#and i can’t manage to get to six hearts with harvey and i NEED to marry him NOE
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Safety Found in Red Sleeves
Chapter 9
I know it's been nearly four months (just five days shy of four months) and I apologize for that.
Anyways, I hope you enjoy.
Thana watched as all of the patrons of the Iceberg Lounge turned to look as they entered. She knew they weren’t the usual crowd, seeing as how Adrien had on a fanny pack, but since they all had red, or some shade of pink, sleeves Uncle Ozzy would let them in.
“I’m sorry. Do I-” Oswald Cobblepott was, fundamentally, a good man. He would never turn away a child in need and he remembered the children he gave shelter to, so imagine his surprise when the person standing in his place of business was none other than the girl who’d managed to burrow under his skin and earn a special nickname. “Chick? Is that- are you- you’re really here?”
Thana let out a laugh and rushed at the man, throwing her arms around his neck before letting out a louder laugh. “I’m taller than you Uncle Ozzy!”
Oswald laughed before his gaze drifted back to the rest of the teens gathered just inside his place of business. “Chick, as much as I love seeing you, who’re they?”
“Oh!” Thana pulled away from Oswald before turning to her friends. “Well, the tall boy with black hair and frosted tips is Kim, the blonde girl is Chloé, the guy with short brown hair is Nino, the other blond is Adrien, and the short sporty girl is Alix. They’re friends I made in Paris, with my mother’s cousin.”
Oswald smiled and waved. “I see my niece has given you a heads up on the dress code around here.”
Kim nodded, a smile on his face. “Mèo con’s always reminding us that we have to wear red when we’re in Gotham, says she’ll ditch us if we don’t.”
Nino snorted before his eyes drifted over to the turntables. “Do you mind if I?”
Oswald smiled and nodded. “Go ahead, you can’t be any worse than my usual guy.”
Nino drifted over to the turntables and began playing some music.
Chloé strode over to the duo, a smile on her face. “It’s so nice to finally meet Fragolina’s Uncle Ozzy.”
“You must be the one my Chick won’t stop saying reminds her of the second Robin.” There was a twinkle in his eye as he pulled Thana close.
Adrien and Alix followed Kim over to the trio, where Kim draped an arm around Chloé’s shoulders. “That’s a possibility.”
---
Thana and her friends, accompanied by Thana’s Uncles Ed and Jon, toured Gotham. Thana made sure to show her friends around, showing them shortcuts to use to get around if they ever get separated from Madame Bustier. Eventually, the group came to an overgrown looking park.
“Uncle Ed, Uncle Jon. I’m going to show them around, and if we run into her introduce them. If we don’t, could one of you text her to let her know where they’re staying so we can do the introductions there?”
“Of course Mini Todd.” Her Uncle Jon nodded and wrapped an arm around Ed, who smiled softly at the act before nodding as well.
“And we’ll keep an eye out for You-Know-Who. He seems to think that you will come crawling back any day now.” Her Uncle Ed rolled his eyes.
“Thank you both so much.” Thana pressed kisses to their cheeks and smiled. “If we ever come across him, I’ll send an SOS to the group chat and then beat his ass.”
Jon and Ed pressed kisses to her cheeks and smiled. “Be safe.”
“With Aunt Pam? Always.” Thana turned towards the park and took a breath, smelling the local flowers and feeling better than she had since she’d been removed from the streets.
---
Thana led her friends around the park, pointing out all of the Poison Ivy original plants and warning her friends to stay away from them since they hadn’t built up an immunity to the toxin within the plants, with a smile on her face. “Aunt Pam always has a new plant that she’s making, and she’s been sorta kinda courting my Aunt Harley since she first saw her, although Aunt Harley used to be with this abusive asshole. I do wonder what happened to Aunt Harley’s daughter, I know she said she was with her sister but still.”
“Who?” Adrien asked, his hand hovering dangerously over a hybrid Venus Flytrap and Trumpet Pitcher plant, as he looked back at the group.
Adrien’s hand was saved by a wall of Boston ivy that shot up out of the ground. A loud scoff could be heard just beyond the plants before a beautiful head of red hair appeared through the leaves. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to touch wild plants?”
Thana smiled and allowed Kim to pull her into his side. “Are all of your relatives ridiculously attractive people?”
“You’ve met my Ma’s cousin,” Thana shrugged and settled more firmly against his side, “and Jervis Tetch is a rotten man, he’s rotten to the core.” Thana’s head rested against Kim’s chest, her ear close to his heart, as she forced thoughts about her birth father out of her head. “My Uncles and Aunts have this friend, Harvey Dent, who’s a little disfigured. He was in this really bad accident a while back and his face is a little hard to look at. He’s kind of nice, never really been mean to me specifically. I think he’s kinda cool though, he’s got a whole schtick about truth and luck.”
Kim nodded, his eyes flitting over the rest of their friends. Kim had never really had a big friend group, not until Thana joined their class, and then suddenly Kim was always around other people, had a shadow who was nearly as protective of him as his Mẹ was, and suddenly his fledgling crush was one of his best friends. Kim would probably always be thankful that Thana showed up when she did. Without Thana, Kim probably would have always been just a dumb jock who fell for some perfect princess. Kim knew his Mè was as thankful as he was that Thana had shown up in their lives, that Thana had stayed after she learned about the skeletons in their closets.
Kim looked at Thana, and he could see how much lighter she was here in what was the darkest city Kim had ever stepped foot in compared to back home. He could only hope that no matter where she went after Lycee, she would keep in contact with him and his Mè.
---
Thana and her friends left Robinson Park just before dinner that evening, her Uncles Jon and Ed escorting them back to the hotel when Thana’s friends went in for the night. Thana, however, followed her friends in and ate a meal with the class before ducking out of the hotel to go spend the night on the streets.
Thana refused to spend any more time in that building than absolutely necessary. She could still feel the cold lead encased in steel as it pierced her abdomen.
Thana hunkered down in an old spot, one she knew like the back of her hand, and could only hope that she would be safe here. She could only hope that she wouldn’t catch a cold while she slept on the streets.
Thana’s friends, however, slept fitfully that night in their comfortable beds in the hotel. Their thoughts filled with worry about Thana on the streets.
-*-*-*
Jason puttered around the kitchen, his feet encased in his slippers, and let out a yawn. He looked at the counter and noticed the already full coffee pot. He glanced around the room and frowned when he didn’t see anything before the sound of the TV reached him a moment later. “Duke?”
Duke’s head popped up over the back of the couch and he gave Jason a sheepish smile. “Yeah?”
Jason let out a breath and his whole body sagged for a moment. “Just had to make sure. Little twitchy after our late night visitor last night.”
“Who stopped by last night?” Duke stood up off of the floor and walked into the kitchen, sitting down on one of the counters like Tim, Steph and Cass had started doing.
Jason set his coffee mug (which read “World’s Greatest Dad” in a similar red to his helmet) down on the counter with a little more force than necessary. “The Bat.” Jason turned to the fridge to pull out the coffee creamer, but frowned when the only creamer left was the Southern Butter Pecan Pie flavour. He simply reached past and grabbed the milk to add to his coffee instead of creamer. “He wanted to know why I’d ‘taken you as well’. Because he sees you all as things to be taken and not children to be taken care of.”
---
Jason pressed a kiss to Steph and Cass’ foreheads before hitching Damian further up on his hip. “I’ll be back later. I just need to take Damian to finish introducing him to his aunt’s aunts and uncles. Unless of course, you two wish to join us.”
Steph looked at Cass and shrugged. “Timmy’s got work. I think Bart is out running around.”
Cass nodded before mussing up her hair and frowning at her sister in question.
“Kon might be in Kansas, I think he mentioned going to visit Clark’s parents. Cassie is hanging out with Donna, getting advice most likely. Cissie is spending the day with Oliver.” Steph slung an arm around Cass’ shoulders and smiled. “Give us a few minutes to get dressed and then we’ll join you.”
Jason nodded, a small smile on his face. “Of course. Take all the time you need.”
Steph and Cass disappeared into the room they had officially claimed, coming out a few minutes later in coordinated outfits.
Steph walked out wearing a dark purple crop top with black shorts and a black sweater tied around her waist. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and a pair of black sunglasses, easily recognized as Kon’s, sat atop her head.
Cass, who walked out just a step behind Steph, wore a black t-shirt under a black and yellow flannel paired with black high-waisted jeans. Her hair was freely flowing around her shoulders while her wrists sported scrunchies she’d pilfered from Cassie and Cissie.
Jason shook his head at his sisters, Cass who was just a scant six months older than he was but acted so much younger and Steph who was just a few months older than Tim, and smiled. “Any particular reason for the attire today?”
“Just felt like coordinating.” Steph smiled at Jason and slung an arm around Cass. “Well, what are we waiting for?”
---
Jason led the way into the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, his sisters just behind him and Damian clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping him attached to the planet.
“So, not to question your sanity or anything but, why are we here?” Stephanie’s voice was filled with trepidation and Cass’ arm was wrapped around Steph’s in an act of comfort for both girls.
“One of Thana’s uncles is here right now. He’ll be out soon. Do not compare him to the guy who killed me.” Jason smiled at the guards on duty and continued into the building.
The person at the front desk, a young individual of indeterminate gender with short brown hair and brown eyes, looked up from the clipboard in front of them and deadpanned. “Name of the patient you’re here to see?”
“Jerome Valeska. He should be expecting me, Jason Todd.” Jason smiled and shifted slightly so Damian’s face was more comfortably buried in his neck. “My son and sisters will also be joining us today.”
The receptionist nodded and jotted down the details relayed to them. “Identification?”
Jason handed over his identification card while Steph and Cass pulled out their driver’s licenses. “My son is only nine and only has a passport, will that work?”
The receptionist nodded and smiled. “A passport will work.”
Jason pulled Damian’s passport out of his pocket and handed it over. “We’ll come back to collect those when we’re finished visiting.”
“Have a good visit.”
“Thank you.” Jason smiled and led the way back into the rehabilitation center, his sisters sticking close to his back with their free hands clinging to the back of his shirt just over where Damian’s leg rested, passing the cells filled with the more humane residents of the asylum. Jason paid them no mind, having grown used to their hooting and hollering as he passed on his previous visits.
The little four person group of the family finally reached the rehabilitation center and were let in by one of the orderlies, a bulkier individual dressed in teal scrubs. They all gave the orderly a smile and a nod as they passed into the room.
Jerome was sitting at a table with blank sheets of paper mixed in with sheets of paper filled with writing, and as soon as Jason could read what was on the paper he could see that the pages were filled with apologies and plans to become a better person if for no one other than his favourite niece and her wellbeing. Jerome looked up when Jason started to cast a shadow across his paper. “Hey buddy. You’re standing in my- Jason! What a surprise!”
Jason’s face grew soft, a smile on his face and pulled out the chair next to Jerome to sit down in. Damian was settled into Jason’s lap while Steph and Cass sat down in the chairs next to Jason’s. “How are you today Jerome?”
“I’ve been better.” Jerome had been better, before his parents and his uncle died, before his twin fell apart and brought him down with him. Jerome had been happy in the circus, performing with his family for crowds of people who adored their act, and then everything changed.
“Jerome, I’d like you to meet my son. Damian al Ghul-Todd, nephew of your niece Thana Todd, as well as my sisters, Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown.”
“Oh come on Jace. Why’d you have to use last names?” Steph pouted and punched Jason’s upper arm.
“Because now that Uncle Jerome knows of your parentage he’ll be less likely to toss anything you say aside.” Jason smiled as Jerome spoke about himself in the third person.
“What he said.” Jason let out a chuckle. Damian frowned at the lack of attention he was receiving and simply headbutted Jason in the chin. “Yes, yes, we know you’re here Kutlat Saghira. I’m sorry that we’re not paying attention to you.”
Damian pouted and puffed out his cheeks. “Baba, not here.”
Jason smiled at his son, knowing that he was safe in his arms. “I love you my Little Nugget.”
“Baba!” Damian frowned and looked towards the table, effectively ignoring the four other people at the table.
Steph and Cass watched the moment between father and son, sharing only a look before looking back at the duo.
Jerome watched as his niece’s brother smiled at his child, glad that he got to see it but all he really wanted was to see Thana.
“She’s in the city.” Jason’s voice was quiet, barely heard over the lull of the rest of the patients in the center. “She’s in the city and she, she got so big Jerome. She has a really good group of friends. You’d be proud of her.”
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Ten Things VII
Summary: If there’s one thing you have to know about Harvey Kinkle, it’s that he rarely thinks things through. So when he meets (and falls for) Sabrina Spellman on his first day of Baxter High and finds out that she can’t date anyone until her tempestuous sister does, it seems like the obvious solution is to get someone to date her so he can go out with Sabrina. A not so obvious choice for the challenge is Caliban, but, hey, it’s not like Harvey thought that far.
Masterlist
Prev. | Part 7
Word-count: 3k+
A/N: before you read, i would just like to say, from the bottom of my heart, yikes 💕
For the most part, you rejected cultural, social, and gender norms - being raised by Zelda and growing up with Ambrose had pretty much insured your rebellious streak - but there was a part of you that had always wanted to go to prom.
It was cheesy and lame, and a huge part of you still hated school dances thanks to Nick, but there was always a small, tiny part of you that craved the experience. You wanted to buy a tacky dress that you’d never wear again, dance with a high school sweetheart that would feature in all your stories, and just - for one night - be like everyone else.
Now that you were sitting in the parking lot in a tacky dress you'd never wear again and staring at your reflection in the rearview mirror while you waited for your high school sweetheart, you were starting to have your doubts.
Sure, Sabrina had helped you pick out a dress, Ambrose had done your makeup, and Hilda had twisted your hair into a style that made it seem far less unruly than it usually was, but that didn't change who you were underneath it all. You looked as close to perfect as you’d ever been on the surface, but underneath you just weren't sure if people like you got to be like everyone else.
“Hey.” Sabrina reached over and touched your arm lightly. She looked as perfect as she always did, somehow more so with the annoyingly kind smile on her face. People like Sabrina were built to go to prom. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lied with a smile. You twisted the bracelet that was just too big for your wrist. “Just wondering how Ambrose is coping with the tragic loss of his prom date.”
Sabrina laughed, leaning back in her chair and tilting her head up to the roof. “I’m sure he’ll find some way to go on.”
You gave her another smile and then the car fell into a familiar silence. It was slightly different than usual though. Ordinarily, it was because neither of you had anything to say; tonight, it was because you had too much to say. Anticipation and nervousness hung in the air.
You looked up from your bracelet to find Sabrina watching Nick go into the school. With a sigh, you asked, “Did he ever tell you that we dated?”
“What? No way!” Sabrina spun around to see if you were joking. Her surprise crushed any nervousness in the car. Her wide eyes narrowed as she took you in. “But you hate him.”
“I didn’t always. I mean, he was so totally dreamy and, like, did you know he does modeling on the weekends?” Laughing off your impersonation of Sabrina’s cronies, you shook your head and picked at the details on your dress. “He was different back then. I was still figuring things out. We just kind of … made sense at the time.”
“What happened?” Sabrina asked, concern taking over in the absence of surprise and suspicion.
“Homecoming. He didn’t really respect that I wanted to take things slowly,” you said evenly. “It ended in this huge fight and he threatened to tell people we slept together anyway. I told him if he ever did that, I’d tell everyone that he made me wear his mother’s clothes first and that those swimsuit photos were, uh, very heavily edited.”
Sabrina laughed and leaned back in her chair again. “Wow, you and Nick …” She let out a long breath and shook her head. Then she frowned and shuddered. “Gross.”
It was your turn to laugh and sink into your chair. You grabbed hold of Sabrina’s hand and looked over at her. “Yeah, it is pretty gross.”
The two of you were quiet again and anxiety filled up the space between you. Neither of you had ever been in this position before. Neither of you had ever been speechless before.
“Are you nervous?” Sabrina asked quietly. It felt like the slightest noise would shatter the air you breathed.
“A little,” you confessed. Light from one of the lamposts filtered through the windshield and hit your intertwined hands. It was hard to believe, when the two of you sat like this, that you hated one another six months ago. “I really like him, Brina.”
“Me too.”
“I keep feeling like I’m gonna mess it all up somehow.”
“Me too.”
You turned your head to look at her, maybe to tell her that she was crazy if she thought she could mess anything up or maybe to tell her to say something longer than two words, but you didn't get the chance to say anything or confess any more secrets.
Caliban and Harvey knocked on yours and Sabrina’s windows with three quick blows and the two of you sprang apart. You cursed them out with some very descriptive and lengthy profanities, but unlocked the doors for them anyway.
Instead of yelling, Sabrina laughed, stumbled out, and wrapped Harvey in a clumsy hug.
While you were marveling at how easy it was for her to be, Caliban opened your door. He hung in the frame, the smell of ocean-scented shampoo and reckless ambition filled your lungs and washed away your anxieties. “You look lovely,” he said with a quiet smile.
How you responded would define your night. Could you be like everyone else for a night or were you simply not built for that kind of easy lightness?
Deciding to leave the anger in the car for the night, you gave him a playful smile and tugged on the edges of his jacket. “You’re not so bad yourself, Sparky.”
Before Caliban had the chance to respond, you smoothed your hand along his jacket and settled your fingers lightly on his neck. Your other hand held onto his shirt as you pressed a kiss to his lips.
"I should get dressed up more often," Caliban murmured when you pulled away. You gave him another smile and he stepped back and held a hand out to help you out of the car.
The two of you made your way into the school without a single witty one-liner escaping either of your lips.
---
Harvey had heard of people who got quiet when they were nervous and about how, even when they felt like they were going to explode, they appeared cool and calm to the untrained eye. Unfortunately, he realized he would never be one of them.
From the moment he and Caliban surprised the two of you in the parking lot and Sabrina nearly toppled him over with that hug, he had been unable to keep his mouth shut for more than thirty seconds.
It wasn’t like he wanted to make Sabrina’s ears bleed with bad jokes and unclever observations about the dance around them, or ramble on about his history assignment and how Theo finally worked up the courage to ask Robin to be his date. If he had it his way, he would be as charming and cavalier as Caliban was when he was with you.
But he wasn’t. Harvey was anxious to every eye, trained or not.
Sabrina, thankfully, seemed to find it cute. She’d kiss him whenever he needed a distraction and even managed to convince him to dance. Granted, he would have done anything to make her smile but still. It’s not like he was any good at it.
Harvey would step on her feet at times and go left when he was meant to go right, but Sabrina didn’t mind. She’d laugh and lead him in the direction. She was perfect.
If all dances were like this, then Harvey was starting to think they might not be so bad, anxiety be damned.
Looking over at you and Caliban, he figured you guys were thinking something similar. Caliban had given you his jacket and the two of you were holding onto one another and dancing in place. It was a very sweet scene, made funnier by the fact that Harvey knew the two of you were probably scheming something terrible instead of whispering ‘sweet nothings’ (as Ambrose called it).
---
"You can't tell me you don't know any dances," Caliban said, an amused smile on his lips. "I've met your aunts and I don't believe they wouldn't teach you at least one formal dance."
"I know one," you said. Before he had the chance to ask which, you rushed to add, "But it's not really something you can break out at a school dance without looking like an asshole," you told him.
Caliban laughed and shook his head at you. "I hate to break it to you, love, but everyone here already thinks we're assholes. So, just tell me what it is so we can stop swaying in place."
Begrudgingly, you dropped your gaze and mumbled something into Caliban's chest.
"Sorry, what was that?" Caliban asked.
You sighed and looked up at him. He could have sworn that you almost looked nervous. "Ambrose taught me to lindy hop before he figured out that Sabrina was a much more agreeable partner," you said.
"The lindy hop," Caliban repeated. As he said it, an image of you and Amrose swirling around the living room with all the furniture shoved up against the walls popped into his head. It was sweet. "We could try it, if you want."
"It's been years," you said quickly. "I- I don't even know if I still remember how to do it!"
Caliban knew that arguing would get him nowhere, so he let go of one of your hands and twirled you out instead. When you spun back into him, muscle memory had the two of you bouncing around and stepping in sync in no time.
Soon, you were laughing and twirling and looking as carefree as Caliban had ever seen you. And then the first punch was thrown.
---
Before all hell had broken loose, Harvey had spent his time talking nonstop and keeping an eye on you guys as well as watching over Nick. He’d been moping for most of the night, just drinking from a flask while some girls tried to flirt with him, but Harvey knew better than to underestimate him. Nick could be a loose cannon.
Although he stayed away for most of the night, Nick eventually got rowdy and staggered over. His speech wasn’t slurred but alcohol tinged every word.
He pointed a very accusatory finger at Sabrina. “You’re supposed to be here with me,” Nick snarled.
“I’m not supposed to do anything,” Sabrina said. “Nick, you should leave.”
“What? Am I ruining your perfect night?” Nick looked over at Harvey. He wasn't sober enough to glare, so it was a sloppy, angry look. “You screwing the new kid now?”
Harvey let go of Sabrina to take a step closer to Nick. “You are way, out of line, man. Just get out of here before I kick your ass.”
“Oh, please. Save the knight in shining armor crap for someone who gives a shit.”
Some other words were said, but they all led up to the same thing: Harvey punching Nick just above his jaw.
---
Though Harvey had a pretty decent left hook, Nicholas appeared to be a bit of scrapper, sloppy as he was. Caliban didn’t have the chance to say anything before you’d torn yourself away from him. Not a single beat was skipped before the two of you went to break up the fight.
You’d pulled Harvey back at the same time that Caliban pulled Nick back by his wrist and pinned it behind his back. Caliban gave you his best smile - the two of you made a good team.
“Oh, of course, you came to the rescue,” Nick spat, craning his neck to scowl at Caliban. “Caliban. What kind of name is that anyway? Actually, I don’t care. I want my money back.”
Your hold on Harvey faltered. Both he and Sabrina were frozen next to you, and Caliban just knew you'd pieced it together. “Your money?” you asked.
“Awww, didn’t anyone tell you kitty cat?” Nick asked. He laughed as Caliban twisted his arm to make him shut up. “Your boy here is on my payroll. He only asked you out because my buddy Ben Franklin asked.”
Something inside you clicked, anger replacing the momentary shock, and Caliban knew there was no going back. You pushed Harvey away from you and scoffed. “Unbelievable.”
“It’s not what you think,” Caliban rushed out.
“Actually, it’s exactly what I think. Isn’t it, Nick? You wanted to go out with my sister and paid him to get me out of the way?” you asked. Your voice was shaking even though you were remarkably composed, but Caliban knew the rage that must have been under your skin. He’d never meant to hurt you but it was too late for that now.
“Exactly,” Nick said.
You shook your head and stormed past them, knocking your shoulder into Caliban’s on your way out. Sabrina called out to you but you ignored her cries, Nick’s laughter, and everyone else.
As much as Caliban wanted to punch Nick’s face in, he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t go after you. He shoved Nick down to the ground and raced after you.
---
You’d been angry before. Anger was when Sabrina borrowed your favorite shirt and ruined it, or when Billy said something ignorant and/or offensive. That's how you knew that this wasn’t anger. This was a blind fury mixed with hurt and betrayal, accompanied by some very stubborn tears.
Your first instinct had been to hide in the bathroom and clean yourself up, but you ran the risk of someone finding you if you did that. So, instead, you made a b-line for your car. Harvey would take Sabrina home, and you were too pissed at both of them to care if he didn't, anyway. All you needed was to leave before you blew up.
But Caliban wasn’t making your escape easy for you. He rushed after you and grabbed your hand just as you got to the sidewalk that led to the parking lot. “Look, I can explain-”
“No!” You spun around and pushed him away from you. He looked hurt and confused but he had no right to be. He used you. He knew how you felt and he used you anyway. “I told you to tell me,” you said, hitting his chest weakly and struggling not to cry at the sight of him. Your voice shook. “I fucking told you and you just-”
“I couldn’t tell you!” Caliban’s voice wasn’t shaking but it definitely wasn’t his usual cool tone. “I couldn’t, okay? I had feelings for you long before Nicholas was in the picture and-”
“I don’t care! You lied to me, Caliban,” you said. You couldn’t yell at him anymore; it hurt too much. “I trusted you and you lied to me.”
Caliban couldn’t yell either. His voice was raw and shaking when he spoke again, but he reached out and touched your face gently before he tried. He wiped away one of your tears with his thumb. “I’m sorry.”
“I hate you,” you lied, voice trembling.
“I know.” Caliban's voice was quiet as he pulled his hand away. He hadn't looked away from you once. “I should go check on Harvey.”
“Then leave.”
Caliban gave you a solemn nod and turned to head back inside. The doors swung shut behind him and you started crying. Ugly, broken, and embarrassing sobs. When your hands went up to your face, you felt Caliban’s jacket brush your skin and your anger flared back up again.
You ripped your hands away and tore the jacket off, throwing it to the ground as hard as you could. Something clinking inside caught your attention. Warily, you bent down and felt for whatever it was, eventually pulling out his car keys.
You got to your feet and pointed the keys towards the parking lot. Somewhere in the distance, his car beeped and a terrible, impulsive idea started forming.
---
There were a lot of things Sabrina could put up with, but Nick Scratch was not one of them. She picked him up off the floor after Caliban threw him down and then she punched him in the gut. It was a lot more painful than they made it look in the movies, but man, did it feel good.
“That’s for breaking my sister’s heart,” she told him matter-of-factly. He was still in the process of recovering when she hit him again and burst a vein in his nose. “That’s for Harvey.” She kneed him in the one spot she knew he definitely didn’t want to be kneed. “And that’s for me.”
Ignoring Nick's broken wails, Sabrina stormed out of the dance. She blew past Caliban and a dozen confused freshmen, and went to look for you. Your car was still in the lot but she couldn’t see you anywhere. She tried calling multiple times but there was never any answer.
She’d just about given up when Harvey showed up, but then you picked up before he could say anything.
“Oh, my god. Are you okay?” Sabrina rushed out, clutching Harvey’s hand.
If there was one thing you hated, it was dumb questions. Your annoyance was evident when you snapped, “I’m just peachy.”
“Where are you?” Sabrina asked.
“Can you pick me up on the other side of the mines?” you asked. “Give me half an hour first.”
“Anything you need,” Sabrina said. “I love you.”
“Yeah, I love you, too.”
Sabrina held onto the phone even after you’d hung up. She felt sick to her stomach at the thought of what you were going through. Because of her. Taking a deep breath, she let go of Harvey’s hand. “I need to go.”
Harvey’s face was full of concern. “Can I come with you?”
“No. I need to talk to my sister,” she said. She leaned up and kissed his cheek. “Thank you. I had fun before …”
Before she crushed you.
Part 8
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Fate episode 6
When last we left Elemental Academy, I was seeing doomful parallels to every Bad Ending arc in Higurashi. And sadly, I like the three adults and my genre-savvy tells me they won’t all make it through this last episode.
How much of a downer will the ending be? Who will end up screwing everything up? (my money’s on Bloom.) Who’s for the chop? (my guess is Silva and one out of Dane, Riven or Beatrix.) Will we finally learn the red truth of what happened at Aster Dell? Will we ever get the skinny on what the heck Burned Ones are? Will the show finally give me the lowdown on changelings that I’ve been whining about since episode one? Will we get the full story on Bloom’s destiny? (My money’s on no to at least three of the four.)
And I suppose we’ll finally answer the question we started with: Good, bad or irredeemable?
One last time, let’s dive in!
We pick up right where we left off, Bloom having a mental chat with Rosalind! Rosalind says, ‘Do you have any idea how special you are?”
...waitwaitwait, is there gonna be a prophecy? There’s always a prophecy! A prophecy that the Chosen one would be born in Aster Dell and that’s the real reason Rosalind nuked the place. Only she didn’t know which of the babies it was, she guessed Beatrix and she guessed wrong.
Am I right? Sorry, I barely let the episode start, let’s get back.
Rosalind encourages Bloom to bust her out. Bloom flames her eyes up.
Aaaaand we cut back to the girls in the corridor. Terra wonders what they could be talking about and Stella teases that she once heard Terra talk about dirt for two hours. I’m liking friendly Stella, but she faceturned faster than Tinx at the end of WoW!
Terra’s also worried Beatrix may recover from being frozen and come after them. Sensible, Terra! But no, Beatrix will be gone when you get back, off getting the mysterious “him.” I know how these shows work!
Ahahahaha! I’m right! Beatrix is gone! I swear I type these things while I watch, all guesses are genuine!
And then Dowling, Harvey and Aisha bust in. Yeah girls, you might’ve not done this during a Burned One attack! Harvey says “Not another word!” which nobody listening is why y’all gonna get the bad ending, and the girls follow him. Stella resurrects her inner witch to tell Aisha, ‘Hope the brownie points you get from this will keep you company when you’ve got no friends.” simmer down Stell, she was trying to protect people’s lives… Aisha goes with the girls leaving Dowling to go after Bloom alone.
Rosalind is coaching Bloom on how to burn through the barrier. Bloom’s grinning, because magic feels hot and dangerous and you just want more. Then the barrier goes down and Bloom has a moment of worry about what she’s done before she… has a very caring moment, she grabs Rosalind assuming the older fairy will need water and food after being trapped for so long. That is really sweet, Bloom. But Rosalind says, ‘No. I need magic.”
And here comes Dowling! I assumed Rosalind would steal Dowling’s magic, but when the headmistress gets there everybody’s gone.
Opening!
Bloom and Rosalind come out a door in the graveyard out in the forest. Secret passage! Dowling doesn’t know about it. Dowling doesn’t know about lots of things, according to Rosalind. Bloom really should be having second thoughts here. Rosalind has an evil face!
Harvey reads the girls the riot act. He’s wearing his army coat, the same kind Rosalind wears, from their soldier days. He’s horrified about all the girls have done. He turns to go.
And Terra jumps up, “You lied again! About Rosalind, about everything, and you’re angry with ME? You can’t punish me for not knowing something you didn’t tell me!”
Yes! Get ‘em Terra!
Stella and Musa tennis-match look from daughter to father.
Harvey just says, “I suggest you all cool down!” and leaves without facing his daughter’s very sensible argument. And he magics the doors locked.
Terra: ‘I’ve caught him in a logic trap and he’s used his magic to ground us.’
Stella: “That means you won.”
Then aisha heads for her room to “deescalate the situation by removing myself from it” and Stella calls her a rat of a teacher’s pet and Musa asks for a brief pause so she can get her headphones. She flees into her room as Stella and Aisha get into it.
There’s Sam! Hiding in Musa and Terra’s room!
Stella says everyone over five knows not to snitch, even terra knows not to snitch, and Terra gives her a look. Aisha brings the logic: burned Ones, outside! Bloom, kinda single minded! Rosalind, an extra problem we don’t need right now!
Dowling checks the stone circle. Nobody there.
When she leaves, Rosalind and Bloom appear. So Rosalind is mind/light at least. Rosalind puts her hands over the center stone and absorbs magic.
Bloom asks what happened at Aster Dell. Rosalind makes a very evil face. ‘Everything Farah told you is true. I lied to them. I told then Aster Dell was evacuated. It wasn’t.”
Bloom starts to wonder if maybe she released a baddie.
But rosalind has more to say. ‘One of the fundamental tenets of the Otherworld is that only fairies can do magic. The settlers of Aster Dell were the exception. They were humans who drew on sacrifice and death. Blood witches.”
Gee it’d have been nice to hear that fundamental tenet sometime before the last episode! 9_9
So Rosalind saw an opportunity to wipe out the totally unforeshadowed witches along with the Burned Ones. And Bloom was a fairy baby kidnapped by the witches. Her fairy parents are still unknown. Bloom’s freaking out, but Rosalind just says, ‘You weren’t safe in the Otherworld, the power inside you was too great. that’s why the witches wanted you, to use your power.” and the Burned Ones can sense Bloom’s power and want to get rid of it before it’s used on them.
Yikes! Bloom realizes her presence is putting everybody in danger!
Rosalind: ‘Sucks to be special sometimes, doesn’t it.” But now they can go after the Burned Ones! And Rosalind has another trick to teach Bloom…
Hmm, so these Burned Ones were just… around? And gathering because they sensed Bloom’s magic? I assumed someone summoned them back after not being seen for 16 years.
We go to the fighters at the barrier. Remember how last episode Bloom drugged Sky and left him passed out at the stone circle? Well Aisha found out somehow and told the teachers so Silva is giving Sky the “why did I find this out from Aisha?’ and Sky hits back with, “Why’d I have to find out about Aster dell from Bloom?” But they’re in the middle of a siege situation here so Silva logically suggests they talk about that later.
Another few specialists including Riven and a girl named Kat who knows Stella are watching Noura’s last video. Kat thinks she knows where it was shot. Silva says, “Let’s go.” Just him and five students. Riven says, ‘Without fairies? that’s fucking stupid, there’s six of them!” and Sky shuts him down; order’s an order. That’s the most twit-ish thing Sky has done this whole show.
They hear Burned Ones growling… but it’s coming from the direction of the school! Yikes! Everyone rushes back!
At Alfea, the lights, that were never bright anyway so we’d remember this is a dark show, flicker out! Terra says the electricity runs on magic and there are energy wells… Sam says he’ll go check it out. He Kitty Prydes it through the door, unbothered my the sealing spell. So if he can phase, can Terra learn it too?
Spooky empty corridors! Flickering lights! Sam all alone! Y’know Sam probably can’t do that trick Kitty does where an enemy launches at her and goes right through, because he can only phase through earth-y and plant-y stuff.
Yikes! It’s a jump scare! Burned One right in Sam’s face! It claws him and he goes down yelling in pain!
But he manages to get back into the girls’ suite to tell them there’s a Burned One loose in the school!
Back with Bloom and Rosalind, Rosalind’s encouraging Bloom to channel lots of magic. “More! Let the fire consume you! Control limits you!” bloom says she’s scared and Rosalind encourages her to embrace that feeling, to enjoy it! “And with the right people around you...”
Bloom unflames. “You mean with you.” Bloom’s realized it! “You want me to listen to you and trust you and let you guide me? I just met you.’ and that’s not all! Bloom realizes Rosalind left her on earth a danger to everyone around her, to hide her from Dowling. “Without any guidance.”
Rosalind: ‘The guidance you needed was love. Farah couldn’t give that to you. Vanessa and Michael could.” Ugh, so their names are canon. And Rosalind knew about their baby and “gave them a second chance. And I gave you a hiding place from the monsters that wanted you dead.” And rosalind says she’ll always look out for Bloom, and when this is over they’ll find Bloom’s birth parents.
I dunno Bloom, maybe ask a whole lot more about how she knew about an Earth couple whose baby had a heart defect?
It had occurred to me that Beatrix might be the other half of the changeling swap, if there’s healing magic that can fix things like that.
But no time for that, Burned Ones are in the school and the girls are stuck in their room! Bloom has to go help. She asks Rosalind if she’s charged up enough to help help. Rosalind says she can’t, “But you don’t need it. BS, Rosalind, you could totally help. But Bloom runs off leaving the lady with the evil face all alone.
In the suite, Sam is getting worse, they can’t get out, and cel phones are giving up.
Bloom races toward the school. She hears noises from every side… but there’s Sky! At least bloom seems relieved he’s ok after she spiked his drink. He doesn’t seem nearly as upset as he should be over that, but I guess we gotta save the school first!
Inside dark halls there’s Riven and Kat with flashlights. They hear noises, but it’s just some students led by a male fire fairy with a handful of flames. Kat goes with them to the “courtyard” which I’ve been calling the cafeteria, I guess it’s outside? The big set with the arches and walkway overlooking it.
So Riven’s all alone to get the rest of the students from this area! He goes into the greenhouse… and there’s Dane! And Beatrix lying asleep on a table. Dane brought Beatrix here but she’s still paralyzed from the spell and Dane doesn’t know how to help her.
Riven just says it sucks for her and she’s not worth it. Which true we’d be better off without her but also yikes, heartless much Riven?
Dane: “She cares about you and I know you care about her. Don’t act like you don’t.”
Riven shrugs and turns to go and Dane grabs him. Riven says fine, he’ll help. Dunno why they don’t just carry Beatrix to where the students are gathering, that’d be safer for everyone.
Sky and Bloom are having the “you drugged me.” conversation. And the “I trusted you, I told you things.’ and “you trusted me but you’d still have stopped me.’ and “you were gonna release a murderer and a crazy ex-headmistress.” and Bloom starts realizing everyone had reasons for what they did and Sky wraps it up, ‘just because they’re doing what they thought was right doesn’t mean that it is.”
Back with the girls, Sam’s getting worse and something is banging on the door! it’s Sky! Did he just kick his way through an enspelled door? Badass.
Sky and Stella look at each other and say hey.
Then we all head for the courtyard and comparative safety!
Dowling is magically sealing the beautiful arched doors with trees in them, she tells the boy fire fairy to get his compatriots to weld them shut, and everyone to start making barricades. Silva’s handing out armor to fairies who want it. Harvey has a whole chemistry lab set up with a lunch lady helping him. Badass Marco is still getting treatment for his injury when the girls bring Sam in for help. Sam’s in a bad way. Harvey asks why they didn’t bring him immediately and Terra reminds him they were locked in their room. Harvey flinches.
Dowling stands on the stage where we saw Luna before, as behind her fire fairies weld the doors. She tells them the situation: Burned Ones in, power out. But she got word to Queen Luna and the army’s on the way! Everyone looks at Stella when she says that. They’re safe in the courtyard… but if the Burned Ones get through before the army comes, they’ll have to fight. Dowling does her best to be inspiring, “Let’s show them what it means to be Alfeans!” But I just feel… the lack of history. And I know, we have history. Feels like we don’t.
Sky and Stella have a moment. Bloom told him Stella ran away from home. Stella: “Home’s on its way here, so that’s fun.” Sky offers to help her hide but Stella says she’d love to take him up on it but… ‘Breaking up was the right thing to do, we never should’ve gotten back together. We are codependant at best, toxic at worst. This time I have to deal with it myself.” yay Stella! Grow into a better person! Sky says she sounds just like Bloom and Stella jokes that that’s what he’s into these days.
Meanwhile Bloom is following Dowling trying to convince her not to be mad. ‘Rosalind isn’t the monster you think she is.”
Bloom, you just met her you said it yourself!
“She had a reason to lie. The settlers of Aster Dell weren’t innocent. They were blood witches. And my birth parents weren’t even there.”
Dowling just sighs and says “She certainly has a way of winning people over doesn’t she.” Dangit, I wanted her to just kill the retcon and say, “there’s no such thing as blood witches, Bloom.”
Bloom goes with, ‘is your ego so fragile you can’t even consider for a minute you might be wrong about her?” Dowling says Rosalind is just manipulating, Bloom says you’re doing that too, and Dowling sensibly points out Dowling could be here defending herself and also defending the school.
Bloom flinches from that logic but says Rosalind is still too weak.
Dowling says the stone circle is the conduit to the magic of the land. It supplies everything… like the electricity. And the barrier.
Yup. Nice job breaking it, hero! Bloom singlehandedly brings about the bad ending!
Bloom says the Burned Ones are after her, and Dowling had figured that out. Bloom says she knows how to fight them now, but Dowling points out, ‘you’re he reason we’re in this mess, you’ve done enough. Help the other fire fairies weld the doors if you want to.’
And she strides off, pausing to suggest to Aisha that the other water fairies could use her leadership.
Aisha had been coming to talk to bloom I think, but she changes her mind.
In the greenhouse Dane and Riven are making a medicine to revive Beatrix. Turns out Riven is good at potions because he used to hang out with Terra. ‘Look, I’ll deny saying this but she’s not the worst.”
Ok, that makes Riven’s nasty remark to Terra in the first episode way worse.
Riven: “I might’ve led you astray this year...’
Dane: “you didn’t. Beatrix is special.”
Riven: ‘You are gay, right? I’m not blind? I know when someone wants my dick.”
Dane: “I think you’re hot. She is too, in a different way.”
There’s nothing like a cute threesome! ...and this is nothing like a cute threesome. But now the problematic element sits up and says, ‘You made the right choice. Rosalind will be impressed. When this is all over, you’re going to want to be on our side.”
Burned Ones growl! Rosalind pulls magic from the stone circle!
And Sam is in a bad way. There was a splinter of Burned One claw near his heart. Dang, I should’ve put him on the list of people for the chop! Musa tries to use her mind magic to take some of his pain, but it’s too much for her.
Harvey starts falling apart, stuttering that he can’t get the splinter out. Terra encourages her father, and Harvey manages to pull the claw splinter out. sam’s alive, but until the Burned One that tagged him is dead it’s only a matter of time!
The fire fairy boy says he heard they have the rest of the night and a whole day before the army comes. Too long for Sam, and if the Burned Ones get through the doors too long for all of them. Bloom, who’d been watching in horror the results of her bad choices, sets her lips and strides out.
Bustle of students putting up barricades. Sky is working with Badass Marco, then he turns and there’s Bloom with an apology. “I should’ve been honest with you like you were honest with me and I’m sorry.” And she reassures him that the kiss was honest, and gives him another one for emphasis!
Sky: “If I still say I don’t believe you, can we do it again?”
Well Sky is the most sane and stable person here, he’ll be good for Bloom! And immediately her catches Bloom’s glance and says, ‘whatever you’re thinking of doing… I’m here.”
And Aisha knows Bloom’s gonna try something, because Bloom always tries something and this time she thinks it’s her fault. Stella tries the, ‘If only her friend hadn’t turned on her..” and Aisha feels bad and she’s sorry. And here’s Bloom, come to get them! It’s the last episode, we all get to go fight!
Sky’s not with them, he’s with Silva and Silva has a final confession to make. Because he thinks they’re all gonna die tonight, he wants to tell Sky the truth about what happened at Aster Dell. Because that was where Sky’s father died. But Sky thought he died in battle…
Flashback! On the plains. Silva is yelling that there were still people, the town wasn’t evacuated. He wants to run and tell Rosalind. This must be while the magic users are up on the cliff ready to call down lightning. Silva says his friends think they’re only killing Burned Ones, but Andreas says Rosalind knows the truth. And he’s going with what Rosalind said.
Silva says ‘I know Rosalind gave you a sense of purpose, I know you’re indebted to her.” backstory there, but surely Andreas wouldn’t be on side for nuking hundreds of people?! Silva says, orders or morals? And Andreas… yep, he’s Team Rosalind. he’s not gonna let Silva warn the others.
He does not say, “They’re evil blood witches, we’ll show you the evidence and then come back.” which is really the only correct thing to say here.
Punches are thrown! The two warriors scuffle. Then Andreas goes for his sword. Silva draws his own. And a few swings in, he runs Andreas through. And races to the top of the bluff to stop his friends being accessories to a massacre.
Oof! What a thing for Sky to learn! And before that, Silva says, Andreas really was a great hero. Just… flawed. As we all are. That’s not much good and sky snaps, ‘What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?” But he’ll have to work it out later because now the Burned Ones are breaking in!
Dowling and the specialists move to the front, Dowling saying, ‘Keep your emotions in check. Runaway fear leads to runaway magic.”
In the clinic Harvey and Terra battle to keep Sam alive. Terra goes to get help and finds Musa zoned out with headphones. Terra begs for help and Musa says she can’t bear to feel somebody she cares about die, not again. This Musa’s mother dies last year, and Musa was with her and felt everything. Oof! The two girls hang onto each other and cry for a moment then Terra says, ‘It’s ok. I’m not gonna let him die.” And, understanding, leaves Musa to her music. But headphones can’t shut out the sound of the Burned Ones banging on the walls!
In the courtyard terra walks right up past everybody and starts dismanteling the barricade! ‘We’re hiding when we should be fighting.” Silva tells her they’re gonna be fighting soon enough and indeed, here comes a Burned One through the roof! The boy fire fairy blasts it and Kat is ready to skewer the thing when it… passes them?
It’s looking for Bloom! Who was last seen sneaking out a trapdoor with Stella and Aisha! The banging stops, and Dowling figures out Bloom has left to draw the enemy away!
The girls emerge from the secret passage in the graveyard.
Harvey calls Terra over as she is clearly headed out to fight, but he says she needs to stay with her brother, to help him hold on until the Burned One is destroyed. Then Musa appears and takes Sam’s hand. She’ll help him as long as she can.
Outside Stella points out that her mom is on the way with a real live army, but Bloom says there’s no time for that. Rosalind taught her how to stop the Burned Ones but she has to do big magic and she’s not sure how that’ll work. She needs help. Aisha will be there with her water magic in case the forest catches fire, and Stella can hide them.
Bloom: “Rosalind wants me to believe that she’s the person I need to get through this. But she’s not.
Aisha pulls the water from the pond into a cyclone around Bloom. Bloon lights up her eyes and lifts off the ground and… transforms. Transforms-ish. Flames spiral around her arms and legs, and around her body. Bloom’s clothes don’t change but fiery veined wings open behind her, first very large then dwindling as Bloom lands back on the ground.
The designers definitely could’ve watched PGSM to get this, if they then decided to tone things way down. And why not change her clothes? I’m sure they could’ve managed something. As a live action transformation sequence it’s… ok. They were trying for something cool and they had some good ideas how to get there, the fie spirals were good, but they needed to really run with it and they didn’t. So it’s just ok.
And how the night did Rosalind know the long lost secret of how to transform?
Burned Ones advance and Bloom blasts them with fire one after another. When the last one is down, her wings go out. And where the Burned Ones fell are… specialists? People, anyway.
Dowling arrives and Bloom collapses in her arms, then Aisha and Stella rush over to help. “We did it.’
Inside Sam suddenly feels much better! Terra hugs Musa. The lights come back on.
In the greenhouse too, where Beatrix and the boys are ready to bring the bad ending! I still smell a bad ending, because we just had a good ending but there’s twenty minutes more to go! The boys say they should rejoin their classmates but Beatrix says they should wait to meet Rosalind and her dad, who have a plan. ‘The two of you can be part of it. This doesn’t have to end.”
Dane asks if it was her dad who sent her to Alfea and B says he’s technically not her dad… and here’s Rosalind coming in the greenhouse doors. She and Beatrix recognize each other though they can’t have met. B says the boys are her friends and Rosalind reads their minds. I wanna say the boys are wondering what they’ve gotten into but… no, they don’t seem to be seeing anythuing wrong with this at all.
The girls are putting Bloom to bed, talking about the good ending they think they have. Sam will be fine, Terra’s great at doctoring and she’s sad she missed seeing Bloom’s wings. Tinkerbell is mentioned and I can just hear my friend cringing as they say Bloom’s wings were cooler than Tinkerbell’s. Bloom’s parents call and Aisha talks to them, covering for Bloom. She calls it her ‘one allocated lie of the week” which is weird. Bloom’s awake and fine, she could talk to her folks. Aisha says they’ve been having killer exams and the girls giggle.
Nobody says, ‘ohmigod the secret of wings was lost ages ago, what exactly did you do? help us all learn it!” which seems like a very obvious thing for everybody to be saying.
Also being all happy and going to bed while Rosalind and Beatrix are unaccounted for is a weird choice!
Silva and some specialists are scouting for her. No luck. They find Dowling with the bodies of the ex-Burned Ones.
Dowling: “Bloom transformed, Saul. She spent one night with Rosalind and unlocked ancient fairy magic, magic we thought was lost. She told Bloom the settlers of Aster dell weren’t civilians, they were blood witches.”
And Silva seems to believe it. Which of course means he killed his friend for no good reason. If it’s true. But if it’s true why didn’t Rosalind and Andreas tell the others, present evidence of the blood witches’ crimes, and make a plan to deal with things aboveboard? So why does Silva believe it now hearing from Dowling who heard from Bloom who heard from Rosalind well after the fact? But he does believe it and this is his awful moment of guilt.
Sky too is grappling with what he’s just learned, pacing on the lawn outside the school as the night ends.
Bloom finds him as the sun rises and I gotta say, I was not expecting the night to end! Everyone heard Bloom “went full fairy last night.” Bloom says it was the first time she truly felt like herself. She says, “I belong here.” but she realizes Sky is in the same clothes as last night and asks if he’s ok. He says he’s fine, which he isn’t.
Then Dowling comes looking for Bloom. The two fairies go into the headmistress’ office. Bloom’s feeling ok after her big magic, and suddenly she apologizes for all the awful things she’s said to Dowling. “You found me when I was lost, brought me to a safe place, gave me guaidance. Surrounded me with amazing people. And I’ve been...’
Dowling says, ‘It’s forgiven.” And Bloom hesitantly asks for a hug, or maybe offers one. Dowling looks like she’s never heard of hugs before, then she stands up and she and Bloom hug. Dowling totally gets teary-eyed.
Dowling: “When I became headmistress I made a decision. To become a figurehead. To project strength. It’s what students your age need. Admitting mistakes invites uncertainty...but not admittng them means people you care about have to ask you if you hug.”
Awwww, that was sweet! Dowling says she should have been more honest and Bloom says she maybe needed time.
...are we maybe NOT having a bad ending? I mean if Stella confronts her mum that would take up the time and we could end on a good note! Nobody’s dead yet! But all that bad-ending buildup...
‘Cause suddenly we’re back on Earth and Bloom is going to tell them the truth! Which, what good will that do them? And do you even know the truth? People told you lots of things. And the rest of the girls are here to hang out over the weekend! They head upstairs so Bloom can drop the “changeling” bomb in peace.
Music plays, Bloom speaks and her mother cries and looks at a baby book, ultrasounds and a newborn hospital bracelet. They believe it too, the whole mad story of fairies and magic. Of course Bloom summoning double handfuls of fire probably does a lot to convince them.
Sweet family montage, Bloom hugging her parents, the girls at the kitchen table, eating pizza.
Back at Alfea, Silva asks Sky where Riven is. Sky just says he and Dane are probably off getting stoned. When is this? Did y’all not do a full headcount after the battle? Sky is of course not happy with his mentor. Silva just says, ‘one day I hope you’ll see everything I did was for your benefit Sky.” Which, if Silva’s parenting produced Sky the paragon of decency and Andreas’ parenting produced Beatrix the occasionally charming also slutty obsessed murderer, good point there!
Here come some doomful black SUVs! They pull around and out hop a bunch of soldiers who surround the two confused guys.
Queen Luna gets out and… arrests Silva for the attempted murder of Andreas of Eraklyon!
Yow! Poor Silva looks most confused. But there he is, Andreas gets out of an SUV still wearing his specialist vest thingy. Sky looks at his resurrected father in shock!
Dowling is looking over some graves. Rosalind suddenly turns up! Turns out the Burned Ones are a sort of zombie, they were human once so when Bloom turned them human again and dead Dowling buried them. I hope she tried to find their next of kin and stuff too. Rosalind knew about them.
Dowling: “Are there more out there?”
Rosalind: “Shit ton.”
Rosalind must’ve already met Riven, his speech patterns are rubbing off on her!
And then Rosalind delivers the prophecy. There always is one. Or in this case, “There’s a legend. It’s a thousand years old. That’s how old the Burned Ones are, by the way. They were soldiers from an ancient war. The legend is about the magic used against them. It created them. it’s powerful. It’s primal. The Dragon Flame.”
Whaaaaaat? Really? Come on.
And that’s what Bloom’s got and that’s why she could transform. Rosalind let the Burned Ones into the school to see if Bloom could do it. Dowling’s upset about the danger to, y’know, everybody.
Rosalind: “there’s a war on the horizon. The Burned Ones are nothing compared to what’s coming.”
And Rosalind says she’s taking over the school, pretty much. We go back to the front yard where Silva’s getting hauled away in handcuffs and Queen Luna is giving the ordersy and there’s Beatrix watching and inside someone’s taking down Dowling’s portrait and putting up Rosalind’s.
Soldiers march into the greenhouse and Harvey and Sam smile weakly, smart enough not to try anything against six big dudes.
We learn that Andreas has been in hiding all these years because “I needed someone to raise Beatrix.” Uh, wow Andreas is one obedient guy! He also looks a little nutty. I dunno, the very regal beard… it’s too much somehow. Next to him Beatrix smiles at Riven and Dane who are I guess her loyal retainers now.
And then, infodump over… Rosalind straight up MURDERIZES Dowling! Well first she suggests Dowling might want to run away and take some time off, but Dowling is having none of that so Rosalind kills her! And then angry rock music plays as Dowling’s body sinks into the ground and flowers come up over her, making one more grave.
The girls return from their weekend on earth wearing the awful clothes from the trailer and discover… not the three adults they were expecting!
Well that was… something. You got the bad ending all right!
So lemme scroll up and see how good my guesses were…
Nobody but Dowling died, so my death guesses were wrong. And if she’s an earth fairy she might be able to heal herself under the ground or something, I mean weirder things happen in this kind of show. Bloom did indeed doom the school by releasing Rosalind.
We learned what I guess is the truth of Aster Dell, but... unforeshadowed blood witches? Reeeeeally!? That’s what you’re going with? And we found out Burned Ones are ancient zombies created by the unforeshadowed Dragon Flame which Bloom has for some reason. You’re supposed to foreshadow the important stuff for the night’s sake! That’s how things have weight in your story, that’s how you make the world feel real like the parts of it are connected to the other parts of it! The lack of worldbuilding has been bugging me more and more, can you tell?
Anyway we get a season two. I’m pleased because I’ve enjoyed plenty of aspects of Fate, but on the other hand… Fate has turned the already weird Winx fandom into a pit of radioactive rage-bees, and I won’t be sad to put that behind us!
So what about the big question? Good, bad or irredeemable?
I expected to judge how Fate lines up as a Winx Club show, but it… just doesn’t. At all. None of the characters are the same, none of the worldbuilding is the same. It’s apples to oranges.
But as just a show… I think I’d have to go with “bad.” The way the world feels so flimsy, all the really obvious bits of Otherworldbuilding that just aren’t there until the end, or aren’t there at all. All the Earth popular culture references. Beatrix being stuck in a slut stereotype role. All the drugs. All the everyone’s lying to everyone about everything, it got really tiresome. Those things knock the show out of the “good” category.
But there was a lot to like. I have to say, all the actors did a really good job. Given the semi-mess they had to work with, they gave it all they had! Stella was so awful but put across that she’s terrible because she’s terrified. Sky was a truly good person. Beatrix and Riven are objectively terrible people but both had moments of being so charming it was hard to hate them. And Dowling, Silva and Harvey managed to hold up this flimsy worldbuilding and almost make it work. The magic was flimsy but pretty and the castle and the forest are absolutely stunning.
So it’s not good, but there’s something there. So it’s not irredeemable, though there’s a lot we have to wallpaper over with it. I’m’a go with “Bad. The show has charms but is in general bad.”
At least that’s what I think after a five-hour marathon of the last episode! We’ll see what occurs to me in days to come!
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Laughing With Integrity (Chapter 1)
Happy early Mother's Day, everyone! :) And to celebrate, here is a story featuring Izzy (Integrity) and her adopted mother, Heidi (the Snowdin Innkeeper)! :D Yes, after all this time, Izzy, a character that's only been mentioned up until this point, is finally making an actual appearance in one of my stories! ;P Same goes for her adopted mother, Heidi! To everyone that read my "Rabbits! X3" journal on DeviantArt, I told you she would appear in a story before Grillby! ;) She's so underrated! She and all of those other rabbit monsters are so underrated! Though especially Heidi (my headcanon name for her)! And after all this time, she's finally receiving the attention she deserves! She and Izzy both! Haha! Enjoy, my friends; and don't be afraid to leave feedback! :)
Undertale(c) Toby Fox.
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Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
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LAUGHING WITH INTEGRITY
Chapter 1: Izzy (and Heidi)! :D
It is a Friday afternoon; early November; and on this particular afternoon, a little human girl named Izzy is currently resting in her home on the Surface after a productive day of school. Izzy; short for Isabella; possesses a blue Integrity soul, which symbolizes her trait of Integrity. As for her personality and appearance, she is a kind-hearted, fun-loving, flirty (like Frisk), and tomboyish 10-year-old girl; Caucasian; with long, straight, and naturally blonde hair whose hobbies consist of things such as dancing, bicycling, gaming, painting her nails, and throwing/attending slumber parties. As for her everyday attire; she doesn't wear a pink tutu and ballet shoes everywhere she goes contrary to popular belief. She mostly just wears those when she does ballet, which she took up due to her love of dancing. But outside of ballet however, she is often seen wearing tank tops with jeans and flip-flops; her most common attire being a pink and blue striped tank top with dark blue jeans and pink flip flops. One thing worth mentioning about Izzy is that she LOVES showing off her feet to everyone, especially when her toes have nail polish on them! Blue nail polish is her favorite and to show off her feet, she wears flip-flops, which she has at least five pairs of but the pink ones she’s often seen in are her favorite. But if her feet were more durable like that of most monsters however, then she'd go everywhere with bare feet instead. The only thing Izzy likes more than wearing flip flops is wearing no footwear at all and she sure does a splendid job making everyone fully aware of that every time she announces that she's removing her footwear; saying things such as, "Get off my feet, flip flops!" and "Freedom… for my feet!" XD It's the first thing she does upon entering her house and/or others' houses; usually when arriving home from school or just after being outside in general. She's a funny little girl like that and a real cutie too. A real cutie! X3 One look at her and you wouldn't believe that she was one of six humans that had their souls taken from them in the Underground!
Another thing worth mentioning about Izzy is that she is Brad and Justin's cousin; Brad (Bravery) by adoption and Justin (Justice) by blood; and like her cousins, she was one of a handful of humans that was miraculously resurrected after the destruction of the Barrier one month ago. Also like her cousins, she was immediately adopted by rabbit monsters; in Izzy's case, Heidi, the former SNOWDIN INNKEEPER, and her husband, Harvey. After hearing so much about Izzy from Brad during the three months he spent as a member of her family in the Underground, Heidi dreamed of one day adopting Izzy if she had survived after being separated from Brad and Justin. Izzy was not fortunate enough to survive during her time in the Underground though, much to Heidi's devastation. But once Izzy was miraculously resurrected however, Heidi became overjoyed with happiness and immediately took her in as part of her own family; just like her sister, Harriet (the former Snowdin Shopkeeper), did with Brad and Justin.
Ever since last month, Izzy has been living happily with a family of rabbit monsters on the Surface and her new family members consist of adopted mother Heidi, adopted father Harvey, and 3 adopted siblings; an older brother named Bastian, a younger sister named Bekah (short for Rebekah), and a baby sister named Bebe; and over the course of just one month, Izzy managed to win all of their hearts; even the heart of one particular family member she wishes she could bond a little better with. Yes, in Izzy's new family, there's one family member that she hasn't properly bonded with yet; and that family member is her adopted brother, Bastian, who is four and half months older than her. Bastian, an 11-year-old rabbit monster with all-white fur, is the youngest student in Toriel's 6th grade class. He's a nice boy; getting along with almost everyone he interacts with; but is someone that has difficulty accepting major changes in his life. An example of this was when he and his family moved to the Surface a month ago. Bastian was one of the few monsters that didn’t want to move to the Surface after the Barrier was destroyed. But not just that though; he was also one of the few monsters that actually didn't mind living in the Underground; and during his time there, he often accompanied Heidi whenever she was running her inn. He loves his mother very much and is a bit of a mama's boy himself, which Heidi doesn't entirely mind. Heidi loves him back with all her heart and soul and if it wasn't for her patience, guidance, and kind and loving nature towards him, Bastian would not be the happy child he is today on the Surface. But not everything is perfect however. After moving to the Surface, Bastian has had difficulty making friends with human children, whom he doesn’t appear to realize aren’t all that different from monster children in terms of personality, and his cousin, Heather, Harriet's daughter and a lavender rabbit monster who is in the same grade as him, can only do so much to help him in that regard. So, that's where Izzy, a human girl, comes in. If Bastian can bond better with his adopted human sister, then there's a chance that Izzy might be able to help him feel more comfortable around humans as a whole; and Heidi believes that she knows just the thing that will help Izzy win him over. It can't hurt for Izzy to try, anyway. But unfortunately for her, she's going to have to wait until tomorrow since Bastian currently isn’t present in the house, which is connected to an all new Inn that Heidi runs for a living. Instead, Bastian is out with his father and sisters meeting his father’s new human friend, Elwood, who Izzy and Heidi have already met, and won't be back until tomorrow. That's right; the majority of Izzy's adopted family isn't home during this particular afternoon; nobody except for Izzy's adopted mother, Heidi, a thin 36-year-old female rabbit monster with pink fur and always bare 3-toed feet, who is often seen wearing sleeveless knee-length dresses; primarily a yellow one with 2 blue stripes (one at the top around her neck and one in the middle around the waist). X3 Not that Izzy minds. She loves her adopted mother very much and this afternoon will provide her a perfect opportunity to ask her what she can do to bond better with Bastian.
4:00pm, Friday, early November...
Heidi: Ah. Good to be home. *said Heidi to herself as she entered her home; from one of the side entrances (the one that leads to her inn)* Hmm… Is Izzy here?
Not even one second later, Heidi's question was answered the moment she saw Izzy's pink flip flops on the floor near the front entrance, indicating that Izzy was barefoot somewhere in the house.
Heidi: (Heeheeheeheehee. She most certainly is.) Izzy! *shouted Heidi, seconds before hearing a little girl's voice in her living room*
Izzy: In here, Mom! I'd come out and give you a hug but my toenails need to dry first.
At this very moment, Izzy is sitting on a couch; in an upright position on the middle cushion; in the living room watching television with her bare feet resting on a footrest, which Izzy covered with a towel before she began painting her toenails.
Heidi: Heeheeheeheehee. Oh, Izzy; painting your nails again? *asked Heidi with a smile as she walked into the living room to greet her adopted daughter* Didn't you paint them last night, sweetie?
Izzy: Heeheehee. Yeah; my fingernails! A while ago, I painted my toenails! Heeheeheeheeheehee! Aren’t they pretty? *Izzy asked cheekily while wiggling each of her ten little toes slightly; being careful not to ruin her nail polish while it was drying* Heeheeheeheeheehee~!
Heidi: Heeheeheehee! They most certainly are! Pretty just like you! *answered Heidi, pinching Izzy’s left cheek*
Izzy: Heeheeheeheehee! Mooooooooom! Heeheeheeheeheehee~!
Heidi: Heeheeheeheeheehee! Oh, you know you love it. Heeheeheeheehee! So, what would you like to do tonight, my dear? We have the house all to ourselves. Any ideas?
Izzy: Yes, actually. I was thinking that maybe we could chat a little. There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.
Heidi: Oh? And what would that be, my dear?
Izzy: Well, first off, I just want to say how grateful I am to be part of this family. You’ve all been so wonderful to me… and Justin and Brad; you, Dad, Bastian, Bekah, Bebe, Aunt Harriet, Benny, Robbie, and Heather; all of you. We couldn’t ask for better adopted families. *stated Izzy sincerely, causing Heidi to tear up a little and hug her*
Heidi: Oh, Izzy. *sniffles* The pleasure is all ours; and we all love you kids very, very much.
Izzy: Awww! And we love you, Mom. …Oh, but I just wish I could bond better with Bastian though! After one month, I’m still not entirely sure that he loves me the way you, Dad, Bekah, and Bebe all do!
Heidi: *shocked gasp* Oh, Izzy; please don’t ever say things like that! Of course Bastian loves you the way your father, sisters, and I do! *assured Heidi, shocked after hearing what Izzy just told her*
Izzy: A-are you sure? *asked Izzy, somewhat doubting Heidi*
Heidi: Of course I’m sure! I know that boy better than anyone else! Just give him some more time, all right? He’ll come around.
Izzy: But what if he never does though? Mom, there has to be something I can do to get him to like me more! There just has to be! *shouted Izzy, tearing up a little, which in turn made Heidi stop acting so defensive*
Heidi: Hmm… Well, there is one thing that might work, sweetie; actually 3 things.
Izzy: *excited gasp* There are?! Really?! Oh my gosh! Could you tell me, please? I’ve been trying to figure out this mystery for a month! An entire month!
Izzy is feeling rather insecure about herself this afternoon. It's not like her to feel so insecure but who can blame her? Bastian is her adopted brother and he's never himself whenever he interacts with her! Around Harvey, Bekah, Bebe, and especially Heidi, he's very enthusiastic and quite the joy to be around! And pretty funny too; telling jokes and pulling harmless pranks on others; all with a big smile on his face! "Why doesn't he act that way around me?" Izzy often wonders to herself. It could be because he's shy around Izzy. It could be because he's still having a difficult time adjusting to having an adopted sister that isn't the same species as him. Who knows? But whatever the case is, it doesn't stop Izzy from wondering what she can do to fully earn his trust and after one month, Heidi feels that it's finally time to suggest something that might just do the trick. To earn Bastian's trust, Heidi feels that Izzy should TICKLE HIM. Lots! If there's one thing that Bastian loves almost as much as his own family, it's being tickled; and the spot he always wants to receive the most attention is his feet; his white, always bare three-toed feet. He absolutely loves having his feet touched despite how immensely ticklish they are and no matter how much someone tickles them, he won't ever beg them to stop; provided that whoever's tickling him is doing so with good intentions of course. But tickling alone might not be enough to fully earn Bastian's trust though. To really seal the deal, Heidi believes that Izzy should also pet him and consistently tell him that he's cute, which will be easy for Izzy to do since cute is exactly what Bastian is and that she used to have a pet rabbit when she was younger. X3
Izzy: R-really?! That's all?! *asked Izzy all surprised* I wanted to do all three of those things the moment I saw him! But I didn't because I felt that it would’ve been inappropriate… you know, due to my… condition. *she added, referring to her tragic past and miraculous resurrection*
Heidi: Oh, I feel you, my dear. That also happens to be why I didn't suggest that you do those things sooner. I wanted to give you enough time to adjust to your new life here on the Surface with us.
Izzy: And I appreciate that you did too! Thank you!
Heidi: Heeheeheehee. Of course, my dear. *said Heidi lovingly, giving Izzy a kiss on her left cheek*
Izzy: Heeheeheeheeheehee! *Izzy giggled in response*
Heidi: ...So, Izzy, now that you've taken some time to get to know us, I have to ask… are you ticklish yourself? *asked Heidi cheekily, causing Izzy to perk up*
Izzy: *excited gasp* Oh my gosh, yes! Yes, Mom! I am sooooo ticklish! Heeheeheeheeheehee! Oh my gosh! Heeheeheeheeheehee! I'm giggling just thinking about it! Heeheeheeheeheeheehee!
Heidi: Heeheeheeheehee! You are, indeed. And do you like being tickled?
Izzy: Heeheeheeheehee! Maaaaaaaybe! *answered Izzy, teasing Heidi and wiggling her toes slightly in anticipation* Heeheeheeheeheehee~!
Heidi: Heeheeheeheehee! Well that sounds like a yes to me! Brad told me you did but I wanted to hear it from you.
Izzy: Heeheeheehee! Oh he did, did he? *Izzy then asked, feeling nervous all of a sudden*
Heidi: Heeheeheeheehee! Oh, yes. There's lots of things he told me about your ticklishness when he lived in the Underground with us; such as where to tickle to REALLY get you squealing!
Izzy: Eep! Oh my gosh; that little devil! *Izzy shouted in response, pretending to be offended* Well, I can tell you right now that I am most certainly going to punish him sometime for telling you about that! *she added, implying that she will tickle torture Brad sometime; playfully*
Heidi: Heeheeheehee! I bet you will! But can you blame him? *asked Heidi, placing her right hand on Izzy's stomach* You're an incredibly adorable little girl; and I bet you have some of the absolute cutest reactions to tickles in the entire world. *she added, seconds before lightly scribbling her fingers against Izzy's stomach on the outside of her tank top*
Izzy: EEEEEEEEEEEEEEK! *Izzy squealed, taken completely by surprise* HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! *she then laughed adorably, quivering her stomach with every passing second* MOHOHOHOM! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! JUST WHAHAHAT DO YOU THINK YOHOHOHOU'RE DOOHOOHOOING THERE, MOHOHOHOM?! *SQUEAK* HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!
Heidi: (*gasp of delight* Oh my g-god! Her reactions are even cuter than I thought! X3) Heeheeheeheehee! Why, I'm tickling you, of course! *Heidi answered with a giggle, right before ending her ticklish assault on Izzy for the time being* Heeheeheehee! And I would very much enjoy doing so some more after your nails dry and after we eat some dinner together; if that's ok with you, Izzy.
Izzy: Heeheeheeheeheehee! Silly rabbit! Of course it is! Heeheeheeheeheehee!
Heidi: Heeheeheehee! Fantabulous, my dear! Heeheeheeheehee!
Heidi is very pleased to find out that what Brad has told her about Izzy's ticklishness is true so far and that she will be tickling Izzy again real soon. From the moment she heard that Izzy was ticklish, how ticklish she is, and that she loves being tickled, Heidi dreamed of one day tickling Izzy herself if she ever met her in person and now that she finally has an opportunity to do so and now that she feels that she's waited long enough, she's going to be sure to take full advantage of it! Plus, it'll be a nice little warm-up for Izzy before tomorrow; because if she tickles Bastian and does a great job of it, then it's very likely that he's going to want to tickle her back. Hehe. ;)
TO BE CONTINUED...
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@illtakeyourthrone there’s not enough angst in our lives
She’s been avoiding him since the event had happened. Hiding away at the academy, always conveniently out when Harvey came by to talk. It’s nearly been a week since she’s seen him, since she let her deepest secret spill out between them. Sabrina hadn’t meant to let the words slip out, especially when things had been going so well between them. But old habits die hard, and she couldn’t help the way she felt when he had hugged her close on the front steps. When she had impulsively pressed her lips into his again, after denying any feelings for him.
Sabrina had let it slipped out, that she still had feelings…that she still loved him, which came out after she had stolen another kiss.
The truth hurts. And boy did she know it. She had practically yelled at Harvey that the truth hurt, that it was painful to watch him move on when she felt like she hadn’t. That she was somehow still waiting. Harvey knew it too. He made it clear when he strained to speak. Overcome with conflicting emotions. “Don’t tell me truth hurts, because it hurts like hell” He wasn’t trying to yell, but his voice made her quiver and flee the scene. How could they face one another when they were so clearly on different sides of the river?
Sabrina hadn’t even though to spell Harvey, and instead left him on the front steps with more questions than answers. That was the last time she had seen him, had even talked to him. How could she recover from that? Explain the actions that had transpired between them?
She wasn’t sure if it was Ambrose who had tipped Harvey off or Nick, but neither were on her good terms right now. There he sat, staring up at her as she had attempted to sneak away once again. For once, with all her power and knowledge she felt trapped. She felt more human in that instance than all her life. Perhaps more so because she had to face the reality of the situation. He wasn’t hers, and she had crossed a boundary between them.
“I can’t do this right now, Harvey” She tries to pass him, but his hand catches her wrist and holds her to the steps. “”Brina, please” He pleads, and her walls feel like they are crumbling when he continues “We need to talk.”
He manages to get a hold of Sabrina’s loose academy schedule so he was home when she arrived. It is certainly more handy for her to travel around these days in swirls of fire teleportation than walking everywhere. Harvey himself opted not to drive the old farm truck here. He walked instead, trying to sort out what he was going to say -- as though he hadn’t tossed and turned in bed all night figuring it out then either. Arriving half an hour early before her class with Hilda is due to conclude he waits on the porch with Salem for company.
He misses the days when they didn’t fight. Funny, how he misses the days when she lied to him every second. It’s what he referenced in shouting the truth hurt like hell. The truth broke his heart. Her admittance of lying to him wasn’t even the first truth to do so. Your mother isn’t going to get better, the doctors said when he was six. There’s no way we can get to the men trapped down there, firefighters apologized after the mine collapse.
The panic he dreads seeing on her face appears as soon as she does and spots him, but thankfully Sabrina opts for ducking into her home than transporting somewhere else. “You can’t do this right now or you won’t do this?” It’s rhetorical not challenging. He releases her wrist so she doesn’t feel like a prisoner. “I’m not . . . I’m not with Roz anymore.”
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What song makes you feel better?what’s your favorite candle scent?what flower would you like to be given?say three nice things about yourself (three physical and three non-physical).what calms you down?what’s your ideal date?how are you?what’s your comfort food?do you still love stuffed animals?what’s something you do to de-stress?hugs or hand-holding?morning, afternoon or night?what reminds you of home (doesn’t have to mean house… just things that remind you of the feeling of home)? [for mun
What song makes you feel better?
Ooo, this really depends on a lot of stuff. But weirdly, one song I go to a lot is Tubthumping by Chumbawumba. The names really tell you the vibe of the song >w>' it's silly- too silly to really take much seriously when you're listening to it, so it gradually cheers me up that way. But it's mostly the chorus bit that does it.
"I get knocked down, but I get up again! You are never gonna keep me down!"
Repeated over and over again with pride and happiness like a football chant.
It's the kind of mood that's just infectious, it's a crowd celebrating something, enjoying where and who they are. Pair that with the message in those lines, and, I dunno. It just really helps me~
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what’s your favorite candle scent?
Oh this one is tough. My sense of smell isn't that great, usually I can smell a candle if I pick it up and sniff it, but when it's lit I don't tend to smell anything. There are very few candles I can light and smell in the room. So I tend to just pick candles based on colour tbh x'D
One thing I do love though is oil diffusers. A few drops of violet essential oil in the water, it comes out as steam, makes the place smell really nice.
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What flower would you like to be given?
Aww, that's a cute one~ I'd love to be given any flower really, but if I have to pick... I'd say a sunflower. I think it'd be really funny to have someone pull this giant flower from behind their back and hand it over. X')
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Say three nice things about yourself (three physical and three non-physical).
That's six! You can't fool me there >w> buuuuut fine.
Physical: I like my eye colour, I've got a general hourglass shape that I like, and I'm told I have very comfortable shoulders to lean on? Haha
Non-physical: I'm fairly intelligent, have a lot of patience when I need it, and I'm pretty weird, which is often funny for other people x')
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What calms you down?
If I'm anxious, I have a few apps on my phone I can use that usually help. 'What's Up' is a great one, it has different tools you can use like grounding exercises and retargeting your thoughts and stuff. I also have games on there like Zen Koi and Alto's Odyssey, which I find relaxing. They're not too complicated to manage but they do grab my attention and have chill music on them.
If I'm calming down from being angry.... Dogs. I find if a dog comes up to me for a hug or something, I have to relax my muscles more, I have to be gentle with them and reassure them that it's all okay, it's like a conscious effort I make for their sake. So it puts a stop to my stressing out long enough for me to just start enjoying the fact that I have a dog. ^^
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What’s your ideal date?
Ooo good question...
At the minute I can't really date at all with my health being this bad, so I'd probably go for a casual date where we play a low-pressure game together at home. I'm talking battleship, tetris, any Super Mario game that has a multiplayer feature, Snipperclips, Jenga, Wii tennis, anything. Just us chilling, having a little bit of playful rivalry maybe, a few healthy snacks~ that would be awesome. Some of these games we could even play from two separate places with a video call going, which would mean I wouldn't have to push myself to host or leave the house or even force myself to shower in advance; I could even stay in bed and just prop myself up with some pillows if I really needed to, take a laptop and we could go play something online maybe.
In the future though (because I really hope I'll improve eventually and get some of my life back) I'd still love the more casual fun dates, but not stuck inside. I'd love to go minigolfing and be terrible at it so we can both laugh at my awful shots, and I'll do some hopeless ironic trash talk and then lose by a mile~
I'd like to have a dog we can walk together. We could go to a quiet beach, which will probably be cold and muddy because it's England but we'll let the dog loose and smile at how much fun they're having, maybe play fetch or something, and then at the end be so so grateful that we thought to put old towels over the back seats of the car for our very very happy, very very very wet dog~
It'd be fun to go to a theme park together, or walk around a garden centre and plan out a garden we'll probably never get around to. Or a zoo! That'd be a great date place, a zoo, or SeaWorld, both are good.
I'd like to go for ice cream and sit on some random grassy bank to eat it together. To go to an art gallery with a camera and most of my photos would just be of my date seeing something she likes~ maybe I could even take a sketchbook too, and I could draw her in the styles and/or poses of whichever pieces she wants me to, while she poses in ridiculous funny ways and makes me laugh so much that I have to stop and then we move to the next room.
I've been too ill for too long and had so much emotional crap in my life, I wouldn't choose the rigid restaurant dates with all the same rules and the pressure, or strive to try and be the most romantic couple or whatever else.
For me, what I'd value most is being able to get out of the house and enjoy the world, and having a date with a light-hearted atmosphere.
_
How are you?
Tired as always! X') but for real, today has actually been okay. The last few days have been really rough pain-wise, but it hasn't been quite as bad today, so hopefully it'll ease off back to normal from here~ I've also been pretty productive in the last two days so I'm very happy with myself rn ^^
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What’s your comfort food?
I have a couple! Chocolate, of course, is a classic one (chocolate peanuts in particular are something I reach for for comfort). And also, a hot pasta-based meal like lasagna or, heck just pasta in a nice sauce will do. Those meals are more like the comfort of being warm and homely, the kind of thing I might love if I were really tired and feeling sorry for myself, while chocolate peanuts are the "I'm upset so I'm eating my feelings" food. X')
_
Do you still love stuffed animals?
Of course! I don't have tons all over my bed purely because it's inconvenient, but I do keep two huge ones- a dog and a shark- on top of my wardrobe, and my littlest childhood friend is always in my room somewhere~
His name is Scruffy, and right now he's sleeping in my crystal box (open) on top of all the empty velvet bags. ^^ I used to take him everywhere, cuddle him every night as a slept.. he usually smelled pretty gross because I never wanted to give him up to be washed, haha X) thankfully he doesn't have that problem now~
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What’s something you do to de-stress?
This might sound lame but, jigsaw puzzles. It has to be real ones, at the table with some music in my headphones. If I can't do that for whatever reason, I go to the bathroom and run cold water over my wrists for a minute or two, over the veiny side. It's kind of a mini cleansing ritual. I sometimes combine that with some deep breaths and imagine the water is literally washing the stress out of me, and it really does help. It's something I can do quickly and easily, I can just do it while or after washing my hands or something and that's that~
_
Hugs or hand-holding?
Hmm... prolonged, I'm not a huge fan of either? Eventually if you're holding hands it's like, when do you let go? What if your hand gets warm and clammy, or sweaty? Same with like a cuddle. Once you're in it, how do you say "hey I'm kind of uncomfortable now, this physical contact has gone on too long"? You don't want to be rude, and it might be hard to explain, so you've probably got to blame on being too warm even if you're not, and then that's a lie, and.. it's just awkward.
A regular hug though, that's okay. It can last longer than usual and still not be a problem, because at least, you know, you won't be hugging for half an hour, at some point soon you'll let go. And it feels nice, you know? From someone I care about and trust anyway~ it's like a physical way of saying "I love you" and it's nice to have someone's arms holding you, to wrap yours around them and just hold them tight.. you both feel warm inside and secure and wanted. I wouldn't be keen on a hug from a stranger or an acquaintance, even a new-ish friend. But someone who's close to me? All the hugs. Give me the hugs, let me hug you back, many many hugs. X)
_
Morning, afternoon or night?
Night! Actually I love those really early mornings, you know when the air still has that kind of... Crispness to it. That is amazing. But I'm never awake for that anymore.
(^▽ ^;)ゞ
_
What reminds you of home?
Thunderstorms, loud planes overhead, chinook noises, soft hugs when I'm upset, mum's cooking, pictures of our old dog Harvey, little fluffy dogs running about.
Most of this is easy to figure out I'm sure, but I do want to talk about the first couple.
Until the age of 11 my family lived on a military air base, so there were always big planes taking off and landing, and I really do mean always. We learned the difference between some of them by sound. I could be sat at home and we'd hear one and know, that had to be a Herc landing (landing always sounded different to taking off), or a teacher would have to stop talking at school to let one go by, and everyone knew that one was a VC10. (VC10s are the LOUDEST thing I have ever heard to this day. I'd probably still recognise one now~)
We also saw and heard Chinooks a lot. Now for anyone who doesn't know, those are the weird helicopters that have two... Fan parts? I don't actually know what they're called. X') (I looked it up, they're called rotors!) They kinda look like the bit of a retro telephone that you'd pick up and hold to your face.
Now having two rotors means that they can carry a Lot of weight, but it also means they don't sound like normal helicopters do. The two rotors are timed out so that the blades from each side can go through the same middle space without hitting each other, Left blade then right blade then left then right then left, and you can kind of hear it happening. Instead of the kind of 'Wubbubbubbubbubbub' of normal helicopters, a chinook sounds more like 'Wokka wokka wokka wokka'.
Where I am now, we only hear some small jets once a week at most when they take practice flights, and sometimes a normal police or ambulance helicopter. It took me a long time to get used to the quiet of most places, and sometimes I miss all the overhead noise we had back then.
And we got so many thunderstorms! Every single summer, usually at night. Now that I think about it the pollution from all the aircraft might have been involved in this too. >w>" But I loved it. We'd all gather in mum's room and open the curtains wide to watch. My little sister was scared of thunder back then so it was better for her to have people around and to make it fun. I was always just excited! And I still get that way if I hear thunder now~
#wow this is a long post#i actually fell asleep a couple questions from the end#ive just finished it off this morning#haha#ooc#mun stuff#asimplerper
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New Library Material December 2019 - April 2020
Bibliography
Sorted by Call Number / Author.
155.9 T
Turkle, Sherry. Life on the screen : identity in the age of the Internet. New York, NY : Simon & Schuster, c. 1995.
Introduction : identity in the age of the Internet -- pt. 1. The seductions of the interface -- A tale of two aesthetics -- The triumph of tinkering -- pt. 2. Of dreams and beasts -- Making a pass at a robot -- Taking things at interface value -- The quality of emergence -- Artificial life as the new frontier -- pt. 3. On the Internet -- Aspects of the self -- TinySex and gender trouble -- Virtuality and its discontents -- Identity crisis.
230 L
Lewis, C. S. (Clive Staples), 1898-1963, author. The C.S. Lewis signature classics. First Harpercollins Paperback Edition published 2001.
Set contains 8 vols: 1)Mere Christianity; 2)The Screwtape Letters; 3)Miracles; 4)A Grief Observed; 5)The Great Divorce; 6)The Problem of Pain; 7)The Abolition of Man; 8)The Four Loves.
302 G
Gladwell, Malcolm, 1963- author. Talking to strangers : what we should know about the people we don't know. First edition.
Introduction : "Step out of the car!" -- Part I. Spies and diplomats : two puzzles. Fidel Castro's revenge ; Getting to know der Führer -- Part II. Default to truth. The queen of Cuba ; The holy fool ; Case study : The boy in the shower -- Part III. Transparency. The Friends fallacy ; A (short) explanation of the Amanda Knox case ; Case study : The fraternity party -- Part IV. Lessons. KSM : what happens when the stranger is a terrorist? -- Part V. Coupling. Sylvia Plath ; Case study : The Kansas City experiments ; Sandra Bland. In this thoughtful treatise spurred by the 2015 death of African-American academic Sandra Bland in jail after a traffic stop, New Yorker writer Gladwell (The Tipping Point) aims to figure out the strategies people use to assess strangers-to "analyze, critique them, figure out where they came from, figure out how to fix them," in other words: to understand how to balance trust and safety. He uses a variety of examples from history and recent headlines to illustrate that people size up the motivations, emotions, and trustworthiness of those they don't know both wrongly and with misplaced confidence.
305.42 G
Gates, Melinda, 1964- author. The moment of lift : how empowering women changes the world.
Introduction -- The lift of a great idea -- Empowering mothers: maternal and newborn health -- Every good thing: family planning -- Lifting their eyes: girls in schools -- The silent inequality: unpaid work -- When a girl has no voice: child marriage -- Seeing gender bias: women in agriculture -- Creating a new culture: women in the workplace -- Let your heart break: the lift of coming together -- Epilogue.
306.3 A
Anderson, S. E. (Sam E.). The Black holocaust for beginners. Reprint ed. Danbury, CT : For Beginners LLC, c1995.
306.36 H
Hurston, Zora Neale, author. Barracoon : the story of the last "black cargo" First edition.
Foreword : Those who love us never leave us alone with our grief: reading Barracoon: the story of the last "black cargo" / by Alice Walker -- Introduction -- Barracoon : Preface -- Introduction -- The king arrives -- Barracoon -- Slavery -- Freedom -- Marriage -- Kossula learns about law -- Alone -- Appendix : Takkoi or Attako: children's game ; Stories Kossula told me ; The monkey and the camel ; Story of de Jonah ; Now disa Abraham fadda de faitful ; The lion woman -- Afterword and additional materials / edited by Deborah G. Plant -- Founders and original residents of Africatown -- Glossary. "In 1927, Zora Neale Hurston went to Plateau, Alabama, just outside Mobile, to interview eighty-six-year-old Cudjo Lewis. Of the millions of men, women, and children transported from Africa to America as slaves, Cudjo was then the only person alive to tell the story of this integral part of the nation's history. Hurston was there to record Cudjo's firsthand account of the raid that led to his capture and bondage fifty years after the Atlantic slave trade was outlawed in the United States. In 1931, Hurston returned to Plateau, the African-centric community three miles from Mobile founded by Cudjo and other former slaves from his ship. Spending more than three months there, she talked in depth with Cudjo about the details of his life. During those weeks, the young writer and the elderly formerly enslaved man ate peaches and watermelon that grew in the backyard and talked about Cudjo's past--memories from his childhood in Africa, the horrors of being captured and held in a barracoon for selection by American slavers, the harrowing experience of the Middle Passage packed with more than 100 other souls aboard the Clotilda, and the years he spent in slavery until the end of the Civil War. Based on those interviews, featuring Cudjo's unique vernacular, and written from Hurston's perspective with the compassion and singular style that have made her one of the preeminent American authors of the twentieth-century, Barracoon masterfully illustrates the tragedy of slavery and of one life forever defined by it. Offering insight into the pernicious legacy that continues to haunt us all, black and white, this poignant and powerful work is an invaluable contribution to our shared history and culture."--Publisher's website.
342.73 C
The Founding Fathers & Paul B. Skousen. The Constitution & The Declaration of Independence. Salt Lake City, UT : Izzardink, 2016; 2017.
342.73 P
The Know your Bill of Rights book. First edition. United States : Oculus Publishers, Inc, 2013.
364.1 H
Hate crimes.
1. Hate as part of society : -- Defining hate -- What we investigate -- FBI releases 2018 hate crime statistics -- Learn more about hate crimes -- The U.S. finally made lynching a Federal crime -- Hate-crime violence its 16-year high, FBI reports -- Mail bombs, hate crimes, and he meaning of terrorism -- 2. Causes and responses : -- Entering an era of rising hate crimes -- Trump and racism: what do the data say? -- American Islamophobia in the age of Trump: the global war on terror, continued? -- Steve Scalise: don't blame Trump for mass shootings -- Did counties hosting a Trump rally in 2016 see a 226% spike in hate crimes? -- "We need to evolve": police get help to improve hate crime tracking -- The FBI's new approach to combating domestic terrorism: straight talk -- Congressman Serrano and Senator Casey introduce the Stop Hate Act to address the rise in hate crimes through social media -- 3. Hate laws and the Constitution : -- The limits of Free Speech -- Is the cure of censorship better than the disease of hate speech? -- The limits of Free Speech for White Supremacists marching at the Unite the Right 2, explained -- Hate speech and hate crime -- the El Paso shooting revived the Free Speech debate. Europe has limits -- Portland considers Antimask Law aimed at Antifa violence -- Free Speech can be messy, but we need it -- Should we treat domestic terrorists the way we treat ISIS? -- 4. Prevention, outreach, and training : -- Schools as safe places for learning -- Hate crime in America policy summit -- Hate in schools: an in-depth look -- Political correctness and anti-Jewish bias mar first draft of California's Ethnic Studies curriculum -- Justice Department commemorates 10th anniversary of Matthew Shepard and James Byrd, Jr., Hate Crimes Prevention Act -- 5. The role of the media and big tech : -- The connected society -- How Journalists cover mass shootings: research to consider -- In Congressional hearing on hate, the haters got their way -- A campus murder tests Facebook clicks as evidence of hate -- The media botched the Covington Catholic story -- Hate speech on social media: global comparisons -- How Big Tech can fight White Supremacist terrorism: it has the tools- it just needs to use them.
364.15 K
Kantor, Jodi, 1975- author. She said : breaking the sexual harassment story that helped ignite a movement.
The first phone call -- Hollywood secrets -- How to silence a victim -- "Positive reputation management" -- A company's complicity -- "Who else is on the record?" -- "There will be a movement" -- The beachside dilemma -- "I can't guarantee I'll go to DC" -- Epilogue: The gathering. For many years, reporters had tried to get to the truth about Harvey Weinstein's treatment of women. Rumors of wrongdoing had long circulated. But in 2017, when Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey began their investigation into the prominent Hollywood producer for the New York Times, his name was still synonymous with power. During months of confidential interviews with top actresses, former Weinstein employees, and other sources, many disturbing and long-buried allegations were unearthed, and a web of onerous secret payouts and nondisclosure agreements was revealed. These shadowy settlements had long been used to hide sexual harassment and abuse, but with a breakthrough reporting technique Kantor and Twohey helped to expose it. But Weinstein had evaded scrutiny in the past, and he was not going down without a fight. He employed a team of high-profile lawyers, private investigators, and other allies to thwart the investigation. When Kantor and Twohey were finally able to convince some sources to go on the record, a dramatic final showdown between Weinstein and the New York Times was set in motion. Nothing could have prepared Kantor and Twohey for what followed the publication of their initial Weinstein story on October 5, 2017. Within days, a veritable Pandora's box of sexual harassment and abuse was opened. Women all over the world came forward with their own traumatic stories. Over the next twelve months, hundreds of men from every walk of life and industry were outed following allegations of wrongdoing. But did too much change -- or not enough? Those questions hung in the air months later as Brett Kavanaugh was nominated to the Supreme Court, and Christine Blasey Ford came forward to testify that he had assaulted her decades earlier. Kantor and Twohey, who had unique access to Ford and her team, bring to light the odyssey that led her to come forward, the overwhelming forces that came to bear on her, and what happened after she shared her allegation with the world.
512 A
Lead authors: John A. Carter, Ph.D., Gilbert J. Cuevas,Ph.D., Roger Day, Ph.D., NBCT, Carol Malloy, Ph.D.; Program Authors: Dr. Berchie Holliday, Ed.D., Ruth Casey, Dinah Zike, Jay McTighe; Lead Consultant: Viken Hovsepian. Algebra 2. Glencoe/McGraw-Hill Education, 2012. Columbus, OH : McGraw-Hill Companies, c. 2012.
612 B
Bryson, Bill, author. The body : a guide for occupants. First U.S. edition.
How to build a human -- The outside: skin and hair -- Microbial you -- The brain -- The head -- Down the hatch: the mouth and throat -- The heart and blood -- The chemistry department -- In the dissecting room: the skeleton -- On the move: bipedalism and exercise -- Equilibrium -- The immune system -- Deep breath: the lungs and breathing -- Food, glorious food -- The guts -- Sleep -- Into the nether regions -- In the beginning: conception and birth -- Nerves and pain -- When things go wrong: diseases -- Then things go very wrong: cancer -- Medicine good and bad -- The end. "Bill Bryson, bestselling author of A Short History of Nearly Everything, takes us on a head-to-toe tour of the marvel that is the human body. As compulsively readable as it is comprehensive, this is Bryson at his very best, a must-read owner's manual for everybody. Bill Bryson once again proves himself to be an incomparable companion as he guides us through the human body--how it functions, its remarkable ability to heal itself, and (unfortunately) the ways it can fail. Full of extraordinary facts (your body made a million red blood cells since you started reading this) and irresistible Bryson-esque anecdotes, The Body will lead you to a deeper understanding of the miracle that is life in general and you in particular. As Bill Bryson writes, "We pass our existence within this wobble of flesh and yet take it almost entirely for granted." The Body will cure that indifference with generous doses of wondrous, compulsively readable facts and information"--. "From the bestselling author of A SHORT HISTORY OF NEARLY EVERYTHING, a head-to-toe tour of the marvel that is the human body"--.
801.95092
Barish, Evelyn, 1935-. The double life of Paul de Man. First Edition.
812.54 K
Kushner, Tony. Angels in America : Part One and Two. 2007. London : Nick Hern Books, 2007. Reprinted 2015.
pt. 1. Millennium approaches -- pt. 2. Perestroika.
812.54 W
Williams, Tennessee, 1911-1983. The glass menagerie. New Directions Book. New York, NY : New Directions Publishing, 1999.
The embattled Wingfield family: Amanda, a faded southern belle, abandoned wife, dominating mother, who hopes to match her daughter with an eligible "gentleman caller;" Laura, a lame and painfully shy, she evades her mother's schemes and reality by retreating to a world of make-believe; Tom's sole support of the family, he eventually leaves home to become a writer but is forever haunted by the memory of Laura. The only single edition now available of this American classic about a mother obsessed with her disabled daughter.
812.6 B
Barron, Clare, author. Baby screams miracle.
A freak storm knocks down all the trees in town and brings a prodigal daughter rushing home. But has she come for reconciliation? Or as an angel of vengeance? A comic new play about love, forgiveness and family struggling to operate in a relentlessly chaotic and violent world.
812.6 D
DeLappe, Sarah, author. The wolves : a play. 1st ed.
"The Wolves follows nine teenage girls as they warm up for their indoor soccer games. From the safety of their suburban stretch circle, the team navigates big questions and wages tiny battles with all the vim and vigor of a pack of adolescent warriors. As the teammates warm up in sync, a symphony of overlapping dialogue spills out their concerns. By season's and play's end, amidst the wins and losses, rivalries and tragedies, they are tested and ready--they are The Wolves." -- Back cover.
822.914 B
Butterworth, Jez, author. The ferryman. Revised edition.
Rural County Armagh, Ireland, 1981. The Carney farmhouse is a hive of activity with preparations for the annual harvest. A day of hard work on the land and a traditional night of feasting and celebrations lie ahead. But this year they will be interrupted by a visitor.
940.54 L
Larson, Erik, 1954- author. The splendid and the vile. First edition.
Bleak Expectations -- The Rising Threat -- A Certain Eventuality -- Dread -- Blood and Dust -- The Americans -- Love Amid the Flames -- One Year to the Day -- Epilogue. "The #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Devil in the White City and Dead Wake delivers a fresh and compelling portrait of Winston Churchill and London during the Blitz On Winston Churchill's first day as prime minister, Hitler invaded Holland and Belgium. Poland and Czechoslovakia had already fallen, and the Dunkirk evacuation was just two weeks away. For the next twelve months, Hitler would wage a relentless bombing campaign, killing 45,000 Britons. It was up to Churchill to hold the country together and persuade President Franklin Roosevelt that Britain was a worthy ally-and willing to fight to the end. In The Splendid and the Vile, Erik Larson shows, in cinematic detail, how Churchill taught the British people "the art of being fearless." It is a story of political brinkmanship, but it's also an intimate domestic drama set against the backdrop of Churchill's prime-ministerial country home, Chequers; his wartime retreat, Ditchley, where he and his entourage go when the moon is brightest and the bombing threat is highest; and of course 10 Downing Street in London. Drawing on diaries, original archival documents, and once-secret intelligence reports-some released only recently-Larson provides a new lens on London's darkest year through the day-to-day experience of Churchill and his family: his wife, Clementine; their youngest daughter, Mary, who chafes against her parents' wartime protectiveness; their son, Randolph, and his beautiful, unhappy wife, Pamela; Pamela's illicit lover, a dashing American emissary; and the cadre of close advisers who comprised Churchill's "Secret Circle," including his lovestruck private secretary, John Colville; newspaper baron Lord Beaverbrook; and the Rasputin-like Frederick Lindemann. The Splendid and the Vile takes readers out of today's political dysfunction and back to a time of true leadership, when-in the face of unrelenting horror-Churchill's eloquence, courage, and perseverance bound a country, and a family, together."--.
940.54 P
Purnell, Sonia, author. A woman of no importance : the untold story of the American spy who helped win World War II.
The dream -- Cometh the hour -- My tart friends -- Good-bye to Dindy -- Twelve minutes, twelve men -- Honeycomb of spies -- Cruel mountain -- Agent most wanted -- Scores to settle -- Madonna of the mountains -- From the skies above -- The CIA years. "The never-before-told story of one woman's heroism that changed the course of the Second World War In 1942, the Gestapo sent out an urgent command across France: "She is the most dangerous of all Allied spies. We must find and destroy her." This spy was Virginia Hall, a young American woman--rejected from the foreign service because of her gender and her prosthetic leg--who talked her way into the spy organization dubbed Churchill's "ministry of ungentlemanly warfare," and, before the United States had even entered the war, became the first woman to deploy to occupied France. Virginia Hall was one of the greatest spies in American history, yet her story remains untold. Just as she did in Clementine, Sonia Purnell uncovers the captivating story of a powerful, influential, yet shockingly overlooked heroine of the Second World War. At a time when sending female secret agents into enemy territory was still strictly forbidden, Virginia Hall came to be known as the "Madonna of the Resistance," coordinating a network of spies to blow up bridges, report on German troop movements, arrange equipment drops for Resistance agents, and recruit and train guerilla fighters. Even as her face covered WANTED posters throughout Europe, Virginia refused order after order to evacuate. She finally escaped with her life in a grueling hike over the Pyrenees into Spain, her cover blown, and her associates all imprisoned or executed. But, adamant that she had "more lives to save," she dove back in as soon as she could, organizing forces to sabotage enemy lines and back up Allied forces landing on Normandy beaches. Told with Purnell's signature insight and novelistic panache, A Woman of No Importance is the breathtaking story of how one woman's fierce persistence helped win the war"--.
943.086 B
Bergen, Doris L., author. War and genocide : a concise history of the Holocaust. Barnes & Noble, 2007.
Preconditions : antisemitism, racism, and common prejudices in early-twentieth century Europe -- Leadership and will : Adolf Hitler, the National Socialist German Workers' Party, and Nazi ideology -- From revolution to routine : Nazi Germany, 1933-1938 -- Open aggression : in search of war, 1938-1939 -- Experiments in brutality, 1939-1940 : war against Poland and the so-called euthanasia program -- Expansion and systemization : exporting war and terror, 1940-1941 -- The peak years of killing: 1942 and 1943 -- Death throes and killing frenzies, 1944-1945.
946.9 H
Hatton, Barry, 1963- author. Queen of the sea : a history of Lisbon.
"Lisbon was almost somewhere else. Portuguese officials considered moving the city after it was devastated by what is believed to be the strongest earthquake ever to strike modern Europe, in 1755, followed by a tidal wave as high as a double-decker bus and a six-day inferno that turned sand into glass. Lisbon's charm is legendary, but its rich, 2,000-year history is not widely known. This single-volume history provides an unrivaled and intimate portrait of the city and an entertaining account of its colourful past. It reveals that in Roman times the city was more important than initially thought, possessing a large theatre and hippodrome. The 1147 Siege of Lisbon was a dramatic medieval battle that was a key part of the Iberian reconquista. As Portugal built an empire spanning four continents, its capital became a wealthy international bazaar. The Portuguese king's cort©·ge was led by a rhinoceros which was followed by five elephants in gold brocade, an Arabian horse and a jaguar. The Portuguese were the world's biggest slavers, and by the mid-16th century around 10 percent of the Lisbon's population was black, imbuing the city with an African flavour it has retained. Invasion by Napoleon's armies, and the assassination of a king and the establishment of a republic, also left their marks. The city's two bridges over the River Tagus illustrate the legacy of a 20th-century dictator and Portugal's new era in Europe."--Publisher's description.
955.05 I
Iran. Detroit : Greenhaven Press, 2006.
Presents all sides to several issues concerning Iran, including debates about global security, human rights, and nuclear weapons.
973.092
Chernow, Ron. Alexander Hamilton.
Prologue: The Oldest Revolutionary War Widow -- The Castaways -- Hurricane -- The Collegian -- The Pen and the Sword -- The Little Lion -- A Frenzy of Valor -- The Lovesick Colonel -- Glory -- Raging Billows -- A Grave, Silent, Strange Sort of Animal -- Ghosts -- August and Respectable Assembly -- Publius -- Putting the Machine in Motion -- Villainous Business -- Dr. Pangloss -- The First Town in America -- Of Avarice and Enterprise -- City of the Future -- Corrupt Squadrons -- Exposure -- Stabbed in the Dark -- Citizen Genet -- A Disagreeable Trade -- Seas of Blood -- The Wicked Insurgents of the West -- Sugar Plums and Toys -- Spare Cassius -- The Man in the Glass Bubble -- Flying Too Near the Sun -- An Instrument of Hell -- Reign of Witches -- Works Godly and Ungodly -- In an Evil Hour -- Gusts of Passion -- In a Very Belligerent Humor -- Deadlock -- A World Full of Folly -- Pamphlet Wars -- The Price of Truth -- A Despicable Opinion -- Fatal Errand -- The Melting Scene -- Epilogue: Eliza. Ron Chernow tells the story of a man who overcame all odds to shape, inspire, and scandalize the newborn America. Few figures in American history have been more hotly debated or more grossly misunderstood than Alexander Hamilton. Chernow's biography argues that the political and economic greatness of today's America is the result of Hamilton's countless sacrifices to champion ideas that were often wildly disputed during his time. Chernow here recounts Hamilton's turbulent life: an illegitimate, largely self-taught orphan from the Caribbean, he came out of nowhere to take America by storm, rising to become George Washington's aide-de-camp in the Continental Army, coauthoring The Federalist Papers, founding the Bank of New York, leading the Federalist Party, and becoming the first Treasury Secretary of the United States. Historians have long told the story of America's birth as the triumph of Jefferson's democratic ideals over the aristocratic intentions of Hamilton. Chernow presents an entirely different man, whose legendary ambitions were motivated not merely by self-interest but by passionate patriotism and a stubborn will to build the foundations of American prosperity and power. His is a Hamilton far more human than we've encountered before -- from his shame about his birth to his fiery aspirations, from his intimate relationships with childhood friends to his titanic feuds with Jefferson, Madison, Adams, Monroe, and Burr, and from his highly public affair with Maria Reynolds to his loving marriage to his loyal wife Eliza. And never before has there been a more vivid account of Hamilton's famous and mysterious death in a duel with Aaron Burr in July of 1804.
973.921 W
Wicker, Tom. Dwight D. Eisenhower. First edition. New York : Times Books, 2002.
An American hero at the close of World War II, General Dwight Eisenhower rode an enormous wave of popularity into the Oval Office seven years later. Though we may view the Eisenhower years through a hazy lens of 1950s nostalgia, historians consider his presidency one of the least successful. At home there was civil rights unrest, McCarthyism, and a deteriorating economy; internationally, the Cold War was deepening. But despite his tendency toward "brinksmanship," Ike would later be revered for "keeping the peace." Still, his actions and policies at the onset of his career, covered by Tom Wicker, would haunt Americans of future generations.
976.1 K
Kennedy, Peggy Wallace, author. The broken road.
The bridge -- In the beginning -- Romance in the air -- Coming home -- The race -- Into the darkness -- The broken road -- You got what you wanted -- The victory is ours -- 1963 -- Picture perfect -- A storm's a-comin' -- Success is to succeed -- Dynasty -- For you -- Stand up -- Things just change -- Buckle my shoes -- The book of lamentations -- 'Til death do us part -- In tents -- Testify, brother Wallace! -- Stepping down -- Benched -- The end of an era -- Doors -- Letters from Baghdad -- Back to the bridge. "From the daughter of one of America's most virulent segregationists, a memoir that reckons with her father George Wallace's legacy of hate -- and illuminates her journey towards redemption. Peggy Wallace Kennedy has been widely hailed as the 'symbol of racial reconciliation' (Washington Post). In the summer of 1963, though, she was just a young girl watching her father stand in a schoolhouse door as he tried to block two African-American students from entering the University of Alabama. This man, former governor of Alabama and presidential candidate George Wallace, was notorious for his hateful rhetoric and his political stunts. But he was also a larger-than-life father to young Peggy, who was taught to smile, sit straight, and not speak up as her father took to the political stage. At the end of his life, Wallace came to renounce his views, although he could never attempt to fully repair the damage he caused. But Peggy, after her own political awakening, dedicated her life to spreading the new Wallace message -- one of peace, penance, and compassion. In this powerful new memoir, Peggy looks back on the politics of her youth and attempts to reconcile her adored father with the man who coined the phrase 'Segregation now. Segregation tomorrow. Segregation forever.' Timely and timeless, The Broken Road speaks to change, atonement, activism, and racial reconciliation"--.
977 McC
McCullough, David G., author. The pioneers : the heroic story of the settlers who brought the American ideal west. First Simon & Schuster hardcover edition.
The Ohio country -- Forth to the wilderness -- Difficult times -- Havoc -- A new era commences -- The Burr conspiracy -- Adversities aplenty -- The cause of learning -- The travelers -- Journey's end. "Best-selling author David McCullough tells the story of the settlers who began America's migration west, overcoming almost-unimaginable hardships to build in the Ohio wilderness a town and a government that incorporated America's highest ideals"--.
92 O'Connor
Thomas, Evan, 1951- author. First : Sandra Day O'Connor.
Prologue -- Lazy B -- Stanford -- The golden couple -- Majority leader -- Arizona judge -- The President calls -- Inside the Marble Palace -- Scrutiny -- FWOTSC -- Cancer -- A woman's role -- Civil religion -- Bush v. Gore -- Affirmative action -- End game -- Labor of love. "Based on exclusive interviews and access to the Supreme Court archives, this is the intimate, inspiring, and authoritative biography of America's first female Justice, Sandra Day O'Connor--by New York Times bestselling author Evan Thomas. She was born in 1930 in El Paso and grew up on a cattle ranch in Arizona. At a time when women were expected to be homemakers, she set her sights on Stanford University. When she graduated near the top of her class at law school in 1952, no firm would even interview her. But Sandra Day O'Connor's story is that of a woman who repeatedly shattered glass ceilings--doing so with a blend of grace, wisdom, humor, understatement, and cowgirl toughness. She became the first-ever female majority leader of a state senate. As a judge on the Arizona State Court of Appeals, she stood up to corrupt lawyers and humanized the law. When she arrived at the Supreme Court, appointed by Reagan in 1981, she began a quarter-century tenure on the court, hearing cases that ultimately shaped American law. Diagnosed with cancer at fifty-eight, and caring for a husband with Alzheimer's, O'Connor endured every difficulty with grit and poise. Women and men today will be inspired by how to be first in your own life, how to know when to fight and when to walk away, through O'Connor's example. This is a remarkably vivid and personal portrait of a woman who loved her family and believed in serving her country, who, when she became the most powerful woman in America, built a bridge forward for the women who followed her"--. At a time when women were expected to be homemakers, Sandra Day O'Connor set her sights on Stanford University. When she graduated near the top of her class at law school in 1952, no firm would even interview her. She became the first-ever female majority leader of a state senate, a judge on the Arizona State Court of Appeals, and arrived at the Supreme Court in 1981 to begin a quarter-century tenure on the court. Thomas provides a vivid and personal portrait of a woman who loved her family, believed in serving her country, and built a bridge forward for the women who followed her. -- adapted from jacket.
ACT Manual
Stern, David Alan. Acting with an accent : a step-by-step approach to learning dialects. Lyndonville, VT : Dialect Accent Specialists, c1979-1987.
[v. 1.] Standard British -- [v. 2.] Cockney -- [v. 3.] New York City -- [v. 4.] American Southern -- [v. 5.] Irish -- [v. 6.] Scottish -- [v. 7.] Spanish -- [v. 8.] Italian -- [v. 9.] French -- [v. 10.] German -- [v. 11.] Russian -- [v. 12.] Yiddish -- [v. 13.] Texas -- [v. 14.] Boston -- [v. 15.] Down east New England -- 16. Upper class Massachusetts or "Kennedy-esque" -- [v. 17.] Chicago -- 18. Mid-west farm/ranch -- 19. Polish -- [v. 20.] Arabic -- [v. 21.] Farsi (Persian) -- [v. 22.] Norwegian & Swedish -- [v. 23.] West Indian & Black African -- [v. 24.] British north country -- [v. 25.] Australian. Step-by-step instruction and practice in learning to speak English in various domestic and foreign dialects.
DVD For
Forbidden Hollywood collection. Turner Classic Movies Archives. Burbank, CA : Turner Entertainment Company and Warner Brothers Entertainment Inc.
Disc 1: Other Men's Women; The Purchase Price. Disc 2: Frisco Jenny; Midnight Mary. Disc 3: Heroes for Sale; Wild Boys of the Road. Disc 4: Wild Bil: Hollywood Maverick; The Men Who Made the Movies: William A. Wellman. Other men's women: Grant Withers, Regis Toomey, Mary Astor, J. Farrell MacDonald. The purchase price: Barbara Stanwyck, George Brent, Lyle Talbot. Frisco Jenny: Ruth Chatterton, Louis Calhern. Midnight Mary: Loretta Young, Ricardo Cortez, Franchot Tone, Andy Devine. Heroes for sale: Richard Barthelmess, Aline MacMahon, Loretta Young, Gordon Westcott. Wild boys of the road: Frankie Darro, Dorothy Coonan, Rochelle Hudson, Edwin Phillips. Wild Bill: Hollywood maverick - narrator, Alec Baldwin. Disc 1: Other men's women: Bill and Jack are railroad men. When Bill comes to stay with Jack and his wife, Bill and Lily fall in love. Jack confronts Bill about his suspicions and the two fight, leaving Jack seriously injured. The purchase price: Joan Gordon is a singer tiring of her relationship with Eddie. She flees to North Dakota to become a mail-order bride. Happiness is threatened by her stubborn husband, a lecherous neighbor and the appearance of Eddie. Disc 2: Frisco Jenny: Jenny was orphaned by the 1906 earthquake and fire and has gone on to become the madame of a prosperous bawdy house. After putting her son up for adoption, he becomes a district attorney dedicated to closing down such houses. She kills an underling who wants her son dead and is now facing execution. Midnight Mary: A mistaken arrest, a prison term, and lack of employment leads to a young woman's involvement with gangsters. In a brothel she meets a wealthy lawyer who falls in love with her. He helps her turn her life around, but her past catches up with her. Now she is on trial for murder. Disc 3: Heroes for sale: A man stands up during a WWI battle and becomes a hero, but he doesn't get the credit. He becomes injuried and soon gets hooked on morphine, causing him to fall apart when he returns home. He eventually marries, but soon the Depression hits. Wild boys of the road: Tom and Ed are high school students whose parents, thanks to the Depression, have lost their jobs. Wanting to help make money, they set off on the rails looking for work. They finally end up in New York and Ed thinks he might have foud a job. Disc 4: Wild Bill: Explores the life and directorial times of William A. Wellman. The men who made the movies: Wellman shares many stories and speaks bluntly of the producers with who he has worked and describes his remarkable star-making and star-spotting abilities. He was responsible for helping actors win Oscars and discovered such notable actors as James Cagney and Gary Cooper.
DVD Gra
The grapes of wrath. [DVD version includes: commentary by Joseph McBride and Susan Shillinglaw; prologue from British version; Biography. Darryl F. Zanuck : twentieth century filmmaker; 3 drought reports from 1934 Movietone news newsreels; outtakes; still gallery; featurette entitled Roosevelt lauds motion pictures at Academy fete; restoration comparison; English and Spanish tracks and subtitles].
Henry Fonda (Tom Joad); Jane Darwell (Ma Joad); John Carradine (Casy); Charley Grapewin (grandpa); Dorris Bowdon (Rosasharn); Russell Simpson (Pa Joad); O.Z. Whitehead (Al); John Qualen (Muley); Eddie Quillan (Connie); Zeffie Tilbury (grandma); Frank Sully (Noah); Frank Darien (Uncle John); Darryl Hickman (Winfield); Shirley Mills (Ruth Joad); Roger Imhof (Thomas); Grant Mitchell (caretaker); Charles D. Brown (Wilkie); John Arledge (Davis); Ward Bond (policeman); Harry Tyler (Bert); William Pawley (Bill); Charles Tannen (Joe); Selmar Jackson (inspection officer); Charles Middleton (leader); Eddie Waller (proprietor); Paul Guilfoyle (Floyd); David Hughes (Frank); Cliff Clark (city man); Joseph Sawyer (bookkeeper); Frank Faylen (Tim); Adrian Morris (agent); Hollis Jewell (Muley's son); Robert Homans (Spencer); Irving Bacon (Roy); Kitty McHugh (Mae); Arthur Aylesworth (father); Norman Willis, Lee Shumway, Frank O'Connor, Tom Tyler, Harry Cording, Ralph Dunn, Paul Sutton, Pat Flaherty, Dick Rich (deputies); Mae Marsh (Muley's wife); Herbert Heywood (gas station man); Harry Strang (Fred); Walter Miller (border guard); Gaylord Pendleton, Ben Hall, Robert Shaw (gas station attendants); George O'Hara (clerk); Thornton Edwards (motor cop); Russ Clark, James Flavin, Philip Morris, Max Wagner (guards); Trevor Bardette (Jule); Jack Pennick (committee man); Walter McGrail (leader of gang); William Haade (deputy driver); Ted Oliver (state policeman); Gloria Roy (waitress); George Breakstone, Wally Albright (boys); John Wallace (migrant); Erville Alderson, Louis Mason, Shirley Coates, Peggy Ryan, Georgia Simmons, Harry Holden, Hal Budlong, John Binns, Harry Wallace, L.F. O'Connor, Cliff Herbert, Joe Bordeaux, Tyler Gibson, Leon Brace, Harry Matthews, Frank Newberg, Jack Walters, Bill Wolfe, Delmar Costello, Bill Worth, Frank Atkinson, James Welch, Charles Thurston, Jules Michaelson, Waclaw Rekwart, Sidney Hayes, E.J. Kaspar, D.H. Turner, David Kirkland, C.B. Steele, Frank Watson, Al Stewart, Henry Barhe, Scotty Brown, Charles West, Dean hall, Walton Pindon, Charles W. Hertzinger, W.H. Davis, Scotty Mattraw, Chauncey Pyle, Walter Perry, Billy Elmer, Buster Brodie, Barney Gilmore, Cal Cohen, Nora Bush, Jane Crowley, Eleanor Vogel, Lillian Drew, Cecil Cook, Helen Dean, Pearl Varvell, hazel Lollier, Emily Gerdes, Rose Plummer, Mrs. Gladys Rehfeld, Edna Hall, Josephine Allen.
DVD It
It happened one night. Full screen. [Culver City, Calif.] : Columbia Pictures ;, c2008.
Clark Gable, Claudette Colbert, Walter Connolly, Roscoe Karns, Jameson Thomas, Alan Hale, Arhtur Hoyt. When her father threatens to annul her marriage to a fortune-hunting playboy, spoiled heiress Ellie Andrews hops a cross-country bus to New York, where she plans to live happily ever after with her handsome new hubby. Romantic complications soon arise, however, when she's befriended by fellow passenger Peter Warne, a brash and breezy reporter who offers his help in exchange for her exclusive story.
DVD Mar
The Marx brothers collection. Warner Brothers Home Video.
Set includes: 1) A Night at the Opera; 2) A Day at the Races; 3) A night in Casablanca; 4) Room Service; 5) At the Circus; 6) Go West; 7) The Big Store.
DVD Sca
Scarface.
Paul Muni, Ann Dvorak, Karen Morley, Osgood Pergkins, C. Henry Gordon, George Raft, Vince Barnett, Boris Karloff, Purnell Pratt. "An exciting story of organized crime's brutal control over Chicago during the prohibition era. This compelling tale of ambition, betrayal and revenge is a groundbreaking masterpiece that influenced all gangster films to follow."--Container.
DVD Swi
Swing time. DVD special edition.
Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers, Victor Moore, Helen Broderick, Eric Blore, Betty Furness, Georges Metaxa. "In this irresistible musical, the legendary dancing duo Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers are at the pinnacle of their art as a feckless gambler and the shrewd dancing instructor in whom he more than meets his match. Director George Stevens laces their romance with humor and clears the floor for the movie's showstopping dance scenes, in which Astaire and Rogers take seemingly effortless flight in a virtuosic fusion of ballroom and tap styles. Buoyed by beloved songs by Dorothy Fields and Jerome Kern--including the Oscar-winning classic 'The Way You Look Tonight'--Swing Time is an exuberant celebration of its stars' chemistry, grace, and sheer joy in the act of performance"--Container.
DVD Wil
Wild boys of the road. Warner Bros., Home Video, 1950s.
In the depths of the Depression, two teenage boys strike out on their own in order to help their struggling parents and find life on the road tougher than expected.
EQUIP
Digital Voice Recorder : Multi-function stereo recorder. Olympus Model WS-852. Tokyo: : Olympus Corporation; Olympus America, Inc., PA, 2015.
F Cum
Cummins, Jeanine, author. American dirt. First U.S. edition.
"También de este lado hay sueños. Lydia Quixano Perez lives in the Mexican city of Acapulco. She runs a bookstore. She has a son, Luca, the love of her life, and a wonderful husband who is a journalist. And while there are cracks beginning to show in Acapulco because of the drug cartels, her life is, by and large, fairly comfortable. Even though she knows they'll never sell, Lydia stocks some of her all-time favorite books in her store. And then one day a man enters the shop to browse and comes up to the register with four books he would like to buy-two of them her favorites. Javier is erudite. He is charming. And, unbeknownst to Lydia, he is the jefe of the newest drug cartel that has gruesomely taken over the city. When Lydia's husband's tell-all profile of Javier is published, none of their lives will ever be the same. Forced to flee, Lydia and eight-year-old Luca soon find themselves miles and worlds away from their comfortable middle-class existence. Instantly transformed into migrants, Lydia and Luca ride la bestia-trains that make their way north toward the United States, which is the only place Javier's reach doesn't extend. As they join the countless people trying to reach el norte, Lydia soon sees that everyone is running from something. But what exactly are they running to? American Dirt will leave readers utterly changed when they finish reading it. A page-turner filled with poignancy, drama, and humanity on every page, it is a literary achievement."--.
F Fre
Freudenberger, Nell. The dissident. 1st ed. New York : ECCO, c2006.
F Fre
Freudenberger, Nell, author. Lost and wanted. First Edition.
"Told from the perspective of a female physicist in Cambridge, Massachusetts, a story that explores the nature of friendship, romantic love, and motherhood"--.
F Gla
Gladstone, Max, author. Full fathom five. First Trade paperback edition.
"On the island of Kavekana, Kai builds gods to order, then hands them to others to maintain. Her creations aren't conscious and lack their own wills and voices, but they accept sacrifices, and protect their worshippers from other gods--perfect vehicles for Craftsmen and Craftswomen operating in the divinely controlled Old World. When Kai sees one of her creations dying and tries to save her, she's grievously injured--then sidelined from the business entirely, her near-suicidal rescue attempt offered up as proof of her instability. But when Kai gets tired of hearing her boss, her coworkers, and her ex-boyfriend call her crazy, and starts digging into the reasons her creations die, she uncovers a conspiracy of silence and fear--which will crush her, if Kai can't stop it first"--.
F Gla
Gladstone, Max, author. Last first snow. First Trade paperback edition.
"Forty years after the God Wars, Dresediel Lex bears the scars of liberation--especially in the Skittersill, a poor district still bound by the fallen gods' decaying edicts. As long as the gods' wards last, they strangle development; when they fail, demons will be loosed upon the city. The King in Red hires Elayne Kevarian of the Craft firm Kelethres, Albrecht, and Ao to fix the wards, but the Skittersill's people have their own ideas. A protest rises against Elayne's work, led by Temoc, a warrior-priest turned community organizer who wants to build a peaceful future for his city, his wife, and his young son. As Elayne drags Temoc and the King in Red to the bargaining table, old wounds reopen, old gods stir in their graves, civil blood breaks to new mutiny, and profiteers circle in the desert sky. Elayne and Temoc must fight conspiracy, dark magic, and their own demons to save the peace--or failing that, to save as many people as they can"--.
F Gla
Gladstone, Max, author. Three parts dead. First Trade Paperback Edition.
"A god has died, and it's up to Tara, first-year associate in the international necromantic firm of Kelethres, Albrecht, and Ao, to bring Him back to life before His city falls apart. Her client is Kos, recently deceased fire god of the city of Alt Coulumb. Without Him, the metropolis' steam generators will shut down, its trains will cease running, and its four million citizens will riot. Tara's job: resurrect Kos before chaos sets in. Her only help: Abelard, a chain-smoking priest of the dead god, who's having an understandable crisis of faith. When the dou discovers that Kos was murdered, they have to make a case in Alt Coulumb's courts--and their quest for the truth endangers their partnership, their lives, and Alt Coulumb's slim hope of survival."--from publisher's description.
F Gla
Gladstone, Max, author. Two serpents rise. First Trade paperback edition.
"Shadow demons plague the city reservoir, and Red King Consolidated has sent in Caleb Altemoc--casual gambler and professional risk manager--to cleanse the water for the sixteen million people of Dresediel Lex. At the scene of the crime, Caleb finds an alluring and clever cliff runner, crazy Mal, who easily outpaces him. But Caleb has more than the demon infestation, Mal, or job security to worry about when he discovers that his father--the last priest of the old gods and leader of the True Quechal terrorists--has broken into his home and is wanted in connection to the attacks on the water supply. From the beginning, Caleb and Mal are bound by lust, Craft, and chance, as both play a dangerous game where gods and people are pawns. They sleep on water, they dance in fire ... and all the while the Twin Serpents slumbering beneath the earth are stirring, and they are hungry."--.
F Gla
Ruin of angels. First edition, 2017. New York, NY : Tor, c.2017.
"The God Wars destroyed the city of Alikand. Now, a century and a half and a great many construction contracts later, Agdel Lex rises in its place. Dead deities litter the surrounding desert, streets shift when people aren't looking, a squidlike tower dominates the skyline, and the foreign Iskari Rectification Authority keeps strict order in this once-independent city--while treasure seekers, criminals, combat librarians, nightmare artists, angels, demons, dispossessed knights, grad students, and other fools gather in its ever-changing alleys, hungry for the next big score. Priestess/investment banker Kai Pohala (last seen in Full Fathom Five) hits town to corner Agdel Lex's burgeoning nightmare startup scene, and to visit her estranged sister Lei. But Kai finds Lei desperate at the center of a shadowy, and rapidly unravelling, business deal. When Lei ends up on the run, wanted for a crime she most definitely committed, Kai races to track her sister down before the Authority finds her first. But Lei has her own plans, involving her ex-girlfriend, a daring heist into the god-haunted desert, and, perhaps, freedom for an occupied city. Because Alikand might not be completely dead--and some people want to finish the job."--Amazon.com.
F Gri
Grisham, John, author. The guardians. First edition.
In a small Florida town, a young lawyer, Keith Russo, is shot to death as he works late. A young black man, a former client, named Quincy Miller is charged and convicted. For 22 years, Miller maintains his innocence from inside prison. Finally, Guardian Ministries takes on Miller's case, but Cullen Post, the Episcopal minister in charge, gets more than he bargained for. Powerful people murdered Russo-- they do not want Miller exonerated, and will kill again without a second thought. -- adapted from info provided and jacket info.
F Hil
Hilderbrand, Elin, author. Summer of '69. First edition.
Welcome to the most tumultuous summer of the twentieth century. It's 1969, and for the Levin family, the times they are a-changing. Every year the children have looked forward to spending the summer at their grandmother's historic home in downtown Nantucket. But like so much else in America, nothing is the same: Blair, the oldest sister, is marooned in Boston, pregnant with twins and unable to travel. Middle sister Kirby, caught up in the thrilling vortex of civil rights protests and, determined to be independent, takes a summer job on Martha's Vineyard. Only-son Tiger is an infantry soldier, recently deployed to Vietnam. Thirteen-year-old Jessie suddenly feels like an only child, marooned in the house with her out-of-touch grandmother and her worried mother, each of them hiding a troubling secret. As the summer heats up, Ted Kennedy sinks a car in Chappaquiddick, man flies to the moon, and Jessie and her family experience their own dramatic upheavals along with the rest of the country.
F Jen
Jenoff, Pam, author. The lost girls of Paris. Library Exclusive Edition.
"From the author of the runaway bestseller The Orphan's Tale comes a remarkable story of friendship and courage centered around three women and a ring of female secret agents during World War II.1946, Manhattan. One morning while passing through Grand Central Terminal on her way to work, Grace Healey finds an abandoned suitcase tucked beneath a bench. Unable to resist her own curiosity, Grace opens the suitcase, where she discovers a dozen photographs--each of a different woman. In a moment of impulse, Grace takes the photographs and quickly leaves the station. Grace soon learns that the suitcase belonged to a woman named Eleanor Trigg, leader of a network of female secret agents who were deployed out of London during the war. Twelve of these women were sent to Occupied Europe as couriers and radio operators to aid the resistance, but they never returned home, their fates a mystery. Setting out to learn the truth behind the women in the photographs, Grace finds herself drawn to a young mother turned agent named Marie, whose daring mission overseas reveals a remarkable story of friendship, valor and betrayal. Vividly rendered and inspired by true events, New York Times bestselling author Pam Jenoff shines a light on the incredible heroics of the brave women of the war and weaves a mesmerizing tale of courage, sisterhood and the great strength of women to survive in the hardest of circumstances"--Publisher's description.
F Jen
Jenoff, Pam, author. The orphan's tale.
Sixteen-year-old Noa, forced to give up her baby fathered by a Nazi soldier, snatches a child from a boxcar containing Jewish infants bound for a concentration camp and takes refuge with a traveling circus, where Astrid, a Jewish aerialist, becomes her mentor.
F Maa
Sharon Maas. The Girl from the Sugar Plantation. 23 Sussex Road, Ickenham, UB10 8PN, United Kingdom : Bookouture.
F Maa
Sharon Maas. The Violin Maker's Daughter. Carmelite House, 50 Victoria Embankment London EC4Y 0DZ : Bookouture, 2019.
F Maas
Sharon Maas. The Lost Daughter of India. 23 Sussex Road, Ickenham, UB10 8PN United Kingdom : Bookouture.
F Mak
Makkai, Rebecca, author. The great believers.
"A dazzling new novel of friendship and redemption in the face of tragedy and loss set in 1980s Chicago and contemporary Paris, by the acclaimed and award-winning author Rebecca Makkai. In 1985, Yale Tishman, the development director for an art gallery in Chicago, is about to pull off an amazing coup, bringing in an extraordinary collection of 1920s paintings as a gift to the gallery. Yet as his career begins to flourish, the carnage of the AIDS epidemic grows around him. One by one, his friends are dying and after his friend Nico's funeral, the virus circles closer and closer to Yale himself. Soon the only person he has left is Fiona, Nico's little sister. Thirty years later, Fiona is in Paris tracking down her estranged daughter who disappeared into a cult. While staying with an old friend, a famous photographer who documented the Chicago crisis, she finds herself finally grappling with the devastating ways AIDS affected her life and her relationship with her daughter. The two intertwining stories take us through the heartbreak of the eighties and the chaos of the modern world, as both Yale and Fiona struggle to find goodness in the midst of disaster"--.
F McC
A Peirogon : a novel. First Edition. New York, NY : Random House, 2020.
F Mic
Michaelides, Alex, 1977- author. The silent patient. First International Edition.
Alicia Berenson's life is seemingly perfect. A famous painter married to an in-demand fashion photographer, she lives in a grand house with big windows overlooking a park in one of London's most desirable areas. One evening her husband Gabriel returns home late from a fashion shoot, and Alicia shoots him five times in the face, and then never speaks another word. Alicia's refusal to talk or give any kind of explanation turns a domestic tragedy into something far grander, a mystery that captures the public imagination and casts Alicia into notoriety. The price of her art skyrockets, and she, the silent patient, is hidden away from the spotlight of the tabloids at the Grove, a secure forensic unit in North London. Theo Faber is a criminal psychotherapist who has waited a long time for the opportunity to work with Alicia. His search for the truth leads him down a terrifying path and threatens to consume him.
F Ng
Ng, Celeste, author. Little fires everywhere.
F Old
Older, Daniel José, author. The Book of Lost Saints. First edition.
"The spirit of Marisol, who vanished during the Cuban Revolution, visits her nephew, Ramon, in modern-day New Jersey, and her presence prompts him to investigate the story of his ancestor, unaware of the forces driving him on his search"--.
F Rem
Remarque, Erich Maria, 1898-1970. The road back. Random House Trade Paperback Edition, 2013. New York, NY : Random House Publishing, 2013.
F Ser
Rebecca Serle. The Dinner List. First U.S. Edition, September 2018. New York, NY : Flatiron Books, 2018.
F Ser
Serle, Rebecca, author. In five years : a novel. First Atria Books hardcover edition.
"A striking, powerful, and moving love story following an ambitious lawyer who experiences an astonishing vision that could change her life forever"--. "When Type-A Manhattan lawyer Dannie Cohan is asked this question at the most important interview of her career, she has a meticulously crafted answer at the ready. Later, after nailing her interview and accepting her boyfriend's marriage proposal, Dannie goes to sleep knowing she is right on track to achieve her five-year plan. But when she wakes up, she's suddenly in a different apartment, with a different ring on her finger, and beside a very different man. The television news is on in the background, and she can just make out the scrolling date. It's the same night -December 15 -but 2025, five years in the future. After a very intense, shocking hour, Dannie wakes again, at the brink of midnight, back in 2020. She can't shake what has happened. It certainly felt much more than merely a dream, but she isn't the kind of person who believes in visions. That nonsense is only charming coming from free-spirited types, like her lifelong best friend, Bella. Determined to ignore the odd experience, she files it away in the back of her mind. That is, until four-and-a-half years later, when by chance Dannie meets the very same man from her long-ago vision."--Publisher website.
F Van
Vanderah, Glendy, author. Where the forest meets the stars. First edition.
A mysterious child teaches two strangers how to love and trust again. After the loss of her mother and her own battle with breast cancer, Joanna Teale returns to her graduate research on nesting birds in rural Illinois, determined to prove that her recent hardships have not broken her. When a mysterious child who shows up at her cabin, barefoot and covered in bruises, Joanna enlists the help of her reclusive neighbor, Gabriel Nash, to solve the mystery of the charming child. But the more time they spend together, the more questions they have. How does a young girl not only read but understand Shakespeare? Why do good things keep happening in her presence? And why aren't Jo and Gabe checking the missing children's website anymore? Though the three have formed an incredible bond, they know difficult choices must be made.
F Vuo
Vuong, Ocean, 1988- author. On earth we're briefly gorgeous : a novel.
"Brilliant, heartbreaking, tender, and highly original - poet Ocean Vuong's debut novel is a sweeping and shattering portrait of a family, and a testament to the redemptive power of storytelling. On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous is a letter from a son to a mother who cannot read. Written when the speaker, Little Dog, is in his late twenties, the letter unearths a family's history that began before he was born--a history whose epicenter is rooted in Vietnam--and serves as a doorway into parts of his life his mother has never known, all of it leading to an unforgettable revelation. At once a witness to the fraught yet undeniable love between a single mother and her son, it is also a brutally honest exploration of race, class, and masculinity"--.
F Whi
Whitehead, Colson, 1969- author. The nickel boys : a novel. First edition.
[Fic]
Gladstone, Max, author. Four roads cross. First edition.
"The great city of Alt Coulumb is in crisis. The moon goddess Seril, long thought dead, is back--and the people of Alt Coulumb aren't happy. Protests rock the city, and Kos Everburning's creditors attempt a hostile takeover of the fire god's church. Tara Abernathy, the god's in-house Craftswoman, must defend the church against the world's fiercest necromantic firm--and against her old classmate, a rising star in the Craftwork world. As if that weren't enough, Cat and Raz, supporting characters from Three Parts Dead , are back too, fighting monster pirates; skeleton kings drink frozen cocktails, defying several principles of anatomy; jails, hospitals, and temples are broken into and out of; choirs of flame sing over Alt Coulumb; demons pose significant problems; a farmers' market proves more important to world affairs than seems likely; doctors of theology strike back; Monk-Technician Abelard performs several miracles; The Rats! play Walsh's Place; and dragons give almost-helpful counsel."--Syndetics.
R 943.086
The Holocaust chronicle. Lincolnwood, Ill. : Publications International, Ltd, 2009; 2017.
The Holocaust Chronicle, written and fact-checked by top scholars, recounts the long, complex, anguishing story of the most terrible crime of the 20th century. A massive, oversized hardcover of more than 750 pages, this book features more than 2000 photographs, many of which are in full color and most are published in book form for the first time. The 3000-item timeline of Holocaust-related events is unprecedented in its scope and ambition and detailed caption-text is rich with facts and human interest.
SC Rus
Russell, Karen, 1981- author. Orange world : and other stories. First edition.
The prospectors -- The bad graft -- Bog girl: a romance -- Madame Bovary's greyhound -- The tornado auction -- Black Corfu -- The Gondoliers -- Orange world. "From the Pulitzer finalist and universally beloved author of the New York Times best sellers Swamplandia! and Vampires in the Lemon Grove, a stunning new collection of short fiction that showcases her extraordinary gifts of language and imagination"--.
SC Rus
Russell, Karen, 1981-. Vampires in the lemon grove : stories. 1st ed. New York : Alfred A. Knopf, 2013.
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Smith, Zadie, author. Grand union : stories.
The dialectic -- Sentimental education -- The lazy river -- Words and music -- Just right -- Parents' morning epiphany -- Downtown -- Miss Adele amidst the corsets -- Mood -- Escape from New York -- Big week -- Meet the President! -- Two men arrive in a village -- Kelso deconstructed -- Blocked -- The canker -- For the King -- Now more than ever -- Grand union. "A dazzling collection of short fiction, more than half of which have never been published before, from the multi-award-winning author of White Teeth and Swing Time Zadie Smith has established herself as one of the most iconic, critically-respected, and popular writers of her generation. In her first short story collection, she combines her power of observation and inimitable voice to mine the fraught and complex experience of life in the modern world. With ten extraordinary new stories complemented by a selection of her most lauded pieces for The New Yorker, The Paris Review, and Granta, GRAND UNION explores a wide range of subjects, from first loves to cultural despair, as well as the desire to be the subject of your own experience. In captivating prose, she contends with race, class, relationships, and gender roles in a world that feels increasingly divided. Nothing is off limits, and everything--when captured by Smith's brilliant gaze--feels fresh and relevant. Perfectly paced, and utterly original, GRAND UNION highlights the wonders Zadie Smith can do"--. In her first short story collection, Smith combines her power of observation and inimitable voice to mine the fraught and complex experience of life in the modern world. She explores a wide range of subjects, from first loves to cultural despair, as well as the desire to be the subject of your own experience. In the stories Smith contends with race, class, relationships, and gender roles in a world that feels increasingly divided. -- adapted from jacket.
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Article by Margo Huxley - early days in Australia, 1975.
“On stage are what appear to be seven refugees from an op shop run by a lunatic asylum. They wear suits that are too big, too small or both at once. The singer’s hair is a frizz of tangles that falls over his heavily be-rouged face. He moves like a sped up movie of Charlie Chaplin doing an imitation of Harpo Marx - or is it vice versa? He comes on with a patter that sounds like ‘Waiting for Godot’ done by a music hall M.C.
Somewhere in the shadows lurks Groucho, complete with eyebrows and moustache, playing a Gibson electric guitar. Next to him, but only briefly, stands a fellow in a baggy brown suit from the set of the Godfather - he plays bass.
Round-faced and cherubic sits the drummer, almost hidden behind his kit, but visible enough to show that his suit too is certainly somebody’s cast-off.
A resurrected James Dean, white faced and hollow-eyed in a teddy boy suit of brilliant red, the pants of which are far too long and bag around the lower part of his legs, plays acoustic, electric suitar and mandolin.
The maestro of the keyboards - synthesizer, mellotron, string synthesizer and a piano that looks like someone has taken an axe to it, (and though electric, it sounds just like the real thing) - he is resplendent in tails, almost normal except that one sleeve ends at the left elbow and the other is about a foot beyond his right hand.
Then there’s this fellow just standing there, seemingly redundant in an ill-fitting pale blue suit, his head hanging like a broken marionette. Redundant that is, until he breaks forth with a pair of spoons in his hand, playing them against his head, his feet, his knees, anywhere. The rest of the time he plays slightly pixillated triangle, xylophone, bell-tree and tambourine to mention a few. Occasionally he strides up to a microphone, any microphone, to throw in a world or two of vocals.
Suddenly the demented action stops and the whole band stands in cameo stillness for a burst of electronic sound that fills the hall.
“Who are they?” a bloke in the audience asks his mate. “Dunno” the mate replies. “I think they’re Captain Matchbox.”
WRONG! This is Split Enz and as their name implies, they hail from New Zealand. Don’t be fooled. Just because they “dress funny” doesn’t mean they are like Captain Matchbox, skyhooks or - “Anyone who compares us with Roxy Music hasn’t heard Roxy Music” says Timothy Finn, lead singer.
Neither are they like Yes, King Crimson, The Sensational Alex Harvey Band, Beefheart, Zappa, Schonbert, Cage, Al Jolson, Scott Joplin, The Goons, Marcel Marceau, Monty Python or anyone else you like to mention. But comparisons are inevitable.
Comparisons are the direction with which we chart the waters of a new experience. In Split Enz music you fill find everything: classical and neo-classical; music hall honkeytonk and sleazy vaudeville; acoustic and electronic, with a blues and a boogie thrown in here and there; good ol’ rock’n’ roll; and just when you think they’ve done it all they hit you with a piano full of cool jazz, some Gregorian chants or calypso shouts for good measure.
These analogies are only signposts; the more you hear their music, the less you need them, and the more you come to realise that Split Enz create music that is individually theirs. Their lyrics conjure up nightmare visions, obsessions with madness and the macabre, woven out of cliches that spring at you with renewed vigour; phrases such as “time to kill”, “dead to the world” suggest sinister overtomes. Lines like “just hold me down if I have a fit... I think I’ll be all right... I’ll be normal someday”, “the rats are crawling up my back, it can only mean you’re coming back” are delivered with frenetic, demented mime that is more demonic than lunatic.
Some songs perhaps threaten to fall apart at the seams as style, rhythm and reference change and pile upon one another, but for the most part each song, as each performance, is carefully arranged.
“It’s a bloody orchestra.” one innocent bystander is heard to remark. And indeed ‘orchestrated’ is a better word for the music, and ‘choreographed’ a better word for the performance.
The taped Andrews Sisters-type music at the beginning with canned applause and the announcement “... SPLIT ENZ!”, the discourse on “how to get from A to B”, walking on an invisible conveyer belt going nowhere - the whole performance is a carefully planned sequence.
But not stilted, not unspontaneous. There are always new surprises even when, at daytime gigs they dispense with make up and stage clothes and appear as their normal selves. Despite the parodies and satires implied in their music - “Spoofs” is the word Timothy Finn uses - there clings to them an aura of innocence and naivety, like a Henri Rousseau painting.
This impression persists with them off stage. They are quietly spoken and polite. although their normal dress is somewhat - uh - eccentric in these days blue jeans and T-shirts, they are not the formidably intimidating maniacs they become on stage.
Timothy Finn, whose hair is no more manageable off stage than on, does most of the talking. Eddie Rayner of the keyboards is more relaxed, with a fresh-faced charm like the captain of the school cricket.
He joined Split Enz from Space Waltz, a group in which he earned much deserved renown for his wizardry on the ivories and electronic switches.
Jonathon Michael Chunn of the bass guitar has Byronic good looks that even his stage make up cannot hide, and Wally Wilkinson, moustache free from blackening and eyebrows normal is full of witty irrelevancies.
Emlyn Crowther, the man behind the drums, looks as Welsh as his name and smiles a lot. Noel Crombie is the owner of the chattering spoons. He is also the designer and maker of costumes, silent and forlorn looking, like a lost pup. And Philip Judd is reserved, almost disdainful, and stripped of grease paint, looks more like Rudolf Valentino than James Dean – that might be something to do with the scarf knotted at his throat.
Split Enz was formed about 3 years ago, but the present line up has only been together for about 10 months and work remarkably well. Timothy Finn and Philip Judd are responsible for the genesis of the words and music which the whole group then fashion into a final stage presentation.
They don’t like to talk about ‘influences’ – “The Beatles” says Timothy Finn without so much as a bat of an eyelid. And when you think about it anyone who plays music today can’t have escaped the ubiquitous presence of the Beatles. Anyway, Split Enz have admitted to liking the Kinds and the Sensational Alex Harvey Band. You can make what you like of that. It’s not a definitive list.
Their conversation is free of swearing and they don’t smoke, but have been seen to drink a beer or two on the odd occasion. They are naturally “un-hip”. They avoid words like ‘hassle’, ‘dig’, ‘gig’ and anyone in the group who makes such a blunder is gently offered alternatives like ‘bother’, ‘appreciate’, ‘job’.
Confusion occurs about their names – again because of their desire to reject the clichés of the pop world. They decided to take their second Christian names as first names which is why if you ever come across anything written about them in New Zealand, the names won’t tally. Sometimes they themselves forget and call each other by their old names, but the error is always quickly corrected.
However, some of them nationalistically flaunt the great New Zealand ‘eh’ on the end of their sentences. “That’s a great new piano we’ve just bought, eh” – not a question, a statement. But they are dropping the tag “New Zealand’s Top Band” and such like, which, while it is undoubtedly true, is just another cliché to be avoided like the plague (whoops, sorry).
Already their stay of three weeks in Australia has been extended to six in order to record with Festival in Sydney. The album will be produced by their manager Dave Russell and the cover design by ex art student Philip Judd. Out on Mushroom, the album will be a token of Michael Gudinski’s enthusiasm for this band.
They have been deluged with work, after an initially slow start in Sydney. They are the support act for the Leo Sayer Melbourne concert and have done an ABC GTK which was an immediate success. More than 60 phone calls came in after it was shown to ask who the band were – that’s some sort of record.
Up until this Australian tour, the group has always had plenty of time to recuperate from the last job and plan and prepare the next. But they are finding the rigours of touring with jobs every day or so, and sometimes more than one a day, very wearing. Any spare energy left over from the last performance must be channelled into preparing for the one following close on its heels.
Another result of the GTK spot was an approach from an ABC producer to do the sound track for a documentary called “Ten Australians”. In particular they are to back a sequence featuring the artist Sydney Ball at work.
Their plans for the future include a return to New Zealand for a couple of months, followed by a longer sojourn in Australia (amen to that), and depending on reactions to their album they hope to go to England…
Of course such an esoteric band does not have universal appeal, and being unknown in Australia, sight unseen, it’s even harder to win hearts and minds. They have great hopes that the album, plus their shows here and a bit of media exposure will make their return to Australia somewhat easier.
They do not appeal to the younger age groups – “they are no the audience we are really aiming at”. They got a poor reception at the Melbourne Festival Hall Skyhooks concert, where they were first on. The audience didn’t know and didn’t want to. (But I seem to remember once a long time ago, Skyhooks was an “underground” band). But at the Reefer Cabaret, at Unis and the Station Hotel standing ovations are the order of the day.
“There are many ways of saying goodbye:” Timothy Finn lurches into his pitch for the final number – limbs jerking, face twitching at the mercy of some drunken puppeteer; “Goodbye, Byebye, Adieu, See you later, Au revoir…” etc. “…SO LONG FOR NOW”.
Never fear, we have not seen the last of Split Enz. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is A Good Thing.”
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Made a Dead Man’s Money
Summary: Jughead and Betty try to mend their relationship while solving the problems in their own lives, nine years after solving the case of Jason Blossom’s murder. It doesn’t help that the demons of one become demons of another until they’re fighting for their lives.
Genre: General, Canon Divergent, Angst, Hurt, Thriller, Romance, Action
Pairing: Betty x Jughead
Timeline: Future Fic
Word count: 7,389
Part three of oh lazarus, were you so afraid
PREVIOUSLY: Upon receiving the news he’s not going to be able to pay rent again, Jughead’s feeling restless even before he stumbles into someone he hasn’t seen in five years, bringing him near a breaking point.
In every situation, there’s two types of people – those who do and those who don’t. For the entirety of his life, he’s considered himself to be the former, fighting for what he believes in and coordinating his actions according to it.
Given that he’s currently at Midge’s writing a column about the latest blockbuster, it’s not difficult to say he was wrong.
It was Harvey’s advice, he thinks as he sips his coffee. It was good advice, despite the fact it pained his pride to accept Toni’s offer and—in his own words—sell out. But when everything’s taken into account, Jughead needs to admit that it was the best decision he could make.
“You doing all right there, mate?” asks Jeff, grinning at him from the counter.
Jughead rolls his eyes. “You’re not getting that tip, mate.”
“Ah, bummer,” Jeff says. “It’s the only thing keeping me alive, you know.”
Although he says nothing and tries very hard not to smile, working on the column is easier for him from that point. Suffice to say, he’s taken a liking to the kid – he’s clever, the way he thinks he used to be, and has the street smarts of a boy much older than his age. Though, put that aside and you get a seventeen year-old who doesn’t do well at school, has a mother who’s working two shifts all the time and a never-present father.
It was a joke – Jughead’s tips aren’t the only thing keeping him alive. But somehow, if it means anything to the kid, makes his life at least a little bit easier—even if that’s just knowing someone’s going to tip him a little more than they should every time they come—then it’s worth it.
This is about the point when three things happen.
Thing one: he decides he’s done with the column for the day. It shouldn’t be long, anyway, but he’s never been the one to half-ass things so he’s going to make it the best he can. But for the day, he’s done with it.
Thing two: he decides his next story should be about Jeff. The boy’s a great study of character; someone coming from a not-so-good neighbourhood (Midge pulled his family to Washington Heights once Midge’s became profitable) with a bright outlook on their future. Jughead was definitely a fan and, if he manages to put it on the paper the right way, others will be, too.
Thing three: Betty Cooper enters the diner.
Her hair isn’t pulled into a ponytail – it’s styled in a long, careless-looking braid that reaches her mid back. The coat she’s wearing reaches her knees and it’s a faded blue, a colour he once told her looks amazing on her. And it does, even now – it brings out the red in her cheeks and the plumpness of her lips, contrasting the light in her eyes and making her hair look a soft gold.
His eyes fall back onto the paper and he scribbles something on it, painfully aware of her eyes on him. It’s not long until she slides into the booth across from him.
He doesn’t look up.
“Hi.”
“I’m busy,” he says.
When she doesn’t move, he knows she hasn’t changed. There’s a feeling in the pit of his stomach, blubbering, and he can’t figure out whether it’s pride for her remaining as persistent as he was used to, or annoyance because she wouldn’t leave.
It’s his decision it’s the latter.
With his pen clicking a little louder than it should’ve, he raises his eyes to meet hers. “What brings the infamous Betty Cooper to the farthest booth in a small New York diner?”
“Well,” she says, voice quiet, “the milkshakes.” She says it with a smile, a sheepish one that could once upon a time cut through any guard he’d build up for himself; this time, his walls are too thick for even a gaze like hers to protrude them.
“The milkshakes.”
The smile grows. “Yes.”
He grumbles something he forgets immediately, likely about refusing the offer between the lines – he is not going to be bought by a milkshake, no matter how good. It’s Betty’s way of trying to get to him, to pretend everything’s normal.
They chat for some time, small talk at most. He doesn’t need to—want to—turn on his brain for this. Instead, his thoughts compare the similarities between now and then.
Against his better judgement, he allows himself to find enough solace in her blue eyes to steady the pace of his thoughts.
He’s at Pop’s again; they’re sixteen. Betty is sitting next to him and sipping a milkshake, her hand cold in his. It’s February, his birthday, but it doesn’t feel like it.
“What now?” he remembers asking.
His beanie lies forgotten on the table, all he can think about is Betty. She feels small in his arms, cradled against his chest with nose nuzzled into the collar of his jacket. Her palms are open and he can’t tear his eyes off them, fingers trailing the faint crescent shapes on them.
He remembers Betty has closed her eyes some time ago. Her breathing is even and calm, and maybe for the first time since they came from the movies, he feels like things aren’t that bad. Next thing he does is kiss her forehead with closed eyes. It’s the feeling he never wants to let go of, the warmth of Betty Cooper over his body.
He remembers her smiling a little when she looks up. Her eyes are a little red and he smiles at her, running a hand through her hair.
“Now,” he remembers her soft voice telling him, “we go home.”
He is already home.
Thinking of Betty is weird, Jughead concludes as he watches her tell him about her job at New York Times. He’s been putting it off for nearly five years and when he finally does succumb, it comes naturally as ever.
Fuck, Jughead thinks and his heart plummets into his stomach. I miss her.
He sighs, but she doesn’t notice. She’s talking to him and she sounds excited, and he wonders if he’s doing the right thing. He left Riverdale for a reason, much like he told Harvey, and he never thought he’d face any of it ever again. But Jughead is Jughead and, even though he goes by Jones know, things he runs away from always catch up to him.
“Hey, Betty?”
She was saying something—and he interrupted—but now she’s staring at him, doe eyes filled with confusion and expectancy. “Yes?”
He swallows. Doesn’t dwell on it. “How about we finish this conversation in my flat?”
It’s then that her smile becomes genuine—and he realizes he hasn’t noticed it wasn’t—and her eyes light up in a way he’s so used to it makes him smile against his better judgement. She’s the first to leave and wait outside, as he leaves the money on the table and ten dollars more than he should.
Jeff doesn’t notice it but it doesn’t matter to Jughead. The kid smiles at him and he waves back, feeling good. He’s done some good today and he’s going to fix the mistakes he’s made, before turning his back to them when the night falls.
On their way to his apartment, they talk about things he knows don’t matter to either of them. It’s about the weather and what awful storms are coming up; about her flat and how she got it, about her friends here and other things he can’t bother remembering. It doesn’t slip his notice she not once mentions Riverdale or past.
They’re stuck in the present and as long as their history is locked behind them, he doesn’t run.
“I’ve been staying with Harvey for three years now,” he explains carefully. “On Fridays, he and Victoria, his girlfriend, go to the movies and then to the first restaurant they come across when opening the phone book. It’s been that way for all seven years they’ve been dating, so I’m sure you don’t need to worry about accidentally bumping into him.”
“I’m not—“
“Betty,” he says. “It’s all right.”
Her face falls but there’s a glimmer in her eyes; he notices her hand twitching ever so slightly towards his, eyes following it. He tucks them into the pockets of his jacket using the cold as an excuse.
He knows she’s anxious about this. He knows until he told her they aren’t going to be jumped by his roommate that she was freaking out about it on the inside. He still remembers a lot of things about her.
For the briefest of moments—and stupidest, of course—he thinks whether he should tell her that his hand is reaching for hers, too.
Before he does something he’s going to regret, he stops in front of a tall brown building. “We’re here.”
Betty looks up, eyes the building – he can see the wheels turning, but he’s not answering the questions she’s not asking. The whole point of this little trip to his place is to soothe her curiosity, show her there’s nothing left for her in his life and hope their paths cross never again.
“It looks lovely,” Betty comments as they make their way into the building.
“Harvey’s choice,” Jughead explains. “He’s got a knack for things like this.”
“Fanciness?”
“You could say that.” His word of choice would be luxury – and he has a feeling it’s hers, too, except she’s still polite enough to not be so blunt.
It was a bad decision, he concludes when she enters the apartment. The awe on her face is visible, barely shielding confusion she’s fallen into. He locks the door and watches her look around, making comments about the size of it and the paintings—Harvey’s—and asking whether she could buy one.
Jughead replies to all questions as polite as he can. He’s reserved and she notices, especially when they’re sitting on the sofa that’s bigger than his bed back at home.
When it nears six o’clock, Jughead gets up to make dinner. He doesn’t want to admit it, but sitting next to her was like smoking the last cigarette in the pack – something that’s good, but something that kills you and you know it shouldn’t happened, though it happened so many times before.
To him, Betty Cooper is an addiction that comes with more flaws than perks.
“You’re always been so against cooking,” she comments. She makes her way to the bar and sits on the stool, hands on the flat surface. “I never figured one day you’d be offering to make me dinner.”
Jughead gives her a long look, preparing eggs. “I can heat you some pizza.”
“No.” Betty smiles at him. “If I die, I’d rather it be of your cooking than supermarket food.”
He crouches and takes in a deep breath, where she can’t see, and doesn’t say anything when he comes back with a frying pan. She tells him about her roommate—whose name Jughead keeps missing—and how they’re living in a pretty small flat, as she’s financing herself off her own earnings and none of her family’s money.
Jughead doesn’t know whether that’s a passive attack at him for living in a massive apartment. His skin crawls, and he decides it’s easier to go on with his life pretending it is.
“So,” Betty says and Jughead’s more than relieved than she can’t see the change in his face in response to the change in her tone. “How’s it been?”
“Delightful,” he replies. He stuffs the eggs onto the pan then relaxes his shoulders, slowly, thinking of breathing. When the omelette is done, he places one on her plate and one on his, sitting opposite of Betty. “It’s not poison.”
“Of course it isn’t poison.” She takes a bite and gives out a surprised gasp. “This is amazing, Juggie!”
Flinch and shudder. Don’t think about it. “Harvey should be back soon.”
“You didn’t answer my question, Jughead.”
“Didn’t I?” He gives her another long look, wrapping it with steel. “I said things have been delightful.”
Betty says nothing to this, but her lower lip is trembling and her knuckles are white, fingers somewhere on her palm.
Jughead sighs. It’s no longer your concern. If she’s hurting yourself, it’s none of your business. He leaves the room and checks up on Harvey—he’s going to be here in ten minutes—before stopping on his way back.
“Damn you, Betty.”
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He hurt her once and he’s going to hurt her again because she’s nosy and he doesn’t need that right now.
Instead of the kitchen in the living room, he goes into the bathroom. The boy staring at him in the mirror is no longer that – the sleepless nights had taken a toll a long time ago, and his black hair is now cut short to only few inches. He runs a hand through it, recalling how it felt back in Riverdale, when it was much longer. He’s lost some weight in the past few months, too – his cheekbones are more defined and jaw stronger. Jughead’s no longer a boy, much like Betty’s no longer a girl.
They’re a man and a woman now, and two people who should mean nothing to one another.
He washes his face, splashing water all around. A pair of fingerless gloves that are always waiting for him end up on his hands, and he feels ready to face Betty.
When he comes back, she hasn’t touched her omelette.
“Hey. Aren’t you going to eat that?”
Betty smiles at him; Jughead balls his hands into fists behind his back. “I was waiting for you.”
He doesn’t smile back and they eat in silence.
Not even a minute later—Jughead curses silently that it couldn’t last long enough—Betty breaks it, poking her omelette with a fork. “I thought we could . . . go out sometime. Have a real talk.”
“We can talk now.”
“We can’t,” Betty says, and he hears exasperation in her voice. “We can’t because you’ve been avoiding any serious topic this entire time!”
He looks at her, then shrugs. “Or I guess we can’t talk now.”
“Jughead – I just want to know what happened.”
If he were to start – no, he’s not going to. There’s no point in even trying to make the events a coherent story because there would be so much needed to be left out for her and by taking it all out, less than a skeleton would remain and he’s already got one too many in his closet.
Jughead puts away their plates and sits back on his chair, not looking at her. His fingers are fidgeting with the gloves and he’s constantly making sure she can’t see his knuckles.
In the moment he makes a decision, his heart falters a little.
“What happened is none of your business, Betty,” Jughead tells her; slowly, clearly, sharply. “Not anymore.”
That is about the point when three things happen.
First, Betty parts her lips to protest. It’s just like he remembers – stern eyes and tense shoulders, body leaning over the counter just a little. Except her eyes are now harsher and older, and he knows the words that are about to leave her mouth more evocate and to-the-point than before, and they’re more swords than swift daggers.
Second, Jughead decides he’s had enough. It’s somewhere he needs to draw a line and this is just the right time to do it. He’s not going to argue with her. He’s not going to even think about what she might have to say, because it really is none of her business what he’s doing with his life. And Jughead decides to forget about her.
Third, Harvey Levario comes home.
“Hola, mi amigo!” echoes in the vast living room, laughter scattered through the words.
Jughead doesn’t greet him and neither does Betty, so when Harvey enters the living room and sees them, the silence that ensues is one of the tensest Jughead’s ever experienced. He takes his eyes off Betty and takes a long look at his roommate, because words that are forming in his head are all but appropriate.
He stands up. “Harvey, this is Elizabeth Cooper. Elizabeth, this is Harvey Levario, my roommate.”
Betty shots him a glare before putting on the nicest smile and shaking hands with the dazzled boy. Jughead knows neither of them missed the lack of any detail with Betty’s introduction.
“Hi,” Harvey says. He smiles, widely, and the whole room feels lighter. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Betty doesn’t look at Jughead when she says, “Doubt it.”
Harvey pretends not to notice. “Well—“
“Betty’s on her way home,” interjects Jughead, voice definite. “She should get going soon and we’ll talk later, all right?”
He doesn’t allow either of them to protest as he grabs her bag and ushers her out of the apartment. They’re a little clumsy and feeling her skin beneath his fingertips as he holds her arm feels different than he’s used to and he realizes he can’t stop making the comparisons of then and now.
Except he’s decided there will be no now with Betty.
She’s shivering once they’re out of the building, standing on the winter cold. It’s not snowing—hasn’t been in a while—but it looks like it might.
“I’ll call you a cab,” Jughead tells her.
“I can call my own cab, thank you. You don’t have to be so . . . “
“So what, huh, Betty?” Jughead presses thumbs against his temples and looks away, shuddering. He forgot to take a jacket or a coat or something and now he’s angry and annoyed and irritated and nearly arguing with his ex whom he hadn’t seen in five years. “I don’t want to do this today. Or anytime, really.”
“Do what? I wasn’t aware we were doing anything, really.”
He doesn’t want to look at her. “Damn it, Betty. Get your own cab, I’m going back.”
“Jughead—“
He looks at her with all the anger and irritation and five years of bottled up feelings directed at her. His hands are in his pockets and he’s shivering and damn cold but he waits to hear what she has to say. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he owes her at least that much.
Betty smiles at him; it’s the pity, the sad smile she would sometimes give him when he first told her about his homelessness as a fifteen year-old. “I don’t think you should do the column. You can do more than that.”
“You have no idea what I can do,” he tells her and with that, he’s gone.
Not one part of him regrets it. There’s only so much he can allow himself with his past and he’s already crossed the line, more than once.
Harvey’s sitting on the sofa when he gets back into the apartment, sketching something into his notebook. His head raises when he hears Jughead fumbling with the stuff he needs, but looks away when Jughead shakes his head.
In a quick trip to his bedroom, he takes the bandages, several bottles of water and sports shorts, stuffing it all in a bag. The fingerless gloves are still on his hands and he’s hurrying all too much, constantly forgetting the additional things he needs to take, because he’d planned his evening and it should’ve gone way differently.
“I’ll be back late,” Jughead informs Harvey on his way out. “Don’t wait up.”
“Don’t get beaten up,” Harvey retorts.
Jughead nods, because they both know Harvey will wait up and Jughead will get beaten up.
He’s firm on his feet when he leaves the building. The air is chilly and it’s several degrees below zero, but he hardly notices any of it. There is a feeling between his shoulder blades, sharp and gnawing at his every step and he can’t shake it off. It’s a different kind of warmth that spreads all the way to the tips of his fingers and his arms are buzzing with a hunger he can’t put in words.
There are days when he wishes he has it different and there are days like these, when he knows he wouldn’t have it any way at all if it had it different.
Harvey knows a little, but doesn’t understand. Toni doesn’t know, but she would understand. Victoria and Midge and Jeff neither know nor would understand.
There is nobody else.
Fifteen minutes into the walk, Jughead’s senses are alert on a familiar way. His hands and fingers now almost throbbing with desire tense and the hunger in his back opens its jaws. He turns around and sees no one, but he knows they’re there.
He says nothing. He swings the bag over his shoulders and steadies it at his back and he wishes he had enough self-control not to enjoy this.
It’s quiet. His steps are quiet, too, and not a sound escapes him as he walks where he came from.
Someone is following him.
The alley he enters is lit by a street light way ahead and most of it is left in the dark, succumbing to a dread Jughead knows he should be feeling instead. But this is a different version to him than the one who was paranoid at Midge’s all those months ago – that was F. Jones, and this is Jughead.
This Jughead is moulded by the streets of New York, by murders and lies of Riverdale, and horrors of his own; this Jughead is clad of resentment and rage, softly boiling for the past five years.
This Jughead is dangerous. And that Jughead nearly throws the small figure that’s been following him on the ground. Only in the last moment does he realize it’s none other than Betty.
He pauses, for a moment. Makes the decision in the split of the next.
“What the fuck were you thinking, following me?” His shoulders are stiff and he’s holding Betty for her shoulders, forcing her to take steps backwards until her back collide with the hard wall. “Don’t you have fucking common sense left in your head?”
She swallows loudly and tries to shake his hands off, but fails. He can’t see her face but he doesn’t have to – if she’s anything like she used to be, then he’s glaring at her with lips pressed tight and her chin held high, looking danger straight in the eyes.
It’s not much of a surprise for him to realize he’s the danger.
“You’re up to something, Jughead,” she states. Her voice is unsteady and cold, but there is no affection in it. “I know you’re hiding something from me.”
His eyes close and flutter. He takes in a deep breath and swallows the first words that come to his mind, only looking back at her when he’s ready. “Don’t you think there might be a reason why I’m not telling you things? Why I don’t talk to you?”
“You’re just doing the same thing you alwa—”
“Don’t you fucking dare tell me what I’m doing!” A shudder runs through his bones and he’s pressing her against the wall, gentleness gone with the wind. He’s rough and he’s angry and he needs her to see it. “I’m done with you, Betty. I left Riverdale and I left my old life and I don’t need you in this one, too. What I’m doing is my fucking business and keep your nose the hell out of it because you don’t belong here anymore. Follow me again and I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen another time, Betts. We’ve been done for a long time and now you’re just a stranger awfully interested in my life and I don’t like a bit of that. So would you kindly back the fuck off and let me live without you sniffing around, or do I need to make you do it? Because—”
Someone walks by, on the main road, and doesn’t look into the alley. The two grow silent but neither look around and Jughead holds her still, his hands shaking just a little and his heart threatening to cut through his ribcage.
His eyes got used to the dark and he sees her better now. She’s glaring at him in a way he’s not used to and he knows he was wrong – she’s almost nothing like the girl he left in Riverdale.
Her edges aren’t soft anymore, just like his have sharpened in the past three years.
“Get the fuck away from me,” he growls. “I’m done playing nice.”
Betty pushes him away and he lets her. Her braid is a mess and her coat must be smudged, but she looks astonishing; she looks like the bad side of herself she never let him see. In the briefest of heartbeat-long moments, Jughead Jones recognizes the extensity of the persona Betty Cooper has been hiding for a very, very long time.
She doesn’t hesitate when she says: “You’re a fucking son of a bitch.”
Jughead doesn’t blink. “Don’t follow me.”
“You’re an asshole and a moron and nothing like you used to be.”
“Welcome to the real world, Betts. People are pieces of shit.”
She pushes him. “I don’t recognize you anymore.”
“Good.”
“I hate you.”
The words sting but he takes them like he should – with a grim smile. “Back at you, blondie.”
She slaps him. Hard, right across the cheek. It stings just as much as the words did but this one he deserves even more. She’s stronger than before, firmer, harder and a part of him is proud to see life has hardened her in all the ways it should have, only a little less than going overboard like it did with him.
She takes a step back, shoots him another glare and turns on her heel. He watches her go out of the alley and the opposite direction of where they were going before, and he can’t help but notice something different tugs at him now – some part of him that lay dormant deep within him before he arrived to New York.
Jughead is back on his way in no time. He arrives ten minutes late, but nobody has anything to say about that and he’s glad. His arms are still throbbing and he can’t keep his fingers still – wrapping the bandages around them and throwing the first punch at the boxing bag in the changing room feels riveting.
Freeing.
Minutes later, his punch lands into the stomach of a guy almost twice his size and opens the match. Jughead pumps to the rhythm of people shouting his name and blood in his ears is a song he’s become addicted to – each and every muscle in his body is active as he throws one punch after another, dodging and smirking and unleashing the hunger between his shoulder blades when his nose gets broken.
He’s a monster and he adores it.
The crowd is a blur of colours and smudges that represent people. Their voices are an unwavering sea of muffled sounds unable to fully get through the barrier he’s put himself in. What he sees is a ring he’s bound by and a guy who just took a quick step back upon knocking on Jughead’s nose. His nose is throbbing and the guy looks like a blotch of black to him – like a Rorschach test he’s bound to fail. He looks like Betty’s face when Jughead spat those words at her and his cheek is pulsating underneath her touch again.
Jughead shivers and puts his hands down, staring at his opponent. Every part of him feels like its vibrating and he stretches his neck, moves his fingers and targets. Targets.
Lunges.
It doesn’t last long after that. The room smells like sweat and blood and Jughead’s bandages are ripped, along with a part of skin below his right eye. He spits on the ground and a little bit of blood comes out, so he wipes it. He wipes his nose with a tissue and every other injured area he can see.
His opponent—Jughead learned his name is, ironically, Rorschach—is lying unconscious beneath his feet. He’s in a much worse state, with several ribs bound to be broken, nose out of its place, swollen eye and possible internal bleeding in his stomach from the time he hit Jughead a little bit too hard and earned himself a knee in the stomach.
Someone jumps into the ring. Jughead registers that people are cheering and booing, and giving each other money.
The person pushes him. “You could’ve fuckin’ killed him.”
“He could’ve handed over the match,” Jughead retorts. He stands still even though the guy tries to push him again; all that bothered him since Betty’s arrival that evening was gone and the monster perished somewhere along the punches. “He’s a good fighter and it was a fair fight.”
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare say it was a fair fight,” the guy tells him. He’s point a finger at Jughead, not having glanced up the unconscious fighter even once – something that makes Jughead doubt he was the problem. “He was barely standing on his feet and he couldn’t fight anymore—”
“That’s when people hand over, dude. If he thought he couldn’t, he would’ve handed over or had his ass kicked because of his pride,” Jughead says. His nose starts bleeding again so he puts the tissue below it, pressing lightly and trying not to wince at the pain. “It’s not my problem you bet on the wrong guy.”
The guy lunges and misses. Jughead doesn’t, so there’s three men with bloodied noses in the ring.
Jughead hands him a clean tissue. “Take this and fuck off.”
Without another word, he walks out of the ring. He’s limping a little, but he figures it’s not bad enough to call Harvey for a ride, and he has Oxycodone in his bag. Nearly every part of his body is in some amount of pain, but the severest is his head, throbbing with each step he takes.
Some people pat him on the back, thinking him for earning them money. Jughead ignores them and he ignores the ones pushing him for making them lose their money; those who come to compliment him on his fighting he thanks, and those who ask him how he’s doing he lies to.
It’s been three years. He’s become a pro in this.
One of the guys who helped out with the organisation of the events walks up to him and immediately takes hold of his arm. Jughead leans into him and McAdams helps him get to the changing room.
“You stink,” McAdams tells him. “You were good today.”
McAdams sits on one of the benches and plays with Jughead’s spare pair of bandages. The fighter glances at his could-be-called-coach, taking a shower gel and a towel from his bag. He goes into the bathroom and turns on the shower. The water is hot and it burns, especially where he got hit, and he enjoys it more than he should. With closed eyes, he pretends what he’s feeling aren’t boxing injuries and that his knuckles aren’t bloodied from doing the same to someone else.
He thinks about water. How much he would love it to fill the entire bathroom and swim in it for a while; how he’d feel like a little baby, safe and floating and nothing would matter. No Riverdale, no New York, nothing.
He thinks about it but turns off the shower and the moment is gone.
With just a towel wrapped around him, Jughead enters the changing room. McAdams is still there, lying on a bench and humming to himself, not batting an eye to him. Minutes later, Jughead’s ready to go.
McAdams hands him a water bottle and Oxycodone. Doesn’t ask where he got it, because questions aren’t a concept around here.
Jughead takes it. It hurts his throat and he knows he’ll vomit later, but it’ll be worth it if the pain lessens.
“You can’t walk like this,” says McAdams. “Let me give you a lift.”
“No.”
“I’m your friend.”
“You’re not.” Jughead puts the dirty clothes into the bag and zips it, pulling on his coat. As soon as the bag’s over his shoulders, he’s out the door, with McAdams behind him and a little softer limp beneath him. “I can walk.”
McAdams puts a hand on his shoulder. Jughead clenches his teeth and shakes it off, but all McAdams does is glare at him. “I’ve know you for ages and I know nothing about you.”
Most of the people are gone by now, as Jughead was the last match of the day. He guesses the earlier ones weren’t as entertaining – the best on the repertoire is usually saved for the last. Some of those who stay are a part of the organisation and are cleaning up, and Jughead nods at the bouncer who’s moping the floor.
He and McAdams arrive to the booth near the entrance. It’s big enough for two men to comfortably sit in, but only one is here today and he’s grinning at Jughead.
“Two grand,” says Delgado. He hands the money through the hole in the glass and Jughead takes it.
He counts the numbers. It’s two thousand dollars. He puts it in his bag and looks at Delgado with tense shoulders and a mathematical problem running inside his mind. Delgado notices something’s up but waits for Jughead to say it, and Jughead feels a strong wave of hatred for the man.
He’s barely in his thirties, but could easily pass for a Godfather cast member.
“I thought it’d be seven grand,” Jughead tells him.
“They took the rest.”
Jughead nods. If they took the rest, then there’s no arguing.
He looks to his left but McAdams is gone and he breathes a sigh of relief. With Delgado he parts with a nod and before anyone else can jump him up, he’s out of the basement.
The building his little fight club is situated in is a corporate one, ran by the same guy who runs the club. It’s massive and well respected and as much as he’d like to call it a farce, he knows the guy’s successful both legally and illegally. Unlike him, Jughead can only wish to be as successful legally as he is illegally.
It takes him a little over an hour to get home. Oxycodone gave him a lift and he’s feeling all right, but he’s still himself enough to know he can’t push over his limits – so he walks a little slower, even though he could probably walk even faster.
It’s a drug, Jughead knows it, and he can’t think—everything is a little hazy—but he thinks he once worried he was getting addicted to it. To say it’s not a lovely feeling being on it would be a lie and he knows it, because any state where his past and his present and his potential future doesn’t cause him as much anxiety as it always does is a blissful state he would love to remain in forever.
He takes Oxycodone as little as he can. Sometimes, it’s what he depends on to survive.
With two grand in his bag and a drug in his bloodstream, Jughead stops at the corner where he finds some small newsstand. He pretends to check the offer for a couple of seconds, while he’s really waiting for his head to stop spinning so he can figure out what the hell he’s seeing.
“Malboro red,” Jughead says. Or, slurs.
The guy behind the stand eyes him up and down, probably staring at his broken nose or cut beneath his eye or some other spot where he got fucked up. Jughead waits there and eventually, he gets his cigarettes scan and pays for them with a hundred-dollar bill.
The guy raises his eyebrows.
Jughead sighs. Looks around. “And Snickers, too.”
Something chimes.
“Anything else?”
“And . . . a bottle of Jack Daniels.” It’s a split moment decision, just one of many he does today. “I know you sell it.”
“You over twenty-one?”
“Just give me the goddamn whiskey, man.”
The guy mutters something Jughead doesn’t catch and crouches, then comes back with two bottles of Jack Daniels. When Jughead raises his eyebrows at him, he says: “You look like you’re going through some ‘ruff time, man. One’s not gonna be ‘nuff.”
“Thanks.”
About ten minutes later, he’s home. He unlocks the front door with his key and it takes him nearly as long to get to the apartment, but he’s still standing on his feet when Harvey opens the door so he thinks he’s just all right.
“Jesus Christ,” Harvey says.
Jughead staggers forward, past Harvey, and into the apartment. He sets the untouched alcohol on the bar and plops down into one of the chairs, with an unlit cigarette between his teeth and his bag beside his feet.
“You look like shit,” Harvey says. He leaves and comes back a minute later with the medical equipment they have at the ready. Sitting down on the nearest chair, Harvey pulls himself closer to Jughead and looks at his face. “Are you going to smoke?”
“Haven’t decided yet.”
That was what Harvey needed to hear, so he takes the cigarette out of Jughead’s mouth and places it on the bar, because Jughead isn’t in the state to do it himself.
Through his a little less hazy vision and a little more pain, Jughead can see Harvey was waiting for him. There are dark circles beneath his eyes and the entire living room smells like he’s had at least two cups of coffee and a shit ton of paint whose smell he can’t get rid of even by opening all the windows. His hair is tousled, too, and he’s wearing a sweater and sweatpants instead of pyjamas. But he’s wide awake – or at least he became wide awake upon seeing what state Jughead came home in.
“Take off your clothes,” demands Harvey. His voice sound heavy and they both know neither of them wants to do this.
Jughead feels like he should make a joke about this, but his brain is too preoccupied with trying to ignore what’s happening to his body. He obliges, takes his shirt off with his friend’s help and tries not to wince every time he touches a part of skin that’s anything but pale beige.
Harvey lets out a string of swears which only get more creative and intense in pronunciation when Jughead takes off his pants.
Soft laugh comes from the fighter. “Now I’m not that different than one of your canvases, eh?”
Harvey clenches his jaw and gives Jughead a long, somewhat significant look he can’t decipher. “Are you high?”
“No, just a little buzzed. I’m on Oxycodone. As much as I needed to get me through the night,” Jughead says – or at least he thinks that what he says. It comes out slurred and not entirely comprehensible, but he’s sure Harvey gets the gist.
He always does.
When Harvey warms up his fingers and rubs Jughead’s bruises with some lotion or cream or whatever it is he uses to soothe the pain and make them heal faster, Jughead straightens his back. It hurts a little and he clenches his teeth, then relaxed them and says: “I got you some booze.”
A moment of silence passes, then Harvey takes another amount of lotion and applies it to Jughead’s side, right around the kidneys. “You sure you don’t have internal bleeding?”
“Yes. It doesn’t feel like that.”
“It’s pretty bad, though.”
“We’re going to need booze, Harvey. You can’t stitch me up if your hands are shaking.”
“What you need to do is go to the damn hospital, for once.”
Jughead shifts to the right and Harvey starts applying the lotion to the lower part of his back; it’s getting cold and hurts a little, but Jughead keeps mum about it. “They’d ask too many questions.”
“Jones, are you even aware of what kind of mess you are right now?”
With closed eyes, Jughead goes back to the blissful moments under the shower and wonders if he’s ever going to feel the pain the same way – like something that needs fixing, and not something that proves to him he’s still alive and kicking and helping. He recalls the hot water gliding down his body as he examined his injuries, with tears in his eyes every time he’d discover a new one and a new sting of pain would follow.
It’s just a list to him and he says it like that. “Entire left side is covered in bruises and the biggest one is a perfect shape of my opponent’s knee. My ribs hurt just a little, so they’re not broken. I’ll need stitches on my nose when you fix it, and stitches below my eye. My right ankle isn’t doing so well, I twisted it but I can still walk so it’s good. The skin on my knuckles ripped open and I’ll need to wear a different kind of bandages to heal it, but nothing I’m not used to. My back hurts, though, I couldn’t see that, but I think it’s just a massive bruise. Nothing cracked, there’s just one cut on my thigh that might need stitches, it’s quite deep, but that’s it. Nothing cracked. Nothing is irreparable.”
Harvey shakes his head and closes the tube, then puts it away. He looks defeated, or disappointed, or something third – Jughead’s world is now getting a little hazy from the pain he’s endured, and his thoughts are starting to lose any string of sense.
Soft hands touch his face, push his hair back. The hands are sticky, but it’s him who’s sweating.
“Jones, I wasn’t talking about that mess.”
Normal Jughead would understand the implications of this, he’s aware of that, but he barely knows what’s two and two – he might’ve gotten a concussion. Or not, hopefully, because he hasn’t vomited.
“What mess, then?”
Harvey’s lips tighter and eyes soften; he doesn’t want to say it. “I was talking about Betty.” He waits for a reaction and when none comes, he continues, “She came by about half an hour after you left. Told me what just happened between the two of you and told me to tell you to answer her calls. You left your phone at home and I didn’t tell her that, but she’s been texting you several times per hour.”
“I don’t give a fuck about that,” slurs Jughead. “And I don’t want to talk about her.”
“You do care and you need to talk, Jones,” Harvey tells him, firm and soft at the same time. “I know you’re hellbent on forgetting your past and all that, but she’s here now and it doesn���t look like she’s going to leave without answers.”
“Her answers are to fuck off and leave me alone.”
“I don’t believe that,” Harvey says, “and I don’t think you do, either.”
“I do,” Jughead says.
Then he thinks about it and it doesn’t take a psychic or a CIA agent to tell that’s a blatant, horrible lie. But it’s one he would give everything to believe in and for the last five years, he’s almost managed to accomplish it. Day by day and week by week eventually turned into year by year where he was becoming Forsythe Jones known as Jones more than he ever was Jughead Jones known as Jughead. But some parts of him will never die, and some ideas will never be extinguished, and he will always, even the littlest of bits, be a Jughead more than he could be a Jones.
It’s a lie and he’s a liar and that’s the truth he’s trying to make Betty see. He’d prefer to live a miserable life without her than drag her into this and get himself through everything he’s trying so hard to forget.
“My life doesn’t have a place for her,” he says quietly.
Resignation. That’s the only thing he feels before Harvey gives him a shot of Jack Daniels, and takes one for himself.
They spend the rest of the night patching him up.
#riverdale#riverdale fanfiction#riverdale fic#riverdale au#Bughead#bughead fanfiction#fanfiction#future fic#betty#betty cooper#betty x jughead#jughead#jughead jones#toni topaz#m#general#canon#canon divergence#angst#hurt#thriller#romance#action#Season One#riverdale season one#oh lazarus were you so afraid
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There is nothing left of him - Bruce Wayne x Reader
Summary : Batmom is Harvey Dent’s sister, and she...isn’t dealing very well with his Two-Face transformation. Fortunately, her Bruce is here to help...
Hey guys ! So here’s a little story that is...a bit different than what I write usually ? I don’t know if I make sense....It’s also way too fucking long sorry ‘bout that.
Oh and if you guys don’t know much about Two-Face, the “fictional biography” on his wikipedia page will tell you everything you need to know for this story. Written in basically twenty minutes, while watching a film. Anyway, hope you’ll like it :
You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives
________________________________________________
-Oh leave us alone (Y/N) !
-It’s ok Harv’, she’s not doing any harm, she just want to spend time with us.
-But Bruce, she’s a baby !!
You weren’t very tall for your age, and your brother and his best friend were definitely taller than average but...You’d be damn if you were going to let your older brother call you “a baby” ! Outraged by his words, you say :
-I’m not a baby ! I’m six years old !
-And we’re ten, you’re a baby to us !!
-Hu hu I’m noooot !
-You’re acting like one for sure !
-No I don’t ! I’m not the one that wet the bed !
Harvey gives a worried look at his friend but...of course he should know Bruce wasn’t the kind to mock others. Or, he wasn’t that kind of person anymore. Since his parents died, he changed. He laughed less, he smiled less, and he never teased him anymore. He was...different. But still his best friend.
-You can stay with us if you want (Y/N).
Harvey gasps at his friend’s words. Maybe it’s in that moment, that you started to have a crush on him ? Right there and then, as he was about to defend you ? You don’t even remember. It felt like he was always the one that held your heart, even when you didn’t even know what romantic love was yet (and any mention of kissing a boy would gross you out).
-Come on Harvey, your little sister is nice ! If I had a sister, I’d let her hang out with us...
There’s an indescribable sadness in his friend’s eyes, and Harvey stops himself before he can say : “it’s not the same, you would do that because your parents are dead”...He doesn’t say it because he knows how insensitive and mean it is. But he’s not about to let this pass without a fight, they couldn’t hang out with you, you were such a baby !
But he never has the occasion to protest, because his sweet lil’ sis’, you, takes his hand in yours and...His friend is smiling.
Bruce Wayne, whom he almost never saw smiling in those past two years since his parents’ death, that Bruce Wayne...has the widest smile as he looks at you.
In this moment, it was just children sympathy. It was a cute act from a six years old who realized that her brother’s best friend, who was always nice to her, was sad. And so you took his hand, and squeezed it. And he smiled at you because the gesture somehow soothed him.
In this moment, neither you nor Bruce, being kids, felt this particular love that would slowly grow between the two of you...But in this moment, your hand in his was the most comforting thing that ever happened to him since his parents’ death (that and Alfred’s hugs).
************
There’s a darkness in your father, that no one knows but you, your mom and your brother.
You know he doesn’t mean it. You know he’s sick. There’s something wrong in his head. But it still hurts when he yells at you, when he beats you and when he...You have nightmares about it. About that damn coin.
He takes it out whenever he’s in one of “those moods”, which is almost every night. “Tail I win, head you loose” he says, and of course, you have no chance to ever win. Harvey often takes your place. Takes the beating instead of you.
He protects you. In a way, he’s the father you deserve really.
You know it’s not entirely your father’s fault. You know he’s sick. There’s something wrong in his head and...But your brother is always here to protect you. To protect you and your mother. And he’s getting stronger. Though for some reasons, he lets your dad hit him...
It’s because he knows too, that he has a problem. He knows too he’s sick, that something is wrong in his head and...as the years go by, your older brother, Harvey Dent, feels and understands more and more his father, and it terrifies him.
And so he hides it. He hides the fact that he isn’t alright either. That he might be sick too, that something is wrong in his head as well. He hides the fact that he suspects himself to be bipolar and/or schizophrenic. He hides it because...he doesn’t want you to look at him the way you look at your father.
************
8 years later :
They didn’t get murder like his parents, and it wasn’t in front of their eyes but...Bruce understands. Oh he understands them.
He understands that Harvey doesn’t want to speak to him, and he understands the way you’re trying to hide your tears.
He understands how angry your brother is, and how lost you are.
He wishes he could help you, he wishes he could have had stopped that drunk driver who crashed into your parents’ car but...it’s impossible.
Maybe one day he’ll be able to truly help people, to save lives but...Yes. He has to do it. He had planned it for years, but now, it seems to difficult to leave. How can he abandon his best friend and you in this awful moments ?
You just lost your parents. He knows how it feels. He knows you need support, even if you guys might not admit it. And Hell, Harvey and you were there for him all those years, was it right to leave now ?
But he has to. He has a mission. He promised his parents and he knows...He knows it will require sacrifices. But as the funerals end, and Harvey walks past him without even talking to him, he finds it extremely difficult.
And when he sees everyone leaving one by one and you staying behind, like he did at his parents’ funerals...It’s almost impossible for him to just leave.
He approaches you, and you jump as his hand lay on your shoulder. It’s impressive, really, how you manage to smile at him (though there’s a certain sadness in your eyes, that Bruce knows oh too well), even in this moment.
It’s his time now. His time to comfort you, to help you like you helped him all those years. The worst was that you didn't even know you were helping him. You had no idea that only your jokes made him laugh, only your hand squeezing his made him feel better, and only your presence calmed him down. It was all very platonic really (at least at the time, as you were just fourteen and he couldn’t see you as more than a friend yet). He just needed you and this aura surrounding you, that made everyone feel better whenever you opened your mouth.
Your wits and sarcasms were always a sure way to have fun, and you were so damn wise for such a young child, you didn’t know it, but you helped Bruce so much coping with his parents’ death, with your kind words and sayings that just made so much sense...And so it’s his time to help you as you helped him.
He slips his hand in yours, and squeezes it. As you did years before. And he doesn't let go. Oh he doesn’t let go for so long.
By this point, you know you’re doom. Why did this have to happen though ? Why did you have to fall in love with your brother’s best friend ? You know you have no chance. He’s too old for you. He would never look at you that way. But...it’s ok. If you can just enjoy his presence and support, it’s still good, you know ? And so, you squeeze his hand back, and you let yourself go.
It’s the first time he sees you cry. He hopes it’s the last time too.
You don’t see Bruce for almost six years after that.
************
-Drop it (Y/N) !
-I won’t drop it H ! I WON’T ! You know you’re not alright and you need to...
-I DON’T NEED TO DO ANYTHING !
He never screamed at you before. It stops you dead in your tracks. And it makes his heart bleed. No. Not that. He can’t be like that with you out of everyone. But there’s a spark in your eyes. You’re not afraid of him (not yet), you’ll fight for him if need be. And relief washes over him for a split second, until he hears your words :
-Since mom and dad died, you haven’t been the same. Now I saw how Bruce...
-Bruce is gone ! He left years ago and won’t ever come back ! He’s probably dead too !
-Don’t say that, we don’t know what...
-He left without a word at a moment I needed him. He didn’t even say goodbye. And no one knows where he went. And before you say something else, the subject is closed. Mom’s death did change me however. Not dad’s.
-What...What do you mean ?
-I mean he was an abusive cunt. And I don’t miss him. In fact, if I was so angry for months after their funerals, it’s because I never got the chance to be the one that killed him.
There’s a shift in the way he’s standing. As if he’s suddenly a different person. His shoulders hunch slightly, and he stands closer to the shadows in the poorly lighted room you’re both in. And his voice ? It’s lower than usual, and rougher, when he adds :
-I wish I was the one that ran into his car. Better. I wish I was the one to pull the trigger and blow his brain out. I wish..Oh I wish I did so many thing to him. Use his damn coin against him. “Tail I win, head you loose”. Blam Blam. Two shots.
His back is turned away from you. And for the first time in your life, you’re scared of him. As if it’s not him anymore, as if it’s not your loving brother at all...With a shaky voice you try to keep still you say :
-Harvey...This doesn’t sound like you, he was our dad...And he was...he was sick, you know that and...
-It doesn’t excuse everything (Y/N). And I wish you could see that. You’re...Too pure for this world little sis’...
He’s Harvey again. His voice is back to normal, and he’s standing the same way he always has. He smiles at you, of this smile that always meant : “I’ll protect you to death” and he says :
-But don’t worry (Y/N). I’ll always be there for you.
You don’t know what to say. You don’t know if you want to say anything.
You don’t know what to feel. You know in a way he’s right, your father was an abusive cunt but...He was sick. Oh so sick. And not always a terrible man. He had his moment of clarity. Of love. And as your brother approaches you and takes you in his arms, you can't help but recall the way your father used to take you in his arms after one of his fit. To apologize without ever saying there were an actual problem with him. It was both reassuring and terrifying.
It’s the exact same hug Harvey is giving you, as you know the topic of his mental health is closed forever. And you almost regret ever talking about how he needed to take a break, how he needed to open up to you more, how he needed to not overwork himself with college and such. Law school was so demanding, and you could see it take its toll on his mind...You only said that.
And he yelled at you. He never yelled at you before.
And he said those...Things about killing your dad himself.
His grip on you tightens a bit and you take a decision. He doesn’t want to talk about the state of his mind ? Fine. But you’ll make sure to always be there for him, to look out for him, as he did for you all those years.
You’ll never give up on him.
************
Your brother became a district attorney. The youngest one Gotham ever knew. How fitting.
But you never doubt his capacity. He’s always been a genius.
The day he wins his first case, you celebrate it in your favorite coffee shop with all your friends. Or rather, his friends. You became somewhat of a loner, and it was fine by you. You didn’t really need anyone but your brother did you ?
...That was a lie. There was someone you needed. Someone who always knew how to cheer you up. Someone you haven’t seen in years. Someone that was right there, behind the window of the coffee shop. Wait...What ?!
Bruce.
It’s him, there’s no doubt about it. He’s way taller than in your souvenirs, and larger too like damn, when and how did he got so muscular ?
You don’t really know how you got outside but here you are, in his arms, and...yes. It’s Bruce. Most definitely.
Your brother cast him away from his birthday, not ready yet to forgive him. And you follow after him, too curious about what happened all those years...
************
Eventually, Harvey comes around, and invites Bruce out to dinner. They talk. For hours. About what happened all those years. About Harvey’s cases, and Bruce’s need to get away from everything.
He talks about his travels, how it changed him and toughened him up. And you can only agree. He does look changed. For the better or not ? You’re not sure yet.
It’s good, to catch up. Oh you missed him.
And as he looks at you, all grown up now, he realizes that...he missed a lot too. He missed you. And he missed that part where, somewhere along the years, something changed in his heart. He missed that part where his feelings toward you changed...Or maybe it’s because it just happened and he didn’t have time to register it yet ?
What’s sure is that something changed. In a good way, he knows. And the way your smile makes his heart beat faster confirms it...
************
Of course you’d be the target of ill intentioned people.
You were the most prolific district attorney in Gotham’s city history’s sister. You were the closest person from him and a perfect leverage for any case that would happen.
You’re 22 when you’re “finally” kidnapped. You’re walking home, thinking about the last time you saw him...Bruce. It’ll always blow your mind, how, more often than not, he would ignore models just to speak to you. How he’d genuinely smile only to you. Were your brother right ? Did he have a crush on you too ? But that was impossible. He was THE Bruce Wayne. How could he like a plain girl like you ? Right ? ...
It’s the Maroni family, as the trial of one of his bosses arrives : Sal Maroni. He’s charged with many things, and risks life in prison. He can’t allow that. And if he gotta kidnap a kid to blackmail the district attorney ? He’ll do it. He’ve done worst. Way worst. It’s what landed him behind bars really.
And here you are, walking home, when all of a sudden, everything goes black...And you wake up in a warehouse, tied up tight.
Your head hurts so much. Your temples are burning. A gun. The cold barrel of a gun is against your head, and someone says something you can’t understand.
Everything is black again but...You’re not dead. You know that because you can still feel the ropes digging into your skin, and your headache getting worst. When the lights are back again all the men that were around are on the floor, blood smeared on their faces. And a figure. A huge and dark figure approaches you...Somehow, you know you don’t have to be scared.
He cuts the ropes with a bat shaped knife, and you finally get a look at his face when he helps you up and...
-Bruce ?
He freezes as his arms are around you, and slowly turns his head to look at you...
-H...How ?
You just smile and shake your head, before adding :
-But of course. It makes sense. You have the money, a motive and...I’m guessing this six years trip that changed your life was the training ? Of course...it makes sense...You’re the Batman.
Even with his mask, and his eyes hidden, you can decrypt his surprised, stunned expression and you say :
-I’d recognize your jaw anywhere Bruce.
-...My jaw ?
-Yup. Stared at it enough time to...
It’s your turn to freeze, as you realize what you just said. Your cheeks turn a cute shade of red and Bruce...chuckles ?
-Stare uh ? Is that so ? It’s funny, I’m not much of a jaw person...More...lips...Oh my God could you please explain to me (Y/N) how whenever I’m around you, I turn into a total idiot ? How I can be smooth with any women but you ? How my brain turns to mush and...How ?
What was he saying ? It couldn’t be. It was impossible. And yet...It’s true, that the link between you and him always been strong, ever since you were young children. It’s true you’ve always been able to comfort perfectly each other. It’s true...he whips you away, brings you back to the bat cave.
Takes care of your wounds and...your hand is in his. And he squeezes it. It brings up so many pent up feelings, things you hid away in fear of rejection.
Bruce has been home for two years, two years where you spend a lot of times together and...Could it be ?
His lips on yours are an answer enough.
************
Harvey doesn’t take it well.
His BEST friend ? HOW COULD HE ?
How could he takes away his sister’s purity like that ? You were the purest of them all, and he was soiling you by daring to date you. YOU !
He dated so many women, he broke the heart of more than one girl...how dare he try that on you ?
Harvey felt betrayed.
Bruce was taking you away from him, and he couldn’t be trusted because...What proved him that you weren’t just another one of his toy ?!
His fist was bleeding from breaking a window with it. His forearm was in a pretty bad shape too.
Harvey forgave Bruce for abandoning him all those years ago but could he forgive this ? Treason. That’s what it was.
The living room table broke as he hit it repeatedly with all of his chairs...those broke too. As he was thinking about how his best friend’s arm was around you, earlier in the day, as you guys told him you were seeing each others...There goes the fridge, thrown down with all his might. He can hears everything in it breaking and shattering. Good.
The toilet seat gets torn off, and the ceramic explodes as he got hold of a hammer and is beating the material with it.
How dare he ? HOW DARE HE ?!
His parents chest of drawers in his bedroom ? His hammer hits it violently, over and over and over again.
How could he do that to him ? How could he take away his precious sister ?
The chest of drawers is nothing but broken pieces of wood and splinters...
He’s about to attack the TV when his doorbell rings.
Who could it be ? His shoulders are slightly hunched and his eyes have this dangerous air to them as he goes to open his door and...As he puts his head through the crack, hiding the battlefield that was his apartment, his features immediately soften.
You. It’s you. And without Bruce. And you’re asking him if he wants to come and grab a cup of coffee. You’re not gone yet, you’re still here...You’re still here.
************
Bruce holds your hand, squeezing it lightly, and you squeeze back. It’s “your thing”. In tough times. Right before the hugs and kisses. The hand squeeze. It reminds you of better times.
And oh you need it more than ever now.
You just lost the one you always thought would be there for you.
Besides Bruce of course, with whom you always had a special and unexplainable connection. But Bruce ? It almost does’t count, because what links the both of you is unbreakable. Between you and Bruce, as cheesy as it sounds, it’s true love. And nothing could ever alter that.
But that other person, that other one you thought would always look over your shoulder ? He was gone now.
Harvey wasn’t Harvey anymore.
And the worst of it all ? You knew this would come one day or another. You knew that by penting up all his emotions inside him it would happen. That without help it would happen. And yet, you did nothing, just like nobody ever did anything for your father...
And he was gone. Harvey wasn’t Harvey anymore.
He was Two-Face.
************
It happened too fast, Bruce couldn’t be on time. He couldn’t.
He tried to save him, but he was too late.
Fields is the one that gave Sal Maroni the acid. Goddamn corrupted attorney. Now that Harvey was out of the picture, there would be more and more of those...But Bruce would be here.
However, he wasn’t there for Harvey. Again. Too late...
His screams are piercing, gut wrenching. And your face..Bruce spots it amongst the crowd. You always came to all of Harvey’s important cases, to support him. You were always there, somewhere, so that in moments of doubts, he just had to turn around, look at you, and know that he was going to win this thing.
Like today. He needed this strength. He turned towards you and...Burn. Everything burns. Maroni threw something on him. And Bruce was too late, again. He screams.
Your fiancé (he proposed just over a few months ago, and Harvey was finally starting to be OK with this relationship...) spots you in the crowd. And your face makes him want to rush toward you, squeeze your hand, and hold you against his heart.
Horror. Sadness. Distress. Terror. There’s so many feelings in your eyes. And your brother won't stop screaming...
Bruce doesn’t think, and takes Harvey to the nearest hospital.
But it’s too late. He doesn’t know this yet, but his friend is long gone by now...
************
He wakes up the next day, in pain, and he already looks so different. He barely looks at you, though he reacts when you come close to him. He squeezes your hand...but not like Bruce.
It’s not reassuring. It’s not nice. It’s rough and he puts something cold between your fingers...”Tail I win, Head you loose”.
Your father’s coin.
And when he slowly turns his head towards you...
************
It tears your heart apart to have to do such a thing but...it’s for his own good.
You can’t have him turn into your dad. You can’t. After he came home from the hospital, it took you only two visits to his flat to know you had to do it.
He yelled at you. He even slapped you...He regretted it right after, and hugged you but...He slapped you...for no reason but the fact that you came because you were worried, and he didn’t believe you.
How could you be worried about him ? He was a monster now.
You were glad you didn’t bring Bruce along, this too didn’t need to fight more...and you know Bruce would have punched him for even daring to raise his voice at you.
You hug him back, though your cheek is burning, and you caress his back soothingly.
It’s your brother. You’ll always be there for him.
************
You don’t believe your now husband when he tells you but...the facts are in front of your eyes. There’s video evidence.
It’s him.
But it’s not at the same time.
His shoulders are hunched, and though you can’t hear him speak, you know his voice is lower and rougher than it usually is...
Your brother, isn’t quite your brother anymore.
************
You understand that Bruce has to catch him. But you convince him to let you try to convince him...which goes horribly.
And it’s only there, in this moment, that you start to realize it.
To realize he’s not himself at all.
“Tail I win, head you loose”. That’s what he tells you.
You told Bruce the stories, after he asked about the scars that littered your body. You told him about your father and his sickness. The “games” he’d play with you and your brother. And your husband doesn’t let it happen.
As soon as he hears this words, he knows it’ll go wrong.
“Head, you loose”.
A knife. It’s a knife he has in his hand. And it’s heading toward your throat, even though you can see in his eyes a remnant of what he used to be and...he hesitates, right in front of your jugular.
He looks at you. At how terrified you look. That’s how you used to gaze at your father...But, he wasn’t like him was he ?
Pain. That’s all he feels now, and as the charred part of his face reminds him of that, he loose himself again and his knife is ready to hit you...But Bruce saves you.
It’s enough. It’s enough. He’s not him anymore.
But you still have hopes. You still do. You will always have hope...
************
He was suppose to always have your back. And you his.
And in a sense, you still do...but not in the way you wished.
It’s all over the news. “Harvey Dent, famed and respected district attorney turns crazy, robs every bank in Gotham and kills dozens”.
It’s often followed by : “His sister, (Y/N) Wayne, devastated”...You hate it. But they’re right. You are devastated.
You have his back today, only, not like you wished. You’re sitting in the “public” area of Gotham’s court, witnessing your brother being accused of all the crimes he committed, each new accusations digging a knife deeper inside your heart.
His eyes lock on yours. And it’s not the love you’re used to see in them that you see right now, it’s not the benevolence and affection, his smile isn’t wide and true...It’s wicked, crooked, half. And his eyes are full of...You can’t even think about it. You can’t believe your brother feels that way about you...And yet.
It is. It is hatred. Bruce would recognize this feeling anywhere. And today, his hand squeezing yours can’t do much for you.
And as somehow, Harvey manages to gets free of his guardians and runs towards you, staring into your eyes, grabbing your shirt and just utters :
-WHy did you left me (Y/N) ? Why did you abandon me ? Are you scared (Y/N) ? Do you want to put two bullets through my brain, like I wanted to do to dad ? Are you scared of me (Y/N) ? Are you ? ...Who are you ? WHO ARE YOU ?!
With Bruce’s help, the guards get hold of him again, and take him away as his trial is over...But his screams will haunt you forever. “Who are you ?”, “you gave up on me”...It was a mix of him not even knowing who you were, and him only remembering you because you gave up on him.
************
The ride back home to Wayne Manor was silent. Heavy.
Until you say :
-There’s nothing left of him, Bruce. Nothing.
And he can only reach for the hand that is on your thigh, and squeeze it...You squeeze back, and look at him, surprised, as he obviously isn’t taking the road toward the mansion.
************
Bruce parks the car on an almost empty parking lot.
The docks.
You’re on the docks.
A place you, Bruce and your brother always loved to hang out (or rather, Bruce and Harvey hung out around, and you followed admiring their every move).
Bruce takes your hand and leads you to one of your favorite place in Gotham. You’re weak in his arms as he wraps them around you, and you snuggle closer to him. Feeling his soothing warmth.
You don’t exchange a word. You just stay together, there, in a place full of good memories, in each other’s arms, the wind masking your cries.
-My brother is gone. There’s nothing left of him...
Bruce keeps you in his arms. Tight. His face buried in your hair. Because he knows that, now, he’s the only one left that have your back.
The only one left to support your every step.
The only one left to love you...
The only one that would always be there, no matter what, and that by a single squeeze of his hand could make you feel better.
Your brother was indeed no more. Nothing was left of his past self, but fleeting and terrible moments of clarity. The worst times of them all, when you went and visited him and he remembered...he remembered who he was.
He remembered Harvey Dent, for a minute maximum usually. For a few seconds more often than not, and rarely nowadays, he would remember. He would know which one he was, not Two-Face, but Harvey Dent. He would ask for you, and most of the time, you wouldn’t be there because...You finally gave up.
It was only a few seconds each time. And it happened so rarely. It was torture to witness those moments of clarity. He would ask you to kill him, to end his misery, to...And then he wouldn’t be himself again, and would either attack you or : “Tail I win, head you loose”.
Arkham Asylum became a place where you never went anymore. Your husband did, to check on your brother, and your sons too, later...But you ? You couldn’t.
You couldn’t handle it. He would never be back. No amount of medicine and support could bring him back. The day Sal Maroni threw acid on him was the end. It threw him over the edge, without one chance of getting back. It took you years to realize that and...eventually the promise you mad to each others was broken.
It wasn’t his fault, he was sick, he wasn’t right in the head...He didn’t meant to give up on you. And you ? Who could blame you ? You couldn’t see him like this, you couldn’t see your beloved brother in such a state...
No one blamed you. Not even him, in his moment of clarity. Because he knew. He knew that most of the times : he was no more.
There was nothing left of him.
************
Years later, when Jason arrives in your home, you make sure to make him and Dick understand that brotherly love is important. That it means you always have someone to have your back. You make sure to teach your sons, all four of them, that they need each other, that they are stronger all together.
Sure it wasn’t always easy, especially between your youngest, Tim and Damian but...ultimately, you knew they understood. You knew they knew you were right, and were proven so every night out there. It was such a comfort, to know that there would always be someone for them.
You make sure they know how important this is, and you hope to every higher power in existence that they’ll never have to go through what you went through. To see one of the strongest and most important person in your life breaking. To look into their eyes and to find...nothing left of what they used to be. To realize half of the time they don’t even remember who you are. To know they’ll never be the same. They changed. Forever.
There is nothing left of the brother you once knew. Nothing.
_____________________________
I fear this doesn’t make sense ? I had no idea where I was going with this initially, just kinda had the idea of Batmom being Harvey’s sister and...improvised...badly. Uh *resisting the urge to make a negative critic of her own work*. Realized it’s probably more about Harvey and reader than Bruce and reader and I’m sorry.
#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne fanfiction#batman x reader#batman oneshot#batfam#batfam x reader#Batman imagine#Bruce Wayne reader insert#Batman reader insert#Batmom#Batmom x Bruce Wayne#Two Face x Reader#Harvey Dent x Reader#Batman fanfic#Bruce Wayne fanfic#fluff#a bit of angst#Harvey Dent's sister
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7.10 post ep based on the song only love can hurt like this by Paloma Faith
“Timing”
A/N: The idea for this story came when I saw this video (slightly spoilery) on twitter (the first part is new, the second was filmed before, but is likely from the same episode). Anyway, ideas started rolling and this story was born. I also incorporated the lyrics to this song because I think it more than fits the theme. I also have another take on this possible darvey scenario written here.
Say I wouldn’t care if you walked away,But every time you’re there I’m begging you to stay,When you come close I just trembleAnd every time, every time you go,It’s like a knife that cuts right through my soulOnly love, only love can hurt like this
He knows something is off the second he steps off the elevator, the air around him thick and palpable. Harvey makes his way further into the space of the firm, catching the eyes of everyone around him, noticing how they give him a solemn glance before quickly looking away, almost in shame.
His forehead knits in confusion and just a touch of agitation as he continues to make his way to his office, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach for a reason he can’t quite discern.
Entering his office, he sees it almost immediately. The small silver device too familiar to his senses for him to miss.
There, sitting on top of his desk, is the can opener.
Harvey feels his throat go dry. He knows things haven’t been good between them lately, they’ve barely been civil. Almost two weeks to the day since she had waltzed up to him, kissing him without a moment of hesitation. He had stood there, numbed and speechless for what felt like hours, before any of his senses could awaken and he was able to make his way out, to look for her.
They had fought- a lot. They argued more in the last two weeks than they’ve had in the twelve plus years they’ve known each other. He’d been so angry, though, angry at her, angry at the situation, angry at himself….
He knows he had screwed up continuously in the last thirteen days, the way he had treated her making his nights sleepless and his dreams painful. Blame had fallen off his lips in waves every time he saw her, seemingly ignoring the way her eyes would well up, her voice would shake… He couldn’t seem to fathom how he let things get this bad so quickly, it wasn’t like he didn’t love-
But it was complicated. They were complicated. There was too much too lose, too much of a past and too much of an unknown future. Harvey didn’t like unknown, he liked predictable. Except he’s always known she was anything but.
Donna Paulsen will forever remain an enigma in his eyes- a vision of all that is good and pure whilst remaining mysterious in all her wit and charm. He still didn’t know why she had kissed him. He knows, she had told him, but he couldn’t for the life of him understand why now, after all this time, when he was with Paula, when she knew full well how he felt about cheating….
Yet, he knew the anger he held inside, that had been directed at her, had been purely to mask his own fear and confusion.
His hand shakes as he lifts the can opener, their can opener. Over a decade’s worth of a history between them in his hand, the very weight of it feeling heavier now. Before he can try to decipher the meaning of her leaving it on his desk, he sees the envelope. Her all-too distinguishable handwriting staring back at him.
Harvey.
One word, six letters, and his heart was in shambles. He didn’t need to open the letter to know what was inside, but still he did.
He ignores the way his hand shakes, ripping the letter apart as quickly and carefully as possible as to not tear the contents it held inside.
He swallows back the tears that were pricking behind his eyes, finding two letters before him. Taking both of them out, he quickly identifies one as a formal resignation letter. He feels his world spinning then, despite the fact that he expected this, he still felt his vision fogging up, his heart squeezing in its current confinement. He skims the letter quickly, turning his attention to the other letter he held in his hand.
Harvey,
He feels his head throbbing, a tear finding its way to the corner of his eye.
This isn’t easy for me to write, as I know this won’t be easy for you to read either. You have to understand, that I tried so hard to move on, from you, from us. I tried to ignore what we had- abided by the rule I had set all those years before. But, Harvey, there comes a point when you can’t ignore anymore. When you can’t let go of the past just for the off chance that maybe things could turn out differently. I never meant to hurt you when I kissed you, you have to know that. I knew you were with Paula, I know that kissing you brought on too many feelings of anger and resentment, but I had to. I’ve stood by your side for longer than I’ve ever stood by anyone. I kept putting you first, because that’s what you do for the person you love.
Harvey closes his eyes for a moment, letting the words wash over him, his throat constricting too tight, making it harder for him to breath.
I know you love me too, in whatever way you say you do. A part of me thought- hoped- that maybe you would see me in the way I see you. Love me in the way I love you. And perhaps you did, but it’s clear to me now we don’t want the same things. I can’t make you understand why I did what I did. I know I told you I had to know- know that I did want to be with you, know that you felt something for me too. And I did feel something when you kissed me, or at least I thought I did. But I don’t know, I can’t be sure of that, not when you look at me like you’ve been doing so for the past two weeks. Not when you’ve been blaming me for your break up… The only thing I do know is that I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep playing this game with you when I only end up losing in the end.
Jessica offered me a job at her new firm, in Chicago. I decided to take it. It pains me to do this, to leave my family, my friends, you… but I need to move on. I have to. And I’m sorry it has to be this way, but I have to put myself first. I have to be able to try and be happy, because as much as I tried, I can’t be happy with you there. Not with the way you look at me every time I walk into work, not with the knowledge that maybe we never really were meant to be. I don’t regret a single moment I spent with you, but this is where it must end. Maybe I won’t ever stop loving you, but I have to try. My flight for Chicago leaves in a couple of hours, so I have to wrap this up now.
Just remember one thing, Harvey, for all the things I’ve claimed to have known over the years, I never knew how much I could ever love you.
-Donna
The world before him blurs suddenly, his head is spinning and a vile taste creeps into his mouth. He tries to tamper down the nausea that overwhelms him, tears clouding his vision, making the words below him start to blend.
She was leaving him, for good. She wasn’t going to work for Louis down the hall, she wasn’t taking a new position at the firm, leaving her a good few feet away from his own office. She resigned. She was moving. To Chicago.
He checks his watch, suddenly, noting that it was already eight fifteen. He realizes he doesn’t know what time Donna must’ve dropped this off at his desk. He’d been at a meeting with a client for the past two hours, the minutes dragging on as he only half-focused on what they were saying, too distracted thinking about her. Again.
Something snaps in him then, and he finds himself sprinting out the door, jogging his way to the elevators. He clutches her letter in his hand, unable to quite loosen the visceral grip on the paper that held her words to him.
I never knew how much I could love you.
His eyes are stinging with the manner in which he tries to keep more tears at bay, not wanting anyone at the firm to catch him in his vulnerable state.
He sighs in relief when the elevator doors open before him, thankful to be alone, not in the mood or mindset to have unimportant small talk with anyone right now.
When he gets to the lobby, his heart beating against his chest, he starts a jog as he subconsciously looks outside the glass windows, trying and hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of red hair. Though, knowing his own damn luck, she would be far gone by now.
He tries to flag down a cab, eyes and movements frantic as he curses under his breath, impatience running through his veins.
When one manages to stop in front of him, he all but jumps inside, the words “JFK airport” escaping his lips in one breath.
He doesn’t even know if that’s where she’ll be. If she went home first to grab a few things. If she already left….
He takes out his phone then, finding her contact in five seconds flat, and waits. He curses under his breath when it goes straight to voice mail, shoving the device into his pocket again.
Harvey takes this moment to close his eyes, hand still gripping the letter she wrote.
I never meant to hurt you.
He somehow manages not to let out a sob, remembering the words she had written him, filled with too much honestly and pain. He should be the one apologizing, he is the one who never meant to hurt her. He should’ve done something, said something. Guilt resides in him, drowning him from the inside out, numbing his every sense. He’d been such an idiot, a goddamn asshole to her the past few weeks. Too damn scared and blind and angry, too much of a fucking coward to notice how much he had been hurting her, to see that she had been slipping from his grasp more and more everyday….
It’s not until the cab driver stops the car that he notices they’re parked right in front of the airport. He mumbles out a “thanks” and drops a fifty on the man’s lap, sprinting out the door before making his way inside.
He had to buy a goddamn ticket. But it’s not the money he had to spend that annoys him, the mere fact that every second he loses stretches the possibility of him not finding her at all. He takes comfort in the fact that there were currently only three flights to Chicago, all set to leave within an hour. Still, paranoia sits low in his stomach, too many variables standing in the way of him getting to her.
Jogging his way to the designated gate, his eyes roam the area, trying to catch a glimpse of her, knowing she wouldn’t be hard to miss. When he sees the numbers come into view, he halts to a full stop, his heart beating erratically. He surveys the area, jumping from one person to another sitting and waiting for their flight.
Nothing. No sign of red hair. No sign of Donna. The weight of her letter, now sitting on the inside pocket of his jacket, right beside his heart, grows heavier with every second.
“Dammit, Donna, where are you?” He mumbles under his breath, frustration and fear seeping into him all at once.
Harvey scans the area once more, hoping he may have missed her in the sea of people, but there weren’t even that many to begin with.
Sighing, he starts to turn around, a new plan forming in his mind to try and track her down. Maybe Rachel knows where she is….
Just as he’s about to walk out, head deeper in the labyrinth that was the airport, he sees her. Unmistakable, poised, elegant, Donna, right in front of him.
Her eyes are wide as she stares at him, feet frozen in place, breathing shallow. A myriad of emotions fill her- confusion, anger, a slight ounce of hope she quickly tries to tamper down….
“Harvey, what are you-”
His lips are on her then, hands cupping her cheeks, angling her face to his in a way that allows him to keep her in place.
Her body goes numb for a second, lips still against his own, too shocked to react in any form. It’s not until she feels an arm wrapping around her, pulling her flush against his chest that she comes to life. Dropping the bags she held, she kisses him back just as fiercely, if not more, her arms winding around him. Their mouths open at once, together, letting their tongues slide and duel against one another.
Donna feels hot tears against her eyelids, the feelings welling up inside spilling out without her consent, trailing down her cheeks, meeting her lips, still fused to his.
She parts from him then, the need for oxygen becoming too apparent and overwhelming, her tears making it harder for her to breathe.
When she opens her eyes, she has to blink a few times against the wetness, in order to see him in full. His own brown eyes are clouded over, cheeks stained with the tears that he had let fall in the last minute or so.
“Harvey…” Her voice is hoarse when she speaks, low and broken, too many questions dripping with every syllable.
“Don’t leave,” he speaks at once, head shaking, his nose a mere centimeter from her own, “Don’t- don’t leave me, Donna.”
She feels more hot tears springing to her eyes, her vision becoming less clear by the second. Her mouth opens, but no words come out, trapped in her throat.
“I don’t- I can’t lose you.” His voice is watery, fighting against the emotions welling up inside his chest, failing more every second with each new wave of tears that fall. His left hand still cradling her cheek wipes a few tears away, his thumb continuously caressing her skin.
She closes her eyes, trying her best to compose herself, an array of emotions making it more difficult to set her heart and mind at ease. “Harvey-” She tries again, but when her eyes open and she sees his all-too familiar face, staring back at her, tears in his red-rimmed eyes, she feels her face crumpling further.
His forehead meets hers, their eyes closing simultaneously, and for a moment they just remain in that position- breathing slow and shallow, mingling in their proximity.
“I love you.” The words fall from his lips, easy and difficult all at the same time. He feels her stiffen against him and he makes sure he has a good hold on her, fear of her leaving his grasp too great. “I love you- so much.” Harvey whispers. The emotions that well up inside of him not allowing him to take his voice an octave higher.
Donna grips his biceps then, the need to hold onto something, to him, too much for her. “Why are you doing this?” Her words surprise him, low and dripping with too much pain, and he feels like he could pass out any second.
His eyes shoot open, glancing to see her own closed tightly, her eyelashes lined with tiny tear drops. Swallowing, he lifts her chin up, angling her face to his.
“Donna,” he speaks slowly, “Donna, look at me,” her eyes flutter open, hazel orbs meeting his, “I’m a goddamn idiot.”
She stares at him, forehead knitting at his words, watching how his jaw clenches.
“I never should have- I treated you like shit.” He spits out, disgust in himself, flashbacks of the past few weeks washing over him. “I was just- so angry that I-”
“Blamed me for everything.” Donna finishes for him softly.
He shakes his head, the grip on her tightening still. “I never meant to- I don’t- I was angry at myself. I took it out on you, and- there’s no excuse for that, and I’m so so sorry, Donna.” His voice shakes as more tears flow down his cheeks.
Confusion clouds her mind, a mix of emotions and desires trying to one up the other continuously. “Harvey, I can’t-”
“Can’t what?” Anxiety oozes from his words, eyes searching her face for the answers he desperately seeks.
“I can’t- be who you want me to be. I can’t keep doing this.”
His forehead knits, bewilderment shadowing his face. “I don’t-”
“You tell me you need me, and you push me out. You start having panic attacks when I leave to go work for Louis. I tell you I want more and you go to her.”
“I’m here now.” He defends, voice trying to remain steady, his gaze pleading with her to understand, to believe.
Donna shakes her head. “It’s-”
“Don’t tell me it’s too late, Donna, don’t. Please.” Fear drips with every breath, crippling him to the spot.
“I love you, Harvey, I do, but-”
“But what?” Frustration bubbles in him now, floating at the surface.
“But- you’re only doing this because you’re scared. You don’t want to lose the firm’s COO, you don’t want me to leave you high and dry…”
“You’re damn right I’m scared, but I don’t give a shit about the firm, I care about you. Can’t you see that?” His eyes plead with her, voice low and desperate.
“I see a man who’s hurt me for the past two weeks. Who blamed me for cheating, for his break up with his girlfriend. Who treated me like shit for whatever goddamn reason he’s turned into an excuse.”
“I told you, I’m sorry.”
“That’s not enough, Harvey.”
“Of course it’s not enough!” His shout takes her by surprise, flinching slightly at the higher octave of his words. “It’s never enough! I’m not enough,” The grip he had on her loosens then, arms flailing about, catching the attention of the few patrons around them. Neither notice, however, the world around them blurring into dust.
She stares at him wide-eyed now, watching the way his breaths come out short, his tear stained cheeks turning red. “Goddammit, Donna, I don’t deserve you. I never did. I doubt I ever will.” Defeat leaves his lips, voice cracked and small, head shaking as he watches the surprise in her eyes stare back at him. “You deserve the world, you deserve everything, and I know I can’t give you that, can’t ever be what you deserve, but I want to be the one who tries.” He takes a moment to breathe then, taking a tentative step toward her again.
“You were right, you have been putting me before yourself for over twelve years, always being there for me, while I just expected you to be at my every beck and call. It wasn’t fair, the way you would put my needs before yours- it wasn’t right.”
His words are hitting her in full, a massive blow to her emotions with every breath he takes.
“When you told me you wanted more, I panicked. I didn’t know what you meant. I thought maybe, at first you meant us, and the idea of it just scared me because I knew I could screw it up within moments. As long as we were working together, side by side, it was fine, we were fine. But we weren’t.” He lets out sigh of defeat, of exhaustion filled with shame and regret.
He takes another step toward her, taking her hands in his own. “I know I can’t stop you from leaving, I know this is your decision to make, but know that I don’t give a shit about anything else in this world except you. Nothing matters if you’re not here, by my side- as my COO, my friend, my anything, my everything.”
Harvey waits a beat to gauge her reaction, watching as the tears fall freely from her eyes, and he feels himself sinking lower into the ground.
“You once asked me how I love you, but I didn’t know how to respond,” he lets out a breath, standing a little straighter. “Ask me again.” He whispers.
Her head shakes sightly. “Harvey-”
“Please.” His eyes are soft and pained, boring into her own.
Donna clears her throat, voice low and shaky. “Love me how?”
Harvey cups her cheek then, his other hand splayed at the small of her back, pulling her closer to him. He makes sure his eyes are aligned with her own, “Like this.” His lips slant over hers again, need and desperation converted into a slow passion that has her toes curling into her heels. His lips pull and nip at her own, slowly yet fiercely, tongue snaking out in a torturous pace that she feels her own meeting his half way. He pours all of his in love into her, not holding back an ounce of emotion, of need, of want.
A low groan reverberates through him, and she swallows it down immediately, sucking on his tongue, setting a low flame of passion inside of her.
She feels him pulling her closer to him, the gentle way in which he holds her bringing fresh tears pricking against her eyes. He tastes like coffee and warmth and him, the sweet and bitter flavors making her head spin and her knees buckle. She’s thankful for the visceral grip he has on her, gentle but firm, making sure she stays in place, safe in his arms.
Their kisses slowly come to a stop, their lips still pressing against each other, the need to taste each other never dulling.
Harvey plants a lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth, taking the moment to breath her in, hold her to him. He sighs, “I’m not very good with words,” he confesses, eyes opening to meet her own, hooded with desire and love, “and I don’t want to screw things up- further, anyhow,” he shifts in place, making sure he has her full attention, “I don’t expect you to forgive me easily, hell, I can’t even begin to do that, but, know that I do love you, fully and completely, with all of my heart, for as long as I can remember, Donna.”
She swallows against the tears that can’t seem to stay at bay, mentally cursing at the way she must look right now, in the open, exposed to him and the world around them.
“Took you too damn long to realize.” She finally whispers, voice low with a twinge of amusement, despite her serious expression.
His lips quirk ever so slightly in a sad smile. “I know,” he says softly, “and I’m sorry, for everything, just- please, don’t go.” Fear seeps back into him then, not knowing if his words were enough, if anything he says will ever be.
Donna studies his gaze for a moment, letting out a sigh. “I- don’t want to,” she begins, her heart fluttering at the way his face brightens with hope for a moment, “but-“
“No, no buts please.”
“I just need- some time.”
His brow furrows. “Time?”
Donna nods, “Yeah, time.”
“So, you’re still leaving,” Harvey deflates.
She shakes her head, thumb reaching up to caress his lower lip, swollen from their kisses. “No, just- I’m gonna need some time off work.”
His eyes light up slightly again. “Work? Does that mean-”
She lets a small smile line up her face, “You can throw out my resignation letter, Harvey, but I’m still going to need some time off.”
“Haven’t we already wasted enough of that?” His voice is low as he steps even closer to her, his breath hot against her ear and she tries to tamper down the arousal that sits low in her belly then.
“Harvey-” She closes her eyes, trying not to let his touch and voice affect her anymore.
“Donna,” his gaze meets hers again, warm brown meeting dark hazel. “I almost lost you tonight, for good, I don’t want to waste any more time.” He speaks with persistence.
“Harvey, I’m not saying no, I’m just saying, I’m going to need a day, or two, just to wrap my mind around this.” Her eyes plead with him, the idea of spending any kind of time apart from him already pulling at her seems, her lips still tingling from their kiss.
He nods in understanding then. “Okay, I- I’m sorry, I don’t want to push you, I just- I’m scared.”
“Of what?” She speaks softly, reaching her hand up to caress his cheek.
“Of losing you. Of wasting too much time that we can never-”
She shakes her head. “That won’t happen.”
“You sure?” His eyebrows raise, wonder and hope and worry creasing into his features all at once.
“I don’t want to lose you either, Harvey. I’ll stay- I just need to process this. For a little while, anyhow.” Her face is riddled with an ounce of guilt, despite it all. A couple of hours ago, she was angry, hurting, and she was still feeling all those things, but leave it to Harvey Specter to suddenly make her regret the very words she was speaking now. She did need time, but she still didn’t want to leave his side.
“Okay.” He leans over to plant a kiss on her forehead, her eyes closing when his lips meet her skin.
“I do want this.” She tells him softly, eyes glassy.
“I know. So do I.” He gives her a small smile and she resists the urge to kiss his dimples then.
They remain quiet for a second, gazes remaining locked, the reality of what had transpired in the last few minutes hitting them all at once.
“So,” Donna clears her throat, “I take it you got my letter.”
Harvey sighs. “You’re one hell of a writer, Paulsen.”
She smirks slightly, “I just- had to tell you why. Didn’t want to leave without you knowing.”
“I wish you had just told me in person.”
She shakes her head. “I couldn’t- it would’ve been too much.”
He nods in understanding, “Still, would’ve saved us some time.”
“What? And miss the chance to see you coming to profess your love for me in the middle of an airport like some sleazy rom com?” She jokes.
His head tilts in amusement, a flutter in his stomach forming at the way she can toy with him now, after everything.
“You do like a dramatic flare.”
A chuckle escapes her then, making him release his own. It felt good, being able to laugh at each other, at their unconventional way of dealing with things.
“Uh, should we- get going then?” His words come out awkwardly, unsure.
It takes her a moment to realize what he’s saying, mind still reeling from everything that’s transpired. “Oh, uh, yeah.” She disentangles herself from him, suddenly feeling colder, even with the coat that hugged her body. She reaches down to grab her bags, holding one on each hand.
“Here, why don’t I-” Harvey reaches over, grabbing her carry on, while she held onto her purse.
“Oh, thank you.” She gives him a smile, cringing at the way things quickly grew awkward between them.
They quietly make their way out of the airport, Donna studying his face as they walk toward the entrance, catching him looking at her before he looks away, like a couple of teenagers hanging out with their first crush.
They manage to quickly grab a cab, and she lets him take lead, watching him as he spouts her address from memory, the simple action itself somehow making her insides fill with warmth.
When they reach her apartment, a good thirty minutes later, Harvey tells the driver to wait for him, and she momentarily curses herself for telling him she needed time, when all she wants in that moment is him.
“Wait,” she finds herself saying, her words surprising them both.
Harvey looks at her in confusion, concern written in his features. “What is it?”
“I-” she turns to look at the cab driver, “You don’t have to wait for him, he’s staying.”
Before Harvey could protest or question her, she’s pulling out a couple of bills from her purse, handing them to the driver. She manages to grab Harvey by the hand, leading him out of the cab in a near rush.
“Donna, wait,” Harvey manages to finally find his words, shaken out of the daze he had found himself in just moments before.
She stops just short of the door that led them inside her building, copper hair flowing slightly in the the cool breeze of the night.
“I thought you needed some time.” He begins tentatively, trying to measure his words carefully, not wanting to say the wrong thing in the moment, knowing they were still toeing a fine line.
“So did I.” She breathes out, stepping toward him in slow measured steps, stopping when she’s just short of a foot away from him.
Harvey feels himself swallowing, the light from the street lamps catching her eyes just so, making them twinkle with mischief and mirth.
“Donna,” Her name is honey on his tongue, eyes searching her own, trying to decipher her intentions.
“Harvey,” She echoes back, a coy smile on her lips, stepping just an inch closer to him.
“I thought- you said you needed time, to process things, process us.”
A sigh escapes her, and she looks down for a second before looking back into his kind eyes. “You were right, we’ve already wasted too much time.” She tells him softly.
He shakes his head. “Yeah, but, I don’t want to rush you, rush us,” he’s quick to clarify, “If you need more time, I understand. I know I told you otherwise at first, but this is a pretty big step for us.”
“Harvey, we’ve played around with this for thirteen years now, closing on fourteen, I think we’ve had too much time already.”
She’s mere centimeters away from him now, and he feels his body grow hot suddenly, the cool air around them doing nothing to dilute the heat he feels filtering in and around him. “I don’t want this to- I don’t want you to regret anything. And I don’t want you to think I can’t wait for you while you think this through, while you process-”
Her lips are on him, warm and soft against his own. A sigh escapes him, arms wrapping around her on reflect, keeping her close. Before either has a chance to deepen the kiss, she’s pulling back, softly biting down on his lower lip, bringing out a low groan from him.
“Look, I know what I said earlier, but,” she licks her lips, his taste still lingering on her, “I really, really, need you. Right now.”
His throat bobs, eyes dilating as her low and sultry voice reaches him, making his blood rush south. “Are- are you sure?” He asks her, needing for her to clarify.
“Harvey, take me inside.” Donna whispers, voice laden with need and impatience.
He nods dumbly. “Okay.”
He shuts the door with her body, their lips fused together in a tight lock. His hands are roaming through every inch of her, trying and failing to get as close to her as possible. Their coats come off simultaneously, their hands making quirk work of his dress shirt next, lips never parting. She rakes her hands down his bare chest then, nails scratching his abs, a grin forming on her lips when she feels his muscles contracting beneath her.
Harvey turns her around suddenly, hands finding the zipper of her dress, beginning a slow descent, his lips latching onto her exposed skin, sucking on her shoulder blade and neck, anywhere he could find.
“Harvey…” A low moan escapes her, eyes closing out of her own volition, his lips finding that one particular spot on her neck that has her quivering in his arms already.
He presses one last kiss against her freckled skin, the zipper of her dress now all the way down and she immediately shrugs out of it, the material pooling at her feet. She kicks the black dress away, stepping out of her heels in the process.
She turns around to look at him, catches his eyes mapping out the length of her body, dilated and clouded over with arousal and pure unadulterated need.
“You’re- so beautiful.” He breathes out in wonder, his eyes finally meeting her own.
Her heart suddenly jumps a beat, his words having a bigger effect on her than she would like to admit. When he doesn’t move, she takes a step toward him, grabbing his hands and placing them on her bare hips. “Harvey, take me to bed.”
His arms are around her in a flash, guiding her legs around him, hands supporting her weight as he lifts her up, carrying her to her bedroom, a loud gasp leaving her lips at his spontaneous action.
“Impressed?” He breathes against her, guiding her to her room.
“Hmm, more like surprised. You pulled that same move last time, mister.” She teases.
A low chuckle escapes him, reaching her bed and gently depositing her on it, looming over her. “I promise,” he begins softly, hand tracing down her body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, “this time,” he kisses her neck, followed by her cheek, until he reaches her lips, “will be better.”
His bare chest is molded to her back, arms surrounding her naked body, pulled closely against his own.
“Hey, there,” he whispers, lips meeting her clavicle, “you asleep yet?”
“Hmm, you didn’t tire me out that much, Specter.” She chuckles.
His own chuckle leaves his lips, low and vibrating against her back. “I’m not done with you yet.” He whispers against her ear, pleased at the way he feels her shivering in his arms.
She turns around then, her eyes meeting him in the dark of her room. “Look at you all smug,” she pinches his cheek, her grin mirroring his own, Cheshire Cat-like and annoyingly adorable.
Harvey places a kiss against the inside of her wrist, a low hum following. “Tonight was amazing.” He tells her softly.
Her features soften at his words, a small smile playing on her lips. “Yeah, it was.” She still feels her body tingling, aching in all the right places, a heat radiating through every inch of her lithe figure.
“You were particularly amazing.” He pulls her toward him, making her turn in his arms until she was fully facing him.
“And you had a couple of tricks up your sleeve.” Donna tells him, voice impressed.
He wiggles his eyebrows comically, and she lets a loud laugh leave her lips. It was amazing, surreal, honestly, how much things had changed in the last couple of weeks, the last couple of hours in particular. When she had woken up that morning, alone in her bed, after another near sleepless night, she expected to be sleeping in a different bed that night, in another city, miles away from him.
But here she was now, wrapped up in his arms, naked, teasing each other like they used to, except more.
“What are you thinking?” He asks her quietly, hand trailing up and down her arm.
“Hmm?”
“I can hear you thinking pretty loudly there, Donna. You okay?”
She almost laughs at how concerned he sounds. The fact that she’s in bed with her best friend of thirteen years, the man she loves, the man she’s been in love with for the better part of those years, nearly convinced he didn’t love her in the same way, will forever rival any other moment she faces in her life.
“I’m just,” she lets out a small sigh, closing her eyes for a moment, relishing in the warmth that radiated from his skin, “really happy, Harvey.”
A slow smile creeps on him, eyes crinkling as he watches her. Her hair is a tangled mess, yet still flowing down in waves, her pale skin is flushed and her eyes are bright. He doesn’t think she’s ever looked more beautiful.
“Good,” he whispers, leaning over to place a chaste kiss on her lips, “I am too.”
They settle into a comfortable silence, their lips meeting each other lazily between staring each other in the dark, like first time lovers, doing everything they could to take in every moment.
“So… you still going to take some time off?” Harvey muses after a few seconds.
“That depends… do you think you can take some time off too?” She trails a manicured finger up his chest, her eyes landing on his, doe-eyed and innocent-like.
“I think I can manage a day or two.” He murmurs, shifting to pull her closer to him, body aligning his perfectly.
She tangles her legs in his, seeking even more contact with him. “I mean, we do have a lot of catching up to do.”
“Thirteen years worth.” He whispers against her lips, words holding more weight in them than either expected.
“Thank you.” She finds herself telling him.
His forehead knits in confusion. “For what?”
“For going after me, tonight.” Her words are low, almost shy.
His whole demeanor softens, a sigh leaving his lips. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he swallows back the guilt that kept building up in him, “I’m just glad I wasn’t too late.”
“No,” she reaches her hand up, caressing his cheek, “you were right on time.”
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Almost
Harvey chose Paula and Donna walked away once and for all. She hasn’t seen the man who broke her heart in about a year. Until now.
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It had been two years since Donna left New York.
Two years since that fatal kiss with Harvey.
They had argued like they never argued before, spewing ugly words at each other that neither would ever be able to take back. They were a ticking time bomb that had been building for over twelve years and finally, in the wake of Donna’s decision, they exploded.
But for the first time in over twelve years, they had talked. About them.
Millions of conversations that were all overdue, blended into one.
And it ended where he didn’t choose her.
So Donna put herself first for the third time in over a decade and left the firm. Left him.
Harvey protested at first. He fought her on that too. But eventually even he realised that Donna had gotten her heart broken by him one too many times. So he did the selfless thing and let her go.
He let her go when she walked out of her office for the last time.
He let her go when she left the city altogether.
At first, merely seeing Jessica on a daily basis was too much because all she did was remind her of Harvey. But after a while, that raw pain faded into the background. It was still there, haunting her, an ever present companion. However she learned to live with it. After all, it wasn’t as if she had a choice.
Besides, Donna soon found that she really liked her job at Jessica’s firm. She enjoyed working for and with the older woman. And soon she found herself warming up to Chicago. In the beginning it had been nothing more than a reprieve, an escape from the man who had shattered her for the last time. But it crept up on her and one day Donna opened her eyes at six in the morning and realised this was home.
She still kept in touch with Rachel, Mike and Louis. They were family. In fact, the last time she had been in New York was about a year ago, for Mike and Rachel’s wedding where she endured being the maid of honor while Harvey was the best man.
After all the official stuff was over and couples started making their way onto the dance floor, Donna had stood aside, trying desperately to ignore the stab of pain at the sight of Harvey and Paula swaying together. Rachel had soon appeared at her friend’s side, worry in her eyes but Donna swallowed her anguish, putting on the mask she had been wearing for years as she assured the bride that she was fine. Donna could tell that Rachel didn’t believe her and she had to practically drag her back towards Mike herself but she refused to let anything ruin this night for the newlyweds. And a broken hearted Donna Paulsen would certainly diminish Rachel’s happiness.
Now, Donna was once again in the city because of Rachel. She had told her the news of her pregnancy over Skype and Donna insisted they needed to celebrate in person so she hopped on a plane as soon as possible.
At present, both women lounged on the couch, glasses filled with non alcoholic wine. Donna had also insisted on a show of solidarity.
If you can’t drink alcohol then I’m not drinking either. Just for tonight at least.
Rachel had laughed, eyes shining and Donna didn’t think she had ever seen her so happy. Mike had done the smart thing and made himself scarce the minute the red head showed up, claiming he had some work that he needed to finish at the office.
So Donna listened intently as Rachel babbled excitedly about anything and everything concerning babies and it wasn’t long before they started throwing around baby names.
They had filled three pages with girls names alone when Donna realised just how late it was. In the middle of their laughter and raiding the fridge Donna had lost track of time. As she declared that she should be heading back to her hotel, it hit her how much she had missed this. And it was that feeling that began to take root inside her which prompted her to promise to visit more often.
The feeling only strengthened when Donna was out of the house, soaking in the sensation of the New York air as she stood in the middle of the street. She missed this place too.
Caught up in the moment, Donna decided to walk rather than call for a cab, wanting to hold on to the night for a little bit longer. However she had barely made it two steps from Rachel and Mike’s when a familiar car pulled up and out came Harvey Specter.
Donna froze, her legs forgetting how to work as the earth stood still.
She saw the exact second Harvey spotted her, his eyes widening in surprise as he took her in.
He didn’t move either.
Time halted and everything around them fell silent. The stars looked down, waiting for one of them to make a move.
Surprisingly, it was Harvey who took the first step.
He started walking towards her and the movement caused Donna to blink, shaking her out of whatever trance she had briefly fallen into. She made her way towards him as well, trying her best to ignore her pounding heart.
Both of them came to stop a few feet away from each other but it was still close enough to make every hair on Donna’s arms rise.
“Donna,” Harvey said softly in that way, something fluttering in her stomach as an automatic response. “What are you doing here?”
“Rachel told me the news and I just had to fly out,” she replied, using every ounce of her energy to keep her voice composed.
“Yeah. I think she and Mike have bought every baby book in the city.”
“They have. She asked me to tackle the bookstores in Chicago for her next,” Donna quipped immediately because her friends’ house had been overflowing with books.
Harvey smiled, a little thing but it still tugged at the strings of her heart.
She had missed that too.
“Do you like it?” Harvey asked quietly. “Chicago?”
“I do,” she said in earnest. “It’s different from the city. But in a good way.”
Harvey nodded but Donna knew he would never understand. He loved New York too much.
“What about you?” she questioned. “How are things at Specter Litt?”
“You know how it is. One thing after the other.”
“Is managing partner finally taking a toll on you?” Donna teased.
“Me? Never?” Harvey smirked.
“Hm soon all the hair on that pretty little head of yours will be grey.”
“I could say the same for you.”
“Oh please. I’m Donna. I don’t age.”
At that Harvey let out a laugh, one of those rare sounds that she would usually have the pleasure of hearing.
Donna grinned in response, flashing her teeth in a way she hadn’t for about two years. Warmth swiftly filled her up from her head to her toes.
She had missed being the one to make him laugh.
The two of them stood there, looking at each other with the corners of their mouths turned up. He was staring at her the way he used to, the way that set her on fire and oh it still did.
It could have been any other night. A night where they both left the firm long after everyone else, working a case to the bone. A night where Harvey would generously give Donna the car because he felt like walking.
A night where Harvey would wait for her with flowers, proclaiming I’m a Donna fan, three words that made her heart soar.
For a few minutes, they were Harvey and Donna again and she let herself get lost in his eyes one more time as a slight breeze caressed her skin.
Standing on the sidewalk beneath the sky Donna felt herself beginning to fall again.
Suddenly, Harvey’s phone rang, breaking the spell. He fished it out of his pocket and Donna caught sight of a flash of blonde hair on the screen. The man before her quickly looked up, uncertainly flitting over his features.
But Donna wasn’t going to stay there and watch him choose Paula Agard over her again.
“It’s late. I should go,” Donna said quickly, brushing past Harvey before he could say anything.
“Donna wait!” he called out and her chest seized.
However, she couldn’t.
But this was Harvey so she spun around to look at him for just a second.
“It was nice seeing you again,” she said with a tight lipped smile, so different from the grin she sported only moments ago.
She instantly turned back, walking away as fast as her legs could carry her as she ignored the concern in Harvey’s expression because the last thing she wanted was his goddamn pity.
Fingers closed around her lungs, rendering her breathless. She forgot.
She let herself forget.
She saw him again and he looked exactly as she remembered. They were exactly as she remembered.
It was too easy to fall back into what they were. She forgot how easy everything felt with him.
She saw Harvey again and it felt like home.
But that was the thing.
He wasn’t.
Everything may have felt the way it used to but it wasn’t.
Harvey wasn’t hers anymore. Hell he never had been.
They never had been.
Donna thought she had accepted the fact that she and Harvey weren’t meant to be. That she wasn’t the one for him.
Yet there were still times when the simple fact would slap her in the face.
It wasn’t her.
It would never be her.
All of her old wounds ripped open and she stained the streets in red as she bled out on the pavement. Eyes burning, she tried to swallow the lump in her throat but couldn’t.
Because for a few moments, it felt like maybe it could have been.
However Donna and Harvey were destined to be nothing more than an almost.
A wish that never got made on a shooting star. A whisper that never quite fell from one’s lips.
They were merely a story that never had the chance to be written. Incomplete from the very start.
Maybe they would have been beautiful. But the world would never know.
Harvey may have been the sun in Donna’s universe but he couldn’t have been bothered to even make her a star in his.
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WEEKEND GETAWAY GUIDE: TORONTO
I know what you're assuming. And the answer is YES Toronto can be a weekend break escape for Angelenos. If I can do it, you can do it, and thus you definitely should. I just spent 3 lovely days in "The Six" (which ends up only 7% of people that live there really refer to it as), and also divine maple fallen leave was there so much to check out, experience, as well as most notably-- consume.
Thanks to the magnificent Fairmont Royal York hotel, a 90-year-old Toronto prize, this was not only my very first browse through to Canada's biggest city, yet it was likewise my first real browse through to Canada! (I don't truly count docking in Vancouver from a cruise ship and also taking a bus to the flight terminal "seeing" Canada.) I thought of Toronto as a huge city, yet not nearly as big as it really was. It was quickly on the same level with the similarity New York City or perhaps Mexico City. However besides it's stretching "large city" landscape, what truly attracts attention about Toronto is its extraordinary modern diversity. This is one city you will never ever be tired in, and also if you, like me, are game for that "large city" life, Toronto will undoubtedly amaze and also thrill you. So, with every one of that said, below are a few of my personal ideas for your next trip:
REALITIES.
First things initially: fun and also fascinating information. Why? Due to the fact that I feel like to the majority of us, maybe Toronto is just one more huge city, yet factually it's a great deal a lot more unique than you could give it credit scores for! Let's discover some points:
Toronto is home to over 8,000 dining establishments and also bars, making up for 6.5% of the city's services
Toronto invites over 40 million visitors yearly
There are 301 quantifiable days of sunshine (yet the record low temp is -24 levels F).
Toronto is residence to 7 major league sporting activities (one of the most in the nation).
Yonge St (you'll understand it) is the longest road worldwide.
Around 25% of Hollywood motion pictures are shot in Toronto.
There are around 160 completed high-rise buildings in Toronto, with 112 under construction.
STAY.
As soon as you've been totally sold on those fun realities as well as you've gone ahead as well as scheduled your flights, the following obvious action is lodgings. And the only location I am going to advise you stay at, for lots of reasons, is the Fairmont Royal York. Below's why:.
I am constantly trying to find resorts that are special and really seem to embody the city's "significance" (I sort of hate that I just utilized that word however it's so exact wherefore I mean) and also the Fairmont Royal York is exceptionally unique and essential to the city's background, as well as believe me you feel it the minute you pull up and also stroll inside.
She may have simply turned 90, yet she's a classic dame. The resort has been undergoing significant (and also majorly costly) improvements yet the outcome seems to have made it all well worth the while. The brand as well as developers genuinely paid regard to the hotel's history but made the essential updates to maintain guests comfy. It has actually been an attractive change.
The resort's front runner dining establishment REGIME-- a contemporary Canadain brassiere with a conventional French touch-- is definitely superb. The room is lovely, moody, and the food is beyond. So beyond, actually, we consumed there 3 times in 3 days.
The cocktails at Clockwork (the major entrance hall bar) are hands down, no joke, a few of the most effective cocktails I've ever had. When you visit ensure you get a "Meet Me At the Clock" (Hendrick's Gin, Veuve Clicquot Champagne, Lemon, Absinthe, Bitters, Frosé Ice) or a "Clearheaded Harvey" (Absolut Elyx Vodka, Galliano, Clarified Orange Juice, Citric Acid) and also thank me later. And in addition to that bar is just one of the most effective hotel bars I can state I've ever been to. (Ok moving on, prior to I apparently attempt to move in.).
It is centrally located and also within strolling distance of so much, like the CN Tower, Rogers Centre (where the Toronto Blue Jays play), Scotiabank Sector (where the Raptors play), or enjoyable parts of community like Queen St.
While Fairmont resorts are already the embodiment of deluxe to me, the Fairmont Royal York takes it to the next level with their lately redesigned Fairmont Gold offerings which include gorgeous new suites, a whole separate check-in, and also a stunningly stunning personal lounge where visitors can enjoy dishes, canapes, and also a totally equipped honor bar. The focus to detail in the Gold spaces was merely unforgettable, something you are worthy of to see to think hunny.
The Queen remains right here when she remains in town, require I say more.
DO.
This might come as a shock yet there's a great deal to experience in Toronto. Whether you're the foodie, luxury, artsy, stylish, or daring type, there really is something for everyone here. Here's what to think about:.
NIAGRA-ON-THE-LAKE.
My absolute FAVORITE activity from this past journey was seeing an area nearby called Niagra-on-the-Lake, which is essentially Canadian white wine country. You can get there by tiny plane (which is something the Fairmont Royal York will assist establish if you're remaining in a Fairmont Gold Room) or you can arrive by automobile, regardless, I can not advise this place enough. In between the beautiful wineries, the lovable as well as charming midtown, and all of the tasty red wine your heart can manage, I currently can't wait to find back below.
GO TO QUEEN WEST.
The first thing we did after signing in to our spectacular resort was walk down to the beloved area on Queen St. This location I would certainly refer to as "Silverlake East" due to the fact that it reminded me of the location around Sunset Joint. Lots of younger individuals were walking, there are actually great local restaurants and also bars, and also it's house to perhaps the best shopping around. You could invest an entire afternoon discovering this area and I highly suggest that you do.
CHECK OUT KENSINGTON MARKET.
An additional prominent, eclectic, and beloved part of community is Kensington Market. Known for it's more bohemian as well as vivid ambiance, you'll find plenty of great coffeehouse, classic shops, red wine bars, and a wide variety of dining establishments to appreciate.
CN TOWER.
The CN Tower essentially the crown gem of the city. Up until 2007, it was the tallest tower on the planet! In spite of it being fairly the normal vacationer location, mosting likely to the leading to experience those incredible views is entirely worth it. I really did not recognize how extensive Toronto was till I obtained all the way up there. If you're brave you can also partake in what is called the "Edge Walk", where you basically lean off the side of the top of the tower in a harness. Me? No many thanks. However hey, it's a point and individuals love it!
SPORTS!
As previously stated Toronto is residence to 7 different specialist sporting activities groups, so at any offered point during the year there need to be a video game of some kind taking place. I would suggest going to a Toronto Blue Jays video game, but that's primarily because I enjoy baseball and I've constantly wished to see that retractable roof at the arena IRL.
ST. LAWRENCE MARKET.
Regretfully I didn't reach look into the St. Lawrence Market myself however I am told this location is comparable to our own Grand Central Market here in LA, so assume farmers market vibes with food delays galore and also everything in between. This market was developed in 1803 so it deserves having a look back in time alone!
TRINITY BELLWOODS PARK.
That doesn't like a great park, specifically one in Canada? Trinity Bellwoods Park is centrally located, supplies all the perfect park offerings (views, trees, open spaces to partake in leisure tasks) and also is a tourist and also local favorite alike.
THE DISTILLERY DISTRICT.
Everybody informed me I would enjoy the Distillery Area as well as by the sounds of it, they struck the nail on the head. The Distillery Area was aptly called such because of the truth that the area was as soon as residence to the biggest distillery worldwide, however today is house to several of the city's finest clubs, some wonderful shopping, and also some absolutely lovely as well as special landscapes with its old Victorian aesthetic.
EAT & DRINK.
I'll be truthful, I am planning an entire journey back to Toronto SIMPLY to wine and dine. Due to their insanely varied area, the food scene in Toronto is exceptionally rich (remember there are over 8,000 dining establishments and also bars ?!). I ate quite a bit at the Fairmont Royal York, which I once more VERY recommend, but beyond that I am not mosting likely to make believe like I recognize what I am talking about in terms of the Toronto foodie scene, SO, alas for this part I defer to the experts:.
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Intravenous Hydration Clinic Toronto Ontario - Dr. Amauri Wellness Centre - Dr. Amauri Caversan, ND
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A Boy In The Shadows
Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, TIm Drake, Alfred Pennywoth, Jason Todd
Summary: Eyes still follow him wherever he went. At first it was just patrol. Then whenever he was inside the Cave. Then every night. Now, those eyes follow him in his every waking moment. Bruce still refuses to believe it’s a ghost.
A/N: For Halloween Content War. Day 5: Haunting/Spooky. So I misread the schedule and I had to finish this in like 30 minutes. So sorry for all the mistakes…
This is a bit morbid and confusing, so beware.
Bruce didn’t believe in ghosts. He might, once, as a child running around the Manor, without a care in the world. But his parents died, and he didn’t believe in ghosts anymore. Because, what is a ghost but a scary story for children, and he has seen things scarier than ghosts.
Yet, why did he feel eyes watching him on patrol?
It doesn’t matter. There are no ghosts. Bruce hadn’t believed in ghosts for decades. He’s not going to start now.
***
Eyes still follow him wherever he went. At first it was just patrol. Then whenever he was inside the Cave. Then every night. Now, those eyes follow him in his every waking moment. Bruce still refuses to believe it’s a ghost.
***
He stared at the memorial case. He put it in the middle of the Cave. He put it where he had to see it every time he entered the Cave. The feeling of being watched was always stronger whenever he looked at the case.
***
He started seeing things. He saw a glimpse of a boy who was six feet underground. He heard laughter from the library. His eyes caught movement here and there, gone in a moment. Sometimes, if he focused hard enough, he could see him, standing on his side, smirking.
He spent hours trying. If Alfred thought it strange, he didn’t say anything.
He wondered if Alfred can see him too.
***
Patrol. Look at the case. Remember. Go to bed. Go to work. Exercise. Patrol. Look at the case. Remember. Go to bed. Go to work. Exercise.
Patrol.
***
He was there most when Batman delivered a particularly hard punch, or a more savage kick. He was there most of the patrol if Batman went out without a plan. Batman started doing it more just to catch a glimpse of him. He was always gone in a second. So he did it again. And again. And again.
He heard the news, of course, ‘The Bat is Getting Violent’, 'Should We Imprison the Bat?’, 'Batman: Harm or Help?’. He didn’t care.
Gordon started to be wary of him on their rooftop meeting, so he stop going. He was never there anyway.
Alfred started to eye him with worry every time he got back from patrol. But he said nothing, so Batman continued on. He punched harder and got into more careless plans. Batman continued the violence. He was there every night.
Bruce will do anything for him.
***
Patrol. Case. Sleep. Exercise. Patrol. Case. Sleep. Exercise.
Patrol.
***
Dick came back. Nightwing was worried about Batman’s tendency for violence. Nightwing was worried. Nightwing.
Batman ignored him. He was still performing adequately. There was no need to worry. Besides, Batman has him.
Dick started a fight. Bruce ignored him. Dick left. Batman went on patrol.
***
Patrol. Case. Sleep. Exercise. Patrol. Case. Sleep. Exercise.
Patrol.
***
He started coming home with more injuries. Alfred stitched him up, but had a pained expression all the time.
He was there, when Batman was injured. He was stronger when Batman was injured.
Batman got injured a lot more.
***
Case. Sleep. Exercise. Patrol. Case. Sleep. Exercise.
Patrol.
***
Alfred finally broke. He confessed that he thought Bruce was now thinking with his fists instead of his head. He confessed of fearing Bruce would not survive another injury.
Bruce couldn’t decide if he should feel guilty for scaring Alfred, or happy for getting to be closer to him.
***
Case. Sleep. Exercise. Patrol. Case. Sleep. Exercise.
Patrol.
***
Alfred’s voice was ringing in his head. 'Think with your head, not your fists’.
He was there when he thought with his fist. But he couldn’t protect Gotham without thinking with his head.
He asked for his forgiveness and went after Two-Face.
***
“Who are you?”
“Robin.”
Bruce’s heart stopped. It can’t be. Jason was dead. Robin was dead. He was not out there, lifting rocks and beams to save Batman’s life.
Besides, he was there. The boy was not Robin.
“I don’t know who you are, but you’re not Robin.”
***
Timothy Drake, desperate to become Robin.
No. Bruce would not let another child die. He was whispering in his ears, telling Batman not to let this child be Robin. He would die. He would die. Don’t do this.
But by God, the kid was smart. He managed to convince both Dick and Alfred. Both of them urged Batman to take this kid as Robin.
But Harvey was still on the loose. Batman need to go.
***
The kid was smart. The kid was smart.
His points were rational. His arguments were given in a wonderfully thought out way. He was silent. He has been silent ever since Batman let the kid tag along while fighting Two-Face.
Batman needs a Robin. Bruce gave in to Dick and Alfred. He was giving no objections. (Perhaps silence was an objection in itself.) Timothy Drake become Robin.
***
Bruce heard no more voices, saw no more images, felt no more eyes watching him. He was gone.
***
Just a few yards away from the manor, a boy dug his way out of his grave.
A/N: I feel like I have to explain this. So he is Jason Todd, there to stop Batman from dying. And he stopped doing it because he was alive again. It’s a bit confusing…
#bruce wayne#tim drake#jason todd#dick grayson#alfred pennyworth#dc#fic#halloweencontentwar#lian writes
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affixed to you (harvey/mike)
AN: written for the suits100 fest where my prompt was: tattoos. also available on AO3.
Mike gets the tattoo the day before his twenty-second birthday.
It’s been a rough year. Turning twenty one was such a milestone, and yet it felt completely hollow. His parents’ absence was always obvious during big events in his life, but it felt even more glaring when he blew out the twenty one candles on the cake Grammy had made. Maybe it was due to the impending ten year anniversary of their deaths. Probably it was exacerbated by the weight of Grammy’s disappointment, not only in him getting kicked out of school, but for not getting back on his feet in any viable or respectable way.
In short, his twenty first birthday is not the joyous occasion it should’ve been.
He tries to sort out his life, and manages to find a job as a bike messenger. It’s not pre-law, but it’s something, and Grammy’s extreme enthusiasm for the prospect when he tells her about it makes it all worth it. He tries to bury himself in the work, taking as many shifts as he can, pushing his body to the limit of exhaustion, all to try and distract himself from the ache he gets in his chest when he thinks about his parents. Which he does, with more regularity than usual.
When the anniversary of their deaths arrives Mike calls in sick to work and spends the day holed up in his bedroom, poring over old photo albums, the last tangible piece of his parents’ lives. When he moved in with Grammy into her tiny Brooklyn apartment, Grammy packed up his parents’ house and either sold or donated all of their belongings. He didn’t think much of it at the time, but now with hindsight he can understand the inclination. There wasn’t anywhere for her to keep a life’s worth of belongings, and even if there were it would’ve been too painful to keep everything around. But still, he wishes he had more, something he could hold in his hands and know it was something his parents had held in theirs.
He finally emerges some time after dinnertime has come and gone. Grammy doesn’t say anything. She herself looks drawn and pale, but she tries to give him a weak smile. His attempt at returning it isn’t successful, but she doesn’t seem to mind. Instead she heads over to the kitchen, and, of all things, cuts him a piece of mud cake. It’s ridiculous, because cakes should be for celebrating and not mourning, but it’s Grammy’s go-to for baking and she probably needed something to do today.
Grammy places two plates of cake on the small table, and when Mike crosses the room to sit down Grammy putters over to the old CD player tucked away in the bookshelf and puts on a CD. They sit together and silently eat cake as his parents’ favourite album plays around them.
Though the music isn’t something he would’ve discovered on his own - it was a cult classic album put out a good six or seven years before he was born - he knows it better than he knows his own Metallica and Arcade Fire albums. James and Nina Ross loved music, it was always playing in their house, and this was an album that had high rotation. Mike listens, memories of hot summer days dancing around the house with his mom and curled up on the couch reading with his dad washing over him.
And suddenly, he knows what he wants to do.
Mike’s personal favourite song from the album is called Summer Sun. It somehow has always made him warm and comforted, and given him a sense of belonging, of being in the exact right place at the exact right time. So he finds the sheet music online and takes it to a local tattoo parlor.
They discuss size and placement and cost and book an appointment for the following month. Mike doesn’t feel nervous or uncertain. In fact, he feels settled for the first time in months. It’s like having some kind of permanent marker for his parents is allowing him the freedom to let go.
His tattoo artist prints up the stencil and carefully places it on Mike’s skin. He’s getting it low on his left ribcage, close to his heart. He chose the music from his favourite lyric, and after a quick debate with his tattoo artist decided to keep the staff lines in. It isn’t long, just over half a dozen notes, and the length wraps around his rib nicely. Getting the tattoo hurts, a lot, and yet somehow it’s not as painful as he’d feared; his mind had conjured the idea of pain so unbearable that the reality isn’t anywhere near as bad.
It doesn’t take long, and his artist wraps it up and goes through the aftercare procedure and when Mike leaves he feels more connected to his parents than he has in years.
*
“Did I ever tell you about my dad?”
“I think you know the answer to that question.”
So Harvey does. He tells Mike that his dad was a musician, a saxophone player, and that he played with all the greats because they all loved him.
Mike may be too stoned to react, but he isn’t too stoned to realize.
It was five years ago now but he remembers. He remembers looking up the sheet music when he was planning his tattoo. He remembers seeing lyrics by Riley Ellis, music by Gordon Specter in the top right hand corner. He even remembers meeting Harvey and being amused by the coincidence of the surname.
But it’s not a coincidence. It can’t be. Harvey’s dad wrote the notes that Mike has permanently marked on his skin.
Still, just to be sure, Mike asks the question. They’ve gone to Pearson Hardman to pee in Louis’ office, but then are distracted by can openers and memos and uncovering a conspiracy that somehow neither of them saw when they were sober. Dawn is starting to break, and the high is starting to wear off, and Mike thinks that if he doesn’t ask this now he’ll never find the courage again. So he says Harvey’s name and asks, “So, your dad, would I know any of his music?”
“Depends on how into 70s and 80s jazz you are,” Harvey grins. He stands from the sofa and heads to the wall of records that suddenly make so much more sense in Mike’s mind. Mike stands, follows, as he’s been doing from the moment they met.
Harvey starts pulling out records, a frankly astonishing number. Harvey will tell him which songs Gordon performed on, which records have songs that he wrote, which artists were his dad’s favorite to work with. Mike listens with rapt attention, and doesn’t even flinch when Harvey pulls out a record that Mike has seen a hundred times before. Granted, his parents had their copy on tape, and his Grammy had bought the CD version when it became available, and now Mike plays it on his iPhone, but the artwork is the same, has followed the music through all its iterations.
It’s not a coincidence. Harvey and Mike were connected in an ethereal way long before they ever met. The knowledge warms inside him, the first moment of comfort he’s had since that terrible moment when Rachel told him about Grammy and his world came crashing down around him. He would never admit it out loud, but he’d always felt there was something between him and Harvey - call it what you will; a spark, a connection - that went beyond the ordinary. He would never call it fate, because that was an ideal too grandiose for him to consider. It’s just, he’s always felt like he and Harvey were meant to find each other.
Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling him that he’s right. That he and Harvey are meant to be in each other's lives.
He thinks about telling Harvey, but the day before had been too heavy and the night before had been too light and he doesn’t know where this piece of information fits in. It just doesn’t feel like the right moment, not now, when he’s still so thick with grief. When he tells Harvey he wants it to be about them, and them alone. So he bites his tongue and hopes that soon the day will come when the moment feels right.
*
Mike has felt this thing between them building for so long he couldn’t even say when it started.
Maybe it was when he broke up with Rachel and spent a week living on Harvey’s couch. Perhaps it was when he went to prison and Harvey spent every waking moment trying to get him out again. It could have been the first time he was arrested and refused to give Harvey up. Maybe it was when his Grammy died and Harvey was the one person who knew how to give him exactly what he needed. Maybe it was him helping Harvey in the Clifford Danner case or Harvey paying for his rookie dinner or one of a thousand other moments.
Or maybe, just maybe, it was from the moment Mike stumbled into Harvey’s hotel room and bluffed his way into a job he had no right to have.
But whenever it started, it was all leading to this.
Mike tentatively reaches over, his fingertips light on Harvey’s skin as he gently cups his face. Harvey’s lips quirk into a smile which looks equal parts nervous and encouraging, so Mike inches forward, ever so slowly. Harvey meets him halfway and their mouths press together in a gentle kiss.
Mike had never allowed himself to think of this possibility too often, but when he had, when he indulged in the fantasy of Harvey actually returning his feelings, of one of them making a move, it was nothing like this. He’d imagined heat and urgency, an almost aggressive coupling filled with desperation and burning need. He never considered this, this simmering want, the gentle tentativeness that comes with knowing that even so small an act could change everything.
They pull back just far enough to be able to look in each other’s eyes.
“I can’t believe that took us five years,” Mike whispers.
“I can’t believe it didn’t take us ten,” Harvey replies, voice soft but wondrous. And all Mike can do in reply is kiss him again.
Harvey’s hands wrap around his hips and pull him closer. The kiss deepens but doesn’t quicken, and Mike has the fleeting thought that this must be what heaven is like.
Mike doesn’t know how long they stand there, but eventually Harvey murmurs against Mike’s lips, “We should take this elsewhere.”
He’s right, they should, because darkened room or no they are still standing in the middle of Mike’s office where anyone could walk in on them. It’s not likely of course, since it’s nearing one in the morning, but still. This is something that Mike wants to keep to themselves, at least for the moment, and the last thing they need is someone discovering them and telling the world.
“Come home with me.” Harvey’s words may have been a statement but they were really a question. They also might have been more impressive back when they first met, when he and Harvey lived in different boroughs and Harvey would barely let him past the front door. Now they live but a block and a half from each other, and barely a week goes by without one of them knocking on the other’s door for the sole purpose of hanging out. Still, Mike feels a flutter in his stomach, nerves and anticipation and incredulity that this is actually really happening.
“Okay.”
The cab ride over is a blur. They make out like teenagers in the backseat, simply because they can, because they’ve waited years for this and they’re giddy and impatient with it. Despite the invitation to Harvey’s apartment Mike’s is actually closer, so that’s where they go. Their fingers tangle together as they cross the lobby, and when they are in the elevator Harvey crowds into Mike’s space in the corner of the car. He doesn’t kiss Mike though, just seems to revel in the proximity, the tip of his nose brushing along Mike’s cheekbone. It feels heady.
Harvey keeps his distance while Mike unlocks the door, but as soon as they’ve closed the door behind them they’re kissing as though their lives depend on it. Mike isn’t even embarrassed by the desperation. He wants Harvey more than he can say, more than he’s ever wanted anyone else, and there’s no way he could hide that fact even if he wanted to. But Harvey seems to be right there with him, trying to both push Mike’s jacket from his shoulders and pull his body closer by the hips, all at once.
“Bedroom,” Mike says against Harvey’s lips, and they move as one across the apartment, laughing as they trip over their own feet.
Mike pushes Harvey down onto the bed and then climbs into his lap. They fall back onto the soft mattress, Mike’s nimble fingers swiftly undoing Harvey’s tie and removing the material by throwing it across the room. Harvey’s shirt is next, and as he undoes each button he carefully kisses each newly exposed patch of skin. It’s a barely there touch that still has Harvey moaning, and Mike can’t wait to hear all the noises Harvey will make.
Mike fists his hands in Harvey’s shirt, sitting up and bringing Harvey with him, pushing the material off his shoulders and down his arms as they kiss. Once the shirt is gone Harvey gets his hands on Mike, cupping his face and kissing under his chin, down the column of his neck. Mike arches back to give him better access, and he’s so distracted by the delicious feeling of Harvey’s lips and tongue against his skin that for the first few seconds he doesn’t even notice. But then he realizes that Harvey has started to unbutton his shirt, and his hands fly to Harvey’s almost without his permission, fingers wrapping around Harvey’s hands, stilling him.
“You okay?” Harvey asks, looking up at him, breathless and beautiful. “Did I-?”
“No,” Mike hastens to assure him. “No, it wasn’t you. I just … I … it’s complicated.”
Mike’s instinct might’ve stopped Harvey, but now that his brain is focused on something other than the feeling of Harvey against him it’s become painfully clear why he stopped Harvey from removing his shirt.
Because once he did, he’d see the tattoo.
Mike hadn’t meant to keep it a secret all this time. It just never felt like the right moment to tell him. And then it got to the point where it felt like too much time had passed, where it felt less like he'd been keeping a secret and more like telling a lie. And he didn’t know how to tell Harvey after so long a silence.
He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t felt the weight of it over the years. It was so different to when they were pretending he was a real lawyer - at least then, the burden was shared. But Mike has been alone in this. Until now.
Harvey has dropped his hands onto the bed, leaning back on his palms in fake ease. He’s trying to look like he’s just giving Mike space, but Mike knows Harvey too well now, can read his expressions like a book, can see the hurt and confusion and worry buried beneath the surface. He thinks Mike’s confused about them, when nothing could be further from the truth.
“Harvey,” Mike says softly. “You have to know how much I want this. How much I want you. I’ve been in love with you for … well, a long time.”
Harvey’s face becomes soft with affection. “Yeah? Me too.”
“It’s just … there’s something I’ve never told you.”
Harvey looks intrigued but non-judgemental. Mike takes a deep breath.
“How do you feel about tattoos?”
“Depends,” Harvey says, eyebrows quirking. “You don’t have a tattoo of Trevor’s face or anything, do you?”
The image startles a laugh out of Mike. “No, definitely not.”
Harvey nods. “Okay, so, are you embarrassed by it or something?”
“No. Quite the opposite in fact,” Mike says earnestly.
Harvey’s confusion is obvious, and Mike thinks they’re just gonna end up talking in circles about it, so he has to decide here and now if he’s ready. If he can finally tell Harvey about his tattoo. But looking into Harvey’s warm eyes, seeing the trust and love shining there, Mike can’t believe that this will go badly.
He presses a tender kiss to Harvey’s lips, lingering for just a moment, before he slips off Harvey’s lap, standing beside the bed. It feels ridiculous to start undressing while he still has his shoes on, so he toes them off first. His tie, already loose around his neck, is easily discarded. He can’t help but keep his eyes fixed on Harvey’s as he unbuttons his shirt. He isn’t trying to make it sexy, but he can’t deny the heat that floods between them. The buttons pop undone but he doesn’t open his shirt, just lets it sit loosely on his form, a sliver of skin down his torso showing between the crisp white material.
Mike takes an aborted step forward, noticing that Harvey still has his shoes on, and decides that turnabout is fair play. Harvey has given him plenty of shit over the years about his outfits and his inability to act like an adult, so Mike very deliberately lets his gaze travel down to Harvey’s feet, raising his eyebrows at him.
Harvey chuckles. “Really? After all this time you finally start to care about decorum?” But he takes his shoes off. In fact, he also takes his socks off with exaggerated flair. Mike grins at him, but then Harvey is sliding back on the bed in obvious invitation. Mike doesn’t hesitate, crawling over him and meeting his mouth in a searing kiss.
For all their talk about the hidden tattoo, Harvey doesn’t seem particularly eager to see it. His palm glides over Mike’s skin, the touch somehow both delicate and assured, but he doesn’t remove Mike’s shirt or break the kiss to look at it. Mike’s feels put at ease, some of the tension pouring out of his body, to the point where he collapses on top of Harvey, the length of their bodies touching. Mike starts to roll his hips, pulling a moan from the base of Harvey’s throat that sounds like heaven. Harvey gets a leg over Mike’s hip, pressing them even closer.
“God, you feel good,” Mike murmurs against his mouth.
Harvey rolls them over easily, sliding his mouth down Mike’s neck. He continues onwards, kissing down the center of his chest, the flat of his stomach. Mike arches up beneath him, getting a hand in Harvey’s hair. Harvey swirls a tongue around Mike’s nipple, a surprised gasp easily turning into a low moan as Harvey takes him apart.
And then, nothing. Stillness. Mike opens his eyes and sees Harvey, looking down at his chest where his shirt has fallen open, his eyes on the tattoo. It’s slightly faded and blurry compared to when he first got it, but on the whole it’s aged well. Mike watches as Harvey gingerly reaches over and runs his fingertips lightly over the marked skin.
“Do you … do you like it?” Mike asks tentatively. He feels like he can’t breathe.
“Yeah,” Harvey says slowly. “What’s it from?”
This is it. The moment Mike has been anticipating and dreading in equal measure. He takes a deep breath, tenderly cups Harvey’s face in his hand, guides Harvey’s attention to him. “Before I tell you, I need you to know that I’ve had it for ten years, long before we met.”
“Okay?” Harvey says, confused.
“It’s from one of your dad’s songs.”
The sudden stilling of Harvey’s fingers on his skin is the only reaction. Harvey is just looking at him, and every second that passes feels like an eternity. He looks down at the tattoo for a moment, and when he looks back he is wide eyed and wondrous. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He tries several times, to the point where in the end all they can do is laugh. It’s ridiculous, but it also breaks the tension slightly.
“I don’t - I have so many thoughts and questions I don’t know where to start,” Harvey admits.
“I got it when I was twenty one. It was my favourite song from my parents favourite album. It was to remember them. When you told me about your dad, that he was a musician, I knew it had to be the same person. And when I realized…” Mike trails off, wondering if he’s going too far by telling Harvey this. But then Harvey starts gently running his fingertips over the tattoo, a silent signal of support, and Mike remembers. He can tell Harvey anything. “When I realized it didn’t feel like oh that’s funny or that’s a cool coincidence. It was more like … of course. Of course Harvey’s dad wrote the music I carry around with me every moment of every day. Because from the moment we met I felt connected to you, like we were always meant to meet and be in each others’ lives. And this just confirmed it. I was meant to meet you, Harvey Specter.”
Harvey smiles softly, the kind that starts slow but soon takes over his whole face. “What song is it from?”
“Summer Sun.”
Harvey’s eyes widen, and then he laughs. He laughs so hard he rolls off Mike onto the soft bed beside him, and the reaction makes no sense to Mike but then he figures Harvey’s allowed to react however he needs. He shifts onto his side and waits Harvey out, and when Harvey is done, when his laughter peters out and he catches his breath, he simply cups a hand around Mike’s neck, leaning in and kissing him.
“I’ve always thought fate was just a form of coincidence. There’s no way it could be real. Even with everything that had to happen, to both of us, to get us into that room that day, I still couldn’t believe it. But this … now I’m a believer.”
Mike’s confused. It must be showing on his face, because Harvey smiles at him and says, “That song, those notes that you have tattooed on your skin, they were written for me.”
Now it’s Mike’s turn to be incredulous. “What?”
“Well, the story goes that when I was born, the first time my dad held me in his arms, he was so blinded by the love he felt that he turned to my mother and said, ‘It’s like looking into the sun.’”
“Awwww.”
Harvey levels a look at Mike but continues. “I was born in summer, on the summer solstice actually, so he started calling me his summer sun. He thought it was hilarious because people couldn’t tell if he was calling me sun with a ‘u’ or son with an ‘o’.”
Mike grins. “That’s such a dad joke. I love it.”
“Yeah, he did too. So apparently when I was a baby there was nothing I loved more than listening to my dad play music. His instrument of choice was saxophone, but he also dabbled in piano and guitar. And he liked to write melodies, even though he was more revered for his playing skills. I was always asking him to play for me, which he did, and one day he took it a step further and wrote me a song. I was about three years old and he called it Summer Sun. It wasn’t meant to be heard by anyone else, but then, a few years later, Riley Ellis was over and she heard it. I wasn’t well and my dad was playing it for me to cheer me up. A month later she came back to the house with a handwritten page of lyrics, and the rest is history.”
Mike can’t think. His brain, incredible and unstoppable machine that it is, simply can’t process this. He doesn’t know why, but learning that the song was written about Harvey feels even more amazing than the initial revelation of realizing Harvey’s dad had written the musical notes he has indelibly tattooed on his skin.
“I don’t know what to say,” Mike admits softly.
Harvey nods knowingly. Mike looks at Harvey through new eyes. It really had just felt like a nice idea, like it was a funny coincidence they could assign deeper meaning whenever they were feeling sentimental. But now, now it feels real. Now it feels like fate.
Mike reaches over and lightly cups Harvey’s face. “I really was meant to find you,” he whispers.
“And I’m so thankful that you did,” Harvey replies, tilting his head and pressing a kiss to Mike’s palm.
It’s so easy to lean forward and kiss Harvey then. So he does, falling back onto the mattress when Harvey presses forward. And then Harvey breaks their kiss, ducking his head and pressing his lips to Mike’s ribs, right where the tattoo is.
Mike believes in fate now - how could he not? - but that didn’t make life easier. He knows that, as much as he loves Harvey, life isn’t perfect and there will be bad times ahead. But he also knows that the good times will far outweigh the bad. And whenever he has any doubts, all he needs to do is look down and see Harvey written across his heart. Because even though Mike’s tattoo didn’t bring them together and it certainly wouldn’t keep them together, it was going to be an amazing reminder that no matter what, good times and bad, sickness and health, they were destined to meet. And they belong together.
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ᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴇʙ ᴏꜰ ʟᴏᴠᴇ – Peter Parker fanfic (4/of many)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
"I told you I never saw her coming out of the building!" I flutter my eyes hearing Happy's altered voice
"Then where the fricking fork is her?" my dad shouts back
I walk to the living room where the shouts were coming from and scratch my eyes, the drowsy feeling makes me stumble with my own feet
"What time is it?" I say between yawns
"wha... hey! where were you, missy?" my dad comes running at me
"on the I+D floor, working but I obviously fall asleep there, my back is killing me," I say without opening my eyes "now if you don't mind, I need my bed" I slowly stroll my way to my room and shut the door behind me
"She's going to become you" Happy whispers at the other side of the door before I doze off again
------------------
I quickly run downstairs, I take a donut and head to the lift
"what about your lunch?!!" my mom snorts surprised it's the first time I stayed asleep
"I'm running late, I'll buy something there!" I shout back and get inside the lift
When I find Happy at the street I nudge him and he starts driving to Midtown, I almost choked with the donut but survived. I close the door behind me and wave goodbye, I quickly walk to my locker and see that the guy from yesterday was trying to open it, I just stop some meters away from him.
"mmm hi!" I raise a little my voice for him to listen "what are you doing? huh?"
He turns at me and smiles "oh hey! it's you! well... I'm trying to open it but I think it's stuck" he continues to force the lock
"well..." I step closer "maybe because it's my locker?"
He squints his eyes making a confused face "what? no, they even wrote me down the number... look" he hands me a paper and I look at it
"yeah... mine is 896 and maybe if we turn this paper the other way... we have... 968... here" I give back the paper and he looks at it and sighs in embarrassment
He touches his messy hair "well, this is awkward... I almost ruin your locker... and mine is just across from yours..." he points to the other wall with lockers
"oh well, what a coincidence, go and break that lock...go on" I laugh
I open my locker and watch as he opens his and laughs, I take out my books and someone pokes my shoulder, the boy is now beside me.
"Hello again" he mutters "my name is-" but he was interrupted by Morita
"Classes are beginning! come on everyone! with energy!" he cheerfully claps and I look at the boy who rolls his eyes and then looks at me
"Need to go, running late" he smiles and starts walking away
"hey! what year are you in?!!" I shout at him
"JUNIOR!!!" he shouts opening the door of his classroom
Mmmm junior, he is 16...I stop the thoughts and walk to English. All the class was boring, just a debate about if love is the main topic in Romeo and Juliet, I avoid talking and so as Peter. Next was Biology with Harrington which consisted of a freaking show of plants and a talk about dinosaurs where most of the boys allow their inner child out. Then at Chemistry, I'm dangerous, I know that. Because I love to experiment with everything I can. I was beside Flash much to my disappointment so we started working but one of the Petri glasses fall so I spin to grab it and spot Peter experimenting with some mysterious liquids, he notices me eyeing the weird mix and he hardly gulps stopping everything and nervously smiled at me.
"what's that?" I whisper pointing at the weird mixture
"it's just ummm, nothing actually. I was bored" he whispers back
"hey! Penis Parker just close your mouth" Flash turns to him and whispers
"something you want to share Eugene?" Cobbwell raise his voice, making us turn and do our work
In the end, I see Peter running quickly the other way. So I ramble to the cafeteria, I'm starving. When I step there, all eyes were on me, but the look everyone was giving me it wasn't a look of good attention... it was resentment, angry looks, I knew it was about Sokovia, the topic it's kinda fresh. I walk to the food counters and start picking what I wanted, the cafeteria was now more silent than ever but eh, can't please everyone, it's not my fault, it's not my fault. Then someone pokes my left shoulder so I sigh and turn around, preparing to hear a speech of hate but it was that boy from earlier.
"Hey, you" He smiles with a tray of food in his hands
"hey," I happily say and shake the serious face "how were your first classes?"
"I loved them, I really like school, to be honest" he shrugs "so umm, I have nowhere to sit and people here already have friends so... would you like to sit with me?"
"ReallY' Oh, best decision you could ever make... I... yeah sure, let's go I have a good place for us"
I walk in front of him leading the way. Before I could open the doors I turn my face and see a bunch of girls sitting around a crying girl... oh... it's Natalie Spencer, sister of Charlie Spencer... a casualty of the Sokovia accident, from what I heard... he was building sustainable houses there.
I gulp, a sting of sadness outpours me. It's not my fault, it's not my fault.
The cool air hits my face, I walk across the damp grass and slump in the benches in front of the field, my usual spot.
"What a view!" he examines all around and sits beside me "it's like we are VIP" He grabs his burger and starts eating, not questioning me why I'm not presenting him to other people "I never told you my name by the way..."
"you look like amm a... Stephen?" I start eating my pizza
"am I a joke to you?" he touches his heart"
"all right! tell me your name then"
"I'm Harley Keener but Harley is ok" he kindly smiles
"nice to meet you Harley...pizza?" I offer and he nods
"maybe half a slice..." he cuts the pizza "you never told me your name... you want some fries?"
"Tannie, my name is Tannie and yes, I was staring at your fries..." I snort
"never heard that name before, I like it"
All the recess we talked about ourselves and what we like, my sense of humour was complemented with his, with so little time we already began a fight of witty comments, we laughed too hard that I even think that now I just have a six-pack like Steve now. We walk back, he has Chemistry, and I have music.
"So Rose Hill, Tennessee, that was a big change huh?" I ask feeling a Deja-vu, I heard that name before...
"It was, but I'm happy here now. It's just my sister, my mom and me so..." he steps in front of his classroom "see you later maybe?"
"of course! bye, Harley!" I wave goodbye and walk to music
When I enter the classroom I see everyone already holding their respective instruments, I see Peter with his flute and I internally laugh, he's so bad that I need to tell him...
"Hey Tannie!" he flashes a thin smile and I lower myself
"You're holding your flute so wrong Peter" I gently snatch it from his hands and demonstrate him the proper way "like this, see?"
"oh, uh... I've been doing it so wrong... thanks! I suck at this" he stutters and I squeeze his shoulder
"It's the first time someone touches your flute, Parker??!!!" Flash mockingly shouts from the other corner of the classroom and I almost choke when I hear his double sense so I turn to him and fulminate Flash with my stare
"oh! I didn't see you there Tannie...umm you are not... touching... umm Peter's flute of course..." he nervously says, trying to fix it but making it worse
I snort and turn to look at Peter who's ears are red and cheeks are blushed. I just hand him his flute without saying anything. Music and Art were bearable enough, then I head to Robotics and sigh when the only decent person skipped the club, again... so now I have to socialize. Minutes later I begin designing the official blueprints of the EMMA project, my concentration was broken when someone pokes my shoulder. So I spin.
"well, are you stalking me?" I quirk my brow at Harley who's carrying a bunch of papers
"You wish, you are the one stalking me!" he replies slumping beside me
"here, let me help you" I stand up and grab some papers that were almost falling "maybe you need a binder?"
"Probably but my kind of organization is disorganization" He shrugs and all those papers fly all over my desk
"Harley, this is cool" I grab one of his blueprints and raise it "I like how you fusion this part with this one" I point out
"really?" He leans to look at the paper "I like it too! you know, I got this inspiration since I was little, a friend of mine help me with super-advanced tools and yeah..."
"What a friend" I answer listening to his story "You know, if you ever need to work with more super-advanced tools, you can come to my place" I absentmindedly say
"Thanks, Tannie!" he then starts collecting all his papers and begin working
---------------
"and then I just ran to the river, the bees were all over me and my adrenaline was over the top" Harvey walks with me to the entrance
"and never got stung?"
"never! but I learned my lesson, not eating honey outside" he scratches his neck, I see Happy and wave at him
"that's me" I point to the car
he laughs "so the desperate driver is your desperate driver?"
"that's the one" I huff "you need a ride?"
"oh no! I just walk don't worry, thanks though"
"come onnnn!! I insist" and I insisted too much because grab his backpack frogmarching Harvey to the car and Happy's expression is priceless "Hey!"
"Hello Miss" Happy pretends to professional, he grabs his dark glasses and puts them on, I know he's staring at Harley "hello Mr....?"
"Keener but please call me Harley" he smiles at Happy shifting his backpack to his lap
Harley told me he lives in Queens near Highland Park so we were heading there, all the drive we were joking and talking about our robotics ideas.
"Sorry to interrupt but Cooper Ave and local streets are closed because of an accident" Happy announces
"well... what about if we go to my place?" I offer "maybe streets will open in some hours?"
"I don't want to be a burden," Harley says
"good..." Happy whispers but I manage to listen to that
"come on, I can show you everything I have for building robotic things" I throw my hands in the air and he chuckles
"just a for a little while then..." he nods and Happy grunts driving to the tower
When we arrive at the tower I see three trucks of U-haul full of boxes and furniture, the moving was faster than dad told me. I step inside waving at the daytime workers inside and Harley is eyeing everything in awe, when we enter the complex it was almost empty, I stroll to the kitchen and Harley behind me.
"want something? there are frozen vegetables, a weird dish that says paprikash and waffles..." I close the fridge "or take out?"
"last option sounds more appealing," he says leaving his stuff at the counter
We start talking, Harley is trying his best not to blurt a bunch of questions about my home. Then, I hear someone coming in, it's my dad that jogs directly to the bar and pours himself a glass of something, he looks up sensing a pair of eyes watching him and he smirks at me.
"Hey kiddo" he approaches me and instantly catches Harley at the other end of the kitchen "and hello male kiddo..." he says the last thing awkwardly
I see how the face of Harley changes to a surprise one, he totally knows who is Tony Stark and then I notice my dad's face changing as well and he covers his mouth.
"wait there..." my dad points at Harley
"Tony The mechanic!!" Harley shouts sliding from the high bench
"kid Keener!" my dad also shouts "I thought you were throwing potatoes at Rose Hill?" he excitedly palms the back of Harley and I just watch the scene quietly and confused
"still a hobby but after what you did for me... I improved my stuff"
"Can someone explain to me what is happening?" I finally speak and both turn to me
"well, honey... wait how you are here... with her?" my dad points between us waiting for an answer
"He just transferred to Midtown and we just met" I explain and my dad nods
"and Rogers was right, it's a small world after all" he mutters
"so you are his daughter?" Harley talks to me
"Better and improved" I proudly nod making y dad laugh "so... how you two met?"
"You know the story, about your mom's weird ex"
"Killian..."
"and the fact that I had to fake my death for a while"
"yeah... I was pretty traumatized..."
"while doing so, this fine kid or teenager I must say now... gave me asylum in his garage"
"he is the friend I told you who gave me those fancy super-advanced tools" Harley now speaks
"well, I wasn't expecting that" I honestly say while scratching my nose
"but hey! you grew up!" my dad turns to Harley
"yeah that is life ya know," Harley remarks making me laugh
"Are we still connected??" my dad touches his heart and makes a funny face
"shut up," Harley says and my dad laughs even harder, I'm feeling like the third wheel here
"is this lady offered you something?" my dad then points at me "you want a drink?" he says bringing his drink to his lips and I quirk my brow at him "I mean...like Minute Maid or a Capri Sun?"
"it's fine, we just order some take out" Harley sits beside me and my dad approaches us
"T, watch out for this kid, he's a pain in the a-"
"dad!!!!" I interrupt him
"Do you still have panic attacks?" Harley asks suppressing a smile making my dad spin to me
"I'm telling you T, a pain in the private parts" he grabs his glass and walks to his office "I'll be there if you need me. Not throwing potatoes please!" he shouts and closes his office door
"well... that was so bizarre" I finally add
The take out came and we ate at my room, we really had a great time laughing, joking and we begin designing a prototype of a machine, he was really smart and witty, a weird sense of humour. The highlight of the day was his face lighting up when he saw the robotics lab at the tower so we stayed there some minutes but in the end, it wasn't minutes, we were there for three hours. Finally, it was time for him to go so I told Happy if he could drive him and he refused but I blackmailed him with a video I took at the summer of him dancing to the Backstreet Boys so he reluctantly drove Harley.
From my room, I spot Uncle Rhodey walking to my dad. Nat, Steve, and Vision following him minutes later. Everyone with a tired face... no Scrabble today I see, so I decided the only thing to do is homework. I went to bed drooling all over the pillow
---I totally know it's a Peter Parker Fanfic but PATIENCE MIDGARDIANS! some drama and confusion is necessary---
A/N: hope you liked it! Also available in Wattpad! https://my.w.tt/sw2CZNdCv1
#peterparker#peter parker x reader#spider-man#spiderman#peterparkerfic#tomholland#tonystark#marvel#marvelcinematicuniverse#Marvelfanfic#fanfic#wattpad fanfic#tumblr fanfic#civil war#Avengers#midtown#steverogers#pepperpotts
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