#i am unhinged this fine thursday evening
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a bird in your teeth, II
masterlist
summary: a night out with a friend has you reaching out for joel
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
warnings: 18+, mdni, neighbour!joel, age gap: reader is early-mid 20s, joel early 30s. no break-out. no smut (yet). allusion to SA (nothing happens)
a/n: thank you thank you thank you for the love on part one! i know there is not much joel yet, but fear not, this will be rectified fruitfully in part three <3
word count: 2.6k
After leaving Joel's place, you ran across the street to change for your night out. As usual, you turned your porch light off to indicate to Joel that you had gotten home safely, a small tradition you had kept since you first started babysitting Sarah late at night. Sometimes you would linger by the front door to watch Joel appear at his window, confirming your safe return. Whenever you caught him looking, you would wave, and he would return a small salute. That tiny movement of his hand would replay on loop all night.
Tonight, you didn't have time to stay and check, but felt that familiar feeling of the hairs on the back of your neck standing to attention as you passed your living room window. You had promised your closest friend Daisy that you would head into the city with her tonight, despite it being a Thursday and you both having ungodly early morning commitments.
When it came to Daisy, you could never say no. She had these all-devouring doe eyes and a sweet Southern belle twang that only came out when she wanted something. This time, she wanted to "accidentally" bump into a guy on her course she knew would be out. Aside from Joel and Sarah, your move to Texas would have been nothing without befriending Daisy in a bar toilet. Both a couple of drinks deep at the time, she had complimented your handbag and henceforth ignited a friendship closer to sisterhood. What kind of friend would you be to turn her down in her hour of need?
Quickly changing out of your comfy chick-flick-watching and popcorn-eating attire into something revealing a little more skin, you let your hair down from your claw clip and gave it a once over with a brush. You pulled on your rite of passage cowboy boots, already sensing the shriek that would erupt from Daisy's core when she saw the fringed boots paired with your little denim mini skirt. Another thing you loved about her was how similar she was to girls back home; a true girl's girl through and through. You had spent countless late nights on one another's front porches with a bottle (or two) of wine, philosophizing over the smallest and largest dilemmas all twenty-something women toss and turn over. The future, becoming mothers some day, not becoming mothers, the next episode of The O.C., careers, husbands, whether you’d ever grow to like the taste of red wine.
A car horn beeped once outside prompting you to grab your handbag and skip out the door to the passenger's side.
"Oh, honey. Let's have a moment for the boots! Y'ready to bring this city to its knees?" Daisy giggled as you jumped in.
"Baby, you know I always am,” you chirped in your bordering offensive attempt at a Southern drawl. “So, what's this guy's name again?"
"Mark. Fancy, huh? He's in my lab group. Sometimes when we're measuring out cobalt chloride hexahydrate I look at his big strong hands and think good grief man would'ya just take me on the work bench?"
"You're preaching to the choir here, sister." You laugh. Only Daisy could say the most academic and intelligent thing in one breath to then utter some unhinged depravity in the next.
"Soooo," she longed out, taking turns looking at you and then the road and then back at you again.
"Dais, don't even-"
"How's Mr. Miller?"
You throw your head back in the same manner Sarah used to when you first knew her; when Joel would tell her to get ready for bed so that he could break open a bottle of whiskey after a long evening of barbecuing.
"He's fine, as he always is when you ask."
"Sureee. He not tried the I don't have any cash on me to pay you for looking after my kid... but I could pay you another way yet?"
"It's so not like that and you know it. Plus I don't ask him to pay me to babysit Sarah." You muttered the last part, slightly embarrassed to admit that you spent so much time with the Millers purely out of enjoyment.
"What! You're always at their damn place watching his kid while he fucks some recently divorced suburban mom."
"You think he fucks them?" You ask, with a little too much rawness to your tone.
"Oh honey, this ain't good for you. You're smitten for the bastard."
"Can we talk about something else? This is making me depressed." You forced a laugh at the patheticness of your situation. More often than not, you had to sternly remind yourself that Joel was a divorced, single father, ten years your senior, who certainly didn't share your pining for him. He had responsibilities; he was too busy to deal with your little crush, being a father and all. You told yourself it was just you projecting onto him. Probably something with a Freudian explanation.
"Alright, alright. Let's talk about Mark's friend Elijah who I am certain is out with him tonight and would eat up the whole Kate Moss meets Minnie Driver thing y'have goin' on here."
"You're just referencing the only two British women you know other than me. Anyway, he better be handsome. You always stick me with the reject friend."
"Am not and do not!" Daisy laughed, shoving your shoulder as she pulled into the bar parking lot. "I'm leaving the car here overnight, wanna have a good couple drinks. You good to get a cab back to yours later?"
"Sure thing." You said.
"Who knows, we might even get lucky." Daisy winked at you, making her way toward the entrance, a sultry but sweet swing in her hips that only she could make look so effortless.
---
Elijah wasn't exactly your type. So, you decided to keep drinking until he somewhat was.
"You're not from round here, are ya?" He asked.
You widened your eyes in mock surprise at his intellectual summation. "What gave it away?" You said dryly, not really caring for an answer. It took moving out of England to realize alcohol simply made you more British. Or a sarcastic bitch, as some had put it.
"That accent for starters. Australia home for you, sweetness?"
It was going to be a long night.
"How did you guess!" You replied, slightly repelled by the misplaced enthusiasm plastered across his face.
"Well, myself I've never been to Australia, but I sure know my way 'round down under."
You half-choked on your sip of rum and coke, which Elijah seemed to take as a win.
"Dear Lord. That's really, um, something! I need to nip to the loo. Be back in a sec." You grabbed your bag and made for the bathroom, which was temptingly close to the back exit. Weighing up your options, you decided that you couldn't leave Daisy alone with two men in the middle of the city and settled with the bathroom.
Right on cue, she bustled in behind you shrieking your name.
"For a second there I thought you were gonna leave me all by my lonesome." She shouted over the bathroom stall.
"For a second there, so did I."
"Oh come on, he's not that bad."
You flushed the toilet and flung the door open to her standing nose-to-nose with the door.
"A Soviet gulag wouldn't be that bad compared to him." You retorted, moving to wash your hands. "He's a pig! He felt up my arse twice before we even sat down."
"Okay, so - he's handsy! You haven't been gettin' much action recently, anyway. Take it as a compliment?" You turned to give Daisy a look you knew she would choose to ignore. "Please, honey. They're having a little get-together back at their apartment and I would feel so much better if you came along. It's by campus, so you don't even need to worry about missin' class tomorrow."
Once again, you felt like channeling pre-teen Sarah, fighting the urge to stomp your feet at Daisy's request. As per usual, her big pleading eyes wore down your defenses. It was so obvious she was the youngest child in her family sometimes.
"Fine. But you owe me." She squealed at your response, hugging you and kicking one knee in the air.
"Anythin', honey. A lung, even! Mark has ordered an Uber and promised there's plenty'a liquor at his place. Let's go!"
You rolled your eyes realizing the Uber had been booked before the two of you had discussed your plans.
As you walked towards the boys, who sat with their jackets already on and big grins spread across their stupid faces, your mind wandered to Joel. You wondered if he had ever brought one of his dates to a bar like this. Maybe he had taken their jacket, hung it on the coat rack, and returned to her to ask so, what you drinkin'? He would wave his hand when she offered to pay for a round or if she reached for her purse. You wondered if he ever tried his luck, touching a knee against hers underneath the table. Whether he leaned in for a kiss, or put a hand on her thigh in the cab home.
You wondered if Joel ever noticed the way your breathing sped up when he put an arm around you after a couple of drinks, or how you would blush when he paid you the odd compliment. Did he ever notice the extra skin on show when the Texas heat made dressing semi-modestly for babysitting duties impossible? Or when you would lounge around the back garden in your bikini with Sarah? Did he catch a glimpse of you in skimpy outfits and heels running from your front door to various cars or cabs, or when you would sneak back at 6am on Sunday mornings clutching the heels? The dynamic between you and Joel felt so stilted sometimes. At times, it felt as though he was holding a part of himself back. Like he was always on the cusp of telling you something, but simultaneously fighting a battle between his tongue and his head to divulge any piece of himself to you.
But other times, he didn't. Since he'd first reached out that Friday at your front door, he had never failed to be there for you. When it was the flu or homesickness, Joel was there. Last summer, you had been especially missing your grandmother's homemade tiramisu, so had scoured the local bookstores for a Nigella Lawson recipe book and made you one with Sarah. The lady finger biscuits were so soggy they had disintegrated and the taste of amaretto was too much for even you, but you cried when he brought it over, the dish covered in a bumblebee dish towel. In the colder weather, he had fixed your boiler and defrosted your pipes. And whenever he passed a fresh produce store, he would bring you figs and watermelons to remind you of your summers in Europe. When you were in the thick of writing your thesis, Joel brought you a plate of whatever he and Sarah were having for dinner, knowing fully well that you would neglect your own dinnertime to meet deadlines. Joel didn't need to thank you for helping him out with Sarah, or whatever he had meant earlier, he was always thanking you in his own little way.
"Uber's here!" Mark's exclamation brought you out of your haze. You felt a hand on your lower back, Elijah was guiding you out of the bar not-so-courteously. You couldn't help but sigh at the disparity between your daydreams about Joel and the reality of your so-called love life.
"I'm not that drunk." You muttered under your breath, hoping you were loud enough for him to get the hint. If he did hear, he didn't act upon it.
Bundling into the car, Mark sat in the front seat, and you between Daisy and Elijah.
"D'ya like her boots, Elijah?" Daisy asked sweetly, leaning across you.
"They're real nice. Would look much nicer on my floor though." Daisy squeezed your thigh as if to say don't say a word.
"They'll look even better flying towards your head." You retorted, ignoring her.
"Oh, don't mind her! She's got that famous British sense of humor."
"Well, lucky she's so damn pretty, ain't it?" Elijah responded, making your stomach turn slightly at his unrelenting forwardness.
Mark announced that you had arrived, and everyone spilled out of the car in a stupor. You were drunker than you thought.
Between Elijah lingering around you like a bad smell, Daisy and Mark feeling each other up on the sofa, and the ever-looming presence of your 9am, you decided to call it a night a little over an hour into the impromptu after-party.
"Feel free to crash in my flatmate's room rather than pay for a cab home." Mark offered. "Think I'm gonna call it a night too, kinda tired myself."
"Oh, yes! You should stay, she has class early in the morning so it only makes sense." Daisy chimed in, clinging to Mark's arm. You could only assume she also planned on staying the night, but didn't have time to answer before Mark spoke again.
"Well then, it's settled. Down the hall and first door on your left. Make yourself at home."
You were too exhausted to argue, so made your way per Mark's instructions, ignoring Elijah's puppy dog look at you leaving him high and dry. You kicked off your boots but clambered underneath the duvet with your clothes still on. The walk of shame to class tomorrow will be just great, you thought. Popping two co-codomal tablets out of your bag, you swallowed them with a glass of water from the nightstand, entirely uncaring of how long it had been sat there. You needed all the help you could get for some proper rest on the hard mattress and single, flat pillow.
The apartment fell silent soon after, aside from a few recognizable giggles and the unmistakable slam of a bedroom door. Pills finally beginning to take effect, you had started to doze off with little resistance until the bedroom door creaked open.
"Daisy?" You muttered groggily, rubbing your eyes to make out the figuring closing the door behind them. "Is everything okay?"
"It's me." The unexpected masculine voice made you lurch into a seated position, recognizing it as Elijah in the dimly lit room.
"I thought you went home." You spoke, trying to sound braver than you were feeling as the mattress dipped with his weight.
"How could I, when I knew you were in here waiting for me." Your muscles froze.
"Look - I think there's been a misunderstanding. I'm sorry, I really need to get up early. I didn't mean to lead you o..."
You were cut off by his lips clashing against yours, cutting your upper lip against your front teeth. His arms were leaning on either side of you, caging you in his embrace as your cries for him to stop went muffled and unheard. Elijah's weight shifted, moving his body on top of yours, trapping you entirely underneath him. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Even if you wanted to try to push him off, your body had gone utterly lifeless in panic.
"You'll like it, sweetheart. Don't be so damn uptight." You felt sick. Your skirt was around your hips from the struggle between his body and the mattress, you were separated from him by only your panties.
He reached his hand down to palm himself through his jeans, which thanks to his undignified alcohol consumption throughout the night, was to no avail. Growing frustrated with his body's lack of cooperation, his weight on you relaxed and you took your chance to tumble out from under him.
"Where the hell are you going?" You grabbed your handbag in a haze and darted out of the door, his shouts after you growing quieter by the second.
As soon as you were out of the building, you rested your hands on your knees and emptied your stomach onto the pavement. You dreaded to think what you looked like; skirt hitched high up your thighs, no doubt mascara pouring down your cheeks, face inches away from your own vomit. You also didn't care. Silent sobs racked through your body as you tried to guide your trembling hands through your handbag to retrieve your phone. Messily scrolling down your contact list, your heart stopped at the letter J. It was the early hours of the morning, but you knew he kept his phone on during the night in case Tommy ever needed bail money.
"Hello?" His gruff voice had never sounded so sweet, the instantaneous relief that washed over your body almost brought you to your knees.
"Joel, I-I'm so sorry to call so late. It's me. Something... something's happened."
"Where are you?"
You stumbled to the nearest main road, searching for street signs. The sun was beginning to rise. You thought you might be sick again.
"West 22nd and Guadalupe." You touched a finger tentatively to your lip, not realising it had been pumping blood down your chin and onto your chest.
"You stay there, I'll be there in 15."
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller#joel miller x female reader#joel tlou#tlou hbo#tlou#tlou fanfiction#the last of us#the last of us hbo#the last of us fanfiction#my fic#pedrostories#pedro pascal#pedrohub#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal characters
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also; WHY ARE YOU IN URGENT CARE ARE YOU OKAY??
I am indeed okayish. Just sick. I can tell you the whole story but half of it is literally so unhinged.
SO
I got sick on Thursday. Sore throat. Not too bad. I've had strep a hundred times and it felt like that so I was like "I'll see what happens." Sunday comes around, it still feels like strep, I go to urgent care. They swab my throat, check me out. Strep test is negative, covid is negative.
Now, here is where the unhinged comes in.
My doctor informs me that I have "the blowjob bruise." If you're not familiar with the blowjob bruise, I will explain:
There is a bruise you can get on the roof of your mouth. On your palate. And one of the leading causes of that bruise is, you guessed it, blowjobs. It is the blowjob bruise.
HOWEVER.
I didn’t give a blowjob. I could not have gotten the blowjob bruise from a blowjob. They tried to figure out what the fuck it came from, they don't know and I don't know. They send me home with a "come back if it gets worse, you are a medical enigma." As they tend to do.
It got worse.
I got cold symptoms, my throat got worse, and my appetite *poof* gone. I haven't eaten in two days and I didn't even notice because I'm literally not hungry ever.
So I went back to Urgent Care today because it got worse, they tested me for a bunch of shit again. Mono? Negative. Covid? Negative. Rapid Strep Test? Negative. So they stuck a swab down my throat, as one does, and then they sent it out to a lab to test for weirder strains of strep because maybe it's not the one type they test for. But even then they are not optimistic about fining any kind of answer for me.
They have no idea what's wrong. Just that I'm sick, and I have a blowjob bruise.
This has been my unhinged retelling of my unhinged Urgent Care experience.
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Have I ever told you all about sleeping Dani? No? I didn't think so. She's quite lovely, so this isn't going to be an exciting af story or unhinged, but I need to share it anyway bc it has me cackling.
So let me tell you about what Sleeping Dani said to my dear dear fiance last night :)
for once i went to bed before him
this never happens. i hate going to bed bc then i have to wake UP and i loose PRECIOUS TIME DOING THINGS???
capitalism is a plague onto humankind
anyway
i go to bed all cozy and pass out so fucking fast
you guys don't even KNOW
i was SLEEPY
this does not bode well for Thursday Night
(laudna my beloved come back)
SO. FIANCE GETS INTO BED.
HE CURLS UP WITH ME.
PASSES OUT.
PROCEEDS TO HAVE THIS BATSHIT DREAM IN WHICH HE IS FIGHTING OFF HOME INTRUDERS WHILE THE CAT
YES, DEAREST CINNABUD,
IS YOWLING HIS HEAD OFF
IN IRL
IT IS BLEEDING INTO THIS DREAM.
My fiance SNAPS AWAKE, DISORIENTED. MID-ADRENALINE RUSH. READY TO ATTACK THE BREAKER INNERS
there are no breaker inners
just cinnamon singing fluffs the song of his people
fiance looks over to me. i am dead asleep
and i sleep light so he's like. okay. it's probably fine if dani's not worried
probably there's no murderers
dani was OUT COLD let me tell you
so he tries to lay back down after checking the time (3:47am ish)
he cannot get comfy
he is still trying to not be freaked out
cat finished yowling
he's finally drifting to sleep
when suddenly his body goes
YOU ARE ITCHY AS FUCK AND YOU NEED TO PEE
so he gets up to go pee
and it is at this point that Sleeping Dani emerges
as he is getting up sleeping dani rouses
looks at him confused
he goes '"i'm going to go pee"
sleeping dani replies
she says
i kid you not.
she says
"you can do it! :)"
and falls back asleep
when he was recounting this to me in the car this afternoon, i fucking LOST IT
I WAS LAUGHING SO HARD
I DO NOT REMEMBER THIS THOUGH I DO REMEMBER WAKING UP AND IT WAS V BLUE AND FIANCE WAS MOVING ABOUT
BUT THAT'S SO ON BRAND FOR HER
FOR ME I GUESS LMAO
I'm CRYING in the car it's so funny to me
and fiance, he goes, "well, at least even subconsciously you're supportive of me :)"
AND I WAS GONE
#dani speaks#AS IF HE FORGOT HOW TO PEE AND I HAVE TO CHEER HIM ON 😂😂😂#sleepy dani has had a few gems like this#she once had a whole convo with fluffs that we then had the next day when i was awake#fluffs looked at me like 'we had this exact same convo last night'#i was like did we????? i don't remember#we both look at one another like :O! sleeping dani! she strikes!#other sleepy dani gem: did you tide the tide#that one was fun bc i woke up halfway through and was mortified#i had confused the fluffs so bad
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I'm on lunch thank fuck. My plan for pho for days has been thrawted by my own idiocy. I put all the noodles into the pho broth because who the hell has a quart container and or space for two huge things of pho mixings. So I just ate what I wanted on Thursday and poured the noodles into the broth and put it in the fridge.
And didn't even think that duh noodles absorb liquid. So now I have soggy pho infused noodles. It's fine I'll still eat it. NGL that bahn mi I had was fire. I might go back on Sunday depending on how my day does.
Before I settle in to write I am going to post a screenshot of the most UNHINGED porn bot I just banished from my blog.
WHAT PORN BOT WRITER GOES "SEXY CREEPY CLOWNS ARE GOOD CLICKBAIT"
Who the fuck is your target audience? The Joker???
I'm sure there is a niche on this for only fans. I know I've SEEN that clownfucker reddit post circulates on tumblr so I'm sure there's an audience for this. But out of all the weird avatars you could select you went with this???
NGL I almost did not banish them because I have so many questions. I want them to actually not be a bot so I can have some answers.
🤡🤡🤡
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What to do?
It happened last Sunday, which was 4 days ago, a friend of mine chatted me that sometimes he thinks he wants to kill himself. He does not know how long he can hold on.
To give a background on what he went thru, typhoon odette damaged their client hotel. This meant he is not getting paid. Then, a client of his didn’t pay him for the website he did with my husband. Then, he lost a newborn child, a twin. The other twin lived, but the other one died.
I know what grief is. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone even my bitterest enemy. It consumes you. It makes you don’t want to live anymore. Weeks after my father’s death, there are days where I wish I will not wake up. But, of course, I didn’t do anything about those thoughts. Because I pray. I have a God.
But my friend does not have a God. He doesn’t have anyone he believes in. And that will surely suck the hope out of you. I tried to console and comfort him, but he refuses to listen. I don’t know what to tell him that will get through him. I concluded he should help himself first before anyone can help him right? Like why are you telling me this? What do you want from me? What do you expect me to do?
So that was Sunday, the Tuesday came. Here he is again, snapping. He was talking to my husband instead of me, but this time I was really stressed. He and my husband is in a project and he wants to quit because of the various reasons, which for me are selfish reasons.
I was so mad at him. The stress carried on until Wednesday and I felt it physically. My head hurts, and until today, Thursday, sometimes I find it hard to breathe. That is why I decided to create this post to let it go. I am mad because maybe I cannot accept that I misjudged his character. I pride myself in correctly identifying one’s character by my gut. The first time I met him, I didn’t get a vibe that he is a weak, coward, selfish jerk. But yeah people change. Maybe that’s why I am mad. Why is he being like this? Doesn’t he love his family anymore? He has a son, a newborn baby and a wife. What would happen to them if he kills himself?? Also, he dragged my husband to this project. My husband resigned because of this, and I absolutely loathe it that our livelihood depended on his mood. I am absolutely livid. But it is not good to my health anymore. I really should let this go. I have to accept that he is what he is and we can’t do anything about it. We can only influence him, but it is still totally up to him how to live his life and I shouldn’t care about it. Except I care because he is a friend. But if this continues, I don’t know if I still want to be his friend. I mean I want to support him and everything but I cannot do it if he doesn’t help himself first. We are all have our own battles to fight, and your energy is limited, so I decided to not give him the spare energy I have if he won’t listen. Does that make me a bad friend? I don’t know. But I know that I have to take care of myself first before others. I feel bad for his wife. She has to deal with him everyday on top of caring for their children. I really hope he can stay afloat above his grief. I hope he can come to his senses for his family. People make terrible decisions when they are scared, angry or desperate. That is why we have God. But since he is not religious, I don’t know what to tell him. I think what makes me mad also is that I have to be nice. I want to lash out at him to make him see sense, but I cannot do that because I don’t know him very well. I don’t know what will push him over the edge and I really don’t want be the reason he went over the edge. What I can do is pray and leave this to God. To give me patience and a pure heart that I hope can guide my friend.
Update:
Apparently this guys is really unhinged. Out of nowhere, after attending two meetings when he seems fine, he chatted my husband that we didn’t show him an ounce of compassion that’s why he is quitting with finality. Apparently, there’s a separate gc where reina (the investor who quit because he is egging her on) is bad mouthing him and nobody told him what she said. The nerve right? 1. He created his own ghost and now he is scared by it. 2. There’s no gc!!! Even if there was, my husband is not in it! 3. We didn’t show an ounce of compassion?! That’s all we ever did to him!!!!!!!!
I don’t know what his deal is, and I am so upset that I was wrong in judging him. When I met him since 2021, he seems ok. We chat in messenger and met in person but I didn’t get the vibe that he is crazy. But he lost a child, and maybe that changed him. So, I blocked him. I don’t want to be associated with him anymore because he is really toxic. I blocked him in fb and LinkedIn too. He is really unstable and erratic. I humbly accept I was wrong with being friends with him and it will never happen again. I will still trust my instincts, but I will be very wary this time.
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Thursday Thoughts: Just a personal reflection...
Wrote this while I was on vacation and while I went dark for a bit…
I’ve been sitting with my thoughts and emotions a lot over the past week or so. And, as I continue processing things emotionally and mentally, I needed to brain dump a little bit.
I hesitated to post because I (1) just wanted everything to fizzle out and (2) wanted to stop hurting people both online and offline… But I ultimately realized that I needed to put this out there, so as to help expend my thoughts from my body and to enable me to move forward at peace.
I’ve already reached out to the individuals with whom I inadvertently stirred up toxicity and have apologized and owned up to where I went wrong. I kept going back and forth if I needed to say something more widely spread — and I realized that just putting something on my blog suffices. I don’t want to center myself on a more visible platform anymore, but I can center myself here. On my personal blog.
I’ve been thinking about why I even started doing this in the first place: to write. And, more specifically, to write about things that are important to me.
Thinking a lot about walking into and trying to occupy space in an environment that I know little about — while also staying true to who I am. Thinking about how to honor both my own emotions and also the emotions of those around me, especially those who I respect and care about. Thinking about how I could have handled things differently, while also recognizing that I don’t believe in leaving anonymous hate unchecked.
I’ve been called unhinged, antagonistic, sick, a weird freak, immature, a traitor. And I know those descriptors simultaneously are par for the course when you’re on the Internet AND hold some truth. Because I am those things sometimes, and I showed those sides over the past couple of days and they are valid and true to a certain degree.
However, I draw the line at a couple of things:
Calling my identity into question, especially my identity as someone in my 30s, as a woman of color, as a MOTHER.
Calling my experience of trauma into question (which, I admit, I also did not do with some people — and I'm sitting with and grappling with that hypocrisy).
You can disagree with what I say, what I do, how I handle things — that’s completely valid and fine, and I take the feedback. Hold me accountable if I do things that are harmful (because I’m not going to deny that I’ve unintentionally caused harm and I’m also reflecting on how I can continue to make things right). But when someone questions who I am as a PERSON, that is not something I can leave unchecked.
I am not new to trauma. I don’t owe anyone my life story, but I have known — viscerally — what it’s like to deal with ACTUAL HATE in the world. Hate that has threatened my life and my well-being. And because I'm not new to trauma (and, specifically, to hate), this is the manner that I developed how to handle hate and harassment that feels right to me, in any space I'm navigating, both online and offline: I don’t ignore — I respond. Not everyone agrees with this approach, but that’s what I do. In any space that I occupy.
I know that this is “just internet hate” and that I have been accused of being toxic and being emotionally and mentally immature for how I responded (for what it’s worth, I don’t believe that directly confronting toxicity is in itself toxic, but that’s where I know a lot of people disagree). I also know that I'm new to experiencing this type of harassment — and I'm learning how to deal with it. Even though I've observed second-hand and thought pragmatically that I could handle it a certain way, it wasn't how I expected. And I keep reminding myself that it's okay. That I'm bound to make mistakes.
And I know that I made quite a few mistakes, that I overstepped in a few ways, as I tried to navigate all of this...
I overstepped when I brought someone else into the fight on a public stage — I didn’t need to do that.
I overstepped when I didn’t clearly shut down when there were unnecessary name drops — I should’ve said more explicitly that it wasn’t okay.
I overstepped when I hurt specific individuals while I was navigating what was happening — I have shared with them directly already, and I’ll say it many, many times. I’m sorry. I never expect forgiveness or reconciliation, particularly when I’ve committed such offenses, but I am truly, sincerely sorry for betraying their trust and confidence. Particularly when they were nothing but accepting of someone who continues to reconcile if she belongs.
I overstepped when I expected (even subconsciously) that others react to trauma in the same way I do. That wasn't okay. And it also isn't okay for others to expect me to react to trauma the way they do. Both things can exist at the same time. I'm working through embracing that.
I have no intention of stepping away from this forever: writing means too much to me to completely abandon everything.
Candidly, I wanted to step away in order to minimize future harm and hopefully to let this fizzle out, allow this space to heal a bit after I harmfully disrupted it. I also recognized that the situation was progressing in a way in which I was being centered, and in my heightened emotion I was becoming more of the focus, rather than what I was trying to say — and that was never my intention of what I was saying or doing. I wanted to highlight something bigger going on, and it was obvious that my intended message was getting lost.
I may not agree with a lot of things in how this space is conducted — but I know I’m one person. And it’s not my place to make the rules. I don’t actually plan to lead a fandom revolution, whether in terms of content or rules of engagement: that is silly and unwanted and no one actually gives a shit. I know that.
I truly do see opportunities for it to change, though — I shared my thoughts, I advocated for something different, and I got shut down. It happens all the time, and I accept it. Things don’t happen overnight and, honestly, I spend this energy around creating change everywhere else that I’m also coming to terms with what it means to occupy an inequitable space in a way that still aligns with who I am, authentically.
At the end of the day, I am feeling many things. Hurt and angry, because I am a person and I think those are valid emotions to feel whenever anyone hears something hurtful. Ashamed, because I dragged people into this mess and it is never my intention to do harm. Confused, because there are many aspects of how this played out (both from me and other parties involved) that I’m still trying to come to terms with. Disappointed, both in how the situation panned out and in how I let this occupy way too much of my headspace. Worried that people are misinterpreting how my decision to step away for a bit signifies that I am weak. And vulnerable. A little unwanted. A little like a hypocrite. Tired.
But also strong and confident in who I am and how I exist.
I am resilient. I’ve built my whole life around resilience. And, throughout my life experience as a 32-year-old queer woman of color — who, over the past week has been told to kill herself, that I’m a horrible mother, that I deserve this type of treatment because of the people with whom I decided to surround myself — I have also learned the beautiful truth that people, even resilient people, don’t and shouldn’t be resilient all the time. That we can let go of being strong and just be. In whatever way is coming up at the time.
Because, when it comes down to it, resilience is just another way that people (especially people of marginalized groups) are expected to shut up and keep their heads down while hurtful things continue to happen to them. We (I) don’t have to put up with that if we (I) have neither the desire nor the energy to just “be quiet and take it.”
And, at this moment, I’ve allowed myself to let go of resilience for just a little bit. To call out the problems. To take care of myself. And to give myself the compassion and understanding that I did what I needed to do in a harmful situation.
And now I’m back. Still me. Still more direct than most people want, still never hesitating to call out shit when it happens — also a little wiser in how to do so in this space specifically.
And still writing. Because that’s why I’m ultimately here.
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any delay in chapter 11 is brought to you by the teen wolf megawerewolf and the omegaverse lawsuit
#mo speaks#i am unhinged this fine thursday evening#my brain is melting out of my ass#i cant stop thinking abt the megawolf#megawolf my beloved ❤️
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is there a reason my coworkers can’t keep our task spreadsheet up to date. like I would genuinely like to know. I have sent multiple emails about it. I’m on my knees.
#stuff’s gonna get LOST and IM the one who’s gonna have to hear about it#because everyone acts like I’m in charge even tho I’m THE LOWEST RANKING EMPLOYEE#I am the only person that keeps track of what items go in or out and literally all they have to do#is mark down the date when something gets dropped off or picked up#that’s it#it’s not highly complex mathematics#I feel insane I literally JUST sent an email the other day#and everyone sent back ‘oh I keep the sheet up to date :) sometimes I forget but usually I’m good :)#this is patently a lie because there isn’t anything in the spreadsheet that I DIDNT PUT THERE#sorry I’m just feeling a little unhinged this fine Thursday morning#personal.txt
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Unicorns
Written as part of a Terrible Tropes drunk drabble with @provocative-envy, @scullymurphy, and @pacific-rimbaud
Pairing: Sirius/Luna
Rating: M, probably?
Tags: Muggle AU, Terrible Tropes, Funeral Home Meet-Cute
Warnings: Age Difference (both over 18), verrry light bondage, I wrote this while I was drunk so keep that in mind, I am calling this a drabble but it is ?? 1600+ words
It’s Sirius’s second Thursday back at the family business when he first sees her.
Fuck, East L.A. is hot. Hot in a different way than Thailand was hot or Aruba was hot or even than Mexico was hot. Those were all a lounge on the beach with your sixth mai tai kind of hot. A fresh white linens in a king resort suite with mosquito netting around the bed kind of hot. This is a depressing, sizzling pavement in front of a strip mall funeral home next to a dubious-looking mattress store kind of hot.
And of course his pride will not allow him business apparel less formal than these black slacks, this pressed black button down, this insufferable gray and purple paisley silk tie, usually beloved but now cursed and damp with his neck sweat. Even without the suit coat his ensemble is murder in this weather.
Lovegood Funeral Services has a sort of dingy and disappointing feeling to it, the same general vibe as if you were leaving your beloved dead to rest at a Greyhound bus station, but at least it is air conditioned. As soon as Sirius steps through the door, he’s blasted with a wave of blissfully cold air so forceful that his sweat-slick black curls, down to his shoulders now, are tossed back like he is in a shampoo commercial.
The girl at the desk is texting furiously, her blond ponytail bobbing. Perky, even in avoidance. A little chime announces his entrance, the same four notes an old clock might make on a quarter of the hour, but she doesn’t look up. Sirius plasters on his best sales smile and glances at the silver magnetic name tag fastened precariously close to the cleavage-heavy bust line of what can only be described as an LBD.
“Lavender,” he says, with his trademark easy charm. “How are you today? Hot one, huh?”
Lavender, presumably, does nothing to acknowledge his existence. Her brow furrows as she stabs at her smartphone.
“Listen, Lavender, I’m sure you’re busy, but I’m out here with Black Family Caskets. We had a contract with you all in the past, and I’d like to talk to you about your renewal options…”
The hairs on Sirius’s neck rise, and he has the curious, prickling, discomfiting sensation that he is being watched. It is definitely not by Lavender, who has merged entirely with her rose gold iPhone 11.
He looks up.
“Jesus fucking Christ!”
At the top landing of the Gothic staircase rising behind the front desk, a woman in her mid-twenties with flowing white blonde hair down to her waist is standing silently in a white linen shift dress, staring at him with somewhat vacant clear blue eyes.
She’s pretty. Kind of disturbing, but definitely pretty.
Lavender finally looks up, and seeing the horror on his face, glances over her shoulder. “Oh,” she says with a shrug. “Yeah. That’s Luna.”
“Luna?” Sirius swallows as Luna, apparently, floats down the stairs and comes to stand directly between him and Lavender, approximately six inches closer to him than social etiquette would deem appropriate.
She peers right into his eyes, and he falls into the blue sea of her gaze, transfixed.
“The dead are … quiet today.” She speaks softly, directly into the deepest realest part of him, then turns abruptly and drifts back up the stairs, sing-songing a nursery rhyme in a minor key.
Sirius stares after her, blinking hard.
“She’s the owner’s daughter,” Lavender says, tossing her hands up noncommittally. “You get used to it.”
“Oh.” Usually Sirius would be able to snap back, offer some friendly retort. Make Lavender like him. But he feels … strangely shaken. Strangely taken with this strange funeral home’s strange daughter.
“If you give me your card,” — Lavender pops her gum and resumes texting, not looking up as she speaks to him — “I’ll give it to Xeno. I know he likes your caskets.” She suddenly beams, a dazzling smile, which is puzzling because she isn’t looking at Sirius at all. Then he hears a digital click and realizes that she is taking a selfie.
Sirius slides his business card across the counter. For the rest of the day, he contemplates Luna’s blue eyes, ponders the silence of the dead.
—
The second time he sees her is on his third Friday back on the job. He’s popped by Lovegood Funeral Services to make sure the caskets were delivered as planned. To make sure they are properly arranged in the display room as befits the Black Family name, under Regulus’s orders.
Lavender, communing with her phone again, and in another black dress that is about four inches too short for the situation, leads him wordlessly to the showroom and gestures him in, then leaves him there under the roar of the air conditioner.
It’s cool and quiet in the showroom. Refreshingly still, the only noise the white noise of the AC. Sirius runs one hand over the Joshua Natural Grained Solid Oak Casket with gray silk lining, admires the Homestead Teak Casket with a tasteful black interior.
And then his neck tingles again. He senses her before he sees her.
Luna Lovegood sits bolt upright from where she has seemingly ensconced herself in the Orion Mahogany Deluxe casket with vermilion satin cushioning. Her smile is jarring, ever so slightly unhinged. Sirius feels his pulse throb in his throat. He isn’t sure if it is fear or desire. He isn’t sure he cares.
“Oh, hello Sirius. I’ve just had the loveliest nap.”
Sirius, who cannot recall ever telling her his name, freezes. Until she beckons him with one milky white hand.
He goes to her as though pulled by invisible magnetic forces.
She grabs hold of his tie. Crimson today, peppered with little gold fleur de lis. She waves her other pale hand in a spiral around his right temple. “You have so many nargles,” she says dreamily. “You do know the best cure for nargles?”
“Nargles?” he asks blankly. She’s wearing another white dress, this one with long lace bell sleeves, and she smells like patchouli, sandalwood, something else he can’t quite place. Her earrings appear to be … a pair of French radishes? Relatively fresh. But he barely registers this before he falls again, transfixed, into her fathomless eyes. “The best cure?”
“Sex of course, silly,” Luna says with a girlish giggle, passing one velvet soft thumb down his jawline.
Sirius swallows and tries, wistfully, to recall the last time he fucked someone. Amy, probably, that swimwear model, in Tahiti. That was three months gone now, before Regulus had called him back.
“I could help you with that, you know.” Luna has wrapped his tie around her hand twice, and she pulls him closer, closer, until their faces are only inches apart. She is still making uncomfortably intense eye contact, still sitting inside the model casket. Sirius’s favorite casket, if he had to choose.
“LUUUU-NA!” Lavender bellows from the other room. “YOUR DAD WANTS YOU!”
She hops out of the casket, steadying herself on his shoulder.
“Come see me,” Luna croons over her shoulder as she skips off with a childish giggle.
At the desk, Sirius passes another of his business cards to Lavender. “Would you give this to Luna for me?”
Lavender rolls her eyes, unceasing in the tapping of her thumb against her phone. “Fine.”
On the forty-five minute commute back to his soulless marble-encrusted bachelor pad, Sirius wonders about nargles.
—
The third time he sees her is on his fourth Saturday back.
This time, he is not here on business.
He parks his Lexus on the street behind the funeral home, looking towards the back door, where she’s asked him to meet her.
While he waits, he scrolls through her texts again. Seven crystal balls. Something apocryphal and indecipherable about nargles. Three sparkle emojis on either side of “you are beautiful.”
What is he even doing?
And then Luna emerges from the battered backdoor of Lovegood Funeral Services, moving past the enormous blue dumpster with so much grace that she almost appears to be hovering off the ground. Her dress is white, of course, but strappy, tighter than he has come to expect.
It’s so hot that even from thirty feet away, she looks hazy to him through the heat waves rising from the blacktop.
Feeling as though he has left his body, he slams the car door behind him, locks it with the fob. He crosses towards her, and she meets him halfway. Her hand, when it clutches his, is improbably cool.
She leads him next door to the fleabag motel. He does not ask any questions when she produces a key card. He does not ask any questions when she pushes him down on the bed and wraps his tie — a delicate floral in yellow, gray, and black — around his wrists and knots it. He does not ask any questions as she sinks down onto him, moaning more sincerely, more earnestly than anyone he has been with has in at least a decade.
“You have to say my name — mmm — when you come,” she whispers, bobbing above him. “To — oh — dispell — mmm — the nargles.”
He ejaculates so hard that he almost cries. He comes, of course, shouting her name.
“There,” she whispers after, draping herself over him very thoroughly, and even if it is a bit cloying, she kisses his nose with endearing tenderness. “Your nargles are gone now.”
It is the best sex of his life, and that is saying something.
On the long drive home through the slow crawl of traffic, Sirius considers Luna.
He is ready to believe in nargles, unicorns, ley lines, Tantric orgasms, the various stutterings and silences of the dead. He is ready to buy a dozen dead roses and have them delivered to her door.
Because, you know, she would get it.
Sirius is pretty sure that Luna is magic.
#drunk drabbles#terrible tropes#luna lovegood#sirius black#muggle au#funeral home meet cute#no one asked for this#but you get it anyway#LOL
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Thursday 1 September 1831
5 3/4
10 55/..
Incurred a cross last night thinking of Spain and some pretty Spanish girl –
At my desk at 6 55/.. – sent George to tell Kirton of Lower place I wanted to speak to him – he will come from 9 1/2 to 10 – at my travelling Daybook till 8 1/2 – then reading Mr Adam’s note of yesterday on finding instead of the lease merely the draft of it – the draft ‘which has not been engrossed on account of its not having been seen by Mr Kirton, ‘who Mr Briggs said was to peruse it – we will send your account of the coal papers tomorrow’ Fahrenheit 66˚ and fine but dullish morning at 7 –
Read over draft of lease – I will send too for Mr Charles Robinson and tell him too I must have him under lease for the field he has of Yewtrees land – and explain that it was against my orders that Mr Briggs let it at the reduced rent he did and without lease – wrote the following ‘Miss Lister wishes to speak to Mr Charles Robinson respecting the field he occupies, and will be much obliged to him to say at what hour tomorrow he can call at Shibden Hall – Shibden Hall – Thursday 1 September 1831’ –
Breakfast, a weak tea at 9 1/4 Mr Kearton came at 9 3/4 – read him the draft of the lease – and went out with him at 10 1/2 for 1 3/4 hour into every field and about the homestead – then to George Naylor’s for 3/4 hour then discharged Mark Wilcock, Mr Rawson’s gamekeeper, from the upper ground – then home at 1 1/2 – walking about on the flags with my father telling him all that had passed –
Sent George with my note to ‘Mr Charles Robinson’ at 3 1/4 – and off on foot down the Old Bank to Mr Adam at 3 1/4 letter 3 pages and 1 1/2 ends from Mariana (Lawton) and 1 1/4 pages from Isabella Norcliffe (Langton) – Isabella Norcliffe merely thanks for the Amsterdam snuffbox and Charlotte’s for the buckle and the former has got the deputation of Edelthorpe from Norcliffe and will send my aunt some game and [IN] – yesterday just a moment before being off to York? on her way to Croft, and begs me for heaven’s sake to give her a particular account of our tour – our ‘exact tour as this is what I want to know about’ – Mariana much surprised at my ‘letter of Saturday’ – cannot fathom the business – thinks Cordingley abominably ungrateful fears my aunt will be uncomfortable and ‘it will not surprise me to hear by and by that Mrs Cordingley’s stay must depend upon Macdonald’s going – very busy about her club and school – an enormous charge for carriage backwards and forwards of the stockings Watson ordered for me – Mariana dates the last part of letter Thursday morning – must have meant Tuesday? – were to be off that morning at 9 for Leaminton Copp’s hotel – ‘if you can come to Leamington for 4 or 5 comfortable days do, but if it is to be here today and gone tomorrow I am not sure but that may unhinge us both’ can you spare a five pound note if you can, send it to my mother, I was obliged to borrow one from her – I had 3/. left when I reached here’ –
Then I think I shall not go to Leamington, foolish enough in Mariana not to see me however short the time? I will send the money thro cameron?
Down the Old Bank at Mr Parker’s office at 3 35/.. – waited 1/4 hour reading the Leeds Intelligencer – ordered Kearton’s lease to be sent up at 7 on Saturday evening by a person proper to witness the signing of it – spoke of Robinson’s will – said I meant to let this time under lease with restrictions against subletting without consent in writing to double the rent – the notice to quit was sent to Benjamin Bottomley and Mark Hepworth and to Mr Emmett about spoiling the water of the black brook – shewed Mr Adams the Upper Brea paper about the water and got him to write me rough draft of one that would be some security for my having the water – as it is, they can turn it off when they like –
An hour with Mr Adams then returned home by the Cunnery – found that Mark Wilcock was in the ground again – In going to Halifax I had been after a man I saw with a gun, and followed him nearly to the top of Bairstow – [ambler] of north bridge – he civil enough, and went away – about 5 when I got home – saw Mr Sunderland and his party and joined and went all over the upper fields and Bairstow – then came down to the plantation – Wilcock a bird (one dog had before put it up in plantation) under our very noses – this was too bad – I told Mr Sunderland, if one of the fellows dogs had been near enough I would have begged the loan of his (Mr Sunderland’s) double barrelled gun, and shot the dog myself – ranging about lastly along the Hall wood and to the bottom of my walk with Mr Sunderland till did not get home till 6 55/..
Then wrote the following to Mr Rawson ‘Dear Sir, a man of the name of Mark Wilcock, calling himself your gamekeeper after being discharged 3 times in the course of today from shooting on the grounds belonging to Shibden Hall, persisted in returning, and shot 2 partridges to my knowledge, one of them under my own eye and that of several other persons – I can hardly believe such a man to be your keeper, but if he is, I think it right to inform you of his conduct, that I have given instructions to Messers Parker and Adam to summons himself before the magistrates on Saturday, if the matter can be so settled, and if not to bring an action against him – I am, dear sir, very truly yours A Lister, Shibden Hall, Thursday evening 1 September 831.’ – while writing the above a note came from Mr Adam to say that after I left him it had occurred to him ‘that there was an ‘exception in the trespass act which would apply to Wilcock’s case, and on referring it I find the act does not apply to persons qualified and having taken out a certificate if they be following game – I therefore fear there is no remedy against Wilcock but by an action – should you think proper to threaten him with an action thro’ us he very probably will make an ample apology’ …..
Immediately wrote in answer to the above ‘Sir – I was writing a note to Mr Rawson, at the moment of receiving yours – on my return home, I found the man again on the ground; and, under my own eye and that of several other persons, he shot another bird, and continued ranging in one of the plantations in spite of us – I enclose a copy of the note I was writing to Mr Rawson, which I beg you to shew to Mr Briggs, as that will save me all further trouble till I hear from you again – I am, sir, etc. etc. etc. A Lister – Shibden hall – Thursday 1 September 1831.’
Sent off George at 8 1/2 with my note to ‘Christopher Rawson Esquire Hope hall’ and my note to ‘Messers Parker and Adam solicitors Halifax’ – Dinner at 8 1/2 and sat over it till 9 40/.. my aunt with me – then in the little sitting room with the rest till 10 10/.. when came to my room – Fahrenheit 65˚ now at 10 1/4 – very fine day –
Answer Mr Rawson not at home – the note to Messers Parker and Adam given to Mr Parker just returned home after his marriage – note about 9 from Mr Charles Robinson to say he would come at 11 tomorrow a.m.
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7x10
Helloooooo it’s 2:34AM on a Thursday and I’ve stayed up til the wee hours to watch this episode and bring you more thoughts no one asked for but I decided to share anyway! A lot happens this week and I am very scream-y so here we go:
Previously on The 100: The entire first half of the season
Murphy and Emori legit traumatized over this slaughter. These poor beans.
Poor Madi’s actual nightmares have come to life. I respect that she immediately kneels but as Clarke’s child I know she sure as hell isn’t going to take this lying down.
Echo keeps bobbing her head sassily with every line and it’s a little off-putting? Seems like An Acting Choice but it’s an irritating one.
“Get the flock out of here!” Oh my GOD Miller
“The three most dangerous women on this or any planet,” You know it bb.
Y’all were really trying me last week with your “Echo drank the koolaid!” stuff OF COURSE SHE DIDN’T
Murphy ROARING Madi’s name while looking for her! And hugging her so tight! And talking her through a panic attack! I am dead as a doornail folks.
Ugh Cadogan is the literal worst. Him and his awful Jesus hair and his stupid birkenstocks
This Octavia/Clark hug is everything I’ve needed for like five seasons and I CRIED. Her implicit faith that Clarke would eventually storm the place looking for her friends--and Bellamy--that just touches my heart on a deep fucking level.
Hope knowing who they are based on Octavia’s descriptions in amazing. We knew Octavia told Hope about Clarke but I wonder about her stories of Miller. My brother’s best friend? My most loyal soldier? OG delinquent and friend from the dropship days? Everything about this interaction is genius, and then the original kru turning away from Hope and safety to follow Octavia into clear danger is perfect.
My lord Jesus I can’t believe they took the dead and injured Sanctumites to the skeleton room.
This stupid stereotypical millennial meal that Gabriel and Cadogan are eating is so trite. Cadogan comes across as so unhinged while Gabriel is...Gabriel. (I love you. I know your death is approaching and I love you.)
Levitt still stans the delinquents even though Echo just beat the shit out of him. And Octavia walked away from him! I imagine she thinks that she can save Bardo/escape with Echo and he’ll be fine. Just heartbroken.
Hoorah, Jordan is adding something to the plot!
Niylah’s eyebrows are out of control this episode, damn.
What in the fleimkepa fuck is Sheidheda wearing? And his hair?! And...is that eyeliner? He manipulated Indra into single combat with barely a wiggled eyebrow and a flick of his rat-tails.
Um this fight is filmed so dizzily. Was all this shaky camerawork necessary?
MADI I LOVE YOU GIRL. You didn’t kill him but solid effort bb!
I’m here for an episode of Murphy and Emori smuggling the living Sanctumites from house to house just like in Mount Weather. Also, who would have thought King and Queen Cockroach would end up being such a team to root for! Best royals in the history of Sanctum.
I’m really hung up on Echo’s words to Clarke: “You took lives to save the people you loved. This is vengeance.” Is she absolving Clarke, to an extent? Or is it just another way for her to say that she and Clarke are not alike and so Clarke cannot/will not understand her actions?
We don’t even need to talk about Echo saying that Clarke doesn’t know what Bellamy would have wanted, right? Like, she was clearly hysterical and also has forgotten the fact that, uh, Clarke DID die, and Bellamy chose not to take vengeance. I think it’s not only perfectly clear but it’s MEANT to be perfectly clear that Echo’s idea of Bellamy is not the real Bellamy at all.
When Hope slit Anders’s throat I think we all rejoiced.
Oof. Charmaine. When she stuck her hand under that droplet it was for all of them--Hope, Bardo, Octavia--and she did it without thinking. Just reacting. Just saving the world. I loved her. A great, layered character who in two and a half seasons, had some of the best growth and beautiful connections. The perfect depiction of “do better.” I’m wiping away tears as I try to finish this. It’s amazing how this show’s body count never diminishes the emotional impact of the individual characters’ deaths.
THAT PREVIEW THOUGH! BellamyBlakeWatch2020 has ENDED!
In short: Sheidheda and Indra get makeovers, Murphy and Emori become leaders of a small and bedraggled nation, Clarke fails at giving one of Bellamy’s speeches, Cadogan and Gabriel have the worst working lunch ever, white men fail at translations because they forgot Korea exists, and Echo loses her shit...again.
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Eugene’s Curiosity
My first Tangled fic, inspired by a chat with @logical--dreamer. Takes place in the future. In wich Eugene digs himself into a hole of his own doing, Varian is a Good Husband, Cassandra needs love, and Rapunzel has no idea what’s going on but still rolls with it. Also, special thanks to @snowypinkbunnies who helped me with some of the dialogue for this.
Every Thursday, it always happened. For the last two months every Thursday at 7:40 sharp, Cassandra would just randomly disappear. And Eugene had no idea why. And it was KILLING him! What was she doing?! She obviously didn’t want people to see it, so it had to be embarrassing! And if it was embarrassing, he could use it as blackmail!
Despite his rigorous methods to find out (getting Kiera and Catalina to spy on her), he wasn’t any closer than he was when he started. Maybe Varian would know. He was married to Cassandra, after all. If anyone would know what the heck Cassandra did at 7:40 every Thursday, it would be him. He turned around the corner as he walked down the hallway to Varian’s lab.....and saw Cassandra walking in there?! Wait a second....it was 7:40.....it was Thursday....that would mean her secret had something to do with Varian! That was honestly kinda cute, actually.
Sneaking up to the door ot the lab was easy thanks to his thieving skills. He was about to knock on the door, when suddenly he heard their voices.
“Hey, Var...it’s been a really long week. Could you...you know...?” He heard Cassandra say. He bit back a snicker of glee. It must be really embarrassing if she was hesitant to ask her own husband about it.
“Cassie, we’re married. You don’t have to be so embarrassed about asking me that.” Varian said, a little bit of a laugh in his voice. “Still...you’re the only one who’s done it.” Cassandra admitted.
“Don’t worry. Here, lie down.” He heard Varian say gently. Then he heard a clutter; he was probably moving stuff. Then...wait, that sounded like...a sigh? Then another followed, each sounding more pleasure-filled than the last.
“Shh. That’s it, you just relax and enjoy, Cassie.” Varian murmured.
“Little harder.” Cassandra requested.
“Of course.”
Wait...oh...oh GOD!! THIS WAS HER BIG SECRET?!
“Hey! You know that tickles!”
“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”
“Ah!-“
“You okay?”
“Th-That’s good aaaa keep going...”
A grunt of pain was heard.
“Are you okay? Do you wanna stop?”
“No, I’m fine. Keep going.”
“Are you-”
“Hon, I’m fine.”
“Hmm, a little tight this time. Oh, way tighter this time.”
“That’s it, right there.”
Oh HELL to the NO! Eugene didn’t care who heard him, he raced out of that hallway like he was on fire!
Meanwhile, in Varian’s lab, Cassandra let out a happy sigh as she nuzzled deeper into the makeshift couch. “Does that feel better?” Varian asked. “Hmm, I don’t wanna move right now.” She mumbled, “You give the best back rubs.”
“Come on, Cassie. Let’s get you to bed.” He said soothingly. With that, he picked her up bridal style and carried her to their room. He had gotten a lot stronger over the years, but he still couldn’t carry her for too long, so he once again mentally thanked Rapunzel for having their room be so close to the lab. He couldn’t help bug chuckle as he tucked her in. She sleepily nuzzled into the pillow, smiling as Varian brushed away a stray lock of hair out of her face. Although she couldn’t see it, he couldn’t help smiling back at her. Even now, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was that someone like her could marry someone like him. He was eternally grateful that he and he alone was the one she was always vulnerable like this. He loved her so much.
“Alright, I’m gonna keep working.” He informed. He was about to walk off, but Cassandra lazily took his hand and yanked him into the bed with her. She wanted to protest, but then she snuggled into him. He chuckled, and wrapped his arms around her. An evening of cuddling with his wife would beat alchemy any day.
“Woah, you okay?” Rapunzel asked as Eugene entered their room. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. Or something really disgusting. Instead of answering, he simply flopped onto the bed. “No, no I am not. I am now a haunted man. Also, your sister is weird.” He finally said, his voice muffled by the sheets. Rapunzel was confused as to what he meant by that, but kissed him goodnight nonetheless.
The following morning, he wasn’t any better. He kept groaning like he was dying. He didn’t even eat; he just played with his eggs at breakfast. “So, how did your master scheme go last night?” Lance asked teasingly. Eugene snapped his head up, looking a little unhinged. “I do not wish to discuss it.” He said sharply.
“What master scheme?” Rapunzel asked. “Well, see for the past couple months, Eugene has-” Kiera began. “Morning, everyone!” Varian greeted as he and Cassandra entered the dining room. Eugene couldn’t look them in the eye. But he was not only the king, he was a man. And a true man had to deal with his fears. So he did what any true man would do. He bolted out before either Cassandra or Varian could talk to him.
#tangled#fanfic#drabble#varian#cassandra#eugene fitzherbert#flynn rider#rapunzel#kiera#catalina#new dream#cassarian#lance strongbow
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[My Hero Academia Fanfiction]: Like We’re Running Out of Time
For the DabiHawks Gift Exchange 2k18!
@how-to-train-your-kirishima , Surprise! I was your partner for the exchange! Sorry for being a day late, hope you enjoy the fic <3
Rated E
Word Count: 6.2k
Tags: Hooking up, on the DL, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Handjobs, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionism, Light Dom/sub, Light Bondage, quirks used for sex, Overstimulation, Sex Toys, Gift Exchange, dabihawks gift exchange, #NSFWDabihawksGiftExchange, Bottom Dabi (My Hero Academia), Bratty Bottom Dabi is my life force
It’s funny to him how Dabi is both the main source of his stress and the relief at the same time.
Read it on || AO3
1.
Hawks learns early on that Dabi is capricious by nature.
He often wonders if it’s a villain thing or a Dabi thing to be as fickle and unhinged as he is; probably both. So when Dabi unexpectedly grabs him by the sleeve and pulls him into a bar, Hawks decides it’s not worth the effort to fight it. He’d been in a sour mood for most of the night, for reasons which remain a mystery to Hawks, given that Dabi is not much of a sharer.
But now, two hours in and an untold number of tequila shots later, Dabi seems to be in much higher spirits and is once again tugging at his sleeve-- this time they’re headed for the bathroom.
“If you stretch my sleeve out you’re buying me a new jacket,” Hawks mutters. It barely registers over the booming bass coming from the stage at the other end of the bar, and Dabi doesn’t react, so Hawks assumes his complaint went unheard.
They’re barely in the door before Dabi grabs him by the collar and shoves him into one of the stalls. Between the four of them: Dabi, Hawks, and both of his human-sized wings, it’s cramped as all hell in the tiny stall but that makes no nevermind to Dabi, who looks wicked and determined.
“Here ?” Is the only thing Hawks can say when Dabi bites at his lips. Dabi likes to kiss with teeth.
“Yeah.”
This is a popular bar. It’s crowded. There’s people walking in and out of the bathroom as they speak; some laughing, some puking, some thoroughly wasted. Hawks flushes, arousal and anxiety growing the more packed the bathroom gets. He’s not known for his expert silence during sex, and the walls in this bathroom are the kind that carry sound a little too well.
His only saving grace is that, whether for ambiance or frugality, the lighting in here is shit. No one would be sober enough to recognize his silhouette.
“People are gonna hear us, you know.” He whispers.
Dabi kisses him deep and slow, completely unguarded as he wraps an arm around Hawks’ neck. He tastes like a night full of bad decisions. He can feel Dabi smiling against his mouth between kisses and nips, but he doesn’t say anything for a long while. Gradually, his free arm slides down his back, the heat enough to set his feathers quivering against the cold stall wall, over his hip, down between them to cup the prominent bulge in Hawks’ pants.
Dabi is capricious. He lives and fucks like he has nothing to lose.
“Then we’ll make it good for them, too.” He finally says.
And, fuck, it is impossible to say no to him when he starts to sink to his knees, looking up at Hawks with those cold blue eyes as he tugs his zipper down.
Hawks huffs, resigning himself to a blowjob in a dirty toilet stall in a shady bar. This isn’t how he used to spend his Thursdays.
“Or...we can go back to your place, if you’d prefer?” Dabi says with a teasing smile. Hawks glares back down at him. Like hell I’m going anywhere like this. His cock is rock hard in Dabi’s warm hand, and the warmer it gets, the more of a fog Hawks’ mind falls into.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dabi says quietly, laughing. Hawks doesn’t care enough to respond. He leans back against the stall wall, sighing every ounce of tension out of his body as his eyes slide shut. It’s been a long week, and right now, the thought of his cock in Dabi’s mouth is the only thing that is keeping his mood and stress above water.
It’s funny to him how Dabi is both the main source of his stress and the relief at the same time.
He tamps down a throaty moan when Dabi takes the tip in his mouth way too tenderly, gently flicking and circling his tongue over the tip for a bit before taking it a little deeper. The wet sounds of Dabi’s mouth moving over his cock seem to reverberate in the present quiet of the small bathroom.
Right now, it’s empty, so Hawks allows the soft groan that’s been building in the back of his throat to finally escape. Dabi hums around his cock in response, quickening the pace.
“Fu-fuck, Dabi…” Hawks grunts when Dabi takes his full length in his mouth, mouth vacuum tight around his cock. His leg jolts when Dabi releases him with a wet, lewd pop, taking some time instead to suck one of his balls.
His phone starts vibrating in his pocket. It is then that Hawks vaguely remembers that he is still technically on duty, so he’s obligated to check who it is that’s calling. But just as his hand starts to slide into his pocket, Dabi licks up the underside of his dick so torturously slow that all conscious thought leaves him in that moment.
“God, Dabi, I love your fuckin’ mouth,” He moans out loud, the words not coming from his brain, but from every inch, every nerve in his body.
“Yeah, I know you do.” Dabi says with a chuckle before leaning back in to finish him off.
“Do the thing, pl-please,” Hawks begs-- he absolutely hates hearing the need in his tone, but he needs to end this week on a high note, and there is no higher note than the sheer euphoria that comes with the orgasm that Dabi can give him.
“Man, the live band is really awesome tonight, what’s the na-”
Fuck. Some guys just walked in, disrupting the perfect heat and tension in the room. But it’s only for a second. Dabi has him fully in his mouth again, his cockhead hitting the back of his throat hard and fast, and he knows Dabi heard him. He knows Dabi knows what he needs.
If they hear him come, oh fucking well.
Truth be told, his body has been aching for this for weeks, and it will not be denied for a second longer.
“Yo, shh… I think someone’s getting blown in one of the stalls…” Hawks overhears one of them say. He could laugh. That’s putting it pretty fucking mildly, he’d say.
The cat calls start not long after, but Hawks is too far gone to be irritated by it. If anything, it only adds to the mood.
“Suck him good, baby,” One of them says, and he can feel Dabi pause. He slowly pulls back, giving Hawks’ cock a teasing lick.
“Oh, I am,” He calls back, effectively silencing the lot of them, “Now either shut up or fuck off.”
Hawks loves the silence that follows. He’s not sure if they’re still there or not, but he could care less.
Dabi takes him by the tip again, head bobbing good and slow over the turgid flesh. Hawks’ hand flies into Dabi’s hair on reflex, wordlessly begging for that sweet heat. And Dabi always obliges him, if only to hold it over his head later.
His mouth falls open, letting his shuddered and uneven breaths come out unhindered. Dabi’s mouth starts to get hotter as the seconds go by. He doesn’t alter his pace, keeping Hawks on a smooth, slow gradient. But his mouth is fit tight around his reddened cockhead, his soft moans as he moves sending pulses up Hawks’ body as the temperature rises.
Dabi has truly mastered every aspect of his quirk. Hawks both loves and hates how impressive his control is. Both over his quirk, and over both of their bodies.
His climax is not silent, and it’s not gentle.
He chants Dabi’s name over and over again, gripping Dabi’s hair and the stall wall behind him hard as his body spasms and twitches in Dabi’s grip. Dabi keeps blowing him even after he’s spent, relishing in the squeaks and pitchy whines Hawks lets out at the overstimulation. His mouth is still so deliciously hot as it moves over his cock.
“Fuck, you’re so good…” He purrs, delirious with bliss and very, very drunk. Dabi finally lets him go after a few minutes, but not completely. He licks and kisses along Hawks’ cock, from the still oozing tip to the thick vein along the underside.
“...Damn… Can I get next?” The person in the next stall suddenly says.
That's the first and only time Hawks ever sees Dabi genuinely laugh.
2.
Turns out, the call he had ignored was from his overlords at the hero commission. And come the next morning, they are none too pleased with him and his spectacular lack of reportable intel.
“How close do you think you are to gaining entry into the league?”
Hawks sighs. “Frankly, not any closer than I was last time. My, uh-” His cock is still pleasantly sore from the searing blowjob Dabi gave him last night, and it takes a lot of focus for him not to zone out thinking about Dabi and his hellishly hot mouth around his cock.
“-my liaison in the league isn’t known for his… what’s the word I’m looking for here… his, uh, chattiness ,” Hawks helps himself to the glass of water one of the secretaries set down for him. “It’s taking a little longer to crack him than I anticipated.”
His phone buzzes twice while his boss continues to lay out their plans for the league. Hawks discreetly peaks at the screen.
Speak of the devil.
Where r u
Rude. Hawks scoffs as he quickly types a reply.
Busy rn ill text u later
“Hawks, did you hear a word I just said?”
Hawks quickly snaps back to attention. “Yes ma’am. Sorry, got a text from one of my sidekicks. Nothing serious.”
She looks unconvinced, but lets it slide. “Fine.”
His phone buzzes again a few minutes later.
Does it look like i can wait til later?
(1) New image
He shouldn’t open it. Not here, not now. Hawks knows this. This would be the literal worst possible time to see whatever it is Dabi sent him. He knows it’s probably dirty, probably a little x-rated.
And yet, here he is, with his finger still hovering dangerously over the attachment.
Hawks chews his lip. Fuck it.
He opens it. Dabi’s unfairly pretty blue eyes stare back at him, looking incredibly smug for someone who clearly has no clothes on. He’s lying on his stomach, butt naked. From the angle he took the picture at, Hawks can only get a small glimpse of that tight, pert ass over Dabi’s shoulder, but he’s sure that was the point. Dabi only ever shows enough to entice. To incite a reaction.
He’s definitely gotten what he wanted, in that regard.
“Motherfuck,” Hawks pants out loud. Luckily for him, everyone is listening rapt to the presentation and no one hears him. He studies the picture a little more, drinking in the little subtleties. Dabi looks damp, his hair hanging more in his face than usual and curling at the ends. Droplets of water are visible on his bare arms and the top of his chest.
Now it’s Hawks turn to ask.
Where r u?
But after he sends the text, he stares at the picture, sharp eyes zeroing in on a very familiar sight. That plaque on the wall behind Dabi is all too familiar. Because Hawks’ name is on it.
And Dabi’s response confirms what Hawks already knows.
I'm in your room. Hurry up and get here.
Another text comes before Hawks has a chance to fully process the first.
I’ve been lying here fingering myself for the past half hour. Prepping for you.
Hawks can’t help but smile at the marked change in grammar and punctuation that takes place when Dabi sexts him. It’s kind of cute.
Oh yeah? He texts back, Are you nice and stretched for me?
He can feel his cock starting to harden in his pants. Shit.
Dabi’s next text gets him rock solid. He can practically see the smirk on Dabi’s face as he types it out.
No resistance.
“Sorry to interrupt everyone, but I have an emergency that just came up.” Pfff. Understatement of the fuckin’ year.
He waves off their protests and races out of the room without looking back once. He doesn’t bother with the stairs or elevators. Instead, he pushes open a nearby window and jumps out, letting the wind catch his wings. His place is a ways off from this building, but he’s a fast flyer, especially when something worth the strain he puts on his wings is waiting for him.
Because when Dabi says ‘no resistance’, he isn’t just talking about his body.
***********
“I was in a meeting.”
“Don’t care.”
“It was important .”
“And yet here you are, in bed with me.”
Hawks grins against Dabi’s skin, gives it a slow lingering kiss, savoring the tingling in his lips from the warmth. “What can I say? You’re very persuasive. I saved that selfie, by the way. In case I ever need to blackmail you.”
Dabi groans something unintelligible into one of the pillows as Hawks rolls his hips once last time before finally pulling out and lying down next to him on the damps sheets. They lie in comfortable silence for a bit, each coming down from their climaxes, letting their bodies cool off. Hawks’ eyes fall shut and he slings an arm over his eyes with a satisfied sigh.
“I needed that,” He says after a while. His hand moves from its resting place on his stomach, slides down his front to reach for his cock. He tugs the condom off gently and ties it off before tossing it vaguely in the direction of his waste bin. It lands on the floor instead.
Dabi mumbles something in agreement before shifting to a more comfortable position. Well, about as comfortable as he can get really; Hawks’ feathers are tight around his wrists and wrapped around the metal bars of Hawks’ headboard. The bright red against black lacquered metal quickly reminds the both of them of Dabi’s current captivity.
“Are you gonna take these off of me any time soon?”
“What’s the matter sugar , are they too tight?”
He gets the reaction he was hoping for. Dabi turns to him slowly, eyes sharp and irritated behind heavy lids.
“They’re fine. And don’t call me that again.”
Hawks chuckles, biting his lip. He fishes around under the sheet, feeling for the tiny remote that had gotten lost in the midst of the vicious, frantic fucking that had taken place not twenty minutes ago.
“You’re tied to my bed, Dabi,” Hawks says when he finally finds it. He taps “ON” and dials it up to the second setting. Immediately, a soft buzzing whirs from underneath Dabi’s body, and the other man hisses a curse. “I don’t think you’re really in any position to be telling me what do right now.”
He dials it up to three as he lies back, propping himself up on his side. “You bought this ticket, now you’re taking the fuckin’ ride.”
Four.
Dabi’s already panting softly and writhing at the suddenly way too intense stimulation; Hawks licks his lips with a pleased noise as he watches Dabi’s hips start to grind into the mattress. But the bullet strapped to the underside of his cockhead isn’t going to be moved so easily. He made sure of that.
“Fuck,” Dabi moans, his voice rising a couple of octaves. But Hawks can see the smile on his face as he struggles against the intense sensations. He loves this.
“Want it higher?”
Dabi mumbles something that barely sounds human, let alone Japanese. Hawks leans over and gives him a swift slap on the ass. He never thought he’d see the day where he got to hear Dabi, serial arsonist and murderer, leader of the Vanguard Squad of the League of Villains, and Shigaraki Tomura’s right-hand man, yelp like a child, but since they started hooking up, it’s become a sound that Hawks is not only familiar with, it’s one that goes straight to his cock every single time. He strokes himself a few times as he sits up and walks in his knees to seat himself between Dabi's spread thighs. It doesn’t take much effort to get himself fully hard again. Dabi makes for a hell of a sight.
“Words, Dabi. Use your words.” He instructs as he rips open another condom and slides it on.
Dabi licks his lips. “Ye...yes. Higher. Please.”
Hawks shuts it off instead.
The feathers around Dabi’s wrists come undone briefly, if only long enough for Hawks to immediately grab him and roughly flip him over onto his back. They return to their previous position as Hawks makes himself comfortable between Dabi’s spread legs. He scoots in closer and pulls Dabi’s legs further apart, one resting on each side of him and giving him full access to any and every part of Dabi’s body he wants tease.
“That's better,” He says with a chuckle and dials the bullet up from “OFF” all the way to seven.
The noises Dabi lets out are primal.
Hawks strokes himself in time with Dabi’s harsh pants, letting his free hand caress over Dabi’s thighs, his abs, down to fondle his balls, and finally back up to ghost over his cock. Not that that needs any extra help. It’s thick and purpled, and pre-come is already leaking out onto his stomach.
“God, Dabi, you look so fucking hot right now,” Hawks whispers as he reaches for the lube sitting off to the side. He squirts a bit on his fingers and rolls them around to coat evenly.
No resistance. Those are Hawks' favorite words.
He loves the way Dabi’s back arches up off the bed as he slides a finger inside him, his name coming out like a breathy sigh. Hawks likes this side of Dabi the most; the pliant, primal, submissive side, the side that likes to lose itself in pure sensation, in pure ecstasy. Nothing else matters, if only for a while.
He slides a second finger in as he dials it up to eight.
“God, Hawks,” Dabi moans loud, breathing ragged and uneven as his body shudders and squirms and he rolls his hips in Hawks’ grip, wordlessly pleading for the slightest touch. Hawks swears he could blow another load from hearing Dabi say his name like that alone. It won’t be much longer until he loses control and gives in to the urge to plow right back into that perfect, addictive heat, but he staves it off a little longer. Watching Dabi unravel is half the fun, after all.
When he dials it all the way up to the highest setting, Dabi screams bloody murder.
“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” He chants over and over, furiously tapping his hand on the bed. Hawks grins down at him and shuts the bullet off. Dabi moans hoarsely as his head falls back onto the pillow, his entire body visibly unclenching and relaxing into the soft mattress. “Holy shit,” He pants out, trying to catch his breath.
“Aww,” Hawks coos, raking his fingernails up the inside of one of Dabi’s thighs, thoroughly pleased at the violent shiver that travels up the other man’s body at the sensation, “Had to tap out on me, Dabi?”
Dabi tries to kick him. Or at least, that’s what Hawks thinks he’s trying to do, as the only thing Dabi can really manage at the moment is a mumbled curse and a weak spasm of his leg.
“That one...that one is way stronger than the other one,” Dabi chokes out after a minute or two, “I need a few minutes.”
Hawks sits up on his knees and stretches out on top of Dabi, hands on either side of his head.
“Gimme a kiss,” Hawks says quietly.
Dabi leans up obediently, or as much as he can with his hands still bound, still breathing hard and struggling against Hawks’ feather bindings. “Come closer, asshole,” He mutters, trying a few times in vain to reach Hawks, who keeps playfully rearing up out of range. Dabi growls, frustrated, and starts snapping, trying bite instead of kiss.
“Whoa, easy,” Hawks chides, licking his lips, and then he leans down to lick Dabi’s, too. The second their lips brush, Dabi’s mouth falls open and the other man quickly flicks his tongue against Hawks’.
“Want it back on?” He murmurs against Dabi’s lips, licks at them again. Underneath him, Dabi groans and shifts, grinding against him as he wraps his legs loosely around Hawks’ waist.
What he wants doesn’t need to be said.
Hawks fucks into him slow as they continue to kiss and tease, indolent tongues and teeth tasting and biting at the other’s lips and jaws. Sliding inside of Dabi is like sliding into a hot bath; the heat is all-encompassing and travels up his core, up his spine, to every single hair and cell of his body, up to his heart and jars its rhythm. It’s quickly become one of Hawks’ vices, and one that has him in a death grip.
The instant the bullet comes back on, the pace grows feverish. Hawks feels a little lightheaded from the heat in the room; his forehead and back are damp with sweat and beneath him, Dabi’s body is covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, too. But the drag of his slicked cock moving in and out of Dabi’s ass, the low hum of the bullet vibrating between them, steadily growing louder as Hawks dials it back up, and Dabi groaning his name, voice breaking and his body arching against his own… it’s all maddening. He couldn’t stop even if he wanted to, he thinks.
He lets the feathers come undone and hauls Dabi up onto his lap, pulling him flush against him and crushing their lips together. Dabi barely puts up a struggle, even as Hawks roughly yanks his long legs and secures them around his waist. Being the taller of the two doesn’t mean much, they both realized early on. Dabi may have height, firepower, and an attitude problem, but not much else. Hawks is stronger, much more powerful, body rough-hewn from hero work, and he loves to remind Dabi of that fact every time they fuck.
Dabi leans in his ear. “Oi, your phone’s ringing.”
Hawks responds by sitting up on his knees and hoisting Dabi up higher, grip firm on his thighs and ass as he bounces him on his cock.
“Fuck it,” Hawks grunts as he thrusts hard up into Dabi, “It can wait.”
It keeps buzzing on Hawks’ nightstand, but it barely registers when Hawks dials the bullet back up to max.
*******
“I called you four times last night,” Miruko says loudly when he meets her for breakfast the next morning, their weekly tradition. “Where the hell were ya?”
“I turned in early last night,” Hawks lies smoothly. Too smoothly, he thinks with a grimace. It’s become second nature.
“You? Sleepin’ early ?” Miruko parrots as she stares at him, unconvinced, “You sick or somethin’?”
Hawks shakes his head, stifling a yawn. “Nah, I’ve just been going a little too hard lately, maybe.”
That’s a definite understatement, he thinks to himself. Too hard is right. His entire body is still sore from the ridiculous, straight-out-of-the Kama Sutra position they finished each other off in. His lips snag his bottom lip as the events of the night before play on a reel in his mind. God, that orgasm was more than worth the effort and the soreness. Dabi rides dick like no one else Hawks has ever had. It’s a little unfair. Hawks knows he’s good, but Dabi is like a divine being when he’s on top.
His cock twitches to life in his pants and Hawks flushes. This is really not the time to be thinking about this.
He tucks into food with forced vigor, eating quietly as Miruko recants the story of her latest criminal conquest, dropping in the odd “wow” and “you’re amazing, dude” at the appropriate times, but inside his head, he’s miles away, back up in his apartment with Dabi wrapped around him.
3.
It’s been nearly three weeks since the last time they hooked up, hell, since the last time he saw or heard from Dabi period, and Hawks is irritated and, if he’s honest with himself, embarrassed, by how on edge he’s been since then. His leg is bouncing under his desk at a hundred miles an hour, and has been for most of the time he’s been sitting.
His sidekicks are giving their reports on pending cases and cleanups, but Hawks just can’t seem to focus on anything anyone is saying.
“Hawks, sir?”
“What?” He snaps. His sidekicks all jump back at his tone. Hawks is a tough boss to work for, but he’s never once yelled at his sidekicks. He sighs apologetically, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands.
“Sorry,” He mumbles. “I’m not feeling like myself tonight. I didn’t mean to take it out on you all. Sorry.”
One of his sidekicks hazards a step forward. “Uh, should we, um… should we give you the rest of the stats and stuff later?”
Hawks inhales deeply, lets it back out. “...Yeah,” He nods after a brief pause, “That would be better. Give me ten minutes.”
They all nod in affirmation before filtering out of his office one by one. Hawks pays no mind to the hushed chatter or concerned looks over their shoulders as they leave. When his office is empty, Hawks stands up from his desk with a tired groan, stretches his arms up until his back cracks as he crosses to the other side of the room, and flings himself face first down onto his couch.
“Fuck this,” He mutters into the couch cushion.
He lies there for a long time, unmoving, just breathing and thinking. Thinking about nothing in particular, about everything.
His phone buzzes loudly over on his desk just as he starts to drift off, and Hawks considers just letting it ring. But he’s gotten yelled at enough lately for missing important calls, and he’s over that. He pushes himself up off the couch, cursing softly to himself. It stops ringing the second he reaches his desk and picks it up.
(1) Missed Call from:
Crispy Bacon McMurder
Hawks snorts, his mood instantly lifting. Oh boy, if only Dabi could see his nickname in Hawks’ phone. He’d roast him alive.
Hawks hits redial, waits for a few seconds. Dabi finally answers on the third ring. Over time, Hawks has learned to differentiate regular, moody Dabi from genuine emotion Dabi. Dabi’s face isn’t nearly as expressive as his tone.
“Where are you?” Tonight, he sounds annoyed.
Nonetheless, Hawks cradles his phone in the crook of his neck as he leans against his desk, folding his arms across his chest. He hasn’t exactly been shooting rainbows out of his ass either, and he’s in no mood for Dabi’s bitchiness tonight. “Tch, hello to you, sunshine.”
Over the line, he hears Dabi suck his teeth.
“I’m working.”
“You on patrol?”
“No, I’m at the agency, finishing up some paperwork right now. Is this League business or you business?”
Silence on the other end.
Hawks waits, listening to Dabi’s quiet breathing on the other end. After a beat, Dabi sighs and chuckles, his low, smooth baritone enticing and disarming, no matter the tone in it. Hawks feels a smile pulling at his mouth. He shakes his head at himself.
Dare he say it, he actually kind of missed Dabi over these past few weeks.
“I guess it’s a little of both, ” He finally says, his tone taking on a lighter, more playful edge. Hawks wets his lips, smile growing a little more. He likes it when Dabi gets playful. He can’t even really explain why, beyond the obvious reason that he’s sure he’s going to get laid at some point in the near future. Right now, that’s enough for him to go on. He’s running on fumes.
“Wanna meet up somewhere?”
“Yeah.”
Just then, there’s a knock at the door.
“Okay. The usual place, ten minutes.” He mutters quickly into the phone and hangs up just as one of his sidekicks pokes his head back in. “Listen,” He interjects before the guy has a chance to even greet him, “I’m gonna head out really quick. I’ll be back in half an hour.”
“Oh, uh, but-”
“I’ll hear the rest of the stats later.” Hawks says impatiently as he shucks his coat on and adjusts the collar, along with his visor.
“Is this something you need help with? One of us can accompany you if you want, sir.” His sidekick calls out after him.
Hawks doesn’t even turn back. “Nah, this is something I need to do alone. Later.”
********
The warehouse is a bittersweet place for Hawks. Coming here always makes him uneasy, but it’s the most convenient place for both of them, equidistant from Hawks’ agency and from Dabi’s-- the League’s-- hideout, though the exact location is, as of yet, unknown to Hawks.
Dabi is already waiting for him when he gets there exactly ten minutes later on the dot, leaning against a large crate and halfway through what is probably his second or third cigarette. He blends into the darkness like a bad dream, the only hint that he’s there is his eyes shining and the orange tip of the cigarette as he inhales.
He looks so fucking good right now.
And frankly, Hawks had intended to talk League business first; he told himself over and over on the way that his mission must always take priority. It’s a talk he’s had with himself many times since meeting Dabi, and it’s gone out the window virtually every time once things got physical.
And tonight, he concedes, defeated, will be no different.
The second they lock eyes, Dabi smirks at him and he flicks his cigarette away, his eyes flashing with an intensity that pushes what little rational thought that is left out of Hawks’ mind as he closes the distance between them.
Coats and shirts begin to litter the floor within minutes of their heated collision, the both of them needy and eager. And pressed for time. Hawks can feel it in the way Dabi claws at him more desperately than usual, hands roving over every inch of skin he can get his hands on, greedily drinking in his moans as they kiss hard.
A few more minutes , Hawks thinks. He’ll allow himself a few more minutes and then it’s down to business.
But then Dabi moans something filthy in his ear and then starts to suck at his bottom lip. Fuck it. That’s also something Hawks finds himself saying and thinking often, nowadays. His sidekicks will just have to wait for him, for once.
He immediately shoves Dabi hard up against one of the man-sized crates, fumbling with both of their belts.
“We gotta do this quick,” He says between grunts and kisses.
“I know,” Dabi responds with equal fervor, already shoving his pants and boxers down.
“Give me the lube.”
Dabi pauses to look at him, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t have any lube.”
Hawks freezes. “Shit, me neither.”
The two of them stand there for a beat, staring at each before finally, Dabi’s head falls back against the crate, a rueful smile on his face. “Well, fuck us.”
Hawks leans in and kisses him deep. Despite the time crunch, it’s slow and languid and deliciously warm. Fuck it. Seriously. He’s been so high-strung these past few weeks, he needs this. It doesn’t have to be full-on sex, he just wants to be close to Dabi for a bit. And clearly, Dabi is having similar thoughts.
The other man cups his face, angling his head to deepen the kiss. Between them, his hand creeps down and brushes over Hawks’ bare cock, stroking it.
“Mm,” Hawks moans low when he pulls away briefly. He mimics Dabi and takes his cock in his hand, stroking it in time with Dabi’s hand.
“I can get by with a handy,” Dabi says against his lips, “For now, anyway.”
Hawks chuckles. “Yeah.”
By the time their paces reach fever pitch, his phone is already buzzing in his back pocket, his sidekicks wondering where the hell their boss has run off to, no doubt. People really have the worst timing, Hawks thinks. But their passionate fervor makes quick work of the both of them. Dabi groans into his neck just as it stops, coming in a few quick spurts into his hand, Hawks’ name falling way too softly from his lips. Hawks had finished only seconds before, and is still coming down from his own orgasm as he brings Dabi to his.
The two of them take a brief moment of respite, kissing and touching, basking in the altogether much too brief afterglow their respective obligations allow them.
“So,” Hawks begins after some time, pulling away to make himself decent, “What did you want to tell me?”
Dabi is already dressed again and lighting up another cigarette, back to his usual aloof self. The only evidence of what just transpired between them is the faint flush of his face and his ears, and his still somewhat heavy breathing.
God, if only they had the time. The things he would do to Dabi all over this dirty warehouse.
“I have some exciting news,” Dabi says, exhaling smoke in a thin tendril, “Boss wants to meet you.”
Hawks pauses. “Really?”
“Yeah, Hawks. Really.”
“When?”
Dabi shrugs. “Dunno yet. He just happened to mention it the other day, and asked me to pass the message along. But relatively soon, I figure.”
Dabi pauses to take a long drag. “He’s got some plans in the works, currently,” He says before exhaling the thick plume all in one shot, “and he’s gonna need someone on the inside. He’s ready to give you a chance to prove yourself and your loyalty to our cause.”
Hawks remains silent, contemplating Dabi’s words --and the thinly veiled threat in his tone.
“What do you think?”
Dabi takes one last puff before flicking his cigarette butt away. “What do I think of what?”
“Do you think I’ve proven myself?”
Dabi doesn’t respond right away, instead taking the time that they don’t have to calmly finish his cigarette. Hawks quickly gets the sense that Dabi is purposely letting him dangle, relishing the suspense. There’s always time to see someone squirm, as far as Dabi is concerned.
He only gives in after Hawks make an impatient noise and shrugs his coat on with more force than necessary. “I told him that we can trust you.” Dabi says quietly, pushing himself up off the crate and once again closing the distance between them, this time with none of the urgency from before.
Dabi cups his neck, thumb over Hawks’ jaw tenderly. Or at least, there is an illusion of tenderness. Dabi’s eyes have taken on that cold, hard edge that sinks like a stone in Hawks’ stomach.
“I can trust you, right?”
He’s gotten way too good at lying lately.
“...Yes, Dabi. You have my loyalty. I swear.”
Dabi presses his forehead against Hawks'. It's much too affectionate, Hawks thinks, starting to feel anxious. Certainly much too out of character for Dabi. Hawks swallows hard, hoping Dabi can't feel how tense he is. He can handle bitchy. He can handle needy and horny. Hell, he can handle rage and he could handle it if Dabi had his hand on his throat to choke the life out of him. But this is the one version of Dabi he hasn't trained himself to handle yet: vulnerable. And because of that, this is the most dangerous version.
Because nothing is ever off the table with Dabi, especially when his guard is down. He knows how fickle Dabi can be, after all.
The other man closes his eyes, sighing as he brushes their noses together. His warm hand is still firm on Hawks' neck, easing the tension in Hawks' neck and shoulders.
Again, Hawks positively hates how Dabi can be both the source of his stress and the source of his relief from that stress.
"Good, because I want you with us when we make our move," Dabi says quietly. His grip tightens slightly, massaging into Hawks' skin.
"Don't ever betray me, little bird."
And with that, he pulls away completely and departs without another word, leaving Hawks vulnerable to the sudden and intense chill that passes through the empty warehouse; though, Hawks can't quite say how much of it is simply the night breeze and how much is his nerves fraying at the ends.
He takes flight not long after Dabi leaves, the other man's words still echoing in his head as he lands on the roof of his agency, where a few of his lead sidekicks are already waiting for him.
Don't ever betray me, little bird.
I won't. Hawks had wanted to say out loud. But in the end, it's best if he keeps those words to himself, because he's not sure he doesn't mean them anymore.
#NSFWDabihawksGiftExchange#dabihawks#spicywings#how-to-train-your-kirishima#fanfiction meme#bnha fanfiction
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Stuck Inside Media Diary Week 3
People ask me (no one asks me) all the time why I don’t include the music or podcasts I listen to or books I read when I put this list together once a week. It’s pretty simple: I’m a huge dumbass.
Sunday, April 5
Better Call Saul, [Season 4] “Wiedersehen”, “Winner”, [Season 5] “Magic Man”
This was a real milestone for me, made me feel real good in a very inconsequential way. I got caught up to a show that is currently airing on TV;it’s true what they say: it’s a sprint not a marathon. It feels silly to say or compare BTS to Breaking Bad, and acting as if you can only like one by saying X is better than Y. The closest comparison that I feel “comfortable” with making is that this is just a real Cheers vs. Frasier debacle. Both are close to, if not, model examples of their type and no one is gonna look down on you if you like them. Though there is a certain type of snobbishness to being a bigger Frasier/Better Call Saul fan-very white collar attribute.
Lady Macbeth, Oldroyd 2016 [as of now this is available on Hulu]
So I really only watched this because Florence Pugh is in this and I saw somewhere on twitter (what a source!) that it was essential viewing for Pugh-heads. Or something like that;I’m probably paraphrasing. Full disclosure: I have an enormous crush on Florence Pugh. Did this influence how much I liked this movie? I liked it fine, at a certain point you kinda go “I get it” and that’s about as much substance as it has, but man oh man, Florence Pugh is really good in this. Curious how much of this played a part in Ari Aster wanting her in Midsommar which she.....might just be too good for? I dunno man, there’s a lot of other things I’d rather do than talk about that movie. It reminded me of Revolutionary Road. How so? My senior year of college I borrowed it from a friend and when we had lunch like three weeks later and I gave it back to her she asked how I liked it and my honest to God reaction was “heh, man, how about that ending” which is 100% not the answer you want to give to a woman you have an innocent crush on who lent you her copy of Revolutionary Road.
Monday, April 6
After Hours, Scorsese 1985
I’ve owned this for a little over a year saving it for a special occasion or like when I feel like I’ve owed myself a little treat (that’s how much I believe in Martin Scorsese) so I watched it on my birthday. And because I am one of those assholes who posts what they’re watching or listening to on Instagram I had done that with this and one of my buddies who I just don’t text back because I’m busy with nothing and am bad at it (Cole and Max amongst others, this is for you!) said “the Safdies owe their whole shit to this and that’s okay.” Couldn’t’ve said it better myself. (Not since Uncut Gems have I felt a very specific kind of *wired* after a movie; granted it hasn’t been very long since I saw Uncut Gems, but let’s consider this one of those if you know you know things)
Tuesday, April 7
Killing Them Softly, Dominik 2012 [as of now this is available on Netflix]
Subtle is not a word I would use with some of the themes of this movie, but that just doesn’t really matter. This movie’s rad as hell and it doesn’t make a ton of sense that I hadn’t seen it until last week. Like, what a tense goldmine of character actors and this might be the first time I’ve heard Mendelsohn speak in his natural speaking voice (the episode of Girls that he’s in where he plays Jessa’s dad might actually be the first, but he’s supposed to be British in that and it’s been a while since I’ve seen that episode, so I’m just guess off the top of my head that he put a twist on his voice). Like Sam Shepard is the 8th guy in this movie! What a great audition tape to submit to Fincher.
The Plot Against America, “Part 1”
David Simon is my favorite dramatist in Television and it takes a lot of effort for me to keep with his shows. I don’t know why. The first time I watched The Wire I watched like 5 or 6 episodes and took maybe a month long break and picked it back up. He makes ear-worms, stuff that get’s lodged in my brain as responding very positively to what he makes (the same thing happened with Treme [never finished], Show Me A Hero [never finished] and The Deuce [never finished]) and I really don’t want it to happen again. He just tends to make stuff you have to be very dialed in for and my brain, for the most part, is mush a lot of the time. I will finish this though. Also I’ve never read the book (but I definitely own it!) so I don’t know how it holds up to source material blah, blah, blah.
Wednesday, April 8
The Running Man, Glaser 1987
I just wanted to watch Total Recall. This was the next best thing available on my DVR. It is not Total Recall (I’m sure it’s a very well known story and I just don’t know it, but is there a story about why Ventura doesn’t fight Arnold at the end? Seemed weird). Also Mick Fleetwood is in this and plays an interracial part to the resistance and his “character’s” name is “Mic.”
Thursday, April 9
Better Call Saul “50% Off”
Brooklyn Nine-Nine “Valloweaster”
For the record, I’ve been watching B99 all season and I just haven’t thought to add this. Same deal with Top Chef (see below). Have loved this season so far, but they’ve hit their stride (which they always do) in the last three weeks. Love that they still incorporate the Halloween heist in different capacities even though they don’t have episodes in the Fall anymore.
Top Chef Season 17, Ep. 4
Great episode. Sometimes it takes Top Chef about 3 or 4 episodes to really get going and the lower tiered competitors are starting to get on the nerves of higher tier chefs and the sense of urgency, re: competition finally has a fire lit under it. I also love that when this show first started whenever they had to do a vegetarian challenge the general consensus was “ah fuck this, I don’t know how to do that.”
Onward, Scanlon 2020 [as of now this is available on Disney+]
I started watching this at like 1 in the morning, because I needed to watch something for the day, because I’m trying to keep this streak going. Whatever, it sucks that Pixar has to meet a quota or something now-a-days (have I mentioned that I had to travel in the snow when I went to school and that it was up-hill both ways). I guess if there was one for them that they could kind of just shoo off to the Ploos early they got lucky that it was this one. Again, whatever.
Friday, April 10
Best Friends, Jewison 1982
Man, Goldie Hawn was great. Man, Burt Reynolds was an underrated comedic actor and also very hot.
Better Call Saul, “The Guy For This”
Saturday, April 11
Better Call Saul, “Namaste”, “Dedicado A Max”, “Wexler V. Goodman”, “Jmm”, “Bagman”
I’m gonna miss my binge days of BTS, but again, this feels like a real accomplishment that I got here. Love this damn show.
The Untouchables, De Palma 1987
Kevin Costner has such cop-face in this movie and it’s almost like Andrew Garfield in Silence: I don’t know if I particularly like it and this is such a punchable face that I have to stare at for so long, but maybe that’s the point?
I made a DeNiro Top 5 and I might have regrets now for making it before seeing this, because you rarely get to see unhinged Bobby D and it is fun. As fun as the “another coat of glaze” performance Connery has in this movie (that beat out Albert Brooks in Broadcast News, something 1987 Sam would’ve come unglued at). Fun movie that is so bizarrely lauded-maybe a perfect time capsule movie for when it came out. It also made me realize that De Palma is like a better Tim Burton, because he has better friends.
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Big Little Lies Section Three
Chapters 38-51
1. What does Celeste decide to do to impress Susi?
She takes a six month lease on an apartment and furnishes it so she’ll be ready to use it at a moment’s notice. It’s not near where they live now. She also plans to tell Susi that she has a friend who offered her a job a year ago and she’s sure that friend could still find something for her. If not, there are bigger firms that are just a short ferry ride away. And even though she’s doing this to impress Susi, it’s also kind of comforting to Celeste. Because one of the biggest reasons why she’s never left Perry is because she isn’t sure where she’d go. And now she has a fully furnished apartment which she plans to keep with a fridge full of food so the next time Perry hits her, all she has to do is go.
2. How does Ziggy react when Jane asks him about Amabella?
He is super weird about it and says he doesn’t want to talk about it. He refuses to either confirm or deny that he’s the bully. And that’s not like Ziggy? But this concerns Jane, because he didn’t deny it, so she makes an appointment with a psychologist just to get another opinion about whether Ziggy might have inherited some personality traits from his father.
3. What does Madeline learn about Saxon Banks when she mentions his name to Celeste?
It turns out Saxon Banks is Perry’s cousin. And it’s the same Saxon Banks Madeline round when she looked him up online. And this news distresses Celeste because she actually really likes Saxon. He seems like a really nice man and she says he’s absolutely devoted to his wife. Madeline can’t see him cheating on his wife or being so cruel to anyone else. But, then again, Perry doesn’t seem like the type either. And it turns out that Perry’s and Saxon’s mothers are twins. So biologically, they’re more like brothers. Which makes Celeste wonder if there’s just some ~glitch in their DNA.
4. What does Madeline see on Abigail’s Facebook that concerns her?
Abigail has changed her profile picture to a full body of her doing a yoga pose. And a girl who Madeline says is toxic and Abigail isn’t really friends with comments and asks if Abigail is using the picture for her “project” or if it isn’t sexy/slutty enough. And Abigail replies saying that’s top secret. Well, the reply says it was sent five minutes ago and it’s well after midnight. So she’s mad about that because are there no rules at Nathan’s house??? But also Abigail has tutoring in the morning and should be in bed early for that. So she messages her, telling her to go to bed because she has tutoring. Abigail replies saying that Nathan has cancelled the tutor which, of course, Madeline absolutely freaks out about.
5. How does Jane handle the women who she sees gossiping about her and Ziggy at school?
Well at first she leaves but then she turns around and comes back and basically just starts yelling at them about how Ziggy has never hurt anyone. Which sounds great in theory, but I think she could’ve executed it a little better since she came off a little unhinged, haha. She mostly just keeps repeating that Ziggy has never hurt anyone. And her approach doesn’t really help because then the other parents just start wondering if Jane has psychological problems and if that’s where Ziggy gets it. Great. Awesome. These other parents are terrible.
6. What does Jane say to Amabella during reading time?
First she asks if Amabella knows that Jane is Ziggy’s mother, which Amabella says she does. Then Jane asks if Ziggy has been hurting Amabella. She says if he has, she just needs to know and she’ll make Ziggy stop. And instead of answering, Amabella immediately bursts into tears. And that’s when Harper appears and thinks that now Jane has been hurting Amabella. And she basically completely ignores Jane and tries talking to Amabella. But Jane actually tries ~comforting Amabella. So Jane and Harper just end up getting into a screaming match with attracts Stu, who had been reading with another student at the bottom of the hill. So. Now Jane seems really unhinged. It’s fine.
7. How does Celeste respond when Perry asks if he should sign the petition?
She says that she’ll leave him if he signs the petition. Which sounds like it’s meant to be a joke except her tone is wrong. She’s completely serious. And when Perry “plays along” and does laugh and hugs her, she doesn’t smile.
Section Three Reading Journal
Okay so. I don’t think I have much to say about this section. There were a lot of interesting things in this section but I am honestly so excited about the last section!!! I can’t wait to read it. I am loving this reread so much!
But, also, want to take a second to say that some parents are TERRIBLE and I love how the problem in this book isn’t so much with the kids as it is with the other parents. And how the other parents treat each other. So. People are so fun, aren’t they??? And also, if I were Jane I definitely would’ve yelled at those two women a little differently. Because how bitchy can you be to start a petition about a FIVE YEAR OLD. Have you never heard of nurturing???? Also I would hate to be the child of one of those women. /rant. That’s just a thing that always bugs me though?? When you see how some people treat other people and you’re like what are you teaching your children?????
*ahem* Anyway. Can’t wait to finish this book!!! This has been a super enjoyable reread!!!
(Also I am currently hotspotting from Dalton's phone to post this since I won't be going out of town for the foreseeable future. But we're getting our internet hooked up on Thursday!!! So I should finally be fully back, and actually get the next section of It posted. YAY!!!)
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The principal at the kindergarten I started teaching at last week told my coteacher I need to stay after for some kind of “training” on Thursday. My immediate reaction was “clearly I’m not doing what they want and I suck and they hate me, with good reason because I don’t know what I’m doing” and my second reaction was “Literally no one has told me what I’m actually supposed to do, I was initially handed a stack of flashcards and nothing else until someone found one copy of the small and middle class books (but not the big class, and not even the teacher’s edition!) and some DVDs- except that the kids themselves have no books, either the school computers won’t work for the DVD or the projectors are broken or both, and there’s no whiteboard because it’s a “smartboard” which is fantastic when the projector breaks...yes, please give me some training so that I know what the hell you expect me to achieve with the resources I’ve been given.”
I’m also taking over one of The Brits’ morning classes at a different kindergarten (I really hope the schedule doesn’t keep changing weekly like this for the rest of the semester). I hoped he would give me all the pertinent information in one go without me having to keep asking and asking about what material he’s teaching and how, but that was not the case and eventually I just felt like I was being annoying and gave up.
I dunno, man. I need to de-stress and vent out loud to someone but I don’t know anyone here who’s not a coworker (or dating a coworker) besides my tutor (who’s out of town this week), and I don’t know any of them well enough to trust them not to sell me out for fresh whiteboard markers. From what The Brits started telling me on my first night here, this place has seen a lot of unhinged foreign teachers (they recounted the story of one midnight runner), although I wonder if they started out fine and slowly got worn down. I pride myself on being able to flexibly tolerate a lot more uncertainty and vagueness about what the hell is going on the future than a lot of people but there’s still a limit to how much I can numb my internal panic (it’s not to say I don’t get upset, I’ve just gotten good at pretending nothing’s real and calmly speaking in a monotone).
The saving grace is that the hours really aren’t bad and I can come back to my apartment whenever I don’t have class- because it’s well-lit with an interesting view, and furnished, I can sit on the sofa at the coffee table and feel like I’m a normal human enjoying my living space instead of being a depressed hermit in a dark cave confined to a mattress on/near the floor like in Taipei and Portland. Also I bought a can of what was labeled “Chili Tuna - Product of Thailand” at Walmart yesterday because it looked fun but was actually just a can of tuna soaking oil with several little red chilies that had that acrid smell of “going to burn your tongue off” when I opened it. This means my sinuses are officially clear and I want to actually try going running now that I’ve checked out the walkway along the canal from end to end. I am determined to process my stress in a way that doesn’t involve bars, cigarettes, or sleep deprivation on a work night this time.
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