#this post it totally not directed towards someone who definitely does not have a tumblr haha

[vampyrz-paramour]

I FUCKING LOVE IT when he is spooky af. ominous af. scary af. a little bit of a loser and a stalker. i NEED a CLINGY BOY <3!!

[talkfastromance4]

Indigo--Calum Hood [one]

A/N: I can’t believe it’s finally arrived! Thank you all for being so patient while it took me literally two months to write this fic. It’s my first ever slow burn and the longest fic to date (word wise). This means so much to me and I really put my heart and soul into this. This is also written in Calum’s perspective!

Word count: 12.2k (36k total)

Warnings: themes of emotional infidelity but really all internal with no actions,  confusing emotions and thoughts, nudity, slight mention of body image issues, casual drinking, jealousy, sexual situations

Masterlist

Indigo playlist--really just songs that helped inspire this piece so give it a listen if you’d like!

Feedback is always welcome and I’d love to hear your thoughts on this! 

This is split in three parts because Tumblr's new post limit I can't fit it all in one post. So I'll be posting them all at once!

Enjoy!

***

Calum agreed to help out Sarah and Andy with their latest project. He wasn’t quite sure what it was exactly but anything they create is phenomenal and he’s ecstatic to be a part of it. He’d just texted Bianca, his girlfriend, that he’ll be gone for a better part of the afternoon when he arrives at Sarah and Andy’s place. Pebbles greets him at the door, her whole body wiggling with excitement by his presence.

“There’s our man!” Sarah chirps from the table, her camera and other gadgets placed on the table.

“We aren’t shooting here?” Calum asks bending down to pet Pebbles.

“No, there’s this meadow that gets the sun’s rays perfectly at this time,” Andy informs walking in with his own camera bag. “We’re meeting someone else there, too so we should get going.”

“Someone else?”

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

The sun is beating down on Calum’s back as he walks through the tall grass behind Sarah and Andy. They’re a good distance away from the road and he hopes they won’t go too much further and land in the fate of a 90’s horror film. Andy and Sarah are talking quietly with each other and Calum checks his phone, no new messages from Bianca.

“All right, we’ll start setting up and you just sit and relax until she gets here,” Andy directs to Calum when they stop at a fallen tree that has moss growing on it and its roots extending to the sky.

“Who is ‘she’?” Calum asks, taking a seat on the tree. He wipes at the back of his neck, it’s sticky with sweat. His lips are starting to get chapped and he wishes he brought his water bottle.

Andy and Sarah exchange a look.

“She’d prefer to be anonymous so I can’t tell you,” She responds ominously and unzips her camera bag.

“Anonymous?” Calum is baffled. Andy and Sarah make a point to avoid the topic as they continue to gather their equipment.

In about ten minutes there was another figure walking through the grass and Calum peered at her trying to get a good look. Her hair was blowing in the slight breeze and bangs framed her face. Calum was intrigued when she was first mentioned.

Watching her walk towards them made him think of those snapshots in your life that sticks with you. Something inside of him told him this would be one of those moments.

She was short, which was the first thing he noticed when she stopped in front of him.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late. Traffic, y’know,” she smiles at Andy and Sarah.

He notices there’s a hint of purple in her hair.

She’s short and has purple hair.

“No problem, sweetie. We were just getting things ready. This is Calum,” Sarah nods towards him and the mystery girl turns in his direction too.

“Hi Calum, thanks for helping,” she smiles.

“No problem, Anonymous,” he grins standing from his tree and holds out his hand.

“Oh, right,” she snickers, stepping forward to take his hand. “You can call me Indie.”

She’s short, has purple hair, and likes to be called Indie.

“Nice to meet you Indie.”

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Andy and Sarah first have Calum and Indie sit next to each other on the tree while they take some sample shots. This way Calum and Indie can get to know each other a little better. Calum notices the ink on her wrists, arms, and a nose piercing. She asked about his music and what inspires him. He asked what she does and she very offhandedly said with a shrug,

“Social media stuff.”

And that was the end of that. She didn’t add anything more and Calum wasn’t sure if he should ask for her to clarify but her statement had a tone of finality to it.

She definitely intrigues Calum.

“Okay, Indie, can you swing your leg over the tree like you’re riding a horse and lean on Calum’s shoulder?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah.”

Indie does as she’s directed then rests her arm on Calum’s shoulder, her head dropping on top of her arm.

“Both of you look at me...good, now Cal, look down at Indie...good, good. Okay, now I want you to put your leg over his...close your eyes for me, babe. That’s it! Beautiful.”

They continue with different poses on the tree and each touch Indie gives to Calum makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His body becomes attuned to her touch until Sarah tells Indie to undo her shirt and lay her head on Calum’s lap.

Calum swallows thickly and watches Indie undo the buttons. He looks away quickly wanting to give her privacy and instead looks towards the direction of the road hoping they’re far enough away from peering eyes.

“Now lie across his lap and let the shirt fall over his legs. Yup, Cal... Calum!”

“Huh?” Cal whips his head forward and feels the weight of Indie’s head on his knees. He’s forcing himself to not look down but his body is aware of her weight on him.

He knows this is all a form of art, but he just met the girl and he was unaware this is how the shoot was going to go. He’s posed shirtless for Andy and Sarah multiple times but never with someone else. And never with a girl with purple hair, a gentle voice, and a pen name.

“Lay your arm over her chest.”

“What? Is that okay?” he looks down to Indie’s eyes, they’re a striking deep blue. Like the deepest part of the ocean and he gets a little lost in them. “Is that okay that I do that?” he asks her this time.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” she nods with a smile. “Thank you for asking.”

Calum carefully places his arm across Indie’s exposed chest; he notices how warm her skin already is from the sun but also feels the small poke of her nipples on the softest part of his arm.

“Cover her nipples a bit, Cal, she’s going to post these on her Instagram and you know their dumbass guidelines about breasts,” Sarah rolls her eyes adjusting her camera.

Calum adjusts his arm which means he has to look where her nipples are. He knows the human body is art in its natural form, and he admires the female body so why is he nervous? Is it because they literally just met and her top is open?

He curses himself. It’s not like they’re making an adult film or anything, this is an artistic moment. Shit, why did he think of an adult film because now a million different scenarios flash in his mind. While he places his arm across her chest, he sees some more ink below her breasts but he can’t quite make out the design.

“Indie, put your hands on his arm, spread your fingers…”

Calum hears the rapid shutter speed of her camera as she captures the intimate moment between strangers. Calum wonders why he was chosen to do this. Obviously, Michael wasn’t at the top of the list because he and Crystal are married, and Luke and Sierra just announced their engagement. KayKay is no novice in front of the camera, but maybe they wanted a girl and guy? Usually, Ashton is up for anything involving the human body.

“Cal, you have your thinking face on, man. Relax,” Andy says.

“Don’t be nervous,” Indie whispers gazing up at him.

Those damn blue eyes again. The purple in her hair really makes them pop and he notices a small freckle at the corner of her eye.

“You’re not?” his voice is hushed so Andy and Sarah don’t hear.

“Of course, I am, this is way out of my comfort zone. But this is art, and I want to explore it,” she shrugs.

It eased him that she was nervous as well. He took a deep breath and fixed her bangs in her face.

“That’s good, that’s really good, act natural,” Sarah advises.

“I like the purple,” he compliments, “it really comes out in the sun and makes your eyes stand out.”

“Thank you. I can’t really see your face because of the sun,” she squints up at him and giggles. Calum smiles at the sound.

The session continues and eventually Calum removes his shirt as well which he’s thankful for because he was starting to sweat. He told himself it was because the sun is at its hottest spot in the sky, not because of some cute girl with purple hair and tattoos with her shirt open.

He leans forward on his knees with Indie standing behind him and the tree, her chest pressed to his back and her hands locked under his neck. He wonders if she can hear how loud his heart is beating.

Another pose has him sitting in the grass with her legs hanging over his shoulders. Calum tickles her toes and she squeals out in laughter and Calum knows those will be great shots.

“Hey! Tickling is forbidden!” she laughs. “I will kick you and it will be your fault.”

“You won’t kick me,” he shakes his head but stops tickling her then notices another tattoo on the outside of her ankle. He looks to his right and sees a small red train on the inside of that ankle. “You have a lot of tattoos. What does this one mean?”

His finger traces the red outline of the train and the small speckle of stars shooting from the chimney.

“I loved Thomas the train engine.”

Calum looks up at her not believing her for a second. From this angle he forgets what his smart-ass remark was going to be because her naked midriff distracted him greatly. The ends of her hair tickled over her nipples, her bangs framing her face perfectly.

She gives him a radiant smile that he can’t deny by returning one of his own.

“All right, that’s it for this spot. Ready to head out Indie?” Sarah asks, pulling them from their small moment of connection.

“Yeah, I’m starved,” Indie buttons up her top.

“Want to come, Cal? We’re getting pizza at Marco’s,” Andy says.

“Uh, let me check my phone quickly, hang on,” he pulls out his phone then slips his shirt back on over his head. One notification from Bianca and she just gave his text to her a thumbs up. “Yeah, pizza sounds great.”

He walks next to Indie back to their cars.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

“How would you guys feel about doing a night shoot back at our place? The city lights in the skyline would be perfect,” Sarah says when she finishes off the last piece of pizza.

“I’m down for that. Can it be partially nude?” Indie asks, sucking up the last of her root beer from the vintage red cup.

“Absolutely,” Sarah nods.

“What do you say, Calum?” Indie looks up to Calum and he feels like she’s challenging him.

“I’m in,” he nods. He’s always up for a challenge.

The night shoot is out on Sarah and Andy’s balcony. Calum watches Sarah and Indie first from the doorway. Indie has her top open again leaning against the railing. She stretches her arms up above her head, extending her torso and Calum can get a better glimpse of that tattoo below her breasts.

It looks like celestial with moons and stars. As the photos progress, she slips it all the way off and leans over the railing. She does a profile view then reaches her hand out to Sarah’s camera for a close up of her fingers. The two women are giggling and Calum won’t deny how natural and confident Indie is in front of the camera even though she admitted to being nervous to him earlier.

Was she telling him the truth or was she just doing that to keep up this anonymous persona?

“Sarah has a way of making people feel comfortable in front of the camera. It’s her loving nature,” Andy explains as if reading Calum’s mind. “This is all Indie’s idea by the way, the shoot. She wants to do a body positivity session.”

“That’s…” Calum watches with wide eyes as Indie drops her shorts and panties then he sees her cute little bare ass. “Nice.” He clears his throat since she’s completely bare. Andy chuckles and nudges him in the ribs.

Calum is suddenly in the need of a cigarette; his fingers begin to twitch.

He watches her as she and Sarah continue to interact. Indie keeps her backside facing Sarah and Calum spots yet another tattoo on the back of her shoulder. Why’d she choose him to be a part of it? Or was it Andy and Sarah who chose him?

Calum opens his mouth to ask when Sarah calls him over.

“Get your ass out here, Hood, it’s your turn. Sit in the chair,” Sarah commands, pulling up said chair right in front of Indie.

Calum keeps his gaze on Indie’s face when he sits in the chair in front of her, his head seems a bit clearer now without her naked body in front of him.

“Shirt off?” he jokes, trying to ease his own tension.

“Please,” Sarah grins and he peels it off again. Of course, she’d say yes. “Baby, can you get the lights for me?”

The outside lights shut off by Andy and replaced by color changing string lights hanging in the rafters. Calum stares up above as they transition from green to yellow to orange and finally to some sort of purple/blue hybrid. Indie’s face comes into view over his shoulder, her fingers dance on his shoulders, her eyes are shining, and her hair is more purple with the added hue.

“Magical,” Sarah comments.

Indie smiles at him and he couldn’t agree more with Sarah’s statement and a few notes of a soft melody sprout in his head.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Calum stayed up all night going through Indie’s Instagram. He thought it would show her real name and he’ll deny to his dying breath that he did NOT spend an hour trying to find her profile. Turns out, her social media persona is displayed as Indie too and he wonders why.

Her posts are all about body positivity which include photos of her body that look professionally done in his opinion. Each pose is perfectly posed so you can’t really see everything but know that she’s fully naked. He tries to make out the tattoos he couldn’t see from the night before, but it’s hard with how her body twists and the way they’re edited.

He reads through some of the comments, agreeing with the ones telling how hot and gorgeous she is. He wanted to tell off the creeps and defend her because her message was about loving your body.

Her photos and posts are real and authentic. She talks about her own insecurities, how learning to love her body seems to be an ongoing lesson. He admires her rawness and understands seeing something different when you look in the mirror but when he sees her...he wonders how she can see flaws.

His phone rings right after he hits ‘follow’ and the noise scares him. His heart plummeted when he saw it was Bianca.

“Hey, babe,” he greets and she immediately rattles off about her day.

Calum puts her on speaker so he can continue to scroll through the photos of him and Indie she posted from their shoot. There are comments from some fans inquiring if he and Bianca broke up.

Bianca didn’t really say anything about his photoshoot, but she doesn’t really say much about what he does anyway.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

The guys are taking a little creative break after bouncing back chords, verses, and beats that they’ve been working on since six in the morning. Ashton was complaining about needing his fifth cup of iced coffee and Michael was starving so the two of them left to pick up lunch and coffee.

Luke and Calum remained behind like always. Luke never stopped working and Calum always kept him company, enjoying the sounds of his soft guitar playing. Ashton’s lava lamp changes to purple and Calum is reminded of Indie so he pulls out his phone and goes to her Instagram.

She’s made a few new posts within the last several days. The first one is of her standing in front of her bathroom mirror with a towel wrapped around her. Her eyes are wide and bright, her hair is in wet strands and the steam frames her reflection. The next one is darker with the towel dropped; two small black hearts are placed on her breasts.

She captioned it: “conversations with myself about loving me are the hardest conversations I have. Sometimes they’re serious and other times goofy, but that’s with the aid of rum. Being gentle with yourself seems so easy until you come face to face.”

The second most recent post is of her and another guy at some sort of festival. They both have on circular sunglasses and the photos are a little blurry. One is a close up of the guy but he’s out of focus and eating a corn dog. The next one is of the two of them standing in front of a funhouse mirror; she has her fingers up in a peace sign. There’s one of them eating cotton candy and the last is of them on the Ferris wheel.

She just captions it as ‘memories.’

The last one she posted was from several hours ago and it was another photo shoot. She was posed with the same guy from the festival only this time she was topless and his arms were around her in front of a mirror. Another one has her lying on a bed with her head hanging off the edge and she’s upside down. The guy is resting his head on her stomach, both of them are looking at the camera and he’s shirtless too. The last one is of her twisted on the bed under the sheets, her ass peeking out and she’s spread across the guy. His hand is very low on her back.

Calum feels a pang in his chest. The pictures are great and all but why is he feeling this sharp pain and warmth in his cheeks?

“Woah, are you on OnlyFans right now?” Luke snorts and Calum jumps from the sound of his voice.

“What?”

“Pretty raunchy, don’t ya think?” Luke grins and then something clicks within Calum.

Could Indie have an OnlyFans account? Is that what she meant by “social media stuff”? He knows it’s one of the most popular adult content websites right now and that pay is really good if you post a lot. Is Indie her...sex name? Is that what that’s called?

“D’you think she has an OnlyFans?”

“I dunno. Who is she?” Luke stops his guitar playing to look at Calum.

“I...I uh did a shoot with her, Andy, and Sarah a few weeks ago.”

“Really? What did you do?”

Calum brings up the session he and Indie did together, handing his phone over to Luke. He suddenly feels very self-conscious and almost wants to snatch his phone back so Luke doesn’t see Indie bare chested. But she posted it on her public Instagram so anyone can see it.

“Wow, you really did a nude shoot?”

“We had our pants on,” Calum scoffs, trying to take his phone back but Luke stretches his arm out of his grasp.

“She doesn’t in these next ones.”

“Give me my phone!” Calum scrambles over Luke’s broad frame to get his phone back. He settles back on the couch in a huff. “Don’t look at those.”

“You showed it to me! Who is she anyway?”

“I don’t really know. She goes by the name Indie but I don’t think that’s her real name.”

“What do you mean?”

“When we arrived at the meadow for the shoot, Andy said we were meeting someone else there and when I asked who it was; Sarah said she wanted to be anonymous. She posts a lot about body positivity and I asked what she does for a living and all she said was social media stuff.”

“OnlyFans is social media. What did Bianca have to say about these photos?”

“Not much,” Calum shrugs and he gets a Twitter notification from her. Does she have a sixth sense to post or call when he’s talking about her?

He opens up the notification and she’s talking about him but very vaguely by only calling him ‘boyfriend’ with a photo attached of him looking down at his phone while they were out to dinner the other night. She brags about him online but hardly does anything with him when they are together. He’s starting to forget why he’s dating her in the first place.

“She had nothing to say about you posing topless with another woman?” Luke’s guitar playing stops and his eyebrows are raised.

“Nope,” Calum sighs and likes Bianca’s post anyway. Their relationship seems to only be about ‘liking’ each other’s posts lately.

“That’s...odd. So, why’re you looking at this girl Indie’s insta anyway?”

“I like what she posts. It’s real and true and a lot of people relate to it. It’s nice,” Calum shrugs. “And she was cool to hang out with at the photo session.”

“Ah, I see. You’re jealous you aren’t in those photos with her.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

“Yeah you are, and you didn’t want me to see her naked bum.”

“How would Sierra feel about that?”

“She’d look with me,” Luke shrugs, “you know that. See if she tagged the guy and find out who he is. If he has an OnlyFans then there’s a possibility she might have one, too.”

“How does that make sense?” Calum asks but clicks on the tagged name anyway because he’s not thinking properly and his curiosity is getting the best of him.

“They promote new content with whoever they did it with.”

“How the hell do you know that?”

“Saw it on TikTok, and there was that rumor that Ash has an OnlyFans so I Googled about it.”

“That’s a weird thing to Google.”

“Please, you’ve Googled worse. So, who is the bloke?” Luke peers over his best friend’s hand to look at his phone screen.

Calum looks back down at his phone on the new profile. He has quite a massive following and a small bio.

“His name is Ian, he’s a model and an extra in TV shows. There’s a link under his name but he posted photos with her, too.”

Calum taps on the post to see it’s of them in that damn bed again. Indie is straddling him but she has on some sort of lace outfit and Ian’s hands are on her waist. They’re both laughing and facing the camera.

“He wrote ‘always a blast doing sessions with you.’ Does that mean photo sessions or OnlyFans stuff?”

“How am I supposed to know? Why does it concern you anyway?”

That stops Calum short. Why does it concern him? His mind is spiraling with his conflicting emotions and the desire to search for more information about this Ian guy. He tosses his phone on the opposite end of the couch.

“It doesn’t concern me. I was curious and now I know you and Sierra subscribe to OnlyFans.”

“What? I didn’t say that at all!” Luke squeaks then narrows his eyes. “Don’t change the subject. Why does it matter if she has one or not?”

“I want to understand her, she didn’t tell me much about her and I’m not sure why.”

“She probably wants to keep her life private. Does she have a big following for what she posts?”

“Yeah.”

“Then maybe she doesn’t want people knowing her business. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“Of course, I can, I--she intrigues me, that’s all. I want to know more about her.”

“Why do you want to know more about her?”

“I don’t know! She...her purple hair and nose ring and tattoos...and her eyes are so damn blue. I don’t understand it.”

Luke is silent for several moments staring at Calum, his blue eyes imploring his friend to tell more. Luke‘s looking at Calum as if he knows something.

Calum is lost in his confusion. Luke moves from the couch and picks up Calum’s notebook and his favorite type of pen. He holds them out to Calum.

“Write about it. Figure it out.”

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Calum tried to write about it and figure it out and he was a little ashamed of himself for searching for Indie on OnlyFans a few days later after talking with Luke. It made him feel pervy, and even though he didn’t find her, it wouldn’t have changed his outlook on her at all if she did have an account. It only makes him want to learn more about her and not the small number of half-truths he received.

It’s been a month since he saw her and he’s at a party with Roy and Bianca. Bianca was off with her friends so Calum and Roy were left to their own devices which were perfectly fine for Calum. He’s always up for a good time but only when it’s with his close friends who are more like family, not a hundred people who sneak photos of him when they walk by.

He’s scanning the crowd--people watching is his favorite thing to do--when he spots someone with purple hair walk by.

“Indie! Hey!” Roy literally took the words right from Calum’s mouth.

Roy knows Indie?

Indie turns at the sound of her name waiting for her friend to pass and she smiles upon seeing Roy then shows her teeth in a radiant smile when she sees Calum right next to him. She’s got on some overall shorts with one of the straps unbuttoned and a tight black shirt that stops at her midriff. There’s some glitter on her face and Calum is mystified once more.

“Hey Cal, fancy seeing you here. Hey Roy,” she smiles at him and Roy pulls her into a hug. Calum feels a twinge of jealousy that he didn’t receive a hug.

“You two know each other?” Calum asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, Indie comes to my meditation sessions once in a while. It’s been too long since the last one, missy.”

“I’ve been working!” she giggles shoving his shoulder playfully. “I’m in need of a good meditation zone, though. Oh, this is my friend, Travis.”

“Nice to meet you guys,” Travis shakes Calum and Roy’s hands.

Calum eyes him up but before he can say anything else, Travis mentioned something about finding their group of friends.

“I’ll send you details on the next mediation,” Roy tells her before she heads out.

“I look forward to it. Have a nice time,” she smiles at them both and lets Travis guide her through the crowd.

Calum is a bit upset he didn’t really get to talk to her as he watches her disappear into the sea of people. He continues listening to Roy and his latest idea for a new album and what it will be based around. He hums and comments in the spaces he’s supposed to but his mind is off on someone else.

And then he wonders where the hell Bianca got off to.

“What’s wrong with you, man? Your mind is out of this world right now,” Roy comments.

“Nothing, nothing,” Calum shakes his head gruffly and then Bianca appears handing Calum a drink.

“You look parched,” she kisses his cheek and he feels the sticky residue of her lip gloss on his skin.

Calum continues to search for Indie as the night goes on, wanting to discuss how her body positivity project is going. He smiles and poses in the photos with Bianca; he knows both of their smiles are fake. Whenever she touches him, he doesn’t get that same feeling he did when Indie touched him in the meadow.

It’s a little after midnight as he exits the bathroom and bumps into someone.

“Oops, sorry, my faul--Indie! Hey!” he grins down at her.

“Oh! Hi again. Having a good time?” she asks brightly.

“It’s all right, how about you?”

“Not really in the mood to party tonight,” she shrugs, “but my friend Travis from earlier likes a guy here so I’m his wing woman.”

“What a good friend you are,” he smiles. “Have they met up?”

“I got a text from him with the tongue emoji, the fire emoji, and the drooling emoji,” she counts off on her fingers. “I’ve walked around this place twice so I’m assuming he’s all good,” she chuckles.

“So, you’re here all alone?”

“Yeah. I was just about to order an Uber--”

“I can take you home if you’d like. You shouldn’t take an Uber alone.”

“You don’t have to do that. I don’t mind--”

“Hey baby, some of the girls want to go to the club. I’ll see you later,” Bianca appears and gives Calum a very fleeting kiss on the cheek.

“Okay, before you go, this is Indie; remember how I did that photoshoot a month ago?”

Bianca glances at Indie who gives her a bright smile.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet--”

“Oh, yeah! Where you were both half naked! Very hot. I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says offhandedly to Calum then runs off to her friends.

“Nice to meet you, too!” Indie finishes in a half-shout and Calum laughs. “She’s a woman on a mission, huh?”

“Yeah, always has to be where the party's at. How about that drive home?”

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Once in his car, Indie connects her phone to his Bluetooth and puts on her playlist along with the address of her apartment. Calum watches her scroll through her phone until she selects the first song; its vibe is very chill, fitting the mood of the blue color of his car’s interior lighting. He keeps glancing over to her; the blue really brings out the purple in her hair. She then pulls her hair back and up behind her head in a makeshift ponytail, fanning herself with the other hand.

“Hot?” he asks while pressing the button for the AC. she lets out a yelp of surprise when the cool air blows on her neck from the headrest of her seat.

“I need my seats to have this feature,” she sighs then lets her hair drop over her shoulder. “Thank you for taking me home. Will you meet up with...oh my God, what’s your girlfriend’s name?” she presses her hands to her face, eyes widening in horror. “She left before you could introduce her.”

“Her name’s Bianca, and no, I’ll probably go home. Club life isn’t really my style.”

“Are you hungry?” she asks.

“For what?” He peers at her curiously.

“Have you ever had insomnia cupcakes?”

When they arrive at the small cupcake shop they read over the flavors listed on the bulbous glass display case. The cupcakes are the size of muffins and each time Indie nudges closer to him, he can smell her perfume. It’s citrus with a hint of something else he can’t place but she smells wonderful.

Indie ends up getting a strawberry cupcake with white frosting and pink sprinkles and Calum gets a confetti one which she teases him about.

“What’s wrong with confetti?!” he laughs following her outside and sits at one of the round metal tables.

“It’s like the second most vanilla flavor you could get. Live on the edge!” she swipes off a bit of frosting and sucks it off with a low satisfied moan.

Her eyes close relishing then taste and Calum gets momentarily distracted by her reaction to the cupcake.

“Well, isn’t that vanilla frosting? Not too on the edge yourself, are ya?”

“It’s not vanilla. Here,” she holds her cupcake in front of him, her eyes testing him. “Try a taste.”

He swipes her frosting off, eyes still on hers and he pops his finger in his mouth. His tongue is full of a very zesty lemon flavor, it’s sugary and sweet but light enough where it’s not too overbearing.

“Shit, that’s good.”

“Told you! Now you enjoy your plain confetti over there,” she wiggles in her chair taking her cupcake back. She swipes up more frosting.

“You eat the frosting first?” he asks, unfolding the paper from his cupcake.

“Mhm, the cake is the best part.”

He watches her in wonder as she continues to eat before taking a very large bite of his own treat. Frosting gets on his nose and she loses it when he wipes it off.

“Did I get it all?” he asks, sucking off the frosting from his thumb.

“You missed a spot...right here!”

Somehow she snuck some frosting on her pinky finger and rubbed it onto his cheek and nose. Calum was dumbfounded then when he saw her practically rolling in her chair from laughing, he joined her and wiped it off on her own.

“Thanks for that,” he laughs, licking off the lemon frosting.

“I’m sorry, I had to,” she shrugs and licks off the rest of her frosting from her cupcake.

“I’m going to get you back for that, Indie. Mark my words.”

“I’m trembling in my overalls,” she mocks with a smile.

“You should be,” he teases and takes another large bite of his cupcake.

When their cupcakes are finished they’re back in his car and her music fills the air with sound. He makes note of the band on his screen, Linus Young, so he can look them up later. He turns it down on the song titled ‘Crystal Ball.’

“How’s your latest project coming along?” he asks then moves into the middle lane.

“Pretty good, I guess. I want to do a couple more shots before I do a post. Sarah said she’d help me with it, we just have to find the time.”

“Do you need a partner?” he grins.

“Not for these shots,” she giggles, “but you’re more than welcome to come if you’d like. I’m always open to other artists' creative eyes.”

“Yeah, I’d love to. Do you have an idea on what your next project will be?”

“Um, I don’t know. It’s always centered on self-love and body positivity. I might try something with body paint or shadows. There’s a--”

“Do you have an OnlyFans?” he blurts out then immediately wants the earth to swallow him up whole.

Where the hell did that come from? He wanted to try and ease into it casually but how do you casually bring up a website like that? And now he just blurted it out like an imbecile. He keeps his eyes on the road anticipating a well-deserved slap across his cheek or for Indie to demand he take the next exit and drop her off.

Instead, she laughs. It’s a full-on cackle with a trail of giggles gasping for breath. Indie doesn’t stop until he looks over at her in alarm and with an apologetic grimace.

“Oh, you’re serious?” she squeaks wiping at the corners of her eyes. She takes a deep breath, still chuckling. “Why do you think that?”

“I was showing my friend Luke the shoot we did and when I went to your Instagram he saw your other photos and asked if I was on OnlyFans and he said creators usually post photos like that with a partner they collaborated with or something and you said your job is social media stuff and that’s social media and I’m--I’m an asshole for blurting it out like that. I’m sorry. It’s none of my business but even if you are, that’s great, y’know? No shame or judgment from me whatsoever. And I feel stupid for even trying to search you--”

“You tried searching for me?” she asks but Calum’s on a ranting rampage. “Wow. I’m fl--”

“This makes me sound like a grade A creep. You--”

“Calum!” she laughs resting her hand on his forearm. The hair on his neck stands up at her touch just like in the meadow. “As entertaining as it is to see you stumble over your words and talk this much, stop. I’m flattered you would even think that in the first place, but no, I don’t have an account.”

He risks a glance at her; she gives him a warm smile.

“Do you have an account?” She asks in a hushed whisper.

“What?!” he swerves a little in his lane but thankfully he needs to change over for the exit. His GPS says Indie’s place is only a few more minutes away. “No, no I don’t have one.”

She giggles again but doesn’t say another word.

They’re silent for the remainder of the drive, the music playing softly in the background. He wishes he never said anything and that Luke didn’t bring it up in the first place. Calum makes the few turns indicated on his screen and then parks in front of a duplex. Indie unbuckles her seatbelt, angling herself towards him.

“Would you subscribe if I did?”

He jerks his head in her direction, did he hear her right? He opens his mouth to answer then narrows his eyes, she does the same and they have a narrow-eyed contest until they’re laughing.

“Would you subscribe if I did?” he counters.

“I asked you first.”

He unbuckles himself as well so he can stretch in his seat and run his fingers through his hair. “I’m not going to answer that. Can we pretend I never asked that and this conversation never happened?” He drops his hands to the steering wheel; he needs to have a firm handle on something because clearly his tongue is acting wild.

“What did you ask?”

“What?”

“What conversation are you talking about?”

Calum stares at her, then looks outside as if there’s a hidden camera and he’s being punk’d right now. Is Ashton Kutcher hiding in that trailer?

“We were talking about OnlyFans.”

“Calum! I was playing along! You didn’t ask me anything and we didn’t have a conversation about that unasked question,” she gives him a perky smile.

“You are something else, you know that?” he rubs at his face out of embarrassment and feeling like such an idiot.

“That’s what I’m told,” she sighs.

He feels there’s a story or two there but he’s already invaded her privacy enough tonight. And it’s only the second time actually meeting her.

“Can I ask you something?” She asks.

“Yes. Please do.”

“Why do you want to know what I do?”

Calum rests his head on his seat, turning his head towards her with his hands still on the wheel. She’s situated herself in her seat so that one leg is pulled to her chest and resting against the center console. Her round cheek is cupped in her hand, her eyes wide and captivating.

“I want to know more about you, that’s all.”

“Why do you want to know about me, Cal?”

That question again. The answer is staring him right in the face, it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he just can’t bring himself to say it out loud. So, he alters his answer because he’s already rambled enough for one night.

“You have this ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude and a free spirit. You’re sure of yourself and not a lot of people are like that.”

“I definitely do give a fuck about a lot of things. Maybe too much,” she shrugs, removing her hand and leans forward. “You’re sure that’s all?”

She doesn’t ask it in fishing for compliments type of way, it’s more like she knows he’s hiding something, like she knows he sugar-coated his answer. Indie’s eyes have him captured, he’s like a fly caught in a black widow’s web that’s made up of his own lies.

“Ye-es…” he responds slowly.

“You promise?”

Her eyes are steady on his, he squeezes the wheel, arms tightening, knuckles whitening, and the smallest flick of her eyebrow causes him to let out a large exhale. Calum drops his hands in defeat.

“I don’t know how to answer that,” he shakes his head.

She’s looking at him like Luke was looking at him back in the studio.

“You’re…” he licks his lips and swallows down his nerves. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Indie. I’ve never been this lost in my head on finding the proper words to say what I want to say. But I can tell you that my intentions are only to get to know you, which I’m certain of.”

“Get to know me as a friend?”

“Friend, photoshoot partner, whatever it is,” he shrugs. “All I know is I can’t stop thinking about you.”

She gives him a small smile with an even smaller nod then takes a deep breath. Her hands rub at her temples as she lets out a frustrated groan covering her eyes with her hands.

“Are you okay?”

“You know that’s the truest thing you’ve said this whole time, Cal? I’d be glad to be your friend but I can’t lie about how I’ve been thinking about you, too.”

“So... what do we do about that?”

Indie removes her hands, her eyes the size of planets holding the same secrecy of the galaxy. He wants to explore every part, every hidden crevice.

“I want to know you, too. But we have to promise--” she holds out her pinky “--that we are friends first and foremost. I don’t trust people easily; I only tell what I think they should know. But my intuition is telling me to trust you and it’s never wrong. Can you do that?”

Calum mulls over her words. He reaches over the console so their faces are closer. He can see the glitter on her cheeks and how they resemble constellations. He cups her cheek; his fingers locking in her hair and captures her lips in a fevered kiss without a thought of the repercussions that will follow.

The kiss is full of sparks, desire, and an innate need. Indie kisses him back with equal hurriedness and soon they’re scrambling to the backseat. Lips still connected, her fingers claw at his shirt and--

“Cal?”

Calum blinks. He’s pulled back to the present, his fantasy betraying him in the worst possible way from the reality of Indie still holding her pinky out for him.

The kiss was all in his head. Going against his selfish desires, he hooks his pinky with hers and Indie’s face turns serious.

“We promise to always stay friends, no matter what. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“We promise that no matter what comes from the darkness, what secrets will surface, or whatever urges may arise, we are friends first and won’t let those things change that. Promise?”

“I promise,” he nods, tilting his head to the side in amusement as she continues.

“And above all else...we won’t leave or abandon one another. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good. I promise, too,” she stares at their joined pinkies.

“You okay?” he asks, feeling the shift within her.

“Yeah...it’s a little...I’m giving you all my trust. It’s a little scary.”

He squeezes her pinky then covers their joined hands with the palm of his other hand. He cocks his head lower until she looks at him with shining, vulnerable eyes.

“I promise I won’t break it, Indie.”

He wonders if she catches the double entendre to his promise because while he said it about her trust, he could tell she’s wearing her heart on her sleeve. He doesn’t want to break that either.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Calum has been walking on air ever since that night with Indie a few weeks ago promising to be friends. Is he attracted to her? Absolutely. That at least is something he can admit even if it is in his own head. Will he act on those thoughts? No, because he has respect for Indie and his relationship with Bianca.

Things between him and Bianca have gotten a little better; they go out more and she’s asked him about his music. When he’s mentioned he has this tune stuck in his head that he can’t figure out she doesn’t say too much about it and quickly transitions to her next appearance promoting a new line of liquor.

Calum’s confident he can push his attraction for Indie to the side and make their friendship a priority. He’s never had a female best friend before but it’s an easy transition with her.

After that night they exchanged numbers and were quick to start sending funny memes and TikTok videos. Calum downloaded the app solely because of her and when he discovered she had a few videos of her own, he watched the four videos relentlessly.

“You’re a very talented lip syncer, you should go pro,” he’d told her one day over FaceTime while he was making breakfast.

“There’s no such thing as a pro lip syncer,” she snorted back. She was applying makeup in her bathroom sitting cross legged on the counter with her feet in the sink.

“Yeah there’s that show on MTV or some shit where you dress up and put on a whole performance.”

“I would literally die if I had to perform in front of people. No thank you.”

Calum laughed then watched her apply her eyeliner with careful strokes and perfect precision. Whenever she did her makeup she had her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and her bangs clipped up so she wouldn’t get makeup on them. Seeing her whole face for the first time filled him with even more intrigue and he thought she was even more beautiful.

“Why do you do that on the sink?” he asked, flipping his egg on his toast.

“So I can get closer to the mirror. It’s a girl thing. Doesn’t Bianca do it?”

“Dunno, I’ve never seen her put her makeup on before.”

He would send her photos and videos of Duke and each time she’d comment on how adorable he is and that she would steal him one day.

“You’ll have to get through me first,” he grinned.

“I can take you. It’s one of my superpowers.”

“What superpower is that exactly?”

“If I tell you then my cover’s blown, duh.”

“Why don’t you show me then?” he teased with a slight hint of flirtation.

“Cal…” she warned but couldn’t help her giggle.

“All right, all right,” he smiled, scratching at his head. “Sorry.”

There would be some innocent slip-ups like that throughout their conversations. Calum just felt so at ease with Indie and when she asked him to help her with a photoshoot of hers he was more than excited to accept.

When he arrived at her place, there was music playing from down the hall and he heard voices followed by Indie’s laugh. He follows the sound right into her bathroom where she is with another girl while the bathtub was running water, bubbles rising.

“Did you finally get your own dog?” he asks and the two girls turn at his voice.

“No, it’s for the photos,” Indie smiles. “Cal, this is Inka, she’s going to be in the photos with me and helping you take them.”

“Nice to finally meet you, Calum,” Inka smiles.

Inka’s a little taller than Indie with flowing ink black hair, wide set eyes and brown skin. She has a septum piercing and is also very good looking.

“Nice to meet you,” he nods, and then turns fearfully to Indie. “I’m taking the photos? Shouldn’t you ask Sarah, she’s a professional.”

“I don’t want them to look professionally done. Inka’s big on water photography so she’ll help you. And we need someone to take photos of us together.”

“All right, so…” he glances at the tub that Inka is now bent over testing the water. “What’s with the bubble bath?”

“That’s where we’ll be,” Indie grins, removing her shorts.

Calum is so caught off guard by being the photographer that his eyes watch her step out of them, but finds she has on swimsuit bottoms. At least he won’t be distracted this time like in the meadow or at Andy and Sarah’s when she was completely naked.

“Are you alright with us being topless, Cal?” Inka asks removing her own shorts. He spots some ink on her skin as well, he wonders if they got tattoos together at one point. The styles are pretty similar.

“I’m fine if you guys are,” he shrugs then eyes up the Polaroid sitting on the counter. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable with me here; I respect the artistry of the naked body.”

“All I needed to hear,” Inka says with a sigh. “The water’s perfect, Indsy. I’ll put on music that helps me get in the zone.”

“Is this the camera I’ll be using?” Calum asks, pointing to the Polaroid as Inka changes the music on her phone to something with a bit of soul to it. The voice echoes very softly within the bathroom.

“Yeah, it’s Inka’s. She’ll show you how to use it while I’m in there. Thanks for helping with this, everyone couldn’t or thought it was weird when I asked them.”

“Glad to be of assistance,” he smiles down at her, noticing she doesn’t have makeup on. “You look nice by the way.”

“Thank you. I’m going to take my top off now,” she touches his arm as if in assurance, her eyes widening slightly. “Will you be okay?”

He knows she’s teasing but he links his pinky with hers that’s on his arm.

“Promise. Now get in there,” he jerks his head towards her bath.

“Sheesh, you’re a demanding assistant.”

She backs away and he examines the camera with curiosity. When Inka and Indie converse behind him, he lifts his eyes to their reflection in the mirror just as Indie is pulling her t-shirt off. Her eyes meet his as she tosses it to the floor and it’s as if the moment slows before she’s stepping into the water.

“Inka! This is too hot!” she squeals, pulling her foot out.

“No, it’s not! Calum, come feel the water.”

He turns and stands next to Indie; he bends to the floor pressing his hand through a mountain of bubbles. It’s pretty warm but he’s come to realize that Indie doesn’t like hot things.

“I think it’s fine but it is too hot for her,” he agrees with Indie.

“Well, you’ll get used to it and if your cheeks get a little red or your chest, then it will make the pictures better.”

Indie sighs; she puts her hand on Calum’s shoulder for extra support and puts her foot in the water again. She lets out a hiss and stands there for a couple seconds. Calum grabs her hand and holds her fingers when she places her other foot in the tub as well. He watches her scrunch her face at the temperature, he can see a red splotch blooming on her chest already and she’s not even fully in yet.

“Darling, it’s really not that bad,” Inka sighs rubbing at Indie’s shoulder. “Is it?”

“I just need to let myself get used to it,” Indie replies and drops a knee, her fingers’ holding onto Calum’s tightly.

“I can get a cold washcloth for you,” he offers but Indie shakes her head and drops her other knee.

“I’ll be okay. Can you get me a bottled water from my fridge?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back,” he nods and he releases her fingers.

When he returns, Indie is fully in the bath, her hair cascading over her back like a dark purple curtain. Her knees are drawn up to her chest and Inka is on the floor with her camera pointed at Indie. Indie’s head is on her knees, her body curving forward, eyes big and her lips pouting slightly.

Calum doesn’t like how she looks sad even if he knows it’s for the aesthetics of it all. Indie looks up at him then stretches a now bubbly arm towards him for the water.

“Wait, stay like that for a minute!” Inka instructs Indie's pose and the camera clicks. “Okay, you can take it.”

Calum sits against the cabinets next to Inka, paying attention to the buttons on the camera before she takes a picture. Indie leans back with her head tilted back and eyes closed, her breasts pointing out. Then she rested her arms on the edge of the tub, her cheek falling perfectly in the crook of her elbows and she eyed up the camera and Inka. When she looked at Calum, he forgot how to swallow.

“Okay, ready for me?” Inka asks, standing up from her place on the floor.

“You’re going to complain about the water though,” Indie rolls her eyes playfully and turns the tap back on. She shifts to the opposite end so she doesn’t feel the hot water.

“Just take photos you think would be good as candid’s,” Inka instructs handing Calum the camera.

He’s nervous now. He doesn’t want to mess up their vision and he runs over what Inka told him in his head as she takes off her tank top and climbs in with Indie.

“This is so tepid!” Inka shrieks and Indie laughs.

“It’s perfect!”

“You’re such a little weirdo,” Inka drops into the water and pushes the running water towards Indie. Indie sticks her tongue out.

While the water continues to run, Calum takes some practice shots and Inka starts to pull her hair up in a very messy bun with loose strands kissing her cheeks and forehead. She looks very good, actually. Inka has a natural beauty to her, much like Indie does. Calum took photos of that process, Inka is confident in herself like Indie is; it’s all in her posture.

“Remember the first time we were in the bath together?” Indie asks, leaning against the wall.

“Yeah, you were drunk and thought your tub was a whirlpool. But you turned the shower on instead and I thought you were drowning,” Inka laughs.

Calum captures their smiles. He remains silent as they place bubbles on each other’s noses or blow them at each other from their hands. He tries to take as many of those as he can because he thinks they’re charming.

He discovers they’ve been friends ever since Indie moved to L.A and have gone through tough things with each other like bad relationships, loss of jobs, and fallouts from a whole group of friends they were involved in. The more they talked, the closer they got in the tub.

“Here, turn around, I want to get some shots like this,” Indie tells Inka.

They’re in a fit of giggles and laughter as Inka maneuvers in the water, some of the bubbles are rolling down the sides of the tub. Once they’re situated, Indie scoots closer until she’s pressed against Inka’s back. Calum’s reminded of feeling her pressed against his back at Andy and Sarah’s.

“Look at Cal,” Indie says and they both turn to Calum.

He snaps the photo.

“How are you doing over there Mr. Camera Man?” Inka asks leaning against Indie.

“Great. How’re you guys?” he asks.

“Hungry. I want some pizza,” Indie sighs. She presses her cheek to Inka’s neck and wraps her arms around her stomach.

“We’ll order some afterwards,” Inka lifts her hand and pats at Indie’s head affectionately. “Does Calum know you need to be fed every few hours?”

“You make me sound like a baby,” Indie laughs. “Does Calum know?” She directs the question to him in third person, looking at him expectantly.

“Yes, I discovered she gets very feisty when she’s hungry,” Calum laughs.

“He’s a good egg,” Indie says and kisses Inka’s neck.

“Wait, do that again,” Calum says and Indie presses her lips to Inka’s neck. He snaps the picture and he grins. “That’s a good one.”

“Stay professional over there, sir,” Inka warns, narrowing her eyes.

“I am! It’s a sweet moment that’s all. You guys are close and have been through a lot. There aren’t too many friendships like that.”

“I always tell her she’s my soulmate,” Inka pats Indie's cheek then spins around again in the water.

“My friend Ash and I say the same thing.”

“You two take baths together, too?” Inka asks and Indie laughs.

“No,” he laughs. “We wouldn’t fit.”

That gets them both laughing and he snaps a picture of it, the pure joy and amusement on their faces. He notices goosebumps are on Indie’s arms.

“You’re getting cold, Indie,” he comments.

“Yeah, we should get out soon. Did you get some good photos?” she asks, sitting up a little straighter, her hands on the edge of the tub.

“Wait, Cal get one more picture,” Inka stops Indie from standing.

He poises the camera to his eye again and watches as Inka leans in and gives Indie a soft kiss on the lips. She holds the kiss so he can take the picture and he keeps snapping when they pull away and smile at each other.

They both rise from the tub with more water sloshing over the sides; all the bubbles are gone now. Calum stands handing them each a towel; he’s trying to wrap his head around that kiss. He kisses his friends too, but to see Indie be kissed by a girl made that pang form in his chest again like when she hugged Roy and not him.

He shouldn’t be jealous; they’re just friends and he pinky promised.

“I’ll order some pizza and upload these so we can look at them,” Inka says, wrapping the towel around her. She folds it over so it’s held to her body like a strapless dress. “Time to put your camera skills to the test.”

The photos ended up looking really well. He could tell the differences between his and Inka’s, hers were angled in different ways to make the focal point look cool. His photos were straighter on but Inka was impressed by some of his close-up shots of their laughter.

The three of them watched a movie as they ate their pizza, laughing at the scenes and more memories that came about for Indie and Inka. Calum really liked Inka and she gave him a hug when she left, promising she’ll contact him if she needs his help for her own photos.

“You have her approval by the way,” Indie says, moving back to the couch pulling her blanket over her legs.

“Approval?” He joins her resting his arm over the back of her couch.

“Of being my guy best friend. This was sort of a test of hers by having you deal with our shenanigans and being half naked in the tub.”

“Elaborate, please?” he chuckles. “Did she think I’d be weird about it?”

“She’s a little protective over me. We’re best friends but…” Indie looks at her hands in her lap; she starts to play with the edge of the blanket.

“But…?” he prompts and she bites her lip. “I feel like this is a pinky promise moment.”

“It is.”

He holds out his pinky waiting for her to link their fingers. She takes in a deep breath and hooks her pinky around his but she doesn’t let it go when she speaks. Her eyes are trained on their pinkies.

“Inka and I dated actually, for a short time. It was right when I moved out here and we got super close super-fast, I felt the most comfortable with her in the friend group I fell into. She’s the first one I voiced my attraction to women about and she said she was the same. We both don’t like labels. And... Yeah, we dated for a couple months but both agreed our friendship was more important than if we broke up badly.”

“So, you’re attracted to men and women or just women?” he asks softly.

“Both,” she says, her eyes still on their pinkies. “Inka’s the only woman I’ve dated and have been with but I’ve had other crushes. They just never went anywhere.”

“Hey, look at me,” he tugs on her pinky lightly until her eyes meet his. “Why do you seem scared?”

“When I tell other guys about it they get all weird and ask for threesomes or they get freaked out like I'm going to cheat on them with her or something. I’m attracted to girls but it’s more than attraction, too.”

“I get it,” he nods, “you don’t have to explain to me. You care for people for who they are. I’m sorry if you felt cautious to tell me. You can tell me anything, Indie.”

“It’s just nerve wracking, that’s all,” she lets out a shaky laugh. “I knew you wouldn’t be creepy with the photos but while we were doing them I figured this would be a good time to tell you.”

“Thank you for telling me, it helps me get to know you better,” he smiles. She gives him one back then pulls her pinky away so she can give him a hug.

He holds her tightly, feeling how fast her heart is beating. They didn't let go until her heart slowed down and matched his.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Every day at the studio, Luke would pester Calum asking when they would finally get to meet Indie. Not long after, Ashton and Michael would chime in as well about wanting to meet her and Calum would do his best to ignore them. But he knows his brothers and they’re persistent to the point where it will make you go mad if you don’t agree.

Today was more of a chill day tossing random lyrics and notes around trying to make it into a song. While the other three were goofing off, Calum was at the piano trying to work out the notes that have been swimming in his head for the last couple months. He has the first and last notes down pat but what is in the middle? He can’t figure it out.

“Hey, Cal,” Luke calls, “you should have a party tonight.”

“What for?”

“So, we can all hang out, drink, eat, meet Indie…”

Calum’s hands fall away from the keys and he twists around on the bench to see Luke smiling with all his teeth. He looks like that emoji with his teeth bared.

“Why do you want to meet her so badly?”

“She’s friends with you, we want to be friends with her as well,” Luke shrugs.

“Roy knows her, why can’t we?” Ashton adds.

“Yeah, is she even real at this point?” Michael chortles.

“Yes, she’s real,” Calum rolls his eyes. “How—”

His phone buzzes on the table.

“It’s Indie!” Luke exclaims trying to snatch up the phone.

Calum darts forward grabbing his phone before they can. Thankfully, it was just a text because he knew if he picked up the phone one of them would have found a way to speak with Indie and say something ridiculous.

“Stop acting like we’re twelve,” Calum shakes his head. “Two of you are married.”

“I’m engaged, actually,” Luke corrects, leaning back on the couch. He crosses his converse covered feet at the ankles. “What’d she want?”

Against his better judgment, Calum opens the message to see three photos and a text. They’re all the same photos just taken in different positions. It’s her naked body, from just below her breasts to the tops of her thighs. She’s poised in a way that you can’t see anything and it ranges from black and white, sepia, and the original photo.

‘Which one should I post?’ was the text sent.

“She sent me photos asking for help on which ones to pick for a post,” Calum says already typing away about how she should do all of them. Then he asks how her day’s going. He looks up at his friends and they’re giving him the same look of expectation. “Ugh, fine! If I invite her over you can’t be weird as shit like you are right now.”

They whoop and holler at that news.

“Finally, we get to meet the infamous Indie,” Luke sighs, resting his head on his hands. Calum throws a pillow right at his face.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

All of Calum’s friends are mingling in the backyard and kitchen area, conversation and laughter is heard over the low sound of the music playing. He’s ordered pizza and wings for everyone to enjoy and they should be delivered in about forty-five minutes. He’s been anxiously waiting for Indie to arrive but is also nervous about how the guys will act around her.

Bianca is out of town so she couldn’t make it and Calum wasn’t too sure what his feelings are about her not being here. She told him to have fun and not get too rowdy, so he appreciates that small sentiment.

Indie was excited to meet everyone else when he called her and when she asked if she could bring a friend, he assumed it was Inka so he of course said yes.

Boy was he ever wrong.

He was popping open another white claw when Andy and Sarah announced her name. He looks up in excitement to see her hugging Sarah but then it falters when he sees it’s not Inka that’s next to her. It’s that guy Ian from her Instagram posts that she posed with. The pang in his chest is back when Ian places his arm over Indie’s bare shoulders and shakes Andy and Sarah’s hand.

Calum takes notice of her outfit; she has on a dark blue top with the sleeves that only go to the tops of her arms and black jean shorts with some black boots. Her dark purple hair is pulled back behind her head in a sort of braid.

“Hey isn’t that—”

“Indie?” Calum finishes Luke’s sentence and takes a long drink of his white claw. “Yeah, let’s go introduce you.”

Ashton and Michael met them by Indie and she gave Calum a big smile.

“Hey! How’re you?” she asks rising on her tiptoes to give him a hug. Ian and Calum’s eyes meet briefly before Indie pulls away.

“I’m good, glad you could come,” Calum forces a smile. “Uh, these are the guys. It’s about time you all met. This is Luke, Ashton, and Michael. Guys, this is Indie.”

“So, you are a real person,” Ashton nods, shaking her hand.

“As opposed to what? A blow-up doll?” Indie teases and Michael chokes on his own drink.

Calum grins because he knows she’ll be able to handle herself around them. He just hopes they don’t say anything about him that would raise questions.

“I like you,” Ashton smiles. “Who’s this you brought along?”

“Oh! Right, sorry. This is Ian,” she introduces.

Calum eyes him up while he shakes his friends’ hands. He’s about the same height as Calum with short brown hair that kind of sticks up in the front. He’s got tan skin, an arm of tattoos, and has a lean muscular build.

“And this is Calum,” Indie introduces him last.

Calum notices she didn’t say ‘my friend’ or ‘my boyfriend’ when introducing Ian, so what is he exactly?

“Good to finally meet you, man,” Ian holds out his hand.

“Likewise,” Calum makes sure his grip is tight, but so is Ian’s. “Help yourselves to drinks from the coolers and kitchen. Pizza and wings should be coming soon.”

The pang in Calum’s chest only grows as the night progresses. He’s not quite sure what to make of Ian except that he and Indie are very comfortable with each other. When Calum is in ear shot they’re always flirting and touching each other.

“Sooo…” Luke drawls sidling next to Calum. “He’s that guy from her Instagram, right?”

“Yup.”

“Are he and Indie dating?”

“No idea,” Calum’s voice is clipped. He takes a drink of his white claw. The pang keeps getting sharper, his fingers are twitching for a cigarette and now he really wants some weed.

“Are you all right?”

Calum watches Ian come up behind Indie with another drink for her and he smacks her ass then proceeds to rub her back. Indie smiles up at him taking the cup.

“Yeah, I’m all right. We’re just friends,” Calum sighs.

When the party dwindled down, it was only Ashton, Michael, Luke, Andy, Sarah,Indie and Ian left sitting around the firepit. The conversation transitions from topic to topic that are mainly centered on Indie and finding out more about her. Just as Calum suspected, she’s very cryptic in her responses and that makes him smile. Calum’s sitting across the way from her and her legs are resting on Ian’s lap. Ian’s hands are rubbing at her calves.

Calum tells himself it doesn’t bother him.

Somehow the conversation turned to sex, which isn’t all that uncommon for their group but Calum was shooting daggers at Ashton because he didn’t want Indie to feel uncomfortable. As always, she surprised him and she was asking her own questions. Everyone answered her question of what their first time was like and they were all great stories of embarrassing moments.

When it came for her to answer, Calum sat up a little straighter in his chair.

“I was nineteen, wasn’t expecting it to happen at all. And you’re always told ‘oh, it’s this magical moment! You’ll be changed forever!’ but it literally lasted two or three minutes and I was like, ‘that’s it?’” she giggles. “I didn’t feel changed at all.”

“Two minutes?” Michael laughs. “Was it his first time too?”

“Hey, in my defense I’ve wanted to do it with her for a long time and when it finally happened…I lost control,” Ian smiles. “That tends to happen with Indie.”

Calum’s ears feel hot and it’s not from the fire. He ignores Luke’s quick glance to him from the bit of information that Ian was the first guy Indie had sex with.

“And we were also in your parent’s living room,” Indie giggles some more.

“All right, so now the next question…most rounds in one night?” Ashton asks lighting up another joint.

Calum wants to strangle him.

“What the hell is with all the sex talk, mate?” he finally asks trying to play it off as nonchalant, but the way Luke and Michael fidget, he knows it didn’t sound that way. No one else seems to notice, if Indie did he doesn’t know because he doesn’t dare look at her now.

“It’s a beautiful thing. It brings people closer by being open about it,” Ashton rests his ankle on his knee.

Calum snorts and shakes his head crossing his arms. He shakes his leg in annoyance.

Everyone says one or two rounds with little stories with each one. Michael made everyone laugh when he said one and a half.

“I was super drunk and it finally caught up with me and…yeah, I fell asleep,” Michael chortles. His eyes are heavy from drinking.

“That poor girl,” Andy says.

“I married her, so you know she’s the one,” Michael smiles.

“Where are Crystal and Sierra? I was looking forward to meeting them, too,” Indie says.

“They’re both at some fashion expo,” Luke explains. “We’ll all get together; they want to meet you too.”

Then fashion is the next topic of conversation until Ashton opens his mouth again. The weed must have set him off in a very inquisitive buzz.

“Indie, you didn’t answer the round's question.”

“I don’t want to be judged,” she holds up her hands in defense.

“This is a judgment free zone, this is a safe space, c’mon,” Ashton smiles lazily.

Indie looks at each person individually, except Calum before she answers.

“Three times,” she sighs, staring into the fire.

There’s a collective ‘woah’ around the group and sounds of approval. She tries to hide her smile but fails and ends up covering her face.

“Damn, that dude’s got stamina,” Michael says.

“It was a fun night,” Ian smirks while taking a drink of his beer. Indie smacks him in the shoulder and that earns even more of a reaction from the group.

They all want to know details and context, but Calum is seething. He really wants to get up and leave because he doesn’t want to hear anymore, but he knows that will cause more questions.

He remains silent for the rest of the night thinking about everything and questioning everything. He wants to know if Indie and Ian are dating and he wants to know why it matters to him so much. It really shouldn’t and that just makes him angrier.

He’s glad his friends are getting along with Indie, but he wishes it weren’t in this type of context.

When everyone had left, Calum was stuffing plates and cups in a large trash bag then he was going to light up a joint in hopes that would help calm his mind and rid his thoughts of seeing Ian and Indie together. He doesn’t even want to think about what they’re doing right now.

☆°•.¸☆¸.•°☆

Taglist: @calumance  @in-superbloom @calpalirwin @karajaynetoday @wiiildflowerrr-blog1 @sunshineeeluke @littledrummeraussie @suchalonelysunflower @hoodhoran @Fobodob @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @sunshineeashton @ashtonsunflower​ @mymindwide​ @itjustkindahappenedreally @seanna313 @fivesecondsofonedirection @mulletcal @pandaxnienke @sebsbrokentoe @heartskippeddabat

[evanescentdawn]

WOW this got much longer than expected, and basically a full-blown fic idea that I desperately want now

(might add more to this since it doesn’t hold all of my thoughts yet and I’m nowhere finished it)

the idea is: ritsu accidentally confesses to teru when he didn’t even want to confess. he doesn’t like teru at all. but of course, teru hears nothing of that. he completely misunderstands, and thinks that ritsu is in love with him.

things escalate.

they do end up falling in love, in the end, though. <3

ft. one-sided terumob and Other Ideas

this manhwa summary/plot hit me out of nowhere, like I just recalled and went, oh my god, this would be the perfect idea for riteru

imagining Ritsu that accidentally confesses to teru. it’s completely by accident, and because a series of events that too complicated to explain. the problem is that now teru is convinced that Ritsu likes him, and nothing that Ritsu says will see as anything but that

“oh, brother-kun. I never knew.” teru says, with a bright smile. “is that how you act with your crushes? where you just shy all the time.... I almost got the wrong time”

this is all going to fast for ritsu to swallow. too fast for to ritsu to deal with. he’s still stuck in the moment where his own mouth betrayed him. “no...” he manages to get out, but it’s all already to late.

every time that ritsu tries to object, teru is going to think that he’s been shy and embarassed which is horribly not true. he hates that teru thinks is, doesn’t want teru to ever think that. the idea of him in — in —

just thinking of it, repulses him.

he tries his everything to correct this misunderstanding. (he fails)

omg, I just remembered! I was thinking about my other wip, where teru does misunderstand about Ritsu asking him out on a date or smth and then, while I was thinking about I was like... what if it was a confession? and then I recalled that manhwa

anyways! oh my god this would definitely get to mob at one point. but first all, thinking about Teru’s thoughts regarding all of this

he’s like of course, little brother-kun likes me. I’m me. but unfortunately for him, teru is already in love with someone else. mob. well. I was thinking that teru doesn’t like ritsu back, but teru being in love with his mob instead also sounds fun

teru looking at him with a pitying look, teru agreeing to week-date and giving Ritsu some of his time to deal with all this. Ritsu being baffled at all. like who the hell...

and just dislikes teru more, because the ego and the audacity he has... just what. the fuck.

Ritsu has never said anything, teru is just running with this and Ritsu is aware of how he likes his brother, so he tries to use that to get out of this whole mess. “but what about—”

teru hasn’t realised that his love for mob was that obvious and goes, oh, and acts all more pitying towards ritsu and is like Ritsu is all heartbroken about his. and going this is all makes sense now. ritsu likes him, and that’s why he tried to intervene with his precious time with mob. it’s all very understandable now.

it’s not understandable.

ritsu does not like him

ritsu is not heartbroken

teru is missing all the points. he just hated teru presence there, and wanted to be the one to spend with his brother then. and he hated how disgustingly shameless teru was around shigeo.

but of course, ritsu doesn’t get time to explain. he doesn’t get time to do anything. he has to go home, wondering, how did fuck this happen, why teru. blames on the elder woman who was there and had to speak then, and interrupt him him at that time, and blames reigen because actually this was all his fault. he wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for him. teru wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t for him. the elder woman wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t him. clearly, the fault of mis-timing and him tripping of his words all falls on reigen.

he goes home, dark-faced and clutching the handle of his school bag, with a more deep distaste of reigen

oblivious to all that was occurring, and because of his simple act of telling mob something, reigen feels a ice-cold shudder at the back of his neck.

(perhaps, he just got cursed)

ritsu goes home, exhausted by everything, and sees mob there. sitting and looking happy, and expectant when he sees mob.

after a moment, ritsu asks his usual question of, how did your day go?

mob excitedly tells him how he managed to do this thing in the body improvement club which would seem like a trival thing to any person. but ritsu knows about his brother and his struggles and how this is a improvement. also yeah, I did say that mob says it excitedly but felt like I need to express how it sounds monotone and like it’s anything but exciteding and you weren’t someone that knew him you wouldn’t see how obviously exciting he is

at least one of them had a good day. “that’s good. that’s an amazing achievement, brother.”

mob beams.

ritsu feels worse at the fact that he can’t put more enthusiasm at that and hates teru even more, and reigen, and this whole situation

he goes to sleep.

he has a undisturbed sleep to the degree that when he wakes the next time, he can ALMOST delude himself that nothing. absolutely nothing happened.

teru appearing that morning disturbs it. he had forgotten about teru uninvited morning drop-ins despite how he doesn’t live in the same school as them and his house isn’t close to them

(oh my god, this just reminded me of haru. and now I’m thinking about a mp100 khr au which AAAAA would be so good.)

teru is the same as every morning. he’s dressed and dazzling with his bright yellow aura, way to early in the morning, and up in shigeo’s presence as his brother tries to go about his morning routine of getting ready for school.

just got struck by the image of: mob, sleepy, and brushing his teeth in the bathroom while teru stands in there with him and talks about stuff and admires himself in the mirror. it would be so perfect

ritsu is annoyed by his whole existence. he busies himself with getting though, and spends him lowkey (highkey this is ritsu after all) in awful anticipation of whatever teru is going to say about the confession

no, no, no, Hold on wait. ritsu WOULDNT busing himself with getting ready. he would be doing anything but that. he wouldn’t be able to relax and get ready in the house, when teru is here and everything unknown. and especially when teru is here and he talks a lot.... and might say something to his brother...

yeah, no, ritsu is taking no chances. he’s up in teru’s presence and trying to take him from his brother, and just making sure that he doesn’t say something.

.........which of course oh my god horribly makes this misunderstanding even worse

(will teru even learn that it’s misunderstanding? is it more better for him to never know. so what if it was based on a lie? ritsu will fall for him anyways.)

before this, I was thinking that teru doesn’t say anything and ritsu is almost able to relax when he gets a call, and then, a date dropped on him. because of course, having the tense/anticipation built up while teru is the same as always and acting like he doesn’t know anything, until the moment that they are saying goodbye and mob is out of the frame —

doesn’t even GIVE time for ritsu to be aware of anything, or be prepared, when he turns to him after saying goodbye to mob, and with a smile, “

did I say a call before? well. not a call anymore. it’s said in person, with a wink, and a smile. “gonna collect you after school”

ritsu is left........ idk actually. how would he act after that?? how does ONE act after that??? after the

wait, oh my god. yes, teru would definitely also drop in the fact that ritsu focusing on him all that time, and how did he never knew.... telling ritsu how his actions helped to grow this misunderstandings

it would be PERFECT

jeez. this is getting really long and totally a full blown fic idea. do I stop here and do little time stamps? or do I continue.

im continuing.

ritsu wishing that teru doesn’t appear. ritsu technically having no school, shit I forgot. what club is in again? whatever that school thing is. yeah, that. having no meeting or anything to do there there, but ritsu trying to find something to do. only to delay the time.

but, undisturbed by ever, standing in all his dazzlingly glory, teru is waiting for him there while he’s in conversation with others

in contract, ritsu looks weary and time and wishing to be nowhere but here. and wishing that he didn’t take those extra duties, because it was tedious and trying and the fact that teru is here and is still waiting after that....

teru directs a bright smile to ritsu when he notices him, that ritsu has to slightly squint at,

oh my god. that just remembered me of that tumblr post that goes on about “zy was like the sun” descriptions and how they would be squinting or smth. and that’s definitely teru and Ritsu. oh my god, I need to write that scrne

anyways, back to the story. I don’t think that they would go on a date this time around. maybe, something had happen. I was thinking along the lines that teru wasn’t here because of ritsu, but because of mob and plans they had but that went to poof that morning because of reigen or smth. after all, ritsu is the one who likes teru and teru isnt.

actually. maybe that doesn’t happen this scene but I WOULD LOVE a moment where ritsu misunderstands and teru immediately corrects about that, like how he wasn’t here for him or that he wasn’t waiting for him or smth. and that his life/thoughts doesn’t resolve him (implying that Ritsu’s does resolve teru) and honestly, he should know, that this whole setup is because ritsu is the one with the feelings and teru is here and being a good person and indulging him out of pityness

ritsu seethes. none of that is right. and he hates teru’s condescending attitude. like the AUDACITY of this man. (he’s also very, very embarrassed about his mistake which I imagine would him make go the mile in never mistaking teru’s actions; which wouldn’t in favour for teru when he does fall for ritsu and his actions become more genuine in the nature that it’s for love but ritsu has that iron wall up)

so like, going back, where was I? yes, them walking home because there’s enough time for date. that works better for this situation. mmh, but I was thinking about whether teru would be waiting that long for him. or maybe, because he said so and so he did wait. or maybe, that teru has some other plan now and doesn’t have time for that date or smth

either way, ritsu is glad. ritsu is happy. ritsu is very relieved that

(oh no, another fic idea. from that meme(TM) where teru falls the downstairs, and reigen asks why ritsu is happy, because he never is in reigen’s presence and shou goes; teru fell the downstairs. and now I’m thinking about how the fuck did teru fall the downstairs. properly because of mob. definitely because of mob. and ritsu love for his brother and resolve that his brother is the best person grow because of this)

anyways back to what I was saying. ritsu is relived that he did that club activity thing.

what he isn’t happy about that teru is here, and still walking him home. doesn’t he have better stuff to...? and then, at time, teru asks him when he fell for him and

things click in place.

teru is here because he wants to get off more on the non-love that Ritsu has for love because he has that much of an ego

“I don’t.” ritsu says. which, of course, teru replies with amusement and saying that he doesn’t have to hide now. he knows. which makes ritsu go, urghhh in frustration and digust.

just looked at the time and I swear I started writing this somewhere in 9pm and now it’s 10pm. whoops.

anyways, teru asking ritsu questions about his love for him and ritsu saying, “no, I don’t love you” and

“no I don’t — what the hell? what [specific-thing-about-teru-that-teru-expects-ritsu-to-notice] no I haven’t. why would I??????”

and teru going, hmm, “guess your love isn’t that strong” and Ritsu bafflement,

and teru definitely asking him about what about he loves about him, and Ritsu going “nothing” and teru laughing, “you got humour” but ritsu is not joking

(now whether the teru knows ritsu actually doesn’t love him or he doesn’t is never addressed. I love it being ambiguous more)

they eventually reach ritsu’s home, and teru has a good satisfied ego-stroke from that conversation while ritsu just looks Tired

skipping over to fun date shenanigans! what types dates would they go on?

of course we gotta have cinema date!!! I have been thinking of ritsu having “likes human drama” in his character profile a lot and while I don’t remember what it said for teru, he does...like gossip right?? I’m actually unsure about that as we’ll BUT ANYWAYS teru loves to give his ideas on stuff

and anyways thinking about how ritsu expected to having the worst time, and it starts off as awful. like about how he doesn’t want to be here, and the movie that teru chooses doesn’t look good, and teru picked up the love seats for them

and anyways thinking about, how ritsu is not optimistic about anything and is not here to enjoy himself but as the movie starts....as the movie continues in.....

he gets INVOLVED. he finds that this is straight up his genre

and teru asking him how the movie was afterwards and talking about it, and immediately refuting whatever he says and offering an alternative that teru refutes and that one part in the convo where they

oh my god STRAWS. DRINKS STRAWS. Ritsu getting a specific drink that he likes and that teru side eying it, and going, huh, I haven’t that before, it good? and Ritsu nodding and teru just going for it and drinking it as well from the other side

...because it’s a couple drink or smth and Ritsu PAUSE

and teru acting like it’s totally a normal thing.

(oh my god, new idea: fake dating!!! them having to act like a couple to get into something because of something and getting all-couple things!!!!)

(this reminds me of my other fake dating idea that I want to write, which oh my god would fit with this one I just got)

(riteru fake dating is just So Good. So Perfect heart starry eyes)

gonna stop here, because stuff. so much ideas though!!! still buzzing!!! god, I love them so much and this is gonna be FANTASTIC

but ending off on, teru doing the arm around shoulder thing for ritsu like all the girls he had dated. oh my god, yes.

also...thinking about....mob and him learning through teru but ritsu doesn’t know yet and mob just Dropping on ritsu on time and Ritsu having a flashback through all the times that he had gotten back from date with teru and filling the blanks of

wait. would teru tell mob? would teru want mob to know this.

[snarktheater]

Hey, d'you have any French book recs? I'm trying to work on my French, and rn I have downloaded one of my favourite book series' French translations, but I figured maybe books already written in French might work better? Also have you read the Ranger's Apprentice series? 1/2

RA's def flawed - the books' narration does like to point bright arrows at the protagonists' intelligence, and the last few books def have the tone of 'old white man trying to write feminism', although at least he's trying? - and it's aimed more to the younger side of YA, but it is still a very fun series, and I can ignore the flaws fairly easily, at least partly due to nostalgia? This rather long lol but I'm wordy.

I'll start with the second question: no, although every time the series is brought up I have to check the French title and go "oh, right, I've seen these books in stores". But I've never purchased or read them. It sounds like something I probably would have enjoyed as a teen but I just missed the mark, and these days I'm trying to drown myself in queer books, so that probably isn't happening.

As for your first question, geez, I haven’t read a French book in years, so this is gonna skew middle grade/YA, though that may not be so bad if the point is to learn the language. I will also say that as a result, these may read a little outdated.

I'll put it under a cut, even if Tumblr has become really bad with correctly displaying read mores. Sorry, mobile crowd.

It's also likely that old readers of the blog will have seen me talk about most of these. I don't feel like going through old posts.

One last thing: while I was curating this list I took the time to make a Goodreads shelf to keep track of those.

The Ewilan books by Pierre Bottero

(It's a testament to how long ago I read these books that these are not the covers of the edition I own, and I can't even find those on Google. I'm settling for a more recent cover anyway since it'll make it easier to find them, presumably)

There are at least three trilogies (that I know of) set in the same world.

The first trilogy is essentially an isekai (so, French girl lands in parallel fantasy world by accident) with elements of chosen one trope, though I find the execution makes it worth the while anyway.

The second trilogy is a direct sequel, so same protagonist but new threat, and the world gets expanded.

The third one is centered around a supporting characters from the previous books, and the first couple of books in it are more her backstory than a continuation, though the third one concludes both that trilogy and advances the story of the other books as well.

Notably these books have a really fun magic system where the characters "draw" things into existence. It's just stuck with me for some reason.

A bunch of stuff by Erik L'Homme

I have read a lot of this man's books, starting with Le Livre des Etoiles.

They also skew towards the young end of YA, arguably middle grade, I never bothered to figure out where to draw the line. They're coincidentally also using the premise of a parallel world to our own (and yes, connected to France again, the French are just as susceptible of writing about their homeland), but interestingly are set from the point of view of characters native to the parallel world.

It also has a very unique magic system, this one based on a mix of a runic alphabet and sort-of poetry. I'll also say specifically for these books that the characters stuck with me way more than others on this list, which is worth mentioning.

This trilogy is my favorite by Erik L'Homme, but I'll also mention Les Maîtres des brisants, which is a fantasy space opera with a pirate steampunk(?) vibe. I think it's steampunk. I could be mistaken. But it's in that vein. It's also middle grade, in my opinion not as good, but it could just be that it came out when I was older.

Another one is Phaenomen, which was a deliberate attempt at skewing older (though still YA). This one is set in our (then-)modern world and centers a group of teens who happen to have supernatural powers. I guess the best way to describe it is a superhero thriller? If you take "superhero" in the sense of "people with individualized powers", since they don't really do a lot of heroing.

...I really need to brush up on genre terminology, don't I.

The Ji series by Pierre Grimbert

This one is actually adult fantasy, though it definitely falls under "probably outdated". It is very straight, for starters, and I'd have to give it another read to give a more critical reading of how it handles race (it attempts to do it, and is well meaning, but I'm not sure it survives the test of time & scrutiny, basically).

If I haven't lost you already, the premise is this: a few generations ago, a weird man named Nol gathered emissaries from each nation of the world and took them to a trip to the titular Ji island. Nobody knows what went down here, but now in the present day, someone is trying to kill off all descendants from those emissaries, who are as a result forced to team up and figure out what's going on.

I'm not going to spoil past that, though I will say it has (surprise) a really unique magic system! I guess you can start to piece together what my younger self was interested in. Which, admittedly, I still am.

Once again, this one also has a strong cast of characters, helped by rich world building and the premise forcing the characters to come from many different cultures (though, again, I can't vouch for the handling of race because it's been too long).

The first series is complete by itself, though it has two sequel series as well, each focusing on the next generation in these families. Because yes, of course they all pair up and have kids. Like I said: very straight.

A whole lot of books by Jean-Louis Fetjaine

OFetjaine is a historian, and I guess he's really interested in Arthurian mythos especially, because he loves it so much he's written two separate high fantasy retellings of them! I'm not criticizing, mind you, we all need a hobby.

The former, the Elves trilogy (pictures above) is very traditional high fantasy. Elves, dwarves, orcs, a world which is definitely fictionalized with a pan-Celtic vibe to it. The holy grail and excalibur are around, but they're relics possessed by the elves and dwarves with very different powers than usual. Et cetera.

Fetjaine also really loves his elves (as the titles might imply), and while they're not exactly Tolkien elves, there's a similar vibe to them. If you like Tolkien and his elf boner, you'll probably like this too. And conversely, if that turns you off, these books probably also won't work for you.

This series also has a prequel trilogy, centered around the backstory of one of the main characters. I...honestly don't remember too much about it, but I liked it, so, there you go, I guess.

I said Fetjaine did it twice. The other series is the Merlin duology, which, as the title implies, is a retelling of Merlin's story. Note that Merlin is also in the other trilogy, but it's a different Merlin; like I said, completely different continuities and stories.

This one is historical fantasy, so it's set in actual Great Britain, and Fetjaine attempts to connect Arthur to a "real" historical figure...but, you know, Merlin is also half-elf and elves totally exist in Brocéliande, so, you know. History.

Okay, that's probably enough fantasy, let me give some classics too.

L'Arbre des possibles et autres histoires - Bernard Werber

Bernard Werber is a pretty seminal author of French sci-fi and I should probably be embarrassed that the only book of his that I read was for school, but, it is a really good one, so I'll include it anyway.

It's a novella collection, and when I say "sci-fi" I want to make it clear that it's very old school science fiction. It's more Frankenstein or Black Mirror than Star Trek, what we in French call the anticipation genre of science fiction: you take one piece of technology or cultural norm and project it into the future.

It has a pretty wide range of topics and tones, so it's bound to have some better than others. My personal faves were Du pain et des jeux, where football (non-American) has evolved into basically a wargame, and Tel maître, tel lion, where any animal is considered acceptable as a pet, no matter how absurd it is to keep as a pet. They're both on a comedic end, but there's more heartfelt stuff too.

L'Ecume des Jours - Boris Vian

(no cover because I can't find the one I have, and the ones I find are ugly)

This book is surrealist. Like, literally a part of the surrealist movement. It features things such as a lilypad growing inside a woman's lungs (and, as you well know, lilypads double in size every day, wink wink), the protagonist's apartment becoming larger and smaller to go with his mood and current financial situation, and more that I can't even recall at the moment because remembering this book is like trying to remember having an aneurysm.

It is also really, really fun and touching. Oh, and it has a pretty solid movie adaptation, starring Audrey Tautou, who I think an international audience would probably recognize from Amelie or the Da Vinci Code movie.

I don't really know what else to say. It's a really cool read!

Le Roi se meurt - Eugène Ionesco

Ionesco is somewhat famous worldwide so I wasn't even sure to include him here. He's a playwright who wrote in the "Theater of the Absurd" movement, and this play is part of that.

The premise of this play is that the King (of an unnamed land) is dying, and the land is dying with him. I don't really know what else to say. It's theater of the absurd. It kind of has to be experienced (the published version works fine, btw, no need to track down an actual performance, in my humble opinion).

The Plague - Albert Camus

You've probably heard of this one, and if you haven't, let me tell you about a guy called Carlos Maza

I'm honestly more including this book out of a sense of duty. The other three are books I genuinely liked and happen to be classics. This book was an awful read. But, um. It's kind of relevant now in a way it wasn't (or didn't feel, anyway) back in 2008 or 2009, when I read it. And I don't just mean because of our own plague, since Camus's plague is pretty famously an allegory for fascism, which my teenage self sneered at, and my adult self really regrets every feeling that way.

Okay, finally, some more lighthearted stuff, we gotta talk about the Belgian and French art of bande dessinée. How is it different from comic books or manga? Functionally, it isn't. It really comes down more to what gets published in the Belgian-French industry compared to the American comics industry, which is dominated by superheroes, or the Japanese manga industry, which, while I'm less familiar with it, I know has some big genre trends as well that are completely separate.

The Lanfeust series - Arleston and Tarquin

This is a YA mega-series, and I can't recommend all of it because I've lost track of the franchise's growth. Also note that I say "YA", but in this case it means something very different from an American understanding of YA. These books are pretty full of sex.

No, when I say YA I mean it has that level of maturity, for better or worse. The original series (Lanfeust de Troy) is high fantasy in a world where everyone has an individual magical ability but two characters find out they're gifted with an absolute power to make anything happen, and while it gets dark at times, it's still very lighthearted throughout, and the humor is...well, I think it's best described as teen boy humor. And it has a tendency to objectify its female characters, as you'll quickly parse out from the one cover I used here or if you browse more covers.

But still, it holds a special place in my heart, I guess. And on my shelves.

The sequel series, Lanfeust des Etoiles, turns it into a space opera, and goes a little overboard with the pop culture reference at times, though overall still maintains that balance of serious/at times dark story and lighthearted comedy.

After that the franchise is utter chaos to me, and I've lost track. I know there was another sequel series, which I dropped partway through, and a spinoff that retold part of the original series from the PoV of the main love interest (in the period of time she spent away from the main group). There was a comedy spin-off about the troll species unique to this world, a prequel series, probably more I don't even know exist.

Les Démons d'Alexia

Something I can probably be a little less ashamed of including here.

Some backstory here. The Editions Dupuis are a giant of the Belgian bande dessinée industry, and for many, many years I was subscribed to their weekly magazine. That magazine was (mostly) made up of excerpts from the various books that the éditions were publishing at the time; those that were made of comic strips would usually get a couple pages of individual scripts, while the ongoing narratives got cut into episodes that were a few pages long (out of a typical 48 page count for a single BD album). Among those were this series.

For the first few volumes, I wasn't super into this series, probably because I was a little too young and smack dab in the middle of my "trying to be one of the boys" phase. But around book 3 I got really invested, to the point where I own the second half of the series because I had canceled by subscription by then but still wanted to know more.

Alexia is an exorcist with unusual talents, but little control, who's introduced to a group that specializes in researching paranormal phenomena, solving cases that involve the paranormal, that kinda stuff.

As a result of the premise, the series has a pretty slow start since it has to build up mystery around the source of Alexia's powers, but once it gets going and we get to what is essentially the series' main conflict, it gets really interesting.

Plus, witches. I'm a simple gay who likes strong protagonists and witches.

Murena

There was a point where my mtyhology nerdery led me to look for more stuff about the historical cultures that created them, and so I'd be super into stuff set in ancient Rome (I'd say "or Greece or Egypt" but let's face it, it was almost always Rome).

Murena is a series set just before the start of Emperor Nero's rule. You know, the one who was emperor when Rome burned, and according to urban legend either caused the fire or played the fiddle while it did (note: "fiddle" is a very English saying, it's usually the lyre in other languages). He probably didn't, it probably was propaganda, but he was a) a Roman Emperor, none of whom were particularly stellar guys and b) mean to Christians, who eventually got to rewrite history. So he's got a bad rep.

The series goes for a very historical take on events, albeit fictionalized (the protagonist and main PoV, the titular Lucius Murena, is himself fictional) and attempts to humanize the people involved in those events. Each book also includes some of the sources used to justify how events and characters are depicted, which is a nice touch.

It's also divided in subseries called "cycles" (books 1-4, 5-8 and the ongoing one starts at 9). I stopped after 9, though I think it's mostly a case of not going to bookstores often anymore. Plus it took four years between 9 and 10, and again between 10 and 11. But the first eight books made for a pretty solid story that honestly felt somewhat concluded as is, so it's a good place to start.

[welllpthisishappening]

First-Line Defensive Pairing

Of all the things they’d done in the last few months, spending the afternoon at the Museum of Ice Cream was one of the more ridiculous. Mostly because of the wooden spoons they gave out on the tour. Partially because it seemed Will Scarlet could not stop casting furtive glances at Belle French. Or the heels that always matched her dresses. Maybe because she kept answering his hypothetical questions. And maybe even because he was willing to drift far closer to genuine these days. At least when it came to his feelings for her.

————

Word Count: 3.7K AN: Take two! Ok, so apparently yesterday when I posted this Tumblr thought it’d be a really cool idea to just...reformat the entire story. With whole graphs in totally wrong spots. Anyway, here it is again. Just as ridiculous as yesterday. With just as many Will and Belle emotions. Because that’s a thing I’m doing now, apparently. Writing Blue Line-era Will and Belle. If you’d like more of these flirt-prone idiots, here is their first date and Belle getting annoyed that Will fought someone on the ice. Technically, this was part of the kiss prompts and was “height difference kisses.” I hope the five of you who are interested in this enjoy it. That includes @shireness-says​ and @eleveneitherway​ who are mostly to blame for this.

————

“I’m going to ask you a hypothetical question.”

Belle lifted her eyebrows. Let some of that light creep back in her gaze, a flash of amusement that regularly made Will’s stomach leap dangerously close to the base of his ribs. That’s why he did it. Maybe not the rib thing, partially because he wasn’t even sure that was the correct technical term. The rest of it, though. The eye thing. Sure. Definitely. One-hundred percent. Why he’d also made sure the little wooden spoon they’d been given at the start of this tour was still in the corner of his mouth; to guarantee absolute absurdity, and he figured that started when they decided to spend their afternoon at the Museum of Ice Cream, but he was willing to take it all a step further. 

In the absurdity factor, at least. 

Other things were—

Well, it wasn’t as if they explicitly decided to keep the relationship a secret. Not on purpose. Not really. Or come to any sort of legitimate agreement regarding the use of the word relationship. It never seemed...important, honestly. And that was a potentially problematic and lackadaisical approach to someone who made Will smile with an almost alarming consistency in the last few months, but she’d also sort of snuck up on him, and Ariel was going to be so annoying. 

About the whole goddamn thing. 

She’d never shut up about it, he knew. 

So he didn’t push. Belle didn’t, either. An unspoken agreement, that’s what it was. He had other things to do, anyway. Like get ready for a playoff run and ignore the lingering ache in his calves after the echo of Arthur’s whistle stopped ringing in his ears, and, ok, his apartment was starting to feel a little bit larger than it had in a long time, maybe since Killian had moved out, but that was fine. Cup runs did not come because someone was in a relationship. Will had seen that first hand. With Cap, of all people. 

Watched the way his whole life had fallen apart around his ankles, little shards of hope and possibility that, Will knew, still threatened the structural integrity of Kilian’s internal organs and all four ventricles of his heart, and he did not understand enough basic biology to be making those sorts of sweeping observations, but Robin had lost someone too and that had been horrible and tragic and—

If Will simply did not want to jinx things, then that was neither here nor there.

Relationship’y speaking. 

It was good. They were good. He hated the wooden spoon they gave them to taste test half a dozen ice cream flavors. 

He was legitimately worried about getting splinters in his tongue. 

No excuses could possibly reason away that problem pre-game. 

Belle’s eyebrows were still in the same spot. “You going to follow up on that, or…” “Would you burn a Gutenberg Bible? To stave off the apocalypse and or potential frostbite?” “Those two things go together, do they?” He shrugged. “In this instance, yeah, because—” “—Well, it wouldn’t matter,” Belle said, eyes flitting towards the overly enthusiastic tour guide and the seemingly never-ending history of ice cream, “because I wouldn’t allow myself to be in that position. And I don’t live anywhere near the Public Library. What would I be doing there when the freeze-wave came?” His stomach. Did that thing. Jumped and twisted, got a ten from the Russian judge on its floor routine. He was cautiously optimistic he’d be able to pull off a flawless beam performance too. It was an exceedingly convoluted metaphor. Wrong Olympics, too. 

“Does salt air give you mind-reading powers?” “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are,” Belle grinned. Moving her hand faster than he was entirely prepared for ensured that he nearly dropped his small plastic cup of churro churro ice cream. He made noise. Without trying. A hiss and a grunt in the back of his throat that then led to a sound escaping between Belle’s half-hearted scowl, and that sound was closer to a giggle than either of them would ever admit and just enough to mess with his mental faculties a little and the tour guide stopped talking. To stare straight at them. 

Color lifted on Belle’s cheeks, ice cream-covered spoon held awkwardly between them. 

“As you were, ma’am,” Will said, all false bravado, and that was something of a trend. In several different capacities. It was far too depressing a thought to have while eating cinnamon-flavored ice cream. 

Belle elbowed him. 

And the tour guide got back to her to spiel. Without a reprimand. 

“Say freeze-wave again without laughing.”

Her eyelashes were more of a problem, honestly. Than the eyebrows. Or the specific jut of her chin Will had rather quickly learned meant she was ready to challenge him on some ridiculous topic, fully prepared to argue a position she might not have otherwise agreed with. Only because it wasn’t what he was arguing, and it was easy to understand why she won that Model UN award. 

Plus, her eyelashes were just stupid long, and he thought she was really pretty. 

Like in a fundamental sort of way. 

“Freeze-wave,” Belle enunciated, pausing between syllables for maximum effect, “are you asking me Day After Tomorrow questions because of the ice cream, because I’m a librarian or because you’re the strangest man alive?” She finally ate the rest of the ice cream. It was starting to melt, that was why. This was very melt-prone ice cream. “Oh, shit,” she mumbled, “this is really good. Better than mine.” Something popped in his shoulder when he reached towards her plastic cup. He wouldn’t tell Ariel about that, either. 

“Which kind is—” Fighting off the objections of a small librarian who resolutely refused to wear anything except heels, no matter what the weather was like, was not usually as difficult as it was in that moment. Will assumed it had something to do with sugar. Or the force of his smile. Robbing the rest of him of energy and the ability to fend off either one of Belle’s fists. “Why are you like this?” “You didn’t want to try peanut and pretzel. With peanut butter swirl.” “Swallowed the flyer for this place while I wasn’t looking, huh?” Sticking her tongue out was distracting. Almost enough that he didn’t notice the absolutely atrocious attempt at impersonating his voice. “Oh, no, no, babe, I don’t want that; you can get peanut butter anywhere. That’s not special.” “Well, it’s not.” “I’m a big fancy hockey player, and I know everything there is to know about ice cream flavors and the potential life-changing palette moment that comes from the sublime combination of salty and sweet.” “Oh, now you’re just taunting me.” Her eyes narrowed, that time. His smile was going to permanently stretch out his cheeks. “You have a disgusting mind.” “You can’t get churro ice cream everywhere, babe.” “I’m going back to get honey later.” Will hummed. Stuck his lower lip out. Noticed that flash return. And hoarded it. Like a relationship—

Ah, fuck. 

“Would you burn the Gutenberg Bible?” Her laugh was quickly becoming his favorite sound. Which wasn’t bad, per se. Was just kind of passably concerning. God damn. It was the heels. All of them kept matching the dresses she wore. She kept wearing dresses. 

Of course, that was going to mess with Will’s head. 

Belle shook her head. “No.” “Historical significance?” “Well, once again, I would not be in that position, would have listened to science and fled to warmer climates, so as not to make myself prey for escaped...what were they? Tigers?” “I honestly can’t remember,” Will admitted. 

“This was your hypothetical!”

Heads snapped their direction. Frustration creased the tour guide’s forehead, and they’d paid extra to learn about the history of ice cream. Will had already known about the origins of the ice cream cone, though. So, the whole thing felt almost like a raw deal, and he was far more interested in preserving the color in Belle’s cheeks. He saluted. Who he was saluting was anyone’s guess, but it very likely was the otherwise unengaged teenage kid trudging behind his family who absolutely recognized Will. 

“That’s going to end up on sixteen different social media sites,” Belle warned, not quite able to get her voice to an appropriate whispering level. 

“So long as he got my good side, you won’t hear me complaining.” “Do you have a good side?”

“Sweetheart, the self-confidence. God.” She squeezed her eyes shut. While practically beaming at him, and Will had to bend his knees to reach, something else creaking in the process, but that was fine, and good, and pretty goddamn fantastic because her lips tasted a bit like chocolate. 

“‘S’not your best work,” Belle mumbled, almost entirely into his mouth. 

“Brain freeze.” “I would burn no books. That’s my final hypothetical answer.” Her eyelashes must have existed purely to torment him. Leaning back made it clear when they fluttered back open, and he swore there were flecks of gold in her eyes. Maybe he was melting, too. With the ice cream. That was almost poetic. “None at all? What if you were going to die?” “Maudlin.” “I don’t know what that means.” “Liar,” she challenged, another smile tugging at her mouth, and Will was clearly staring at her mouth. Stained slightly with chocolate, as it was. “I stand by it, though. The book stuff, not the commentary on your burgeoning intelligence.” “You want to find a corner to go and make out in?” Different laugh. The kind that came with her head thrown back, hair tickling Will’s forearm because at some point his arm had found its way around her, and touching Belle was becoming something almost close to second nature. “I could keep complimenting you if you want,” Belle said, “or I could give you my reason for not burning books.” “You’re a giant nerd, that’s why.” She clicked her tongue. “Very, very cute nerd, though.” “Betcha say that to all the girls.”

His stomach stilled. Dropped a few inches, for good measure. Below where it was supposed to be, and inching dangerously close to his feet, and what Will could not imagine was a very sanitary floor. The Museum of Ice Cream had a giant sprinkle pit. Nothing about that seemed very sanitary. 

“I think stories have a purpose,” Belle said, still not quite whispering but definitely getting there, and he knew. Knew she knew. What he was thinking and feeling and unspoken understanding was quickly becoming the name of this particular game. With them. 

Where it wasn’t a game at all. 

Damn. 

Ariel was going to be so annoying. 

“No matter what they are. Shitty as they can be, all those ups and downs, and ridiculous, often unnecessary melodrama. It’s going to matter to somebody. Someone, somewhere, will be living their life and read those words or see those letters, and they’ll think, wow, whoever wrote this, gets me, and it will change everything for them. They’ll go back to it. Find solace and safety in it. Themselves, maybe. They’ll believe everything will be ok. Even if they only think that while they’re reading.” “Don’t forget audiobooks,” Will muttered, voice strangled and tinged with emotion. In the ice cream museum. Figured, honestly. 

Belle pinched the side of his wrist. 

“Ow. Avoid the bruise further up, please.” “Did you get hit?” Nodding took more energy than it should have, too. She hadn’t been to a game. He hadn’t asked her. What an idiot. “Not bad though, that’s just—” “—Par for the course.” “Mixing idioms, mon trésor.” “Oh, I got that one, actually.” “Slow pitch softball, that’s why,” Will reasoned, some of the tension he wasn’t especially pleased by loosening. 

“I think we’re on a roll now.” He hummed. Nodded, again. Curled his fingers into the back of Belle’s dress. Blue, that afternoon. With matching heels. “It all matters,” she added, soft and earnest, and his eyes snapped. To her and with her and that second one didn’t make sense, not really, but he was and wanted to be and that absolutely terrified him. 

Of it all falling apart again. Of it not being enough. 

He wasn’t enough. 

A story no one was ever all that interested in finishing. 

“You think?” Belle nodded. “Why’d you start playing hockey?” “Quite a transition.” “Tit for tat, or—no, no, c’mon don’t look at me like that.” Red stained her cheeks, now. Making it difficult to concentrate on anything else, although the desire to kiss her again was a fairly strong second, and that kid was taking more pictures. “That’s not fair.” “You’ve brought this on yourself, babe,” Will argued, and he hoped Lucas didn’t yell. At him. He’d never really listened to the social media rules. “It’s a very long, occasionally depressing story about a kid and his single mom, the second of whom often worked her ass off and her fingers to the bone, and all those other delightfully visual clichés. But then! Who would guess, she got a job picking up extra shifts cleaning at the rink in town. Home to the world’s shittiest ice and loudest Zamboni, it instantly drew the attention of our kid-like hero. 

“He was...infatuated, let’s say. With the sounds, especially. Nothing sounds like that first scrape of skates on fresh ice. Full of possibility, you know?” Belle didn’t answer. Will kept talking. “Best noise in the world. And then he learned there were other noises. Pucks hitting the back of nets. Sticks clanging together. Grunts and groans and the game itself, how loud it was. Helped silence some of his thoughts, none of which were ever very good. Lots of worries, some about his very dead sister, then a few more about that mother and her predilection toward clichés.”

“Good word,” Belle murmured. He kissed the top of her hair. The kid was openly staring at them, now. 

“Anyway, the crux of the story is that the guy who owned the rink agreed to let the kid play on the rink. Knew the mother, understood her situation, and hockey is expensive. Like, well, we spout all that bullshit about hockey is for everyone, and I’ve got to stand up there and smile and nod and agree, and it’s fucked up because it’s not really true. Hockey’s for rich kids and families with regularly functioning alternators in their car.” 

He shook his head. Had to. To chase away the memories and the cobwebs, and Cap knew this, too. Understood it, even. Remembered a life before the Vanklads, and not every kid got the Vankalds, and sometimes Will let himself wonder what would have happened if he’d found the Vanklads. Or their upstate New York equivalent. 

Gotten better shin pads, probably. 

“Hockey’s an exclusive sorta club,” Will continued, “gotta know someone who’s related to someone else, and they know someone who played, and it’s six degrees of increasingly desperate separation. By some lucky twist of fate, though, Jimmy Newell knew some bastard who knew somebody else, who saw me play, and you don’t say no to USA Developmental. Spent two years in Minnesota, way before Cap did, so he doesn’t get to claim that state as his own.” Belle’s lips twitched. “Good to know, for argument’s sake.” His stomach was becoming a problem. 

Heart, too. 

Sputtering and slamming, uneven beats that were going to leave another bruise. Will licked his lips. 

“I went to Developmental, declared for the draft, got picked by New York, went to college, stayed in college, and the rest is history. As they say.” “They do say that, yeah.” “What’s the next question, then?” “How do you know there’s another question?” “Shot in the dark,” Will shrugged, but that was a lie, and it was getting increasingly easier to read that pinch between her eyebrows. “So, hit me.” “Literally?” “Please do not literally hit me. Locksley’s been feeling the forecheck the last couple’a practices.” “I know what that means!” Someone shushed them. Will couldn’t imagine the color will ever leave Belle’s cheeks. 

He kissed the bridge of her nose. 

“Who’d you get to teach you French?” “Who said I didn’t just learn French on my own?” “Babe,” she chided, and, well, that was the tipping point. As they say. To his heart and his stomach and—

“You wanna come to a game this series?” Belle blinked. Once, twice. Leaned back. Tilted her head. Likely waited for the camera crew that was inevitably lurking in the corner he was cautiously optimistic they’d make out in eventually. Didn’t happen, though. There was no camera crew. 

Just Will Scarlet, professional hockey player, and part-time sap. Standing in one of the more nonsensical museums they’d been to in the last two months. Although they did go to the transit museum on three separate occasions, and he could honestly say he didn’t expect that. 

So, maybe this was all just—

Par for the course. 

He’d have to make some sort of deal with Eric. To make sure Ariel didn’t proclaim her relationship-plotting victories from a variety of rooftops. Someone in front office had to know someone else with Empire State Building connections. 

Zelena probably did. 

Ariel would use that. 

“Where would I sit?”

He pulled her. Up. With an almost violent amount of force, threatening the safety of both of Belle’s shoulders in the process. But she’d asked the one question he hadn’t totally considered in his half-plotted plan, and getting his mouth back on hers was an acceptable diversion. Plus, she looped her arms around his neck pretty quickly. 

Which had to count for something, he figured. 

One hand cupped the back of his head, pulling him closer. Like he had any intention of being anywhere else, swiping his tongue against Belle’s lip and swallowing her sigh. They were still in public, technically. Her feet trailed the multi-color carpet beneath them, Will’s arms tightening and his palm flat against her back and her spine, and if she kept rocking up like that, he was going to do something drastic. 

Something in the same realm as melting, probably. 

Strands of hair tickled his skin, making him tilt his head and alter the angle, and that was entirely appropriate, but getting kicked out of the Museum of Ice Cream would probably make an absolutely fantastic story. Once they told people they were—

Doing whatever it was they were doing. 

They’d get there eventually. 

“Cap’s sister-in-law is coming,” Will said, not entirely able to catch his breath, “wants to see Kris and—” “—Should I know who that is?” “Works in equipment, and that’s not really the point.” “What is?” “That Little Vankald isn’t super interested in listening to Cap be full older brother on her and, far as I know, is fully capable of getting tickets wherever she wants. Can sweet talk the gold out of anyone’s pockets, and—” “—Wait, wait, are you equating hockey tickets to gold?” “When I’m playing, ma choupette.” “Is that cabbage?” He hummed. Nearly tripped over his own feet trying to hold onto Belle and the mostly melted cup of ice cream and paying for more churro ice cream made perfect sense. At the moment. “One of the kids at school was French Canadian,” Will explained, “used to swear all the time on the ice, and then he’d use stuff like that.” “You’re sharing endearments with a trash talker.” “More or less, yeah. Used to infuriate other guys.” “Who wants to be called a cabbage?” “I think you’re super cute.” Belle scowled. Didn’t argue, though. And Will refused to linger on the beat of his pulse. “I’d really like it if you were there,” he added, “Little Vanklad’ll be cool about it. She owes me. I fed her for a very long time.” “Did you just?” “I make incredible garlic bread; ask anyone.” “Wow,” Belle drawled, “just like people on the street, or…also, do you call her Little Vanklad all the time?” “To her face and behind her back with startling regularity. Not everyone gets my French endearments, babe. Consider yourself lucky.” 

She scrunched her nose. 

Stayed silent. All Will could hear was the soft explanations of the tour guide, and the questions from tourists who probably also thought going to the Museum of Sex made them edgy. After they bought a STRAND tote bag. God, maybe he was a dick. A judgmental dick, who still had too many thoughts and used an occasionally violent game to silence them by making sure he was the one dictating the noises and the trash talk and—

“Hey, uh, Will...Mr., uh—Mr. Scarlet? Do you think we could get a picture?”

Belle’s lips disappeared. Behind her teeth, and that didn’t do anything to temper the sound of what might have actually been joy. At the prospect of the staring teenager and his photo request. 

In the goddamn Museum of Ice Cream. 

Giving a jerky nod, Will quickly scanned the kid for any team-branded, but it didn’t look like he was wearing merch and that was a rather small miracle. Far as those things went. 

Still, he had been in the middle of a pretty intense internal dialogue and potential freakout, and there was going to be ice cream on his hand if he didn’t throw this cup away. 

Belle took the phone. 

The kid’s phone. 

“Smile,” she instructed, and Will tried. Really. He hoped he didn’t end up looking like a murderer on Twitter or Instagram or whatever kids used, and he had no idea when he got that old. When things started to freak him out, and he let the nerves claw back in, and the worry take root and—

“Hey,” he said before the kid could walk back to his parents and their matching STRAND tote bags. “You think you could take a picture of us, real quick?”

No one had ever moved faster. 

In, like, the history of photography. 

Circling an arm around Belle’s waist, Will’s smile came a bit easier and that was good because he was totally unprepared for what happened after that. Another instruction and flick of someone’s thumb, but then Belle was on her toes, even with the heels, and her lips were pressed against his cheek and it was like some sort of really exceptional sugar high. 

Without the threat of inevitable crash. 

Will didn’t think so, at least. He was also pretty positive it wasn’t tigers in The Day After Tomorrow. Wolves, maybe. 

“Tell Little Vankald to save me a seat.” “I mean, I don’t think you should call her that.”

Her teeth grazed his jaw. Both of them were laughing in the picture, the kid’s eyes going impossibly wide as Will thanked him. “How hard you think it is to set up an Instagram account?”

[itsybitsylemonsqueezy]

Hey, it’s me again! ^_^ I hope I don’t bother you too much with my requests, but your posts are so cool I just can’t help it. Upon completing Yakuza 4 I’ve had a lot of thoughts and feels about Daigo and how his character was handled across the series. To be honest, at first I didn’t like him much, because he seemed pretty bland (and his screen time leaves much to be desired), but soon enough he’s really grown on me. What is your opinion on him if you don’t mind me asking?

I definitely do not mind requests! Meta is my bread and butter c: I’ve just been busy for a few days, sorry ^^; And... my opinions on Daigo are not going to be as mindblowing or exciting as my opinions on Kiryu, I’ll be real ^^; And there’s a big advantage in Kiryu being the protag, All of the content is about him ^^; I do love Daigo, I think he’s a super interesting character, but his tragedy is just what you pointed out, he’s underutilized. And he isn’t set up very well to have the position he holds. 

But, so saying, let’s get into my essay on Daigo ^^; 

So, we meet Daigo properly in game 2. There’s little side stories with baby Daigo in Zero which helps build Daigo’s and Kiryu’s relationship and set up for what would later happen, but we don’t really know him until game 2. And game 2 is a LOT about Daigo and his arc and what he’s meant to be! There’s a tumblr text post meme somewhere with a pic of Daigo depressed in his little puffy white coat that says “And I’ll probably become the next chairman of the Tojo Clan. Things like that just happens to guys like me.” and that is totally accurate! Like, it’s a funny thing to complain about, but that’s obviously the struggle Daigo’s having, understanding from a young age that it was obviously his destiny to succeed Sohei, the only problem is uh... well... Kiryu. 

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Dojima Sohei never became chairman of the Tojo Clan. And that’s really wild thinking back to Zero and how powerful he was, he was all but a shoo in for chairman. But then, uh... Kiryu. Kiryu happened. Kiryu, and Majima I should say, are the reason Sera becomes chairman, not Sohei. Forever upsetting the wheels of fate. Given where we see Sohei next, I can’t imagine that he ever really recovered from that upset ^^; And I’m SURE it made him bitter towards Kiryu the rest of his life. And considering, again, where we see him next, I think the canon supports this ^^; 

So what becomes of Daigo’s destiny then? His father had victory snatched away, destiny denied, and everything he had slowly crumbles over time, leaving his son with less and less to inherit, but still with the ideology that he should take this over. That’s an awkward position to be in. 

And then Sera dies. Ooh, golly, I wonder who the next chairman’s gonna- it’s Kiryu. Of course it’s fucking Kiryu, how could it not be? It OBVIOUSLY should be Kiryu. He’s the strongest, the bravest, and who inspires the most loyalty. It doesn’t matter that Kiryu’s never been in leadership before, he TURNS people. Kiryu could get anyone on his side through sheer force of personality, which is hilarious to say about a guy with maybe 3 facial expressions. But tell me I’m wrong. I cannot count the number of part-time antagonists who turned on a dime because Kiryu beat their ass. And anyone who can do that can rule the world. Kiryu was absolutely the best pick for chairman and I will fight the world on this.

(Abbreviated for length, this is a LONG post)

But... then Kiryu makes the stupidest decision of his entire fucking life and renounces the chairmanship. And he has his reasons, feeling unworthy, traumatized from the events of Kiwami 1, unsure if he even wants to stay in the yakuza or if there’s maybe something else he wants to do with his life... he’s going through a lot of intense self-reflection and self-doubt and, I hate to harp on it, but fucking trauma. His brother blew himself up in front of him in a bid for redemption after all but telling Kiryu that all of his mistakes are Kiryu’s fault. Yeah, no, I’m sure Kiryu’s doing FINE with that. So, like, I can see why Kiryu said no, but it was still... fucking nuts. And it irrevocably changed the trajectory of everyone in this universe. Which Kiwami 2 goes out of its way to explore. Kiryu’s leaving? Majima fucking retires, Terada’s suspect, there aren’t any old, loyal hands left to lead the families, and we see how vulnerable the Tojo clan is on every side because Kiryu just up and fucked off. 

(I have A LOT of feelings about Kiryu being chairman and someday I will have the strength to write the AU we all deserve where Kiryu stays as chairman)

So... the wheel of fate turns and oh yeah remember Daigo? Dojima Sohei’s son Daigo? The kid who’s been raised his whole life to take over the clan only to be denied at every turn? How’s he doing? Not great! It turns out, not great! Kiryu, his father figure, killed his ACTUAL father, but didn’t really, took the blame for some other weird guy, leaving Daigo with one badass mother and very little direction in life. Daigo’s been brought up thinking he’ll take over a great kingdom but all that’s left now is a broken wreck about to be demolished and picked apart by scavengers. Great, yeah, just what any kid wants to inherit. And he wasn’t trained to fix this, it’s kinda shitty to saddle him with destiny and then not train him for the thing that actually has to be done and then do it anyway. It’s real shitty actually. And not many people help Daigo. 

Daigo couldn’t have taken the chairmanship directly from Sera, he was still just a teenager then. But it probably would have been nice if Kiryu checked in with him even fucking once since getting out of jail. But no, we never explain on screen to Daigo what happened as far as I can remember. Which, I feel, is a pretty fucking big oversight. How the fuck is Daigo supposed to trust you Kiryu? Or we’re supposed to believe he just figured it out off screen and holds no grudges? Like, I’m sure knowing Kiryu didn’t kill Sohei helps, but he couldn’t fucking tell you that himself? He couldn’t trust you with that information or that conversation? Fuck this. Very understandably, Daigo has his own crisis of faith about the yakuza, very much in parallel to Kiryu’s. Why the fuck SHOULD he go to bat for a crumbling organization that has only proven itself to be a dog chasing its own tail, willing to devour itself at the slightest provocation? It took his father, both his fathers, and he didn’t really get either of them back. Why the fuck should he try to fix that? 

And to its credit, Kiwami 2 does a decent job of articulating Daigo’s motivations there. I could have done with even more, but I think they do him credit in showing him as disenfranchised and lost. And I think it’s refreshing to see someone have to confront the consequences of what’s happened since Kiryu left. Because the games don’t do a good job of showing that this is Kiryu’s direct fault. They never like to make Kiryu’s decisions have consequence, which is poor use of a protag. Rightly or wrongly, their decisions ALWAYS have consequence, or they’re not the protag. You can’t have it both ways. If this person is going to matter then, guess what, their consequences matter. Kiryu turned away. Rightly or wrongly, he did that. Daigo will never get that opportunity. Child of destiny. Not only was he bred and raised for this, he doesn’t know how to do anything else either. He doesn’t have other options the way Kiryu does. And we’re in a terrible vacuum of power. Terada’s namely in charge, but no one’s loyal to him. Even if he wasn’t deliberately fostering this, the Tojo Clan can’t survive without faith in their leader. Daigo, by fact of being his fathers’ son, can bind what’s left. And he has to because Kiryu won’t. Which is... really shitty. So either Daigo does this, or we all hang. And we never quite articulate that this is on Kiryu’s say so. Kiryu could still take over now and fix it he just... won’t.

And on top of this already comfortably stressful situation... we set Daigo up to come into a stable situation of power, where his transition would be smooth. We didn’t give him the tools to know how to salvage. He’s not practiced negotiating with hostile entities or even just people who will resent him because he’s young. And he’s lost a lot of faith, without even charisma and willpower on his side, this is a massively uphill battle. If he doesn’t believe, who else will believe him? Daigo knows this. And we watch that struggle go on, all while Kiryu just cheerleads. He hasn’t decided yet if he’s gonna stay in the yakuza either and he’s lowkey depressed after Kiwami 1. Lowkey he’s just suffering depression and can’t do as much as he normally would. Not an excuse, but I think an important way to read how tired and reluctant he is. Some therapy would really fucking help. 

Anyway, we manage to get through Kiwami 2 and install Daigo as chairman, at which point Kiryu fucks off for good. Now, he kinda/sorta leaves some supports for Daigo, in Majima specifically, but also in Kashiwagi and I wanna believe in Daigo’s mom too. She was so cool and then we just... never talked about her again ^^; Laaaame *sigh* So, I guess, Kiryu did try to fulfill his remaining responsibilities as Daigo’s living father, but mostly it was just an excuse for him to leave and not feel guilty. Mostly it was him foisting off his duties onto someone else. He didn’t stay to teach Daigo everything he knew about the people Daigo would have to control. He didn’t teach Daigo and Majima how to talk to each other, a thing which REPEATEDLY comes back to bite us in the ass. He’s not there for Daigo to ask advice and help. Kiryu is full of confidence for Daigo, he’s not TRYING to make him fail, but Kiryu’s so caught up in his own need to leave, he neglects to people who need him. 

And Daigo, to his everlasting credit, does his best to get by without Kiryu’s help. As much as possible, he never calls to ask Kiryu for help. And he does grow into a quite competent chairman! He does successfully rehabilitate the Tojo Clan, he makes them profitable again, he insists on respect and people don’t run amok under him. He does it, he salvages a dying organization. And he may not even really believe in it, but he has such a sense of responsibility, he does it anyway. He knows there’s no one else. He knows if he goes to Kiryu and says I don’t want this, Kiryu won’t help him. Kiryu didn’t mean for it to happen this way, he didn’t mean to be selfish and put others in a bad position. But he wasn’t there to listen. And I think Kiryu eventually comes to rue that. 

The very unfortunate thing about Kiryu is... he is a dragon. Even though he is kind and generous and not greedy in a conventional sense, he is greedy. As much as Kiryu is a powerhouse because come hell or high water, he does what he thinks is right... this also makes him extremely selfish. He can be blind to other people’s needs and refused to be tied down. Again, for the best of reasons, because he’s trying to raise a family, because this environment is triggering for him, but he just hauls off and does things instead of talking to anyone which... makes him impossible to have a working relationship with. He has to learn to talk and to listen and that he can’t make all of the decisions by himself. The great irony being, Kiryu never wants to, but he doesn’t know how to ask for help. He’s so used to have everything put on him, he doesn’t realize it doesn’t have to be that way... but anyway, I’m getting caught up ^^; The point is, he thinks because he ditched the Tojo Clan they no longer care about him. Which is... naive at best. Of course people still care about you dumbass. Which makes Kiryu a massive vulnerability to the Tojo. In 3 and 4, Daigo makes stupid calls trying to protect Kiryu and trying to protect his interests. And because Kiryu hasn’t left open an avenue for them to talk, Daigo has to make these decisions on his own with bad information and he does his fucking best. But... he doesn’t know how to make the best of what he has, not like Kiryu would, and he fucks up sometimes. 

I really, really love game 4 for that reason. Daigo’s fuck up is SO understandable, SO reasonable. It sounded like a good idea, it sounded like peace and harmony. And he was left without a leg to stand on before he knew it. In many ways, it wasn’t his fault. Kiryu himself says as much. And I may never forgive the end of 4 for letting Kiryu REALIZE he defaulted on his responsibilities but then, instead of changing his behavior in any way, he fucks off back to Okinawa. God... *siiiigh* ANYWAY. 

And this struggle, this lack of communication, but unstated loyalty, comes full circle in game 5. When Daigo is literally drowning, literally knows he’s going to fail this time and there’s nothing he can do, and even when he’s with Kiryu, he can’t bring himself to ask for help. He knows Kiryu won’t or can’t. Instead he asks for absolution. He tries to tell his dad he’s just been doing his best and... he’s sorry for the terrible things that are about to happen. How gutting that Daigo can only see himself as a failure because... he’s not Kiryu. No one’s Kiryu. Even Kiryu refuses to be Kiryu. But Daigo knows if he was just Kiryu, things would be better. He’s not a legend. He’s not a god. He’s not all-powerful or crazy or impossible. He’s just a guy, doing his best because he had to. Because there was no one else. And some days Daigo does great, but a lot of days, he doesn’t measure up. And that eats at Daigo like mold. Kiryu would NEVER look at Daigo this way. Heck, most people at that point would never compare them. It’s in Daigo’s head, but it still hurts. He’s still, even now, looking up to Kiryu and he’ll just... never quite get there. 

This is the only good thing I will ever say about game 6, and it was still 2 or 3 games too late, but Kiryu finally acknowledging Daigo as his son was good. Kiryu saying he was proud and saying he was grateful was good. Again, several games late, but... it still mattered. It still mattered that, in the end, Kiryu recognized his legacy in Daigo. That he understood so much of what Daigo did and does and is and was is for him. That mattered. 

Daigo is a great chairman who takes care of his clan. But he was robbed of his relationship with his father. The games never work on the relationships that exist, strong relationships, for reasons I will never understand. Games 3, 4, and 5 would have been SO much more interesting if we had just like Kiryu talk to his fucking friends. Two would have been SO much easier if Kiryu had just been fucking chairman like he was fucking supposed to be and the transition of power to Daigo came later and smoother, with Kiryu helping to make it. Daigo tries his hardest every day and he’s an incredible negotiator and savior after all the shit he’s had to pull the Tojo Clan through, kicking and screaming and fighting to tear itself apart every damn day. The generation above him is all legends, Majima and Saejima and Kiryu. Daigo isn’t one of them. But he’s better because he was here and because he tries and because he succeeds. We need Daigo. We deserve him. 

[alexlabhont]

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you

Chapter Four.

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing:  Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes)

Genre: Canon re-write (Because I can)

Rating: Anyone can read it, really

I´ll be posting this one over here because Tumblr, for some reason, thinks my secondary blog is a bot...

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

Now, about the PAIRING... I will be using choices style, kinda, because I want to give you choice at some point. If you have any comment, PLEASE BE RESPECTFULL and patient with me. This is also my first english fanfic and english is not my mother language, so... i’m sorry fo the grammar errors

CHAPTERS

The beginning

Chapter one 

Chapter two

Chapter three

ONE-SHOTS

Just a dance (Zoey x MC)

—————————————————————— 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Zoey Wade. The nerve of this girl of interrupt her meal. Poppy took the time to leave her fork down before bury her gaze into the other girl.

“I should be asking you the same thing. Who do you think you are to talk to me?” She asked exasperated.

So far she was doing good, the last details of her plan were tuned, the day to destroy Chloe and take back her very deserved number one place had come. The excitement she get every time she made a perfect move in order to obtain what she wants was in her veins, but of course, something had to happen. Or someone.

“Don’t play the fool, Poppy. It doesn't suit you. I'll ask once again: What are you doing with Beck?”

“Oh, what do we have here…?” She thought, intrigued.

“I’m sorry, did you crashed your head against the pavement or why do you think I owe you an explanation?” Poppy pushed her salad aside, her appetite completely gone because of the insolence. This Nobody thought she could come and disrespect her in her own spot of the cafeteria like they were in the same level. Zoey was seriously stupid. “Whatever me and Beck are doing is not you fucking business, Wade. Why don’t you just get a life a little less pathetic and go on with it.”

The spark in Zoey’s eyes changed, a little mix between anger and a cold serious look that, Poppy had to admit, scare her for a split second and then… jealousy? The other girl leaned on the table towards her, threatening, trying to intimidate her, but Poppy stood still, not giving her the pleasure to give in to her ridiculous games. Especially feeling all those eyes over them, people murmuring and whispering. She couldn’t let her have her way.

“Listen very closely, Min-Sinclair: I care about Beck and we all here agree you’re a selfish bitch. I know you’re not up to something good, so I will do everything on my power to make sure Beck’s far away from you claws.” That was so ridiculous that Poppy cracked a smile, making fun of Wade. She couldn't even be mad with a clown like her. “I’m telling you now, back off…”

The two of them kept that position a few second, a fight between wills neither of them wanted to loose. Finally, was Zoey the first to walk away, falsely believing her message was received.

Oh, Zoey… as if you could do something to stop her from her aims.

“Hey, Zoey?” Poppy called, the daggers in her mouth ready to hurt her really bad. “Why would anyone be interested in you while they have me?” Zoey stopped immediately, the strike hitting the spot. Poppy smirked, understanding everything right in the moment. Zoey likes Beck, it was so clear it actually felt cliché

“Ha! This must be entertaining.” Poppy thought, enjoying the effect of her words in Zoey.

“You’re just a three-digit fool who hasn't learn her place. Why don't you save yourself from humiliation and forget about Beck completely?” The strawberry blonde smiled at Zoey with a friendly smirk. “You know? My day with them yesterday was really good, so I'm feeling generous.” Poppy took her things and walked to be face to face with Zoey, who was getting red from frowning. “I’m forgetting about everything you just said and giving you a second chance. You see? I’m making you a favor! Your welcome, sweetie.” She added with an obviously pretentious voice before going out the cafeteria.

Even though she looked calm and perfect as always, inside Poppy was furious.

How she dares!

What the hell was wrong with that loser? Does she really was that horny for Beck?

“Well… if she was, I couldn't really blame her…” Poppy thought.

She wasn’t lying back at the shelter; she really thought they were cute. The way they looked at the animals, that stupid, goofy smile and congratulations Beck gave the puppies and kittens everytime Piper told them they did a great job. Poppy had a lot of fun doing the commercial, so much so she couldn’t help but be so honestly involved in the making, enjoying every part of it, in fact, Beck was different from how they’re act in Belvoire everytime they both meet.

They weren’t infuriating, insulting, a ranking climber, selfish dude who played the game even better than she expected. Actually, while having lunch, Beck was… fine. A big asshole from time to time but in a funny way. Pretending to be so nice and shit was actually easier than she thought around Beck, she was even glad to have them now at ten spot. Definitely she did a good choice.

But now, Zoey had to come and ruin her everything. And it actually pissed off Poppy badly. Beck didn’t need a personal protector, and Poppy didn’t need competition. She believed it would be easier to have Beck, at first she thought it was because they were trans, she read about it online: most people wouldn't date a trans person because… reasons.

But Belvoire proved to be different: it turns out Beck had a lot of friends, and a lot of girls daydreaming about them as usually they do around Alphas, admiring them secretly while doing exercises in the gym, trying to dance with them in parties… but Beck refused all of them. They were shy, they looked uncomfortable with anyone.

Anyone except Zoey Wade.

The both were really close, always together like Tweedledee and Tweedledum. Before all this, the very same Poppy had seen them hugging, flirting and practicing music together. Still, the strawberry blonde never thought of her as a threatening opponent. But now, Zoey Wade just make herself a target to eliminate, maybe not this time, after all, she did give her a second chance. She was a woman behind her own word.

But… She still had to do something. So she quickly took off her phone, typing a message to the matter at hand.

Poppy:

So here’s the plan

I'll need you to meet me at this address at 10pm sharp

Don't disappoint me, tushi-face 😏

She waited a few seconds, almost a minute. What took them so long?

Tushi-face🤡:

What? Why?

Poppy:

You'll have to trust me 😉

She looked at her screen, waiting for Beck’s answer. What were they doing? Texting Zoey? Her patience was running low when a little buzz alerted her.

Tushi-face🤡:

This can't be good. I'm not going

Were they serious?! Beck was playing with her kindness more than they should. No good at all.

Poppy:

Coward 🙄

Tushi-face🤡:

I'm not a coward

Quick answer. Poppy smirked mischievously. Beck always gave her a lot of information to work with, so transparent it was almost a sin to take advantage of it. Almost.

Poppy:

Prove it 💅🏻

Typing… typing… nothing… typing… typing…

Tushi-face🤡:

I’m going to regret this, am I?

Poppy:

Sending the location now

With a smug smile, Poppy send to Beck the location where the Club Malibu was. It was a exclusive place where only the elite could go. Yes, she said Zoey was temporarily off limits… but she didn't say she wouldn't be taking her chances up.

Tushi-face🤡:

Clubbing? Not my kind of place really

Poppy:

Ew, when you put it like that you sound so boring

Tushi-face 🤡:

Why do you want me there anyways?

Poppy:

All in due time, Farmsville

All in due time 😘

~~X~~

Poppy check the hour in her phone once again, it was almost 10 pm and she was already expecting Beck to show up because of the paranoia. Her foot tapping repeatedly against the floor it was the proof everyone around her needed to know she was nervous. What the hell took them so long? Did Beck decided to ditch her last minute?

Was it Zoey Wade´s fault?

She swore to god she´ll kill the girl after a humiliating and memorable reve…

“Could you calm down already? They already here” She heard Bradley say and immediately look right at the door, where Beck was being escorted to the V.I.P. area just like she asked for.

Damn, the dude knew their ways.

Beck was looking fucking hot, the black scheme really suits them and the way the shirt showed his muscles caused a lot of eyes stick to them as thirsty bastards. To top it all, the song playing in the back and Beck´s expressions were on point to make them look sexy as hell. Feeling a pang of jealousy, Poppy frowned. At what point will this bitches stop looking Beck like a piece of meat? Disgusted, Poppy stood up from her seat, very willing to show all these whores who they were competing against. With a sexy and confident smirk, the strawberry blonde walked towards Beck, sashaying her hips seductively, quickly catching Beck´s gaze.

And she loved it.

She could see the gasp, how the air escaped their lungs and redness taking over their face. Oh how she adored to cause that effects in Beck, all those girls didn’t have a chance. Embracing their strong arm, Poppy smile at them leaning her body against them, drawing a property line.

“Hey there, Tushi-face. I´m glad to see you´re not totally incapable of following directions.” She greeted them, leading the way to the exclusive section.

“Nice to see you too, Poppy.”

“Really? That was all?”

“I have to say… You´re looking fine tonight”

“Yeah, that´s what I thought”

“Is that your attempt at flattery, Farmsville?” She was not going easy on them.

“I´m not stupid enough to try and flatter you. I was just stating facts.” Oh god, that was so cliché she even scoffed. How many times have her hear that before? But something about Beck being the one to say it, turned her perfect pout into a haughty smile. As she was saying, pretending with Beck was easy, it came to her naturally, effortless.

“Maybe you´re more observant than I gave you credit for. I like it. And I have to say, I´m shocked. For once you don’t look completely unfortunate. And here I thought you were a total lost cause.” She joked, smiling just like before while having lunch.

“Wow, back to squared one already with sucking compliments?” Beck smirked, a total funny jerk.

“Try not to push your luck, Farmsville. You don´t want to be on my bad side, again.”

“Really? I don’t see the difference.” They pointed out, testing her. Poppy came closer to them, completely pressing her body against Beck´s arm, letting them feel her heat, her breast, her perfume. The distance between the two was so close that Poppy could feel their fresh breath, her own heart beating fast, excited as she whispered in their ear.

“Stay with me through the night and I promise I´ll give you a taste of the differences…”

Their dilated pupils, the small, imperceptible shiver in their body and that cute yet sexy gesture in their face that appeared after Poppy move away was all she needed to see. She actually liked them…

And she was gonna have them.

-----

Next

[rpbetter]

Hi Vespertine. Sorry to add to the pile, I promise I will send in some writing related things to compensate later. I also misgendered that user in a comment by accident with she/her. I blocked them, but they still looked at my blog, and they made a post that said by using the wrong pronouns, which they thought was intentional and meant to hurt them, I purposefully called them a hysterical woman stereotype. Obviously that wasn't true. I was just going off a comment someone else made on my blog where they used she/her, and I thought I had to correct myself. It was a case where good intentions, even if I was not happy with the user's behavior or expected to talk to them again, I was still going to use the right pronouns, but my intentions were warped by someone with an agenda. I'm sorry to hear you're getting the same heat. I didn't use my rp blog to interact with the user or talk about them because I was sure something like this would happen, either by them or other people like that callout blog, and I think other people had the same idea. I dodged a bullet there, but I'm still paranoid. I'm paranoid I'll hear a notif and see my rp blog in a callout for this, because someone hunted it down, or a callout for trying to talk to the person who started all the drama. Nobody should be scared to talk about someone on their own blog. Nobody should be scared to talk openly, in general. Nobody should be called out for trying to talk with someone either. This culture of fear is so disturbing to me.

Hey there, Anon!

Oh, I would love that, but you totally don't have to, of course. Don't feel bad for adding on, I'm here for anything at all, and honestly, with the job I'm doing IRL right now, it's really hard for me to concentrate well enough on finishing any of the advice posts (at least, to be the quality y'all deserve). It's a hot topic, it's included so, so, terribly many people in the RPC. It's also one that's generating some great, needed conversations. So, it isn't like you're adding to anything bad, annoying or distracting me, or contributing to the inflammatory side of this.

Hell, it's got to be really nice for some of the people in messages I've received to see proof that they weren't alone in this experience. I can keep publishing the hate anons for exactly that reason, and I can promise people they aren't the only ones (in this or in any such horrible behavior), but it's different to see it coming from a third party! So, thank you for that.

Though, I am deeply sorry that you were treated to more than a ringside seat in this debacle.

It's not very encouraging to be thoughtful and respectful of other people when literally nothing you can say or do will result in anything other than more twisting of your words, and that's a big problem I have with this shit. Things like actual transphobia, intentional misgendering, actual infantalization and shit treatment of ND people, actual harassment, etc. etc. etc. matter. It's just more trivializing of real problems for the sake of blowing nonexistent bullshit up, and that is immensely disgusting to me. The fact that you damn well know someone out there has had the reaction to this behavior of, well, fuck you then, fuck trans people is really upsetting.

Like, yeah, let's be real, if you require social rewards to do the right thing, you have some problems lol but at the same time, you know who does require social rewards to develop themselves? Young people. And the RPC is largely comprised of people in their early twenties who, for a variety of possible reasons, are still at that point

Furthermore, no, it's not anyone's job to be good representation at all times, especially when that performance comes at a cost to themselves, but maybe don't go out of your way to be the person that is the necessary push in the wrong direction of someone's formative experience with people of your community. If it's costing you nothing to not clown on serious issues, but is costing the entire world another bigot for you to clown on serious issues, the choice should be a bit obvious here. Whenever you're in a safe place - physically, emotionally - and capable of that kind of logic, exercise it, damn.

It's definitely a better course of action than playing out skewed activism by vilifying innocent people, more worthy of one's effort than losing their collective shit over a very easy mistake. One that I'd say was even less avoidable in your case. AGAIN, how, exactly is anyone supposed to know this shit when they're blocked? When they aren't subverting the blocks they, themselves, put in place? I know for a fact none of them are looking at the information of the people they choose to try to drive out of the RPC, but everyone else is supposed to make zero reasonable assumptions, check and recheck blogs they have made an effort not to visit for good reason. Sounds absolutely reasonable and sane!

So, you know what? I'm going to be even more offensive here and talk for a moment about why these mistakes are reasonable.

When we see a post and reblog it, it's not unreasonable to assume that the OP had knowledge we didn't. Since we blocked the offending party, but they're discussing them. OP uses the incorrect pronouns, we end using the incorrect pronouns as well. This is not malicious intent. It isn't intentional at all, it's just having a discussion. A discussion that wouldn't have even transpired if they hadn't taken it upon themselves to (what a coincidence) take personal issue with a RPer they repeatedly took out of context and decided to shame for it, before proceeding to get an even bigger stick and pot.

When we decide to block a blog, it's our responsibility to stay off of it. Not go looking at it for any reason. That is now off-limits. When someone blocks us, it's also our responsibility to respect that decision, no matter how outrageous it was, no matter what we might need to verify. That's the issue with blocking when we don't exploit how easy it is to get around blocking on tumblr; we've cut ourselves off from any further meaningful communication, including passive communication like rules and posts. Kind of like how you cannot expect an apology to mean a damn thing when you've blocked everyone you harassed, then made that apology in a post on your blocked blog. Don't put up walls you expect people to see through, then get upset when they can't see through them.

As a community, the RPC is primarily afab. That's never a problem to bring up when someone wants to be angry about their female muse not getting equal attention and so on, but it's a problem to discuss any other time, about any other problem. Dealing with the things that we're socially raised to ascribe to as afab people is that problem. It's reflected in our behaviors, interests, and speech. We may not want to live in a gendered world, we may eschew that, but we were raised in a gendered world and it shows. One which has a lot of complications for being that, like almost everyone feeling safer around afab people by default of the All Men Are Bad, All Women Are Harmless bullshit.

We not only know that the RPC is primarily afab, we tend to assume comfort, especially in hostile situations, by assuming those pronouns in others.

And it so does not matter how much any of us like it, some people have more masculine or feminine tones. Even in text. That means neither that someone's gender identity should be disregarded nor that this text-based presentation is correct, but like every other unfair thing that exists, it's a thing. Like you, Anon, you genuinely come across in tone as primarily neutral, slight lean toward masculine. Even if I wasn't inclined to do so, not knowing you and all, I'd use they/them for you instinctively because that's what your speech is giving me. That isn't any more unreasonable than ascribing another set of pronouns based on the same information.

Oh yeah, I know, lurkers, the difference is that they/them is the appropriate choice when one does not know. I know that logically, but people aren't always operating like robots, weirdly enough. We default to a lot of instinctive behaviors, and we aren't always operating at the top rung of cognition either. Being human works like that, it's really that simple and not malicious if you're not reading that into it.

As we're all aware, it is being read into, and your experience is exactly why; you now feel worried every time you get a notif, you've been outed as a supposed transphobe, and while it is incredibly fortunate you stopped this from transpiring on your RP blog, it still transpired somewhere and has had a negative effect. If they find they correct thing or set of things, they can get so many more people to dogpile you over it. Get enough people to do that, make someone miserable enough, especially people who are already going through a hard enough time already, they'll leave.

It is a terroristic act, and it has the effect of all terroristic acts; people are afraid to exist outside of shifting bounds (that shifting is a part of the terrorism). They can't have an opinion, write any muse/topic they wish, be honest on their own blogs, support the "wrong" topics, muns, or blogs. Attacking people for a mistake, not allowing them to address it either, just furthers all of that. It's showing the community what happens when you aren't on the "right" side, even if that isn't even the case. They certainly turn on their own quickly enough.

So, of course, it's a culture of fear and it is disturbing as hell. No one has any right to make someone feel unsafe over fiction or a hobby or a difference of opinion. Everyone has the right to say whatever they want on their own blogs, to talk openly, and yes, to try to talk to others without feeling at risk.

Even if what someone says is genuinely unpleasant. This isn't the way one handles it. By all means, have a problem with something, have a problem with someone, but grow up and talk to them openly, without bringing everyone you can dredge up to join in. I have no issue with people arguing, I have an issue with bullying. If it's your whole goal to harass people without consequences to the end result of deactivation and lockstep behavior from everyone else, that's what you're doing, folks. Bullying.

If you can't win an argument, especially one your own ass began, in any other way than this, you're not engaging in an argument.

[withoutaconscienceorafilter]

UNEXPECTED VISITOR 👀👀

WIP -- UNEXPECTED VISITOR(S)

This is supposed to be during Cable & X-Force, because that has both de-powered Nate with pre-cog visions that are slowly turning his brains to jelly and Hope chasing after her dad, but no sign of Wade and that made me sad. :( And there’s this fanart by aortdn on Tumblr somewhere with Nate sprawled on Wade’s couch with his head in Wade’s lap and Wade’s holding a gun with this absolutely mystified expression......

Also, I hate how most comics writers make Nate really mean to Wade.  :C 

Oh yes, this was written before it became canon that Hope is vehemently opposed to Wade.  ;P  Stupid canon.

 A lot of my WIP ideas like this get abandoned because I decide I’m being overly dramatic and I feel a little ridiculous.  Plus they end up full of plot holes.  So this is something I wrote myself in a spurt of romanticism and never bothered to move out of the WIP directory.  Mindless self-indulgence.

If you think I should go ahead and post this snippet on ao3, leave a comment.  Otherwise it’s probably going to just live here and nowhere else.

Nate, Wade, Hope, hurt/comfort, angst, incomplete, probably not entirely canon compliant

~~~~

Some nights start off like all the others, until one thing changes.

Wade Wilson is watching television in t-shirt, boxers, and bunny slippers from one end of his dirty, stabbed-in-places, shot-in-other-places couch.  When there’s a soft knock at the door, that’s surprising.  When whoever knocks just goes ahead and turns the handle a second later, like he or she has the right to just waltz on in, that’s even more surprising.

Wade isn’t used to anyone visiting his hellhole of an apartment.  Visiting him.  At least, he doesn’t think he is.

Except maybe Bob, but he doesn’t count.

Especially not visiting and letting themselves in.

So when Cable walks through the door, Wade’s got a gun aimed right between his eyes.

“Hello, Wade.”  It sounds tired.  Resigned.  And of course not the least bit intimidated, because his time-traveling best whatever-the-hell-he-is certainly is never intimidated by Wade.  Unclear if that’s comforting to his soul or insulting to his ego.

Reflex keeps the gun trained on Nate while Wade’s brain is struggling to catch up, finally flicks on the safety and shoves it back down the couch cushions after watching Nate close and lock the door and start carefully setting down his larger guns.

“Staying for a bit?” he asks with attempted nonchalance.

“For a couple hours, if you’ll let me.”

He looks tired.  He looks different.  New: mechanical right eye, working left eye.  Gone: techno-organic mesh.  New: actual flesh left arm and some sort of mecha robotic prosthetic surrounding it.

Still huge and muscled.  Still scars over his right eye.  Still all grizzled and old, military, GI-Joe look.  His hair is really short this time--Wade misses the slightly longer Nate hair.  Better for the running-fingers-through-it stuff.

Wade just watches, brain still trying to catch up, as Nate does something up by his left shoulder and suddenly Mr. Robot Arm opens up, slides off and gets unceremoniously tossed by the guns.

“Why?”  It comes out a little too forceful, and it doesn’t say all the why are you here? and why me? and why now? explicitly, but they’re there all the same.

Nate just shakes his head and that might have been the ghost of a sigh.  The couch shakes when he drops onto it.  For a moment he’s not quite looking at Wade but everything about the tension and line of his body says all his attention is on him.

“Can I … lie down?”

“Lie … what?”  Wade has no clue what’s going on.  “I mean, sure, there’s a bed--”

But before he can get further, Nate just gives a quiet little sigh and a shake of his head, and he’s turning and slinging his legs around over the arm of the couch and lying down along the length of it, settling his head in Wade’s lap with a tired grunt.

“Jesus Christ, Nate!  Are you dying?!”  Because honestly, he can’t think of anything else that would make big tough mutant savior do this.

Nate���s eyes close and he turns his head toward Wade’s stomach, shifting in the little ways someone does when they’re getting comfortable.

“Maybe,” is the rumbled answer.  “Telepathy and telekinesis crapping out.  Precog visions.  Tearing my head apart.  I just want a couple hours where I can pretend everything’s fine.”  Unspoken: everything between us is fine and I’m going to be fine and I’m not dying ... again.  And then, before Wade can call him any of that unspoken stuff, “Hold on.” He taps a headset in one ear. “Cable to base.  …  Yes, I’m fine, just taking a couple of hours to sleep.  …  No, extraction unnecessary.  …  I’m …” Now he sounds aggravated. ”Hope, I’m fine.  None of my visions are happening in the next 8 hours, so let me sleep before I drop dead. … You keep telling me to trust my team, so that’s what I’m trying to do.  Keep watch, deal with any shit that comes up, and don’t screw up!  Cable out.”

He taps the headset again, then pulls it off and throws it in the general direction of his guns and arm.

“Hope?” Wade tries to keep his voice neutral.  “She’s working with you?”

“Yeah.” Nate’s got his eyes closed again, head turned toward Wade. “She battered her way in, wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“How old is she again?”

A sigh.  “Sixteen.”

Wade feels it all over again like it was the first time he heard it, like someone punched him in the gut, punched the breath right out of him.  Fists clench.  Anger rising.  It’s long seconds before he can find the voice to speak.

“I hate time travel.  I still can’t believe you ran around without me for sixteen years.”

Because, seriously?  Sixteen years.  Sixteen years of being chased, shot at, shot up, getting blown up, getting older and grumpier, doing who knows what in bed with who knows who, raising a kid, and all without him?  Without giving him anything aside from a quick stopover in Alaska to say see you later?  Not dropping by for a proper reunion when he got back? And yet having the gall to walk into his apartment and flop in his lap like they’d just seen each other last week?

“It wasn’t quite that long.  We got separated along the way.”

“Still a hell of a long time!”

“I know,” said softly.  “You deserve better.”  Then, “I’m tired.”

“Dammit, Nate.”  Wade lets his head fall back, staring at the ceiling.  Because he is not going to get emotional.  And his eyes are totally not springing a leak right now.  Instead of saying anything else, he settles for lightly running a hand through Nate’s hair over and over, feeling the fuzz and prickle of it, the occasional ridge of a hidden scar on his scalp.

Nate sighs, a long, quiet thing as if tension is flowing out of him, and wraps an arm around Wade’s back, then stills.

Wade keeps letting his fingers ghost over Nate’s hair, and when he finally has it together enough to look down, Nate’s lips are slightly parted and he’s pretty obviously asleep.  Chest and stomach rising and falling slowly and regularly.

Wade frowns.  Nate must be exhausted to fall asleep that fast.

This universe fucking sucks, running Nate around like this, chasing him into other times for something like a decade and a half.  Wade doesn’t want to think about it anymore, so he picks up the remote and resumes channel surfing, other hand still gently resting on Nate’s hair.

He does turn down the sound.  If Nate needs to pass out like this, Wade doesn’t want him disturbed.

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

Wade isn’t used to anyone visiting his hellhole of an apartment.

He certainly isn’t used to two visitors in one night.

He’s nodded off in the earliness of pre-dawn, head propped on a hand on the back of the couch, dozing in place so Nate can keep sleeping.  Who cares if his leg is asleep.  If it falls off--can legs fall off from going to sleep for too long?--he’ll just grow a new one anyway.

And then the door knob rattles quietly.  Just the little sound of someone testing it to see if it’s locked.

Wade is instantly awake and pulling the handgun out of the couch for the second time.  There’s a long pause and then the lock glows blue and twists on the inside, unlocking with a click.  The handle twists and the door is pushed open a couple inches.

“Step in where I can see you,” he growls quietly.  “Hands come through first and stay up the whole time.  Or I’m going to shoot a hell of a lot of holes in my door and send you the bill.”

There’s a long pause, then a pair of slender hands, gloved in green poke through, fingers wiggle as if to say see, no weapons and then a head pokes around the door.  Red hair.  Green eyes.

“Oh fucking hell,” Wade swears, flicks on the safety, and savagely shoves the gun back down into its hiding spot.  Again.

The green eyes blink in surprise and then their owner sidles through the door, pushing it quietly closed behind her.  She’s dressed in the usual skin tight superhero outfit, except with a Nate-worthy big gun strapped to her back. Eyes wide, just staring.

Hope.  He doesn’t know her very well.  Barely at all. That hurts too, that Nate hadn’t bothered to get them together, to have him properly meet his adopted daughter.

“Whaaaaat?” Wade asks defensively.  Quietly and defensively.  Quietly because don’t wake Nate.  And defensively because so what if he has multiple hundred pounds of X-Force leader stretched across his couch and lap?  Manly, brawny, probably never-admits-weakness-in-front-of-his-kid leader?

“Sorry, I didn’t know what was--  I borrowed some of his powers to get-- I could feel him but I couldn’t read you--”

“Yeah, telepaths have trouble with me.”

“Is he okay?” she breathes, edging closer, and the ridiculousness of it all almost makes him laugh, that they both figure Cable has to be damn near done for before he does this sort of thing and sleeps through a conversation about him happening right next to him.

Wade shrugs.  “I asked him if he was dying.  He said maybe.”

And there.  That’s definitely a kid Cable raised.  Because the flash of guilt quickly covered up and the squaring of the shoulders, taking responsibility for and internalizing problems and failures, that’s all Nate.

She nods, and now she’s looking him over more carefully, scrutiny from head to toe, gaze lingering on his face as if she really wishes she knew what he was thinking.  Wade really wishes he had his mask, but it’s across the room and he’s sure as hell not going to ask her to hand it to him.

“Who are you?”

Wade hates being trapped in one place like this, so he pulls the gun back out and starts twirling it around a finger.  Most people don’t fidget with guns, but then mostly people aren’t him.  She almost doesn’t twitch a hand toward her gun in response.

“Wade Wilson.  Your dad and I were kinda sorta best buds back when he was building a floating island utopia.”  She just looks at him blankly.  “Also known as Deadpool?”  And now her eyes get really wide.

“I do know you,” she says cautiously.  “A future you saved me from Stryfe.”

“Oh.  Do I?  Good for future-me.  Did Nate see it?  ‘Cause it’s always nice when he realizes I have a good side.”

“He … uh.  Yes.  He also told me not to trust you.  And worse.”  She gives sleeping Nate a hard look tinged with disbelief, as if to say, you hypocrite.

Wade gently sets down the gun before he shoots something or someone.  Hunches forward a little because he really doesn’t need her seeing the hurt he’s sure is all over his face.  “Nate,” he says softly toward the man in his lap, “you suck.”

That appears to actually get through, because Nate frowns, makes a frustrated grumbling sound.  His eyes squeeze tight as a tremor of clenching and unclenching muscles runs through him, a morning stretch.  His arm tightens around Wade and pulls him closer, forehead resting on stomach.

“Hey, Nate.”  Wade pokes him in the shoulder.  “You might want to wake up.  Your girl’s here.”

Nate makes an unhappy noise along the lines of “nnnngg”, but rolls and sits up, blinking blearily at Wade’s second unwelcome visitor.  “Hope.  What the hell are you doing here?”

Hope gets a stubborn look on her face. “You weren’t answering your com.”

“I was asleep.”

“You still weren’t answering.  You always answer, even if you’re catnapping.”

A groan, rubbing a hand over his face.  “I wasn’t catnapping.  Wanted to really sleep for once.”

The curiosity and disbelief are almost palpable, rolling off her.  “Why here?  You told me Deadpool couldn’t be trusted!  You told X-Force to ‘gut him and dump him!’”

That causes double flinches for very different reasons, and Nate glances guiltily sideways at the other man on the couch.

“Yeah, Nate,” Wade says with deceptively calm.  “That's even meaner than usual. What’s up with that when Hope was telling me this future-me saved her ass?”

“Wade, you couldn’t be trusted,” and he sounds deeply pained.  “How many times have you backstabbed me?  Tried to kill me?  Lost your mind or your memories so bad who knows if you’d even remember what side you’re on?  It… you… he was roughly a thousand years in the future. Not just crazy. Mad.  Falling apart, healing factor running out, a dead man walking.  Working for Stryfe.  Lost.”

It hurts.  He’s only looking at his clenched fists when he says, “I never backstabbed you in a way you couldn’t recover from, Mr. Hypocrite Who Exploded My Head Multiple Times.  I haven’t tried to kill you in years, aside from being brainwashed, but that wasn’t really me trying to kill you.  And...”  He swallows, wishes he had something smartass and irrelevant to say instead. Finally looks Nate in the face long enough to say, “I don’t care what I remember or how crazy I am.  I’m always on your side.”

Nate drops his head, folds his hands over the back of his head, elbows on his knees.  Not looking at either of them, blocking them out.  Hope is hovering, looking unsure if she should get further away or come closer to comfort her dad.  Wade is just watching--what he just said was as exhausting as an entire fight.  Nate’s shoulders shake with the slightest tremor, but his voice is steady.

“Wade, I can’t trust you.  I’m sorry.  I can’t trust anyone.  Maybe Hope.  It never goes right.  Plans, intentions, it all leads to weaknesses.  I can’t even trust myself.”

“Nate.”  He puts out a hand, very carefully settles it on a shoulder.  Because he’s pretty damn mad at Nate right now, but it’s also obvious Nate’s got some messed up head stuff going on here.  “Listen to yourself.  When the hell did you get so lost?  You used to trust people.  Irene.  Gareb.  Forge.  Prestor John.  Johann.  Maybe you didn’t tell them everything, but you were a team.  Six Pack and X-Force before that.  I think you even trusted me, until I screwed up and you kicked me off the island.  For god’s sake, you cared about other people enough that you burned your powers out fixing my screwed up, useless head!  How’d you get from that to this?”

“This?” It sounds hollow.

“Mean and untrusting.”

“Wait, what?” That’s Hope. Wade flinches again.  He’d almost forgotten she was there.  “What do you mean, burned himself out?”

Wade glares at her, taps the side of his forehead.  “My brain’s a mess.  Between cancer, my head getting constantly stabbed and shot, and my healing factor, it ends up as ugly on the inside as the outside of me.  Last time I was actually sane and able to remember everything was because your dad went inside my head and fixed it.  He could have stayed an omega-level telepath and telekinetic again, but instead he wasted it on me.  And it didn’t even stick.”  And that totally was not almost a sob, Wade is denying it forever if anyone asks.

Hope stares at him, then her dad.  “Is he telling the truth?!”

“Yes.”  Nate’s still hunched over, not looking at either of them.  “He’d just saved my life. Twice. He had holes in his mind.”

“I told you to walk away!” Wade snarls, hand on Nate’s shoulder clenching.

“Like hell,” Nate snaps back, starting to straighten.

Hope just stares at them, like they’re the world’s biggest idiots and confusing her by being unable to see to what’s obvious.

“Dad, if you care that much but you can’t trust him when he’s broken, why don’t we just fix him again?”

[whiskynottea]

An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27,  Chapter 28, Chapter 29, Chapter 30, Chapter 31, Chapter 32, Chapter 33, Chapter 34, Chapter 35,  Chapter 36, Chapter 37, Chapter 38, Chapter 39, Chapter 40, Chapter 41, Chapter 42, Chapter 43, Chapter 44,  Chapter 45, Chapter 46, Chapter 47, Chapter 48, Chapter 49, Chapter 50, Chapter 51 Chapter 52, Chapter 53, Chapter 54, Chapter 55, Chapter 56, Chapter 57, Chapter 58, Chapter 59

AO3

(long) A/N: This story was born as a result of my procrastination. I wrote the first chapter instead of working on the paper for my PhD, an evening I was alone in the lab. I couldn’t resist, because I could see Jamie right there in front of me, teasing Claire in the class. Now, a year and a half later, I have finished writing my paper and my PhD thesis, got my PhD and I prepare for the next stage of my life. I guess what I want to say is… It has been a journey. 

I posted the first chapter as a one-shot and your feedback made me go on. Back then I knew the beginning and the end of this story and thought it would be about 20 chapters long. Well, these two kids had other plans. They had so much to do in between, to live together, that the story kept becoming longer and longer. And I loved it. I loved writing them. I really, really did.

When I was a few chapters in, I posted something about English not being my native language (as if that wasn’t obvious -- I had just started writing in English). The amazing @theministerskat saw that post and sent me a dm offering to beta Thermo. She was the first person I talked to on Tumblr and has stayed with me since then, correcting approximately 124,472,539 wrong prepositions in the process. Kat, I hope you haven’t regretted that dm. I can’t thank you enough. Love you.

So, here we are. The last chapter! Thank you all for the love you have shown to this story. Thank you for your reblogs, comments and likes. Thank you for your messages. Thank you for being a part of this journey! You’re amazing.

                                – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Chapter 60. An Interruption in the 1st Law of Thermodynamics

Oxmas.

A little Christmas bubble in Oxford before the end of the term, created for the students to celebrate the holiday together. Even if it had to be a month early. 

Music, colourful Christmas markets, trees going up on the streets -- even at the centre of the old Bodleian court. I could never have imagined the Bodleian court looking more beautiful, but apparently, everything looks better with a Christmas tree.

My legs were hurting from the midnight ice-skating Malva, Mary, and Maisri had dragged me to. The three M’s of my Catastrophe, as I called them. But it was fun. A lot of fun. So much fun that I had forgotten myself for a while and laughed with all my heart.

Then I’d remembered that I would never tell him how great midnight ice-skating with friends was. 

Him. Sometimes it was difficult even to think of his name, let alone say it.

But life was going on and I was still at Oxford, with friends and our magical Christmas campus. Thinking about how terrible the holiday would be back at home, I decided that I owed it to myself to have a little bit of fun here.

I didn’t want to think about the end of the term. I was supposed to go to the US and then to Lallybroch with Jamie. Lamb wouldn't be in Edinburgh, because when I announced my initial plans he’d decided that he wouldn’t fly back. He was at a critical point in his research, he’d said. 

Back then, it was fine. Lamb was happy and he’d eased my guilt for leaving him alone in a single phone call. 

It was the reason I still hadn't told Lamb about Jamie. I didn’t want him to come back because his little niece couldn’t handle a break-up. And now, once the term was over, I would spend a month in Edinburgh alone, most probably studying for the next term. The ideal Christmas break. Just awesome.

“You’re still in your pyjamas?” Malva’s eyebrows shot up the moment she entered my dorm room. 

“Yes?” I asked confused, as I watched her walking towards me, shaking her head.

“Today is the event at Bodleian’s Old Schools Quad, remember? The one with the projections of maps on the buildings? You said you wanted to go!” 

I had said that, but then I forgot about it. It would be amazing, seeing the maps from the Bodleian Library collection projected onto the library’s historic buildings. I shot Malva an apologetic glance and got out of bed. “Give me ten minutes?” I implored, and headed towards my closet. 

“We’ll wait for you outside,” she said, before I heard the door click shut. 

I wore my favourite pair of jeans and a soft, warm sweater. Boots. A woollen scarf and a beanie, that meant I didn’t have to put any effort into taming my unruly curls. In less than ten minutes, I joined Malva and Mary who were giggling at something next to the front door. 

“What?” I asked, walking towards the entrance. 

“Well, our little shy daisy here has something to tell you, Claire.”

My eyes shot from Malva’s teasing smile to Mary’s blushing cheeks. “Oh my God! What?”

“It’s nothing!” Mary exclaimed, much louder than normal. Startling herself with her raised voice, her next words came out in a whisper. “It’s nothing, nothing. I’ve only met him once.”

“Him? Who?” I inquired with a grin on my face.

“Alex,” Malva replied instead of Mary, batting her eyelashes and faking a swoon.

“Who is Alex, Mary?”

“This guy,” Mary murmured. “I dropped my scarf last night and he picked it up and gave it back to me. He was so kind, and he smiled…”

“And?” I pushed her, but Mary had hardly heard me, lost in her reverie. 

“We were walking in the same direction,” she continued, her voice dreamy. “And we talked, and I don’t know how, but I didn’t stutter at all. He had the most beautiful eyes, and he’s a fresher too.”

“Which college?” Malva asked, chewing her lip. “We should pay him a visit!”

“Nnn-o, no, no.” Mary faltered. “And I don’t know that, anyway. An older guy materialized next to us all of a sudden and told him they had to go. Alex looked at me and said --”

“Till next time,” Malva spoke, imitating a man’s low voice.

“Yes, but not like that, you know,” Mary corrected, smiling and blushing even more. “But he doesn’t have my number and I-- I don’t know how…”

“Come on.” I linked her elbow with mine. “He might be there tonight.”

I was sure Mary hadn’t seen a single projection all night, her eyes scanning the crowd for him, for Alex. It was sweet and honest, and it made my heart hurt. So I focused my attention on the lights dancing on the hundred year old walls. The old and the new, in perfect conjunction. With my eyes on the Old School Quad buildings, I didn’t notice another him until he was standing right next to me. 

“That interested in maps, are you?” Robert’s French accent stood out from the British ones around us. I hadn’t seen him since that night at the bar, three days before. We had agreed to go out for drinks again, the way people always do when they say goodbye because they feel like they have to. He had my number and I had his from when we were back in Zambia, but, as expected, neither of us had called.

“It’s enchanting, isn’t it?” I asked in a light voice as I moved my eyes over another projection. 

He made a low, affirmative sound, but when I turned my head towards him, he was already looking at me again. “So, how do you find your first Oxmas?”

Robert shrugged. “It’s weird, isn’t it? The term hasn’t finished and I still have to work on an essay for the 26th, but everyone is so cheery. And you know, the trees, the lights…”

“They create a totally different atmosphere,” I finished his thought. “It will be weird when it’s over, going back to the pre-Christmas mood.”

“Definitely,” he agreed. “But I like it.”

“Well, celebrating Christmas twice can’t be bad.”

His eyes changed for a moment, and his mouth became a hard line. Before I had the chance to say something, he smiled. 

“Christmas is not my favourite time of the year,” he explained softly.

I was ready to ask how that could be, but I stopped myself in time. His mother. Maybe Christmas brought back memories of family traditions, and his mother was an inextricable part of this time for him. As Ellen had been for Jamie. I wondered whether not having so many memories from my parents was beneficial from time to time. But then, I would give my soul for a few more moments with them.

I took a step towards Robert and squeezed his arm in solidarity. Neither of us spoke, but we didn’t need to.

At some point, Malva disappeared and a bit later I felt someone pinching my arm.

“Ouch!” I turned to look at Mary. “What?” She was blushing again, and when I looked next to her, I saw a skinny guy with brown hair and the sweetest smile who was blushing too. 

“I didn’t find him, but he found me,” Mary whispered to me, her eyes shining with happiness. “Do you mind if we leave?”

I bit my lip to stop the smile from growing wider on my face. “No, of course not. Good luck!” I watched them until they disappeared into the crowd. 

I spent the rest of the night standing next to Robert, admiring the projections, enjoying the comfortable silence between us, and letting the colours of light sneak into my heart. 

“So, what’s the plan now?” he asked once the event was over. He looked around, searching for something. Or someone. “It seems that my friends ditched me,” he observed a moment later.

I snorted. “Yeah, mine too. Not big fans of maps, it seems.”

“Booze sounds better,” he commented. 

“Does it?” I wondered. 

“Oui. Join me for a pint?” Robert winked at me, then looked nonchalantly at the people leaving the library.

“You know that once I take the beanie off, a jungle of curls will be waiting underneath it?” I half-joked, half-prepared him for what he would see.

Robert laughed, then looked at my beanie as if I was hiding a little monster underneath it.

“You’re right,” he grimaced after a long moment of examination. “We better just walk around.”

His grimace became sincere when he felt my blow to his arm. “You’re an arse,” I added, for good measure.

“I think I’ve heard that one before,” he laughed, rubbing his arm. “That hurt,” he grumbled. “You’re paying for the drinks.”

“Fine! But no hair jokes for the rest of the night!”

“Deal!” he said, tugging on a curl, stretching it out and watching it spring back.

We went to a crowded pub, sat at the only available table in a corner, but Robert didn’t let me pay for the drinks. We talked about life in Oxford, the medical school and his courses on economics, and I tried hard to keep Jamie out of my mind, not to break down just because Robert had some common classes with him. Robert talked about his father’s business in France, and listened to my stories from my travels with Lamb. When we left, he announced that he would walk me back to my dorm, because it was late and he was a gentleman. Ignoring my snort at his description of himself, we started walking towards the dorms of Lady Margaret’s Hall. 

It was much quieter now that the events were over, but students were still walking around, laughing, flirting, and giggling. The night was beautiful, and a few stars hung in the clear sky. I took a deep breath and tried to empty my head from all thoughts of my heartbreak. I had fun tonight, and I was allowed to. I was entitled to it.

When we arrived at my dorm, I turned to say goodnight only to find Robert’s face a few inches away from mine. My heart stopped when I felt his hot breath and smelled the peppermint in it, from drops he’d bought from a stall at the Christmas market. I held my breath in turn, knowing that it smelled exactly the same. I had eaten half his peppermint drops on our way back to my dorm.

I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. Before I had time to think, Robert tilted his head closer to me, and the next moment he brushed his lips against mine. It was gentle. A start. An invitation for more.

And I freaked out.

I took a hurried step back, raising a hand to my lips and looking at him through wide eyes.

Robert frowned at me, then took a step back, too. “You’re single, aren’t you?” he implored, perplexed.

“How?” I asked, not wanting to affirm his notion.

“How did I know?”

I nodded.

“You haven’t mentioned him once tonight or the other night at the bar, you’re not constantly on your phone texting him and you didn’t send him a picture from the event. Even though you loved it. It wasn’t so hard to figure out,” he concluded and shrugged, his gaze falling on my lips again.

“I guess I’m quite easy to read,” I murmured and heard him chuckle. 

“I like that.”

I nodded again, not knowing what to say. The truth. I had to tell him the truth. I was never good at lies, anyway. 

“Robert,” I started and his green eyes locked with mine. He was one of those people who didn’t even have to try to look good. Robert was the definition of a handsome man. But that didn’t matter at all. I took a deep breath and continued. “You’re not wrong. Jamie and I, we…” I swallowed, cursing myself for stumbling. “We broke up. But I’m not ready, and I don’t want to move on before I am. It wouldn’t be fair, to either of us.” 

Robert nodded and raised his chin, in defeat or acceptance I wasn’t sure, but kept his eyes low on the ground. “I understand.”

“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, wanting him to look at me again. “I’m still in love with him.”

At that comment, Robert looked at me and gave me a wistful smile. He took a step towards me again and placed a warm, gentle hand on my cheek. His thumb caressed my cheekbone as he murmured something in French, so low that I wasn’t able to catch it. “You’re a good one, Claire,” he said, at last. 

“I don’t know about that,” I disagreed. 

“I do,” he insisted, then took a step back and turned to leave. I stayed rooted in place. He had only taken two steps away before he turned back again, grinned at me, and said, “See you around, Miss Bennet.”

As I walked up to my room, I wondered whether he was a good one. If I had made a huge mistake by stopping him, by not kissing him back. He was beautiful, smart and witty, even if he was a little bit more cocky and authoritative than I would like. 

And yet, kissing him now didn’t feel right.

Robert had a wonderful French accent, and all I wanted to hear was Jamie’s heavy Scottish one.

I fell onto my bed, hating Jamie for ruining my Oxmas, my chances for a future, my life. Hating myself for loving him so much.

Mary came back from her date after midnight. Alex had kissed her and her exhilaration permeated the thick layer of unhappiness that surrounded me. I was happy for her. I was glad she had found someone who was so like her, who could understand her, and care for her. Who didn’t mind if she was shy or stuttered, and saw the lovely person she was.

By the time Mary fell asleep, I couldn’t find it in me to be upset anymore. But I couldn’t force myself to be happy either. I slipped into my semi-depressed state with ease, and when I realized sleep wasn’t a choice anymore, I put on my thickest winter coat and headed out to the gardens. 

I don’t know how long I sat by the river, crying, while trying to stop my stupid heart from suffocating me. At last, I lay down on the cold grass, closed my eyes and wondered what kind of an idiot I would be if I ended up with pneumonia. Maybe that would be enough of a shock to delete Jamie from my mind. 

Maybe.

I woke up with the dawn overtaking the night sky and a hand holding mine. My heart began beating faster and faster, and I closed my eyes again, trying to figure out what to do. This wasn’t a woman’s hand. It wasn’t Mary’s, or Malva’s. It was a big, warm, male hand that seemed strangely familiar. But who was I to be sure about the familiarity of hands? I resolved to leap to my feet, take a look at the person lying beside me, and if I didn’t know him, run back to my dorm as fast as I could. 

But then he spoke. And his voice was a balm that soothed reality away.

“If I lay here, if I just lay here, will you lie with me and just forget the world?”

My heart stopped and I felt my eyes grow abnormally wide as I opened them again. I tried to breathe, but I couldn’t. I tried to react, to turn and look at him, but I was afraid that he was just a dream and the moment I turned he would dissolve into thin air. He had spoken to me in my dreams before. He had never been there when I had woken up.

“But you’ve never touched me,” I croaked with effort. 

“What?” His whisper was barely audible. Tentative.

“You’ve never touched me in my dreams before.”

A chuckle. “Yeah, bummer.” His voice quivered and a shiver ran down my spine. “I couldn’t touch you in my dreams either, Sassenach, and I decided to do something about it.”

My whole body tensed.

The gall of him.

I sat up so quickly the world tilted on its axis for a few seconds. When I found my bearings again, I slowly turned to look at him.

God, he was beautiful. Those red curls, the bright blue eyes, the wide mouth. I suddenly realized why I couldn’t kiss Robert. His soft brown locks, his shining green eyes, his full lips -- they were all wrong. Perfect, but wrong. 

A small smile curled Jamie’s lips and I realized he was drinking me in too. 

And then it hit me. The hurt, the desperation, the anger. 

“What are you doing here.” It wasn’t a question. It was an interrogation. I set my jaw, resolute to be rigid, determined not to cry. 

“I had to see you,” he said in a low voice and moved to take my hand. I snatched it away from him.

“Why? Are you trying to establish a new tradition? Do we have to see each other once a month now that we’re not together?”

“Twenty-six days,” he countered. 

“What?” I asked incredulously.

“It’s been twenty-six days since that night.”

That night. I knew exactly how many days it had been. A part of me had died over the course of each one of those days. I kept my hard gaze on Jamie for a long moment, then stood up. “Well, you saw me. Now, goodbye, Jamie.”

“Claire!” he yelled, alarmed, as he sprang up and rushed to me. “Wait.” He towered over me and grabbed my arm, afraid I would leave if he didn’t have a proper hold on me. I didn’t know if he was wrong about that. I wanted to get away, far away from him. Even looking at him hurt. “Please, Sassenach.”

“What do you want?” Ice infused my tone. 

“I need to talk to you.”

I didn’t want to listen to him, and yet, I wished for him to tell me everything. I wanted to know his heart, his thoughts. I needed answers, so many answers, but just looking at him and knowing he had decided he didn’t want to be mine was stealing my breath. He was here, but he wasn’t my Jamie anymore. 

I took a step to leave and heard him gasp, as if I had shot him. I froze in place, balling my hands into fists. 

I was fighting with myself, struggling to find what I wanted, and how much more pain I could handle. I closed my eyes, trying to set my feelings in order before they could choke me.

I felt like I was four again, standing in the aisle with the chocolate bars at the grocery store and trying to choose one. It was one of the few memories I had with my dad, shopping together. I will never forget how I had stared and stared at the chocolates, licking my lips as if I were imagining their taste on my tongue, trying to decide which one I should put in our cart. And then, surprising myself, I had suddenly started crying. Soon my silent tears turned into wailing, bringing my dad’s attention back to me. 

“What's wrong, Claire?” he had asked, eyebrows scrunched in a frown. 

But I couldn't answer his question. I hadn’t known what was wrong. I only knew that I wanted to do what he had asked and choose only one chocolate, but I also wanted to buy all of them. And I felt tired, too tired to decide. I only wanted my mum, because mum would know which chocolate was the best. So I kept crying, and crying, until my breath came in gasps, and my dad's face was blurry in front of me. 

He had held my shoulders and pulled me into a hug, then, his big hand drawing circles on my back to soothe me.

“In here,” he had said afterwards, tapping lightly on my chest, “Snuggle our feelings. And they are so many, sweetheart, that sometimes they don't talk to each other and try to get out of our chest all at once. And we start crying, because we are confused and we don't know how to feel. I want you to take a deep breath, stop crying, and tell me what's wrong.”

And with my father squatting in front of me, his hands tucking errand curls behind my ears, I had told him that I didn't know what I wanted.

I felt the same now, only that I was not four anymore, and I couldn’t throw a fit. Jamie was here, standing in front of me, looking me through pleading eyes, and he was all the chocolates. And yet, I couldn't have him. I couldn't trust him, not anymore, but I didn't want to leave either. I couldn't. 

So I inhaled. Exhaled. In and out, again and again, following my dad’s advice. My coat was soaked from lying on the grass for so many hours, and my hands felt like ice cubes. And I decided to listen to him.

“Let’s go find a bench. My arse is freezing.”

I started walking and heard him falling in step behind me, undoing the zipper of his insulated jacket. “Here,” he offered, catching up with me in two wide strides. 

“I’m fine, thank you,” I dismissed him, keeping my chin high.

“Please, Sassenach.”

“Don’t call me that!” I hissed, breathing hard. He had decided that I was not his Sassenach before he made that video call. I was plain Claire to him now, and he had better deal with it.

“Please, Claire,” he repeated, rectifying his slip.

I took his jacket begrudgingly and wore it. It was dry and warm, and it smelled like him. 

Dammit.

Two minutes later we were sitting on a bench, watching the sky changing from a deep blue to a lighter one. It was beautiful. This would be one of my favourite moments with him if his surprise had happened a month ago. Now, however, I could feel the bitter taste of these twenty-six days in my throat every time I swallowed.

“I’ll hear you.”

“Can I hold yer hands, please?”

“No.” My voice was colder than my hands as I shoved them into his jacket pockets.

Jamie took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. It was such a simple gesture and so him, that I felt my heart clench inside my chest. “I miss ye, Claire,” he whispered. “Every moment, every day.”

I resolved not to talk until he was done, and to keep any tears at bay. I would not cry. I would not.

“I miss ye when I wake up and I don’t find yer text on my phone. I miss ye when the guys do something funny and I can’t text you to laugh with you about it. I miss ye when I finish training and I can’t call ye to see how ye’re doing. I miss ye when I go back to the dorm and canna talk to ye about my day. I wake up every day, knowing that no matter what happens I willna be happy, Claire... I canna think of myself without ye.”

Fuck my resolution. I had to speak. 

“You didn’t seem to have any problem with that, twenty-six days ago,” I deadpanned. 

“I was a fool.” Jamie’s voice trembled. “I thought… I thought breaking up would be hard, but we’d get over it and then everything would be easier for both of us. I could see ye struggling here, and I couldna even hug you when ye needed me, when ye were tired from long hours in the library. Ye couldna come to my races or be there to calm me down when I was stressed. Another guy in the team broke up with his girlfriend who lived in another State and he got over it, eventually. And we arena in different States, Claire. We live on different continents,” he explained as if that detail had eluded me. “I felt torn all the time, between ye and my life in the US. I ken that I was the one who changed our plans, I was the one who went to Michigan--”

“I never said anything about our plans. I never complained, and I supported your decision from the very first moment. I was the one who told you to go. That is not why we broke up. We broke up because you stopped believing in us. Because you wanted somebody who would be closer to you.”

“No!” he protested, his gaze bore into mine with insistence and flame. “No, not somebody. Not anybody. I wanted ye to be close to me, and I thought that if we were in a long-distance relationship for years the pain of not seeing each other would become too much, until we couldna take it anymore. Or what we had would become less. I thought that we would gradually fall apart, and I didna want that. I thought that we didna have any other option, Sassenach. Every time that ye missed one of my calls, or I missed yers, I became more sure of it. Then I thought…” he trailed off.

“What? What else did you think, Jamie?” I prompted, impatient. He was a mess but I didn’t feel merciful in that moment to go soft on him. Not after everything I had been through.

“I thought if we were destined to be together, maybe we would find each other again once ended up in the same country. But now I know, Claire. I dinna want to find ye again after how ever many years, and realize that ye don’t want to be mine anymore. That there is a big part of yer life that I know nothing about. I dinna want to miss yer first day in the OR, or yer graduation. I dinna want to miss yer smiles after yer tutorials, even if I can only see them through a screen. I dinna ken what I was thinking when I believed I could do it without you, but I can’t. I can’t and I don’t want to be without you.”

I huffed, partly because I didn’t want to let his words have an impact on me. “Twenty-six days. Took you long enough.”

“I tried, at first. I tried to go on, to tuck you into a corner of my heart and keep living. But I couldn’t, Sassenach, because all of my heart was yers. I could have come to find you after those first few days. And maybe I should have, but I didna, because I wanted to be sure. But no matter how hard I tried, living without ye didna become easier. It became harder. I kent how I was with ye, and now I ken how it is to live without ye. It sucks, Claire. I’m miserable without ye. All I could think of this past month--”

“Twenty-six days,” I interrupted him.

He smiled, shaking his head. “I love ye. A Dhia, I love ye so much it hurts. Twenty-six days. All I could think of was ye, Sassenach. How I wanted to share everything with ye. How I needed to ken where ye are, what ye’re doing, and how ye feel. I missed ye with every breath I took. And now I ken that I canna go on without ye.”

I’d resolved not to cry, but treacherous tears were rolling down my cheeks without asking for my permission. 

“And how do I know that you won’t change your mind again? How can I trust you again, Jamie?” My question found its target in his heart, and I saw his sharp intake of breath from the impact. “You broke my heart,” I whispered, as an explanation. “You broke me.”

He looked down for a moment, but quickly locked his eyes on mine again. “I fucked up. I know I did. Forgive, mo nighean donn. Forgive me, please.” He paused for a moment, and extended his hand between us, palm facing up. He didn’t remove it when I didn’t move to take it, and he continued. “All I’m asking for is another chance. One chance, Sassenach. If ye’re not ready, if ye need time, I can wait. I will wait for as long as it takes.”

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t think time would change how I felt. I loved him, I knew I did. But he had given up on us, yielding to his fears. He didn’t believe we would make it through all the years of our separation. He had chosen a life without me and broke me in the process.

Well, and he regretted it. It was clear that he did. I could see it as much in the pain in his eyes as I could hear it in his voice when he spoke. 

I watched Jamie’s chest rising and falling with every breath he took while he waited for me to say something. His hair was a mess from all the times he had run his hand through it. I wanted to fix it, and then run my fingers over his cheekbones, over the curve of his lips. And yet, I was frozen in my place. Not even to take his hand that lay on the bench between us.

“How can we ever be the same again?” I asked, unsure. I started caving in, and I didn’t know how to feel about it.

“I dinna want us to be the same. D’ye remember the first time I talked to ye?” he asked with a timid smile. “In Mrs. Fitz’s class, ye were keeping notes on the first law of thermodynamics.”

I didn’t know where he was going with that, but I stayed silent and let him go on.

“The conservation of energy. Nothing is lost, Sassenach; only changed. And I don’t care if we change, as long as we change together. This… Me without ye… It was an interruption in the first law of thermodynamics. Because I was lost. And that’s against the laws of physics.”

I laughed. This was ridiculous. Jamie blushed, and then laughed with me.

“I ken what I want now, Claire. I want ye. I want us. And I will fight for us, if ye let me, because what we had -- what we have -- it’s true. It’s truer than anything I will ever get. It’s more than I could ever ask for.”

I kept my eyes on the river, the grass, the sky. I felt my heart beating faster in response to his words, as if each time he spoke he glued another of its broken parts back in place.

“All I’m asking for, is a chance,” Jamie implored. “A chance to prove myself to ye, mo ghraidh.” 

“A chance,” I murmured, trying to sort the tangle of emotions in my chest.

He came closer, now brave enough to take my hands out of my pockets and wrap them in his. “I know ye and ye know me. Ye’re the only person in the world that really knows me. Ye’re my heart and my soul Claire, and I canna leave without them, can I?” Without taking his eyes from me, he leaned into me and kissed me gently on the lips. 

And damn him, it felt right. But I didn’t kiss him back. I had more to say.

“You didn’t talk to me.” I kept my voice calm. “You had all these thoughts in your head, and you left me here in the dark, thinking that everything was alright on your end. And when you made up your mind, you just called me to announce the verdict of a trial I didn’t participate in.”

Jamie opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again. I guess there was nothing he could say that wouldn’t be a lie. He had decided for both of us.

“This…” I started again. “This is not how things work, how relationships work. If you have second thoughts, I need to know. If you need something I’m not giving you, I need to know. If you believe that we’re fucking falling apart,” I finally barked, unable to keep the anger from my voice, “I. Need. To. Know.”

Jamie nodded, but I was far from finished. “What we’re trying to do is bloody hard. We need to talk, and talking includes the unpleasant discussions too. I’m not going to try again without knowing that you’ll do that.”

“I give ye my word, Claire. We will make this work. I will do anything I can to make sure it does.”

“Will you talk to me? Always?” There was no ice or blaze in my voice now. Just a question. A sincere question that demanded an honest answer. 

“Always,” Jamie vowed and leaned into me. “I will not give up on us, ever again,” he whispered on my lips, and I drank the words in.

I had trusted him with my heart before and he broke it. But he was right when he said that I knew him. And I knew he’d torn his own heart apart in the process too. I could still see the pain in the way his sweater hung a little too wide on him, in the black bags underneath his blue eyes. I looked into his eyes, those eyes I knew better than my own, and saw the truth in them.

“One chance, Jamie Fraser. You won’t get another.”

“I willna need another. Ye’re mine and I’m yers, and I will never let you go again.”

“Promise?” I asked, as if that would seal the deal. As if his promise would secure my happiness.

“Promise,” Jamie nodded emphatically, his eyes overflowing with tears that split when he closed them and kissed me again.

And this time, I kissed him back. It was long, and soft, and encompassing. It was an offering of his soul, and I took it, keeping it safe inside my chest. A treasure and a hostage. 

“Plus,” Jamie said once we stopped to catch our breath. “I offer you a chance to torture me forever for making the worst mistake of my life.”

I laughed, cupped his cheeks and kissed him again.

I closed my eyes. Life was nothing but chances and choices. Decisions. Paths waiting for us to take them. A huge aisle with chocolate bars. 

I looked towards the path in front of me and I saw Jamie and me together -- arguing, fighting, kissing, laughing. I saw a man who wasn’t flawless, but was mine. I saw a future that wasn’t perfect, but was real. 

I saw happy moments and sad ones. I saw difficulties and dreams coming true. I saw us facing life with our hands clasped tightly together. 

When I opened my eyes again, I saw a risk, but a risk worth taking. 

“Challenge accepted, Jamie Fraser.” 

And just like that, the next chapter of our lives began.

[mimzy-writing-online]

Some Blind Things I (and actual blind person) Have Done

I talk all the time about what’s realistic for a blind person to do and how to write a blind character who isn’t a complete media myth of touching faces and super powers... soooo, part of that is knowing what kind of things an actual blind person (me) fucks up doing because I’m blind.

These moments include: Me sarcastically telling people I cannot see the thing they’re doing. Moments where I have zero manners. Moments where I do have manners. Making people uncomfortable because they’re staring at me. Great phrases like, “I have too much ADHD to count to eight.” and “It’s literally illegal for me to drive.” and “Wait, who are you?” “That’s not how we talk to people Mimzy.” My cats’ growing concern that I can’t see them or tell them apart but continuing to love me. Channeling my inner Toph Bei-Fong. Updates on the ongoing insomnia writing.

There’s no chronological order to them, I’m not sure there’s going to be any order to them at all, but it’s 3 am and I can’t sleep and it’s called the Late Night Writing Advice Blog for a reason.

(I definitely did not have to double check my own blog title while typing that, definitely not)

Note: This list gets a little long, but it’s a funny read and I was up until 4:30 (this note is from a future Mimzy who’s almost finished posting this, after 1.5 hours)

Additional Note: Feel free to send anons with commentary or reblog with commentary because I would love if someone enjoyed this. Like, these are stories of my life, please appreciate them.

The Things!

-My best friend and I hang out mostly at night because of his 9-5 job, and he still lives with his parents who probably don’t like me so when we hang out we’re mostly driving around on random adventures and coffee/tea runs and late night dinners. 

So it’s night, and my night vision is awful and I have to wear sunglasses anyway because what I can see is painfully bright headlights so yeah I see basically nothing.

With my best friend, I have

1. after asking him a question: “Did you nod at me and I just didn’t see it.” “I did nod.” or after waiting long enough for a response he’ll realize what he did on his own and say, “I was shaking my head no, sorry.”

2. Reaching into total darkness to touch his shoulder and touched his armpit instead.

3. Dropped something from my bag onto his messy car floor and asked him to find it for me because it all looks blurry and grey-black down there, even without sunglasses

4. Sensed he was going for a high five and I gave him a perfect high five. Surprised, he wanted to test it again. I completely missed.

5. “We’re passing the oil refinery, so enjoy hearing, touching, smelling, tasting that.” plus 3 other identical jokes on the same drive. “Hey, can you stop making blind jokes, I’m starting to hate them these days.” “When did that happen?” “When one not-great classmate slash sort of friend made them all the time.” “That’s a shame.” “Blind jokes from sighted people are also super repetitive. The only blind jokes I seem to like are from other blind people.”

6. Him: “You’re rolling your eyes behind your sunglasses, I can tell!” 

7. Once we saw snow once our way driving home from Las Vegas. It was March, it was after midnight, and the warmest it had been at any point in that night was 40 degrees Fahrenheit (4.4 degrees Celsius. That’s a real comparison?? That’s a scary number to an American who’s barely ever left California. We were driving through the mountainy area of California where the temp really drops and for three seconds we saw snow in the wind. Well, he saw it. Something moved, it was small and flaky but like... that was actually snow and I couldn’t see it? (this was three, almost four years ago)

8. Last weekend we drove around the rich neighborhoods to look at Christmas decorations because I love Christmas lights because for ones light actually looks pretty instead of painful and I can see it at night without hurting, so it’s nice. I love the pretty visual things. Blindness will not take the pretty visual things from me! And the decorations just make me so happy and I wanted to do that last year but never did, so we did that this year

9. I also told him about the cripple punk tag on Tumblr last weekend and he was delighted to know it exists because he’s got other chronic health issues including downright awful knees.

Other blind things not directly involving my best friend

1. I have paused writing to ask a sighted person if it’s realistic for my sighted characters to see X item from Y distance away. Usually my dad with his stupidly perfect vision.

2. Realizing I’m forgetting what sighted people can see. It’s been four years since I saw like a normal person. And all my sighted memories are literally blurry from age.

3. But I still have dreams where I see normally. And then dreams where everything is too bright like in real life and I cannot see and what is happening???

At home, specifically

1. I have three cats who I can’t tell the difference between. I have a small black and brown tabby cat. A black and orange tortie cat who is slightly heavy but medium build. An all black cat who is huge and has the longest fur I’ve ever touched on a cat. I cannot tell the difference between them until I’m up close. Especially if the lighting bad.

2. Tonight I almost set my laptop on top of Remy, my brown and black tabby, because I didn’t see here a foot away from me, curled up next to my leg, somehow blending in with my orange and blue comforter. Her concerned look I did see and was horrified by my almost fuck up and apologized profusely for.

3. Cannot see Felix, my black cat, half the time if the lighting is bad and have almost sat on him, put my feet in his face, tripped over him, etc. because he blends into the shadows and oh my fucking god I cannot see that.

Note: Remy cuddles with me all the time. Felix adores me but will not be caught dead cuddling anyone because dignity, but if he’s in my room and nobody’s around to see he’s insistent on cuddling. Rio (black and orange tortie) is devoted to my mum, and she knows she makes me nervous when she suddenly jumps on me and I get really shifty and squirmy and not fun to cuddle with, so we’re cool and I give her pets but she doesn’t usually crawl onto me unless she wants to make my mum jealous.

4. Can sneak up on family members and friends because I move so quietly, so at least there’s that. Not a blind thing, but it makes up for some things.

5. Have walked up to someone I thought was a friend, realized I don’t know them, and the first thing out my mouth was “Wait, who are you?” and then a close friend (and the party host) grab me by the shoulders and say, “That’s not how we talk to people,” and just like, where are your manners Mimzy, wtf, but I never saw that stranger again so it’s okay.

Side Note: blindness aside, I do have a habit of just rudely speaking my mind in not-appropriate settings because I just don’t care and don’t have the anxiety to at least act like I care. They’re very satisfying, but usually very rare moments.

6. Please stop moving things around the house!

7. “What do you mean there are cobwebs?” *Shines a flashlight at the dark corners of my room* “oh my god...”

8. Me, to my family members, “Please close those curtains, light hurts. Please turn off that lamp, it’s too bright in here.” *me, later turns off most of the lights in the house* Family members: “Why is it so dark in here? I can’t see.” *Me, channeling my inner Toph Bei-Fong* “Oh no, what a tragedy!”

9. Mum is the only one who vaguely appreciates my light sensitivity because she also has snow vision (a mild case) and has a little light sensitivity, sometimes, on her bad days.

More Not Quite Appropriate Things!

There are so many things that I say only to realize that there is a very nearby stranger who heard that out of context and it sounded so bad.

1. Best Friend (while I’m walking down stairs just fine, by myself, don’t need anyone’s help, I can do it!) “There are eight steps.” “I don’t need your help.” “I know but--” “I’m fine!” “I’m just trying to help.” “I have too much ADHD to count to eight anyway!”

“I have too much ADHD to count to eight anyway,” is exactly what two strangers heard while walking right behind me.

Why would you sneak up on someone who’s so obviously blind??

2. “Sea foam green is an ugly color anyway.” I was in a mall, it was well lit and I was using my cane and managing with my crap vision, but I managed to see that specific color I hate on a dress right next to me, and the woman walking on the other side of the mannequin display heard that and did a double take on my obviously blind self.

Or so I’m told by my mom who could see what happened.

3. Similar to above, I was in the Artist Village in San Diego, which is a huge tourist trap, and I was sort of a tourist too, but it’s freaking outdoors, so I have the cane and sunglasses. And I’m in an Artist Village (very visual thing) with my parents, so out of place. And this random dude was apparently staring at me. Cannot see him, absolutely no idea which direction my mum is pointing towards, everything is blank and weird and not see-able, but I turned my head and by some miracle looked directly at him and he freaked out and looked away.

4. “Oh yeah, make fun of the blind person!” sarcastically, but loudly, somewhere public after a joke a friend had made that I was actually okay with.

5. “Driving and hiking are my two biggest weaknesses,” said out of context to people who didn’t know I was blind.

6. “I forgot you were blind.” “Well I didn’t.” More channeling of Toph, I think.

7. “Why can’t you drive?” *points to cane* *he does not get it* “It’s very illegal for me to drive.” *does not get it* “They’re blind dude,” classmate says. “Very blind.” “You seem to get around just fine,” says the man who only see me indoors with the very best lighting scenario for my vision. “Yeah, but that’s because I have the cane.” “So?” You seem just fine, he seems to think. How dumb are you? I definitely think. “Why do you need the cane?” “Because I would die if I didn’t have it. I have almost died. People would die if I tried to drive.”

8. Later: “Did he think you could just drive and use your cane to feel the road or something?” “I guess.”

9. More questions from other people who don’t know me very well asking why I can’t drive. “Because it’s illegal.” Their confusion is wondering specifically why it’s illegal rather than thinking I’m not actually blind. I explain the laws in the driving handbook, because I have read it (unlike some people I guess. How did you miss the ‘drivers must be able to see at least 20/40 with their best corrected eye” and I haven’t been in that category for two years.

Note: My day blindness came two years before my vision acuity reached visually impaired status. So, like, two years of wishing I had a cane but thinking “I’m not blind enough” and still being terrified in certain situations and risking my life walking around without one or some sighted guide.

Similar Public Things

1. I can see indoors pretty well so I get by on prescription glasses and no cane (I see 20/70 - 20/100 with glasses) but sometimes the mall is crowded and nobody gives me space and I’m just not comfortable getting so close to people, so I bust out my cane (and maybe my sunglasses too) so I look extra blind and people will give me the space to walk without running into someone.

2. Have also done that just because the indoor lights were also too bright and I need my sunglasses.

3. Have stared at my phone in public with cane/sunglasses, or tried taking photos with it, and I get so many weird looks because blind people see nothing I guess, none of us have any vision at all! (read sarcasm)

4. Walking into a coffee shop I’ve been to before and I know they change their teas all the freaking time. Also got the cane. “Hi, can you tell me what iced teas you have right now?” “Oh, they’re all on that sign.” *blank look* Do you not realize I’m blind? I’m thinking. “What kind of black tea do you have? Do you have any tropical black tea?” (because they usually do and I love tropical black tea, and they did that day too, so I ordered that.)

5. I cannot read menus. Those restaurants that have the menus above the register are awful, evil. Cannot read. In the wonderful days of my childhood I didn’t have prescription glasses for my moderately not great but still mostly functional vision (my dad has perfect vision and no concept whatsoever about what it’s like to not be able to see those things!) So imagine my parents dragging me to restaurants like that and I’m 10 years old and supposedly can read perfectly fine but I cannot read that menu and I think it’s some personal character fault of mine that I just don’t know how to read those kinds of menus, so I have to ask my mum to help me choose a food to order and eat, and then that’s the only thing I ever order any time I ever go back. So, I’m quickly getting sick of those places because I only eat one item there and I want to try something new with a restaurant with those nice hand held menus, but those are sit-down restaurants and apparently they cost more money, sooo...

6. That was a rant I went on with my best friend last weekend

Side note: It’s almost 4 am, my mum just woke up, saw the light on in my room from under the crack of my door and said hi. I’m at a point right now where she just expects it and isn’t one to judge (unlike my dad who has zero insomnia because he has hypersomnia and I don’t know how humans do that)

Side Note Ten Minutes Later: My laptop is at 10% but I plugged it in because dammit I am finishing this tonight and it will have all the things.

7. “Hey, where’s the trash can? I can’t find one.” *also mistakes a trashcan and a human being just sitting still. All the time* “Why not just litter then?” best friend asks, knowing exactly how I’ll respond. “I have manners!”

8. I hate traveling even a little by myself. My orientation and mobility skills with my cane aren’t that bad, but they’re not good enough for me to feel comfortable walking around by myself anywhere that isn’t super familiar with routes I already have practiced and memorized (school, close friend’s houses or apartments, the blocks in my neighborhood I’ve walked 500 times coming too and from school or walking dogs with my parents). Anywhere unfamiliar or wide/open or crowded or God Forbid, OUTSIDE is a source of terror and will not let my traveling companions leave me alone for longer than a few minutes and certainly not walk away on my own.

9. Will not go to bars because I present female and I am visibly disabled and that makes me look like an easy target and why would I risk that unnecessarily?

I’m gonna cut it off here. This is a long post, and I need to just finally go to bed. Goodnight. I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to send anons with commentary or reblog with commentary. I’d like to know that someone liked this.

[w-k-smith]

Once again, tumblr has hidden the version of this post that has links. (Clearly, weird fan fic where ghosts eat candy bars is just *too radical* for this website.) This story is also available on AO3, under the username w_k_smith.

Chapter Two is here of “Don’t Go to the Netherworld!”

In this chapter, Beetlejuice and Lydia make their way through Saturn, but are waylaid by Zagnuts, a boy band, and all the obstacles the desert otherworld has to offer.

Chapter One: “It’s a Wonderful Afterlife” (6/19/20) Chapter Two: “Worm Welcome” (07/03/20) Chapter Three: “Ghost to Ghost” (upcoming) Chapter Four: “To Beetle or not to Beetle?” (upcoming)

Warning:  This story contains depictions of, references to, and discussion of  topics like suicide, untimely death, abuse, and body horror - you know,  like the musical does (though this probably has more). Know your  boundaries, and stay safe.

New chapter under keep reading!

“I don’t understand,” Lydia said, as they crossed from the midnight  of the administrative area, toward the hot afternoon of Saturn, through  the twilight in between. “What’s Saturn? Are we going to the  planet…somehow?”

“Nope. Totally unrelated, and don’t ask me who  named it. Saturn is the part of the Netherworld that acts as a trap for  ghosts who get out of line, like if you try to leave the house you’re  haunting, or jump the line in processing like someone I could mention.  Going through processing would only take a couple steps, but Saturn is  an anti-shortcut from the feverish nightmares of M.C. Escher. It’s a  giant desert, and it’s full of sandworms. Those are snake monsters that  eat ghosts. Foreshadowing?” he muttered to himself.

“This is so weird,” Lydia muttered. “I love it.”

She didn’t seem like she was being sarcastic. Maybe hanging around her wasn’t going to be too terrible.

Unfortunately, he saw trouble ahead.

“Keep your head down,” he whispered to Lydia. “Look dead. Deader than that. And don’t sneeze! Dead people never sneeze!”

“What?”

“Hello, Beetlejuice,”  said five tenor voices in unison. A cluster of expressionless young  white men was drifting through the shadows toward him and Lydia. The  boys had died in their late teens and very early twenties, long enough  ago that two of them sported frosted tips. They were dressed just  differently enough to be distinguishable from one another, in dated  pants and t-shirts with no personality.

“Hey, Boy Inferno,” he grunted.

“What are you doing out here?” they asked. They all floated six inches off the ground, in a formation reminiscent of migrating ducks.

He rolled his eyes. “Just running an errand for Juno. Miss Argentina find that living intruder yet?”

“Not that we’ve heard. Who’s your friend?”

“New  hire. Juno wants her on border patrol. Her name’s Lydia, and she’s  boring. Kids these days, you know, they think eyeliner and TikTok counts  as personality. But them’s the rules: if you add to the work, you have  to help out.”

“Do you want to hear the introduction song, Lydia?”

Geez, they didn’t back off easy. “Save that for people who’ve committed genocide or worse.”

“We were talking to Lydia.”

At his elbow, Lydia scratched the end of her nose. Boy Inferno caught the gesture, and as one, cocked their heads.

“What did you die of…?” they asked her.

“Um,  I don’t want to talk about it,” Lydia said, which was the wrong thing.  All newlydeads ever wanted to do was blather on about how they’d bitten  it.

“OK, you got me!” He stepped between Lydia and the boys. “This  isn’t an approved mission to Saturn. We were actually trying to, ah,  hide out from Juno for a while. She is in a mood today, I tell ya. Just  impossible. She wants me to take a statement from all the recently  deceased who were in line when the alarm went off, and then pinch each  of them really, really hard to see if they still have nerve endings. I’d  rather swallow my own toenails. Remember that time Juno made me swallow  my own toenails? You were there for that, weren’t you? So be a  hive-minded pal and help me stay on the DL. This one already threatened to tattle if I didn’t show her my good hiding spot.” He jerked his head at Lydia.

Boy Inferno blinked.

“Alright, then,” they said, and each voice sounded suspicious. But they drifted back toward the administrative area.

Lydia stared as they went. “Who are those guys?”

“Boy  Inferno is a dead boy band. They didn’t have enough brains or  personality to be individuals when they were a living boy band, and when  their tour bus crashed, the situation got worse.”

“Yikes. And speaking of yikes, what were you saying about sandworms? Are they going to eat us?”

He  waggled one hand back and forth, and started walking. “Eh. It’s  probably OK. You’re alive, so they’ll leave you alone. I’m half-ghost,  half-demon, which confuses them more than anything. We’ll be fine if we  don’t run into a sandworm that’s pissed off or starving.” They were  crossing into Saturn proper. The terrain changed from dark gravel to  rolling sand dunes dotted with twisted rock formations. Wooden doors  hovered here and there, from three feet off the ground to 20 stories  high. There was the light and warmth of a yellow sun, but if you turned  in every direction, you would never see a sun or any other stars in the  royal blue sky.

“Huh. Now I kind of want to meet a sandworm...” Lydia said, looking around like one was going to pop out from behind a dune.

“Yup. That’s definitely foreshadowing.”

“So…what’s it like? Being half-demon? How does that, um, happen?”

He  waved his hands to turn them into sock puppets – one red and bearing a  vague resemblance to Juno, the other a grey blob and as good a  representation as he’d ever had of his father. “Hello, children!” he  said in a screechy voice. “Let’s talk about the occult birds and bees.  When a demon woman tolerates a living human male very much…”

She shoved him. “I know that, gross! I’m ace, but not completely ignorant. I just wondered if you were ever alive.”

He  put his hands back to normal. “Uh-huh. I was alive. Looooong time ago,  though. Long enough that we didn’t pay much attention to what year it  was, and only bathed twice a lifetime, and drank beer instead of water.  Hm. Or maybe that was all just me. Anyway, Juno only had me to see what  would happen if you mixed demon magic with ghost abilities. Turns out,  you get yours truly. She hated the result, and I never got any little  siblings to chase around. But it’s fine with the just the two of us; my  mom has this sweet thing she says to me every day: ‘I wish you had never  been born.’ I think it’s a Swedish pet name.”

“How did you die?” Lydia asked.

“I asked a bunch of annoying questions that weren’t any of my business and someone stabbed me.”

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned. “How far is it, anyway?” she asked, shading her eyes. “I don’t see anything…”

“Distance doesn’t really work like that here, and we could move way, way faster if we were both dead. But it’s pretty damn far.”

She sighed.

*

He  had to give Lydia Deetz this: she was a trooper. She was wearing a  dress, and boots that were very much not made for walking, but she kept  moving, eyes forward, not a single complaint. When her stomach growled  like an angry guard dog, she held her head high and acted like she  didn’t notice.

“OK, time for a break!” he said.

“No!” she said. “We have to keep going.”

“If  you keep going like this, you’re going to collapse, and then you’ll  die, and a sandworm will eat you, and that’s my whole day gone. Sit  down.”

“I don’t need to.”

She was going to give him grey  hairs, she really was. He shook one hand like he was shooing a fly, and  she stumbled backwards until she sat on the closest rock.

Lydia’s eyes bugged. “What am I – what are you –?”

“You’ve never been possessed before?”

She stood back up. He waved his hand again, and she sat.

“No, keep it up,” he said. “This is fun.”

He flicked his fingers, and her expression brightened.

“Beetlejuice, you’re my role model!” she said, in a tone much more chipper than any that had ever come out of her mouth, he was sure. He released her.

Lydia’s face soured like old milk mixed with lemon juice, and she made the fingers-down-the-throat gesture. “I’ll sit for five minutes. Don’t do that again.”

“I  always knew I’d make a great babysitter!” He settled on the other side  of the rock. He folded his hands over his stomach, figuring he’d take a  nap if she stayed quiet.

She didn’t. “My mom would love all this,”  Lydia said. “Her favorite holiday was Halloween. We’d make our own  haunted houses in the garage – but in the summer, when no one in the  neighborhood was expecting it. She liked the weird stuff in the world.  Or – she likes the weird stuff in the world. She doesn’t just avoid it, like most people do. Like my dad does. I think she’ll like you, even.”

He  wanted to make a face at the idea of a well-adjusted person liking him  (though it was a nice feeling, deep in his black heart), but Lydia  couldn’t see him, so it would be wasted effort.

She was quiet for a while, and he thought he was free to drift off to sleep.

“Um…do you have any food?” she asked.

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a handful of Zagnuts. He tossed the kid two. “Here ya go.”

“Why so many Zagnuts?” Lydia asked. “They’re good, but I didn’t think people ate these anymore.”

“It’s the only candy in the vending machines in the Netherworld.”

“Really? Why?”

“Because everything around here is at a baseline of low-grade crappiness. Haven’t you noticed?”

“Are  you really supposed to spend eternity here when you die?” she asked, in  a muffled way that told him she’d bitten off half a candy bar at once.  “It seems like it should either be a whole lot better or a whole lot  worse.”

“You aren’t supposed to spend eternity here; that’s the  point,” he said. He popped a Zagnut into his mouth, and swallowed it  wrapper and all. “You have to move on, eventually.”

“To what?”

“Do I look like a priest? Or a philosopher? Or a TV psychic?”

“The  last one, a little. A bad one. The kind who gets tricked by reporters  to help contact their dead kid, but it turns out the kid is really alive  and just in the next booth over in the Denny’s.”

“Touché. The  point is, nobody around here knows. You hang around the administrative  area until you’re ready to go into the miserable nothingness of the  Abyss, and then you swirl around in the Abyss until…I dunno, something  else happens. Maybe you just stay in the Abyss forever. I don’t plan on  finding out anytime soon.”

“Is that where my mom is?”

“Yup.  If she didn’t come running when you first came through the door, she’s  definitely gone through security. Don’t worry, though. You poke your  head into the Abyss and shout her name a few times, and she’ll come  right out.”

He lied easily. He always had.

“I’m just  surprised she hasn’t tried to contact us,” Lydia said. “I guess she must  be confused, because we moved and everything. My dad dragged me out to  Connecticut, away from New York and all our friends and family, to work  on this stupid gated community project he has in mind. And he took my  annoying life coach with us. She’s friendly and positive,  and keeps trying to make me fill out a star chart. I don’t know why he  thinks she’s helping me. It’s not like there aren’t actual therapists in  Connecticut. I don’t get it.”

He chewed another Zagnut for a  beat, waiting to see if she was making a joke. Then he broke the news.  “Your dad is boinking the life coach.”

“What?!” she said. She whirled around the rock to sit right next to him. “How can you know that?”

“Um, because I’m an adult with a brain.” He grabbed the top of his head and lifted his skull to show his grey matter.

“He isn’t…Dad’s not…” She slumped. “He’s totally sleeping with her.”

“Totally,” he agreed.

“How could he do that? Mom’s only been dead a few months. Well…when he sees Mom – if he just talks to her again – he’ll understand what an ass he’s been.”

“Uh-huh,” he said, non-committedly.

“How much farther do we have?” she asked.

“Long enough to aaaaaaalmost make you give up and collapse in despair.”

She groaned.

For  a second, he thought her groan was superhumanly long and loud, and he  prepared to be impressed. Then he noticed the ground was shaking.

“Looks like it’s our unlucky day!” he said. “Run!”

They  both got to their feet, and made it about five steps before the sand  exploded to their left. A sandworm rose from the earth, its  black-and-white stripes blurring into grey. At the peak of its jump, its  inner head came out of its mouth, eyes glaring, jaw snapping.

It dove back down toward them.

He  dodged one way, and Lydia dodged the other. The spray of sand blocked  out everything, and when it all cleared, the sandworm had risen from the  ground again, undulating in and out of the dunes. Lydia stood in place,  looking all around. But it was hard to know where to run when you were  being attacked by a sandworm.

The sandworm’s chomping heads came out of the ground an arm’s length from Lydia. She yelled, and punched it in the closest eye.

The  heads hissed and thrashed, knocking Lydia down. The sandworm dove down,  and the sand around them whirled and roiled, until he felt like he was  standing in boiling dirt.

When the sandworm rose again, it  accidentally scooped up Lydia. She showed a little more survival  instinct than she had before, and clung to the sandworm’s back.

“Knock it off!”  he heard her say. She nudged the sandworm with her left boot, and the  sandworm turned to the right. But it had had enough of its passenger,  and whipped its body to throw Lydia like a beanbag.

She shrieked as she fell through the air. He stretched his legs, about 20 feet, and caught her.

As  he dragged her back to the ground, he braced himself for another attack  by the sandworm. Maybe if he transformed into something big and scary,  showed some lionfish spines or extra limbs, the worm would leave them  alone. Getting swallowed would be no good. Not only did he usually try  to avoid getting eaten, but sandworms’ digested prey just wound up back in processing…after a wait of at least a decade or so.

The  sandworm jumped over their heads, dove into the ground, and kept going.  Its writhing body upset every dune it plowed through, but it didn’t  double back.

He wasn’t going to look a gift worm in the mouth.

“And don’t come back!” he yelled. “G’on, git! Git!”

Lydia jumped out of his arms. “That was awesome! I thought I was going to die, but it was awesome.”

He  was more tired than he’d been in a while. He was tired like Juno had  been screaming at him for hours. Also, there was a lot of sand in his  shoes. “You did OK But why the hell did you try to punch it in the  face?”

She didn’t look ashamed in the slightest. “I thought it  would be like avoiding a shark attack. That’s what the Discovery guy  said during Shark Week: punch the shark hard in the eye so it leaves you alone.”

“Since when has punching something made it leave you alone?” he asked. “That has never worked when I’ve tried it with people.”

“Because then the shark – or the sandworm – thinks you’re too much of a threat and it ignores you. I made it go away, didn’t I?’

“I  seriously doubt you’re what made it leave, Karate Kid. If a sandworm  had its multiple hearts set on eating us, it would take more than your  mechanical bull riding skills to dissuade it. I don’t know – I’m not so  sure it was all that interested in us.”

“If it wasn’t going for us, why did it come over here?”

“I said I don’t know! I’m not a sandworm scientist.”

“Your hair is changing color,” she said, pointing at his head.

“Can you blame me? I’m pretty pissed off right now.”

She brightened. “It changes color with your mood?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I touch it?”

He  grunted, and tilted his head. She patted some strands on the right side  of his head, which were dark green at the tips, but probably working  their way to red. The cocoon the caterpillar had made behind his ear  popped open, and a death’s-head hawkmoth shot into the air and planted  itself on Lydia’s nose.

“Augh!” she yelped, and fell right on her ass. He doubled over laughing while she tried to get back up with dignity.

“You’ve taken things too far this time, Beetlejuice!”

Once, just once, he’d like to go 48 hours without hearing those words shouted at him.

He turned to see Miss Argentina stomping up a sand dune, clipboard in hand, sash askew, which meant she was really really really upset.

“What have I done this time?” he asked, resigned.

“What have you done this  time?” Miss Argentina pointed at Lydia. “Let’s start with child  endangerment! And the fact that your disappearance has about given Juno  apoplexy.”

“Ah, she loves me.”

“No! She just knows  that if she hasn’t heard from you in twelve hours, it means you’re up to  something! And that means the rest of us suffer! I’m just glad she gave  me clearance to go to Saturn to look for your sorry, sagging ass, so at  least I was able shoo a sandworm away from some newlydeads. I have a  sneaking suspicion you bear some responsibility for that, too?”

“OK,  that is both not fair and completely true,” he said. “And I’ll have you  know I’m doing a good deed. I’m guiding this one around the  Netherworld.” He jerked his head at Lydia.

“And why, in the name of all that is sacred, would you consider that a good idea?”

“Um…”  He faltered. He may have been able to fudge a few details with Lydia,  but Miss Argentina had been around long enough to know how the Abyss  worked.

“Newlydeads…” Lydia said. “That must have been what attracted the sandworm. It wasn’t coming for us after all.”

“Why  did you drag newlydeads with you?” he asked, happy to change the  subject. “What, did you need help shouting at me? Anger backup singers?”

“Of  course not.” Miss Argentina frowned. “But – that’s a good idea.” She  clicked her pen, and scribbled on her clipboard. “I am actually writing  that down. If Boy Inferno is free…”

“Excuse me!” came a woman’s voice from the bottom on the dune. “I’m so sorry – could you wait just a minute?”

“It’s very hard to walk on sand!” came a sexy, nasal male voice from the same direction.

“These  newlydeads have a problem, you see,” said Miss Argentina, her voice  icy. But something was wrong – she wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was  fixed on Lydia. “Apparently, a living person used their Handbook without  permission.”

Lydia became interested in the horizon. “Huh. That’s weird.”

Miss Argentina jabbed a finger in Lydia’s face. “Oh, don’t even try that on me, living girl. I am not in the mood today.”

“Whoof! We made it.” The newlydead couple crested the dune…and he was smitten.

The  woman was white, a pretty blonde, in a green wrap dress and  suburban-mom-at-the-nice-grocery-store boots. Her companion was a  beautiful Desi man, with light brown skin and a lock of black hair  hanging over his forehead that he immediately wanted to run his fingers through.

“Oooooh…” he said. “Hello, sexy…”

Lydia looked at him with a scientific expression. “Which one?”

“The  Trader Joe’s guardian angels over here. Not that Miss A isn’t pretty  easy on the eyes herself, but she’s a friend of Ellen, know what I mean?  A patron of U-Haul. An adopter of shelter cats. Wrong tree, is what I’m  saying. But she loves me platonically.”

“She doesn’t,” Miss Argentina said.

The couple pushed past him and bent over Lydia.

“Oh, thank goodness!” the woman said.

“Lydia!” said the man. “I’m so glad we found you. We were worried sick!”

“Adam, Barbara?” Lydia said. “What…what are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to go to the Netherworld.”

[mcdynamite]

[Spoilers] I think GoT 8.05 made perfect sense, and here’s why:

 Hello people of Tumblr! I’ve seen a lot of people bashing the most recent episode of Game of Thrones for a number of reasons and I want to step up to the plate and go to bat for the show. To clarify, I dislike D&D as much as pretty much everyone else who watches the show. I think the writing has been lazy, the dialogue has been lacking, and the lead in to some of the things that have happened this season could definitely be better. But everything that happened in 8.05 makes sense, and I actually liked the episode. This is why.

Cersei’s Demise is kinda perfect.

I know a lot of us, myself included, were looking forward to a brutal, sadistic death for a brutal, sadistic woman. But here’s the thing... in its own way, it was a totally brutal way for her to go out. Think about it, Cersei has spent pretty much her entire life talking her way out of things, manipulating people, and in general feeling more powerful than everyone else around her, including her family. She died finally realizing that she was completely helpless and all hope was lost. She died knowing that her arrogance and often unnecessary brutality was what had cost herself, her children, the man she loves, and even her own father their lives. 

She couldn’t sass the collapsing rock to death. She couldn’t stall and wait for The Mountain to come to her aid. She couldn’t do anything but break down and cry and tell Jaime she wanted their baby to live, trapped in the same underground passages where she vowed to destroy all three of Dany’s dragons. Cersei wasn’t publicly executed in front of thousands of onlookers. She died UNDERGROUND, unthought of and uncared for by anyone else in the world but Jaime. She died the same death as all of the innocent citizens who died that day in part because of her own arrogance. It wasn’t special. It was lonely, hidden, and desperate - a fitting end for a woman who’s lived her whole life believing in her own importance.

And speaking of Cersei, even Jaime’s apparent regression makes some sense.

Ah, Jaime Lannister, one of the most emotionally complicated men in all of Westeros. I’m not gonna lie, this disappointed me because I had hoped for better for Jaime, but not because it didn’t make sense. We were ALL rooting for Jaime to ditch Cersei, become the noblest man in the whole world and just be with Brienne, who clearly loves him. But if you take a minute to think about it, while Jaime’s character development has been significant, it never really veered away from loving Cersei. 

He’s always been doing what’s best for her, and yes, that includes when he left her to head North. Jaime did that because humanity was in danger, and as such, Cersei was in danger. Barely over a season ago in 7.03, Jaime tells Olenna Tyrell that his love for Cersei has grown beyond his control. He openly admits it and tells Olenna that he doesn’t believe people will care how Cersei took the throne once they’re living in the world she built. He clearly still loves Cersei here, and while he’s tempering some of her most heinous ideas, like flaying Olenna alive, he’s still carrying out her orders. “For Cersei,” as he always says.

Jaime’s love for Cersei went far beyond his control. It was almost more like an addition than true love. His love for Brienne was pure and kind, but even the purest love can’t sway the grasp of an addition. Cersei was all Jaime had ever known, so even if he loved Brienne, even if he knew Cersei was hateful, even if he knew she was doing unspeakable things to the people of Westeros, it STILL makes sense that he went back. It’s legitimately not at all different from some abusive relationship in real life. One partner may realize that the other is abusive and hateful, but they can’t bring themselves to walk away, and when they do, they may go back. That doesn’t make them bad people, and it certainly doesn’t “undo” all of Jaime’s character development over the course of the series. 

Jaime Lannister is an immensely complicated character, and this is GAME OF THRONES we’re talking about. It’s a very human show. So frankly, if he has genuinely left Cersei without a second glance, that would have been immensely disappointing. It’s just not how people work, not after admitting how deep in the relationship he was literally just 9 episodes prior and only leaving to protect mankind from being destroyed.

And finally, let’s talk about the psychotic break of Daenerys Targaryen.

First, just a quick reminder at how utterly human this show is. We’ve got all sorts of realistic depictions of human nature in Game of Thrones. We have very real depictions of PTSD (looking at you, Theon and Sansa), realistic depictions of the horrors of slavery, realistic depictions of racism and ableism, the list goes on for miles. It’s made abundantly clear throughout the series that the Targaryens have a strong family history of mental illness, so here we go people. Let’s talk about mental illness.

Obviously, there are no therapists in Westeros to diagnose Dany with any particular illness, but it’s reasonable to hypothesize that Dany is experiencing psychosis, also known as a “psychotic break”. Something important to not about psychosis: it’s sort of like a break from reality, so the way someone behaves during a psychotic break is not at all who they normally are as a person. And here’s another thing about psychosis: YOU DO NOT SHOW SIGNS OF IT YOUR ENTIRE LIFE, especially not major ones. Not every person who commits a heinous act of violence grew up murdering small animals and saying sadistic things to family members and friends as a child. I’ve seen a lot of anti-Mad Queen Dany arguments online, and I’d like to debunk a few of them with regards to how mental illness often actually works.

1. Dany was an abused child, why would she hurt children?

Yikes, you guys. This is a really weak argument. Many studies have shown that childhood trauma is associated with greater disposition towards psychosis later in life. Obviously not everyone who has gone through a childhood trauma will experience psychosis, but it can actually be a direct contributing factor to a psychotic break.

2. Dany has always showed compassion to innocent people like the slaves across the sea, so why doesn’t she now?

Again, psychosis is not a direct reflection of who someone is as a person because it represents a break from reality. You don’t have to be an intrinsically horrible person to do something bad when you’re not in control.

3. The warning signs were there, but they were too weak to justify what happened to King’s Landing.

When a person experiences psychosis, the EARLY warning signs (let’s just say for the purposes of this argument are things that happened prior to the start of season 8) are often subtle or even unnoticeable until you’re looking back retrospectively. These can include things like spending more time alone than usual (check), suspiciousness or uneasiness with others (check), and having no feelings at all (check, remember when she ended things with Daario and the show made a big deal out of how she didn’t really feeling anything about it?).

The slightly later warning signs (so, this season) include strong and inappropriate emotions (check, she wants to have sex with her nephew not too long after she accused him of trying to steal her throne), social withdrawal (check), odd beliefs (check, her belief that she was sent by god to change the world), and suspiciousness (check). The warning signs were there and frankly exactly what one would expect to see in someone in the prodome (or very early stages) of psychosis.

4. It just happened so suddenly, the build up wasn’t enough.

Actually, it SUPER was enough. Recently, Dany has lost two dragons, her most trusted advisor, her best friend (who she watched be beheaded) and has arrived in a country where nobody likes or trusts her. All of these are pretty freaking traumatic, and a traumatic event can trigger psychosis. Boom. Bang. It makes sense.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand why people are upset about this. We were all rooting for Dany, our hero who walked out of the flames all those years ago with three baby dragons clinging to her. What happened in 8.05 was devastating to watch, but it wasn’t unrealistic. It was actually very well done from a standpoint of how things actually work in the real world. You can be frustrated with how things turned out, you can be devastated by the destruction of King’s Landing and Dany’s break, and you can be pissed about the lazy writing of this season, but you shouldn’t be angry with the show runners for Dany’s descent into madness. It was actually remarkably well done.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk. Valar morguhlis.

EDIT: Obviously not everyone who goes through a period of psychosis is violent. It is an INCREDIBLY small percentage who actually inflict harm on others during a psychotic break. With that being said, rare as it may be, it does happen, it is a real thing that happens in real life, and cases in which a violent outburst happens are pretty spot-on similar to the way it happened to Dany. As someone who has experienced psychosis myself, I of all people know that not everyone becomes violent. But the portrayal of Dany throughout the whole show does align with the prodome of an exceedingly rare, but real, type of psychosis. I’m sincerely sorry for not clarifying this in my original post 💙

[pansyaparkinson]

Under the cut is a formatted version of Pansy’s application, since Tumblr has decided to be mean (once again): 

OOC

Name: Karli

Age: 29

Pronouns: She/Her

Timezone: CST 

Writing Sample: Please provide a link to some writing. This does not have to be from a roleplay specifically, though it is preferred.

Ships: Pansy/Chemistry is ultimately the most important thing to me. I have this weird soft spot for Pansy/Goyle after some chemistry I had with a Goyle when I played Pansy in another rpg and I’ve shipped them ever since! But it’s not something I would need to have. Mostly, I’m excited to play her coming back to Britain and reconnecting with all the folks from her past! 

Anything else?: Pansy’s favorite color is red (despite the - ugh - Gryffindor colors!) and she often sports a crisp, pristine red lip that almost looks like blood. 

IC - Overview

Full name: Pansy Auria Parkinson (Delvaux) - Pansy managed to keep her surname under the pretenses of her career, having been known within her line as a Parkinson. She uses Parkinson for her professional and personal life - but will call herself a Delvaux if it helps her get ahead or in polite French company.

Age: 40 (31 December 1979) - Yes, she throws the most extravagant New Year’s Eve parties in celebration of her birthday. 

Gender: Cis-female (she/her)

Sexuality: Heterosexual. Pansy will be the first one to tell you that she likes cock. But only when that cock does whatever she wants. She’s not necessarily homophobic in the “normal” sense where she really cares who is fucking who - but she definitely makes homophobic jokes sometimes and, even if she loves you (looking at you, Draco!), you can’t escape her rolling her eyes a bit whenever the topic of sexuality comes up. She’s definitely going to hit you where it hurts if she’s angry. 

Blood status: Pureblood

Former Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Occupation: Designer for Twilfitt and Tatting's

The shoppe, Twilfiit and Tatting’s, has been owned by the Parkinsons for generations. The oldest son, Malcolm, Pansy’s father, had inherited the business from his father. Malcolm, however, had plans far greater than his father could have dreamed. While Twilfitt and Tatting’s location in Diagon Alley brought enough money in to sustain the family fortune, Malcolm wanted to expand.

Throughout Pansy’s childhood, he was in constant discussion with other businessmen to open new locations throughout various places in Europe. It took a lot of time away from his family, but tripled their income and made Twilfitt and Tatting’s the place to get high end robes, clothing, and accessories.

Pansy started scribbling designs for new outfits when she was young, but her father would not take them seriously until after graduation, when he finally allowed her visions to become a reality. The Auria line (named for Pansy’s middle name) became the fastest-selling line Twilfitt had ever seen.

But it wasn’t enough. While her father was never a Death Eater - much too busy being successful to follow a man with no fashion sense at all! - he did a lot of his business with people who were. As those wizards and witches were caught and sent to Azkaban for Voldemort-supporting acts after the war, Malcolm’s businesses began to fail.

The Parkinson’s were losing money fast at that time - something they’d mainly been able to keep from the public eye - and Pansy had to step up and find a rich man to marry in order to help the business stay afloat. Pansy’s mother, Cordelia, did not want to fall from grace like those Malfoy’s, after all.

Pansy did manage to do just that - find a man, save the company, and is now the leading designer within the multiple Twilfitt establishments. Her line is sleek and expensive, mainly geared towards fashionable and rich witches. (Link to some of the clothing will be posted below within the “extra” section). She’s very happy with her career… but it came at what costs?

Marital Status: Widowed.

Pansy met Armand Delvaux when she was just twenty-three years old on a trip to the shoppe in Paris, which had been doing rather well until the fall of Voldemort. On their last bit of finances, the ability to keep the fact that the Parkinsons were actually broke was becoming harder and harder to manage. Meeting Armand had been a gift from Merlin itself, it seemed. Rich he was, though not so handsome, he was forty-two years Pansy’s senior and had lost his original wife in an unfortunate potions accident when the woman was rather young.

Pansy had gotten to work quickly, making herself known as available (though not too available) and Armand had fallen for her even before her knees hit the ground. Honestly, those Gryffindors complaining about torture under the Carrows know nothing until they’ve stuck a wrinkly penis in their mouth to save the family. 

They were married within just four months of meeting one another, something his grown children (there are three of them, two daughters and a son - the middle one the same age as Pansy herself) were very vocal about not being in agreement with. While Pansy lived her life with her husband without loving him, she did love what he had to offer her. The funding for Twilfitt went back up - the Paris shoppe suddenly bloomed - and they were able to expand farther than even her father had expected.

The shoppe is now the leading brand for expensive, designer clothing with Pansy at its helm. When Armand died two years ago - rather young for wizards, but Armand had always been known to experiment with the tobacco he put in that pipe of his and his poor heart suffered - she inherited 85% of his money (despite more protests from her stepchildren, really they’ve been such a pain!). With that money, she purchased a rather loftily flat in England with a direct connection via floo to her estate in Paris. The last two years, she’s split her time between the two, but the excitement of France has recently died down and she’s been spending much more time with old friends in England.

Faceclaim: Katie McGrath (1st choice), Eva Green (2nd choice), Lucy Hale (younger) - I would prefer the Katie/Lucy match, as I feel like they have more similarities and also Katie’s supergirl resources and a few others are TOTALLY Pansy-esque 

Summary: A lot of Pansy’s life shortly after the war had been defined by that one moment in the Great Hall - and, really, how unfair was that! She’d only wanted to have her school stay undestroyed and her friends kept safe, after all. The Parkinsons had never chosen a side in the war, safe from any harm regardless of what happened given their pureblooded status. Pansy herself hardly thought about the war at all - and yet, she was being punished publicly for it. While there was no trial or prison for her - the backlash her old classmates gave her for trying to give Potter up to the Dark Lord was enough to make her bristle. That, combined with the Parkinson fortune dwindling, made Pansy run away to Paris to find a rich husband and start a new life. She settled with a man forty-two years older named Armand Delvaux and the failing business her family owned - Twilfitt and Tatting’s - began to thrive again with his money. Pansy herself found passion in fashion designing and her Auria brand is known as one of the leading brands in high-fashion clothing sales. While she spent most of her life after school travelling between Paris and London, she has decided to plant herself anew in the country of old friends and enemies again, now that her dear old husband has died. Many still think of her as that bitch from school and they aren’t wrong… but, cut her some slack, she’s grown up… a little bit. 

IC - In Depth

Discussion

I included a lot of this discussion above in places I felt they made most sense, but below is a discussion of various things I have yet to add:

-Pansy is not ashamed of what she did during the war because, quite honestly, she hardly did a thing. She was no Death Eater - there was no Azkaban for her. As far as anyone knows, Pansy is the same person as she always was… but maybe just a bit nicer. Of course, that’s a laugh! She’s playing nice because it’s what this new wobbly feelings world wants her to be. She’s still not going to hold hands with Weasley or tell Granger she’s pretty or something insane like that! She’s got standards. She just might not spike your drink with laxative potion for a laugh anymore… well, not much potion anyway. Potter can miss one day of work for her entertainment. 

-Pansy is ambitious. She’s a Slytherin for a reason, after all. She’s a designer (not a shoppe keeper, to anyone who may ask, thank you very much!) and values her work. She spends hours working on new pieces for her Auria line and won’t stop until it’s perfected. Some people think fashion is silly - but Pansy knows the truth. It’s an art form. Some wizards have just yet to discover it.

-Pansy is not nice. While she can play at it with a smile when she has to, she’s not above backhanded compliments and manipulation. She’s such a gossip and shouldn’t be trusted with any secret. Who’s dating who (or who’s fucking who, more like it) will be spread like Fiendfyre… whoops, don’t mention that word in front of poor Draco and Gregory… they get a bit sensitive. Pansy “forgot.” 

-Perhaps the most curious thing about Pansy is that she both cares and doesn’t care about what other people think about her. It’s why she’s so mean - it’s easier to be the one on top putting everyone else down than have it possibly happen to her. When someone brings up her betrayal of Potter before the final battle, Pansy pretends to easily shrug it off with a perfectly presented insult and a roll of the eyes. But, the truth is, there’s a reason she uses make up potions and wears nice clothes and keeps all the flyaways out of her hair… the better she looks, the less fodder everyone else has for the fire. 

-While there was no actual punishment for Pansy after the war, given she never fought for any side, the way those old classmates of hers viewed her after the stunt in the Great Hall was punishment enough. They looked down on her, something that brought up a whole lot of insecurity for her in a way she hated. It was enough to push her to France, agreeing to look after the shoppe there, and allowed her to settle into security with a husband she didn’t love.

-In fact, she did not love Armand at all - even for a second. While Armand was kind to her in some respects, he also very much underestimated her. Kept her out of the discussions when Twilfitt went into business with the Delvaux Company. She could play at her “little designs”, but could not truly take over the business, despite the fact that her line made the business the most money out of anything else they sold. In Armand’s mind, business was no place for a woman, something Pansy was unabashedly in disagreement with.

-Pureblood families - particularly families from higher society - have always stressed reproduction. While marriages are ideally full of love and children, creating an heir has always been the higher standard within the society that Pansy grew up in. She was supposed to get pregnant - supposed to have children and carry on the bloodline, despite any children she may have had not taking on the name Parkinson. That didn’t happen. In the end, it was discovered after trips to several different healers that Pansy could not, in fact, have biological children. Armand was alright with it, as he had three other children to carry on his name, including a son. Pansy could’ve considered adoption - she could’ve considered surrogacy. Instead, she decided that her life would be devoted to her career. She never truly liked children, anyway - just thought becoming a mother was what was expected of a young woman like her. In the end, she has found she feels very fulfilled. She’s usually very happy with her choice, but that doesn’t stop from the occasional pang of resentment and sadness whenever she sees old friends and acquaintances with their growing families. 

-Despite what many believe, Pansy does love her friends. Draco is an actual treasure! Even if she is mortified by the way she threw herself at a gay man once upon a time. She very much values his friendship and has spent many visits to England with him. Daphne, too, is practically her soulmate. Pansy adores the woman who has been friends with her since Hogwarts. While Daphne’s status from Spindrift Lane meant she was more easily manipulated, Pansy loves that in a friend. She’s always been Queen Bee, after all.

-But just because she loves you doesn’t mean you’re safe. She’s mean whenever she wants to be - nice whenever it serves her. She might order her friends around sometimes and give backhanded compliments (Oh, your skin finally doesn’t look washed out today in that outfit!), but if anyone else tried to do that to someone she cared for, they’d be in for a rude awakening. Just because she can be a bitch doesn’t mean just anyone can talk to her friends like that! Even her own attitude has died down in recent years, as she grew older and things didn’t matter nearly as much. But she’ll still pull out the claws whenever she has to.

-Pansy is mostly in disagreement with Hermione’s Cerberus program. While she agrees that magical people shouldn’t be just going off with Muggles and therefore the Statute of Secrecy is important, she definitely doesn’t like the idea of people trying to watch her all the time. In her eyes, it’s a very prejudiced program. Who are considered the “suspicious ones?” The Slytherins from the war. Even though Pansy herself did not fight in the battle or even pick a side, she knows how people view her. Just because she was a Slytherin doesn’t mean that she’s off experimenting with Dark Magic and absolutely despises how this program will make her and others like her look.

- Pansy isn’t surprised more shit has arrived on that doorstep, but just like in the last war - she has no interest in playing a part (yet).

Plots

-Pansy is back in England now, almost permanently. While she does still visit France periodically, this is the first time she’s been in her home country more often than the other since she was twenty three. Yes, she’s stayed in close contact with her friends… but how will everyone else handle the Ice Bitch being back? She may have grown a bit throughout her time, but would they know it?

-Party on NYE? Pansy’ll throw it, so long as you bring her a gift!

-We have a plethora of Gryffindors and Weasleys and other do-gooders from the war (I play one of them, after all!) on the dash and I wanted to bring in someone who is opposite of Harry and who will give me The fog hardly interests her. Where there’s Hogwarts, there’s trouble. Where there are Weasleys and Potters and all the Gryffindors, there’s trouble.various plots. I’m not against the tension and definitely don’t expect people to just be happy with Pansy, who is rather mean about 70% of the time. I’m all for those interpersonal tension-filled plots.

-While I say Pansy doesn’t want to be part of the war, what I mean is that she’s not ready for it. If this fog business becomes worse - what happens then? She’s an adult now and likely can’t just hide behind not choosing a side. I would love it if she gets sucked into helping, rather than hurting, and is forced to work alongside all these people who probably hate her. If the Order is reestablished, perhaps she can join and be an actual asset. She’s got money - but she also has intel. Just because her husband thought business was no place for a woman didn’t mean Pansy abided by it. She knows more about the people her dad used to do business with than anyone thinks she does. She can be useful to the Order. She doesn’t want Lord Voldemort to come back, after all. He really fucked things up last time! 

Extras

The link to Pansy’ pinterest is located below. It includes pictures of the faceclaims and her designs for Twilfitt. 

https://www.pinterest.ca/karliandtaylor/pansy-parkinson/

[hannah-writes]

The Semiotics of Roswell (aka why Malex is Endgame because the camera says so)

And we’re back with instalment #3 of The Semiotics of Roswell. 

Today’s focus is on episode 3 and, as always, screencaps are supposed to be in order but wonky upload is wonky. Considering this is such an epic episode, there’s so little Malex content that I’m wounded. So I’m likely going to ramble more to make up for it (edit: I did ramble to make up for it, I rambled so much over less than a minute of video that actually, I’m only including one video meta in this otherwise it’ll take you a week to scroll through it all. There’s less than five full minutes of Malex in this episode and I’ve written a dissertation about it, what is my life). I have, therefore, included the video meta within this one post! All the Malex, all in one place. You’re welcome :D. One video meta is included, the others are linked at the top, and at the bottom.

Image heavy, once again! Consider this your friendly neighbourhood warning! 

All my semiotic meta can be followed/tracked using the #Semiotics of Roswell tag, and is here on my Tumblr. This includes random other semiotic meta that comes at me when I see gif sets that isn’t directly related to this long-form meta essay I have made it my duty to write. Or something.

Part 1 / Reunion Kiss Video Meta / Part 2 / I Never Look Away Video Meta / Part 3 / Leaving so soon? Video Meta / This isn’t gonna work, Guerin Video Meta / 

So we all know that Liz and Max are not on the same page here, but their framing is increasingly romantic. They’re not only sharing a side of a screen here but they’re looking in mirroring directions. I think someone who has better photoshop skills than me could probably make the two of these images lay over one another and you’d find that their faces would likely almost meet in the middle because of how they’re framed here. Their eyelines are almost matching, too, though we know that Liz isn’t looking directly at Max.

The colour’s quite heavily saturated in yellow and we’ve touched briefly on colours before. Some of the emotions that are supposed to be stirred and signfied by the colour yellow are: obsession, insecurity and naivety. I’d argue that though obsession fits Max’s feelings towards Liz, the emotions that are at the fore of this saturated scene are insecurity and naivety, especially the latter considering he lets her experiment on him, test out the limits of his powers and gather data as a scientist. And, because it’s Liz, it doesn’t even cross his mind that she might be using this for something that isn’t curiosity, something that’s more nefarious. He’d never dream that she would use her science-y powers for anything that might hurt them! It’s Liz!

I want to touch a little on the below screenshot before going back to the side comparison. The framing here, the mis-en-scéne is so good. The set designers who pulled together Max’s home deserve very, very high praise.

In this one shot we see so much, and we learn so much about Max. He looks tiny in this shot which, for a guy like Nathan is impressive as he has a presence about him when he’s on screen. He looks small and uncertain and unsure, clutching at the back of his chair and using the chair and the desk and the couch as a defence, a barrier between him and Liz because she makes him vulnerable. 

But then if we look at the background, all those books? You can see first-editions of what look like old books (the brown-gold colouring), they’re haphazard, like he’s run out of shelving space and had to start stacking the ones he reads more often on top of others. He’s got some wooden figurines and artefacts, too, so he’s a collector of things, of knowledge. He’s a curator of stuff, we know that he’s smart, but in a different way to Michael and this glimpse into his world, we can see how differently. Michael is science and equations, Max is words, things. I’d kill to see a close up of the books that he’s got on the shelves; they won’t be there by accident. 

In the far right of the screen there’s a small square picture which looks like a lonely person, standing on the left-hand side of the image. A small picture of a lonely man - probably a lonely cowboy. The colours are relatively bland, there’s nothing there that truly draws the eye, even the small splashes of it (the leaves on the second shelf on the right, the green glass below, the newer colourful books underneath) aren’t quite enough to distract us from Max. Max’s desk is cluttered and busy with books, the lamp is pointed towards the desk and it’s easy to imagine him late at night on his laptop writing with just the desk light because he can’t move to turn the main light on, or reading with the pinprick light to help him focus on the words. Everything looks a little like disorganised chaos behind him and contributes to helping him look small and little under the weight of all the knowledge behind him - all the knowledge from the religious texts he’s read that tell him people like him die bloody - and the indomitable woman in front of him that made herself the centre of his universe the moment she came into his life and he’s helplessly orbited around her since then. 

So we can see that Max looks small, by contrast, the mid-shot of Liz (below) is relatively typical. They’re on either side of the screen again, she’s less well lit than Max, possibly a stylistic choice to reflect the fact that there’s definitely another agenda to what she’s doing, but Max won’t see it. He’s totally blinded by his feelings for Liz.  (Side note: I love how guilty he looks when Isobel catches them, like some part of him knows what he’s doing is stupid as all heck but It’s LIZ. He’s got about as much chance of saying no to her as the earth does of spontaneously yanking itself out of orbit)

In this scene, the wide shot of Max vs the mid shot of Liz shows us the power that Liz has right now; she takes up more of the frame. She’s confident and assured and hiding her own fear pretty well considering. (And the ‘your heart’s racing’ ‘it’s not beacuse I’m scared of you’ line makes my shipper heart sing you guys, it’s one of my favourite tropes)

Then we get introduced to one of the key Echo motifs (below), backlighting by the sun. The use of the sun beween them to lighten/darken a scene is a massive motif; we see the sun setting between their faces so many times and this motif is used here, too, but to a reverse effect. This is a moment of distance, Liz is going for cold, clinical detachment and Max - as always - is just focused on Liz because she’s his Person.

Malex time!

So, because there was both a lot and not enough Malex content in this episode I’ve combined the video metas into this one, and honestly, I am very pleased that I did. I shall never complain at the chance to watch Malex being cute and perfect.

Remember how we talked above about the yellow saturation highlighting Max’s naivety. Another emotion that can be created or encouraged by the use of the colour yellow is comfort, it can be used to create a sense of something being idyllic, and since it's slightly more into the pale orange of the spectrum I'd argue that this scene feels warm and happy and safe at the beginning, the wash of yellow-orange creating a visual haven that locks us in, it's close but it's not suffocating because it's soft. In contrast to the harsh, almost sepia colours of the first kiss in the trailer in the previous episode that became bright and washed out as they started stripping, this starts slow and intimate building and loving in a way that we don’t get to see from a queer storyline very often (as @chasingshhadows said in a meta).

The camera pans slowly and lovingly up Michael's body, the same way that Alex does for a full four seconds, a slow sweep that's close and intimate. We're not watching this happening at that moment: we're in it. We're in it with Michael and Alex and we're not an outsider. We don't see any facial expressions, but we don't need to, we come into the shot clearly mid-way through Alex having been mapping Michael's chest with his fingers and lips, since he's still moving and we don't see him stirring, so this is a mid-action shot. We're entering something private. What's also important here is the fact that it's a soft-focus on Michael's chest, a type of shot that's almost exclusively reserved for heterosexual sex scenes, where everything's slightly blurry around the edges.

0:04

We cut to a shot that allows us to see Michael's face. Instead of feeling voyeuristic, as previous shots have, this closeness - with Alex and Michael still technically on opposite sides of the frame - makes us feel part of it. Witnessing something special. The camera stays still and the soft, blurry focus of intimacy stays as Alex settles to the side.

Michael's more in focus, as much as ‘focus’ is a loosely defined term in this section. We're meant to be watching him, the play of emotions on his face, the way he brightens at the realisation that Alex stayed. We know from Word of God that this isn't the first time they've hooked up since the previous episode, but Michael's reaction at 0:11 You stayed tells us that this is the first time he's woken up with Alex beside him. It's important that we stay tightly focused on Michael there, so we can see his face (and Vlamis' best acting is done opposite Tyler, in my opinion, the subtleties that he can evoke are heartwrenching).

We get a good eleven seconds just getting to soak in the intimacy of this early morning shot before we start moving onto something more distant, though we're not broken out of the moment.

0:12 We cut to a mid-shot, looking down on the two of them but they're still framed tightly; the bed, the pillows, the weird ugly decor on the edge of the airstream (Michael, really) are all we can see. We can see here that Michael isn't used to sharing a bed because the airstream bunk is tiny and he's laying on his back. Alex's pillow is hanging half off the bed and he's on his side, and you can tell from where the cabinet above them ends, he's pretty much on the very *very* edge of the mattress.

0:15 that's why you stayed?

Again we swing back into what I'm calling 'heteroframing' here, which is tight, close, intimate shots of two men completely in love here. Michael's soft voice, the way Alex reaches for him, they don't shy away from the intimacy of the moment, the sexiness of it. The kind of lazy, early-morning, sleepy touches that would probably lead to something equally lazy and intimate if not for stupid Isobel interrupting the moment but I'm getting ahead of myself.

We move from a side shot - of Alex's back - to a hovering shot of their faces and arms. 0:22 has the shot that launched a thousand ships; Michael's mouth chasing Alex's thumb, breathing in the touch against his skin. (Non visual meta but, Michael's quite obviously affection starved; from having been in abusive home after abusive home and never finding somewhere that he felt safe, never having that comfort, a part of Michael will always melt like butter when someone touches him like he's worthy. The way his mouth opens, not necessarily to bite but just to feel, the way he breathes out softly, a puff of breath against Alex's skin. The way he just leans down like he's being pulled towards Alex... So SOFT)

This all happens in a matter of seconds, I might add, between 0:22 and 0:29 we get the thumb casing, the leg touching, Michael kissing his way up Alex's collarbone and then the beeping of a horn. Thirty seconds of intimacy, we get, thirty seconds, and it's packed with love and care and tenderness and power. The camera never wavers, but more on that in a second.

Over this particular section, from 0:21 - 0:26, the line "I know it's time to face my fears" is played. It's played over Alex reaching out to touch Michael (important, because Alex is the more reticent one of the two of them; he's never stayed before, we've had a hint of the antagonistic relationship and the aggressive-passionate kiss from the previous episode, the bite from the pilot followed by the desperate-passionate kiss at the reunion, we don't have a frame of reference right now that tells us this is anything more than sex until this scene. Until right here. Until this audio cue that tells us that Alex is afraid. That he has to face his fears because he’s the focus of that moment; it’s him reaching out to Michael, even though we’re looking at Michael, it’s Alex’s legs that Michael’s touching). This is followed by that shot of Alex's leg, neat suture marks and Michael's hand slowly trailing down it. We see Michael's scarring in line with Alex's, we see the tender way his hand slides down his skin in a lover's caress and the camera doesn't cut away from it. We get to see what this moment means by the fact that we're watching it, we're focused on it.

It leads us to believe that we're seeing Alex overcoming his fear of letting people touch his leg, the easy assumption to make when we see it so starkly laid out. It's also easy to draw - using knowledge from later - the parallel of Alex's scar and Michael's both having been as a byproduct of Jesse Manes, indirectly and directly. That moment of connection is something deeper on a rewatch because Michael's scars and Alex's are the same; they're both a permanent reminder of what lengths Jesse Manes went to. They're both a reminder of how dangerous it is for them, or how dangerous it was.

0:28 The camera is in tight, we're sweeping up and hovering just behind Michael as he kisses his way up Alex, clearly going in for a proper kiss when there's the sound of a horn beeping. The camera allows us to see the surprise on Alex's face just before it pulls out.

0:30 The moment's broken. Over the next four seconds, the camera pulls backwards quickly, breaking the spell of the moment. The lighting brightens up and we're snapped out of the intimacy and thrown into two rapidly differing emotions; Alex's panic is shown in the rapid way he throws himself forward but Michael sort of rocks up and then back, almost amused by the interruption and Alex's reaction "woah, relax man" we're focused on Alex again - fitting since the face my fears comment was also definitely about him "it's just Isobel". The camera's frenetic here, rocking in an unnerving way rather than in the same, steady, curious way that the camera had been moving literally ten seconds before.

Alex is sat on the edge of the bed, more centrally framed than we're used to seeing him in this context but there's nothing in the background that's in focus, so we still can't really look at anything other than him as he asks "wait, does she know about us?" allows the audience to see that actually, the fear wasn't at all about his leg, the fear is of other people. It's easy at this point - without the knowledge of later on even in this episode - to think that Alex is ashamed. Michael's dialogue could even support that.  We don't move away from Alex' s face or reactions for a good six seconds, watching the panic and discomfort play over his features, the reaction to Isobel's presence and how quickly he's drawn away is a sharp contrast to the sleepy intimacy of a few moments before. Alex is lit in a harsh, white-yellow which is contrasted with the shadowed, darker lighting of Michael. This is partly to do with the light coming in though the windows, and the natural formation of shadows within a confined area but it can also be read as another visual clue as to how contradictory their current positions are.

0:42-0:46 "Would it be so bad if she did?" (CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW HIS VOICE RIGHT THERE DOES THINGS TO MY GAY-ACE SELF?)

"Yeah."

We get a very quick back and forth between Alex and Michael's faces - Michael, Alex, Michael. The shots are framed similarly, though Michael's is slightly tighter, but that isn't unusual for quick-fire dialogue where the characters can't be in the frame. The speed at which it cuts, though, heightens the tension of the scene, a rapid cut-cut-cut keeps the audience on the back foot, switching rapidly in a visual back and forth, similar to the lines.

At 0:44, you can see Michael shutting down, the realisation that Alex doesn't want them to be 'out'. I mentioned earlier that it's easy for the audience to assume that Alex is ashamed, and as Michael looks out of the window you can see him making a decision to protect Alex, protect his privacy even though it physically hurts.

Whereas before, when Isobel's beeping horn ruptured their moment and the camera pulled backwards rapidly, at 0:48 we have a sharp cut to a wide shot, moments after Michael's made his decision to go outside without Alex, to protect their secret. The interior is very dark - something that could, or should, have been fixed by some interior lighting to help us but fuck this show and it's moody lighting so much - and once again we're shown Michael and Alex squashed together on one side of the frame. I wish the scene was brighter so we could get a chance to see the interior; Michael's airstream has probably been put together just as thoughtfully as Max's but we don't get to see it.

I read this - personally - as a way of differentiating between Max and Michael, another way anyway. Max is a damn open book. He has so few secrets, he wears his heart on his sleeve, he's open and honest and with Liz there's nothing held back. So as an audience we get to see his world, a proper, sustained glimpse into his world. We get to see the books and papers that are important to him, we get to see how he organises his space. The first proper shot we get of Michael's airstream where we're not focused on Malex is dark and unclear. We can see that he's got paper on the windows, that the whole thing is claustrophobic and tight and small (but what does he need space for, he's always alone, right?). I've only ever been inside one caravan before in my life so I have very little frame of reference to even guess what's on the right hand side of the image at 0:48, cupboards? A cooker? Microwave? God knows. Directly opposite them, a bathroom? (Ps. If anyone knows what the general inside of an airstream is like please message me. I need to know for ~reasons.) Michael’s world, though, remains largely a mystery to us.

Though there are arguments that could say that it's not as well represented later on, at 0:49 you can see Alex slipping his sock on over his stump, and just behind his foot you can see his prosthetic (I think, stupid moody lighting), a move that's highlighting, not hiding Alex's disability. It also normalises it, as the camera doesn't linger or focus on it, we're not drawn to staring at Alex as he struggles, it's a normal part of 'getting dressed'. If that is, indeed, his prosthetic lurking in the shadows of the shot, it also speaks to Michael as a partner, because even if Alex was the one to take it off, there's every chance that Michael was the one that leaned over and put down. Stood it up somewhere within reaching distance. Ahem. Headcanon of Michael as the Most Attentive Lover aside, the normalisation of Alex's disability in this shot is awesome.

We're also seeing them sharing the same side of the screen, whenever they are, they look small and close, their positions relative to each other highlighted against a larger backdrop. Here, however, the closeness of the airstream, the narrow and cluttered frame actually highlights their distance, not physical, not yet, but emotional. Michael's pulled away because he's been hurt and Alex is in panic mode. It's interesting watching it back with the benefit of having seen 1x06 and knowing that Alex's fear of discovery isn't because he's gay but because the last time someone caught them together, Michael was beaten with a hammer. At this point, though, all we have are conclusions to be drawn hastily from Alex's reaction and they aren't necessarily good ones.

0:50 "Guerin-" "Nah-"

We focus on Alex again here, the camera still rocks, the restless energy of the two men in the frame being echoed in the way that the camera moves. There's no lyrics undercutting this scene, just a really nice piece of original score but it's low pitched and has a subtle beat, a subtle pulse which lifts to a crescendo.

0:51 "-don't worry about it."

Moving to a shot that's focused on Michael, that pushes Alex almost out of it, we see him getting to his feet and physically creating distance and space between them, forced nonchalance as he tries to brush off just how much it hurts that Alex doesn't want his sister to know about them.

The final shot of this section comes at 0:54, where we're focused on watching Alex watching Michael leave. 

Interestingly, looking back at the interactions so far, it hasn't been just Alex that's walked away:

Pilot - Michael walks past into the trailer and shuts the door on Alex Pilot - Michael goes to move away from Alex, is stopped, they banter, Michael leaves (also comes back again for the Kiss but.) 1x02 - Alex leaves because the conversation is over ("we're not supposed to build on Santa's workshop either") 1x02 - Alex doesn't leave, he heads into the airstream and Michael follows

Then we have this here, where Michael walks out of the airstream to confront Isobel, the implication is that Alex has snuck out (the surprise in 'you stayed' being clear enough of an indicator for that), but we haven't physically seen Alex having a tendency to walk away. If anything, we've seen him have a tendency to seek Michael out, as only one of their interactions so far out of six has had Michael actively seeking Alex, which is at the party for that beautiful kiss scene we all could write songs about.

So the next two snippets of Malex from this episode have been put into new posts, to save your brains. 

Drive-In Video Meta 1

Drive-In Video Meta 2

[Tagging by request: @space-malex, @istilfeelicantrustyou, @ineverthoughtiwouldneedasideblog, @callieramics, @lire-casander, @i-never-look-away, @stydiaeverafter, @tasyfa, @lovecolibri, @saadiestuff, @signoraviolettavalery, @ubiestcaelum, @el-gilliath - if you want to be tagged in future semiotics posts, let me know!]

[kae-karo]

marianas trench: phantoms

the absurd album overanalysis, commentary, and ranking nobody asked for

first, my personal ranking (don’t get me wrong tho i love the entire damn album):

1. wish you were here 1. don’t miss me 1. the death of me 2. your ghost 2. the killing kind 3. only the lonely survive 3. echoes of you 4. glimmer 4. i knew you when 4. eleonora

the album as a whole: oh such an awesome story and so awesomely inspired by the horror genres?? i think some of the non-singles hit the horror mark better but like oh my god it’s such a cool vibe the whole entire thing???? i know the concept was like,,,,,,descent into madness but you can totally feel this struggle with it and with the idea of a doomed/dead relationship, it’s just so so well done??? my one complaint is that i’m not musically inclined enough to recognize where all the references are bc unlike in no place like home and dearly departed, there aren’t really as many lyric references to other albums/songs, it’s more the music. and i know it well enough to go ‘oh that’s familiar, for sure’ but i can’t for the life of me figure out where from (in most cases)

eleonora: i mean the title is based on the short story by edgar allan poe (x) true to theme from the beginning, which (long story short) is about a woman the narrator falls in love with (well, his cousin) but she’s ill and will die, blah blah blah she does and the narrator vows never to marry anyone else but later he does and his first love comes back from beyond the grave to give her blessing for the new marriage - already basically i’m getting vibes of like,,,,,,a genuine desire to move on? which is great imo and like a step forward from previous albums? plus the whole acapella delivery is super reminiscent of so it goes (x) and the layered voices reminiscent of the intro to end of an era (x). plus we have the direct ref to the raven (x) by poe with ‘midnight dreary’. also the idea of ‘don’t hush’ which is later touched on as ‘just hush’ in the killing kind? oof interesting v v interesting

only the lonely survive: a bop a massive bop but! also! just a very intriguing take (at least to me) on a doomed-to-fail relationship, the idea that you can actively acknowledge a relationship is hurting both parties but...choose to stay. i also like the idea (which i might just be extrapolating) that to truly live, to have a really poignant relationship, you have to sort of give yourself over to it? ‘only the lonely survive’ - only those who isolate themselves truly ‘get out alive’ if you will but like, that’s the beauty of putting yourself out there? is like, you truly feel everything, i guess. ‘it hurts like hell to love this well’ sort of touches on that same idea for me. anyway the whole thing goes hard as hell and i love it. ‘he’ll never know you / not the way that i knew you’ we love intra-album references !!!

echoes of you: okay didn’t love this at first bc it felt repetitive (and it was coming on the heels of only the lonely survive which i adored) but it also felt really unique and a little different? when the released it as a single, it’s the first time i thought of this album as truly horror-inspired and totally picked up on the tell-tale heart vibe (x) which was just so interesting, i love how stories like that have turned into these really fresh songs that still call back to these kinds of madness-inspiring stories - that a love can inspire that kind of madness, even when it’s gone. i also wonder if the idea of ‘can’t stop myself from falling now’ has less to do with falling in love (which is, for me, the immediate connotation) and more to do with ‘falling into madness’. the verses and the tempo are so well-paced as well, like this frantic feeling? then the chorus comes in with this suspenseful set of chords? and the theremin in the background!!!! the best way to give a truly Spooky™ vibe. the idea of tell-tale heart, the story, too, is that the narrator is trying to sound completely sane, and explain the murder they’ve committed and why it was justified - that goes along with the theme of this album, too, where there’s this undercurrent of trying to insist that the doomed relationship is somehow justifiable

don’t miss me?: oh i adore this and the idea of ‘oh hah yeah no i don’t miss you like at all,,,,,,,,,,,,,do you ‘not miss me’ too?’ and like this,,,,,,not obsession but the idea of trying to actively move past missing someone? but just constantly getting caught up on it? unrelated to the meaning but oh my god the little background vocals, adore it. ‘some people try to raise the dead / some people try to live instead’ is like. that’s one of those things that i lowkey would love to get tattooed on my body or something. just really good words, because that’s what it’s like moving on from a rough relationship - and it’s hard to like, see that when you’re in the thick of it? bc like imagine losing a loved one and trying to bring them back to life - we’ve all heard the story, it’s never what’s expected, it’s never quite right and the same goes for relationships. and so, the idea of living instead, of moving on. also the vocal run up to the high note toward the end (x - look idk Music Words) reminds me of something but i can’t quite place it. also ‘i don’t remember why we stayed’ and then in wish you were here, we get ‘i don’t recall now why we’re buried’ which is a fun contradiction

wish you were here: that middle-of-the-night madness that goes alongside one love (x) like,,,,,if you took it one step on the other side of madness and entertained the idea of reviving a relationship that should be dead. except it’s such a bop unlike one love, like it sounds a lot like it could be on astoria, and it’s got that back beat matching this means war (x) in fact, it feels like the exact polar opposite of this means war (like...instead of ‘lmao i’m totally awesome without you’ it’s like ‘i’m,,,,,maybe not doing so great without you, shit i really wish you were here, wish we were together’)? but with the same sort of vibe in terms of the music itself? and the outro (x) reminds me hardcore of something else i can’t quite place

your ghost: this one also reminds me a lot of the general vibe of astoria with hints of like. modern touches? this one reminds me a lot of wildfire actually? (x) but a bit more upbeat? like that guitar style i think is what does it. it feels a lot like there’s this...almost unwilling pull toward the idea of ‘madness’ that they’re focused on, like....a sort of awareness of the descent? also the softer bit toward the end where it’s just josh and the guitar (x) reminds me a lot of something that i once again cannot place for the life of me

glimmer: oh no,,,,,,,,,okay first this (it’s just audio but tumblr won’t let me add audio on its own in a post like this):

so my first and most important comment is that all i can think about when i hear this song is ‘halo by beyonce halo by beyonce halo by beyonce halo by beyonce’ and it tends to run over everything else lmao. but! i think conceptually it’s more of that descent into madness, into seeing some sort of trace of a relationship, like some sort of residual glimmer that sticks to things, to people. ‘it’s funny what you find when you go without’, like the idea of....probably hallucinating in a sense, but starting to see the relationship/the other person everywhere, on everything, when you’re missing them? even to the point that, when the person comes back, maybe the memories of that relationship stick around too - ‘you’ve changed but it’s not enough / and doubt is insidious / creeps up on you softly / i can’t get it off me, i can’t get it off me now’ like this idea that even though it’s something wanted, to come back together (no matter how bad it might end up), memories and the past can’t really be forgotten - ‘you’ve changed but it’s not enough’ - very reminiscent of wildfire (x - ‘so now you show up when you’re alone again / but we haven’t changed, but now you’re interested) ngl too the overall feeling of the song reminds me of one love? (x)

i knew you when: so this song sorta came out of nowhere to me, like it felt weird and off-kilter like...i knew you when? when what? but like. now it makes a lot more sense, in this sort of...well, twisted way. it feels like things have been twisted around. it comes off the back of glimmer, too, and i think that’s like - oh, these memories are here, lingering, and this is almost a deep-dive into them? it tells a bit of a story and i think it’s less abstract, but it definitely harps hard on the idea that ‘i’ve been loving, loving you too long to just sudden-suddenly move on from this’ that sort of encompasses the entire album really cleanly. it’s interesting, actually, it almost feels like a very sincere moment of clarity and specificity amidst a mess of this drifting toward ‘madness’, but still hinting at that little bit of ‘okay but if you want to....i’ll know you then’, this like concession to that madness, an indulgence in it? 

the death of me: oh catch me melting over the transition between songs, utterly seamless. love it. this one is another one that like....feels like a breath of clarity in awareness? like this acknowledgment that there’s something off, this lingering desire for someone from the past, that there’s an emptiness, that this new thing isn’t right, even if it’s something wanted. because other wanted things (or people) make it impossible. i think it’s also the first time in a while where another party (ie not them nor the person they’ve got this tangled relationship with throughout the album so far) is mentioned which is v interesting. i think this track does an excellent job of bringing a ghostly vibe to it, the echoing vocals and background sounds, they almost elicit this feeling of like. the person is drifting away from the person they’re trying to make a new start with, like literally drifting? almost being pulled in by the ‘madness’? and it’s a heartbreaking song, too, bc there’s this emanating desperation to like...move on? and make things work? but this acknowledgement that...maybe that’s not happening? maybe it’s not possible? maybe there’s too much baggage, in a sense? there’s also that very long outro that starts off a little intriguing, adventurous almost, and then descends into this frightening crescendo (x - that also has a hint of something else in it) before these voices come in, crescendoeing again into this sudden stop and then you’ve got josh saying ‘save me from myself’ which i feel like is a reference?????? also cannot believe they made me download that and reverse it so i could figure that out lmao

the killing kind: it wouldn’t be a mt album without a song that’s all over the place and somehow still cohesive and intriguing, huh? oh big mood for the intro, with the very great imagery of wandering a haunted house at night, staring into the shadows, and then ‘the killing kind’ - i think the whole thing is a super interesting concept, again, this acceptance of some of the fault in a failed relationship? ‘but you’ve been haunted too’ and yet not all of it, i think a lot of media represents things as black and white, with all the blame on one person, when that’s rarely the case? anyway, it’s interesting it’s addressed. ‘nevermore’ of course being another edgar allan poe reference (disclaimer there may be other references i’m missing since i’m not massively well-read in the horror genre) i’m also intrigued by ‘can’t get out / from under it / nevermore to leave here’, is that a lover dearest (x) reference? bc that’s what came to mind, honestly. again, excellent with the background vocals giving that eerie vibe. and then the stephen king ‘it’ reference with ‘we all float down here’. ngl that one feels a little forced but again, i’m like. not well-read in the horror genre so there may be more layers to that one than i know. ‘it gazes back / sings to me / i know my love can be the killing kind’ - i think this is interesting that it sings back, that feels very much like a callback that maybe their own previous songs are hinting at the love being ‘the killing kind’. also ‘you should never be here’ makes me think of something (x) the hard guitar/violins in the background during ‘here and now / this is it’ etc remind me of something else. and then ofc we have the astoria run/vocals (x) and then the ref to echoes of you (although it sounds like the slightest pitch lower than in echoes of you?) and then the whole bit with ‘don’t love the bottle’ i swear on my life it sounds like it comes from somewhere? same with the background melody? but i have no idea where, it just sounds like a reference. and then we have the background little melody (x) after he says ‘a hidden melody’ so it’s like reinforced that it’s a reference but idk where from rip lmao. edit: ty to the lovely anon who mentioned it’s from masterpiece theater!!!!! and once again a++++ use of a theremin in the background for max spooky vibes. also ‘evermore’ is totally a reference to ever after (x) along with the little lift after that (i assume) and then the whole acapella bit calls back to eleonora and the ‘now’ bit to something (x) plus the ‘hear me now’ from something wow i’m great at this game lmao as well as the ‘don’t you hear me’ part. ‘we could be together here / forever we’re together bound in madness’ i think again a lover dearest and then ofc we have the vocal runs from something (x) and then the strong background violin from another thing (yeah yeah i know they’re all references i just don’t know what from) and then he says ‘just hush eleonora’ which, as previously mentioned, is a very intriguing development from ‘don’t hush’ like this,,,,,,acceptance of the madness? and then ofc he says ‘eleonoria’ in ref to astoria. edit: also the whole ending is so so similar to the ending of ever after