#so there's no one who knows enough about how long or hard I've been wrangling with this to celebrate with me

[gay-ppl-real]

So happy for something I probably can't explain but I'm gonna try anyway lmao

Had a food order today, and when they arrived it was chucking it down. So I broke my Dealing With The Delivery Person Scripts (TM) to tell them they could come into our tiny front room for shelter while I unpacked the groceries & brought them back the crate.

Anyway it's no biggie, right? "You can come in out the rain". Easy to say, easy to think of, nothing special.

but the thing is I am, as I've mentioned a couple times on here, selectively mute. Talking to strangers terrifies me, and I cling to pre-planned scripts to navigate situations with people I'm not close with. Usually, if I leave the scripts, communication becomes very difficult for me, and I'm stuttery and muddled and anxious as hell, and that's if I MANAGE. Most of the time trying just pushes me to a panic attack or shut down, because, y'know, the whole thing with selective mutism is that you physically cannot talk.

"You can come in out the rain" is not part of my scripts. I managed to break my scripts to be just a little bit nicer to someone, and I just

That's something I've been working really hard to learn to do for ages. In the past there have been so many times where I've wanted to say or do something for a stranger and the good old SM wouldn't let me, and trying would just reduce me to shaking and tears, and then I felt like a mean/shitty person because I could have been helpful and I didn't even though it was such a small thing

and this is the first time I've managed to do it ;-;!!

[fractualized]

hi!! i hope you don’t mind me asking this but i recently read harleen (specifically issue 1) and wondered if you might know of any other comics that have an outsider perspective of batjokes? thanks !!

I don't mind at all, anon! I also enjoy in-universe outside perspectives on Batman and Joker's relationship (and I've included quite a bit of it in fic). Harleen #1 does have a pretty great one:

The most common commentary on Batman and Joker from other characters is the ol' "why haven't you killed him yet?!" but that reflects more frustration than any inkling of the connection between Gotham's most famous nemeses. So with the help of @distort-opia, I wrangled panels from a couple dozen comics that show characters having a better (even if incomplete) understanding of what the heck is going on there.

Many of these may already be familiar if you've been around batjokes fandom long enough. Regardless, spoilers abound!

I've ordered these (mostly) in cover date order.

June 1996 - The Batman Chronicles #5

This is a flashback that takes place shortly after The Killing Joke. Barbara is understandably bitter about being fridged, and it's clear that officers who saw Batman and Joker laughing together have spread the word, because heyyyyy wtf?

October 1996 - Catwoman (1993) #38

Selina knows releasing other rogues is a good distraction; Batman is always more concerned about Joker than her.

May 1997 - Batman: Batgirl

Before this, Joker was firing his gun willy-nilly, hitting his own men, and he hit Batman accidentally. Barbara doesn't seem to think he fully understands the consequences of killing Batman, especially given the surprise he shows when Batman goes down.

Five years later, this story gets retold (with a worse rendition of Joker's fantastic oufit):

July 2002 - DC First: Batgirl/Joker 

In this version, Barbara more actively realizes she needs to get at Joker by laughing at him, because he's caught up in a reality where Batman is the only other real person. (Not sure if this is the first comic to posit that idea, but it has shown up elsewhere.)

February 1999 - Catwoman (1993) #65

Joker has been terrorizing Catwoman for Batman-related reasons for a few issues, and she knows that saying she's killed Batman will devastate him. (You know, the more stories like this I see, the more I see Tom King actually didn't have too far a walk to jokerize Selina.)

August 2001 - Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (1989) #144

Alfred has noticed that Joker's presence affects Bruce's behavior. 

September 2003 - Batman: Gotham Knights #43

This take from Barbara is set before TKJ and meant to foreshadow (aftershadow?) it. Here she shows a better understanding of Batman and Joker's relationship than Bruce does.

October 2003 - Outsiders (2003) #3

Luthor knows just how to get under Joker's skin.

March 2011 - Streets of Gotham #19

Hush also knows how to get under Joker's skin.

March 2011 - Gotham City Sirens #19 

Selina and Harley are thinking more about themselves here, but it's not hard to connect the dots. Joker is part of the criminal morass that Bruce is focused on fighting, and Joker's focus is constantly on how to best the Batman.

November 2011 - Batman: Noël

Bruce has been told that Catwoman has information about the Joker's whereabouts. Note that Selina isn't saying she's aware that Joker is up to something right now; she implies that Batman is always thinking about Joker. It's a fact she can bank on.

May 2013 - Injustice: Gods Among Us #4 (digital release #11) 

Perhaps the most infamous example. This is related to the "why won't you kill him?" trope, but Clark's accusation takes it further by directly saying it's because Bruce loves fighting Joker more than he loves his friends and family.

Clark says something similar about Joker being Bruce's playmate in another comic:

August 2014 - Adventures of Superman (2013) #14 (digital release #41

Even outside of the Injustice universe, Clark knows Bruce's priorities are out of whack when it comes to Joker.

January 2013 - Catwoman (2011) #14

Selina just stating the obvious here, again after a now-faceless Joker has tormented her for Batman-related reasons for a couple issues.

April 2016 - Batman (2011) #49

Heartbreaking example from Alfred here. He watched Bruce's obsessiveness and understood that Bruce, consciously or subconsciously, saw dying with Joker as his destiny. He probably suspects that Joker didn't really die either and knows they're going to end up back on the same track.

April 2016 - Batman: Europa #4

These panels sum up Europa. Bane, always looking for fresh ways to break the Bat, saw Joker as a clear catalyst (even if he had to make up a convoluted plot to make Batman see it first).

January 2017 - All-Star Batman #4 (backer)

Duke is pretty much repeating Bruce's soliloquy from Death of the Family here, so he's not saying anything Bruce doesn't really know, but he doesn't know that Bruce knows. lol Interestingly, this happens before Dark Days: The Casting, in which Duke watches Joker demonstrate his love in a more positive way by trying to stop Bruce from blundering into everything that happens in Dark Nights: Metal and beyond.

January 2018 - Batman: White Knight #2

White Knight is problematic from a batjokes standpoint (and other standpoints!) but poor Harley presents another infamous outsider perspective here.

October 2018 - Harley/Gossamer Special

She's right and right to say it!

August 2020 - Birds of Prey (2020) 

This take is interesting in how it posits that Joker already felt unfulfilled by Batman by the time he met Harley and that she was kind of a rebound.

August 2020 - The Joker 80th Anniversary 100-Page Super Spectacular

This is from "The Last Smile," in which Harley reveals Joker's recurring nightmare about Batman mocking him as he's put to death. Joker didn't picture Harley appearing to save him, but perhaps he felt like Batman's respect was "saving" him all the long.

September 2020 - Batgirl (2016) #47

Nooooo! That's the thing he's sensitive about!

April 2021 - Batman/Catwoman #3

I have… a lot of thoughts about Batman/Catwoman, few positive, but if you can push past the muddling storytelling technique (and the batcat if that's not your thing), Selina has a lot to say about Bruce and Joker's relationship, like in this and the following example.

May 2021 - Batman/Catwoman #4

Catwoman describes how Batman treats all his rogues and then equates that with how he treats his lovers. How much do you know, Selina? Who is Joker's main competition?? It's Harvey, isn't it?!

May 2022 - Detective Comics (2016) #1058 (backer)

Even newbie F-level antagonists like The Forgotten know what's up!

Well, that was a lengthy but surely not exhaustive account of what other DC characters think about the vibes between the Dark Knight and Clown Prince of Crime. (May they be bewildered for years to come!) I hope you spotted some comics that caught your interest, anon.

[aspd-culture]

aspd and adhd(/possible autism) culture is realizing only once you're out of high school "ohhhhhhh wait, so i thought i wasn't abused growing up, but actually i was and it only stopped due to covid, and that resulted in my osdd system and aspd?"

buckle up, this is Long and definitely classifies as a Vent. honestly, you can ignore the middle section and jump to the next blank line of space if you want.

jesus christ. i was punished more harshly than my peers, i struggled to make friends, i was put into a little school program where board games were used to reinforce good behavior in problem kids which i only realized two months ago, my memory issues (which were always there, but only noticed in fifth grade) got me into so much shit with every authority figure ever, i broke a window using one of those mechanical hamster things that were popular at the time by accident but i didn't care at all, that's just scratching the surface

memories of things have been coming back to me lately. according to my mom i was such a nice little kid, always shared and was polite and highly empathetic, all the goods.

school came along, flipped everything on its head. i remember harassing and hurting animals, and people, and sometimes telling those people not to tell—not because i felt bad but because i didn't want to get into trouble again, it was an inconvenience. my home life was pretty good but other kids left me out of things a lot and sometimes called me names, even the neighbors' kids i liked to hang out with would make me the monster of their games and that does something to a kid (one of them is also the reason i'm a victim of cocsa). when i did something wrong or bad there was only punishment because i "should know not to do that" and so i had to teach myself how to be a functioning and good member of society. i got good at lying towards the end of third grade, the skill got better from there with every punishment i faced

when a former friend told me "hey, you have aspd traits/might have aspd" i went and found the checklist, because thorough research is how i work, went through it. at the time i didn't think it fit very well because "yes, i experience that but that's pretty normal for people, i learned how to manage it under several layers of creating a socially acceptable person just like everyone else"

i've gone back to it a couple times since and wow, surprise surprise, everything applies! the "this doesn't apply to me because i have a system to help with this thing" mindset means the thing still applies! there's some stuff, namely the destruction and truancy, that i didn't do but that's solely because i knew i couldn't get away with it and therefore didn't bother trying. so thanks to aaaaaaall that stuff and more, i definitely grew up with both conduct disorder and odd, and now it's aspd

i can't say i'm mad about having aspd? it causes problems in my life, yes, but i've spent so long wrangling myself into a form small enough to fit into society's box that it's not the worst thing anymore. i think i'm more mad at society, my peers, for not helping me with this and being kind where they should've, especially my mom as of recently

that said: it is fucking hard-wired into me that there's only good people and bad people in the world. harmful behavior towards me (or someone else doing something i can't forgive) is automatically met with hammurabi's eye for an eye. the coping mechanisms i use work very well, are generally healthy, and people who don't do anything to calm themselves down and think rationally tend to piss me off. i have been fighting those things for a while but they're the ones that simply won't go away. hamburger help me.

aspd-culture-is

There's a lot of good information in this ask. Too many people see ASPD as a direct result of physical abuse or CSA/SA, when a lot of ASPD symptoms really develop around things that are seen as smaller issues, where a child's problems get diminished by the people who are supposed to help that child to the point where they feel the only person that will help them is themself.

More than anything else, I personally think a very quick and simple way to decrease the number of people who end up with ASPD would be to get parents and other caregiving adults, and honestly society as a whole, to understand that regardless of how simple, silly, or insignificant it may seem to someone older, these "silly" things are often the worst thing the child has experienced up until that point. Someone always having to be the monster sounds like nothing to an adult, leading to no response to help besides maybe "they're just teasing you, ignore them". But "just teasing" is the most social rejection a child has experienced to that point, and so it is extremely distressing and emotionally painful. It feels like the most isolated they could possibly be, because they haven't been around long enough to experience worse. Then, the child is told to ignore it, which not only fails to make them feel better, but often causes it to get even worse as the other kids try and push harder to get the reaction they're looking for. Do they eventually give up? Sometimes. But the lengths and extremes many bullies will go to when "just teasing" doesn't elicit a response is disturbing and that fact is either unknown to or ignored by adults.

Part of why always being made the monster does something to a kid is that it is treated as a non-issue. When that is what a developing brain learns is the reaction to their pain, they will no longer seek outside help when things become extreme.

TW: descriptions of SA/r threats. Skip the following paragraph and move to the next one to avoid. Also a bit of a vent.

When I was in school, I was teased. I was made the dog who was not allowed to talk or a person with their vocal chords removed any time we played pretend. Sometimes they made me a rock or stick on the ground, even. It sounds like nothing, and when I was told it would go away if I ignored them, I listened. It didn't stop them. It led to an entire set of multiple schools that were combined into one building seeing me as a verbal and sometimes physical plaything; a place to take out your angst and distress. I lost my personhood in their eyes, so my understanding of social interactions were tainted and colored by the way my peers treated me. I told anyone who tried to befriend me not to be seen talking to me, to bully me publicly so they wouldn't get the treatment I got, so even the few people who tried to be kind got a skewed, unnatural social interaction with me. Many listened, and I don't hold that against them at all. That's simply what they had to do to make it. It got to the point of receiving verbal and *detailed, written-out, and signed* r word threats, and boys who were 11 years old talking about kidnapping tying me up in their parents attic and using me whenever they wanted (theirs was more detailed). Some even attempted to touch me, and adults nearby ignored it because "X likes to handle it themselves, they don't like when adults get involved", because I learned that they would only vaguely say stop, and it would get worse. That's what happens when you just ignore it.

And what do we call a person who learns that only they can protect themselves, and who doesn't understand any positive interaction with anyone that isn't transactional? Antisocial. I hate the idea what a positive relationship with family is incompatible with ASPD, sorry about the rant. Because of how ASPD develops, I refuse to dislike or resent myself or my symptoms when it comes to ASPD. If people didn't want me like this, they shouldn't have treated me like this.

Plain text below the cut:

There's a lot of good information in this ask. Too many people see ASPD as a direct result of physical abuse or CSA/SA, when a lot of ASPD symptoms really develop around things that are seen as smaller issues, where a child's problems get diminished by the people who are supposed to help that child to the point where they feel the only person that will help them is themself.

More than anything else, I personally think a very quick and simple way to decrease the number of people who end up with ASPD would be to get parents and other caregiving adults, and honestly society as a whole, to understand that regardless of how simple, silly, or insignificant it may seem to someone older, these "silly" things are often the worst thing the child has experienced up until that point. Someone always having to be the monster sounds like nothing to an adult, leading to no response to help besides maybe "they're just teasing you, ignore them". But "just teasing" is the most social rejection a child has experienced to that point, and so it is extremely distressing and emotionally painful. It feels like the most isolated they could possibly be, because they haven't been around long enough to experience worse. Then, the child is told to ignore it, which not only fails to make them feel better, but often causes it to get even worse as the other kids try and push harder to get the reaction they're looking for. Do they eventually give up? Sometimes. But the lengths and extremes many bullies will go to when "just teasing" doesn't elicit a response is disturbing and that fact is either unknown to or ignored by adults.

Part of why always being made the monster does something to a kid is that it is treated as a non-issue. When that is what a developing brain learns is the reaction to their pain, they will no longer seek outside help when things become extreme.

TW: descriptions of SA/r threats. Skip the following paragraph and move to the next one to avoid. Also a bit of a vent.

When I was in school, I was teased. I was made the dog who was not allowed to talk or a person with their vocal chords removed any time we played pretend. Sometimes they made me a rock or stick on the ground, even. It sounds like nothing, and when I was told it would go away if I ignored them, I listened. It didn't stop them. It led to an entire set of multiple schools that were combined into one building seeing me as a verbal and sometimes physical plaything; a place to take out your angst and distress. I lost my personhood in their eyes, so my understanding of social interactions were tainted and colored by the way my peers treated me. I told anyone who tried to befriend me not to be seen talking to me, to bully me publicly so they wouldn't get the treatment I got, so even the few people who tried to be kind got a skewed, unnatural social interaction with me. Many listened, and I don't hold that against them at all. That's simply what they had to do to make it. It got to the point of receiving verbal and *detailed, written-out, and signed* r word threats, and boys who were 11 years old talking about kidnapping tying me up in their parents attic and using me whenever they wanted (theirs was more detailed). Some even attempted to touch me, and adults nearby ignored it because "X likes to handle it themselves, they don't like when adults get involved", because I learned that they would only vaguely say stop, and it would get worse. That's what happens when you just ignore it.

And what do we call a person who learns that only they can protect themselves, and who doesn't understand any positive interaction with anyone that isn't transactional? Antisocial. I hate the idea what a positive relationship with family is incompatible with ASPD, sorry about the rant. Because of how ASPD develops, I refuse to dislike or resent myself or my symptoms when it comes to ASPD. If people didn't want me like this, they shouldn't have treated me like this.

[lorata]

In the hypothetical world where the rebellion never happened (maybe Peeta bled out out before Katniss could pull the berries), what kind of mentors would the younger 2 victors have been? Petra and Claudius and even Alec depending on what universe we are in for the moment. Would they ever bring a tribute home? Have you thought about any other victors who would have happened in this status quo nightmare universe?

I've looked at a failed-rebellion AU briefly here (I have Emory with a victor here, one of the only times she ever does I think) and in some of my more adjacent AUs over on LJ

Claudius never mentors directly but as seen in the 3QQ he turns out to be good at sponsor-wrangling so I think that's where he turns his talents. he's good at manipulating people which makes him handy on the floor, so he tends to go in as backup fairly often.

(it's extremely funny because we know he's actually a VERY good mentor but he can't do it until he can play for keeps. in the child soldiers AU he's a squad leader, so it's someone the kids look up to in the trenches with them, not a mentor who's on the outside looking in. the story ends before he survives long enough to age out and again, I'm not sure he could do it from the other side)

Enobaria is another one where I have her working the floor and being very successful at getting donations but not mentoring herself

I've never played with Petra or Alec as mentors, I'm not sure how they'd go. funny enough I think Petra would be less attracted to the loyalist kiddos than everyone thinks she would be (herself included) but I don't know what it would actually be. Alec I always get a full shut-down when I try to think about it, wrangling him to a Victor universe was hard enough

Electra I have done, and she's very good but hers always died. her type tend to burn bright and flame out hard, supernova style. Creed is another one where I know he'd be good (especially on the sponsor floor) but I have no idea what his Type (TM) would be

[nova-ayashi]

The Problem with Bluesky

So, I've been struggling with my anger over this for a week or so, and instead of a one-off post, I'm going to use Tumblr for what it was originally intended, and I'm going to write a blog post.

Yup. A whole-ass blog of a post.

Since Musk farted up and destroyed Twitter, there's been a huge influx to Threads and Bluesky (or, at least, for those who can get invite codes). Threads has been a mild experience, and I haven't seen very many trolls, or people with so much delusion that they see themselves as site-wide moderators.

You've probably guessed, in that latter statement, that I'm referencing Bluesky.

In the interest of keeping people with PTSD and other neurological issues safe, I will be mentioning these people by the names they use on bsky.app.

A little over a week ago, one of the handful of trans women I follow on Bluesky was trying to find more trans people to follow. A normal thing to do, since that's a practice we all see a lot of the time. The community is sometimes hard to scrape together.

Bennie (@bennie.gay) was someone I started following from the beginning. I thought she was kinda cool, despite the participation in the pollution of the timelines with senseless shitposting, as if we're all hanging out on Something Awful still, in the year 2023.

Previously, Bennie had been posting about not having enough money for food, and struggling, and this is how I came into contact with her. I gave her around twenty-five bucks with no expectations about it, so that she could feed herself. I don't say this as a way to say, "Man, this shouldn't have happened, I gave her money!" but more as a way to say, this person does not care at all about any of the people around her, even if said people do care.

Now we'll fast-forward back to the part I mentioned about Bennie making a post in an attempt to wrangle up other trans people. It wasn't the fact that she posted asking to find more trans people, or trans women specifically, it was that her post solicited other trans women by calling every single one of them "trannies."

As someone with a large background in dealing with hate, discrimination, being slurred, being accosted, being threatened, losing friends, losing jobs, being completely alone and to myself for years at a time, etc, etc. This isn't really something that's easy for me to see, let alone type in a long-winded explanation about why Bluesky is bad, and what's wrong with its biggest accounts.

Seeing this set my brain into a kind of panic, scorched Earth sort of mode, as it does, when you have specific neurological issues related to abuse and trauma. In as kind a way as I could muster, I told Bennie that maybe she shouldn't be posting actual slurs like this directly onto the timeline without any warning.

Enter: Backlash, lack of empathy, and "You can't police the words I use to identify myself with! We've reclaimed tranny! It's not bad anymore!"

I want to say that I've been dealing with people like this for a very long time, and when you come at me with this kind of extreme narcissism, and inability to sympathize, or empathize with those around you, it pisses me off. It makes me blood-curdling angry.

(See: the saga I was involved in being manipulated by Laurelai Bailey and threatened should I ever speak out against her)

It makes me even more angry, when your followers, or what I would call sycophants, come into my notifications to essentially tell me that my feelings don't matter, that I'm alone, and I have to deal with everything on my own, and nobody cares.

I don't know if these people decided that they're all incapable of empathy over my current state of not transitioning due to numerous life situations I happen to be in, or simply because I said, "Hey, maybe we shouldn't put this on the timeline without warning."

I could go into a whole spiel about how reclaiming slurs is a personal endeavor and it is never universal, you can never speak for millions of people, but that's a whole other point. A point that, if you don't understand in 2023, I'm just going to automatically assume that you're dangerous.

I told a few of her rabid followers to "Fuck off," or "Shut the fuck up," and then I blocked every single one of them.

But that wasn't the end of this. This is where the bad part of Bluesky comes in.

On Bluesky, you have the ability to craft public mute lists, lists that are available for everyone to see on your profile. And on this website, one specific trans community large-account-holder has somehow made a name for herself as some kind of pretend community moderator ... on a Twitter clone.

This might not seem bad just from that statement, because more social media websites could use a trans person as a moderator.

But it goes deeper than that.

Bennie and Kairi (@estrogenempress.gay) are involved with each other. To what extent, I don't know, and I don't care. Kairi runs multiple mute lists that many, many people subscribe to. Lists that describe themselves as lists for people who "scared the hoes," or "people with weird vibes" or just nasty people in-general.

Yes, I saw Bennie begging Kairi to put me on her mute lists. Her trans community, massive-following mute lists that got her interviewed by large tech media magazines.

This is the important part of my whole entire novel length rant: Public mute lists that can be subscribed to by complete strangers, without proper vetting, and much like the Blockbot of Twitter-past, are prone to abuse, in which they are often used to silence innocent people. Used to silence innocent people by malevolent agitators with an agenda.

I have spent years dealing with people like this, being silenced, denied any kind of platform, and largely due-in-part that I don't take bullshit, I have trauma that I deal with, and it's not unreasonable to ask someone not to put very real slurs in front of all of their follower's faces without warning. Whether they're using an offensive, violent slur as an identity marker, or not.

I used to feel this way about "queer," but I've come around on that topic. "Tranny" on the other hand serves no purpose other than to dehumanize, and it has been used against me numerous times while I was still actively able to transition. And I have a lot of trauma. No, that isn't her fault, or Kairi's fault, but it is their fault if they're not willing to listen, not willing to empathize, not willing to move even an inch on anything, and would rather resort to literal abuse.

But that's what you get when random people are allowed any modicum of "power" whatsoever.

And that's why, when all the dust settles, Bluesky will very likely not make the cut.

I would rather spend the next 10 years rebuilding my audience for my work on Threads, than struggle with disingenuous manipulators out to silence anyone and everyone who even so much as slightly disagrees with them.

And, if you're curious, these are the mute lists I've been subjected to, because I asked a random trans woman with a lot of followers to please not put "tranny" in my face.

[alixinwwonderland]

Can I request a followup to that last one maybe??

First part here

Being with Midge is easy in all the ways Lenny never thought he'd get to have, and hard in all the ways he never thought he'd have to deal with.

On the one hand, quite possibly the biggest relief of his life is that adding romance (and sex. a lot of sex. really great sex) to their relationship hasn't actually changed it that much, and certainly hasn't ruined it. They still challenge each other and tease each other and banter with ease. Somehow, from the start, they just slid into each other's lives like they'd always been there, and the pressure he expects from Dating-with-a-capital-D just ... doesn't manifest.

That kind of stability also means that other things are easier than he ever thought he'd get to experience. It turns out that it's a hell of a lot easier to tackle a raging addiction and a headache-inducing legal quagmire when you've got people calm and on your side, willing to listen to you rant about free speech or sit patiently while you struggle to keep down a few spoonfuls of broth. And it's not even just Midge. It's Abe, always raring for a good rampage about free speech and injustice; it's Rose, elegant and tentative and much wiser in her advice than she gets credit for; it's Zelda, sitting with Lenny while Midge gets some food and rest. Hell, it's even Susie, who brings her own special brand of ferocity to wrangling the showbiz side of things when even his own manager is about ready to tap out from the stress.

But then there's the other stuff. Namely, one slick-haired schmuck of an ex-husband.

Now, as an ex-husband himself, Lenny understands a little about the breed. The frustration, the blame game, the guilt, the what-ifs, even the misplaced jealousy. He gives the man credit - he's doing his best to be a more active father to Ethan and Esther than Lenny managed to be during his post-divorce, mid-addiction years.

But Joel Maisel, well, he seems to have a knack for making pretty much everyone and everything around him worse. Lenny would find his floundering and lashing out amusing, if Joel didn't also have a knack for finding Midge's weak spots and drilling down on them in his more spiteful moments.

Which is why Lenny is strolling into the Button Club one evening, ignoring the stares of a few people who clearly recognize him, and sliding into a bar seat right across from the man himself.

"So, I hear I've been in your fantasies as of late," he opens with. He smirks behind his hand as Joel drops the glass he's holding and turns around with a sputter.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Lenny leans back, cigarette in hand, the picture of calm.

"Rumor has it, you've been running your mouth and imagining me sticking a needle in my arm 'til it's all over. Now, I'm very sorry to disappoint an audience, but the only sticking I'm doing these days involves a certain very funny brunette and-"

"OKAY!" Joel snaps, cutting him off. "Why are you even here? Defending Midge, playing the hero until she figures it all out? She's smart, you and I both know that. Smart enough to know when to cut and run from a mess," he adds disdainfully.

Lenny can't resist a joke served up so easily.

"Yes, she certainly has a history to draw on in that department," he comments. Joel's already-scowling face flushes, partly with anger and partly with embarassment at the realization that he set that one up himself.

"And no, in answer to your question. I'm not here to 'defend' Midge. She can do that herself, and it's not as if me saying anything would change your mind anyway."

"Then why are you here?" Joel demands. Lenny looks at him and thinks about all the things he's been through, all the things he's learned since Midge walked into his life, and how in a twisted way, he has the man in front of him to thank for it all.

"You and I are stuck with each other, possibly for a long time," he says. When Joel opens his mouth to retort, he just holds up a finger. "So, from one divorced dumbass to another. I get you're miserable, but stop trying to make everyone else miserable along with you. Otherwise you'll end up hating everyone, alienating your kids, and without any friends who give a damn beyond what you can do for them. And take it from me, that is a very, very unpleasant place to be."

"Why should I listen to you, huh?" Joel demands, but there's a flicker behind his eyes that tells Lenny the deeply un-marvelous Mr. Maisel might not be as stupid as history would suggest.

"Because I went from about as low as a man can go, to the kind of life I'd never even imagined," Lenny says, simply. "And if I can make that kind of leap, well, there's hope for anyone. Even you."

He walks out without another word.

[disastardly]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks for the tag @hereforanepilogue!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 16, with more on my mostly-abandoned FF.net account

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 163,682 (and about ~200k more unpublished in my WIP folder)

3. What fandoms do you write for? Right now the big one is Stranger Things but my forever fandom is Power Rangers/Sentai/Kamen Rider. I've also written for Psych, Doctor Who, and Supernatural. (Most of my SPN and DW stuff is sequestered to my FF account.)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Descent into the Depths of the Earth (Or at Least Milwaukee) (1093)

To Find a King (869)

Dream On (112)

In the Mood (112)

Cold Hard Bitch (104)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I really try to, but sometimes it gets away from me and I worry it's been too long since they left the comment, and it turns into a whole thing (in my head ofc).

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Descent, easily. The post kiss freakout being resolved in another fic? When the fic was originally going to end very differently? Yeaaaaaaah.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Toss up between TFaK (fully resolving's Descent's angsty ending) or California (literally a mini-fic about the OTP getting married).

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not so far?

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I have, mainly some pretty straightforward m/m stuff. A few funkier attempts swim around my WIP folder, almost certainly never to see the light of day.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I've written a lot of subtle crossovers, but only two overt ones, and I think the craziest would be the Doctor Who/Office one I wrote back in high school. Dwight is a Dalek!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? If anyone has, they didn't ask or tell me (or it's been long enough that I forgot).

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have not!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? At this point, feels safe to say Maddie/Nick, even if that's at least 75% my own interpretations and projections. Destiel, Shassie, and Steddie are pretty darn close, especially Destiel, even if I haven't been involved in that fandom in over a decade.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? A few of my orphaned fics on FF.net will probably never see the light of day, as well as some of the half-formed works in my current WIP folder. Technically have the finished final chapter of Magical Mysteries but no motivation to edit, so still holding hope for that one.

16. What are your writing strengths? Dialogue, I think. I spend a lot of time trying to imagine the scenes I write and hear the dialogue how I think the actors would deliver it.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Conciseness, clearly. Takes a lot of self-editing to wrangle a story to a manageable, clear narrative.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I've done bits and pieces of it here and there, mainly with the like five languages that I can double-check against my own thin linguistic knowledge.

19. First fandom you wrote for? if you dig back far enough, pretty sure it was Pokemon on the Bulbagarden forums

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? Descent, easily. Despite the angsty ending, it was fun to write a slice of life centered on two characters I love, going to an event I love even more.

no pressure tags for @eriquin @serpentinegraphite and whoever else sees this, go wild

[stygiusfic]

hi styg !! i'm really curious about 14 and 15 for those end-of-year writer asks if you feel like talking about it 💖 !!

hi friend!! <333 thank you for the ask!!

14. a fic you didn't expect to write

I haven't posted this yet, but the question doesn't say it has to be posted, so. Inspired by my re-read of The Island of Doctor Moreau by H. G. Wells this summer, I've written 40k words (and counting) of a Critical Role C2 fanfic trapping one of my favorite characters of the campaign, Essek, on the island that steals people's memories away and makes them slaves to the false god in its volcano. (Currently titled The Island of New Beginnings; I have a CR sideblog @bug4bread-sideblog which is where I'll share when it's done.)

It's not Hades, which is all I've posted in the past couple of years, and it doesn't mean my Hades days are over, but man, I'm having a blast playing in this new sandbox. It's also an experiment: I've only mentioned it to a few friends, and plan to start posting only after I finish. I want to see if multi-chapter is easier for me that way. So, unexpected but good!

15. something you learned this year

Feels like I learned a lot! Or gained more confidence in my process; probably a mix of both. (Under a cut because it got long!)

Overall, in the long long years I've been writing, I've written mostly short stories or one-shots, and I've always struggled the most with finishing the initial draft. There's always that perfectionist urge in me that wants to get all the themes and plot elements and character arcs in the right arrangement from the get-go, and if I'm feeling dissatisfied with my direction it's hard to stay motivated.

This year, maybe because I've recently wrangled with longer works, I feel like I'm building some endurance in that regard! You can get lucky with a one-shot and push it out in a day, and get a first draft that’s near perfect, but that’s just not possible with multichapter, for me, and I’ve finally started to accept that.

It's still hard to let go of the urge to polish right away, but I feel like I understand now more deeply that my process relies on multiple passes to get where I want to go. Especially for 20k+ stories, this is what I'm learning to accept as the process:

0.5 — Outline: In-depth outline of the whole story with its ups and downs, with a list of scenes too, and I'll usually outline each scene before I write it. (Who's in the scene? What do they want? How are the things they want out of the scene opposed?). The overall outline will be thin in the second half because I still don't know enough about my story, I'll find out what I'm actually getting at when I start writing it; I’ve learned that This is fine.

1. — First draft: Sometimes inspiration works miracles but waiting for a miracle is not a process. I really feel like this year I got a step closer to accepting that my first draft can and should be rough. It's a draft. It's sinking in that, when I look at my artist friends' progress videos, of course I don't expect them to make a perfect painting without sketching basic shapes first, so why do I keep expecting the writing equivalent of that from myself?

1.5 — Heart Notes list: This has been the game changer in 2022. It's a list of things to fix in a later draft, and/or think about on my next walk. When I'm drafting and dissatisfied with something (why would this character do this? why does this pacing fall flat? etc) or introducing some new element halfway through that I will need to rewrite earlier scenes to set up, I just put it on this list. And I don't think about it anymore for now. I used to compile these notes after the first draft was done, but those issues weigh on me enough that they would often discourage me and keep me from finishing the first draft at all. The list lets me mentally set down the weight of that problem, knowing I will address it later, so I can keep drafting now.

2. — Second draft: My beloved. Here is where I will do the larger rewrites based on my heart notes and rearrange stuff how I need it to be and just generally feel terribly relieved the first draft is behind me.

3. — Final draft: Just tweak some sentence-level stuff to make it read better and clearer, and we're done. (This is what I have always foolishly hoped the second draft would be, which meant I needed the first draft to be close to perfect already... and that’s how I got stuck.)

I still have a long way to go in terms of learning to let the first draft suck as much as it needs to, but I've been feeling a lot more secure in the idea that sucking is part of the process. I struggled a lot with writing in the first half of 2022. It's been getting better, and I think giving myself more leeway to suck at first and then seeing it work out in the end has helped a lot.

I hope 2023 is a good writing year for you (and in general too)!!

[quietwingsinthesky]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged by @heavenssexiestangel for this, and i've got a snippet of a raphael & michael apartmentverse fic that i've had on ice a while. no title yet but the document is just called 'thunderbolt'

(not sure who to tag for this tbh cause im. very tired rn lmao. but feel free to share what you're working on if you see this!)

and here's the little snippet <3

Finally, he turns to the window and to where Raphael has seated themselves. They’ve carried one of the chairs from the kitchen over, and they’re seated with their legs crossed, staring out the window. Raphael rests their head on their arm, and their arm on the indent of the windowsill. Their forehead is pressed against the cool glass, tired eyes lighting up with each thunderous strike. He could imagine it as their grace, but Michael can also see their slow exhales fogging the glass, an undeniable reminder that they are human still, no matter how the sky calls out for Raphael to take to it again.

Michael doesn’t want to wake Lucifer up by dragging another seat across the room. Instead, he sits at Raphael’s feet, leaning back until the top of his head bumps the window. He can feel the minute vibration of the walls in time with the thunder. It takes Raphael a minute to acknowledge him. First, they let one leg drop from where they’re crossed in the chair. Their foot falls over Michael’s knee, bright pink sock not matching the black one he can see on their other foot.

And after another minute, Raphael finally speaks without preamble, “We left them alone.” He follows their thoughts as though they were his own. The connection of their grace has been severed by their mortality, but Michael and Raphael have been two quarters trying to make up the whole of four parts for a very long time.

That made him too sure of himself in the first few weeks of their humanity. He knows how Raphael thinks, he often knows what they will do before they do it, but he very rarely understands what Raphael feels. What any of them feel. It’s hard enough trying to wrangle the constant, conflicting emotions he has.

But Raphael has turned their eyes to the heavens. Michael keeps his head down when he asks, “Are you worried about them?”

Worry is too small a word. Michael can’t make the breadth of the responsibility that he, that they were left with fit into any other, and so, he doesn’t try.

Raphael’s foot twitches, toes curling against his leg. He sees lightning flash from the window, cutting their silhouette against the ground in front of him. Slight variations in the body they inhabit, enough that it looks less and less like the woman it once belonged to and more like...

Not like Raphael. Nothing on Earth could look like Raphael.

But, like the apartment with the various flowers Lucifer brings to set at the table and the scuffed corner where their shoes all pile up and the spot beside the sink where two of their last pristine cups and one glued together mug are drying, it is lived in. It is home.

Neither of them know the full price of that.

“They weren’t made for freedom. They are soldiers. They follow. And we abandoned them.” Raphael says abandoned like it cuts their mouth. It’s an old wound that leaves the word dripping blood. Michael draws his knee up, the one that Raphael’s foot isn’t balanced on, and searches for reassurance and faith to share with them.

It unsettles him how long he takes to find it.

[elizabethrobertajones]

While playing my Melly WoL I'm thinking hard about her story, both the original novels I've written 1000 drafts of since I was 12, and how to wrangle the basic facts into her being a WoL...

She's a mermaid princess (able to walk on land with ease and eventually choice of transformation), because that's always been a part of her story one way or another, though if I ever manage to write far enough to get there I will have to not call it Atlantis like I did in the 12 year old me's drafts. Ugh, original names? And thankfully we do have a whole bunch of lore about undersea auri folks living in their bubbles and even having royalty for this OC WoL business. So she and Kurenai are already set up to be cousins with a pleasant if slightly stiff and formal relationship. You know, forced to socialise at events. Never really understood each other even if they also are the most alike of any of their peoples, which can really foster misunderstanding and confusion MORE than not getting someone at all...

In the stories she has a fail-wizard bestie who to be perfectly honest Galvin is already somewhat like because I have a stock rota of characters I put in all my stories, as we all do, so I guess if I'm committing to Melly being defined enough as a WoL character she can exist in Galvinverse, as his really prickly, exhausted bestie. Maybe this is what Galvin has been missing all this time. Maybe we can fix him.

Ardbert most fits her love interest in terms of personality even if he's a sword guy not an axe guy (MELLY is the Axe Guy in this relationship, it's the start and end of her personality though I am talking about character dynamics here not her other Mary Sue powers), and I'm thinking more of Alive!Ardbert than the one we interact with :P In any case, the tragedy of WoLbert shipping has been consuming me as I played through ShB over the last month.

6.4 has made me start thinking wildly while I have been zoned out doing level 34 reaper rotation in levelling roulette. So. We are able to give Themis a whole bunch of aether to keep that memory of him alive. And he owes us one on the Ardbert front. If Melly has been THAT attached to Ardbert, she's forthright enough to just tell him (also to not do that dance with Lahabrea not telling HIM what he did >:)) so Themis, knowing Melly and understanding what he personally did to her in the future, ALSO has a connection to Ardbert within her. Blah blah aetheric signatures or something. I think he could probably reach within her and draw him out and drain a bunch more of her aether into drawing out a stable Ardbert from her similar to what Athena did making their memory forms, but stronger and stable because he's still very much part of her soul but also finally free to be a guy and walk around talking to people and wear different clothes and whatever. Hold her hand :) MAYBE GROW OLD TOGETHER? In any case I'm looking forward to that for her.

Melly also fits really perfectly into FFXIV because her story is set in a unstably high fantasy world (i.e. lots of modern elements bleed in despite the overall surrounds, creatures, magic etc being high fantasy). She can wear jeans and fight dragons in both. But it's also got a ton of city states people can be rulers of as well, and since her basis has always been in playing with all the big fantasy tropes there's so much OTT drama over things, I've decided this is the perfect reason to crack out my old favourite: Estinien as the initially or perpetually unknowing true heir to the throne of Ishgard, who should NEVER actually be given it on account of him not wanting it and feeling quite rightly like it would be a terrible idea. Which would just make it very funny that Melly knows this about him and is doing everything in her power to prop up Aymeric in power for the sole reason of protecting Estinien from Ishgard and Ishgard from Estinien, on account of the complete brainrot that people would get in the city if even a whiff of a rumour of a long lost heir of the first Azure Dragoon and unwilling prince of Ishgard being around ever got out. I mean, he would never set foot in Dravania, Coerthas or maybe even The Black Shroud ever again just for good measure XD

... anyway just typing up some things about Melz because it's honestly hilarious that this is the one place my online presence hasn't centred entirely around her existence and I think of her daily even before I got back to levelling her as a WoL, and just playing Warrior has been enough to get me redrafting her story in the past :P

[daddyslittleangelsrp]

Boys, what are you looking for in a Daddy? What are you looking for in a Little?

Adam: Interestingly enough, that's a tough question. I haven't thought about it that much. I just take each relationship as it comes and go from there. But I can give you a foundation of what I might be looking for. In a Daddy I want someone that's sweet but can take charge. Someone that allows me time and space to breathe and loves sweets because I bake a LOT. Someone that's respectful of course and that wants to help me thrive and level up, but will let me help them relax and level up as well. In a Little? It's a bit tougher, but I want them to feel comfortable around me at some point. I want someone that doesn't mind being my taste tester and helper in the kitchen. I want someone that won't be afraid to lean on me when it's needed. I don't mind if they're independent and like to do things on their own at all, but I want them to be able to rely on me when they reach that headspace. At the end of the day, whether it's a CG/L relationship, D/S relationship, or a typical relationship, I want someone that's sweet, genuine, loves cuddling and sweets and that wants to grow as a couple.

Jack: What do I look for? Not much. In a Daddy I want someone that's financially stable and mentally sound. Someone that I can trust to be my true self with and not just some fetishization. And definitely someone that's not too easily jealous. I left a guy for assuming I was flirting with a neighbor and calling the money I earn by stripping "dirty". As for a Little I want someone respectful, sweet, and I don't mind a little brattiness. But at the end of the day I'll work with them and love them and just be what they need for as long as I can. All in all, I look for respect, love, reliability and grace.

Ben: In a Daddy, I look for someone that's creative--especially with punishments because the standard spanking just doesn't work for me. I also look for someone that's going to help me become a better person. I don't always make the best decisions when choosing my friends-- aside from Ethan and Chris and Lamar, who I should really be hanging out with more often. But yeah, someone strong-minded, creative, and that can act as a guide without being super controlling. I wouldn't want to be in a toxic relationship or anything. I'm not exactly daddy material and if I'm a handful already I wouldn't want to imagine trying to wrangle a second me, ya know? But if we're gonna be friends, as long as you aren't a troublemaker and into breaking the law then we might be good friends as Littles.

Chris: Ooh, that's a great question. Personally, I have issues with looking after myself so I look for a Daddy with structure. One that can help me stay on track and not get too immersed in my studies. Studying to be an eye therapist is super hard, but I wanna do it. Also someone that's sweet and loving and doesn't mind experimenting-- especially in the bedroom. As for a Little, I've never really been in that position in a relationship. I'm not much of a dom/daddy material, but I have my moments, like in one poly relationship. I don't mind switching roles once in a while, ya know? But if there's any other Littles out there I'd love to make friends. Especially if we get to have sleepovers.

Lamar: I'm a bit new to this world/dynamic, but what I look for in a Daddy mostly aligns with what I'd look for in a boyfriend in general. So someone nice, nonjudgemental, great with communication that will love me for me, be respectful and not fetishize me for what I have. Ethan knows I haven't had much luck in the love department and he knows how to pick me up when I'm down. But I've had a few guys that have been pretty good Daddies. I just hope that there's more out there. So along with what's already listed, I need someone that can ground me and be there on my bad days. I can't lean on Ethan forever. As for a Little, I'm not exactly looking for one. That may change in the future, but until then, I'm pretty sure Ethan kinda serves as my own Little at times, but that's what best friends are for at times.

Ethan: I kinda like this question a lot, so thanks for asking. In a Daddy I look for someone loving, understanding and that will protect and care for me. And they have to love cuddling, bath time, and lazy days. I also want someone that can match my own libido. It's important that we have chemistry and a similar...stamina. Umm, Littles? That's typically my job in the relationship, thank you very much! But I'm surprised you see me as Daddy material. I'm honored anon.

[mithrilhearts]

Hi Razzy I love youuuu!! <3 Do you think that you could write a lil bit for the fic where Bilbo and Thorin elope in Vegas and then it turns out that Thorin is his new next door neighbor? Maybe using the prompt "berry picking" from the summer stories prompts? (imagine i've inserted the lil eyeball emojis here)

YES HELLO!!!

Thanks for sending in this prompt/ask!! :D This is my first time poking at this AU since the plot bunny, so this may or may not end up canon, but this is what I WOULD DO with this prompt and this AU-verse at this time, I think.

I hope you enjoy it, and get some sort of vibe as to what this fic could be!

-> Fuck Thy Neighbor (Plot Bunny) -> Summer Stories (Week 1)

Berry Picking

Bilbo wanted everything to be perfect for Drogo and Primula’s wedding, so when Prim had asked him to bake, he was going to do only the best he could. That meant fresh berries and fruits picked by his own hand. Not to mention, the local orchard farm was always a wonderful sight to see. The smell of ripe berries and fresh apples always tickled his nose in the best of ways.

This wasn’t just about the wedding sweets, but Bilbo often found baking to be a great passion, and a great way to relieve stress. He’d been dubbed a ‘stress baker’ for far too long, and to deny those labels now would be foolish. So the more supplies he had, the more baking he’d end up doing. With the current issue that was his new next-door neighbor on his hands…the house was going to be only two bread loaves short of opening up a damn bakery.

With a sun hat over his head and a basket hooked at his elbow, Bilbo just grumbled to himself as he inspected each apple carefully before either leaving it on the tree or plucking it by the stem to be sliced up later in his kitchen. He was a particularly picky man when it came to his fruits and vegetables, whether eating them or picking them out to see which had the most potential to be the most flavorful. Of course, his grumbling had nothing to do with bruised skins or fruit not being ripe enough for the picking. It was about that stupid neighbor of his.

A stupid neighbor that just so happened to be married to him in the eyes of the law.

Bilbo’s stomach lurched at the thought as he shook his head, snagging another apple into his hand and inspecting it before plucking it from the tree and carefully placing it in his basket alongside a few others.

Sooner or later he’d need to contact an attorney and relay this ridiculous story of how he had gotten accidentally married to some yeehaw whose last name he didn’t even know until a piece of Thorin Durin’s mail ended up in his mailbox by mistake. How embarrassing. The thought made Bilbo’s cheeks burn as if the sun were getting to him, and it prompted him to tug on that sunhat a bit harder in adjustment, grumbling to himself as his inspection continued.

Meanwhile across the lot…

“You can’t eat those yet!” Thorin growled towards a young blond kid who had berries in his hands and was running from his uncle while having the audacity to laugh about it. “Fili!” Thorin barked, tossing aside his basket of blueberries, and those laughing giggles turned into two and were more squeals than anything as Kili joined into the fray.

Two young boys were notorious for causing trouble. No wonder Dis wanted a day to herself and directed Thorin to take Fili and Kili to the orchard by himself. So much for ‘they’ll be on their best behavior!’, which was hardly the case as they ran, unclean berries in their hands and shoving them into their mouths–or trying to. The fact that both kids looked as if they’d stuck their heads in giant jam jars was something else.

Thorin was not handling bath time for them later. Rotten little rugrats–but he loved them dearly, even if his puffed out red cheeks at the moment said otherwise.

“Fili! Kili!” Thorin yelled, trying to wrangle the two kids, but for some reason, he had a hard time getting a hold of them. Charging after the two near the apple trees, and watching one of them clip their foot against a ladder as he was passing by, Thorin halted. The squeal from both of his nephews, and whatever gentleman had been up there picking apples rang loud in his ears. His arms automatically extended…and it was as if fate truly wanted to have the last laugh in making his day a big berry-covered and sticky misery.

“Wah!!” Bilbo squealed as soon as he had been caught, and stared into the eyes of his savior who had his firm arms locked around him…bridal style. “You!” With his brows knitting together, Bilbo wasn’t sure whether to start squirming or not as his cheeks continued to heat up in embarrassment, and even more agitation. “Put me down this instant!”

“You’re welcome!?” Thorin had half a mind to just drop Bilbo like a sack of potatoes at the lack of manners with such an unexpected rescue, but something in him tugged at his better judgment and placed his less than neighborly neighbor back onto his feet. “How about a thank you it’s not that hard.”

“It’s not my fault my ladder was jostled. I was minding my own business, thank you very much,” Bilbo’s eyes dropped to the ground where his perfectly plucked apples lay scattered, his face wilting in the process. “My apples…”

Thorin let out a heavy sigh, casting a glance over his shoulder toward two very guilty-looking young boys. “My berries…” He lamented, just as pathetically as Bilbo had before kneeling to start picking up the fallen apples from Bilbo’s collection. “Sorry.” It wasn’t the most heartfelt of apologies, but the intent was there. It was more than what the grump next door deserved in Thorin’s eyes, but then again…Bilbo had a right to be agitated.

“No, it’s okay…they’re kids, and they look sorry enough for the both of us,” Bilbo sighed as he was also collecting his spilled spoils before he and Thorin inadvertently reached for the same apple. One hand clasped over the other only to lock eyes for a moment too long. It was Bilbo who retracted his hand first. “Thank you.”

“Mm, welcome. I hope you plan to do something nice with these, you’ve picked all the really good ones.”

“Only the best for my apple pies. You should see the blueberry and blackberry buckets I have already. Primula is a big fan of my baked goods, but only if they’re fresh berries and apples. I’d hate to disappoint her on her big day.”

“A wedding?” Thorin asked with an arched brow as he placed the last apple in Bilbo’s bucket and rose back to his feet. “A properly planned one, I hope.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bilbo squinted his eyes as he followed suit and rose to his full height, which was a head shorter than the man in front of him. “If you’re implying our make-believe Vegas wedding would have any influence on this one, you’re sorely mistaken–”

“Uncle Thorin! Your blueberries!” Fili shouted, Kili toddling up behind him as the basket of berries was being awkwardly carried by the oldest of the kids.

“Thanks, Fee!” Thorin’s tone changed like the flip of a switch, not wanting to confuse his poor nephews with talk of weddings, husbands, and especially not Vegas. “Your mother will turn this into great muffins, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Fili and Kili shouted in unison as their big eyes landed on Bilbo. “Sorry about your ladder, Sir.”

“It’s quite alright, no one was hurt,” Bilbo encouraged sweetly, wearing that same tone that Thorin did that told kids that there was nothing to worry about here, even if moments before there had been bickering between himself and his…whatever Thorin was.

Wasn’t it like every married couple to bicker? That was another thought that made Bilbo shiver, but there was also something insanely humorous about it, which meant a real smile stretched across his lips.

“We need to make our way to the blackberry brambles and then we’re out of here. Say goodbye to Mister Bilbo.”

“Oh, like your neighbor Mister Bilbo?” Fili asked curiously, sending Thorin’s head spinning.

Way to expose that Thorin had talked about the guy on at least one occasion…by name…and in a non-malicious way, because why would one share that type of conversation with a couple of kids?

“Yep, that’s him, my neighbor Mister Bilbo, now…let’s go,” Thorin sighed, scooping up his basket of berries and prodding both boys at the back with his hands, “before you say anything else to embarrass me…”

And as Thorin prodded his nephews off, Bilbo simply watched in amusement, wondering if he had gathered enough berries for his impending baking frenzy…or if perhaps he still needed a few more baskets of blackberries especially before calling it a day here at the orchard farm.

Well…why not? Berry picking was most certainly a calming and favorite pastime of his and it had absolutely nothing to do with Thorin and his nephews making their way towards the brambles. Not at all.

[lit-in-thy-heart]

i'd just like a to take a moment to talk about this gif

more specifically, the dynamic between merlin and gwaine.

warning: s5 finale spoilers

this is the episode where merlin has lost his magic and every time i see it i just want to cry. you can see that, to begin with, merlin is just standing back and assessing the situation -- like he always does -- to see where he can discreetly help. then the bandit comes towards him and he completely flips out (understandably).

initially he obviously backs away, but he doesn't cover his head until the very last second, and his scream is honestly chilling because i don't think merlin has ever been this vulnerable before and it's terrifying him. but he also doesn't call for gwaine until the very last moment. he sees that the bandit is getting up and pushing him back but it's not until the blow is about to be dealt that he screams for his love friend. there is still a part of him that hasn't processed he no longer has magic and cannot defend himself. (it also begs the question why the knights haven't given merlin some sort of weapon in the last ten years, unless they think he repels death or something, but anyway.) and does he hesitate because he doesn't want gwaine to be hurt in saving him? or is it that, in that moment, the belief that gwaine can protect him slips and that's why he cries out?

and merlin is definitely shaken by this encounter. it's excellent acting on colin's part to convey the sheer terror at merlin being unable to defend himself and potentially put gwaine at risk by being unable to do so. afterwards, you can see just how deeply he's breathing and just how stunned he actually is. it's the first time that he has had to entirely rely on someone else.

gwaine, though. maybe it's my merwaine brain going into overdrive, but he is making merlin a priority. you can see that he's clocked the bandit going for merlin and is actually moving to stop him before merlin shouts. he doesn't even properly dispose of the bandit he's dealing with in his desperation to get to merlin in time.

and when they first attack, he angles his body so it acts as a shield for merlin. of course, that doesn't really work out because he gets too drawn into combat with one which allows the the other to attack merlin, but he tries.

i don't know why but it's the last bit that really gets me. the whole i'll-stab-you-without-looking thing is just urgh perfection, but it's his consistent eye contact with merlin. gwaine's expression isn't the softest because he's killing someone, but you can see that he's keeping his eyes on merlin to check that he's alright. and almost like he's saying 'this is for them attacking you'. we will never know what his expression was when the camera flicks back to merlin, but it is highly likely that he's silently asking merlin if he's alright, given their Interaction in the next bit:

(please ignore the juddering text, it's the first time i've giffed dialogue and I'm still figuring out text and frames)

so there's quite a bit that i want to say about this moment.

first of all, merlin is avoiding eye contact when gwaine helps him up. is this because he's embarrassed at being so dependent on gwaine or is it because watching gwaine fight made him feel things that are not helpful to feel on the eve of battle? probably. gwaine has obviously fought and protected merlin before, but (as far as i recall) never has had to save him from a death blow. this is the first time in a long while (again, i might be wrong, feel free to correct me) that merlin owes his life to anyone but arthur, who is part of his destiny. lancelot saved him when they first met, but that was years ago. merlin isn't used to be indebted to someone who he isn't duty-bound to protect, and if he wanted to repay the debt then, currently, he'd have to wrangle it without magic.

(merlin's eyes also go to gwaine's left hand which makes me question what on earth that knight is doing out of shot.)

and gwaine isn't smiling for a start: you can tell that he is genuinely concerned about merlin. and it must be pretty unnerving for gwaine, as well. despite all arthur's comments about merlin being a coward, gwaine probably sees merlin as incredibly scrappy when it comes to survival. he's always thrown himself into dangerous situations without a moment's hesitation and never shown fear. so for merlin to scream for him so desperately (i wish gifs could convey tone because my heart honestly breaks) must be incredibly unsettling and gwaine instantly jumps to merlin being injured. and when he does smile, it's not in the (seemingly) self-assured manner that we're all used to, it's in a very tender manner, as if he's trying to reassure merlin.

'there's no need to thank me, merlin. it's the least i could do.'

merlin makes eye contact here. i appreciate that it's not wonderfully giffed to align, but when gwaine says the first part merlin looks up. he definitely looks surprised at the fact that gwaine says he doesn't need gratitude, almost as if he's shocked by the implication that gwaine would do something like that and not want recognition, if that makes sense? merlin has never once received a word of thanks for saving arthur, and to have gwaine say that he doesn't want it possibly strikes a chord in merlin. because merlin doesn't save arthur for the gratitude; he saves arthur because (in whichever context you perceive it) he loves him (yeah, it started off as destiny for a start, but he does obviously grow to love arthur). so. if gwaine doesn't want thanks...then that means he loves merlin (again, platonically or romantically, it works both ways). and, just like the 'not arthur' s3 moment, merlin is caught off guard by the concept that someone cares for him enough to risk their life for him without a moment's hesitation.

and then -- 'it's the least i could do'. what more would gwaine do for merlin? or is it, perhaps, that he has some inkling that merlin has also saved his life many times over, and just wants to do the same for him? does he perhaps suspect that merlin does have magic? this line hits me so hard because you can see how much he cares for merlin, and just how blind merlin is to it.

and then the touch. the touch on the arm that is very similar to the one arthur gives to merlin. the touch that serves as reassurance and affection and i actually can't talk about this further because i will explode.

to summarise this stream of consciousness, then:

when it comes to himself, merlin doesn't know when to ask for help, mainly because he has taught himself that his needs are secondary and he shouldn't require it. but gwaine knows exactly when to give it because merlin deserves it, and would give him the world on a plate if he could.

[malachi-walker]

Happy birthday, Mal! I love your fics, they evoke so much emotion in me and have made me cry many a time. I don't often reread fics, but i've reread multiple chapters of Rhythm and Blues because they're stuck with me so much. You capture the emotional pain of their trauma and the catharsis that comes with their growth so beautifully. You also write some brilliant meta and just consistently post some fantastic thoughts. Also your love for swords is very appreciated. <3 have a lovely day!

First of all, my apologies for not replying sooner. I was making my mind up about something that would definitely require the use of a read more and thus necessitate dragging myself to desktop (which I hate because my laptop predates the dinosaurs.)

But seriously. Thank you so much. This is honestly one of the sweetest comments I've ever gotten and definitely made my already pretty sweet bday even better.

So about that read more. In honor of you, @metalesbo, my friends @n7punk and @jem-jarrett and everyone else who sent me well wishes or just really loves my work... Here's the opening section of the next chapter of R&B. Enjoy. It's a long one.

Adora Eternia is about two months shy of her fourteenth birthday when she first realizes she's in love with her best friend.

Though--if asked--she would hasten to explain that it wasn't when she fell in love. But trying to pinpoint the exact moment is an exercise in catching mist: the more she tries to grasp it in her hands the more it spreads out and covers everything. It just is: pure and simple and very, very complicated.

It's the beginning of December and the whole town is covered in a thick blanket of snow. Winterfest will be here in a few weeks, so to help out the kids who want to get gifts for their friends the Right Zone administration has shuffled around the groups that usually take their monthly trips on the third and fourth Sundays of the month to double up with the other two. As part of group three, she and Catra got the first week (the other three members of their crew are week two folks anyway and thus outside the reorganization.)

It's still kinda weird to think that: their crew. For so long, it was just Catra and Adora. Adora and Catra. One unit bound together, just them against the world. But there's also something nice about being part of a small cluster, their "scrappy little lone wolf pack" as Catra had once put it with a wry grin before Lonnie shoved her over with an, "Excuse you, I'm a great people person when I'm not busy making sure you idiots haven't set yourselves on fire!"

They all got a good laugh out of that one.

But regardless, the holidays are coming up and this is the first year that any of their group has felt like actually doing anything for it, aside from wrangling together a sleepover and seeing if they can convince the kitchen staff to slip them some leftover eggnog.

They made each other promise not to go too extravagant and keep each person's gift to ten dollars or lower. Even though their quarterly stipend has increased from three hundred to four hundred to match with inflation over the past eight years, it still isn't a whole lot for three month's worth of expenses, especially when they also have to budget regularly for clothes to keep up with the seemingly endless growth spurts.

There's also the usual budgetary concern of keeping her and Catra's first aid kit well supplied...

Adora shakes her head to dislodge the intrusive thought and continues marching onward through the snow. This trip is a good thing. She won't let all the awful realities of their life taint it.

With so many kids running around and wanting to shop on their own to surprise their giftees, Right Zone had to negotiate with both the local police and whatever other civic authorities they could get ahold of to come out en masse and keep an eye on them all. The kids had still come with their usual teachers, of course, but doubling the load and also splitting up was a logistical nightmare. Which is just a convoluted way to say the town is positively crawling with uniformed officers, off duty members of the fire brigade, emergency personnel, and other such authority figures quietly keeping watch and making sure no one tries anything.

Adora knows that somewhere in the press of bodies, Grizzlor's busy wrangling two new "brats" (seven and nine, respectively, and definitely not friends.) Somewhere, a certain Magicat is probably grumbling over the indignity of being forced to wear shoes and kicking every snowpile she can, like she can send a direct message to whatever cosmic force is responsible for her current frustration.

On an ordinary month she and Catra--being old enough to be allowed a bit more freedom to do what they want--would buddy up to watch each other's backs while they did their shopping. But this isn't an ordinary month, so once they'd each gotten gifts for the other three they'd split up on opposite ends of Main Street with an agreement to move clockwise to avoid running into each other. Afterwards, the entire group would rendezvous at the small clock tower in the park a block over before heading back to Right Zone.

Ten dollars wasn't a lot to work with, but Adora had done her best: a new stress ball for Kyle, some moisturizing oil for Rogelio since the early winter shed had wiped out his supply and he'd been too busy to pick up some more, a twelve pound kettle weight for Lonnie now that their shared exercise routine was getting a bit too easy for her... Utilitarian choices, to be sure, but she's been paying attention and that has to count for something.

Catra's the difficult one, of course. Partly because Adora doesn't want to just get her something practical, but also because they share nearly everything between them already. About the only thing that is definitively off limits is Catra's guitar, and she's told Adora enough about her time with Tao over the years that Adora wouldn't even ask. Beyond that... Well, there's a reason why most of Adora's day off hoodies have small strands of orange fur stuck to them.

Still. I want to get her something that's hers. Something she'll like. Something she doesn't have to share with anyone, not even me.

In the end, she nearly walks past it. In one of the artisanal shops that dot small towns like liver spots, she finds a display of hand stamped necklace pendants, with a design sheet beside it. There are a lot of the usual nature designs and such, but the one that catches her eye is a treble clef with the five staff lines bleeding out from it. They ring the edge of the pendant in a half circle, and scattered haphazardly along the lines are the other music notes.

The lack of proper order would drive Adora insane. She understands that it's just meant to look pretty, not be an accurate representation of musical notation, but still... She knows her own (broken) brain well enough to know that.

It suits Catra, though.

"Hey," Mismatched eyes looked down at Adora as her head draped backwards over the back of their desk chair, the throbbing behind her left eye threatening to escalate into a migraine. "Guess I don't have to ask how the composing's going."

"It sucks," Adora groused back, sitting up and gesturing Catra over. She jabbed at two particular spots with the half chewed off eraser end of her pencil, two hard jabs each, like she was filing a complaint. "Most of it is just what I'm going for, but these two places here... They aren't sounding right. I've been going back and forth over structure all afternoon, but nothing I do helps."

"Hmmm..." Catra stroked her chin and nudged Adora over so she could sit on the arm of the chair (they'd never gotten around to requesting a second, mostly because Adora didn't want to risk Shadow Weaver suspecting they were getting too chummy.) "Got any scratch paper?"

Adora pointed to the pile of half crumpled notebook paper she used when making adjustments and Catra snorted. "Ok, dumb question. Just let me see here..."

Grabbing a pen, she quickly inked a fresh set of staff lines and copied the notes Adora had already put down, making sure to leave space to work. Glancing between the two, she drummed her fingers on the desk, playing along in her head.

"Hmm..." Catra murmured, worrying at her lower lip with a fang in a manner that was... Oddly distracting. "Ok, how 'bout this?"

Adora jolted, tearing her gaze from Catra's face to look at the sequence of notes scribbled onto the scratch paper. She paused, brow furrowing as she played them over in her mind's eye. It was a little unorthodox, veering away from the path she had carefully laid out... But also blending well with the next part. Almost like the notes took a quick detour and then lead the listener back to where she wanted them.

"Yeah..." Adora replied thoughtfully, the tension all over her body starting to smooth out. "Yeah, that could work."

"Awesome. Let's take a look at the next part."

They ultimately ended up spending several hours going over the entire piece, sussing out every place where Adora was having even the slightest niggle of unease. She didn't accept all of Catra's changes and Catra didn't push the matter, but the ones she did...

They felt right. More right than they had ever felt when it was just Adora running circles around herself.

When they finally finished up she looked over at Catra, tail waving sedately in that way it got when she was simultaneously engaged but relaxed, and asked, "Umm... Do you want to learn with me? I like doing this."

'I like making music with you.'

Catra paused, looking over at Adora searchingly, almost like she couldn't believe the question had come up. No matter how many years had passed between them, that look never really went away, and every time she saw it Adora's chest ached in a way that was hard for her to process.

"I'd like that."

Catra's composing style is very different from Adora's. More wild, more willing to bend and break the rules if it means maintaining audience engagement, but there's always an underlying order to the chaos. To her surprise and pleasure, Adora found herself learning just as much from Catra as Catra was learning from her. Their styles brought out the best in each other.

The jingle of a bell kicks her out of the memory. Mind made up even though it's nearly double her budget, Adora scans the stand of necklaces for the one with the treble clef pattern.

It isn't there. Adora swallows down the disappointment, though she can't help the sigh. Of course. The town was well aware of the large population of music students a short drive away and catered to them accordingly. But there are also dozens of kids out on the street tonight. It isn't that big of a surprise that the design sold out.

Not surprising, but disheartening nonetheless.

She's just begun to turn away when a voice calls from the back. "Hang on a sec there, little miss."

Adora jumps, but remains where she is as a large Taurian man with a massive snow white beard trundles out from a door behind the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. "Was there a particular design you were interested in?"

Adora points at the treble clef, hope rising. "This one. But it looks like it's already sold out."

"Hmm..." The man scratchs at his chin. "Well with Winterfest coming up, I'm out of blank pendants-"

Adora's shoulders slump.

"-But," The man continues with a smile. "I can double stamp it onto the back of another. Ordinarily I'd charge extra for that, but it's my fault for not ordering enough blanks. Rookie move. Besides, it's the holidays. Now would that be all right by you?"

Nodding frantically in case he changes his mind, Adora scans the other designs, quickly alighting on one in particular. "That one!"

"The claw marks? Bit of an odd combination, but the customer is always right," The old man winked as he reached out to take the necklace from her. "My jig and press is in the corner over here if you wanna watch."

Adora was glad he specified, because as nice as the man seemed there was no way in hell she was going into a back room with a stranger. But she stood next to the window beside a display of miscellaneous knick knacks and puzzles, watching him carefully place the pendant in a cushioned stand to avoid damaging the already printed side and tighten it into place before moving beside the machine.

"You're gonna want to cover your ears," He tells her, patting the machine with one massive hand. "Had to switch to a steam press when the arthritis caught up to me. Used to do it all by hammer. This boy's okay, but he gets loud."

Adora nods, glad for the warning when he bellows "Clear!" and the machine's hammer comes down once, twice, three times with a sound like the ringing of an enormous bell. Once the machine is stopped and carefully turned off, the old man removes the pendant from the press and hands it over to Adora for inspection. "What do you think? Does it pass muster?"

Adora runs her fingertips over the impressions in the metal, memorizing the feel of it, the leftover warmth of the impact. "Perfect."

"Good. Now let's get you rung up."

Counting the five dollars she attempted to surreptitiously slip into the tip jar (the old man winked as he turned back around, so stealth fail) Adora went very over budget, but the others would have to put a gun to her head for her to admit it.

Besides, it's Catra. They already know she's the sole exception to all of Adora's carefully maintained rules.

With everything finished, she continues trudging through the snow toward the park, breathing a sign of relief as she moves away from the shopping district and the people thin out; no one wanting to go to the park in the middle of such bleak weather. Angling around a clustered group of bare trees, she spots the small clock tower in the distance, as well as the figure already standing beside it. Grinning, Adora picks up the pace a bit until she can see Catra clearly and--

Her breath catches.

Since her only experience with this kind of thing has been through books, Adora always expected this moment would be more dramatic. Like back to back in the middle of a fight, or eyes locking from up on stage. Something spectacular, like fireworks, lime explosions, like the feeling of playing a song without a single mistake for the first time. It's always seemed like such a big deal in the stories, and in a way, it is.

Because there's Catra, lost in her own world as she gazes up at the streetlight that's just come on, her left hand extended to let the snowflakes fall into her palm and the light catches the orange of her fur just right to make a blaze of color against the black of her coat. She looks so small, standing in that space all alone on a cold winter's night, but Adora knows deep down that she could never be that small, not when she's Catra, not when she means so much...

Pretty much everything about the past hour--about her entire life since they met if she's being honest--snaps into crystal clear focus.

Oh. I get it now. I'm in love with you.

It's a bad idea. Adora knows that. Shadow Weaver is enough of a menace while believing Catra is simply her roommate, her sometime tool--and Catra had ended up being all too right about the torture not stopping, even after years of Adora trying to direct Weaver's attentions away from her. If the evil old bitch figures out Adora's feelings run deeper, so much deeper...

Her heart beats double time. This whole thing is an unmitigated disaster.

But it's still the best worst thing that's ever happened to her.

She must make a noise, because Catra's ear twitches in her direction, snapping her out of that distant contemplation. She turns her head and looks at Adora, lips curling in a lopsided grin. "Hey, Adora. Wow, you look like you've seen a ghost."

Adora blinks, coming back to herself and mumbling the first excuse that springs to mind. "... Just cold."

"Well no shit. C'mere."

When she closes the distance Catra glances around warily, making sure they're the only ones around, before reaching up and retying the scarf around Adora's neck, patting it once when she's done. "There. I know I make it look good, but you don't have the advantage of fur like me."

Adora looks down at the thin AC/DC t-shirt that Catra's wearing beneath her half open coat, the line of her collarbones and neck, and makes a snap decision. "Is it okay if I give you your present now?"

Catra blinks, a little thrown by the non sequitur. "I mean... Sure? Do you want me to give you yours?"

"I'm good with either," Adora shrugs, trying to ignore how fast her heart is beating, how much she wants to do this before this moment slips away. "I just want to."

There's a long moment of silence as they each examine the other, equally searching. What Catra's looking for, Adora doesn't know. She isn't sure she wants to know.

"Okay."

Breathing deep, Adora reaches into her pocket and pulls out the necklace on its leather cord. Careful to keep the pendant hidden in her hand, she passes it over, fingertips sparking as it's taken. Catra brings it close to her face, running her fingers over the four parallel slashes on the side facing her.

"Why the claw marks?"

Adora laughs, nervous butterflies positively rioting in her stomach. "Because you're a badass. Duh."

"True," Catra smirks, flipping it over and squinting at the other side. "And this?"

"Badass, loves music with all your heart. Not mutually exclusive concepts," Adora says, trying not to give away how much she thinks about this, how much she wants to take that hand in hers. She settles for a playful shoulder bump instead. "Plus we all know you're secretly a big softie."

"Excuse you, I am all sharp edges," Catra giggles, lightly elbowing her before transitioning into a soft little smile. "... Just not with everyone."

Oh God oh God oh God. That smile will absolutely be the death of her.

Swallowing past her horrible awareness of that softness, Adora asks, "So you like it?"

"I love it. Good luck ever getting me to take it off," Catra laughs, then frowns, flexing her fingers. "Hands have gone a little numb, though. Help me put it on?"

Adora.exe promptly crashes to desktop. But she still somehow manages to move, helping Catra hold back her mane so she can slip the leather cord over her head and tuck it beneath her hair. If she hesitates a moment too long in letting go, at least Catra only shoots her an amused glance. "How's it look?"

"Great," Adora manages to croak out, trying to swallow past the sudden dryness in her throat. "You look great. Umm... Happy early Winterfest, I guess?"

"Well, I'm gonna hold onto yours a little longer," Catra laughs, playfully sticking out her tongue before reaching out. "C'mere, you big dork."

Adora shuffles closer, mind and heart both screaming as Catra draws her into a hug, nuzzling her head against the side of her neck. A little whisper. "Thank you."

Adora swallows again, even harder. "You're welcome."

Between them, the necklace rests, the music side pressed right up against Catra's heart.

----------

Fun fact: the shopkeep is based off a cool old dude selling machine pressed necklaces I ran into at a Scottish festival when I was 13, and he made such an impression I never forgot him. Anyway, happy Valentine's! Have a Big Gay Realization!

[swordandquill]

Title: Winter Break

Fandom: Leverage

Summary: The team find themselves snowed in in a little town in the middle of nowhere.

Ch 2: Fussing - Nate has to choose between supervising a shopping spree or supervising a grumpy hitter. He definitely chooses the lesser evil.

Author’s Note: I still don’t know where this story is going or when the next update will be. 

Many, many thanks to @whumpybliss for beta reading this chapter!

You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.

"I know what you're trying to do."

Eliot's glare was less impressive than usual, but Nate still would have bet his money on him. Not that he wouldn't always bet on Eliot, and with things much more valuable to him than money.

"Trying to get you to eat saltines, so you don't throw up when you take the prescription strength anti-inflammatories I know you have in your bag?" Nate waved the open sleeve of crackers in front of the hitter.

"Stop fussing," Eliot snapped and snatched the sleeve out of Nate's hand.

Now that Parker had pointed it out, Nate could clearly see Eliot was favoring his left arm. Or, possibly because Parker had pointed it out, Eliot was putting less effort into hiding it.

"They shouldn't be in there alone," Eliot pulled a few crackers out of the sleeve and shoved it back at Nate.

"They're not alone," Nate swapped the sleeve for a water bottle from the grocery bag at his feet, "they have each other. We might be living off of orange soda and Trix for the next two weeks, but I think they'll get each other out of the store in one piece."

Eliot gave him a dubious look but refrained from talking with his mouth full.

"Anyway, I'm listening," Nate tapped the comm he had slipped into his ear.

"Where's my…?" Eliot frowned and tried to reach behind the seat for his bag, wincing hard at the twisting motion.

"Stop it," Nate thumped his side lightly with the back of his hand, "I've got them. Parker hasn't managed to convince Sophie that Froot Loops are both a vegetable and a fruit. Sophie is giving her tips on being persuasive, and Hardison doesn't know the difference between a zucchini and a cucumber, but one of them has made it into the basket."

"How have they made it this far without dying of malnutrition?" Eliot let his head flop back against the headrest.

"Cereal is fortified," Nate said dryly and poked Eliot with the water bottle, "which bag are your meds in?"

"It can wait until we get to the cabin," Eliot grabbed the offending bottle away without opening his eyes.

Nate didn't have to wrangle an injured Eliot often. Most of the time, he was more than capable of managing his own injuries. When he wasn't, Nate usually let Parker take the lead in poking and prodding while he helped Hardison track down whatever medical help their hitter needed.

Parker needed to burn off some energy, though, and Nate would rather supervise a cranky Eliot than his team on a shopping spree. He had trailed Eliot through the first aid aisle, listened to him mutter over spices and knives on the baking aisle, and then dragged him back to the van with saltines and water bottles in hand.

"Just take the anti-inflammatory," Nate argued, "it won't make you drowsy, and the longer you wait, the less well they'll work."

"Stop. Fussing." Eliot growled, somehow managing to drink his water angrily. Nate was always impressed by how Eliot could make the most mundane tasks look threatening. Luckily for him and the rest of the team, Nate was not easily intimidated.

"Just for the sake of argument..." Nate started.

"No," Eliot said flatly.

"We're stuck in the car until Hardison picks a shampoo. Humor me," Nate ignored Hardison's protests over the comm about his sensitive scalp.

"They need to hurry," Eliot groused, 'the snow is getting worse."

"Right," Nate agreed and held the sleeve of saltines out to Eliot again. He was disproportionately pleased when the hitter grabbed a few more without protest, "so let's just say there really is some shadowy figure waiting behind the curtain to get us…"

Eliot raised an eyebrow at that, probably cross-checking his mental list of people who matched that description, but Nate ignored him.

"And they orchestrated stranding the five us in this specific tiny town, in the middle of nowhere, by waiting until we were both split up on five different planes, and there was a massive storm front to force our flights here…"

"Look, I know…" Eliot rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Which is possible," Nate continued to ignore him, "highly unlikely, but possible. After all, shady figures are usually good at seizing opportunity when they see it. So let's say all of that is true. What's their next move? Where do they expect us to be?"

Eliot frowned before reluctantly admitting, "They expect us to be stranded, at the airport or one of the hotels."

"Right," Nate nodded, "and even if they somehow anticipated us renting a summer house, it would be almost impossible to control which summer house we rented. Hardison must have skimmed through a half dozen search pages worth before we went after this one."

Eliot's frown deepened as he worked the problem and thought how he would have managed something like this from the other side. Nate let him be for a minute because he was still eating crackers while he thought, seemingly without noticing.

"There are ways they could stack the deck in their favor," he finally said slowly. "Knowing what we would want in a place to lay low, making it available even though it looked unavailable, monitoring Hardison for the search criteria he was using, then populating it with multiple properties that they have control of."

"Possible," Nate conceded, "ridiculously elaborate and unnecessarily complicated, but possible."

"So, one of your plans, basically," Eliot snorted.

"I don't have the patience to wait on mother nature," Nate let the jab slide, "my point is, the best thing we can do in this situation is not be where we're most likely to be. The rest, we'll just have to deal with as it comes."

"I know that. It's just…" Eliot just looked worn out now, tired of having to run through every scenario and possibility for every given moment.

Nate had figured out fairly early on that Eliot's paranoia was rooted in both a lot of experience and a lot of trauma. It meant they would be idiots to ignore him when he said something was wrong (and Nate had, unfortunately, been that idiot on more than one occasion, although he tried not to be these days), but they also needed to be a second check on those things for him sometimes, because he could always work his way around to those perceived threats being possible, even if they weren't probable.

It had gotten a lot better over the years, and the team had gotten better at finding ways to help him deal with it when it did come up. There was never a perfect solution, but they were more than happy to settle for an imperfect one if it made things at least a little better.

"And we'll deal with everything a lot better if you just take your diclofenac," Nate cut him off again, "so what bag is it in?"

"Duffel," Eliot conceded defeat finally, "they really do need to hurry."

"I know," Nate turned around and started sifting through the bags they had tossed into the third row of seats, "they're almost done."

Parker had been sitting in the back row, and she had rearranged the luggage that hadn't fit in the trunk to make a nest of sorts for herself around the middle seat. Nate had to practically crawl over the back of the middle row to reach Eliot's duffel bag, and he only felt a little bad for messing up her carefully crafted arrangement.

Eliot carried prescription meds with him and had for as long as Nate had known him. He had worried at first about the bottle of oxi that was always packed in the hitter's personal medkit. In hindsight, he could see the hypocrisy of constantly watching Eliot for signs of opioid addiction while simultaneously getting blackout drunk on a regular basis.

It had only taken a couple months for that concern to shift from Eliot taking too many painkillers to getting Eliot to take them at all. Two years in, and Nate had been worrying about why Eliot felt like jobs would leave him in enough pain on a regular enough basis that he would need to always have that level of painkiller with him. These days, Eliot and meds were mostly a bargaining act, a give and take informed by context and where Eliot's head was at at the given moment.

Oxi made him disoriented and dizzy; he wouldn't take it if he didn't feel safe. Diclofenac made him nauseous if he didn't take it with food (sometimes even when he did). Of the two problems, that was the easier one to solve.

Nate finally managed to find Eliot's duffel bag and pulled the medkit out, tossing the bag back in the pile of luggage for Parker to rearrange and poke through to her heart's content once they got back to the van.

"You want one or two?" Nate opened the kit and sorted through the neatly labeled bottles.

"Just one," Eliot was slumped back against the headrest again, eyes closed.

"You're out of Zofran," Nate shook the empty bottle.

"I gave the last of it to Sophie when we hit that patch of turbulence on the way in for the job," Eliot said dismissively, "it's fine. I'll refill it later."

Nate handed the pill and another water bottle over to Eliot, then texted Parker and asked her to get a bottle of Zofran from the pharmacy. A little thievery would do her good after 8 hours on a plane.

Eliot took the pill, and the van went comfortably quiet aside from the rest of the team's chatter in Nate's ear. It was surprisingly relaxing to listen in on them doing something as mundane as arguing over pasta sauce and gummy frog brands. They were on the comms a lot, but during jobs, there was a certain amount of tension, the constant need to be assessing and reassessing everything that happened.

Nate didn't care what kind of pasta sauce they got, and he didn't like gummy frogs, but it was nice just to sit back and listen to them be together.

There was suddenly weight against his shoulder, and Nate held still as Eliot gradually slumped more heavily against him, eyes closed and breath even. Nate waited until he was sure he was settled before shifting to get an arm around him and stop him from sliding down too far. Eliot fidgeted in his sleep for a moment, then relaxed with a soft sigh.

It wasn't that unusual for Eliot to sleep around them, but after how keyed up he had been at the airport, having him resting solid and relaxed against his side felt like winning.

[ladyfawkes]

THIS IS THE 2ND UPDATE IN 10 DAYS!!! FINALLY posted latest chappy....I spent an hour or two wrangling with the text editor on AO3. OY!! I hope y'all enjoy!! =) I'm not getting much feedback so it's difficult to tell if people are actually liking it or not. Tangled Just Before Ever After Chapter 3/? : Eugene's One and Only Current Word Count: 8040 Chapter 3 Summary: More satisfying character interaction. More homages. A nice loooooooooooong chapter, too. This is just too delicious to skip or gloss over, especially considering the happy couple likely only gets a few hours all to themselves before reintroducing Rapunzel to the royal family....and nothing is ever quite the same for them again.

Chapter 3: Eugene's One and Only “And...is that height a bad thing?” Eugene asked, trying to break the tension. His attempt at levity flew right over Rapunzel’s head, however.

“Of course it isn’t bad --” she said hastily, holding up her hands.

“Because I can slouch if you want,” Eugene interrupted, trying a bit harder this time, his shoulders slumping over so suddenly that it even startled Pascal a little. “How’s this, now?” The sight of Eugene arduously trying to appear permanently humpbacked, even with his lush upper body was so ridiculous that both Rapunzel’s and Pascal’s eyes bugged out and their jaws dropped. A spontaneous snicker escaped Rapunzel in spite of herself and one of her hands flew to her mouth.

“So….no?” deadpanned Eugene, on a roll now. “Because I can always go lower, you know.” Then he bent his knees until he was bow-legged in combination with the super-slouch, and he was schlumping around in front of her, back and forth, like some court jester. Rapunzel and Pascal burst out laughing. When he was satisfied the tension was fully dispersed, Eugene dropped the goofball routine, happy to see that Rapunzel’s nervousness had disappeared. The young man never wanted her to be afraid of him, even if it was merely over their height difference.

“That’s my girl,” Eugene grinned and affectionately set his hand against her cheek. Rapunzel perked up even more after he said it. “Hey, that’s really what I am now, aren’t I??” she replied wondrously, covering his hand with her own. “I’m your girl!!”

“Only if you wish to be,” Eugene amended softly.

“Of course I do!” Rapunzel exclaimed. Unable to contain herself, she bounced from the pads of her feet to her toes. “More than anything!”, and she bubbled over, launching herself into his arms with such sudden and wild abandon that Eugene nearly lost his footing. As soon as he regained balance, Rapunzel again sealed her lips over his and urgently showed him just how much she wanted him, wanted to be his girl and nobody else’s.

After they came up for air, chests heaving, Eugene braced Rapunzel against him so their foreheads could touch. “I want to be your girl,” she whispered, still breathless from their most recent dalliance. “Eugene’s girl.” And oh, how Eugene’s heart soared! “I believe you,” he answered fervently, positively giddy at the prospect. He could have sung….Eugene’s girl, indeed!!! It still sounded so fresh to his own ears. For Eugene hadn’t ever dared to approach a girl before; that territory had been exclusively reserved for one Flynn Rider. Until just two days prior, Eugene had always felt too shy or insecure to approach girls as his authentic self. Now he knew he’d found a great woman who wanted him for who he was, and not just for good looks, not for a projected façade, not for his illegal skills, nor ill-gotten gains, nor anything else. But it wasn’t just that.

For the first time in his life, Rapunzel had actually made Eugene love hearing the sound of his given name. It was both an unintended consequence and serendipitous gift. As far as Eugene was concerned, this gift was every bit the mystical miracle that Rapunzel’s tears saving him had been. Even the lilting musicality of the way she pronounced “Eugene” made it all uniquely special. He felt almost silly for asking, but he just had to hope she would "get" it. And as intuition would have it, he was right.

“Could you….could you say that again? For me, please?” he requested, so softly that Rapunzel nearly had to ask him to repeat himself. His thumb gingerly skimmed her bottom lip as he cupped her chin in his hand. She gazed into his eyes questioningly, but only for a mere second before she understood.

“I’m Eugene’s girl!” Rapunzel stated proudly, her smile beaming even brighter than midsummer’s day.

Overcome with lover’s euphoria, Eugene lifted her high above his head as effervescent laughter escaped from his throat, filling the air. Rapunzel’s laughter immediately joined him as he spun his princess in tight happiness circles across the cleared portion of the floor...and back. Hearing her say that with such love and sincerity meant more than he'd ever imagined.

Following their spinning, it was Eugene’s turn to be breathless as he pondered, utterly awestruck, “Whatever did I do in my miserable life to deserve someone like you?” He trailed a fingertip down from Rapunzel’s forehead and booped her nose. His question was rhetorical, of course, but the young woman answered him anyway.

“Hmmm…” Rapunzel considered. “Maybe it's because you….finally made some better life choices?” she quipped, with a twinkle in her eye.

“PffffSHahahaHAHA!!” The simple baldness of her reply caught Eugene so off-guard that he instantly released Rapunzel and burst into raucous guffaws in spite of himself. “I--I--” he attempted to reply but continued spluttering through his laughter so hard that tears leaked from his eyes. “I cannot argue with that! Not even a little bit!” And wow, did Eugene ever need this release! It had been one hell of a morning (or week) -- even according to Flynn Rider standards -- that’s for damned certain.

Rapunzel pondered innocently, “How can a person even ‘deserve’ another person, anyway?” Her face scrunched up in genuine confusion, which in turn made Eugene want to boop that adorable button nose of hers again. He had enough tact to refrain, though. She continued “Besides, it isn’t about what you deserve….it’s about sharing what you have, right? Sharing time, life, and building new dreams together.”

“My dear Sunshine…..” and Eugene clasped her hands within his, “once again, you are correct.” He brought her right hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. Before Eugene knew it, his diligent princess was once again checking up on his former wound.

“Sunshine, sweetheart, I can assure you that I’m quite all right at this time -- all thanks to you.”

“Yeah, I know….I know,” said the princess, hesitating. “It’s just that, well…..”

“...you keep waiting for life to drop the other shoe and just end the suspense? Get things over with already?” Eugene finished for her gently.

“Yes!” Rapunzel replied, “But….but how could you know? I’m always worried you’ll think I’m just being stupid or naïve or something...”

“I could never,” assured Eugene with utmost sincerity, shaking his head and again taking both of her hands in his own. He meant it, too. “And as far as me having anticipated your answer? That’s easy,” he said with a sad smile, “it’s because those self-defeatist emotions are nearly always born out of genuine need. It’s a hallmark of someone who never possesses quite enough. And admittedly," Eugene dipped his head back and forth in that self-deprecating way of his, "it's something I've seen an awful lot amongst those of us who must live life on the run. Your basic daily needs of food, clothing, shelter, and positive human companionship aren’t being met, no matter how hard you try,” he elaborated, looking down at the floor with a pained expression. Eugene tried hiding it, yet it seemed clear he seemingly wrestled with some long-buried memories that were closer to the surface than he’d let them come in a very long time. “And....then….without even realizing it, you become so accustomed to life’s tiniest happiness crumbs….that you actually start to believe it’s all there is to have. Without anything real to look forward to, you’ve overtrained yourself to deal with the inevitable, which winds up being…..” Eugene paused briefly in spite of himself before continuing.

“....bit-bitter disappointment,” finished Eugene acerbically, stuttering over the words. “Bitter disappointment,” Rapunzel said in unison with him.

“I’m so very sorry,” she continued worriedly, openly concerned that she had inadvertently caused Eugene to recall his own pained past, “we can talk about something else,” Rapunzel suggested. “The last thing I wanna do right now is dredge up painful memories from your childhood--”

“--it’s….it’s quite all right!” Eugene held up a hand and cut her off mid-sentence, eager to let her know that wasn’t at all the reason why he sounded so bitter and angry. "It's not what you're thinking."

Rapunzel was clearly puzzled. “Then….why were you sounding so harsh?” she tilted her head at him quizzically.

Again, she saw that sad, pinched smile -- and Eugene replied softly, much to Rapunzel's surprise, “It’s….it’s because I was thinking about your past, not mine -- that's all. Your upbringing….what it must’ve been like for you being lied to and promised things your whole life, only to have them yanked away when it mattered most.” He reached up a hand and tucked Rapunzel’s hair lock behind her ear and tugged her closer by grasping her wrists. She reflexively winced and sucked in a sharp breath.

“What is it?” Eugene hastily pulled back in alarm. “What’d I do?”

Rapunzel’s eyes had squeezed tight shut, and he looked down to see angry-looking red weals on her wrists from those god-awful manacles Gothel had shackled upon her that morning. Eugene gasped in spite of himself.

“Oh, Rapunzel," he indicated, his voice overflowing with guilt, "I’m--I’m so sorry!” For no reason at all, Eugene clearly felt personally ashamed it had taken him so long to notice these wounds of hers.

“I--it--really, it’s okay!!” Rapunzel reassured hastily, “truth be told, I didn’t even notice them myself until just now. Far too much happening at once, I suppose,” she smiled weakly.

If she weren’t already dead, Eugene would’ve had some very choice actions to visit upon Gothel at that time. Having been caught by some of the worlds most notorious bounty hunters and at times held in some of the world's most notorious prisons (however briefly), Rider had gotten far too familiar with nasty chafing from iron chains. In fact, it's the main reason he got such an infamous rep for picking locks. Pain can be an obnoxiously good motivator. But Eugene refused to dwell on that now.

“Do you have any healing salts?” he asked Rapunzel.

“Yes,” she said. “Across the floor in Gothel’s potions dresser. The second drawer on the left, clear corked bottle.”

“How about water and clean rags? Oh, and a small dish and spoon?”

“We’re out of water. But Gothel always got it from the spring behind the Tower. Spoon and saucer are over there in the cupboard.”

“The one with that waterfall? It’s also a water spring? That’s so cool!”

“Why, I s’pose it is!” Rapunzel agreed, having tilted her head in consideration. “I’ve never thought about it before.”

“I say we’ve definitely spent more than enough time in this place,” said Eugene, as he was gathering up a small bit of Rapunzel’s lengthy cut-off hair. “I have a feeling we’re gonna need this later,” he said seriously. Rapunzel was momentarily concerned with the sudden gravitas Eugene projected but it was gone before she could mention it to him.

Eugene was so pleased with Pascal’s helpfulness, he was nearly beside himself. As Eugene had turned toward the wall in order to tuck in his shirt properly without, ah, exposing things, the little chameleon had shown up at their feet again. This time he had Eugene’s satchel that contained Rapunzel's crown, the healing salts and clean rags, a dish and a spoon. “He’s so strong for something his size! Thank you, Froggy,” Eugene said, “for all your help. Just don’t hurt yourself, hmm?” And Eugene took his satchel from Pascal, who was suddenly indignant. He squeaked out something angrily to Eugene.

“It’s okay, Pascal,” Rapunzel soothed, “he was actually admiring your strength. Not insinuating that you are weak.”

“That’s right!” Eugene agreed, taking his lead from Rapunzel. “Pfffsh. Weak?? I could never think that. Not now, after watching you haul around something that’s gotta be 100x your size.” The little lizard grew proud and puffed up, and dropped the angry stance entirely.

“So,” Eugene turned to Rapunzel, who was again on the stairs, “were you needing anything else here?” He grabbed a purple ribbon from Pascal and tied it around the furled up lock of Rapunzel’s hair, stashing it carefully in his satchel. He slung the leather bag across his body.

“Nope,” Rapunzel stated firmly. “Nothing.” If Eugene was surprised by her resolve, he elected not to show it, instead saying, “Then let’s get the hell out of here.” And he looked around. “But….uhhhh,” he asked, suddenly stymied, “is there a way to get out of here that doesn’t require using the window?” He no longer had his arrows nor Rapunzel’s blonde hair to scale the side of the Tower.

“Over there is a trapdoor in the floor to a second staircase,” Rapunzel replied, pointing all the way across the floor.

“Right you are,” Eugene said, once again full of purpose. “However, as you are a barefoot maiden, I simply cannot have you pick your way across all that broken glass.” He bowed deeply to Rapunzel, much to her surprise. “Might I offer assistance to milady?” He straightened up and held out his arms to her where she stood above him on the stairs.

For a second or two, Rapunzel couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. After all, she really was royalty….but then she caught the quirk of his top lip.

“Oh, you….” she reached out and ruffled Eugene’s hair as they both laughed.

“In all seriousness, though, you can’t safely walk across this floor without shoes,” said Eugene and Pascal squeaked in agreement. “See? Even the Frog agrees with me.” Then, “Hey! I’m learnin’ your language, Froggy!” Eugene turned around to face Pascal, who had folded his arms in pretend annoyance. Yet Eugene’s enthusiasm made Pascal think better of it and the chameleon instead gestured the young man closer toward him on the floor. Eugene crouched down and Pascal hopped up on his knee, then up to his shoulder, and nuzzled against Eugene’s cheek. The man legit giggled. Like a little boy.

Rapunzel’s hands flew to her mouth in utter delight. She had no idea someone like Eugene was capable of laughing like that! It was so endearing that she was almost afraid of ruining the moment. In turn, Eugene had unexpectedly reached up toward the little chameleon. “And you’re ticklish, too!” exclaimed Eugene, as Pascal laughed in his own adorable scratchy-voice way.

As Eugene went to stand up with Pascal still on his right shoulder, Rapunzel said, “You’re right about the broken glass and my bare feet. “I saw someone in the town square doing this one thing….carrying someone on their back. Could we try that?”

“One piggyback across the broken glass, coming up!” confirmed Eugene with a smile. He stood with his back in her direction and instructed her to gently wrap her arms about his neck. “I’m gonna reach my arms backward and hook them behind your knees, okay?”

“Okay!” Rapunzel answered, with far more confidence than she felt. She needn’t have worried, though. Eugene’s arms were so large that even while reaching backward, he could support most of her thighs on just his forearms. It was only after he had situated her around his hips that it occurred to Rapunzel just how intimate her position could be. Instantly she had become supremely aware of just what proximity this piggyback might bring for the two of them. Pascal was also watching her, having hopped from Eugene’s shoulder to hers.

“Are you all situated, then?” Eugene asked. Rapunzel got the distinct impression it wasn’t the first time he’d asked the question. “Mhm…” she replied distantly, trying to deal with the sudden electrifying sensations overtaking her body as she sat with her legs around Eugene’s hips, her arms surrounding his neck and shoulders. “Off we go, then….” he continued.

Rapunzel’s lustful little button nose inadvertently brushed the nape of his neck. As she took in the now-intoxicating scent of his hair, Rapunzel quite nearly forgot how to breathe as Eugene’s walking motions across the floor awakened something deep within her netherregions. With each step he took across the floor, Rapunzel’s own hips involuntarily twitched and quivered a little bit more beneath her.

How was this possible?! A mere two days prior, when she had freaked out over the terror-bunny, Rapunzel had unintentionally wound up on Eugene’s back in a fit of pique. Back then she hadn’t felt anything like how she felt now; rather, she had been extremely embarrassed afterward! Yet the feelings she had at this very moment -- ones that made her want to bury her face into the man’s soft silky hair and the urge to wrap her legs and her entire self around Eugene and never let go weren’t exactly unpleasant but they were definitely unfamiliar. Unable to fully suppress a sound between pleasure or longing from escaping her throat, Eugene came to an abrupt stop and worriedly asked her if she was still okay. “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” she quickly replied, trying desperately not to blush yet again.

“Are you sure?” Eugene asked, showing uncanny perception with his ability to know when Rapunzel was keeping something from him.

The young woman quickly slid off of Eugene’s back and onto the floor by the trapdoor. Mumbling a distracted “thank you” to him, the princess mentally resolved to herself to have no more piggybacks until further notice. And to think she had so erroneously believed piggybacks would be a bit less intimate than having Eugene outright traditionally carrying her in his arms....

Rapunzel opted to let Eugene believe that her current, ah, frustrations(??) were related to something else other than the pinching tightness growing in her groin. It was just too blasted intimidating at that time to even think about bringing up her newness with romantic physical intimacy, especially with someone like him.

“Yes,” Rapunzel finally answered Eugene. That clipped reply had sounded almost mechanical, even to her…..and utterly foreign. The perceptive man folded his arms and replied gently, “Wellllll, that doesn’t sound very convincing. At all. Sooo...out with it. You can tell me anything, you know.”

“I’m--just--” she stuttered, not certain where to begin, only to blurt out, “have…..have you had many women?”

Eugene’s eyes widened and he blanched. He had known this was coming but he hadn’t expected the questions to come quite so soon. In his mind, the only woman Flynn Rider ever truly had was his ex-fiancé. And even then….he’d learned Stalyan had been such an over-controlling viper that it was her who’d secretly manipulated him into proposing in the first place. His discovery of the following became a huge part of why he’d walked away from her in the end.

Not to mention that in large part, Stalyan had been directly responsible for grooming him into the womanizer he had become. Once upon a time, when he was very young and still extremely naïve, it’s true that quantity of sexual conquests was what he sought -- exactly like most randy teens. Along came Stalyan who was so hyper-attractive and had such animal magnetism that it was almost unreal. She was six years his senior when she first recruited him and Lance and it had been far too simple for her to mold, coerce, and gaslight the impressionable 15-year-old Flynn into doing and becoming whatever she wanted.

But how on earth was Eugene going to explain all of that to his dearest Rapunzel without scaring her away?? He was already almost too terrified to even approach Corona again -- especially in light of his most recent escape that was witnessed by the entire royal guard -- though he wouldn’t let Rapunzel see the depth of his fear. The last thing Eugene needed to do was arm the noose-happy Captain with the knowledge of even more of Rider’s lousy past.