#And what about that time he danced the waltz with Marie and it was so clear that there was magic between them and you cried and denied you w

[ellecdc]

Hey! How are you? Do you think you could write poly!marauders where everyone pranks Sirius by dressing up as him for halloween?

hahahahah this is so funny - thanks for the request!

poly!marauders x gn!reader who all dress up as Sirius for Halloween [1.1k words]

CW: Sirius vs Remus re: their coaster debacle, referring to Sirius as a slut/trollop/and himself referring to 'cheap hookers', it's all in good fun

“I think this might be my favourite prank yet.” Remus chuckled as he helped you lace up the black combat boots on your feet.

James’ head snapped up from where he’d been focused on ensuring the buckle of his belt sat just right, his black jeans hanging dangerously low on his hips leaving almost nothing to the imagination as he flashed you and Remus his most convincing Sirius Black wink.

It sort of occurred to you then - seeing your two other boyfriends and all of your shared friends dressed up as Sirius - that your boyfriend was kind of a slut.

“Kind of?" Marlene had snorted as she flipped an errant strand of black hair away from her face (and dangerously close to her lit cigarette, mind you). “Babes, your boyfriend is a trollop.” 

Lily came waltzing over to you in what she swore up and down was exactly how Sirius had 'swaggered’ his way through Hogwarts back in the day; white button down shirt barely buttoned at all, skin tight black jeans and black chunky boots, and hastily drawn tattoos in liquid eyeliner littering the vast amount of skin everyone’s Sirius Black costumes required to be visible.

“Hey there doll face.” She offered in as baritone she could manage to get her voice to go. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m a dog in bed.”

You let out a - very Sirius-esque, now that you thought of it - bark of laughter as you clapped excitedly. “This is going to be so good.” 

“How’d you all convince him to bugger off before a party?” Peter asked then, struggling with the wig as he tried to move it higher on his head and out of his eyes. “He’s usually half-way drunk about now and hanging off one of you lot.”

“Remus pretended to be miffed at him so-” James offered, cut off by Remus stating he was “absolutely not pretending; he’s asked Sirius Merlin knows how many times now to use a sodding coaster”. 

“So, in apology, Sirius offered to run to pick up the keg.” You finished as Remus and James argued about whether rings on the coffee table were really a punishable offence when there was already a cigarette burn in it, which started a whole new argument over who the fuck burned the coffee table. No one thought to mention that a quick spell would easily buff either out. 

“How selfless of him.” Lily sighed as he leaned back against the kitchen island with an arrogant sort of elegance - she really was nailing this Sirius impression. 

“Little did he know it was going to be his job anyway.” You snickered before you heard the door knob turning.

“Okay, okay, the keg is still in the car, but I also stopped by the department store and bought three packages of coasters. And you’ll never guess what! The coasters are-” 

But before you could hear what the coasters were, Sirius looked up to see his flat full of all of his friends and loved ones…dressed like him. 

“What the fuck?” Sirius mumbled quietly as everyone yelled “SURPRISE!”

“What do you think?” Marlene asked as she strutted towards Sirius not unlike she was on a catwalk, turning sharply in front of him and winking at him over her shoulder before stalking away again; Dorcas wolf-whistled at her the whole time whilst Lily hollered. 

Sirius made a sound bordering a laugh and a scoff as his mouth fell open in a proto-smile, eyes dancing over Dorcas, Marlene, Peter, Lily, Mary, Remus, James, you, and - fuckin’ hells - even the cat had a sodding leather jacket on. 

“Are….are you all dressed-”

“Like you!” Mary squealed excitedly, bounding in her place as she held her hands underneath her chin. “Don’t we look smashing?”

Sirius shook his head in disbelief as he let out a breathless laugh. “No; you all look like cheap hookers.”

A chorus of hey!’s and oi!’s and ‘we literally took these out of your wardrobe, Pads! sounded as James pulled Sirius into a headlock. 

“I’ll show you a cheap hooker.” James muttered into Sirius’ cheek as the two pretended to wrestle.

“Oh I’m counting on it, Jamie. Can’t wait.” Sirius called as James released him so he and Marlene could retrieve the keg from the car. 

“Surprise.” You offered quietly as Sirius accepted you into an embrace.

“I should have known you were behind all of this.” Sirius muttered in faux contempt before stamping the crown of your head with a kiss. “Was Moony’s mood just a ruse, then?”

“It wasn’t a sodding ruse, Sirius!” Remus shouted over the other party goers - Sirius paid him no mind. 

“I thought it would be fun! It’d be like a Sirius Black themed Halloween Party in honour of your birthday coming up!” 

Sirius' beaming smile fell into something softer as he trailed his thumb over your bottom lip. 

“You guys are too good to me.” He murmured, Dorcas sidling up beside him to look at the two of you incredulously. 

“Uhm, I find they’re rather mean to you, Black. I mean…this whole party was basically satire at your expense.” She said, plucking Sirius’ own leather jacket he had thrown over one of Remus’ jumpers which matched the leather jackets thrown over many of the party-goers as if to cement her point. 

“Oh and you’d know all about partners being mean to you, is that it, Meadows?” Sirius challenged back. “I hear the way Marlene talks to you.” 

“Yeah but Marly’s hot; bullying each other is just our love language.” Dorcas countered, shooting Marlene a wink over her shoulder which was quickly met by Marlene flipping her the bird. 

“Yeah well, pranking is ours.” James added with a pleased sigh as he and Remus joined the conversation. 

“I know it’s technically my birthday already,” Sirius started with a challenging look being shot at Remus as he reached into his jacket pocket, “but I got you a gift, Moons.” 

Sirius handed three small boxes that held six coasters each - each coaster in the shape of a vinyl record. 

“Awe, thanks Pads.” Remus said casually before shoving them back at his boyfriend. “Happy birthday Sirius! Use a sodding coaster.”

And to your absolute delight, everyone in the flat - in true Sirius Black fashion - chorused “okay Moons”, resulting in raucous laughter as drinks were passed out and the party finally commenced.

[eleonoraalbright]

An Ill-Timed Confession Part 1

Pairing: Peter Pan x fem!reader (kinda)

Summary: You tell Henry about your romantic feelings towards Peter Pan. Unfortunately for you, he turns out not to be Henry.

The citizens of Storybrooke gathered in Granny’s diner to celebrate. Most wore big jovial smiles and talked excitedly to their companions. You took note of the absolute happiness that seemed to radiate from David and Mary Margret. Nevertheless, their daughter was uneasy, as if she half expected the Pied Piper himself to waltz through the doors and rip her son’s heart out.

You felt sorry for Emma’s needless worrying, but understood where it stemmed from. After all, many restless nights would have to be endured before you forgot Pan’s threats in Neverland, not that you wanted to forget every single comment of his just yet. You pushed that particular thought back deep in your mind where it would have to be reconsidered later. You chose to focus on more trivial matters.

Hook was seated at the bar, drinking with the boisterous dwarves. It didn’t escape your notice how often his gaze flickered between the Savior and her ex-boyfriend; Neal left his place beside Henry to chat with Mother Superior. You eyed the pirate’s ill-natured manner with interest when Ruby interrupted your musings of his unfortunate predicament by placing a steaming mug of apple cider on the counter.

You accepted the hot beverage, maneuvering your way through the crowded restaurant and slid into the booth to sit across from Henry. His attention was directed to the storybook in front of him. Even upside down, you recognized the illustration of Cinderella dancing at the ball with her prince. Henry glanced up, seeming apprehensive at your arrival, he tensed for some strange reason. His fingers tapped the edge of the smooth paper.

You offered him a reassuring smile. It would be reasonable for his nerves to be a bit frayed after his harrowing adventure. You blew on your drink and asked in a quiet tone, “How’re you holding up?”

“Good. It’s good to be back here with my family.”

You nodded your head in agreement. That was the understatement of the year. The distress and danger he went through the past few days must have been unimaginable. People often said kids were resilient, however, it was odd how unfazed Henry was at being reunited with his loving family. Odder still was his cold and distant attitude towards you. This was the first genuine conversation you two had exchanged since his capture. It was unlike him to keep to himself for so long.

You were close friends and confidants. It was worrisome for Henry to be this reserved around you. What had happened in Neverland that would have caused such an abrupt change? The next second, you berated yourself for such a thought, having one’s heart torn out would have drastic mental consequences. It was possible he wasn’t comfortable discussing his feelings yet. On the other hand, it would be harmful if he kept them bottled up inside his mind to fester.

The best course of action was to respect his silence and hope in time he would open up. You took another sip of cider while Henry went back to reading. The message was clear; he had no interest in talking any further. The temptation to leave was strong, but you remained in your seat. There was a question you were desperate for Henry to answer, the sooner the better. You blurted out, “What was he like?”

He glanced at you again. “Who?”

“Peter Pan. What was he like? I only met him a handful of times on the island, and he was pretty intimidating. How did he act around you? I mean, Pan was deranged, how’d he manage to convince you to give up your heart?”

Henry shrugged and flipped a page before replying. “He told me magic was dying and my heart was needed to save it. I believed him. And he was…” Henry shivered a little. “He was scary. I’m glad he’s gone.”

You propped your elbows on the table and rested your chin in the palm of your hand, waiting for him to elaborate. He didn’t. Henry reached for his glass of root beer, refusing to utter one more word. You sighed, “Too bad he was a psychopath. Pan was kinda hot.”

Henry spat out his drink, spewing the soft drink all over the table and its contents. You grabbed a handful of napkins and dabbed them on the storybook. “Henry, be careful you almost ruined it!” Emma paused speaking to her parents and shot you both a quizzical look. You waved the wet napkins at her, signaling everything was fine, only a little spill had happened.

“What did you say?” Henry wasn’t the least bit concerned about the precious book. His eyes were wide and his mouth somewhat agape.

“I know, I know, he was a murderer and evil and wanted to kill all of us. But in my defense, he was attractive.”

Henry said nothing for a solid minute, and stared at you as if an extra head had grown from your neck. You were beginning to worry that the poor boy’s brain had broken upon hearing your staggering statement.

As the seconds ticked by you began to regret saying your astonishing confession aloud. Your attraction to Pan was something you had been grappling with ever since laying eyes on him.

You shamed yourself for feeling this way toward such a revolting person, but that would not dampen them. During the adventure, it had been eating you alive from the inside out.

The rest of the group had been debating over the best way to save Henry, how to rescue Neal, and the complications of getting off the Island. Meanwhile, you had been battling the guilt of being enamored with your best friend’s captor.

Near the end of the journey, you made peace with this upsetting fact by realizing you could acknowledge Pan’s attractiveness and still hate his guts for kidnapping Emma’s son.

Though the shock on Henry’s face made you question the wisdom of admitting this so soon after the terrible ordeal. You were on the brink of explaining your more nuanced views to him on this delicate subject when his expression changed.

The corners of his lips turned upward in a disbelieving smirk as he raised one eyebrow in wonderment. He said in a soft voice, almost to himself, “You… like Pan?”

The grin spread wider across his face and he covered his mouth with a hand to muffle the sound of his laughter. His body shook in a fit of merriment. He pointed a finger at you; his eyes contained a mocking glint which was quite foreign to them. “You have a crush on Pan!”

You were uncomfortable at his reaction, but believed it was somewhat deserved. Gesturing to him to lower his voice, you attempted to hobble together a defense. “Not really a crush per say, I–”

Henry interrupted, “That’s so gross. He's– he’s Rumpelstiltskin's dad!”

“That’s true, but it just makes me wonder whether or not Mr. Gold was that good looking in his younger days,” you joked.

He shuddered at that remark and twisted his features into one of disgust. “Ew, I’ll never understand girls.” Puzzled at your stance on his villainous great grandfather, Henry probed, “Why did you like him?”

“Like is a strong word. I didn’t like him. He was gonna kill us all for Pete’s sake, but I did observe that Pan was blessed… genetically speaking.”

A mischievous air hung about Henry as he inched forward in his seat, tilting his head close to yours, and whispered in a low tone. “Tell me, do you fantasize about Peter Pan?”

Your mouth dropped open at his blunt question. You replied in a strained voice, “Henry, that’s a very inappropriate thing to ask.” What on earth had possessed him to say that?

Moments earlier, he was repulsed at the prospect of you harboring secret feelings for Pan and now he was inquiring whether or not you fantasize about his relative!

It was your turn for your brain to stop working. Henry had never, never asked you such a personal question in all your years of friendship. This was most unlike him.

Was there a chance he had bashed his head on a rock somewhere to justify this sudden change of personality? He leaned back into the booth. “That alone gives me my answer.”

Before you could chastise him for his nauseatingly smug attitude, Emma sauntered next to the table. “Sorry to break up the chit chat, kid, it’s time for something you didn’t have in Neverland. Bedtime.”

Henry closed his book, disappointed for having to leave so soon. You were quite relieved; however, sensing Henry was having far too much fun with this knowledge at his fingertips. You were too stunned at your friend’s response to see he had left with Regina and not Emma.

That conversation had left a bad taste in your mouth. Something wasn’t right with Henry and it made you uneasy. Regret at having confessed your passing fancy towards Peter Pan seeped through you. It could be that this Neverland escapade still had a few loose ends that needed to be tied up.

You help David and Emma cover Mother Superior's body with a blanket. You shoved your trembling fingers in your coat’s pockets. Your eyes darted up to the sky and scanned for any sign of the one who did this. You didn’t feel safe. At any moment you could meet the same fate as well. The danger was lurking around the corner and–

“What the hell happened?”

You jumped slightly as Regina and Henry raced up to your group.

David answered her. “The shadow, it killed her.”

“Pan’s shadow? I trapped it on the sail.” Regina was confused.

“Yeah, well, it got free.” Emma said while crouching on the steps.

Comprehension dawned on everyone as they realized what that meant. Pan was back. You moved to Henry and wrapped your arms around him in a protective gesture. All thoughts of last night's events flew from your mind.

If Pan was somehow controlling the Shadow from inside the box, then he would never stop terrorizing them until he had the Truest Believer’s Heart. Henry was going to die. The adults discussed what to do as you patted Henry on the head.

The boy said in a hollow voice, “So Pan can still hurt me?”

Regina responded to comfort him, “We don’t know that.” You knew it was inevitable he did though.

“But we have to assume he’s still a threat.” Mary Margret clasped her hands together in worry.

You added, “And that he’s after Henry.”

“Then what am I doing here?” Henry wriggled out of your grasp, looking anxious.

David said, “He’s right. He’s not safe out in the open.”

“You’ll protect me, right?” He hugged Regina as she consoled him.

You were put off at how easily he disregarded you in favor of his mother. It was like he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. But of course, it was natural for a son to turn to his mom in his time of need.

You stopped scolding yourself when you overheard Emma tell Regina that Henry didn’t seem like himself. Your feelings of unease felt vindicated now if she was aware that her son was acting a bit different. It made your head spin; what could it mean?

After convincing Mr. Gold to give up Pandora’s Box, you all drove to the edge of Storybrooke. You huddled close to Mary Margret and David, watching the red smoke swirl out of the box.

It transformed into Pan, and Emma cocked her gun. Pan stood up, breathing hard, he acted confused, and dumbfounded to see everyone's mistrustful faces. You had to admit, he was a good actor. You couldn’t believe the next words that popped out of his mouth.

“Mum?”

Emma was also taken aback. “What?”

“What are you waiting for? Shoot him,” Gold ordered.

Pan panicked. “Don’t! Please! I’m Henry. Pan, he switched our bodies.”

“You expect me to believe that?” Emma continued pointing the gun at him.

You didn’t know what to think of this situation. You wanted to trust him. It would explain Henry's peculiar actions. The other, more cynical part, of your brain was reprimanding yourself for entertaining the outlandish idea.

Pan was a master manipulator, capable of slaughtering you and your loved ones in a millisecond if it benefitted him. He toyed with people’s minds and reveled in the horrible game of it. Your sympathetic side excused that truth when seeing Pan’s face. He was hurt and betrayed. Henry, you were sure it was him, needed a friend.

You almost took a step over the red line when Gold stopped you with his cane and said, “Don’t listen to him. This is one of his tricks.”

Pan/Henry was adamant. “No, it’s not! He did it right before Mr. Gold captured me in the box. I swear!” He stepped forward, but Emma stopped him.

Holding one hand out, she commanded, “Don’t come any closer.” Mr. Gold ordered her to shoot him again. She didn’t. “Maybe he is telling the truth. Maybe that’s why I can’t shake this feeling something’s off about Henry.” Mr. Gold argued with her, but Emma asked Pan to prove his claim.

He started listing facts about Henry. They weren’t persuaded by this. Emma stated, “Pan might know facts. But life is made up of more than that. There are moments. He can’t possibly know all of them. The first time you and I connected, you remember that? Not met, but connected.”

Pan’s face softened at the happy memory. He told her the conversation they had at his castle right after she came to Storybrooke. Emma lowered her gun and embraced him. “It is Henry.”

She released him and they crossed the line into Storybrooke. Henry hugged his grandparents and you soon followed. He enveloped you in a bone crushing hug which you returned with equal joy at having your friend back. It was a little weird since every sense told you this was to all intents and purposes Peter Pan. You pulled back to examine him.

Staring into his green eyes, you squished his cheeks. “This is so surreal.” You tapped his nose. “You really look like him, ya know.” Henry laughed, a delightful but bizarre sound coming from Pan’s throat. It was too innocent.

The full impact of what was happening hit you. You retreated a couple of paces from your friends, and hid your face as mortification overcame your entire being. “Oh no.”

“What’s wrong?” Henry put a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Your face felt ablaze. If Pan was Henry, that meant… “I might’ve– I didn’t know it was him!”

Mr. Gold urged you to go on. “Yes? What is it?”

You gulped as they came closer. “Last night at Granny’s, I told Henry—who I thought was Henry—that Pan was hot.”

Both David and Mary Margret closed their eyes in exasperation. Emma stared at you, questioning your sanity. Bell grinned, and to your surprise, Mr. Gold was unbothered by this. “How tragic. However, we have larger problems that must be dealt with other than your lack of taste.”

“Do you think he’ll do anything to me for saying that to him?” You asked Henry. He had smirked at your confession, which had made your heart beat faster at the sight. You wanted to slap yourself for that reaction. Now he frowned at your inquiry.

“I don’t know. Pan might not care or he might target you because of it. Don’t worry about it. We’ll stop him.”

You climbed into the truck’s backseat. The sinking sensation settled in your stomach despite Henry reassuring you everything would turn out for the better. Peter Pan had a plan and it would lead to everyone’s ruin. Your only hope was that he wasn’t concocting a special method of torture for you since laying open your abashed feelings towards him.

(The previous night)

In the body of his grandson, Pan walked arm-in-arm with Regina down the sidewalk to her home. It was loathsome having to humor the woman while she talked to whom she believed was her son. He answered her relentless questions to the best of his ability, keeping his replies vague and unassuming.

She didn’t seem to heed his noncommittal responses. He was impatient for this part of his scheme to be done. He restrained his strong desire to kill her this instant because he had to find her vault first. Pan distracted himself from that impulse by thinking of what you had told him.

It would be beyond humiliating for you when you found out the truth. He couldn’t wait to see your gobsmacked expression when he revealed his true identity, and made Storybrooke into the New Neverland.

Peter Pan would make you regret ever spilling your secrets to him. He was eager to make you into his new plaything, to see how long it took you to cry, to break. He wondered how far over the edge he could drive you. Grateful for the limited light, he allowed a cruel, sadistic smile to form on his lips. This was all too perfect and pleasurable for him.

[sunshinemunchkin]

Hey Mary 👋❤️🫂🥺

I missed you the most 🫶🫂

I have this idea since yesterday, living in my head and now I can’t get over it.

Benedict Bridgerton and Cinderella au (yes, cinderella is my favourite disney movie) 😳 actually I can just imagine him like he is so sweet, poetic and a gentle man. He would do everything for the reader.

I'm getting carried away now, sorry for rambling 🙈

ramble all you want jacky!! i’ve missed you too 🙈🥰 i put my own twist on it, and took it literally! hope you like it. just something to dust off the old writing skills. :))

benedict bridgerton is anything if not poetic. he’s complimented his way into a dance. your entire personality, appearance, and attitude captivated him the second you walked through the doors.

problem is… he has no clue who you are.

lady danbury throws the best balls of the season, if he says so himself, but god forbid the mamas hear him. however, she has imagination, he will credit her that. this ball in particular, is a masquerade ball. one complete with shiny masks, all of which gave him an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

that is until you walked in.

your mask matched your dress in perfection. a dark pink to accentuate your lighter dress of the same shade. a blush, is that correct? perhaps madame delacroix would be proud of his remembrance of the various shades of pink and blue and how they were not all just pink and blue.

your eyes stared through him and he felt his heart drop as soon as you looked away. you didn’t titter or smile seductively at him. no, you, instead, lifted your chin higher, walking into the ballroom and looking around the room. like a predator, waiting for her prey. to which, he was more than happy to grant you with the satisfaction. lifting his own green mask to his face once more, he followed you inwards. into the lions den.

swarmed immediately by anxious mothers and their overeager daughters, he politely excused himself from them all, eyes locked in on you. you were in his sights, and when he was close enough, he let his hand graze your gloves wrist. you, of course, flinch backwards. “my apologies, miss. however, you caught my attention since you entered. would you be so kind as to share a dance with me?”

you in all your glory, grinned, taking the hand outstretched to you. “it would be my pleasure, my lord.” he grins, the song (some waltz benedict notes in his head for later so he can ask francessca the title as he should like to remember this moment forever) begins, the dance floor fills up quickly, you and benedict at the center of it all.

throughout the night, you dance with the man until your feet hurt. spinning until you’re seeing stars, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. that is, upon sharing a lemonade outside with the man, you hear the twelve chimes.

benedict is mid laughter at something you’ve said, he’s taken his mask off, you not being able to bring yourself to do so. however, you do leave your shoes on the sill. unethical and you can practically feel the mothers commenting on such a blatant disregard for societal standards. but the man beside you doesn’t seem to mind. you get the sense that he has been in your shoes, not literally of course. but in the way that he doesn’t care what society thinks of him or what he does.

“you really are too much, where did you say you resided?” you smile around your glass, sipping gently and leaning on the railing. “i didn’t.” he hums, hip jutting out as he examines you. you feel warm under his gaze. about to answer, the clock’s bell rings loud in your head from inside the house, your blood rushing cold.

benedict catches onto the unsettling contortion of your face. “is something wrong?” you look back at him in horror, and a tint of sadness. “i’m- i’m so sorry. i must be going. i did not- i did not notice the time, it is late for me. a thousand apologies.” youre stammering over your words, rushing out of the house, calling back once more. “i did enjoy my time tonight, ben!” he smiles confusedly, but smiling nonetheless.

a heavy sighs casts over his chest, leaning his arm on the railing, his fingers knocking into your shoes that you’ve left behind. he takes them gingerly in his hands, turning them over to examine where the soles of your feet pressed into them and wore them black inside. how the heel was chipped on the outside, and how a couple gems were missing.

they were we loved. something he didn’t think was possible by members of the ton. he couldn’t think of any time where the girls he knew and grew up with wore a pair of shoes to the brink of their decay. not even his own sisters. but you? you either loved these shoes the most, or they were one of your very few pairs.

“i do relish a good puzzle.” he mumbles to himself, the pink gems grazing over his fingers as he awaits the end of the night, so he can begin his search for you tomorrow.

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

The Masquerade was a perfect place for Lily to find love. It was silly that she desired that for a woman of her time. Not when her two friends were revolutionary.

Mary, for example, as soon as she walked into the room, was surrounded by many men. She knew she was pretty and she took advantage of that. She chose a random gentleman to dance as she winked to her friends.

Marlene rolled her eyes. She was different from girls around her. She was bold. And didn't take anything from anyone. She thought husbands were useless and as soon as she was asked to dance by a gentleman, she rejected him and went directly to the food table.

Lily loved her friends. And the genuine way they were. But Lily was an old fashioned girl. She wanted to find her prince charming and fall in love.

Lily scanned the room hoping for something magical. She liked her white dress and her mask tonight. Surely someone would notice her.

But boys were busy dancing with their respective girls. Or staring at prettier ones.

Resigned, Lily accompanied Marlene to the food table, just to observe the dancing couples as always.

"So dreadful these parties, am I right?" Marlene asked, making Lily smile. "And these shoes are killing me" she added touching her heels "I don't know how Mary can dance with so many boys without resting"

Lily loved it all. The dresses, heels, creative masks, dancing, music. It felt like a magical night to meet someone.

"Would want some lemonade?" Lily asked with a smile.

When she turned to grab a glass, she accidentally touched someone's hand. Someone who had wanted the same glass. More precisely a gentleman.

Lily couldn't see his face. He was dressed with a blue clothes. And he was wearing a very strange mask. It reminded Lily of a lion. But his soft curls stuck from the top of his head. And Lily liked his smile. It was charming and white, making him handsome. His eyes were shining through the holes of his mask.

"Sorry... I..."

They had also wanted to take the last lemonade on the table. The boy didn't speak. He took the glass and offered it to Lily with a bow.

"Are you sure you don't want it?"

The boy shook his head and told Lily with his hands that it was hers.

"Well... Thanks" Lily blushed. He was so mysterious but such a gentleman.

"I'm Lily. What's your name?"

The boy answered with a smile. His eyes fixated on her.

"You are not going to tell me your name?"

He offered his hand to Lily instead. He ducked his head towards the dance floor.

"Do you want to dance with me?"

He nodded. God, why couldn't he speak? Although Lily liked the mystery.

"Ahmm... I was kind of accompanying my friend..." But when Lily turned, she realized Marlene was gone.

The boy kept offering her his hand. Lily wanted to dance. She wanted to dance so badly. So she took his hand and they walked to the dance floor.

They became the center of attention amongst guests. It felt easy to follow the choreography with this new mysterious dance partner.

They waltzed across the floor like in the Victorian era. Her right hand on his shoulder. His left hand touching shyly her hip. Their other hands intertwined with each other. They spinned and spinned.

Each movement was synchronized. Lily felt sure with each turn. Even when the boy lifted her into his arms. They kept staring at each other's eyes nonstop. It felt as if the rest of the world disappeared. And in fact, when Lily looked around, the place was deserted. Only the two of them were left. Though Lily didn't care about the fact. She was fascinated by the way she fitted perfectly with this man.

The boy showed her his perfect charming white smile the whole time. Lily was sure she had fallen in love with it. She loved the way he grabbed her, the way he lead the dance and the way in which he stared at her like she was the most beautiful person in the world. Lily was speechless. Maybe this could be her prince charming, the love of his life.

That was why when Lily was lifted from her hips once again, and she dropped to the floor, staring into those eyes that had many different colors, Lily had to know who this boy was. She wanted to see his face.

And apparently he wanted the same, because the minute the dance was over, and they kept looking at each other intensely, he reached for Lily's mask, wanting to take it off. He did it smoothly with care. And when finally the mask was off and Lily blinked at him, his eyes traveled through her face widely.

"God, you're beautiful" he finally said as he gently touched her cheek.

His voice surprised Lily because, one, she didn't expect him to speak, two, his voice sounded closely familiar and three, it was a sexy hoarse one.

Lily was frozen for a second, thinking about the voice. That was why she was surprised when he leaned for a kiss.

It was everything she had ever wished for. Lily enjoyed every second of it. That boy had the capacity of taking her breath away while making her shiver. She felt the butterflies in her belly as she ran her fingers through his soft hair. He was grabbing her waist just right as he pulled her closer. Later, he moved his hand to touch her cheek and caress it delicately.

This was surely what being in love felt like. This was what a kiss was supposed to feel like. Lily could feel sparks around them.

When he pulled away, Lily's lips tickled. She was out of words, out of thoughts, out of air itself.

Then she smiled. She was so happy to have had experienced that. And her kisser was reflecting her happiness.

Lily had to see his face.

Her hands reached out for his mask. He didn't stop her. Lily took her time to take it off.

When the boy's face was finally revealed it took Lily some time to place that familiar face. Chocolate milk skin, hazel eyes, wild soft black curls, dimples, and somehow... Glasses? That smile: playful and childish as always.

When he ran his fingers through his hair in that unique way, Lily knew who it was.

"Hey Evans"

"Potter?!?"

Lily felt all the hurricane of feelings that she used to feel for this man: loathe, care, exasperation, confusion, laughter, and a strange urge to yell at him. But also to kiss him again. Hate and love at the same time.

"I knew you wanted to kiss me" Potter said with that mocking tone she desperately hated on him.

But before she could tell him to fuck off, Potter grabbed Lily by her waist and pulled her into another heated kiss.

Lily whined and protested as her lips crashed into his, but as soon as she tasted them again, Lily melted into the kiss and into his arms. Now all she felt was love, love, love. The most strange kind of passion. Her heart raced and she felt goosebumps all over her body. Love, love... Love? This was bloody James Potter!

That was when Lily woke up in a start. Her mind played over and over again the scenes from her dream. The dancing, the flirting, the kissing... Fucking hell! It had been only a dream. But... With James Potter? It all had seemed so real.

"What the heck?" Lily said out loud into the dark and then covered her mouth as she remembered her friends might be sleeping.

Lily looked down to her lap where an open book was laying up side down. Her night lamp was still on. She had fallen asleep while reading until late again... And what was the book?... Oh Pride and Prejudice, of course! Like Petunia used to tell her, reading too much romantic novels was going to melt her brain one day.

James Potter was not a bloody target of her affections. She had been thinking about Luke Gardener as a potential prospect. Not him!

It was that Potter had been different lately. And they had been friendly sort of. The other day he had even given her advice about Luke. Potter had been snogging Rebecca Johnson lately as well.

James and Lily were just friends. Not even friends! Politely close, people might say... So why in the world did Potter come into her dreams?

[your-divine-ribs]

One For The Wedding Album Part 1

Words: 3.7k

I’ve been asked for Part 2 of this and it’s still in my drafts and I do promise to complete it one day 🌸

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

"For fuck's sake! Who requested Mr Brightside again?" You squeal tipsily.

The music's pounding and your head is spinning, a giddy feeling taking over as you feel a large hand close over one of yours as someone tugs you on to the dancefloor and spins you around to face them.

"John, I can't dance anymore, my feet are killing me!" You cry over the music, but Bondy's not hearing any of it, shaking his head at your protesting, pointing down at the strappy satin covered stiletto heels that you're wearing.

"Told ya you should have worn your docs!" Bondy chuckles. "Never see ya out of those bloody things, so why should today be any different?"

You roll your eyes playfully at him. "Oh yeah, they'd look great with my dress! Really elegant! Sure Van would have loved that!"

"I know you could carry it off though lass... and I don't think our Van would have minded what you turned up in today." He's still got your hand clasped tightly in his, lifted up, his other hand on your waist, and he's leading you around the dancefloor in a much less sophisticated version of an old-fashioned waltz, twirling you around every so often, making your head spin even more.

You're on top of the world. You're with all your family and friends, the drinks are flowing and you've been smiling so wide and for so long that your cheeks are actually starting to ache. You're having the absolute best day of your whole life. Exactly six hours and fifteen minutes ago you'd said "I do" to the one man who you'd loved since the very first moment you'd clapped eyes on him. You're a married woman. And not just any married woman. You're Mrs McCann.

Just the mere thought of your new name is enough to set off that daft, goofy smile on your face again but you don't have time to ponder it for long. The whole function room bursts into song again at the chorus, screeching out the well-known and much-loved lyrics at the tops of their lungs.

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies, choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay, destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes, 'cause I'm Mr. Brightside

"No more... no more... my feet are seriously gonna drop off!" You whine, twisting yourself out of Bondy's arms, ignoring his pleas for you to kick off your shoes and just let loose, promising him that you'll be back to dance with him later on.

Your eyes scan the room, taking in wide beaming smiles wherever you look. Your dad and Bernie are having what looks like some ridiculous kind of dad-dancing dance-off competition, your mum and Mary are setting the world to rights over a bottle of champagne and your best friend and chief bridesmaid Kerry is drunkenly and very provocatively draped over a rather flustered looking Bob, much to Benji's delight. He's taken Bob's Polaroid camera and is snapping away, immortalising the moment. You giggle to yourself, taking a swig from your half-drunken glass of bubbly before setting it down on a nearby table.

Now where did that husband of yours get to...?

Husband...

You let the word roll around inside your head for a bit, trying it out for size, seeing how it feels. You even find yourself whispering it under your breath, a flurry of excited butterflies teaming in your belly as the concept starts to finally sink in. Today is just the start of it. The first day of the rest of your lives together. For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, till death us do part and all that jazz.

You're so caught up in your thoughts you don't notice the tall figure right behind you until you feel large hands on your hips, making you jump and whirl quickly around.

"There you are! Where did you disappear off to? Was just about to send out a search party!"

"Just been out for a smoke with Larry, that's all love. I'm here now."

Van's looking decidedly less suave now than he did when you were standing in front of the altar together earlier that afternoon. His hair's all mussed up, his tie's askew and the flowers in his button-hole have wilted, but the sparkle that's been simmering in those gorgeous blue eyes is still present. In fact he's positively glowing as he looks at you, deeply into your eyes before his gaze slips lower, shamelessly raking over your body.

You know that look. You've seen it a million times before over the course of your relationship. And you know exactly what's coming next.

"Fancy... errr... sneaking off for a bit? You know... just me and you... somewhere quiet?"

As he talks his fingers slide down to your hips, flexing there, his own hips pushing forward to just barely brush yours.

You smirk up at him. "Thought the whole idea of getting married was about you making an honest woman out of me?"

"Yeah well, I've never fucked a married woman before," he grins. "The thought's kinda turning me on if I'm honest. C'mon Y/N, no one'll miss us. I've been dying to get my hands on you all day since you walked into that church."

You shake your head, tutting loudly. "Impure thoughts in church? How very unholy of you."

"I can't help it babe, you look gorgeous in that dress. Don't even wanna take it off when I fuck you, wanna ruin you in it whilst you're looking all pure and pretty."

"Van!" You cry, your hand shooting up to your mouth, your cheeks aflame, giggling loudly.

He knows damn well how much his dirty talk turns you on and you're tempted. You really are. You glance around, seeing everyone dancing and drinking and having fun.

He's right, even though you two are the stars of the show today you don't think anyone would miss you if you were to disappear off for a little while. There's no denying the thought of Van pressing you into the wall of the toilet cubicle whilst he's hitching up the pristine silk of your virginal ivory white dress has set off a throbbing heat between your thighs, but you're having so much fun you don't want to miss a second of the celebrations. And besides, you'll have all the time in the world at the end of the night. You have the bridal suite booked with its gigantic king sized bed and sumptuous satin sheets, a mini bar stocked with champagne on ice and a huge sunken bath. You can take your time with one another then.

"C'mon..." he urges, that irresistible cheeky grin of his playing on his lips. "Ya know you want to."

You place your hands over his, leaning into him and planting a sweet, chaste kiss on those lips, drawing back slightly but staying close so you can whisper teasingly into his ear. "The best thing's come to those who wait... and you're just gonna have to wait!"

Then you're off, ignoring his protestations, entwining one of your hands in his and leading him in the opposite direction to his intended plans, straight on to the dancefloor where a Van Morrison track has just started to play. Bernie immediately makes a beeline for his son, stealing him away from you so he can clap a hand around his shoulder and sway drunkenly to the melody as they animatedly belt out the lyrics in unison.

Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance

With the stars up above in your eyes

A fantabulous night to make romance

'Neath the cover of October skies

You watch them for a moment before Bondy's there again, reaching for you and twirling you around until you're giggling and dizzy, laughing and stumbling, falling into his arms.

An hour's past and the party's still in full flow. Larry and Bondy have been up dancing on the tables, Benji's been throwing some serious shapes on the dancefloor and even Bob's letting his hair down. You noticed Kerry sneakily leading him away to a dimmed corner of the function room after their slow dance had looked like it was getting a little heated. They're currently making out like high-schoolers would around the back of the bike-sheds. You wonder whether Bob will still remember it tomorrow when he awakens with a sore head and remnants of Kerry's lipstick all over his face.

Van's trapped in between two older female relatives who are fussing and preening over him and his eyes keep darting to you with a pleading "help me" type of expression. You just grin and lean in to take a shot with Bob's camera, laughter erupting from you when one of Van's aunts puckers up to press a sloppy kiss on his cheek, telling him what a handsome boy he is.

"Smile for the camera Van!" You chortle, ignoring the helpless look in his eyes when the other aunt leans and and starts ruffling his hair, talking about how it needs a good cut.

Then you're dancing away, taking snap-shots as you go, capturing those perfect and sometimes hilarious moments in time for your wedding album so that you and Van can look back on them in the weeks and months and even years to come, fondly remembering your special day.

"Oi blushing bride, aren't you supposed to be the one in front of the camera today?"

Kerry's suddenly at your side, snatching the camera out of your hands and turning the lens on you. You yelp in surprise but recover quickly, leaning in with your hands on your hips and a saucy pout whilst she snaps away.

"Oh my god Y/N, you look so beautiful today," she gushes as she retrieves one of the freshly printed photos to admire. "I hope Van realises what a lucky man he is to have you. I don't think he deserves you to be honest. Think I might just have to steal you away for myself!"

She hooks her arm through yours and makes like she's turning for the door, then you're both falling about laughing, holding the Polaroid up to snap a few daft, crazy-faced selfies. You're laughing that much that you've got tears of mirth brimming in your eyes and starting to track down your cheeks. You go to brush one away with the heel of your hand when you notice a black smear on your skin and you let out a groan.

"Ah shit! I knew I should have bought waterproof mascara for today. It was bad enough when I was sobbing at Van's vows but look at me now. I must look like a panda bear!" You turn towards Kerry, tilting your face up to hers. "Is it bad? Is it fixable? I must look such a mess!"

Your friend just laughs, shaking her head. "You look absolutely fine... gorgeous as always! If you don't believe me go and look for yourself!"

You gather up the silky layers of your dress and rush off in the direction of the toilets, cursing when you get there and you realise that you've brought Bob's camera with you in your haste to fix your make-up. The last thing you want is to drop his precious camera on the tiled bathroom floor, especially when he'd shyly admitted that he'd brought it with him especially tonight to gift it to you as a special wedding present to preserve the memories of the day. You place it carefully down on the side of the sink and step back to look at your reflection.

Your dress is gorgeous. Even as modest and unassuming as you are you can't help but admit that you do look stunning in it. It has a beautifully cut bodice embellished with tiny diamantés and freshwater pearls and a breathtaking full layered skirt which floats around your feet like you're walking on clouds. Even your less than sentimental dad had shed a tear and mumbled that you looked like a Disney Princess in it.

It's just a shame that the rest of you doesn't look quite so pristine now. Your hair which had been painstakingly curled and styled around the delicate tiara is now hanging around your bare shoulders in wild cascading waves and your make up is smudged. You're not even sure where your tiara is but you'd last sighted it perched on Bondy's head a few hours previously.

You run a fingertip gently under your eye to try and collect the mascara and eyeliner that's ran, but you just end up smudging it even more.

Despite what your best friend says in your opinion you look a mess... a gorgeous mess but a mess all the same... but maybe that's not such a bad thing after all...

Your thoughts stray to a few weeks back and a wild passionate night with Van after you'd stumbled home in the early hours, how you'd huffed at your reflection in the bathroom mirror and reached for a wipe to clear off your ruined make-up. How Van had snuck up behind you and grasped your wrist, telling you that no... he liked it... that seeing you all raw and disheveled like this in gorgeous disarray turned him on. He'd fucked you right there and then over the sink, pressing you into the cold hard porcelain whilst he'd grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at your reflection, telling you how beautiful you were when he made you fall apart for him. The thought makes warmth rise to your cheeks and it's not the only part of you that's heating up.

You squirm where you stand, pressing your thighs together, feeling the whisper of soft lace between your legs, thinking about the stunning ivory set you'd purchased especially for this day. You just know Van will go wild when he catches sight of it. But not yet... he's going to have to wait.

Teasing him is so much fun though...

An idea comes to you suddenly in a flash of wicked inspiration and you quickly hitch up your dress and take a naughty snap in the mirror, angled just right to show Van a glimpse of the alluring treat he'll get if he behaves himself and bides his time. Then you take another shot holding the camera aloft and looking up at the lens through your smoky, smudged loaded lashes, wide eyed and sultry looking, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. Perfect.

You emerge from the toilets shortly after and you don't have to look very hard to find Van this time. As soon as your lock eyes with his across the dancefloor he strides straight over with purpose.

"Baby..." he drawls, dragging out the word slow and smooth, a hand curling around your waist, drawing you in. "If I didn't know any better I'd think my gorgeous new wife was trying to avoid me. Ya wouldn't do that would ya?"

"Of course not, I was just coming to find you actually. Got you a little... errr... wedding gift." You hold up the camera whilst you're talking and Van's attention shifts to see what you're holding, puzzlement creasing his brow.

"Oh yeah? What's that then?"

You produce the Polaroid photos, keeping them raised up and away from Van's seeking hand when he goes to take them, fixing him with a look that's pure seductiveness, ramping up the intrigue.

"Ahh, no you don't... not yet. Think you've been a good boy so far, so I'm sure you can wait a little longer. Just thought you might like a little taster of what you'll be getting later..."

Then you slip the photos quickly into the breast pocket of his jacket, nudging aside the flowers in his buttonhole, patting the material with teasing fingers as you look up at him, informing him that he'll have to wait his turn as there's another man who's been craving your attention all evening too.

As you back away to find your dad for that slow dance that you'd promised him earlier, you keep your eyes on Van, watching his reaction as he quickly slips the photos out for a sneaky look. Just as predicted his eyes go wide and his jaw goes slack, the unmistakable longing etched all over his awed expression as he meets your gaze across the dancefloor with a hungry look that can only mean one thing.

You're gonna get it later...

You smile lasciviously, your belly flipping somersaults at the thought of consummating the life vows you made to each other that very afternoon.

Sex had never been a priority in your life before you'd met Van, it was just another element of your past relationships that although enjoyable had never really filled you with the insatiable need that Van had sparked in you the first night that you'd met. He'd come crashing into your life one evening at a festival that you'd both attended, a whirlwind of chaotic energy and endearing goofiness as you'd both shamelessly fan-girled and fan-boyed over the Arctic Monkeys in their headline slot. With a very newly recorded debut album under his belt, you weren't familiar with Catfish at the time and would never have dreamed for one moment that Van  himself was destined to follow in your idols footsteps and burst into the music scene with quite such aplomb. You also never would have dared to dream that the sparkly-eyed, floppy-haired indie boy that caught your attention that fateful night would end up stealing your heart in such a way that he did, but yet here you were, five years on, proving all the nay-sayers wrong, embarking on the next chapter of your life together. You were perfect together in all the ways that mattered... and as for the sex... it was pretty mind-blowing.

You catch Van's eye as your dad twirls you around yet again, the opening bars of another familiar song sparking a memory in you. It's the song that was playing on the radio when Van proposed to you, another Van Morrison tune. He'd been planning an overblown romantic gesture for his proposal featuring heart-shaped balloons and dozens of roses, taking you completely by surprise when you were out at a planned family meal, but he just couldn't wait.

When he'd seen you there in the kitchen that momentous afternoon just over a year ago, kneading cookie dough with a dusting of flour in your hair and a telltale smudge of chocolate on your lips, he'd thought you'd just looked so adorable... so beautiful... so goddamn perfect... that he couldn't wait another second to ask you to be his wife. The sparkling solitaire diamond platinum ring he'd taken to carrying around with him for weeks had been quite literally burning a hole in his pocket, and he'd dropped down on to his knees right there and then on the kitchen floor, much to your shock and delighted surprise, professing his undying love whilst he'd slid the ring on to your finger. It had been a perfect moment, one that you'd treasure forever, slow dancing whilst he'd held you tightly in his arms, and your life had since been made up of many of these perfect moments.

"I hate to steal her away from you, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut in for this song."

Van's voice in your ear and his hand on your dad's shoulder brings you both to a halt, stilling your dance, and your dad lets you go.

He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you in, close enough that your hips are touching as you begin to sway.

"Got you on your own at last," he looks down on you, dipping his head to plant a small, sweet kiss on your lips. "I can't believe we actually did it babe. Married... the two of us. This is it now... we're gonna spend the rest of our lives together. I hope you're gonna still love me when I'm old and wrinkly."

"Of course I will," you tell him. "I'll always love you... just like I always have. Think I did the first moment I laid eyes on you to be honest."

Van chuckles. "You sure about that? I was a right state at that festival! Remember when you said you wanted to get up on my shoulders and I tripped over and we ended up in a heap on the floor?"

You laugh at the memory. "And you also spilt a whole pint of lager over me if I remember rightly... then instead of apologising you asked if I needed any help getting out of my wet clothes."

Van face palms dramatically, groaning. "God I really was a creep wasn't I? What the hell did you see in me?"

"You made me laugh. You were just so goofy and cute... and adorable... even with the shit chat-up lines."

You drape your hands over his shoulders, looking up at him, your fingers twisting through the hair at the nape of his neck. "And now here we both are..."

"Here we are," he echoes, a faraway look about him like he's caught up in a dream. "And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else. You're the love of my life Y/N."

Again he bows his head to press a soft, lingering kiss on your lips. When you pull apart the grin he's wearing stretches wide on his face as he starts to mouth the words of the song to you.

"And when I'm returning, from so far away

She gives me some sweet lovin'

Brightens up my day

And it makes me righteous, and it makes me whole

And it makes me mellow, down into my soul"

You giggle as he takes your hand and twirls you around, happy and carefree. When you fall back into his arms, he pulls you even closer into his body, impossibly tight.

"She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love... She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love..."

He croons the chorus into your ear before pulling back to look deep into your eyes and the rest of the room seems to melt away. You're exactly where you want to be, it feels like the universe is aligned just right in that moment and everything else is just background noise, orbiting distantly around you both.

And in case you were wondering… this tumblr post was the inspiration for this fic! Part 2 to come…

[youcalledmebabe]

POV for the ask game <333

no excuses writing meme

thanks rie!! here’s the beginning of visions made of flesh and light (Joe’s Version).

Joe’s nervous. He can’t believe that he’s nervous about seeing Web again, but here he is, at the back of a book signing line, clutching Web’s old copy of North of Boston and feeling a bit like he might throw up.

He’d been late, only catching the tail end of Web’s reading, and unable to secure a spot near the front. But it had been better that way; getting to hear Web’s voice first, like a familiar radio show that hadn’t been broadcast in ages. Dipping his toes into the sea that was Web instead of plunging in headfirst and drowning. This gave him time to come up with his opening line. Figured you might want this back. I know it’s six years overdue.

Six years without Web. Six years without teasing and bickering. It had been six years since he saw Web’s smile, since he heard him laugh, since he kissed that beautiful mouth. Six years, and it was all his fault, but he’s here now, isn’t he? He’s going to make it right. Whatever Web wants, he’ll do. He knows Web is stingier with his forgiveness than Joe is but that’s fine with him. Joe’s worked hard every day of his life and Web is a prize worth winning.

The line moves slowly—who knew this many people cared about Web’s book about the two of them? Joe is torn between wanting to tease him about it and feeling unabashed pride. All that scribbling had amounted to something after all. The fact that he’d been the muse for it made it all the better.

He floats on the feeling of smugness before he catches a glimpse of Web, just three people away now, and has to duck behind a bookshelf. Web looks…well, Web looks fucking gorgeous, even though his hair is too long, and messy, and he has stubble. He looks like a real writer, in a blue sweater that probably costs more than Joe earns in a month, and Joe suddenly feels like an idiot. What is he thinking, coming here? Web’s built a life for himself, one Joe has no part of.

He peers out at Web, finally finished with his scores of fans. Web stares down at the pen in his hands, mouth agape, the way it always was when he was lost in thought. The familiarity of the expression is enough to pull Joe forward. He drops North of Boston on the table in front of him.

“I’m not just signing autographs,” Web snaps. 

It irritates Joe and then the irritation fractures into delight at Web’s attitude, the bitch lurking below his polished rich boy surface.

“Yeah, because people are lining up to buy David fucking Webster’s autograph,” he scoffs.

Web keeps his eyes down and Joe’s stomach drops. Look at me, look at me, he wants to beg. My life hasn’t felt real without you seeing me. It’s the longest second of his life.

And then Web’s gaze snaps up to him. Joe watches his eyes widen and basks in his gaze. God, they really are that blue. There were times when he thought he must have made them up, slapped a technicolor filter on his memories.

“This isn’t California,” Web says, almost breathless.

Joe can’t stop the grin. “I thought you were finishing Harvard. Figured you might want this back. I know it’s like…six years overdue.”

Web flips the book over, eyes dancing over the title, still quiet. His silence makes Joe feel a little uneasy, but can he blame him for being surprised? Joe probably would’ve had a heart attack if Web had opened his cab door or waltzed into the shop asking for a haircut. A haircut he badly needed.

“You gonna charge me a fine or what, Web?” Joe prods.

The spark returns to Web’s eyes. “Sure. Buy me a drink.”

Joe would buy him a hundred drinks. What was that line from that stupid movie? You want the moon, Mary? Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Screw Mary, he thinks, it’s David Webster who deserves that. And he wishes he could say it, and six years ago he might’ve been able to, but he was braver then. Younger, more reckless, less fragile.

So instead he says, “at eleven a.m.? On a Wednesday?” 

[neo-contemporaryfailure]

A chest cold tests Olive and Jack's relationship; Jack thinks about his time with Mary.

JACK is half awake, laying face down, in bed. Olive, across the room, is pulling on a wrap dress over a leotard. 

JACK

Why are you here?

OLIVE

I've been thinking of taking a ballet class. I'm getting a bit rusty. But I enjoy our mornings in the studio much more. So imagine my surprise when I get there this morning and you aren't there-

JACK

But why are you here?

OLIVE

God forbid I see my husband in the morning. Just wanted to make sure you're alive.

JACK 

I'd never kill myself without telling you.

OLIVE

Gentleman. I wanted this dress and I wanted my shoes that match. I have a bag that goes with it at my place, I'm not sure why this dress never made it over.

JACK

Why are they here?

OLIVE

I spend too much time with you. 

JACK 

A woman's place is in her apartment. 

OLIVE 

Yet another thing we agree on. 

She looks at him with genuine affection. Disgusting (and she knows it.)  She sits next to him and messes with his hair. He half rolls over and swats her away. 

OLIVE 

(Thoroughly entertained)

Do you want me to pick you up a bottle of NyQuil? You look like shit.

JACK

No. That garbage isn't good for you.

OLIVE picks up a bottle of pills off the nightstand, she reads the label.

OLIVE

You're right. Secobarbital is all you ever need. 

She opens the drawer and puts the pill bottle in it. Among others.

OLIVE

Okay, my lord. Whose kneecaps do I have to break for getting you sick? Was it Maurice? 

JACK

I think it was the kid’s brat. Children are disgusting. 

OLIVE 

Well that's unfortunate. I have a “no killing children” rule. Guess avenging you will have to wait 12 more years.  See you at the studio tomorrow morning?

JACK gives a thumbs up. OLIVE leaves.

JACK'S MIND. Or maybe the past.

A huge stage. People around him.  Jack is 18 years old. 

Bright  lights. The ensemble is singing.

He is dancing, and has been for at this point, 7 minutes straight. 

The number changes into a waltz. He waltzes with Mary. Her eyes are serious. 

She is whisked off stage. 

The number changes again, into the culmination of the show, something big and serious that makes the audience want to stay. JACK keeps dancing, now doing tap. 

It's so aggressive. 

He continues, and continues, and continues, then, in one final moment, sticks the landing to thunderous applause. Lights go down, the curtain falls. He cannot breathe. One of the ensemble members helps him off stage.

MARY

(quiet)

I need you not to look like you're trying so hard. It's distracting.

JACK nods. He loosens his collar.

JACK

I'm trying.

MARY furrows her brow.

MARY 

Get some fresh air. You're turning purple.

Back to now.

JACK is taking a cold shower because he's a freak. His eyes are closed.

The living room. JACK enters.

OLIVE is on the sofa. She's reading a book. Her ankle is wrapped in an bandage and resting up on the arm of the sofa.

JACK

What happened?

OLIVE looks up.

OLIVE

I fucked the landing right before intermission. Greg dropped me a half moment too early and my ankle rolled and I fell flat on my face.

JACK

Why didn't you call? I would've gone down there and yelled at you.

OLIVE 

I did. You didn't answer. But I managed the second act. I'll probably be fine tomorrow, if I rest it tonight, which I'm doing and that's why I'm here instead of going all the way out to my place. Sorry if you had a flu-orgy planned tonight.

JACK shrugs and goes into the other room.

BACK in Jack's mind.

Another day from the same show as before. Something has changed, a costume or an orchestration, it's been a few days.

We are at the beginning of the tap segment. Jack is working so hard and everyone can tell it. He looks younger than he is. 

Suddenly, he stumbles, he stops dancing. He steps back.

The ensemble doesn't know what's going on, but they keep working. 

JACK gets back to it, but he's all messed up. He keeps trying. 

MARY, watching him from off stage, is confused.

He can't do it. 

He can't do any of it. He stops dancing again, he stumbles back. He falls over. The audience laughs.

MARY gestures for someone to grab him, then zips out and finishes the number herself, so casually.

A few moments later. JACK sits. Behind him is one of the ensemble members, who is sorta propping him up. So nice.

MARY enters. Everyone speaks in whispers.

MARY

Extra long intermission, I got us 10 more minutes. 

She kneels in front of Jack. She barely looks real. She looks like she's going to say something. Mary is not the type of person who can obscure frustration on her face.

MARY

We need to give him something to– does anyone have some- shoot what's it- dexedrine? Get him some of those, he'll be good to go.

Everyone looks at her like she's insane.

Back to now!

Olive is way too close to Jack. She is sitting  on his chest, staring into his soul. Jack shoves her away as he snaps back into the real world. They're in the bedroom.

OLIVE

You weren't breathing.

JACK

Yes I was.

OLIVE

I came in here and you weren't breathing. What'd you take?

JACK

Liv, I have a chest cold. I'm not shooting up heroin.

OLIVE

Heroin no. Mixing barbiturates with whatever the fuck your dealer is calling coke–

JACK

Jesus Christ. Fuck off.

OLIVE

You're freaking me out, Jack. 

JACK sits up, he's disoriented for a moment. He looks for a pack of cigarettes.

JACK

 Fucking hysterical.

Jack finds his cigarettes. Yippee. He lights one. 

OLIVE

I'm calling them and telling them to send the understudy– Don't smoke. Don't smoke, Jack, come on. 

JACK

Make me.

She grabs the cigarette. She puts it out. 

OLIVE

Let's go sit outside.

They sit on the balcony. It's mid morning. Jack has his hands over his eyes. Olive is stretching.

JACK 

How's your ankle?

OLIVE

I didn't know you had the capability to remember something from two whole days ago. Impressive. It's fine, thank you. You're so kind and considerate.

JACK

City air is making me feel worse.

OLIVE

Do I need to bring you to the seaside for your delicate constitution? Are you wasting away from consumption?

Jack doesn't get it.

JACK

I don't think so.

OLIVE

You look like a corpse.

JACK

When you were sitting on my chest, my first thought was, “I can't breathe.” My second thought was, “this bitch needs to lose 10 pounds.” No wonder Greg dropped you.

OLIVE

I cannot wait to take everything from you in the divorce.

Jack stands up. Woozy, a bit, he goes back inside. Olive follows.

JACK

Go do the show, Liv. I'll be mad if you don't…

Jack's mind again. Somewhere, Jack isn't focused on where, he is sitting. Mary is sitting up close to him. She's all he notices.

MARY

Jack. Look at me. I'm not saying this to hurt you. I'm not mad at you. I want you to understand that this show needs to go forward.

JACK 

I can do it.

MARY

Buddy, kiddo, you can't. You've made it clear that you can't pull it off. Not for 8 shows a week. I can't have you nearly dying every intermission. 

JACK

I can do it. I have the skills–

MARY

And you have the talent and you have the chutzpah, I know. But Jack, I built that number around how you can move, just because you can move that way doesn't mean you should.

JACK 

(As hurt as humanly possible)

You don't think I can do it.

MARY

You can't. You tried and you couldn't pull it off. You're not meant to do it. 

JACK

But I'm ruining your show.

MARY

Bert and I already found someone to replace you. Nothing is ruined. You just can't do it. There are all sorts of things in life that you just have to fail at. And you failed at it, Jack. Okay? Everyone fails all the time. It's a part of life.

JACK

Mary, let me try again. Please. Mary.

MARY

It's been 4 days, Jack. The- the show has to go on. Okay? You know that.

JACK 

You asked me to do this show and I have to do it for you, Mary.

Mary looks so overwhelmed by this pathetic loser.

MARY

You're gonna break my heart, Jack. You're going to make me cry. Don't do that. Just tell me it's okay. I know you know that it's for the best if I fire you.

JACK

I don't want you to fire me because I can do it. This show is important, Mary, I can't ruin it.

MARY

Jack, you're going to ruin it if you keep trying to play this role. You can't do it. You don't have the tenacity, you don't have the endurance, you have asthma. You need to be the one who decides that this is not the best option for you as a person.

JACK

I don't care if it is. I can do it and I'm going to do it, until I can't.

MARY

Jack. You are at the can't. Now, you can either let me fire you or force me to. And you force me to, it's going to hurt me a lot. I don't want to send you back to New York upset with you. I need you to tell me you'll be okay if I replace you.

Ouch. Mary touches his face and looks him in the eyes. Maybe there's love, or maybe it's just frustration. 

MARY

Say it, please.

JACK

Okay.

Mary hugs him.

MARY

You're fired.

She pulls away. She looks at him. She's very serious but she's not honest.

MARY

This show means less to me than your life, Jack. You understand that?

Jack nods.

MARY

Okay. So you're going to go back to New York, you're going to my place, you're going to recover, and then when we're in New York, you're going to come back and help me finish up the choreography, you understand that? There's always room for you, Jack. There's always going to be a place. It's just not opposite me.

Back to now.

Jack and Olive sit in the living room. It's a few hours later. Olive is reading a book, half resting on him. How embarrassing, enjoying being with a person. Cringe.

Olive adjusts and looks at him. He is a bit startled to see her.

OLIVE

What?

JACK

I forgot you were still here.

OLIVE 

You were mumbling in your sleep.

JACK

I was thinking about Mary.

OLIVE 

You know I saw her at the the ballet once. As a little girl. I thought she was so beautiful.

JACK

She was. Did I tell you that she fired me?

OLIVE

You have. And to that, I say that, when you and I did the Sunshine number the first time you kept adjusting my legs so I'd stop overextending even though it looked better. 

JACK

Mary didn't believe in limitations. She wanted more of everything. 

OLIVE

Viability, Jack. The perfect dancer only exists in science fiction. The viable dancer is in the room.

Olive adjusts again, this time sitting closer to him. He puts his arms around her and closes his eyes.

[themculibrary]

New Years Masterlist 3

part one, part two

All I Can Taste (ao3) - SailorChibi bucky/steve/tony/t'challa G, 2k

Summary: Tony thought he'd be spending New Year's Eve alone.

He was wrong.

Almost Midnight (ao3) - GlassesOfJustice may/pepper T, 300

Summary: It all started with two bottles of champagne.

A New Year’s Eve Tradition (ao3) - valdomarx steve/tony T, 1k

Summary: Steve and Tony spend New Year's Eve together.

Auld Acquaintance (ao3) - triedunture steve/bucky E, 5k

Summary: Due to magic or whatever, Steve is transformed back into his small self while pursuing the Winter Soldier on New Year's Eve. Bucky, seemingly acting on instinct, chooses to protect him despite his mistrust.

Also, Steve is a bit of a tiny powerbottom.

a year around the sun (ao3) - parkrstark steve/tony T, 62k

Summary: Following the life of the Rogers-Stark family the year after they become a family, one monthly milestone at a time.

Better Days (ao3) - neuv peter/wade E, 7k

Summary: It’s been about three years since everyone forgot who Peter Parker was. The only one who really cares about Peter is his landlord, but he’s minded his own business since Peter started selling photos and videos of Spiderman to the Daily Bugle for extra cash. Peter spends every night out as Spiderman, and over time finds a friend in Deadpool, who convinces him to take a night off for NYE.

Porn without plot. Omegaverse, with intersex omegas.

Greetings, My Name is Reindeer Games (ao3) - orphan_account darcy/loki E, 56k

Summary: On her first day working for Tony Stark, Darcy meets her soulmate and immediately and wishes she hadn't.

Happy New Year, Darling (ao3) - sensationalxbitch steve/peggy N/R, 2k

Summary: Steve and Peggy One-shot of their New Year's celebration at the pub along with many other soldiers.

Happy New year's Eve! (ao3) - nightsisterkaris phil/may, leo/jemma G, 2k

Summary: Melinda savored the feeling of dancing with him. Not just their routine waltz, but actually dancing with him. It was real and intimate, something she didn't want to end.

Phil softly dipped her down, and they weren't going through the steps, but living the memories. Melinda's back was pressed against his chest, and he twirled her again, her ankle-length red skirt flaring out, ruffling against his legs.

(I'll Be Cleaning Up Bottles With You) On New Year's Day (ao3) - msmaxximoff wanda/vision T, 2k

Summary: “And what about you? How do you envision your perfect new year’s eve?”

Wanda looks at him almost devilishly as she takes a sip of champagne. “It’d make you blush.”

“I don’t blush, Miss Maximoff.”

“Oh but you do,” she laughs. “You get this sort of faint golden glow on your cheeks. It’s really cute, actually. But, since you asked… in a perfect world, I’d be naked and making love to the person I love most.”

She’s fairly sure he short circuits.

Alone on New Year's Eve, Wanda reminisces on happier times and missed opportunities.

In Your Wildest Dreams (ao3) - BlueChocChipCookies N/R, 6k

Summary: Also known as: The 5 times Peter falls asleep on Tony, and the 1 time Tony falls asleep on Peter

i think you'd fall in love with anyone! (ao3) - existujeme peter/gwen, harry/mary N/R, 3k

Summary: Peter and Harry host New Year's Eve at their place, despite how poorly planned their celebration may be.

Mandatory Fun (ao3) - Neverever  steve/tony T, 6k

Summary: Steve loses a bet to Tony and has to go to Las Vegas for a fun-filled vacation. Or it was fun until people started thinking that they were married.

Matryoshka (ao3) - hegemony bruce/natasha E, 23k

Summary: She finds space inside herself for him.

Midnight Mumbles (ao3) - cornchip wanda/vision G, 1k

Summary: A little one shot of Wanda and Vision on New Year's Eve snuggling on the couch after ditching the party.

Missing Midnight (ao3) - FestiveFerret steve/tony T, 1k

Summary: Steve let the tide of the party shuffle him around the room, the thumping bass feeling like a second heartbeat in his chest. He was drunk enough that everything was great but not so drunk he couldn't keep his feet.

Something Stolen (ao3) - STARSdidathing loki/tony T, 582

Summary: The first time Loki saw Tony Stark as more than another annoying mortal was during a celebration of some kind. Loki didn't remember the particulars but he believed it was the celebration of the New Midgardian Year.

still, the desire (ao3) - miss_echidna wanda/vision G, 1k

Summary: She grins up at him, contented and emboldened by his touch, and, downing her drink, she drags him to the bar for another. "One for me," she says, handing him a glass, "and one for you." Vision protests. She, however, is having none of it. "It's New Years," she says. "Live a little."

stop the world (i wanna get off with you) (ao3) - volantium harley/peter G, 3k

Summary: "Come on," Harley whispers with a devilish smile, pulling him by the hand. “I know a better party somewhere else.”

Peter follows, easily, because how could he not?

Tony Stark Sucks at Subtlety (Steve's No Better At Picking Up Hints) (ao3) - tonystarkssnipples steve/tony N/R, 1k

Summary: Tony keeps dropping hints to Steve.

Steve just doesn't get it.

Until he does.

[starrysnowdrop]

A little Hali question if I may?

As I suspect Aymeric will be taking Hali to an Ishgardian Ball before long, if he hasn't already, I was wondering how much experience Hali has of dancing and formal dancing in particular? I'm not sure how much time the rational scholars of Sharlayan had for such ostentatious frivolity...

How does she feel about the idea of an Ishgardian Ball? Especially one where she will be the focus of so much attention (not all of which may be entirely positive)? Has she tried on different gowns? Was this a comfortable experience for her? Did she get any advice or suggestions? (perhaps from Emmanellain or, more practically, Lady Laniaitte de Haillenarte)

And finally (and very respectfully, as a fellow Lalafell player), how will Hali and Aymeric manage the height difference when dancing? Mimble would very willingly let Hali ride on his shoulders and conceal himself beneath the folds of her gown, but perhaps she has a more dignified plan in mind? After all there are many dances to choose from and Aymeric is an accommodating fellow.

Yes!!! Ishgardian Ball time!! @meepsthemiqo @traveler-of-light and I have been discussing headcanons for an Ishgardian Ball for a while now, and I’m so glad that I can talk about it a bit! I’m going to make a formal post with my full headcanons at some point, and I’m planning on writing a fic about it as well, but for now, I’ll delve into some of it here!

((Oh, and when I post the full headcanons, if anyone wants to join in on the Ishgardian Ball with your own OCs and ships, please let me know and/or tag me so I can see them!))

So, the Ishgardian Ball would happen sometime after the Final Days have been averted and before the Scions help Vrtra with the Void, so between 6.0 and 6.1. The ball will be in celebration of the Scions’ victory in saving the star, but on a personal level, Hali and Aymeric have confessed their love to each other and are officially in a relationship (FINALLY) so the ball will be the first time they are coming out to the public as a couple.

Hali is extremely excited, as she has always dreamed of going to a ball since she was a child reading fairytales, and she’s just as excited about trying on dresses to find the perfect one.

((I’ll be showing my ideas for what Hali will be wearing in the full headcanons post.))

But she is also really nervous, as she has no experience with ballroom dancing. She maybe a Dancer in battle, having learned the Thavnairian Kriegstanz style, but she’s no ballroom dancer. She had read about ballroom dancing in many books in Sharlayan, so she had a little bit of an idea of what it was all about, but there wasn’t that high of a demand for ballroom dancing classes when Hali was growing up.

The first person Hali goes to is one of her best friends: Emmanellain. He teaches Hali all of the basics, alongside Meeps’ children Fae’a and Marie so they all could learn together. This helped Hali greatly so that she wouldn’t be tripping over Aymeric’s poor feet.

But Hali soon discovers that there is going to be a major problem, as some of the dances, including the ever popular waltz, requires that you reach your partner’s shoulder, arms, hands etc. to perform the dance properly. So she is really discouraged, and she gets depressed because she can’t properly dance with the man she loves… that is until she has an idea.

She goes to her childhood friend, G’raha, and she asks him if he can teach her how to use the levitation spell that he used before to save everyone in the Tower of Zot. G’raha gladly agrees to help her, and Hali is able to learn the spell and hold it just long enough for one dance at a time. She doesn’t tell Aymeric beforehand about the levitation spell however, as she wants to surprise him.

At the night of the ball, Hali and Aymeric are introduced together, and so they are now known publicly as a couple. Hali is able to surprise Aymeric with using the levitation spell to lift herself up to the proper height so that they can dance together properly, and it’s a beautiful night for the both of them.

Thank you so much for the ask @mimble-sparklepudding!! I have been dying to talk more about the Ishgardian Ball ideas my friends and I have been developing, so I greatly appreciate this!! 🥰💖

((Btw, I’m curious if Mimble would like to go to the Ishgardian Ball too, and what his thoughts would be on all of it. Feel free to tell me about it if you’d like!))

[jj-the-writer]

Day 5 @kelbreyweek:

Minor omori spoilers.

Prom.

Mari basically drags Aubrey into the school prom dance.

Mari: "Alright Aubrey, time to have fun!"

Aubrey: "Easy for you to say, miss prom queen, I don't wanna be here..."

Mari: "Sure you do! C'mon go talk to your classmates, crack some jokes! Don't drink tho you're still young."

Aubrey: "Mari I don't talk to my classmates, I have 5 friends, you and hero will do your own thing and I also don't know where the others are..."

Mari: "Come on Aubrey look at you! You look beautiful, you can't let this dress go to waste, go talk to people!

Aubrey: "Fine fine I'll... Go around."

Hero: "Hey Aubrey! Hello Mari~"

Mari: "Hey there handsome~"

Hero: "Aubrey, you won't mind if I steal her from you, right?"

Aubrey: "Out of my face the both of you." She said as she let out a laugh and a genuine smile.

Hero and Mari went on stage to dance, they were made for this type of environment. For Aubrey though the music, the lights and the crowd was getting to her pretty quickly, so after she looked at Mari and Hero happily dance for quite a while, she decided to go get some air on the balcony of the building.

The balcony had a great view, the night sky with the city right below, with the sea in the distance. It had some bar tables with no chairs but it had two benches to the sides of the exit to the balcony. In one of those benches sat Kel, on his own.

Kel wore a button up shirt with an orange tie and a pair of black pants with a leather belt. He was sitting on the bench and he looked sad, looking on the floor with his elbows on his knees.

Aubrey approached and sat beside him, her dress taking more space than she'd wanted.

Aubrey: "Come here often?"

Kel: "Hello Aubrey..."

Aubrey: "Hey there doofus. What's got you so down, I thought you liked big crowds?"

Kel: "That hasn't changed, the atmosphere is really nice..."

Aubrey: "Then why are you bummed out? And don't tell me you aren't, I'm not blind, and even if I was, I know you too well."

Kel looked at Aubrey with a side eye and responded.

Kel: "I'd rather not talk about it Aubs..."

Aubrey: "Keeping problems to yourself solves nothing. Is it because you came here without a partner?"

Kel: *sigh* "No it's not that... It'd help I guess but that's not my problem."

Aubrey: "Then what is it? Come on we've known each other for years you can talk to me and be honest!" Aubrey put her hand on Kel's shoulder.

Kel takes a big breath and closes his eyes before looking at Aubrey, and looking away once more.

Kel: "Well, did you see Hero?"

Aubrey: "Yeah I did, he took Mari to dance as soon as we entered."

Kel: "Well he... I don't know how to explain it but I get the feeling that this life, of the popular kid, the one with many friends and fans... It belongs to him. And I feel like mom and dad, him, and the people around us expect me to grow up and be exactly like him, likeable like him, smart like him, naturally good at everything like him... For the longest time I thought that that's what I wanted as well, my brother is great after all who wouldn't want to be like him... But now, seeing him be the 'prom king', it's like the icing on the cake and I realized that I feel like I don't have an identity..."

Aubrey stays silent, she makes sure that before she speaks kel has finished taking. Then she gets her phone out of her pocket and she puts on Waltz no.2 by Shostakovich, something she knew he liked to listen to when he was alone. She set her phone on the bench. She stood up, took Kel's hands in hers and pulled him up. When standing kel was almost a head taller than Aubrey but despite the height difference he was the one being guided, as well as comforted.

Aubrey: "Let's dance." She said softly.

They started slow dancing, not actual waltz since none of them knew how to, but they swayed to the rhythm. Eventually Kel rested his head on Aubrey's shoulder and let out a few tears. Aubrey smiles, and she begins to talk softly as they continue dancing.

Aubrey: "Kel, you are so much more than 'popular'... You're genuine and energetic, you don't back down from a challenge even if you know your chance of success is low. You're persistent... You've gone through so much on your own, you've stood strong against struggle and no matter hurt you may be, you're still Kel. You're your own person Kel, you don't have to be anybody you can never be... Be yourself and fuck everyone who tells you otherwise. Besides, being 'you' is the best thing you can be, I know I wouldn't change a thing."

Kel continued dancing to Aubrey's guidance. His tears kept flowing with some soft sobs being heard. They kept dancing together, side by side until the song was over. After the music stopped they both stood there for a few seconds. Kel raised his head, his eyes a little red but the smile that Aubrey oh so loved was back where it belonged.

Kel: "Thank you, for being here, and for comforting me. I needed that."

Aubrey: "Anytime idiot. Just know you can talk to me when you feel like it, and when you don't." Aubrey smiled comfortingly at her friend.

Kel took a second before remembering that they were in prom. He looked at Aubrey up and down and blushed instantly. She wore a beautiful pastel pink dress with suspender straps and a subtle v-neck, she also wore short white heels. However what drew Kel's attention the most was a beautiful gold necklace which simply made her shine. Her hair was like usual, however they looked especially taken care of, even if she wasn't wearing her bow.

Aubrey: "Kel, are you okay...?"

Kel: "I'm fine! However I just realized that you look... Very pretty."

Aubrey: "Oh... Well thank you... Mari lent me one of her dresses for tonight, I think it's a little flashy but she wouldn't let me come here with pants so here we are haha..."

Aubrey tried to hide her embarrassment from Kel's comment, she fixed her hair, looked everywhere but directly at him... Kel was busy admiring her though so he didn't notice any if that.

Kel: "Well it'd be a shame fir you to look this good and not let anyone see! How about we go dance?"

Aubrey: "What are you saying all of a sudden... And I can't dance, I'd look out of pl-"

Kel held out his hand waiting for Aubrey to take it.

Kel: "Come on! It'll be fun I promise!"

Aubrey hesitated a lot, but she elected to follow him, her judgement was clouded from the compliments, but she also found herself wanting to dance with him... So she took his hand.

Kel broke a big smile and walked back into the party with Aubrey in tow. The both of them got on stage and they started dancing. At first Aubrey was self-conscious and awkward, however slowly she felt more comfortable, she let herself be guided by Kel's movements and soon enough she danced happily without a care in the world... That moment was theirs.

They ended up dancing so flashily that they stole the spotlight from Hero and Mari, the prom King and Queen respectively. The night went on and on with the two pairs dancing to their hearts content for everyone to see.

Basil and Sunny who have been awkwardly sitting in the corner this entire time took many photos of the two pairs as they danced, with plans to show them tomorrow.

[dwtsfun]

Dancing with the Stars Season 5 Week 8: Rewatch

Hey everyone. Sorry about that. I got real busy with my preparing my students for finals, the next school year and going to continuations and graduations. I was not expecting to get that busy. My bad lol. But I'm back. And we are continuing right where we left off. Season 5 has been such an incredible season that I'm sad that my time rewatching it is almost over.

First Round

Jennie and Derek- Jive (Judges' Score=24, My Score=8)- This was a solid solid 8 for me. I think this was the most confident Jennie has looked up to date. Now, technically speaking, she wasn't as sharp and as precise as she needed to be. And Jennie's posture still collapses throughout dances. That being said, the confidence is improving!

Cameron and Edyta- Viennese Waltz (Judges' Score=27, My Score=10)- This was a beautiful dance. And I can't help but think of how much he has improved over the weeks. His lines and his hold were gorgeous. And he was so smooth. Cameron is one of my favorite male contestants because of how he completely threw himself into the show and allowed himself to sometimes feel silly, but still grow and blossom into a fine dancer. I personally didn't see too much wrong with the dance. I understand CAI's critique about him being out of hold. But personally, this was a 10 for me.

Marie and Jonathan- Rumba (Judges' Score=24, My Score=8)- Y'all. I really really like this cast and these partnerships. That's what the show is missing nowadays. I know that it's luck of the draw with how casts interact with one another, but every single pairing was perfect. I completely agreed with the judges. Marie is amazing at really being able to embody the character of each dance and perform it to high levels. I just want Jonathan to add more content. Also, she could've pushed the hips more than she did.

Helio and Julianne- Paso Doble (Judges' Score=27, My Score=9)- This was a great dance as well. I think Helio handled the cape really well. His technique was so much better. Everything was so much more polished. His lines were great as well as his shaping. His performance and attitude for this dance was also much better as opposed to the tango and rumba. I will say that I just wanted them to smooth it out just a bit more. That would've made it a 10 for me.

Mel and Maks- Tango (Judges' Score=27, My Score=9)- Another great dance. I actually thought that the performance was amazing. My only issue was that Mel was kind of rigid. It mostly showed in her upper body and posture and her arms. Her feet were much improved though. Mel's styling was so good here. She looked so regal and beautiful. I wanna send out a special s/o to the hair and makeup team for this one as well.

Second Round

Jennie and Derek- Foxtrot (Judges' Score=26, My Score=9)- Jennie's posture was so much better this time around. She didn't let her carriage cave in like she does. As a result, her hold was beautiful. I could tell that she was nervous in the first few bars of the dance, but as she kept going, things she did settle into it and she did well. I get a little bit of what Bruno was saying about dazzling everyone. She's been great, but only flirted with truly amazing moments. But with where she ended this week, it's the perfect recipe to truly dazzle the following week.

Cameron and Edyta- Cha-cha (Judges' Score=24, My Score=8)- I have to agree with the judges here. Everything was placed well. It looked great. He never went wrong. He was having fun. The dance was not bad at all. However, it was stiff and lacked rhythm. And that is what CAI was kinda talking about in the last performance. It wasn't as apparent in a ballroom dance, but it def is in a Latin one. Still good and I wish he had gotten the opportunity to improve on that critique now that it was fully vocalized. But that's how the competition goes. No one deserved to go, but someone had to. Also, I really wanna say those pants had Cameron looking right. Really the whole fit highlighted just how fine he is.

Marie and Jonathan- Jive (Judges' Score=25, My Score=8)- Hmm. This was an uncharacteristic dance for Marie here. It felt a little heavy from time to time and almost like there were times that she walked from one move to the next. That was different for her. There wasn't enough jive there. And the jive that was there wasn't great. I understood the country part and all of that. But I don't like when celebs wear the cowboy boots. Their feet are never right. And for something like a jive, the feet HAVE to be perfect. That being said, she interpreted the character perfectly once again, it was fun watching the dance and when she did do things well, they were really good.

Helio and Julianne- Quickstep (Judges' Score=30, My Score=30)- A SHOWSTOPPER! This was the perfect dance for Helio. It's one of my favorite dances of all time. Perfection.

Mel and Maks- Mambo (Judges' Score=29, My Score=10)- Another one of my favorite dances and another perfect dance TO ME.

My Rankings and Scores Out of 60:

1 Helio and Julianne- 57 (27 for paso, 30 for quickstep) = Mel and Maks- 57 (27 for tango, 30 for mambo) 3 Cameron and Edyta- 52 (28 for Viennese waltz, 24 for cha-cha) 4 Jennie and Derek- 50 (24 for jive, 26 for foxtrot) 5 Marie and Jonathan- 47 (24 for rumba, 23 for jive)

As I said earlier, I don't want anyone to go at this point. I would've been just fine having these five for the rest of the competition and just crown a winner of the five in week 10. That's how good and entertaining these folks are. Unfortunately Cameron left the competition. That's all I got for y'all. The semis are up next and I'm just so excited. Man, this is such a great feeling. I'm really enjoying this whole season. Anyway, I'll be back probably tomorrow with the semis. Talk to you all soon!

[sciencestyled]

When Brainiacs Meet Brush Strokes: The Absurdly Awesome Fusion of Science, Art, and Edutainment!

Hey Anyguy, strap in! We're about to embark... oops, I mean launch into a universe where Newton's apple gets painted in neon, Einstein's hair is a TikTok sensation, and Shakespeare's quill is a laser pen. Yes, welcome to the wacky world where science, education, and art throw a party, and everyone's invited - even you, Bob, with your "I-only-read-instructions" face!

Picture this: a scientist in a lab coat, splattered with paint, holding a test tube that bubbles with the essence of pure, unadulterated fun. That's the spirit we're diving... ahem, plunging into. It's like mixing Mentos in Diet Coke but for your brain - explosive and messy, yet so satisfying!

First off, let's talk about those brainy boffins turning classrooms into a circus of learning. You remember that time when your physics teacher tried to explain quantum mechanics, and everyone just dozed off? Well, imagine if he had used interpretive dance instead, twirling around to demonstrate particles in superposition. That's right, Anyguy, we're talking about education getting a Hollywood makeover! Studies show that when learners are engaged through creative means, like artsy science experiments or mathemagical illusions, their understanding skyrockets – it's like feeding your brain a gourmet meal instead of bland oatmeal.

Moving on, let's waltz... I mean, moonwalk into the art studio, where creativity meets the rigor of scientific method. Artists these days aren't just splashing paint; they're coding algorithms to create fractal masterpieces, designing sculptures that double as solar panels, and making music that can literally cool down the planet - talk about a chill playlist, eh? These artsy Einsteins are showing us that the beauty of art isn't just in its appearance, but in its ability to solve real-world problems. It's like if Picasso and Tesla had a baby, and that baby was a climate activist with a paintbrush!

But wait, there's more! Ever heard of the term 'sciart'? No, it's not a typo, Bob, it's a thing. Sciart is where scientists become artists, and artists become scientists. We're seeing DNA sequences turned into graphic designs (talk about wearing your genes on your sleeve), and chemical reactions creating colors that even the rainbow would envy. This fusion is like a culinary experiment where chocolate meets chili – unexpectedly awesome!

Now, let's zoom out and look at society. We're in a world that's like a teenager's bedroom – a bit of a mess. But here's where our superhero trio steps in. By combining science, education, and art, we're not just learning about the world; we're learning how

to change it. It's like having a Swiss Army knife for society's problems. Need to inspire environmental action? Bam! Here's a virtual reality game that shows you the effects of climate change. Want to tackle mental health? Pow! Have some therapeutic art sessions backed by neuroscience. It's like having a Mary Poppins' bag of solutions – you never know what you'll pull out, but it's always what you need.

Speaking of needs, let's not forget about our dear friend, the internet. In this digital playground, science, education, and art are like the popular kids at school. They're everywhere – from YouTube videos explaining the science of cooking (hello, molecular gastronomy!) to Instagram accounts showcasing the sexiest bacteria you've ever seen (who knew microbes could be so photogenic?). It's a smorgasbord of information, served with a side of memes and cat videos, because why not?

And in this era of info-overload, where fake news spreads faster than a wildfire in a drought, our trio becomes the superhero team we've been waiting for. They teach us to question, to ponder, and to not just accept the 'facts' as they are served. It's like having your own personal detective kit, but instead of solving crimes, you're unraveling the mysteries of the universe – or just figuring out why your toaster keeps burning your bread.

Now, let's circle back (not literally, Bob, put down that compass) to our imaginary friend, Anyguy. Anyguy represents all of us – curious, a bit confused, but always up for an adventure. Through the lens of science, art, and education, Anyguy learns to see the world not just as it is, but as it could be. It's like putting on a pair of magic glasses that reveal hidden patterns, connections, and possibilities.

In conclusion (because even this whirlwind needs to land sometime), the fusion of science, education, and art isn't just beneficial; it's essential. It's like peanut butter and jelly – good on their own, but together, they create something magical. It's a recipe for a society that's more informed, more creative, and more equipped to tackle the challenges ahead. So, let's mix, blend, and fuse these elements together, and watch as the world transforms into a place where learning is fun, art is enlightening, and science is, well, downright cool.

And remember, Anyguy, in the words of a famous space ranger, "To infinity and beyond!" Or, in our case, to the infinite possibilities of what we can achieve when we let our brains and our brushes work together. Now, let's go paint that test tube neon!

[gingertomcat]

Could you tell me about Cecil Sharpe please?

Thank you very much for asking!

This is only really tangentially related to the original post as the original post talks about romance in old dance styles and I'm not.

Also I don't claim to be an expert on this, just an enthusiast so a. Don't take this as gospel if you find better info and b. If anyone has more info, give me a shout!

Anyway...

The original post asserts that dances lack romance and aren't as intimate as waltzes or other two person dances. While it goes on to argue the opposite there's also a secret third thing going on. In the 1900's Cecil Sharp (no e on the end I fucked up his name) began working on documenting various English folk traditions including Morris dancing. For context (I just checked the wiki because I know what he did not who he was) Sharp was a member of the Fabian society but described himself as a "conservative socialist" due to his dislike of the results of the industrial revolution and probably his slight opposition to the suffragist/suffragette movements. He documented various Morris dances which began a folk revival, in order to do this he had to go to towns which had kept these traditions alive and ask about them, document the music and the specific movements and then move on to the next one. At a similar time, having worked with Sharp previously on documenting folk traditions, Mary Neal, a socialist activist, had set up a women's Morris troupe, and criticised Sharp about his almost complete control over the revival of the tradition and his stubbornness when it came to the actual preservation of the dances. She thought that the dances required more energy and flamboyance than the way Sharp had documented them.

You see where I'm going here?

Cecil Sharp, a middle class, well educated man, decided to try and revive folk culture in England out of nostalgia for "the good old days of sleepy old England" as it were and in doing so, went to working class communities, documented their dances (which would probably have been passed down orally before) and set them in stone. Granted, yes, without him Morris dancing might not be alive today, but, Mary Neal would argue that the spirit of the dances has been lost and I would be inclined to agree.

The pace at which a lot of Morris music is set is too slow for starters, it often seems a bit dreary when performed by a traditional Morris troupe. Also a lot of the routines involve sticks! There's a dance that I can't remember the name of that involves short sticks and for one person to hit either side of a stick in someone's hand. Sharp would have you perform it at a walking pace but these dances represent various things and a lot of them would be angry or passionate or energetic but because of the work of one guy and his overbearing control over the folk revival it's lost all the fire and energy.

So to summarise, medieval dances or traditional dances are romantic, they are passionate, you do have partners in Morris dancing sometimes, most importantly though, they're about community and about bringing the people around you closer and they're about really bloody going for it. Chances are they've just been appropriated by people who wanted to play the hero.

Link to original post

[bestsnow-white]

@saviorswxn

"Thats my god girl," Snow smiled as her daughter was starting to listen to her wish made her proud and she smiled. Snow knew that her daughter never seen the true her but that was because she was cursed now that the curse was broken Emm will be seeing more of Snow-White personality, but she also knows that Mary Margert was a good friend to Emma. Snow knew her daughter was crying and trying to cover it up the former bandit decided to let her little girl have this win and she acted as she didn't see her baby's tears, she didn't want to embarrass Emma any more than she already has. "Oh, that is a song I use to hum when I was pregnant with you my little cygnet, you know you wouldnt stop kicking me until I hummed you that song. "I know you do baby, but I still have muscle mass and well that makes it easy to lift you although carrying you for a long time might be pushing it. I can carry you for short walks although if you ever needed to be carried nothing will ever stop me." Snow replied to her daughter. "Nope. mommy is going to carry you for a little bit because I never got to do this when you were grown up like i said while we are trapped here, you're getting the same treatment Neal gets so for the time being your just my baby girl not the savior not the sheriff just mommy's little girl." Snow was having a hard time letting go now that she had shown Emma how she could be she just wanted her baby daughter and she loved Emma, but she still wanted Emma to see it and not have a shadow of a doubt that her parents love her with all their hearts no matter what. "Oh, honey that's so sweet you're such a sweet girl." Snow kissed her daughter in the cheek. "Well honey a spanking was common and your father would have spanked you and given you a time out but your right he probably would have hold back when it came to spanking you. you might have received some form of lecture and then you would be pouty, and your daddy would have let you off the hook." Snow thought about it/ "Well I could always make you clean the stables or the entire caste without magic and without our animal friends to help you." Snow replied to her daughter. "Well, am glad that understood baby am glad you know that your parents love you and care for you. at her daughter's next word Snow got excited. "Oh, baby I will definitely teach you everything I know and more and am sure daddy wants to teach you too it would be amazing. As for the waltz that would be fun and well the choice is yours but if you ever want to try and learn how to dance your father and I are willing to teach you." thank you baby and you're a wonderful daughter am lucky to have gotten such a great daughter. Am so very proud of you. Snow laughed at her daughter words "Your right Nealy seems to sleep through everything. I guess I should have named him after sleepy, oh baby," Snow cuddled with her daughter and rocked her in her arms near the fire as he wanted to stay close to her, she never even put her on the ground.

@saviorswxn

Snow looked at her daughter "Really? that makes me so happy but am sure that's your pride talking you're a total daddy's girl i would hear you say daddy more than mommy or mama." Snow smiled seeing at her daughter and holding her. "I've been baby, you baby, honey and sweetie since we got stuck here, but I wanted to call you all of that since the curse broke when we were in the enchanted forest, and I shot an arrow to the ogre I said the wrong think I was going to tell him to keep his paws off my baby." Snow explained to her daughter. "Oh yes you would have after we were in a screaming match and after I had half the staff and myself looking for you to get you to wear your ball gown, You know Emma you wouldnt be the person you are now if your father and I raised you we wanted to give you the world and the stars your world was supposed to be filled with love and magic not a cruel world where happy endings are impossible to find." Snow giggled at her daughter's next remark "Yes baby your great with daddy's sword but you still didn't have the proper training to wield it besides I think you'd look cute with a bow and arrow. Now sweetie no need to be modest we both know you would have surpassed me in archery and that something am very proud of baby." Snow looked at her daughter "Emmy baby it's okay to be sad you dont need to apologize and its okay to be scared I know its not the same honey but your still my baby and that makes you the child so that means it's not your job to fix this, okay honey am the mother here am the parent and it's my job to make sure everything goes well and keep the two of you safe."

Snow smiled seeing her baby asleep she gentle and easily carried Emma to the bed and tucked her , She just hoped her babies wouldnt be to upset with her She left to go hunt something for them to eat she wasn't going to let her babies starve to death she would figure something out finding a fox Snow got to work first she apologized for what she as about to do and thanked the fox after explaining her situation and about her children. She knew she didn't have to but to her it felt better to thank the animal she was about to consume and prepare for her daughter, she headed back to the shack fox in hand she smiled seeing her kids together. "Hey Emma, I got us dinner," Snow announced as she got to work on cleaning and gutting the fox. For both her and Emma." Snow looked at Emma and smile d how was your nap sweetie?" Snow asked happily seeing that both her kids were alive and well.

[the-travelling-witch]

⇢ ˗ˏˋ But I Still Love You ﾟ☾. ࿐

summary: your relationship was all you could have wished for but what if it turned out it was just a little more?

pairing: scaramouche x gn!reader

prompts: 8. "you're a monster", 19. "i can't do this anymore", 23. "what's wrong with me?"

warnings: [heavy angst] murder, somewhat graphic depiction of violence, emotional abuse+ manipulation, toxic relationship, gaslighting, mentions of suicide, yandere (?) themes, you know i normally love scara but he’s a totally messed up asshole in this, i do not condone this type of behaviour; do not engage with this fic if any of these could potentially jeopardise your health!!

a/n: i can happily announce that this is my first collab fic ever and i’m very excited!! i just had to join after reading the prompts in @versadies’s “farewell, love” collab, my brain was running wild with ideas and settled on the darkest one, don’t ask what possessed me that day; thank you to @mari-on-dragonspine and @yaesnovels for reading this ahead of time and boosting my confidence about it, couldn’t have done it without you; now… soft scara stans, look away, this is not your man

happy halloween🍁

genshin impact masterlist

It was a dream come true.

Every time you’d meet him, the butterflies in your stomach would create a whirlwind of emotion and your heart would soar higher than any bird ever could. That fact that he’d chosen you out of everyone still didn't feel real to you.

Always bright-smiling and elated to see you, he had your heart wrapped around his finger but you didn't mind, you'd gladly given it to him. Taking you out for dinner, escorting you home from work, planning weekend trips with your interests in mind…

He was perfect.

But he was also the Balladeer, who could make anyone dance to his tune. Your friends were wary of his flawless performance from the start. Something that seemed too good to be true was usually just that; a short-lived dream at best, an intricately woven tapestry of lies and illusions at worst. But you ignored all their warnings as your rose-coloured glasses blended every possible red flag with the bouquet of dendrobiums he had gifted you on your date.

As time passed, you saw your friends less and less and eventually they stopped reaching out to you; there were no more letters in your mailbox, you didn't run into them on your trips to the market and their excited knocks on the door faded away into memories. Besides your colleagues at work, you spent most of your time with Scaramouche, whose role in your life was growing more significantly with each passing day.

From helping you with everyday chores to helping you secure better business deals with his position as the Sixth Fatui Harbinger to even going so far as lending you money or straight-up buying whatever you needed or wanted, you were starting to wonder how you managed to navigate life before he waltzed into yours.

Then, Scaramouche asked you if you wanted to move in with him. Considering how evolved he already was and how often you saw each other, you thought living together would make everything easier. Besides, waking up next to him and coming home to him every evening did sound rather enticing, so you agreed.

Relocating all your belongings from where you had grown up to the far side of Inazuma was quite the challenge but of course, Scaramouche came to your rescue, lending a hand in sorting through your stuff and leaving behind what you didn't need anymore.

It was hard to find a new job. Every interview you attended ended up in you being turned down without a specific reason given, even though you more than met the required qualifications. After continuously being rejected you couldn't take it anymore as the venomous fangs of failure sank their teeth into you. Luckily, Scaramouche was there to catch you when you broke down.

“Shh, it's okay, little dove. Why don't you rest for a while and let me take care of you? Can't you see how all this stress is weighing you down? Let me handle everything while you recover, I promise I'll cover whatever you need, so don’t worry. Take all the time you need and then you can start looking again.” As he pressed his cold lips against your temple, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran down your spine. Somewhere in the back of your mind, the notion of Death marking its next victim had taken root while he securely held you in his arms, letting your falling tears stain the shirt clutched in between your hands. “You’re doing so well for me, I'm very proud of you, my love.”

Grasping the fact that you were unemployed and solely relying on your boyfriend’s, admittedly generous, income took a while. Up until now, you’d always stood on your own two feet, a philosophy your parents had instilled into you from a young age and something you had prided yourself on. 

At first, it was hard facing yourself in the mirror, too ashamed of yourself and too afraid your mind would zero in on your every flaw to tear your confidence down even further. But whenever your eyes averted from your figure, two hands would wrap around your middle from behind, Scaramouche’s face appearing next to yours to whisper sweet words into your ear, saving you from shattering completely.

And frankly, your income couldn’t compare to his anyway, so you working would only be worth a drop in the bucket, if at all. 

To keep yourself busy with all your new free time gained, you started working around the house, doing chores just to pass the time and distract you from your feelings of uselessness.

One of your greatest joys was going grocery shopping at the local market. With no new coworkers to speak of, it had been increasingly difficult finding a connection to the people. With the title of being a Harbinger’s partner, they were wary and kept their distance, a precautionary measure you couldn’t fault them for.

As you stopped by more often, however, their behaviour changed. The elderly lady selling vegetables started sharing recipes with you, the young pair from the flower shop were waving you over to catch up and the guy from the herb stand handed you free samples to try around with.

Finally, for the first time since moving here, you felt like you could become part of the community, so naturally you told Scara about it. What you didn’t notice was how his smile strained the more excited you grew. 

"How long has this been going on for?” Even he couldn’t hide the venom lacing  his words. “Remember, you have to tell me. Not telling me is just as bad as lying.”

“Wait, Scara, you aren’t upset with me, right? I just wanted to help out, you know.“

“Am I upset? Why? Should I be?“ The hairs in the back of your neck rose and your skin tingled as if someone had shot a bolt of electricity through you. It was like the ground around you broke away at his tone and you knew you had to tread carefully if you wanted to make it out of this safely.

“No, don’t be.“ You gingerly extend your arm as if not to scare a cautious animal and cupped his cheek. “I love you like I’ve never loved anyone else, you know that right?“

Leaning into your touch and trapping your hand under his own, his purple eyes zeroed in on you. “So you knew after all?“

You froze. “What?“ It was barely more than an exhale as your gut seemed to plummet. His grip on you tightened as you started squirming.

“Oh come on, you’re smarter than this. You knew I‘d get jealous and you told me anyway. Or maybe that is why you told me in the first place?“ Apparently your appalled face gave away how impossible the thought was to you because he merely sighed deeply before dropping your arm and turning to leave. “Whatever. It’s not like I care anyway.“

The silence he left behind that day left you stunned, weighing down on your chest and pressing the air out of your lungs only to be shattered by the sound of a plate smashing against the wall a few rooms over. Yet, despite flinching and despite the acidic sting in your eyes, the tears wouldn't fall.

In the wake of that incident, you desperately scrambled to make it up to him. There was no need to go to the market for groceries anymore, instead you found a basket with produce in the kitchen with no trace of the Fatui Agent who brought it. So, you devoted your time to cooking homemade meals and cleaning the house. Only to have your heart broken when Scaramouche picked at his plate with disinterest or had someone clear the decorations you had put up in careful consideration.

But he still loved you, he always reminded you. From showering you in expensive fabrics and jewellery to treating you to fancy dinners in high-class restaurants to sweet words of praise dripping from his lips like honey, making it hard for you to taste anything but their saccharine flavour. Of course he still loved you when he responded to your gratitude with “I would do anything to make you happy. I just want you to do the same for me.”

Maybe you were the one who wasn’t showing their affection enough. Otherwise, why would you feel this sharp stab of guilt piercing your heart whenever you refused him? How could you stay unmoved when his glassy violet eyes drooped as he mumbled “I guess you just don’t love me enough after all.”

And when you brought up an issue you wanted to discuss with him, his cold “I could just leave, you know” didn’t mean he actually would, he still loved you after all. Surely, he just had a bad day at work and needed some space. Your theory was cemented when Scaramouche sat you down one evening, expression unreadable as he took hold of your hands.

“Listen, little dove, something at work happened that I need you to know about. I’m telling you this for your own safety, okay?” You silently nodded at his genuinely concerned voice. Normally, he never told you anything about his work and completely shut you out if you asked about it, so you figured it must be pretty serious. “You understand that my job is dangerous, right? That shouldn't be news to you. And while I’m always very cautious to keep any kind of information about my personal life away from the Fatui, it seems that recently some of that information trickled down to our enemies through a mole.”

You didn't need to voice it, the anxiety sparked within you at his words apparent in your expression and Scaramouche gave your hands a reassuring squeeze as he continued with a softened tone.

“I'm sure you already figured out what kind of information has been leaked if I need to tell you. Yes, the enemy knows the location of this estate. It's unclear, however, if they know about you.” At that you couldn't help but clench your fingers into fists; enemies of the Fatui weren't to be taken lightly. “Don’t worry, I already made sure that traitor got what he deserved. Despite all of that, he wouldn't talk about the reason for giving up this particular intel, the working theory being that someone is after my life. Personally, I don't think you are their target; all the same…”

Pulling out a silver dagger, he handed the razor sharp weapon to you. Its handle felt like an icicle against the warmth of your palm and the weight of it seemed to sink into your gut rather than your arm. Certainly he wasn't asking you to…

“I want you to have this. If the situation calls for it, you need to be prepared to use it.”

“Scara, what is it that you want from me? I’m not like you, I can't just…” Lost for words, your currently empty hand was waving through the air trying to grasp the meaning of all of this. 

Your lover reached forward and clasped his hands tightly around your shoulders, his stern gaze glued to your shaky one. “Your life or my life might depend on this, (Y/N), do you understand? If you really cared about me, you'd do what I'm asking.”

For the first time in a long time, you cried. Bitter tears seeping out of the corners of your eyes before starting to fall faster and faster and broken hiccups echoed around the room. The knife clattered noisily onto the floorboards as Scaramouche pulled you into his arms as you clutched onto his robes, gasping for air. 

“Shh, shh, I understand, little dove. It's scary,” he soothed. “But you have to see my side of things too. If something happened to you, what would I do? You’re the most precious thing in the whole world to me, I can't lose you, ever. I promise you, we’ll be together forever, so don’t cry.”

You didn’t sleep well that night. Or any of the following for that matter. It was even worse when Scaramouche had to stay out on Fatui business, leaving you all alone in the estate. Even the agents you knew where stationed somewhere in the vicinity didn’t help quell your fears.

Had this really become your life? Waking up in cold sweat, thinking you heard a noise? Flinching at the curtains blowing in the night’s breeze? The dagger didn’t pacify your worries either. Instead, the wretched blade seemed to follow you into your dreams, cutting through the pleasantries to reveal subconscious terrors slumbering under your quiet surface.

It was one of those nights where you were startled awake by your own hammering heart and the sweat rolling off your temple, the other half the bed cold and empty. Just as you slid your legs from under the blanket in hopes that a glass of water would help you calm down, you heard a thud. 

You wanted to play it off as your mind playing tricks on you, like every other night; that it was just the blood thumping through your ears that made you hear things. But then it was there again. 

There was someone else in the house with you.

It couldn’t be the Fatui nor Scaramouche. They were better trained than this, stealthier than to make a sound twice. In the moonlit room, you groped for the cool metal under your pillow, shaky fingers wrapping around the handle. There was no way you could win against an enemy who’d go after a Harbinger in one-to-one combat, much less if you were outnumbered, so you hid in the shadows of your room.

The creaking of the floorboard grew closer and you tried to stifle your ragged breathing. Even when you wrapped both hands around the hilt, they were still trembling as you recalled what Scaramouche had drummed into your head… “Go for the throat”

You didn't dare inhale or exhale as the door slowly slid open and a shadowy figure stepped into the room. The person was wearing a straw kasa shielding most of their head from your view but, from what you could make out, it was a young man. 

There was no time to think. In the few seconds he took to advance to the middle of the room, you lunged forward, driven mad by fear alone. Just before the sharp blade made contact with his skin, the man whirled around, startled by the noise. And then, merely a fraction later, the dagger was lodged to the hilt in his throat. 

When he tried to speak, nothing but a gruesome gurgling sound left his mouth. From the proximity, you could finally see under the hat, just to meet familiar eyes. You staggered back, mortified. It was as if someone had punched out all the air from your lungs as realisation struck you.

How didn't you recognise him? You had seen him so often. If you had just taken a second longer to properly look at him, he wouldn't…

The person burbling unintelligible noises sounding too similar to the letters of your name was certainly not an enemy of the Fatui. No, he was a simple herb farmer, selling his products on the local market. And you…

…just killed an innocent man.

The dull thud of the knife hitting the floor barely registered as your knees gave out and you sacked downwards. Two cold hands wrapped under your arms and stopped you from joining the blood-slicked blade. You didn’t put up any resistance as you were pulled against an all too familiar chest, your body limp like a puppet with its strings cut as he lowered both of you to the ground slowly.

“Look at you. You’re a monster,” he cooed and you could feel his grin curl against the top of your  head as he placed a frosty kiss there. “You just murdered an unarmed farmer, just like that. But it’s okay. I still love you.”

“No, I– I didn’t… I cant–” Guilt crushed your chest and wrangled your airways. You might as well have been the one with the slit vocal chords, judging by the lack of sound coming from you.

“Mhh, but you did, little dove.” Scaramouche’s soft hands were caressing the side of your face as he softly spoke to you. It took a few caresses for you to realise that his fingers were sticky and you forced yourself to focus on the scene in front of you. There was a pool of dark liquid slowly expanding from where the man's neck would be, the metallic smell filling the room, making you nauseous. You saw the knife lying next to the slumped over body. As in trance, you reached for it, anything to make the pain go away…

But Scaramouche was faster in pinning your arms back to your side “None of that, don’t be dumb. It wouldn't remedy what you already did.” When you sagged back against him and he was sure you wouldn't try taking the knife again, he let go of your arm. “Did you know? He was here to ‘save you’, isn't that funny?”

“...what?”

“I know, right? It's ridiculous,” he chuckled. “Apparently, the townsfolk were concerned about you when you stopped showing up at the market, so they waited for an opportunity where I wouldn't be home, those fools. But you made nice work of this idiot without my help. You did so well for me, love.”

“You… you knew about this?” You couldn't prevent the way your voice cracked from lack of energy. “But… the enemies of the Fatui… and the information that was… you said that… I thought..”

“Hm? Oh, that? I told you, didn’t I? We took care of them a couple of days ago. I definitely told you, little dove; you were so relieved when you heard the news. You didn't forget, did you?”

Did he tell you? You couldn’t remember; surely you would, if he had told you something so important. The Fatui, however, were notorious for dealing with their problems quickly, so it was possible this had been resolved so swiftly. No, you'd definitely remember…

You were ripped out of your thoughts when something warm touched your bare foot. Violently jerking your leg towards yourself as vermillion smeared across the wooden floor. Suddenly, it wasn’t just your lungs caving into themselves but also your stomach being compressed into a fraction of its size. Flopping onto your side you pulled yourself up onto shaky arms and knees as acid burned your throat and your body tried to rid itself of nonexistent content. 

Throughout all of it, Scaramouche lovingly ran his hand up and down the length of your spine, cooing at you to soothe your nerves, all the while praising you for doing so well. When you stopped throwing up for the moment, he gently lifted you up and brought you to the bathroom and helped you wash up. Frankly, he did most of the work, whereas you merely stood there, watching your reflection in the mirror. 

This was the baseline behaviour for the next few weeks as you processed what you had done. Naturally, by the time you exited the bathroom that night, there was no body or crimson trace left of what had transpired there. Nobody would know, except you, Scaramouche and the Fatui agents under his command. Although, the guilt and shame within you remained, most possibly until the day you died. He was right, you were a monster.

But underneath all the easily-accepted self-loathing, another sensation reared its ugly head. Denial spilled into the numbness and slowly warped into scepticism. And it culminated the morning you looked at yourself in the mirror. What had your life become? When did it all go wrong? 

Quietly, meant for nobody but the reflection on the polished surface but with the force to shake you awake, you mumbled a long overdue question: “What's wrong with me?”

However as you turned the situation over and over in your mind, there was only one answer. It was him, it all started with him. Your life was good before him. You weren't the problem here; you weren't the monster in this house. And there was only one solution to your problems.

“I can't do this anymore.”

“What?!” It was pure fury, the way he sliced the air with that single word. “You’re kidding, right? Well, it's not funny, so cut the crap, (Y/n).”

“I’m not. We’re done, Scaramouche.” It took every ounce of willpower for your voice to remain composed and unwavering. But you had made your decision and you wouldn't let him charm you into your downfall again. “I'm leaving. Don't follow me.”

“Have you completely lost your mind? You killed a person, remember? You should be grateful I’m willing to stick by your side; who else would love a freak like you? And that’s given the chance you’re even allowed to walk free.” The sneer was contorting his face into an ugly grimace and in the back of your head you wondered if those were the true colours you were just too blind to see all of this time. “You do realise, my position is the only thing keeping you from prison and poverty and homelessness. You need me. You owe me.”

“I don’t owe you anything for ruining my life,“ you spat, thoroughly done with him manipulating the narrative. It felt good to finally stand your ground and argue with your own agency in mind, no matter how terrifying it might be. Turning on your heel you marched straight to the front door, belongings in hand. Before you could make it there, however, a hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, spinning you around forcibly.

“You don't want to do this, little dove, trust me. You don’t know what I'll do if you dare leave me,” he gritted out. “I told you, we will be together forever.”

Merely raising an eyebrow as you held his stare you noted, “What you do no longer concerns me.” And so, you took the first steps to your regained freedom.

It had taken months of gentle caring to nurture the wilted shell in your chest back into a living sapling, hopefully strong enough to fill the empty void where your heart had been carved out.

It had taken years of genuine reassurance for your friends, who readily took you in again, to finally be fully let back into your life as you slowly broke down the high walls you had erected to keep the tiny sprout safe. 

Finally, the lively breeze that had carried you from adventure to adventure before had returned to ruffle your rusty wings once more and you were ready to rejoin the path you used to walk on.

So when you were waiting for your friend to pick you up and you excitedly answered the knock on your door, the dreaded amethyst staring back at you made you stagger back, the bouquet of crimson dendrobiums tearing open scars you thought had healed.

“Hello, little dove. You seem surprised to see me.” Every nerve in your body was screaming at you to run, far far away, put as much distance between you and the person you had once called your lover. But the weight in your stomach was dragging you down and you could only stare with wide eyes as you were once again pulled under and into your own demise.

“I came back for you. I promised I would.”

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RIP Christopher Plummer

When someone is 91, you can’t really say its unexpected, but it still saddens me. It’s funny, I literally just watched Knives Out on Amazon Prime and was thinking how amazing it was that he was still actively acting. (good movie btw, highly recommend with the small caveat that its not the comedy the trailers make it look like) I also remember him fondly from Star Trek – the classic films loved…