#the Half Hour of Never Before Seen Footage

[punkrockisafulltimejob]

Do you know that when you're writing a parenthetical statement and you need to include an aside you use brackets or are you normal?

[truelovepolinator]

Nicola and Luke are ABSOLUTELY TOGETHER and have been all along and here’s how I know

(Friends, I’ve just finished this and it is INSANELY LONG. Like, two looong book chapters long. But I PROMISE it’s worth it. I was gonna cut it into multiple parts to make it more readable, but I’m going to be super busy over the next few days, so I wouldn’t have a chance to post subsequent parts until probably Christmas, so I’ve decided to drop it all now so I don’t delay the final victorious conclusion. Sorry, it’s so long, but I don’t really have time to rethink it and try to tell the story in a more concise way. Again, I think you’ll be glad you stuck with it if you want to feel as thoroughly confident as I am that Nic and Luke are absolutely together.)

(Also, I have to run now, but I'll come back to add relevant photos/videos as time allows. But I'm sure you're all familiar with them anyway.)

So I want to start by saying something I’m sure I’ll repeat. This is, of course, just my opinion and supposition based on the evidence available to me. But I also want to say, I am absolutely, positively sure now in a way I have never been. Genuinely not a doubt in my mind, and I think you’ll agree by the end of this.

It’s also worth noting that this may be nothing new to some of you. I’ve only been on this platform for a week and have barely scratched the surface of the great content here. So this is how *I* came to the final, joyful conclusion that everything is right with the world where lukola is concerned. I had long been sure they belonged together, but was afraid to embrace the theories about them actually being together now for fear of heartbreak, plus all the confusing signals about A & J, etc.

But all that changed a couple nights ago when I finally got the last piece of the puzzle I needed to see the big picture. There were just too many things that didn’t make sense, until they did! I literally couldn’t sleep that night (seriously only got about 2 hours) and then spent next day telling my husband the story for hours (in 20-30 minute increments as he could spare them during his slow, Christmas time work day).

My husband has been a patient, long-suffering skeptic through all of this. He’s put up with my rants and constant videos I just had to share, but he’s been completely convinced from day one that they simply leaned into their friendship to turn on faux relationship vibes for PR. He was absolutely sure it was all just make-believe for the fans. No matter what I showed him, he could not be convinced.

Until yesterday. Yes, I convinced the toughest skeptic in town.

I think it’s important to start with my journey into the Lukola fandom for context. I was a casual Bridgerton watcher until this season, and had never read the books. I liked season 1, I loved season 2, and I was looking forward to watching season 3.

I had planned to wait to watch the first 4 until the second half was about to launch (so I wouldn’t have to wait for more), but I realized after about a week that we needed to watch it immediately before everything was completely spoiled by timeline gifs and clips.

Needless to say, I was beyond hooked. Instantly. Season 3 was another level for all the reasons you all know. Finally I could engage safely with the fandom, but the process from occasional Polin/Lukola content to nonstop immersion took some time. So even following the second half, there was a TON of footage I hadn’t seen.

All of this to say, I basically missed all of the World Tour stuff as it was happening, and it took well into the summer to finally see so many amazing clips and edits that I was absolutely fucking sucked into the lukola wormhole. However, I was well behind many of you on the curve, and even to this day, I’m still catching up on things.

But by late summer, I was all in. I was sailing high on USS Lukola (or I suppose that should be the HMS Lukola!) because I saw exactly what you all saw. This was clearly real, their feelings were indisputable, and everything about their behavior and much of what they said was so far beyond PR, even “faking couplehood” PR.

They were real. Even if he had this dumb girlfriend. (I say that only in the good-natured, abstract sense that I wanted him with Nic, not in a personal “actually about her” sense. In fact, I’ve never said anything hateful about either A or J and I hope I never will.)

WHY AREN’T THEY TOGETHER???

I couldn’t resist the mystery.

It drove me absolutely crazy for months trying to understand why they weren’t together. Nothing made sense, but I mentally explored literally every possibility. They’re afraid of ruining their friendship? They’re afraid of disrupting the production if it goes wrong? These possibilities at least made some kind of sense and seemed to be the only explanations I could find. But in my mind, they weren’t good enough reasons to resist what these two so obviously had. Still, I’m not them, so that was easy for me to say. I had nothing to risk in this.

One or both of them is/are secretly gay? Soulmate besties instead of soulmate lovers? I didn’t think this was the case and nothing made me believe this. Yet, I was attempting to allow for every possibility. Still, with Nicola being the super vocal “gay icon” that she is, it was hard to imagine she wouldn’t live out and proud if that was the case. And apparently she lived with an unknown man for two years. Though she does always keep her private (romantic) life super private, so I suppose who knows? And, of course, Luke had two very public past relationships with women, but again, who knows, I suppose? This option doesn’t ring true at all, but it does exist in the universe of possible explanations for this inexplicable situation.

They love each other in a soulmate way, but somehow one of them just isn’t “attracted” to the other? Certainly, if the stories about Antonia were true, that might suggest that Luke might be attracted to an entirely different physical type than Nicola. But that didn’t ring true either because LOOK AT THEM TOGETHER! He can’t take his eyes off of her, let alone his hands. And the same for her. They are magnetized to each other. If that’s not attraction, what is?

One of them has baggage and isn’t ready for a real, serious relationship? This one seemed possible. People can have hang-ups or wounds for all sorts of reasons, and letting someone in – especially someone who might actually be your soulmate – can be terrifying. Self-protection by avoiding relationships and/or distracting yourself with less meaningful relationships is a natural way of coping with baggage. Yes, maybe this one? Neither of them seems obviously wounded, but what would I know? Most people don’t wear their wounds on their sleeves, least of all during a PR tour. Still, the energy flow between them seemed anything but wounded. It seemed like the healthiest, happiest thing in the world.

People kept saying, they’re blind and they don’t see it yet. But I don’t believe anyone can be that blind. Especially after watching all the countless edits and clips of their tour, which we know they did because Nicola is chronically online and sharing with Luke the best of it all (and sneaky Luke is likely lurking also).

So at the end of the day, I had no good explanation. It just kept not making sense.

Then those music festival photos of Nic and Jake (I’ll abbreviate sometimes for ease, but I do say their names) showed up. The fandom erupted into chaos with full reactions across the spectrum including a bizarre, almost immediate burst of (not yet named) jakolas, which felt like a disproportionate response to a few photos.

Admittedly, those photos did look quite friendly, and touchy, and yes, they stood arm-in-arm. But lots of friends stand like that at concerts. And Nic is known to be touchy-feely, so let’s not go overboard, I thought. However, I did acknowledge (in my head, I didn’t weigh in online at all) that it suggested that it COULD be romantic. I opted not to freak out, because either way, Nic’s love life is her own and I want her to be happy.

And it’s worth saying here that both of their private lives are none of my business, none of any of our business, and even writing this is completely at odds with that truth. I acknowledge that. But what I told myself, and actually meant it, was that I was going to stay out of it unless and until NicLuke got together. That was the only place I would invest my energy since they’ve both said they think it’s sweet that fans ship them. If they dated others, good luck to them. Be happy. But when the time comes…

Yes, friends, the time has come!!! But back to my story.

Note that (because again, I was still catching up), I hadn’t yet seen the swimming in Sorrento photos and had missed that piece of the puzzle at that point. Throughout this time, I’d see people refer to things on Twitter like everyone already knew what they were talking about, but hardly anyone ever took the time to explain. So I got lots of glimmers of things that others felt were notable, without actually knowing any details. Those pictures were an example. Another was the Claddagh ring.

I’m very grateful to some amazing deep dive blog entries by @threeacttragedy that explained the ring, “Bless the Telephone,” and other meaty, important history that I’d previously only heard mentioned in passing. In fact, one of her blogs is what first brought me here by referral from Twitter. And if you don’t follow her, you should!

In the past week, as I started reading blogs that broke down past dates and clues, I finally started looking them up one by one and trying to put the pieces together in my head. I’d seen the swimming photos by then, but I revisited them. I dug in to try to understand the references to a “New Year kiss” from the night the friend group (Rory, etc.) posted photos together from a Soho House party. I reviewed Hot Boy Summer, I rewatched the incredibly emotional video of Luke meeting Nicola’s mom, I looked at photos of the Claddagh ring and went to Chupi’s website. I learned about the LA photos from April, both Antonia’s version and the InStyle Polaroids. I reviewed all the photos of Luke and Antonia that I could find. And I reviewed all the photos and videos of Nic and Jake that I could find. Also, I listened to “Bless the Telephone” about one hundred times. Lol.

Regarding Luke and Antonia, I had the same response in this deep dive I’ve had every time. Weird. I mean, if I didn’t feel so strongly that Luke was in love with Nicola, and if I knew nothing about him except he was some hot actor, could I see him dating someone like A? Sure. But the fact that there are almost no pictures of them posing together, alone like a couple, is weird. Even if it’s super casual and she was just his date to some stuff. The fact that Luke looks grumpy in both sets of pap photos (premiere night and swimming in Sorrento), but A is smiling happily in at least one of the premiere night photos is weird. The fact that after the Sorrento pap photos, Luke seems to leave his friend group to come home early, and then stops liking any of his best friend Rory’s photos from there on, weird.

The fact that in the fall, she posts pictures harkening back to a place and time they were apparently together, but without any actual photos together, weird. And the continual drip, drip of Likes from Luke is weird. And then when a photo of Luke in a restaurant in Rome is posted by the restaurant, she immediately follows with a video story of someone making pasta in the same restaurant, weird.

Perhaps weirdest of all, the fact that she pre-posted the LA pictures, and then he gave other versions of the same shots to InStyle. Especially the switching seats thing. If my husband and I were taking pics of each other at a café, I’d take his picture in front of the traffic, and he’d take my picture in front of the restaurant, because that’s where we’d be sitting. Across from each other. So why switch seats to take the photos? It’s not like that street with traffic was such a fantastic backdrop that we’d each need our turn with that shot? And they’re the same, with the same table number, but different. Sure, traffic moves, but weird coincidence that they each had a white truck, but a DIFFERENT white truck. So, like I said, weird. Always implying they were together, but never actually saying/showing it. Weird.

I read all sorts of theories from pragmatic (we just have to accept that they’re dating) to hateful (they’re not together/never were, but she’s obsessed and keeps inserting herself in a pathetic, desperate plea for attention and followers) to seemingly far-fetched (some sort of NDA that means for some reason Luke is obligated to Like her photos). Only the first of these seemed plausible. I maybe didn’t like it (not maybe, I didn’t like it at all), but I thought, “Yes, I guess we just have to accept that they’re probably together until they tell us otherwise.”

(Though I held out a small sliver of “but we don’t know anything for sure until L and/or N tell us themselves” hope, which remains true even as I write this.)

Now, let’s talk about Nic and Jake. First, there were those shots from the concert (discussed above). Then, I believe, were the NYC shots (if I’m not confusing the order). In the NYC shots, they were both there, but they weren’t especially intimate in any interpersonal sense. Then, the pap shots on the street posted on DM, ostensibly catching them walking home together, holding hands and arm-in-arm after a night at the pub. With those photos came an onslaught of fandom fury and gossip site reporting about how “Nicola Coughlan confirms her relationship…” Same story runs across a bunch of trashy sites, all saying the same thing and citing an unnamed source talking about how besotted they were, or whatever the quote was.

Admittedly, I was among the furious fans. Not because of what the pictures showed. Again, I was trying to be serene and Zen about them and their private lives. I believed with all my heart that NicLuke belonged together, but if now wasn’t their time, I’d have to wait. I didn’t love that I’d heard he was only 24, but I was trying to balance my efforts to be a non-judgmental person with my discomfort over that issue and reminding myself that her choices are none of my business (unless she chooses Luke!).

So I did my best to refrain from judgment, even as I saw the fandom erupt into toxic madness about whether it was true, whether he was gay, whether the age gap was wrong, whether DM lied about the date, and if they did (which they did), why? But I figured, unless the photos were very, very old, things weren’t likely to have changed in their relationship over a couple weeks, so I wasn’t overly concerned about the date.

However, I was angry about all these stories (basically the same story across the board) announcing that she’d “CONFIRMED” the relationship. It made me very angry that they said she confirmed something when she’d done nothing of the sort. I wasn’t prepared to argue that she wasn’t dating Jake at that point, but why would they all run this story, with this headline, when what actually happened was a paparazzi photographer snapped shots and sold them, then the media drew conclusions from what they saw.

Nicola never confirmed a damn thing. So why were they running this headline so universally?

I was also angry that the photos existed at all. Photos in her neighborhood could reveal her location and put her safety at risk. Also, how did they happen to be there to take those photos late one specific night? Felt like they must have received a tip. But I moved on and forgot about that part.

Time went on and I saw more and more discussion of Jake’s sexuality. I don’t really want to get into that here because I don’t really feel comfortable speculating about anyone unless they choose to explicitly come out, but I did finally start poking around his page, Douglas’s page, etc. and began to understand why people were saying what they were saying. However, I reminded myself that bi/pan-sexuality exists and I wasn’t willing to partake in bi-erasure, so I held my tongue and kept watching.

Now, at this point, I want to remind us all that Nic has always been extremely private and uttered nary a peep in public about her romantic/sexual life. And fair enough. It’s none of our damn business. Also, she’s talked extensively about how women are not just men’s girlfriends and her feminist take on many things and how it doesn’t feel nice to know that people are more interested in her love life than her work. She’s worked freaking hard to achieve the success she’s now enjoying, and she certainly should not be reduced to a woman in a relationship. No matter who is on the other end of that relationship.

(Again here, I feel the need to acknowledge my hypocrisy in writing this, but I really do genuinely love Nic’s work and spirit and activism, etc. as well.)

So, in light of her position on all of that, we wouldn’t expect her to go public with a new love interest. The fact that she was papped with this guy (if indeed he was a love interest) was just an indication of how much her celebrity and profile have grown. There’s greater interest now and she’s more recognizable now, so it’s to be expected that she’d have a harder time keeping her love life private now than in the past. Not so strange then, that she got caught a couple times in paparazzi photos at this point.

However, would she really then go public with that guy? That would mark a radical change in her behavior just when you’d think she’d want to be the most private because the glare of the spotlight is brighter than ever. Still, she allowed a public photo with him, Camilla, and Evan Ross Katz to go out shortly thereafter. If one believed they were dating, that could certainly be interpreted as a launch. Yet, as I said, would she really do that if she were dating him?

Then he started popping up everywhere. I won’t get the chronology here right because I don’t want to research the dates right now, but there was the Charlie xcx concert, in which she appeared with Jake and Dylan, who is out and proud. The Queer premiere where he was just caught in the background of a fan photo. The simultaneously released photos from the red and gold restaurant (with a mysterious third person taking the photos). There was the apparently brunch-time photo of her with Jake and two others, taken by Dylan. And most recently, Louisa’s photo with Jake and Douglas (who is also openly gay and close friends, if not more, with Jake).

I’m not mentioning all the players in all of these because it’s not critical to the story, and I may be forgetting some photos, but there is a point to all of this. First, there’s potentially a notable shift in what she’s allowing to be shared here. Again, historically, she’s never shared anything about her love life. Suddenly, she’s letting him be photographed everywhere. Also, at most of these events, there were other queer participants and/or queer content (the movie premiere).

And while she’s never allowed her romantic life to be shared, you know what she has often shared? Photos with all of her platonic friends, including her huge friend group of many, many gay men. So this trend in what she’s allowing to be shared suggests that she’s telling a story and clarifying Jake’s role in her life.

But then there’s that one mystery release, the simultaneously timed restaurant photo drops. Clearly coordinated, clearly indicating they were there together. No indication about the third party. Why? Just enough to hint that there might be something going on, and to continue wreaking havoc in the fandom.

Because remember that toxic fandom bickering over all of this? The jakolas swearing they’re in love and soon to be engaged and furious at the lukolas for “being blind and refusing to accept the truth and it’s so disrespectful to Nic ('who you claim to love') by disregarding her feelings and treating the love of her life so badly. They keep showing you they’re in love and you won’t listen!” Etc., etc.

Meanwhile, the lukolas fall into a couple camps. By this point, most have decided Nic and Jake aren’t dating, but some remain circumspect. Some scream back at the jakolas, ostensibly in defense of Jake, saying very similar things about “Jake and his friends are doing everything in their power to show you the truth and you refuse to see it.” And a variety of other responses. Everyone’s mad at everyone.

And all of it, every bit of it, keeps us ALL talking about Nicola Coughlan and Luke Newton. Nonstop, every day.

Now, we are nearing the big mic drop of all of this, and I want to say at this point that we need to remember that Nic and Luke are HUMAN BEINGS who have a right to privacy. And they are celebrities living in a world that has an intense interest in their love lives. And sometimes, we might not feel good about the measures they must take to protect their privacy. We might hate those measures. We might feel manipulated, and we are. But if we love and respect them as much as I hope we all do, we can also understand and forgive them for taking such measures.

A quick review of important factors in all of this:

THINGS THAT TELL US IT’S REAL

The Galway trip and that very emotional introduction to Nic’s mom, which looked for all the world like a woman meeting her future son-in-law

The Claddagh ring and how she’s been wearing it

The things reporters, cast, and crew have said in passing and/or posted, not to mention recent open shipping from Ryan Wheeler and Shondaland’s IG

Everything we saw with our own eyes on the world tour, not to mention everything we’ve seen in the BTS

Little droplets of NicLuke over the recent months like Bless the Telephone and (not yet mentioned above) the S4 selfie and the photo of them in costume that Nic said she thought she’d shared, but now it’s ours (while she hasn’t posted any Jake)

The absolute consistency of all of this as a story that makes sense

THINGS THAT MAKE US DOUBT IT’S REAL AND/OR KEEP US GUESSING AND DISCUSSING

The premiere night pap photos (and though I didn’t mention it earlier, the fact that Nic went home that night so she wasn’t around for A’s attendance)

The friend group photos at Soho House with Luke, A and others

The weird LA InStyle photos

The Sorrento swimming photos

The multiple sets of pap photos of Nic and Jake, including grainy night-time neighborhood photos (with a woman walking a dog in the background)

The way every gossip news outlet ran the same “Nicola confirmed her relationship” story with the same headline and the same anonymous quote

The weirdly devoted, intensely defensive jakolas/Jake stans that seem to care about nothing but Jake/jakola out of nowhere and love screaming at and stirring up shit with lukolas

The chaos and constant discussion of all of this over the past 6+ months

The absolute inconsistency of any of this with anything in the top group

So, this mystery just gets deeper and deeper, and none of it makes sense. Every time I’d try to accept that they were just seeing these other people, something would bump in my head. There were just too many weird things that didn’t quite make sense and the biggest, weirdest one of them all was that NICOLA AND LUKE ARE CLEARLY IN LOVE WITH EACH OTHER.

So while the pieces would always almost fit, the puzzle never quite took shape. Until two nights ago when I stumbled on @lukolafan ’s page after they liked one of my posts. I scrolled down their page and found a link labeled “Lukola PR Strategies and Fake Narratives.” I cannot scream this loudly enough. GO VISIT THAT LINK!!!!! (I’ll add the links myself later if I have time.)

I did and it led to a series of Reddit posts taking an academic approach to teaching us, the general public (and lukola fans) PR Media Literacy. Among the various topics it discussed were things like:

“PR Firms and Entertainment Media: Coordinating “News” Across Gossip, Entertainment, and Official Publications,” which talks about using anonymous sources, more about staged paparazzi, and repeated narratives (“outlets echo identical stories, reinforcing PR-approved messaging, for example, multiple outlets platforms describing a celebrity ‘rising above’ a controversy, quoting the same anonymous insider” – Sound familiar?)

“The Invisible Hand of Celebrity Privacy: How PR Fabricates Narratives and Manipulates Fans,” which includes ways that PR strategies intentionally manipulate fans to fight/debate celebs faking relationships, and more (sound familiar?)

There’s honestly so much meat in all of these (there are a couple others as well) that they are ALL worth reading. There is definitely some repetition, but still, the content is super insightful and revealing and can help us all be more savvy consumers of media.

But I want to focus on two CRITICAL posts, in particular.

“The Role of Staged Paparazzi and Gossip Outlets in Celebrity PR Campaigns”

The first part of this piece talks about the method for staging fake paparazzi photos to create narratives. Two items of particular note (and I’m excerpting directly):

Quality Control of the Image: While professional photographers use high-quality cameras, staged paparazzi photos are intentionally manipulated to appear grainy or blurry. This adds a layer of authenticity to the photo, making it look as though the photographer stumbled upon the celebrity by chance.

Extra Figures in the Background: Another key tactic in staged paparazzi photos involves the use of background extras—people who might be walking with dogs, pushing strollers, or simply in the vicinity.

Think of Nicola’s photos walking home with Jake, a woman walking a dog behind them. Some of them are clear, but some are quite grainy, despite the fact that professional photographers have great equipment and are more than capable of taking a night-time shot.

Another excerpt…

Gossip Outlets: DeuxMoi and the Symbiotic Relationship with PR Firms

With the rise of user-generated content and anonymously submitted tips, gossip websites have become integral to the modern celebrity PR machine. Sites like DeuxMoi thrive on rumors and speculation, providing a platform for fans and anonymous sources to share celebrity gossip. PR teams exploit these platforms to feed their desired narratives without appearing to directly control the flow of information.

How Gossip Sites Like DeuxMoi Work:

Anonymous Tips and Leaks: PR teams often send anonymous tips to gossip outlets, offering details about celebrity activities or sightings. These tips are deliberately vague, leaving room for interpretation and speculation. Once posted on sites like DeuxMoi, the stories tend to snowball as they are shared across social media and republished by larger outlets.

Fueling Speculation: These posts generate buzz and speculation, keeping celebrities in the public eye without any direct confirmation. Gossip sites become a key player in amplifying the narrative, as fans, influencers, and media outlets continue to discuss and spread the information.

Mutual Benefits: While gossip sites operate independently, there is a mutual benefit to the relationship between them and PR teams. Gossip sites thrive on traffic and engagement, while PR teams can ensure their client’s name stays relevant in the public discourse. By subtly feeding stories, PR teams maintain control over how their celebrity’s narrative unfolds.

The piece goes on to give specific examples like Kendall Jenner and Bad Bunny, Tomdaya, Gigi Hadad and Zayne Malik, etc. then talks about fake fan interactions and how to spot them.

It offers key questions to ask about the photos you see (like what story is it telling and why and who benefits?) and then it gives this example. If your ears aren’t already fully perked, this will do it:

Example: 37-Year-Old Famous Actress and 24-Year-Old Lesser-Known Celebrity

Narrative of Romance or Distraction: In this case, the 37-year-old actress is likely fueling rumors of a relationship with the 24-year-old to either distract from something else in her personal life (like a real romantic partner) or to refresh her public image. The younger celebrity could be hired to play a temporary love interest or interest figure in the media, leading people to speculate whether they are more than just friends.

Creating a Romance or Mystery: The photo of them walking arm-in-arm, laughing, or holding hands might suggest that a romantic connection exists. This could be used to make the actress seem more relatable, desirable, or single, even if there is no romantic involvement behind the scenes.

Diverting Public Focus: If the actress is privately in a relationship with another celebrity or involved in an ongoing controversy, the staged photo with the younger celebrity helps to deflect attention. By inserting a "mystery romance," the public is more interested in who the new partner is, leaving the actress’s real partner or issues to stay out of the spotlight.

PR Stunt to Revitalize Publicity: The actress might not just be looking for romantic gossip but also fresh exposure. A curated paparazzi shot could serve as a PR tool to keep the actress's name in circulation—be it through romantic rumors, new partnerships, or simply new media content to fuel speculation.

Potential Body Double for Real Partner: If the real partner is shying away from the public eye or trying to avoid the media, the younger celebrity might act as a "body double" or decoy. This helps maintain an image of the actress being in a public relationship, while allowing her to keep the real relationship.

Don’t think I need to explain the relevance of this very specific example. There’s a lot more in the post, but I’ll move on for now to the next key post.

“Breadcrumbing and Coordinated Campaigns”

In this piece, they offer first some key breadcrumbing tactics, many of which sound awfully familiar.

Common Types of Breadcrumbs:

Cryptic Social Media Posts: Celebrities post vague messages or abstract references, sparking fan theories. Example: Harry Styles posts cryptic images or quotes, prompting speculation.

Coordinated Social Media Timing: PR teams synchronize posts to create the illusion of a shared narrative. Example: Taylor Swift and Karlie Kloss posted similar content at the same time, fueling relationship rumors.

Accidental Social Media Interactions: Liking posts or commenting on ambiguous tweets creates intimacy and speculation. Example: Kendall Jenner engages with fans on social media, fueling rumors.

Seemingly Innocent Photos: Casual photos subtly hint at a larger narrative. Example: Zendaya and Tom Holland posted photos together, teasing their relationship.

Cryptic? Like Bless the Telephone? Or a mysterious left-handed guy holding a phone in the background while Nic gets ready?

Synchronized like Nic and Jake at that restaurant? Or as far as that goes, like Nic and Luke with the S4 selfie?

Accidental social media interactions? I didn’t go into that here, but we’ve seen lots of odd likes and things, lots of Nic interactions, oh, and those RW and SL likes of late.

Seemingly innocent photos. Like very happy looking S4 pics and the “now it’s yours” BTS photo?

Perhaps most of this could be interpreted as just genuine fan interaction and fan service, which I think it is to some extent. It’s a natural part of the business. But it’s also very often done with intention.

But here’s the more important part of this piece. It gives some case studies (Ben and JLo, Shawn and Camila), then it gives two “abstract” examples.

YOU’LL LOVE THIS. Note that the second example changes to an actor and a musician, but don’t let that fool you. Keep reading for some unmistakable specifics.

Breadcrumbing with a Fake PR Girlfriend: Case Study of Celebrity 007

For Celebrity 007, breadcrumbing is used to create a false narrative about a relationship with a PR girlfriend. This helps maintain fan interest while deflecting attention from the celebrity’s true personal life.

How It Works:

First Breadcrumbs: The PR strategy begins with posts from both the celebrity and the PR girlfriend, hinting at a connection without confirming it. Example: Celebrity 007 posts a picture from a Paris restaurant or cafe in LA and the PR girlfriend shares a similar post from the same location but from a different day with different white trucks in the background (double check the Instyle Stunt images!!!)

Expanding the Narrative: Shared travel posts and indirect interactions continue the illusion of a relationship. Example: Matching geo-tags in posts from Rome suggest they were there together.

Indirect Engagement: Likes, comments, and ambiguous interactions increase intrigue without confirming the relationship. Example: The PR girlfriend comments, “Great to be here with you! 💖,” on Celebrity 007's post.

Paparazzi Shots: Carefully timed candid shots further reinforce the illusion of a relationship. Example: Paparazzi photos of Celebrity 007 and the PR girlfriend walking hand-in-hand, fueling speculation.

Note:

Café in LA, same location, different trucks?

Matching tags in Rome?

Likes and ambiguous interactions

Carefully timed (say at a premiere party) candid paparazzi shops w gf walking hand-in-hand

And then there’s the next one. In the interest of length since this is already hella long, I’ve removed some less relevant parts, but I encourage you to read it yourself.

Breadcrumbing to Hide a Real Relationship: Case Study of Celebrity 009

Why Hide the True Relationship?

In celebrity culture, the decision to keep a relationship private—or hidden—can be a strategic move, driven by a mix of personal privacy and professional interests. Some celebrities may choose to share their personal lives openly, but for others, particularly those who value their privacy or wish to control their public image, keeping a relationship private is key. This is especially relevant for two celebrities who are romantically involved but prefer to maintain discretion, despite public curiosity about their relationship.

Whether it’s a high-profile couple like Beyoncé and Jay-Z, or a less conspicuous pairing, the decision to hide the true nature of a romantic relationship often involves balancing personal desires with career strategy. In this scenario, let’s explore why two celebrities might choose to keep their relationship under wraps and the complex PR considerations that lead them to do so.

Media Scrutiny/Escaping Constant Surveillance: Navigating the Spotlight Together (I’ve combined two sections here for length)

When two celebrities become romantically involved, the media will inevitably take notice. The relationship can quickly become the focal point of constant headlines, paparazzi photos, and gossip columns. For celebrities who value their privacy, this level of scrutiny can feel overwhelming, as every public appearance or moment shared can quickly turn into speculation, even if the couple doesn’t wish to attract attention.

Romanticized Expectations: The Pressure of Perfection

Media scrutiny often creates an unrealistic, romanticized version of a celebrity relationship. Fans and the public tend to project their fantasies onto famous couples, imagining them as the perfect, unbreakable pairing. The real complexities of a relationship—differences, compromises, and struggles—often don't fit neatly into the idealized narratives created by the public.

For a couple like Actor A and Musician B, the pressure to live up to these idealized expectations can be exhausting. By choosing to keep their relationship private, they can avoid the constant pressure to fit into a preconceived mold. Hiding the relationship from public view allows them to keep things grounded and avoid being turned into a media spectacle.

Brand Control: Managing the Image of "Singleness" or "Availability"

For many celebrities, their public image is closely tied to their brand, and that brand may depend on their perceived "availability" or their status as desirable, unattached individuals. The way the public perceives a celebrity’s romantic life—whether they are single, dating, or in a long-term relationship—can have a significant impact on their professional success and marketability.

Creating Room for Desire: The Allure of the Single Celebrity

Consider Actor A, a leading man known for portraying romantic heroes on screen. The public’s perception of Actor A as a single, unattainable figure is key to their marketability, both in the media and as a brand. If they were to publicly reveal a relationship with Musician B, it could diminish that aura of unattainability. Similarly, Musician B may want to maintain a flirtatious public persona, which could be undermined if they were publicly involved with someone. By keeping the relationship private, both celebrities retain the allure of being desirable and unattached, feeding into the fantasies of their fans.

Avoiding the "Couple" Brand: Risk of Being Reduced to a Package Deal

When a high-profile couple’s relationship is made public, they may become known less for their individual work and more for their collective identity as a couple. In some cases, the couple's public appearances or shared brand messages may overshadow their individual projects. Think of Beyoncé and Jay-Z, who have an incredibly powerful couple brand that often eclipses their solo endeavors in the media. For celebrities like Actor A and Musician B, the fear of being seen as a "package deal" might drive them to hide their relationship. This allows both to maintain their distinct identities, keeping their projects and brands separate and preventing the public from viewing them solely as a pair.

Respecting Boundaries: The Vulnerability of Celebrity Relationships

Even when two celebrities are involved, the vulnerabilities of a relationship can become the focus of media attention if they go public. Romantic relationships—especially those in the high-pressure world of celebrity—are often fraught with ups and downs. The public might demand to know every detail, fueling rumors of breakups, infidelities, or relationship drama. By keeping their romance under wraps, Actor A and Musician B can avoid becoming the subject of constant gossip and can maintain some semblance of normalcy in their private lives.

Avoiding Disruptive Publicity

Celebrity relationships often attract media scrutiny not only about their romantic lives but also about how their relationship affects their careers. The public and the media often delve into the smallest details, speculating about how the relationship might impact their professional trajectories, previous relationships, or future projects.

Career Disruption: The Challenge of Balancing Love and Work

For celebrities like Musician B, a new relationship can take attention away from their upcoming album release or concert tour. The media’s obsession with their personal life might overshadow the launch of a new professional project. Similarly, if Actor A is in the middle of promoting a film or preparing for a big role, the press could focus more on their relationship than their craft, disrupting the flow of their work.

I won’t bother reviewing the relevance of all of the above. I’m sure you can see it plainly for yourself. The examples are absolutely, positively referencing Nicola and Luke, and the reasons for hiding it are super relevant. Especially boundaries, disruption, pressure to be perfect, and being reduced to a package deal.

Now at this point, it’s worth asking the question, do we trust this source? I don’t actually know who posted this content, so I can’t verify their credentials. Perhaps this is yet another PR person’s tricky efforts to continually confuse us and keep us guessing? That seems unlikely since the entire purpose is to help lift the veil on all the other tricks. If you wanted the other tricks to be effective, you’d hardly be revealing them to your target audiences.

But even setting that very logical assumption aside, the reason I know with every fiber of my being that it’s true is that this is literally the only version of events that makes sense of absolutely everything.

All those mysterious and confusing signals, all those weird photos and changes in behavior, all the inconsistencies between what we all saw with our own eyes (they are IN LOVE) and what we saw subsequently with the adjacents, all the tiny Lukola crumbs keeping us hanging on, and all the fandom bickering, especially from bizarrely rabid jakolas.

Every bit of it makes complete sense if we accept that Nic, Luke, and their PR teams have been using a classic PR handbook to distract us from the very real truth that they are together and in love.

Does it hurt to know we’ve been manipulated? You bet it does! But I quickly accepted that because I was so happy to have the truth verified at last. And because I understand why they would do it.

Relationships are hard enough when lived in private. No relationship, no matter how much people love each other, is without challenge. Even soulmates have issues to navigate. Can you imagine the pressure on them if the whole world was watching?

And their lives have added challenges. Travel and separation. Long work schedules that may often be at odds. Possibly romantic scenes with future co-stars that could stir up uncomfortable feelings. Career ups and downs that may not always synch up. Fans and media watching their every move, dissecting them, judging them, rooting for them, and just putting massive pressure on them. What if they fail? They’re letting down the whole world, not just themselves.

And what about Nic’s longstanding demand for privacy? And her emphasis that no woman is just some dude’s girlfriend. She wants to be known for her own work and achievement and passions, not for who she dates or marries. Even if it is wonderful Luke.

Likewise, Luke is just now achieving a newfound level of success. This is a moment for him to seize and make the most of. Being a hot, sexy, ostensibly single guy is good for his brand right now. Even if we know he loves Nicola, his stans need to be able to fantasize about him, which is easier if his relationship is unconfirmed.

And let’s face it, if they come out as a couple, IT WILL BE LUKOLA all the time. That will be the story. Certainly if they’d come out during the World Tour, every question at every stop would be about them and their personal “friends to lovers story.” It would be irresistible to reporters. Too good a story to ignore. And they’d spend way more time talking about their personal lives than about their work. Does that sound like something either of them would want?

And one last thing. Back to their changes in behavior. Does it make more sense that Nicola, who has always been super private about her love life, would suddenly be willing to be photographed constantly with her new bf Jake? Or that Jake is not her bf and she’s keeping her actual bf (or fiancé or husband) secret?

Meanwhile, Luke, who has always been open about his relationships in the past suddenly decides to tighten up and share absolutely nothing about his private life? Well, that makes complete sense if he’s now in a relationship with a woman who is famously private and shares not one word publicly. Suddenly, literally everything makes sense and is entirely consistent.

So there it is, folks. To me, this is the Holy Grail. There’s not a doubt left in my mind about them. They’re together and everything else – literally everything else – is a decoy and a distraction, and every bit of it comes straight from the PR playbook.

I’d like to maintain a sliver of hope that they’re leaving much of it to their teams and they’re not in on the worst of it, but in any case, I don’t blame them one bit for trying to protect their love. It’s too special to let it be destroyed by public consumption. You gotta do what you gotta do.

Given that I don’t actually know them and haven’t confirmed anything directly, I’ll leave 1.5% room for doubt, and adjust my certainty to 98.5%.

And you may dismiss all of this and draw very different conclusions, which is okay, too. But if I’m being really honest, I’m actually 1,000% sure. And I couldn’t be happier for them.

What do we do now? That’s up to each of us. Personally, I’m going to be blissfully happy for them, not sweat any of the distractions, let them live as quietly as they like, and patiently await the day (whether it’s very soon or far in the future) when they finally go public. I hope you’ll do the same.

And until then, I’m going to keep watching Lukola videos on repeat.

[moonsandmobilityaids]

The Flu

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: You get the flu. But for someone with your immune system, the flu is never just the flu. Warnings: Flu, one tonic-clonic (grand mal) seizure Series Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

"Y/N, are you alright?" Sirius's voice cuts through the fog of your mind. You open your eyes to find him sitting on the end of your bed, concern etched into every line of his face.

His fingers brush against your forehead, and you flinch away from the unexpected contact. His touch is cool against your fevered skin, a stark contrast that sends shivers down your spine despite the warmth radiating off you in waves.

"You're burning up," he murmurs, pulling his hand away as if burned himself. "James, get her some water. And have you taken your meds?"

Before you can protest, James is already moving, filling a glass from the pitcher on your bedside table. He offers it to you with a soft smile, his hazel eyes full of worry as he finds your pill divider, handing you your morning meds. As you take your meds, you can't help but notice how attentive he is, watching for any sign of discomfort or pain.

Remus lingers in the background, silently observing as Sirius fusses over you and James refills your glass. His eyes are intent, taking in every detail of your flushed cheeks and laboured breathing. Right now, though, all you can focus on is the pounding in your head and the heat consuming your body.

"I'm fine," you insist, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. The room spins around you, and you fall back against the pillows with a groan. Despite your words, they don't leave. They hover close by, their presence a silent promise that they won't let anything happen to you.

The morning passes in a blur of sleep and half-awake moments where you drink more water and try to eat something at the insistence of your boys. Each time you wake, one of them is there, watching over you with worried expressions.

The afternoon light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over your sweat-slicked skin. You lie motionless under the heavy blankets, shivering despite the fever that has taken hold of your body. Your head throbs in time with your racing heart, each pulse sending waves of pain crashing against your skull.

Every muscle feels weighted down, as if you've been lifting weights for hours on end. But it's more than just physical exhaustion; there's a heaviness that seeps into your very bones, sapping away at your energy until all you can do is lay there and breathe.

Your thoughts are hazy, fragmented by the heat coursing through your veins. The room tilts around you, and you squeeze your eyes shut against the vertigo. It leaves you gasping for breath, clutching at the sheets as you fight off the urge to vomit.

But then, something changes. A coldness creeps up along your spine, replacing the fever's heat with an icy chill. Your heart beats faster, thudding loudly in your ears as your surroundings start to blur. Panic rises within you as it becomes harder to focus, harder to think.

You know what's coming. You've experienced these symptoms enough times to recognize the signs of an impending seizure.

"No," you whisper, the word barely audible as you press your hands to your temples. "Not now."

Images flash before your closed eyelids — falling, shaking, convulsing uncontrollably while those around you watch helplessly. You may not be aware when it happens, but you’ve seen the footage from when you were a kid. This time, it's not just Remus who will see you at your weakest. Now, James and Sirius will witness the truth of your condition too.

"Y/N?" James' voice floats towards you, tinged with concern. He must have sensed your sudden shift — the way your breathing hitched, the tension coiling around you like a tight spring ready to snap.

"Seizure... coming." The words are barely a whisper, but their impact is like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples of alarm through the room.

James' eyes widen with fear as he takes in your rigid posture and shallow breaths. Sirius rises to his feet, all traces of his earlier amusement gone. Replaced by an intensity that leaves no room for doubt—he will move mountains if it means keeping you safe.

Remus stiffens beside you, his face paling. He's seen this before—your body wracked with uncontrollable tremors, your mind lost in the terrifying abyss of a seizure. And every time, he's felt powerless, able only to watch and wait for it to pass. And the other two - you’ve only told them about it, about what to do.

Panic flutters at the edges of the room, threatening to consume the calm sanctuary. But there's no time for fear—not when every second brings you closer to the storm brewing within your body.

"Sirius," Remus's voice cuts through the tension, steady despite the gravity of the situation. He doesn't glance away from you, his eyes locked onto your form as if he could somehow will away the impending storm with sheer determination alone. "Keep track of the time. If it lasts longer than five minutes..."

Without missing a beat, Sirius nods, pulling out his watch and positioning himself at the side of your bed. His fingers tremble ever so slightly against the cool metal, betraying the adrenaline coursing beneath his composed exterior. "I've got this."

James remains nearby, hovering over you like an anxious shadow. His hand hovers inches from yours, caught between the desire to provide comfort and the fear of causing harm. The usually confident boy looks lost, unsure how to navigate the treacherous waters of helplessness.

Remus keeps his focus on you, monitoring each breath, each twitch of your muscles for any sign of what's to come. His expression is tight, lips pressed together in a thin line as he fights back his own fears. This isn't about him; right now, all that matters is keeping you safe.

The room is thick with anticipation, every heart pounding in sync with the ticking seconds. Yours, however, beats out a different rhythm — one that speaks of the tempest brewing within. And all anyone can do is wait for it to break.

"Any moment now," you whisper, more to yourself than anyone else. The world begins to warp and blur at the edges as your body tenses, instinctively bracing for impact.

And then it hits — a tidal wave of sensation that crashes over you, relentless and unforgiving. Your muscles seize up, locking into place as if held by an unseen force. Every nerve ending screams in protest, caught in the throes of an invisible storm.

"Sirius..." Remus' voice cuts through the chaos like a lifeline, grounding you amidst the turmoil. "Start now."

Without hesitation, Sirius counts out loud, his voice steady despite the tension etching lines across his face. He watches as each second ticks by, marking them not just on his watch, but also in the creases deepening around his eyes—each one a testament to his unwavering vigilance.

When the seizure finally subsides, your body feels like a battleground. Drained and weary, you lie there, muscles still trembling from the onslaught. The storm may have passed, but it's left wreckage in its wake—each breath an effort, each movement a reminder of the ordeal.

"Four minutes, six seconds," Sirius announces as Remus turns you onto your side, his voice tight with relief and something else—an undercurrent of worry that lingers even as he lowers his watch.

James moves then, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he reaches out to adjust the blanket around you. His touch is gentle, almost hesitant, as if afraid any further jostling might set off another wave of convulsions. It's a small act, but one that speaks volumes about the depth of his concern.

"Is she...?" James starts, unable to finish the question hanging heavy between them.

Remus leans forward, brushing your hair back. "She'll be okay."

James, Sirius, and Remus stay by your side, their presence a constant amidst the lingering echoes of fear. They sit in silence, each lost in their own thoughts yet bound together by the shared experience.

Their attention never wavers from you, taking in every shuddering breath, every flutter of your eyelids—a silent vigil maintained out of concern, yes, but also something more profound. It's an unspoken pact forged not just in friendship, but in the crucible of trials endured and battles fought—side by side, always.

"Could it... happen again?" James asks, breaking the stillness that has settled over the room. His voice is low, barely above a whisper, but it carries the weight of his worry nonetheless.

"We'll need to keep an eye on her," Remus replies, meeting James's gaze with a nod. "But for now, let's give Y/N some space." He turns to look at Sirius, who seems rooted to the spot, his expression unreadable in the dim light. "You should get some rest too. We'll take shifts watching over her."

Exhaustion tugs at your consciousness, pulling you further away from the world and towards the sweet oblivion of sleep. You welcome it, welcoming the respite it promises after the storm. But even as you drift off, there's a sense of relief that washes over you—not because the seizure is over, nor solely because the pain has subsided, but because they are here.

They're here, and for now, that's enough to quiet the fears clawing at the edges of your mind.

The boys exchange glances, their expressions serious despite the fatigue etching lines around their eyes. They understand the gravity of the situation—that much is clear—but there's also a determination there, a resolve that speaks volumes about their loyalty.

"Alright," James agrees, running a hand through his hair as he pushes himself up from the floor. "We'll do this together."

Sirius nods, standing as well. There's a heaviness to his movements, hinting at the toll the evening has taken. Yet, when he looks back at you, there's a steadiness in his gaze—an unwavering promise of protection.

As James and Sirius move towards the door, Remus stays behind, his focus fixed on you. He watches as your chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, each breath a testament to your resilience. The sight brings a small measure of peace, easing the knot of worry that's been tightening in his chest.

"It was expected," Remus says quietly, turning to face them. "With the flu... being any kind of sick is a trigger for her."

His words hang heavy in the air, bringing with them a sense of finality. This wasn't a random occurrence—it had been a ticking time bomb, waiting for the right moment to detonate. And though the explosion had been contained, the aftermath was far from over.

"But she'll recover," Remus continues, offering them a reassuring smile. "She's strong, and she's got us."

For a moment, neither James nor Sirius respond. They stand shoulder to shoulder, absorbing Remus's words and finding solace in their shared understanding. Then, almost simultaneously, they nod, a silent acknowledgement of the truth in what Remus has said.

They trust him—they trust his knowledge, his judgement, and perhaps most importantly, his reassurances. Because if there's one thing they've learned over the years, it's that Remus Lupin is rarely wrong when it comes to matters of health and healing.

As darkness settles outside, casting long shadows across the room, you slip into a fitful sleep. Your dreams are filled with flashes of memory—the sharp sting of fear, the crushing weight of helplessness—all tinged with an undercurrent of unease.

Yet, even within the depths of slumber, you sense the steadfast presence of those keeping watch over you. Their voices are distant whispers, woven together by threads of concern and care. They follow you into the dark, anchoring you with their constancy.

[kayharrisons]

It's getting dark, darling, too dark to see [Bjorn x afab!Reader] [part 1 of 2]

Your friends are dead. Their blood still soaks your hands, their screams fill the silence of the night. But Bjorn is there, through it all. Sole survivors Bjorn x fem!reader

Next Part

A/N: not me caving and writing Bjorn x Reader FJZKVMSKFKD I am in DEEP in this fandom my brain is rotting and I am SO fucking obsessed, so have this random ass lil fic I just wrote! Title of the fic from Thistle & Weeds by Mumford and Sons! This is gonna be some angsty shit so buckle in, it's gonna be a LOT and this is only the first part

Warnings for the series: general alien themes, MAJOR character death, blood, graphic depictions of violence, trauma, trauma bonding, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!), technical cousin incest (Kay/Bjorn), childbirth

The hauler is silent, save for the odd mechanical rumble or beeping from the cockpit.

Not even a few hours ago, you were all laughing here, dreaming of the future you would all have on Yvaga, the fact that you would all feel sunlight on your skin, breathe in fresh air.

Only two of you would.

Bjorn sits on the floor not far from you, cradling Kay's lifeless body. His eyes haven't left her face, her pale, grey face.

Kay was always smiling, always had a twinkle in her eye, a laugh in her throat. Kay had been too sweet for Jackson, Kay had been the exact kind of person who deserved to live a full and happy life on Yvaga, to bask in the sunshine that would never be quite as warm as her.

Kay was dead, now. Killed by the child she'd tried so hard to protect this entire journey.

You can't stop staring at her.

Her skin now void of colour, her eyes still open in horror, her lower half soaked in blood. If the creature hadn't killed her, then the blood loss would have.

The hauler cruises through the stars on autopilot. Rain had set the course for Yvaga and-

Rain.

You almost throw up.

You'd seen it, on the cameras. As Bjorn sobbed and pleaded with Kay to not leave him, as her blood soaked his clothes and her breathing stopped in his arms, you had seen the security footage of Rain dangling from the cable, that thing piercing the helmet she was wearing.

Then you had heard it, Rain managing to hit the audio button on her helmet, how she had screamed at you to close the hatch, to seal her and the creature out.

"Rain, you'll die-" you had shrieked, fingers panicky, hovering over the buttons with uncertainty.

"But the rest of you will live!" she had fired back, shrieking again as the creature continued to pierce the glass of her helmet. "[Y/N], please, PLEASE-"

You'd done it, collapsing to the floor unable to watch as the hatch closed, as it severed the cable Rain was attached to. Unable to watch your friend be sent to death by your hand.

You still sit on the cold metal floor, staring at Kay, at Bjorn, who's more quiet than you've ever seen him. His eyes are haunted, silent tears streaking down his cheeks, his chest heaving with every breath he takes, as if it pains him to do so.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out why.

He'd seen Navarro with a creature bursting free from her chest, seen her body twitch and twitch until it went oh so very still. Had seen his cousin stabbed through the chest, being dragged and flung around like a puppet before his blood had rained down upon you all from where the Xenomorph had taken him, his screams falling to choked whimpers that were more nauseating than the stabbing itself. Had seen Kay, sweet Kay, be impaled through her shoulder, had witnessed her taking th compound, giving birth in a spray of blood and gore to the creature that had stolen her life.

Her baby.

His baby.

It's not hard to realise who the "asshole" father of her child is, not when he's sobbing and clutching onto her corpse as if it alone will bring her back.

It should surprise you. But it doesn't.

They'd always been close, having met before Tyler's father had adopted her when she was 8.

They should have raised their baby together on Yvaga, a sweet young couple with their cute baby. You imagine it having Kay's curls, her warmth, Bjorn's eyes, his cheeky grin.

But no. There are no happy endings to be found here.

"Bjorn," you speak up, for the first time in hours. His eyes don't leave Kay. Your voice cracks. "Bjorn, you have to let her go."

"No."

It's said so simply, so matter of fact, as if he can't fathom such a thing.

"She's dead-"

"I fuckin' know," he snaps back, icy eyes meeting yours. "I know! She's-" a shaky exhale, more of a shudder than anything else, as he leans down, touching his forehead to Kay's, as he rocks her back and forth for a moment. "I know." he repeats, hoarse, almost childlike.

You fall silent again, giving him time to process, to grieve her, to grieve all of them.

He finally exhales sometime later, a sigh of anguish, as he presses a kiss to her forehead, as his lips linger on her skin for the last time. "I love you," you hear him murmur into the crown of her hair, he lets out a sob. "Alright? I love you. It's always, always been you."

And with that, he leans back, hands shakily unclasping her necklace and pocketing it.

His red rimmed eyes meet yours, and he nods firmly. You raise on shaky legs and move over to him, helping him gently move Kay to the floor.

"Rain's dead." you inform him, blandly, your stomach still churning with the horror of it all.

"Wondered where she'd fucked off to." he remarks as you stand side by side, your fingers brushing against one another's.

"Andy's dead too." you add, and he remains silent, jaw clenching. "Processors just... stopped, I think, after Rain..."

"His prime directive failed." Bjorn says, slowly, after a moment, eyes landing on Andy's still form in the corridor, the milky white of his blood having pooled down into the grates. "He shut down once he knew about Rain."

You scrub a hand down your bloody face (Tyler's, you think), and sigh.

What a fucking mess it all is.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

You both fall into silence once more.

Kay and Andy's bodies are gone. You'd wrapped them both in the blankets Kay had brought along with her, ones she'd hoped to use for the baby.

Bjorn had looked close to throwing up at the sight of them, and had promptly suggested using those in place of any other materials you may find useful.

The bodies had been wrapped in the blankets, soft, pretty things, so unlike the harshness of Jackson. Neither of you had said anything as you'd pressed the button to open the airlock, watching the bodies disappear into deep space.

You cling tight to each others hands, staring at the now closed airlock.

Tyler would say something heartfelt, something moving, would make you laugh through the pain of it all.

But Tyler is dead too.

You are all that remains, you and Bjorn.

"...the course is all set for Yvaga." You inform him, quietly, and he nods.

"Right."

"We should... probably start figuring out what to do."

"Right."

"Bjorn-" your voice cracking is what prompts him to finally look at you. "-don't. Don't do that. Don't disappear."

You wouldn't be able to bear it. Watching Bjorn-- Bjorn who was so full of life, always cracking a joke or a quip, always rolling his eyes and cheekily grinning, who always had something to say no matter what-- fade and fade into a shell of himself.

"Why shouldn't I?" he asks, oh so broken, so unlike the man he is. "Give me one good fuckin' reason-"

"I can't lose you too," you whisper, shattered, fingers tightening around his. "It's selfish, I know, but you're- I just can't lose someone else, okay?"

It sends him into silence again, his fingers tightening around yours to the point of near pain. You don't mind it. Keeps you grounded, reminds you that you're not alone. That, despite it all, despite the horrors you had faced, you're alive, and you're not alone.

"So, what do we do about these fuckin' cryopods, then? Could use a sleep after all that." he lets go, turning to face the pods, scratching at the stubble on his cheek.

You take one last look at the airlock before joining him.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

You argue over who goes in first. In the end, Bjorn wins, and it's purely because you recognise the tightness of his shoulders, the panic in his eyes.

He wanted you to go in first because of what had happened to Kay.

Logically, it's silly, and you both realise this. You're not pregnant, nor have you taken the compound. But the last time he'd watched someone go in...

You get it completely.

"You promise you'll get into a pod right away?" you ask, down to your tank top and underwear, your ruined clothes having been immediately shoved into the garbage shute.

"Got a few things to finish up, first." he says, down to his boxers and a fresh t-shirt, Kay's necklace now around his neck. "Gonna clean the place up a bit, so we don't wake up to..."

You nod, rubbing the back of your neck. "Don't do anything stupid while I'm out, okay?"

"Oh, fuckin' charmin' one you are, love," he bites back, rolling his eyes. "Bloke offers to clean the place and you imply he's thick or summit. S'why you're single."

You can't help but smile. You'd take the insults over the silence any day.

"Mean it though, Bjorn. You finish up with that, then you get right into a pod."

"Fuckin' christ, alright, mum."

You look at each other a moment, your hands teaching out and finding each others, all without taking your eyes off of one another.

"You ready?" he asks you, fingers clutching yours tight. His palm is clammy, his fingers calloused from working the mines from the age of sixteen.

"No." You say, quite honestly, leaning your head against your joined hands for a moment, your breath leaving you in disjointed bursts. Bjorn crouches by the pod, tipping his head forward to lean against yours, his other hand coming up to stroke theough your hair.

"You've gotta lay back, love," he murmurs, eyes shut tight and voice shaky. "C'mon, the next nine years are gonna be gone in the blink of an eye, and we're gonna get to Yvaga and..." he trails off, as the realisation that his plans haven't panned out the way he'd expected. He swallows, hard, pressing a kiss to your head. "We figure out how the fuck to live again, alright? Maybe get drunk, too."

You bark out a little laugh, letting go of his hand and laying back in your pod. "Could use some beer after all of this."

"I have fuckin' incredible ideas, don't I?" he grins, just a little, moving to the end of the pod.

You look at each other for a moment, before you nod. Bjorn presses a few buttons on the screen and with a hiss, your pod starts to close.

His solemn eyes are the last thing you see before sleep claims you.

[weareallstoriesintheend]

Caught (Matt Murdock x Reader)

Matt finds you ✨engrossed✨ in watching CCTV footage from Daredevils latest fight and he can't help but notice how much you like it.

Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, fingering, talk of violence

Commissions are now open on Etsy!

It wasn’t often that you googled Daredevil.

Last night Matt had been out longer than usual and he had kept all too quiet about it this morning so you decided it was time to change that.

You’d heard him sneak in through the bedroom window at around 4am, the slip of suit fabric from his skin was louder cause your ears pricked up to it in your half-asleep state. In the dark you imagined what each tap and bump was before he slipped under the covers beside you. You could picture him in your mind, kicking his heavy boots under the dresser and flicking the cumbersome suit over the back of the chair that sat against your oak vanity and placing his helmet next to your hairbrush on the side.

The dip of the mattress fully stirred you, the heat of another body joining you under the grey silk sheets.

You hoped he wasn’t aware you were awake but you turned over, sleepily nuzzling into his shoulder as he lay on his back. Your worry before bed had made your sleep restless so, as usual, you gravitated to him the second you knew he was safe. You chanced a peak and his eyes were unfocused towards the end of the bed but his chin was tilted down in your direction.

“You’re awake,” he whispered, eyebrows pulling down regretfully.

“How did you know?” your voice sounded groggy through the heaviness of sleep.

Matt smiled softly, kissing the top of your head, “Your breathing changed.”

“You scare me,” You joked before yawning, nestling yourself against his arm and closing your eyes once again.

---------

Come the morning he was not forthcoming with where he’d been, “I just went further than usual, didn’t realize and it took longer to get back is all.”

Matt tried to play it off with a joke in his tone as he fiddled with his tie, opening his mouth so you could slide a piece of buttered toast between his teeth.

“Matt, you didn’t answer me. Where did you go so late?”

He shrugged, picking up his jacket and grasping the slice of toast between two fingers, “Nowhere special,” he mumbled between chews and he headed out to the office. Your sigh of defeat was punctured by the slam of the door.

---------

After work, in a quiet apartment, you sat down on the bed, laptop perched on your crossed legs, as you set about googling him. It wasn’t something you liked to do, choosing to stay as far away from his double life as possible.

Immediately a new article popped up, posted 6 hours ago.

‘Daredevil is Suspect in Mass Brawl’

The first thing that popped up before the article even began was a video. Clearly CCTV footage from the grainy, black and white image.

For some reason the thought of watching this felt wrong, a part of him he didn’t want you to see. But you were suddenly, unexplainably curious.

Matt was sweet, complicated but sweet, so there was a part of you that couldn’t imagine that level of violence you’d heard Daredevil had been involved in.

You’d seen him do things before, on the news, prior to your knowledge it was him. But here, alone in your apartment, something deep within you encouraged you on to press play.

At first you flinched, listening to the guttural sound of pain and violence. When whoever had acquired the video edited it to zoom in you questioned yourself on how you’d never know Daredevil was Matt before he told you, the recognizable sharpness of his jaw and the baring of his teeth that you’d seen in very different circumstances.

The call back to more intimate times made a dangerous connection in your mind. A pathway formed as your eyes took in blow after blow of his fist. Heat pooled low in your stomach and your spine straightened.

Something about his ease to violence scared you but his clear ability to revel in his effortless capabilities made you shudder with pleasure. His body was so strong and lithe, he took blows as often has he landed them but they only seemed to spur him on.

The line of his back distracted you, bringing strong shoulders down to slender hips, and once again you wondered how you never knew.

You chewed your lip harshly, as you became entranced the video suddenly stopped. Without thinking you scrolled it back and allowed it to begin again.

----------

He was smiling before he even made it through the door, he wasn’t sure what he could hear but he had guesses, suspicions, of what you were up to within the private walls of your shared apartment.

Slowly he clicked open the lock, determined to remain undetectable to your busy ears.  

Toeing off his boots he pads in socked feet across the wooden floor towards the door to the bedroom. Carefully running his hand along it, he noticed it was open.

Dropping his shoulder against the frame he took in his own personal kind of view. The senses you kindled in him were tantalizing every time.

His tongue tingled like you were already flooding it, his nostrils flared at the sweet scent of perfume that floated off the nape of your neck as your hair dropped from your shoulder.

An almost silent, breathy, “Fuck,” left your lips and Matt bit his lip to keep from laughing. His hand dropped, rubbing just above his cock through his suit pants as if trying to deter the throb that pulsed through him. 

Your skin was hot and he knew just what that meant, he didn’t need to know you as well he did to know how you felt. The smell of you, drifting through his nose and igniting his taste buds, was enough to clue him on your intentions.

Matt heard as your chest rose faster, breath quickening, accompanied by the slick sound of your tongue licking out over your lips as you remained engrossed in the screen.

His nails dug into the wood of the doorframe to prevent himself from stepping into the room for a little longer. As soon as he moved, he knew you would pick up on his presence, he wanted to bathe in your indulgence a little longer.

The sounds of what you were watching caused flashbacks of his previous evening; the dawning smirk of recognition slid up his cheek. The smirk broke into a grin when he heard the sound your fingers hesitantly twitching against fabric, inching ever closer to sliding under the hem of your little lounge shorts he guessed, like your brain and fingers were in an unbeatable tussle of right and wrong.

Matt took you in in fascination as the video came to an obvious end and your fingers tapped away and it started over. He wondered to himself how long you’d been at this, how long you’d basically edged yourself watching him beat the shit out of a group of dumb thugs trying to rob a warehouse.

As much as he struggled to admit it, Matt knew he got off on the ease of his skills in these situations but he was surprised to discover so did you.

Matt heard the almost silent sound of moving fabric and he knew you were getting twitchy. He stepped forward just a little, the urge to play with you taking over.

---------

“Having fun?” Matt’s voice felt louder than intended as it broke through the quiet tension. You jumped, hands gripping your laptop to stop it falling from your lap.

Now your breath certainly was loud as the adrenaline pumped through your veins, it did nothing to still the stirring of Matts cock as the rush of blood around your body made the room flood with your scent. Your heartbeat thudded against his eardrums as he stepped away from the door.

“I didn’t know you… y-you’re home?” You stammered, clumsily tripping over your words as you tried to remain collected. Casually, keeping your eyes on him, you fumbled to close the laptop lid. The tap of it shutting cause the video to stop and suddenly the room was very silent.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek you tried to subdue your irritation at the smug look on his face.

“Are we really going to pretend that I don’t know what you were doing?”

You scoffed, “Watching the news? I don’t see why we need to pretend about that. Also… now I know where you went last night, why didn’t you tell me it was that bad?”

Matt laughed, arrogant and cocksure, “Oh no no no. We’re not going to do this right now, don’t even try it.”

You still pressed on, lacing your tone with worry, “You were in serious danger, Matt, that was a lot of…”

“…Shhhhh.”

Moving slowly, he let his knees hit the end of the bed, something about the roll of his shoulders and the way his body thrummed with pent up energy made you want to move back. Resting back on your hands you made to move yourself up the bed, edge yourself back from the weight of his presence but you didn’t get a chance.

Faster than lightening, his calloused fingers wrapped around your ankle holding you steady. You yelped, although upon reflection it sounded closer to an embarrassing whimper.

“We both know I can handle myself just fine,” he said, voice so low it rumbled in his chest.

Grabbing onto both of your ankles now he manhandled you, dragging you to him, the shock to your system made your body go limp and he was able to spin you half onto your front. Getting the idea, you helped him out with a huff of effort, shuffling so that you comfortably lay flat on your stomach.

Frozen in anticipation you stared at the sheets, wide-eyed. His labored breathing sent tickles up your spine when you heard it, the growl that hung heavy in his throat. His hands explored your calves, massaging and squeezing their way up.

“Maybe I should take you along some time,” he mused.

You swallowed harshly, “What do you mean?”

“If it gets you off so much,” he said plainly. You gasped, face flushing with embarrassment to hear him say it so matter of factly.

“I’d make sure you’re safe, out of harms reach but close enough to see me. Maybe you could slip your hand into your soaked panties and touch yourself for me. I would be able to smell the sweetness of this pretty pussy mixed with a bitter twinge of their blood.”

You’d lost the ability to control your breathing, your chest pushing down against the mattress making it hard to catch your breath. Matt chuckled, his hands sliding up your thighs to your ass, grabbing handfuls for a harsh squeeze.

He was in his own world you could tell, at this point he wasn’t thinking of your pleasure but his own. The exploration of your body was his fuel right now and you were a willing form of sustenance.

“Imagine that angel, you… touching yourself in public for me. That gorgeous wet sound reaching my ears to drown out their pathetic pleas for mercy.”

Gulping you asked, trying your luck, “What if they saw me?”

“I’d rip their spine out through their throat before they got the chance to take one step in your direction.”

You closed your eyes tight, as if trying to wake yourself from the possibility of imagining this, “Holy shit,” you breathed.

Suddenly his body weight pushed you down, he lay himself the length of you and propped himself up with hands either side of your shoulders. He nuzzled into your hair, pressing his lips to the curve of your ear.

“Oh, you like that huh?” Matt teased, despite his weight on top of you he pushed his hand underneath you. Wriggling it down between your legs he pushed and pulled with an intoxicating sense of urgency until his fingers slipper over the fabric of your panties. His fingers met with soaked cotton and he let out a shaky breath.

The cocky bite of a laugh he let out made you scrunch your eyes closed, “Hmmm yeah, you like that idea.”

The room felt like it was caving in with heat, the fabric of your clothes felt too close like you were suffocating in the best way. You wanted him, this moment, to drown you as you clawed at the sheets whilst his finger circled on your clit at an agonizingly slow pace.

They were purposeful yet lazy circles, his touch was so attuned to you that he no longer needed your input. Matt could just take you.

You arched your hips up into him, unable to move much under him. You whimpered at the feeling; a second finger brushed over your clit as he pushed his cock back against you. 

The sound of his whisper made the muscles in your lower stomach clench violently, “That’s ok angel, let me take care of you. Poor thing.”

Your breath shook as the air pressed from your lungs with another thrust of his hips and you choked on the last air you had as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder.

“Matty,” you gasped, whimpering at the rush of pain and pleasure that thudded through your core. His fingers sped up and your hips twitched as the sudden bolt of pleasure that climbed up your spine.

“Atta girl,” his voice sent vibrations along your skin, “That’s it.”

Matt was still pressing himself into you, uncaring that his hand was crushed beneath you. His body weight felt delicious on you, holding you grounded as your nerves lost their sense of reality, head swimming with the heat and the pressure. Your hips ground down hungrily seeking out more as he coaxed you on, “There you go, that’s my girl.”

You whined desperately, and he laughed, his teasing tone only fueling your spiral towards your climax, “Oh I know, I know.”

Your body shook violently, muscles tensing as you plunged over the edge. Matt’s fingers never relented as you squirmed your way through a harsh orgasm. Your loud cries made him grin, you could feel it as he rested against your shoulder blade, kissing your overheated skin.

His fingers left you, slowly, and your entire body felt like it was sinking through the mattress as your muscles released their tension. Your breathing rattled through your chest as you fought to steady it.

You heard the wet sound of him sucking his fingers by your ear, unable to respond as your body tried to come down from it’s high.

Once again, his lips were close and he whispered, “Now let’s hear more of what you were thinking about hmmm?” 

[robsheridan]

Nine Inch Nails' iconic Closer video premiered 30 years ago today! Some years back I edited together a half-hour making-of feature about the video with tons of never-before-seen footage and commentary by director Mark Romanek. It was for a planned DVD release of Nine Inch Nails' 1997 VHS Closure, which never ended up happening (officially...). However, you can still watch the full Closer feature right here, courtesy of NIN's Vimeo channel (which is full of rare treasures I put up there circa 2013 when I was still working with NIN).

See more from my 30th anniversary look back at The Downward Spiral.

Join my Patreon for more behind-the-scenes content

[fartlovingblkguy69]

The Little Men’s Toilet Slave Part 2

And with that he turned around and I got to see the most magnificent ass. It was big and round, muscular with a nice layer of fat and hairy as fuck! I’ve never seen an ass so hairy before! This is the type of ass that I ordinarily would have wanted to bury my face deep in and rim for hours but given what I knew was about to happen I wanted to throw up! This was made worse by the fact that when he bent over teasingly, I was assaulted by a smell akin to hot sewage mixed with garlic and there were stains and dingleberries all throughout his filthy forest of a crack. As he backed up to my face he reached back and further spread his cheeks allowing me to see his hole underneath a thick ring of fur and his hole opened and pushed out, releasing a nasty sbd before slamming his hole down on my nose. Fssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhh “Ah, I need to get rid of some more gas before I open the flood gates or else I’ll drown our new toilet bitch and then he’ll be no use to anyone! Let me see the footage we’ve shot so far while I relieve myself!” he said rubbing his aching, bloated stomach. He sat there farting away with his filthy hair hole sucking my nose in and constantly dripping a sample of the sludge that was about to fill my mouth into my nostrils. It was getting harder with each fart for him not shit all over me. I could tell, but he wanted to drag this out as long as possible and to be quite frank I was in no hurry to get to the main even myself. Finally after half an hour he slowly stood up and groaned “Open your mouth toilet! It’s time! I really can’t hold it anymore! If I smell or spill any of this I swear to God I’m gonna vomit all over your cute face and i don’t want that so after I make you swallow I’ll let Josh (the hot asf blond guy from earlier) and his boys stomp the fuck out of you! This can go easy or it can be extremely painful! Your choice!” He gently patted my stomach and started to sit back down. I reluctantly opened my mouth and watched in horror as before he was even seated his hole seemed to spasm and out pushed the biggest pile of slop I’ve ever seen! It was soft, lumpy shit, not quite liquid, but definitely nowhere near solid and it stunk like rotten eggs that had been left under the burning sun for days! It quickly filled my mouth and with much effort Kyle managed to pull his hairy hole shut. “Hurry up and swallow that! There’s so much more inside me and I will let it out all over your face if I have to! Don’t chew, just swallow! You can savor my shit another time! I’m in too much pain right now!” I struggled to swallow, my throat burning and closing, gagging and trying not explosively throw up the toxic waste that was in my mouth and nostrils and felt like it was penetrating every part of my being. He slapped my stomach and said “Round 2! Here it comes in 5 seconds and remember what happens if it doesn’t end up in your mouth!” I hurriedly swallowed and opened my mouth right as the next blast came bursting out. This continued for 6 mouthfuls over the course of the next 40 minutes with many wet farts in between each torrent of loose, sludgy shit. Finally he exclaimed “Damn that felt great to let out! I can’t believe how much better I feel! You can’t imagine how much pain I was in! Now lick me clean!” as I sat there and thought to myself, You were in pain? What about me you piece of shit! You narcissistic asshole! What the hell is wrong with you? But I knew better than to say any of that so I just lay there licking his entire crack clean in silence before moving to his disgusting hole. He smiled down at me and affectionately rubbed my very full, very bloated belly. “I think you deserve a reward for being such a good helper! I can’t wait to give it to you later! I think you’ll like it! In the meantime I gotta get back to filming! Anyone else need a bathroom break with the new toilet?” Of course there stood Josh with an evil smirk on his face. Here we go again! (To Be Continued)

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for lottie behind the cut; a pocketful of Kons. ( chrono || non-chrono )

“Uh,” Tim says, staring at the Batcomputer’s main monitor and trying not to look freaked out. “Is that . . . ?” 

Stud scowls at the monitor and the picture of the man wearing a red cape and . . . most of Superman’s face displayed on it. 

Well. Some of Superman’s face, anyway. 

“No one knows who he is,” Bruce says. “He appeared three hours ago in Metropolis claiming to be Superman.” 

“The costume doesn’t match,” Dick says, glancing at Stud. “And, you know, the cyborg parts definitely don’t match.” 

“Pockets reflect the self-image of their owners,” Bruce reminds him neutrally. “Assistive devices and prosthetics don’t always translate. Especially newer ones.” 

Red looks unimpressed. Dick grimaces a little. 

“I mean, if he is Superman, they would be pretty recent . . .” he says, then trails off with another grimace. 

“I guess,” Tim says, trying not to grimace himself. “But he doesn’t have Laney, does he?” 

“Or a Robin,” Dick puts in. 

“We don’t know when he last slept or if he might be concealing a Pocket somewhere,” Bruce says, looking back to the screen. “And either way, more minor incidents than being beaten to death have damaged Pockets’ connections to their origin points and soulmates.” 

Tim really, really hopes Stud came from Supergirl. Even if she accidentally dated Lex Luthor for a while or whatever. That is just way, way preferable a thing to deal with right now. He doesn’t know who this cyborg version of Superman is, but the guy gives him the creeps. Like–just something about him looks wrong. 

Maybe he’s just being an asshole with unconscious biases and it’s all the prosthetics and machinery throwing him off, he half-hopes. It might just be that. He could get over that. Adjust. Work on himself a little and figure it out. 

He’s never felt unsettled like this looking at Cyborg, though, and he’s seen him plenty of times. He and Dick work together all the time. 

So it’s kind of hard to blame the prosthetics and machinery, considering. 

“Okay, fair,” Dick allows, wincing a little. “You really think he could hide a Pocket, though? It’s not like you can get that far from them.” 

“He has at least two limbs that are fully or almost fully prosthetic and half his torso and head are metal, and we have no idea what’s actually contained in any of those parts,” Tim points out, scanning the accompanying footage on the opposite side of the screen of the man in action. “He could hide a Pocket in a compartment built into his body no problem. Especially, uh–a smaller one.” 

Superman never hid Laney before, just dressed her up in a simple little costume of her own, but if this is Superman . . . well, dying can change a lot of things. 

But if Lois Lane hasn’t reported Smallville returning to the Justice League . . . 

Then again, they don’t know when she last slept either. Pockets only turn up when their owners sleep, one way or the other, and all of human history hasn’t managed to catch one appearing. Cameras short out or blip or just don’t record anything, witnesses get distracted or drift off, and nothing ever gets figured out. 

And a Pocket his size would be . . . well. Not that hard to conceal, probably. 

Tim can’t imagine a Pocket of himself wouldn’t understand that request, if whoever this is or isn’t made it of him. He’s very intimately familiar with the need for secrets. 

If this is his soulmate, though . . . 

He really doesn’t know what to think of that idea. 

“Two-day go-bags,” Bruce orders shortly, never taking his eyes off the footage on the screen. “Reconvene in twenty.” 

Tim glances at Dick; Dick glances back at him. 

“On it,” they both say, and take off. 

Neither bothers asking where they’re going. 

Stud flies after Tim, grumbling to himself in Pocket-talk, but Tim knows as much about what he’s saying as he does about where they’re all about to end up. 

.

.

.

Cassie stares down at her phone in confusion, and Cas peers at the screen from his seat on her shoulder. There’s a jerky, erratically-filmed livestream playing on it on her Twitter feed, and that’s . . . Superman? 

There’s footage of Superman on Twitter, she means. Live footage. He looks a little different–there’s black in his costume, and his hair is short and slicked back, and he’s wearing a visor–but he’s definitely Superman, big red cape and all. 

At least–she thinks he is. 

His face is kind of . . . 

There’s something . . . empty in his face. 

Cassie resists the weird urge to hide Cas from the sight of him, because–well, that’s him, isn’t it? That’s who he came from. The costume doesn’t exactly match, but it’s got black in it too, and they’ve both got the S-shield and cape. And . . . 

Well. It has to be him, doesn’t it? 

Who else could it be? 

The comments are all losing their minds about the footage, and Cassie feels uneasy watching it. The look on Superman’s face is just . . . it’s just really . . . 

She knew Superman was coming back, obviously. She’s got Cas, after all, so it’s not like it’s a surprise to see him. The only surprising thing is that Cas showed up before he did. 

So she doesn’t know why she feels . . . off, kind of, seeing Superman alive and well. She’d expect to be nervous or anxious, maybe, but not . . . 

She’s unsettled, she thinks. It’s–unsettled. 

Yeah. 

That’s . . . weird. 

Superman darts out of the camera’s view in a blur of speed, and Cassie hears something explode in the distance. Whoever’s recording shrieks, and so do a few people around them. 

Cas leans further over her shoulder with a frown. 

“Cassie?” a voice calls from downstairs, and Cassie instinctively bristles and tightens her grip on her phone. It’s her mom. “Diana’s back!” 

. . . fine. That’s–whatever. 

Fine.

[invis-o-william]

Day 2: Wish

All Amity Parkers knew that “wish” was practically a forbidden word. Years of interactions with Desiree had all but guaranteed that. Younger children weren’t even taught the word anymore out of an abundance of caution, after all nobody wanted a repeat of the “Toddler Wish-mageddon” that had occurred just a year prior. The firemen had been cleaning chocolate syrup out of the streets for weeks afterwards. This left the naive and unassuming newcomers as targets for Desire’s power, many of whom didn’t quite believe the city moniker of “The Most Haunted Place on Earth” yet. One of those newcomers was Thomas Kincade, and one way or another he too would learn the consequences of the word “wish”.

. . .

Thomas had barely lived in Amity Park a week before his coworkers started messing with him. He had just been sitting down in the breakroom for lunch when Craig from accounting had sidled up in the next chair.

“Oh hey Tom,you’re new to town, right?” he asked while grabbing a bowl from his bag.

Thomas hummed an affirmative while digging through the box chock full of leftover lo mein that his wife had left him that morning. “Yeah, just moved from Springfield like a week and a half ago, why? Also, it's Thomas.”

Craig pointed a fork his way, “Well you should probably invest in a lunch bag or something. That box is a prime target for the Box Ghost you know. He’s usually pretty harmless, but he’ll definitely steal that thing in a heartbeat if he sees you with it man.” He accentuated his point by tapping on said box with his fork.

Thomas sighed. Although he’d only lived in the city for under two weeks, he’d already seen more than enough of the “ghost tourist trap” schtick. “You can give the “ghost” thing a rest Craig, I think I’ll be fine.” he said with a roll of his eyes.

Craig shrugged, “Alright Tommy, don’t say I didn’t warn you. You transplants never quite believe it at first anyway.”

“It’s Thomas.” Thomas said pointedly. Craig made a noncommittal noise before digging into his meal.

. . .

The next day it happened again. Thomas was working at his computer when his deskmate Maria leaned over the divider.

“Hey Tim, did you see the news this morning?” she asked excitedly.

Slightly irritated, Thomas looked up. “No, I didn’t. And it’s Thomas.”

Maria didn’t seem to hear him as she waved her hands around, “They got some footage of the fight between Phantom and that big metal ghost last night on the corner of Park Place and Amity Row! It looked so intense, and the big ghost is so cool looking!” She practically squealed the last words.

Thomas groaned and let his head fall back. “Look, I get it, you guys are pulling my leg, ‘ha-ha lets haze the newbie’ kind of stuff, but its getting old.”

Huffing, Maria crossed her arms. “How long have you been here now? Two weeks? You can’t tell me that you haven’t seen one of the ghosts yet! Hell, blob ghosts are so common I’m surprised one hasn’t popped into your yard yet” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Just hope you don’t encounter any big ones, you definitely don’t want to run into the Fenton’s with their tank-on-wheels.”

With a sigh and a shake of his head Thomas turned back to his work as Maria shrugged and did the same.

. . .

Thomas was getting fed up. Everyone kept talking about ghosts. “Phantom’s been seen here” and “The whisps have been really active lately” and all that crap. How long was everyone going to pull this? Not to mention that nobody wanted to call him anything but nicknames. Why was calling him Thomas so hard for them???

The last straw was his boss stopping by his desk an hour before quitting time.

“Hey Timbo, everyone on the floor is going to head over to the Mitty Boulevard Bistro after work for dinner, company’s treat. Want to join?” he said, leaning an arm on the desk divider.

Thomas’ eye twitched. “Yeah, sure that’s fine. And please. It’s Thomas.”

His boss smiled, “Great! Originally we were going to head over to the Mexican place on Park Place, but they’re closed for cleanup from that ghost fight last night.”

“Yeah! You can thank Phantom for that, honestly the Bistro is sooo good. I like Mexican food and all, but you gotta try the Bistro’s fries Tim!” Maria said, perking up from her seat.

Thomas had had it. “Ghosts this, ghosts that! I’m so sick of this! Just give it a rest already! And my name. Is. THOMAS. Not Tim, not Tommy, just Thomas!” he cried as he picked up his coat and lunch box. “If this is how all of you are going to treat me, then count me out of the dinner. Honestly I wish you guys would just cut it out already!”

Everyone in the office went deadly silent and stared at Thomas with wide eyes.

“Thomas,” began Maria, “you shouldn’t say that word. I’m sorry that we were teasing you so much about your name, but you really shouldn’t say that word.”

Thomas scoffed, “What word?”

Everyone looked around nervously, “The “w” word,” his boss said, “there’s a ghost who grants them, usually in the worst ways possible.”

Thomas threw his hands up in the air. “What, wish? Now you’re telling me that there’s a wish-granting ghost? If there was, I'd wish she’d make you all see sense right now because ghosts aren’t real!”

The office was deadly still and many held their breath. There was always a chance Desiree wasn’t around, but some still expected her to appear and grant the wish.

Instead the Box Ghost popped in out of nowhere, grabbed Thomas’ lunch box, shouted “BEWARE!”, and vanished.

Thomas could say he knew better now to pack his lunch in a bag.

[glaciertea]

Masterlist here~

Tales the Songs Weave

>>Ch.2

Summary: Miguel O'Hara is a leader. A leader who doesn't let anyone or anything distract him from the tasks at hand.

He's focused, unwavering, and ruthless.

But what happens when he abruptly pulls away from his territory and wanders into an unknown playing field he hasn't faced in forever?

Many say love holds no bounds, but how much will he be willing to break for you?

Word count: 1.5K

Chapter 1: You're A Natural, Living it so Cutthroat

My name is Miguel O'Hara.

I'm this dimension’s one and only 

Spider-Man… at least I thought I was… 

but I'm not like the others. 

“...el.”

I do things that others won't be able to do.

“...uel!” 

I've seen things that others will never see.

“...iguel!”

And I've given up too much to stop now…

“MIGUEL!”

A familiar voice sprung him out of his inner reflections as he snarled, snapping his head back at the figure below.

Jess crossed her arms over her growing pregnant stomach, glaring at her brooding boss. Her neck slightly craned, wondering why his platform must be at the highest point instead of closer to any subordinate that has the pleasure of communicating with him. 

“I'm here to give the reports for today's anomalies that were captured.”

Miguel twisted his body towards his dozens of monitors cascading, entrapped all over. A grunt escaped his throat as his eyes darted from screen to screen, typing away at whatever was tossed onto him. 

His second in command sneered, rolling her eyes at the permanently irritated man. 

Though it gets to a point where one is used to his tendencies. This is just who he is. The burden that copious amounts of spiders have to compromise with.

“Also, there's been a recent increase in anomalies as of late. Rampant even. We were wondering if we could get any input on that.” Jess clicked at her watch, sending the information to her ill-tempered leader, wanting to get this over with as much as him.

“Later.” Miguel refused to gaze behind him.

“Actually, I would prefer now so we can get a semi-head start on th-”

“I said later!” Miguel barked, going over the notes he received.

Jess scoffed, resting her hands on her hips. She wasn't going to allow him to speak to her in any sort of way. Jess is one of the few with the ability to pierce through Miguel's ‘bullshit.’

“As I said, I'm going to need that info ASAP. Presumably after you're done with those documents. Thank you.” She drolly spoke.

Before Miguel could offer a rebuttal, Jess was already making her exit out of his space, refusing to deal with him anymore for the time being. The man twitched as his claws dug through his metal desk. There's never any rest for the wicked, yet this is the life he must heed. The precedents he exposed to himself and those underneath his wing. 

He doesn't enjoy this harrowing cold stature, but it's the only manner that will get things done. 

He inhabited the lifestyle he was forced to construct. Harboring all the burdens so the others won't make the same mistakes he committed. The sins that constantly dangle over his head every single second, of every minute, of every day.

That perpetual reminder of what and who he is. 

Miguel lingered at his workstation for another hour and a half, as he found unhealthy comfort being close by it. If he never unoccupied his space, work will always be completed in functioning order. He begrudgingly issued data and charts towards Jessica, mostly as an excuse for her not to return and harass him any further. 

His tasks were going smoothly. No interruptions, no trivial disturbances from the other heroes. All was fluid sailing on his end. 

And that was very off-putting for him, but he decided to brush it off.

Ten minutes passed by as Miguel decided to view the footage of him and Gabi, the main reason why any of this exists in the first place. His main reminder to abide by is to focus on the main goal at hand. 

Keeping the multiverse safe. 

A miniscule smile began to form as the video rewinded and began to play… until the orange iridescent screens dimmed off. Silence rang throughout his area. Then a shattering crash of glass sprinkling surrounded the air.

“Lyla!”

The tiny hologram teleported in the air, casually waving her fingers as if she hadn't witnessed her creator violently hurl a computer at the wall. 

“Heya boss, what's the fi- hey, hey whoa!” Miguel's claws went to snag Lyla as she rapidly flickered several feet away from him.

“Isn't that a bit unnece-”

“¡¿Qué carajo pasó?!” He rammed his fist down onto the heavily abused desk.

“Uh, did you forget? Undergoing system maintenance today.” The A.I. brought up a digital calendar with a date circled in pink glitter marker and heart stickers surrounding it. 

Only a scowl etched across his already disdainful face. This wasn't helping Lyla's case at all. Lyla tapped her nail on the date, only increasing Miguel's fury. 

“The twelfth? Which is today?” She gestured toward the number.

His expression didn't waver. He should have been one of the first to be alerted about this. 

“Why wasn't I advised?!” Miguel hissed enough for spittle to fly out. 

Work needed to be done. Required. He doesn't have time for any delays; he must be the one to upkeep the endeavor of the headquarters. The multiverse. Everything. 

Lyla shifted her glasses near the bridge of her nose, raising a brow. “You were. In fact, you were the very first to attain that scheduling because you appointed the date, Miguel.”

He made an effort to recall, but the more he dug, the memories refused to pop up. Prepared to refute and prone Lyla for her attempts to gaslight him, she came equipped with several angles of Miguel hunched over, deep within some tasks as usual. 

The displayed date in the top left corner was a week prior, as a cautious Spider-Byte scrolled up to the high-rise platform. The teen announced her presence, only to be greeted with completely nothing. Spider-Byte clearly struggled to flag down his attention until a jeering ‘what’ sprang out of him. 

"We're still on for the system shutdown on the twelfth, correct?” 

Hushed. Nothing. 

“Yo, are we still on for the-”

Miguel hollered out for Lyla to jot down the time frame for it as the assistant saluted and disappeared.

Miguel dismissed an agitated Spider-Byte who threw her arms up, murmuring underneath her breath as she vacated the area, clearly refusing to deal with him any longer.

Lyla blipped the feed away and leaned back, crossing her legs as if she were pretending to be seated in a chair.

“So, you have the rest of tonight unofficially officially off just like the others. So… have fun!” Lyla retreated, abandoning him in solitude. 

That made sense as to why Miguel wasn't disturbed for the last duration of his work period. No one was essentially able to commute to the HQ. He remained static for a few minutes. The solemn, stagnant atmosphere was the only element left. There was an occasional whirring of a machine, but there was nothing else.

This isn't something to get used to. Something he wasn't used to.

He slumped himself on the metallic flooring, desolate. When duties aren't demanded, he doesn't exactly know how to handle the implanted turmoil racing deep in his mind. 

He pulled his watch near his face as it only presented his world, the time, and a missed alarm flashing. He pressed the tiny button as a message flashed, warning about the upcoming stoppage. Nearly thirty minutes ago.

Dropping his arm, he observed the bleak, dark-red area. His isolation chamber he relished in a sense. Second nature. But there was a commodity brewing within. A path beckoning him to stray away from his natural setting into an unaccustomed world. 

Gradually, he stood up before dropping off the edge and landing with a solid thunk.

He pressed through the wide corridor that led into his ‘office,’ past the contained anomalies, who thankfully are under a backup program, so they couldn't escape with ease. Stepping into the elevator, he tapped the down arrow, leaning back against the cool glass. 

Was he truly going to do this?

He trudged out until he reached the usual bustling facility, now still with a couple of spider stragglers reserved in their own bubble or quickly converging with one another before moving on with their business.

Some blissfully greeted him as Miguel nodded in acknowledgment when he passed by. Some curious ones eyeballed him, astonished to view him casually teetering around, but chalked it up due to the seemingly night off all the spiders “dolefully” received (many honestly are grateful; relieved for it).

However, numerous heads did rotate dumbfounded when Miguel… treaded out of the establishment with no warning or announcement. 

Clearly, this was one for the books.

Miguel allowed the chill breeze to graze across his face and curly locks as he compelled himself towards a direction. 

Where exactly was his destination?

Usually he appoints on having everything to the point, narrow, clear, and straight cut. But now? He's aimlessly roaming Nueva York's evidently pristine streets, allowing his legs to carry him to an unprecedented location.

He was out of bounds with the routine. Highly so. There undoubtedly had to be a reason for this particular circumstance for him willingly abandoning his homebound post.

• • •

For the puzzled ones, there's a meaning behind a reason. An answer to a question. A cause pursuing the effect, and Miguel surely didn't expect any of it. 

Even the most natural of ones can slip into the most foreign of fates.

[spideybatsy]

A+B | Chapter Eight

Summary: GN!reader is falling in love with Bruce Wayne, even if they won’t admit it. Everything takes a turn for the worse when Bruce’s biggest secret comes to light.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader

WC: 2.9K

Warnings: being held hostage, mentions of mental and physical abuse (not described), blood, implied smut

Notes: Can be read as any batsy you’d like, I personally picture Bale bc I’m a slut for him <3

Masterlist

Bruce’s goodbyes took longer than expected and he ends up coming into the hallway to find Alfred already snooping around. Alfred’s relief at seeing Bruce is short-lived because he quickly starts searching again.

“What’s wrong?” Bruce has never seen him so concerned and is immediately on high alert.

The older man says my name while opening a corridor door. “They started coughing while on the telephone. A man said something and then the line went dead.”

Bruce’s heart plummets into his stomach and he quickly joins the search. Together, they go through every room in the hallway before something stops Alfred in his tracks. He calls Bruce over, who collapses at the scene.

There, folded neatly on the floor, are both our jackets. Lying on top is the necklace he’d just gifted me, the clasp broken as if it had been ripped off my neck.

--

It was well into the early hours of the morning that Alfred rushed down to the Batcave, demanding Bruce turn on the news. He tuned in at just the right time.

“Some viewers may find this footage disturbing, caution is advised,” the presenter said.

His already broken heart shatters as he spots my figure in the bottom corner of the video, rocking back and forth. Seemingly without any reason, I let out a blood-curdling scream. The camera angle changes to a close-up of my face. Fresh tears stream down my already tear-stained cheeks, and my entire body is shaking as my eyes dart around the room. My hand rubs at my nose, my fingernails are cracked with dried blood staining my fingers.

My eyes catch on something, and I start chanting one word over and over. Scarecrow. I begin violently screaming, trying to scramble further into the corner when the video cuts off.

“The man who calls himself Scarecrow sent this to Gotham Police with a typed letter demanding the presence of Bruce Wayne and Batman.” The presenter appears back on the screen. “Upon seeing both, he’ll return his hostage.”

--

When I wake up, I’m horrified to find the masked man standing over me.

“Don’t be scared,” his voice doesn’t sound as warped as it did before. “The toxin should be out of your system by now.”

“W-What do you want?” my voice is scratchy from all the screaming.

I flinch as he snaps his fingers, another man runs into the room and puts a tray in front of me. He’s gone before I can note any of his features.

“Eat up,” the masked man says.

I look down at the tray. It’s full of chocolate-covered strawberries.

“I-I’m not hungry.” I start wiggling away from the tray.

The man sighs, leaning down and taking a strawberry.

“They’re not going to hurt you.” He rolls it between his thumb and forefinger before lifting his mask to take a bite. I try to get a better look at his face, but he only exposes his mouth before pulling it back down. He then squats, so he’s closer to my eye level.

He points the half-eaten berry at me, and it takes me a moment to realise he’s holding it out for me to eat. He must see the hesitation on my face because he places it back on the tray and holds another one out to me.

“If you eat this, we’ll talk.” His words bring back memories of Bruce, who always wanted me to eat up before having a hard conversation.

Poor Bruce, he must be so worried. He’s always held himself responsible for my safety and now that I’m missing, I know he’s beating himself up. Maybe if I talk to this Scarecrow, he’ll reveal personal information that Bruce can use to catch him after he brings me home.

I shakily reach out and take the strawberry, nibbling at the tip. Scarecrow waits patiently while I eat, it takes about 15 minutes to finish. He doesn’t reach for another berry, so I take it as a sign to start talking.

“What do you want from me?” I cough as soon as I finish, and panic starts swelling through me. Did he put more of that stuff in the food?

“You’re coughing because your throat is in a horrid condition.” I find it unnerving that he can so easily read me. “And I don’t want anything from you, I’m merely testing a theory.”  

He hands me another strawberry but I’m not sure I can stomach it, so I just hold it in my hand.

“What theory?”

“A few months ago, one of my subordinates overheard a very stranger conversation between you and the Batman.” I rarely talk to suited-up Bruce in public. “Now he claims that The Prince of Gotham and Batman are the same person.”

I do what comes to me naturally and play it off. “A bit far-fetched, don’t you think?”

Jonathan seems entertained at my response. “That’s what I thought, too. Then, a few months pass and suddenly you’re attached to Mr Wayne’s side. Which made me think maybe there was some truth to this preposterous claim.”

“Why take me then?”

“It’s quite simple, really. I have you here, torture you a little and demand both Batsy and Bruce show up to get you. If they both come, I’ll know the theory is false. If there’s only one…”

I can’t stop the way my heart starts ramming against my ribcage. They can’t both show up. Scarecrow has him cornered.

“Batman doesn’t like rich people, what makes you think he’ll come for me?”

“You’re not rich.” Although I can’t see his face, I know he’s smirking. “Otherwise, you’d be a psychologist by now.”

How long has this man been spying on me? Invading my privacy? Perhaps it’s true what they say, you’re never truly safe.

He stands back up and heads for the door. With his hand resting on the handle, he looks back at me.

“They have four hours, then we’ll have to pump you with more toxin to take another video.”

“Don’t do that, please. I’m begging.”

He ignores my pleas and walks out, locking the door behind him.

--

I don’t know how long I sit in the room. It could’ve been 10 minutes, could’ve been 10 hours. At one point I swear smoke is bleeding from the vents but when I look back, there’s nothing. The overhead lights flicker and for a while, I’m in complete darkness.  My eyes adjust just in time for the room to illuminate again.

The dehydration gets to me and by the time the door opens again, my head is pounding. Someone hisses my name and then the masked man enters.

“You have a visitor.” He gestures behind him, and two goons drag in a slumped figure.

He’s so covered in blood that I don’t recognise him at first, but as soon as they throw him face-first into the concrete, I’m crawling over.

“Bruce,” I struggle to get him on his back. “Bruce, can you hear me?”

The door slams shut, leaving us alone. His right eye is swollen to the point of closure and a combination of fresh and dried blood paints his face. Still, his lips tilt up when he looks at me.

My tears are immediate, sliding down my cheeks and onto Bruce. My hands shake as I reach and wipe them from his face. His hand reaches up and slowly takes mine, intertwining our fingers.

“Are you okay?” His voice is rougher than usual.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I squeeze his hand.

His smile is a light in the darkness.

I slip my hand out of his grasp and he groans as I pull him up to lay his head on my lap. He shifts, then seemingly finds a comfortable position as he sighs and relaxes.

“How long have I been here?” I bring my hands to his hair, lightly scratching his scalp.

“12 hours,” he diverts his eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner.”

I use my grip on his hair to tilt his head back. His eyes are glassy, full of unshed tears.

“You came as soon as you could,” I whisper. “That’s all that matters.”

He nods but I know he doesn’t believe me. It’ll take a long time for him to admit this isn’t his fault. Even longer to forgive himself.

We stay like that until I drift off, feeling safe now that Bruce is with me. I don’t know what we’ll do next. If Bruce will break us out or if we wait for the police to come. But he’s here and I know he’ll protect me. No matter the cost.

--

I awake to the sounds of gunfire, immediately thrashing against my restraints.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” It’s only after this sentence is repeated a few times that I finally calm down.

The gunfire seems to be coming from outside, but the room is in complete darkness. Strong arms are wrapped around my waist and I’m sitting in Bruce’s lap, his head resting on my shoulder.

“What’s happening?” I find Bruce’s hand in the dark and entwine our fingers.  

“We’re being rescued,” his voice vibrates through my back.

“By the police?”

“I don’t think so.” He squeezes me tighter against him.

I open my mouth to respond when I’m blinded by the light. I blink a few times and as my eyes adjust, I see the silhouette of a caped crusader in the doorway. It’s Batman.

I find myself sinking further into Bruce’s grip, confusion spreading through my veins. If that’s Bruce, who is holding me? Or more likely, if Bruce is holding me, who is that?

“It’s okay,” Bruce whispers into my ear. He starts to stand up, bringing me with him. “I promise.”

He goes to set me on my feet, but my legs give way. I stumble forward and Batman catches me before Bruce has the chance to.

“I’ve got you,” his voice isn’t as deep as Bruce’s. I look up at his eyes, shocked to find them blue. They’re not as deep as Dr Crane’s, which is strangely relieving.

Bruce limps over, “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Can you walk?” The imposter Batman asks.

“I-I don’t think so,” I admit, wincing as soon as I put any weight on my right leg.

“Is anything broken?” Bruce asks, looking at ‘Batman’.

Batsy’s eyes scan over my body, his eyes squinted in concentration.

“No,” he says. “It seems like the toxin has loosened their muscles. Everything should be back to normal after a few days.”

“Thank you.” Bruce lets out a breath of relief.

He wraps his arms around me and with a grunt, cradles me to his chest.

“Bruce,” Batman places his hand on his shoulder. “You’re injured.”

“I can do it.”

“You’re hurt.” I place my hand on his other shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Please, let Batman,” I look sceptically at the man, “take me.”

I can see the hesitance on Bruce’s face, his eyes are glassy when he finally nods. The masked vigilante quickly takes me into his arms, holding me bridal style.

“I’ll be back in a second to get you,” he says to Bruce.

“Okay,” Bruce leans over and kisses my forehead. “Be careful.”

“Of course,” Batman speaks with sincerity.

He turns around and heads for the door, only stopping when Bruce yells across the room.

“Remember, there are cameras.”

Batman mutters an ‘of course’ under his breath and I felt a jolt run through me. Almost as if he had jumped and hit the earth again.

The stranger runs out of the room and down the hallway. I can’t help the tears that run down my face, anxiety for Bruce curling through me. He’s always been such a stubborn man, which has caused so many issues. He must be in so much pain to suddenly accept the help of this stranger.

“Bruce is okay.” The stranger says, “he’s just worried about you.”

“How do you know?” My voice is muffled as I push my face further into his chest, failing to hide my tears.

“I just do.”

I know he’s left the building when I feel the wind whipping at my hair. I lean away from him and take a deep breath, grateful for the fresh air. The stranger smoothly sits me on the grass before looking back at the building.

“I’ll be right back.” Before I can say anything, he’s gone.

Taking a moment, I look around. The sun is high in the sky, making me think it’s around midday. Based on what Bruce told me, I guess that I’ve been in that room for about 36 hours.

The grass is green and soft under my fingertips, and I run my hands through it, grounding myself. I’m sitting on a hill, overlooking the city of Gotham. My eyebrows furrow when I notice the barbed wire fence, trapping me with the building. Turning, I catch sight of the Arkham Asylum sign.

What on earth am I doing here? Does Dr Crane know that a criminal is keeping hostages in his asylum?

Questions are still running through my head when Batman walks outside, supporting a limping Bruce. I struggle to stand up and by the time I’ve got my footing, they’re right in front of me.

“Bruce,” I make toddler-like grabby hands at him, and he instantly hobbles to my side, taking me into his arms.

“Forgive me.”

Before I have time to ask what he’s talking about, lights start flashing behind me. It’s far enough away that I know it must come from behind the fence.

“What are they doing here?” I murmur, pressing my nose into the crook of his shoulder and neck, closing my eyes.

His hand rubs soothing circles on my back, “we need to make the idea of Bruce and Batman being the same person impossible.”

I hum into his neck; I understand why they’re here, but I still don’t want to look at them.

“The police are going to show up any second,” Bruce whispers in my ear. Like clockwork, I can hear sirens in the distance. “Are you okay to talk to them?”

I nod into his neck, refusing to open my eyes. “Just don’t leave me.”

“Never.”

--

It’s night by the time we get back to the manor. After the police arrived, they ushered us past the press and straight to the hospital. I had to almost beg for Bruce to be checked, as his stubbornness reared its head again. Once we’d been cleared, we were taken back to the station for statements. While it had been painful to relive, Bruce was by my side the entire time. His hand never left mine.

Batman had vanished into the night the second the police arrived, having had whispered something into Bruce’s ear.

We are approaching the steps to the house when the door opens, and Alfred basically flies out. Before I could get out a word, he pulled me into a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” his tone is one I’d never heard before.

I wrap my arm around him and squeeze him tight, my other hand still holding Bruce’s.

Alfred ushered us inside, where a man is sitting on the couch. He stands up and walks over, shaking hands with Bruce.

“I’m so glad to see you’re okay,” he says, turning to me.

“Thank you,” I can’t help but move closer to Bruce, causing him to wrap his arm around my waist.

“A, this is Clark.” Bruce gestures to the man, “Our stand in Batman.”

I can’t help the blush that runs from my neck to my cheeks.

“O-Of course, it’s lovely to meet you.” I reach out and shake his hand.  “Sorry, I’m very tired.”

I can feel Bruce’s eyes piercing my skin, his hand squeezing my waist.

“It’s okay,” Clark smiles. “I better head back to Metropolis, I just wanted to check you were both okay.”

Bruce grabs his shoulder. “I owe you one.”

Clark smiles, “No, you don’t.”

--

I trace Bruce’s scars with my fingertip, amazed at their number. You’d never expect a billionaire to have a bruise, never mind various welts of scar tissue. He shivers as I run over a sensitive spot, nudging his face further into the crook of my neck.

“What are you doing?” his voice is muffled, but I still hear him clearly.

“Memorising you,” I whisper.

He pulls his head back and leans his cheek against my own. “Why?”

“Why not?” I run my finger over his sensitive spot again, amazed when the skin twitches. There’s something incredible about having such a massive effect on such a gorgeous man.

“You’re not planning on going anywhere, are you?” I can feel his frown and confirm it as he pulls back to look me in the eyes. The blanket around his waist shifts, revealing the top of his backside.  

“Not without you,” I admit. “But I do feel like we’ve earned a holiday.”

I slide my hand down his back and to the curve of his ass, which is scarless and soft. He shifts in my grasp, and I feel him start to harden against my thigh.

“Maybe you’re right,” he sighs, ghosting his lips over mine. “You pick a time, I’ll pick the place.”

“Where do you have in mind?” He skates his hand down my side, resting it on my hip.

“Somewhere hot,” all at once he pushes me onto my back and slots his hips between my thighs. He’s leaning on his elbows to avoid crushing me, but his body is pressed firmly against mine. “Somewhere that doesn’t require many clothes.”

I’m giggling when he finally kisses me, taking my breath away.

[coffeeandacig]

HUGE M*A*S*H NEWS!

Direct of the MASH Matters Facebook Page

M*A*S*H: THE COMEDY THAT CHANGED TELEVISION, AN ALL-NEW TWO-HOUR CELEBRATION OF TELEVISION’S MOST INFLUENTIAL SITCOM

NEW ORIGINAL SPECIAL AIRS MONDAY, JANUARY 1, ON FOX

Featuring New Interviews with Cast Members Alan Alda, Gary Burghoff,

William Christopher, Jamie Farr, Mike Farrell, Wayne Rogers and Loretta Swit,

as well as Original Series Executive Producers Gene Reynolds and Burt Metcalfe

Plus Rarely-Seen Archival Interviews with Writer/Producer Larry Gelbart,

and Stars Larry Linville, Harry Morgan, McLean Stevenson and David Ogden Stiers

In the all-new two-hour special, M*A*S*H: The Comedy That Changed Television, premiering Monday, January 1 (8:00-10:00 PM ET/PT) on FOX, join the men and women who made M*A*S*H as they celebrate one of the most beloved, enduringly popular, often quoted and influential comedies ever created.

As the definitive look at the 14-time Emmy-winning television classic, the special centers around new interviews with original cast members Alan Alda (Capt. Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce), Gary Burghoff (Cpl. Walter "Radar" O'Reilly), William Christopher (Father Francis Mulcahy), Jamie Farr (Cpl./Sgt. Maxwell Q. "Max" Klinger), Mike Farrell (Capt. B.J. Hunnicutt), Wayne Rogers (Capt. "Trapper" John McIntyre) and Loretta Swit (Maj. Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan) and series executive producers Gene Reynolds and Burt Metcalfe. In these intimate, highly personal remembrances, the creation and evolution of the show’s iconic characters are revealed, alongside rare and never-before-seen behind-the-scenes footage, photos and stories.

Writer/producer Larry Gelbart, as well as additional series stars Larry Linville (Maj. Frank Burns), Harry Morgan (Col. Sherman T. Potter), McLean Stevenson (Lt. Col. Henry Blake) and David Ogden Stiers (Maj. Charles Emerson Winchester III) are remembered through a vibrant collection of clips from the series as well as in rarely-seen archival interviews. With unique experiences, observations and memories from 11 seasons of M*A*S*H, this special will make audiences laugh, touch their heartstrings, and leave them on a nostalgic high while celebrating the sustained brilliance of the iconic sitcom.

“M*A*S*H is not only a great television series, it is a cultural phenomenon. It has made multiple generations of viewers laugh, cry and think, often in the same episode,” said Executive Producers John Scheinfeld and Andy Kaplan. “We are excited to team with FOX to create this unprecedented window into an innovative television classic.”

"M*A*S*H is among the most iconic sitcoms in the annals of television history. It's a timeless show that comedically captures the 4077th medical corps and how they managed to maintain their sanity while saving lives on the front lines of the Korean War,” said Dan Harrison, EVP, Program Planning & Content Strategy, FOX Entertainment. “Larry Gelbart, Gene Reynolds and Burt Metcalfe brought this incredible comedy to life thanks to their ensemble cast led by the incomparable Alan Alda. FOX is proud to celebrate the landmark achievements of one of the best comedies ever created."

The M*A*S*H two-and-a-half-hour series finale that first aired on CBS in 1983 remains the highest rated telecast in television history, delivering an incredible 77 audience share and 60.2 rating. To-date, the show has never left the air, continuously running in syndication, on basic cable and now streaming on Hulu. The series was produced by 20th Television.

M*A*S*H: The Comedy That Changed Television is directed by John Scheinfeld (Reinventing Elvis: The ’68 Comeback, The U.S. vs. John Lennon and What The Hell Happened To Blood, Sweat & Tears?) with Scheinfeld and Andy Kaplan as Executive Producers.

Viewers can watch M*A*S*H: The Comedy That Changed Television next day on Hulu, Fox.com, On Demand and FOX Entertainment’s streaming platform, Tubi. On Demand is available for customers of Cox Contour TV, DIRECTV, DISH, fuboTV, Hulu + Live TV, Optimum, Spectrum, Verizon FiOS, XFINITY, YouTube TV and many more.

[gyllenhaalstuff]

Early office hours - Lou Bloom

•Summary: You have gotten an internship at Video Production News but you’re struggling more than you expected.

• Warnings: Oral (m receiving), mean Lou, handjob, blowjob, piv sex, overall smutty.

• Word count: 1989

(• Authors note: Hii <3 this is my first ever fic on here so don’t be too harsh on me. This was also written at 4 am. I also don’t know how to make this look neat.)

-

You had always prided yourself on working smart and not hard, a good trait for an aspiring journalist. So when an ad popped up on Craigslist offering you to shadow the owner of a video journalism company you immediately bit. Money was tight and your shabby LA studio apartment didn’t pay for itself. With that said, it seemed much more appealing to work your way up the ladder than to spend years studying and paying off student loans for the rest of your life. You responded to the ad and it didn’t take long before a date was set for an interview.

You entered the diner not really knowing what to look for. But there was only one table where just one person sat. He was slim, looked tired with his hair slicked back. He almost had what could be called a thousand yard stare. You walked towards him, hoping you weren’t walking up to some poor random man. But when he smiled at you, reached out his hand and introduced himself as Louis Bloom, you knew you were in the right place. You sat down on the plastic chair opposite from him and said your name back. “So, what about this opportunity interests you?” Lou asked. He was straight forward and you appreciated that. “Well I want to be a journalist and I also prefer not to be jobless” you half joked, though he didn’t seem to get it… or he just found it boring. “This would definitely a step in the right direction” he said with a smile. “Why should I hire you?” He continued and cocked his head. You swallowed, something in his mannerisms intimidated you. “I’m a hard worker. I focus on my tasks and I don’t let myself rest until I’m done. I have never gotten fired and I’m only without job because I quit on my own in order to get into journalism” you stated. He seemed to take you seriously. After asking about your work experience and your expectations, you were officially hired. The only trouble was that you only made money on commission, and it was a slim percentage of the other workers wage. But you swallowed your pride, a little money was better than none.

After your first shift you realised that this definitely wasn’t a normal journalism job. It might not even be legal. Even though it was sketchy, it seemed that Louis (or Lou, everyone seemed to call him that) had started quite a successful company. There were multiple vans patrolling each night and even an office where Lou would go through the footage in the early morning hours. And after your first night out with the crew he was adamant about showing you the office and the editing process.

It was a small space he had rented in an apartment building. One bathroom, a kitchen and an office. It was exactly what you would expect, fluorescent lighting, a gray carpet covering the whole floor and a coffee machine that had definitely seen better days. All the other workers had gone home for the night (or morning would be more accurate) and only you and Lou sat in the office space. You were nervous, firstly because you were alone with your boss and also because you could never figure out his next move. He seemed to be controlled only by impulses and needs. As he showed you how to transfer the videos onto the computer your eyes got stuck on his hands. And they were good looking hands. Almost feminine in their slimness but the fingers were long and the palms big. A few veins were visible on the back of his hand. “You’re not listening” Lou looked at you and said. “I- sorry” you said and tried to push away your stubbornness. You didn’t want to upset your boss on your first day. “I thought you were a good worker, no?” Lou asked condescendingly. He put down the camera on the desk. “Sorry, I’m probably just tired” you said hoping he’d give up and continue talking. Instead, he sighed, spun his chair so it faced yours and spoke, “I have high hopes for you y/n. But your eyes seem unreliable and it’s very important to me that you can keep your eyes set. How else can I trust you to eventually operate a camera?” He said. His tone almost sounded pitiful, maybe he was patronising you. If you weren’t sat on a chair you’d for sure be a puddle on the floor from the intense eye contact. This situation had quickly turned really embarrassing. “I’m so sorry Lou” you began and averted your gaze, “is there anything I can do? I really don’t want to compromise this opportunity”. You tried to speak words in his language and it seemed to work. He smiled at you. “I can tell you want to do this right.” He seemed to think for a moment before continuing, “I’ll cut you some slack today. For these last hours you can just act as an assistant.” You nodded, feeling as if all your pride had been thrown in a ditch. Not only because you had been caught, but because there was also another feeling swirling in you. You berated yourself internally for ever role playing office scenarios with your ex. Getting turned on by your boss setting you in place was really nice in theory, but torturous in practice. Your face flushed as these thoughts ran through your head. You quickly excused yourself to the bathroom.

The mirror light illuminated your flustered face and you cringed at your reflection. You splashed some cold water on your face and took 10 deep breaths before gathering up the courage to walk back out.

You entered the office for the second time tonight and Lou was still sat on his chair. You sat down in your own before saying, “sorry I’m just feeling a bit feverish. It’s probably nothing” and for the first time Lou let out something resembling a laugh. “You’re not sick. You’re just desperate. And I’ll be honest with you… you’re my type and if I can make it easier for you to focus it’d benefit the both of us.” You were slightly taken aback, this was the last thing you expected to hear, especially from him. “I prioritise nothing more than my employees ability to do their job and do it well.” He said sincerely. “I don’t think I’m the one who makes the decisions around here” you respond, trying to dodge his offer without declining or accepting it. When Lou smiled you felt as if you had passed an exam with flying colors. “You’re good. But you’d be better on the floor” he said, with as little emotion as usual. And you slid down from your chair, down to your knees. The view you were greeted with was nothing short of erotic. Him with his legs on either side of you and his cold eyes watching you. “Well, what do you need to focus? I thought you were smart enough to know that on your own” he said and it almost sounded like a question. You threw your last sliver of dignity out the window and let your hand crawl up his thigh before grabbing his crotch. He let out a sigh of relief and you noticed that you weren’t the only one affected by your conversation. You unbuttoned his slacks and grabbed him through his boxers. His hips jerked slightly and he fought to keep his eyes open, because one thing about him that was for sure was that he loved to watch. You lowered your mouth and licked a stripe over his clothed shaft before letting your fingers pull down the hem of his underwear. He shifted slightly to let you pull them down far enough to expose all of him. Just as his personality was intimidating, his cock was too. You let your thumb run over his slit before spitting on it and spread your saliva with your hand. You watched him as you did, monitoring his reactions and acting accordingly. His breathing was jagged and his nostrils flared when your hand came up to squeeze his tip. “I’m not patient” he warned with a frustrated chuckle. You could’ve easily taken him into your mouth and had him cum down your throat within minutes, but this was about you too. Instead you got up, took off your pants and sat on his lap. Your lace underwear did little to cover you but what did it matter now. You grabbed his shoulders as you ground your hips against his cock and a quiet moan slipped past your lips. You rocked back and forth, not knowing the next time you’d be hooking up with someone and barely remembering the last.“You need to work faster than this” Lou sighed, he picked you up by your hips and laid (more like threw) you down on an empty part of the desk. “You’re not proving yourself to me by being selfish” he mumbled and tore off your underwear, letting them fall down on the floor. He let out a small, mean chuckle as he saw the wetness that covered your pussy. He dragged you forward towards the end of the desk before letting his cock rub against your clit. “You’re really not meant to lead. You’re sloppy, slow, undetermined. You’re much better at just laying back and looking pretty. Don’t you think?” He asked while staring you down. Even though his unsteady breathing gave away his feelings, his unfazed gaze wouldn’t let go of you. “I am” you nodded. You had no energy to fight back against this claim and all you could focus on was the fastest way to get him to fuck it out of you. You furrowed your brows at him to try and convince him to, “don’t be mean” you tried. “This is me being nice. I could’ve easily pulled a gun on you and filmed it for a few hundred bucks, but here I am.” He shrugged before finally entering you, painstakingly slow at first. You hissed at the intrusion and grabbed onto the edge of the desk. “You should be really fucking careful” Lou whispered before upping his pace.

One of his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you against him with every thrust. The pace he set was dizzying and you were sure your hips would be purple with bruises and crescent nail marks when you got home. A few strands of hair fell over his face that was now covered in a slight sheen of sweat. His ragged breaths were starting to turn into moans as he pounded into you, his eyes now fluttering shut. “I need to cum so I can focus” you manage to say in between moans, trying to convince him to help you get there. “You’re really getting on my nerves” Lou responded but he still complied, his hand let go of your hip and moved to circle your clit. Frankly, you were surprised he was so good at this, he seemed like such a loner. But the way he swiped at your clit confidently and with a mind numbing rhythm proved otherwise. “I’m close” you warned him, but it was almost inaudible through your whimpers. And he didn’t care anyway. “I’m gonna cum in you and you can’t say a fucking word” Lou said before his thrusts lost their rhythm and turned erratic. By that point you were already a mess beneath him and you clamped around him as you came with a cry. Now both his hands grabbed your hips as he frantically chased his high. And when he came inside you he did so with a loud moan. As you caught your breath he zipped up his pants, sat back down in his chair and got back on his computer.

“Let’s try to focus now. Yeah?”

[dearweirdme]

I think it's probably just me but jkk either "change" a lot or they just didn't and I'm the one overthinking. I'm talking about all the shipping stuff.

So you know jkk was and is a popular ship.

I became an Army in 2020 and i think before, in 2019, I was lurking around in bts/army stuffs. And I must say jkk has been popular since then. I fell on their videos and I was so into it. It was interesting to see so much skinship occured. At least for a bl fan.

Things started getting different when I got into taekook. I couldn't look back at all. There were times I would doubt, forget the idea of them dating and then come back and notice how obvious they were.

So of course I tended to compare the two ships a lot. First I would go on popular sites like Quora and see what was people opinions. Most of them will show undeniable taekook moments and the other half, jikk ones.

Since I was in my doubting era and I wasn't familiar with any of the korean/kpop culture living, I would take jikk skinship to a whole new level. My brain would just switch off and I'll tell myself over and over that no friends touch each other that much. Especially if I thought that taekook were a couple.

But even if I thought like that, nothing could crush my belief for taekook. It just co fused me a lot.

Years passed and 2023 put like a big hole in my head because aside from the footages we were offered by the company in 2022, I failed to remember what jikk was like back then. Anything related to them just vanished.

And here I come.

I don't know if I'm the one who changed my perspective or its the ship in general, but I see nothing other than friendship/brother relation. I swear to God it is sooooo obvious it almost hurt to remember how foolish I was to think otherwise.

Now I can pinpoint what the real difference between taekook and jikk is. For me.

When we don't see taekook touching on screen, doing everything for the fans eyes, it doesn't deny anything. In fact, every analysis and hypotheses we've had till today makes so much sense. Them secretly hanging out together, talking about each other every chance they get, inserting one another individually in everything they are faced by... it is just there.

Now jikk. Sigh... i love them a lot. I watched the two episodes yesterday and I know some people claim that the show isn't what it takes for the ship to be debunked but let me just say this: they make no sense as a couple if it isn't for the skinship. If there was a hour footage of jikk tomorrow and they didn't touch each other at all, yall will see exactly what i'm talking about.

The real difference is in the words and actions. That's all.

Hi anon!

What an interesting ask 😊.

I have personally never seen anything romantic between Jk and Jm. When I finally discovered they were a strong ship, I was shocked 😂.

When we talk about how connected Tae and Jk are, we don’t just mean the way they are physically close. It’s almost indescribable, but I think it is also what you mean. They are just on another level when it comes to closeness as a whole. There’s an underlying awareness and understanding and connection between them.

[renx01]

Out of sight - part 4

General idea: Moriarty is your boss. After he helped you out of a precarious situation when you were still a minor, you started working for him. Now, he has a new job for you. Get close to the Holmes brothers to keep an eye on them for him. Pairings: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Mycroft Holmes/Reader  & Jim Moriarty/Reader Fandom: BBC Sherlock Word count: 2203

Masterlist

The following morning you woke up at 5 am again and went on another run. This time, Seb wasn’t there to greet you, but you really didn’t mind. After another 15 km run you shower and head to Scotland Yard. The tube, as always, is quite busy at this hour. At your arrival, you’re greeted by Greg, Anderson and Donovan arrive shortly after you do. It’s obvious they’d spent the night together again, but you decide it’s for the better not to comment. You suppose both their partners are away on business trips.

Most of your morning is spent going through files related to the same homicide as the previous day and making some adjustments to your report. All of the evidence is relatively straightforward and logical. Yet you’ve noticed that quite a few people aren’t as capable as you had expected, meaning that it’s unlikely for them to solve the crime without you pushing them in the right direction a bit more. While there are some in the department that are capable to an extent, it is quite telling that Sherlock has to be called in to solve so many cases. As you’re looking through some photographs and other evidence, DI Lestrade approaches your desk looking awfully nervous for some unknown reason. ‘Hey Charlie.’ He greets you. ‘Greg, how may I help you?’ You smile kindly at him. The smile he gives back is quite sheepish. ‘I was wondering if you could check some evidence related to a different case; me and the rest of the team are a bit stuck and it seems you might be able to discern some more information.’ Nodding, you pull up the server which holds all the evidence that’s been collected. ‘Which case?’ You turn to the screen and look for the code he names. It’s a recent case, which only happened about a month ago but there still aren’t any suspects that have been arrested. This particular homicide happened a few streets down from where the victim had last been seen at a pub. Supposedly, the woman had left to go home but never made it there. ‘Is there any camera footage from the pub?’ Greg shakes his head in response. ‘In this day and age? That’s quite remarkable. What was the victim’s name?’ ‘Vanessa McEwan.’ You type the name into the database. ‘About half a year ago she filed for a restraining order against an ex-boyfriend of hers. Despite having petitioned to cancel it only two months after, you should probably look into him. Maybe the toxic ex got back into contact with her, apologised and she forgave him. That doesn’t mean that he’s actually changed though…’ Greg looks at your computer screen intently. ‘I suggest you look into this ex, Thomas Jones, and check the camera footage around the bar. While he may not have been in the bar with her, he may have picked her up with the intent of getting her home safely. At least, that’s probably what she thought when she went with him.’ From the corner of your eye, you see him swallow thickly. You decide to ignore it and not comment. A few moments pass before he thanks you and goes back to his own office.

Before lunch you managed to finish the report on the gang related homicide and started working on the one Lestrade had asked you to look at. When he approaches you again that afternoon, you show him some of the footage of cameras located close to the crime scene. They had clearly been arguing before they went to, supposedly, talk in the alleyway. An alleyway only Thomas had left afterwards. ‘This is great Charlie, you’re an angel for finding this footage.’ He smiles. ‘I suppose you should go catch the man then, he seems to have booked a trip to Ibiza and is set to leave in a few days' time.’ You respond almost too coolly, but he seems to brush it off before calling for Donovan to join him and leaving. 

To be frank, you’re bored. Bored of all the mind numbingly stupid people around you, bored of having to pretend to be similar, bored of sitting around all day and pretending that you haven’t solved the case yourself yet. As the afternoon turns into night, more people start leaving the office, with you sitting at your computer compiling evidence for yet another case. Around seven o’clock, you decide it’s time to head to baker street. The ride on the tube is calm, the music from your earphones drowning out the people around you. You hope that Sherlock will be there when you arrive, though based on how his case was going yesterday, you think it is quite likely that he is visiting a museum to gather more information on what the number fifteen could possibly mean to the people that see it shortly before their death. Looking at his personality and how seemingly easily he manages to solve cases, you understand why Jim is so fascinated by him. He is quite easy to read though, he is more emotional than you had expected and he doesn’t seem to hide who he truly is like you are doing by assuming the persona you are for this particular mission. His brother, on the other hand, clearly is hiding whatever sentiment he has since he sees it as a weakness. Yet his weakness is so glaringly obvious it’s almost comical. He even revealed it the first time you met him, his little brother Sherlock. To you, it seems like quite a poor decision to reveal such a thing so blatantly, but you suppose he believes most people are too much of a goldfish to realise that. On your way back you decide to get some take-away curry and naan for dinner at an Indian restaurant just around the corner from Baker Street. When you open the front door, you’re met by Mrs Hudson who looks quite startled. ‘Good evening Mrs Hudson.’ She smiles. ‘Hello dearie, did you have a good day at work?’ You nod. ‘Yeah it was good, nothing remarkable going on. I just got some Indian food on the way here though, so that’s exciting.’ She laughs at that. ‘You really have your priorities, don’t you?’ She hits your arm as she continues laughing. ‘Well yes, would you like some? This is far too much for me alone, so if you’d like we can have dinner together.’ Her gaze softens. ‘That would be lovely dearie.’

So, that night, you end up having dinner with Mrs Hudson, who tells you that Sherlock’s gone for the case, taking John with him. She tells you what they’ve been up to all day, complaining about all the noise the detective makes. It’s clear to you, though, that she actually doesn’t mind that much, if she did she would’ve evicted him ages ago. You suppose she likes you too, to an extent. Hopefully it will come in handy in the future. Sherlock has a soft spot for her anyway, so he’s more likely to trust you if she does too. After the two of you finish your dinner, you help her clear the table and do the dishes. ‘Charlie, thank you very much for this evening. It was lovely.’ You smile down at her. ‘It was my pleasure, Mrs Hudson.’ When you finally step into your flat, you put down your work bag and lay down on your bed, staring at the ceiling. This really isn’t the type of mission you’re used to. 

He’s out on a case again, probably related to Hong Kong. You should keep an eye on them, wouldn’t want them messing with your new toy. - S

A few minutes pass before you get a response.

Thanks. I will. -JM

~~~~~~

The following days were spent in the same manner. Going for a run, going to work, working, going home, speaking to Mrs Hudson, and going to bed. It’s a repetitive routine and you suppose this is what most people do. You still haven’t seen much of Sherlock, but you supposed it makes sense when he’s on a case. One night, when you arrive home after a long day, you’re met by John who is about to leave. 

‘Oh hi Charlie, it’s been a while.’ You smile and nod  ‘It has indeed.’ He looks to be more dressed up than he usually is. ‘Going on a date?’ ‘I am. How did you know that?’ To be fair, you hadn’t really anticipated that question. ‘Well, usually you go out with Sherlock at night, you know, to solve cases and such. Seeing that he isn’t here with you, I just assumed.’ That wasn’t actually why you assumed, but it is what most people would probably say if they knew John for a long enough time. ‘Well, I won’t hold you up for much longer. Hope you have fun.’ Quietly, you pass him and open the door that had just closed. When you’re about to go in, he puts a hand on your shoulder. ‘Thank you, really.’ He says with a smile when you turn to face him. ‘Of course.’ You smile back before entering the building.

Before you’re able to enter your flat, you hear Sherlock running down the stairs. ‘Charlie,’ he looks around the corner,  ‘you’re right on time. Want to join me for a case?’ This is the opportunity you’d been waiting for. ‘Sure, I don’t see why not.’ You pretend to hesitate. ‘Though, I don’t think I’ll be of much help.’ His face contorts into something you don’t recognise. ‘Don’t fret about such things, John doesn’t tend to add much either. Besides, I think you’d be more of a help when it comes to this, with your job and all.’ When he finishes speaking he’s already halfway out the door. Quickly, you put your work bag inside and lock your flat before following the detective out the door.

You arrive at the circus shortly after John and Sarah, who are talking to the person giving out the tickets. ‘I’ve got two reserved for tonight.’ You hear John say as you approach. ‘What name is it?’ The lady at the ticket counter looks at him curiously. ‘Ehm… Holmes.’ Of course Sherlock has arranged this. Based on where it’s located and the theme of the circus, it’s likely to be related to the case, which John, of course, hadn’t anticipated. ‘Actually, I have four in that name.’ After he accepts the envelope with Sherlock’s name on it, he tells her that there must’ve been an error. ‘He booked two.’ Grabbing this opportunity to hijack John’s date, Sherlock finally approaches them. ‘And then I phoned and got one for me and Charlie as well.’ Sarah finally turns to face the two of you. ‘I’m Sherlock.’ You give her an awkward smile. ‘I’m Charlie.’

Sarah heads to the bathroom shortly after and John starts arguing with Sherlock. ‘You couldn’t let me have one night off?’ He looks at the detective accusingly before glancing at you. ‘I was not involved in the decision making, Sherlock just asked me to join him on a case and I accepted. I didn’t know we’d be crashing your date.’ You hold your hands up in defence. ‘True, I dragged them along.’ He states matter-of-factly. ‘Besides, the Yellow Dragon Circus! One day they’re in London. It fits. The Tong sent an assassin to England…’ He returns to his usual, somewhat excited, self. You’ve noticed he only speaks like this when it’s about a case or John. ‘Dressed up as a tightrope walker! Come on, Sherlock. Behave!’ The smaller man scolds the other. ‘A killer who can climb! Who can shin up a rope! Where else would you find that level of dexterity?’ He continues rambling about the possibilities and you start looking around the room. It’s clear that Sherlock is probably right about the assassin, though they probably also know of him looking into them. In the future he should consider being more careful when it comes to just walking into a place like this.‘Fine. You go ahead, I’ll take Sarah off for a pint.’ John sounds defeated. ‘I need your help.’ Sherlock states. ‘Look, I do have one or two other things on my mind this evening. Besides, you have Charlie with you. They are perfectly qualified to help you.’ The other man looks confused. ‘Like what?’ Of course, Sherlock’s one and only priority are his cases, there’s no room for trivial things such as romantic entanglements. Not consciously anyway. By the way he chooses to ignore the mention of you, there is reason to suspect there may be some underlying… interest. ‘You are kidding?’ John sounds shocked and annoyed. He really hasn’t gained full comprehension of how Sherlock works. ‘What’s so important?’ ‘Sherlock. I’m in the middle of a date. You want me to accost some killer whilst I’m trying to…’ Obviously Sherlock doesn’t understand at all. ‘What?’ John groans. ‘Whilst I’m trying -’ ‘John, I’ll try to keep Sherlock in check, sorry about all this.’ You grab the detective’s arm and drag him away as Sarah comes out of the toilet. John forces a smile as he turns to her. ‘Ready?’

[swaps55]

Mezzo - 07 - They All Die Young

Pairing: mshenko | Rating: M Tags: Canon-typical violence, trauma, dealing with your problems poorly, body autonomy struggles   Summary: The twists and turns of ME2, through the eyes of everyone but Commander Shepard. Chapter Summary: Hannah Shepard, Jack, and Mordin, Oh My! AKA, Swaps wrote Mordin’s POV for the first time and she’s being so brave about it.

Chapter 7: They All Die Young | Read on Ao3

14 November 2185, Arcturus Stream, Arcturus, SSV Everest

Hannah Shepard sits at the conference table in room 2B on the Everest, eyes on the door that Admiral Hackett better walk through any damn minute. The Orizaba docked on Arcturus an hour ago, and she’s been waiting in this tiny room for half of that.  

She replays the Freedom’s Progress security footage, staring at the face she had known since he took his first breath, even if she’d never really known the person behind it.

One minute he’d been a child chasing the stars, the next he’d had a spec ops designation, on his way to becoming the first human Spectre. Everything in between is just snapshots, still moments in time.

She’d last seen him about a year before his death, when she’d pinned him for making Staff Commander right before his transfer to the Normandy. The Spectre induction ceremony had happened without her. She’d watched from a terminal on the Kilimanjaro out in Gemini Sigma, wondering if the black chain on his dress uniform was Daniel’s. Giving it to him was supposed to have helped create some connection between them.

She always miscalculated when it came to Sam.  

But Sam had been so difficult to get to know. Even Daniel had struggled when he was a kid. Anderson was the only person he didn’t keep at arm’s length. Or so she’d thought, until she’d invited Lieutenant – Commander, now – Alenko to dinner after his memorial.

(I’m sorry you didn’t know him the way I did. I think you would have liked him.)

It was…a relief, in some way, that someone would be able to remember him in the ways that she could not.

Sam was so much like Daniel. Burned bright and fierce and left so little behind. Idly, she wonders what became of the black chain. One of the only pieces she’d had left of Daniel, and she’d given it to Sam. Now she has neither.  

They all die young. Or so she’d believed.

The conference room door opens, and Admiral Hackett walks in brusque, all business, acknowledging her salute with a curt nod and gesturing for her to keep her seat.

“Captain. Thank you for coming.”

“What is the meaning of the Freedom’s Progress security footage?”

He settles into his chair. A yeoman appears from a side door and offers them both water. Hannah waves him off, not taking her eyes off of Hackett.

“We don’t know yet,” he replies, looking her right in the eye.

“That’s my son, Steven. What do we know?”

He draws in a reluctant breath. “Several months ago we became aware that in the aftermath of Alchera, Cerberus managed to recover Sam Shepard’s body.”

Cold sweeps through her. “They found a body.”

She’s always imagined what those words would sound like.  

Read from the beginning | Read the rest on Ao3 | The Mezzo Playlist