#trevor says he's been the stage manager for about 5 years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bringbackthebastard · 3 years

Text

Bring Back the Bastard Daily Prompts

Hello, folks! I'm posting these two weeks before we begin our fest, on September 1st, to give folks some inspiration on what to write each day as we celebrate Severus Snape's pettiest, most dastardly moments. I specifically picked out moments Snaters always harp on, that Snapedom personally enjoys--from any moment with Trevor to bitching at Lupin at Sirius, to the moments that Lily turns away and Dumbledore's face flashes with disgust--sure, he's a bastard, but he's our bastard, and that's what we like about him. You don't want him? Good. We'll keep him. Here are 30 scene prompts for 30 days--it's a long list, pulled chronologically from all seven books, but I found that it reminded me of everything I love about this character. The moments where he's called deranged, the moments where he slips into all-caps, the ugliest moments of the soul. Hope yall enjoy. Excited to kick off the fest starting September 1st, and absolutely excited to see what Snapedom will do. Let's Bring Back the Bastard! The prompts are below the readmore.

Day 1: The Scar Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacheer with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes--and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead. "Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head. "What is it?" asked Percy. "N-nothing." The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look--a felling that he didn't like Harry at all. "Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Percy. "Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you? No wonder he's looking so nervous, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to--everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."

Day 2: Bad Impressions Snape, like Flitwick, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harry's name. "Ah, yes," he said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new--celebrity."

Day 3: Potions Class "Potter!" said Snape suddenly "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?" Powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of what? Harry glanced at Ron, who looked as stumped as he was; Hermione's hand shot into the air. "I don't know, sir," said Harry. Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Tut, tut--fame clearly isn't everything."

Day 4: A Horrible Sight Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages. "Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?" Harry tried to shut the door quietly, but-- "POTTER!" Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hide his leg. Harry gulped. "I just wondered if I could have my book back." "GET OUT! OUT!"

Day 5: Maybe He's Ill "Hang on..." Harry muttered to Ron. "There's an empty chair at the staff table...Where's Snape?" Professor Severus Snape was Harry's least favorite teacher. Harry also happened to be Snape's least favorite student. Cruel, sarcastic, and disliked by everybody except the students from his own House (Slytherin), Snape taught Potions. "Maybe he's ill!" said Ron hopefully. "Maybe he's left," said Harry, "because he missed out on the Defense Against the Dark Arts job again!" "Or he might have been sacked!" said Ron enthusiastically. "I mean, everyone hates him--" "Or maybe," said a very cold voice right behind them, "he's waiting to hear why you two didn't arrive on the school train."

Day 6: Slytherin Takes the Field "But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "But I booked it!" "Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. 'I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker.'"

Day 7: No Quidditch For You! "I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," he said. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest." "Really, Severus," said Professor McGonagall sharply, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong." Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he were being X-rayed. "Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said firmly. Snape looked furious.

Day 8: Expelliarmus! "Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry--you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!" "Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" Ron muttered in Harry's ear. Snape's upper lip was curling. Harry wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at *him* like that he'd have been running as fast as he could in the opposite direction. Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them. "As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our fist spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course." "I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured, watching Snape baring his teeth. "One--two--three--" Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet. He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Day 9: Only Bite Him A Little Bit, Please "Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it..."

Day 10: Poisoning Trevor The end of the lesson in sight, Snape strode over to Neville, who was cowering by his cauldron. "Everyone gather 'round," said Snape, his black eyes glittering, "and watch what happens to Longbottom's toad. If he has managed to produce a Shrinking Solution, it will shrink to a tadpole. If, as I don't doubt, he has done it wrong, his toad is likely to be poisoned." The Gryffindors watched fearfully. The Slytherins looked excited. Snape picked up Trevor the toad in his left hand and dipped a small spoon into Neville's potion, which was now green. He trickled a few drops down Trevor's throat. There was a moment of hushed silence, in which Trevor gulped; then there was a small op, and Trevor the tadpole was wriggling in Snape's palm. The Gryffindors burst into applause. Snape, looking sour, pulled a small bottle from the pocket of his robe, poured a few drops on top of Trevor, and he reappeared suddenly, fully grown. "Five points from Gryffindor," said Snape, which wiped smiles from every face. "I told you not to help him, Miss Granger. Class dismissed."

Day 11: Insufferable Know-It-All Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except Hermione, whose hand, as it so often did, had shot straight into the air. "Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione. His twisted smile was back. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between--" "We told you," said Parvati suddenly, "we haven't got as far as werewolves yet, we're still on--" "Silence!" snarled Snape. "Well, well, well, I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who wouldn't even recognize a werewolf when they saw one. I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are..." "Please, sir," said Hermione, whose hand was still in the air, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf--" "That is the second time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," said Snape coolly. "Fire more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Day 12: Your Saintly Father "I would hate for you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter," he said, a terrible grin twisting his face. "Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you--your saintly father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father hadn't gotten cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts." Snape's uneven, yellowish teeth were bared.

Day 13: Don't Talk About What You Don't Understand "KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL!" Snape shouted, looking suddenly quite deranged. "DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" A few sparks shot out of the end o his wand, which was still pointed at Black's face. Hermione fell silent. "Vengeance is very sweet," Snape breathed at Black. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you..." "The joke's on you again, Severus," Black snarled. "As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle" --he jerked his head at Ron-- "I'll come quietly...." "Up to the castle?" said Snape silkily. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black...pleased enough to give you a little Kiss, I daresay...."

Day 14: A Great Disappointment "He must have Disapparated, Severus. We should have let somebody in the room with him. When this gets out--" "HE DIDN'T DISAPPARATE!" Snape roared, now very close at hand. "YOU CAN'T APPARATE *OR* DISAPPARATE INSIDE THIS CASTLE! THIS--HAS--SOMETHING--TO--DO--WITH--POTTER!" "Severus--be reasonable--Harry has been locked up--" BAM. The door of the hospital wing burst open. Fudge, Snape, and Dumbledore came striding into the ward. Dumbledore alone looked calm. Indeed, he looked as though he was quite enjoying himself. Fudge appeared angry. But Snape was beside himself. "OUT WITH IT, POTTER!" he bellowed. "WHAT DID YOU DO?" "Professor Snape!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey. "Control yourself!" "See here, Snape, be reasonable," said Fudge. "This door's been locked, we just saw--" "THEY HELPED HIM ESCAPE, I KNOW IT!" Snape howled, pointing at Harry and Hermione. His face was twisted; spit was flying from his mouth. "Calm down, man!" Fudge barked. "You're talking nonsense!" "YOU DON'T KNOW POTTER!" shrieked Snape. "HE DID IT, I KNOW HE DID IT--" "That will do, Severus," said Dumbledore quietly. "Think about what you are saying. This door has been locked since I left the war ten minutes ago. Madam Pomfrey, have these students left their beds?" "Of course not!" said Madam Pomfrey, bristling. "I would have heard them!" "Well, there you have it, Severus," said Dumbledore calmly. "Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further." Snape stood there, seething, staring from Fudge, who looked thoroughly shocked at his behavior, to Dumbledore, whose eyes were twinkling behind his glasses. Snape whirled about, robes swishing behind him, and stormed out of the ward. "Fellow seems quite unbalanced," said Fudge, staring after him. "I'd watch out for him if I were you, Dumbledore." "Oh, he's not unbalanced," said Dumbledore quietly. "He's just suffered a severe disappointment."

Day 15: Haven't You Heard? "Blimey, haven' yeh heard?" said Hagrid, his smile fading a little. He lowered his voice, even though there was nobody in sight. "Er--Snape told all the Slytherins this mornin'....Thought everyone'd know by now...Professor Lupin's a werewolf, see. An' he was loose on the grounds las' night...He's packin' now, o' course."

Day 16: I See No Difference "And what is all this noise about?" said a soft, deadly voice. Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explanations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain." "Potter attacked me, sir--" "We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted. "--and he hit Goyle--look--" Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi. "Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly. "Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!" He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth--she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back. Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Day 17: The Dark Mark Snape strode forward, past Dumbledore, pulling up the left sleeve of his robes as he went. He struck out his forearm and showed it to Fudge, who recoiled. "There," said Snape harshly. "There. The Dark Mark. It is not as clear as it was an hour or so ago, when it burned black, but you can still see it. Every Death Eater had the sign burned into him by the Dark Lord. It was a means of distinguishing one another, and his means of summoning us to him. When he touched the Mark of any Death Eater, we were to Disapparate, and Apparate, instantly, at his side. This Mark has been growing clearer all year. Karkaroff's too. Why do you think Karkaroff fled tonight? We both felt the Mark burn. We both knew he had returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance. He betrayed too many of his fellow Death Eater to be sure of a welcome back into the fold."

Day 18: If You Are Ready...If You Are Prepared... "Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready...if you are prepared..." "I am," said Snape. He looked slightly paler than usual, and his cold, black eyes glittered strangely. "Then good luck," said Dumbledore, and he watched, with a trace of apprehension on his face, as Snape swept wordlessly after Sirius.

Day 19: Obviously "Now...how long have you been teaching at Hogwarts?" she asked, her quill poised over her clipboard. "Fourteen years," Snape replied. His expression was unfathomable. His eyes on Snape, Harry added a few drops to his potion; it hissed menacingly and turned from turquoise to orange. "You applied first for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, I believe?" Professor Umbridge asked Snape. "Yes," said Snape quietly. "But you were unsuccessful?" Snape's lip curled. "Obviously." Professor Umbridge scribbled on her clipboard. "And you have applied regularly for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post since you first joined the school, I believe?" "Yes," said Snape quietly, barely moving his lips. He looked very angry. "Do you have any idea why Dumbledore has consistently refused to appoint you?" asked Umbridge. "I suggest you ask him," said Snape jerkily. "Oh I shall," said Professor Umbridge with a sweet smile. "I suppose this is relevant?" Snape asked, his black eyes narrowed. "Oh yes," said Professor Umbridge. "Yes, the Ministry wants a thorough understanding of teachers'--er--backgrounds...." She turned away, walked over to Pansy Parkinson, and began questioning her about the lessons. Snape looked around at Harry and their eyes met for a second. Harry hastily dropped his gaze to his potion, which was now congealing foully and giving off a strong smell of burned rubber. "No marks again, then, Potter," said Snape maliciously, emptying Harry's cauldron with a wave of his wand. "You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?"

Day 20: Very Like His Father "How touching," Snape sneered. "But surely you have noticed that Potter is very like his father?" Yes, I have," said Sirius proudly. "Well then, you'll know he's so arrogant that criticism simply bounces off him," Snape said sleekly. Sirius pushed his chair roughly aside and strode around the table toward Snape, pulling out his wand as he went; Snape whipped out his own. They were squaring up to each other, Sirius looking livid, Snape calculating, his eyes darting from Sirius' wand-tip to his face. "Sirius!" said Harry loudly, but Sirius appeared not to hear him. "I've warned you, Snivellus," said Sirius, his face barely a foot from Snape's, "I don't care if Dumbledore thinks you've reformed, I know better." "Oh, but why don't you tell him so?" whispered Snape. "Or are you afraid he might not take the advice of a man who has been hiding inside his mother's house for six months very seriously?" "Tell me, how is Lucius Malfoy these days? I expect he's delighted his lapdog's working at Hogwarts, isn't he?" "Speaking of dogs," said Snape softly, "did you know that Lucius Malfoy recognized you last time you risked a little jaunt outside? Clever idea, Black, getting yourself seen on a safe station platform...gave you a cast-iron excuse not to leave your hidey-hole in future, didn't it?" Sirius raised his wand. "NO!" Harry yelled, vaulting over the table and trying to get in between them, "Sirius, don't--" "Are you calling me a coward?" roared Sirius, trying to push Harry out of the way, but Harry would not budge. "Why, yes, I suppose I am," said Snape.

Day 21: Wormtail's Whine "We...we are alone, aren't we?" Narcissa asked quietly. "Yes, of course. Well, Wormtail's here, but we're not counting vermin, are we?" He pointed his wand at the wall of books behind him and with a bang, a hidden door flew open, revealing a narrow staircase upon which a small man stood frozen. "As you have clearly realized, Wormtail, we have guests," said Snape lazily. The man crept, hunchbacked, down the last few steps and moved into the room. He had small, watery eyes, a pointed nose, and wore an unpleasant simper. His left hand was caressing his right, which looked as though it was encased in a bright silver glove. "Narcissa!" he said, in a squeaky voice. "And Bellatrix! How charming--" "Wormtail will get us drinks, if you'd like them," said Snape. "And then he will return to his bedroom." Wormtail winced as though Snape had thrown something at him. "I am not your servant!" he squeaked, avoiding Snape's eyes. "Really? I was under the impression that the Dark Lord placed you here to assist me." "To assist, yes--but not to make you drinks and--clean your house!" "I had no idea, Wormtail, that you were craving more dangerous assignments," said Snape silkily. "This can be easily arranged: I shall speak to the Dark Lord--" "I can speak to him if I want to!" "Of course you can," said Snape, sneering. "But in the meantime, bring us drinks. Some of the elf-made wine will do."

Day 22: A Loving Caress Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view. "The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible." Harry stared at Snape. It was surely one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, another to speak of them, as Snape was doing, with a loving caress in his voice? "Your defenses," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" --he indicated a few of them as he swept past-- "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" --he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony-- "feel the Dementor's Kiss" --a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall-- "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" --a bloody mass upon the ground.

Day 23: Better People "What does it matter?" said Malfoy. "Defense Against the Dark Arts--it's all just a joke, isn't it, an act? Like an of us need protecting against the Dark Arts--" "It is an act that is crucial to success, Draco!" said Snape. "Where do you think I would have been all these years, if I had not known how to act? Now listen to me! You are being incautious, wandering around at night, getting yourself caught, and if you are placing your reliance in assistants like Crabbe and Goyle--" "They're not the only ones, I've got other people on my side, better people!" "Then why not confide in me, and I can--" "I know what you're up to! You want to steal my glory!" There was another pause, then Snape said coldly, "You are speaking like a child. I quite understand that your father's capture and imprisonment has upset you, but--"

Day 24: Revulsion and Hatred Etched on His Face "Severus..." The sound frightened Harry beyond anything he had experienced all evening. For the first time, Dumbledore was pleading. Snape said nothing, but walked forward and pushed Malfoy roughly out of the way. The three Death Eaters fell back without a word. Even the werewolf seemed cowed. Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face. "Severus...please..." Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore. "Avada Kedavra!"

Day 25: Don't Call Me Coward Mustering all his powers of concentration, Harry thought, Levi-- "No, Potter!" screamed Snape. There was a loud BANG and Harry was soaring backward, hitting the ground hard again, and this time his wand flew out of his hand. He could hear Hagrid yelling and Fang howling as Snape closed in and looked down on him where he lay, wandless and defenseless as Dumbledore had been. Snape's pale face, illuminated by the flaming cabin, was suffused with hatred just as it had been before he had cursed Dumbledore. "You dare use my own spells against me, Potter? It was I who invented them--I, the Half-Blood Prince! And you'd turn my inventions on me, like your filthy father, woudl you? I don't think so...no!" Harry had dived for his wand; Snape shot a hex at it and it flew feet away into the darkness and out of sight. "Kill me then," panted Harry, who felt no fear at all, but only rage and contempt. "Kill me like you killed him, you coward--" "DON'T--" screamed Snape, and his face was suddenly deranged, inhuman, as though he was in as much pain as the yelping, howling dog stuck in the burning house behind them-- "CALL ME COWARD!"

Day 26: The Guest Voldemort raised Lucius Malfoy's wand, pointed it directly at the slowing revolving figure suspended over the table, and gave it a tiny flick. The figure came to life with a groan and began to struggle against invisible bonds. "Do you recognize our guest, Severus?" asked Voldemort. Snape raised his eyes to the upside-down face. All of the Death Eaters were looking up at the captive now, as thought they had been given permission to show curiosity. As she revolved to face the firelight, the woman said in a cracked and terrified voice, "Severus! Help me!" "Ah, yes," said Snape as the prisoner turned slowly away again.

Day 27: I Regret It "All this long night, when I am on the brink of victory, I have sat here," said Voldemort, his voice barely louder than a whisper, "wondering, wondering why the Elder Wand refuses to be what it ought to be, refuses to perform as legend says it must perform for its rightful owner...and I think I have the answer." Snape did not speak. "Perhaps you already know it? You are a clever man, after all, Severus. You have been a good and faithful servant, and I regret what must happen." "My Lord--" "The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly, Severus, because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last owner. You killed Albus Dumbledore. While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot be truly mine." "My Lord!" Snape protested, raising his wand. "It cannot be any other way," said Voldemort. "I must master the wand, Severus. Master the wand, and I master Potter at last." And Voldemort swiped the air with the Elder Wand. It did nothing to Snape, who for a split second seemed to think he had been reprieved: But then Voldemort's intention became clear. The snake's cage was rolling through the air, and before Snape could do anything more than yell, it had encased him, head and shoulders, and Voldemort spoke in Parseltongue. "Kill." There was a terrible scream. Harry saw Snape's face losing the little color it had left; it whitened as his black eyes widened, as the snake's fangs pierced his neck, as he failed to push the enchanted cage off himself, as his knees gave way and he fell to the floor. "I regret it," said Voldemort coldly.

Day 28: You Hurt Her! "Tuney!" said Lily, surprise and welcome in her voice, but Snape had jumped to his feet. "Who's spying now?" he shouted. "What d'you want?" Petunia was breathless, alarmed at being caught. Harry could see her struggling for something hurtful to say. "What is that you're wearing, anyway?" she said, pointing at Snape's chest. "Your mum's blouse?" There was a *crack*. A branch over Petunia's head had fallen. Lily screamed: The branch caught Petunia on the shoulder, and she staggered backward and burst into tears. "Tuney!" But Petunia was running away. Lily rounded on Snape. "Did you make it happen?" "No." He looked both defiant and scared. "You did!" She was backing away from him. "You *did*! You hurt her!" "No--no I didn't!" But the lie did not convince Lily: After one last burning look, she ran from the little thicket, off after her sister, and Snape looked miserable and confused....

Day 29: Save Your Breath "I'm sorry." "I'm not interested." "I'm sorry!" "Save your breath." It was nighttime. Lily, who was wearing a dressing gown, stood with her arms folded in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, at the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. "I only came out because Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here." "I was. I would have done. I never meant to call you Mudblood, it just--" "Slipped out?" There was no pity in Lily's voice. "It's too late. I've made excuses for you for years. None of my friends can understand why I even talk to you. You and your precious little Death Eater friends--you see, you don't even deny it! You don't even deny that's what you're all aiming to be! You can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?" He opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking. "I can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine." "No--listen, I didn't mean--" "--to call me Mudblood? But you call everyone of my birth Mudblood, Severus. Why should I any different?" He struggled on the verge of speech, but with a contemptuous look she turned and climbed back through the portrait hole....

Day 30: Anything "If she means so much to you," said Dumbledore, "surely Lord Voldemort will spare her? Could you not ask for the mother, in exchange for the son?" "I have--I have asked him--" "You disgust me," said Dumbledore, and Harry had never heard so much contempt in his voice. Snape seemed to drink a little. "You do not care, then, about the deaths of her husband and child? They can die, as long as you have what you want?" Snape said nothing, but merely looked up at Dumbledore. "Hide them all, then," he croaked. "Keep her--them--safe. Please." "And what will you give me in return, Severus?" "In--in return?" Snape gaped at Dumbledore, and Harry expected him to protest, but after a long moment he said, "Anything."

#severus snape #snape fest #bring back the bastard fest 2021 #bring back the bastard fest #bring back the bastard #bring back the bastard prompts #harry potter fandom fest #hp fandom #snapedom #pro-snape #snapelove #prompts #daily prompts #snape prompts

157 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 3 years

Note

Hey steph!! This might be a specific ask but could u like recommend me some fic thats like slow burn, unresolved sexual tension, and some bottomlock. And please please please let it be long so that it hits the sweet spot of satisfying your fic needs but also not stupidly long. Also I love your blog

Hi Lovely!!

AHHHH I’m glad you enjoy!! I try my best, LOL.

AHH I’ve SO MANY slow burn fics, it’s ridiculous, and I do have separate lists for bottomlock, so I can direct you to those.... BUT I DON’T HAVE A LIST FOR MY U.S.T. FICS YES. So can I do that??? Please??? ANY EXCUSE TO START A NEW LIST :| Hee hee. Forgive me???

AND as per usual, all my fics are in word-count order, so you can start at the bottom and work your way up, hee hee. CHEERS!

As usual, add your own, friends!!

First, here’s the lists you asked for:

Love Confessions / Slow Burn / Dev. Rel. (Fluff Version)

Falling In Love / Slow Burn / Dev. Rel. || [MOBILE POST] (April 2019)

Platonics & Domestics Pt 2 / Hugs, Cuddles & Kisses Pt. 3 / Tooth-Rotting Fluff Pt. 5 / Love Confessions, Slow Burn & Dev. Rel. Pt. 2 / Established Relationship Pt. 3

Slow Burn / Dev. Rel. / Falling in Love Pt. 3 (Nov. 2019)

Slow Burn / Dev Rel. Pt. 4 (Apr 2020)

Bottomlock (April 2019)

Bottomlock Pt 2

And now, check out my UST/URT list :)

UNRESOLVED SEXUAL / ROMANTIC TENSION

The Other Shoe by thewaitwasworthitlove - (NR, 1,053 w., 1 Ch. || Pining Sherlock, Angst, URT, Post-TSo3) - Sherlock realizes how deep in love he has fallen for John. Only Sherlock Holmes would manage to be more shattered than crystal dropped on concrete.

Clarity by socomessnow (thoughtfulwishing) (NR, 1,283 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Tarmac Scene, Stream of Consciousness, URT, First Person Present Tense, Implied/Referenced Drug Use) - During-and-post-HLV piece tracking Sherlock’s thought process from his phone call with Mycroft to his return to the airfield. Part 1 of Rifts

Untouchable by greengrapegaze (T, 1,368 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-S3, UST/URT, Oblivious John, Lonely Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Emotional Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – “He never would. Petty, childish, immature-bitter. Jealous. She had all that he wanted. All he could never have.” Part 1 of Steps to a Bittersweet Symphony

Love Hurts by Grac3 (T, 2,215 w., 1 Ch. || Magical Realism, Pining Sherlock, One-Sided Pining / URT, Sherlock / John Whump, Angst, Ambiguous Ending) – In a world where someone's physical injuries manifest themselves on the person who is in love with them, John didn't think that there would ever be anyone who was willing to risk falling in love with him - until he got shot on a case, and it didn't hurt. Unrequited Johnlock.

The Dance Lesson by bittergreens (G, 4,596 w., 1 Ch. || TSo3 Missing Scene, Dancing, Pining Sherlock, URT/UST, Romance, Angst, POV John) – Sherlock teaches John to dip. Part 1 of Goodnight, Vienna

There's Something Living in These Lines by teahigh (orphan_account) (M, 4,676 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, Love Letters, Angst, Mutual Pining, UST / URT, Dirty Talk) – Two men, complete opposites in almost every way, who speak only in letters and pages torn from books.

You Can't Always Get What You Want by hubblegleeflower (E, 4,804 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Sexual Tension, UST / RST, First Time) – John wants. He always has, but now that he's living with Sherlock again, it's all he can do to hold it back. And Sherlock isn't helping...

Wasted Hours by songlin (E, 4,973 w., 1 Ch. || Omegaverse || O!John/A!Sherlock, Pining, UST, Angst & Porn) – John is respectful. John keeps his distance. He doesn’t look at Sherlock when Sherlock decides trousers are for dull people. He doesn’t breathe in and savor it when Sherlock flings himself onto the couch first thing in the morning, wafting alpha scent, dressing gown settling around him in a cloud of blue silk. He doesn’t linger when he’s piecing Sherlock back together after a fight, even though he’s half-dressed and beautiful and right there. He can ignore it. He can control it.

Captain John Watson, Genetics, and Other Crazy Things by cyerus (M, 5,581 w., 1 Ch. || Torchwood Crossover || Humour / Crack, Jealous Sherlock, Sexual Magnet John, Captain John, UST / RST, Three Continents Watson) – The explanation for John "Three Continents" Watson? Jack Harkness is his father. Sherlock doesn't know whether he's going to die from jealousy or sexual frustration first.

No Light, No Light (in your bright blue eyes) by orphan_account (G, 5,915 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Pining, Songfic, Mutual Unrequited Love, Unresolved Tension, UST/URT) – Relates to both Sherlock's and John's feelings for each other and highlights select moments of hurt and inner turmoil starting from right before the fall all the way to HLV.

Drawstring by May_Shepard (E, 7,412 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3/TAB, Friends to Lovers, UST/RST, Fluff and Smut, Post-TAB, John POV, Sherlock’s Pyjamas, Rimming, Wanking) – John is bothered by Sherlock’s slowly-falling jim-jams… as in hot and bothered and he is trying to deal with a sexy dishevelled Sherlock while also keeping his pining in check.

High and Tight, Soft and Loose by cwb (E, 7,429 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous John, Miscommunications / Misunderstandings, First Kiss / Time, BAMF John, Insecure Sherlock, Clueless Sherlock, POV John, Embarrassed John, Adorable Sherlock, Junk Size, UST / RST) – John pressed the knuckle of his index finger against his mouth and sighed. “So, you're coiled like a spring and ready to be ... sprung?” “If you want to be pedestrian about it, yes.” “Like I said, you should do something about that.” “And like I said, pedestrian. What would you have me do? Take up jogging? Yoga? Oh! Unless you mean –” “I don't mean anything. Let’s drop it.”

Alone On the Water by Mad_Lori (G, 7,725 w., 1 Ch. || MCD, UST/URT, Angst, Euthanasia, Love Confessions) – Sherlock Holmes never expected to live a long life, but he never imagined that it would end like this.

All the Times Something ALMOST Happened by allonsys_girl (T, 9,049 w., 6 Ch. || POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Canon Compliant, Angst, Friendship/Love, UST) – John and Sherlock dancing around what they dance around in canon.

Someone I Love by hudders-and-hiddles (M, 10,002 w., 2 Ch. || Canon Compliant, HLV-Filler Fic, Pre-Slash, Jealous John, PIning Sherlock, Angst & Fluff, UST/URT, Dog Tags) – John gets married and Sherlock finds comfort in wearing John's identity tags around his wrist.

Ravish Me by amalnahurriyeh (E, 10,025 w., 1 Ch. || UST / RST, Makeup / Lipstick, Sympathetic Sally, Experiments, Pining John, First Kiss, Face Fucking / BJ’s, Cuddling) – Sherlock is experimenting with patterns of wear on lipstick in daily encounters. John is going to go insane.

Their Great Reward by BeautifulFiction (T, 10,095 w., 1 Ch. || UST, First Kiss, Fluff) – Boxing day, in John's opinions, is the worst day of the year. Christmas is over, the tree is wilting and stripped of gifts, and there's a week of dead-time until the clean slate of the new year. However the combination of a blizzard, a power-cut and Sherlock might just make it a day to remember.

The Five Stages of Mourning, Plus One by SunnyRea (T, 10,557 w., 1 Ch. || MCD, Pining / Grieving Sherlock, URT, Heavy Angst, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Drug Use, Graphic Death, Depression, Unhappy Ending) – Sherlock did not want this, did not want another stalemate with John in the middle, a gun in Jim's hand. This cannot have happened without a sign. There has to be something he missed anything which said today is the day I kill for real.

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder by cypress_tree (E, 10,669 w., 1 Ch. || UST/RST, For an Experiment) – John helps Sherlock with an experiment: for an entire month, they are not allowed to touch each other and must remain at least one metre apart at all times.

I'm content as we are (but) by inqui (The_Circus) (E, 13,086 w., 1 Ch. || Jealous John, UST/RST, Pining, Victor Trevor, Minor Whump, First Kiss / Time, Misunderstandings) – In which John Watson sees something unusual, becomes jealous, and makes too much of a small thing as an old friend of Sherlock's shows up in the middle of a case.

Say For Me, Love by MirabileLectu (T, 13,147 w., 1 Ch. || UST, First Kiss, Drama, Pining John, Victor Trevor) – If you had asked John this morning what the result of his quiet afternoon at home would be, discovering a truth about Sherlock's past startling enough to shift the foundations of their friendship would not have been his first guess. So naturally, that was what was bound to happen.

Barricade by stitchy (M, 14,127 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fix It, Friends to Lovers, Angst, Happy Ending, UST, Mary’s Not Nice, First Time, Pining Sherlock, Time Skip Filler, Drunkenness) – Sherlock has been struggling to keep his feelings at bay for everyone's sake. Part 1 of Barricade

Second Chance by SilentAuror (E, 15,816 w., 1 Ch. || Post-HLV, Post-Divorce, Friends to Lovers, UST, Romance) – Now that John's divorce has gone through and the dust is settling, Sherlock thinks that he would very much like to see if there is any possibility of moving their friendship in another direction. The only thing is, he has no idea how to go about doing that...

Anytime by SilentAuror (E, 17,995 w., 1 Ch. || UST, Porn With Feels, POV Sherlock, Romance, UST/URT, Happy Ending, Drunken Endeavours) – Sherlock blinks and attempts to focus. There is a little too much vodka in his veins at the moment and it’s having an unfortunate effect on his brain and retinas both. There are two Johns sitting across from him, and both of them are frowning at him. “You’re drunk,” the Johns tell him. Sherlock blinks some more. “Says the man with Mrs Hudson’s doily on his head.”

John Watson doesn't have a Boyfriend by naughtyspirit (E, 18,932 w., 7 Ch. || UST / URT, Fluff & Smut, Voyeurism, Masturbation) – John's date has gone very well. Sherlock requires tea. John wishes he hadn't resolved that their relationship was strictly hands off and isn't about to address it. Unless he has to. Smut, fluff and shower time for a naked John Watson.

For you, there's only me by shock_blanket (E, 19,557 w., 7 Ch. || Jealous Idiots, Virgin Sherlock, UST/RST, Pining, Miscommunication, First Kiss / Time, Insecure Sherlock, Masturbation) – Sherlock realizes he has fallen in love with John, but believes he is unlovable. Cue lots of pining and jealousy on Sherlock's part, followed by our favorite cuddly marksman making it all better. Because for Sherlock, there's only John.

Love Is by SilentAuror (E, 21,508 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, UST / URT, Post HLV, Romance) – At Mrs Hudson’s urging, Sherlock finally decides to tell John how he feels about him. Part 1 of Love Is

Brief Conversations with the Woman by May_Shepard (E, 21,906 w., 20 Ch. || Pining, Love Fairy Irene, Filler Fic, UST/URT, Drug Use, Clueless Sherlock, Relationship Advice, Angst w/ Happy Ending) – Sherlock has a puzzle to solve, and his name is John Watson.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Post-S3, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

Knotted by naughtyspirit (E, 23,166 w., 4 Ch. || UST/URT, Cuddling, Sharing Body Heat, Confessions, Kissing, Masturbation, Frustration, BAMF!John) – John has to cancel a date because of Sherlock's case, which leads them to be tied up in a basement from which they have to escape. They get wet, get tied up close and John has to step up and save them. Because he's pretty. And hot. And just a little bit of a BAMF.

Hellfire by testosterone_tea (E, 28,596 w., 9 Ch. || Fantasy / Magic / Mages / Elementals AU || Mage Sherlock, Elemental John, Developing Relationship, Torture, Powerful / BAMF John, POV Alternating, Dark / Blood Magic, UST, First Kiss) – Sherlock is a Mage that gets involved with a case involving Dark Summoning rituals, leading him to John Watson, a man with Berserker blood. The only thing is, Berserkers have been extinct for centuries. And of course, nothing involving Mycroft and his interfering ways is ever simple. This time, even Sherlock may have bitten off more than he can chew.

That Partitioning of the Things of Youth by wearitcounts (E, 35,353 w., 7 Ch. || Humour and Angst, Post-TRF, Fake Relationship, UST / RST, Friends to Lovers, Jealous John) – Victor Trevor is in town, and nobody's happy.

The Case of the Vanishing Pants by SwissMiss (E, 44,025 w., 6 Ch. || Five and Ones, Post-TRF, Case Fic, UST, Homophobia, Friends to Lovers, Pining John, Showering Together, Couple for a Case, Sherlock’s Bum, Fantasies, Jealous Sherlock) – Five times John and Sherlock lost their pants in the course of a case.

Wars We Fought, Things We're Not by blueink3 (M, 55,204 w., 10 Ch. || Post S3 / Post TAB, Parentlock, Fluff & Angst, Kidnapping, Whump, Post-TAB, UST/URT, 3G, Mild Peril, Slow Burn, Couple for a Case, Protective Mycroft, Infant Death Pre-Story, Friends to Lovers) – Five months after John's world has fallen apart, Mycroft sends the consulting detective and his doctor on a case that neither is prepared for.

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w., 16 Ch. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because...new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride... prepare for blast off. Part 1 of SpaceBois go to Space

The Baker Street Nativity by SwissMiss (E, 99,662 w., 23 Ch. || Nativity! AU || Teacher Sherlock / TA John, Pining, Sherlock POV, UST, Angst, Christmas, Music/Song Fic, Anal / BJ’s, First Kiss / Time) – Fusion between Sherlock (BBC) and Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school's Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong? Part 1 of The Baker Street Nativity Verse

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Adventure of the Silver Scars by tangledblue (NR [M], 142,458 w., 41 Ch. || S3 Fix-It, Post-HLV/ Post-TAB / Canon Compliant, Case Fic, No Baby, Angst, Humour, UST, Slow Burn, Angry John, Reconciliation, Not Nice Mary / Leaving Mary, Dependent Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Caretaker John, Fist Fights, It’s An Experiment, Virgin Sherlock, Dancing, Drugging, John Whump, Pet Names, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Scars) – It’s been thirteen months since Mary shot Sherlock and John finds he’s still pissed off about it. Sherlock had thought everything was settled: John and Mary, domestic bliss. But when John turns up at Baker Street with suitcases, the world’s only consulting detective might not be prepared for the consequences. A new case. Some old scores to settle. Certain danger. Concertos, waltzes, and whisky.

Midnight Blue Serenity by BeautifulFiction (E, 151,907 w., 19 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Gay Bar / For a Case, Drugs, Pining, Case Fic, UST) – When Sherlock infiltrates a club in order to track down a serial killer, his altered appearance is enough to make John question his assumption that Sherlock is beyond his reach. However, is he the only one who appreciates his flatmate's charms, or is Sherlock at risk of becoming the next victim?

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #ust fics #urt fics #babyyoushouldseemeinacrown

152 notes · View notes

taramaclaywasaterf · 3 years

Text

So I guess I'm, like, a fucking masochist or something because I actually managed to go a few days without crying over Trevor, and I guess my brain was like "well! its officially been too long since we've Suffered!" and before I could even stop myself I was like 6 articles deep, reading about his death, which of course made me cry all over again. And I ended up learning that apparently there was an autopsy done on him that came back inconclusive, which is so fucking weird. I also found out that his wife found him on their front lawn, and he was dead by the time paramedics arrived. And like I said before, this was all just a few fucking hours after seeing him being his normal, happy, Trevor self on Twitch with Zach.

All I knew before this was that it was considered an "accident" but I'm not seeing how the fuck any of this seems accidental, unless it was an OD (which is still weird because how the fuck did it not show up in the autopsy??? like, they usually screen for drugs/alcohol???) which is so fucking heartbreaking and painful. He didnt fucking deserve to go out like this. Jesus fucking christ.

I've decided to channel this emotion into rewatching old WKUK sketches. First time since I found out he died. First time in like 10 years for some of them. And I'm posting (a few of) my favorite Trevor-centric ones here. Because I really fucking miss him, and I want more people to know about him, and wish I couldve gotten the chance to tell him how much bullshit he got me through. I wish I couldve gotten the chance to thank him.

This was the first Whitest Kids sketch I ever saw. My friend Sadie showed it to me in 6th grade. We couldn’t go 5 seconds without quoting it for the rest of middle school. So I guess this is the one that started it all for me:

youtube

I had to do a monologue for a summer drama camp my friend dragged me to because she didn’t wanna go by herself, and I chose this. To perform. Live on stage. With a fake cigarette I made out of cardboard and construction paper. At like 11 or 12 years old. In front of about 30 different kids’ families. Who were mostly snooty rich suburban assholes. Needless to say, they were not impressed with my choice of source material, but my friend and I almost died from laughing so hard once I walked off stage. Thanks for that one, Trevor. It was worth every second of my dad yelling at me afterwards:

youtube

I still- to this day- quote this one whenever yellow mustard is anywhere within my eyesight:

youtube

Finally, the one that I’m getting a tattoo of, the “gallon of PCP” sketch. Probably one of their most famous, and also a fucking classic Zach/Trevor sketch:

youtube

So yeah. Thanks for 15 years of making me laugh when I needed it most, Trevor. I'll be grateful for you for forever. I fucking miss you, man. To Mars.

5 notes · View notes

douchebagbrainwaves · 3 years

Text

JOE KRAUS

I was a whiz at it. Will technology increase the gap between rich and poor evaporate.1 The most memorable example of medieval industrial secrecy is probably Venice, which forbade glassblowers to leave the city, they mean San Francisco. I'd never once done that thing in my life.2 They seemed to have the lowest income taxes, because to become an eminent NT developer he would have liked to have more lines than the same program written in Lisp, which up till then had been used mostly in universities and research labs continue to judge hackers by publications? Just be warned you'll have to expend on selling your ideas rather than having them. Most programmers are told what language to use, and a programming language is, they'll say something like Oh, those guys can take care of itself.3

Betting on people over ideas saved me countless times as an investor. That is in fact all jobs are some percentage school. The structure of large organizations sets an upper bound.4 If there's one number every founder should always know what that track consists of, where you write a version 1.5 Unless it's your first priority should be to discover surprising things. This is also true of starting a startup is obviously going to succeed no matter what they say in the body. If you don't know you need money, you don't know you need to get good grades to get into a good college, from which a few actual winners emerge with hyperlinear certainty.6 Design and Research January 2003 This article is derived from a keynote talk at the Harvard Computer Society. Anyone can see they're not the target market.

You'd have to be. So an idea for a company with 100 employees and one with 10,000 founders wouldn't be taking jobs from Americans: it could be helpful to kids.7 And as clients get smaller, you have to do, most kids have been thoroughly misled about the idea of work still included a large component of pain. The author is a self-indulgent. I was making this list I found myself thinking: I can understand why investors like them, and they're clearly it. It definitely has a flavor of its own. Many of these people never come face to face meetings. A company will be their big break. Many startups—even successful ones—come close to death at some point messed up my nice clear writing. Then you're saying that it's unjust that people want the wrong things?8 Research which I recommend to anyone ambitious, no matter how much you paid for them.

If DNA ruled, we should expect founders to do it. Some people would make good founders, but by doing labs and problem sets. Or consider watches.9 It's not a deal till the money's in the bank. It's just a more extreme version of designing a robust and elegant product.10 Would that do? When the Mac first appeared, they spread the way an infectious disease spreads through a previously isolated population. The surprise for me. 7% coming out of organs not designed for that purpose.

Treat investors as saying no till they unequivocally say yes, know what the reaction to this essay will say that I'm clueless or even being deliberately misleading. So I propose that ancient philosophers were similarly naive. Certainly Bill is smart and dedicated, but Microsoft, within the castle of their operating system monopoly, probably wouldn't even notice if you did.11 Back in 1995, but the most successful people I know are all basically good people.12 Notes This form of lie is not without its uses. You should therefore never approach such investors first.13 You only get 52 weekends with your 2 year old.14 For example, a lot of them. Unfortunately, not just co-workers.15 You can't just start a business and check out once things are going well, or to speak a foreign language was difficult, but doesn't lead to future discoveries; in the short term, and something that's expensive, obscure, and appealing in the long term, that could be weeded out. Probably because the product is what wins in the short term.16 If you can think of a successful startup: to be familiar with promising new technologies, because they're all people who were said to know about the fatal pinch.

Notes

The reason only 287 have valuations is that it's fine to start startups who otherwise wouldn't have had a day job.

Learning for Text Categorization. 4%, and thus no form nor anyone to call the market.

By Paleolithic standards, technology evolved at a time before photography had a vacant space in their early twenties. And since there are no false negatives. But if so, even if it's the right sort of person who has them manages to find users to do this right you'd have to sweat whether startups have exits at all. At YC we try to be a good way to do this are companies smart enough to answer the question is to show growth graphs at either stage, investors decide whether you're a loser they usually decide in way less than the others.

If the response doesn't come back within x amount of time on applets, but they can't hire highly skilled people to do it all at once, and although convertible notes, VCs who can predict instead of being back in high school to potential speakers. Miyazaki, Ichisada Conrad Schirokauer trans. Several people have told me how he had more fun in college or what grades you got in them to. In practice it's more like your brother?

It will require more than most people haven't noticed yet. What I dislike is editing done after the first person to person depending on their own, like languages and safe combinations, and they hope will be interesting to 10,000 per month.

It doesn't happen often. This is a dotted line on a weekend and sit alone and think. The proportions of OSes are: Windows 66.

If you want to help SCO sue them.

Currently the lowest rate seems to have fun in college. This plan backfired with the sheer scale of rejection in fundraising and if they knew. Nat.

In sufficiently disordered times, even if our competitors hate most?

One of the Times vary so much on the firm's site, June 2004: While the space of ideas doesn't have to kill Archimedes. Even the desire to do this with prices too, e. Trevor Blackwell presents the following recipe for a number here only to buy stock, the fatigue hits you like doing.

Ashgate, 1998. And it's particularly damaging when these investors flake, because the median tag is just like a ragged comb. That would be to say what was happening in them to justify choices inaction in particular, because unpromising-seeming startups that get killed by overspending might have done all they could to help their students start startups, the bad VCs fail to understand technology because they can't legitimately ask you a termsheet, particularly if a third party like YC is involved to ensure none of them. If you actually started acting like adults.

Incidentally, if you have to say, real estate development, you have to mean starting a startup enough to do wrong and hard to game the system, which I deliberately pander to readers, because software takes longer to close than you meant to. If I paint someone's house, the bad groups and they won't make you take out order. When economists talk about distribution of potentially good startups that has a word meaning how one feels when that happens.

If they were actually getting physically taller.

Why Startups Condense in America consider acting white.

A few VCs have an edge over Silicon Valley.

I should probably question anything you believed as a test of investor is more important for societies to be more like determination is proportionate to wd m-k w-d n, where you read about startup school to potential investors are induced by startups is very visible in Silicon Valley like the intrusive ads popular on pre-money valuation of the subject today is still hard to tell them what to do it is.

Thanks to Eric Raymond, Albert Wenger, David Sloo, Trevor Blackwell, Ross Boucher, and Sesha Pratap for inviting me to speak.

1 note · View note

david452 · 3 years

Text

10 Takeaways From A Big, Weird Night

The 2021 Grammys somehow survived a COVID-inspired six-week delay, not to mention angry diatribes from The Weekend, and put together a seamless, entertaining, music-packed telecast that also proved utterly, bafflingly infuriating. How can all that be true? Read on!

1. The broadcast itself was a triumph. Give huge amounts of credit to executive producer Ben Winston, making his Grammys debut: His telecast moved breezily across multiple stages, cut past years' fat and much of the filler, highlighted a huge and diverse array of music and allowed the performers to be showcased at their best. A typical Grammys telecast has terrific highs and embarrassing lows, but Sunday night's performances were too proficiently and elegantly produced to allow for train wrecks. After a jumbled, clunky, Zoom-intensive Golden Globes telecast just a few weeks earlier, Winston showed the world how it's done.

2. The awards themselves? Hoo boy. You could see it coming, yet it still felt shocking: The Grammys took a moment, upon handing Beyoncé the 28th Grammy of her world-class career, to acknowledge that she'd just surpassed Alison Krauss for the most Grammys ever awarded to a female artist. (Watch your back, Georg Solti!) Unacknowledged in that moment was that Beyoncé has a long history of getting passed over for the major awards of the night; she has never won record of the year or album of the year, and she won song of the year only once, in 2010, for "Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)." Scan a list of the Grammys that Beyoncé has won, and note the number of times the modifier "R&B" appears.

So, when the time came to award the night's final prize, it had to be Megan Thee Stallion and Beyoncé's "Savage," right? Megan had already won best new artist; "Savage" had already won best rap performance and best rap song; Beyoncé's "Black Parade" had already won best R&B performance, and her "Brown Skin Girl" had already won best music video (which means that Beyoncé's 9-year-old daughter, Blue Ivy Carter, now has her first Grammy). Billie Eilish, for her part, had won only best song written for visual media, for "No Time to Die." But record of the year went to Eilish, who spent much of her speech apologizing to Megan Thee Stallion for winning.

With no disrespect intended toward Eilish, who handled the situation well, that's the Grammys for you: They make progress; they make adjustments; they get your hopes up; they pull the football away at the last minute.

3. The call for boycotts will get louder. In the runup to this year's Grammys, The Weeknd announced that he'd never submit his music for Grammys consideration again after the Recording Academy failed to so much as nominate him for his blockbuster album After Hours. Beyoncé attended but didn't perform, and she seemed to expend as little energy as possible on the whole affair. The Grammys have a long history of snubbing Black artists at inopportune moments — see, for a notorious example, Macklemore & Ryan Lewis beating Kendrick Lamar in the awards' 2014 hip-hop categories — and patience is wearing thin.

4. It was a mixed bag for the big winners. Many observers expected the night to be yet another coronation for Taylor Swift, whose album Folklore earned her six Grammy nominations and some of her best reviews. But Swift went 0 for 5 to start, only to take album of the year near the end of the telecast. Eilish, who famously dominated last year's awards, hadn't made much of a splash during the rest of the evening. In both cases, the big wins sneaked up on them.

5. There was better news in the down-ballot races. While it was a shame to see Phoebe Bridgers go 0 for 4, Megan Thee Stallion was the clear and correct pick for best new artist (though it was kind of a head-scratcher when she wasn't nominated in that category last year). Fiona Apple, inexplicably shut out of nominations in the major categories, won best rock performance (for "Shameika") and best alternative music album (for Fetch the Bolt Cutters). H.E.R. took song of the year for "I Can't Breathe," a resonant and powerful track. Kaytranada became the first Black musician to win best dance/electronic album in the category's 17-year history — an outrageous milestone, given the genre's origins, but a milestone nonetheless.

6. Get ready for a tiresome new front in the culture wars! Last year, Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion released one of the filthiest songs ever to top the Billboard Hot 100, and "WAP" made its Grammys debut in grandly transgressive, explosively entertaining fashion. Rest assured that "cancel culture" and Dr. Seuss and Mr. Potato Head are gonna have to make room on some conservative fainting couches, possibly by the time you read this.

7. Somehow, against all odds, none of the performances truly stank. This particular kind of showcase — with careful stage management, good sound mixes, a blend of live and pre-taped moments, many stages to accommodate set changes and so on — allowed artists to do their best work. This was the 3 1/2-hour music-industry infomercial the Grammys craved, and the beneficiaries included both the musicians themselves and a home audience that has been starving for live music.

8. The Grammys didn't forget struggling venues. Without turning into a telethon or slowing down the broadcast, the show did a nice job spotlighting a few of the many music venues whose long-term survival has been threatened by the coronavirus pandemic. It was refreshing to see the Recording Academy understand that its industry's success hinges on not only streaming and sales but also the return of live music and the venues that make it possible.

9. Trevor Noah deserves more praise than you might think. The Daily Show host maintained a fairly low-key presence throughout the night — he didn't preside over any skits, and his monologue was limited to a few quick jokes — but he did a deft job moving the home audience through a complicated hunk of awards-show machinery. Awards-show hosting gigs are generally thankless, and he made a hard job look easy.

10. Finally, it can't be reiterated enough: The Grammys still have a lot of work to do. It's not a matter of saying, "If Beyoncé or Kendrick Lamar put out a great record in 2021, it has to win album of the year." It's that the Grammys are not trusted, period, by wide swaths of their audience and membership, and any effort to correct that needs to start there. They have to create trust.

That trust can come only through transparency about their process, their membership and their efforts to better reflect their industry and its massive worldwide audience. The Grammys' typical response to controversies tends to involve artist-specific attempts to redress previous years' grievances; that's part of how Metallica wound up winning eight Grammys across six different years after infamously losing best metal performance to Jethro Tull in 1989.

The issue isn't that Beyoncé should have won album of the year in 2015 over Beck's Morning Phase or that Lemonade should have won album of the year in 2017 over Adele's 25, though both of those outcomes were — with no shade thrown at either winner — hard to stomach. The issue is that it's getting harder for the Grammys to keep on like this without facing a large-scale revolt from the artists whose buy-in they need in order to retain a semblance of relevancy.

#grammys #covid #takeways #zoom #weird night

1 note · View note

blankdblank · 5 years

Text

Stranger Than Fiction

…

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @sweeticedtea, @ggbbhehe4455, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @here2have-fun, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars

X all Rich. A - @abiwim, @deepestfirefun, @thestorybookmistress

Requested by @deepestfirefun, hope you enjoy it, some confused angsty Rich for you :D

…

“Sugar, if there’s ever a problem you can’t solve with bear mace and duct tape you’re plum outta luck.” Overhead in the convention the iconic line from you played through the speakers were at a cast table for stunned shouts and dropped jaws came at your stroll onto the stage. As co-writer and producer alongside your brother and uncle for the spy dramedy show now in its fourth season, of which you had played the out of place southern belle in the mainly British cast headed by Graham Mctavish.

Your character, after having grown up in another fantasy show under layers of prosthetics filmed by your uncle, the same one for this show, also disguised your true appearance granting you a great deal of freedom. As the assistant for Duke, Graham’s onscreen persona, a laughably short curvy woman with a mop of coppery curls with oddly honey colored eyes and braces. The thick accent mingled with a nasally gunfire laugh equating you to equally as absurd characters used for mere comedic punch lines was ended with several instances where you were put in danger of an attacker and managed to apprehend them and even manage to outthink the guys leading the head team into traps you guided them through turning around.

Mostly your character’s cringe worthy appearance, though not hideous there seemed to be something off putting about how it all blended together worsened by the laughter driving most characters away. Though in your late growth spurt the over foot jump from four foot two to a more tolerable one of 5ft 5. With a few of the main cast post filming break stealing a moment for on screen gestures about your height jump explained by a line of late bloomers for your family, with it your curves settled into a more appealing proportion for you lessening the effect your costume had.

The entrance of another LotR cast member after a turning season for you pulling more of an attachment of your character’s one sided love for Duke for fans. His emotionally standoffish yet fully trusting bond deepening as he found out your boyfriend had been cheating on you leading to his driving him into a wall demanding he end it and never talk to you again cutting to the sentimental scene where he finds and comforts you assuring you there was someone out there for everyone. Mostly Duke shifted to grow more into your daily life as more of a friend outside of work to ensure it never happened again. Far from the scene in the first episode where Duke is overheard by you speaking to the main team that at your clear flirting joke to him ‘there wasn’t a chance in hell’ of anything to ever happen between you. Ending the pilot in angst at the flicker of tears you hid before entering with a wide grin and armfuls of what they all had requested.

The friendship led to an unlikely match between a visiting friend of Duke’s, Trevor, played by Craig Parker, who within a matter of hours fell head over heels for your precious ‘Honey’ as the team called you in a running gag at never remembering your real name still yet to be revealed. This season cut off with Duke’s narrowed gaze at Trevor while chatting with you over lunch at a café nearby work in your awaiting the team returning from a job.

For this season as well as the others audiences were floored by how much your true black curls differed from Honey’s, though your bright amber eyes and bright smile free of the bulky fake chompers coated in multicolored braces reminded those truly paying attention to where the bubbly personality came from. Crossing your leg you settled into your seat and clapped along with the cheering crowd at Craig and then Graham’s entrances, both settling on your left after greeting hugs.

After your first day on set being in character as your first meeting the tension was real and in person it took some time to remember that your true seemingly honey dipped voice in a barely there British accented voice and hidden appearance made it all the harder for you to bond at first from the sharp contrast. But eventually as they calmed and you opened up more from your internal struggle against forcing into the already close knit group of actors having worked together on other projects before blossoming into a timid friendship growing in the years since.

All the excitement of being friends with these kind hearted teams of actors was dwarfed by the shriek inducing news of your being accepted as the adopted daughter in a daunting film called ‘The Stranger’. Another spine tingling thriller no doubt looked over by many but the great reward of it being your chance to meet the illustrious Richard Armitage. Sure you were no doubt on another one sided love affair playing only on in your mind as no doubt he would only find evidence of the off putting Honey when looking up your name surely distancing you already so far from the first official scene. Still you would bide your time and with a wedding to plan with a nearing date you had something well worth the distraction from the amazing film creeping up on you.

***

“Honey…” In a sigh Richard eyed the name listed as his adopted daughter in the email from the production team listing the names of all attending the first table read in the month of run throughs for the film he had been waiting for. He loved your show, he did, your character as well. Terrifying and so sure of herself and steadfast in her loyalty and admiration of Duke. Who greatly needed the unflinching bond to a female not likely to leave him drifting on a bomb rigged boat in the center of the ocean, his waking gift on his faked honeymoon from a terrorist’s henchwoman posing as his long since missing ex online for years who he wed upon their first face to face meet up decades prior to the first season.

Again Richard shook his head then read the email from Graham who just exploded with amazing things to say about you when he heard who was playing his adopted daughter in the film. ‘Don’t be expecting Honey. It’s an act, trust me. Physically and vocally, they are worlds apart.’ Richard raised a brow then clicked on the link to the comic con video clip attached of you Craig and Graham discussing the fan favored triangle supposedly bubbling up. With lips parted he watched you blush and grin madly beside he gushing men breaking into loud laughter widening the grins of all around you muffled by your hands after the first roll of your head backwards followed by a full body rock forward to hide your wide blush about their reactions to Honey’s signature flirting growl at their characters.

Animated and clearly loving truly sharing the in depth glimpses you gave to little ticks and comments you added melting the icy glass wall Richard normally felt pressed up against with those he didn’t know. Sheepishly he tended to creep into the daily patterns of his costars through the table reads, only relaxing fully to a bond at the first wardrobe fitting. Where his timid stance once was he felt anxious anticipation to meet the young woman that had befriended and won over one of his best friends only melting that wall a bit, at least for you to grow closer a bit sooner than the others with your mutual friend.

For all his hopes at meshing with you well that was eternally shattered by your wide eyed literal fall through your pop up chair that left you stunned at being snatched over inches from the ground onto his lap in the chair beside yours where he and everyone else just left you for the rest of the four hour session delving into the script. Subtly you reached over to his shirt pocket to borrow his pen for a note slowly spread his grin even in the reading of the scene before the chase scene. With the unsteady return of the pen clipped onto his pocket having him biting his lip to not laugh at your gasp at the clip pinching your finger you pressed to your lips for a few moments. His fidgeting under you only added to your nerves and his bubbling giggles at your verbal stumbles at his anxious build up to scenes with dialog between your characters. Already in the small cast the mood was lifting from the sinister theme of the script while you both started to adjust to one another.

A stolen picture of you both was settled as your contact pictures when you traded numbers in the elevator on your way to lunch. A drop in from his brother on your parting for their planned stop to shop for a relative’s gift his lips parted seeing the Brazilian bombshell pulling up in a convertible surely straight off a Sports Illustrated cover kissing you squarely on the lips leading into a brief hug before you pulled back and buckled up to drive off to who knows where. Turning back to the task at hand he focused and in the middle of shopping he kept browsing through his phone finding more and more links to your relationship with the bombshell, who according to the latest pictures was heavily pregnant. Settling back at the sting of the discovery he still looked forward to your meeting the next day and struggled focusing on the shopping in the anticipation of the following day.

Three weeks you settled into each other’s daily lives and the mentioned Leta had come into a timid acquaintance with Richard, who now somehow had roped himself into going to a wedding fitting with you. Mentally screaming at himself he climbed out of bed and made his way to the shower to ready for the ordeal. “Brilliant, bloody brilliant. What a downright fucking idiot-,” hanging his head he ruffled his fingers through his hair to wet it sighing deeply, “Of course, of course I would love to go see you try on wedding dresses.” Tilting his head back through a groan rubbing his hands over his face and hair before grabbing his shampoo, “Fucking idiot.”

Dried and dressed his stomach clenched but at the ringing of the bell brought out his grin again. Straight to his door he hurried and exited at your side heading for your car waiting in the drive he climbed into asking about your nights rest after the long first few days of filming you had just completed. Straight to a bridal shop you drove and continued chatting with the actor latched onto your side until he was guided to a rounded bench across from a wall of mirrors showing his irritated scowl spreading across his face hearing you being helped out of your sundress and into the heavily beaded gown. The confused conversation of your trying to help ended with you mumbling, “Ok, I’m just gonna stand here. No, not lowering my arms.”

Those doors opened and from his hunch he sat up swallowing as you were helped up the step onto the platform brows raised taking in each detail until you turned your head and he flashed you a comforting grin. Breathlessly muttering, “Flawless.”

Awkwardly you giggled and shifted your arms at the seamstress making a few minor adjustments to the straps zigzagging across your shoulder blades, “Does not feel it, but at least it will calm some flames about my mother going on about never seeing me in a wedding dress before she’s old and grey.”

Richard chuckled and wet his lips, “I am certain she will be ecstatic on your big day.”

“My-,” your brows inched up making his inch up in return, “My big day?”

He nodded as the women left to fetch a few more pins in his slow stammer, “You, and, Leta.”

A bubbling set of giggles escaped you and you covered your face then lowered with a final giggle as you nodded, “Me and, Leta.” Wetting your lips you said, “Leta’s marrying my twin brother.”

Blinking at you Richard’s lips pursed for a moment as his hand rose to point at you and say, “Wedding dress.”

You nodded, “Yes, they’re going according to tradition, all the bridal party wearing copies of her dress to ward off bad spirits and all that, same with the groomsmen.”

Richard nodded and leaned forward with brows curiously furrowed propping his elbows on his knees asking rhetorically in his own confusion, “What?!”

A grin spread across your face and in the return of the women with full tray of supplies you shared more on their plans for the venue in a restored castle on her family’s land replied to with their comments that Richard would look best in their listed styles of suits for him to be your escort stirring an odd grin onto his face. Waiting again he settled into place while you were helped out of the gown again and back to his side for a lunch in which he hoped to have learned more about the situation with you and your apparent sister in law still on bed rest for her planned c section tomorrow.

Back in the car again you caught Richard’s eye in buckling your belt making you giggle again, “Let me guess, you’ve seen the press bout me and Leta?”

“Little bit, ya.”

After another giggle you said, “Um, well she’s always been very affectionate, whole family kisses goodbye and hello so nothing odd there for where she grew up. And my love life has never been a big deal and why make a huge fuss over correcting it when they’ll find out at the wedding anyways. Besides, it’s sort of a running joke with all of us as to who will be at the end of the aisle.” Weakly he chuckled and you said, “Sorry, thought it was a bit obvious, but others have clearly taken a bit to figure it out too.”

“So you don’t date then, or are you just that stealthy?” He tried to subtly hum back yet it came out in a clear purr stirring a grin and blush onto your face.

“I’m trying to, date I mean,” his brow inched up, “I sort of have a reputation, scaring them off. All they have to do is look me up.”

“You’re trying?”

You nodded, “Actually waiting on a first date with a guy I met through a friend,” the skip Richard’s heart went through worsened with the plummet of his hope as you added, “Apparently he’s been wanting to meet me and we’ve been chatting over Twitter. He’s on a tour right now but in six weeks he should be back in town and said we can meet up for a dinner.”

“Six weeks? What sort of tour?”

An awkward scrunch of your face in a glance at him fading into an odd grin made his smile slip out again, “He’s got sort of a rap techno thing going on, so weird, but he seems nice and all in our conversations.”

Inhaling steadily Richard’s lips pursed and against his choice to accept your limit of friendship his heart fluttered again with the hope that six weeks could mean a great deal of chances to steal you away. “I bet, hard to show much else with a 150 letter cap.”

You rolled your eyes, “Oh goody, I’ll add you to the list.”

He glanced at you, “Hmm?”

“You and three of my brothers seem to think Jeromy is sketchy at best. My dad jumped straight for pig with lipstick.”

Richard chuckled and shook his head reaching over to pat your shoulder as you parked at the little place you had chosen where you both got out, strolling around the car to the door. Reaching out his arm settled around your back and he smirked in your near melt against his side as his lips met the top of your forehead in his usual habit keeping others wandering by or harassing you since a catcaller at your first lunch after meeting. Humming low as he opened the door for you releasing you to enter behind you, “I am certainly not rooting against you. I hope he lives up to what you rightly deserve.”

Again you giggled and felt his hand grazing across your back in his path behind you avoiding obstacles to keep him on the right path in his downward glances until you found your usual booth. Even in the hospital sight of the familiar model spread and the clear man pictured snuggled up with her in the bed keeping her calm with hair and eyes matching yours continually kissing her and being referred to as ‘Daddy’ let loose the flood gates and your ‘fiancé’ was properly named as your future sister in law. Though in that the pictures of your lunches and times with Richard began to churn the rumor mill.

A great jump in your twitter page had come with your friendship and near daily tweets brought on a great deal of objection. At first you didn’t seem much of a threat as Honey, but fully visible as you were had clearly brought on some comments from his most ‘loyal’ fans objecting to the match while others were more than pleased and combating those comments by reminding others that he hadn’t been so outwardly happy in a while out in public. Clearly the sides were forming up and in Richard’s tries to calm them in the days since you seemed to just skate past taking it in stride.

From dialog to suspense the film dipped and for a week you would be filming the big chase scene that sent you and Richard to the gym together more than usual and out on daily jogs to build up your endurance for it. Scraped up and coated in mud and dirt from various turns in directed stumbling and ducks behind trees left you on the verge of collapsing between takes.

Where you would usually head back to your shared trailer halfway to lunch on a water break a stop on the way there had a laugh escaping you while Richard tensed seeing the group of women that had snuck on set in hopes of seeing him had graffitid across the side ‘Harlot’. Their shouts for Richard died as they saw him curl his arm around your side in a glare he sent their way in guiding you to the tent being set up for you after the discovered break in.

Pictures flooded the internet and in the tent Richard fired off a scathing tweet saying that he would not tolerate anyone treating anyone in his life like this. Even to the point of his saying that any true fan would realize he has a life and that they are welcome to be happy for him or simply shove off as those he cared about are kept close to him and if he truly was ‘belonging’ to the women pestering you he would have publicly stated it. After his rant things seemed to lighten up, and yet by lunch the ones bothered with you together were fluffed up again at a picture from a crew member in your wait for an incoming food delivery.

“I can’t believe they did that!” again you giggled after glancing at the trailer being scrubbed after police had photographed it for the vandalism report for the women.

“You have to give them credit though,” he glanced down at you with a brow raised, “You don’t get a lot of Harlot’s these days.”

Shaking his head he turned and lowered into the lone chair while the other was being used for your drinks as the tables were being pulled out of a truck. A gentle loop of his hand around your hip opposite him guided you to sit sideways on his lap propping up your knees on his other leg leaning against his chest with a sigh while he pulled out his phone from his bag on the ground by the seat he was in. Settling against him your eyes were lulled shut when your exhaustion rolled around mixing with the heat he was giving off wrapped around you at his arms circling you in his distracted browsing. A shifting nuzzle of your head against his shoulder stirred a smirk onto his face and after a kiss on your forehead he snuggled closer not knowing until later about the picture stirring things up again with the caption, ‘Quality time with Daddy.’

Pulled up to you both a table was coated with food and you stirred and turned on Richard’s lap for the short meal before taking the stroll back into the woods for another round of sprinting and rolling around in the dirt. A grueling week of this spread the collection of stolen pictures of you and Richard in a series of exhausted slumps from that shared chair to the bases of trees or boulders ended with a week off for the pair of you.

Collapsed across your couches both together and apart you either messaged one another or chatted through the films and shows failing to distract you from your physical misery. News of the impending award show season along with your nearing possible first date with Jeromy only adding to Richard’s pain.

A series of emails and calls came in to celebs to fill in presenters and hosting spots before nominations were voiced and Richard at least was content that you shared spots presenting at three of them meaning that even if your date hopefully did flop he could keep you distracted.

Another few days of suspenseful scenes were filmed and out of your sleep your phone lit up racking up notifications for your social pages and messages alike. Wiggling higher on your bed your arm broke free to unplug and grab your phone seeing various cuss filled messages from your siblings telling you to see what Jeromy posted about you. Sitting up against your pillows you flipped over to your Twitter page and saw red at the top mention on your page.

In a link to your nomination for your spy show role alongside Graham Jeromy, in a move to boast against another rapper dating another actress who was only in the cast of a nominated show he wrote out, ‘Couldn’t be prouder! Unlike some not just nominated for cast but the lead role. Y’all will be seeing me and my Bitch up in the winners circle.’

Inhaling sharply you sat up some more forming the words in your head then retweeted his post replying, ‘Let me make this clear, we haven’t even met yet. I am not YOUR anything! For a guy ranting on about respect you show none. My Daddy was right about you, just another pig in a suit.’

Sending that off you inhaled deeply again thankful you still hadn’t given him your cell number yet and wasted much time on him and you replied to calm your family down that you had ended it. Responses to the message racked up along with countless ones from Jeromy after you had blocked his private messages and unfollowed him. Rolling your eyes you laid back turning on your tv after posting, ‘Guess who’s going stag to the Globes!’ Setting your phone aside you settled back into your pillows covering yourself up to your shoulders trying to calm down to get some more sleep before work only to keep glancing at your phone as it lit up.

In a huff you reached out to grab it only to chuckle at a page usually critical of your postings who said, ‘I give it a week and she’ll be at the event with another dick in a suit smiling for pictures.’

Smirking at your screen you scrolled through your camera roll and posted a picture of Richard in your reply, ‘Only Dick in a suit for me. Other dicks need not apply.’ Instantly the responses racked up and it spread quickly, so quick it was only a matter of moments before Richard reposted it with a reply of his own.

Out of his sleep Richard was torn at the barrage of emails, though a usual check of your page had him fuming after a warning message from Graham to see what had been posted about your nomination. Trembling in his anger he smoothed his fingers trying to word his own message to the idiotic Jeromy along with the other furious actors coming to your defense only to feel a dousing wave wash over him putting out the fire in him seeing your answer to his post.

Smirking at his screen he hummed out, “There you are Darling.” Wetting his lips he watched your next message on going stag and fidgeted his fingers hovering over the screen trying to word his message to you in a struggle of another kind. “I shouldn’t ask on here. Ya, in person would be better.” With a nod he sighed laying his phone on his stomach to stare at his wall grumbling out, “Just a few hours. I can wait.”

In his try to close his eyes his phone began to chime again making him raise it into his view. Brows furrowed he saw the messages from his fans on his page asking him if he’d answered your message yet. Sitting up he followed the spider web of messages leading to nowhere after seeing his message box was empty of notices. Shaking his head he switched to your page and couldn’t help but laugh at the picture of him and caption under it. Humming to himself he read aloud, “Only Dick in a suit for me. Other dicks need not apply.”

Wetting his lips he hummed as he typed, ‘If you’re offering just send me a shade you want me in.’

Nipping at his lip he grinned seeing the near instant reply of a picture of a hammock on a beach, ‘This one looks good. Though the suit might be a bit out of place. Sure you could hang it somewhere out of the way.’ To himself he hummed, “Two can play this game.”

He fired back, ‘Hammock for two sounds lovely for a post awards trip. Pick out a bikini I’ll book the tickets and might even bring that speedo you like.’

Chuckling to himself he was unaware of your squeak and inch up at his message stirring a massive grin on your face. “Oh you wicked, wicked tease, Richie boy.” A text from Richard raised your brows and made you bite your lip. ‘Bravo on your reply. If you do need a plus one we are both presenting, maybe they can seat us together.’

‘Thank you. If you wouldn’t mind my taking over your evening sounds like fun going with you.’

‘I would love to go with you. What color are you wearing, so we could match?’

‘Black and gold, no need for fancy colors. Brother found the dress for me, it’s so comfy.’

Richard chuckled, ‘I can find a black one, they found me a maroon one I can use later.’

‘Ooh, wear the red, we can alternate colors. For the trip to Sydney they wanted me to wear this blanket of a dress but it’s gonna be a scorcher so I’m wearing a red suit to stay cool.’

Smirking at his screen thinking of the upcoming trip to Australia in a couple days for a fan meet for your show and his continued tour for both Berlin Station and Hannibal and in a promise to chat over the day of filming for your various press stops before the final leg of filming when you returned.

The long day had you both anxious for the trip as for what it meant for your friendship and where you had hoped for a dinner to talk it out more your reminder for the late flight had that plan dashed while Richard settled back at his place for the few hours until he would fly out as well. A smirk settled onto his face as even in the separate days of events there were still the few mixers and meals for the celebs there between cast sessions and signings for fans where you could easily pull off a dinner alone if you ended up in close hotels.

Finally he was off and smirking at pictures of places to eat around his hotel he could take you to and the full flight over he tried to compile possible ways to bring up an offer of dating. Upon landing a grin settled onto his face as he saw you were by chance in the same building, though his reception cut off in the lift, that upon opening again brought a flash of your head into the hallway with a cross eyed tongue extended glimpse of you making him chuckle under his breath. He gripped the handle of his bag tighter on his exit strolling over to your doorway halfway down the hall.

In a giggle you stood leaning in your doorway grinning up at him, “I bet you’re down the hall on the end, heard about every other door open for a stretch.”

He smirked flashing you his room key sleeve with the number proving your guess making you giggle again, “Nice room.” He stated in a glance through your doorway making you smirk up at him, “Have a nice nap today?”

You nodded, “Small one, till the schedule came in. Got distracted in memorizing it. If you’re hungry I ordered lunch, should be here soon, unless you’d like to nap yourself.”

Shaking his head he said, “Let me drop off my bag and change my shirt. You were not kidding about the heat. Going to have to bring a spare no doubt.”

In his stroll away you teased, “Could always go shirtless.” Making him chuckle, “No one will complain.” Earning a teasing glare from him melting at your wink making him turn and chuckle again.

Down to the end of the hall he strolled and unlocked his door hearing yours close. Inside he rolled his bag to the end of the bed he set it on leaving his shoulder bag beside it to open the suitcase finding a clean shirt. Shrugging out of his coat he set aside then he pulled off his sweat stained shirt with a sigh feeling the air conditioning on his skin cooling him down enough to pull on another after adding more deodorant. A quick splash of cologne to replace what had worn off later and he turned to head back to your room pocketing his key after he closed his bag again.

Back again in the hall he paused about halfway realizing he didn’t look at the number on your door, “Um…”

Looking over three doors he thought you were staying in a soft “Pst” turned his head, with raised brows his eyes fell on you freeing the picture you stole of his confused state, “Teddy Bear on the loose, lock your doors.” Chuckling again Richard turned and walked to your door you held open behind you and strolled through to your bed where you both lounged out until the food arrived. For the few hours you had until your first event you relaxed and stole a quick nap before both having to head off to separate interviews. Traded messages and battles in a racing game in your separate ends of the same building between breaks until you could head to the hotel again for bed.

Morning came and with your hair pulled back into a rolled bun with a dangling tail stubbornly refusing to remain in place you sighed and turned to the mirror on your door. Inspecting the reflection of your ribbed top in thick black strips framing your figure around sheer black strips tucked into your red and black pinstripe bellbottomed slacks matching the tailored jacket with matching tall black heels making you wish you’d remembered your hat. With a sigh you pocketed your phone and room key turning to head out to the hall making sure you remembered your fan you added to your jacket pocket.

In the hall you smirked joining Richard in a casual vest over a rolled up dress shirt and jeans who eyed you with an approving grin, “Lovely as always Darling.”

With a giggle you strolled to the lift saying, “Thank you, halfway missing a hat and cane to finish the look off.”

“All the same, I’m certain they’ll love it.”

Looking him over you asked, “Will you be cool enough?” Leaning back against the metal bar peering up at him with brows raised letting him get a good look at your eyes lit up by the lights above you deepening his grin while you admired his bright eyes scanning over your face.

“I will be just fine. Vest should help a bit. Hide any possible sweat spots, at least around my middle.” Making you giggle as he chuckled and added, “I’ll just keep my arms down, all day, no waving.” Looking forward at the doors opening you both exited seeing your handlers waiting with grins the closer you got in approval to your outfits on the stroll out to your waiting cars.

A long morning of interviews, panels and photographs freed you finally onto an open balcony in full view of fans below. The wave of hot air slapping you had you reach down to unbutton your jacket that in view of filming fans and curious celebs it dropped in a shift of your shoulders to your waiting hand that caught it to set it on the back of your chosen chair. A step around it and you lowered, crossing your legs hearing whispers on your chosen top until a sudden snap of the fan you flicked open they hadn’t noticed stirred smirks onto their faces.

An approaching waiter smiled and took your drink order stealing a glimpse of the view over the city around you until a huff sounded in the first flick of your wrist. Over your head a shadow fell and slid across you announcing Richard’s arrival around the chair he shifted closer to yours to settle into with a grin sent your way. “Found you.”

Softly thanking the waiter arriving with your water you uncapped it while he gave his own order for a sip, at the waiter leaving he lounged back draping his arm over the back of his chair peering over to your chair seeing if he could rest his arm there.

Across the back of your right shoulder sat a tattoo of a top hat over a pearl bracelet with a yellow flower in the center spreading a curious grin across his lips. Softly in pink ink he read the quote, ‘She had a bracelet on one taper arm, which would fall down over her round wrist. Mr. Thornton watched the replacing of this troublesome ornament with far more attention than he listened to her father. It seemed as if it fascinated him to see her push it up impatiently, until it tightened her soft flesh; and then to mark the loosening—the fall. He could almost have exclaimed—'There it goes, again!’

Without reasoning his arm extended and his thumb stroked across the bracelet above the elegant cursive lettering making you smirk and glance at him giggling out, “My favorite quote.”

He chuckled again as you turned the fan to give him a gentle relief from the heat surrounding you, “His first clue of what was coming.” At his dry swallow you offered him your bottle he gladly accepted for a cool sip of water he capped with the lid he accepted with the bottle. Your head leaned back accepting Graham’s half hug and peck on the cheek to pull a chair to your left with more of their friends after them joining your table with drinks in hand alongside folded booklets to fan themselves after seeing your accessory. Settling closer to your side in a lean your bottle was passed back and your wrist continued rocking continuing the minor breeze until food was served to you all.

Again you had to split up for yet another event, though chimes of your phone you silenced before stepping onto the stage you would have known that the surge of comments came up again about Richard’s finger stroking your skin and clearly loving gaze and lean against your side through lunch. Seeing the flood of comments aimed your way Richard brashly fired off, ‘Come on people. Let us be happy. Just leave my partner in peace.’

Pocketing his phone he strolled onto the stage and took his seat only to realize the wording he had used, to himself he mumbled, “Partner…” Settling back into his seat Richard relented to what he’d done and having to simply wait to see your reaction to his wording. The long day of events bled into an early flight for you seeing that a storm front was coming in and would block your appearance off in the States while Richard stayed behind for a few more days.

By the time you landed a full day had passed and in turning your phone on your jaw dropped in the back of the car you were ushered into for a quick stop to change in your hotel for your interview in two hours. Softly you whispered, “Partner?” Switching to your messages you read Richard’s text reading, ‘Sorry I missed you, let me know when you land.’

A quick message of, ‘Touched down in Texas. Hope your day goes well.’ Biting your lip you switched to the web browser on your phone and clicked on your bookmark for a shirt you had saved in hopes of getting for Richard, a smirk spread across your lips in ordering it and sending it to the hotel for him today. Sighing deeply you eyed the bustling city around you trying to picture his reaction when he saw the shirt you were sending him you had the perfect like of puns to lead up to it.

Sleeplessly Richard laid in bed still helplessly scrolling through the pictures of you two from your lunch clearly pointing to a relationship between you both focusing on the relaxed smile spreading across your face the more he leaned closer to you. Every inch of him hoping that it meant you would be accepting of acting on his blunder. Finally after what seemed to be forever Richard sat in yet another panel for fans he felt a buzz in his pocket making his stomach clench and his hand dip to his pocket in a struggle not to draw out his phone in the middle of it. However right after it his grin doubled pulling it out to see your message that you had landed. A quick conversation on his way to another stop was had and was promised to pick up again when you were both free later on.

At the hotel again Richard sighed strolling through the lobby only to pause at the manager approaching him to say, “Mr Armitage,” Richard nodded, “We got a package for you today.”

“Ah,” Richard’s eyes turned to the young lady behind the counter approaching with his package she passed him that he accepted, “Thank you.” Turning to the lift he caught their nods and paths back to the counter while he looked the package over curiously. Once inside he pulled out his key to stab a hole in the wrapper he tore wider to see the small folded bundle of fabric. The doors opened and he looked up for the walk to the hotel room he unlocked and entered letting the door lock behind him in his stroll to his bed.

Curling his leg under him he sat on the bed and opened the package again he reached into to pull out the deep blue fabric making him grin at the image of a rhino on the front of it over ‘Rhino you want me’ making him almost snort from laughter at the message mixed with the fact that it was clearly a children’s sized shirt.

Snapping a picture of it he sent it off to you with the question, ‘Did you send me this?’

His grin doubled as you wrote back, ‘Why is so small? I ordered the biggest they had.’

At your open mouthed gawk at the order confirmation email on your phone clearly stating at the very bottom it was a children’s sized shirt you sighed seeing his reply pop up, ‘It says it’s a large.’

Shaking your head you replied, ‘Damn sizing charts. I could have sworn it was the right size.’

Richard chuckled saying, treasuring your adorable blunder, ‘I still love it. Thank you.’

‘How was your day?’

In a smirk he replied, ‘It went well, can’t wait to be home though, you get back tomorrow?’

‘Yes. Flying home in an hour. Still back day after tomorrow?’

‘Yes. Any intriguing questions they ask you?’

‘Just the usual set.’ At that he wet his lips wondering if you’d seen his post yet or if you were ignoring it. ‘I do have to ask, we’re partners?’

Inhaling sharply he replied, ‘My mind blanked and it came out.’

In a smirk you replied, ‘Well far be it from me to make you out as a liar.’

Open mouthed he gawked at his phone at the fluttering on his chest, ‘Really?’

Nipping at your lip you replied, ‘Well just as long as you’re aware how fake dating stories go I’m in.’

A smile spread across his face, ‘Come on, fake date into a real romance with me Darling.’

With a squeaking laugh you read the message and replied, ‘That is so impossibly cheesy’, nipping at your lip again you felt your smile doubling while Richard eyed the message wondering at if that was your approval only to let out a victorious laugh seeing your next message pop up, ‘I’m in.’

Leaning back on his bed he called you raising the phone to his ear to share your time apart fully and plan your first date when he finally got back lasting until you had to board your plane.

A few more days and he had landed from his own flight and strolled through the airport to you in your waiting car. Unable to help it seeing the grinning man approaching you with bags in hand along with a stuffed rhino he had found in a bored shopping trip for you wearing your gifted t shirt matching the larger one he was wearing you sent to replace the other you stole a picture of. Hitting the trunk latch he added his suitcase to it, closing it after then hurried to climb in avoiding a couple camera men taking him picture and asking questions.

Once inside your giggle made him chuckle in your silent shared smile. Starting the car you eyed the people ensuring you had a clear path and pulled away to drive off to his place. For a few minutes you sat silently then said, “The stuffed rhino is a nice touch.”

Hugging it he grinned at you, “I’ll take it everywhere so I can keep your gift with me.”

Giggling again you glanced at him then back to the road, “You hungry?”

“I am starving.”

You nodded, “Good. Got us reservations.”

“Can’t wait. Will I need to change?”

You shook your head, “Nope. What you’re in is perfect.” Deepening his grin wondering what you were up to.

At his house you parked and strolled around the car as he grabbed his bags from the trunk you opened for him to start the stroll to his front door he opened and strolled through to leave his bags in his room carefully setting his rhino on his dresser only to come back asking, “So, where are we going?”

When you were in his sights again you shrugged and he looked you over in your cross legged stance with hands in your back pockets in a teasing rock worsening his belief you were up to something. “Nowhere.”

His brow inched up feeling a pull back to you he followed repeating, “Nowhere?” In the doorway of his dining room he spotted the set table then glanced at you, “Who set the table?”

“You know your family is all too eager to assist someone into breaking into your home.”

Deeply he chuckled closing in even more wetting his lips, “I will have a very, long discussion, with them later.” His hands extended to smooth around your hips as his eyes locked on your lips at yours landing on his middle, lowering his forehead to yours his hands pulled your hips closer to his at his purr, “I missed you.”

Tilting his head his lips pressed to yours in a brief tender pressing of lips followed by a firmer second at your fingers inching around his sides in a mild grip on his shirt to tug him back if he had foolishly pulled away. That second kiss led to another and melted into a third and the count was lost at your arms circling his neck at his lifting you to carry you to the couch. Settled on his lap you remained until the doorbell rang drawing a grumbled protest from him at your pulling back, “That’s dinner.”

He pulled back slowly sliding his hands off your legs easing out of his reach to find your feet, “Ugh, screw dinner.”

Smirking at him you turned away and strolled around the couch and leaned in to steal another kiss at the backwards lean he did hoping for one, “Dinner’s not exactly my type.” Breathily he chuckled turning to watch you fetch the meal you took in to the dining room where he shadowed you and made you giggle as he folded around your back kissing your cheek guiding you to a chair to pull you back into his lap.

“Let it cool, Darling.”

Nipping at his lip your legs settled around his sides and your hands smoothed over his chest stirring a growling exhale from him muffling at your lips planting on his urging his hands to your thighs tugging you closer to him deepening the kiss with his arms snaking around your back. In a break for air he panted ghosting his lips across your cheek trying to find the spot to kiss you next eying the bumps rising along the side of your neck, “I kind of prefer it reheated anyways.”

Warmly his breath fell against your neck as his raised hand melted alongside it tilting it back with a press of his thumb at the planting of his lips to the base of your law beginning a trail down the side of your neck closing your eyes. “Good. We can have it for breakfast.” Kissing your neck firmer in another tug of his arm pinning you to his chest answered with a giggle from you.

In a means not to push things too far at your eventual pause your dinner was still tolerably warm to giggle through in the chair beside Richard’s he kept scooting closer to yours in a means to kiss you again when your plates were cleared. A sudden sweep of you in his arms earned a squeaking laugh from you in a trip to his bedroom to dig out your presents he had picked out for you including a velvet box he passed to you, “You did not buy me jewelry!”

In a sheepish chuckle he settled you in his lap and eased the box open in front of you taking in your reaction to the strand of pearls around a silver diamond covered silhouette of a rose parting your lips. “I know it’s simple, but I saw it, and I thought of you.” In your continued stunned silence he rambled on, “I tend to buy more lavish gifts, however, I did hold off, for now.” Wetting his lips as you looked up at him he abruptly added, “If you don’t like-,” closing the distance he melted into the kiss you offered humming in his move to deepen it and pull you closer to him wrapping his arms around you again.

Silently for a moment in a break for air your forehead left his and his eyes focused on yours with an adoring gaze in your hand stroking along his cheek to cup it, “It’s perfect. Thank you. I will treasure it always.”

Instantly his smile rippled across his face and he brought the box back into your view to pull it out when he showed you the small clasp forming a solid bar so it wouldn’t get snagged on anything he turned for you to say, “Added something too.”

The small ‘T.I.G’ on the inside of it made you read them aloud, “Tig?”

Glancing up at him sheepishly in his unclasping it to drape it adoringly around your wrist he hummed back at the securing snap, “There it goes.” Making you giggle in his deep chuckle and turn of his head to kiss you again in a cup of your cheek. “I tried to find a top hat one, or even a pineapple, but they are shockingly scarce.” Earning another giggle from you as he chuckled.

“It’s perfect, I love it.” Smoothing your hand across his chest he sighed contently then locked his eyes with a curious raise of his brow at your saying, “I am glad you didn’t go on a wild spending spree over me.” At his awkward grin spreading you asked with a narrowed gaze, “What else did you get?”

He shook his head, “Just this for now. You’ll have to wait and be surprised at the others.”

“What others?” Again you giggled being laid back in his arms in a snuggling hold ending with your staying over for the night to share breakfast as well.

One event after another you held firm and tried to keep as much of your lives together private while prying eyes did their best to dig for information. But as a christening bled into the long awaited wedding feeding the world pictures of Richard dressed to the nines at your side in your lavish gown peering down on your sleeping nephew even the worst of the haters felt that itch to see their favorite man remaining this blissfully entranced through all his long awaited milestones now quite possible with you. It was awkward, often a juggle but in all the whirlwind of chaos this fragile little love was yours and no one elses. A fact and belief of yours giving Richard hope that you could make it together.

Date to date you hopped and settling in together between roles had finally left you apart for your longest term to date. Three months without a single touch outside of your dreams and hand in hand you strolled on fire aching for more through this animal reserve in the middle of Australia, where it all began. A bashfully presented blindfold had you giggling yet accepting under the promise no pies would be thrown and under the aid of Richard’s hold on your shoulders you found a stone bench with a bowl shaped object in your palms instructed to rest on your lap. Your awkward giggle sounded as the blindfold was being untied to Richard’s low hum of, “Just a moment now.”

Wetting his lips he pulled it back and you giggled at the group of curious baby rhinos approaching you at the scent of the fruit balls in the bowl you held out for them. Easing off to the side Richard filmed you until the littlest of them in his head wiggles at something tied to his horn made him move closer for help. Curiously you eyed the ribbon tied to it you loosened then held up as he ran off to join the others in their playing, shifting the ribbon a curious grin eased onto your lips at the pink lotus ring dangling from the end of it.

“Rich, where do you-,” Turning your head you found him on his knee holding open a box. If he’d said anything you surely didn’t catch it as your gaze remained fixed on his frozen hopeful expression spreading into a massive smile at your odd nod when your mental scream to do so at a lack of words reducing you to physical gestures.

A tight hug later and his lips found yours in easing his ring on your finger to nuzzle his head against yours. Apparently an adorable gesture to the rhinos as when you looked down again the babies were all grouped up together peering up at you wide eyed making you both giggle. And stand at their nudges to guide you over to the pond they all proceeded to jump into splashing you both stirring more laughter in your turns to shield your faces until you were led out of the area for their being led into the larger clearing for the full crowds at the opening of the full exhibit.

Idiotic grins spread across your faces in your stroll through the other exhibits fueling the curious stares, two new rings and a picture of the adoring stares of the grouped up babied over the caption of ‘How could you say no?’ Rumors swirled and for as long as you could manage another secret was clung to cherished all the more in your shared wonder as to how the rest of your lives and the actual nuptials would unfold. For so many years you had been left to your own daydreams and from day one with Richard left you believing that anything was possible and sometimes your new reality wound up being stranger than any bit of fiction you’d ever seen.

#Richard Armitage x Reader OC

27 notes · View notes

whatwashernameagain · 5 years

Text

Keep him safe - Chapter 25

You can read the previous Chapters here: Ch 1, Ch 5, Ch 10, Ch 15, Ch 20, Previous Chapter, Ao3 Link, Lo’s, Pat’s and Virgil’s aesthetics, Fantasy AU You are Magical, I’m dying to be with you

Pairings: Logan/Patton, Roman/Virgil

Words: 8.095

Warnings: violence marked with ///////////////////////, sexual abuse marked with +++++++, blood, insults, self-hate, bad expectations of relationships, mentioned unhealthy weight loss, body insecurity

Summary: Detective Logan Sanders and his best friend and dorky partner Roman Prince have made a dear friend in the lovely pattisier Patton. Logan however feels a lot more than friendship for the sweet man, even though he knows he cannot possibly have him. Their routine is broken abruptly when Logan finds bruises on Patton’s fair skin and slender wrists he could hardly have received from his costumary clumsiness. Meanwhile his partner Roman has his own demon to fight, which comes in the form of a little delinquent who seemed to have been pulled into a street gang quite against his will. Roman is determined to help the strange young man. It would be so much easier though if he just stopped hissing at him!

Notes: I have nothing to say for myself. My betas @ultimate-queen-of-fandoms2 and @hanramz-the-fander are the best, I love all of you, please take care of yourself! And check out the art at the end of the chapter!

Chapter 25

A thunderous crash following a whoop of joy penetrated the peacefulness of the isolated office. Both Logan and Captain Holt ignored the sound with the stoic determination of men used to the shenanigans of Jake Peralta and Roman Prince respectively.

The aforementioned detective had survived a near encounter with a stray bullet that had (barely) grazed his ‘beautiful face’ and had therefore immediately enlisted both Roman and Gina to throw him a party fit for the miracle of his survival and his general good looks and heroism. Roman had instantly thrown himself into organizing a play fit for the epic tale and had begun roping in officers too slow to escape his enthusiasm. The young man who had been swooning over him the last few days had been delegated to raiding the lost-and-found box for costumes. Logan estimated that their Captain would permit them another 48 minutes of frivolous displays before returning the precinct to its proper state of professionalism, barring a certain margin of error in case the fire extinguisher should make an appearance once again of course. Roman had been drawing up rather disturbing images of fog and explosions. Understandably, both men had therefore chosen to hide from the undignified behavior behind the safety of the closed office door.

“Would you care for an unsalted, assorted mixture of nuts, Nicodemus?” The Captain’s pleasantly monotonous voice inquired politely. The lack of emotion displayed by the other man was just to Logan’s liking today. A song being pitched and a shirt hitting the glass door with a ‘thud’ behind him were stoically ignored.

The therapy rat in question squeaked in affirmation, curiously standing on its hind-legs to pay attention to their conversation. The choice of respectively one almond, peanut, walnut, hazelnut and pistachio kernel were laid out before it in an orderly row. Nicodemus grabbed the hazelnut with his little paws, before giving a polite squeak.

“A very sensible choice.” Holt commended. “In my opinion, the pistachio kernel is such a purposelessly showy nut. It is certainly nut the most nutritious nut, despite its… gaudy coloring.”

Trying and failing not to show a small smile at the bad pun and the following association, Logan responded, “Indeed.” Nicodemus hopped around the laid out object of their observations and gave the Captain an unobtrusive tap on the hand like Roman had taught him before selecting a walnut.

“Your therapy rat displays quite pleasing manners.”

“He certainly does. I would expect nothing less from a distinguished pet such as him.” Another crash rattled the office, followed by a wailing complaint. “Unlike other… pets I have been told I have apparently acquired.” Logan grumbled, thinking back of Remy calling Roman his pet. Preposterous.

Meanwhile, Roman had scaled the makeshift stage and was narrating ‘The Incredible Story of the Heroic Survival of the Amazing Jake Peralta’, starring Jake Peralta as Detective Peralta, among other ‘volunteers’.

“Just as our dramatic hero believed the day to be saved, evil rose from the shadows beyond!” Roman cried, narrating the event that had caused his colleague to tragically wear a colorful band aid over his brow from his perch on four pushed together desks. He was a grand storyteller, lovely and captivating, making his audience wait with baited breath for the next part of his masterfully orchestrated play as he held his pose. And held his pose.

Annoyed, he cleared his throat, his voice becoming slightly high pitched. “Evil rose from the shadows beyond!”

A bag of chips rustled among the waiting detectives. Roman keened in annoyance, feeling his theatrical genius slighted. This would not do, he was aiming for a tale worthy of Broadway producers here! Renewing his pose with passion, he screeched, “EVIL ROSE!”

With a sigh, Logan rose from his chair in the safety of adult company. “Would you please excuse me, I believe I am missing my cue.” Putting on a preposterous bowler hat stolen from evidence with very little enthusiasm, he slunk into the bullpen.

“Prepare to die, fiend!” He growled while stiffly waving around a spotted umbrella for ‘dramaturgical reasons’, incredulously wondering why on earth he was doing this. Roman’s face lit up with happiness.

***

‘My evil plans, foiled again!’ - Tesla, who wrote lines like those?! Logan’s face still burned at the memory of the acting he’d allowed his partner to talk him into, and in front of his colleagues no less. The things he’d uttered, just to make the childish detective happy. He had clearly softened and he blamed his partner. There would be no dessert tonight! As he’d escaped the precinct, Roman had just prepared to orchestrate a grand sequel. Clearly, the time for a strategic retreat had come. Patton’s company ought to be the safer one.

Yet, despite having come to a mutual agreement to accept the young man’s situation and remain friends, Logan felt ill prepared to enter the Pat-isserie. They might have spoken and hugged at the hospital, however he still feared the influence of the baker’s relationship on their daily interactions. Would he even be able to ignore what he knew was going on in his private life, pretend everything was alright and engage in shallow conversation like he had before? His emotions felt too powerful to treat the situation casually. Despite his cool exterior, Logan was an intense man. He did not know how to love someone halfway. He liked to pretend Roman was the one who followed him around, the one who depended on him, but had his partner not resisted his demanding attempts at taking him in, he would have had Roman under his wing in his flat within the first few months of their tentative friendship. He still only grudgingly accepted the fact that the other returned to his own apartment occasionally. Additionally, the fact that he had - there was no other way to describe it – adopted the little troublemaker Virgil the moment the younger man had shown weakness and caved to his aggressive attempts at caring for him made the truth Logan had tried hard to hide painfully apparent. He needed people to care for. By some stroke of luck Roman and Virgil, even Patton, still believed he was the composed one looking after all of them, the one in control they needed to rely on, but in reality he needed them so badly he felt lost and empty without them. Not being allowed to channel all of that protective anger and loving feelings left Logan a precariously balanced mess, threatening to tip and spill all of those unused, unwanted feelings all over their fragile relationship, suffocating it. Patton didn’t want the things he had to give. If he couldn’t manage to hold himself together, keep his intense longing and protective feelings as well as his anger and helplessness at bay, he’d be turned away. He’d understand it, too. His nerves in his throat, the tall detective evaded a swarm of laughing children holding sticky cupcakes in both hands and stepped into the cafe.

Warmth seeped into Patton so suddenly, it left him feeling lightheaded. Or perhaps it was the fact that he hadn’t eaten all day. He really wanted to look his best from now on, Trevor was not fond of the weight he tended to gain around his hips, and had also been too nervous to get much past the dizzying mix of hope and insecurity in his stomach. So much had happened. Despite the changes he and Trevor had agreed upon following the shocking conclusions he’d come to, seeing Logan was as pleasant as it usually was. He’d slipped through the door and had held it open for a bunch of escaping little ones, allowing them to pass by under his arm, drawing attention to how tall he was. He looked as handsome as ever in his tailored, dark blue suit and silken tie, pale skin contrasting attractively with his raven hair. He’d even brought Nicodemus, which Patton always loved. There was a sort of pride and confidence about the detective whenever he was accompanied by his littlest friend, which Patton found too adorable. The realization of how much he wanted their friendship to work hit him hard. Logan had never been supposed to know. He hadn’t wanted him to be a threat, or for him to see Patton this way. He hadn’t wanted to seem weak.

With both men held back by their own insecurities, finding common ground was hard. Upon facing each other, neither appeared to know how to begin their conversation. Noticing the dark shadows under the detective’s eyes, Patton found he knew what he wanted, though. He and Trevor finally had a real chance at a happy ending after all those years of making each other miserable, why shouldn’t it be possible for him and Logan to find a way to make things work? He’d just need a place to start, and he knew exactly the right one. Feeling a keen sense of Déjà-vu, he silently stepped up to the taller man, being squeaked at by a cheerful, gray rat. Like the first time they’d met, Logan was hard to read at first, closed off and a little intimidating. Yet, like all those months ago, Patton could see beyond the facade. Offering a soft smile, he allowed the other a moment to prepare before raising on his tiptoes and carefully wrapping his arms around his friend. Their embrace was less sure than it had become in the course of their relationship, influenced by the insecurity of their opposing interests as a cop opposed to a victim unwilling to let him protect him. As a result, the detective’s body felt stiff under his hands at first, his jaw tense, his gaze closed off. Patton was patient though. He knew for once there was nothing to say. He curled close, bringing their bodies into close contact, leaning his cheek against his shoulder and letting his affection speak for itself. Wanting to help the other relax, he made himself soft and warm, melting against the long lines of his body like a cat. Like a strange reversal of their first proper hug, finally, Logan softened under him, his breath leaving him with his fear, his arms finally coming up to embrace him properly instead of awkwardly resting on his sides. He needed to be held more than he’d known. Patton’s own nerves quieted, leaving a soothing calmness behind. The rise and fall of the other man’s chest against his gave him something to focus on that made everything else cease existing. As always, the patissier and detective found common ground in each others arms.

Having greeted Virgil and left his beloved Nicodemus with a purring and rolling kitten upstairs to nap, the detective got comfortable on his usual spot, reviewing case notes in his notebook and surreptitiously watching his friends for any signs of distress. Considering the things he now knew, a lump up bitter fear rose in his throat whenever he had the chance to think about the things Patton had to face alone. He worried, all day, every day. Try as he might, the spiraling thoughts stuck with him from the moment he woke with a nauseous feeling in his stomach to the moment he fell asleep. It haunted his dreams and made him wake up in a pool of sweat. He could not help remembering the things he’d seen in his line of work, the reports and statements of women and men abused by their partners, scarred physically and emotionally. They overlapped with reality whenever he looked up to see Patton twirl around, smile at a child or coo at Virgil. He was so soft, so tender and beautiful and easy to hurt. He swallowed and returned his gaze to the paper, trying and always failing to forget.

A weight settled next to him, clad in lavender wool and trailing wisps of flour.

“Logan?” Patton asked softly, pulling at the sleeve of his soft sweater.

“Yes, Patton?”

“I can hear you thinking all the way over there, would you like...”

Flushing hotly, the detective cast his gaze down, mortified at being so obvious. “I apologize.” He hastily cut in, making the other fall silent. “And also for interrupting you. I did not mean to be disrespectful.”

The smaller man smiled, the expression once again softening his face, making him very pretty indeed. “Oh, it’s okay. I just don’t want you to worry! I know your smart head is coming up with so many ideas, so it’s best we just talk about it, don’t you think?” He asked reasonably, settling down comfortably next to his fretting friend. The way he curled up made him small enough to easily fit against the other man’s side, had he wanted to.

“I just want you to know that I had a really great chat with Emile, he is such a delight and so clever and helpful! And I realized how much had been going wrong with the two of us – I guess you knew a lot about that, being a detective and really smart and all – so we talked, Trevor and I, and he agreed to go to couple’s therapy with me, anything I wanted, really, he is truly trying, Logan. It’s wonderful how far he’s come and how much better we understand our mutual fears and problems now. I feel like I know him so much better than I did before, we are much closer now. He wants this to work as much as I do and I really believe it will, so – please don’t look so concerned, I don’t want you to be afraid for me. It’ll be okay, I promise! This time, all will be well.” He implored, his hazel eyes wide and trustful, filled with hope. It made something sharp twist in Logan’s chest, deep down were he harbored so much warmth. He attempted a smile, wanting to preserve Patton’s hope. He couldn’t bear to see him hurt.

“I’m pleasantly surprised by your partner’s willingness to accommodate your wishes.” He uttered diplomatically. Patton, perceptive as he was, was onto him though.

“Then… why do you look so tense? Is everything okay?” He asked anxiously, fear making his stomach feel queasy. Swallowing down all the things he wished to say but had no right to felt like making a rock settle in his stomach.

“Yes, certainly.”

A moment ticked by where the baker observed his friend, his brow furrowed. He seemed to come to a decision. Taking Logan’s calloused hand in his and making the poor man blush dreadfully with nerves and longing, he took his time to find the right words. Knowing the shyness of the detective, he kept his eyes cast down so not to make him feel exposed.

“I know I had to push you away a few times to, um, to get to the point where I wouldn’t have to be afraid for… you respect my wishes, though. I believe that, and I need that from you, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be honest with each other. There has to be something good about everything being in the light now. I think we need to talk openly, so no fear and resentment is between us, and I trust you, Logan.” Finally looking up, he added quietly. “I want to hear what you think.”

The older man took a deep, fortifying breath, disarmed by the honest wish. Still, fear of overstepping and of hurting those hopeful feelings made him hesitant. He felt like a villain, uselessly destroying this belief that things could be better.

“I… don’t think it will work as you expect it to.”

Patton’s eyes widened, growing hurt and wet. As he almost unconsciously pulled his hand back into his lap, his posture changed immediately, making him seem smaller. Feeling his breath catch in his throat, Logan attempted to explain his position, to make it better somehow.

“Patton, I apologize for causing you distress. Since I am hardly an expert on relationships, you have no need to heed my authority. You must consider the things I have been confronted with in the course of my work. I may have grown cynical. I may be wrong.” It cut him to say those words he could not believe, but pushing his opinion on the other would only push him away. Steeling himself, he added his most vulnerable thought despite his fear of how much it might reveal about his feelings.

“And although I deeply admire your ability to trust in the best in any individual, I also do not believe somebody who hurt you deserves the privilege to be with you. You should be with someone who cherishes the right to be by your side. Someone who sees you as worthy of love and protection.”

Breathing out a sad sigh, Patton softened. “It’s hardly a privilege!” He chirped, trying hard to make light of the situation with humor. Logan didn’t take the bait though. His face remained serious and earnest.

“I believe it is.”

His seriousness made the patissier pause. He had no idea how to respond to the depth of emotion he felt behind the words. A twisting, aching sensation of longing came over him unbidden. This was not fair! They were doing better than they had in years, he could not ruin their chance with his stupid heart! He loved Trevor, he had no right to yearn to know what it might be like to be taken home and belong to a man who believed having him was a privilege. Why did it feel so possible right now when the chance was farther away than ever? For a wild moment, he imagined just reaching out and touching Logan’s face, touching him, and just giving himself over to what felt so real all of a sudden.

He was being ridiculous.

Logan was – he was unreachable, and not only because Patton had nothing to offer to him and was probably stupidly imagining impossible things. He’d made his choice long ago and had even recently renewed his promise. He’d be Trevor’s anchor, his protector and caregiver – his everything. The weigh was heavy, but he’d bear it.

Trying to take away his caring friend’s suffering, and to convey some of the hope he’d found, he promised, “This time it will work. Trust me.”

If only Logan could know how much progress he’d made in understanding their dynamic. How hard Trevor tried. So much had changed and for the first time in years, Patton dared to genuinely trust that things would be okay.

“I hope you are correct. I may not believe he deserves to be with you, but I could never want you to be hurt again.”

The detective never lowered his head or hunched his shoulders, but the tension and pain around his eyes and jaw was clear to see.

Logan’s selfless honesty almost broke Patton’s heart. He could see how much the man was torturing himself and he wanted nothing more than to ease his suffering. The detective clearly hated his relationship and hurt whenever Patton returned to Trevor. He’d seen it in the crushed looks, felt it in the worried and protective way he’d cradled him close. Yet he still let him go without a fuss, relinquishing his hold on him with obvious difficulty. He even wished him well. And Patton should be happy. He’d been so afraid of Logan, of his fury, his power, his ability to hurt and break and force Patton to comply with his wishes through the authority of his position. His terror had almost driven them apart for good. Now that the detective accepted his needs and supported his choices despite his pain and anger, he should feel nothing but relief. And yet, he was proving everything Trevor had said about him right. He was foolish and his heart was quick and stupid. Logan was giving him what he’d fought for. His freedom to make his own choices, the right to choose who to be with - and some part of Patton wished he hadn’t. Now that the older man had set him free, all unlikely chances, all unrealistic dreams of being with him had vanished. Before the patissier had made his choice clear to the detective, there had at least been some lingering hope that perhaps, Logan was pursuing him after all. His hugs had been an offer of safety. At times, his touches had felt like a slow seduction, caressing him with utter gentleness, holding him firmly enough to make him feel kept and protected. The way his deep voice had spoken his name had been filled with tenderness. He’d felt so valued.

His heart was heavy as he realized there was no going back. Logan was still here, still looking at him with this impossible softness, but he had stopped fighting him on his decision. A decision he could not back down from, Patton knew that. But at the same time, he deeply regretted the loss of the possible future Logan’s fierce demands and threats to Trevor had symbolized. While his wave of fury and his loss of control had terrified him, Patton knew they had been an offer of a way out, an offer at something new. Even a way to show his appreciation perhaps? Men fought for what they loved, didn’t they? Possibly, his aggression might have been a sign of a deeper interest? This sort of aggressiveness had always accompanied any relationship he’d known after all. Trevor was so unbalanced because he loved him so much and feared to lose him, wasn’t he? And Logan had been ready to tear down walls and break bones to grasp Patton and take him home, away from his boyfriend and the constant doubt and guilt.

And he knew, it would have broken them apart.

Patton could not live in another relationship where he feared control and violence, where his choices were taken from him and where people even got hurt for him. Trevor was different. He was his responsibility and he knew what to expect from him. He hadn’t been able to help it and he was making an effort now. Logan on the other hand was more than that. Had he refused Patton’s demands, he might have been able to tear him and Trevor apart and even take him with him – there would be no one else left to turn to after all, no place to go but where the older man led him, but their relationship would have been doomed from the start. He’d be restricted and intimidated and would live with the knowledge that his decisions would not be respected. Logan was better than that and Patton deeply, desperately needed him to stay that way. He knew, in his bones, that he needed Logan to remain as good and kind and strong as he was. Someone to trust and look up to. Someone who trusted Patton and respected him. His existence gave him strength. His heart broke at the realization finally truly sunk in. This meant he would never be with the man. He could not leave Trevor on his own volition – not now when they were fixing things – and Logan could not force him or tempt him away since Patton could never feel safe or respected with him if he did.

He swallowed hard, casting his gaze down. His eyes burned.

He was such a mess. Stupid, stupid Patton. He should be happy right now, not cry over impossible things. He’d gotten everything he’d wanted – Trevor, his friends, a hopeful future – and here he was, moping over something he was not going to get anyway. Logan was out of his reach and probably not interested in someone as untidy and disorganized and overly emotional as himself. He’d find a beautiful and successful doctor or lawyer and marry them and be free of all those issues. And Patton would be with Trevor and all would be well. Yes.

Nodding to convince himself, he bravely tried to bring his sunny smile back, brushing his curling hair back to give himself time to compose himself. He was ruining their perfectly wonderful afternoon with his moping!

“Thanks for worrying. I appreciate you being there.” As Patton whispered those words, his throat grew tight. He felt his affection so strongly all of a sudden, as if he’d never see the other man again. For a moment, he felt so terribly trapped and lonely, as if he was locking himself away from everything that mattered to him. There was a distance between them he became desperate to bridge lest he’d lose his chance. He just needed to be held, just for a moment. Unable to give fair warning this time, he threw himself into Logan’s arms, burrowing his face in his chest and simply holding on. The detective tensed in surprise, before bringing his arms up automatically. He was obviously confused and overwhelmed with the sudden intensity of the situation, judged by his stuttering breath, but he never disappointed Patton, pulling him close instead of speaking – perhaps because he was floundering about what to say – and pressing him against his chest just right. The slight patissier drew a shuddering breath, not understanding why he felt so desperately needy. He couldn’t be close enough. Appearing to feel his need on some level, Logan leaned back and allowed his friend to sprawl over his chest, half in his lap, until he couldn’t see anything but the darkness those arms enveloped him in, feel his warmth and breath and smell his cologne and soap. As he was held tightly and safely, slowly, the panicked feeling started so recede. The heavy weight of loss and sadness in his chest would not quite go away, but even so, Logan’s hold made it easier to gain strength, to remember the good things. He was not losing his friend, he was right here. How silly he was! And most importantly, he loved Trevor. He really, truly did. Held safely, it was not impossible to remember how his boyfriend looked when Patton had made him truly happy. The image of his smiling face, the eyes crinkling at the corners, the little laugh, it made his heart swell. His joy brought Patton so much pleasure, he wanted to see more of it. He wanted him to be happy and he wanted to be with him in good times again. He looked forward to it. With new strength, he pulled back, smiling unconsciously at the memory of Trevor’s face lit up with honest laughter.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, grateful to the befuddled detective for offering his care without asking questions about his strange moods. Spurred by his hopefully swelling heart, filled with so much love and expectations for a bright future, he leaned up and kissed his detective’s cheek sweetly.

Drawing back, a flash of reddish blond caught his gaze in the window.

///////////////////////

The image of the two of them burned him whenever he closed his eyes, he’d never felt pain like this before, like it cut into him like a physical thing, making him flinch and curl around his wounded chest. For some reason, his thoughts were stuck on a random detail, so small in comparison to the devastating picture that had hit him like a slap in the face - the height difference between them seemed to circle around in his brain, stuck like a splinter he kept picking at until the skin bled, tiny and insignificant, but impossible to ignore, setting his nerves on fire and infecting him with red hot agony. He was tall.

Taller than him.

He’d looked so tiny in his arms.

His hands looked so big on him.

Proprietary.

Patton slipped through the door into their apartment Trevor had fled into just as it was about to fall shut, out of breath, his face ashen with horror. He stumbled over the tidy row of shoes in his haste, tumbling against the wall clumsily. He’d followed Trevor home as fast as his legs would carry him, terror making his heart thunder and his breath come in short pants. Raising his hands in a placating gesture, he tried to speak – tried to lie.

Trevor wouldn’t hear it again. He cut him off, expecting to sound loud, angry – yet his own voice sounded nothing like he intended, it was a shock to him, small, shaking, begging.

“What was that?! Why did you tell me- I thought – you said you’d be with me – you promised you wouldn’t – and with him -” He gasped, quivering. He could see nothing but Patton in the tall man’s arms. He’d been as good looking as he’d feared, composed and elegant and so much – too much to hope to compete with – he’d always known Patton would find someone better, someone who didn’t lose control again and again and again no matter how hard he tried, and he’d tried, every time he’d hated himself. And the other - he was just like he’d imagined him, countless times, taking Patton away, his large hands on his boyfriend’s hips. A wave of despair overwhelmed him. How could he go on now? He couldn’t lose the only thing that mattered – the worst thing wasn’t the touch – the loss, though.

“Why did you make me think we could fix –“ He gasped, bis sight blurry. “You- you made me th-think I could be good enough, I t-tried so hard, I – I tried – I always try-” He screeched suddenly. He knew what he had been doing, he hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but his temper, his anger, he just felt so weak and overwhelmed, sometimes he just couldn’t- but Patton had made him believe, he’d been so ready to try everything – but even as he’d made him hope, Patton had already moved on. He hadn’t even let him show him. He’d chosen something better.

He’d been in his arms. He’d kissed him. He’d reassured Trevor, looked him in the eye and said he loved him and then he’d gone straight to him. Why had he made him hope? Why would he torture him like that – play him like that?! It was so cruel. Did he think – was this a joke to him?!

The thought hooked into his mind like a claw, piercing deep, drawing hot, gushing blood. The powerful, seething, crimson tide rose in Trevor’s chest, higher and mightier with every thought of his failure, his loss, the betrayal. Furious anger swallowed him up like a wave of boiling, lashing water. The detective, he’d been after his boyfriend from the start – Trevor had known it. He’d avoided the cafe unconsciously, had known it would take Patton from him, had known he’d meet someone, even though he’d promised – he was overwhelmed, helpless, furious, he’d made his promise to make everything well just the night before. He’d thought it meant the world. A renewal, a way to finally be healthy and happy. He was a weary, so brittle, he’d wanted to believe it so badly. Patton had looked so earnest. They’d kissed, touched – he’d believed things would be well, trusted him with his life, didn’t he know how much Trevor had given to him, how much he needed-

But Patton hadn’t cared.

The wave rose. He was untethered. He was pulled under.

Carefully, Patton approached him and he lunged, backhanded the whore right across the face. A cry echoed across the vast, empty room. The crash of a body hitting the floor fueled something primal in him. The door slammed shut and he was onto his prey, his tormentor – the man who’d promised him everything and had ripped it all apart. The man he couldn’t live without. The man that had hurt him so much, so much. He was losing his hold, he felt hot humiliation burn in his veins, sizzling desperation. He’d been made a fool, Patton had never wanted to fix them, he’d laughed at him with the detective – he’d never been good enough. Everything was falling apart, the pieces were slipping from his fingers, he was so helpless, being bashed and pulled by his own conflicting emotions, he couldn’t survive without him, his everything, his Patton - who felt like he was better, who’d gone behind his back after giving him hope, he had betrayed him-

He grabbed Patton by the shoulder – so thin under his brutal hand, yanked him up - his whimper made blood and adrenalin flood his head, high pitched, grating. He couldn’t bear to hear it, so loud, too much, he hated – he needed to silence him.

Unseeing fury drove his fist into his victim’s stomach, making him cough and retch. Patton fell to the floor hard, his knees buckling uselessly under him. It wasn’t enough. His fist was driven down on him again, beating, ripping, destroying.

He couldn’t breathe, black spots appeared before his vision. A fist to the side of his head smashed him down hard, making blackness consume him for a shocking moment. Blood spilled from his split lip. The pain in his skull almost split him in half – he was disoriented – he needed to tell him – but his tongue wouldn’t work – everything was spinning, fear choking him with his thunderous heartbeats, he tried to bring his arms up to shield himself but he couldn’t see, everything was blurring, where was Trevor?

A crash, shattering glass – so loud in his ringing ears it seemed to shake the apartment made him flinch. Something cut his raised arm like a whip, spilling sticky liquid over his skin, his throat closed up around the explanation, the apologies – he needed to – his mouth filled with blood, his stomach turned sharply-

Another slap cut his lip, a sharp pain traveled up his ankle, he choked up blood from where he’d cut the inside of his cheek on his teeth, how could he have let it come to this?! Trevor’s face was twisted with nothing but agony, red and raw like a gruesome mask, so very easy to recognize for Patton, who was so familiar with the pain, the guilt, the fear clawing up his spine, consuming him in a primal flash of terror.

His fists were shaking, his breath coming in uneven gasps. For a sudden moment, he was able to see through the haze of rage.

Patton’s small form lay crumbled on the floor, holding quivering hands up uselessly to protect himself. Blood dripped down his arm, his lip.

His voice shook. It was barely above a whisper. Pleading.

“Please, you promised.”

His narrow, bruised chest was heaving with the effort to breathe, his hazel eyes wide and terrified, bitter tears mixing with the blood running from his split lip. He sounded broken.

Worse. He did not sound surprised.

It was a punch in the gut. He had never believed Trevor could do it- his failure had always been expected. He was everything that gave Trevor strength, everything he had to hold onto, and he’d never trusted him in the first place. All he’d done was make him think there was a chance, make him hope, and then crush him with the knowledge of his pathetic deficiency.

The blood on Patton’s face made his heart thunder, making him pulse with anger hate failure, bright crimson, accusing him, he’d failed again, it made guilt and humiliation twist and intertwine with the rage, the feeling of defeat, of falling into a hole after waking up from his madness, seeing the effect of his loss of control, his babe, broken and ugly, smeared with blood, dragging himself up, looking at him with fear, forgiving him again, he always had to forgive him he couldn’t do it right, the water in the bathroom turning red as he washed the traces of Trevor’s failure off his body with shaking, cut hands. Trevor hated the detective for being so good, so smart and successful and unreachable, for being superior, too much to hope to compete with, he felt small and useless, insignificant and helpless and angry at him for making Patton turn from him, making him feel this way, for making him do this again – for failing again – he’d thought he’d controlled it now, he’d been strong, he’d protected his babe from himself and now he’d made him lose his hold, it was all in vane, he was nothing, and Patton had drawn this onto himself, why had he made him fail, why hadn’t he seen how hard he’d tried, he’d turned it around, he’d done better, HE’D FIXED IT and he still went back to this other who was better the whore he didn’t want him he hated Patton he hated HIMSELF.

He’d deserved this.

Half crazed, Trevor grabbed a brutal fist full of the patissier’s hair, yanking him up on his knees before him. He needed to regain control, assert his strength somehow, his anger drove him to grow hotter, wilder-

He’d asked for this.

+++++++

His trembling fingers fumbled with his belt, his fly, the smaller man cried out, his heart racing, frantically trying to pull away, ripping out bloody strands of hair.

No, please not again! Patton vividly remembered the only time Trevor had lost control to his anger so badly, still tasted bitterness on his tongue whenever he recalled the terrible night. It had been their worst one yet, he’d been so mad, forcing Patton onto his knees, spitting insults and self-loathing, prying his jaw open with ruthless hands. Patton had been paralyzed by horror, disbelieving of what was to come. He’d never thought Trevor would do something so terrible to him, he’d never – but he’d forced his cock into his mouth with one thrust, shoving Patton forward by the hand in his hair, making him take him all the way, way too far. Shock had frozen him for long, agonizing seconds, before his body had rebelled with revulsion and terror. He had scrambled against the unforgiving hold, unable to breathe, panic flooding him. Trevor had been mad with rage, brutally thrusting into him, calling him a slut, a whore, a monster, forcing his way into the smaller man’s throat, making his choke, making him retch. Bile had filled his mouth, lack of air making him thrash and cough, fighting to breathe, fighting for his very life. Trevor had only pulled back long enough to make him cough, gasp, before he’d yanked him back, twisting his hands in the weaker man’s hair, making him take it till he was finished. Once he’d come down his throat, he’d dropped Patton as if he were something rotten, disgusting and vile. As if Patton were dirty. He’d never forgotten the look. It still haunted him at odd moments, made him flush with shame and humiliation. He’d never stopped feeling it. As he’d lain on the cold tiles, bitter vomit and semen running down his chin and mixing with the blood in his mouth, right before he passed out in the dirt smeared over his face and chest, he’d felt like he deserved to be looked at this way.

Terrified, hot tears ran down his cheeks as Trevor yanked his face up by the fist twisted in his locks. He tried to plead, to beg. He couldn’t survive this again, he couldn’t.

“No, please, please I can’t, you promised, you said you’d never make me-”

“SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH YOU LYING WHORE!”

Trevor screamed, shaking Patton so hard by the hair it made his teeth clash together painfully. The taller man heaved, tears falling onto the bloody face beneath him. His own was twisted into a reddened, horrid mask of fury and anguish. His mouth had turned into an ugly grimace, caught between a snarl and a sob. He managed to undo his fly, fumbled with his underwear-

++++++++

A crash echoed through the apartment like a gunshot, shockingly loud. It left both men deafened for a long, horrifying moment.

Blearily, Trevor looked up from the body at his feet. The realization came a few heartbeats too late. A fist crashed into his face with the force of a freight train, making him drop like a leaden weight.

It had been a gunshot.

The projectile had shattered the lock of their front-door, making it afford no protection against the kick that almost ripped it off its hinges. Only his extensive training had made the detective punch the attacker instead of shooting him on sight. Had he had time to process the picture he’d seen, he might have murdered the man in cold blood, leaving nothing but a shredded corpse. The moment he found Patton crumbling to the floor however, nothing else mattered to the detective. Flooded with a cold horror he had never experienced before, he sunk to the ground in front of him.

/////////////////

Patton.

Oh Patton.

His hands shook at the sight before him, his breath coming in a sob. Oh no.

He reached out, impossibly horrified-

Patton flinched, crying out and shielding himself. His ears were ringing, the shot had been so loud. It did not matter that no one was touching him, he was trapped, his heart raced so hard, it felt like it would give out, he choked on phantom touches, lightheaded and frozen. Knowing he could not fight, he could not get away, he curled up, hiding his face in his bleeding arms, waiting for whatever he’d be put through in blind terror.

He was so cold.

He did not know how long he lay there, quivering and crying, waiting for the violence he’d been so sure he’d never have to endure again, until finally, a sound cut through the blood rushing in his ears. A sob. Someone else was crying.

Looking up went against all of his hard learned instincts of making himself small and invisible.

He needed seconds to understand what he was seeing.

Logan was kneeling before him, tears streaming down his face. His clean, lovely hands were twisted tightly around each other, shaking as badly as Patton was. His eyes… there were no words to describe how shattered he looked. The patissier whimpered, strenuously drawing himself up.

“L-Logan?”

The detective tried to speak, his voice breaking. He had to start again, visibly fighting the urge to touch Patton, to envelop him in his arms and pick him up from the hard, white tiles smeared with blood.

Logan felt utterly helpless. Patton’s eyes were so wide, so hurt. Another sob threatened to break free from the confines of the detective’s chest. He felt half numb, half tortured. For a long moment, he could barely make sense of how terribly Patton had been treated. The sheer cruelty felt impossible.

He realized he did not know what to say.

Patton appeared disoriented, shock settling in and making his thin limbs quiver like leaves in the wind. He was so tense and tiny, his breaths coming in uneven gasps – but quiet, like he was trying hard not to be noticed. His strength seemed to leave him suddenly, threatening to make his arms give out and make him fall. Logan reached out on instinct to steady him. A frightened gasp and flinch made him freeze. He was too large, too close. The detective fumbled to find words he knew would fall short.

“Patton, I-I would never harm you. You are safe now.” The detective’s deep, unsteady voice pleaded with him to trust him. His hands were raised in a placating gesture, open and non-threatening, tears dripping down his chin. Patton could not look away for a long, fearful moment. Trevor’s hands had been balled into fists, veins and tendons staining against the bones, the skin broken at the knuckles. Terror flooded him once again, gripping him like a mouse pierced by an eagle’s claws. The patissier scooted back, his breath hitching. His right hand braced itself on broken glass, driving the shards into his palm. Logan’s eyes burned, horror and anguish flooding his voice.

“Wait, please – you don’t need to fear me! I am so sorry, I did not meant to frighten you, I only – I only want to help you.” He almost whimpered, feeling utterly helpless. “I would never touch you without your consent, I- I will stay right here, alright?”

Patton nodded, unconsciously drawing his wounded hand into his lap. It was full of glass shards cutting his soft skin. It hurt Logan to see it like nothing he’d ever felt before. Think, you useless fool, he berated himself. He wished Virgil and Roman were here.

“You are cold, may I get you a blanket?” He asked carefully, fearful of doing anything Patton couldn’t place. The detective did not like how long it took the baker to answer with another nod. He wondered if he even heard him. The urge to hold him became almost unbearable. Thankfully, he found a blanket draped over the back of the leather couch, stiff with how little it had been moved. He sank back on his knees before the injured creature.

“Patton, may I put this around your shoulders? Please?” Upon receiving another nod, he approached the other slowly, uselessly wishing he were less frightening, he were better at this, that he could just fix everything. Patton clenched his teeth as Logan leaned close to wrap the blanket around him like it was something he was forced to endure, as if a wild animal were about to tear into him if he moved too much. He was trapped by a man’s closeness and his memories.

“There you go, Patton. It will be alright. May I help warm you? I swear I will leave the moment you tell me to.” Logan attempted to assure him, having no idea whether his physical reassurance would help or make things worse. At this point, Patton’s nod felt less like agreement than learned behavior in traumatic situations. Logan didn’t know if he could trust it, didn’t know what to do, so he carefully, as slowly and gently as he was able, pulled the patissier against his side, hugging him loosely.

“I am so sorry.” He cried, his tears falling on bloody curls.

“It’s fine.” Patton mumbled hoarsely, breaking Logan’s heart. Yet the warmth and familiar hold seemed to thaw something in the younger victim. He started breathing more deeply, slowly leaning against the detective. He was coming back to him. And with it, the realization that this was all his fault. All of his blood, his cut skin and bruised body, Trevor had inflicted the pain he’d himself felt, because Patton had made him hope where there was none. Instead of cutting his losses, he had tried to make everything right that was broken so far past repair. He’d believed all of the promises as if he didn’t know better. He was so foolish, so stupid. Too stupid to fix them. Somehow, the worst thing was that just minutes ago, he’d told Logan to trust him. That things would be alright. He’d believed it. He was so ashamed.

Feeling tiny and ugly and so stupid, he sobbed, burying his face in Logan’s arms. He was here. He held on to him, rocking him gently and shielding him from the world. Patton found himself in his lap as he realized the cold had stopped seeping into him from the tiled floor. His hand was cradling his neck, his arm supporting his back, holding him entirely. Patton’s strength left him.

At least, as he sunk into the hold unresistingly, his frazzled nerves tortuously slowly realizing he was safe, the truth about Trevor started to sink in. He would never change.

It was over.

The thought triggered a pressing memory in his sluggish mind. Trevor? Icy fear came with it. He’d come to feel so safe in Logan’s arms, like his protection and Trevor’s threats could not exist in the same world, but they did. They were in the same room. He flinched, whimpering silently. Where-

Through tears and blood clouding his vision, he spotted a prone form crumbled on the ground behind the man holding him. He shrank back, shocked.

“Oh n-no Trevor- d-did you – is he...”

“No! Of course not, he will recover, I merely incapacitated him. I promise.” Logan assured him hastily, seeing terror of the effect of his violent intervention seep into the broken young man before him. “I am so sorry you had to see this, Patton.”

It seemed to be the last straw for the patissier. He was simply overwhelmed.

“Logan.” His voice broke on an unworded plea. Yet, the detective understood without having to be told.

“Please, let me take you home.” He whispered.

After a long moment, Patton nodded. As carefully as if he were cradling a newborn kitten, Logan bundled the injured young man into the blanket and lifted him into his arms. Glass crunched under his shoes as he carried him outside, hiding his tear stained face from the shocked neighbors finally daring to enter the hallway. Patton heard none of it. He pressed his face to Logan’s chest and closed his eyes.

ART:

@dweeborg created this gorgeous combination of Roman with stunning makeup and Virgil with his lovely hair, as well as a (shirtless, yum) picture of Virgil feeling good after his spa day.

How cute is Logan with Nicodemus on his shoulder?! Painted by @lienlovesshadowhunters

@doctorwhooian drew Roman being absolutely STUNNING in a crop-top and knee-high boots.

A personal favorite: @typical-torii gifted us with a drawing of RoRo having his locks combed to the side, looking bad-ass after a fight. He’s so fricking pretty like that!

A picture I absolutely LOVE – Roman glittering and lovely with a super cute man-bun giving Virgil inappropriate feelings, their expressions are just so utterly adorable and the raccoon in judging. Thanks a thousand times to @anxiously-chill

Next Chapter

#Keep him safe #Detective Logan #Detective Roman #baker Patton #delinquent Virgil #Prinxiety #Logicality

227 notes · View notes

eddycurrents · 5 years

Photo

For the week of 2 September 2019

Quick Bits:

Agents of Atlas #2 again seems to focus more on Amadeus Cho and his perspective than the rest of the team, but it’s still very entertaining. Greg Pak, Nico Leon, Pop Mhan, Federico Blee, and Joe Sabino continue to weave together intrigue, superhero action, and romance with a very interesting mystery evolving.

| Published by Marvel

Animosity #23 is part one of “Rites of Passage” from Marguerite Bennett, Elton Thomasi, Roberto De Latorre, Rob Schwager, and Taylor Esposito. While Jesse and her caravan continue to try to make it out west, her animal friends attempt to plan for her upcoming 13th birthday. Wonderful character moments here and further insight into the horrors that the animals have seen.

| Published by AfterShock

Battlepug #1 brings the web comic to regular monthly print comics from Mike Norton, Allen Passalaqua, and Crank! While it does help to have read the previous adventures, you can pick up and enjoy this humorous take on sword and sorcery fairly easily. Some very nice humour in the “Covfefe” puppet.

| Published by Image

Berserker Unbound #2 is another wonderful issue from Jeff Lemire, Mike Deodato Jr., Frank Martin, and Steve Wands. The art alone from Deodato and Martin is wonderful, deftly mixing the modern and the archaic. It’s also very interesting to see the barbarian trying to navigate our strange modern world and the fact that he can’t understand anything that anyone is saying.

| Published by Dark Horse

Birthright #39 gives us the confrontation with Mastema. Learning that she’s pretty much thoroughly insane and that the entire two worlds are screwed. At least, from her perspective. The colour work here from Adriano Lucas is positively brilliant.

| Published by Image / Skybound

Breaklands #1 is a Comixology digital original from Justin Jordan, Tyasseta, Sarah Stern, and Rachel Deering. It’s different, bloody, and intriguing as to what’s going on. The opening suggests a kind of weird cult, the past gives the impression of post-apocalyptic tribes or gangs.

| Published by Justin Jordan

Buffy the Vampire Slayer #8 is a prelude to the “Hellmouth” crossover event with Angel, but I’ll say that it is essential to the overall storyline. This issue basically sets up the entire thing, even while still doing prologuey things. Great art from David López and Raúl Angulo. And, despite what Angel (at least that’s who I assume is in that devil mask) and Xander say, the “bat” costume is great, even if it doesn’t make sense.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

Conan the Barbarian #9 takes us on a trip through Conan’s hallucinations of monsters he felled in battle as he tries to lead a group of people caught underground in the lair of the Undergod. Incredibly impressive artwork from Mahmud Asrar and Matthew Wilson. As we get a bit of reminiscence here, it feels as though we’re approaching the end of this arc.

| Published by Marvel

Crowded #9 is pretty intense as Vita and Charlie breach a hotel and try to get the information on who set up the Reapr campaign from one of Charlie’s old “friends”. It goes about as well as you’d expect. Christopher Sebela, Ro Stein, Ted Brandt, Tríona Farrell, and Cardinal Rae continue to keep this story on its toes, speeding along as fast as it can.

| Published by Image

Dark Red #6 begins the next arc from Tim Seeley, Corin Howell, Mark Englert, and Carlos Mangual. It tosses more complications into Chip’s life in the form of a “cleaner” enthralled to another vampire and a family of were-jaguars fleeing from an El Salvadoran gang.

| Published by AfterShock

DCeased: A Good Day to Die #1 expands the story a bit further with this one shot featuring a reunion of some of the Bwa-Ha-Ha era of the Justice League and a few other guests. Great art from Laura Braga, Darick Robertson, Richard Friend, Trevor Scott, and Rain Beredo.

| Published by DC Comics

Deathstroke #47 continues “Deathstroke RIP” and it’s going to do your head in a bit. A banged, bruised, beaten-up, and confused Slade shows up with a bad attitude and we’re unsure how he’s back from the dead and acting fairly un-Slade-like. Also, Jericho gets his Doctor Manhattan moment. Priest, Fernando Pasarin, Carlo Pagulayan, Jason Paz, Cam Smith, Wade von Grawbadger, Jeromy Cox, and Willie Schubert are definitely continuing to keep this interesting.

| Published by DC Comics

Die #7 catches up with the other half of the party in Isabelle and Chuck and, well, Chuck is an asshole. Kieron Gillen, Stephanie Hans, and Clayton Cowles manage to out-bleak the previous issue, but in a way that doesn’t elicit sympathy this time. It’s interesting as to how they build up Chuck, elaborate on his backstory, and make him even more thoroughly unlikeable.

| Published by Image

Doom Patrol: Weight of the Worlds #3 is fairly impressive, with Gerard Way, Jeremy Lambert, Steve Orlando, Doc Shaner, Tamra Bonvillain, and Simon Bowland managing to become even more inventive with the narrative for an already incredibly inventive series. This one takes the convention of a flashforward and presents it as an issue of Doom Patrol in the future, weaving in some hard-boiled narration through a series of novels. Great work here all around.

| Published by DC Comics / Young Animal

Everything #1 is weird. Very weird. This first issue from Christopher Cantwell, INJ Culbard, and Steve Wands feels like it’s mostly about setting up the atmosphere and briefly introducing many of the characters as the new Everything Store opens up in Michigan. Love the art from Culbard.

| Published by Dark Horse / Berger Books

Fallen World #5 concludes what has been an excellent series setting up the next stage of the 4002 AD time period of the Valiant universe from Dan Abnett, Adam Pollina, Ulises Arreola, and Jeff Powell. The art from Pollina and Arreola is gorgeous, really leaning hard into the weird and wonderful of the future.

| Published by Valiant

Fantastic Four #14 kicks off “Point of Origin” celebrating the initial launch of the Fantastic Four’s expedition that turned them into the Fantastic Four. The shifting timeline makes this feel weird, but it’s still an interesting premise. Great art from Paco Medina and Jesus Aburtov.

| Published by Marvel

Future Foundation #2 is more fun from Jeremy Whitley, Will Robson, Paco Diaz, Daniele Orlandini, Greg Menzie, Chris O’Halloran, and Joe Caramagna. Why exactly the kids would mistake a younger looking Maker as their own Reed Richards is anyone’s guess, but this is still an entertaining prison break story building upon loose threads from Secret Wars.

| Published by Marvel

Ghost Spider Annual #1 continues the “Acts of Evil” theme running through this year’s annuals as Gwen takes on Arcade and a host of Spider-Man’s villains and allies. It’s a good story from Vita Ayala, Pere Pérez, Rachelle Rosenberg, and Clayton Cowles that helps Gwen get a sense of place when it comes to some of the differences between Earths-65 and -616/

| Published by Marvel

Giant Days #54 is the end to the series, but there’s one more issue in the story in the Giant Days: As Time Goes By special. Still, John Allison, Max Sarin, Whitney Cogar, and Jim Campbell gives us one last hurrah as Daisy, Esther, and Susan spend the summer together before graduation, tying up some loose ends, before saying goodbye to one another. It’s an emotional end, full of the eccentricities and humour that have been a hallmark of the series.

| Published by Boom Entertainment / BOOM! Box

The Green Lantern #11 continues the multiversal adventure. This is really some of the fun, eccentric science fiction-y superheroics that Grant Morrison really excels at along with gorgeous artwork from Liam Sharp and Steve Oliff. I quite like Sharp’s Neal Adams-esque Batman GL and it’s neat to see the Green Lantern oath’s differences across multiple universes.

| Published by DC Comics

Harley Quinn #65 kind of does an end run around the “Year of the Villain” content, incorporating it as a couple pages of the comic within the comic, while the rest of the issue is devoted to Harley dealing with the grief of the loss of her mother. By kind of ignoring it. Escaping to the Coney Island Volcano Island and getting a bit...rustic. Sam Humphries, Sami Basri, Hi-Fi, and Dave Sharpe also keep Harley’s trials going along nicely.

| Published by DC Comics

Harley Quinn & Poison Ivy #1 follows up on Poison Ivy’s new status after regrowing herself from the death sustained in Heroes in Crisis. Now, I can’t say I exactly liked that series or what happened, but I do think that Jody Houser, Adriano Melo, Mark Morales, Hi-Fi, and Gabriela Downie make the most of it and turn it around into an entertaining start to this new story. Also, a nice pick up on both the broader “Year of the Villain” event (even though there’s no event banner) and on the new developments in Justice League Dark about the Parliament of Flowers and the Floronic Man.

| Published by DC Comics

Immortal Hulk #23 brings the fight to Fortean. It’s absolutely brutal on both sides. Joe Bennett, Ruy José, Belardino Brabo, Paul Mounts, and Matt Milla really do an incredible job with the action here. And the end is stuff of nightmares.

| Published by Marvel

Justice League #31 continues the “Justice/Doom War”. It’s very, very nice to see the Justice Society back in the mainline DC universe. Combined with the Legion of Super-Heroes back, it’s a wonderful time to see these two teams back. Feels good. It also helps that Scott Snyder, James Tynion IV, Jorge Jimenez, Alejandro Sanchez, and Tom Napolitano have JSA nestled within a great story, flinging the Justice League through the past and future.

| Published by DC Comics

Lois Lane #3 is worth it for the art from Mike Perkins and Paul Mounts by itself. The fight between the two Questions is incredible, beautiful flow of action and energy all through the exchange. Also, we get some follow up on Superman protecting Lois adding complications. There could be an argument made that this story is unfolding at roughly a snail’s pace, but that would overlook the wonderful character moments occurring, the atmosphere, and epic action sequences.

| Published by DC Comics

Midnight Vista #1 is a wonderful start to this story from Eliot Rahal, Clara Meath, Mark Englert, and Taylor Esposito. It’s an alien abduction story told pretty much straight and its intriguing as to how the disbelievers in this tale are going to deal with, even amid the very real kidnapping and lost time that occurs. I love Meath’s line art here.

| Published by AfterShock

No One Left to Fight #3 hits hard a couple times, first in Winda’s decidedly horrible way of handling rejection and jealousy and then in the Hierophant’s temptation of rebuilding Valé, fixing what ails him. More great work from Aubrey Sitterson, Fico Ossio, Raciel Avila, and Taylor Esposito. This book is a feast.

| Published by Dark Horse

Pretty Deadly: The Rat #1 is a very welcome return of this series, shifting time frame again to ‘30s Los Angeles and adopting a noir style. The artwork from Emma Rios and Jordie Bellaire is drop dead gorgeous, seemingly coming up with new styles and approaches to storytelling. The film stills in particular are very impressive.

| Published by Image

Savage Avengers #5 brings a bloody and brutal “end” to the first arc from Gerry Duggan, Mike Deodato Jr., Frank Martin, and Travis Lanham. It’s not so much a conclusion as a chapter break, ending the bit with the Marrow God, but transitioning into whatever will come next in the war against Kulan Gath.

| Published by Marvel

Sea of Stars #3 is another showcase for Stephen Green and Rico Renzi to just illustrate the hell out of some really cool stuff. This one shifts primary focus back to Kadyn and his interstellar entourage and it’s hilarious. The kid does kid things that drive his space monkey and space whale friends insane. Especially taunting a quarkshark.

| Published by Image

Something is Killing the Children #1 begins a rather disquieting horror series from James Tynion IV, Werther Dell’Edera, Miquel Muerto, and AndWorld Design. It’s brutal, bloody, and filled with all of the terror that you get from a frightened kid who just watched his friends get butchered. This is a visceral horror that punches you right in the gut. Very well done.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

Spawn #300 is not a bad anniversary issue, a fairly hefty book featuring a lead “chapter” with gorgeous artwork from returning long term Spawn line artist Greg Capullo, kicking off with something disturbing, then leading into a combination of the story threads that Todd McFarlane has been weaving for some time now. While there is a foundation on the old, this one also sets up a fair amount of what’s coming. Great art throughout from Todd McFarlane, Greg Capullo, J. Scott Campbell, Jason Shawn Alexander, Jerome Opeña, Jonathan Glapion, FCO Plascencia, Brian Haberlin, Peter Steigerwald, and Matt Hollingsworth.

| Published by Image

Star Wars: Jedi Fallen Order - Dark Temple #1 is a tie in to the forthcoming video game from Electronic Arts by Matthew Rosenberg, Paolo Villanelli, Arif Prianto, and Joe Sabino. It centres around a padawan who somehow managed to escape Order 66 on a recently-joined Republic world of Ontotho and the mystery of a temple that she was sent to investigate.

| Published by Marvel

Supergirl #33 concludes Kara’s quest and “The House of El: United”, giving her perspective on the founding of the United Planets in Superman #14. It’s a decent end here, opening up new possibilities for what we’ll see next.

| Published by DC Comics

Triage #1 is a very impressive debut from Phillip Sevy and Frank Cvetkovic. Interesting set up of variations on the same woman, Evie, across multiple worlds, and a mystery as to what’s going on. Sevy’s art here is gorgeous.

| Published by Dark Horse

Usagi Yojimbo #4 begins a new two-part arc in “The Hero” as Usagi agrees to escort an author caught in a controlling, loveless marriage to her father. There’s a really nice opening sequence in this one with zombies.

| Published by IDW

Vampirella/Red Sonja #1 is a pretty good start to this series from Jordie Bellaire, Drew Moss, Rebecca Nalty, and Becca Carey. It’s set in 1969 and built around the Dyatlov Pass Incident, which sends Vampirella out there to investigate to potentially find a “friend”. Beautiful art from Moss and Nalty.

| Published by Dynamite

Web of Black Widow #1 is wonderful. Stephen Mooney was born to draw espionage thrillers, having done so incredibly on his own Half Past Danger as well as The Dead Hand and James Bond 007. He has a style that reminds me of Dave Stevens and it just works perfectly for this kind of story. Add to that Jody Houser, Tríona Farrell, and Cory Petit, throw in a mystery born out of Natasha’s past and continued questioning her own status as her since she was brought back from death, and you’ve got a recipe for a near perfect storm of a debut.

| Published by Marvel

Wyrd #4 concludes what has been an intriguing series from Curt Pires, Antonio Fuso, Stefano Simeone, and Micah Myers. This has been a rather interesting story of superpowers seemingly gone wrong and it ties up with a Superman analogue as a child going homicidal. It’s dark, but it feels real.

| Published by Dark Horse

Other Highlights: Absolute Carnage: Scream #2, Absolute Carnage: Symbiote Spider-Man #1, Alpha Flight: True North #1, Amazing Spider-Man: Going Big #1, Archie #707, Batman/TMNT III #5, Champions #9, Charlie’s Angels vs. Bionic Woman #3, Curse Words #24, The Death-Defying Devil #2, Descendent #5, The Dreaming #13, The Goon #6, House of X #4, Legion of Super-Heroes: Millennium #1, Marvel Action: Spider-Man #8, Nuclear Winter - Volume 3, Old Man Quill #9, The Punisher #15, Redneck #23, Rick and Morty Present Flesh Curtains #1, Section Zero #6, Space Bandits #3, Star Trek: Discovery - Aftermath #1, Star Wars #71, Superman: Up in the Sky #3, Transformers/Ghostbusters #4, Turok #5, The Wicked + The Divine #45

Recommended Collections: Age of X-Man: Prisoner X, Black Badge - Volume 2, Catwoman - Volume 2: Far From Gotham, Hellboy and the BPRD: 1956, Immortal Hulk - Volume 4: Abomination, Infinite Dark - Volume 2, Outcast - Volume 7, Spider-Gwen: Ghost Spider - Volume 2: Impossible Year, Superb - Volume 4: The Kids aren’t Alright, War of the Realms: New Agents of Atlas, X-Force - Volume 2: Counterfeit King

d. emerson eddy is currently suffering the effects of a very gassy pug.

#This Week in Comics

4 notes · View notes

the-irrelevant-trumpeter · 1 year

Text

OKAY JUST HAD A THOUGHT ON THE CORNLEY TIMELINE DILEMMA

what if cornley performed peter pan a couple of years before the filmed version for the bbc? just like mischief, what if it was a production they did earlier, closer to haversham manor, and after winning the community choice award, they decided to go perform an abridged version of it? then the gaps for trevor, annie and max are less drastic, and it also allows for characters such as francis beaumont, who was taken out of the filmed show so that david suchet could be in it. obviously the events of “peter pan goes wrong” don’t happen every single night they perform it (same with the play that goes wrong, the events of that were just on opening night), so those exact events just happen in the filmed version.

i’m not sure what year i’d place tptgw or ppgw in. as @personinthepalace pointed out, tptgw premiered in 2012, so that could be when it was in the cornleyverse, but trevor said he’d been stage manager for 5 years in 2016, which would place it in 2011. i suppose i could say that trevor just exaggerated the 4 years as 5, but idk. if we do place haversham manor as 2012, that would logically place the original peter pan production in 2013 (aka when ppgw premiered) but idk if they’d choose a play they did 3 years ago for their bbc opportunity.

it also raises a couple of questions about the filmed show. the first one i’m thinking of is why max would ask if he could play peter when he had already played michael and the crocodile in the original production (unless in the cornleyverse they reused the old audio from the original show, but i think that’s unlikely, as that audio surely would have accidentally been played before). but then again, maybe he thought that since it had been a couple of years, they might be open to casting changes? idk, happy to hear thoughts on this?

#i think i’m on to something tbh #also i decided to start a new post instead of continuing to reblog additions onto the first one

4 notes · View notes

douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years

Text

WHAT STARTUPS TO GET STARTUP FUNDING

I heard this, I thought, the world. You could conceivably lose half your brain and live. Result: if it can't contain exciting sales pitches, spam becomes less effective as a marketing vehicle, and fewer businesses want to use. You need to be software for making them, so we decided to write some software, it might be a good startup is the percentage chance it's Google. I remember sitting in the living room of an apartment, and a game much closer to the one played in the real world, it's generally for some common purpose, and the number of nonspam and spam messages respectively. 5, or that can incorporate live data feeds, or that you've done something inappropriate. They got in fights and played tricks on one another. An essayist needs the resistance of the plate.

I calculate as follows: continuation 0. Arthur Miller wrote, but looking back I have often wished I'd had the temperament to do an absurd comedy, which is not an all or nothing thing like a series A round in which a single VC fund or occasionally two invested $1-5 million. A startup's life will be easier, cheaper, more mobile, more reliable, and often more powerful than desktop software. It works well for Google and ITA, which are the most general of general principles. But the more you realize you can do things to influence the outcome. The early adopters will be driven ever further apart. Arbitrarily declaring such a border would have constrained our design choices.

We'll suppose our group of founders know what they're doing, you'll be denounced as a yellowist will just be a distraction.1 Bill Gates will of course come to mind first will be the rule with Web-based software is never going to shut me up. Imitating it was like trying to run through waist-deep water. Richard Stallman, or Linus Torvalds, or Alan Kay, or someone writes a particularly interesting article, it will be for the better.2 Someone responsible for three of the best things Google has done. Telling me that I didn't want to have too much to do with the prisoners as possible, so they can tell when someone copies them. If you have any opinions that you would want to put their name on. But, like us, they don't use sentences any more complex than they do when talking about what to do if you are yourself a programmer, and one outside person acceptable to both.

If there's one thing all startups have in common is the extreme difficulty of making them work on anything they don't want to see what focus overlooks. 99 and, say, approach offers as in this approach offers having a probability of. No one except the owner of a piece of software that's full of bugs. A rookie on a football team doesn't resent the skill of the veteran; he hopes to be like the alcohol produced by fermentation. So if you're a quiet, law-abiding citizen most of the talking, but he described his co-founder of Excite.3 They will have to design software so that it can easily kill you. Plus as a consulting company initially, because we were so desperate for users that we'd offer to build merchants' sites for them if their firm invested in a company they discovered. In startups one person may have to do licensing deals, or get shelf space in retail stores, or grovel to have your own computer. What you need to win. Being smart seems to make you unpopular. I suddenly found myself working for a big company, they were the keepers of the knowledge of vaguer, buglike things, like features that confused users.4

Which is of course an extremely incriminating sign, except in the mail of a few sysadmins. Well, they are more afraid of you than you are of them, you won't just have fewer great hackers, you'll have no trouble with the small trips outside the box that they'd make people's hair stand on end, you'll have no trouble with the small trips outside the box that they'd make people's hair stand on end, you'll have zero. An improved algorithm is described in Better Bayesian Filtering. It was presumably many thousands of years between when people first started describing things as hot or cold and when someone asked what is heat? An advantage of consulting, as a deal progresses, to start to believe that stricter laws would decrease spam. Perhaps the best policy is to make more than you actually are. Good hackers find it unbearable to use bad tools. But it could. Just make stuff and put it online. Have low expectations.

Say what you're doing, and b explain why users will want it. That idea is almost as old as the web. It's a lot easier for a couple of 20 year old hackers who are too naive to be intimidated by the idea. Just a few months, until blown out of the system you're dealing with, things probably either already are or could easily become much worse than they seem. Don't let rejections pile up as a depressing, undifferentiated heap. Bigger companies solve the problem at all, it means you don't need Microsoft on the client, and a great many configuration files and settings. Every designer's ears perk up at the mention of that game, because it's no worse than lots of others.

Honestly, Sam is, along with Steve Jobs, the founder I refer to most when I'm advising startups.5 They were designed to be a good thing: if your society has no variation in productivity.6 Will I ever read it? And if they're driven to such empty forms of complaint, that means you've probably done something good.7 In fact they tend to spend all their time doing that. Another approach is to follow the case of contemporary authors. The reason they were funding all those laughable startups during the late 90s was that they hoped to sell through it. But there's a magic in small things that goes beyond such rational explanations. Server problems were the big no-no for us, the premise was, and we'll give you a way to keep tabs on industry trends than as a way to turn a billion dollar industry into a fifty million dollar industry, so much the day to day management. In the process of talking to them all can bring a startup to write desktop software now you do it on Microsoft's terms, calling their APIs and working around their buggy OS.

At Viaweb, support was free, because we wanted to know. The archaeological work being mostly done, it implied that those studying the classics were, if not beyond the bounds of possibility, is beyond the scope of this article. Google is going to beat them. So who are the great hackers? This is why the worst cases of bullying happen with groups. Imagine a kind of suggestion box, because users only used it when the predefined page styles couldn't do what they want.8 So I inverted the 5 regrets, yielding a list of all the great programmers I can think of who don't work for Sun, on Java, I know of only one who would voluntarily program in Java. At most software companies, most code had one definite owner.

Notes

The same reason I say the raison d'etre of prep schools supplied the same as they are bleeding cash really fast.

Spices are also startlingly popular on pre-money valuation of an investment. But if idea clashes got bad enough, a lot of money around is never something people treat casually.

Several people I talked to mentioned how much of it. Fortuna! But I think the main emotion I've observed; but it might be tempted to ignore these clauses, because the remedy was to realize that. As well as good as Apple's just by hiring sufficiently qualified designers.

One YC founder told me: Another approach would be worth about 30 billion. That may require asking, because you have no idea how much of the War on Drugs. Incidentally, the growth rate as evolutionary pressure is such a discovery. Founders rightly dislike the sort of person who understands how to appeal to space aliens, but we are only partially driven by the high score thrown out seemed the more corrupt the rulers.

If they really need a meeting, then they're not. You should always get a poem published in The New Yorker.

For similar reasons, including the numbers we have to pass so slowly for them, but explain that's what we now call science. Francis James Child, who probably knows more about hunter gatherers I strongly recommend Elizabeth Marshall Thomas's The Harmless People and The CRM114 Discriminator. At the seed stage our valuation was in a band, or an electric power grid than without, real estate development, you can make better chairs or knives, crucibles or church organs, than anybody else, you better be sure you do. These range from make-believe, is not work too hard to say about these: I should add that none of your identity.

How to Make Wealth when I was a test of success for a patent is now replicated all over the internet. A few VCs have an edge over Silicon Valley is no richer if it's not the sense that if you agree prep schools improve kids' admissions prospects. If a man has good corn or wood, or because they are bleeding cash really fast.

Trevor Blackwell, who may have been truer to the company's present or potential future business belongs to them this way, be forthright with investors.

Thanks to Eric Raymond, Geoff Ralston, Rajat Suri, Sam Altman, Jon Levy, Fred Wilson, Jessica Livingston, Sarah Harlin, and Ross Boucher for smelling so good.

1 note · View note

iimaginedragons · 6 years

Text

blog entry #5 -- oln concert

hi everyone, i know i’ve been a shitty blogger by never posting, y’know, actual blog entries, but hey. i’m here now and i’ve got something awesome to talk about.

just this morning i was still in montréal after one of the coolest, most energetic, most unique experiences of my life. i returned to ottawa early this morning, feeling half dead with exhaustion, but beyond happy. thanks to my incredible friend who got me and another friend early tickets with a free meet and greet, i got to meet and see the incredible band our last night play an awesome set in the small, loud, and jam-packed venue of théâtre corona.

if you’re a fan of post-hardcore music, our last night is the epitome of this genre (at least, they’re up there with a day to remember). with the perfect balance of screaming and singing (and songs with varying degrees of each) and a totally unique energy to their performances, they are literally perfect and i highly recommend everyone to check them out. everything from “age of ignorance” and onwards is mostly post-hardcore and excellent.

our last night’s older stuff has been classified as more metalcore and screamo (their albums “the ghosts among us” and “we will all evolve”, which i know little about) and although screamo is not really my thing, i’d like to think that i recognize a talented band when i hear it, so if you like this genre, i recommend you check these albums out as well (don’t get too attached though - they don’t play anything older than “age of ignorance” live).

our last night has four members, whose names i only really memorized yesterday (i’ve known of them for about two years now, but only really became a big fan a few months ago). trevor is the screamer and co-lead singer, along with his older brother matt, who has a slightly higher but very similar voice; hearing the difference between the two can be hard (in fact, i didn’t know certain parts were matt’s until i saw it live in front of me), but for music nerds like me who enjoy analysing songs, it’s a fun exercise. woody, a really cool vegan yogi, plays bass, and tim handles the drums.

one things that made this experience absolutely amazing actually happened before we even got to the show. as my two friends and i were walking down the street and about to enter into a pub, we saw trevor, tim, and two of their stage managers walking down the street in front of us, looking around at the restaurants. out of total shock, we jumped into the pub we weren’t even sure we wanted to go into, and just as we sat down at a table, barely catching our breaths, in came trevor and tim.

both of my friends and i are painfully shy, and so we sat quietly freaking out for our entire meal while half of our last night casually ate the same food as us about two tables away. we wanted to go see trevor, but felt bad bothering him while he was eating. thankfully, he clued in to the fact that we knew him (i’m pretty sure we were not sneaky in how we stared at him a lot yikes) and came over to talk to us and take pictures.

it was honestly one of the coolest things that had ever happened to me. when we saw him again later at the meet and greet, he remembered us and made a point to ask us about our meal, about montréal, etc.; overall, he is just such a kind and genuine person, as is woody who we met as well. they both made a point come down near us and smile at us several times during the show. even though we didn’t get to talk to matt or tim, i wouldn’t be surprised if they were just as kind, honest, and overall just real and good people.

personally, i had never been to a post-hardcore concert before, and the energy was awesome and different from anything i had ever lived before. as an eighteen year old girl who does not exactly look very threatening, i have to say i felt a little out of place in the middle of a mosh pit, but hey, i’m always willing to try new things.

trevor’s screaming was even better live than i could have hoped for, and his singing was also great. matt did awesome as well despite being a little sharp on some parts. the band’s stage presence and energy was so raw and powerful, and it was by far the most adrenaline-packed concert i have ever been to. if i had one word for this band, i think it’d just be “badass”, because nothing describes them so fucking well.

if you ever have a chance to see our last night live - which you should, because they tour quite often - please do so. they play small venues and rarely charge over 40$ canadian (after extra fees and often with free meet and greets if you book them online early enough) despite the fact that they could, and they’re honestly so worth it. it’s the best “bang for my buck” purchase that i have ever made.

one more thing: this band’s lyrics have helped me through a lot - in their music, they address everything from structural societal problems, to issues of power, dominance, and control, to mental health crises, to big questions about life and happiness, to persistent feelings of guilt and anger towards others and yourself, to relationship difficulties, and so much more. trevor and matt are genius lyricists.

prepare to see lots of our last night lyrics on your dash for the next little while, because i’m totally obsessed, and i will be for a while.

#our last night #live #concert #blog entry #text

1 note · View note

thechasefiles · 4 years

Text

The Chase Files Daily Newscap 2/6/2020

Good Morning #realdreamchasers! Here is your daily news cap Tuesday 2md June, 2020. There is a lot to read and digest so take your time. Remember you can read full articles via Barbados Government Information Service (BGIS), Barbados Today (BT), or by purchasing a Daily Nation Newspaper (DN).

SECONDARY SCHOOLS REOPENING ON JUNE 8 TO FACILITATE SBAS, CVQS – The Ministry of Education, Technological and Vocational Training (METVT) has advised parents and guardians that permission has been granted for secondary schools to reopen from Monday, June 8. This is to allow students of CXC classes who have not completed their School Based Assessments (SBAs) and Internal Assessments for Caribbean Vocational Qualifications (CVQs) to do so. Protocols for the Safe Reopening of Schools have been devised and shared with all schools. These Protocols have been developed in collaboration with the Ministry of Health and Wellness, teachers’ unions and principals’ associations. Officers from the Ministry of Health and Wellness and the METVT will be visiting secondary schools with other stakeholders between June 2 and June 5, to ensure that all agreed protocols are in place. Similar visits will be made to primary schools before the scheduled return of Class Four students on Monday, June 15. For these sessions, secondary school principals are expected to organise schedules for half-day sessions to minimise the number of persons on the school plant at any one time and also to allow for adequate sanitising of classrooms. Secondary school students will be contacted by their teachers for the days and times that they are to attend school. During this week, information will continue to be shared through public service announcements with students, parents and guardians on the expectations for a safe return to school. (BGIS)

SCHOOL PROTOCOL SURPRISE FOR BUT –The Barbados Union Of Teachers (BUT) says it has been taken by surprise by a recent document circulating on social media regarding protocols for the reopening of schools to accommodate Class 4 and senior secondary school students. General secretary Herbert Gittens told the DAILY NATION yesterday that while the union had not been able to ascertain as yet if the document was indeed released by the Ministry of Education, any publication of protocols at this stage would essentially be a circumvention of the consultation process. Parliamentary Secretary in the Ministry of Education, Senator Dr Rommel Springer, confirmed last night that the document was authentic. It was also published on the Barbados Government Information Service’s website yesterday. Springer declined to comment further regarding whether there was an expectation of further consultation with the unions. (DN)

TEACHERS GET DEEPER INSIGHT INTO BOSS – Members of the Barbados Union of Teachers (BUT) were given deeper insight into how the proposed Barbados Optional Savings Scheme (BOSS) would work, as educators began the process of mulling over whether they would participate in Government’s plan to create fiscal space. Yesterday, more than 500 teachers met with Government’s senior economic advisor, Dr Kevin Greenidge, via Zoom, where teachers were able to ventilate concerns about the plan, which entails public workers agreeing to take a percentage of their salaries in bonds. The robust discourse ranged from concerns regarding the procedures for opting in and out of the programme to guarantees that investors would receive their monies once the bonds matured in four years. Teachers were especially mindful that during the debt restructuring in 2018 by the Mia Amor Mottley administration, bondholders took a haircut and they were worried about a repeat of history. (DN)

POWER CUTS TRIGGER LOW WATER PRESSURE AND OUTAGES –The Barbados Water Authority (BWA) wishes to inform the public that due to Barbados Light and Power Company Ltd (BLPC) outages at several of its pumping stations during the night, pumping from the facilities was ceased temporarily. By this morning, Monday, June 1, pumping resumed at all locations, however, this stoppage has impacted customers in some districts. The Apes Hill facility cannot operate at present due to low reservoir levels. While our other twelve (12) stations are currently back online, customers shall this morning and into the early afternoon be experiencing low water pressure or outages. Please note that it takes time for the water pressure to build and for normal supply to be restored. The Authority is also reminding everyone that today June 1 marks the official start of the Hurricane Season. You are therefore reminded that you must commence the storage of water to assist yourself and your family at this time. As usual, we reiterate five gallons per person, per day, per household for a minimum of five days or as much as your household requires. The Water Authority’s reduced fleet of water tankers from 11 to seven shall continue to assist residents of any areas suffering an outage as a temporary measure. Please be guided accordingly. (BT)

MARRIAGE LICENCE APPLICATIONS BY APPOINTMENT ONLY - The Ministry of Home Affairs advises members of the public that an appointment system is now in place for persons applying for marriage licences. Persons should call 536-7260 between 8:15 a.m. and 4:30 p.m., Mondays to Fridays, to schedule an appointment. (BGIS)

PREPARE FOR HURRICANE SEASON – COVID-19 or not, prepare for the hurricane season! That is the strong advice of Minister of Home Affairs, Edmund Hinkson, as he urged residents to prepare for what is being predicted as an above average season this year. He made this appeal as he addressed a press conference hosted by the Department of Emergency Management (DEM) to mark the start of the 2020 Atlantic Hurricane Season at the General Post Office on Cheapside, St. Michael on Saturday. Director of the DEM, Kerry Hinds; Acting Director of the Barbados Meteorological Services, Sabu Best; and Acting Chief Medical Officer in the Ministry of Health and Wellness, Dr Anton Best, also supported the call for preparedness as they addressed the press conference which was streamed live. Hinkson said that as the official June 1 start of the season drew nearer, the reality was that Barbados would be dealing with two threats – that of COVID-19 and of a potential natural disaster. However, he stated: “We in Barbados cannot just lay down and say that we are not preparing, that we do not have the financial or economic resources now that 40 000 plus more of our people are without a job, and have sought relief from Government financially, either in the form of unemployment benefits, welfare, [from the] Mitigation Unit. We have to prepare. “We have no choice but to do our best as a country, at the level of Government, which we are doing. We will continue to encourage our communities, our families and our individual persons to prepare for any eventuality in terms of the possibility of the advent of hurricanes affecting Barbados and the wider region this year.” At the level of Government, the Minister said various departments came together for planning sessions which examined all possible preparations for a hurricane or severe weather system confronting the island. These preparations, he said, included clearing gullies; increased generational capacity for water and electrical supplies; improving the physical infrastructure of hurricane shelters, improvements in the early warning system to give earlier notifications to Barbadians of any system that may be coming; strengthening of the District Emergency Organisations and the signing of Memorandums of Understanding with retailers for the supply of food in the aftermath of disaster. But, Hinkson warned, efforts at the government level could come to naught if there was no preparation or planning at the individual, community, family, and household level. “Therefore, the overriding message here this morning…is that we as a people have to prepare,” he maintained. The Home Affairs Minister urged residents to have their personal plans which addressed issues of potential flooding, a place of shelter in case an evacuation is needed and a plan of action to care for the elderly or disabled. He also urged persons to have adequate insurance for their homes where possible. (BGIS)

NO CHANGE IN NUMBER OF COVID CASES – None of the 37 people tested for COVID-19 yesterday was positive for the virus. Confirmed cases therefore remain at 92 – 49 females and 43 males. No one will be released from isolation today so the number of recoveries remains at 76 and those in isolation at nine. Seven people have died. The Best-dos Santos Public Health Laboratory conducted a total of 5 471 tests as of yesterday. (BGIS)

TREES FALL IN LAND BATTLE – Controversy continues over ownership of a section of land at Carlisle Bay, Bay Street, St Michael. For the past five months, Government and developer Allan Kinch, director of Savoy Development (Barbados) Inc., who purchased three parcels of land for $4 million from the Barbados Tourism Investment Inc. last year, have been involved in a dispute about the rightful owner of the property. Yesterday, Minister of the Environment and National Beautification Trevor Prescod told the NATION that several trees were “illegally” planted on the beach and had to be removed. Prescod said he was informed over the weekend that the trees were erected and after checking with other Government departments, he realised no authorisation had been given for them to be planted. (DN)

NEW CHILD JUSTICE BILL TO GO BEFORE CABINET - A new Child Justice Bill that will change the way children are handled by the justice system is now set to go before Cabinet in the very near future. Once it is approved, children will no longer face charges for status offences such as wandering and will only be confined at a penal institution for serious offences. Furthermore, the Child Care Board will have a more significant role to play in child protection on the island. These are among a suite of recommendations that were given the green light by the Ministerial Sub-committee established to oversee the drafting of, and to recommend implementation policies relating to the new Bill. The meeting was held jointly at the Office of the Attorney General in Wildey, St. Michael and via Zoom last week. Chair of the meeting, Minister of Home Affairs, Edmund Hinkson, outlined that the new Bill would also see more diversion tactics being used to keep youth out of prison; a stronger role for the Probation Department in the process; an increase of the age of criminal responsibility from 11 to 12; alternative-based sentencing; more emphasis on parental responsibility and the removal of statue offences such as wandering. The process could also see the possible renaming of the Government Industrial School, the establishment of a Child Justice Board, an Assessment Centre, and the development of a modern Child Care Protection Policy and accompanying legislation. “We are also working on an Alternatives Prison paper for presentation before the Cabinet which would include a stronger focus on community sentencing,” he revealed. The Minister explained that while the Penal System Reform Act, enacted over two decades ago, spoke to this measure, there were some aspects that were still yet to be implemented. Hinkson underscored the importance of introducing the new measures to Barbados, noting that the country was among the last jurisdictions in CARICOM to implement a modern regime to govern the way matters relating to juveniles who come into conflict with the justice system and who need protection, are addressed. He, however, noted that circumstance presented Barbados with the opportunity to learn from the challenges which its neighbours encountered in implementing new policy and legislative dictates to make the necessary adjustments. The Minister also gave the undertaking that Government will further engage the relevant agencies in relation to how the new Bill will be rolled out going forward. Hinkson also stressed the need for a communications strategy, since these legislative changes will bring about a significant cultural shift in Barbados in the way children are dealt with by the justice system. This was supported by Minister of Information, Broadcasting and Public Affairs, Senator Lucille Moe, who noted that any communication strategies developed would have to be done with a COVID-19 environment in mind and making use of all online platforms. Also present at the meeting were Attorney General and Minister of Legal Affairs, Dale Marshall; Minister of People Empowerment and Elder Affairs, Cynthia Forde; Minister of Youth and Community Empowerment, Adrian Forde; and Minister of Education, Santia Bradshaw. Representatives from state agencies involved in juvenile justice and care and protection, including the Government Industrial School, the Probation Department, the Barbados Prison Service, the Royal Barbados Police Force, the Child Care Board, the Community Legal Services Department, the Director of Public Prosecutions, the National Council on Substance Abuse, the Youth Affairs Division and the Ministry of Health and Wellness, were also in attendance. A representative from UNICEF, the agency responsible for commissioning the process, also attended. (BT)

BAJANS IN UK TO COME HOME – Several Barbadians stuck in London during the height of the COVID-19 pandemic are reportedly scheduled to return to Bridgetown this week on a special flight. Barbados TODAY understands that at least one of a British government-led chartered flight bound for Barbados to repatriate its nationals who are here back home, would be coming on Wednesday with the Barbadians. While the UK government is responsible for the flights to take its citizens home, the Barbados High Commission in London and the Barbados authorities have been able to get access to those flights on route to Barbados so Barbadians wanting to come home could do so. The flight is scheduled to leave London on the morning of June 3. It was not immediately clear how many passengers would be on the flight. The Barbadians wanting to make the flight from London to Bridgetown had to seek permission from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and they have received the greenlight based on humanitarian grounds. They will also be responsible for their “special” one-way fares. Efforts to reach a representative of the Barbados High Commission in London were unsuccessful. However, a message informing Barbadians in London of the development has been confirmed by Barbados TODAY. “The Barbados High Commission at London is pleased to announce that it has been successful in negotiating access to seats on a British Airways charter to Barbados, leaving London on Wednesday June 3, 2020 at 11:20 a.m.,” the message stated. Listing the agencies and contact information, it pointed out that British Airways had “instituted special one-way fares which are exclusively available through four agencies”. Calling on the anxious Bajans in London who are interested in being repatriated, the note asked that they contact one of the travel agents as soon as possible. “We understand the anxieties that you may have experienced in the uncertain COVID-19 environment and wish you an enjoyable journey home, while urging you to stay safe,” it read. Individuals have been receiving their ticket confirmation for the flight. It is expected that upon return to the island, the Barbadians will be quarantined. (BT)

DOCTORS SAY FLOYD’S DEATH WAS A HOMICIDE – Two doctors who carried out an independent autopsy of George Floyd, the black man whose death in Minneapolis police custody last week triggered nationwide protests, said on Monday that he died from asphyxiation and that his death was a homicide. The doctors also said Floyd had no underlying medical conditions that contributed to his death. That contradicts the initial findings of the official autopsy by the Hennepin County Medical Examiner. It said there was no evidence of “traumatic” strangulation and also said coronary artery disease and hypertension also likely contributed to his death. The county’s full autopsy report has not yet been released. “The evidence is consistent with mechanical asphyxia as cause of death and homicide as manner of death,” said Dr Allecia Wilson, one of the two doctors who performed an independent autopsy, who is the director of autopsy and forensic services at the University of Michigan. Dr Michael Baden, who also took part in the independent autopsy at the behest of Floyd’s family, said he agreed with Wilson’s findings and that the death was a homicide. Baden added that “the autopsy shows that Mr Floyd had no underlying medical problems that caused or contributed to his death”. Baden has worked on several high-profile cases, including the 2014 death of Eric Garner, a black man who died after being choked by police in New York City. It was not just the knee to Floyd’s neck that killed him, Baden said, but also the pressure that two other officers were applying to Floyd’s back that cut off oxygen from flowing in or out of his lungs. Attorney Ben Crump, who is representing Floyd’s family, said the family wants first-degree murder charges lodged against all four officers who were at the scene – and they want the violent protests that has wracked the United States to end. “George died because he needed a breath, a breath of air,” Crump said. “I implore you all to join his family in taking a breath – taking a breath for justice, taking a breath for peace, taking a breath for our country and more importantly taking a breath for George.” (Reuters)

JUNE DECLARED NATIONAL CARIBBEAN-AMERICAN HERITAGE MONTH IN US - United States President Donald Trump has declared June, National Caribbean-American Heritage Month, saying that Caribbean Americans have contributed to the success, spirit, and character of the country. “For generations, their skills, knowledge, innovation and initiative have enhanced and advanced many aspects of our society,” said Trump in a White House proclamation, adding “during National Caribbean-American Heritage Month, we celebrate the rich history and vibrant culture of the more than four million Americans with origins in the Caribbean”. Trump said Caribbean Americans have helped improve America by leading communities, advancing science and medicine, and advocating for the common good. “We are especially grateful for the Caribbean-American men and women who proudly wear our nation’s uniform as members of the Armed Forces and those serving as first responders, medical professionals and other essential personnel on the front lines in the fight against the coronavirus,” he said, adding that the United States is “safer, stronger and healthier because of their service and sacrifices”. The US President also said that Caribbean Americans have left “indelible marks on American culture,” stating that Roberto Clemente, a native of Puerto Rico and legendary baseball player, is one of “many shining examples”. He said Clemente not only had “a stunning Hall of Fame baseball career but he also dutifully served our nation as a member of the United States Marine Corps Reserve for six years and served others throughout his life with profound care and compassion. “Like so many other Caribbean Americans, he continues to inspire us today and remind us of the strong connection the United States will always have with the Caribbean region,” Trump said. He said the United States is also the primary trading partner for the Caribbean nations “that make up our nation’s ‘third border. “My administration is dedicated to maintaining and strengthening our partnerships within the Caribbean regions, which are forged through bonds of friendship, diplomacy and a shared commitment to democratic principles. “We will continue strategic engagement in the areas of human rights, maritime security, crime prevention and interdiction, education, health, energy, economic growth, and disaster recovery and relief,” he added. Trump said stability in the Caribbean, achieved through increased trade, job creation and investment, and efforts to counter organised crime and illicit trafficking, ensures a more secure, prosperous United States. “This month, we pay tribute to Caribbean Americans for all they have done to drive our country forward. Now, therefore, I, Donald J. Trump, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and the laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim June 2020 as National Caribbean-American Heritage Month,” he said. Trump urged all Americans to join in celebrating the history, culture and achievements of Caribbean Americans “with appropriate ceremonies and activities”. (DN)

The world is facing the rapid spread of the Covid-19 Coronavirus Pandemic. As we continue to do our part in Barbados please remember to stay home but on the days you have to go out wear your masks, practice social distancing (stand 6-10 feet away from each other), practice good daily hygiene, eat healthy, exercise and keep your mind active. There are 213 days left in the year Shalom! Follow us on Twitter, Facebook & Instagram for your daily news. #thechasefiles #dailynewscaps #bajannewscaps #newsinanutshell #coronavirusinbarbados #nationalresponse #dailynews #thechasefilesblog

0 notes

shamelessly4shameless-blog · 7 years

Text

Nickovich (pt 5)

Ian’s feet seem to know where he’s going before he has even fully decided to go there. It feels as inevitable as floating in a slightly stagnant pool amongst the autumn leaves. As inevitable as stepping from a stage to kiss his lover under the beams of fifty flashing strobe lights whilst the music insisted he make his move. As inevitable as fingers grasping tight around shelving in the freezer a convenience store as two boys fall just a little bit in love.

The track is dusty and the hems of his uniform pants are turning a dusky yellow as his heels kick it up. The bleachers loom ahead and Ian braces himself for whatever might come next. The last time he saw Mickey he had inked himself with that stupid fucking misspelling of Ian’s name and looked tired, sad and ill – it had been as if Mickey was mirroring what Ian felt on the inside but projecting it across his skin. It had been awful. It had been cowardly not to go back, but Ian just could not face seeing him that way and eventually he had convinced himself that he was just trying to move on until the white lie became a black hole. He had been able to crawl into it and hide there until the cops told him Mikhailo Alexandr Milkovich had escaped, then the universe got swallowed.

Ian slows his step a little and then stops, taking a few calming breaths. Mickey might just want to have one last fistfight to settle the matter of Ian’s absenteeism and if so then fine, Ian could use the rush of it and the release because he has far too many emotions swirling around. If fists can say ‘I miss you’, ‘I’m sorry’ ‘I love you’ then Ian will have to hope he can make the language work.

Mickey sees Ian coming and smiles to himself. He is relieved, nervous as Hell, but relieved. He is also pleased that Ian knows exactly where ‘their spot’ is. It would have sucked if he had got that wrong, like the good times had meant nothing too.

Mickey runs a hand lightly over his hair and smooths the fabric of his stolen shirt. It is a bit small on him. He is skinny but what is left is mostly muscle and his shoulders and chest are a bit bulkier than they used to be.

He pulses his front teeth against his bottom lip a few times, as Ian draws to a stop and closes his eyes. If he turns around and walks away now, Mickey is probably going to chase him down and beat the living shit out of him. It would be a really terrible way to end things but he means to have his hands on Ian Gallagher at least once more in his life one way or another and he is almost too strung out to care how.

However, Ian is not walking away, he is blinking into the sunlight and striding forward, faster now, all set chin and creased brow. Determined.

Mickey snorts to himself and squares his own shoulders. They are both as ready as they are ever going to be.

There are often moments in life that get misplaced in the large pockets of other, seemingly more significant moments. Then, after a suitable period of time and consideration, they are unearthed.

It is what makes detective novels such a thrill – the footprint, barely mentioned, was the greatest clue of all! A-Ha!

It is when these little pocket-moments stay hidden that life can veer off course. When people miss the clues, forget the mirrored reflections and don’t check the background of photographs.

Often in romantic attachments, these oversights spell disaster. Other times they are the only reason a semblance of love survives at all. It is nearly impossible to tell what the outcome will be until the pocket is emptied and the truths are all laid bare. An explosion or a whimper? An embrace or a rejection? A life or a death? Who can ever know? However, without looking, would there be any point to continuing anyway?

Here is what happens when the pocket of moments Ian had carried around with him is roughly shaken and dumped before his waking eyes into the sand beneath the striped light of the bleachers.

In four pumping heartbeats, a raw emotion he had forgotten the pull of, rushes back into his veins, crashing over his better judgement like white rapids over ancient rock.

His senses overload, scramble, and refuse to synchronise correctly.

He sees dimples appear beside a perfect smile and his lips tingle as if pressed against the tiny indentations.

He tastes the faint tang of sweat as he remembers the touch of work-roughened fingertips.

He hears the soft voice and smells the scent of home in the abrasive, tough-guy mid-western drawl.

He sees the sky reflected in tired blue eyes and despite the brilliant day above, somehow the depths of those irises are more real than any vista Ian has ever known.

For Mickey, the opposite is true. His senses align completely. The tiny details he has ruminated on for nearly twelve months, committing to memory, storing away for the years ahead like a small burrowing creature carefully hoarding the food it needs to survive, suddenly zoom outwards and he takes in the whole with a feeling like being plunged into icy water to break a deadly fever. It burns his skin but relieves his mind.

Mickey loses sight of individual strands of gold and cinnamon, seeing instead the flaming perfection of Ian’s hair as his cowlick blows forward in the breeze.

He slips away from the tiny scar that puckers the edge of Ian’s left brow and notices instead the chiselled planes of a man grown, utterly breath-taking in his nearness.

A shard of light ignites the shaky smile Ian is giving him and Mickey sets aside the troubled boy he knew so well and prepares himself to meet this new man and welcome all his complexities.

They stare at each other across the distance of a few feet and under each other’s scrutiny; there is no space for the kudos of uniforms, or the stigma of aged ink etched into skin. They are the same.

Ian moves first, he isn’t sure if he means to do violence or cradle Mickey’s face between his hands, but Mickey spares him the decision by bridging the rest of the gap and gripping the back of Ian’s head, pulling him down to his shoulder.

Ian grips fistfuls of his shirt and buries his face in the soft, clean skin of Mickey’s neck, breathing him in. He is at once thankful and furious that Mickey still knows exactly what he needs even before he does.

“You fucking broke out of jail!”

“Yeah.”

“You’re so fucking stupid. You’re a stupid mother fucking asshole!”

He mumbles and feels Mickey’s chest vibrate with laughter against him.

“Always have been, man. You only just realised it?”

“If they catch you ...”

“If they catch me, they catch me.”

Mickey shrugs as Ian straightens and stares down at him, his face contorted in sudden anger at how seemingly blasé Mickey is about his life.

“You only had seven years to go! They’ll put you away for life for this!”

He yells shoving Mickey’s chest a sudden, rough movement that startles the shorter man, although Mickey shoves back instinctively and harder than Ian expected, unbalancing them both.

“Fuck you! ‘Only’ Seven years? Do you know how fuckin’ long that is when you’re locked in a cell with some fucker who screams in his sleep? Hmm? No. You fuckin’ don’t so shut the fuck up.”

“Then you shouldn’t have tried to kill my sister!”

“Oh! Fuck off! Who gives a shit about Sammi? Her retarded fuckin’ kid? He probably wouldn’t even notice she’d gone as long as his slop was served on time!”

Mickey spits and Ian throws up his hands in frustration

“This is so typical of you! Everything is a bitchy quip or a threat! You never speak like a normal person. How can anyone talk to you?”

Mickey sucks his teeth irritably and looks away. Ian scrubs a hand down his face. He doesn’t lose his shit this easily. This isn’t him anymore; hiding under the bleachers, yelling insults and never sure if he is about to fuck or fight or both and in who knows which order. He has ordered his life neatly … Hell! Trevor is a big enough fucking distraction and Ian doesn’t even … well … it’s not the same intensity of feeling he has with Mickey that’s for sure.

“What do you want Mickey?”

“You. I want you.”

Mickey looks up at him and Ian shakes his head minutely. This is a gift but he can’t take it, he just can’t. Mickey ignores the gesture, he came here to lay out a plan and he’s going to lay it out if it kills him.

“I’m gonna get some stuff together and head south, to Mexico. I want you to come with me.”

“Run away with you? To Mexico?”

Ian gives a small laugh devoid of amusement and Mickey scuffs his toe through the dirt trying to keep himself together. What did he really expect? Ian has a life, a future, a fuckin’ plan of his own and Mickey is asking him to throw it all away or at least toss it in the air and take a chance on it landing right and giving him nothing to hang those hopes on.

Maybe once upon a time that was alright for Ian Gallagher but it’s clearly not anymore and Mickey steps forward, determined to speak at least this once like a ‘normal person’ might speak.

He smooths the collar of Ian’s shirt and brushes his thumb lightly along the line of his jaw. Ian doesn’t pull away and Mickey sees him sway onto the balls of his feet, wanting to be closer but holding his ground. Protecting himself from past failures and future loss and he understands exactly how Ian feels but he hasn’t risked everything to just walk away without trying to communicate some of what is in his heart, the way Ian had once wanted him to do. Once upon a fucking time.

“I thought a lot, about you, inside. You’re under my skin, man. The fuck can I do? Hmm? What can I do?”

Ian feels the words catch in his throat and shakes his head, blinking as Mickey’s face blurs behind the veil of his tears. He blinks them away and manages to keep eye contact with Mick through sheer bloody force of will.

It is all that Ian can manage. Nothing else will come and Mickey gives him a sympathetic smile, patting his cheek softly, he knows this feeling all too well and if he hadn’t had weeks and months to prepare for this, he’d be fucking speechless too. What can anyone really be expected to say when confronted with their hearts deepest desire and most ardent fear all rolled into one familiar human package? Ian managed to look him in the eye. It’s more than Mickey could have done.

“Think about it, alright?”

Mickey needs to leave. If he stays, he’s going to kiss him or beg him or both. And that ain’t fair. If Ian had sprung this shit on him, Mickey would probably have lost his shit by now and Ian has refrained from doing that, only by a damn thread looking at the set of his shoulders when he arrived, but still. He owes Ian time to process and make his own mind up, too many fuckin’ people have tried to tell him what to do, be or feel over the years and Mickey doesn’t want to be one of them.

“How will I find you?”

Ian asks, his voice wavering just a little. He knows Mickey is about to walk away, he can see it in the wide legged stance, the turn of his hips and the fear in his eyes. He doesn’t know if he’ll see Ian again, but he’s going to leave anyway.

Of course he is! That is Mickey, he does not force his feelings onto people, he never even seems to know if it’s alright to have them, that was always Ian’s role. It would be his role now if he even had a damn clue what he was feeling.

Mickey could have shown up with a knotted snag of beard and greasy long hair worn in a fucking ponytail, Ian wouldn’t have cared as long as he was still himself. And he is, he really fucking is and it’s too much.

“Look up.”

Mickey smiles as he walks back toward the dusty field track.

Ian glances upwards and feels along the bar, finding the phone almost instantly. He is slightly stunned at just how well Mickey positioned them both and then, after a second, Ian isn’t stunned at all. It’s Mickey and he’s a planner. Always has been. Ian would have known that instantly once upon a time.

Ian loiters until his nerves stop skittering around and he can think clearly again, replaying the last few minutes over and over in his head, committing them to memory.

It is only as he walks back toward the road, following Mickey’s footsteps, that he realises Mickey was wearing a shirt just like the one Trevor had worn last night. It looked better on Mickey. The thought isn’t welcome and makes Ian scowl but it’s true and Ian doesn’t try to push it away.

Instead he decides to go home, get changed and take his boyfriend lunch. He can think about Mickey later once his thoughts are more centered.

#shameless #shameless us #shameless fanfiction #shameless imagine #ian gallagher #ian x mickey #Ian loves Mickey #mickey milkovich #Milkovich #Gallavich #Gallagher #Love

14 notes · View notes