#this town is going to make harvey go grey early

[rotinthedark]

The amount of times Seb's had to drag Sam and Abby's wounded carcasses in for broken bones and whatnot too, though.

[grae-98]

Treatment

Chapter 7

Set between 1880-1890, You have been feeling and acting off. After visiting the doctor's he sends you off to stay in Pelican Town where you are set to receive treatment for your condition. Upon arrival you learn the doctor administering these treatments is better than you think.

Harvey/ unnamed afab!reader

2nd pov

about 3.5k

trigger warnings: reader is diagnosed with hysteria, mentions of depression, cheating/ adultery, doctor/ patient relationship, mentions of infertility

smut tags: Again no smut

notes: i do have this posted on ao3 if you'd prefer to read it there.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Hours after returning to your home you are left with your thoughts. Lying in the once truly comforting sheets your mind felt fridged. The evening felt as though it had lasted a lifetime, causing you to retire early to your bed. Haley gave you a look of knowing as if she felt your pain and sadness, but you would think that it may be concerning the variety of information presented before you just today. Before she had left for the night to return to her own home, she asked you once again if you would be truly okay once she had left.

 You look through the darkness to find the swirling grey fuzz filling your vision. You consider every option. There is to go home and act as though nothing has changed. Yes, you knew of the adultery of your husband; however, that was your husband, and you were obligated to do everything in your power to make things right with him. A second option is to stay here. Be here in Pelican Town. Be happy for a time. Feel completely happy for once since you were a child. Apologize to Harvey and admit that you were acting irrationally and beseech his forgiveness.

‘Why on this Earth would I beg him for forgiveness? He has done wrong to me, and I should feel no way indebted to him.’  

Raging thoughts attempting to be shifted to the sides you lift your hand from beneath your comforter. Tracing shapes within the muddled haze as though it might help you fill out an answer. Suddenly an idea comes upon you however you must rest now and dwell on it come tomorrow.

Forcing your thoughts to rest along with you proved to be more evil than anticipated. Crusted eyes pulled open suddenly as Haley pulled open your curtains. Groaning you motion to her to close them ever so slightly.

“What time is it?” You shift so you’re sitting up un the bed.

“8 o’clock ma’am. Usual time I wake you upon request.” Haley turns her body as to face you.

“Yes, Haley, good. I have not slept this poorly in many months.”

“Does it have anything to do with that has happened yesterday?”

“It has most everything to do with yesterday.”

“Yes, but I am to understand that you asked Robin to arrive early today to join you for a luncheon. Do you still want that?”

Groaning once more, “Yes, I suppose I did ask Robin for lunch, didn’t I?”

“No, actually you hadn’t. I just know you well enough that you would prefer Robin’s company for a lunch rather than dinner.”

“How could you have possibly guessed that?”

“I have been working for you for nearly a year now ma’am. I would like to believe that we know each other well by now.”

“Very good Haley, I am impressed. I like that you will think of me in such a sense as to know the best times to invite my guests. You have truly proven yourself as a lady’s maid. I thought I it was going to be a risk taking you on, but you have proved me very wrong and I am pleased to say that I am delighted for it.”

“Oh. Please do not believe that I have taken it upon myself to know when you should like to receive your visitors.” You laugh as she’s seemed to miss the compliment entirely.

“Haley it is not so deep as to be worried. I was making a point that sometimes you seem to know me better than I seem to know myself.” You stand from the bed and shiver from the coolness of your room. “Shall you get me dressed? I am in no mood for breakfast this morning.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

_

By 1 o’clock the day had pushed itself far enough to see a visit from Robin. She looks pleased to see you as she enters. Her red hair tied simply above her head shows that she had her daughter help her with her hair. The dress she wore looked as though she had only worn it to come here and impress you. As you scan the length of her dress, she seems anxious.

“Robin, how wonderful is it to finally see you and looking so wonderful at that!”

“Thank you, it has been too long since we have spent any time together. How have you been?” You smile as you walk her towards the drawing room with you. She leans in closer to speak in a hushed voice.

“How is your relationship with our fair doctor?” Robin asks as she removes her gloves to seat herself on the all too familiar couch.

You can hardly mask the look on your face as it twists with disgust before settling into a plain face. Taking the seat across from her, your mouth opens and closes twice before finally gritting the words through partially angered teeth.

“Robin, I do not wish to speak about him at this very moment. He and I are no longer.”

She looks at you tentatively before asking her question. “Do you mean to say that you are no longer receiving the treatments then?”

Giving a long sigh before looking down to your hands and then back to Robin. You look to her face and see that there is mild fascination twinged with worry. Her eyebrows partially pushed together while she waits for your response.

“That is correct. I am not and I will tell you about it soon. I need your advice on something else.” After you speak this one of the men you hear approach the room. Holding your hand up to Robin to signal a pause. You watch as the man comes and sets down the try before you thank him and resume the conversation.

“And what might that be?” She asks after settling back on the back rest.

Taking a longer pause you stare empty minded to the window. Eyes looking between the snow-covered pine to the colorless skies. “I am going to leave Pelican Town.”

“Ah…” She looks down to her cup sadly. “I see.”

“It is not a decision I have made lightly. After the knowledge that I have come to know I feel that it may be my only option. Part of the reason I have asked for you to see me today is that I seek your advice on bringing Haley along with me.”

“You wish to bring Haley?”

“Yes. I would like to think of us as nearly friends. She has more than proven herself quite the ladies’ maid.”

“Then I should congratulate you on finding such a person. What of her beau she had found herself?”

“I was hoping you could answer that for me. She had told me some time ago that she heard word that he was to propose to her ‘soon’, but that time has come and gone by weeks. You are far more in the know of what happens in the town itself.”

“Well…” She pauses and leans herself in to allow for a sense of secrecy, “I had heard that he might have thrown her over.”

“He hadn’t surely! When I went to town the day before yesterday she said that she was to visit him!”

“That is why I asked you. Thinking that she would have mentioned something to you, with you keeping her in your employ.”

“I should have like to think so but perhaps you and I have been deceived in her willingness to share her details, especially when it is in regard to this sort of matter.”

“I should say then for you to speak with her on this before you decide that you are to take her away to the city. Where are you set to go?”

“Another topic you have broached much too early into your visit. I was going to have us dine before getting to that.”

“Please, you must allow us to put this business first so we may dine in peace and minor contemplation.”

You laugh, “Yes, I suppose we must. I was to ask you to send a telegram to Mister Acunin for me. I do not wish to go into town, lest I run into Doctor Sullivan.”

“My, his title now. Things really must have taken a turn. I can make a trip out to town after I am completed with my duties tomorrow. What is it that you would like me to send?”

“I wish to ask for some sort of refuge. I must leave this town and I will not let myself go back to my husband.”

“Why? What has happened with your husband and the doctor that you must refuse the both of them?”

“I will make a terribly complicated matter as simple as I can.” Robin leans forward again as you speak much more hushed than previously.

“My husband has known that my treatment is completed and has found himself in business with a whorehouse. The doctor was complicit in my husbands’ doings and refused to me access to my medical information. To put it plainly.”

“I don’t even know what to say to that. Goodness, I couldn’t even imagine what you might be going through. Who else knows of this?”

“Aside from you?” You heave another sigh after taking a drink from your cup. “Doctor Sullivan, clearly, and Haley. Haley is the one who found the telegrams from the doctor to my husband that detailed my course of treatment. I would imagine that the Western Union operator knows just from the telegrams alone. Is that Pam who is employed there?”

“Yes, Pam is the one who works the telegraph in town. I will talk to her tomorrow to see what she may know if you would like for me to?”

“I would be grateful if you had. Robin, you are truly sent from the stars. I could never thank you enough for all that you have done for me since I’ve come to stay here. I should really ask for your servicing to this cottage for more additions. As a thank you I mean.”

Robin laughs. Reaching her arm across the table to settle her hand on yours. The warmth from her palm sinks into the top your hand. Looking to her face once more you look for any easily read emotion only to find she looks serious.

“You are my friend, and I am happy to help you in any way that you may need. No thanks nor are you at all inclined to feel indebted to me.”

“You are far too kind to me.”

“And at this very moment you are deserving of it.”

_

The lunch with Robin ends quicker than you would have liked. She links her now gloved hand in yours before she bids you farewell. Watching as she leaps onto her horse with such ease before setting off. You watch Robin through the window until you can no longer see her and all are left are fresh horse tracks in the snow. As you turn from the window you see the tea platter still set on the table. Letting out a defeated sigh you make your way to bring it to the kitchen yourself.

 The afternoon sets smoothly as usual. After the minor cleaning from the drawing room, you find yourself in your room to write in your diary. Usually, an evening activity but the thoughts racing through your mind warrant an entry. After speaking with Robin, you must find a way to get to Boston without your husband knowing you are back in the city. Scanning the script from last night’s entry and feeling the same fresh wound stab once more. The feeling of betrayal sits heavily on your stomach causing more bile to sit in your throat. Choking in a sharp breath you think of the possibilities.

Leaving the men here is optimally the best you can think of. They can’t go back to the big house because that will be a give-away that you are no longer in Pelican Town. Letting them leave could cause them trouble in one way or another and you don’t feel right to just fire them because you had decided to leave. Getting the train ticket will prove easy enough seeing as there is not really any reason for the purchase to get back to your husband. You worry the possibility of him keeping his eye on your from afar. That he has sent word for the ticket master to keep a watchful eye for you and send him word should you leave the town.

Being in Boston will be a whole separate issue once you arrive. Praying that the lawyer will aid you in your struggle is the main thing you are focused on. The voice in your mind speaks to itself as you worry.

But once arriving in the city what will I do? I have money, yes. I have forced this issue faster than Mr. Acunin or his associate might have planned for. I don’t even know how long divorce proceedings take! For god’s sake, get your act together before you give yourself an ulcer!

“Ma’am?” Haleys voice breaks you from your thoughts with a start. Gasping in shock and sitting straight against your writing desk, pen falling to the pages below.

“Yes? What is it? You frightened me terribly!”

“Apologies. I have no other way to say this but Doctor-“ You cut her off by standing suddenly. Chair scraping against the wooden floor.

“Send the doctor away I have no wish to speak to him.” Your tone turns from startled to irritated and angry in the fraction of a second. Haley wishing to be spared from your ire speaks with her hands in front of her.

“I tried that ma’am. He said that he knows that you are in and that he must speak with you.”

“Then tell him that I am sick or asleep or anything else that you can think of to keep him from my sight.”

“I said that you were asleep already.”

“And?”

“He said that he will wait and sat himself in the drawing room.”

“Surely he did.” Spitting your reply as you make haste towards the drawing room. Heavy footsteps clobber against the floorboards as you make your way down the stairs. Feet falling hard against the floor of the hall. As you approach the threshold your furious march ceases. You watch as the back of his head as he registers that it is you before making a sudden standing to whip in your direction.

You thought in this moment that you would be ferociously angry, bordering on violent. He pushed his way into your home after all that has happened. And yet when you look at him you see him. He is as miserable as you in this moment, his face shows it more than your own. His eyes were dark, and his hair messy as though he tried to piece himself together. Your anger melted into sadness upon seeing him. You felt as though the wooden floor you were standing upon was going to swallow you whole.

“Darling.” He speaks softly. Like his voice was trying to climb its way out of his throat but he forced it down.

You can hear Haley catch up behind you looking to her quickly as she gives you a tight-lipped smile. You willed your legs to move anywhere but where you were currently. The soles of your feet felt glued to the ground making you unable to move as you watch him take his first step towards you.

“Doctor Sullivan I am not receiving visitors at the moment. I am going to ask you to leave please.” You force your voice to be as even as possible. You had hoped it sounded harsh against his ears and prompted him to leave you.

“Please, I just need to explain to you what I was saying yesterday.” Harvey pleads to you as he walks closer to where you are standing. You watch each of his feet fall against the floor in a light pat as steps closer to you. Small steps as to not push any boarders.

“Will you let me speak with you? Privately.” Harvey continues his movement until he reaches only an arms distance, his eyes flicking to Haley then back to you. As you stare up at him chest heaving from the tightness of your dress mixed with the pace of which you arrived. You stopped breathing as he takes a final step forward. Harvey’s eyes meeting your own as he beseeches you.

“Please, my love, let me speak to you.” Haley gasps behind you and tugs the back of your dress. You pay her no mind as you continue to make eye contact with the doctor who now stands nearly brushing against you.

_

“My love? What does he mean by ‘my love’?” Haley rushes you into your room. Your shaking hands grip the post of your bed. You lungs are tight as you try to breathe.

“Get this thing off of me!” You yell as you begin to claw your dress in attempt to free you from the heavy winter wool. Haley comes to your aid attempting to loosen the ties of your bodice.

“Do not dodge me! What changed that he calls you my love?” Haley sounds angry as she speaks to you in a harsh voice.

“We both have our secrets Haley. Do not start with this. My heart is broken at the moment, and I do not wish for you to make it worse.” Your own voice come through as though it may as well been shaking with you.

“May I speak frankly, ma’am?” She stops tugging on you to let her hands fall to her side.

“For God’s sake I wish you would. Hurry and get this thing off of me!” She lifts her hands to your back once more.

“I’m trying, you need to stop moving!” She tugs at the ties a little more aggressively and pulls the last of the lacing free. “I need you to breathe!” She spins you towards her.

“Look at me.” Turning your head to meet her eye with her hand. “Did you fall in love with Harvey?”

You choke a sob upon seeing her face, “Yes.”

“Fool.”

“I beg your pardon?” The tears that were threating to fall dry within a single second.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I will tell me as soon as you tell me what happened with your gentleman.” Haley looks shocked as she falls silent.

“He said he doesn’t love me.”

“Oh Haley. I’m sorry.”

“No, do not apologize. I am 23 years old and I can handle myself with ease. I will be alright.”

“I do not apologize for that. I say sorry because I fear I have forced it from you when you were not ready to tell me.”

“I wasn’t. It happened the night we were in town. He said he was glad I was there and that he has something most important to tell me. So I came into his home and he informed me that our relationship could not continue. That is all I have to say about it as of now.”

“Haley.”

“Please. I do not want to hear you speak another apology.”

“That wasn’t what I was to say.”

“Then continue.”

“I want you to come with me to leave Pelican Town and go back to Boston.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Yes, and I want you by my side.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you will.”

“But my sister.”

“Emily is 30 years old. There should be no reason for you to stay here. She has a job just as you do and is fully capable.”

“I don’t think we’ve ever left each other before.”

“Go home and talk to your sister. Let me know your answer come tomorrow.”

“But what of the evening?”

“I think I can dress myself for one evening. Go, and I will see you in the morning.”

[teddypoi-qd]

{ID - designs for each of the Stardew Valley bachelors and Krobus, after about 10 years, each with some notes next to them.

Alex - Alex has a beefy figure and scruffy hair, as well as stubble. He wears a rugby jumper with a collared shirt underneath, as well as grey trainers. Notes: Early 30s; Made peace with not going pro but NEVER gave up on Gridball. He's the proud couch of the Pelican Town little league team!; Peak suburban dad. He's taking your ass to cheesecake factory; Drops by Granny Evelyn's every week to make cookies with her :); Gets the guys together at the farm every weekend to do informal cardio sessions. if you see Pierre lying face down in your crops that's normal. Don't worry about it.

Elliott - Elliot has a lean figure with broad shoulders. He has light stubble and his hair is longer, styled half-up in a bun. He wears an open shirt tucked into green trousers, and a long red coat over his shoulders. He also has rectangular glasses. Notes: Late 30s; His books are WILDLY successful but he uses a pseudonym so he can stay on the farm and enjoy his privacy with you ;) ; He, Willy, and LEah started a secret cooking club with Gus. They like to debate seafood; Happy to report he still has not left his honeymoon phase. He's writing sonnets about you!!; May try and follow you into Skull Cavern to get "stoy inspiration from a real adventurer." Do not let him do this he will fall on his ass and cry

Harvey - Harvey has a rounded figure and a scruffy moustache. He hair is going slightly grey. He wears a green jumper over a white shirt and orange tie. Notes: Mid 40s; Still running the clinig, his work/life balance has improved dramatically!; Stopped charging you money everytime you die in Skull Cavern. Now you pay by getting a very stern, emotional lecture from him instead >:( ; Please use your farm profits to subsidise his model plane building. He will love you forever; Still a little anxious from time to time, but finds it a lot easier to cope when he gets to come back home to you every night :')

Sam - Sam has a slim figure with a soft tummy. He has long wavy hair held back with a headband, stubble, and a lot of body hair. He wears an open black jacket with nothing underneath, scruffy ripped jeans, and a lot of ear piercings. He is doing an air guitar. Notes: Early 30s; Has found genuine fulfilment from being a househusband! He does chores now :3 ; Not only did he finally learn to cook, he got REALLY good at it. Like "Gus wants to take him on as an apprentice" level good; Still makes music as a solo indie artist! He likes creating at his own pace; Still a little sloppy. But we love him

Sebastian - Sebastian has a slim figure with a broad chest. He has top surgery scars. His long hair is tied back in a ponytail and he has slight stubble. He wears a nose ring and a black stud earring, and he has black nail varnish. He wears a purple dressing gown, black shorts, and lilac slippers. He smiles softly, holding a mug with a frog on it. Notes: Late 20s; Full-time Game Developer, currently working on a cute little 2D farming sim inspired by his life with you :) ; Uses his experience from his motorbike to fix up anything broken around the farm; Taken a genuine interest in herpetology. Has a whole load of frog-themed items around the house and even a few books from his stepdad; Very happy to stand in the rain with you and then go inside and snuggle <3

Shane - Shane has a rounded, but also muscly figure. He has a lot of arm hair and a scruffy stubble. His hair is messy. He wears a green t-shirt with a little chick image with a caption that says 'chicks dig me'. He also has a blue shirt tied around his waist, and wears brown wellies. He is carrying three chickens. Notes: Early 40s; Full time chicken farmer! If he's not helping you he's working with Marnie; Coming up on 10 years sober, always takes his meds and keeps himself healthy for both of your sakes :) ; Cannot go more than 2 minutes without making an egg joke. He can't stop cracking them. He's finally come out of his shell; Still enjoys watching a gridball game and sharing a pizza with you. It reminds him of your first kiss!

Krobus - Krobus is exactly the same, aside from the fact he is wearing a grey t-shirt that has the aroace flag on it, captioned with simply the word, 'KILL' Notes: Gave him a shirt; No notes. I can't improve perfection

END ID}

I want to thank everyone so much for the support on my timeskip bachelorette art!!! Glad you were all excited to see the boys. Hopefully I didn’t keep you all waiting too long and hopefully I did them justice! Here they are! (and Krobus)

[thirsty4theextraordinary]

Everything Burns - Chapter 15

Pairing: Ledger Joker X OC

Warnings: Fire, violence, implied violence. 

Word count: 2081

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 l Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14

Chapter 15: Better Class of Criminal

By the time midday came around The Joker and Jester were ready and waiting. He had briefed her on his plan or rather as he called it, 'idea' of going to pay Harvey Dent a visit in hospital.

He had asked Scarlett to get him a nurses outfit so early that morning she had gone home to raid her closet finding one that was given to her by mistake and was far too large.

It was an odd turn her life had taken but she was rather enjoying it and she could no longer see her life any other way, the thoughts of going back to work filled her with dread, but the thought of a life without Jack was even worse.

She had agreed to go with him and a few of the 'boys' to the meeting with the mob that afternoon, to pick up the Joker's payment.

Jester prepared herself to leave as she pulled on her boots, the boys switched on the TV and something caught her ear. With one boot on and the other off she hurried over in an odd limp-y fashion and snatched the remote out of the goon's hand before turning the channel back to what it was just on.

On the TV was the usual news anchor for GCN and below him was the caption.

Later on GCN

REVEALED: BATMAN'S TRUE IDENTITY

In the upper left corner of the screen was a video link to another man.

"He's a credible source, an M&A lawyer from a leading consultancy. He says he's waited as long as he can for Batman to do the right thing. Now he's taking matters into his own hands. We'll be live, at 5, with the true identity of the Batman. Call in at 5 to have your say." Said the News anchor and Jester quickly pulled on her other boot before running to tell Joker.

"So he knows who the Bat really is and he's going to broadcast it on TV," clarified Joker, looking up at her from behind his desk, she simply nodded. He burst out into hysterical laughter and she was a little taken aback. She had expected him to be pleased but not this happy, but then this was Jack and he didn't do things by half measures.

"Well you said there was a number do you remember it?" he asked and she nodded he held out a pen and scrap of paper and she wrote down the number that had come up on screen.

"Well done Jester!" he said laughing again before he pocketed the number and stood pulling on his coat.

At 3 thanks to the Joker's police 'connections,' they were told about Maroni going to see Gordon. They knew he had ratted them out, having told Gordon where The Joker was going to be. The 'boys' were sent on a small errand after that to fill the basement of Gotham General with a large amount of ammonium nitrate. They had it rigged up within the hour but were not back in time for the meeting so The Joker and Jester were left with just four goons. The hospital explosion would be the distraction they needed to get the cops off their backs while they paid Harvey a visit.

She was surprised how quickly the Joker could get things done, and it was somewhat of an honour to witness him at work.

He caught her staring at him when he got off the phone with one of the goons and shot her a quizzical look.

"What?" he asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Nothing. It's just awe inspiring to watch your brain work. I mean less than an hour ago you were told about a police ambush and already you have a way out and a pretty spectacular one at that. I just forget sometimes that you are an absolute genius" she said and he chuckled.

"Come on, let's go check on our guest," he said, as he walked past her his hand ran along her side, it was some kind of a habit now.

After a night in the boot of a stolen cop car, Lau was surprisingly well, and Jester squeezed his cheek playfully when they opened the boot to make sure he wasn't dead, yet.

The meeting with the mob was on a container ship, the money was already there and waiting. At 4 they left for the meeting, knowing full well the police were planning their ambush.

They arrived at the docks just past 4 and The Joker jumped out the van before offering a hand to Jester which she gladly took. The goons followed behind with a bound and gagged Lau. The docks were empty apart from the enormous red coloured container ship. It was enormous and Jester looked around the ship curiously. There must have been thousands of shipping containers all stacked at least ten high. As a door to one creaked slightly, something snapped inside of Jester and she stopped in her tracks. She couldn't tell if she wanted to laugh or cry. Joker turned back to look at her, watching the turmoil going on inside her head. The sound of a chainsaw motor rumbled in her ears. 

"Come on Jester," he said and she seemed to come back to herself, a twisted grin spreading across her face. She skipped over to him laughing slightly to herself.

He led them down into a large room within the container ship, in the middle of the room was a huge pile of money. It must have been at least half a storey high and spread out across much of the room.

"Put him on the top" the Joker said to the goons motioning to Lau, and they dragged him up quickly. Either Lau was stupid or very clever as he did not struggle as the Joker climbed up the pile behind the goons with a chair. He placed it on the top and the goons pulled Lau into it before the Joker dismissed them and left them to go look out for the Chechen.

He began to tie Lau, who was now dressed in a straight jacket to the seat.

"He's here" shouted the voice of the goon no less than a few minutes later and the Joker looked up from his place, before ducking back down to continue tying Lau to the chair securely.

Jester stood back to lean on the wall as she heard footsteps approaching. The Chechen was a skinny man with a shallow face and sharp features and he smiled disgustingly at Jester as he entered the room.

"Not so crazy as you look." said the Chechen loudly to the Joker who began to stand up on top of the pile.

"I told you, I'm a man of my word," said Joker standing up fully, on top of the pile of money before he patted Lau on the head sarcastically and jumped down the pile, sliding down most of it to come to a standing stop in front of one of the goons. He looked back at the money as piles of it slid down in his wake.

"Where's the Italian?" the Joker asked though he knew full well that Maroni would not be coming.

"I don't know, but he's not here so he doesn't get a share. We go 50/50" said Chechen in his broken English. The Joker shrugged at this before picking up wads of money and beginning to launch them up at the Lau hitting him in that face a few times.

"Please" Lau begged and Jester laughed loudly as yet another wad of money hit him.

"Joker-man, what you do with all your money?" asked the Chechen pointing to the pile with his lit cigar.

"You see, I'm a guy of simple taste," said the Joker turning to the Chechen.

"I enjoy... dynamite … and gunpowder... and gasoline," he said the last one much louder than the rest. The Joker took a step back, as a goon with a gas can came in and began to soak the bottom layer of cash in petrol.

"What the...?" exclaimed the Chechen rushing towards the goon angrily.

"Ah, dah, dah. dah." sung the Joker pointing his gun at the Chechen who stopped dead in his tracks.

"And you know the thing that they all have in common?" the Joker asked the Chechen approaching him again.

"They're cheap," he said with a slight growl in his voice. Jester glanced down at her phone, checking the time, it was just past 5, and she shot the Joker a meaningful look.

"You said you were a man of your word," said the Chechen , the cigar in his mouth causing him to slur.

"Oh, I am." said the Joker before he pulled the cigar from the Chechen's mouth. He held the cigar up blowing on the end a few times.

"I'm only burning my half," he said before he turned and threw the cigar at the petrol-soaked pile of money. It was engulfed in flames in seconds and Lau began to wiggle in his restraints. The Chechen face went grey and he looked at the burning cash in horror.

"All you care about is money." spat the Joker to him.

"This town deserves a better class of criminal... and I'm gonna give it to them." said the Joker, his face close to the Chechen's.

"Tell your men they work for me now." said the Joker poking the Chechen hard in the chest with his gun.

"This is my city," he said and the Chechen moved his face away.

"They won't work for a freak," the Chechen said.

"Freak." mimicked the Joker making fun of the Russian's accent.

"Why don't we cut you up into little pieces and feed you to your pooches? Hm?" the Joker said as he brought his knife out and waved it in front of the Chechen's face.

"And then we'll see how loyal a hungry dog really is." shouted the Joker, as a tow of the Chechen men came up behind the Chechen and held a blade to the Russians throat, before pulling him away.

"It's not about money, it's about sending a message." muttered the Joker to himself, before he pulled his phone out his pocket and began to dial.

"Everything burns" he cried loudly as Jester began to laugh.

"I had a vision" began the Joker into the phone, after a few moments Jester moved over to him and began to play with the buttons of his waistcoat.

"Of a world without Batman. The mob ground out a little profit and the police tried to shut them down one block at a time. And it was so boring! I've had a change of heart. I don't want Mr Reese spoiling everything but why should I have all the fun? Let's give someone else a chance. If Coleman Reese isn't dead in 60 minutes then I’ll blow up a hospital" said the Joker before he hung up and pushed his phone back into his pocket. He looked down at the raven haired clown still playing with the buttons of his waistcoat.

He reached out and pulled her chin up so she was looking at him before his arms moved to encircle her waist, he leant in and kissed her hard and she let out a squeal of delight. He bit hard on her bottom lip, drawing blood and she grinned at him.

"Come on gorgeous," he said, taking her hand in his and leading her away from the flaming pile of cash.

The Joker really was a man of his word as before they left the ship, he did indeed chop the Chechen up into little pieces and feed him to his beloved Rottweilers.

"Can we keep them?" Jester cooed as she knelt down and stroked one's head as it ate lumps of its old master.

"You want to?" The Joker asked as she began to scratch the dog behind the ear, causing its back leg to kick strangely.

"Yes, please, they're so cute and they are trained as attack dogs, they could be useful," she whined looking up at him with big eyes.

"Sure, put the dogs in the van," the Joker said, turning to his new men, who without question led the three enormous dogs away.

"Thank you," she said getting up and moving closer to him.

"Anything for you" he purred against her ear as he brought her close to him again.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you so much for reading, sorry it took me longer to post this chapter but things have been a bit mad at home recently. Hope you enjoying please, please like and reblog. 

[varls]

Title: About Courage Chapter: One Characters: Reader and her family Pairing: Blake x female Reader Request: Not sure where to put this and idk if you have any use for this but I need to get this off my brain. I had this idea: the reader dressed up as a man to go to war instead of somebody from her family (Mulan-Style if you want) and Tom Blake finds out. Again, idk if you want to make it fluffy or angsty or if you want to use it at all. I just needed to get it of my mind and I like your writing/blog a lot so here you go. — anon Summary:  Two of your brothers already died during the Great War and you could see your mother getting sadder and more desperate every day. When your youngest brother is referred to as missing, you make the decision to go to France as well, to find him and bring him back home. But when you arrive, you soon realise you may have not thought it through. Acting like a man isn’t as easy as it sounds and Lance Corporal Blake is a lot smarter than most other men. Warnings: none Word Count: 2.642 A/N: I never planned on making a multiple chapter fic for 1917, but here I am. I will only post this on Tumblr so all I ask for is, that this fic won’t be reposted anywhere else. Also, this first chapter will only include the reader and her family. Just to explain how she got to France. Tom will appear in chapter two.  Special Thanks To: @rubinstein1798, who’s an amazing proofreader. I’m so glad you’re doing this. 

Until the 28 July 1914, you were living a happy life. Your family wasn’t rich nor poor. Still, you had everything your heart desired. Worries seemed so far away that you would have never believed in the things that were about to come in the next following years. You were your parent’s only daughter. Then they were Harvey and Milton, your older brothers and Finley, your twin brother. You barley ever argued with them. Milton was a little annoying sometimes, but just in ways, every older brother was. Harvey was a nice man. One of the kinds every girl dreamed of. Cunning, kind and strong. He was intelligent but not as smart as Finley. Your twin was a very quiet person. You could nearly always find him sitting on the armchair in the living room, reading one of his many books. He and mum would spend hours sitting there in silence — him reading, her knitting. Your father spent a lot of his time at work. The only times you’d see him was in the late evenings and on Sundays. But he liked it that way. He loved his job and valued the time with his family even more than most other men who’d be at home more often than him. You always knew you had an extraordinarily beautiful family. There has never been a day on which you weren’t thankful for them. But things changed on the 28 July, when you felt the ground falling from underneath your feet. As the war started your father was one of the first ones who had to leave to fight — alongside Harvey and Milton. It was a devastating day for all of you. You still remember your father’s pale face and the sadness in his eyes as he was caressing your cheek, telling you everything would be fine again and that he’d come back soon. In March 1915 your mother received a letter. A letter which made her cry as she took the framed photograph of your father from the stack and vanished into her room. It was at this moment you and Finley realised your father wouldn’t come back. It took your mother three days to come back to both of you. She would still seem a little absent from time to time, but you never said a word about it. As always you let Finley and your mother sit quietly in the living room. The radio was silent for once. No one dared to turn it on. It wasn’t until February 1916 when you received another letter. This time it was you the postman handed it over to. There was a sad look on his face. You didn’t want to know how many of these he had to hand out every day. Probably far too many. This time it was Harvey who didn’t make it. You were beginning to feel anxious. Milton was now the only one left. That meant until April when Finley would finally be old enough to leave home and to join the Great War. You couldn’t say these to words without sounding disparaging. There was nothing great about this war. Young men were dying every day and for what?

The day Finley had to leave was horrible. Your mother was screaming, crying, begging him not to go. She looked like she’s gone mad. It took all your strength to hold her back as Finley was joining seven of his classmates. The uniform didn’t seem to fit him. And he wasn’t wearing it with pride like the others. It hurt how much he reminded you of your father. The following weeks seemed to be a lot longer than they used to before. Your mother barely ever spoke a word. She wouldn’t leave the house anymore, while you were strolling through the nearby forest more often. The feeling at home was oppressive. Being outside alone, breathing fresh air made you feel a lot better. Just cleaning your head until you’d go back to your mother. You felt like it made no difference if you were there or not. It was like your mother was gone as well. A huge part of her seemed to have died alongside your father and Harvey. So you wrote a few letters to your brothers, but they never responded. You weren’t sure if they couldn’t answer or if the letters simply didn’t reach them. You couldn’t wait for Christmas when both of them would come home for a few days. You missed them terribly. And you were just as worried as your mother. Maybe she’d feel better if she saw them again. Though you were already afraid of when she would have to say goodbye again. But the war wasn’t kind to your family. In September 1916 it was Milton who lost his life at the German front line. And in November you received a letter saying that Finley was missing in action. You mother suffered yet another mental breakdown. It was worse than ever before. You hadn’t had the time to mourn Milton’s dead or to worry about Finley. To take care of your mother, so that she would eat and sleep and take the medicine she got from the doctor took all your strength. In the end, it was too much to handle and so you finally wrote a letter to your uncle.

Chester Thompson was your mother’s older brother. He was one of the few men who didn’t have to go to war. He was leading a big cloth mill. Of course, he delivered the fabric for the soldiers’ uniforms. That was his duty during this time of war and you know he was glad that he hadn’t had to leave home. After he received your cry for help he didn’t hesitate. He would send you and your mother a car that would bring you to London, where he lived in a mansion outside of town. He told your mother in a letter that it’d only be for Christmas and that she wouldn’t have to stay for long, knowing that otherwise, she would have declined his offer. The truth was, he was going to get her to stay longer than just a few days. If necessary until the end of the war. He loved his sister dearly and just wanted to make sure she’d feel better soon. That she’d be able to live on her own again.

It was Christmas eve and you were sitting in the living room with Chester and his son. Your cousin was a bit younger than you and Finley. Smaller and very thin, he still looked like a thirteen-year-old boy. But soon it was his turn to leave home to fight for his country. Just by looking at him everyone could tell he wouldn’t last long. You felt sorry for him, but there was nothing you could do to help. “Your mother really doesn’t look well.” Chester broke the silence between the three of you while lighting his pipe. You finally looked up at him again. He was wearing an expensive suit, but he didn’t put much effort in his hair today since a few grey strands would fall into his face as he leaned over a bit. His hair was just as curly as your mother’s. “It was a wise decision to write to me. I haven’t heard from her in a long time. But you know me, (y/n). I’m not worried about something until I know for sure there’s a reason to fret.” “Father always tried to make mother write to you, but she always refused to do so. She said you should be the one to speak first,” you explained with a tiny frown on your forehead. You haven’t seen your uncle a lot in all your life, so you always thought he and your mother wouldn’t get along. But a soft laugh escaped his lips. “That’s exactly what has always been the problem between me and your mother. We’re both too stubborn to make the first move.” Sometimes adults made no sense. You couldn’t imagine not speaking to your brothers. You could be stubborn, too, from time to time, but not like this. You always tried to be as honest as possible. And if you missed your brothers, you told them. Just like you told them when they were being annoying. To not talk to them simply because you were waiting for them to talk first… That just sounded weird to you. It was silent again. You looked away from your uncle to watch the snow falling outside the window. It looked beautiful. Was it snowing in France as well? You let your mind wander. You know it was possible that you lost everybody except for your mother and yet… “Ches? Do you think, Finley could still be alive?” you spoke quietly. If you wouldn’t have spoken to your uncle directly one would think you were talking to yourself. Chester didn’t answer right away. He puffed on his pipe. Now he was the one frowning. Your cousin was moving on the couch as if he was feeling uneasy. You know it wasn’t a nice topic to talk about on Christmas. But hell, you should have been here with your brothers, your father… But they weren’t here. Even your mother prefered to go to bed early instead of spending some time with you. Yes, it made you sad, but you were also feeling anger. This damn war was destroying your entire life. You still didn’t know what you’d do if it ended. You never thought about a life without your family. All of this wasn’t meant to happen. “Well,” your uncle began to speak slowly. “He’s missing in action, right? They didn’t find his body. He could still be alive. But…” Oh no. You didn’t like the word but at all in this case. “Where could he be? Maybe he ran away. You know, many young men flee from the war. Or maybe his body just hasn’t been found yet.” “Excuse me, please.” It was your cousin who stood up at a pace that nearly made you jump. You looked at him through wide eyes. “I’m heading to bed. It’s late and I’m tired. Good night, father. Good night, (y/n). I hope you’ll sleep well.” And with that, he vanished into his room. Your uncle and you stayed silent until you heard a door being slammed shut. Chester sighed. “You have to excuse Charlie’s behaviour. He’s not feeling well for a couple of weeks now.” “He’s scared,” you stated. It wasn’t even a question. “Yes, very much. He believes he will die as soon as he arrives in France. He… He-” Chester’s voice left him. The older man closed his eyes. You could feel his pain as if it was your own as you were watching him from your seat opposite of him. He was going to lose his only child. You knew he didn’t have much hope for him from the way he spoke about Finley. He was trying to be optimistic, but he couldn’t. Charlie was going to die in just a few weeks. The training at the barracks wouldn’t help him. Chester already told your mother in private that Charlie’s skills weren’t improving. As if his mind resisted learning something that could harm others. Charlie had one week left at home. Just one week. Finally, you stood up as well. “I’m going to bed, too, uncle.”

It was a terrible 25th December. Yes, all of you were handing out Christmas Presents, but no one was as happy or joyful like it should have been. None of you got, what you really wanted. All four of you wished for things which were impossible to give. But you had an idea. A foolish one that could go awfully wrong, but… Maybe it could save your brother and Charlie’s lives. Just as expected you stayed longer at your uncle’s place. One week passed and finally the day you were waiting for came. It was early in the morning and Charlie just went to the bathroom to get ready. You’ve seen him walking through the floor. His legs and hands were shaking. He was so scared. It would be a lie to say you weren’t, but you felt like you needed to do this. Not just for yourself, but also for the rest of your family. Chester and your mother went to church. Probably to pray for Charlie before they would have to come back to say goodbye. So it was just you and the boy. Carefully closing the door to your bedroom, you sneaked over to the bathroom. Nobody seemed to have noticed the missing key you took the night before. Now you used it to lock Charlie up in the bathroom. You hated yourself for doing this, but otherwise, he’d probably stop you from following your plan. “I’m sorry,” you whispered to yourself, before walking away to get into your cousin’s room. His uniform was spread out on the bed. It was clean and neat, ready to be worn. Your hands touched the fabric carefully. Were you really going to do this? You knew the risk. You knew it was going to be dangerous. And you had no training at all. But all you wanted to do was to find Finley. To make sure he was alright. And if your family would play along, it would give Charlie a little more time to stay at home. He wouldn’t have to die. You took a deep breath. You still could have changed your mind, but there was no going back for you. You needed to do this. You had to try. So you took on Charlie’s uniform. To your surprise, it fit you perfectly. You even managed to hide your breast by binding them. You also spend the night cutting your hair. It was short now. Looking into the mirror you found there was not much left of you. You looked like a boy now. And that’s exactly what you wanted.

A sudden and loud noise made you jump. It was Charlie. He was banging his fists against the bathroom door, screaming for help. Again you felt guilty for locking him up so you ran through the floor to talk to him. You knew you had to leave. Your mother and uncle would come back soon and you needed to be gone until then. “Charlie, I’m sorry,” you said as your hands touched the wooden door. “I can’t let you out.” “What? Why?” Your cousin sounded like he was having a panic attack, which did not necessarily make this whole situation easier for you. The uniform felt just as heavy on you as the guilt. “I’m going to find Finley. And… And you are going to have some more time at home,” you tried to explain, knowing what you said sounded insane. “(y/n), what-” “Just hide, okay? Don’t let anybody see you’re still here or we’ll both be in great trouble.” Your voice was shaking. “(y/n), you can’t just-” “Goodbye, Charlie… And good luck.” You let go of the door and turned your back on it as you were walking down the hallway to leave the house. You could hear Charlie screaming your name. He punched his fists against the door again, but it wouldn’t stop you. You were certain to do the right thing. You stopped abruptly in front of the chest of drawers. There was an old picture. It showed your uncle and your parents. Your mother was holding a baby. It must have been Harvey. You touched the cold glass of the picture frame. They all looked so happy. Your eyes filled with tears, but you didn’t allow yourself to cry. Charlie’s screams seemed far away. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you whispered again before stepping out into the freezing cold.

[awastelandheart]

@mirrcrspeaks asked: Fathers (for the drabble prompt !!)

                                                 send me something to drabble about

          there have been only a couple father figures in Sebastian’s life, when he actually thinks about it   ( which he is now prompted to do, as the adoption search starts hitting as reality rather than a far-off dream ).   what did he know about being a father ?   jack shit, obviously   --   so who could he turn to for help ?

          Demetrius was immediately out of the question. while he may have been seen as a good father to Maru,   &   even if their relationship had become less strained in the last final months he had lived in that tomb of a house   ( which he’ll attribute to his wife elevating his mood ),   the scientist had never done him a favor   --   &   Sebastian is well aware of the honor it’d misplace if he turned to him now for advice.

          he could, of course, just rely on his mother’s input but he had been pushing for her   &   his wife to get closer   --   mother’s intuition or whatever. it felt more natural, somehow, for those two to be rubbing elbows. it’d be almost emasculating, he thinks, to curate a mother’s understanding of parenthood when he’s supposed to be the father figure.

          who else then   ...

          though he had grown up alongside Abigail, Pierre had seemed as distant to her as Demetrius had been to him. it made them wonder sometimes, but at the end of the day, the shop-keep was maybe the last on Sebastian’s list to consult.

          in a similar vein   &   yet on the other, more positive hand, Sebastian remembers a time when Kent, Sam’s father, had been someone he looked up to   --   not to say the war hero wasn’t someone he didn’t admire to this day, but it had been different back then. on hot summers, Kent had taken Sam to the desert, something about seeing the oasis at its peak;   a few times, Sebastian had turned up at their house in time to tag along. the early morning had a chill to the air that made the way they snuck into Kent’s car quietly as to not wake the neighbors feel like a secret, but he had always regretted taking his hoodie once the sun came up.

          looking back on it, Sebastian can tell Kent had pitied him in the way good fathers always feel bad for lost sons   --   though it was many years until Sebastian had started going by Sebastian   &   would’ve been seen as a son instead of a daughter, it was basically all the same. during festivals Sebastian had preferred sitting at Sam’s table instead of his own family’s;   Jodi made sure there was room   &   smiled apologetically at Robin across the way   --   the redhead really never seemed to mind.

          Kent was a good man   &   Jodi was an equally good woman for making space in her family for him over the years. they were both people Sebastian had seen first hand aid in Sam’s growth   (  &   he had always thought Sam was a significantly better person than he was ).   though of course when Kent had left for the war, both of them a little too young to really know what was going on, it had thrust that man-of-the-house role on Sam   ...

          Sebastian, now a man himself with a child on the way, can appreciate the family dynamics that had surrounded him his whole life with a severeness he never expected. in the midst of it, feeling ostracized by his own family, it hadn’t occurred to him how anyone else in the situation may have felt   --   how lonely Maru must’ve been growing up without her brother, how burdened Jodi may have felt, having to call Robin on the nights Sebastian refused to go home in favor of sleeping on her couch, how snubbed, even, Vincent may have felt   &   may still feel at the unexpected sibling-like presence he had created in a household already strained by the absence of Kent.

          bitterly, now, Sebastian sees all this   &   wonders if looking for advice would even be welcomed   --   how anyone involved in his raising can stand the sight of him.

          --   Sebastian exits the house in a hurry, shrugging on his hoodie at the last second, a cigarette dangling from his lips even though he’s well aware he had promised his wife a smoke-free household for the child. with so much anxiety on his mind, it was a moment until he realized someone had been walking down the path towards their front door;   dark eyes adjusting to the light, Sebastian recognizes Jodi behind a box balanced on her outstretched hands. 

          “ Jodi ? ”   he questions, wondering if maybe he’s just seeing things from having stayed inside with his thoughts for too long   --   but soon she’s close enough to be waving, before realizing that’s an awful idea   &   catching the teetering box last second. Sebastian rushes over, takes the box from her, or at least tries to;   stubborn mother she is, it’s useless to try   &   take all the burden.

          “ i got off the phone with Robin last night, ”   she explains, a little breathless from the walk all the way out of town. the box is heavier than Sebastian would’ve thought it was, but Jodi’s bright smile doesn’t portray any discomfort.   “ she told me you   &   Isabella were looking to adopt ! ” 

          the words sound accusatory, but in a joking matter, implying she’s at least slightly offended he hadn’t told her himself   --   Sebastian’s mind catches up finally   &   he offers a smile, standing there, half holding the mystery cardboard box between them. 

          “ y-yeah, we’ve been going up to the city most weekends, ”   he hadn’t realized how extensive the adoption process would be, it was taking quite sometime   &   they hadn’t even really settled on a kid yet.   “ nothing’s   ...   really final yet, ”   Sebastian meanders, glances down at the box;   the lid folded in on itself in that complicated way he never really learned how to do. he’s curious for what’s inside but more taken aback by the sudden conversation to bother asking.   “ but yeah, we’re looking. ”   he finished, looking back up with a squinting smile.

          “ oh that’s so wonderful ! ”   Jodi exclaims, an arm attempting to reach over for some awkward hug around the box that makes Sebastian cringe inwardly.   “ when Robin told me, i immediately started putting together all of Sam   &   Vincent’s old stuff, ”   Jodi starts putting the box on the ground   &   the gears in Sebastian’s head click   --   oh.

          “ just some old clothes, ”   she continues, kneeling on the ground despite the dirt. again, she’s betraying no discomfort, but from this angle the grey in her hair is more visible. Jodi pulls out tiny baby shirts, toddler jeans, mini sun hats   --   she’s glowing as she holds up a shirt Sebastian vaguely remembers, black with his favorite childhood cartoon hero on the front;   “ i even found some things you must’ve left at the house when you were younger ! ”   Jodi giggles   &   the band around Sebastian’s heart snaps.

          “ i’m sorry, ”   he gasps, having fallen on his knees next to the woman who had a big hand in raising him. his arms had reached out of their own accord   --   for once he’s hugging someone unprovoked, without much thought having gone into the action. Jodi’s sleeve goes damp   &   all Sebastian hears is a quiet gasp;   a pause, then her own arm wraps around him.

          “ oh no, Sebby, what’s wrong ? ”   her voice is so caring, Sebastian’s stomach does flips   “ did i come at a bad time ? ”   she looks around, searching for his wife maybe, or Robin   --   someone that provoked this reaction from Sebastian because it was ridiculous to think old baby clothes could make him cry. Sebastian never cried, even when he tried riding Sam’s skateboard   &   wiped out so hard, Harvey had to stitch up his knee.

          “ --   no-nothing, ”   he wheezes after a few moments of trying to gather himself. he feels worse now, having exploded like that   --   the tears on his cheeks are hot   &   he can’t quite bring himself to look up yet. Jodi’s hand on his back is making the guilt sting;   it’s fall but he could swear he was in the desert again.   “ i was, ”   Sebastian sniffles, lets go of Jodi’s shirt to use his own sleeve against his face.   “ i had just been thinking about you   &   Kent, ”   he explains before clearing his throat, voice soft like he was no older than thirteen again.

          Jodi tilts her head, confused, thinning brows knitted making the wrinkles on her skin more present.

          “ with the adoption process, ”   Sebastian continues, well aware his explanation isn’t making much sense. he keeps his sleeve against his face, as though hiding his expression helped get the words out, though he’s still unable to meet Jodi’s eyes.   “ i   ...   i was thinking about you guys, how i spent so much time there, ”   he gestures vaguely to the direction of Jodi’s house.   “ growing up. ”   Sebastian’s voice cracks   &   it really does feel like he’s just a kid again   --   the unevenness of his tone betraying a natural register he’s spent years avoiding.

          “ oh, Sebby, ”   Jodi realizes where he’s going with it all   &   smiles kindly. she reaches forward, pushes his hair back   &   then lets it rest on the side of his head. though she can’t see much of his face at the moment, she knows what it looks like   --   vaguely like Robin in the shape of his eyes but more so like a man she had never met   ( Robin had showed her pictures one night, wine drunk, years ago at her kitchen table when the she had just moved into the valley   --   Jodi never really got the image of such a dark aura standing next to Robin’s brilliant glow out of her head ).

          Jodi’s a woman well acquainted with grief   &   guilt   --   she’s seen this same apprehension on Sam’s face;   men growing up, she’ll attribute it to. men growing up without much of a mold to fit oneself into. Sebastian had always been much more lost than Sam, much more complicated than Sam, but she can tell they felt the same depth on this issue.

          “ i don’t think Sam ever expressed this to you, ”   Jodi pieces her words together simply, like a bird-song poem. it never seemed like she thought about anything too deeply, until she spoke   --   the trait always took Sebastian aback.   “ but i think he really appreciated having a brother close to his age growing up. ”   she pauses, makes sure she has his eyes because Sebastian had a habit of staring you down without really listening to what you were saying   --   &   Jodi knew that.

          “   &   i enjoyed having another son around the house after Kent went away. ”

          the words washed over him with a relief he hadn’t expected, then again none of this was really expected. the hot tears started pouring down his cheeks again   --   it’s a moment of Sebastian pulling his shoulders in   &   trying desperately to dismiss them with hands covered by his sleeves. it’s another moment of Jodi shushing him, wrapping both arms around him then   &   making sure someone was there to hold him through these growing pains.

[nerddface]

Can’t Even Keep a Bakery Running, (2/?)

Characters: Haytham Kenway, female!reader

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma, death, implied rape.

Word Count: 2219

Notes:I KnoW It'S BeEN A yeAr But I cAn ExpLAIN. Part 2 of... I still don't know. (Part 1, You're here!, more parts TBD).

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He didn’t come back for almost three months.

Snow was falling heavily the evening he returned, and she was hoping she’d be able to get home. Her mind had been coming back to ‘H’ all that day, and what it might stand for.

Henry? Hannover? Harvey? She hoped to God it wasn’t Humphrey. Or maybe it wasn’t any of them. ... Hank?

She was mulling over his name, sweeping up excess flour from her worktable, when her door jingled. For a moment, she groaned — she was still technically open, but it was the tailing minutes of her day, and she enjoyed leaving before darkness fell. Hopefully, whoever had come in would be quick.

“Hello!” she called with what she hoped was a cheerful tone, despite her feet suddenly alerting her to their aching. “I’ll be out in a moment, I’m just tidying up back here.”

She dumped the handful of crumb-y flour into her wastebin and blew off her countertop, gathered a damp cloth on her way out to dust off her hands, and slapped a smile on her face. She was scrubbing in between her fingers as she emerged, ready to greet her customer, but any semblance of words died in her throat as her eyes landed on the navy-clad man leaning against her front counter. He was just as stunningly attractive as last time, if not more, with little snowflakes melting on his shoulders. Y/N felt as though she might melt with them under his smoldering gaze. His tricorn was once more tucked under an arm, hair tied back. The stormy wind outside had blown a couple strands free, and providing him an artistically dishevelled look, and there was a neatly stitched cut on his jawbone, perhaps a week or so old.

“Hello again, Y/N.”

He must have noticed how her face changed because he shifted his weight. “You are quite popular around town. It was not difficult to hear your name spoken fondly from several people.”

“I- ah, wow,” she stuttered, brushing a lock of her long bangs out of her face.

“I digress.” H lifted his hand in a short gesture, and she noticed he held a blackberry muffin like the one he chose last he was there.

“Tuppence?” he inquired. Good memory.  

“Oh, no. Don’t,” she insisted. “I can hardly make peace with the note you left me last time. It’s the least I can do. Anything here you like, on the house. Just put it here and I’ll wrap it all up.” She tapped the counter and tossed her towel over her shoulder.

He lifted a brow and studied her. “You are sure?”

She nodded, but the intensity in his eyes almost made her voice waver. “Absolutely.”

His eyes searched her face for another second before he cleared his throat. “Well, it would be reprehensible to deny such an offer.”

She didn’t have a response, and consciously steadied her breath in the downtime, as he perused.

“It’s getting quite late,” he mentioned, and she looked up to see him glancing back at her from the wall clock on her left. “Are you often open this time?”

Y/N looked back down to retrieve a ribbon. “I was actually preparing to close when you arrived,” she admitted. “But don’t fret over it, it’s always a pleasure to see y—returning customers.”

When he didn’t move to speak, she continued. “By the way, I never learned your name.”

“Haytham,” he answered after a moment. “A pleasure.”

Haytham. Somehow it was... downright accurate. Everything, down to his set shoulders, his gilded clothes, and his hazy, almost cheeky smile said Haytham. He picked up a small pre-bagged sack of ginger snaps, each no larger than an acorn, as Y/N was drifting through her thoughts.

“Those are addictive,” she warned jokingly. “I’ve taken to eating a dozen at a time.”

The smile that graced his lips made her own mouth curl. “I do believe I’m brave enough.” He set it down on the counter and Y/N inclined her head, ducking to retrieve another ribbon, bright yellow this time.

“That’s all?” she asked, tying the little cloth around the neck of the bag. “You’re welcome to anything, really.”

“In favor of a chance to visit you again, that will be all for today.” His grin turned into a smirk more than anything else, and she hoped she wasn’t blushing like she thought she was.

She drew in a breath to hide her nervousness and glanced out the window. “If that’s it, I should get home. You’re absolutely welcome to come by anytime. If you’re early, you might even catch the bread while it’s warm.”

“Of course. I shall enjoy these, I’m sure.” Haytham gathered his treats in his broad hands and granted her a beautiful smile. She waved him goodbye before she gathered her coat and her keys, heading for the door after it jingled shut behind Haytham. The promise of her hearth, waiting at home to warm her, kicked her feet into stepping into the snowdrift beyond her porch after she locked her front door. The wind bit at her cheeks and her hands, and she shoved her keys in her pocket and tucked her hands under her arms. Her coat helped a little, but she’d have frost clinging to her eyelashes before she got home.

Suddenly, a dark cloth shielded her head and shoulders from the frost, and she flinched into a firm chest.

“So sorry.” Haytham’s voice was close to her, raised in volume against the howling wind. “I would be remiss to allow a woman to freeze on her way home.”

Part of her worried; a man with arms (and skills, presumably) like his could likely kill her in a moment. But the rest of her welcomed the slight shelter his cape provided from the frigid winds. She pointed him to her residence, and could hardly feel her fingers fumble for her keys when they arrived.

“Please come in,” she gestured, and shut the door behind him. “I can’t just leave you in the snow.” She found her matches and shed her snow-drenched coat, shivering in the chill of her empty house. The matchbox grappled with her momentarily, as her cold-stiffened fingers couldn’t grasp the matches to get a solid spark going.

She snorted in frustration as she dropped the match in her hand and knelt to pick it up. As she rose, a calloused hand covered hers. She stiffened as Haytham’s warm hands took the matchbox and the match from her, striking it easily. A small flame flickered to life between them and danced in his eyes as they examined her. After what felt like a year but what couldn’t have been longer than a second, he turned from her and lit the lamps in her entryway, using two more matches in the process.

“A-uh, feel free to hang your coat,” Y/N managed after a moment of staring after him, entranced. “I’ll... get a fire started.”

She busied herself with sweeping the ashes in the fireplace away, hearing her new guest step past her to her bookshelf. “You live alone?”

She chose some kindling she’d split earlier that week and gathered it in the center of the pit, then reached for some wood. Maybe it was a poor idea to be readily honest, but he hadn’t given her any red flags yet, other than that thick cross ring. “Yes,” she answered. “My father left my mother when I was six, she never remarried. I lost Beatrice to a British rifle when my family first came to the colonies. My mother couldn’t cope with the loss, and she passed not a year later.”

She struck a match, and her kindling lit quickly. “I’m sorry,” he said, sounding genuine.

“Me too,” she murmured.

In a moment, her wood caught, and her sitting room was brightened by growing flames. She stood, brushing off her hands, and turned to Haytham. “Would you like a cup of tea? I can’t very well let you go out in that weather, not without something warm in you, at the least.”

He inclined his head. “Please.”

She nodded and gestured to the shelved collection before him as she ventured towards the kitchen. “You’re welcome to peruse, if you’d like.”

~

Haytham’s fingers brushed hers again as she handed him his tea, and her heart skipped another beat.

“It’s black. Sugar?”

He shook his head. “No, thank you, love.”

Haytham remained standing, looking over her books, and Y/N took a seat opposite him with her own cup, content to sit in silence.

His eyes wandered across her shelves, and she watched the fire dance and hiss a song to its audience as they spent a few minutes in a comfortable lull. Y/N spent more time inhaling the warm, sweet steam from her tea than she did drinking it, but her guest hadn’t so much lifted his from his saucer yet.

Suddenly he turned, setting his teacup down on the side table. He chose a book tucked into the corner of the far shelf, half-hidden from the light, as if he hadn’t noticed it before. She was mesmerized by his slender fingers as they lifted the book from its shadowy corner.  

Y/N’s heart sank as she recognized it, and downed half of her scalding teacup to hide her discomfort. Haytham ran his fingers along the blood-splattered face cover of the book he held, and when he opened it, he paused.

“What’s this?”

“My sister’s logbook, for her shop.”

He lifted a small sheet of paper from between the first two pages so she could see it, though she could read the lines as well as if they were carved not on the paper but directly on her mind. “And this?”

Her voice quieted. “His name. And his symbol, so I never forget it.”

His eyes met hers with an intensity she hadn’t seen in him yet. “Do you know what it means?”

She didn’t answer him, searching his flickering grey eyes, and said nothing.

This intrigued Haytham, and his head cocked ever so slightly, a thin lock of hair falling over his temple. He looked back down at the sketched symbol, then back up at her. She drew in a breath, shifted her weight and folded her hands over her lap. For a moment she stared into the fire before speaking.

“That man, the redcoat that killed my sister, was one of them. All I know is that they are called Templars and I want nothing to do with them.”

“Why do you have this?”

Y/N hung on her silence for another moment. “Beatrice was even more fiery than me. One of them wished for her hand in marriage, but she was far more concerned with her budding business than the responsibilities of a housewife. She spurned him one too many times, so I am aware. He cornered her in an alley. She didn’t stand a chance.”

Her voice weakened and broke, and a tense, pregnant quiet fell over them. Even the fire took a moment from whispering inside the hearth. Y/N blinked tears from her eyes, just like every other time she re-lived the memories.

“I was young and brash, then,” she continued. “I wanted vengeance, so I looked for someone to help me. When I came to the ... Assassins, they’re called, I was told there was nothing they would do that would not give them away to their enemy.” She took a short breath, staring into her teacup as though Beatrice’s face would show itself in the swirling liquid. “The Assassins idled while my sister was murdered and refused to help me find the Templar responsible. She died because of their fight.”

“Surely keeping this must be painful for you,” Haytham lifted the book in his hands. “Isn’t it a reminder of your sister’s death?”

“That’s why I keep it,” she explained, standing still as a deer in sights, and watching the firelight dance on the dried splatters. “I’m forced to remember her, even as life returned to normal. I keep it so I remember whom I can trust... and who I can’t.”

A short huff of cynical laughter made her look up from the book as she came to stand before her guest, and his eyes had a sad kind of twinkle in them, as if what she said struck two different chords within him. She didn’t have the courage to ask about it, but she didn’t need to, nor could she have even if she had the guts, because he shut the book swiftly and tucked it back into its place.

His eyes bore into hers as he spoke, burning into her skull. “I apologise for having intruded upon your time and your tragedy. Thank you for the tea. Hopefully, I will see you again, under better circumstances.”

Before she could react, Haytham retrieved his coat and hat, and left, into the howling wind and swirling snow. His tea remained untouched on the table by the window. Y/N pinched her nose. There was no telling if she would see Haytham again, especially since she pretty obviously voiced her disdain for his organization. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so open with him. Maybe... it was a good evening for an early bedtime.

[merelymedia]

Back in Town Chapter 4

Start from the beginning.

Catch up with the previous chapter.

Mike awoke to find himself in Harvey’s bed. His mind was too muddled with sleep to be very surprised as he worked his way through the night and realized they fell asleep watching the movie. He questioned why he didn’t feel any need to get up and move to the couch before Harvey realized what happened. But if he was honest, it felt nice to have Harvey there. It had been a long time since he and Rachel had felt like a team. He didn’t remember a time in California where he truly believed someone had his back; and that was an exhausting way to live. It’s true that Harvey won’t go out of his way to please someone, but he had proven time and time again that for Mike and those he considered close he would do whatever it took to protect them. Knowing that he once again had someone back on his side, Mike fell back asleep.

***

When Harvey woke he found Mike still fast asleep. He was relieved, and not just because in sleep Mike didn’t look like he was carrying a weight on his shoulders, but also because he wasn’t sure how Mike would react to having spent the night sleeping with his male ex boss. Of course, Harvey didn’t just see Mike as an old employee, he considered him family. After all this time though, he couldn’t be sure Mike felt the same. For a moment he debated if he should make a point of making up the couch to avoid this situation again tonight but something in him fought against it. After a quick shower he got ready for work, left the spare key on the counter, and quietly left for the office.

***

Harvey had been at the office for several hours but had gotten very little done. All he was doing was staring blankly at his screen and worrying about Mike; both about how he was holding up and when he would inevitably leave again. Harvey wasn’t sure why now that Mike was back he found himself anxious to be separated from him. Or why he was scared shitless of him leaving again. Julie would say it was his fear of abandonment, but it felt different. It is true that when Jessica left Harvey took any excuse to go see her, but he never struggled to get back on the plane at the end of his visit. He never went crazy wondering what she was doing as soon as they left the restaurant they met up at. Yes, when Mike left Harvey was upset and realized he should find a new therapist. But that had had more to do with his longstanding issues than anything else. He had missed Mike sure, but had still been able to wish him well and keep things moving at work. Whatever was going on now was something different. It made Harvey feel vulnerable, and he didn’t like it.

Sighing, Harvey decided he might as well accept that he was distracted. Picking up his phone, he justified that if he could just check in and make sure Mike was okay he could go back to actually getting shit done.

“Good morning Sleeping Beauty. Not much food in the fridge, why don’t you come to the office and we’ll grab lunch. Donna would love to see you.”

“‘The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.’ No? Disney references aren’t quiet in my wheelhouse, I must not be as soft as you. I wouldn’t be so sure about Donna, she was Rachel’s friend first. Thanks for the offer but I’m not actually hungry. Anyway, doesn’t you making the big bucks mean you should be working?”

“Don’t you remember anything? Me making the big bucks means I have suckers to do the work for me.”

“So you are finally admitting I did everything and you just sat there and looked pretty?”

“Awh are you calling me pretty?”

“Hey, is it alright if I borrow a towel? Sorry I left Rachel the apartment and all those types of things.”

Harvey for some reason noticed that Mike didn’t actually deny calling him cute but shook the thought away.

“Yeah of course, they are under the sink. Let me know if you change your mind about lunch.”

“Thanks, but I won’t.”

Harvey felt more rejected than he had any right to; after all, Mike was the one who was hurting. The messages did have the intended effect though, Harvey went back to work and made it through his paperwork in a record time. Since he wouldn’t be able to see Mike for lunch, he was determined to get home as early as possible with dinner. The setting sun was casting an orange glow across the office when Donna knocked at the door and let herself in.

“You’ve been holed up in here all day. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you work so hard on paperwork, usually you’ll do whatever it takes to put it off.”

“Just trying to get out of here at a reasonable hour for once.”

“Ah, I get it. Mike is staying at your place and you want to bring him dinner so you can make sure he’s eating.” It wasn’t stated as a question. Up until now Harvey hadn’t stopped to consider why he felt such a strong need to get back to Mike with food; but he was worried. Leave it to Donna to understand his own motivations better than he did. Donna had moved into his office, pulling a chair so close to the desk her knees were against it. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s…” Harvey struggled to find the right words, “getting through. Have you talked to Rachel?”

“Yeah, she’s staying at their apartment in LA. She built more of a home and more relationships there than Mike ever did. Plus I think she accepted where this was going a long time ago. She’s still upset obviously but it’s not as raw for her, she’s had more time to process. She’s doing alright.” Harvey felt slightly guilty over the fact he had never once stopped to wonder how Rachel was doing; and slightly more guilty that even now he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“So is this going to turn into a Team Rachel vs. Team Mike situation?” Harvey asked, remembering Mike’s doubt that Donna would want to see him.

“I don’t think so. Like I said, Rachel accepted this a long time ago. I talked to her today and she asked if I had seen Mike but she genuinely just seemed to be hoping to hear he was doing okay. Rachel will always be my great friend. But Mike is family.

Harvey was relieved to know things weren’t going to become complicated between the three of them, “That’s good to know, because Mike is going to need all the family he can get.”

“Just let me know what I can do, but for now, get your ass home.”

***

Harvey stopped to pick up Chinese takeout. Pulling back on the road he gave a sigh of relief as the tension in his chest which had been making it harder and harder to breathe since he left this morning started to dissipate. It was as if he was a magnet, and all day he had been fighting the pull towards home. But now that he was heading in the right direction, towards Mike, he could finally breathe again.

Harvey couldn’t keep himself from smiling as he balanced the bag of food on one hip while digging out his keys from his pocket. He had always claimed he loved living alone, but he had to admit it felt nice knowing Mike would be there waiting for him.

“Honey I’m home,” Harvey called in a sarcastically sing songy voice. He found Mike on the couch in a pair of sweatpants and an undershirt with a half a glass of scotch in one hand and a book in the other.

“Hey, how was your day?” Mike’s voice was slightly slurred and Harvey examined his face in concern. “You save some fortune 500 company from impending disaster?”

“I wish,” Harvey said as he wordlessly took the glass from Mike’s hand, downing the remaining scotch in one swallow, and poured them both glasses of water before Mike could ask for a refill. “Managing partner is a lot more paperwork than it is bad assery. Szechuan chicken still your meal of choice?” Harvey asked, unpacking the bags and setting the table.

“Is that Ming Wu take out?” Mike asked, his face brightening, fueled as much by the liquor as the food Harvey thought. “That was my favorite!”

“I know,” Harvey answered.

“Any chance you…”

“Got a double order of spring rolls?” Harvey finished waving a package in the air.

“Nice, but did you…”

“Remember extra sweet chili sauce? Of course I did, who do you think I am?”

“A saint. I think you’re an actual real life saint.”

For all of Mike’s excitement about the food, the mood didn’t last long and he only ate a few bites before he started pushing food around on his plate.

“Have you eaten anything today?” Harvey asked.

“Of course, plenty of lawyers’ two largest food groups.”

“Coffee and Scotch don’t count. You need to eat.”

“Careful there Harvey, you’re getting dangerously close to openly caring about me,” Mike taunted playfully.

“I do care about you.”

Mike’s head snapped up at the short confession. It had been a running joke between them since Harvey hired him. But one that Mike never actually expected to win. No one could deny Harvey was protective of Mike, but to actually voice his feelings straight out with no sarcasm or movie references as a buffer, that was a Harvey Mike hadn’t expected to see. “Was that painful for you?” Mike teased gently before his face broke, “Thanks Harvey, with Grammy gone, and now Rachel, it’s just… I don’t have…” Mike couldn’t find it in him to finish the thought and went back to staring at his food.

Harvey had a sudden vision of wrapping Mike in his arms and murmuring to him as many times as it took him to believe it that he was not alone and never would be. He was struck momentarily dumb by how our of character the image was, but he knew he couldn’t let the silence sit. “Mike, I talked to Donna today, and I hope you know that no matter what you will always have family here.”

Seeing that Mike was blinking back tears, Harvey busied himself with cleaning up his dinner to give him some privacy. After a few minutes Harvey tried to lighten the mood. “So I was thinking tonight we could go with Tommy Lee Jones tonight, although the only one I have is The Hunted.”

Mike gave him a small smile and got up to put his still full dinner container in the fridge, “Sounds great.”

Harvey walked in the bedroom and started removing and meticulously hanging up his three piece suit. He walked back to the bed in just his grey boxer briefs and white undershirt. “You might as well take your pants off now so you don’t fall asleep fully clothed again.” Mike wondered if he should question the assumption that they would sleep in the same bed again without so much as a comment about it. He decided to hell with it, the bed was a heck of a lot more comfortable than the couch and he would roll with it as long as Harvey did.

“Woah there, you buy me one dinner and you’re already trying to get me out of my pants?” Mike said tripping a little as he removed his sweats and jumped in bed in his blue striped boxer shorts.

“Fair warning, if I find out you’ve got a tramp stamp you’ll have to find someplace else to stay.”

Mike chuckled, “So let me get this straight: you find out I’m a college dropout drug dealer who is running from the cops and you offer me a job. I get released from prison for committing felony fraud, almost destroying your firm in the process, and you beg for me back. But you draw the line at a little ink?”

“Begged is a strong word, but that’s the gist of it yes.”

“Oh, you absolutely begged.”

“Also, to be clear, it was Jessica’s firm you almost destroyed,” Harvey said teasingly as he pressed play to start the movie.

The beginning of the movie passed in silence, with none of the witty commentary Harvey would expect if Mike was really doing as well as he tried to put on. However, when the movie comes to the confrontation with LT and Aaron both holding knives Harvey sees out of the corner of his eye that Mike is staring determinedly down at the fraying edge of the blanket in his lap with his jaw clenched tight. Harvey realizes that Mike more than anybody could understand what it was like to be on the other side of a knife headed towards you. Remembering Mike’s plea that he couldn’t talk about his time in Danbury, Harvey silently clicked the ‘next scene’ button on the remote. Mike glanced up at the sound of the movie skipping and turned to look at Harvey, who was using all his self-control to keep his eyes on the screen and off Mike’s face. Neither of them commented on it, and when the credits rolled they said quick good nights and laid down to sleep.

Harvey was almost asleep with his back to Mike when he heard his voice say softly,

“You seem different. You sure there’s not some woman you’re keeping from me? You’re allowed to be happy even though my life is a mess.” Harvey rolled over to face Mike.

“There is a woman I’ve been seeing, her name is Julie. But our relationship is purely professional. The truth is when you left I was happy for you. But I was also in the thick of it with Donna and felt alone. There were so many things I didn’t say to you before you left that it left me feeling like I was holding something I wasn’t allowed to put down. It made me realize I needed to keep working on some things and learn how to lower some walls in my personal life, at least a little.”

“I’m really happy you’re doing well Harvey, I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too Mike.”

With that, Mike closed his eyes, and Harvey was free to stare openly at his friend. He couldn’t help but notice how flawless his skin was; with the dewy youthfulness Harvey had started to lose. Watching the way Mike’s lips puckered as he exhaled the slow deep breaths of dreamless sleep Harvey fell into his own slumber.

Read the next chapter. 

[experimentalmadness]

Morning Rush

Ah jeeze, it’s a new OC. Well it’s on old OC that I revamped because I’m absolute garbage and was encouraged to start writing drabbles for my weird girl by @mitsurugireiji Anyway there will probably be more. I apologize ahead of time for unnecessary Batman OCs because apparently I’m still thirteen years old. 

The gun was empty.

But the man sobbing on his knees in the middle of the alley did not need to know that.

Jacqueline watched him through the red-tinted haze of her goggles. The man was on all fours now. He had started with the typical pleas. Spare my life. I have a family. Please, I can get Mr. Falcone the money just give me more time. Jacqueline didn’t even have to say a word. She let him talk until he his words turned to babbling, melted into whimpering sobs.

The suit he wore was worn, she could see patches where someone had obviously hand sewn hemlines back together. Probably a victim of the ongoing recession. Even his briefcase looked worse for wear. This man was probably lucky if he still had money in his savings let alone a 401k deal or a shiny overseas bank account.

He stopped talking when she cocked the gun. The only sound in the empty 5am alley was that of his ragged breathing. Jacqueline took note of the ring on his finger. Married. He hadn’t been lying when he said he had family. That was a shame. This next part was always harder when they had families.

She tugged down on the black kerchief tied around the lower half of her face and crouched before him, tapping the top his head with the pistol. “Listen carefully.”

The man flinched at the feeling of the gun, but his eyes snapped up to hers at the sound of her voice. Maybe he hadn’t guess she was a woman. Maybe he hadn’t thought to care she was human at all. “Leave Gotham.”

“But…I…”

“If you can get to the docks by 6 you can get on one of the ferry boats. Get out. Don’t come back.”

“My kids…”

Kids, not my family, not my wife. Probably divorced. Maybe recently. If the wife was smart she was also out of Gotham by now. Guilt by association tended to follow those that owed powerful men money in this town. Still her gut twisted at the mention of kids. “Get to them if you can.”

He was rising to his feet, hands still warding off the pistol. “Thank you,” he was weeping again.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Jacqueline reached one hand into her back pocket, feeling for the knife she always kept on her for special cases like these. “Falcone wanted two things: money or your head. Since I can’t go back without money I’ll need something in return.”

The knife was against the man’s wrist, with the butt end of the gun jammed into his mouth before he could run. “Please try not to scream.”

***

Jacqueline entered the bakery through the side. It was closer to the backroom closet. She pulled off her goggles, kerchief, hood and sweater, and stripped down before kicking the clothes into the far corner. She exchanged them out of the skirt and blouse she had brought down her hours before she had left for work; track pants for nylons, sneakers for flats.

“Jacky, Jesus Christ, are you in the shop already?”

Damn it. She had hoped Marion wouldn’t get up for at least another half hour. Or maybe she had lost track of time again. A glance at the clock confirmed just how close to opening she had cut her recent job. Grabbing a tightly sealed plastic bag from the floor she shoved launched it into the last fridge, as far far back as she could put it on the top shelf of the freezer. Luckily no one really counted the vats of bread dough but her otherwise someone would have been in for a nasty surprise.

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get some extra loaves going for the early morning rush.” Not entirely a lie. Jacky wondered why Marion never questioned how they perpetually had enough rolls to counter the crush from the downtown nine to fivers. The night shift was good for something at least.

Marion came wheeling down the ramp that led up to their shared apartment. “Coffee” she held up a mug as she let herself roll straight past Jacky. She stopped herself as she curved her wheelchair around the main kitchen counter.

“Stunts.” Jacky grinned at her sister taking a grateful sip from the steaming mug, already sweetened thoroughly with plenty of cream and sugar.

“You haven’t been sleeping well for a while, Jacky.” Marion clicked on the ovens, checked on the fermentation fridges, and never met her sister’s eyes.

Jacky clicked her fingernails over the rim of the mug. “It’s all this coffee you keep giving me.” Leaning down she gave Marion a quick peck on the forehead. “Maybe switch to tea once in a while.” She made her way to the front of the bakery, switching on the main shop lights as she left the kitchen.

“I think you just like getting up early so you can be at the register in time for your favorite customer to show up!”

Jacky choked on her coffee. “Every customer who tips is my favorite.”

Her sister snickered wickedly in the back and Jacky felt her cheeks heat as she mumbled a few pathetic excuses into her mug before flipping the Closed sign by the door to Open. “Morning rush incoming,” she warned, heading back to her place behind the register and the espresso machine.

For a time the bakery was quiet. Jacky finished up her first cup of coffee for the morning as she watched the streets fill with commuters. Grey suits, black suits, blazers, pencil skirts, briefcases all passed by the window in increased numbers as the clock moved from six to seven. She always found a kind of quiet magic in the crushed intensity, the outpouring of people from all over. All tired, eager, done, fresh—never mattered. She knew them all. She was the friendly face they saw in the morning and the tailing shadow that followed them long after they forgot about her.

Marion had started singing to herself as she brought the first trays of baked goods out to add to the glass cases. The smell of fresh bread and muffins wafted out into the cafe making Jacky’s mouth water. She should probably open up the doors and let that invite in their first customers, but she wanted to preserve this little slice of peace for just a little longer—where she was just a girl with a cafe she ran with her sister. And there were no debts owed. No lack of insurance filling up her every thought. And no chilled body parts hiding in the back of the fridge.

The bell snapped Jacky out of her reverie.

She straightened up. Smiled. She did not have favorites. It was just a coincidence who came in first.

“Hey Harvey, what’s it gonna be today?”

[vogel-lynne]

The taste of Rebellion - chapter 14

He survived another week moving from town to town through the countryside, counting only on rare kindness and luck, the day he decided to go back to Glasgow; he felt there was something to be found in the big city and he became unrecognizable enough: his clothes were muddy and his hair was a little longer than in every newspaper photo of him. Practicing with his guitar distracted him from perpetual indigence and kept his glovesless fingers warm.

Monday left him broken

Tuesday was inspirational: he accidentally created a new sequence of sounds and wrote it on a wall using a piece of a red brick.

He found a pen and copied it on his forearm on Wednesday, when he spent all his small change at a Tesco Express.

Thursday he woke up in a flowerbed, whereas Friday his hopes suddenly came back as he heard Liam Rixton's voice from the shop's radio; it usually played rock songs and Johnny sat aside the entrance in order to train his ears.

"I despise the word frontman: a band's structure should always be horizontal. Not hierarchical. There's nae frontrunner among us and every idea is analysed, unlike other bands where everything revolves around the handsome one and talented members get no recognition at all"

"And I don't want any relationship after Maryanne. Nobody compares to HER and the time we spent together. I'm nae interested in any other non-verbal language. I don't need another body to discover and touch. Her brown hair, her hazel hopeful eyes and holding her hand is enough to confirm she was the only one for me!"

Listening to him motivated Johnny to fight on and maybe meet his idol one day, but it was an unachievable dream, although Liam cared a lot about his fans through social networks, photos and autographs. Meeting an inspirational figure happened only in eleven year old girls' badly written fanfictions about Harry Styles.

Later, the radio aired "Fell on Black Days" by Soundgarden, who heavily inspired Liberty together with Doors and early Radiohead. Johnny's brain was so full of song lyrics and fragments he started to write words on his hands in order to make room for new ones.

"Boy! Haven't you got a home?" Asked on Saturday a morbidly fat Indian Tesco salesman.

"No, mister...I'm a lonely boy and I've just a life that keeps me waiting" Johnny was afraid the man could call the police and send him back to the hateful people he left: "ok...ok...I'm gonna leave! Sorry if I couldn't resist!"

"Wait!" The employee showed yellowish teeth under coaly moustache: "we all get used to contexts by ourselves and imitation is an important way to learn"

How could such wisdom come from Britain's lowest class? India was the same ground where the Beatles lived their second phase the fullest: "Sometimes getting lost helps to find new ways and adversity exposes a man's real self..."

He disappeared behind the backdoor and returned with two packed sandwiches for Johnny: "your entertainment will be missed! Good luck, Boy!"

As the young homeless sat down to eat, he pondered about those sentences he would've shut down when he believed only his voice counted and other people were nobody.

Did the street change him? Partly yes, but Liberty actually led him there.

If he hadn't noticed their poster on the wall, he'd still be at school, dreaming to be the next Andy Murray.

The vitreous sliding doors reflected two prominent cheekbones, dark eye bags and uncombable hair still wet after his first rainy day. He was trembling under his khaki parka when he noticed a chocolate brown hair quiff and a pair of observant eyes passing right behind him: "HARVEY!"

The former butler had just left a block of flats. He wore a grey tracksuit and carried a heavy shopping bag that almost broke down: "Johnny?! You shouldn't be here!" He massaged his reddish fingers, surprised to see him standing there.

"If...if I could still call it home...The McGregors have never been my parents! I swear!"

"So come with me!" Harvey owed him something, but was curious as well; he doubted several times about the bond between his masters and their son. Once in his flat, Johnny took a shower and ate something nutritious: "Did'y know about Angus?"

"They never mentioned him. With all evidence, it's the biggest skeleton in their closet"

Johnny told him also about Maryanne, her parents and photos of her with Liam and how they were all connected, but his mosaic was far from being completed. He had some ideas, but discarded them for being too far from reality and were too personal to be exposed.

"It's incredible how fast you entered their world! I always believed it was a random name chosen for musicality instead of a painful secret..."

"Atchoo!!!"

The younger was about to answer when he sneezed four times: "Bless ye!" Harvey wasn't impressed; he could imagine how the fugitive spent those dog days. Luckily Johnny could lie on the sofa wrapped into a plaid, drinking solutions against the flu and having a proper sleep. He tried to cough as silently as possible, for Harvey's block was small and someone could hear him.

He felt like one of the many Jews hiding inside the Jürgens' castle basement during World War 2, when Ralf's great grandfather Werner Jürgens challenged Hitler's laws by transforming his house into a safe way to Switzerland and even arranged false documents for everyone, including the eldest people and the babies. On the walls were still visible their illegible chronicles and thankful messages whereas their descendants kept in touch with the German noble family.

[silverhands-etcetera]

Walking After Midnight.

I am so dehydrated. I took pretty good care of myself for the first three days of the tour. Water, exercise, etc. Things fell off on that first Sunday -what happened then? oh yeah, let’s blame France..

Switzerland was all sunny skies and parasailers as we split from Interlaken. In a couple hours we were back in France, and in a heavy rain out on the highway. We got a tray of sandwiches from the gig, so we avoided paying Switzerland prices for lunch, and headed back into the land of the Euro, -specifically, France again. on the way to Saarbruken, Germany.

Bottles of water inside the van & torrents of rain outside. It’s all grey and we’ve got PJ Harvey setting the audio moods, it’s working perfectly. I know that all of us in the band don’t meet in the middle on every kind of music. When we crossed into France the first time, coming from Germany, Aimee & I were in the front seat, she was driving (3rd position) and we were cranking out the Scorpions as a last shout out to Germany. In fact, we were listening to “Blackout” at the moment we crossed the border. I love the Scorpions. I’m not certain that everybody (or anybody) who was in the back seat at the time can even stand them.

We listen to a lot more music in this van than most band vans I have been in. Tastes vary, but I think everybody in here is gonna be cool as long as nobody plays the Eagles. There’s a world of stuff out there that I don’t know well, or know about at all. I don’t even have much music on my phone & I rely on these guys to curate the playlist for the long drives. I don’t take the time to listen to music on my own anymore, it’s a thing I need to change in my life. I count on time with my friends to keep music flowing into my ears.

—

By the time the roads straightened out & the mountains were down to reasonable levels, the sun was poking through the clouds. We were back in Germany -basically in Saarbrucken and it was early afternoon. The town is just minutes across the French border, and we were booked to play an Irish pub. Showtime wasn’t until 10 pm, and we were rolling in at 3:30. Idle hands..

The road into our part of town had us passing by a little platz with a Woolworth, a pharmacy, a bratwurst stand & a couple other odd stores. Streets extended out in every direction from the square, with retail possibilities on every corner, and then some. The town had a lot to offer, it seemed.

We checked into a bnb just up the street from the platz, and were hit by a deafening odor of sweet rot as we cleared the threshold of the building, that followed us up the stairs to our top floor room, but mercifully did not permeate our dwelling space. Every trip up & down the stairs was an exercise in lung capacity, as we all held our breath for the whole duration of the space between our apartment door & the street.

The lodging itself was lovely, modern & clean. But talk within the band centered around speculation over what the source of the odor in the hallway was. Best we can tell, it was a pile of garbage/dead things, or spoiled kimchee. Jokes about stinky things are the best. Basic humor that you can loop back around to with every new turn in a conversation.

—

Sherri & Aimee & I set out walking down to the little platz that we passed on the way in. I saw a Woolworth’s down there (I know, right?) and I wanted to look for a belt. I thought I could do without one on this trip, but my new jeans were a little contrary to this. Aimee saved me early on in the trip by offering me the one that she brought with her, and I was making it do. But everyone’s gotta keep their own pants up, so I needed to find my own. I wouldn’t wanna make my bad planning be responsible for somebody else’s saggy britches, we need to all look our tip-top, rock & roll best every day on this trip.

The Woolworth’s was a bust for good belts for me, but Sherri did find a cool backpack, and we kept on moving down the street. Lots of wonderful looking bakeries & candy shops all around the square, but no groceries visible to us. Down one of the side streets was a €1 store, and there was a rack of nylon strap belts right at the door. Nothing to write home about, but I reckon it’ll keep the gravity off of my pants until I get home, and the sign on the rack said it was only €1. I picked a grey one & took it to the cashier, who rang it up and gave me a number that was definitely not 1, or 1 plus tax. We had a very short talk in two languages where she tried to explain to me why it was so, and I tried to tell her I wasn’t gonna be buying the belt.

We went back out to the street, where the proprietor of the next shop had a rack of clothing out on the sidewalk, and a beautiful grey/brown Labrador was lounging unperturbed on a long bench. It was a second hand store, and most of the stuff on the rack was just random women’s clothing, but hanging on the end was an old black leather belt, with a simple chrome buckle. It might be just a large child’s belt, and it has been modified with extra holes to extend its grasp a few inches from its original design, but it fit me perfectly on the center hole. I told the shopkeeper that I would buy the belt if I could take a picture with her dog, and she more than happily obliged. I got to make a new friend. She was a quiet & noble dog who left me with a kiss on my ear as I snapped the photo.

With my new-found trouser security, we carried on down the street to see what else the town had for us. Plenty of bars, and a few closed restaurants, still more bakeries. We’d passed a vegetable shop on the way, & we decided to head back to round up some healthy fixings to take back to the apartment. An older couple were working the counter together, where we made our requests deli-style, through bits of English & French answered to us in German by the sweet woman who was gathering and carefully selecting every potato or onion as though her livelihood depended on our return business. We managed to pull together all the components for a supper & a breakfast, paid our order and asked her where we could buy some beer.

“ah, bier!” she said, and waved us outside. Pointing back to the square she said “to the Voolvorth, in the basement”

The Woolworth’s was actually just the street level of a larger shopping center, an entrance to the side put us on an escalator (descender?) going down to a discount grocery store. We were just looking for something to drink with supper, and our bargain sniffing tendencies sought out the cheapest Pilsner in the stack, which was on a special sale. I selected two or three bottles, and then reconsidered. This is a pretty good deal, we should get more. As I was mulling this over, Aimee spoke up & asked “should we just get a whole case?” (Case=20 one-liter bottles) Of course, she was right to ask this, and wise in making such a suggestion.

A little quick math & conversion told me that we were looking at a transaction of roughly five gallons of beer for about seven dollars. At these prices we would be foolish not to spend the money we saved on a bottle of their finest $6 whiskey.

Nothing to see here, just three smallish americans carrying 20 liters of beer about seven blocks up to their rental flat for supper.

—

Saarbrucken is actually a bigger town than it appeared to be on our little walk around the square. GPS directions in the van put us out on a highway for several kilometers and dropped us in a totally different town square with a completely different feel. This place was bustling, Lots of high fashion shopping and bars that were leaning closer to the nightclub side of things than the local taverns we saw earlier.

We’re at Old Murphy’s, an Irish Pub, -which apparently any country can have. They share a pedestrian square with several other bars, and there’s no way to get a car within two blocks of the place. Michael pulled into the taxi lane & put on the flashers while the rest of us started hauling gear into and across the cobblestones, past the shops and their window dressings with ten foot tall models in their underwear staring us in the eye like vacant, capitalist Mona Lisas, and the early drunks reveling among the tables & chairs all across the square. The ground was still damp from rain, but the evening was warm. The carrying was fine, but rolling the big amp cases across the uneven stones had to be done frustratingly slowly. It’s all good though, the lengths it takes to get to and from the gig are what I feel like I get paid for. Once we go on, I’m just happy to be there.

The stage was in the basement, in a little cavern of a room with arched ceilings and stucco walls. PA speakers were already hung and a SUPER basic powered mixer was set up. Aimee had to move & stack a row of full beer kegs to build herself a bunker to set the drums up in, and once she was settled in, the only access or egress was made by climbing over the kit. We tucked Michael’s amp halfway under the ride cymbal, put the bass amp on the floor under the crash, and set Sherri’s amp on top of it, so I had a full stack of amps to lean against.

The staff was all hip, edgy-looking young dudes, with the right tattoos, and they set us up with a round of beers. After the first set, the younger looking one with the bun in his hair, told us that they’d never had a band as “huge” as us there before. I’m not sure if he meant huge measured in size, or in decibels, but he really loved us, so we took the compliment and he took the tip jar around the room to get us some extra cash.

People filed in and out of the packed basement all night, but the first three tables stayed glued to their seats watching the show. I reckon we were pretty loud for that space, even filled with bodies and chatter, as it was almost the entire evening. But I was enjoying opening up the songs a little, and I loved the proximity to the drums. I could feel a little concussion of air pushing onto me every time Aimee hit the rack tom. Sherri’s amp was actually shaking me as we played. The music was a physical experience. It was another marathon set, all the way to 1 am, and the boys at the bar kept the pints of Guinness coming.

—

We broke down the gear and Sherri sold a few records to the folks at the front tables. I never got their story -were they already fans? did they find the show by accident?

We rolled all the amps & gear out in about five trips, and came back to do one last check. I asked one of the bartenders if they could spare us a pitcher of ice, and he was kind of perplexed and asked my why. I told him we had a bottle of bad whiskey back at the house, and he gave me a solid nod.

I waited by myself with the last armload of gear until the bartender came back with our ice, in a plastic grocery bag, full to the top and tied off. Then off I went, some random american, carrying the shittiest functional hi-hat stand on the planet, & a rented yamaha drum throne over his left shoulder, with a bag full of ice in the other hand, walking alone across a square in Saarbrucken to his waiting friends.

[monsters-and-men-make-monsters]

Lucky Day!

Cain wakes up before him... He strips down and hangs his clothes on tree branches to dry. Then he changes and lays out to dry his own belly.

He wakes up, looking around sleepily. He's actually still purring. Cain purrs back at him. He smiles tiredly at Cain. His tail flicks off a tiny bit of remaining water, he's mostly dry and so are his clothes. He's still a bit damp, and actually lets out a kittenish sneeze. Cain hops to his feet! Oh no! Don't be sick! He's fine, just a sneeze. Cain checks him for sick smell anyway. He's healthy, just a little cold now. cain tries to pull off his clothes. they aren't helping. He's blushing brightly now. "I don't have anything else to wear!" cain pulls his own clothes off the tree. "But what about you?" He doesn't want to take Cain's clothes. Cain fluffs up his now dry feathers. "I'd still feel bad taking your clothes." Cain pulls off his shirt and hangs it up to dry, it only has to be for a bit. A grey scar is visible on his torso, a sign of his vivisection in the void. cain pays it no mind and starts on the pants. He's bright red and has no idea what to do now. the clothes are next to him... He's just... using his tail to cover himself for now. He doesn't want to take Cain's clothes. What if he needs them for something? cain isn't having that. he pushes the clothes at him and tears up when he doesn't put them on. He dresses after that, feeling a bit bad. He is tiny compared to Cain though... cain doesn't even notice, his tail thumping on the ground happily. "I am way too short to wear these." Cain just shrugs. he only needs to wear them until his own dry. cain goes and gets him some berries and rabbit jerky. He nibbles away at the food, hoping his clothes dry soon. He did say he'd be there today to play his violin. it took a little over an hour for cain's and his were bigger. He's just kind of sitting there, if he stands he's pretty sure the pants are gonna trip him. Cain walks under him and picks him up so he can check the clothes. He squeaks and clings to Cain. Cain moves to the clothes so he can feel them. He does, they're pretty dry now. Cain looks up at him, are they dry? "They're dry now." He's relieved, he can put them on and get to town. cain puts him down and gets them for him, turning the other way so he can change. He changes quickly. He's already planning to get at least one more outfit for both of them. Cain waits for him to say it's okay to turn around. "I'm dressed now. I'm... gonna get us at least one more shirt and pair of pants each after I play today." Cain turns around and nods. He checks the sizes on Cain's clothes and then grabs his violin. "I'll be back later with clothes, butter, broccoli,  and bread rolls." Cain's tail thumps loudly on the ground. He smiles and heads out. cain goes looking for mary. He makes it to town and sets up where he was before... he has his hood up and tail hidden, but he forgot to hide his hand. no one seems to notice besides a few kids who think his weird glove is cool. He just plays Lost Girls by Lindsey Stirling first. that draws back the crowd, they're giving more then before. His tail wags a little in the bag. no one notices. it keeps up like that for a while. He finishes on Elements and bows like before, thanking everyone. the end of the stinger is sticking out of his bag. ???: what kind of toy is that!? a child points to his bag. He looks at his bag and goes a little pale, ears drooping under his hood. ???: can we play with it mister? ???: timmy! no! he is probably busy and you shouldn't talk to strangers! come on. his mother drags him off. the rest of the crowd seems to let it go.

the boy says nothing but looks at him amazed, the mom doesn't notice... it's the same mom as before... this must be that play date. He's nervous, still trying to get his tail back into the bag. ???: i am so sorry sir! i'll get him back to his father right away! she drags him away without looking back. He's relieved she didn't see his tail move. she would have screamed... He did not want that to happen. He gets his tail back in the bag and rushes out of town. a man watches him suspicious, but lets it go for now. He didn't notice thankfully and just makes it back to the cave. when he gets back cain is curled around a happy mary and two little bundles of fluff. His eyes go wide. "She had puppies?!" Cain nods happily. He moves closer to see the little bundles of fluff. "I'm glad more than one survived." Cain changes back to human Cain: all of them did! She only had two! Little boys. "I'm so glad they all survived!" He moves a bit closer to see them, eyes wide and happy. They look very little like their mother, more like wolves... "Are they wolf dogs?" He's a bit concerned now, he knows those don't do well with humans. Cain: I don't think so. They look like huskies or malamutes though. "Okay, that's a bit of a relief. If they were half-wolf they wouldn't be happy with just us. They'd want a full pack." Cain: they probably still want a pack, just a smaller one. We will have to do. "I hope they'll he happy with us." Cain: me too. We're gonna need to feed Mary more now, she needs more milk for them. "Yeah..." He wants to pet one of the puppies but doesn't want to upset Mary. Cain just does it, she watches but doesn't bark or growl. He carefully reaches out to gently pet one of the puppies. She doesn't even watch him past the first second. That makes him blink. "I'm surprised she watched you." Cain: well yeah. I play rough with her, you're always calm and nice. "I guess that makes sense." He keeps petting the puppy, reaching out to pet the other as well. The tip up at him and roll onto their backs, she seems pleased with this. He rubs their bellies carefully. they yip happily. her tail wags. "They are so cute." Cain: yeah... they need to go to the vet though... "They all do probably... We'll have to take them tomorrow." Cain nods. "Did you hunt today?" Cain: i caught and butchered a rabbit before i found mary... they need names. "They do... do you have any ideas?" Cain: ... no. i tried but no.... "I'm kind of stuck on names too." Cain: .... purple? "I don't think that works as a name..." Cain: i can't think of anything! that's literally the only word i could think of! "Maybe Harvey for one of them?" Cain: okay... tristen for the other? "That works." Cain smiles and rubs mary's side. He reaches out to pet Mary as well. her tail wags happily. He's pretty much forgotten his bad luck now. Cain: now... Fish or rabbit tonight? "Fish sounds good. Mary can have some of the rabbit." Cain nods and pulls out the strips of fish meat. He pulls out the butter to melt some in the pan before putting the fish in to cook it. Cain sniffs happily, it smells good already. He's happy with the smell too. At least fish doesn't take as long to cook. Cain pets the puppies while he waits. It doesn't take too much longer and the fish is put into two cans for them. Cain eats faster than usual, he looks a bit sick after. "Are you okay Cain?" Cain: yeah... Just ate too much too fast... "Oh..." He looks worried now. Cain seems to clear up after a couple minutes. Well that's a relief for him. Cain goes back to the puppies. He seems to adore them. Vapor adores those little balls of fluff too. They stick close to Mary, drinking a lot. "Did you get the meat from the rabbit ready? I'm sure Mary's gonna need some soon." Cain: yeah. He grabs it out of the cooler thing. He moves over to gently pet Mary's head. She yips happily as she eats. She loves her family. Vapor is going to protect her and her puppies. Cain: so how was today? "I... had some weird luck, hood fell off and my tail fell out of the bag, everyone thought it was a costume thankfully." Cain looks at him surprised. Cain: wow. "I'm just relieved no one realized it wasn't a costume." Cain: yeah. That could have been bad... He nods, shivering a bit. "Anyway, we need to figure out what time we're bringing these puppies to the vet tomorrow." Cain: ... It's probably best we aren't seen by too many people... "Yeah... Maybe early in the morning then? I could stay with them by myself." Cain: if you think that's best... "Well... I'd rather not be alone, but you didn't really seem comfortable in town the last time you came with me." Cain: ... Don't like people... "I understand. I can take all three of them by myself." Cain: ... No. We want to come... "Okay. You can carry Mary then? While I carry the puppies?" Cain nods. He smiles, moving to gently pet both puppies again. They yip and roll over, happy. He's happy as well. Cain watches Mary, see seems happy... But tired... "How about we all get some sleep?" Cain nods, changing and curling around Mary, vapor and the puppies. He cuddles with Mary and the puppies, falling asleep quickly. Cain doesn't get to sleep for a bit longer but sleeps well when he does.

[thegloober]

4 Big Things to Keep an Eye Out for at 2018 Primetime Emmys

There are plenty of burning questions that will be answered at the 2018 Primetime Emmys ceremony Monday, most of which concern who might win closely contested categories. But while trophies are usually serious and meaningful business in Hollywood, this year’s show also must grapple with two new and very urgent questions.

First, how can you evaluate and reward nearly 500 scripted television series with any degree of fairness or authority? And second, what’s the real purpose of an awards show right now, anyway?

To answer that first new question, we have to dig into the second one.

How Will They Address #MeToo?

It was shortly after last year’s Emmys broadcast that Hollywood was rocked by a long-overdue existential crisis that has slowly rearranged its reality. Brave women defied the code of silence that had propped up the industry’s horrible culture of sexual assault and exploitation, and in the months that followed, the #MeToo movement exposed prominent producers and celebrities as prolific offenders. At the Oscars, nominations rightly took a back seat to accusations, and red carpet questions turned from “who are you wearing” to “who are you protesting?” And any chance that the topic would cool by the time this year’s Emmys telecast arrived was torpedoed by the swift downfall of former CBS boss Les Moonves just days before the show.

Into that turmoil step this year’s hosts, “Weekend Update” anchors Colin Jost and Michael Che. NBC’s goal is to attract viewers, while pundits and activists will likely be looking for a strong statement about the industry’s troubles, so Che and Jost are tasked with creating a show that is equal parts funny and sensitive. They must somehow turn what has long been an evening of ephemeral bits into some kind of memorable and meaningful congress, all while still honoring the hard work of the nominees and entertaining the people at home, whose views on social justice and gender rights don’t always align with the espoused politics of “liberal” Hollywood.

With the caveat that it would have been smartest to have a woman host the Emmys this year, Che and Jost are in some ways optimal candidates for this difficult task. They’ve already spent nearly a full year on TV attacking the worst of Hollywood’s predators on a near-weekly basis; as soon as Harvey Weinstein was hit with the first of the many allegations of assault against women, they went to town on the fallen mogul.

In an early October edition of “Update,” they said he looked like “chewed bubblegum rolled in cat hair” and “a well-dressed skin tag,” calling the accusations against him “a full season of ‘Law and Order.'” They were unsparing as the year went on, and so it would do no damage to their precious brands if they gave the industry the sort of holy roasting that Ricky Gervais once offered at the Golden Globes, but with more social justice justification.

At the same time, both hosts have run into trouble with women and activists on the internet. Che in particular has been willing to voice unpopular opinions about social issues (he thinks catcalling women is a compliment) and comedy-related news stories, most recently expressing some support for Louis C.K. after the disgraced comedian’s return to stand-up. Jost, meanwhile, caught heat last month for saying he’d prefer to see “good, fun” shows win awards over only “good, artsy” shows. That may seem less misogynistic than basic, but with so many female-focused prestige dramas nominated this year, it’s not hard to detect subtle bias.

So which Che and Jost will show up on Sunday? The outspoken duo that uses comedy to roast predators, or the bros who make boneheaded comments often designed to trigger outrage? And which presenters will make their own statements? Actresses like Taraji P. Henson, Issa Rae, Patricia Arquette, Tina Fey, Elisabeth Moss, Sarah Paulson, Ilana Glazer, and Abbi Jacobson are all good bets to say something powerful.

Which ‘SNL’ Players Will Show Up?

Whichever version of the “Update” team appears, they’ll be joined by fellow SNL and NBC stars. Lorne Michaels is producing the show for the network for the first time in 30 years, and he’s already hinted at a cabaret of late night personalities and comedy icons. It stands to figure Jimmy Fallon and Seth Meyers will do bits —- it’s great cross-promotion, after all — and you’d think Fey and Amy Poehler, no strangers to awards show entertaining, could also pop up.

Will Women Make History?

It will be a big night for a number of funny women, as this will mark the first time in eight years that Julia Louis-Dreyfus will not win the Emmy for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Comedy -— “Veep” was pushed back this year due to her battle with cancer, which has proven to be the only thing that could stop her historic run of well-deserved victories. In other categories, at least, voters haven’t been afraid to reward newcomers, so don’t be surprised if Rachel Brosnahan (“The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”) takes home the prize. Issa Rae, the auteur behind HBO’s “Insecure,” is a solid candidate to surprise here, too.

There’s a chance that history will be made in the Outstanding Lead Actress in a Drama category, as well. Sandra Oh, who was nominated five years in a row for Supporting Actress during her run on “Grey’s Anatomy,” is nominated this year for her lead role in the spring sensation “Killing Eve,” a breakout hit for Lifetime. She would become the first actress of Asian descent to win the top category.

She has major competition, however, in Keri Russell, who is in her last opportunity for her star role in “The Americans,” as well as Elisabeth Moss, who won last year for “The Handmaid’s Tale” and is nominated once again.

Is Streaming the New HBO?

Even though JLD deserved her trophies, her dominance was still emblematic of the Emmy tradition of focusing just on a few major networks (remember how many times “Modern Family” won?). Now, with streaming networks popping up by the dozen, there are more shows than ever for voters to consider, and without a significant expansion of categories, it’s hard for viewers to fully trust the Emmys as true arbiters of quality.

Still, last year’s surprise sweep for Hulu’s “Handmaid’s Tale” signaled that streaming had truly arrived on the awards stage. And this year, Netflix, which puts out more shows than most cable networks combined, took the top spot for most overall nominations. Even if the sheer numbers suggested it was inevitable, that still proved a shock to HBO, which had held that title for years.

HBO will insist it cares more about quality than quantity, and that the biggest categories are where it wants to compete. And indeed, the Best Drama Series is a heavyweight title fight this year, with HBO going toe-to-toe with insurgent streaming networks.

Hulu won last year with “The Handmaid’s Tale,” which returns to the final round again in 2018. Netflix, meanwhile, has “Stranger Things” and “The Crown,” two of its most acclaimed series, in the game this year. On the comedy side, Netflix has “The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt” and “GLOW” up for the top award, while Amazon, shut out of drama, has “Mrs. Maisel” up for Outstanding Comedy.

Not that “The Handmaid’s Tale’s” win last year deserves any kind of asterisk, but it couldn’t have been hurt by the absence of HBO’s “Game of Thrones,” which will not be the case this year. The epic fantasy, which returned this past season, is joined by its fellow expensive HBO series “Westworld.” The network is well-represented on the comedy side too, with “Barry,” “Curb Your Enthusiasm” and “Silicon Valley,” though to be honest, “Atlanta” seems like a lock for another win in that series.

By the end of the ceremony, it may be that HBO wins back the biggest prize and scores some major acting wins, too. But it’s looking more like a holdover from an earlier time, no matter what happens on Monday night.

2018 Emmy Award Nominations: The Most Brutal Snubs

The post 4 Big Things to Keep an Eye Out for at 2018 Primetime Emmys was shared from BlogHyped.com.

Source: https://bloghyped.com/4-big-things-to-keep-an-eye-out-for-at-2018-primetime-emmys/

[houstonlocalus-blog]

Opinion: Houston Sucks At Show Etiquette

Photo: Marshall Forse Walker

  I believe I can say that I see more concerts than pretty much anyone in Houston who doesn’t work at a live music venue. And while I might see even more than those people, sometimes up to five or six shows in one night, the one thing I see continuously is how attendees interact with one another, as well as how they interact with those who are performing. I occasionally venture out to other cities where they may also suck at knowing how to behave at a live music venue, but what I see here turns my stomach more than what I see elsewhere. Houston, you suck at show etiquette. Period.

  For starters, I should point out that this doesn’t apply to how people act in spots that shouldn’t attempt to have live music, yet still do. While the idea of having shows at breweries and restaurants isn’t a new one, it’s also not the best spot for them either. Also spots like hotels, grocery stores, and places like Axelrad are completely taken out of this. It’s a stupid idea to attempt to have a show at spaces where the band has to fight the audience for volume or where those in attendance didn’t come for the live music. Those are separate articles to be written at a later date. No, this is how Houstonians act at spaces that were set up for live music. This isn’t a new sentiment, as I’ve gone so far as to call out people to their face when it happens. It’s not a youthful thing or a transient dweller thing; it’s a Houston thing. And it’s getting old.

  The first type is the “the rules don’t apply to me” group. While waiting in line to get my ticket scanned at larger venues like NRG or my occasional trip to the Woodlands Pavilion, I’ve had people who were always old enough to know better, break the rules. At U2, I had no less than twenty adults in an age ranges between late thirties to upper fifties cut in front of myself and others in line. If you think I’m an ageist or elitist, I’m not. You can tell people’s ages by how out of touch they are in they means of dress, or the amount of grey hairs they have on their heads. Line cutting isn’t the only group, as there are the types who think the long arm of the Texas Alcoholic Beverage Commission based laws that every space that sells alcohol, don’t apply to them. Everything from attempting to leave a venue with a drink in hand to attempting to bring one in, this rule isn’t limited to age. I’ve seen everyone from underage kids to at least adults in their late forties attempt to skirt around such laws, like they’re the king or queen of some country. It gets even hairier when there��s a “no video, no photo” policy in place. I’ll admit, with the exception of comics, I think the “no photo, no video” rule is a little dated, but rules are rules. I see this one broken all the time, even at comedy shows where comics are typically working on new material that they don’t want lifted from a twenty second web clip. If you ever wondered why the Yondr pouch was invented, Houston was probably one of the places the idea originated.

  Another group is the “I’ll talk really loud no matter how close I am to the stage” people. Some performances and some types of music aren’t loud, yet no one in this town can seem to shut up when there’s music playing. This is especially bad in spaces like Rudyard’s where the band is very close to the audience. Not to single out a venue, as I’ve witnessed this at Big Top, White Oak Music Hall upstairs, the studio and the green room at Warehouse Live, and the Bronze Peacock at House of Blues. However, there are also those who are just loud period, and maybe you’re in the middle of the crowd or the back and they’re literally yelling to their buds in the crowd, yet you have to hear them. Here’s a rule of thumb: if you’re louder than the insanely expensive sound rigs that many of these venues utilize, then you’re more than likely too loud.

  Of course, that brings us to the “I’m just gonna be on the phone no matter what” people. I’ve seen it when bands take people’s phones, when people insist on texting or even talking on their phone during a performance. I’ve seen it when a band asks for the room to be dark, and then some idiot pulls out their giant bright phone to respond to a Facebook message or a text, right in front of the stage. Of course, we all have to deal with people using their phones to take a video or a picture, and I myself do it as well. However, I usually do so from the back of the room in small venues, or off to the side in larger ones. I have, of course, had people hold their phone up high, right in front of me or in my line of sight, while they attempt to video the whole concert it seems. That’s dumb. I seriously doubt you’re going to ever watch the whole concert ever again, even after you upload it to wherever you upload it to. This also leads to the Facebook Live idiots. Why, why, why would anyone care about your garbled and crappy phone video of a concert? Your phone has a crappy ISO and a terrible speaker. There’s also a great chance that the live sound is set up for the venue size, sometimes quite large, and your phone makes it sound terrible. Please, please, please stop this stupid exercise. No one cares, no matter how many likes or loves you get, it’s vulgar and dumb.

  Then, we get to talk about the “I can’t handle my alcohol” people, which I see way too often. Look, I get it. You dropped $10 on a beer, and you want to have a good time. However, after you’ve had three or four of them, you’re infringing on my good time by acting like a drunken idiot. At PJ Harvey, where pretty much everyone there was older than I am, this was the worst I’ve ever seen. Okay, okay, you got a babysitter and you and the spouse are going to have crazy hotel sex after the concert. But does that mean you have the right to spill draft beer all over the place while dancing all over me like we’re on a date? No. Drink like an adult, please.

  Finally, there’s the “I’m going to invade your personal space” people. While all of these annoyances are essentially about personal space, there are people in this town who literally believe it is their inalienable right to stand directly in front of you. I get it if you’re behind me and you’re five foot four and under, as I’m pushing six foot five. Of course this is how I feel, if you’re as big of a fan as you think that you are, you would’ve started the show off in front of me. And so you know, I never get to the venue early. At the last TV On The Radio show at House of Blues, I had a real moron stand directly in front of me, then continuously bump me until I told him to dance somewhere else. This also happened with a women no younger than her fifties as she danced atop of me at PJ Harvey at Revention Center, until I asked her to take advantage of the eight or so feet ahead of her to dance all she wanted to. This also happened at Madness On Main this year upstairs at White Oak Music Hall for the LIMB set. However, this was more of a mix of morons with professional cameras both video and photo, standing in front of me as I stood off in the corner away from everyone else. There were also two latecomers with bulging backpacks who hulked their way through to stand on top of me like I wasn’t there well before them. If you really think you need to be as close as possible, just get up there early and stop grinding through a crowd like you’re “with the band,” please.

  Removed from this list is also people at punk and at metal shows, where I expect there to be people dancing on top of one another. Though I will say that the crowd surfing died twenty years ago, maybe it’s time we give that a rest. If not only because many of you are doing it wrong, and usually end up hurting someone because of your lack of skills at it. Also removed from this list is festivals if not for the only reason that they usually have a mix of people from many other places, so I can’t really place how people act at festivals on Houstonians alone.

  The truth is this, pretty much every band that plays this city whether as a resident or as a touring act feels the same at any given time; this city’s crowds can suck. As a music journalist, many of us often look around for someone to blame in a time when it feels like Houston’s music community should be growing to a larger place. However, if you attend enough live performances, maybe you’ll start to see what I’m seeing. It’s time for we as patrons to start acting better while calling out those who ruin the experience for those of us who actually came to see the bands performing. Otherwise, this city will quickly return to a time when bands just skip us over in favor of other places, and we’ll be left back in the dark days of music again.

Opinion: Houston Sucks At Show Etiquette this is a repost

[merelymedia]

Back in Town Chapter Seven

Read from the beginning on AO3.

In the middle of the night Harvey was still lying wide awake when he felt Mike lurch out of bed and scramble for the bathroom. He got up and wet a rag with warm water, knowing Mike would appreciate it in a moment. For the next several hours, Harvey sat with Mike on the bathroom floor rubbing wide circles on his back and whispering sweet nothings as Mike went through the painful process of ridding his body of the toxic alcohol, until Mike finally brushed his teeth and crawled back into bed.

Many hours later Mike woke slowly, holding on to every last vestige of sleep he could to avoid the headache and grim reality that waited for him in wakefulness. Opening his eyes with a groan he was surprised to see Harvey still there. He was in slacks and a grey V-neck, sitting up with folders spread across his half of the bed. Hearing Mike groan he turned to look at him, peering over the glasses Mike had never seen him wear before. The glasses momentarily distracted Mike from realizing that Harvey was laughing at him.

“You look like shit,” Harvey said chuckling.

“I feel even worse.”

“Yeah well I imagine drinking yourself half to death will do that. There’s water on the table, drink that whole glass then start on the Gatorade.”

Mike pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing as he did. Swallowing the medicine with a large drink of water he rested his head back on the headboard with a sigh and closed his eyes.

“How bad was it?” he asked.

“Bad,” was all Harvey answered.

Mike had prepared himself for this to go one of two ways: Harvey would either make a joke about what an idiot he was, or he would be genuinely mad about the cost of the alcohol and the mess he must have made. When he opened his eyes he didn’t expect to see the expression of pain which was clearly evident on the older man’s face.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” Mike asked, confused. When Harvey saw Mike looking at him he tried to put his mask back on, the ‘try me, I dare you, you’ll lose because I don’t give a shit’ mask that he wore for most of his life. But he could only manage it halfway, and even that didn’t last long.

“I took a few days off. You may have promised not to die in the apartment but apparently you can’t be trusted to keep that promise on your own.”

“I’m sorry Harvey, but I’m fine. You can go to work, you don’t need to stay here with me. It’s all good.”

“Goddamnit Mike.” The sudden anger surprised both of them. Mike had expected Harvey to be angry earlier, but this had a desperation to it that he didn’t see coming. Harvey had turned sideways in the bed so he could face Mike, “I came home to you collapsed and bleeding on the floor. I swear for a second I thought you were dead. You might not care about that. But I do. I care,” Harvey was breathing heavy by the time he finished and the raw emotion coming from his normally collected mentor threw Mike off.

“Well you shouldn’t,” Mike mumbled.

“What?” Harvey asked exasperated.

“Nothing, forget it. I’m sorry I scared you, but I’m fine now. You should go back to work.” Mike threw off the covers and moved to get out of bed but Harvey reached over and grabbed his wrist firmly to keep him from leaving.

“Stop,” he said. The anger in his voice was gone, but there was a steel in it that left no room for argument, “I have given you space. I kept Donna from knocking the door down whether you liked it or not. I intercepted all the mudding invites, broadway tickets, and cat videos Louis has tried to send you. I let you lock yourself in here and drink. But yesterday I had to pick your unconscious body up off the tile and clean you up so you didn’t choke on your own vomit.” Mike flinched at the image he had no memory off as Harvey continued, “so I’m not giving you space anymore. It’s time you talk to me.”

Mike briefly considered pushing back, but he didn’t have the energy and he knew from experience Harvey always got what he wanted anyway.

“I got official divorce papers yesterday.”

Harvey nodded. “I know,” his voice was kinder now, evidently appeased that Mike was sharing. “You’ll have to request another copy; yours is crumbled and was soaked in scotch.” Mike cringed again at the details of the night prior.

“This makes me sound like a total asshat, but it wasn’t even about Rachel that the papers made me lose it. God, that is so egotistical, but it was because it was one more thing I failed at. When I was in prison-” he paused, his voice thick when he continued “I know I barely served any time, that I had it easy and have no right to talk-”

Harvey held up his hand to interrupt him, “Mike, you were attacked more than once in that place. You had to live every second on guard. It doesn’t matter how early you were released. You have every right to feel whatever you do about your time there. It was no small thing.”

“Yeah. Well, when I was there, there were moments where I lost hope and I really just didn’t think I would make it out. I mean Galo controlled everything and everyone. So I started thinking that if that was the end, then what had I actually done? I had gotten kicked out of school, helped people cheat the system, destroyed my friendships, told Grammy I’d get my life together only to end up in prison after I spent the year before her passing blowing her off. I made every case I ever worked on vulnerable. I caused the entire firm to walk out. I left my fiancé at the altar, and I put you on the map of an Assistant Attorney who is now out for your blood.

“I told myself if by some miracle I did make it out things would change. I would do good for people, I would be the partner Rachel deserved, I wouldn’t put my friends at risk, and I would live a life I could be proud of.” Every fiber in Harvey’s being fought against the words Mike was speaking about himself but he stayed quiet to allow Mike to voice everything he had been holding in.

“And then I did get out, and as soon as I did I put the firm in trouble again. I almost caused you to give yourself up. I got cases thrown out. I got Jessica kicked out of the bar. But the one thing I still had was doing right by Rachel. Starting fresh and prioritizing our marriage. Except I couldn’t even do that. So now what? I’m an unemployed, divorced, convicted felon? Everything I touch I make worse. I’ve failed every single thing I’ve done. So no Harvey, you shouldn’t care. Because I’ll just destroy you the way I’ve destroyed everything else.”

“Are you done?” Harvey asked patiently.

“Yes.”

“Look at me.” Mike reluctantly turned his gaze so they were face to face. Harvey wanted to take him in his arms but he resisted. “You Mike, are the single most determined and talented person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. All those cases you worked on both at the clinic and the firm are still standing, and many of them would not have had the same results without you working on them. The firm is stronger than ever. You were there for Rachel. You helped her get into law school and reach her dreams. You helped her start over, and from what I hear she’s kicking ass out in LA. Even Trevor and Jenny who I couldn’t care less about are happy. If it weren’t for you Trevor likely would have been found dead in a back alley somewhere. You found it in you to have compassion for the family of the man who tried to kill you.” Mike looked back down at his lap. “I said look at me. You have done amazing things with your life, and you will continue to do so. Everyone who has known you is better off for it.”

“It doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”

“Well I’ll be here until you pull your head out of your ass and see the truth.” Mike just gave a small smile. Harvey gave Mike a friendly slap on the thigh saying, “now put some real clothes on and let’s go. You slept until lunch time and we’re actually going out this time.”

“Thanks but I’m going to stay here.”

“I’m sorry, did you hear a question in there somewhere? Because there wasn’t one. And if I have to look at you in sweats one more day my eyeballs might fall out. Come on get up.” This time Harvey gave Mike a less than gentle shove in the shoulder to get him out of bed.

As a couple of days passed Mike started looking more and more like himself. He got dressed in the mornings and started asked questions about Harvey’s cases. While he still wouldn’t come to the office for lunch he at least volunteered to pick up dinner each night and bring it home. Things were going well. And it made Harvey anxious. While it wasn’t the same as working with him at the office, going over his cases with Mike felt like old times. Plus he was getting used to coming home to Mike placing a warm dinner on the table and asking about his day. He began to fear how he would possibly go back to his old life after Mike left him again; it made him want to grab onto this as tight as possible and never let go.

One evening Harvey and Mike were sitting on the couch, Harvey reading documents and Mike a novel when Mike looked up,

“So there was something I wanted to apologize for.”

“Oh yeah?” Harvey looked up curiously, “you finally going to apologize for drinking your way through my entire liquor collection in two weeks?”

“Oh, uh no. Well I’m sorry for that too but that’s not what I meant.” Harvey gave the same annoyed expression Mike used to get all the time when he thought Mike wasn’t getting to the point fast enough. “In therapy, it made us fight like crazy, but it also made me realize a couple things about myself. I already told you when I got out of prison I was determined to do good.” It was the first time either of them had mentioned Mike’s emotional confession. “But looking back I can see how I would get focused on this black and white version of right and wrong, and it made me ignore the way my actions affected the people I care about. You always had my back, and I took that for granted. I should have prioritized you. I know I was a pain in the ass, I’m sorry for that. Honestly I don’t know how you didn’t kick me out long before I left.” Mike looked up and Harvey was taken aback by the open vulnerability in his face.

Harvey had always scoffed at poetic language. He was a lawyer after all, so language was supposed to be clean and precise with only one interpretation. But when he met Mike’s eyes he understood that saying a heart was breaking wasn’t poetic. Because seeing the insecurity in Mike’s face Harvey felt as if his heart was literally shattering into tiny pieces.

“I…” he tried to find the words to explain that nothing Mike did would ever push him away. That if it were up to him Mike would never have left Specter Litt. That Mike’s desire to do what was right no matter the cost is exactly what made him the most incredible man Harvey knew. Instead, as if his mind no longer controlled his body, he leaned forward, closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to Mike’s. He could feel Mike’s surprise at the touch. Mike startled, but didn’t exactly pull back. The movement was enough though for Harvey to realize what he was doing and yank backwards.

“Fuck,” Harvey uttered, angry at himself.

Shock was written all over Mike’s face. He didn’t have time to say a word, not that he would have known what to say, before Harvey stood up and practically raced out of the apartment.