I was reading a lot of "Jon turns into a cat" fics recently and realized that no one has given Martin the opportunity to take feline form yet! So I'm granting him the privilege myself :)

Next

[ID: Four sequential drawings of Martin Blackwood from the Magnus Archives. Martin is a fat white man with short ginger hair, round glasses, and wearing a sweater.

Image 1) Martin reaches for a purple book sat on a surface in front of him. Curiously, he says "What's this?"

Image 2) The book cover is visible to the viewer now, where it was cut off from the frame in the previous drawing. On it is some text that reads "Nine Miserable Lives" where the first word is written in blocky text, and the last word is written in a white, cursive font. There is also an image of a cat in the cover. It is tall and glaring at the viewer. Martin, offscreen comments "Cute cat."

Image 3) A full landscape shot showing a bit of the archives stacks in the background. Up front, Martin stands next to a desk and has the cat book now open in his hands. He exclaims "Oh, wait. This has Leitner's name in it!"

Image 4) The same image, except where Martin was once standing there is now a fluffy, orange cat revealed behind a puff of smoke. The cat seems shocked.

\End ID]

I’ve never written Murder Boyfriends before, but @cuepickle ‘s art is just so lovely and powerful.

Based on this and this 💗 💜 🖤 (impending smut ahoy)

• • • • • • •

I just want to help, he’d said.

I just want to make things right, he’d said.

Steve said a lot of things. But he moaned incoherent words and exclaimed sounds he didn’t want anyone else to hear when Billy Hargrove steamrolled into his life, his feelings, and his goddamn morals.

Billy Hargrove wasn’t...right. He was twelve different shades of wrong, punctuated by Caribbean blue eyes and decorated with bronzed waves and curls. Steve knew he had a superiority complex, but he hadn’t known it was this bad.

Thing is, if he’d known, Steve couldn’t guarantee whether he’d change anything. Because knowing Billy Hargrove is a murderer would also mean Steve knew what his lips tasted like, and their softness against his neck.

All Steve had known was that Sheriff Hopper was missing, and his parents, being the upstanding white people that they are, deferred nearly every inconvenience to the police. And the police answered, because fat wallets keep their lights on, like everyone else.

But the Sheriff’s phones kept ringing. And maybe Steve had his own complex after so much time with Nancy, because he parked out front and strolled right into the Sheriff’s office.

The secretary wasn’t there.

Neither were the two deputies.

Steve tucked himself between the desks to pry apart the window blinds. Their cars were still here -

Steve’s head rotated at a sound he knew. He knew it in the way a memory piqued but he couldn’t place where or why. He followed it into the chief’s office...where Billy Hargrove sat at the desk - Hopper’s own chair - and ate a crisp apple from the strange pile in the waste paper basket.

“Billy?”

“Hi, Steve,” he smiled. Ankles crossed on the desk. A perfect, violet crescent framed the side of his eye. An indigo shadow rested in the inner corner of the other one. Either way, Steve’s first red flag was that he ached with concern more than itched for the nailed bat in his trunk.

“What happened to you?”

Steve thought the guy might choke, the way he tipped his head back to laugh while chunks of apple sat in his mouth. Naturally, it took him some time to chew and swallow before he said, “I finally stopped being afraid. And I started being responsible. Not the way he planned, though.”

“Hopper?” Steve frowned.

Billy did not answer immediately. He licked the apple like it might drip juice and beckoned, “Why don’t you sit down? I want to see you.”

The only lights on were in the main room where Steve stood. Ghoulish, fluorescent bulbs while Billy sat in shadow and vague, evening light hatching through the Chief’s window blinds. There was some kind of irony there: Steve in the fake, green-tinged light, and Billy in the natural...honest darkness.

Steve peeked behind him, surveying the room but finding no warnings apart from the negative space where people should be.

He stepped into the office -

“I’ve always liked looking at you.”

Steve paused on the carpet. Billy had said it loud enough to hear, but with enough air in it that Steve couldn’t tell if he was drunk or hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Then he tried to sit in one of the chairs -

“Over here. Sit on the desk.”

“What?” Steve blinked at him, suddenly very aware that the light gave Billy full view of his face but Steve only got the glow in that dark blond hair.

A strong leg pushed Billy away from the desk. The apple tumbled onto its pile of brothers, discarded as he pat the desk. “Sit right here.”

Steve shook his head all at once, beginning to backpedal out of the room. “This is weird.”

“No shit. This whole town’s weird. I’ve been reading some personal files in this room. I guess the Chief thought he was being smart, but...I’ve been hiding my whole life. I know where people hide things. A lot of things make sense in this place, now. The rat pack Max hangs out with. And you. A lot of things makes sense about you, Steve.”

Steve shrugged and his hands clapped against his thighs. “Okay? You’re not special for seeing my report cards.”

Billy’s features froze, but only for a moment, and then laughter burst out of him. “Steve, please sit down. God, I wanna touch you.”

Steve Harrington is a simple person. He’d officially been single for far too long, struck out every time he faced a woman - and a couple guys who were too scared or oblivious to do anything - and he just...

He wanted.

He wanted to be touched and if Billy was offering - Hot Stuff Hargrove, Baby Doll Eyes Billy - then Steve couldn’t help but take. He’d been so patient with everyone. He waited for Nancy to be ready. He accepted defeat when everyone walked away from him with rolling eyes or obligatory smiles.

Billy...talked. He talked and talked. He’d always been a talker; on the basketball court, barking orders as a lifeguard. Always talking, or letting his radio talk for him.

But Steve sat on Hopper’s desk and felt the warmth of Billy’s palms seep through his jeans. He held onto Steve’s calves as he talked. Talked about terrible things. Broken plates and abandoned things. Being the abandoned thing. Being the broken thing. He talked for hours before finally fucking Steve on that desk.

He’d started slow. Just unbuttoning the jeans and then leaving them alone. It would be another half hour before he took off Steve’s shoes. Every time Steve looked behind him - as if asking for someone to come in, to interrupt, to break this dark dream Billy wove around him - Billy said, “Look at me.”

“I’ve been looking at you, Billy.”

A small smile twitched on his lips. “Good.”

It would be another hour before he said, “I think my dad killed my mom.”

Less than a minute before he added, “He had it coming. Feel bad for my step-mom, though. But she was a screamer. So was the tall deputy. Things can finally be quiet now.”

Steve sat very still as arms circled around his pelvis and Billy just...hugged him. Pressed his face against Steve’s soft belly and inhaled his scent. Warm laundry and Steve Steve Steve.

He couldn’t be sure how things evolved into sex. Steve was already trapped in Billy’s web, so all he had to do was decide, to give the web a pluck and Steve felt the vibrations.

He planted his hands on the desk, lifting his ass for Billy to wrench the jeans and underwear off in one go. They got stuck on Steve’s feet, bunched up so Steve had to figure it out himself as Billy pressed himself over top of him.

The green desk lamp fell with an ominous clank.

Steve finally got a leg free and wrapped it around Billy’s ass the same time teeth found his neck. The warning bells that had been ringing since he got here felt far away; church bells too high over the town to actually make a difference in the goings-on.

Billy marked him up like he had paperwork to sign. Steve’s deed was his, and Billy moaned and grunted with every sigh he wrung out of Steve. Every squeeze to his waist made him moan, and he outright whimpered when Billy licked up his neck. For how much Billy gripped, bit, and sucked, he moved surprisingly gently below the belt.

“Gonna get lube later,” he said in that way again, traveling down Steve’s body as his thoughts escaped into the air. “I’m going to have your ass every which way, Harrington.”

Steve could only gasp as his tongue shoved inside him with no preamble. “I-I-I didn’t shower - ”

A guttural, breathy hum ricocheted from Billy’s throat and into Steve’s chest, knocking Steve’s head back like a rock on the way there. Billy’s stubble and gross wetness made Steve feel filthy in the best way. His cock lay heavily on his abdomen, spurting precum every time Billy’s hands squeezed the backs of his thighs.

Steve came like he’d never been touched in his life. His breathing picked up and he rutted against Billy’s face twice before making a mess of his shirt.

Billy took his slowly fading erection into his mouth, jerking himself off almost violently in a matter of seconds.

When Steve stepped outside, the air smelled like the sunrise even though only the faintest bit of blue had begun to dilute the darkness. And as the sun rose, Steve had never felt worse. It was like seeing a demogorgon for the first time, but instead of minutes, it stretched into hours.

People were dead.

Presumably Chief Hopper too.

Billy, he...he...

He showed up to Steve’s house with a smile and freshly laundered clothes. Steve had showered but looked like he hadn’t slept in a month. Billy only tipped his head back toward his car. “I’ve got two bank accounts freshly inherited. Let me buy you lunch.”

Steve wondered if Dustin’s comic book villains drove Camaros.

Billy bought him lunch. Bought him a chocolate milkshake too. Steve didn’t want to think about his ability to swallow those down so easily. Or how he interacted with the waitress like he wasn’t covered in red and brown love bites delivered directly atop Chief Hopper’s desk. He didn’t want to think what having all of Billy Hargrove’s attention on him did to his squirming...pleased...insides.

He didn’t want to think as Billy fingered him in the backseat.

They didn’t even fit back there but Billy moved with what felt like the strength of three men. It was arousing, being manhandled like that; any fear Steve ought to have held in his gut tapped its disapproving toe outside of the vehicle. The way Billy sucked behind his ear, gripped his hips so he could slot himself right in between Steve’s legs and rut his dark pink erection against Steve’s...

The way he bought Steve more milkshakes.

And a fresh tire rotation because his car veered to the left.

And filled him up in the darkness of Steve’s bedroom, making Steve bounce on his cock as he licked the taste of him off his lubed up fingers - 

“You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

It just...came out.

The husky lust cleared from Billy’s eyes when Steve said that. Terror must have filled Steve’s eyes because Billy gently cradled the side of his head.

This is it. This is how I die. Wanting a freaking kiss from a psycho -

“I thought you’d be the one to do that.”

Steve blinked vacantly at him. He could feel Billy’s heartbeat inside his ass and the guy just smiled -

“King Steve. Never thought you were shy - mmph.”

Billy’s bravado melted against Steve’s mouth. He hummed as he felt Steve’s precum on his belly, soaking them both with what he did to him, did to Steve and all of his flawed moral systems.

Steve pushed Billy onto his back with his kiss, tongue desperately tasting and exploring his mouth as his fingers laced behind Billy’s neck.

Until Billy reached up and pulled Steve’s hands apart, just enough for the bases of his palms to sit on both pulse points.

Billy did it himself: made his cheeks go pink and his chest flush red. But Steve made his ass slap against Billy’s thighs. Made Billy’s jaw go slack and his orgasm slow. Made his eyes water and his chest heave when he could breathe again.

Maybe that was his chance. His chance to make things right.

But with an empty Sheriff’s office down the road, and still no one the wiser, Hawkins wasn’t living by any sort of right anymore. The only right that Steve knew, was Billy’s hands making him feel powerful and precious.

Chapter Twelve

Summary:  Steve came up with an idea for their group project and shares his idea with reader. We also learn a lot more about this version of Steve and a hidden talent that he later shares with reader.

Warnings:  swearing, mentions of masturbation (super small), anxiety, mentions of religion/faith (super small), description of a rocky father/son relationship, LOTS OF FLUFF, awkwardness, mentions of the tv show Supernatural * I think that's it but please let me know if I missed something*

Word count:  4,178 (roughly)

A/N:  So no Bucky in this chapter but he'll be there next chapter, I already have a big chunk of stuff written with him, so don't worry. This is a bit of a long chapter, I got carried away and I promise the tags aren't as serious as they seem, I just wanted to add everything I could think of. Hope you like it.

He finally told her, and now, they had a real shot of being together, and that made him happier than he’s ever been, he couldn’t stop smiling.

She loves me too, y/n loves me…

Now back at home, your brain could safely tune out everything outside of your conversation with Bucky. Your whole body was on autopilot as your feet moved you through the familiar maze that was the layout of your home, seeming to move on their own accord. Your mind seemed to only be able to focus on one thing, and one thing only…Bucky. You couldn’t help the smile that found its way to your lips as you recalled the way his lips felt against yours, your fingertips coming up to touch your lips, still not quite believing everything that had taken place.

Before you knew it, you found yourself in the bathroom, running a hot bath, warm, dry clothes on the counter waiting for you. Your conscious mind may have been consumed with thoughts of Bucky, but your subconscious brain seemed to realize that you were soaked to the bone and freezing. You were thankful that at least some part of your brain had taken pity on your state as you sank into the hot water, steam rising all around you as you closed your eyes, letting out a deep sigh as the water started warming you up.

With your eyes closed, laying back in the steaming water …you smiled. You were happy, really happy. Bucky had told you that he loved you, and regardless of whether or not the two of you evolved into a couple, that knowledge alone filled you with such warmth and joy. You knew you needed to really think of the pros and cons of moving away from the friendship you’ve always known and instead towards a relationship, to really think about whether or not it was something you really wanted. You knew this, you knew you needed to make that decision, but you couldn't force yourself out of this little bubble you found yourself in after hearing the words Bucky had to say to you, feeling his lips against yours…

Everything in your mind came to a halt as your phone rang, vibrating against the side of the tub. Fearing the vibrations would send your phone straight into the water below, you reached for it and answered the call hastily.

“Hey, Steve, what’s up?” You asked cheerily.

“Uh…hey y/n…you good?” He questioned, seemingly suspicious of your obvious good mood.

You giggled, “I am most definitely good Steve,” you sat up a little, the water sloshing as you moved, “What's up?”

“Are-are you…in the…bathtub?” He asked incredulously.

You giggled again at hearing the tone in his voice, “Yea I am, I got all wet because of the rain and it made me super cold, so I figured a hot bath was warranted.”

“Uh…okay. Well, I’ll,” He cleared his throat before continuing, “I’ll go ahead and let you go so you can…enjoy your bath.”

“It’s fine Steve, really,” you assured him, “Everything okay?”

“Yea…just wanted to run an idea for the group project by you, get your thoughts on it.”

“Oh okay, what’s your idea?”

“Well…it’s kinda dumb. But what about doing like a-like a comic book type thing?”

“Oh my god, Steve! That’s-that’s a great idea! It would definitely help the three of us stand out with it being so original, I doubt anyone else could come up with such a good idea. Nice job Steve!”

You could tell he was self-conscious about the idea and assumed you’d think it would be stupid, but it was quite the opposite, it was a really good idea.

He let out a small chuckle, “You think so?”

“Absolutely Steve! I’m actually really excited about that idea,” you gushed, “But…there is one potential problem…none of us are good with art stuff, and that’s a big part of comics. We’ll have to figure that out.” You said, already running through possible solutions in your head.

“Well…I,” He sighed nervously, “are you busy later? Maybe we can meet up and brainstorm, I can show you some of the stuff I’ve come up with so far.”

Mentally checking your ‘schedule’ you answered him, “No, I don’t think so. But with the rain, I really don’t want to have to go back out. I…I get a little nervous when the weather gets this bad.” You told him sheepishly.

“If you’re comfortable with it, I can…uh…I can come over to your house,” He said timidly, “Or if you’re not comfortable with that we can figure something else out, it’s not a problem.” He rushed.

That was incredibly thoughtful of Steve, even if he didn’t fully understand why you didn’t want to drive in the rain.

“That works for me, I’m not sure what time my mom will be home from work, but I can let her know you’ll be here so if she does come home while you’re here, she won’t freak out if she sees a vehicle she doesn’t recognize.”

“That’s smart,” he chuckled, “What time works best for you?”

“Honestly if you wanna head over now that would be fine or if later works better, that’s fine too. I don’t have anything going on, I’m about to get outta the tub anyways, the water is cold now,” You laughed.

He laughed with you, “Well, we can’t have that now, can we?”

“Exactly!”

“Okay, well lemme grab all my stuff and get it together and I’ll head that way. Sound good?”

Standing up from the water and reaching for a towel, “Yup, sounds good. Getting out now, I’ll be ready in in a few minutes.”

“‘Kay, see you in a few. Bye.”

“Bye Steve, see you soon.”

Hanging up the phone you quickly dried off and started the process of putting on your clothes, choosing to go with some warm, fuzzy socks, dark wash jeans and a red long-sleeved Henley that Bucky had left over at some point, it still smelled faintly of him, and the thought made you smile. Afterwards, you picked up your phone and scrolled through your contacts to select your mom’s number, pressing dial, listening to the line ring as you gathered the laundry hamper that held your wet clothes to put them in the wash.

“Hey honey, you doing, okay? This storm snuck up on us all, how are you holding up?” Your mom asked, concern evident in her voice.

“I’m okay mom. Had a bit of a freak out at school but…uh…but Bucky helped me out and I’m home safe and sound now, took a hot bath and I’m okay, feeling much better.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry baby, I’m glad Bucky was there for you. Do you need me to come home, this storm is supposed to get pretty bad later on? I-I can’t make any promises, things are hectic, but I can try.”

“No, that’s okay momma, that’s actually why I was calling. You remember that group project that me and Bucky and Steve are working on? Well, Steve came up with a really awesome idea and he’s gonna come over so he can show me some of his research and we can brainstorm a bit, I’m gonna call Bucky to see if he can come over too since it’s a group project but he isn’t home yet. But I just wanted to let you know in case you saw an unfamiliar car parked out front. Don’t want you calling the cops,” you chuckled.

“Oh okay. Yea that’s fine baby, go ahead and use the credit card to order some pizza for you guys if you want, you know where it’s at hon.”

“Thanks, momma. You want anything?”

“No, I’ll probably be working pretty late today so I’ll eat before I head home probably. Just let me know when Steve or Bucky gets there, okay? I’ll let you know when I’m headed home. I love you.”

“Love you too, and I will.”

After putting the laundry detergent in the machine and selecting the right cycle, you grabbed your phone again to call Bucky, your heart beating a little faster than normal at the prospect of speaking to him after your shared confession but sadly he didn’t answer, instead, you were met with his voicemail.

“Hi, you’ve reached Bucky Barnes, I can’t come to the phone right now so feel free to leave a message and I’ll get back to ya as soon as I can.”

BEEP

“Hey, Buck...um…God, can’t remember the last time I had to leave you a voicemail,” you chuckled nervously, “But anyways, Steve is coming over to work on our project, he came up with a super neat idea that I wanna try and work with and since it’s a group project I wanted to see if you could come over too, there’ll be free pizza…so um…call me back when you can. Bye.” The words rushed out of your mouth in a nervous jumble.

God, what an idiot.

Before you could think too much about your awkwardness, you heard a knock on the door indicating Steve was finally there, so you made your way to the door and opened it for him. You saw he was mostly dry thanks to the umbrella he brought with him, which let’s be honest…genius move.

“Hey y/n.” he greeted you with a big smile on his face.

You motioned with your hand for him to come in as you greeted him, letting him know he could take off his shoes if he wanted, which he did, it was the only part of his ensemble that the umbrella wasn’t able to protect completely.

Leaving the wet umbrella on the porch, he made his way inside, “Thanks,” he said as he set his bag down on the couch and looked around before following you further into the house, “Nice place.”

“Um, thanks, it’s just me and mom so things are a bit mismatched, but it works for us,” she smiled, “What do you like on your pizza? My mom is gonna be stuck at work until later tonight, so she said to order pizza.”

Steve stood there, fidgeting from time to time, “Um…I’m okay with just about anything, what do you usually get?” He asked.

“I’m pretty easy, cheese or pepperoni.” You explained, laughing at your unadventurous taste.

He nodded and smiled, “Works for me.”

You were about to turn around to make the call and order the pizza when you noticed how uncomfortable he looked, “Um…are you okay?”

He looked up at you with wide eyes, like he had been caught stealing, “Yea-yea I’m okay. I just…I thought your mom would be home is all.”

“Oh…” you replied, visibly confused.

Steve must have noticed your confusion, “Oh, no no no. It’s not…it’s just,” he cleared his throat nervously, fidgeting a bit more, “It’s just that you’re a girl and I’m a guy and we’re…unsupervised?” Questioning that last word, not quite committed to the term with a shy smirk.

Oh.

“Well, I’m sorry she’s not here, if-if you’re uncomfortable we-”

“No, no it’s fine. Honest. I’m just…I’ve never…” he laughed at himself nervously, “I’m just an idiot, that’s all. I’m-I’m good.”

“You’re not an idiot Steve, don’t say that about yourself.” You chastised him.

He looked down at his feet and smiled shyly. “Okay, okay. To be honest…I’ve never been alone with a girl before and I’m not sure what the proper etiquette is.” He finished, looking back up at you.

This was news to you, you had seen the girls Steve has dated since you’ve known him, but regardless, you didn’t want him to be uncomfortable.

“Oh, okay…well, if you want to leave you can, I don’t want you to be uncomfortable Steve. I tried to get ahold of Bucky to see if he could come over too since it is a group project, but he didn’t answer, not sure why, but he’s not home yet either.”

“Honestly y/n, I’m okay. I just…didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable either. But I’m okay, I can stay.” He assured you, smiling brightly at you, already seeming more at ease.

You nodded and smiled, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “Okay, well just let me know if anything I do makes you uncomfortable, okay?”

“Okay, as long as you do the same.”

Now that you’d both come to an agreement and cleared the air so to speak, you went into the kitchen to order a large pepperoni and a large cheese for you and Steve as he leaned against the counter with his arms over his chest. You still hadn’t heard from Bucky, which was weird, but you had some time to kill before the pizza got there so you gave Steve the obligatory house tour before settling down on the couch.

“What do you wanna watch?” you asked Steve, as you navigated your way to the Netflix homepage.

“Hmmm…I dunno. What have you been watching lately?” He asked thoughtfully.

“Well, I’ve been watching Supernatural a lot lately, it’s a really good show, but I also haven’t finished The Blacklist or Criminal Minds.”

He asked what each of the shows were about, never having watched them before but after explaining the premise of Supernatural and seeing your enthusiasm for it, he decided he wanted to watch that with you. You told him you’d restart the series at episode 1 so he wouldn’t be lost and then you both got settled in as the screen displayed a beautiful family getting ready for the night.

Before long, Steve was REALLY invested, the moment he saw that the father was in fact downstairs and not with the baby, he sat up a little straighter. You decided that watching Steve’s reactions to what was happening was your new favorite thing, he made these small gasps and even said: “What the fuck” several times, which surprised you, Steve didn’t typically curse that often, but he had already done it a handful of times before the title came across the screen, not even five minutes into the episode.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

You got up from your seat slowly, glancing back to the tv every few steps, and went to open the door for the delivery driver, taking the pizza and thanking him before shutting it again and locking it. Steve was glued to the screen as you put the pizza on the coffee table, so you quickly grabbed a few plates and two sodas, some napkins just in case from the kitchen before you sat back down and divvied up the slices, handing a plate to Steve.

“Thanks y/n, this show is super good by the way.” He said, holding the plate underneath him as he took a bite, not taking his eyes away from the scene that started it all.

Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days…

You smiled at Steve’s enthusiasm.

Yea, this is definitely gonna be a thing we do now.

Steve was a red-blooded American teenager, and although he made the decision to abstain until marriage for the sake of his faith, he wasn’t a saint. He found it incredibly difficult to continue a casual conversation with y/n with the knowledge that she was taking a hot both on the other end of the phone and he couldn’t control the way his body reacted to that news either, as much as he wanted to. Now, Steve wasn’t above masturbation, he personally believed it helped him stay truer to his faith by managing any temptations that came his way, but he couldn’t bring himself to work one out before going to y/n’s house, feeling it would be wrong since it was picturing her taking a bath that made him feel this way. So instead, Steve took several minutes to calm down, trying to imagine anything other than y/n naked, surrounded by hot water.

C’mon Rogers, get it together, don’t be a creep.

Now in his truck, Steve thought about what he was about to do…telling y/n about his secret passion filled him with dread, nobody knew about it outside of his mother and grandfather. The thought of someone else knowing made him extremely nervous, even if it was y/n. She was a kind and caring person and he expected nothing less than her typical tenderness and warmth once he disclosed his secret, but he was still apprehensive, to say the least. This was an incredibly personal thing for him and sharing it left him feeling raw and exposed, vulnerable.

Steve discovered his love for art completely by accident one day during his middle school years, back when his family lived somewhere on the West Coast, they moved so much Steve didn’t pay much attention to exactly where. It started as a small interest, but he quickly found himself spending hours and hours honing in his technique and perfecting his passion. Soon enough, Steve found that art had really become a secret escape, his saving grace against the world around him, more specifically, against his father.

Joseph Rogers was a career military man, he quickly became the world’s leading expert in his chosen field that regularly required him to travel the globe to lead lectures and seminars, benefiting not only those in the military sector but also the general public as well. Steve’s father was well known, and his reputation preceded him, he’d been a part of the institution since long before Steve was born, long before he met Steve’s mother even, and that sense of loyalty and patriotism was something Steve admired about his father, but it often left their relation lacking. Joseph was not a typical dotting father, he never displayed the warmth and love one would generally display towards their only son, the only times he really seemed interested in Steve or seemed a little bit proud was when Steve did well in football, so Steve stuck with it, knowing his father would be disappointed if he chose not to.

Now, Steve didn’t hate his father, far from it in fact, he was strict and overbearing, always wanting too much from Steve, but he had his moments where the uniform and rank slipped away and before him was just his father, the man he loved and respected. But he often found himself wishing they had a better relationship, he was always trying to gain his father’s approval and Steve knew that art was not the path to take to win over his father’s favor. While Steve was thankful for the discipline that training and football brought him, he just wanted to live his own life, out from under his father’s foot, and that’s why Steve decided to go away to college immediately following graduation, planning to get his degree so that when he enlisted, he’d go in at a much higher rank. He didn’t want his father there to influence his decisions about college and the military, once he turned 18, his life was his own. His only regret would be leaving his mother, she meant a great deal to him.

Finally reaching y/n’s house, Steve saw that it was just her truck in the driveway.

Well, looks like her mom isn’t home. Shit.

Knowing her mom wasn’t home made Steve’s anxiety even worse, it would have regardless of whether or not he liked y/n, and he very much did like her, so this was a new thing for Steve, but he made his way up the steps anyway, knocking on the door timidly.

Steve couldn’t believe how awkward he had been, explaining to her that being alone with her made him uncomfortable.

Nice way to win her over idiot.

After some fumbling on both their parts, they seemed to come to an agreement and soon they fell into a comfortable silence waiting for the pizza, watching a show y/n was crazy about, he could see it on her face when she explained it to him a bit and he decided he’d give it a try.

God, she’s so beautiful when she’s excited about something.

Very quickly though, his interest in the show was less about how much y/n loved it and more about his own enjoyment, it was a really good show, and he could see why she liked it so much, he felt rude not offering to help y/n with getting everything for the pizza but damn, this show was good!

Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days…

“Oh my god.” He said around a mouthful of cheese pizza, completely enthralled.

It didn’t take long for them to finish off their pizza, y/n sat up and started cleaning up.

“Here, lemme help with that.” He said, making a motion to stand up and lend a hand, but y/n cut him off.

“No no, it’s okay Steve, go ahead and watch. You need to pay attention, you’re about to find out what’s going on.” She said, smiling at him and jutting her head towards the tv.

He nodded and gave his thanks before setting his attention back to the tv, y/n was right, things were getting good. And before he knew it, y/n was back on the couch, and they sat there together and finished the episode.

“Damn y/n, I can see why you like this show so much.” He said, smiling at her.

“I’m glad you like it!” She gushed, “How about we sit and watch it together whenever we can?”    

And spend more time with you? I’m in!

“That sounds like a great idea to me!”

“Awesome, okay, we have to promise not to watch without each other, okay?” Hey eyes sparkled.

“Yea, okay, I can do that.” He smiled wide at her.

“Alright then, it’s settled.” She smiled shyly before looking down at her lap.

After a silent moment or two, they both agreed it was time to start working on their project, with or without Bucky. As they made their way to the table, Steve took out a few books for their project, a notebook and a pen and pencil out of his bag, stalling.

“Lemme go grab my book bag from upstairs really quick, all my stuff’s in there.” Y/n said before she did just that.

Steve sat there, literally twiddling his thumbs with nervousness until she returned and when she did, she smiled at him before sitting down. Now at the table with all the things they needed, Steve grew nervous again, it was time.

Now or never Rogers…

“So…” Steve began hesitantly,” You remember how you said that we had one big problem about doing a comic book for our project?”

She looked at him, “Yea…”

Steve didn’t say anything as he reluctantly reached over to open his bag and slipped his hand inside, clutching the portfolio for a moment before finally pulling it out and sliding it across the table to y/n.

He had never been so nervous as she silently opened the folder to the first page inside, her eyes became wide, and she softly felt the page with her fingertips.

“Oh Steve, this is…this is beautiful. Did you make this?” She said, completely entranced by the artwork in front of her.

“Yea…it’s a…it’s a hobby of mine.”

She was speechless as she continued turning the pages, seeing the artwork in front of her. The portfolio was a mix of various mediums, watercolor, charcoal, regular ole’ pencil, and even some colored pencil pieces.

“What’s this about?” She laughed as she pointed to the sketch he made of a monkey on a unicycle that was wearing his football jersey.

“Just how I feel sometimes, football really isn’t my thing, but my dad is kind of a hard-ass about it so…” He shrugged.

“I’m so sorry Steve, I had no idea.” She said, placing her hand on his arm comfortingly.

Going back to the portfolio, she flipped over some more pages and Steve realized which page she was about to land on, he decided at the last minute when gathering his things earlier not to take it out before showing her, not really knowing why, but he left it in there anyways.

Her eyes landed on an intricate watercolor painting of herself smiling with her camera in tow at a football game, and she gasped.

She looked up at him questioningly and he cupped the back of his neck nervously, “Um…I'm-I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, it was just... it was just something I couldn’t get outta my head after the football game the other day. Sorry.” He could feel the blush on his cheeks.

“Don’t apologize, Steve, it’s okay, I’m not upset.” She smiled sweetly at him, noticing a slight blush on her cheeks as well. “Thank you for painting me, you’re incredibly talented.”

“Thanks…I had a good subject.” He chuckled, still nervous.

She didn’t say anything as she smiled shyly, but he noticed she did blush more before she looked down, continuing to look at his artwork.

Well, pretty sure she knows I’m crushing on her hard now.

Chapter Eleven Next Chapter

Fic: Of Comic Books and Sushi

Summary: When his dad’s visit to him at college clashes with an important class, Neal asks his roommate Belle to look after his dad for a few hours. Belle takes it upon herself to introduce Neal’s father to the wonders that Boston has to offer. 

Written for the @a-monthly-rumbelling prompt: Trying something new for the first time.

Rated: G

=====

Of Comic Books and Sushi

Belle would admit to being somewhat nervous about meeting Neal’s dad properly for the first time. She’d met him in passing, obviously, over the course of the two years that she and Neal had been roommates, but this would be the first time that she was meeting him without Neal there as well, and she was anxious to make a good impression.

Especially since the very first time that she had ever seen the man, she had been wearing a bright pink fleece onesie with ‘Princess Fabul-ass’ embroidered on the butt, with her hair in a towel turban and a bright green mud mask on her face. She had never fully forgiven Neal for not warning her that his dad was coming that day, and the onesie, a gag gift from Ruby, had never been worn again despite its cosiness. 

She didn’t even know why she was so nervous; it wasn’t like she was dating Neal. 

In fact, it was probably quite a good thing that she wasn’t dating Neal, because if she remembered correctly, having got over her initial mortification, Mr Gold was really rather attractive. Ruby had said that her liking for older men would get her into hot water one day, and if having a sort-of crush on your roommate’s dad didn’t constitute hot water, then she didn’t know what did. 

She had the sudden urge to kill someone in the art department, because it wasn’t Neal’s fault that he was leaving her alone with his dad for three hours. One of his presentations, a pivotal one which counted towards his final grade, had been rescheduled at the last possible moment, and since he couldn’t cancel it, he’d had to draft in Belle to keep his dad entertained. 

How on earth was she supposed to do that? Neal had probably already shown his dad all of Boston’s usual tourist attractions on his previous visits, and it would be awkward indeed for them to just sit in the apartment for the entire time. 

There was a knock on the door and Belle gulped. It was zero hour. She checked her appearance in the mirror. Although he had, thankfully, seen her looking much better than she had been for their first meeting, Belle was still acutely aware that she had never seen Mr Gold himself looking anything less than pristine. 

Finally, she opened the door; it wouldn’t do to keep him waiting after all. When she got a good look at him, Belle had to double take, and she was sure that she stood gaping at him for at least five minutes before either of them spoke. 

“You cut your hair,” she said. As greetings went, it could have been worse. 

“Yes, I decided that it was time for a change. And hello to you too, Miss French. How are you?”

“It looks great. I mean, you look great. I mean, I’m great, thanks for asking. Do you want to come in for a cup of tea? Has Neal explained the situation to you?” 

She stepped aside to let him in, aware that she was gabbling but unable to stop herself. 

“Yes, he told me that he was leaving me in your capable hands. Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Belle busied herself with kettle and teabags, deciding to break out the teapot since was an occasion - well, a guest - that merited a bit of class. Hopefully, making the tea would distract her enough that she wouldn’t do or say anything that she might regret after the heat of the moment had passed. 

Because Mr Gold did look great, as did his short hair. If she’d found him attractive before, then he was practically sex on legs now. Good God, had she actually thought that phrase, and in connection with her roommate’s dad, as well? She really shouldn’t be thinking of him in that way. Neal was like a brother to her, which meant that Mr Gold should have been like a father to her, and… 

Nope. She brought the teapot over and poured two cups. Nope, the feelings that she was feeling now were definitely in no way familial. 

“So, did you have any plans for today, Miss French? I know that this isn’t exactly how you were anticipating spending your Friday.”

“You can call me Belle, Mr Gold, honestly. And no, you’re not interrupting anything. I was going to go to the comic store and treat myself to some sushi for lunch, but that’s probably not your thing.”

“Believe it or not, Miss French, I have never actually done either of those things before, so I wouldn’t know if it was my thing or not.” He paused, and there was the smallest hint of a shy smile on his face. “If you don’t want an old curmudgeon cramping your style, then I completely understand, but I’ll happily tag along with you if I may.”

“Sure, of course.” Well, at least that solved the problem of what they were going to do whilst they waited for Neal. “You’ve seriously never had sushi?”

“Never.”

“Mr Gold, you are missing out. Let me just get my coat and we’ll head out as soon as the tea’s drunk. You’re in for a treat, I promise you.”

“Lead on, MacFrench.”

X

If Mulan was alarmed when Belle brought Mr Gold into the comic store then she didn’t show it. Unlike some (mostly young, white, and male) comic store proprietors that Belle had met in her time of frequenting them, Mulan didn’t care who read comics; the more the merrier in her opinion. She would always try to convert any newcomer who walked through her doors, from any walk of life.

“Do you come here a lot?” Mr Gold asked Belle as she browsed the racks. She wanted to find something that he would enjoy and that he could bond with Neal over. Belle knew that their relationship had been very strained during Neal’s high school years and they were both working hard to recover it. Which was probably why she shouldn’t be throwing a spanner in the works by being attracted to Mr Gold.

“Yes, it’s like a second home. Well, a third after the library. Neal and I met through this place, actually, I don’t know if he’s ever told you. There was a tiny little comics convention up on campus and Mulan had a stall there. Neal and I were both looking and tada, the perfect partnership was born.” She paused. “We’re trying to make our own comic, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’m writing and Neal’s drawing.” It made sense, after all. She was studying English and library science and he was studying art.

“He’s never mentioned it to me.”

“You should ask him about it. The concept sketches he’s done for it are amazing.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing them.” Mr Gold still sounded rather mind-blown by the concept. “What���s it about?”

“It’s an Alice in Wonderland story, with a twist. All of the characters are human, but it’s still set in a fantasy psychotopia. It’s kind of hard to explain, but it’ll be great if we ever get it finished.”

“I’m sure that it will, with you two at the helm.” It wasn’t just a polite platitude Belle could tell that he really meant it, and something in her heart turned a somersault at his words. 

She turned back to the racks of comics before she could do something that she regretted, hoping that Mr Gold wouldn’t notice her blush. She grabbed the latest Harley Quinn for herself and a new Thor for Neal, holding it out to Mr Gold. 

“That’s one of the ones Neal’s reading at the moment,” she said. “After the morning that he’s had, I’m sure that he’d be glad to see it.”

Mr Gold nodded, picking up on the unspoken suggestion as he took the comic from her. “Thank you, Miss French.”

“It’s Belle, really.”

Mr Gold shook his head. “Only if you call me Andrew.”

Belle was about to protest that she couldn’t do that, that he was her friend’s dad and she needed to address him with the appropriate level of respect, but something stopped her. They were both adults after all, and on an equal footing. And he had offered her his first name, so presumably he was fine with her using it. 

“Ok… Andrew.”

It didn’t feel as weird as she thought it might, and she was rewarded with his shy little smile again. 

“Thank you, Belle.”

She watched him go over to the cash desk, where Mulan immediately started regaling him with the best reading order for the series if he wanted to get into it himself, and Belle had to take a moment to take stock of what had just happened. 

She was on first name terms with Neal’s dad now. They’d definitely turned a corner in their relationship, and if she wasn’t very much mistaken, then he’d definitely wanted to turn that corner with her. 

What on earth would Neal think?

Forget Neal, well, for the next couple of hours at least. She could deal with him when the time came, and if he was her best friend then he might be weirded out for a couple of weeks but would hopefully come around to the idea, and honestly, nothing might come of it after all.

Belle really hoped that it would, though. 

Her stomach gave an aptly timed growl, reminding her of the other object of their trip out today, and she hurried to pay for her own title, steering the now somewhat overwhelmed Andrew away from Mulan and out into the street. 

“Sushi?” she asked hopefully. Andrew nodded.

“It’s certainly a day of new experiences, that’s for sure.”

“Mulan’s harmless really. She just wants to spread her passion around.”

Belle and Neal’s favourite sushi restaurant was only round the corner from the comic store, a little hole in the wall place that was all but hidden away unless you knew where to look for it. Belle was happy to take charge, ordering all of her favourites and the usual things that she would start beginners with, and the talk turned back to the nebulous Alice idea whilst they waited for their food to arrive, with hilarity ensuing as Belle tried to teach Andrew how to hold chopsticks properly. 

It was only when she was holding her fingers over his on the slim wood to adjust his grip that she came to a frightening realisation. 

They were basically on a date. 

She paused for a moment, letting her head get around it, weighing up the pros and cons. On the one hand, Neal was probably going to kill her, but on the other hand, she really couldn’t bring herself to care. She was having a good time, and even if this was the last time she saw Andrew, she wouldn’t regret it. She didn’t even regret it when Neal called, breaking up the moment. 

“Hi Belle, it’s all over now, thank God. Where are you?”

“Hi Neal. We’re in Kokoro. How did it go?”

“It was fine, I don’t get the result till Monday… Wait, did you say that you were in Kokoro?”

“Yes.”

“With my dad?”

“Yes.”

“My dad is eating sushi?”

“Well, he’s attempting to, his chopstick skills need honing.”

“I…” There was a stunned silence at the other end of the phone for a long time. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to see this to believe it.”

Belle just laughed as Neal hung up. Knowing that their little moment would be over soon, she raised her cup of tea to Andrew’s in a toast.

“To discovering new things.”

“Yes.” He paused. “Thank you, Belle. I’ve had an unusual, but very pleasant, morning, and I can’t fault the company.”

Belle smiled. “Thank you. The same goes for me.”

It was an open invitation for the both of them, the knowledge that they had enjoyed spending time together without Neal, and they would take the opportunity to do it again some time. 

She had to grin as she saw Neal staring at them from outside the restaurant, and she waved. Only time would tell, but she was very confident that something could happen from this.

⚜ ; [ TWILI LANGUAGE / HC.4  ]     WORLDBUILDING │ LANGUAGE LANG. POSTS: HYLIAN /

alright, so... in my last post about the hylian language. i talk about like.... its roots and what it would really sound like phonetic wise and whatnot. && if you haven’t read it, then go ahead and click the ‘hylian’ link above. I do go into some detail about it. but to sum it up: it’s latin based. granted thats a lot to really cover and very generalised but i mean i can’t go into detail about the different dialects of all hylian. just know that there are different dialects of hylian: zelda speaks differently than link as link was raised in a village in ordon and zelda is a princess and comes from a different region. ganon also speaks a bit differently since he is gerudo and yet from ANOTHER region.... like all three of them speak hylian: but they have different words & phrases. but... i mean in general hylian is latin based with a bit of japanese and/or arabic in there too ( it just depends on region )

but i want to talk about midna speech && the twili language! cause it is different! all going under a read more cause i don’t know how long this will be.

as always, you guys are free to look at this, but please try not to take what i’ve researched without asking. with the twili language, i have a lot of sources that i’m looking at. a majority (if not all) of this stuff i have written is stuff that i have made ( or at least taken into consideration for ). The videos/people i source just happen to she the same exact thoughts and can put it into better words than i can.

PLEASE DO NOT TAKE OR USE WITHOUT PERMISSION. DO NOT REBLOG OR REUSE THIS FOR YOUR OWN HC. 

regardless of game. 

I work hard on my HCs, i do not want this to be snatched up. if you want to discuss, then lets discuss. I have similar HC for many of the LOZ games mainly in Skyward Sword & Breath of the Wild. I am more than willing to share if you come and discuss with me. otherwise, DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING from this post without permission.

The other day i found this page. while i always kinda knew that midna talking was always garbled & scrambled, i never really had the patience to really.... sit down and look for actual videos where they unscrambled midna’s lines. that and i honestly forgot too cause it’s been a hot minute since i played tp.... so im glad this was actually on my recommended the other day -- it’s like chrome knows that i am looking for things like this.....

anyway.... so i bring it up to attention cause i had been honestly looking for resources & stuff for the twili language. I mentioned that it was a little primitive in nature because it is! i just didn’t know how to correctly consider it without straying TOO far from canon. i like to make meta out of stuff that’s formed from the game. but like to go into more detail about it. 

anyway. like i said. twili is technically still considered hylian! its.... like how midna’s voice suggests.... very scrambled/jumbled. it’s not backwards per say... its... just jumbled! it’s a bit like... typoglycemia but the phonetic version of it. ( if there is a phonetic version of it ). mind you, this is NOT the same as the twili language written out. twili has its OWN scriptures!!! that’s different than hylian!!! just that their SPEECH is garbled/jumbled. 

Think of it like.... in Spy Kids. when they make the clones?? yea and they can’t talk so it sounds garbled?? LIKE THIS. yea exactly like that. okay but here: have that video that shows midna talking though:

she.... just.... i love her... anyway.. so yea. anyway...

the twili language is really weird cause their speech patterns are very.... different. it’s not as... sophisticated as the standard hylian but that’s because it’s more ancient & didn’t have much to evolve over the years. it’s pretty standard comparing it to the more.... older languages. but yea. 

also another side thing to conisder, because i said this in my last post:

Let’s also not forget that i also mentioned that twili is a FORM of hylian ( so possibly you can see latin & arabic roots there ). But we aren’t talking about twili language this is strictly hylian. so back to hylian.

Now without really talking all that much about the gerudo ( cause honestly..... thats also a language/dialect in itself ), let me present you guys with this theory video:

to sum it up: the video considers that.... the twili are gerudo or at least have some part of gerudo in them ( mixed races, etc. etc. etc. ) It also brings up the idea that.... Gerudo are capable of magic, which the twili are known for ( in this case it is dark magic ). Its a bit of a stretch, and im going down an even deeper rabbit hole, but i bring this up because.... i do, in fact, see twili to be a bit more arabic than any other language at least in TP.

so... say it simply: twili is a garbled-ish form of arabic with some latin roots.

Lets also look at the fact that the twili world can only be entered through a MIRROR. a world in a state of perpetual dusk. a world that is on the opposite side of the coin. in a way... a world almost like a mirror to hyrule: but smaller and... a bit different. whats funny is that in english ( or latin ) words are written from left to right. and justified left. arabic: to my knowledge, is the the other way around. and in manga: the correct way to read things is from right to left. 

IM not saying that the twilight language is a BACKWARDS language. cause it’s not. it’s way more complex than that, but you cannot look at it directly in the normal way. I bring it up cause the scriptures... are very different than hylain. while it may be easier to understand what a twili says, it’s HARD to read what what they’ve written. because its.... not normal.

twili do not write or read in straight lines. Midna, when she comes to hyrule, understands that hylians write in straight lines. and she can pick it up cause... its... different... and honestly easier despite it’s sophistication. 

but thats the difference!! normal hylian is simple & easy cause it isn’t all over the place. Twili honestly is what a 4 or 5 year old would draw or write. i.e.: it’s all over the place. I would show you some twili font, however, i cannot due to the fact that there isn’t much. and by that i mean, there is literally nothing that i can go off of. however, I would like to show you guys this:

This is the CURTAIN OF TWILIGHT. while i don’t think it was their intention to make this look like a language let alone words ( i think they just tried to make it seem look archaic ), i do have to say that the twili language LOOKS like this. by this, i mean that its everywhere. there isn’t a single line for it. it’s.... everywhere. normal people wouldn’t be able to read twili: they would consider it just scribbles and random designs. however, twili can read it. I would have to look for a comic that shows link looking around and finding twilight artefacts, but its a lot like the cave art that we have in places that bring up our own ancestors.

an artist actually...??? made up their own design for a twili font that i actually like?? HERE is that link for the font. and I really do like how they have the radicalised twili syntax because it’s very, VERY similar to how i would probably want to see the twili written as. Please know that this is Undying Nephalim’s tribute to the twilight language. this isn’t something that i made or even discussed with them. I just found this like months ago. i am using it as a guide to show you what i can see twili looking like. 

i’ll end it here for now cause im kinda at a lostt to what else i should say but.... please feel free to let me know what you guys think and if you guys like this. I’m sure i’ll have more some other time.

Artist

It’s @chlonathweek day 5 and we gettin angsty up in here~

***

“No, Chloé. Since Sabrina will be out of town for the rest of the week, you’ll have to pick a different partner for the art project.”

When he was six years old, Nathaniel’s mother had told him that life was about opportunities. Every moment was an opportunity, from the greatest of life’s changes to the smallest of life’s details. Every moment was a choice—a choice of stay or go, a choice of start or stop, a choice of do or don’t. Every choice had its consequences and it was on those consequences that human lives were decided. On those consequences that opportunities were taken.

And it was a simple fact of life, she had told him, that the consequences unknown, the opportunities left untaken, were the ones he would dwell on the most.

Perhaps it was the thought that he was sick of dwelling that brought Nathaniel to take the opportunity presented before him. That brought Nathaniel to raise his hand.

“I’ll do it.”

A general level of friendly chatter had sprouted in the class as students had begun discussing project plans, but conversation eased to halt then. He knew every set of eyes in the room was on him. His eyes were only focused on one.

“No,” she immediately said. She addressed the teacher, but those cold eyes never left him. “Madame Bustier, I’d prefer to do the project on my own.”

He tried not to let his fear show. He tried not to run from that soul-shaking gaze.

“Chloé, that would leave Nathaniel without a partner too. Plus, working with the class artist will be beneficial to your art grade.” In his peripheral, he saw Madame Bustier wave him forward. “Thank you for volunteering, Nathaniel. You can come sit next to Chloé for the rest of class.”

The twitch of her jaw. A look like murder. Then eye contact was broken and in just that split second before she turned to face forward again, Nathaniel swore he saw something more. Something painful.

If he did, it was hidden again by the time he was sitting down next to her. The rest of the class went on with their discussions, though he didn’t miss the glances of Marinette and Nino as they not-so-subtly spectated.

“What the fuck are you doing, Kurtzberg?” Chloé immediately snapped. “What do you want?”

“What’s the matter, Chloé?” he asked absently as he opened his sketch book to a new page. “I thought you’d be happy to have a partner who can do all the work for you.”

Wait. Shit. The words had slipped out almost as if reflex—fighting fire with fire. Except in this case, it was more like fighting a candle with a flamethrower.

Her jaw fell slightly ajar and her brows pinched together in fury. Her eyes though; swimming in her eyes was a splash of genuine hurt.

Chloé pressed her lips together and looked away without another word. She began gathering her supplies and throwing them in her purse. Guilt was an immediate led weight in his stomach and he knew that in his head, he would be kicking himself for many years to come for being rude to his fucking soulmate. Especially when he was actively trying to get closer to her.

“Wait, Chloé, I’m sorry.” He set his hand on her notebook just as she was reaching for it and that fed up look was on him again.

“Look, I don’t know why you wanted to be my partner and I don’t care. You’re right. You can do the project by yourself.” Even though he wasn’t holding the notebook hostage, she made a point to yank it out from under his hand. A moment later, she stood up and the school bell followed her out the door as if on cue.

He scrambled to grab his stuff and rushed out after her. She had a naturally fast walking pace, but she was definitely going faster than usual. “Chloé, wait!” She had already managed to make it to the school’s front door when he caught up to her. “Chloé!”

“Leave me alone, Kurtzberg,” she spat, still not slowing down.

“Wait!” He caught her wrist and the tips of his fingers met the exact mark that had started this all.

She spun to face him. “What!?”

He didn’t let go. He didn’t move. He was paralyzed under that icy gaze and he didn’t think this far and he didn’t know what to say but he needed to say something and, “The first time I ever spoke to you was when I defended Marinette’s floral design against you,” he blurted.

The worst possible combination of confusion and irritation. “So??”

“So…” His heart slammed against the inside walls of his chest and he knew he couldn’t turn back now. “That exact design is tattooed on the back of my left shoulder.”

At first, there was no change in her expression. It was as if her entire being had come to a screeching halt and the only thing her body knew to do was keep breathing. Then the wrinkles in her forehead softened the slightest bit as understanding took confusion’s place. Irritation, however, remained steady.

“Okay, and?”

He blinked. “And? Chloé, we’re—,”

“Soulmates?” she cut him off. “Yeah, I know. Newsflash, Kurtzberg,” she slipped from his grasp and held up her hand, putting his signature on display, “Your art gets spread around the school like wildfire. I’ve known for years.”

Years.

“Why didn’t you—?”

“Tell you? Are you serious? How was I supposed to tell you when you hated me from the start? When I had to watch you date someone else for two years, call someone else your soulmate for two fucking years? How was I supposed to tell you!?”

That cold fury didn’t budge, but now that hint of hurt he had seen earlier was as present as the guilt weighing heavy in his chest. Seeing her then, an avalanche of understanding came crashing down over his head. He doubted the pain he could clearly see now was even half of what she’d been holding inside. He didn’t know. He had no idea. This whole time, his soulmate was in pain because of him and he didn’t know.

“I… I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say but God that didn’t even begin to cover it.

“Yeah,” she said flatly. “Me too.”

With that, she turned to leave, and again, Nathaniel caught her wrist. Heaving a tired sigh of frustration, she faced him once again. “What do you want, Nathaniel?”

He didn’t know, if he was being honest.

In this moment, he wasn’t in love with her. He wasn’t desperately hoping to kiss her, nor did her clear displeasure with his presence make his heart break. His pulse didn’t spike from a look alone and his name on her tongue sounded no different from any other. She was beautiful—he would have to be blind not to see that—but he didn’t find himself sneaking peaks at her during class nor filling his sketchbook with her visage. When he woke in the morning, his first thought wasn’t of her and he didn’t see her face behind closed eyes when he lay down at night.

He didn’t know her favorite color or her favorite song. He couldn’t tell you what her pet peeves were or what tiny joys she found in life. He had no idea if she preferred the books or the movies, the comics or the show. He couldn’t possibly guess what seemingly harmless topic would spark a 10 minute rant, or what activities she secretly loved that she never wanted anyone to know. Did she like pineapple on pizza? Sprinkles on ice cream? Could she walk somewhere without listening to music? Did she take a water bottle with her everywhere? Chapstick? Lip gloss? Did she prefer writing with pen or pencil? Blue or black ink? Coffee or tea? Hot or iced?

He didn’t know. Chloé Bourgeois was, for all intents and purposes, a total and complete stranger. He didn’t even know if she was human.

“I want to know you,” he finally said.

“Why?”

She was listening. Giving him a chance. The anger was fading from her tone and though she sounded tired, for the first time since he saw her tattoo, he felt he might actually have a chance. An opportunity.

His grip on her wrist tightened the slightest bit, as if afraid that if he let go, she would leave and that opportunity would be lost forever. “Because I don’t know about you, but I know that it would be the biggest regret of my life if I never even tried to get to know my soulmate.”

The slight brightening of her eyes. The tiny intake of breath. It was subtle, almost nonexistent, but he didn’t miss it. The reaction to him calling her his soulmate.

“But you hate me,” she argued. He could hear her desire to fight subsiding with every word. “Don’t try to tell me that you don’t, because we both know that isn’t true.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I do.” His first impression of her had been awful and what he’d learned from Marinette after that had only made it worse. She was a bully, she was selfish, and with her father being the mayor and the richest man in Paris, she was also untouchable. He had never thought to look any deeper than that, because that was all the reason he’d needed to dislike her. But if she was his soulmate…

He shrugged, giving her the smallest of smiles. “And I’m clearly wrong.”

Chloé didn’t say anything. She stood there, looking back and forth between his eyes with an expression that he could only describe as exhausted and unsure. Eventually, her gaze dropped to where he still held her wrist.

With one last reluctant squeeze, he released her. She cradled the wrist in her other hand and swiped a thumb over the tattoo, staring at it as she thought.

“You’re right,” she finally said, voice low. When she looked up again, her usual air of confidence had returned. “You are wrong.” He couldn’t glean from her expression whether that was good or bad. He swallowed thickly, waiting on her every word. She let out a long breath, and with it, an immense weight seemed to ease off her shoulders. “And I probably am too.”

So…Did that mean…?

She fished her cell phone out of her purse and unlocked it. “Give me your number,” she said as she handed it over.

A flurry of pins and needles washed through him then as sincere blue eyes met his. It was the first time she had ever looked at him like that—ever looked at him with anything but antagonism. It wasn’t a happy look, but it was new. And it wasn’t…cold. Her eyes shined like the first day of spring and he could feel their warmth slowly spreading through him. It was a feat just to look away.

He tried not to let his fingers shake as he typed his information into her phone and handed it back.

“I’ll text you about the art project,” she said, and with one last look over her shoulder, walked away.

So Black it Shines

Jack is an occultist who just wants to solve his father's disappearance. Eric is a thief who just wants to do right by his mentor and help his friends. Together, they might be the only hope the sunless city of Duskwall has.

This is a crossover AU of Ngozi Ukazu's web-comic "Check Please!" with the setting from the role-playing game "Blades in the Dark" by John Harper. You don't need to know anything about either of them to (hopefully) enjoy this, but I highly recommend checking them out! They're some of my favorite things.

Thanks to Kirani for the beta!

Eric paused for a few heartbeats in the darkness of the late afternoon and peered from the top of the warehouse across a narrow alleyway to where a pair of double doors opened onto a small balcony. He had followed this particular rooftop route countless times before, and this was the part that had the greatest risk of discovery. Eric had discerned from the lingering smell of tobacco and discarded stubs that one of the clerks that worked in the converted manor house across the alley came out on the balcony to smoke from time to time. Should fate arrange a meeting between him and said clerk one night, it would be quite plain that Eric was up to no good; he was cloaked, hooded and veiled in a black that seemed to gather the shadows around him, armed with pistol and dagger and laden with the tools of a burglar.

Something the clerk might not realize until after Eric had vanished back into the night that always shrouded the sunless city of Duskwall, is that he carried no light with which to see in the darkness. There were numerous old wives’ tales about people who could see in the dark; it was said that ever since the Cataclysm shattered the sun, some people were born with dark gifts and darker hearts, and were driven to cruelty and murder. Eric didn’t consider himself particularly inclined to violence and was, in fact, perfectly normal until he went missing when he was thirteen. When he was found three days later with no memory of where he had been and some unsettling new abilities, it didn’t take much for the superstitious people of the Dunslough district to begin to whisper that he was not who he seemed. It was out of fear of what their neighbors might do that Eric’s parents agreed to apprentice him to Katya Ivankov, and so he had gone to train with her and learn the ways of the thief.

For the past five years, he had dutifully learned how to prowl the rooftops silently, how to pick locks and disable magical traps, and above all, how not to be seen. He used those carefully honed skills now to vault across the alleyway to the balcony and climb silently up the drainpipe to the roof of the building. It was a three-story hollow square and constructed of stone, with a small courtyard in the center. It was typical for the Charterhall district, being both ancient and wholly given over to the bureaucracy that kept the city from sliding into anarchy, and it also happened to be Eric’s preferred place to eat his dinner while he was in this district.

All thoughts of the hot meat pie in his satchel were set aside as Eric crested the rooftop and discovered that he was not alone. He slipped through the shadows and crouched behind one of the several chimney stacks that studded the rooftop and peered around it.

Two men were situated on the rooftop directly across the courtyard from him, illuminated with the harsh blue-white glow of their electroplasmic lamps. One of the men stood about a hand taller than Eric and had his back turned so that all that could be made out was his long brown hair that fell to his shoulders and the messenger bag slung across his back. He held his lamp aloft and moved it back and forth as if to ward away the darkness.

The second man was crouched near where Eric usually sat, and from the way his breath steamed out in a thick cloud despite the warmth of the evening, he was attuning himself to the ghost field.

Eric bit his lip in consternation; if this man was a skilled Whisper, someone who studied the arcane arts, he might be able to read Eric’s frequent presence on this rooftop from its echo in the ghost field.

Are these the hunters Katya has been afraid of? Eric settled deeper in the shadows and resolved to watch this scene play out, his trained eye picking out the details of the two men. The crouching man was handsome in a cold sort of way, with a few dark locks of hair that fell across his forehead. Except for his eyes, which looked almost colorless in the electric light, he was the image of imperial nobility, with pale skin, a chiseled jaw, and sharp cheekbones. His finely tailored waistcoat and pants reinforced the impression that he was someone from the upper classes. He was powerfully built but not visibly armed, though Eric knew that a Whisper didn’t need a weapon to be a threat.

Eventually, the man with the long hair turned so that Eric could see him clearly; he had a kind face, with curious green eyes and a gregarious mouth below a well-groomed mustache. Eric knew from experience that the appearance of kindness could hide a cruel heart, but he didn’t think that the obvious warmth and affection with which he regarded his companion was feigned. He didn’t seem to be armed either, but the messenger bag could easily be hiding some kind of weapon. His clothes were well made but of a rougher style; a brown jacket over a white shirt with suspenders. He seemed nervous, and absentmindedly fiddled with his lantern and smoothed the front of his jacket while he waited for his friend to finish surveying the local ghost field.

Eric was fairly certain, from their clothes and the careless way they stood in the open, that these men were not members of the criminal underworld like himself. The rooftops of Duskwall were the province of thieves and scoundrels, and if these men decided to make a habit of intruding so blatantly where they did not belong, they were in for a rude awakening.

Several minutes passed like this, as the crouching man’s distant gaze tracked unseen figments in the ghostly reflection of the city; it was silent save for the noise of people and carriages on the streets below. Finally, the man blinked and jolted as if startled awake and rose to his full height, even taller than his friend, who moved to stand beside him, eyes darting around the rooftop before they settled on his face with a look of concern. He stroked his neat mustache with two fingers and spoke.

“So, Jack? What’s the verdict?”

“I didn’t see him. I went back about two years, but if he came up here there’s no trace of it left. Someone else does come up here often, though.”

Eric’s mouth twisted with displeasure at the thought that bad luck had lead to his potential discovery by these men. Katya had been so careful to keep him separate from her affairs so that he could still move freely while she was confined to their shared lair.

“A clerk from the building? Or…”

“No.” The man, Jack, made a chopping motion with his hand, and strode up to the edge of the roof, looking down into the courtyard at the center of the building. His face betrayed no emotion other than an absolute focus, and his voice was confident. “Whoever it is, he dresses like a criminal. I think he’s involved somehow.”

“What does he even do up here?”

Jack deflated a bit and crossed his arms, perhaps in frustration, like he knew that the answer would somewhat undercut his decisive declaration. “He eats food while sitting on the edge of the roof and looks down into the courtyard.”

There was a pregnant pause before the other man walked up to Jack and gave him placating look and a clap on the shoulder. “If you think he’s connected then we’ll track him down. I know it seems like we don’t have much to go on now, but we’ll figure it out.”

Jack replied without looking at his friend in the face. “There has to be something more here, some reason that this place was in the journal.” His face hardened with resolve, and he continued, “I’m going down there and I’m going to get some answers, even if it means I have to go back all the way to the Cataclysm.”

He actually sounds like he thinks he could pull that off. Eric shivered in the dark. Anyone with a little practice could read the echoes of recent events in the ghost field, with more emotionally charged events leaving a stronger resonance. Katya had taught Eric that the ghostly reflection of Duskwall held memories of the city across the ages, but he had never heard of anyone seriously trying to peel back all eight hundred and fifty odd years to the disaster that formed it. Even if you managed to channel that much energy without burning yourself out, it would be like sending up a signal flare for every ghost and Spirit Warden in the district.

Jack finally looked at his friend, expression softening some. “You should stay up here, Shitty. It’ll be safer.”

What kind of name is Shitty? Now the other man, Shitty apparently, was the one to cross his arms in obvious frustration, “I made a promise to your mom, man, and Shitty Knight does not back out of his promises.” He unfolded the arm that wasn’t holding the lantern and poked Jack in the arm. ”Besides, if I’m with you, you'll be less likely to go too far and blow yourself up again.”

Jack rolled his eyes and his perpetually cool and focused expression lightened with something approaching levity. “That was one time, Shits.”

“Yeah, well, let’s keep it that way.”

Shitty lifted the messenger bag over his head and set it carefully against the lip that ran around the roof of the building before both men moved to start climbing down the iron trellis that spanned the full three stories of the wall closest to them, lanterns clipped to belts so that both hands were free.

As much as Eric liked to look at the courtyard while he ate, it had always been a bit of a mystery to him. It supported a surprising amount of plant life, with thick grass and flowering vines climbing up the trellis; much more than should be possible in a world without a daytime. Furthermore, at some point builders had bricked over all of the windows and doors leading out to the courtyard so that it was only accessible from the roof. It was like it was meant to be forgotten.

In the center of it stood an ancient well, dry except for when it rained. Eric had examined it closely when he first found this place, and probed it with what power he could muster, but only found old stone and carvings so weathered as to be indistinct.

Both men climbed quickly but with little grace, and while Eric rolled his eyes at the amount of noise they managed to make by clattering on the iron trellis, he wasn’t above using it to cover his movement around the rooftop over to where they had left their belongings.

It was the work of moments to get the bag open and begin rifling through its contents, and Eric didn’t feel even a twinge of hesitation in doing so. He still held onto hope that these men weren’t the ones who had attacked Katya several months ago, and that their presence here was pure chance. Regardless, this Jack had probably seen his face and would be looking for him.

Time to even the score. Inside the bag was a pistol (finely crafted), ammunition, a half-full bag of nuts (the packaging was from one of the luxury lightning rail lines), identification papers and passports for two people (neither was for a Jack), a number of thick reference books on spectrology, and a leather-bound journal.

Eric pulled the journal out and flipped it over. Embossed on the front of a journal was the sigil in the style of a noble house; a falcon soaring over black waves in front of a crescent moon. He knew what the ocean in the sigil meant at least; they were one of the families of leviathan hunters and owned at least one huge steam warship that sailed out onto the void sea to battle the giant demons that dwelled there. He was surprised he did not recognize the sigil, as Duskwall was the port of call for the entire fleet and he had stolen from or spied on most of the noble houses in the city during his time with Katya.

What looked like two lightning rail tickets were stuck between the pages of the journal, and Eric carefully opened the book to take a closer look, only to be stopped cold by what he found on the pages.

The left page was filled with a seemingly random assortment of numbers, but the right page was dominated by a sketch of his mentor, skillfully done in black ink. If there was any doubt as to the likeness of the portrait, it was labeled beneath, simply, “Katya”.

Operating solo the last six months while Katya convalesced in hiding had done much to bolster Eric’s confidence in his own abilities, but as he stared helplessly at his mentor’s stern face he longed for her advice on what to do. He could confront these men; he had the high ground and both pistols, and he would know if they tried to lie to him; another ability, both a blessing and a curse, acquired along with his night vision.

And if they are enemies? Eric was a decent shot if it came to violence, but he was leery of picking any fight, to say nothing of one with an unknown Whisper without the advantage of surprise. Visions of his body, charred black and twisted by blasts of summoned lighting danced before his eyes, and he shook himself to dispel them before he slid the journal into his pouch on his back.

I’ll bring the book to Katya and make her finally explain what’s going on. The time for secrets is over.

Eric was wrenched from his introspection by a blast of cold air and a shout of “Jack!” from the courtyard, and he turned his attention to the scene below.

Jack stood at the center of the courtyard, his back to Eric, with one hand extended over the well. From the way his breath bloomed in a white cloud, it was clear that he had thrust his consciousness deep into the ghost field. A low fog had risen from the ground and swirled in a lazy vortex around the Whisper and the well, stirred by an unnaturally cold, ozone scented wind. Both electroplasmic lanterns were flickering madly, and Shitty stood half crouched over his, with a hand cradled to his chest.

As Eric watched, the man shouted again and tried to approach his friend, only for a crackle of energy to leap from the well, strike him in the chest and send him sprawling back with a string of expletives.

Eric watched in horrified fascination as a stream of glowing, roughly humanoid figures began to file into the courtyard, emerging one by one through the solid stone of one of the bricked over entrances. They glowed with an eerie blue-white iridescence and arrayed themselves in a loose semicircle around the well. Eric reflexively drew his pistol and aimed it at the growing crowd, despite being almost certain that it would be of little use in this situation. Jack seemed blind to these troubling events and deaf to his friend’s increasingly desperate pleas to break off his attempts to attune with the well.

As one, the ghostly figures fell to their knees and prostrated themselves before the well, crying out in voices like the howling wind: “SETARRA!” “THE DEEP!” “SHE RISES!”

The well gurgled and began to overflow with jet black seawater, filling the courtyard with the bitter scent of brine. Whatever horrible thing that was going to happen next was seemingly interrupted when Shitty Knight, who had removed both of his shoes, chucked one of them at his friend’s head. It landed with a solid THWACK and seemed to jolt Jack out of whatever spell he was under. He collapsed to his hands and knees, breathing heavily, and the glowing figures flickered and then vanished.

Eric was only distantly aware of this because he was frozen with formless dread at the overwhelming smell of the sea and the sight of the well overflowing with water. His mind was consumed with the barest flickers of memory; the burn of scraped hands, the icy seawater as it crept up his body, the panic at the bitter taste of it.

He watched with unseeing eyes as a dark figure seemingly made of water rose up from the well; its lower body was a column of water, but its upper body seemed vaguely human and female, covered all over with scales and festooned with seaweed. The nightmare opened shark black eyes and looked straight at Eric, before turning its gaze to Jack and Shitty, who were climbing back up the trellis and unaware of the imminent danger.

They’re going to die! DO SOMETHING. Eric finally mastered his terror and brought his pistol to bear on the sinister apparition and fired, shouting “Look out!” in warning. His aim was true, striking the creature in the head, which exploded in a splash of water before reforming, seemingly unharmed. He glanced at Jack and for a moment they locked eyes. Eric saw a spark of recognition in them before Jack dropped back to the ground and turned to face the horror.

The Whisper gave a gruff shout and threw out his hand, summoning a veritable river of lightning that blasted the creature and much of the courtyard with coruscating energy. It recoiled with a hiss of displeasure and lashed out, quicker than Eric’s eye could follow. One black, clawed limb stretched impossibly across the distance to pin Jack against the wall by his shoulder. Jack grunted as the talons pierced his flesh, and Eric quickly reloaded his pistol, hands only steady because of Katya’s skilled tutelage.

Shitty entered the fray with a shout, pulling a dagger from somewhere and slashing wildly at the protracted limb that held his friend transfixed to the wall. His blows seemed to have little effect, but Eric thought he had the right idea, and carefully lined up a shot at the creature’s elbow. His pistol thundered and the bullet struck true again, severing the arm at the elbow. It splashed as water to the ground and a hand began to reform from the severed stump, but Jack was free, at least for the moment. The crackling of another blast of lighting began to form around Jack’s hands before he screamed in pain and fell to his knees, clutching his head.

The monster seemed to draw itself up as if preparing for another strike, before cocking its head to the side as if listening to something far away. After a long, tense moment its body dissolved back into formless water, which splashed harmlessly to the ground.

Shitty shouted his friend's name again and rushed over to him, pressing his hand to Jack’s wound. Jack collapsed back against the wall and tipped his head back, staring up at Eric with unreadable blue eyes.

Eric held his gaze for a long moment before he pulled back from the edge of the roof and moved his veil into place from where it had fallen in the excitement. In the distance, he could hear the whistles of the Bluecoats, no doubt attracted by the gunfire and blasts of lightning. If these men couldn't avoid the police on their own, there was little Eric could do for them.

He tried to shake off the lingering effects of the panic that had gripped him at the sight of the overflowing well and focus himself on the task at hand; the night was just beginning and he had business of his own to attend to. Eric’s stomach churned with uncertainty; he had temporarily allied himself with these men in the face of supernatural terror, but was it the right choice?

Will it count for anything if they really are after Katya? As he set out across the rooftops, he did his best to avoid dwelling on blue eyes and a handsome face.

On Point With: Frankie Sharp

One of NYC’s few truly great and original nightlife event producers, this giant got his start at a small dive bar in San Francisco before making it big here with the notorious Westgay at Westway. He’s still giving us massive weekly kikis featuring the best of the scene and way beyond, but lately he’s been offering some more intimate vehicles as well. Thotyssey rides the cutting edge with Frankie Sharp!

Thotyssey: Hello there Frankie, thanks for finding a minute out of your super busy schedule to chat with us! How are you doing?

Frankie Sharp: I’m great! Super high from last night's MARY, my weekly cabaret at Club Cumming. It was a great show. But today, back at the grind. How are you?

I'm hanging in there, and riding these weird weather fluctuations! You're a San Francisco native... I think that city has the best weather.

SF has the best weather probably one month of out the year, September, which is their late summer. It’s perfectly sunny and warm, and not too hot. Otherwise, surprisingly pretty grey and nippy. But when its good it’s good. I respond better to the drama of the seasons. I need constant change around me. My blood pressure responds well to that, I think.

That probably translates well to your work as a nightlife event producer, where if you can't consistently change and innovate, then there's no point in being there.

I certainly can’t stand still or in one place for very long. That also probably has to do with me being a military brat, living in a new city every year. Every grade from Kindergarten to ninth grade was a new place for my family to call our temporary home. That also sharpened my skills on how to make new friends very quickly.

Were you always creative / artistic in some way when you were growing up?

Very much so. I had some friends, but usually only at school. I spent most of my time alone. I would write and draw my own comic books about gay superheroes, except I didn't know they were gay at the time. I just knew they were hot men I liked drawing, and powerful female characters whom I suppose were drag queens. I feel like I manifested those characters into my current adulthood. I’m surrounded by powerful creatures and gay superheroes all the time now.

I'm predicting a Frankie Sharp graphic novel in the future! So, I understand it was a dive bar called the Gangway in San Francisco where your nightlife career began?

Yes! I was working answering phones for an advertising / design firm. I hated having to be somewhere at 9am, and at a desk no less. So on my weekends I was eating ecstasy and running around with all the nightlife creatures, going to all these great club events listening to house music.The best house music outside of Chicago is San Francisco house. I was going to parties thrown by magnificent drag queens like Juanita More's Booty Call and Heklina's TrannyShack, fun club nights by Honey Soundsystem. SF nightlife is all performance-based and peacocky, I loved the nightlife there. 

But there was still something missing. When I first went to Gangway, I fell in love. It was a dilapidated dive bar--a half-working jukebox and carpeted walls, but 100% gay clientele over 50. I loved it. I grew up in bars, as my mother was a stripper in the Philippines and that’s how my father met her when he was a sailor stationed there. So for some reason, those kind of bars are very sentimental--almost spiritual--to me. 

So I decided to throw a party there on a shoestring budget--way before I knew what a "guarantee" was, or how to strike a deal. I just wanted to have fun, and be able to afford a pizza slice. I DJ'd from iTunes, and filled the room with 99 cent balloons. It was the best time.

OMG after that graphic novel you need to write a full-on book! 

What motivated you to come out and mix it up in NYC?

I was very into reading PAPER Magazine, The Face and i-D, and NYC was so fully represented in those mags. And then I became obsessed with all things New York. It was during Electroclash era. There were great bands like W.I.T., Fischerspooner, Scissor Sisters, the goddesses AVENUE D (”Do I Look Like A Slut?”) and wonderful performance artists like Sophia Lamar and Amanda Lepore. I I had them all cut out and taped to my wall like some kind of teeny bopper fan. They were all queer, bold, interesting and unapologetic about their message of both fun and consciousness. Talk about manifestation: all those people I mentioned who I was full-tilt-boogie fans of are now all very close friends of mine. 

Not to mention when I first saw Wigstock when I was 16. I knew New York was going to be my home eventually.

I was able to afford my pizza slice and I was having fun outside of work, but then it hit a wall. There’s only so much you can do in San Francisco; albeit a wonderful city, it’s a small town, too. I needed more room to grow. So a one-way ticket to NYC was booked, and I never looked back. I moved Sept 11, 2009. I remember ‘cause the ticket was super cheap to fly on that date.

Eventually you start meeting these people here, and making things happen with the Frankie Sharp brand. MySpace and Facebook were definitely around then, but I'm not sure how much they were being used to market nightlife... is that how you were doing it?

Sorta. Myspace was somewhat used for promoting, but I was still printing out paper flyers then. Passing them out everywhere, legit putting them on cars, etc. I kinda miss that old school aspect. Nowadays, being able to monitor the response gives me a lil’ anxiety. But I have anxiety over everything. I just wanna do a good job and make everyone happy.

I miss those days too! And yeah, having access to all that promotional data can  be information overload. 

The party that most people will always associate you with from your earlier NYC career is WestGay at the Westway! It was such an interesting location for a kiki because it was kind of isolated in its neighborhood, but that just added to the appeal. 

Yeah, exactly. Once you were there you were stuck.

What else was it about WestGay that resonated with people so much, do you think?

We had very, very, very few rules. I mean, dicks and titties were out, celebrities getting laid by gogo boys, the influx of Drag Race was just happening which we heavily included in our programming. Not to mention I had even more NYC idols who became friends perform: Lil Kim, Azealia Banks, Eve, Foxy Brown, Mel B from Spice Girls, Hercules Love Affair... I even had C&C Music Factory perform. They were the first actual CD I owned. 

I mean, it was just everything! And at the time, there was nothing like it. All the other parties were sorta people in black, all kinda looking at each other. Honestly, it was some guilt-free, shameless fun that you didn't have to feel bad about. It was chic, in that it was totally not at all. It was completely hedonistic. Over indulging was the theme.

In the event production world,  rules suck. Is that like one of the hardest aspects of planning a memorable event where guests can feel like they can really let loose... dealing with restrictions from the management, and the limitations of the venue?

Yeah it was one of the reasons Public Arts sucked so hard. A great venue to look at and on paper. But horrible behind the scenes.

You’re talking about a party you were heading this past summer for a brief but memorable run, Something Special. Who or what wasn’t working for you there?

A lot of venues want gay dollars, but they don’t want gay people. And it wasn’t Matt and Carlos (who also owned Westway), they were great. It was their partner, The Public Hotel. They were corporate assholes, and made life very difficult for me. The didn’t respect what we were doing, and took months to pay. They could’ve really ruined my reputation, because it took forever for me to pay my staff sometimes. And these are hard-working artists. 

But oddly, it was still a successful night and very well-attended. And it served me in other ways. At least it got the attention of the Moxy Hotel, who is a part of the Tao Group and the home for my new Sunday night MAGIC. They are incredibly supportive, saw what were up to and signed off on our buffoonery (because our buffoonery is also lucrative).

But it was very stressful [at the Public Hotel]. Not sure why anyone would continue doing things there, especially gay folks.

Ironically, you got a GLAM nomination this past year for Something Special, and the GLAMs were held in the Public Hotel!

I introduced [GLAMs producer] Cherry Jubilee to that space at the tail end of my time with Public. I was trying to do them a favor. The GLAMs had some very familiar technical fuck-ups throughout the night that were the venue’s fault. It actually gave me PTSD. But the GLAMs themselves were just that... GLAM!

I love what Cherry Jubilee does, what a great producer. I just hope one year it becomes more inclusive to all aspects and pockets of the city and surrounding boroughs. Because right now, it really is just a popularity contest for clubs above 14th street. Westgay won best party every year for four years. For that I am so grateful. But it seems things have changed. 

But maybe its not the awards--perhaps its the parties that have become more segregated. At least in the small time MAGIC has been running, it feels like a good bridge between uptown and downtown, Manhattan, Brooklyn and Queens. 

What are the seeds that need to be planted for an event to be Frankie Sharp-level great? And then, how do you know when it’s time to switch things up with something that’s already going strong?

In the beginning stages, I have a tight group of people I work with, and have for years since Westgay: DJs, performers, hosts and sub-promoters. Then with each new event, I hire a second string, usually of younger up-and-comers. 

But before everything else, it’s location location location... venue venue venue. Does the room have heart? Can you do Runway? Can you zigzag and find something new all night? Will Amanda Lepore look good in this lighting? Does the sound hit the bottom of my spine? There are many questions that need to be addressed. But it’s always an ongoing transformation. I’m never, ever satisfied. I’m always tuning something.

Always seeking that elusive perfection! Speaking earlier of Brooklyn, your Saturday party Metrosensual at Metropolitan Bar has been running strong for a while now, with top notch guest performers ever week. Metrosensual has definitely helped put Brooklyn nightlife on the map, as far as star power and general epicness. 

I LOOOVE METROPOLITAN. Those boys there who run the show are probably the most professional, supportive and friendliest out of every venue I’ve ever worked with. I always tell Steven Mac, who is the GM there, if I ever open my own club, he’s going to run it.

Do you have a favorite Metrosensual moment from parties past?

Bringing Brooke Candy and a her full band--people lost their minds. I loved bringing Latrice Royale there, because the crowd is just drunk and wanting to have a good time, and extend love to the performers and the performers only want to give the same in return. Valentina, of course, was a big night. What a pro, and in person looks not real-- like an Almodovar goddess. Frankly, every week rules. Its pretension-free, which is so refreshing and important to me. I think of Metrosensual as my Marc by Marc version of my bigger nightclubs. It’s really my favorite.

Dragula’s Biqtch Puddin will be there this Saturday! 

Her manager reached out to me about having her perform, and when I mentioned it to some kids they were like PLEASE have her. I think people are super excited to see her. I know I am.

MARY at Club Cumming is a weekly cabaret variety show that you produce, and it's a much more low key but still eclectic affair, in a very intimate setting. Ragamuffin and Tyler Ashley are among the performers who appear each week, and you frequently sing on the stage yourself as well! What prompted you to create this very different sort of production?

Our administration, and my sobriety. When Club Cumming was Eastermbloc, I was doing Friday nights there... a party called Dumb Club. It was house, hip hop, party jams, a short drag show, gogo boys, debauchery, classic East Village. When it was bought by Daniel Nardicio and Alan Cumming, they approached me about doing something there still. 

But I needed to give something more soulful, something more fulfilling and intimate. I needed to engage with the people who have been coming to my clubs. So I thought this was the perfect opportunity to do just that--while being radically queer, irreverent, political and warm, inviting, inspiring and honest. It’s all the club hosts, gogo boys and DJ’s I have at my club nights, who have all of these additional talents that have been laying dormant finally get to see the light of day.

There were enough unhinged, boozy, headless dance nights. I wanted to build an environment full or art and love. Music and Song. It’s been life-changing thus far. And my new sobriety needed a new project. I couldn’t have asked for a better sponsor.

Congratulations on your sobriety. There's a growing number of sober people in nightlife who keep at it, but it never ceases to amaze me with all the world’s vices at arm’s reach. Is it still a daily struggle? It was never a struggle. I’m not one who wakes up in the morning and wants booze or drugs, or is like "what a stressful day, I need a drink.” I would drink heavily at work because work was in bars and clubs, and I would work 3-4 nights a week and then I would recover from that 2-3 nights a week. That’s your whole week.

And I wouldn't be able to grasp reality. It really screwed with my emotional and mental state. I was unable to be productive, and that’s what I am: a producer. What is a producer who can’t produce? When I was doing WestGay, I was in a blackout pretty much for four years... and it was very successful. That was me at a C- grade level. I wanna see what I can do at a conscious, strong A+.

Being sober has changed my life rapidly, and I keep becoming brighter, lighter, stronger. And I feel love more than I ever have. I describe it often as getting as close to the divine as I’ve ever felt. Close to God. I know that’s heavy. But I feel very connected to the universe and our planet these days. The high that drugs and whiskey used to give me I get from hard work, building communities and hitting a high note at MARY. Cheesy, but true.

What an amazing place to be at! That brings us to MAGIC at Magic Hour, which I guess is only a month or two running now and already a tremendous success. Did everything just kinda “magically” fall into place here?

Honestly, yes. They called me. I called up my business partner in crime, Birdy Black, and we did a walk-through. When we realized the topiary of the bushes were teddy bears fucking, I knew this was our new home.

One thing I realize is, I’m huge on energy. Every event I’ve ever done is an exact representation of where I am in my life. WestGay was LOUD, ruthless and intoxicating because I was loud, ruthless and intoxicated. Something Special was just that: special and confused and erratic, because circumstances were just that. MAGIC is everything I’ve learned and manifested and called upon for everyone else. It has nothing to do with me. It’s not about my ego or money; it’s about giving a gift to New York City, the love of my life. It’s truth, acceptance, art and cuckoory harnessed.

There's always a great cast of hosts and performers there, and you've really done wonders bringing actual huge stars to appear or perform there. Damn, Charlie XCX is gonna be there this Sunday, that's amazing! How is this even happening?

I saw she was in town performing, and her show sold out in 60 seconds, or something absurd. I saw everyone on social media freaking out about not snagging tickets. So in my usual fashion, I wanted to find a way to give something to the kids and create something special for everyone. I reached out to a mutual friend and asked if she had an afterparty planned. She did not... so I made some phone calls.

She’ll be performing with a huge roster of other stars we’re not announcing just yet. But it’s going to be insane. It’s taking everything for me not to mention who they are! but everyone is going to gag with everyone on board. Which then inspired me to do a big performer once a month, moving forward. We have lots planned!

Lindsay Lohan hosted a Brian Rafferty party this past MLK Weekend.

I love Brian Rafferty. We were just texting the other day because he found some old tally list from his Griffin party, which I hosted once. I brought 25 people! It was my first NYC hosting gig. Hes a good egg.

Is queer nightlife now officially a vessel for major artists and celebrities to reach out directly to their fans?

I can’t speak on that. But personally, I’ve always tried to have bigger names perform or DJ at my events. It’s New York! I love the idea of having Andy Cohen DJing my small bar parties, or Azealia Banks at her career height performing the closing of WestGay so people can be really close to them. I love the surrealism of that.  I think, like me, those celebrities just wanna give something back.  

And everyone wants to be a part of New York Nightlife. It’s Legend.

Do you have anything else in the works, as far as events or other projects?

Jazz singer and musician David Raleigh and I are starting a monthly, social media free eleganza of a dinner party called IRL (In Real Life). I’ve been planning it for a couple of years now, but life kept happening. I have a gorgeous space in the East Village for it now. People will check their phones at the door, a small orchestra provides the evenings soundtrack plays, Stacy Layne Matthews will cater it for the first one, and we all just actually get to exchange with one another. All this exciting bumper cars we do in the club is wonderful, but I wanna know more about the people around me. We can still have club looks and glamour, but Its a classic dinner party where people TALK. 

Every month starting in August, we will always have a spotlight on a superstar chef, a bold-named performer from everything from Broadway, opera to hip hop, and a speaker doing an inspirational "TedTalk.” We already have very recognizable names scheduled to perform, and inspirational speakers we just love to hear preach their path of success: authors, filmmakers, writers, politicos... etc. 

So classy! That should certainly break some ground as far a nightlife experience goes.

Also, I’ve been working on a scripted TV show for what seems like years now. It’s gone through so many incarnations and different producers and networks interested, but we have a new avenue for it now, and that’s exciting. And pretty soon, my full attention might have to go there. We’ll see!

Right now, everything I’ve ever wanted is happening. And I know that sounds like I’m gloating, but I wanted to honor my sobriety once again--and not in a preachy way, but in a conscious way. With a clear head, strong muscles and sharpened tools, anything you want... you can just take. It’s a magnificent discovery to uncover.

A true inspiration! Okay, to wrap it up: what's the best piece of advice you can give to a newbie who wants to start producing nightlife events in NYC?

Stay out of my way. Just kidding! Be nice to everyone. You never know who anyone is. Plus, just be a kind human person. Life is better that way. Know your worth, but leave your ego out of it. 

Do not poach talent. 

Respect other promoters’ venues. 

And always find a balance of night with day. Vitamin D is needed, so is water and exercise. Feeling powerful from the inside out will get you far.

Thank you, Frankie!

Frankie Sharp produces MARY at Club Cumming (Tuesdays, 9pm), Metrosensual at Metropolitan Bar (Saturdays, 10pm) and MAGIC at Magic Hour Bar & Lounge (Sundays, 10pm). Check Thotyssey’s calendar for a full schedule of his events and appearances, and follow Frankie on Facebook and Instagram.

See Also: Frankie Sharp (11.30.2018)

On Point Archives

Do 1-102 😎😎😎 also you're a super cool human being just thought I'd let you know

OMG! Thank you anon!!💙💙💙

1.) what’s a song you depict with your childhood?• Come on Eileen by Dexy Midnight Runners. My aunt played a lot of 80s music for me when I was a kid, and she would sit down and show me music videos from when she was teenager.
2.) did you have a memorable childhood pet? • Yes! Two beagles. Donkey (the name kills me) and Loki. They were brothers.
3.) have you ever been drunk?• Yes, many times. My tolerance is top notch now tho 
4.) have you ever tried drugs?• No actually. 
5.) have you ever completely regretted what you’ve said?• Yes almost everyday.
6.) have you ever made someone cry?• I don’t know if I have actually. 
7.) has someone ever made you cry?• Oh my goodness yes.
8.) have you ever been in love? if so, describe the moment you knew it. • Yes, sadly. Well we were on a sofa in my basement, I was cuddled up in his arms, and we had a Beatles album playing on my record player. The song was And I Love Her, and I honestly can’t remember exactly what he said (funny how things change because I said I would never forget) but it was something along the lines of “haha man this song is how I feel.” Which I kinda ignored cause I figured he didn’t mean that but he said he loved me, I looked at him and said “do you mean that?” And he said “if what I feel for you when I’m with you isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.” And it was that moment where I kinda hit me that I loved that boy all along. Now I hate his guts, again funny how things change. 
9.) which came first the chicken or the egg?• Ted Allen. 
10.) are you part of the lgbtq+ community? do you support them?• Yes! People should be allowed to marry and love who they want regardless of your personal belief! Plus I’m bisexual. 😎
11.) how many siblings do you have?• One older sister and I hate her. 😊
12.) have you ever been in love with someone you couldn’t love?• Yes? Maybe? Idk. 
13.) are you a good cook?•Yes I’ve been cooking since I was 6. 
14.) what is your favorite tv show?• Always Sunny in Philadelphia. I’m trying to find another show though. Always accepting recommendations 👀
15.) what is the last movie you cried during?• Dead Poet’s Society 
16.) what are songs you’ve cried to when you first heard them? (if any)• School Days by The Kinks, Captain Jack by Billy Joel, and High Enough by Damn Yankees cause I’m a fucking dork who heard it after I got my heart broke. 
17.) do you have a middle name?• Elizabeth. Don’t forget the Z, they always forget the z. 
18.) have you been out of your country?• Nope.
19.) are you a chocolate fan or not?• Yes I love dark chocolate and any vegan chocolate. 
20.) how many people have you kissed?• one. 
21.) what is your favorite album?• America’s Least Wanted by Ugly Kid Joe probably. 
22.) what is your dream car?• I always feel so judged when I say what cars I want around my friends, because I know a lot of car enthusiasts. All honesty though I want either an old Chevy camper van because shagwagon amiright, or a hearse like in the Warriors 😂
23.) what is your lucky/favorite number?• 25 or 8
24.) what is your favorite flower?• Roses!!!
25.) books or movies, why?• I love both but I’ll pick movies because I have trouble getting my mind to focus when I read, I’m trying to help myself with that though. 
26.) have you ever been on a blind date?• Nope. 
27.) has one of your friends ever backstabbed you?• Yes. 
28.) have you ever backstabbed one of your friends?• Ugh yes. Never again. 
29.) what thing do you symbolize love with?• Death. Eventually its gotta end one way or another. 
30.) do you have neat handwriting? • Nooooo but my cursive is pretty. Not many people know how to read it so I don’t get to use it much 😢
31.) do you have a friend with benefits?• Nope. 
32.) do you want a friend with benefits?• Eh. Depends on the person. 
33.) if you could be anything in the world, what would you be?• Someone who actually makes a decent living lol 
34.) have you ever been blackout drunk?
• No actually. 35.) have you ever met someone famous?• Nope. 
36.) how many concerts have you been to?• 1, technically 2
37.) which concerts have you been to?• White Reaper. I’ve been to local punk stuff downtown if you want to count that. 
38.) do you have a hidden talent?• Not really. None that I know of. 
39.) what do you do when you’re stressed?• usually lay on my floor and wait for panic attacks to stop and listen to music. 
40.) do you think money can buy love?• well 🎶I don’t care too much for money cause money can’t buy me love 🎵
41.) how old would you date?Well right now the oldest I’ll date is 20 because I’m 17. But when I turn 18 probably date anyone within 10 years of my age, I guess it depends on who it is. 
42.) have you ever done something illegal?• No. i am a perfect innocent little child 😏(lol I’m so full of shit)
43.) what is your biggest fear?• big bodies of water and never escaping my family. 
44.) what is an unusual fear you have?• big bodies of water lol
45.) can you drive?• mhm! 
46.) do you believe in supernatural creatures?• yes!
47.) do you believe in karma?• sometimes????
48.) what is one quality you need in your partner?• sense of humor. 
49.) do looks matter?• eh it’s hard to say because only do you know what you think is “ugly” and what’s “beautiful.” Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. 
50.) does size matter?• 👀
51.) who is the last person you forgave?• Gabe
52.) what is your favorite ice cream flavor?• Superman, mint chocolate chip, or cookies and cream. But I haven’t found any good vegan substitutes for them 😢
53.) what languages can you speak besides english? • none. 
54.) ever been on a plane?• Yup! 
55.) ever been on a boat? • Yup!
56.) is there anyone you’ve lost touch with that you wish you hadn’t? • of course. 
57.) are there any friendships you regret?• YES. 
58.) are there any friendships you wish you could make?• Yesssssssss 
59.) have you ever stayed awake for 24 (+) hours?• Yup…
60.) have you ever walked outside after 12 am?• Yup!!!
61.) have you ever seen a sunrise completely through?• Yes I have. I get sorta sick a lot (hard to explain) and some nights I only sleep 2 hours so I’ve seen a lot of sunrises. 
62.) are you scared of rollercoasters? • depends on the rollercoaster 
63.) on a scale of 1-10 how stressed are you usually?• 9.5 
64.) do you have any plans this weekend?• Sitting in my room working on an art project and hopefully playing guitar and finishing up homework
65.) do you miss anyone right now?• Yes. 
66.) who do you wish you were talking to right now?• Lots of people.
67.) if you could have any superpower, what would it be?• Invisibility or mind reading. 
68.) who is your favorite superhero?• Quicksilver, Spider-Man, or Deadpool. Comics are kewl. 
69.) are you dirty minded?• Lol yes. I’m an immature asshole. 
70.) what is your favorite song from every decade starting at that 80’s?• 80s - Pretty in Pink by Psychedelic Furs • 90s- Santeria by Sublime or Ironic by Alanis Morissette • 00s - Blue Orchid by The White Stripes 
• 10s - I mean the decade isn’t over yet but digging Judy French by White Reaper a lot. 😎71.) how many kids, if any, do you want?• AGHHHH uhhhh people are gonna freak when I say 3 or 5 but yup. I want a lot. I guess I just wanna have a big happy family for once. 
72.) who is your biggest OTP?• Anastasia and Dimitri
73.) what is your favorite food?• Guacamole 
74.) do you want to be married one day?• Yes. 
75.) dogs or cats?• Both. 
76.) do you drink enough water daily?• 100 oz every damn day baby
77.) have you ever seen a shooting star?• yes only once. 
78.) if you had the opportunity to go to the moon, would you?• I would but not alone. 
79.) how many best friends do you have?• idk really. 
80.) when was the last time you cried?
• few minutes ago lol 81.) have you ever laughed so hard you peed yourself?•no actually. 
82.) have you ever made anyone laugh so hard they peed?• yes. 
83.) if you could travel any where in the world, where would you go?• Europe. 
84.) what are 3 words you would use to describe yourself?• Total Fuck Up. 
85.) do you consider yourself a loyal person?• yes. I usually don’t leave unless you’re a shitty person to me or someone else. 
86.) what is your favorite season and why?• Fall and Winter cause sweaters, hot food, warm drinks, cuddles 
87.) have you ever told anyone you loved them, and didn’t mean it?• Yes but not in a romantic sense. I say it to my family all the time. 
88.) do you know how to play any instruments?• yes! Guitar. 
89.) do you like falling asleep to music or not?• Depends on the night I’m having, but usually yes. 
90.) what are you allergic to?• Cats, I have seasonal allergies, and rabbits
91.) have you ever wanted to be someone else for a day just so you could see what there life is like?• Yes. 
92.) if you could be any character from your favorite tv show would you, and if so, who would you be?• Probably Charlie from Always Sunny because it just seems like an adventure. Lol
93.) if you could be best friends with any celebrity who would it be and why?• Nick Cave because we both have similar artistic visions and mind sets. 
94.) are you outgoing?• sometimes! 
95.) have you ever wanted to kiss someone, but weren’t brave enough to?• Ugh yes. 
96.) are you a good flirt?• I’ve been told I am by many, but I don’t think so. 
97.) have you ever been turned down, or have you ever turned anyone down?• Yes to both. 
98.) which planet is your favorite?
• Neptune or Saturn. 99.) are you superstitious?• Yes. 
100.) are you a good listener? • I like to think so! I don’t always have good advice but I try my best to be there and help. 
101.) are you a good kisser• I’ve been told I “make it difficult to walk after"👀 I honestly don’t know if that’s good or not. So yes???? I guess???? I can’t really kiss myself. 
102.) would you kiss any of your friends?• Sure. Almost kissed a few actually, and I always tell them when I almost do and why I almost did because I feel the need to lol.

ZAP! POW! Comic High: School’s Out -2

( Bethany Bat )

“I couldn’t find anything” said Donnie Silver as she crossed her arms over her chest while giving Jean a blank face. Donnie was the descendant to the one and only Quick Silver and had a very bold character. From one glance at Donnie, you could tell just what type of a person she was. For one she was tall and thin with the most daring blue eyes. Her short pink bob cut always had strands of her hair were always tucked behind her small ears. Her original hair color was a dirty blonde but she decided pink was more her color. She had a small circular face and a pointy nose and thick red lips.

 Behind Donnie, the Flash triplets came zooming behind, making a fuss as they all wanted to be the first to give their search findings to Jean.  The Flash triplets all looked alike, being the descendant of the Flash. They all had curly ginger hair and dull brown eyes. And ironically enough, all their names began with the letter ‘M’. Making them Mallory, Max and Myron.

 That morning Jean had sent the four to scout all around camp grounds in hopes that one of the four would find Aurora’s anklet that was desperately needed, so as to avoid any further problems. Jean was already discouraged when Donnie came zooming in telling her that she had found no traces of Aurora’s anklet. She still had hope somewhat, that one of the three Flash triplets would have found the anklet so no drastic measures had to be taken. But just to be on the safe side, Miss Honey had also sent the water based descendants to scout Lake Krypton, in thoughts that maybe someone didn’t know what to do with the anklet so they threw it into the lake.

 “Um, well Mallory what did you find?” Jean asked, as she put her thumbnail to her teeth as she began chewing on it nervously as she waited for Mallory’s response. Mallory gave Jean a small shrug while she flashed a weak smile.

 “Well sadly, I got nothin’ Miss G” she answered, as she put her arms down and put them behind her back. Jean let out a deep sigh as she gestured to Max who was standing besides his sister. Max gave also gave Jean a weak smile as he nodded his head ‘no’ not wanting further discussion, and only since he was the quieter triplet. A frustrated Jean did her best to keep a calm face in front of the group of teens as she cocked her head in Myron’s direction.

 Myron gave Jean a huge toothy grin before speaking up. A smirk found its way onto Donnie’s face as she thought to herself, ‘this is gonna be good.’ Even Max and Mallory knew very well in the back of their minds that Myron was probably going to say something ridiculous.

 “I found something” Myron announced, causing Donnie, Max and Mallory’s mouths to drop as they found it hard to believe that the Myron Flash that they all knew actually found Aurora’s anklet. As of Jean, excitement flashed over her face. “Well give it to me Myron, and you’ll come and get your reward later on” said Jean as Myron shoved his right hand into the pocket of his cargo shorts.

 “Here ma’am” he said, as he held up a shiny blue gemstone. Donnie couldn’t help but let out a snort, as Max and Mallory shook their heads in disappointment. Jean let out a deep sigh of frustration as she took the blue gemstone from the palm of Myron’s hand. “It’s pretty Myron, but it’s not what we’re looking for” said Jean, giving Myron a lousy smile. She observed it for a slight minute before she looked head on at the four who were in front of her, “Okay guys, thanks for the cooperation, you are all free to go” she announced, as the four began dispersing in different directions.

 Across camp grounds, Jenny Joker had managed to draw a small crowd as she dropped the juiciest gossip. It was known that Jenny always had all the details since she was quite flexible and preferred hanging from ceilings most of the time she also used it as a good opportunity to eavesdrop on conversations that nobody else could hear.

 “I’m telling y’all Aurora can make us all psycho if they don’t find her little anklet” said Jenny dramatically, adding a cackling laugh at the end which earned some gasps from her small crowd. Luanne America rolled her eyes as she gave her dark blue hair a toss, “Oh stop the drama Jen, everybody knows that only Aurora’s aunt could do that” she said a matter of factly. Luanne was the descendant of Captain America and was a member of Stephanie’s posse. She didn’t resemble her great uncle who was Captain America himself. She actually looked like her late mother, having the same dark blue curly hair, dark brown eyes, a small button nose and full pale pink lips.

 Jenny tilted her head in Luanne’s direction, her green ponytails following her every movement, a smirk plastered on her face as Luanne kept her eyes focused on Jenny. “Oh, and if that’s what you’ve been thinkin’ then you’re in for a real surprise hun” said Jenny, barely even above a whisper. Luanne rolled her eyes as she got up from the gossip session making her way to the camp woods, leaving Jenny behind who was still dropping more gossip.

 Jenny’s words kept replaying in her mind as she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her skirt. It bothered her to think that maybe Aurora had the abilities of her late Aunt Ace. Luanne was a major book worm and had all of her Super history covered, and knew everything about everyone. She always knew that what made Aurora so powerful was her short temper, but it never occurred to her that she was that powerful.  But in a way it sort of made sense to her since it would only explain why after all those years Aurora always wore an anklet.

 Luanne snapped out of her train of thought as soon as she saw one of her best friends, Stephanie, standing on a rock as she blabbed on about something. She couldn’t quite hear Stephanie since she was still pretty far from her, she decided to jog a bit so she could catch up and listen to whatever her friend was talking about. She froze a bit after realizing that Stephanie wasn’t looking for a phone signal or practicing some cheers, she was talking to a group of people.

 From below the rock on which Stephanie stood on, there was Pete Panther, her twin brother Stanley, Henry Hulk, Mauricia, and Amber all listening attentively to whatever she had to say. Luanne wondered why Stephanie and Mauricia didn’t invite her to this small meeting they were having, when they had been doing everything together practically their whole lives. Instantly, she thought it had to do with Aurora’s anklet since it was the hot topic. And knowing Stephanie, she would do anything to prove to her father that she was just as hero material as her twin brother. And what better way to do that than find Aurora’s anklet? Luanne decided not to interrupt their little huddle as she stood from a distance listening in.

  “But sis, how are we gonna get out without anyone realizing we’re gone?” Stanley asked, causing the rest to begin murmuring. Stephanie gave her long blonde hair a toss to the side as she continued flashing a smile to the others, “Chill out Stan, Miss Grey and Miss Honey are so focused on finding the anklet on camp grounds that they wouldn’t even think of looking off camp grounds let alone out of Comic City” she said a matter of factly, as she crossed her arms over her chest. From afar, Luanne kept as still as she could as she continued listening in on the small meeting held by Stephanie.

 Amber raised her short hand and Stephanie nodded as if to prompt her on to go ahead and speak. “But where exactly are we going to find this alleged anklet again?” she asked in her tiny voice.

 A smirk came across Stephanie’s face as she put her hand to her hip, “Oh, we’re going back to where she came from, we’re going to Georgia baby” she said confidently, causing Luanne to let out an audible gasp. “Who’s there?” called out Pete as he began looking in different directions, making Luanne’s heart beat a little faster.  

 “For our safety, this meeting it toats over, we meet at camp entrance exactly during camp fire time” Said Stephanie, as they began to disperse. Leaving a breathless Luanne in hiding as she tried to figure out why her two best friends would go through all that trouble and actually break the rules.

 ‘I have to find out more’ Luanne thought to herself as she jogged back to the main camp grounds. After a short while she found herself at the arts and crafts station where Erika sat alone as she drew on a plain piece of paper. It didn’t make sense to her why Erika didn’t team up with Stephanie and the others to go and save her best friend. After all, Erika and Aurora were basically another version of Amber and Bethany.  

 Finally, Luanne found herself at the archery station as she watched Erika as well as several other people aim at target after target. Despite the fact that Luanne was technically supposed to be the grand daughter of a ‘super soldier’ who feared nothing, bow and arrows sort of weren’t her thing since back in middle school when Huck Hawk  decided to use the star on her shield as a ‘bulls eye.’

 ‘Speaking of the devil,’ she thought as soon as she spotted Huck at the archery station who luckily didn’t spot her as she made her way closer. “Hey you” said Luanne as cheerful as she could, giving Erika a friendly smile. Erika turned to ace Luanne, a blank expression on her face.

 For someone as smart as Luanne it was easy for her to see that Erika was sad that her friend was in danger but was too proud to show her real emotions to the other students.

 “Hi” Erika answered blankly, putting her bow down, staring straight ahead at Luanne. Determined to get answers, Luanne kept a smile on her face, “How have you been? I mean since the whole-“she began unable to finish her sentence since Erika cut her off.

 “Ok, I’m just fine, now can you please go gossip with your friend or something? I’m really not in the mood” Erika snapped, causing Luanne’s right eye to twitch a bit. She didn’t mean to come off as rude or offensive, but she really needed Erika’s say on what Stephanie and the others were planning to do that night. And sadly, Erika felt as if Luanne was trying to have pity on her, which was the last thing she wanted.  

 Luanne stood still for a moment as she watched Erika continue with her archery game. After a solid three minutes, she grabbed Erika’s shoulder and forced her to face her. “Listen, this is much more important than you think it is, hear me out” Luanne said sternly, not releasing her grip.

 A wide- eyed Erika dropped her bow and arrow as a response to Luanne’s firm grip. “What could be so important, Miss America?” Erika hissed, her glossy eyes staring straight back at Luanne. “I know it sounds crazy, but the super twins are planning this huge rescue and tonight, during the camp fire time, they’re sneaking out” Luanne answered quietly, which caused Erika’s eyes to widen.

 Erika pressed the purple gem on her bracelet before speaking into it, “Yeah, All X rejects are to assemble tonight” she said, then putting her arm down and staring directly into Luanne’s eyes, “So, Are you in?” she prompted not taking her eyes off of her.

 A small smirk found its way onto Luanne’s face, “Yes” she answered firmly, and with that, they fist bumped. And so it was final, that night Luanne was to join the All X rejects and find out what was going on once and for all.

~~

Sorry for the delay guys! I hope this was good enough! Keep reading,

xx

Kween Kandace