#this was inspired by last night’s events … the patching up of a friendship.

[sempersirens]

raising hell all over town

pairing: best friend's dad!joel x f!reader

summary: you've been a friend of sarah's since you were old enough to steal bottles of her dad's whiskey for parties. sarah was always the sensible one in your friendship, getting you out of the trouble you usually started. but now sarah has gone off to college, who else but joel could pick up the pieces?

content/warnings: 18+ mdni. alcohol. drugs. age gap. violence/fighting. smut: unprotected p in v, spanking

a/n: inspired by this gif set, and the wonderful @amanitacowboy & @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for introducing me to that yellowstone scene kind of nervous about this, my first proper smutty fic - i find smut really difficult to write for some reason (weird because i'm feral horny 24/7) so this was kinda out of my comfort zone but i hope you all enjoy! PSA: i no longer have a taglist! feel free to follow my updates blog @sempersirenswrites and turn the post notifs on to be notified when i post a new fic :)

Friday nights in Austin felt incomplete without Sarah by your side.

For years, she had been the epitome of your partner in crime; dragging you back to her place or putting you in a cab before the cops were called.

Had it not been for your fierce loyalty and protectiveness over Sarah, you're sure her dad would've barred you from the house years ago. Sarah was smarter than you in almost every way. Academically, emotionally, you name it.

Joel knew this, and he trusted the two of you together knowing you both balanced the other out. Watching the two of you reminded Joel of a younger version of himself and Tommy, always thankful that Sarah had followed in his footsteps as opposed to her uncle's.

Your relationship with your parents was rocky, to say the least, and the Miller's house had always been a safe haven for you. Joel had patched up your split lip or bloody nose more times than he wanted to admit for a girl your age. He swore he'd kill your old man one day for the states you'd turned up to their house in.

Still, he couldn't help but feel the urge to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you from time to time. As much as his heart broke for you, it was also in your nature to be a damn brat. Joel had endured countless stifling days spent by the pool forcing himself to not let his eyes linger on the curves of your hips. He struggled to look you in the eye when he saw you sat on the kitchen counter waiting to leave for a party, your mini skirt riding dangerously high on your thighs.

There had been times when he had been reckless. Times that he'd had to pull himself away from your invisible grip on him and relieve his tension in the bathroom, fisting his cock onto the shower floor, biting down on the shape of your name on his tongue.

When he'd re-emerge into the living room, he knew that you knew. You'd look through your eyelashes at him and smile. His cheeks flushed, shame setting in at the speed at which he'd cum from the thought of your pussy clenching around his shaft.

He would never let it show, but something would rush through his body when he'd ask Sarah what the hell she do this time? He remembered one time in particular, as Sarah relayed the events of the night that had led to your bloody nose, he'd looked over at you perching on the counter. With blood leaking down your cupid's bow, you'd locked eyes with him and ran your tongue across your lip, revelling in the remnants of your victory.

Still, you had fine enough nights out with the girls from work. They just didn't get you the way Sarah did. They would shoot you judgemental glances from across the bar that lasted until the Monday back at work for whatever you had done this time that they disapproved of.

"They're just dull. You should see the way they look at me for literally just hooking up with guys." You had lamented to Sarah over the phone while you were both getting ready for your respective nights out on separate sides of the country.

"It's probably because they've seen you get through an entire friendship group before your second drink."

"Well, they should be taking notes. Tell me nobody at college is as fun as me." Jealousy tore through your chest at the thought of Sarah spending her time with new friends.

"Nobody here is as fun as you. They're very... reserved." You scoffed at her politeness.

"Babe, just say they're boring."

"I'm giving them a chance. Anyway, gotta go. Text me tomorrow and tell me the damage. Love ya!"

"Don't have too much fun without me. Love you too."

Despite their judging looks, you were always the first person they called upon to finish any mess they had gotten themselves into. Still, you were happy to oblige, even if it meant a few awkward minutes of silence at the coffee machine on Monday.

The group of you had poured out of an Uber into the busy bar around nine o'clock, buzzing with the confidence of your pre-drinks. Rounds of shots were ordered and consumed at a dizzying pace, and soon enough, bags of powder were discreetly distributed across the table.

"Bathroom?" Hannah, one of your closest and least judgmental co-workers nudged you.

"Thought you'd never ask." The two of you sauntered away from the table, hand-in-hand, quickly bundling into a tight cubicle.

The bathroom filled up as the two of you tried to be as silent as possible, scooping your pinky nails into the small bag.

"Hurry the fuck up!" Someone from outside the cubicle called, thudding her fists against the door.

"Get fucked." You called back, muttering this bitch under your breath to Hannah.

As the two of you packed your things back into your handbags, the cubicle door jolted half open, smacking Hannah in the shoulder.

"Are you fucking serious?" You shouted at the small brunette on the other side of the door, checking Hannah over for injury.

"You hit me, you bitch." She straightened herself up, rubbing her shoulder.

"I'll do worse if you don't fucking move." The brunette hissed in her face.

You screwed your face up and shoved her, making her stumble backwards into the sink. The other girls in the bathroom grabbed their bags and scurried to the exit, evidently not wanting to be caught in the crossfire.

"Apologise." You said, moving toward the girl who was now pulling herself up with the help of the basins on either side of her.

"Fuck you." She spat, saliva hitting your cheek before she lunged forward.

Your fist connected with her nose before she even had time to swing, and your right hand secured a tight grip on the back of her hair.

"I said, apologise to my friend."

"I'm sorry." She choked, pathetically. Her face shrivelled in fear and pain.

"Not so fuckin' big now, are you?" Hannah said, which was ironic, considering the girl who had bruised her was now quivering under your fist.

Content with her apology, you released your grip on her and re-entered the bar with Hannah trailing behind you. As you both rejoined your table, you felt a tap on your shoulder.

"Our friend said you just attacked her in the bathroom." Another petite girl looked up at you, one hand on her hip.

"She hit my friend, here. Was just trying to teach her some manners."

The entirety of your group was now turned to face you, exchanging harsh whispers of your name followed by just leave it.

"You broke her nose!" The girl shrilled. You looked over her shoulder to the girl doubled over, clutching her bloody nose with an ensemble of people crowding around her.

"No, I think it just looks like that."

You grinned at the rage growing behind her eyes, your smile unfaltering even as her fist collided with your cheek.

"Harder." You shouted, rolling your neck from side to side.

"What?!"

"Come on, hit me harder. I know you got it in you." She didn't take much convincing; her next punch knocked you backwards onto the table as everyone rushed to tear the two of you apart.

You stepped forward to finally let her have it when a pair of strong hands pulled you back.

"Get off!" You shouted, kicking against who you assumed to be security throwing you out. You just hoped they weren't calling the cops, too.

"C'mon, doll. You've had enough fun for one night." A familiar Southern drawl cooed, dragging you out into the warm night. "Now, that wasn't very ladylike of you, darlin'."

He let you go from his grip and you turned to face him. To your surprise, you were met with the smirk of the younger Miller brother.

"Tommy." You breathed, "I didn't see you in there."

"Well, lucky I noticed you ain't it." He grinned.

Spending so much time at the Miller's had you well acquainted with Sarah's uncle Tommy. He'd seen you in much worse states than this, and in turn, so had you.

"Didn't need you to swoop in and save me, Tommy."

"Wasn't saving you, sweetheart. Was savin' that poor girl." You both smiled at the tone of pride in his voice.

"You got somewhere to go, trouble? Don't think you should be hangin' round here for too long."

"Can't exactly go home bleeding from my face." You sighed, realising you probably hadn't thought this through. You missed Sarah.

Tommy fished around in his pocket for his phone before raising it to his ear.

"Hey, big brother." Your stomach flipped. "No, no- it's not me. Joel, listen." You could almost hear Joel on the other end of the phone, witnessing it in person more times than you could count. It's not even ten o'clock yet, don't tell me you're locked up already.

"Our favourite little troublemaker needs a place to crash tonight. I'd drive her over but I've already had my fair share of beers. Okay, great. I'll tell her."

Once he'd hung up, Tommy told you that Joel was on his way to come and pick you up. You could feel your heartbeat in your stomach. You'd never been alone with Joel for longer than a couple of hours at most, let alone spending the night at his while Sarah was out of town. Something inside of you twitched in excitement, a warm rush settling deep in your belly.

You told Tommy to go back into the bar, that Joel wouldn't be long and you'd walk down the street to meet him in case those girls came out looking for another round.

As you made your way underneath the streetlights toward the direction of the Miller's house, you pulled your compact from your bag and touched up your make-up, re-curling your lashes and dousing a thick layer of clear lipgloss onto your lips, not bothering to tend to any of the blood trickling down your skin. You spritzed yourself with perfume and ran a brush through your hair, smiling at the thought of Joel seeing you waiting on the curbside for him.

Right on cue, his truck pulled around the corner. You raised your hand and wiggled your fingers, a small smirk spreading across your cheeks.

You were grateful for your earlier decision to wear your knee-high boots with a denim mini-skirt, adding a little extra sway to your hips as you made your way to the passenger side of Joel's truck. You climbed in and turned to face him, flashing him a toothy grin, well aware of the blood staining your teeth.

"You're a damn mess, princess." Something deep inside of you came to life at his words, causing you to visibly clench your exposed thighs together. "S'there I was, thinking to myself how thankful I am for a peaceful night after workin' lates all week. When my phone rings, just as I'd sat down and made myself comfortable."

"Peace is overrated." You replied.

"So, what did you do this time? Steal another cop car? Break into a hotel pool? Make out with someone's husband?"

You played with the hem of your skirt as he spoke, blushing as he listed a few of your past activities he'd either bailed you out of or heard about from Sarah.

"I didn't start this one." You said, a slight whine in your voice. "Someone hit my friend, I was just looking out for her."

"Your friend can't fight her own battles?"

"You never have a problem when it's Sarah I'm throwing punches for."

He scoffed. "Now, you know I've always taught her to never start a fight but always to finish one. You on the other hand, I don't think nobody's taught you anythin' of the sort."

"And are you gonna be the one to do that, Mr Miller?" You mimicked his Texan accent, which was much thicker than yours, and parted your legs in your seat ever so slightly.

"If I didn't know you better, darlin', I'd think you were tryin' to get me in some sort of trouble."

He pulled into the driveway and switched the ignition off before jogging to your side of the truck and holding the door open for you, as well as offering you an outstretched hand.

"Always such a gentleman." You smiled, looking at him through your eyelashes as you stepped out, hand in his.

He exhaled out of his nose, shaking his head softly as he slammed the door shut behind you. His hand moved to the small of your back, guiding you into the house.

"Sarah's bed is all made up, I'm sure you know where her clothes are f'you wanna change into something more... comfortable." His eyes trailed down your figure, your clothes hugging all the right places.

"Do you not like my outfit?" You pouted, holding your hands behind your back and sticking your chest out, swaying from side to side.

"Course not, y'look real pretty. Just thought you'd wanna watch TV before going to sleep is all." Joel brought a hand to the back of his head, rubbing his neck nervously as his eyes shifted to the floor.

For such a handsome man, he was so damn insecure. Maybe it was the gentleman in him, thinking that it was wrong for someone his age to want someone the same age as his daughter. He knew you didn't think like that, Sarah had told him multiple stories about the older men you'd hooked with at the bar.

He'd even caught you making out with a kid from your school's dad a few years ago when he'd come to pick you and Sarah up from a party. Joel had seemingly known the man, and you remembered how he'd stalked out of his truck and toward you both, grabbing him by the scruff of the neck and warning him that his wife wasn't going to like hearing about this.

So, you kicked off your boots and took yourself upstairs into Sarah's bedroom. Not bothering to close the blinds, you peeled your clothes off and looked at yourself in the full length mirror.

The warmth of your earlier drinks still coated your inhibitions. You knew you looked good in your black lace set, breasts sat perkily on your chest and your ass cheeks the perfect handfuls.

Fuck it. If he wasn't going to be ballsy enough to make the first move, maybe you should.

You kissed the tips of your fingers and pressed them against a framed photo of you and Sarah giggling at whatever was going on behind the camera.

"Sorry, Sarah." You whispered, before making your way down the stairs.

Joel heard you coming but was too preoccupied fighting with the TV remote control to turn around and face you just yet.

"If I can get this damn thing to work I think they're showin' Scarface at ten, I know you said you ain't seen it so thought we could watch it."

"Sounds good," you spoke, your voice more honeyed than usual. "Hey, Joel. Do you think this will be comfy enough?"

He whipped his head around quickly, ready to give you the same kind of answer he did whenever Sarah asked for his opinion in a changing room. It took a second for him to register what he was looking at, but when it clicked he dropped the remote to the floor and turned his whole body to face you.

"What the hell," his face turned bright red, unsure what to do with his hands. You could give him a few ideas.

"You not like it?" You asked, voice low as you walked slowly in his direction.

His trousers began to tighten around his hardening cock and you smiled, glad that you were indeed on the same page.

"Course I- I, what the hell are you playin' at?"

"Come on, Joel. I gotta make up for interrupting your peaceful night somehow."

You closed the gap between you both and placed a hand delicately on his chest, tracing circles with the tip of your long, manicured nails.

Joel swallowed hard.

"This ain't right." He said weakly, his eyes betraying his words as they devoured the sight of your body before him.

"Cut the shit, Joel. I know you want me, and I want you."

He didn't answer, but instead threw you over his shoulder and carried you up to his bedroom, placing a couple of firm smacks on your ass as you wriggle against his strong grip. Your stomach did backflips, exhilarated at the prospect of what was about to happen.

Upon entering his room, he threw you roughly onto the bed and worked at undoing his belt as you scrambled onto your back, resting on your elbows.

"Y'know what I really thought when Tommy called, tellin' me I needed to come pick you up?" He said, although it didn't sound much like a question. "I thought, this dumb slut needs some sense fucking into her."

You moaned at his words, basking in the side of him that you knew always existed.

“Thought t’myself, she needs teachin’ some fuckin' manners f’once.”

Joel stalked around the side of the bed and sat and patted his lap. Wordlessly, you shifted your weight next to him and dangled your legs over the side of the bed.

He brought his right hand in between your thighs, making you shiver at the feeling of his coarse fingers grazing your skin. He ran his fingers up and down the length of your thigh, each time stopping short of the hem of your skirt.

"This is what you want, ain't it sweetheart?" He spoke lowly, voice gravelly and as rough as his touch. Each night spent tangled and alone in your sheets, fingers grazing your soaked folds with his name on your lips felt redundant. Nothing could come close to the feel of his skin on yours.

Pulling you from your trance, he slapped your inner thigh hard when you didn't respond. "Need t'hear you say it."

"Yes,' you moan through gritted teeth, surprised you can even find your voice. "This is what I need."

Sick of his incessant teasing, you clamber onto his lap and hook your fingers around the back of his neck.

"But I think you need this just as much, Mr Miller. You must get so lonely in this house all by yourself. Sarah always tells me how you never have any lady friends hanging around."

You straddle his lap and grip his neck for support, softly grinding yourself on the hardness of his lap. He moves a hand from your waist to roughly seize your chin, tipping your face down to meet his gaze.

"Your old man must've forgot to teach you some manners, little girl." His low voice tore through your body.

Joel hoists your skirt up to your waist and flips you underneath him in one swift motion. His body looms over yours, fingers trailing a rough and jagged line down to where you need him most. He moved at an antagonising slow pace, but you can't bring yourself to give into his little game by begging for more.

"Here's what we're gonna do, darlin'. You're gonna be a good girl f'me and tell daddy exactly what happened tonight." The mouth on him.

The way your body writhed and squirmed at his words didn't go unnoticed. With no warning, he plunged two thick digits inside of you and held them deep in place, his face inches away from yours.

"N'if you stutter, or lie, or say anythin' I don't like for that matter, you'll be over my knee, red-raw," his fingers curl inside of you and you bite back a moan, desperate to not let him have the upper hand.

"No matter how much you cry those pretty little eyes out, I won't quit 'til you've learnt somethin'. Understood?"

You suck a breath in through your nose, a sharp sting reminding you of the open wound still decorating your face.

"Yes, sir."

part 2 coming soon

taglist: @cool-iguana @nostalxgic @chaotic-mystery @beardedjoel

[autumnalsteahouse]

listen listen ,, what about when you’re sitting on the edge of a rocky pier at night with your fave and you finally work up the nerve to put your head on their shoulder? It would be quiet aside from the soft waves rolling onto the rocks, a few seagulls could be heard from the sandy shore. The reflections of orange, white, and yellow from the city around them do a subtle dance on the surface of the ocean.

denki kaminari would freeze. He’s such a flirtatious goofball most of the time; hiding the fact that he’s completely and utterly in love with you by playfully throwing out offers of a date or how cute you’d be together. Each time you laugh it off — thinking that this is how he is with everyone — he does too without fail, just happy to be around you. So when your head carefully lands on his shoulder almost too perfectly after sitting in a comfortable silence, he doesn’t have any corny pickup lines to lighten the mood of the sudden vulnerable vibe change. It’s such a small action, but he feels his heart in his throat. “A-are you cold?” he’d ask.

“Not really.” you’d hum back.

He lets the moment sit, gradually becoming more at ease.

“Hey… hypothetically, how would one go about telling a friend that they’ve been in love with them ever since he used too much voltage and became an absolute dunce in front of the whole class all those years ago?” You mumbled out, still calmly gazing at the city lights that dot the shore.

He felt his heart jump in his chest before swallowing too loud in his own ears, “hopefully just like that.”

Looking down at you, he saw a growing smile, “yeah, perfect.”

Oh shit.

sero hanta would simply smile. Not an ear to ear grin, but warmer. cozier. You were folded- arms wrapped around your knees, your side comfortably pressed against his. Personal space was never a thing between you two; people were so confused as to how you two weren’t dating yet. It confused Hanta too, and yet, when you two were alone together- especially like this- it already felt like you two were together together. There was no pushing pressure to change anything. In attempts to not move too much, he adjusted his arm to land right next to your curled up figure; supporting himself as he exposed more of himself for you to lean against.

It stayed silent until his voice was added in with the ambiance, without thought, “I really like spending time with you.”

No, that wasn’t right.

You pulled away from him, body now turned to face him to get a better understanding as to where this was going.

“Well, no —“

you tilted your head, confused, “Sero what are you trying to say?”

He couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, “this is so stupid— I like you… you know that, right?”

bakugou katsuki would reflexively stiffen up. you guys have really been through the thick of it, learning the ins and outs of what it’s like to work together. After hard days, the both of you would find yourself here, basking in the stillness- Still in noise, movement, and feeling. But today, he needed a little more than stillness— he needed comfort. It wasn’t something he thought was necessary, but the simple gesture of putting your head on his shoulder erupted a surge of emotions. A wave of panic crashed over him the same time the collection of large rocks got another wash of water.

What was he to do?

You looked so small against him, so delicate compared to how you hold yourself during the day. This is a new type of vulnerable he’s not only witnessing, but feeling.

He doesn’t want you to move.

“You fight so hard everyday to protect this world from evil- is it wrong of me to want to protect you from the same thing?”

something tugged at his heart; the familiarity of a softness from childhood in the forefront of his mind.

His mom��s curry waiting for him after a long summer’s day of running his own hero agency. The flavors were so comforting, especially after taking a few spills trying to stabilize his quirk. a well earned reward.

his breath suddenly caught in his throat, how could he just have realized?

“as long as I can protect you in turn.” he mumbled, attempting to ignore the newfound pounding in his chest.

[rinkrats]

🥺 that mike lange story. But also those tags #sid loooves christmas #he loves giving presents #looks good in red #piles on the pounds fast #post hockey career as santa 😂😂👌🏽👌🏽

he loves his mementos and presents and is COMMITTED to them. scrapbooking. matching jackets. little pills with hidden motivational messages~*~ his love language is gifts and neck smooches and stalking geno. relevant right now are some anecdotes i sent a friend earlier this year for dorky sid gifts fic fodder:

1. Crosby's constant thoughtfulness would be impressive from anyone, much less someone of his stature.

"Sid always texts me happy birthday, he's always asking me like, how's Russia?" Evgeni Malkin said. "We talk and message all summer. He asks me how my skates are. He knows, like, everything. He follows my Instagram, I think (laughs)."

In addition to having a handle on those little details, Crosby is constantly providing those around him with memories and mementos. If the team is on the road and goes, say, sightseeing or to a sporting event and takes a group photo, Crosby will later send a framed copy to everyone.

When Ron Hextall and Brian Burke watched their first Penguins game in person, Crosby is the one who approached head equipment manager Dana Heinze and asked for two used game pucks to give to the new GM and president of hockey ops.��

After the Penguins won in 2009, Crosby had jackets made for the three players on the team who had scored a Cup-clinching goal in Game 7: Talbot (Pittsburgh), Ruslan Fedotenko (Tampa Bay) and Mike Rupp (New Jersey).

"They were blue jackets with gold buttons, and each one had a patch on it that said 'GWG Game 7,'" Talbot said. "At one of our first team meals the next season, he presented us with the jackets and did a big ceremony with the music and stuff. We had a private room in the restaurant. I still have the jacket."

-The Consummate Teammate, Captain and Ambassador, Feb 2021

2. Merz: My first interaction with Sid was when we were on the bench, guys were talking about a teammate, and the first thing this 15-year-old says is, “Hey, guys. Let’s keep everything positive. Don’t talk about your teammates that way.”

Salcido: When we were getting ready for nationals, he found these little pills that you could put a hidden message inside. They unscrewed, and inside was a tiny scroll. He gave one to every teammate. … He had everyone fill one out. He didn’t tell anyone what to write, but he made it known that we all knew what the goal was: winning nationals. So we wrote on our scrolls, rolled them up and put them in the pill thing. We kept them with us everywhere we went.

-‘Is this real?’: Stories of Sidney Crosby’s year at a Minnesota prep school, May 2020

3. On “Butterfly Boy” Jonathan Pitre:

Though the Senators are his team, Sidney Crosby has always been Jonny’s favourite player. After the TSN documentary airs, Tina gets a call from the Penguins. Sid needs Jonny’s measurements. He wants to have a suit made for him by his personal tailor, Domenico Vacca.

“It’s the kindest, sweetest gesture,” Tina says. “Sid heard that Jonny went to a lot of games, so he wants him to look like he’s one of the guys.”

“I want him to feel like a pro,” Crosby says. “Here’s a guy who is going through something so painful, and his first thought is always, ‘How can I help others?’ When I was young, I’d watch on TV the players coming to the rink in their suits. That was a cool part of being an NHL player. I want him to feel that, to make it as real as possible for him.”

Tina tries to discreetly measure Jonny while she’s changing his dressings. But he’s way too smart for that.

“Um, Mom, why are you measuring me? Am I going for surgery again?” he asks.

“No, no!” Tina replies, trying to reassure him and come up with a good lie, all in the same breath. “The doctor needs them just to make sure they have proper dressings next time you are in.”

A few weeks later, the sharp navy blue suit shows up at their front door, along with a couple of ties, an autographed stick and a handwritten letter from Sid. 

“His eyes just light up,” Tina says. “Jonny always liked to be well-dressed, and he just loves having his own suit. It fits perfectly. He looks so good in it.”

-Beauties by James Duthie (2020)

4. Pascal Dupuis inspired his Pittsburgh Penguins teammates on their run to the Stanley Cup, and Sidney Crosby found a special way of driving that message home.

Dupuis retired in December with lingering health concerns because of blood clots. Despite his NHL playing days coming to an end, the veteran forward remained an integral part of the Penguins and was in uniform to hoist the Cup after Pittsburgh's six-game win against the San Jose Sharks in the Stanley Cup Final.

On Sunday, Dupuis brought the Cup home one last time as a player to share a special day with his family, friends and hometown fans.

"Yes, it does feel bittersweet a little bit," Dupuis said. "You get the Cup, you want to celebrate. But at the same time I got a gift by the mail [Saturday]. Basically, it's a book of all the pictures of all the good stuff we went through. It came from Nova Scotia, so you guys can figure out who it came from (Crosby), but he couldn't give it to me during the season, he saw me skating a little bit.

"And he sent it [Saturday], before my day with the Cup, so he knew what he was doing to get me right here," Dupuis said, putting his fist over his heart.

-Pascal Dupuis shares Stanley Cup with family, friends, Aug 2016

5. In 2011, Crosby was out of the lineup with a concussion, and the Penguins made their annual visit to Children’s Hospital.

Crosby got along so well with one boy there and was so touched that he later asked Bullano to go back... just the two of them, no cameras, no attention.

When Bullano and Crosby met for the follow-up visit, Crosby appeared clutching a pair of Toys “R” Us bags, filled with a Transformer toy the two had discussed.

“He literally bought every type of this toy they make,” Bullano said. “[Crosby] had never seen it before and thought it was so cool.

“There are no pictures of this. There’s no video. He was laying in the bed with the kid. They were just playing. We were there for over two hours. I got to know the mom really well because we were just sitting there.

“The kid had no idea. Didn’t expect it. They had no idea he was coming. We got there and he said, ‘Hey buddy. hope you don’t mind that I came back.’ The kid couldn’t believe it.

“[Crosby’s] crazy cool about stuff like that.”

What’s crazy is trying to recount the many times stuff like this has happened with Crosby:

• The Little Penguins Learn to Play program has been around for nine seasons, outfitting now 1,200 kids with free head-to-toe hockey equipment. Not only does Crosby serve as the face of the program — which the NHL has now adopted — but he helps fund it, too.

“There’s an awareness of what a person in his position can bring,” Penguins vice president of communications Tom McMillan said. “I think he activates that as much as anybody I’ve seen during his playing career.”

• After a recent practice, Crosby noticed a local family in the Penguins dressing room, approached them, introduced himself, learned their story and wound up giving them a signed stick.

Nobody asked Crosby to do that, and he wanted zero credit when discussing it a couple days later.

“For people who have the opportunity to come in here, people dealing with certain things, if you can brighten their day a bit or spend some time with them, it’s something that’s special for all of us,” Crosby said.

• A few years ago, through a team charity event, Crosby befriended a 4-year-old Amish boy with cancer. Crosby remarked to Bullano how much he loved talking to the boy because of how engaging the boy was and how he wasn’t consumed with technology. Crosby even tried to visit the boy but learned he had passed away.

• He learns the first and last names of the kids who attend his hockey school in Cole Harbour, Nova Scotia.

“Two kids came from Japan its first year,” Bullano recalled. “He was so blown away by that. He couldn’t wait to meet them.”

• Earlier this season, the Penguins welcomed Grant Chupinka, 24-year-old cancer patient, into the dressing room. Crosby chatted up Grant and his parents, Steve and Kim.

He spent his usual time — about two or three times the requirement. Gave the tour. Then found out the Chupinkas didn’t have tickets for that night’s game and decided he would pay for them to go.

“I’m sure he could just give them an autographed puck or something, but he takes his time to go out and see them and talk to them and get to know them,” Brian Dumoulin said. “It speaks volumes for him and who he is as a person.”

Spend any length of time with Crosby during his visits with those less fortunate, and a few things become obvious.

One, Crosby is really good at these. Smooth but not in a slimy way. Sweet. You know how when you’re around someone talking and they go out of their way to make eye contact with everyone around? That’s Crosby.

He’s also humble, always introducing himself like those he’s meeting don’t already know. Holding a hand is no issue. And Crosby is the rare 20-something pro athlete without kids who acts every bit like he does.

“It is not an easy situation to talk to someone with terminal cancer,” McMillan said. “A lot of people couldn’t do that. He has an amazing ability to do that and make that person feel good.”

Crosby has welcomed several Make-a-Wish kids and tries, if at all possible, to schedule such events for practice days — to maximize the time he’s able to spend.

He’s developed a special friendship with Patrick McIlvain, a soldier who nearly died when he took a bullet to the head in Afghanistan. McIlvain actually does physical therapy with one of Crosby’s sticks.

A former club hockey player at Cal U, McIlvain comes by every year, and the Penguins don’t even bother to tell Crosby. Either he already knows or immediately stops what he’s doing to come say hello.

“He’s not doing it to leave a legacy,” said Terry Kalna, Penguins vice president of sales and broadcasting. “His numbers leave the legacy. He’s just a down-to-Earth, good guy.”

Before a visit, Crosby has Bullano email him what is essentially a scouting report on who he’s going to meet. He likes to learn about them, their situation and what they’ve been through. As much information as he can ingest. Crosby never just swoops in, shake a hand and leave.

“As much as anyone has ever seen, he accepts the responsibilities of being not just a professional athlete but a star professional athlete,” McMillan said. “He views it as part of the job. Like coming to the morning skate. That’s just what you do.”

Put another way, “he owns those moments,” says Kalna.

Said Bullano, “He’s just a good human being.”

-When it comes to giving, Sidney Crosby does as much as he can, Feb 2017

6. When Crosby received a generous signing bonus on his Reebok deal, he wanted to share it with everyone.

“He gave everyone on the bus gifts,”  says Oceanic radio commentator Michel Germain. “Him sharing his bonus with all the people he’d been travelling with for two years, that impresses me greatly. I think the most important thing about Sidney Crosby is his personality and the kind of human being he is. What he exuded. The inner richness he’d already developed.” 

-Superstitious and generous, Dec 2006

7. also this simply because it makes me ;w;

Even in defeat — no, especially in defeat — Sidney Crosby proved why he wears the "C" for the Penguins.

After the game, with his heart sinking and his season over, the Penguins’ captain bent over, sank to the ice to pick up the puck, took it to linesman Tony Sericolo and then skated to his team’s handshake line.

I immediately thought of a View from Ice Level I’d written on Crosby making sure a retiring official was sent away from PPG Paints Arena properly. I knew picking up the puck wasn’t for the same reason that was, but I also knew, in some way, it was connected to Crosby’s awareness and respect of the game.

“It was for the Islanders,” Crosby told me after the game, his eyes swollen from a first round exit – by way of a sweep to make it worse. He told me how the winning team always wanted the puck, and it was his way of providing it for the Islanders.

Crosby looked me right in the eye as he told me this, just as he did with every other member of the media to come to him after the loss.

I could tell from those swollen eyes and the way he sat at his stall, by himself with his hands folded as he stared blankly, that Sidney Crosby is much more used to being on the receiving end of a puck when a series ends than he is at retrieving it for the winning team.

That scene. His swollen eyes. Staying in the locker room until most had left – talking to anyone who needed him. Most of all, though, picking up the puck that prompted my question in the first place and making sure the right people got their piece of their own history.

It all adds up to one thing: In victory and in defeat, Crosby respects the game above all else – just as he’s always done.

-Even in defeat, Crosby shines, April 2019

[nervousladytraveler]

The Alibi: Chapter 2

A continuation of the the wee fic inspired by the kiss prompt: A + B are in an argument, then they stop, just stare at each other, and then crash their lips together, because, like i said... fuck this shit Ross and Demelza (Requested by the lovely @veryflowerobservation)

______

Ross woke just a little after 9AM. He’d pulled the thick curtains the night before--it had been dark then so the gesture had been solely for privacy. The morning light was largely blocked, save one stubborn sliver that succeeded in illuminating a patch of carpet in front of the bed.

He looked over at the sleeping woman beside him. Demelza faced the wall and had failed at fully covering her body with the hotel bed sheets, and as a result her glorious back and the very top of her bum remained exposed. She might have been turned away from him but that didn’t mean she had given up on him. He knew he could sidle over and press himself close to her, and that she’d receive him warmly, eagerly. She’d made her feelings quite clear.

It had been a complicated night--and yet so easy. To finally be with her after so many years of constant companionship. Yes, they’d had years of steady loyalty to one another but he could see now that their friendship the last few months had been fraught with unresolved tension, overpowering attraction, and something deeper still. It hadn’t been one sided, only he’d somehow been blind to it all until the truth hit him like a cricket bat to the head as she yelled at him in the dark car park. Then he’d kissed her and it was as if he’d always known.

And as they lay together, in between feverish bouts of love making, they tried to make sense of what had just happened. They didn’t talk about the near-miss with the cops or Trencrom’s betrayal, just the sudden, seismic shift that occurred between them. And what it meant.

He was glad that she’d been able to say what he too felt, since he’d never be articulate enough to find the words or have the presence of mind to speak them.

She knows what I’m thinking before I even speak. No wonder she saved my neck last night, he thought to himself with a soft laugh. Yet somehow he knew not to take that for granted. She was her own person and he’d have to work harder to demonstrate his respect for her. No, respect sounded such a cold and clinical word and hardly sufficient. He revered her, he admired her, he was captivated by her, he desired her…

His thoughts never reached their logical conclusion of what all those separate emotions added up to because she exhaled a long sigh and he could resist touching her no more. He ran the backs of his fingers down her spine, then along the gentle curve of her hip, and up to her breast.

She turned to him with a smile, her eyes struggling to open.

“You tryin’ to wake me, Ross?” she asked. Her voice was sleepy, raspy in an innocently sexy sort of way.

He pulled her closer at once and kissed her eyelids, in a tender attempt to keep them closed. He felt a strange sensation in his stomach, not just butterflies but a whole swarm of wings fluttering up, perhaps to carry off his heart. His hands gripped her upper arms--the same arms that seemed destined to deck him yesterday seemed warm and reassuring now.

“No, stay asleep. It was an exhausting night--you earned a lie-in.” He kissed her lips now. Her eyes remained closed but her mouth opened wide to receive him.

How could he have ever considered himself alive before he knew that kiss?

He realised he’d sighed like a love-drunk school boy but he had no shame.

“Yes, it was exhaustin’,” she laughed, “but are you referrin’ to the events before or after we went to bed?” She put her hand to his rough cheek.

He laughed too, as though he’d caught the urge from her, like a yawn or a sneeze.

Ross had no business being so happy. His world was crumbling around him--he’d most likely lose his business and the police’s interest in him had not yet been resolved. And yet...

Yet those things mattered little. Was that really what his world consisted of? Because being with Demelza, loving her and being loved, that seemed a most significant triumph.

“Demelza, I meant everything I said last night.” He’d grown serious again.

“I seem to recall it was me doin’ all the talkin’ and you said a lot of ‘me too’...” she laughed.

“Okay, I meant everything you said,” he teased back.

“You sure about that Ross? Because I also called you stubborn and stupid…”

“And ‘an absolute arsehole’ don’t forget…” he added and rolled on his back with a chuckle.

“Oh Ross,” she said. “I didn’t mean those things…”

“Yes, you did--because I am. Maybe not ‘absolute’ but I can admit I’m ‘somewhat’ of an arsehole…”

She kissed his chest before resting her head lower on his belly. “Then you are my favourite somewhat arsehole, Ross,” she said.

“And you are the most meaningful person in my life…” he said, reaching out to touch her soft hair.

“Thank you for sayin’ that,” she said softly.

“Those were your words, Demelza. So thank you,” he said and pulled her up again so she was level with his head on the pillow. He stroked her cheek and looked into her eyes. They blazed with an intensity he’d come to know well over the last few hours together.

He wanted nothing more than to spend the day with her bare body wrapped around him, with inspired caresses, endless kisses. Even the ancients knew that nothing succeeded at keeping troubles at bay--or at least out of mind--like the pleasures of physical love.

But just then the telephone rang--a rapid string of jarring bleeps loud enough to be heard in the next room. The only person who knew they were there was Jinny Martin.

Good god, was her night shift not over yet? Shit hours for a single mum with two small children. Hoping he hadn’t made trouble for her, Ross switched on the lamp and picked up at once.

“Sorry, Ross. The police are here and want to ask some questions. I told them to wait and I’d call you down but they’re on their way up.”

“Thanks for the warning,” he said and rang off.

“What is it?” Demelza sat up in alarm and watched Ross furiously pull on his trousers “Ross?”

“It’s the police, they’re here. Apparently they want to ask me some questions...” He tried to sound calm.

“But how did they know where you were? What can this mean?” she cried and reached for her knickers.

“I don’t know. It seems so unlikely they’d find me...but stay in bed, Demelza,” he said and switched the lamp off again. “Pretend you’re asleep and don’t get up unless I call to you.” His voice was firm but gentle. He wanted to reassure her, to convince her he had a plan--though he most certainly did not.

He hadn’t fully buttoned his shirt when the knock came. It hadn’t sounded aggressive or urgent--was that a good sign? Or was Ross just reading too much into this?

“Just a minute,” he called gruffly, trying his best to sound as though he’d only just been roused. He put his fingers to lips and at his signal Demelza rolled over on her side facing the wall again. This time she had the covers pulled snugly up to her chin.

Ross ran his hands through his hair so it stood even more on end, then exhaled before he opened the door. He blinked his eyes at the glare of the hall light. It hadn’t been an act but added a convincing touch.

“Sorry to bother you, sir. I’m PC Pendarves, and this is PC Bunt, ” the taller constable said then he looked at his notepad, “Mr. Ross Poldark, is it?” He still had youthful spots on his face that were barely concealed by the sparse beard he was trying to grow.

Ross was confused by the question--surely they knew his name--wasn’t that why they were there? The constable didn’t seem sharp enough to be putting him on. But Ross’s bewilderment worked in his own favour--he didn’t look like a man who, for the past seven hours, had been expecting the police to call.

“Yes, what can I do for you?” Ross asked then glanced over his shoulder at the supposedly sleeping form just visible in the dark room. He pulled the door behind him so it was only open a few inches, and stepped into the hallway. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t want to wake my...friend.” His hesitation at what to call her publicly was genuine but again fit tidily into his ruse. If Demelza and Ross were to have had a secret rendezvous, he’d hardly have announced it readily to the first person who knocked.

“Right, Mr. Poldark. Erm...the clerk said the other guest in the room is Demelza Crane?” This time it was PC Bunt, the squat bespectacled constable who spoke, trying not so subtly to get a peek at the woman in the bed.

“Carne,” Ross corrected. “Demelza Carne.” Instinctively he shifted his position to fully block any further view. “Do you need me to wake her…?”

“No, no sir. I don’t think so.” The first constable said and cleared his throat, seemingly embarrassed for his partner. Perhaps he wasn’t so young after all. “Yes, well, we’re making inquiries about a missing person.”

“A missing person?” Ross asked and hoped the relief wasn’t visible on his face.

“A Miss Rosina Hoblyn. Her father reported her missing day before last.”

“Oh?” Ross wondered why they were talking to him about this. “I’m not sure how I can help you…”

“We’re talking to all the guests with rooms facing the road,” Pendarves said as if reading Ross’s thoughts. “You see, a neighbour ‘cross the way, saw a young woman who fit Miss Hoblyn’s description last night right out in the street. A bit of a disturbance it was--she seemed to be having a row with someone. Then left in the same someone’s car.”

“On Church Road?” Ross twisted his brow as he took this in, an expression of questioning concern, which disguised his renewed panic at the presence of traffic cameras. No, he and Demelza had entered the hotel from the rear and were never even on Church Road.

“Yes, this happened right in front of the yoga studio,” Bunt offered, unable to hide his smirk that such an establishment had recently taken the place of a perfectly useful off-license.

“I’m afraid we heard nothing. We’ve…erm...” Ross paused. His sheepish expression was both genuine and well-played. “We’ve been in all night.”

“So you heard nothing? All night?” Bunt said. “This would have been around 11:30 PM?”

“Yes...I’m not sure what time we checked in. You can check at the front desk or I can wake Miss Carne…she might remember.” Ross took a chance here. It was better to be honest that they hadn’t even arrived until quite late.

“No bother, Mr. Poldark, if you didn’t see or hear anything of note outside the room,” Bunt said and laughed to himself, apparently amused by it all. He seemed to buy that Ross had other things on his mind the night before--perhaps he’d even been imagining the scene in his head.

“And the neighbours?” Ross took another chance here. “Did they observe…?” It would be good to know who was up last night and what they knew.

“Nah, they didn’t hear anything either. Okay, thanks for your time, Mr. Poldark. Here’s our cards if you or Miss Carne think of anything later…” PC Pendarves said and fumbled in his pocket before PC Bunt beat him to the punch and triumphantly handed over his own slightly crumpled business card.

“Of course,” Ross said and nodded politely. He waited until they began their retreat down the hallway before he slipped back into the room.

Even at the sound of the door closing, Demelza remained motionless, as though she was holding her breath. Without switching on the light, Ross snuggled next to her and buried his face in her hair.

“It’s okay,” he said softly. “They’re gone.”

She turned to him, and in the dim room he could see her eyes were wide--and wet.

“Demelza,” he said and wrapped her in his strong arms. “Don’t be scared. I’m still here.”

“I know, Ross,” she said bravely. “Tell me everythin’, I only heard bits. Is it true? The police are askin’ after Rosina Hoblyn?”

“You heard most of it then. Seems she’s missing--or so her dad says. I’m surprised he even noticed, the drunken lout that he is,” Ross said.

“Ross, did you tell them that you know Mr. Hoblyn? And you know her?”

“They didn't ask, and to be fair, I don’t really know Rosina—I know of her. I don’t think I’ve ever exchanged a word with her.”

“But Ross, you know she’s datin’ Charlie Kempthorne, don’t you? Or at least she was until recently. I think I just heard she broke it off with him.”

“I’d forgotten that. And it’s a connection I’m not happy to make. Ugh! I wonder what she was doing here in Truro?”

“And whose car she got into…” Demelza added.

“You heard the police say that as well?”

“Yes...Oh Ross, you don’t think Rosina could be in trouble, do you?”

“Well, if she is, at least the police are looking for her.”

“And not for you?”

“So it would seem…for now anyway.”

“Ross, I’m knackered as hell but my heart is racin’...I think we should go home.”

“I hate to say it, but I agree.” He kissed her lips, lingering for as long as he could, and dreading to pull away. “If you’re still tired later, we can take a nap together back at Nampara,” he suggested.

“No, Ross,” she said quickly. ”Remember we can’t be seen together.”

“What? That’s ridiculous,” he laughed. “The police now know we’re together and the whole point of you being my alibi is that people know about it…”

“Only some people--the right people at the right time. And we have to make it look like we want to keep it a secret. Otherwise why would we be out in the cover of night and sneakin’ off to a hotel in another town when we could just shag at your place or mine? Think about it, I mean, we both live alone…”

“I don’t. I have a housekeeper, remember,” he reminded her.

“Hmm...we have to decide if we tell Prudie, don’t we? No, maybe just leave some hints and clues. Better let her think she’s put two and two together on her own. She’ll probably start squawkin’ and she’ll want everyone to know she figured out our secret…”

“I don’t like this, Demelza. You know you’re not just my alibi, don’t you?”

“Yes, and I know you don't really think I’m ridiculous,” she said with a smile, reminding him of one of the insults he’d hurled at her the previous night that he’d repeated just now.

“But it is ridiculous that we’re together now…” he began.

“What?” she laughed and pretended to hit him.

“Let me finish.” He caught her hand in his and kissed her fingers.“We’re finally together, after months of idiocy…”

“Years,” she corrected him.

“Okay, years...and it’s ridiculous that we have to pretend to not be.”

“Not all the time,” she added.

“But to see you, to do this again,” he said, running their joined hands down her naked body, ”has to be secret? Or planned enough to seem secret? In any event I can't be with you freely, when I want, when we want. I think that’s going to destroy me.”

“No, Ross. Don’t you understand? It’s worth it to keep you safe--so we can be together. And it won’t be for long. As soon as this Trencrom business blows over, we can let the cat out of the bag.”

“Just so we’re clear, as much as I love the cat, I hate the bag. I hate it very much,” he said and laid his head on her chest.

“I know, Ross. Believe me, I want the whole world to know I’m yours.” She put her free hand to his head to play with his curls. A small gesture but one that moved him more than he expected.

“Me too,” he sighed, then not unpossessively put his hand on her hip. “And hopefully it will be over soon.”

“And no more Trencrom?”

“No more. We might be homeless and unemployed but…”

“Ross?”

“Never again. I promise you.”

----

DS Vage threw down his bacon sandwich with disgust when he saw PCs Pendarves and Bunt return from their door to door inquiries. He already knew what they’d say: No one saw anything, sir.

Oh, they'd swear they’d been thorough, but if they truly had, would they be back so soon? The door knocking, the questioning of witnesses--some of whom didn't even know yet that they were witnesses--that was real police work. And these idiots...what did they think the job was going to entail? High speed police chases? Suspects coming in willingly?

He glanced up at the photo of Rosina Hoblyn he’d pinned to the wall. She wasn’t a resident of his town but he’d be damned if she’d become a victim on his turf.

“Okay...what did you find?” he asked with a sigh.

“That yoga bird, she’s something, isn’t she?” Bunt laughed then turned serious when he saw his boss’s expression. “No sir, I mean Miss Rebecca Ellery said the same thing to us in person that she’d reported over the phone.” He looked in his notebook to get the exact words. “A young woman, blonde curly hair--dye job but with good low lights, approximately 5’4…”

“Oh come on,” Vage said with a groan. “That’s a bit specific, isn’t it? Did you question her on that? Did she tell you what shade of hair dye was? Icy Platinum or Natural Ash Blonde #004? Could she tell you what salon she’d been to?” he asked sarcastically. “And really...five four exactly?”

Everyone these days thought they knew it all. It came from watching too many police procedurals on the telly.

“No sir, I mean yes, sir,” Pendarves quickly interrupted. “Miss Ellery explained that she’d been a hairdresser before she opened the yoga business and it was her...erm ‘stock and trade’, she said. And she says she’s five four herself and this other woman was standing next to the lamp post under that rude graffiti so she could get a sense of her height. She also said she’d complained about the graffiti but no one has responded to her…”

“Alright...go on,” Vage said reluctantly.

“Yes, so the young woman was shouting at a man...Miss Ellery thought he was a man but she wasn’t sure how she knew it--she said that herself…”

“So this other person ?”

“Miss Ellery didn’t get a good look so she couldn't even say hair colour but they-him or her-- remained in the driver’s seat of a lime green Vauxhall Astra GTC.” Bunt was apparently very proud of himself for keeping an open mind about the driver.

“She was specific about the make and model of the car?” Vage raised a brow.

“Yes, she was, sir,” Bunt nodded. “And the lime green colour--she said it looked ‘super douchey’.”

Maybe Ellery was a reliable witness after all, Vage thought to himself.

“Okay, then the girl shouted something to the driver that sounded like ‘You’re a dickhead and you deserve what’s coming for you…’ But he--sorry, the person--didn’t say anything back, least not loud enough that Miss Ellery could hear from her window above the studio. But this person must have said something because Rosina...erm I mean the blonde girl, stopped shouting and got into the car...”

“Just got in? Signs of any coercion?”

“No physical force according to Miss Ellery. Do you think she knew the driver?” Pendarves asked.

“It’s possible…” Vage said.

“Then the Astra drove away north on Church Road,” Pendarves added.

“We’re checking the CCTV,” Bunt said quickly.

Bloody idiot. Of course the CCTV would be checked--DS Vage had already put in a request himself.

“And the neighbours?” he asked. He wanted to hear about the rest of their morning’s work.

“Only three residential flats on the east side of the road,” Pendarves explained. “One just above Miss Ellery--and they’re in Spain for the month. Another, number 74--Mr. and Mrs. Nathaniel Stephens heard some noise around 11:30 but it had stopped by the time they went to the front window--their bedroom is in the rear, you see. They saw nothing, closed the window, and went back to bed. Number 78, was Mister Bart Maddock, who openly admitted he’d been high--he said that--to the police!--and he was painting so he was ‘oblivious’ to what was happening on the street.”

“Painting? Like walls?”

“Naw, he’s an artist,” Pendarves explained. “That place is sorta a loft, big flat for just the one person but mostly taken up by what he called a ‘studio’. Two studios on one street--never knew so many arty types had moved in.”

“Rents will rise as a result,” Vage grumbled. “Okay and the hotel, the Star and Garter?”

“Three guest rooms faced Church Road. Ground floor is the pub, closed at 11 of course…”

“Of course…”

“Proprietor and night desk clerk heard nothing but their offices are in the rear. The rooms are all on the next floor up. Older woman at the end of the hall took her hearing aids out so she heard nothing and the couple next to her put their baby down to sleep just after 8, then fell right asleep themselves after that.”

“Poor sods. That’s family life, isn’t it?” Vague sighed.

“The couple nearest the stairs though…” PC Bunt let out a chuckle.

“Well? Yes?”

“They were busy shagging all night…”

“Aw c’mon, Bunt…” Pendarves groaned.

“What?” Bunt objected to being called out. “The man said as much as said himself! According to him, they were in all night and were ‘otherwise occupied’ so they heard nothing.”

“Nothing? Great…” Vage sighed.

“Lucky bastard, that one. I got a glimpse of the friend waiting in his bed,” Bunt chuckled then he saw his boss was not amused by tales of him leering at sleeping women.

Dance of Life, Vage was thinking. All the stages of love and life on one hallway. First there’s early love and passion, then settling down and starting a family, finally you’re old and alone. And behind which door is my life lived these days?

He really didn’t consider himself old, though he knew his colleagues did, especially the newly minted constables like these two. At least he was still fit and had all his hair--and his hearing. Could he still be considered a family man though? His own children were grown and far from home. He missed them but not the sleepless nights of teething and ear infections, or even the teenage years when they proclaimed how much they hated him right before they asked him for the car keys and 20 quid.

And door #1? He could barely remember the days of needing that sort of urgent and exhausting sex, but he’d certainly been there in his younger days, with his Tina. What a looker, she’d been. Blonde, curvy, with those great legs. His Tina who was no longer his--she’d left him right after their youngest went off to the army. He should have known she was slipping away from him when she’d switched her hair colour from Natural Ash Blonde #004 to Icy Platinum.

“Okay, and you got names and contact information of all these witnesses--or ‘not-witnesses’ as the case may be?”

“Yes, we got names,” Pendarves said quickly. He had not in fact gotten contact information but assumed he could request it from the hotel at a later time if really necessary.

“Deaf bird was…” Bunt began reading from his notepad again.

PC Pendarves coughed and shot him a look.

“Hearing impaired guest,” Bunt started over, “was Elizabeth Triggs from St. Just, the family with the baby were the Tregeagles--Benjamin and Sarah, didn’t catch the baby’s name…”

“Also Ben...Benny they said,” Pendarves added. “From Falmouth.”

“Right,” Bunt said, “and our ‘sex’ couple was Demelza Carne--we didn't talk to her, she was asleep--and Ross Poldark.”

“Wait a minute,” Vage said, a bell ringing somewhere in the back of his mind.

“Sorry sir. Thought it was respectful to let her sleep. Should we have talked to her?” Pendarves asked.

“No, that’s quite alright. But did you say the man was called...Ross Poldark?”

[savagetrickster]

BNHA | ‘Cause I’m a fool

— BNHA BOOKCLUB BINGO EVENT  —

anime |  character: bnha | todoroki shouto

words: 1.7k 

prompt/crossed out: “Theme Park Date” 

Themes/Warnings: mildly angsty, pinning

Inspiration/Song: a playlist of Korean OSTs from various dramas

Beta-readers: @etegomanere, @hanniejji, @pixxiesdust, @dragonhrte​,@todoscript (who also gave me her input about the title and banner though it’s still kinda plain ><)

Tags: at the bottom of this post <3

You’ve been friends with Todoroki Shouto long enough to learn just about anything you needed to know about him.

From the strife within the Todoroki family to the ones in his heart.

You were there right from the start. 

Being the daughter of the head servant serving the Todoroki family, you’ve grown up with him from the corners and shadows of the household. 

You’ve watched him struggle, fall, and climb back to his feet again. 

His body was always covered in bandages. 

Some scattered across his skin in white patches, while some stretched long and wrapped around his limbs. No matter how hard he tried to appear fine, you could always see his peeling, inflamed skin peeking out from underneath the bandages and the trembles in his body he tried so hard to suppress around you. 

Even with the bandages littered across his body, they could not hide the pain he held in his eyes.

But you’d never seen him shed a single tear. 

Instead, his tears seemed to be permanently embedded into him from the way he carried the weight of the duty cruelly thrusted upon him.

At the end of every day, you often found yourself sitting quietly beside him on the veranda under the stars, offering him a bit of comfort with the soothing tune your mother sang to you every night.

If you could put a smile on his face, albeit how small or weak, it would be enough.

You followed him through the years, thriving on your strong devotion to be the net that could catch him if he fell. 

You didn’t know what compelled him to, but all those nights he unveiled the secrets behind the pain in his eyes...

Something about that made you want to stay by his side, to be the one to shield him so he didn’t have to hurt anymore. 

You’ve never been one to be flustered over your lack of quirk,but he made you wistful for one that could nullify the pain he had in him.

All you wanted was to see him smile from his heart. And that was one thing that you swore you would do, no matter how long it took.

You could never really place a finger on why you were so adamant about it — friendship was always the reason that sprang up on you.  

Shouto wasn’t as aloof with you as he was with other people.

But seeing how he had to deflect the attention he drew left and right like they were pesky flies he didn’t want to deal with, made you worry.

Were you a nuisance who he felt bad shoving away? Someone he had to force himself to interact with?

Maybe you should just stay in your own lane?

You grew more convinced of your doubts the longer you stayed in the Todoroki residence. The smiles you always managed to curl on his lips when you were kids got harder to find on his face, even with the tune you hummed.

The ice he built around him just seemed to grow thicker and thicker in the passing years.

Around you, the ice would only thaw a little.

Your hopes were always raised by the subtle softening around the icy edge in his eyes that you couldn’t help but notice when he spoke to you or you to him. 

However, they always fell flat when the distance between you two on the veranda remained the same later in the nights. 

There was more silence than words, and quite often, you found him hastily averting his gazes the moment your eyes met.

Unfortunately, you never got the chance to find the answers behind his behavior around you. There wasn’t enough time.

Right before middle school, your mother found another job in a few cities away. 

This meant you no longer lived in the Todoroki residence, and this also meant that nights on the veranda with him had to come to an end as well.

But being forced to part with him was what helped you understand the reason why your eyes were always on his back.

It wasn’t merely...plainly out of friendship.

It was not his status, his wealth, or his handsome face you couldn’t bear to leave behind — it was neither of the things that drew attention to him. 

It was the scars he bore in his very soul and the hidden tears under the frost in those heterochromatic eyes. 

His strength to stand strong in the face of adversity.

It was everything that made him...him that made it clear. 

…that you loved him. 

Several years had passed since you left the Todoroki residence with your mother.

Now, you’re in the third year of high school and he was in his, at the reputable hero school — U.A. High. You only knew this because you’ve watched the events broadcasted on your television. 

You were no longer in contact with him. 

There were exchanges of texts in the first few weeks after you left, but these fizzled out to mere birthday wishes, and eventually to nothing at all.

His responses to you were prompt but you couldn’t help feeling like an annoyance to him. 

The same questions never stopped haunting you — especially were you a nuisance who he felt bad shoving away?  —  while you were still with the Todoroki. 

Your fingers were always hovering over the keypad in the chatroom you shared with him, making the blinking cursor dance back and forth in the text bar, stuck between eating up words and producing words.

Words from his side too ceased after yours and they never popped in on your notification bar again.

Your eyes lingered on the last text you sent to him four years ago,

Happy birthday, Shouto-kun! 

There was nothing else following it. 

Nibbling on your lips thoughtfully, your fingers hovered above the keypad. 

You tried to pluck up the courage to wish him again like you did back then. 

Seconds ticked by before your finger thumbed down on the back button on your screen to exit the chatroom.

As always, whatever amount of courage you mustered always crumbled away quickly as it built.

A heavy sigh sifted through your lips as you stopped before the main entrance of Neverland, glancing up from your phone to the burst of screams coming before you.

Along with jittery adrenaline carried by the voices on the other side, the towering sight of the red-black tracks peeking over the main gate instantly lifted you right out of your brooding, pensive mood. 

You couldn’t help but break into a grin as you squinted eagerly under the bright morning sun for a sign of Shinsou who told you on a text that he had alighted at the bus stop outside at the main road.

You’ve always wanted to visit the new theme park ever since its opening was announced across the nation a month ago. 

The tickets sold out fast so unfortunately, you only managed to order two. 

When they arrived safely in your mailbox, your first thought, reminded by the date — 11th January — on the tickets, going to Shouto was scrapped as quickly as it came.

Shinsou, who you’d grown close enough to be considered your best friend in middle school replaced him quickly. 

The grin on your face widened when your eyes fell onto the familiar figure of Shinsou who was glancing around for you. 

“Hitoshi!” You called out.

The excitement flooding your veins lighted your eyes as you watched him walk towards you, hands in his pocket.

Caught up in the high you felt, you failed to notice the small amused smile curling his lips and how his eyes softened at the child-like eagerness your eyes practically danced with.

Ever since he woke this morning, his phone had been constantly vibrating with messages from his friends, flooding his messaging app with birthday wishes.

And like every time, he found himself waiting for one.

He couldn’t help the hopes he harbored whenever his eyes went straight to the sender’s name the moment his phone pinged with a new message.

He didn’t know why, even after four years, he was still waiting for your name to appear. 

He always found himself staring at the chatroom he shared with you, even when he knew there was nothing to expect, remembering with a bitter taste in his mouth, that he was the one who had stopped reaching out to you. 

Of how he had just left your wish on his 14th birthday hanging awkwardly in the silence because he forgot and only realized by the time your birthday passed.

Attempting to pick up from where you two left off was like standing on a sandhill; no matter how much he wanted to send something over, he could never find the right words — the courage his attempts thrived upon to break the ice fell as soon it rose, interfered by wisps of doubts.

Wondering if it was better if he left you alone instead, he recalled the way you’d always wept for him. Reminding himself that the pain he felt reflecting in yours was why he chose silence on the veranda then.

Could he bear to drag you back into his problems, to watch you break down for him again when you were finally free? 

He never attempted ever since then. However, that didn’t stop him from being wistful.

It’s been years but his heart still soared and sank every time his phone vibrated on this day.

Longing...wishing you were still part of his life.

Because things were different now. He was different now. 

Even with the same issues lingering in the background, he was happier now. 

A long sigh dragged through him as his eyes lingered at the bottom of his inbox where the chatroom he shared with you remained silent, a huge contrast to the active ones it was buried under.

His fingers hesitated, grazing lightly over your name indicated on it.

“Todoroki-kun!”

Shouto looked up from his phone to find Momo hunch over before him, apologizing for making him wait between harsh pants.

—He wasn’t lonely anymore. 

“Yaoyorozu.” Shouto acknowledged her with a small smile.

—friends are what he has now.

Like Momo who cared so much she specially purchased Neverland tickets for his birthday. 

He couldn’t help feeling grateful for her enthusiasm in celebrating his birthday with him, from the way she stuttered and blushed inviting him to go with her.

As they began walking toward the main entrance of the theme park, his eyes fell onto his phone once more with emptiness reverberating faintly within him.

His life was in a better place now but your absence did not sit well with him. 

And it never would.

|  Next

Tags: @bnhabookclub​, @shoutodoki​, @sugacookiies​, @wesparklebitch​, @prismaroyal​, @apricotjihyo​, @morenabambinii​, @warriorsofficial​, @hanmarazon​, @sauce-pansexuals​, @justsomekid00​, @lilcura1209, @ewwis​, @winkenthusiastic​, @thegalxe​, @yurioseokies​

[usuccc]

Please talk more about that au, villain Alfred is a guilty pleasure 🙏🏻

*sweats* You and me both! Oh man, where to begin. First of all, thanks for the interest! It means a lot. I can’t be concise, so I’m gonna put this under a huge ‘Keep Reading’ for whoever is interested. Like for real there is a whole ass essay below that cut. I left some stuff out cause it’s already a ridiculous length, but I got the gist of it.

Leave it to me to take a silly gag au and go completely off the rails with it. It’s honestly hilarious gg me.

This au takes place in some fake big city with dark synthwave-y aesthetics where the skies are constantly gray in the daytime from smog and pollution. Over the last ~20-30 years, Jones Enterprises has risen up as the most influential and powerful company in the United States, with their headquarters in (fake big city’s name). They have hands in many industries, spanning the manufacturing, retail, and technology spheres. Over the past 5 years, especially, they’ve seen massive, nearly unbelievable growth, and unfortunate events or sell-outs have conveniently fallen upon their competitors, allowing them to create monopolies in several industries. They also have the government in an iron grip and no one is willing to stand up to them for fear of the consequences. Most people mysteriously feel compelled not to confront them anyway, especially those who live closest to their headquarters.

Francis was an employee for Jones Enterprises’ main headquarters. He saw how overworked and underpaid his colleagues were. Bogged down by overwork in his first year, he eventually tried to get away with slacking as much as he could. After witnessing one of his close coworkers have a heart attack and almost die from the stress of working there, he changed gears and started speaking out on behalf of his colleagues. Some of his motivation came from feeling partially responsible for what happened, and he wanted to evoke positive change across the company instead. He tried time and time again to organize strikes after his attempts to organize a union were completely shattered. The turnout was very little in the beginning, and soon fizzled out to just him. He stubbornly pressed forward on his own anyway and was fired for it. Finding other work turned out to be impossible, his firing acting as an unemployment death sentence. It was not uncommon for employees fired from Jones Enterprises to be shunned from ever finding a decent job again, and Francis’s situation was even worse given the bad publicity he received from his strike attempts.

Ready to resort to desperate measures, Francis started seriously considering moving back in with his parents in France and figuring out a new plan. Jones Enterprises had gained significant influence in Europe too, so there wasn’t a guarantee he wouldn’t experience similar problems there.

Before he could buy a plane ticket, he was visited by Kiku Honda, a stranger with an unassuming appearance. Long story short, Kiku had come to the US with the alias as a simple tourist. His family was presently responsible for safekeeping a secret and powerful magical artifact with mysterious origins. 

The artifact was one of two powerful stones, both of which were in existence since the beginning of mankind. These stones were antitheses of each other, representing and contributing to major moral conflicts throughout history. They were both drawn to chosen human hosts who were destined to face each other. The pink stone, which Kiku was in possession of, gained and gave magical power through love, equality, and hope/healing. It formed a positive, nurturing, non-invasive connection with its host, and gave them the power to protect and inspire hope in others. The other (purple) stone gained and gave magical power through greed, subjugation, and fear. It gave great wrath and influence to its host, whose powers would grow exponentially over time as the two stayed connected. This stone would physically embed itself in its host’s heart, eating away at their mind slowly to bring out the absolute worst in them and shave away at their morals and inhibitions, until they were nothing but a heartless monster. Tendrils would spread out from the stone throughout the host’s body, growing in size and number the longer they were connected.

Kiku had long suspected that the unnatural growth of Jones Enterprises was connected to the purple stone. He had gradually implanted connections in Jones Enterprises and had been monitoring the situation for clues of a potential host. The senior leadership of the company was very hard to crack, however, and the CEO had significantly limited his public appearances in recent years, but Kiku would not let it rest. Any of the higher ups in the company could be a candidate for suspicion. While investigating, he heard of and even saw some of Francis’s brazen attempts to challenge the seemingly invincible company. He was impressed with Francis’s ability to stand up to an insurmountable foe, especially given the influence of the mysterious compelling force that kept most others in the city silent. He wanted to get information from Francis about his experience at Jones Enterprises and to offer him an opportunity to rebuild his life for his bravery. The stone, which Kiku always kept on his person, ended up choosing and bonding with Francis to both of their surprise, and boom Magical Strike was born.

-----

Now onto Alfred and Arthur. Alfred is the son of the founder and CEO of Jones Enterprises and his ex-wife. His parents divorced when he was still a baby, and his father did not remarry. Alfred’s mom remarried right away and had another son, Matthew. 

In his home life, Alfred often felt neglected and overlooked compared to Matthew, whom his mom and stepdad preferred and doted on. His birth father ignored him in favor of growing his company as well. This caused Alfred to act out at school and extracurricular activities, always overshadowing Matthew whenever possible and rubbing it in his face. He often got in trouble at home later for it. When Alfred got a little older, he frequently snuck out after these fights and went somewhere to be alone. One night, he walked down to the neighborhood park and saw another boy alone by the swings where he usually liked to go to mope. This boy was a few years older than him and muttering angrily to himself. Feeling a sort of weird camaraderie for this other pissed off dude, coupled with the fact he’d never seen him before and was curious, Alfred took the plunge and went over to talk to him. Alfred and Arthur’s first meeting was a little rocky, but the two quickly found themselves warming up to each other. Many coincidences found them meeting in the same park after a bad day, and the two eventually bonded and made a thing of it. Alfred found that with Arthur he could open up and be more authentic than he let himself be with his other friends.

By the time he hit high school, Alfred emotionally detached himself from his mom/stepdad, and tried to be a little nicer to Matthew, although their relationship was never close. He and Arthur still met often outside of school, and Alfred tried to reach out to him at school too, but Arthur limited those interactions due to his unfavorable status as an irritable loner. Alfred continued to seek out other people’s attention, forming a ton of superficial friendships with his classmates. He became obsessed with being number one at everything he did and getting everyone to like him to patch up his residual feelings of loneliness and inadequacy, and also to hopefully impress Arthur, whom he secretly had a crush on. Excelling in his sports clubs, and even skipping a grade in his academics, Alfred felt like things would be okay if they kept going the way they were.

Then Arthur abruptly confided halfway into Alfred’s freshman year that he was moving back to England that year after he graduated for family reasons. Alfred didn’t take the news well, and when the time came for Arthur to leave, it hit Alfred hard. They promised they’d keep in touch via phone and online, but that did little to comfort him and his other shallow friendships often made him feel worse. The feelings of loneliness and inadequacy returned tenfold. It was around this time that Alfred was contacted for the first time by his birth father in years, asking to meet and catch up. Alfred readily accepted, not taking a moment to think it through in his low emotional state.

Alfred’s dad was getting into some weird shit since the divorce. He’d been putting obsessive efforts into expanding his company, making strategic partnerships, attending all kinds of rich, bougie events for networking purposes, and exploiting his workers to maximize profits. Despite his efforts, his returns were decreasing and the existence of some key new competitors put him in a tough spot for future growth. When conventional methods didn’t appear to be making any progress, Alfred’s father started hanging around some wealthy, sketchy social circles. It’s through a series of events with these groups that he learned of and obtained the purple stone. After seeing it reject and devour an unfit host before his eyes, he decided he was in desperate need of its supposed power, but he couldn’t risk using it on himself in the case he was judged to be unfit. He had to use it on someone inconsequential if things went wrong, but at the same time malleable, so he could ensure they used the power to further his goals. 

Alfred’s dad put on an act when Alfred arrived, making it seem like he wanted to bring Alfred back into his life, raise him up like he should have been doing all those years. Alfred soaked it up like a sponge, and his dad appeared to follow through on his promises, engaging with him and frequently making secret visits so they could spend quality time together. After a whole year of building Alfred’s trust, his dad was able to convince him to put the stone to his heart, assuring him that only he could do it and he trusted Alfred to make their company and the lives of so many people who depended on it great. The stone embedded itself in Alfred’s chest, causing him to pass out from the pain. When he woke up, still in one piece, his dad was able to calm him down and convince him to keep it a secret, even from the people he was closest to.

-----

Some other tidbits of info:

Arthur and Alfred did keep up communication after he left for England, and he considers Alfred his closest friend. Life got in the way plenty of times, though, and they couldn’t always keep up the most consistent communication. Still, they did what they could and were able to meet in person a few times even. Arthur obtained a degree in England and worked his first job there. But after that, he moved back to the states and got a job at Jones Enterprises, thrilled to surprise Alfred about it. They have a heartwarming reunion. Alfred, himself, graduated high school early, got accepted into an Ivy League college on a scholarship, received his degree in finance and business management due to his piece of shit dad’s wishes, and was being directed by his dad to start using his powers of influence on their competitors. At first, he justified to himself that the outcome would be good and that the competitors he was going after were bad people—which some of them definitely were—but over time, he found himself doing things he never would have before (to unhappy employees for example), caring less and less about the people that were impacted.

-----

So yeah, the main events take place about 10 years after Alfred becomes the host for the purple stone, having plenty of time to grow his power and lose himself to the stone’s influence in secret. When Francis makes his debut as Magical Strike, Alfred starts infusing some of Jones Enterprise’s key weapons tech with his magic and sending people after Francis, who is still learning his abilities. Then, in the latter half of this arc, Arthur becomes the main antagonist against Francis, having just scratched the surface of what’s really going on with Alfred and thinking (in denial) this will somehow help him. At the beginning of the second arc, there would be growing tension between Alfred and Arthur when Arthur can’t explain or keep excusing Alfred’s actions anymore. Alfred would lose control and almost hurt Arthur, whom he had taken the most care to hide his darker side from, which would cause Arthur to join forces with Francis, desperate to find a way to get the purple stone out of Alfred and save him somehow. Alfred mcfuckin loses it when he finds out.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Canary Mary & the Miners

A/N: Um. I don’t really... know what to... *big sigh* Listen. Here’s the thing. I’ve been having some trouble finding the time and the inspiration to write in the last few weeks. So I decided to turn to some writing prompts in hopes that one of them would spark SOMETHING even if it was just a few paragraphs to shake the rust off. So I came across one that simply said write about a character named Canary. And a few paragraphs turned into a few thousand words pertaining to Ryan Brenner and of course, a new character named Canary. (It also reignited the spark for me to jump back into the world of Passing Through, which is what I am currently working on and I am EXCITED to share what comes next for that story!) This part right here though, actually takes place well before the events in PT. Ryan is roughly 24 years old here. It’s pre- Jackie, pre- losing Cowboy...pre-learning a lot of things, young, still establishing himself as a person Ryan Brenner. (and some cousins for good measure) I truly hope you enjoy. 

Fun fact: Carbondale is home to the first commercial rail line. 

Warning: brief mention of drug use, drinking 

Word count: 4,761

The first day of any trip home for Ryan was always a busy one. From the minute he’d set foot in Aunt Holly’s kitchen to the second he finally shut his exhausted eyes in the guestroom bed upstairs, the day was always full of tight hugs, loud welcomes, curious questions and more food than any of them could eat. If the weather was right for it, he’d walk down to the beach with whichever of his cousins happened to be around. They’d kill a 6 pack of beer and fill each other in on the stories they’d rather not share with the rest of the family. Once Ryan had come home in the middle of a summer downpour, and the rain, and even more so the lightning, made the trek down to sit in the sand impossible. Instead, Ryan, Jimmy, Taylor and Fitz sat on overturned buckets and bags of mulch in Holly and Alan’s shed, laughing and teasing one another as they dodged drips from the shed’s leaky roof. After supper he’d sit out on the porch with whoever was still awake and alert and play a few songs, the tempo of them slowing as the sky filled with stars. 

The second day was always more calm, all the excitement out of the way. He’d wake up in the guestroom, the mattress slightly too short for his long legs but still far more comfortable than most places he slept while on the road, and turn to the shabby wicker bedside table. Ryan didn’t get much mail, just a few letters and postcards, but reading them was always one of the highlights of his visit. Aunt Holly would save them for him, bundling them up in short stacks tied with blue yarn. Although she would always give them to him almost immediately after he unlaced his boots, he would always tuck them away with his things upstairs, knowing that he’d have more time to read them in the morning. 

On this particular trip, when Aunt Holly had stuffed the bundle into Ryan’s right hand while his left arm curled around Taylor’s shoulders and he ducked out of the way of a spiraling Nerf football that Jimmy had just lobbed from the top of the stairs, he noted that the stack was a little thicker than normal. He smiled to himself, fingers hooking beneath the thick yarn. I sent out a few more’n normal this year too. 

As he’d gotten better as a musician, he’d found more opportunities to meet and play with and learn from other musicians in his travels. Some he never even spoke to, simply set up on the same corner and agreed on song choice without words, with just chords and nods. Others he found himself forming friendships with, realizing that they had more in common than just their musical talents. His first few years on the rails had been spent mostly with Cowboy, Virginia and eventually Georgie. But more recently he found himself traveling solo, wanting to stay longer in some cities, wanting to skip town faster in others. He found himself wanting to stretch his limits and learn more about who he was, not just as a traveller or an artist, but as a person. And he realized that one of the best ways to learn about himself was to interact with as many people as he could as see what he felt, how he responded, who he was drawn to and why. 

What he’d learned leading up to this visit home was that he was someone who craved genuine connection, and sought out others who wanted the same. For every one meaningful connection he made, there were at least twenty interactions with people whom he could tell had forgotten his name before they’d even made it three steps, even after they’d just spent a few minutes chatting, dropping a few singles into his case and telling him that he sounded great. Some people, he knew, just wanted to be liked. They craved acceptance from everyone they met. Ryan learned that he was not one of those people, and he liked that about himself. Only one that’s gotta be okay with me is me. 

But when he found those rare individuals who looked for the seams in things and pulled them apart to peek at what was inside, he held onto them because he knew that those were the people who had the best chance of understanding him and helping him understand himself. Thus began the growth of the non-biological branch of his family tree. Robin and Oz and the rest of the crew he spent his first West Coast summer with, Georgie, Cowboy and Virginia had been the base of that branch, but other chutes were beginning to form now too, resulting in thicker stacks of mail and more reasons to purchase stamps. 

Waking up in the too small bed, he stretched his neck to the right until a small pop released some tension there. A satisfied sigh, the kind that only came from getting a good night’s sleep, slipped from his lungs as he sat up blinking in the dusty morning light. Rising with the sun was a hard habit to break, even when he was staying somewhere that he didn’t need to vacate immediately like he was now, but Ryan didn’t mind. He enjoyed having that time to himself while the rest of the world was still quiet. 

Dragging a hand through his sleep disheveled hair, he glanced over at the bundle of letters and postcards, and once his fingertips had finished fixing the errant strands, they reached out to brush over the frayed ends of the yarn that was cross wrapped around his mail. Blue this time. He smiled to himself wondering if he’d be leaving with a scarf or a hat at the end of the week. It wouldn’t be cold enough for a scarf  for another month or two, but he knew that it was important to Aunt Holly that she send him off with something to keep him warm. It was important to him, too, he’d learned, her scarves warming more than his neck on several solo winter nights. Clearing his gravelly throat, he pulled the covers back and set his feet down on the floor. 

Rifling through his pack, Ryan pulled out his last clean pair of jeans and a dark green long sleeved thermal, a freshly sewn patch on the left elbow courtesy of Virginia. Before making his way down to Georgia he’d spent two weeks with her and Cowboy as they made their way through the Midwest, parting ways outside of Chicago. There were certain things that Ryan always had on his person- twine, sunscreen, his notebook- and with Ginny it was a travel sewing kit. He twisted his arm to look at the patch, a dark brown oval cut from an old corduroy button down that had lost more buttons than it retained, and smiled. He ran his fingers over the stitches that held the patch in place. She’s gettin’ better at this. The nail of his pointer finger snagged on a crooked stitch and he chuckled. Cowboy prob’ly gives her plenty to practice on.

He finished getting dressed and grabbed his hat, bending and folding the brim with one hand before stuffing it into his back pocket. Aunt Holly had a strict no hats in the house rule, and even though he knew she was still asleep, Ryan wouldn’t think of breaking it. She’d knock it clean off my head ‘f she caught me. It wasn’t a guess, he knew from experience. How to pick his battles was another thing he’d been learning lately, and waiting a few extra seconds until he was outside before putting his hat on wasn’t worth causing trouble. 

Picking up the bundle of letters from the side table, Ryan left the spare room, closing the door behind him. The hallway on the second floor was narrow and dark; there were no windows because the hall wrapped around the stairwell, and there were rooms on all four sides. But Ryan had spent enough time in that house to know where to turn without having to see, and in just a few familiar steps he was descending the staircase, socked feet moving quickly and quietly over the creaky steps. He made a quick stop in the kitchen, setting up the coffee pot to brew, waiting until he could hear it hissing and clicking as the heat plate warmed up before turning towards the front door. This thing’s older’n I am. Just like shrimp and grits and peach cobbler for supper on the first night of his visits were staples, Ryan would always show his appreciation by making sure that everyone woke to a full pot of dark roast on the second day. 

He didn’t wait for the coffee to brew though. Instead he found his boots in the pile of shoes by the door, digging one out from under a red canvas sneaker that seemed to be missing its mate. Whose is this? Taylor’s? He picked it up by the lace and flung it deeper into the pile. What’d she do with the other one? Sticking the stack of letters under his arm, he tied his laces loosely, shaking his head at the image of Taylor walking home with only one shoe the night before. I bet Jimmy was messin’ with her. Though none of them were as rowdy as they used to be, all of the Brenner cousins had held onto their propensity for mischief when they gathered in groups of two or more. Some things never change. 

Other things did, though. He took the stack back out from under his arm as he straightened up, eyeing it and guessing that it was thicker than the last one by at least five pieces. Passing the pencil marked molding that measured the heights of he and his cousins at various ages, he opened the door and headed out into the bright morning to read his letters. He settled into the angled Adirondack chair, the wood worn smooth after decades of use and abuse, and untied the knotted bow, smiling at the little pop as the yarn let go of the knot. 

Dropping the yarn into his lap he sifted through the pile until he found Robin’s loopy lettering, always in brightly colored ink. He plucked out two letters addressed to him in red and purple respectively, as well as a postcard from Culver City that was so smudged that all he could read was the last line- Oz and I miss you, Brenner. No matter what else she wrote in her letters, whether she was writing to tell him that things had gotten dark for Oz again, or that things were going well for them, she always ended them with that and he could hear her unwritten next line: Get your ass back out here! He was happy to see, after reading as much as he could of the smudged postcard and both letters, that things seemed to be on an upswing for Oz. One of the letters even mentioned that he’d been clean and sober for a year and Ryan beamed. I gotta get out there soon. Maybe this spring, after Montana.  

There was a birthday card from Nikki, the girl he’d gotten his first tattoos from. Happy Birthday, handsome!! Was all it said, with a line of little x’s, her name signed below them, more x’s dotting the two I’s. Ryan felt his lips twitch under his beard as a slight flush climbed over it, and he recalled all the teasing he endured from Georgie when it became clear to the rest of the group that there was something between Ryan and Nikki. Been a while since she saw me. He ran one hand over his scruffy facial hair before lowering it to look at the roughly inked black lines and dots that marked the spaces between his knuckles. Inhaling a slow breath through his nose he could almost smell the woman’s strawberry shampoo as she leaned close, holding his hand in one of hers and her tattoo gun in the other, her chunky silver rings cool against his skin. Wonder what she’d think now. Nothing had ever really happened between the two of them. Nothin’ more than kissin’. 

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips and he sighed. She was somethin’ else though. Wonder ‘f she’d… He tapped the card twice against the knuckles of his opposite hand before shuffling it back to the bottom of the pile. Nikki’s not really...neither of us wants to stop movin’ around and… He shook his head. Nikki was a great kisser, that he was sure of. She was vivacious and spontaneous and lived her life in bright colors and never failed to make Ryan laugh when they spoke on the phone. But even through all the physical attraction Ryan knew that there would never be anything serious between them. She’s a good friend… just not a good fit for me. He snorted to himself as the sun rose above the treeline. ‘Nd I’m not a good fit for her. He wasn’t looking for a relationship anymore like he might have been last time he went out West to see Nikki and Louie and the rest of them. But if a relationship found him along the way he knew it would have to be right for it to stick. ‘Nd if it ain’t gonna stick there’s no point.     

There were postcards from Cowboy that said very little, if anything at all other than a quickly scrawled You’d like it here, Brenner, or Good spot for buskin’. It was like a breadcrumb trail of suggestions for when Ryan didn’t know where to go next and wasn’t ready to repeat or circle back up with anyone else. The two of them- three, counting Ginny- had spent enough time together to know what small town charms and quirks would peek the other’s interests, or what tiny details in big cities the other looked for. Le Claire, Iowa. Laramie, Wyoming. Las Vegas, Nevada. Point Pleasant, New Jersey. The images on Cowboy’s postcards were always faded, and Ryan knew it was because the man would always hastily pull the first card he touched from a display in the window of a gas station or convenience store. No one sends postcards anymore so they sit in the sun. A faded river boat. A washed out field of cattle. The strip, sanded down by sun and time spent in a gift store. A ferris wheel, maybe. Doesn’t matter what’s on the front. He made a point to set the cards from Cowboy aside so that he could jot down the cities in the back of his notebook, where he kept a running list, crossing them off after he’d taken his friend’s advice to visit them.

By the time Ryan was down to the last postcard the sun had breached the tree line, brightening the sky and waking up the birds. The quiet morning filled with the chirps of sparrows and warblers, each trying to outdo the other in the complexity of their songs. Somewhere in the trees behind the house a mockingbird stole pieces of each, taking credit for the others’ creativity in order to fit in, and from the gargantuan oak in the front corner of the yard a small cluster of nuthatches erupted squawking from the middle branches. But Ryan hardly noticed the wildlife around him because his mind was on a very different bird, one certainly not native to Georgia. He read the front of the postcard in his hand, vintage linen print in bright colors spelling out Greetings from Carbondale Pennsylvania, a small white mountain laurel blooming beside the state’s Capitol building, and he knew who the card was from before even turning it over. Canary Mary. 

His eyes widened with excitement as he flipped it around, and though he’d never seen her handwriting before, it matched his expectation of her penmanship perfectly. Her letters all stood at a hard slant and the bottoms of her y’s, g’s and j’s curved back around to underline the words they occupied. Ryan always picked up on the ways that a person’s handwriting reflected parts of their personality, and Mary’s rebellious spirit and intensity were visible in the way she pressed her pen to the cardstock. As he read he could even picture her leaning casually in the corner booth at Lyle’s, layers of shawls and sweaters and long necklaces draped around her as she wrote. 

Ryan- 

First off I hope the rails have been good to you. Hope you and Georgie Porgie are lookin’ out for each other, and I hope y’all had a good summer. I hope you got after some of the things you were lookin’ for when you left here- but only some, ‘cause you always gotta have more to go after, remember that. There’s always more. 

Second, just wanted to see if you’n Georgie were interested in swingin’ up this way come October. There’s this music festival ‘round Halloween called Blues’n Boos - don’t hold the name against me, I didn’t make it up!- and I’m thinkin’ of tryin’ to be part of it, but only if you two come and back me up with your strings. I can sing, you know that, but I ain’t never sounded better’n when you boys stumbled into Lyle’s, and those couple’a duets you sang with me? That crowd won’t be ready for Canary Mary & the Miners I’ll tell you that! So I’m crossin’ my fingers you’ll say yes. You got my number, honey. 

-Canary 

Ryan hadn’t felt the smile creeping up his cheeks as he read, but when he finished he realized he was wearing it all the same. Canary Mary & the Miners, huh? He shook his head and laughed under his breath as he turned the card back over. He traced the block letter P with one finger, thinking back to last fall and the week or so he and Georgie had spent in the small coal town of Carbondale. They’d hopped off in hopes of finding somewhere to busk, but the weather had other plans, a heavy, chilly rain soaking them to the bone within minutes and making playing outdoors impossible. Heading towards the first establishment they saw that they didn’t think they’d be turned away from- a dive bar called Lyle’s, the chipped paint on the lit sign above the door beckoning them like a beacon- they carried all of their things inside and were immediately met with the sound of piano keys and Mary’s sultry, smoky voice. Knew we were in the right place then. 

Where ya goin’ baby? And how you gonna get there when I’m gone? 

Tell me where ya goin’ baby? And how you plannin’ to get along? 

I’m not tryin to doubt ya no, no… just thought I’d ask ya for fun. 

Rain water dripped from the ends of his hair beneath his hat, running down the side of his nose as he stared at the woman on stage, completely captivated by her performance. Damn. His mouth dropped open and he let out a breath, turning to his friend. “You hearin’ this Georgie?” 

Despite the fact that the woman was clearly ten or maybe even fifteen years older than they were, Georgie’s eyes twinkled mischievously as he answered. “Oh yeah, Ry, I’m hearin’ this alright.” Ryan smacked him on the arm with the back of his hand and laughed knowing that even though Georgie was a sucker for a pretty face that could sing, it was more about the voice than the face, and he respected this woman’s talent. 

They had ended up settling in at the end of the bar nearest the small stage, the bartender allowing them to stash their bags behind the bar while they had a few drinks and waited out the rain. They’d listened to three more of the woman’s songs, but it was those first few lyrics that he’d heard that had stuck with Ryan, and not just the words themselves, but the feeling she had put into them when she sang them. 

Where ya goin’ and how you gonna get there? 

It was supposed to be a song about independence and Ryan felt that in the confident yet carefree way she sang, seeming to play with the listeners’ ear as well as their heart and their ego. But he also realized that he didn’t know the answer. Where am I going? If someone asked me… what would I say? He sat there, brow all wrinkled as he contemplated the bubbles in the foam of his beer. Georgie had gone off to the restroom leaving Ryan by himself, but his stool didn’t stay empty for long. 

“That beer got the answers you’re lookin’ for there honey?” Wha-

Ryan looked up in time to see the woman slide into Georgie’s seat, one shoulder shrugging to try to keep her sleeve from falling down it, the other arm waving at the bartender and motioning for a glass of water. She lowered her arm then and turned to face Ryan head on, her wide eyes rimmed with dark liner and fringed with long black lashes. A stud dotting the side of her nose and a small scar cut through her top lip but did nothing to dull her smile. She was beautiful, but not in the most conventional sense. Her beauty came from the way she moved and how she carried herself, how sure she was when she sang and spoke and smiled. I’ve never seen anyone like her… she’s… It wasn’t attraction but awe, Ryan looking at this woman like a moth might look at the light- slightly stunned and not sure if it would burn him or show him the way.

The bartender had appeared with a water, reaching over the bar to hand it to her. She took it, winking at the man and thanking him before drinking a big gulp and wiping a hand across her mouth. Several bracelets and bangles knocked about on her wrist as it fell to her lap, her attention turning back to Ryan. “I take it that’s a no then?” 

“A...no?” Ryan shook his head trying to clear it enough to focus on the moment and the woman who was speaking to him. “Sorry?” 

“Mmm,” she hummed around the glass as she took another sip, her eyes brightening above the rim. “Don’t be.” Ryan blinked and felt himself relax, the furrows in his forehead smoothing back out at her casual manner. “I just meant...guess you’re not findin’ what you’re lookin’ for in that drink. But then again, who really does, huh?” She set her glass down and extended a hand to him. “I’m Mary. ‘Round here I go by Canary Mary.” She gave a playful roll of her eyes, tossing a wave around the place. That makes sense. Voice like that in a town like this. She laughed. “‘Cause if I ain’t singin’, you know somethin’ ain’t right. Ain’t that right, Lyle?” She called the last part out to the kind, balding man who had allowed Ryan and Georgie to tuck their stuffed packs safely away. 

“That’s right darlin’. You’re our songbird alright.” The man called back as he poured two beers from the taps. 

Mary laughed again, eyes returning to Ryan’s as his fingers wrapped around her hand. “And who are you, honey?” 

“‘M Ryan,” he answered, giving her hand a small shake as she squeezed his in return. “You sound...you’re really good up there.” He nodded towards the stage with his chin as she released her grip on his hand. 

“You think so, huh?” She cocked one eyebrow and Ryan tilted his head. Yes. How could you- “Well I s’pose you’d know.” What? She smiled and pointed to the case that was standing up between Ryan’s legs. “Saw you come in with that baby on your back, so I know you know what you’re talkin’ about.” 

Ryan shrugged and looked down at the thick lacquer on the bartop. “Oh I dunno, I just-” 

“Hey that friend a yours you came in with, he play too?” She asked before he could downplay his talent or ability and Ryan nodded. He does. “How’s about you boys come up and play with me? You can be my band for the night.” She lifted one hand up, panning it in front of her as though reading the marquee on a theater. “Canary Mary & the Miners.” She laughed, the sound heavy and sweet like molasses. “C’mon I think it’ll be fun, what’dya say?”

Georgie had come back right at that moment, agreeing for both of them, and he and Ryan had spent the rest of the night crammed up on the small platform, playing a few songs with the woman who was part songbird, part sultry lounge singer and all heart. She’d leaned in to whisper into Ryan’s ear, urging him to join her on a song or two. At first he’d been hesitant because the only female singers he’d ever done duets with were Robin and Virginia, and he knew both of them well enough to know what they were feeling when they sand, how to match them. But Mary had put that hesitation to sleep with her next words. 

“Trust me, honey, what you were lookin’ for in that beer? You got a better chance of findin’ it in a song. So you wanna sing with me?” 

He had, and it had somehow felt...easy. As the night wore on and the number of patrons dwindled, Mary, Ryan and Georgie found themselves closing down Lyle’s, the three of them sitting in the only three stools that hadn’t been overturned and lifted up onto the bar. Lyle swept the floor, music playing softly from an old but still functioning radio, allowing them to finish their last round as he cleaned up. They’d gotten to talking, Mary sharing a little about herself and how she left home to pursue a life of music and whatever came with it, and Ryan had asked her if she ever worried that she’d made the wrong choice, or that she’d ended up in the wrong place. Is that… am I worried about that? I didn’t think I was but… 

“Only thing I ever ask myself, Ryan, is if I’m good with who I am in the moment. Only person that’s gotta be good with you is you, honey. If I’m good with where I am and where I’m goin? Then I know I didn’t make the wrong choice.” 

Where am I going, and how am I gonna get there? He tapped the card against his knuckle again, taking a deep breath in through his nose. He could smell the nutty aroma of the coffee he’d made, could hear the sound of his family waking up and shuffling towards the kitchen for a cup. Smiling as he let the breath back out in a sigh, he plucked the yarn from his lap and re-wrapped the bundle of cards and letters. I’m good with who I am… lot of it thanks to her. Canary Mary had taught Ryan more than he thought she knew at first, but as time went on and he thought back on the interaction, he wondered if maybe she knew all along that he needed some guidance, needed to be shown the way or at least pointed towards the light.  Either way, he knew his answer. 

It’s too early to call Georgie. Ryan squinted at the sun as he rose from the chair and stretched, his shirt lifting up to expose a thin strip of his belly, the morning air a cool shock on his skin. 

“Ry’n, you want milk’n your coffee’r no?” Huh. Guess Taylor didn’t go home last night. Must’ve slept in the living room. Her accent was always thickest in the morning when she wasn’t quite awake, like it was now as she called out the screen door. 

He turned away from the sun and back towards the house, tucking the bundle of cards under his arm and whipping the hat off his head. “Yeah, just a drop though. ‘M comin’ in now I can…” 

It was too early to call Georgie now, but Ryan knew that as soon as it was late enough to guarantee the other man would answer, he’d be calling his friend to make travel plans for Carbondale in October.

.

.

.

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[fasa-umich]

Kris Mallabo, FASA 2020-21 Co-Performance Chair

To cut the origin story short, I joined FASA and subsequently FASA E-Board because engaging in my Filipino culture has always been second nature to me, and I did not want my college experience to estrange me from my roots dwelling on the other side of the world. So, at the beginning of my term as performance co-chair, I had many plans and expectations ready to go. I had an anticipated timeline for performance events, inspirations for dances I wanted to conduct, and a solid vision of my sophomore year of college, month by month, lined up ahead of me.

Enter COVID-19, destroyer of plans, devil of expectations, and crusher of hopes and dreams. Prediction became the enemy, as did precedent. The lethargy of quarantine only amplified the helplessness and loss that plagued me as I watched all the opportunities and events I had eagerly awaited disintegrate in front of me, like a meticulously built sandcastle swallowed by the sea and leaving only wet lumps behind.

Alright, I digress. I’m exaggerating. Let an English major be a little dramatic: I don’t always get it out of my system when I’m writing fanfiction, you know.

First FASA performance! Something is awakened...

In all seriousness, the troubles of being a performance chair in the middle of a panna cotta made themselves clear very early on. Kalayaan was cancelled, and to fill the gap of summer performances, we had to quickly figure out a way to get virtual performances to work. We eventually succeeded, to both our relief and excitement. The satisfaction of a single success more than made up for all previously missed opportunities.

I feel like much of my term as performance chair worked out like this. To be transparent, frustration was a defining word of my time on board. Events were constantly cancelled due to COVID, and many of the cool ideas we had at the beginning of the year fell through. Because of this, however, the other defining word of my term was flexibility. I learned to quickly adapt to the constant barrage of cancellations and date moves, and we had to rely on our back-up plans more often than our actual plans -- bend, don’t break. As such, every time something worked out in our favor, it was a victory that negated every loss that came before it. There was no disappointment so great that a single accomplishment could not justify. The bottom line here can be summarized by the poignant lyrics of Chumbawumba’s sweeping 1997 ballad: “I get knocked down, but I get up again/You’re never gonna keep me down.”

I was very much wearing my shirt backward the entire day

If I am mentioning getting up again, however, I cannot do so without acknowledging what it was like being on board as a whole. ‘Teamwork makes the dream work’ is no exaggeration. Although there were rough patches, board members were there to support us through it all. In turn, I learned that support goes both ways and that it’s just as fulfilling to help out a teammate when in need. It seems as though you could always find help from someone, whether it be as a board member or as a friend. The line of professionalism did tend to get a little blurry from how close we were, but it certainly added to the fun I had while on board. The sheer amount of things this year’s board managed to pull off, despite it all, has never failed to impress me, and I am humbled to be a part of a team that contains such talented and driven people.

The talented and driven people in question

One last little divergence before I move on to my little awards ceremony speech segment. I would like to emphasize how proud/happy/excited I am about PCN this year and Performance’s role in it. In its unexpected finality, working through PCN to accomplish something so visible and concrete after everything we’ve been through feels like a sweet yet massive cherry on top. I am writing this after just finishing our last PCN practice of the year. It does not feel real. Almost nothing has, since that fateful March day a year ago, but oddly enough this does not feel like the end to me. I am so grateful that we had this one last opportunity to dance through Filipino culture with FASA, and I can’t wait to see the finished product. I get back up again, indeed.

Performance in the wild

Okay. Without further ado, the awards speech. Thank you, Bea, for being a performance chair inspiration. Thank you, Jason and Jolene, for roping me in your wacky hijinks (JJK supremacy). Thank you, Kate and Estelle, for being an amazing cultural team that pulled off PCN in a year where everything was uncertain. Thank you, all of 2020-2021 E-Board, for good times, for pulling me through bad times, for teaching me new things. Thank you, most of all, to Josh, my lovely partner in crime. Not only would I not have been able to do this job without him, but I would also not have been able to enjoy myself while doing it. With his charm and seemingly endless supply of energy, I truly do not think being a performance chair would have been half as fun without it. We balanced in a way where I could see how my weaknesses aligned with his strengths and vice versa, but we did not settle into a dynamic where he always covered my flaws. Instead, I think he inspired me to strengthen my own personal weaknesses, to find my own voice, and be more assured of myself. I will treasure the memories of the late-night bonding conversations and schemes that took place before elections and continued throughout quarantine until I idly rock back and forth in my chair at the old folks' home. In so many words: hey Josh, you're a fantastic friend and a freaking awesome co-chair. Thank you so, so much for being by my side for this rollercoaster of a school year.

Giggling fit in 3...2...1...

And finally, thank you FASA, thank you for letting me serve you as a performance chair in this ~unprecedented~ time. If someone had told me a year ago exactly what I was getting into, challenges and all, I still would have run for board because even a panettone could not pry me away from my love of FASA and FASA performance. I mean, talk about a found family trope. To me, Filipino culture has always meant the feeling of a warm, ensconcing hug, and I found exactly what I was looking for when I sought out UMich’s Filipino org on the very first day of freshman Festifall. I’ve grown to love this community like a second home, and in turn, this allowed me to grow into a better version of myself (fun fact: I never went by Kris before joining FASA, but somehow that’s just what I ended up being called here. I love it). With FASA, I’ve felt love and friendship and teamwork and all those other shounen anime themes, and I feel like I belong. It’s been fun, it’s been (mostly) safe, it’s been aw yeah FASA yeah. To any future FASA member out there: hold tightly to the open arms FASA welcomes you with. It’s going to be one hell of a ride.

*Friends theme song plays*

Cheers,

Kris Mallabo

[aquariusrunes]

The Superfriends AU (part 2.5)

It had been a long day. 

That was Nino’s only thought as he laid along one of the benches in the boys locker room. His arms dangling off the side as he stared at the ceiling tiles. 

The day started out with him waking up to a text from his best friend informing him that he would not be in school for the next week and a half. Apparently Adrien’s old man had been in deep talks with some sort of fashion god from America, and now Adrien was going to be one of her star models in her next collection. 

The deal closed last night and the Agreste crew was on a jet at five in the morning to get to Steel City USA as quickly as possible. Gabriel had apparently decided it was fine to not even tell his son about it. Adrien’s text had explained that he learned he would be going to America roughly twenty minutes before they left for the airfield. 

Nino, of course, told Adrien to have a good time, keep him updated, and that he would email Adrien every assignment and all the notes he missed. And because he was a good friend like that, Adrien promised him lots of photos and a cool souvenir. 

But Nino hadn’t been prepared for class without Adrien. 

Going to class in general he rarely felt prepared for anymore. It was a full on warzone the minute the seats were filled. With Marinette and her crew taking up the back of the far side of the classroom and Lila and her girls sitting towards the front on Nino’s side. Adiren and he still have their original seats though, as did Chloé. But today, Nino was the only one in the front row. 

No one really commented on Chloé’s absence, the girl’s appearances were getting fewer and farther between as the year went on. He suspected she might be working on a transfer of some kind, seeing as how she and Lila didn’t get on well and the blonde would rather die before joining Marinette’s side. Of course everyone asked were Adrien was, and Nino happily informed any who asked. 

But then he made a mistake. 

Nino had mentioned how Adrian was going to be doing this new collection with Damian Wayne. And as expected, Lila went off. 

Apparently, Lila and Damian were childhood best friends. Her parents had known Bruce forever and the two couldn’t wait to set up their children on playdates whenever they could. In fact, Lila was practically an honorary Wayne. Bruce called her his future daughter-in-law because she and Damian were practically engaged. Though Lila wasn’t sure if she had romantic feelings for the notoriously stoic boy, he was very much in love with her. Damian had been chasing after her for years, apparently. 

Nino was so done. 

He then mentioned the campaign was for one Edna Mode. Now, Nino knew very little about fashion, he would admit this to anyone who asked. He would never pretend to know about fashion. But he did know that Edna Mode was the biggest name their was. Not only did she design the highest end clothing, she also designed superhero costumes! And she was well known as some kind of god to all in the fashion world. 

Cue Lila mentioning how she, of course, new Edna. They’d met during Milan Fashion Week several years ago. Apparently Edna drew immediate inspiration from the Italian girl. Lila had been Edna’s personal muse ever since. Edna would fly her to fashion shows all over the world. Lila would be Edna’s star model, the face of Mode, if her mother hadn’t thought Lila too young when they first met. Also, Edna liked to send her cloths, you know, Mode exclusives that literally coast more than all of Paris!

Apparently, Edna was like a grandmother to the girl.

The worst part of Nino’s day so far had to be the fact that, while Marinette’s crew tried to immediately disprove Lila’s statements, Marinette herself wasn’t in class. Nino still wasn’t sure where the girl was. He hadn’t seen her all day, and he was honestly a little worried. He texted her a few times but his messages didn’t go through. His mind was racing with possibilities of what Lila could have done. 

And now, he was sitting in the boys locker room. Alya, Rose, Mylène, Juleka and Sabrina were out in the cafeteria, hanging on every word of Lila’s story. It was about how she saved Ace, Bruce Wayne’s personal therapy dog, from oncoming traffic in Gotham City two summers ago. Nino had needed a break. And the boys locker room was perfect, seeing as all the boys Nino knew, and thus would interact with him, didn’t believe a word that came out of Lila’s mouth.  

“You look rough bud.” Nino’s head lifted slightly, seeing Kim leaning against the set of lockers to his right.

“Feel rough dude.” 

Kim laughed before sitting down next to his friend. “Needed a little break from the rat queen and her pack?” He asked. 

“Yeah…” Nino closed his eyes. “Please do not call my girlfriend a rat.” 

“Sorry.” 

The two sat in silence for a few moments. Kim was the first person, after Marinette, to find out that Nino was working undercover for the girl. He’d even changed Nino’s contact name in his phone to The MoleTM. And the two had rekindled their childhood friendship rather quickly. Kim was the person Nino had known second longest out of everyone in Bustier’s class, the first being Marinette. 

Kim also took the liberty of informing the rest of Mari’s crew where Nino’s true loyalty lied. It was nice having his old friends back, especially because he missed hanging out with the boys. Still sucked that they had to keep up an act anywhere Lila could possibly be though.

“DC texted me last night.” Kim said. “Asked me to spread the word. She’s gonna be out of town for a little while.” 

Nino slowly sat up, removing his hat as it began to fall and placing it in his lap. “Out of town?” He asked. “Where’d she go?”

“America.” 

“Dang.” 

“Yeah,” Kim scratched the back of his head. “She said that she had totally spaced about letting anyone know. Apparently she’s got a Great Aunt who lives overseas and she’s gonna go spend some time with her. She’s also gonna get to see one of her cousins. She sounded really pumped.” 

“Why didn’t she just text everyone?” Nino asked. 

“Mari said that when she hit my contact, she thought she was texting in the groupchat. She only realized after she sent it, so she quickly asked me to spread the news. Apparently she was texting from the plane before they took off. She left real late last night.” He shrugged. “Anyway, she doesn’t have international coverage, so it’s gonna be radio silence for the next ten or so days.” 

“Ten days?” Nino questioned. 

“Hey, she got permission from her parents, and all the work she’ll miss from teachers.” Kim twisted to be facing Nino directly. “More importantly, I overheard that sunshine’s gone too.” 

Nino nodded slowly, unsure of where this was now heading. 

“Adrien, despite taking a stance as Switzerland, is one of Lila’s biggest buffers. Still not sure what the kid’s got on her, but whatever it is, it keeps her a least a little in check. And with DC gone, who knows what she’ll do.” 

Nino nodded, suddenly aware of just how serious this could get. Of course if Lila said anything Mari’s crew would come to her defense, but rumors involving Marinette always seemed more potent and to have a harsher affect when the girl wasn’t around to directly defend herself. This would be a very dangerous week. 

“I’m on guard.” Nino said sternly. “Everything I hear, no matter who it’s from, is going straight to you guys.” 

Kim gave a sad half smile. “Remember when school didn’t feel like some sort of secret war?” He asked. “When all we had to worry about was if Chloé would accidently akumatize someone and if whatever they were serving in the caf was edible that day.” 

Nino responded with his own half hearted smile. “Ah the good ol days, may they return to us at some point.” 

Kim stood, patting Nino’s shoulder. “Keep us posted my dude, you’re our only life line in these trying times.” He watched his friend walk out of the locker room. He’d give it a few more minutes before he left and returned to that most cursed lunch table. 

This week was going to be hell. And something absolutely awful would happen before it was up, he could feel it in his gut. And despite what most people thought of him upon first glance, his gut was never wrong. 

He pondered briefly about what would have happened had he listened to it when the Liar first showed up. Oh how different things could have been. 

… 

His knee bounced rapidly, foot tapping against the carpeted floor of the Wayne Enterprise Jet. His fingers rhythmically pounding against the small table set between his seat and the two across from him. His green eyes glaring back at him in the reflection of the window. It wasn’t that he hated flying, or that it really even bothered him, he just enjoyed it more when he was the one in control of the plane.

He had asked, of course, but his father had said no. Even though he knew how, and his father was perfectly aware of how good of a pilot Damian was.

Yes, he didn’t like this pilot. The flight to Smallville had been fine, he supposed, they only hit a minor patch of turbulence that he was sure they would have avoided if he had been piloting, but it was fine. They had gone to Smallville to pick up Jon who was helping his grandmother with some big event happening at the Kent Farm. All the supers were there though, so when Bruce had called and asked Clark if Jon could tag along this week, his father agreed. He was already out of school anyway. 

Now they were flying to Steel City so he could be forced to model with some famous Parisian and his lovely cousin and some other girl who’s name he’d already forgotten. Damian never really modeled before, but Edna seemed confident in him. It was also an excuse to see his cousin. He hadn’t seen her in person for a long time. 

The knot in his stomach tightened and the rhythm of his fingers increased. 

Finally his ears popped, just as a hand softly rested over his own. His fingers flattened out against the table as Damian slowly glanced to his side. Sitting next to him was a sixteen year old boy who was rarely pegged for his age.

Colin Wilkes looked almost nothing like his ten-year-old self that Damian had met six years ago. The venom coursing through him had long since began to alter the boy’s body, making him function as a better host. He was very muscular, with a physique that rivaled that of a professional football player. He had also gotten taller, coming just an inch or so above Damian’s new height. Colin’s face was the one thing that never seemed to change, still round and doughy with stubborn baby fat persistently clinging to his cheeks. His tan skin coated in freckles, the number of which would very depending on the season. His scraggly bright orange hair still hung in his eyes, the bright hazel irises were currently searching Damian for something, some sort of chink in his armor. 

Colin’s eyes were very good at finding chinks in his armor. That is, after all, how they got into this whole mess.

“Everything okay Damian?” His voice was soft, it didn’t sound like it belonged in his body, but Damian knew just how low and threatening it could become. 

“Course.” Damian tried to break eye contact but found himself failing. Colin’s own eyes squinted as he pushed his bangs out of his face. He knew Damian was lying, he was good at that, he just hoped the boy wouldn’t push it. 

With a sigh the red head removed his hand. “Okay,” He breathed, standing from his seat next to the darker skinned teen. “We can talk about it later.” Damian’s eyes remained trained on him as he raised his hands above his head and stretched before saying “I’m going to run to the restroom.” 

Damian watched as Colin walked back to the jet’s small bathroom. Once the door was closed, he turned back around, immediately locking with a set of wide crystal blue eyes. “You alright Damian?” 

Why was everyone asking him that today?

“‘m fine, Jon.” He looked away from the half Kryptonian, back out the window. After many years of knowing the boy he’d discovered that Jon’s lie detector only worked when he was making eye contact with his target.

“Colin sure didn’t seem to think so.” The boy murmured. “Are you upset that I tagged along?” He asked, eyes downcast.

“Jon I invited you,” Damian scoffed out. “Why would I be upset that you are here when it was my idea?” He crossed his arms instead of going back to tapping his fingers.

“I don’t know, maybe you wanted to be alone with Colin…” 

Damian and Jon had a very unique relationship. While Colin had been the first friend Damian ever made, Jon was his second, and more importantly he was the son of Superman. Damian and Jon shared a legacy, a duty to their neighboring cities. They were both very much like their fathers, and very much stuck in the mens’ shadows. Ever since they met though, Damian found that they only ever help to pull one another out of those dark casts. 

Clark and Bruce were friends, of course, but not like Damian and Jon were. Jon, like Marinette, felt very much like the other side of Damian’s internal coin. They balanced one another so nicely. He was also one of the few people Damian actually cared for, let alone trusted. Jon was the third person he ever came out to, the first being Tim and the second being Marinette. 

Jon was also the one who encouraged Damian to pursue his feelings for Colin. That had been almost three years ago. Now the two boys were rapidly approaching their three year anniversary, and Jon was still their biggest supporter. 

The knot in Damian’s stomach tightened again.  

“I just,” He sighed leaning his head back. “You’ll be meeting my cousin.” Damian began, pausing to check and see if the boy was listening. Jon’s eyes were wide and attentive, as they typically were when Damian spoke. “She’s, very, how do I put this?” 

“Is she mean?”

“No.” 

“Hard to get along with?” 

“Hardly,” he laughed. “I’d say she’s the easiest person in our family to get along with. Easier than Grayson, and that’s really saying something.” Damian undid his arms. “She’s just got this sixth sense, she can read people. It’s eerie sometimes.”

“What do you mean?” Jon’s head tilted slightly. No matter how old they got, the half Kryptonian always had this look, it was that of a lost puppy. Tim often mentioned that it was the reason Damian decided to be Jon’s friend, because he reminded him of his animals. Jon had also filled out the older they got, taking on the more traditional physique of the super family. His face was chiseled and square, like his father’s with a softer nose resembling his mother’s. He adopted the traditional Kent glasses and was even currently wearing a red flannel, but the one thing that helped him stand out from the rest of the family was how he gelled his hair up into spikes Damian found the hair choice a tad ridiculous but often opted not to comment on it. 

“The last time I saw Marinette in person she happened to meet one of Grayson’s girlfriends. Her name was Kattie something, I don’t really remember. But I do remember how much Grayson liked her, even thought he loved her.” Damian recalled the day in his mind. “She met her for ten seconds, tops. Shook her hand, they introduced themselves, Grayson and Kattie left.” Damian’s eyes moved downwards, focusing on the table between him and his friend. “After they were gone, Marinette turned to me and told me that Kattie was cruel and would break his heart before the month was up.” 

“And?” 

“Two weeks later Grayson woke up and she was gone, along with all the money in his wallet and his credit cards. All of the watches Bruce had bought him over the years were gone too. She also took his car.” Damian shrugged. “Course, it didn’t take us long to track the bitch down, but still. Grayson was heart broken.” 

Jon nodded slowly. “You’re afraid Marinette isn’t going to like Colin.” It wasn’t a question. Another reason why Damian thought their friendship was so strong, Jon had learned how to read him. 

“It’s not that I think she won’t like him, I mean it’s Colin.” Damian’s hands pulled at the bottom of his jacket. “But, I don’t know, she’s predicted at least four breakups in my family and she didn’t even meet those people! It was just based off my brothers describing them. Hell, she even predicted Stephanie and Tim’s break up.” 

“What has she said when you’ve talked to her about Colin in the past?” Jon asked leaning heavily on the table. 

“I, well, I have talked to her about him before but, briefly. It’s not like I’ve gone into long exaggerating details about him. I’m not exactly a gusher, Jon.” 

“Well I know that.” Jon’s head tilted again. “She knows you have a boyfriend though, right?” 

“Yes.” 

“And that it’s Colin?” 

“Yes.” 

“What else?” Jon sat back in his seat, Damian could see Lois Lane in his eyes. 

“She knows how we met, that he’s a meta, and that he’s a redhead.” Damian tried thinking back to whenever he had mentioned the boy. “She knows that he doesn’t have any family ties, that I like him, and that we do vigilante stuff together.” Damian’s eyes raised to see an unimpressed look on Jon’s face. 

“You got to get better at expressing yourself Dami.” He said flatly. 

“Something I’ve been telling him for years.” They both looked up as Colin retook his seat, quickly taking Damian’s right hand in his left. “What are we talking about?”

“Noth-”

“Damian’s worried that his cousin isn’t going to like you.” Jon said, voice mostly flat but slightly amused. 

“Kent, are you aware of what my family does to snitches?” Damian asked, eyes narrowing as he felt Colin squeeze his hand.

Both of the other boys laughed. “I only ever snitch to Colin though! And that’s Colin! Usually it’s fine! And only the important stuff, I know when not to repeat you to him.” Jon’s laugh grew, catching the attention of Bruce who was sitting on the opposite side of the jet. 

“I appreciate it Jon. Your information is always good.” Collin mused. “And Dames, you don’t need to worry. If your cousin doesn’t like me, then she doesn’t like me, not a big deal.” He shrugged. “But, since it is obviously important to you, I will be on my best behavior.” Colin leaned over and kissed his boyfriend’s cheek. “Everything will be fine, you’ll see.” 

“Famous last words.” Damian grumbled out, face quickly returning to the window. While his friends laughed and began a new conversation Damian’s grip on his boyfriend’s hand tightened. The knot in his stomach felt like it was going to explode.

_______________________________________________________________________

(part 1)  (part 2)  (part 2.5) - Here (part 3)

If you have any questions about the story / AU feel free to ask! And if you want to be tagged, let me know! I have no set posting schedule I just upload whenever I get something done, I doubt updates will come this fast in the future, but it helps when I see everyone’s interest in it! Makes me really excited to write and keeps my mind flowing with ideas! Also, I know not everyone is a fan of Damian and Colin as a ship, and if that is not your thing that’s totally fine, but please do not be rude or send hate about it just because it isn’t your personal preference. 

Also this is part 2.5 because it still involves the key players for this au getting to where the story is actually taking place and I wanted to wait for Part 3 to be when they all start actually interacting with one another.

@graduatedmelon @northernbluetongue @violatiger8 @bamagirl513​ @vixen-uchiha @beaversuenightly @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @todaylillypads @laurakinneylance @vgirl-10123

[axwalker]

Meet my MC: Alexis O’Brien

Thank you for the ask @mskaneko  .  This was so fun!! I got a little carried away...  🙈

Thank you for the tag @debramcg1106​ ❤️

Alexis’s life changes deeply in every AU so I used my canon Alexis to answer these questions. 

1. Name (+ bonus why did you choose that name?)

Alexis O'Brien.  I've always liked the names 'Jade' and 'Alexis.' The last name was a momentary inspiration because I love Ireland.

2.    Faceclaim

The beautiful Valerie Dominguez (aka my on-line girlfriend)

3.    Nicknames

O’Brien / Lexie/ Lex/ Blossom.  

4.    Birthday

April 30th (I headcanon that she's 23 when the Social Season starts.)

5.    Height

She's 1,70 cm (5'57")

6.    Eye color

             Brown

7. Hair color

           Light brown

8.    Love interest (why did she choose this person?)

Drake Walker is the love of her life. Alexis felt deeply attracted to Drake since she met him. Something about the deep voice, the chocolate eyes, and his strong arms. When they started to spend time together, she realized how much they had in common. Their connection quickly became a solid friendship as they confided in each other while drinking whiskey together after every event of the social season. Alexis fell for Drake's sarcastic sense of humor, flirty banter, and intelligence. But her favorite thing about him is his fierce protectiveness and how he tries to act tough and brooding around everyone except for her. Now that they're married, they form an exceptional, unbreakable team.

9.    Best friend

Olivia Nevrakis and Maxwell Beaumont.

10. Personality traits

Alexis is a free-spirit. She's idealistic and passionate about her beliefs. She's very kind and generous, but once her trust is lost is very difficult to get it back. She's adventurous, loves to travel, and has surprised Drake more than once with last-minute weekends and trips. She's very competitive, she and Drake play all the time. She loves books and writing; ancient libraries are her happy place. She's very disorganized and unpunctual. Her head is on the clouds, and she always forgets her keys, or where she parked her car. Her emotions are powerful, she feels everything very intensely.

She's fiercely protective of Drake and her children and would kill for them if necessary.

11. Family background

She's half Mexican, half Irish American.

Her parents, Elena Ortiz and George O'Brien, met in High School. After a five-month relationship, Elena got pregnant. As they both came from an extremely religious background, they got married.

George turned out to be an abusive, rigid, sexist husband. They wasted 10 awful years together, but one morning George left Elena for his assistant and never came back. He has a son with his new wife and rarely sees Alexis. She tried to have a relationship with him until she realized the kind of man her father is.

Alexis grew up happily with her mom and widow grandmother. They had a small Mexican Fonda in Brooklyn.  When Alexis turned 18, her mother was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and died only six months later. Her grandmother passed away two years later from an aneurism.

She has a deep-rooted abandonment issue.

12. Hometown

Brooklyn, NY.

13. Education

She has a degree in English Literature. She sold her family's small restaurant and got a job as a waitress to be able to afford a small college in NY. When she met the guys, she was working three different jobs so she could save money to study a master's degree in Literary Translation.

14. What languages does she know?

Alexis is bilingual in English/Spanish and speaks good French. Her French teacher in high school was a sort of mentor for her. She loves languages, so now that she lives in Cordonia, she's trying to learn Greek too. Drake is a great teacher 😉

15. Occupation

Before flying to Cordonia, Alexis gave private Spanish lessons to kids, worked as a waitress at the dive bar where she met Drake, and, on the weekends, she worked as a bartender at an Irish Pub.

In Cordonia, she was the Duchess of Valtoria for a while, but after two hellish years, she and Drake left the 'noble' life. With Drake's support, she went back to school in Cordonia and got her master's degree. For the moment, she works as a Literary Translator, but eventually, she will become a writer.

16. Dream job

Her dream is to write children's books. Her absolute personal hero is J.K. Rowling.

17. Hidden talent

Dancing. Alexis doesn't hide it, though. Dance is her passion, especially Latin music.

She has a superhuman resistance to alcohol. Irish genes.

18. Her strengths

She's hardworking.

She’s determined. 

She's empathic.

She can make friends easily.

19. Her weaknesses

She's very disorganized.

She's stubborn and doesn't forgive easily.

She's highly emotional, which can be a source of anxiety and stress.

20. Pet peeves

People who are rude to waiters or any other person in the service industry. She can't stand it under any circumstance.

People who cut lines.

21. Guilty pleasure

Mexican soap operas. Alexis used to watch them with her mom and grandma, and now she's addicted. Sometimes, she convinces Drake to watch one with her; he needs to practice his Spanish anyway.

22. Ideal outfit

In the summer, she loves wearing short, flowy dresses with leather, flat sandals.

In the winter, cozy jumpers, skinny jeans, and low black boots.

23. Favorite season

Fall. The colors, the soft sun rays, the crispy atmosphere, the smells. Everything about it.

24. Favorite vacation spot

Ireland, her grandfather’s country. He used to tell her a lot of stories about it when she was a child, when she finally went she absolutely loved it. 

25. Celebrity crush

Michael Fassbender

26. Who is her inspiration

Her mom. Elena was a single mother, but she never felt sorry for herself. She worked hard at her restaurant all day, then studied at night to get her college degree on-line. She loved life and was protective and generous. Alexis has never really got over her death.

27. Whats is the craziest thing she has ever done?

She took a plane with two strangers to a country she had never heard of before.

28. Describe her dream date

A late-night picnic under the stars with a good bottle of whiskey, some cheeses, and Drake. In a very secluded, private place.

29. What's more important for her in a relationship: physical attraction or emotional connection?

Both. The physical attraction is what first drew her to Drake. They're profoundly attracted to each other, and that sort of electrical, physical connection is very difficult to find. After years together, they still can't keep their hands off each other, and it has always been helpful when they're going through a rough patch.

The emotional connection is what makes them happy and crazy in love. They trust each other, make each other laugh, and they're best friends. What they share is unique, and they're aware of it.

30. Three things she would take to a desert island

Things, not people? Ok:

Her first copy of 'One Hundred Years of Solitude.' A gift from her mom.

Her illustrated collection of Harry Potter's books, a gift from Drake.

Her family album with her children's pictures and gifts (cards, letters and drawings.)

31. What is one thing she could never forgive?

Cheating. Never. But she has nothing to worry about 

32. What gets her out of bed in the morning?

Sex with Drake, one of her children crying, strong, black coffee.

33. What does she use more often: her intuition or logical reasoning?

100% intuition

34. Would she rather be alone doing something she enjoy, or doing something she does't like with her best friends?

Difficult question. She loves reading and writing, which are 'alone' activities. But she'll do something she hates for her friends if they really want to.

35. What's her biggest regret?

Accepting the Duchy of Valtoria and making her child the heir. She got out of it, but there were terrible years.

Bonus: three random facts about your MC

She was arrested once while she was in a protest for Women's Rights

She LOVES to eat. Passionately. 

She loves big dogs. They have one Labrador and one Golden retriever.

[cjrae]

Friendship Catching Fire. Or; When DID Lucifer and Chloe fall in love?

I am shamelessly piggybacking off of @lucks-eterna for this essay - I’ve linked their post so you can jump between essays for fun! Thank you so much for inspiring me to jump back into the world of Lucifer!

Apparently, there’s a question that seems to be floating around Twitter - “When did Lucifer and Chloe go from being friends and partners to falling in love with each other?” It seems pretty clear that the three episode arc of 2x10 - 2x13 is the first attempt at both of them acting like adults and acknowledging the developing relationship - but can we pin down the hour, the look that started it all?

Lucifer and Chloe have their separate journeys and timetables for falling in love, but I’d argue that The Moment that started it all is the same for both of them - the end of 1x09, when Chloe and Lucifer play their duet, Heart and Soul.

Lucifer’s Side of Things:  

The first eight episodes of Season 1 have been setting up the moment he falls in love with Chloe. We’ve seen him move from fascination to blatant sexual interest to respecting each other as work partners and finally, most recently as of 1x08, jealousy of the time spent with Dan, who is still her husband as of this point in the story! Lucifer has no real claim to Chloe’s life, and he’s unhappy without understanding why he might want the right to Chloe’s attention outside of work

I’ve written elsewhere about 1x09 and the impact it has on Lucifer, but for purposes of this subject, what’s relevant is that this is the episode that builds on what Linda tells Lucifer about his outburst in her office - he’s finally getting in touch with his emotions. Letting his guard down. While he’s still defensive with everyone in his life, we see that this continues into the beginning of the episode as he realizes that, in the wake of Maze’s betrayal, he’s lonely without her. Maze is still a presence at LUX, but his world has been shaken. He’s angry at Maze, he’s furious with Amenadiel, Dan is a rival for Chloe’s attention, especially as they’re working on repairing their marriage, Linda has just put some (much needed!) professional distance between them and, as he says, “I’m not sure what we are,” when it comes to Chloe.

Lucifer desperately wants something to be the way he expects and when Maze offers an olive branch by drawing his attention to Father Frank, he thinks he’s found it. A corrupt priest, a sanctimonious, hypocritical follower of his Father’s, as proved by the fact that he’s walked into Lucifer’s bar to ask him for a favor! Lucifer spends about half of the episode trying to demonstrated his superior understanding that he understands exactly how the world works, attempting to hide the fact that he’s feeling so insecure about every major relationship in his life.

The problem with this plan is that Father Frank isn’t playing ball. Worse - he’s not only imperfect, but quite honest about his imperfections. He punched the murdered youth director. He has a past that includes assault and battery charges. He’s just imperfect enough that, when he challenges Lucifer’s skill with the piano, Lucifer can see enough similarities to open up and immediately bond with him over the music, forgetting himself for the first time we’ve actually seen in the show.

That moment changes how Chloe sees Lucifer - again. (The first time her perception is rocked is 1x04, when she sees the scars on his back).

This is the very first time Chloe sees Lucifer when he thinks he’s unobserved - she’s attempted it in the past, but he’s always been aware of her and has been in control. Now he’s completely unguarded, caught up in the moment and having fun - and we see the look on her face as she manages to sneak quietly in to listen to them, waiting for Lucifer to notice her. While Lucifer is absolutely putting on a performance, it’s not bound up in Lucifer’s ego or need to have the spotlight. It’s collaborative as he’s completely focused on that duet with Father Frank, eyes lit up, smile wide having so much fun in the moment that it becomes completely clear that the music he plays isn’t about getting attention from an adoring crowd; it’s something Lucifer simply loves to do. It’s the first time she sees Lucifer caught up in one of his private passions.

She’s enchanted. She smiles, softening and her own playful side comes out in response as, rather than let them know she’s there, she just waits for one of them to notice she’s in the room at all. Lucifer’s reaction is absolutely on point - he’s flustered and embarrassed. She’s caught him with his emotional pants down and it’s, in her own words, adorable.

And then Father Frank is killed and Lucifer prepares to punish the Spider in a total rage. It’s the first time Chloe sees Lucifer both obviously hurt and just barely hanging onto his control by a thread. His breathing becomes heavy and ragged and his tone ugly as he says “It’s time to pull the legs off the Spider,” before hoisting a rather heavy man at least two feet off the ground and screaming “WHY?!” at him, even as it’s clear that no gasped excuse the Spider can offer will be enough justification for his choice to kill Lucifer’s friend.

Chloe intervenes, calling him back to himself with his name and the reminder that his friend wouldn’t have wanted this. And Lucifer, as out of control as he seemed to Chloe in that moment, listens to her, letting the man go, honoring both his friend and Chloe’s duty as an officer of the law.

As they clean up the scene, Lucifer leaves, telling her that he’s fine - more polite fiction than lie, but either way it’s so untrue that the everything continues to bother Chloe late into the evening.

Chloe’s Side of Things:

When I first started watching Season 1, my thought was that a romance between a mortal woman and an immortal being doesn’t usually have much in the way of a happy ending. I was hoping that we’d actually see a more mature love between Chloe and Dan that involved a broken family and putting it back together by choice. So, I had actually been rooting for Dan and Chloe to patch their marriage back up from the pilot all the way up through the very end of 1x08, when it’s revealed that Dan has been lying to Chloe about Palmetto. In fact, if I remember correctly, I think I yelled at my screen, “DAMMIT, DAN!”

It was not the last time. But that’s a different essay altogether.

1x09 is the first time the audience knows that, no matter what, Dan and Chloe’s marriage is over. Lucifer may be the Devil and that may come with a lot of immortal baggage, but the extent to which Dan has been lying to her is laid bare in this episode. The moral event horizon in this marriage has been crossed. Which means that, while Chloe is nowhere near ready to acknowledge, much less do anything about it, there’s space in her life for a new love.

This episode is pivotal for Chloe during the scene in her home, on the couch eating takeout with Dan. If she wants to put her marriage back together, it’s critical that she and Dan spend time together, that they be a unit that draws strength from each other on days when the world seems sadder and unjust for having taken a good man before his time. She has a choice in this moment - to open up to Dan about the events of her day; to share her worry about her partner with her husband, who should be a source of strength to her. Instead she asks Dan “Can we do this another time?”

And Dan, preoccupied with the consequences of his betrayal closing in on him simply lets her go. As he’s done time and time again.

When given a very clear choice between Dan and Lucifer, she choses Lucifer, despite the late hour, to offer (and receive) comfort for the day’s events with each other. Lucifer begins the episode not knowing what his relationship is to Chloe, but she bookends the episode with the simple declaration, “I thought you needed a friend.” Lucifer may have lost Father Frank, but he is neither friendless nor alone in this moment.

In a single choice, Chloe has aligned herself with Lucifer, defining their relationship for the first time as friendship. It’s a platonic declaration as she smiles and brushes aside his defensive innuendo, but even in this clear, declarative moment of friendship, there’s the foreshadowing of more in the choice of music; Heart and Soul. It’s very simple, in contrast to the challenging jazz number that Lucifer and Father Frank played, but the lyrics are revealing.

“Heart and soul, I fell in love with you

Heart and soul, the way a fool would do, madly

Because you held me tight

And stole a kiss in the night

Heart and soul, I begged to be adored

Lost control, and tumbled overboard, gladly

That magic night we kissed

There in the moon mist

Oh! but your lips were thrilling, much too thrilling

Never before were mine so strangely willing

But now I see, what one embrace can do

Look at me, it's got me loving you madly

That little kiss you stole

Held all my heart and soul.”

There’s also the choice of a duet - Lucifer invites Chloe to share one of his passions, laughing with her at her lack of technical skill, but still providing an appropriate accompaniment so that they can play together. Both of them have let their barriers down and are allowing the other one into their intimate inner lives.

Callbacks:

If we need a reminder of the importance of this moment to them both, we get it in 3x23, as Lucifer attempts to recreate every meaningful moment to the two of them in an attempt to return to the status quo of friendship that was established here in 1x09.  Of all of the recreated scenes, however, Heart and Soul is the only one that Chloe echoes, picking out the melody on the piano when she thinks she’s alone (echoing Lucifer believing he was alone as he played both with Father Frank and in the aftermath, before realizing Chloe was there).

Sure enough, as she plays, who is listening to her but Lucifer as a preface to admitting how he feels about her, literally laying his heart and soul bare to her - and she echoes the lyrics with a kiss in the night, full of promise as their friendship finally catches fire.

[sethrine-writes]

I Will Fight This War For You (Hold On), Ch. 2

Pairing:  Connor x  Female Reader

Words:  5442

Chapter Warning:  Fluff, Jealous Connor, Worried Connor, Serious Tones

Story Summary: “Our choices define us. Don’t let them tear you in two.”

Your investigation into the string of deaths of both humans and androids takes a drastic turn when a victim is purposely left alive. The killer’s intent is the same, to prove a point you have yet to figure out. The change, however, is the power of choice.

Stress and exhaustion lead you astray as you and Connor are both thrust into a war between the mind and the heart. You can only hope everyone involved makes it out alive.

IMPORTANT A/N:   This is a repost from my previous blog of a DBH fic I started over a year ago in response to a challenge a friend of mine posted up, at the time. I’ve also gone through and edited/cleaned up each chapter for a better reading experience! I’ll be posting a chapter or two every day until I’ve posted all current chapters, and then I’ll be updating with a brand new chapter for the first time in nearly a year!

Inspired by the song Torn In Two by Breaking Benjamin.

------

Chapter 2 - A Tide of War and Broken Dreams

The park was lovely during the early evening hours, the sun barely on its ending trek toward the horizon, ready to cast the baby blue sky in brilliant colors. Rays of sunlight bounced off patches of undisturbed snow in such a way that it twinkled gently as you swayed on your feet, shivering ever so slightly.

The cold was embracing, honestly, and it had you feeling lively despite your current exhaustion. You had even taken a handful of snow earlier and pressed it to your face, the shock of the action waking you like nothing else.

Connor, however, had been unamused by your jittery antics and continued to be a worry-wart as you shrugged off another shiver. Between him and Hank, it was a wonder you hadn’t developed an ulcer on their behalf.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay in the car until they arrive? The temperature is twenty-four degrees and will continue dropping-”

“I’m fine, Connor,” you assured for the third time since coming to a stop at the park bridge, huffing out a laugh at his worried expression.

He'd begun fussing over you when you had woken up from a brief nap after last night's shift and had continued to do so nearly all day, much to your amused chagrin.

As expected, you had helped Hank with his paperwork and finished a few files of your own before heading home sometime around three that morning. Once back at your cozy abode, you'd taken to reviewing the interrogation video regarding Anthony. You sat for hours trying to pick apart what he had said, using the small nuances of his voice as well as his movements to help you better understand what he was trying to tell you right before he left the room.

“Our choices define us. Don’t let them tear you in two.”

Sleep had been hard to come by during the past few weeks, but after last night’s turn in the case, you were lucky your body allowed you a brief two hours of uninterrupted sleep over your at-home desk before you were back into the case files with restless energy. The crick in your neck hadn’t been pleasant, though Connor had done an excellent job at massaging out most of the pain, despite his initial plan to most likely put you back to sleep with the soothing pressure.

“I believe it would be best to seek someplace warmer,” Connor urged, his words coming out in a rush, almost as if he were trying to hold back from saying anything more. “You’ve been stressed lately, which has drastically compromised your immune system's ability to-"

“Connor, sweetheart, I'm fine,” you insisted with a groan, effectively cutting off his rambling by turning toward him and giving an exasperated smile. “Look, I’m all bundled up in my big coat, and a scarf, and I’ve got a nice, hot cup of honey lemon tea warming my hands, since you so vehemently urged me to lay off the coffee.”

You emphasized your words by holding up the paper container from the coffee shop you had stopped at before setting out to the park, giving the half-empty container a little shake. Connor looked sheepish, but still had the audacity to sigh heavily, the action completely unnecessary and only meant to showcase his slight frustration through action. You rolled your eyes at the theatrics, but smiled all the same.

“If it makes you feel any better, we’ll be in a nice, warm space as soon as we meet up with the others,” you placated, moving closer to place your head against his chest while wrapping your free arm around his back.

Connor returned your embrace rather quickly by pulling you even closer, snugly fitting you against him. He was warm and comforting through the thick layers of clothing separating you, and you realized a moment too late that he had planned your snuggles from the start, knowing you would want to comfort him after he became huffy over your own exasperation, and had purposely increased his core body temperature to warm you.

Having an analytical boyfriend who learned your every quirk had its ups and downs. In that moment, it had to be somewhere in the middle, seeing that you were both irked and endeared by the thought behind such a clever play of events.

“You are insufferable, sometimes,” you groaned, leaning into him more heavily. Connor only chuckled, knowing he had been caught.

“I think you enjoy it,” he said.

“Oh, no, you caught me,” you mumbled against his coat in a mock surprised tone, earning you a quick peck to the top of your head and, undoubtedly, a gentle smile.

Time seemed to slow as you relaxed fully into Connor's embrace, the warmth of his hug and the slow, smooth motion of his hand rubbing at your back lulling you with its comfort. Your eyes had slipped closed without your knowledge within seconds, and the cup of tea in your hand would have surely fallen, had your arm not been curled just so between you and Connor.

For a minute, you were blissfully falling into a fitting sleep against your clever boyfriend.

“Look at you two lovebirds!”

Startled, you pulled away from Connor and turned quickly, nearly dropping your tea with the sudden movement. Connor placed a steadying hand between your shoulders as your eyes focused fully on the small group approaching, a grin spreading across your face.

Simon was ahead of the pack, his bright blue gaze joyful as he rushed forward and pulled you into a hug. From over his shoulder, you could see North grinning at you, with Josh and Markus just slightly behind, talking to themselves as they approached.

The joyous laughter that escaped you couldn’t be stopped.

“Simon! It's so good to see you,” you exclaimed, pulling away to better look at him. He had a wide smile set in place, eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked over your features with extreme fondness.

You could remember a time when he had been leery of you, as had North, and yet here they were, almost more eager to greet you as you were them.

Connor had introduced you to Markus, who then introduced you to everyone else, shortly after the revolution, and though it was a bit of a rocky start, you couldn’t dream of a better group of individuals to call your friends.

Simon had been on the cautious side, afraid to trust, and you couldn’t blame him. Now, he was perhaps your closest friend, always smiling openly and sharing his thoughts with you without hesitation, and it warmed your heart to know that he trusted you so deeply.

“I’m happy to see you, too. It's been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Couple months, at the most,” you replied, “but who's counting?”

Simon gave a short chuckle, his hand sliding to your free one and giving it a gentle squeeze. You returned the gesture, watching his smile widen with the action. For a moment, he seemed content to just stand there, holding your hand without a care in the world.

He startled when North appeared beside him suddenly, placing a hand to his shoulder to gain his attention. She eyed him in amusement as he looked a bit flustered, his gaze darting back to you and briefly over your shoulder.

He stepped aside quickly, smiling to you once more, albeit a bit more forced, allowing North to move in and wrap you up in her arms. You returned the embrace without much more thought on the strange interaction, humming pleasantly.

She had been the hardest of the group to befriend, at first not wanting to even so much as be in the same room as you. With Markus' gentle persistence in properly getting to know you, however, North came to learn that you could be trusted, that you held no malice for android kind and only ever wanted to help and aid in their cause.

From there, a tentative friendship formed, and it grew with each passing day.

“Missed you guys so much,” you mumbled against her shoulder before pulling away with a huff of breath. She smiled genuinely at you, in turn.

“Can't believe we've been gone for so long,” she said, pulling away with a groan. “You wouldn’t believe the shit we’ve had to sit through. Feels good to be back home for a little while.”

“Remind us never to go so long without seeing that smiling face of yours, again,” Josh intervened teasingly, swooping in for a hug of his own and a peck to your cheek, his attention turning immediately to Connor afterward to continue his greetings.

You grinned at the affectionate attention, recalling how easily Josh had taken to getting to know you. He always saw the good in others and believed in giving people the benefit of the doubt, which led to many a friendly conversation between you both. It was only natural that you would grow closer in such a short time, and the easy way he acted with you was proof enough.

You finally turned to face the last of the group who stood before you, patiently awaiting his moment for pleasantries.

“Markus,” you called out warmly, watching his smile widen at your greeting. A gloved hand immediately came out before him, expecting a handshake, though your pause had him chuckling. You quirked your brow at him, amused, and watched as he changed tactics and held out both arms to you. You rushed forward and embraced him as you did the others, humming delightedly against his shoulder.

“No handshakes, only hugs,” you mumbled, pulling away to give Markus a good once-over. He was dressed warmly in a long coat, gloves made of soft leather, and though you knew that androids couldn’t quite feel the cold as humans could, the look was cozy and appealing.

Goodness, but you had missed him.

“Business meetings have already trained me to greet with a handshake,” Markus said by way of explanation. “You know I meant nothing by it.”

“Of course,” you grinned, unable to keep your giddy happiness at bay. “God, I’m so glad you’re back.”

“As am I. I've missed you, just as much as the others have,” he said, hands coming up to cup your cheeks. His smile dropped then, expression a bit curious as his eyes roved over your features. “How have you been?”

“Alright,” you answered with a sigh, reaching up to pat at one of his hands to lessen any worries he might have had.

Markus was always very good at picking up on things, and it didn’t help that your exhaustion was probably more obvious than you wanted to admit

“This case has been an utter nightmare. Haven’t been sleeping as well as I could, but go figure, right?”

Markus hummed at your answer, eyes roving over your features curiously. He had always been like that as long as you’d known him, curious and eager to learn, always wanting to be better, do better, in hopes of being half the man his father figure had set him out to be.

You knew, without a doubt, Carl would have been so proud of everything he had done and what he would continue to accomplish.

“Perhaps you'll rest easier tonight,” Markus said softly, hands leaving your cheeks. You hadn’t realized how warm the leather had been against your cold skin, almost instantly missing the touch.

You watched as Markus' gaze moved and lingered behind you, his expression becoming a bit more serious. You turned to the side, finding that Connor was approaching with an equally serious look upon his face. He gave a short nod after a lingering silence.

“Hello, Markus.”

“Connor. You look well,” Markus replied, earning a small lilt of a smile. Connor then reached forward and clasped arms with Markus, a mutual greeting they had with each other, before pulling away with a more genuine grin. Any perceivable tension all but vanished between them, leaving behind a much friendlier atmosphere.

“How have negotiations been?” Connor asked.

“As well as can be expected. Our rights are within our grasp, though lacking several signatures to finalize the documents. A permanent Bill will be enacted by the end of this week, and a list of laws, including any unjust action toward androids, will follow soon after its signing.”

“Good to know,” Connor commented. “I know how difficult it must have been, but the laws couldn’t have come at a more appropriate time.”

“So I've heard,” Markus replied, eyes growing hard. “You mentioned things were suddenly more complicated with your investigation.”

“Moreso than we initially thought, unfortunately.”

“Alright, then. Perhaps we should continue this discussion somewhere more private, and preferably much warmer for you?”

Markus' gaze fell to you at his query, and you immediately perked at the notion.

“That sounds fantastic, actually,” you answered, pausing at the affronted look Connor gave you. “What?”

“At least you take someone's advice,” he said, his tone playful despite the disbelieving face he was pulling. You rolled your eyes yet again, reaching for Connor and linking your arm with his. Behind you, Josh was making some sort of comment, most likely one at your expense, before being effectively cut off by a jab of Simon's elbow into his side.

“There's a public library nearby,” Markus spoke up. “We can talk there.”

---

The upper section of the library had its own lounge area, the perfect, quiet place to discuss things with your company without others interfering. It helped that the staff was very cooperative, ensuring that the upper floor remained off-limits until you were all ready to leave.

The group took to their own areas of comfort; Markus and Connor stood across from the lounge you, North, and Simon sat upon, while Josh leaned against the back of a chair to your left. You had even taken off your coat and scarf, placing them within the empty chair at your right.

Everyone was focused as you and Connor relayed information pertaining to your current investigation, vital info they were privy to only because of the person of interest and the victims involved in the cases.

“So the suspect is an android,” Markus stated, having processed the majority of what you and Connor had explained. “You're sure of this?”

“Anthony seemed genuine when describing his attacker,” you responded in affirmation. “We had previously profiled him as human, but Anthony was very clear to establish the suspect was an android."

“This is very unprecedented,” Markus murmured, brows furrowing in confusion. “It would make more sense if your suspect was human, but an android attacking other androids in such a manner…I can’t deny there have been a few problems with our transition into society, but nothing this extreme.”

“Problems? Have there been android-on-android attacks?” you questioned, shocked.

Surely the DPD would have picked up on some of the crimes, and even if you hadn’t been assigned to them, surely there would have been talk about androids going at each other, especially among the more intolerant officers.

“Nothing that led to any physical violence,” North spoke up from beside you, which affirmed your lack of knowledge on the matter. “Just verbal attacks on differing opinions, some minor backlash between those wanting to lash out at humans and those understanding that it will take time and careful effort to normalize our lives.”

You supposed it made sense. Not all androids would be up for a peaceful resolution, especially after the way a good majority of them had been treated by those humans they were made to obey. North, especially, had once been on track with violence, as she had believed there was no other way to reason with humans. Still, most seemed to side with Markus and the careful, civil approach he was taking to ensure all androids had all the rights of a human being.

“Ever since our peaceful victory,” Markus continued, “we’ve maintained a close network between many of our people to ensure safety. We all have a common goal, and we have, thus far, continued on the path of civility so that we may all live amongst each other comfortably in the foreseeable future."

“Well, someone obviously didn’t get the memo,” you deadpanned, throwing back the last of your lukewarm tea before tossing the paper cup into a nearby trashcan with a mild grimace.

“Hold on, wouldn’t we have heard something from one of our informants?” Josh questioned in disbelief. “I mean, it feels like someone would have noticed something off, especially to this magnitude.”

“Not necessarily,” Connor answered. “If we believe our suspect to be an android, it's highly possible he's someone within our circle. He would be harder to detect when under the trust of the very man who led the revolution, and it would be much easier to keep a low profile.”

“Is it possible that there’s more than one person behind everything?” Simon asked, throwing out an idea.

“Unlikely,” Connor shut down quickly. “No previous evidence hints at more than one suspect, and with Anthony's testimony taken into account, there is nothing else to suggest multiple offenders.”

Ideas and concerns continued to bounce around the group, valid points being brought up only to get squashed by conflicting evidence to the contrary. It was a confusing mess, just as it had been from the start, and it felt like the case was, once again, coming to a dead end.

You sighed through your nose, closing your eyes as you tried to piece together what you already knew in the vain hope of figuring out something that would help.

The suspect was currently being considered an android that was kidnapping both humans and androids. From the first two cases, there were two victims each, where the victims knew each other in some manner. The third case added an extra victim, human, but the setup was the same: one victim was tortured with small injections of blue blood while the others were made to watch.

The motive was still unclear, but to you, it felt like the suspect was sending a message. The first two cases might have been just practice rounds, and the third was possibly the suspect adjusting the variables, perfecting his method by adding something the other two cases didn’t have.

“A choice,” you whispered, eyes opening in mild confusion. Anthony's parting words to you began to play in your head yet again with the small revelation.

“Our choices define us. Don’t let them tear you in two.”

“Hey, are you alright?”

You turned at the sound of your name and the gentle touch of a hand upon your knee, finding Simon looking at you in worry. You hadn’t realized you were being so quiet and pensive as everyone else dove into the discussion. Even now, North was bringing up some sort of misunderstanding between an android and human she had overheard, the topic clearly having redirected itself in some way, as both Josh and Markus corrected some of her exaggerated details.

“Yeah…yeah, I'm good,” you answered quietly, not wanting to interrupt the others.

Simon's light grip on your knee tightened, a gentle prodding for you to talk to him. You sighed again, smile weary as you placed your hand over his and took hold of his fingers. Your friends sure were good at figuring you out, and Simon...you could tell Simon anything.

“I'm exhausted,” you murmured sincerely, reaching up with your free hand and rubbing at your dry, aching eyes. “This whole investigation has me so anxious to solve it. I can’t sleep, not for very long, at least, without the details running circles in my head. I'm constantly queasy, and my head aches, but I just want to catch this guy before more people get hurt.”

Simon gave a small hum of sympathy, his hand twisting in yours until he was able to smooth his thumb along your knuckles. The motion was grounding, calming, something he had taken to doing during times you were in distress. The action never failed to ease your racing thoughts.

“It must be hard to have all these details on your conscience,” he said, “but you need rest. It's not safe to be so tired, especially in your line of work.”

“I know,” you admitted, words grumbling in your frustration. “I just…I wish I could piece all this stuff together and figure out why this guy is doing this. Everything’s just a big mess right now in my head.”

“Maybe you could try bouncing ideas off me? I know we’ve technically been doing that already with everyone else, but…maybe it would help having just one person to talk to, instead of five talking over you.”

You looked up at Simon, his gaze still showing concern, but just as equally, there was an eagerness there to help in anyway he could. Smiling, you leaned toward him and bumped your shoulders together in a friendly manner.

“Yeah, okay. Can’t hurt to try, I guess.”

Simon smiled gently, fingers squeezing yours before his thumb continued the slow, methodical movement across your knuckles once more.

“Okay, tell me all the details again.”

---

Across the way, Connor watched you. His eyes roamed over the scene before him as if he was looking over evidence for analysis. He lingered on your hand clasped in Simon's own, how he touched your skin with gentle, unending strokes. You were speaking quietly with him, leaned in close, body relaxed and comfortable within the other's presence.

He realized quickly that what he felt at that moment was jealousy. Connor knew that, when it came to Simon in particular, he felt jealous because of your easy relationship with the other android. He hated that he could feel such a way over someone you both considered a friend, but it was there, an ugly beast of an emotion that clawed at him from deep within, stuttering his thirium pump and twisting his inner mechanisms with vicious intent.

Connor had only felt such a way a handful of times, flashes of heated envy over something that was so trivial in every sense of the word. Honestly, it seemed petty to be jealous over a friendship that brought you ease, a friendship that you had truly felt most comfortable in.

But he could not help the way his emotions were swayed when it came to you.

He didn’t like the way Simon sent almost longing gazes in your direction, as if hoping you would notice his stare as more than friendly. He didn’t like that Simon touched you so freely, and you did nothing to deter him. He especially didn’t like how close the other android was to you at that moment, talking with you in a way that seemed much too intimate, a sight that sent his inner processors whirring with a deep seated feeling. Frustration? Maybe anger?

The L.E.D. at his temple was blipping a constant red as his mind reeled into dangerous territory.

Stop.

Simon needed to stop. He needed to stop right now-

“How long has it been, Connor? Seven months?”

Connor blinked once, twice, the clench of his jaw releasing as he registered Markus' voice from beside him. He was asking a question, a question he was easily able to pick up on.

He blinked a third time, tilting his head ever-so-slightly, though keeping his eyes on you. The red at his temple flickered to yellow, retaining the color for the time being.

“Almost eight,” he answered, voice sounding a bit rougher, the barest hint of interference stuttering his words.

He hadn’t realized how absolutely wrecked he was becoming until his thoughts were interrupted. Seething sounded adequate, but he didn’t believe he was that angry…didn’t want to admit it.

“Eight months,” Markus repeated quietly, his echoed words sounding reverently amazed in the best way. “It doesn’t seem like it's been that long, does it? Then again, it feels like forever, being with the right person.”

Markus turned to look at Connor, mismatched eyes narrowing in a serious manner as his brow furrowed.

“You’re lucky to have each other in this time of change. It's easy to see how much you care for her, how much she cares for you. As long as that feeling is there, nothing will tear you apart, not even what your eyes assume is there right before you.”

“I…”

Connor hesitated, his own brow furrowing, doubting. His gaze on you faltered, eyes closing momentarily with self-doubt. He grimaced.

“Have you told her, yet?”

Connor's eyes opened once more, his head slowly turning toward Markus. For a brief moment, Connor’s façade crumbled away, his brief expression conveying the underlying issue behind everything he was feeling. Markus' own eyes widened a fraction, understanding what Connor was saying without speaking a word.

“You're afraid.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Connor harked defensively, looking away from Markus and hiding behind another spark of what he would call anger and definitely not embarrassment. He felt stupid for letting such emotions get the best of him, for letting such things as self-doubt and jealousy completely ravage his systems and lead his thoughts down dangerous paths of action he did not want to take.

Breaking Simon's fingers was not only uncouth and absolutely not a good thing, but it would also upset you greatly. Connor would be upsetting himself if he so much as humored the sudden, brash thought longer than the blip of a second it took to think it, and yet it was still a thought he had come to.

What was wrong with him? Was jealousy always such a potent feeling?

“Simon is a good friend,” Markus went on, ignoring Connor's outburst in favor of continuing his talk with Connor.

“I know that,” Connor conceded.

“Then you must also be aware that she and Simon have a special bond in their friendship, one that was earned mutually through trust and understanding. The best of friends, those two. They can tell each other anything without fear of judgement or worry that their secrets will be spread.”

“I'm…aware.”

“And it scares you to know she can be so free and open with someone else, can rely so heavily on someone else. Your fear holds you back, doesn’t it?”

“I…I don’t want it to,” Connor admitted softly, his voice sounding small as the root of the issue was carefully prodded and plied open by Markus' doing. He looked to you again, watching your tired expression light up at something Simon had said.

He felt helpless when there was nothing to feel helpless about. You were with him, happy with him; at least, he believed you were. You hadn’t expressed anything contrary to that belief, nothing that outwardly expressed any dissatisfaction within your relationship or a want for something he could not readily provide.

Then why was he so…so scared to lose you?

“Simon is infatuated with her,” Connor muttered, the words almost leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, an odd sensation he would have to dissect later. “He shows all the signs of interest. They would…work well together.”

“In another life, maybe so,” Markus agreed, not dissuading Connor's observation. “But she chose you, Connor. She sees something in you that no one else has. She adores you; Simon knows that. He would never hurt either of you in that way. Just like you and me, he only wants what is best for her.”

“I know,” Connor repeated quietly, and Markus smiled.

Markus was worried for a moment, but talking Connor through his feelings seemed to help the detective. He wasn’t nearly as tense as before, and though Markus could tell his friend was still suffering through a combination of emotions, he had peace of mind knowing he had helped Connor better understand the situation presented to him. Even his L.E.D. was flickering between yellow and blue, his thoughts still muddled, but calming quickly.

“You should tell her,” Markus spoke, clasping a hand to Connor's shoulder with the suggestion. He met Connor's gaze, smile quirking the corner of his lips at the hesitant nod his friend gave him.

Markus pulled away just as North took notice that something was amiss, though he gave a slow, single nod to assure her all was well. She looked relieved, though as her eyes looked behind him to Connor, she frowned in confusion.

“Connor?”

---

You looked up from Simon as North called out to your boyfriend, eyes looking to her, then Connor, who was blinking rapidly as his temple held a steady stream of yellow. You recognized the action as an incoming call and jumped up immediately, moving toward him with an anxious flutter in your gut.

Just as you reached him, he regained focus, deep brown eyes looking to you in surprise as he called out your name quietly.

“What do we got?” you asked, watching his face contort into mild concern before smoothing out into a neutral expression. Vaguely, you felt as if you missed something, but you ignored the feeling in favor of Connor's following words.

“Another murder, same set-up as last time, though the officers on-call are only confirming one dead, and nothing more.”

“Shit,” you muttered disdainfully, looking to Markus and the group with an apologetic expression.

“We understand,” Markus spoke calmly, “I'm sorry we couldn’t be of more help to the investigation.”

“Just being able to talk to you guys was enough for me,” you said, pulling him into a hug he was all too prepared to reciprocate. You moved around the room and did the same with the others, aware of Markus and Connor talking behind you.

“Please, keep us updated on the investigation. If there's anything more we can do to help, anything, you know how to reach me.”

“Of course, Markus.”

You pulled away from your final embrace with Simon, turning toward Connor and pausing. He looked hesitant, almost troubled, his brows furrowed and the slightest frown against his lips. You noticed the flicker at his temple, noting the color was still yellow, cautious and inquisitive.

“Connor, what's wrong?”

His eyes instantly snapped to you, the L.E.D. flickering once more before becoming a steady blue. His expression relaxed somewhat as he reached for your hand, your fingers intertwining with his without hesitation.

“Nothing, sorry. We should get going.”

You nodded carefully, confused by his suddenly odd demeanor. Again, the feeling of having missed something was rearing in the back of your mind, but there were more pressing matters at stake. If Connor didn’t want to talk about it now, that was fine. You knew he would eventually come to you for whatever was troubling him.

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze as you pulled away briefly to grab your coat and scarf, bundling up cozily and taking his hand once more. You tugged gently as you started up a quick pace toward the stairs, giving Markus and the others a final wave as you made your exit.

“Connor, wait!”

Connor stopped abruptly at the exclamation, forcing you to come to a halt in front of him. You both turned to find Simon had rounded the lounge, seeming surprised by his own outburst. He looked almost indecisive about continuing his train of thought, eyes closing as he took a steadying breath.

“Please…make sure she gets some sort of sleep later. You and I both know how stubborn she can be, but I figured, maybe, you could be just a bit more stubborn, this time.”

The room was quiet. Connor and Simon stared at each other, and though you couldn’t see Connor's expression, the interaction made you nervous in a way you couldn’t explain. Then, Connor gave a small sigh, the action alone breaking the strange, heavy tension with ease.

“I will.”

Simon smiled at the promise, and you were sure it was a promise, unspoken but there. It was Connor's turn to lead you away, as you remained momentarily frozen in your place, unsure of what exactly had just transpired before you.

“What are you guys up to, huh? Doing some sort of secret-android-mind-reading? Conspiring against me?”

Connor chuckled, actually chuckled at your faux put-upon questions, turning to look at you with a smile as soon as you both made it down the stairs. It was a complete 180 turn from his previous mood, and it had you nearly reeling at the change.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he answered, and you believed him.

For whatever crazy reason, that last-second exchange had put him at ease. You would have to thank Simon next time you had the chance to talk to him.

[musingsofazumbamind]

The Epic Tale of Great Friends

This weekend was phenomenal and full of fun--the kind of fun that makes your face hurt from smiling and your body ache as it falls asleep. It was an emotional high for 48 hours, full of driving, deep conversation with my daughter, being able to help lead at a super fiery class where dozens of smiles made me tear up--all on a few hours of sleep. These days were full of pushing myself on every level but also fiercely full of friendship and support.

Friday was the Kass Martin Master Class in St. Paul, Minnesota, hosted by Sara Marcela-Ross Thompson. I was able to bring my daughter and my friend to the class, and the three of us orchestrated our meeting Kass backstage with a bit of flair. My kid hung out behind the two of us, ready to spring with her small bag of Sour Patch Kids and a giant hug. It was sensational, every minute between the giant four person hug to the end of the night when we drove home, so pleased that all three of us got to dance together for the first time and feeling blessed that it was with Kass. I also got to see Heather, who heats up our time together with fearless sunshine and passion, and Elsa, who shares a true love for fitness and joy with everyone she sees.

Then Saturday was a Jam Session in Boling Brook, Illinois. I recognized last year that my Best of Jams 2019 playlist was missing ZJ Gloria Tarrer and I made an immediate attempt to fix that issue for 2020. Yes, I knew I would have my work cut out for me to enjoy St. Paul, Minnesota on Friday night, drop my kid off at home and keep on the road to enjoy Boling Brook, Illinois on Saturday afternoon. But to me, this would be worth it, and I knew the playlist would be epic, and even more, I knew I needed to be a student once again and especially with my closest friends as the teacher.

The greatness that has struck a chord in my heart this weekend, and most definitely from my weekend prior from teaching a joint class with Karen and Robin (my super stars) is that I am so eternally grateful and absolutely floored by the fact that I have friends who are this level of talented. The way Kass tangibly creates and shifts energy gives me energy. The way Gloria builds a choreography and your love of it from the ground up is the kind of framework and fearlessness I need in my heart to build my own choreographies. And last weekend, the way Karen and Robin rocked their original choreography, their sensational and strong moves, inspired me to start creating more steadily and in rhythms I have yet to embrace. In other words, the women around me don’t just inspire and uplift. They create, they mold, they conquer, and stay humble as they hustle.

Janel was there to review some videos, offer clear feedback and encourage even though she is on maternity leave! My BFF Nila, with her laughter and cheer, her input on my teaching and makeup assistance kept me afloat. The constancy of her bright-eyed support at the other end of any Marco Polo has started each day with a bang! Also, my “ride or die” bud was also with me through all of this, through two weeks of travel across the state, an intense teaching schedule, multiple stresses at my day job and making a giant leap on something in my fitness life. Therese, you aren’t just talented in the ways of splicing and dicing videos and gently maneuvering how to be sensitive and aware while discussing most current events in politics, education and race. You are an absolute genius in how to talk me off a ledge from panicking and making the worst choices; your talents are interpersonal and otherworldly, and you make all of us feel like stars.

Friends like this are the supporting actors for the movie of your dreams. Friends who see your potential and join in your pride as you jump are the ones you need to work even harder for. And when they smile and encourage and sweat and sing with you, it is a soundtrack of invincibility that only fuels you more. Today is the day to thank your friends and make all your lives an Oscar-worthy endeavor!

[discordantwords]

fic writer q&a

I’ve seen a few of these floating around over the past few days, so I thought I’d fill one out too. Any of my friends who write, if you’d like to participate, consider yourself tagged!

1. AO3 handle: discordantwords

2. Ships I write: Right now I'm sort of fixated on Sherlock/John, but I got my start writing Mulder/Scully.

3. Ships I read: Mostly Sherlock/John. I'll dabble in reading other pairings if the story seems compelling.

4. When I started writing: I've been writing for as long as I can remember. As a child I used to write wherever and whenever I could--notebooks, little scraps of paper, in the margins of other books. In my angsty teen years, I often thought that that I could be left on a desert island with a supply of pens and a stack of blank notebooks and I'd be perfectly content for the rest of my life.

5. First fic I wrote: An assortment of (probably terrible) X-Files stories I was too shy to post back when the show was airing. I was young and very intimidated by the intelligent and wildly talented fanbase. I eventually wrote and posted The Barn in 2006, long after XF was off the air.

6. Favorite fic I wrote: The answer to this question will be different every time depending on the mood you catch me in. Sometimes I think it's We Could Have Made Music. Sometimes I think it's The Pillar upon Which England Rests. Other times I think it must be (Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea.

7. Hardest fic I wrote: Out There. I was writing and posting a chapter a week. Each chapter averaged 10k words or more and was meant to feel like self-contained episode. It has stand alone monster-of-the-week cases, mythology cases, and a (relatively) coherent plot arc. It's by far the longest and most ambitious fic I've ever written, and, looking back, I have no idea how I ever sustained that pace.

8. Most research-intensive fic I wrote: Also Out There. I dove into a rewatch of X-Files episodes, read old transcripts, tried to find any plot points and characterizations that I could tie in with Sherlock. My goal was to write a story that didn't just rehash the events of either show, but instead blended the worlds into something that would be (hopefully) recognizable and yet still entirely new. I threw out most of the existing XF mythology and wrote my own. And then there was all of the X-Filesy pseudoscience, which had to at least seem vaguely plausible. For the Mayfly "episode," I wound up learning so much more about fly life cycles than I ever wanted to know.

9. Fic that is most dear to me: The Pillar upon Which England Rests. I love Mrs Hudson, I love her relationship to Sherlock, and when I initially eased into this fandom hers was the first story I felt compelled to tell.

10. Favorite trope to write: I will never tire of friends-to-lovers.

11. Something I wouldn’t write: You probably won’t see a PWP from me. I’ll never say never, but I'm not particularly adept at writing smut, even in the context of a larger story. I fear any PWP of mine would end up being fairly cringey. I stick to what I do best.

12. Favorite scene I ever wrote: There's a scene in Inscrutable to the Last, where John is making a last ditch effort to patch things up with Mary. He shows up with takeaway, expecting to talk, only to find that she has Janine over. And they all wind up drinking too much, generally just being terrible to one another underneath a thin veneer of politeness. Over the course of the night John has the slow dawning realization that his marriage is over, that any effort he's trying to make is too little too late. And I've always really liked the tension in that scene, and how the whole thing is messy and painful and doesn't really resolve in a comfortable way.

13. Where I get my inspiration: All over the place! Sometimes little interactions or moments I glimpse out in the world will find their way into my writing.

14. Hardest scene I ever wrote: I cried while writing Sherlock's breakdown in the bathroom at the end of (Never) Turn Your Back to the Sea. It's the only time I've ever cried while working on my own stuff.

15. Favorite characterization I wrote: I am most comfortable writing Sherlock. His thought patterns, as I write him, are fairly similar to my own.

16. Sequel I would write, if I had the chance: I would love to do a sequel to Out There, but the prospect is incredibly daunting.

17. Story I want to write, but I don’t think people would enjoy reading: A longish Sherlock and Molly friendship fic. I don't ship them, but I love the way their relationship has evolved over the years and would enjoy exploring it a bit.

18. A line from a WIP: Molly was three minutes and forty-two seconds late.

19. A recent comment on a story that made me smile: Every single comment puts a huge smile on my face.

20. A discontinued work I would love to finish: I have a post-TAB fic that I started writing ages ago before S4 aired. It was off to a good start, and then I lost track of where I was going with it, and then S4 happened and I really lost track of where I was going with it. I’d like to return to it one of these days.

21. Fic writers I admire: Too many to count! Pretty much everyone out there still keeping these worlds alive through your words.  

22. A story I recommend: Because I happen to be rereading it today, I'll throw out a recommendation for Parhelion. An achingly beautiful, wrenchingly sad Sherlock/John vampire fic that spans centuries. I love this fic, and I don't think it's ever gotten the attention it deserves.

[cvndypaint]

plots inspired by selena gomez’s singles

slow down // muse a is notorious for drinking, partying, dancing—you name it. enter muse b, who immediately finds themselves attracted to muse a. of course, the feeling is mutual, but muse a decides to drag it out a bit, giving muse b a little taste and then pulling back. this goes on until neither one of them can take it anymore and give into their desires.

the heart wants what it wants // muse a is in a toxic relationship that they refuse to leave, believing that their significant other is the one for them. muse b is their closest friend, who hates to see muse a breaking down every time their love fucks up. as much as muse b tries to convince muse a to leave them, muse a gets angry and pushes them away for a while. eventually, muse b confesses their love for muse a and promises them a much better life.

good for you // muse a is in a happy relationship after their break up with muse b. of course, muse b is still convinced that they and muse a belong together. despite this, muse b has kept up the charade of being one of muse a’s close friends, just waiting for the moment to steal them back. when muse a invites muse b to their [insert party or event here], muse b sees this as the perfect opportunity to dress to impress. wearing their best, most seductive attire, muse b makes sure that muse a will notice them and come crawling back.

same old love // once muse a has had one failed relationship after another, they’re done. D O N E. they’ve had enough of chasing after the happy ending they were always promised time and time again, deciding to focus on themselves and a different lifestyle. not too long after muse a has going from one casual encounter to the next, they have a one night stand with muse b, an absolute hopeful romantic. because of their romantic nature, muse b attempts to woo muse a, but they’re not having any of it. even if muse b is exactly the type of person they would love to chase that happy ending with.

hands to myself // muse a has had a pretty satisfactory life being single, focusing on themselves and their education and/or career until they meet muse b, the person of their DREAMS. and then they meet muse b’s significant other. earth shattering, obviously, but muse a is determined to make muse b theirs. even if the two of them have to sneak around.

kill em with kindness // muse a is a very moody and aggressive person, and takes pride in making people walk away with their tails between their legs. until they muse b, that is. muse b with the very essence of sunshine and rainbows, but muse a can’t seem to shake them off no matter how rude they are to them. muse b simply smiles and counters their words/actions with something profoundly..... kind. this send muse a into a total frenzy of WHY WON’T THEY LEAVE ME ALONE and WHY DO I DO I ACTUALLY WANT THEM TO STAY?

it ain’t me // muse a and b are going through a rough patch due to muse b’s late night disappearances and returning reeking of alcohol. this goes on for a while until muse a gives up, deciding to leave muse b before the relationship becomes anymore toxic than it is. this leaves muse b feeling absolutely heartbroken and lost given that they considered muse a their rock. skip forward a few years later where they run into each other, muse a is doing very well and actually has become successful in their career, meanwhile muse b is still suffering from their depression that muse a had unknowingly left them because of.

bad liar // muse a is a closeted queer, and maybe they don’t even realize it. what they do know is how much they like muse b, someone who’s run in their circle for a while. over time, the two become incredibly close, which leaves muse a absolutely pining over muse b. at this point they’re aware they’re in love with them, but due to the conflicting sexualities and friendship, muse a decides to keep their feelings to themselves and try not to think about muse b in that way.

fetish // “this is the last time,” is something muse a often says to muse b after their midnight trysts. the two are friends with benefits, if they can even be considered friends, and muse a is beginning to get tired of the arrangement. or maybe just scared, given that it’s gone on for a while and muse b seems to be developing feelings for muse a. as much as muse a tells them it’s the last time, muse b comes crawling back and muse a can’t find it in themselves to say no.

wolves // muse a has been a lone wolf for all of their life. they’ve slept with strangers as often as possible, and drank too much when feeling pathetic, which is often. suddenly, here comes muse b, someone who’s got their shit together and seems way too decent to even show any sort of interest in someone like muse a. however, muse a refuses to throw another pity party and actually tries to better themselves for muse b, who has no idea about their former lifestyle.

back to you // muse a has been in love with muse b for the longest time, but the two have been inseparable best friends for even longer. because of this, muse a decides to swallow their feelings and move on. from one lover, to the next. all while still aching to be with muse b, who’s also dating many people over time. years later, muse a realizes it’s now or never, so they decide to tell muse b how they feel.... but before they can declare their love, muse b announces their new engagement.

[bootycallreverie]

Twelve Days in America - Part 1

(Photo credit: jacob_cherry via djlisafrank; original post here)

I can’t easily summarize everything I saw, did and experienced over the past bit in the United States. Any attempt won’t do my memories the justice they deserve, but I want to commit a few thoughts to posterity while they’re fresh in my mind.

On August 15, I flew to Philadelphia with my pal Aeryn to meet our friend Ethan and drive all together to the Honcho Summer Campout - an underground queer techno gathering located on a private campground in Artemas, Pennsylvania. I had been to Honcho’s regular event in Pittsburgh last August and was impressed by what they had created: a dance floor space where, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I could finally be my true self again. Based on that experience, and though I had never slept in a tent before, I knew I needed to make it out to the Campout this summer.

I have suffered from crippling self-doubt for a very long time. This has manifested itself in different ways, with a particular impact on my body image, though also on my career prospects, social relations, approaches towards sex and general mental state. The feeling of liberation at Honcho in Pittsburgh was something I hoped I’d find again, primarily as a balm to soothe the aches of what has so far been a challenging and frustrating year.

I was not expecting to be gently pulled apart, rearranged and healed over four days of immersion in (virtually) unadulterated queerness, faggotry, community and love. From the second we arrived on the grounds, I felt like we were in actual heaven; our first taste of it was driving down a muddy path to our campsite against a stream of hundreds of beautiful queers in revealing swimsuits (or less) walking toward a riverside swimming hole to cool off from stagnant summer air. Despite a weekend of rain and mud, things would only improve to levels of nearly unimaginable satisfaction.

(Photo credit: Ethan Fontneau via _troxum_ original post here)

Lots happened over the four days at the campground, much too much to write here. Every single moment had worth. Every single moment built upon the last one. The people I met inspired me to do more with myself, but more importantly, the folks at Honcho helped me realize a concept of self-love that I had never before known possible.

There are a few salient memories I will share here:

On the first day, I ran into someone I have known for a while from whom I’ve often sought validation but never received it. This time, beyond exchanging pleasantries, I found absolutely no need to pursue his attention further.

[K], a handsome man I did not think would be attracted to me but proved otherwise, invited me to jump into a muddy patch in the swimming hole with him. Even though I ruined my new speedo, I’m glad I did.

Over dinner on the second day, I met [Jo], who remarked that “…in America, people find an excuse to say no. In Spain, people find an excuse to say yes.”

I met [A] through a happy case of mistaken identity. We could not keep our hands off of each other. This absolutely beautiful man confessed to me that he had been afraid at first to approach me because he was convinced that “a guy like you would never be interested in a guy like me.” Later on, he told me to look around at the magic in the forest under the stars and drink it up, because none of it was fantasy - all of it was very real. As we fucked with passion in a tent, he looked into my eyes and said to me that “even though we just met, I am not afraid to tell you I love you, because my love is here to set you free, not bind you.”

I’m not entirely sure how I first crossed paths with [C], but we had an instant connection. We loved each other deeply for a few special hours. I can’t forget looking into the eyes of this beautiful gentle giant and thinking that I am not merely capable of love, but also that I’m worthy of love too, and how rare and special it is to meet someone that makes silence perfectly comfortable and familiar.

I asked [Ja], this charming Southern muscle daddy type if I could bum a cigarette from him outside one of the dancefloor venues. He didn’t have any, but with a mischievous grin, he said “let’s go find you one.” Before I knew it, we were fucking like animals in a clearing. I couldn’t help but think to myself that this was what I had been born to do: pursue what I wanted instead of merely accepting what came to me passively.

[E] was a fleeting encounter on the dance floor. This beautiful man with a smile from ear to ear came up to me to say “I hope I can get my hands on you later; I’ve had my eyes on you all weekend.”

[B] joined me as I sat on a bench overlooking the river in the morning rays. He remarked that he liked my hex tattoos and pulled his phone out to take a picture of them. As he looked at the image he had just captured, he nodded quietly in approval of his own work: “…ha,” he said, “…that’s hot.” It was one of the most empowering things I’d ever heard.

(Photo credit: bryantherye; original post here)

[D] is a DJ I met from DC. On the last night, I mentioned I was also a DJ, though not at any comparable level to him or anyone playing at the Campout. Despite this, he wanted to stay up late talking about our favourite disco artists, with each new offering from one eliciting squeals of approval from the other. I realized eventually that [D]’s approval of my choices were genuine. He legitimately liked my taste and said we should stay in touch to collaborate in the future.

At sunrise on the Monday, I was seated in a gentle, chill-out cuddle puddle that had slowly become more carnal. As time went on, I found myself mounting [K] and gently fucking him as a small group watched, including his beautiful boyfriend. As I reached climax, it dawned on me that I was entirely sober. My behaviour had not been influenced by intoxicating substances; my desire and my drive were innate to me. I had identified what I wanted, and with respect for the needs and wants of others, I took it.

As Monday’s sunrise developed into full-on morning, I walked home to my own tent to make a pitiful attempt at sleep before we had to pack up. On the path back, me with my overalls carelessly undone and slung perilously on my hips, I crossed paths with another man who had obviously just engaged in an act of sexual pleasure. With knowing smiles, we looked at each other in the eyes and happily exchanged a friendly “good morning.” 

On the drive back to Philadelphia, I reflected on the quality of the crewmembers that had assembled quasi-spontaneously around this trip: Ethan, Aeryn and our new friend Christopher, whom we met at camp. We all had plenty to offer each other - laughs, snacks, spare hands, tales, costume accoutrements, shoulders to cry on when needed - but most importantly, we were all there for each other no matter what. No shame, no jealousy, no expectations on anyone else’s time…simply a bond of friendship and unity founded in a genuine desire for us to all thrive. In a lot of ways, it was a taste of queer brotherhood that I have sought after for years.

I still have a lot to process, including how I apply this newfound empowerment and self-love into my everyday life here in Toronto. I’m not entirely sure how that will happen, but based on the way I’ve felt over the past days, I know I am largely equipped to make my dreams come true.

Forgiveness is hard, especially when you’re trying to forgive yourself. The first photo in this post does not do justice to what I felt when I saw it on a crowded dancefloor under the gentle haze of happy intoxication. I was forgiven for all the times I’d descended into self-hatred, all the times I believed what my mother had told me, all the times I’d been set up to fail by my ex-boss, all the times an ex-lover had made me out to be a horrible person.  To know that I was finally home, with my people - that I had a people - has made me rethink my place in the world. These precious days have given me hope in a bright future for myself…a much brighter future than I ever thought I deserved.