#Everybody seems really down lately- for valid reasons of course

[alchemicaladarna]

Little tangent about my journey with the QSMP fandom <3

First, I'm going to preface this post by saying, I wouldn't have been interested in the server, been introduced to so many communities, languages, and cultures, if not for the eggs and the admins. So, I initially gained interest when I saw a lot of people posting about Tallulah and.... Misclick duo (lmao) so I decided to check out what everybody was talking about mid-April 2023.

I watched Philza's April 29 VOD- "last" day of the eggs. Absolutely loved Chayanne and Phil planting potatoes because of Phil telling stories about Techno. Cried like a baby after. So now I'm invested.

I downloaded Twitch the next day, in time for the Brazilians' arrival. My main pov continued to be Philza, so I was a Crow for quite a while, mostly into the summer. I started watching Cellbit when the mystery really started to ramp up by the end of May.

Then Bobby died and everyone's reactions made me sob for like, a week.

Summer was probably the most time I've had fun watching QSMP. I don't know why, but it was such a good era, despite the discourse about elections lmao. I began to gravitate more towards watching Foolish's pov and when Jaiden began streaming every day, I had her as my main pov as well. Shoutout to the doozers and Jaiden mains <33

Then, Tina and Bagi arrived and I began religiously watching them as well for, uh. Reasons 🏳️‍🌈 XD. Got invested in Bagi's lore and then everybody became really busy during October so Bad and Bagi were pretty much the only ones consistently on the server XD.

Then, and only then, did I hear little whispers about q!Badboyhalo's soul vultures and possible death? And I got really really interested then. And that's where the Ghostie era started lmao. Up to now, Bad is the only person I'd watch consistently and keep up to date on his lore because well, after the soul vultures arc and especially Sweet Despair, you can't really go back to anything else after that you know?

Of course, without the QSMP, I don't think I would've discovered/re-discovered so many wonderful streamers like Fit, Tubbo, Étoiles, Mouse, or Baghera to name a few.

The past few weeks have probably been the shittiest and most anxiety-ridden weeks for me ever. But, I don't want all the negativity and anxiety to overshadow what was, for me, THE most special and unique fandom experience I've ever had. The QSMP is such a special project, there's no doubt about that. I want that to continue.

So, if this post can offer any sort of positivity and relieve some of the dread we've all been feeling, to any person from any community, that would mean so much to me already.

Send love to and the utmost kindness and care to any and all ex admins, and continue to show your support for the current admins too please. It will take a long time for this to be resolved, and it's terrifying I know, but all we can do is support each other and wait.

Remember to always take care of yourselves and no matter what happens, it always rains before you can see a rainbow right? So, in other words, things will become worse before they can get better. Idk what will happen with the QSMP, but know that life becomes better eventually. No matter the outcome, you'll be ok. We'll all be ok. <333

Edit: oh my god I just realized qsmp 1st anniversary isn't tomorrow. Today is the 20th djrjtbrbebd

There's still 2 days but um everything else I said is still true XDDDD

[d-criss-news]

The Glee star and Emmy winner for The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, Darren Criss, 34, will be releasing his first album of Christmas songs, titled A Very Darren Crissmas (October 8). It includes duets with Adam Lambert, Evan Rachel Wood and an original song, “Drunk on Christmas,” featuring Lainey Wilson.

What was your goal with this Christmas album?

To reintroduce familiar songs in a new way. But I also wanted to take lesser-known songs and make those feel more familiar. And, most importantly, I wanted to take songs that people don’t associate with Christmas but I do—like Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”—and try to make them feel like Christmas songs.

What inspired you to write “Drunk on Christmas”?

It’s about the end of Christmas when everything’s been done. There’s wrapping on the floor, you’ve cleaned things, the in-laws have left and there’s nothing else to do. It’s two people having a sit-on-the couch moment, sipping a glass of cocoa with some SoCo [Southern Comfort] in it.

What is it about Christmas music? Why did you want to do the Christmas album?

Christmas or the holiday season is something that, whether we like it or not, we experience every year, and that comes with a litany of wonderful songs and music that again, whether you have been proactive about listening to it or not, it’s pretty hard to avoid. It’s permeated our cultural consciousness for our entire lives. So if you happen to be someone like me who consumes music at a hyperactive level, I’ve always adored Christmas music.

People say this because of the way that it makes them feel and the things that it reminds them of. There are so many layers to why people enjoy Christmas music. It’s nostalgic, it is very romantic, at least in the true dictionary meaning of the word romantic. And to me, I’ve always loved it for a much more anthropological reason, which is for one month or several weeks out of the year we suddenly subscribe to a certain sentiment that the other 11 we don’t really dial into. We want it all, then we want it to just go away.

What makes Christmas songs different?

As a musician I’ve always loved that Christmas music can employ certain musical elements that otherwise aren’t very popular. To me, it’s incredible that without a doubt the estates of many artists are guaranteed placement on the radio even though many of them have been deceased for many years. The pop charts are dominated by whatever contemporary, awesome artists there are nowadays, but in December you can guarantee that Burl Ives and Dean Martin will be on the radio with the best of them. I find that so charming. It’s because people really, really love this music.

And those songs don’t sound like the sounds that we’re hearing on the radio, sonically, harmonically, rhythmically. They employ a lot of “classic” sounds that evoke the feeling of Christmas. I’m a self-proclaimed genrephile—this is a term I use for myself throughout all the stuff that I do. I can’t help but be so enchanted by this idea that artists have license, and by license I mean an excuse to do things that you ordinarily wouldn’t be encouraged to do, or that audiences wouldn’t necessarily be as quick to absorb.

So, when you’re talking about classic Christmas writing, for lack of a better word, you use clichéd Christmas terminology, you use certain chords, and harmonies, and instrumentations that you just wouldn’t do throughout the year. It leans on the slightly more sophisticated, slightly more musical, and that is really exciting for someone like me.

How much does the fact that your last name is Criss play into this?

If you play music and your last name is Criss, every year someone says, “You know what you should do?” as if they’re the first person who’s ever thought of this idea. So I’ve always wanted to do this; it was just a matter of time. And I also didn’t want it to be phoned in, I didn’t want it to seem like, “Oh, here’s some songs that you know already.”

I wrote this in my liner notes that my favorite thing to do with art, but particularly music, is curate, interpolate, create and personalize. That’s my main thing. I’m an OK singer, I’m an OK musician, but what I really think I have a yen for is trying to interpolate something new that people didn’t know before.

If you think about a song like “Jingle Bells,” it was not written for Christmas. It was a song from 200-something years ago that bears no mention of Christmas whatsoever, but we associate it so heavily with Christmas. Lately I hear Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” come up on Christmas playlists. I think it must have something to do with the Christian angle of the song and the reverence of the word “hallelujah,” but there’s no mention of Christmas.

So there’s a lot of different things that can make people feel like Christmas if you arrange it a certain way, and that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted this cocktail of songs that people didn’t know and I might be able to introduce to them in a really new, interesting way.

You duet with Adam Lambert, Evan Rachel Wood and Lainey Wilson. These people couldn’t be more different. How did you select your song partners for this?

Honestly, people are busy, so I leaned on friends of mine. The album is called A Very Darren Crissmas, and I wanted to make it just that. Songs that are very, very me, doing things that are very me, and using the talents of people who are legitimately in my life. Adam has been a pal for a long time. We’ve known each other from just adventures in Hollywood, but he, of course, was on Glee with me. Evan Rachel is a dear pal of mine; we’ve done some things together. She’s played my festival, and I’ve done comedy sketches with her and stuff. These are all extraordinarily talented singers. As I told them when I asked them to be a part of it, “I’d be very lucky to have you on this record.”

I had not met Lainey Wilson before I started this. But when you’re in Nashville, you are in the Olympic tent of USDA certified prime country singers. And that’s a bit of a blind spot for me as far as who’s on the up and up, who’s somebody that can really give a level of authenticity, legitimacy to a more classic ’50s Nashville sound, which is the song that I wrote called “Drunk on Christmas.” My producer Ron Fair, who has been living in Nashville for a while, suggested Lainey and we got on like a house on fire. She’s an extraordinary talent and I was happy to have her. These were all people that were part of this grassroots friend to friend thing. That’s how I got them and I’m very lucky that they’re on the record.

There are hundreds of Christmas songs. How did you choose what to include?

Choosing was extremely hard. I had a list of about 100 songs. I’m not done; this record is only phase one in my mind. There are so many songs that it will make your head spin. If you go, “Did you think about this song?” The answer is yes, and I absolutely had to deliberate which ones I had to triage out of the sequence.

I even said no to “The Christmas Song,” which is on the album. I didn’t want to do it because I was like, “Everybody knows it; it’s perfect by Nat King Cole,” and Mel Tormé [who wrote it] is one of my favorite artists of all time, much less songwriters and musicians. So I was like, “I don’t want to have to do that.” And on the day when we were there, we just had a guitar and said, “Let’s just do it for fun,” because I love singing that song. But I was like, “It’s been done perfectly too many times, I really don’t want to have to put myself up against that.” But we had a nice take, it’s live in the room. And hey, come on, it’s Christmas. So I left it on there.

If we were to come to your house during the holidays, what would you be listening to?

I’d probably sit you down and play you my favorite songs that you’ve never heard that I think are great Christmas songs. But what’s nice is I’ve now put those songs on this album, hopefully, in a perhaps delusional effort to standardize these songs in the Christmas pantheon. There has to be an air of delusion to being an artist in the first place. If one of these songs that no one’s ever heard before catches on with a family or a person and becomes part of their Christmas playlist every year, then I will have succeeded in my efforts.

What did the Emmy you won for The Assassination of Gianni Versace do for your career?

Although the Emmy has just my name on it, the number one thing that I’m most proud of is it’s more symbolic and representative of the work of the whole team. It is a validation and celebration of the really hard work of people that I spent a lot of time and energy with creating this role.

You have a couple voice roles coming up—in Trese and Yasuke—but what are we going to see you in next, not just hear you?

I don’t know. Let me know if there’s any opportunities. A huge reason for why this album was made was because I had the time. Making records takes a lot of time, and I’m envious of people who are just singers. I don’t know how people do that, that’s just not who I am. I’m a producer, I’m a writer, I’m a musician. It takes so much out of me to make a body of music because someone doesn’t say, “OK, here are the songs, show up on a Tuesday, you sing it and then you leave.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Some of my favorite artists can do that and are blessed enough to be able to just do that. I can’t.

It takes so much time for me to really get in the weeds, arrange, edit vocals, edit instrumentation, mix tracks, really getting in the jungle of music production. I can’t function any other way and that takes an extraordinary amount of time. Even when there was a global pandemic, I still had deadlines that we could barely make to finish this album because that’s just how my brain works.

So I haven’t been able to act. I haven’t had an acting job in almost two years. That’s not entirely true. I’ve had little bit things during the pandemic, but no big series or films or anything like that. It’s just been mostly working from home and being as proactive as I can be. I started a weekly podcast with a friend of mine, I put out an EP. I’ve been extremely busy with high output and low visibility. I’m waiting for the next thing, but I’m not one to sit still. If you give me time, I’m going to fill all the spaces out. So I did that with music this past two years.

Are you going to go back to Broadway now that it’s opening again?

I don’t want to say anything that is not perhaps confirmed 100 percent, but I will say with full confidence that I have always had the intention of going back exactly where we started. I’ll let them announce what’s happening because every show is in its own unique holding pattern. But, yes, right before the shutdown I was doing American Buffalo in New York, and talk about the actor’s dream, that is right up there. Doing a great American play that I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve had a long history with that show, and I finally get to do it for real with two of my favorite actors—Sam Rockwell and Laurence Fishburne. They are two acting heroes of mine.

So I was in rehearsals for that. We were about to go into tech, and things got shut down. But we’re in a very fortunate position where you’ve got two huge movie stars, you have a very well-known play and you have a fixed set and just three guys. There are musicals that have orchestras, big choruses and huge set pieces, and the overhead and upkeep of these productions is quite complicated. And a lot of them, for that reason, fell by the wayside during the pandemic, and it’s an awful tragedy. But our set and our billboard and our posters are exactly where we left them. It’s kind of a trip. If you go to Circle in the Square, I keep telling people it’s the longest I’ve ever been on Broadway because it’s just sitting there dormant, waiting to be resurrected.

I think all of us are planning on going back. I think the show is scheduled to reopen almost to the day that it was supposed to open in 2020. We’ll see how the schedule ends up, but you have three guys whose heart and soul is the theater. I don’t want to speak for the other two guys, but I’m almost positive that all three of us would rather be doing that play on Broadway than anything else. So when I say I haven’t had an acting gig in two years, it’s been a comfort to know that that was waiting for me on the other end. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we’ll be able to do it. We’ll have to make sure that everything is hunky-dory with theater audiences, et cetera, et cetera, but that’s the idea.

How did Ryan Murphy casting you in Glee change your life?

I said during my Emmy speech that actors are only as good as the moments they get. I used to say actors are only as good as the parts they get. Take that with a huge grain of salt, obviously, it’s not entirely true. But in context of that moment, certainly you can understand what I meant. Acting is a proactive craft, but in many respects it’s a passive career, where you have to hope and wait for a benefactor, a patron, a supporter to say, “OK, all right, kid, you’re up. I think you can do it.”

I think any artist’s life is a constant compromise between knowing what you can do and what you want to do, and having other people, audiences and creative authorities alike, have an idea of what you can do. You have to have that balance of somewhere in the middle, where hopefully you can rise to an occasion that you know you can do, that somebody’s going to give you the opportunity to do. But you’re not in control of that relationship, and so you have to sit and hope and pray that someone is going to give you that moment and that opportunity. That was something that I’m fully indebted to with Ryan.

Because he did say, “All right, kid, you’re up,” and gave me that shot. We talked about the The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story series for years before we did it. I didn’t think he was ever going to do it. By the time we started shooting, he probably mentioned it to me three or four years prior. And I kept asking about it like, “Hey, you still want to do this thing?” I think he was just always obsessed with the fact that I was half Filipino and that I bore a certain resemblance to the guy. Age and everything, it seems pretty spot-on. But he was a man of his word, and he really did end up making it. So I’m incredibly indebted to him and I’ve always been very effusive about that.

Now that you have this modicum of fame, what would you like to use it to accomplish?

For me, there are so many things that I love in this world that I don’t think other people are familiar with. One of the things about having a modicum of a platform is hopefully embracing that to use it as a gateway drug for stuff that people might not be familiar with. I don’t know if they’re going to like it as much as I do, but I’m looking at this track list and there are songs that I guarantee that you don’t know.

These are all things where I go, “OK, I have this moment of people’s attention, hopefully, this is a fun way to have them have eyes on something that I think is deserving of eyes, and not because of me, but because of other people who have made something amazing.” And, hopefully, they have the same proactive curiosity that I had growing up where I look at the liner notes and see who wrote the songs and where they came from. But we’ll see. We’ll see if people have that reaction.

You’ve accomplished so much. What’s the dream going forward?

The dream is to keep doing me, really. I think all you can do is be as true to yourself and try and do as accessible and as valuable work as you can. And, hopefully, in so doing, represent people, giving them visibility and encouragement towards their own place in the cultural conversation.

[helloalycia]

my happy ending [one] // kara danvers

summary: your crush from work decides to make a move, but she keeps putting off telling you something that you don't realise is actually really important

warning/s: none

author's note: i'm still working on a bunch of stuff but here's some old stuff to tide you over as i do. this is part one to a two-parter! enjoy :)

part two | masterlist

I sketched out some designs at my desk, ideas for some new Instagram and Twitter marketing CatCo we were planning to do. I was in charge of social media marketing at CatCo Worldwide, so things like this were routine at work. What wasn't routine was the cute blonde, Kara, AKA Cat Grant's assistant, approaching my desk with a chirpy smile on her lips.

"Hey, Y/N," she greeted, before setting down a coffee cup in front of me.

I smiled automatically, Kara's presence instantly affecting my mood in a positive way. I glanced at the cup and quirked an eyebrow.

"Hey, Kara. Is this for me?"

She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose adorably. "I was picking up Miss Grant's order and I remembered you said you loved the chocolate orange hot chocolates Noonan's do. So, I got you one."

I felt my cheeks heat up. "Oh, wow, er, thank you. You didn't have to do that."

She shrugged, and I was sure she looked as flustered as I felt. "No biggie."

I took a sip of the hot chocolate and smiled at how good it was, but mostly because of who got it me.

"So, what are you doing?" she asked, walking around my desk and sitting at the edge. She glanced at my sketches and added, "Is that the new fashion post for our social media accounts? They look amazing!"

"Just some sketches, but eventually they will be," I said, before nodding. "And thanks. I just need the photos so I know what I'm working with. Gotta ask the new guy, James... you met him yet?"

Kara nodded. "Yeah, I just bumped into him earlier."

"Can you believe he knows Superman?" I asked with disbelief. "How awesome is that?"

She smiled with amusement. "Extremely awesome."

"Keira!"

Kara lost her smile when Miss Grant called for her, before looking to me apologetically. "I should–"

"It's cool," I said, nodding for her to leave before Miss Grant tracked her down. "Thanks again for the drink."

Kara flashed me a smile. "Anytime. See you later."

I watched her walk away, waving as she glanced over her shoulder. I found myself biting my lip to contain my own smile, feeling butterflies in my stomach.

Kara Danvers, assistant to Cat Grant.

Ever since she began working here, I found myself crushing on the blonde and her cute mannerisms. We were friends, occasionally hanging out outside of work and doing things together. But that's all it was, sadly. I knew she was friends with Winn – best friends, I think – and I also knew that the tech guy was practically in love with her. I didn't know him as well as I knew her, but I knew enough to not want to get in between the two of them. So, Kara Danvers remained a silly little crush.

I got back to my sketches, managing to draft up some mock-ups on Photoshop before my day ended. I was more tired than I thought that evening, ending up falling asleep earlier than usual. Which meant that I missed the biggest news in National City yet – a mystery woman saving a plane from crashing, possibly a new superhero.

I woke up the next morning to a million and one calls and texts from colleagues at CatCo, all expecting me to get on social media to post about this mystery woman. By the time I got to work that morning, I was caught up with everything and in awe at this new superhero we had. It was pretty darn awesome!

The amazement I felt however was short lived, as Cat was all over me when I got to the office, claiming I should have been on top of our social media coverage as soon as it happened. Apparently me falling asleep wasn't a valid enough point to miss it, so I was put to work instantly, working with the photography and marketing department to find some sort of coverage on this mystery hero.

As I was lining up some posts with the limited images available of this hero, I felt a presence stop by my desk and saw it was Kara.

"Morning," she greeted, before glancing at my computer. "Oh, so you heard?"

I chuckled. "Kind of hard not to. It's everywhere." I nodded to the many TVs around the office that were playing reruns of the news coverage from last night.

"Pretty cool, right?" she asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Very, but it also means I now have a lot of work to do, especially because I fell asleep when all of this went down," I said, jokingly. "Cat has been all over me about this all morning."

Kara laughed and it was literally the best thing I'd heard all day.

"So, I was actually hoping I could tell you something," she said, an excited smile on her face as she met my eyes.

I felt a little flustered under her gaze and found myself distracting myself with my computer screen momentarily.

"I actually have a lot of things to do right now,” I said regretfully. “Maybe later?”

Her smile faded as she nodded. "Right, no, yeah, that's totally fine. Sorry."

"No, no, don't apologise," I said instantly, feeling a little bad. "I just– if I don't get this done, Cat will kill me."

"I got it, you do this, it's cool," she said reassuringly, offering me a small smile.

"Sorry," I tried, a little sad that there was nothing I could do. I really needed to get this done, despite wanting to spend some more time with Kara.

"It's fine, good luck," she said, giving me a grin and thumbs up before leaving.

I sighed, before getting back to work. Unfortunately, it was a few hours before I could get away from my desk, and I managed to track down Kara at her own desk, remembering she wanted to tell me something.

"Hey," I said, earning her attention.

She looked up from her notebook, smiling when she saw me. "Hey, you manage to get that content done?"

"Just about," I said, before offering a small smile. "Sorry again for blowing you off."

She waved her hand dismissively. "It's fine, honestly."

"I'm free now though," I said optimistically. "Maybe we could grab an early lunch? You can talk to me then?"

Kara pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she nodded slowly. "That sounds nice actually, yeah."

I felt a little relieved when she agreed. "Great. Well, I'll let you get your things and meet you by the elevator?"

She pursed her lips, suppressing a smile. "You got it."

We ended up getting lunch, as agreed, and it was nice to make it up to her. Though, I never really noticed that she never ended up telling me whatever it was that she wanted to tell me. I was so distracted by how smoothly our lunch was going that I forgot to ask her about it. Maybe if I'd asked, she might have told me the truth. Or she might have made something up and lied. I guess I would never know.

–

Did somebody say tiny umbrella drinks? #gottalovethetinyumbrellas #CatCoFoundation [image here]

I sent yet another tweet and picture out from CatCo's Twitter account, watching as it instantly got responses from everyone. I was at an event that Cat was throwing for all CatCo employees plus special guests. It was an event to raise money for Cat's foundation – a charity for children's hospitals in National City. My job was to live-tweet the heck out of the event, hoping to boost donations online.

It was a formal event, so I was comfortably dressed in some high-waisted pants and a silk blouse, it being my best attempt at 'formal' clothes.

The event wasn't too bad. There was free food and drinks, plus I got to hang out with some of my friends from work whilst doing the bare minimum. I just wasn't an evening person, I guess.

"Hey, stranger," a voice startled me, and I turned around, surprised to see Kara Danvers stood there.

I hadn't seen much of Kara in the past few months, despite working with her. She always seemed to be caught up with Winn, and she'd gotten quite close with the not-so-new guy, James Olsen. I wasn't stalking her or anything, but I began to notice when I would try to make plans with her like we used to – little things like grabbing coffee or going to watch a film after work – and she would decline or have plans already. Then I'd see her constantly being surrounded by Winn and James, so I figured she'd just made new friends.

"Kara," I breathed out, smiling as I took in her appearance. "Hey."

I hadn't seen her at all this evening and I was sure she just showed up because I definitely would have noticed how good she looked in that fitted red dress of hers.

"You look really nice," she said, looking me up and down before meeting my eyes.

"Thanks," I said, hoping my cheeks didn't look as warm as they felt. "So do you. You liking the event?"

Kara looked around, nodding. "It's beautiful."

"You did a good job," I said, giving her a knowing smile. "I know you planned it."

"This was all Cat, I just–"

"Kara, everybody knows you plan the events around here," I told her with a chuckle. "It's okay."

She smiled to herself, looking down. "Right." It went quiet for a moment before she looked up and said, "Do you want to dance?"

I was a little taken aback by her confidence, but nonetheless, I found myself nodding. She smiled as she held out her hand. I took it, feeling goosebumps from how soft her hands were.

She led me to the dance-floor, stopping and resting a hand on my waist, the other holding my hand. I nervously rested an arm on her shoulder as I focused on swaying to the music playing rather than stepping on her toes.

"I feel like I haven't seen you in a while," she said after a moment. I looked up and saw her blue eyes staring right through me.

"Well, we've both been busy," I attempted to give a reason.

She shook her head, smiling apologetically. "No, it's not that... it's my fault. I've been hanging out with James and Winn so much lately that I've been neglecting you."

I laughed a little awkwardly. "Kara, it's okay. You don't need to feel bad for having other friends. I mean, you don't have any obligations to me. They're your best friends. Of course you're gonna hang out with them."

She pursed her lips and I admittedly felt nervous as she stared at me, her expression unreadable. She was a little taller than me which didn't help with me trying to keep my emotions in check. She was extremely close to me as we swayed to the music and I could just about focus on it as she continued to stare at me.

"What if I want to have obligations to you?" she asked, and I almost thought she was joking until I realised that she wasn't.

I wanted to understand what she meant, but I didn't get to ask because she leaned forward and closed the gap between us with her lips. I was surprised at her boldness, pinning Kara for the shy type. Nonetheless, I returned the kiss, melting into her embrace and warmth.

We pulled apart soon enough, myself a little flustered from the kiss. My lips were still tingling as she met my eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"I hope that was okay," she muttered.

I nodded slowly, still surprised. "Yeah, it was."

My stomach was doing somersaults as I mirrored her smile; the gala was merely a blur in the background as I realised Kara Danvers had just kissed me. I definitely wouldn't have thought she felt something for me other than friendship.

"I'm assuming you want this to go somewhere," I said, a little stupidly.

She laughed melodiously as she nodded, intertwining her fingers in mine. "That's the plan, yes. But actually, er..."

"Second thoughts already?" I joked, though inside I was genuinely believing she might be second-guessing her decision, judging from her sudden change of facial expression.

"No, no," she said, shaking her head. "It's just, I feel like we should talk first. I have to tell you something. Before this goes any further."

She sounded quite affected by whatever it was, so I nodded, losing my smile for a moment.

"Of course, you can tell me whatever you need to," I reassured her, giving her hand a little squeeze. "Do you want to talk now or after?"

She opened her mouth to reply, but tilted her head to the side as she grew distracted. I waited patiently, expecting her to snap back into reality, but she seemed caught up with something else.

"Kara? You okay?" I asked, growing a little concerned.

"What? Yeah, sorry," she said, shaking her head before meeting my eyes with apologetic ones. "I'm sorry, I have to go for a minute. I just realised I have to check on the desserts for the party."

"Oh, okay." I nodded, giving her a small smile. "You can tell me whatever it is afterwards then?"

She smiled, nodding. "Yeah. I'll be back after, I swear."

I believed her and watched as she let go of my hand, already in a rush to leave. I wondered what was so time-sensitive about desserts, but decided not to question it as I realised the very obvious and surprising fact that Kara liked me.

As she turned to leave, she quickly turned back to me and moved forward, pressing a haste kiss to my cheek. My face heated up as she flashed me a beautiful smile, before moving to leave.

Just danced with the most beautiful girl in the room #CatCoFoundation

I looked up and saw Kara by the door, about to leave, but she stopped when her phone vibrated. After glancing at the screen, she paused and a wide smile graced her lips. Her eyes lifted and she gave me a knowing look before disappearing. I found myself smiling like an idiot the rest of the night.

I guess I should have realised, once again, that Kara never ended up telling me whatever it was that she wanted to tell me. I was so caught up in the fact that she returned my feelings that I never remembered to ask her what it was that she wanted to say. Maybe if I'd remembered, things would have ended up a little differently.

–

Kara and I went on some dates, our relationship blossoming naturally. It was the best thing to happen to me at the time – finding someone who I thought truly understood me, and vice versa. We had inside jokes, an 'our song', a favourite restaurant we frequented; we were happy and it was amazing. I was really falling for her. I thought she was perfect. Nothing could change that, I thought. She was everything I wanted.

"What are you thinking about in that pretty little head of yours?" Kara asked, tilting her head to look at me.

It was moments like this when I was in awe of her beauty, inside and out. She was comfortable, with her hair tied in a loose ponytail and her face makeup-free. Her glasses were balanced on her nose as she stared at me with an easygoing smile and sparkling eyes. I felt a sudden overwhelming flood of love for her as she waited for me to reply.

"I'm in love with you," I blurted out uncontrollably.

She raised her eyebrows slightly, mouth agape as she realised what I said.

"I'm sorry," I said, shaking my head. "That was random. And weird. Too soon, right? I freaked you out. I'm sorry."

Kara blinked several times, straightening up as she shook her head. "No, it's not, it's..." I watched her with anticipation, as she found her words. "It's fine. It's... I feel the same way."

It was my turn to be surprised now. I raised my eyebrows, a smile forming on my lips. "You do?"

Kara pursed her lips, eyes flickering up to meet mine. "Yeah."

I breathed out. "I'm really happy to hear that, especially because I thought I freaked you out, but like, I feel like something is bothering you, Kara."

Resting a hand on hers, I squeezed it gently. She offered me a small, troubled smile and I wondered what was occupying her thoughts.

"I trust you," she said gently. "I do. I love you. And I... I want you to know that I think what we have is amazing. I've never been happier."

"This sounds like a breakup," I joked, chuckling nervously. She wouldn't break up with me right after saying 'I love you', right?

"No, no, it's not!" she reassured immediately, taking any doubt from my mind. She leaned forward and cupped my cheek gently. "I'm not breaking up with you, silly."

"Good to know," I said playfully, resting my hand on hers and moving it to my lips, kissing it softly. "What is it though? What's on your mind? You can tell me anything you know."

She nodded. "I know... I can. I will. Now."

I stayed quiet, watching as she had some inner conflict going on. What was bothering her so much?

"I want to say that I–"

But she was cut off by her phone ringing. She rolled her eyes and I offered her an approving smile as she reached to answer it.

"Alex, hey, what's up?"

I sat back, keeping ahold of Kara's hand as she listened to Alex on the phone.

"Are you sure?" Kara said, concern in her voice.

I wondered what was going on, as the blonde was scrunching her brows together with worry. Her hand slipped from mine as she stood up, pacing.

"Okay, I'll be there now," she finished, before hanging up.

"Hey, that sounded serious, is everything okay?" I asked, standing up, too.

Kara nodded, already in the process of grabbing her things. "Yeah, sorry, it's just some family stuff with Alex. I should get going and help her out." She stopped moving and turned to face me, a distracted frown on her face. "I'm sorry. I know we were supposed to spend the evening together and I wanted to tell you something, but–"

"It's fine, Kara, you can just tell me another time," I cut her off, moving forward and rubbing her arm gently. "I hope everything is okay with Alex. I'll just see you at work tomorrow, yeah?"

Kara smiled tightly, nodding. "You're too understanding. It's annoyingly admirable."

I chuckled, stepping forward and pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. She had a few inches on me, so I had to step on my tip toes to reach, but seeing the little smile appear on her lips when I did made it worth it.

"Don't get stressed about whatever it is you wanna tell me," I added, meeting her eyes. "I'm sure it'll be fine. I love you and I'm really lucky to have you in my life. I don't think anything will ruin that. Just... remember that, okay?"

Kara nodded, her eyes flickering to the floor. "Thank you, Y/N."

"I'll leave you to it," I said, moving away to grab my coat and put on my shoes. "Good luck with whatever is up, and see you tomorrow."

As I was about to leave, her voice called out, "I love you, too."

I smiled widely at her before leaving, feeling lightweight because of all the love that was bubbling around inside of me. Once again, Kara managed to distract me from the fact that she had something big to tell me, as when I followed up the next day, she assured me that she just wanted me to know that she sometimes moved too fast in relationships and she didn't want me to feel like I was being rushed.

I believed her, blinded by what I thought was my happy ending, and that was that.

[pluviophile-bookworm]

HSMTMTS 2x10: New and a bit alarming... ok, very alarming

I don't even know at this point if I'm more nervous or excited for this episode. I've done my waiting and, well, whatever lies ahead, good or bad, or a little bit of both, I just can't wait anymore, even though I haven't been so scared to press play since... well, since last week. Guess I should just go for it, then:

Ooh, shady Seb doing the recap! We love to see it. Like, seriously, I'm anxious about the Seblos fight, but shady Seb is kind of my new favourite Seb.

I just... Ashlyn's acting is top tier. Emotional connection to the material? Superb! Chemistry with her co-lead... well, he'd have to be co-leading for any chemistry to be possible. I love Ricky, and I feel for him with all he's been through, but he's just not lead material right now. And it shows. Especially next to Ashlyn, who is killing it!

Miss Jenn is on the verge of a bloody mental breakdown and I just... wish I could do something to make things better. She reminds me of my mum when a deadline approaches for her to submit an article, and I just feel for her right now. Gosh, I'm feeling for everybody today. My empathy seems to be at its peak and I might just burst from all these emotions this episode is making me feel even before the 5-minute mark.

Ok, but Miss Jenn being stressed means Carlos is stressed for two, which means... this is a really bad time for him and Seb to have personal problems. My heart just can't handle it.

Wow... I never thought I'd see the day! The two leads are actually talking to each other! This is a mid-July miracle!

Why does everyone keep pretending their HSM was good? It was a flaming hot mess! A child could see that.

Miss Jenn needs a lot of work on her 'gracious face'. I, like Carlos, have quite some notes. Only mine aren't exactly, how do you say... verbally formulated quite yet.

Did Carlos just refer to Miss Jenn as 'mother'? Because yes.

I've been in a couple of local theatre productions in my day, but none of them had actual physical sets — we relied on the audience's imagination quite a lot — so I wouldn't know what a good set is made of... but even I can tell that plywood and Elmer's glue = not good.

Kourtney is a multi-tasking icon and we love her. I feel like I don't say this enough, but she deserves all the love.

Ooh, shady Seb is... well, shady! 'Quit school and get a job at the pizza shop?' — I mean, you don't see Reddy or Kourtney (or Howie, for that matter) quitting school in order to work at the Slices! Those kids juggle it all and, as someone who's never had to balance school and a job all at once, they have my deepest admiration.

Still, I think they should have thought about 'inventing' something re: transformation earlier than this point. The personal drama has taken up too much of their time.

Why does everyone keep inviting people over to Ashlyn's? I mean, it's not like I've ever heard her complain, but the girl needs some rest! And her house is not a public space.

Oh, so they're making this into a contest? I mean, I have never been a fan of competition, but to each their own. And Redlyn are hosting! This is going to be so beautiful! (You know, unless the boys try to sleep — see my post from yesterday about Reddy's background noise machine)

'I'm not worried. But North High should be!' Ooh, I love this look on Ashlyn! See, there's a lead to take notes from! And Ricky should be the first to do so. Take notes about what a lead acts like, I mean.

Oooooh, Big Red claps back! We love to see it. Although, you know, it stems from the fact that he's nervous about coming up with a solution to the transformation problem. 'I get bossy around the power tools' — Yes, sweetie, and I love that look on you. Maybe you should be around power tools more often, if that helps.

Ughhh, look what the cat brought in! Lily (I wish I knew her last name so I could refer to her by it exclusively, but we'll have to make do). I hate that girl. She reminds me quite exactly of the girl who bullied me in seventh grade to the point where I wished I'd die before having to deal with her at school again. She and Lily both bring out my aggressive side, and I hate that about them.

Ricky — 'so good at being a leading man'? I don't know what Lily is playing at here, but Ricky has not shown himself to be a very good leading man this season. He has the potential to be, but he has not fulfilled it by this point. Sure, he supports his friends and they support him, but that's basic decency. Not yet good leadership. No hate on Ricky, just the truth.

'I vaguely remember him' — please tell me this is setup for Ricky leading Lily on and then slamming the door in her face with the truth. The way I see it, he's been given a chance here. A chance to be the supportive, protective best friend Big Red deserves. I just... have a lot of ideas about this and I don't want it to end badly instead.

'I'm just not well-liked here, and I don't know what to do' — well, of course you aren't well-liked, you little— (ok, ok, calm down, breathe, 10, 9, 8...) whatever. I mean, she hasn't even considered basic decency, as it seems. Must be a new concept to her.

'Don't start with me, Carlos!' Wow. As much as I hate it that my two faves' only interaction in so long is so hostile, I kind of like this side of Big Red. I wonder what other sides of himself he's been hiding.

Listen, I don't like Seb being patronised and babied, but... 'Chip, this is your mother speaking: go call your mother!' made me laugh so hard. They're leaning into the on-stage family dynamic and I live for it.

EJ's idea of using old skateboards for the spinning contraption is... a brilliant callback to the fact that Ricky and Big Red were first characterised as skateboarders... you know, before diving headfirst into the theatre thing. And it feels like it might actually work.

Miss Jenn's excitement at seeing Mr Mazzara ('Benjamin!!!') is perhaps only topped by the fact that he was halfway home, got a text from her and instantly went back to the school. I mean, these two have something that's really big.

Miss Jenn referring to the kids as 'my children', combined with Carlos calling her 'mother' earlier just warms my heart so much! Those guys really are family. I live for it.

Ok, but... as clear as it is that the Wildcats are very far behind NH in terms of budget, rehearsal time and who knows what else, I hate seeing Miss Jenn resigned to them losing. I want to see her have faith in them, talk about how they will win, and, in her own words, 'trust the process'. I mean, I guess it's good that, as a teacher, she wants to prepare her kids for a possible defeat (and I mean really possible if they don't step up their game immediately, especially some of them * cough* Ricky *cough *), but a team that goes out to the field expecting to lose has a very minimal chance of winning.

Despite everything I've been saying again and again about Nini lately, the fact that she just delivered a very different 'No, Seb' has just redeemed her. See, this one wasn't dismissive or patronising — this was like, 'no, Seb, don't put yourself down' and I love that spin on the catchphrase I'd grown to hate. See, many things can be redeemed. And some simply cannot. * cough* Devil's spawn Lily *cough *. Also, Seb being self-conscious about the fact that Carlos 'doesn't have many options' at East Hight is the perfect setup for In a Heartbeat — meaning they will either have a chance to talk about their issue, or they have a telepathic connection, in which case, what kind of soulmate stuff is that?

'You're my sister; he's my cousin' — yeah, Ash, putting it like that makes it sound a lot weirder than it should, but I do get what you're trying to say. This is not a drill! Ashlyn is a Portwell shipper (heck, maybe even the captain of that ship) — but I feel like we already knew that.

'Why'd I never hear about this?' — and there it goes. Within the same scene, Nini was redeemed and then made aggravating again. What does she care if Gina thought Ricky sent her chocolates? He didn't. Because he and Gina can't be anything but very good friends. And I feel like good friends is what Gina needs. Maybe that's why I wanted EJ to be that for her initially (or it was because I'm aroace and don't tend to notice romantic attraction between fictional characters — or real people for that matter — unless it's explicitly stated to be there). But I've been on board of the majestic S.S. Portwell for a few weeks now and it's finally about to set sail.

Yeah, Nini, get a root beer, calm the heck down and get over it!

'Your other clockwise!' — Why does this even need to be said? How many 'clockwise's are there? I absolutely understand why Big Red gets the way he gets around power tools. I'd be on edge too, if the people I was trying to work with didn't know what way clockwise is. Still, I feel like by the time I'm 30, nobody younger than me would have a reason to know what way clockwise is, and I don't know if I feel bad or neutral about it.

Oh, so there's no telepathy involved in Seblos' problem resolution — it's been Redlyn's good communication all along. I might have known.

Ooh, Portwell is being discussed on both sides! PORTWELL NATION HOW WE FEELING

Nini? Why is everything about Nini? There's no way everything is about Nini. In all seriousness, though, EJ's worries about letting the next girl go seem valid in regards to Gina, given that she explicitly stated (though not within earshot of EJ or anyone who could have tipped him off) that she needs someone who will show up and stay. But they'll figure it out. They'll find a way. I know it. They will, or I will riot, and I know I won't be alone in that.

Ooh, Howie is giving Kourtney the original blueprints! Looks like Reddy isn't the only one who has a spy on the inside.

Ahhh, Ricky! Not 'Let You Go' again. I haven't cried to it in three days and I was not ready to break that streak. But... wait, this is where Carlos approaches Ricky to ask him for help with writing a song for Seb, isn't it? I am definitely ready for this.

Oh, is it... is it Ricky who suggests Carlos write a song for Seb? Now that is what a good leading man looks like.

'I'm adjusting to being called bro' — me too, Carlito, me too. But... this scene must have been so emotional for Josh, given that he hadn't come out yet. I remember him crying during The Climb and... all I'm saying is I want Ricky to come out at some point, too.

Oh gosh oh gosh oh gosh... they were just talking about love languages and that's when Carlos shows up? Cinematic. Wait, there's Portwell too? This is what dreams are made of.

My oh my oh my! Risotto! For real this time. I might have just teared up. (Full disclosure: I did.) I've only had Portwell for about three weeks, but if anything happens to them, I will... you know how the meme goes. [side note: Wait, when I said 'for real this time', I was not expecting EJ would say it, much less word for word. Am I... writing this show now? It's usually my dad who predicts people's lines in TV shows]

'Not that I know of'... excuse me while I hyperventilate! These two are literal soulmates. They might share a brain, too, for all that I know. Portwell nation you ok guys?

I love that Ricky helped Carlos out with this song and is supporting him through it, but... I just might have preferred for him not to be there. I kind of need Seblos to have this moment to themselves. But, you know, with the way they feel about each other it might as well be like they're alone in the universe, let alone the room.

Ok, but Frankie's voice... brings out feelings in me that I didn't know I was capable of. Make of that what you will. Also, I'm not sobbing my eyes out, you are.

Ahhh Reddy my sunshine my sweet boy I love you but why did you have to cut Seblos' moment short? They were going to kiss, I know it. Oh well, they probably will, later on. Off-screen probably, but who cares? Not everything is for us to see. At least Carlos and Ricky had a moment there... Carlos calling Ricky 'bro' made me more emotional than I expected. It's like Miss Jenn says in s1: 'They're best bros, and that's a sacred thing... for reasons I will never understand'.

Ricky's acting sounds like a cat about to spit up a hairball, and it's so funny... in a scene that is supposed to be arguably the most dramatic of the entire play, that is not a good thing.

Oh my, oh my... you did not! You did not just end the episode with Ricky taking a fall from who knows how high. I was not ready. This episode was entirely too much for me. I will need 10 to 15 business days to recover from this, and we all know there aren't that many. But in the meantime you'll find me obsessively listening to In a Heartbeat for hours on end. Seriously, this episode is too much.

[c-is-for-circinate]

I'd love to hear more of your thoughts about why P5R didn't quite land for you. I had the same reaction to it, but I've never quite been able to properly articulate why the last section fell so flat.

God okay so I've tried several times to answer this, and it seems like the answer is 'I still have way too many feelings, personally, to say this in anything less than thirty pages and fifteen hours of work', because Persona 5 the original is a game I loved a lot and care about a great deal. And most of the reasons I disliked Royal feel, in my head, like a list of ways it broke some of the things I liked best about P5--which means explaining them feels like I need to explain everything I loved about the original game, which is a book in itself, complete with referents to P3, P4, Jungian psychology, the Joseph Campbell mytharc, and fuck all even knows what. And that is too much.

But today I realized that I could instead describe it from an angle of, Persona 5 Strikers succeeds really well at doing the thing I think Royal was trying to do but failed at. And that I think I can talk about in a reasonable amount of wordspace, hopefully, behind this cut because I have at least one friend who hasn't played Royal yet.

Note for reblogs/comments: I HAVE NOT FINISHED STRIKERS YET. I got through the jail that pretended to be the final jail and have not yet gone into the obviously inevitable 'ohshit wait, you mean there's something more than simple human machinations behind all of this?' dungeon. (I got stuck on a really frustrating side quest, put the game down, and then dived into Hades to avoid throwing the Switch across the room for a while--and anyone around this blog lately knows how THAT'S been going.) Please no spoilers past Okinawa!

So, one of the many, many things I really appreciated about Persona 5 was its straightforward and unashamed attitude towards abusers and their acts of violence. Because, while yes P5 is a story about the use of power and control to make others suffer, it fundamentally isn't about those abusers themselves. It's about their victims, those that survive their crimes. And this shows up repeatedly over the course of the game.

We do not give a shit why Kamoshida wanted to beat and rape his students. We really don't. Kamoshida does not deserve our attention one moment longer than it takes to make him stop. Because, ultimately, that's the goal of P5, start to end. We don't know for sure if what we're doing is fair, if it's justice, if it's questionable. What we know is that people are being hurt, badly, actively, right now this second. What we know is that victims are suffering. What we know is that we, personally, us-the-protag and us the Phantom Thieves at large, are in danger. And in those circumstances, we don't care about the abuser's side any more. We don't. We don't have the space or time or capacity to care, because that is not the point.

The point is to help the weak. To save the people who need saving, right here and now. To give others the courage to stand up on their own behalf. We're not even out to change society, not really--that's a byproduct. We are reactions. We are triage. We are important.

There's something so empowering and validating about that as a theme, y'know? In a media landscape so full of "sympathetic villains", the idea that, you know, maybe sometimes you don't have to break yourself to show compassion that might possibly heal the bad guy--that sometimes you can just make the bad guy stop hurting people--feels both refreshing and satisfying. I really appreciate it as a message! I liked it a lot!

And yes, there's nuance to that theme, and the game is not without compassion. We save Futaba, because 'make the bad guy stop hurting people', in that case, means 'make this person stop hurting herself'. We give Sae a path forwards, help her fix her own heart. Yet it's worth pointing out that in both of those cases, while we were very glad to do those things, to save those people, we also went into both of those palaces for extremely practical reasons to begin with. We needed Futaba's help. We needed Sae's help. The fact that we chose to talk Sae into a change of heart rather than simply stealing her treasure, while ultimately a very good thing for her, was absolutely a practical choice predicated on the need for her palace to still exist to save our life. And yes, we wanted to save her, for Makoto's sake--yes, we wanted desperately to save Futaba. But Sae and Futaba let themselves be helped, too, and that doesn't change the overarching themes of the story itself.

Akechi (and to some extent Okumura) would not let himself be helped. Akechi's another interesting nuance to this theme, because of all our villains, we do learn the most about what drove him to the cruelties and crimes he's committed. He's at that intersection of victim and villain, and we want to help him, as a victim--but we also know that stopping him as a villain is more important. We'd like to save him from himself if we could, because we save people from their sources of trauma, it's what we do. We regret being unable to do so. But in the end, what matters to the story is not that Akechi refused to be saved--it's that Shido and Yaldabaoth need to be stopped, for the sakes of everyone else they're hurting now and may continue to hurt in the future.

The thing is, there's space and maybe even a need for a corollary discussion of those places where victim and villain intersect. It's an interesting, pertinent, and related topic. Strikers made an entire video game about it, a really good video game. It's centered in the idea that, yes, these people need to be stopped, and we will make stopping them our priority--but they're not going after us, and that gives us some space to sympathize. Even for Konoe, who specifically targets the Phantom Thieves--compare him to Shido, who actively destroyed the lives of both Joker and Futaba, who ordered Haru's father's death, who's the entire reason the team is still dealing with the trauma of Akechi's everything. Of course the game can be sympathetic to Konoe where it can't with Shido. There's enough distance to do that.

But right--Strikers is a separate game. It's a separate conversation. It's, "last time, we talked about that, so now let's take it one step further." And that's good writing. (It's something Persona has done before, too, also really well! Persona 3 is about terrible, occasionally-suicidal depression and grief. P4 is about how you can still be hurting and need some help and therapy even if things seem ok. Related ideas, but separate conversations that need to be separate in order to be respectful and do justice to either one. P5, as a follow-up to P4, is a conversation about how, ok, changing yourself is great and all, but sometimes the problem is other people so how do you deal with that? Again, still related! Still pertinent! Still alluded to in P4, with Adachi's whole thing--but it wasn't the time or place to base a quarter of the game around it.)

So one of Royal's biggest issues, to me, is that it tries to tack on this whole new angle for discussion onto a game that was originally about something else.

Adding Maruki's palace--adding it at the end, which by narrative laws suggests that it's the true point that everything else should be building up to--suddenly adds in about a hundred new dimensions at once. It wants us to engage with "what in this abuser/manipulator's life led him to act this way?" for basically the first time all game (we'll get to Akechi later). It wants us to engage with, "if the manipulator has a really good reason or good intentions, does that mean we should forgive them?" It requires us to reflect on, "what is the difference between control and cruelty?" It asks, "okay, but if people could be controlled into being happy, would that be okay?" (Which, based on the game so far, is actually a wild out-there hypothetical! Literally not a single thing we've seen in the game suggests that could ever happen. Even the people who think being controlled is safer and easier are miserable under it. Control that's able to lead to actual happiness is completely out of left field in the context of everything we've encountered all game so far.)

That's too much! We don't have time to unpack all that! We only have an eighth of the game left! Not to mention we are also being asked to bring back questions we put to bed much earlier in the game about the morality of our own actions, in a wholely unsatisfying way. Maruki attempts to justify his mass brainwashing because "it's the same as what you're doing", and we know it isn't, but the game didn't need Maruki calling it out in order for us to get that. We already faced that question when we started changing hearts, and again several times throughout the game, and again when we found our targets in Yaldabaoth's cells. The fact that we change hearts does not mean we think "changing hearts is fine and kind and should be done to everyone, actually." Changing hearts has been firmly established in this game as an act of violence, acceptable only because it prevents further systemic violence against innocents that we must prevent. The moral question has never once been about whether it's ok to change the hearts of the innocent, only about how far it's ethical to go against individuals who are actively hurting other people. Saying "you punched that guy to keep him from shooting a child, so punching people is good and I will save the world by punching everyone!" is confusing! and weird! and not actually at all helpful to the question of, how much violence is it acceptable to use to protect others! So presenting the question that way just falls really flat.

(And right, I love Strikers, because Strikers has time to unpack all that. Strikers can give us a main bad guy who wants to control the whole world for everybody's own good, because Strikers has earned that thematic climax. It has given us sympathetic bad guys who started out wanting to control the world to protect themselves and ended up going too far. It's given us Mariko Hyodo, who wanted to control the world to protect other people and went too far. It's given us a long-running thread about police, the desire to serve, and the abuse of power that can lead to. And since we are actively trying to care for the people whose hearts we're changing in Strikers, we can open the door to questions about using changes-of-heart and that level of control to make other people happy. We can even get a satisfying conclusion out of that discussion, because we have space to characterize the difference--Konoe thinks that changing peoples' hearts means confining them, but the Phantom Thieves think it means setting them free. We have seen enough sympathetic villains that we as an audience have had the space to figure out how we feel about that, and to understand the game's perspective of "stop them AND save them, if we can possibly do both." And that message STILL rests firmly on Persona 5's message of "it is Good to do what you have to do to stop an abuser so long as you don't catch innocent people in your crossfire.")

It's worth noting that the general problem of 'asking way too many new questions and then not answering them' also applies to how Royal treats its characters, too. P5 did have unanswered questions left at the end! The biggest one, and we all knew this, was Akechi, and what actually happened to him, and how we should feel about him, and how he felt about us. That was ripe for exploring in our bonus semester, and to Royal's credit they did in fact try to bring it up, but by god did they fuck up doing it.

Akechi's probable death in the boiler room was absolutely the biggest dangling mystery of the game. It was an off-screen apparent death of a key antagonist, so all of the narrative rules we know suggested that he might still be alive and would probably come back if the story went on for long enough. So when Royal brings him back on Christmas Eve, hey, great! Question answered. Except that the situation is immediately too good to be true, and immediately leads to another mystery, which leads to a flat suspicion that something must be wrong. We spend several hours of gameplay getting sly hints that, oooh, maybe he's not really alive after all, before it's finally confirmed by Maruki: yup, he really died, if we end the illusion we'll kill him too. Okay, at least we know now. Akechi is alive right now and he's going to be dead if we do this, and that doesn't make a ton of sense because every other undead person disappeared when the person who wished for them realized they were fake but at this point we'll take it. So we take down Maruki, and okay, Akechi really is dead! Probably! We're fairly sure! Aside from our lingering doubts!

And then we catch a glimpse of maybe-probably-could be him through the train window, and I just want to throw something, because come on.

Look, it is just a fact of storytelling: the more times you make an audience ask 'wait, is this character dead or aren't they?', the less they will care, until three or four reversals later you will be hard pressed to find anybody who gives a shit. Royal does this like four different times, and every iteration comes with even less certainty than the last. By the end, we somehow know even less than we did when we started! Did Akechi survive the boiler room to begin with and Maruki just didn't know? Or was Maruki lying to try and manipulate us further? Or was he actually dead and then his strength of will when Maruki's reality dissolved was enough to let him survive after all? Is that even actually him out the train window?

Where is he going! What is he doing! How did any of this happen! What is going on! We all had these questions about Akechi at the end of the original P5, and the kicker is that Royal pretends like it's going to answer them only to go LOL JK NO. It's frustrating and it's dissatisfying and it annoys me.

The one Akechi question that Royal doesn't even bother to ask, though, let alone leave ambiguous, is how does the protagonist feel about him? The entire emotional weight of the third semester rests on the protagonist caring about Akechi, Sumire, and Maruki. Maruki's the person we're supposed to sympathize with even as we try to stop him. Sumire's the person we're trying to save from herself. And Akechi is our bait--is, we are told, the one thing our protagonist wished for enough to actualize it in this world himself. Akechi's the final lure to accept Maruki's deal. Akechi's survival is meant to be tempting.

For firm Akechi fans, this probably worked out fine--the game wanted to insist that the protagonist cared for Akechi the same way the player did. For those of us who're a little more ambivalent, though (or for the many and valid people who hated him), this is a super sour note. Look, one of the Persona series' strengths is the way it lets players choose to put their time and emotional investment into an array of different characters, so the main story still has weight even if there's a couple you don't care about that much. It has always done this. The one exception, from P3 all the way through P4 to here and now, is Nanako Dojima, and by god she earned that distinction. I have never met a person who played Persona 4 who didn't love Nanako. Nanako is a neglected six-year-old child who is brave and strong enough to take care of herself and all of the housework but who still tries not to cry when her dad abandons her again and lights up like the sun when we spare her even the tiniest bit of time and attention. It is impossible not to care for Nanako. Goro Akechi is not Nanako.

And yet third semester Royal doesn't make sense if your protagonist doesn't feel linked to Akechi. The one question, out of all the brand new questions Royal throws out there, that it decides to answer all by itself--and it's how you as a player and your protagonist ought to feel about an extremely complex and controversial character. What the fuck, Royal. What the fuck.

In conclusion, I'll leave you with this. I played the original Persona 5 in March and April of 2017, as an American, a few months after the 2016 election and into the term of our then president. It felt painfully timely. A quick calendar google early on indicated that the game's 20XX was almost certainly 2016, and the closer our plot got to the in-game November leadup to an election destined to be dominated by a foul and charming man full of corruption and buoyed up by his own cult of personality, the more I wanted to laugh/cry. It felt timely. It felt important. It felt right.

I went through Royal (in LP form on youtube, not having a platform to play it on) in summer of 2020, with a hook full of face masks by my front door and protests about racial tension and local policing that occasionally turned into not-quite-riots close enough to hear at night if I opened the windows of my apartment. The parts of the game that I remembered felt as prescient and meaningful as ever, if not even more so. The new parts felt baffling. Every single evil in the game felt utterly, painfully real, from the opening moments of police brutality to the idea of a country led by a guy who probably would use his secret illegitimate teenage son as a magical assassin if the opportunity presented itself and he thought he could get away with it. Yaldabaoth as the cumulative despair of an entire population who just wanted somebody to take over and make things be okay--yes, yes, god, in summer of 2020? With streets full of people refusing to wear masks and streets full of people desperate for change? Of course. Of course that holy grail of safety should be enticing. Of course it should be terrifying.

And then Maruki. Maruki, who was just so far outside the scope of anything I could relate to the rest of the game or my own life. Because every single other villain in the rest of Persona is real. From the petty pandering principal to the human-trafficking mob boss. The corrupt politicians and the manmade god of cultural desire for stability. And this game was trying to tell me that the very biggest threat of all of them, the thing that was worse than the collective force of all society agreeing to let this happen because succumbing was easier than fighting back--that the very biggest threat of all was that the world could be taken over by some random nobody's misguided attempts to help?

No. Fuck no. I don't buy it. Because god, yes, I have seen the pain and damage done on a tiny and personal and very real level by the tight-fisted control of someone trying to help, it never looked like this. Not some ascended god of a bad therapist. All the threats to the world, and that's the one I'm supposed to take seriously? This one man is more of a threat than the fundamental human willingness to be controlled?

Sorry, but no. Not for me. Not in this game. Not in this real-life cyberpunk dystopian apocalypse.

[bungamawar001]

Murder Mystery

this is supposed to be for Cubetober day one, but my mind blanked out in the middle of it, so i finished it late. also i wrote this in three different times of day with three different states of mind, so if it's inconsistant that's why.

anyway, this is set in my au that i made when i was 13, so i apologize to anyone reading this if it's scuffed, but it still holds a very special place in my heart, so here it is.

~~~~~~~

Sparklez was talking. Jesse wasn’t really paying attention to what he was saying, but it probably wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. What he was more interested in were the rest of the people seated in front of him. Their bubbles (or auras as was the proper term, apparently) to be exact.

Because the ones surrounding these people were strange. They were denser than the average person’s back in his home dimension, which usually meant they were physically stronger, but none of them looked like they could lift more than any other average person. A likely explanation was just that was how people were in this world, and that was all fine and dandy, but the one that concerned him the most was, ironically, the most normal of their group.

Alright, not normal, but her gold blinking aura was familiar, and to top it off, it was dense and had range. The only times he’d ever felt a bubble like this was with the members of the Order of the Stone. And even if they couldn’t lift more than their own body weight in the best of days, they still had their abilities. Which Jesse found out was the reason for the density and range.

This girl, however, (Cassie Rose, his mind supplied for him) was supposedly from this world. And yet, she had the aura of a person with the same sort of abilities as the old Order of the Stone and himself. Which, if that wasn’t suspicious-

He snapped his attention to where Dan’s fizzling started leaning more towards curiosity than anxiety. It could be something Sparklez had said, but no one else’s mood had shifted quite like his… also, he was looking under the table. Interesting.

“-whoever invited us-”

“Whatcha got there, Dan?”

Sparklez started as Jesse abruptly cut him off, and the entire table turned their attention towards him. Jesse nearly staggered at the weight of the scrutiny, but he managed to keep his gaze on the dual-colored aura.

“O-oh, um, it’s just this button, see?” Dan pushed his chair back and stood up to reveal that there was indeed a button under the table. “I was just thinking that it was an odd place to put one…”

“Dan!” Lizzie looked at her friend incredulously, her swirls now had a hint of exasperation, but the anxiety seemed to multiply tenfold, ��Don’t tell us you were about to press it!”

“What?” He was quick to defend himself as his fizzling shifted to fear and embarrassment. It was mostly the fear, though. “No! No, of course not-”

A quick glance around the table to the rest of his friends seemed to drain his resolve, “W-well, I-I mean - “

He stumbled around his words for another second before he threw his hands up and covered his face, “You guys know how I am with buttons! Give me a break!”

Surprisingly, despite how wound up they looked, they did stop glaring at him. And yet…

‘They’re all suspicious of him now’, Jesse thinks to himself as he glances around at the rest of the auras around him. ‘Well, all of them. Except for one.’

Cassie’s gold blinked in anticipation, satisfaction, and a hint of regret that kept coming and going. Which, combined with her odd aura was a dead giveaway that she was the culprit, one hundred percent. At least, that’s what Jesse thought, in any case-

“Oh, hey. I have one too.” Everyone turned their heads towards StampyCat just in time to see him press the button on his side of the table.

“Stampy, DON’T-!”

Jesse wasn’t sure who yelled, but it didn’t matter. Because one second, Sparklez was standing right beside him, and then the next his chair tipped backwards towards a gaping hole that had opened up in the floor.

His reflexes had gotten better ever since a year ago, when they were still in that treehouse, but even then, he could do nothing but watch as his fingers brushed against Sparklez’s sleeve before he dropped into the abyss down below. He thought he felt someone whizz by him as he watched Sparklez fall, but there wasn’t any time to think about it before sand fell from the ceiling and filled up the hole.

At this point, everybody’s auras were swirling, fizzing, popping with fear, anxiety, grief. It was getting harder and harder to keep the forigen emotions at bay along with his own. It didn’t help that Cassie Rose (because she was a damn good actor, but she sure as hell can’t mask her inner self), aka White Pumpkin, aka the current literal bane of his existence, decided to put on a show right after the goddamn murder.

So when the lights turned on again, Jesse found himself kneeling on the floor and clutching his head. It took all of his power to not hurl his guts right then and there. Petra and Lukas, the godsends, seemed to be hoarding everyone out of the room, while Ivor had somehow ended up beside him with his hand on his head. He hadn’t been able to sense Gabriel anywhere since the sand fell, and he would’ve been more concerned over it if he were in any better shape.

As it was, he felt his nausea gradually receding as he felt the effects of Regeneration wash over him. Or maybe it was Health. He vaguely remembered Ivor trying to teach him something about that, although he can’t quite remember at the moment.

“Jesse? How do you feel?” Ivor’s voice cut through the fog in his brain, and he mentally thanked the man for keeping his volume down.

“I’m- I think I’m okay now.” He stayed on the floor for a second. Just to try and fill in the gaps in his memory after Sparklez…

He was instantly overcome with guilt at that thought. So much so that Ivor’s hand left his head as he recoiled from the intensity of it. It came back a second later, and Jesse could feel the other’s concern from where Ivor was sitting next to him.

“Jesse?”

“It- the- the sand- Sparklez…”

Ivor’s royal blue aura shimmered with relief, and Jesse looked at him in confusion as the older man lightly shook his head.

“Sparklez is fine, Jesse. I activated Speed and caught him before he fell.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. It’ll be a pain to try and explain that to the newcomers, however.”

Well. That’s a relief. Not the explaining part. But at least no one died this time. He’ll probably still have nightmares about this incident though. Bummer.

~~~~~~~~~

When Jesse and Ivor finally stepped out into the main hall, they took a double take at the scene in front of them.

Stampy was hiding behind Gabriel and Petra; Dan and Lizzie were in an argument against Stacy and Cassie; and Sparklez and Lukas seemed to be stuck in the middle failing to act as mediator between the groups.

“This is Stampy we’re talking about, guys! He didn’t do it on purpose!” Lizzie’s pink was swirling with anxiety and it seemed like her resolve was faltering.

“He still pressed the button! After all the grief we gave Dan for thinking about it, he still pressed it!” Stacy’s navy was the opposite. There was fear there, sure. But her anger and betrayal was burning much stronger and more decisively than Lizzie’s.

It would probably be a smart idea to diffuse this situation sooner rather than later.

“Hey! Hey, guys?” Jesse tried. They seemed to be too caught up in yelling at each other to have noticed the new arrivals.

“I would’ve pressed it! If Jesse hadn’t stopped me I would’ve! I was curious about it, and Stampy was too!” Dan’s blue and white aura was a sight to behold. Not because of the dual colors, Jesse's gotten over that while he’d been questioning him. His anger was making his bubble fizzle and spark, and his desperation was thick in the air.

“What Dan said!” Stampy’s aura was chilly with fear and betrayal. Which was valid, since two of his friends were vehemently against him..

“So you admit to being the White Pumpkin?” Cassie Rose. Her gold aura was bleeding with victory and even more regret. There was also a sort of desperate relief much closer to her core that almost had Jesse wondering why she was doing this..

Almost.

“Guys, I have-”

“Allll right! Let’s not start accusing people with doubtful evidence-”

Stacy whipped around to face her friend, “You were the one who fell because of him, Sparklez!”

“Yes, I know that, just- just hear me out, okay?” CaptainSparklez’ bright red aura had been calm, for the entire time that Jesse had been around him. Even now, after his brush of death, and the layers of anxiousness and fear within him, his aura didn’t send wave after wave of emotions like Jesse expected.

He didn’t know if that was the reason everybody settled, or because Sparklez was the one who nearly died this time, but finally, Stacy’s angry burning mellowed down to a smaller flame, and Dan’s sparks grew less intense, although his anger was still fizzling quickly and quietly in his own bubble.

“I- I know this has been a very stressful evening for all of us, but Stampy’s our friend. I know we haven’t known him as long as Lizzie and Dan have, Stacy, Cassie, but I know him well enough to be positive that he wouldn’t do something like this on purpose.”

“...fine,” With that, Stacy’s anger disappeared, and in its place was a mix of doubt and regret. Maybe she wasn’t really angry at Stampy in the end? There were only so many people to blame, after all. “But if you’re so sure he didn’t do it, then who did?”

Cassie’s bubble started to blink rapidly in desperation, and Jesse rushed to interject before she could say anything, “I know who it is.”

Before anyone could react and without missing a beat, Cassie responded, “Is it you?”

“Wha- No! I’m not going to say names without any further proof, but it’s not me!”

“That sounds like something a suspicious person would say.”

Jesse’s had just about enough of this ginger, honestly, “And how would you know what a suspicious person sounds like?”

“Like you, clearly.”

“I am not-!”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Gabriel grabbed Jesse’s arm and pulled him away. “We have more important things to worry about.”

Right. Finding proof.

~~~~~~~

It was a hassle, trying to get everyone to agree to stay in the same room while Jesse, Ivor, and Petra took a look around. Eventually, they reached a compromise when it was brought up that Ivor was the one who saved Sparklez. Unfortunately, part of that compromise was they had to bring Cassie with them.

He risked a glance at the golden bubble blinking rapidly with determination and sighed. This was going to be a long night.

[shiftylinguini]

Do you take prompts? If not, have a nice day, but if so, I love your Bound series, and I was wondering if you'd consider a prequel about Remus first realizing that he's both desperate for, and desperately possessive of, Sirius, when they were back in school.

YES, hello, I do, however it goes without saying that it takes me forever to actually post them LOL. Anyway, I wrote this yonks ago and tidied it up this afternoon because I was in a Mood, and here we go. 

Warnings for jealousy, Hogwarts era, casual promiscuity and references to Sirius/OFC, werewolfy imagery, Irish Remus and general angst regarding boys being careless with each others’ feelings. enjoy! lol. 

It’s Halloween, and Remus is miserable.

***

It’s Halloween, and Remus is miserable.

There's a party in the dungeons; the Slytherins are hosting. "They're twats," James declared before he left their dorms, deliberately dishevelled in his pirate costume, a cutlass dangling from one hand and cider in the other. "But they throw a good piss up."

Peter agreed, predictably affable and struggling into his Peter Pan outfit. Sirius ignored them both, concentrating on doing his eyeliner right. He's a self-declared glam rock icon tonight, black glitter and flares and Marc Bolan curls. His pirate costume (second mate to James's Hook, of course) lay discarded on his bed in favour of something louder, more offensive, more Muggle.

They've all been too polite to ask why. (They all know it's because Regulus might be there).  

The party probably is good. Remus isn't there.

He was there, for an hour or so. Just long  enough for two chipped mugs of butterbeer heavily spiked with cheap whiskey and to see Sirius with his tongue down Margot Holdings' throat, his lipstick smearing crimson onto hers.

Remus begged off then, made his escape after throwing James some crap excuse about how the moon two nights ago was still making him feel woozy. James knew it was bullshit. He said nothing though, and let Remus scarper off like a kicked dog. James is the best of mates that way; he bulldozes through most conversations and into people's lives but he knows when to be quiet, how to keep a secret.

When to let Remus skulk off to their dorm to hide in his bunk and stew about Sirius.

Remus pulls the curtains tight. He kicks his shoes off, but leaves the rest of his costume as it is, pressing his face to the pillow and probably smearing lazy Dracula greasepaint all over it. It was a half-arsed effort, really. Three quarter-arsed, at best; Remus doesn't like dressing up as monsters. (He has enough of a time playing human).

He closes his eyes, then opens them again. He huffs grumpily against the pillow, wriggling to get comfortable and failing. He feels crap. He has no valid excuse for it―not one he's willing to admit to.

James knows about Remus and Sirius, and the bed hopping between them. He has ears, and eyes, and the dorm's not that big. It's not really a secret. The four of them just act like it's one, for everybody's sake.

Whatever it is, it's usually just a mess. And not a particularly monogamous one.

Remus has no reason to be upset about it. He and Sirius aren't an item. They're something, but Sirius isn't breaking any rules by snogging pretty girls under dimmed party lights. It might be nice if he didn't do it in front of Remus, but it also might be nice if he hadn't tried to make Remus a murderer two years ago. There's a lot of ways they could be nicer to each other. In perspective, the kissing doesn't seem that bad.

Remus could do the same, and might, if he trusted himself around anyone other than Sirius. (If there were girls as pretty as Sirius).

Remus doesn't trust himself with people other than Sirius, though. He's bookish and boring and plain and sometimes he daydreams about ripping his classmates apart. He's tall and pleasant and polite, and he's forever five years old, a rag doll in a wolf's jaws in a field in Ireland, changed and scarred. Sirius gets it, even if he can be a prick. He pushes buttons. He lights up the room. He gets under Remus's skin and makes him feel sane at the same time. He's one of the few people Remus trusts himself and the wolf around, even if he doesn't really trust Sirius anymore. Sirius fucked that right up for the both of them. It's confusing, but Remus is smart. He'll figure his way around it.

He devours books instead, pages and scrolls and tomes. He tries to be boring. He tries to be plain. He tries to be someone people like but mostly forget, the nice Irish lad tagging along with loud James and cocky Sirius and sweet Peter. He worries sometimes that he's doing it too well.

He tries not to think of Margot's hands on Sirius's waist, but he falls asleep to fevered images of them just the same.

***

Remus half-wakes to the <i>swish</i> of curtains flinging open. There's a low giggle and then the thump of platform boots hitting the floor.

"Moony." The bed dips. "Moooonyyy."

Remus is half asleep, surfacing from dreams he's already forgetting. He snuffles into his pillow, as if he can bury himself like a mole and back into sleep.

He's almost back asleep when he feels arms wrapping around his chest, Sirius spooning up behind him. He smells like alcohol, the remnants of cologne and clean sweat. He smells like someone else too; Remus shuts that thought down as quickly as he can, but it's too late. That little wolfy part of him that doesn't vanish with the full moon is always attuned to these things, pricking up its ears and growling low and threatening. Remus feels it in his belly. He's wide awake now.

"Sirius," he whispers, low and annoyed. He swallows. "You know this isn't your bed, yeah?" he grumbles.

Sirius laughs. He's drunk, loose and pliant. Remus doesn't know if that means he fucked her. He could tell, if he tried, if he let the wolf sniff her out. He's not going to do that though. He's got to have some self respect.

Sirius snake arms squeeze around him tighter. His knees are tucked up behind Remus's. "I couldn't find you," he slurs. "And then James said you were sad." Sirius exhales on a half yawn.

Remus waits, but Sirius doesn't say more, as if this is enough of an explanation as to why he's crawled into Remus's bed and wrapped around him like a vine.

Honestly, it is. Sirius can be complex, and sometimes he can be impressively simple.

And if Remus keeps his eyes shut, and doesn't look at the time on his watch, then he can pretend it's only been half an hour since he left the party―that Sirius noticed quickly and didn't stay on for hours, 'til dawn was approaching and the morning birds were chirping, didn't finger Margot behind a statue and kiss her neck until he left marks and then saunter back to his other mates, proud and loose-limbed and swigging whiskey before working up a sweat on the makeshift dance floor. That he didn't ask James as an afterthought once he'd had his fun, <i>hey, where did Mooney bugger off to?</i> That he didn't come and hop into Remus's bed as a way to end his night instead of the purpose of it.

It's a night thought. It's horse shit, and Remus knows it, but if he never sees the time then it will never be confirmed. If a tree falls in a forest and no one is there to hear it, if your best mate is a careless prick but you weren't there to see it, then did it really happen?

Behind him, Sirius's breath gusts over the back of his neck, and then again. The rhythm of sleep. His chest rises and falls easily, pressed all up against Remus's back, hips flush against Remus's pyjama-clad thighs. Remus keeps his own breathing shallow, tries not to breathe him in. It makes his head spin a little, not quite enough oxygen getting into his lungs. He's wide awake, and so is the wolf, the scar on his shoulder prickling like pins and needles and his senses tingling too.

His pillow is going to smell like Sirius for days now after this, longer if he hides the case from the elves and doesn't let them wash it. He'll want to roll in it, smell like Sirius, rub his face over the plain cotton and mouth at it until his breath dampens the pillow and Remus can taste it on his tongue. He might let himself do it. He'll hate himself afterwards, but he might let himself all the same.

He blinks, his vision swimming a little from his half-held breath before he gasps down a lungful, and there it is. Sirius all around him, thick in the air. He smells sweet, and sleepy, relaxed and content, and with a bitter pang Remus can smell her too. The wolf inside him can smell her. Remus braces for the comforting lurch of anger, of rage, for gnashing teeth and snarling lips, but it doesn't come.

There's a whine building in his chest instead, something sad and bereft, hurt. It feels like ears pulled back against his head, like a soft muzzle pressed against the cold ground. It sounds like a kicked dog, crawling on its belly back for more anyway.

Remus sniffs, blinking the sting away from his eyes and feeling his lashes come away wet. He curls a fist into his blanket, fingers tense and his breath shaky as he alternates between short sharp breaths and letting himself breath Sirius in, his chest tight from more than Sirius's boa constrictor arms. His eyes droop eventually, his face sore from frowning, but sleep hovers in his periphery like the moon slipping out of view over a highway.

Remus is too smart to fall for Sirius. The wolf isn't.

***

[etherrealoblivion]

A Joint Effort

Prompt: I just thought of this for some reason, but imagine everyone in the bau all high as fuck, in one room together.

Words: 1,905

A/N: for the bad b*tches in my MGG group chat. Love y’all.

Content Warning!!!!: Drugs (weed)

MASTERLIST

~

It had started out a regular Friday evening. Well, as regular as a Friday evening could be for the sorry few that worked in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.

After a particularly draining case, the team decided a night out would be the best way to unwind. More precisely, Morgan decided and convinced the others with much help from Garcia.

So that’s how a mother, a genius, a spy, a hacker, a playboy, a boss, and a millionaire all ended up stumbling home, drunk off their asses down the empty streets of D.C.

Sadly, J.J, who had been the designated driver, didn’t get the memo until after her fourth drink. Garcia, the messenger, was a little late on delivering it. By then, everyone else was already wasted so Hotch figured it was time to go home. Or, actually, to crash at Rossi’s place. He was nearby and had enough bedrooms for everyone to rest peacefully, although the team had a slight notion that the party wasn’t quite over.

This thought was confirmed quite quickly for as everyone plopped down amongst the plethora of cozy chairs in Rossi’s living room, Morgan found the millionaires liquor cabinet, shamelessly helping himself to the array of drinks there.

However, before he could indulge too far, a small wooden box caught his eye as he was about to select a fifty-year scotch.

Alcohol didn’t seem to affect his profiling skills as he deduced what was in the box as if there was a note written on it.

Smirking, Morgan wondered whether or not his team members would. Rossi would, for sure. Garcia, definitely probably. Hotch? Reid? Hmm.

“Hey, Rossi,” Morgan said, putting on a voice of drunken interest, “what’s this box, here?”

Rossi’s head snapped to where he was standing, confirming his suspicions. Before he could speak, Reid piped up, stammering slightly.

“That’s an 1870’s oakwood Captain James box. Collectors quality. Only four hundred were made.”

“Isn’t that a lot?” Garcia asked, taking off her heels.

“Yes, for the era. But three hundred and seventeen were lost to the ocean on the shipwreck of the Casterberous. Interestingly enough--”

“Actually,” Morgan butted in, slowly opening the box and smiling as he saw what was in it, “What I was more interested in was what was in the box.”

Rossi, always composed, shrugged and stood walking towards morgan.

“What can I say? In our line of work, one tends to need to . . . destress every now and again.”

Hotch snorted, finally realizing what the mystery box contained. Dave had told him of his habit, but Hotch never really given it much thought. Everyone had their vices.

“What’s in it?” Prentiss said, trying to steal a glimpse.

“Wait . . .” Garcia paused for a moment, shot Morgan a look to which he smirked knowingly, then burst into laughter, clutching her sides and rolling back on the couch.

J.J looked from Garcia to Rossi, the latter standing with his hands in his pockets, looking sheepish. She quickly put two and two together.

“Oh my god!”

“What?” Reid was still confused. “What, what is it? What have I missed?”

Morgan raised his eyebrows at Rossi questioningly to which the older man nodded softly. So Morgan placed the box, lid open, on the coffee table. So that everyone could see the set of pre-rolled cigarettes laying on purple satin within.

Prentiss smiled.

“Well, well, well. David Rossi, do my eyes deceive me, or is that Acapulco gold?”

Everyone but Reid laughed, who was looking at the cigarette curiously.

“I don’t understand. Cigarettes? Prentiss used to smoke, I don’t see the big deal.”

J.J. pat his head.

“You’ll learn, Spence. You’ll learn. May I?” she directed the last part to Rossi, gesturing toward the box.

He waved a hand.

“Be my guest. As long as no one is uncomfortable?” he phrased it as a question.

Murmurs of assent filled the room, everyone but Reid and Hotch reaching for one of the neatly rolled cigarettes in the box and Rossi going to fetch his lighter and put on a quiet record for background noise.

“J.J? You don’t smoke tobacco?”

Morgan laughed. Pretty boy was a genius at most things. This not being one of them.

“Spence,” J.J. took the lighter from Rossi and lit her cigarette, a pungent smell quickly filling the room, “it’s not tobacco.”

A look of comprehension finally found its way onto Reid’s face, causing everyone looking at him to shake with laughter.

“Oh.”

Morgan slapped him on the back, handing him a lit joint. “‘Oh’ is right. Now listen, no peer pressure, Pretty Boy. You get uncomfortable, stand up, and go to bed, no judgment. But, if you wanna chill out for a while, get that genius mind to calm down, take a puff of this.” And Morgan brought his joint to his lips, steadily taking a drag and blowing it out with practiced expertise.

A moment of hesitation was all Spencer needed, quickly reassured by the ease with which his friends and colleagues began to smoke. Then, he brought the joint to his mouth and took a deep breath.

As expected, he coughed immediately, a horrible hacking noise as blue-ish smoke expelled from his mouth and nose.

His friends started to giggle, already feeling the high hit them.

Hotch finally decided to join in after a few minutes of watching everyone enjoy themselves. Reid recovered surprisingly quickly, barely coughing the second and third times and not at all by the fourth.

It suddenly occurred to everyone that they’d all been silent the whole time. Garcia, of course, was the first to rectify this.

“Okay, when was the last time everybody got high? Go.” She pointed to her left where J.J sat sprawled out against her.

“Um. Oh god. Three months before I found out I was pregnant with Henry. Although I’m not sure you’d count that as ‘high’. It was one hit from a bong at this party I went to.”

“A party?!” Prentiss said, surprised. “When? Where?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes!” everyone exclaimed.

“Okay! Jeez. It was when we had that weekend off after the Garner case. I went down to New Orleans to see Will and . . . one thing led to another.”

“Is that why you kept texting me asking for pictures of my cat?” Garcia giggled, absentmindedly petting J.J’s hair.

“Yeah. . . I wanted to make sure it wasn’t a robot. Don’t ask.”

After a bit of laughter, everyone recovered and it was Hotch’s turn next.

“Four years ago. After the Nieman case in Tampa. Haley was the one who suggested it. It did help me relax, but the taste is something I couldn’t stand.”

Everyone nodded slightly, accepting this answer as valid.

Rossi shrugged, gesturing to the now empty box. Clearly he had smoked recently, probably within the month so the question passed to Morgan.

“I’m gonna be honest. I . . . partake whenever we have free time.”

“So. . . ?” J.J asked.

Morgan sighed.

“Last weekend.”

Wow. Garcia started to laugh which caused a domino effect on the rest of the team. Reid was finally relaxing into the feeling, laughing along with his friends.

“Y’all think that’s real funny, huh?” Morgan said, unable to stop the smile forming on his face.

“Yep,” Reid said through another puff, suppressing a cough. “Only because it makes so much sense.”

“Oh yeah?” Morgan got a mischievous look in his eye. “Okay, Prentiss. Your turn.”

Emily, who had been laughing heartily, suddenly froze, looking nervously around the room.

“I, er, I don’t recall.”

Morgan chuckled.

“Well then, allow me to refresh your memory. Last weekend I’m minding my own business when I get a call from Emily here. She’s going off about how expensive movie tickets are and how it’s cheaper to buy back-alley weed. I tell her not to worry, I’ve got my hands on the good stuff right here. Needless to say, within the hour we were both high off our asses.”

Prentiss had turned bright pink, taking a sip from a water bottle she’d withdrawn from her purse. Looking back, she should have known better than to hide her face from a group of seasoned profilers.

“Oh, damn, Emily!” Garcia bounced on the couch, shaking J.J who groaned. “Why didn’t you tell me! You know I am always one phone call and thirty-five minutes away.”

Emily glanced at Derek, smirking. “That’s the problem, Pen. Sometimes you can be a little . . . much.”

Garcia gasped softly, “Emilia, you offend me. I’m offended. I’m chill! I’m a chill person,” she added, a little shrilly, sending the group into yet another fit of laughter.

“What? Look at me now! I’m relaxing on the couch, totally at peace.”

In her defense, she was. Absentmindedly braiding J.J’s hair and working out the knots in it. One sharp pull made J.J wince.

“Ow! Yeah, ‘at peace’ my ass.”    

“Shush! Reid, go.”

Spencer opened his mouth but Morgan spoke first.

“Aw, come on, Baby Girl. You saw how Pretty Boy here coughed. He hasn’t touched a drug in his life.”

“I-”

“Oh, come on. People don’t only cough when they’ve never smoked before. Besides, he went to Caltech AND got a doctorate at MIT. Those Ivy Leagues have the most toked up students anyway.”

“Well, I-”

“Nah,” Morgan interrupted. “Pretty Boy’s been sober his whole life.”

“Actually . . .”

Morgan’s head snapped to Reid, as quick as he could under the influence. Which, in retrospect was not all that quick.

“Kid. You’re telling me you’ve done this before?”

Reid went even pinker than Emily had.

“Not, uh. Not exactly. I’ve certainly never smoked a joint with anyone. But, well. That wasn’t the question.”

“What was the question?” Garcia asked.

“You’re the one who asked it!”

She simply shrugged, reapplying her lipstick smoothly. The high was slowly wearing off everyone.

“You asked when the last time everyone got high was,” Reid explained, his hands gesticulating wildly. “While I have never smoked - really no one should, the things it does to your lungs - I have ingested marijuana before.”

“What!?” Morgan and Garcia exclaimed, prompting an even louder Shh from Rossi. Hotch was smirking softly, lighting several candelabras around the room, attempting to clear the air of the stench.

“What?” Reid asked, annoyed at their shock. “I might be nerdy but I’m not a prude.”

Prentiss laughed and remarked to J.J, “Next thing he’s gonna be telling us he’s not a virgin.”

“Actual-”

“Stop, right there, kid,” Morgan butted in, settling down on the couch for the night. “That’s not the kinda thing I wanna hear about right now.”

“But you were curious about me getting high before!”

“Yeah, that’s your business.”

Prentiss butted in, “Besides, we should just focus on the now. It seems while we’ve all partook before, but never together like this. This time it’s a… a…”

“A joint effort,” Reid said, glancing around the room with a playful smile.

A collective groan followed his quip and several pillows were thrown his way.

“You’re lucky I’m barely stoned,” Garcia said. “I’d come over there and give you a proper pillow fight.”

Rossi leaned forward over the old box.

“Ladies, gents,” he lifted the purple satin lining revealing several more pre-rolled marijuana cigarettes, “the night is still young.”

And so, the FBI profilers hotboxed David Rossi’s living room, laughing about nonsense and learning much more than they’d wanted to about Spencer Reid’s sexual history

[words-for-holland]

Happier (5) | T.H.

Summary: Harry and Harrison made it to New York without witnesses. One secret is revealed and a relationship could be broken up for good. What will the future hold for Y/N and Tom?

A/N: Everybody buckle up and grab your tissues, we’re in for a bumpy ride. Lemme know how you feel after this! Was it what you expected??

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Guilt

It’s one thing to keep a secrets, but it’s another thing when you’re hiding it from the people you love. For Kate, she was becoming consumed in her own guilt as each day passed. Everyday her breaths would shorten, her heartbeat quicken, and her conscience relentlessy invading her inner thoughts. Kate tried to find all the possibilities to avoid the truth, and make everyone happy...but it didnt matter. One way or another, someone was going to get hurt.

Kate stood in front of Harrison and Harry at her doorstep. While she was relieved and excited to see them, a slight tinge of fear was present. “How are you going to find out the truth?” She asks calmly as Harrison and Harry made their way into the apartment. Kate picked up her phone, checking for an message. None showed up.

“Well, we might have found something. A clue maybe, but we’re not sure.” Harry explained as he picked up his macbook, turning it on.

“Is Y/N here?” Harrison asked, and as if on cue she appeared, heavy bags under her eyes.

The moment Y/N laid eyes on the two, she couldn’t believe it. Her hands quickly rubbing the sleep from her eyes, almost convinced it was a dream. “What? Harry? Harrison? What are you guys doing here?” Y/N excitedly asks. She made her way towards the boys giving them a long awaited hug. “I missed you guys.” She whispers.

“We want to help you.” Harrison says as he pulled away. “The unknown number? We might have an idea.”

Y/N looked at them suspiciously, checking her phone for cryptic messages. “Does anyone know you’re here?”

They both shook their head. “We didn’t tell anyone back home. As far as anyone knows, Harrison and I are going on a 3 day hike with little reception.” Harry reassured her with his boyish smile. Y/N look at him with admiration. He may not look like his brother, but his tone had Tom written all over it.

“Great. Just make sure your location is off on your phones..they could be watching us.” Kate warned as she checked her phone again.

Harrison looked at Kate with sympathy. In the years he’s known her because of Y/N and Tom’s relationship, she always seemed to be the sweetest most loyal friend out there. He was happy that Y/N had someone like Kate in her life. Not to mention it was also a plus that she was fairly pretty, even with the worry written all over face, she was still beautiful to Harrison.

“Hey.” Harrison spoke out for Kate’s attention. “We’re gonna figure this out. I promise.” While Kate nodded, she silently knew that this was not going to end well.”

“Wait...so Tom? Is he—?” Y/N asks the boys with anticipation.

Harrison knowing, exactly what Y/N was asking before she could even finished answered swiftly. “No! Of course not!” He laughs as if it was the silliest thing to answer. “Y/N, Tom loves you. He still does.”

“But the pictures..”

“Was a PR stunt set by Natalie’s publicists.” Harrison finished. “He’s doing a project that Natalie somehow got involved in, and they wanted a PR relationship to sell it. He didn’t want to at first, but then they showed him pictures of you and some div.”

“Hey he’s not some div! Matt’s a good guy.” Y/N defends. “Sweet actually, but I turned him down at the end of it. We’re just friends.”

Then it clicked. “Wait. You said that Tom saw the pictures?” Y/N asked trying to piece it together. “How did he get pictures?”

Harry and Harrison took a moment to think it through. “Well...Natalie’s publicist showed it to Tom.” Harry answered.

“But we don’t know where she got the pictures from.” Harrison added. “My money was on Natalie...still is.”

“Cmon mate. There’s no way she could have gotten pictures in New York and suddenly fly back to London.”

Kate slowly made her way to her own room, no longer wanting to be part of the conversation. They were getting too suspicious, and the more they questioned, the more nervous she got.

“Well maybe the unknown number sent it.” Harry said as he continued to be deep in his thoughts. “Or they found out on that fan account you found Harrison.”

“Wait? Fan account? They know?!” Y/N freaked out. Three years into making sure she was kept in the shadows, and it went all down the drain. If it there were fan accounts then it would only make it harder to finding out who really did sabotage her relationship. Let alone everyone’s lives.

“We don’t know yet, but Harrison found a fan account that was posting about Tom and you. Not together at least, but seperately. The weird part is...barely few people follow it, so we’re not sure what it means.” Harry explained, as he tried to pull up the account. “Oh no.”

“What? What do you mean ‘Oh no’?” Harrison panicked.

“I cant find the account.” Harrison said as he tried to pull it up, but the page disappeared.

In the nick of time, a message was sent to all three of them.

Unknown

Looks like you’re back to square 1 ❤️

“Shit! How did they know?” Harrison questioned in anger. “We were this close!”

“It’s okay Harrison. I appreciate that you guys tried, but it’s a lost cause.” Y/N consoled him, rubbing his shoulder.

“It won’t be. We’ll find another way.” Harry encouraged as he hugged them both. “By the way, where’s Kate gone?”

All three looked up to notice she was missing. Y/N waved it off, assuming it was just one of those days. “She probably went to bed early. Kate gets tired easily, nowadays. It might be because of her new job on top of watching out for me. Its a lot to take on for a person.”

The reasoning seemed valid enough Harrison and Harry. Plus it was Kate they were talking about, she always had Y/N’s back from day one, she wouldnt blackmail any of them or ruin Y/N and Tom’s relationship..right?

Late in the night, Harrison had trouble sleeping because of the jetlag. Since it only was a medicore 2 bedroom apartment, Harrison and Harry slept in the living room on the sofa bed. Luckily it was big enough for the both them and they didnt have to resort to cuddling. Harrison lied on his back as he looked out to the NYC view, thinking about everything and nothing at all. He smiled, thinking about it all. For a very serious couple, a lot of shit has gone down and yet here he was with trying to save it. He cared about the two so deeply, they were his family and family never turns their back on the other.

Then he heard something, whispers coming from the hall. Harrison didn’t dare to make a move but he trained his ears to listen carefully at the voice.

“Im telling you they are getting suspicious.” The voice whispered into the phone. It sounded like Kate’s and Harrison continued to listen in.

“No.No. I sent the damn pictures to you for a reason. No one told me that they would come here. I wasn’t prepared for that.” Kate continues as she paces in the corner.

Pictures? Harrison was awake more than ever, as he quickly shook Harry, and told him to stay quiet. They continued to listen.

“Look I did everything I was told to do. She got what she wanted, now —” Kate stopped in her tracks as she saw Harry and Harrison in front of her. Immediately she dropped the call, her lips moving, unable to find the words.

“How could you?” Harry said his brown eyes glaring at at the girl who just betrayed her best friend. “She was your best friend! How could you?!” He spoke louder.

Kate tried her best to quiet them down, but there was the point. She knew this day would come. “You don’t understand.” Kate whispers, looking at the ground. “I was only doing this to protect Y/N.”

“Protect Y/N? Blackmailing her? Sending pictures of her and a guy to Tom, so he would turn against her? That’s protecting her?” Harrison questioned, hurt by her actions. If he was hurt, then surely It would hurt Y/N far worse.

Y/N comes out of her room as she sees the three gather together, glaring at each other. “Hey..w-what’s going in?” She asks nervously.

“Why don’t you tell her Kate?” Harry spits out as he gestures to Y/N. Kate looks into her best friend’s eyes tears welling up. Y/N had fear struck into her face, afraid of what she had to say.

“I’m so sorry.” She cries. “I didn’t have a choice. She would have ruined our friendship if I did.”

“Kate. What.Did.You.Do?” Y/N asks, emphasizing each word to the question.

Kate shook her head as she let out a deep sigh. “Im the reason your pictured with Matt got out Tom.”

Y/N shook her head, tears streaming. She didn’t want to believe it. “Please tell me you’re lying.”

“Im sorry Y/N. I swear I didnt mean for this to get out of hand. I was threatened that if I didn share them, then they would say something that could ruin our friendship..and...I didnt want that to happen.” Kate frantically explains, sobbing at her no good explanation.

Y/N shook her head, her face switching from sadness to anger. “Looks like you didn’t need them to ruin it at all for you. Now you’re gonna tell me what you know and then Im packing my stuff and Im moving out.”

Kate sobbed as she try to plead to her ex-bestfriend to stay. “Look I’ll tell you everything okay, but it’s not much.” She takes a deep breath before she continues. “I was the one that started the rumors and created the fan account Harry and Harrison saw.”

“Why?” Y/N asks, her disappointed face unchanging.

“I was jealous of you at the time. Y/N you had everything I could have ever wanted in my life. A job, a boyfriend that doesn’t leave you, a family that loves you, and the fame which you didn’t even want to accept with open arms. You were always a step ahead of me at something and I was tired of it. So when you told me you felt uneasy about Natalie when she first moved in, I sold that info online and twisted the story so that it looked like Tom liked Natalie and they were a potential couple.”

“Oh my god.” Harrison said as he let his head down. “You made Natalie think that Tom was in love with her secretly thats why she had become so persistant.”

Kate slowly nodded as she took another breath. “As for the fan accounts I can’t tell you much because I was just asked to create them by the Unknown number.”

“Wait so you’re not the unknown number?” Harry asked confused.

Kate shook her head. “I don’t who it is. Im just a vicitim as much as you guys are.”

“No cut that bullshit. It’s because of you that all of our lives are a mess. It’s because of you that I had to lose the most important thing in my life. So don’t say you’re a fucking victim when all you really did was try to save your own ass.” Y/N yelled.

“You didn’t have to if you were so confident in your relationship with Tom.” She spat back.

“I love Tom with all my heart, but I was referring my best friend. I never want to see you again.” Y/N states, emotionless. No one had ever seen Y/N like this. In fact no one had ever seen her mad as she was on this very day. The day she lost her best friend.

Y/N went to her room to quickly gather her belongings, stuffing them back in the bag. Her phone was ringing and she didnt hesitate to pick it up.

“Tom...” she answers, holding back her sobs.

Taglist:

@hollanddolanfangirl​ @ifilosemyselfagain @hevjadams @averyfosterthoughts​ @fangirl-with-a-mission @drishtisikarwar @eridanuswave​ @ifntelyinspirit​ @trumpettay @astridcommings @parkershoco @racewife2004 @sleepybesson

[smallheathgangsters]

Doomed | Part Three

Masterpost

A/N: Please forgive me! This took forever and I don’t even know if I really like the way it turned out ): But nevertheless, I’m excited about continuing this series and I wanted to say thank you for all your support!

Tag List: @imgrullas @beautycinders @maggiescarborough @lovemissyhoneybee @ellaestloved @swweett-insanityyy @peaky-fookin-blinders-addict @writeroutoftime @namelesslosers @elisabethisdead @amirahiddleston @sinfulshelbys @yoheyyosup @asianbuttcheek  @curlyhairedblueeyedangel @wnygirl2012 @multi-fandom-iimagines

Pairing: Bonnie Gold x Shelby!Sister Reader

Word Count: 2812

Type: fluff, swearing

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was hard ignoring the happenings surrounding your family. You heard about Mrs. Ross, the mother of the boy Arthur had beaten to death as a result of an absentminded episode, visiting Tommy in his office. She’d apparently invited your eldest brother over to her place. She tried to cover it up as an act of peace-making, not exactly forgiveness, but a thank-you to the Shelby family for helping her and her children get by. It would’ve been her son’s twenty-first birthday. But Tommy knew it was all a setup, immediately suspecting the Changrettas being involved. There had been no sign of willingness to work towards truce in her eyes. They were still covered in anger and hatred and utter, utter disgust towards your family. Especially towards Arthur.

You’d always disliked thinking back to that day. As much as you loved your broken brother, you knew that there had always been something truly wrong with him. Showing clearly, almost too clearly, that he did not have control over his thoughts, his actions. Himself. Even though you did not blame him for what had happened, you still never understood what made everybody brush it off, as if it were nothing. Arthur had serious issues, but none of which were dared to be spoken about in the Shelby household.

You caught up on bits and pieces of Tommy’s plan after accepting Mrs. Ross’s offer and letting her know, that Arthur would be there at said date and time. How they would place themselves all around Artillery Square, covering every corner with men holding guns. Including Finn.

Finn, who finally got involved the way he wanted to be involved. Or did he? It was hard for you to tell. You’d tried talking to him about the matter multiple times, but you realised, that he just wasn’t comfortable talking to a sister about that. A woman in general. And as much it hurt, you had to accept the fact that he didn’t want to open up about it to you. Hoping, he would at least let you know if he’d ever felt unhappy.

The betting shop was as busy as always. While your brothers, Charlie, Johnny Dogs and Isaiah were backing up Arthur on his suspicious visit at Mrs. Ross’s, you, Lizzie and Polly were occupied with bets and even more bets coming in. Business was running smoothly. The way it should.

It was difficult for you to concentrate on working and worrying about what was going down at Artillery Square at the same time. If Tommy had been right about his guess. If his plan works out. If it perhaps meant the end to this horrible vendetta? The end to all of this? The end of having to stay with your family? Making it possible for you to finally distance yourself from the business and the negativity? But you knew, it sounded too good. Too good to be true. There wasn’t a chance this mess would be over so fast.

The hours went by painfully slow. You caught yourself watching the pendulum of the clock one too many times. Back and forth. And from time to time, Polly sent you a strict glance, pulling you out of your thoughts and into work again.

While you were writing down some numbers into the book on your desk in front of you, you suddenly heard the front door burst open. It slammed against the wall and Tommy’s figure appeared in the shop. Your head shot up from the ink-covered pages, eyeing your brother closely. Something was off. He seemed upset, stressed.

“Oi! Get out,” Tommy ordered, sending the worker out of the office within the cell bars. The man promptly obeyed, removing himself. You watched Tommy go around the table and sit down on the chair, grabbing the telephone. The receiver quickly made its way to Tommy’s ear and his lips mouthed the address of the recipient of his call.

Your eyes scanned the betting shop. Polly seemed busy on the phone and Lizzie was nowhere to be seen. So, you decided to move a little closer to Tommy’s conversation. You could sense that something had gone wrong. At least not as planned. And you were worried for Finn. Like always. You were always worried for your little brother.

“Charlie. Listen, Bonnie Gold will be calling you in four minutes. Tell him the Italians are on the road south.”

Your breath hitched in your throat when you heard Bonnie’s name. That meant the Golds had to be involved again. What was going on? Was Arthur okay? Did the Italians perhaps outsmart Tommy?

As much as the situation concerned you, you had to internally chuckle at the thought of Tommy being outsmarted. That must hurt your proud, self-convinced brother. A lot. The one that thought so highly of himself, so sure of every plan he placed out in his head.

“A Rolls-Royce, maybe two. Black. Tell him to expect a full complement of men. We inflicted no casualties.”

A pause. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut in apparent annoyance by something Charlie said. “I said we inflicted no fucking casualties.”

And with that, he hung up, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Then he let out a deep sigh.

Before you had the chance to sneak back to your workplace, Tommy had already opened his eyelids again and you could feel his cold stare on you.

“Is there something you want to ask me, Y/N?”

You sighed, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “Are Arthur and Finn alright?”

Tommy gave the bridge of his nose a short massage before answering your question. “They’re both fine.”

You gritted your teeth, already regretting the next question you were about to ask. You knew you were treading onto dangerous territory with Tommy currently being so tense, but you couldn’t hold back the words rolling off your tongue. “What the fuck happened, Tom?”

“Since when do you–“

“Can we please skip that?” you hissed, cutting him off impolitely. “I’ll be gone after all of this is over, but until then, I want to know what’s going on.”

You heard Tommy gulp audibly. “Arthur was never the target.”

“So, who was?” you frowned, your bottom lip slipping in between your teeth, encouraging your bad habit of nervous lip-chewing.

“Michael.”

Your eyes went wide and your teeth let go of your lip, letting your mouth fall agape. “I– Is he okay?”

“Yeah, but now we’re trying to get ahead of them.”

“Is that why you called the Golds for help?”

He nodded. “We’re trying to get a hold of them before they get away.”

You felt your chest relax. Knowing that everybody was safe and alive made your worries vanish. But there was still a hint of discomfort settled in the pit of your stomach. And you knew exactly who to blame this feeling of discomfort on. Bonnie. That pretty, polite, flirty Gold boy. With his stupid dark curls and his stupid gorgeous eyes. You let out a groan, convinced about it being silent enough to be overheard.

Of course, Tommy caught up on it. “Nothing��s going to happen to him, stop being concerned.”

“Hm?” you hummed, confused about what your brother tried to say to you.

“Bonnie. Nothing’s going to happen to the kid.”

You let out a huff. “It’s going to take a lot for me to just trust your words like that again, Tommy.”

Tommy moistened his lips by darting out his tongue for a quick second. His eyes were drilling holes into your skin, but you didn’t let him intimidate you. You were his little sister, family, not his enemy and his tries to frighten you with his manner made you lose your respect for him more and more. He didn’t own you. He didn’t control your thoughts. And unfortunate for him, they were very different to his own. And because you all needed to work together, being in the middle of this vendetta, he had to learn to accept you. Stubbornness, independence and all that came with it.

“I’d like to see Bonnie when the job is finished. Just to make sure you held your word.”

“You’re being–“

“Reasonable. I’m being reasonable, Tom. And if you’re not letting me see him, you’re once again taking a step further away from me having faith in you.”

Tommy closed his mouth shut, sending you another stiff nod. Then, he fished out his cigarette case, revealing a smoke. He placed it between his lips and lit the end with a match. “In that case, I’ll see you later Y/N.”

You nodded at your brother and watched him leave the betting shop in a hurry, face stern, cigarette in hand.

It was late when Tommy came back to the betting shop to pick you up. You had refused to go home with Polly after work was finished for the day, wanting and needing some time alone. It had been incredibly noisy in the shop that day and you craved some peace and quiet, knowing very well that you wouldn’t be getting that if you joined Polly.

Tommy made you follow him to Charlie’s yard, but insisted you’d wait outside in front of the stables until after his conversation with Aberama. “Nothing that should be any of your concern.”

He’d slipped into the barn fast enough to escape another one of your snarky, but very much valid comments about you having the right to know what was going on with the Italians. You let out a groan and leaned against a wooden pillar, listening to the water ripple against the boats down in the canal.

It didn’t take long until Tommy returned. “He’s all yours.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment. “Your facial expression doesn’t look as if Luca Changretta was taken down.”

“That’s nothing for you to worry about, Y/N. I’ve got everything under control,” he answered, taking a deep drag from his almost burnt-out cigarette.

“I never said anything about being worried,” you stated, pushing yourself away from the pillar. Tommy sighed at your remark, threw the rest of his smoke on the ground and stepped on it with the tip of his shoe. “What do you hope to gain from getting close to Bonnie?”

“I’m not hoping for anything, Tommy.”

He chuckled sarcastically. “He’s not the hero you’re searching for. You know nobody’s going to look out more and better for you than your own family.”

You gave your brother an annoyed glance. “Why are you constantly up in my business?”

“I could ask you the same.”

You let out another angry groan. “Fine. If I stop asking you questions about Luca Changretta, will you quit having an opinion about my relationship with Bonnie?”

He just shrugged. “We’ll see about that.”

And then, he turned around and took off. With each step, the gravel crunched loudly beneath his soles. Your eyes followed him while sucking in the air through your gritted teeth, trying to calm yourself down. Tommy really had a talent of pushing your buttons.

“Y/N?”

Your felt your heart skip a beat and reflexively raised your hand to your chest. “God!”

“Sorry,” Bonnie grinned, “didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You can’t just sneak up on me like that!”

You gave him a gentle, playful push, which made his grin turn into a laugh. “You want to fight me?”

He swiftly grabbed both your wrists, restraining you. You desperately tried to twist them out of his grip, but you already knew it was impossible. Eventually, you let out a defeated giggle. “Okay, okay. I give up.”

He winked down at you, letting your arms go. “So, tell me. What brings you out here this late?”

You sent him a smile and nervously pushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Wanted to make sure you were okay. And alive.”

He chuckled and pushed his hands into his pockets. “Why shouldn’t I be alive?”

“I knew about Tommy sending your men after the Italians,” you told him. “Because as clever as my brother thinks he is, he didn’t realise who Changretta’s real target was.”

Bonnie noticed the poisonous tone in your voice and took one of his hands out of his pockets, placing it on your shoulder. “Do you think you and your brother will ever get along in a way that’s healthy for both of you?”

You let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know …”

“I would love to see your relationship improve after all of this is over,” he said, giving you a warm smile. His pretty hazel eyes had a little sparkle in them, making you hold your breath for a split second.

“I’m confident it’ll get better,” he assured, the confidence in his voice almost convincing you. Then, he let your shoulder go and his hand returned to the pocket.

“Did you kill somebody today?”

Your question seemed to have surprised Bonnie. “Would it be a problem if I have?”

You shook your head. “No, not at all. I’m just curious.”

“We shot two men.”

We. He avoided your question. But you accepted his answer. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Even if it’s not the end yet.”

“And if you continue being so concerned for my safety, I’m sure nothing will ever happen to me,” he chuckled. You felt your cheeks heat up as a reaction to his teasing comment.

“I’m just being nice,” you tried defending yourself, a nervous giggle escaping your throat.

“And I’m just trying to flirt,” Bonnie admitted, tilting his head slightly, “Once again.”

Bonnie was a man who gave off the impression of being very innocent, but every now and then he let something slip out of his mouth proving the complete opposite. And that was exactly what made him so interesting.

You must have been silent for a moment, caught in your thoughts, because suddenly Bonnie’s worried voice sounded in your ears. “I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No!” you exclaimed quickly. “No, not at all. Please don’t think that!”

“Oh, good,” Bonnie sighed relieved. “Would not have been the first time that my weak flirting skills scared a girl off.”

“Shut up,” you laughed. “How could somebody not like you?”

“Girls with a better taste in men perhaps?”

“Are you telling me my taste in men is bad?”

“Are you telling me you like me?”

You tried to think of a witty reply, but your mouth just stayed open without any words coming out. And you were positive that you looked ridiculous.

Bonnie took a small step forwards, towering over you. “You look adorable with your jaw dropped like that.”

Your teeth made an audible clicking sound when you shut your mouth promptly in reaction to his confession. Your eyes scanned his beautiful features, completely in awe by his sudden boldness.

You knew it was stupid. Stupid to let your heart flutter at the sound of his voice, at the spark in his piercing orbs, at the scent he carried, reminding you of pleasant evenings around a bonfire. It was stupid of you constantly trying to be close to him. Finding reasons to cross his path. You were in a time of uncertainty and danger. Death was lurking behind every corner. Carelessness could lead to the passing of way more people than just yourself. And as much as you hated being unwillingly involved in Tommy’s business, all you wanted was your family to be safe. And alive.

But Bonnie was just so … captivating. The thought of having him around made your days pass quicker, easier. The frustrating conversations you had had with Tommy that day weren’t so frustrating anymore and the constant weight of John’s passing didn’t feel as heavy.

“C– Can I kiss you?”

The words slowly rolled over his lips. Almost a whisper. A hesitant question.

Your gaze fell onto his beautiful face. You noticed him lift his hand and place it on your cheek delicately. Reminding yourself that you’ve still not reacted to his question, you nodded, perhaps a little too eagerly. Which made him let out a sweet chuckle.

“Thank god,” he said, making you smile widely before leaning down and pressing his lips onto yours.

No matter how many times your mind tried to tell you how stupid this was, there was nothing that could hold you back. Hold you back from falling. Falling so hard and so deep. It felt as if he was giving you the air you needed to breathe. As if he was saving you from a wild current that would have pulled you under, drowned you, sooner or later.

Eventually, you would realise that your mind had been right all along. That listening to your heart was never a good idea.

But right then and there, your heart was stronger than your mind. Right then and there, everything was fine.

[sanderssides-springfling]

The Four Times Roman Fell in Love and the One Time Everybody Fell in Love With Him

Summary: Roman falls in love with another side four times in a row.

Relationship: Pre-relationship DLAMP

Characters: Logan Sanders, Roman Sanders, Patton Sanders, Janus Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Remus Sanders mention.

Warnings: Food

Ao3 link: Here

 Who the gift is for: @galacticguppy

 message:  I hope you like it :)

1.

The first time Roman fell in love was shortly after the new video. He was in the Imagination just wandering past the forest and various villages aimlessly. He knew the video was scripted and he agreed to everything in it, but what Janus said still stung. He really didn’t want to be evil. he wanted to be good, to be the hero, and he was scared that he wasn’t.

Roman had a secret spot in the Imagination, somewhere that he went when he wasn’t feeling up to being his most glittery self. It was a safe place, and no one knew where it was. Or so he thought. When he finally reached the top of the cliff that served as his safe space he was more than a little surprised to see Virgil there. Virgil had his back to Roman and was staring over the edge, at the ocean below. The sun was setting and it tossed it’s golden rays out, making Virgil glow. Virgil hear Roman approach and turned. “Hey Ro” He gave a small salute.

Roman stuttered out a hello and waved at Virgil, before regaining his composure, “Dark and Stormy Knight! It’s a surprise to see you here.”

“Yeah. Well. You seemed to be feeling shitty after the last video, so I figured you would come here” Virgil shrugged and patted the ground next to him.

“How did you know I would be here?” Roman asked miserably, letting the smile fall from his face a he joined Virgil.

“You always come here when you’re feeling sad,” Virgil smiled tentatively at Roman, “You are obviously feeling shitty right now. Do you wanna talk about it?”

Roman opened his mouth to snap a witty retort back at Virgil about how he was fine, but he faltered. He really did want to talk about it with someone. “I just don’t want to be evil,” He blurted, instantly covering his mouth afterwards.

“Oh” Virgil’s mouth formed an “o” of realization, “Oh Roman. You aren’t evil.” he leaned his head on Roman’s shoulder, “You’re Roman. The bestest, most courageous, most idiotic prince I know.”

Roman laughed slightly, “I’m not sure if that was a compliment or an insult”

“Compliment” Virgil grinned, “Definitely compliment” He punched Roman lightly, the setting sun making his pale skin glow. Roman blushed slightly and smiled along with Virgil, “Your my friend you dumbass Disney prince.”

Roman gestured grandly, “Well you are my friend as well, Emo nightmare”

Virgil snorted and went back to leaning on Roman, watching the sun set while Roman gazed at Virgil fondly. He was so lucky to have Virgil who was pretty and funny and surprisingly kind and snarky and amazing and intell- oh. oh. Oh fuck. Roman fell in love.

2.

The second time Roman fell in love was on a Monday. He was in his room, singing Disney songs as he swept around the room, cleaning and dusting when a kick sounded from his door. He paused, setting the rag he was using to clean down on his desk. He opened the door, to reveal Janus standing there, holding his hat in both of his hands. “can I talk to you?” He mumbled.

“Of course,” Roman led Janus inside, “What’s bothering you, Lying King?”

Janus perched on Roman’s bed, “Virgil said what I said stuck with you. The thing in the video. When I called you evil”

Roman’s face fell, “He did?”

Janus nodded, “I would just like to say. I’m sorry. I don’t think you are evil”

Roman smiled slightly, “Well, I don’t think your name is a stupid. I think it’s beautiful.”

A blush rose up to Janus’s cheeks, “Thank you Roman. I- I think you are talented and kind and definitely not a villain. I’m sorry that was ever written into the script.”

Roman grinned at Janus, “Not your fault. Come here.” He opened his arms and Janus carefully wedged himself in between them for a hug. Roman ruffled Janus’s hair pressing his forehead against the top of Janus’s head, “You still are my bestest friend Jam-snake”

Janus smiled back tentatively, “Well. Fuck what Thomas says. I will always think you are my hero.”

Roman felt his heart flutter. Janus was not allowed to be this pretty and sweet. He had told himself that he wouldn’t fall in love with another side beyond Virgil, but he guessed he had already fucked that up already.

3.

The third time Roman fell in love was in the kitchen. The whole video thing had passed, but it was soon enough that the other sides were still being careful with Roman, and trying to cheer him up. That was why Patton had roped him into baking cookies with him. Roman honestly didn’t see where it could go wrong, yeah he wasn’t the best baker in the world, but he wouldn’t light anything on fire. Probably.

Patton had already set out the ingredients for the cookies and had wrapped aprons around himself and Roman. “So,” Patton clapped his hands, “Lets get started. We are gonna make sugar cookies.” He pulled out his cookbook, flipping to the page with the cookies. He instructed Roman to get the necessary ingredients and Roman complied setting out flour, sugar, and eggs while Patton got the butter and milk.

While they work Patton talked. He just rambled about whatever was on his mind. To be honest Roman found it nice. He didn’t have to fill the silence for once in his life, plus Patton’s voice was beautiful. From there Roman’s thoughts wandered until there was a sharp snap in front of his face.

“Ro? Are you ok?” Patton asked.

Roman nodded, “Yeah. I just got a little distracted.”

Patton nodded, “That’s valid. Well. I just put the cookies in the oven, so now we have time to talk a little bit” Roman internally groaned, but sat down on the counter and Patton sat down next to him, “Are you doing ok Roman? I know you were a bit upset about the latest video”

Roman sighed, “Pat. It’s been a couple weeks. I’m ok now. I talked to V and Janny and we worked everything out”

“Ok” Patton replied uncertainly, “I just worry about you.”

“I’m fine Pat pat” Roman wrapped Patton in a hug, “I promise”

Patton hummed and hugged Roman back. Patton’s hugs were surprisingly warm and strong and Roman melted into Patton. He was content to remain in Patton’s arms forever, soaking up Patton’s warmth and sugary smell, but the timer for the cookies went off and Patton pulled away. Roman desperately wanted Patton to come back and hug him and oh fuck. He had fallen for Patton as well.

4.

The fourth time Roman feel in love, he was trying to avoid it. He was spending most of his time with Logan anymore, not wanting to be around of the others and encourage his hopeless crushes.

Roman was currently sitting on the floor of Logan’s room, talking about various Disney movies as Logan tried to point out the flaws in the logic. Roman had to agree with the other side sometimes, but most of the time he just denied Logan’s sound reasoning much to Logan’s amusement.

“You like Disney too much.” Logan fired at Roman, grinning.

“You don’t like it enough” Roman shot back, also smiling.

“The movies have too many plot inconsistencies.”

Roman shrugged, “they are still amazing movies.”

“That is true”

They both fell silent before Logan spoke up, “Hey Roman? Could you teach me Spanish?”

Roman nodded eagerly, “Course I can, Nerdy Wolverine. What do you want to know”

“How do you say, ‘to love’” Logan asked.

Roman’s rebellious heart started to beat faster, a blush rising to his cheeks. Nope he was not going to fall in love with Logan as well. He had already been crushing on Logan, and had been denial, but that question made it seem like he had some hope, “Querer” he replied. Well, too late. The hope had allowed his crush to worsen.

“Well,” Logan smirked, “Queries demasio Disney. You love Disney too much”

Roman felt his heart fall. Maybe he didn’t have a chance. He forced a laugh and almost started crying.

1.

Roman was standing right outside the living room, about to make his big announcement. He had been avoiding the others, trying not to fall into the pit of pain of obviously unrequited crushes, but soon it got to be too much. Remus was the only safe one to be around anymore. He loved his brother yes, but you could only handle so much of your sibling before you went crazy, so Roman decided he needed to tell the others about his situation.

Roman had gathered them all on the couch and was currently standing in front of them all. He clapped his hands and swallowed, gathering his courage before blurting, “hey I might have the biggest crushes on all of you.”

As he expected all their faces were surprised. He didn’t stick around to see the horror that was bound to come after it, and he fled up the stairs to his room. He sat there for a long time, sitting on his bed, rocking from side to side. They hated him now. They would never ant anything to do with him. they hated him. They hated him. They ha- His thoughts were cut off by a knock at the door, and he got up to open it, revealing the four other sides.

“Can we come in?” Patton asked softly.

Roman nodded, returning to his spot on the bed, and they all filed into his room. Patton sat next to Roman and without warning bear hugged Roman. Roman squeaked and melted into Patton’s arms. Soon after Virgil joined in, his hug much looser, but still feeling amazing. Patton smiled at Logan encouragingly, who also joined the hug, looping his long arms around all of them. Janus was last to join, the smaller side diving in to curl against Roman’s chest forming the perfect cuddle pile.

“So.” Virgil was the first one to talk, surprisingly, “Princey. We considered your offer, and we would love to date you. All of us.”

Roman stuttered in disbelief, “Really? Me?”

“Yes you.” Janus piped up, “We love you Roman.”

Patton and Logan nodded in agreement.

Roman flushed red, “Well. This is.. Is a lot to process.”

“We can wait if you want” Logan offered.

“Maybe just a bit.” Roman agreed, “But can we just stay here for a bit?” They all nodded, agreeing to stay in their big cuddle pile.

Actions

[padfootagain]

Girl Crush (XXIX)

Chapter 29: Grieving With Marigolds

 I AM SORRY FOR THIS!! YOU COMING TO SCREAM AT ME WOULD BE 100% VALID, I AM SORRY!

It will get better in a few chapters. For now, warning for angst and a severe need for tissues.

We're nearing the end, my friends… only a handful of chapters left!

Word Count: 3686

Harry had spent a week secluded in his house, and then he walked out and went back to the studio.

He was almost his normal self, and that was the most frightening part for his closest friends. He was generally open with his emotions and not so shy in showing them. So him just prancing back into the studio as if nothing had happened was only worrying. He didn't say a thing about it though.

On your hand, you were so busy with your shop that you barely had time to think about how sad you were. It was easy to spot the difference in your gaze though, the usually bright light that formed in the depth of your eyes had vanished since Harry and you had parted ways.

No one but Harry and you truly knew what had happened. The only piece of information that you had given away was that you had gotten into a fight and were not on speaking terms anymore. No one though knew about what had happened on the beach, nor about your conversation in his kitchen. You didn't need to agree on that, it was obvious for both of you that you would keep the details quiet.

Most people, in consequence, thought that the two of you would soon grow out of the whole drama and find back your status of inseparable best friends.

Most people, but not all of them.

Neither Mitch nor Jasmine were fools. But then, they were closest to both of you.

Which was why they found themselves around a cup of coffee, trying to figure out what could have happened. And Jasmine was almost certain to hold the right answer.

"Look, I'm sure something happened between them."

"What do you mean?" Mitch asked, drinking a sip of his black coffee. "Obviously something happened if they aren't talking to each other anymore."

"No, I mean… I think Harry might have told her."

"Told her what?"

"That he loves her."

Mitch stared at her, rising an eyebrow.

"You think so?"

They had never talked together about the fact that Harry had feelings for you, but they both knew the truth. For anyone who was a good friend of Harry's it was just the most obvious thing.

"Why else would they not talk at all. Besides, you haven't seen her. Y/N is really depressed, like… post-break-up depressed. She's throwing herself in her work again, and whenever I try to ask about Harry, she asks not to talk about him again. At all."

"Oh shit… But… no, he wouldn't do that. She's not single. And we all know Y/N, she wouldn't leave her boyfriend like that."

"I know! That's why I think that's exactly what happened."

"Well, then, I don't think we can help, can we?"

Jasmine heaved a sigh.

"Well… not for as long as Y/N remains her blind and stubborn self, no."

"You think she feels the same?"

"Don't you?"

He gave her a sad smile.

"Of course, I think she does. I also think she's being just as stupid as he is about it."

"Precisely. How is Harry holding on?" Jas asked, taking a sip of her tea.

"He's back at the studio. Didn't talk about what happened to anyone, which is worrying. I think he's just trying to act as if things were as normal."

"He's doing that bad, huh?" she asked with a sigh.

"Yeah… so… what do we do?"

"I mean, Y/N's my best friend, so I can't get on Harry's side."

"Same for me."

"And there is nothing we can really do to help. I reckon… they just have to get out of this mess by themselves."

"Agreed. I can't think of anything that would help. Except being there for them."

"So, let's just hold on for a while, see how they're doing, if they both come to their senses. Or well, mostly Y/N. We keep in touch though, okay?"

"Yeah, keep me updated."

Jasmine heaved a sigh, leaning back in her chair in the Starbucks where they had chosen to meet in secret.

"I swear, these two are gonna be the death of us…"

There were moments where Harry let his mask down for just a few seconds. Sometimes, when they were in the studio taking a break, and his eyes drifted towards the nearby window, losing focus over the conversation between his friends, his smile disappeared. It was the only sign he gave out that he wasn't perfectly fine though.

The songs he wrote these days seemed to be ridiculous, and if he kept on insisting that something was missing in his album, he didn't seem to be on the right path. And maybe that was a second sign, actually, that he wasn't well at all.

But then this piece on the piano was written, and he had grabbed his notebook and hadn't talked to anyone for twenty minutes. He was humming in a corner, and no one dared to interrupt him.

When he presented the lyrics, it was so different to everything he had written for the past week, that all in the studio just stared at him, while he pretended to be busy chipping off his black nail polish.

They discussed the song, and finished the writing, recorded the piano the same afternoon, and by the time the sun was setting Harry was ready to record his vocals.

He was unusually quiet as he waited for everything to be ready for him to begin singing. He was pinching his lower lip, a frown across his brow while he stared at the lyrics before him.

Falling

The title seemed so obvious as he wrote the lyrics…

The first recording was always rough, and he knew he would have to record it over and over again until they found the perfect version, but he wasn't sure he would have the strength to do it. Now that he was facing the microphone, with words splayed before him that he had to actually say out loud instead of hiding behind a pen, he wasn't sure to be strong enough for that.

He had been writing nonsense for a week, trying to write about anything but you. The result was that everything that came out of him was terrible. He wasn't an idiot, he was well aware that he hadn't written anything good during that time.

But today while everyone was playing random things, trying to find a new melody, this piece on the piano had hit him right in the face. It reminded him of you, for some strange reason.

This time, he didn't try to fight it, this urge to write about you. He even hoped that, maybe, writing about it would make his pain go away, for at least a little while.

So, for the first time since you had left, he wrote with absolute honesty, exactly how he felt.

And the result was stunning.

The problem was, he wasn't sure he could actually sing this.

His eyes scanned the lyrics one more time, and the words were maybe too earnest to be manageable. Just staring at the fist lines, he could feel tears starting to sting his eyes.

He kept on repeating to himself that it would help. He had done such a great job for these past two weeks in fooling everyone that everything was fine. At least, that's what he thought. He hadn't cried in front of anyone, he kept on smiling as if all was fine. It wasn't the first time he was writing bad songs for a few days, he was certain that he could go away with it.

Could he go away with it if he sang about how he was truly crumbling though?

But the notes echoed in his headphones, and his colleagues gave him an excited thumb up.

It was too late to back down now.

So he opened his mouth and sang the first verse, but when his eyes fell on the second, his voice simply refused to come out.

And you're not here

He cleared his throat, and apologized, asking if he could start from the beginning again.

Of course, he noticed the worry that started to appear in everybody's gaze. His voice was deeper than usual, and Harry wasn't particularly good at hiding the fact that he was on the verge of tears.

But he needed to let it out. It would help. Letting it all out would help. Singing about his feelings had always helped, this time would not be different.

One more try, and this time, his voice needed to not break.

He hadn't told anyone what he truly felt after you left. It was his first and only attempt to speak about it.

 I'm in my bed

And you're not here

And there's no one to blame but the drink in my wandering hands

 Mitch wondered what had happened. After his discussion with Jasmine, the more he thought about it all, the more he believed that she was right. Harry loved you, he was well aware of the fact. It was obvious. But what could he have done that would have broken your friendship completely? He didn't believe it was the other way around, with you doing something so bad that Harry had to stop seeing you. He knew Harry too well, he would have forgiven you, whatever you might have done. His heart was too big for his own good, and when he loved, he too often was ready to turn a blind eye and forgive even what didn't deserve to be forgiven.

Now that he looked at Harry singing this song, he felt like he was catching a glimpse at what had actually happened.

And he reckoned that Jasmine was right.

 Forget what I said

It's not what I meant

 Harry's voice broke again at the end of this line, and this time he buried his face in his hands, unable to go on. He turned around, hiding himself from the faces staring at him on the other side of the glass wall, walking to hide further away from them.

While everyone in the studio exchanged worried stares, Mitch walked over to Harry.

He had his hands on his hips now, his head low, trying to calm himself down.

"I'm fine," Harry spoke in a broken voice as he heard someone approaching, sniffing, making a terrible liar, as usual. "Just… give me a minute."

But Mitch didn't walk away, and instead he reached to rest a soothing hand on his best friend's shoulder.

"I don't think you're alright though, mate."

Harry didn't answer. Instead, he was torn between his urge to spill it all out, and his want to put on a brave face.

But then, Mitch was wrapping his arms around him, and Harry reckoned that it was only making things worse. It was making everything worse. It was making the tears fall even more easily, and it made him want to hug him too, and it made him think about your hugs and…

His arms fell to hang aimlessly by his sides as his head fell upon his friend's shoulder. And Mitch felt the weight of his body lean against him, to the point where he guessed that if he hadn't been holding onto him, Harry would have fallen to his knees.

And then the first sob came out.

And then a second.

And a third.

And it seemed that they would never end…

"I'm here. It's gonna be alright," Mitch tried to reassure his crying friend, although he wasn't sure how to make it right.

Harry's hands finally came up to turn into fists around Mitch's shirt, and he seemed to be holding a little bit better on his feet. But the sobs didn't falter.

And as he finally spoke, Mitch was certain that he had never heard him so broken before.

"I fucked up. Mitch, I've fucked up so hard."

"It's okay, we'll repair it. We'll find something."

But Harry shook his head, and his knees mostly gave out again, his weight leaning heavier against Mitch once more. He choked on his tears, before struggling his way through his next words, cut out by sobs and torn out breaths.

"I can't. I've fucked up too much this time. She won't let me… She won't let me repair it. And I… I just want her back. Mitch, I just want her back… I need her back..."

The sobs seemed to only strengthen, and Mitch tightened his hold on his crying friend.

"It'll be alright, Harry. You'll be fine."

But listening to his friend's cries, Mitch wondered if his words of reassurance were not a lie.

Harry was doing better.

He wouldn't have gone as far as to say that he was fine, but he was slowly getting better. He hadn't cried in a while. He had gone through the period where everything was numb instead of painful. The stages of grief were slowly drifting by, but he didn't feel okay for now.

Fine Line was done. He had released a single, and was working on another. For now, it was a success. Everything in that department was going great.

And yet he felt like all the good moments he had were tainted by the fact that you weren't there to share them with him.

He wondered how your shop was doing, but didn't dare going there. He was too scared you would see him and get mad. He was too scared that if he saw you there, he wouldn't be able to leave again.

And yet, he wanted to see you so badly.

He didn't think that he would ever be okay without you. And after a couple of months of absolute radio-silence, he hoped that you could see him, even if for just a moment.

It was selfish, and he knew it. You had made it clear that you wanted him out of your life, and yet he couldn't get over you.

How could he?

He gave himself the excuse that seeing you one last time might help. It would be his chance to truly say goodbye, in a way he hadn't managed to that day in his kitchen. By then he was too upset to really bid you farewell. And there were a few things still that he wanted to tell you before leaving you alone for good. He couldn't speak any of these words over the phone though, he needed to do this face to face.

Was it only an excuse? Not entirely, he did mean to confess a few things that kept him up at night before disappearing from your life. But there was also a part of him that simply longed to see you one last time, and ignoring it would have been lying.

He looked down at the gift he had brought, wrapped in purple paper. His new album hadn't been released yet, but he hoped for you to be the first to hear it, just like you had for his first album.

He didn't expect that you would let him stick around to see your reaction, but perhaps a little text once you would have listened to it? If he had to walk out of your life, would you at least keep his music with you?

He would keep your flowers with him, that was for sure.

He looked up to stare at the door of your flat. He had been standing here for fifteen minutes, trying to gather his courage. He had walked back to the elevator a couple of times, hesitating to just leave and give up on this stupid idea of his, but he always turned back around and came to stand before your door again.

At last, he took a deep breath, gathering his courage, and knocked on your door.

He couldn't cry. Of that he was certain. Whatever your reaction might be, he could not cry. He would not cry. He was strong enough not to. He hadn't in weeks, and he would not start again tonight…

But then Gareth appeared when the door opened instead of you, and Harry struggled to not crumble to the ground then and there.

"Harry? What are you doing here?" Gareth asked with a frown. "I thought you and Y/N weren't friends anymore."

Harry forced a smile to form across his lips, but the gesture certainly did not reach his eyes.

"I know… hum… I just… hum… I just wanted to see her. Is she here?"

"No, she isn't, actually. She's out with Jas."

"Oh…"

Harry was feeling so foolish now. As he played thousands of scenarios in his head before coming here, he hadn't even considered the possibility that you might not be home tonight.

"I see…"

"You want me to tell her you dropped by? Give her something?" Gareth asked, nodding towards Harry's gift.

"Huh… Yeah… just… hum… Can you just tell her I dropped by? And… give her this for me, please?"

He handed his album to Gareth.

"Of course, no trouble. I'd invite you to come in, but as you're not really friends with Y/N anymore, I don't want her to be upset if she finds out. You know… taking sides and all that…"

"No, no, no… It's fine. Just… just give her that and tell her to call me, if she feels like it."

"Will do. Take care, Harry."

"You too."

Gareth was about to close the door, when Harry stopped him, resting his palm against the wooden surface in a jolt.

Your boyfriend frowned, but didn't insist to close the door completely. Harry looked terrible, if Gareth was to be honest. He didn't know what had happened between the two of you to push you apart, but he could see now that Harry was affected by it just as much as you were.

"Gareth… can you do one last thing for me?" Harry asked, and your boyfriend was certain by now that there were tears at the corner of his eyes.

"Sure."

Harry's lips trembled, and he had to clench his jaw to make it stop. When he spoke again, his voice was raspy and hoarse, weak and fragile.

"You're a good man. I know that we haven't always been on the same page you and me, but I know that you really care about Y/N, and I've always respected you for that."

"Thanks, man. I appreciate that. You're a good man too, it's a shame that you and Y/N are not talking anymore."

"Take care of her."

There was desperation in his gaze as he spoke, and when he closed his eyes for a few seconds, his eyelashes started to glimmer with tears. He let out a long, shaky breath as he bent his head for a second, before looking up at your boyfriend again.

"Whatever happens, please, take good care of her. Please, make sure she's happy. Please…"

When Harry's lips trembled again, and a first tear finally rolled down his cheek before he could brush it away, Gareth was certain that he had been right all along.

It wasn't a mere friend that was standing before him. Was it the reason why you weren't on speaking terms anymore? Had you chosen Gareth instead of him?

It didn't matter, not for now.

So, your boyfriend nodded, and didn't ask why Harry was crying on your threshold, even if it had been over two months now since you had seen each other.

Instead, he made the promise that was asked of him.

"I will. Don't worry about her, I'll be here for her."

Harry nodded, drying his cheeks again, and finally let go of the door so Gareth could close it at last.

"Thanks. Goodbye, Gareth."

"Goodbye, Harry."

Gareth closed the door while Harry walked back to the elevator, and something told your boyfriend that he would not see your former friend again.

When you came home around an hour later, you found your boyfriend on the couch, and he had a worried frown on his brow.

"Everything alright, babe?" you asked him, dropping by his side on the couch and kissing his cheek.

"Yeah. How was your night?"

"Nice! Jas called a few more friends and we went to a nice new restaurant. It was great. How was your evening? What are you watching?"

"Nothing interesting. Harry dropped by."

Your eyes grew bigger at the mention of his name.

"Oh… what did he want?"

"He wanted me to give you this," Gareth said, reaching out for the gift wrapped in purple paper that he had set next to the couch on the floor. "Asked me to tell you to call him if you wanted."

You took the gift from him, nodding slowly.

"I see…"

"So… are you going to open it?"

You traced your fingers along the thin gift, but shook your head.

Instead, you stood up, and went to hide the gift away in the back of one of your closets.

"Did he say anything else?" you asked, turning back towards Gareth.

"Nothing for you."

You nodded again, nervously twisting your hands together.

"How was he?"

Gareth hesitated. He could have told you the truth, but he didn't really want to, not after the fact that his doubts had been validated. Also, he reckoned that it would hurt you more than anything.

So, he lied instead.

"He seemed to be fine. He looked great."

You cleared your throat, and you didn't seem able to stop nodding now.

"Great. I'll… go take a shower, and then head to bed, this night out made me exhausted."

When you closed the door of the bathroom behind you, and he heard another sound mingled with the running water, he knew you were crying.

He had tried many times before to comfort you, but had never been particularly successful. Sometimes, he wondered if he didn't even make it worse.

So, instead of rushing to the bathroom, he left you to cry in peace until all the tears were gone, and you could find the strength to drag yourself to the bed for another sleepless night.

***************************************************

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[mor-beck-more-problems]

Intro to Balancing Your Life || Morgan & Sasha

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @sasha-r-blog & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Sasha drops in on a new class on campus; Morgan is only too happy to offer encouragements.

“…And who is it that determines the definition of humanity? What kind of definitions do we see offered by Victor, or Henry Cleveral, or the Creature?” Morgan asked the class. The students, while not thrilled with some of Mary Shelley’s ‘big words’ had enough preparation to offer semi thoughtful ideas. Obviously, Victor thought he could define what human means. One of her try-hard students, eager to please every adult in sight, posited that while Victor’s definition of humanity is the one that dominates the narrative, the intrusion of the creature’s perspective halfway through the book is meant to compel the reader into questioning its validity. “Yes!” Morgan tossed the kid a candy from her bowl. “The midpoint crisis here upends our expectations through thought, rather than action. It is, structurally, the center, the heart of the story, changing what we believe to be true. But, are we convinced by the Creature’s definition of his humanity? Why or why no–”

Morgan’s timer, the theme song of The X-Files, went off.

“Shit. Alright, that’s time everybody! Do your homework, do your reading, and get ready for Fan-Fiction Friday! And you–” She pointed to the newcomer sandwiched at the corner of the seminar table. “Come see me for a minute. The rest of you: glad you love each other, but please get out.” As the room cleared out she began to gather up her things. “I’ll level with you, I haven’t checked my roster, so I’m not sure if you’re a late add or just checking things out. But either way, I might be able to answer any questions you have better one-on-one instead of just looking at you across the room.”

Sasha watched the other students mingle and leave, a second of nervousness keeping her in her seat before the professor called out to her. It was hard to parse the tone in Professor Beck’s voice when Sasha’s immediate assumption at a teacher saying to “see me” was that she had fuck up somehow. But either way, Sasha walked towards the desk, dodging any curious looks from her exiting classmates.

“Um, hi. Sorry I didn’t mean to cause any trouble by sitting in.” She shifted the straps of her backpack, tugging them against her shoulders, as if the weight would somehow shield her from the awkwardness. “I’m Sasha Rodriguez. You gave me your office hours awhile ago. I uh, didn’t get a chance to visit but I saw your name on the winter session course list  and thought I’d check it out. I’m trying to branch out I guess.”

It took Morgan a few minutes to place the girl. She didn’t give out her school contact information to everyone, but it happened often enough that she had more than one name floating around her head. But the more she looked at her, the nervousness, the eagerness, the closer Morgan got to a hunch. “Oh, you’re the girl trying to figure everything out in college. I’m glad you decided to come by. If you’ve got some spare time, we can go somewhere and talk? I’d love to have you join in the spring, if you like what you’ve seen so far.” She dumped her books and laptop into her bag, and shouldered the load, handling the bulk with ease thanks to her strength. “Come on. Why don’t you start by telling me what you’re branching out from and what you thought about class today.”

“Oh, yeah, okay.” Sasha said as she moved to follow the professor. She still wasn’t used to how casual some professors could be. In high school they made it sound like professors were all strict, no nonsense, and unforgiving. And Sasha had certainly had professors like that during her first semester. But here was a professor throwing candy to students and cursing in class and talking about fan fiction. It was cool, but weird to process.

“I’m in computer science and I’ve only really taken courses in that department and math stuff. Oh, and also English 101, for the gen ed.” Those classes had been a lot different from what Sasha had just sat in on. Even the one English class she took didn’t really match up, that one having been run by an exhausted looking graduate teaching assistant who didn’t seem all that interested in teaching.

“The class was cool, though I feel like a lot of the stuff you were saying went over my head.” Sasha had a moment of internal panic, worried that came off as implying Professor Beck was bad at teaching. “I’ve just never been good at looking into books, but the class was interesting. I was surprised you mentioned fanfiction at the end. I didn’t think most professors even knew what that was.” Oh no, did that sound rude too? Sasha closed her mouth before she could say something dumb. Besides her advisor, if you could even count their meetings as conversation, and Ben, Sasha hadn’t really spoken one on one with a professor before. It still felt a bit surreal.

“Oh, that’s just because you’re coming in at the tail end of the course. I don’t throw my students into the deep end before I’m certain they can at least, you know, doggie paddle.” Morgan smiled good naturedly and lead them up to the main sitting area in the English building, setting her bag down carefully and making herself comfortable. “I can tell you that looking into books isn’t so different from the way you look into the stories in other media. Movies, TV, video games, comic books--our relationship to the stories we engage with say so much about what we envision for ourselves and the world. The more we understand and invest that relationship, the more empowered we feel to take control of our fate.” Morgan stopped herself from saying anything more and laughed, low and self deprecating. “Oh, jeez, don’t tell the other professors I said that. But, anyways, yes, the aforementioned reasons are what fan-fiction and other forms of counter-storytelling are so important. But more important than that is doing something that’s going to challenge you in positive, enjoyable ways. And making time for a little fun.” Morgan held her fingers up, like this much. “Can I ask how the rest of college is going for you, Sasha?”

Sasha followed her and sat in the unfamiliar sitting room. She gave a small smile as Professor Beck talked about stories and how people related to them, finding that she had been nodding along without realizing. She stopped once she did, somehow worried that it came off as over eager, as if a professor would ever get mad at someone being interested in what they were saying. If only the professor knew how close that hit to home for her. All those stories of kids getting superpowers, it was real. As if it had jumped straight off the page. As if Sasha had willed it into being. In the back of her mind Sasha wondered how she would have reacted to suddenly growing calls if she hadn’t grown up on comics and superhero movies. It felt like the blueprint to everything now.

Lost in her own thoughts she was a bit startled when the professor’s tone shifted. “No, no I agree, I think. I think all that stuff is important. Storytelling. I mean, I’m not much of a reader but comics and games and movies have been really important to me.” She wished there was a major in that stuff. Or crime fighting. She’d be on the dean’s list if her nightly patrols counted for credits.

“It’s been going okay. I mean, I don’t really do much outside of classes. I’ve been trying to do more but I mostly keep to myself.” It was the same thing she had told her advisor and Professor Campbell, but more and more Sasha felt silly for saying it. It wasn’t like she did nothing, just nothing related to college life. But it wasn’t like she could tell her professors she was protecting White Crest. Or at least trying to.

Morgan noticed Sasha’s interest and perked up at once. “You know, we do cover films in my class,” she said, grinning slyly. “And books. But still. It’s the same kind of thought process as with books, so it might as well be given its time and place. There’s plenty of other courses like that in this department, even a film and media studies minor. You should do what makes you happy, because undergrad coursework doesn’t matter half as much as you think it does. It’s all internships and jobs and connections and recommendations that help you get anywhere. And this place, college, has a lot of flaws and problems, but one of the best ways to make it worth it is leave knowing as much as you can about the things that matter to you most.” But that was about all the pitching she was willing to do on behalf of her class. Besides, being a student at UMWC came second to being a kid in White Crest. Morgan couldn’t help but look at the girl and wonder what this place would do to her. Morgan pushed the thought away, she couldn’t let herself focus on a big, bad future like it was some kind of unstoppable force.

“This might sound silly, coming from a professor who just tried to recruit you to their class, but I hope you do find other things besides school studies. There’s a much bigger world out there, and you should have something else in your life. At least friends and playing video games or going to Al’s at one in the morning or whatever kids your age do now. Life is for doing stuff, you know? Whatever it is you’re thinking about doing or joining, you should go for it!”

“I never really thought about taking a minor. I didn’t know they had one about film.” Honestly, more and more Sasha felt like she hadn’t planned much of anything when it came to school. Or life in general. But she supposed she could change that. If anything this talk had made her actually interested in looking into classes, something she had mostly breezed through doing in the past, simply checking off the boxes of what she needed for her degree. But if the professor was right and it didn’t matter that much... “Maybe I’ll try looking into classes for film and english and stuff like that. They seem fun. At least the stuff you were talking about seems fun.”

Maybe it would make school more interesting, instead of something Sasha went through the motions of to get to her real job. “Real job,” as being a superhero paid. As if she wouldn’t one day need a day job. College was a convenient way to pass the time and something she was told she had to do, but it would be nice to actually care about it, to feel like she was actually doing something.

“I do have hobbies...” Just none she could tell Professor Beck about. “But yeah, I should probably try to do more. I wanted to check out the library. I was supposed to help out with the comic collection there as a volunteer thing. So that’s a start I guess.” It had almost slipped her mind, but that was something she had been genuinely excited for. It was just hard to remember stuff like that during the day when she was normally up all night. Her nightly patrols had turned her days sluggish and uneventful, filled with quick naps between class and maybe some video games alone in her dorm before she put on her costume and went out again. And she loved doing it, of course she loved going out at night to keep White Crest safe. But at the same time...

“Do you ever just get really focused on one thing?” Sasha asked the question before she was thought about it, but decided to keep going, even if it was dumb. “Like, you have something you like or is important and you just focus on that and everything else just kinda blurs into the background?”  Sasha rubbed nervously at the back of her neck. “I don’t know if that makes sense. I guess sometimes I feel like that. But I don’t know if I want to change it.”

“The library is a great start!” Morgan said. “You’re going to learn so much, and probably find people who have similar interests to you when they come to check out materials. But I hope you do other stuff, not for credit, just for you. You’re only going to be young once--” Hopefully.

She couldn’t help but smile at Sasha’s notion, that hyper-focus was something rare or embarrassing. “Oh, all the time. I have some art projects that I do on the side, and I can get so lost in my carving that hours can pass by so easily. Same with baking, or cooking something really involved. It’s almost like you’re connecting to something else, outside of or beyond you. There’s you, the thing you’re doing, and this energy it gives you, right?” Morgan watched the girl’s expression to see if she was getting it right. “Even if it’s just kind of like that, I don’t think you should change it. Whatever that thing is, it sounds to me like the universe is giving you the green light to keep going.”

Sasha nodded, giving a small smile. She was happy that Professor Beck seemed to get it and not think it was weird. Sure, Sasha's focus wasn’t on crafts or cooking, but it was the thought that counted. Her mind lingered on what she said about being given a green light. Really, what was a bigger green light than getting her powers? But she knew there was more to it than that. There had to be a reason it was her. She had to be able to do something with her powers, something to really help people. It was comforting to have the professor say she was right, that the universe wanted her to do what she was already doing, but there was a pang of melancholy knowing Sasha couldn’t tell her, or anyone, the truth. How much did advice and validation matter when the person saying it didn’t know the full truth?

She shook the thought from her head. “Thanks. Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask you a bunch of weird questions when I came to sit in. I think it would be cool to try out one of your classes though if you still have room for students.” Sasha chased away the worry of struggling in a class she wasn’t used to. If worst came to worst she could always drop that class. At least it would be something new, something she might actually end up liking.

Beaming and unawares, Morgan took out a post-it from her bag and scribbled out the class information before handing it to Sasha. “Don’t be embarrassed about questions,” she said. “Questions are how we learn. You’re never going to find anything interesting if you always leave well enough alone.” She stood up, getting the vibe that Sasha had opened up all she felt like so far. “I hope to see a lot more of you this coming semester,” she said. “Hoping even more that you do something just for you, but.” She put a finger to her lips. That’ll just be our secret.

“Thanks. I’ll try to keep asking them.” Well that was one social interaction that didn’t go horribly. Wasn’t great that Sasha considered that a victory for herself but she was going to take the feeling of accomplishment anyways. “And I’ll try to do stuff for myself too.” That was going to take more work than just registering for a class, but maybe it wouldn’t be the worst. She couldn’t promise herself she would put in the effort though. Tucking the post-it note into her backpack she smiled and said goodbye to Professor Beck. Maybe a few new classes would be enough to make her college life, and her daily life, seem a bit more exciting and a bit less like time to just get through. But her patrolling White Crest at night was still more important. Professor Beck didn’t have to know that part though.

[aliciajamess]

His Shallow Weakness (Tom Riddle x OC)

Summary: Tom Riddle was charming and kind, so encouraging and persuasive. He liked to delve deep into each person’s thoughts and emotions. That was his main goal. But what if there’s that one girl who had nothing different about her, nothing special, no depth? Nothing for him to know?

Pairing: Tom Riddle x OC

Genre: Horror, Romance

“How are you?” Tom greeted one of the fellow Gryffindor girls in Hogwarts who passed by him down the hallway. He gave them a blossoming smile that erupted butterflies in their stomachs, causing them to giggle and blush furiously.

“We’re good, Tom,” said the raven-haired girl, pointing next to who he could only assume was her best friend. “Which class are you headed to?”

“Potions, actually,” he responded. “Do you like potions?”

Both girls nodded intensely. “Oh! It’s our favourite!”

“That’s good,” he said, nodding his head with a clean smile.

“Are we keeping you? We apologize,” hurried the strawberry blonde girl beside her with a bow.

Tom shook his head and held his hand out to humble them. “Not at all, it’s absolutely alright. But we must get going then.”

The girls nodded and went skipping ahead, gushing about the perfectly angled jawline that belonged to Tom. Tom smiled at his friends, Tiernan and Avery, who nodded at him to continue walking to his class. Even though Tom’s potions class was all the way at the other end of school from the other two’s Transfiguration’s class, they still remained adamant to walk him there. They so badly wanted his approval.

“Why don’t you boys get going to your classes instead of mine?” he ushered softly, trying not to make it seem like they’re being forced. They had to want to earn his validation.

Avery and Tiernan shook their heads vigorously. “No need, Tom! We’ll walk you!” said Tiernan Lestrange.

“Very well,” shrugged Tom.

They proceeded to walk down the hallway, entering the potion’s tower that was taught by the head of their house - Horace Slughorn. He was Tom’s favourite teacher, mainly because he’d gotten most of Hogwarts’ secrets from him. And he continued to get on his professor’s good side for more information. That was what this was all about.

Until, he saw her again. His heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second. He paused from walking strangely and his other two friends gave each other a weird look. Tom immediately became anxious and frustrated like he’d never been. His mind scattered around trying to find a reason for his unusual infatuation for the tall and glamorous blonde.

What was it about her? No doubt, she was from a genetically-blessed, noble and notorious, well-respected pure-blood family who knew and understood Salazar Slytherin’s values. She was also the owner of one of the possibly best hair’s of the century. Her pale yet slightly bronzed complexion certainly brought out the basic blue in her eyes. And she was blessedly taller than the rest of the girls in Hogwarts, making it easy for her to turn heads around school.

But that was all there is to her. Physical appearance; beauty that Tom would never deny in a hundred years. Other than that, she was as bland as an apple. Her life was as simple as following her parents’ lessons and just plain having her prettiness be her main personality. There was nothing different about her but her face. And yet, Tom was inevitably drawn onto her. And it pissed him off to feel so superficial.

He prided himself in mastering how to psychoanalyze every single person he’d encountered. Professor Dumbledore was wary from the death of his sister, and blamed himself terribly because of it. Avery and Lestrange had major family neglect issues that only made them want to strive for someone more powerful than they were’s approval. And all Slughorn cared about was that Slytherins cared about wanting to be in the Slug Club - since that was the only way he was sure that people still respected him.

It wasn’t that hard to figure out people’s strengths and weaknesses and find his way around them. But this girl, this girl, had none. He didn’t know how to act around her. Everybody else had a story, but her. So what was it about her then?

“Tom!” she cheered pleasantly.

In return, Tom gave her a smile. “Juliet,” he muttered her name like it was addictive poison.

“Are you headed for potions?” she asked, her eyes glimmering so enticingly that it made him weak in the knees.

“Yes, of course, can’t be late to that,” he said with the tilt of his head. “What about you? Aren’t you going?”

“Yes,” said Juliet. “I was just on the look for you since it was written on the board that we’re partners.”

God forbid that I would sleep restfully tonight, Tom thought miserably, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to get her out of his head later that night, once again.

“Well, here I am,” he said. He turned to his two mates and nodded at them to go to their respective classes and leave him with Juliet.

He walked a little bit to the front and waited for Juliet to turn to the same direction as him, walking side by side to the potions classroom.

“You’re a bit late today, you’re usually very early,” she pointed out.

And Tom was happy, to say the least. Juliet noticed what time he would go into class. Juliet notices him.

“Right. I got caught up talking to Reeva and Eloise on the way.”

She nodded, evidently not that interested in what he was going to say. Like she only asked to start a conversation.

“So did the professor start on the instructions?” asked Tom.

“Not yet. He really wanted to wait for you,” she giggled.

Tom chuckled himself. He loved being Slughorn’s personal favourite. “Well, then it must be a good project.”

They entered the classroom and took a seat on the very front row where Slughorn had seated both of them, being his favourites. Slughorn shed a blind eye to Tom’s tardiness and then started his class.

“Today, we’re going to be making Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion. Just like we talked about yesterday, its purpose is to tame unruly hair to your wishes. Since I notice that there aren’t any gingers in this class, all of you shall proceed with the making. You will test it out on your own hair later in your own time, report a lab with a conclusion, and it is all due tomorrow. Get along now.”

Tom couldn’t help but fantasize of how he would take two drops of the potion, rub it in between his fingers and palms before running it through Juliet’s golden locks. It looked so smooth and carefree, he could barely resist the urge to just graze his fingers through it purposely accidentally.

But he remained where he sat. He waited for her to make the first move and talk about the project with him. Just to see if she was really interested in initiating a little something with him. So he picked up the Asian Dragon hair that lay on their shared table and looked at her patiently.

“So do you know how to do this?” she asked innocently. “I don’t think I remembered the instructions from yesterday.”

And then he remembered that Juliet wasn’t the brightest bulb around here. She gets Acceptable and Poor, and even at times, Dreadful, on most of her subjects. Don’t ask Tom how he knew this, just know that Juliet has never gotten anything more than Acceptable in any of her subjects. It was one of the things that revolted Tom about Juliet; she didn’t care.

He was normally more intrigued by people who showed interests in their studies and passions. Juliet, however, had none. It seemed that she completely depended on her family name - the Voilette’s - to help her to exceed. Or maybe even her looks that would awe the professors. Though none of the things she does would clearly imply that. She was a mystery box that really held nothing inside. How was that even possible.

Tom stiffened his jaw but still forced himself to smile politely. “Yes, I do. I’ll help you, don’t fret. Just add the hairs on the pot like so.”

Juliet watched blankly as Tom added on ingredients and stirred the pot thoroughly. She was neither bored nor excited. After a few minutes of the mixture blending in, Tom stopped stirring and studied the potion.

“Could you pass me the flask?” he asked.

“Sure,” she mumbled, grabbing one out of the three flasks in front of her and handed it to Tom’s awaiting hands. “Is it done?”

“Yes. Would you like for the experiment to be done on you?” He inwardly was wishing for Merlin to make Juliet agree, just so Tom could have the permission to feel her hair and possibly grab one strand and make a love potion out of it.

She didn’t think anything of it and shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

Tom smiled cheekily. “Perfect. We’ll meet after school at the library and test it out then, yes?”

She hummed in approval as she leaned on the table and tried to take a whiff of the green liquid. And Tom watched her do so, he almost didn’t care that he literally looked creepy. Not that Juliet would’ve noticed. And everybody else was too absorbed in their own tasks to notice.

“Is that peppermint?” she asked him genuinely.

Tom furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “I-It’s Dragon hair...”

After class, Juliet packed up and merely waved at him goodbye, but not without flashing him her usual I’m-Too-Good-Not-To-Show-Off-My-Smile smile. Tom wondered if he was inching closer into psychoanalyzing her by just her smile.

But professor Slughorn’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “Riddle,” he called.

Tom looked and moved over to his professor diligently. “Yes, professor?”

“I’ve noticed that you were the only who was doing the work in the project. Is there any problem in there?” he asked.

Tom shook his head. “Not at all. But professor, if I might ask, would you tell me what made you choose.. Juliet Voilette to be the first student in the Slug Club?”

Slughorn was evidently astonished by his question and placed a hand on his beer gut as he laughed foolishly. “My dear boy, Juliet was the reason I had made the club in the first place.”

“What does that mean?” asked Tom.

Slughorn stumbled over his words hesitantly. “Well, I can’t particularly put a finger on that. I mean, Jules has always been sort of a question mark in the sense that she’s not... the most hard-working student — ”

Tom raised his eyebrows at his superior suggestively.

Slughorn nodded and rolled his eyes. “Oh, be it. Jules doesn’t work hard at all. Truth is, I question myself daily why on earth she was sorted under Slytherin. But the reason I made Slug Club was because I thought that if she was surrounded by people who were ambitious, she would then be influenced by them.”

Slughorn sighed and took a seat behind his desk. “But obviously, she’s not trying one bit. She comes and takes a seat, drink tea and eats as if she owned the place. But there is something about Jules that I have noticed...”

Tom took note of how Slughorn had created Juliet her own nickname; Jules. It was cute and whatnot, but he’d originally had no idea they were that close.

“She works half as hard as everybody else, and yet, she would end up getting the same results, if not better. Of course, this isn’t grades-wise. Merlin knows,” he groaned as he delved his hand into one the drawers in his desk and pulled out a handful of magazines.

“She had been voted Witch Weekly’s top Most Beautiful Witch of 1943 last year. And the year before that, she’d won the Most Outstanding Walk Award. Once, she was even on The Quibbler under the conspiracy theory of using a self-beauty spell on herself in an attempt to become more beautiful. She was on the Daily Prophet in 1939 simply for buying a red dress at Madame Malkin, the following day, countless of witches wore the exact same dress. Obviously, I couldn’t let her A-list status go to waste.”

Slughorn seemed disappointed with himself for only caring about his student’s reputation by the way he slapped his palms onto his forehead tiredly. But Tom understood how he felt. Completely.

“Thank you for telling me that, professor,” said Tom with a courteous bow. “I’ll be on my way now.”

Slughorn only nodded at his most prized student and dwelled in his own thoughts precariously. Tom felt weak and disheartened as he came to a realization that he and Slughorn were facing the same issues regarding Juliet. She was a tough yet empty shell to crack. There was no point. And yet, it only made Tom want to try harder.

He barely listened to any of his classes, his mind clouded with the things that could happen later in the library where they would meet. He was going to take advantage of that time and get her to open up, just to give him some peace of mind. Even if it was as small as knowing the things that frustrate her, it would do.

He shouldn’t be liking her at all - or would he even want to call it liking? It seemed like such a muggle emotion. Not even just muggle, it’s a common feeling that everybody gets from time to time. Was he now just like everybody else?

As soon as his last class had ended, he stomped toward the library heavier than ever. But on the outside, he kept his chivalry and polite practices on for show. That was the only thing he felt he could control for now. He held the library door open for one of the girls behind him and stepped aside for them to enter. He waited right on the entrance, looking over the window occasionally in search for a particular pretty blonde.

He tapped his foot impatiently. Where was she? She was about... He checked the pocket watch from the insides of his robe and grunted. 57 seconds late.

The librarian looked over at his hunched back and waited for his word that he was doing just fine. He nodded at her reassuringly and painfully smiled at her. Now people were noticing that he was obviously detered. Only Juliet’s appearance could save that now. Oh, how pathetic he felt. Needing somebody else to make him sane?

“Tom!” Juliet’s voice from outside of the library door greeted happily. Tom resisted the urge to pull her in and just slap her for causing a nuisance in himself. He opened the door for her, knowing she would be waiting for it. “Hey, so where are we doing the thing?”

The thing? He thought irritably. That thing happens to be the thing that determines my grades and achievements.

“Probably somewhere private and quiet,” he directed.

He held his hands to his right signalling her to go first and she did. He watched her walk, her hair dangling in layers, enhancing her soft blow-out. It had a natural highlight of darker and lighter shades of caramel and sunflower blonde. He was so mesmerized by it that he felt this tingling feeling in himself that wanted to braid her hair like a poet would say.

She led him to some of the dimmer parts of the library. It was a small corner surrounded by shelves and only a small and round table in there. Completely isolated from the rest of crowd. He felt much more comfortable in here, much more confident.

Juliet set a single book down on the table and took a seat, Tom did the same and sat across from her. He had her all to himself now. And so he stared at her sharply, intensely, trying to get a look of her light blue eyes and see through them, read the details in them.

Juliet blinked a few times when she noticed this. “Uhm, are we gonna start?” she asked.

Tom fixed his composure and cleared his throat. “Yes. Do you happen to have a hairbrush?”

Juliet laughed lightly. “It’s, like, all I carry around me all the time!”

She pulled out a shiny pink hairbrush that somehow held an expensive aura to it and held it over to him, he gladly took it. She then positioned her chair around and dangled her hair over the back of it, swaying it swiftly at Tom’s face. His head followed the movements of her hair hypnotically.

He couldn’t help it. He just had to take some time to simply look at her hair, study the details, take a mental picture and force it into his dreams later than night. It was beautiful.

“Tom?” she interrupted his thoughts. “Are we starting?”

By the sound of her voice, she was starting to feel uncomfortable. She must be able to feel his stare without even seeing it. So he took the cap off of the flask and dropped a few droplets of the potion on his left hand. He places the flask down on the table and rubbed his hands together, and then he fulfilled his dreams.

He touched her hair. He ran his fingers through her tresses and never wanted to leave them again. It brought him immense pleasure just to touch them, play with them, twirl them around his fingers, fix the knots, flick them. A slight smile formed on his face, he felt that he was in a power position right now. And Juliet had no idea that she was being so submissive like he wanted her to be.

Minutes and minutes had passed. He still hadn’t gotten enough of it. That was until a sigh escape from Juliet’s lips followed by her tapping her slim and dainty fingers over her exposed lap due to her short skirt that she’d overgrown throughout the years.

What a whore, said Tom at the back of his head. He was convinced that she knew exactly what she was doing.

She clicked her black stilettos together and fidgeted around. She was silently telling him to lay off of her hair and Tom unwillingly obeyed her wishes.

“Alright then, that’s it,” he announced. And Juliet let out a short gasp, acting like she didn’t see that one coming.

Her hair was different now. Instead of the curled blow-out it was in before, it was sleek straight, giving her a more sophisticated and posh look instead of the warm sunshine look she usually had. He didn’t know if he liked this look better on her. But he certainly was not complaining.

“Well it worked!” she cheered playfully.

“That it did. So let’s work on the report now,” he suggested, taking a pen and paper out as she did the same thing.

Tom scribbled everything down on his paper speedily, like drawing the back of his hand. He knew everything he had to say to get an Oustanding mark. Time went by prety fast for him on that note. However, he noticed that Juliet barely had anything written down - that was actually related to their potions assignment. She mostly just doodled different types of heels on the edges of the paper, probably thinking that Tom was going to carry her in this partner work.

Tom had no problem with that. If she wasn’t working on their assignment, then she could work on giving him some answers to his own questions.

“So,” he began. “Have your parents written to you at all this year?”

This was his attempt of getting some background information about her parents. Maybe know if their were neglectful which resulted in her superficially attention-seeking and careless ways. Or if they were too strict, resulting in her complexity - or lack thereof.

“Yeah,” she nodded positively.

“Did you write back?”

“Yeah,” she smiled.

“Are you spending the holidays with them then?”

“I think. I don’t know yet. ‘Haven’t really given that some thought.”

“Would there be any reason that you wouldn’t want to spend the holidays with your own parents?”

Fuck, Tom thought. That was too forward.

Juliet looked at him awkwardly, caught off-guard by his question. “I-I don’t really know?”

But Tom proceeded with pushing these questions on her. He needed something. Anything.

“Did they ever do anything that affected your life gravely?”

Juliet’s eyes blinked before slowly rolling down to her paper, which she was now starting to scramble up like garbage. “Uhm, no? I hope not? But I-I think I’m gonna go.”

She grabbed her book and stood up to walk away. But Tom shot up instinctively. He grabbed her hand and twirled her around, lightly yet powerfully pushing her onto the bookshelves. He placed both of his hands beside her head and looked into her eyes with animosity.

Juliet was terrified.

“T-Tom? What are you doing?”

“Tell me something,” he muttered. “Anything. What are you thinking?”

Juliet’s breathing was unsteady as she felt trapped and forced to speak up. His stare made her feel so small. “I-I’m thinking.. why are you doing this?”

“It’s not enough.” Tom shook his head.

“What isn’t?” she asked.

But he ignored her and kept mumbling inaudibly. “It’s not enough... What are your greatest fears?”

She thought long and hard on this. She was never in the position to ever have to answer a question such as this. But ask her her favourite shade of lipstick and she’d spill in a heartbeat.

“I-I don’t really — ”

“ — know. Of course. What do you know? You have no idea what the value of Pi is, 67 squared, 147 cubed, what 1.77245 means. What do you know?” he repeated, only frustrating himself even more.

“Why are you asking me this?” she asked.

“Why don’t you try at school? Your grades are Acceptable at best. Your IQ would most likely be a solid 100. Do you think that you’re going to get special treatment for being Juliet Voilette? Is this a superiority complex?”

His hands remained solid on either side of her, he was now closing in the space between their heads. He felt the need to get even closer to her. Physically, emotionally and mentally. He was all about Juliet now.

Juliet didn’t know if she should even answer this. She didn’t know if he wanted a genuine answer or if he just wanted to tell her his questions and stare at her face.

“I-I can’t say...” she cautiously said.

“What does that mean?”

“I’m not quite sure myself,” she answered.

“What are you sure of?” he asked.

“That I’m scared right now.”

“Why’s that?” He narrowed his eyes.

“You’re scaring me.”

“Am I really?”

“You’re being different. You’re not usually like this. And I’m afraid. That’s what I know.”

“Really? What am I usually like?”

“Nice. Smart. Friendly. Grounded.”

“And now?”

“Creepy. Dark. Pushy.”

He smirked at her answers. “All I’m gathering from this is that you have zero emotional depth. Creepy, dark and pushy? Can you be more like every other girl?” he scoffed.

“I never pretended to be different.”

Bingo.

That was what was different about her. She never denied being who she was. She had the personality of a wall, and she knew it, and fully accepted it. Whereas other girls would’ve tried to force the idea that they were unique and different. Juliet was perfectly comfortable being the way she was.

But there was one thing.

“You’re a Voilette,” he pointed out. “Rich, famous. You were in Witch Weekly countless of times. Daily Prophet, too. Do you think that you’re better than everyone else because of that?”

He begged to know. He was just one step closer into cracking her case, he felt.

“I didn’t do anything to be in there. It just happened.”

True. Her achievements were nothing short of coincidence. Meanwhile, Tom worked for every single thing he has today - his intelligence, his followers, and his reputation. If anything, Juliet was only thriving off of pure luck. It was utterly pathetic. But she never said she didn’t do exactly just that. And he felt even more attracted toward her because of it.

“Does that do it for you?” she asked.

“Perfectly,” he responded, inching his hands off of the shelves slowly.

“Why did you have to ask?”

Tom rolled his eyes and tilted his head away from her, ashamed to even be asked the question. He brought his hands in and crossed them over her chest. “Nothing,” he murmured.

Juliet raised an eyebrow. “No, tell me,” she said.

“It’s nothing, okay?” he snapped, hoping it would get her off his case. He wasn’t used to talking so rudely to anyone, always needing to put up a front whenever he wasn’t alone.

But Juliet didn’t care. A teasing smile formed on her face. “Oh my gosh..” she gasped unbelievably.

Tom looked at her. “What?”

“You like me!” she loudly said.

“No I don’t! Trust me. I’m very repelled by the idea of you. In fact, thinking of you starts this weird feeling in my stomach,” he spat.

Her smile grew bigger into a Cheshire Cat grin. “Butterflies?? You get butterflies from thinking of me?”

Tom’s grimace turned into a look of realization. “Of course not,” he stubbornly denied.

“Sure, sure.” Juliet threw her hands up as if to give up. She began making her way out of their corner. “I’ll see you tomorrow at potions class, lover.”

Tom knew she was only saying that to tease him, but he liked that word coming out of her mouth. Describing him as her lover. Now that was something he could get used to.

Once Juliet was out of sight and had exited the library, Tom’s face softened and he chuckled to himself as he began packing his stuff up. Whatever it was that was going on between him and Juliet, he had a good feeling about it. He felt content. Approved. Validated. Permitted. He liked the feeling of it.

“No wonder Avery and Lestrange always kiss arse,” he hummed to himself.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Seventy-One

Sorry it's late, I ended up accidentally drugging myself when I got in from work last. I had a migraine and my mom gave me one her of Amitriptyline and I didn't realize it was going to knock me the fuck out for 12 fucking hours. I woke up earlier today and was so confused, work clothes still on, makeup still on, but my migraine went away so I guess it worked.

I told you guys a cut a part out (I'm saving it for another chapter) part of it was the preview for this chapter with the flashback of when Nikki came home after Viv and Duff were being nasty in his bed...anyway enjoy the chapter!

Words: 4k

Warning(s): explicit language, violence, mentions of drug abuse

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"What?" I ask Fred, taking a few deep breaths and he raises his brows. 

"They just got here today, Viv, there's no way in hell that kid's biting the hand that's feeding him, over you, without there being a damn good reason." He states and I sigh, only causing him to nod his head. "That's what I thought. Does Sixx know?"

My eyes widen as I glare at him as if he's crazy. 

"Is Nikki acting like he knows?" I sarcastically say and Fred crosses his arms. "No." I add, deciding now is not the time for sarcasm. "No, Nikki doesn't know...I mean, we haven't been seeing each other, really. We've only hooked up one time." I try to reason.

"When?"

"When we went on break in September for a few days." I explain, fumbling with my fingers. 

"What, you got a hotel room or something?" He presses and I apparently give away what happened because his eyes are going to the size of saucers and he's raising his eyebrows. 

"Fred," I start.

"You fucked another man in Sixx's house?" He asks me in shock that I had the audacity to do such a thing. 

"He slept with Vanity in our house, so why not?" 

"Yes, because the way to put a fire out is to start a completely different fire!" He raises his voice. 

"Shh!" I put my hand over his mouth. "If anyone finds out about this, I'm done with, and so is Guns N' Roses." I hiss at him. 

"Highly doubt Duff's waking up after a night of plowing you like a field, thinking about his career, or else he wouldn't be sleeping with you in the first place." Fred says back quietly. "And you, what the fuck are you doing? Are you insane? If you get caught you're done for." 

"I know." 

"Then why're you letting it happen?" 

"I don't know, alright? I just…" I let out a breath and think for a moment. 

"Do you like, love him or something?"

"No, of course not." I insist. "Well, I love him, but not like in love with him." 

"Do you love Nikki?" 

"It doesn't matter if I do or not. We're over with once the tour is done." 

"You've both completely annihilated your vows, Vivian, I think it's safe to say you two have been over." He replies and I don't answer, ignoring that realization. 

I continued to ignore that realization until Nikki served me divorce papers once he got out of the hospital after he overdosed.

I try to hold back a laugh as Donna politely rejects Steven for the umpteenth time since he met her, and he pouts at me as she walks away.

“Viv, I’m going crazy.” He tells me. “I’m losing the charm, I think.”

“Oh, c’mon, Stevie, you aren’t losing the charm. Donna’s just a hard nut to crack because she and Emi have been put on a ‘don’t sleep with the opening band’ order.” I suggest and he maintains his let down facial expression. “And Emi and Mick are already a thing and catch hell for it, so Donna’s more than likely not wanting to be in the same predicament.”

“This is so unfair.” He crosses his arms.

“Just hook up with groupies.” I shrug.

“I’m trying but they’re all leftovers from what Tommy, Vince and Nikk--” He abruptly stops speaking and I raise my brows.

“What was that?” I ask him.

“Nothing…” He mumbles.

“I already thought Nikki was hooking up with groupies, but thank you for confirming it.”

“Well,” He starts, glancing around to make sure the coast is clear before he’s pointing out, “you’re hooking up with someone else, too, so does it matter?”

He’s got a valid point and I raise my brows, deciding I can’t argue with that.

“No.” I say quietly. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

The guys are getting off stage soon enough, being brought back down from hyperventilation before starting in for tonight’s plans.

“Strip club.” Tommy and Vince say simultaneously.

“Stevie, you comin’ with?” Tommy offers  and Steven glances at me as if asking for permission although I honestly don’t care if he hangs out with them or not.

I’m just waiting for Duff to finish up his conversation with Axl and Izzy in their dressing room.

“Mick, you wanna come?” Tommy asks next, resulting in Mick glancing at Emi.

She shakes her head a little bit, barely noticeable. Barely.

Nikki lets out a shiteating laugh and I prepare for what’s about to happen.

“Nikki, lay off--”

“--Tommy, you shouldn’t have asked. You know Mick can’t take his mouth away from Emi’s teat long enough to make his own big boy decisions.” Vince and Tommy laugh at Nikki’s words, while Mick just lets out a heavy sigh and looks down at the ground not wanting to argue.

“Okay, Nikki, seriously, stop.” I state, glaring at him.

“Okay, Vivian, seriously, mind your own fucking business and stop being such a--”

“--Hey, everybody shut it.” Fred pops his head in, hearing an argument about to start. “Guns is riding back to the hotel with us, their ride has a flat.” He adds.

"Whoo!" Steven cheers, high-fiving Tommy.

I slip past Fred to see Axl and Duff waiting for us to get ready to go.

"Where's Slash?" I ask them, furrowing my brows a little. 

He's soon enough stumbling from the bathroom, wiping vomit from his mouth, causing me to wrinkle my nose as he mutters, "I'm right here." 

Slash was Nikki's trouble-buddy on the tour. They'd stay at the hotel bar until it closed nearly every night before hitting the town. Most of the time Tommy and Steven would tag along or split and go do something else of their own. 

Axl never really bonded with the guys as much as Izzy, Duff, Slash, and Stevie did, but everyone got along and considered each other good friends. 

Crazy how things would take a turn a couple years later.

We all wait patiently to file into the bus one by one and, of course, Vince and Tommy have girls with them while Nikki seems satisfied by just having a conversation with Slash and Izzy.

I catch myself looking for Tansy and Sparkie...until I remember they left to go score. 

All is well until Mick says something to Emi and she giggles like a school girl with a crush, and I can see Nikki's face getting red with anger as she's about to step ahead of Mick onto the bus. 

Nikki's plucking Slash's Jack bottle from his hand and pours the whiskey down Emi's jacket. 

She gasps, stopping in her tracks, horror on her face as she turns around to face him. 

"Nikki, what the hell is wrong with you?!" I demand. 

"Oops." Nikki slickly smirks, handing the now empty bottle back to Slash, who--like everyone else--is at a loss for words as Nikki cuts in line and gets on the bus before Emi can recover. 

I look at Duff, trying not to get overwhelmed with anger. 

He shrugs his jacket off, preparing to offer it to Emi so she doesn't have to wear her wet jacket. 

"Here, you can borrow mine." He tells her and she looks at him a second, tears in her eyes as Tommy, Vince, and their groupies walk around her to get inside. 

"Thanks." She mumbles, taking her wet jacket off and slipping on Duff's warm, dry one. 

"That wasn't cool." Steven mumbles about Nikki when we get on the bus, seeing him and Tommy laughing obnoxiously while Emi and Mick sit as far away as possible. 

I'm about to plop down beside Steven when I see Nikki whisper something to Tommy a couple seats ahead of us.

He smiles deviously at whatever Nikki just told him, before he's drinking a gulp of Jack and keeping it in his mouth, only to stand up, walk to the back seats, and spit it on Emi and Mick.

Nikki ruptures into sick laughter with Tommy, and I've had enough. 

I glance down at Steven's skull ring and take advantage of him not paying attention, to take it off of him, quickly. 

"Viv, what're you--"

I don't give him the time to finish his question before I've got the ring on, and I'm standing up as Tommy comes back by, punching him--his skin splitting where the heavy ring made contact.

I can tell he’s seeing red, I don’t help much when I sarcastically add, “oops.”

Everyone’s struggling to get as apart before he can slap me, Steven letting out a high-pitched scream when Tommy tries to bombard over him to get to me after Stevie pushes me on the other side of him.

Duff and Nikki get Tommy off of me and Steven, a trail of blood running down my friend’s cheek.

“Get her off my fucking bus!” Tommy demands at Fred once he comes back here to settle everyone off while Doc is behind the wheel.

“I wish someone would try to kick me off.” I threaten, knowing they wouldn’t get my ass off the bus without getting mauled first.

“Why the fuck can’t you take a fucking joke without being a fucking psychopath?!” Tommy asks me, yelling.

“You spitting a drink on them isn’t a fucking joke, just like Nikki pouring alcohol all over her isn’t a fucking joke!” I hiss back.

“If it bothered her, she would fucking speak up, Vivian, you’re not Jesus--stop trying to save everybody!” He sneers.

“She can’t speak up for herself because you assholes would try to fucking fire her!”

“And that’s none of your business if we did!”

“Both of you, shut the fuck up and calm do--”

“--I’m not calming down until you get that crazy bitch off this fucking bus.” Tommy interrupts Fred.

“Tommy, we’re not kicking her off the bus, now sit down!” Fred insists.

“You don’t have to kick me out, I’m gone.” I state, grabbing my purse, stepping over Steven’s legs to get in the aisle.

“Vivian, sit down!” Nikki orders me where he’s now standing, and I scoff in his face and shove past him.

“Vivian, please, don’t go anywhere.” Fred pleads, tired, and just wanting everyone to behave.

“I’d rather burn for an eternity than spend another minute on this bus with such sad, disgusting, strung out, drunk, bitter people!” I shout, walking to the door.

I hear several steps behind me, and I think it’s Nikki and Fred stomping after me, but I turn to see Axl, Izzy, Duff, and Steven following after me.

Slash is already passed out, oblivious to what’s been happening.

“K.” I say to Doc as he glances at me and sighs out. “Can you stop the bus and open this door?”

I thought we would get off that bus and walk to the hotel in peace, but turns out I left one fight and got into another one.

“You didn’t have to follow me, Axl, alright? I didn’t ask you to so there was no reason for you to come out here with me!” I tell him after he makes a comment about me getting them in trouble, possibly.

“No, I didn’t have to, but you’re my friend and I didn’t want you to be out here by yourself, even though you wouldn’t have to be if you would have just taken a breath and let it go instead of starting a fight, as usual!”

“We’re in Alabama, Axl! It’s not like I’m gonna get kidnapped--nobody wants to fuck me down here because I’m not related to any of them!”

“Both of you are overreacting! Vivian, you shouldn’t have punched Tommy but I understand why you did! Axl, we’re not gonna get in trouble or kicked off the tour for making sure Nikki’s wife doesn’t get snatched up! Now, can we please go to the hotel so I can get ready and go out and get some chicks of my own because I’m tired of sloppy seconds!” Steven outbursts.

Me and Axl look at each other, knowing we’re arguing over something deeper than just him getting off the bus for me.

"Axl, this is not what it looks like, alright?” Duff camly says as we get covered up.

“Not what it looks like?! Do you think I’m fucking blind, Duff, what the fuck are you thinking?! Oh, wait, sorry, you’re not!” He explodes, his face bright red.

“Axl, can you please just let us explai--”

“--You shut up, Viv! I don’t wanna hear another damn thing from you because you just proved to me you could give a fuck about our band.” He points at me. “And what you--all of us--have busted our fucking balls for is about to be completely undone over some fucking pussy?! Are you fucking me right now?!” He says to Duff.

“It’s not just ‘some pussy’, Axl.” Duff states, getting defensive.

“I swear to fucking God, Duff, if you say ‘I love her’ I’m going to--”

“--I do love her.” Duff interrupts him, and Axl’s throwing one of his rings at the wall, causing it to hit a decorative painting, breaking the glass in the photo frame, causing me to jolt a little.

“Axl, c’mon, now it could be worse.” Izzy steps into the room, sitting down on the bed next to us, rubbing his forehead.

“Could be worse? These guys--her fucking husband, Nikki Sixx, yeah, you fucking remember him--are giving us a fucking shot on this tour. And the first fucking night in…” He trails off, at a loss for words, clenching his jaw and rubbing at his face.

“It wasn’t just tonight.” I start, waiting for Axl to look at me as Duff lets out a ragged breath, waiting for Axl to scream again. “It happened back in September, too.”

“You sound awfully proud of that, Viv, you really do. Cheating on Nikki--”

“--He cheated first, Axl. And then you all hid it from me.” I snap.

“I don’t care if you fucking cheat back, Vivian, but out of all the fucking people there is to get your revenge fuck in with, you choose somebody in our band--who’s friends with the band Nikki’s in. That’s what I don’t fucking like. But hey, if you wanna go down as the whore who wrecked Guns N’ Roses’ shot, then go ahead, but if we get kicked off this tour because of you, Nikki will be the least of your worries.”

“You don’t know what I’ve been through, Axl, you don’t know the living hell I’ve been enduring for three years of my relationship, you don’t know.”

“That’s not my fault when you could’ve left him then. But you stayed and now you’re putting our necks at risk just so you can get your fucking rocks off.”

“He and I are getting divorced anyway so what the hell does it matter?”

“It’s my fucking band!” He insists. “It’s our fucking career, our fucking music, our fucking dream, all on the line over you! And if Nikki finds out, he’s not gonna be going through the technicalities of ‘well, we’re getting divorced anyway so it doesn’t matter’, he’s just gonna think of his wife getting screwed by one of his friends whose band he’s given a chance! That’s why it fucking matters!”

“Hey, this isn’t her fault, man, alright?!” Duff jumps in. “If you wanna blame someone, blame me, it’s my fault anyway! I’m the one who told her how I felt about her when she was vulnerable and shit happened!”

“Fine.” Axl says, exhaling.

“Sorry for fighting.” I mumble.

We finally get back to the hotel in an hour, managing to dodge seeing any of the guys, Fred, or Doc when we get in.

Once Duff and I are back in his room, he’s getting out of my shower while I'm aimlessly flipping through TV channels, trying to find something to watch. 

"Hey, Viv?" I hear him call and I put the remote down and step to him, leaning against the bathroom door, nothing but a towel wrapped around his hips. 

"What's up?" I ask and he looks at me. 

"I forgot my hairbrush." He tells me and I smile a little before stepping to my suitcase to grab mine while he finishes drying off and pulls his boxer shorts on, stepping into the room. "Thanks." He says when I hand it to him and he roughly goes through the strands of his hair, making me cringe. 

"Don't be so mean to your hair, Duff, geez." I comment, taking the brush from him, sitting on the bed. "C'mere." I motion him over and he playfully rolls his eyes and sits in front of me while I stand on my knees at his back and gently brush through his bleached tresses. "You need to start using more conditioner." I tell him.

"That's what Stevie tells me when he sees me struggling with it." He informs me with a chuckle. 

When I'm done, I'm putting my brush back in my bag and getting into bed, under the covers. 

"I'm sorry if this is a let down but I'm too tired to finish what we started earlier." I admit to him as he gets into bed with me and shuts the light off. 

"Tell me about it." He replies, his hand gently playing with the red strands of my hair strewn across my pillow. "And it's not a let down. Just laying in the same bed as you is well over good enough." He assures me and I look at him, smiling. 

I scoot a little closer to him, my arm wrapping around his waist, my lips kissing at his for a brief second as his arm snakes around me. 

"Goodnight, Duff." I say quietly. 

"G'night, Viv." He tells me, and for the first time in months, I sleep through the night, completely. 

I sleep through the entire day, waking up to the feeling of lips kissing up my neck, Duff’s soft hair brushing against my skin and I hum.

“What time is it?” I ask him, stretching, smiling softly as he kisses at my cheek next.

“Five o’clock.” He replies, moving to get off of me, but I wrap my legs around his hips and stop him.

“What time do we have to leave here for the show?”

“It’s an off day, remember?” He reminds me and I raise a brow.

“Oh, it is. I forgot.” I admit.

“Well, you have been asleep the whole day, so.” He brushes some of my hair from my face.

“Wanna get some room service tonight?” I offer. 

"Me and the guys were gonna hangout tonight." He explains. "But Steven already said I needed to bring you." He adds. "So if you wanna come, you can."

"Okay." I nod, rubbing my lips together. "Have you seen Nikki today?"

"He and Tommy were by the pool with Tansy and Sparkie earlier." 

"Is Tommy's cheek okay?"

"It's bruised, but I don't think it'll scar where Steven's ring got him." 

"Ughh, I'm gonna have to apologize to him for that." I mumble, looking at the ceiling. "I just wish him and Nikki would just leave Emi and Mick alone. I mean, you can't help who you like, you know?" 

"Talk to Nikki and Tommy about it." Duff suggests. 

"They'll laugh in my face if I say, 'you can't help who you like'." I state. 

"...Yeah, maybe don't say anything." He agrees after thinking on it for a moment. 

"Yeah." I giggle, kissing his cheek. "Alright, you're free." I release my legs from his waist so he can get up. "I gotta shower and get ready and I'll meet you guys. Who's room do I need to go to?"

"Probably Stevie's." He tells me, getting up. 

"Okay, I'll see you in a few minutes." I reply, getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom. 

He stops me before I can close the bathroom door, about to kiss me. 

"Babe, my breath." I lean back to avoid embarrassment. 

"I don't care." He states, pressing his lips to mine chastely. "See you in a few." He says before walking out. 

Once I get a shower and get clothes on, skipping out on doing my hair and makeup because these guys saw me look like hell for weeks when Nikki and I took those couple months apart, before I head down to Steven's room. 

When I go to knock on the door, it's cracked open already, and I peek inside to see he and the guys are nowhere around. 

"Oh-kay." I mumble, stepping inside to see if there's any sign they'll be back, like room keys, or shoes, or jackets. 

Nothing. 

I turn on my heel and head to the door when something appealing catches my eye. 

A ziplock of brownies. 

My stomach growls, and I realize I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday morning. 

"Just one won't hurt anything." I say to myself. 

Fifteen minutes and five brownies later, I'm not even hungry for actual dinner. 

I put the bag back where I got it and head downstairs to see Steven, Axl, Izzy, Duff, Slash, Nikki and Tommy at the bar. 

I don't give Tommy or Nikki a second glance before sitting next to Steven and Duff. 

"You drinking?" Izzy asks me, amused I'm sitting at the "big boy" table. 

"No." I reply. 

"You want food?" Duff asks me.

"Nah, I'm full on brownies." I explain and Slash and Steven suddenly stop dead in their tracks, mid-drink, before looking down the bar at each other, and then to me. 

"On what?" Slash asks me, cautiously. 

"She said, 'brownies'." Axl tells him. 

"Oh...from where?" Steven asks me and I furrow my brows. 

"Your room, why?" 

"Oh, okay...um, hey, I think I forgot my rubbers in my room." Steven gets off the barstool. "Slash, you wanna come with me?" 

"Nah, man, I'm--" Steven's pulling him off the stool by the back of his jacket, the two of them walking quickly to the elevator. 

Me and Duff exchange glances and follow after them, Duff's hand keeping the elevator doors from closing at the last second. 

Steven looks pained when we step in with them, eyeing the two of them. 

"What's going on?" Duff asks them, casually, wanting to get to the bottom of it. 

"Nothing." Stevie denies, shaking his head a little. 

"Steven, be honest." I add and he shrugs. 

"Nothing's going on." He says, matter-of-fact.

"Stevie--"

I'm cut off when the doors open on our floor and Steven takes off to his room, getting the door unlocked, heading to the bag of brownies with Slash on his heels. 

"Steven, what's wrong?" I ask when me and Duff catch up. 

"Oh, no." He lets out, slightly panicked. "Oh, no, no. Not good. Oh, God. Oh, I'm gonna be sick." He runs his fingers through this blonde hair. 

"Steven, what is it?" Duff asks him next. 

"She ate, like, five!" Steven explains. 

"I can get you some more brownies, Steven, it's okay." I chuckle. 

Duff looks at the brownies, then and Slash and Steven, then back at the brownies, then at me, then back at the brownies…

"Were these…? Duff asks them, raising his brows. 

"Uh huh." Steven winces out and Duff's eyes widen. 

"A-And she ate five?" 

"Yeah." 

"How much was in them?" 

"Well...there was like ten in each brownie and she had five so--"

"--You gave her fifty milligrams of weed brownies?!" 

"Of what?!" I ask.

"I didn't give them to her, she ate them herself!" Steven points out. 

"Oh, no." I say aloud.

"Oh, no" was right.

[anywhozits]

All I Really Want Chapter 4

Rating: M

Pairing: Kristanna (at some point lol)

Verse: 90s High School AU / frozen retelling

Chapter Summary: Hans and Anna go on a their first date.

Notes: This chapter has some extra warnings—there are references to and conversations about underage sex. Nothing graphic, nothing explicit. None of that will be in any chapter of this fic. However, while reading this chapter specifically, it is important to note that this is a fictional account of one character’s experience. This is definitely not meant to be a universal depiction of how adolescence is “supposed to go” or anything to that effect. Everybody has their own timelines for things like this, which is perfectly valid, and in fact, exactly how it should be—individualized.

Read on Ao3

Anna took a deep breath, sighing contentedly while smoothing out her pink silk dress. She knew Hans didn’t mean to be late or keep her waiting or whatever, but she sat here, ready, for the last twenty minutes and he said he was going to arrive ten minutes ago. But Anna didn’t even know whether to trust his word at this point.

She didn’t even know him, really. She didn’t even know what he was like…

Yeah. True. Ugh—shit. Kristoff was right. She didn’t know that much about him.

Well. Okay—his last name was Westergaard. He had 13 brothers.

Um.

He had red hair and green eyes and this really pointy nose that looked really hot and cute at the same time. Like hotute or umm maybe hute. Nah. Hotute was much better.

So, yeah. He had red hair, green eyes, and a hotute nose.

What else…

He lived in Newport Beach.

And… she also knew that…

They had a lot of fun together! They had the most fun together she’d ever had with anybody in her whole life.

And this fun, well—she moved a little quickly with him. It was her decision to take things past kissing on their second night together. And duh—kissing him brought out some kind of really nice jolt of electricity, and it felt so absolutely amazing to actually share that electricity with someone else. So, she couldn’t help it. She was happy to move… quickly. She was more than happy to. They hadn’t done everything yet, but...

Well, it meant they didn’t do much… talking, exactly.

Of course, Anna still found the words somehow in between kisses and um—other things—to monologue about whatever consumed her mind.

But Hans didn’t say much at all. About himself, at least. He still asked a lot of personal questions about her life.

Maybe she should ask him some for a change. Besides, they couldn’t make out throughout the whole dinner, either. That felt like a big no-no in such a super ritzy establishment as Five Crowns anyway. So, they had to talk.

Her stomach suddenly sank.

It was like… she was nervous?

About spending the night with her… friend… with? benefits?

But that seemed so wrong? Why would she be nervous about spending a couple hours gnawing on steak and delicious soufflé and talking with the guy she loved most?

Why did the entire concept of conversation make her want to barf on the spot?

Her stomach fell to her knees.

Maybe Kristoff was right. Maybe love at first sight didn’t exist and she was just lying to herself because she wanted it so badly and…

No. No. Kristoff was getting in her head. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything.

She and Hans would make wonderful conversation at their friends-with-benefits-dinner-date and it would be all fine and dandy and wonderful.

She’d ask him some questions. She’d get to know him. And then she’d show Kristoff! She’d show the shit out of him and that grumpy BFF of hers would be totally wrong!

Except Hans still wasn’t here. So, Anna nervously fidgeted with her dress again. She tried to smooth it out. She clipped and unclipped the two hot pink sparkly snap clips that were on either side of her middle-parted red hair.

After her seventh time fiddling with the clips, she heard the intimidating chime of the doorbell.

Thank God.

She counted to twenty-five before she allowed herself to open the door, needing him to think she had better things to do than twiddle her thumbs and wait for him.

The second she saw his handsome face, her entire bundle of nerves completely disappeared. “Hans!” She ran up to him and wrapped her arms around his neck to give him a passionate kiss on the lips. He stumbled back a little bit, not quite ready for this show of affection, probably, but he caught himself easily, finally relaxing into the kiss and bringing his hands to the small of her back.

“You ready, babe?”

She kissed him again. “Mmhmm,” she mumbled into his mouth.

“Let’s do it.”

And all of a sudden, the nerves were back. Now that she had to contemplate how they would make it through dinner before getting back to this whole smooching business.

But she gave him no inkling of any of these likely-Kristoff-induced-second-thoughts and smiled brightly. She followed him to his black Mercedes and bit her lip for the entirety of the car ride. His hand rested on her thigh, squeezing it ever so slightly.

Only letting up when they pulled off Pacific Coast Highway and into the Five Crowns Parking lot and Anna caught herself shaking.

Nervous, still.

Thankfully Hans took her hand, guiding her into the restaurant in a way that felt more… relationship-y than she was expected. This wasn’t friends. It certainly didn’t seem like friends.

Oh, crap. Maybe she needed to have this conversation with Hans tonight, too. Crap. Crapity crap crap crap. That was not at all what she wanted.

But the fact that there were about five hundred million butterflies eating away at absolutely everything in her stomach right before she was about to chow down on some delicious and expensive food that she actually really wanted to enjoy…

She should do it. Yup. She should do it. All she had to do was wait for the perfect window of opportunity and then she’d just—bam get it all out there out in the open and then they’d say I love yous for days and then go back to his car for some making out and it would be glorious and perfect and probably the best date she’d ever been on.

Wait.

Date. This was a date.

She and Hans hadn’t really… been on a date since they met in February. Not a real date, at least. They went to the movie Vegas Vacation but classically sat in the back and made out the whole time, like, so much so that she didn’t even know exactly what the plot was besides the Griswolds going to Las Vegas and oh yeah—Wayne Newton was also there at some point?

She didn’t count that as a date, exactly. Because of the lack of… talking.

And all the other times they only hung out at each other’s houses.

Which meant… this was her first date. What better time to figure out if they were hopefully something more than just friends? Because friends with benefits wasn’t really what she wanted out of any of this. She knew she should be thankful that she had love. They loved each other. That was great. But… she wanted a relationship, too.

Okay. So that was the game plan. All systems very much go.

When she looked around at the restaurant, taking in the English Tudor / nautical hybrid décor, she began to feel a little out of her element. Her silk dress suddenly became itchy. Everybody else in the restaurant had to be at least 40 years old at a minimum and she thought she must seem like a child. Her pink dress and her pink glitter snap clips and her pink eyeshadow only further proved this point.  

This made her even more nervous. Uncomfortable. It made her worry she’d never find the right opportunity to have this mature and important conversation when she felt like she was eight years old and at her father’s birthday dinner again.

But she’d try…

When they sat down next to each other at their corner booth, Anna’s stomach lurched. Still very worried. Still very young and out of place. Now was definitely not the right opportunity.

The right opportunity didn’t arise when they ordered their French Onion Soups and Filet Mignons.

The right opportunity didn’t arise when they received their French Onion Soups, when they slurped them up, when Anna realized her breath probably reeked more than she cared to admit.

But once the French Onion Soups were cleared, once Hans placed his right arm comfortably over Anna’s shoulders, so she could lean in close… she thought maybe now was the time.

But Hans wanted to talk, too.

“What classes are you in this year?”

This question jarred her. She hadn’t realized they somehow hadn’t covered any of this basic information in the last month. “Oh. Um. I’m taking Geometry Honors, Spanish II, World History, Conceptual Physics or whatever the freshman science is. Oh! And also, studio art because that sounded fun!” She had to take a break for a bit to catch her breath. “English I, too. But I’m not that happy about it because I really wanted Honors English but apparently that doesn’t exist for freshmen? Which seems really dumb because obviously there’s a lot of us who can handle it. I’ve already read like all of the books on our English I reading list. Like, Sense and Sensibility? Jane Eyre? Catcher in the Rye? Honestly? That feels like middle school to me but whatever.” Anna didn’t usually let that many people in on her secret middle school classic literature obsession, but once she got going she couldn’t stop herself. “Um. Sorry. I got all rambly again. I just really like English. It’s my favorite subject. If you couldn’t already tell…”

“Yeah. English is solid.”

“Mmhmm! And what are you taking?” Anna asked. “Let me guess. You look like an … AP US History guy. French III? Regular English. Ummm.. I don’t know what math. And probably um chemistry honors?”

“Close.”

“So, what is it?”

“I’m in Latin. And yep. APUSH, regular English, Chem Honors. I’m in AP Stats this year. I was so over calculus. Such a bullshit class. Tried it for a day but that bitch Ms. Maloney fucking hated me for no reason.”

“Oh. Okay.” Anna bit her lip. This was stagnating. And he was way too oddly aggressive about that calc class. Her stomach dropped again. She wanted to make sure they had the best conversation of their entire lives at Five Crowns on her first real date. “So, then what’s your favorite subject?”

“History.”

“What do you like about it?” Anna asked.

“Wars are hella dope. Cool to learn about.”

“Ah,” Anna said. “Any one in particular?” She tried her best.

“I dunno. I’ve always been into The Great War.”

“That’s World War I, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds like that’d be a good one.” Anna cringed. Her whole body tensed. She hoped he didn’t notice. This conversation felt awkward. She needed to change the subject. “And you play baseball? Any other sports?”

“Nah,” he said as he squeezed her shoulder. “You had that track meet last weekend, right?”

“Yeah. I did. All day Saturday,” she explained, leaning in closer to him. “I did the pole vault, triple jump, and a relay.”

“That sounds pretty fly.”

“Mmhmm. I guess. But…” Anna sighed. “I kinda wish I hadn’t gone. It was, like, the whole day and I came home to a message from Elsa, so. I don’t know. Maybe I’m not meant for track.”

“What’d Elsa have to say?”

“Not too much, really. It was a short message…” Anna’s voice got a little lower. “But she said she’s pretty nervous because she’s meant to hear from colleges soon.”

“Ah,” Hans said. “Well, I wish her luck.”

“Me, too.”

Anna sighed. Sustained silence fell between them for a short while. And Anna couldn’t help but realize… maybe this was her window of opportunity.

“Um… Hans?

“Wazup?”

“What… are we?”

“What do you mean what are we?”

“Oh, duh. Yeah. Well, it’s not—I don’t mean like—what are we—like humans or whatever. It’s not… deep like that,” Anna winced at her futile attempts to explain her nervous thoughts. “I just mean… what are we? You know—in our… relationship or friendship or whatever it is.”

“Oh.”

“You get it? Does that make sense? I can try explaining it again if it doesn’t…”

“I get it.”

“Okay,” she exhaled. Then inhaled. She bit her lip again. For probably the 50th time that night. “So then… what are we?”

“We’re us.”

“Right. And what is us?”

“We’re having fun. Aren’t we? Didn’t you have hella fun watching Vegas Vacation?

Anna��s cheeks flushed red. “We didn’t watch—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But didn’t you have a blast, anyway? Aren’t you having fun right now?”

“Of course I am, I just meant—”

“That’s all we’re doing, babe. We’re having fun.”

“So we’re… so you’re not my—we’re not boyfriend and girlfriend is what you’re saying?”

“We’re having fun.”

Anna could feel her heartbeat quickening. Her stomach couldn’t drop any lower than it already had.

Now they were confirmed just friends. Even though she wanted this date at Five Crowns to mark the start of something a bit more serious…

But maybe…

Maybe they didn’t need labels to be serious. Maybe they were already serious.

Thinking of this, Anna stared into his green eyes, catching some swirls of what she hoped was sincerity hidden within. “You love me though, don’t you?”

“Of course I love you, babe. I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

She smiled now, snuggling into him further, content. It didn’t matter what they were, it didn’t matter what they called themselves. They had each other. They had snuggles and smooches and smiles and now a real, legit, super-fun date and they loved each other since the very second they laid eyes on each other.

Take that, Kristoff. Mr. Grumpy-Doesn’t-Believe-in-Love-At-First-Sight man. You lost today, sucker.

She planted a gentle kiss on his lips, a kiss that deepened, continuing until their orders of Filet Mignon were placed gingerly in front of them.

Without the constant pressure of the impending scary and mature conversation, Anna gobbled up her food with ease, quickly, in fact—because she was starting to look more and more forward to the after-date than the date itself.

So much so that she considered skipping out on the chocolate soufflé entirely. And chocolate was her favorite thing in the world. Period.

Once the chocolate soufflés arrived, though, she realized that would’ve been a grave error. No way no how.

Naturally she inhaled the chocolate soufflé. In a way that left Hans laughing and laughing, trying as hard as he could to wipe the chocolate off of her mouth and her shoulders and her dress… and also the walls and some areas of the booth… safe to say, Anna had made quite the mess.

And with him touching her and laughing with her, Anna became giddy. When Hans paid with his Visa platinum and signed the check, taking Anna’s hand again and helping her out of the booth, Anna’s giddiness turned ecstatic.

He thought she was funny. He laughed at her jokes. He laughed at her antics. He helped clean up her mess.

And they had a good conversation about school and a really informative conversation about their relationship. And they loved each other, of course. That was important, too.

Still overjoyed, Anna sat again in Hans’s black Mercedes. Hans drove to one of the Crystal Cove beach parking lots. They parked the car.

The entire area was dark. Nobody was there. Not a car. Not a soul. Not even a seagull.

Anna knew where this was going.

Her heart beat quickly for a new and exciting reason.

Their lips touched with sparks of electricity; a fervent move that sent them shimmying into the backseat of the car.

Anna was no stranger to the black leather seats. She was no stranger to this position.

She’d moved quickly with him. She recognized that. But hearing a chorus of Hans’s delectable I love yous made fireworks ignite within her soul. And so, it didn’t seem quick at all. It seemed just about right. Perfect. If they loved each other on the first night, then everything naturally had to follow at lightning speed to match.

Right?

“Hey, babe?” Hans whispered in her ear, so close that it tickled her a bit and she giggled.

“Yeah?”

“Can we do it?”

She giggled again. “I mean—sure. Yeah. When were you—”

“Tonight,” he said. “Now.”

“Oh.” Anna was out of her element again. Yes, she liked moving quickly. Yes, she liked everything else they’d done, but… this? Tonight?

She didn’t think she was ready. She didn’t feel ready. Did anybody ever feel ready? Did it matter?

It was then that she realized Arendelle Academy had failed her. The school had failed them, more like. She had the period talk in the fifth grade. But since then… all she had to do was some dumb assignment about chlamydia in the Human Development class she took last semester.

That wasn’t enough. Clearly.

And here she was—terrified.

Because, sure, she knew what it meant to do it. But only because of a healthy mix of Sex and the City (Anna knew she was a Carrie), Friends, and Anna Karenina. As a curious middle schooler, Anna learned more than she’d like to admit from Anna Karenina’s spicy affair with Vronksy.

But that suddenly felt all… abstract.

It was like she knew nothing. Nothing at all. In the backseat of Hans’s car, she was about to flunk out of doing it class.

The only shred of information that remained in her brain was her vision. Her perfect, wonderful vision of how she both imagined and desired it to happen.

She pictured herself sixteen or seventeen… on her birthday. One of her favorite days of the year. After some kind of wonderful birthday surprise party all planned perfectly by her boyfriend, the two of them would dash off to a swanky hotel, and when they would get to their wonderful suite, there would be rose petals scattered around the bed. They’d have bottles of some fancy champagne… oh—and some chocolate covered strawberries, of course.

But most importantly—boyfriend. She’d said boyfriend. Obviously. Because she imagined it happening with the boyfriend she loved with all of her heart.

That was just for it, though. The Big It.

For any of the other stuff—stuff they’d already done—she never had the same kind of perfect vision. So, it was easy enough to just… full steam ahead do all of it.

But not this it. Not the Big It.

So many parts of her vision were missing. She needed it to be special. She needed it to feel like the most intimate expression of love for another person possible.

Because…well—that’s exactly what it was to her.

So she couldn’t do it tonight. Not like this. But at the same time, she didn’t want to let him down.

She didn’t want to lose him…

“I don’t know,” was all she said.

“Well, why not? We’ve done everything else. What’s the difference?”

“I want it… to be special. And I’m only—I’m, like, young. Isn’t that bad?”

“No.”

But this didn’t comfort her very much. Because she was young.

Elsa would say that she was too young.

“You don’t think it’s bad? That I’m…” Anna gulped. She worried saying the word fourteen out loud would make him see her as immature and naïve. “You don’t think I’m gonna be bad?”

“No.” He kissed her, then, romantically. Anna relaxed a bit into the kiss. “You’re gonna be great.”

“Have you ever… um—have you done it before?”

“A couple times.”

She’d figured as much, and it made her nervous. Really, really nervous. In her vision of how this should play out, it was her first time and it was her loving, doting, wonderful boyfriend’s first time, too. There were no expectations. There were no comparisons.

Her mind flashed to Kristoff, eyes crinkled and mouth wide in that wonderful smile of his.

No. Don’t do that. Don’t do that, Anna.

She needed to shake herself clear of those thoughts. Of that visual…of that desire, maybe. If that’s what it was.

No. No. It was about Hans tonight. HansHansHans. His hotute nose and his beautiful green eyes.

She loved Hans. She wanted Hans in this way, yes. She did.

It was just…

“I think I want it to be special,” Anna said, her voice small.

“This is special, babe. Just you and me here in my car… loving each other.”

“No, no, no. I mean special special. Like… really romantic special. On a really big event or a really big milestone or something. I want it to mean a lot. And I’m not saying that I don’t want to do it with you because I really, really do want to—like…I want to, and my body wants to and… I just think I need to wait um… a little bit.”

“Okay,” Hans said, sighing. “We can wait.”

Anna’s heart soared. Now she just needed a new vision of how she wanted it to go down. She figured he wouldn’t want to wait that long and really neither did she. If she really wanted him to be her boyfriend and not her friend-with-benefits then she needed to double down. She couldn’t keep him waiting for too long.

But if she were worried about being too young… and if she were worried about what Elsa would say, and she wanted it to happen on her birthday, ideally. Then… she should just say it.

“My birthday.”

“What about it?”

“My birthday. We can do it on my birthday, okay? That’s… three months away,” Anna explained. In three months, she’d be fifteen. And fifteen seemed old enough.

Right?

Right. Fifteen felt right. Her birthday felt right. Elsa had to understand. And maybe Elsa would even be proud that she waited those three months instead of diving right in.

Shit did Anna want her sister to be proud of her.

She continued, “I know it’s awhile, but. It’s an important day and we can be together, and I think… I think that’s perfect. I think then it’ll be really special.”

And then… when it happened, she just knew he’d decide he wanted to be her boyfriend for real.  

Hans nodded. “Okay. Deal. June 21st, right?”

And her heart leapt at the sheer fact that he remembered.

They made out some more. They got close, really close, to doing what he wanted, but they didn’t. He respected her wishes.

He respected her.

And when Hans dropped her off at home that night, Anna knew what she needed to do. It was late. Again. She always called Elsa so late. It was self-sabotage, really. Elsa’s world operated three hours later than Anna’s…

But she picked up the phone and dialed her sister’s number anyway.

Nothing but ring ring ring ring times infinity and then that condescending beep. Another beep… another message destined to be unanswered but not unheard.

Anna still couldn’t believe that stupid track meet had kept her away from Elsa’s once-in-a-blue-moon phone call.

“Um—Els. Hey. It’s me again. Your sister. Anna…” Anna shook her head. Elsa would recognize her voice. Duh. Anna always had to make everything so awkward. No wonder Elsa hardly ever called her back. “Um, anyway. I, uh—I’m so sorry I keep calling and I’m so sorry I keep leaving all these messages and I’m, like, the most sorry I missed your call Saturday—I wish I’d been home. I…I can’t even tell you how much I wish I’d been home…” She balled up her hands into tight fists and squeezed, hard, trying to keep a lid on all of her emotions. “It’s just—I really, really miss you and I have…” Anna knew what she wanted to tell Elsa, but she didn’t know quite how to frame it. She tried to squeeze her fists harder. “I, um—I did something. And I think…” But she couldn’t help it—her emotions had no lid. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she took a deep breath in a futile attempt to hide the trembling within her voice. “I think you’ll be really proud of me.”