#AWW HE TOOK HAROLDS LAST NAME

[hue-makes-burgers]

so people call billy billy HUTCHINS ???

[mr-walkingrainbow]

battle for abimel? i want a power showdown.

BATTLE FIGHT WITH POWER SHUT DOWN HERE WE GO!!

Basically OverWitch + I guess the rest of the charmed ones, face the new demon of the day, the Cancellor, which nullifies any power thrown at them.

They have to really think hard to figure this one out.

But like, mainly gay OverWitch.

“Ugh,” Macy groaned audibly for the fourth time in the past two minutes, “What’s taking her so long!”

“Ok could you tone down the whine today?” Mel replied exasperatingly, “It’s not like Abby lives next door. And she can’t orb like Harry. It takes time to get here.”

“Yeah and by the time she does the DotD will be long gone!” She stated in annoyance.

Maggie rolled her eyes, “I think the demon of the day can wait for a few minutes. I doubt their in a rush for a Appointment at the nail salon.”

The eldest huffed, “Yeah but Abbys just taking forever!”

“You rang?”

Everyone turned to the source of the voice, which oddly, seemed to be nix.

But more understandingly, smoke started to swirl, practically a mini tornado, until it took the form of Mels beloved.

“Abby!” The Latina cheered, running over and giving her girlfriend a hug.

“Hello lovely,” Abigael grinned, before smirking in Macy’s direction, “Now what’s this about me being slow? Shall I remind you how long it took you and Witchbanger to actually bang?”

Macy made a squawk of protest, while Harry looked on in mute surprise.

“Witchbangers new.” He commented, although Mel couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or curious.

Abby gestured towards him with a flourish, then nodded towards Macy, “Well, this pile of nerves is Whitebanger, only fitting we have the other half.”

Harry seemed to nod in numb acceptance, before turning back to the gadget in his hands.

“Now that we’re all here, I introduce, the Cancellor !” He waved his arms dramatically for the reveal, the gadget projecting a hologram of a dark woman in a white suit.

Maggie stared blankly, “the counselor?”

Harry looked a bit miffed, “No, the Cancellor.”

Macy tilted her head, “The chancellor?”

“NO, lovely, the CANCELLOR.”

Mel narrowed her eyes, “Cancer?”

Harry gasped for breath, “-wha- how?? It’s the CAN-CELL-OR.”

Abigael smirked, snickering lightly, “Oh Harold, why didn’t you just say so?”

Everyone offered nods of agreement while Harry sputtered for words.

Macy graciously took this time to step forward.

“As my dear was beginning to, ahem, say?” She broke off to give the sputtering whitelighter a concerned look, “This is apparently, in fact, the Cancellor. They have the power to nullify or ‘Cancel’ any powers used against it.”

“Oh but who needs powers when your in the middle of fighting a bloodthirsty demon!” Abby snarked typically.

Mel would normally scold her for such a comment, but found herself cracking a smile at the humor of it.

Macy looked annoyed, but shrugged it off, “As I was saying, something good to note, the Cancellor takes the form of whatever it nullified last, so it might not look like this. That’s just the last recorded form.”

She gestured to the regal woman in white. To which Abby purred delightfully.

“At least it’s last participant knew how to dress well.”

Mel shot her a glare, giving her a slap to the arm.

“What?!” The Britt squeaked. She just rolled her eyes in response.

“Aww,” Abby cooed, wrapping her arms around Mels smaller frame, “Is someone jealous of a power taking, identity stealing demon of the day?”

The Latina grumbled a bit, embarrassed of the blush that had indeed made its way across her face.

“No.”

“Oh I think you are.” The later whispered, “But don’t worry my love, no matter how amazingly dressed someone is, they cant even manage to come close to your overall beauty.”

Mel blushed again, this time for an entirely different reason. And a bit bashfully, she turned and gave Abby a chaste kiss.

“I hate you.” She stated grumpily.

“Love you too grumpy.”

“Ladies,” everyone turned to harry, who had finally recuperated, holding an Orb, “Will you generously accompany me to fight a fashionable identity stealer?”

“Oh Harold,” Abby sashayed forward dramatically, “I thought you’d never ask!”

Macy growled jealously while Mel shared a secret laugh with Maggie. The two of them had slowly found Abbys wit more humorous then insulting.

Harry threw the orb, the Group proceeding to jump through it into a wide circular stone covered room.

“Where are we?” Maggie questioned, peering around, their seemingly was only one entrance, a small archway carved into the surrounding rock. Leading into another room.

“We’re in the Cancellors Lair, that ark leads to the cancellor.” Harry answered informatively.

Mel was confused, however, “If so, how do people get in?”

“I think I have the answer to that.”

Everyone turned to Macy, who was staring at the ceiling. They followed pursuit, only to find their room was not really a room, but the bottom of a very deep pit.

“What a treacherous trap.” Abby seethed respectively, if possible, “Some loner demon falls down the pit. And if they survive. The Cancellor can steal their powers and harvest their body.”

“No… no that can’t be?” The youngest stated sadly, ever the empath, “Some have to escape. What about the innocent humans who fall?”

“I guess some could escape,” Abigael reasoned blatantly. If they realized where they were before the Cancellor found them. They would have to have some type of powers that could propel them upwards, like smoke phasing. Because no lucky Jim could climb these walls. Their smooth as stone.”

She wasn’t wrong, Mel found herself absentmindedly feeling the slick walls with her hand.

Someone tapped her shoulder, and she turned to see her girlfriend smiling at her bashully, and hand held out.

“Head in the Clouds my love?”

“Yeah,” the Latina grinned, taking the britts hand, “Thanks for always finding me.”

“Oh why of course!” The hybrid proclaimed, “What else is a loving girlfriend supposed to do?”

“Oh you know, fight demons, slay monsters, make out from time to time.” She monologued coyly.

-“while I’d love to hear this agonizing conversation,” Macy interrupted, “We have a demon destroy.”

Both of them rolled their eyes, but gladly shared secret smiles.

The ragtag group of magical beings entered the room. Nearly immersed in pitch darkness.

Mel felt Abby take her hand, and she tried to send soothing vibes, squeezing it to show she understood.

Abigael wasn’t a fan of the dark, it wasn’t cause she was afraid of it specifically, moreover, it reminded her of being locked in the crate. And mentioned it made her feel quite claustrophobic.

A lot of her fears spiraled from the singular subject of her childhood. It didn’t make them any less valid, however.

“Macy.” Mel whispered in the dark, “A light please?”

“Since when are you afraid of- oh.”

Her sister caught on, a tad second too late. But thankfully, mentioned nothing when the room was engulfed in flames. Just sending Mel a understanding nod.

Abby may get on Macy’s nerves, but she truly did care about her overall well-being.

“Oh thank you Lovely, now we can see where the Cancellors coming from.” Harry commented, subtly driving attention away from Abigael.

The Latina still could see the flush on her girlfriends face. And squeezed her hand again. Trying to say it was ok through touch.

Annoyingly, even with Macy’s flame, the room was not very bright. And from what Mel could see, it was another circular room, but with a domed ceiling, and vine-snaked walls.

Everyone sorta teetered around, peering closely at the cylinder wall, some parts holding ritualistic type carvings underneath the vines.

“How interesting.” Abby mused lightly, tracing a line finger in the indentions.

Mel winced slightly, as the light behind her got abruptly brighter.

“Hey Mace, good job with the light! Didn’t know you were practicing.”

“Mel…” Macy’s voice sounded nervous and halted, “Mel that isn’t me.”

“What do you mean who else would it-“

She cut off, as everyone turned to the center of the room.

Somehow, submerged in the darkness, a middle platform was completely unseen.

But now, from a spotlight coming from nowhere, it was illuminated in a ghostly, nearly theatrical glow.

And on top of that platform, posing dramatically, was the Cancellor.

Maggie scrunched her nose, “Wait… is that-“

-“LIL NAS X?!?” Mel exclaimed abnormally loud.

Her brain was completely shot. How could this be possible. This shouldn’t be. It couldn’t be.

But yet, it was, no one else rocked Red dreads, tiny black & white boxers, and thigh high leather boots then the number 1 black gay pop artist.

Macy looked thoroughly confused, “Who..? And are you sure that’s him?”

“I thought he looked familiar.” Maggie mumbled to herself.

Harry’s eyes were bugging out of his head, caught between staring and trying to give the Cancellor some privacy. The bulge in his CK boxers leaving nothing to imagination.

“No that’s definitely him,” Abby purred, practically hypnotized, “No one wears those raunchy underwear but him.”

Mel blushed jealously, “He’s gay Abby. As in into penis.”

Abigael jerked her head, trance broken as she gazed at her pouting girlfriend.

“Aww,” she cooed once again, leaning in close, “Is someone jealous of a LilNausex clone?”

The lesbian flushed, hating how adorable Abbys mispronunciation of his name sounded in her accent.

“It’s Lil Nas X.” She stated huffily.

Abby frowned, just a tad, “Oh come on Lovely.”

“Don’t lovely me!” Mel denied stubbornly.

It was a bit childish, yes, but right now the Demon straddling a chair from literally nowhere was undeniably hot for the Men lovers in the room. And she was green with envy.

“Oh you should know by now,” Abby whispered, her tone seductive and lovely, “Your the only one I want to see in those flamboyant boxers.”

Mel hated how much she was turned on right now.

“Also,” her girlfriends voice was now soft, “No matter how much I may ogle or tease, you really are my one and only love.”

Ok, now she could love her again.

“I hate you.”

“Love you too.”

“Not to break up this repetitive conversation,” Macy once again interrupted, “But how is ‘Lil Nas X’ in the room?”

“Yeah,” Harry piped up finally, “He’s human. And it’s not like he’s killed and stolen the crown, and powers of some random leader.”

“OH MY GOD.” Mel screeched, going straight back to mortified.

“I THOUGHT THAT WAS JUST IN THE VIDEO!?”

Everyone turned to her for an explanation, while she blushed from the heavy gaze, and sexual nature of the rationale.

“I-In his recent music video,” she whispered meekly, “he kills satan and steals his power.”

Her blushed increased dramatically at the implication.

“Not that I’ve watched it or something.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Abby whispered with a devilish attitude, “I’ve watched it plenty enough for the both of us.”

“Basically he stripper poles his way down to hell, does a Lap dance for Satan himself, and then proceeds to kill him in the middle of the throws of it. Ergo stealing his crown. And then his powers. We avid fans all assumed it was apart of gay pride and acceptance and sticking it to the homophobes. Turns out it’s that, and becoming all powerful.”

True to their personality. Mel loves what Abby says, Maggie nods appreciatively and nonchalantly, while Macy and Harry look seconds away from dying of pure awkwardness.

“Um, why isn’t he saying anything?” Maggie points out. The sexy demon staring at them all unblinkingly, thoroughly creeping them out.

“Maybe the voices doesn’t carry when he takes the form?” Macy suggests, “So he tries to hide it by not talking? False sense of security?”

Lil N’as Cloné then opened his mouth, revealing a large jagged set of teeth, jaw unhinging slightly.

“Or!” Maggie says with a state of panic, “He was just waiting to eat us alive!”

The demon crouches low, nearly spider like. Swaying from side to side.

“Ladies! Backs to the wall!” Harry announces, “And make sure to show some type of power, we don’t know how long the transformation takes, so we need to keep track on who still possesses them.”

Mel needs no second affirmation, grabbing Abbys wrist and yanking her back.

“Mel?” She looks outraged, “We need to fight it!”

“Yeah we’ll I can’t fight it if your powers are stolen and need someone to protect you!”

Abigael huffs, “I can take care of myself Melanie. See?”

She holds her hand up as if to summon a flame.

Head jerking when none appears.

Her expression changes to one filled with fear and confusion, “Bloody hell??”

Abby continued to unsuccessfully summon a flame, hand whirring to a blur.

“Mel!” She exclaimed in a frenzy, “Mel, it’s not working, why isn’t it working? To hell with this!”

“Hey! Hey,” the Latina soothed, rushing to place a hand on her arm in a calming motion, “Carino it’s ok. Don’t panic. The lil n’as dude just took your powers assumingly.”

“Are you sure?!?”

It seemed kinda like a controversial question to ask; considering she couldn’t activate her fire powers, but Mel understood it was from fear rather then logic.

“Well, try to smoke phase.”

Abby nodded tentatively. Raising her hands once again.

The very tips of her fingers produced ashy whisps, but aside from that, their was nothing.

“Your smoking.” Maggie unhelpfully stated, as she edged towards them.

“Why thank you Captain obvious!” Abby snarked bitterly.

The brunette looked concerned, glancing at the Latina instead, “Mel, what’s wrong?”

Abby was outraged, “Mel?! I am RIGHT HERE y’a know, if your just gonna stand their like a blathering idiot you might as well-“

-“She’s been cancelled,” Mel interrupted blatantly, witch just a tad of irritation at her raving girlfriend, “Her powers aren’t working and she’s lashing out.”

Maggie shrugged, “Naturally.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN NATURALLY?! I have a RIGHT to be upset I-“

-“So you sure their fully gone?” Her sister continued, “I never saw the Cancellor do anything? And he still looks like Lil N’as!”

Mel turned back to the center, brows furrowing at the now empty stage.

“Where’d he go?”

The dead silence, and lack of demon, filled the room with an eerie unsettling vibe.

“Mel, I don’t like this.” The empath warned.

She didn’t either.

“MACY!” The Latina called out, “WHERED HE GO?”

Macy looked just as panicked, probably even more, “I DONT KNOW! HE WAS JUST HERE?!”

“Oh for gods sake! We should rejoice for all I care! I’m the one with my powers gone and if you would STOP bloody ignoring me id-“

Mel whirled around, placing one finger in front of Abbys lips, the other hand firmly around her waist.

“Abby. I love you. I know your freaking out right now. But please, can you refrain from ranting till we leave?”

Abbys eyes were both murderous and loving, and softly, Mel kissed her until it changed to a lightly irritated.

“Better?” She puffed quietly.

The Britt nodded silently, blushing lightly at the affection showed.

Mel scrunched her eyebrows, briefly seeing the abrupt look of horror sweep it’s way across her girlfriends face.

“What’s wr-“

-“MEL LOOK OUT!”

Abby had shoved her aside roughly, the witch groaning as she hit the ground, but enough adrenaline rushing through to allow her to roll to her elbows.

She glanced up, Just in time to see a dark shadow drag Abigail to the the darkest parts of the room.

“ABBY!” She screamed, arm outreached and terror in her eyes.

“MACY!” Mel barked, “MORE LIGHT.”

Her sister didn’t have to be told twice, “ON IT!”

Immediately, the softly glow from Macy’s flame turned into a raging fire, illuminating all that it could without burning something.

Dead silence followed.

Maggie gasped, “Oh no.”

Standing before them, with the shadows gone and dust settled, was two identical Abigael Jameson-Caines. Each with matching clothes and injuries.

“By all things science.” Macy blanched.

“The Cancellor has taken Abbys form!” Harry informed quickly, “Ready yourself for an attack from either one.”

Mel rose to her feet on shaky limbs, reading an icicle from the air particles around her.

“Alright,” her voice was steady, although she wasn’t calm in the slightest, “One of you is the hot pain in my ass who I love dearly. And the other is a cannibalistic identity stealer. So. Who’s who.”

Immediately both of them rushed to ensure her trust, voices perfectly identical.

“I’m the real Abby!” The one on the right said.

“No!” Lefty said, “Don’t listen to them I’m the real Abby!”

[Authors note - Right side Abby will be in bold.

Left side Abby is in Italics.]

“Their perfectly identical,” Macy stressed, “How are we gonna tell them apart?!”

“Their must be a logical way to solve this.” Harry muttered under his breath.

“Come on guys, really?” Maggie shot them a glare, Mel seemed to catch on, “It’s easy really.”

“We quiz them.”

After a quick group huddle, and their bearings regain, they were ready to give a life or death quiz.

“Alright Abby clones,” Maggie narrated, “We’ve each prepared a question, something only the real Abby should know. Based on your answers, we will decide if your truthful or not.”

“Great just don’t dose me with truth serum while your at it.” Both Abbys snarked in complete unison, before shooting matching scowls at the other.

Maggie looked drastically discouraged but the display, voice wavering.

“U-uh, um, y-yes. Questions. H-Harry your up.”

The man walked up a few feet, nervously wiping his palms against his button up.

“Alright, ladies,” he gave his habitual gentlemen nod to the two of them, “When one of you invited me over for dinner, what was the main course?”

“Duck!” Righty said immediately. Grinning proudly.

“Hey! That one was too easy!” Lefty argued, “Duck is the best meat for a date! Everyone knows that! Not to mention I gave Harold a massage beforehand.”

“Of course it’s the best! What else would you eat, bloody chicken like an uncultured heathen?!”

Righty paused to glance at Harry, “Uh, I get the point for that one right?”

Harry looked overwhelmed, panic evident on his face.

“Uh, um. Undecided!” He then quickly scampered to the back of the pack, face flushed while doing so.

“Completely identical.” The Whitelighter whispered to no one.

Macy shrugged, “Guess I’m up.”

She approached the twins glancing at either with an impassive face.

“Let’s see, what’s Abbys favorite nickname for me?”

“Whitebanger.” The two answer in synchronized perfection. Shooting yet another glare at each other.

Macy looked tired, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Of course that one was too easy. Any Abby could apparently answer that in her sleep. Let me think of a harder question.”

It wasn’t long before her poker face soon returned. Leveling them up once again.

“When You fake poisoned yourself, what was that one question that was actually subserviently a dig on me?”

“To spoon!” Left jolted, “I asked you to spoon!”

“Actually! I asked her if she was the big spoon or little spoon.”

“Well excuse me for messing up one tiny detail! At least I got the spoon part before you!” Left rolled her eyesz

“Well mine was actually accurate, so yours doesn’t count!”

“Yeah it does!”

“Does not!” Right argued.

“ENOUGH!”

Macy had both hands out, face strained, “You two need to stop arguing so I can think!”

The clones shut up, as she stormed back towards the group, shaking her head.

“They share a freaking mind.” The eldest stated bitterly.

A few minutes passed as they waited for Maggie to step up. Who looked severely intimidated by the task at hand.

Mel coughed, “Maggie it’s-“

“I KNOW!” The Latina shrieked, “GIVE ME A SECOND!”

“Okayyy!”

The youngest took a couple very hesitant feet forward.

“Hello!” She waved awkwardly, “I’m Maggie -wait ugh, Abby already knows that of course! Gosh stop talking to yourself and think of a damn question!”

She bit her lip nervously, looking at them with a fearful expression.

“Ok, um. Let’s see. What’s some things Abby likes to do?”

“Oh that’s easy, Alcohol, Mel, making Macymorts life miserable!” Righty laughed to herself.

Mel ignored the fierce blush that rose to her face at the implication.

“But that’s easy,” Lefty sneered meanly, “I like to do many things, all which someone could easily guess.”

“Pray tell, tell me how you could ‘guess’ I like those things?”

“Well I-“

-“Ok!” Maggie squeaked, “Another question then!”

She then proceeded to flounder for a few moments. Hands waving rapidly in anxiety.

“Um, ok then. Who’d you save my life from?”

“My brother.”

“My half-brother, Parker.”

The answers seemed to be the same, yet lefty seemed to be happy with how specific she was.

Maggie, however, had paused. Eyes narrowed at the two, caught in a thought.

“Maggie?” Mel whispered, “What did you see?”

The Brunette jolted, plastering a fake smile on her face, “Oh nothing! Just a trick of the light!”

Mel grabbed her arm once she returned closer to the group, “Pfft, trick of the light my ass, you saw something? What was it?”

“I honestly don’t know,” her eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, “It was something about how they said it. They said the some thing, yet one sounded right, and the other wrong?”

“But how is that possible?” Macy interject lowly, ever the logical person.

“I don’t know!” Maggie whined, arms flailing, “It just was!”

“We’ll don’t stress,” Mel soothed, “We definitely have something by now from other questions.”

“We definitely, do not, have something from any of these questions.” Harry muttered a few minutes later in a group huddle.

“Maggie,” he glanced at the youngest, “Were you able to get anything, you know, empath wise?”

Her gaze snapped to his, a bit of fire in her pupils, “Don’t you think I would have said something if I did?! It’s hard enough that their identical, but their emotions are too! The Cancellor apparently has the ability to copy someone completely! They know everything about the other, because they know it themselves!”

Mel gasped, realization hitting her in a flash, “Oh my god Mags, that’s it!”

Maggie looked confused, as did the rest of them, “What’s it? What did I say?”

“I can’t be something Abby already knows,” she explained carefully, in a deep whisper, “If it’s something she already knows, the Cancellor can immediately pick up on it. He has a copy of all her memories! It’s gotta be something she doesn’t know, or, Moreover, something we know that can get a honest reaction she doesn’t know she makes.”

“But that’s practically impossible!”

“Don’t say that Macy, it’s not impossible if your the girlfriend of Abigael Jameson-Caine!”

Mel pulled from the group, walking up to the two with a confident swagger.

Both, of course, seemed a bit taken aback by her bold demeanor.

“Ok Siamese freak from hell,” she grinned, cracking her knuckles, “Your in my court now, It’s my turn to ask the questions.”

“One of you is the woman I love, and the fact she’s currently having to take a quiz for her life is sickening, so that stokes the fire of hate I have for whoever is causing this. And once I find out who is it, I promise you will regret ever messing with us, and mi Cariño!”

Mel let her monologue be a distraction, gradually advancing forward as she spoke. Until she was directly in front of them.

“Now, it’s time for your final question.”

She stared them in their chocolate orbs, lingering over the right one. Mel couldn’t understand it, but she felt as if the righty was the true Abby. Even with no proof. Their was just something in her eyes.

“Can you kindly hold you hands like this?”

The Latina then proceeded to hold one hand up, baring the wrist, the other slightly bellow, pressing on a very specific patch of skin.

The two were confused, both tilting their heads to the side slightly, in a way Abby would commonly do when she was thinking.

Mel let her hands drop to her sides, watching like a hawk as the complied. She could feel the groups eyes on her, and was desperately praying that this worked.

A few seconds passed. Nothing happened. Perfectly identical.

Then, it happened. The Abby on the right legs swiftly crumpled.

Mel rushed in, and in one move, caught Abby with one arm. The other, which had been hidden from sight, stabbing the duplicate with a quickly formed air icicle.

The demon gave a feral screech from the weapon embedded in its chest, clawing at it weakly.

The group watched in awe as it switched between numerous forms, one which of was lil n’as, the others it’s countless victims.

“How?” It gasped hoarsely, “I’m completely identical.”

“That’s where your wrong!” Mel smiled proudly, “You see, in a way, you were identical. You knew everything Abby did because you could copy her mind! But what about something she didn’t even know of? Like the fact that from years of being put in shock cuffs consequently damaged the nerve in her right wrist? That when pressed, would cause her to pass out?”

“But how?” It wailed, “She would have known!”

“Except she didn’t!” The Latina cradled the unconscious body gently, kissing Abbys crown lightly, “I only found out by accident. And she didn’t remember a thing about it when waking up. I didn’t want to worry her, so I just stayed quiet. I soon understood why it happened due to her trial. But as a demon who can only copy what the person knows, you wouldn’t have.”

The creature let out a few more pitiful whines before crumpling to ash and dust.

“MEL!” Maggie shrieked in happiness, giving her a gigantic hug, “That was AMAZING! How did you figure it out?!”

“Just by what you said,” she answered honestly,” Their emotions were the same, and physically they were too. But the body is an amazing thing, and it does many things were not even aware of!”

“That is factually correct!” Macy complimented with a smile.

“I suppose this calls for a celebration when we get home, err, when do you think she’ll wake up?” Harry gestured to the peacefully resting girl.

The lesbian grinned softly, “Oh, any moment now. It only knocks her out for a minute or two.”

“Oh!” Maggie perked up, “I just remembered what I noticed about her response!”

Everyone stared with great interest.

The youngest smiled, “Abby called Parker ‘Brother’. Even though he’s only half related, she always adressed him as her brother. I guess the clone thought we wanted more specific.”

“She truly is just that amazing.” Mel noted warmly, lips parting when she felt Abby starting to stir.

The group took this as their key to leave, telling Mel to meet them back in the other room.

She nodded, expression soft when Abigaels eyes fluttered open.

“W-what happened? D-id we do it? Is it gone?”

“Gone Cariño,” Mel cooed, smoothing the stray hairs off her face and stroking her forehead just the way she liked, “All thanks to you my love.”

“Me?” Abigael questioned, “What did I do? All I remember is, ugh, I have a killer headache, I just remember doing some weird hand signs and then darkness?”

“Oh my love, you were yourself! Undeniably, and amazingly yourself. And no Lil N’as, fancy identity stealer could ever imitate you perfectly. For theirs only one of you. And for that, I am greatful.”

“Why?” Abby arched an eyebrow, smiling erotically, “Because I’m too hot to handle?”

Mel scoffed, chuckling despite herself, nearly dropping her girlfriend in the process.

“More like because i can barely tolerate one of your personality!”

The Britt pouted slightly, “Your mean.”

“Oh am I?” She leaned in and kissed her pouty lips, “No but actually? It’s because I’m reminded to never take you for granted. I only get one of you. And it be the worst mistake of my life to waste it.”

Abbys lips turned to a fond smile, “And their you go again, making me feel things and generally be a better happier person.”

“Oh the audacity of myself!” The witch smirked.

“Ugh, I hate you!”

She grinned, “Love you too.”

[sunflowerim]

I LOVE YOU 3000!

-PART 26

Weekend 2

Harry arrived right on time. Louis opened the door to a warm smile and a basket of chocolate.

"Ok, when I said don't bring pizza, I certainly didn't mean, 'bring loads of chocolates'", Louis laughed, letting Harry in.

"What can I say, I'm such a gentleman," Harry replied with an all knowing smile.

Harry had barely stepped into the apartment when Clifford ran to him. Harry was a bit startled, but soon crouched down and started scratching Cliff behind his ears.

"Someone's not asleep today. How are you Cliffy. You gonna watch a movie with us?", Harry babbled on in a childlike voice as Louis shut the door behind them and moved over to the couch, eyes never leaving Harry.

"Do you know what movie we're watching today?" Louis asked.

"The Incredible Hulk. I've done my research thank you."

"Good," Louis smiled getting the remote. Everything else was already set up.

Harry got up and walked to the couch, Clifford on his heel and as soon as he sat down, Clifford settled himself on Harry's feet.

"So what brought this sudden change of demeanor?" Harry asked, patting Cliff's head.

"Maybe he's expecting more treats."

"Shit. I mean sorry. I didn't get anything for him. I mean I wanted to, but I didn't know if he had any preference or restrictions."

"Chill Harry, I have his food stocked up for a whole month. You needn't get him anything. I was just teasing."

"Oh. Okay."

"You didn't answer my question."

"What was it again?"

"Chocolates."

"Oh that. Well, I saw the stash of chocolates on your fridge the other day, so I got you some more. It was good to know that you have a sweet tooth. But seriously, so many chocolates Louis! One would think you're a five year old."

"Hey, those were not mine."

"Cliff surely doesn't eat those. Do you Cliff?" Harry said, looking down at Clifford during the last bit and scratching his ears, to which he gave a joyful bark. "See, he says no."

"Don't turn my son against me", Louis replied, faux-offended. "No really, those aren't mine. My niece and nephew go to the school around the corner, and they drop by randomly to spend time with their beloved uncle and I spoil them with chocolates."

"How sweet. But am I supposed to believe that you never grab chocolates for yourself?"

"I'm only human Harry. Ofcourse I do."

"Thought as much."

"You wanna see their pictures?"

"Sure."

Louis scrolled in his gallery and pulled out a picture of him holding the hands of two kids on his either side. The shot was taken on a football pitch, Louis wearing a white jersey and the two kids wearing red ones.

"That's Lux and Theo. They accompanied me as mascots that year."

"You play football?"

"What does it look like?"

"No, I mean not just casual games, proper matches! Wow. You're that passionate about it?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Louis smiled at the picture.

"Your niece and nephew are so cute."

"I know right. And you must know they're equally mischievous. Little pranksters."

"Wonder who taught them", Harry teased.

"Cool uncle Louis might have had something to do with it, but you didn't hear it from me."

"Never. My lips are sealed."

"Good."

"That reminds me." Harry fished out his phone and paused. "Do you mind if I get a picture if you?"

"Yeah, but why?"

"I'll save it as your contact image."

"Oh sure."

Louis smiled softly and Harry's heart skipped a beat. He kept staring at Louis through the phone and it wasn't until Louis cleared his throat, that Harry realised what he was supposed to do.

"Just a minute. And--- we're done. Looking good!"

Louis smiled bashfully as he saw Harry open his contact to save the picture. That's when he saw the name.

Lou :)

Louis melted into a puddle at his contact name on Harry's phone and instantly felt bad about saving Harry's name as simply Harry Styles. Looks too professional. He made a mental note to change it later.

"My turn." Louis focussed his camera on Harry, as the boy smiled widely, dimples popping up. Louis smiled too and took the picture. He looked at it for a second before shoving his phone back in his pocket. "Movie?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, easing back in the couch.

"Yeah. No wait- shit I forgot." With that Louis jumped from the couch and sprinted towards the kitchen. Harry sat confused for a while before Louis re-emerged with a tray containing a huge bowl and two plates and cutlery.

"I hope you like pasta."

"Yeah. Oh. Wow. You cooked for me?"

"Haha no Harold. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I can't cook. I had my helper make it."

"Oh."

"Disappointed?" Louis laughed.

"No no, I was just momentarily surprised."

Louis smiled as he set the tray down on the coffee table and and hit play on the remote.

Once again, Louis watched Harry's reaction with great amusement, but this time, he noticed something else too. He noticed Harry's jaw drop every time, the lead actor got shirtless and how terrified he looked everytime he changed to the huge Hulk.

"Don't get too attached Harry. He's only starring in this movie. A different actor plays Hulk in the rest of the movies."

And Harry looked so sad at that, Louis melted.

"Aww, poor Haz."

Harry's lips quirked upwards at the pet name and from the corner of his eyes he could see Louis tense beside him.

"Um, sorry. I didn't mean to--"

"No, nono it's okay. You can call me Haz. I like it."

"Okay." Louis continued after a pause, "remember when I told you not to call me Lou?"

"Yeah, shit sorry, I know last week it slipped off my tongue once or twice."

"Yeah, no I mean, you can call me Lou too."

"Okay," Harry smiled and returned to the screen.

The time passed by pleasantly between movie, pasta, timid glances towards each other and Clifford switching between Harry and Louis' laps.

After the movie ended, Harry turned towards Louis and held his hand out. "Give me your phone."

"What? Why?"

"Just open your Instagram explore page and give. Don't worry I'll not snoop around."

Louis did as told and Harry typed out a username and and clicked on it.

"Here's my private account." Harry said, handing Louis back the phone. "You can follow me here if you want. I can actually post freely on here."

Louis looked st the screen hs94.

Louis didn't want to check it in front of Harry. So he just smiled and nodded. "I will."

Harry smiled back.

"Guess, I should leave now."

Louis ignored the sad voice in his head that had reappeared again.

"Until next week Louis Tomlinson," Harry called walking out the door.

"Until next week Harry."

And as Harry left, Louis took out his phone and edited Harry's contact.

PREVIOUS / NEXT

INTRO

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Aladdin Queen fic John Deacon x reader Chap. 12; Happy Ending

*Author’s note*

And here it is guys, the last part of my first Disney AU fic. I want to thank everyone who gave this fic a chance and I hope to eventually come up with another Disney AU fic. But until then I’ve got another upcoming movie AU for Queen that I know you all are going to love.

SO until the next update stay safe, stay healthy and stay hydrated (esp. for us dealing with the summer heat right now)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things​

@waddles03​

@psychosupernatural​

@ixchel-9275​

@simonedk​

@dancingcoolcat​

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​

@queensdivas​

@geek-and-proud​

@queendeakyy​

@kairosfreddie​

___________________________________________________________

With the defeat of Paul and him being sealed in the lamp, everything that he had done to my homeland turned back to normal. The palace was rebuilt and back to brand new, Brian and Roger turned back into normal humans once again, John’s royal clothes were restored, the three Kings soon appeared free from their cage, and Simba and Nala returned to their original size.

As Paul continued his pitiless threats, Freddie and I just grinned at each other and he said as he took Paul’s lamp from my hands.

“Allow me darling. Ten thousand years in the Cave of Wonders outta chill you out.” He then tossed the lamp in the air like a ball before swinging a bat that he made appear in his hands to hit Paul’s lamp far beyond the sand dunes right to the Cave of Wonders.

I turned to see the Princes unite with their fathers hugging and kissing each other.  Their pets nuzzling their heads against their master’s legs thankful to have them back once more.  Nervously I walked towards them and when John turned towards me I said.

“I—I’m so sorry. For everything.”

“No my dear, there is no need to apologizes. How can we ever thank you?” John’s father asked.

“No, no, no there’s no reason to thank me. I just hope you can one day forgive me for my lies and deceit. Especially you John Deacon.” He looked at me solemnly.  “You deserve—so much better than me.”

“We all make mistakes.” Brian’s father said softly with a warm smile.  I nodded and took off my engagement ring and walked back towards John.  I gave him his mother’s ring back and closed his palm before walking back towards Freddie.

“(Y/n)!” John called out my name.  I turned to him and gave him a light smile and assured him with my eyes.

“You’re going to be remembered as the Greatest king your country will ever know.” I nodded before turning my back on him and grabbed the lamp.  I watched as Abu dragged the remaining parts of Carpet who had been ripped during our battle and Freddie hissed in pain as he said.

“Ohh that’s uhh—bit of a mess there Abu. Let me take care of that for you dear.” Using his magic he repaired Carpet like brand new.  He came back to life which made Abu happy to have his best friend back.

He leapt towards Carpet and the two of them hugged each other.  Freddie grinned and said.

“Aww now that’s lovely.” He then turned towards me and tutted. “Ah-ah-ah no long faces there darling. Okay I got an idea, alright? This is your last wish. Royalty was the right idea, okay? We just gotta re-route it a little how about this?” He then transformed into an Amazonian warrior and he said, “(Y/n) Warrior Princess. Defender of the weak and hunter of thieves and villains.” He then readied one of the arrows into the bow and he pulled back as he cried out, “For King John Deacon!” He then released the arrow and phased back to his normal self, “Good right?”

I shook my head at him.

“No? Okay, alright. I hear you. But this is what you need,” he then held out a scroll and unraveled it before going through the very long scroll, “See governing laws of England. See here we—ah-ha here we are. ‘Must marry a Princess of an allied country’. Now you say the right words and this law—kinda goes away. You and Deacy darling over there. Together forever.”

“Wait so—you can get rid of the law?” I asked him.

“Pfft, darling please. Like it’s that hard.” I chuckled a sigh and said as I held the lamp in my hands.

“Okay.”

“Alright darling let’s do this. For the whole kit and kaboodle.”

“Freddie;” he shook his hands out and readied himself ready to work his magic for the final time.

“Bring it to me darling, I’m ready.”

“I wish……”

“Don’t hold back now. One final wish.”

“I wish—to set you free.”

“One princess pedigree coming—wait what?” He began to glow and his wrists began to shine as his cuffs came off of him and landed on the ground before disintegrating.  He was slowly lowered back down to the ground as he now was in his human disguise, but this time it was eternal.

Freddie was now human.

He was in full disbelief as he looked up at me down to his wrists, not believing what it was that had just happened.

“Umm…..quick, quick wish for something outrageous darling.”

“Like what?”

“I-I don’t know, wish for the Nile. Say I wish for the Nile?”

“Uhh I wish for the Nile?”

“Fuck no!” he exclaimed.  I chuckled and he chuckled back.  Tears filled his eyes as he raced right up and immediately hugged me as tight as he could and spun me around.  I held onto him, the two of us burying our faces into each other’s necks. “Thank you darling (y/n). Thank you.” I heard him whimper as tears fell onto my neck.

“No, thank you Freddie. For everything.” He set me down and he cupped my face in between his hands and he said again.

“And no matter what anybody says, you’ll always be my Princess.” I smiled and closed my eyes as I felt him kiss my forehead.

“So—what will you do with your freedom?” I asked him.

“Well…..” he turned back towards the six rulers along with Jim. “There—is this animal keeper that I would love—to spend the rest of my life with. If…..he’ll have me?” Freddie said as he and Jim walked towards each other.

Jim turned towards the Princes and the three of them nodded telling him to get on with it.  Jim turned back around and he said.

“When do we start? Also I’d love to have some cats.”

“Yes darling, bunches of them.”

“Ten in total. We’ll save any cat off the street and heal them and give them a warm home while you entertain them with songs and music.”

“And we can run a shop together.”

“Yes a large one filled with treasures the world has to offer.”

“I was kinda thinking a more smaller one.”

“That works too.” Freddie smiled widely and he and Jim embraced each other before giving each other a passionate kiss.

*John’s POV*

I’m proud that Jim finally found himself someone to spend the rest of his life with.  He deserves to have someone, even if they were formally a genie, but Freddie seemed good for him. I felt a hand take mine and I turned to see my father.

“Come, sit with me my son.” He guided me away from Roger and Brian who were now speaking with their father’s individually. “I am sorry.”

“Father what is—”

“Please let me finish.” He said.  He looked at me with solemn eyes but I could see they held some pride in them, those strong eyes that I’ve always admired and hoped to gain one day just like him.  “My beloved son. Harold, Michael and I were so afraid of losing you boys, like we lost your mothers. That we were blind at only seeing the three small boys you three once were. Not the three strong men you’ve become. You alone have shown me what true courage, loyalty, and strength you have. You are the future of England.”

He then removed the ring of Kings from his finger and held it out to me.

“You—are ready to be the next king of all England.” I looked at him in shock.

“All?”

“Yes. You know as well as I that Roger and Brian had no real desire for the throne. So their fathers and I have decided that only one king should rule all of England. And you have proven to be that one king we all need. Your friends and brothers shall be what they longed to be, and still remain as they help you rule at your side. Brian shall be your astronomer and advisor. While Roger shall help you lead your explorations and Navy.”

I—I couldn’t believe it.  I was to be crowned King of not just my kingdom, but all the kingdoms of England.  My father and uncles were planning to unity all three of our kingdoms into one sole English kingdom, and now I am it’s king.

With tears in my eyes I took the ring and stood up over my father and choked out gratefully.

“Thank you father. I will make you proud.”

“You already have. And as king, you may change the laws as you see fit.” He took my hands in his and kissed my fingers before looking back up at me proudly, “She is just like your mother was to me.” My lip quivered and I hugged my father as tight as I could as a few tears fell out.

“Wh—where is she?” I heard Freddie say.  We all looked up and I took notice that (y/n) was indeed gone.

Clever girl must’ve slipped out throughout all this emotional scenes.

“Go after her John.” My father said.  I nodded and looked down to Nala and said.

“Come on girl.” She obeyed and trailed behind me as the two of us left the palace to find (y/n).

*My POV*

Through all that emotion and finally doing what I was set out to do, I decided it was best to just slip back into my normal life, if I could.  Abu walked along my side as we left the palace and the people were once again out along the village ready to start their day.

I felt around my pocket before finally taking out the second ring I had taken from John the night of our first meeting. I grinned and placed it over my thumb when a voice called out.

“Stop right there thief! The King of England commands you.” The crowd stopped and I could hear faint whispers.  I turned around and there stood John with Nala behind him.  I raised my brow at him as I said.

“King? Does that mean I’m in trouble?” I took off his ring and held it up to show him.  He walked up toward me and said throwing my own words back in my face.

“Only because you got caught.” I felt his index finger go under my chin to lift my head up and that’s when I felt his lips immediately kiss mine.

I closed my eyes and slowly wrapped my arms around his neck and brushed through his short chocolate hair.  I felt his arm wrap around my waist as his other hand gently cupped the side of my face deepening our kiss.  We separated for a brief second before smiling at each other and kissing each other again.

By nightfall our final kiss of the day was our first kiss as husband and wife.  My entire kingdom witnessed this glorious event and all applauded for the King of England finally found his bride; me.

After we separated I couldn’t wipe the smile off of my face as our friends and family came over to congratulate us.

John hugged his father and I hugged Freddie who also gave me a kiss on each cheek.  I was also hugged by my new brother in laws and dearest friends Roger and Brian.  But the greatest pleasure of all was when I had the three former kings hug and kiss me welcoming me to their family.

We all stood in a line before my people as I now represented them in our alliance with England.  Fireworks boomed across the night sky signaling celebration. Carpet came up to John and I and we got on top of him and he flew us up high into the sky over the fireworks as my people all stared and continued to applaud for us.

I turned to my new husband and he smiled down at me and tucked a strand of hair back behind my ear before the two of us kissed once more as Carpet took us far beyond the sky off to a whole new world.

[crimsonbluemoon]

OoOOoh! Fun! Fun! Fun! I love these, heheheh. How 'bout Celebrity!au, childhood friends, "Are you sure this is legal?" and/or "It's been so long since we did this.", and Minicat. :3 also don't mind if i reblog the game... no one ever asks me to do one but they're fun to do when i got the time. XD Hope ya have fun with all the asks ya get!

Aww I’m sure people will message you! And I’m slowly but surely getting through these. I’m hoping to get one or two done a day. ^.^ But enjoy this one for now!

AU: CelebrityTrope: Childhood friendsPrompt:  "Are you sure this is legal?“ and/or "It’s been so long since we did this.”

Pairing: Minicat

“Are you sure this is legal?” Even drunk, Craig felt like something was off about the ‘no trespassing after sunset’ sign that hung on the lifeguard post they were walking by. His feet felt light, though he was sure it was the shots he’d taken at his party. Well, it had been labelled his party, though he didn’t know most of the people his manager invited. The house’s music was pumping in the distance, but Mini was dragged further away by… someone. “What’s your name again?” 

“Hunter.” The guy seemed annoyed by the question, and Craig wondered if he’d asked it before. To be fair, he’d had to get to know a lot of people’s names that night, and alcohol didn’t help matters. Also, he really didn’t know where he was at the moment. 

Well, he knew the city at least. L.A was still the same as it’d been twenty years ago, when he’d thought he ran the streets on his bike or his surfboard. Now, after winning the NASL cup and being crowned MVP, he really did own the city. That was why he was having the dumb party with those people he didn’t know or care for. Why some guy with a stupid name was dragging him like a two year old’s ratty blanket, no care or concern for his well being. But really, did anyone these days? When was the last time that someone actually talked to Craig about something other than money, fame, or what he could do for them?   

His eyes closed slowly while he was dragged along, hearing the waves of the ocean crashing into the shore. His feet had lost their shoes, maybe along the walk to the sand, and his toes dug in with a familiar joy. This felt like home, not that stuffy expensive house that overlooked the city. The salty air, the water, all of it was so reminiscent of his childhood. How many nights had he spent on a beach like this? Searching for shells, building bonfires, finding the constellations and trying to figure out his place in the world. That had been some of the best years of his life, staring at the endless sky to remind himself that he was just so small in the grand scheme of things. 

But the best part he remembered was him. The boy with grubby cheeks and a scowl who turned into the teen with rough hands and angry blue eyes. The one person who asked him for nothing. Nothing but his company. When Craig thought he had nothing, he gave Mini everything he needed to reach his dream. Craig wished he could have done the same back then. 

Maybe now, too, if his drunk heart had anything to say about it.

“Freeze.” The voice that called out the command sounded familiar, but Mini’s brain was too sloshed to fully grasp from where. The hand that had been wrapped around his wrist was gone in an instant. It took Craig a moment to open his eyes again, and he caught a glimpse of the back of the man (Henry? Harold?) who had brought him to the beach running out of sight. It took a moment for his body to realize it was on its own, and then the world started to tilt. His arms tried to stabilize him by flailing out on either side, but it was the firm wall that his back bumped into that kept him from falling. Slowly, Mini blinked, letting gravity pull his head back to gaze up at the owner of the chest keeping his upright. His eyes were blurred a bit, partly from alcohol and the slant of his glasses, but even with the smeared vision, he picked up on some of the man’s features. 

Why’d this officer have to have blue eyes like him, too?

“You’re…really pretty.” His words fell out without any chance of filter stopping them, but he was too drunk to mind. Everything was just right for a moment; the music in the background was lower now, and the warmth on his back felt like a comforting blanket. The ocean breeze had chilled him, and while his first companion hadn’t hesitated to leave him cold and alone, this stranger seemed fine with Mini pressed against him. Hands that might have grasped his hips to keep him standing were the right side of rough, large and just so familiar-

“Craig?” 

“That is…is totally my name.” He laughed at his own answer, head fluffy with memories and booze. He didn’t mind slipping deeper into his daydream, letting the water and cold of night sooth his wounded soul. He knew this wasn’t him; the police officer’s badge dug into his shoulder blade, and he could see the flashing lights from the cop car parked somewhere behind them.  He wasn’t that lucky. But the cop was built just like him; tall and scruffy, but soft despite the large body. Prickly, if he got any hints from the scoff that brushed his ear. But he hadn’t dropped Craig, which meant he was probably just as caring and kind on the inside as…Mini squeezed his eyes tighter, leaning back into the officer holding him. But when he spoke, it was for someone who was miles away. “God, I missed you.” 

“What are you doing out here?”

“Iunno. Some guy dragged me out here for something,” he murmured, hearing a growl of annoyance that made him smile.

“You idiot, what kind of answer-”

“It’s been so long since…since we’ve done this.” He didn’t care if his pathetic mumbling was spilled to a reporter and plastered on a tabloid next week; he just needed to let it out. Years of longing, being alone in a crowd of thousands, searching for his breaking point. Decades of just not knowing where his life was headed, or when he’d stop spinning so high, when he’d crash and burn into the ground. Who would stand by Mini in the wreckage? 

He would have, probably. Because he had given Craig his nights and attention before anyone even knew his stupid name. What would he think of Mini, now? 

The decade of radio silence gave the answer he didn’t want to hear. 

“Everything okay down there? Need me to come help haul him to the car?” The call of another officer from the beach’s side road threatened to break the dream-like state of Craig’s moment, and he groaned in protest before pressing closer to his source of warmth. 

“Nah, I’ve got him. No need to call it in.” But just like his old friend would have done, this officer, this stranger, had protected Mini.

“Do ya now? This one’s special to ya, is he?” There was a tease somewhere in the tone, but Mini didn’t open his eyes to investigate. 

“Shut up, Hanby.  Take a drive down the rest of the road and see if anyone else is around. If you can find the punk who bailed when we pulled up, cuff him. I know where this idiot lives.”

“How are you planning on getting home after helping your new friend out?” 

“I was off the clock ten minutes ago; I don’t gotta tell you shit. Now get moving.” The banter was swimming in Craig’s ears, but the thumb that brushed against his hip bone melted his brain too much to butt in.  

“Oh, there’s definitely a story here. Be ready to share it with Fong and Del over coffee tomorrow. Can’t wait, buddy.” A warm laugh echoed against the night sky when the other officer moved away, and Craig’s ear picked up on the rocks shifting under the car’s tires when it pulled away. 

“Fuck, he’s almost as big of a pain as you.” The words were sharp and warm against Craig’s ear, and he felt his body shudder from something deeper than the cold. 

“God.” This cop even sounded like him. His eyes burned behind closed lids as he let out a wet laugh, nuzzling his nose into the collar of the officer. Maybe it’d get him arrested for indecent behavior in public, but he smelt like smoked wood, motor oil, and him. Or what he’d smelt like as a teenager, maybe. The details were so fuzzy now; was he just blending this person with his past to make himself feel better? Mini’s mind sloshed over new thoughts like waves, barreling into the shore of his reality with no intention to break. 

“Let’s get you home.” But before he could take a step, before the stranger could finally break the final thread of Mini’s mirage of happiness, he spoke.

“I miss him.” A sob pushed out over his laugh, head useless against the tense shoulder behind him. “I miss us, how we…sat at the ocean, talked and…and…I just felt loved, maybe. Not like now. I don’t know if he ever felt…it’s been so long since…since I’ve been happy. You just feel like love, mr…mr. officer-sir-man. You feel like Tyler, and it’s…been so long since I’ve seen him. Since I’ve had him by my side. My whole side’s missing, it’s…he’s gone. And here I am, drunk and probably arrested and in love with a ghost. Tyler would hate me now-”

“Shit.” The grip around his waist tightened for a moment, but Mini didn’t mind the squeeze. It grounded him in a way nobody had in years. The alcohol was doing a bang up job of messing with his head, as it tried to convince him the officer’s next words were mumbled against his forehead. “Brock’s gonna be impossible to deal with when he finds out he was right. Fuck.” 

“Hey, I…I have a Brock, too.” Craig laughed and then slumped, a crest of fatigue finally rolling into him. “He’s always right, good guy. He’d make a good wife for me.” 

“Wait, what-”

“Cept can’t marry him when I love Tyler. Life would probably…be easier if I just forgot him. But, I can’t.” He yawned and accepted he’d end up in the cell by the morning, giving all his weight to the officer holding him. “I’m gonna pass out now. Thanks for…being here.” 

“I should have been here before, idiot, I-.”  Whatever else came next, Craig didn’t hear, his mind slipping into sleep. 

He didn’t know that Officer Tyler Wine carried him home. Not to the house with strangers, but to his mother’s house three miles away. The one right across the street from the house Tyler himself had bought from his parents three years ago. He didn’t know Tyler was still in his city, still driving their streets, still sitting on their beaches, reminiscing. He didn’t know Tyler had refused to reach out in case Craig no longer needed a local boy that didn’t shine in the limelight. That he’d ignored their friend’s advice, kept his nose in his work, pretended he wasn’t missing a part of himself. 

And Mini didn’t know that he’d still be there when Craig woke up the next morning. 

[wincestisasincest]

2000 Man (A beatle!reader story) - Part 3: Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

“Okay, I said fluff, so here it is. I mean, there’s like hints of sex, but really it’s mostly fluff. I also said more John. Here he is, in all his glory.

I was absolutely fascinated with the concept of our reader being bisexual, so here’s a fic that plays around with it, and since the beatle!reader fandom has been very accepting of that idea, a lot of this will be more taking from head canons, and I will list the ones below that I use, as usual. 

Also, as is the drill, credit to @casafrass for everything, though I doubt that you would find my blog if you didn’t already know hers, if that happens to be the case, please check her out. All the head canons are from her blog and its lovely anons. 

One more thing, my dumbass finally realized that italics don’t actually appear on the Tumblr mobile app, so in the near future I will re-edit the two previous entries in this series to help out our mobile readers. 

Description: It’s the year 2000, and y/n, the fifth member of the Beatles, is advertising her new book, Madam Beatle, in her first interview of the year. We see snapshots of her life, from when she joined the band, to the trials and tribulations, to the death of the band, and everything in between. Loosely inspired by Slumdog Millionaire. 

Part: 1, 2, 3

Head canons: Beatle!reader being bi as fuuuuuuck, beatle!reader’s got game, female fans having a fat crush on our bi reader(also this one), beatle!reader stealing all the lad’s girls

Words: 2,747

Pairings: Okay, lowkey there is some John x reader here, though you super duper have to squint and, like always, you can look at it as friendship if you want to, and of course, there’s also groupie x reader

Warnings: S E X, like it’s implied, but they totally did it

“Alright, now, I’d like to move on to a slightly more... promiscuous topic. Y/n, and the audience, I’m sure you’ve heard about what’s become something of a phenomenon in recent years, more and more ‘groupies’, as they were referred to in the day, have been coming out and telling their stories of what their life was like back when rock and roll fan culture was born. Some of them share their thoughts and experiences on certain rock stars of their day, and you have not been excluded from it. We’ll come back to specifics later, but in general, what do you have to say on that?”

“Well, Harold, I think it’s a wonderful thing. Groupies were and still are an important part of the business that we reside in, and honestly, they made as much of a splash in the 60s as some celebrities did. I haven’t really heard any groupies mention me yet, but I suppose all I can hope for is that they were... positive reviews?” 

“Indeed. Though, you do seem to have the most, let’s say, gender-equality in yours.”

“Well, it was the 60s. The skirts were getting shorter and shorter, women and men were becoming more expressive, and people just really stopped caring about the bullshit taboos that surround sex and gender. Though I may have been more well-known for it, it really affected all of the musicians that I knew on some level.” 

“And how does it reflect in your own life story?” 

“Well, I think especially in the early days, it had something of an effect on the fans. I was one of the main reasons why we drew a lot of male fans, but sometime later I discovered that I was also responsible for drawing in a lot of female fans. As time went on, and both our group and our fans got more daring with each other, one thing lead to another, and the next thing you know conservative Christian mothers are telling their daughters to stay away from girls like me, lest they succumb to their own feelings and not their parents need to be accepted.” 

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

“...in fact, some people are even comparing the Rolling Stones’ popularity to your own. Can you perhaps, tell us how you feel about that?” Like rats to cheese, the nosy reporters held their microphones and tape recorders up to the table where you and the lads were sitting, trying to comprehend the sea of petty attention that your career had garnered you.

“Well, there’s not really much to say,” John began, “They’re doing well for themselves and we’re doing well for ourselves. That’s really all there is to it, now. It’s not like we’re competing or anything, we’re on rather good terms.”

“Yeah,” Paul interjected, “And, I mean, I can’t speak for them, but all we’re here to do is make music that people will enjoy. If they enjoy us or the Stones, that’s not for us to decide.” That goddamned liar. Even the press had to know that they weren’t being completely genuine at this point, though the point that John and Paul had really been trying to make was clear: we’re not gonna give you what you want so stop asking. 

Something chaotic woke up inside you.

“That Mick Jagger is pretty cute, though.” You commented into your own microphone. The crowd laughed, and you smiled, proud of yourself, and getting grunts and mock-angry looks from the lads. 

You and the lads knew the truth of course. You and the Stones had a deep respect for each other, and were even close to becoming friends, but that wasn’t how this game was played. You couldn’t give the press anything too positive, or anything too negative. Just answer vaguely, and misdirect. And Paul did totally want people to like their music. 

Brian muttered something to John on the side.

“Well, I’m being told that that’s all we can answer for now. Thank you all, and we’ll see you ‘round.” 

You five cleared out of the chairs single-file and hustled out one of the side-doors. A small cloud of fans had already gathered, looking for either autographs, or touching or grabbing, or pictures, or just to tell the group that you were going to marry them one day. Brian had already told you that you would have just a few minutes for fans. 

“Two girls coming directly for you.” George whispered in your ear, and you spun around to find a redhead and a blonde looking at you eagerly. 

“Well, hi, girls! What can I do for you?” 

“Oh my goodness, erm, hi y/n! We just wanted too, uh...” the redhead trailed off. 

“We just wanted to say that we think you’re really cool, and you’re really pretty, and you’re a really good guitar-player, and um, we wanted to ask you to sign something for us.” They both stuck out a pair of white sneakers, which was admittedly something that you hadn’t been asked to sign before, though you weren’t complaining. 

“Aww, well thanks, ladies, and it’s no problem,” You began to pull a sharpie that you always kept with you out of your jacket pocket, “Do you want me to sign both shoes, or just the right one, or...?”

“Um, both, if it’s no problem!” The redhead’s voice squeaked a little. 

“Of course, why would it be a problem? Here.” You scrawled your signature on all four sneakers in the efficient manner that you were so used to be now, before looking back up at the girls and giving them a smile. The blonde one was beaming. 

“Thanks, y/n, um-” it seemed as though she instantly stopped considering her actions, and in that moment, the blonde leaned in and kissed you right on the cheek. 

You had to fight to hold back your blush.

“Aww, thanks girls, enjoy the sneakers, that’s a very stylish look if I do say so myself.” 

“Y/n, get a move on!” John called at you as he was retreating from his horde. You could sense the disappointment in the mob that was following the girls, as they were all clearly waiting their turn to see if they could speak to you, but alas, time was too short. 

“Wait, y/n, I-” someone behind the girls called. 

“But I-” You had to evacuate. 

“See you round, girls.” You flashed your million dollar smile before darting off to join John and the rest in your typical, sleek, black car. 

Slowly, the mob began to speed up behind you as you were the last, sprinting towards that open door like it would be the last one you’d see in a while. As you reached the open car door, a pair of hands quickly pulled you in and another shut the door. You piled yourself next to George and Ringo, and directly across from John and Paul. 

“I see y/n got some action, then.” Ringo poked your cheek. You noticed your reflection in the car window. That blonde had left you with a bright, red lipstick mark where your cheekbones looked their cutest.

“It seems I did.” Your cheeks flared up a little. 

“Y/n, haven’t you heard, a marriage is between a man and a woman.” John snickered. 

“Come off it, John. It’s not like that.” 

“I’m not sure if I believe that, y/n.” Paul was joining in on the teasing, following John’s lead. 

“Well, Paul, I don’t believe that I’m the only one of us who finds Mick Jagger attractive.” You shot back. George, Ringo, and yourself were the only ones who found it amusing. 

“Very nice move you pulled there, by the way. Distracting them from the Beatles vs Stones debacle to have them writing about the Romeo and Juliet thing that you and Mick have going on. Quite the strategy.” John had put his glasses back on.

“Why should I care? The only newspapers that’ll be writing that are the same ones that say the Queen is actually a man.” You peered out the window, the mob of fans looking much like a collection of dolls now. 

“And people read ‘em anyway.” George put his hands behind his head and leaned back in the seat, oddly relaxed. 

- time skip because this is a thing that I do now - 

The five of you had settled in a gentleman’s club for the evening. The club had a name, you were sure, but you hadn’t really bothered to check, as you were just here for the booze.

Even the lads weren’t really sure why we were here, but apparently, success had made us a part of the upper class, and this is what upper class people do. You’d think they would get a hobby or something.

You took a long sip of your Proseco, and through the liquid you could see a blurred scene of all of the lads’ attention suddenly grabbed by something to the left. You set the glass down. 

John wolf-whistled. 

A tall, slender brunette stalked up to the table. She was wearing a long, green velvet dress with a slit that allowed her right leg to creep out, while at the same time perfectly hugging her curves. Her lips were pursed, but still full, and her eyes had the longest lashes that you had ever seen. 

“I thought I smelled a rat.” Her voice was like chocolate, both sweet and luscious. 

“Awwww, c’mon love, don’t be like that, have a seat.” John slid a little to the side and patted the vacancy next to him. 

You took a drag out of your cigarette and made eye contact with her. Green, just like her dress. 

“Johnny here forgot that you introduce yourself before sexually harassing someone.” She half-smirked, half-smiled, and you felt pride, of all things, so much that you didn’t notice John’s side-eye.

“Well, if he’s John, then that must make you Paul,” her manicured nails were parallel with Paul’s chin, “George”, parallel with his mouth, “Ringo”, parallel with his nose, “and (y/n)”, directly down the center of your eyes, as if she was aiming to kill. 

“Well, now that we’re all familiar, I don’t think you’ll mind joining us for a drink.” John called the waiter over as she took a seat. 

“I wouldn’t say entirely familiar, for I haven’t the pleasure of knowing your name.” You swished your drink around in your glass. Paul, George, and Ringo pretended to be caught in a different conversation while you two chatted, though you knew full well that John wasn’t the only one with side-eye. 

“I don’t know, I’m not supposed to give that out to strangers.” 

“But you know ours. It’s only fair.” 

“All’s fair in love and war, dear. I’ll take a sweet Vermouth on the rocks with a twist.” The waiter must’ve always been there, because you did not see him show up. 

“Well, now that that’s settled, tell me about yourself.” John put an arm around her shoulder, which just didn’t seem to match with her perfect, clear, skin. 

This would be a long night. 

- time skiiiiiiiiiiiip for the hot brunette, also if you don’t find the type of person i described hot, imagine her as anything you like, you’re the reader after all- 

The tango that you and John were dancing for this brunette’s attention was certainly not the most graceful. You only felt satisfied when her gaze was back on you, and preferably when she was smiling. Something about her, if you will, made you want more and more of her. Know everything about her. John wanted the same thing, and for once, he wasn’t going to get it. 

“Well, I must go powder my nose, but I’ll be back shortly.” 

“Better keep to that, or I might have to go looking for you.” John and you watched her leave, the clacking of her heels on the hardwood floor slowly faded out as she disappeared into the hallway. 

Oh, yes, you’d forgotten about the rest of the world. George, Paul, and Ringo had already disappeared with intentions of partying at some of the more lively places. 

“Alright, (y/n), what are we going to do about this?” John’s eyes weren’t like hers. 

“About what?”

“Oh, don’t act all innocent. You’re the only thing getting in between me and the best bird in town.” 

“What if I enjoy her conversation? I have just as much of a right to that as you. There are thousands of girls who would sleep with you, and none of them are as engaging conversationalists.” 

“What the hell are you on about? I don’t bloody care about conversation, I want her.”

“If you think that making me angry is going to convince me, then you don’t know me half as well as you think you do. Not all of us are here to fuck, John.”

“Concerning that, I suggest that you go find someone to sleep with to take your mind off of things. You’re not winning this.” 

“Let’s just see who the lady picks, John. Waiter, excuse me, some whiskey please.” 

The lady picked someone else, you guessed. After 20 minutes of waiting, she hadn’t returned, and though John would never admit it, his mood and confidence was not nearly as high as he would’ve liked. Your whiskey bottle was completely empty.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you offered as John stared into his drink, “I lost too. There are other birdies in the sky, y’know.” Normally, John would’ve been angry, but after he’d passed a certain drink threshold, he became sad drunk rather than angry drunk.

“Yeah, you’re right, (y/n).” 

“But you should know I’m not going to-” 

“Don’t waste your breath. I’m not apologizing either.” 

“I guess Paul is right. We are both assholes.” 

John chuckled, before ruffling your hair. 

“Wanna head back to the hotel, birdie?” 

“I think I will, but the night is still young, John, I’m sure you can find someone else. That girl over there in the black has been starting at you all evening.”

“Yes. I’ve noticed. Well, I’ll see you, (y/n).” John sauntered over to the bar counter, and you gathered your purse before exiting down the hallway. 

You felt morose, though you really couldn’t tell why. It was just a conversation, and surely not the most interesting ones that you would ever have. Hell, you hadn’t even known her name. 

“Took you long enough, (n/n).” 

There she was, leaning against the wall voyeuristically, her fingers laced around a cigarette holder. You could’ve sworn the smoke was in your eyes. 

“What are you waiting for?” 

“I think you know.” 

“Would you like to, um, continue our conversation back at my hotel?” You never said ‘um’, what was going on?

“That would be agreeable.” Her heels clacked closer to you, and she put her hand on your shoulder.

Oh. That’s what that feeling was. 

- Last time skip maybe - 

You made your way downstairs, wearing clothes that were way more comfortable that whatever fancy thing you had put on last night. Your feet were still sore from the heels. 

You pushed open the door to the conference room, breakfast already laid out, with the rest of the band and Brian already munching. 

“(Y/n), at last, you’ve decided to join us.” Brian really did not feel like not being sarcastic this morning. 

“Sorry, I slept in.” 

“What’s new?” The lads snickered.

“Busy last night, hm?” Paul’s eyebrows flickered. 

“Well, weren’t we all?” You sipped your orange juice. 

“Not Johnny ‘ere.” Ringo’s head was resting on his hand, amusedly staring at John.

“Look, I would’ve, if she didn’t get offended so damn easily.” John really wasn’t in the mood, which was, of course, reason to tease him more. 

“She slapped ‘im. Across the face. While wearing a ring.” George was on his fifth piece of toast. 

“That first bird wasn’t married. ‘Other birdies in the sky’ my arse’.” He gave you a look.

“Oh yea, whatever happened to her?” Paul was all here for this drama.

“Left, without even telling us ‘er name. Bi-” 

“Her name was Carla, John.” You cut him off. You loved John, but man had you had enough of his bullshit. 

Paul had already put the whole thing together, a look of half-shock, half-waiting for John’s reaction, which at the moment was just puzzled. George nudged Ringo and whispered something. You smiled, and got up from the table to refill your plate. 

John’s sharp voice cut through the room: “Wait a minute!”

[themcuhasruinedme]

Vintage Film Fest (Pt. 4)(End)

[Summary]: You and Steve have been dating for a while and you surprise him with a pair of tickets to a vintage film festival as an anniversary date

[Pairing]: Steve x reader

[Word Count]: 3,795

Tagging: @theashhole @dividedwecantfall @peterman-parker @avengerofyourheart @nataliarxmanxva @metalarmproblems @queenbbarnes @carol-damn-vers @imagine-assembling-the-avengers @that-sokovian-bastard @hellomissmabel @abovethesmokestacks @peculiar-persephone @bellameys @beccaanne814 @hymnofthevalkyrie @buckys-shield @callamint @redgillan @angelicthor  @iwillbeinmynest @theassetseyeliner @lilasiannerd @aubzylynn @sgtbxckybxrnes @iamwarrenspeace @marvelrevival @httpmcrvel @avengersnthings @feelmyroarrrr @girl-next-door-writes @honey-bee-holly @patzammit

A/N: Well, our vintage film fest has finally come to an end.. I hope you all enjoyed reading (and possibly watching) all these wonderful movies I mentioned, as they are all very near and dear to my heart in some way or another. And once again, I encourage you guys to watch the movies and shorts I mention in this as they are all wonderful and amazing (heads up though: some of them are silent!) and all can be found on YouTube.

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3

You couldn’t believe that night four was here already. It seemed like just yesterday that the film fest started and you were looking forward to enjoying all these movies and shorts with Steve. But like anything and everything, all good things must come to an end.

When it was time for you and Steve to drive to the theater, you slowly walked to the car while Steve tried to rush you.

“Everything ok, [Y/N]?”

“Yea,” you sighed. “It’s just that I can’t believe that it’s our final night for this.”

Steve gave you a small smile and wrapped you in his arms as a tear slid down your cheek.

“Hey, it’s ok!” he said as he brushed the tear away with his thumb then lifting your chin up so your eyes met. “There will be other festivals to go to. I’ll make sure that we find more.” He gave you a kiss on your forehead and you hugged each other tightly for a couple minutes in the driveway.

“Alright, hun. Let’s go,” he whispered.

The drive over was a quiet one and when the two of you walked in to the theater, it was about half full already. Finding seats close to the middle, you let Steve go get the snacks while you played some games on your phone and patiently waited for him to come back.

Handing you a box of Reese’s Pieces again along with a king sized box of Sour Patch Kids, you looked at him with the biggest smile you could muster.

“Anything to make that smile happen,” he said as he sat down and placed the drinks in the cup holders.

He intertwined his fingers with yours and you placed your head on his shoulder which then prompted him to place a soft, delicate kiss to the top of your head. Your smile got a bit bigger as another tear slid down to the tip of your nose.

You wiped it away and sniffled a bit when the lights went down, it was time for the last night of movies to start. And what a way to start off the last night but with one of Harold Lloyd’s most notable short called An Eastern Westerner.

For you, it was always a delight watching Harold Lloyd, especially his glasses character that they call “The Boy”. There was just something about his all-American persona in that character that you couldn’t quite put your finger on but all you knew what that you loved that character nonetheless.

The theater was quiet until the second title card appeared: “H-o-m-e spells home, but the Boy never did care much for spelling.” which then made the whole audience roar with laughter. And the laughter continued as you all watched the Boy get in trouble over doing the shimmy in a dance hall that prohibited it.

It then became quiet again as you all watched him come home late, get in trouble with his father and get told that he needs to visit his uncle out West where it will get rid of his “wild shenanigans”.

Laughter filled the theater once more when the title card popped up for the town that the Boy was to go: “The little town of Piute Pass. It’s considered bad form to shoot the same man twice on the same day.” But it quickly turned to gasps from the kids as they showed a group of bandits hold up the towns saloon and then over-dramatically get bullied by the saloon owner.

Watching as they showed the Girl, the Boys soon to be sweetheart, get work in the saloon, the Boy chase his ride all the way into town and then try to impress the Girl with rope twirling and horse riding but failing miserably, there were laughs all around.

There were even more laughs when the Boy went into the saloon, almost got shot, got a little to flirty with a dancer, was forced to play a poker game, attempted to roll his own cigarette (and made five instead) and practically cheat at the poker game by disguising himself as a waiter.

(gif credit goes to @ren-field)

Gasps and laughter were mixed during the ending chase scene after the Boy had saved the Girl’s father and the saloon owner got upset over it. But when the ending came, there were aww’s from every corner of the theater as the Boy drew a line across the Girl’s left ring finger.

The first break happened and you and Steve waited patiently for the next one to start. Slowly eating more of your Reese’s Pieces, you decided to stick a few in Steve’s mouth which came with some laughs and much needed hugs.

As soon as the lights went down for the second movie to start and seeing the title card for it immediately put a smile on your face. Charlie’s most famous short called The Immigrant was one of your favorites. His Tramp character could always put a smile on your face no matter how bad you were feeling.

Laughs started right away seeing the Tramp hanging over the side of the boat, making it look like he was seasick until he brought a fish into view, smiling as he held on to his catch then losing it into a sleeping crowd. More laughs happened as he tried to walk on deck but swayed with the boat with each step he took.

Even more laughs came while the audience watched him try to eat dinner in the swaying dining room where he could hardly stand, lost his footing (along with his meal) and immediately fell for a pretty girl on the boat.

Suddenly gasps filled the theater from all the kids as they watched a man steal from a sleeping old lady but the cheers and aww’s rang out when they watched the Tramp give his money to the girl, who happened to be the old lady’s daughter. 

Quietness filled the theater as the audience watched the boat sail into New York’s harbor and the Tramp say goodbye to the girl and her mother. But it was quickly filled with laughter again as the Tramp went to go eat, had a hat issue with the headwaiter, eat his bowl of beans one at a time and have the guy sitting next to him get irritated by it all.

(gif credit goes to @maudit)

Aww’s and smiles came again when the Tramp met the girl from the boat in the restaurant, sitting at the table next to him but quickly turned to gasps as the audience watched a customer get roughed up and thrown out of the place because he was short on his bill.

Laughs came and went even more when the Tramp tried to pay for his and the girl’s food but the coin he had was a fake and he kept falling out of his seat from disbelief whenever the headwaiter tried to grab his shirt collar. But as luck would have it, someone “paid” the bill for them and then the Tramp and the girl got married later that day.

Cheers came as the screen went black and the lights went on. You and Steve each took turns going to the restroom to make sure no one took your spots, even though there wasn’t really an empty seat anywhere.

When the lights went down for the next movie to start, you were happy to see that they had one more Buster movie, called The Passionate Plumber, set up for the festival. This was another one of your favorite talking ones from him, even though it was another MGM film but this was another one of those that Buster fans considered to be good. In fact, some fans considered it to be his best of the talking movies and you certainly did as well.

The laughs were a plenty with this one, starting with Buster’s character, Elmer, going to fix a leaky shower in some fancy dames house but as things usually went, it didn’t go smoothly. The girl’s lover, Tony, caught Elmer in the bathroom and accused Patricia of her having a lover on the side, which caused Tony to get jealous, arrange a duel with Elmer and bring out his gloves, slapping Elmer across the face, which in turn Elmer slapped him using the only thing he had on him; his towel.

Laughs continued when the duel between Elmer and Tony happened, especially when Elmer kept bringing out his glove and slapping everyone. You could hear some sighs throughout the theater when it showed Buster in a polo shirt and one of those deadpan, yet astonishingly beautiful, expressions on his face. One of those sighs even came from you unknowingly and Steve quickly squeezed your hand to make you snap out of your dream state.

“Hey, I thought I was the only one that could make you swoon?” Steve teased. You nudged his arm and smiled, focusing your attention back to the screen. You heard a few gasps from the kids when it showed that Tony had another girl, named Nina, making it seem to her that he was married to Patricia and that he wanted to be with Nina.

But the laughs soon continued for the next 15 minutes as the audience watched Elmer try to show his new gun invention to the French Army General which made it seem like an assassination attempt because he kept having to bring the gun out, trying to get into the casino that the General was in and finally succeeding, causing chaos in the casino as only Buster can after waving his gun around yet agin to the General, then stealing someones car and smashing it, only to have the chauffeur come over screaming and yelling which made Elmer bring out his gloves once more.

The theater then became quiet as you all watched Patricia ask Elmer to help her get rid of Tony by becoming her “make believe” lover. But the laughter filled it yet again when Elmer silently grabbed Tony’s hat to make it look like he just came in and started kissing Patricia, making Tony upset and hitting the top of Elmer’s hat. The laughter got even harder when once again the gloves came out to do more slapping.

Laughs came and went throughout the rest of the movie as you watched Patricia try to leave and be with Tony but Elmer was constantly there making sure she wouldn't be able to go anywhere, Patricia’s aunt coming over for a surprised visit, a small cat fight breaking out between Nina and Patricia to only find out Tony was playing both of them and then Nina and Patricia taking their revenge out on him by throwing anything and everything they could get their hands on, while also Patricia finally telling Elmer that she loved him.

The lights came on and it was time for one more break. You sat quietly in your seat, holding on to Steve’s arm. You sighed which made him give you a kiss on the top of your head and rest his cheek there. He knew that this festival being over so soon was making you sad but he was determined to not make this the only time you two did one.

As the lights went off once more for the second to last film, a smile was quickly brought to your face as the famous intro song to any Laurel and Hardy flick started playing, along with seeing what movie it was; Way Out West, one of their most famous movies.

The audience sat quietly as they watched the owner of a saloon and his saloon-singer wife talk about how if they had enough money, they’d get out of town as fast as possible, then watched her sing and dance for all the people in the saloon.

The chuckles started as soon as Stan and Ollie’s theme played for the next scene as they were shown traveling down the road, Stan on foot leading a mule dragging a travois which Ollie was lying on. But laughter broke out when they came to a river and the travois detached from the mule leaving Ollie stranded in the river and Stan trying to help him out with comic complications as usual. 

The audience watched as the boys hitched a ride into town and both flirted with the woman inside the stagecoach, only to then find out upon arrival that she was the sheriff’s wife and he threatened them to leave on the next coach or they’ll be leaving in a hearse.

The next scene really put a smile on your face as the song “At the Ball, That’s All” started being sung because the famous dance scene between Laurel and Hardy was about to happen. That scene never failed to put a smile on your face. It was one of your absolute favorite parts out of it.

After the audience whooped and cheered when the boys were done with the dance, it became quiet once more until they told the saloon owner that they needed to see Mary, a girl who worked there because her father died leaving her a goldmine and they were to deliver the deed to her in person, upon then gasps broke out from the kids when the saloon owner and his wife hatched a plan that they would take the deed from Mary and keep the gold for themselves. 

Laughter broke out once again seeing that Stan had a hole in the bottom of his shoe and him sticking a piece of meat in it that another customer complained about being “tough as shoe leather” giving Stan the idea to use it for patching the hole, which in turn made Ollie give one of his famous exasperated camera stares.

Some gasps mixed with laugher followed as you all watched the saloon owner and his wife trick the boys into handing over the deed but not before comic complications ensued before handing it over, which included Ollie almost losing the deed and him and Stan taking almost every article of clothing off to find it.

After the boys handed over the deed to the fake Mary, another smile appeared on your face as you knew the next part was another one of your favorites and one that never failed to make you laugh; the boys singing “Trail of the Lonesome Pine” with lip-synched comedy effects from Laurel at one point and his delayed reaction to being knocked in the head with a hammer by Ollie. You loved it so much that you even had the song in one of your music playlists.

Gasps came again when the boys found out that the woman they just gave the deed to wasn’t the real Mary and that they were now determined to get the deed back from the swindlers and hand it over to the real Mary.

As the movie continued, bursts of laughter came and went between the boys trying to retrieve the deed with the first attempt ending up with Stan in massive giggle fits, more threats from the sheriff to get out of town, Ollie falling back into the sink hole in the river, Stan shockingly using his thumb as a lighter then having to eat Ollie’s hat from a bet he made earlier and more attempts to retrieve the deed from the safe at the saloon.

Cheers and applause happened during the end when the boys finally got the deed and escaped with it and the real Mary as well but quickly turned to laughs when once again they cross the river and Ollie fell into the sink hole.

The lights went on again and your heart sank a little deeper, for you knew that the last film of the night and the festival was going to be played right after the lights went down for the final time. It was a bittersweet feeling but you knew that Steve would want the two of you to enjoy something like this again. You sat patiently and waited for the final film.

And what a way to end it! When the lights went down and the last film lit up the screen, you were brought to happy tears seeing what movie they saved for last; Charlie Chaplin’s City Lights, considered one of the greatest films of all time. It was your #1 favorite Chaplin film, one you could never tire of seeing and certainly one that got you emotional every time over the story and how beautifully it played out.

Laughs started almost immediately upon seeing the Tramp sleeping on a new statue that was being revealed to the public. Trying to get off the statue, he gets part of it caught in his pants while then also getting scolded by a police officer and failing miserably for several minutes of getting off of it but finally managing to get away. Chuckles were heard here and there while the Tramp wandered the city and two newsboys taunt him for his shabby appearance, which he rebukes them for and almost has a near-fatal encounter with a sidewalk elevator while admiring a statue in a store window.

The theater got quiet for a bit while seeing the Tramp meet a blind flower girl on the street corner and in the course of buying a flower realizes she’s blind. Quite a few aww’s sounded as the Tramp was instantly smitten. You could’nt help but sigh and smile yourself as you watched the Tramp fall for the girl, let alone the beautiful music that accompanied such a beautiful scene.

It became quiet again with chuckles here and there as the audience watched the Tramp save a drunken millionaire from suicide, the drunk millionaire then save him, the Tramp stop the millionaire’ second suicide attempt then go out for a night on the town and cause trouble in a restaurant till early morning.

You all watched as a now sober Tramp drove the millionaire home the next morning when then he sees the flower girl en route to her street corner. The Tramp gets some money from the millionaire and catches up to the girl, buying all her flowers and drives her home in the millionaire's car but then upon returning to a sober millionaire who remembers nothing of what took place the night before, the Tramp gets thrown out of the house.

Laughter, sighs, aww’s and gasps came throughout the rest of the film as the audience watched the Tramp meet up with the drunk millionaire again, get kicked out the next morning, desperately try helping the blind girl get money for her operation, get fired from his job, try to win prize money for her in a boxing match, encountering the drunk millionaire for a third time and getting money from him for the girl’s operation.

Gasps came from kids all around the theater as they watched two burglars steal the millionaires money while the police believe that the Tramp was the one who committed the crime because after being knocked unconscious the millionaire doesn’t remember giving the Tramp the money. Some yells happened as you all watched the police try to apprehend the Tramp but then get away with enough time to visit the girl and give her the money but quickly turned to whimpers seeing that he told her he was going away for awhile, then was imprisoned.

You squeezed Steve’s arm tightly and had the biggest smile on your face knowing full well that the best scene was about to happen. He looked down at you, smiled and wrapped his arm around you knowing that this was your favorite scene. 

A few sniffles had started here and there in the theater as you all watched the Tramp wander around the city once again after being in jail for months. At this point, you all learn that the flower girl now owns her own flower shop and has had her sight restored but when an elegant man enters the shop she wonders for a moment if her mysterious benefactor, whom she imagines to be rich and handsome, has returned.

By this time, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Sniffles and a few full-on cries were being heard throughout the theater as the audience watched the Tramp walk by the shop, where the girl was arranging flowers in the window. Dabbing your eyes with the tip of your finger, you all watched as he stooped to retrieve a flower discarded in the gutter after a brief run-in with the newsboys from earlier, as he turns to the shop's window through which he suddenly sees the girl, who has been watching him without of course knowing who he is. At the sight of her he is frozen for a few seconds, then breaks into a broad smile. The girl is flattered and giggles then motioning through the glass, she kindly offers him a fresh flower to replace the crushed one he took from the gutter as well as a coin.

Suddenly embarrassed, the Tramp starts to shuffle away, but the girl steps to the shop door and again offers the flower, which he shyly accepts. She takes his hand and presses the coin into it, but abruptly she stops as her smile turns to a look of puzzlement. She runs her fingers along his arm, his shoulder, his lapels, then catches her breath.

 "You?" the tile card reads.

The Tramp nods with an uncertain smile and another title card pops up with him  asking, "You can see now?" 

The girl replies, "Yes, I can see now" and tearfully pulls his hand to her chest. The uncertainty on the Tramp's face turns to joy as the screen faded to black.

Cheers, whoops, yells and whistles filled the theater as it stayed dark with the lights coming on a few seconds later. You and Steve looked at each other, noticing both of you had tear stains running down your cheeks.

“Looks like I’m not the only one to get emotional over that scene,” you playfully said and nudged his arm.

Steve pretended to clear his throat. “I don’t know what you're talking about, [Y/N],” he said as he quickly tried to wipe his face.

“Don’t try that with me, Steven Grant Rogers. I can see through that tough exterior at times.” You gave him a wink and a smile.

He smiled back at you then got up and stretched. Offering his arm, you got up and stretched as well then took his arm and the two of you walked out of the theater. You looked back at the room for a moment and smiled, knowing this was what brought you and Steve together in the first place; a theater playing a black and white movie.

[alphawave-writes]

Prophets and Messengers Chapter 4: Beyond Taste

Synopsis: Sigma must perform the ritual and say goodbye to Harold. But can he really commit to losing the love of his life? And does he have the guts to confess his love before it's too late?

Read it here on or AO3. You guys can also find me on twitter @alphawave13.

If you like my writing, please do support me by buying me a ko-fi, becoming a patron on Patreon or requesting a commission from me.

-

It took some time for Sigma to get everything he needed for the ritual. It could have taken a much shorter time, but the townsfolk were whispering now of the dangerous criminal Dr. Wen. There was now a story to the name, of a man who rose to incredible heights but flew too close to the sun, of a degenerate who used humans and animals as test subjects for his cruel experiments, of a deviant who betrayed his former employer to wreak havoc upon the lands of Oasis. It was a complete fabrication, but it was enough to keep Harold put at the temple, afraid to venture outside.

"They don't know Dr. Wen is you," Sigma said for what felt like the hundredth time.

"But they don't know it's not me," Harold sighed. "Look, I might dress like the people, but it's obvious I'm not from these parts. It didn't take long for people to put two and two together that I'm a foreigner."

"You seem to underestimate the idiocy of the people around us. We have time. It's fine."

Harold lowered his head. The sound of his hands rubbing together nervously made Sigma frown.

"Don't tell me…"

"One of the guards figured out," Harold morosely said.

Sigma felt his heart lurch in his chest. "And…did they say anything?"

"No," he uttered. "They're not going to do anything. It's our little secret. But the fact that he figured it out isn't reassuring. It won't be long before luck and faith runs dry, and I'm strung up for all eternity."

It was a relief that Harold was safe for now, but that brought a new problem. "You know someone needs to go to town to get the last ingredient."

"Can't you ask one of the guards then?"

"They don't have any connection to magic, either innately, learned, or by the generosity of the spirits. People like us are a rarity." Most people learned magic through intensive learning. Few had such natural, innate ability like Harold. Even fewer gained their powers through a pact with the spirits. "Even if they knew what to look for, they won't be able to sense if it's genuine or a dud."

"And just what is it do they need to look for anyway?"

"Aqua vitae ," Sigma turned to Harold. "You might know it as aqueous ethanol."

"Sigma, I'm an alchemist, of course I know what aqua vitae is." Harold frowned. "Does it have to be pure?"

Sigma nodded. "The slightest imperfection will ruin the spell. The person who wrote the original spell was very specific about this detail. Though your spell differs slightly from the texts, by my calculations, I too will need it to be pure."

"But I can't go out there. They'll arrest me," Harold said.

"I know," Sigma grumbled. "I'll have to do it."

"But you're still blind. No amount of spirits and magic can cure that. Not even mine. Not for how long you're going to be out."

"It'll be the first time I've went to town since I found this temple." His lips dipped into a frown. "I must admit, it's been so long I almost forgot how the markets looked like, and what it felt like to be around people." Quieter, he said, "I wonder if they still remember me for the monster I was, and the destruction I brought. I wouldn't blame them." 

Harold tutted his lips slightly, and then he reached out for Sigma's hand. He traced symbols on Sigma's palm, golden energy seeping from his touch, painting the pale skin. From this brief touch, Sigma felt warmth filter through his body as Harold's emotions—happiness, discontent, love—flooded Sigma's mind. He wished he could transmit his own feelings as easily as Harold transmitted his. He knew all the twists and turns in Harold's mind by now, where to go to see exactly the thoughts and feelings when they sprung up. But it didn't work the other way around. Sigma had tried to bridge the gap, to reveal more of himself and his past, but he could never open himself so fully and so willingly as Harold did. If he did, would Harold still love him? Even after all the atrocities he'd caused in the past? 

Harold finished, and Sigma felt a strange sigil emblazoned on his hand, pulsating slowly. Harold lifted his own hand to reveal an identical sigil, its own unique energy throbbing with every bit of blood that pumped around his body. "Tracker spell," Harold explained. "If you get yourself lost or in danger, we'll find each other. Just think of me and the path to me will reveal itself, no eyesight required."

Sigma traced the sigil with his fingers, trying to remember its shape and texture. As he reared his head up, a sudden thought intruded into his mind. He wanted to kiss Harold. He wanted to hold him close, and press their lips together, and sink into a bottomless abyss. But he couldn't. Harold may have said they were soulmates, but even that simple fact wouldn't stop them from drifting away. A spell like this wouldn't help when they're hundreds of miles away, separated by distance and time.

Sigma went to his bedroom and dressed himself inconspicuously for his trip to town. A robe over his body, some feet coverings, and a shawl for good measure. His bandana was removed and left on a dresser, his scarred eyes barely hidden by a dark head covering. It wouldn't hide his identity from everyone, but it might be enough to let him go through the town without attracting too much attention. He bid farewell to Harold, who surprised him with a kiss on the cheek, and then drifted away before Sigma could even say anything, let alone reciprocate. As Sigma left, the noises of clothes and items stuffed into crates reminded him that this happiness was only temporary, and that Harold's departure was imminent.

He walked through the town, trying to blend in with the locals, but it was obvious that wasn't going to happen anytime soon. Without his bandana, he could see the shapes shift and twist, of heads turning in his direction in curiosity, or perhaps fear. He was tall, and he was pale, and he did not belong. No amount of clothes could cover that. A wave of panic made his lungs constrict as he remembered the last time he tried to hide in the crowd, hours after his escape from Talon as he tried to weave his way through the markets in search of safety. His mind shifted, the oppressive darkness of an old memory fading away, the golden light of Harold's form replacing it.

Funny how just thinking about Harold used to get him so pent up, and now it gave him comfort. A small smile flickered on his lips like lightning.

Soon, Sigma found his way to a market stall. It was inconspicuous, nestled between two more popular shops, but for the few mystics in town, it was well known for supplying the best (though not necessarily most legal) products for magic and spells. The owner had not moved his stall since Sigma's last visit, which was a relief. What was not so much of a relief was the new owner; the son of the first owner. He had a lighter voice and a smaller gait, and much sharper features. They tried to sweettalk the other citizens as they tried to hurry on by, but it wasn't working. His voice wasn't as smooth and soothing as Harold's.

No voice could compare with Harold's, Sigma idly thought.

The younger shopkeeper turned to Sigma and chuckled. "I finally get to see you, dear Oracle."

Sigma frowned. "I don't believe we've met," he said in the Iraqi tongue, wincing at his atrocious attempt at the local dialect. He needed to practice more often.

"Your assistant has been to my shop many times, and each time he always tells me stories about you." There was excitement in his voice. "Is it true that you command the spirits?"

"I am here for aqua vitae,” Sigma ignored the comment.

“Yes, yes, Charon sent a message to me earlier. Told me to expect you. I have it here, ready and waiting for you, sir.”

Sigma took the flask the shopkeeper offered and glanced at it. There was a faint magical energy around it, playing a little melody that Sigma recognised. These melodies were like signatures, and this melody was in perfect memory, exactly how he remembered it sounding when he was a fresh-faced scientist. There was no doubt about it. It was pure aqua vitae , bottled and ready for use.

As Sigma counted the amount of coins he needed to pay, he suddenly realized how long Harold had stayed with him. It was short, but it felt far longer than that, like years instead of a month. He almost forgot Charon was the name he went by with most people. He forgot that the name Harold was a special privilege that Sigma alone could wield.

He couldn’t stop the tiny little smile from creeping up his face. The shopkeeper noticed. “He likes you,” he commented.

Sigma bristled. “I-I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Aww, don’t be shy, it’s fine. It’s cool. Love transcends all barriers, don’t it?”

Sigma blushed. He wished love could transcend any barrier, but it wouldn't transcend the barrier that was distance and time. Nothing could. “Perhaps he does,” Sigma finally said.

The shopkeeper grinned. “Does he know you like him too?”

“It’s a bit more than like, and no, he does not know. There’s no reason to tell him. He will be leaving soon.”

“Isn’t that the best time to tell him then?”

Sigma opened his mouth but didn’t have a rebuttal planned. Instead, he paid the man the money he was owed.

The shopkeeper bowed. “Think about what I said, Oracle. I’d hate to lose a paying customer, and I’d especially hate to see you both leave without saying goodbye properly.”

The rest of the journey back to the temple, Sigma just stared at his hand, marveling at the sigil that Harold had crafted for him. The spell was potent, golden waves highlighting the way back home. As he walked, Sigma realised that Harold had done more for him than he did for Harold. He had to amend that mistake. If he could not prove his affection in words, then he shall reveal it with his actions.

The journey to the temple was fortunately uneventful, apart from the few whispers about Dr. Wen. Harold was by the entrance, lips pulled into a smile, but Sigmadid not stop to say hello to Harold. Instead, he beckoned him to the inner most chamber of the temple. A room that even Sigma himself rarely entered.

The prayer room was a hot spot of magical energy. It was so strong that Sigma would often lose the spirits to the many others that inhabited this room. A lot of these other spirits were trapped demons, stored in eternally burning candles that never melted. Others were house spirits, meant to protect the priests and priestesses and their charges. A few were drawn here by the spirits at Sigma's command, hoping perhaps to feed on his mind once Sigma's pact broke. Hot spots like these were rare things, due to the constant movement of the spirits within their realm. Part of Sigma's research had been into the formation of magic hot spots such as this one, but the last time he tried to form one, he ended up losing his eyesight and gaining powers beyond his mortal understanding.

Even with the magic the spirits gave him, it wouldn’t be enough for this spell. Sigma could only perform it here, where the magic was strongest. It gave him the greatest chance of success.

It also gave him the greatest chance of Harold dying if he failed.

Harold put his hand out in front of him, feeling the ebb and flow of the spirit realm’s energy. He drew the tiniest portion in, observing it as it travelled through his body before releasing it.

“I can see why I’ve never seen you in this room before,” Harold chuckled nervously.

Sigma frowned, but concentrated his powers to make the correct summoning circle. The spirits knew what it was, and they had no reason not to betray him. They would be feasting on Harold’s life force. They’d never hunger again, if they did their job correctly.

“This is really happening. You’re going to be making me mortal,” Harold whispered. He didn’t sound happy. In fact, he sound utterly depressed.

“You cannot doubt yourself. This is what you wanted.”

“I…I know this is what I wanted, but I…” Harold trailed off.

Sigma sighed quietly as he approached Harold. He placed his hand on Harold’s shoulder, rubbing it slowly. “I understand this is frightening.”

“It’s not that, it’s just…when I first sought you out I had nothing to live for. All my loved ones will die while I lived on, I’d never get to live in peace because I’d always be chased to the ends of the earth. But then I found you, and suddenly there was something worth living for." He took Sigma's hands into his own. "You reminded me that there's beauty in the world. That every day we live is a gift, and I shouldn't squander the gift I've been given. And…and something else."

Sigma felt Harold's breath on his cheek and realised they had both leaned in unconsciously, centimetres away from each other's faces. "W-what is this something else?"

"You know already." Harold's lips twitched into a frown. "Do I really have to spell it out to you?"

Sigma wanted to say no, but that would be a lie. The strings between their bodies had reappeared, pulsating with energy. Sigma plucked one, but instead of that familiar feeling of hands on his most sensitive parts, now he felt something else. Something soft and malleable, pressing against his lips. If he opened his mouth, he might even taste something sweet flicker around the cavern of his mouth before plunging deep into his throat. It'd taste magnificent, like the nectar of the gods.

Harold let go of Sigma's hands, only for his fingers to creep up the fabric of his bodysuit. His palms were flat against Sigma's chest, their magical energies swirling and spiraling.

Sigma felt his throat constrict. "You…you can't."

"I'm sorry," Harold whispered.

"You have to go after this, I…I don't deserve this. I don't deserve you."

"It's not about whether either of us deserve it or not. I want you. I need you." He stroked Sigma's face. "Please, Siebren. One more time, before I go."

Sigma so wanted to give in to Harold's touch. In another life, maybe he could. In this life however, he gently guided the hands down, letting Harold's emotions and memories fade away from his mind. "W-we cannot. I cannot. We have a ritual to perform, and…and if you don't want me to do it, speak now or forever hold your peace."

Harold stared at Sigma for several seconds, and then several more.

"Harold?" Sigma whispered.

"I thought...I thought you wanted me too. I thought we were soulmates." The golden energy that surrounded his body dimmed slightly. "I guess it doesn't matter anymore."

"Harold..."

"Do it then, the spell," he said. His voice was completely devoid of life. "Make me mortal."

Sigma frowned. "Are you su—"

"I said, do it." His voice crackled with emotion. "Just…just do it already and I'll get out of your hair. That's what I hired you to do anyway, isn't it?"

Sigma knew this was wrong, but he had to live with it now. He ordered Harold to stand in the centre of the salt circle, let the spirits flow their magic through his body, closed his eyes, and began the chant.

The candles and items that he had prepared began to rattle, his tongue rattling off words in Dutch. The spell could work in any language, but he had to recall the spell perfectly with no flaws or stutters. He'd practiced and practiced until his throat was sore, and he knew he could perform it perfectly. If Harold broke the salt circle, Harold would be fine but the trapped demons would leave and the room would lose its magical essence and they'd never be able to perform the spell again. If Sigma faltered, the room would keep its essence, but the trapped demons would attack, taking as much life essence as their starving mouths would muster.

Harold followed along with Sigma, chanting when asked to, performing certain actions when ordered to, but he did it all without his usual vigour. Sigma tried not to falter, but he couldn't help but think about the consequences. If he succeeded in this spell, Harold would leave. If he failed the spell, Harold would be dead or he'd leave. He tried to consult the spirits and get a glimpse into his own future, but they remained silent, refusing to give him even an offer.

Sigma was trapped to a life of loneliness, and he could not live like this again. Not when Harold brightened up the desolate hallways, making the temple smell and feel and taste like a home. Not when Harold kept him warm in the inside and out, making him feel safe and loved.

Everything was beginning to rattle. The spirits had emerged, in plain view despite Sigma's blindness, flitting about the room in a circle, obeying Sigma's command. On Sigma's order, they'll feast on Harold's lifestream, and on Sigma's order they'll retreat, taking just enough for Harold to live the rest of his natural life, give and take a year according to Sigma's calculations.

It was just one action. One thing to do. This action will determine the course of their lives forever.

"Sigma?" Harold asked.

There was a spot of wetness underneath Sigma's bandana, dripping down to stain his cheeks. His throat felt tight and his muscles screamed for him to stop. But why? Why couldn't he do it? Why couldn't he make Harold mortal? Why couldn't he just let Harold drift out of orbit, never to be heard or felt again?

This wasn't what Harold wanted. Was this what Sigma wanted?

"Siebren?" Harold whispered.

Sigma felt the world shatter around him, and then he stepped forward, displacing the salt circle and breaking the spell. Harold cowered as the spirits let out a deathly screech, angry at this betrayal, but Sigma used his magic to summon a barrier between them. The spirits tried to attack, but they weren't quick enough, Sigma deploying and redeploying the barrier, taking in beat after beat of destructive energy. After a minute of this relentless onslaught, the demons left the chamber, leaving it hollow but safe. The hot spot was no more.

Sigma huffed a breath in exertion, and then he heard the sound of Harold's footsteps approaching him. He expected Harold to grab him and push him to the wall, pressing his hands into Sigma's broad shoulders. He did not expect it to hurt as much as it did.

"W-why did you do that?"

"I-I couldn't do it. I couldn't let you be mortal."

"But why?" Harold asked.

"Because I…I…" Sigma grunted, unable to speak as more tears flowed down his cheeks. He suddenly knew why it was so hard to open up. He was scared of what Harold would see beneath the surface, scared that Harold might hate him. Fear had constricted him like a python, making him weak and foolish. That was what it was, wasn't it? He was weak, and foolish, and totally undeserving of the warm radiant light that was Harold Winston.

Harold's hands were on his face, pulling the bandana up to look at his tearful eyes. "Tell me," he whispered.

"I…" Sigma knew he couldn't say it in words. But maybe he could show it in another way. Slowly he cradled Harold's face, letting his fingers feel his nose, his eyelids, his maddening little stubble, and then finally his lips.

He loved Harold, he thought to himself, as he leaned forward and pressed a slow kiss to Harold's lips.

Harold gasped, not expecting the intrusion but not fighting it either, his lips parting to let his tongue peek out, slithering to the slit between Sigma's lips, pushing it open. Within the cavern of Sigma's mouth, he flicked his tongue to the roof, behind his teeth, trailing every sensitive part reverently. Sigma didn't hold back, gasping into Harold's kiss. He wanted—no, needed Harold to know what he felt. Harold needed to know everything about him. He couldn't hide anymore.

Sigma suddenly grabbed Harold by the shoulders, flipping them over so that he was pressing Harold into the wall instead. Harold moaned, his own hands trailing down Sigma's chest, past his stomach to cup his groin. He was crying too, and Sigma kissed Harold's salty tears away. He wanted to remember Harold's taste, Harold's texture, Harold's scent. The way he moaned lowly and the way he looked and the way he felt so perfectly in his arms. He wanted to remember it all, he needed to remember it all. He loved him too much.

"I love you," Harold said suddenly, making Sigma moan shamefully.

"D-don't," Sigma whimpered.

"You love me too," Harold said, awestruck.

Sigma nodded quickly, lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't want you to go."

"Then come with me," he breathed.

Sigma blinked rapidly, his eyes clouded with tears. "I…how?"

Harold dug his hand into a secret pocket of his robes and took it out for Sigma to see. Even from this close, Sigma couldn't see the contents very well, but there was a huge amount of magical energy surrounding it, a haunting melody that defied all description. Sigma had never encountered such a thing in his life, but somehow he knew instantly what it was. The elixir of immortality. A potion for eternal life.

His eyes widened. "H-Harold…"

"Be immortal with me," Harold whispered. "We can be together forever. We'll never be apart."

"No…" Sigma whispered.

"We'll explore the world, I'll guide you along. I'll tell you what everything looks like. We can be together, we can do anything, and if it doesn't work out, we can start all over again."

"Do you really think you can love me for eternity?"

"I know I will," Harold said quietly. "I've seen you for who you are." He wiped a stray tear from Sigma's cheek with his thumb. "You keep forgetting I'm magical, Siebren. I can see into your mind too. I've seen the work you did as a scientist, the royals you worked for, the lives you helped. I've seen the ritual that cost you your sight, the way you flew too close to the sun in the pursuit of discovery. I know you fought tooth and nail to escape your tormentors, who sought to use your powers for evil. I know you care what others think about you, and I know you care about me."

"I'm scared," Sigma admitted. "I'm not the great Oracle the people think I am. I used to be great, back when I was Siebren, but I'm not that man anymore. I'm old, and I'm blind, and I'm fragile, and I'm weak. I don't deserve your love, and I don't deserve immortality."

"But you love me?" Harold breathed.

"Of course I do," Sigma whispered, equally as breathless. "For as long as I breathe, I will love you. But I can't accept your gift. And as much as I would love to, I can't run away with you."

Harold's eyes went cloudy as he stared at Sigma's lips. "So…so what do we do then?" He asked quietly.

Sigma felt Harold's cheek. "We remember each other. One last time."

Harold lowered his head but nodded. "One more time."

Harold moved to touch Sigma, but Sigma used his powers to pull Harold's hands above his head, returning the elixir of immortality back into Harold's pocket. He felt Harold's robes, trailing down to the edge near the bottom, exposing Harold's half-hard cock. He squirmed slightly in surprise, but didn't make a sound as Sigma captured his lips once again, his hand wrapping around the shaft and sliding up and down slowly. Sigma wanted to prolong this as much as he could. He wanted to remember Harold.

There was an explosive wave of emotions as Harold kissed back passionately, mitigating Sigma's powers long enough to wrap his arms tightly around Sigma's shoulders. Unlike before where it was a heap of emotions that overwhelmed Sigma's senses, now there were only two: sadness and love. The strings reappeared before their bodies and with his other hand, Sigma stroked them. Their bodies shivered at the same time as warm fingers trailed down the small of their back. As Harold panted, small begs and moans spilling eagerly, Sigma knew they were feeling the same thing. Their minds were truly one now.

Sigma played the strings like a harp, and a wave of hands—Harold's hands—touched his ass, pressing their slick heat into his puckered hole. Harold inhaled sharply, lips pulled up into a tight smile as the same thing happened to him.

"What do you feel?" Sigma asked, even though he knew exactly what Harold was feeling.

"Hot," Harold breathed. "Glorious. Ecstatic." He let out a small gasp as the invisible fingers breached past the band of muscle. " Everything ."

Sigma couldn't help but smile through the tears as he stroked the strings, letting the phantom hands caress their bodies and press their fingers further into their ass. Like their owners, the hands were hungry, pinching and twisting nipples, rubbing thighs and cocks, pressing lightly against their throats. Sigma captured Harold's lips again, and again, trails of saliva spilling down to Sigma's hand, which was still stroking Harold's cock at a moderate pace, spreading precum. It was so much at once, but Sigma relished in this feeling. For Harold, he'd give anything and everything. He was sure that Harold knew that too.

Sigma knew Harold was close, because he was getting close himself. He opened his mouth to ask, but Harold must have known, because his fingers dug into Sigma's shoulders, his body shaking in anticipation, or perhaps even desperation.

"I love you," Sigma groaned.

"I know," Harold huffed. "I love you."

"I know," Sigma said.

"I love you," Harold continued, knowing that it'll send spark after spark flying through Sigma's body. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

"Harold," Sigma whimpered.

"Siebren," Harold sighed.

Their mouths met, the strings vibrated, Harold moaned, and Sigma couldn't help but feel like the universe was guiding him to this euphoric, perfect moment. Their orgasms combined into one being, taking the strength out of their lungs as sticky lines dribbled in the space between them, staining the floor. Sigma wanted to collapse, wanted to fall asleep with Harold by his side, but Harold held him up before he might actually do so.

It took Harold a long time to let go of Sigma. Sigma, even longer to let go of Harold. They stared at each other, gazing into red-rimmed eyes, and then they held each other again and laughed, joyfully, tearfully, tragically.

Harold ran his thumb over Sigma's scars, a small smile playing on his lips. His hair was mussed up, and his glasses were tilted, and he was still only shapes and colours, but Sigma thought he was the most beautiful person in the world.

"Harold," Sigma said.

"Siebren, I…" Harold's eyes widened as he suddenly scrambled to clean himself up, a wave of panic transmitting through his touch.

Sigma barely heard the spirits warning of danger when the sound of glass breaking and candles bursting into flame surrounded his senses. There were footsteps, so many footsteps, and they were pointing weapons at him. Sigma summoned the hyperspheres, the weapons granted to him by the spirits for his servitude, but they were never meant to fight so many men at once. He hoped they didn't know that. Perhaps the act of intimidation might be enough to ward off the attackers.

There was one pair of footsteps that weren't like the rest. The click of heels on the stone floor. Sigma felt his face fall.

"Dr. de Kuiper," Lady O'Deorain said. "You've been lying to me."

Sigma unconsciously put a hand in front of Harold. Golden energy could faintly be felt behind him, growing in intensity. "Don't do this," Harold started.

"This is for the name of progress," she uttered.

"I won't let you touch him," Sigma growled, blocking Harold from Lady O'Deorain and her band of assassins.

"You won't?" Moira tutted her lips. "Do you realise how much I've done for you, letting you live here like this? If you disobey me, I will take you back to the organisation. Talon won't be so kind with their treatments, I can assure you."

Sigma remembered the serums and potions, the ones that tortured his body and soul. A spike of fear rose up but he thought of Harold, and successfully quelled it. "You can't touch Harold."

"I believe it's Dr. Wen, actually. Or at least, that's what they say on the posters," Moira said. "Even if you escape me, the whole city knows who he is now. A lot of people will kill for the bounty that's been put up. Even I think it's a tad excessive, but any bit of money is useful in the name of progress and research. I'm sure you understand, Dr. de Kuiper."

Harold gritted his teeth, the energy around his body growing brighter, bigger. Harold's hand brushed against Sigma's, and for a split second Sigma saw Harold's thoughts. His eyes widened microscopically, too small for anyone to notice. Did he really trust Harold this much to place his life in his hands?

"Surrender Dr. Wen, and I will let you continue to live your life in peace here." Her lips curled into a smirk. "I'll even let you have the bounty money. You'll be financially stable for the rest of your life, no need to interact with those insects we call people. You can pursue whatever research you want. You'll never have to suffer again."

Sigma turned to Harold, fear and shock stricken across his face. It was a crazy plan Harold had in mind. A stupid one. An insane one. And yet despite this, he trusted Harold.

After all, Harold was so willing to give up his life for Sigma. It was time to return the favour.

Now, Sigma mouthed.

The strings of gravity at everyone's feet began to glow golden, and suddenly a burst of power surged up, striking their bodies. A wave of indescribable pain shot up Sigma's body as he collapsed on the ground alongside everybody else. The voice of the spirits was fading. The world was spinning, getting darker by the second. And yet for a brief moment he saw Harold in perfect clarify, eyes wide open, lips agape as he rushed over to Sigma's side.

Harold fiddled with his robes until he found the vial, trying to open it with his shaky hands. Sigma wanted to protest, wanted Harold to leave him there to die, but he was too weak to speak. He was too close to Harold, physically and emotionally, and it was this very reason that he was now dying. Staring up at Harold, Sigma thought he wouldn't mind dying right then and there. Harold was holding his body so carefully, tears beading in his beautiful brown eyes, his touch screaming of love despite the horror and sadness. With the rest of Sigma's strength, he slowly moved his hand up to wipe the tears away from Harold's eyes, marvelling at how they glittered for him alone.

There was a pop, and then warm hands enclosed around Sigma's jaw, pulling his lips and mouth open. Liquid flowed down Sigma's lips to his throat, and it tasted absolutely vile, but Harold was massaging his throat, forcing him to swallow. His body protested, trying to cough the poison out, but he was too weak to even do that. Sigma felt a dreadful tiredness overcome his body, and he collapsed, faintly aware that Harold was holding onto his hand, confessing his love over and over like a prayer to the gods themselves.

At least he told Harold that he loved him, Sigma thought as he finally succumbed, falling into a dreamless sleep.

[all-the-love-harold]

What about Harry talking about his wife or gf at one of his shows and he get super emotional, and like idek where this is going. But he starts telling her how much he loves and appreciates her and she’s crying in the audience and it’s just a really cute moment

Drabble #10

“Good Evening, I’m Harry, I’m from England”

*cheers*

“Could I get the house lights up please”

*lights go up*

“Wow, you all look incredible tonight, how we doing up theback?”

*cheers from the back*

“Wonderful, how about down the front”

*cheers from thefront* *winks at you in the front row*

“And what about you guys in the middle?

*cheers*

“Hot? It looks hot in there *cheers*”

Harry was nearing the end of his tour and this is the firstshow that you had gotten the chance to see. You were very excited to be there,and he was over the moon to have you there. You had come by yourself, makingsure that you were in the front row, which in hindsight may not have been thebest idea because Harry kept getting distracted, so far, he had only performedthree songs and spent the entire time making eyes at you.

“I’d like to thank you all so much for coming and spendingtime with me tonight, you being here means the absolute world to me. Now my jobfor the next hour and a little bit is to entertain you, your job is to have asmuch fun as you can, if you want sing, you want to dance, please be whoever youwant to be, whoever you are in this room, this is for you my love *dimples atyou*

The first few notes of Sweet Creature echoed through thevenue and you felt yourself tearing up already, it was a song that meant a lotto you and Harry both, and although you’d heard him play it a thousand timesbefore the album came out, hearing him sing it in a room full of people singingit back brought a whole new meaning to it and it was in that moment that yourealised why he loved touring so much. When you arrived, you introducedyourself to the fans around you, some of them knowing who you were the minutethey saw you, others, not really caring. All of them were lovely, especiallyBob, who had also come alone and was thrilled to meet you and freaked everytime harry looked in your direction.

*Only Angel Intro* You’re going to have to step it up now,I’m looking at you Y/N, I want to see you dance, I want to see you all dance!

When Only Angel ended Harry took the mic off the stand, andwalked over to where you were standing in the crowd

“Now, are we having a good time?!”

*cheers*

“Good, I’m having a great time! I’m very lucky to have mybeautiful girlfriend here in the audience tonight, she’s right here, in frontof me”

*fans squish towardsY/N*

“Hey hey hey, don’tmob her, you break her, I break you, got it?”  

Alright, moving on, it’s very colourful out there tonightand it is truly wonderful to see so much love in the room, if everyone couldplease find someone to dance with for the next few songs, that would be great.

“Since I can’t dance with H, I guess I’ll have to settle foryou” you said to Bobby

“I’m not going to say no!”

Seeing that you’d found someone to dance with Harry made hisway over to your area of the crowd

“You sir, are dancing with my girlfriend, what’s your name? Robby?No? Bobby? Bob! Well, Bob you watch yourself there, I’m watching you”

*Woman* (During instrumental) “DANCE!” he screamed as heleant down and asked the security guard to let you come on stage, holding hishand out to help you up.

“Ladies and Gentleman Y/N Y/L/N!!” Normally, being on stagein front of that many people would have intimidated you, but with Harry there, dancingthe same way that he does in your living room in nothing but his underwear, youforgot about the crowd and joined him, looking like an idiot but having thetime of your life. When the song ended, he kissed you gently on the foreheadand you made your way back to your spot in the audience.

For the next few songs you and Bobby had the time of yourlife, singing and dancing along. You knew how much Harry enjoyed performing,and seeing him up there having the time of his life made your heart swell withpride

After singing kiwi for the second time, Harry once againgrabbed the mic and made his way over to you

“This is my last song”

*collective aww”

“I’ve only got 10 songs….” He shrugged “before I go, I wouldlike to take a second to thank everyone for coming, because without you, Isimply would not be here, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you and pleasedrive home safely, I would also like to take a second, to thank Y/N, who hasbeen the most incredible support throughout this whole thing, she came with meto Jamaica to record the album and kept my head screwed on straight when wewere struggling to write good songs, she sat next to me as I wrote this nextsong, and without her to keep me going, the album probably wouldn’t have happened,she’s one of the nicest people I have ever had the privilege of knowing and shetruly deserves the world, So Y/N,” he turns and looks at you “Thank you, foreverything you are, I love you very much, this one is for you” Turning back tothe rest of the audience “Here’s Sign of the Times”

I think about this way too much because it’s such a sweet thought, so thank you so much for the request! Please feel free to send more in!!  Special shout out to @hs-1dfan, @harold-can-fly @thisstylesguy @harryslittlekiwis  @harrywavycurly and the rest of my sweet creature crew who helped me find these GIFS and are just generally wonderful people, who I love dearly xxx

Requests! 

Master list 

[newsiegirlscout]

Nerdsitting

Tagging time! As well as explaining what the heck I’m doing with this mess of a fanfiction! Yeah!

@vizivoir, Special delivery! (They asked to be tagged so as not to miss it, and tagged they will be!) 

@sugarandmemories, I may or may not have borrowed your Melvin’s insomnia, neglectful parents ((Yeah, guys. In the books, they actually were there, they just didn’t pay much attention to him. He even switches off the “Dramatic Effects” on the Combine-o-Tron so as not to wake them up.)), and slight eating disorder. Ahaha..the chance was too good to pass up.  Please don't sue. :) ;)

As for what I’m doing, I don’t really know. It’s fluff. It has George and Harold subliminally taking care of Melvin...you know, making him eat something, cheering him up when he’s down, getting him off that good ol’ polyphastic sleep schedule. Ergo, Nerdsitting. Enjoy!

Melvin Sneedly had just wanted to pick up the latest issue of Scientific American at the Hobnobs Comix Shop downtown before the quality deteriorated or the magazines sold out. Was that so hard to ask?

Apparently, according to the universe, it was.

When a bald, portly man wearing nothing but his underwear and a red polka-dotted cape fell out of the sky and dropped to one knee, Melvin completely lost his train of thought and instead decided to take a tentative step back. On the man’s back, two of the more mischievous students in his class beamed back at him, giving a polite wave.

“Hey, Melvin!” George chimed.

“Do you always greet people this way?” He wheezed, slamming one hand to his chest in shock.

“What, ‘Hey’ and then his name? Dude, is this a trick question?” Harold said softly, tugging George’s shirt.

“I think he means on the back of a superhero wearing nothing but his underwear and a polka-dotted red cape.” the boy responded. Climbing off, he gestured regally to the caped crusader, followed closely by his best friend.

“Melvin, this is Captain Underpants. You may remember him from that time you tried to rid the entire school of laughter.” George said. Captain Underpants stood up and gave a happy “thumbs-up” at his cue.

“Anyway. We thought we’d stop by. Didn’t think we’d see you at the comic store! What’cha getting?” Harold added.

Taking another step back, Melvin clutched the strap of his backpack instinctively before responding.

“I was just going to see if I could acquire the latest copy of Scientific American before it sold out...but now, I think I’ll go home and take my chances tomorrow.”

“Ah, that’s a shame, young nemesis,” Captain Underpants chimed in, “For my amiable sidekicks and I might provide delightful company in your education! Why, they themselves have documented several episodes of my life in this praiseworthy format!”

“You mean the comic books they sell on the playground, in which I tend to be frequently incriminated as some sort of nerdy villain against laughter?”

“Sidekicks! You didn’t tell me that you knew the one and only Anti-Humor boy personally!” he gasped excitedly. “Will you sign my cape?” he said to Melvin with a slight bounce.

Melvin shrugged and produced a black Sharpie from his pocket, much to the delight of the hero. Walking around him, he wrote out “Anti-Humor boy” in his careful cursive, then patted the delighted captain on his back.

“Now, off to Dumb Stupid Nerd Jail for you!” he cheered, hooking his fingers into the startled scientist’s neckband.

“Captain Underpants! Melvin...received time off for good behavior! He’s totally cool now!” George blurted in a panic, pressing the side of his sneaker into his ample stomach as if he were trying to stop a wild colt. To Melvin, he added, “Sorry, man. You..wanna come hang out with us for a while? We have a tree house!”

“It’s a pretty cool tree house.” Harold added, cracking a grin.

“Ummm...yeah, I still think I’ll pass. Call me again when I’m in the mood for getting made fun of for a full hour or two.” he said, walking off.

“Aww, Melvin, don’t be like that! Isn’t your house like, two miles away, anyway? We can totally give you a ride to the amazing Tree House Comix Inc., you can chill with us, spend a few hours playing Tetris or drawing nerd comics or something, and then we could take you back home!” Harold explained, hastily putting brown, white, and light orange button-eyed socks on his hands and right foot respectively to illustrate his vision. (The tangerine sock, Melvin noted, even sported a sported a tiny black bow tie and ginger woolen hair.)

“Or,” he continued as George gave Melvin a look that seemed to reveal that Harold had drawn out points with improvised sock puppetry before, “You could get your magazine and go back home.” The light orange sock puppet, to Melvin’s amusement, switched places with Harold, tucked a tiny bubblegum comic that he supposed was supposed to be the four hundred and fifty-third issue of Scientific American under his cotton arm and left, leaving sock puppet George and Harold giving each other blank expressions.

“You’d want to read it as soon as possible, but put it in your bag so you wouldn’t walk in front of a bus or something, and then you’d walk two sad endless miles without a friend, sadly listening to-you were listening to music, right?-sad music as you trudged home. Sadly.”

To emphasize this point, Harold took an extra few steps away from Captain Underpants for some unknown reason, then poured a miniature watering can over a dejected sock puppet Melvin, accompanied by a melancholy classical tune from his phone.

“And then you’d get home,”

The music stopped and the watering can was thrown to the side.

“Read the magazine, and die of sadness and boredom, and that’s why you need to hang out with us and have a ton of fun today!”

Melvin smiled slightly and shook his sock puppet counterpart’s hand.

“Deal.”

“To the Underwear Cave!” Captain Underpants cheered, kneeling down again.

“He means to our tree house.” Harold whispered, swinging back onto the superhero’s back and offering his hand to Melvin, who took it gratefully. 

On the ride back, George and Harold filled him in on everything. 

“Okay, so..Captain Underpants can’t get water on his head. Don’t ask.”

“He’s also a total goofball and wants to fight crime whenever possible. As in, if you have five extra minutes, he’ll be convinced that there’s some sort of crime going on somewhere. And there usually is...it’s kinda like how the little kid summoned all the demons to the hotel with his sixth sense in that one movie? Yeah, like that.”

“You okay, Melvin? You look a little freaked out...I know, the first ride is always a bit weird. You ever jumped out a window and slid down a lamppost before?”

“Why would I ever have done that? I mean...Oh no. Don’t tell me that you two have done that. Scratch my last question, how many times did you do that?”

“Um...a lot?” Harold laughed nervously, “Uh...do you wanna text your parents, let ‘em know you’re at our place?”

“They’re working late at the lab all week. Ciana and I are left to fend for ourselves, I’m afraid.” 

“Oh. I see. Well, that’s great, because we’re already here!” Harold said, giving another flourish to the tree house. Several mechanisms were affixed to various places, presumably meant to help one scale the tree in a much more complicated way than necessary. 

“How fast does Captain Underwear fly, exactly? Because this seems less like coincidence that we landed right now, and more like lazy writing on the author’s part.” Melvin said, adjusting his bow tie.

“Yeah...she does that. Consider your flight twice as fast with the right dialogue!” Harold said, ably climbing up the wooden steps, followed closely by George, then Melvin. Once inside, Harold excitedly pointed out the sleeping bags, mini fridge, comic gallery, television, and gaming system. 

“Oh...wow.” Melvin responded, his hazel eyes flashing with jubilee.

“So...what’cha wanna do?” 

“Well, you wouldn’t happen to have a deck of cards around, would you?”

George cocked his head, surprised by the ginger’s simple request. “Um..yeah, we have cards!” he said, withdrawing a deck from his pocket, “I should warn you though, I hold a pretty tight spot as Go Fish champion.”

“Oooh, Billy’s pretty good at Concentration, too.” Harold added. 

“Do either of you know how to play poker? I mean, not necessarily for gambling reasons, but...” he paused to withdraw a small drawstring sack from his bag, pulling the cord and tipping it over the floor to reveal a shimmering stream of chocolate coins, a small confectionery fortune by his feet, “for chocolate coins?”

“Awww, bro! This is probably the best thing you’ve ever done! No offense, I just...didn’t think you’d go for gambling and stuff. Even fake gambling. Or chocolate. Orrrr fun.” Harold said, his voice dropping off as he twisted his hands against his shirt.

A week before his third-grade graduation, Melvin looked up from his book to see a group of children in the cafeteria trading candy cigarettes. “Hey! You four are violating Rule #7,438: Section Five: ‘Smoking of cigarettes on campus is strongly prohibited! Note: Even if they aren’t lit! Note: Even if they’re candy cigarettes!’ I’m telling!”

“Awww, man.” They said, tucking the packs into their lunchboxes dejectedly. 

*****

“Well, I’m up for it in any case.” Harold responded, “I’m also about to go get a sandwich-either of you two want one?”

“I’ll take one!” George said, fanning out the deck, “I’m starving!”

Melvin politely declined, earning a look of confusion from both of the troublemakers. The truth was, in fact, that he had been so caught up with his studies that he hadn’t eaten in days; even when he and his sister ordered dinner, he would take a slice of pizza up to his room, then generally put it on top of a bookshelf, forget about it, and leave it for Danderella. At school, he never so much forgot his lunch as the desire to eat it; every time since Monday, he had felt a peculiar weight in his stomach, telling him to stuff it in his locker, to give it to somebody else, just to continue with his extra-credit assignments. That was the important thing, most of all-the extra credit was worth it, worth the fatigue and distorted rhythm of his perfected order to life, worth the trembling in his legs, all for the extra plus on his A’s, the smiles on his teachers’ faces, the extra cache he relied on when he stuttered during an oral report or rushed his penmanship in a five-page essay, earning him a docked half-point or so. 

Besides, eating was a waste of time that could be better dedicated to his research.

Still, Harold came back a few minutes later carrying an extra dish between the two in his hands, the rim meticulously balanced on the edges of the other two. Propping one knee under the paper plates, he passed out the sandwiches to all three of them in turn. 

“For Monsieur George”, he said, faking a French accent, “Your peanut butter and gummy worm sandvich, vith cold can of ze finest Mountain Dew, as well as light side of chips.” 

“Why, Mr. Hutchins, this is a rather delightful spread.” George said, feigning the voice of a luxuriously wealthy diner in a black-and-white film.

“And for Monsieur Melvin, ve have ze freshly pressed grilled cheese sandvich vith Dr. Pepper and chips. How do you like?” 

Melvin took the tray and aligned the neatly cut sandwich to a more aesthetically pleasing angle relative to the soda and Doritos bag. “Oh, uh..thanks for the sandwich I didn’t actually ask for?”

Harold broke out of his waiter impression for a moment. “Sorry, I didn’t explain this one. It’s a goofy tradition we have- you have to respond in a fancy accent.”

Melvin nodded slightly, then replied in a Russian voice, “Okay, I get it now. But my waitering friend, I have not placed an order!”

“Ah, vell, I fear ve have made an extra sandvich anyhow. So..you might as well take it, compliments of ze Tree House Gahden-Gahdens.” 

He grinned and sat down at his place, carefully arranging his hand of cards and setting down his own tuna salad-chocolate chip-miniature marshmallow sandwich with Sprite and Fritos. 

Melvin took a bite of the sandwich, and it tasted like...well, like a regular grilled cheese sandwich, but like something more at the same time. Something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. 

“Did you use oregano in this?”

Harold winked, swallowing a bite of his own lunch before speaking. “Original Hutchins recipe.”

#########

“So, Melvin...do you have a hobby besides Science-y stuff and card games?” George asked.

“I make papercraft modules, play World of Warcraft, collect little tin cars, alphabetize everything, sort laundry by color in rainbow order, lightest to darkest...lots of stuff. Why?” he asked. 

“Eh. Just seeing if you do anything cool. Which you don’t.”

“What?”

George shrugged. “I call ‘em like I see ‘em.”

“O-kay...so, what do you two do for fun, besides card games, getting into trouble, and making comics?”

“Not much. Mostly just laugh at silly stuff and hang out in the club house. Skateboarding. Watching TV. Playing video games. That sort of thing.”

“How did you hook a television up to your club house?”

“Oh, it’s pretty interesting, actually!” Harold interjected, “You see, Mr. Beard built the basic layout, but one summer we actually earned so much money from odd jobs that we bought a second-hand television from somewhere, screwed a power outlet to the underside of the house, and hooked it up ourselves! Creative thinking, huh?”

“Mm-hmm..” Melvin said distractedly. “You two realize we’ve spent four and a half hours playing card games, video games, and goofing off?”

“Welcome to summer vacation, genius!” he said, nudging the scientist in the shoulder.

“Yeah..but it’s a two-hour walk back to my house, and given the time-” he paused to gesture to the hands on his watch cocked at 10:28-”I should probably start heading back. So, if you’ll excuse me-” he started to climb down the wooded steps of the tree house- “I’ll go. Thanks for having me over.” 

“Hang on!” Harold said, jumping off the top platform, grabbing one of the sturdier branches, and gently sliding down to the grass, “I’ll ask my dad to give you a ride! We’ve never seen your house anyway-is it like, a mansion or something?”

George straddled the rope of the tire swing and slid down, remaining on top of the tire. “Yeah, maybe it’s a science lab! Or an apartment!”

Harold looked at his black-haired friend peculiarly. 

“How is an apartment interesting?”

“It could be a nice apartment!” he retorted. “Or maybe one with a ton of secret passageways and a chocolate chandelier!” 

“I live in a pretty boring house, you two.” Melvin chuckled softly, “Though of course, I wouldn’t decline a ride, if it wouldn’t bother your parents too much.”

“Oh yeah, no! Not at all!” George responded, running inside and reemerging with his father, who ruffled Melvin’s hair with only a slight bit of annoyance not directed at him, but rather, at being interrupted while he was reading his favorite novel. (And he’d just gotten to the good part, too.)

“So, you’re the Sneedly kid who needs a ride, right?”

“Yes, sir. I apologize for bothering you this late, just-”

“Well, there’s no need to apologize, little fella! My son says you live way out of this neighborhood, is this true?”

“Well, yes, you could say that.” he responded, fingering the edge of his pressed sweater.

“May I ask for your address?”

“It’s 1123 Wilson Way, sir.”

“Oh, okay! Well then, you boys buckle up for the Beardmobile! Harold, do you want a ride home too?”

The blond giggled slightly at the question, almost involuntarily. “Yes, Mr. Beard. Thank you!”

############

He had expected the trip to be awkward, that he’d be staring at his hands the whole way until George’s father let him off, but after forty-five minutes of conversation, Melvin found that he didn’t mind it so much after all.

When they finally stopped at the address, the mischief-making duo stepped out after him, each giving some sort of salute to their chauffeur.

“Are you two planning to move in?” Melvin asked bemusedly, “ Because I’m not sure you quite fit the...atmosphere.”

In unison, George and Harold both bowed deeply to the ginger, acting the part of a high-class attendant. 

“Vy, Mr. Sneedly, ve came as escorts to see your fancy house!” George said, faking the second faux French accent and hooking his arm in Melvin’s.

“It is the least ve could do for a friend in need at-” Harold said, taking the boy’s skinny wrist gently in his hands and glancing at his watch-”11:15 at night!”

Melvin rolled his eyes and smiled. 

“ Vous êtes deux fous. Je suis honoré d'être considéré comme votre ami.”

“...I have no idea what you just said.”

#########

Up in his bedroom, the boys dropped their arms and simultaneously dropped to one knee, giving an over-dramatic grand sweeping gesture.

“Your room, Mr. Sneedly?” Harold said, cracking a grin.

“Yes, yes, you have both been fine escorts. Now please, leave so I may continue research.” he said, in imitation of a wealthy person while struggling not to smile.

“Ah, but school starts at like, 6:00 AM! Surely, you’d want to get more than forty minutes of sleep tonight?”

“I’m not even going to ask how you got my polyphastic sleep schedule down.”

“Tough luck, sport.” George said, doing a bad impersonation of his father, “The, um, school code or something says that even crazy mad scientists with flammable chemicals and miniature robots have to sleep longer than the car ride it took to get here.”

“Yeah, and if you don’t, then...uh..we’re going to hypnotize you!” Harold said, his thumb rubbing his bare index finger instinctively.

“What? Bro, we might accidentally turn him into Doctor Octopus or something!” George whispered.

“Yeah, he already did that. Remember that Octopus-robot thing he had a while back? Good point, though.” Harold whispered back.

“Sooooo you’re both going to stay..in my room...while your dad waits outside...until I go to sleep?” Melvin asked.

“Yup! We can even give you a mild dose of sleeping powder if you’re going to be all stubborn and stuff!” Harold chuckled.

“Either you broke into the White House or the stuff you have doesn’t work. And I’m going to guess you-”

Harold tore open a waxy paper packet, shook the contents into his palm, and blew it gently towards the boy, who stood his ground rambling about the homeostatic process and cytokines while visibly becoming more exhausted as he spoke. Before long, he fell asleep on the spot, and the ten-year-old bit his lower lip and pressed his hand against his heart. 

“Awww, he looks so adorable when he’s asleep!” he murmured softly.

“Did you just drug Melvin? Because, I know this is a bit hippo-critic-y, but we could probably get in a lot of trouble for that.”

“Nah, it’s corn starch. But since we told him it was sleeping powder, it actually worked-I think that’s called the Placenta effect.’’

 Turning to George, he rattled off instruction with surprising authority.

“Alright. You, get his shoulders, and I’ll get his feet. We’ll lift on three..” 

Together, they tucked him under the oddly-unwrinkled sheets, George taking off his glasses and propping them up on his nightstand as an afterthought before they ran downstairs beaming and jumped into the “Beardmobile”.

“Did we just nerd-sit?” Harold laughed.

“Yeah...I think we did!” George responded, holding out his fist expectantly.

“Nerdsitting.” The two said once more, fingers dancing in the cool night air as they pulled apart.

FIN!

Haha, sorry for another Author’s Note down here. Just wanted to point out, that, if anyone was wondering, Melvin’s French translates roughly to “You’re both fools. I’m honored to be considered your friend.” 

Pandafish!

[mistymoonstorm]

GMS Fanfiction - Sherlock/MC - Meeting

Partly due to a spell of writer’s block - and partly because I wanted to XD - I took a story prompt from @jane-runs-fast, so this is for you! The prompt is Sherlock meeting the MC from his point of view.

Sorry for the wait, and sorry for the fact that it might be a little boring. As this is a rewrite, I had to borrow a bunch of dialogue from the prologue to keep it consistent, so none of the dialogue here is mine, even if I may have tweaked a little bit. Enjoy!

Sherlock didn’t hear the door start to open, nor Mikah’s excited greeting in return to whomever had come to visit. He was lost in his mind, the conversation between John and Lestrade as they droned on about some boring, uninteresting case merely white noise in the backdrop. Easily ignored.

The most recent episode of ‘The Midfall Murders’ was flashing through his thoughts, tiny scenes and details picked clean of all they could offer him. He often did this while waiting for the next plotline to analyze, lest he be driven to other, less harmless activities to keep him occupied.

Such as firing rounds at the wall, even if Mikah had turned a rather peculiar shade of red the last time he’d done so.

A soft feminine voice sounded over the banister near the entrance to the hall, drawing him from his reverie. Sherlock turned his head slowly. Something was familiar.

“He’s just in here-” Mikah was saying, as the boy’s golden head came into view.

“Stop right there,” said Sherlock, glancing at him sharply. There was a woman behind him, her face mostly concealed by shadows cast from the window. From her posture, he would guess she was- “A flight attendant? No. An actress, since childhood.”

“Don’t change the subject, Sherlock!” growled Lestrade. “John, this is your fault. You’re supposed to keep an eye on him, aren’t you?”

“George,” began John coolly. He sighed. “I’m not Sherlock’s mother. Or his father, obviously. And even if I did keep an eye on him, Sherlock will always be Sherlock. Even the Queen herself couldn’t control him.”

As they were speaking, Irene leaped down from where she’d been lying in Mikah’s arms, darting across the rug. Her tail flicked, irritable from the commotion.

The mystery woman cleared her throat. “Um, they look kind of busy. Maybe I’d better come back another time..“

Mikah half-turned to smile at her. “Don’t worry. They’re always like this.” After he was finished speaking, he moved further into the room. “Alright, guys. No more arguing. We have a guest.” He made a motion to the woman, who hesitated for only a moment before stepping into the light.

Sherlock felt his mind come to a screeching halt, leaving him with a jarring moment of silence where nothing was thought or deduced. Flaxen hair. Amber eyes. Features he recognized even now that his brilliance was failing him.

Guinevere Stark stood in his apartment, lingering somewhat awkwardly near the door even if her squared shoulders warned of confident determination. She wore a faint, nervous smile as she looked briefly over them, as if she’d come here without prior knowledge of what to expect.

“Hello,” she said. Her voice, clear and unobstructed by walls, sent Sherlock further into his spiral.

John held his hand out to her, smiling calmly. “Nice to meet you. I’m John H Watson. Feel free to call me John.” Judging by the look on his face, John already liked what he saw. A muscle in Sherlock’s jaw ticked, but try as he may, he couldn’t manage to do anything but stare.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you John. I believe I’ve read that you’re Mr. Holmes’ assistant?” she asked, shaking his hand.

John’s answering smile was wry. “I suppose so. I’m actually a doctor, but no one seems to know me as that anymore.”

Lestrade offered his hand next. “George Lestrade.”

“He doesn’t look it, but he’s actually a police inspector at Scotland Yard,” said John amusedly.

Lestrade eyed him grumpily, too used to the barbs to get truly angry. “You could have left that part out.”

Guinevere just smiled, shaking his hand as well. “It’s nice to meet you, Inspector Lestrade.”

Her eyes flicked to Sherlock. Almost unconsciously, he sat up a little straighter, his heart squeezing. He was largely unfamiliar with the emotions that ran through him as their gazes met, but they were not unpleasant by any definition of the word.

“By the way,” said Lestrade thoughtfully, breaking their stare. Annoyance washed through Sherlock, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly. “Pardon my asking, but have we met before?”

John shook his head, exasperated. “George. That’s a little rude. Honestly, everyone sees where you’re trying to take this.”

Mikah was quick to nod his agreement. “Yeah. That’s a pretty old pick-up line, huh?”

Lestrade floundered, ears reddening. “W-wait! No! I wasn’t trying to come on to her! I really have seen her somewhere before!”

John glanced back to Guinevere. Comprehension lit his eyes. “..Hold on. Now that you mention it, I think I have seen her somewhere.”

Guinevere’s lips twitched. She was obviously used to this. “That’s probably because I’m-”

Sherlock’s brain finally snapped back to life, running a million miles a minute. He had so much he wanted to say, to ask. Before his conscious could catch up, his mouth was already moving. “So you’ve come to hire me? If it turns out to be a boring assignment, I’ll be quite upset.” His tone was frosty, his words biting.

He immediately wanted to take it back, but could not. So he continued.

Sherlock rose from his chair, striding briskly to where Guinevere stood, stiff with shock. “Let us review. You’re an actress. You started acting as a child, and now you’re preparing for your first lead role. You don’t have any fans who present you with money or gifts.”

Lestrade watched them quietly. “An actress? You were saying something about that before she showed up here, weren’t you?”

But Sherlock wasn’t listening. His focus was on Guinevere, on the shifting emotions she was displaying.

He saw her surprise fade into confusion, then understanding. She had clearly settled on the fact that he must know her purely from the television. She was wrong.

“After rehearsal, you came straight here-” He cut himself off, cocking his head. “No. You stopped by a cafe.”

“Aha!” exclaimed John from the other side of the room. “I’m sure I’ve seen her before. She’s-”

“You had cinnamon tea at Lucci & Mason,” said Sherlock. The scent of the spice clung to her, however indistinct. “And you’re also the one who figured out the answer to that quiz I gave Mikah, aren’t you?”

It was a rhetorical question. He knew the answer.

“Aww.” Mikah sighed. “So you figured out I wasn’t the one who solved it. I knew you would.“

Sherlock continued to observe Guinevere’s changing expressions, unconcerned by the growing chaos from the others. She was staring at him, eyes wide.

Then she was beaming up at him, brighter than the sun. “Amazing! You’re just as good as they say in the newspapers, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”

Heat rose in Sherlock’s chest and drifted up his throat towards his ears. “Better, actually,” he said, using his most indifferent tone in an attempt to combat the flush he felt creeping on him from her praise.

John was still excited about his ‘discovery’ behind them, trying to catch Sherlock’s attention. “Listen, Sherlock! She was in-”

“Mikah,” said Sherlock, his eyes still on Guinevere. “Get Ms. Stark some tea.”

Mikah frowned hard at him. “I don’t mind getting tea, Sherlock. But how many times do I have to tell you to not shoot your gun at the wall?” He gestured pointedly to the pattern of holes in question. “If the wall ends up crumbling, I’m not going to just send you a repair bill. I’m going to have you build me an entirely new house.”

Sherlock didn’t spare him a glance. “I’m always careful to not let that happen when I shoot.”

John was already shaking his head. “You have the patience of a saint, Mikah.”

“You’re too patient!” protested Lestrade. “Every time he’s bored, he shoots off that gun, and guess who has to respond to the calls? Think about what that’s like for me!”

This time, Sherlock did look at them, though there was no apology for them on his tongue. “All I’m doing is having a little fun to stave off the boredom, yet every time I do you come barging in here. Think about what that’s like for me, Lestrade.”

Lestrade’s mouth fell open. “Excuse me?!”

Guinevere just stared, unsure what to say.

John took pity on her, touching her arm lightly and leading her towards the couch. “Don’t worry. They’ll stop soon. Just have a seat over here, Guinevere.”

She smiled, though her eyes were still troubled. “Thank you.”

Mikah was already disappearing into the kitchen. “I’ll get some tea!”

“Just how many shots have you fired into this wall? The holes seem to spell out letters,” Lestrade was saying, squinting at the pattern.

Sherlock regarded him with disdain. “They’re initials. H.L.”

Lestrade blinked. “Whose initials?”

“Yours. Harold Lestrade.”

Lestrade’s face went crimson. “My name is GEORGE! You should know that by now!”

Sherlock waved him off, apathy returning now that his moment of weakness was cooling. “I use every last bit of my brain’s processing power, so I always delete unnecessary information from my internal memory.”

It made perfect sense to him, but Lestrade apparently thought otherwise. “Are you saying my name is unnecessary information?!”

Sherlock ignored his outrage, sitting back down in his chair just as Irene hopped onto the arm. He stroked her absentmindedly beneath the chin.

“This is a surprise,” John said to Guinevere, smiling. “I never expected you to show up here. To tell you the truth, Sherlock is a big fan of ‘The Mid-’”

“She has good posture, and from her movements, the way she walks and the clarity of her voice, I can tell she’s had formal training in each,” interrupted Sherlock, as he returned to studying her.

“Hey, Sherlock.” John frowned at him. “I’m talking to her right-”

“She’s with three men she’s never met before, and yet the smile on her face is very natural, not timid or nervous. She’s used to having all sorts of people she doesn’t know look at her.”

“So you’re telling me to shut up then? Alright. I’ll shut up.”

“When she breathes, she doesn’t raise her shoulders or chest. That’s because she learned to breathe from the abdomen when she was a child. In other words, she’s been acting since she was a child. For the most part, she’s not wearing brand-name clothing, and her jewelry has been passed down from her mother. So she doesn’t have any fans giving her money or gifts.” He paused as understanding dawned on her face. She’d figured out that he was explaining for her benefit. “A script is visible within her bag. It’s too early for her to be coming back from a performance. She’s on her way back from a rehearsal. Judging by how worn out that script is, and the number of pages you have labeled as well as their distribution throughout the book, you’re playing a major role. The title of your play is written on the spine of the script. In that particular play, the only major role played by a young woman is the female lead - the heroine. So you’re new to major roles, and they have high hopes for you.”

“A moment ago you were saying that I drank cinnamon tea at Lucci & Mason’s,” said Guinevere. She gazed at him curiously. “Could you tell that just by looking at me?”

“No,” replied Sherlock evenly. “Your fingertips give off a faint aroma of cinnamon. That’s because just earlier you were stirring tea with a cinnamon stick. The only place in London that serves Ceylon cinnamon from Sri Lanka is Lucci & Mason.”

Though he did not usually feel pride from his deductions, he felt it now, blossoming in his chest as Guinevere smiled.

“Okay then. How did you know I solved that quiz you gave Mikah?”

“Mikah always passes by Lucci & Mason when he takes his walk, and rushes when presented with a deadline, so his judgement is not always what it would otherwise be. It was a simple quiz, but I did not expect him to bring me the solution before time was up. And yet he did. Mikah is friendly by nature, but the tone he used with you showed that he liked and felt gratitude towards you. This is because he met you on the road, and you told him the answer to his quiz. And there you have it.”

“I guess I did make the right choice in coming to you for this, Mr. Holmes.” She was still smiling, but unlike those she had shared earlier, this one was tinged with relief.

Though his mind was quickly processing this new development, Sherlock’s face did not change. “And you’re just now realizing that?”

John quickly stepped in, grinning. “What he means to say is that he’s glad you think so.”

Guinevere laughed. “It’s okay, John. It doesn’t bother me.”

“So she’s a saint, then,” said Lestrade, blinking. “She’s too good to be your client, Sherlock.”

“Quiet.”

“Yes, sir,” he muttered sarcastically.

“I’m done with my little show,” Sherlock said, once again addressing Guinevere. “I’ve shown you what I can do, now it’s your turn to talk, Ms. Stark. I hope your request won’t be one I find boring.”

It was a bluff, of course, even if he refused to actually admit it. He would take any case that came from her, regardless of its actual level of mystery.

End

[larry-2010-ziam]

One Direction FanFiction

good or nah??

Malik Manor

(louis pov)

I walked to my friend’s house and rang the doorbell. About 5 minutes later she came downstairs and opened the door. “Hey you finally showed up!” She exclaimed and i rolled my eyes. “Ya, ya shush.” I said. We walked further into the large 6 bedroom house and sat down in her bedroom. 6 other people were there; my best friends Liam and Niall, the other 4 people were Cara, Ashton, Perrie and Jade. We were all invited to Cara’s house for a sleepover/party for her 17th birthday, and now we were playing would you rather. “Louis, would you rather stay in Malik Manor overnight or would you rather tell your crush you love them in front of the whole school.” Ashton said with a smirk, a few gasps were heard and I paled. But Niall looked confused, “What is that?” “Oh yeah that’s right you’re new here last year, weren’t you?” Perrie said. “Malik Manor is an old castle like mansion that housed; a father, mother, 3 daughters and 1 son. I’ve learned in history class that the Malik’s were a very wealthy family that owned a company that hired out guest rooms, bodyguards and limousines to famous celebrities. The company was doing very well until one cold fall evening. It was a very important day for the Malik’s as they were expecting a famous singer. The son figured that this guest would be like every other one, so he invited his best friend over, Harry Styles, he was the son of a wealthy business man that owned an oil refinery. But little did they know that when they said goodnight it would be their last. Both boys were murdered in their sleep by the famous singer/songwriter. He was tried and later convicted of the murder of Zayn J. Malik and Harry E. Styles.

That was over 70 years ago, the family never actually told the press how both boys were murdered but some say they were hung while others say the 2 boys were stabbed. And today there is a myth going around saying that if you go into Malik Manor, go into Zayn’s bedroom, and say his name he will appear. I heard that one time a girl did it and she was never seen again.” Cara said lowly as she explained to niall. He cowered back and curled up into his boyfriend, Liam. “Now back to the game, Louis what would you do?” Ashton asked. I gulped and said the first one. “You guys know that I don’t believe in that crap story right?” I said, avoiding the question. “Alright then let’s go…whose car are we taking?” Ashton said, I rolled my eyes and grabbed my jacket. “You are so childish.” I said while shaking my head. We got into 2 cars and drove to the estate. “Here, now go inside and do it.” Ashton said as he gave me a flashlight. “O-ok f-fi-ne.” I got out of the car and walked up to the house. I reached out to the doorknob and opened the door.

(3rd person POV-with Zayn and Harry)

“Harry, we have guests.” Zayn said as he stood in the window, looking down at the small boy that was walking to the front door. Harry came to stand next to Zayn and chuckled darkly. “Yes we do, shall we pay them a visit?” He asked, Zayn nodded and they both phased to the living room. The boy slowly walked into the living room and grumbled. “This is absolutely bull, there is nothing here anyways. It’s just a stupid myth.” Harry, being the more outgoing one, chuckled in that dark manner that sent chills up Louis’ back as he turned around. Harry manifested and Louis dropped the flashlight, he backed up and stared at harry. “Oh doll, it’s not just a myth.” Harry said in that deep slow tone. Harry reached out and caressed his cheek, Louis immediately raised his hand and pushed the hand away. Harry returned his hand with an animalistic growl. “Fuck!” he growled and Louis looked down and seen his silver ring that his mother gave him for his 15th birthday. Harry lurched forward to grab the boy but Zayn took it upon himself to make his appearance and scare the living daylights out of Louis. Zayn manifested next to Harry, Louis seen the shadow and quickly picked up his flashlight. The light shown on Zayn and Louis let out a blood curdling scream; the demon wasn’t his ‘human’ self. Zayn had deathly white skin, black eyes that were bleeding (the blood was also black), a smirk that shown 2 pointed fangs and his clothes were a black tattered robe. A boney pale hand reached out and touched Louis’ face and he fainted.

“Louis?!” The 2 demons quickly dissolved into black smoke and floated to the vents. Ashton, Niam, Cara, Perrie and Jade walked into the large room and seen Louis on the floor. They all huddled around the boy and shook him awake. “W-w-we n-need t-t-to leave, NOW!” Louis stuttered and they all froze when the door slammed shut and locked itself. 2 deep chuckles were heard and the lights flickered on. The 2 boys appeared and Zayn stepped forward. “Harold, would you like to play a spot of hide and seek?” Zayn said with a posh accent. “Why yes, you know I love to play with my food. Don’t you?” He chuckled lightly. Zayn nodded and snapped his fingers. All 8 were in the center of a maze (A/n: the maze is indoors with stone walls and cobblestone floors). “You have 72 hours to find your way out, anyone who doesn’t get out dies. If you are lucky enough and actually make your way out of the maze, we let you go.” Zayn said. “Ready set go!” All 6 teens ran into the maze. Liam and niall took one path, Ashton and Cara took another and Jade and Perrie took another pathway. Louis went on his own path and ran into a dead end. He stopped and looked around, his breathing heavy. A scream was heard and a name was shouted soon after. “JADE!!” Louis took a sharp breath in, for the girl was gone. Ashton and Cara came to a dead end also but when they turned they seen Perrie hugging Jade’s sweatshirt that she was wearing. “Oh my god! Per are you ok?!” Perrie turned towards Cara’s voice and she ran over to the girl, Ashton trailing behind. They all group hugged and walked in a new direction.

Liam held his trembling boyfriend as they walked down the dark stone hall, they came to a cross roads. “Li Li, I’m scared…I want to go home.” Niall sobbed. Liam stopped walking and held on tightly to the boy. He pulled Niall into a kiss and they were interrupted by a deep chuckle. “Aww young love, so fragile and so naive .” Both boys turned to see Zayn with black eyes and his arms crossed behind his back. Liam protectively pushed Niall behind him and glared at the demon. Zayn chuckled darkly and advanced forward, circling the two young boys. “Now now that’s not wise, do you really think that you could protect him? ” He said, eyes now turning red. Harry on the other hand was having fun tormenting Louis. “Come out come out wherever you are…” He teased. Louis had his back pressed against the wall harry’s dark figure coming closer and closer to the corner. Louis bolts and tries to run away. “Tsk tsk tsk, is that really a smart thing to do?” He fazed to in front of louis and the small boy stopped in his tracks, he turned the other way only to be met with a dog like growel. “Hell hounds, lovely creatures they are.” Louis felt a strong jaw clamp down on his calf and was pulled off his feet. “Invisible to you as well, but if they weren’t where would be the fun in that?” Harry smirked and snapped his fingers and the weight off of Louis’ lower half disappeared. He looked up to harry’s figure and panicked, a sadistic smile was on the demon's face.....

[wincestisasincest]

2000 Man (A beatle!reader story) - Part 1: Madam Beatle

Hello friends! Yes I absolutely am starting a new series when I haven’t finished another one. I was just so intrigued by the idea of a beatle!reader that I had to start something. 

Credit to @casafrass for literally all the ideas and a few of the headcanons, I’ll name which ones I’m using for each part of the story.

Anyway, the story is framed through an interview that our dear reader is having in the year 2000 as she tries to promote her new book, Madam Beatle, which chronicles the story of her life. Expect a lot of flashbacks, and a lot of angst as the stories goes on. Kinda inspired by Slumdog Millionaire. I don’t know how long this is gonna be yet, but expect a L O T. 

Anyway, let’s start, and get ready for more.

Description: It’s the year 2000, and y/n, the fifth member of the Beatles, is advertising her new book, Madam Beatle, in her first interview of the year. We see snapshots of her life, from when she joined the band, to the trials and tribulations, to the death of the band, and everything in between. Loosely inspired by Slumdog Millionaire. 

Part: 1, 2

Headcanons: How the fans would react, how the press would react/how defensive the boys are 

Words: 1,967

Pairings: None, at the moment, just general fluff and friendship 

Warnings: Rude people and language

“Welcome back to the show, y/n. I hate to be the one to say it, but I haven’t seen you since the last millennium.” 

“Thanks for having me, Harold, though I honestly didn’t think I would live to see the next one.”

“Well, I think I speak for everyone when I say that we’re glad you did. How else would we get to see the release of, what was it, Madam Beatle?” 

“Yup, that it was.” 

“Now, I mean this as so insult to your creativity, but I understand that this title isn’t your own thinking, is it?”

“Well, no, it was actually one of the many titles that the press had given me back in our early days. The first article that I read that was specifically about me, was, in fact, titled, ‘Madam Beatle, Yay or Nay?’. It was in a section of a teen magazine, I don’t even remember the name at this point, but it was where the magazine would pose a question in the previous issue, and fans would send letters with their responses. It was usually some sort of yes or no question. I’m afraid I don’t recall the whole thing, but I did save that page of the magazine, and I had it printed in full in the book.”

“Was this article particularly significant to you.” 

“I’d like to think so. I remember reading it and thinking to myself, ‘Wow, this many people I don’t know have strong opinions about me.’ It sounds a little weird saying it out loud, but it was just such a strange concept to me, and was almost completely foreign at the time, though I grew used to it.”

Your hands sealed the envelope closed as you slammed it on top of your growing pile. You felt a little bad not putting the return address on the front of the letters. Of course, you knew full-well that that was Freda’s job, but there was simply so many. She would have to dedicate an hour, at least. 

This response had been something special. Greta, a seven year old from Idaho, had sent you a drawing of herself and you, and you wanted to respond with something equally as awesome, so you sent her a drawing of yourself and her à la colored pencils instead of crayons. Something about children always brought out your soft side, even if it took an extra 10 minutes to answer. 

You tore open the next letter without even checking the front. The address wasn’t really important, it was the name inside. Out fell a small sheet of paper and a crumpled page of a magazine. 

The paper was about the size of a post-it note, with words scrawled on it in thick, black pen: “I’m not the only one who thinks you’re a whore.” 

Shaking, you picked up the crumpled magazine page. You couldn’t figure which magazine it was, but you recognized the format of the column. A point-counterpoint type column, with the page split in half, headed either ‘Yay’ or ‘Nay’, and a collection of responses on either side. Or, they’re should’ve been, as the heading under ‘Yay’ was completely scribbled out by the black marker, leaving only the ‘Nay’ section visible. 

The title of the article was ‘Madam Beatle, Yay or Nay?’, and under the title, in confident, showy lettering, was the question: ‘What do you think of y/n of the Beatles?’

You turned the page over and refused to read it. You knew what this was. You had heard of it. And you had also heard that the best way to deal with hate-mail was to not give into it. To not answer. But you weren’t very good at avoiding temptation. 

There was a knock at the door. You peered through the fish-eye. Yup, it was the four lads, who had almost certainly all lost the room key. You pulled the door open slightly, only to have it stopped by the door chain. 

“Y/n, love, you’re supposed to open the door the whole way.” You didn’t even have to look up to know that it was Lennon, dripping with sarcasm as usual.

“I dunno if I should. I was told by our very esteemed manager Brian that I should keep all riff-raff out of the hotel room.” You began rolling your rs in the way that posh people do.

“Then what are you doin’ in there?” Ringo joined the arena.

“I’m a beacon of morality.” You giggled as you unlocked the door. 

The four blew in past you, moving to all corners of the room, and stretching out on whatever chair or sofa they could find. 

“Was it worth it?” You blew some hair out of your face.

“Nah, he wasn’t home.” George crossed his legs on the coffee table while sitting on the sofa. 

“Too famous for you, I guess.” You crossed your arms and took in the room of disappointed faces. If it were anyone else, you wouldn’t like to say ‘I told you so.’ But, you really did tell them so.

“Ah, just you wait. One day, we’ll be rejecting Elvis when he tries to come over.” John was scrounging through the kitchenette looking for snacks to fuel his sarcasm. 

“Y/n, what’s this?” Paul, who hadn’t spoken yet, was hunched over the table with your fan mail sprawled out on it.

“Jus’ some fan mail that I was getting done, you know, being productive, while I was waiting for you four to get rejected.” You were silently praying that he wouldn’t notice that one shred of hate mail that you had. Of course, it had to be the hate mail that he noticed and not the thousands and thousands of wonderful letters that you had received. If anyone would make a big deal, it would be Paul. 

“No, no, I mean this letter, if that’s what you can call it.” Paul, don’t you do it.

“What does it say?” Ringo called over everyone’s head. 

“I don’t wanna say it out loud, but-” 

“Paul, it’s fine, there���s no fans around.” You just wanted to get this whole thing over. 

“What does it say?” John was looking over Paul’s shoulder at your table. 

“Guys, it’s fine, I don’t ca-” 

“Someone sent y/n hate mail.” 

“What? What does it say?” Ringo and George both went over to join the group, hovering over what you had just opened. 

“Yeah, but it’s like, not a big deal,” you walked back over to join them, “I got all these nice letters from other people, if one person is angry, I don’t really mind.” You patted the top of your stack of letters as there was a small silence. 

“Good girl, y/n,” John strolled to your side and put his arm around you, “Lads, this is the grit that we’re gonna need to have if we’re gonna make it past this milestone.” 

“What the hell are you on about, John?” Paul had finally given up his fascination with the hate mail.

“We’ve got our first hate mail. We’ve officially made it.” You joined a chorus of sighs, but John only chuckled. 

“In fact, I think this calls for a celebration,” he pulled away from you, “Pour the champagne!” He whipped a bottle of champagne out of one of the cabinets and swiped give champagne glasses from the shelf. John and properly confronting the situation was often not a good pairing. 

“Where the hell did that come from?” George chided, though it was through a smile.

“What does it matter? We’re fucking famous!” The champagne was overflowing in the glass that he shoved into your hand. You felt a smile creeping up your face. You couldn’t tell if he was just trying to ignore the situation, or if he was genuinely happy, and frankly, you didn’t care. 

“To hate mail!” The five of you clinked your glasses, somewhat unexpectedly, but no one was gonna turn away a champagne celebration. You took a long sip. He was right. This was just another lesson to add to your collection of things that you had to deal with in the public conscience. First, it was the press, and now, it was some very pissed off fans. Only a little longer until you learned not to care about breathing. 

The next few hours were a blur. Champagne had taken the place of the brandy that you took before shows to ease your nerves, though you obviously weren’t thinking about it at the time, and thus, were slightly more tired and drunk than usual.

Still, the show went fine. You honestly could’ve stood there for an hour and those fans would’ve screamed their heads off anyway. And life was good. 

You stepped into the car that would take you back to the hotel, your feat aching, as they always did, and your eyelids begging to shut. The car lurched forwards. 

“Y/n, I found this for you.” Ringo sat across from you and handed you what looked like a magazine, with his thumb marking one of the pages. You and him had stepped into the car earlier than the rest, as the group always took different routes in order to ease the escape from fans. 

“Thanks, Rings.” You flipped it open, and your eyes recognized the page that you’d landed on. It was the same article from earlier, except that the ‘Yay’ column was no longer blacked out. You smiled. 

“Aww, you didn’t have to do that.” 

“I know, I know, but I wanted to make sure that you have the, the good opinions with the bad, and all that.” 

“Another successful night, lads, and now, to the bar!” John hopped into the car, a tidal wave of fans following close behind. Paul and George then slinked in and the door was slammed shut behind them. 

“What’s that you’ve got there, y/n?” Paul squeezed himself next to me. 

“Ringo found me the same magazine from earlier. Wanted me to see all the  ‘good opinions’.” 

“Awww, Rings! Looking out for our y/n like that.” John ruffled his hair as he shoved himself into the seat next to him.

“I never knew how nasty girls can be towards girls. I always thought it was just the press.” George added his pensive two cents while looking out the window. 

“Hey, hey, it’s the fans, not girls in general. And I’ll have you know, I got several adoring letters from both our male and female fans.” You leaned back in your seat. 

“We have male fans?” Paul laughed. John snorted.

“But seriously, y/n, they don’t mean shit, those girls. We don’t like ‘em either.” John was bad at emotions, you knew this, but his words were some odd comfort. 

“Wow, very nice, you could’ve said that without a bottle of champagne, y’know.” Brian jammed himself in the car next to John and Ringo.

“Here comes the killjoy.” Paul muttered under his breath.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that drunken stumble tonight, Lennon. And don’t think that the audience didn’t notice, either. Very unprofessional.” 

“The only professional here is the driver, Brian, and even he’s speeding a little.” What a comedy duo. The rest of the car cracked up with laughter. 

“Do watch that, Lennon. The rest of you, a little better, but do try to stick to brandy next time.” He took out one of his finer cigars. 

“Tonight we’re sticking to more than brandy.” You added, and the group let out whoops of joy.

“Cheers, love.” Paul gave you a light shove.

Brian’s attempts to control the group were futile. The driver fulfilled his purpose and flipped off someone while slamming on the gas to pull into the lane. You and your best friends sped into the night, leaving all your inhibitions far behind. 

[themcuhasruinedme]

Vintage Film Fest (Pt. 3)

[Summary]: You and Steve have been dating for a while and you surprise him with a pair of tickets to a vintage film festival as an anniversary date

[Pairing]: Steve x reader

[Word Count]: 2,806

Tagging: @theashhole @dividedwecantfall @peterman-parker @avengerofyourheart @nataliarxmanxva @metalarmproblems @mcuimxgine @accio-rogers @imagine-assembling-the-avengers @that-sokovian-bastard @hellomissmabel @abovethesmokestacks @peculiar-persephone @bellameys @beccaanne814 @hymnofthevalkyrie @buckys-shield @callamint @redgillan @lancefvcker @thetalesofmooseandsquirrel @iwillbeinmynest @theassetseyeliner @lilasiannerd @aubzylynn @sgtbxckybxrnes @iamwarrenspeace @marvelrevival @httpmcrvel @avengersnthings @feelmyroarrrr @girl-next-door-writes @honey-bee-holly @patzammit

A/N: Harold Lloyd gif was made by yours truly! So, since Tumblr links no longer work you can find the other parts of this short series in my masterlist. And again, I encourage you guys to watch the movies and shorts I mention in this as they are all wonderful and amazing (heads up though: some of them are silent!) and all can be found on YouTube.

Day three seemed to go by kinda slow and you kept watching the clock throughout the day, waiting for the time to hit when Steve and you were to drive over to the theater.

You had went out shopping a little earlier that day, going to your favorite vintage clothing shop - a place that had everything from 1920′s to 1950′s inspired clothes and dresses and found a really cute day dress that looked like it could be from the 1930′s.

Steve liked when you wore clothes like that. He would say that they look much better on you than any “modern day” style. But then again, he said anything looked good on you. You also believed that he liked it mostly because it brought him back to that period in time. And you were happy to have anything spark those memories, cuz it meant that you were in for a walk down memory lane with him and it was the best feeling both of you could have.

When it was finally time to go to the theater, Steve couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Wow, [Y/N]. You look gorgeous,” he said as he took you by the hand and turned you around to look over the dress.

“Thank you. I found it at that vintage clothes shop, the one I told you about.”

“Oh, you mean the one that you always go to?” he asked as he locked the front door behind you and escorted you to the car.

You nodded. “That’s the one. I’ll have to take you there some time. They have clothes for men there as well.”

Opening the door and gently letting you sit down in the passenger seat, Steve placed a kiss on the top of your hand. “We’ll make that our next date,” he said giving you a wink.

When you got to the theater, Steve helped you out of the car and held your hand as the two of you walked in and stood in line to get the popcorn and drinks. And when you got all your snacks for the movies, the two of you walked in to a quarter-filled theater.

“Not as bad as last night, huh?”

“Hush up,” he said and playfully nudged your arm.

Finding seats around the same area as the two previous nights, you both settled down and waited for he movie night to begin. As the night before, there was plenty of time to wait before the movies and shorts actually started which again made you need to pull out your phone and play some games on. This time you brought your earbuds with to also watch some videos on YouTube, mostly other shorts of Charlie, Buster and Harold that weren’t being played on the big screen.

When you felt Steve tap your arm then point to his ear, you removed your earbuds to hear that there was going to be a five minute delay which then you heard moans and groans from all parts of the theater, mostly from the kids. But that five minutes went by quickly.

When the lights went dark and the first film started up, you had a smile appear on your face as it was one of Laurel and Hardy’s famous silent shorts called Liberty.

The theater made have started out quiet but laughter rang out seeing Stan and Ollie in prisoner outfits being chased by a cop, getting in a get-away car and trying to change into normal clothes. Even more laughter happened when a cop started chasing the car which sent Stan and Ollie into panic mode and made them quickly get out of the car, only to find out they had each other’s pants on.

The laughter was practically non stop through out the rest of the short as Stan and Ollie keep trying to find places to change pants but had no luck and had even worse luck while they were behind a seafood restaurant with Stan having a crab fall into his pants and begin to have problems with the crab nipping his butt.

A lot of gasps and ooo’s came from the kids all over the theater as they watched Stan and Ollie somehow get stuck at the top of an unfinished building and almost fall off of it several times, due to the crab still being stuck in the pants which were now properly on Ollie.

And squeaks of joy scattered throughout the place when Stan and Ollie were finally able to safely get back down on the ground.

When the lights came on for the first break to start, Steve looked over at you and smiled. You smiled back and placed your head on his shoulder, the two of you waiting quietly for the next one to start. And quickly start it did.

Your smile got even bigger seeing that it was one of your favorite Buster talking shorts called The Timid Young Man. You remembered that when you had started really getting into watching everything Buster had did, you were very hesitant with watching his talking stuff because you weren’t entirely sure if you were going to like the way he sounded. But when you heard his beautiful low, Midwestern, gruff, flat baritone voice, all your worries went out the door because hearing it made you melt into a puddle.

The audience sat in silence and watched as a girl ran out of her wedding ceremony, saying how she didn’t want to marry the man then watched the scene change as another girl gets a key to Milton’s, Buster’s character, room and wakes him up to tell him that their wedding was that day.

“Last night you said you couldn’t live without me,” the woman told him.

“Oh, I must’ve been drunk,” he replied, which made the audience burst out laughing.

The audience then watched as his butler told him to leave and go up to the mountains so he wouldn’t have to marry her. It then turned into him picking up the runaway bride on his drive out, getting into a heated standoff with another driver and finally getting to camp where the woman set everything up while Milton went fishing, which in turn had the whole theater laughing over.

Plenty of laughter came and went throughout the short, especially when the driver they had met earlier wandered on to their camp and Milton tried to get rid of him by doing several different things including pouring gasoline into the man’s salad. And when the short ended and the lights came on, you could see smiles on so many faces in the theater.

Another break happened and as you and Steve sat quietly waiting for the next one to start, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Looking behind you, you saw the couple you and Steve talked to the night before. Your excitement caught Steve’s attention and he turned around also getting excited to see them. The four of you talked for a bit during the break and got quiet when the lights dimmed down.

The title card of one of Charlie’s famous silent short’s called A Dog’s Life flashed across the screen and you were in a moment of quietude. It may not have been one of his laughter filled comedies but it did have some laughs here and there.

As soon as the dog appeared on the screen, you heard so many awww’s from every corner of the theater and most of it was from the kids. But you couldn’t help but smile too as the screen stayed on the for for a bit.

But laughter started when The Tramp got busted by a cop for trying to steal a hot dog and when the cop tried to get him, The Tramp evaded him by rolling out from under the fence, untying the cop’s shoes and kicking him when the cop got stuck under the fence.

It became quiet while the audience watched The Tramp wander around looking for a job and then finding that there was one but several others wanted it as well, the laughter broke out again seeing the poor Tramp get out smarted by the others.

But when the scene came of The Tramp saving the little dog from a bunch of other dogs, all the kids in the audience whooped and cheered which then turned to more aww’s when The Tramp took care of the little dog by giving it some milk that was left over in a bottle on someone’s doorstep to drink.

Laughs came when The Tramp came across a street food vendor who had a plate of sliced bread on the counter and he started stuffing them in his mouth, only stopping when the owner turned around to suspect The Tramp of something. And laughs came again when The Tramp snuck the dog into a pub by hiding it in his oversized pants.

You nestled your head on Steve’s chest as you watched The Tramp meet a girl in the pub, quickly fall for her but then get tossed out because he had no money to pay for his tab. Steve looked down at you and placed a soft kiss on the top of your head which made you smile and sigh contently.

Watching The Tramp go back to his outdoor sleeping spot with the dog, who he named Scraps, was the most adorable thing you could ever see.

But soon the movie was over with laughs happening throughout the rest of the short and it was time for a longer break.

You and Steve took turns to go to the restroom and Steve got a couple boxes of candy from the concession stand as well. Coming back, he handed you a box of Reese’s Pieces, your absolute favorite. Eyeing it like a vulture, you snatched it out of his hand and as you started to open it, all he could do was laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you asked, shoveling a handful in your mouth.

“You,” he said. “It’s almost like you’ve never had candy in your life before.” “Well, excuse me if you bring over my favorite kind. I can’t help how my mind tells my body to react upon seeing my favorite candy.”

Steve just chuckled and shook his head. Another several minutes and the lights dimmed down once again for the next movie to start.

A talking Harold Lloyd movie called Feet First started and this was another one of your favorites from Harold. After all, how could you not love how hard he tries to be the best shoe salesman possible along with his sweet and boyish voice.

The audience watched as he helped a girl who got in a bad scrap with a man after her car hit his from behind then seeing Harold and the girl both instantly fall for each other.

Steve joked that that’s not how things worked in real life which made you jab your finger in his side.

“Ow,” he whispered while flinching a bit.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” you whispered back and linked your arms around Steve’s arm, adjusting the way you were sitting in your seat.

Laughter came and went as the audience watched Harold meet the girl again and believe her to be the boss’s daughter, which made him want to impress her even more. And then watching as he accidentally gets stuck on a ship eventually meeting the girl again along with his boss and his wife.

Gasps from the kids throughout the theater happened when Harold escaped from the ships crew by hiding in a mailbag which then got picked up and brought ashore to New York but fell off a delivery cart onto a window cleaner's cradle, which was then hoisted upwards.

More gasps and ooo’s followed as the audience watched the bag get caught on the side of the building as Harold struggled to get out of it. But laughter soon followed as everyone watched him get out of the bag after landing on the cradle and going into panic mode, clinging tightly to it and yelling for help while the two window washers at the top of the building hoisting it up were totally oblivious to then fact that Harold was on it.

Soon it was a mix of gasps and laughter as you all watched Harold try to get into the building while also trying to not fall off, along with the cradle going up and down only causing problems for him.

When the happy ending came and the movie finished, the lights came on and the last break of the night started. You decided to pull out your phone and scroll  through your social media for a bit while Steve did the same, which made the two of you show each other several different posts which made you both laugh until the final movie started.

It was another talking Buster movie, which this one also happened to be one of your top three favorites called Speak Easily. Even though most fans considered his talking movies to not be good at all, mostly due to how MGM treated him, making a character for him that acted like a total buffoon, there were still a few decent ones and this was one of them.

The audience watched as the timid and shy Professor Post, Buster’s character, was told by his assistant to get out and see the world because the Professor was such a lonely person. He told his assistant that even though he wanted to, he couldn’t afford to spend his money to indulge on “a whim”.

Giggles from all the kids throughout the theater came when the assistant gave the Professor a letter saying that he inherited $750,000 which made the Professor excited and that he decided he was going to go out and “buy companionship”. Laughter happened while you all watched the Professor pack his trunk with anything he grabbed, including his own bed.

Quietness came while the screen showed the Professor board the train, meet the manager of a dancing troupe that was on the same train and immediately fall head over heels for one of the dancers named Pansy. Aww’s filled the theater while watching the Professor take care of a baby from someone that was part of the troupe but laughter rang out when the Professor noticed his trunk wasn’t on the train and stopped it, causing an argument with the luggage man.

Gasps came from the kids as you all found out that the letter the Professor got was actually written by his assistant only to help get him out and see the world because the assistant couldn’t stand seeing the Professor be so lonely from day to day.

Laughter came and went throughout the rest of the movie as the audience watched the Professor miss his train, meet back up with the dancing troupe at the opera house and quietness fell upon the theater when the sheriff came to take the troupes things but then the Professor paid the man which then made the manager decide to let the Professor take over the show and manage it to repay him for his kindness.

More laughter came with seeing the Professor trying to direct the show so they could get it on Broadway, get somewhat flustered and tongue-tied with a spoiled actress who joined the production, incorporating new dance moves into the show, the actress “buttering up” the Professor and then seeing the two of them get drunk at her apartment. 

Even more laughter happened when both of them fell asleep in her apartment and the Professor not realizing what happened until he woke up the next morning and tried to sneak out quietly but didn’t even manage to make it out of the bedroom without waking her.

As more laughs came and went through the last bit of the movie with the show being put on, the manager finding out the Professor didn’t have all that money, the show crew trying to keep the Professor away from the stage and Buster causing chaos that only he would know how to do, it was sure a delight to end the night with.

When the screen went black and the lights came on to say that night number three was over, you and Steve waited until almost everyone was gone to walk back to the car. Linking your arm to Steve’s as you slowly walked through the parking lot, you placed your head on his shoulder.

“So, can I ask you yet if you’ve been having fun with this?”

You looked up at him and giggled. “And I’ll say again, do you really have to ask? This has been one of the greatest dates we’ve done.”

He smiled at you and kissed the top of your head. “You’re exactly right.”

[newsiegirlscout]

Last One Chosen

Yup. Yup, we’re doing this now. I’ve got a pack of Coke, a few hours of sleep, and a favorite character, so, I present to you...Melvin fluff! (Partially inspired by @slytherin-unite‘s art over here..so give her a hand!)

Melvin Sneedly had never been the Team Captain of any game. Well, or one of the first chosen. In fact, it was usually reluctance that came with him being chosen at all to play in any team sport. Children gave him weird looks when he wrote out the drag equations on his forearms to swing the baseball bat at the perfect moment, or when he calculated the best trajectory for volleyball, usually succeeding with the perfect angle, though failing to gain significant force. 

It was for that reason that he was typically the last chosen in Gym class or on the playground, sometimes earning a rough shove, punch, or knee to the gut when the yard duty’s back was turned. Once, that Kipper had shattered his glasses, and he’d been forced to go home early and miss Professor Gaylord’s neuroelectrophysiology demonstration just-just because he was brilliant...

He absently cupped a flower, recognizable as a sample of lycoris sprengeri, in his hand, stroking its soft petals for no more than a moment before he crushed it in his palm. 

When he’d signed up for Science camp, it was supposed to be an invigorating experience to learn more about the principals of fields he didn’t know as much about, maybe do something productive with all the extra time where only delinquents were allowed to attend school. Instead, they dedicated maybe 43.436% of their time to education, and spent the remaining 56.564% on silly activities like fishing, toasting marshmallows, and physical past-times like soccer, which none other than George and Harold got to be Team Captains for.

Adjusting his glasses, he scooted forward on the grass, careful not to get verdant stains on his automatically-matched crisp white socks and listened to the calls, his gaze flickering back and forth as if a ping-pong match had unfolded.

“James McCall.”

“Abigail Bevin.”

“Rebecca Nguyen.”

“Maverick Schleisch..”

“Chris Osten.”

“Mac Turtledove.”

“Melvin Sneedly.”

Harold gestured to his position and smiled, and almost instinctively, Melvin sat up and glanced behind him. When it became apparent that no duplicate names had been placed in his cabin, he got to his feet uneasily. 

“Aww, bro, you took Melvin? No fair!” George sighed from the other end of the field, still beaming. 

Melvin trotted to the left team, his palms sweating, waiting for someone to tell him he had made a mistake somehow. Instead, the boy held up his palm in the social symbol Jerome Howitz students often used to greet one another, the typical response being to slap one’s hand against their’s. The blond squinted at him like anyone would a blown circuit board, baffled at his apparently-misdemeaning conduct. 

“You...haven’t ever gotten a high-five before, have you?”

Melvin flushed slightly and scraped the toe of his sandal against the playing field behind him, arching his spine marginally in defense. 

“Not everyone specializes in social rites, Harold Hutchins.”

“Fist bumps?”

“Intelligent people tend to have less friends than the average person. Therefore, being a straight gold-star student, my best friend is a hamster.”

“Uhh....Namaste?”

“Socializing is a waste of time that could be better dedicated to research.” 

“Okay, um...have you heard that entropy isn’t what it used to be?”

At first, he remained confused. After a second, his face lit up and a short chuckle bubbled from his throat. 

“There we are! You understand physics and stuff, how about playing offense?” Harold said, beaming with evident pride and tossing him the appropriate uniform color. 

Melvin slipped it over his head and gave a thumbs up, merging into the lineup, forever grateful not to have been chosen last. 

***********************************

As a seventeen-year-old graduate of Jerome Howitz High School, Melvin Sneedly framed his certificate, slipped it into its cardboard sleeve, and stacked it carefully in the appropriate box, allowing it to seal itself and hop onto the track down the stairs, giving a smile when it rolled down the stairs, across the living room, and onto the front porch of his house

“You ready to get this show on the road, Sport?” his father said, ruffling his  hair. In response, he pulled a fine-tooth comb out of his shirt pocket and tugged it through his auburn locks, giving a slight nod. 

“In a second..just gotta grab one more thing, and then I’ll be right there.”

In a formulaic fashion, he unfastened his prize photograph from where it hung above his bed, wrapping it carefully in one of his spare dress shirts and placing it between the textbooks in his backpack. Depicted were him, George, and Harold posing for their graduation, each wearing an identical grin and splattered in silly string. Throwing the weight of his bookbag across his shoulders, Melvin walked to his father’s car, stepped in, and cleaned his glasses.

Before long, the sun had set, and he watched the golden clouds roll down to the horizon calmly, one hand caressing the photograph in his lap. 

Yep. It really had been one wild ride with those two.

Cheers to a half-dozen more.