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swan-of-sunrise · 1 year

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The Halcyon Hypothesis

Summary: A chance meeting on the New York subway between a stressed-out graduate student and a brilliant but dorky scientist takes a surprising turn in both of their lives.

Pairing: Bruce Banner X Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Here’s another little one-shot I found hiding on an old flash drive! It’s officially dedicated to all you guys who’ve been struggling with finals and to all the other Bruce Banner fans out there lol thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

The Halcyon Hypothesis (Fanfiction Masterlist)

“Dammit!” (Y/N) swore under her breath as she edged her way into the extremely cramped train and tried not to lose grip on the large stack of notes in her arms. People funneled into the train behind her and in no time, she was crammed tightly into the train as the doors closed; if Professor Taylors hadn’t kept us after class, I’d be on an almost-deserted train right now with my own personal space, she thought with annoyance as the train began to move, but at least I can still cram a little studying in.

She planted her feet so the motions of the train wouldn’t cause her to lose balance and opened her notebook to her most recent notes. Sweat-covered passengers shifted around her as more and more people boarded at the next several stops, but she did her best to ignore them as she struggled to understand everything she’d hastily jotted down earlier. Burnout was hitting her hard as the fall semester drew to a close and her roommates were in the midst of a fight of epic proportions, so the only think keeping her going was the six cups of coffee she’d already had and the promise of another when she arrived back home. All of a sudden, the train slammed on its brakes harder than usual; most of the other passengers were holding onto hand straps but since (Y/N) wasn’t, the train’s jarring movement sent her stumbling into the man standing next to her. “Shit, sorry about that.”

“That’s okay. There’s an extra hand strap over here if you wanna use it.”

(Y/N) glanced up from her notes and momentarily forgot to speak when she caught sight of the man’s kindly smile and strangely-captivating eyes. “I’m fine, I’ve gotta hold my notes.”

The man nodded in understanding and she returned her focus to the scribbles on her page of notes. A few moments later, though, the man spoke again. “You mixed up a couple of your definitions.”

“Excuse me?”

He looked a little startled by her annoyed reply, but nevertheless he continued. “The, um, the definitions for adenosine triphosphate and adenylate cyclase at the top of your page should be swapped.”

Still slightly irritated that her studying was interrupted again, (Y/N) looked at the definitions he spoke of and to her surprise, the man was correct. “Well, I’ll be damned. Are you a biology expert or something?”

“You could say that. I, ah, actually have one of my PhD’s in it,” The man replied. Instead of acting smug about his apparent multiple doctorates, he seemed a little embarrassed to have mentioned them at all; he rubbed his neck awkwardly with his free hand and looked at everything in the train car but her as his ears flushed a vivid shade of pink.

His shyness is kinda cute, (Y/N) thought with a growing smile, her earlier annoyance long-gone. “That’s cool! I’m working on my master’s in biology right now and I can’t even imagine working on a doctorate; I’ve never been more stressed in my life. So stressed, apparently, that I can’t tell the difference between a nucleotide and an enzyme! It’s just that my professors won’t ease up on the workload and things are a little tense with my roommates so I don’t get much studying in at home, and-” She stopped her rambling and cringed internally; why the hell was she unloading all this onto a stranger on a train? “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on a rant there. Stress, you know…”

“That’s okay, stress can make people do a lot of weird things.” The man’s eyes were unfocused, as if he was thinking about something else, but the strange look disappeared after a moment and was replaced with a bashful grin. “…If you want, I could look over your notes to make sure everything’s correct? Not that it’s not correct, of course! I’m sure it’s great, but, you know, just to be on the safe side…?”

“Um…sure, I guess. Thanks!” (Y/N) handed him her notebook and pencil and watched as he began flipping through the pages, scanning the information and used the pencil to make corrections when necessary. The train clinked and clanked along as he remained concentrated on his work, and (Y/N) took the opportunity to examine him a little. His dark curly hair was streaked with a few strands of grey, even though he appeared to be on the younger side. I’d probably have grey hair too if I had more than one doctorate, she thought with an inward chuckle before resuming her observations. He wore wire-framed glasses that had a tendency to slide down his nose, and she could clearly see the smile lines that surrounded his vivid green eyes. Just as she was debating whether or not she should try to give him her number or just simply ask for the handsome stranger’s name, he closed her notebook and looked up at her.

“Well, there were a couple of mistakes with some formulas but other than that, everything looks great! Not bad for a person who says they don’t know the difference between a nucleotide and an enzyme.” His teasing words and flirtatious smile caused her stomach to flutter.

“Thank you,” She took her notebook back and clutched it to her chest. “Now I’ve just gotta study all this and try to pass my final on Friday.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine; your notes are very thorough and well-written, so you shouldn’t have any problem.”

“Easy for you to say, dude, you’ve probably got half-a-dozen PhD’s under your belt.” Her eyebrows rose when he gave her a sheepish look. “You’ve got more than that?”

The man shrugged as he shuffled his feet in embarrassment. “I’m not really the type to brag.” A silence fell over them for several moments until he spoke up again, his timid green eyes fixated on hers. “I, um, I just wanted to say that I think it’s wonderful you’re involved in the sciences…as a woman, I mean, because women haven’t always been encouraged into pursuing STEM careers but times are finally changing and I…well, I-I think it’s admirable.” He rubbed his neck awkwardly and he gave her a half smile that made her heart skip a beat. “You know, it’s like what Nichelle Nichols used to say: ‘Science is not a boy’s game, it’s not a girl’s game. It’s everyone’s game. It’s about where we are…’”

“‘…and where we’re going.’” (Y/N) smiled bashfully at the impressed look he was giving her and fiddled with the metal spiral holding her notebook together. “Lieutenant Uhura was my favorite Star Trek character when I was a kid. That’s sweet of you to say, Doctor…?”

“Bruce. My name’s Bruce.”

She shook his outstretched hand. “(Y/N).” Their eyes met and her breath hitched as she took in the intensity of his gaze, barely aware that their hands were still touching and that she could smell his intoxicating cedar cologne. The intensity of her courses that semester meant that she hadn’t had much time for romance but judging by the way she felt herself react to Bruce in the brief amount of time she’d known him, she could easily imagine herself charging headfirst back into the world of dating alongside the handsome scientist standing so close to her.

“Now approaching Grand Central Station!”

“This is me,” Bruce looked almost disappointed at the announcement but then his green eyes suddenly lit up; he scrambled to pull his wallet out and finally pulled out a business card as the train stopped and the doors opened. “Here’s my number, let me know how your test goes! It was really nice talking to you, (Y/N)!” With a small wave, he pushed through the packed train and out of sight.

“Bye Bruce,” (Y/N) mumbled dejectedly; she’d finally met a nice guy but he was gone as quickly as he came. But at least I have his number, she thought with a growing grin, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long while. She looked down at the business card in her hand and nearly dropped it in surprise, for printed neatly on the card was the name Dr. Bruce Banner. “Holy shit! I had an Avenger look over my biology notes?!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, let me get this straight: you met a beautiful woman on the subway the other day, bonded over your shared nerdy love of science and Star Trek, and even stared into each other’s eyes for a little bit like they do in those cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies…yet you didn’t bother to try and get her number? Geez, you’re rustier at all this than Capsicle!”

Pulling away from his microscope, Bruce took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I already told you, Tony, I gave her my business card before I got off the train. If she wants to contact me, then she will and we can see where we go from there.”

Tony rolled his eyes and sighed as he spun his desk chair around in a circle. “Yeah, that’s just the way every woman dreams of being wooed. Ever hear of romance, Brucie?”

“Did you seriously just call me-?”

“If you knew her last name and where she went to school, then we could have J.A.R.V.I.S. track her down and then you could go down there and surprise her…” The billionaire’s face illuminated with a bright smile. “I’m talking flowers, chocolates, expensive dinner reservations, front-row tickets to Hamilton, the whole shebang. You could easily sweep this chick off her exhausted and stressed-out feet, dude, if only you’d just bothered to take a page out of your BFF’s book.”

Bruce snorted. “And conversely, have you ever heard of stalking in the fourth degree? Those tricks might work with Pepper but you’re you and I’m me, Tony, and I’m definitely not the kind of guy that women would want to be swept off their feet by. I can’t even remember when I last went on a date, it’s been so long-”

The muffled chiming of Bruce’s cellphone echoed throughout the laboratory and interrupted his protests; he unearthed the phone from beneath a pile of loose papers and frowned when he noticed a new text message from an unknown number, but his confusion quickly shifted to elation once he read the text.

Unknown: Hi Bruce, this is (Y/N) from the train. You’ll be pleased to know that I got an A on my final!

The gif of a cutely-animated Spock dancing around in circles on the bridge of the U.S.S. Enterprise made Bruce snort in amusement, and it was soon followed up by a second text.

Unknown: Would it be too forward to ask if I can buy you a coffee, to thank you again for double-checking my notes and brightening my day?

“It seems that I might’ve misjudged your mystery lady…” Tony admitted as he peered over Bruce’s shoulder at the cell phone in his hand, a small but genuine smile on his bearded face. “You know what the word ‘halcyon’ means? It indicates a period of time in the past that was idyllically happy and peaceful, but a funny thing about that word is that can also describe happiness in the general sense.” Bruce arched a brow and the billionaire shrugged. “Pepper’s got me listening to some philosophy podcasts, they’re weird but pretty good. My point is that your chance for halcyon isn’t gone, my Jolly Green friend; it’s quite literally in the palm of your hand, but you’ve gotta be the one to hold on tight to it.”

The billionaire clapped Bruce on the shoulder and whistled a show-tune as he left him alone in the laboratory. The scientist reveled in the lighthearted feeling that threatened to consume him, unable to recall the last instance he’d felt so pleased to receive a simple text; (Y/N) knew about the Other Guy and the life Bruce led as an Avenger, and yet she still reached out on her own volition and even invited him out for coffee. It was presumptive to assume she felt the same way about him, but he’d be naïve not to acknowledge the intensity that had been evident in her (Y/E/C) eyes when they shook hands on the train.

“It’s just a cup of coffee,” Bruce muttered to himself, nervously biting his lip as he stared down at his phone, his thumbs hovering over the keyboard in hesitation. “Not necessarily my halcyon…”

The scientist typed out his enthusiastic reply and he couldn’t help but smile again, his heart hammering away in his chest as he thought about all the data he’d need to collect to prove his halcyon hypothesis correct and how nice it would be to have a scientist as lovely as (Y/N) to conduct some experiments alongside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Aww, I love a happy ending! Bonus points to anyone who can guess which show-tune Tony was humming (Hint: It’s from an old film musical that people consider to be a Christmas movie lol). Thank you all so much for reading and commenting, and I hope that you have a wonderful holiday season!

Fanfiction Masterlist

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#the halcyon hypothesis #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x female reader #bruce banner #hulk x reader #hulk x you #hulk x female reader #hulk #doctor banner x reader #doctor banner x you #doctor banner x female reader #doctor banner #tony stark #iron man #pepper potts #steve rogers #captain america #marvel cinematic universe

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marshmallow-the-vampire-slayer · 5 years

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Was there anything you liked in S4? I understand why a lot of people didn't like where they took the character arcs and the ending, but I thought there were a lot of good parts to appreciate. I thought the way they wrote the functionality of Logan and Veronica's adult relationship (with him being gone and back so often) was a great way to extend their "high highs/low lows" relationship they had as young adults. And I thought Logan's action sequence in the hotel was INCREDIBLE.

Honestly, probably the only thing that I truly enjoyed about season 4 was the Logan/Veronica scenes - most of them, anyway -, and the Logan scenes. And that’s it.

There were many, many things that I didn’t like or didn’t understand about the rest of the season, but I was already willing myself to overlook them if it meant the show would be taken in an interesting direction. Apart from the atrocious ending and how I feel personally betrayed by it, I wasn’t really on-board with Veronica’s characterization. Her snark turned into meanness, and she was missing her marshmallow center altogether. There were just too many poor and/or nonsensical writing choices that I just cannot get past.

It’s baffling how Rat Thomas completely misfired and lost touch with both the characters and the world he created as well as the fan base who got him and his show to this point. He truly must be suffering from a God complex of epic proportions if he truly thought the show that was resurrected multiple times BECAUSE OF FAN SUPPORT would survive to have most of its fandom alienated basically on a whim and due to a self-admitted lack of writing ability.

Sorry if this turned into a rant. I can’t go a day without feeling hurt and betrayed by what they did with my show. I honestly can’t see past it, and any good that might have come out of this show has been overshadowed by Logan’s death and what it means for Veronica and the show.

#Veronica Mars #Veronica Mars Season 4 #Logan Echolls #LoVe #spacewhore9 #replies

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fcparagon · 5 years

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I’m done.

I suppose [SPOILER WARNING] can be given, but who cares at this point? And no, I'm not watching Game of Thrones. This is not a rant post per se, because I have nothing left in me other than pure, raw disappointment towards this show.

David & Dan, do you understand the weight of your responsibility as writers? Do you think you can show whatever the hell you want in the name of artistic integrity? You not only have the responsibility to write content in a way that is coherent and sensible, but you also need to understand the message that you put across when you write. The fans of this show, relate to the characters and the story. They are tools through which people not only try to acquire entertainment and a form of escapism but also draw strength from them. I’ve seen shows going off the rails, but never on such an epic proportion. Just because you’re writers, you think you’re entitled to show whatever you want? Do you not understand that this show is just not yours, it’s the fans as well? In one episode, you’ve destroyed a character who is loved by millions across the globe. You’ve turned a woman, whose aim was to destroy tyrants and save innocents, a hero in every sense, into a woman who has gone mad over grief, and fear. In one episode, you’ve turned every person of color in her army, into a group of savages, and barbarians. Through your misogynistic writing, you’ve basically given the message that women in power are unstable, that they don’t have their reigns on their own emotions and impulses, that they always need a man to keep them grounded, give them sound advice. I’ve heard stories of women who went through abuse take strength from Daenerys’ character, because she too was someone who faced abuse, rape, slavery, betrayal, spent her childhood living in fear from assassins, lost her entire family, and yet tried to get back on her feet and reach a point in her life where she would rule with justice, protecting her people, giving them the sort of life she never had. All Daenerys Targaryen ever wanted was a family, to be happy, to live in a house with a red door and a lemon tree. The tragedy that her character arc turned into is by far one of the most devastating things I’ve ever had to witness. You’ve reduced that woman into nothing but a shell of what she was, doing everything she swore she wouldn’t do, and in a span of a single episode, you’ve destroyed her character, and the dreams of millions of women who looked up to her, all for the sake of shock value. You’ve basically given them the message that as someone who has been abused, you will eventually become an abuser yourself. That’s what you’ve told them. Of course, a “man” is better, because having a dick somehow makes a ruler more sensible. Emilia Clarke, who plays Daenerys, who suffered from brain aneurysm twice, and almost lost her life, took strength from her character, and it helped her feel empowered, knowing that such a female character exists, who is not only strong but inspires millions of other women. Now I understand why she was broken and took a long drive when she first read the scripts. If you think the fans feel outraged, I can’t even imagine how the actors and the actresses feel about their characters having gone out of the rails. They’re the ones who are truly in tune, and close to their characters, and they can’t even rant out. I’m sorry Emilia, that in this final season, this is what you had to portray. Coming back to it, the way you portray people of color, shows just how little you think about the implications of writing colored people. They’re not allowed to live free. They’re either put in chains, or they’re barbaric. In two episodes, we’ve seen both of these come true. The Unsullied, and the Dothraki, are basically immigrants, and you’ve just shown them invade a city and barbarically killing innocents. Way to go David & Dan. It’s not only Daenerys, but they’ve also managed to destroy every-single-character in this show. Every single plotline, every single prophecy, foreshadowing, character arcs, they’ve just thrown them out the window. How did they write this stuff, and think that the fans would like them? And just think, these are the same writers who now have keys to writing content for Star Wars. Good luck Star Wars fans. You’ve got two writers, who have proven to us that they’re nothing without source materials. Seriously, I’ve read fan fictions that are way better than this train wreck. If they did portray any characters out of the ordinary, they would’ve given solid proof, and foreshadowing for it to make sense. I can’t even imagine what GRRM must be thinking of this show now. I can’t imagine how the cast would answer questions from the fans. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that this is how they would choose to end a show that has been on for nearly a decade.

This entire shenanigan is a huge lesson for me as a Literature student. If I’m to write a story one day, I will take lessons from this on how not to write a story, and really focus on writing coherent content, while doing justice to the plots and the characters. Suffice to say, I will not be watching any more of this nonsense, simply because I can’t bring myself to. This reminds me of the time when Mass Effect 3 came out, and the developers tried to justify it by calling it “artistic integrity”, only this time it’s 10x worse. I don’t want to debate about this with anyone. I don’t want anyone telling me, “Oh this makes perfect sense. In order for her to destroy tyrants, she became one herself. Poetic justice. Blah blah blah…” Keep it to yourself. I don’t want to hear any of it.

I hope the fans rate this episode to the absolute bottom score. This is the only way we can tell those jackasses, to pull their head out of their asses if they ever want to work as writers in the future. I hope people rate Season 8 as the worst season in television history because it is.

#ScrewTheThrone

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thegreymoon · 5 years

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Sorry, You didn't really say or do anything to make me think that you are Asian. I thought that I read sth in your lj where u said that you were and just run with it. It was a long time ago and I must have misread. Also, you don't really post a lot political stuff, it is more like I notice it more because when I visit your page I skip all Merlin related stuff and am interested in the rest so again my fault. As for my ise of imaginary- yeah, it was passive agressive, altough not intentionally so

… my bad. I rarely engage in political conversations online because it never ends well, especially when my views clash with 90% of tumblr users so I am used to combative tone and it was unnecessary.. As for SJW I am not sure if that is dissmissive term as it discribes the “movement” well? I am not native speaker and am aware that it can be used as derogative term, but was also convinced that it is used by people on the left if political spectrum. I asked you why you are mainy interesetd in USA because I was working under the assumption that u are Asian it seemed to me weird that a person coming from China/Japan etc would be championing social justice in USA when it not that big of a problem(or at all IMO) whie ignoring very real problems in their own country. But since you are not Asian and you post political stuff rarely you are right it is a silly discussion. The fault is completely on my side. I am allergic to these kind of stuff and you are one of my favourite writers so I exaggerated. Once again sorry.

As for the rest of your response: I also come from relatively poor country that was screwed over by both Britain and USA and many other countries, and I don’t agree with many of their policies (or most) but I don’t hate them and believe that as much as people like to say they start wars for the oil etc it is not really true. There are many political and global players and everyone single country is motivated by greed it is only that not every country can exercise their power.

Relatively they are not the worst, it is just that since USA tries to paint themselves as heroes they are held to different, much higher standards than other countries. To sum it up, I am not defending their foreign policies, they have done a lot of wrong and are shortseighted but I still think that are better than other superpowers that will soon take over like China or maybe India. Also, I don;t understand why would you include global warming in your answer?why do you believe it is their fault

I am trying to leave as “green” as I can, I am a vegetarian and I believe we should do everything to preserve environment, but I wouldnt want my country to sign any deals concerning CO2 emission as long as other countries do not do the same. Otherwise, they would just cripple their economy and not help the world? As for Trump(if you are still interested) I find him the epitome of self-important, conceited stereotypical american but still so much better than alternative and despite distaste. would still vote for him. Because he at least apppears to be anti globalist and has a much higher moral ground than Hillary. what are his SPECIFIC actions that you find so abhorrent? Anyway, what I alluded to in my message was not politics of USA but the social justcie issues, like support BLM or me to movement(I am not sure if you posted enything regarding that, so srry if I presume wrongly) which I find are absolutely not based on facts and despite that people still perpetuate that, and if u don’t agree you are racist and sexist. No arguments whatsoever. It is also silly to me when I see the posts about the West being this cesspool of sexism while honour killings or FGM is nearly a non issue on social media or racism when considering the West is still the least racist place in the world when you compare it to China/India/SA or any other place. So, I find the social media effort to be misdirected and controlled by emotions. Even the indigineous people issued you mentioned. Americans get so much shit for their history, while pretty much every single country that exist was created by conquering or displacement of the previous population(u just have to go far enough down the history). So, yeah wht happend to Indigenous people and dissappearance of their whole civilization is a great tragedy but not the first and unfortunately not the last in human history. Why are we hearing about it but not about Anuit people or Persian or Byzantians? it is so imbalanced. Ok, anyway, sorry for the rant it shouldn’t be directed at you and tumblr is definitely not the place for it. Sorry if I offended to you. As I said I love your writing, “DC” is my all time favourite fic, and because I creepely once read through all of your lj(including asks and responses) I(like an internet creep and stalker)liked you and thought you seemed smart, well balanced and knowledgeable so I guess I felt entitled to to make the ask. Wish you all the best in life.

No worries, I’m sorry I came off so aggressive in my answer. I did actually live and work in China for a while during my LJ days and it’s entirely possible I may have tagged myself as being there on my fandom profiles at the time. It was a happy period for me and I talked about it a lot to anyone who had the patience to listen, so it’s very plausible that you have read something about it on my LJ! I’m very sorry if it was misleading, but I was only ever an expat there!

I used to be a lot more open about my real name and real-life dealings in fandom communities, but that almost backfired spectacularly, so I locked down a lot of stuff because it could do me quite a bit of damage.

OK, I concede your point that if you remove the Merlin stuff, a lot of what is left on my Tumblr is going to be either me reblogging cats or raging about social injustices (oops) 😅

I’d just like to make it clear that I absolutely do not hate either the USA, the UK or any other country in the world. Like I said, people are people, and disgusting policies are disgusting policies and every single country is guilty of them. It’s just that some have a bigger impact and are more visible. My own country is a source of so much shame and anger for me, it far outweighs anything the UK and the USA could have ever done because it’s personal, but our nonsense is just not something that I come across when casually scrolling through Tumblr, so I don’t reblog it. It’s possible to love a nation and its people and still be critical of the evil they have done.

Also, let me just clarify that I’m bothered by all injustices and human rights violations everywhere, but usually there isn’t a post about them when I’m scrolling at 2 am at night that I can reblog. The USA is just… low hanging fruit, and let’s face it, from where I stand, hating on their president, the white supremacists, the Nazis, fundamental Christians, racists and the Republicans in general after what they have turned into is not hating on the USA, but rather cheering on the sane part of the country to get rid of this toxic waste ASAP. The same goes for Brexiteers in the UK and I am so, so sad for all the people that are going to suffer because of it.

Of course, I’m aware that China and Japan have issues and human rights violations that are mind-boggling, but again, they just don’t appear on my dash very often, or at least not in English or from a source I can easily fact-check. The Japanese and Chinese stuff I follow is mostly art, nature and pictures of pretty clothes. My knowledge of either of these countries is very superficial compared to Western countries, which impact me directly, so it really isn’t my place to appoint myself as a champion of human rights in the Far East when my own country and continent are a growing dumpster fire that cannot be contained.

On the subject of global warming, I’m not blaming the USA (entirely, because they, of course, played their part, but so did the rest of humanity). I’m enraged by their governing body’s rhetoric as of late, the denial of climate change, every single action that Trump took since taking office (such as withdrawing from the Paris climate agreement), him making ignorant, snide remarks in the middle of the polar vortex just days ago while people were suffering, deliberately sabotaging scientists and spreading dangerous, false information when each and every single country should be all-hands-on-deck if we want to avert a disaster of global proportions (especially with all the signs pointing to us being too late already). Nobody is suggesting that the USA should unilaterally reduce carbon emissions, all countries in the world must do it and develop the technology to make it feasible to convert to clean energy. And yes, the USA, China and other giants have to lead the way because they are the ones with the power! My poor, tiny country is not the one that can impact anything, so yes, the USA is absolutely more responsible to lead the way forward, but instead of at least moving in the right direction, Trump is deliberately lying and sabotaging all effort because he likes the money he gets from Big Oil companies, and he’s giving a platform to religious nutcases for votes, who think that there won’t be a global disaster of epic proportions in the near future because God promised Noah he would never again flood the entire Earth in the Old Testament. It’s not even the outright evil that is bothering me the most right now, but the mind-numbing stupidity.

I have nothing but loathing for both of the Clintons. They have caused so much destruction in my country and I do not want good things for either of them, ever. I will never pretend that Hillary Clinton is anything even resembling a good person because you do not reach that level of power by having a conscience, but at the very least, she is not a rapist and paedophile that the general public knows of (which is more than we can say for her husband, btw). Trump has no moral high ground whatsoever, IMO. He has done everything imaginable, from scamming charities (this was proven in court) to raping minors (see Epstein). He has no redeemable human characteristics and is not even intelligent enough to pretend that he does, which is at least one thing that Hillary has going for her. I’m not going to sit here and list all the reasons why Trump is abhorrent because a) it cannot fit in a Tumblr post b) I would be sitting here for years.

I will also not engage in discussion about whether or not BLM is a valid movement, ever. I don’t understand what you mean when you say it isn’t based on ‘facts’. Which, facts are in doubt, exactly? It’s based on multigenerational, still ongoing trauma and persecution of an entire race of people! I’m neither black nor an American, but I believe African-American people when they talk about the terror they experience on a daily basis in their own country. I have eyes and I have ears, I know plenty of white people and have insight into how they think because I too am white and have been raised with similar bullshit. I have lived in Africa for years and seen things with my own eyes. I will never not take the side of black people when they protest racism anywhere and I will never not believe them when they talk about police brutality, race-based violence and systemic racism in countries built on slavery.

Of course, I’m not saying racism doesn’t exist in other places and in other forms, but talking about one does not negate the other.

Also, I don’t understand the point you’re trying to make about the West not being sexist because other places have it worse? I’m sure I misunderstood this, so forgive me if that is the case. FGM is terrible, yes, but that in no way invalidates other types of gender violence that still ruins the lives of countless women. Just because the women in, say, Saudi Arabia have it worse, that doesn’t mean that the women here or in the USA should not talk about issues that directly affect them (and, btw, I have absolutely been outraged about Saudi Arabia and FGM and shared posts about both). All are bad! This is not a competition.

On the topic of you saying that America gets so much shit for its history, which you think is unjust, I have to mention that European settlers killed up to 95% of Native Americans in some areas in relatively recent history. Just days ago, I was reading an article about how they killed so many people, it actually changed the global climate! This is genocide on such a massive scale, my brain can’t even comprehend it, and yet here we are today, with Columbus Day and Thanksgiving as holidays while the surviving Native Americans suffer all kinds of indignity and discrimination, so no, I don’t think we are talking about it enough and I feel that America deserves all the shit it gets for its history. IMO, it is not getting enough shit! The fact that there are other issues out there that need to be talked about too and are being silenced does not in any way take away from any of this.

Anyway, let’s not argue about which country is The Worst™ and which human rights issues are more worthwhile than others because that is pointless. We already agree that all governments are corrupt, that evil happened and is still happening all over the world and that all human rights issues are important. I firmly believe that if they were to be evaluated by a psychiatrist, 99% of all high-ranking politicians would be diagnosed with serious clusters of antisocial personality disorders. Most of them would do anything and the only thing stopping them is whether or not they can get away with it. The remaining 1% cannot really do much and keep both their conscience and political power intact.

In any case, the last thing I want in life is to get into Tumblr discourse with LJ people, so how about we just put this behind us? Let’s agree to disagree on who is worse, Trump or Hillary, because that is a pointless disagreement, especially since neither of us is an American and this is getting out of hand. I feel like we are actually miscommunicating and talking about different things. We seem to be arguing different points, so all of it is coming off worse for both of us than it really should be. Also, I wish you hadn’t sent me this ask anonymously, because I now have no way of responding to you except publically, and Tumblr is seriously not a good place for this.

On a happier note, I’m very glad that you enjoyed DC! I’m very sorry for the extremely long hiatus! Unfortunately, I’ve been going through things that stopped me from writing for a long time. I hope that one day I can still come back and finish that story, in spite of everything! Have a good day/night! :)

*hugs*

#social issues #Anonymous #tl;dr

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blueraith · 6 years

Text

Some folks still need to learn how to constructively comment

Wish I could say that I’ve been writing Chapter... 12(? Legit, I don’t often remember the chapter numbers outside of the Google doc) since posting Chapter 11 (we’re just gonna assume I know where the fuck I’m at in my own story, okay? Give me this).

But that would be a bald faced lie.

(Mostly because of my sister’s graduation and all the family visiting and the concurrent back injury I was suffering. Really kills the writing mood when you can’t sit up properly to type.)

This is going under a read more, because this incident Vexed Me To The Max(TM) and triggered a Rant of Epic Proportions(TM).

But graduation has been over, and my back has been feeling great. What really kept me a bit down since all that was over and done with is that very morning I’m feeling better, I see that I have two comments on the 100 fic I’ve put on indefinite hiatus. Yeah, it’s not an active story, but I still care about it, and I’ve been thinking about it recently. So, in short. I still care about it a hell of a lot. Hell, I care about everything that I write. I’ve written fanfiction at what’s nearing 10 years now, but nothing has erased the fact that putting yourself out there in the public eye takes a hell of a lot of effort and, sure, a smidgen of courage and confidence.

Well, this lovely commenter told me that my word count was way too high, that I was slowing my story down, and that they skipped to the last chapter (from Chapter 2, they skipped 6 chapters of ongoing character development, an ensemble cast, Ark politics, and canon fix-its) “40k words and [Clarke’s] still not on the ground yet??”

This is me paraphrasing both comments. I deleted them with extreme prejudice from the fic because I wasn’t leaving that kind of useless bullshit on my work after it effectively ruined my mood for, like, four days.

Why was it bullshit? Well, for one thing taking the average word count per chapter, it’s only a little over 5k words per chapter. Look. I balance out my word counts very carefully for each story that I write. This fic has a longer than average word count compared to my more recent stuff (which is around 4k per chapter) because of all the fuckin shit I was pulling off in this particular fic. Reworking canon to better explain why the Arkers were resistent to the radiation on the ground while having the superior blood that the Mountain Men wanted without putting them up in their shitty space station for thousand of years that evolution would have actually required them to have gone through to be remotely realistic.

Jake’s alive in this fic because I don’t like dead characters shaping character development on a pre-canon basis. Personally, I dislike orphan/parental loss storylines before the specific original work has even started. I get that orphans exist in real life. But YA media has a disproportionate amount of dead parents. Eh. I wanted to do something different. So, this means there’s an entire extra character in the story that I have to write and develop.

Diana Allers actually matters in day to day Ark life instead of just showing up and nearly murdering everyone because she’s a selfish bitch for little to no reason other than to make Abby’s already pretty damn full storyline even more packed than it already was. (Seriously, why didn’t they develop Allers more? She’s lazily implemented in canon, and I hate it. Lord only knows I enjoyed Abby and Raven’s plotlines far more in several places of Season 1 rather than Bellamy’s Manpain Adventures Lite Before He Turns Into A Complete And Utter Psychopath Later On In The Series).

Jaha is far more competent and slimey than he is in the show, rather than being a foolish man who is barely toddering along in the plot towards something useful.

Abby and Jake are at odds because Jake technically betrays Clarke and allows her to get arrested in the beginning of the story. They adopt Raven in the interim and they’re all awkwardly trying to free Clarke while pretending that Jake and Abby aren’t having marital problems. Well, Jake and Abby are pretending, Raven is as blunt as she usually is and just calls shit like she sees it.

Ensemble cast. There’s literally a tag on this story that tells you all that “This Story Is Literally About Everyone.”

So.

Yeah.

Clarke’s not on the fucking ground yet. But you wouldn’t know that, would you? Having skipped past 6 chapters.

Is 5k really that long? I wouldn’t know, personally when I read a longfic, I go into it knowing that the chapters might be long as fuck because I know that I’m reading a fic that could literally take me through several days and I read pretty damn fast. Not that 40k words is really all that much when you’re rewriting a TV show using all the characters who already exist in canon and then getting into their thoughts and motivations because that is literally what books do, this isn’t a screenplay, I wouldn’t be caught dead writing one because I despise them. Sorry, but you’re getting the full range of thoughts and emotions of everyone involved. I know, that’s just awful, getting hours and hours of content for free, but god forbid the plot doesn’t run on your timetable.

But that’s really the crux of this rant, isn’t it? NEVER complain about word counts, people. Too short? Who the fuck cares? The author could be just beginning their writing careers, so to speak. Word counts of any significance takes practice, first of all. So, not only could they might or might not have the required experience to write longer chapters, they may not even want to. And that’s fine. Because they do this FOR FREE.

Same thing with longer chapters. Are you really going to come at me, nearly a year after I’ve written and posted this work, complaining about word count, as though there’s even a remote chance that I’m going to go back and edit down all of that time and effort I put into that work to satisfy your fragile reading stamina?

Pfffffffffft.

I mean, this is funny to me in some regard because I’m over here wondering just what would be a good length for this person. Part of the reason my chapters tend to be at least 4k words long is because that’s generally where I can get a comfortable amount of character interaction, introspective thought, and plot moving forward. All three of those things matter to me when writing chapters. I hate reading too short works (and no, I don’t tell these authors this. I read what they give me and just deal with it because they’re entertaining me for free) and it’s little more than characters just trading dialogue with each other. I want to know what they are thinking about as well. I want a bit of narration. I’m reading something from a specific character’s point of view, and I want that chapter to ooze the personality of that character.

These are all the things I keep in mind when I write to my word count goals, personally. Doing it in less than 3k words might be possible, but it would sure as hell be annoying.

But most of all, it just irritated the fuck out of me. Like I’ve said multiple times in this rant. I do this for free. I don’t expect you guys to know this, but in order to get these substantial updates when I can manage to actually feel well enough to write and get them published, it takes me EIGHT TO TWELVE HOURS of sitting in front of a computer screen to have a chapter finished. On a good day. Yes. Most of the chapters I put out are done in one day, in one block, and I’m often up until 5 AM finishing something up. I have severe ADHD. Sometimes it is a chore to get shit put on a page because I can’t sit down and focus my thoughts enough to sound even coherent. Sometimes I have issues keeping up with what the beginning of a long sentence was about and I have to constantly keep up with what the fuck I’m even talking about in any given thought.

So, you have an author with a severe executive function disorder attempting to concentrate hard enough to get her own thoughts in character for each and every character that is featured in any given story while attempting to resist even the most mundane distractions while desperately hoping she’s going to hit a period of hyperfocus long enough to get substantial work down, but if that happens she’ll probably forget to eat because she’s on a writing binge that goes on with actual significant work for a period of several hours.

I love writing, despite the challenges I have to deal with in order just to get it done. I love most of the comments that I receive. I’m coming off a period of extreme depression from some family issues I was dealing with. My skin is rather thin at the moment and that irritated the fuck out of me, but those two comments knocked more wind out of my sails that I really wanted them to, and that bugs me even more.

But I am more experienced in fic writing than probably your average person. This commenter pissed me the fuck off, but I’ve moved past this, it’s hardly shattered my motivation to write forever.

But a careless commenter could easily do that to someone just getting into fanfiction. And it makes me wonder just how often this happens everyday, every hour, when entitled, spoiled people who think their needs are more important than the author doing this FOR FREE decide to voice their terrible opinions on their works. I love my readers, I don’t hold myself beholden to them, but they are extraordinarily important to me. Plot, pacing, and character development are all my own when I write because first and foremost, I write for myself. It’s a hobby that I clearly have to work very hard at to even be remotely successful at, and taking anyone else’s standards into account is never going to happen when I have to live up to my own already very high expectations. But I do keep y’all in mind when I’m devoting my time, energy, and effort in. The chapter lengths I have partly exist to make up for the wait times I inevitably have between each release. I very much know that I am sporadic and inconsistent when updating. So, when I do, I want to have something that isn’t just a whisper in the wind when it finally cycles to the top of the AO3 listing.

I know there are inevitably readers who didn’t like my content, or do think my stuff is too long. That’s fine. But don’t come into my space and give me two comments that were effectively “TL;DR” and expect that not to be a slap in the face. Because it is. I have wonder if the fandom kids today even know the kind of slap backs this sort of thing would have gotten in LiveJournal.

But, never mind that. I’m a big girl, I took some petty revenge in deleting that bullshit from my boards and then setting the fic to moderated mode, but what I would like anyone who decides to read through what is actually a long winded post (all my rants are, admittedly) to learn is that you are not reading professional work. You are not reading work that has been paid for. You are not reading work that has been professionally edited. I’m not saying that you can’t have standards for fic, lord knows I have many, but I don’t go into an author’s work and leave shitty comments. Never. Constructive criticism on fanfiction keeps the author’s time in mind, their skill level over what they’re actually capable of, and whether or not they’re even open to criticism. Some authors don’t even want your advice. They just want to know that you liked it. And if you don’t, just don’t say anything. I’m not quite that fragile personally, when someone is giving me useful criticism that can be used to actually improve my quality of writing, but I will freely admit that clearly I have a sore spot about comments addressing word counts.

Get out of here with that shit.

In short. If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.

#fanfiction wank #shitty commentating #learn to constructively comment #pissed me right the fuck off #Rant Of Epic Proportions(TM)

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distinctivelibrarians · 7 years

Note

Here's a prompt if you like/want to write it: Sleep deprived Jacob.

Thank you so much for this prompt! And I am so sorry this took me so long! Like… I have no excuses actually. I got distracted, then busy with school, then distracted again and I am just really sorry.

BUT If it’s any consolation, this turned into the longest prompt-fill I’ve done? Completely by accident, whoops.

Also, it’s probably more angsty than it should’ve been. But, I hope you like it!

cross-posted to ao3 here

warnings: alcohol mention (drinking as coping, briefly mentioned, not on-screen), alluded disassociation episodes

It wasn’t something anyone set out to notice. But, by the time they did, they were all living out of each other’s pockets, whether they liked it or not. They all knew far more about each other than they probably would’ve liked - and all lived with it the same way anyone does when stuck in close conditions: teasing, ignoring it, making comments when things change but otherwise, just leaving it be.

If Jenkins was nursing coffee, speaking to him before it was gone was a bad idea. Flynn had regular arguments with the Library, and it was best to just step out of his way. Eve would start fiddling with whatever was in reach if she needed to punch something (or, you know, just work out for a bit, whatever she called it). Sunglasses meant talking quietly around Cassandra for awhile. Loose valuables during a conversation or meeting were basically asking Ezekiel to lift them - for practice, promise. Jacob could fall asleep, anywhere, anytime, and wake up just as easily to rejoin the conversation.

The first couple of times it happened, there had been a couple worried noises - did something happen, why wasn’t he sleeping at home, is this really that boring, and the like - which, he, of course, brushed off. If pressed, he blamed working with his Pop at drill sites since he was old enough to know when to move out of the way; there, the noise never stopped, but if you wanted to function without heart-palpitating amounts of caffeine, you took what sleep you could. No one really pointed out that sleeping before work could’ve fixed that.

Eventually, it was just normal to find Jacob asleep at his desk, only to pop back up a little while later and go back to typing like he hadn’t stopped. Or passed out two minutes into a car trip whenever the team couldn’t be bothered with the Back Door. Or curled up in a corner in the stacks, books piled around him, listening to quiet music on a pair of beat-up headphones. Or tucked into a corner of a couch in the theatre, some random movie playing low - and that one had been interesting, since everyone had spent the hour up to that actively looking for the man.

It was just a normal facet of working at the Library. You refilled Jenkins coffee cup if he kept glaring, made sure Flynn didn’t walk into bookshelves, got out of Eve’s way, got Cassandra advil and tea, watched your pockets around Ezekiel, and occasionally stepped over a passed out Jacob.

Which, of course, meant that as soon as they’d all settled into the fine-lined rhythm of working around each other, one little thing was all it took to screw it up.

It wasn’t a sudden thing, which is the only reason Cassandra and Ezekiel cut themselves a little slack, later on. Jacob didn’t come into the Library the next day suddenly looking wiped and out of sorts. He didn’t stop sleeping at his desk from one day to the next. They still sometimes tripped over him between the shelves. He still popped right back into conversations as if he hadn’t just been quietly snoring, leaning against the window in the car.

But, sure enough, each happened less and less, after they came back from Oklahoma. Coffee mugs took up the space on his desk he normally cleared to rest his head. Trips back into the maze of shelves always ended up with him back at his desk. He was still quiet in the car - enough that if no one was paying attention, he might as well have been asleep - watching whatever landscape was blurring past the windows.

Jacob came into the Library earlier and earlier, to the point that he even tended to beat Eve in - she’d end up wandering through the Back Door, as put together as anyone was at six am, to find Jacob perched at his desk, empty coffee mug beside him, sparing her a ‘good morning’ and not much else.

It took weeks for the bags under his eyes to become obvious - and whether that was because it had taken that long for them to become bruised smears or because he finally just gave up hiding them, they still didn’t know, and didn’t really want to ask when it was all said and done.

Jenkins made off-comments about being able to go through the shelves without tripping. Flynn remarked about no longer being worried about waking Jacob up when he was arguing at the Library. Eve seemed to enjoy having a near on-call sparring partner in the mornings. Cassandra and Ezekiel teased along - and why wouldn’t they. Outside of the bags and sudden caffeine intake, Jacob was as lively as usual, as focused on cases, as likely to bust into a historical rant of truly epic proportions.

Up until Ezekiel caught Jacob curled up in the theatre again. He hadn’t even known Jacob was in the Library that night - they’d all split early, as a reward for finishing up a case with absolutely no problems (“A goddamn miracle. Get outta here before the universe decides to laugh at us.”) Hell, he was only there because he’d wanted to ask Jenkins about a couple of exhibits he’d cased a couple years ago - he remembered them being funky, and he’d wanted to double check a couple things before he forgot again.

It took him a couple moments to figure out just what was wrong with the scene - it almost looked exactly like when they found Jacob in the theatre a couple weeks ago: asleep, with some no-name movie on in the background. Then, he hadn’t smelled like a distillery though (thankfully, he was empty-handed at least). And he’d been actually asleep, not watching the screen with heavy-lidded eyes like he was now. Ezekiel made the executive decision to leave him the hell alone that night. And if he went back to check a couple of times, just to make sure Jacob was still there and still empty-handed, well. No one else was there to notice.

And up until Cassandra caught Jacob in research loop. It didn’t click the first couple of times she watched him get up from his desk and head into the stacks, only to come back empty-handed. But by the fourth or fifth, he’d started looking frustrated, bordering on angry, and when she’d followed him back, he’d ended up staring at the shelves, just. Confused. And a little bit lost. She’d stepped in at that point, asking if he wanted any help looking for something. He’d looked painfully embarrassed, but also so relieved it broke her heart just a little bit. (And just a little bit more when it turned out what he was looking for was on the other side of the Library.) He’d muttered a thanks and returned to his desk, not moving from it for the rest of the day.

After that, Ezekiel and Cassandra noticed more and more - after another week of sidestepping around each other, trying to figure out how to bring it up in the first place. Little things, here and there. More frustrated grumbling with his research. Fewer off-the-cuff history rants. More and more confused looks. A handful of nights where they found him in the theatre again (never as bad as that first though, thankfully). Darker and darker shadows under his eyes. Connecting everything back to him no longer sleeping in the Library was just that final push to get them to resolve to do something about it.

They both agreed that a subtle approach would probably work better - the last thing they needed was Jacob shutting them down completely, insisting he was fine and that they should just leave well enough alone. Which, he would. They knew he well enough by now for that. So. Subtle. They could do subtle.

“Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?”

“This tea is amazing, if you want to try it. Knocks me right out most nights.”

“Has coffee just. Replaced your blood?”

“What, no comment on the work of… Donatello? Wasn’t he one of the turtles?”

“You’ve been working on that paper for awhile, maybe you should take a break?”

“Jacob, really. Are you okay?”

“What the hell, mate. What happened?”

Okay, so. They couldn’t do subtle. In their defense, they thought they could. They went in with the best intentions. And, in their defense, their flailing and Jacob’s subsequent snapping, distracting (he was rather adept at it, and if the situation had been literally anything else, Ezekiel would’ve been impressed. The man somehow managed to get all four of them to focus on an artifact shelf for about three seconds. Just long enough for him to vanish) and running away had gotten Eve’s attention.

It took about thirty seconds of her cornering them in the kitchen off the Annex for them to spill everything. It came out in a tumble that they weren’t just riling him up for the hell of it - that they were actually worried, that he was getting worse and they could prove it. Which is about the time they figured out that Jacob had been hiding it a lot better around Eve and Jenkins, go figure.

It took another thirty minutes for them to convince her that they could handle this. Why they were set on handling it themselves… well, that could be answered later, if at all. Definitely not the point right now. And they really only got her to agree with a promise that if they couldn’t, they’d come to her. Which, given their last attempt, was a fair enough deal.

Subtly talking to Jacob was out. Watching him slowly devolve into a painful to watch swing between exhausted stumbling around the Library and manic typing at his desk was out. Cornering the man during regular hours were out (Seriously. It was impressive just how fast he could get out of a conversation.)

When they finally hit on something that worked, they both kind of kicked themselves, because honestly.

They were both in the second floor of the Annex, late at night, brainstorming (and sidestepping a serious conversation neither wanted to have just yet by focusing on how to help the, you know, topic of that conversation. But whatever), when Jacob wandered in through the main door and down the hall. He didn’t seem to notice them, instead heading back into the Library proper - the theatre most likely. Both of them shared a look when he got close enough for them to smell the bar on him - almost as strong as that first night, which sent Ezekiel’s stomach spiraling for a moment. To their relief, he seemed steady on his feet and bright eyed, so. Small blessings at least.

They gave it a minute, having a silent conversation that involved a lot of hand-waving, eyebrow ticks and weird faces before they hauled themselves up and after him, neither particularly enamored with the plan that they had settled on, but having nothing better to fall back on.

Sure enough, they found him in the theatre, the wide screen already playing… something. Some 80s action flick is about all Cassandra can figure. Jacob’s dropped on the couch in the center - one of several Jenkins insists he had nothing to do with getting into the theatre when it became clear that impromptu movie nights were going to be a thing - watching without really seeing anything.

They don’t know what it means, when, when they drop on the couch to either side of him, he takes a moment to just glance at both of them. No distracting, no running. Just a wet, heavy sigh that seems to sink him further into the couch.

They don’t say anything that night. Not when the movie rolls over into another mindless action flick. Not when Jacob’s head ends up on Ezekiel’s shoulder for all of two seconds before he snaps himself back up. Not when he shoves himself up after the third movie and leaves without a word. (And not when he comes in the next morning and refuses to look them in the eye.)

But he comes back that next night. And just like before, they sit with him. They don’t comment on the wet, shuddery breaths he heaves when the movie’s at its loudest. They don’t comment when he gets up - a hand their way to indicate they should stay - and comes back with a mug of coffee, and two cups of tea for them. They don’t comment when he rubs roughly at his eyes and shoves himself up straight, even if he stopped taking in anything on the screen an hour ago. He falls asleep against Cassandra’s shoulder for two minutes before he’s startling awake, shoving himself off the couch and leaving in the next moment.

He comes in late the next morning, looking rough, and worn, and all kinds of beaten down like he hasn’t let himself look these past couple of weeks. He meets their eyes for a breath, when he first gets in, before doing a remarkable impression of being wholly dedicated to his research for the rest of the day. He doesn’t bother to leave that night. Just waits for Eve to go home, Jenkins to disappear wherever it is he goes, and for Flynn to run out the Back Door after who knows what. When the Annex is quiet again, he gets up and heads back to the theatre.

Some silent black and white film is on, when Ezekiel and Cassandra get there.

No one says anything for a long time. Not about how they both sandwich him in closer than they had the nights before. Not about how his breathing has gone wet and heavy, and how they all know that if he had the energy, he’d be sobbing. And definitely about how the movie is switched to something loud and bright and fast without anyone asking, just when Jacob chokes on a rough gasp.

“…We left the cave, right?” It’s a soft question, his voice small and thin like Cassandra and Ezekiel had never heard before - hadn’t thought they could, coming from him. They’re careful not to stare at him - though they share a worried, panicked look over his head. They don’t rush into the reassurances, both holding themselves back just that bit.

They may not be masters at subtlety, but they’ve both had their own share of late nights, heavy moments, curled around themselves and scared, so scared the light the next morning will be wrong because something has so fundamentally changed - nights in hospital beds, soft, cool hands turned acidic on her fragile skin. Evenings in dank motels, in unnamed towns, a sharp weight in his chest, sick curling in his gut, as he realized no one was looking for him - that they knew that rushing in would crack the air around them.

They also know that that’s not the question he wants answered, not really.

“Yeah, we left. Weeks ago.” Ezekiel reassures anyway, voice low and almost lost to the explosions on screen.

“We all did.” Cassandra adds in, just as soft.

Its another long while before anyone speaks again. Long enough that when they look over, Jacob’s eyes are closed and his breathing has evened out, but they don’t dare move.

“It’s too quiet.” Neither of them will own up to startling when he speaks again, eyes still closed. (But, later, when things are better, and he’s willing to joke about this, he’ll insist both of them almost fell off the couch.) “At my apartment. Here. Whatever bar I can find. It’s all too quiet.”

Ezekiel’s the one to recover first, nose scrunched up as he parses his way through that, and about to comment on the loud explosions currently playing on screen.

“Not out here, Jones.” One hand comes up to tap his temple. “I keep thinking.” He pauses, voice catching for a moment before he pulls it together. “I keep thinking. I walked out of that hole. Lied right to his face and kept walking. Kept walking right back into the cave. Had to, right? Everything’s too quiet.” the last word spit out like a curse, a hand brought up over his eyes, as if to keep them closed despite everything. “I keep wondering if I didn’t get locked in there instead. ‘Cause I can’t create anything past this Library Can’t sleep. Can’t get drunk. Can’t… see anything past this.

“You know. My phone used to never shut up. Any time of day, stupid times of night. I’d get something from someone - one of my aunts telling me how the damn door still squeaks despite her son promising to fix it. One of my cousins crowing about a new car part he got for a steal, even if he couldn’t tell his own ass from an actual deal. Fuckin’… one of the guys at the rig, bitching about the hours. Something. But these past couple of weeks? Nothing. I can’t… can’t create anything. So, it’d make sense, right? If I was still stuck down there.” He sounds desperate by the end - not like he believes what he’s saying, but like he almost wants to.

Cassandra and Ezekiel have had years to come to terms with their families. With lost little moments meant to be shared and instead, hidden away. With holidays spent with whatever pockets of warmth they themselves could create. With the aches and pains that came with tumbling onto your own two feet without a helping hand. With looking over their shoulders and seeing empty space where once warm smiles waited for them. They’ve both had months now to get used to looking again - seeing proud smiles and fond, if exasperated, eye rolls.

Realizing Jacob hadn’t been looking, all this time, how he’d kept one foot out the door and planted firmly in the churned up dirt burned yellow by the sun back home… made a whole lot of sense actually.

And also explained how they’d all missed this. Afterall, of all of them, he was the only family man of the group. Not in a healthy way, necessarily - both of them still wanted to go toe to toe with Isaac about a couple of things, if they thought they’d get within ten feet of him with Jacob hauling them back - but definitely in a visceral way.

Having all of that yanked out from under him, after finally standing up to the shadow over his shoulders, after twenty-plus years of leaning so heavily on it, on building his entire self off of it? Adding in what had likely been a week or two of rough nights right after, and who knows how many bars he hit, if he was talking about how he couldn’t drink himself to sleep, yeah, they could see the spiral now, clear as day.

There was another conversation, over Jacob’s head where he’d slipped down farther into the couch, drained and limp from exhaustion, that consisted of more faces and head shakes than was probably wholly necessary. But, another plan was made.

Eve never asked how they fixed things. Which was probably for the best, since, up until it worked, Ezekiel and Cassandra hadn’t really been sure it would.

It had been the little things really, after that night. Invitations for nights out of the Library. Conversations continued over a near never-ending stream of texts, updates about stupid little things meant to make each other smile and laugh. Inviting themselves back to Jacob’s apartment - completely innocently and still completely not subtle, but apparently Jacob had given up completely on shooing the both of them off - for movie nights, where they stayed up later than he did on principle, arguing and chattering about everything and nothing under the sun, not loud, but not doing anything to keep quiet either.

Days out where the entire team did nothing job related. Nights in where they ordered take out, picked an awful movie that no one had seen, and either tore it to pieces or surprisingly loved it.

There were only five of them - and only two who were acutely aware of the actual plan. Maybe three. Who knew what Jenkins knew - but, slowly but surely, that quiet was filled back up. Connections built up, threaded through the Library but existing outside of it.

Things weren’t perfect. They still argued and bickered. They all still ended up hyperfocused on cases and everything narrowed back down to the Library. There were still nights Cassandra and Ezekiel would go looking and find Jacob in the theatre - but they’d take that over the one night they’d tracked him down to a no name dive bar - but always far apart and getting easier and easier to pull him out of.

(It wouldn’t have worked at all, they knew, without Jacob actively picking himself up either, actively trying to connect with the Library and the world again - but they also knew, he would’ve fallen right back down if they hadn’t been there to pick him up and keep him going.)

So, no, things weren’t perfect. But they were getting better. Would continue getting better. The bruises had disappeared from under Jacob’s eyes. Jenkins occasionally tripped over him, asleep, back in the stacks. Flynn occasionally had to tone down his rants towards the ceiling when Jacob was napping at his desk again. Eve got her sparring partner back, at more regular hours - and one that could actually hit now that he was well rested and coordinated again.

(And maybe, eventually, the three of them would stop sidestepping each other and have another conversation. But, one break through at a time.)

#the Librarians #Jacob Stone #my writing #long post #alcohol tw #dissociation tw #if that's even a tag #its not mentioned specifically that that's what's going on #but just in case #Anonymous

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plush-anon · 7 years

Text

Just saw Thor 3...

I... this movie PISSED ME THE FRICK FRACKIN FUCK OFF in SO MANY WAYS.

Non-spoiler things I liked before I rant under the cut (under the cut = spoilers):

Thor and Hulk’s relationship/scenes (the fight scene was probably the best one)

The Grandmaster (who was MAGNIFICENT)

Valkyrie (except for her “surprise” turnaround at the end - kinda poorly handled)

Valkyrie and Hulk’s interactions (not often, but surprisingly fun)

Hulk himself - I actually REALLY LIKED how they handled him. I was very pleasantly surprised by this

Heimdall - not on-screen long, but one of the few of the central Thor cast who was actually in character (and probably the ONLY one, really)

Hela... to an extent. She was okay, but she could have been GREAT.

Odin, a little bit (and isn’t THAT shocking - spoiler reasons explained under the cut).

Now you may notice two primary characters missing from the list -- that being Thor and Loki.

Well, they’re the reason why this movie pissed me off.

Good gods Taika, what did you DO?!? (spoilers below)

First off, Thor - Thor is just SO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT from ANYTHING we’ve really gotten to see. He’s always been one of the more serious Avengers, but still has a sense of humor to him at times (I actually really liked his characterization in Avengers 2 - it felt balanced, a bit of humor with an awareness of what was at stake, coupled with his own recklessness and sense of superiority to these Midgardians mucking about).

Here??!? Here he’s just... he’s like a douchbag dudebro more than half the time (see his whole “That’s what heroes do” I mean REALLY THOR?!?! What the hell, you are NOT Snow from FF15 here). His dialogue patterns are all over the fucking place. I’ve really liked that in the past MCU films Thor was in, he maintained his Asgardian dialect and pattern of speaking, with a few places where he shifts and starts to adopt some Midgardian terms. Here? I was actively surprised to hear him sound like he came from the Shakespearean-esque world of Asgard the few times he did. It was just such a shift in character - not to mention the humor attempts. The physical humor moments worked well - any time he actually tries to joke feels painful and forced, with maybe one or two exceptions. This wouldn’t be an issue, except THESE MOMENTS ARE EVERYWHERE IN THE GODSDAMNED FILM. He FEELS like a douchebag, he ACTS like an absolute asshole, and just... urugrurbrjhjrhjh.

And LOKI - oh, poor Loki, he REALLY got the short end of the stick here. Loki is seen as this incompetent, slimy weasel with no sense of loyalty. Any and all character development from Thor 2 - gone. Just vanished, like it never existed. He feels like a parody of his Avengers portrayal, with little to no nuance. Tom was trying, I could see it, but it did nothing to save it overall. (Also, what the hell was up with the play scene at the beginning?!?! That was just... skin-crawlingly unpleasant, and uncomfortable, and humiliating. Secondhand embarrassment was SKY HIGH folks)

There were maybe two scenes that felt like the two brothers were supposed to act. The first one was the scene just after Thor meets the Grandmaster, and is imprisoned in the eternal circle hallway. Loki sends an illusion to Thor to try to talk to him about what to do next. He talks about how he’s in the Grandmaster’s favor now, and between the two of them, they could work together up the ladder of favor, until they’re high up. Then, they could take down the Grandmaster together and make a life for themselves. Thor is angry, and silent, refusing to talk to Loki and pointedly throwing objects through his illusion (and making Loki increasingly upset, until he demands to know why Thor isn’t saying anything). When Thor finally speaks up, he basically goes over what’s happened the past few days - Loki actually was alive, Odin died after being banished (oh yeah, Odin’s dead now - he spoke to his sons about finding peace on Midgard, and how Frigga would be proud of Loki’s magic, and how he was sorry for how he wronged them over the years, dropped the bomb that ‘his time had come’ and that once he did, Thor’s imprisoned sister Hela would break free and take over, before Odin pulled an Oogway and dissolved into magical sparkly golden soul dust over the cliffs of Norway), Hela broke Thor’s hammer, and both of them went spiraling over into the causeways of space and onto Sakaar - and asks Loki how he can be expected to talk to Loki based off of the past few days alone, after all that that’s happened between them. Loki then dissolves his illusion and leaves.

There’s a nice parallel scene at the end of the movie (last 5 minutes actually) after they’ve escaped Hela and Asgard’s been destroyed. They talk briefly, Thor mentions that maybe there’s some good in him after all, before throwing a bottle top at him as he mentions his illusions and how he would hug him if he were actually in the room with him - only for Loki to catch it, proving he’s actually there. They cut away before anything else happens (cowards LET THEM HUG DAMMIT), but it parallels beautifully to the earlier scene. Had they actually developed Loki’s character beyond this point in the movie, and ALLOWED him to have a heroic partial redemption (from his neutral stance at the end of Thor 2), this would have been FANTASTIC. But it was only confusing, as every other scene with the two was a mess - except for one.

When Thor first meets the Grandmaster, he catches sight of Loki off to the side and grabs his attention, where they have a quick hushed conversation, before leading into the whole ‘I don’t know this man’ ‘He’s my brother!’ ‘I’m adopted’ scene we see in one of the released movie clips. I really do like this scene. I just.. do.

I WOULD list the elevator sequence (where Thor tells Loki it’s better for us to part ways and for Loki to stay on Sakaar, ‘Get Help’,etc.) if not for what happens immediately afterwards, where Loki tries to turn Thor in for the reward money AFTER THOR TELLS HIM TO ESTABLISH HIMSELF ON SAKAAR WHICH HE CAN’T DO AS HE’S BEEN MARKED AS A TRAITOR UNLESS HE DOES THIS (but I digress, I can actually recognize this is somewhat hazy). Thor attaches his personal tracker zap device - a device attached to his neck SO POWERFUL that it ROUTINELY knocks Thor unconscious and is very painful - to Loki, powers it up to the highest setting, throws the controller very far away, and leaves him. Still strapped to the equivalent of a high-intensity tazer that can TAKE DOWN THE GOD OF THUNDER ON A ROUTINE BASIS. He’s LEFT LIKE THAT for potentially a few HOURS.

THAT PISSED ME OFF.

EXCEPT FOR THOSE SCENES I MENTIONED, EVERYTHING ABOUT THESE TWO PISSED ME OFF WHENEVER THEY INTERACTED.

THAT IS NOT A GOOD SIGN MOVIE.

NOT. A. GOOD. SIGN. AT ALL.

I don’t know, I just - this whole movie pissed me off, mainly because I could SEE the potential for what it could have been, what they could have done RIGHT FREAKING THERE. WITHIN GRASP. AND IT WASN’T. TAKEN. AT ALL. The Hulk/Thor scenes were probably the only time I actually LIKED Thor in this movie, and that took up like - 10 minutes? 15, tops? And it - uggghhghgghghhghhg. The mood whiplash was SEVERE here, going from jokey jokey scenes to serious to dark to jokey to dark and it just frustrates me. The mood with Hela should have been the consistent mood throughout the movie, with the exception of Sakaar (Jeff Goldblum, Hulk, and Valkyrie got it RIGHT there, absolutely perfect, and that mood should have stayed consistent on Sakaar). Skurge the Executioner was USELESS. The Warriors Three died as soon as they appeared. The revelation of Hela’s role in Odin’s bloodbath army as he forcefully conquered the Nine Realms was in line with Odin’s characterization as we’ve seen it (even if the daughter thing was... weirdly handled and introduced). Also, Thor’s missing an eye now.

(also what the hell was that dr. strange scene about it added absolutely nothing of worth to the film)

(and what was up with plot device surtur he was useless)

This movie felt a LOT like Suicide Squad in that regard - the mood shifts, the poor editing and storytelling, the awkward characters. Only difference here? Suicide Squad, I actually came to like some of the characters in spite of the movie, and I had no previous connection to them beyond that film at all. Here? Here I have a LONG history of adoring these characters, their history, their interactions, their development - and had to watch, for nearly TWO GODSDAMNED HOURS, as pretty much ALL of it was just THROWN THE FUCK AWAY or disregarded completely.

Ultimately, Thor 3 was a disappointment of epic proportions, which felt like a conglomeration of 3 different movies with radically different themes and moods and humor. The only way I’d buy this movie when it comes out is if they do what they did with DC’s BvS - reveal what it was MEANT to be, instead of this ugly, shallow MESS.

I haven’t been disappointed by a movie like this in a LONG long time. I actually forgot how much it hurts.

#thor ragnarok #thor ragnarok spoilers #spoilers #rant #long story short?#i am EXTREMELY unhappy with this movie #character analysis #critical analysis #if you are a fan of either loki or thor as of the end of thor 2 #you will probably not enjoy this movie #i would honestly recommend reading the wiki over seeing this in theaters #if you want to get up to speed by Avengers 3 #ragnafuck #ragnarok more like ragna-rant

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hazelandglasz · 7 years

Text

This Hating Game - A Klaine Prompt Big Bang Fic

Once again, all my thanks to @prompt-a-klainefic for setting up this event and all the mods for helping set up a schedule

All the kudos to @dashitrandom for creating such a beautiful, inspiring art (and for saving me from having to decide on a title)

All my gratitude to @bluecloudsupabove who agreed to beta my work and made sure that I didn’t make any mistake (if there are any left, it’s all on me!!)

Available on AO3

Inspired by this prompt : Kurt and Blaine couldn't stand each other in high school, maybe one was a jock/cheerleader and the other a nerd/glee clubber. Or they were bitter rivals for competition solos if they were both in glee club. Now they both live in NY and their friends set them up on a blind date, not knowing they went to the same high school

Eleven years ago

God that letterman jacket is heavy.

But you would have to pay Blaine a lot of money to take it off, even in the abnormally hot weather they’re having.

From what he gathered, the red and black piece of clothing is the only shield he can use in this school.

The only thing that will keep the bruises and the hits and the taunts at bay.

So it may be heavy, and polyester, and yes, a little bit smelly, but Blaine will wear it until he can leave Ohio behind in a trail of dust.

“Oi, Anderson.”

Blaine is torn between snickering or rolling his eyes.

He does both for good measure. “Yes, Puckerman?”

The wannabe badboy throws his arm around Blaine’s shoulder and pulls him close to walk down the halls. “You settling down alright?”

“Uh, yeah, yes I suppose.”

“Nobody givin’ you any trouble?”

Blaine looks up at Puck and smiles. “Not since I joined the team.”

Puck smiles back. “Good, good. And how’s it goin’ with the ladies?”

Blaine frowns and shrugs Puck’s arm off him. “Puck, you know--you know I’m gay right?”

“Guess I forgot,” Puck replies with a look of innocence that is far too practiced to be honest. “But you know who else is gay? Finn’s bro.”

“Would you look at that,” Blaine deadpans, even as his cheeks heat up. “What a coincidence.”

“I know right?” Puck is literally beaming now. “So it’s settled.”

“What’s settled?”

“You’ll go on a date with Hummel, and that way, we can triple date with Cheerios.”

“Who says I’m going on a date with him?”

It’s not that Blaine minds going on a date with the Cheerio co-captain--Kurt Hummel is all long, agile limbs and blue eyes--, he’s really protesting for the principle of Puck (and probably Finn) pushing the two out gays together.

“Oh c’m’on bro,” Puck pleads, lightly punching Blaine’s shoulder, “Quinn wants her bro to have a date or she won’t get out with us, and--”

“And you really want to go on a date with her?”

“Yeah.” Puck pauses before wilting in front of Blaine’s glare. “Among other things. Please, Blaine, come on, I’ll owe you.”

“Ah, now you’re talking.”

Blaine doesn’t know why he finally agreed--50% to get Puck off his back, 50% to actually go on a date with Kurt, probably--but he tries to calm himself down.

It’s just a date at Breadstix, with Puck and Finn.

Puck and Quinn are already making googly eyes at each other, and Quinn misplaced one footsie too many for Blaine’s liking.

If Finn could hurry up with Rachel and Kurt, that would be awesome.

Otherwise Blaine is just going to eat the whole basket of breadsticks, no matter how stale they are.

“Sorry we’re late, Kurt couldn’t--”, Finn starts as they finally arrive, but a glare and a well-placed elbow make him stop, “I mean, I couldn’t figure out what to, um, wear?”

Blaine barely holds in a chuckle at that, since Finn is wearing his usual “date outfit” of clean-ish shirt, jeans and letterman jacket.

As a matter of fact, the three of them are wearing their jackets.

Blaine decided to wear a bowtie, so at least he earns point for originality, doesn’t he.

Kurt sits down in front of him, and Blaine has to remind himself how to breathe. The co-captain of the cheerleading squad looks …

Amazing.

Stunning.

Casual, with his fitted jeans, white shirt and black waistcoat, but still classy.

That shiny brooch does wonders.

“You look good,” Blaine tells him with a crooked smile as an ice-breaker.

“I look great,” Kurt replies haughtily before dropping his eyes to his folded hands on the table. “But thanks.”

Blaine knows his cheeks are heating up, especially because Puck keeps on giving him sideway glances.

“You don’t look half bad either, Blaine,” Rachel says maybe a tad too loudly, and Blaine nods in acknowledgment.

Looking up, he sees the quick angry look Kurt throws her way before returning to him, and for a moment they just look into each other’s eyes.

Kurt’s cheeks are dusted pink and he snatches a menu to hide his face.

If anything, Blaine finds it very endearing.

“You do look good.”

Blaine peers up from behind his menu, to see Kurt watching him. “Hm?”

“The bowtie--it’s a nice touch.”

“Thank you.”

“A bit nerdy, sure, but I can appreciate a good accessory.”

Blaine smiles now, smoothing down one of the sides of the bowtie.

But before he can reply--

“Though it is a bit ironic, don’t you think?”

“Ironic?”

“A jock wearing what’s usually a nerd’s outfit?”

Blaine clenches his jaw. “I can’t be part of the football team and a nerd?”

Kurt lets out a snort of laughter, followed by Quinn and Puck. “Um, no, that’s not how school hierarchy works.”

“Too bad.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at Blaine, and if Blaine continues, he’s going to grind his teeth to dust. “What, you want us to believe you are sooo layered,” Kurt teases, slamming the menu down on the table and leaning towards Blaine.

“Um, Kurt, I wouldn’t--,” Puck, of all people, starts, but Blaine holds his hand up.

“No, Puck, let him continue,” he says, sickenly sweet.

Both Puck and Finn know that tone.

It usually precedes a storm of epic proportion--Azimio still remembers it.

“So nice of you to let me speak,” Kurt replies, tone just as sweet.

Their smiles could only be described as tight, and Finn exchanges a look with Rachel, who gives Puck a pointed look, who glances at Quinn for guidance.

“Um, guys, let’s order, I’m star-ving,” she cuts in with a wide smile and a flick of her blonde hair in Kurt’s face.

He blinks and Blaine leans back in his chair. “Excellent idea.”

The date doesn’t improve from there, but at least it doesn’t delve into a full-fleshed fight.

It’s when they all get back to their cars that it takes a turn for the worse.

Namely, when Finn and Puck start kissing Rachel and Quinn like they’re going to war and Kurt and Blaine are left to stand on the side like two awkward fifth wheels.

Blaine tries his best to look at anything but the two kissing couples and the boy next to him.

God knows he went into this date willing to have it ending with Kurt and himself engaging in the same activities, but now that he’s talked to the guy?

Yeah, no thanks.

Kurt sneaks a look at him, trying to catch his attention, and Blaine slowly, as slowly as possible, turns his head towards him with his best look of disdain.

Aka Blaine’s Bitch Please Number 5, copyright pending.

Kurt tilts his head towards the two couples and nods a couple of times, his eyebrows raising, as if suggesting …

“Have you lost your mind, Hummel?” Blaine hisses, recoiling from Kurt. “What exactly in that disaster of an evening gave you the impression that it was going to end in a big tonguefest?”

The kissing soundtrack ends, but Blaine cannot look away from the look of fury and shame that takes over Kurt’s face.

“Like it would be such a burden to try and improve this shitty evening with some make out with me?” Kurt retorts before sticking his nose in the air.

Blaine opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, looking for support from one of the bystanders. Funnily enough, none of the foursome looks his way.

Such an interesting sidewalk.

“A burden, maybe not,” Blaine replies, his temper getting the best of him. “But definitely not a pleasure either. You think this is all a game?”

“A game?”

Kurt’s voice is back to being sickly sweet, and it makes Blaine see red.

“Yeah a game. Are you here only so you can put a notch on your bedpost? Did you kiss the whole football team to prove something to yourself?”

“Blaine--”

“Buddy, you should stop right th--”

“No, you know what,” Blaine continues, unable and more importantly, unwilling, to stop now, because his crush on Kurt and his hopes at a high-school relationship just crashed and burned in the most ugly way, and he’s pissed. “I get that you want to defend him, because he’s your brother, and you want to defend him, because you feel like shit for everything you put him through and, or, because you are attracted to him or something--”

“Hey!”

“He’s got a point, Noah.”

“Hey!!”

“--but I’m done trying to coddle the poor little cheerleader who was bullied and uses his position at the top of the food chain to bully back.”

“Ex-cuse me?!”

Kurt stepped closer at some point during Blaine’s rant, and they’re practically in each other’s face.

“I see you, Hummel,” Blaine says between his teeth, his cheeks burning, “and I see that you entertain yourself by looking down on everybody that you deem beneath you. Guess what--you’re not better than anybody in this school, and you should get used to be average for the rest of your life.”

“How dare--”

“Guys, see you tomorrow at practice. Ladies, goodnight. Kurt … well, see you around the school, I guess.”

On his way back to his car, he can hear Quinn’s whisper echoing across the parking lot.

“Didn’t know he had it in him.”

---

Today

Blaine smoothes down his black shirt and checks his reflection in the mirror across the restaurant.

Unique was adamant that this was the blind date to end all blind dates--nay, the last blind date he would ever need to do, because his date was his soulmate.

Setting aside the fact that maybe, just maybe, Unique had a weird passion for Blaine’s love life, he was willing to try.

The appeal of romance, the thrill of maybe finding the one man who would make his heart race? Yes, Blaine was all for it.

Unique had only agreed to tell him the first name of the Mystery Soulmate, and that he was hot, and that he would wear something red.

And so shall he.

Hence the red pants.

The fact that they showcase his ass like no other pants in his closet is a definite bonus.

His beard is trimmed, for once, Blaine made sure to be on just the right side of hispter.

He cleans his glasses with the hem of his shirt before returning his attention to the door, looking for a tall man with a “perfect sense of fashion, you can’t miss him, Blaine, Kurt really does stand out in a crowd.”

That name made Blaine freeze, but he dismissed that feeling--it’s not such an unusual name, after all, is it.

Many men are called Kurt.

It’s New York after all, maybe Kurt just arrived from Europe and Blaine will get to explore all that Old continent vibe.

There is no reason for Unique’s Kurt to be Kurt Hummel.

God knows it’s water under a bridge, but the memory of his date with the head cheerleader, back when he was just starting at McKinley, still makes his face burn with shame.

How mean did he get, without any real provocation.

So the date was a doozy--that’s not a reason to tear into a guy who was just trying to survive highschool, just like Blaine did.

He had such a bad temper as a teenager--thank God for therapy and boxing (and yoga).

Oh well, Blaine tells himself, water under bridges.

He has grown, they all did. Kurt grew up too--Blaine wonders where he is now …

He can always check Facebook later, if the blind date doesn’t go as wonderfully as Unique predicted.

“I can’t believe this.”

Blaine looks towards the voice that just spoke--high, yet masculine, strangely familiar.

His eyes find a torso, toned and lean, covered in a red leopard sweater, and he looks up and up and--

And frankly, he can’t believe this either.

“Kurt? Hummel?!”

Because there is no doubt in his mind that this man is Kurt E. Hummel, all grown-up and glaring at him.

Something tells Blaine that he should not find this particular detail as hot as it does.

“Small world,” Kurt replies, arms crossed and index tapping his elbow.

Blaine leans back in his chair and reaches for his bowtie. “Indeed.”

They look at each other until Kurt has to move out one waiter’s way, and Blaine takes advantage of the few seconds of relief to compose himself.

“What should we do now?” Kurt says, probably more speaking to himself than asking an actual question.

Blaine doesn’t have to think too hard to decide how to reply. “Care for a do over?”

“Excuse me?”

The tone is still the same, superior and cutting, but Blaine has grown.

He doesn’t let it have the same crumpling effect.

“I think it’s safe to say that we both wish the … date we had, if we can call it that, never happened, correct?”

Kurt tilts his head to the side, and would you look at that jawline, it would feel amazing under my lips …

“I suppose.”

Blaine mentally slaps himself out of his fantasy. “Then I offer a do over. Let’s pretend we don’t know each other.”

Kurt squints at him, as if gauging him. “For real?”

Blaine puts his left hand over his heart and raises his right hand. “Scout’s honor.”

Kurt looks down, trying--and failing--to hide his smile. Then he pulls out the chair and sits down.

Blaine has no idea why he feels so relieved.

“Some things never change,” Kurt says softly. “Once a dork, always a dork.”

Blaine cocks one eyebrow at him and Kurt blushes, raising his hands in front of him. “Sorry, sorry, do over, my bad.”

“Hi,” Blaine replies, offering his hand. “I’m Blaine, you must be Kurt?”

Kurt considers the offer before shaking it. “Indeed. Very nice to meet you.”

Blaine barely manages to contain his beaming smile. “And you. Unique was particularly insistent that this was her best matchmaking.”

Kurt smirks at that, crossing his arms on the table. “Let’s see. So tell me, Blaine, what do you do?”

Blaine smiles at Kurt before answering.

Game on.

Somewhere between the main dish and the dessert, Blaine finds himself in a position he didn’t foresee.

He doesn’t want the evening to end.

Kurt is … the most interesting man Blaine has ever met.

Charming, smart, with a sharp sense of humor--all qualities that Blaine’s latest dates sorely lacked.

He asks Blaine many questions, pays attention to his replies, teases him a little bit about the whole Hipster™ look Blaine has going on, but in a playful way that is antithetic to how his younger self offered criticism.

The sparkle in his eyes in the soft candlelight does help to make this a delightful experience.

One that, as previously stated, Blaine doesn’t want to see ending.

“May I interest you gentlemen in a dessert?” Their waiter asks, and Blaine has a positive reply on the tip of his tongue when Kurt answers, “No, thank you.”

What?!

His dismay must show on his face, more than he’d like. Kurt frowns at him, and then his eyes widen in understanding.

“Oh, no!” He exclaims. “I didn’t mean--tonight has been great, but I know a wonderful place for cheesecake and they’re opened all night, and their soundtrack is more discreet so we could, you know, talk more peacefully, I just--”

Blaine reaches for one of Kurt’s flailing hands. “Thank you,” he says calmly, as calmly as he can that is, what with his heart beating madly against his ribs, rubbing his thumb over Kurt’s knuckles. “I would love that.”

Kurt opens his mouth and closes it, wrapping his fingers around Blaine’s hand. The corners of his mouth lift into a gentle, innocent smile. “I’m glad,” he replies, his voice slightly breathless. “So … cheesecake?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“It’s not in this neighborhood though.”

“I don’t mind, we can use some walking before such a treat.”

“Actually, it’s closer to my place.”

“In Bushwick?”

“Yes.”

Blaine only realizes now that he never let go of Kurt’s hand. There is a strange form of intimacy, in both the gesture and the words being said.

And Kurt hasn’t taken his hand away either.

“I don’t mind.”

Kurt’s eyes widen, and there is a barely perceptible tension in his hold on Blaine’s hand. “You … don’t?”

Blaine leans forward, covering their joined hands with his free one. “Tonight has been great indeed, I can only agree with you,” he says softly, keeping his eyes on Kurt. “And I don’t really want to see ending.”

“Same here,” Kurt replies, his earlier panic receding from his eyes. “We were both assholes as teenagers.”

“Just trying to survive in our own ways.”

“But now that I got to really talk to you,” Kurt continues, his eyes dropping to their joined hands, “I don’t know if I ever will want to say goodbye to you.”

“Who says you have to?”

Kurt’s smile widens until his eyes crinkle adorably. “Who indeed.”

The cheesecake turns into three, and changes into a walk on the banks of the Hudson river to watch the sunrise.

It’s only now, as the sky takes a pink, orange hue, that the conversation between the two men dwindles. The silence it leaves behind is comfortable, and Blaine mentally sends a thank you to Unique’s hunch.

They are perfectly matched, there is no doubt about that.

Kurt yawns before sitting on a bench, and Blaine follows his lead. Kurt keeps one arm over the back of the bench.

It only feels natural for Blaine to lean against it, stretching his legs with a sigh.

“Do you--” Kurt starts, a yawn cutting him short. “Do you have to go to work today?”

Blaine pets his beard, his eyelids closing on their own accord now that they are sitting down. “Nope,” he replies after thinking about it, popping the last sound. “You?”

“Maybe a couple of emails to appease the Powers that look over me,” Kurt replies, once again cut off by a yawn that makes his jaw pop.

(Blaine can hear it popping)

“But otherwise, free as a bird.”

“Wanna come sleep at my place?”

The words are out of Blaine’s mouth before he can rein them in, but for his defense, it’s sunrise and he didn’t get any sleep.

Not that he regrets it--the sleepless night or the offer--but it sounds a bit … a bit too forward.

Something dark appears in Kurt’s eyes. “Took you a decade, but you’re finally interested in a tonguefest, Anderson?”

Blaine can feel the tip of his ears heating up, and he straightens up, away from Kurt’s casual touch. “No! I mean yes!” he exclaims, backpedaling when Kurt’s face loses its teasing look. “I mean--,” he sighs, resting his elbows on his thighs. “You had to bring it up.”

Kurt’s laughter is slightly embarrassed. Blaine chances a look, and sure enough, Kurt’s face is turning a blotchy kind of pink.

Or maybe it’s the reflection of the sunrise on the Hudson.

Either way, it’s adorable.

“I couldn’t resist teasing you,” Kurt admits in a mumble.

“Fair enough.”

“F-fair?”

“Yeah, I deserve it--my teenage self was not a dream.”

Kurt barks out a laugh that ends in an undignified snort. “You and me both.”

“Glad we agree on that.”

“That being said,” Kurt continues, “I … I wouldn’t mind.”

“Mind what?”

The blush on Kurt’s cheeks only intensifies. “Oh God, you’re going to make me say it?”

“Yes please.”

Kurt squints at him before giving him a crooked smile. “Fair, uh?”

“Precisely.”

“Fine--Blaine Anderson, as a redo of our first, quasi non-existent date, would you like to bring this one to a close with a ki--hmph.”

Blaine doesn’t linger, and the kiss realistically lasts less than three seconds, four tops.

But it’s everything.

Soft and delicate, and yet powerful and Earth-shattering, if Blaine is being honest.

Kurt’s fingers barely brush against his cheek as they part, gentle like a fluttering wing. For a moment, Blaine loses himself in Kurt’s eyes, before closing his own and diving in for a second kiss.

As far as second kisses go, this one is to be remembered.

(They’re lucky it’s so early that the only witness to that kiss is a dog walker and her three dogs.)

Eventually, they part for the day, and Kurt is grateful for it.

While a good portion of him wanted nothing more than to take Blaine back to his apartment, get rid of that bowtie and those infuriating red pants, and test for himself the feeling of that hipster beard against his thighs (oh Lord yes), the rest of him still clings to his high school dreams.

Of dating Blaine Devon Anderson.

Of wooing him and being wooed in return.

Of having his romantic fantasy with a dreamboat of a man.

And now that they are adults, the dreamboat part is all too real.

Back then, sure, Kurt can admit that the persona he presented was pretty … abrasive, to say the least. He doesn’t blame Blaine for turning him down--even if he could have chosen other words to signify his disinterest …

Water under bridges, bygones etc., and Kurt is not entirely innocent in this matter.

Even after a decade, even with a beard and a pair of glasses, Kurt would have recognized him in any line-up.

Blaine Fucking Anderson.

Lying in his bed, Kurt allows himself to kick his feet in delight.

His teenage self would be delighted.

The moment Blaine had entered McKinley’s grounds, Kurt’s heart had started making somersaults that would have made Coach Sylvester very proud.

Kurt lost count of the number of times he wished he could have come to his defense when the rest of the school used the smaller boy as a punching ball.

Pushing Finn to offer a spot on the team to Blaine had been the right move, and seeing him in that red jacket only highlighted all the assets Kurt wanted by his side.

And then, that disastrous date night.

Over the years, Kurt has come to peace with it, with his behavior and the fact that while it cost him a potential boyfriend, it was the lightning bulb moment he needed to finally grow from an icy, kind of an asshole of a teenager into a confident and compassionate young man.

Blaine probably doesn’t know the impact he left on Kurt.

A ping from his phone derails Kurt from his walk down memory lane.

From Blaine

Can you sleep

Kurt smiles at his screen.

To Blaine

Nope

Me neither

I keep thinking about you

Is that too much

It’s too much, I’m sorry

Blaine

Honey

Calm down

What

I like that

Honey?

Hmhm

:D My honey bee?

Kurt Hummel I am blushing =^^=

Achievement then

Is it too much if I say that I want another date with you?

Not at all, keep going

May I invite you to come over to my place?

Keep going

And cook for you?

You can cook?

I am full of mysteries ;)

Cheeky

You like it, admit it

I do *///*

Good to know

Is that a yes though?

Cause I’d need to do some shopping (and cleaning)

I don’t mind if your place is a bit messy

Uh-huh, sure

Kurt looks around from his bed--apart from a pile of magazines and some clothes thrown over a chair, he’s no cleaning freak.

Wanna see my place, so you can calm down on the white tornado?

If you don’t mind, I’d rather see your apartment in the flesh when I see it for the first time

The romance of it, the promise hidden behind those words, make Kurt close his eyes for a moment, clutching his phone to his face.

Blaine Anderson, you charmer

… Really?

Not something I’ve been said often

Are you fishing for compliments? ;)

Nope--I just thought that while being romantic, I wasn’t good at it

At romance

Oh you’re good, trust me

I do

I will

Sooo tonight?

Count on me

Blaine texts him his address--Brooklyn too, just a different neighborhood--before bidding him a good day of rest.

With a kissy emoji.

*Holy shit*

Kurt is about to go a second date with a complete nerd.

His nerd.

It is on.

Blaine’s apartment looks like him.

The building is old fashioned but the apartment itself is pretty modern. Lots of light, comfortable furniture and knick-knacks on every shelf--Kurt can guess that some of them disappeared somewhere in Blaine’s room during his “cleaning”.

The kitchen is compact--a lot like the man presently using it, his back to Kurt while he sprinkles little pieces of chili flakes in a pan.

Kurt is sitting at the bar that links the kitchen to Blaine’s living room, and while his eyes cannot, for the life of him, move from Blaine’s ass (what), he lets his brain take unknown roads.

Like the ones that move the furniture around to fit his armchair and his bookshelf.

The ones cataloguing Blaine’s DVDs to see which ones are already in his collection.

The ones where Kurt can easily, so easily (too easily), see himself living here, for short.

It’s scarily exciting--a lot like Kurt pictures sky-diving.

“Ta-daaa.”

Kurt returns his attention to the man who is making all those changes happen in his mind without even knowing it.

On the counter, there are two plates that look absolutely divine. Pasta and shrimp--nothing too complicated, but it’s rich and creamy and it makes Kurt’s mouth water.

Like the man responsible for it, then.

“Linguine with creamy roasted tomatoes and grilled shrimps,” Blaine announces proudly as he grates lemon zest on top of the plate. “Buon appetito.”

Kurt is torn between devouring the dish or the cook himself.

He compromises, pulling Blaine towards him by grabbing his apron to press a kiss to his lips before picking up his fork.

He takes a bite and has to clamp his mouth before a truly pornographic moan comes out of his mouth.

Blaine’s cheeks are still bright pink when he sits down next to Kurt. “You like it?”

Kurt pauses mid-chew to nod enthusiastically. “That’s delicious,” he says, not even caring that he might have some sauce on his cheek.

(He does.)

(He actually looks like he used the sauce as a lipstick.)

(Not that it matters to Blaine.)

“I’m glad,” Blaine says, delicately twirling his fork until the pasta is wrapped around it. Kurt has to admit that Blaine has amazing table manners.

And that he’s jealous of a piece of cutlery when Blaine brings the forkful to his lips.

“What is it?” Blaine asks and Kurt mentally shakes himself from his trance. “Do I have something on my face? Or on my shirt?”

“Just something--” Kurt says, taking the situation to his advantage, cupping Blaine’s cheek and brushing his thumb across it, “--here, and it’s gone, there you go.”

Except that he keeps his hand in place and leans forward to kiss Blaine one more time.

And another.

And another one, that lasts longer.

“Does that dish heat up well?” he whispers against Blaine’s lips.

“I don’t know,” Blaine replies, bowing his head to kiss along the line of Kurt’s jaw. “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

“You read my min-hmph.”

They both stand up, and Kurt reaches to take Blaine’s face in both his hands, guiding his face to make the kiss dirtier.

Blaine presses himself against Kurt, wrapping his arms around his waist.

As delicious as the dish Blaine cooked was, it’s nothing compared to how sweet Kurt finds the sounds Blaine makes in the kiss, little moans and groans that go straight to his cock.

Kurt moves one of his hands away from Blaine’s cheek to slide it down his back and lower.

Blaine breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against Kurt’s chest, a whine building up in his throat.

“God,” he breathes out, “I want you so much.”

“Me too,” Kurt says as he kisses Blaine's cheeks, his nose, the small space between his eyebrows, “so fucking much. Room?”

“Room.”

When they have more time, when the need to touch each other is not as pressing, Kurt will take the time to look at Blaine’s room. He will tease him for the amount of bookshelves, for the collection of cameras littering every available space.

He will pose for the very same cameras when Blaine aims them at him.

But that’s for the future to see, because for now, Kurt couldn’t care less if the room was bare, as long as there was still a bed, a bottle of lube and a box of condoms.

Kurt would be hard pressed to tell who took off what from whom, but the end result is to his satisfaction, the moment he lands on the bed and Blaine climbs on top of him without any layer of clothing between them.

“Do you--what do--how do you,” Blaine says, his hands roaming up and down Kurt’s body.

Kurt looks up at him and smiles crookedly. “I have to say that I like the view.”

The blush on Blaine’s cheeks spreads to his neck and chest. Kurt reaches up to follow its path, caressing Blaine’s nipples in the process.

Blaine hisses, arching his body towards the touch. “Humph.”

“Ride me, honey,” Kurt says huskily, resting his hands on Blaine’s hips.

Blaine’s eyes turn even darker, a ring of hazel barely visible now in the soft light of his bedside lamp. “Great idea.”

“Mine usually are.”

“We’ll see.”

Kurt cocks one eyebrow at Blaine as he rolls a condom down his length. “Is that a challenge, Anderson?”

Blaine straightens up, rising to his knees to get his lube-covered fingers to his ass. “You bet, Hummel.”

A laugh bubbles up in Kurt’s throat, and he bucks up his hips to brush his cock to Blaine’s ass cheeks. “Hurry up, honey.”

“So impatient,” Blaine says softly, eyes closed as he fingers himself opened. “How long have you been waiting for this?”

“Probably as long as you have.”

“Hmmmm, probably.”

“Aren’t you ready?”

“Hmmm feels good, gimme a minute.”

Kurt looks at Blaine, the way he undulates his body, fucking himself above him, and something snaps.

So he reaches for the option standing proudly in front of him. Wrapping his fingers around Blaine’s hard cock, Kurt strokes it a couple of times before cupping his balls.

Blaine’s eyes fly open and his hands are on Kurt’s shoulders in a flash, pressing him down onto the mattress while he lowers himself down Kurt’s cock.

They both let out a noise of contentment as they finally get what they wanted, and Kurt returns his hands to Blaine’s hips. His thumbs draws circles onto the V drawn here, leading to Blaine’s nest of pubic hair.

“See,” he says, his breath already coming out in pants as Blaine moves on top of him. “A great idea.”

“Hm-hmm.”

“Blaine …”

“Hm?”

“Look at me, honey,” Kurt says softly.

Blaine blinks his eyes open again, and he slows down as a soft smile stretches his lips.

“You’re amazing.”

Blaine’s smile widens.

“I bet I can make you come before I do.”

The smile turns predatory, and Blaine rises to his knees again, keeping only the tip of Kurt’s cock inside of him before dropping without a warning.

The pace is relentless, and Kurt almost regrets turning it into yet another challenge.

Almost.

Because it’s so good, and once he manages to get over the initial shock, he gives back as good as Blaine gives.

At some point, Blaine removes his hands from Kurt’s shoulders, steadying himself with his palms flat against Kurt’s chest.

Kurt can feel his orgasm building up, and while Blaine’s movements are getting less precise, he can’t tell how close he is.

Desperate orgasm times call for desperate pleasuring measures.

Kurt sits up, wrapping one arm around Blaine’s torso while his other hand goes back to pumping Blaine’s cock.

Blaine is sitting flushed in his lap now, and the kiss they exchange is more an exchange of moans and panted breath than an actual kiss.

“I’m … close,” Kurt says, his hand resting on the swell of Blaine’s ass.

“Me … too--oh God Kurt yes just like that, I’m going to--I …”

With a desperate shouted whine, Blaine comes all over Kurt’s fingers, spurts of come landing on both their chests.

The sounds, the sensation, the whole build-up is enough to drive Kurt over the crest of his pleasure, and he smothers his shout in Blaine’s neck as he fills up the condom.

They stay in their position for a minute (or a lifetime, it’s a tomahto-tomayto kind of deal as far as Kurt is concerned) before Blaine pulls away, just enough to look Kurt in the eyes.

Sweat covers his face and beard, and stray curls are stuck to his forehead. His cheeks are flushed, and the sperm on his chest is starting to congeal.

He has never looked more perfect in Kurt’s eyes.

“I guess you won,” Blaine says, voice hoarse.

“Uh?”

“I came first.”

“Ah, yeah,” Kurt huffs a laugh. “I guess I did win.”

Blaine hums, rolling off of Kurt to lay down on his back on the bed.

Kurt rolls the other way, planning on going to the bathroom and find something to clean them both up.

As he stands up, Blaine lets out a small laugh.

“What is it?”

“I was just thinking how things have changed between us.”

“Hm?”

“From hating each other to--”