#that was probably worst thing that came out of my unemployment. that and i miss the children..... but its okay bc i [REDACTED] next month 😳

[loverofallthingssmart]

hello beloved tumblrinas. i will be back and active SOON. SOON i prommy there have been many things to update.

[pocketfulofrogers]

To Outlive the Devil

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Summary: A good save and a case practically solved leads to intelligence almost losing one of their own. Can you get out before it’s too late?

Notes: Canon violence, nothing worse than a typically dark episode. This is a past and present cut together story and it’s just shy of 4k. 

Now

Your bleary eyes open up to a cold and damp bedroom. An abandoned… apartment? The peeling wallpaper had given way to yellow stained drywall. From the small window on your left, it appeared as if you were several stories in the air, but there were no distinguishable landmarks that told you if you were even still in Chicago.

As you begin to come to your senses more, you feel the thick rope tied around your wrists and ankles. The rough material burns against you skin and you notice you already have sores.

How long have I been here?

Your memory is fuzzy and your head throbbed violently. It isn’t until you shift uncomfortably that you realize it’s a heavy metal chair you’re tied to.

Slowly your body begins to pick up on the danger your muddled brain had managed to identify and your pulse begins to quicken. As much as you try, your heartbeat continues to pound in your head as you try to twist your arms free.

The pain that responds is only a small price to pay for even the chance of freedom. Desperately, you continue to twist and pull until one of the knots manages to loosen up enough for you to squeeze your hand out. It’s just a short sprint to the front door in front of you.

You will your frozen fingers to work faster as you pinch and tear at each knot and then internally scream at your stiff muscles to carry you forward just a little bit more.

When your hand reaches the doorknob and it isn’t locked, relief floods your system. But when you’re able to wrench the door open, the person behind the door barely registers in your mind before everything goes black once again.

Then

Jay leans against his fist on his desk and tries to keep his frustration at bay. They’d been at this for two days straight and had been on the case for the last three months. “That’s two bodies in as many weeks. Is no one else starting to think…”

“That maybe hunting Chicago’s very own Criminal Minds level serial killer couple is out of our depth?” You interrupt, tilting your head towards him. “Doubt it.”

In fact, over the last two weeks, it’s the only thing you could think about. A younger woman named Madison roped, at least you were hoping she wasn’t a willing participant, into a horrific and violent life by a man you had yet to learn the identity of. You’d spent many nights pacing your bedroom, ranting and theorizing to Jay when all he wanted was just a bit of sleep.

The further you dove into it, however, the less hopeful you became for a quick arrest.

Voight had about ripped your head off when you suggested passing the case to the FBI and got to hear the ‘this is our city’ speech once again. But the truth was you were running out of ideas, running out of leads to chase down the rabbit hole, and running out of time.

“I hate to say it, but Voight’s right.” Antonio almost looks pained, but he continues on before you can question him. “The first time these two surfaced five years ago, CPD went full force. They shut it all down, had every uniform pulling overtime, and tried to smoke them out. Instead, it scared them into hiding.”

“Five girls in three months, Dawson, they’re escalating.” You take a breath before looking him in the eyes. “I can’t keep notifying parents.” There’s a certain pang in your voice only those who have had to watch a parent’s life crumble around them can hear. Jay reaches out to squeeze your forearm for just a bit of comfort and you run your fingers over his.

It’s enough.

“Then we end this.” Voight’s eyeing you, sympathetic to where you’re coming from, but not willing to give up yet. “Let’s find these monsters and make them pay.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you nod and turn to Adam. “Ok, let’s go over everything together, see if we can find something we missed.”

“Since it’s all we have, let’s revisit the address on Madison’s unemployment file.” Jay suggests.

Adam looks confused. “The house was condemned last year, torn down in the spring.”

“I know, but what about the name on the house, did anyone look into it?”

“Figured it was a stolen identity.” Kevin pipes up. “Clara Knight, died in 2012 of a heart attack at 66. No other properties in her name.”

“Knight?” Mouse perks up and starts shifting through his files. “I found a few erased emails from a Robert Knight, but I couldn’t find any relation or connection.”

Adam is already typing ferociously. “Got a death certificate for a Robert Knight, 68, died a few months ago. Seems like the guy barely existed.”

“Any children?”

“A daughter.” His face is grim. “Murdered in 99, she was 16.”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle. “Pull up a picture of her.” You don’t need to see it to confirm what you already feared, but still the image of her face churns your stomach. A beautiful blonde girl with the hope of the whole world in her smile. “He’s been at this a lot longer than anyone thought.”

“Any property still in his name?” Voight asks.

Anxiety rippling through your chest, it feels like an eternity before Mouse nods. “His nephew Isaac put his house in Roseland on a tax form.”

Now

When you come to, the first thing you notice is that your restraints have been changed to zip ties and for a moment you’re concerned about your circulation. You’re worry is cut short by the cup of water on a table to your right, the plastic straw close enough for you to reach it.

The sudden realization of the searing pain in your throat and the cracked skin on your lips lets you know it’s probably been about two days. It’s the dryness of your tongue that overrides every single rational thought of concern that maybe the glass beside you isn’t safe to drink. But, fifteen minutes pass with no incident so whoever it is probably wants to keep you alive.

The thought sends ice down your back.

Alive for what?

“What do you want from me?” You scream into the empty apartment.

Then

“We need a vacation after this.” Jay declares as he leans the seat of the car back a little. “Somewhere warm with water so I can look at you in a tiny bathing suit all day.”

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t miss the small smile you give before bringing the binoculars up again. “We’ll see what we can do about that.”

“Hey lovebirds.” Adam calls over the radio from the car down the street from yours. “Have you seen anything yet or are you too busy staring into each other’s eyes again?”

It’s Jay’s turn to roll his eyes. “Didn’t you just take your third piss break?”

“Hydration is very important.” He defends.

“I told him to wear the diapers.” Alvin adds. Adam tries to defend himself, but you can barely hear him over Kevin’s laughter next to him.

Just then, out of the corner of your eye, you see the movement of a curtain, the flash of blonde hair, and the air shifts. Jay immediately catches the tense set of your shoulders and starts asking questions.

“They’ve got a girl up there.” You tell him through gritted teeth.

“Are you sure? I didn’t see anything.”

You nod and get out of the car despite the hushed protests from Jay as he follows you. To do what? You weren’t sure yet but you had felt so powerless these last few months that maybe you weren’t being the most rational right now.

The curtain moves again and, rather than getting caught, you quickly spin around and push Jay against the car before crashing your lips to his. Other than a noise of shock sounding from the back of his throat, he doesn’t miss a beat.

“North corner window.” You mumble against his lips and slide your hands up his chest, tilting your head to the side to give him a better angle.

When he pulls away, he brings his phone up and looks you in the eye. “We’ve got confirmation on the nephew Isaac, but he’s got another girl up there. If we bust in, he might get spooked and hurt her.”

It’s quiet longer than either of you would like.

“What should we do, boss?” Adam asks for you.

“Do you think you can get in quietly?” Voight asks.

Jay waits for your nod. “We’re on it. Going silent.”

Picking the lock was nothing. Sneaking around a house you know nothing about except for a quick glance at a blueprint from 2005 was the difficult part. Jay splits the two of you up, sending you upstairs while he clears the lower level. Circumstance didn’t allow you the option to argue with him that splitting up in a situation like this is the worst thing to do.

He was your partner and it was your job to always have his back, as difficult as he makes it, but he’s rounded a corner into the living room before you get the chance to cuff him to you.

Your breath catches in your throat when a step on the stairs creak, but you keep moving until you find a girl in the second room you clear. She’s blind folded with on leg tied to the bed. She tenses when you approach, but relaxes once you’ve gotten close enough to whisper who you are.

“Tracey.” She says he name with a whimper and your heart breaks as you cut the rope and take off her blindfold.

When she sees you’re really who you say you are, she throws herself into your arms and begins to cry. There’s nothing more you want to do than to sit here and comfort her, but your ears picks up on a man’s voice you don’t recognize.

“Ok, Tracey, I know you’re so scared, and I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I need you to be brave a little longer.” You pull back and look her in the eyes. “My partner and I came in here alone. I need you to tell me where the man and woman who took you are.”

She nods. “I don’t know where she went, she left a while ago. He’s here, downstairs I think, in his office.”

There’s a crash downstairs, the sound of broken glass and your blood runs cold. Immediately, you look for any other way out, but there’s nothing. No balcony, no window, nothing. Voight’s on the radio already, but you silence him.

“Stay directly behind me.” There’s a kind of urgency in your voice that puts her even more on edge.

Creeping down the stairs, you can hear Jay struggling in the kitchen, but it sounds like he’s holding his own.

“Bringing the girl out.” You whisper into your radio and glance back at Tracey. “As soon as we get down, I want you to run to the door. Do not stop. When you get across the street there are people who will help you.” She nods but she looks terrified. “I swear I won’t let him get anywhere near you.”

It’s the door opening that alerts Isaac that something else is going on. You round the corner with your gun drawn and the scene before you makes your knees weak.

Jay is bruised and cut up, struggling against the man behind him, the arm around his neck, the gun pointed at his head.

“She said you were cops, but I told her she was paranoid.” Isaac snarls.

“Madison? Is she here?” You ask, your voice as level as your gun trained on his head. Voight is yelling over the radio, but you tune him out. “I’d love to meet her.”

He snickers and smiles wickedly. “Even if she could be caught, neither of you will be alive long enough to see it.”

He only manages a twitch before you pull the trigger and land a shot right between his eyes.

Jay falls forward, breathing heavy and you rush towards him. “Jay’s hurt!” You call out when the door is broken down. Adam kicks the gun away from the obviously dead suspect and you let them handle the scene.

“Where does it hurt? Did you get hit? I told you it was stupid to split us up! How’s your breathing?” Your hands are frantically searching every inch of his body. He has to grab your hand and grip it tight in his to stop the assault of questions rapid firing from your lips.

He sits up with a groan and kisses your knuckles when he sees the panic on your face. “I’m okay. Because of you it’s just a few cuts and bruises.” He manages a smile and you almost cry right there.

Voight places a hand on your shoulder. “Tracey is on her way to Med. Medics said she’s going to be okay. We’ve got another bus on the way for you. Nice work you two.”

Now

The creak from the front door opening pulls you from a daze and you wince at the sunlight flooding the room. A blonde woman stands before you with a duffle in her left hand and a gun in her right.

She tilts her head to the side. “You’re still alive. What a shame.”

You struggle to focus your eyes from the concussion you’re assuming she must’ve given you. “Maddison.” You croak out. “What are you doing?”

She drops the duffle next to you and grips your hair to pull your head back, pushing the barrel of the gun into your temple.

“I’m going to make you suffer.” She hisses and roughly lets you go. “I tried to warn him that you were watching us, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Isaac?”

“Don’t say his name!” She screams and the sound cracks through your skull. “He told me to get some supplies, but when I cam back, I watched from the back window as you murdered him.”

You shake your head and try to reason with her. “Maddison, he was hurting people. He was going to kill my partner.”

“Partner.” She repeats sarcastically. “You mean Jay Halstead, your boyfriend of 3 years?” Maddison moves in front of you to revel in the fear that has filled your eyes and smiles sinisterly. “Yeah, I know who he is.”

You start quickly, the panic in your voice betraying the training you were struggling to hold onto. “If you want to kill me fine, do it. But don’t hurt him, Maddison. Please, he’s done nothing.”

She tsks as she opens the duffle and begins to pull out long metal pieces until finally, a long-barreled shot gun. “Why would I kill you when the alternative is so much better?”

You begin to struggle against the restraints as your mind starts to put together scenario after scenario of awful images. Maddison pays no mind to you begging and pleading to see reason. Instead, she pauses from building some contraption to walk over to you and jam a needle in your neck.

When you come too again, she’s sat casually in front of you. “I thought hitting you in the head again might actually kill you, and that’s not what I’m going for, so… you’re welcome.”

You glance around again and notice the barrel of the shotgun behind you just to the left of your shoulder. “Yeah, thanks.” You deadpan looking back at her. “What’s with the ‘Saw’ set up?”

She raises a brow. “Hold onto that strength while you can.” She points out the wires and hooks running along the floor and ceiling to trace it back to the door in front of you. “I used to be a STEM major. Did you know that?” She doesn’t stop long enough for you to respond. “Turns out I still remember a few things.”

You stare past her towards the door and then look quickly back to the gun, beginning to piece together her plan.

“Yes.” She coos. “It’s exactly what you’re thinking. The first person that opens that door, if he happens to be the right height, will get a life ending shot to the face. And I’d like to ask you what the chances are that anyone other than your boyfriend will be the first through the door.”

None.

For the first time you feel utterly defeated, hopeless. Madison watches closely, soaking in every moment of your anguish.

“Now you’ll know what it feels like.”

Then

You phone buzzes for the fourth time in the last hour. “Yes?”

“He’s actually insufferable, where are you?” Will speaks quickly, his tone seeping in irritation.

You laugh. “April already sent me out to get him food because he was whining so much. I am in route with a burger and some other stuff from his favorite place. Should be there in 15.”

“Thank god.” He says quietly. “Would you give it a rest? She’s 15 out with enough food to hopefully put you in a coma so I don’t have to.” You laugh as Will continues to yell at his brother.

“I almost died! Where’s your compassion?” You hear Jay yell back and only laugh harder

“You have ONE bruised rib and a concussion. I’ve seen high school football players handle worse with less complaining!”

“If it’s not so bad, why won’t you let me leave?!”

“I’m stepping up the pace, be there soon.” You laugh and hang up.

The Chicago night was chilly, but something else causes the hairs on the back of your neck begin to prickle. You don’t stop walking, don’t even pause a single step. Instead, you glance in a shop window and catch the reflection of a woman, a flash of blonde, not too far behind you.

Casually, you switch the bag of food to your other hand, but before you’re able to grab your gun, there’s a pinch in your neck and everything goes black.

Now

Jay had forced his way back to work sooner than anyone recommended. You’d been missing for 5 days. Disappeared with no trace other than your cell phone and a bag of cold diner food spilt on the sidewalk. If it were up to him, he would’ve been at his desk the moment 30 minutes hit and you weren’t there.

Alvin called two hours later telling him what they found and Adam and Antonio had to physically restrain him, Will almost sedated him. Voight promised him that they’d find you, and Jay knew they’d do everything they could, but he needed to be a part of the search.

“Did she have any enemies?” Alvin asks and he doesn’t flinch when Jay begins to laugh sarcastically.

“Any enemies? Do you hear yourself? She had tons. We all do. But let’s stop pretending like her being taken the day we closed that case isn’t connected.”

Alvin tries to sympathize with him. “We have to ask. You know the drill.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “Are you seriously going to treat this like any other missing person? It’s Y/N, Al! Y/N!”

“We know.” Voight says from his office door. “I made a few calls, Jay, we know where she is.” For a fraction of a second, Jay is frozen, but the thought of what you could be going through right now moves him. He’s grabbed his jacket and is in the car before anyone else has moved.

“I thought only the CIA had access to things like that.” Adam whispers lowly in the car into Kevin’s ear.

He shrugs. “Do think it’s out of the question that he’d break several constitutional laws to save any one of us?”

Adam sits back in his seat with pursed lips, nodding.

You struggle against the restraints long after Madison leaves you with only a gag in your mouth. The multiple cars pulling up and all the people shouting told you that you were running out of time. As of this very moment, you were locked into your fate of watching the man you loved die.

This was not an option.

The hard plastic digs into your ankles and wrists, your movements quickening with each door you hear them break down. You try to scream, to warn whoever was on this floor that there was a danger they couldn’t possibly see, but your muffled cries wouldn’t carry.

Tears soak the bandana shoved in in your mouth and you try to scream again.

No! Stop! It isn’t safe!

You hear Voight’s voice a few doors down and begin to try and rock the chair back and forth. It was considered heavy for a good day, and today was not that. Having not eaten or really moved in so long had left you weak and foggy. The adrenaline coursing through you veins only aiding a little in your efforts.

The sound of the front door breaking down sends a jolt of energy through you and you send yourself flying in front of the gun just as the bedroom door opens.

Jay raises his weapon at the sound before his brain can register what has happened. His wide eyes find yours just before you’ve hit the ground.

“Y/N!” He screams and rushes towards you. Frantic, shaky hands move quickly to remove the bandana and zip ties before applying pressure to your shoulder. “I need a medic!” He calls franticly over his shoulder, but when he turns back to you, he has to shut down the thought that you might not make it that long.

“You found me.” You try to say, but instead sputter blood onto your cheek.

“Oh, God.” He gasps. “You’re okay, you’re going to be fine.” But the more he says, the less you hear him.

“I love you.” You try to reach out to his face and graze his cheek, but your fingers won’t cooperate and only leave smudges of blood across his skin.

When your breathing starts to quicken and become more raged, he knows time is running out. So, in defiance of the orders and suggestions coming in through his ear piece, he lifts you up to cradle you to him and runs.

**

An annoying, incessant beeping is the only thing you can hear, but when you move to reach for it, a shooting pain stops you cold. You groan softly and pry your eyes open only to see both Will and Antonio hovering too close to your face.

Will starts to wave a flashlight in your eyes and you push him away. “When was the last time you guys brushed your teeth?”

Antonio chuckles softly and places his hand atop your head, his thumb brushing softly. “We got her.” He says quietly. “She couldn’t help herself. She stayed close to the scene to see the fallout and Kim caught her.”

Will nods his head towards Jay who was sleeping soundly in what you had to imagine was a very uncomfortable position. “We’ve been keeping an eye on him as well as you. Do you want me to wake him?”

You look back over at him and smile before turning back. “Better not. These are the last few moments of peace I’ll get for the next year at least. You would think someone would be a little more grateful towards you for saving their life, but I can already hear how mad he’s going to be.” Only a small part of you is joking.

“Well, I’ll get shot next time and we’ll see how you feel.” Jay’s sleep riddled voice carries from the corner, but he hasn’t opened his eyes yet. “I’ll give you an hour.” He adds before settling back in.

Now that’s the love of my life.

[razorsadness]

“Getting out of Chicago was the best the worst a thing that happened to me.,” from Sad and Beautiful World #14, c. late spring 2009

[text ID under cut]

Hey, Nelson Algren, I came to Chicago hoping to make a name for myself, to find a voice and maybe some fame, and what happened?—I wound up doing unspeakable things in the back of four a.m. bars for just one more doubleshot of whiskey before I had to go. Hey, Carl Sandburg, I came looking for romance and big things, and instead I found empty pockets and heartbreak.

I left Chicago in March 2005, I left cos I needed a change of scenery, a break from my longest-running affair with a city; I left cos my Lady of the Big Shoulders beat me down with doubleshots of whiskey, beat me down with unemployment & heartache & overpriced cigarettes; and yes the ghosts were getting so thick I couldn’t breathe, and everything was gray & wind & a cold water flat in Pilsen, and all the big dreams I’d had when I moved to Chicago had smashed like bottles in the street. I sat awake in bed on my final almost-dawn there, bedroom window open to smell the neighborhood, a smoke of sweet corn tortillas and laundry detergent. I could hear that the man in the apartment building ‘round the corner was once again playing his scratchy records of mysterious sad Spanish zarzuelas. I sat awake and wrote so long, farewell lists in my journal to all the Chicago ghosts I’d miss most. Goodnight to the Fourth World, goodnight to the brothers Duggins, goodnight to the old woman who sold the pot muffins. Goodnight to the Fireside, goodnight to Miss Lucky Strike, goodnight to the Rat Patrol and their tallbikes. Goodnight to the A-Zone, goodnight to the few weeks of spring, goodnight to the diners, the coffeeshops, and everything.

Real quick after I left, the glamoured light of nostalgia made the bad things seem not-so-bad and the good things seem fantastic, and all my grand reasons for leaving were scraps of paper blown away. I didn’t just leave the city, see—I left part of myself there, some of my grit & spirit, it hid out beneath the el tracks between Belmont & Addison and stayed on without me, probably was still there drinking forties and giving the finger to Cubs fans during baseball season. Funny, I’d once wished to disappear right beneath the very same stretch of the el, wished to turn into vapor and hover around the trains like what happens in the winter when sometimes they gotta set the tracks on fire to keep ‘em from freezing over. I never disappeared into steamclouds, but I left part of myself hovering there nonetheless, and other folks noticed it too, I’d come back into the city for a day and familiar faces would look at me bug-eyed like they’d seen a ghost and say—Where the hell’d you come from, I thought you vanished. I got my long-ago wish; I should’ve been more careful what I wished for.

[butwhyduh]

The Batmobile

Jason todd x reader

Warning: angst, fluff, smut, it’s fucking in the fucking batmobile 🤷🏻‍♀️😏

It was a whole year ago that you found out about Jason being Red Hood. He had left a spare helmet in the back of his closet and you had pulled it on top of you when you grabbed a hoodie. After mentally freaking out, Jason had gotten you a bag of ice for the knot on your head.

It took a whole freaking year of knowing his secret and almost 2 years of dating for you to be invited to the Wayne Manor. Okay, actually Bruce had invited you within the first 6 months of dating. Jason was the one who wanted to keep you a secret.

You spent a good 2 hours looking through your entire closet to find something to wear. What the hell do you wear to dinner at a billionaire’s house? You relaxed a little when you saw Jason wearing plain jeans and a hoodie. Okay, yeah good. Casual was better. Not to mention that you were taking a motorcycle there.

You arrived in skinny jeans and a leather jacket that felt like a protection. You could act like a punk and most people won’t touch you. Especially when Jason had the scowl he was currently wearing. You followed his eyes to see the unmistakable form of Bruce Wayne in the drive.

Did Bruce specifically find children that resembled him? Much like Jason he was tall and muscular with dark hair and as you got closer you could see he also had blue eyes. He had a few wrinkles around his eyes and grey in his hair that seemed to add to his beauty rather than take it away. You’d never met a billionaire before.

“Hello,” Bruce said.

“Hello.” You shook his hand.

“I apologize for not having you over sooner but Jason seems to have wanted to keep you a secret,” he said with a tiny smile you almost missed.

“I wonder why,” Jason whispered sarcastically. Bruce ignored it. “Hello demon spawn,” he said and you gasped at the person you hadn’t seen before standing only a few feet from you.

“Damian Wayne,” he said with his hand out to you. You shook the young man’s hand and stated your name. He was only a inch or two within your height despite his youth and heavily resembled his father except for his deep olive skin tone and green eyes.

The door opened and a voice called out, “perhaps you should bring your party inside the manor. It will be snowing soon.” The polished English accent must have been Alfred.

Bruce moved to the side and you all walked in. Alfred had walked to the dinning room. The hallway had deep polished wood walls and was dimly lit by candles on candelabras. As you walked towards the room, a warm body grabbed your hand and you shrieked.

“Sorry! Sorry!” He said releasing your hand. You flushed, embarrassed. “I thought you saw me. I’m Dick.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

Jason grasped your hand and stepped towards Dick with a look of murder on his face. You put your hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. It was an accident,” you said with a little awkward laugh. Jason relaxed a little.

Alfred stood in the doorway to the dinning room with a small smile. He gently cleared his throat and you all followed him in the dinning room. It was then that you truly took in the beauty of the house. You had been too nervous about meeting his family when walking in.

The room was breathtaking. A long mahogany table was lined with emerald tuffed chaired and heavy gold curtains over the windows. The wooden floor gleamed and you noticed that your feet were the only ones making any noise as you sat down.

“Hello master Jason. It’s nice to see you here again. And you must be y/n. I’m glad he finally brought you around,” Alfred said quietly, shaking your hand. “Excuse me, I must serve dinner.”

A lovely smelling soup was placed before you all and water and wine was served. You watched as everyone ate. Bruce ate casually while Dick animatedly told a story. Another brother, Tim, shook your hand across the table before eating and typing away on his phone. Jason stared at Damian while eating and the teen glared back. You put your hand on Jason’s knee and he seemed to relax a little.

“I need to speak you, Jason, about work after dinner,” Bruce said casually. All of Jason’s tension came back.

“Not today,” he said. “We can talk later.”

“Well it’s quite important WE business,” Bruce said and everyone at the table watched the two closely.

“Is that why we came over? For you to talk business?” Jason said. He almost had a grimace on his face.

“Of course not. We wanted to meet your girlfriend,” Dick interjected. Jason ignored him.

Bruce finally spoke. “He’s right. We can talk about it later. Tell us more about yourself, y/n.”

“Oh, uh...” you said quite put on the spot. “I’m a photographer.”

“You should have brought your camera. The courtyard can be very pretty in the evening,” Bruce said. “Do you work for a newspaper?”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Jason scoffed.

“I don’t. I mainly take portraits but I have been taking urban photos lately,” you said. “Like the effects of urban areas. I mean-“ you felt a loss of words to describe what you meant.

“She takes photos of the worst parts of Gotham to expose the poverty. That’s where we met. I don’t really let her go alone anymore,” he said with the smallest hint of a smile. “It’s pretty damn dangerous.”

“I’ve been fine,” you insisted and Jason thought back on the multiple shady characters he’s had to beat for you to get your shots without knowing what he was doing. “But I’m putting together a piece for South Gotham Gallery. A few more shots and it will be complete.”

“I’ve heard certain areas can be very dangerous,” Dick commented. “I would be very careful. Especially with a camera.”

“Yeah, like the East End,” Tim said.

“I grew up there,” you admitted with a laugh. “Stay away from Crime Alley and you’re probably okay. During the day.”

“It’s unwise to visit at all. Crime has risen 11 percent in the past 3 years,” Damian said. Alfred served a salad next.

“And unemployment by over 15 percent in the Bowery. That’s why I’m doing my piece. Poverty and crime is caused by wealth,” you said frankly before realizing that you just said that to a bunch of billionaires. Jason stifled a snicker.

[[MORE]]

“I suppose so,” Bruce said slowly. Jesus, you had just insulted your boyfriend’s adoptive father.

“Sorry,” you said quietly looking at your salad.

“It’s fine. It’s true,” Jason said with a shrug.

“So do you two live together,” Dick asked, changing the subject.

“You’re saying that crime is caused by wealth? Can you explain,” Damian said. Jason almost crushed the stem of his wine glass.

“I just mean, Gotham’s rich have gotten richer and the poor poorer and the ones with the money can control that,” you said delicately.

“So the rich can prevent poverty? All poverty?” Damian asked. And to the 13 year old’s credit, he just seemed to be curious. He could clearly feel the tension he was creating but didn’t actually care as he wanted answers.

“Paying people enough to live, healthcare for all, rehabilitation services that actually rehab, good education. All will help prevent crime and poverty. Many studies have shown this,” you said and you wanted to remain impartial but your voice betrayed your passion for the subject.

“We donate and run many foundations that support most of those things. Right father?” Damian asked. You sighed but kept silent. Throwing money doesn’t solve a problem.

Bruce cleared his throat. “Yes.”

“Drop it Damian,” Tim said. He roughly stabbed at his salad.

“I just want to know how she could possibly know what the rich do if she has always been poor.”

Jason crushed the stem at this point. “Shit,” you said quickly wrapping his bleeding hand in a handkerchief from the table. He looked close to exploding.

“Don’t forget that she’s not the only poor kid at the table. I grew up on the streets and moved here. Rich people are shit,” Jason said. He started standing and Damian watched him with a glint in his eyes. He was ready to fight too.

“Sit down, Jason,” Bruce commanded. “He’s just a curious boy.”

“Not surprising. He gets it from his old man. Disregard for anyone else,” Jason all but growled. Tonight was only the tip of the iceberg. You put a hand on his forearm. The last thing you wanted was a fight.

“You’re angry,” Bruce said quietly. He swallowed harshly. “Sit down.”

“I’m a grown man,” Jason said scoffing.

“Not acting like that,” Bruce said. Jason’s hands twitched towards his gun on his hip but he resisted the urge.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here. Alfred, food was great. Fuck you, Bruce,” Jason said grabbing your hand.

“Don’t leave,” Dick called as Jason pulled you down the hall. He didn’t go towards the front door but downstairs to a garage. There was probably 20 cars. Many of them were cars you had never seen in person.

“You wanna go for a drive?” He asked and you felt a thrill.

“One of these?” You asked.

“Nope,” Jason said pressing a code into a computer. A hidden garage door opened to expose a very conspicuous vehicle. The batmobile. You’d definitely never seen that car in real life.

“Seriously? Won’t he get mad?” You asked a little shocked.

“Fucking furious. We’re just going to get something to eat,” Jason said grabbing the key and unlocking it.

“Ugh... what the hell? Why not? Yeah,” you finally said. You knew the value of not missing a ride in the freaking batmobile. He grinned and opened the door for you. You climbed in and noticed a billion buttons. As Jason started the car, a string of lights pulsed on before the car showed multiple sensors. Jason pressed a few buttons before shifting the gear and driving out of the garage. The front gate automatically opened and he started putting on some speed once the car hit the road.

It felt like he was driving 50 when the speedometer was showing a cool 120. Your heart beat quickly in fear and excitement. Jason slowed down to 70 and grasped your hand. You could see tiny little cuts on his hand from the glass he crushed earlier.

“Is your hand okay?” You asked looking it over.

“It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt at all. Let’s get some food. I know a spot. But you’ll have to wear this,” he said pulling out a small black mask to cover your eyes. He took his own. “Can’t exactly drive the batmobile and show our face.”

The spot he knew was a tiny little taco truck strung with Christmas lights and a white board advertising “elotes con chile y limon.” It was on an empty corner lot in a not so great area of Gotham. It was extremely conspicuous as the pair of you got out of the car. Most people watched but as they thought they were watching freaking Batman order tacos, they didn’t say or do anything.

“Hello,” said the truck owner nervously. “Would you like something to eat? Elotes? Carnitas?”

“Yeah, 6 carnita tacos with cilantro and lime. A Mexican coke. 2 orders of sopapillas. What do you want?”

“That’s all for you?” You laughed always amazed at the amount he could eat. It made sense with all the energy he used but still. “Same but just 2 tacos and and a coke.”

Jason wrapped an arm around you waist and swayed slightly to the Mexican music playing in the truck. People started to get used to you both being there. Maybe Batman just wanted some tacos?

After receiving a plastic take out bag with foil wrapped tacos, a sign of good tacos, you both climbed back in the car. The masks were haphazardly tossed on the dash. Jason drove you both back the way you came and you wondered if you were going back to the manor when, no he was taking you to a quiet rest stop outside the city. You ate the tacos and sopapillas on the hood of the car. You watched as Jason added way to much spicy green chile sauce to his tacos.

“Want some?”

“I choose life but thank you,” you said. You giggled as he cleared his throat and gulped down his coke. But to his credit, he ate it. Maybe he just enjoyed pain? “Now what?” You asked watching the stars. They weren’t visible in the city.

Instead of answering, Jason pulled you close. Your back against his chest and he wrapped his arms around you. You held his hands and looked at the little scars that littered his skin. Always fighting. Jason bent to kiss your neck.

“Wanna be really bad,” he asked with audacity that you knew meant something interesting. You leaned into him more.

“What do you mean?” You purred. Dating a guy like Jason Todd, you weren’t exactly new to taking some risks.

“Let’s fuck. Right. Here,” he said and with every word he slowly spoke in a husky voice, he pushed his hips against you and you knew exactly what he wanted. You went to turn in his arms but he moved quicker and you were quickly bent over the car with a gasp. He pulled off his jacket and threw it on the hood. Little did you know but he was covering the camera.

Jason’s hand ran along your back and you shivered as your skin pressed against the hard metal. He kissed the back of your neck and kneaded the flesh on your hips and he ground his hard on against you. “Fuck you’re pretty. And letting fucking Bruce know what you think of the rich. That was hot as shit. I’ve been wanting to do this for months.”

“This was on your bucket list,” you asked grinding your hips back against him. “To bend me over the batmobile and fuck me?”

“Jesus,” he said before pulling down your jeans and panties in one push. You shivered at the cold air touched your ass. “Your fucking mouth, Princess. I love it.”

You weren’t cold for very long because after a few seconds of rustling with a belt and zipper, you felt Jason press against your ass. He rubbed his cock through your folds a few times before pulling away. You turned to whine only to see him rolling on a condom. He sunk into you without ceremony. His fingers roughly held your hips as he thrust into you.

You moaned and the echo reminded you that you were outside. Anyone could come up on the pair of you fucking on the goddamn Batmobile. It made you moan even louder. He rubbed his hand up and down your spine before sliding down to the front of your body to rub your clit. It didn’t take long for you to grip him tighter.

“Fuck, Princess, are you close?” He moaned in your ear. His thrusts were rough and deep and his fingers moved quickly over your clit.

“Yeah, oh shit, yeah,” you moaned. “Jay,” you whined when he readjusted his hand.

“I got you. Let go, Princess,” he purred in your ear. You reached a hand up and grabbed his hair. You pulled him close and moaned his name on repeat as you came. He grunted and a few more thrusts found his release. Jason pulled out and pulled up your pants with a pat on your ass and took care of his condom.

“We probably need to get the car back before Bruce come looking for it,” he said grabbing his jacket. Jason gave you a long sweet kiss before getting back in the car.

“Does he have a tracking device in it,” you asked with sudden realization.

“Yeah but all we did was get some tacos and stopped to eat them,” Jason said with a wink. “He won’t care too much. Plus he’ll only be mad at me anyways. Don’t worry about it, Princess.”

You held his hand all the way back to the front drive of Wayne Manor. As soon as you were in his car, his phone lit up and before he put it away, it was a message from Tim. “Clean it before you bring it back. I don’t even want to know what happened and Bruce is ofc mad.😩”

You laughed a little and Jason went from grinning to laughing out loud. “At least we didn’t fuck in the car,” you said. He laughed some more.

“Maybe next time, baby,” he said with a wink before speeding out of the drive.

“Oh god. I wouldn’t do Alfred like that.”

“I knew I liked you for some reason. Let’s get home. It’s cold as balls out here and I’d like to spend some time with my hot as shit girlfriend before the other shoe drops,” Jason said taking your hand again.

“That’s a fan-fucking-tastic idea.”

[vanchlo]

The Partner / Chapter Ten, "The After"

Word Count: 6.3k /  Story Masterlist /  Read The Assistant /  Read on Wattpad / Song: / Small Bump by Ed Sheeran (click to listen) / Warning: Sensitive and upsetting topics, such as death and miscarriage

"Life is never fair. I’m sure you’re well aware of that."

- Death Parade デス・パレード

Barely could I catch the thoughts that whirred through my skull, one after the other. Neither could I with my breath because with each one, the pain inside of my head grew. It couldn’t compare to what I felt when I turned my head to find the room empty. Becks was gone, somewhere else in this hospital having . . Shaking my head tersely, I let it fall into my hands as my hands shook.

“Get ahold of yourself, Harry,” despite the state of my throat and trembling lips, the muttering comes. The first words I’ve spoken in who knows how long. Yet, they always feel like my last, because this feels never ending, all of this.

I tried it for the third time now, breathing slowly in and out. It doesn’t work any better this time compared to the hundred other attempts. No matter what, I can’t feel better. Cursing, I shoot upright in the chair and fling my head back, staring at the ceiling for yet another few seconds. No, not that either, I think quietly before my eyes fall on it again. It had stared back at me this entire time of waiting, taunting me. Not only did it not seem real, but with each time I found myself looking at, it shouted at me to believe. There, her name sat on the whiteboard clear as day and a whole allotment of other things, but worst of all was The Plan. D&C Surgery at 11:30. I’d already known what it meant, hearing the risks and benefits of the surgery along with Becks earlier from the doctor.

Huffing, I sat forward, resting my elbows on my legs. They fought to stay there as my right leg bounced up and down impatiently. Checking my watch, I swear under my breath, wondering how it’s only been ten minutes. They likely haven’t even started the surgery yet and I’m already wild with worry, and with missing her. Whimpering, my fingers slide back through my hair and root themselves there, my scalp singing with pain as does my heart. For the hundredth time, I think no, this isn’t how it should be. We shouldn’t be here. No, not now. Not for another five months to bring our baby home, but now, we’ll be going home . . empty.

Through a thickness of tears, I watch myself dial the number, blinking the haze away once I press it to my ear. It rings as my heart beats on, aching and dancing against my chest. Words climb up my throat, but I can’t distinguish the right from the wrong, or find the energy to ever say any of them. Yet, I know that I have to and that I need to.

“Hare, hey. I can’t talk long, I’m on recess, but do you have an update on Becky? What’s going on up there?”

“I’m so sorry I had to leave My,” is all that I can manage.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve got it covered. Please, just tell me that you’re okay.”

Despite his well intentions, it hits me in the gut. It gets me good and sucking in a breath is harder than before. I try to fight it, but it drapes over me like a blanket that I can’t remove, because I can’t.

“No, My . . I’m not okay. W-We . . . ,” time to work there, lungs. I need you now, do you hear me? One breath. Two breaths. Okay, maybe I can do this. Just maybe. “We lost the baby,” I confess, pinching the bridge of my nose as the sound of cries finds a way past my lips. His silence is replaced by the choked sounds that I make, ones that I let lose to the air. To him.

“Oh, Hare,” he sighs, my heart cracking a little more at his voice. What I hear in it. “I can’t say h-how sorry I am, to you or Becky . . . I-Is there anything I can do?” a pause falls between his words, found in the breath I hear him take to settle himself. It’s the one that I can’t find.

“N-No, if there was I don’t know what it is. Just- I can’t even think about . . about going back to work anytime soon o-or for Becky. She- I don’t know how we’re going to do this, something like this h-has never happened. I-,” my footing is lost and the words fall haphazardly around me, no thought as to how to arrange them.

“Don’t even think about work, okay? Rose and I will take care of it, you don’t have anything to worry about, Hare. J-Just take care of yourself and Becky, and take all of the time the both of you need. I’ll figure out unemployment or something- it’ll be fine, okay?”

“Thanks, My.”

“No need,” he murmurs, words skidding to a stop. “Are you still at the hospital then?” not many other people could tell it, but behind the tears coating my cheeks, I can hear the ones in his voice.

“Yeah, probably for the good part of the day. S-She’s in surgery to . . “

“I’ve heard of the different um, treatments. Jeanie’s sister w-went through the same thing. It’s terrible. Fuck, I’m just- I’m so sorry, Hare,” some divine power breaks his voice on the curse, and if I weren’t sobbing, perhaps I’d find it in me to laugh. “Tell her I’m thinking of her, will you?”

“Of course.”

I wasn’t sure if silence was my friend right now, leaving me to the turbulence of my thoughts, until he interrupted it again. “Have you told anybody else, Hare? I know you, you shouldn’t be alone there, sitting in your thoughts.”

“My mom’s on her way, she w-was in town, so it’s only a matter of time,” I continue, pressing my thumbs against my closed eyes when the next thought arrives. “We . . . We were going to name the baby after her and Becky’s grandma, My. A-Annie. H-How am I going to tell her that?” I nod along with his coming words, my lips pressed together tightly, not letting any words slip past. Tears run over them, tasting of salt and something bitter. Loss. I’m not sure how long I sat there like that after he had to get back to arguing our case, leaving me in my whirlwind of thoughts.

It was all I could do, think. Well, that was before my legs kept me busy and I was walking circles around the room, trying and failing not to do the other thing. A silence had crept into the room long ago and refused to leave, even with the hum of the heating challenging it. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d fallen back onto the chair and gotten up again, fearing I’d never be able to get back up one of these times. No, I knew that I’d fallen off that chair somewhere in my head and didn’t even care to get back on. How could I? I was to become a dad. It was all that I could think about for the last nearly four months, and now- God. Now, I couldn’t stop thinking about how that had been stolen away from me in just a few moments. I woke up this morning, like any other recently, counting down the days to meeting our baby. I never would now.

I was long gone by the time there was a knock on the door, seizing my attention and any last whole piece of my heart that was left. Because when she walked through it, the only other person in the entire world who could make it all better was there.

“Honey, I can’t tell you how sorry I am that . . that t-this is happening,” my mom sobbed, pressing a hand against her mouth after the door closed behind her. I barely blinked and found myself standing, hiding in her welcoming arms.

If my heart hadn’t already fallen through my stomach and to the floor, it did when she brought my head to her chest, muffling my wailing. There was just something about crying on your mom’s shoulder that could never be rivaled, and if I couldn’t be with my Becks, this is where I wanted to be. I didn’t want it, any of this, but it’s like I was three again with an owie, and her hugs made it all better. Except, this time, the relief came and then it trickled away. It didn’t feel . . real, and through my tears, I cried harder, wanting for this one thing to feel real out of it all. But as her blouse grew wet under my cheek, it never came and very swiftly, I gave up on it ever arriving at all.

I couldn’t remember the last word that had passed between us, because all I could hear was the way her thumb drew waves on the back of my hand. All I could see was the hand on the clock ticking slowly with each passing second, and never quickly enough. A blaring of sorts went off in my head when the secondhand fell onto the 6, announcing 12:30. It had been an hour and still, nobody had come.

My Becks hadn’t come back, and neither had the tears. Somehow, they had come and gone with a ferocity that I’d hardly known. No, except for when it was her that I’d almost lost. This time, we actually had suffered a loss, and I wasn’t sure where to begin to process it. I’d lost my grandfather shortly after we’d reconnected and hers passed within a few weeks of knowing each other. Lola had gone in her sleep not long after, but that was the worst of it, if you could even say that. No, I hadn’t lost a parent or came close to it, like she had, but I’d still lost my best friends. I’d almost lost her, and she me, but was there ever anything that leaked similarity to that of losing a child? I couldn’t think of one, and I hadn’t known anybody who’d lost a baby before, I thought as the scribbled words on the whiteboard grew incoherent in front of my eyes.

A pang hit low in my chest when my thoughts dragged me back to that rainy day in February, just right after our first date. Skye had called and my entire world had came crashing down, and the same thing had happened to her not even six months ago. The calendar had only just turned to November then, and I’d only just flipped it to March yesterday. I’d seen it when I’d done it, the small handwriting of my own on next week’s date. ‘4 months w Baby P.’ It came after the stretch of days I’d marked for this case, and if my head wasn’t already in my hands at that, it is now.

I’d asked her, time and time again, if I should take this case, seeing as how I had to leave town to argue it. It’s only a few days and I’ll be fine, Harry, she had insisted, like she always had. She was a stubborn one from the very first day I’d met her, and it had never waned. I’d taken the case and she had helped me on it before leaving to assist Rose with hers, a criminal case that Becks had been interested in. Her and her curiosity of serial murders, but she’d only helped with research after we’d agreed on no high profile cases since . . since we’d found out about the baby. Exhaling, the sensation of pain comes to the front of my mind. Looking down, shocks of scarlet half moons look back at me when I turn over my palm. Gulping, I stretch out my hand before curling my fingers back in, ignoring the chorus of stinging now radicating my palm.

I shouldn’t have taken it, I knew it then and I knew it now. Something had told me not to. No, not with her pregnant. What if something had happened to me again, or to her while I was away? And it did. But I’d brushed the worrisome thoughts away, crediting them to irrational fear that didn’t deserve my time. Now, as I sit here, leaning forward with my elbows on my thighs, I curse myself for not being there. I should have, there’s no question about it. A new warmth gathers in my chest sourly as I imagine, for perhaps the fortieth time, her waking up alone to a nightmare. Blood pooling around her bottom and pain racking her insides as our baby died inside of her. Had it been this morning, last night, or days ago? I had kept wondering about it when Dr. Baker explained that they could have passed within the last few weeks and there was no way to know until her body recognized it, and . . began the process. If I were her, I’d be mad at me for not being there in the bed beside her when she woke. For not being there to drive her to the hospital, but instead, waking up in a bed two hundred miles away, unbeknownst to the storm today would bring. I could have-

“Honey, you have to stop thinking about what you can’t change,” somebody murmurs, weeding their way into my inner monologue. I don’t need to think for a second before knowing who it is, and that of course, they know.

“I’m not thinking about-.”

“Yes, you are. I’ve known you for the last thirty two years, I know how your mind works. How you work, Harry. You’re my baby, I-,” there, her voice breaks as if it’s a thread pulled too tightly, snapping. Something within me does the same, and I feel another chunk of my heart break apart. “I’m sorry, I know how that sounded. I didn’t mean-.”

“I know you didn’t, Mom, but I just- I can’t . . do that word right now,” I retort, pulling away from her touch, soon finding myself staring out the window onto the tops of houses for miles. Her sigh inches in through one of the dozen holes inside of me, taking hold as a rain droplet races down the window. A similar one runs the same race down my cheek. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap at you. It’s not you I’m angry at, I could never be. But, I just-,” cutting myself off, her eyes are already waiting on me when I turn around. As always, they’re soft as can be, and forgiving too.

“It’s okay, Harry, you don’t have to apologize to me.”

“I just don’t understand w-why this happened to us, Mom,” I whimper, words shaken by the persistent trembling of my lips. “What did we do to deserve this? Did I do something wrong? Because Becks didn’t. I know I shouldn’t have taken this case- or maybe, this is a punishment for the asshole I used to be. To everybody at work, even to her. I never should have treated her that way. I don’t even deserve her, and maybe I don’t deserve to be a father, either. I’d probably just fuck up their lives like my dad did to me. I-.”

“Harry Styles, you stop talking like that right now,” her voice is firm, something it rarely is. Her voice echoes around the room with its fervor and volume, as does the look in her eyes. “You did nothing to deserve this and neither did Becky. This is none of your fault or hers, it could never be. It’s not because you took a case out of town, or because you mistreated her in the past. That was all so long ago and you have to stop beating yourself up about it, you know that she would tell you the same exact thing . . Honey, you don’t deserve this, either of you. It wasn’t the baby’s fault either, and sadly, there’s nothing you could’ve done to stop it or to know it would’ve happened. You have to stop blaming yourself,” she finishes, rainboots stopping in front of me. I almost want to laugh at the pink butterflies covering them and the squelching sounds they make, but it’s far away now.

What isn’t far away is the warmth in her eyes and how it tries to thaw me from the inside out. The very thing that Becky had done to me all of those years ago, changing me from the icicle I was to the person I am now. Somebody that I hated I ever was to her with the things I said and did.

“How am I supposed to tell her that wh-when I don’t even believe it myself, Mom?” I whisper, feeling the weight pull at my words. “Sh-She’s going to blame herself, I know she already does. She thinks she did something wrong o-or that she didn’t love them enough. H-How . . How do I fix her, Mom?”

Shaking her head, for the first time, my mother doesn’t have a word of wisdom to feed me. Standing there, a storm paving its path outside and one having its way with my insides, I try to think of my mom never not having an answer for me. Until now.

“I’ve never suffered a miscarriage, honey . . but I’m not sure how you can fix her. I don’t think that you can or that you should try to. That’s something that she has to do on her own. When your dad and I divorced, it was one of the worst times of my life. Not even right afterwards, but for years before that, knowing what was happening to us . . You just- you have to be there for her, give her space when she wants it, and take care of yourself too. Sometimes, you have to be there when she doesn’t want you to be- I know it’s confusing, but you just have to do your best, honey. You will be okay, maybe not today or next month, but you will find it one day . . I’ll always miss my father and the family that I’ve lost, even my marriage to your father, but I still can find happiness. Everybody grieves differently and in their own way, and it’s okay however you may feel. That’s what matters, to feel it. Don’t hide in your work, Harry, . . or alcohol . . I know you’ve done that before with losing Becky the first time and then, your grandfather. Focus on the things that bring you happiness and take the time you need to heal. You’re going to want to ignore it and not feel it, but you need to . . A-And I don’t know how to say this without sounding insensitive, because nothing could ever replace this baby, but when you’re both ready, you can . . . you know what I mean.”

Pools of tears had collected on the front of my button down long ago, and they only grew wetter now. Heavier. Blinking, I secretly longed for sleep as I ruminate on her words, knowing that she always had an answer for everything. Her own kind of answer. Licking my lips, I part them to speak an answer, but another sound beats me to it. All words are lost when I hear the knock on the door and its opening creak.

“Harry? It’s Dr. Baker,” a voice says. It’s as if a switch was flipped inside of me, and all I can think about is her again. Becks.

“H-Hi. Did everything go alright?” I stammer, turning my body to face the doctor who walks in wearing the same scrubs, a blue cap now fastened around her hair.

“Yes,” she smiles, clutching a clipboard to her chest, making me wonder. “Becky’s out of surgery and everything went just as planned. She’s been in recovery for a while now as she comes out of anesthesia. I suspect she’ll be waking up soon and I think that you should be there when she does. She’s still going to be pretty groggy, but I can take you there now, if you’d like.”

“Y-Yes, of course. Please, I’ve been worried sick about her,” I express, swiping at my cheeks hastily. Remembering my mom, I turn back to her and hug her quickly, hearing her encouraging words in my ear as I follow the doctor to the door.

There I stop when she turns around, a misty look in her eye, “I can’t remember if I’ve said it, but I can’t say how sorry I am to you and Becky, Harry. It’s been such a joy to be with you both on this journey. It’s always my favorite to work with new parents, and to see their excitement . . I’m so sorry for your loss. It’s never easy when one of my patients loses a baby,” Dr. Baker says, forcing a smile as she blinks away the tears filling her eyes.

“Wow, um- thank you so much, from both Becky and I,” is all that I can find to say, especially when I find her hugging me. It’s brief but it knocks the wind out of me, for the hundredth time today. No, I’d never found my way back to breathing safely ever since that phone call. As I stare back at her, both of us lost for words, a few of mine creep out. “How are we supposed to do this? I never imagined this would happen . . I’ve always wanted to make her happy, and now . . I don’t know how to do that. I don’t know how we’ll get past this, especially her.”

Nodding, she remains silent save for the way she pats my shoulder, “You’re already doing a great job, a much better one than some of the partners I’ve seen this happen to. You two have something special and that’s what gets you through terrible things like this. You’ll be okay. It may not be for a long time, and I’ll tell you the truth, you’ll always miss them, but you’ll be okay.”

I’m unsure of what else to do but nod my head and follow her out of the room. We turn right and find an elevator, and the moment’s lost. As the numbers fall a few and an electronic beeping fills the small space, she begins to read from her chart. They pass through one ear and out the other, her words about care. It’s only when we’re walking off the elevator and I know that I’m nearing Becks, do the words register with me. I’ll get to take her home later today, once everything is looking good. She’s blunt at times and I think I appreciate it. She’s going to be in some pain, but she’ll prescribe medication and the like to keep Becky comfortable, and it makes me feel like just maybe I can breathe again. It only lasts until she’s honest that she needs to rest as much as possible, and that depression is a danger after something like this. This will all be written down and sent home with us she says, but that for right now, I should go and be with my fiance, she says when we stop in front of a closed door. One that I know Becks is behind this very moment, waiting for me. I won’t keep her any longer, I’ve done it too many times to count now.

I’m not sure which hurt worse, that first time seeing her clinging to life after her accident, or finding her peacefully asleep knowing what had just happened. No, they each hurt in their own unique way, different than the next. I could hardly think about then, knowing the misery that overtook me, and a similar one now as I realized again what we’d lost. We’d lost our child, our baby. In a way, it still didn’t seem real, even as I sat beside her and took her hand in mine. Tears had already begun to paint my face and my lip quivered quicker at the thought of falling back into that hole. This time, there wouldn’t be a ‘phew, that was close’ moment. No, I’d missed that entirely. It had never been a possibility that things would be okay. I’d known it somehow from the second she called me sobbing, because she knew too. Our baby was already gone.

As I tried and failed to swallow past the unmoving lump in my throat, everything was difficult. Seeing clearly was and even when I did, I wasn’t sure I wanted to, just like before. I couldn’t rub the top of her hand with my thumb, because the IV and its tape were in the way. Her rings were gone, and it was unsettling for me, seeing her without her grandma’s two rings, and her engagement ring. The labored sound of her breathing was what occupied my ears, that is if the turning wheel of thoughts wasn’t already.

It went on and on as I watched her sleep, chest rising and falling with each breath assisted by the nasal cannula. It wasn’t long before my fingers were caught in her hair and I was just grateful that she was still here. I sat there, trying to be grateful but it was something I could hardly manage. Of course, I was more than happy that she was still here, but this isn’t how any of it was supposed to go. I was supposed to be a few hours north arguing and winning a case with Myles. She was supposed to spend the day with my sister and her kids, painting nails and making cookies with Harper. Now, what was going to happen? I had no idea at all and there was no pretending that it didn’t absolutely terrify me.

A few minutes later, my heart squeezed when she stirred and her eyes fluttered open, searching the room until they found me. It crumpled when a lazy smile came to her lips and she yawned.

“Hi, Harry.”

“Hi, buggie. How are you feeling?” I murmured, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

“I’m so tired. Mmmmm,” she sighed. A heaviness clung to her eyes and I knew it wouldn’t be long before she succumbed to it. I wished for it, almost.

“You in any pain, bug?”

“No, why would I be?” she almost giggled, letting her eyes fall shut. The doctor had warned me about this before I walked in, saying she may be a little loopy from the anesthesia. I welcomed it now, dreading the return to reality and all that it would bring. The heartache, something I didn’t want her to experience. “I’m going back to sleep. You’re boring.”

“Sweet dreams, Becks,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to her head as the smile faded on her lips. Sniffling, a tear collected at the point of my nose, knowing that the next time she woke up, it would be real again for her. An ache began in my chest just at the thought, knowing what was to come. God, how are we going to do this, I wondered silently and yet ever so loudly as I put my head in my hands, sure there wasn’t a God at all.

I wasn’t certain what it was that I noticed when I first woke up. Was it the electronic beeping that I know too well? My own labored breathing? The odd smell of the place around me? Or was it the warmth around my hand, the only of its kind as a coldness covered the rest of me? The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was him, and the way he brightened. There wasn’t any pause from reality or waiting for it to hit me, because it already had. The look on his face said it for me, if I didn’t already know. No, the moment I woke up I did.

“Hi, buggie. How are you feeling?” Harry murmurs, cupping my cheek with his hand. It looks as if he’d just woken up from a nap himself, but it’s hard to tell for long as he grows blurry in front of me. “Oh, Becks honey.”

“No,” the word repeats from my lips, the weirdest of tastes in my mouth, but it doesn’t compare to the rest of me. More emptiness greets me when my hand darts to my stomach, and I know. “I was supposed to wake up . . . this was all supposed to be a nightmare, and I’d wake up and . . and it’d all be okay. The baby- would be okay,” I wail, overcome by the shaking of my chest as words fight their way out. He’s a blur of movements in front of me, and I don’t know what he’s doing until I feel him beside me.

“I’m here, Becks. I’m here. I’m so sorry, honey,” his voice breaks, and it only makes my hand press harder to my stomach, knowing what isn’t there anymore. Who. “I wish you would have woken up from this nightmare too, that we both could have. It shouldn’t be like this, any of it, and I’m so sorry.”

“I-It’s not your fault,” I whisper, feeling the assault of my tears already coat his neck where I hide my face. He’s careful, moving around the tubing and managing to wrap himself around me in this small bed.

“And it’s not yours, either, bug.”

“It feels l-like it, Harry,” I confess, my hands beginning to cramp at the way I ball his shirt up in my hands. “I should’ve known something might happen . . my feeling. I-It’s my own body, how did I not know something was wrong?”

“It’s not your fault, you couldn’t have known, Becks. The doctor said so. You did everything right - you took all the vitamins, ate good, exercised- you did nothing wrong.”

I try to listen and soak up his words like a sponge, but I don’t feel like one for that. It’s as if I’m a mirror instead, reflecting what he says without taking it in. Shaking my head back and forth, I fight for breath as everything comes back to me. Waking up from the pain and feeling the wetness between- squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I try to forget but I can’t. Nor can I push away the silence when the doctor pressed the ultrasound wand to my abdomen, even though I knew it. I had been hoping I’d be wrong, that my feeling was incorrect for once, but it wasn’t. It never is.

“It’s not your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s nobody’s fault. Not yours, not mine, not . . not the baby’s. We can’t blame ourselves, Becks,” his insisting words dance across my head and into my eyes, but I can’t believe them. I wish that I could, lying there feeling like an empty shell, unable to take my hand away from my stomach. But I do, I want to say and yet, I can’t find my voice. It’s somewhere hiding in my loud cries against his shoulder.

Until, my cries took the time to fall silent, and I’m not. Instead, I’m staring into the darkness hiding in the place where his neck and shoulder meet. The faintest of light lives there and if I could see the pattern to his shirt or the bedsheets, I don’t. Nor can I hear the song he sings to me. I can, but not the words soft from his lips, or the sweet things he assures me with. A never ending stream still leaves my eyes, but the ferocity of them has left, and I’ve never felt this empty.

He still whimpered above me when he turned on the tv and I heard the familiar voices of the Friends. I fought between hearing them and Harry’s singing, unable to move from where I was, even when the doctor came in after a while. A different softness had arrived in her voice, but I still refused to move from my favorite hiding place. It was everything I expected to hear, and yet, as I thought about how this was never how today was supposed to go, it wasn’t. He was the first one to break down when she announced she’d found out the gender from some kind of tests I didn’t understand. I remained quiet, and it grew deeper as he sobbed louder when she revealed if we had lost a son or daughter. I couldn’t decide, lying there motionless in his arms, if I had wanted to know. I already did in a way, but when she said it, something resonated inside of me as his heart broke inside of him. Again.

I hadn’t realized that she’d left or that he was talking to me, so removed from this world and in one entirely my own. Why should I return to that one, a world that had hurt me too many times for me to ever count? It had taken away the love of my life on several accounts, and tried to do so permanently. It had pitted us against each other day after day, and now, it had . . it had made our child die inside of me. I couldn’t come back to it but as the sound of his cries found purchase on something inside of me, they grew louder.

“A d-daughter, Becks. We were supposed to have a little girl,” his voice trembled, harder than ocean waves crashing against rocks. Somehow, my own voice was completely still- no, it was absent altogether. It took a walk down that same beach tens of minutes ago, and I was unsure of when it’d come back.

His body shook against my rigid one, and as he took the turn to drench my neck with tears, I lifted my head for the first time from his neck. Opening my eyes was something I didn’t think I could do ten minutes ago or even one, but I did and pointed them at the tv. Harry’s sobs filled my ears and so did the Friends’ voices. Relaxing my hands against his back, a tiredness had taken hold of me long ago. Now, I watched as their story unfolded beside ours as he buried his face in my hair, sobbing for our daughter. Something that I suddenly couldn’t do, and I didn’t even know why.

I despised it, the stillness that had surrounded us and refused to leave. It sat there, even as Harry’s snores threatened it, but it had already claimed me. It found it way inside of me, lying there in that hospital bed beside him, hooked up to beeping machines. Remain it did, when I pretended to listen to the care instructions of the doctor when she returned yet again. It consumed the space between us in the car, even with my hand tucked into his for the entirety of the ride home.

I couldn’t decide if stillness was my friend or my foe as I lay in the downstairs guest bedroom beside him later that night. The sounds of him sleeping had begun long ago, after showers for the both of us and a takeaway dinner I’d hardly eaten. I barely tasted the potatoes and beef of the pot roast meal, or felt the hot water kiss my body. The numbness that had filled my bones when the tears had stopped melts away, thawing into wetness that glides down my cheek. The clock reading midnight stared back at me as my throat tightened, my heart jumping back up it, as I gasped for air. It had been twelve hours since . . since we’d lost our baby. Next, it would be a day, and then . . Curling up into a ball, at last the stillness vanished as every part of me shook with feeling. Every ounce of it returned to me, overdue from the parts of today that I didn’t feel.

His own stillness frightened me, because I couldn’t feel this alone, and as much as I hated to wake him from his ignorant dreams, I had to. Sobbing his name, I scooched across the foreign bed until I was forcing my way into his arms. His snoring halted and then came a sigh.

“Becks,” he murmured, voice drenched with sleep. He moaned while stirring, opening his arms for me. A quietness came to him as my sobs grew in volume, soon finding a place against his chest. “I’m here, buggie. I’m here.”

“But our baby’s not. Wh-Why?” I weeped, feeling the warm metal of his necklace against my cheek. He held me against him, arms snug around me as every bit of stillness left my body. “They’re gone. I just shut down and- our daughter’s gone.”

“I know, honey. I know,” sorrow weighed down on every one of his words. My lips stung from pressing them together so tightly, singing from relief when I chased breaths.

“She’s g-gone . . Why can’t I wake up from this nightmare? I-It’s not fair, Harry, it’s not fair. We don’t deserve this,” every word wicked more strength from me. At last, I relaxed pliantly against him, giving up. “I wanted s-so badly to be her mom, it’s not fair. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not, Becks. It’s not fair at all . . I wish I could fix it all for you, honey. I’ve never not been able to, but please, don’t disappear from me like that again. You wouldn’t hardly talk to me or look at me. I- I can’t lose you too, buggie,” he cried, sniffles adorning his words as tears filled them.

“I’ll try. I don’t know where I went. It’s like I went somewhere else, because . . because I don’t want to do this. Any of it. I can’t,” they’re the last words that I speak, muffled against his bare chest.

He fell back asleep first, his hand slowly dancing along my back until it stopped, but still I laid there, thinking. It was a long while until I joined him, hoping I’d get to dream about our daughter again, knowing that’s the only place I’d see her.

[pebblysand]

[AUGUST ‘21] - THE LIFE/WRITING UPDATE NO ONE ASKED FOR (AND SOME QUICK LINKS)

kids, bonjour/bonsoir, i hope that you are well and enjoying our well-deserved summer, if you are in the northern hemisphere. i am personally writing to you direct from france, where i’m spending the next five weeks, sitting on my mother’s balcony enjoying the sunshine. i wish you all the best!

Anyway, before diving into more life/writing updates, here are some quick links to different blog pages you might not see on mobile :

to read my fics

to read my original work

fic recs

to read my tumblr rants about stuff [updated]

[NOTE: i am currently not accepting prompts. i already have a backlog, folks.]

Castles (chap 9) ETA: We’re probably looking at sometime between the 1st and the 15th of August. Fingers crossed, sooner rather than later. hahahahaha, that took a turn for the worst, didn’t it? i’ll go into more detail about this below but while i’d love to promise an update mid-august, that’s rather compromised. september is more realistic.

links extended a/n-s: chapter v ; chapter vi & vii ; chapter viii

[more life/writing updates under the cut]

what i’m working on/writing right now:

right now? nothing.

well, no, that’s not true. you may or may not have missed this but after a very creative start of the year, my brainwaves just completely dried up around mid-june. i think writing helped me survive a very tough moment in my life what with the pandemic, unemployment, a family health crisis and just a whole lot of stuff that piled up but when things got better, i was just so exhausted that i just found myself incapable of doing anything anymore. i honestly tried to battle through it until mid-july but for the life of me, i kept writing and writing and writing but didn’t actually enjoy a single word i was putting down. everything i worked on felt bland and strikingly unimaginative, driving to outward hate my own stuff, probably unjustifiably so. i wrote more about this at length in this post, but basically, i came to the conclusion that i needed to just take some time away from my own words and from living in my own head, to get my mojo back.

i’m honestly so glad i did. i feel so much better already and was even able to get back to writing a bit recently, without cringing or wanting to pluck my hair out. i wrote a little ficlet for the hinny birthday discord ficfest, which should be posted between now and the 11th of august. it’s only circ. 2,000 words and doesn’t really have a deeper meaning so i’m finding it below my usual, self-imposed standard, but i hope that you will enjoy it either way. not sure when it’ll be released (i’ll let you know as soon as i find out from the fest organiser) but it’s on the shorter side so most likely, it’ll be a tumblr exclusive. it’s called: pick me, choose me, love me, and is a little bit inspired by grey’s anatomy (you’ll see).

now, regarding other projects, i am slowly going to ease myself back into writing, but i’m also being careful not to force it/overdo it, and only write whenever i feel like it. this summer has been a good one for me so far, but a very busy one (and it doesn’t look like it’s slowing down *sigh*). so, i’m taking this slow, recharging my creative batteries and gearing up for autumn. as such, i don’t have any precise eta to give you this time around but do know that i’m doing well and am getting back into the mood!

i have three half-written projects at the moment: a hermione one-shot, a seamus one-shot, and castles. all three are done at about 30% completion. i know that you probably care more about castles but for me, all three are equally my babies and i’m interested in all of them so what i would like is to finish one of the three by the end of august. no pressure, though. the rest will wait september.

recent reads:

i’ve finished a book!!! god, i’ve been so bad at reading this year but i’ve finally finished a book, which i enjoyed, called so you’ve been publicly shamed. it’s by jon ronson and if you haven’t heard of it, just google his ted talk on justine sacco - that’s basically what the book is about. it’s very well-written and well-researched and i thoroughly enjoyed it.

next up is a tumblr friend’s short story, then three rooms by jo hamya which i know nothing about aside from the fact that my local librarian had a tag recommending it.

in other news:

honestly, not much that i’m inclined to share online but i’m happy and doing good and resting, which i desperately needed.also, i’m dogsitting for my mother and honestly this dog ought to be a tiktok star. i have to go cause she’ll get mad at me as it’s almost dinner time!

oh. also. it's my birthday month. will i subtly change my tumblr bio up a notch when it happens? who knows?

lots of love,

pebblysand.

[popculturebuffet]

Donald Duck: Christmas on Bear Mountain Review!

Happy Birthday Uncle Scrooge! Yes it was 73 years ago that everyone’s favorite stingy adventurous billionaire entered this world. And I only NARROWLY missed it as I only found out this was coming up when looking up various character birthdays during the writing of my review of “The Three Cablleros”. I now have a word document with all the various important duck characters birthdays so this doesn’t happen again, but i’m glad I did my homework as I can celebrate one of my faviorite character’s birthdays.  And Scrooge is one of my favorites. While I relate to donald’s everyman slacker spendthrift was a tad more, I still love this old bastard. He’s badass, quick witted, and earned every bit of his fortune square outside of one moment of weakness. But he has his flaws: He’s horribly cheap, quick to anger, and very dismissive and distrustful of people for good reasons and bad. He’s a complicated, interesting character and one that still works today in the reboot.. if with some slight tweaks to make him less of a greedy monster by modern standards. He’s one of my favorite comic book characters, and one of Disney’s finest, so it only felt right to honor him by going back to his roots with his very first appearance and a story that like him is 73 years old today. It’s also one I had never read until today’s review. So does this storied tale still hold up? How diffrent was Scrooge? and are there any actual bears in the story? Well come along with me as we take a trip up to Bear Mountain and find out.  This story, if you didn’t know, is by Disney Legend and Scrooge Creator Carl Barks, easily the most influential and well known duck artist.. felt like it was worth mentioning since without Carl none of this would be possible and as usual his art is gorgeous and unique to him. On with the show. 

We open with Donald and the Boys depressed, as Christmas looks to be pretty drab. While the boys are sad they don’t have a winter Cabin like everyone else...

Donald is even more bummed he can’t afford dinner or presents as he mentions this to the boys, being flat broke. It’s also a nice character beat that Donald, despite his usual hedonism.. would be just fine, with his depression coming from the fact he can’t even give his boys a proper Christmas let alone presents. It’s a stark adult fear and something that really hits as I find the money to buy Christmas presents for all my friends and family during my current unemployment, though commissions, have been helping. 

But yes i’m doing my first Christmas review before thanksgiving’s even come in. But given the serendipity of Scrooge’s birthday and the fact I wanted to read it at some point before covering the last chapter of life and times anyway, since said story takes place DURING this one. I’ll explain how in a moment. Plus frankly with me already having to do my christmas shopping while I have money, I still feel the spirit of the holiday, so I honestly figure why not. 

But all that aside, the Nephews muse things might be better if their rich Uncle Scrooge would remember them, but probably not. We’ll meet scrooge, if you care to continue, after the cut. 

We then cut to Scrooge’s mansion. Two things to note. The first is that he has a mansion here. Now for us Ducktales fans, it’s not unusual, he lives in one in both series. But being even MORE frugal in the comics meant after this he mostly lived in the money bin to save .. well money. So he dosen’t have the mansion after this and Don Rosa explained it, as he did really most aspects of scrooge’s life, in life and times, having him decide to sell the place after also deciding to reopen the bin. Just a neat fun fact. The other fun fact is that his angry pose and expersion here were later homage in “Last Crash of the Sunchaser!”, in one of Ducktales 2017′s easily most heart pulling moments: the ending of the episode showing Scrooge truly alone once again. It’s also a nice refrence to Life and Times as at this point scrooge was just as miserable and alone according to Rosa’s masterwork, with the boys and Donald coming into his life being the thing that revitalized him. So let’s get on that shall we?  Scrooge is wallowing in his misery, having never had any fun according to himself and thinking maybe giving a present could be fun.. and decides on his Nephew as the one to give it to. But in typical Scrooge fashion instead of just giving his Grandson a gift, he’s going to have to earn it. He sends a letter to the Boys and Donald offering up his cabin, fully stocked with goodies and presents. A bit pricey for who Scrooge would become, and a bit odd to see him not complain.. but it still sets up his character as someone who wants people to WORK for what they get, but can genuinely get behind someone who shows good character, in this case he’s hoping, but Doubting, Donald will end up showing himself to be brave. And it’s STILL more plausible he’d buy luxury items to prove a point to himself, than it was in that one Ducktales comic I reviewed where he spent presumably millions to teach a ten year old a lesson about getting everything you want. Which yes really happened. 

Still not over that one, what the actual hell, let’s move on. Basically if Donald passes the test, he’ll get a real true present and if he doesn’t, well Scrooge will have fun anyway. It is easy to see the difference in character here: While parts that would later become bedrock, his code of honor and his wanting people to EARN things instead of just having them handed to them, as well as him sometimes being a huge dick about that are there, he comes off more as a golden age villain cackling in his lair than the awesome but flawed adventurer we’d all come to know and love. I mean while he’d be no less kind to the Boys and Donald about their poverty later, this time he’s especailly bad tempting them with a nice christmas they couldn’t afford and planning to scare the bejeezus out of them. But I do like seeeing where Scrooge came from, STARTING as a decrepit old bastard and transitioning into the adventurous old bastard we all know and love. I have come to realize I do have a soft spot for characters earlier appearances, seeing what changed, what was there all along, and what was tweaked. It can be a mixed bag: with Marvel for instance sometimes you get Spider-Man, who was starkly anti-social and on the verge of understandably lashing out at the world a LOT in the first few issues, and prone to issues you wouldn’t see in a superhero comic back then. Hulk started out much smarter, greyer and meaner, eventually leading to the Joe Fixit persona being created as a result of this decades later. 

On the other hand some examples are less enjoyable like Sue and Reed Richards, who back at the start were a sexist “panicky female” stereotype and a sexist mentally distant jackass, while Hank Pym and Wasp were again, a sexist mentally distant jackass, and another stereotype this time thinking almost entirely about fashion and boys. All four would go on to be MUCH better characters with age, with the occasional slip up. I bring this up because Scrooge... is still a good character even here. While he’d become even BETTER, he’s not bad at all here, just a bit different is all. 

Back at the plot Scrooge reveals his plan by scaring the shit out of his butler: To dress up as a bear, head up the mountain and scare his nephews to see if any of them have any bravery. While Donald whimpers over the thought of bears and we get an okay gag of him thinking a squireel was one, Scrooge is forced to turn around due to the weather and gives a villain monologue about never having given anyone nothing in his entire life. I swear to god he’s basically Mr. Burns in this one. 

Then again I would also FULLY expect Scrooge to do this to Donald in the barks stories, just maybe not have it be lethal. MAYBE. 

While Scrooge harumphs over his bad luck the boys and Donald enjoy a wonderful sleep. Despite Donald’s fear of bears, which the boys insist are hibernating, accurate, the boys force him to go out and get a Christmas tree by the age old tradition of whining until he does so. After going out back to find a tree to chop down Donald finds dead, ugly looking tree that’s weirdly heavy. To no one’s suprise, and to Donald’s natural luck, there’s a baby bear inside and as Donald gets a nice Christmas eve dinner ready for the boys, though after hearing some rustling he assumes a bear is present.. which it is. A baby bear. Awww. The little guy toddles around, and we get af ew pages of antics, with the boys chasing the bear, donald being a coward, and the bear getting into things and ending up on a rollerskate, which is referenced in life and times. However while the boys eventually find the baby.. it’s MOTHER, angry it’s cub is missing finds them and once Donald finds her, the four naturally hightale it out of there. The bears then eat all their food.. though the boys assume “there goes our presents”. Uh guys.. the presents aren’t gone you just don’t have them right this second. They aren’t showed destroying them or anything just leaning on them slightly. I mean the well stocked pantry and any candy in the presents are toast but there’s still a pretty sweet saxaphone there. Take a look. 

See the most their doing is likely wrinkling some clothes, at worst flattening that skateboard.. or whatever that  Mama Bear is sitting on. I mean I get in the larger sense they can’t get them because bears, but still. Once they pass out the boys send in Donald to get ripped apart by a bear.. er to tie up Mama Bear so they can get the house back, rightly pointing out that they’ll freeze to death anyways.. even though they you know have a car and could just leave. Then again knowing Donald’s luck i’td probably jsut lead to this. 

The boys aren’t slacking though and are going after the cub while Donald passes out in fear next to the bear. Scrooge arrives, but is spooked by the cub and is proud to see his young nephews valiantly chase the bebe, and is impressed by Donald’s seeming bravery, decides, after fleeing in terror which is funny. Not in line with what he’d become but STILL really funny. But anyways he decides to throw them a proper christmas as a reward.  So the next day and, thanks to Don Rosa one part of life and times later, we end on Christmas Day as for the first time in decades, Scrooge basks in the warm glow of family, and is happy probably for the first time in years. He gifts Donald a bear skin, he faints, haw haw haw the end. 

FINAL THOUGHTS: This story holds up extrodinarly well. While some aspects like Scrooge being generous or cowardly don’t jibe with his later character, it’s forgivable since, again, first appearance, and it’s an entertaining story. Granted his plan hasn’t aged well, but it’s still a fun Christmas set story with some good gags and an entertaining villian. While not Scrooge or Donald or Barks finest hour, it’s still a good bit of hollday fun that gave us one of the best characters of all time. And for that, ill be forever greatful.  If you liked this review, you can comission one of your own via my ask box, direct message or discord (technicolormuk#6550), if your more comfortable not doing buisness on here. UPCOMING REVIEWS TO KEEP AN EYE ON THIS SPACE FOR Loud House Coverage: Band Together/ The Other One Ducktales: The First Adventure! Ride of the Three Cablleros: The Three Cablleros Ride Again! 

Until then you can check my backlog on my various pages and remember, there’s always another rainbow. 

[venting-journal]

Well update time.

My half siblings and the rest of my family know about me now and most have been okay with it.

On the work front I had to quit the job I had when writing the last post due to medical issues. I tried working somewhere else, thinking it would be easier on me but it wasn't and my health started declining even further. I worked there for four weeks so I had nothing to protect my job and the last week I had an incident with a customer that lead to the worst anxiety attack of my life. My coworkers and manager said everything would be fine but my anxiety really messed with me after that. Eventually my medical issues were getting so bad at work that I couldn't see straight and would move around almost in a confused state like my mind couldn't keep up with what was going on around me. I left work early to go to urgent care and all they could do was tell me to take ibuprofen which helped with the pain but my mind still reacted as if it was there. I was then given the option of quitting and being able to apply again once my medical stuff was taken care of or I'd have to not miss any days or leave early or else I'd get fired and wouldn't be welcomed back. I decided to quit because I didn't want to lose a job opportunity for when I was better. Looking back on that job I realized how safety wasn't a concern to them (which is one of the reasons I ended up with my anxiety attack) so I won't be applying there in the future. Currently I'm unemployed but not receiving unemployment because they deemed my case as quiting for unnecessary reasons.

My health issues, as I believe I stated in the previous post, I believe were the result of a 3 inch cyst on my right ovary with the ovarian tube wrapped around it. I thought it was causing my pain and sickness and I went to the doctor many times prior to my last job and throughout it. They had me take so many blood tests I can't even remember the number but they kept finding nothing except for problems with my liver (fatty liver disease, unrelated to my symptoms). Eventually they sent me to a surgeon to hear his opinion on whether the sister should come out or not. He said it wasn't what he would consider big and that in a 3 months they'd check the size again to see if it was growing. It was but slowly and so he decided to go ahead with an operation scheduled on the 1st of March 2021. He informed me that the symptoms I was having were most likely unrelated to the cyst and that taking it out would most likely provide no relief. There was also concern that I had endometrioma (like endometriosis but in the ovary) which resulted in what is called a chocolate cyst (a cyst full of blood) because in the ultrasounds the ovary with the cyst on it was enlarged. My health continued to decline but wasn't as bad without the stress of work. My surgery went well and I actually had a funny moment when I came to because I couldn't speak (they had a tube down my throat during the surgery so it was very hard to speak once it came out) so I tried using what little sign language I knew to spell out "Mom". She was the one that came with me and I actually was able to leave fairly quickly. When I got back to my boyfriend's house my Mom stayed with me until late at night and my grandma came shortly after we arrived because they were worried my boyfriend wouldn't take care of me. When he came home from work he was surprisingly attentive which eased my family's worries. As the days progressed he became less attentive, probably because I wasn't in enough pain to take my pills, but I still could not move around easily and would get extremely dizzy randomly. Eventually my post Op came up on St Patrick's Day and the surgeon told me I was healing just fine and that I actually didn't have endometrioma.

Now with my relationship that's the day it took a turn. Despite getting good news and heading to my Grandma's for dinner my boyfriend decided once we were in front of her house to tell me he wasn't sure if he needed a break or if he wanted to break up with me. He said he only wanted me to have a safe place to recover from my surgery (I wasn't fully recovered, just recovering well) which gave the impression he had been thinking this for a while. He then left me there and because my Grandma was busy she didn't hear me outside so I was stuck out there alone with what he had said running through my head for a half hour. The night was pretty much ruined and it took me a couple hours to stop crying. He apparently went to go hang out with friends after he had left me and I asked him if I should move out to which he said yes. My family wasn't ready for me to move back in with them so he agreed to let me stay at least until they were ready. When he returned home we had a really bad fight that sent me into a panic attack and he tried to comfort me. He decided that he wanted to take a break and for the next two days he was very affectionate which confused me. He and his brother (the other person living with us at the time) left to go visit their Mom and that was when my family came to move me. I was officially moved out 4 days after St Patrick's Day. A week passed and he and I talked over text, I was still having a hard time coping, and he eventually decided we could hangout again but still be on a break. That didn't last long and we turned into a sort of long distance relationship. He wanted me to get a therapist and a job, saying I'd need them if I wanted to go on a trip with him at the end of the summer. Well after everything with my past jobs, the surgery, and my mental state I was too scared to start working again. I told him that I would get a therapist first and move from there which he seemed fine with at first. My search has so far been a failure and every time he would ask about it and I'd tell him I still hadn't found one he'd get mad. I eventually started telling him that I didn't want to talk about it with him and to please stop asking but he didn't. I tried to work on myself even though I still hadn't found a therapist and I felt like I was making progress although I had a bad day here and there. That brings us to last Friday, April 30th, and I was feeling insecure. With all the times he had dumped me before I was constantly on edge feeling like I had to do everything right in order to make him accept me. My insecurities got the best of me, through some of our texts he started to stop acknowledging me saying "I love you" and I got scared and upset. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt and asked what was going on... That was a mistake.... He misunderstood and twisted my words thinking I was accusing him of ignoring me so we ended up in another fight all over a misunderstanding. He ended up dumping me again claiming I had been making no progress finding a therapist or a job and was accusing me of not trying. He accused me of using him as an excuse not to do it. I told him that wasn't true and that I was trying but he didn't care and didn't believe me but he still wanted to be friends.

Since then we've had more fights, me trying to explain how I feel about the situation and him ignoring it and saying it was just an endless cycle pretty much admitting he didn't have faith in me in the first place so he didn't try. When I pointed out all of this to him and told him how I felt he said I was just being mean and saying shitty things about him. We've kind of calmed down now although I'm still really upset and feel used and betrayed. Today I told him that if he really wanted to be friends I would try but now he seems to have changed his mind and says he needs time.

Overall things have been really shitty with a few good moments sprinkled in between. Every time I'd start improving he'd dump me and say I wasn't. It was very toxic and I told him I wouldn't deal with it anymore. I told him that if he wanted to be friends he'd have to work on himself as well.

Anyway I've been ranting for long enough. I hope anyone who actually reads this has a wonderful day/night.

[sunagakurenosato]

Gravity || Series

Part of a yet to be written multi-chapter fanfic. I skipped several chapters and wrote something I had inspiration for. Kind of proud of it.

Pairing: RasaSasoKaru Trigger warnings: Death mention, murder mention, some slight dissociating?

Summary:

How do you go home and act like everything is okay when you’ve just committed regicide?

Sasori did not will himself to walk home— he could not go home. But he continued walking, as if by someone else’s strings. One foot in front of the other; his eyes vaguely focused on the dirt road before him.

His arms were not his. His body was not his. His house, this home that he found himself in front of, was not his.

He could not bring himself to knock on their door. He should just go— stop playing house and pretending that he belonged here. That anything would ever be alright after he—

“Sasori?”

Yes, that was his name. Is that blood yours? He could not remember knocking. Are you hurt? But he must have— else, why would she open the door. Sasori? Are you hurt? Say something—

His gaze finally met hers. Karura’s voice sounded like an echo from a temple he wasn’t allowed in. Sasori shook his head. It’s not mine. But it is on me. He’s not sure if he actually said those words.

“Come with me,” she sounded clearer now, like they were finally in the same room. The door closed. Will she know? “I have some bandages and clean gloves in the bathroom.”

The scene plays like stills in a movie— there’s running water. A hose. Bright fluorescent lights flickering on. Blood flowing down the sluice. A body on the slab— gurgling and still half alive. Still determined to—

“Do you want me to call Rasa?”

“No.” The words leave him faster than he could catch it. Sasori blinked— they were in the bathroom. There was no body; he was not in the basement. His flack jacket was on the floor. Karura was trying to get his shirt off— feeling for spots that were more drenched with blood than the rest. But his jacket had more stains than his shirt did, and her frantic pace slowed down. The drumming of his heart did not. “Please don’t call Rasa.”

Will she know? She has to know— the blood was on his clothes. Sasori searched her eyes for judgement, for anger, for hate, and found only worry.

Karura finally got the shirt off him.

“Where did you get this?” Her hand hovered over a bright red bruise that covered half his upper chest, afraid to touch it and cause pain. It’s okay. He didn’t feel anything. The metal table that launched at him didn’t kill him.

Karura looked around, searching for wounds, for bleeding, for parts of him she could put back together. Her hands finally rested on his elbows, lifting his arms up, sliding forward to his hands. They trembled in her steady ones.

“Can you talk right now?” She almost whispered it. Like saying it any louder would hurt a bruise he couldn’t feel. “If you can’t it’s okay— let me clean you up.”

Karura turned on the shower in the tub. They only ever used that tub twice. Rasa didn’t like unnecessary expenses.

“I’m alright. I can wash myself—“

The hiss of the water from the shower head. From a hose.  Bright fluorescent lights flickering on. Blood flowing down the sluice. A body on the slab— gurgling and still half alive. A hand around his neck. Why won’t you die? The thud of the body slipping on the water. Why won’t you die?! The splash of blood on his jacket.

Sasori turned off the shower with a trembling hand.

He felt like he stood there for hours before Karura gently moved him into the tub, and turned on the faucet instead. The water lapped at his feet, while Karura cleaned the blood off his face with a wet towel.

Sasori moved in and out of himself in those moments that were both seconds and hours long. He knew Karura was saying something as she cleaned him up and the water reached his ankles. He knew that he liked the sound of her voice. That he liked the touch of the her hand on his hair, smoothing out the dried bits of—

He was only starting to become uncoordinated now. Now. It should have been minutes ago. He should have stopped breathing by now— why— what— he calculated the dose; took into account the weight; the wine— he thought of the wine too—— shit, shit, shi—

“—stay at home with us tomorrow. It’s a Sunday. I’ll help you bring things from your workshop if you’d like---“

He held her arm then, frozen before the towel could touch him. The water was at his stomach. She’d smell it if she came in, even if it was in the basement. The chemicals. The blood.

Sasori’s eyes met hers. He should just go— stop playing house and pretending that he belonged here. That anything would ever be alright after he—

I killed him. The confession was at the tip of his tongue. I poisoned him. I cut his chest, and watched the blood form on the wound. I strangled him and cracked his skull open when he tried to escape. I killed the Kazekage. I killed Rasa’s brother— and you will hate me, and you will curse me… and you will leave me…

Her other hand brushed his hair. She laid a kiss on his forehead. “It’s alright,” she whispered, not knowing. She didn’t know. “I’m here.” And the confession dissipated from his lips.

Sasori lay his head where he could reach her, and curled up to side of the bathtub. His body was not his. The tears were not his.

--- Sasori sat, wide awake at 2 in the morning, on the chair of Karura’s dresser. He’s only here because Rasa snored in his sleep, Karura was clingy (he should get her a life sized pillow one of these days), and Kankuro wiggled into his spot between the two in the middle of the night.

Definitely not because he couldn’t sleep.

“Definitely not because you’re hallucinating,” an arm wrapped around Sasori’s shoulder. “That only comes from certain poisons, and not as an acute coping mechanism for a murder you’re not sure you wanted to commit.” He sat beside Sasori in his white and green ceremonial robes. Perfectly clean. Not a drop of blood. The Sandaime Kazekage smiled, and blood dripped from the edge of his lips.

Sasori said nothing. Did nothing. Because Ryozen was dead. Very dead. His skin and tissues were soaking in the chemicals— and Sasori distinctly remembered smashing his skull on the floor. The back of his head shouldn’t be that clean.

“That’s fine,” Ryozen took his arm away and adjusted his position, sitting in mid air. “We’ve got—— what, at least a week? I think a week has been the longest I’ve ever disappeared because of the war. I imagine my brother would start looking for me after that.”

Shut up.

“At most— maybe forever? You’re always going on about that, aren’t you? Or are you all talk and not actually willing to drag your baggage through all of eternity?”

“Shut up,” Sasori hissed at the empty space beside him.

“No-no,” came a small voice at his other side.

“You actually let a two year old sneak up on you?” Ryozen laughed, “Nah, I’m gonna give Rasa three or five days before he figures everything out— considering how sloppy you’re getting.”

Little Temari slapped her doll, the carved figure of Princess Iron fan, on Sasori’s knee to get his attention. “Uppity,” she raised both arms up.

Sasori finally turned towards her. “We can’t play right now.” He picked her up, and headed back to the room she shared with Kankuro. Both their sheets were crumpled and on the floor. Temari kicked her legs to get down, and giggled when she landed on the floor. She gave him all manner of gifts while he folded their blankets properly— the book she insisted Karura read to her every night, a stuffed toy, another stuffed toy, Kankuro’s pillow, a clean diaper.

“She probably wants you to flip through the book with her,” Ryozen so helpfully suggested. “Karura tells a different story every time, depending on what Temari points to in the pictures. But she really likes the deep goblin voice.”

“Come on, Temari, back to bed.” Sasori put the wiggling child on the bed, only to have her stand back up and attempt to get down.

“You’ll have to do that in my stead now,” Ryozen was leaning against the door frame. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m pretty sure that my niece is never going to miss me.”

Sasori tucked one side of the bed, but Temari has already wiggled out of the other.

“The rest of Suna though— I don’t think they’ll be fine losing their Kazekage. And we’re in the middle of a war. Worst timing, Sasori. We’ve got people trying to invade the desert— suicide for outsiders, if you ask me. But we have loans. And we’ve got unemployment—“

“Temari, please come back.”

“No-no,” she tried to kick him when he picked her up again.

“—Rasa would have to pick that up, wouldn’t he? I mean he’s the last of us siblings and the next in line since I don’t have kids.”

“Temari, please. Just—“

“Oof, poor Karura. She’ll have to deal with three kids, and an over worked husband. I’d say she’d have one less husband too but then again, you haven’t even answered them when—“

“No!” Temari kicked him in the face.

“I said quiet!” Sasori laid a hand over Temari’s head, and she promptly fell into a deep slumber.

Sasori kept his head down as he tucked the blanket properly, and smoothed the wrinkles out. He could see the Kazekage robes, dripping red, from the corner of his eye. He could feel Ryozen’s smirk. He could—

“Sasori?”

“Fuck—— shit, sorry, Rasa,” he heard him shout at Temari, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Rasa peaked behind Sasori and noted Temari fast asleep in her bed. “I heard her enter the room earlier. Is she alright?”

Sasori nodded, not meeting Rasa’s gaze. “Just asleep. She won’t remember she wakes up.”

“Of course not,” Rasa shrugged and took a sip from his glass of water, “she’s two.”

Sasori rolled his eyes. Rasa laughed. Sasori almost smiled.

“Come back to bed, Sasori.”

“I can’t— I— I have to go somewhere.” Anywhere. Preferably some place where the world won’t find him; where loneliness won’t find him; where the leaving won’t get to him; where the softness he’ll never get anymore won’t taunt him with a cruel smile and a bloody white and green ceremonial robe.

“Wherever you’re going,” Rasa put a hand on the small of his back and guided him through the hallway. “It can wait until tomorrow.”

“It’s already morning.”

“No. No, it doesn’t count as morning until I have my coffee.”

Sasori didn’t move from his spot, and Rasa’s hand slid away from his back.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” his face wrinkled into an ugly grimace, and if he didn’t straighten out everything is going to—— I just want to pull memories and thoughts and things out of my head. I want to carve myself hollow of all these emotions. Of dreams I’ll never have— but have always entertained. ‘Cuz you both have set it on a silver platter for a hungry shinobi that didn’t know the first thing about lo—-

“What’s going on?” Karura wandered into the hallway, Kankuro asleep in his arms.

Sasori could feel the venom pooling behind his lips. And if he spat it out now, they would leave him. And he can go to that place only he knew; that place not even the leaving would find. But it didn’t come. What came, instead, was Karura’s hand taking his. “Are you alright, Sasori?”

Sasori shook his head. Wrapped his arms around himself. “No,” he whispered, “I feel pathetic today. All 22 hours left of today.”

She pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Come to bed, love. The world doesn’t need you until the morning.”

“It’s already morning.”

“Four hours, Sasori. Lay in bed with us for four hours— and we’ll keep the thoughts away just long enough for a nap. Does that sound good?”

“I’m not a child, Karura.”

She brushed something wet off his cheek. “No you’re not. But please—“

He thought of the blood running through the sluice. He thought of the body soaking up the chemicals. He thought of the hose— the shower— the water at the tub lapping at his feet. He thought of the future he changed with curare painted on a kunai.

He thought of the first time he met Karura. They were young, and he had been given half a candied apple that tasted sweeter than any cake he’s had since he was five. He thought of the first time he met Rasa, her fiancé at that time— and how one conversation changed the tone of an ill intentioned visit. He thought of the two— and the little one that hasn’t even taken his first breath.

One night and I have doomed us all.

Sasori finally let Rasa bring him back to bed while Karura tucked Kankuro into his. He lay between them— Rasa snoring to his right, Karura singing softly to his left.

Ligaya At asahang iibigin ka Sa tanghali, sa gabi at umaga Huwag ka sanang magtanong at magduda Dahil ang puso ko’y walang pangamba

A dark figure playing the violin near the window, blood never dripping on the floor.

Lahat tayo’y mabubuhay ng tahimik at buong… Ligaya

---

NOTES: 

Translation of the song Karura was singing:

> Love** > Know that you will be loved > When the sun is out, when it sets, and when it rises again > Don’t ask why, and don’t doubt > Because I know in my heart

A dark figure playing the violin near the window, blood never dripping on the floor.

> We will all live in peace, and in complete > happiness

**The actual translation for Ligaya is “Joy” but how it’s sang is as a pet name. I don’t think Joy is a common pet name : )) So I settled for Love instead

[portlandvalentine]

Oh hi. I think I last wrote back in November. I came back today and was surprised to see that my posts are still being actively reblogged pretty much everyday. I kind of assumed that I’d faded into obscurity.

I’m still working at the bike job. Due to the pandemic we had to change things up and I ended up with two shifts a week at double pay for the hazard, for now, until things go back to normal I guess. I’m seeing about two clients a month. I’m actually more financially stable now than I had been in a long time so there’s a terrible, selfish part of me that hopes things don’t go back to normal for a while. But even so, who knows if the bike shop will even end up staying open. Who knows if we’ll have to change things up again and I lose my shifts. I’m the one with the least seniority and the only reason I even got any shifts is because one of my coworkers chose to get laid off to collect unemployment. I’m not eligible for any unemployment since I was working under the table until last November. I also haven’t gotten my stimulus payment and probably won’t for a while (if ever) due to the IRS insisting that no such person with my name and SSN exists (long, boring story).

I’m doing okay. I’m probably not as scared of coronavirus as I should be. Is it strange that I’m kind of excited to see what our future normal looks like? Assuming I don’t die anyway. I like to think that we won’t just go back to the old normal and that this is a chance to build a better, more just world. It’s been interesting adjusting to the current way of life. I miss dumb things like walking to H&M just to browse or getting takeout when I’m too lazy to cook, but it keeps me from spending unnecessary money at least. I like seeing the neighborhood streets being taken over by pedestrians and cyclists and scooter riders, and I’ve been loving my own bike rides around the city on quieter streets.

To my own surprise, I got a cat. I wasn’t planning on it. I still didn’t feel ready after Sugar’s death. But his photo popped up on the Facebook page of a cat shelter that I’ve been following forever, and I had to meet him. His name is Johan, but mostly I call him YoYo.

In a weird coincidence I ended up meeting him on the three year anniversary of Sugar’s death, though he didn’t come to live with me until a few days later so I’m glad we’ll have an anniversary that’s not connected to one of the worst days of my life. He has FeLV which means he might not live for very long. Some sources say the median lifespan is 2.5 years after diagnosis, but others say they can live long, normal lives. Right now he’s totally healthy and you would never guess that there’s anything wrong with him. I thought that knowing he might not live for long would keep me from getting super attached, but oops that didn’t happen. It was an adjustment, figuring out how to share my home with another creature again. And at first I felt weird and guilty and maybe even a little resentful that he wasn’t Sugar. But it’s been about two months and now he feels like a natural part of my life and home and heart.

He has an Instagram, if you want to follow him.

[intothestarkerverse]

Paper Hearts

The Starker-Office AU the world needs.

Tony Stark is a paper salesman who hates his job but is secretly in love with the beautiful receptionist. A glimpse into their unorthodox courtship and happily ever after.

Tony Stark hated his job.

Selling paper was one of the most boring professions he could think of, and it had a very obvious expiration date that drew ever closer the more digitized the world became.  At best, he thought, he had another few years before he had to hit the unemployment line and look for another job he despised.  Nothing left to do but collect his paychecks until then, really.

His boss was an idiot.  

Scott Lang was no where near as funny as he thought he was.  His jokes caused Tony actual, physical pain.  The way the guy was a lapdog for Hope from corporate, that was even worse.  Didn’t help that for some reason Scott thought he and Tony were best friends.  The indignities he put up with for this job were not worth the pay check he took home.  Not.  At.  All.

The guy across from his desk was a killjoy.  You’d think Steve Rogers had some amazingly important job with how dedicated he was to it.  First one to arrive.  Last one to leave.  He was a puny little, sanctimonious nerd that Tony loved to play practical jokes on…which was really only one of two things that made the job bearable.  The second?  The second was Peter.

Peter fucking Parker.  

The receptionist.  

Light of his life.  

His reason for waking up in the morning.

The only damn reason he hadn’t left this fucking job in pursuit of something that didn’t make him contemplate using his letter opener to carve a giant hole into the middle of his chest.

Peter was young and beautiful and sweet and he sat directly in Tony’s line of view.  He caught himself staring at the kid way more often than he should.  He would day dream about running his fingers through those fluffy chestnut curls, tugging on the strands in the throes of passion.  He pictured what Peter’s lips would look like wrapped around more than just the straw of his water bottle.  He committed every centimeter of Peter’s face to his memory, knew every piece of clothing in the kid’s wardrobe…enough that he recognized when Peter had treated himself to a new sweater or pair of skinny jeans.  Tony stared because it was all he was allowed to do, and it was the only thing that got him through the day.  Peter caught him, too, but either the kid didn’t realize that Tony was head over heels in love with him…or he didn’t care.  

Tony really hoped it was the former, but it didn’t matter really because Peter had a fiance, Quentin Beck, some handsome asshole from the warehouse who had been promising Peter a ‘happily ever after’ that the kid had yet to realize was really a ‘never gonna happen’.  Quentin wasn’t ready to grow up, settle down, be a fucking man, and Tony had caught him flirting with people who weren’t Peter enough times to know he was a piece of shit.  Quentin Beck didn’t know what he had, but Tony did.  He hated that fucking guy, and the feeling was clearly mutual.

Someday.  Someday, Tony was going to sweep Peter off his feet, steal him away from the asshat and show the kid what a happily ever after should look like.

Someday.

If he ever worked up the nerve.

Until then…

***

Tony leaned against the reception desk, drumming his fingers on the Formica counter and waiting for Peter to finish his call.  Peter glanced up at him through a curtain of eyelashes, biting back a grin and holding a finger to his lips as he quickly scrawled a message on a notepad for Scott.

“Mhm, yeah, no, I’ll totally have him call you back…Yeah…Soon, for sure…Uh huh…Yep, I have here that it’s important so he’ll definitely get back to you…Yep…Cool, okay.  Bye.”  He placed the phone back in it’s cradle carefully and turned his attention to Tony, resting his head in one hand and blushing intensely under the other man’s gaze.  “That was corporate.  You could have gotten me into trouble.”

“I’d never get you into trouble, Pete.  I’d sooner die.”

“This job’s not worth dying over, Mr. Stark.”

“You might be…”

Peter choked out an embarrassed giggle.  “Stop it!  You’re the worst.  Did you just come over here to tease me or did you need help with the copier again?  For someone with half a degree in computers, you really suck with copiers, you know that?”

Tony shrugged, so what if that was one of his many excuses to spend a little time with Peter during the day.  He could hardly be faulted for that.  “Got you a present.  Wanted to make sure you got to enjoy it properly.”

“Oh yeah, what did you get me?”  Peter looked more than a little skeptical, and in all honesty, he probably had a right to be.

“Wait until Rogers gets back from his coffee break and then enjoy the show, Kid.”

“Oh my god, what did you do?”

Tony chuckled, stealing a piece of candy from the bowl Peter filled every week.  “I may have hacked his computer last night…sent him a very official looking email from the US Army inquiring about a very special kind of paper needed for a top secret mission and included a referral from one of his best clients.”

“You didn’t!”

“He’s always acting like his job is a matter of life and death, let’s give the geek a thrill, huh?”

“Mr. Stark, that’s so mean…”

“I could abort the mission if you really think…”

“I mean it would be a shame to waste all that hard work…”

***

“No.”

“Seriously, Steve, I haven’t even gotten to ask…”

“I know, but whatever it is you want, Tony, it can’t be good.  So, no.  My answer is no.”

Tony frowned, hanging his head in frustration for several seconds.  “I know you got Peter in the office Secret Santa thing…”

“How do you know that?  Did you just conveniently skip over the ‘secret’ part?”

Tony was trying really hard to be nice here.  Steve wasn’t making it easy.  “I asked everyone else.  Paid them.  Did them favors.  Tracked down the lucky bastard who was gifting Peter…and Fate hates me, so here we are.  Look, Rogers, I know we’re not friends…”

“Whose fault is that?”

“Mine.  Mine.  It’s clearly mine.  I accept the blame.  I do.  It’s just…I have something planned for Pete and I need to be his Secret Santa.  I will do literally anything.  Name your price.”

“I can’t be bought, Tony.  Peter has a fiance, or did you forget that?  Whatever you want from him, it can’t be good.”

Tony groaned, hitting his forehead against the top of his desk.  “I know Peter has a fiance, Rogers.  Believe me, no one is more aware of Quentin’s existence than I am.  The guy’s a jerk…a bigger jerk than me, and that’s really saying something.  You know it’s true.  He’s a piece of shit and Peter deserves better.  The guy is going to give him some generic piece of crap for Christmas, no thought at all.  You know it.  Peter’s a good kid.  He deserves…he deserves a lot more than that shithole.  Let me give him something nice.  I’m not going to break up his relationship.  I’m not going to lead him down the path of temptation.  I just want to give him something nice and make him smile without him feeling like he needs to do something for me, okay?  Rogers…I’m begging you.”

Steve stared at him for several long minutes before he sighed and nodded.  “Fine.  Yeah.  Okay.”

“Bless you, Steve Rogers.  Consider this our armistice.  War over.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.”

***

Tony had never wanted to hug anyone as badly as he wanted to hug Peter in that moment.

The kid looked defeated.

He was seated at a little card table towards the back of the comic book shop with several stacks of his own self-published comic in little piles all around him.  

No one was stopping to look at them.  To talk to him.  To acknowledge his existence at all.

His eyes were glassy.  The kid was literally minutes away from crying and he just couldn’t let that happen.

“Just your luck that you’d have your debut on a rainy day, Parker.”

Peter jumped, scrubbing a hand over his cheeks and putting on a brave face as he looked up at Tony with a paradoxical mixture of relief and fear.  “Tony!  You…you came.”

“Course I came.  Wouldn’t miss this for the world.  But seriously, you know rainy days are terrible for business, right?  It’s a proven fact.  Why…I’ve never seen so few people in here before.  Gotta be the weather.”

“Yeah…no, yeah, I’m sure you’re right.”  Peter looked like he didn’t quite believe Tony, but he was also apparently eager for an excuse to explain his lackluster turn out.  Had anyone else from the office even come?  Ass holes.  All of them.  And where the fuck was Quentin?

“So, let’s see…”  Tony reached out for one of the books, carefully flipping through the pages and perusing the content with a little humming noise.  “Hey, now, do you take inspiration from people you know?”

Peter was blushing.  “Maybe…”

“No maybe about it, Peter, you cannot tell me this handsome bastard isn’t based off me.”  He flipped the book around, tapping at an image of a roguishly handsome superhero in crimson and gold armor.  “You know I’m a raging narcissist, right?  I was going to buy a book anyway, but now I have to buy the whole series cause I’m one of the stars.  You in here, too?”

Peter nodded slowly, his blush darkening.  “Yeah…but I won’t tell you who.  You’ll have to figure that out…”

“I do love a challenge.”  Tony closed the book and reached out to add one from every pile to the one in his hands.  “So, how much?”

“Um…they’re ten a piece but…”

“But obviously that’s much too low so I’ll give you a hundred for the set of five.”

“Tony, no…”

“Fine.  A hundred and fifty it is.  You’re a tough negotiator, Pete.”

“Tony!”  The smile on Peter’s face was worth every fucking penny.  And who needed to eat, anyway?

***

“Mr. Stark!  You promised that the goatee was not because of my comics.”

Peter was standing at his desk with both hands over his mouth.  His face was as brilliantly red as the home made Halloween costume Tony had donned for work that day…the costume he had based entirely off of Peter’s comic and the character he just knew was based on him.  Had to be.  And dammit, if he was right…if he was right, than Peter had even made himself Tony’s fucking love interest…and wasn’t that just the most interesting thing he’d ever read in his whole damn life?

“So, I lied.  It’s not my fault. You’re such a damn good artist that I took one look at my comic book self with that awesome facial hair and said, ‘Fuck, Tony, why did you never realize that you’d be even more devastatingly attractive if you just had an impeccably groomed goatee?’  The world has you to thank for it, Pete, and I’m definitely keeping it because it’s been a hit.”

Peter’s hands dropped from his face to his sides.  He was chewing on his bottom lip, looking pensive.  “Who…I didn’t know you were dating anybody Mr. Stark.  I’m glad…they like it.  I guess…”

Tony didn’t bother to correct him.  Not yet.  A little jealousy might do the kid some good, let him know how much Tony wanted to choke the fucking life out of Quentin every time that piece of shit showed his face.

***

Peter was wearing a new soft blue sweater over a button down shirt and Tony was trying very hard not to swoon over how fucking adorable he looked.  He was playing with his gum, winding it around his finger before popping it into his mouth to begin again.  He had his phone concealed in his lap so no one could see him playing on social media while he was supposed to be working.  That was probably why he didn’t hear Tony approach until the man was standing directly in front of him, leaning against the reception desk and looking at Peter with what Tony recognized was something very close to the heart-eye emoji.  God, this kid.  

He really couldn’t take it anymore.

He had to make a move.

Be brave.

Be bold.

Be the fucking hero in that kid’s comic.

“What are you doing tonight, Pete?”

Peter jumped a little, looking up at Tony with a little flush of surprise.  “Tonight?  I don’t know.  Quentin’s got poker at Drax’s, so probably just going to lay in bed and catch up on Netflix.  Why?”

Tony smirked, dropping something on the desk in front of him.

“Oh my god, how did you get this?  It’s not even supposed to be released for another two weeks…”  Peter’s excitement was quelled by the sudden realization, “Is this a bootleg?”

Tony nodded.  He was never going to admit to how much he’d spent for a bootleg copy of something he cared absolutely nothing about because in the end…it was going to be completely worth it.  “Come over to my place tonight.  We can break the law together.”

“You think if the FBI raids your place while we’re in the middle of it that we could at least be cellmates, Mr. Stark?”

“Don’t worry, Pete, I’ll protect you in the prison yard.  No one would dare put a hand on you.”

“I’ve always thought you’d make a great prison husband.”  The witty banter ground to a halt with Peter’s last quip, his light brown eyes flaring wide.  His mouth had runaway without his better judgment, but Tony wasn’t quite ready to let it go yet.

“Oh, I’d make a great husband, prison or not.”  Tony held Peter’s gaze for a second longer than was probably comfortable for both of them, the kid’s face was red as a cherry tomato when they were interrupted by the sound of an exasperated sigh from behind them.

“Tony…could you just grow up already?  Some of us are actually trying to work…”

Peter giggled into his hand, leaning to the side to look around Tony at Steve Rogers’ desk.  “I thought you and Mr. Rogers had finally ended the Civil War, what did you do this time?”  He was careful to keep his tone soft enough that it didn’t carry.

“Hm?”  Tony was still distracted by thoughts of Peter as his prison wife, but managed to pull himself out of it to look back over his shoulder and shrug.  “I super glued everything to his desk last night.”

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

Peter was under his desk now, hugging his sides and laughing himself breathless.  

***

It was far from the first time he and Peter had spent time together outside of work.  They were friendly, in fact.  Quentin didn’t share any of Peter’s interests, and that left plenty of things for Tony to exploit.  Movies Quentin wouldn’t be caught dead seeing.  Video game releases.  Comic conventions.  Hell, Tony had even gone to a few games of D&D with Peter because he would take literally any excuse to spend time with that kid.

Now, they were cuddled up on Tony’s couch in his apartment with enough snack food to weather the apocalypse and a bootleg that Peter was dying to see.  Though, for something Peter was dying to see, he didn’t seem as enthusiastic about watching it as he had earlier that day.

“Pete?  You okay?  Something happen after work?”  He’d been fine when they’d said their goodbyes that day.

Peter ran a hand through his curls and let out a long, shaky breath.  “I think Quentin might be cheating on me.  I don’t have proof but…Drax didn’t know anything about a poker game tonight and it’s just, it’s little things, you know?  I found this little church I really liked for the wedding and I mentioned it to him, that we could maybe set a date…but he brushed me off.  MJ…you know from customer service?  She says I’m an idiot, that he’s never going to marry me and now I’m afraid she’s right…do think she’s right, Tony?”

Tony reached out, drawing the younger man close and inhaling the scent of his shampoo as he tucked Peter against his chest.  “You’re not an idiot, Peter.  You’re way better than that piece of shit in the warehouse deserves.  You’re beautiful and smart and funny and talented, and if you were mine…we’d have fucking eloped the second you said you’d marry me.”

Peter pulled back with a watery smile, “Yeah?”

“Mhm.  They increased the limit on my credit card last month.  Enough for two tickets to Vegas, a week long stay in a crappy casino and a quickie wedding chapel.  I’d lock that shit down before you had a second to realize that you could do better than me, too.”

“Better than you?”  Peter sounded as if that idea was more insane than eloping to Vegas minutes after a marriage proposal.  “Tony, there isn’t anyone better than you.”

“If you believed that, you wouldn’t be with that piece of shit, Quentin Beck.”

Now, Peter just looked confused.  “In what universe did I ever have a choice between you and Quentin?”

“This one.”

Peter’s head slowly canted to one side, brow furrowing and eyes narrowing.  “No…”

“Oh yes, Pete.”  Never in his wildest dreams had ever thought that Peter thought Tony was out of his league.  Was the kid blind?  Did he not own a mirror?  Did he not know how brilliant and funny and talented…  “Oh yes..”  Those last two words were repeated a hair’s breadth from Peter’s lips as Tony leaned forward to bridge the distance between them.

It was everything Tony had ever thought it would be and so much more.  Peter’s lips were soft, his whimpers were music to Tony’s ears.  Tony let himself bury his fingers in those chestnut curls and inhale the scent of him, revel in the taste of him, live in that moment as if it was the only one he was ever going to get.

The kiss went on until neither one of them could breath, until they were forced to pull back with heaving chests and swollen lips.  Peter stared at Tony for several seconds before he threw off the blanket and walked out of the room.

What.

What the fuck.

Tony was dumbfounded.  Was Peter not into it?  Had he just been shot down?  Was Peter not even going to talk to him…

No.

No.

Peter was back.

With his laptop?

Tony frowned, watching as Peter dropped the computer in his lap followed by something small and golden.  Glancing up, Tony caught sight of Peter’s now empty ring finger.

“Put your money where your mouth is, Stark.”

Tony stared. “What…”

“Two tickets.  Vegas.  ASAP.”

“Wait…”  He couldn’t be serious.

“No, you said you wouldn’t make me wait.  I already Snapped Quentin.  We’re broken up.  I’m single…but I don’t want to be.  So buy me those tickets to Vegas and a ring…when we get there.”

Tony slowly opened the laptop, stealing glances at Peter ever few seconds as he booted it and pulled up a travel site.  “You’re not…this isn’t a joke, right?”

“Not a joke.  You’re not the only one who’s been pining, Tony Stark.  Why do you think Quentin hated you so much?  He knew I was super into you…hell, Tony, I made you my lover in my comics…You’ve been my unattainable crush since I started my job.  You’re the nicest guy I’ve ever met. Most supportive.  We have fun together.  We have a lot in common.  We just…”

“Yeah.”  Tony was smiling now, not even second guessing himself as he typed in his credit card numbers.  “I don’t know if we can get a week off work…”

“Four day weekend is good enough for now.  I’ll call Mr. Lang and let him know we won’t be in.  I’ll have to tell him why…”

“God help us.”

***

Four days later when Tony and Peter returned to work in the same car, they arrived to find an impromptu wedding shower waiting for them.  Quentin had quit.  Left all of Peter’s stuff in the warehouse in a pile in the middle of one of the docking bays. But whatever, the less they had to see of that prick the better.  Scott seemed happier about their elopement than they were, and he’d gone to great lengths to print up t-shirts proclaiming that everyone in the office ‘shipped Starker’.  Even Rogers was wearing one.

Tony pretended to hate it.

Really he fucking loved it.  

Maybe his job wasn’t the absolute worst after all…

[dvandom]

Ranking the jobs in academia

This is from the perspective of someone who’s gotten the short end of the stick several times in physics job searches, but these categories are broad enough that they apply fairly well across disciplines.  There’s certainly sublevels within each, but generally speaking if you can reliably get a job at one tier, you could get one at any lower tier as well.  The “overqualified” disqualifier may make a school reluctant to hire a second-tier-competitive person for fourth-tier, but my experience has been that when the job market tightens up at the top tier, second tier administrators leap at the chance to hire their leftovers.  They may even reshuffle things to raise the quality of a position if they think they can snag a Big Deal candidate.  (It also worked to my benefit once, where I applied for a sixth tier job and after the interview they bumped it up to fifth.)

Top tier: You will have graduate students working for you, and if you wish, you can get away with only ever teaching graduate students and maybe senior-level courses in your discipline.  

Second tier: You will be able to teach majors in your discipline, and likely have some opportunities for research as well.  Maybe there’s no grad program, or maybe you won’t be directly involved with it, but you can spend at least some of your time dealing teaching classes that are solely taken by people who want to be there.

Third tier: The school may have majors in your discipline, but you’re being hired solely to teach introductory “I don’t wanna be here” classes.  What lifts this above the fourth tier is the possibility of being promoted from within to teach the better stuff.  And while research may not be an option here, neither is it required.

Fourth tier: No opportunities now or in the future to teach above the introductory level.  Usually found at two-year colleges, but some smaller 4-year schools won’t have a full slate of majors, instead trusting to transfer programs.  But at least you have a regular gig and might even have a chance at tenure.  You might be able to get promoted in terms of pay and authority, but if there’s no research opportunities and no upper division courses offered, there’s not really an “up” to go to.

Fifth tier: Visiting Assistant Professor.  These are found at almost every level of school, and can allow for some surprisingly high-level teaching, since you’re usually filling in for someone else’s regular load on a temporary basis.  The pay is so-so, and there’s no real security since the job is explicitly for a one or maybe two year term (either sabbatical replacement, or “retired/quit on short notice, will be advertising for a permanent position next year” cases).  The only thing that keeps this from being the bottom tier is that in SOME cases your odds of getting a permanent position at the same school might be better.  (I wasn’t able to flip either of my VAPs into a long term gig, different reasons in each case.)  But since changing jobs often means changing cities or even states in higher ed, the gypsy faculty lifestyle can be rough, especially since a lot of VAP jobs no longer pay moving expenses.

Bottom tier: Adjunct and part-time at any higher tier.  These are often semester-to-semester positions, without even the certainty of a one year gig.  It might not even offer a full time teaching load, meaning no or vastly reduced benefits.  Little authority, sometimes teaching alongside graduate student TAs as equals (Ironically, the worst adjunct jobs are often at the same schools as the Top Tier jobs).  Being hired to teach an upper division course part time has some benefits over the usual adjunct role, but it usually pays pretty badly.  Adjunct positions tend to be bad in every discipline, probably the least horrible in STEM.  Once in a while I’ve run across a technically adjunct position that was really more like a fourth tier job, because while required to advertise the position as adjunct, the school really didn’t want to have to run job searches every semester.

Note that while “Instructor” is generally considered the lowest rung of full time long term faculty, an Instructor position is not necessarily worse than a tenure-track one.  It depends on what the professional opportunities are, some Instructor gigs are better than Assistant Professor positions, because the school is a more desirable place to teach and there’s more variety in what you can do.

So...if you’re thinking of going into the exciting world of college teaching at some point, you need to figure out what tier you’re competitive in.  Top tier generally requires the ability to bring in outside funding, or a strong record of publication, or something else that will help the school make money or prestige on your name.  But keep an eye on the job market, because tight times will shuffle everyone downwards, and you might find that the positions you fit best are all filling up with people from higher tiers.  You’ll always get a few overqualified candidates in anything you apply to, “safety schools” aren’t just for students.  But what usually happens there when the job market is healthy is that the school makes an offer to the higher tier candidate, gets declined, and then hires someone who’s actually hoping to teach there.

(In my case, despite getting a PhD from a pretty well-regarded program, I came out without a strong “get research money” background in a less flashy field of study, so I considered myself solidly second tier.  But the job market started to tank in my broad field shortly after I graduated, so I’ve been pretty consistently beaten out for second tier jobs by people who really should have been getting jobs at the lower end of the top tier.  My optimism caused me to not apply for a lot of jobs I could have gotten, and I spent several years bouncing around VAPs and unemployment before settling in at a community college.  It’s a nice enough place, but I do miss the challenge of teaching upper division material.)

[scottielambchop]

Tite Five Vol. 1

Here's the deal: Unemployment really sucks.

But it's important to keep "flexing my writing muscle." So, I decided to take the blog format I had with my old company and take it here. Which is rad because I can now write all the f-swears I want. But even better, I can rename this stupid fucking thing. So without further ado, I present to you my Tite Five.

Arby’s Subscription Box

Well, the more things change, the more they stay the same. I may not be writing blogs for an ad agency anymore, but that doesn't fuckin' mean I won't talk about fast food.

For those who don’t know me (and now that I’m writing on my own blog, I don’t know why the fuck you wouldn’t), I have sort of backed myself into a corner with Arby's. It all started innocently enough. I wrote a Facebook post asking if anyone wanted to go on a romantic date to Arby’s. Seemed like a funny-enough thing to say. But then I doubled down and asked the same question again a few weeks later. Then again. And again. Soon enough, I became the “Arby’s guy.” Which, to be honest, isn’t the worst thing to be known for. Especially since Arby’s is pretty good and their Pizza Slider is one of the most underrated QSR food items on the market.

Alright, now that I got that little nugget of useless bullshit out of the way, let’s get to this subscription box. For the past couple of years, Arby’s has been fucking killing it in the advertising game. Their hilarious Ving Rhames-voiced copy spots and subsequent transition to more visual stuff with H. Jon Benjamin, their delightfully nerdy paper-craft social posts, and now, their subscription box. That’s right, you fuckin’ heard (or read) me correctly, Arby’s now has a subscription box.

In early January, Arby’s tweeted out they would be sending a subscription box called Arby's of the Month. All you had to do was sign up for $25, and you would get six mystery boxes of seasonal gear from everyone’s favorite roast beef provider. Now, I’m sure you’re wondering, “Who the hell would want that?” Well, let me tell you, a lot of people the hell would want that. It sold out in less than an hour.

Minneapolis' Fallon (my dream agency) has done amazing work with Arby's. They've taken your grandparents’ favorite fast food joint and turned it into something for everyone. By simply getting weird with everything they do, the younger generations have latched on. Honestly, who the fuck would think about sending a subscription box full of roast beef swag, and how the fuck did it work so well? The answer is Fallon.

P.S. If anyone from Fallon is reading this, my portfolio is scottielantgen.com. Hire me, please.

Re-Watching South Park

One of the most beautiful things about unemployment in the digital age is the ability to hunt for jobs across the country while sitting on your couch and streaming a seemingly endless supply of shows. And that’s exactly what the fuck I’ve been doing with South Park.

Now before I begin, I just need to say that, yes, the show’s liberal use of the “f-word,” “r-word,” and countless racial stereotypes DO NOT hold up well to today’s standards. And honestly, I’m not going to defend it. It’s not my place.

Problematic dialogue aside, what I love about rewatching South Park from almost the very beginning (just skip the first three seasons. You're not missing much) is how it’s a perfect current event/pop culture time capsule. I seriously forgot about Elián González, Terri Schiavo, how the popularity of Paris Hilton made everyone fucking terrible for a while, and just the Passion of the Christ in general. But thanks to South Park, those headlines came rushing back in vivid detail.

South Park still holds up as some of the best satire ever created. It’s quick, funny, and often offensive. And I’m pretty sure that’s what Trey Parker and Matt Stone wanted it to be.

Also, Butters and Randy Marsh are two of my favorite fictional characters.

Skittles Commercial: The Broadway Musical

The “Big Game” (who has the money, amirite?) is tomorrow, and it’s like a goddamn advertising cotillion. It’s the day where the entire country gathers around a TV to eat a variety of sauced meats, drink one of three different beers, and watch the newest batch of commercials from some of the biggest brands in the country. I am told there’s also a football game.

This is the day companies spend millions of dollars for 30 seconds of air time. It’s absurd. But it’s the most viewed event of the entire year, so companies feel the need to get their air time. Except for Skittles. They've been doing something a little different.

Last year, Skittles was fed up with the high price of “Big Game” ad placement, and decided to ditch that mess and do their own thing. So, they did what any other rational company who wanted to advertise to millions of viewers would do. They made an ad for just one person (Check it out. It rules). This little stunt got them billions of media impressions, which, in a lot of ways, is just as good as paid placement.

Where does Skittles go after the major success of last year’s stunt? Broadway of course. During halftime, Skittles will present a one-time performance of Skittles Commercial: The Broadway Musical. Lead by Six Feet Under’s own Michael C. Hall (fuck Dexter), this 30-minute musical is slated to be very meta. Their website states, “Through song and dance, the show takes an absurdly self-reflective look at consumerism and the ever-increasing pervasiveness of brand advertising in our lives.”

It’s fucking brilliant, and I can’t wait to hear how it turns out.

Companies Taking a Stand

Other than writing as many “fucks” and “shits” as I want, one of the coolest things about writing this blog untied from any agency has to be freely expressing whatever dumb-fucking-shit opinion I have. Don’t get me wrong, my old company gave me a lot of freedom, but I always felt it best to stray away from any “controversial” or “political” opinions. Now I’m off the leash and ready to spread my leftist propaganda like a mother fucking virus!

There is a great divide in our country. I know it’s always been there, but it seems way worse ever since the 2016 campaign trail. Regardless, with this growing separation between liberals and conservatives/left and right/cool dudes and white people, companies are also taking sides. And I think it’s a really fucking smart idea.

As you’ve probably seen (and possibly burnt your own shoes about), Nike was one of the first major companies to take a stand for what they believed in. Hiring “controversial” athlete, Colin Kaepernick, to be the face of their newest campaign was a really bold move, but it paid off big time.

Yes, they faced a backlash. Fox News was all up their ass about “DiSrEsPeCtInG tHe FlAg,” and Twitter users shared a litany of videos of people destroying the products they already bought and paid for. But overall, the campaign was killer and showed that the company was willing to put themselves at risk for equality and doing what is right—though I’m sure they’re heartbroken your shitty uncle won’t buy their socks ever again.

Gillette was the next big company to pick a side. They took a stance on the truly controversial topic of “not being a shitty dude.” I really don’t know where the backlash for this came from, but apparently, men don’t like being told that it’s wrong to catcall and sexually assault women. For a bunch of “manly-men,” they’re really crying like little babies over a minute-long video. The ad is still pretty new, but it already seems to be resonating well with younger male audiences, but not so much with boomers. Weird, right?

And lastly, Patagonia just announced that they will donate all 10 million dollars they saved on tax cuts to environmental groups. I don’t know how people will find a way to be upset by this, but I don’t doubt for a single second that someone will. The world is a nightmare.

Listen, I know there are always going to counter-arguments.

“Oh, they’re just exploiting a current issue to make money.”

“Oh, you may think they’re doing the right thing, but their internal business model is totally fucked.”

“Oh, not all men.”

“Oh, that money could have gone to hard workers and not a stupid tree or whatever.”

It really doesn’t matter. This is advertising. They are spreading a message. You may not need a razor at this moment, but that spot can also serve as a reminder to be a better man. You may prefer a different brand of athletic wear, but that doesn’t mean you won’t be able to see how much a person has sacrificed to support a cause. You may not be a white Instagrammer, but now you know that some companies are doing honorable things. These companies aren't just selling products, they’re also selling ideals.

Gratitude

As I’ve alluded to throughout this post, I recently lost my job. I wanted to make light of it a little, but I also just wanted to get some things off my chest. The truth of the matter is this: I am forever grateful for the opportunity I was given and the people I befriended along the way. I was able to work with and learn from some of the most talented people I have ever met. I took a huge risk moving to a smaller, one-agency town to take this job—and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I am forever thankful for this time in my life.

One of my biggest New Year’s resolutions was to express more gratitude. As I said before, the country is divided. I can’t seem to hop on any social media channel without seeing some kind of bullshit-fueled fight going on. Everyone seems to be focusing on the negative and no one really cares about the positive (I fully understand the irony of this sentence). But this could change by expressing more gratitude for the people in your life and amazing opportunities.

Listen, I could be really pissed about the current state of the world. And honestly, I am. But I’m trying to express more positivity. Everyone else can complain about our turd of a president 24 hours a day. Why not tell the important people in your life why you’re thankful to have them? It’s a really fucking simple thing to do—and it could possibly start a chain reaction.

Listen, I’m not going to tell you to not focus on the bad parts of your job or whatever because that shit is so much more easily said than done. And it also goes on a job-by-job basis (I couldn’t really think of a positive in working in corporate finance or some soul-sucking shit like that). But I will say this, I’m thankful I was able to work a job where I could see a bright side. I learned a lot and I’m looking forward to the next steps in my career.

I know it seems tough to remain positive in such dark times. But, fuck, this is your life. You’ve only got one of em. Don’t spend it worrying or complaining all the time. Find the positive and try and improve upon that… or don’t. It’s your fuckin’ life. Do whatever you want.

Well, guys, that’s it for my very first Tite Five (but also not, ya know?). I hope this was as enthralling as Chris made it out to be. I love you all. I’ll probably see you next week with another post of sorts. Take care and don’t drink and drive after the “Big Game.”

[patriotsnet]

Can Republicans Take Back The House

New Post has been published on https://www.patriotsnet.com/can-republicans-take-back-the-house/

Can Republicans Take Back The House

The Gop Has Yet To Land A Single Top Recruit To Run For The Senate Anywhere In The Country

Representative Kevin McCarthy discusses if Republicans can take back the House in 2020

The surest way that Republicans can stop whatever legislative agenda President Biden has in mind after the 2022 midterm elections is to win a majority in the US Senate.

Even more than the House, a simple majority in the Senate could let Republicans gum up everything from gun control legislation to Supreme Court nominations.

On paper, it seems easy enough. Republicans need to win just a single seat in order to flip the 50-50 Senate and possibilities for doing so are all over the map. Given that midterm elections often benefit the party out of power, and Democrats control two out of three levers of the federal government, Republicans wouldnât be overly optimistic in assuming Mitch McConnell might soon rule the Senate again.

But here is the thing about the GOPâs chances: At this early stage, they are having problems getting good candidates to sign up. And while the historical trends look good for Republicans you canât win something with nothing.

Republicans have yet to land a single top recruit to run for the Senate anywhere in the country â even in places where they have an opportunity to flip a seat â and a good candidate could make all the difference.

In Nevada, Republicans are pinning their hopes on getting former state attorney general Adam Laxalt in the race to challenge Masto, who won in 2016 by just 3 percentage points. So far, Laxalt has not announced plans to run and he comes with baggage: he lost a bid for governor in 2018.

House Republicans Voice Optimism On Winning Back The House Following Special Election Victories

Coming on the heels of two special election wins, House Republicans are feeling a new sense of optimism about their odds of taking back control of the lower chamber, with National Republican Congressional Committee Chairman Tom EmmerThomas Earl EmmerCrypto industry seeks to build momentum after losing Senate fightTrump-backed Mike Carey wins GOP primary in Ohio special electionJuan Williams: Biden’s child tax credit is a game-changerMORE saying he feels the House is more than just in play.;

While independent political forecasters have largely projected that Republicans face a steep uphill climb to win back the majority citing the number of retirements, the number of seats that flipped in the midterms and the fact that Democrats have a cash advantage top GOP lawmakers say Rep. Mike Garcia’s victory over Democrat Christy Smith in a competitive swing district indicates political analysts may be underestimating the partys momentum.;

The Garcia election in Los Angeles I think was a wake-up call to all the skeptics out there that in the middle of all of these difficult challenges, a Republican just flipped a seat in the suburbs of L.A., and that hasnt been done in 22 years, House Minority Whip Steve ScaliseStephen Joseph ScaliseLouisiana delegation asks for additional relief funding after IdaFEMA has funds to cover disasters for nowWatch live: Scalise holds news conference on Afghanistan MORE told The Hill.;

Al Weaver contributed.

Gerrymandering Texas Could Help Republicans Take Back The House In 2022

HOUSTON Fort Bend County was a sleepy suburban outpost of Houston when KP George arrived in the late 1990s, dominated by conservative politics and represented in Congress by Republican Party star Tom DeLay.

Twenty years later, the areas population has more than doubled in size, driven by fast-growing Asian, Latino and Black communities that in 2019 helped elect George an immigrant from southern India as Fort Bends first non-white county judge.

The wave of left-leaning voters that elevated George and other Democrats to local office in recent years may also help the area land a new congressional district. Texas gained two House seats in the 2020 U.S. Census, driven by a population boom in the Houston and Dallas-Fort Worth metropolitan regions, among other parts of the state.

But the Republican-controlled state legislature will be in charge of drawing the new districts, leaving Democrats on the sidelines, worried they may not benefit from the regions changing demographics.

You feel like youre not being counted, George said. My county is benefitting from people like me. But when it comes to the seat at the table , we dont have it.

Redistricting is a byzantine process that plays out behind closed doors, but the stakes are high. New congressional and state legislative lines will remain in place for the next decade, giving the parties that benefit most from redistricting considerable clout in policymaking and upcoming elections.

Also Check: Who Won The House Republicans Or Democrats

Democrats And Republicans Vote Straight In Line With Their Parties

Every Republican voted no Wednesday as the Democratic-led U.S. House passed the $1.9 trillion legislation. No Senate Republican voted for the bill when it;came before that chamber;Saturday.

During weeks of debate,;Republicans said the bulk of the spending would go;to an array of items unrelated to COVID-19 from Amtrak railroad service to arts and humanities programs.

Former President Donald Trump issued a short statement after the bill’s passage Wednesday, taking credit for development of COVID-19 vaccines in what could be a glimpse into Republican talking points.;

If I wasnt President, you wouldnt be getting that beautiful shot for 5 years, at best, and probably wouldnt be getting it at all. I hope everyone remembers! Trump said.

The bill; to Americans, extends unemployment benefits, addresses child poverty and health care programs;and speeds up programs to supply COVID-19 vaccinations and school reopenings; all items Democrats frequently tout.

Chris Taylor, a spokesperson for the Democratic Congressional Campaign Committee, said “the;American people will remember that House Republicans voted against cutting childhood poverty in half” and “getting stimulus checks into the hands of struggling Americans,” among;other benefits.

“House Republicans left American families out to dry,” he said. “The people won’t forget that.”;

Its Not All Bad News For Democrats

While it was unquestionably a good night for Republicans, Democrats still held onto most of the seats they won in 2018 and will continue to be the majority party in the House. Thats in part because they retained most of the suburban districts they picked up in 2018.

Of the 233 seats that Democrats held coming into the election,2 186 of them were in districts that were predominantly or partly suburban in nature, according to density categorizations by Bloombergs CityLab. Thus far, Democrats have lost seven of those seats, but they captured one GOP-held suburban seat around Atlanta. And thanks to redistricting, theyve also won two formerly Republican seats around Greensboro and Raleigh in North Carolina, which reflect the partys strength in more populous areas.

Because of their relative success in the suburbs, Democrats kept many seats in places President Trump won in 2016. Coming into the election, Democrats held 30 seats in districts Trump carried in 2016, and they wouldve lost their majority if theyd lost more than half of them . But theyve won 18 of them so far and picked up one from the GOP . In fact, more than half of Republicans gains have come in seats representing places that Trump won by a pretty sizable margin in 2016. Well have to wait a bit before data can tell us how congressional districts voted in 2020,3 but for now it seems many Republican gains were made by picking off the lowest-hanging fruit.

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The Justice Department Puts States On Notice About Election Audits And Voting Changes

“If they’re going to try to rely on rigging this game, because they don’t have a plan for the future and they can’t talk to the voters about their ideas and their vision, well, I think that makes me proud to be a Democrat.”

Maloney also posits that GOP turnout will be depressed in an election that doesn’t feature former President Donald Trump himself.

“There’s no evidence that this toxic Trump message will motivate voters without Trump on the ballot,” he says. “If the other side is making one big mistake, I think that might be it, which is a doubling down on this toxic Trump message of division and anger and racism and yet there’s no evidence they can pull out voters with the message without the messenger.”

He points to Texas Republican Jake Ellzey as a recent example. Ellzey was sworn in to the House on Friday, days after winning a special election that saw him defeat a Trump-backed candidate.

Maloney underscores: “It seems like the Trump endorsement’s not what it used to be.”

Here are more highlights from his conversation with NPR’s Susan Davis.

On polarization in Congress:

On the Republican Party:

On his own reelection in 2022:

I Do Not Buy That A Social Media Ban Hurts Trumps 2024 Aspirations: Nate Silver

sarah: Yeah, Democrats might not have their worst Senate map in 2022, but it will by no means be easy, and how they fare will have a lot to do with the national environment. And as we touched on earlier, Bidens overall approval rating will also make a big difference in Democrats midterm chances.

nrakich: Yeah, if the national environment is even a bit Republican-leaning, that could be enough to allow solid Republican recruits to flip even Nevada and New Hampshire. And then it wouldnt even matter if Democrats win Pennsylvania and Wisconsin.

One thing is for sure, though whichever party wins the Senate will have only a narrow majority, so I think were stuck in this era of moderates like Sens. Joe Manchin and Lisa Murkowski controlling every bills fate for at least a while longer.;

sarah: Lets talk about big picture strategy, then, and where that leaves us moving forward. Its still early and far too easy to prescribe election narratives that arent grounded in anything, but one gambit the Republican Party seems to be making at this point is that attacking the Democratic Party for being too progressive or woke will help them win.

What do we make of that playbook headed into 2022? Likewise, as the party in charge, what are Democrats planning for?

With that being said, the GOPs strategies could still gin up turnout among its base, in particular, but its hard to separate that from general dissatisfaction with Biden.

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Rising Violent Crime Is Likely To Present A Political Challenge For Democrats In 2022

But there are roadblocks to fully enacting Democrats’ agenda. Their thin majorities in both chambers of Congress mean nearly all Democrats have to get on board with every agenda item in order to push through major legislative priorities. And without adjusting or eliminating the legislative filibuster in the Senate, Democrats need 10 Republicans to join them for various legislation a near-impossible task.

Will 2022 Be A Good Year For Republicans

Can the GOP take back the House? Kevin McCarthy weighs in

A FiveThirtyEight Chat

Welcome to FiveThirtyEights politics chat. The transcript below has been lightly edited.

sarah : Were still more than a year away from the 2022 midterm elections, which means it will be a while before we should take those general election polls too seriously. But with a number of elections underway in 2021, not to mention a number of special elections, its worth kicking off the conversation around what we do and dont know about Republicans and Democrats odds headed into the midterms.

Lets start big picture. The longstanding conventional wisdom is that midterm elections generally go well for the party thats not in the White House. Case in point: Since 1946, the presidents party has lost, on average, 27 House seats.

What are our initial thoughts? Is the starting assumption that Republicans should have a good year in 2022?

alex : Yes, and heres why: 2022 will be the first federal election after the House map are redrawn. And because Democrats fell short of their 2020 expectations in state legislative races, Republicans have the opportunity to redraw congressional maps that are much more clearly in their favor. On top of that, Republicans are already campaigning on the cost and magnitude of President Bidens policy plans to inspire a backlash from voters.

geoffrey.skelley :Simply put, as that chart above shows, the expectation is that Democrats, as the party in the White House, will lose seats in the House.;

nrakich : What they said!

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Possible 2010 Or 2014 Midterm Repeat

Big bets on policy also don’t necessarily pay off at the ballot box, a lesson Democrats learned a decade ago when they passed the Affordable Care Act. President Barack Obama’s domestic policy achievement also helped decimate congressional Democratic majorities in the 2010 and 2014 midterm elections.

It’s just one reason why Republicans feel good about their chances in 2022, along with structural advantages like the redistricting process, where House districts are redrawn every decade to reflect population changes. Republicans control the process in more states and are better positioned to gain seats.

“This deck is already stacked, because they’ve been gerrymandering these districts,” Maloney says. “And now they’re trying to do even more of it and add to that with these Jim Crow-style voter suppression laws throughout the country.”

He maintains that efforts among Republican-led state legislatures to enact more voting restrictions show the party has a losing policy hand for the midterm elections.

Jim Jordan: Biden Has Not Done One Thing Right Gop Will Take Back House In 2022

OPINION: This article contains commentary which reflects the authors opinion

Ohio GOP Rep. Jim Jordan says that Joe Biden has not done one thing right and that he thinks Bidens incompetence will cost Democrats next year.

During an interview on FNCs FOX News Primetime, Jordan said Republicans will take back control of the U.S. House of Representatives in the 2022 midterm elections.Guest host Tammy Bruce said, What is your message to the American people as we deal with the unfolding disaster of the Biden administration?Jorden said, Well, yeah, defend anyone who gets attacked. These people running for school board because they

Read the rest of this story here: conservativebrief.com

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JD Rucker EIC

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Republicans Winning Money Race As They Seek To Take Over House In 2022

By Alex Rogers and Manu Raju, CNN

The National Republican Congressional Committee announced Wednesday that it had raised $45.4 million in the second quarter of 2021, the most it has ever raised in three months of a non-election year, as Republicans seek to take over the House in 2022.

This story has been updated with additional developments Wednesday.

Republicans Are Well Positioned To Take The House In 2022

Although we dont yet know the winners of some House races, we can already look ahead to the 2022 midterms and see a fairly straightforward path for the GOP to capture the House. Midterm elections historically go well for the party thats not in the White House, and the out-of-power party is especially likely to do well in the House, since every seat is up for election .

Since the end of World War II, the presidential party has lost an average of 27 House seats in midterm elections, as the chart below shows. No matter how many seats Democrats end up with after 2020s election at this point, they will probably end up somewhere in the low 220s a loss of that magnitude would easily be enough for Republicans to retake the House.

The recent history of midterms in a Democratic presidents first term seems especially promising for the GOP, too. Following Bill Clintons election in 1992, Democrats lost more than 50 seats in 1994, and after Barack Obama won the presidency in 2008, Democrats lost more than 60 seats.

If Democrats had added five to 10 seats this year, they could have survived a 20-seat loss in the midterms. Instead, Republicans will probably need to win fewer than 10 seats to gain a slender majority in 2022.

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Top Republicans Think Taking Back House And Senate Would Force Biden To Center

Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell says if Republicans can win back control of Congress in the 2022 midterms, it would force President Joe Biden into a political corner.

Speaking at an event in his home state of Kentucky, McConnell says Americans will have a big decision to make come midterms when control of the House and Senate will be up for grabs.

Do they really want a moderate administration or not? If the House and Senate were to return to Republican hands that doesnt mean nothing will get done, McConnell said.

What I want you to know is if I become majority leader again its not for stopping everything. Its for stopping the worst. Its for stopping things that fundamentally push the country into a direction that at least my party feels is not a good idea for the country. I could make sure Biden makes his promise to be a moderate, he added.

Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell suggested Monday that he would block a Supreme Court nominee in 2024 if Republicans regain control of the Senate after the 2022 midterm elections.

— USA TODAY

One of the things McConnell would be guaranteed to block from Biden would be a Supreme Court nomination, much like he did with former President Barack Obama and his last nominee, Merrick Garland.;

The Democrats hold a slim lead of nine seats in the House with all 435 seats up for grabs.

[a-quiet-borderline-diary]

My husband is in the military and he just recently found out that he won't have much (or possibly any) choice in where he works for his next orders. He originally thought it would be easy to stay in the area we currently live in because he planned to pick orders here, but since he went on limited duty for mental health he lost his ability to pick his next command. Based on what orders have the highest need for his job, we are likely going to have to move back to a town where his job took him when we first got married. The town is in a rural area, and the nearest towns are both about 45 minutes away.

I guess it could be worse. We are likely going to be sent somewhere 3-4 hours away from our current location.

My husband and I are both introverts, but over the past year and a half we have been frequenting a goth bar nearby and we made a lot of friends. For a time, we even had a clique. That's a long story so I might make another post about that one. In short, I had a girlfriend (my husband and I are open/polyamorous) and we broke up because of something that I perceived as betrayal. The break up ripped the clique apart, as I now want nothing to do with my ex and I refuse to spend time with her if I have to be too close. I still go to the bar we met at if she is there, but I won't go to smaller parties or social events if she is there.

Even with how broken my social life has become from avoiding people involved in the incident that made my ex gf and I break up, I still have some great friends here that I am really going to miss. It's a shame to leave them behind when it seems like I just began getting closer to them.

I recently had a trip hangout day with a new friend who is also part of this community, and talking to her about it kind of solidified to me that there are a lot of people in the community that you can't trust, and that people care more about popularity and being cool to people than standing up and being loyal to a few special friends. I don't really like that mindset, and in social communities diplomacy ends up being more important to them than creating real, emotional, personal bonds with others. Or maybe many of them just aren't willing to bond that way with me 🤷

It seemed like the friend that I had this conversation with and I had a good bonding experience, though. She basically came from the inside of all the shit-talking and drama because she is an employee at the bar, but she chose to leave the drama saturated group chats among other leaders and employees in the scene. This girl is also hella beautiful and poly... She can play instruments and sing and speak multiple languages. I would love to get closer to her, and it seems she acknowledges that she is seeking close bonds rather than shallow fun with friends like the others from the bar. I am saddened that I may not get to make the attempt to foster my friendship or relationship with this person because I have to move away soon 😔 I am going to try and live up the time I have left though, and enjoy getting to know her as much as time allows now while I'm here.

We should be hearing the confirmed news about the move by the end of this week. After that, my husband said it will likely be 3 months from then until we have to move.

There is a lot of damage to the house we rent from living in it for about 4 years with pets and not keeping up the best with repairs or cleaning. I hope the transition process isn't a complete nightmare. I fear we will owe more than the deposit to fix some things, but I am hoping some of the damage is understandable based on the amount of time we have lived here.

Before I found out that we will probably be moving a few hours north, I was hoping to look into buying a house with my husband in this area. That plan is basically ruined now because I don't really want to invest in property in the rural area we are moving to.

Another thing that worries me about moving is that I will have to find a job in the new location or a remote position. If my move is confirmed, I thought of requesting that my current job lets me do my work remotely because I will have no choice but to leave. I wouldn't be able to perform all of my current tasks remotely, but I would be able to perform the majority of them. I thought maybe they'd agree if I take a minor pay cut or something. They have done this for 2 other employees that had to move so I'm hoping they'll work with me.

Ideally, I would want to find a higher paying and remote job to move up a level in my field, but I haven't had much luck searching for remote jobs. I just need to figure something out because I don't think we will be able to get by if I'm not working full time. We have so much debt at this point to worry about that being a housewife is no longer realistic for me.

I'm trying to just take things a step at a time. I'll keep passively applying for remote jobs for now, and when the move is confirmed I will try to negotiate a remote role with my company. If they cannot accommodate that, and if no jobs are responding to my resume I might be able to look into unemployment. I'm sure we will figure it out one way or another. It's just hard not to worry.

Once I move, most of the jobs there will be in the city 45 minutes away. I want to avoid that commute as much as possible, but I'm afraid I'll end up with no choice but to settle for that long of a commute. It's better than no job 😑 but I would struggle even more with being on time in the mornings and it would stress me out more overall. I do not like driving.

It will be hard at first when we move because I don't have any friends living in that region 😭 I am hoping maybe using dating apps will help me make friends. A girlfriend would be nice too, but what I really want to shoot for is creating a new squad of good friends. There isn't much to do in that town, so the next best thing is find fun people who you can make the most of your time with at each other's houses.

I don't believe in *magic* or supernatural association with Tarot cards, but I find them to be a great psychological tool for reflecting and asking yourself questions from within. I have been using a Tarot card app to see what to make of the uncertainty surrounding moving, and most of the messages indicate something like "a chapter of your life is over, but you will find success. What keeps you strong is a lover, partner, or close ally" and that sounds about right. Even if moving causes social strain because we will be far away from our friends, I will still have the support of my husband. We have been married 6 years now and our bond has strengthened and grown so much over time. I won't feel alone as long as I'm with him. It will also help so much to have our pets with us. Even when it feels like I have no human friends on my worst days, I will always have my pets and they will be there for me as long as they live. I love them all so much 🥺

In writing this, I have put off doing chores. I really do need to start getting a system going for keeping up with the chores though... Moving out will be a long process and I need to really go through things and get rid of stuff over the next few months. It is just hard to get motivated to get started, and if I do it's hard to stay on task and complete work. I wish I had a better handle on my executive dysfunction.

Welp, off to go back to trying to clean again

✌️

[megaerakles]

Worst Valentine’s Date Ever

(This is actually from an upcoming chapter in one of my fics, Educational Decree No. 24, that I decided to share today because of the holiday theme. Minor-spoilery for the story in that, surprise surprise, Tom and Hermione end up dating. This is a fifth year au where Tom is their classmate. but things are happening pretty much the same as they did in OotP. If you want to know more, I’ve linked the story above. Happy Valentine’s day!!!)

One chilly Thursday in February found Hermione and Tom working together in the library, as usual. She could tell something was on his mind, because he kept opening his mouth and then closing it again. Unsure whether it would be a good thing, or a bad thing that would devolve into an argument, Hermione thought it prudent to just wait it out and get some work done while he worked himself up to whatever he was going to say. After maybe ten minutes, Tom finally spoke. “So this weekend is Valentine’s Day.”

That was what he was trying to talk about? Hermione couldn’t suppress an amused snort. “I’m aware of the date.”

He seemed to weigh his next words very carefully. “And do you… expect anything? From me?”

“If you’re afraid of me dragging you into Madam Puddifoot’s, don’t be,” She informed him, smirking as undisguised relief spread across his features. “No, I actually won’t be able to do much at all; I’ve got some business to take care of in Hogsmeade that day.”

He cocked his head at that. “Business?”

Hermione nodded. “I’ve made an appointment with a reporter. Harry will do most of the talking, but Luna and I need to discuss terms with her beforehand, and I wanted to give him time to take Cho out first—“

At the mention of Harry’s name, Tom had started to scowl, and soon he could no longer contain his indignant outburst. “So you’re going to blow off me, your boyfriend, on Valentine’s Day, for Potter?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Tom, you know it’s not like that. This has nothing to do with the day, and everything to do with the timing. If you want to do something ‘romantic’ or whatever, we can meet up after dinner. But we need to get this article published as soon as possible, which means this meeting has to happen ASAP.”   

Tom was silent, and Hermione (foolishly) thought that meant the end of the discussion, so she turned her attention back to her book. A moment later she heard him sullenly mutter, “What reporter have you got to talk to Potter, anyway? The Prophet’s been dragging his name through the mud for months.”

Hermione kept her head tilted down towards her book to hide her wide grin. “Rita Skeeter.”

Tom snorted. “I’ve really got to teach you how to lie, darling. If you want to get out of answering a question, you’ve got to pick a believable fiction.”

“I appreciate the advice, dear, but in this case, it’s actually unnecessary.” Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out Skeeter’s curt reply to her last letter and handed it to Tom. She had the pleasure of watching disbelief and shock spread across her boyfriend’s face as he read it.  

“How in Salazar’s name did you pull this off?” He asked, frowning at her once he’d finished. “I thought she hated Potter, and you?”

“She probably does,” Hermione said, smiling and feeling more than a bit smug. “But I really gave her no choice in the end.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed as he leaned closer to her. His voice was low and demanding as he said, “How?”

She hesitated sightly, because she imagined he was going to react rather positively to this news, but after a moment she said, “You see, I’ve learned a secret about her that’s… rather significant, and if she wants it to remain a secret, she’s got no choice but to to cooperate—”

“Blackmail.” His eyes had darkened and he purred the word like a caress. “You’re blackmailing her. You are.”

Hermione sighed. “You could put it that way, I suppose.”

All of the sudden she found herself being pulled out of her chair and into Tom’s lap. A second later his hands were fisting in her hair and his mouth was on hers, kissing her desperately. She gave a small exclamation of shock, but decided to just go with it, and they made out heavily for a couple of minutes before he broke apart from her.

“What brought that on?” She managed to ask once she’d caught her breath.

Instead of answering her he grinned, still panting slightly, his lips swollen and his eyes blown with arousal. Eagerly he asked, “can I watch?”

Hermione blinked. “What?”

“Can I come to your meeting and watch you blackmail Skeeter? Please?”

He hardly ever said that word, even to her, and it caught her completely off guard. “Why would you want—“

“Because you’re unbelievably sexy when you act like a Slytherin.”

Not sure whether to be insulted or flattered, Hermione bit her lip. “I’m not sure, having an extra person there could distract from the purpose of this meeting, and if we don’t get things settled then we won’t have another opportunity till March. And what with the breakout—“

“You’re telling me that you are going to be threatening and manipulating your enemy, on Valentine’s Day, and Potter gets to watch, but I don’t?” She hadn’t seen Tom look this offended since the time she said Harry was a better teacher than him.

Hermione sighed and pushed against his shoulder. He loosened his grip on her waist and she climbed off his lap. “I’m sorry, Tom, but this is really important. It’s business, not some… weird version of foreplay for your benefit.”

Tom crossed his arms and scowled at her. “I don’t see why it can’t be both!” His voice was just a bit whiny, like a spoiled child being told ‘no’. Which was pretty much what was happening, actually.  

Godric, she hated it when he pouted. She was still a good enough person that it was able to make her feel bad. And he knew it, too, which was why he did it. But while she was willing to give in to him over little things, like when he insisted she sit next to him during Quidditch matches, she was not going to bend on this. This was too important, too real.

“Look, I’ve said you can’t go with me, and that’s final. I’ll meet you back here as soon as I’m done, and we can have a nice evening together. Alright?”

After a long moment of glaring at the floor, Tom sighed heavily and said, “Fine.” Hermione smiled, pleased that he had accepted it. She sat back down and turned her attention back to work, and after awhile, she was able to get him talking about something completely different. He still sulked for the rest of the evening, but by the next morning, he was back to his usual self. His annoying, pushy, demanding, and yet somehow still devilishly attractive self.

By the time Saturday actually rolled around, she managed to forget entirely about the disagreement. Instead, anxiety about what she was going to do took over. What if something went wrong? What if somehow publishing this article made things worse for Harry? It would be her fault, wouldn’t it? By the time she met with Luna in the entrance hall, she’d nearly talked herself out of it, but somehow she managed to push on. When they arrived at The Three Broomsticks, she put on her brave face and requested one of tables in the back where they would have at least some privacy.

A few minutes after she and Luna had taken their seats, Rita Skeeter entered the pub. Hermione almost didn’t recognize her, as her once perfectly styled hair now hung limp around her shoulders and her thoroughly unglamorous robes looked like they had seen better days. Hermione couldn’t help but be a bit smug about how the once polished reporter seemed to have let herself go. Hopefully this bit of prolonged unemployment would teach her to not make up malicious rumors about innocent people…

Skeeter spotted Hermione and scowled deeply, but made her way over. She took ahold of the chair directly across from Hermione and yanked it out from beneath the table. “Well, Miss Priss, let’s get down to business,” she hissed, sneering at Hermione as she sat down. “Care to explain what this is all about?” Hermione couldn’t help but grin; once, she may have been intimidated by Rita Skeeter’s mean looks, but after spending so much time around the Slytherins this year, her nastiness had little affect.

“Glad you could make it on such short notice, Miss Skeeter,” she said, folding her hands in front of her on the table. “This is my friend Luna,” she said, nodding to her companion, who was doing that thing where she stared at a new person without blinking. Skeeter wrinkled her nose and looked at her for a long moment and looked the slightest bit unnerved. Finally, she bit out acidly,

“Pleasure. Now, little Miss perfect, I’d really like if you’d explain just why—”

Hermione cut her off by abruptly standing up and glaring darkly at the person who had just entered the pub. Her idiot boyfriend was grinning and weaving around the tables to make his way over to her.    

“What the hell, Tom? I thought I said no!” she exclaimed once he was close enough to hear.

“You said I couldn’t come here with you, and I didn’t. I came with Blaise.” Tom gestured to Zabini, who was standing behind his shoulder looking bored out of his mind.

“That was not what I meant and you know it!”  

“And who might this be?” Skeeter had twisted around in her seat and was looking Tom up and down.

Tom, of course, offered her one of his breathtakingly charming smiles and held out his hand. “Pardon the intrusion, Miss Skeeter. I’m Tom Riddle, Hermione’s boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend? Really?” Skeeter snapped her head back around to stare at Hermione, as if waiting for her to deny it. Her eyes glinted as greedy curiosity spread across her features.  

Hermione gritted her teeth. “Yes, he’s my boyfriend, but he is not supposed to be here! I told him to wait at the castle—”

Tom looked at her, putting on an overly exaggerated pout and speaking in a sickeningly sappy voice. “I know, Hermione, but I just couldn’t stand to spend all day away from you! Not on Valentine’s Day!”  

Hermione took a deep breath in and counted to ten as she let it out.

“My, my, Granger, you’ve done rather well, I must say!” Skeeter said, looking between the couple and furrowing her brows. “I honestly can’t quite believe it, after your romantic debacles last year. I thought you were still seeing Potter; he’s meeting us here today, isn’t he?”

“Hermione and I have reached an understanding where Harry Potter is concerned,” Tom said, somehow managing to sound demure, which he most definitely wasn’t! What a snake! “This love triangle business has been a bit difficult, but I simply care about Hermione too much to let jealousy and petty rivalries get in my way!”  

Skeeter’s face had lit up like a Christmas tree as Tom fed her the exact sappy bullshit she used to invent. “You seem like such a fascinating young man, Mr. Riddle, it’s a shame we didn’t get a chance to meet last year! Why don’t we remedy that? Please, have a seat!”

Hermione glared at her boyfriend, already scripting how she was going to lay into him later for ambushing her like this. He was completely out of line! “We really don’t have the time—”

“Don’t mind if I do!” Ignoring her, Tom slid into the seat next to Hermione and pulled her back down before sliding his arm around her shoulder. “If there’s one thing I love, it’s talking about how my lovely girlfriend and I overcame the odds and ended up together!”

“That sounds like a wonderful story, I simply must hear it!” Skeeter gushed, pushing her horn-rimmed glasses up on her nose before leaning forward and resting her head on her hands. “In fact, I’d like to hear everything! Once I get back to writing, I’m going to need all fresh material, and you seem like just the sort of character my readers would love meeting. Why don’t you start from the beginning? Tell me a little about yourself!”

That was all Tom needed to launch into a long monologue about himself while Hermione stewed next to him. Blaise ended up sitting down next to Luna and apparently lacked anything better to do than strike up a conversation with her, so Hermione alternated between listening to that and glaring at Tom. There was no way she was spending tonight with him like they’d planned, not after this!  

When Harry and Cho showed up half an hour later, arm and arm and giggling, it was to find her throwing eye daggers at her boyfriend as he kept his arm around her shoulders and schmoozed an ecstatic Rita Skeeter, while Luna enthusiastically lectured a bemused Blaise on the dangers of heliopaths.

Harry cleared his throat and gave Hermione a half-confused smile. “Well, this is… the strangest double date I’ve ever seen.”