#I realise it's a bit tricky to see the bottom shots clearly

[bowtiesarecool11]

The Thick Of It 2.02

Doctor Who 8.11

[wizkiddx]

supercluster

this is my entry for @hollandsrecs 'toms birthday fanfic fest' event - go check it out!!! I know its a early but im v bored so have it now. also im acc kinda really proud of this one, any feedback would be v appreciated 🤍

the prompt was: 'you and tom are best friends and you tell him that you love him on his birthday'

summary: its toms birthday but he has a few things to get off his chest and into the night sky, y/n joins in with a bit of a revelation too

best friends -> lovers

warnings: mentions of alcohol, bit angsty but promise ends all fluffy and a shit tonne of dialogue

wc: 3.5k ishhh

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Everything got a little too wild and stuffy in the living area, Haz and Harry screaming sweet caroline, whilst Greg (Tom’s stunt man) was pouring *another* round of shots. The sweatiness and clamminess of the room meant Y/n took a moment to escape, sliding out the double doors, and closing them softly behind her to ensure no one would notice her little escape. Something about the midnight air, the slightly dewy smell of the neighbouring fields, felt like it was refreshing Y/n from the inside out. When she turned around, back facing the fancy rented house, she was slightly shocked by Tom standing in the garden. It was his birthday party after all. In all honesty, Y/n felt a bit guilty she hadn’t noticed he wasn’t in the thick of it with his brothers and castmates.

His silhouette was set against the clear night sky, the stars extra prominent this evening and the moon casting a soft glow off the left side of his face, exaggerating the natural contours of his jawline and cheekbones. Clearly, he was enraptured by the sky, staring up at it with a thoughtful look on his face.

And Y/n recognised that look instantly; she knew what he was doing.

In fact, he had taught her to do precisely the same thing. As kids, the Hollands, Y/n’s family and another two families from the local area all went camping together. It was an annual event, ‘the Kingston collective camping adventure’ as Dom had named it. Y/n couldn’t remember a year when they hadn’t gone actually - it was that much of a tradition.

One year, though, when she and Tom were about 9, her mothers’ due date coincided with the camping dates. So, sensibly, the decision had been made that Y/n and her brother would just be looked after by the Hollands - whilst her mum and dad were safely tucked up in bed at home, awaiting the arrival of her littlest brother.

Y/n, her brother Alex, and Tom were all sharing a tent, and it must’ve been at least midnight that Tom was awoken by shuffling and zipping up of the tent. He’d realised she was gone through sleepy eyes and, without a second thought, went to go find her. Sure enough, she wasn’t far away, not even 50 metres from the tent, crouched on the grass. Immediately Tom’s presence had been noticed, making Y/m quickly snivel and wipe her face.

“Are you upset?”

“Go away Tom.” The comment didn’t do a lot, though; instead, 9-year-old Tom had planted himself down next to her - his pyjamas getting wet on the moist grass floor.

“Are you missing Auntie Sarah and Uncle Mike?” In the same way that Y/n called Nikki and Dom auntie and uncle, the Holland boys mirrored the nicknames for her parents. Y/n replied with a long sigh before hiccuping, failing to control the stream of tears. Yes, he was right - this was her first night away from her parents- but she wasn't about to spill her heart out to the 'stupid boy' who had stolen one of her marshmallows that evening. Tom’s little brown eyes swelled, looking slightly terrified and out of his depth, whilst with all his 9 years of wisdom, trying to come up with an answer.

“Do you want to play football to forget about it?”

Unsurprisingly Y/n shook her head violently. Tom cursed inwardly at himself for saying the wrong thing, apparently football wasn't the answer to everything. The two children went back to silence until Tom had the metaphorical light bulb moment. “My mum told me something for when I got to sleepovers? Look!” He grabbed Y/n’s little hand, extending it upwards towards the night sky.

“No matter where you are, you’re all looking at the same stars too, right?”

Tom jumped a little before looking over his shoulder and recognising Y/n with the softest smile that grew across his face. Y/n slowly walked to his side, arms crossed over her chest to try and keep the cold at bay, joining Tom in staring up at the starry expanse.

“How do you always know?” Tom spoke in a breathy chuckle, shaking his head slightly. It was true, she did always know - but his question was somewhat irrelevant. They'd spent most their childhood together, they were as easy to read as a children’s book to each other.

“Missing home?”

“Sort of, I got my own slice of home with the boys and-and you but… pads, mum dad yeh, feel like on your birthday your always supposed to see your family.”

Although Harry, Harrison, Sam and Y/n had managed to fly out to surprise Tom on his birthday- prior commitments meant his parents and youngest brother hadn’t been able to make it. They four arrived yesterday, greeted by a very shocked and pretty emotional Tom - who had clearly been missing the sense of home somewhat. He’d been away shooting a film, then straight away launching into press for the next spiderman movie. It had been a long while since he’d been in London - half a year in fact.

This time too, he’d been away without a single family member or friend - that was another truth he’d learnt about growing up. Your friends and family, they all get lives of their own. Tom used to be a trailblazer, the first to get a job, the one everyone was super proud of. They still were, of course, but didn’t dote on him in quite the same way - everyone had their own shit to deal with. It was yet another reason Tom wasn’t welcoming his birthday as much as he usually would.

“Your parents did always spoil you rotten.”

“They spoilt you worst and you’re not technically their kid.” Y/n rolled her eyes, even if it might slightly true - muttering a ‘touche’ at the brown-haired boy next to her. Their families had always been close; naturally the adults seemed to gravitate more to the kids that weren’t their own. The ones who you could ‘give back’ at the end of the day. It just so happened Nikki and Dom had always loved having Y/n around, maybe a bit more than anyone else.

“Have you had a good birthday then? You should be in there with Greg pouring that shitty vodka down your throat.” Y/n questioned, whilst shrugging back toward the house, the dull thump of Jacob's playlist just audible. Still, both stared upwards, standing close enough that their upper arms were both pressed up against each other. She expected a jovial answer, but even from his tone, it was evident there was something up. He sounded…weary?

“I’m bloody glad you all came...don’t get me wrong, I love Z and Jacob and everyone but….”

“Shitty week?”

“Shitty birthday week of promo and press.” Tom scathed, and Y/n nodded. Even if she couldn’t understand what was so bad about press, she knew that Tom hated it passionately. And in the same way, he loved all his castmates dearly, but they hadn’t known him his whole life. They didn’t understand why he did every little thing; their values lay just that bit apart. It just wasn’t the same as being surrounded with his family - you and Harrison adopted Hollands too.

“I just feel like I’ve spent all week trapped in a room answering the most stupid, irrelevant and inconsequential questions... Everything’s just so surface level and fake and, and I-“He cut himself off, for the first time meeting Y/n’s eyes. In all honesty, Tom got a bit caught up in the stars reflecting off her piercing y/e/c eyes before changing tack.

“Will you do me a favour?”

This wasn’t spoken with the normal Tom tone. It wasn’t joking or jovial; it wasn’t an ‘off the tongue’ thing. This was spoken with such seriousness and gravitas coming from his deep voice that Y/n replied equally truthfully.

“Always T, you know that.”

“Will you please ask me a personal and serious and deep question?”

She got where he was coming from too.

Clearly, even though the evening was supposed to be a light piss up in celebration, it had instead unearthed some darker thoughts that Tom had been harbouring away. Perhaps he never even realised he needed such seriousness, or perhaps with his castmates he hadn’t felt comfortable exposing himself like that. Either way, Y/n was going to respect him now. It was technically his birthday, too; the clocks had already struck 12 - it was now his day.

It wasn’t tricky to think of one; she’d often wondered the same question of him - never with the opportunity to ask. The question popped into her head again, almost as soon as Tom asked for one.

“Okay…. What’s your deepest regret that makes you feel guilty for feeling because in the grand scheme of things, it minor? Like such a 'first world problem'." What do you regret that’s just completely selfish?”

Tom immediately stiffened, his jaw tensing as he worked through his thoughts in his head. Scared she’d pushed it too far, Y/n averted her gaze back to the sky, chewing her bottom lip slightly. It took a moment, but then she saw Tom turn towards her, in the peripheries of her vision. With a tightly closed-lip smirk on his face he joked “If your gonna ask questions like that, we better sit down.”

And so they did, both sitting crossed legged on the ground, knees brushing against each other. Just on the grass lawn, almost mirroring themselves all those years ago as kids in that camping site. Y/n wondered if she should offer to play football instead - to cheer him up.

“Missing out. I miss out months at a time. Miss out on seeing mum and dad, miss out on the pub quizzes with the boys, miss out seeing you… I mean, I didn’t even know you had a new job until you mentioned it this morning. I miss out on time with nana Tess and all my grandparents, and that’s scary cos… well, every time I go, it could be the last time… I don’t know, I just… I get so much, get to travel, to see the world, but… sometimes it feels like I’m sacrificing the foundations. And without the foundations….”

“The walls come crumbling down.” Y/n finished off his sentence quietly, barely whispering the words - but from Tom’s nod of agreement, it seemed like she’d hit the nail on the head. There was silence for a beat till Y/n whispered to him.

“Well, happy birthday to you” Trying to bring the mood up a little, she bumped his shoulder, and Tom chuckled breathily.

“Seriously! This is helping me out. I-I just need to get everything out and start my 25th year fresh.”

“Hey, if that’s all you want, I’m getting a refund on my present- we can just get deep and interview each other.”

“I’m game, except I’m keeping the present too.”

“Just because it’s your birthday and I’m a bit tipsy, I’ll allow it.”

“Okay, well then, Y/n L/n”, He spoke formally, leaning in closer and making her giggle a little. “What’s your biggest regret?”

“Honestly?” Tom just repeated her in reply, but this time it was a statement.

"Honestly."

He really was going deep too. No holding back now. Y/n sucked on her cheek before replying. “Not travelling with you when we were 19… I was just so determined to get to uni and start grown-up life, but… well, grown-up life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I should’ve tried to stay a kid longer, messing about on your film sets and pretending it was work. I think I would’ve learnt more from seeing the world with you.”

“Well, I am very knowledgable.”

“Shut up, you drop out- who didn't know what a drag race was.” She wasn’t wrong, and whilst yes, he had dropped out to be a film star - he was still a dropout. (with exceptionally poor knowledge of RuPaul) He scowled, then leaning back on his hands, so he was half reclined on the grass as Y/n thought of her next question.

“Whats your biggest worry?”

“Easy.” He chuffed, making Y/n furrow her brows at him. Clearly, he’d already thought of this. “That I finally settle down with the love of my life, and then the fans or press or paps ruin it.”

It made sense; every time Tom had gone public with a relationship, it had ended in a minor car crash. Typically it was also the girl who got hurt; she was the ‘victim’ in everything. Though Y/n had seen first hand the effect it had had on Tom - he never made it out damage-free.

“You make it sound like you’ve already got this dream girl queued and waiting.”

“I wish”, Tom sighed, as Y/n took the opportunity to completely lie down on the grass, staring up at the dark abyss. She’d always loved the stars and had become a bit of a geek on them as they’d grown up too- and maybe it was all down to Tom on that camping trip. Following suit, Tom copied her, his head resting on his hands that were crossed behind his head, taking in the moment of pure peace as they lay on the grass.

“You see that bright one there?” Pointing up, Y/n shimmied closer to him so that he definitely saw the same thing as her. “It’s actually not one. Look closer.” Humming, Tom shifted a bit closer, so her shoulder slotted under the side of his body just the teeniest bit. It meant he could follow her direction and squinted up at the little patch of the sky.

“ 5…maybe 6? What is it?”

“The pliedes supercluster…. basically a big group of stars that all were born from the same place- the same stellar nursery.”

“But they’re moving now?” She hummed in confirmation to his question, briefly glancing at the way his eyes were fixed on the sky. For the first time he seemed genuinely interested in hearing her stories of the stars. It usually was an eye roll and ‘you’re so lame’.

“They’re called the sibling stars… like everything in life, as they get older they drift apart but…. but to us down here? They’ll always be associated together because they have a gravitational effect on each other. They’ll always have their thing tying them together. Like an invisible string.”

“Sounds like you’re being metaphorical.” Tom chuckled, expecting a taunt back but receiving nothing except a gentle agreement.

“Theres also actually 7. The last one people can only sometimes see… it’s a pulsing star, so comes and goes.”

“They do that?”

“Yeh, and no matter what… if you can see it or not, it’s always there. Always having an impact on its family.”

Biting his lower lip slightly, Tom repositioned his head slightly, Y/n’s words taking time to be fully absorbed. He was sure she was making parallels to him. Barely there, appearing and disappearing, but always a part of the family.

“You are being metaphorical.”

“Maybe.” She whispered shortly. “Metaphors depend on who’s listening and if they draw parallels to their own life. It’s subjective. You can’t tell anyone what is and isn’t metaphor…. it takes the beauty out of it.”

“Right, sure... But if you were…. me, harry, Sam, pads, you, Haz, Tuwaine? That the 7?” Y/n held back the little smile at his words. Tom wasn’t as ‘head in the clouds’ as she was- he was literal. Also, he was bloody stubborn when he wanted to be.

“I wasn’t being metaphorical T.” He knew she was lying. She knew that he knew. But it still helped him, made him feel a bit better. That he was always, in some way, having some effect... lives always intertwined with the people he cared about the most.

“Tell me another story about another star.”

Time for the rest of the night kind of got lost. The two young adults just lay on the grass, entirely in their own little world, using each others body heat to keep themselves warm through the early hours. Neither felt remotely tired, Y/n whispering her little stories of both the myths and science of the old stars, pointing out each planet. Meanwhile, Tom listened in awe, for once not taking the mick out of her incredibly geeky hobby. Instead, he found himself getting fascinated by all the little intricacies Y/n was so passionate about.

It was only when the stars began to fade, as orangey-red hue started to seep up from the horizon the either noticed the time. It was now the morning of the next day, the house long since had turned silent behind them - presumably, everyone finally passing out shit faced.

As the stars’ light was overtaken by the rising sun, Y/n ran out of stories; the two settled into silence - neither quite ready to go to bed yet.

“It’s still my turn,” Tom spoke into the sky before pivoting his head to look Y/n in the eye, seeing the confusion in her furrowed brows. “It’s my question to ask. My turn.”

“Aren’t you sick of my voice yet?” There was absolutely no reason that they were both whispering. It wasn’t like anyone was trying to listen or that they’d disturb anyone else my talking normally. But it was nicer that way. It felt calming... intimate even.

“One more. And then you get one more… and then we really should probably go to bed.” He didn’t want the night to end; he was immensely enjoying this weird grey time between being 25 and 26. But it was cold, Tom could tell Y/n had started to feel it a little more. To be fair, she was only in a floral day dress, not much in the way of warmth. With a hum of agreement, Y/n smiled lightly at him, urging his question.

“Whats the biggest secret you’ve kept from me?”

With a bit of a scoff, Y/n sighed and closed her eyes, trying to draw some strength she wasn’t sure she had. It wasn’t like she needed to wrack her brains to come up with it - she knew instantly. Almost painfully too.

“Uhm, honestly?” Now even more intrigued, Tom nodded, using his foot for nudge hers - encouraging her to speak. “Probably how much you mean to me.”

“Oh” He couldn’t help it; the sound just slipped out his mouth without checking with his brain first. That answer had just been so unexpected. He had honestly been thinking that it would be something about how ‘fame had changed him’. After hearing that, Y/n turned her head up the sky again, feeling like her cheeks were on fire with embarrassed heat. Tom knew he had fucked up.

“No, I… I didn’t mean- just just ask me too.” With a sigh, Y/n waved off his stumbled answer as he tried to cover himself.

“This is stup-“

“Ask me!” For the first time in 5 hours, Tom spoke at an normal volume - but it felt painfully loud, like a shout.

“What’s the biggest secret you kept from me?” Her tone was defeated, but nevertheless, he answered.

“How upset I was when you didn’t come when we were 19. I got why, but it was still annoying. Felt like you were picking uni friends over me-“ At this point on any other evening, Y/n would have interjected and argued. None of this situation was normal, though, so she chose to hear him out. “- I know it’s stupid, but…. I guess that’s how much you meant an-and still mean to me too.”

There was silence for a couple minutes, waiting whilst the sun started to peep over the horizon, the lone witness to an otherwise very private conversation. That was until Y/n barely spoke, more like mouthed 2 simple words.

“I lied.” The intensity of the way Tom stared at her made Y/n wish that the sun hadn’t been so bright, that they were back in the darkness that hid her face more. “Biggest lie I’ve told you … that I’m not in love with you.”

Y/n didn’t see because she couldn’t face looking at him, but Tom’s face erupted into the most prominent, toothiest smile. Whilst Tom was enjoying the moment of being absolutely ecstatic, Y/n was waiting for a response- feeling her world come crashing in. That she'd just destroyed one of the most important friendships in her life too.

But then he said the opposite of what she thought he would.

“I lied too.”

That had her attention, whipping her head toward him as Tom rolled onto his side on the lawn, balancing with his head resting on one hand. “I lied that I’ve not been completely under your spell since we were kids at that campsite, and you were homesick.”

Y/n’s heart was literally in her mouth, brain overwhelmed but one overriding thought oh so bloody clear.

She’d lost control of everything, arching up to mirror Tom. Using one hand, she reached out to cup Tom’s jaw, to which he instinctively leant toward - until their lips were mere centimetres apart, hot breath fanning over each other.

Y/n no control as she whispered those 3 words against his lips. No control at how immediately after he pressed his to hers; no control as Tom guided her to roll on top of him, knees either side of his torso as his strong arms wrapped around her back.

Once again, time was lost between the two, only pulling apart when their lungs burned for oxygen.

“For the record, I love you too.” Grinning from ear to ear, Tom used one hand to gently stroke his thumb across her cheek, switching his focus from her left to right eye - in wonder at how the early morning sun reflected from her y/e/c irises. He’d always thought she was beyond beautiful, but when she was this close to him, with the sun rising behind her in such a way - she looked damn ethereal.

“Happy birthday T.” Nodding in agreement, Tom chuckled before finding her lips once again, whispering against them.

“Yeh, happy damn birthday to me.”

~~~~let me know what you think ;) ~~~~~

tagging: @hallecarey1 @hollandfanficlove @crossyourpeter

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Festive Fuelstop

Pairing: Mando x Reader

Warnings: None.

Summary: You, Mando and the Child end up in a small town and get pulled into their traditions.

A/n: Happy Holidays, my loves!

You walked out of the Crest and took a breath of fresh air after a week of being trapped inside the flying metal. Despite having to make an emergency landing, you were thankful that the fuel line had started leaking just to stretch your legs. You and Mando had landed on the outskirts of a charming village where the mechanic actually refused the credits that the Mandalorian offered to repair his ship.

“Oh, golly. I can’t take payment now - I haven’t made any repairs.” The man chuckled heartily and whistled for his best workers to get on the job. The repairman then focused back on the new arrivals. “Why don’t you hold on to those credits and take your family down to the markets in the meantime?”

Mando appeared to have frozen so you leaned forward and pulled his hand back, flashing a smile to the kind man.

“The markets sound wonderful - could you point us in the right direction?”

You were given instruction to follow the wooden path down the hill until you reached a clearing into the central part of town which you, Mando and the Child followed.

When you reached the bottom, the townsfolk were in a buzz carrying boxes of shiny strings and coloured balls from one part of town to the next. Homes were decorated with lights strewn across the fences and roofs, some even had a green wreaths on the front door. Adults met up with one another with a grin as they walked in the same direction while children chased each other in tow.

You and Mando exchanged curious glances. This wasn’t something either of you had come across and your confused expression caught the attention of a passerby. The man stopped before the two of you and pointed.

“Visitors?” He guessed with a smile on his face that highlighted a hidden dimple.

You returned the smile and Mando nodded, “Our ship is being repaired uphill.”

“Well then it’s in safe hands. Please, feel free to join us in the Square while you wait.” The man invited and then walked away in the same direction as everyone else. It seemed like the whole town was headed that way.

Folding your arms, you turned to the bounty hunter, “Is it bad that I want to know what’s happening in the Square?”

“We have to keep moving.” Mando reminded as he looked around the buildings. “Maybe find a diner of some sort.”

You watched as more of the townsfolk left their homes and bit your lower lip as you thought - then you heard the child croon and idea came to mind.

“If everyone’s in the same place then none of their lodgings, food or otherwise, will be open. We’ll have a better chance to blend in alongside everyone else while seeing what has everyone so excited.” You said. “And the kid might never experience this again.”

The Mandalorian cocked his head to the side when he heard you.

“Are those reasons for the kid or for you?”

You shot him a side-eye and shook your head. Without hearing his argument against the plan, you followed the crowd and - in a few minutes - his beskar arm braces were bumping beside you.

It was a short walk to the heart of the town where a large green tree gleaming with lights and decoration sat in the middle. Your jaw dropped, eyes mesmerised with the sight that you almost knocked into the woman in front of you had it not been for Mando pulling you back. As the last few people joined, you realised that it was getting too close-for-comfort for the child so you moved to a more open space a little further from the festivities.

You returned to staring in awe at the magnificence of the tree and couldn’t help but smile, “What are they celebrating?” You wondered just as a little boy zoomed past with his friends, hearing your question. He stopped before you and Mando and placed his hands on his hips.

“You must be travellers! Tonight begins the First Ice of Holly Day. We gather around the tree just before the snow begins to fall - which should be starting soon!” The young boy explained and then ran off leaving the baby to lean over his cradle and coo.

Soon? You looked up to the skies and noticed that they had now been filled with frosty grey clouds. The sun began to fade away which illuminated the lights around the entire town making everything glow. As it darkened just a touch more excitable voices began talking quickly, most of it inaudible. You were so caught up in the moment that you hadn’t realised Mando tensing up beside you until you turned to him. He looked like he was ready to be jumped. You opened you mouth to chide him when there was a joyful cry from the far side of the tree.

“Look - look! It’s snowing! Holly Day has begun!”

You , Mando and the Child looked up once more and, sure enough, small snowflakes descended upon the happy town. A chilled breeze set in and you remembered that you weren’t properly clothed from when you exited the ship a while ago. You were about to suggest finding some coats when Mando turned his head toward the clearing.

“We should head back. I don’t want to be caught in a snow storm at the base of a hill.” He told you. You glanced at the baby trying to catch the snow in his mouth and sighed. Mando was right.

You shivered slightly, dusting the snow from your shoulders. “Point made. But before we head back, I need to stop at a vegetable stall.”

“Why?”

You pursed your lips and squinted at the green womp rat in the cradle, “Because somebody keeps ‘force-flinging’ the celonslay into the refresher.” you leaned down to the baby and used the tip of your index finger to lightly press on his button nose. “Vegetables are what’s going to make you big and strong.”

You straightened back up and noticed the crowd the beginning to disperse as you looked around them to find some place that sold healthy greens.

Mando pointed over your shoulder quietly and you followed his hand to where a row of merchants stood with their goods just past the tree. You thanked him and requested that he and child stay put until you returned. The bounty hunter didn’t argue and so you ventured off to the markets. As you passed the tree you smiled once more at its beauty. A part of you wondered if Mando would oppose to having a small one in the ship. But then you thought better of it because if Mando didn’t oppose then the kid might tear it apart or worse, jam it into the refresher.

You passed the first stall which happened to be filled with florals and ‘Holly Berry Seed Pots’ and over to the second one where rows and rows of fruits and vegetables sat. Scanning the items, you spotted the celonslay and decided against purchasing it again. The Child clearly didn’t like it. As you browsed, a head popped up from behind the stall - it belonged to the man you first met upon reaching the town.

“It’s you.” You realised.

He chuckled and quirked a brow. “Twice in one day? I’m beginning to think that you’re following me.” He teased lightly and tapped his hands on the wooden counter top. “I’m glad you decided to come to the Square.”

The man inquired about how you felt about experiencing the First Ice and you told him the truth of how you adored the way it was celebrated. You both then returned to the task at hand and you asked for his suggestion on a vegetable that a baby would enjoy.

“Children are tricky to pick for.” The Merchant hummed as he looked over the available selection. “But I do have some gimer canes. If the kid is teething, he can chew on this to get important nutrients with a sweet taste. He might even do a happy dance.”

Your eyes lit up along with your smile, “That’s perfect, I’ll take four.”

“Gimer canes are fairly rare so...”

“I’ll pay you double.” You offered instantly, not bothering to discuss it with the Mandalorian.

You expected the Merchant to take the credits right away but he laughed admirably at you. “I was actually hoping that you’d come with me to the Holly Seed Planting tomorrow instead.”

As much as you wanted to stay, you and Mando were due to leave the planet in under an hour. Your shoulders visibly slackened and the Merchant seemed to have understood. He reached beneath the counter and lifted up a paper bag, handing it over to you.

“Here, consider it an early Holly Day gift.”

Slightly confused, you looked inside and saw four pieces of the rare cane. You didn’t know how to express thanks besides repeating the word in the hopes that it would be enough.

“It’s okay, really.” The Merchant said softly. “Times are strange, we may meet again.”

You flashed a smile and thanked him once more before turning to leave.

You returned to the Child and the Mandalorian shortly after and noticed the mechanic of your ship walking away from the beskar-plated man with a spring in his step and humming a tune.

“Was that...?”

“It was.” Mando sighed. “Apparently, the repairs won’t be ready until tomorrow afternoon because the mechanic doesn’t want to miss out on the ‘festivities’.”

You couldn’t really blame the creature for halting work and you looked over at the hill pathway that led to the ship. “Old fashioned camp out in the broken cargo hold?” You suggested.

“It’s getting dark and you’re exhausted. We’ll stay in town until the repairs are complete.”

This meant that you could repay the Merchant in full.

“Why are you smiling?”

You wiped the escaped emotion from your face and cleared your throat. Balancing the bag against your hip, you looked around the well-lit town, deflecting the question, “I’m sure that there’s a good lodging around here.”

And you were right, a short walk down the road landed the three of you at a comfortable inn for travellers. But as luck would have it, finding a decent sized room in the towns busiest time proved to be difficult and so, you, Mando and cradled baby were placed in a smaller, single bed compartment with extra blankets to compensate. While it was quaint, a part of you wished that you were back on the Razor Crest.

As Mando settled into the temporary sleeping quarters by checking the perimeters, you helped the kid out of his cot and onto the soft mattress. This hadn’t been the first time that there was only one bed between three individuals so you and Mando decided to take one side each to make sure that you were both well rested. And, to be involved, the Child would walk across the surface before sitting on the side that he wanted Mando to be. 

The kid cooed and then smacked his lips which reminded you that he had not been fed the since lunch. You walked over to the table by the door and dug into the paper bag retrieving a stick of the gimer cane before carefully handing it to the baby to taste.

Mando joined your side as the pair of watched the child chew on the cane with a happy squeal.

“He likes it.” Mando noted, relatively surprised. Your mouth hung open as you watched the green womp rat do a little seated ‘happy dance’.

The Merchant was right.

Speaking of the man, you remembered to tell the bounty hunter of your plans the next day, explaining - once again - that it would be a good way for the kid to learn and enjoy other customs. His sigh told you that he wasn’t thrilled but, ultimately, he resigned. “Fine but we’re leaving the moment the Crest is fixed.”

You tried to contain your smile but it slipped out which led to the Mandalorian shaking his head and heading for the bed to get some decent rest. He picked up the child and moved him to the centre before laying down on the sheets. As you watched the baby find a comfortable sleeping position against his chosen-father, you realised that you were fairly exhausted from the day. You took up the blankets that the lodging provided and laid along the empty bed space, covering yourself and the kid just before falling asleep to the burning candlelight.

When you woke to birdsong, you found that the child had switched sleeping allegiances and was now snuggled in your arms. Mando stepped out of the refresher and helped you to get ready for the day by removing the womp rat from your hold which led the child waking up with a small wail until Mando pacified him with a gimer cane.

Once all affairs were in order, you paid the lodging owner in full and left for the Merchant’s stall where the man had just farewelled a customer.

“Can I have four more gimer canes?” You wondered and the moment the Merchant saw you, he abandoned his job, rushing to the front with a smile.

“You- you’re still here.”

Nodding, you gestured to where Mando stood with the child, “Our repairs will be done this afternoon which means we can go to the Holly Seed Planting.”

The Merchant nodded and boldly took your hands when he spoke. “The Planting is in a few hours but there are things we can do before that!” He looked over your shoulder to Mando, “Tell me, friend. Have you ever gone sledding through fields of freshly lain snow under trees of light?”

Mando stared back through his visor, “Only to capture my bounty.”

The Merchant didn’t know what to make of the statement and you chuckled to lighten the air, “Sledding sounds wonderful!”

And that’s what you did. The Merchant took the three of you to a sledding field and you almost forgot about your mission to find the child’s people. Mando took the green womp rat for a ride after caving to his pleading coos while you rode with the Merchant. 

Once the snow-filled fun had run its course, you all ventured back into town for a hot meal at the local cantina and a short rest before learning that enough time had passed for the Holly Seed Planting. You and Mando followed the Merchant over to the large tree where, at its base, several plots were dug in long rows along the white frost.

“What’s so special about this event?” You asked as curiosity enveloped when you noticed people gathering in pairs.

The Merchant took your hand and pointed across, “Holly Seeds are special, they bloom fast with emotion and identical where love is pure. It’s a rare sight to see but it doesn’t make it any less fun to plant.”

“What happens to these seeds after?”

“We nurture them through the year, their roots and leaves merge until they form the Town’s next tree for Holly Day.”

If you had left the day before, you never would have learnt about something so amazing.

“Oh - I think it’s starting. Let’s go get a seed.” The Merchant told you excitably.

Mando made no effort to move quickly, instead he held onto the child and stepped back. “I think the kid and I will wait this one out.”

A part of you wished he wouldn’t remove himself but once the Mandalorian made up his mind, he often stuck to it. You focused on the Merchant once more, painting the snow with your footprints until you both collected a Holly Seed Pot each and kneeled by two empty plots.

“Okay,” The Merchant said, nestling a little closer, “so all we need to do is hold these next to each other and if everything is right, they’ll bloom.”

You held out your pot until it clinked against the Merchant’s. Almost instantly, a bud peered through the Merchant’s soil and it quickly grew into a stem ... then leaves sprang forth ... and finally, a white-petaled flower emerged, tilting forward like a bell.

You looked down at the pot in your hands and there was nothing - not even a hint of green.

You gave a dry chuckle to hide the way your heart sank, “I can’t imagine it’s good news if nothing happens, right?”

The Merchant shook his head to not worry you but you could see in his eyes that this came as a surprise to him too. Clearing your throat, you flashed him a smile and looked around the place where bursts of colourful flowers came to life. “So, what happens next?”

“Usually, we walk around and see if there are identical flowers before we plant them into the ground but...”

You noticed his eyes flicker to the various pots, clearly trying to spot his match, and placed an gentle hand over his shoulder.

“Go ahead, it’s okay.” You told him as he once told you. The Merchant hesitated briefly until you repeated yourself.

You got to your feet as he thanked you and then you watched him walk through the crowd. Glancing at your sad-looking pot, you remembered something and looked up to find your travel associates.

No green or beskar could be seen. You did, however, see the mechanic once again. He had just arrived and was talking to a friend about how he had just finished a job.

The Razor Crest must have been ready. You intended to give a farewell to the Merchant but when you saw him standing by a young woman with an identical white flower, you decided against it.

Let him have this moment. Taking the plant, you decided to blend out of the crowd and back to somewhere familiar.

—

The Merchant was kind but Mando felt his dislike for the local grow every time you were present. He blamed the whimsical nature of the town but Mando felt something envious surge in him whenever you talked about the Merchant with a smile. Then he had to spend the day watching the pair of you laugh and joke and... hold hands - Mando seriously feared that you may have been falling in love. When the Seed Planting came around, he tried to ignore the way you and the Merchant had grown fond of one other so he stood to the back of the crowd. He was blending in quite well until a sweet old lady spotted him and the child and handed him a Holly Seed Pot of his own. He tried to give it back but the woman ignored him and moved on. The Child cooed and Mando turned to see you kneeling by the snow and holding your pot against that of the Merchants.

He heard the baby croon and attempt to speak.

“I know buddy...”

The child started tapping his hands over Mando’s gloves and pulled his attention from the Jedi over to the pot in his hands.

A red flower had sprouted almost instantly while was distracted. The edges of the petals ran gold like ink.

His mind flew to what the Merchant had said about quick blooming flowers and the Mandalorian felt his heart race.

‘Fast with emotion.’ He had said.

Turning around, Mando made a quick getaway just as the townsfolk gathered to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ around the flowers. Thinking fast, he decided to head back to the ship, almost bursting into a sprint. The child had fallen asleep during the trip so when Mando finally got to the Crest, he laid the infant down before getting to work. He took the pot plant over to the carbonite chamber and shut it inside with a hiss.

—

The walk uphill was long and exhausting. There were multiple times when you considered throwing the pot behind you but something always made you rethink and forget the option. When you finally reached the Crest, you spotted Mando fiddling by the carbonite chamber and the kid asleep in his cradle. You dumped the pot on the side bench and headed past the Mandalorian for the cockpit.

“I’m ready to get out of here.” You said, climbing up the ladder. Without missing a beat, you sat in the pilots seat and prepared for take off, closing the doors of the cargo bay. You were a fast flyer so you had the ship up in lightspeed in no time only dropping out when you were several systems away. As you prepped the ship for autopilot, you heard the familiar armour behind you.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” He said gently. “The Jedi Order and the Mandalorian Way don’t give much room for romance.”

You leaned forward and flicked on two switches. A disappointed sigh escaping over the console. “I know. Sometimes, I hope for a sign that will lead me down a different path - one where I don’t walk alone. But it’s always a fools hope.”

The Crest’s engine sputtered, shaking loose a pipe above your head which made you frown when it bumped your head. “Dank farrik.” You muttered. “Can you get me something to fix this?”

The beskar helmet nodded and Mando turned down the narrow corridor. He went down the stairs to grab a wrench from his tools cabinet when a flicker of gold caught his attention.

Sitting on the bench was your Holly Seed Pot, a green stem had rose from the mud, blooming a red Holly Flower with gold trimming - just like his.

Masterlist here

[captainmeowvelwrites]

You Times Two (Ch.5)

Pairing: Marinette/Ladybug | Adrien/Chat Noir Words: 5626 Summary: Ladybug knew this was necessary. She was the Guardian. He had the Cat Miraculous. But when his suit evaporated in a glow of pale green, she sure hadn’t expected him to have something far more precious: her heart. Cross-posted: AO3 and FFN

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | ...

Recap: Previously, on You Times Two… Our boy flirted up a storm with Marinette “Just A Friend” Dupain-Cheng—and whataya know, our girl’s got game and dished the flirt right back. Some pretty sweet puns flew all over the show. And much to our dismay, yet not at all to our surprise, Adrien sought advice on how to handle Kagami “Thinks I’m Her Boyfriend” Tsurugi. (He really needs to stop doing that.) Will Sunshine Boy make use of her counsel? And will Maribug avoid her kitty’s cake offering tonight? Let’s find out, boys and girls!

 ---

Chapter Five

Adrien rummaged through his duffle bag, the scent of sweat, leather and cheese affronting his nose. "Geez," he choked, retreating from his locker to suck in a breath, "I really need to clean this thing."

Inside the bag, Plagg lounged in an empty container, rubbing his full belly. "I happen to like the way it smells."

Pinching his nose, Adrien plucked a glove from the bag with his free hand. "Hmm. I wonder why." He sent Plagg a side glance. "Maybe because it's infested with crumbs of your stinky cheese."

Plagg burped. "I give you superpowers. You give me camembert. That's the deal, kid."

Adrien rolled his eyes and smiled. "Yeah, yeah." He sniffed the glove, breathed a sigh of relief, and slipped it on. "You could at least practice clean eating." He plonked on his helmet, though didn't yet cover his face, and puffed a stray strand of blond from his eyes. "Do me a favour and don't eat my socks while I'm gone. Or Kagami's cake."

At least he didn't have to worry about Ladybug's piece. He'd stowed it away in Plagg's cheese fridge when he'd raced (or rather, when his bodyguard had raced him) by the mansion to fetch his fencing gear.

A sigh slipped from his lips, his stomach looping in knots, as the events of last night flooded his mind like a river after a sudden storm. He wondered – not for the first time – how he could've upset Ladybug.

Hopefully, she really was just a fan.

A very surprised fan.

And all going to plan, he'd make everything right at patrol tonight.

But what if he didn't?

Maybe Ladybug hated Adrien Agreste.

Maybe that's why she'd reacted to his identity so frantically, scrambling for the nearest exit.

Maybe their partnership was over.

What if she didn't even show up this evening?

The groan of metal hinges tore through the room as Adrien shoved his locker shut, hoping to trap his crazy thoughts within its four steel walls.

"You seem distracted."

He shot to full height, his eyes darting left to find a geared-up Kagami, her red-hilted sabre in hand. She stepped forward, watching him intently, and placed her free hand to his cheek.

Her smile was as warm as her touch, yet the knots in his stomach refused to subside.

"Is everything all right, Adrien?"

He guided her hand from his cheek, managing a smile. "Sorry, Kagami. I just… have a lot on my mind right now."

She tilted her head, her dark hair following suit. "We can talk about it if you'd like?"

Adrien wished it was that simple—wished he could reveal his identity, his dilemma, his troubles, everything—but if there was one thing his circumstances weren't, it was simple. Would Kagami even understand?

Adrien flashed another smile, before retrieving his sabre from a nearby bench. "Thanks, Kagami, but I'm fine. Honestly." His eyes remained on his sabre, as he flexed the hilt between his gloved hands. "I just have a few things to figure out, that's all."

"I could help if you want?" Her voice was eager, assertive, and his smile came more easily.

"Don't worry, Kagami," he said, raising his hand. "There's really no need." Or rather, no way.

Her eyes flickered to the ground, an unfamiliar expression sliding onto her face. "If you're upset, isn't it my duty as your girlfriend to cheer you up?"

He stiffened at the title, reminded of Marinette's advice less than thirty minutes back. His lips parted, but only a dry croak escaped them.

When he said nothing—or rather, nothing intelligible—Kagami took it upon herself to continue. "Have I done something to upset you?"

Adrien nearly dropped his sabre. "No, of course not," he burst with conviction, guilt biting at his brain. "I mean, uhh…" Again, that advice flitted through his mind, and this time, he seized the chance to make use of it. "Hey, are you free tomorrow? After Alya's, I mean."

For a moment, those enthralling brown eyes seemed to scrutinise him. "Well," she finally said, "I can tell Mother our one-on-one fencing session is running later than expected." The makings of a smirk played on her lips. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just thinking"—he moved to rub his neck, only to realise his gloves and helmet made that tricky—"maybe we could, uhh, go out for dinner?"

Kagami's smirk softened into a smile. "Did you have anywhere in mind?"

Only as his shoulders slackened did he realise they'd been tense to begin with. "It's"—his thoughts drifted back to that candlelit rooftop—"a surprise."

When her lips drew into a firm line, and she stole a glance at her shoes, Adrien worried she perhaps wasn't a fan of surprises. He bit his lower lip, readying himself for the bite of rejection.

It didn't come.

"Very well," Kagami said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I should let you know, I'm especially fond of seafood, Mediterranean, and a greasy slice of pizza"—she revealed a wry smile—"despite Mother's protests." Her hand slid from his shoulder, back to her side. "Also, I'm allergic to peanuts, but only mildly."

Adrien gaped, unprepared for that answer. It was stupid, really. She was… well, kind of his girlfriend. And even when she hadn’t been, she'd said yes to their trip to the ice rink.

A smile snuck across his lips. "Um – All right." He made a mental note of her preferences, already envisioning the night in his mind's eye—the scent of steadily burning candle wax, a sea of vibrant red roses, the freshness of tzatziki and succulent, spiced chicken. "So no peanuts and – uhh – it's a date, then?"

Her smile stretched in sync with her nod. "It's a date, Adrien."

His face brightened. "Then I'll see you at Alya's. We can head to dinner straight from there." Remembrance sparked in his green eyes. "And speaking of surprises, I have a small one in my locker for you." He winked. "I'll give you it after practice."

Kagami reached for his hand, threading his fingers with hers – at least, as much as their gloves allowed it. "I look forward to it."

At that, Adrien lightly squeezed her hand, unsure of which surprise she was referring to.

He didn't mind either way.

---

Marinette stared down her half-eaten cheesecake, a fork hanging from her mouth, as Clara Nightingale's "Big Bang" blasted through her computer speakers. From the corner of her eye, Tikki shimmied along to the upbeat choreography, and her lips quirked up at the sight.

She plucked the fork from her mouth and tapped it against her desk, a sigh sliding through her lips. Had Adrien given her this cake a week ago, she'd probably be giving a beetroot a run for its money.

Now?

Not so much.

Marinette knew she was being stupid. Sure, Kagami was getting a slice, but hers didn't need to taste so bitter because of it.

Guilt clawed at her chest.

Surely it was natural to feel some level of bitterness towards Kagami. She had captured the heart of the boy she'd been fawning over for more than a year. And on top of that, it turned out said boy was also her akuma-fighting partner.

Somehow, that fact only made the sting of jealousy all the more potent.

Marinette knew she had no one to blame but herself.

And she certainly had no right to be mad.

She'd had countless opportunities to tell Adrien how she felt.

But she'd always hesitated.

Kagami didn't.

And now he was hers.

Marinette sagged in her chair as memories of Weredad gnawed at her brain, a reminder that Adrien – in the guise of Chat Noir – had rejected her as Marinette.

For Ladybug, yes.

Regardless, that fact still stung like a sabre straight to the chest, even if it at least answered a question that had hounded her brain since the day she'd started crushing on Adrien: did he feel the same way?

When she wasn't Ladybug, the answer was clearly a resounding no; however, if the bits and pieces she did know from Chat Blanc were true, Adrien would accept her whole self in a heartbeat.

At first, she wasn't sure of how to feel about that… but as her mind continued to wander, she recalled the countless times she'd rejected Chat Noir, and the bite of rejection dulled. She cared deeply for Chat. He was one of her closest friends, someone she entrusted her life to every day—but all this time, she'd clung to the hope of one day pouring her heart out to Adrien. She'd been so blinded by her love for him that she'd never even considered her kitty beyond a few brief imaginings, all of which she'd dismissed the second she thought of Adrien.

Chat Noir was her partner and apparently, anything more between them – between her and Adrien – couldn't just complicate things; it could literally bring about the end of the world.

Her thoughts wandered to Luka, of the beautiful song he'd written her, of how he wore his heart on his sleeve, of how simple everything seemed when he was around.

Maybe, despite Chat Noir's unveiling, it wasn't so selfish to pursue Luka.

The knowledge of Chat's identity brought with it a sense of clarity, she realised. He'd given up on Ladybug – on her – in favour of Kagami. And as wounding as it was, she respected that decision.

After all, he deserved to be happy. She wanted him to be happy.

And she deserved happiness too.

With a resigned sigh, Marinette glanced at the bottom right corner of her computer screen.

8:14pm.

Just like that, she ceaselessly tapped her toes against the foot of her office chair. Only sixteen minutes until her patrol with Chat Noir—with Adrien.

Marinette set down her fork and offered the rest of her cake to Tikki.

She'd lost her appetite.

She staggered to her feet and started to pace, Tikki's quiet chews distant to her ears. "Just remember, Marinette," she muttered to herself, a hand pressed to her chin, "if the cake is for you, then oh darn, you're lactose intolerant. Unlike Marinette Dupain-Cheng." She shook her head. "Just don't say the last part out loud." Her hand dropped from her chin to toy with the hem of her black cardigan. "And if he asks if you're a fan, why yes, you are. But not a huge fan. Just a regular fan. Of his work. Not his face. So he doesn't get the wrong idea." She drummed her fingers against her temples, as though that'd drill these tidbits into her brain. "If you start to freak out, fall back on puns. If it worked this afternoon, it'll work this evening." She'd completed a full loop around her room. "And if he asks if you're on Instagram, the answer is definitely not. No—what's Instagram? Yes. Perfect!"

Tikki gave her a look from atop the now-empty plate. "Why would he ask that?"

Marinette sunk into her desk chair. "Well, if he thinks Ladybug's a fan of his, he might sift through his followers hoping to find her." She slapped her hands to her cheeks, picturing that very scenario. "Then he'd find me – the girl he already suspects – and realise that I am Ladybug. It'd be a total disaster!"

Tikki pursed her lips, as though fighting back a giggle. "You're his friend, Marinette. Of course, you follow him on social media." She paused to tap her lips, a few crumbs of cake spritzed around her mouth. "Besides, he already knows you're a fan of his." Seeing her chosen's face twist with horror, she quickly added, "As Marinette, I mean! And anyway, he has heaps of fans."

Marinette croaked out a groan, her head colliding with the desk.

Tikki settled near her face and placed a reassuring hand to her cheek. "Remember, Marinette, he's the same Chat Noir he was before. Not to mention you were making cake puns together only hours ago. Just don't think too hard and you'll be fine!"

"Y'know what?" Marinette leaped to her feet, sending her chair spinning. "You're right. I can do this!" Her eyes shone as she slammed her hands against the desk. "It's time to patrol Paris with Adrien Agreste! So, Tikki, spots on!"

---

The final fragments of day clung to the darkening sky, where bits of blue and pink and lilac slipped away with the setting sun.

After one graceful flip saw her perched near the edge of a slated rooftop, Ladybug glimpsed the time on her yoyo and stopped to admire the view. Up ahead, the Eiffel Tower set the evening ablaze with its fierce, yellow glow. And below, Friday night traffic meandered through the streets, the steady hum of car motors coating the air like white noise.

It was soothing, humbling, and yet somehow empowering… to stand on that quiet rooftop, but a tiny piece of a puzzle that formed such a striking city.

"Taking the scenic route, huh?"

Ladybug recognised that voice in a heartbeat. Thanks to the power of hindsight, she even considered smacking her head against the nearest chimney.

They sounded so alike.

"Quiet as a cat, I see." She didn't know when a smile had slid across her lips, but welcomed it all the same.

Chat Noir emerged at her side, silent as the evening breeze. "I'm nothing if not consistent." The smile he gave her was small, light, even timid, and all she saw was Adrien.

That thought seemed to hail an ocean of nerves and within seconds, her chest ached from the rising weight of it all. She pried her eyes from his, remembering the pep-talk she'd given herself only ten minutes prior.

Puns.

When in doubt, turn to puns.

Yes, she could do that.

"Consistent?" She spared a glance his way. "I think you mean purrsistent."

Chat arched a brow. "Who are you and what have you done with my partner?" The delighted lilt of his voice didn't go unnoticed, nor the way he leaned closer. Was he even aware he was doing it?

Oh, she certainly was.

Adrien Agreste, the boy she'd been crushing on for over a year, was being receptive to her jokes—to her.

And always had been.

That realisation brought with it a rush she was not prepared for.

"Your clawful sense of humour must be rubbing off on me." She snuck him a smirk, fighting the urge to jingle that silly bell of his.

"Clawful?" Chat threw his nose in the air, his pout as apparent as his sass. "I think you mean clawver!"

"Pawdon my ofurrsight." She giggled into her latex-covered hand.

"Well, colour me impurressed." He slipped her a curious glance. "Where'd this come from?"

She shrugged. "I guess I'm just feeling punny tonight."

"Well," Chat said, nodding with approval, "I'm furry much okay with that." His smile was steady, unwavering, as he turned to the Eiffel Tower, clearly content with admiring the view.

And what a view it was.

The way that fiery yellow glow illuminated every handsome inch of his face. How shadows splashed wherever that glow allowed them, highlighting the serene smile that lined his full lips, as it often did during quiet moments such as this. And least of all, those strikingly green eyes, as vibrant out of the mask as they were within it.

She turned away, drawing a hand to her chest.

"Ladybug?" Concern was clear in his voice. "Is something wrong?"

When she looked his way once more, the squareness of his shoulders weren't lost on her—like he was bracing for impact. Was he afraid of her answer?

No, that would imply he already knew it.

And he definitely – hopefully – didn't know the dangerous turn her thoughts had just taken.

She pursed her lips. No, this must be fear over her reaction last night. A reaction that, to her concern, had alarmed him so much he'd quite possibly bought her cake.

She had to remedy that.

"Adrien…"

When Chat's brows shot up, Ladybug was starkly reminded that he wore a mask for a reason. She slapped one hand to her lips, muffling a gasp, as her other frantically rocked through the air. "Sorry! Sorry! I am so sorry! I meant Chat!" She pulled her hands across her face, peeking up at him from through her gloved fingers. "I know I shouldn't say your name when you're— I – I mean, it's just… habit, I guess?" She bolted straight up, her hands slapping against her thighs. "I mean, not habit," she squealed. "That would imply I'm used to using your name, which I most definitely am not—"

"Hey," Chat cut her off, raising a paw. "No sweat, LB." He smiled, despite the way his brows furrowed beneath his mask. "Hearing my name while suited up… I just didn't expect it, that's all. It's not a big deal, honestly."

Those words gave her pause. "No sweat, Clumsy Girl," she could still hear him say, beaming her way and clutching his baton. "I'm learning the ropes too."

A small smile painted her lips. He'd always been so laidback, so supportive, so slow to judge.

So Adrien.

"Ladybug…" Chat eyed her closely, his lips twisted to one side. "Is something on your mind?"

She stared into his eyes—green, green, green—like rolling fields or mines of sparkling tourmaline. "Furgive me, Kitty? It's been a… long day."

Hold up.

Hadn't reassuring him been the plan?

Not the other way around.

His hand was on her shoulder, a wry smile lining his lips. "Hey, it's hard not to let it slide when you're making such meowvelous puns." He winked, then extended a hand toward the iron behemoth ahead of them, glowing brighter as night descended. "Shall we?"

She had to smile at that. With a nod, she spun the yoyo still clutched in her hand, and he followed suit, withdrawing his staff.

"Ladybugs first," Chat said, offering a princely bow as he flourished a hand toward the tower.

Come to think of it, Adrien had bowed like that on at least one occasion, when Great Uncle Cheng had come to stay. Did he make a habit of doing so both in and out of the mask?

Returning to the present, she hurled her yoyo at a far-off lamppost. "Don't mind if I do." And with one tug, she was off.

The whir of his staff, and the clank of metal against the pavement below, was enough to know he was close behind.

After a few swings on her end and a few vaults on his, they descended upon the esplanade of the Eiffel Tower, landing side-by-side, and attracting gapes and whispers from throngs of passing pedestrians.

"Wanna catch a ride?" said Chat, extending a gloved hand.

She clutched her yoyo close. "This ladybug stands on her own two feet, thank you very much."

He leaned in, quirking a brow. "Don't ladybugs have six feet?"

Ladybug gave an eye roll. "Of course, you'd know," she said, planting a hand over his face to shove him out of her bubble.

He poised his paws atop his extended staff. "I suppose I am an expert on all things Ladybug."

She shook her head, her smile as wry as his. "Race ya to the top?"

"I could"—he snuck her a side glance—"but we both know I'm faster."

Another eye roll. "Then winning should be kitten's play." Giving him no chance to answer, she flung her yoyo at a distant beam and launched off the pavement.

Wind whistled in her ears as she leaped, flipped and swung from one iron beam to the next, with such fluidity one would think she was running on auto-pilot.

Until a blur of black shot by, and Ladybug almost landed on her face instead of her feet.

Apparently, Chat Noir's stick could span the height of the Eiffel Tower if he so wished, given he was riding the dang thing all the way to the highest platform. He was soon leaning over the railing far above, offering a wave and a toothy grin.

Was it humanly possible to roll her eyes right out of her head?

That question hung near the fringes of her mind as she scaled the rest of the tower and, half a minute later, flew over the railing and onto the summit. "You sly cat," she called, huffing a wayward strand of dark hair from her face. "Your fancy stick did all the—"

Expecting Chat Noir, she froze at the stunning green gaze of Adrien Agreste. He sat on the ground, cross-legged and beaming up at her, between two familiar cartons and a dancing candle flame.

Her thoughts lurched back to that painfully romantic rooftop dinner, and she almost descended into an all-out wheezing fit right that second.

Yes, she knew his identity.

That very fact was never far from her thoughts.

But even so, this stark, sudden reminder was something she'd in no way been ready for.

"You took your time." His cheeky smirk seemed so out of place without the mask. "I even stopped by the groomers for a makeover," he said, flicking his perfect hair like something straight out of a L'Oreal commercial.

Frustratingly, all that occupied her mind in that moment was how that smirk didn't suit him.

Or perhaps, how the sight of it was so foreign to her.

And how she wished that wasn't so.

After a few failed attempts, Ladybug latched her yoyo around her waist, and gave the set-up a second glance. Adrien had set his schoolbag on the ground just behind him—he must've transformed while wearing it—and she didn't miss the loud chewing that came from within it.

"Sorry about Plagg." He rubbed his neck, smirk fading into a sheepish smile. "If there's one thing he's passionate about, it's Camembert."

"So I've heard," she somehow managed. Her hands threaded behind her, and her steps were unsteady as she approached. "So, um – what's all this?"

"Just a little treat from the best bakery in town." He waved a hand toward the empty spot across from him, and she wasn't sure if she'd sunk into that spot of her own accord, or if her legs had turned to jelly once she'd reached it.

Crossing her legs, she squeaked, "What bakery would that be?"

"The Dupain-Chengs." He tipped his head, his blond bangs swaying at the movement. "You've never been?"

Ladybug tensed. "Oh – Uhh – The one by that high school?" She gripped her knees a little too tightly. "Yeahhh, that's a bit outta the way for me. As – err – my civilian self, that is. 'Cause, y'know… we're clearly near there quite often as, uhh, ourselves." She cleared her throat, her lips sliding off to one side. "I mean, I do know the Dupain-Chengs own a bakery. My, uhh… mum's… uncle's… cousin's… step-son's… fiancée… She's, umm… a friend of theirs. That's how I knew about Marinette. I've very briefly met her and I, uhh… thought she'd make a good Multimouse." She could've facepalmed—would've, if he wasn't watching. "I mean, when I choose superheroes, I try to choose people I think will make good ones, but at the same time, I try not to choose someone I'm close to, y'know?" A strangled laugh left her lips. "'Cause that could – err – risk my identity and, well, we certainly don't want that."

Smooth, Ladybug.

Real smooth.

He opened his mouth, but she beat him to form words—because he probably had a bunch of questions after that little spiel, and answering any of them could very well dig her into a deeper hole. "So! What's the occasion?" She drummed her fingers against her knees, shooting glances between him and the cartons.

Adrien's shoulders went square, as Chat's had only minutes earlier, and in his lap, his thumbs ran races around each other. "Uhh… So… Well…" A hint of pink crept across his ears, steadily making its descent down to his cheeks. "You seemed a little upset last night and I…" He grabbed the top carton from the stack of two. "I guess I was worried that—"

"I – Yeah – Sorry about that." She chewed at her lower lip, only vaguely recalling her self-given pep-talk. Gosh, what perfect timing! "I – um – kinda freaked out a little last night."

The dubious look he gave her said it all.

Ladybug shrunk into her shoulders. "Okay, a lot." She barely resisted the urge to toy with her yoyo—because boy, had that turned out swell last night. "You see, Adrien… I, uhh – I'm kind of a fan of yours."

Seeing his eyes widen was enough to make her fly to her feet and pace. "Not, like, a crazy fangirl or anything. Like, I wouldn't go putting pictures of you all over my room"—she flicked her hands to one side, as if gesturing to some invisible wall—"because, well, that would be crazy."

She stilled, heat rising to her cheeks.

No no no no!

Why did she even say that?

Now he was going to think she – Marinette – was a crazy fangirl.

Yes, she kind of was.

But he didn't need to know that!

Ladybug turned away, hiding her reddening face. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with someone having photos of you all over their room. I mean, people do that for a whole bunch of reasons. In fact, putting photos of a celebrity – especially a model – all over your wall is just, uhh… commendable? Or, erm… dedication… to the arts? Yeah, it's that."

Upon re-facing him, she realised he'd jumped to his feet. His lips were slightly agape; his brows slowly furling.

Oh great. She was just confusing him!

"But," Ladybug squeaked, "that way of fangirling—or, err… expressing an art form—just isn't for me. 'Cause like I said, I'm just arugula—I mean, a regular fan. Of your work. Not your face." She gasped. "Not – Not that there's anything wrong with your face. Your face is perfect"—the grin she showed flipped in on itself—"ly fine. Yeah, it's perfectly fine. I – uh – just didn't know how to handle the fact my kitty is, well… you." She considered throwing herself over the nearby railing. "Sorry! That came out wrong! I – I didn't mean—"

Two arms drew her close and suddenly, she found herself gawking at the lean muscles of his neck, as he eased a hand around her waist, his other settling between her shoulder blades.

Heat swarmed across her skin. His cologne was almost palpable, sweet and spicy at once, greeting her nose and making it sing. The warmth of his touch seemed to melt through her suit, soothing her frantic thoughts and replacing them with only him.

She lost all sense of time.

Had seconds ticked by?

Maybe minutes?

If there was one thing she was aware of, it was the steadily heightening thud thud thud that emanated from his chest, as though his heart was pounding and pounding and pounding on his ribcage, throwing punch after punch, trying to burst free.

The sound verged on deafening by the time his hands found her shoulders, and he ended the embrace as though doing so was a chore. The second he’d pulled back, the crisp evening air had swarmed across her suit, yet the hands that remained on her shoulders somehow kept any shivers at bay.

"Absolutely nothing has changed, Ladybug," he said, locking his eyes with hers. "I'm still the same silly kitty I've always been. And we're still the same unstoppable team we've always been"—his bangs fell across his eyes as he stared at his shoes—"aren't we?"

He suddenly seemed unsure.

It made her insides coil. She'd already explained her reaction last night. That it was all on her. Why would he think they were no longer a team?

Ladybug eased his hands off her shoulders and to his sides, and didn't let go. "Of course, we are." She revealed a small smile, but it wavered when she was met by only silence. "What's wrong, Adrien?" Her brows creased beneath her mask, and she gave his hands a light squeeze. "You can tell me, you know."

His shoulders rose and fell, unsteady as his breaths. "I'm just—" His voice cracked, and his grip on her hands tightened. "I was worried," he whispered, "that maybe you hate me."

For a second, Ladybug was speechless, as though someone had tossed a tub of cold water straight over her. "Hate you?" she wheezed, and shook her head so fast she might've had whiplash if not for her powers. "Adrien, I could never hate you!"

Adrien's eyes shot up, hope flickering within them. "You mean it? You're not, well"—he looked away, avoiding her stare as though afraid of what it might tell—"disappointed it was me?"

"What?" That single word slid from her lips, soft and breathless. "No, not at all! Why would you even think that?"

Did he really think so little of himself?

Adrien Agreste, famous fashion model.

Chat Noir, treasured superhero of Paris.

Her perfectly imperfect partner.

"I'm sorry." His voice, like his gaze, was soft with uncertainty. "I just… misread the way you acted last night." He looked away and pursed his lips, as though wrestling over his words. "I thought… maybe you were… mad at me? Or maybe…" He laughed, but the sound was tear-jerkingly hollow. "Well, let's just say Adrien Agreste isn't half as cool as Chat Noir."

Her mouth hung open, a fog of disbelief falling over her eyes. "Isn't… half as…?" That fog soon scattered, and quiet determination dawned in its place. "Adrien, that's not true at all. I'm so sorry I made you think that!"

Adrien flashed a smile. It was small, strained, as if hastily woven by a thread that had long since been stretched too thin.

It was his brave face, she realised.

An aching lump lodged itself in her throat. "Listen here, Kitty." She slid her hands from his and in an instant, her grip on his shoulders was as firm as her stare, demanding his full attention. "Tikki once told me when I needed to hear it that with or without the suit, I am Ladybug. And the same goes for you, Adrien. You are Chat Noir, suit or no suit." Her voice was brimming with quiet affection as she continued, "You're kind… brave… determined… and you care so much about others. You're one of my dearest friends and every day, I happily trust you with my life. I can always rely on you—and not just when we're battling supervillains." She slid one hand from his shoulder to cup his cheek, and heard a soft breath suck in through his lips. "I was so upset last week for leading Hawk Moth to Master Fu. If you hadn't been there to calm me down…"

Horrifying images sliced through her mind. Of her friends, their eyes yellow and empty, their identities exposed to that despicable Hawk Moth. Of that monstrous sentimonster, its stinger shattering through Master Fu's shield like it was made of glass.

All that suffering.

All because she'd failed.

But once more, her kitty was there, placing a hand atop the one that cupped his cheek… the one that now shook against his skin.

As always, he soothed her with his touch, with his warmth, with his presence. He stared into her eyes, and she into his, and those awful images vanished.

"You're amazing, Adrien," she whispered. "You're enough and more. So much more." Her other hand slid from his shoulder to cup his free cheek. "And your Miraculous does not define you. You define it."

Adrien stared at her, his body still and his eyes wide, as though her words hadn't quite sunk in yet.

But she knew the second they did.

She knew by the way he stood taller, lighter, like a wilted flower does after rain.

She knew by the unshed tears that had his eyes shimmering like precious emeralds.

She knew when he stepped but a breath away, and she felt the soft heat of his lips on her cheek, fuelling a fierce blush that no doubt matched her mask.

He held her hands in his, and his smile alone said a million thanks.

That didn't stop him from giving two more.

"Thank you, M'Lady." Somehow, his smile was both shaky and decisive at once. "Just, thank you."

And for the first time, Ladybug saw him.

Truly, deeply, clearly saw him.

Like storm clouds parting to reveal a bright summer's day, she looked at him and saw her partner... her friend... her silly, maskless kitty.

And she sensed he was starting to see himself the same way—as two halves of a wonderful whole.

Tears blurred her vision. She blinked and blinked and blinked again, if only to capture just another second of this moment—of his face and that joy and how perfectly it suited him. How she wished it was there every second of every day, pure and real and no less than he deserved.

Adrien tilted his head, a wry smile sneaking its way across his lips. "I'll furgive you, Bugaboo," he added, "for not mentioning my purrfect sense of humour."

She slid one hand from both of his and went to flick his bell. Upon realising it wasn't there, she found herself tapping his nose instead, and smiling at the way that made him chuckle. "I thought I'd leave at least some of the belly-scratching to you."

A minute later—as she savoured her favourite cake with a now-transformed Chat Noir—Ladybug realised their patrol hadn't gone at all like she'd planned.

And she was purrfectly fine with that.

[imagine-loki]

The Golden Apple

TITLE: The Golden Apple CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 1 AUTHOR: traveling-classicist ORIGINAL IMAGINE: A Midgardian raised on Asgard.  Something, that no mortal deemed possible.

You were taken in, by the King and Queen of Asgard, as an infant.

But, you never imagined you would live out your days here.  You don’t know much about myself.  Who your parents are, where you were born, or why you were abandoned.

RATING: Some violence NOTES/WARNINGS: I have never written fanfiction before. This is my first! Please go easy on me!

I had an idea like this floating around in my head and this imagine helped spur it along. I stayed up all night writing this because I was so excited. I am changing a few things from the original imagine, I hope that doesn’t bother the original poster too much. I have a general plan for this story but who knows how well I can stick to it. Unfortunately, there is no Loki in this chapter! I hope you will understand why. Of course, he will make his ever-so-dramatic appearance in the coming chapters but I felt I needed to set this up properly. I’m borrowing a bit from other universes (e.g. the Vikings, Skyrim) because I like some of those characters too and they fit, I think. If you know these universes, I hope you enjoy the little character drops. I hope you all enjoy. 

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A light haze settled over the fjord. A chilled mother, carrying a small infant child in a sling across her chest, walks across the frozen landscape, stepping lightly on the freshly fallen snow. Lazy snowflakes float down from the clouds. The infant leans out of the safety of her mother’s sling, giggling, arms outstretched to catch one of the tiny ice crystals. She cups the snowflake in her hands, bringing them close to her face to admire the prize within but all she finds are her empty hands. Annoyed by the ice crystal’s disappearance, she tries again, determined to capture the dubious snowflake.

Her mother watches happily. The child is strong and healthy; ready for her first winter. Born in the early spring, she’d never seen snow before. The pure joy displayed in the little baby’s wonderment filled her mother with pride. The winter had come early this year. The village was unprepared and their family’s harvest was rationed heavily in expectation of a long winter. The young mother was out to spear a few fish for their cache before the ice set in. She carried a sharpened spear, enhanced by long, bone spikes tied to its tip. She came to a small stream that ran down to the fjord below. Leaning over to set down her basket, she braced the little one’s bottom with her free arm. The child waved her hands frantically, in an attempt to catch a lock of mother’s hair to play with. Having fallen for that trick ten to many times, the mother quickly straightened up, flipping her hair back over her shoulders, removing the temptation.

This may be a bit tricky, she thought.

She’d never tried to fish with the baby before. To set her down would mean risking her stumbling off into the thicket. She’d already taken her first bumbling steps and while not yet able to walk with any amount of stability, she had developed an uncanny ability to disappear rather quickly if mother didn’t keep eyes on her. She looked around for a safe place to set the child down. The baby, seemingly aware of the freedom she was about to receive, bounced mischievously in her sling, when mother’s eyes settled on the basket.

I have the perfect place for you, little one, she thought, gently placing the child into the woven basket.

The child’s glee trounced by her little prison, she pouted at the bottom of the basket. Her mother turned away proud of her ingenuity. Curious, now, to see what mother was up to, the baby struggled to stand on wobbly legs, bracing herself on the wall of the basket as she peeked over the lip. Her mother stood perched on the edge of a rock, still as the mountains around them. The water swirled about the rocks in this place, creating a small eddy for the fish to hide. The mother stood with the spear’s deadly tip poised to strike. The baby watched in awe from her prison. In a blur, her mother speared the water, sending a splash into the air. The shock of the blow to the water, sent the baby back on her bum, shaking the basket. The mother removed her spear from the water, a fat fish flopping back and forth on the end. Finishing the job with a sharp blow to the rocks, she tossed the fish near to the basket.

The baby’s fascination with mother’s work was over. She quickly sought something else to hold her attention. She began to shake the basket, whining, desperate to escape and play in this new place. Remembering the child’s toy in her sling, the mother quickly snatched it up to calm the cranky baby. Leaning over the basket, she lowered the little straw animal to her. She happily took it, occupied again for the next few minutes, at least. The child played with her little toy gleefully; a little wolf made of straw and twine that her father had given her.

The mother worked quickly, spearing several more fish and tossing them over to the basket. The clouds had thinned and the mother could just barely see the sun through them. It was nearly noon. They had been out since early this morning and the little one had been so well behaved.

It is far too quiet, she suddenly realised. Running over to the basket, she peered down at the small child curled up at the bottom, cuddling her little toy wolf. Relieved, she delighted in the momentary peace. She returned to the edge of the stream and cleaned the end of her spear in the frigid water. She turned her face back up to the sun, hoping to feel some of its warmth. Noticing the halo about the shining orb, she realised her time was up and quickly began gathering her things. She picked up the contented child and placed her back in the sling, tossing the fish into the basket and hefting it onto her shoulder. She glanced back down at the water once more. Ice crystals began to creep along the water’s surface in sharp, rigid patterns. A storm was coming.

A biting wind rolled down the mountains, billowing through the trees. The clouds began to thicken and darken, as the temperature dropped off drastically. The snow fell harder than before as the mother pulled up her hood to shield herself and the child against the wind. Trudging through the deepening snow, she saw the roof of their home on through the trees, at the edge of the forest. She let herself in through the gate.

Something’s off, she thought. The animals that normally greeted her were nowhere to be seen. Fearing they had escaped again, she rounded the back of the house to the lean-to stable. Upon entering, she found all the animals huddled in the corner of the small building. The chickens hopped up onto the goats’ backs or hid among their hooves, clucking anxiously. Even the strong horse was unnerved by the weather, his ears pinned back against his neck, pawing the earthen floor with his heavy hooves. At least they haven’t gotten out again, the mother thought, shuddering at the memory of the last time she had to chase them about the village.

The baby reached out to pet the horse but mother turned to leave before she could touch the anxious creature. They went into the house, welcomed by the warmth of the hearth. The mother placed the basket on the table and removed the baby from the sling. She was clearly hungry and reached for her mother’s breast. Sitting for what felt like the first time this day, the mother rested while the child fed. When she had had her fill, the mother set the child down on the floor on the soft fur of a deer. She gave her the toy and straightened up to start gutting the fish on the table. The wind howled against the house, shaking the rafters.

Later that evening, her husband returned from the village. He had been out hunting in the morning and selling their surplus furs in the market in the afternoon. The village itself sat on a large piece of land stretching out into the fjord. On one side, a massive mountain, the other, the water of the fjord. Longhouses, market stalls, workshops, and small homesteads dotted the landscape. One road led from one side of the village to the other along the foot of the mountain range, through the busy marketplace. The market lay at the village’s centre, facing out towards the water. At the docks, long boats sat at anchor, awaiting the melting of the thick ice. The small family lived a distance from the village centre, on a small farm just outside the safety of its borders.

“Hello, my darlings,” he greeted them, scooping up the giggling child and kissing his wife.

The baby grabbed a fistful of beard and gave it a tug. Her usual greeting. Removing the child’s paws from his beard, the father picked up another log and tossed it onto the fire, cradling the little one in his other arm.

“What a catch!” he exclaimed at his wife as she spitted two fish for them. “Fit for the gods,” he said wrapping his free arm around her waist and pulled her close, placing another kiss on her lips.

She smiled smugly at him. Wanting some attention the baby made another grab at her father’s beard. He caught her little hand before it could entwine itself in his facial hair again. He gave her a stern look but could not help but laugh at his beautiful little daughter. She showed him her toy and he gently took it and played with her, holding the little wolf to her face and making growling and howling noises. The child squealed with delight at her father’s mimicry.

The wind picked up again, slamming against the sides of the house. Mother and father both looked up and then at each other. She took the child and wrapped her in a warm blanket and put her down to bed.

“Strange for the gods to bring winter so early, don’t you think?” she prodded her husband, hoping he could explain.

“Who can say,” he mused, absentmindedly staring into space.

I’ll pray to the gods anyways, she thought.

They ate their supper in silence, listening to the howling wind. Outside, the snow swept up against the sides of the house, creating large drifts. The wind cracked through the trees, sending their branches waving in a fury. An angry thunder rolled across the land. The young couple banked the fire, ensuring it would stay lit through the night. They settled into their bed, nestled in heavy furs and blankets. In her crib, at the foot of the bed, the baby clutched her wolf to her chest wondering what sorts of wolves could be making such noise outside.

————————————————————————————————-

A sudden, loud blast woke the house. The baby cried, cowering in her crib. Mother came and scooped her up, holding her to her chest. Father jumped up, grabbing his axe as he ran to the door. He threw it open to hear the screams of the villagers.

“Stay here. Stay hidden,” he ordered and set out into the snow.

The door slammed shut in the gale. The mother could hear the screams carried up on the wind. She shuddered and clutched her baby to her chest, desperately trying to calm her. As the child’s crying died down, the mother quickly looked around. She picked up her own sword and took shelter in the back room, close to the door for a quick escape. Without the warmth of the hearth, the bitter cold set in. She had never felt cold like this. Her breath came in icy puffs of mist. The screams started up once more.

“Run! Run away!” they screamed. Some of the voices were abruptly cut off. She turned her head away from the noise, clutching her baby tighter.

A raid in winter? she thought. No one raids in the winter.

She sat as still as could be in the dark room when the door behind her suddenly burst open. She stood, sword raised, ready to strike. Her husband, wide-eyed, stood in the doorway. He took her wrist and lowered the sword, turned and yanked her out the door into the cold. Her sword fell into the snow but she could not stop to take it up again with her husband dragging her to the lean-to.

“What’s happening?” she shouted over the wind.

“Jotnar!” he shouted back.

He grabbed the horse and threw his wife and child up onto its back. He gave her the reins and shouted over the wind, “Ride down to the road!” Before she could kick the horse on, he pulled his wife close down to him, pressing his hand to her lovingly to her cheek, then gently caressing the child’s face in the sling. The baby clutched his fingers tightly, staring into his face, his gentle visage calming her as always. The mother put her hand on his cheek in an equally loving touch. He took her wrist, leaning into her touch, savouring it.

A jotunn broke through the fence. The horse reared up but the mother held on tight and moved the horse away. The father lifted his axe against the monstrous frost giant. Its blood red eyes froze the mother in the saddle while the child screamed. She watched in terror as her father engaged the beast with two fast blows, knocking it back over the broken fence. The monster countered, swinging a massive arm, encased in sharp-edged ice. The blow hit the father across his arm and back and sent him staggering towards the horse. His axe fell from his injured hand. He stared longingly up at his wife and child once more. Before she could say a word to her husband, he slapped the horse’s rump and they tore out across the yard. She turned her head to see the monster towering over her husband, arm raised to attack. They rounded the house, blocking the scene from her view but she heard its aftermath. Her husband’s agonised shriek rang in her ears. The baby screamed in her arms.

The horse leapt over the gate and galloped out through the snow. She tried to follow the outline of the path in the drifts but the horse made its own way through the drifts. The snow stung her eyes as the mother tried desperately to control the horse. The wind whipped at her hair and she hugged the screaming baby close. Weaving in and out of the trees, they rode towards the road, picking up speed. They galloped between two trees when she felt something swing by her head.  Guttural roars erupted from behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she found that what she thought had been trees, were two giant figures, one of which had taken a swing at her. The monsters did not give chase, only stood roaring at them as they fled. She faced forward again and gasped pulling back hard on the reins. The horse dug its hooves into the snow to stop before the massive frost giant looming over them. The mother and child flew over the horse’s shoulder. The mother turned to land on her back, the baby clamped to her chest. They landed in the soft snow at the giant’s feet. She screamed as his ice covered arm came down over them. She rolled out of the way just in time and staggered to her feet. The horse reared up at the beast, kicking out with its hooves. Distracted by the creature, the giant cut it down, giving the mother and child an escape.

She ran frantically through the snow. She could see more and more of the giant, blue figures running towards her, seemingly herding her towards the village. Suddenly, bright flashes shot down from the sky above, dazing her. Cacophonous blasts followed their illumination but it was unlike any thunder or lightning she had ever seen. She caught sight of another prismatic burst to her right and thought, only for a moment, that she had glimpsed armoured figures in its wake on the road. Blinded by the light and terrified by what she’d seen, she ran away from them, and into the village centre.

She took shelter behind a building in the market, looking out across the ice capped fjord. Her jaw dropped in terror as an army of frost giants stood on the opposite shore. The people panicked, scurrying through the village but there was nowhere to flee. The jotnar blocked them from bolting up the road. A horrible, roaring sound ripped through the village as a whirlwind of ice froze the fugitives in place, cutting off their screams. The mother and child sat just outside the reach of the ice. She mustered her strength and got up, running down the road in the opposite direction of the advancing frost giants.

Out of the mist came the armoured figures towards her. She leapt out of the way, dodging down a sideroad, weaving through the houses. She skidded to a stop as she spotted jotnar cutting through the sideroads towards her. Most of them were headed towards the battle but two of them sighted her. Frantically, she looked for a way out but she was blocked on all sides. She looked down at her baby, still clutching her wolf through all the chaos. Her green eyes were wide with fear, her cheeks streaked with tears.

I have to hide her, she thought.

Desperately, she searched her surroundings for somewhere to hide when her eyes landed several meters away, on a basket. They were piled high on the side of a small market stall. She glanced up at the approaching jotnar and sprinted towards the stall. She ducked below the cover of the buildings, twisting through the sideroads, trying to buy herself some time from the pursuing jotnar. She made it to the stall and placed the child inside.

“Mama!” she cried as her mother released her. She held her arms out towards her, beseeching her mother to pick her up again.

“Shh-shh, it’s alright,” her mother cooed at her, tears flooding her eyes as she caressed her daughters cheeks.

The child’s mewling lessened with her mother’s gentle touch. She held her mother’s hands, gazing up into her eyes. Her mother pressed the child’s hand to her own cheek, cherishing this last touch. Her tears froze to her cheeks but she did nothing to stop them. She heard heavy footsteps coming towards them and grudgingly, pulled away from her child, placing a lid over the basket to muffle her cries of distress. She ran out onto the road, shouting to get the giants’ attention. They chased after her back towards the fjord. Her child screamed inside the basket, hunkered down at the bottom, clutching her little wolf to her chest as hard as she could. As the mother reached the main road, pursued by the frost giants, she heard the chilling sound of the howling whirlwind once more. Turning into the ice, she sent one last prayer to the gods to save her child.

————————————————————————————————–

In the aftermath of the battle, two Asgardian berserkers walked slowly through the village, taking in the mournful scene. Humans frozen solid to the ground where they stood, huddling close together with their families or attempting to flee the chaos. The village had been annihilated in the ensuing battle between the Asgardians and the Jotnar. There were no human survivors. Even though the Asgardians had driven the frost giants back, this was hardly a victory. They walked past the figure of a frozen young woman; she seemed out of place amongst the other statues of people, turned towards the ice rather than away. The two started up a smaller road, away from the centre of the small village. The leader of the berserkers, Kodlak, walked with his long time friend and shield brother, Skjor. They looked in every house, hut, and stall for any signs of life. They found none.

“This is hopeless,” Skjor said, gesturing at the barren landscape.

“Don’t give up just yet, Skjor,” Kodlak urged him.

“There’s nothing here! No one! The frost giants killed them a-” Skjor was cut off by Kodlak’s raised hand. Annoyed, he tried again, “There’s no one lef-”

Kodlak cut him off again, shushing him. “I hear something,” he said.

“A jotunn?” Skjor asked, raising his sword.

“No,” Kodlak whispered, taking soft steps forward. He followed the little noises to a small market stall. As he approached, the noises stopped. He peeked inside the wrecked stall but saw no one.

Skjor crept by him, pressing into the stall to ensure it was clear. Kodlak rounded the side of the stall, finding nothing but stacked baskets of grain and produce. Questioning the integrity of his old ears, he began to turn away, when one of the baskets came tumbling to the icy ground. Skjor came bounding out of the stall, sword raised, turning wildly, looking for the source of the noise. From within the basket, the two warriors heard the cries of a small child. Kodlak stepped towards the basket and opened the lid, peering inside to find an infant girl cowering at the back. He reached in and pulled the little girl out. She was so small; just bigger than his outstretched hand. He straightened up and looked around for any group of frozen statues that could have been her parents. Skjor lowered his sword and looked at Kodlak.

“What do we do with her?” he asked. “Her parents are gone for sure.”

The tiny child reached up towards Kodlak, taking a fistful of his beard in her little hand. With her other hand, she reached up and touched his cheek, gnarled from countless battles over the centuries in service to the Allfather. Her tender touch melted his heart.

“I’m going to keep her,” he said.

“You’re what?” Skjor exclaimed.

“I’m keeping her,” he repeated. “We’ll take her back with us and raise her with the others.”

“But she’s mortal,” Skjor attempted to argue but he knew his effort would fall on deaf ears. He sighed, exasperated at the thought of another child rampaging through the halls. “She’s gonna need a name,” he huffed, dejected.

Kodlak stared into the little girl’s eyes and lovingly replied, “I’m going to call her Sigyn.”

[writingsofawanderingwonderer]

Katy's Everything Wrong With Bob's "Everything Wrong With CinemaSin's 'Everything Wrong With Sherlock Holmes'"

vvv Read more line here. vvv

Alternate title: Why CinemaSins shouldn't be destroyed.

Another alternate title: That One Controversial Essay That's Finally Going to Lead to Me Getting Eaten Alive by People on Twitter. Maybe.

Okay, so to get you old corks up to speed: Recently, there's been a surge, and absolute pandemic, of YouTube videos cropping up titled something along the lines of, "Everything Wrong With CinemaSin's Everything Wrong With _______", wherein the video nitpicks (their words, not mine) CinemaSins' nitpicks of a film. There have also been a bunch of comments on Twitter and YouTube saying that CinemaSins should pack up their things and hop it. To stop making their videos.

This is where I come in. And you reading this comes in.

It's hard for me to explain why I'm making this essay. Maybe it's because I want to play the Devil's Advocate in a contained, spaced environment. Maybe I want to give everyone reading this a different perspective on the matter; something to mull over and consider and take away before we decide to write something off as "bad" or "useless" or of low quality. Maybe I consider CinemaSins an old friend and I'd like to speak up for them, even though it's hard because I'm not used to voicing an unpopular opinion out loud, and I'm super-nervous about this. Maybe it's because I want to give a meta statement about how you can nitpick a nitpicker who nitpicks another nitpicker, and that continually nitpicking the next nitpicker will either create a wondrous nitpickception that we can all learn from, or spiral out of control into a lesson that nickpicking nitpickers nitpicking is a futile effort...

But for some reason, I've been overcome with a fierce desire to write this.

So, there you go. I'm making this now.

To structure this academic essay, I'm going to use an "Everything Wrong With CinemaSin's Everything Wrong With _______" video to make several counter-arguments. I'll be using Everything Wrong With "Everything Wrong With Sherlock Holmes" by Bobvids. (Thank you, Bobvids, for letting me use your video as an example. You're quite a trooper and a good sport! And I love your editing style!).

To add upon Bobvid's video's goal, this essay's goal is to nitpick a video nitpicking another video.

Nitpickception?

*cricket chirps*

Ahem. This essay's goal is also, like all my essays here, for educational purposes. Albeit, in a roundabout way.

To keep track of things, I'll add timestamps and quotes from Bobvid's video as I comment on them. I will skip over some parts of the video to prevent this essay from being over a hundred years long.

0:49 Bob: Why call them "movie sins"? One of the CinemaSins guys said it was "[...] because it's a more flexible & nebulous definition." But I guess they never realized "sins" has an extremely negative connotation. Of all the words they could've used, "sins" is the least flexible or nebulous.

Me: They're called "sins" because "no movie is without sin," as their slogan goes (the implication being that any film, no matter how beautiful, wonderful, and perfect it is, has flaws and should be discussed and acknowledged on some level. Because that's how future films grow as an art form. By learning from the past's mistakes). The word "sins" is nebulous because we all contain it, no matter how good or bad we are. He sins. You sin a little. They sin a lot. And I'm sinning right now. So it really is a flexible and nebulous definition.

1:14 Bob: Why have a movie sin timer when YouTube tells you exactly how long a video is?

Me: Because it's a reference/homage to the "gate" used in filmmaking. The "gate" is a black border placed around a piece of film or storyboard that lists the time, scene number, and name of the person who submitted the shot. When I'm animating professionally, I'm given a gate that lists these things, and every time I hand in a shot, I have to "check the gate" as the old filmmaker's term puts it, to make sure everything's in order. The gate even times the frame number (like the CinemaSins' timer and unlike YouTube's video timer), which is super important to include, because it makes it easier for a supervisor to give feedback ("Katy, could you please fix the foot-clipping issue that appears on frame 298? Thanks!"). So YouTube actually doesn't tell you exactly how long a video is (which is very, very frustrating if, like me, you like using YouTube videos as animation reference and want to scrub between individual frames without using an app like Reeview.it Player or Anilyzer)

Me: Here's an example of a film gate:

1:24 Bob: Why is the text of what's being said showing up at the bottom of the screen? Not only is it redundant, but YouTube lets you upload subtitles which is easier to do than premiere titles, lets viewers disable it if they don't need it, and also lets you edit text after the video's uploaded.

Me: Because, 1) the average YouTuber genuinely doesn't know all of YouTube's features, including toggling closed captions (seriously, I've seen several YouTube commenters complain that a person in a video was talking too fast, not realising that you can turn on subtitles and/or adjust the speed of the video. Youtube kinda makes it a wee bit tricky to find all its hidden features. Did you know that you can change the sub's font typeface, colour, and size? Did you know you can scrub through video frames using "," and "." but only sometimes? Well, now you know. You're welcome.)

Me: And, 2) Because YouTube's subtitles do not properly time (nor fit) all of its text onto the screen in full sentences if the speaker is talking fast or saying a lot, making the subtitles cut off midsentence. It is this for exact reason why it was so challenging and annoying for me to transcribe what you were saying throughout this video! And why is was MUCH EASIER for me to transcribe CinemaSins' subtitles in comparison (my typing fingers hurt soooo much right now). CinemaSins' method lets the viewer read subtitles in full and complete sentences, taking things in in a easier-to-digest way. They've also used it for gags where they change the font typeface or size midsentence to add emphasis.

Me: First image: Bobvids subtitles for CinemaSins (note how it's cut off midsentence). Second image: CinemaSins' subtitles (see how they're easier to read?).

Me: Also, why the Dickens did you subtitle CinemaSins if their subtitles are already in their part of the video? Isn't that hypocritically-and-ironically-redundant?!

1:37 CinemaSins: This film production logo is so ballsy I straight up have no idea what company it's for. But good job on being ballsy enough to NOT include your name, mystery production company.

Bob: That's Silver Pictures. You may know them from producing Weird Science, Lethal Weapon, Predator, Die Hard, Road House, Demolition Man, and The Matrix. They're allowed to have some balls.

Me: In all fairness, I literally haven't seen any of those movies you've mentioned (Weird Science looks interesting, I'll check that one out. I've now added it to my library list.) except for The Matrix, which I didn't really like due to its lack of humour and its tonal issues. So using a nameless logo really doesn't help you get more people to know about your company if they're unfamiliar with it or have forgotten what your logo looks like. So why do it? Pointless! Mad as a hatter!

2:25 CinemaSins: Robert Downey, Jr. is a handsome, fun, charismatic lead actor... who cannot do an English accent to save his life. Is it too much to ask that SHERLOCK HOLMES actually be British?

Me: I think CinemaSins is making note on "cultural appropriation," a prevalent thing in Hollywood (an American actor playing an English character), rather than literally how well an actor can do an accent. I mean, when oh when are we going to see a film where Simon Pegg plays Sherlock Holmes?! We're waiting!

2:58 CinemaSins: I don't know how good at deductive reasoning he is, but he wouldn't have been able to guess that that guy had a floating rib.

Bob: It's easy to guess considering floating ribs are the last two sets of ribs on your rib cage and are a natural part of human anatomy, which Sherlock is proficient in.

Me: It's NOT easy to deduce, considering the GUY IS WEARING CLOTHES, THEREBY COVERING HIS RIBS SO YOU CAN'T TELL IF HE HAS FLOATING RIB SYNDROME. Also, SHERLOCK IS CURRENTLY ENGAGING IN A FIGHT WITH SAID GUY. Have you ever tried to assess the state of a guy's ribs while having a fisticuff with him?

Me: Also, you used like the third Google image result that appears when you search "floating ribs," and I don't know how to feel about that, because I think you should have used the fourth Google image result instead, as that diagram illustrates things more clearly in my opinion (it shows the ribcage from the front, which was how Sherlock was viewing the man, rather than from the back).

3:21 CinemaSins: This guy seems to be late to the ceremony. He also didn't get the memo that they all didn't have to wear the hooded robes.

Bob: It's explained later that this is Lord Coward, who is using a robe to hide his identity.

Me: Yes, but WE, the audience, don't know that at this point in the film. So as we watch this for the first time, we're all thinking to ourselves, "Why aren't all the people wearing dark robes?!" Confusion that's resolved through later context is still confusion.

Me: Also, that joke made me laugh and reminded me of that absolutely ridiculous "robes scene" from the movie Dungeons and Dragons.

Me: And let's address the elephant in the room. No one like to be the one to yell "The Emperor has no clothes!" so please let me be the one to do it for you (and get eaten alive for it). The reason why so many people are jumping on CinemaSins right now in particular is because they did a Wonder Woman video. It doesn't take Sherlock Holmes to see that the timelines add up.

Me: For those people who are like me who don't really watch American superhero films* (because we're too tangled up waiting with baited breath for The Adventures of Tintin sequel, because that's the comic book hero we grew up reading), Wonder Woman was a film that was well-received after what one reviewer described as "a long line of waiting apologies."

*Me: Footnote: I've watched The Incredibles and Batman 66, and I really liked those.

Me: Because Wonder Woman was a film that's popular, CinemaSins got in a lot of trouble because... apparently, people can't handle other people poking fun at something they like.

Me: Really, people. I'm disappointed in you. You're better than this.

Me: I hope I'm wrong about this, and people are just upset over CinemaSins' fact-checking. But one has to wonder why all the nitpick comments/videos started appearing now at the same time.

Me: Maybe I'm just weird, but I love it when people poke fun at stuff I like. Even my own work. I like watch LPs of my game played by others who are making cracks at it. I've been waiting for CinemaSins to do a video on one of my favourite films, The Adventures of Tintin: The Secret of the Unicorn, but to no avail. Even CinemaSins pokes fun at itself before other people did. But many people don't seem to be able to handle neither criticism of a work that is near perfect, nor laugh at a joke at the expense of a film they like.

Me: And, not to put too fine a point on it, Bertie, but that's part of a bigger problem.

Me: CinemaSins has a right to exist. Critiquing a video game creator's work is fine, I love getting criticism, in fact. It helps artists grow. But please, stop making posts and videos saying that CinemaSins should die. It isn't decent. And stop making comments like, "CinemaSins doesn't watch the films they cover." They would have to watch the films at some stage to edit the video together.

Me: Now, Bobvid also points out some flaws that are genuinely flaws in CinemaSins' videos (to the best of my knowledge), and that's something that CinemaSins can work on to improve and grow their repertoire. It is not, however, a good reason to have CinemaSins wiped off the face of the Earth.

Me: Just because I don't like something doesn't mean it shouldn't exist. I don't like something doesn't mean it should exist. I don't like strategy games, but I'm happy others enjoy them. I'm happy strategy games are becoming successful again.

Me: And yet, some people think that visual novel games shouldn't exist. Why? Because they don't like them.

4:46 Watson: How did you see that? Sherlock: Because I was looking for it.

CinemaSins: Sherlock doesn't say, "because even though it's clear, it reflects light and is still visible to the naked eye."

Bob: Yes, you and I can see it, but that doesn't mean Watson was able to see it from his perspective. Watson was rushing Blackwood and wasn't paying attention.

Me: Due to the Kuleshov Effect, and because Watson and Sherlock are standing next to each other by the end of the sequence, we can assume that Watson can see what Sherlock sees in this shot. Crumbs, due to the magic of Prevalent Film Language, we conclude to this thought without even registering it on a conscious because of the way the sequence is shot (shot of object, followed by shot of Watson and Sherlock looking offscreen in the same direction = they are looking at said object).

Me: Also, I noticed you labelled Sherlock and Watson as "Sherlock" and "Watson," respectively, in the subtitles. For proper design unity, shouldn't you have labelled them both by their first names (Sherlock and John) or their last names (Holmes and Watson)? I'm nitpicking, but that's the point.

5:44 CinemaSins: Yeah sure. You're totally under arrest, but you can walk around without anyone holding on to you to make sure you don't try to escape.

Bob: This is showing that even police fear Lord Blackwood. Though I guess it could be a setup for one of your sh**ty jokeyjokes too.

Me: *Still sniggering from CinemaSins' gag.* *Pauses.* *Put hands on hips.* What's wrong with jokey jokes?! Even if they're afraid, they're the police. It's their job to apprehend this guy, so it looks ridiculous when they don't. It's reaching Thompson and Thomson-levels of police bumbling in an otherwise darkish action film.

Me: Details add up. If a film has a ton of tiny details that don't work, they can add up and wreck the enjoyment of the film (see videos that analyse shot-for-shot remakes, like Psycho and Beauty and the Beast to see what I mean). I know artists who have worked on Rick and Morty and have talked about meetings discussing the design of a paper cup that a character has to hold. A paper cup.

Me: I've seen Twitter people make the argument that films are not meant to be totally logical, and instead are meant to hit you on a metaphorical level (that's why Disney's Snow White works). And that CinemaSins uses logic and literalisms too much. But (at the risk of explaining a joke, which I don't like doing) remember that we as creators often pose a statement that we don't agree with to make our viewers both laugh and self-reflect on whether we are telling a truth or not. I hope this makes sense.

Me: Also of note: Bob doesn't censor swear words in the audio nor the subtitles of this video. I had to do that myself. Even though CinemaSins censors swear words. And both CinemaSins and myself have stated publicly that we're fine with swearing used in videos. We just censor them in videos/essays respectively out of consideration for others who may not like hearing them.

Me: It's also sometimes important to censor video essays in case someone wants to use the video in an academic environment, such as being shown in a film school class that has strict profanity regulations (for example, Games As Literature's YouTube videos have been known to be showcased in academic courses on Video Game Theory, which is why he tries to exclude any swearing or gore in his videos).

Me: While we're on the subject of nitpick-jokes, I'd like to take a moment here to point out that that bit where CinemaSins points out that in one of the background areas of a two-second scene in Kingsman has a paper towel roll is hung the wrong way is one of the funniest things I've seen in a long time. Seriously, I was howling when that popped up!

Me: Several people on Twitter were asking why CinemaSins was funny. While I'm highly, highly against explaining jokes ("comedy dies quickly under the microscope"), I can try to maybe go point-to-point and explain why their jokes touch the funnybone. I'll bring Powerpoint slides.

8:12 CinemaSins: While I appreciate the way this movie uses boxing to show off Holmes' superior mind, the idea that a reclusive, agoraphobic investigator would regularly participate in chaotic grimy street fights. Is beyond what my suspension of disbelief can bear.

Bob: Holmes' penchant for boxing comes straight out of Arthur Conan Doyle's original stories, so suspend that disbelief because people have been doing it since 1890.

Me: While Sherlock being a skilled boxer is indeed canon in the novels, many Doyle fans (including myself, screenwriter Max Landis, and co-creator of BBC Sherlock, Mark Gatiss) consider this to be a flaw in the Sherlock novels, as it often totally imbalances the foil relationship between Holmes and Watson. Watson is meant to be more of the brawn than Sherlock because Sherlock is more of the brains than Watson. Making Sherlock a skilled fighter makes Watson less useful. Because of this, it's perfectly accepted (and often considered an improvement) among many Sherlock fans to re-write Sherlock as being flawed at fighting (in BBC Sherlock, Sherlock is terrible at using a gun on numerous occasions, and fails miserably at trying to box the Golem in season 1, episode 3.) and even works that are heavily-inspired by Sherlock Holmes use this dynamic (Max Landis is the creator of BBCA's Dirk Gently, where Dirk can be taken down in a fight very quickly and is surrounded by friends who are physically stronger than him; and I am working on The Butler Detective, which has the detective character Mel Ambrose being physically weak in a fight, and Tuski Brown being surprisingly strong from buttle-ing).

Me: The following images are from Max Landis' Twitter account:

9:59 Preacher: You are sentenced to death for the practice of black magic.

CinemaSins: Victorian London was pretty backwards, but not that backwards. Were they? Were they?

Bob: Considering a [demonic ritual abuse] panic of our own happened in the 1980s, it's not that strange at all.

Me: Yes, but Reality is Unrealistic. There have been written accounts of farmers seeing cows spontaneously exploding, but if I had put a scene in my slice of life farming video game (The Journey of Ignorance) where a cow explodes, no one playing the game would say, "That's improbable, but realistic." They'd say it was unbelievable. As the saying goes, "Truth is stranger than fiction, because fiction has to make sense." If you want the audience to believe something that's improbable, you either have to create a fictionalised world where it seems less improbable, or you have to do what Fargo does and write a disclaimer at the beginning saying that the events are based on a true story... Even when that's not true.

Me: Also, ritual panic isn’t strange? What?

10:58 Bob: It's pronounced "sh*t," not "[BEEP]."

Me: -_- And you say CinemaSins does jokeyjokes?

Me: I feel like I need to add a swear counter or something to this video at this point. 0_o

13:27 CinemaSins: Pretty sure there would be a separate woman's jail. Right? Right?

Bob: Up until 1902, men and women were held in the same prisons in London. Quit asking rhetorical questions. And. Do. Research.

Me: What, am I supposed to crack open a bally history book every time I finish watching a bally episode of Jeeves & Wooster?

Me: Look, critiques come in all shapes and sizes. Some write in an academic style (Roger Egbert), some candidly (Jeremy Jahns), some scathingly (Ebert again), some focus on the editing side of things (Folding Ideas), the animation side (AniMat Reviews), and others write like they're a modernised version of a PG Wodehouse character from the 1930s (me).

Me: My point is, some critics, like CinemaSins, critique films as they are, as the film is playing, in the moment.

Me: You know. Like the way an average audience member watches a movie?

Me: Let them. And let CinemaSins. It's a valid method to judge a film. "It takes all sorts to build a world." There's room for critics who review films by how they captured people emotionally, but there's also room for critics who observe films on a more literal level.

Me: I feel bad about critics like who critically assess both good and bad films. They make me laugh the most with their snarky with, yet they get a lot of flak for it. One independent gave development team (we dare not speak its name, unless in hushed whispers by candlelight on a full moon) even went as far as to try and sue several critics for negatively reviewing their games. This attempt to silence the critics all led to... well... Let's just say that the Streisand Effect amuses me to no end.

Me: I know there's this dislike towards negativity and "caustic critics," but it's actually healthy to have a good whinge.

Me: If you honestly can't stand CinemaSins' negative tone, then check out their sibling channel, CinemaWins. It takes good and bad films and points out the good or awesome elements in those films.

13:50 CinemaSins: You might be thinking "Amazing sense of smell doesn't make a good superhero," and I would respond by saying, "Remember Hawkeye? He gets to be a top tier avenger and all he can do is shoot a [BEEP]ing bow and arrow."

Bob: Hawkeye has a hoverbike, f**k you!

Me: Having a hoverboard is not a skill. Shooting with a bow and arrow IS a skill. I actually have to state this? I mean, he could give that hoverbike to anyone with a compatible drivers license and they could fly it in Hawkeye's place.

Me: Or was that another one of your jokeyjokes? *Wiggles eyebrows.*

Me: Also, WHO THE HECK IS HAWKEYE?!

14:23 CinemaSins: Movie repurposes "old-timey" footage from Les Mis and Shanghai Knights.

Bob: Les Mis, Shanghai Knights and Sherloch Holmes all filmed in Greenwich. I guess it's a sin to shoot in the same location. Is this just a sh**ty jokeyjoke or a legit piece of criticism? I honestly can't tell.

Me: It's a reference/homage to Hollywood constantly filming in certain locations to do film shoots (especially Canada, due to its tax differences). You see camera crews filming stuff all the time and even handing out notices that give info on what film/show they're working on and how long they'll be there. I'm probably in the background of 257 different films and television shows simply because I'm Canadian.

Me: Canadians have very, very mixed, passionate feelings about being used to film American movies that are virtually never set in actual Canada, so I'd count this as a movie sin, yes.

14:48 Bob: Why are jokes about ejaculating allowed in these videos but cursing isn't?

Me: For the same reason double entendre jokes were allowed in 1971's "The Two Ronnies," but cursing wasn't: Because double entendre has a layer of subtext that hides its taboo nature from younger audiences (making it often "go above their heads"), but swearing doesn't. Unless you censor it in some way.

Me: The Two Ronnies' comedy sketch "Crossed Lines" literally has every other line a sex-related joke and it's considered to be a masterpiece of English double entendre. Check it out.

17:46: CinemaSins: The three main characters take down all-20-plus henchmen without the slightest injury.

Bob: By "20-plus henchmen" do you really mean six dudes?

Me: Hey, we're all allowed to hyperbole. I've been doing it like 50 times in this essay alone. :D

17:53 Adler: Moriarty. Please don't underestimate him.

CinemaSins: Irene is just saying "and we need a plot for the next movie."

Bob: Would you prefer the sequel to have a villain that comes out of nowhere, or is teased a little bit? Do all those Marvel post-credits scenes with Thanos make you really mad?

Me: I would prefer a film to be restrained enough to not sequel bait and allow itself to be its own, self-contained story.

Me: Also, sequel-baiting is slowly growing to be a hugely frowned-upon trend in films. It can smack of the creators being over-confident that they'll get enough money to warrant a sequel (The Last Airbender film anyone?) and well as manipulating the audience in an underhanded way. People are getting upset over sequel hooks, especially this year (2017) with films like King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (which was revealed to be a setup to six more films. I kid you not.), The Snowman (which was planned on being possibly a franchise. Which is ironic, since the film is literally incomplete but was released anyway), The Dark Tower (which was meant to lead to a television series), and Murder on the Orient Express (which ends with a sequel hook that, if you've read Agatha's Christie's Death on the Nile, creates a staggering plotting issue that I honestly have no idea how the writers will get around if the sequel does get made).

Me: I don't watch Marvel movies, so I don't know if Thanos makes me mad. Would he make me mad? Probably.

18:55 Bob: (Final Tally) Closing remarks: I have never seen someone simultaneously watch and not watch a film before. So thanks for that I guess.

Me: I've never had to type so much nitpicking-related stuff about a nitpicker before. Not since last Tuesday. So thanks for that I guess.

Me: No, really, thanks for that, Bob. This was cathartic. Genuinely.

Me: If people want to nitpick my nitpick of nitpicking and nitpicker who is nitpicking another nitpicker who's nitpicking a movie, please fell free to. Whatever you title it is bound to be hilarious, and I could do with a jolly good laugh.

-Katy

Also, here's Bobvid's YouTube Channel. *cough*Shameless plug he didn't ask for but I'm adding it anyway.*cough*

Bob, you've been a sweetheart. Keep making your videos.

"I hated this movie. Hated hated hated hated hated this movie. Hated it. Hated every simpering stupid vacant audience-insulting moment of it. Hated the sensibility that thought anyone would like it. Hated the implied insult to the audience by its belief that anyone would be entertained by it."- From Roger Ebert's review of North (1994)

Gee, I hope I don’t come off as too narky in this essay. This is such a big experiment. I’m so nervous about this ahhhhhhh--

[thisdaynews]

Premier League festive predictions: Lawro v singer-songwriter and Sheffield Wednesday fan Richard Hawley

New Post has been published on https://thebiafrastar.com/premier-league-festive-predictions-lawro-v-singer-songwriter-and-sheffield-wednesday-fan-richard-hawley/

Premier League festive predictions: Lawro v singer-songwriter and Sheffield Wednesday fan Richard Hawley

The Premier League’s top two meet on 26 December with Leicester looking to cut the gap on runaway leaders Liverpool.

While the Reds keep on winning – lifting the Club World Cup last week – the Foxes have fallen out of form, and have now gone three games without a win in normal play.

“Leicester had been on such a good run before then, and I just wonder if this is their little iffy period,” said BBC football expert Mark Lawrenson.

“Plus I just think Liverpool are very difficult to stop at the moment. The word I would use to describe them is ‘clinical’, and they showed that again in Qatar.”

Lawro is making predictions for all 380 top-flight matches this season, against a variety of guests.

For the games on 26 and 27 December, he is up againstsinger-songwriter and Sheffield Wednesday fan Richard Hawley,whose latest album ‘Further’ is out now.

Wednesday finished in the top seven three times in the first five seasons of the Premier League between 1992 and 1997. “Those days with Chris Waddle and David Hirst in the team are like a distant memory,” says Hawley. “But occasionally I have the great pleasure of going for a pint with David. He is somebody who is a pal, and a hero.”

Hawley, a former guitarist in Pulp and Longpigs, hails from the Steel City and is enjoying seeing the Owls flying up the Championship as they look to return to the top flight for the first time since 2000.

Wednesday have won four and drawn one of their past five matches to climb to third place and Hawley told BBC Sport: “If you are a football fan you get used to the the undulations of your team – but it is just so good to see us playing so well and for me the team we have got now is all there.

“We have got a brilliant goalie, decent defence, a proper midfield who play football not hoofball, and strikers who put chances away.

“I am a bit worried we have got Stoke, who are second-bottom, next though. It is a Sheffield Wednesday thing that we always seem to raise our game against equivalent or better teams – but then drop points against the lesser sides.”

Wednesday’s best league finish since they were relegated from the Premier League in 2000 was the fourth place they managed in the Championship in 2017. They are currently third, eight points off the automatic promotion places

While Wednesday are bidding to return to the Premier League, their neighbours and rivals Sheffield United have turned into the season’s surprise package following their promotion, and sit fifth in the table.

But Hawley, who went to watch his first Wednesday match at the age of five with his granddad, does not mind seeing the Blades back in the big time – far from it in fact.

“I am actually quite supportive, and not in a grudgingly way either,” he explained. “I like to see anything to do with Sheffield doing well.

“Obviously I want to see Wednesday get some success but I just love the city I live in. I make that fairly obvious because I make a massive point of it in pretty much everything I do.

“A couple of years ago my management were talking about me doing a concert at Hillsborough and it kind of got so far along the road.

“But then in the end I said ‘actually I don’t want to do it’ and they were asking me ‘why not? It will be an amazing event’.

“And I said ‘because a lot of my fans are Blades’. It would have been a bit of a kick in the face for them if I put on a gig at Wednesday’s ground.

Hawley’s favourite current Owls player is Barry Bannan, and he explained: “We all love Atdhe Nuhiu – who we know as ‘Big Dave’ here – because we all love a trier. But Barry has been my favourite footballer for many, many years. He is one of those players who when he is on the pitch he seems to be involved in everything, He is like a really pivotal player in the team and I really enjoy watching him.

“I’ve got loads of mates who are Blades too and the banter is worth it, basically.

“They had been in the wilderness for so long – a bit like us, or Manchester City were when they were in the third tier a few years ago – and it does test your mettle as a fan when you go through all that – it is bleak.

“I miss us not being in the same division, because you don’t get a derby – and a Sheffield derby is such a day. There is the stigma if you lose, but absolute euphoria if you win.

“Let’s just hope we can play them again next season, but I am genuinely pleased see them doing so well – just don’t tell anyone that!’

Premier League predictions – week 19 Result Lawro Richard THURSDAY 26 DEC Tottenham v Brighton x-x 3-0 3-1 Aston Villa v Norwich x-x 2-0 2-0 Bournemouth v Arsenal x-x 1-2 1-1 Chelsea v Southampton x-x 2-0 4-0 Crystal Palace v West Ham x-x 1-2 0-2 Everton v Burnley x-x 2-0 0-2 Sheff Utd v Watford x-x 0-1 4-0 Man Utd v Newcastle x-x 2-0 8-0 Leicester v Liverpool x-x 0-2 2-1 FRIDAY 27 Dec Wolves v Man City x-x 0-2 2-2

A correct result (picking a win, draw or defeat) is worth10points. The exact score earns40points.

LAWRO’S PREDICTIONS

All kick-offs 15:00 GMT unless stated.

THURSDAY, 26 DECEMBER

Tottenham v Brighton (12:30 GMT)

Tottenham were out-thought tactically by Chelsea on Sunday, could not get control of the game in midfield and finished up well beaten.

Brighton, meanwhile, became Sheffield United’s latest victims on the road, and have now won only one of their past seven matches.

It is Spurs who I am expecting to see a response from here, but Jose Mourinho will have to sort his midfield out for that to happen.

Lawro’s prediction:3-0

Richard’s prediction:3-1

Aston Villa v Norwich City

It was worrying to see Aston Villa shipping goals the way they were in Saturday’s defeat by Southampton. Dean Smith’s side have now lost four games in a row, and John McGinn’s injury is another blow for them.

Norwich also have issues at the back of course, and they also paid the price for failing to take their chances when they were 1-0 up against Wolves last time out.

I think Villa will pose the greater threat, but they cannot afford another slip up at home to a team below them

Lawro’s prediction:2-0

Richard’s prediction:Both of these teams came up from the Championship last season, and they are both struggling. This is a no-brainer for me, though, because my drummer Dean Beresford is a massive Villa fan, and his granddad Joe Beresford played for them from 1927 to 1934. He is in the process of writing a book about him at the moment and the stories are legend.

So, if I don’t say Villa are going to win, I might end up without a drummer. In any case I have always had a secret liking of Villa because of their claret and blue colours. I think that goes to the 1970s because I can always picture Andy Gray in their kit. 2-0

Bournemouth v Arsenal

Bournemouth did not offer much going forward against Burnley on Saturday, and did not even manage one shot on target.

They looked like they were at least going to get a clean sheet but the Clarets nicked it right at the end, and the Cherries have now lost six of their past seven games.

Although we have seen Eddie Howe’s side recover from bad runs like this one in the past, they have got a lot of injuries to contend with at the moment and the busy festive period is going to be especially tough on them.

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Arsenal 0-0 Everton: ‘Arteta knows the club well’ – Ljungberg

New Arsenal boss Mikel Arteta clearly has a big job on his hands and it is not just his defence that needs sorting out because the goals have dried up too.

Even so, I would expect the ‘new manager bounce’ to have an effect here.

Lawro’s prediction:1-2

Richard’s prediction:I am going to go for a really dull draw. 1-1

Chelsea v Southampton

Southampton were very impressive in their win at relegation rivals Aston Villa, but so was Chelsea’s performance to beat Tottenham.

It was a huge win for Blues boss Frank Lampard for all sorts of reasons, not least because they had lost four of their previous five league games.

Chelsea’s problem this season has been consistency and Southampton will make things difficult for them but, after beating Spurs, I don’t think they will follow that up by dropping points here.

Lawro’s prediction:2-0

Richard’s prediction:4-0

Crystal Palace v West Ham

The last time these teams met, Crystal Palace snatched a late winner at the London Stadium at the start of October, to nick a victory that spelt the end of West Ham’s good start to the season.

I am expecting this game to be just as close but this time I am going for the Hammers to edge it. Palace have got a lot of defensive injuries and they could catch up with them here.

Lawro’s prediction:1-2

Richard’s prediction:0-2

Everton v Burnley

I wonder what new Everton boss Carlo Ancelotti was thinking when he was watching his side’s 0-0 draw with Arsenal last weekend?

Ancelotti probably realises now just how big a job he has got on his hands, and Burnley are tricky opponents for his first game back in the Premier League.

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Everton 0-0 Arsenal: Ferguson ‘can’t wait’ to work with Ancelotti

If this game was at Turf Moor, it would be even more difficult but Goodison Park will be rocking and I am sure we will see a reaction from the Everton players too.

It probably would not be a bad idea if Ancelotti gave Duncan Ferguson the last word in the dressing room before the team runs out. He would make sure they were fired up and knew exactly what was expected of them.

Lawro’s prediction:2-0

Richard’s prediction:0-2

Match preview

Sheff Utd v Watford

I was impressed by Watford when I saw them lose at Liverpool 10 days ago and they backed that up with their display as they beat Manchester United on Sunday.

Nigel Pearson has taken charge and has seen two very good performances and it looks like the players have responded to him.

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Watford manager Nigel Pearson says his side ‘very badly’ needed their 2-0 win over Man Utd

The quality that the Hornets have got in their squad was never in doubt, and now Pearson has got them playing too.

Their luck is maybe starting to turn a bit as well. I can see them going to Bramall Lane, being competitive, and leaving with the points.

That is going to delight the legions of Blades fans who have pointed out to me where Sheffield United are in my league table (bottom of page) compared to reality.

When I tip them to lose it usually means they will win – but I am going to get one right one day.

Lawro’s prediction:0-1

Richard’s prediction:It is Christmas after all so I am not going to use this as an opportunity to have a little dig at the Blades, although a lot of my Wednesday-supporting mates will probably say ‘why didn’t you just slate them?’

“I am going to get loads of stick from my Wednesday mates here but, for the city’s sake, I hope they win this one. Modern football can leave you cold sometimes but Sheffield United are different. They are not just doing really well, they are the embodiment of a real-life ‘Roy of the Rovers’ story in the Premier League at the moment and they have earned everyone’s respect.

“I admire the hard work and graft they have put in to get the results they have done, and they have had plenty of shining moments along the way. Their manager Chris Wilder is a Sheffield hero too, and I think they are going to have a bumper Boxing Day. 4-0

Match preview

Man Utd v Newcastle (17:30)

I cannot believe that, after Sunday’s defeat by Watford, Manchester United manager Ole Gunnar Solskjaer came in said they had played like they were in a testimonial in the first half.

I really don’t get that. Even if you thought it, you would not say it to the press because instantly you are going to be asked ‘why you didn’t motivate them better, and get them at it?’

It tells you a lot about the character – or perhaps the lack of it – in Solskjaer’s squad that they go to Manchester City away and play extremely well, then two weeks later they are away at Watford and don’t turn up.

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Manchester United manager Ole Gunnar Solskjaer admits his side were second best at Watford

Paul Pogba will probably start in this game after coming off the bench against Watford, but I don’t see Anthony Martial is the answer down the middle.

One week he looks like a proper player, the next it feels like he has barely played the game. It is very strange.

Even so, they should still have too much for Newcastle, if they can get their tempo right.

Magpies boss Steve Bruce is doing a great job at and he will get a great reception from the fans at Old Trafford – but he will not be leaving with the points.

Lawro’s prediction:2-0

Richard’s prediction:Because of Steve Bruce’s absolutely shocking lack of loyalty to Sheffield Wednesday, I am going for Manchester United to win, 8-0.

Match preview

Leicester v Liverpool (20:00)

It is a big positive for Liverpool that they have had a week away in the sun together and, while it was not cracking the flags in Qatar, it was warmer and it was a nice change of scenery to train in.

Of course they brought home the Club World Cup too, and if you put all of that together it was perfect preparation for this game.

Leicester, who lost at Manchester City, will not roll over and they have got a decent record against Liverpool in recent years.

Most recently they gave Liverpool a good game Anfield earlier in the season, before losing late on, as well as holding them earlier this year before Brendan Rodgers took charge.

But this Reds team is a different animal, which is why I am tipping them to go to King Power Stadium and win to extend their lead at the top of the table even further.

If I am right, that would all but end Leicester’s title hopes but they would obviously still be well placed to finish in the top four.

That gives Rodgers a good argument to ask for money to spend in the January transfer window to build on their position of strength.

By bringing in a couple of new players, Leicester could cement their spot in next season’s Champions League – which would mean they make up for any outlay.

Lawro’s prediction:0-2

Richard’s prediction:This is the match that I think everyone is looking forward to. Obviously Liverpool have had such an insane season – my manager, Graham Wrench, is a Liverpool fan and I have got loads of Scouse mates, like all the Bunnymen,who are all Reds. When I was a kid, Liverpool had so many great teams and I am glad to see them back, the way they are.

Leicester are giving the title a good shout too, and looking for a repeat of the fairytale when they won it in 2016. I don’t see them as massive underdogs in this game, though, even if the points difference is pretty huge. 2-1

FRIDAY, 27 DECEMBER

Wolves v Man City (19:45)

Wolves’ half-term report is a glowing one. It is not a case of ‘must do better’, more ‘can they do any better?’

Their win over Manchester City at Etihad Stadium was one of their best results of the first half of the season, and they also showed last week against Norwich that they have the resolve to win games when things initially do not go well for them.

I am sure Wolves will again look to use the pace of Adama Traore, who scored twice against City in October, but I don’t see a repeat result.

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Manchester City 3-1 Leicester City: Pep Guardiola pleased with Man City’s comeback win

Pep Guardiola’s side have looked a lot more like their old selves with their attacking displays against Arsenal and Leicester in the past couple of weeks, scoring three times in both games.

Of course there is still a question mark over City defensively, but they will take the game to Wolves and I think they will win it.

Lawro’s prediction:0-2

Richard’s prediction:2-2

Lawro was speaking to BBC Sport’s Chris Bevan.

How did Lawro do last week?

Last weekend, Lawro got four correct results with no exact scores from nine Premier League matches, for a total of40 points.

He was beaten by Serge from indie rock band Kasabian, who got three correct results, but with one exact score, for a total of60 points.

+/- DENOTE POSITION DIFFERENCE BETWEEN LAWRO’S TABLE AND ACTUAL POSITION TEAM P W D L PTS +/- 1 Man City 18 17 0 1 51 +2 2 Liverpool 17 15 2 0 47 -1 3 Tottenham 18 13 4 1 43 +4 4 Chelsea 18 12 3 3 39 0 5 Arsenal 18 9 5 4 32 +6 6 Leicester 18 9 4 5 31 -4 7 Man Utd 18 8 5 5 29 +1 8 Burnley 18 7 3 8 24 +2 9 Aston Villa 18 6 4 8 22 +9 10 Watford 18 6 3 9 21 +10 =11 Bournemouth 18 6 2 10 20 +3 =11 Everton 18 5 5 8 20 +4 =11 West Ham 17 6 2 9 20 +5 =11 Wolves 18 6 2 8 20 -5 15 Newcastle 18 6 1 11 19 -6 16 Brighton 18 5 2 11 17 -3 17 Southampton 18 4 3 11 15 0 =18 Crystal Palace 18 3 5 10 14 -6 =18 Sheff Utd 18 4 2 11 11 -13 20 Norwich 18 0 7 11 7 -1

GUEST LEADERBOARD 2019-20

Score Guest leaderboard 160 Gabriel Luna 140 Arnold Schwarzenegger 100 Adam Peaty 90 Helen Housby, Jo Harten, Bobby Seagull, Geraint Thomas 82 Lawro (average after 18 weeks) 80 Andy Murray, Stephen Graham 70 David Baddiel, Michael Johnson, Craig Mitch, Alex Scott 60 Serge from Kasabian, Sonny Bill Williams, Stefan Ratchford 50 Chelcee Grimes, Reece Parkinson, Sam Warburton 40 Stephen Fry, Neil Jones, Tommy O’Dell 30 Seth Rollins

Total scores after week 18 Lawro 1,470 Guests 1,310

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[kisskissbadguys]

My Best Friend Jericho. Part Eleven.

SHEFFIELD

I woke up at 10:30am after a good 7 hours sleep. I finally drifted off on the coach after the song finished and then straight away in the hotel bed. It had been a long day and I had a lot on my mind but I needed sleep. I needed to wake up with a fresh feeling to conquer the day.

We were in Sheffield and I’d also never been here before either. 

The clock ticked 11:30 and I decided to go downstairs in the main hall of the lobby where everyone seemed to have gathered. I remembered the last time everyone was gathered, there was a party on the night and bad things happened and I prayed that they wouldn’t announce there would be another party tonight.

“Thank you all for gathering here today.” The announcer said. I was taken back slightly at how perfectly on time I was, especially as I had no clue this was even going on.

My eyes scanned the place looking for Jericho. Although my thoughts should be really be focusing on other issues, he was my best friend and I wanted to finally talk to him after days of pure silence.

It took me a few moments but finally my vision locked on him and I couldn’t help but smile and also make my way closer to him but kept a decent sized gap filled with people.

He was wearing Lynx. I could smell him from where I was. He knew I loved it too.

“Today, we’re obviously in Sheffield and I won’t take up much of your time before the show tonight but I just really wanted to say just how amazing the nights here in England have been.” Everyone cheered.

“They have been fantastic and the crowds have been loving you. I could not ask for more. I’ll let you guys go now but just remember you only have tonight and tomorrow night at Whitby left.”

Everyone cheered again and I looked around to see a huge smile on Jerichos face and then turned to me. His smile disappeared and I could feel my heart tearing apart slowly as his smile just went and he looked over me instead.

“Hey” I said from where I was standing and made my way over to him “hey” I repeated.

“Hey” he said back. 

“I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“I know man, I’ve just been busy sorry.”

“Oh right, no worries, it was just Birmingham yesterday, I was hoping to show you around.”

“Oh damn, that’s where you grew up. I’m so sorry I completely forgot.”

“It’s okay. I’m seeing you now and that’s all that matters.”

“Yeah. About that. I actually have to go right now.”

I felt my feelings rush out of my body as I knew full well he was lying right to my face. What is going on? He would never normally do this.

“Oh right.” Was my only reply.

“Sorry. I just promised I’d do something with Cena today and you know what I’m like with promises.”

“Yup.” I said as I decided to take control and instead of just letting him leave I walked off instead and left him to do whatever he wanted, with whoever he wanted.

An hour had passed and it was now 12:15pm which mean 3 hours and 45 minutes until we started to get ready for the show. I had no idea what to do with myself. I headed back to my hotel room and looked around at the bed that was calling my name but decided against it. I threw off my clothes and left them to fall on the floor by the side of the bed and then threw on my sports bra, sports bottoms and sports top and grabbed my water before heading downstairs to the gym. I hadn’t been in a week and felt like I was slacking and the frustration that was building up needed to get out my body. I got in and began to do my stretches and then headed to the treadmill. I kept at a constant running speed for 45 minutes before moving on the bike for 30 minutes. The bike was my favourite. We had a bike in my house when I was younger and I would always go on it, and it did the best thing for your stamina. With not long left I reached in my bag and pulled out my skipping rope which had weights in the handle too and began to do my skipping. I enjoyed skipping but I couldn’t do it for very long as my leg just went to jelly, even if I hadn’t worked out beforehand! However I carried on and tried to do as much as I can before feeling my legs go.

‘Fuck sake!’ I said in anger before realising I had said it out loud as I heard myself over my music and a few heads turned at me. Two being Seth and Roman.

They both looked at me with a smile as I brushed a few loose strands of hair off my face and put my skipping rope in my bag and headed to the back of the gym to get some boxing gloves before laying into the punch bag. I kept thinking about how Jericho clearly made up at excuse to not hang out with me or even talk to me for that matter. I didn’t get it in the slightest. Why would he not want to hang out? Have I done something? 

As the last chorus of Into You but Ariana Grande kicked in, I felt my anger reach a peak and I really laid into the punch bag, punching it from all angles and as hard as I can before I felt a hand on my shoulder but I powered through it and took no notice of who it could be. I threw a few much punches when the hand moved to my arm with force as it held down my hand and then a figure came in front of me and held down my other arm. As they let go I felt my whole body just shut down like I was some kind of robot when I looked up to see Seth there.

He was looking down at me without a smile but more a concerned look.

“Slow it down, man”.

I looked up at him trying to catch my breath back and then looked down and felt my whole body go limp so even Seth couldn’t really hold my up but he still didn’t let go, he just helped me down to the floor safely.

“Here” he put my head back against a chair that was there and then let go of my arms and instead held my hand instead.

“I need to get back.” I said not thinking straight as I looked at the clock that said I only have 2 hours left before I have to start helping out backstage.

“You’ve got ages left, don’t worry, I’m here to help anyway.”

“Seth-” I said breaking off as I felt a tear leave my eye and roll down my check and quickly hitting the ground. I couldn’t maintain eye contact when I was like this. I felt weak. I felt disgustingly weak and I never want anyone seeing this.

However I noticed his head go lower and try and look at me before he held my head close to his chest. He held me so tight that I wrapped my arms around his very nice body and pressed my head against his chest even move. It was so perfect. I could not only smell diesel but I could hear his heart beating too. I was in my zone. 

As minutes seem to fly by, I pulled away as time was short and I shot up out of his arms and quickly walked towards the door. 

My head was still all over the place and being so close to the reason my mind was how it was getting too much for me. There was only seconds difference between my actions and Seth following behind, he was copying me.

He followed me out of the gym and up the stairs, slowly behind until of course he had more stamina on the stairs and met me just before getting to the second floor where my room was.

“Wait” he said to me trying to catch my swinging hand.

I tried to get away from him and jogged a little bit through the door frame and entered my room but he was right behind me now and came in my room too.

“I’m sorry, I just- I need to get my head straight.”

“It’s okay, I just want to know your okay.”

“I’m okay.”

“You didn’t hurt yourself in the gym did you?” I looked at him as the words left his mouth. He was so into the gym and working out and you could just tell it was something he was really passionate about.

“No” I said back feeling weak.

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I just need some answers really.” I said not thinking. I felt my eyes roll back so far that I had a little pain in them. As my mind was going crazy I was starting to say things that were on my mind to try and get more space free.

“To what?”

“Oh nothing, it doesn’t matter.” 

“Hey, I want to help out. What’s up?” He seemed genuinely concerned and wanting to help me out but how could I ask him when half of the questions are about him, especially the mains ones too.

“I’m just confused.” I looked at him and shook my head not really believing what I’m about to say to him. 

“I don’t get why Jericho is ignoring me.”

There was a moment of silence between us. I looked at him right at the end of my first question when I noticed he looked down and at the bottom of the bed that we were sitting on. I felt like he was wondering why I was thinking of someone else while he was there with me but Jericho is my best friend and things with him had been on my mind for days now. I felt bad talking about this with him because I knew he wanted to talk about other things but to me, right now, this was important.

“You know, man, Jericho does what he wants most of time” he cut himself off as he turned to me to continue on.

“You know, you tell him you don’t like something and he’ll make this big deal about how he’ll never do it again and then, you know, something like your birthday will come along and he’ll do the thing you don’t like again. Jericho is a tricky man. A great guy but very tricky.”

I looked at him the whole time he spoke about my friend and I couldn’t help but agree with every single word that came out of his mouth, I think that deep down I also knew this but didn’t want to admit it to myself but you have to hear it from someone else to truly understand it and let the reality sink in.

“Very sensitive though. A few years before you joined us, something happened and he just wasn’t himself. He was so quiet and didn’t even speak to anyone, he just ignored everyone, even his close friends. It was hard for everyone really but he came out of his shell soon after.”

It was weird listening to Seth tell that story as it sounded exactly like what’s happening right now with us both and it made so much sense.

“If something comes along and sort of ruins things for him, he doesn’t know how to cope.”

His vision kept switching from my one eye to the other as if we wanted to see if I was really listening and taking it in. It was like he had already thought about this and was just waiting for this situation to come up so he finally say it and get it off his chest.

“You’re right. He is sensitive, it’s just, he’s never pushed me away before and it makes me wonder if I should of listened to him.”

“What do you mean, should of listened to him?”

I felt myself digging a hole, not only for myself but for a number of people.

“He told me to be careful around people and when I decided to actually live my life and do what I wanted, he got distant.”

There was silence between us for a few moments. I knew I shouldn’t of said anything really but for Seth to really understand the situation it was best for him to know the full story even if it means trying to beat around the bush but at the same time make it obvious who I was on about.

“He told you to stay away from me?”

I could hear in Seths voice that it pulled a few strings with him. He was clearly down that I was told to stay away from him even when we had just started really being friends.

“Look Seth, I’m just going to be completely honest with you. I was told by a number of people that I should stay away from you.”

“Why did they say that?” 

“I honestly have no idea.”

“Who said it?”

“It doesn’t matter who, but I didn’t want to stay away. I want to be with you.”

It was at that moment that it really hit me that I had feelings for him.

“Friends with you.” I quickly corrected myself as I felt his hand crawl over to mine on the bed. I heard him take a deep breath in and look at me again and went to say something before my alarm went off and interrupted.

“Whys your alarm going off?” He asked as I turned the alarm off on my watch. 

“It’s for when there’s an hour and half left to get ready. It’s for when I’m out on my own or something and need to head back.”

“Oh, that’s clever, I like that.”

“Thanks, it’s pretty decent to be honest.”

“I best get going then” Seth said as he rose from where he had been sitting and headed towards the door before looking back over his shoulder at me exactly like he did the first time in Cornwall. 

As the door closed behind him I let my whole body fall and hit the bed like a sack of potatoes before realising I was still in my gym gear and quickly jumped in the shower and got ready for tonight.