied wistfully as Alaska put down her coffee and pencilled in the line. “As for the bridge, we’ve kinda left it by saying that they’re a realist who wants to believe again. Maybe the other person is exactly the same and might leave. Maybe the protagonist wants the other person to leave them proof that what they’re feeling and experiencing is all real.” Alaska spent five minutes rewording Sharon’s idea and fitting it in with the structure, leaving them with only one more thing to do.

“Now, the chorus,” Alaska said, but all that Sharon could do was cheekily grin. “What?”

“You’ve already done that part,” she replied as she looked at the original poem on the laptop. “Look how you’ve written a sentence between every verse of poem to link it together. That should be the chorus. Repeat the line four times and we’re done.”

Alaska looked down at the line. You are the only exception. At first, it didn’t fit to her, but now, it was perfect.

———————–

Sharon and Alaska had played through the song a couple times to make sure it was perfect when there was a sharp knock at the door. Neither of them was expecting anyone but Sharon still stood up and answered the door, despite her still being in her pyjamas at 2 in the afternoon.

“Dee!” she exclaimed happily as Alaska looked over her shoulder at the girl. She had bright yellow hair and the same shade of eyebrows and her makeup was bright and colourful. Her clothing was quite fashionable and it suddenly made Alaska feel underdressed in the flannel that she borrowed from Sharon. “Where the hell were you last night?”

“I’m so sorry, my darling,” Dee replied, her voice not sounding sorry to Alaska but that was beside the point. “Rox and I had date night and you know how she gets when I blow it off.” From where she was sitting, she caught a brief eye roll from Sharon as she stood up from the couch. “Shaz, who’s this?”

“Dee, this is Alaska,” Sharon introduced, getting excited every time she could introduce Alaska to one of her friends. They shook hands awkwardly. “Alaska, this is Detox, but we all call her Dee.”

“Is your name actually Detox?” Alaska blurted out, causing the yellow haired girl to laugh.

“Of course not, but I hate my real name so everyone around here calls me Dee. You must be the elusive Alaska that Sharon doesn’t shut up about.” Alaska looked to Sharon who shrugged.

“I can’t help it, you fascinate me,” the older girl replied as her arm snaked around Alaska’s waist. Their lips met passionately for a moment until she heard Dee clear her throat next to them.

“Anyways, I thought I’d stop around quickly and check to see what I missed in band meeting last night, but by the looks of it, not much,” Detox winked, causing Alaska to blush. Sharon, however, answered calmly, not fazed by the insinuation.

“You didn’t miss much, except Jinkx and I wrote a new song and Alaska helped with the lyrics, you wanna hear it?” Dee nodded as she perched on the couch, Alaska noting that the colours looked out of place in Sharon’s mostly black apartment. Alaska sang as Sharon played. The girls couldn’t help but make eye contact during the song, especially since a lot of Alaska’s lyrics were directed at Sharon. When it was over, Dee raised an eyebrow, her words breaking Alaska and Sharon out of their spell.

“Well, that sure was something.”

————————–

“I’m so confused, Adore,” Alaska confessed as she recounted to her friend the details of what had happened over the past two days. The dorm room was completely theirs for the night, something that she needed after leaving Sharon and having to go to work. She was tired, but so many pieces of the puzzle didn’t fit in her mind. “Sharon is so amazing. She says the right things and means them, she knows exactly where to touch me, she knows everything about me, the sex is amazing and we made the most amazing song today. Why am I still so afraid?”

“You’re afraid of it because your parents’ marriage didn’t work out and you don’t want to be hurt by love. A lot of kids our age face it. You just need to separate your memories and feelings from the ones we’ve been taught. From the sounds of it, you’re crazy about Sharon and she seems to be feeling the same way. Just admit it to yourself – you love her, and then tell her. Don’t be trapped in this spiral.”

Alaska’s mind turned for a while, knowing that Alaska was completely right. Things might end badly but how would she know if she never tried? In that moment, she decided that she was going to tell Sharon she loved her the next chance she got.

“Are you high or something? Because your advice is really on point tonight,” Alaska remarked, looking over at her friend who was in bed, reading a book. Adore never read, something that shocked the blonde greatly.

“Nah, but I am super tired, let’s sleep.”

“Alright, goodnight.”

Alaska didn’t sleep for a long time, instead Adore’s words played over and over in her head until she could memorise them and say them backwards. Another phrase played over in her mind, one that she didn’t think she’d ever say but she was completely and fully ready to say them out loud.

I love you Sharon.

[adultsec]

Learn to learn.

Currently processing this information, in my noggin: 

I'm not sure how to phrase this, so I hope it makes sense...

I'm in love with the idea of capturing what kind of person someone is. I have been very inside my head as a kid, and sort of muted that quality as I began parenting. As a young adult, I lived in a reality where I knew people didn't love someone fully unless you offered something, so it made sense to me not to question much more than what was said to me. It’s not in my nature to do this, so it was a real struggle to not let my thoughts get the best of me. I’m a very loving, and direct person, I don’t expect a lot, just respect, so it’s been a challenge for me to feel fully loved as I grew up because people always seemed to have a personal agenda, from family, friends, and even through marriage.

I've learned after a few changes in life (divorce, and living on my own) that it's important to keep growing, personally. I don't know how many people really live in their heads and put on a facade for others, but I know I do. From acting formal at work, to being extra sarcastic with friends, we tend to do these things naturally. It's a thrill for me to be able to watch and learn from people. I thrive when I can ask someone why they chose to do something, solely so I can see their point of view, especially when they are open and honest about their intentions. 

I’ve been to therapy, I’ve been to religious counseling, and the common trend is that they offer you new alternatives to aid you in daily challenges. They can offer a new approach towards meeting people, or even a new way of talking to others. The idea is that they don’t have all the answers, but they have a multitude of theories that they can present to you, and as a willing participant, ideally, you’d try these on the next occasion the issue presents itself to you in hopes to soothe said interaction. 

I get to share these inquisitive thoughts with a partner now who processes things similarly to me. We wonder what type of goals people might have, how they probably aren't self aware, and if they are, why do they choose to do certain things. As a member of a lot of social media groups, I can say that people have a common issue across all platforms, which is lack of communication. It’s amazing the issues people can have due to expecting their partner, family member, or even friend, to do “the right thing”. The “right thing” though, is illusive, because if you never directly tell someone you expect certain things from them, they never will be able to meet your expectations. It’s easy to think, well I’ve told them, but again, from this angle, most people just insinuate it. Hardly going into detail about their goals and dreams, people set the bar high for a partner to be able to fulfill their life goals alongside them, when in fact, they may too be on a whole different road map. 

People are amazing, even in their flaws, a flaw actually isn't even the right word, because a flaw to me, isn't likely a flaw to you. (See? Constantly learning, even from my own thoughts) 

Let’s, try that one again: 

People are amazing in their own way, if more people saw others as a learning opportunity, more people would understand that group-think actually silos you from really opening your mind to other points of views, it stops you from understanding the human (heart felt) motives of the other parties. Group think creates this idea that anyone thinking opposite of you is the enemy, and you move forward thinking this the moment you see certain trending topics, you unleash your group-think fire at the opposing team. This, though, is where we can gravely lose an opportunity to learn, we’re not taking the time to humanize the opposing team, and asking them why they feel so passionate. A lot of times, both parties are too focused on their own ideology to even be willing to talk reasonably at all, it’s sad to see. 

The anatomy of a human is very similar across the board, so why do we treat each other as if someone was below or above someone, equally, none of us really know what we’re doing. The need to belong is higher than the need to learn, that's my own opinion. It's a tragedy to go out there into social media and voice an idea just so someone can feel completely fine, telling you it’s not okay, insulting you even, solely because it’s not part of their own personal thought process, or belief. At times people decide to block me completely because I don't agree, and other times, solely for questioning their thought process. It's something I do as a people watcher, I enjoy saying things that I think are logical in my mind to be of service in ways where it's outside of the norm for others, but that scares people, it enrages them. 

I love poking holes into people's ideas, I wish there were more people to talk to this way, we could use the extra words of wisdom to maybe show us sympathy or even a healthy banter where no one gets upset. The idea of talking to someone who grew up with completely different habits, is actually exciting for me, to others, the difference, or even the plainness scares them. A white male can’t voice their opinion because per popular opinion, they don’t have the right to say anything because the minorities have more say. A feminist has the full right to say a that men are oppressors, a pro-life person can bash on religion, there’s a lot of back and forth, I do see that, but it’s for attacking purposes. 

If for instance, a feminist could tell us why she’s feeling oppressed, then maybe men could input and say, hey, we can do this to work together, but in an ideal situation, we’d see the two work together, and not insult. 

Side note: This to me would be the perfect idea of a woman fighting for women, actually allowing men to speak so we can then give men a chance to say if they did these things on purpose or just by accident, and work towards a compromise. That’s just me idealizing that group-think is completely tossed out the window and the trend was actually to learn from one another. 

The same idea would go for so many topics, and in a learning-based community, we’d have the ability to sit, and listen, not jump in and interrupt at the sound of an “opposing” word. Maybe, if we fully listen, we’ll realize we agree on just enough, to make things right with each group, compromising towards a solution, or closer to one. Evolution is key, we have to accept that people are ever changing, we develop rapidly, but we should strive to develop and learn from each other, people who work together thrive in much faster speeds than people constantly stopping one another to insult. 

Being questioned isn't an insult, the insults are in the idea that you won't listen to a new opinion because you're right. Science is factual, until you learn something new about the topic, then we consider it, evolving. Emotions can at times play a trick on us, so, combining facts, and understanding peoples feelings, could increase the chance of everyone contributing to new healthy ideas, or goals. The moment we accept we don't know everything, it's when you can start challenging yourself to constructively participate in helping others, even to let them see a new light. Helping someone capture a new idea, outside of the norm, will drop the seed (hopefully) in their mind of new perspectives when this topic/challenge comes along. Especially if you’re a friend, it’s okay to question others on why they feel so strong about something, once they get mad, or offended, all we can do is simply excuse ourselves and say it wasn’t meant to upset them, but more so to see things their way and learn. 

Social media is a great way of getting into a battle of who's right and wrong. I see social media, like a lot of the internet, as a place to freely question everything, and challenge people with new ideas from the "traditional" way of thinking. More often than not, I experience people blocking me for suggesting some of the personal things I’ve done in the past to try and thrive through a personal challenge, and they find me insensitive. Solely by offering a new way of approaching their issue, people have a hard time accepting there are other ways, most people welcome becoming a victim of sorts. Most of the comments we see on many social media channels involve self loathing, or even enable more of the self destructive behavior by supporting the idea that being a victim is okay. 

Personal experience: It sounds odd, but people do this, for instance on posts where folks get divorced, there is often a partner who wants to use their kids against the other parent to make their ex suffer. Most people participating in the comments of these topics end up saying things to agree, or to say how much more creative you can be in your schemes. People tend to move with emotions more so than logic, especially in a group regarding divorce, it’s normal. The idea for me, is to comment something constructive about maybe seeking therapy so you dont feel the need to argue, or to point out the obvious, the children's best interest, and people tend to really get frustrated with my different tone, because they feel as if I’m attacking or judging. 

Learning how we as people cope to move through life is never ending. It’s a part of me I’ve always tried to improve on, from interviews to making friends. I always seek to be better at handling loss, and facing bullies. The internet more now than ever gives you the chance to spread your thoughts or learn from great studies, my goal, what I’m in control of... is to keep giving others ideas on how to do more for themselves, for self awareness and growth. People learn from you, believe it or not, what are you teaching people? 

-Abi 2018

[shiroe-is-my-baby]

Just One Day

Summary: A full day of doing nothing has Shiroe in for the time of his life

W: self-insert, fluff, slight angst near the end (but a happy ending don’t worry :3)

Leaning my chin on the top of Shiroe’s head, I clicked my tongue impatiently. “Why not, Shiroe?” I asked with a low whine. The man refused to come and hang out with me. I was feelin extremely bored, but he was too focused to care. I felt irritated that every day I had to literally force him to spend some time with me. It was backbreaking to get him out the door.

“Not right now, Ashley. Just give me a few more minutes.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“No you’re not.”

He sighed loudly, glancing up at me. I pursed my lips, letting my fingers slip through his hair. I was trying to come up with a compromise. Something to help us both get what we want. He obviously didn’t want to leave this spot, and I wanted to have his full attention. There had to be something I could do. Something that he’d agree to.

A way that he and I could both be happy.

But I could also help give him a break.

“How about this,” I started as I leaned against the table, “I’ll leave you alone for today, and tomorrow you spend the whole day with me. Doing absolutely nothing.”

The look on his face was humorous. In fact, I almost laughed out loud at the peak of his eyebrows. Was that request too much of him? It seemed like it by the way he hesitated in answering.

“Nothing? I don’t know if I-”

“Come on, Shiroe! Don’t tell me that being lazy is that bad?! Everyone needs a break every once in a while.”

“It’s not that. I just-”

“Don’t say anything. Just tell me yes or no. I really want to spend time with you. Please, just let me have a whole day where I can spoil you.”

“Why do you want to do that?” He asked, tilting his head.

I smiled, leaning forward to give him a soft peck on the forehead. He blushed bright, muscles stiffening in slight surprise. Shiroe didn’t understand my need to be with him. He didn’t understand how much I wanted to give him all of my attention. He didn’t need constant acceptance like I did. He was fine with subtle chatter every once in a while, and the alone time we get at night when he actually comes to bed.

But I wanted more.

He and I both deserved more. I wanted to give him everything. I wanted him to know how much I cared about him. Not only that, but he was my best friend. Someone who I always wanted to be around and wanted to talk to about everything. My problems and my thoughts and my hopes. I felt like lately we didn’t have that connection.

But that could have just been my anxiety and worries.

I found myself speaking before I could think about it. I grinned, “Because you deserve it!” Shiroe’s blush darkened, and he found that he had nothing more to say. He knew that I wouldn’t leave until he agreed. Slowly, he nodded his head, giving me a weak ‘okay’.

Smiling wider, I leaned down and pecked his lips softly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, cutie,” I said with a wink. He swallowed, nodding his head and giving me an even weaker goodbye. I giggled, waving as I quickly jogged out of the room, giving him space.

The entire day I felt on top of the world, and excited for tomorrow. I told everyone how thrilled I was that I’d finally get a whole day without any distractions. I even made Shiroe tell everyone not to bother him unless it was extremely important. Everyone was obviously happy for me, but a few gave me looks that insinuated that we were doing more than just hanging out.

But it wasn’t about that.

It was just about us. Spending time together and being by ourselves.

The next day, I woke up with a smile on my face. I couldn’t stop my heart from beating incredibly fast in my chest. When I saw Shiroe, I immediately laced my fingers through his own and pulled him close. “Hey,” I said with a grin, “You ready for the funniest day of your life?” He laughed, squeezing my hand gently

“I’m a little nervous, but yeah. I guess so.”

“Don’t be nervous. Today it’s all about you and me. But mostly you.”

Poking his nose, I pulled him down the hallway all while he followed cautiously. I didn’t have a huge day planned. Mostly because the plan was to relax. He needed a day to himself, and I needed alone time. It was the greatest compromise that he wouldn’t even knew he needed.

The first part of the day I sat him down on the warm grass outside, finding a perfect shaded spot underneath a tree. He furrowed his brows, watching him pull out two sandwiches and hand one to him. I winked, nestling beside him as the two of us leaned against the tree.

“I made us a nice little snack to start the day,” I said.

“Th-Thanks…”

Shiroe blushed slightly, quickly hiding behind a calm smile. I giggled, lying my head on his shoulder. The two of us ate quietly together, enjoying the peaceful air around us. It was the perfect image to start the day. Shiroe seemed to enjoy it, his arm wrapped around my waist securely as he started to relax. I hoped that he wasn’t thinking about anything else other than how beautiful the scenery was.

I lifted my eyes, leaving soft peck against his cheek. I could feel the warmth radiating from him, and he shifted a little underneath my touch. Giggling softly, I nestled my face into the crook of his neck. I breathed in his scent, brushing my nose and then my lips against his skin.

Shiroe swallowed, sputtering softly under his breath. “I-I-Is this all you had planned for today?” He asked, “N-Not that I’m complying. It’s… nice.” I giggled again, this time at his cuteness. There was so much that I wanted to say and do. But I had all day to do it. Right now, all I could think about was cuddling with him and enjoying this nice day.

“I have some more things planned. This is just the beginning.”

I winked, seeing the redness growing on his face. He needed to stop thinking so much. It wasn’t like I had planned to ravish him. Although, that thought was temping. I chuckled at the thought, pulling Shiroe down onto the ground. The two of us laid on our backs, looking up at the sky above. He seemed nervous, his breath hitching a bit as he slowly relaxed into the grass.

I shifted a little closer, finding his hand and lacing my fingers through it. “You know,” I said, “Sometimes when I’m feeling stressed I like to look up at the sky and just watch the clouds roll by. Maybe count them or try to make shapes out of them.” My eyes observed the sky as I spoke, feeling Shiroe’s eyes on the. I smiled, glancing over at him to catch him in the act. He quickly looked away, pursing his lips.

“Have you ever done anything like that?” I asked.

“Y-Yeah… I don’t think I have recently.”

“Well, now you have an excuse to.”

I winked again, watching him quickly look away yet again. I might have been slowly killing him with my looks and teasing. It’s hard not to fluster him. Especially when it’s this easy. Shiroe is too adorable when he blushes. Its hard not to roll over and kiss him right now.

Later, I kept telling myself.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

Shiroe and I laid there for a while, watching the sky. Time slowly got away from us, and I almost felt myself dozing off a couple of times. When I saw a cloud that looked special, I’d point it out to him and listen to him laugh. He always thought it looked different.

Then, he’d go off on a tangent about something and I’d roll over to listen. I loved watching his face when he spoke, looking at his eyes. At one point he saw my grin, furrowing his brows curiously.

“What? Was I rambling?”

“No, I’m sorry. I just… love watching you talk. It’s nice to see you like this. Your eyes don’t look so intense.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it. I laughed, teasing him about having no comment. “You can’t disagree, because you know I’m right,” I said with a wink. He shook his head, although his look told me that I had hit the mark.

“Don’t sweat it though. I still love you, even when you give me that intimidating look.”

“Some might say that’s a bad thing,” He said.

“Yeah, yeah. And those people don’t know you like I do.”

I smiled, seeing his blush return to his face. Biting my lip, I noticed how our gazes lingered for a moment. I really wanted to kiss him now. The moment was calling for it. But I couldn’t do it. Not unless he pulled me close and made the first move. I promised that I would make this whole day about him. Not about me.

Slowly sitting up, I heard the grass shift beside me as Shiroe sat up with me. It was my turn to swallow and stiffen, feeling his hand on my chin. He slowly pulled me up, pressing his lips softly against my own. It was a quick kiss, but it shook me to the bone. I wished that I could taste him just a bit longer.

When we parted, I saw the soft smile on his lips. He patted my hand, shifting my hair behind my ear. “So… what else do you have planned for me?” He asked, raising and eyebrow. It looked like he was getting into the spirit after all.

For the next part of the day, I took him inside and made us some tea. Then, we sat on the couch together and cuddled underneath a blanket. Although, before we did that I gave him a quick massage. He wasn’t expecting it, and that was the best part. Hearing his soft groans of approval was amazing. Occasionally he’d chirp and jump if I found a spot that hurt a little more than others. For the most part, he was comfortable and relaxed.

My hands worked out the tenseness in his shoulders, laughing when he let out small sounds every once in a while. I pressed a little harder, feeling how his muscles slowly relaxed. I pressed a kiss to his temple, rounding the couch and plopping down beside him.

“How was that, love?”

“Great. Thanks. I didn’t… think you were that good at giving massages.”

He laughed nervously, rubbing his neck that I had worked on for a bit. I smiled gingerly, pulling the blanket around the two of us. “I try my best,” I said with a smirk, “Only the best for my Shiroe.” He smiled, slowly wrapping his arm around my waist. I draped my legs over his lap, getting as close to him as possible.

The day wasn’t over yet, but I still felt like I hadn’t given Shiroe the full treatment yet. I wanted to spoil him. Give him everything he wanted and more. But something still didn’t feel right. I felt like I wasn’t giving him everything. That I was lacking in some way.

“Shiroe… have you had fun today?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’ve had a great time with you. I was a little nervous, but I’m… happy that you would do all of this for me. It means a lot.”

“You mean that? Have I really done that much for you?”

Shiroe nodded, his eyebrows furrowing when he saw the look on my face. I tried to bury my face in his neck, but he quickly pulled me back to look him in the eye. I didn’t want to ruin the moment. I wanted this day to be perfect.

“What’s wrong? Are you not having fun?” He asked.

“No! Of course I am! I just… I feel like you deserve more. That I could be doing more for you.”

“What are you talking about? Today’s been perfect. You’ve given me everything I could have asked for.”

“Really?” I asked, feeling my throats closing up and tears stinging my eyes.

Shiroe nodded, holding the side of my face. His thumb ran across my cheekbone, eyes boring into my own. The smile on his face warmed my heart. “Ashley, all I could ever want is to be with you,” He said. My heart felt heavy in that moment. Hearing those words from him was surprising. I wasn’t expecting it, and I definitely didn’t take that into consideration.

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, tears starting to flow down my cheeks. Shiroe immediately brushed them away, eyes softening at the sight of them. He pulled the blanket tighter around us, pulling me closer until I was in his lap. Our foreheads touched, resting against each other’s. I could feel his breath on my face as he thought over his next few words.

“You did all you could to make me happy. I don’t know why you’d be so sweet to me, but… it means so much to me that you care that much about me.”

“I love you, Shiroe. I’d do anything for you. I just wanted to be with you. You’ve been so busy lately and I miss you. So much.”

“I know,” He said, his hand finding mine, “I’m sorry I’m so distant. You’re the one who deserves every ounce of my attention.”

I giggled, smiling softly at his words. Shiroe squeezed my hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it softly. His thumb brushed across my knuckles affectionately, while his opposite hand brushing hair behind my ear. I pursed my lips, looking into his eyes as I sniffed back my tears.

“I promise I’ll be around more often. As long as you promise not to think so badly about yourself anymore,” He said, “Because you’re perfect.”

I blushed, biting my bottom lip as giggles surface once again.

“I can’t promise that, but… I can try.”

“Good,” He said, smiling.

He slowly pulled me down onto his lip, softly kissing my lips and my worries away. Shiroe had been right about everything. I sold myself short. He was enjoying everything I was doing, even if I didn’t think so. It was all me and my anxiety. He had reassured me of that fact.

The rest of the day, I wasn’t worried about whether or not he was enjoying my company. I stopped caring about that. It was all about enjoying the time spent with him. Even as the sun fell and the moon rose, we never left each other’s side. The smiles never left our lips. It was the perfect day. Just us two. Completely in love and completely smitten.