#the blow torch he used has been in the bathroom for the last few days

[ikaris-whore]

I posted 1,548 times in 2021

100 posts created (6%)

1448 posts reblogged (94%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 14.5 posts.

I added 999 tags in 2021

#bucky barnes - 176 posts

#sebastian stan - 138 posts

#chris evans - 124 posts

#richard madden - 102 posts

#taron egerton - 96 posts

#marvel - 85 posts

#tfatws - 78 posts

#sam wilson - 69 posts

#fatws - 68 posts

#steve rogers - 63 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#we will be the first people to see the house but we can’t physically see it until tomorrow and our realtor has already drawn up the offer 🙈

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

I just had to do it after finishing the movie tonight ☺️

ETSY LINKED IN SOURCE

135 notes • Posted 2021-07-10 04:21:42 GMT

#4

Do You Love Me?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Pregnant!Reader

Prompt: sent in to @the-ss-horniest-book-club and I just had to. “Do you love me?” “We’ve been married three years.” with Bucky

It had been quite a week for you. Self doubt settled in. You were going through the motions of the day. Shower. Comfy clothes. Checking off the few things on your to do list that your body would allow because you had some energy today.

As you were cutting vegetables for dinner Bucky came through the door and headed straight to the bedroom as if you weren’t even there. His usual kiss to your temple and a snag of raw veg non-existent.

You pouted to yourself as you slowly, carefully finished prepping dinner. Bucky eventually made himself known again, sitting down to finally get a breather himself when he noticed you weren’t your usual self.

“What’s wrong doll?” He questioned.

“Buck.” You paused, debating whether to say ‘nothing’ or what was really racing through your mind even though you could tell yourself you were being irrational all you wanted you didn’t believe it. A sigh follows as you make up your mind. “Do you love me?”

“Do I love you?” He couldn’t believe you would ask such a thing. “We’ve been married three years.”

“That’s not an answer Bucky.” Tears started to burn your eyes, you sat the spoon down you were stirring with and started for the bathroom when his arms wrapped around you from behind.

His chin rest on your shoulder. “Don’t run. Talk to me. Why did you ask?”

“You didn’t kiss me when you walked through the door. You acted like I wasn’t even there.” As you said it out loud you knew it was irrational to jump straight to him not loving you for that one instance but you couldn’t help it.

He made up for missing you the first time by pressing a kiss to your neck— the same move that got you pregnant in the first place. His voice was as gentle as a lamb, his hands splayed on your belly. “You’re about to give birth to our daughter. You’ve stuck with me through thick and thin. Of course I love you. I’ll love you until my last breath.”

“And I’ll love you until mine.” You replied softly placing your hands over his.

238 notes • Posted 2021-02-16 17:48:15 GMT

#3

Creme Bru-lasers

Pairing: Ikaris X Reader

Word count: just about 400

A/N: This came about when my friend texted me about something Ikaris could do with his lasers. And it of course, knowing me, tumbled into thinks he could cook. 😂 Enjoy!

“Ike! Have you seen my blow torch?” You yell through the house as you dig through the drawers looking for it. You know you put it away right in the front of the first drawer you pulled out. That’s where it always was. But you had to admit your kitchen hasn’t been in its perfect order since he started experimenting in the kitchen himself.

On the opposite counter set a whole tray of ramekins full of a cream, yolk, and sugar mixture. Baked to a custardy perfection and waiting for their shell of sugar topping. But you couldn’t possibly get the perfect consistency without your blow torch which was now… missing. Gone. No where to be found in the kitchen. As you pulled out the last drawer with a huff Ikaris made his way to you finally.

“What do you need it for?” He asks curiously, looking around the counter until his eyes land on the ramekins. “Oh. I think I broke it when I went to use it last time but uh… just give me a minute.”

You were understandably mad that he broke it and didn’t tell you. Now you were going to be late with dessert for you and your friends dinner at Desi’s house because you would have to stop and grab one to finish there or worse —buy store bought.

You started to grumble to yourself as you put things away you’d pulled out in your search when you kitchen lit up just slightly more than it already was. Turning around you saw Ikaris, eyes ablaze melting the sugar, he’d spooned into each one while you had your back turned, to the perfect consistency. Anyone else would have been shocked, but for you? No this was a normal occurrence now. After he started to trust you with his secret, felt comfortable in your home there was no turning back. You weren’t sure how your home survived the first few weeks of that.

When he finished and his eyes returned to their normal grey-blue his gaze turned to you with a soft smile. “Good?”

Returning his smile you checked the custards —perfectly crisp, lightly browned, crystallized tops. Probably better than you would have done in your flustered state. “Yes. Yes. Ugh you’re a god send.” Grabbing his face in your hands you kissed him square on the mouth with a *mwah* and ran to change your clothes.

273 notes • Posted 2021-08-24 17:51:53 GMT

#2

A Little Less Conversation. A Little More Action.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Prompt: This one is from @the-ss-horniest-book-club I saw the prompt this morning and it sort of wrote itself. 🥳 Enjoy! As always 18+ only.

The room was dark, your friends surrounding you, the two of you laid on the couch toward the back of the room. A movie you really had no interest in watching was playing on the TV. Why everyone wanted to watch an action movie in your own lives were an action movie, you had no idea.

You had unknowingly started a game of chicken. A wiggle of your butt against his groin to snuggle in and get comfortable on the couch. His hands slowly venture up your thigh. Up twice as high as he’d return back down. Anticipation fills you as he gets to your hip, you could feel him getting hard against you. He isn’t. He wouldn’t. Not here.

Oh but he would, with the lightest pressure he feels you over your panties. A kiss to your ear. “Don’t make a sound, they’ll know.” He whispers his warning as he traces the edge of your underwear, hooking his finger and slowly pulling them down just far enough that his fingers can slide in you from behind. It takes everything in you not to moan as he does, a half a meep escapes and Steve’s head snaps towards the couch the two of you are occupying but quickly returns to the movie.

“Shh I’m trying to watch the movie.” He tells you to try to cover it up. The arm you’re laying on bends so he can grip you under the guise of a snuggle hug. His head burries into your neck— licking and sucking gently— and just as slow as he removed his fingers, his cock slid in filling you up. He sits there unmoving despite your best efforts to gain subtle friction.

Five minutes pass like that. Ten. You plead with a quiet whine of “Buck.” And he obliges with slow, through, intent thrusts.

You close your eyes, pursing your lips between your teeth as your climax builds trying to be quiet as a mouse. Not being able to help it you let out a “Oh fuck” as his fingers dance along your clit bringing you over the edge. But thankfully it lines up with the movie as Sam agrees without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Atta girl.” He praises you quietly as your walls coax his own end from him.

Once the two of you relax, he pulls out slowly and pulls your underwear back up. Moments later the movie ends and Steve quickly excuses himself.

Everyone returns to their rooms or towards the kitchen for a snack. Bucky hands you a glass of water as his phone pings. STEVE. Opening it you read it with him. “Next time, remember your best friend *also* has supernatural hearing. Ruined the damn movie for me.” You choke on your water as Bucky laughs.

“You’re not subtle.” Natasha remarks sipping her straw as she walks by giving you a knowing look.

314 notes • Posted 2021-02-11 18:16:15 GMT

#1

16029 notes • Posted 2021-01-06 03:50:20 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[wildwarcat]

Warhawk: The Second Avenger

Alright y’all, I’ve been meaning to post this for months and I finally got around to it. This fic is available only on Fanfiction.com under the title above. If you like the prologue, which I’ve posted below, definitely check it out on Fanfiction. This is NOT a reader fic, it’s a preview of an OC-centric fanfiction posted on another site. Enjoy!

Words: 4k

Warnings: Language, implied smut, references to homophobia

Chapter One 

Prologue

"The hero is the one who kindles a great light in the world, who sets up blazing torches in the dark streets of life for men to see by. The saint is the man who walks through the dark paths of life, himself a light." ~ Felix Adler

Edwards Air Force Base, June 1987

I could not have asked for a more beautiful day than that of June twenty-second, 1987. I arose to the usual sound of my alarm clock at 0600 and was greeted by rays of an early summer sun shining down on the picturesque form with which I shared my bed. Captain Carol Susan Jane Danvers, a woman with a knack for flying and a personality as fiery as the afterburners of an F-15 snored gently next to me. Her long, blonde hair cascaded around her face in waves, framing her perfect features as she slept through the alarm. I reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her snoring stopped and a small giggle escaped her. Her beautiful brown eyes opened a sliver.

"Well, now I know you're not sleeping anymore." I laughed quietly, my hazel eyes gazing adoringly at her. She scooted closer to me, wrapping an arm around my waist and burying her face in the crook of my neck.

"At least I get to open my eyes and see you lying next to me." She muttered into my chest, "Although, it'd be pretty nice to kiss my girlfriend when I see her on base later."

I sighed and pressed a kiss into Carol's hair, "You know we can't. Not if we want to keep our jobs. It's hard enough being women in the military. But if those shitheads knew about us, baby, they'd tear us to pieces."

Carol groaned, her face still buried in my neck. I laughed again and flung the covers off the both of us and slipping out of her grasp. Making my way into the bathroom before she could tackle me and drag me back into bed, I locked the door behind me and ran a hand through my tousled golden brown hair. My fatigues were folded on a towel rack next to the shower, my unit beret sat on the sink. Being a pilot, Carol was only seen wearing her flight suit on base, but being a part of command for the 31st TES like myself required a frequent change in attire. Dress uniform, fatigues, flight suit, repeat.

"Open up!" Carol rapped harshly on the door, "I need to shower."

"After what we did last night, I think we could both use one." I joked, unlocking the door. She burst in, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before she turned the shower on.

"Paige Rose MacDowell, just what are you implying?" She asked me with a sultry tone, her brown eyes sparkling as she began to strip.

"Exactly what you're thinking, beautiful." I smirked, grabbing a brush and beginning to work through the knots in my hair, watching as her perfect form entered the shower.

As soon as I arrived on base, a Lieutenant Colonel, whose name I didn't know, dumped a touring group of potential recruits on me. As badly as I wanted to say no and take off running in the other direction, I took over the tour with a stiff smile, leading the group toward the tarmac.

"Anyone here interested in being a pilot?" I asked over the rumbling of F-15 engines. A majority of hands went up in the air. I even caught a glimpse of a few girls amongst the boys, hands raised up high.

"Well, first things first, y'all need to be accepted into the Air Force Academy or join a collegiate-level ROTC program. After you graduate, you'll be commissioned as Second Lieutenants, after which you can declare your intention to become an Air Force Pilot. Unfortunately, women aren't permitted to fly combat missions, but we have several test pilots here at Edwards that are women."

A pair of F-15s flew overhead, sending a rush of air over us. I smiled as I watched the jets move up into a barrel roll. I pointed the jets out to the group.

"In fact, two of our female pilots are flying right now: Captains Danvers and Rambeau."

"Major! Major MacDowell!" A newly minted Lieutenant... Rhodes, I think his name was, came jogging toward me, calling my name over the roar of the active tarmac.

"What is it, Lieutenant?" I asked him, gesturing to the tour group, "I'm very busy."

"I've been sent by Colonel Kissinger to inform you that you're to meet with him in his office immediately." The young soldier panted as he slowed to a brisk walk. I glanced warily over at the boy.

"This isn't another one of Captain Danvers' pranks, is it?"

The young man shook his head and handed me a folded piece of paper, "No, ma'am. He gave me this for you."

I unfolded the paper and saw that there was only two words printed on it.

'Project Rebirth.'

The words were unfamiliar to me. I didn't know what they meant. We were working on Project Pegasus here at Edwards, whatever this Project Rebirth was... it was something that I hadn't been briefed on.

"Lieutenant Rhodes, would mind taking over this tour for me? Just show them the hangar, let 'em take a look at a few F-15s up close, answer any questions. My sincerest apologies, folks, but this is an emergency."

I turned on my heel and took off running toward Colonel Kissinger's office, making it there in record time. I straightened my beret before stepping inside and giving the aged colonel a salute.

"Major Paige MacDowell, reporting, sir." I said sharply.

"At ease, Mac." Kissinger replied, standing up from his desk chair and making his way over to me. We shook hands and Kissinger immediately led me out of the office.

"What's going on, Bart? What's so urgent that you pulled me away from duties?" I asked, handing back his note. Kissinger said nothing, he simply opened the door to a conference room and stepped aside. I walked in, but when I turned around, I saw that Colonel Kissinger hadn't followed me inside. The lock on the door clicked, trapping me in the conference room.

"Major MacDowell," An unfamiliar, gravely voice addressed me from the other side of the room. There was an immediate air of distrust as I turned to see a man standing at the head of the conference table, a man I did not recognize. He was stout, with a terrible bowl cut on his pudgy head, and beady brown eyes. He wasn't dressed in a military uniform, but in a lab coat, on which the name Otto Octavius was stitched.

"My name is Dr. Otto Octavius. I've been employed by the United States military for a secret scientific project."

"Project Rebirth." I said quietly, taking a seat at my end of the table.

"Correct." Octavius took his own seat and folded his hands in front of himself, "I trust that aside from the name of the project, Colonel Bartholomew Kissinger told you no other details?"

"No, Doctor. He didn't." I answered politely.

Octavius smiled a grisly smile, "Excellent. Allow me to explain. I'm sure you're aware of the story of one Captain Steve Rogers?"

"Of course, who isn't?"

"Indeed. After Dr. Abraham Erskine, the lead scientist on the project, was killed, his Super Soldier Serum formula was believed to be lost forever. But, thanks to the efforts of a few select minds, we have successfully recreated the serum. The military has created a shortlist of soldiers who display exemplary qualities reminiscent of Captain Rogers, and from that list they have selected you to be our subject."

"So... what?" I deadpanned, leaning back in my chair and giving him a cold stare, "You expect me to crawl into a pod, get injected with a serum you aren't sure will work, and get blasted with Vita-Rays that could very well kill me? All because the big wigs selected me from a shortlist of soldiers who are nice?"

"Well, when you put it like that it sounds crude and inhumane." Octavius replied, chuckling a little to himself, "But there is no need to be concerned, my friend. We reverse engineered the serum using samples of Steve Rogers' blood. It is perfectly safe. And after looking over your record, I doubt you'll have any trouble enduring the physical strain the injection will put on you. Following the procedure, you will be assigned your first covert mission by General Chain. I suggest you get your affairs in order tonight, the procedure will take place at 0700 tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I stood from my chair and glared down at him, "I can't just drop everything on a whim to be a part of some science experiment! I have friends and family that will wonder what's happened to me!"

"Major, you have twenty-four hours to notify only your closest relatives and friends of your situation. Only those you can trust prior to the procedure should be informed."

I tried to come up with a decent counter-argument, but found that my mouth had gone dry, as though it had been stuffed with cotton.

I sat back down, "If I do this... I'm not gonna be like him. I'm not Captain America. For Christ's sake, my callsign is Warhawk, what does that tell you about me? I'm no Star-Spangled Woman. And I won't be turned into one. You turn me into a super soldier, and it'll only blow up in your face in the long run."

Octavius smiled, "I'd expect no less of an answer from one of the handful of women who served in the Invasion of Grenada. Now, no fluids or food of any kind beginning at 1800 hours tonight, absolutely no alcohol for the next twenty-four hours. You may bring one person with you to the procedure, should you feel the need to have a witness present." Octavius said, standing from his own chair and making his way over to me. He extended his hand, which I shook out of sheer politeness, before handing me a file, "It has been a pleasure meeting you, Major MacDowell. I shall see you bright and early tomorrow."

He went to the door, knocked three times and the door unlocked. The doctor left, and soon I followed, greeted by Colonel Kissinger on the other side of the doorway.

"Are you alright, Major? You're looking a bit pale." Kissinger asked me.

"Fine, Colonel. I just need an hour or two to process what I've just been told." I replied, straightening up a bit and returning to my office. Maybe a bit of paperwork would pull my mind away from the suddenly lingering sensation of dread that had set in me during my conversation with Otto Octavius.

Returning home from base was less than delightful. I had made it my personal mission to avoid Carol and Maria all day. Dr. Lawson agreed to be my witness for the procedure, but that didn't stop me from staying late in an attempt to delay having to explain everything to Carol.

"Took you long enough to get home." Carol called from the kitchen as soon as I stepped through the threshold. She ran out to meet me, a couple of beer bottles in hand. I sidestepped her and set my things down in my study a few doors down the hall. Carol followed me, shoving a beer into my hands as soon as they were free.

"You look like you could use a drink, babe." She smiled, pressing her lips to mine quickly.

"Sorry to disappoint, but I can't." I apologized, handing the bottle back to her.

"Of course you can! Just-" She raised her own bottle and took a long swig. She held the second bottle out to me and looked at me expectantly.

"No, Carol, I really can't." I said, pushing her hand away, "We need to talk."

She set both beer bottles down on my desk and grabbed my hand. For the first time in the years that I had known her, concern flooded her face, her brown eyes wide. I took a deep breath, gave her hand a firm squeeze.

"The higher ups are rebooting the Super Soldier Program. I'm their test subject. I go in for the procedure tomorrow."

I waited for the explosion of anger that usually followed any news Carol wasn't informed of at an earlier notice, but it never came. Rather, a pair of strong arms wrapped themselves around me, a pair of lips met mine with a ferocity and intensity unlike any I had experienced before.

"I love you." She blurted out as soon as she pulled away. I tensed up; we hadn't gotten that far in our relationship before. I must've looked like I was going to throw up or something, because Carol's face grew concerned again, "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah." I choked out, setting a gentle hand on her cheek, "Better than okay, actually. I... I love you too."

She smiled, that signature lopsided, cocky, adorable half-grin that made me melt every time she sent it my way. I set an arm around her waist and led her toward the kitchen.

"C'mon. Sit down, finish your beer, and I'll give you the details."

I told her everything. About Octavius and Project Rebirth, about General Chain. She listened silently for the most part, maybe an occasional question here or there. When I was done, I waited for her to say something, anything. When she did, it was only a simple question.

"So... you're gonna become Captain America?"

I rolled my eyes and grabbed her empty beer bottle, tossing it in the trash, "Not exactly. I'll be more of a new and improved version of myself. The way Octavius put it, it sounds like I'll become the best version of myself."

"You said you could bring someone with you. Do you want me to come?" She asked, a twinge of hope in her voice. I shook my head.

"I don't think I want my girlfriend seeing me in immense pain as I'm battered with Vita-Rays. I called Dr. Lawson earlier; she'll be my witness." I told her, taking her hand as I sat next to her again, "But I don't know when I'll see you again after this. General Chain is sending me on my first covert op as soon as I step out of that pod."

Carol leaned over, pressing her forehead to mine and letting her beautiful brown eyes flutter shut, "Then we better make tonight as memorable as possible."

The sun was just beginning to rise as I slowed my truck to a halt in the parking lot of the Stark Industries Research and Development Park. The file that Dr. Octavius had given me contained only a single piece of paper with directions to the park and the time of the procedure. I stepped out of the truck and made my way to the front door, where an unfamiliar man stood waiting for me.

"Major, I'm Agent Fury, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division."

I smirked, "Ever thought about just calling your agency, S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"We've considered it." He replied, holding the door open for me. I stepped inside and let Agent Fury take the lead, bringing me down the empty hall into a maze of research labs and test rooms.

"Has Dr. Lawson arrived?" I asked him.

"I wasn't informed of it, Major. I'm just here to bring you to the lab. I won't be in the room for the procedure, Director's orders." Fury explained, coming to a stop in front of one of the research labs near the rear of the building, "Good luck."

I nodded once and opened the door. When I walked in, every scientist and government official in the room froze, eyes locked on me for a moment, before they went back to work.

"Major MacDowell." A woman's voice, clearly British and one I didn't recognize, approached me. I turned to see an older woman walking toward me, her eyes kind yet fierce, her ruby red smile polite. She extended her hand which I shook firmly, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Peggy Carter, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. We'll be working very closely after today, so I thought it ideal to be here for your procedure."

"Director Carter, it's an honor. My father served in the 107th, I grew up hearing stories about you and Captain Rogers." I told her. At the mention of Rogers, her gaze turned sad, but it returned to its original state just as quickly as it had changed.

"Allow me to introduce you to some of our associates." She offered, leading me out to the main floor, "You've already met Dr. Octavius, of course, and General Chain, I'm sure you're familiar with. Here, we have Howard Stark-"

Of course I knew who Howard Stark was, anyone who wasn't living under a rock knew who he was. He wasn't the spry, handsome, young playboy he once was, but he still had an air of brilliance about him; an air he had most definitely passed on to his son, Tony. Stark smiled warmly at me and shook my hand.

"Major MacDowell, we're looking forward to seeing what will become of you after today." He said, "Though, I doubt anyone could top the efforts of Steve Rogers. No offense."

"None taken, Mr. Stark."

"Please, call me Howard." He insisted.

"Then by all means, everyone here should call me Mac. My entire battalion does." I smiled.

"At least there's someone here who isn't trying to turn into a carbon copy of Rogers." A nasally voice remarked from across the room. Leaning against a set of computers was a man about twenty or so years younger than Stark, with a bit of a bored expression on his face.

"And this is Dr. Hank Pym. One of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s consulting scientists." Director Carter said politely. He didn't wave or anything, but I acknowledged him with a small nod, which seemed to be enough for him. As she began to list of the names of a few other military officials and a couple of senators, I found my gaze drawn to the pod at the center of the room.

This was happening... it was really happening.

"Major, are you ready?" Stark asked me. I took a deep breath and nodded.

"Excellent." Dr. Octavius walked over to me and shook my hand, "Please remove your shirt, shoes and dog tags."

I did as instructed, leaving on only my fatigue pants and a black sports bra. The pod lowered itself until it was parallel to the floor, Octavius motioned for me to lay down on it. I looked up at the observation room that sat in the northwest corner of the room, letting out a small sigh of relief when I saw Dr. Lawson standing there next to General Chain. She offered me a small nod of reassurance and I set myself down on the bed. A couple of nurses began prepping the serum while another one prepped my shoulder for an injection.

"Nurse Reilly will now administer a precautionary dose of penicillin." Stark informed me as the nurse sent a needle deep into my arm and hit the plunger.

"Let's get this over with then." Pym sighed. Director Carter made her way up to the observation room while Stark grabbed a microphone and began to give a little spiel.

"Ladies and gentlemen, officers and senators, welcome. While it may seem like a lifetime ago, it wasn't so many years back that I stood in a room similar to this to witness the rebirth of Captain Steven Grant Rogers. And today, we are here to witness the rebirth of the super soldier era. Major Paige MacDowell, today you become not only the first in a new line of soldiers, you become the first in a new line of heroes."

There was a bit of applause from the observation room before Stark set the microphone down and turned to Octavius.

"Dr. Octavius, let's begin."

Injection pads lowered themselves onto my shoulders, my stomach and my legs with the press of a button. With the press of another, small cylindrical vials filled with bright blue liquid began to drain. There was a sharp, pinching pain all throughout my body, as though a lightning bolt had been sent through me. The pod began to lift me up until I was perpendicular to the ground. After a minute or two the pain subsided.

"Serum injection complete. Preparing for Vita Radiation." Octavius announced. The pod began to close itself, sealing me inside. Once the pod locked shut, someone knocked on it from the other side.

"Mac, you okay in there?" Howard Stark's muffled voice asked me.

"Yeah," I replied loudly, "Though I think I may be claustrophobic after this."

I heard a few laughs on the other side, I must've been mic'd up. Suddenly, the small window that I had became invisible as a white light filled the pod. At first, the presence of the light sent a tingling sensation through my body. But as the light became brighter, the tingling became a dull, steady pain. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the light continued to grow brighter and pain grew sharper. I bit back the desire to yell in pain until it became too unbearable to handle. The sound that escaped me was unrecognizable, almost animalistic, but it fell away almost instantaneously when the light disappeared and the pain subsided.

The pod opened up with a steam-filled hiss and suddenly a rush of cool air greeted me. Stark and Pym rushed over and helped me down when the injection pads removed themselves. From a glance, I realized that I now stood an inch or two taller, so that I matched both scientists in height. I looked down and saw a well-defined four-pack, in fact, every muscle in my body seemed to have been given a major tune up. I felt... new, like I was a mint condition action figure just taken out of the box.

Director Carter and General Chain came jogging out of the observation room, Lawson seemed frozen in place.

"How do you feel, kid?" Pym asked me as we came to a stop.

"Fantastic." I panted, a dopey grin on my face, "Like I could do a triathlon and run straight into a marathon without breaking a sweat."

"That's good to hear." General Chain said, "Because from here on out, you work for Director Carter."

My grin fell away, delight replaced by confusion, "What do you mean, Chain?"

Carter smiled softly, "I believe the good general means to welcome you to S.H.I.E.L.D., Agent MacDowell."

"So when you said we'd be working closely, this is what you meant." I said in understanding. I paused for a moment, then looked her in the eye, "Working under a woman of your caliber will be an honor. Whatever you need me to do, I'll do it without question."

"Spoken like a true soldier." She remarked, a playful smile gracing her lips, "But you're not a soldier anymore, Paige. You're a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, which means that you're first and only priority is doing what you believe is right to make the world safe. Is that clear?"

"As crystal, ma'am." I answered. She extended her hand to me. I shook it, and followed her out of the room, into a new chapter.

[visual-explorxtion]

Murder for One - One Shot

Summary: They found their way back to where the nightmare began. The Oswell E Spencer mansion. But things took a wrong turn. Chris has been murdered. And it’s up to the gang to track down his murderer.

A/N: I wanted to write a short murder mystery but I kept emphasising a lot of things so it turned out a bit longer than I’ve intended. Also been rewatching Twin Peaks so I was kinda inspired by it.

Word count: 2.3K

11:55 pm, June 14th, Oswell E Spencer's mansion.

A moonless night, just like many of the others, is a deadly premonition. BANG! The thunder roared and the split of lightning flashed that lit up the rustic library in a blink of an eye, then shrouded by darkness once more. The only light source is the lone fireplace, located on the far side of the room. The firewood crackled.

Chris is dead.

Nobody came in or out of this mansion. Except for our four little suspects: Leon S Kennedy, an American Agent working under the government; Jill Valentine, former S.T.A.R.S member and current Special Ops Agent in the BSAA; Claire Redfield, a member of TerraSave; Carlos Oliveira, former UBCS and mercenary. The four stood looking down at the corpse, the light behind their eyes extinguished along with the life of their former friend.

2 hours earlier:

Chris was sent out by HQ to investigate further about a new strain of the virus being created in the Spencer's mansion. Of course, this was all tipped by an anonymous caller. HQ should've known better. This mission was a quick data retrieval, but the rest of the group got worried when Chris hasn't returned after an hour has passed. As soon as they've received the news, the four of them came rushing to the scene of the crime. Inside, they found Chris lying cold on the oak wood flooring. Upon further investigation, they can pinpoint that Chris: took a hard blow to the head, visible strangle marks around his neck and several stab wounds in the general area of the torso. All of these could be the fatal cause of Chris's death. There was no sign of intruders or breaking of any locks which means, the killer's only access is the front door.

"Who could've done such a thing?" Claire sniffles.

"I'll contact HQ and see if we could get some back-up and analysis going." Leon tampers with his phone. "Shit, can't get a signal here."

Jill took a quick glance at Claire then focused on Chris's lifeless body, she sighs. "This isn't right. There's no blood around the corpse." she contemplates for a moment. "...which means, the murdering didn't happen in this room. Alright, let spread out and see what we can find." They nod, each set off in different directions. Claire and Carlos scout the ground floor while Leon and Jill tread lightly along the first floor. Strong wind clatter the decade-old windows and echos through the hallway, making a ghastly sound. Jill swallows. Mansions give her the creeps and often unfond memories. The upper hallway split into three separate doorways; one lead to a bathroom, another is a decorated study and lastly is the dust-coated master bedroom.

"I'll go check out the study." Leon declared, she gave an approving nod and both head on to their chosen destination, flashlight in hand. The doorknob is rusted, giving it several twists then it groaned open. The bedroom is grim with a dampened smell, furniture covered in white sheets. If this doesn't scream creepy, Jill ain't sure what else would. The beam of light continues to shine on showing nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly, torch caught something reflective, just shying away behind the edge of the bed frame. Jill grasp the object for a closer inspection to reveal a candle holder, decaying away with time. Bingo! Bloodstains. The red liquid also seeped along the skirt of the white covers. Is this...the scene of the crime?

"Jill!" Leon cries out in distress.

The murder weapon clanked against the wooden floor. Jill sprinted in full speed towards the study only to find Leon hunched over the rows of bookshelves.

"Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" she pants.

"Come take a look at this." he reaches out his hand.

Jill frowns. "But this is Chris's knife...Why would it be here?"

"This could be where Chris got murdered. Look, there's blood splatter across here." The crimson fluid trailed its way near the bookcase. "This can't be right...if this is the murder weapon... Wait!" Jill turned on her heels and marched farther along the hallway. She managed to pry open the last door which unveiled the unkempt bathroom, the scene mirrors the other rooms. "As I thought."

"But...this doesn't make any sense." Leon's face scrunched upon looking at its interior. The third murder weapon. A rope loosely hanging from the shower curtain rail, blood tainted the hemp thread. Must be caused by the friction against Chris's skin which broke the outer layer of the tissue.

"Leon! Jill!" Carlos's voice roared halfway across the place.

They both gave a knowing look to one another before heading off to the foyer. Claire and Carlos stood with an unsettling look on their faces.

"I think...we've found what may have killed Chris..." they both pulled out a blood-stained object. A kitchen knife and a porcelain vase. Sadness filled their eyes as they both averted their gaze away from the weapons.

"No...it's impossible. This getting more confusing by the minute." Leon huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What do you mean? These two must be the murder weapon. The bloodstains can't lie." Claire frustrates over Leon's remarks and stood her ground.

"We found more objects like this upstairs, stained with blood, each in different rooms," Leon explains.

Jill sighs, rubbing her temple with her index finger. "Let's just...go back to the library and calmly figure this out."

"Maybe if we reenact it out, we can decode this mystery." an idea struck Carlos. Leon pats his arm before shuffling back to along the route to the library.

The temperature hasn't changed at all since they left, still cold and bitter. Chris, still laying as dead as ever, being kept warm by the fireplace. Something caught Jill's eye, an envelope, seated on top of the mantelpiece with words written in cursive. 'Open me, when the truth is revealed'. She turns the letter over. But, there were no names or any seal marks.

"Hey, was this here before?" her voice sounded quizzical.

Carlos frowns, "I don't think so...Why? What's the matter?"

Jill shakes her head. "No, it doesn't matter. Let's just focus the matter at hand right now."

The grandfather clock chimed and made the group jump. 1 am...it's been 4 hours since Chris's death, but they aren't getting any closer to catching the killer. Jill starts picking at her fingers.

"Something's off...Nobody else knows Chris is here, except us. This was a solo mission. So that means...one of us did it." Jill said, out of speculation. She's never wrong about a hunch, even if that deduction was a bold one.

"Wait, what do you mean one of us? All of us have an alibi. We were with each other for the past few hours." the sound of Leon's voice warns her that she's treading on thin ice.

"Yes, but there's a two-hour window when the murder happened. And neither one of us has proof of our alibi in the time gap."

Tension is rising in the room. Indeed, this is a huge accusation. But Jill can't just stand aside and let the murderer walk free with bloodshed on their hands, let alone with her best friends blood.

"I have an alibi," Claire spoke out. "I was stuck on the highway on my way to Chris's place and I stopped by Krispy Kreme too."

"Well, I shared a ride with Jill this whole time. She'd know if I went missing for even a split second. And before that, I was with a friend. They can prove it." Carlos raised his hand.

"Leon?" Claire asks.

Leon mumbled quietly. None of his words was audible. "You're gonna have to speak up." He let out a huge sigh. "I said, I was at the bar. Just trying to get drunk. There. Ya happy now?"

Something still doesn't feel right. Jill knew that deep down, one of them is lying. "No. This isn't it."

"What do you mean 'this isn't it'? We all have an alibi, so it's not us." Carlos grunts.

"What about you Jill? Where were you before meeting up with Carlos?" Claire's words pressed up against Jill.

"I was working overtime, finishing off some paperwork at the office."

"Was there anyone else at the office with you?"

"No...no there wasn't. Everyone already left for the day and I was the only one." Jill bites her lip.

"Oh, God. D-did you...did you kill my brother? But why? I thought you two went through everything together!" tears start spilling down Claire's cheeks.

"No! It's not me! What reason have I got for me to kill Chris? He's my best friend. What will I gain from that?!" Jill's stomach churns, even she's starting to doubt herself. Wait a minute…

Leon wraps his arms around Claire's shoulders to comfort her emotions, his head trying to get around the words that he just heard, but his feelings are numbed at this moment.

A snicker reverberates the empty library. The lightning stopped about an hour ago, silence fills the air around them. Gradually, the snicker became a period of giggles.

"Y'know, you almost had me fooled. All this time, I thought something doesn't feel quite right. Why all the different murder weapons? And why spread them apart in the mansion? I couldn't figure it out...Even I've started to doubt myself, maybe I had a hand in pushing Chris's death. But I soon realise, all that gibberish was just a smokescreen!" She picks up the envelope and peeks at its content. "As I thought exactly. The truth."

The three of them looked at Jill with a quizzical look painted on their faces.

"Yes, they are all murder weapons. They did play a part in Chris's death, but they were only induced AFTER he got murdered!" she waltzes towards Leon, holding out a hand. "Leon, if you please." His brain whirred for a moment before he knew what Jill was talking about. He placed the object in her hand per her request.

"This is the true murder weapon." Jill presented Chris's combat knife. " The actual weapon that caused the fatal blow. Isn't that right, Claire?"

Claire's eyes widen in horror. "Are you out of your mind?! How could I have killed my own brother? I have an alibi."

Carlos exhaled. "She's right. It couldn't be her."

Jill cackled. "That's what I thought at first. But, something you said made me reconsider. 'The bloodstains can't lie'. Why are you so sure about that? You and Carlos only searched the lower part of the mansion, so why are you so sure that there were bloodstains on EVERY object when we only took the vital one?"

Claire kept her head down, looking at her feet, her shoulders shivering.

"As for the alibi, I have solid proof that you did it." Jill grins. "You said you were stuck on the highway. You weren't wrong. Travelling from your apartment to Chris's will require you to take a long journey, the only way is to drive on the highway. But! From your apartment to the mansion, you do not need to get on the highway. And the mansion to Chris's place is only a short drive so you have enough time to murder Chris, plan all the objects and the bloodstains and you still have time to spare. Of course, if somebody was to kill Chris, he would immediately defeat them without breaking a sweat. But what if that person knows him well and is someone he trusts wholeheartedly? Then, the circumstance would be much different." Jill takes a deep breath. "You've planned everything perfectly but you've missed the most important and intricate detail."

"And what is that?" she asks.

"The bookcase. When Chris was looking through the documents, you killed him there and then, using his own knife. Everything in that room was built with glazed wood so the cleaning up shouldn’t have taken so long. But, you forgot about the bookcase. Specks of blood were left on the hinges." she exhales. "Oh! And there's a new Krispy Kreme that just opened two blocks away from his place. I know because he took me there last week."

Claire's sniffing stopped. Her gaze remained on the ground. A soft hum came out of her mouth, slowly it turned into a giggle and lead to a burst of bellowing laughter.

"Well, colour me impressed. So what if I killed my own brother, hm?" She skipped her way toward his corpse. "The killing was quick. But the cleaning up! That took a whole hour!"

"You're sick. That's your brother."

"And what about it? Maybe he should have done what I told him not to do. Maybe then, he'd still be alive. Who told him to eat the last chicken nugget? It was mine! But he didn't listen to me. HE SHOULD HAVE LISTENED!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" A voice boomed as the door opens.

"Chris???" They said in unison.

Chris stare at them and sigh. The group sitting gathered around the coffee table in Chris's new apartment playing Cluedo at 1 in the morning. Jill and Claire having a go at each other's throats, Carlos sitting comfortably watching as this goes down and Leon's been on his phone for the past 5 minutes.

"But it was just getting good. We've just revealed who murdered you." Claire gave him the sad puppy eyes.

"Why am I the one getting murdered? Can't you use the default characters?" Chris frowns. "Also, do you want me to get kicked out again? This is my housewarming party and I don't want to receive any noise complaint as a housewarming gift. Now, tidy up. The pizzas' getting cold."

The four of them obeyed his command obediently, setting up the table for the awaited pizzas. Claire waltz her way towards the kitchen, just next to the dining table. "Hey! Who ate the last doughnut?"

Chris's face drained to a pale shade of gray. Discreetly, he backed out of the room, tip-toeing stealthily. Fist clenched as Claire raged. "CHRIS!"

[theinventorofstraightedges-blog]

Doctor Sleep (2019, dir. Mike Flanagan) REVIEW

It was the upcoming release of this film which impelled me to read Doctor Sleep, bumping it up to read immediately after my rereading of The Shining, and so I went into the film with a relatively fresh (maybe 2 weeks) experience of the source material.

The trailers for the film looked to be promising, though I had not seen anything of director Mike Flanagan’s previous work (The Haunting of Hill House, Gerald’s Game), and so I went into the film with a great sense of expectation: this was going to be a Good Film. And so, I bought my ticket and went to see it; first showing, opening day.

The opening of the film serves perfectly to draw the viewer in, with a real sense of dread at the True Knot preying on children. The slow, creeping dread as the camera repeatedly pans from Rose the Hat and the child to reveal more and more members of the Knot standing there, silently, watching is patent King tension building, all leading to when they fall upon the child. In those first few scenes, I felt the same clammy terror I felt reading about the Knot in the early pages in King’s novel.

Even before seeing the film I was intrigued by the nature of it, yes, it is an adaptation of the eponymous 2013 novel, which is a sequel to King’s The Shining (1977), it is also a sequel to Stanley Kubrick’s film adaptation of 1980, which notably diverged from the source material. And so, in the film, it was interesting to see the changes the film made, both to agree with Kubrick’s interpretation, and also to give it its own identity. These changes are evident to see even from the very start for someone who has read the book: the Knot are noticeably smaller on the screen than they are in the novel. At first I was unsure as to why this would be done, but it serves the dual purposes of getting rid of largely useless named characters in the book (I liked the sense of community they had in the book and how individual they are, but they ultimately serve no plot purpose), and to also emphasise the hunger and desperation the True Knot feel as they hunt for steam across America.

I was intrigued by how the film would treat the scenes with Dick Hallorann (this time played by Carl Lumbly) in Florida, who in the Kubrick film (played by Scatman Crothers), is killed by Jack with his axe. By having him appear as a vision from the shining when he presents Danny with, it makes his appearance as one later to warn Dan about the danger the True Knot poses for Abra natural. The film’s adherence to a narrative which coheres with Kubrick’s is extremely laudable, especially with the ending, but more on that later.

As mentioned above, the True Knot is noticeably smaller, a change which I am happy with, and is a precedent to further character changes which come part and parcel with any adaptation of a book, especially a King one. These other character changes I was less than happy about. Concetta Reynolds receives only a passing mention as someone who serves in the film only as a plot device to get Abra’s mother out of the house, when in the book she is a tenacious and loveable character who factors heavily into the book’s ending. The removal of the character of Casey Kingsley who in the book functions as Dan’s AA mentor, means in the film his role is filled by Doctor John Dalton (Bruce Greenwood), which means that John Dalton’s role in the film must be taken up by Billy Freeman (Cliff Curtis), who is now a tattooed youngish man, thus keeping Dalton out of the action he partakes in in the book. The whole thing feels slightly stilted in its handling, if I’m being honest, because it entirely messes with the great camaraderie and sense of community fostered between them in the book. This, then, feeds into one of the larger problems I had with the film: the deaths.

At the end of the book, all of our protagonists survive and the True Knot are vanquished – it is a well-won happy ending, everyone deserves it, most of all Danny. In the film, however, Abra’s father, David (Zackary Momoh) is killed and Snakebite Andi compels Billy to blow his brains out, while Doctor John – in his new Casey Kingsley role – is nowhere to be seen. While I realise that it builds up the tension and action of the film, to me it felt like it had partly overwritten one of the core messages for the book: that hope does exist for everyone, and that good will eventually triumph in the face of unspeakable evils. Am I griping a bit? Yes, but it was something that bothered me largely during the film.

The last change between source material and onscreen adaptation that irked me was only a minor detail, but while reading it I was deeply touched by it, and was disappointed by it not appearing onscreen. In the book, Dan is saved from danger by some supernatural force shoving one of his enemies out of the way, and Dan and Abra acknowledge that it was neither of them. Afterwards it is revealed to us that it was the spirit of Jack Torrance who did this, looking out for the son he could not protect while he was alive. It is a thoroughly heartfelt and touching moment redemptive of his character, which shows the goodness in Jack that we see trying to escape from the Overlook’s control near the end of King’s The Shining.

I simply loved everything else about the film. All of the actors, from Ewan McGregor as Dan, all the way down to Kyleigh Curran as Abra, turn in high quality performances that make you really empathise with them, and their plights, even Rebecca Ferguson’s Rose the Hat, and Zahn McClarnon’s Crow Daddy. I was especially captivated by McGregor’s performance as the alcoholic Dan at the start of the film. The desperation and sadness etched into his face truly was a sight to behold. The removal of the extraneous members of the True Knot also help in creating a tighter narrative, as, like all of King’s work, it is largely character driven.

Another admirable thing about Doctor Sleep was its aversion to jumpscares – instead choosing to increase dread through the slow build-up of tension, with the discordant bells striking throughout in the background, adding to the unease. As well as this, I was horrified (in the best possible way) by the effects for when Abra traps Rose’s hand in the filing cabinet and she has to tear it out. The effects for this were gruesomely realistic and had me wincing away from the screen in the theatre. And the scene with the baseball kid -Oh Man – it’s one thing reading the scene on paper, something which was harrowing in itself, but actually hearing Jacob Tremblay scream and scream as Bradley Trevor is uncomfortably heart-wrenching and horrifying: terrific stuff. It also doesn’t go without saying that the horror is increased by the reproduction of scenes from Kubrick’s interpretation of the Shining, with all of the actors giving it their all to fill the gargantuan shoes of such a classic horror flick.

(Also, the casting of the same actor, Henry Thomas, as BOTH the recreated bartender Lloyd and Jack Torrance (played respectively by Joe Turkel and Jack Nicholson in The Shining), I thought, was a genius move, which further serves to show us the how the Overlook preyed on Jack’s own psyche to seduce him in The Shining)

And now, the ending. I know it has become almost the norm to bash Stephen King’s endings, and I had problem’s with the ending to Andy Muschietti’s IT: Chapter Two, which came out only this September, I have to say, I thoroughly enjoyed the ending of Doctor Sleep. While it annoyed me slightly that Dan had perished in the Overlook, I recognised that as unimportant compared to the beauty of the ending. It does what no one ever thought possible: it reconciles King with Kubrick. By giving the original ending to The Shining, where the adult male Torrance goes down to the Boiler room and lets it explode to save someone they care about heals the split between these two which have been at loggerheads for so long. It also is in keeping with one of King’s most pervasive narrative devices, the cyclical narrative, while also still promulgating one of the novel’s key themes: the ties that bind the Torrances, and other people together, this idea that is espoused in the novel by Dick Hallorann himself of there always being someone to pass the torch onto. And we can see this at the end, too, when Abra goes into the bathroom to deal with the ghostly Mrs Massey, directly paralleling the movie’s opening scene with Danny.

Overall, Doctor Sleep, is a thoroughly enjoyable film, with a distinctive visual and narrative style which captures the spirit of King’s novel, while also paying respect to what has come before it. Well worth the price of admission.

My rating: 8.5/10

[randomwordsandstormydays]

The One Where Garrett Meets Andrew

Have some more backstory for my Brotherhood OC: Garrett Thomas.

The quiet clearing of a throat from behind him causes Garrett to drop the blow torch he’s currently using to weld two finicky pieces of metal together. Luckily for him, and his uninvited guest, the safety features on the equipment shut off the light blue flame as soon as his fingers slide off of the grip. Still, he’s annoyed, and his annoyance transfers to the person who interrupted his work.

Garrett retrieved the torch from the floor before turning around to address the intruder. Standing across the workshop from him is a man, blond hair, dark eyes, and a deep scar down the side of his neck. The stranger is attractive, Garrett notices, but even still he came into his work space, uninvited, which could have come with serious consequences. His guest’s charming smile does little to quiet the voice in his head that wants to yell at the man to leave.

He places the torch back into it’s storage compartment before lowering his bandana from his mouth and sliding his welding gogglesonto the top of his head. “Can I help you?” The question isn’t asked nicely, but the blond’s smile doesn’t falter, if anything it widens.

“I was told that you take your meal down here and not in the mess hall,” it’s only then that Garrett notices the metal container which symbolizes his dinner, “I’m new, and not authorized to handle the food yet so I was told to bring this to you.”

Garrett’s stomach clenches at the thought of food and suddenly he can’t help but notice that he’s starving. Often times he gets so caught up in his work that hours go by, and he doesn’t eat, drink, or even use the bathroom unless someone interrupts his focus. He feels a little bad for snapping earlier, but he’s not the type to apologize.

“Thanks.”

The container is warm, which means that blondie didn’t wait before bringing him his food, which is what his normal delivery guy does. He peels back the lid and inhales deeply as the hot steam rises to meet him. He breathes in the scent of roasted potatoes, grilled radstag, and gravy, his favorite.

“Scribe Taylor prepared the meal tonight, I’ve been told he’s the best.”

This is new. Usually Scribe Davers drops off his food and leaves, he’s never tried to initiate conversation before. This new Scribe, who’s name he still doesn’t know, is standing with his hands behind his back, rocking slightly on his heels like he has no intention of leaving. It makes Garrett uncomfortable. Everyone knows that he’s antisocial, and prefers to work with metal and wires over faking pleasant conversation with other members of the Brotherhood. It was his dedication to his craft that got him promoted to Knight, not his communication skills.

He fumbles with a reply. “Uh, I guess. Never really know who’s cooking. I just eat what I’m given.”

The Scribe seems shocked at his response, he stops rocking and his mouth opens slightly, just barely parting, which means he must know of Garrett’s reputation. Instead of continuing to acknowledge the man’s presence, Garrett turns back to his work bench and begins to clear some space so he can eat. He turns to find a chair and is surprised to see that his dinner-bringer is still there.

“Can I help you?” He repeats his question from earlier, having already used most of his conversation skills on discussing his food.

“Not particularly, but bringing you your food was my last tasking for the day, so I figure, what’s the rush to leave?” He finishes his statement with a shrug of his shoulders, much too relaxed and casual for Garrett’s taste.

“Listen,” Garrett sighs as he places his food on the table, “I don’t know if you haven’t heard, or if you just don’t care, but I don’t really do the whole ‘social interaction’ thing”, he punctuates the last two words with air quotes, “so thank you for my food, but you can go now.” He doesn’t imagine the way the man’s eyes dim or the dropping of his shoulders, or the way his smile is wiped completely from his face, and for some reason the realization that he’s disappointed the other man makes him itchy, like he has to retract what he said just so the man will smile. What is wrong with him?

“Oh,” the word isn’t so much spoken as it is released on an exhale, “I’ll, um, just leave then.” The man glances up to make eye contact, gives what appears to be a forced smile. “Enjoy your meal.” He leaves without another word.

Garrett turns back to his food, but his stomach rolls with an unfamiliar feeling. Regret? Remorse? Shame? He doesn’t know, but it means that when he goes to eat, the food doesn’t taste as good as it should.

The next day, the Scribe returns.

This time Garrett isn’t knee-deep in metal and fire, which means he’s not surprised when a knock sounds at the door. He is surprised, however, to see the new cook again.

“Hi there, I’ve got your lunch,” he presents the metal container like a present, and Garrett takes it eagerly. A quick glance reveals mutfruit, razorgrain bread, and dried Brahmin jerky, “also I realized I never told you my name,” he holds out his hand, “I’m Scribe Andrew Parker.”

Garrett eyes the hand like it might infect him. He doesn’t shake it, instead he turns and walks away. “Yeah, I’m Knight Thomas. Thanks for the food.”

Scribe Parker follows him to the table and takes a seat. “Um, what do you think you’re doing?”

Andrew shrugs and settles into the chair. “I want to get to know you. I don’t have many friends yet, and I have officially taken over for Scribe Davers,” he smiles wide, “so we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other.”

Garrett doesn’t really have a response to that, and he feels like nothing he says is going to convince this new recruit that his presence isn’t welcomed. He’s convinced that after a few days Andrew will get bored of him and his lack of caring.

“Good luck with that.” Is his only response before he begins to eat him lunch.

Scribe Parker is not deterred and over the course of the next month he manages to coax what could possible be considered aquatenceship with Garrett. Garrett, in turn, actually finds himself looking forward to the cook’s visits, and not just because the other man brings him food. Slowly, but surely, he opens up to Andrew about his past, his job, his goals, and in turn he gets the Scribe’s entire life story, which he actually tries to remember.

Then, one day, their relationship changes.

It starts like any other interaction, Andrew drops of Garrett’s food, but instead of leaving he stays to chat, following Garrett to his table and starting to talk.

“So, Knight Thomas,” he pauses long enough to sit down and lean forward on his elbows, “I have a question for you.” Garrett takes a bite of his food and hums in response, unable to answer with his mouth full. “Do you want to go on a date sometime?”

The immediate inhalation that that questions prompts sends the dry bread straight to the back of Garrett’s throat. This, in turn, sends him into a choking fit, complete with chest pounding and teary eyes. By the time he can speak Scribe Parker is looking at with concern, half out of his seat and arm raised towards Garrett like he wants to help.

“What did you just say?” His throat is raw from coughing and he reaches for a can of purified water to soothe the pain.

Andrew waits for him to finish drinking before responding, “I asked if you wanted to go on a date with me.”

“That’s what I thought you said.”

That gets him a wide smile. “And?”

Garrett swallows, then clears his throat. “I don’t really… do dates.” He feels his cheeks flood with heat. It wasn’t as if he had never found anyone attractive before, but his lack of social skills and his preference for solitude didn’t exactly pave the way for a lot of romantic options. More often than not he’d chicken out long before he gathered the courage to even speak to someone he was interested in.

The one time Garrett managed to ask a fellow Knight out for drinks, she turned him down harshly enough that he never really tried again. It wasn’t her fault that he was awkward and conversationally inept, but she could have been nicer with her rejection. There had been no reason for her to imply that he wasn’t dateable, even if she followed it up with an invitation to her bed.

After that he stopped trying to get dates, one night stands and flings were good enough for Garrett, there was almost no need for talking and he was better with his hands anyways.

That gets him a thoughtful look before he asks, “so you’ve never been on a date?” Garrett shakes his head slowly, embarrassed by the admission. Scribe Parker’s eyes widen a bit. “Well, I’d like to take you on one, if you’d like.”

The silence stretches between them as Garrett considers this. He likes Andrew, finds him funny, interesting, and attractive. They get along, no one else has had the patience to actually break through the walls that Garrett had constructed to keep people away. He doesn’t have to wonder if Scribe Parker feels the same, since he’s the one initiating the romantic scenario, yet he still finds himself nervous. What if it’s a joke, or a ploy? Andrew has never done anything to insult or hurt him before, but that doesn’t mean that this isn’t some elaborate bet between the cooks or Andrew’s other friends.

But Garrett wants to say yes. Wouldn’t mind going out with Andrew, both of them dressed in civilians, getting to know each other outside of Garrett’s humid, dingy workroom. It’s not often that he finds himself wanting something enough to put himself at risk of getting hurt, and he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity for something good.

Andrew’s happy look is gone by the time Garrett responds, and he knows that it’s because of how long he took to reply. It comes back full force when Garrett gives a tentative smile and says, “okay.”

The next time Garrett sees Andrew they’re both in clean, nice clothes, and he doesn’t think he’s been this happy in a while. Their night out ends with a kiss and Garrett finds his cheeks hurting hours later, when he can’t seem to stop himself from smiling.

- - -

Click here to go back to my OC writings master list.

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 3x01-- The One About The Recent Troubles

HI GUYS I WROTE A LOT 

New season, new naming convention. Well, it’s either that or Diane Lockhart’s joined a reboot of Friends. Jokes aside, I don’t love the new naming convention (I never watched Friends) but I don’t dislike it either. It’s fine. What I do like is that we’ve dropped any sort of counting (unless you consider “the one” counting). (I am just now realizing that last season’s episode titles were more in the TGW tradition than I thought-- they were just another form of counting). Three seasons in, TGF is its own show (with its own titles!), and that makes me very happy.

I’m about to hit play on my third viewing of this episode. I watched at 5 am on the day it was released (worth it, tbh), then again with my roommate after work that same day.

This year’s previously montage works better than last year’s, but I still don’t love it. The selection of clips seems a little random at first: Liz talking about her father? The Assholes to Avoid case that I was hoping to avoid thinking about ever again? Okay…?

It’s time for some tone-setting! “I’m happy,” Diane states as the season opens. She’s in bed with Kurt, waking up in the morning. This is one of those statements that becomes important mostly because it’s so prominent. I believe that Diane’s happy with her life and happy waking up next to her husband, but I don’t think Diane is trying to make a Thesis Statement. I think she’s just expressing that she feels good. The writers, however, definitely want us to note that Diane starts out the season in a good, happy place. This is because they are going to slowly complicate and destroy Diane’s happiness. That’s not a spoiler-- it’s a prediction.

Kurt laughs. “You like narrating your life,” he comments. Interesting.

“You know, there are psychological studies that say, when people are happy, they look desperately for things to make them unhappy. But that won’t happen to us, will it?” Diane wonders. Of course it will. I know these writers. If there’s one thing they hate it’s writing more than a few scenes of a healthy marriage.

Diane and Kurt’s new bedroom confuses me. It has an arch that seems very low and I can’t tell if that’s the angle or not. Also, we only see the area with the bed, the bathroom, and a large sitting room in this episode. It would make sense for Diane to have a bedroom suite and a separate living room/dining room/kitchen, but the way this episode is shot makes it feel like Diane and Kurt only have that one space.

Now Diane’s asking Kurt for reassurance that everything’s going to be alright, and she seems moderately worried that he doesn’t sound certain when he responds. Maybe there are still some issues there…?

“What could go wrong?” Kurt asks, and right on cue, shit starts to blow up. (By which I mean the title sequence rolls.)

New objects/shots this year include: A tea set, aerial shots of a wine bottle, coffee cups (they discovered aerial shots this year and clearly liked them a lot), the same four purses from last year but arranged differently (looks cooler now), new images on the TV (bye, tiki torch nazis), and the entire set where they staged the explosions.

The third co-creator is still listed, because his name will be attached to this show for as long as it runs, but I really want to know: what did Phil Alden Robinson even do to create the show? Invent the basic sketch of the premise and the new characters? Just today I saw him credited in an article praising season 3, and it’s my understanding that he hasn’t even touched TGF since the pilot, back before the Kings signed on.

The Kings wrote this episode, but I didn’t need the credits to tell me that. Robert directed, too, which is only surprising because I wasn’t sure if it would be him or if it would be Brooke Kennedy.

Complaining about this now before I get any farther into the episode: CBS, FIX YOUR CLOSED CAPTIONING. Someone over at All Access doesn’t believe in apostrophes and it’s driving me up a wall.

After the credits, we resume with Julius talking about Carl Reddick, founding partner of RBL and civil rights icon. Julius has to be prompted to add on that last part, but Lucca doesn’t: she read about Reddick in history books.

Lucca’s dress for the interview shouldn’t work, but she pulls it off. It has several different colors and patterns, big gold buttons, and a ruffle down one side.

Here’s Liz’s comment on her father: “When my father died, I could think of no better way to honor his life than by taking over his partnership here.” We know that’s only partially true.

Next up is Reddick’s secretary of 15 years. She refers to him as “Mr. Reddick” instead of “Carl” and seems uncomfortable talking about her experience. Jay and Marissa, who have for some reason been tasked with creating promotional materials for the firm, notice her hesitance. Marissa asks what a typical day was like, and the secretary-- Cynthia-- starts to cry.

Cut to the RBL website, which is very boring and generic. “Who are you?” a publicity consultant asks Adrian and Liz. This reminds me of two things: one, Diane and Will’s conversation in season 4 about firm identity, and two, the fact that Hitting the Fan started off with the line “You’re stable.” Isn’t that very reminiscent of this episode starting off with, “I’m happy.”?! Yikes, we must be in for a ride…

Adrian’s answer is that they are a “mid-size Chicago law firm.” Really? That’s all you’ve got? The consultant pushes further-- he wants their story. Liz says their story is that they’re growing with new hires and a new floor. The consultant isn’t happy with that, either, because he seems to believe there’s only one right answer: they’re an African American firm, and that is their entire identity. Ugh.

When TGF first started, RBK felt like a firm that had an identity  and a mission-- a commitment to giving black lawyers opportunities for success in an environment where no one would be a token, coupled with a strong focus on civil rights cases (particularly police brutality cases). I assumed that was the shared goal of Carl, Adrian, and Barbara, but the firm’s gone through enough changes that I’m willing to accept that RBL might now be struggling for an identity. Carl’s dead, Barbara was always the one who would actually put her money where her mouth is (sorry, Adrian), Diane is (as always) interested in being profitable while looking like a liberal legend, and Liz accepted partnership because it was a lucrative offer that fell into her lap right when she lost her job at the DOJ.

Adrian says he doesn’t want RBL to be sold as an African American law firm. Hasn’t he pitched it as such in the past?

“Diversity is in right now. Black Panther. Black-ish. And diversity is something you have in sp-- in abundance,” the consultant says. My God, he’s terrible. He’s also using “diverse” and “black” as interchangeable words.

Adrian gets a reprieve when Jay and Marissa call him out of his meeting, but it doesn’t last long. Cynthia, Carl’s secretary, told Jay and Marissa that Carl repeatedly sexually assaulted her.

“He forced her for 15 years? Why would Cynthia stay for 15 years?” Adrian asks incredulously. “Seriously?” Marissa replies. Woah there. I agree wholeheartedly with Marissa but just because I’d write “SERIOUSLY?” in a recap doesn’t mean I’d ever say it to a name partner with that tone! (But really: Marissa’s very right. “Why would she stay?” is a terrible argument. Cynthia had bills to pay and a family (or at least a daughter) to care for. She likely didn’t have the luxury of looking for a new job. And that’s setting aside the fact that for decades, language around sexual assault wasn’t widely known!)

Adrian asks Marissa and Jay to keep quiet, and Marissa pushes back, asking if it’s so they can cover it up. Marissa! You’re not helping your cause here!

“Marissa, I don’t have the luxury right now of being outraged. That doesn’t mean I’m not outraged,” Adrian explains.

In the hallway, Jay suggests that Marissa give Adrian (and Carl) a break, since the Reddick name brings in half of their business, and if Reddick’s name becomes toxic, the firm could be in trouble. “Well, then, maybe it should be,” Marissa responds.

I loooooooove Diane’s new hairstyle! It’s been ten years; it’s time for a change.

Diane is about to head into the office when she notices Kurt went hunting the previous night with a gun he hates. And to make matters worse, there are blonde hairs on his jacket and Kurt won’t admit he went shooting with anyone. Well, I guess Diane’s happiness didn’t last very long at all.

Maia has a scratched cornea, so she’s wearing big sunglasses. “I wouldn’t wear those when you meet with the partners,” Marissa says, planting a bad idea in Maia’s mind. The sunglasses take two seconds to explain, and no one is going to fault her for this. If Maia didn’t get fired for not doing any work over a two year period, she’s going to be just fine wearing medically-required sunglasses to an internal meeting.

Julius wants to talk to Maia and explains that on the new website, they’re adding associate and partner bios. They just might not be adding Maia’s. “Don’t take it as a criticism. You’re doing a great job,” Julius says. This is basically the only circumstance in which I understand giving Maia praise: trying to keep her from causing a scene by stroking her ego.

Since Maia took off her sunglasses, she now appears to be crying. Since Maia lacks common sense, she does not explain why she is crying, leading Julius to keep heaping on the praise and explain the obvious (it’s about her parents’ scandal). Maia says she understands and that “this is all medical.” THAT’S SO VAGUE, MAIA. You’re looking for the sentence you just said to Marissa: “I have a scratched cornea.” I know this moment is supposed to be funny. It just makes Maia look impressionable (she took off the glasses) and slow (she can’t easily navigate out of this situation when the exit route is obvious). I already think Maia is both of those things, so I’m not complaining about this scene (I did laugh!), it’s just…  Maia, why???

Julius is so confused by Maia’s odd reaction that he goes straight to Lucca’s office. Lucca is pumping and doesn’t care who sees, because she’s the fucking best. Julius asks Lucca to talk to Maia about the website.

Diane’s still thinking about the hair when she arrives at RBL. Marissa greets her with an empty mug, I mean, with coffee. Diane asks what Adrian wants to talk to her about, and Marissa says, “I’ve been told I speak too much, so I won’t handle that.” If Marissa weren’t so good at her job she’d need to watch out.

Marissa tries to join Adrian and Diane’s meeting, and Adrian slowly closes the door in her face. Marissa walks away. I love it when this show emphasizes that their main players aren’t all of equal status at the firm, and this episode does a fantastic job of showing it.

Adrian explains the Reddick issue to Diane. He’s (wisely) chosen to go to Diane before Liz about this.

Adrian’s plan is to have Cynthia sign an NDA, and now there’s a “Good Fight Short” to educate us about NDAs. God, this show is weird and I love it.

“Think they’re maybe always in a red folder but I didn’t do my research that well” cracks me up.

“Let’s try to count all the red folders in the show today. You know what who cares just pay attention, put your phone away,” the song continues. Okay, show, I’ll listen to you and put my phone (on which I’m watching this show) away and go run my errands. That’s what you wanted, right?

A storm rolls in as Adrian and Diane pay Cynthia a visit. Thunder is dramatic, in case you were unaware.

Adrian tells Cynthia he knew nothing about Reddick’s behavior. He reaches for the NDA a little too quickly and Diane slows things down.

Adrian promises they’ll have sexual harassment training moving forward. Cynthia reminds him that they’ve always had that-- but partners never attended. Or, apparently, remembered that it existed.

Diane and Adrian hear pots and pans banging in the kitchen and realize that Cynthia’s daughter is home. That complicates things because the daughter anticipates the NDA and doesn’t want her mom to sign.

When Cynthia leaves the room, Adrian comments to Diane that “this house, it reminds me of my aunty’s house.” Diane just smiles, probably because that’s a reference she can’t understand.

The partners hold a secret meeting without Liz, which is certainly a way to handle this but probably not the optimal way. Liz should know what’s going on before any NDAs concerning her firm are created.

Liz notices that the offices are empty, and asks Marissa (who’s walking past) where everyone is. “I have no idea. I’m just staying on the sidelines today,” Marissa says unhelpfully. Great attitude. Very professional. As you’d expect, Liz is not satisfied with that answer.

Downstairs, the MANY partners of RBL are debating next steps. Why do they always pack these partner meeting scenes with so damn many extras? How many partners am I meant to believe they have?!

As we learned in the Assholes to Avoid episode, the most interesting thing about #MeToo is that it’s controversial and leads people to talk over each other. That’s what’s happening in this scene, but it works far better than the show’s last attempt at showing this idea. Unsurprisingly, when they have more to say than just “controversial topic is controversial” they do better.

And, I’m not sure where to put it so I’ll just say it here, I think the Kings have more to say about #MeToo, and a new (and better) angle on it because it hit closer to home. This plot isn’t a reenactment of what happened with Moonves, but the ideas it explores? Once you think about Moonves and the role he had in bringing TGW to life (and keeping it on the air), it’s all you’ll see. This plot is the Kings reckoning with how to move forward and create distance after a powerful man in no small part responsible for their own success turns out to be a serial harasser.

And that’s so much more interesting than “what if we took the Aziz Ansari thing but removed all nuance?” TGW, and TGF, wouldn’t have existed without Les Moonves. I’m pretty certain I’ve heard the Kings and Julianna-- and probably other cast members-- speak glowingly about him (before the allegations, obvs). He allowed TGW to flourish (and TGF to exist, which is kind of amazing when you think about it) while also enabling sexual assault all throughout CBS.  

The reason for this meeting? Now they want to pay Cynthia off. Diane suggests letting the story surface, emphasizing that Carl did good things and bad things. Diane also, wisely, notes that if they pay someone off, then it becomes the whole firm’s problem. But it seems they might have already paid someone off, so it’s too little, too late. RBK had, in 2012, agreed to cover all of Reddick’s sexual harassment suits. (This is, apparently, “standard” for CEOs, barf.)

I’d still like to dig into Diane’s “just own it” idea a little more, but I do see why the other partners (the ones who were actually there for the bulk of the time Reddick was) shut it down.

Then Wendy, the stenographer, speaks up: Carl Reddick assaulted her, too. If there are two, there are more than two, and I’m surprised that Liz is the first person to suggest this.

At home, later, Diane scrolls through Netflix (not a streaming site, this is Netflix’s layout with different shows), unable to decide what to watch. I’m sad to report none of the fake shows are any fun, and none of them are Darkness at Noon. I guess Darkness at Noon is probably on AMC All Access, behind a paywall…

Kurt arrives home and asks what Diane’s doing. “Figuring out whether to watch a German series about serial killers or a Scandinavian series about serial killers,” Diane replies. Haven’t we all been there? That’s scrolling through Netflix in one sentence.

Diane has “helped” Kurt pack for a trip, and THANK GOD, she’s not kicking him out (that’s how scenes where the husband arrives home to find his bags packed always go). She’s passive-aggressively packing for his upcoming trip she discovered on their credit card account.

Kurt’s going on a safari. Diane says she doesn’t shoot anymore (I guess since 2x10?) and wants to know who Kurt’s going with. Shouldn’t Kurt be telling Diane if he’s going to go on a safari?

Kurt senses something’s up and asks what’s wrong. Diane says work has her thinking about “men.” Then she tells Kurt she doesn’t think he’s being honest and says she doesn’t like pretending to be the “cool wife who overlooks lies.” Is “Cool Wife” a variation of “Cool Girl” and if so, can we get a Gillian Flynn novel about it, please?

Finally, the truth emerges: Kurt isn’t hiding an affair (though Diane briefly suspects he’s seeing someone named “Holly Westfall” again… idk, have we ever heard that name? Nothing’s coming to mind, because Kurt never cheated on Diane and Peter’s trial never happened.). He’s giving private shooting lessons to 45’s sons.

My GOD, Diane’s reaction.

I love how every time Diane says “safari” she says it with a little more disbelief in her voice.

Kurt says this is just a job; he’s being paid. Can he take someone else’s money then? How strapped for cash is he? This is like the “we’re defense attorneys!” line Diane always goes back to. SURE, but you don’t have to take EVERY case to be profitable.

Diane proceeds to start BANGING HER HEAD AGAINST THE WALL, REPEATEDLY. This scene is simultaneously comedic, dramatic, and ridiculous and I love it. I’m not sure how it manages to feel far-fetched and also character-driven at the same time, but hey, it works.

Diane storms out, saying she’s going to do something she should’ve done nine months ago: conjure up space bugs. Okay, no, she’s making contact with her FuzzyFuzzyCuteCute friend, but she’s doing so in a way that involves moving lots of flowers to her windowsill, and THAT’S HOW YOU DRAW IN THE SPACE BUGS.

In case I haven’t said it enough times, TGF in some ways seems more like it’s a continuation of BrainDead than TGW.

Diane talks to Tara and asks her to break her NDA (some legal nonsense) and come forward with allegations that 45 paid for her abortion. Tara asks Diane why now, and Diane’s answer is kind of bullshit: “because now it’s personal.” And it wasn’t before?! And that matters?! (I believe it from Diane, but come on. You need it to be personal to fight this as hard as you can? The fact that this administration’s policies are having catastrophic effects on families isn’t enough?)

Adrian finally shows Liz the interview with Cynthia, and Audra McDonald could win an Emmy for her reaction shots alone (I can’t say enough times how pleased I am with the addition of Liz). Adrian draws the curtains of Will’s office, I mean Liz’s office, to give them some privacy. Good move.

Liz wants to know if Adrian knew, and she has good reasons to believe he might have. For one, when they were married, Adrian asked how her parents were doing-- suggesting they might have reason to not be doing so well.

Liz goes into her bathroom (first time we’ve seen this set, though we’ve obviously known it existed from ~Willicia sexytimes~) (Not to derail this recap entirely, but does anyone else ever wonder how Willicia would’ve played in this day and age? I wouldn’t consider it assault or harassment because it was obviously consensual, but I don’t know that you can do a boss/employee romance plot as easily today as you could in 2011.)

Liz, through tears, confesses that her father didn’t always treat her mom (or “us”-- I assume meaning Liz and any siblings she may have) well. She’d always rationalized it as the part of “sharing him with the world” while he was “fighting,” but “he was just here.” God, this is devastating, and this scene is spectacularly done.

Adrian tries to comfort Liz, but she realizes something: Adrian put in the glass walls. She wants to know why. Was he trying to force Carl to be more transparent about something? Liz remembers her dad complaining about the glass walls. Adrian says it was just a design choice. Liz doesn’t believe it, but she’s moved on to other things. She’s putting on her jacket and trying to decide her next move. She angrily opens up the curtains even though she’s about to leave her office (just to show that she values transparency) and marches down to the partner’s meeting.

Everyone quiets down when Liz walks in. She grabs a notepad and a chair and begins to take an active role in negotiating payouts. Julius mentions Wendy, and Liz didn’t know about Wendy yet. Her reaction? A long pause, and then: “My dad raped the stenographer?”

Have I mentioned yet that Audra’s great? She delivers the line with a fantastic blend of anger and resignation. And I love the line itself, particularly the use of the word “rape.” Aside from Cynthia’s daughter, Liz is the first person in the episode to call Carl’s actions what they are, and it’s meaningful to hear the word from her. Liz isn’t shying away from what her father did; she is trying to figure out how to name it and address it. Pretty remarkable.

Liz volunteers to make the deal with Cynthia. She immediately begins to ask Jay for help, but she thinks again and goes to Marissa instead (and says “rape” again) to find out if there are any others. Adrian and Diane should’ve had Marissa on this yesterday.

LUCCA!!!!!!!!!!

Sorry I’m just happy to see Lucca Quinn, who is the best and does not get nearly enough screentime. Because Lucca is the best, she’s meeting with the partners. She thinks something must be wrong-- that she’s about to be fired (no!!! I don’t even like thinking about that!!). But nothing is wrong. “In fact, consider this a promotion,” Adrian says. He offers Lucca the position of head of divorce law. (What are the odds we get through this arc without a cameo from David Lee?)

People who know more about the law than I do, is this even remotely plausible? Shouldn’t this be Lucca’s specialty if we’re going to see her head it up? Have we ever seen her on a divorce case?

The guy they had hired to head up divorce law had “harassment issues at his last firm.” “And that’s a problem these days?” Lucca jokes, not knowing just how bad her timing is. No one else laughs. (I! Love! Scenes! That! Show! That! Some! Of! The! Characters! Are! Junior! Staff!)

Lucca does not seem to want this promotion, but she realizes she’s being told, not asked.

Meanwhile, Maia’s spending her work day staring at the company website. Adrian stops by to see her (guess Lucca didn’t talk to her) and console her about the website. Maia now chooses to explain her scratched cornea. She doesn’t explain it clearly, so Adrian continues with his speech. “This is not a reflection of how we feel about you. It’s a branding thing.”

I suppose the same could also be said of the fact that the main poster for this season of TGF features Diane, Adrian, and Lucca when the first two seasons had posters featuring Diane, Maia, and Lucca. Maia adds less value, to the show and to the firm!!!!!

(I don’t hate this Maia plot, I just think it’s silly and unnecessary, and Maia’s still done nothing to prove to me that she’s interested in her job and/or good at it.)

“You keep up the good work,” Adrian says. Forget good work. What WORK?

The partners fussing over the website has made it a Big Deal for Maia, and now she’s pissed! Luckily, Marissa’s there to teach her how to be a badass.

“I’m a third year associate, and they are treating me like I was hired yesterday,” Maia fumes. Well, are you doing the work of a third year associate, or are you doing the “work” of a new hire who hasn’t yet been staffed on projects and just stares at the company website all day? Hmmmmm?

Marissa blames this on “the curse of short people.” Is Maia short? She’s never seemed short. Rose Leslie is, according to Google, 5’6”, which is hardly short! Then Marissa starts rambling about “the volcano of Vulcan” and, whatever, Marissa, I think Maia’s problem is that she has scumbag parents, not that she’s short.

Marissa’s advice-- which is basically to be more confident-- isn’t bad advice. But that’s not why Maia’s not on the website. Maia could be Lucca levels of incredible and her name would still look toxic on the website.

Maia’s so awkward she makes me look confident.

Marissa commands a “tall lady” not to wash her hands after using the bathroom and what, that’s gross, why are you doing this Marissa?

Marissa has a gift for Maia: Sunglasses that are “cool.” Marissa then breaks the doctor-approved sunglasses. Seems… unwise.

New, cool Maia gets a theme song and a leather jacket. She makes quite an impression on the image consultant in the elevator, and he asks her out. She rejects him. Ha ha.

Liz and Jay head to Cynthia’s next. They remember meeting each other before. Liz mentions the NDA, and Cynthia responds, “Your father wasn’t a bad man.” “I don’t understand how you can feel that way after everything that he did,” Liz replies.

Liz seems like she’s close to getting a signature on the NDA when Naomi Nivola, the reporter from 2x05, appears at her door asking about sexual harassment. Cynthia’s daughter tipped her off. I’m very happy to see Naomi again, not because I think she’s a wonderful character but because I thought Adrian’s “starfucking” excuse was too weak of a conclusion to her plotline last season. I’m almost glad to know she still holds a grudge, because it doesn’t let Adrian off the hook for some shitty behavior. Adrian isn’t Carl Reddick levels of disgusting but he’s done some troublesome things (and the way he talks to the female characters is a little condescending, no??)

(I went to re-read my thoughts on 2x05 and Naomi as I was writing this, and apparently I said I thought an episode about NDAs as they relate to #MeToo would be interesting. Hah!)

It’s still raining.

“I’ll talk to Naomi, find out what she knows,” Adrian decides. “You?! No,” Liz replies. Adrian actually asks why not!!!

Liz goes to settle with the stenographer next, and, again, she insists on doing it herself.

Maia is holding an NDA and sitting out at one of the associate desks, surrounded by a bunch of black men (does the firm have female associates?). Maia’s holding a red folder, and while that should mean she’s working on a case, she probably just picked it up because it was BOLD LIKE HER. What are work files if not accessories to make you look badass?

Maia’s also got her feet up on the desk. YOU’RE AT WORK, GIRL.

Julius asks Maia to move her feet. “Yeah? What do you need?” she replies. Julius is too stunned to actually play rank. Maia takes this as a victory. She shouldn’t. She can do this once, maybe twice, before it stops being cute and confusing and starts looking like what it is: an entitled white girl acting out and being disrespectful. If she wants to create distance from her parents’ scandal-- the actual issue here-- then she needs to be mature and develop a plan to work around it. She could, for example, take on lots of charity work and write an op-ed about deciding to help turn her dad in, and what she’s learned about the world from having her world crash down. Acting out in designer boots, red lipstick, and sunglasses is going to make Maia look like the oblivious child of privilege she is.

Why does this show insist on saying that Maia’s biggest weakness is her lack of boldness? She’s just awkward. She’s plenty confident. She just expresses it poorly.

I know this is a comedic subplot but Maia does not really behave like a human being??? Who would have that interaction and then feel self-satisfied? This is her place of work!!! She looks ridiculous!! She just talked back to a partner!!

Wendy doesn’t want to sign the NDA, and she doesn’t want any money. She says she’ll never tell anyone, because “there are so many people who want to destroy men. Black men.” And she doesn’t want to be a part of it. Interesting perspective, not one I agree with but one I’m pleased the writers included because it adds some nuance to the episode’s exploration of #MeToo.

Naomi and Jay talk in a not-very-interesting scene that includes some weird and unnecessary close ups of Jay. Main takeaway: Naomi thinks it’s Adrian who assaulted Cynthia.

Don’t really get why it’s great that Naomi thinks it’s Adrian. I suppose she’s a good enough journalist she wouldn’t publish a story there was no evidence for, but Adrian being able to deny it without lying hardly seems like cause for celebration. And would Naomi really drop it if Adrian said he didn’t rape anyone?

Eric and Don bailed on the safari, so Kurt’s still around. He winces when Diane hugs him, and Diane doesn’t let it slip. Kurt, being Kurt, says nothing is wrong.

He goes to the bathroom, and Diane’s phone rings. It’s Tara saying she won’t come forward.

Diane joins Kurt in the bathroom (lots of scenes in bathrooms this ep) and notices he has a huge bruise on his shoulder because Eric or Don shot him. We don’t get to find out-- and neither does Diane-- because Kurt’s signed an NDA about the incident. HAHAHA!

Adrian has his interview with Naomi. He denies they’ve asked Cynthia to sign an NDA, and denies he harassed her. And that’s it, until Naomi reveals THE REAL STORY: Assholes to Avoid.

I wonder, IRL, how much this would hurt the firm. I also am still not sure why they took that damn case. 2x05 and whichever ep was Assholes (I mentioned I’m glad we’re not counting days anymore, right?) annoyed me more than basically any other s2 episode because they were tied up so neatly, so I’m happy to see both cases come back to complicate things.

Now shit gets weird. I assume this next scene is one of the “soliloquies” the Kings mentioned that the season would include, and I like the idea more than the execution. The characters taking turns verbalizing their inner thoughts in eloquent speeches to no one? Sure! I’m down! Diane suddenly beginning to talk to a Trump-shaped bruise THAT MOVES AND TALKS in the middle of an episode? I’ll just say I hope they’re not all like this.

“The footman to the king. I am married to the footman to the king,” Diane starts. Then TrumpBruise talks back (don’t love this impersonation). I think this would work just fine as a monologue, and I definitely don’t need the animation. I couldn’t see it the first time through and the episode was better for it.

Anyway, Diane’s upset that Kurt’s become a worthless servant to a family she loathes, and she connects this to her ongoing thoughts on the State of Masculinity.

“What has happened to men? Where did the real guys go? Why do we now have these snide little creatures with slicked-back hair and cologne? What happened to Paul Newman and Burt Lancaster? What happened to men who were slow to anger and responsible and who didn’t cry like whiny little bitches? When did Trump and Kavanaugh become our idea of an aggrieved man, quivering lips, blaming everyone but themselves? You’re not fit to kiss my husband’s feet. A truthful man, uncomplaining, never passing the buck, never punching unless he’s punched. When did he become the exception?” Okay. But toxic masculinity is not a new thing. This isn’t insightful enough for me to applaud it and it’s not offensive/wrong enough for me to actually want to dissect it. I like that the show’s taking risks and like the soliloquy idea but this is… meh.

Bruise starts talking about how happy he is. He’s taunting Diane (well, technically, Diane is criticizing herself) because she was happy earlier, and now she’s not and this asshole Bruise is sooooo happy.

So Diane’s solution is to leak Tara’s abortion. Interestingly, she imagines TrumpBruise calling her out on breaking Tara’s confidence. Implying that Bruise has a conscience (or enough savvy to push her buttons), even one fueled by Diane’s imagination, feels weird to me. Diane’s imagining Bruise has a conscience?!

FRANCESCA IS STILL AROUND!!! My wish to ditch Colin and keep his mom came true!

Francesa is singing “I Wanna Be Sedated” to her grandson. Of course she is.

I’m unclear on a few things with this scene: who is Francesca talking to? Does Francesca know them? This must be Lucca’s house (?) if Francesca is leaving and taking calls for Lucca, but why does Lucca have a land line, and why would a client be calling her on it?

Francesca has an Instagram. God, I would love it if that account existed.

Lucca’s baby is really cute. What’s the kid’s name? Is it Joseph?

Francesca tells Lucca she’s the perfect divorce lawyer. Anyone else feel like we missed a scene or three with this Lucca/divorce law plot? Why would Francesca say that? Does she know about the opportunity? Was Lucca working divorce cases and doing great? MORE LUCCA NOW.

Maia’s still wearing her sunglasses the next day (unclear if this is for medical reasons or because she doesn’t know when to just stop). She’s sitting in on a meeting of the partners about the new Assholes scandal.

Adrian says they need to get their story straight, that they didn’t know they were taking down the site. That’s blatantly false, and Maia speaks up to say so. Adrian says they didn’t. Um, they did. Julius asks Maia to step out, and Lucca, who has a seat at the table, defends Maia. Julius says “this should be a partner thing” and Maia gets up to leave. Lucca, who is also not a partner unless we did, indeed, miss multiple Lucca scenes, asks Maia for her opinion.

On her way out, Maia says RBL should “own it. Our client wanted us to take down a #MeToo site. We didn’t agree, but we took it down. Because we’re that good.” Meh. That’s really the only way out of this. But as a client, I would not be reassured by that, especially not if I had brought my business to a firm specifically because of its values.

Adrian takes Badass!Maia’s advice, word for word. And it works. This particular client also wants to know who Maia Rindell is. He typed in ReddickBoseman.net instead of .com (but WHY) and it landed on a “really really cool” page about Maia.

Liz and Adrian immediately go to find this cool site, and Adrian shows how hip he is by typing a url in the search bar. What pops up is a site with the RBL logo and several ~fashionable~ pictures of Maia and her Miraculous Sunglasses. It’s hilariously terrible. They’re not bad pictures, but it’s sooooooooooooooooo inappropriate and ridiculous. It’s also unnecessary, and I know I’m overthinking a sight gag (and it is an effective sight gag) but if Maia wanted to be on the website that badly, she could have, you know, SAID SO instead of making a fucking website.

Lol @ Maia staging a photoshoot at the office. Why wouldn’t she?

The website has the tagline “younger-tougher-smarter”. Well, one of those things is true, and you all know which one it is.

Cynthia’s back, in the office, to sign the NDA. She does.

Marissa’s prepared her research on Carl Reddick. She leaves it with Liz, in a green folder.

Diane goes to Naomi with Tara’s story. We don’t hear her tell it, so there’s a chance she thought better of it, but omg, how shitty, Diane!!!!!

Liz and Adrian share a drink. Adrian says he did suspect that Carl might have been having an affair, he just never thought it was assault.

“Your dad was really good to me, Liz. He’s the reason I have a career,” Adrian explains. “Me too,” Liz says, raising her glass. Damn. I don’t think those words were chosen unintentionally. Lots of layers to this scene.

Adrian decides to lighten the mood by mocking the image consultant. Liz, who’s wearing heels similar to the ones Maia was wearing earlier and has her feet up just like Maia did, comes up with an identity for the firm: “We’re a firm with no past. Not anymore. We’re starting over. That’s refreshing.”

Then they toast to Peter Florrick’s State’s Attorney campaign slogan/the writer’s perpetual favorite phrase: “New beginnings.” But it’s still storming, and the folder with all of Carl Reddick’s past misdeeds is sitting feet away. Dramatic!

As the credits roll, there’s an actual count of all the red folders in the episode. Heh.

I’m very on board with this season so far. Can’t wait to see what happens next!

Couldn’t all the episodes of this show (and TGW) be called The One About the Recent Troubles, though???

[gh0stgurl]

Revenge is Calling: Part 4

Summary: Pain, Pain and more pain. That's all you have been feeling. You just want it to be over. The Vamp decides to have one last big session, but this time is different. She wants an audience.

Characters: Dean x reader, Sam, Bobby, Castiel

Word Count: 1172

Series WARNING:Angst, Language, Violence, Torture, PTSD, fluff (if you look really close)

A/N: This is Part 4. This is the one that has Torture in it please, please use extreme discretion when reading. I absolutely hated writing this part. So go ahead and hate me, I hate me too.

Series Masterlist / Tumblr Masterlist

Its been a week and a half since you were taken, 4 days since she called Bobby. You heard Dean yelling your name as you screamed out in pain from her burning you once again.

She had been torturing you on and off ever since she took you. You remember going into the bathroom at the bar. Next thing you know you were waking up with a massive headache and freezing cold water being thrown at you. You tried to move your hand, but you quickly realized the your wrists and ankles were bound. You looked up to see that you were hanging from the ceiling.

Now You have endured many beatings, cuts and, burns. She said that this was all originally meant for Dean, but once you walked into the bar. She knew that you were his girlfriend or someone who he cared about. She could smell him on You. So her plans changed.

Turns out the “case” was a trap. You were just the idiot to fall for it. Everyday you were praying that Bobby and/or Dean would find you. On the really bad days you just wished for death because then it would be all over.

You heard the door creak open. You look up to see the vamp giving you a sickening smile. Here we go again.

She walks up to you, and slaps you across the face.

“morning. I have some fun things planned for us today.” She goes to the table that’s just a few feet away. She picks up a knife, then walks back over to you.

“What are you talking about? I thought we were already having fun.” You said back to her, it was laced with sarcasm.

“Yeah I know but this time its going to be different. I want Dean to know just how much fun we are having.” She brought the knife up to your shoulder and cut open the sleeves open on your dress. She just let the dress fall off of you. She had taken off Dean’s flannel a long time ago.

You were finally able to see the extent of her torture. There were cuts, bruises and burns everywhere. You had no idea what your back looked like, you just know it wasn’t good. You could still feel the stings from where the whips she used on you hit.

She walked back over to the table. She set up a camera and a computer to do a live video. You knew that it was going to kill Dean to see you like this. One thing you could count on though was Sam’s tech skills. This dumb vamp is going to die because her own stupidity. Even if They didn’t get here in time to save you know she was going to die for sure.

Sam’s face popped up on her computer. You could see the terror run through his face once He saw you. He yelled for Dean, seconds later he and Bobby showed up, on the screen. Both of then had the same terrified look Sam did.

“Hello boys. Look Y/N we have an audience. Now lets get this party started.”

“No! Don’t you touch her you son of a bitch!”

“ Oh Dean, we are so far past that. She’s going to die and its all your fault.”

“ I’m going to find you. I’m going to kill you slowly, by the end you will be begging for death.”

“I don’t know about that, I will be gone by the time you get here. I just hope you get here in time to see her take her last breath.”

She had picked up one of the whips started swinging it at you. As soon as it made contact with your stomach you screamed. She hit you a few more times.

Dean was screaming at her to stop. Sam was working on the location from where the video was streaming from. You couldn’t even see Bobby anymore.

Once she stopped whipping you, you looked over at the computer. Dean had tears falling from his eyes, which made them well up in your too. Then you looked over to the vamp.

“please stop playing and just get it over with. I know your going to kill me. SO JUST DO IT ALREADY!” You wanted this over. You didn’t want to feel this pain anymore. You didn’t want to suffer anymore.

“honey I will kill you when IM GOOD AND READY! YOU DON’T GET TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO!”

She put the whip down only to pick up an iron rod and a blow torch. She got to work quickly, knowing Sam would get a location soon. She started burning you in random places all over your body.

Next she picked up a knife. She started cutting you over and over again. By the time she was done, you were barely hanging on. Your breathing was shallow, blood was covering most of your body. Your head was hanging because You didn’t want to see the pained look coming from your family.

“No pick up your head, and look at them. I want Dean to see what he’s done.”

“He hasn’t done anything you bitch.” You picked up your head and just starred her down.

As bad as you wanted this to be over, you needed to keep her talking. You needed to give Sam as much time as you could to find the IP address to get a location.

“This is all his fault. He’s the reason your up there, and now he’s letting you take his punishment. What kind of boyfriend does that!”

“You have no idea what kind of boyfriend Dean is. Not that you would know anything about that now would you.”

“I had one of the best boyfriends anyone could ask for” she walked over to you and punched you in the stomach. “That was until….Until....UGH!!!” she started hitting you over and over again like you were a punching bag.

Your head dropped again. Blood was dripping from your mouth. You could hear it hit the floor. The Vampire was starring at you, breathing hard like she just ran 20 miles nonstop. Only a few seconds had passed but it felt like hours.

“Sweetheart hang on please.” You could hear the pain in his voice

“I’m sorry Dean” your voice was barely loud enough to hear. Tears started falling from your eyes. You knew this was it.

“No! Y/N stay awake! I’m going to come and get you. Stay with me. Sam hurry up, she’s not going to last much longer.”

The vamp looked between you and Dean. She walked over to the computer with a sinister smile on her face. She pulls a knife from the table, waves it at the boys.

“it’s time to say goodbye Dean.”

“No!!”

The last thing he saw was her throwing a knife at you just as she cut the feed. He didn’t see where it hit. He just knew he needed to get to you now.

Series Tags:

@roseangel013bf

[freudensteins-monster]

Paint Stained Collar

Pre-Stucky White Collar AU. Also on AO3.

I somehow managed to write this while downing cold & flu meds and liberal amounts of chicken soup, which is ridiculously impressive considering how little writing I've been doing whilst healthy. Unbeta'd - All mistakes are mine and the cold virus's fault. 

The repetitive scratching of the worn-down screw against the concrete was almost hypnotic. If he hadn’t been on such a tight schedule Steve could have easily have lost himself in the process. As it was, the moment the cell doors opened he made a few hasty final touches before chucking the screw under his cot and brushed the dust from his hands onto his tired orange jumpsuit. A guard started on the roll call and Steve double checked that his only photo of his mother was in his pocket before stepping out of his cell just as his name was called, and then it was off to the mess hall for what was hopefully going to be his last breakfast of powered eggs and cold toast.

He moved his food around and tried not to be too obvious about tracking the guard’s movements, making sure they were all sticking to the same schedule as yesterday, and the day before that. He also paid attention to his fellow inmates, gauging each group’s current temperament and whether he could expect any trouble from anyone today. Thankfully he was still invisible to anyone of concern, as he had been since his main tormentor, Rumlow, had been sent to Maximum Security, the guards finally acting the third time he put Steve in the Infirmary.  

An unsuspicious amount of time later Steve dumped his food tray and headed for the east block security check point. He waited there with the rest of the cleaning crew inmates for the supervising guard to let them all through and escort them to the cleaning supplies storage room. Steve filled up his mop and bucket and headed off to his section, working his way towards the clear barriers next to the guard station and, more importantly, the visitors waiting area.

Twenty of the longest minutes of Steve’s life later he glanced up and easily spied his friend amongst the visitors thanks to his trademark purple t-shirt. He winced as he tapped the side of this nose (the damn thing was broken again), the signal for “Operation: Free Bird is a go”. Steve took a deep breath and put his part of the plan into action.

“Finished that section. Going for a refill then heading for the other corridor,” Steve said as he passed the supervising guard. The man grunted a reply, barely looking up from his phone to acknowledge the inmate. 

Good, thought Steve. The guard could be relied upon to be engrossed with his phone until it was time to lock up the supply room, which would give Steve approximately 15 minutes before his absence was noticed. He entered the supply room and abandoned his mop and bucket next to the others, making straight for vent in the back corner of the room. As planned, the vent cover was now unscrewed and it was simply a matter of Steve climbing the rickety shelving unit and pulling himself up into the ventilation shaft opening… eight feet off the friggin ground. 

A few prayers and a lot of muttered cursing later Steve fell into the ventilation shaft, reaching for the respirator mask that had been so thoughtfully left for him – thank you, Clint - before he copped a lungful of the mould and dust that coated the metal walls. Also left behind for him was a small, plastic, keychain-sized torch and a much folded piece of paper, with a crude map of the ventilation system and a handy red line between “You Are Here” and “X” drawn on it.

Ten minutes and only one wrong turn later Steve found the duffle bag waiting for him at the exit point. He checked everything was all clear before dropping down into a cubicle in the visitor’s toilets, balancing precariously on a dividing wall before climbing down, the vent cover clapping softly shut behind him thanks to hinge Clint had managed to attach to it.  

Five minutes later a skinny hipster in clothes two sizes too big for him exited the toilets and took a seat in the waiting area. The guy in the purple shirt was nowhere to be seen.

Two minutes after that, just as an inmate’s absence was being reported by a sheepish guard, two cameras at the opposite end of the compound lost visual and all hell broke loose. The skinny hipster was evacuated with the rest grumbling visitors and headed for the nearest road, a friendly guy in a purple shirt soon pulled up alongside him and offered him a ride back to Brooklyn.

** *** **

Special Agent James Barnes of New York’s White Collar Crime Unit was pacing outside what was, until very recently, the site of a boiler room with ties – allegedly – to the untouchable Alexander Pierce when Probational Agent Lewis approached him.

“Boss?”

“The place has been cleared out. Just like last time,” James spat. “Pierce has got to have someone on the inside,” he added lowly. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. The team got here not even half an hour after the warrant was issued and the place was empty. Not a single computer or friggin headset was left behind. They took everything but the goddamned light bulbs.”

He stopped pacing and stared at his usually talkative junior agent. She was shifting awkwardly, her phone held out to him.

“What is it?”

“Steve Rogers escaped.”

“What?!”

** *** **

James arrived at the prison and had to let rip with a high pitched whistle to announce himself over the bickering of the warden and the US Marshal in charge.

“Agent Barnes, FBI,” he said, flashing his badge and a smile.

“You’re the one who caught Rogers the first time?” the warden asked, almost reaching out to him in desperation.

“‘Caught’ might be a stretch,” he shrugged. “I brought him in. He’s not really the 'on the run’ type.”

“He is now,” the gruff marshal said gruffly.

“Let’s figure out why, shall we?”

James followed the warden to Rogers’ cell while the marshal peeled off muttering something about roadblocks and hen houses.

“I don’t understand it,” the warden fretted. “Rogers has been a model prisoner. Followed instruction, always polite, never caused any problems… He was up for parole next month.”

Something in the warden’s inflection caught James’ attention.

“Did he have any problems?”

“He was one of the smallest guys here,” the warden shrugged like it explained everything. “He held his own, but there was this one inmate, Rumlow, who had it out for him. Despite being a raging psychopath he was careful and the guards only caught him in the act last month. Rogers was in the infirmary for a week.”

“That’s reason enough to want to escape.”

The warden shook his head. “That was Rumlow’s first and last strike. He was sent up to Sing Sing after that. Don’t know how he wound up in minimum security in the first place.”

“Good lawyer, probably,” James mused, stopping short as they reached Rogers’ cell. “Holy shit…”

Etched into the wall opposite the cot was a replica of “The Girl with a Pearl Earring”, if the girl had been a fifty year old kemo patient.

“He’s quite the artist. Had a good business going, trading tattoos for food or books…”

James tore his eyes away from the art on the walls looked around the small cell. The bed was neatly made and the shelf above the small desk in the corner was piled high with ramen and chocolate bars. The desk itself was littered with drawings and the remnants of cheap pastels. He rifled through the pages - character studies of guards and inmates mostly - until he found the catalyst. He passed the eviction notice over to the warden.

“We’ve got the why, now the how.”

“I don’t understand,” the warden griped, struggling to keep up with Barnes as he made his way back to the guard station.

“He was getting kicked out of his apartment.”

“But he wasn’t living there…”

“He was keeping up with the rent payments somehow. The landlord must have only just cottoned on to the fact that Steve’s not around anymore and terminated the rental agreement. He has until tomorrow to clear out his stuff.”

“You think he hid something valuable in the apartment?”

“Depends what you mean by valuable,” James replied cryptically as they reached the security check point, nodding to the guards to let them through.

 “Here’s Rogers,” the guard said, pointing to the blond on the monitor as he exited the mess hall. The security footage sped through the rest of the morning until… “He goes into the supply room, and never comes back out.”

“Keep going until the guard notices he’s missing.”

James didn’t say a word about the idiot guard with his eyes glued to his phone; word had it he was getting fired just as soon as the marshals were done chewing him out.

His eyes flicked to the two camera angles that went dark around about the time the guard realised Rogers’ was MIA.

“What happened there?”

“They were shot out.”

“Shot?”

“With a bow and arrow,” the warden added in the dazed tone of a man mentally drafting his resignation letter. “But we’ve checked the area. There’s no signs of a breakout. And even if there were it couldn’t have been Rogers. He can’t have gotten to that side of the compound without passing through three security check points. Especially not without leaving the storage room first!” the warden reasoned desperately.

“So it’s a distraction. Too coincidental to be completely unrelated,” James countered. “Show me just the cameras from this block. From the moment Rogers walks into the storage room until the place goes on lockdown. … There!” he exclaims, jabbing a finger at a flash of blonde hair. “That’s how he got out: he walked out the front door.”

“But that… that’s just a visitor. Isn’t it?”

James flicked an irritated look at the frazzled warden before turning back to the security footage. “Blow that angle up. Play it again.” On a full screen it was obvious that it was Rogers but apparently the hipster glasses were enough to give the warden reasonable doubt. “Rewind it,” James asked irritably. “Show me when he goes into the bathroom.”

The tape went back and back and back and the moment never came. He gave the warden a non-verbal “I told you so” and made for the visitors bathrooms. He gave the dreary tiled room a once over and didn’t see any obvious entry points, no Shawshank-style holes in the wall, but maybe…

“Give me your baton,” he asked of the guard trailing behind the warden (in case he passed out from stress, James assumed). He extended it with a flick of his wrist and stood atop the last toilet in the row, using the baton to reach up to the air vent cover… And wouldn’t you know it, the damn thing was unscrewed.

“That’s not possible,” the warden scoffed. “It’s not possible. It’s too small! No one could fit in there!”

“No one our size, perhaps, but Rogers is, what? A foot shorter and a hundred pounds soaking wet? A guy that size would have plenty of wiggle room.”

The warden was still clinging to his righteous indignation when James moved to the waste bin and dug out a black duffle bag from under the used paper towels. He pulled an orange jumpsuit from the bag and handed the whole thing over.

“I’d fix those vents if I were you.”

“Where are you going?”

“To find him.”

** *** **

Steve Rogers, in Agent Barnes’ off-the-record opinion, was not a bad guy. He had just been a kid, working his ass off on a partial fine arts scholarship at Columbia, when his talent for recreating old masters was noticed by the wrong people. The guy had an unwavering moral compass and James believed that if his mother hadn’t gotten sick Steve Rogers would never have fallen into the world of art forgery. He was sure Steve had told himself it would just be the one time, but then his mom got sicker and the bills kept coming, so he allowed himself to be commissioned for another forgery, and another. And then Sarah Rogers had died and Steve’s true north died with her. By the time Steve was able to drag himself out of his depression the funeral bills had been added to his pile of debt, the rent was due, and he had a pressing need to eat some time that week. He buckled.

Three years later and Steve was forging everything from “lost works” from old masters to bearer bonds from the forties. He was probably one of the best forgers James had never heard of, until some snivelling yuppie who had been laundering drug money through his art gallery had dropped Steve’s name and crimes in the hopes of reducing his own sentence.

James had gone to Steve Rogers’ home himself to ask him a few questions, get a feel for the guy, but the moment the skinny little artist had seen James’ badge his shoulders had slumped; he knew he was nicked and he wasn’t going to fight it. He did however only do the bare minimum to cooperate with their investigation and didn’t implicate himself in any crimes the Bureau wasn’t currently aware of. He did suggest he wouldn’t be of much help with the crimes they could trace back to him, admitting that all of his jobs were brought to him by an agent of sorts and he never had any contact with the people who bought his work. If he accepted a job he’d give the agent a list of supplies he’d need to pull it off and by the end of the next day they be delivered to his doorstop and he’d get to work. He claimed not to know their name, only communicating via a burner phone that his agents conveniently couldn’t find when they searched his place.

James pulled up at the aforementioned place, an unremarkable apartment building in a corner of Brooklyn that had scared off the forces of gentrification. Back up pulled up a few seconds later and he motioned for them to stay outside and watch the exits. Steve Rogers wasn’t armed or dangerous, and James had a feeling he wouldn’t run.

The elevator was broken again, or still broken from his last visit, so James hoofed it up four flights of stairs to the former residence of Steve and Sarah Rogers. The lock had been jimmied and the smell of fresh paint almost knocked him on his ass as he pushed the door open. It was a small apartment, just two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a cramped “open plan” kitchen/dining/living area, though it seemed less cramped now that it was completely devoid of furniture.

James sighed and checked the bedrooms, and found Steve sitting on the floor of what James remembered as Sarah Rogers’ untouched bedroom.

“Hey Steve,” he called softly from the doorway. “What happened?”

“The bastard lied. He sent the eviction notice to cover his ass but he didn’t even think I’d get it so why wait the full 14 days? He threw everything out two days ago. Now this is all I have left of her,” he cried, holding up the creased photo of his mother.

“I’m sorry, Steve.”

James gave him as much time as he could before helping him to his feet and escorting him from the building. Handing Steve over to the marshals was one of the harder things he’d had to do in his line of work and his broken expression kept James up all night. Not that he told Darcy that when she commented on the bags under his eyes the next morning.

“Where are we on the boiler room?” he said instead, taking the proffered coffee.

“Nowhere,” Darcy grumbled. “Forensics pulled a few partials but they’re not confident they’ll be enough for a match. Fury’s given the file to me to chase down some leads that won’t go anywhere.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because,” she said, brandishing a new file with a smile. “You have something more important to look into: the Ghost might be back.”

The Ghost was called the Ghost because they never left any evidence other than an empty space where a priceless work of art once sat. In the past two years the Ghost had been credited with five high profile thefts, and if the file in front of him was to believed that number was now six. James sighed and tried to savour his coffee. Art Crimes wasn’t exactly his forte, he was a forensic accountant at heart - give him a good embezzlement case and he was happy. But Art Crimes? He’d never quite understood the value and status (rich) people put on it, nor had he been able to, in the five years he’d been an agent, find a reliable CI in that world to give him a leg up.

Maybe Steve knew someone, maybe Steve…

An idea took hold and James threw himself into research, coffee and potential Ghost case all but forgotten.

** *** **

Steve put on a brave face and smiled as James entered the interview room.

“Good morning, Agent Barnes. What brings you here?”

“I wanted to talk you about your parole.”

“Uh, you’re a little late,” Steve chuckled. “The hearing was cancelled on account of my little… furlough.”

“No, I heard about that. I had a little something a little different in mind.”

“Like what?”

“Have you ever heard of Frank Abagnale Jr?”

“The conman they made that DiCaprio movie about?”

“The conman that became an FBI consultant,” James supplied. “I was wondering if that was something you would be interested in.” He smiled as the man across from him did a pretty good impression of a fish. “If you agree you’ll be fitted with a tracking device and be released into my custody. You’d be given room and board – nothing much, I’m warning you now – and serve your sentence consulting on cases instead sitting in a prison cell.”

“If I agree?” Steve laughed. “But why me? I was just a forger.”

“I think you’re selling yourself a bit short there, Rogers. I know for a fact that you were holding out on us when you were arrested, you know a hell of a lot more than you let on, and you’ve got connections in that world which sometimes feels like it’s half the job. So… what do you say?”

Steve smiled. “When can I start?”

** *** **

James smiled as he saw Steve kiss the dog tags and wedding ring that hung from a chain around his neck for the fifth time on their drive back to the city.

“I’m glad you got your personal effects back, Steve.”

“Me too. It’s not much but it’s a hell of a lot better than nothing,” he sighed, relinquishing his hold on them in favour of fidgeting with his new watch-slash-tracking device. “Did they have to make this thing so bulky?”

“Count yourself lucky it’s in standard issue black. I had to talk the guy down from making it in his trademark red and gold.”

“Red and gold? This is a Stark?!”

“Yeah, my boss insisted on something unhackable before agreeing to let you out into the world, and Stark owed me a favour after I solved a patent issue he was having.”

“I feel both honoured and insulted. It’s like your boss doesn’t trust me.”

“Oh, he doesn’t. But don’t take it personally; Fury doesn’t trust anyone.”

James double checked his GPS, took the next right, and pulled up in front of a rundown motel with several letters missing from its flickering neon sign.

“Here we are, home sweet home.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Steve muttered as he followed James into the dingy lobby.

“Agent Barnes,” James flashed his badge at the attendant. “This is Steve Rogers, my office called earlier.”

“Right, right,” the (possibly high) attendant murmured. “There you, Snake Eyes,” he said, tossing the keys in Steve’s general direction.

Steve stared at the keys where they landed on the dirty ground and pleaded with James. “Do I have to stay here? Prison was cleaner. And probably safer,” he added in quiet tones, eyeing the residents loitering in the lobby warily.  

“I warned you it wasn’t going to be much,” James reminded him. “It costs 700 a month to house you on the inside, so that's what it costs here. For the money, this is as good as it gets. You find something better - take it. In the meantime, get settled in, do your homework,” he added, passing Steve a few files, “And I’ll pick you up at 7am.”

“What about clothes – or toiletries? I’m wearing my entire wardrobe,” Steve argued, tugging at his threadbare shirt.

“Your tracking anklet is set up so you can go anywhere within two miles of this place. Find a thrift store.”

“And pay for it with what money?”

“Oh, almost forgot. Here,” he said, handing over a fifty dollar bill. “That’s your weekly allowance. That’s how much it costs on the inside,” he repeated before Steve could argue. “If you need anything extra I’ll show you how to fill out a requisition form tomorrow. Until then: homework, two miles, 7 am. Got it?”

“Yeah, yeah…”

** *** **

Steve lasted a whole two minutes in the possibly haunted motel room before walking straight back out again. He splurged on his first decent cup of coffee in almost a year and found a bench in a nearby park to sit and read the files Agent Barnes had given him while the light was still good. After that he wasn’t sure what he was going to do, only that it involved not sleeping in a room that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned properly anytime in the past decade.

He was almost at the bottom of his coffee when something caught his attention; an elderly woman in her eighties, maybe even nineties, clinging to her purse like a life raft, her expression changing from confused to sheer panic at an alarming rate.

“Ma’am, are you ok?” Steve asked, stepping into her field of vision. “Are you alright?” he repeated when she finally registered his presence.

“I’m afraid I’m a bit lost,” she confessed with shaky voice and just the hint of an English accent.

“Why don’t you come sit next to me and maybe I can help you find your way.”

“Aren’t you a nice young man,” she remarked as she allowed him to lead her to the bench.

“Do you remember where you were going?”

“I think… I think I wasn’t supposed to go anywhere,” she admitted bashfully. “I was with my niece and she stopped to take a phone call and I’m afraid I must have wandered off. She’s going to be ever so cross with me.”

“It’s not your fault,” Steve assured her.

“No, it’s this mind of mine, betraying me in my old age,” she tutted. “And it’s got me quite forgetting my manners. Agent Margaret Carter, formerly of her Majesty’s armed forces and Churchill’s S.O.E. But you can call me Peggy.”

“Wait a minute, the S.O.E.? You were a spy?” Steve exclaimed, happy he retained something from his WWII studies.

“Spy, codebreaker, kicker of Nazi asses,” she grinned back. “And who might you be, other than the kind of man who helps little old ladies cross the street?” she teased.

“Oh, uh, Steve Rogers, ma’am. Recently paroled art forger turned consultant for the FBI,” he answered truthfully, returning her firm handshake.

“A forger? Really?” she beamed. “You must be quite talented. You’ll have to paint my portrait for me.”

Steve blushed but before he could answer her a frantic younger woman ran up to them.

“Aunt Peggy! I thought I lost you!” she cried, almost falling to her knees in relief.

“I think it was me who lost you, dear. Steve, this is my niece, Sharon. Sharon, this is Steve, the young man that has been keeping me company while we waited for you.”

“Thank you so much,” Sharon greeted breathlessly, still trying to get her racing heart under control.

“It wasn’t a hardship. You’re aunt’s a real firecracker.”

“Oh you,” Peggy blushed, slapping Steve’s arm. “Steve here is an artist. I was just in the process of commissioning him to paint my portrait, something dark and austere to loom over everyone at family dinners long after I’m gone,” she laughed.

“That sounds great, Aunt Peg. Have you got a card?”

“Oh, no, sorry. Uh, I don’t even have a phone at the moment.”

Sharon raised an eyebrow at his admission but Peggy steamrolled over any awkwardness.

“It’s not the boy’s fault, Sharon dear. He’s just been released from prison, but now he’s working for the FBI, isn’t that exciting?”

Sharon raised both eyebrows.

“Art forger… turned consultant…” Steve repeated self-consciously.

Her eyes flicked to him the files at his side.

“Are those case files?”

“Uh, yes?”

“Can I see them?”

“Um… no?” It wasn’t like they had [Top Secret] stamped all over it, and James hadn’t mentioned anything about confidentiality, but maybe that’s because it went without saying. “Give me a break,” he said in answer to Sharon’s razor sharp gaze. “It’s my first day isn’t until tomorrow.”

“Who’s your liaison?”

“…Special Agent James Barnes. Why?”

Instead of responding Sharon turned her attention to her phone, tapping away until she found the answers she needed.

“Steven Grant Rogers, twenty six years old, convicted of one count of felony forgery though implicated in at least a dozen other cases. Non-violent offender, served 11 months on a four year sentence before escaping only to be captured that same day and released into the custody of Special Agent James Barnes. Currently residing… at the Heart of the City Motel. Seriously? That place is a dump.”

“Yeah, it is, but… How… How did you know all that?” Steve asked dazedly, pointing to her phone.

“Classified,” she smirked.

“My dear Sharon has followed in my footsteps somewhat. She works in Washington,” Peggy supplied with an exaggerated wink, earning an amused snort from her niece. “And that agent of yours doesn’t really expect you to live at that awful motel, does he? That place should have been condemned when Sharon was a girl.”

“According to the Bureau, it cost 700 a month to house me on the inside, so that's all they’ve budgeted for my room and board on the outside. Agent Barnes said if I could find something better for the same money I should take it, but in this city?” Steve scoffed.

“Why don’t you come stay with me?”

“Aunt Peg,” Sharon scolded.

“You said it yourself, dear. Your work is in Washington, and though you visit as often as you can you still worry about me being all alone in that big house once Anna leaves for the day.”

“I really couldn’t…”

“And you,” she said, turning to Steve. “You said you’d paint my portrait. I could be your patron, how marvellous,” she grinned.

Steve couldn’t bring himself to say no to Peggy’s enthusiastic generosity, instead he looked to Sharon to give him out by deeming him an unsuitable houseguest by rap sheet alone, but it seemed she wasn’t immune to her aunt’s enthusiasm either.

“Fine. But if you hurt her in any way, shape, or form, you won’t have to worry about going back to prison because you’ll be dead. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded, knowing it wasn’t hyperbole in the least.

“That settles it,” Peggy clapped. “Rent can be due on the first of every month and meals are served at 7am, 12pm, and 5pm, Monday through Friday. Though we’ll be left to our own devices for lunch and dinner on weekends until Anna’s daughter stops working nightshift and no longer needs a babysitter. Any questions?”

“Uh, just one,” Steve replied, holding up his tracking bracelet. “Is your place within a two mile radius of the motel?”

** *** **

Steve parted ways with the Carter’s and wandered back to the awful motel in a giddy daze.

“Hey Snake Eyes,” the attendant greeted. “What can I do you for?”

“Checking out,” Steve grinned, dropping the keys into his hand.

“So soon?”

“Yep. You got paper and a pen? I need to leave a note for that guy that dropped me off.”

“Secret Agent Man?” he asked, passing over the required items.

“That’s the one,” Steve murmured as he crafted his note. “Give this to him when he turns up tomorrow morning?”

“Sure thing. Hey, that reminds me,” he said to Steve’s retreating back. “Someone left something for you,” he said, looking around his small station until he found a familiar brand of black duffel bag. “Left you a note too.”

“To: Cap,” it read in Clint’s familiar scrawl. “Sorry about your stuff. Went dumpster diving behind your building and got some of it back. x Hawkeye”

Steve took the bag and frantically rifled through the smelly contents. It was mostly clothes, some coffee mugs and books, and a few precious framed photos that Steve wasn’t ashamed to say he hugged to his chest.

 A few hours later he was settled in his new digs, a guest apartment in Peggy’s townhouse, complete with an ensuite and its own kitchenette. Steve had spent the better part of an hour following dinner with the delightful Peggy getting better acquainted with said ensuite, swearing to himself he was never going back to prison, and prison showers, ever again. When he finally exited the bathroom, wearing only “guest pyjama” bottoms as his entire wardrobe was in the washing machine downstairs, he almost shrieked at the sight of a woman perched at the end of his bed.

“Hello Steve,” she purred.

“Jesus Christ, Nat,” he swore at the redhead. “You almost gave me a heart attack,” he gasped, leaning against the wall for support.

“Not going to ask stupid questions like ‘How did you find me?’” she teased, moving in for a hug.

“I know better than that. I would ask that you don’t make this a habit though. Peggy’s niece is kinda your level of intimidating.”

“I’m aware,” she smirked knowingly. “So, how’s life on the outside treating you,” she asked, rummaging around his fridge for something to drink and finding only random craft beers and bottled water.

Steve gestured at his comfortable surroundings. “I think my luck’s turning around.”

“All you had to do was sell your soul to the feds,” she grimaced, flicking the bottle cap into the sink.

“It’s not like that, Nat.”

“Isn’t it?”

“I’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“You painted a few pictures, Steve.”

“And forged bonds and stock certificates, and a goddamn printing plate. Nat, I did the wrong thing over and over again. I broke laws, committed crimes, and even if the feds aren’t aware of all of them I’m going to atone for them. This is how.”

“Even if it means ratting out your friends?”

“Hey, I would never. I say a word about you then, I won’t now.”

“So you’ll just lie to your FBI handler?”

“I don’t have to lie. I can just be vague and obtuse. Agent Barnes knows I’m not telling him everything and he seems to accept it.”

“Until a case I’m involved in comes across your desk.”

“I’d go back to prison before ratting you out, Nat. You have to believe that.”

“I do, that’s the problem,” she smiled sadly. “You went to prison the first time because of me, I won’t let you do it again.”

“That wasn’t your fault…”

“It was,” Nat argued. “I got you into all this in the first place. My uncle saw that Degas you painted for my birthday and he kept pushing the idea of that first job, asking me to ask you…”

“I didn’t have to say yes.”

“You were desperate. I took advantage.”

“And what about those last few years, after all my debts were paid… Was I still desperate then?” Nat sighed and picked at the label on her water bottle. “It was my choice, Nat. The guilt should be mine too.”

“And yet I still feel like an asshole, so I’m going to make it easy for you: I’m going to take a holiday.”

“For how long?”

“Four years. Two with good behaviour,” she smiled, abandoning her drink in favour of another hug. “Look after yourself, Rogers.”

“You too, Romanoff. And hey,” he called as she made for the door. “Take Clint with you, would you?”

“Who do you think’s flying the plane?” she teased and disappeared from sight.

Steve’s heart broke a little bit at the thought of his friends being out of the country for four years – because of him. But it wasn’t that long in the grand scheme of things, he reasoned, and worst case scenario they’d be back for his 30th birthday, and what a party that was going to be.

** *** **

James read over Steve’s note, and the obnoxious little smiley face tacked on the end, and prayed to his mother’s god that busting this kid out of jail wasn’t going to end up being the worst mistake of his career. He checked the address again and knocked on the fancy front door.

“Good morning, I’m Special Agent Barnes,” he greeted, flashing his badge as was habit. “Is there a Steve Rogers at this address?”

The woman smiled warmly and waved him through.

“Good morning Special Agent Barnes. My name is Anna Jarvis, I’m Ms Carter’s housekeeper. She and Mr Rogers are taking breakfast in the main dining room.”

“Of course they are,” James muttered to himself as he followed Anna through the lavish home.

“Agent Barnes!” Steve grinned contagiously. “You’re early.”

“You moved,” he countered, staring around the opulent room in disbelief.

“Yeah, it's nicer than the other place, don't you think?”

“I don’t think the other place served breakfast. How…”

“Well, while taking advantage of the generous freedom you gave me I went to the park yesterday afternoon and bumped into Peggy here,” Steve explained, enjoying James’ awkwardness immensely.  At the mention of her name Peggy dragged herself away from her morning crossword. “Peg, this is James Barnes, the FBI guy I was telling you about. Agent Barnes, this is Agent Margaret “Peggy” Carter, formerly of her Majesty’s armed forces and Churchill’s S.O.E, and my generous patron to boot.”

“Isn’t he a riot,” Peggy laughed.

“He’s something alright,” James agreed. “Steve, why don’t you go get dressed. We’ve got a busy day ahead of us.”

“Will do. Thanks for breakfast, Anna. Have a wonderful day, Peg.”

“You too, dear,” Peggy waved.

James fell down in an open chair and graciously accepted the cup of coffee Anna poured for him. The drink helped him gather his wits and he turned to address the elderly woman at the head of the table.

“It’s very nice of you to put Steve up, Ms Carter, but he did disclose to you that he’s a convicted felon, didn’t he? And that that thing on his wrist isn’t just a watch.”

“Young man,” Peggy replied sharply. “I was hunting down Nazi’s before your father was even thought of; I know what bad men look like, and Steve Rogers is not one of them.”

“No, ma’am, he isn’t,” James conceded.

** *** **

James was waiting by the car when Steve finally emerged, dressed in clean dark jeans, a loose fitting t-shirt, and a comfy looking button up sweater that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Peggy’s wardrobe.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah, yeah, hold your horses.”

“First day on the job and you’re already late,” James grumbled as he got behind the wheel.

“Hey, you were early,” Steve shot back.

“You read the files?”

“Yep,” Steve said, handing them back.

“And?”

“The Bourke and Jones jobs feel like insurance fraud to me, the Bourke especially. I’d put money on the painting that was displayed being a fake; the brushstrokes looked all wrong to me. The Caffrey was definitely an inside job. I’d look for an employee, or a close relative of an employee, who’s got gambling debts with a guy named Berrigan. He’s got a soft spot for post-war abstracts, Rothko’s in particular. The other three… they could very well be the same guy but I’d like to check out the most recent crime scene before committing to that theory.”

“…You know what, Steve?”

“What?” Steve asked.

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

In case you were wondering...

- James dropped the nickname Bucky when he went to Quanitco in an effort to be taken more seriously. Steve finds out about it from Darcy, ala Diana telling Neal about Peter's mustache. - Darcy and Sam would be James' main underlings. - James often thinks of Steve as "kid" though he's 26 and Bucky's barely pushing 30. - Clint/Nat are Steve's Mozzie but as Steve is completely different to Neal - no ulterior motives, no big secrets, etc - it seemed right to have them step back from Steve so he wasn't found breaking parole for consorting with criminals, and Steve wasn't torn apart by guilt for covering for his friends/lying to James about their involvement in open cases. - Steve and Clint met as they tried to pass each other in some random alleyway in Brooklyn, both bloody and bruised,  when they were still in high school and have been close friends ever since. Steve met Nat in college though he wasn't aware that she was slightly mobbed up until she brought him his first "commission". - I do say the the vent was too small for guys Bucky's size but okay for Steve - so what about Clint? Apparently Clint+ceiling vents in a fanmade trope, and I had no idea, so let's just say that Clint is bigger than Steve but smaller than Bucky and since he's so accustomed to ceiling ducts it might have been a tight fit but completely doable for him. - Steve may have told himself what he was doing wasn't hurting anyone there would have to be an ep where he discovers how his actions ruined someone's life, etc. - Rumlow would come back as Steve's nemesis/hired muscle for Alexander Peirce.

[vizhi0n]

Sawney - Part 28

Chapter Masterlist

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Warnings: hella smut.

They had a visitor.

Much to Desa’s dismay, Gregory was waiting for them. His suit was pressed and unwrinkled, although his formal outfit didn’t distract from the obvious air of nervousness around him. He was escorted by Regina, who looked just as unhappy.

“He wants to speak to you,” Regina said. Negan bypassed him, Desa in tow.

“Get him and room or some shit. I’m too tired to fucking deal with this shit right now.”

Shooting one last glance back at Gregory, and ignoring his pleas, Desa followed Negan up the stairs while Simon wrapped an arm around Gregory, seemingly happy that the older man had arrived. Desa wasn’t going to question it — Gregory and the Hilltop were Simon’s responsibilities. She was under no real obligation to care, no matter how much Gregory’s presence irked her.

“Do we have an particular plan?”

“Fight,” Negan replied simply. He shut the door to his room, running fingers through his disheveled hair. After pacing for a bit, he said, “Listen, I’m giving you a fucking job. A fucking big one.”

Desa stiffened, but said nothing.

“The people here — the fucking workers, the other Saviors, they trust you. They know what you’re capable of, where the fuck you came from,” Negan cradled Desa’s head between his palms, sighing. “From here on out, you’re my fucking right hand.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Negan smirked. “Simon isn’t going anywhere. Once all this shit blows over, he’ll still be in charge of the Hilltop. But you’ll be the person I go to.”

“I’ve never been promoted before,” Desa licked her lips. She peered over Negan’s shoulder, eyeing the bathroom. Making a faux noise of disgust and wrinkling her nose, she said, “You need a shower.”

“Really? That’s what you say after I’ve fucking promoted you?”

Once again, Desa stood on her tip toes so she could lightly bite Negan’s ear. One hand palmed his crotch and she murmured, “I’ll thank you in the shower.”

“Oh, oh,” Negan snorted. “Fucking right. I get you, now.”

Desa ducked beneath his arm, darting into the bathroom and stripping before Negan could even get his hands on her. She turned the shower knob, yelping when cold water struck her skin. It only took a few moments for it to heat up, and she raised her arms over her head, stretching sore limbs. She chuckled when she felt Negan’s arms wrap around her, his lips latching onto her neck, his hard length pressed against her back. The dirt and grime washed from their bodies, disappearing down the drain.

Turning, Desa murmured, “Thank you.”

“I know you can get that shit done better than anyone else,” Negan said. His breath hitched when Desa brushed her knuckles across his dick, eyes traveling downwards as Desa kissed from his jaw to his neck, down his chest and past his navel.

Desa’s slick hand wrapped around his cock, thumb swirling over the swollen head. She nipped on his lower lip, kissing him once more before sliding to her knees. The warm water was a stark contrast to the cool tile against her skin. She could smell the faintest hint of body wash as she gently wrapped her tongue around him.

His hand immediately went to tangle in her hair. The thunder of the shower wasn’t loud enough to mask Negan’s grunt. Desa closed her eyes in an attempt to keep out unwanted water, increasing her pace, bobbing her head until the muscles in her neck began to strain. She was attempting to ease him deeper and deeper into her mouth, unused to the feel of him against her tongue. She braced her hands against his trembling thighs, pushing her head forward, resisting the urge to gaga. Her nose brushed against the coarse hairs at the base of his dick, and she stopped.

“Holy fuck.”

Desa pulled her head back, going slowly, lightly scraping her teeth against the skin. She sucked on the head before repeating the movement. In a matter of minutes Negan was a shaking, cursing mess. He came, grunting, watching with wide eyes as Desa swallowed it all.

Negan looked as if he were about to faint. Desa couldn’t help but laugh, standing  and fetching the bottle of body wash from the shower floor.

When they finished, Desa climbed into bed, nude, resting her head against the pillow and groaning.

“I don’t want to have to fucking deal with Gregory,” Negan said angrily. Desa saw him stop next to the bed, yanking on a pair of boxers before drying his hair roughly with his towel. “Can I just fucking kill him…get this shit over with.”

“Tomorrow. We’ll talk with him tomorrow. He probably has something important to say.”

“Doubt it,” Negan hopped into bed. “Tomorrow. I’ll deal with his stupid ass tomorrow,” He lightly slapped Desa’s rear, adding cheekily, “Goddamn you have such a cute, perky little ass.”

“I’ve never had anyone compliment my butt before.”

“Have you ever tried anal?”

Desa lifted her head, and her expression must have been humorous, for Negan burst out laughing. She said, “Could you have possibly been more blunt?”

“I was just fucking curious. Would you rather me beg?”

“Maybe.”

“Please can I stick it in your ass?” Negan massaged her rear with the palm of his hand, cooing. “Please, baby? Can we try it just once?”

“I have no words,” Desa buried her face in her pillow. “You are something else.”

“I have plenty of lube.”

Desa slapped Negan’s chest, groaning, “Maybe one day. I’m too sore right now.”

“Killjoy,” Negan murmured. Nonetheless, he wrapped his arms around Desa, kissing her damp head before flickering off the lights.

“You need to tell him,” Drake exclaimed, pushing off from the wall. “Desa, we could take those bombs, and we could end this. Today.”

“Torching an entire community for one man,” Desa replied. She placed a hand on Drake shoulder, before quickly pulling away when he hissed in pain. She could see a sliver of his bandage poking out from beneath his shirt. Visions of what Father had done hit her, and for a moment, she was rendered speechless.

“Yeah. Torch an entire community for one man, save our people in the process.”

“They have kids there,” Desa snapped.

“We have kids here,” Drake growled. “We have something in our arsenal that no one else has. You said you were saving those bombs for desperate times, right? These are desperate times.”

“It’s not desperate enough. Drake,” Desa stepped closer, steadying her breathing. “Trust me on this.”

“Don’t do something that will get us all killed, please” Drake brushed past her, and Desa sighed. The Negan, Simon, Eugene, Dwight, Regina and Gregory were seated on the other side of the door. Steeling herself, Desa opened it and, without saying a word, went and sat in the empty seat next to Negan. The entire time, Simon was watching her — his lips were pressed into a thin line, and he seemed to be feinting disinterest, although Desa could see something else swirling behind his dark eyes. Eugene was stoic and Regina sat, posture rigid, muscular arms crossed over her chest.  

Negan met her gaze, nodding subtly. Lucille was resting against his shoulder, and he snaked his free hand beneath the table to squeeze Desa’s thigh.

Desa resisted the urge to roll her eyes when Gregory began speaking.

“I’m, uh, grateful that you’re taking the time to hear me out. Especially considering the circumstances,” Gregory laced his hands together, eyes scanning the table. “As you may now, Rick and his gang of crusaders have brainwashed my people. We were farmers — not soldiers. They still listen to me. They still trust me. I think I can top this before it even starts.” 

“But…I thought the widow was in charge?” Negan raised his eyebrows. “I mean, she was the one who led your people to Alexandria. You didn’t know about all that shit, right, Gregory?” 

“It was out of my control…by the time I realized what was wrong, they’d already gone…”

Liar.

Desa said nothing. She could practically smell the cowardice seeping from Gregory’s pores, and it made her sick.

Gregory noticed Desa unwavering stare, stammering, “I can talk my people down.”

“They’re still your fucking people, right?”

“I own the Hilltop,” Gregory stressed, straightening up. “Those people are mine. They’ll listen to me.”

“If things don’t work out, there’s always option number two,” Simon shrugged, head lolling to the side as he looked back and forth between Negan and Desa. “I take some guys in, clear out the whole place, quick. Kill everyone inside—”

Gregory choked on his water.

“—unfortunate, but necessary,” Simon beamed, his face falling when Desa shot him a look of utter disgust, mirroring Negan’s.

“Hey, genius,” Desa barked. “Hilltop is a farming community. They can’t farm if everyone is dead.”

Simon’s fingers curled into fist. Negan’s words were louder, angrier. “People are foundation of what we’re trying to build here. People are resources. Get that shit through your thick fucking skull, Simon.”

“I was just taking precautions—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Negan waved Lucille, huffing. His eyes drifted towards the window, and in a low voice, he said, “What the hell…?”

Simulated, rhythmic gunfire sounded from outside. Desa jumped to her feet, and the others followed. Gregory tried hanging back, but Simon grasped his arm and hauled him forward.

“Showtime, Gregory,” Negan sneered. “Work your fucking magic.”

“Is it them?”

“Rick the prick and his group of hillbilly warriors,” Negan wrinkled his nose, peeking through the blinds. Gesturing to the door that led to the balcony, he said, “Alright. Let’s go fucking deal with this shit — Desa, I want you up top with a rifle. Now.”

Desa nodded. She headed to the armory, yanking one of the sniper rifles from its rack before bounding up the stairs and into an empty room. She rolled up the blinds before sliding the window open. Just beyond the fence, a cluster of nearly a dozen cars were parked. Crouched behind each were Rick’s people — Alexandrian’s, some members of the Kingdom and the Hilltop. All armed. It clearly wasn’t an impromptu attack — they had a plan.

Father was with them. He hung back, but she could see the side of his bandaged face. Her lips twisted into a grimace, and as glanced through the scope, she spotted Rick peering from behind cover. From her angle, she didn’t have a clear shot, unless he shifted just a few feet to the left…

Not that Desa would fire, anyway. Not without Negan’s approval.

Rick’s word were loud, and they carried. Even from three floors above where Negan and the others were standing, Desa could hear clearly.

“If you surrender, right here, right now, you’ll live. All of you — except for one.”

Negan.

“I know you people,” Rick continued. “Gavin. Dwight. Simon. Eugene—”

“Regina.”

Regina’s voice was just as loud, and just as powerful. Desa smirked.

“—right,” Rick shouted. His eyes travelled up, before he extended an arm and pointed straight at Desa. “And Desa. I see you.”

Desa bared her teeth at Rick, and even though she knew Rick wouldn’t hear, she growled.

“I’m giving you a chance to end this before it even starts.”

“So am I,” Negan said. Desa couldn’t see, but she heard shuffling and assumed Gregory had been yanked from the corner. The look on Rick’s face confirmed her suspicions — his face fell, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Any members of the Hilltop that participates in this crusade will be kicked from the community,” Gregory exclaimed. To Desa’s surprise, his voice didn’t waver. “Turn around and go home. The Hilltop stands with Negan and the Saviors.”

“The Hilltop stands with Maggie!” A voice shouted. Desa rolled her eyes and sighed, peering through her scope once more.

Not a single person budged. There was some hesitation, some looks of worry, but everyone stood their ground.

Silence. Below, Desa heard Simon’s strong voice, followed by the sound of a body tumbling down the stairs.

“My offer still stands,” Rick shouted.

“Your offer ain’t shit,” Negan replied. “Your people are going to fucking die, Rick. Just like last time. All because you felt the urge to play ‘my dick is bigger than yours.”

Rick raised his hand, nodding at Negan’s words. In a raspy voice, he shouted, “I’m giving you one last chance — don’t make me count! Three! Two!”

“Go fuck yourself, Rick—”

Rick unloaded a barrage of gunfire that shattered glass. Desa ducked, before angrily grasping her gun and staring through the scope. She squeezed the trigger, and her bullet destroyed the side mirror of the car Rick was using for cover. He fell back, eyes frantically looking for where the bullet had come from.

He pointed, and shouted something. Desa yanked her head away from the window, covering her face with her hands as bullets sailed into the room, destroying the glass and peppering the walls with holes. Sticking to the corners, Desa kept her head down and threw herself from the room, using her foot to slam the door shut.

Slinging the rifle over her shoulder, she sprinted down the hallway. From within the walls of the Sanctuary, the constant gunfire sounded like a rhythmic, distant drum.

She nearly ran head first into Sherry. Without thinking, Desa pushed the woman to the side and shouted, “Get back inside the parlor!”

“What’s going on—”

“Now!”

Sherry didn’t argue.

Desa made her way to the ground floor, frantically searching for any sign of Negan. The workers had disappeared into the higher levels, leaving the place empty. Her boots crunched against broken glass, and she stopped next to the double doors leading outside.

She could see Rick, crouched behind cover, still firing. Again, no sign of Negan — Desa wasn’t ready to fear the worst.

Only one person has to die.

He’s not dead. If he were dead, Rick and his people would stop attacking—

Shit.

Desa pushed through the double doors, gun raised. Before she could fire a shot, a tremendous explosion rattled the entire Sanctuary, filling Desa’s line of sight with a blinding, white burst of light. The concussive force of the blast knocked her off her feet, fire singing her skin. She landed, hard, against the concrete.

She could barely hear the gunfire. Just a high-pitched, ringing noise in her ears. She extended an arm, grasping her gun from where it had fallen, before pulling herself back inside and shutting the door behind her.

“Desa!”

It was Regina. She slid to a stop, holstering her gun before hoisting Desa to her feet. Regina kept an arm around Desa, helping her hobble up the stairs to the higher levels. The gunfire had slowed to a crawl, just a few shots being exchanged, now.

“Where’s Negan?”

“Not sure,” Regina answered. Desa made an attempt to turn back, but Regina’s strong grip stopped her. “Desa! The courtyard is filled with biters—there’s no way you’d be able to go out there and look for him without getting yourself killed—”

“Let go of me—”

Regina was stronger, and Desa was dazed, still wobbling from the explosion. Regina shoved her, hard, against the wall, holding her steady by the shoulders.

Baring her teeth, Regina yelled, “You cannot and will not go out there! You’re no use to anyone if you’re dead, do you understand?”

When Desa didn’t reply, Regina shook her.

“Desa! Do you understand!”

“I understand,” Desa stammered. She glanced back towards the stairs, rubbing her eyes before saying, “Is everyone else inside?”

“Simon, Dwight, Eugene,” Regina said. “Gavin, too. Everyone made it back in. Rick and his people are gone, but the place is flooded with biters. We’re trapped.”

Desa’s shoulders slouched, and she said, “Okay…go get everyone together in the meeting room. I’ll go make sure the workers are alright—”

“Leave the workers--”

“No,” Desa said. She shook herself from Regina’s grip, meeting the woman's steely gaze. “There are children here. Pregnant women. Some of them might be hurt. Just do what I say, okay?”

“Negan left you in charge,” Regina murmured. She closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose. “Okay. I’ll go.”

“Thank you.”

Regina and Desa parted ways. She found the workers on the third floor, crowding the hallways. She picked her way through, ignoring the murmurs and whispers that soon delved into shouts.

“Where’s Negan?”

“Is he dead?”

“Is Negan dead? What’s going on—”

“The bottom floor is clear!” Desa shouted. The noise died down, and she glanced around at the crowd. “You can go back down, gather your belongings. Nobody is allowed in or out. We’ll bring water down for everyone soon.”

Stares. Whispers.

“Where’s Negan?”

“I don’t know,” Desa replied. “The best we can do is work with what we have, and stay together.”

Wordlessly, the workers began shuffling past Desa, heading back downstairs. While the workers went down, Desa went up. She pushed through the door of the meeting room, and was greeted with the sight of Simon, hunched over the table with his fingers curled into fists, Eugene cowering in his seat, and the rest — Gavin, Regina, Dwight — looking…defeated.

Simon lifted his heads, lips curling into a snarl. In an almost sickeningly sweet voice, he said, “So what’s the plan, boss.”

“Plan A is for you to lose the attitude.”

Simon shot up, back rigid. It was Dwight who stepped in front of him, planting a hand on Simon’s chest as he attempted to advance, yelling, “Stop it! Negan left her in charge — that was his decision.”

“The last thing we need right now is infighting, Simon,” Desa snapped. “If you want to discuss that situation, you do it with me. Alone.”

Simon’s eyes never left Desa. He sat, lacing his fingers together and opting for a silent glare.

“Start pulling out any stored supplies — food and water especially. Start rationing things out to the workers. Downstairs is clogged up — we’ll start moving people upstairs, women and children first, two too a room—”

“Desa,” Regina stressed.

“Those people downstairs? They’re resources. Just like you’re a resource,” Desa said. “One doesn’t matter more than the other—”

“She’s right,” Eugene said bluntly. “Desa. She’s right. Failing to provide adequate living conditions for the workers could possibly result in some sort of uprising. Considering our current situation, that is something we would be wise to avoid, no matter the costs.”

“This place is big enough for everyone,” Desa said. “Gavin and Jared can start assigning people spaces. Keep families together. Until we figure out a way to get rid of those biters, keeping our people alive is our top priority.”

“Do you have a way to deal with those undead freaks outside?” Simon said tersely.

She did.

Desa tried to hide the fact that her heart was sinking and her mind was racing. She knew exactly what to do, and she didn’t like it.

It has to be you, then. No one else.

Steeling herself, Desa said, “A few weeks ago, I found some explosives in a crashed train car. Drake and I worked on the schematics — found out that they were military grade missiles. We stashed them in a truck and parked the truck under a tunnel.”

“Military grade?” Regina raised her eyebrows.

“I don’t remember the specific name. But it’s enough,” Desa explained. “If we stage this correctly, I can slip out from here, grab the explosives, and draw the biters away.”

“Just you?” Gavin asked quietly.

“Just me. There’s a gap in the fence. It’s how I got in here the first time and stabbed you, Gavin. Which I never apologized for. I’m sorry.”

“Save it. If getting stabbed is what it took to help make you one of us, I can deal with it.”

Desa ducked her head, hiding her grin. “I’ll get out and grab the bombs.”

“There’s a bridge about six miles from here. If you can somehow detonate that thing while the biters are on the bridge…”

“Take em’ all out,” Simon murmured. “Or, most of them.”

Desa let out a breath, nodding. “Yeah. That sounds like a plan. And it’ll work. I’ll make sure it works.”

[fearofaherobrine]

Roleplay Server Log #274

“A Present for Slender, Zoo Trip pt1″

[Splender] Enters Doc's house with Pinwheel in his arms- Hello?

[Doc] Is sitting on the steps smootching Deerheart-

[Splender] Sends out his senses and finds them and begins heading towards them- Hello?  Doctor?

[Doc] Leans back on the steps and reluctantly releases Deerheart. -

[Deer] - Oh, hello Splender!  And Pinwheel too!

[Doc] Waves- What's up guys?

[Splender] - Well I was wondering if you would be willing to watch Pinwheel for awhile.  Sally would like to come for a visit

[Doc] Pinwheel? Is that okay with you? You can probably play with Crim some more.

[Pinwheel] - Cri?

[Doc] Yep. I'm sure he's around here somewhere.

[Pinwheel] - Cri!  Cri!

[Doc] Well there you go. Looks like it's okay Splender. Give my regards to Sally and your bro.

[Splender] - Oh I will!- He puts Pinwheel down- Now behave Pinwheel

[Doc] Is nearly eye to eye with the small dragon since they're laying back on the steps- How's your day going Pinwheel?

[Pinwheel] - No

[Doc] Okay then...

[Deer] Giggles a little-

[Splender] Creates an opening and goes through-

[Doc] Calls after him- did she eat already?

[Splender] - I think so!

[Doc] Sneaks a hand over to scritch her ruff-

[Pinwheel] Stiffens and then relaxes with a little trill-

[Doc] Did you get a chance to play in the scratchy grass?

[Pinwheel] Trills and rolls over, accidentally falling down the last few steps-

[Doc] Sits up - Whoah! Careful! Are you okay?

[Pinwheel] Huffs- No

[Doc] Then I'll check on you. - Touches her gently as if examining her and then scratches her ruff with both hands.

[Pinwheel] Neck stretches out happily-

[Deer] - She's gotten much better lately

[Doc] She's getting more exercise, and the attention she needs. I think she was just full of energy and not getting to run around enough.

[Pinwheel] Moves away from the scratches to sniff around-

[Doc] I have an idea. - Xe pops out one of the floor blocks and replaces it with a grass block from the creative- How's that?

[Pinwheel] Goes right over to it and just starts rolling around-

[Doc] See? Happy dragon.

[Deer] - It's adorable how her second word is her friends name

[Doc] That too. I'm just glad she made a friend. Ironic that's it's the only other dragon on the seed with a venomous bite

[Deer] - I wonder if that's why they bonded...

[Doc] Who knows? But I don't want her to be lonely and mad. I know Splender can be a bit... overwhelming at times.

[Deer] - That he can be- Leans against Doc

[Doc] Threads an arm around her shoulder and relaxes against her- Best to enjoy the peaceful moments while they last.

[Deer] - Absolutely

[Splender] Is walking with Sally to LJ's circus, singing a silly song with her-

[Herabrine] Is playing at one of the little booths, basically squirting the targets with little streams of water from a nearby puddle.

[Sally] Gets quieter when she see's Hera-

[Splender] - Hello!

[Herabrine] Hi Splender. -Looks at Sally - Oh man... Is your brother visiting again?

[Splender] - Nope!  Sally is on her own little visit!  Do you know where LJ is?

[Herabrine] No Ej this time either? I bet Doc's feeling lucky then. Heh. I'm not sure. He's around here someplace.

[Splender] - Well then we should go find him!- He twirls Sally around a bit

[Herabrine] Flies up a little so she's closer to Splenders level and looks around- Okay

[Splender] Goes investigating through some tents until they enter the main tent- I still don't see him...

[LJ] Grins from above them and reaches down for Sally-

[Herabrine] Jinks back a little as his rainbow sleeve goes past her- Ha! Trickster.

[LJ] Grabs Sally and tosses her up into the air- Hey kiddo!

[Sally] Laughs happily-

[Splender] - LJ be careful!

[Herabrine] Ah, she's okay. A three block fall is only a heart and a half and she's got ten.

[Splender] - Still...

[LJ] - Ha ha!  So what are you here for kiddo?

[Sally] - Papa's birthday is coming up!

[LJ] - Oh!  That's right!

[Hearbrine] I thought Slender was like... ancient or something? I'm shocked he knows when his birthday is.

[Splender] - He doesn't, but he let Sally choose one for him

[Herabrine] Oh, so, gonna suprise him or something?

[Sally] - Uh huh!  But first I have to find him a present...

[LJ] - And there's no better present finders than Splender and I!

[Herabrine] What have you gotten him in the past? I mean you can't get high tech right? Cause of the EMP?

[Sally] - Books and pictures!

[Herabrine] Hmm... Does his emp blow out redstone?

[Splender] - I wouldn't think so, the torch on CP's door has never had any problems...

[Herabrine] Does some gentle loops in the air thinking- We could make something then? What's a good 'dad' gift?

[Sally] Macaroni art!

[Herabrine] What's a macaroni? -chuckles- we could find him an amusing tie?

[Splender] Gives her a mental burst of macaroni art- I know brother will love anything you get him Sally

[Herabrine] Just floats there turning the image over in her mind - that's weird..

[LJ] - Let's see here, we might be able to find some books he doesn't have yet...

[Herabrine] I've never had a dad.... I'm just familar with the cliches... What does he usually read anyway?

[Splender] - Boring stuff

[Herabrine] Well that's no fun... does Slender actually have a sense of humor?

[LJ] - His own

[Herabrine] I get it... Okay here's a thought, what's his most common complaint?

[Splender] - Depends on the day

[Herabrine] Motions for him to elaborate-

[Splender] - It depends on the day and who's in the house.  Some days he's grumbling over us, his brothers, or the damages done to the manor, or the SCP, or even how much food we're going through!

[Herabrine] Nothing to him personally? He's old, isn't he creaky at all?

[Splender] - Things like that don't really affect us until we get as old as our great grandfather!

[Herabrine] Giggles - I'm just imagining him first thing in the morning shuffling around in slippers and a robe....

[Splender] - He occasionally does!  Especially if he's recently been in a more difficult fight recently

[Herabrine] Yeah... nobody looks good first thing in the morning.

[Splender] - And depending on how many bathrooms are functioning in the manor will determine how grumpy he is about the fighting in the hallways

[Herabrine] He doesn't have his own bathroom? Maybe we should get him a really tall toilet!

[Splender] - Oh he does, but the halls can get rather loud if the others have to share a bathroom due to them breaking some of them

[Herabrine] Sounds like you need someone to expand the house...

[Splender] - CP did a couple of times, but that's just how it is in the manor.  Every room has it's own small bathroom attatched

[Herabrine] I was just going to ask, it would have been a wasted opportunity if he'd never been asked to build anything out there.

[Splender] - Well, we have some time to brainstorm so let's just keep thinking!

[LJ] Has wandered off with Sally to play at one of the stalls-

[Herabrine] You know... I've heard TLOT can use redstone to make stuff vibrate...

[Splender] - Like a joy buzzer?

[Herabrine] How about a whole chair? Like a massager thingie?

[Splender] Thinks for a moment- That is a possibility...

[Herabrine] Does he already have a huge chair someplace?

[Splender] - Oh yes, a few

[Herabrine] If you nab one, we can probably alter it.

[Splender] - Got it!  For now though...  Time to play!

[Herabrine] Well you have your choice. Me and Lj got everything fixed up. I think him and the kid got a head start on us too.

[Splender] - Oh that tricky clown!

[Herabrine] Grins- Hell yeah. He's a hoot and a half.

[Splender] - Will you be joining us?

[Herabrine] Sure! I was just killing time anyway. It's weird being in here. It's like when CP and I went out to torment BEN, kinda more detailed.

[Splender] - Oh yes!  Well he is more real world based

[Herabrine] I can't touch my hair, I get all distracted... It's so much...

[Splender] - Ha ha!  I'm sure you'd get used to it if you spent more time there!

[Herabrine] Yeah, maybe. I think I'll stick to astral projecting irl. I heard about the hell you gotta go through to stay out there.

[Splender] - It's your choice.

[Lie] Has entered the castle looking for Doc- Doc? Hello?

[Doc] Is keeping an eye on Pinwheel and making more rock candy- Well I'm popular today... - louder- Down here Lie!

[Lie] Goes on down and skirts around Pinwheel who is snoozing- Hey Doc, I was wondering if you had any more pastries about? We seem to have run out of them at my place

[Doc] Sure! I keep that kind of thing hidden around the house if Yaunfen gets hungry. Try the trunk by the anvil.

[Lie] Goes over to check- So I saw that you went back out again after we got the gun for Ever, what was that about?

[Doc] Shudders - Hg wanted a goat and I took him and Crim out to get one. It was my bad for going to a physics game...

[Lie] - What happened?

[Doc] Everyone that went got banged up from being flung around just trying to walk.

[Lie] Can't stop her laugh- And you brought something that physics breaking here?

[Doc] It's a live goat. Hg wanted it. It seemed normal enough and I haven't heard any complaints since he took it away.

[Lie] - So anything else of interest happen?

[Doc] Yes! I got menaced by some kind of monster! And we got the hell out of there pretty damn quick.

[Lie] - Monster?

[Doc] Shakes hir head vigorously - it was huge! With creepy spindly legs, and nubby horns, and it stuck a big blue tongue out at us!  

[Lie] - ... Show me mentally?

[Doc] Thinks about it, but the memory is distorted by hir fear and the creature looks far more menacing-

[Lie] - Okay that didn't help... What color was it?

[Doc] Yellow, with brown blotches. It was so skinny and weird!

[Lie] - Did it have a really long neck?

[Doc] It did! Long and slender everything! - Holds hir shoulders - it was horrible!

[Lie] - ... How the hell did you run into a giraffe in a game about goats!?

[Doc] I don't know?! Is that what it's called: a gi-raft?

[Lie] Gives Doc a mental image of one- They are real creatures Doc

[Doc] Makes a small cry of alarm- They're real?!!

[Lie] - Yes, and they are plant eaters and relatively peaceful... Maybe we need to take you to a zoo...

[Doc] What's a zoo?

[Lie] - It's a place where humans gather animals from all over the world so everyday people have a chance to see what they normally wouldn't be able to.

[Doc] Looks thoughtful- is that... Safe?

[Lie] - Oh yes, in fact a lot of animals there are ones that were rescued as babies and unable to survive in the wild, or are endangered and need protection and help raise their numbers

[Doc] That sounds kind of nice... What's the catch?

[Lie] - What do you mean?

[Doc] I don't know, I guess I'm just having a bitter day.

[Lie] - Well we could go to one if you wanted

[Doc] It sounds nice but... - gestures to Pinwheel

[Deer] Comes back- Oh, hello Lie

[Lie] - Hello Deer

[HG] -come into the room looking for plant to water-

[Doc] Hey there Hg, come to give the vines a little sprinkle?

[HG] yep what are you doing?

[Doc] Making candy and watching Pinwheel sleep.

[Lie] - Were also discussing going to a zoo

[HG] what's a zoo?

[Deer] Smiles at Pinwheel-

[Lie] - A place with lots of animals

[HG] I want to see that.

[Lie] - Well it might be awhile since Doc is babysitting...

[Doc] Sighs- I kinda promised Splender...

[Deer] - I can watch Pinwheel

[Doc] Are you sure? I feel bad running all around out there and leaving you behind.

[Deer] - I'll be fine, go

[Doc] Kisses her- Thank you. Here, take these just in case- hands her some of the rainbow fruits- hopefully she'll sleep the whole time and never miss me.

[Deer] - If she does I'll offer to take her to Crim

[Doc] Then I guess I'm ready when you guys are-

[Lie] - Doc?

[Doc] Yes?

[HG] -I am ready-

[Lie] - Clothes?

[Doc] Wilts- aw nuts... I'll go change. - Traipses up the steps

[HG] do I have to change?

[Lie] Looks at HG- Do you have anything cleaner?

[HG] -looks at his clothes- no

[Lie] - I guess what your wearing will have to do then...

[Doc] Comes back down in a simple t-shirt, soft shoes and shorts- okay... I'm ready. Should I bring anything? I emptied my inventory by half.

[Lie] - Money and maybe some snacks... Oh! And your contacts.

[HG] -puts on his sunglasses-

[Doc] Makes a mean little smile- can't we take Cps credit card?

[Lie] - He already gave me a copy of it

[Doc] Woo! Jackpot! - puts hir contacts in- ready!

[Lie] Puts on her sunglasses and concentrates, opening a portal-

[Doc] Strolls through and looks around-

-They come out via a TV advertising some stuff, a short walk to the entrance of the zoo which has a bit of a line-

[HG] whoa that's a lot of people

[Doc] Smooths hir hair a little and takes a nervous breath at the sight of so many humans

[Lie] - Not really...

[Lie] Leads them into the line and it isn't long before they are at the front. Unfortunately there's a mother grilling the girl behind the glass for all of the Showtime's and animal walks being held that day-

[Doc] Gives the worker a sympathetic look over the woman's shoulder, and then mouths along with the loud woman just for giggles.  

[HG] -giggles at what doc is doing-

[Lie] Nudges Doc as another line opens and they move to it. Lie buys three tickets and grabs a map as well before passing out the tickets- Here you guys go

[Doc] turns the little piece of paper over curiously and follows Lie

[HG] -hold his ticket- what do I do with this?

[Lie] Takes her ticket and scans it's barcode at the gate which let's her through- It's too show that we paid for entrance, it also tells the zoo how many people have visited that day

[HG] ah -follows lie-

[Doc] just trading with villagers and collecting data. That's sensible.

-The entrance to the zoo is large with trees and a large gift shop to the left-

[Lie] Looks at the map- Looks like the path is fairly circular, so which way do you want to go first?- A peacock struts past them

[Doc] Darts behind Lie to avoid the peacock

[HG] left?

[Lie] - Left it is then- She starts leading them that way towards an area marked for marine animals

[Doc] Keeps an eye on the peacock, worried it will follow them-

-The peacock chases after some spilled popcorn before a keeper can clean it up- -A building looms up before then and Lie pushes open the door where a wall of heat meets them. They are instantly thrust into the shallow waters of the tropics-

[HG] -is looking around with a child like wonderment as he follows-

[Doc] Is a bit self- conscious about hir glitch and ankle stitches showing and is watching the people around them for any sign of threat almost as closely as the animals  - feels like a jungle biome in here

-There's a shallow pool with stingrays in it and a keeper standing nearby-

[Lie] - Well these are tropical animals

[HG] -points to the shallow pool- what are those?

[Doc] look at these guys, they look like moving lilly pads, all flat!

[Keeper] - These are stingrays, would you like to pet them?

[Doc] Are they okay with being petted?

[Keeper] - Oh absolutely, these guys are here for educational purposes. Normally they'd have barbs on the end of their tails, but they've been removed for safety reasons

[HG] -tries to pet the stingrays-

[Lie] Sticks a hand in the water and pets one-

[Doc] Aww, - Xe puts hir hands on the side of the tank to see better and twiddles hir fingers gently in the water

-The rays swim around in a circle, pushing themselves up against the wall looking for treats-

[Doc] Ghosts over one gently and says quietly- we all have to make sacrifices I guess...

[HG] -tries to pet all of the rays-

[Keeper] Reaches in and gently pulls one out to show the mouth on the underside- These guys are bottom feeders, that's why they look like this

[Lie] Giggles as one investigates her fingers-

[Doc] Smiles at their silly squared off mouths - even green sea pancakes gotta eat.

[HG] there little faces are so cute

[Keeper] - Yup, every animal has its role to play in the ecosystem to keep it running smoothly, that's why we have so many conservation programs

[Doc] Thinks fondly of Deerheart - take care of the land, and it will take of you...

[Keeper] - Exactly

[Lie] - Come on, we still have a lot to see

[HG] okay -follows lie-

-They step onto a slightly raised wooden walkway where tiny sharks swim below them of multiple species-

[HG] -looks at the sharks-

[Doc] looks down at them - those are some sleek looking fish

[Lie] - They're sharks, they've been around for over 65 million years. One of the most efficient predators there is

[HG] predators?

[Lie] - Animals that kill others to survive

[Doc] quietly- hostile mobs behind glass...

[HG] -watches the sharks swim-

-The next room is darker with a massive glass wall with several larger species of shark swimming behind it-

[Doc] Goes right up to the glass and looks up in awe-

[HG] they are huge

[Lie] - These guys are adults, and not even the largest types of shark

[Doc] Is watching a hammerhead sway back and forth as it swims- I bet they're still not as big as Basil though

[HG] -points at the hammer head- why is it's head flat?

-A lemon shark swims closer and opens its mouth near the glass-

[Lie] - I don't know, that's just how it evolved

[Doc] Looks at the lemon shark and lets out a small laugh before poking Lie- now that's a familiar grin, isn't it? - Xe shows hir own triangular teeth as Xe smiles at Lie playfully

[Lie] Smiles as well- Oh I just got a wonderful idea. I'm betting we can buy some shark teeth in the gift shop... Wanna prank TLOT?

[HG] prank him how?

[Doc] What did you have in mind Lie?

[Lie] - We go back, acting a bit panicked and say there was an accident and show him the teeth, acting like they came out of your mouth

[HG] what about fake blood?

[Doc] Pffft! Or I could make you a set of falsies with them and you could shock him that way, that's actually funnier since he gave you his energy.  

[Lie] - I don't think they'd fit in my mouth...

[Doc] Hmmm. Let me think about it...

[Lie] Moves on to the next section, it seems to be an empty enclosure until something darts past the glass-

[Doc] What the?!

[HG] -looks scared-

-The shape comes back around and stops this time, it's a seal and it's looking at them curiously-

[HG] -eyes light up- awe it's so cute

[Doc] it's so chubby!

[Lie] - Well I think these guys are meant for a bit colder water- She looks behind them where there's a tropical fish display

[HG] -is still staring at the seal-

-A couple more seals swim into sight as well-

[HG] -waves at the seals-

-One seal turns a circle-

[Doc] Actually... This looks familiar too. Lie? Doesn't it kind of look like that black sea monster that lives near Dawn's island? If you stretched the neck out?

[Lie] - Kinda?

[HG] daw so cute

-A gate starts opening at the far end of the enclosure-

[Doc] What's going on over there?

-There's another tank behind the gate and from it a pair of belugas swim through-

[Doc] Okay, those are kinda weird. Are they runts? They're so pale.

[Lie] - Nope, those are a type of arctic whale

[HG] -is watching all the fish and belugas-

-The belugas swim around with the seals-

[Lie] - Come on, there's a lot more to see

[HG] -follows lie- there are so many cute animals

-They leave the aquarium and enter a more jungle like area, they can hear monkeys from the monkey house-

[Doc] That's a weird noise

[HG] what was that noise

[Lie] - Yeah, but they are related to humans- They pass a few bird enclosures

[Doc] Nods- humans do make silly noises. Especially when you surprise one- snickers

[HG] -is looking at the birds as they pass-

[Lie] Opens the for to the monkey house. In front of them is a picture showing them what different expressions mean to the monkeys and apes and a warning not to grin teeth at them-

[Doc] stone-faced, got it. Just like humans in that too... Little Misunderstandings can be such a huge deal.

[Lie] - Well these are humans closest relatives...- She looks over at some chimps playing- Specifically these guys

[Doc] it seems like saying I see the resemblance would be insulting...

[HG] -is watching them play-

[Lie] Moves on to the gorillas-

[Doc] These guys remind me of Buff. They must work out. - elbows Lie playfully

[Lie] - Yeah, these guys are one of the strongest

-There's some screeching behind them as a couple of tamarins play fight -

[Doc] Watches the monkeys cautiously-

[Lie] Reads the plaque next to the glass- Those are golden tamarins

-Another group of people enter the monkey house with kids and Lie ushers the others out.  The next section is very African themed-

[HG] -is trying to look at everything-

[Lie] Spots something in the bushes- Awww, look at that

-There's a large brown bird under the leaves of the bushes and some cheeping coming from under her-

[HG] -point a the bird- what is that?

[Lie] - That's a peahen, a female peacock.  And I think she has babies

[Doc] That's a girl peacock? Oh I get it. Camoflage for sitting on the nest and hiding it.

[Lie] - Yeah, and she's a bit smaller too

[Doc] Well best not to upset a mama with babies. We should go.

[HG] don't we have a peacock?

[Lie] - Yeah- She turns around a corner and in front of them are two exibits, one on either side.  One houses the hippo's with an underwater viewing station, and the other houses the elephants

[Doc] Lots of chubby critters... Hey... why are those mammoths naked?

[Lie] - Because they're not mammoths, they're elephants.  They are related though

[Doc] Oh... I think the mammoths are cooler. The fur cubes make nice blankets and cushions too.

[HG] -points at the hippos- they look friendly

[Lie] - These guys are the largest land animals there are...  And those guys are one of the deadliest HG

[Doc] Do they step on people?

[HG] -hides from them behind lie-

[Lie] - Nope, usually trample, drown, or plain bite them to death

-One hippo opens it's mouth wide-

[Doc] Those are some big teeth.

[HG] -refuses to look at the hippos and keeps hideing from them-

[Lie] - Let's go to the underwater viewing station, we can watch them swim

[HG] no they scary

[Lie] - It's okay, we'll be safely behind glass.  This is one reason why zoo's exist, so animals can be viewed without humans being put in danger

[Doc] Yeah come on Hg, we'll be quick.

[HG] -whines but follows because he doesn't want to lose doc and lie-

-They go down a few stairs and enter a viewing area that lets them see under the water.  One hippo is sleeping on the bottom while another swims around a bit-

[Lie] - See HG?  Nothing to be worried about

[Doc] giggles- They look kinda funny with all their floaty jiggly fat.

[HG] -is still a little shaky-

-The wall behind them is full of factoids-

[Doc] Pauses to read the notice and then looks closer to see if there are any baby hippos in the tank.

[Lie] - Looking for something in particular Doc?

[Doc] Kinda curious to see what the little ones look like. I bet they're cute.

[Lie] Reads the wall- Looks like they had one, and they have some pictures over there

[Doc] Goes to look- awwwwww

[HG] -is trying to keep away from the glass-

[Lie] - Maybe we should move on, HG doesn't look so good

[HG] yes I want to go

[Doc] Lead the way then Lie.

[Lie] Leads them out the other side and they're facing the elephant enclosure and they hear laughing-

[HG] laughing?

[Doc] Are they doing something silly?

[Offender] - Arc!  Arc!  Look!  Look at the size of it!

[Arc] Groans and goes back to sketching-

[chininirisart]

Backfire | iii: Morning > On FF.Net and AO3

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin/Attack on Titan Pairing: Levi/Mikasa Ackerman | RivaMika Genres: General/Romance Universe: Canon divergent AU Warning/Notes: in which I overshare Status: In-progress Summary: To destroy the evidences, they must join the Survey Corps and bond with Humanity’s Strongest.

Levi wakes up earlier than usual, the rising sun outside begins lightening the dark atmosphere of the room and rouses him from sleep. Slowly, he sits up and glances around the room covered in penumbra, trying to see if Furlan is awake, but it seems that everyone is still asleep. He is quiet as he climbs down from the top bunker and grabs his new set of clothes, his uniform, and heads out the room, trekking his way to the communal showers to start his day. Torches are still lit in the hallways, illuminating the path he needs to take, passing by closed door after closed door of shared rooms.

He is quick to shower, making use of the empty bathroom as it gives him a renewed sense of privacy after spending only a day surrounded by so many people and sharing a bedroom with other three. It is not as if back in the underground they had a room for each, and it was fine sharing a bedroom with Furlan, but too much people in one space was deeply unsettling. Levi is a man that enjoys being alone, and if there is someone else with him, he enjoys it when it is quiet. It is easy to hide in the slums from wandering eyes and gossiping mouths, but here in the headquarters there are too many soldiers that are much too curious and not so subtle.

Running a towel through his hair to dry the excess water, he changes into the clothes he was given and throws the damp cotton piece over his shoulder before leaving the bathroom. The corridors are still and quiet at the crack of dawn with him being the only one wandering about. Maybe if given the opportunity, they can use this time of the day to search Erwin’s office; he keeps the thought stored in a corner of his mind so he can tell it to his friends later when they start planning their course of action, and for the moment being, lets his feet carry him out through one of the many doors of the structure as he tries to find the hanging line he saw on the previous day when he and Furlan were doing their first rounds to know the terrain.

He halts as he turns around the corner, the line just within his sight, but the scene behind it is too captivating. The sun is peeking over the line of the horizon, its light stretching across the grass still beaded with dew, making it shimmer and sparkle under the ever-changing sky. Dark blue gives way to colorful hues, painting the clouds lilac, pink and orange, contrasting beautifully with the dark green pine trees in the distance. He holds his breath for a moment, glad and only dimly aware that he is alone in a time like this, and works to hang his towel on the line without ever looking away from the first sunrise he ever witnessed in his life.

After a moment or two admiring the view, complete with the early riser birds soaring the skies, he inhales deeply through his nose and squares his shoulder, turning around to return to the castle. He resists the urge to look back before he turns around the same bend as before and goes up the few stone steps, letting the cooler air inside make the hairs of his arm stand on end. It is as if he is in a completely different world out there, even when compared to the inside of the castle. The sunrise filled his body with something that he could not quite place and he wondered, in the back of his mind, if his mother would have liked seeing it, too.

Levi slows down to a stop behind the ajar door that leads to the mess hall, feeling another presence on the other side. Quiet as a rat, he pushes it open a little further and peeks inside, clear eyes searching the empty room, and just as they were drawn to her that night, his gaze is pulled in her direction as if by a magnetic force, finding her sitting by one of the windows and eyes darting across a file in her hand.

“Levi.” He mentally curses for letting himself be caught and steps further into the hall, knowing that there is no point in pretending he was never there in the first place. “Activities only start in forty minutes.”

His usually silent footsteps seem to echo among the walls that surround them and he nearly flinches at the sound. “You’re up this early as well.”

“True.” Her lips curl in a ghost of a smile, and he lets his eyes wander over the notepad and pencil to her right, and the teapot and cup made of china set before her. “The difference is that I pulled an all-nighter.” His eyes shoot up to her face taking in the slight shadows under her eyes, shadows that were not there the day before; the silver specs in her irises are dull and that is all he gathers before they disappear behind thin eyelids. “There is one more cup in the sink. Help yourself.”

With a nod, he steps away from her and wanders into the kitchen that smells like burning logs and spices. He washes the cup for good measure, looks around the place suspiciously as if the document can be hidden in a jar of sugar or coffee, and then returns to the hall before she notices he has been gone for too long, quietly claiming the seat across from hers. She reaches for the teapot and pours him some tea, steam wafting up from the amber liquid to his face and bringing the earthy smell of the drink to his nose. He holds the cup by the rim, blows into it and takes a sip, letting the bitter taste spread around his tongue and mouth before swallowing.

Ackerman is just finished refilling her own cup when she speaks. “It’s black tea,” she provides, “you’ll get used to it after a while.” Her finger hooks around the handle and brings the china up to her lips.

Levi has to look away when they purse to blow air to cool it down, feeling a spark of irritation at himself. He has been with women before, but it is bordering the lines of ridiculous how his body seems to react to her and she does nothing out of the ordinary to have his eyes linger on her mouth or her neck securely hidden away by the scarf. If he had not seen her that night, if he had picked someone else to rob, he is sure he would not find himself gravitating towards her.

He has more self-control than this.

“Thanks for not selling the jewels.” She returns the cup to the tabletop after taking a sip, eyes back on the document in her grasp. “They were borrowed.” Her gaze flickers up to him for a moment, “We would be in trouble if you had gotten rid of them.”

He clicks his tongue against his teeth, crossing his arms and resting them on the wood between them. “Should have sold them, then, just to spite you, brat.” She gives him a withering look and he glances out the window to his right. “How long have you been part of the Survey Corps?”

“Seven years.” He counts it in his head, coming to the conclusion that she is twenty three years old. Just four years younger than him, three years younger than Furlan and five years older than Isabel. She is actually young and he is surprised to know someone survived this long in this branch of the military; he decides to disclose this thought to her.

“That’s a pretty damn long time.”

She breathes out a short laugh and flips the page. “Yes, it is. Mike says I’m too stubborn to die.”

“Oh?” Levi makes to drink his tea again but finds that the cup is empty. “Are you?”

Her hand lightly pushes the teapot in his direction in silent permission and she speaks without looking at him. “Very. I had to be actually moved to Captain Erwin’s team for about two years so I could be disciplined.”

His eyes zero on her calm expression, now getting truly interested on the topic. Perhaps approaching her can become a way to get the document they need. “Is that so?”

“Yes, I had a tendency to disobey orders.” Her dark eyes find his blue ones and hold him immobile. “I’d advise you to do what you’re told.”

With a nod, he takes one last sip of his drink and makes to stand. “I don’t take orders well, Ackerman.”

She lightly shakes her head at the lack of title and at his statement, but says something else instead. “You don’t have to leave, breakfast will be served soon.” She eyes the teapot next, “You can drink the rest if you want, and I had tea all night long to keep me awake for another twenty four hours.”

Levi slowly sinks back down on the bench and accepts her proposal. He drinks as he lets his gaze roam over the scenery outside, watches stray leaves being carried away by the wind and the blades of grass dancing to the same rhythm. After a while the sound of pencil on paper fills his ears as she scribbles down on her notepad, sometimes accompanied by the rustle of the document as she flips page after page looking for certain details. The cup is warm on his hands, heating his palms as they wrap around the china. He looks down at it, recalling the one cup he bought long ago and the handle snapped in his hand.

He refilled her cup one last time, nodding at the small smile of thanks she shot in his direction and trying to stamp the reactions sparking inside him. The door of the mess hall opened and in came the cadets on kitchen duty that morning, hands falling away from sleepy eyes and hunched backs straightening as they shifted their body towards the superior presented and saluted. Ackerman looks up at them and nods, eyes soft but lips neutral, and returns to her paperwork as they shuffle inside the kitchen, shooting glances in his direction specifically.

The door closes behind them when she speaks. “They’ll get used to your presence eventually.” She assures as she places the pencil down by her notepad and shifts in her seat. “Give it time.”

“I’m not bothered by it.” The look she gives him clearly says that she doubts his words, but none of them says anything afterwards.

A pair of voices he knows very well approach the room then, pushing the wooden door open. “Ah, here you are.” Isabel says as she stifles a yawn, and when her gaze falls on the woman sitting across from her friend, she scrambles into a salute. “M-Morning, Captain Ackerman!”

Furlan manages to give her a more polished and collected salute as he smiles pleasantly at her. “Good morning, captain.”

“Good morning, Magnolia, Church.” She gathers her things together and stands up, pinching her eyebrows minimally as her bones pop back into place.  

As she reaches for her teacup, his hand appears in her line of vision, blocking her path. “We’ll take care of it.” He says nonchalantly, not looking her in the face.

Her brows shoot up briefly. “Alright,” her hand falls to her side and she takes a step back from the table. “Breakfast should be ready soon.” These are her parting words. With a nod to each, she walks unhurriedly to the door and leaves it ajar as she steps into the hallway and out of sight.

Hearing the noises coming from the kitchen, Furlan only shoots him a suggestive look as he plops down beside him, but a mild glare from Levi is enough for him to back down. Isabel saunters over to the other side of the table and slides onto the bench. “Ah, I can’t wait for our first expedition!”

“Isabel–”

“I know why we’re here,” she hisses, cutting him off, and crosses her arms across her chest and turns her head away. “It doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it.”

Their friend leans forward and speaks in an attempt to distract her. “Why do you want to go out so much?”

There is a glimmer in her eyes as she speaks, “Aside from seeing the world outside, of course, the girls in my room were talking about her last night.” That makes Furlan perk up and he leans in a little closer. “They said she’s amazing, so fast you don’t see her coming until she’s leaving.”

“Wow...”

“It’s impossible for someone to be that good.”

Isabel pins him with a sour look, “Why do you have to be so boring sometimes?”

“That’s part of the package,” Church explains with a chuckle and they both start talking about what it would be like to go beyond the walls for the first time.

Shortly after, the mess hall started filling with cadets. The sound rose drastically in volume and with it, whatever good mood Levi had been maintaining that morning was gone in the blink of an eye. Soldier after soldier filed inside the room, occupying whatever vacant spaces they could find. Still, none of them dared approach their table or even claim the many seats available there.

Breakfast is a bland oatmeal porridge and more bread. They knew the food would not be better than it was in the underground, but at least they have the chance of eating more times a day without worrying that it will run out and the view of the sky makes up for it. He thinks back to the sunrise he saw that morning, to the caress of the sunlight on his face, and makes a mental note of waking up early everyday so he will not miss it.

Levi sees her there again, this time sitting with her team, ever calm and quiet as they talk loudly and laugh together. He takes a bite out of his bread and forces his gaze to focus elsewhere.

[thegirlsinthefirehouse]

Descendants, Chapter 9

-----

The pasta came back up at about 2:43 in the morning. 

Crab and cheese were not pleasant coming back up, thought Abby as she rested her face against the sink cabinet. The tile was cool to her forehead and she wanted to stay there. But instead, she turned on the sink and washed her face. Her mouth felt even grosser than her skin did, but sweat was coming off her forehead and trickling down into her eyes so she tended to that first. Abby tried to pick up her toothbrush, but the thought of the paste made her gag. She scanned the cabinet and picked up Holtz’s, which was mild in flavor and not strong mint like hers. The fact that she could stand it in her mouth was a blessing as it helped with the ick factor.

The soft strands of “It Had to Be You” played from the kitchen as she stepped out of the bathroom. Holtzmann looked so sleepy sitting at the table as she handed Abby a cup of dark liquid. Holtz knew Abby loved the song, and it had made her smile as she entered the room.

“It’s flat soda,” she said as Abby took the glass from her. “It should help settle your stomach a little.” She sipped on the beverage, trying not to make a face at how not appealing it was.

“Why did it pick today to make me nauseous?” Abby said to Holtz before looking down to her abdomen. “Could you have waited at least few more days?”

“I don’t think our bodies have a timer for that sort of thing,” said Holtzmann, smiling. “That isn’t exactly the baby’s fault.” She put a hand over Abby’s stomach.

“You aren’t to blame, are you?” Abby took another sip.

“I wasn’t throwing up before I was pregnant.” “Not unless there were shots involved.”

“Oh geez,” said Abby, grimacing. “I’ve drunk alcohol since we did the insemination, Holtz.” She sat down in the kitchen chair next to her wife.

“Abby, it wasn’t excessive,” said Holtz. “I don’t think it will hurt anything.”

Abby looked sad and buried her head into Holtz’s chest. The small sniff Holtzmann heard from her boobs made her rub the back of Abby’s head and neck.

“This hasn’t been the best of days to start this grand baby adventure, is it?”

“No,” said Abby pitifully. Holtz chuckled softly. When Abby looked up with a glare, Holtzmann rubbed her face with her fingertips.

“I love when you lean on me like this.”

Abby didn’t say anything to that, just took comfort in Holtz’s presence.

“You’re still not feeling all that great, are you?” Abby shook her head at Holtz’s question.

“I think I’m going back to bed,” she said. “See if maybe I can sleep this off.”

Holtzmann nodded and Abby got up and headed back to the bedroom. Holtz picked up her cell phone off the table and starting searching for morning sickness remedies.

-----

When Abby woke up the next morning, she wasn’t surprised that she was still feeling nauseated. She was surprised however that it was after ten and Holtzmann was nowhere around. Why had Holtzmann let her sleep that long? Abby turned over to get out of bed, but noticed a few extra things were sitting on her nightstand that wasn't there before. Saltine crackers, some Sprite, and... ginger lollipops.

“Oh Holtz,” she said fondly. Her absolute dork of a wife had been busy. Abby then felt guilty that she probably hadn’t slept since she was nowhere in sight.

Abby sat up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes before putting on her glasses. She grimaced at her stomach churning a little. She had always heard saltines were great for morning sickness. She picked up the box and took out a pack. The salted cracker felt good going down. It was almost a relief to eat something. Then, so had the mac and cheese. But that was probably because she had been hungry for anything at all and touched that Holtz cooked something homemade for her.

“Please don’t make me throw up this,” she said, rubbing her abdomen. “Or it’s going to be a long day.” She picked up one of the Sprites and took a sip, happy that it didn’t automatically make her want to puke. Abby carefully got up after about ten minutes of hoping that everything stayed down. She was thankful when she didn’t feel overly queasy and headed to their small closet. She really wanted to shower.

-----

Holtzmann was happy when she saw Abby come downstairs. A lollipop stick was stuck between her lips and she looked better than she had really early that morning. Abby waved from the doorway as she went down to the first floor. The blonde engineer picked up her plasma cutter to cut some copper she needed for a fitting with a smile.

Erin greeted Abby from her desk as she came down. Patty was over by Kevin. She had a large stack of papers and he was squinting his eyes in concentration. She figured that Patty had given him some copying to do and he was trying to focus on the details. Abby went over to Erin’s desk.

“Candy already this morning?” she asked, gesturing to the lollipop.

“Ginger,” said Abby. Recollection lit up in Erin’s eyes and she nodded.

“Well, Holtzmann’s interview yesterday was well received,” she said. “I don’t know if you’ve been online to see or not.” Abby shook her head.

“I thought as much,” said the red head. “She followed your notes well.”

“I watched a little of it in the studio. It was good publicity,” Abby said. “And they let us air our commercial for nothing.” Erin grinned at that. They had let Patty be the star of it by herself, and it had gone viral. Everyone was talking about this beautiful and brash woman who sold the idea of the Ghostbusters being their insurance against ghosts, saving them from the past, the present, and in the future.

“You have any plans for the day?” asked Erin.

“Besides trying not to be sick to my stomach again?” Abby sighed. “You’ve been throwing up already today?” Erin frowned. A nod was all she got in response.

“You want to write a third book together and keep your mind off things?” smirked Erin.

“Then who’s going to keep an eye on Kevin?” asked Abby.

“We’ll let Patty and Holtz do that.”

“But then who’s going to keep an eye on Holtzmann?” Erin laughed at that.

“She’ll just have to keep an eye out for her own fires.” She pushed a piece of hair back behind her ear. “By the way, Mom said to tell you congratulations.” Abby closed her eyes and groaned. “Erin, please tell me you didn’t.”

“I may... have mentioned that you and Holtzmann were trying, and she asked about it last night when she called.”

“Mine and Holtz’s families don’t even know yet!”

“I’m sorry!” said Erin with a whimper. “I didn’t think.” She picked up her cell. “I’ll call her back and let her know not to say anything.” She looked sheepish for a second, but then her shoulders seized up.

“She had her garden club meeting this morning. And you know how the old ladies love their gin and tonic at brunch...”

Abby groaned. “So all of Battle Creek will know before nightfall.”

“Sort of like how they knew I was going to be getting married before I even knew I was going to be engaged?”

“I wasn’t the one who told.”

“Well, yes, Patty was to blame for that one when she and Holtz went to pick up the cupcakes and chocolate covered strawberries. But Patty wasn’t the one who David told he was taking me back to Michigan to ask for my hand in marriage.”

“I guess maybe us flying down ahead of you and David perhaps wasn’t the best of plans.”

“No... but it was nice.”

“I’m turning off my cell phone and telling Holtz to do the same,” said Abby, pulling it out of her jeans pocket. “Mom has your number, so it’d probably be best if you did too.”

“Does she have the Ghostbusters main number?”

Abby flinched when the phone rang.

“Yes.”

“That’s not her,” said Erin.

“What if your mom called my mom?”

“Then it could be her?” said Erin sheepishly, hiding behind her hands.

“Abby!” said Kevin. “Phone!”

“I’m not here!” said Abby loudly. “No really, I’m not here.” Abby headed towards the stairs as fast as she could, much to Erin’s amusement. Kevin jogged up to Erin’s desk.

“Where is Abby going?” he asked. “Her mom’s on the phone. She sounds like a sweet old lady.”

“Abby is running away from her responsibilities,” said Erin with a smile for their secretary. She got an idea and a slow grin appeared on her face. “Let me talk to her.” Erin got up and followed Kevin back to the phone. She took it off of hold.

“Mrs. Yates? This is Erin. Hi. It has been a few months, yes. Abby’s not in at the moment, and neither is Holtzmann. They’re on a call. Oh, you talked to Mom? Yeah, I talked to her last night. Oh, she mentioned-- she mentioned that Abby was pregnant? Yeah, it’s been a rough couple of days. Mood swings, really bad nausea... the whole nine yards. Holtz’s freaking out a little bit. She didn’t realize she was still-- oh yeah. Definite surprise. Total shock. .... Oh. Well, I apologize for that. I hadn’t known that they weren’t telling anyone yet. I’m sure they’re taking it one day at a time. I think Abby has a confirmation appointment later this week. Okay, I’ll let her know you called. And yes, I’ll tell her that she shouldn’t be out doing our... yes, dangerous job in her condition.” Erin nearly started laughing when she heard Patty cackling from the conference table.

“I’ll make sure she calls you. I hope you have a good afternoon too.” Erin hung up the phone and immediately burst into very loud giggles.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” said Patty, holding her sides. “Lord, I haven’t laughed like that in days.” She grinned at Erin, who sat back down at her desk. “I wish Holtzy could have heard it.”

“Oh, Holtzy did hear it,” said a voice. They looked up and saw Holtzmann standing behind Erin. She put her elbow on Erin’s shoulder while brandishing a lit blowtorch.

“Did I just hear you imply that I physically got Abby pregnant?”

“Well, technically you did,” said Patty. Erin took the blow torch away from Holtz and put it far away from her after turning it off.

“Excellent,” grinned Holtzmann. “This is going to make the family get-togethers so much more fun.”

“Did Abby hear... ?” asked Erin, biting her lip.

“No, she went upstairs to grab something to drink.”

“She’s going to kill me when she finds out,” said Erin.

“I’m already planning your funeral. There will be a spooktacular light show,” Holtzmann teased. She took back the blowtorch and headed up to her lab.

“Well, it could be worse,” said Erin to Patty, who was looking weirdly at Holtz's back. “At least Holtzmann would let me pass on. Knowing Abby, she’d figure out some way to keep me here as a ghost and call it payback.” <– Prev | Next –> 

[corrahdarling]

Playing With Fire-- Ch. 23-- Revelations

"Hunter, love, wake up." Tom ran his knuckles down her bare hip, and he felt her stir underneath his hand. "Your phone just went off."

"Hmm? Oh God, what time is it?" She stretched and opened her eyes trying to find the clock in the richly appointed hotel room. "It's 8:30 in the morning?"

"Mmm-hmm... I've been watching you sleep ever since the sun came up."

She propped up on her elbow and reached over to get her phone off the nightstand. "Why did you let me sleep so late, Tom?"

"It's only 8:30! When was I supposed to wake you up?"

"Like... midnight last night. My family's probably worried about me!"

He huffed. "Darling, you're 28 years old. Do you still have a curfew?"

"Of course not... but after all that's happened... and I just went off with you to find a hotel room and never came back!" She squinted her eyes to try and see her bright screen in the darkened room.

"Sweetheart, if you went with me to a hotel, I'm sure they know exactly why you didn't come back..."

"Oh, God, Tom..." Her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment.

He laughed as he kissed her shoulder. "Calm down. You're an adult."

"That's easy for you to say. You're a 35 year old man, you've had more time to be an 'adult' than I have..."

"Oh... ha... ha... You've got jokes this morning, don't you, love?"

She giggled, as she fell back into his arms. Her first text was from her mom last night... who else?

12:08 A.M.

Honey, I'm worried about

you. I know you're an adult.

Just please let me know that

you're okay.

-Mama

Hunter rolled her eyes, as she read the most recent text. It was from Reid.

8:25 A.M.

Mom is cooking dinner for everyone

tonight. Is it okay if Haley comes?

-Reid

8:36 A.M.

Of course! Why wouldn't it

be? I'd love to see her.

-H

"Who's Haley?" Tom asked, as he read her text over her shoulder.

"Haley is Reid's fiancé... she's great. He loves her a lot, and she's perfect for him. She's really sweet, but she can put him in his place when he's being a jerk."

"Oh... nice to know. So I should try and get her on my side?" Tom asked.

Hunter giggled. "Probably wouldn't hurt."

8:39 A.M .

I just didn't know if you'd

be comfortable with much

company yet.

-R

8:40 A.M.

Reid, I'm fine. Really. She's part

of the family! We'll be out later.

-H

Hunter laid in Tom's arms for a few moments, inhaling his scent, and enjoying being in this room with him. No one else on Earth knew they were here... not Henry... not Tom's colleagues... or Hunter's family... they were completely lost in their own little bubble.

She sighed. "I wish we could just stay here forever... just us... under our warm blanket."

"Hmm... me too. I think that your brother and mum would come looking for you with pitchforks and torches at some point, though."

"You're probably right..." She grinned at him. "Tom?"

"Yes, darling?"

"So... my necklace... can I have it back?"

He exhaled. "I'd love for you to have it back... I think there are some things that we need to discuss first, however."

"...like?"

"Well, you used your safe word with me. I'd like to come up with a new one, and I'm sure we'll need to amend our contract..."

"Tom, I loved that necklace. Do we have to have a contract for me to wear it?"

He sighed. "Darling... we've been over that."

"I know, Tom... I don't mind the rules... but why do we have to have that stupid contract?"

"Hunter..."

She sat up, and looked back at him. "Can't you just love me? Why are there so many strings?"

"I do love you."

"Then why isn't that enough? You can't just trust that I'll follow your rules? I mean, if I didn't want to be with you, I wouldn't."

"I know... I just... just let me think about it, alright? Give me a little time, love. We'll find a compromise... please don't ruin this moment now, though." He pulled her back down to lay with him. "We had an amazing night last night, I just want to enjoy laying here with you for a little longer."

She tried to relax, but her frustration was insurmountable. She felt like she took one step forward, and two back with him. He had proposed, but would he ever be ready to fully commit to her, really and truly?

"So, are there any good places to shop here? I don't exactly own many pairs of shorts, and it's way too hot here for jeans."

"We're right here at Southlake Town Square. There are a ton of shops that we can walk to... I'm not really sure what's there, because I was never really able to afford to go..."

"Let's get dressed and go shopping then... but first, a shower!"

She squealed as he threw her over his shoulder and made his way into the bathroom. He scrubbed her from head to toe, and gave her an amazing scalp massage as he washed her hair. She reciprocated, and they dressed, making their way down to the shops.

Tom quickly found what he needed at Brooks Brothers. He picked out several pair of ridiculously expensive shorts, several polo style shirts, a pair of leather flip-flops, and a pair of white canvas sneakers.

"I think I'm set for a few days... what about you, love?"

"Oh, I don't need anything."

"Well, I know for a fact that you didn't bring but a few small items to Texas. You probably need a few things. Also, we have to go to dinner at your mom's tonight. I want you to have something new to wear."

"Tom, I really don't-"

He stepped closer to her, and dropped his voice to a low whisper. "I'm not asking you... I'm telling you. You need some things, and I want to buy them for you. Look, there's Anthropologie over there. Let's go, we don't have to stay long."

She huffed as she turned toward the store and began to walk. She loved this man, but it grated on her nerves how he was always wanting to dote on her. It felt like he was trying to buy her love, but she knew that it didn't come that way. Not the right kind of love, anyway.

She found a lovely, sleeveless, yellow dress that had a beautiful floral paisley print on it. It came above her knees, and was tied perfectly with navy ribbons at the shoulders. She also found a spring-colored striped mini dress that she fell in love with. She handed the hangers to Tom, and he gave the dresses a once-over.

"Only two? That's it?"

"Yes, Tom, that's it. They're like, $200 a piece." She answered hastily.

"Come now, darling, why are you being that way? Get a couple more."

She rolled her eyes, and went to find two more outfits- a green and white sleeveless maxi dress, and an ultra short navy babydoll style dress.

He took the hangers from her, and looked into her eyes. "Maybe you should go wait outside for me."

"Gladly." She replied and quickly exited the store.

He shook his head, and handed the dresses to the sales clerk. While he was in there, he found a pair of white sneakers that matched his, only hers were embellished with rhinestones along the toe, and a couple pair of thong sandals that matched the dresses she got.

After paying the clerk, he grabbed the bags and went to find Hunter outside. She had taken a seat on a bench under a shade tree, and looked miserable. He felt like she was probably angry with him for earlier.

"Okay, darling. Would you like to run in Kendra Scott over there for some jewelry?" When he approached her, he could see that she had been crying. "Whatever is the matter?"

"I'm sorry I was so mean in there, Tom... I don't know what's wrong with me. It's so not like me to snap like that."

He sighed as he took the seat beside her. "It's okay. You've been on quite the emotional roller-coaster over the last few months. I can't say that I'd be any different if I were in your shoes. Let's go get ready, and go to your mom's. That would make you feel better."

She nodded and held his hand as they made their way back up into his hotel room. She chose to wear the short, navy babydoll dress, and her new shiny sneakers. She felt really bad for blowing up at him when she had seen that he had bought her shoes after she threw her fit.

"Are you ready?" He asked through the bathroom door as he slipped on his leather flip-flops.

"I think so... I didn't bring any makeup or anything with me, so I'll have to do that after I get to my mom's."

He kissed her forehead. "You're perfect just the way you are. You don't need makeup, anyway... You glow."

"Thanks." She grinned up at him as he led the way to the black Dodge Challenger he had rented. He opened the door for her, but she looked conflicted.

"Darling? Are you going to get in?"

"I think I'll take my car..."

"Oh..." He closed the door. "Are you not coming back here to spend the night with me?"

"I'm not sure... it depends on how much trouble I'm in from last night."

He laughed, as he walked her to her car a few spaces down. "That's fine. I know you'd like to spend some time with them, anyway... while you're here."

"Tom..."

"I'm sorry... I completely forgot that you aren't coming back to Connecticut with me."

"I told you that straightaway..."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, darling. I forgot! Drive safely." He kissed her lips as he hurried back to his car. She was glad that they went in separate vehicles, because she couldn't contain her tears on the drive. She realized just what a shitty situation she was in... she had decided to stay in Texas, but the man she loved needed to be completely across the country. He had an established life there. He was an important part of that society. She just knew she could never go back there.

She pulled into the driveway, and Reid and Haley were already there. It was going to be weird seeing Reid and Haley together, because she and Henry would always go out with them and do things... but now there was no Henry. There was something better, and they'd learn to love him more than they could ever love Henry.

"Oh my gosh! Hunter!" A little, perky blonde, about the size of Hunter, with an angled pixie cut came fluttering out of the house. She was adorable as always, with her huge smile and perfect winged eyeliner. Hunter always thought she looked more like a rock star’s girlfriend than a lawyer’s, but she loved Haley just like a sister. She pulled Hunter into a tight hug. "I'm so sorry about everything... if you need anything, I'm here. I've missed you so much." She whispered as she held her.

"Thanks Haley..." She pulled away from her. "This is Tom."

She waved at him. "Nice to meet you, Tom."

"Likewise." He smiled at her before reaching for Hunter's hand.

"Well, let's go in. I think Mike has been smoking some ribs and brisket all day... Lily's starting to work on the sides. You look pretty, Hunter. I like your dress!"

"Thanks, Haley..." She looked back at a smiling Tom and rolled her eyes. She loved her brother's fiancé but sometimes she was just a little too sweet.

As soon as the trio walked into the house, Hunter looked at Tom. "I don't want to leave you, but I really need to go to my room for a little while. I'll be right back."

He nodded, and before he could ask any questions, she was gone.

"The men are out back working on the meat, if you'd like to go back there, Tom." Haley told him.

"Uh... okay, thanks." Well, this is going to be uncomfortable. He stepped outside, and both men looked up at him.

Mike spoke first. "Hi there, Tom." He pointed to the cooler. "Take a seat, grab a beer... we're just out here shootin' the shit until Lily gets the sides finished."

Tom laughed. "Okay, thanks." He made a mental note to ask Hunter what 'shootin' the shit' meant. He opened the lid, and retrieved a frosty bottle of Shiner Bock from the cooler. He took a seat in the folding chair, and popped the top off of his beer.

"Is Hunter okay?" Reid finally spoke.

"Uh, yeah, she's fine. She just went to her room for a minute. She said she'd be back quickly."

Reid nodded.

"So, Tom... Reid tells me that you're an attorney up there in Connecticut."

"Oh, yes, I am. I am partners with an older man, together we have a firm there. We deal in corporate law...contracts... that sort of thing."

"You were the one that hired Henry, right?" Reid asked.

Tom sighed. "As a matter of fact, I did. My boss told me he wanted a dirty trial lawyer for our firm... Henry’s great in that position... he’s just a horrible husband."

"How bad was it... what he was doing to her?" Reid asked as he stared at the ground.

Tom did not want to be a part of this conversation. "Um... Reid..."

"No, be honest with me. I want to know."

Tom sighed, before taking another gulp from his bottle. "It was really bad, honestly. The first night that I met her, I was enamored... completely smitten..." Getting off the subject, there, Tom. "Uh, the next morning I went to pick him up for work, since he hadn't bought her a vehicle yet. I found her sleeping in their car... he had kicked her out of the house for embarrassing him at a party..." Tom sighed. " ...and I've seen more bruises, black eyes, and blood on her than I am comfortable with."

Reid's knuckles turned white. "She said that you were with her through it all... that you helped her."

Tom nodded. "I’ve tried."

"Thank you, Tom. I figured after he got her up there, we'd never see her again."

"Why? He didn't let her see her own family?"

"No, I mean... I just knew he'd go too far one night and kill her. I just knew it. I knew that I'd get a call in the middle of the night saying that my little sister was dead. Every night I went to sleep hoping that wasn't the night. How any man can put his hands on someone as sweet and kind as Hunter, I’ll never know..."

Hearing that rattled Tom to the core... hearing this about the woman he loved was far too intense. He already had reasons to hate Henry, but now he wanted to kill him.

"Well, as long as I have breath in my body, she'll never have to see him again. Other than at the divorce hearing, anyway. I wish I could go and face him for her." Reid said.

"Yeah... me too." Tom agreed.

After a moment Mike sighed. "Enough of that. Let's check this meat, boys..."

********************************

A knock on the door startled Hunter as she laid her head down on her vanity. "Come in."

"Hey, I just wanted to check on you... you kinda ran away on us." Haley said as she peeked her head in the door. "Oh, you don't look very good."

"Gee, thanks, Haley." Hunter joked.

"No, I mean, you're pale... even more pale than normal... kinda green, actually..."

"I'm feeling better. I just walked into the house and the smell just kinda hit me... I just got a little nauseous, is all. I'm okay now..."

"Huh, that's strange." Haley leaned against the vanity and put her palm on Hunter's head. "You aren't warm. You aren't pregnant, are you?"

"Oh, goodness, no! No, no, no..."

"Have you missed a pill?"

"Oh, I, uh... I have the implant thing... in my arm... supposed to be good for 5 years... I've only had it for 3. There's no way I could be pregnant."

Haley shrugged. "Okay, well... if you're feeling better, I'll leave you alone. See you in a minute downstairs?"

"Yeah... is Tom okay?"

"Yup, he's outside with the guys. No one’s fighting yet, so that’s a plus!"

"Okay..."

Haley smiled and left the room quietly, leaving Hunter alone to think. Pregnant? Nooooo, there's literally no way. She thought of all the times over the last few days that she had been sick... or had cravings... or snapped at Tom... or cried for no reason... and she couldn't remember when her last period was, for the life of her... those all had to be coincidences. She would push it far from her mind. She definitely didn't need to worry about something that was so unlikely, when she had problems that were real, that needed to be faced soon. She cleared her throat and went into the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. Breathe, Hunter. Breathe.

She made her way downstairs, and went into the kitchen. "Can I help you, mama? I can chop something, or stir something..."

"Why don't you whip the baked beans up really quick, and put them in the oven?" Lily asked.

Hunter nodded, and from where she was working she had a clear view of the guys outside. They were all standing around the smoker, drinking beer, and talking... something she wasn't used to seeing. Normally, Henry'd be drunk by now and causing trouble. She smiled as she took in the sight of her brother and Tom laughing, as she put the beans in the oven... it made her happy, like she hadn't been in a long time.

A few minutes later, Hunter poked her head out of the sliding glass door. "The table's set, guys, all we need is the meat."

An hour later, they were all so stuffed that they could hardly move. Everyone had migrated into the living room, and spread across the two couches, with Mike and Lily in the two recliners. Hunter laid her head in Tom's lap, as they watched tv. He let his long fingers flow through her hair, pausing every few minutes or so to lightly rub her ear, or her neck. He was enjoying this time with her, and even though he was surrounded by her family, he felt at home... after all, he had made Hunter his home.

"Well, I guess I need to get up and do the dishes." Lily said as she pushed her recliner back into the seated position.

"I'll help you, mama." Hunter began to get up, as Tom grabbed her hand.

"I'll help, too."

She smiled and nodded. "Well, come on then."

After a few minutes, Hunter ended up washing the dishes, as Tom dried them and put them away. Lily had taken a chair from the dining room and put it in the kitchen, so she could sit in it and listen to Tom talk about things.

"So, what was your childhood like, Tom? I bet growing up in England was a lot of fun."

"I never really had much of a childhood, to be honest. I was sent to boarding school when I was 8. I came home for holidays, but my parents eventually ended up divorcing... it split our family up a bit. I guess in a way, I should be thankful. I matured at a very young age, and I was afforded an excellent education that very few people get the chance to obtain. I've made a good life for myself..." 

"That's great, Tom. Hunter's daddy left when she was 2, Reid was 5... He just couldn't take the pressure of being a father..."

"Okay, mama, Tom knows about all that." Hunter interrupted as she washed the last dish, before handing it to Tom to dry. She cleared her throat. "So, mama, I was thinking about going back to Tom's hotel for the night."

"Oh... well, I guess that would be okay. As long as you check in with me tomorrow sometime."

"Thanks." Hunter leaned over to kiss her mom on the cheek, and turned to Tom. "Let me run upstairs and grab a few things... I'll be right back."

He nodded, and put the last plate up in the cabinet. When he turned around, Lily wrapped her arms around him. He reciprocated the hug, quite surprised that it happened.

"Tom, I know what you've done for my baby. Thank you. I'll never be able to repay you for getting her away from there..."

"Lily, I love your daughter. Very much. When this divorce is final, I want to make her my wife, when's she's ready. If that's okay with you."

She smiled and reached up to pat his cheek. "It's fine by me, as long as you promise to take care of her. I refuse to pick up my broken daughter again."

"I would never break her, Lily."

"Ready, Tom?" Hunter poked her head into the kitchen.

"Yes, darling, I sure am."