#the two of them adorably conspiring to avoid their shots

[bunniekittiee]

Shattered Ice- Bi-Han x Fem. Reader

This is my first Bi-Han fic (besides headcanons) I promised you all, and I tried to get his characterization correct in the way I wanted it to be. Credits to @magic-schoolbusdropout ‘s post and their ideas! I did not base it solely on their idea but I incorporated it into the fic. I wanted to give it a shot.

It is not exactly proof-read so there may be errors!

CW: a lot of angst, bi-han going crazy, yea this is not the usual fluff stuff guys im sorry :(, also this is extremely long so like beware.

“Where are your brothers, Bi-Han?” she asked so quietly, her voice barely reaching his ears. Like a little mouse squeaking.

“They have forsaken our clan.” He rasped back. “They do not want the Lin Kuei to succeed. They want us to be at the hands of Liu Kang.”

Her heart dropped. Memories of the faces of the two brothers echoed in her head. Never to be seen again. “You have… abandoned them?”

Jaw clenched, Bi-Han’s eyes narrowed at his wife. “Abandoned them? They have abandoned our clan. They made that decision when they did not follow me.”

“Bi-Han, they are your brothers-”

“They believe we should be shackled by Liu Kang’s rule.” He interrupted her. “The Lin Kuei deserve much more than we receive, and the only way to accomplish that is by removing ourselves as Earthrealm’s protectors. Kuai Liang and Tomas have departed from us, they are banned from coming into our land.”

Her eyes watered. “Bi-Han… this is not right. You have forsaken your brothers.”

“Do not talk back to me in that tone.” He said harshly. “You are my wife. Know your place.”

“Abandoned your brothers for complete rule? Your father would be so devastated Bi-Han!” She fought back against him. “The Lin Kuei are supposed to be Earthrealm’s protectors.”

He rolled his eyes. “My father was a foolish old man, he did not know how to truly rule the clan. Sektor has been advising the development of the Cyber Initiative with me. We will flourish.” He was certainly proud of his decision, which made her feel worse.

“I do not know who you are anymore, Bi-Han.” She said, tears falling from her eyes as her wide (e/c) locking with his brown eyes. Eyes that were once soft to look at now held frigidness and irritation.

“I am still your husband.”

“Hardly.” She choked out as she got up from her seat. “You are someone else, a stranger.” She stormed away from him, his eyes still stuck onto her figure. His heart ached. In the worst ways possible. But he could not waste his time on making her understand. He had a lot to do, and he needed to work.

The couple’s home was silent for many months. She avoided him at what chance she could, hardly interacting with Bi-Han when he came into their room. He did not make an effort to talk to her either. Bi-Han felt lonely in their large bed as her body was on the opposite side of him. She stopped cuddling with him like she used to. She stopped giving him her sleepy kisses that warmed his cold heart. It was as if she hated him. It hurt in ways Bi-Han thought it would not hurt, but he could not let his pain show. It was weak, and he was angry at himself for being so bothered.

She struggled sleeping. It was difficult to rest when her husband, an entirely different man, was so cruel. Leaving his brothers behind. The faces she loved like her own brothers, now gone due to Bi-Han’s thirst for something more for the Lin Kuei that costed him his family. How much was it all worth? That, she did not know.

Dearly missing the brothers, she conspired. She loved Bi-Han very much. It was obvious as many commented on her look of infatuation and adoration when looking at him, but she was lonely. And deep inside of her, there was an intense feeling of terror building up as Bi-Han’s personality began to change drastically. He was much more agitated and withdrawn. When their eyes met, he would quickly turn away from her. Sometimes, if he stared at her for too long, his once comforting brown eyes would shift to a blue hue. It ached deeply. She wanted the old Bi-Han to return back to her once more, but she was not so sure if that would ever be possible.

Bi-Han was always busy with Lin Kuei matters that he never discussed with her. Before, he would make time to come back and rest with her, or at least sleep with her during the nights. However, he was slowly stopping that. So she decided that it was the perfect time to try and find Bi-Han’s brothers. It was a matter of slinking past the guards and others that roamed the grounds, but it was something she could manage.

She quickly packed a few things just in case she decided to stay with them for a few days. As much as she did not want to be with a tyrannical clan, she could not leave forever. And she could not leave Bi-Han, for he was her husband. They were tied together for the rest of their lives.

Bi-Han was not in bed by the time she decided to leave, so she carefully descended down the stairs of the palace and avoided the guards. He had taught her a few tricks to not be seen by others and she never thought she would need it, but here she was now. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears as her adrenaline rushed. She was terrified of being found by Bi-Han or even Sektor. Bi-Han had never raised a hand to her, but with his personality changes, she was not too sure anymore.

It was incredibly dark outside, the wind swaying the trees to a slight rustling. This enhanced her paranoia as she snuck in the shadows, hiding from more guards. The Lin Kuei were much more guarded now due to Bi-Han breaking away from Liu Kang. Whether it was due to the fact the Shirai Ryu were beginning to rise up or Bi-Han was trying to increase numbers, the areas were guarded heavily. It made her escape difficult.

After some time of slinking past the darkest parts of the Arctika, she let out a small breath as she quickly padded in the direction of the horses’ stable. She knew that her journey would hardly be accomplished on foot, so having a way of transportation would grant her enough time to get away before Bi-Han realized she was missing. Whether it was the Gods’ way of helping her, the stables were not guarded. Luck must have been on her side tonight.

Quickly getting the gear on her horse, she frantically looked around to make sure no one would walk in on her. She could not be found out now. As she led her horse out of the stable, she looked around once more before lifting herself up onto her horse. She tried her best at being silent as she left, and the stables were on the outskirts of the Arctika. Once she hit the main pathway out, she looked down at the map she had stolen from Bi-Han of where the Shirai Ryu could possibly be at. It was in preparation for her trip. Her anxieties lessened as she increased her distance from the Lin Kuei, but guilt chewed her insides up. Bi-Han was going to be ravenous with revenge and fury.

Exhaustion hounded him like a starving stray dog. He had hardly slept for a while, the dark circles under his eyes darkening as he continued his bad habits. He craved the touch of his wife and her voice. Bi-Han missed her dearly. She had not taken the news of his new ruling well, and Bi-Han suspected that she was beginning to loathe him. But he tried to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Firefly,” he whispered as he creaked their bedroom door open. “I have missed you so.” He entered the room, eyebrows scrunching at the sight of an empty bed. His mind wracked where she could possibly be at during this hour of the night. Jaw clenched, he turned away from the room and began to stomp around their home, asking his soldiers if they had seen her. They had not.

Panic ensued within him, however he did the best he could to compose himself in front of his clan. If they had not seen her, maybe Sektor had. He hunted him down rather quickly.

“No, I have not seen her.” He replied back to the Grandmaster as he studied one of the cybers on the table. He looked up at Bi-Han. “You don’t think she left, do you?”

“I do not know.” Bi-Han snapped. He was extremely worried. His brain was running a million miles per hour thinking about where she could have went.

Sektor ignored his tone and thought over what could possibly be the reason why the Grandmaster’s wife had disappeared.

“Unless… you don’t think the Shirai Ryu could have possibly taken her?” Sektor suggested.

Bi-Han’s blood froze. He felt the room spin as his eyes widened and he thought deeply about Sektor’s suggestion. It made sense. But how did they sneak inside so easily? Bi-Han had it heavily overseen with troops. They were on lock down practically, but he did not put it past them to kidnap his one and only weakness.

His brown eyes began to slightly shift in color, beginning to turn blue as energy surged through him. “We have to infiltrate their base immediately.” He said gruffly. “We cannot let them hurt her.”

She studied the map more as her horse carried her further away from her home. It had been at least eight hours with a few breaks in between for her horse and herself. At a galloping speed, she was able to get across more distance. She was cold, shivering from the wind. It reminded her of Bi-Han’s cold body when he changed his body temperature. Sometimes if she had hot flashes or extreme high temperatures, he would simmer his own in order to give her relief. He would cuddle her close to him as he did so, making sure to not overdo it. Her heart hurt as she thought about their memories together. After his betrayal, he was not the same.

Glancing around at her surroundings, she heard rustling in the trees around her. Her paranoia had risen once more and her horse had heard the noises as well, ears standing on end. She swiveled her head to see if it was an animal or a person. The rustling quickened, and she dug her heels into the side of her companion to run. But she was not so lucky, as they were both caught in a net. Her horse stopped dead in his tracks, squealing angrily as they were both thrown to the ground by the force of the net. Surrounded by unknown soldiers who had wrapped rope around her horse, she screamed. Adrenaline coursed through her body as her fear made her nauseated. Bi-Han was not around to save her, and she had led herself straight into the jaws of death.

As she attempted to get up, she was tackled back down to the ground once more. Her forehead was painfully wounded as she struggled against her captor who was much stronger than she was. Blood blurring her vision, she could not see very well. The soldiers had tied her extremities and picked her off the ground, silently making their way back to where they came from before. She continued to scream and thrash her body around, until another solider roughly tied a gag around her mouth to shut her up. Tears ran down her face and she could not help but sob. Her heart felt like it was going to come out of her throat as she knew she was meeting her demise. Without ever saying good-bye to Bi-Han.

She saw the dirt ground turn into a pathway, but soon after she had seen a glimpse of it, her head was obscured by a burlap sack by the same soldier that gagged her. They must not want prisoners to know the layout of their land. That made sense to her, she had seen the Lin Kuei practice the same method. For a moment, a fleeting thought passed through her brain. Maybe this was the Shirai Ryu clan. That meant she was near Tomas and Kuai Liang.

But then again, she was not so sure. That made the anxiety in her stomach twist. If she was wrong, it meant it would cost her her life. After some time of walking, she assumed she was where she needed to be when she was tossed to the ground like a rag doll. Her body ached tremendously from the cold, as well as the rough state her body was in.

“Unmask her.” A familiar voice rang out, but it was muffled by the burlap sack and her stinging head wound that made her lightheaded and dizzy. The sack was violently torn off of her head as her eyes adjusted to the light that the torches gave off.

Looking up, her vision was blurry as she could barely make out the two figures that sat near her. “By the Gods! Untie her immediately!” said one as he approached her fast. “Now now!”

“Y/N…” said the other who came near her form. “Is it really you?”

Kuai Liang and Tomas engulfed her in a hug as she began to cry. From pain and relief. She found them…

“I have been searching for you both.” she said, her words wavering. “I am so grateful to have found you.”

“We need to take you to the medics, little sister.” Kuai Liang said as Tomas gently picked her up off the ground. “That is a nasty head wound they gave you.”

“My horse…”

“They will take care of him.” Tomas said as Kuai ordered them to free her horse and put him in the stables. That was if they could avoid getting kicked in the face.

Reaching the medics, Tomas set her down on the bed as they began to work on her scrapes and wound. “If we had known it was you, we would have not allowed them to hurt you like that.”

She sighed quietly. “It is okay, Tomas. I was in your territory, a stranger. They were only doing what they were ordered to do.”

“How did you escape the Arctika?” Kuai asked. “I thought Bi-Han would have everything guarded heavily.”

“Well, he does. I was able to sneak past the guards and get to the stables. They do not exactly have soldiers patrolling the stables, and since it is on the outskirts of the Arctika, it is easy to escape.” She explained.

Tomas grabbed your hand gently. “If you have escaped, Bi-Han will not be that far behind you. He will go to the ends of the earth to find you.”

Looking down, she frowned. “I just… missed you both very much. Bi-Han is not the man he once was. He is much more aggressive and distant. He is searching for the Shirai Ryu. I have barely interacted with him since his betrayal, and I cannot bring myself to stay in a place that does not bring me joy.”

“Do not twist my words, I still love Bi-Han very much, but what he is doing is not what your father would have wanted. He has corrupted the Lin Kuei.”

Kuai Liang furrowed his eyebrows. “I heard that he was following through with the Cyber Initiative. That is what Shang Tsung had promised him. I cannot believe that he is doing all of this.”

“Neither can I. I wish he was easier to reason with, but he is very relentless on this matter. He believes you both have betrayed him, not the other way around.” She explained while gripping Tomas’ hand. “He is blinded by his own anger.”

“Bi-Han was never one to master his own anger, that was always an issue he has struggled with.” Kuai Liang replied. “I do not see him having mercy, especially now that you are with us.”

“But do not fret,” Tomas interjected. “We are happy to have you here until you recover. That is, if Bi-Han does not find you until then.” He exchanged a worried look with Kuai Liang who only nodded his head. “He will not take it lightly that we have his wife.”

She understood. She knew how much they were risking letting her stay with them. Bi-Han’s rage was not one to be in the crossfire of. She had hoped he would not find her just yet, she had barely reunited with the brothers and wanted to spend more time with them.

After cleaning her wounds up and bandaging her, the brothers led her out of the infirmary to walk to the temple. They talked about old memories of being together, the adventures they would go on. Tomas had asked how Jia was, which Jia was a little sad since the brothers were exiled. They were a part of her life since she was a kitten, it was not a surprise she carried melancholy since they had left. Many of their conversations were reminiscing as they did not want to talk about the present. It was saddening to know that they would never have the same bond they once did with Bi-Han, he would always crave for bloodshed. He already spilled Kuai Liang’s blood when he gave him that scar on his eye, he would continue his journey to spill more. Bi-Han did not see them as brothers anymore, they were enemies. Kuai Liang and Tomas understood that.

The brothers made sure she was fed and had a comfortable space to sleep. She was exhausted. She quickly fell asleep the minute her head hit the pillow, forgetting the events of her day in the dream state she entered.

However, Kuai Liang and Tomas were not so easily able to do the same as her. They stayed up, their anxieties chewing away at them.

“If Bi-Han finds her here, he will assume we took her.” Kuai Liang said while he brushed his hair. “He is not one for reasoning while he is angry.”

“Believe me,” Tomas replied. “I know he will be wrathful. There will be no way of explaining anything to him. He will ignore it.”

Kuai sighed. “As much as I am happy she is here, it also created a disaster in the long run. I just hope that Bi-Han will not be able to find her, at least for some time.”

“But if he already had a map developed of where we are at, then he will not take long.” said Tomas. “Once he is on a mission, he will never get side tracked.”

“You are right, brother.”

The glaring sun bore through the window near her bed, making her shift her body and scrunch her face up. She was not used to this as the Arctika did not have much sunlight coming through in the mornings. But where the Shirai Ryu were, there were lots of lighting. Eventually, it woke her up.

Blinking slowly, she remembered her journey that she had taken to get here. Her breathing increased when she remembered Bi-Han, and how he was going to eventually find her. It scared her. She did not know what he would do once he found her with his brothers. Maybe he would kill her? Keep her prisoner? Leave her to stay with the Shirai Ryu? The possibilities were endless, and Bi-Han was not exactly predictable like he used to be.

She crawled out of bed and made her way outside to enjoy the sunshine. The Arctika did not have sunshine with this amount of intensity, so she decided to embrace it as much as she could before she would have to leave. She sat down in a spot with direct sunlight, sighing with such peace as she closed her eyes. The sun felt good on her skin as the morning dew created a refreshing feeling.

Hearing the crunching of footsteps, she opened her eyes and saw the brothers approaching her. She smiled at them. “Good morning, brothers.”

They nodded their heads. “Good morning, sister.” They both said as they sat down next to her.

“It is a beautiful morning.” She said with a small smile on her lips. “Much better than the ones at home.”

Kuai Liang chuckled. “Definitely. The sun feels great out here.”

“I can see why Syzoth enjoys it, although he is a reptile, so it makes sense.” Tomas said. “It makes you feel good.”

They sat in a comfortable silence. However, they all had the same thoughts in the back of their mind. It always lead back up to Bi-Han no matter what. The worries of him arriving soon had nagged at Tomas and Kuai Liang. They could not abandon Bi-Han’s wife, as she was like a sister to them, and they knew they had to take care of her. But they knew they had to prepare for war. Bi-Han could arrive at any time, and they knew that.

“We came to greet you, but we must be on our way. Sorry, little sister.” Kuai Liang said as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “We have to prepare for war as a precaution. I hope you understand.”

Smiling sadly, she nodded solemnly. “I understand. I am very sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry, we are glad we found you. We hate to let you go so soon.” Tomas frowned. “We wish you could stay here forever, but your life is with Bi-Han. He…”

“He would not know what to do without you. It is better if you are with him, even if he is corrupt.” Kuai Liang finished Tomas’ thought. “But we will not throw you out, of course.”

Nodding once again, she said her goodbyes to the brothers so they could tend to their duties and prepare for Bi-Han’s arrival. She felt her eyes water, but she blinked her tears away. She could not allow herself to cry, not yet. She had nothing to cry over, until it was time.

Eyes ablaze with rage and distress, Bi-Han lead his army to where he speculated the Shirai Ryu were at. He did take notice of the map missing from his study, he had almost believed that his wife may have taken it, but he did not think so. Why would she scheme against him? His trustworthiness for her was beginning to diminish, but he could not let it go too far. He could be wrong.

After planning with Sektor and Cyrax, they gathered what they had of the cyber Lin Kuei and combined it with their human counterparts. They could overpower the Shirai Ryu. At least, that is what Sektor had promised him. All three of them were riding their horses in front of their army, the only sounds echoing around them being synchronized footsteps and the click-clack of the horses’ hooves.

It was now sometime in the late afternoon to evening, and they had hardly taken any breaks. Cyrax was looking down at the map they had, thankful that Bi-Han had more than one map of the possible location of the Shirai Ryu. As he did this, Sektor was beginning to converse with Bi-Han.

“Grandmaster, I do not want to worry you, but-” he started.

“What is it, Sektor?” Bi-Han snapped as he was led out of his own thoughts.

Sektor raised his head a little higher and bit back his retaliation. “When I went to get our horses from their stables, your wife’s horse was gone.”

Bi-Han glowered. “There is no way of her horse walking out on its own, were any of the stable doors open.”

Sektor shook his head. “Not at all, Grandmaster. In fact, some of the gear was missing as well. I do not want to assume she may have left on her own, but it would explain why her horse was missing.” He carefully chose his words.

Bi-Han tightened his grip on his horse’s reins. “Why would she leave me like that? She has nowhere else to go. Besides the Shirai Ryu.”

“Either way, it is still a positive sign to continue our journey.” Sektor replied.

Sektor’s information did not ease Bi-Han’s heart. He felt like it was going to shatter. Why would she betray him like this? It was bad enough that his own brothers did the same, but she? His own wife, the love of his life? His heart was beginning to harden after everything he had known. Why show her mercy if she was disloyal to him and the Lin Kuei?

“Halt!” Cyrax called out loud. “There is something on the ground.”

Bi-Han rolled his eyes. “Why are we stopping over something that pathetic?”

Cyrax hopped down from his horse as he approached the spot on the ground, studying it carefully. “Grandmaster, it is blood.”

Narrowing his eyes, he let himself down from his horse as he approached him. “Blood you say? Is there a chance it could be hers?”

Sektor had decided to leave his horse as well and study different parts of the area to find more clues.

“I am not too sure, Grandmaster. It could be an animal’s but there is also a chance it could be hers. But this is not near the assumed location on the map.”

Sektor was studying some sharp branches closely. There was something off about them. Almost as if-

“Grandmaster. Cyrax. I have found another clue!” He said as he pointed at the clothing. Bi-Han quickly approached him. “Look at the branches. There is clothing caught on them.”

“That is the colors of the Lin Kuei.” Cyrax said in slight awe. “You have great eyesight, Sektor.” Bi-Han reached forward and grabbed the cloth. He rubbed it between his fingers. It felt just like the clothing she wore. His eyes darkened as he glanced back at the blood and the clothing that was now pointing them into the right direction.

“They hurt her. They are where the cloth will take us, in that direction.” Bi-Han said as he pointed. “We must act fast before they cause more harm again.”

Kuai Liang was meditating, taking a small break from the large amounts of preparing he and Tomas were doing. They had to get their soldiers ready for any threat, as well as their land guarded at every point possible. They had to stay on high alert of the Lin Kuei showing up. Kuai Liang knew it was coming no matter what.

His eyes widened as the hair on his arms stood on end. He had a sense of impending doom, a feeling all too familiar to him. From experience, his senses were hardly ever wrong. Getting up rather fast, he had to warn Tomas. Bi-Han was here and he was ready for warfare.

Bi-Han’s lovely wife was resting due to her head wound causing her to feel dizzy. Tomas and Kuai Liang did not pressure her to leave her bed. They were already busy as it was due to her staying with them. It was only a matter of time before Bi-Han arrived like a bat out of hell. Eyes closed, she drifted off to an in between state of sleep and alertness. That was, until a solider of theirs stormed into her room. “Grandmaster Bi-Han’s wife,” he said. “We need to put you into hiding, they are here.”

Her heart sank. She nodded, getting up from the bed and following the soldier to a spot underneath the floor where should could possibly be safe at. That was if Bi-Han did not find her. He was a very thorough man, there was a good chance he would.

Encased in mostly darkness, she sat on the dirt floor and pulled her knees to her chest. She could hear the footsteps of the Shirai Ryu overhead, and the approaching sounds of their rivals. It was only a matter of time before they were murdering each other. All because she left. She realized how much trouble she had caused for Kuai Liang and Tomas just by arriving at their home. She shouldn’t be hiding underneath the floor, she should be trying to reason with Bi-Han.

“Where is she, Kuai Liang?” Bi-Han spat while placing a hand on the handle of his sword. “Give me back my wife that you took from me!”

“Brother, I did not do such a thing.” Kuai Liang said, eyebrows scrunched. “She came here looking for us. We did not tread on your land.”

Bi-Han did not want to believe them. Why would his own wife betray him like that? “You defile her name, you speak lies, snake. Why have you hurt her? There is blood on the ground.”

Tomas internally cursed and looked sullen. “Bi-Han, it was an accident. They did not know who wandered into our territory.”

Gritting his teeth, Bi-Han’s eyes glimmered with anger as he began to pull his sword out of its sheath. “Incompetent. I do not expect anything less from either of you. Give her back to me, now. Before I rip apart your home.”

Tomas and Kuai exchanged a look before averting their eyes back to Bi-Han. “Only if you stop your mission to kill us. And you will leave her alone.”

Bi-Han signaled his soldiers to attack, not wanting to hear more out of his enemies. Kuai and Tomas knew it was going to come to this, so they wasted no time in lunging at Bi-Han to calm him down. Despite all he had done, they did not want to hurt their brother. But he was starting a war that neither side could not afford.

Curling into a ball, she felt terrified and lonely. She wondered when it would all be over, but then, their faces appeared in her head. Bi-Han had the chance to kill his brothers if he wanted to, all because she made the choice to leave. To find them. It was unfair, and she knew that. As she gained courage, she rummaged around the small space, trying to find anything she could to break out of the confinements. She had to reason with Bi-Han. It was the only way to get him to stop this.

She wrapped her hands around the handle of what she assumed was a broom and began to slam it into the trapdoor. Over and over. Continuously, until the floor began to somewhat break. She used her hands to strike at it as it was weak, and it eventually gave away. Pulling herself up, she squinted her eyes as she adjusted to the lighting. She could hear the yells of the soldiers much more clearer. With adrenaline rushing, she sprinted out one of the doors and whipped her head around. In her attempts to find Kuai Liang and Bi-Han. Back farther into the forest, she saw glimpses of smoke, fire, and ice. They must have taken their fight away from the Shirai Ryu Temple.

Avoiding as much as the bloodshed as possible, as well as the soldiers fighting to the death, she ran in the general direction she had seen the men’s powers. The soldiers were too occupied with one another to see her. Otherwise, the Lin Kuei would have immediately attacked her. The sight of the cybers increased her fear. That is what Bi-Han and Sektor were developing. It was horrifying.

As she got closer to where the brothers and her husband were at, the smell of blood stung her nostrils. Her worries almost came out of her mouth as bile, but she could not let herself be so weak in this moment. She needed to help them.

“Surrender, and I will call off the Lin Kuei.” Bi-Han rasped as he stared down Kuai Liang.

“Now you lie, brother.” Kuai replied as they paced around. “You will never call them off.”

Bi-Han’s eyes narrowed in irritation. “Obey your Grandmaster and heed my orders!”

“You are not my Grandmaster no longer, brother.” said Kuai as his emotions were written on his face. Sadness, betrayal, and grief. “You are not who you once were.”

“And you are not my brother, a mere stranger to me.” Bi-Han lunged forward at Kuai as their swords clashed together. Bi-Han stepped back once again.

“Bi-Han,” said that sweet voice, one that brought him comfort, love, and warmth. “Bi-Han, you need to stop this!”

“Little sister!” Tomas said as he went to her side. “You are not supposed to be here!”

“Get away from her you fool!” Bi-Han yelled at Tomas as he began to walk forward. Kuai pointed his sword out at Bi-Han to stop.

“You will not touch her,” Kuai growled. “You leave her out of this, Bi-Han.”

“I want my wife back, the one that was wrongfully taken from me!”

“Bi-Han, I made the decision to leave.” She blurted. “I left to find them. They did not take me away from you.”

Another blow to his heart. His beloved, his most cherished human being in his life, left him. To find the Shirai Ryu. Sektor was correct in his theory. “You betrayed me!”

“You betrayed them first, Bi-Han.” She argued back. “You made that mistake.”

“You have forsaken all the Lin Kuei principles!” His voice increased in loudness and raspiness. “What have you done to me? You were supposed to rule beside me!”

“I missed them, Bi-Han! You cannot blame me for my sadness, you brought it upon me and I had no other option but to accept it. You are not the same man you once were, and it shows. I wanted to see them again, Bi-Han.”

Jaw clenched, his eyes moved from his wife, to Kuai, to Tomas, and back to her again. “All three of you have abandoned the Lin Kuei. For your own selfish purposes. You all could have ruled beside me and witnessed us flourishing. Instead, you have betrayed me.” His eyes began to shift in color, his arms beginning to turn icy and the nature around them as well. His feet created ice underneath them.

Kuai Liang took a step back as Bi-Han’s rage was focused on him, his now blue eyes staring into his soul. Raising his hands, Bi-Han shot ice out of his hands, enough to give Kuai injuries and more. But, it did not hit Kuai Liang.

Body thudding the ground, her face paled quickly as the ice began to seep into her body and penetrate her blood. Bi-Han’s eyes slowly moved down to her small form laying on the ground. It did not register in him that he hurt his own wife. The woman he promised to never hurt and always protect. Yet here she was, lying on the ground as her limbs encapsulated themselves in ice.

“Bi-Han…”

“What have you done?” Tomas said as he kneeled down next to her. “Kuai, we need your fire now.”

“Unhand her now!” Bi-Han said as he ripped her body away from Tomas. “You… will not touch her again.”

“Bi-Han, she needs immediate attention! She is going to die.” Kuai said as he stepped towards Bi-Han.

His eyes began to glow which did not settle right with Tomas and Kuai. They had never seen him do this before. “I do not need your help. Leave it to me, now.”

“Brother-”

“Silence!” He screamed, breathing unevenly and placing his hands gently on her pale face.

"Bi-Han, she will die if she does not-"

Their vision was immediately obscured by white, ears ringing as the whistling of the winds began to pick up. They were surrounded by snow and snowflakes. They squinted their eyes at attempts to find Bi-Han and his wife, but they could not see very much.

"Kuai Liang!" Tomas yelled over the whistling wind. "I think he created a blizzard!"

"I did not know he was capable of doing so!" he replied as he grabbed onto Tomas. "He will be easily angered in this form, I do not see him reasoning with us."

"We need to help her! If she does not get the help she needs, she will die!" Tomas yelled again. The look of defeat crossed their faces. They were not going to have much power to reason with Bi-Han to accept their help.

Bi-Han felt his word shatter as he stared at her limp form. Her heart beat was still there but it was rather faint. Her lips were beginning to turn blue from being surrounded by cold and ice. Bi-Han's eyes were still glowing as the winds increased more, as well as the snow fall. Picking them both off the ground, Bi-Han began to walk in the general direction he assumed where the Shirai Ryu were at. He had to leave now. They had to make it back to the Arctika before she gave up on them. He could not rely on the Shirai Ryu to help, as they would only use it as leverage. And Bi-Han knew that he could not bite his pride back and let them help her.

The blizzard Bi-Han created followed the Lin Kuei all the way back home to the Arctika. They had difficulty navigating back because of how heavy the snowfall and winds were. It only seemed to get worse as they approached their home. Bi-Han attempted to keep his wife warm with many blankets as possible as Sektor kept track of her heart rate, but her condition did not improve much. Bi-Han felt hopeless, his moods taking a turn for the worst. He was distraught as he felt many emotions he did not think he could feel. He was hurt. His heart hurt so much. How could she do this to him? How much did she tell Kuai and Tomas? He was not sure, and he almost did not want to ask. He felt like he could not trust the only person who he loved so much, for she had taken his trust and ran with it.

But Bi-Han loved her. He loved her so much and he knew he could not stop loving her no matter what. Could he stop trusting her? Yes, yes he could, but stop loving her? That was impossible as much as he wished he did not turn soft. For many hours of their trip, Bi-Han continued to monitor her closely as they were far from their home. Any moment Sektor's facial expression somewhat changed when he listened to her heart rate was another stab into his heart.

After many grueling hours, the Lin Kuei and their Grandmaster made it home. The blizzard was at its peak, but the soldiers hurried inside the confinements of their home. Sektor and Cyrax instantly began to prepare the infirmary for the Grandmaster's wife. Bi-Han was relieved to be home, but his anxiety was not at ease. It made him nauseated. He felt out of control, it was not normal for Bi-Han.

He waited impatiently, pacing and rubbing his face constantly as Cyrax and Sektor began to work on her hypothermia. No matter how much warmth they used, she did not improve. They knew it would take time, but telling the Grandmaster that was as if they were telling him she was going to die. Cyrax and Sektor exchanged small, concerned glances as they continued their work. Bi-Han was not acting normal, in fact, it seemed as if his defenses were down.

"Grandmaster, we can give you a moment alone if you want." Cyrax said to him, noticing how pained he looked. Bi-Han did not reply as he got up which signaled to them to leave. Closing the door on the way out, Bi-Han sat next to his wife, gently cradling her freezing hand between his own. If anyone had seen Bi-Han, it would look as if he was in mourning. His dark circles were extremely dark, his eyes bloodshot and containing no glimmer of hope. His lips were pulled into a tight line, whether it was to prevent himself from showing any other emotions or another reason, it was unknown.

"Firefly," he said softly. "Never underestimate how much I love you. You have to be strong, you are Lin Kuei. Lin Kuei fight their battles well, no matter if it is in physical battle or in health. Do not give up." He did not know if she could hear him, but a small part of him wished she did. His eyes scanned her face while his grip began to slowly increase. She was alive, a fact that put his certain worries at ease, but she was lying on her death bed. That he put her on. It was his fault, he had lost control and was not disciplined enough to master his own powers apparently. That was evident to Bi-Han.

Lowering his head, he continued to hold her hand as he closed his eyes. All the fighting and long nights were beginning to hit him all at once. He could not help but feel himself drift off to sleep. It was not peaceful, that was something he could not argue against.

Drowsily opening her eyes, her teeth chattered immensely at the freezing cold that pricked at her body. She was covered in multiple blankets and had some sort of heaters around her, but it was not able to fight against the cold that made her body convulse. She looked over and her mouth opened agape. Bi-Han was sitting next to her with his eyes closed, holding her hand in his large one. She felt her fear consume her, as she began to move away from Bi-Han’s figure. She could hardly move her limbs, it was as if they were frozen.

Bi-Han heard her struggles and awoke fast. He got up on his feet, now awake and registering his own wife moving away from him. He placed a hand onto her. “Firefly-”

“Get away from me!” She croaked. Bi-Han retreated his hand, as if he had touched a red, hot knife. “Stay away from me, Bi-Han.”

“You should know I never meant to hurt you.” He replied solemnly. “It was meant for Kuai Liang.”

She felt herself tear up. “Hurting me or your brothers will not help your cause. Get away from me, Bi-Han.” She tried to say this sternly but she could not help the few cracks in her voice. “You frighten me.”

It anguished him to hear her sharp words. The pit of his stomach fizzled with nausea and bile, his chest felt that broken, horrifyingly warm feeling as his vision blurred and his ears began to ring. His breathing increased. “My beloved, you do not understand.”

“Understand what? That you are a monster?”

He gritted his teeth. “It was you that left me. Had you not left me, this would have never happened.”

“Well, it happened, didn’t it? All for what? So you could get the upper hand against the Shirai Ryu?” She spat back, bringing her knees to her chest as she cuddled against the blankets. “You were going to hurt your brothers.”

“They are not my brothers no more. You of all people should know that.” His irritation was beginning to increase. “You have betrayed me. I cannot trust you.”

“I can’t trust you either. Now I am going to be fearful if you will hurt me again or cover me in ice.” She replied with venom dripping off her words. “You are a cruel man, Bi-Han. Leave me alone. I cannot bear to be around you.”

With her last words, Bi-Han stormed out of the room. He did not spare her a passing glance. She let herself cry, sobs wracking her body as she pulled the blankets closer to her and tried to warm herself up. But she could not. She craved Bi-Han’s warmth and touch, but she could not be held by him. He was corrupted.

Sektor and Cyrax recommended lots of bed rest, warm foods, and extra warmth to help her condition. She was eventually moved from the infirmary to the comfort of her and Bi-Han’s bedroom. Servants gave her what she needed, and they gave her warm baths in order to ease the aching cold. But it was hardly improving much. It was as if Bi-Han had given her a deadly frost bite.

Ever since their last argument, Bi-Han had avoided her like she was an illness. She had not seen him since. But little did she know, Bi-Han did see her. He was check in on her when she was asleep to see if she was still breathing. She was just as beautiful as the day he married her. He wanted to crawl into bed with her and hold her close to him. Give her warmth. But he had to listen to her orders to stay away. It was for her own good. He could not bear to hurt her again like he did. She was even lucky to still be alive.

He occupied himself with work and overworked himself in large amounts. He had to oversee the production of the Cyber Initiative as he had taken some to battle the Shirai Ryu. They found out their weaknesses and made the cybers stronger. Soon, they would be unstoppable.

Yet his achievements did not make him feel any better. He missed his wife dearly. He wanted to hear from her how proud she was of him, and how the Lin Kuei would never have to be servants again. Instead, he felt like a monster living within human flesh. The blizzards hardly faltered since that day she had gotten hurt. The weather conditions were horrible on the Arctika due to this. Bi-Han did not know he was capable of such a powerful weapon, but he had concluded that he could only do so when he was agonized.

In dire need of seeing his wife once again, Bi-Han had risen from his chair and decided to take a stroll and find her in their room. That was where she mainly stayed at due to medical orders. Cyrax made sure she did not disobey these orders, as she had already broken Bi-Han’s trust.

His feet carried him to their room while he was deep in thought. It felt as if he had teleported his way to their sanctuary. His hand turning the door knob quietly, he peered inside and was taken aback. She was not asleep like usual, she was awake. Her head swiveled to him, their eyes locking together as they stared at one another. Bi-Han entered the room and she began to flinch away from him. She moved her body further away, and it tugged at Bi-Han’s heartstrings. She was afraid.

“What do you want?” She asked him, still looking at him.

“I came to see you.” He breathed quietly. “I always do when you are asleep.”

She felt her heart beat faster at his words. Despite how much they were hurting, he still came to see her. It warmed her heart, but she could not bring herself to forgive him just yet.

“I know I hurt you.” He said with his arms crossed. “I am truly sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

“It is hard to believe you. With your behavior changes and what you have done.” She frowned at him and felt herself begin to tear up.

Bi-Han started to approach her but she scooted back quickly. “Please stay away, Bi-Han.”

He stopped where he stood and put his arms behind his back. “I am sorry, my beloved. I never wanted this to happen.”

As much as she craved his touch, she could not trust him. Just as he could not trust her. “We both need time, Bi-Han. It is too soon.”

He nodded his head. “Understood. We both do.”

Many months had passed since her accident. Bi-Han tried to keep his distance away from her, but here and there she warmed up to his advances. They had not made love for almost a year, although Bi-Han was not a fiend for such an act, he still wished they could divulge in it with her. He missed being so close to her and her body. But he knew she needed time to trust him, just as he needed time to trust her once again.

“Bi-Han,” she spoke softly.

He raised his head up. “Yes, my firefly?”

She stepped closer to him. “Please hold me, Bi-Han.”

This was a huge step for them, but Bi-Han did not want this opportunity to slip from his hands. He gently wrapped his arms around her waist as he brought her closer to him. He felt her arms wrap around his body. He breathed in her scent deeply. She smelled wonderful. It was comforting to Bi-Han.

He wondered if their relationship would recover fully from what had happened. It felt that these wounds were partially healed, but Bi-Han did not want them to re-open. His brown eyes started to tear up as he held her close to him, but he blinked them away. He wanted to stay like this forever.

“I love you, Bi-Han.” She said as she closed her eyes.

“I love you much more, my sweet firefly.”

[ridiasfangirlings]

Fushimi and Yata both have a fear of needles and getting shots and use each other as excuses to avoid them until Munakata and Kusinagi trick them into getting their vaccines.

Imagine this being something the two of them have developed to perfection from their time as adorable middle schoolers who didn’t want to get any shots, how to avoid getting injections by having convenient appointments with each other. In middle school it didn’t work as well because Yata’s mom knew when to put her foot down and make Yata go to the doctor no matter what plans he had with Fushimi (heck maybe she made Fushimi get his shots too, since his parents probably wouldn’t make him go to the doctor even if he had to) but it’s a little easier to get away with when they join Homra. Of course then Fushimi betrays Yata and ruins everything and then they have to get their shots for a while because of course Munakata makes sure that Fushimi-kun is properly vaccinated in all ways.

Then ROK happens and Yata and Fushimi make up and suddenly they fall right back into old habits. Like maybe when Fushimi’s in the hospital after being injured in jungle the doctors want to give him some kind of shot, Yata happens to be visiting when the nurse comes in and he can see the way Fushimi stiffens at the sight of the needles. Yata immediately asks if it can wait until their visit is over, talking about how it’s been so long since they talked and needles make Fushimi sleepy so just like one more hour okay that’s all. The nurse agrees and leaves, Yata looks at Fushimi with a grin and he’s like ‘you can take a knife to the thigh but you’re still afraid of needles, huh?’ Fushimi clicks his tongue and denies it, Yata’s like okay I’ll have the nurse come back in then and Fushimi mutters that he saw Yata blanch too. Yata tries to deny it but then he just shakes his head and laughs like okay yeah I still am, it hasn’t changed. Fushimi looks at him and Yata smiles back and suddenly Fushimi finds himself smiling too, feeling this unexpected warmth in his chest as he’s like well maybe I dislike needles a little that’s all.

So on the one hand it’s kinda sweet that the two of them have found this way of bonding and rekindling old friendships but on the bad side they need their shots and keep finding ways to get out of it. Munakata probably catches on first and maybe he decides to stop by the bar one day for a drink and mentions that Fushimi-kun and Yata-kun have certainly been spending a lot of time together recently. Kusanagi has to admit that it does seem like old times and maybe mentions to Yata even missed a doctor’s appointment because he was with Fushimi, Munakata’s all how interesting Fushimi-kun did the same. I imagine them like low key conspiring on this and maybe what happens is Yata shows up at Scepter 4 looking for Fushimi only to find that somehow Fushimi’s already left for Bar Homra but Munakata just so happens to be there with a doctor and a particular shot that he’s been told Yata needs. Meanwhile Fushimi walks into Bar Homra to find Kusanagi all smoothly suggesting he sit down because it seems he’s due for a shot and it was requested that Kusanagi assist in this particular matter.

[theweasleysredhair]

When Sparks Fly [F.W.]

Character: Fred Weasley

Word Count: 1891

Requested?: Yes/No

Summary: “You’re scared of fireworks?” “Scared is an understatement.” In which Fred plans a birthday surprise for his girlfriend without the crucial knowledge that she is terrified of fireworks.

Disclaimer: Gif isn't mine, credit to whoever made it

A/n: I bloody loved this request

also to the requester: I hope I got this right bc I actually adore fireworks so I had to get myself into the mind-frame of being scared of them to write this so fingers crossed I did an okay job. enjoy my love!

~*~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK! REBLOGS ARE ABSOLUTELY FINE! <3

+ + + + +

“What are you talking about now?” Ron asked the twins as they were chatting about something loudly.

“It’s my Y/n‘s birthday next week,” Fred announced. “And we’ve got something spectacular planned,” George grinned, folding his arms over his chest.

You smiled at them and shook your head with a laugh, “I’m kinda worried what the two of you are working on to be honest. You’ve both been awfully mysterious about it all.”

“Oh don’t you worry about a thing, love! Things are gonna take off,” Fred replied with a smirk, “Gonna have a cracking-”

“-Absolutely sparkling-“ George added.

“Time,” they finished the sentence simultaneously.

You smiled at them, hearing a few chuckles from the others as they wandered away, heads bowed together as they conspired about something or other.

“Shit,” you said as soon as they were out of ear shot.

“What’s wrong?” Ron asked as he grabbed a bar of Honeydukes chocolate he’d left on a nearby table.

You sighed, “Their plan involves fireworks.” “Don’t all their plans involve fireworks?” Hermione asked with a small smile.

“Well yes but... this plan is for me. And from the hints they’ve been dropping, fireworks are a big part of the plan,” you chewed on your lip in thought and nervously clasped and unclasped your hands together.

Harry cleaned his glasses with the bottom of his jumper before returning them to his face, “Is that such a bad thing?”

“Well... usually no. But in this case... I thought I’d be able to go a bit longer without saying anything but... I don’t like fireworks. And by ‘don’t like’ I mean I am curling-into-a-ball-and-freaking-out petrified of them,” you admitted, looking down at your hands and sighing again.

“You’re scared of fireworks?”

“Scared is an understatement. Some people are scared of spiders - Ron - some of snakes, of clowns, of werewolves. My thing is fireworks.”

“But your boyfriend is Fred Weasley,” Ron said incredulously through a mouthful of chocolate.

“Oh yeah, cheers for that, Ron, I had almost forgotten,” you replied sarcastically.

Ron smiled before shaking his head, “No, I know, I just mean... well, how have you gone this long without telling him?”

You shifted in your seat, and avoided looking at any of them, “I just... haven’t. He loves them, doesn’t he? I can’t just tell him to stop using them just for my benefit.”

And that was the truth, really. You would never ask him to stop something he loved, and him and George used fireworks a lot in their pranks and such. It wouldn’t be fair to turn around and ask him to stop.

“Well... how badly are you afraid of them?” Hermione asked, tapping her chin in thought.

“I am more afraid of fireworks than Snape is of shampoo,” you joked, “No but seriously, I’ve had quite a few panic attacks over them - bad ones. I just... I can’t help it. I wish I liked them but I’m just terrified. And now Fred is planning something for my birthday and it’s very obvious that it involves fireworks. I don’t have the heart to tell him but... my heart’s thumping just from thinking about them.”

Hermione reached over to squeeze your hand reassuringly, “I’d speak to him beforehand, I’m sure he’d hate it more to do something that scares you.”

You smiled thankfully at her, “Yeah I’ll um... I’ll try and speak to him.”

***

Your birthday arrived much quicker than you’d hoped, and you’d woken up with an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. You hadn’t gotten the heart or courage to confront Fred about his plans for your birthday - he seemed much too excited any time you saw him - and by any means you didn’t want him to feel as though he had to change everything he’d been working on. You appreciated the effort and adored the lengths he went to to show you how much he cared and didn’t ever want him to know you weren’t as excited as him for what was to happen.

Your day went by quite normally, your friends and other students passing by to wish you a happy birthday. The only oddity was you hadn’t seen the twins all day, and it was nearing evening. The thought put you on edge, as you assumed they were working on whatever it was they’d been planning. Despite this, you couldn’t help but miss them - particularly your boyfriend - and hoped they’d make an appearance soon.

You’d just finished your evening meal when your eyes flickered to the ginger boy entering the Great Hall, a carbon copy of your doting boyfriend however completely different in your eyes.

“Happy Birthday, Y/n!” George grinned as he sat beside you on the bench and gave you a side hug, “Sorry we haven’t seen you all day, must’ve been rubbish without us, eh?” You smiled back, “Thank you Georgie! Yes I suppose it has - potions was definitely more boring than usual. You um... haven’t seen your dear twin at all, have you?”

“Ah, you wouldn’t happen to be referring to Freddie boy there, would you? I have indeed seen him and the main reason I am here is to escort you to him,” George stood you and held his hand out. You shook your head fondly and took it, allowing him to pull you up and out of the hall.

He led you down the main hallway and towards the doors of the castle, then out onto the Hogwarts grounds.

“Where are we going?” You asked as you followed the younger twin across the grass.

“You’ll see! You’re gonna love this, Y/n! Fred has been planning this for ages - with my help, of course,” George boasted as he shot a grin over his shoulder at you.

You faked a smile, hoping it was believable enough to look like excitement as you tried to hide that your heart was trying to escape your chest and you could hear blood rushing in your ears.

“George..?” You began.

“Yeah?”

Taking a deep breath, you continued on as you glanced down at your feet, “It’s probably much too late to say anything now but I really don’t like-“

“Happy birthday, darlin’!” A familiar voice interrupted you, halting your sentence in the middle. Your eyes flickered up to rest on the welcome sight of your boyfriend and you couldn’t help but smile when you saw his messy ginger hair and cheeky grin.

He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into a warm hug, one you accepted instantly and happily as you hadn’t seen him all day.

George made himself sparse, leaving you alone with your boyfriend who pressed his lips to yours in a sweet kiss, making up for the fact he’d been gone all day.

As you pulled away, he immediately moved back in to kiss you again, mumbling how much he’d missed you (even though it had only been a day), before finally placing a last chaste kiss to your swollen lips. He then grabbed your hand and pulled you towards the Forbidden Forest, where you noticed lights twinkling in a nearby clearing.

He led you over, his fingers locked around yours as he bit his lip and looked at you, “Surprise, love!”

Your eyes locked on the scene, a blanket laid out with your favourite foods on top, bags of Honeydukes items sitting beside it and a pile of presents - wrapped messily in brown paper and tied with wonky bows - scattered across the grass next to the blanket. Small, glittering lights hung from the tree branches around the clearing, casting a light glow and illuminating both the food and the dozens of pillows that you noticed were also piled around.

“Thought we could spend some time together without anyone interrupting us or anything. Also got some new things we’ve been working on that I want to show you before we show anyone else,” Fred explained, nodding over to a stack of what you assumed were Wizard Wheezes products.

“Oh Merlin... this is beautiful... it’s amazing,” you murmured.

And it was. It was so lovely and thoughtful. You adored it.

Yet, as you were staring at the scene, in awe at how beautiful the fairy lights were, you couldn’t help the voice in the back of your mind reminding you about the fireworks, not knowing when they were going to go off but sure it would be soon.

Suddenly, you heard Fred chuckling beside you and you frowned as you looked over at him. “What’s so funny?” You asked nervously.

“There are no fireworks, love,” he said simply, shoving his hands into his pockets, the hint of a smile resting on his lips.

Your jaw dropped almost comically, “What? What do you- How did you- How could you possibly know I was thinking about them?”

“You keep looking around as if you’re waiting for something. Just letting you know there are no fireworks so you can relax, babe. I know you’re terrified of them so they were never part of the plan. You really think I don’t know you well enough to know that?” He mocked with a playful grin.

Your mouth opened and closed as you stuttered out, “I-I never told you-“

“Didn’t have to, I saw your reaction to the small sparklers me and Georgie made to throw around and realised then. I notice everything about you, love,” he said sincerely.

You turned to him with shock on your features, jabbing him lightly in the chest as you scolded him, “Then why in the name of Merlin’s saggy left ballsack would you make me believe your plan relied on fireworks?!”

“Just like to mess with you, love,” he gave you a cheeky grin, and you wanted to be mad but looking at him, you couldn’t bring yourself to be. Still, you tried to be as you gave him a fake glare, “Fred! I’ve been working myself up over this for days! You’re a right prat!”

However, you couldn’t help the relieved giggle that left your lips as you rested your forehead against his chest and sighed contently now you were back at ease.

“I’m your prat though.”

“Hmm, I suppose so,” you mumbled into his jumper as his hands rested on your waist, him leaning his chin on the top of your head. You stayed stood up, in his arms, for a while before you decided to speak again, “Doesn’t it bother you that you’ll probably never be able to use fireworks in my vicinity?”

Fred pulled away for a moment to look down at you, his features softening as he took in the sight of your nervous demeanour, “Honestly? I’d give up fireworks forever if it meant you’d stick around.”

You smiled wide, blushing as you hid your face again in his chest, “Don’t get too sappy on me, Weasley.”

“Me? Sappy? Never.”

“Hmm..” You hummed, unconvinced. “Just want you to know I love you more than anything, and that includes fireworks,” he said earnestly, the corner of his mouth flicking up into a small smile.

“Stop being so cute,” you grumbled.

“No can do, love, I’m the cutest!” He announced, laughing as you pulled him down by his collar. You smiled and shook your head just as your lips grazed his,

“Well I guess I can’t argue with that.”

[sl-walker]

Preview

It was their first day off from their relentless training with Drop, but Tally mostly just used the time to sleep and read and try not to crawl out of his own skin.

He’d spent the past few days trying to figure out what Kix had been talking about in the mess.  Since then, their schedules hadn’t lined up enough to talk in person; they sent notes to one another’s datapads like they had been for months and months, but that wasn’t where either of them were comfortable discussing something sensitive.

Despite spending three days on it, he was no closer to an answer, either.

Now, he let Kix onto the Nest and was immediately charmed by the picture his little brother made there.

“You’ve never been incognito in your life, have you?” Tally asked, grinning and tilting his head at Kix, standing there in a pair of dress uniform trousers and a plain white t-shirt, looking like a lost duckling of a medic.  Sheepish.  And frippin’ adorable.

Kix snorted back, but he crossed his arms in a way that tugged Tally’s heart. “Still infantry, remember?  I’ve never had to dress incognito before.”

Tally smiled more gently, shook his head and slung his arm around Kix’s shoulders, walking him deeper into the ship.  Kix had never been aboard her, and given the way he was looking around, he probably had no idea how to feel about how nice the ship was, interior-wise.  “C’mon, I’ll have something good for you to wear.  I’m shocked you even got liberty; don’t you report to Sellers?”

“Not since that whole thing in the medbay.  General Skywalker gave me the pass.  Sellers is mustering out early, anyway; Generals Kenobi and Skywalker pulled some strings after you guys threw your cards on the table and in exchange for Sellers keeping his head down and his mouth shut, at least as much as possible, he gets to leave early.”

“Frippin’ figures,” Tally muttered; natborn assholes like that tended to fail upwards.  Getting to even leave the GAR was a privilege reserved for them.  Sellers getting to blow off his conscription early and go back to his private practice was downright infuriating; if Tally had more mental space to give to it, he’d probably grab a pillow to scream into.

He didn’t blame Kenobi or Skywalker for it, because there were only so many ways to buy off a guy like Sellers, but the fact that it had all happened the way it had pissed him off to seeing red.

“Hopefully our next CMO--” Kix paused and then straightened up automatically, but there was a bit of a smile on his face even as he did. “Hey, L-T.”

Maul had just been coming out of the commons, carrying a bowl of some kind of food that Husker and Castle had conspired to make.  There wasn’t a whole lot in said bowl, but Tally was frankly happy that Maul was even making the effort to eat without having food literally shoved into his hands; he had been a little better mentally the past few days, enough that he was more actively engaging with them again, though Tally could also see how much energy just living was requiring of him, too.

Kix had been right; Maul had borrowed and burned reserves he hadn’t had on the Resolute, blowing past every medical stop signal there was to get Rabbit and Raze.  Even stabilized now, he wasn’t well; his metabolism was shot, he still had slow-healing internal damage -- what wasn’t permanent -- and the fact that he was able to walk around looking even mostly-functional was down more to his willpower or to prior psychological conditioning (or both), but not good health.

But-- he was still there.  And he was trying.  And whatever else, Tally was really proud of Maul for that.

Now, Maul looked between the two medics, and even though he didn’t smile, something softer was written on his face anyway. “Hello, Kix.  Tally had said you were going to be by; that you’re-- going out?”

“Except apparently I’m not dressed for it,” Kix said back, rolling his eyes in such an exaggerated manner that Tally just had to snort at it.  “Your arm looks a lot better than last time I saw it.”

Maul glanced down at his healed right arm before quirking his brows in a shrug; there was a little waver in his markings around his elbow, where the burns had been well into muscle, that hadn’t been there before; otherwise, no trace of them remained thanks to the very swift and intensive bacta treatment.

(Flesh always was easier to repair than what was deeper anyway.)

Then, apparently realizing that being dismissive to one of the medics who helped deal with said arm was rude, Maul said, politely, “Thank you for helping Tally.”

Kix blinked, but then he smiled a little. “You’re welcome, but the real hot shot was this guy,” he said, elbowing Tally lightly in the ribs. “I’ve learned a lot from him.”

Tally actually felt his face go warm, and that wasn’t helped when Maul was saying, “I’m not surprised in the--” before his comm went off and he cut himself off.  His brow furrowed as he pulled his communicator out of his pants pocket and something on it must have hit him really wrong, because his face swiftly went blank.

“What is it?” Tally asked, worried.

“Something I was hoping to avoid, but that I expected to happen sooner regardless,” Maul answered, slipping the comm back in his pocket.  He gave them both a nod, then moved to go and take his bowl and himself back to the back of the ship, presumably to go eat outside.

Tally didn’t like that and let go of Kix to follow.  “Lieu--”

“Not now,” Maul said, without turning around, and with just enough force to make it clear that he wasn’t going to discuss whatever it was. “I’ll tell you later.”

Given how much work had been put into teaching the zabrak how to even have boundaries, Tally didn’t push on them; still, he knew he probably looked at least a little anxious when Kix gave his arm a tug and said, “Whatever it is, it can wait until then.”

“Yeah.”  Tally swallowed, but then he turned back and got his arm around his little brother again and headed for the bunk room.

[magnus-the-maqnificent]

Lost Book of the White Countdown Event - Homeliness

Pretty, Prettier, Prettiest

(Read on Ao3)

Clary let out a little yelp as Max tugged at her hair for the umpteenth time that evening.

The six of them, Clary and Jace, Alec and Magnus, Isabelle and Simon, were sitting in a haphazard circle around the living room, with music playing from a set of stereo speakers nearby and dozens of shacks Clary was sitting on the floor with Max in her lap, who was playing around with her hair.

“Looks like he really likes your hair,” Magnus commented, lying on the ground with his legs propped up on the couch nearby and his head in Alec’s lap. Like Clary, he was sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, leaning back against the couch.

“I guess he does,” Clary said, watching as Max grabbed fistfuls of her hair, looking at it with wide eyes. Jace chuckled.

He was sitting on the floor next to Clary, palms resting on the floor behind him and legs stretched out in front. Jace leaned into Clary, whispering something inner ear, and she blushed. Magnus raised an eyebrow but made no comment. 

“Okay, two minutes more and then its my turn,” Isabelle said, bouncing in her seat. She and Simon had both taken over the loveseat, Isabelle’s legs resting on top of Simon’s. 

“How come you two are allowed to sit up there?” Jace asked, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, we’re all on the floor. You should be on the floor too.”

Isabelle stuck out her tongue at Jace. “No one asked you to sit on the floor, Jace.”

Jace opened his mouth to add another retort, but then Simon spoke up. 

“Leave my girlfriend alone,” he said in a cool, nonchalant manner, although Magnus could sense the pride laid behind the word girlfriend. Simon was still adjusting to the Shadow World, but he seemed to take it with an easy grace. Probably because he was way into all those fictional mundane fantasy stuff. 

Jace rolled his eyes. “Friendly reminder, champ - she was my sister before she was your girlfriend.”

“Oh, hush, both of you,” Isabelle cut in, shooting both Jace and Simon a withering look. Then her face brightened instantly, and he held her arms out to Clary. “Okay, come on, my turn now.”

Clary shot Max a rueful smile and disentangled her hair from his fingers. Max didn’t protest at all when Clary passed him to Isabelle. Instead, he squealed and received Isabelle’s embrace with utmost joy. Max loved all of his aunts and uncles a lot.

Magnus let a small smile make its way onto his face when Alec’s fingers brushed through Magnus’s hair, combing through the gelled locks. Alec was smiling too, shaking his head at his siblings and their significant others’ antics. Presently, Jace and Simon were engaged in heated banter, and Clary was looking between them with a look that suggested she’d rather be anywhere else. Magnus didn’t blame her - it was her parabatai and her lover caught in argument, after all.

“Well in that case,” Simon was saying, “Clary was my best friend longer than she was your girlfriend.”

“Ah, but she’s my girlfriend now,” Jace said with a grin. Simon threw his hands up, his face red with exasperation.

“Enough, you two,” Alec spoke up at last. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“In my defence, he’s being ridiculous,” Jace said, looking at Simon. “He’s simply jealous that I’m more handsome than him.”

“First of all, I’m not jealous,” Simon shot back. “Besides, it’s not like you’re the most handsome person in this room. Alec is way more handsome than you.”

“What?!” Alec exclaimed, his eyes widening. Magnus smiled up at him, and turned to Simon.

“While I don’t agree with Smedley on a lot of things, I have to say that he’s absolutely correct on this one,” Magnus said. Simon deflated at the incorrect name, but didn’t say anything.

“Well, I think you’re the most handsome person in this room,” Alec said, smiling down at him, and Magnus preened. “But I don’t think I’m more handsome than Jace.”

Isabelle, Magnus noticed, was pointedly avoiding the whole discussion and playing with Max instead. So was Clary, but she seemed more disinclined to take sides.

Jace raised both of his eyebrows, his lips twitching up into an incredulous smile. “You can’t actually be serious about this.”

“Let’s take a vote, then,” Magnus suggested with a grin. “All those who think Alec is better looking than Jace, raise your hands.”

“Leave me out of this,” Isabelle said, casting a very serious look over all of them and then immediately turning back to Max with a bright smile on her face.

Magnus raised his hand, as did Simon and-

“Clary?!” Jace exclaimed when he saw that his girlfriend’s hand was up in the air, a faintly embarrassed expression on her face. “Et tu?!”

“Sorry,” she said with a sheepish smile. “I love you, Jace. But Alec is more handsome.” Seeing the faux crestfallen expression on his face, she added, “By like 2 percent.”

“Okay,” Alec said, looking surprised at the raised hands in the air. Which was silly because Magnus had told him hundreds, no strike that, millions of times just how handsome and beautiful and utterly perfect he was. Though, nowadays, he suspected Alec’s reactions to such compliments were more out of humility than low self-esteem.

“This is not fair!” Jace exclaimed dramatically, putting a hand over his heart. “You’re conspiring against me!”

“No we’re not.” Simon grinned at him. “Alec is just more handsome than you. Deal with it.”

“I really wish you didn’t bring me into this,” Alec mumbled. Magnus chuckled and patted his cheek.

“Okay, time for round two,” Jace said, sitting up straight. “People who think I’m the more handsome one, raise your hands.”

Jace was the first to raise their hand. No one followed. Alec did raise his hand, but Magnus had pulled it down just as soon as it went up.

Jace’s eyes flicked between all of them and their lowered hands, and then fell back with a wail that sounded like a dying cat. Clary pressed her lips into a thin line, trying to suppress a smile, and patted Jace’s gold locks.

“Don’t talk to me,” Jace said with a pout, swatting her hand away. “Traitor.”

A small laugh escaped Clary’s lips. “Hey, come on, now-“

“Okay, you know what?” Jace said, standing up. “Let’s ask Max. Maxie knows best.”

“Jace-“ Alec shook his head, a soft exasperated grin forming on his face. Magnus smiled up at him. 

“You’re adorable,” Magnus mouthed at him. Alec scrunched his nose, only adding to said adorability, and mouthed back at him.

“So are you.”

Meanwhile, Jace was leaning over Isabelle, meeting Max’s eyes. He was looking at Jace with large, oblivious eyes, his hand dangerously close to his mouth. Magnus was worried he would start sucking on his fingers again, but then Isabelle moved his hand away.

“Okay, Maxie,” Jace said. “You tell me who’s more handsome. Me, or your daddy?”

“Jace, he can’t speak yet,” Alec said, laughing. Jace only shot him a brief grin and then turned back to Max.

“Come on, you think uncle Jace is the most handsome, don’t you?” Jace crooned, making silly faces at Max. “Don’t you?”

“Back off,” Isabelle drawled. “It’s my turn to bond with Max.”

Alec sighed when the banter started again. Magnus had been mildly concerned when these people would break out into silly arguments over, well, everything, but he quickly learnt that that was just how family was. They laughed together, cried together, went on death-defying vacations and hell together, and got on each other’s nerves all the time. It was strange, but Magnus knew to enjoy this - having a family - while it lasted.

The first family he had ever had had turned dysfunctional the moment his warlock mark came out. Magnus had never dreamed of having a family after that - he’d had friends who would die for him, lovers willing to die with him, but not a family. Not until now.

"It's getting late," Magnus said, looking out the balcony doors. "You should stay over for dinner. How about pizza?"

Everyone was enthusiastic at the thought of pizza, and it didn't take long for them to call the nearby pizza place and place their orders. Pizza, Magnus supposed, was the only foolproof way to end any banter.

Sometimes, family was a four hundred year old warlock, his little baby warlock, his angelic boyfriend and his two siblings, a little red-haired shadowhunter and her human-turned-vampire-turned-shadowhunter best friend. And this family was only going to get bigger.

[daedricprincessorigin]

I have been encouraged to rewrite my Razum-dar x vestige fic from Raz's perspective. And so I do. Blame the goblin hoblin server.

Raz walked along the beach in the aftermath of the hurricane, checking each body he came across. He had yet to find one with a heartbeat or a single breath left in their body.

A blue flash in the sky. Razum-dar whirled around to look out over the ocean. Something fell out of the sky, landing in the shallow water with a splash. The Khajiit waited for it to wash to shore.

He found it a few feet away and a few minutes later. Or rather, he found *her*.

Razum-dar rolled the unconscious woman onto her back in the sand, relieved as he felt a pulse in her wrist and her neck. He sat back on his knees to get a proper look at her, as well as he could with only the stars and the two moons in the sky.

She was a khajiit, like him, but where his fur was the smooth tan of a lions pelt hers was the striped black and brown of a tiger. Her hair was long, dark brown strands in thicks dreads down her back with colorful stones braided in.

Raz carefully lifted her up in his arms, grunting to himself under his breath with the effort. She may have been a bit shorter than him, but she was well-muscled and armored.

Razum-dar carried her back to the makeshift camp the survivors of the hurricane had put together, and gently set the woman down on a bedroll in a ruined tower, food, water and a lamp beside her sleeping form.

In the morning, he stood a ways away from the tower, by a crumbling wall, waiting. When the woman finally came out, he called out to her.

"Good, you're awake now. This one is Razum-dar. You have him to thank for fishing you out of the ocean." He said. "Now tell this one, how is it that you came to be dropped into the sea in a flash of blue light during a hurricane?"

The woman locked eyes with him. "Ra'jaheeri was trapped in Coldharbor. She escaped through a portal."

Raz's eyebrows raised. "And is that what you will say to the others?"

Her eyes were greener than the leaves of Valenwood or the finest emeralds of Alinor, he thought as she glanced around. Ra'jaheeri looked back at him.

"That this one was a marine, caught by a wave in the hurricane, and separated from her crew and command."

Raz let out the breath he didn't know he was holding in a short laugh. "Good! You lie with confidence, a gleam in your eye! Come my new friend, why don't we see what we can do for each other, hmm?"

And he was gone.

Raz did not fall in love often. He was skilled at feigning it, flirting with contacts and whoever might be willing to give up the information he needed for a night of pleasure. But this was real. And it nearly scared him.

At first, Raz thought it was a mere infatuation that would pass soon enough. But events conspired to keep Ra'jaheeri in his path, working alongside him even. But everything she did just made the feelings stronger.

She was beautiful, yes, but it was so much more than that. That she knew who to trust, and who to watch for. That she could fight as well as the finest agents of the Thalmor, her twin blades flashing and whirling like sand-glass in the wind. That she was intelligent, and could figure out codes as fast as Raz could. She was witty too, bantering back at his jokes and flirting that he hoped to Kenarthi passed as teasing.

Eventually Ayrenn found him muttering to himself and pacing in an abandoned hallway late at night, and pulled him inside a study to talk.

"Raz, what's wrong? I've never seen you this agitated? I thought the threat was over, you and Ra'jaheeri stopped them."

Raz sighed, dropping into a chair. "No, no threat. Unless Raz could be considered one. To himself or to her, this one is not sure."

The Queen's pale eyebrows shot up, and she smirked. "Raz, my old friend..... do tell. Who is this 'she'?"

Razum-dar sighed. "She is beautiful. Capable. Smart. And probably only thinks of this one as a friend."

Ayrenn leaned up against a desk. "Do I know this woman?"

"Yes."

"Hmmmm." She tapped her lip with a finger, and grinned. "Is it Ra'jaheeri?"

His head shot up to stare at her. "How-" he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is Razum-dar that obvious?"

Ayrenn laughed. "Oh, probably just to me. It's adorable, really."

Raz stood back up to glare at her properly. "And you just let him flouder?" His stance shifted to something more playful. "Your best friend in all of Tamriel, and you watched him struggle with something you can see plain as day?"

Ayrenn shrugged. "You are *my* Eye, after all. You are supposed to see what I cannot."

Raz scoffed and rolled his eyes. Then he sighed again. "What is this one supposed to do? He can't just..... flirt with her like he does everyone else. How does he show her that he ....... he cares without seeming like he only gave her the opportunities because he thought she was pretty?"

Ayrenn shook her head slowly. "This is not really my affair, Raz. You are both my Eyes but that does not mean I have the right or ability to play matchmaker between the two of you. It is her choice. Do your best. Be honest. Come now, you've been hailed as one of the most charming men in the world, if you want her how could she say no?"

Razum-dar ran his hands through his short mohawk. "That is what this one is afraid of. That his heart will be broken because she thinks she can't say no."

They didn't speak about that conversation for a long time. Raz went about his business as usual. Stopping threats to Ayrenn and the Dominion, gathering intelligence, the like. The next time he met with Ra'jaheeri was in Reapers March.

He hadn't been avoiding her. Truly. Probably. Maybe. Okay Razum-dar had been avoiding her a bit. He was worried that the next time he saw her it would all come spilling out and she would stop trusting him.

He wasn't *exactly* suprised that she was chosen by the First Mane. He knew she was destined for great things. He just didn't know which.

Razum-dar was there as a witness, along with Ayrenn and the new Silvenar and Green Lady to see the ascension of the new Mane. He didn't see much of what was happening, and that made him nervous. Sitting there in a temple, watching Ra'jaheeri occasionally appear and then flit through another door just as soon as he could blink? That didn't exactly sooth him. He hated not knowing all of what was going on.

After what seemed like an eternity since the last part of the ceremony, a portal opened and she and the new Mane stepped out. Raz nearly sighed in relief, but then he saw Ra'jaheeri's face.

She barely looked at anyone else, just dropped her swords to the ground and nearly ran up to him, wrapping her arms around him in a deathgrip and pressing her forhead into his chest.

*Oh. Please? Please let this be what Raz hopes it is, Bright Moons and Dark Moons please.* He thought.

He guided her out of the ceremony hall full of watching eyes to give her some dignity.

"Hey, hey. What's wrong?" He asked, trying to sound calm and reassuring while hoping she couldn't feel how fast his heart was pounding.

"This one loves you. And it took watching you die for her to be brave enough to admit it."

Raz gently guided her down to the floor, sitting right next to her. "You were scared of something so little as that?"

*Wait that came out wrong. Ohhh, Raz really hopes she doesn't think that means he thinks her feelings are insignificant.*

But Ra'jaheeri snorted through her sniffles. "Nothing relating to you is ever small, Raz."

Raz smirked. "Is *that* what made you fell for him, hmm?"

She smacked him on the shoulder, but laughed anyway. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, anyway.

"This one also loves you." Raz said in a near-whisper.

Ra'jaheeri stared at him. "What?"

"From the moment we met." He realized out loud. "This one rescued a beautiful woman and she knows who to trust, who to lie to, and how to lie perfectly? And then it just got worse." He started tracing the tiles on the ground with a claw, his other arm still resting on her shoulders.

"But... why? You could have anyone in Tamriel. You could charm the two moons themselves down to dance for you, and you'd be able to rob them blind as they twirled." She wiped at her face.

Raz smiled. "Were you not just listening? You are right, Raz could have anyone in Tamriel, but he wants the woman who is strong enough to survive Coldharbor, dying countless times, the subterfuge of Altmer court, and still be gentle enough to cry." He lifted a paw to her face and stroked her cheek with a thumb.

Ra'jaheeri looked down. "This one is missing her soul. That is how she can die and come back so many times." She looked back up at him.

Razum-dar frowned. "You do not seem very soulless."

She looked back up at him. "This one is sorry for not telling you."

He shrugged. "The loss of a soul is not exactly something one goes about telling people."

"You don't hate her for being soulless?"

"Raz would be hard-pressed to think of something you could do to make him hate you. And he can think of lots of crazy situations, being a spy and all."

She smiled and leaned into him, her head resting on his shoulder. Raz wrapped his other arm around her and held her closer.

The door opened, and Ayrenn stepped through with a grin. "Well. It certainly took the two of you long enough!" She said.

"You knew this whole time?!" Ra'jaheeri asked.

The queen laughed. "How could my Eyes be so blind?"

She left, closing the door behind her, and leaving the two of them to themselves.

[yoshimickster]

Rwby Volume 7 Episode 1 “The Greatest Kingdom”-MICKSTERECAP

Wiggity what, what’s that, its the Micksterecap, wiggity what, what’s that, ITS THE MICKSTERECAP!

HEY everybody,  how y’all been? I’ve been good, working a lot, the usual. For anyone who doesn’t know,all Micksterecaps will be aired a WEEK after they air on Rooster Teeth and Vrv to avoid spoilers, and so I don’t have to tag as spoiler as HEY HEY I don’t get as many notes logically. With that-CLICK THAT READ MORE BUTTON AND LET’S LOOK AT SOME SHIPS!

HELL YEAH-aircrafts!

0:41 We then see the first shot of Team RWBYQOMJNR looking ALL sorts of terse about flying into the the occupied as ALL HELL kingdom of Atlas.

Weiss: I’ve never seen our forces deployed so aggressively before.

Ruby: What about at the Vytal festival? Bunch of ships there.

Weiss: Trust me, that was SLIGHTLY less aggressive than how aggressively they’re deployed here, its like coke and pepsi, a SLIGHT differentiation. 

The crew then decide to go seek out Winter(the only Schnee besides Weiss still worth a damn) and then get distance from the fleet and THEN WE SEE-

1:31 -one HELL of a cityscape, man I’d love to Batman that shit in a video game, just grapplin’ around like a fool, it’d be SWEET. We ALSO see-

1:54 -JAMES VIA BROADCAST-in all his bearded glory, a beard that I REALLY  hope he doesn’t shave off dramatically to signify that he’s getting better or some shit because DAMMIT-beards are not a symbol of depression their just awesome facial hair! You know what movie I’m talking about.

The crew then get told by the radio-lady that they gotta dock their ship, but its okay because Weiss says her sister will TOTALLY let them sneak in-

2:57 Winter: -failure to cooperate with Atlas military personnel is a punishable offense. 

Aw man, I wanted to see Winter and have her conspire to murder her and Weiss’s terrible dad. *SIGH* Maybe next episode.

Maria then decides to take them to a totally not important person with relevance to previous characters, docking their ship, and then meeting some of the local flavor of Mantle including:

3:57 Loose exposition about the current political state that wasn’t lazily explained by a main cast member(for ONCE)-

Antles Joe, preparing to play his Banjo-

-random graffiti that the show focuses on for NO foreshadowing reason, none at all so stop talking about it-

-A camera drone whose JUST two weeks from retirement.

Yang: GAH-my visage, it has been stolen!

Yang: YEET!

*SMASH*

Yang: OOH. Maybe we should pick up the pace?

Ruby: Maybe YOU shouldn’t kick surveillance drones!

Weiss: For real, that shit gets uploaded to the cloud IMMEDIATELY.

Yang: I DON’T LIKE SUPRISE PHOTOS OKAY?!

The group then continues their leasurely stroll and see NOTHING that bums them out about the city they’re i-

-ooooooooooh right, exploited Faunus workers...’dat not good.

After Blake makes a light comment about the crappyness of the city, they are THEN verbally acosted by-

-DRUNK GORDON FREEMAN! Man, the wait for the final Half-Life game is messing him up to huh?

Seriously, TELL ME this dude don’t look like Gordon’s shitburg little brother, its un-CANNY!

Blake being the nice young lady she is apologizes for insulting his hometown, and then Drunk Gordon fucks up in the worst way possible.

*PTOOIE*

Anytime a character spits after someone talks, you KNOW their gonna start shit.

Gordon: Shtupid faunus like you, wouldn’t understand-

It was at this point Drunk Gordon realized, he fucked up.

Weiss: Ain’t NOBODY shit-talk my girlfriend’s girlfriend.

After giving a drunk racist what for, the group then go to-

6:00 THE HEALING STATION-to replenish the HP and MP! I just hope it works Toad House rules where you don’t gotta pay, at least until the NEXT game where you pay for replenishing, which I GUESS was okay given you can earn more coins but BLEH.

Its here where we meet-

-PIETRO-absentminded genius of Atlas, and adjuster of Maria’s cybereyes and that is all he is, stop asking if he’s related to someone important SO THERE!

Pietro then gives them the straight shit telling them that after the fall of Beacon, James got SUPER paranoid given that whoever hacked Atlas’s codes was either a genius...or one of their own. And I just can’t even IMAGINE who it could be-Watts, its gonna be Dr.Watts, the trailer pretty much proved it.

Its at this point, where Pietro FINALLY realizes that he’s talking to Team RWBY, and given his absentmindedness he’s the ONLY  person I’ll allow for not recognizing said celebrities right away. And when Yang tries asking  him about Mantle he goes all-

Pietro:...you PAINTED it...and added bad ass scratch marks!

Yang: Well the scratch marks were an accident, but I’m not sure why you’d care abou-HOOBAZAWAH?!

The team is surprised he knows them(for some reason despite celebrity status) due to his daughter telling him about them, said daughter baring...NO meaning...to...the plot(KEEP IT TOGETHER MICK). Right before Rubalubes asks about his daughter-RANDOM GRIMM ENCOUNTER TIME-to which EVERYONE is fully armed fo-

10:07 Blake: DAMMIT-my blade is still symbolically broken, guess its bullets only.

And then Team RWBYQOMJNR just kics EVERY Grimm’s ass, Ren goes that way, Ruby goes the other, just a BILLION awesome attacks I’m not even gonna BOTHER clipping because this is just a still recap blog post and their all really fast and the next episode is 20 minutes after I’m finishing this so don’t call me lazy.

HOWEVER-I will show ONE awesome clip, LASER TIME BABY!

11:45 NICE cuh-leeeeeeeeeeeeeean cut!

Then lasers here, lasers there, LASERS EVERYWHERE! WHO-is the bad ass laser lady? Like I EVEN need to FUCKING say it!

12:15 Ruby:...Penny?!

Jaune: Oh so YOUR almost-girlfriend gets to come back to life, that’s fair.

SHE’S ALIVE MOTHER FUCKERS! Brought back to life by sacrificing a Maximal protoform, ALSO giving her flight capabilities! And yes I’m comparing Penny to Optimus and you can’t stop me.

And the next scene is JUST adorable.

Penny: Sal-

Ruby:...huh?

Penny: UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-

Ruby:(...OH SHIT-)

Penny: -TATIONS!

*PFFT* Paused at the RIGHT moment yo!

Ruby: AAAAAAAAAAAAH-INCOMING GIRLFRIEND!

Ruby: Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.

Precious.

13:04 Pietro(who is also her dad if you weren’t paying attention) than reveals that after the fall of Beacon, they were able to recover her Spark Chamber, I MEAN Core from the arena and fixed her RIGHT up! Even gave her flight abilities that look NOTHING like in the manga, but that’s loose canon at best so whatevs.

After Penny flies off to fight the rest of the Grimm, Nora then channels the ENTIRE Rwby fandom in one sentence:

13:46 Nora: I can’t tell if I completely understand what is going on, or have like a MILLION questions!

After that craziness, the team then follows Professor Polendina to his house where nothing else bad happe-

SHIT-anime streaks, BRACE FOR IMPACT!

14:15

DAMN-critical Dexterity fail all around.

Close it out with the team being arrested for saving the day because television, and that’s EP ONE yo! Really fun, glad Penny’s back, and can’t wait to see Ironwood either apologize or shittalk the team for doing their jobs because as said, TELEVISION! EITHER WEITHER-see you next week on MICKSTERECAP!

[thebeautyofdisorder]

Did You Miss Me? Adlock One-Shot, Rated M

Just in case the whole ‘links in posts make your shit invisible’ issue is still present, I’ll post directly to tumblr as well. Because why not? Here there be s-mut-tastic Adlock. Written over four years ago, and post Series 3 but Pre-Abominable Bride.

Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)

Pairing: Adlock (Sherlock Holmes/Irene Adler)

Rating: At least Mature, probably Explicit

Summary: Shameless and mostly plot-less smut. One-Shot. After the events of His Last Vow, Irene is already waiting for Sherlock at 221B. This was written before The Abominable Bride was released so it's only canon compliant so far as the end of series 3. Any other details, minimal as they are, were based purely on speculation at the time. 

Read below or if you’d prefer an AO3 link, I’ve posted it in a previous post on my blog. Also have ff.net if you’re feeling nostalgic. Ask and ye shall receive. The tags on AO3 do warn of obvious sexual content and minor but present knife play.

 Irene Adler was perched on his chair, hair loose, down, and slightly curled, his red dressing gown wrapped around her figure this time, the threat of whether or not she was naked underneath it unable to be ascertained from the naked eye at the position she was currently in. She tapped her uncharacteristically plain nails on the arm of the chair, lost in thought, only to be rescued from it by the turn of the key in the door and the stepping in of 'The Man.'

 She licked her blood-red lips (the one indulgence she had been unable to forsake and thus, permitted herself, from her 'old life') before a small smirk tugged at her lips as his eyes fell      into     hers, and she murmured coyly, "Thought I'd save you the phone call, dear. I do feel for your 'phone anxiety.'" She teased him lightly, coming to a stand finally and taking a step or two towards him.

 Sherlock drank her in with a combination of more or less equal parts delight and dread, neither of which showed through fully on his face. Mostly what came through, perhaps to his chagrin, was just a bounty of relief.

 "No complications in arriving, I hope?" He murmured with a quirk of his brow, slowly gliding towards her as well, by instinct more than thought. He didn't ask how she knew to come - not relevant nor surprising. "Weren't followed or harassed, or even vehemently stared at?" His lips barely twitched.

 She bit her bottom lip coquettishly, staring at him up through her thick, made-up eyelashes as she took another step towards him and glided a hand up his chest, carefully avoiding the area of his bullet wound before coming up to drag it along his left cheekbone.

 "Not until now...." She husked gently. "I'm very good at staying incognito when I need to be... Especially if it means getting to my      lover     faster..." She winked, knowing his distaste for the term, though lovers in the Elizabethan sense, they most certainly were, if not more.

 He pulled a face and made a bit of a rumble of discontent from his throat, over-dramatising his distaste accordingly.

 "Don't make me more ill, I just spent all afternoon with my brother," he teased, though his hand was almost absentmindedly playing over the curve of her hip in his dressing gown, stroking the edges of his fingernails over the lightly striped fabric, but only just. "Granted it was coming to agreement on how I      don't     have to go get myself killed in Eastern Europe, so I suppose it was productive..."

 She nodded slowly, leaning up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck as she pressed her lips to his 'chastely'-      titillatingly     before pulling back quickly to take a step back and slap him hard across his cheek.

 "Don't you      ever    allow yourself to get shot and almost die on me, ever again, do you hear me, Sherlock Holmes? If a woman ever does hold a pistol to you again, it will be      me    --though the context may be      questionable    ...." She softened on the last word, the same hand that gave the blow now coming up to soothe the sting.

 "Sorry, darling... Delayed reaction from my little hospital visit…”

 His eyes were sharp as he stared down at her, but not in a particularly vicious way, his jaw tensing in a brief tick of annoyance. He didn't protest. Instead, his arm shot out and ensnared her waist, yanking her body against his and nearly off of her bare feet, in retort for her assault.

 "Fair enough, Miss Adler, I'll vye for immortality if you'll join me," he challenged dryly, angling his head down at her.

 She cracked a smile, a dark but gentle chuckle following after it as she weaved her arms around his neck and knocked per pelvis against his.

 "Mmm, gladly, Mr Holmes. Think of all the      'dinners'    we could have....." She purred, her fingers tangling in his hair slowly, nails scraping along his scalp.

 He barely managed to bite back a groan. Damn woman knew his weaknesses. Luckily, it was mutual. He stroked a hand up and across her torso, across her chest leisurely, and up lightly to her throat. He spun on his heel and walked her backward, til her back pressed against the wall.

 "I believe infinity might actually bore us," he observed darkly, his other hand stroking down her hip, bunching the fabric of his dressing gown in his hand as he went.

 She gasped in appreciation as he pressed her against the wall slowly, her eyes darkening and her grip on his locks tightening as he sparked her arousal further.

 "Mm, perhaps... Though I don't think I could ever tire of...      you    ." She flirted sentimentally, though one hand had come down to grip his loins over his trousers as she uttered the last word, making it clear the ‘true’ direction of the compliment.

 A sharp intake of breath notwithstanding, his eyes merely narrowed at her as he pulled the dressing gown to the side, his hand gripping the bare flesh of her thigh with a sort of carnal relief. His hand stroked the creamy expanse of skin for a moment before hiking it up to his hip, fitting himself against her far more snugly in the process.

 "You are probably the only human being I could fathom not boring me after a century...you'd be too in danger of boring yourself," he murmured, now a breath away from her lips.

 She arched her neck back softly, a small moan escaping her throat as he 'manhandled' her and his own arousal met hers, though sadly obstructed by his clothing.

 "Mm, likewise, I'm sure." She replied tartly, tugging the dressing gown all the way down and off her torso to expose her breasts to him finally, waiting a moment to drink in his reaction.

 "Tell me, Sherlock dear, how long has been since we last      'ate?'    " She asked him in instigation.

 His eyes zeroed in on her chest, dark and searing, and his free hand came up to stroke over the curve of her left breast, indulgently. He narrowed his eyes in playful consideration before glancing back up.

 "One year, five months, two weeks, and three days," he rumbled as he ducked his head to take the bud of her nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over it as he applied suction.

 "Mmmahh!" Irene gave him a breathy moan, an echo of his text alert from days past, as his mouth accosts her breast, much to her appreciation and delight. "Mm, I do adore your addiction to precision and retaining facts...." She husked, as her hands, both now, tangled in his hair further, allowing them both to enjoy his actions for a few moments before she pulled his head back roughly, eyeing him darkly as she placed her foot against his hip suddenly and kicked him back.

"However, I also adore your 'selective patience,' emphasis on 'selective.'" She chided him, untying the dressing gown and letting it pool completely at her feet before she turned on her heel and padded her way to the kitchen. She ran a finger along the middle table, only pausing as her eyes spotted his microscope and smiled to herself before glancing back at him, coy and conspiring. She then turned back and leaned down to gaze into it, her bent over, bare arse, purposefully holding a place of prominence in his eyesight.

 He rolled his eyes and quietly  groaned to himself at her playing the coquette. Again. He was well acquainted with her tendency to play with her meals, so to speak, and he would've been more shocked had she been impatient enough to make this simple.      Wrong woman    , he mused in resignation as he followed her fleeing steps towards the kitchen, only to halt, at her stance.

 "See anything that interests you?" He rasped wryly once he'd recovered from his mouth going dry, walking up behind her cautiously. There wasn't much of technical intrigue in there, only some samples from his last case, but she was looking quite...      Intently    .

 Irene grinned like the Cheshire Cat as she felt his figure come up behind her, though, apparently, refusing to make any direct contact      yet    . She adjusted the focus of the microscope shifting her weight from her right hip to her left as she leaned back slightly, arse pressing against his arousal which left them in a      very    suggestive position as she feigned to act like she needed the leverage to 'see' the slide more properly.

 "AB+.... One of the rarest blood types there is... Hmm, was this the victim's or the perpetrator's, Mr Holmes?" She asked, 'matter-of-factly' as she continued to examine the blood slide, her buttocks flanking his erection and starting to grind on him ever so faintly.

 His jaw slacked as the sensation of her friction against his groin joined the highly intriguing fact she was identifying blood types in his microscope coincided into one large wave of arousal that sent a shudder down his spine. His hands made contact with her hips, fingers flexing with her subtle movement.

 "The uh...victim's," he rumbled distractedly, his right hand moving to trace up the curve of her spine. "The distinction of the blood was what made the perpetrator obvious...small traces under the fingernails..." He continued, pressing himself forward as he bent to brush his lips up the trek which his hand just made.

 Her bare flesh got goose pimples at his touch and then even more so at as she felt his lips echoing his touch along her spine.She took a moment to close her eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly as she willed the wetness that was eagerly gathering between her thighs, shifting her weight back to her right foot in a subtly effort to provide some sort of 'scratch' to her growing 'itch.'

 "T-That makes sense...." She stammered slightly, the only other physical indication that she was utterly and totally affected by him, right now. She righted herself, coming to her full height, as petite as that was, to lean her back against his chest momentarily before she bucked her arse backwards to force him back so that she could cross around the table to pluck a banana from a bundle he had apparently bought out of some impulse or need for potassium for some 'experiment.' She leaned against the counter, crossing her ankles as she eyed him lustfully, peeling the banana slowly, deftly, suggestively before finally asking--now under full 'control' once more.

 "So....      Sherlock    , 'impress a girl....' How long did it take you to figure out that last case, hmm?" She 'challenged' lightly, knowing the man got hard and off on nothing more than his own--or her own--intellect mixed with sexual content.

 His eyes narrowed, dark and growing more desperate by the moment, especially once he'd seen her obvious distraction. She was losing focus, in there somewhere.

 "About as quickly as I could gather all the components," he murmured, taking a couple steps towards her. "After I'd seen the blood type, I knew it was a possible red flag, so in theory it was rather immediate. Once the suspects were narrowed down, it became a process of elimination. All I needed was the opportunity to examine them," he explained in a low rhythmic tone, in tune with his steps as he crossed the room.  "In short, the case was closed, more or less, in three days."

 She watched him carefully, tossing the peel aside and before she brought the head of the fruit to her mouth, tongue darting out to circle the tip of it before she bobbed her head down and around the fruit before she bit the head off and started to chew it as she gazed at him darkly.

"Mmm, now that's my kind of man..." She purred playfully, echoing lost words before swallowing finally.

 He watched her little 'show' with wide exasperated eyes, his chest rising and falling in time with his faintly labored breathing. His steps continued towards her, forcing himself to keep a steady pace and not rush up to her. Unnecessary and a clear sign of desperation. When he came toe to toe with her he didn't stop, pressing forward with an arm on either side of her form, essentially trapping her between his chest and the counter.

 He didn't speak, merely angled his head and forcefully captured her lips with his, knowing she'd have a smart retort for anything he'd have to say. He didn't give her the chance.

 She responded by returning the pressure of his lips with her own and tossing the banana aside as her hands came up his chest to cup his face tightly,  thrusting her tongue into his mouth forcefully. He may have the dominant position physically, but she wasn't about to let him have it orally, as well. She growled as her teeth clashed with his, her actions becoming more primitive with each passing second.

 His hands rushed from the counter to her hips, needing some purchase on her anatomy as she had so clearly taken her own. It gave him the ability to press her back into the counter, taking his height to his advantage to try to regain some control. He straightened his back and angled his head down, attempting to match her force at the least, as he now could press down and into her mouth with his tongue. Once he felt he'd thoroughly attempted to make his point, his grip on her hips tightened as he lifted her weight onto the counter, concurrently pulling back only far enough to breathe.

 "Been awhile, Miss Adler?" He rumbled in a breathless taunt, unable to resist drawing attention to her rather telling aggression despite the hypocrisy, as he pressed himself between her dangling legs.

 She allowed him to lift her and assert his 'leadership' in their little foreplay scene,  cracking a sly smile at his remark and it's sanctimoniousness, the distinguishable 'tenting' of his trousers condemning him outright.

 "Apparently so, Mr Holmes. At least '      someone'    in this room isn't ashamed to say he missed me..." She teased him darkly, as she removed her right hand from his cheek to reach behind her subtly to a kitchen knife left out on the counter slowly, gripping it's handle carefully as she held his gaze with a steady, coy one of her own.

 His eyes widened only briefly on instinct, before they narrowed purposefully, eyebrow lifting faintly. He had little to no worry for his life in her presence, truly. His extremities were only a minimal percentage higher.

 "I missed you," he confirmed only a tad wryly, hoping the uncharacteristic, however true, response might just throw her off her game a tad. Which game she was playing, though, remained to be seen.

 She cocked her head slowly, his frank and strangely honest response so easily given automatically making her a bit suspicious, though the sincerity of his look softened her gaze and she 'rewarded' him with small smile before whispering,      "And I missed you, too."  

 She then dragged her index finger down his cheek and lips and down his neck before gripping his shirt tightly and tugging it towards her, thus pulling it away from his body, before she brought the knife from behind her back and quickly, and deftly cut each button from it's thread to reveal his bare chest behind the fabric.

 "You're even more charming       out    of your clothes, dear, care to say that last sentence again...?" She bit her bottom lip and grinned wickedly as she drew the tip of the knife down the centre of his chest, pausing where his trousers began and the beginnings of the auburn hairs of his 'happy trail' began.

 He scowled at her for a moment before his face contorted into a different sort of expression all together, feeling the beginnings of adrenaline threatening his bloodstream as she drug the blade southward. She did have a penchant for knowing his      intrigues    . Though instead of snatching the knife from her, as was his first instinct, or even listening to her request, he just glanced down with purposeful annoyance at his ruined shirt and sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth thoughtfully.

 "I suppose I deserve that from Paris," he snarked lowly, recalling an incident with him rather deliberately ripping what was      apparently     a rather expensive dress.

 She chuckled once before narrowing her eyes at his as she applied a dash of pressure with the knife as she retorted in mock annoyance, "      Quite    . That dress was a bloody McQueen..." She reminded him before bringing the knife down to the bulge in his trousers, dragging the tip along his obvious length titillatingly as she licked her lips.

 "Mmm.... To think, there was once a time when I'd rather have castrated you completely than merely arouse you with my own 'sword....'" She winked in self-amusement before continuing, "Thankfully, however, that attitude towards you really only lasted that      one     night..." She murmured, referencing the night he threw her to the dogs, in the shape of his elder brother, a bit of 'ammunition' she like to employ every once in a while, if only just to then prove his more than evident feelings towards her by always then following it up with the reminder of how he very quickly remedied that little blunder.

 He swallowed, he hoped subtly, and attempted to even his breathing, meeting her eyes in challenge. Oh, he knew exactly what she was insinuating, she did like to rub that in. But he chose the more blunt road for a response.

 "I think we're      both     rather thankful for that, this instant," he drawled, still feeling the tip of a knife exactly where a man      least     wants to feel one. Assuming, of course, he was decidedly 'normal' and wasn't just a tad amused at the obviously empty threat.

 She smirked and glanced down at the knife, circling the outline of his member's head lightly before removing it from the area completely, murmuring a hit of agreement as she did so. She brought it up and wielded it in front of him as she momentarily debated how to proceed with it, if at all before a slightly twisted but, nevertheless,      arousing    idea sparked in her mind.

 Without any explanation or warning, she grabbed his right hand from her hip and held it open before pricking the tip of his pointer finger until a small thread of blood began to ooze out. She then did the same to her right index finger, glancing at him briefly before setting the knife down to bring the accosted hand with her other up to her mouth. She locked eyes with him heavily as she ran her tongue up his digit, lapping up his most human, and 'sacred' bodily fluid into her mouth to 'digest' and mix with her own before sucking on it rather suggestively, her tongue circling the cut before applying pressure to clot the flow of the blood.

 As she did this she brought her own lightly bleeding digit up to his mouth, waiting for him to accept and perform, this 'self-ordained lover's ritual,' from his own free will, raising a single brow as her only attempt to 'challenge' him into it.

 He watched her with a strange sort of nearly-perplexed fascination, before his eyes lulled, turning heavy-lidded with arousal as her tongue stroked over the length of his finger, insinuation more than obvious. Then without rhyme or reason, the unspoken and fairly unspecified significance was returned as he dipped his mouth over her seeping digit. His tongue swirled over the wound itself with deliberate dexterity to counter her own, relishing the coppery taste no matter the oddness of the circumstance. It was an unbridled extension of      her     which made it no more off limits to him than any of her other bodily fluids.

 He sucked the tip of her finger into his mouth fully, before biting down lightly just below where she'd split the skin, as he pulled it from his mouth.

 She let out a moan of utter eroticism as he bit down and sucked the blood from her finger before abandoning it. Her eyes, too, were heavy and full with lust and desire at their little exchange and she stared into his eyes as she echoed his action, dislodging his finger from her mouth, only to glance down at the bit of blood still on it before painting her lips with it and rubbing them together as one would with lipstick.

 "I think I      much     prefer this shade to the one in my purse... Might have to take a bottle back with me...." She husked lowly, swallowing the contents of his digit finally as she continued to gaze at him daringly, her implication both clear and slightly ambiguous.

 His eyes locked to her mouth, lips twitching at her action and the implication that came with it. He drew his finger back from her grasp, the dull sting nearly impossible to distinguish through the rest of the blood gushing through his veins. He perhaps waited a few seconds before his hand gripped the back of her neck harshly and pulled her forward, sucking the taste of his own lifeblood from her lips with a hunger that he wouldn't have fathomed rational. His other hand had shifted itself from her hip to gripping her inner thigh, pressing it further away from its companion so he could press as flush against her as the counter would allow.

 Her hands flew to his chest, running her nails up his bare skin before exploring his pectoral muscles and nipples as she hungrily returned his kiss with just as much force and expression. She moaned into his mouth,- a moan of sheer want and need for      him,     and      only him,     to fill her up once more; to satisfy her once more; to 'make love'--as      sentimental     a phrase it was--once more, before she wrapped her legs around his waist to hug his groin against hers, needing some sort of friction against her throbbing nub, lest she go mad from desire.

 He groaned at the contact, low and rumbling in the back of his throat, bucking his hips against her centre thoughtlessly, at both their detriment. He recovered quickly, letting go of her entirely to pull the tattered remains of his shirt off of his arms, yanking it from his trousers and letting it fall to the floor, all without hardly breaking from her mouth. He ripped open his belt in a frenzy, and unzipped his trousers for the sake of relief from how tight they'd become, but otherwise left them in place, instead turning his attention back to her.

 His left hand wrapped around her waist, urging her to the very edge of the counter while his right was urging up her inner thigh. He didn't waste much of his or her time, immediately pressing a thumb to her clit just to hear her sharp intake of breath at the sudden contact after leaving it wanting.

 "Ahhhhh..." She exhaled upon inhaling pointedly, nipping his bottom lip in automatic response to his assault. She pulled back and stared up at him, her right hand ghost in down his chest before gripping his length over his pants and squeezing faintly, as she purred, "You know, Sherlock, we've never 'christened' your flat... Let alone your      bed...    Well,      I    have...but your cock is      much     preferable to my hand...." She winked at her 'confession,' before biting her bottom lip seductively.

 The moment her statement clicked was most assuredly visible on his face, much less the faint growl that she could probably feel reverberating through his chest. He tilted his hips into her grip, even as his two fingers began to tease her rather soaked entrance, pressing on either side but not moving towards it.

 "You're a very bad woman," he remarked      almost     casually, as though it were a fact he were recalling as opposed to a direct accusation. His thumb began to shift back and forth. "But you are quite correct..."

 She gyrated her hips in a desperate attempt to manipulate his touch. She whimpered softly, an action she was slowly, and secretly, growing more accustomed to enjoying as her hand around him tugged his cock in silent retribution.

 "And      you    are a very bad man." She hissed. "Besides, dear, we      both     know that image, and fact, is making you even harder as we speak... Why else do you think I insisted on showering before we 'chatted' about the mobile...?" She pressed.

 He didn't give her the satisfaction of a direct response, confirming the obvious, though the pained desire was probably clear on his face. Instead he merely plunged both of his teasing fingers inside of her suddenly, successfully dropping the focus from his arousal and nailing it clearly on her own. He crooked them knowingly, raising his brows.

 "An excuse to steal my clothing?" He teased in a strained murmur, his other hand making its way north, brushing over her breast and across her collarbone to grip the side of her neck.

 She groaned in appreciation her kegel muscles flexing around his fingers as added testimony to her 'thanks.'

 "That, too." She rebutted finally, her hand dipping under the waistband of his pants to grip his cock directly, thumb padding over his tip before she reached further south and massaged his testicals, something she had discovered to be      very    effective with him. Apparently, his hair follicles weren't the only unusually, overly-sensitive nerves in his body, even as far as the male reproductive system went.

 "If I wanted fingers, Mr Holmes, I'd just do it myself,      again    ." She half-teased/half-jested clippedly.

 His lips parted in a low moan at her new focus, arching up on his toes almost without thought to encourage her actions. He refocused on her quickly though, despite his laboured breathing, bringing his fingers out before delving them back in deeper than he knew she was capable of, just for spite, satisfying his own selfish wants more than anything. Slowly pulling them out in earnest, his thumb nail grazing her clit in parting.

 He brought those fingers to his lips, sucking her flavour from them, his eyes locking on hers in preemptive warning. Savoring her response for only a moment, as he let the digits slide from his mouth, his hand quickly latched onto the slender wrist that was still on the inside of his pants, yanking it free to give him the freedom to crouch in front of her, hands moving to stroke up her thighs.

 A shudder swept down the back of her spine as she watched him taste her juices, pupils dilating even further at the arousing, not to mention       flattering    , sight.

 Her breath caught in her throat, however, as she watched him kneel in front of her, her mind suddenly realising what it was exactly he was planning on doing. He hadn't done that since the time before last--Paris being far more frenzied and rushed.

 "Eating      out    , then are we?" She couldn't help but joke, though her voice was shaky and more than a little unsteady, as she brought her hands to curl in his locks lightly.

 His lips were brushing her inner thigh tauntingly as he murmured in response, "You are in my kitchen," biting into the flesh briefly before his arm curled around her hip, angling her pelvis towards the edge of the counter so it was as exposed as could be without her falling, giving her one long swipe of his tongue from her entrance up to her nub. He repeated the action, darting inside of her briefly along the way.

 "It would be wrong not to partake," he rumbled against her before his lips latched onto her clit, sucking it into his mouth as his tongue dashed against it.

 She let out a series of successive moans and gasps, her back arching as she jutted her hips forward at each lap and suckle of his tongue and mouth. Her fingers tightened in his hair and she exhaled slowly, trying to gather herself before responding jaggedly, "Well, who am I to argue with      that     logic...." She gasped again and let out a soft whimper.

 "Fuck, you are skilled at that....      Almost    as good as I am...." She couldn't help but compliment him, despite knowing how even more it would inflate his bloody ego, the successive years of holding his 'V-Card' only making his sudden      gift    for the act all the more impressive      and     annoying.

 Hearing her make those bloody infuriatingly      distracting     noises was doing nothing for his ability to ignore his own arousal, and his hands tightened on her thighs in response. He growled as he fucked her with his tongue rather greedily, his amusement that she was actually going out of her way to      praise     his ability almost drowned in his focus.      Almost.  

 "I'd      love     to know how you'd be able to compare," he pulled back enough to quirk a brow tauntingly at her lack of logic, his lips twitching up into a brief smirk as he nipped at her once more before he stood to his feet between her legs, eyes just smug enough to be noticeable, which was less than his norm at times, already tugging his trousers from his hips.

 She quirked a pointed brow at him as her eyes narrowed, a single hand reaching up to grab his chin violently as she replied with mild acidity, "Don't even      think    about suggesting having a threesome, Sherlock. I      don't     share well.... Besides, I'd hate to show you up..." She winked teasingly before pushing his chin back to help him get his damned trousers off.

 "Now for fuck's sake,      dear    , will you      PLEASE    fuck me?" She half hissed/half begged.

 "Would scarce know with who," he drawled rather tellingly, he realized a bit too late, as he stepped out of the pants and trousers now pooled at his feet. He had yet to find another woman who could inspire in him what she could. If it was worth anything, his little faux-relationship with Janine just exemplified      that     in his mind. He couldn't even fathom taking anyone else but her into his bed, just as before her he couldn't fathom hardly anyone at all. But he dismissed that rather      sentimental     thought process as soon as his bare flesh met hers. He let out a brief groan as his cock pressed between her legs, no longer impeded by his clothing.

 "Though it occurs to me you may just be begging," he roughly mused, despite the fact his left hand had grasped her hip hard enough to bruise, and his right was already grasping his cock in hand, quite ready to do her bidding.

 She grunted at his first statement, as she wrapped her hands around his neck in preparation to mount him, nails digging into it's nape in silent response.

 She raised her eyes at his latter comment, however, before narrowing them significantly as she dug her heels into the top of his arse to jut him forward, thus successfully forcing their loins to 'greet' each other 'palm to palm.'

 "I could argue the same case about your physicality, Mr Holmes. Would you like me to? Or would you rather we concede and admit we      both    are begging for it and get closer to the part where I      sheath    that      throbbing     cock of yours..." She quirked a brow, and making sure the stress the two, more, graphic words to 'influence' his answer.

 "Touché," he rumbled unevenly, jaw flexing at the intimate contact. He managed to fight her legs' grasp long enough to pull back and grip his cock once again, his hand on her hip shifting back and under her arse for angle and leverage as his tip finally pressed to her entrance.

 "Though you've got to admire the irony," he quipped, intent on getting the last word, just as his hips bucked forward and he began to quickly press into the familiar heat of her, exhaling in a hiss at his perhaps faulty decision to nearly ‘sheath’ himself in one go. Patience was never his virtue.

 She was about to roll her eyes and let out a reluctant chuckle when his sudden, and      full    , thrust into her caught her slightly off guard, causing her eyes to widen and a sharp gasp to issue from the back of her throat.

 She winced as he filled her, his girth always a tad painful on the first few thrusts. She grunted and and pulled back to glance down at him in mock disapproval before murmuring, "....Perhaps the only--      ow    --good thing about our yearly rendezvous is that--      ahh    --every time manages to feel like the... first....." She muttered as she wrapped her legs around his waist and regripped before hoisting her chest up and against his, putting all her weight on his form now.

 Sherlock had nearly put himself into shock--nearly--but was regaining the ability to function as quickly as he was able. He took a shuddering breath, getting re-accustomed to the tight heat encompassing him, as she was apt to point out, he nearly always had to do. Pro or con to their unique status, he was never sure.

 "Apologies," he murmured as his head ducked and rested into the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin before he began kissing and nipping at the skin by way of distracting her from the apparent discomfort.

 She arched her neck to allow him greater access, hands pushing down on his shoulders to hoist herself up a bit so that she could slam down again, knowing that once she was fully slicked up and the ball was rolling, so to say, the slight discomfort quickly gave way to pleasure.

 She moaned at his kisses and even found herself smiling privately at his 'apology,' an abundance of subconscious sentiment clearly at the root of it. She lifted his head up to look him in the eye as she replied with amused seriousness, "No need to do so, dear. Your ability to be,      irritatingly    , above average in all the necessary areas of life is just one of the many reasons why I      hate    you." She reminded him between heavy breaths.

 '      Hate    ,' of course, standing in for the word she really meant. The word that she knew he knew she meant. They had come to confess their feelings in this twistedly ironic way a few meetings back, as they were parting ways. Each adopting that preferred word to it's sister that the rest of the mundane world seemed so obsessed with employing. Besides, this way, they each, technically, had an out. Could always deny--'on paper,' at least. The look in her eye, however, and the sincerity of her voice, would damn her for all eternity, however.

 Funny thing was, though, when it came to '      The     Man,' she didn't actually give a damn about that old pride.

 He caught onto her obvious intent as quickly as he caught her weight, her quick will to begin in combination to her clear sentiment almost catching him off guard. But as opposed to playing the deer in the headlights, his lips twitched into a dazed if present smirk and he pressed her weight against the counter again for leverage as he urged her up and the thrust back upward to meet her as she dropped.

 "And I very much..." He thrust upward once again, quirking a brow. "...      Despise     you," he replied darkly, keeping a lightness to the statement as best he could manage, lest the sentimentality they were so seeking to avoid, decide to kick in.

 Her lips merely twitched at his reply before his thrust overcame her and she let out a rather vocal cry of a moan, her fingernails scraping up his back as she rode a rather sudden wave of mounting pleasure and warmth that was making its way from her core to her outer extremities.

 She glared down at him in utter infatuation and (self-) annoyance before barking out a shaky, "B-bedroom. Now. N-need.       More    ..."

 He didn't need any further encouragement, lifting her up with his arms under her arse and angling his weight, he stalked the short distance to the hall and kicked open his door with no hesitation, even at the worrisome creak. He'd fix it      later    .

 He hiked a knee onto the bed before dropping her weight onto it, barely retracting from her before he was on her again, arms on the mattress on either side of her head plunging back into her with an appreciative curse. The angle was much more satisfactory.

 Irene spread her legs as widely as she could as soon as her back hit the bed, greeting his first thrusts in this new position and place with as much reception as she could give him. Her hands flew out and tangled in the duvet cover, knuckles whitening as she let out a series of whines and 'oh’s’ without immediate presence of thought.

 "How...thin...are...the...walls?" She gasped in ecstasy, as she brought her right leg up to hook around his neck to provide him with even more room for depth, and also silently informing him of her compliance to don the 'submissive' role--      for now    .

 "Thick," he rumbled breathlessly, using her acquiescence to his advantage as he plunged further with an appreciative groan, ducking his head as he rocked forward, banging the headboard against the wall.

 "But...perhaps not thick enough," he husked with a certain amount of amusement in his eyes, arching onto his knees to thrust forward with a curve of his hips, deliberately trying to wring another moan from her for emphasis.

 She could tell what he wanted and was trying to get out of her, to which she more than happily gave him, and then some, crying out in an almost uncharacteristically 'sex kitten' fashion, "      Ohh, Mr Holmes....!"    followed by a few grunts and panting breaths as she wriggled beneath him. Her other leg coming up to throw over his shoulder as her head turned frantically to the side to bit into the pillow, a desperate attempt on her part to stifle her cries and whimpers of pleasures lest he be      too    pleased with himself.

 For, to be sure, despite the rather, 'porn-star-esque' response she was currently giving him--and one she hadn't much used with him, if ever, before--Irene Adler was      no    faker, at least, when it came to her personal, love life. Her response was utterly--even if embarrassingly so to her--organic. She only hoped the base, male, primitive mindset that he clearly had a little bit of would respond to these novel and 'conventional' reactions--if only      because     they were novel      for her    .

 She also was bound and determined to seek revenge in a few moments. No man would make her whimper like that and finish on top. Not even      Sherlock Holmes    , she mused decidedly.

 Her response merely spurred him on, for even under duress he could at the least read her for genuineness and she was fighting it now with a will, feeling another shock of pleasure strike him as he watched her reckless abandon. His focus staggered briefly, but he growled his way through a moan and thrust forward more quickly, feeling himself seek out those sounds now that she'd granted them. He leaned more upright, gripping her leg where it draped over his shoulder and nipping and licking up the expanse of it he could reach.

 "      Mmm... Sherlock....!"    She whined at his nips, the toes of her accosted leg curling in his hair as she arched her back up, to meet his thrusts.

 She allowed him a few more self-gratifying thrusts to which she returned with girlish moans and whimpers before, suddenly, bringing her right foot from his shoulder and halting his movement by planting her foot squarely in the centre of his chest. She sat up, placing her weight on her elbows as she glared at him evenly before pushing him back with a grunt and and moving to her knees to face him dead on.

 A hint of a smiled played on her lips as she raised her right brow slowly, running a hand up his chest before tangling it in his curls to yank his head backwards and up violently. She pressed her form against his and leaned up to hiss into his ear, "My turn, darling..." only to hook her leg around his as she twisted and pushed his figure back and down onto the bed, crawling on top of him to pin him against the bed in an act of dominance and possession.

 "Can't let you 'boys' have all the fun," she purred into his ear before sitting back slightly to run her slit along his length and tease his pulsating tip with her inviting warmth wickedly.

 He growled out a groan of surprise and aroused fury, even though he      knew     she was likely to play her card eventually. She had an annoying habit of lulling him into false security before striking. Infuriating woman. But she did stay true to her point and skillset he couldn't help but notice. She knew exactly what he 'liked' -- a challenge.

  She was sending sparks through his nervous system with his teasing, causing his hips to buck and his leg muscles to twitch. His hands flew to her hips, digging in hard in an attempt to end her torment, but all he succeeded in was increasing her friction, and he scowled helplessly. He could overpower her, but the fight was seldom worth it, or so he assured himself.

 Irene chuckled darkly, leering down at him lasciviously as she shifted her weight to her knees to lift her pelvis up and off of him completely, proving that      no contact    was even worse than then the ghostings of it.

 She then ran her hands up her thighs and hips, ripping his own off to grope herself, alone and unaided, toying with his clearly, 'regular,' male porn preference, as she employed the 'usual actions'--hands gliding up her waist to circle the sides of her breasts and swirl around her taut nipples, teasing herself and him by avoiding them for a bit.

 She pouted down at him, biting her bottom lip sensual before husking softly, "Oh,      Mr Holmes    , did you really think I was going to indulge your base, male fantasy for the      entire    time?" She circled her areolas before pinching and twisting her nipples suddenly letting out a whiney moan as she looked down at him in erotic amusement.

 "Don't get me wrong,      Sherlock    , I'll be your little slut, porn-star girl any day of the week...any way you want me...any fantasy you wish to play out...I'll even be your slave, if you fancy...      But,     just keep in mind, dear...." She began to warn gently, leaning down over him slowly as she slipped a hand between them to grip his length tightly, before continuing, "...Every time you make me      whimper     and      moan     and      whine     and      beg     like a little girl who      needs     more--which you do      quite     well, much to my chagrin, grant you--" She grumbled lightly, licking her lips as she winked, before finishing with, "...I'll make you do the same--      twice over    ." She hissed against his lobe, slamming herself down and around him as deeply as the angle would allow on her last words.

 He threw his head back with something not dissimilar from a roar, his hands clawing at her waist and his teeth clenching as he fought the throbbing ache shooting down his spine at the sudden move. Fighting to catch his breath, he finally gripped her hips again tightly and bucked up, in an attempt to counter her, but it hardly stood up to the challenge.

 "Lucky for me...have no need of slavery," he managed in a ragged, breathless rumble, having nothing to fear of that retribution at least. Who would ever want to tame this glorious, albeit      evil,     creature he couldn't say, but it would strain credulity to attempt.

 She grunted in approval of his statement as she leaned down to capture his lips with her own, nipping and biting them with a ferocity of a lioness in heat as she lifted and slammed her pelvic floor down against his, grinding it in place as she squeezed her walls around him with each go before abandoning his mouth to lean her weight back onto her centre--fully upright as he was sheathed at a full, and deep, ninety degree angle.

 She let out a subtle moan as she gyrated her hips in a circular motion, hitting each cardinal direction of her walls as she dragged her nails down his chest.

 "Mmm.... You remind me of my first horse, Mr Holmes. I was quite the equestrian. Dear me did he have a foul temper and was about as haughty as spoiled prince. But he was magnificent and quite the beast. 16.1 hands...about as tall as you.... However....I think I much prefer this mount..." She teased in self-amusement, as she began bob up and down on him in this new position.

 He found his body was following her lead of its own accord, bracing into her movements with a counter-rhythm no matter his inner rebellion.  He was fighting to keep his focus as she see seemed more than determined to rip it from him, and his eyes narrowed at her in challenge.

 "I suppose that's...a compliment," he ground out with obvious force, his hands starting to roam upward for distraction -- both hers and his own -- and cupped her breasts roughly, squeezing and trapping the bud of her nipples between his fingers.

 She exhaled a soft hissing sound as he groped her breasts, leaning into his pinches as she steadied her weight forward again, her hands splayed on his pectoral muscles as she began lifted and dropped herself around him faster and harder, beginning to feel herself lose control as the wave of climax climbed higher and higher, threatening to crash her on his shores any second.

 "      Fuck    ...I'm so close....Come with me, Sherlock..." She whimpered softly, her dominatrix persona forgotten in this sudden, heightened state of ecstasy with him.

 He growled in wordless agreement, unsure his tongue was even capable of forming them at the moment. She had a unique talent for driving him speechless that no one else had managed to possess, no more exemplified than at this very moment. He bridged his hips into her last few thrusts for the sake of it, giving her more stimulation for entirely selfish reasons, he was afraid. It drove him to bursting just as he felt her tightening around him.

 His groan was guttural and throat ripping and his lower abdomen clenched nearly to the point of pain as he finally let the wire snap, hands flying back to her hips, digging in and holding her tightly in earnest. He found himself leaning upward beneath her, as though the force of it pulled him from the pillows.

 Irene let out a guttural cry of sheer euphoria bliss as she felt him buck and come within her, her walls clenching around violently and successively, as if squeezing every last drop of      him     from his load was some unconscious goal of her womb.

 She threw her head back as another wave suddenly arrested her once more, a sharp whimper of appreciation escaping her throat before it was replaced by her weighty pants. She fell forward against him as she fought to catch her laboured breaths slowly.

 She wrapped her arms around his neck, barely able to feel her hands so overcome with pins and needles were they, before resting her forehead against his finally.

 She listened to their heaving inhales and exhales, their breathing power somehow syncing along with the beating of their hearts. She was tempted to roll her eyes and make some ‘disgusted comment,’ but decided to endorse the moment, for who knew when they’d be so joined again. With Jim back, the danger was ineffable once more.  

 His body slowly relaxed, and his eyes fluttered closed, feeling heavy and numb as he sank into the pillows once more, but her weight against him still felt heated and tingling. He found himself running his hands up the curves of her back subconsciously as their panting breaths mingled, her warmth bringing the feeling back into him. There were very few times Sherlock was ever relaxed, outside of the force of severe exhaustion, but she always managed it, even if briefly.

 "Do we always follow near-death experiences with nearly killing each other," he managed to quietly joke in a deep, if strained murmur, lips twitching faintly.

 She let out a half laugh, pulling back gently to ask out of want of clarification, “Firstly, I’d hardly call sex ‘killing each other,’ dear, quite the opposite, if I do say so myself. However, I will grant you that our means to the end differ significantly from the average pedestrian. But, we are not ‘the commonwealth,’ are we?” She winked before leaning down to nibble his lip playfully.

 “But I will grant you, the near-death thing seems to be, an annoying and unfortunate, set-up….” She sighed almost wearily, a soft sadness ending her tone before she added gingerly, “Perhaps, one day, it won’t be the necessary ‘aphrodisiac….’” She murmured wistfully, her index finger circling an obtuse pattern on his chest, not wanting him to remove himself from her just yet.

 He hummed slightly in appreciation at her touch, as well as in thought, his hand still tracing up her spine, in odd swirls and angles.

 "Seems 'motivation' is more appropriate. We hardly need aphrodisiacs..." He murmured in correction, with a faint hint of a smirk, though it was also a tad melancholy. "It typically takes one of us nearly being shot or decapitated to drive us across whichever continent divides us," he added in consideration. "And there is that pesky 'death' status we keep falling into."

 She leaned forward resting her elbows on his chest as she gently, and slowly allowed him to slip out of her before settling back down above his nether regions, resting her chin on his sternum as she replied drolly, “I meant it as metaphor, you cad….Believe you me, I’m      more than    aware at our ability to make any and every word, look, situation, and context highly…..      adult    .”

 She leaned pressed a kiss to his skin before glancing up at him once more to add, “...Mmm, I suppose      one    of us being alive on paper again might actually make things easier in the future… The double ghost was getting a bit absurd… Let’s not recall the horrendous blonde, bob cut wig I had to don just to get into the bloody Ritz in Paris…” She shuddered in hyperbolised repugnance.  

 "Not the most flattering," he winced playfully, making a rumble of disapproval in his throat. "Though that idiotic suit wasn't my finest hour," he added honestly and for fairness, rolling his eyes faintly. His hand settled on the small of her back, in a nearly casual manner.

 "Though, yes. At least one of us being legally present is quite helpful..." He stated in agreement, lips turning up at the thought. "At least we're not both scattering about the map."

 She laughed softly, “Yes, double breasted suits should be left in the 80s never to be seen or heard from again. And do try to stay alive, this time round, all right? For my       ‘appetite's’     sake, if nothing more.” She grinned, leaning up nip his nose playfully before rolling over on her back and stretching as she yawned faintly.

 “Mmm, I did miss your bed… Besides the one in my flat in Belgravia, I think yours is the most comfortable and      arousing     bed I’ve ever had the pleasure of sleeping in, shame you don’t indulge in the act.” She couldn’t help but jibe him coyly, nipping his shoulder just for the sheer thrill of it. She was feeling very frisky and, well, Christ,      happy    .

 He quirked a brow, but didn't question her excitement, quite frankly feeling a similarity. He gave her a teasing bit of a shrug, turning over on his side to loom over her slightly in an oddly quick motion in terms of his relaxed state.

 "Clearly you've remedied      that,    on a few different levels," he husked near her ear rather obtusely.

 Irene shivered softly as his breath hit her ear, sending goose pimples down her back. She leaned into him, frontside pressing against his as she toyed with his light chest hairs before murmuring in feigned innocence, "Oh please, I only drugged you the      one    time, and I'm sure you needed the rest... And it's not my fault the only time you are able to sleep on your own natural, biological accord is upon having mind-blowing orgasms at 'my hand...'" She winked as she glanced up at him quickly, hoping to see some amusement cross his face. She did love being one of the      few     people that could make him laugh and indulge his, albeit narrow, sense of humour--that wasn't vile or at anyone else's expense--except, perhaps, his own. Which, in itself, was a feet of Everest proportions with      his    egotistical personality.

 He chuckled briefly at her rather true-ish statement, rolling his eyes fondly. "Sleep is an elusive bitch at times, yes. Outside of drugs and injury, I typically need something to tire my mind and that's a rare accomplishment...relaxing it's even rarer." It was meant, however oddly, as a compliment, his fingers tapping out a rather subconsciously complex pattern on the skin of her side.

 She chuckled softly, burrowing her face into his chest as she took a deep inhale, indulging in the natural scent of him and those divine pheromones that he gave off.

 “Mmm, thank you, dear, I’m flattered, once again..” She murmured into his chest softly.  

 "Don't be," he murmured in a playful mockery of irritation, half-arsed at that, harkening back to his first response to his so-called flattery. It always sounded like foolish denial, and he played on it now, even as he let out a quiet rumble of appreciation at her moving closer, throwing his arm around her thoughtlessly. He indulged the sensation for a moment before shifting back a tad.

 "I'll be right back," he said simply into her ear, brushing his lips against it faintly, figuring his destination would be rather obvious as he reluctantly pulled himself from the sheets to stand to his feet, and pad towards the door.

 She hummed in appreciation at his sentimental ‘loo-parting,’ at one point utterly unfeasible that he would ever adopt such ‘sweetheart’ acts of behaviour with her. Like with most other things, however, he always managed to surprise her with his uncanny ability to evolve, even if it was to his minor ‘self-stated’ chagrin.

 She rolled over on her stomach as he left, tilting her head to the left to appreciate the view his exit so gratuitously gave her.  

 Once he was gone, however, she let out a melancholy sigh, glancing at the digital clock which glared at her the early morning time disdainfully. It was odd, the way she suddenly felt unwanted, or that she was out of place, at his, now that their coupling had finished. Although, to be fair, they never had only ‘dined’ one time--it usually at least hit the four or five mark, if not higher. Yet, out of some deep-rooted fear or anxiety she had the distinct feeling that to spend the night with him      here    , in 221b Baker Street, was somehow indicative of some ‘serious step’ in their ‘relationship’--whatever terms, labels, titles, and regulations that that term held with regards to them. Spending the night in all of their previous rendezvous was more than assumed, as they had always spent the night in some hotel or secretive meeting place. But now that they were back on English soil, and especially, his, personal soil she was not about to risk heartache at assuming, and assuming wrong, tonight.

 That being the case she, reluctantly, sat up, stretched and made her way down the hallway to the bag she had left on the couch, grabbing a pair of black jeans, leather ankle boots, and a black cashmere V-neck top, along with her lace undergarments, before padding back to his room to begin to change and figure out her next ‘moves.’

 He made his way back to the room fairly quickly, out of instinctive anxiety, and it seemed once again he wasn't wrong. He would've liked to have been, for once. He stood silently for a moment, watching her back as she moved to fasten her bra, and only then did he quietly stalk up behind her. His hand over taking hers and unclasping it beneath her fingers once again, he pressed her shoulder to turn her around to face him, urging her to let him remove the lace from her arms.

 "Get back into my bed," he said simply as a vaguely sardonic command, his very typical 'Sherlock Holmes' attitude returning, if briefly, with a challenging tilt of his head. "If for no other purpose, I have every intention of picking your brain in the morning."

 She locked eyes with him, a silent exchange flashing between then before a small, relieved smile tugged at her lips and she glanced down, blushing ever so lightly at her silly ‘female’ train of thought. He was a far better man than that, and they had come too far together now to still be      playing the game    , at least, the high-stakes emotional one--that was all settled now, more or less, apparently. The sexual, mental one--well, that was      always     in play, to be sure.

 “Clever boy. You passed ‘The Test…’” She teased him lightly, more teasing      herself    , however, in vocally acknowledging her corrected, unnecessary actions.

 Once her bra was off and safely on the floor, where it belonged, she wrapped her arms around his neck, a sultry haze beginning to cloud over her eyes, before grinding her pelvis against his as she challenged darkly, “Now then, Mr Holmes, how about breaking our previous record…?”  

 His lips turned up into a wicked, knowing sort of smile. She was of course calling her own bluff, and he was more than happy to let her, one of his hands easily bracing the back of her skull as he practically lifted her off of her feet into a seething kiss, partially even out of gratitude for her continued presence. One wouldn't think they'd been perfectly satisfied not too many minutes before, but that was, he supposed the nature of suppressing oneself to an annual coupling...or, a few.  Especially with them, it seemed.

 He had to wonder when exactly they'd managed to be considered oddly      monogamous,    at least on her end. It had never been an issue in his mind, but when she began bluntly insinuating she'd been bottling for his sake, he had always wondered. He'd never had the nerve to ask, or perhaps he just would rather not have known. But he was obscurely thankful for it regardless. He didn't have to look too far past her unbridled appetite to see the proof, or they'd never have managed to christen the rest of his flat, and manage to sleep in between, over the next 14 hours.

[truthbeetoldmedia]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine 6x11 “The Therapist” Review

Since Season 1, Jake’s refusal to go to therapy (and even outright dismissal of the validity of therapy), despite the obvious lingering issues he has from being abandoned by his father as a kid, has been a recurring theme. In “The Therapist”, all of this finally comes to a head, as Jake comes to terms with why he’s been so resistant to receiving help for some of his past trauma.

For the most part, this episode handles the topic of mental health well; both Terry and Charles talk about how they regularly go to therapy, and Terry is astounded that Jake has never sought out a therapist after everything he’s been through. (To recap: Terry brings up how Jake was shot by Amy, held at gunpoint and forced to write his own suicide note by his ex-girlfriend’s ex-boss, sent to prison for a crime he didn’t commit, and joined and gang and tried meth while at said prison. And that’s not even mentioning the time Jake spent in the mafia, or in witpro in Florida, or all the other traumatic stuff he’s exposed to just by being a cop.)

And although the episode does talk mental health — something EP Dan Goor promised they would do if the right opportunity presented itself — it’s not even the primary focus; the episode’s main plot revolves around a potential murder, after a therapist, Dr. William Tate calls in to say one of his patients, Susan Buckley has gone missing, and he’s worried her husband killed her after he received a worrying call from him.

Susan’s husband, James, mentioned doing something horrible to his wife in a park so that’s where Jake and Charles head, with Dr. Tate in tow. Jake’s hostility towards therapists is on display right from the start, as he compares the doctor to Hannibal and reacts angrily towards Dr. Tate’s mild questions. To Jake’s relief, Charles finds a body in the bushes, putting his conversation with the therapist on hold.

Now that they’ve found the victim, it’s time to track down her suspected killer. The search takes them to the couple’s apartment, which is unlocked, empty, and devoid of anything suspicious except for strange contemporary artwork featuring Jesus. Jake becomes suspicious of Dr. Tate when he’s able to immediately point out the location of a bathroom in an apartment he’s supposedly never been in before (in New York, the location of the bathroom is never obvious) but Charles just thinks Jake is letting his bias towards therapists get in the way of his detective instincts.

(Personally, I was fully on Jake’s side; I was suspicious of Dr. Tate ever since Jake mentioned that the only DNA found at the scene of the crime was of the three of them who discovered the body.)

After promising Charles he won’t go behind his back and break into the therapist’s office Jake...does exactly that. His misconduct (did he even stop to get a warrant?) pays off when he finds a notebook hidden in a filing cabinet filled with information about the dead woman and her currently missing husband.

Dr. Tate returns to the office as Jake is trying to sneak out and he finds himself taking refuge in a different therapist’s office to avoid being seen. Once there, he ends up pretending to be a man with multiple personality disorder (or dissociative identity disorder, as it’s more properly known) while he waits for Dr. Tate to leave.

This was the only part of the episode I felt weird about; while I feel like this bit was a chance to showcase Andy Samberg’s notoriously bad skill at accents, it came across as...disrespectful towards an actual mental illness, when this show usually has such nuance navigating around these topics. Since I don’t know much about dissociative identity disorder I’ll leave it at that but I feel like it could have been handled better.

Jake finally makes it back to his car, where he’s surprised by Dr. Tate, who’s been hiding in his backseat with a gun. The therapist admits to not only killing Susan but her husband as well, along with another couple several years back; in order to stall him, Jake ends up opening up about his problems with therapy: he’d gone to family counselling with his parents when he was a kid because he was acting up in class, but the sessions only brought attention to his parents’ problems, which eventually led to their divorce.

Jake blaming himself for his dad leaving makes a ton of sense not just in the context of this episode but in the context of the entire series, making it one of those well-earned reveals that’s less of a surprise to the audience than it is to Jake himself. I’m glad he had a breakthrough, and if he does choose to go forward with therapy sessions in the future I hope that’s something the show continues to address.

Before Dr. Tate can kill Jake, Charles shows up — Jake had managed to text him his location without looking at his phone. Kind of. (Actually he texted Amy a string of random characters, who forwarded the message onto Charles, who used “find my phone” to figure out Jake’s location.) So Jake got a free therapy session from a murderer who they have now successfully apprehended, win-win!

Back at the precinct, Captain Holt finds out the rest of the squad has already met Jocelyn, Rosa’s girlfriend — albeit unintentionally — and invites Rosa to bring her to dinner with him and Kevin on the weekend.

Can we talk for a moment about how far the relationship between these two has come? Going all the way back to Season 2 when Kevin wanted to have Rosa and her then-boyfriend, Marcus, over for dinner and Holt and Rosa conspired to stop their lives from becoming too entangled. Since then, the two have become a lot closer: Holt was one of the first people Rosa allowed herself to become vulnerable with when she went to him for advice during her breakup with Marcus; he convinced Rosa of her place within the Nine-Nine family when she tried to run away to Argentina; and he provides her with support, love, and understanding as the only other (out) LGBTQ+ cop in the precinct.

Rosa turns down Captain Holt’s request to have her and Jocelyn over for dinner, but not because she’s worried such an event will bring them uncomfortably close, as she was in Season 2. Now it’s because they are close, and her captain’s opinion matters so much that she’s afraid he won’t like her new girlfriend.

Rosa’s so worried about this that she goes to lengths to introduce Captain Holt to an actress she hired to play Jocelyn, so that she can gauge his reaction; when Holt realizes what’s going on, he’s understandably upset. While he thinks the reason Rosa won’t introduce him to Jocelyn is because she’s not as close to him as she is to the rest of the squad, it’s the opposite that’s actually true.

Captain Holt — and the audience — get a chance to meet Jocelyn for real, when she appears in the precinct break room and introduces herself to Holt through a bad joke that instantly endeared me to her. I don’t know if Jocelyn is Rosa’s forever-girl, but I hope she sticks around for a while.

Footnotes:

Two episodes in a row now that Charles has mentioned doing couples activities with his dad. I realize his dad is going through a breakup, but what happened to Genevieve?! I miss her.

“It’s just that sometimes you can be...judgemental.” “What a stupid thing to say.” Never change, Captain Holt.

Holt’s conversation with Kevin about rice is adorable, when can Marc Evan Jackson guest star on the show again?

“Mentally ill people are much more likely to be the victims than the perpetrators” was a really nice line for them to just throw in there.

Charles’ tendency to be unconsciously sexual is one of my favourite things about him, please don’t take that away.

It was nice to get confirmation that Scully and Cindy Shatz are still going strong.

The brief kiss between Rosa and Jocelyn was the first kiss between a same-sex couple on this show (still waiting on Holt and Kevin); not only that, but it was a kiss between two LGBTQ+ characters portrayed by two LGBTQ+ actresses, which I think is pretty cool.

Brooklyn Nine-Nine airs Thursdays at 9/8c on NBC.

Sam’s episode rating: 🐝🐝🐝🐝

[distant-rose-archive-blog]

In the Pursuit of Smoke Rings

Note: I tried to get this out yesterday but honestly, this story got away from me. I wanted to keep it in the 4k spectrum and now it’s the 7k. In other words, I have no self control. @magajv​ asked me on AO3 if I could write Wes getting up to some naughty business like teenage drinking or smoking, and I have to say that I already had this idea in the bag, but this is kinda fulfilling what she was asking as I marked it as a semi-request. So this fic is mainly focused around 15 year old Wes, 16-17 year old Gideon and 16-17 year old Robin/Bobbi smoking in the Jones backyard and getting caught because they’re idiot children. Please keep in mind that I’m not a habit smoker. I’ve smoked a few times in my life, but it’s not something I do a lot. I did a lot of research on smoking and producing smoke rings, but I’m not sure how well I realistically I portrayed it in this installment. This entire installment is literally just one big snark fest. Thank you @welllpthisishappening for reading huge chunks of this and for dealing with my writing on a near daily basis. You don’t deserve that torture. Summary: Ever since they were little, Captain Hook’s son has been goading the Wicked Witch’s daughter into doing stupid and insane things. This might be the dumbest one of all. Rating: T Word Count: 7,500+

There were times when Robin “Bobbi” Mills was pretty certain that Westley “Wes” Jones was Satan. He had a way of getting in her head and making her do things that she wouldn’t do normally. Ever since he sat down next to her in Granny’s diner when she was eight and he was six, he had found ways to get under her skin. All it took was a whisper here and a goading tease there, and suddenly Bobbi was involved in some ridiculous scheme to where the school toilets exploded or everyone in town had blue teeth. What had all started with conspiring to make Neal Nolan faceplant into his mashed potatoes had led to her sitting in the Jones’ backyard on a hot summer day with Gideon Gold and the Devil himself who held a lit cigarette in hand.

“Care for a smoke?” he asked her casually, leaning forward to offer it to her. His blue eyes were dancing with mischief.

“Are you serious right now?”

Bobbi arched a thin eyebrow at him, her own blue eyes flittering between his face and the cigarette. She brushed her long auburn hair behind her shoulder, giving him an unimpressed look.

“As the grave,” he replied with a tiny smirk and a waggle of his eyebrows that made her want to smack him.

“Nice phrasing, considering you’re holding a cancer stick,” she shot back with a snort, leaning backwards in her lawn chair and assuming a more languid pose as if to suggest that she could care less about anything in the moment.

Bobbi was never one to give into Wes’s schemes without a fight. They always seemed to be caught in a never-ending verbal tennis match, constantly volleying sarcastic remarks and snips without a victor in sight. Gideon often acted as a referee between them, cutting in whenever they dug a little deeper than they should have and emotions started showing through the cracks of their uncaring facades. They knew how to needle each other a little too well, but then again, they had been friends since they could walk.

Wes responded to her comment with a snort of his own, giving her look that seemed to suggest he was disappointed in her. She hated the fact that the look could actually get to her and made her insides sink a little bit. It made her no better than the court of girls that seemed to hang around him and implore for his approval. The blue-eyed devil was a charismatic son of a bitch after all.

“Cancer stick? Please!” He made a motion with his hand as if to dismiss her claims. “We all die someday, Bobs. Considering we live in the insanity that is Storybrooke, I doubt it would be from cancer. More likely a spell gone wrong or falling on some maniac’s sword.”

“While I don’t think you’re wrong, I’m not sure Aunt Genie would appreciate me coming by the house smelling of smoke.”

Bobbi’s aunt, Regina Mills, had a nose like a bloodhound. Whenever Bobbi would come back from riding her horse, she would make an audibly sniff and her face would curl into an expression of disgust before demanding that Bobbi go take a shower. She had no doubt in her mind that her aunt would pick up on the smell of tobacco and smoke that would no doubt cling to her summer dress.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Wes asked, eyes finding hers and keeping her gaze. He was goading her again and she didn’t appreciate it.

“Apparently hiding with your common sense.”

Gideon, who had been a silent spectator up until this point, chuckled. He was clearly amused with the spar that was happening in front of him. He leaned back in his chair as well, a look of positive delight on his face.

“That was a good one, Robin,” he commended her.

Bobbi scowled at him despite the compliment. She hated being called Robin. She only felt comfortable with her mother and aunt calling her that. There was nothing more awkward than the fact that she bore the name of the dead father she never met. She always found something morbid about it, but considering her mother and aunt, it wasn’t necessarily surprising. However, Gideon Gold gave zero fucks if you preferred to be called something; he always called everyone by their first given name. She swore he took pleasure in pissing people off in the subtlest of ways.

“She’s got you there, Westley,” Gideon said, turning to Wes and effectively ignoring Bobbi’s glare. “She won that round.”

“She won a battle, not the war,” Wes replied coolly, rolling his shoulders. Despite his attempt to look nonchalant, Bobbi could see his competitive spirit rising just beneath the fragile surface. “Seriously though, Gid, who’s side are you on here?”

“No one’s,” Gideon scoffed. “I’m bloody Switzerland. I’m too smart to get between the two of you and your ridiculous competition. I would get eviscerated in seconds.”

As if on cue, Bobbi and Wes both gave Gideon the same arched eyebrow.

“Translation from Gideon speak: ‘Wes is my best friend and I want to be there for my ‘bro’ but Bobbi Mills wrecks him every time and I don’t want to support the losing side and get wrecked myself’,” Bobbi said, flashing Wes a smirk.

Both of Wes’s eyebrows rose at her proclamation and he leaned forward, wagging his finger at her.

“You need a new Gideon speak translator because that’s definitely not what he said,” Wes retored with a small snort. “First, Gideon is a civilized motherfucker and would never call us by preferred names. You would be Robin and I would be Westley. That was the first mistake. The second was that you don’t wreck every time. That was a blatant lie right there, Robin Cora Mills. It’s like forty percent at most. However, all of this nonsense is beside the point because I am fluent in Bobbi Mills speak and could possibly be considered a Bobbi Mills behaviorist. And you, my darling sweet ginger without a soul, are avoiding the issue. You’re being a chicken. One smoke, love. It will give you something to add to your ‘Never Have I Ever’ list.”

There was a lot Bobbi personally found wrong with his little speech, but at the same time, he was right. She was avoiding the issue and knowing Wes Jones as well as she did, she knew that he wasn’t going to let up. He was like a dog with a bone; never knowing when to quit.

“I don’t have a ‘Never Have I Ever’ list,” she replied after a moment, giving him an unimpressed look.

“Yeah because you’ve never done anything fun in your entire life. Always so practical. Unleash your wild side, Bobs.”

Wes was giving her that look again – that mischievous one that made his blue eyes dance. She half-hated, half-adored that look because it made her heart race and adrenaline kick through her veins. That look was equally her damnation as it was a reminder that she was alive. She wondered how often people were able to resist him when he looked at them with that expression.

“I unleash my wild side all the time, you blue-eyed devil,” she scoffed. “You’re a horrible influence.”

The truth was that Wes Jones was her wild side. Whenever she was around him, she went off the hinges. She couldn’t tell him that though. It would feed that overgrown ego of his and he would be positively insufferable.

“I think I’m a wonderful influence,” he protested, half-heartedly offended. “Right, Gid?”

Wes gave Gideon a friendly pat on the thigh, which Gideon responded to with a cocked eyebrow.

“Absolutely not,” Gideon replied with some amusement in his voice. “Like eighty percent of the time when Robin and I get in trouble, it’s because of some insanity you started.”

Wes didn’t refute the claim nor did he look remotely apologetic.

“But you have fun, right?”

This time Gideon’s eyebrow went so high that it nearly touched his hairline.

“If detention qualifies as fun, then yes, Westley,” Gideon replied in the most patient tone he could muster.

“Awesome, so you agreed then,” Wes smirked.

Bobbi and Gideon shared a long look for a moment. Gideon pulled away first, throwing both hands up in the air as if he was surrendering and wiping his hands of the situation while Bobbi turned to Wes, who was looking particularly pleased with himself as he rocked back in his chair

“I’m now officially convinced you’re Satan,” she told him, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Wes rolled his eyes, scoffing a bit. It was far from the first time she had ever said this to him.

“You’ve been convinced I’m Satan since we were kids,” he replied casually, as if she had commented on the weather rather than accuse him of being the Devil. “I mean I’m devilishly handsome, but the actual devil? Not sold there, Bobs. Still prefer the term ‘Maverick.’”

“Only because you’re obsessed with Top Gun,” Gideon laughed. “You’ve wanted to be call ‘Maverick’ since we were ten. I don’t think that ridiculous Kenny Loggins song has ever left my brain. They play it at least six different times in that movie. It’s absurd.”

“Danger Zone is amazing song and I won’t hear a word against it,” Wes shot back. “Besides, you’re my co-pilot, Gid. I won’t let you down, Goose.”

“Oh great! So, I’m the dead one!” Gideon scoffed in mock offense.

“You can prefer whatever you want, but I’m still going to call you the Devil,” Bobbi said, breaking the Top Gun talk once and for all.

Gideon and Wes had a habit of sharing personal inside jokes in front of her and pretending she knew what they meant. Nothing irritated her more than them going off about some ridiculously cheesy movie that they watched during their near weekly sleepovers. It made her feel like an outsider amongst her own best friends.

“Fair enough,” Wes replied, before handing off the cigarette to Gideon. “She’s wimping out me. I hope you don’t too.”

The curious thing about Wes Jones was as much as he didn’t seem to enjoy being around people was that he was impossibly good at reading them and knowing when to push. Though, he was younger than Gideon and Bobbi by a good two years, he seemed to always take charge and test their limits. Just as he knew how to goad Bobbi, he knew how to make Gideon do what he wanted. It was a frightening thing that Bobbi was increasingly becoming more and more aware of.

Gideon took the cigarette without complaint, but he did give it a small twirl between his fingers and look at it with a dubious expression.

“I’m not sure this is one of your brighter suggestions, Westley,” he said after a moment.

“Never said it was,” Wes said with a casual shrug. “Sometimes fucking up and making mistakes makes life more interesting. Sure, this is a bit on the naughty side, but it’s an experience.”

Gideon seemed to weigh Wes’s words for a moment before bringing the cigarette to his lips and taking a long drag. Immediately his eyes watered a bit and he began having a coughing fit.

“Yeah, a shit experience,” Gideon stated between coughs, bringing a hand to his throat.

Wes seemed amused as he took the cigarette back from Gideon.

“But an experience nonetheless, you bloody amateur,” Wes shot back, mocking the slight accent that seemed to twinge Gideon’s speech on occasion.

Gideon rolled his eyes at the ribbing.

“Forgive me if I don’t smoke two packs a day,” he replied sarcastically.

“Don’t listen to him, Gid,” Bobbi said, narrowing her eyes at Wes. “He’s just trying to make himself look cooler.”

Wes gave her an indulgent look, rolling the cigarette between his fingers expertly. He looked her straight in the eyes as he brought it so that it teased the seam of his lips.

“I don’t have to try,” he said rather arrogantly as he took a drag.

Bobbi watched as his thin lips formed an ‘o’ shape. He gave her a wink before he moved his jaw in a stiff upward motion and exhaled the smoke. Three distinct and perfectly shaped smoke rings left his mouth and lazily floated upwards in the air before disappearing. Bobbi watched them in fascination and begrudgingly admitted to herself that it looked pretty cool when he did that.

“Alright, asshole,” she turned to him, her voice tinged with both annoyance and curiosity. “How long have you been hiding the fact you’re a smoker?”

“I haven’t been hiding it at all,” Wes responded in a casual tone that drove her up the wall. “It’s rather recent that I picked up the habit.”

“Bullshit,” she stated bluntly. She did nothing to hide her annoyance with him. “I refuse to believe that you did that on the first try. I know you. You probably spent hours practicing that just so you could show off!”

Wes scoffed as if he were offended by the mere suggestion that he was lying.

“I didn’t practice for hours!” he said with a shake of his head. “I may have looked at a few YouTube videos, but it’s a lot easier than you would expect.”

Apparently, Gideon didn’t seem to be buying this either because he snorted and gave Wes another unimpressed look.

“You’re such a liar,” Gideon said with a roll of his eyes. “I’m with Robin with this, but I don’t think it took hours. It probably took days. You’re rather unproductive when you get frustrated and I have no doubt you got impatient when you’re trying out this bullshit technique.”

“No, really. It’s so easy that even Bobs could do it on the first try.”

And there it was. The gauntlet was being thrown at her feet. All three of them knew it and they all knew how she would react to it. Bobbi Mills did not back down from a challenge, especially not from Wes Jones. Some saying about pride coming before the fall floated in the back of her head, but she ignored it.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” she said begrudgingly, glaring at Wes. “Just to call you on your bullshit. Hand over the cancer stick.”

Wes laughed, his head falling back against the headrest of his chair with the force of it. Bobbi’s nails dug into the flesh of her palms to keep from slapping him. It would only delight him more if she physically assaulted him.

“The things you do in the name of proving me wrong,” he said, shaking his head and smirking at her.

“Someone needs to,” Bobbi retorted, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You’re unbearably smug all the time and would probably fall over if your head was any bigger.”

The second she said it she immediately regretted because the moment he digested her words his eyes popped for a fraction before his gaze became wicked.

“But you love my big head,” he chuckled, giving her a wink.

Bobbi stuck out her tongue, which made his smirk even wider. In response, he licked his lips in a very obscene way that made both Bobbi and Gideon shift uncomfortably in their seats. Gideon made a slight cough, wrinkling his nose.

“No need to be vulgar,” Gideon lightly reprimanded.

Bobbi snorted.

“Vulgar is his middle name,” she retorted before making an impatient gesture with her hand towards the cigarette. “Now, show me how to use this wretched thing.”

“I love when I have to do everything for you,” Wes responded in a light tone.

He made no move to give her the cigarette however. He was still looking to play a bit, which Bobbi couldn’t find in herself to appreciate at the moment. She rolled her eyes.

“I love when you shut up,” she responded, once more making a grabbing motion. “Give me the stupid cigarette, Westley Graham. Now.”

“I think you’re the one lying now,” Wes replied, smirking once again but finally handing over the cigarette. “You love it when I talk.”

“Just tell me what to do, smart ass.” She was beginning to lose her patience.

“Well, I thought it was quite obvious there. You inhale. Go a bit slow. Just like you’re taking a breath.”

Bobbi stared at the cigarette in her hands for a moment before looking up at Wes who gave her an encouraging nod. Gideon’s face was more on the impassive side. It held no judgment but it doesn’t necessarily hold any support either. She wondered what he was thinking.

“Well, go on. It’s not a snake, it isn’t going to bit you,” Wes said lightly. “Unless you’re afraid of a little smoke.”

Bobbi’s jaw clenched for a moment and she bought it up to her lips, inhaling a bit faster and deeper than she meant to. Immediately, a foul acrid taste hit her tongue and the smoke seemed to be pushing into her lungs too much too fast. She coughed a bit, not unlike Gideon had. Wes placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and behind his amusement, she could see he actually felt some concern.

“Fuck,” she croaked, looking at Wes in disbelief. “You enjoy this?”

“Are you even surprised?” Gideon spoke, arching an eyebrow. “He’s not the best authority on anything. I mean he runs eight miles and gets arrested for fun.”

Wes, who had been watching Bobbi warily for a moment, turned to scowl at Gideon.

“And you read War and Peace in both the original Russian and French for fun. I’m not certain you get to be the authority on what should be fun and what shouldn’t be either,” he said with a roll of his eyes before turning back to Bobbi, his expression gentling a bit. “It’s more enjoyable after a few hits. That’s when the nicotine hits and you get a nice kinda buzz feeling.”

“This might be the worst idea you’ve ever had,” she said, shaking her head.

“I thought me stealing Grandpa David’s truck and driving it into the ditch was the worst idea I’ve ever had,” Wes said lightly.

He was trying to get her to smile. That was the only explanation she could come up with for him bringing up the truck incident. He hated talking about it. It wasn’t necessarily his finest hour and it had been the talk of the town for months afterwards. Everyone seemed to enjoy the fact that Emma Swan’s wayward and rebellious son had stolen his grandfather’s truck and had driven it into the small ravine located not too far from the Charming Farm. His ears had been red for a solid five months afterwards.

“Nope, this is the worst,” Bobbi asserted before giving him a small smirk. “At least with the truck thing I got a video of you being a jack ass out of it.”

“That was a good video. It was even better with the explosion animation you added in,” Gideon laughed heartily, remembering the video as well.

The modifications had been made in pure boredom on a rainy day when Bobbi had too much time on her hands. She hadn’t done much to the video, just added the Speed Racer theme song and a poorly done animation of an explosion at the end when the truck had made contact with the bottom of the ditch. Bobbi hadn’t been that impressed with her improvements but the majority of her peers, Gideon included, seemed to think they were genius. Wes hadn’t necessarily appreciated them. He never made a comment about the video, but Bobbi knew him well enough to know that he had not been pleased.

“I’m glad you both can laugh about an incident that broke my arm and got me grounded for the whole summer,” Wes grumbled.

“Well, what else are we going to laugh at? Your jokes aren’t nearly as funny,” Bobbi snickered because she couldn’t help herself. It was rare that Wes allowed himself to be the butt of anything. She wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to needle him a little bit.

“Do you want to learn how to make the ring or not, Bobs?” Wes asked with a small sulky look, obviously trying to change the subject.

“Oh my god, are you pouting?” Bobbi asked with a small laugh.

“He is!” Gideon confirmed, pointing at him and chuckling alongside her. It seemed Gideon didn’t want to waste this opportunity as well. It felt good to get the upper hand on Wes. “Someone tell the Mirror! Westley Graham Jones is pouting!”

“More like Westley Graham Jones needs new friends,” Wes replied gruffly.

“Did he just refer to himself in the third person?” Bobbi smirked, turning to Gideon. She wasn’t ready to let this up.

“He likes to think he’s Mr. T,” Gideon replied slyly.

Bobbi snorted at that one.

“Mr. T? For real? His pale blonde ass isn’t anything like Mr. T. He’s more like a less drugged out Macaulay Culkin, especially with that hair,” Bobbi stated airily, gesturing to Wes’s outrageously long blonde hair, which he had refused to let anyone cut ever since his mother had accidentally shaved it all off in the fifth grade. He had looked like a cancer patient for weeks.

Wes’s jaw dropped at that one and he looked caught between shock and outrage.

“Okay, now I’m offended,” he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest and glaring at them. 

Bobbi watched as his fist tightened in the crook of his elbow, but she couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad. Wes was constantly pushing. It was only fair that he got pushed back.

“Poor baby boo!” Bobbi replied, placing her hand over her chest in mock sympathy. “My heart positively weeps for you.”

“There is something very satisfying about knowing that you can’t take what you dish, Westley,” Gideon stated in a calm measured tone that was betrayed by the twinkling in his brown eyes. He was enjoying this just as much as Bobbi was.

She watched as Wes’s jaw worked for a moment. He looked like he really wanted to say something, but he seemed to rethink that course of action because he let go of all the tension that had been steadily growing in his shoulders and merely rolled his eyes at them.

“Yeah, yeah,” he scoffed before his eyes met Bobbi’s again. “Let’s get back to the program, Miss Mills.”

This time it was Bobbi who rolled her eyes.

“Okay, back to our featured presentation of me choking on smoke. Fun.”

“For me? Yes,” Wes replied, not even remotely apologetic. “Just relax, Bobs. Inhale deeply but this time before you exhale, just try to hold it a bit okay? See if you can do that. And if you can, form your mouth into an ‘o’ shape and just push your jaw and your tongue repeatedly.”

Bobbi brought the cigarette back up to her lips and let it rest between her lips.

“You make it sound easy,” she said with a slight shake of her head.

“Because it is.”

“Shall I get the camera ready for when she fails?” Gideon asked in a teasing tone.

Bobbi glared at Gideon half-heartedly, raising her hand and flipping him the bird. Gideon merely chuckled, unfazed by her response. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last time that Bobbi Mills would give Gideon Gold the finger. It was practically customary at this point.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, Gold!” she admonished him, but there was no real heat behind her words.

“I thought I made it very clear that I’m on no one’s side,” he replied, trying to make himself more comfortable in his chair.

Instead of replying, Bobbi focused her energy on the cigarette between her lips. She inhaled slowly this time. The feeling of smoke entering her throat felt funny but she didn’t feel like she was about to choke as she did last time. She did her best to hold it in her mouth like Wes instructed. It felt awkward as she did her best to form an ‘o’ with her lips while trying to keep it all from coming out.

“That a girl,” Wes said, nodding in approval.

But just as he was nodding and she moved to try and form the circles, she coughed a bit. All the smoke expelled from her mouth and she sighed in frustration.

“I hate you,” she groaned, running her fingers through her hair.

“You say that so often, I don’t think you know what it means,” Wes replied with a small laugh.

Bobbi glared while Gideon bit his lip to keep from snickering. Wes had an annoying habit of quoting the Princess Bride at her, insisting that it was “his movie” since his mother had named him after the Dread Pirate Roberts. Growing up, he had often teased her by calling her “Robin Wright” or worse, “his Buttercup.” As far as Bobbi was concerned, she wasn’t Wes Jones’s anything, let alone his Princess Buttercup.

“If you start a Princess Bride quoting tirade, I will end you,” she hissed.

“As you wish,” he replied with a wink and a mock bow. She leaned forward and gave him a swift kick in the leg, which caused him to laugh.

“It’s like you want him to press your buttons,” Gideon commented, shaking his head and laughing alongside Wes.

“Shut up,” she replied through gritted teeth. She looked at the cigarette and sighed. “And this is stupid.”

“You’re welcome to back out if you need to, Princess,” Wes shrugged casually as if he hadn’t spent the last hour goading her into this stupid smoke ring nonsense.

“You would never let me hear the end of it,” she scoffed, giving him a dirty look.

“You’re right,” Wes agreed steadily, exchanging a look with Gideon. “I wouldn’t.”

Bobbi gave Wes another long look before taking another drag. It went down smoother than the last one. Once more, she formed an ‘o’ with her mouth and looked to Wes for confirmation. He gave her a small smile and a nod of approval. If she wasn’t so focused on doing this right, she probably would have smiled back at him.

“Alright, now push your tongue forward and your jaw too. The jaw thing helps form them better and makes them last longer. Just push forward like you’re pushing something out, which you kinda are,” Wes instructed, demonstrating how to move her jaw.

Bobbi wasn’t sure if she was doing the tongue thing right, but she knew she at least had get the jaw thing down. She followed Wes’s instructions to the best of her ability. Three weak rings floating from her mouth. She watched them with a big grin on her face. Gideon began to clap delicately.

“It only took a few tries, but you did it. Congrats,” he said gently with a small smile. “And you proved that Wes was full of shit.”

“What do you mean I was full of shit?” Wes exclaimed, slightly outraged. “She got it right!”

“You said she would get it on the first try,” Gideon reminded him in a patient tone that Bobbi could tell was pissing Wes off. “She didn’t get it on the first try. It was the third one. Therefore, you, Westley Jones, are full of shit.”

“Always a stickler for the fine print,” Wes muttered, looking like he wanted to complain some more.

Gideon looked at him in disbelief.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Bobbi removed the cigarette from her mouth and pushed herself back in her chair a bit, bracing herself for another rendition of the Gold versus Jones war, junior edition to break out in front of her. Gideon and Wes constantly sassed each other, but she could tell a nerve had been hit this time with Wes’s not so subtle reference to Gideon’s father.

However, the verbal war never came. Shit went sideways, but not in the way that Bobbi had expected.

“Well, well, well…. what do we have here?”

The three of them froze as Regina Mills walked into the Jones’ backyard, a stack of ancient tomes resting on her hip. She didn’t look impressed in the slightest to see them, in fact she looked downright frosty. It was then Bobbi realized she had a cigarette still burning between her fingers and her blood nearly ran cold at the realization. She immediately dropped it and crushed it with the bottom of her Coach sandals.

Only Wes had the spine to move and meet Regina’s gaze. He gave her a sliver of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, straightening his shoulders as if preparing himself for some sort of battle. Bobbi didn’t know why he even bothered. He had no chance of winning against her aunt.

“Hey Regina…”

“Hello Westley,” she drawled, eyes flickering towards the cigarette on the ground.

“Aunt Genie, I”-“No need to make excuses, Robin, I have eyes,” Regina interrupted Bobbi, narrowing her eyes as she approached them with the calm, collected stride of a predator cornering her prey. “Though I can’t imagine why you thought this was a good idea…I thought you had better sense than this. I thought after all of my teachings you would know better, but obviously I need to double my efforts. I didn’t expect this of you.”

Bobbi fought the urge to curl up into a ball in her seat, but she didn’t. She needed to stay strong. The only thing that could make this situation worse was if Regina knew how panicked she was on the inside. She would needle away at it like no one’s business.

Regina was far from over with her speech. Bobbi braced for the worse.

“Him, however,” she gestured to Gideon, who stiffened under the attention. “I expected this since he blindly follows Westley into whatever harebrained scheme he plots in his dire need to make Mommy and Daddy notice him, you see, because Westley, despite coming from a loving and caring family, thinks Mommy and Daddy don’t pay enough attention to him since he has a top selling novelist and an all-American boy scout for older brothers, America’s Next Top Model for a sister and the world’s cutest cabbage patch kid for younger brother. Life sucks for him so he feels the need to blacken his lungs and contract cancer so he can wither away and everyone will wish they paid more attention to poor, poor Westley.”

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?” Wes asked, staring at her like he had never truly seen her before.

“No. I’m dumbass-analyzing you. You’re not mentally ill. Just stupid,” Regina replied with a snort.

“Am I right in assuming we are now royally screwed?” Gideon asked tentatively.

Regina smiled and it wasn’t a kind one. In fact, it was a smile that Bobbi could only categorize as the epitome of evil. Bobbi was more than aware that people used to refer to her aunt as the Evil Queen, but she never quite understood why until that moment. Regina had just verbally decimated them like it was no one’s business. Wes, who always seemed to have a comeback for everything, was at loss for words.

“That would be a very logical assumption and yes, Gideon, you’re royally screwed,” Regina replied with a humorless chuckle. “If you think I’m not telling your mothers about this, then you have another thing coming. There’s nothing I love more than reminding both of them that they shouldn’t have procreated.”

Wes blinked rapidly for a moment as if someone had hit him over the head with a club. He turned to Bobbi, eyebrows furrowed.

“And you seriously think I’m Satan?” he asked, disbelief coloring his tone.

“You are,” Bobbi replied, standing firmly behind her decision. “Regina is just the vengeful good who smites us all when we get tempted by you.”

“How biblical of you,” Wes said dryly.

“You are very lucky that I’m not your mother, Westley Graham Jones,” Regina stated, dropping the books on the deck table and crossing her arms in front of her chest. “The fact I even just said that makes me want to violently vomit, but if I was your mother, your ass would be grass because I’ve already thought of at least a hundred different ways to teach you a lesson.”

“Lucky me,” Wes replied sarcastically, looking like he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Bobbi wanted to smack him for it. He didn’t seem to get that Regina had his balls in a proverbial vice.

Gideon, who had turned as white as sheet and had clammed up when Regina had made it clear that she was going to tell his mother what had transpired, licked his lips for moment before he spoke.

“I hope Mom doesn’t toss a dictionary at my head this time…” he murmured softly.

“Face it, Gid,” Wes sighed, swinging an arm over Gideon’s shoulders. Wes wasn’t nearly as tall as his older brother Harrison, but he was taller than both Gideon and Bobbi, which made him a bit insufferable at times. “It’s going to a dictionary, a thesaurus, an encyclopedia and a cook book. But that will be nothing compared what your mom would probably do to me…”

“This is true,” Gideon said with a weak smile. “She did chase you around the library last time.”

Bobbi frowned, trying to recall the incident in question but she came up short. She had no idea what they were talking about.

“I don’t remember that at all,” she said slowly, focusing on the two of them because she couldn’t deal with Regina’s reproachful and judgmental gaze staring her down and waiting for her to crumble under the pressure.

“You weren’t there,” Gideon said carefully, looking as if he was weighing his words.

A strange mixture of curiosity and betrayal seemed to be brewing in the pit of Bobbi’s stomach as she regarded her two closest friends, who seemed to be shifting in their seats and looking anywhere but at her.

“What were you guys doing in the library?” she asked finally after an awkward moment of silence.

“Nothing!” Both Wes and Gideon exclaimed in unison, their cheeks bright red and their expressions nervous. Even the tips of Wes’s ears were scarlet. Bobbi wanted to press the issue but wasn’t sure how to go about it in front of Regina.

It seemed their conversation was doing nothing to assauge Regina’s mood because she huffed impatiently and began riffling through her things for her phone.

“I don’t have time for amateur hour,” she told them with a look of annoyance. “I’m calling Emma. She can deal with you.”

“If you’re in such a hurry why the hell did you bother coming by our house?” Wes asked with an arched eyebrow.

Regina gave him a dirty look and lifted the books off the table for them to see. They looked incredibly old and Bobbi knew without a doubt that they were spell books from her aunt’s private collection. Bobbi had seen them many times in Regina’s vault, often in her glass cabinet under lock and key and a few spells to boot.

“I was dropping these off for your mother,” Regina explained coolly. “Though I doubt she would have any more success with them than you. Your entire family has so much potential, but you’re all woefully dismal with magic.”

“That was half a compliment there, Regina,” Wes replied with a waning smile. “You’re losing your touch.”

Both Gideon and Bobbi groaned. Wes really didn’t know when to shut up.

Regina seemed more amused than anything however. She quirked her eyebrow at Wes as she finally pulled out her phone.

“Please,” she said with a small snort. “You need a little kindness for what’s about to happen. I wish I could say it was a pleasure knowing you, but you’ve been a constant pain in my side since you were conceived.”

“It’s a talent,” Wes replied dryly.

“Can you not keep antagonizing the woman who is about to tell your mother what we’ve been up to? That would be a more intelligent course of action,” Gideon exclaimed in exasperation, racking both hands through his hair.

“Don’t bother,” Bobbi muttered under her breath. “He can’t help himself.”

Regina gave them another arched look before she tapped on the screen of her phone a few times before bringing it up to her ear. As she waited for Emma to pick up on the other line, she gave them all a cold smirk.

“Hello Emma..” she greeted, her eyes cutting to Wes, who stiffened when he realized Regina was now on the phone with his mother. “I was just dropping off the books that you requested when I discovered that your spawn was up to no good again…Westley, of course…”

Wes’s face went entirely impassive as if he was emotionally bracing himself for the end of the world. It seemed like every single muscle in his body had gone stiff. Bobbi winced just looking at him.

“Well, he, Gideon and Robin thought it was an excellent idea to smoke in your backyard,” Regina stated finally. There was a moment of silence before Emma exploded on the other end of the line. Bobbi couldn’t hear what she was saying, but it was loud enough that Regina held the phone away from her ear a bit, flinching at the volume level. “I would like to remind you, Emma, that I didn’t adopt any of your other children so you should stop expecting me to raise them for you…”

At that statement both Gideon and Wes stared a look and though Wes was still keeping up his stoic façade, he mouthed ‘oh fuck’ at the other boy. Bobbi fought the urge to give Wes an awkward pat on the shoulder.  

Regina wasn’t paying attention however. She was still on the phone with Emma.

“Well, you should have thought about that before you decided to procreate with a one-handed alcoholic who wears eyeliner,” Regina replied sardonically to whatever Emma was saying on the phone. “Yes, fine, I will wait with them while you get back just this once, but please hurry because I have actual things to do aside from babysitting your wayward spawn and his band of misfits.”

“You realize that your niece is a part of that ‘band of misfits’ as you so adeptly put it?” Wes asked Regina with an arch of his eyebrow when she finally finished her phone call with his mother.

Regina smiled almost pleasantly in response.

“Would you like a shovel to help with that hole you keep digging?” she asked lightly.

“For the love of god, Westley, please shut up!” Gideon exclaimed, looking very stressed out at the moment. He looked five seconds away from singing a depressing Dido song and planning Wes’s funeral arrangements.

Bobbi placed a hand on Gideon’s knee in hopes of calming him.

“Don’t stress yourself over him. Let the train wreck be a train wreck.”

It didn’t take long for Emma Swan to arrive, green eyes blazing with fury and striding towards them with purpose. No wonder the Jones kids had a healthy fear of their mother. The only way Emma Swan could have been more intimidating in that moment was if she had arrived with a sword in hand. Bobbi had never really found the woman intimidating before but now she knew what the fuss was about. A hint of fear ran down her spine and she once again wanted to curl up and hide.

Not too far behind Emma Swan was her husband and Wes’s father Killian Jones as well as Gideon’s mother Belle Gold. Both looked equally pissed off. Killian had drawn himself to his full height and his eyes, which were near identical to his son’s, were narrowed into angry blue slits while Belle’s lips were pursed in disapproval, her hands balled at her sides.

Gideon near wilted at the sight of his mother while Wes’s eyes kept flickering between his mother and father as if calculating in his head which one of them was more pissed off at the moment. Bobbi didn’t have to weigh her scales. Her mother wouldn’t care. In fact, Bobbi was certain Zelena would be downright amused that her daughter had been caught smoking. Regina was a different story entirely. Her disapproval was practically palpable and Bobbi was certain that Regina would find a very creative fashion to punish her in.

“Ah shit,” Wes muttered softly under his breath. It came out so quietly that Bobbi nearly didn’t hear him.

“She called my mother,” Gideon whispered. “I’m fucked.”

“No, Gid, we’re fucked,” Wes corrected, giving him a phantom of a smile.

“It was a pleasure knowing both of you,” Gideon said quietly to the two of them.

“Yeah, well, same here, bud,” Wes whispered back. “I hope hell isn’t as hot as I think it is.”

“I hope so too,” Bobbi said lightly. “Because with your skin, you’ll be lobster bisque before you know it.”

“Not cool, Bobs, not cool,” Wes replied back in mock offense.

Emma wasted no time. She immediately went up to her son and grabbed the front of his t-shirt, practically pulling him out of his seat. Her face was practically purple with anger.

“Do you ever use your brain?!” Emma practically roared in his face.

Bobbi watched as fear and panic flickered through Wes’s blue eyes. Though he still looked relatively impassive, she was certain that he was ready to shit his pants.

“I feel like this is a trick question,” Wes replied faintly.

“I promised myself I would be a good parent, you know, the type that doesn’t hit their child, but you’re making me consider it. Seriously, kid, I’m five seconds away from killing you! I don’t understand how someone as smart and clever as you can be such an idiot!”

While Emma was dressing Wes down in the most epic of fashions, Belle also wasn’t wasting any time laying into Gideon. Though her son was now taller than she was, Belle had no issue grabbing her son by the ear and giving him a firm look.

“I don’t even know where to start with you, but you’re in big trouble, Gideon Maurice Gold,” she stated in a barely civil tone.

Gideon winced.

“Understandably. I’m sorry, Mom,” Gideon replied, looking somewhat pathetic under his mother’s angry gaze.

Bobbi’s eyes flickered toward Regina waiting for her to say something along the same lines as the other parents, but she just gave her the same unimpressed look. Regina had already given her a decent dress down, but Bobbi was certain there would be more to come. Bobbi bit her lip and banished all the ugly scenarios that her mind kept coming up with in regards to the punishments Regina would concoct. Instead, she chose to focus on Emma’s yelling at Wes.

“Let me guess? I’m grounded for two weeks with no video games, television or laptop?” Wes asked, trying to keep his voice even.

“Nice try,” Emma snorted, not at all impressed with his choice of punishment. “You’re really lowballing there. You’re grounded for a whole month at least and you’re on designated babysitting duty for both us and your grandparents.”

“And you’re on careening duty this weekend for the Jolly,” Killian stated, speaking up for the first time instead of standing imperiously behind his wife.

Bobbi had no idea what careening duty was or what it entailed but what she did know is that as much as Wes loved sailing, he hated ship duties and would often rant about how his father’s punishments generally involved grueling ship related duties, as if Killian Jones could not entirely leave the pirate captain behind. Wes’s last rant from a few weeks ago still echoed in Bobbi’s ears. “Do you know how filthy three-hundred-year old bilges are, Bobs? Pretty fucking filthy! The old man is sadistic!”

“In this heat?” Wes asked, aghast. “You have to be joking. I’m going to die.”

“Not at all,” Killian responded, not moved by his son’s argument. “Taking care of a ship is hard work and I couldn’t possibly get all the barnacles off the bottom by myself at my age. It will certainly keep you out of trouble.”

The old pirate captain’s eyes then met Belle’s.

“We could use some extra hands if you’re willing to let up your son for the weekend. A little hard work might do Gideon some good.”

“That actually sounds like a wonderful idea,” Belle said with a nod. “Gideon will definitely be available to help out this weekend. His schedule is about to become very clear.”

Both Wes and Gideon groaned in unison.

“You’re definitely going to be lobster bisque,” Gideon whispered to Wes.

“Look who is talking, Casper!” Wes shot back, grimacing.

Bobbi began praying to any deity that would listen that Regina could not offer her up for the same deal. She had no idea how to work a pirate ship and from how much the boys were complaining, it didn’t seem like a fun time. Regina could be cruel, but she wasn’t that cruel.

“I would offer Robin up as well, but she and I are going to have some quality time cleaning up the vault,” Regina said finally, revealing Bobbi’s fate.

Bobbi nearly blanched at her words. The back ends of Regina’s vault was dark, dusty and full of dangerous objects that could kill her in an instant. She suddenly regretted being so against ship duties.

“Yippee,” she muttered under her breath and once more, she cursed Wes Jones for getting her into another mess.

[thelittleredheadedmusician]

Jives and Java

For the final day of Cassiestephkara Week the prompt was Favorite Troupe. Now I couldn’t think of a favorite troupe besides the high school au and I wanted to keep that as a verse for me to play around with more later. As such this is a mesh of a coffee shop au, a meet cute, and an identity reveal. Can also be found here on ao3. Rated G; 1,723 words Cassiestephkara

Steph knew she had to find a summer job but she was hoping to avoid working as a barista. As usual, her luck didn’t quite hold up so she found herself wearing a baseball cap and apron, working a cappuccino machine for the summer. Tim had offered to get her a paid internship at WE but she was still averse to him doing and buying things for her. Though he insisted on coming to her for his coffee and tipping extra, but it was a small, family owned shop with quality brew and pastries so Steph didn’t mind him doing that.

One afternoon as she was wiping down tables the bell over the door jangled causing her to glance up. Tim waved at her as he walked in, trailed behind by two boys and a pair of blondes. Steph’s coworker motioned that she was to come take Tim and company’s order. She grabbed her towel and weaved her way between the tables to behind the counter.

“Hey there Timbo,” she said with a grin. “What can I do ya for?”

Tim smiled and searched his pockets for his wallet. “When do you go on break?”

“Whenever I want. Why?”

“I want you to meet my friends, you know, outside of uniform,” Tim gave her a conspiring wink. Flipping out one of his credit cards he just asked for his usual and whatever the others wanted. She tapped his extra-large black coffee and chocolate croissant into the system and wrote Timmy-boy onto a cup with a little bat, because she thought she was clever. He went off to find a table and the tall dark-haired boy came up to the counter.

“Welcome to Jives and Java! How can I help you? And don’t bother paying, Tim’s already got it covered,” Steph gave her most charming grin as he studied the menu.

“Hi, yeah, uh… I have no idea what I want,” he admitted with a slight grimace.

“Well, do you like sweet or bitter?” Steph asked brightly.

“I’ve got it Kon,” the blonde with curly hair laughed. “Whatever Tim got, give him the exact opposite.” The others all laughed and Steph smirked.

“Well, I normally do that too so I’d go with the cotton candy frappe,” Steph suggested.

The boy wrinkled his nose but the other girl smiled. “I’ll take one of those!”

Steph tapped in the order. “Can I have a name for the cup?”

“Kara, K-A-R-A,” The girl spelled as Steph scribbled it down. On a whim, she drew a heart after the girl’s name.

“Can I have a decaf macchiato with whole milk?” the other boy asked and Steph bobbed her head. “A medium?” Steph grabbed the proper cup and uncapped her sharpie once again, patiently waiting with the tip just above the paper. “Bart. As in Bartholomew. But just the first four letters,” he told her, rapid fire. She wrote it down and added a squiggly lightning bolt on the end. Placing the cup in line on top of the machine she turned back to the last boy, who was actually the first.

“Can I have a cinnamon apple tea? That’s for Conner with an E-R at the end. I know, lame,” he chuckled.

Steph wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Nah, your order is actually the easiest and so my favorite,” she shot the group a smile. She hadn’t realized that Tim was going to introduce her to his Titan friends, well introduce Steph seeing as how Batgirl already knew them all. Since taking their orders she knew exactly who they were, three of them didn’t wear a mask anyway.

The final girl had finished studying the menu and came closer to the counter. “Can I get a large caramel mocha and a strawberry crepe? For Cassie,” she smiled warmly and Steph returned it. Scribbling the name down she added a star over the I and at the end. She finished ringing everything up and swiped Tim’s card, passing it to Cassie.

Her coworker had already started on the drinks so Steph plated the pastries and grabbed her own cotton candy frappe. “I’m going to go on break then.” Her coworker just shrugged as Steph grabbed the tray and walked to the back corner where the teen heroes had commandeered a table.

She handed out the drinks before flopping into the booth next to Tim, slurping her pink and frothy drink up her straw. Tim practically inhaled the first third of his coffee before realizing that everyone was waiting on him to make introductions. Steph knew she could just introduce herself but she liked forcing the boy blunder to be social. When he realized that he was who they were waiting on he settled the paper cup on the table and self-consciously ran his finger over the black ink of his name. His eye caught on the bat and he shared a self-deprecating grin with her.

“So, this is my friend Steph. Steph these are my, uh, camp friends. Kon, Kara, Cassie, and Bart,” he pointed to each in turn.

“Camp?” Steph asked with a raised brow. “Tim. Really? Camp.” His cheeks colored and the others squirmed uncomfortably. Steph waved her hand at them. “Relax. I know. My only question is, where’s Tam?”

Tim swallowed his coffee quickly before answering. “She’s on vacation with her family. I thought you knew?”

“Practically and actually a Wayne are two very different things,” Steph responded dryly.

Kara’s eyes widened. “No way,” she whispered.

Steph laughed and nodded. “So, what’re you lot doing in Gotham? You know we have strict rules around here.”

“We know he’s off world right now,” Cassie smirked. “Tim said we had to check out the best coffee shop in Gotham, while we could.”

“He also said that it had the best look barista in all of Gotham too,” Kon said with a wink. Steph nearly whacked the back of her head on the booth she laughed so hard. Tim’s eyes narrowed to half Batglare™ level at his best friend. Kon was able to shrug it off but suddenly doubled over with an “Oof!” From Bart’s laughter and the girls’ grins they had apparently elbowed him in the stomach simultaneously.

“I like you friends,” she stage whispered to Tim.

“We like you too! I mean I do, uh like you that is,” Kara stopped as her face reddened.

Bart smiled at her before turning back to address Steph. “You ever in Cali let us know!”

“Trust me, I will. No way I can afford a hotel out there on these tips,” Steph laughed.

“You’re more than welcome to crash in my room,” Cassie said with an easy smile.

“Thanks! I’ve got to head back,” Steph said. She finished her frothy pink drink and slid out of the booth. “I get off at three if you guys are still in town and wanna hang?”

“We were going to head back to the manor and play video games,” Tim said as he looked at the table for their responses.

“Why don’t you guys game and Kara and I can meet Steph and hit the shops?” Cassie suggested.

Everyone nodded and Steph grinned. “Ok! I’ll meet you here at three then,” she said before walking back to the counter.

***

Steph stuffed her apron and hat into her messenger bag as she waved to her coworkers. Cassie and Kara were waiting patiently outside the shop. Kara with her sundress and Cassie with her jean short overalls and crop top, they looked like any two teenagers hanging out on a warm summer afternoon. Not a single Gothamite passing by would have guessed two of the most powerful people in the world were right there playing Pokemon Go. Then again, they didn’t realize the true night life of their first family either.

“Hey guys!” Steph called as she walked towards them.

They both raised their heads from their phones and smiled at her. Kara waved it toward her excitedly. “Look! I caught an Eevee! I know they’re not much of anything but I think they’re adorable. I have about 10 and every evolution,” Kara trailed off as her cheeks started to turn pink.

“Kara, I’m not the type to judge one on their favorite pokemon. Now what team you’re on is another story entirely,” Steph raised her eyebrows imploringly.

Cassie burst out laughing. “Valor all the way!” Steph gave her a victorious high five as Kara’s cheeks turned a deep red. “She’s on Instinct,” Cassie said.

“Aw. That’s actually really cute. Don’t tell anyone I told you this, cause he’d totally kill me, but so is Dami.” Steph clapped Kara on the shoulder. The other girl just looked at her incredulously. “On my own grave I swear it!”

Cassie winced at that. “I don’t mean to be rude but uh, are the death jokes necessary?”

“As Jason says, ‘They’re a coping mechanism’,” Steph shrugged.

Kara exchanged a concerned look with Cassie. Steph noticed Cassie pursing her lips back at Kara. If she knew Cassie better than Steph would have been able to see the concern in her expression too.

“Why don’t we go hit the shopping district? Tim left me his card so we can have some fun,” Steph said, trying to dispel the slight chill that had fallen over the three girls.

“Ok,” Kara said with a bright smile.

“I’m always down to spend Wayne family money,” Cassie smirked.

The three girls left the front of the coffee shop and headed downtown, their blonde hair fluttering in the wind. The rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind of fun. Cassie told them all about her mom’s latest exhibition in Peru and how she had been helping in her free time. Kara talked about moving to the Kent farm and helping with the chores. Feeding the newborn calves was her favorite. Steph entertained them with tales from the coffee shop. Regaling crazy costumers, crazy orders, and just plan odd encounters.

By the end of the day the three had made plans to meet again, this time to go Pokemon hunting in San Francisco. Steph had been so glad that Tim had introduced her, Stephanie Brown that is, to Cassie Sandsmark and Kara Danvers. Hanging out as Batgirl, Supergirl, and Wonder Girl was certainly fun, but as three average girls was ten times better.

[comepraisetheinfanta]

first lines meme

I was tagged by @actuallylorelaigilmore ^_^

rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories. see if there are any patterns. then tag your favorite authors. 

tagging these talented people: @missanthropicprinciple @victorianoir and any mutuals who write fanfic (I didn’t tag some of you b/c I know you’ve been tagged before but if you want to go ahead and have another go ^_~)

PUBLISHED FICS:

1. THREE DAVIDS

There are three Davids.

Two of them don’t exist anymore, not really.

-= The First=-

The first David is the one Toby and his sisters try their hardest to protect, the one that is impossibly bright and not yet able to fight his own battles.

He can be annoying sometimes, this little puppy, always nipping at Toby’s heels, always wanting Toby’s attention and approval. Toby’s long-suffering sighs fool absolutely no one; they all see how he patiently teaches this David all the things he’ll need to know in the years to come. 

2. THE GODS HAVE CONSPIRED - PROLOGUE

Washington, D.C.

January 2038

Inauguration Day

A long time ago a friend of mine (though there was nothing amicable about our relationship at the time) told me what sort of man it took to be President.

“The man in that job shouldn’t have to be presented with anything!” he bellowed at me. “It’s for someone who grabs it and holds on to it, for someone who thinks the gods have conspired to bring him to this place, that destiny demands of him this service!”

3. KEEPING HIM SAFE

“Why does it feel like this? I’ve seen shootings before.”

Brooklyn - Summer 1965

  Ten year-old Toby Ziegler had spent the afternoon playing baseball with his sister Judith and her friends. Now that Toby was ten and the rest of them were about to enter High School they didn’t often let him play with them, but today they had relented and they had played until the sun had gone down.

   The twenty boys (and Judith, the only girl) had gathered their things and had split up to head home, with five of the boys making their way back home with Judith and Toby because they all lived on the same street

  They weren’t far from their street when shots rang out.

4. THE WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENT 

1966

Westport, CT

 Miriam Lyman heard the wooden floor behind her creak. She put her book aside and turned to look at the little boy she knew she would find, his walk and the sound it made was unmistakable. At five years old Joshua Lyman already swaggered; it was a walk befitting a child who was his family’s little prince, spoiled and adored by all.

  In his small hands there was a large leather bound book.

 "What have you got there, Joshua?“

  “It’s one of your scrapbooks, Nana,” he said, lifting the book higher in order to give his grandmother a better look.

5. WHILE NORMAN SLEPT

New York City

December 1995

  With a quick flick of the wrist, Joshua Lyman, Esq. tossed his subway token. And, with the impatience of a highly-strung racehorse, he waited to hear the click that always followed the sound of his token clattering against a metal surface, the click that told him that he could push the turnstile and dash full speed toward the subway train.

6. INKBLOTS

  Josh is having a difficult time staying connected to what is going on around him. He wants to be aware of his surroundings, to be able to call out for help. But all he can think about as sirens wail and red lights flash is how hard it is to breathe, how much his chest hurts, and how much the blood on the concrete looks like an inkblot.  

 His mind begins to wander through memories dulled by time, made hazier by the pain.

 Rorschach. It’s a funny name, like one of Joanie’s composers.

 Rorschach.

  -schach, like Bach.

7. AN INVITATION

Late May 1987

Westport, Connecticut

Rachel Abravanel felt her bed dip beneath her and she groaned.

“Buenos dias, Rahelica,” said the distinctly deep voice Rachel usually found comforting, but that today brought back memories of the rare days she hadn’t wanted to go to school and her father would have to coax her out of bed.

“Dad,” she whined without making a move to free herself from her cocoon of blankets.

Rachel’s father responded with a low chuckle.

8. IT’S QUIET UPTOWN

November 18, 1969

It was Noah Lyman’s first day back at work since his daughter’s death.

The firm had been extremely sympathetic, had told him to take as much time off as he needed. They’d promised to farm his cases out, everything would be taken care of.

His colleagues felt guilty despite Joanie’s death being no fault of theirs; Noah and Ada had been at a dinner party for the partners and their wives the night it happened after all. 

9. PROMISES

  Ryan Pierce speed-walked past desks, flipped through papers, and managed to avoid crashing into any of the support staff that zipped by.

  Ryan had news for the President-elect on the people they had been vetting for Senior Staff positions. The majority of them had worked for the campaign and had made it through a round of vetting for their campaign jobs so it hadn’t taken long to make sure there weren’t any skeletons deeper in the closets of people who were going to be working in the White House.

10. SHIVA IN THE WHITE HOUSE - Ryan

Washington D.C. - 2043

  Ryan Pierce rounded up the most trusted members of the Senior Staff and told them that their jobs were going to be a little harder for the next few days and that he expected them to rise to the occasion. There would be no setting of fires that would require the President to put out, they would make sure that the West Wing continued to run like a well-oiled machine. Ryan was willing to move heaven and earth to make sure nothing ended up on the President’s literal and figurative desk unless it absolutely needed to.

11. SHIVA IN THE WHITE HOUSE - Sam’s Revelation 

Maryland - 2043

Sam and Toby were sitting in a secluded corner of Andy’s backyard. He’d come directly to Andy’s from the airport with Ainsley. Sam’s two Secret Service agents were parked in front of the house and Ainsley was in the living room with CJ, Andy, and the rest of Toby’s family.

 Toby had known that there was something on his friend’s mind the moment he’d seen him so he dragged him outside and away from everyone else as fast as his old joints would allow, and had waited patiently for whatever it was that was eating away at Sam to come out.

 “I loved him,” Sam whispered, half to himself, as if the statement was more for Sam’s own benefit than Toby’s.

—————

WIPs:

I don’t really have any other published stuff (nothing I’m particularly keen to share) but I do have a my massive af WEST WING vignette collection The Gods Have Conspired currently in progress. The following are excerpts from the beginnings of vignettes I’m working on for that collection.

————–

12.

The Catskills   1966

Several heads turn when Felix appears by the pool. He’s wearing short teal swim trunks that show off his long lean legs, a towel that hangs from his neck obscures most of his chest but a small gleaming Star of David, which hangs from a gold chain is visible in its nest of sparse chest hair, catches peoples’ eyes and makes them wonder what the rest of his chest looks like and hope that he’ll toss the towel off soon. Felix cuts a handsome figure. He’s no strapping David hewn from marble but there is something of a classical handsomeness to him, the contrapposto pose he assumed as he took in his surroundings was certainly giving the girls at the pool ideas.

 13.

2060

  “So, what's it like being a Lyman?” the young bikini-clad woman asked Josh*.

  “Honestly? It's a pain in the ass.”

  “Oh,” his companion responded, not expecting that answer at all. “But like, everyone loves your family, you guys are like a huge deal.”

 “Yeah, but there are certain things Lymans are supposed to do. Like,  just about my entire family is in politics, you know? And that’s not what I want to do with my life. I mean fuck, my mom is an actress and even she’s really involved in political shit. My grandfather was president, my great-great-grandfather was president, so what, I wasn’t around for any of that so why the fuck should anyone expect me to be involved?”

[*This isn’t Josh Lyman DCoS to Bartlet and CoS to Santos, this is another Josh Lyman entirely ^_~]

14.

200?

“Joshua Lyman, you told me you hated cats!”

Josh cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

“I do.”

“Well you didn’t always hate them,” she replied, waving the picture she had found in front of him. “What’s that you’ve got in your arms?”

Josh snatched the picture from Donna’s grasp.

“That’s Heifetz,” he said as he looked at his smiling five year old self cradling the grey cat like a baby, the cat looking almost indulgent and completely used to being handled by a rough-and-tumble little boy.

15.

2043

   “I never thought- that in my lifetime-”

  “Dad, don’t you dare jinx it or I will make you go outside turn around, spit, curse, and whatever else you are supposed to do, I don’t care how old you are. We’re not done yet, and you are already trying to jinx it.”

  “To have even gotten this far, _____.”

 “Well, leave it to the Jewish President to shake things up in Israel,” _____ said, after flashing his father a cocky grin that made him look like a teenager instead of a middle-aged man.

16.

“Bee. Bee, bee, bee, bee, bee,” Zach shouted.

  “No Zachary, it is To-by, can you say To-by?”

  “Bee!”

  “Just give up, Tobus. He’s gonna be calling you that even after you quit fighting it,” CJ said. “Isn’t that right little man?”

   “Jay!” Zach shouted, raising his arms up toward CJ, his way of asking to be picked up.

 “While you’re busy being a grump over the name ‘Bee’ I am going to embrace the name I’ve been given by my diminutive pal,” CJ said as she lifted Zach up on began bouncing him on her lap, much to his delight.

17.

 ______ ran his hands up his wife’s sides and rested his thumbs under her breasts.

  Annie suddenly went rigid on top of _______.

  “Oh my god, my grandparents had sex in this room.”

  “What?”

  “My grandparents, they had sex. In this room.”

  “Yeah, well I am sure they’ve changed the mattress and sheets since then, even if it is the same bed frame,” _______ said with his attempt at an innocent smile.

  “______ ______!” Annie shouted as she grabbed a pillow and hit her husband with it.

“Ow, Annie, you’re hitting the President of the United States!”

18.

Beginning of 4th year of Seaborn Administration

  Josh Lyman had run as fast as his body would allow from the security check-in desk to the office outside the Oval.

  “Ainsley?”

  “Hello, Josh. You alright there?”

  “Yeah, I just need to catch my breath.”

  Ainsley nodded.

  “He’s in the situation room right now,” Ainsley informed him.

  “D’you know what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know much, I just know what they’ve been reporting in the news.”

 “Which really isn’t much, is it?”

  “No.”

 There was very little the news was able to reveal at this point, the rioters were making it hard for any foreign correspondents to get close to the embassy.

19.

Germany 1945 Jakob tried to steady himself when he felt his legs begin to weaken and threatened to give way underneath him.

He felt his chest begin to tighten and he found himself forced to lean up against the wall. He had managed to get through so much in the last several weeks without letting his emotions get the better of him but he could no longer keep up the pretense that he wasn’t affected by what he saw. The city of his birth in ruins.

It was impossible for him not to be conflicted, his liberators had been left with no options, and so his beloved city had had to pay the price for the sins of its inhabitants; it had to become a shell of its former self, a daily reminder of his neighbors’ transgressions.

20.

2066

~“Wild child full of grace Savior of the human race”~

“They love you to the moon and back, you know,” Margaret says.

“Huh?”

“Your parents, Jonathan, Abbey Rose, the whole family. They love you.”

Josh doesn’t say anything, he decides to stare at the IV port taped to his hand.

She’s so nonchalant about it, just throws it out there while skipping a marble across a chinese checkers board.

-=-=-=-=–

Ok… so patterns… I use way too many commas, I often state the year (because I’m a history nerd through and through and I love to skip around to different times in my massive epics). I lowkey feel like Sophia from Golden Girls… “picture it: Sicily 1922″ hahahaha. I don’t seem to open with dialogue in my finished drafts but my WIPs usually open with dialogue. I’m too tired and lazy to keep looking for patterns ;-P

[trendingnewsb]

You Are Lin-Manuel Miranda! Can You Avoid Blowing All Your Hamilton Money At The Mall?

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You are acclaimed composer, playwright, and actor Lin-Manuel Miranda. Your musical Hamilton won 11 Tony Awards including Best Musical, plus the Grammy for Best Musical Theater Album and the Pulitzer Prize for Drama.

Yes, I wrote “Hamilton.” I am Lin-Manuel Miranda.

It seems like Hamilton must be doing pretty well financially. The theater is always sold out, and you’re pretty sure you’re getting a percentage of the ticket sales.

You’re not really sure how much money you have in your bank account at this point. It’s been years since you bothered to check the balance. You gave your bank info to a Hamilton HR person, and they set up an auto-pay thingy for you when the show first opened. However, after years of Hamilton performing sold-out shows to rave reviews, you assume you’ve probably earned enough money to afford a trip to the mall.

Still, it’s better to be safe than sorry. You should check with a financial adviser to make sure the mall is within your budget.

Go to a financial adviser’s office.

What is the mall?

The mall is a gleaming palace of commerce, a paradise where dozens of stores coexist in the ultimate shopping experience. You’ve never been to the mall, but you’ve heard that anything can be bought there.

Since you were a little boy growing up in Manhattan, years before you wrote and starred in your first Tony-winning musical, 2008’s In The Heights, you dreamt of one day visiting the mall and going on a shopping spree. Apparently, there is even a court filled with food if you get hungry while you shop.

The mall apparently can be pretty expensive though, which is why you haven’t tried visiting until you stowed away a little nest egg by having the most popular musical in the world. It’s taken decades of hard work to become an internationally renowned Broadway star, but now perhaps, finally, it will pay off with a trip to the mall.

Go to a financial adviser’s office to see if you can afford the mall.

Sing an expository song about your lifelong dream of going to the mall.

The mall, the mall A place where you can buy it all! All my life I dreamt of shopping there The building that has stores everywhere Now at last, this is my chance To visit the mall! A place to buy anything at all! Even things like pants!

You head to the nearest financial adviser you can find, an accountant that owns a tax-preparation storefront called “TAXES DONE QUICK” near Times Square, wedged between a Dunkin’ Donuts and a CVS pharmacy.

The accountant recognizes you when you walk in. “Wow, you’re Lin-Manuel Miranda. What are you doing here?”

I need to review my finances and plan my budget.

Dump a folder containing your W-2, paychecks, business receipts, and $50 million in cash on the desk so the accountant can review your finances.

“Wow. Okay. I usually just file taxes for normal people that aren’t fabulously wealthy Tony Award winners, but sure, I’m happy to give it a shot.” The accountant whips out a calculator and starts trying to piece together the puzzle of pay stubs, royalty checks, and MacArthur Genius Grants you’ve presented him with.

“This will take a little while. Can I offer you a cup of sparkling water while you wait?”

Yes, thank you.

No, thank you.

Sparkling water is something you can drink from a cup Slurp it up! Drinking water with bubbles Eases your troubles Thanks to H20 and carbon dioxide Your tongue embarks on a refreshing ride

The account fills up a glass of sparkling water and hands it to you. It’s ice cold and crisp.

Silently wait for the accountant to finish.

“Suit yourself. All right, I better start figuring this out.”

Silently wait for the accountant to finish.

The sparkling water is ice cold and crisp.

Silently wait for the accountant to finish.

You rap about sparkling water. The accountant blinks, then fills up a cup of sparkling water and silently slides it across the desk.

Now you might be wondering, what the hell? What’s this water stuff, is it a solid or a gel? Neither one, son, it’s a liquid state of matter And it has no calories, so it can’t make you fatter

Drink the sparkling water.

Now let me opine about our friend, CO2 A gaseous sensation of odorless carbonation Infiltrating your hydration like a ninja of thirst assassination Two oxygen atoms bonded together with carbon, it’s the go-to When your thirst is the worst source of frustration And you need a fizzy drink to rectify the situation

Drink the sparkling water.

Wait a second, I hear you ask. Lin-Manuel, what goes in my glass? Is it a liquid or a gas? You mentioned both in turn Do I have to choose one, together they sound like a blast I’d hate to spurn water, or tell carbon dioxide I’ve passed Dooming my drink to mediocrity before it’s even begun A golden age of refreshment on the kingdom of my tongue

Drink the sparkling water.

The good news for your drink is you don’t have to elect Between water the liquid, and carbon dioxide the mist ‘Cause when you selected seltzer you chose to connect Bubbles with fluid, concocting effervescence that’s hard to resist So fill the glass to the brim, let it foam up With sparkling water, something you can drink from a cup!

Drink the sparkling water.

The accountant stares at you for a couple seconds, then after an awkward silence gives a few polite claps of applause.

Take a sip of sparkling water.

You take a small sip of sparkling water.

Put the glass back down on the desk.

Silently wait for the accountant to finish.

But who is responsible for this miraculous mixture? Who created sparkling water, the liquid delight? This tantalizing triumph of tingling moisture Letting me comfort my parched throat until it feels kosher By guzzling club soda all day and all night?

We gotta rewind back to the distant year of 1767 When a scientist by the name of Joseph Priestley Thank heaven, decided to investigate the nature of carbonation And stumbled upon a technique with revolutionary application The secret of affixing air to water to make a drink bubbly Bringing seltzer to the public of the English nation An Enlightenment scholar and natural philosopher A seeker of truth who found the secret of putting fizz in a beaker Dr. Priestley could have built a business empire Selling seltzer to the bidder who bid highest, but he didn’t conspire To make a profit off his refreshing invention No, he felt no need to be greedy, so decided to author A pamphlet with directions to replicate his creation So anyone could produce the scintillating refresher

So raise your seltzer to the sky, time for a toast! We have to praise this inventor for being the progenitor Of a beverage that is delicious to the utmost I’m talking, of course, about sparkling water That magnificent liquid I like to sup It’s something you can drink from a cup!

While you were rapping about sparkling water, the accountant finished reviewing your documents. He waits several seconds to make sure you’re done before beginning to speak.

“Lin-Manuel Miranda, after examining your finances I calculated you have a net worth of $100 million.”

Is that enough money to afford a trip to the mall?

The accountant grits his teeth in concentration as he pores through your complicated financial records. Finally, after what feels like hours, he finishes his analysis.

“Lin-Manuel Miranda, after examining your finances I calculated you have a net worth of $100 million.”

Is that enough money to afford a trip to the mall?

The accountant stares at you for a long moment before responding. “Yes.”

Great, I’m off to the mall! Thanks! Bye!

You toss $10 million to the accountant for his services, and head over to the mall.

Minus that payment to the accountant, your net worth is now $90 million. Hopefully that’s enough to buy some nice shirts at the mall, and maybe grab a sandwich for lunch.

Enter the mall.

At last, the mall A place where you can buy it all! The road to get here was long Which is why I sing this heartfelt song I want to buy nice shirts with collars Yes, I’m really at the mall I’m about to enter the mall I have 90 million dollars

The mall is beautiful beyond your wildest imagination. Rows of gleaming stores beckon invitingly, offering you any product your heart desires.

Then you hear it. The sound of jubilant shrieking and stampeding feet. It’s a familiar noise you know and fear.

Oh no. Not now. Not when my mall dream is about to come true.

You’ve been spotted by Hamilton fans. They crowd around you in a frenetic melee of grasping arms and adoring gazes.

“Wow, it’s Lin-Manuel Miranda!” screams one of them.

“We love Hamilton, and to a lesser extent we also love your other works such as In The Heights!” screams another.

“‘By casting minority actors to portray the Founding Fathers, Hamilton is a wryly clever subversion of the white patriarchal power structure that established America, examining the paradoxical moral duality of historical figures such as George Washington who are hailed as champions of freedom despite their guilt for partaking in the national original sin of slavery!” screams another fan.

“You also wrote the songs in Moana!” another fan screams helpfully.

This isn’t good. These fans are extremely appreciative of your music, and they’ll never leave you alone to shop in peace. You’ll have to find a way of losing them. Maybe you can pick up a disguise at one of the stores here so you can shop incognito.

Try to scare them off by singing the menacing song Aaron Burr sings in “Hamilton” during his deadly duel with Alexander Hamilton.

Run into Hot Topic to purchase a disguise.

You’re a fool, Alexander Hamilton That’s why I got myself a gun So we could duel, and I’ll shoot you in the head And then you’ll die, and you’ll be dead Then I guess I’ll go for lunch afterward They just invented paninis, have you heard? It’s basically a sandwich, but it’s grilled I’m eating bread with lines on it, after you’re killed They also invented french fries this morning Going to enjoy eating those, while your family’s in mourning It’s a stick of potato, fried until it’s gold And I’ll nosh on those while your corpse is growing mold Ketchup doesn’t exist yet, that’s my sorrow They’re really close though, it might exist by tomorrow Chefs are experimenting with tomatoes, giving it all they got Too bad you’ll never taste ketchup, because you’ll be shot

The point I’m trying to explain, Mr. Hamilton Is that I’m planning to shoot you with my gun And after our duel, when you’re deceased I’m going to buy a nice lunch and feast

Oh no, your plan backfired! Instead of scaring them away, singing a song from their favorite musical in the world made the Hamilton fans even more riled up.

Escape into Hot Topic.

Hot Topic is a large empty room containing only a somber man dressed up as a skeleton. “Hello, welcome to Hot Topic, The Store That Sells A Jack Skellington Costume™,” the Hot Topic cashier says glumly. “Would you like to buy our Jack Skellington costume? He’s the main guy from The Nightmare Before Christmas, which is a movie that came out in 1993. I am wearing the costume, but you can still buy it.”

You only have one costume for sale?

Jack Skellington was the boss of Halloween Town Despite his skeletal grin he still bore a frown He had a hole in his heart that fright couldn’t fill Until he learned about Christmas and got a thrill The pumpkin king of Halloween caused a scene Kidnapping Santa so he could reign supreme Over Yuletide joy by making creepy toys But the gifts were too scary for all the girls and boys

So Jack Skellington fought a bug-filled sack And saved Santa Claus to bring real Christmas back Jolly Saint Nick put the holiday to rights So people could properly celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ

“Huh,” says the Hot Topic cashier. “Is that the plot to The Nightmare Before Christmas? I’ve never seen it. Anyway, do you want to buy our one costume?”

You only have one costume for sale?

“Unfortunately, yeah, we’re down to our last Jack Skellington costume,” the Hot Topic cashier says sadly. “Long ago, Hot Topic was rich with Jack Skellington costumes. Shelf after shelf of Jack Skellington costumes filled this store, and hundreds of people came every day to buy their Jack Skellington costumes. In that golden age of the mall, Hot Topic was known as The Store That Sells Many Jack Skellington Costumes™.”

What happened?

“People don’t come to the mall anymore to buy their Jack Skellington costumes,” mourns the Hot Topic cashier. “They just buy Jack Skellington costumes online from the comfort of their own home, without even having to put on a pair of Jack Skellington pants to leave the house.”

That’s horrible! Allow me to help Hot Topic out by buying your Jack Skellington costume.

You toss the Hot Topic cashier $20 million, and he strips naked and hands you the Jack Skellington costume. His frown is now replaced by a grateful smile. “Thank you, Lin-Manuel Miranda! Wow, the retail price of this costume was $34.95, so it’s really nice of you to give Hot Topic $20 million for it.”

You put on the heavily used Jack Skellington costume. It smells like old sweat and bad deodorant, but it’ll keep you from being recognized by your fans.

Take your remaining $70 million and shop elsewhere.

You run into the crowd of Hamilton fans again when you leave Hot Topic. “Excuse us, Mr. Skellington! Did you happen to see which way Lin-Manuel Miranda went?” one shouts inquisitively at you.

Good. It seems that your costume has them fooled.

I saw a very large bird pick up Lin-Manuel Miranda and swallow him.

Last I saw Lin-Manuel Miranda, he had just been picked up by a very large bird, and as it ate him, he was singing a song that goes like this:

I’m Lin-Manuel, the composer of “Hamilton” A very large bird has me grasped in a talon It’s eating me as we speak I’m sliding down its beak Now I’m stuck in an avian, forever gone I am not dressed up like Jack Skellington

“We’ve got to rescue Lin-Manuel Miranda from that bird’s stomach so we can continue to scream nice things at him!” scream your fans. They begin feverishly roaming the mall in search of the fictional bird that supposedly swallowed you.

Now you’re free to roam the mall in peace. But what store will you visit next?

Go to whichever store is closest, which happens to be Borders bookstore.

Remember the song the actors playing your parents sang in your 2004 autobiographical off-Broadway play, “Lin-Manuel Miranda, If You Ever Visit The Mall Here’s A Store You Must Shop At.”

Father: “My little Lin, should you ever find yourself within…”

Mother: “That wonderful hall known as the mall…”

Father: “Visit the book hoarders, known as Borders”

Greek Chorus: Oh-oh-oh, yeah-yeah-yeah. Borders bookstore and café.

5-Year-Old Lin-Manuel Miranda: Whoa, what did they say? It’s a bookstore and a café?

Father: Son, believe it. It’s true. Borders can sell both books and coffee to you.

Mother: That’s why the slogan of this fine bookseller is “Books And Coffee Together Sounds Too Good To Be True, But It Is True, Because It’s At Borders, Where You Can Place Both Coffee And Book Orders™.”

Greek Chorus: Hey-hey-hey, yes-yes-yes, wow-wow-wow. Borders.

Follow your parents’ advice and eagerly run to Borders bookstore.

A huge line of people wearing wizard costumes are camped outside the entrance to Borders.

Excuse me, what’s going on here?

“Salutations, friend! I am Harry Potter,” says one of the wizard cosplayers waiting outside Borders. “We are on line for the DVD release of Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows – Part 2.”

Didn’t the DVD of “Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows – Part 2” come out in 2011?

In your excitement for Borders, shove past the wizards without talking to them.

“Hello, I am Ronald Weasley!” says another wizard cosplayer. “Yes, Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows – Part 2 was released on DVD on November 11, 2011. But Borders went out of business on September 11 of 2011, two months before the DVD came out, so we never got to buy it.”

The Ronald Weasley cosplayer sighs forlornly. “We’ve been waiting on line ever since, hoping that Borders reopens someday so we can buy the DVD of Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows – Part 2.”

No, not Borders! It can’t be closed! I was going to buy a coffee and read an entire book without buying it, and then use the bathroom, and then leave.

Hold on, if Borders has been closed since 2011, why haven’t you just gone somewhere else to buy “Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows – Part 2” on DVD?

“Hello, we’re Hermione Granger, Albus Dumbledore, and Draco Malfoy,” say three more wizards. “We can’t leave to buy the DVD elsewhere, because then we’ll give up our place in line in case Borders ever reopens.”

Look through the window into Borders.

Borders is out of business. You stare through the window at the tragically empty shelves of the store, where once books and coffee coexisted in beautiful harmony.

Sing a mournful dirge called “Requiem For Borders Bookstore.”

Sing a defiant ballad called “I Vow To Reopen Borders Bookstore Somehow.”

Farewell Borders, c’est la vie I never had the chance to view Your books and coffee Borders bookstore, so long and adieu Now I cannot buy Books and coffee in the same store It’s sad that Borders had to die Goodbye forever, bookseller I adore

Farewell Borders, merci beaucoup You’ve flown up to heaven in the sky So angels can buy books and coffee in you Borders bookstore, au revoir and goodbye

When Alexander Hamilton faced the British Army To make America a free land Did he falter or get squirmy? No, he bravely fought and made his stand I, Lin-Manuel Miranda, am going to do the same thing Except instead of driving the redcoats from our shore And freeing the colonies from the rule of a king I vow to somehow reopen Borders bookstore When I compare myself to Alexander Hamilton It’s a comparison just about our levels of determination To achieve the ambition we have set our hearts on I’m reopening Borders, not founding a new nation

Just to reiterate, I am not fighting England Or working for a general named George Washington I’m trying to be crystal clear about this so you understand Other than our level of determination, I am nothing like Hamilton

Wiping tears from your eyes, you stride away from the dead husk of Borders to explore the rest of the mall.

You have $70 million to spend, and you’re a grown-up, so you can keep track of how much money you have left from now on. Shop wherever you want, and just remember how much you’re spending. You can do simple arithmetic, right? When you’re out of money, click on “I’m broke” in order to fail. This is on the honor system.

Maybe you’ll find a way to reopen Borders bookstore while you’re at the mall. Or maybe not. You don’t have to. It’s a goal, if you feel like having a goal. You’re Lin-Manuel Miranda, do whatever the hell you want.

Go to Best Buy.

Go to Unfortunately Just Books.

Go to McDonald’s.

Go to the coffee shop Tragically Just Coffee.

Speak to Paul Blart, mall cop.

I’m broke.

You are not broke. You just arrived at the mall, and you still have $70 million left.

Come back when you’re actually out of money.

Go shopping.

“Welcome to Tragically Just Coffee, the wretched café where books aren’t also for sale,” says the barista. “Would you like to buy one of our dumb, book-less coffees?”

Buy a coffee.

Coffee is the black madness juice Drink it to go nuts with power Your brain will pop loose As you stay awake for hour after hour Espresso tastes like sour dirts Like mud from a witch’s trash heap If I don’t drink it, my head hurts And I can peacefully fall asleep

Coffee, espresso, cappuccino, me oh my I will drink that sludge until it fills me I’m going to gulp coffee until I die Because my blood is entirely coffee

Which coffee drink do you want to buy, and pay $12 million for?

Coffee.

Espresso Delight.

Mega-Coffee.

Whole Milk With One Coffee Bean Floating In It.

Widow’s Lament.

Mocha Blaster.

Gentleman’s Frapp.

Espresso Tragedy.

Hyper-Coffee.

Mostly Coffee.

Pervert’s Frapp.

Just Latte Art Without Any Beverage Beneath The Foam.

The barista hands you a Mocha Blaster, a piping-hot coffee drink that is half-drip coffee, half-ice cream sundae fudge, with a pound of chocolate chips and unshelled

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You Are Lin-Manuel Miranda! Can You Avoid Blowing All Your Hamilton Money At The Mall?

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You are acclaimed composer, playwright, and actor Lin-Manuel Miranda. Your musical Hamilton won 11 Tony Awards including Best Musical, plus the Grammy for Best Musical Theater Album and the Pulitzer Prize for Drama.

Yes, I wrote “Hamilton.” I am Lin-Manuel Miranda.

It seems like Hamilton must be doing pretty well financially. The theater is always sold out, and you’re pretty sure you’re getting a percentage of the ticket sales.

You’re not really sure how much money you have in your bank account at this point. It’s been years since you bothered to check the balance. You gave your bank info to a Hamilton HR person, and they set up an auto-pay thingy for you when the show first opened. However, after years of Hamilton performing sold-out shows to rave reviews, you assume you’ve probably earned enough money to afford a trip to the mall.

Still, it’s better to be safe than sorry. You should check with a financial adviser to make sure the mall is within your budget.

Go to a financial adviser’s office.

What is the mall?

The mall is a gleaming palace of commerce, a paradise where dozens of stores coexist in the ultimate shopping experience. You’ve never been to the mall, but you’ve heard that anything can be bought there.

Since you were a little boy growing up in Manhattan, years before you wrote and starred in your first Tony-winning musical, 2008’s In The Heights, you dreamt of one day visiting the mall and going on a shopping spree. Apparently, there is even a court filled with food if you get hungry while you shop.

The mall apparently can be pretty expensive though, which is why you haven’t tried visiting until you stowed away a little nest egg by having the most popular musical in the world. It’s taken decades of hard work to become an internationally renowned Broadway star, but now perhaps, finally, it will pay off with a trip to the mall.

Go to a financial adviser’s office to see if you can afford the mall.

Sing an expository song about your lifelong dream of going to the mall.

The mall, the mall A place where you can buy it all! All my life I dreamt of shopping there The building that has stores everywhere Now at last, this is my chance To visit the mall! A place to buy anything at all! Even things like pants!

You head to the nearest financial adviser you can find, an accountant that owns a tax-preparation storefront called “TAXES DONE QUICK” near Times Square, wedged between a Dunkin’ Donuts and a CVS pharmacy.

The accountant recognizes you when you walk in. “Wow, you’re Lin-Manuel Miranda. What are you doing here?”

I need to review my finances and plan my budget.

Dump a folder containing your W-2, paychecks, business receipts, and $50 million in cash on the desk so the accountant can review your finances.

“Wow. Okay. I usually just file taxes for normal people that aren’t fabulously wealthy Tony Award winners, but sure, I’m happy to give it a shot.” The accountant whips out a calculator and starts trying to piece together the puzzle of pay stubs, royalty checks, and MacArthur Genius Grants you’ve presented him with.

“This will take a little while. Can I offer you a cup of sparkling water while you wait?”

Yes, thank you.

No, thank you.

Sparkling water is something you can drink from a cup Slurp it up! Drinking water with bubbles Eases your troubles Thanks to H20 and carbon dioxide Your tongue embarks on a refreshing ride

The account fills up a glass of sparkling water and hands it to you. It’s ice cold and crisp.

Silently wait for the accountant to finish.

“Suit yourself. All right, I better start figuring this out.”

Silently wait for the accountant to finish.

The sparkling water is ice cold and crisp.

Silently wait for the accountant to finish.

You rap about sparkling water. The accountant blinks, then fills up a cup of sparkling water and silently slides it across the desk.

Now you might be wondering, what the hell? What’s this water stuff, is it a solid or a gel? Neither one, son, it’s a liquid state of matter And it has no calories, so it can’t make you fatter

Drink the sparkling water.

Now let me opine about our friend, CO2 A gaseous sensation of odorless carbonation Infiltrating your hydration like a ninja of thirst assassination Two oxygen atoms bonded together with carbon, it’s the go-to When your thirst is the worst source of frustration And you need a fizzy drink to rectify the situation

Drink the sparkling water.

Wait a second, I hear you ask. Lin-Manuel, what goes in my glass? Is it a liquid or a gas? You mentioned both in turn Do I have to choose one, together they sound like a blast I’d hate to spurn water, or tell carbon dioxide I’ve passed Dooming my drink to mediocrity before it’s even begun A golden age of refreshment on the kingdom of my tongue

Drink the sparkling water.

The good news for your drink is you don’t have to elect Between water the liquid, and carbon dioxide the mist ‘Cause when you selected seltzer you chose to connect Bubbles with fluid, concocting effervescence that’s hard to resist So fill the glass to the brim, let it foam up With sparkling water, something you can drink from a cup!

Drink the sparkling water.

The accountant stares at you for a couple seconds, then after an awkward silence gives a few polite claps of applause.

Take a sip of sparkling water.

You take a small sip of sparkling water.

Put the glass back down on the desk.

Silently wait for the accountant to finish.

But who is responsible for this miraculous mixture? Who created sparkling water, the liquid delight? This tantalizing triumph of tingling moisture Letting me comfort my parched throat until it feels kosher By guzzling club soda all day and all night?

We gotta rewind back to the distant year of 1767 When a scientist by the name of Joseph Priestley Thank heaven, decided to investigate the nature of carbonation And stumbled upon a technique with revolutionary application The secret of affixing air to water to make a drink bubbly Bringing seltzer to the public of the English nation An Enlightenment scholar and natural philosopher A seeker of truth who found the secret of putting fizz in a beaker Dr. Priestley could have built a business empire Selling seltzer to the bidder who bid highest, but he didn’t conspire To make a profit off his refreshing invention No, he felt no need to be greedy, so decided to author A pamphlet with directions to replicate his creation So anyone could produce the scintillating refresher

So raise your seltzer to the sky, time for a toast! We have to praise this inventor for being the progenitor Of a beverage that is delicious to the utmost I’m talking, of course, about sparkling water That magnificent liquid I like to sup It’s something you can drink from a cup!

While you were rapping about sparkling water, the accountant finished reviewing your documents. He waits several seconds to make sure you’re done before beginning to speak.

“Lin-Manuel Miranda, after examining your finances I calculated you have a net worth of $100 million.”

Is that enough money to afford a trip to the mall?

The accountant grits his teeth in concentration as he pores through your complicated financial records. Finally, after what feels like hours, he finishes his analysis.

“Lin-Manuel Miranda, after examining your finances I calculated you have a net worth of $100 million.”

Is that enough money to afford a trip to the mall?

The accountant stares at you for a long moment before responding. “Yes.”

Great, I’m off to the mall! Thanks! Bye!

You toss $10 million to the accountant for his services, and head over to the mall.

Minus that payment to the accountant, your net worth is now $90 million. Hopefully that’s enough to buy some nice shirts at the mall, and maybe grab a sandwich for lunch.

Enter the mall.

At last, the mall A place where you can buy it all! The road to get here was long Which is why I sing this heartfelt song I want to buy nice shirts with collars Yes, I’m really at the mall I’m about to enter the mall I have 90 million dollars

The mall is beautiful beyond your wildest imagination. Rows of gleaming stores beckon invitingly, offering you any product your heart desires.

Then you hear it. The sound of jubilant shrieking and stampeding feet. It’s a familiar noise you know and fear.

Oh no. Not now. Not when my mall dream is about to come true.

You’ve been spotted by Hamilton fans. They crowd around you in a frenetic melee of grasping arms and adoring gazes.

“Wow, it’s Lin-Manuel Miranda!” screams one of them.

“We love Hamilton, and to a lesser extent we also love your other works such as In The Heights!” screams another.

“‘By casting minority actors to portray the Founding Fathers, Hamilton is a wryly clever subversion of the white patriarchal power structure that established America, examining the paradoxical moral duality of historical figures such as George Washington who are hailed as champions of freedom despite their guilt for partaking in the national original sin of slavery!” screams another fan.

“You also wrote the songs in Moana!” another fan screams helpfully.

This isn’t good. These fans are extremely appreciative of your music, and they’ll never leave you alone to shop in peace. You’ll have to find a way of losing them. Maybe you can pick up a disguise at one of the stores here so you can shop incognito.

Try to scare them off by singing the menacing song Aaron Burr sings in “Hamilton” during his deadly duel with Alexander Hamilton.

Run into Hot Topic to purchase a disguise.

You’re a fool, Alexander Hamilton That’s why I got myself a gun So we could duel, and I’ll shoot you in the head And then you’ll die, and you’ll be dead Then I guess I’ll go for lunch afterward They just invented paninis, have you heard? It’s basically a sandwich, but it’s grilled I’m eating bread with lines on it, after you’re killed They also invented french fries this morning Going to enjoy eating those, while your family’s in mourning It’s a stick of potato, fried until it’s gold And I’ll nosh on those while your corpse is growing mold Ketchup doesn’t exist yet, that’s my sorrow They’re really close though, it might exist by tomorrow Chefs are experimenting with tomatoes, giving it all they got Too bad you’ll never taste ketchup, because you’ll be shot

The point I’m trying to explain, Mr. Hamilton Is that I’m planning to shoot you with my gun And after our duel, when you’re deceased I’m going to buy a nice lunch and feast

Oh no, your plan backfired! Instead of scaring them away, singing a song from their favorite musical in the world made the Hamilton fans even more riled up.

Escape into Hot Topic.

Hot Topic is a large empty room containing only a somber man dressed up as a skeleton. “Hello, welcome to Hot Topic, The Store That Sells A Jack Skellington Costume™,” the Hot Topic cashier says glumly. “Would you like to buy our Jack Skellington costume? He’s the main guy from The Nightmare Before Christmas, which is a movie that came out in 1993. I am wearing the costume, but you can still buy it.”

You only have one costume for sale?

Jack Skellington was the boss of Halloween Town Despite his skeletal grin he still bore a frown He had a hole in his heart that fright couldn’t fill Until he learned about Christmas and got a thrill The pumpkin king of Halloween caused a scene Kidnapping Santa so he could reign supreme Over Yuletide joy by making creepy toys But the gifts were too scary for all the girls and boys

So Jack Skellington fought a bug-filled sack And saved Santa Claus to bring real Christmas back Jolly Saint Nick put the holiday to rights So people could properly celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ

“Huh,” says the Hot Topic cashier. “Is that the plot to The Nightmare Before Christmas? I’ve never seen it. Anyway, do you want to buy our one costume?”

You only have one costume for sale?

“Unfortunately, yeah, we’re down to our last Jack Skellington costume,” the Hot Topic cashier says sadly. “Long ago, Hot Topic was rich with Jack Skellington costumes. Shelf after shelf of Jack Skellington costumes filled this store, and hundreds of people came every day to buy their Jack Skellington costumes. In that golden age of the mall, Hot Topic was known as The Store That Sells Many Jack Skellington Costumes™.”

What happened?

“People don’t come to the mall anymore to buy their Jack Skellington costumes,” mourns the Hot Topic cashier. “They just buy Jack Skellington costumes online from the comfort of their own home, without even having to put on a pair of Jack Skellington pants to leave the house.”

That’s horrible! Allow me to help Hot Topic out by buying your Jack Skellington costume.

You toss the Hot Topic cashier $20 million, and he strips naked and hands you the Jack Skellington costume. His frown is now replaced by a grateful smile. “Thank you, Lin-Manuel Miranda! Wow, the retail price of this costume was $34.95, so it’s really nice of you to give Hot Topic $20 million for it.”

You put on the heavily used Jack Skellington costume. It smells like old sweat and bad deodorant, but it’ll keep you from being recognized by your fans.

Take your remaining $70 million and shop elsewhere.

You run into the crowd of Hamilton fans again when you leave Hot Topic. “Excuse us, Mr. Skellington! Did you happen to see which way Lin-Manuel Miranda went?” one shouts inquisitively at you.

Good. It seems that your costume has them fooled.

I saw a very large bird pick up Lin-Manuel Miranda and swallow him.

Last I saw Lin-Manuel Miranda, he had just been picked up by a very large bird, and as it ate him, he was singing a song that goes like this:

I’m Lin-Manuel, the composer of “Hamilton” A very large bird has me grasped in a talon It’s eating me as we speak I’m sliding down its beak Now I’m stuck in an avian, forever gone I am not dressed up like Jack Skellington

“We’ve got to rescue Lin-Manuel Miranda from that bird’s stomach so we can continue to scream nice things at him!” scream your fans. They begin feverishly roaming the mall in search of the fictional bird that supposedly swallowed you.

Now you’re free to roam the mall in peace. But what store will you visit next?

Go to whichever store is closest, which happens to be Borders bookstore.

Remember the song the actors playing your parents sang in your 2004 autobiographical off-Broadway play, “Lin-Manuel Miranda, If You Ever Visit The Mall Here’s A Store You Must Shop At.”

Father: “My little Lin, should you ever find yourself within…”

Mother: “That wonderful hall known as the mall…”

Father: “Visit the book hoarders, known as Borders”

Greek Chorus: Oh-oh-oh, yeah-yeah-yeah. Borders bookstore and café.

5-Year-Old Lin-Manuel Miranda: Whoa, what did they say? It’s a bookstore and a café?

Father: Son, believe it. It’s true. Borders can sell both books and coffee to you.

Mother: That’s why the slogan of this fine bookseller is “Books And Coffee Together Sounds Too Good To Be True, But It Is True, Because It’s At Borders, Where You Can Place Both Coffee And Book Orders™.”

Greek Chorus: Hey-hey-hey, yes-yes-yes, wow-wow-wow. Borders.

Follow your parents’ advice and eagerly run to Borders bookstore.

A huge line of people wearing wizard costumes are camped outside the entrance to Borders.

Excuse me, what’s going on here?

“Salutations, friend! I am Harry Potter,” says one of the wizard cosplayers waiting outside Borders. “We are on line for the DVD release of Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows – Part 2.”

Didn’t the DVD of “Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows – Part 2” come out in 2011?

In your excitement for Borders, shove past the wizards without talking to them.

“Hello, I am Ronald Weasley!” says another wizard cosplayer. “Yes, Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows – Part 2 was released on DVD on November 11, 2011. But Borders went out of business on September 11 of 2011, two months before the DVD came out, so we never got to buy it.”

The Ronald Weasley cosplayer sighs forlornly. “We’ve been waiting on line ever since, hoping that Borders reopens someday so we can buy the DVD of Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows – Part 2.”

No, not Borders! It can’t be closed! I was going to buy a coffee and read an entire book without buying it, and then use the bathroom, and then leave.

Hold on, if Borders has been closed since 2011, why haven’t you just gone somewhere else to buy “Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows – Part 2” on DVD?

“Hello, we’re Hermione Granger, Albus Dumbledore, and Draco Malfoy,” say three more wizards. “We can’t leave to buy the DVD elsewhere, because then we’ll give up our place in line in case Borders ever reopens.”

Look through the window into Borders.

Borders is out of business. You stare through the window at the tragically empty shelves of the store, where once books and coffee coexisted in beautiful harmony.

Sing a mournful dirge called “Requiem For Borders Bookstore.”

Sing a defiant ballad called “I Vow To Reopen Borders Bookstore Somehow.”

Farewell Borders, c’est la vie I never had the chance to view Your books and coffee Borders bookstore, so long and adieu Now I cannot buy Books and coffee in the same store It’s sad that Borders had to die Goodbye forever, bookseller I adore

Farewell Borders, merci beaucoup You’ve flown up to heaven in the sky So angels can buy books and coffee in you Borders bookstore, au revoir and goodbye

When Alexander Hamilton faced the British Army To make America a free land Did he falter or get squirmy? No, he bravely fought and made his stand I, Lin-Manuel Miranda, am going to do the same thing Except instead of driving the redcoats from our shore And freeing the colonies from the rule of a king I vow to somehow reopen Borders bookstore When I compare myself to Alexander Hamilton It’s a comparison just about our levels of determination To achieve the ambition we have set our hearts on I’m reopening Borders, not founding a new nation

Just to reiterate, I am not fighting England Or working for a general named George Washington I’m trying to be crystal clear about this so you understand Other than our level of determination, I am nothing like Hamilton

Wiping tears from your eyes, you stride away from the dead husk of Borders to explore the rest of the mall.

You have $70 million to spend, and you’re a grown-up, so you can keep track of how much money you have left from now on. Shop wherever you want, and just remember how much you’re spending. You can do simple arithmetic, right? When you’re out of money, click on “I’m broke” in order to fail. This is on the honor system.

Maybe you’ll find a way to reopen Borders bookstore while you’re at the mall. Or maybe not. You don’t have to. It’s a goal, if you feel like having a goal. You’re Lin-Manuel Miranda, do whatever the hell you want.

Go to Best Buy.

Go to Unfortunately Just Books.

Go to McDonald’s.

Go to the coffee shop Tragically Just Coffee.

Speak to Paul Blart, mall cop.

I’m broke.

You are not broke. You just arrived at the mall, and you still have $70 million left.

Come back when you’re actually out of money.

Go shopping.

“Welcome to Tragically Just Coffee, the wretched café where books aren’t also for sale,” says the barista. “Would you like to buy one of our dumb, book-less coffees?”

Buy a coffee.

Coffee is the black madness juice Drink it to go nuts with power Your brain will pop loose As you stay awake for hour after hour Espresso tastes like sour dirts Like mud from a witch’s trash heap If I don’t drink it, my head hurts And I can peacefully fall asleep

Coffee, espresso, cappuccino, me oh my I will drink that sludge until it fills me I’m going to gulp coffee until I die Because my blood is entirely coffee

Which coffee drink do you want to buy, and pay $12 million for?

Coffee.

Espresso Delight.

Mega-Coffee.

Whole Milk With One Coffee Bean Floating In It.

Widow’s Lament.

Mocha Blaster.

Gentleman’s Frapp.

Espresso Tragedy.

Hyper-Coffee.

Mostly Coffee.

Pervert’s Frapp.

Just Latte Art Without Any Beverage Beneath The Foam.

The barista hands you a Mocha Blaster, a piping-hot coffee drink that is half-drip coffee, half-ice cream sundae fudge, with a pound of chocolate chips and unshelled

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