#LIAM YOU POOR FOOL

[love-laugh-daydreamarevolt]

The biggest victim of red white and royal blue is poor Liam

[miraclewoozi]

HIGH FIDELITY, PT 1. -c.hs

getting back on the horse is hard, and failing to hit it off with the cute gamer guy you went for a drink with last night has the potential to be your love life’s last straw. but when up and coming rockstar VERNON unexpectedly canters into your life, you find yourself asking one very important question: do you have it in you to saddle up, one more time?

pair ; vernon x fem!reader.  content ; strangers to lovers.  up-and-coming musician!vernon x record store owner!reader.   fluff, angst, parts two and three will contain suggestive themes and smut. (MINORS DNI).  warnings ; drinking + alcohol is a big theme pretty much throughout. mentions of past relationship breakdowns. reader experiences a lot of stress, anxiety and feelings of doubt, reflected in self sabotage.  wc ; 13.5k ( ~35k total. ) disclaimer ; this fic was inspired by rob + liam in the series high fidelity and is therefore pretty influenced by the show. if you’ve watched it, you’ll probably see a lot of similarities! i just felt so drawn to vernon in this kind of role that i really wanted to try and put a spin on it. i do not claim that every idea behind this is original. notes ; been working on this one for a while. hope you enjoy it.<3

“What do you mean, no?”

Your best friend and longest standing employee Seungkwan turns his head away from the customer he’s serving to look at you with filth in his eyes. Unsurprisingly, his features don’t soften when you double down on your response to him.

“I mean, no,” you laugh. “I’m running on fumes, dude. I’m not going. No way.”

“But…” he whines, putting down the record in his hands. “No, come on. I told you about this weeks ago. You’re really gonna make me go on my own?”

“You won’t be on your own. Chan’s still going.”

Your younger friend, upon hearing his own name, whirls around from where he’s been rearranging the wall of cassettes and lifts an eyebrow. “Hmm?”

“You’re still going to that guy’s show tonight, right?”

“Are you kidding? Of course I am. Why?” Chan eyeballs your guilt-adjacent expression for a second before his face falls and he looks at Seungkwan with a curled lip. “What did you do? Why’s she not coming anymore?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Seungkwan barks. The customer he’s still not finished ringing up flinches at the lift in his voice, but he doesn’t notice. “Why is that always your first–”

“Shut up, don’t start this right n–”

“I’m not starting anything! You started–”

“Guys!” You interrupt, looking between the two of them and doing your best to smile apologetically at the poor lady fumbling through the cash in her fingers like it’s an Olympic sport. “Can we park this one? For five minutes? Please?”

The bickering pair fall quickly into silence and Chan sends one last glare at Seungkwan before he turns back to the cassettes, grumbling something under his breath. 

With a clearing of his throat the only giveaway, Seungkwan drops seamlessly back into his customer service voice and plasters a charming smile onto his lips. He checks the register and warmly tells the young woman her total, holding out his palm for her to place the money into. Even knowing him as well as you do, the switch-up gives you a little bit of whiplash.

The customer passes over her cash and accepts her change from Seungkwan’s hands before making perhaps the swiftest exit you’ve ever seen anyone make. No sooner has the bell above the entry to OFF BEAT Vinyl rung and the door has clicked shut, the two men turn once again.

But not on each other.

On you. And it’s the more gentle of them that pipes up first.

“Why aren’t you coming?” Chan asks, abandoning his little project and hurrying over to the desk with a frown. You’re sure it’s supposed to look sympathetic to whatever issue it is that’s changed your mind, supposed to fool you into believing that this has nothing to do with him still blaming Seungkwan entirely. But… you know him better than that. You know them both better. If Chan and Seungkwan weren’t both employed by you, you don’t doubt that they would have ripped each other to shreds within the first hour of meeting. Their dynamic is fascinating to watch — one minute, the best of friends, the next just seconds away from throwing fists; you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve had to send them to different rooms to avoid having to clean blood and tears off your shop (and sometimes your apartment) floor. 

“I didn’t sleep so well last night, I just want to go to bed early. Is that… okay?” 

(This is an embellishment of the truth, but what they don’t know can’t hurt them.)

“No,” they both exclaim at the same time, but Seungkwan goes one step further and slams his hands down on the counter for good measure. You purse your lips and narrow your eyes at him, but he keeps his palms flat and doesn’t give any indication that he’s about to apologise, so…

“Okay — God.” You turn away from them, heading towards the little office out the back of the store to try and get a few minutes’ respite. “Whatever. Fight with the wall, you guys – I’m not going. Check in with me before you head out, okay?”

Behind you, Seungkwan dramatically calls you a traitor and says he’ll never forgive you for this, but you just shake your head and continue on your way. The world falls into silence as you shut the door after yourself and you lean back against it, letting out a deep exhale and pinching the bridge of your nose. 

Now, you did have an awful night’s sleep last night, and after how on-and-off busy the store has been all day today, the headache you woke up with this morning has only slowly gotten worse. But there are reasons for those things outside of what you’re going to admit to out in the main storefront. As close as the three of you are, there are some things that you’ve always thought it wise to keep… a little bit hushed. Especially at work. 

When Chan and Seungkwan start an inquisition into your private life, it feels like it may never end. And so sue you, you’d actually like to make it home at a reasonable time, today. 

True to your parting request, the two men close down the store for you while you sit out the back in your ‘office’, lights dimmed, pouring over both a new store playlist you’re trying to compile and a few less exciting — but actually important — tasks. Chan heads out first, all puppy-dog eyed when he pokes his head through the door and asking if you’re really not coming out. You shake your head, telling him to have fun and tell you all about it on Monday when he’s next penned in.

Seungkwan is slightly less easily brushed away. A few minutes after Chan says his final goodbye, your other employee slides into your office and shuts the door, sitting down in the armchair opposite you with his eyebrows scrunched together.

He doesn’t speak for almost a full thirty seconds, at which point, you look up at him from the small mountain of receipts you’re trying to organise and click your tongue.

“What?” you ask, leaning back in your own chair and crossing your arms. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You know why.” Seungkwan shifts forward on the cushion until he’s sat almost entirely on the edge of the seat. “You might think you’re really good at hiding your shit, okay? But you’re not. Not from me.”

“Please,” you sigh. “It’s nothing. I’m telling you, I’m just tired today.”

“And I’m telling you that I know you better than that. Come on, talk to me.”

This is, unfortunately, something you can’t deny. It also seems to be his unfailing last line of defence every single time you’re stubborn over discussing your problems. One of these days, you’ll be ready for it — you’ll have a response sitting on the tip of your tongue ready to shut the conversation down, and he’ll be the one on the spot, and you’ll treat yourself to a pint of ice cream or something when you get home as a victory snack. But today? Isn’t that day; Seungkwan stumps you, once again, so you groan in defeat, cradling your head in your hands.

“I went on a date last night,” you say under your breath.

“What?”

Clearing your throat, you look up at him. You say, louder, “I went on a date last night.”

His eyes blow wide and if he could get any closer to you without actually sitting on top of your coffee-stained worktop, you think he would. Which is strange, if you really let yourself think about it, because Seungkwan is sort of an ex-thing, and talking so openly to someone who has quite literally been inside you about going out with other people… shouldn’t come as easily as it does.

But that was quite some time ago, and for three long months, you drove each other nuts. The two of you are way better off as friends. (Whether you’re better as colleagues is still up for review.)

“You what?” he whisper-shouts. It feels almost like he’s hinting to an invisible audience that this piece of information is extremely scandalous: all wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Which would be fine, except it’s not really that scandalous at all, and neither should it be a surprise: you’re single, you have been for a while, and you have an entire sub-folder in your phone dedicated solely to dating apps — you’re at perfect liberty to go out with whoever you like. You just continue to stare at him, refusing to repeat yourself for a third time. 

“You haven’t even been home, have you?” Seungkwan asks after letting the dust settle, the silence just on the brink of uncomfortable. “Oh my God. Tell me everything.”

“Shut up,” you groan. “His name’s Wonwoo. I met him on Hinge. And fuck you – yes, I went back to my own place.”

You pause for a second, taking a breath when his features cloud with the question he’s about to ask. 

“It’s just-... so did he.”

Seungkwan leaps to his feet and claps loud enough that your already tender eardrums feel assaulted, adding an ‘I knew it!’ for good measure. You cringe at his volume, rubbing your temples – you should’ve known telling him this wouldn’t calm him down, but a small part of you was still hoping. This time, he actually does circle around the desk, carelessly shoving a few bits of paper out of his way before sitting on the newly cleared wood. 

“Had you up all night, didn’t he?” Seungkwan asks. You shove his thigh, looking away from him, embarrassed. “What was the date?”

You just wish it was the kind of embarrassment that he thinks you’re feeling. Flustered, shy, giddy even. But it’s not any of those things.

“If I tell you, will you please turn it down a notch?” You ask, and Seungkwan nods, giddily kicking his legs over the side of the desk. With a sigh, you continue. “We just went for a drink. It wasn’t special, okay? It was bad. We had nothing to talk about, he was awkward, I didn’t even wanna be there – I took a bathroom break after like… a half hour, and I tried to bail but I’d left my phone on the table so I had to go back.”

“And how did that end up with him in your panties?” Seungkwan asks, thankfully a little quieter when he speaks this time. 

“Do not talk about my panties out loud ever again,” you grunt, drumming your fingertips on the arm of your office chair. You give a dejected sigh as you answer him properly. “I guess… It felt like a sign that I was trying to give up too early. So I stayed a little longer, told him the truth about how I was feeling. I don’t know, maybe it took the pressure off or something? But we got talking a little more, we found some stuff we had in common… It just got easier and he started cracking a few jokes, so…”

“So… he laughed his way into your—?”

“He doesn’t drink alcohol,” you interject slowly, narrowing your eyes. “I asked him if he minded driving me home.”

“You devil,” Seungkwan grins, lightly prodding your calf with the side of his foot. “Was he good? Was it big?”

“Seungkwan!”

“Did he make you–”

“He was gone this morning when I woke up.”

Your friend doesn’t say ‘oh, shit’ out loud, but he doesn’t have to. The silence he suddenly falls into speaks for itself, his newly adopted slack-jawed expression the exclamation mark at the end of his unspoken sentence. 

“Always the fucking ‘nice’ guys.” You push up from your desk and start to gather your things, shutting off your computer and grabbing your phone off the desk. You’re over it – you can deal with all this tomorrow.

Seungkwan hops down, biting the inside of his cheek as you pull your keys out of the pocket of your jeans. “Come with us tonight,” he tries one more time, laying a hand on your shoulder and sounding the kind of gentle that makes your skin itch. You swerve out from beneath his palm, shaking your head at him again. “Maybe it’ll take your mind off it.”

“I don’t need my mind taking off anything,” you insist softly. “I’m fine, I just don’t feel like going out. Gonna order in some food and get my ass to bed. Okay?”

Knowing he’s fighting a losing battle, your best friend finally stops pressing. He circles around you and flicks on the overnight alarm, letting you lead your way out of the office and then through the front of the store. He helps you pull the shutter down and tests the lock for you, as he so often does, before he holds both of his arms out in front of him. With a resigned roll of your eyes, you walk into his embrace for a couple of seconds.

“I’m okay, Seungkwan. Go without me. Have fun and let me know if this Vernon guy is any good, okay?”

“We’ll miss you,” he says as you pull away, and you clap him on the upper arm once before turning away, slipping your headphones on over your ears. 

What you neglected to inform Seungkwan, even after allowing yourself those rare few moments of vulnerability, is who you bumped into on your way to the bar where you met Wonwoo last night. The encounter that set the tone in the first place. The reason you were so cold with the stranger who sat across from you in the booth, the reason you tried to bail, and two-thirds of the reason you’ve felt so damn out of it all day. That’s a story for another time, you tell yourself on your walk home. Maybe. 

But… then again. Maybe not.

You’ve been marinating on your couch in a pair of sweatpants and a crisis hoodie for at least two hours and are currently on your second bowl of evening cereal when you hear a knock on your apartment door. You purse your lips and set the spoon back down inside the milky sludge, but you don’t set your ‘dinner’ to one side just yet. It’s probably just the old lady next door, asking if you’ve seen her cat, Houdini (you can’t help but feel like she was asking for trouble giving him a name like that) (in any case — no, you haven’t), or the middle-aged couple opposite asking you to turn your music down (you won’t) (it’s not even that loud).

You’re not getting up. All you have to do is wait for them to give up and away. 

Knock, knock, knock.

They’ll leave. 

Knock knock. 

Any second, now.

…

Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock.

You groan loudly as you haul yourself to your feet and skid over to the door, crossing your arms tighter over your chest to try and shield you from the chill that always lingers in the hallway.

“I’m sorry, Mrs P,  I haven’t seen H—” you start on exasperated autopilot, falling quiet the moment your eyes land first on Chan’s beaming smile, and second on Seungkwan’s guilty eyes. “How… the fuck did you guys get in here?”

“We followed someone in,” Chan tells you as he slides past, inviting himself into your haven and heading through to the living room where your favourite album is spinning on your record player. “That really tall guy – I think he lives on the second floor? Crazy hairline. Like, right back h—?”

“Cool,” you interrupt, except it’s actually everything but cool. Seungkwan steps through the door too, following behind you as you stalk after your younger friend. “Next question. Why are you guys in here?”

“You’ve been in a funk all day,” Chan says, tossing himself down onto your couch and nearly tipping your cereal all over the cushions. He eyes the glass you have on the side-table, raises a brow and looks back at you. “And you can’t deny that. You’re drinking rosè and eating fruit loops at 9pm on a Saturday. You need to get out of this apartment.”

“I don’t need to do anything,” you tell him, sitting down on the armchair to Chan’s left that only ever gets used when these two idiots show up at the same time. 

“One hour?” Seungkwan tries again, crouching down in front of you and taking hold of your hand. “You don’t have to be out late. And – and I’ll open tomorrow. You can stay in bed as long as you want.”

“Do you guys ever stop?” You ask them, and in tandem, the two men shake their heads at you. “I’m staying here. You’ve gotta go, or you’re gonna be late.”

Chan whines your name loudly, stomping like an upset toddler. “You know it won’t be as fun without you.”

“It’s gonna have to be,” you shrug, picking your feet up off the floor and resting them on the coffee table. “Come on. I’m serious. Get out of here.”

Seungkwan watches you for a moment longer but when you eye him sternly, he stands up again, giving your hand a squeeze and sending a nod to tell Chan to get up and follow him. First taking a long sip from your wine glass, the younger man does as he’s instructed, concern etching a frown onto his lips as he walks towards the door.

“If you change your mind, you know where we are, okay?” Seungkwan says and you nod at him. “See you in the morning.”

The door clicks shut behind them and you feel your shoulders droop, a long sigh leaving your lungs now you’re finally back on your own again. You roll your head side-to-side, relieving a tiny bit of the tension that you’ve been holding up in your neck all day, before relaxing back against the cushions behind you.

I’m not going out tonight, you tell yourself as you try to time your breaths to the beat of your music, letting it drown out the fact that the young couple who live two doors down have started arguing just outside your front door. It’s not gonna happen. 

There’s no way. 

The chill of an ice-cold glass meets your palm not even an hour later.

Chan and Seungkwan had been sitting on the stairs outside your apartment building, giving you fifteen more minutes just in case you happened to change your mind. To your credit, neither man had expected you to get out of your quarter-life-crisis outfit. Each gave a whistle of approval as you stepped outside into the air in a nice pair of jeans and a cute, long-sleeved shirt.

You all set off in the direction to the Arrowhead (so-called thanks to the venue’s unconventional triangular room shape) and both of your friends managed to successfully paint a few smiles on your face along the way. Once inside, Seungkwan dragged you by the wrist up towards the main bar space. Before you even had time to process the blurred faces that you walked by and the fuzzy neon signs all the way up the stairwell, enthused cheers and applause from the room ahead and the melodic strumming of a guitar drowned out the dread you’d been feeling ever since you woke up.

“This guy is not covering U2,” Chan says almost incredulously as he thrusts the drink he paid for into your hand. You manage to work your way through the crowd a little: it’s busier in here than you’ve ever seen it before, and certainly way more full than you would have really expected, but there’s still just enough movement room.

“Yeah, he is,” you say as you weave your way into a decent spot, where you can actually see the musician whose logo has been plastered on every notice board around town for the past month and a half. You even end up with a bit of breathing space, which is a rare, but welcome, treat.

But whatever you were about to say next – about how you don’t like U2, and how you’ve never really forgiven them for putting their entire new album onto everybody’s iTunes back in 2014 – dies a magnificent death on your tongue. You pause with your drink halfway to your lips as your eyes land on the main attraction, the man up on the stage; he has a small band up there, too, but all the lights draw your focus to him. His eyes are sparkly. Both his hands are wrapped around the microphone like he’s caressing it, his rosy lips brush over the metal as they move with each word that comes out of his mouth. Watching him quickly becomes almost hypnotic.

So. This is Vernon.

Long, dark hair sits low over his temples, perfectly parted and shaped in the middle to frame his brows. The top few buttons of his emerald satin shirt are popped open, sleeves rolled up past his elbows, the hem half tucked into his black jeans. He has rings on almost every finger. A silver chain around his neck. He looks good, but his voice?

I think I hated this song ten minutes ago, you think to yourself, but there’s something about Vernon’s deep, rough-edged tone that has you considering never listening to anything else. If you could stand to look away from the way he cradles his mic, and the way one of his eyes squeezes tighter closed as he lifts up into a higher note, and the way he moves on the stage like he was born to be on one, you might notice your friends (and everyone else around you) equally entranced by this gorgeous rendition of Beautiful Day as yourself. You can’t, though, so you don’t. 

You keep your attention locked on the singer and instead start to wonder just what he injected the air with when he stepped out from behind that curtain. 

Vernon’s eyes flutter back open right as he hits the final line of the song, a smile spreading over his lips. You realise only now that you’re hardly breathing, nor blinking — your body doesn’t remember to function in the ways it needs to survive, too caught up being immersed all the way to the last beat. You think he looks right at you from up on the stage, you swear one of his eyebrows lifts and his features twist into a satisfied smirk. You’re certain, because for half a second it feels like the world tumbles into slow motion and it’s like he’s reading every single one of your secrets, scouring every corner of your mind. 

And then… he looks away. He looks across the crowd applauding and cheering and whistling for him, before crouching low and taking a sip from the water bottle sitting on the floor beside his mic-stand. Only then does he speak. 

“Risky opener, I know,” he chuckles, his speaking-voice deep and smooth and wholly entrancing. The room erupts into soft laughter, a series of whoops coming from the crowd, everyone disarmed by his slightly awkward charm; the singer’s cheeks turn rosy and a gummy smile lights up his face before he continues. “Thank you guys for giving it a chance, though. If you didn’t know… I’m Vernon—…”

You’re hooked on his every word as he starts to introduce himself and the band behind him — everyone is, but you don’t care about the people around you. Despite being shoulder-to-shoulder with your two best friends and with every breath inhaling the overpowering cologne of the guy standing right behind you, it feels, in a way, like you and the singer could be the only two people in the entire room. 

The set lasts just over ninety minutes and is a carefully put-together mixture of mostly original songs and a couple of crowd-pleasing covers, a few slower ballad-types to offset the higher energy rock songs that he beams the whole way through. In-between, Vernon wins over the crowd with his dry sense of humour and a natural charisma that has you feeling mortifyingly warm, despite the fact that you know he isn’t speaking directly to you when he breaks to talk. You’ve been to more than your fair share of gigs in this venue over the years, but few performers have ever made one of their shows feel so genuinely intimate; by the time he says goodnight and heads off the stage, bidding everyone a safe journey home, it feels, in a weird way, like… you know him.

Most of the more local artists who play in the Arrowhead tend to hang around after their sets – sometimes they’ll have copies of EPs, others come with pins and badges showing off their logos, various cute freebies for people to take home. A few even just stand around in the bar and talk for a while, thanking people personally for coming, sharing information about their upcoming releases and future gig schedules. Unless you’ve been really blown away, this isn’t something the three of you often stick around for, though.

It’s therefore a bit of a surprise that when Vernon re-emerges some fifteen minutes later, you don’t even have to convince your friends to work your way into the crowd already starting to form. If anything, the look exchanged between you all establishes that wanting to praise this guy and say hello is very much mutual; the time that ticks by before you’re face-to-face with him really feels like no time at all.

The people in front of you move off to the side and you catch your first actual, unobstructed glimpse of him. He takes a sip from his glass and wipes his upper lip with the back of his hand before greeting you kindly. Somehow, he’s even more handsome up close. You really didn’t think it was possible. 

“Amazing set, man,” Chan says brightly, doing little by way of snapping you out of your trance. “Super fresh.”

“Seriously. So, so good,” Seungkwan gushes.

Vernon pushes away from where he’s leaned against the bar, pulling his other hand out of his pocket and extending it to your friends in turn. 

“Thank you so much,” he says. “Glad you guys liked it.” Another one of those easy, bright smiles spreads over his face. Maybe you entertain, for a second, that it grows a little more when he holds his hand out to you, too. 

You’re still stunned into silence by how breathtaking he is, but you put your drink in the other hand and wipe the condensation off your palm on the side of your jeans before shaking his hand, as well. He’s really warm, maybe even a little clammy, but when he squeezes with his fingers and looks straight into your eyes, this becomes a very negligible detail.

“Your vibe really reminds me of someone… God, what was his name-...” Chan starts to babble, clicking his fingers at lightning speed as if it’ll help him remember. “He was on that survival show-...”

“We’re sorry about him,” Seungkwan interjects after a few more seconds of nonsense and half-spoken, incorrect names, lifting a hand and covering Chan’s mouth. “He gets a little… it’s just when he’s excited.”

“No I don’t,” Chan huffs, swatting Seungkwan’s hand away. You inhale deeply, trying not to cringe as you watch Vernon’s amused eyes bounce between your two friends like he’s watching a tennis match. 

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Case in point—” Seungkwan starts, at which stage you lay one palm on each of their shoulders to try and get them to stop talking.

By some miracle, it works. At least, their mouths stop moving; there’s definitely a silent conversation ongoing in the filthy looks they continue to exchange, but they stop bickering aloud and that’s good enough for you, for now.

“Come on, let’s leave the poor guy alone,” you say, and Chan shoots Seungkwan a filthy look before he nods and takes a small step back from the altercation. 

Vernon’s eyes glitter under the venue’s neon lighting, wide and focused on you while you do your best to mediate. You only notice this when you look back at him, by which point it’s far, far too late to stop the eruption of butterflies in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re really good,” you compliment finally, a smile tugging your mouth up on one side. 

“Thank you.” Vernon grins, briefly dipping his head in your direction, but looking for a second as if he’s about to say something else. His chest rises with a breath, his lips push forward like they’re about to separate again, but before he can, Chan finds one more thing to come out with. Of course. (Seungkwan, regretfully, was right — he does get a little…)

“Do you like records?” he asks, pulling Vernon’s gaze away from you. The singer tilts his head, questioning. “Records. Vinyl – albums? Records.”

“Shit – yeah.” Vernon nods then. “Yeah, sorry. I um-... Sure. Yeah. Totally.”

“She owns a record store,” Chan says, jerking his head towards you. You feel your eyes blow wide and you’re tapping harshly at his back in an instant, begging him to stop. “OFF BEAT Vinyl. Not too far from here – it’s a cool spot.”

“No kidding?” Vernon says, glancing back in your direction, but you’re too busy silently pleading at Chan to shut up to realise.

“Mm. You should swing by, some time,” Seungkwan agrees, and all of a sudden, you’re overcome with the urge to fight him, too. “We all work there.”

“All right, let’s go,” you cough eventually, grabbing both men by the wrist and tugging. Vernon chuckles softly at the interruption; it’s almost as sweet a sound as his singing.

“OFF BEAT Vinyl,” he repeats, tasting the store’s name on his tongue, swirling it around his mouth like a wine he’s trying to savour. “For real. I’ll look it up.”

Chan grins proudly, finally letting himself be pulled away from the singer, and you manage to make exactly two paces before Vernon’s voice rings through your eardrums one more time.

“Hey, uh – what was your name?” he asks. It’s unmistakable who the question is aimed at (your friends don’t even entertain for a moment that he could be asking them), but regardless, it takes you a moment to let yourself believe he really wants to know. Vernon doesn’t push, though – he knows you heard him and he waits for your answer, leaning a little forward. 

So, you look over your shoulder and you tell him. You see his lips move silently as he repeats it to himself, just like he did with the name of the store. He tastes it. Plays with it on his tongue, remembers the way it feels. As if it’s something he really intends to remember.

“Cool,” he breathes, pushing his hair back and off his forehead and making it very difficult to feel in any way rational. “Well – it’s great to meet you guys. Thanks for coming out, again.”

Finally, you manage to get your friends away. One of them, at least – Seungkwan decides that he actually wants to grab a few copies of his EP (‘one for me, a few for the store’) and rushes back towards the singer; you tell him to just meet you back at the bar.

Then, with another round of drinks on order, you turn to Chan and land a gentle thump on his bicep.

“Dude,” you groan, and he looks at you incredulously, rubbing his upper arm with a pout. “Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” Chan asks. 

“Tell him about the store!”

“I mean – I didn’t think it was classified?” he says. “Shit’s slow right now, and he seems like the kind of guy to have a record collection. What’s the damage?”

Seungkwan appears behind you with his hands full of CDs, badges and a scrap of something that you’re reasonably sure is firstly, a napkin, and secondly, has been signed. So you rest your elbows on the bar and place your head in your hands, grumbling quietly about how you don’t know you’ve managed to survive this long knowing these two losers.

“Because you love us,” Seungkwan says, fastening a button to your t-shirt. “Stop trying to deny it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you sigh, accepting the drink from the bartender and taking a long sip. “God, you better have been serious about opening up for me, tomorrow.”

(Well. You have to give it to him: he was.)

“It’s just my opinion!” 

From your perch on top of the store’s counter, you raise both of your palms in a display of your innocence. Chan stands in the middle of the R&B aisle, looking personally offended, fingers curled around the top of one of the wooden crates holding your stock. 

“Me saying ‘I don’t think Welcome to the Black Parade is the best track on that album’ is not me saying that it’s a bad song.”

“But how can you say that?” Chan groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Who’s hearing the opening note to Famous Last Words and feeling the same way as they do with the Black Parade?”

“Most iconic doesn’t mean the best,” you counter. “Besides – I never said you weren’t allowed to have it as your favourite. It’d be a boring game if we all had the same answer.”

“I cannot cope with you anymore,” Chan whines. “You know what? No. I don’t even believe you. You’re just being a contrarian.”

“Why would I do that?” you ask. 

“Because it’s the best song on the goddamn albu–”

The bell above the door chimes loud and clear through the store and both of your squabbling voices fall silent. Your head turns in the direction of the entrance, an autopilot greeting already forming on your lips, but you feel them fall slack the moment you realise who it is that’s just walked in.

It’s been five days. Though it would be a mistruth to claim you hadn’t thought about the singer since the night of his gig, it’s not one to say you didn’t think he would ever actually come into your place of work. 

Much less at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. On a Thursday.

He pops his wrists as he walks a little further into the store, glancing around. Barring one of your regulars who walks about with his earphones in all the time, the store is completely empty; an adrenaline spike prickles the hairs on your arms, all the tiny muscles beneath your skin pulling them to stand upright. 

“Hi,” he says once he deems himself to be close enough, stopping in his tracks and kicking the toe of his shoe against the floor.

“Hey,” you greet him in return. 

“I’m-... Vernon. We met at the show, the other night?” 

“Yeah — yeah, I remember you,” you smile. “I’m-... well. I’m still y/n.”

“Still y/n,” he says on a relieved exhale, grinning and glancing away from you. “I uh… I just had some free time. Thought I’d swing by and see what you guys had going on here.” Vernon adjusts the collar of his t-shirt, the silver of his rings glinting under the flickering yellow light overhead.

(It was definitely somewhere on your list of things to get fixed. Honest.)

“Sure, yeah,” you nod, swallowing hard and trying your best not to stare at him. It’s hard, though – in broad daylight, the way the flannel tied around his waist floats down over his hips and the way his jeans hug at his thighs is… you don't even have the words. “Let me know if you need help finding anything, okay?” 

“I will.” He starts to thumb through one of the wooden boxes, offering a small smile your way. “Thank you.”

You’re holding your breath a little as he pulls a few 80’s rock albums out, his lips downturned in surprised approval at some of the records you carry. He holds onto a couple as he moves around the store and the entire time, you can feel Chan and Seungkwan staring at you. If there wasn’t a very real danger of Vernon looking your way again at a moment’s notice, you know you would be showing them your middle finger.

Really, they come away lucky.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve been trying to find some of these,” Vernon says after a few minutes, sauntering toward the desk – you’re still sitting on top of it, your legs swinging in the air beneath you. “Might have to make this my new stop.”

And displayed beside you on the counter – right by the cash register – are a few of his albums. The ones Seungkwan picked up after the show; until about two seconds ago, you had forgotten they were even there.

Vernon’s face lights up when he notices, turning to Seungkwan. “Come on, no way. I thought you were kidding about that.”

“Deadly serious,” Seungkwan laughs. Out of the corner of his eye, he must see you start to freeze up: he keeps talking instead of letting the silence settle. “It was on the speakers yesterday. Four people asked us about you.”

“For real?” Vernon asks. When all three of you nod your heads, you see the beginnings of a blush start to creep up his neck. “Wow. Thank you – um. That’s really cool of you guys.”

“It’s good music,” Chan shrugs. “You’re super talented.”

You’re not sure what it is about the onslaught of passive praise that gets so deep into Vernon’s head, but he doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself other than repeatedly saying ‘thank you’. Relief comes in the form of another customer jingling the bell above the door and drawing the attention away from him for a few moments.

“I’ll take these,” he says breathlessly as he turns to face you again. You find yourself a tiny bit lost in the warmth of his eyes and it takes you a second to remember to swivel around and slip off the other side of the countertop. You do, though. Eventually. 

“Nice,” you say softly as you shuffle through them, ringing each one through. He’s got pretty decent taste, even if less than a week ago you were actively cringing at his choice of cover song. (It’s okay. That was before you knew better.) “Do you– need sleeves, or…?”

“I’m good. Thank you, though.” Vernon rests his hands against the edge of the counter and drums a quiet rhythm out with his thumbs as you tap away at the register. “Are-... you guys busy tonight, by the way?”

You look up from placing the records into a paper bag, glancing over to your colleagues who both rush to shake their heads. Vernon looks from them, to you, and you mirror their action. Even if I was, you start to think wistfully. I’d make time.

“I’m playing at the Orchid? Uh— it starts at eight thirty; I could get you guys on the list, if-... um…”

“That’d be awesome,” Chan says, nodding so hard you’re surprised his head doesn’t roll off his shoulders and start bouncing across the floor. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Seungkwan adds. 

Vernon grins at them both, humming softly, before turning back to you and fumbling with his wallet to take out his card to pay for his purchases. You turn the machine around to face him; he hovers with his hand just above it. 

“Maybe… I’ll see you tonight, too?” He says.

You can’t help the delight that rises inside you, as if it’s been injected straight into your bloodstream. It’s everywhere, all of a sudden. In your brain and your heart and your bones and in your lungs.

Yet, you somehow manage to keep your composure when you say, “yeah. Maybe you will.”

The payment goes through and you slide the bag over towards Vernon, your eyes never leaving his and his eyes never leaving yours. His fingers brush over yours as he takes it from you, the bite of the cold ring on his index finger a shocking contrast to the warmth the rest of his hand radiates. You hope your little gasp isn’t too audible, but… the way Chan whirls around to face away from the scene in front of him (presumably to poorly conceal his laughter), you know you haven’t gotten away with it.

“Cool,” he says, hesitating another second before finally pulling himself away. He bows his head in the direction of your friends, sending another of those irresistibly sweet smiles at you, and then he starts off towards the door. “See you, then.”

You feel your heart finally start to slow down as you grip the counter for dear life, setting out a long, drawn-out breath. What just happened? Why do you feel all… fuzzy?

“Maybe… I’ll see you tonight, too?” Chan asks in the deepest voice he can muster, snapping you out of your own head none too pleasantly. You turn in their direction as your other favourite moron feigns tucking hair behind his ear and flutters his eyelashes across at Chan.

“Yeah… Maybe you will.” And Seungkwan’s imitation of you is a little too accurate. Creepily so, and you want to curse him out for it. Instead, you scrunch up a bag to throw towards the pair of them, grinning despite yourself as they both swerve to dodge it.

“Oh my God, shut up,” you chastise them. You don’t have any bite, though, your brain still tingly and positively reeling and seeing Vernon’s dazzling smile every time you so much as blink. And when Seungkwan takes a running start and launches himself, full-force, into Chan’s unsuspecting arms? When Chan lifts him up and spins him around, and when they start making kissy-noises at each other between unearthly cackles? 

You know that the next few hours are going to be the longest of your entire life.

The rest of the afternoon goes by without much disturbance and with evening plans now in place, you make the executive decision to send the boys home half an hour early. The three of you agree to meet outside The Orchid at just after eight o’clock, giving you all a chance to eat, wash up and change before the show; your friends separate and head in the different directions to the places they call home, making a promise to text your group chat before you leave to coordinate the link-up time. You head back into the office to finish tying up your loose ends and manage to depart just an hour later. 

On your way to your apartment, you plan everything out to the minute in your head. You even allocate yourself twenty minutes to sit on the couch and decompress from your working day. So, when you settle down a little further into the cushions and put your head back, resting your eyes… when you tell yourself you’ll get up in just a minute and hop into the shower…

You certainly don’t expect to be woken up two and a half hours later as your phone vibrates on the floor of your living room.

With one eye still closed, you pick it up, yawning and stretching the lingering wisps of slumber from your body. Seungkwan’s contact name shows on your screen and you swipe to answer the call; on the other end of the line, a song you’ve never heard before is audible, but it’s accompanied by a voice you most definitely do know.

Everything snaps into place at once; in an instant, you’re wide awake, and you feel physically sick.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” you hiss into the speaker, scrabbling upright, tugging the phone away from your face to see the time. How is it already past 9pm?

“Oh, hello to you, too!” Seungkwan has to half-shout to be anywhere near audible over the music. You can almost perfectly visualise the way he’ll have sandwiched himself in a corner of the venue, pinching the bridge of his nose, head resting against the wall to try and block out enough sound to hear you. “Good to know you’re actually still alive!”

“Dude, I’m so sorry,” you say, rushing through to your bathroom to check if you can get away with leaving the house as you are. (Jury’s out, but you don’t have much of a choice.) “I… don’t know what happened. I fell asleep – I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Seungkwan chides you again, this time reminding you that he’s been on your ass about going to a doctor to get your iron levels checked for months, that your timekeeping is terrible and that you really better hurry. You promise you’re on your way and hang up the call, pocketing your (horrifically under-charged) phone and slipping into a pair of sneakers you keep by the door before you head out. You told him you’d be here. Seungkwan’s voice rings loud and clear in your ears as you lock up your apartment.

But of course, bad things never happen in isolation. Waiting on the street outside your apartment block, you find yourself being cancelled on by not one, but two uber drivers: by the time the third reaches you, and has to follow the world’s most inconvenient diversion to get past some construction work, it’s 9:35. You know it doesn’t matter how quickly you run down the last stretch of the street and get up the seemingly never-ending staircase: it’s going to be too late.

You only manage to catch the literal last two songs of Vernon’s set. You’re not sure he even knows you’ve arrived, and in a way, you hope he doesn’t. Maybe having him believe you were a no-show is better than him knowing you’re about as low-functioning as a grown adult can be. You just slip in through the door as discreetly as you can and hover at the very back of the room as he rounds up for the night; Chan slips an arm around your shoulders as you turn to the bar and order yourself a drink, but it doesn’t do much to reduce the guilt that weighs heavy in your chest. 

Which… is odd, really, you suppose. Seeing as you hardly know the singer much beyond his name and, now, a fraction of his record collection. Seeing as you certainly don’t owe him your presence at any of his performances. But there’s something in the way he made sure to ask you personally if you’d be able to make it, too, and you can’t shake it off, and… yeah, screw it, maybe you did want to be here. Maybe you did want him to notice. Maybe you do care what he thinks of you. 

Maybe… you hope he feels the same about you.

Your drink hasn’t even arrived yet by the time you hear a chain of ‘excuse me – sorry, can I just? Yeah, thanks – sorry, excuse me’ -s behind you. Your eyes fly wide and you almost choke on your own spit at the sound, growing closer and closer, somehow audible over the background music floating through the speakers, over the other chattering voices and shrieks of laughter in every direction. Part of your breathlessness, admittedly, is to do with how immediately you just knew who that voice belonged to.

“Excuse m–” it sounds again.

And then, softer: “Hey.”

You turn around on your bar stool, barely managing to bite back a smile. “Hi.”

Vernon grins at you from a few feet away, a dark singlet hanging loose on his frame, showing off his long, lean arms, displaying the few bracelets he wears on one of his slender wrists. You’re staring – you know you are; you don’t even notice the fact that Chan takes several steps away from you, or how he throws a side-along glance toward Seungkwan, nor the fact that your two best friends start talking quietly among themselves, leaving you and Vernon almost alone.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know how I managed to…” But Vernon’s already shaking his head, coming up beside you at the bar, settling into the seat on your left. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he insists, glancing over at you where you’re sitting. “I’m just glad you’re here, now.”

Chan stumbles over to you somewhere around midnight and claps his hand down on your shoulder, interrupting Vernon’s very enthusiastic explanation as to why flying is totally a better superpower to want to have than invisibility. Your giggles fall silent and Vernon stops mid-flow, waiting to hear what your friend wants to speak to you about. Unfortunately, Chan’s words are barely intelligible; it’s only when a marginally-better-for-wear Seungkwan appears too a moment later that you’re able to make any sense of him.

“We’re gonna–” Seungkwan hiccups, covering his mouth with his hand and wincing, no doubt at the burn of everything he’s had to drink now sitting high in his throat. “Gonna head out. Are you coming? We’ll split a taxi with you.”

You find yourself glancing over to where Vernon is standing, propped against the pool table that you’re now leaning on the edge of. He just smiles back at you, lifting his shoulders.

“I think… I’m gonna stay here a little longer,” you say after chewing it over. “You guys go ahead.”

Seungkwan looks between the two of you and frowns slightly. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Vernon gently pipes up from your side, sliding over a little so that his palm rests flat on the felt of the table, his forearm supporting your hips from behind. But it isn’t you he addresses, despite this butterfly-inducing contact. All deep and serious, he says, “I promise, she’s safe with me.” 

He takes his time to show it on his face, but ultimately this satisfies Seungkwan, who (despite being just about able to support both his and Chan’s weight in his current condition) has before, and still will, ignore his body’s demands in the name of ensuring your safety. But maybe he sees a trustworthiness in Vernon, or maybe he knows that you can and do handle yourself quite well. Whatever it is, he’s happy with this development, and your two friends bundle you in a hug so tight that it squeezes the air out of your lungs before they make their way towards the exit.

Once they’re out of view, you turn back to Vernon again, raising both brows at the man now closer to you than he’s ever been. But it’s far from claustrophobic – not as these things can so often be. No. No.

It’s addictive.

“Oh you promise, huh?” The tease comes out before you can do anything about it. You even end up batting your lashes at him for good measure. 

“Cross my heart,” he says with a small shrug of his shoulders. His eyes dip from where they’re boring into your own, glancing down a fraction, just for a moment, and you’re sure you see him start to lean. Drawn to you like an opposing magnet, like a moth to a flame — his breaths feel hotter as they fan against your skin, his cologne starts to smell a little stronger… then, his fingers on the other hand curl around the pool cue he’s been balancing on his side and he drags himself away from you. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna kick your ass one more time.”

One more game of pool quickly turns to two, and it even threatens to become a third as you tease, again, that Vernon just got lucky and he flashes you another one of those looks that says ‘oh? Try me’. But as tempting as it is, you don’t think your pride can withstand any more losses. You resign yourself from the table with a huff when he rests his palms flat on the velvet covering, leaning towards you in that mouth-watering way he’s been doing for hours. The thing is, for the size of his pool-playing-ego, Vernon isn’t even that good. Not if you consider the number of completely missed shots, questionable connections and pocketed cues. But, because your own skill level leaves plenty to be desired, he doesn’t have to be up there with the big leagues. 

He just needs to be a tiny bit better than you.

Asshole.

An announcement for last orders from behind the bar tells you that it’s nearing one in the morning as he starts to circle around the table and makes his way towards you. The bar has emptied considerably since you arrived, the music has steadily started getting more and more cheesy, people in all four corners of the room have started draping themselves over one another like well-dressed blankets, having already chosen the individuals they’ve decided to take home tonight. By all accounts, it’s the perfect time to leave. If you head out now, you’ll miss the rush of people flooding into the street and, if you’re lucky, the surge in taxi prices. The really good takeout place around the corner doesn’t close for another half hour, too. 

There’s just one problem. You don’t want this night to end just yet.

“I think I’m gonna get some fresh air,” you say to Vernon, trying to stretch out a burning knot in your shoulder. “It’s like, a thousand degrees in here.”

Vernon nods. “Yeah – cool. I’ll come with you.”

And with your bag slung over the arm not causing you an ache, you start off down the stairwell. The doors are already open and the late night breeze has you feeling like you’re walking through the gates of heaven as you head outside. You inhale deeply, making the most of this very rare occasion of the city’s air not feeling thick with car fuel and cigarettes. Your eyes fall closed.

“I always liked being out at this time,” Vernon says as he joins you, leaning one shoulder against the brickwork of the outside of the bar. “Feels peaceful.”

“Sure,” you nod, craning your neck to look at him. His face is half-illuminated in the neon red of the bar’s sign above you. The harsh lighting and the shadows cast by his angular features have him looking… sort of sinful, in a weird artsy way that you can’t explain thanks to the pleasant buzzing in your brain. Straight out of an arthouse, indie movie. I bet he likes those, you think absently. 

He looks straight into your eyes, intense and focussed as if he’s trying to search them, though for what you’re not sure. Honestly, you think if he gave a few more flutters of those beautiful lashes, you’d bend in-half-and-half-again to give him anything he wanted, so in a way you’re interested to ask what he’s thinking about. You don’t end up saying anything, though. There’s something wonderful in these little unspoken moments with Vernon. Something raw. 

Something… unexplainable. 

Sitting at the bar and stealing tickled glances as the waitress fumbles and drops a tray full of glasses on the floor. Subtle winks of his right eye (always, you’re discovering, the right?) from across a pool table when he succeeds in making a shot he has absolutely no business pulling off. Standing opposite you in the store you own, waiting to find out when – not if – he’s going to see you, again –

“You know,” he starts, the tiniest edge of nervousness in his voice for the first time tonight. Is the performance adrenaline finally wearing off? Is he… maybe starting to feel a little shy? Whatever it is, your last train of thought melts away into the drain just to his right, and you focus on him as he continues down this new path instead. “I got a new coffee machine in my apartment last weekend and I haven’t had the chance to use it for anyone yet.”

“Is that so?” 

“Yeah.” He nods, swallowing. “I uh…” He bounces one fist in the palm of his other hand, searching for the right order to put the words into. “I mean, it’s not like, one of those super fancy ones, or anything… but it’s sorta retro looking? Which is cool, and—”

“Vernon?”

“Yeah?”

“You‘re a little out of practice, huh?”

He chuckles on an outward breath, bowing his head, a grin that threatens to split his pretty face in two taking residence on his lips. “That obvious?”

“A tiny bit,” you say. “It’s cute though.”

He glances up at you, head a little tilted. “Yeah?”

“Mm… getting less-so by the second,” you tease him. “You can just ask me to come with you.”

“I-…” he starts, but he takes a deep breath instead and corrects his posture, as if it’ll prepare him somehow. “Okay. Okay — do you… maybe wanna come back to my place, with me?”

Not without flashing him a look first that says ‘now, was that so hard?’, you find yourself nodding up at him. 

“I’d love to,” you say.

He pushes away from the wall and when you do the same, he falls into step, heading in the direction of his apartment. You try to discreetly roll your shoulder out again but it’s obviously not discrete enough; it draws his attention down to your arm, and he frowns slightly.

“Is that giving you trouble?” He asks. 

“It’s fine.” You wave him off, stretching the muscle as best as you can by tilting your head as you walk. “It’s been like this for years.”

He scrunches his brows. “Here — can I?” He asks, his fingertip looping beneath the strap of your bag. You look down at your shoulder, then back up at him, before raising one brow, dropping the other. 

“I mean — I don’t know if it’s your colour?” 

Vernon barks out a ‘ha’, easily slipping your bag down your arm, the tips of his warm fingers brushing against your comparatively cool skin. You make no effort to stop him. He positions it on his own shoulder instead, the one furthest away from you so he can still walk right against your side. 

“There’s a reason I wear all black, okay?” He says. “It makes everything my colour.”

His fingers smoothly slip between yours as he says it. It was quite the move, and for a second you’re impressed. At least, until it turns out that this simple action seems to jolt him back to his factory settings, because—

“I’m so serious about this coffee machine, by the way.”

“I know you are,” you laugh, bumping your weight against him and squeezing his hand. “I’m counting on it.”

“Okay, so,” you start, settling into Vernon’s couch and tucking one of your legs up beneath you. You cradle the mug of coffee he’s made you — admittedly, the retro-style machine was pretty cool — between both of your hands, a thumb brushing over the raised pattern on the ceramic. The fresh air from the walk here seems to have decently sobered you; barring a pleasant buzz, you feel almost like you haven’t drunk a thing. “How did you get into music?”

Vernon matches your posture play-for-play, biting the inside of his cheek before he answers. He drank less than you in the first place, but he seems steadier now, as well.

“Uh… a couple things, I guess,” he starts. “I mean, my parents are big into music. Sometimes they'd take me with them to shows and stuff, had a bunch of CD’s all over the house — all that. You know? I really grew up on it, so…"

You nod, tilting your head to gesture for him to continue. 

“Then… I don’t know. There’s- okay, I was kind of a loser in high school,” he goes on. You roll your eyes; Vernon nudges your thigh with his knee playfully, shaking his head. 

“I just mean, I didn’t have a lot of friends.” He pauses, pursing his lips. “So…, I mean, that’s— that’s whatever. The point is that I spent a lot of time on my own and I basically had an earphone in any time I thought I could get away with it, and–... and sometimes even if I couldn’t.” He chuckles. “Weird. Most of my teachers didn’t like me much either.”

You laugh too now, and Vernon bows his head a little; every single one of his handsome features brightens up and you don’t really know where to look. His never-ending lashes are so long they cast shadows down onto his cheeks, and the ambient lighting reflects off his eyes so beautifully that they look like they’re glimmering. 

He goes on, “there was one, though. My bio teacher? She was really cool. She had a lot more time for me than the others did. And uh, she called me into her office after school one day and just said… basically, my options were to start giving a shit about… cells, and mitochon– whatever, or start really working for this great big thing that I spent all my time daydreaming about. And it’s been a little up and down, but…”

He trails off, shrugging on one side.

“I think you’re doing pretty okay,” you chime in, leaning one arm against the back of the couch and resting your head in your palm. “I bet those kids would lose their minds if they could see you now.”

“Oh?” Vernon asks, setting his coffee down on the side-table. You click your tongue at him.

“Don’t– come on.”

“No, seriously,” he laughs. “What do you mean?”

“I mean-…” you start, shaking your head. “Okay. People go out of their way to listen to you. Everyone who comes to one of your shows… that’s an hour, two hours, whatever – of making people feel exactly the way you want them to feel. They... all want to understand you. Right?”

Vernon just looks at you, forehead a tiny bit creased — the cogs in your brain tick away trying to find a better way to explain what you mean, but he finally speaks. (You’re glad, because you were struggling to come up with anything else.) 

“Shit, I thought that was just an in to say you thought I was hot, or something.”

You push at his chest lightly, your palm lingering on his vest a moment longer than is, perhaps, strictly necessary. 

“Shut up,” you groan. But a second later… “I guess there’s that, too.”

He sits back a little, pushing his hair off his forehead with a chuckle. “I dunno, I mean — I sort of… is it weird if I don’t really think about it that way?”

“Of course not,” you tell him.

He gets that look back on his face again; the pensive one, where he appears like he’s seconds away from saying something else, something important. But he falters, and when he glances back at you, his engine stalls. 

Then, with a shake of his head, he says, “wow, okay, enough about me. I’m so sorry. Can I ask you a question?”

You take another sip of your coffee and set it down, too, nodding ‘yes’. To be honest, you were quite enjoying talking about him; at the same time, you know what it is to feel a little too perceived sometimes, so you let him move on without argument. 

“How do you just… own a record store?”

You laugh. It’s been a while since you’ve had to explain this one. (When was the last time one of your dates was interested enough to ask?)

“I’m not as good a storyteller as you are,” you preface, mirroring him when he rolls his eyes, pretending not to notice that he shuffles even closer. You launch into it easily enough — the old store owner was a friend of the family, he let you work there while you were in college, took you on full-time after you dropped out. When his eyesight started deteriorating, he chose to retire and told you it was yours, if you wanted it. 

“Place would’ve closed down, otherwise,” you shrug. “But I couldn’t do it on my own, so I brought the guys in to help. Two years later... yeah. I guess that's how.”

The whole time as you talk, his eyes don’t leave you. He’s quite expressive, you find — whether he’s lifting a perfectly shaped brow, nodding along to what you’re saying, smiling at you… you feel listened to. When he’s sat across from you, you feel heard; you feel known.

“Well, first — take it back. You’re a great storyteller,” he says. You feel your face grow warm and you nudge him with your knee, but you don’t argue — you aren’t convinced he’d let you win, anyway. “But that’s… really cool? Actually.”

“Oh yeah, I heard nine-to-five retail is the coolest thing you can do, these days,” you laugh.

Vernon scoffs at you. “You close at six thirty.”

(How on Earth does he remember that?)

To avoid thinking about it too much, and so you don’t have to try to navigate asking, you roll your eyes.

“You’re right,” you say to him. “That’s way better.”

“Do you like what you do?” He asks, and you tilt your head at him. “Well — okay. If you ignore the… boring, back-office stuff.”

“Yeah,” you say after a pause. “I guess I do.”

“Then it’s cool.”

Your coffees both go cold as you talk more, and more, and more — he asks about your life, and growing up, your friends, and he answers all of your questions in turn when you ask them. He has an interesting way of talking about himself outside of his job; it’s not so much that you have to pry for information, but he’s not super forthcoming. It’s as if he’s taking all of your questions at face value, like he doesn’t know how to go about expanding on them. 

Maybe he’s just more of a listener, you contemplate once he turns yet another of your questions back on you and you teasingly pull him up on it. It flusters him, which you can’t help but find very endearing. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I just… you have such a pretty… voice?” he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck, ears burning pink. 

“Oh?” You ask, stumped for a moment as your heart lurches in your chest. When he nods, you find the gall from somewhere to say, “takes one to know one.” 

(You’re not sure how.)

And on it goes. On, and on, and on. More questions, more answers, more lighthearted shoves and lingering touches and shy glances away from each others’ scorching gazes as heat rushes to your cheeks. He even shows you his record collection and puts on one of his favourite albums for background noise before you settle back into the couch. It’s so natural, even when the vinyl runs to the end and the only noise from the player is a distant crackle. Being in his space and having mindless conversation after mindless conversation feels almost as comfortable as being in your own home. 

You notice something, as you’re rounding off a monologue about why your highschool math teacher was the worst person you’d ever met. A tiny hair on the apple of his cheek. One of those lashes you envy so much. Even as you try to focus back on your closing remarks, your eyes keep dropping to it and you trail off into silence a few words short.

“I’m sorry, you’ve-… got an eyelash,” you say, tapping roughly the same spot on your own cheek. 

“Mm. I have a few of them,” Vernon counters, wiping the heel of his thumb against his skin. He misses, though, and drops his arm back down with the lash still stuck to his face. 

You move before you can stop yourself, hand lifting up to his face and hovering just a few centimetres away.

“Can I?” you ask. 

Vernon nods, wordlessly. He goes cross-eyed and his lids twitch in a flutter as he watches you get closer; you brush the lash onto your thumb and he only breathes again when you rebalance it on the tip of your finger.  You hold it up to him, settling back into your own part of the couch; he just stares back at you. 

“Make a wish,” you prompt. 

His confusion is poorly concealed, head cocked to one side as he looks from the lash to you and back again. “Huh?”

“Don’t you…?”

He shakes his head. 

“Okay, wow,” you laugh, glancing down at your finger too. “You have to make a wish on your eyelashes when they fall out.”

“No, I got that part,” Vernon snickers. “I just mean — why?”

“I—” you start to explain, but you fall short of an explanation and frown instead, biting the inside of your cheek. “… I don’t know. It’s just what you’re supposed to do. I’ve always done it.”

The downturn of your lips doesn’t last very long, though. 

“Well, what if it’s not an eyelash? What if it’s like… one of my eyebrows, or something?” He asks. 

It's such a simple but off-the-wall response that you can't help but laugh, except it comes on so suddenly you start to choke on your own saliva. One of his hands circles around you and rubs soothingly between your shoulder blades as you cough, succeeding in bringing him even closer and failing to lower the fever you’re starting to feel creep up on you. By some miracle, you don’t drop the lash, even as you hack pathetically into the crook of your elbow; Vernon waits for it to subside, a weirdly fond look on his face all the while.

Now, when you turn your head, he’s right there. In your space. His arm still around your back, the glint of the bar pierced through his brow drawing your attention up away from those smiling lips. 

“I guess it just doesn’t come true? I don’t know,” you say, shaking your head. “I’ve never tried wishing on an eyebrow before.”

“I’m just saying,” he starts, falling back against the cushions now he knows you’re not suffocating. His arm doesn’t move, though. If anything, he sort of pulls you with him. “What if it ends up like a reverse wish. Whatever I ask for, the opposite comes true, or something.”

“If you don’t want it, I’ll take it,” you say, starting to bring your finger closer to yourself. 

Quicker than you can blink, he reaches to you and lightly lays his fingers around your wrist, stopping you in your path.

“Wait,” he says, pouting a little. “I didn’t say that.”

Both of you glance down to this new point of contact. Two sets of lips stay parted but two identical breaths remain held, burning in both your lungs and in Vernon’s. His gaze shifts back up to your face, eyes wide and wholly serious and unblinking. 

“What do I do?” He asks on the eventual exhale. It reminds you to breathe again, too.

“Close your eyes.”

It takes him a second to obey, but he does. His eyes flutter closed and you clear your throat, lifting your finger until it’s just in front of his face. 

“Make a wish.”

A few seconds later, his brows relax and he nods. 

“Then… blow.”

His lips purse and he pushes a breath through them, lifting the stray lash off your skin and sending it out into the room. He opens his eyes, then, smiling in a manner that you can tell is absolutely despite himself. 

He doesn’t move away, and his cologne, fresh and citrusy, mixes tantalisingly with the sandalwood candle he lit on your way back to the couch a little while ago, both accented by the chewing gum he popped to get rid of the mocha aftertaste still lingering on his breath.

“What did you wish for?” You ask, dropping your hand back down to your side.

He frowns. 

“I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you,” he says. “Pretty sure that’s against like… wish laws, or something.”

“Boring,” you chide, slumping your shoulders, but he just grins at you, darting his tongue out over his lips.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his Adam’s apple bob in a thick swallow and you can feel the gentle brushing of his thumb. The slow movements, up and down over the exposed area on your hip where your shirt has started to ride up, make you shiver, and you know your chest stutters when his fingers move to press wholly against your bare skin. You know he notices, because he does it again. And again, and again. 

It's maddening. You end up stuck in this never-ending feeling of falling head-first into his arms.

“Where do you think the laws stand on showing you, though?” He asks, inching a little closer.

You hold your breath, little more than anticipatory static flooding your brain. 

“I think they’re okay with it.”

You mirror, slowly, hooked in the gaze that has adrenaline dripping down the length of your spine like honey, and you can’t bring yourself to look away until you can practically taste him. He closes the space between you in half speed, but gently, like you’re both made of tissue, he brings his thumb and forefinger to your chin and touches his lips to yours. His nose presses against your cheek. 

It’s comfortable. It’s warm. It’s easy, it’s exhilarating, it’s perfect. You feel like your heart just might burst clean out of your chest—

But… you can’t.  

“I’m so sorry,” you gasp, tugging yourself away and clamping your hands over your mouth. “Shit — I’m-… I’m sorry.”

Out of nowhere, you’re fighting to catch a breath, head spinning in circles, and no longer in the good way. Have those beers finally come back to bite you in the ass? Or, deeper down, do you know your sudden intoxication isn’t alcohol related at all? Vernon shoots back from you like you’ve gone up in flames and he might catch, too — his eyes search your face as you scramble to get to your feet, and he looks… scared. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. You don’t respond right away, already looking around the apartment for where you left your shoes, already trying to locate your bag too. (As you try to swim towards the surface, you forget that it wasn’t you who still had hold of it when you came through the door and placed it on the loveseat back in the living room.) “Hey… is everything-…?”

“I’m fine,” you interrupt. You’re not. “I just-… I remembered-… I have to go.” 

You catch sight of your shoes, hidden behind the ones Vernon kicked off just after you, and you hurry across the apartment to get to them. 

No bag. Where’s your bag? Where did you leave it? But… ah, your keys are in one back pocket and your phone is in the other and maybe it’s not the end of the world if you never see that lipstick again—

“It’s really late,” Vernon says as you bend down to re-tie one of your laces, hovering just a few steps behind you. “Are you gonna be okay to get home?”

“I’ll be fine,” you rush. “I’ll get a cab.”

“Well, at least let me wait with you until it—”

“I said I’m fine,” you insist, you snap, only now looking up at him again. He tenses, but his eyes stay soft. It’s not in the same way you’ve seen them all night, though. Not in a nice way. Not glittering and full of intrigue. No. He’s hurt. And like a wounded animal, he takes several stiff, unsure steps back away from you, swallowing hard and looking anywhere, everywhere else. 

“I’m fine,” you say again, trying to sound a little quieter, a little calmer.  Even if that is miles away from the truth. 

“Okay,” he says, unconvinced and wringing his hands in front of his stomach. “If-… I’m sorry if that was-… I didn’t mean to make you-…”

You shake your head, standing back up to your full height, but you don’t close the gap between you. You don’t reach out to him, even though you want to. You just have to blindly hope he can read your mind somehow — there’s no way to explain it quickly enough without leaving you both in a mess, and right now... 

“Hey,” you say, forcing him to look at you once more. “It’s not-… it isn’t you. I just have to go, okay?”

He doesn’t seem overly reassured by this, but he nods anyway. “Can-… you text me when you get home?” He asks. Then, hurried: “Just so I know you’re back safe. That’s all.” 

You swallow hard. 

“Yeah,” you say on an outward breath, cringing at how exasperated it sounds. You don’t mean it to — you’re really not mad at him. “I will. I’ll message you.”

Biting the inside of his bottom lip, Vernon takes another step back. He doesn’t say anything else, just shoves his hands as far into the pockets of his jeans as he can and watches you. 

“I’ll message you,” you repeat, opening the door, speaking more to yourself than to him. “I promise.” 

Then, you’re stumbling out into his hallway. Hurrying down the too-narrow staircase. Leaning your back against the brickwork outside, a light drizzle of rain splashing all over your bare arms. The stone prickles through your t-shirt as you slide down, as you feebly try to suck thick, damp air into your lungs, as your head starts to ache, as a dull throb starts to reside behind your eyes. 

It takes ten minutes of staring into the empty road in front of you before you feel steady enough to attempt to wrestle your phone out of your pocket. No matter how many buttons you press, no matter how many times you tap it, the screen refuses to come to life and you only now manage to recall the ‘low battery’ notification that came through several hours ago. Briefly, it crosses your mind to go back upstairs and ask if you can request a ride on Vernon’s phone. You know he’d say yes. Hell, he’d probably throw a blanket over your shivering shoulders and fix you another cup of coffee while you waited, too. But you can’t. The look on his face as you slid out his front door is burned into your memory like a brand and there surely couldn’t be anything worse than having to go back in there and face him like this.

Five more minutes pass before you find the energy to stand, to stretch out your bunched up muscles, and start on the walk home. Another thirty until you’re trudging, sodden and blurry eyed and heavy-hearted, through your apartment door. Three and a half after that before you finally manage to text Vernon to say your phone died, but you’re back, you’re safe. That you’re sorry. 

Barely ten seconds tick by before it pops up that he reads your message. (Followed by ninety seconds of staring down at the bubble that says he’s typing, waiting for a reply that ultimately doesn’t come.)

And four hours later, you’re still wide awake, lying under your covers, staring blankly up at the ceiling. You think you ought to be giddy, squirming, hiding your smile in your pillow — that’s how first kisses are supposed to make you feel. Isn’t it? Alas, you’re flooded instead with visions of the last time a first kiss felt like it made this much sense; in place of all the endorphins you’re sure should be ricocheting off every inner surface of your brain, all you know is heartache and dread. 

So you stare, and you stare, and you keep on staring; even when your eyes start to burn, you stare a little more. 

thank u so much for reading, i hope you enjoyed it! as always, likes, reblogs, comments & feedback are so so appreciated. parts 2 and 3 are very nearly finished, as well, so stay tuned.<3

[twinkleallnight]

Fandom: TRR AU/ Once upon a time prequel

Series: Estranged

Pairings:Liam x Savannah

Word count:2180

Disclaimer: All characters belong to pixelberry.

Rating: Mature

Warning: none

A/N: The @kingliamappreciationweek (day 4 ) made me dust some old drafts and bring this forgotten tale to you. Thank you @lizzybeth1986 for bringing life back into my writing by encouraging me and beta reading this.

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Cordonia, nine years ago. Liam’s study.

“Father, I dont think we need to have the whole social season and waste money.”

Constantine chuckled, “So, I can call Godfrey and Madeliene back from England. Thank goodness. At Least, one of my son saved some grace.”

“Father, I never said anything about Countess Madeliene.”

“Who is it then?”

Liam grinned like a fool in love thinking about her. “Someone you know and you have loved and cared about all these years.”

“I care for her as a royal responsibility although I never liked her, Liam. But I am fine if you choose Olivia. At least it’s someone who will be loyal to you. I have done enough for her and this is the least she can do to repay.”

Liam’s jaw dropped listening to Constantine’s thoughts. But it was not the right time to nudge him on that. “Father, it’s not Olivia.” He said just a note above a whisper.

“Who else then?”

Liam looked down at the majestic blue carpet, a smile playing on his lips. “Savannah.”

“Savannah who?”

“Savannah Jane Walker, sir.” Liam said puzzled at his father’s incomprehensibility. “Daughter of your most loyal kings guard and friend.”

“That commoner? Oh Liam, you are just like your father. Falling so easily for some random dame. Guess what? You are a royal, son. You can have all such damsels dancing to your tune. And you can even choose someone as your mistress.”

Liam was disgusted at such a cheap thought. But he tried to maintain the decorum. “Father, I am serious. I really like her and would want to marry her.”

Constantine fumed, “How can you disrespect me like that Liam? You are the crown prince. The whole country is looking up to you. They want to see a queen by your side. Not some roadside commoner, who doesn’t know a thing about what’s it to be noble alone, forget being royalty. This is preposterous and utterly irresponsible behaviour on your part. I am so disappointed in you at this moment, Liam.”

“Father...”

“No, Liam. You can’t betray me like this. Not after what Leo did. My son, my hard work, my life, everything depends upon your this one decision. Don’t let me down my child. Not you too.” He choked.

The air felt thick around Liam. He loosened his tie trying to breathe. The burden of the throne was feeling heavy on his shoulders. He sat down on the sofa with a thud, unlike his gentle mannerisms. How many times he had to sacrifice his wishes for the country?

“A commoner will never fit in the nobility of Cordonia, Liam. You need to be practical.” Constantine said in a pleading tone.

“You are right, father.” Liam closed his eyes. “A commoner will never fit. Mother did not fit . Even if she tried, they won’t let her live. You are right, father. A commoner will never fit.”

He got up with a resolution in his mind, thinking of Savannah, feeling her love giving him strength. He bent over the table in front of Constantine and looked him straight into his eyes.

“If a commoner like mother could not fit, how can her poor son fit in, father? I think you need a pure blood to carry your legacy ahead.”

“Liam, you are crossing line.”

“No Father, I am creating a line for you to stop at. I did everything you asked me to do. I stood firm for your nobility, on my own mother’s funeral, when all I wanted to do was hug her and cry. I accepted Regina even before I was done mourning for my mother, because you needed a queen besides. I sat sincerely for all my classes and trainings. I picked up the burden of Leo’s responsibilities for you.” He heaved.

“You dont get all these luxuries for free, Liam. This palace, the richest, the comforts are all I built up.”

Liam started laughing making Constantine stop and look at him in confusion. Liam scoffed, “I should have known, you can only love yourself.”

“Liam!”

“No, Father. I have been what you wanted me to be, what this country wanted me to be. But this country needs stability too which I can give them.” Liam emphasized by slapping his chest , clearly showing Constantine, who is in power. “Savannah brings me that calmness and peace. So if you want me, you get us together or you may start searching for a new heir. “

Liam slammed his hands on the table and stomped off leaving a speechless Constantine.

That evening , Liam decided to meet Savannah. He phoned her and to his amazement she called him to her room. He had never dared to openly visit her but he was done hiding so he walked down undeterred to the chambers in the left wing. The door was wide open. He was deep in his thoughts and entered in without knocking. He stopped in his tracks. Tariq sat idly on the recliner, checking something on his phone. The bed in front of him had a suitcase half filled. Savannah walked out of the walk in closet and chimed, “Prince Liam!”

Tariq straightened up and greeted, “What a pleasant surprise! What brings you here?”

Liam couldn’t understand what Tariq was doing with Savannah? “You are going out somewhere?” he asked.

“Yes Li. Savannah agreed to accompany me on my next business trip."

Liam still was clueless. He had too many thoughts running in his mind. He waved off what Tariq said and turned to Savannah . “I need to talk to you. “

“Yes, please go ahead.”

“Tariq?” Liam asked in a tone demanding privacy.

Tariq fumbled with his belongings and got up. “Sure Li.” He waved at Savannah throwing a flying kiss at her, “ See you soon, beautiful.”

What shocked Liam even more was Savannah giggling at the flirtation. “What was that?” he couldn’t resist but ask.

“Nothing.” She said smiling still looking after where he left.

“What am I missing? Why is he sending you flying kisses. ” Liam probed again.

“Oh that?” Savannah shyly looked away, folding the clothes in her hands. “He proposed yesterday.”

“He what? “

“He proposed and since then he has not stopped making it public to each and every one.”

“Savannah, let me get this straight. He proposed and you said no. “

“ Why will I say no to such a lucrative offer?”

“Savannah, are you in your senses? You are telling me that you accepted Tariq’s proposal?”

“Yes, silly. Stop beating around. “ She started meticulously rolling her socks into pairs and placing them in the bag.

“Savannah! Please stop it. What kind of joke is this?”

She stopped and looked at Liam repeating in a serious tone, “Its not a joke Liam. I am engaged to Tariq.”

Liam lunged at her, grabbing her shoulders and jerking her. “What about us? What were we doing all these years?”

Savannah shook his arms away and moved out of his clutches. “That was two young people having fun.”

Liam looked at her in disbelief. “I thought you loved me Savannah.”

“I loved you.” She whispered. But the next moment she turned away to harden her heart before she spoke. “But things have changed now. You are not the spare anymore. You need to understand Liam. You are going to be a king. There will be tons and tons of never ending responsibilities. I can’t just submerge myself under all that weight and spoil my youth and my life.”

Liam was shocked to see this image of Savannah. “And you think you will enjoy yourself with a person like Tariq?”

“Definitely yes. He has all the money I need. He goes on lot of business trips , so I get to see the world. He has contacts with all the who’s who so I get to be in the best company without carrying the burden I have to carry with u.”

“I can’t believe I loved you, Savannah. You turned out to be a chameleon. How can you be daughter of a man like Jackson or sister of my best friend Drake? You seriously can’t be this shallow.”

“Oh please! Don’t start a lecture now. I am packing for a cruise to Thailand. Don’t spoil my mood.”

Liam started walking away agitatedly. He stopped at her doorsteps and turned around to look at her one last time. “Bon Voyage!”

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The Royal Caribbean Cruise ship

Savannah sat on the desk in her cabin, trying to write a letter.

“Dear mom,

By the time this letter reaches you, I will be far away.” she shook her head and crumpled the paper.

“Dear mom,

I am pregnant…” she sucked in a breath thinking about her mother's reaction to dropping a bomb with a news like that. She tore off this one into tiniest pieces so that no one knows.

“Dear mom,

I know you must be worried about my whereabouts…”

She let out a sigh. ‘This will do’, she thought. She took some time to jot down the details for her mother. She was folding the letter when there was a knock on the door. She opened it to let Tariq in. She pushed the letter in an envelope and sealed it.

“We are reaching Port Said in some time, Savannah.” Tariq informed her.

“I will get my bags ready.” She got up.

Tariq stopped her. “Savannah, you don't have to do this. You can stay. Just come along. It will be a good distraction.”

“Thank you. But I have many things to sort out before,” she abruptly stopped. She can't spill it in front of Tariq. So she tried to cover up. “...before next season.”

“As you wish. I would still suggest that you should try talking it out with him. He is a good man, Savannah. We have been close friends.”

“I know. I have known him since I was a toddler, Tariq. But this whole mess cannot be sorted out just by talking. He has to stand for his country. I can't stand besides him in that role. And staying there, watching him so closely will be very painful. It's for the good.”

Savannah bid Tariq goodbye, thanking him for all his help and deported on the port of Egypt. She found the nearest courier service and sent the letter to her mother. She proceeded to her final destination immediately.

It was a long journey of two days via road and ferry. Finally after a few more days of settling down in the small village, Savannah sat one day on the serene banks of the river Golo. A lot had happened in the past few days. And all she could do was pen it down.

So she decided to find closure through a letter.

Liam,

I love you. I will always love you. I am sorry I had to leave. I am sorry I hurt you. But I couldn't bear the rift that was being created within your family because of me.

Li, you have been beside me since I was a little girl. You made me feel like a princess even when you had the real ones fawning over you. You spoiled me, you pampered me, you loved me and I can't thank my stars for having you in my life. But sometimes that's not enough.

I know you will be disturbed by what transpired. You will be upset, but when your people and your country needs you, I know you will leave everything aside and you will again stand up and be the great person you are, Liam. I admire you for this strength, grit and determination that you always display. I hope I am able to teach our child these amazing qualities of yours.

Yes Li, we are going to have a baby. You are going to be a father soon. It's sad that you will never know but believe me I wanted to tell you. I came to share the good news with you but the way your father turned the whole conversation into an emotional hurricane for you, I knew you would have to agree with him. I didn't want to put you in a dilemma. I did what I could think of that moment to push you away from me, to give you the freedom to choose your duties.

Someday, when and if we ever meet, I hope you will realise and understand my actions and forgive me. Till then I am going to keep your memories and your love safely hidden in my heart.

You have a lot happening around you and the world isn't a fair place. I want you to take care of yourself, my love and I promise to look after our baby till we meet next.

Until then..

Au revoir Liam

Yours always

Savannah Jane Walker - Rhys.

She read it a few more times until the tears started blotting the written words. She then let the letter down the stream of river and watched as the black ink on the paper vanished into the blue waters and the wet paper drowned into the nethers of the river.

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Next chapter

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[gardenerian]

Hi Mel! I hope you are well?

Here are some wintery questions if you feel like answering, no worries if not!

- If Ian and Mickey tried to build a snowman, would they be successful?

- do they ever light a scented winter candle, if so….what is the scent?

- does showering/bathing together become more frequent in the colder months?

- what winter movies do the watch?

omg hi calli! these look like so much fun ty! ❄️☃️

would they be successful? probably. do they build the same snowman? not even a little bit. ian goes into it with a classic snowman in mind. mickey wants to make something obscene. in the end, their snowman has your standard stick arms, scarf, and buttons.... but it also has a giant carrot cock and snow balls. it's probably also smoking a carrot blunt, and mickey has taped beer cans to each of its poor stick hands. they take selfies with it, dying with laughter, and bombard the family groupchat. i also have an idea that mickey would make one that looks like lip and film himself kicking it askdfjh

i can picture them getting a holiday-themed scented candle as a gift from one of their west side neighbors. it sits unlit for weeks bc they think it's incredibly fucking stupid... why does it smell like fuckin gingerbread? one night ian is making dinner and lights the candle for a little ambience. mickey comes wandering into the kitchen a little while later, absolutely delighted by the smell. thus begins mickey's lifelong interest in scented candles 🕯 he loves the sugary scented ones the most, but ian insists they branch out into other scents. they are eventually incorporated into romantic bath time, ofc.

winter showers are an immediate pastime once they live alone! they come home from a long day at work in the chicago cold, and ian runs them a hot shower while mickey rummages in the fridge for a couple of beers. they sip and warm up and smooch a bunch and fool around until their skin is all pruny, then they get out and finish what they started 😇

die hard is mickey's favorite christmas movie askdfh also i feel like ian really, really loves elf. he quotes it all season long. he bursts into every room like I'M IN LOVE I'M IN LOVE AND I DON'T CARE WHO KNOWS IT and liam just looks up like 😐 yeah we know. debbie makes them watch love actually and mickey is of the (correct) opinion that just about everyone in that movie is a terrible person and also they wear too many turtlenecks!!!!

[grigori77]

Critical Role, Campaign 3 Episode 113

A five hour episode? Oh yeah, that means it's gonna be a serious one. I'm already nervous ...

What the hell is this? Oh dear gods this is bizarre ... Sam, you are a strange one ... okay, I'm sorry, watching Robbie through this bit is SO WILD ... his expressions are always so priceless ... and suddenly it's all like THIS ... weird shit ... that one was ... just ODD ...

Critmas music? Interesting ...Sam: "SOME of us can sing!" Yeah ...

"Secrets in your boxers?" Please, I never have to hear that line uttered ever again. Like EVER. Please ...

So we're still in the company of Vox Machina? Okay, then ... wonder if this might be their very final adventure together? It worries me, knowing what they're going up against ...

Meanwhile Scanlan has to let his current crew down easy ... wait ... YOU DID WHAT, Scanlan? O.O Samuel Tiegle, DO NOT do that to us ... we know this gnome is a little bit of a wrong-un, but he's never been THAT wrong ...

"Keg"? Oh, so we're introducing a character JUST to send them off? Interesting ... yeah, I figured Grog would probably like Kent ... wow, this bunch are just a bunch of frat boys, ain't they?

Who gave Sam coconut shells? Ye gods ...

Good point ... IS THIS the new Scanlan Shorthalt? Is he staying like this? Would it be easier for him to change back, or is there time for him to change back?

Now we're having a conversation about Scanlan pooping. I love these people so much ... XD

He has ZERO Dexterity? Hmmmm ... maybe we should rethink this after all ...

Grog can make him some horse boots? Oh, that sounds like fun ...

Yes. Time to go. Going through a tree, then. Back to Vasselheim. This is getting to be a second home for them now, isn't it?

Checking in for the night, then. Okay ...

Catching up, then? Oh, Keyleth and Percy ... I mean, yeah, these two have been together the longest, haven't they? The best of besties, I've missed this ... but yeah, also ... very heartfelt, of course ... they do need this ...

I love how Percy calls Keyleth "an investment in their children's future" ... that could sound a bit weird coming from anybody else. With these two it's just CUTE ... :3

Trinket? Oh, okay ... WHICH one is this? Is it the original? Oh my gods IT IS ... O.O ... poor ancient bear ...

Ah ... yes ... the Vax situation ...

Only Vex could wish ill on the Matron and actually GET AWAY with it ... XD

Awwwww ... sweet old bear cuddle-buddy ... I imagine he's quite stinky, but it's still sweet ...

Oh my gods ... is Scanlan trying for a booty call? With GROG asleep in the room? This could be interesting ... oh, okay ... wow, yeah, she's just LETTING HIM HAVE IT, isn't she? Don't go easy on him, Pike! He doesn't deserve it!

Meat Man Imports & Sexports ... snort ... LOL

He's being relegated to AN EXTRA BED?!!! Oh my ...

Grog pretending to sleep fools NOBODY. I love it.

Boy, that is an AWKWARD sleeping arrangement for a centaur, clearly ...

Wow, Cerkonos is kind of a secret Scanlan superfan, that's hilarious. "the Scanman"? Oh my fucking gods ... LOL

Early morning arrives ... okay ...

Travis just rolled a lethal death roll for Chetney! O.O But he's GROG right now ... does it count? Somewhere on Ruidus Chetney just felt a chill run down his spine like somebody walked over his grave, I swear ...

The various preparations of the arrayed forces, getting ready for the day ahead ... hmmmmmmmm ...

Nice, so the Pale Guard are basically like Sharp's Rifles? That's pretty cool, I can't deny ...

A summons for Kiki? Okay, then ...

Massive brass-scaled dragon? Oh yeah, awesome ...

The Stratos Throne? Really? That's a big deal ... O.O ... AND Aeshanandoor? Don't those guys HATE each other right now? Interesting they're playing nice for the effort ...

Oh yeah, EVERYBODY'S here right now ... it's a big deal all right ...

Lieve'tel? Oh ... OH, a guest? OH OKAY!!! LIam's back! So THIS is who he's playing ...

Nice ... so we got a real badass super-goth elven dominatrix type helping them out in this one, then? Nice ... yeah, this is a great one for Liam to play, definitely ...

So she already knows Bertrand's gone? Yeah, okay ...

Yeah, so please be aware I haven't had a chance to get round to The Search For Grog or The Search For Bob yet, so I'm NOT familiar with this particular character ... but she seems REALLY COOL ...

Wow ... yeah, she's just REALLY INTENSE, isn't she? Like I said, I'm really liking her already ...

Judicators? Oh, okay then ... nice to have them on OUR SIDE for once ...

Ophera? Cool ... yeah, she's really cool too ... and THIS is a very neat trick, too ... yeah, she's definitely a whole lot better at big entrances than Keyleth ...

Celestials? SERIOUSLY?!!! Holy fuck! O.O Oh yeah, this is just ALL the big guns right now!

Oh okay ... Keyleth's turn to make a fancy speech? Hmmmm ... PLEASE roll good for this delivery, Marisha ... Matthew, you are NOT doing anything for our girl's confidence right now ... oh yes, nice going, Vex ... that's JUST what she needs right now ...

Yeah ... okay, that's a strong start already ... yes. YES. Nice. That's it. Be a woman for the people. And ... "FUCK SHIT UP!!!" Oh boy ... XD ... yeah, that's more like it ... THAT'S our girl. :3

A single raven? Oh my gods ...

Inspirational Leader? Nice ... oh yeah, that is REALLY nice! Way to go, Kiki!

Nice to have a broomstick handy for running speedy errands ...

And now it's a massive SILVER dragon ... okay ... O.O

Allura! Yay! Always nice to see her! :3

Oh, so they're going in via skyship? Cool. I wonder which one THEY'RE gonna ride in on? What are the chances, hmmm? Or might that be a little TOO on the nose?

Well yeah, I mean Grog would've been FINE with just jumping headfirst into a crazy suicide attack like that, but ...

Yeah, probably best to leave Trinket behind for this one ...

Speak With Animals! Yay! Awwwwww ... and OF COURSE he still wants to go with her ... he's so sweet ... and yeah, he's still tough, of course he is ... all right, let the ancient bear come ...

Thank fuck Sam isn't ACTUALLY drinking out of that horrific looking thing, that is UNSIGHTLY!!! Travis: "It's like melted plastic mixed with decay!" Sweet fuck that is NIGHTMARE FUEL ... Sam: "I mean it's been cleaned, like, A LOT, but it hasn't worked!"

"Battlestar season 3"? Okay ... yeah, so they're all just going STRAIGHT INTO that shit, then ... so a retroactive Heroes' Feast is probably a good idea, then ... yeah ...

Wow ... yeah ... D&D maths ... always fun ...

Oh ... so Cerkonos LIKES Lieve'tel? Okay, then ... so no matter what, Robbie's just DETERMINED to romance Liam's characters, clearly ... XD

Fucking hell ... Grog has around THREE HUNDRED HIT POINTS right now? O.O Sweet fuck ...

Archivist Seth Domade? Okay, then ... yeah, this just got interesting ... I mean OF COURSE he's curious about what's happening with the Nein AND the Hells ... oh yeah, our boy is FLUSTERED right now ... Essek, be cool right now, boy ...

Holy shit ... HOW LONG did it take them to realise that this is Essek in disguise? DEAR FUCKING GODS, people! LOL You do know you spent TWO WHOLE SESSIONS traveling with this guy ...

Verin Thelyss? Oh, interesting ... are they related? THEY ARE?!!! So this is Essek's BROTHER? Intriguing ...

Oh, so he's a little bit of a geek? I like that. That's quite adorable. And I think he might be a little sweet on Vex ...

Ah, poetry... yeah ... LOL

Allura informs us the Nein and the Hells are now IN POSITION on Ruidus ... okay, then ... time to make a move, then ...

Matt: "The symbol of war has been triggered." Oh my ...

Fuck ... PLEASE let Percy and Vex get back alive to their kids.

The hoof boots? And somehow Travis rolls a 24 on his performance for their construction ... holy shit ... apparently they're completely PERFECT ... O.O

More Percy and Keyleth cuteness ... :3

Power Word Fortify ... and Death Ward? Lieve'tel bestows MASSIVE magical gifts upon Kiki and Vex ... and then she just goes RIGHT AHEAD and makes the first move on Cerkonos. Awwwwwww ... and he HAS to make it awkward. But she likes it ... XD

I fucking knew it ... OF COURSE they're riding with Xandis. LOL ... I love this ridiculous tiefling so much, I swear ...

So ... a fuckton of arcane portals, then ... this is it ...

"Majestic as fuck" ... Grog's awesome cape ... in his own words, of course ... XD

Awwwwwww ... Bertrand, we miss you still, you fantastic old bugger ...

So ... through into clustered shadow ... all right, what have you got in store for us, Matthew? O.O

Oh okay, that's a dramatic mess we're flying into ... and that's it, the first shots come in ... yup, that's it, it's all kicking off ...

Strength saves all round? Okay, first real rolls of the night! Roll good, guys! 33? Holy fuck, Grog ... he's stupid strong even now ...

Three crooked winged creatures coming out of the sky? Oh boy ... FUCK Vex is still a thoroughly EVIL shot ... Hunter's Mark that shit, girl! Yeah!

So Scanlan and Grog are the most prominent targets? SHIT ... I mean OF COURSE Grog succeeds his strength check, but Scanlan is now being CARRIED OFF by one of these things! Shit! O.O

Percy: "Drop the horse!" And yeah, No Mercy's still just as lethal a shot as the Missus ... BOOM!!! And the centaur is free once more ...

Path To the Grave? Fuck, Lieve'tel is a bit SCARY in combat ...

Kiki tries a Whirlwind attack on them ... yup, that proves impressively effective ... fuck, that thing just got PUMMELLED ... right into Grog's reach ... he swings his Bloodaxe TWICE ... and just SHREDS the beastie ...Oh yeah, that's TOTALLY the HDYWTDT ... fucking hell, he just EVISCERATES this thing ...

Oh yeah! Silver Dragon for the WIN!!! Nice one ...

Keyleth tries to take a look over the side and just gets BLINDED by flying dust ... yup, that's a bout right ...

Ah, so ... still a way to go, yet ...

Shit! DODGE!!! QUICK!!!

Well that was close ... and sounds like it could've been SERIOUSLY HAIRY if it had hit ... and then we see it hit another ship ... and it just NEUTRALISED the brumestone? FUCK!!! That's SO FUCKING BAD!!! Yeah, don't let ANY of THAT shit hit you, guys!

Air Ashari FLY!!! Oh, and Cerkonos can do that too? Oh, he can do ALL the elelments like Kiki? Sweet! So he's going too, then ... go help! Quick! Save who you can!

Yes! Save Verin Thelyss! Quick!

Oh nice! That's some SEXY FLYING there, Vex!

Okay, looks like this might be working ... and SOMEHOW they BARELY miss taking another hit ... get them off as fast as you can, guys!

Inspire THEM, not HIM! Pronouns, Scanlan! And somehow Sam makes a really embarrassing (and very classic Shorthalt piece of work) strangely inspiring for Xandis ...

Yeah, that's some pretty sweet flying, you spectacular tiefling!

Wow ... that was just a BEAUTIFUL save ... yeah, they got 'em off safe, just in time ... meanwhile the faling ship goes down SPECTACULARLY ...

Time to get ready to JUMP? All right, then ... GO!!!

Blessing of the Dawnfather? Oh, that's pretty sexy too ... I didn't even know Vex had that one in her! O.O

Thank fuck for Featherfall ...

Grog and Pike are getting SHOT AT?!!! Fuck ... O.O ... Word of Radiance? Yeah, that's a nice save, Lieve'tel! JUST too late, but still ... so Pike manages to dodge, but Grog takes a full-on HIT ... crap ... but he's Raging, so it's not TOO BAD ... but that's STILL a whole lot of Force damage even so ... and that's one ROUGH FUCKING LANDING ...

Oh, so it's already ALL GOING OFF in this place? Okay then ...

Cerkonos shows he's as much of a badass as the others as he comes down ... and yeah, that poor bastard is impaled and INCINERATED ... meanwhile our boy achieves a perfect superhero landing ...

Wait ... so the gunner is LITERALLY PONDERING THEIR ORB?!!! XD

No Mercy Percy strikes again!

Touchdown, then! They're on the ground and taking in what's going on now ... oh yeah, this is just pure fucking CHAOS right now ... the batle is just full-on KICKING OFF ... and THIS is where Matt chooses to call a break ...

Holy shit ... that is a MASSIVE Battlemap this time round ... yeah, the appreciative gasps and roars as they wander mback in to take it in are duly ENTHUSIASTIC, and rightly so ...

Setting up where everybody is ... and it's all just pure CHAOS right now, clearly ...

Oh, so now Keyleth's a FIRE elemental? Matt scrambles to acquire ANOTHER figure to represent her ...

So it's time, then. ROLL INITIATIVE!!!

Vex kicks it all off, then ... she casts a 4th Level Hail of Thorns, with her Blazing Bowstring and Sharpshooter ... wow ... that's a monster combination if ever I heard one ... so she goes for a Reiloran Juggernaut! Nice ... fuck, that's a lot of damage, plus it definitely rings his bell for him ... meanwhile all the regular guys surrounding him are just ANNIHILATED ... ouch ... so she takes ANOTHER shot ... oh yeah, she is SUPREMELY fucking this guy up ...

Scanlan clops up on his coconuts and Inspires Cerkonos ... with a bit of Chappell Roan? Nice ... :3 ... Reverse Gravity? Oh, that's DEVIOUS ... Out of the whole group only ONE manages to make a save so now there's a whole bunch of guys just FLOATING UP INTO THE SKY!!! Holy shit ...

Wow, those Kryn fighters are just BADASS, they're cutting folk TFU ...

Percy steps over the wall and encounters his first Reiloran ... oh, that's nice, so his walking stick turned into a brutal little MURDER BATON ... he shakes off the attempt to fry his brains with psychic energy and slashes them up ... it's hurt, but it's TOUGH, looks like this one's going to take some work ... oh, but his sword has A GUN IN IT ... Matt: "Go go gadget Pepperbox!" POW!!! Now the Reiloran is BURNING!!!

Grog charges up to the guy who's trying to hang on ... and manages to get HIMSELF caught in the spell? Shit! Somehow he manages to catch hold of himself, at least ... and takes a few big hacks at the other guy ... Great Weapon Master? Oh boy, here we go ... oh yeah, Grog kills the guy ON THE SPOT and then he just pinwheels up into the air spraying his insides all over as he goes! Ye gods! O.O

Keyleth jumps from one platform to the next, starts laying about with her fists, the burning Reiloran instantly incinerating under her pummelling onslaught! Oof ... then she runs off in the direction they need to go, setting another attacker on fire as they try to strike at her while she goes.

Lieve'tel summons a Planar Ally, specifically a massive white three-headed raven (literally Holy fuck!), then Tolls the Dead, aiming for the Juggernaut ... and that's a wrap on the big guy! HIs head essentially EXPLODES inside his helmet ... fucking hell ... so she just goes riding off on her big birdy, going to hover over Keyleth.

Oh great ... Scanlan is now being SWARMED by Slithers ... O.O ... oh yeah, they're just GNAWING on him right now! Fuck ... thankfully only TWO of them do any actual damage, but still ...

Crap ... what's this? Oh, I get it, that mut be one of those hive-mind psychic mothers ...

Meanwhile those poor bastards spinning in the air just CONTINUE to spin in the air ... XD ... crap ... now Keyleth is as well, unfortunately ...

Pike chucks a 5th Level Guiding Bolt at the Ball ... okay, this is it, then ... 22 points of damage? Hmmmm ... it CRACKS, but it's still definitely very INTACT ... nuts ...

Cerkonos screams: "Scanman! NOOOOOOO!!!" leaps into the air and casts Wall of Fire around Scanlan, torching the Slithers attacking him. Three of them are reduced to cinders, and the rest are at least SEVERELY charred ... then he just BAMFS next to Pike ...

Vex takes a shot at the Ball, using Sharpshooter ... NAT20!!! Yes! Crit that bitch! Oh, that's a whole lot more cracks in it now ... but she's just got herself directly MARKED by whatever that force is overlooking it ... but her SECOND shot SHATTERS the Ball on the spot! YESSSSSSS!!!

Scanlan casts Thunderwave as 2nd Level, trying to bash some of the Slithers off ... he turns two of them into jelly on the spot! Meanwhile he drops his spell ... and everybody up in the air too! Grog manages to avoid getting crushed, while all but two of them just go SPLAT when they hit the ground around him. Meanwhile Scanlan disengages, trying to use Cutting Words to get rid of the remaining Slither still grappling him ... and breaks free! Phew ...

Fucking hell ... what fresh hell is THIS?!!! O.O ... a battle vidulch? Oh my gods that is fucking TERRIFYING!!! Oh shit, TWO OF 'EM?!!! Shit! They start laying about and IMMEDIATELY start doing major damage to friends and foes alike ...

Shit ... in a single turn, the attacking vidulch manages to COMPLETELY DESTROY Keyleth's Fire Elemental form ... O.O

Percy opens fire with Animus on some of the Vanguard, only for his gun to blow up in his hands! Ouch ... repairing iton the spot, he starts firing again, wiping out one in the process.

Grog uses his Boots (not BOOBS) of Feral Leaping to mount the nearst vidulch, then starts swinging blows into it with his axe ... oh yeah, he's just CHOPPING CHUNKS out of this thing! It's trying to shake him off but he's definitely cutting his way into it already.

Oh no, bad ideas are never REALLY bad ideas ... Keyleth attempts to Dominate the vidulch in front of her? Holy fuck ... O.O ... that's the question, IS IT a beast or is it a MONSTER? She can't tell ... so she tries a Firestorm instead! Oh boy ... whoa, SEVEN D10 of Fire damage? Holy shit ... 48 Fire damage? Wow ... it hurts the vidulch, as well as incinerating a bunch of Reilora and Vanguard. Unfortunately she also takes out three Kryn soldiers with friendly fire ... oof ... then she transforms into an Earth Elemental and burrows down under the ground, coming up on the other side of the vidulch.

DEVILS? Seriously? Is this good or bad? Wait ... who's this ... holy fuck is that OPAL?!!! Fucking hell, my girl you're terrifying but also pretty awesome right now! She doesn't do any real damage, but she's still laying into the vidulch with some serious SAVAGERY!!!

Lieve'tel holds onto a Bless, waiting for her opportunity, aiming for Opal, Keyleth and herself.

Okay, now Grog is having a scrap with the Juggenaut on the back of the vidulch ... unbelievable! Oh hell, this big boy is definitely laying into him HARD right now ... and it has a Telekinetic Combo? Shit ... Grog hangs on, but it definitely batters him about ... so he just starts giving right back just as hard as he's taken ...

Pike chucks a Guiding Bolt at the vidulch at 4th Level, blasting it hard with a good chunk of Radiant damage. Staying put, she's immediately swarmed by a bunch of nasties, but she just batters them all off ...

Cerkonos, impressed by Scanlan's actions, turns himself into a Fire Elemental and funnels himself INTO THE ARMOUR of the nearer vidulch, setting it on fire FROM THE INSIDE!!! Holy shit!

Vex coasts over and starts peppering Pike's attacker with her arrows, wiping him out on the spot. Then she turns round and starts taking potshots at the vidulch, taking some of its legs out from under it.

Scanlan rushes up to the aid of the nearest angel, talling them: "I'm here to help!" before VOMITING Lightning at the nearer vidulch! O.O

Brass wings? Oh sweet! Here they come! Beautiful! Devossa strafes the devil and the vidulch with their fire, but since they're both immune to fire it does ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ... hmmmmm ... somewhat inticlimactic ...

Grog takes a big swing at the Juggernaut and just ANNIHILATES the fucker on the spot! Then he leaps off and goes for the Reiloran instead, using Great Weapon Master ... oh yeah, here we go ... yeah, he just SPLITS THE GUY IN HALF!!! He yanks out the spine from the bisected corpse as he walks away ...

Oh, okay ... yeah, due to retrospective thinking, Grog also manages to finish off the vidulch just before he jumps off ... okay, yeah, there we go, then! Meanwhile Scanlan congratulates CERKONOS for doing it? Hmmmm ...

Keyleth Calls Lightning at 4th Level, landing it right into the remaining vidulch ... oooh, dice math ... 27 points of Lightning damage ... yeah, it's looking pretty messy now ...

Okay, looks like everybody's just trying to kill this thing all together ... meanwhile more Vanguard are arriving! Shit ...

Oh, so Pike just got rescued by a demon? That must be weird for her ... especially when it growls: "Go, small god!" at her ...

Yeah, Opal just becomes TERRIFYING as she jumps on the vidulch, webs it up and then CARVES IT TO PIECES ... O.O ... holy shit ...

Time to book, then? Okay ... they all bundle together and rush into the centre of the fortress, heading for the Malleus Key ... and that's it for the night! Yeah, that's a good place to stop. I was getting pretty exhaunsted, that was a HEAVY SESSION ... but also a very satisfying one ...

[chussyracing]

first of all, i must say that i'm always so impressed by your "world of motorsports" posts - it's clear that there is so much work put into it yet it is still perfectly organized and SO informative!

since i didn't want to look a fool and claim esteban will have the first female race engineer in f1 history without verifying (unlike a certain alpine driver lmao) i looked at ruth buscombe's linkedin and it shows she has served as simulation development engineer and race strategist at ferrari, trackside strategy engineer at haas, and head of race strategy at sauber. so never a race engineer but still very important roles!

and ollie oakes was previously team principal and director at hitech! he also was possibly a co-founder of hitech in its current iteration? anyway even if flavio's interest in flavio has died down (do i believe flavio? hell no) i do think paul aron serves just as much of a threat to jack :( considering all the rumors about alpine converting to hitech (please don't let this be a return of mazepin)

hope that clears up some things! and again super impressive work with the "world of motorsports" posts!

thank you for the whole ask!!! can you tell at one point i see the information in multiple sources and just stop deepdiving to know more? 😂

it got a bit long so i will put it under the cut (i fear i am a yapper when it comes to f1 and i do love to have someone to chat with about it)

i knew ruth did sim because she went into detail how she has motion sickness and this was just going over and over and over through the same laps into the smallest detail and it always left her feeling sick (poor ruth said she is probably the only person in history to get lighter after going to italy 🥲) however i didn't know she did trackside strategy, so i will look more into that since it sounds interesting. do they walk around the track and spot the difficult places? like when she spoke about baku (? damn or was it hungary? i heard the interview recently and cannot remember) that she looked at the distances and knew exact places where a car would cause immediate red flag and where it could be a vsc/sc which helped to massively speed up the process of decision making in the whole strategy department. but is it really this role? i will find out 😉

as for alpine, this is pure speculation on my side but from everything i gathered by now, it points out to the team becoming hitech in 2026 (or later on) when briatore can sell the team. [unfounded rumours ahead] oakes has first buyer clause on alpine in his contract with alpine. briatore has direct orders he has to get the team in shape (aka appealing to investors - better performance, stable engine supplier without the reputation of weak power or reliability issues, more sponsorship deals and brave partnerships outside of the sport to appeal other departments, new faces in the team and all that jazz) and then he shall find the best offer. [end of unfounded rumours and a side note: all of the team no matter how bad in performance or small in factory/fanbase size are currently making big bucks. we are talking sauber and williams and haas. they are all currently profiting and they are profiting more than ever.] back to the point. right now i truthfully cannot say how stable position jack has in the team. from what i remember of his f2 journey, it's not particularly hopeful. he made pretty stupid mistakes sometimes which is normal in f2 (i think it was monaco 2023 that was pretty shocking??), raced quite agressively wheel to wheel (according to my subjective view, sometimes even over the line of fair) and overall he wasn't one of the best talents - still a very solid driver tho. it just doesn't make me too confident for how his season will go in the light of great rookie races in f1 of the likes of ollie bearman, franco colapinto or liam lawson that pleasantly surprised most people. also he doesn't have the best machine under his butt with their known reliability issues and weak pu - although credit where it's due, they started copying others and particularly the front wing of ferrari which lessens the differences between quali and race in ride height better, seemed like a strong addition to their upgrades and it seems like they are on the upcurve there with this kind of development. idk how big chances are for franco or paul currently, but we will probably know by summer break, because as you can tell from the roundups, nobody in f1 can really keep a secret and everything seeps through as "rumours" at first 🙃

anywayyyy sorry for letting this run as long but i don't really wanna add braggings like this to the roundups, yet i'm sooooo glad you gave me the opportunity to do it this way 😋😋 so thank you again 😚

[jelle-guido]

...says Liam the one who killed Oasis with his violence... "it always has to be you"… the one who avoided so many meetings, film premieres, concerts, etc where he could easily meet Noel. Pathetic poor innocent media victim LiaR is sooooo fake and making a fool of you, and if you can't see it, you're a complete idiot, that's sure (or you've never known those who think to be attractive)

[nokingsonlyfooles]

WTYP: The Shandor Building, Part 1 [take 2, the long post vs Tumblr's formatting]

[Do you like the colour of the fanfic? This is long and if you expand it you're gonna get the whole thing, because Tumblr hates you. Don't say I didn't warn you!]

[Beware of strong language, mention of all kinds of death, gore, and Lovecraftian horror.]

Part 1: Hello and Welcome to Shandor Studios (it's weird)

[TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: The moon was waning and a raven was tapping on my window when I discovered a heretofore unknown tier at the WTYP Patreon page. It was called "Pazuzu" and cost $6.66 USD. It had one listed benefit "bonus bonus episode." I unlocked a single unnumbered bonus episode titled "Ibo Shanor" and subtitled "train bad actually." Judging from the dialogue, it dates to summer 2023. Since it lacked any closed-captioning, I took the liberty of transcribing it, and coping most of the slides for your edification. (Not really, this is a work of fiction.) I have styled Ms. Caldwell-Kelly as "Alice" since she still seems to be using that in podcast land at this time. Please support WTYP!]

[SLIDE: Shandor Studios, an art deco style building with some familiar-looking gargoyles perched on it, and poor JPEG compression, with an inset of the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man. Captioned: Will the Real Ivo Shandor Please Stand Up?]

JUSTIN ROCZNIAK (R): Hello, and welcome to Well There’s Your Problem, a podcast about engineering disasters with…

LIAM ANDERSON (L) [chanting]: Studio! Studio! Studio!

R: …with slides.

L: Studio! Suck it, Discord!

ALICE CALDWELL-KELLY (A): It’s quite nice, actually. There’s a little break room, and somebody left us one of those edible arrangements, and a paperback Necronomicon…

DEVON (D) [text over slide]: IT WAS ACTUALLY VERY NICE. I HAD MY OWN CONTROL ROOM. BUT IT WAS NOT WORTH IT.

L [distorted, too close to the mic]: My audio sounds amazing! This bonus episode is about Liam’s cool mic!

A [obligingly]: Yay, Liam’s cool mic.

R: It’s made of meat, though.

L: What, my cool mic?

R: No, the edible arrangement in the break room. They’re usually made of fruit, this one is made of meat. Raw meat.

A: Yes, I was wondering if that was an American thing. [laughter] I’ve never been to Massachusetts before!

L: It’s Innsmouth, Alice. Nobody’s ever been to Innsmouth. It doesn’t technically exist.

R: It’s not even on Google Maps.

A: Is it sort of a, er, township? Unincorporated township?

R: It’s more of a, uh, cult.

A: Like an MLM?

L: Like Christianity!

R: Well, a bunch of fish people founded it in the late eighteen hundreds…

L: Fucking fish.

R: …and let’s say they got up to some questionable activities.

A: Anything I should be worried about?

R: Well…

A: I did travel here by interdimensional portal and that’s just a bit… off-putting? It’s very convenient, but…

L: Swimming, having gills…

R: I took the train.

L: Just breathe air, you little shits!

A: Did they not offer you an interdimensional portal, then?

R: No, they did, I just said I’d rather take the train.

A: How was it?

R: Not bad. It was made of meat, though. The train. Smooth ride. Turns out meat is an excellent shock absorber, just not very practical. There was a flock of ravens trying to eat us the whole way.

A: That’s… a bit odd.

L: Brian Phelps.

R: Brian Phelps is made of meat?

L: No, Brian Phelps is a fucking fish. [shouting, too close to mic again] You’re not fooling anyone, Brian! God, I could go for some salami. Is there any salami in the meat bouquet?

R: There is definitely not any salami in the meat bouquet.

L: I’m gonna make myself a sandwich!

[scraping sound, footsteps, door opens and closes]

A: It’s nice having a studio, though.

R: It’s not bad. I like these chairs with the wheels. Good lumbar support. How was the portal?

A: Terrifying, but brief. Very brief. It materialised right under me in the dairy aisle of Tesco’s, then I was in this howling green tunnel for about five seconds, and then I was here. On the one hand, I didn’t have to show my passport or go through security, but on the other hand, I’m just slightly concerned I might have cancer. Or a prion disease. [nervous laugh] Or maybe I’ll turn into a fish person. Did you mean literal fish people?

R: Yes.

A: I suppose… Someone got very lonely and fucked a fish, or…?

R: Yes.

A: What? Are you being serious? What kind of a fish… Do you mean mermaids?

R: No. In fact, mermaids have a notorious design flaw when it comes to sexual congress with us human types. What you’re after, as a lonely sailor, is an animal known as the “reverse-mermaid,” which is widely regarded as a joke, and depicted as the head and torso of a fish, with human legs, and presumably genitalia, underneath… [drawing a reverse-mermaid on the slide, with the mouse, badly] But which is in fact more of an elder god by the name of Dagon, which does indeed have legs and genitalia, but is more of a fully-anthropomorphic monstrous fish. [drawing monstrous legs and feet] He’s a bit larger and taller. Here, I’ll put a “D” for Dagon. [draws arrow] And the rest of him is up there.

A: As a lonely sailor myself, I don’t see how something like that is any more fuckable than a regular fish. Or a manatee. Frankly, I’d rather fuck a manatee. At least it’s a mammal.

R: Yeah, but you’d be violating the Endangered Species Act.

A [laughing]: I’m sorry, aren’t they endangered? We want them to fuck! You told me to save the manatees, well I’m out there doing it! And then I’m going to save the whales!

R: Debatable whether creating a race of half-human, half-manatee hybrids is saving the species…

A: Are you some kind of fucking manatee eugenicist? If the manatee and I are both consenting adults, and we fancy each other, then leave us the fuck alone! This is how evolution works!

R: In the mind of Donald Trump, yes.

[door opening and closing]

D [text over slide]: I COULD EDIT THAT OUT BUT I’M TOO TRAUMATISED AND DRUNK.

L: You guys… Is that supposed to be a fucking fish?

R: No. It’s the legendary reverse-mermaid.

L: Well, I only respect half of it! Here. The meat bouquet started screaming when I cut into it, so I grabbed some doughnuts. 

A: Oh, are there doughnuts? The meat bouquet has a way of…

L: You didn’t hear it?

R: The meat bouquet?

A: …of arresting one’s attention…

L [excited]: The soundproofing in here is fucking incredible!

D [text over slide]: IN RETROSPECT, THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN A RED FLAG.

A: Out of sheer, morbid curiosity, did the doughnut scream?

L: Doughnuts don’t scream.

R: Do the doughnuts scream in… in the UK?

A: …No, not usually. Perhaps, perhaps on the continent, but not usually in Britain. They’re very stuffy and well-behaved.

L: And transphobic.

A: Of course.

L: Do you want one of these?

A: Er, I rather think… I’d better not eat or drink anything until another portal opens up and sends me home. Just in case this is a Persephone sort of situation…

R: Probably a good idea.

L: Low blood sugar kills, Alice. [muffled, chewing]

R: You’ll wind up married to Hades and having to spend six months out of the year in Massachusetts.

L: I’m spending twelve months out of the year in this studio, I don’t care if it’s in Massachusetts. If I have to, I will marry Hades twice.

R: Nah, you see, that’s not legal in Massachusetts. You’d be in a bigamous relationship with yourself.

L: Well, then one of you has to do it. Daddy needs his new mic. These chairs are awesome too!

[rumbling, squeaking]

A: I’m already in a very committed relationship with the Mothman, actually. We go around collapsing bridges and making appearances just out of camera frame. It’s quite fun.

R: Alice is actually a cryptid wanted across several New England states.

A: Yes, I’d like very much to get back to it, and not get cancer or die! [nervous laughter] Ah, shall we get on with the episode?

L: I’m never leaving this studio. You will pry this microphone from my cold, dead hand.

A: Intros? Did we do intros?

R: It’s a bonus episode, they already know us.

D [text over slide]: HONESTLY IF WE’D JUST DONE THE INTROS, IT WOULD’VE SAVED US A LOT OF TROUBLE.

A: Right…

R: But we do have [news drop] the God Damn News.

Part 2 will be another post, give me a minute and I'll link it...

[viatagrinner]

Ikevil. Part 2. Chapter 6 - 9

This is more notes than a full-fledged translation...

Kate is now "Crown's" personal "storyteller".

Victor just came up with this post.

From now on, Kate will live in this castle and act with the other members of the Crown. And the guys will keep an eye on her so she doesn't talk too much.

The girl will record their atrocities. This is a valuable resource for the study of the Curse + report to the Queen.

Harrison: It's just because you can't be bothered to do the report, so you're going to impose it on her....

And Victor... he doesn't even deny it. It's the "best" idea ever. He wants to show Kate the castle.

But the heroine makes a condition that within a month she will do her job, keep their secret for life, and they will let her go. "Please."

Victor... He seems to have just realized that his break from reporting will only last a month.

William notes that it is unusual to see Vic so surprised. It's hilarious William promises that she will be let go. Plus, he asks Victor to send notice to Kate's job, saying that she will be working at the royal palace.

Ahh... The guys are finally all introducing themselves. [I'll write again that most of the names Kate didn't know.]

The heroine who likes to go to the theater finally recognizes Liam. He's an actor.

After kissing her hand, Liam says he's looking forward to working together.

Harrison asks to be called either Harry or Harrison.

Harrison: I'm a cursed lying fox. ....False or true?

She can't read him. But she has a whole month ahead of her.

I take it that all guys have their own smell? Harrison smells like peppermint.

Alphons Sylvatica. [I hope I spelled his last name right.]

He's excited for the opportunity to "play" with the pretty Robin.

Elbert Greetia - Earl.

Elbert: ....Elbert. .....Greetia.

Elbert: ......Al, is she pretty?

Alphons: Yes, so are you.

Roger stands up for the girl's honor. He says the two are being rude to the lady.

Roger is a former doctor.

It's Jude and Ellis' turn to introduce themselves. Which Jude is not particularly happy about.

Victor asks him to be gentler, but the guy is adamant. What was Victor thinking when he used royalty to take over the common man.

But.... Kate is no fool and immediately realized that Jude is not cruel, but a tsundere...

(Ordinary person....)

(....Oh, are you defending me right now?)

Although he seems cold, he is a conscientious man.

Kate thanked him.

Jude: Poor thing, you were brought here by force. Do you want me to help you?

Jude: 'Сourse, it's a joke. Whaddaya mean expect me to do, hopeless?

Jude: Well, I wish y'all the best. Ya won't last a month before ya run away and get killed.

Even for the heroine, he speaks strangely. She thinks he's an immigrant.

Ellis says Jude acts that way with everyone.

Kate is more afraid of him than anyone else. It's too easy for him to offer to kill her.

Ellis works for Jude. Jude is the president of a trading company.

Victor notices that not everyone has revealed their "curses."

Victor wants to show a trick.

Liam is thrilled.

Harrison and Roger don't want to waste their time.

Alphons is happy to see a weirdo and a fool.

Victor needs an assistant. How about Elbert?

Elbert: ..... I don't want to....

Victor: Hmmm...I wonder why your sad profile is so appealing? What about Ellis?

Ellis agrees, as long as it makes Vic happy.

Ellis lies down on the table.

This whole situation is wild for Kate. They recently killed a man, and now they're laughing.

William notices the change in the girl's mood.

William: Are you afraid?

She calls him "Lord" again, ("-sama").

But he only wants to be "William." He wants a more informal relationship.

The heroine agrees, but she adds "lord" to herself. William doesn't want to force her into anything.

William: Are you afraid of us?

Kate admits it. She'd be better off not knowing everything.

William: Do you want to know more?

Now yes, because she needs to earn the trust of the Crown members and fulfill her duties.

In the meantime, Victor showed a trick. Ellis survived the rain of knives.

Not everyone was happy with the trick. Mostly everyone called out Ellis's good physical ability and reflexes.

But Victor was not upset that few people appreciated his talent. He offered to show the girl the castle.

Victor also asks to be called by his first name, without using "lord" (-sama). He is sad that William was able to get informal treatment and he was not.

Vic shows the heroine the common room, the infirmary and laboratory, and the ballroom. But balls are rare here.

Kate's room.

No one knows, but Kate has been practicing writing on a typewriter.

Victor senses that there is something fateful in Kate's arrival at the castle// She is destined to be here.

He also warns not to let anyone in this room.

[Grandpa says: ]

Victor: Leaving anyone in this room is like giving up your body.Be careful.

Victor thanks Kate for trying to talk to them.

Advice from Victor:

After a month, if you want to get back to your normal life.... Don't let it steal your heart.

Victor: Right. Cursed are destined to meet a tragic breakdown.😀

Victor: Do not fall in love with them if you wish for the kind of happiness that pure maidens dream of.

/It's absurd for her now.

 

But if the fate is like that...

Victor: Darkness will gladly accept you.

And so began her sinful life.

Bonus [I don't know why, but let it be here.]

The heroine does not use honorific suffixes for Harrison, Liam, William, Victor.

"-San": Alphonse, Roger, Jude.

"-Sama": Elbert.

"-Kun": Ellis.

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Maya was clear that she saw Liam's abuse as a result of distress that ran deep and his coping strategies with that distress. So if I talk about Liam it will be in those terms. ///

In her book she said some of the distress arouse from the contrast between his career and Harry's and the poor reception of LP1. I remember the same Guardian critic Laura Snape was very cruel about LP1 (awful 1* review) and very nice about Fine Line which was released a week later.

I just think the whole solo fandom thing is fucking toxic. The fans, the media, the industry ... all pitting them against each other and the same person coming out on top year after year.

Oh anon - I know fandom is notorious for blaming women for the actions of men - but responding 'Laura Snapes wrote a negative review of Liam's work' in response to a description of Liam's abuse - is taking fucked up fandom to another level.

But far more importantly - the way you present mental distress here You focus on the fact that Liam is being compared to other people and the fact that in this comparison external validation is not being distributed equally. Suggesting that if only external validation was distributed equally - if he got enough of it - Liam would not be experiencing this distress - is a model of mental distress that sets you up for failure.

(And of all the forms of external validation to suggest should be distributed equally - using reviews as your main example is completely absurd. People respond to art in all sorts of ways - which will always be complicated. When you put something out into the world you are taking a huge risk - including that people won't like it. But I'm mostly leaving that alone and are going to pretend to focus on a form of external validation where some form of equity of distribution would be reasonable)

External validation can be nice (although it can also be complicated), but it will not and cannot address the fractures in our psyches. There is all the evidence in the world (including within 1D) that external validation is not a solution to mental distress.

We need some kind of recognition - we need to do things people value and we need to be seen. We don't need, and can't all have, the extraordinary recognition that you describe as Harry coming up on top. Stadium tours, awards, even someone with authority engaging with and appreciating something we've created - those only go to some people - and they never have been distributed fairly and never will be.

Our mental distress lies to us - it sends us in completely the wrong way to try and fix it. Chasing after external validation as a way of trying to eliminate mental distress is a fools errand. Short term distress around rejection, or not getting something we want, or failure - is really normal. Learning to sit with that distress and get through it rather than running in all sorts of directions is a skill that it's possible to strengthen (one of the most important changes of my adult life has been experiencing applying to jobs as something that felt unbearable distressing, to something that was possible, with a significant toll).

Of course Liam experiences some distress at career difficulties - we all would. That's not what his ex-girlfriend wrote a book about. Liam responded to his distress by being cruel and abusive to people around him (particularly his ex) and seeking relief in substances that had a history of making him more abusive - in this condition he chased his girlfriend with an axe.

Our brains are lying to us. It's really common to feel distress and think 'I must do X then I will be valid and not feel distress'. That's a trap that will only keep people on a hamster wheel of distress - chasing relief that will not come. Even if you do achieve X it will not be enough - your brain will give you another goal. I think it can be useful to think of eating disorders here - the idea that being thin enough will cure someone's eating disorder will strike a lot (not enough) people as obviously illogical. The same is true for Liam and success (or Harry and success for that matter) and for so many people in different ways - if we chase things because we feel like we're not good enough - then getting those things are unlikely to make us feel good enough.

There is an alternative (although it is not to listen to that voice, and build our ability to tolerate our distress, manage triggers, and eventually heal some of the wounds that made our distress so strong in the first place.

[cagedchoices]

RELATIONSHIP META - DOLORES & CALEB (PART II)

[PART I HERE]

In The Mother of Exiles, we catch up with Dolores and Caleb, cementing their bond as revolution bros by doing what bros do best... Going shopping together! They need to look flashy enough that they don't seem out of place while infiltrating the 1%, but also not draw too much attention at the same time. Caleb doesn't wear many suìts in his line of work, so he feels a little hopelessly lost when trying to pick a convincing outfit. Luckily, Dolores is good at this sort of thing, so she helps him out.

DOLORES: Did you choose something? CALEB: (Groans) I don't know where to start. It's not really my style. It's not really my social set, either. DOLORES: It's tribal. They use plumage to identify themselves...which makes them easily fooled. CALEB: So who is it? That we're going after? DOLORES: The person who took your future. But first, we have to take his...and to do that, you have to pretend to be one of them.

I always saw Dolores's use of "They" in this context as being about "The Rich." As in she doesn't associate Caleb with the rest of them because he possesses more humanity than most of them, but also because he's a working class guy who would, under normal circumstances, never have any business interacting with anyone in this particular tax bracket.

Dolores and Caleb leave the store and Caleb expresses some concern that the guy whose money they stole to buy the suit will find out about it, with Dolores assuring him that they won't get caught. Even if they were to get caught, the guy they stole from won't even realize his money is missing until it's too late to do anything about it.

Uh...You know I think this is just- this is two friends running totally normal rich people errands here. What's a little light murder among friends? Doesn't really look like anything to me.

Okay jokes aside, though... Dolores kills this man, a financial manager by the name of Michael Tritter, who manages Liam Dempsey as a client. She takes a syringe and fills it with his blood, which contains an encryption key in the form of a unique blood marker, and then injects it into Caleb.

They travel to The RGGR Centennial, a bank designed specifically for the financial elite in the world. The job here is to transfer all of Liam's money out of his account and covertly into Dolores's possession. To do that, Caleb impersonates Tritter using the blood marker, and Dolores uses Liam's personal hash key, which she acquired earlier with the help of Connells-Dolores.

CALEB: I thought we were going to a bank? DOLORES: This is a bank. For a certain social set. Blood marker should be good for another fifteen minutes or so, but try to stay calm. The faster your heart beats, the faster the marker degrades. CALEB: What happens if it degrades too fast? DOLORES: We do this the old-fashioned way. CALEB: The old-fashioned way? DOLORES: I kill everyone.

Fortunately, things at the bank go fairly smoothly and nobody has to die, although for a minute it feels like a very real possibility.

Caleb is nervous and it makes his hands sweaty to the point that the blood scanner can't get a clear reading on his ID. Seeing Dolores start to reach for the gun she has concealed in her handbag probably doesn't help with his nerves much either, but she hands him a cloth and after he wipes down his hands, the scanner is able to get a clear ID on the blood marker and the money transfer is successfully taken care of.

The next part of the plan is to intercept Liam at a masquerade event, where sex workers and models auction off their various services to wealthy patrons. The proceeds from the auction sales are donated to charitable organizations.

One of Liam's friends passes him a vial of an experimental drug known as Genre, a virtual movie marathon that is meant to be marketed as "The Poor Man's W/estworld" and allows its user to experience reality as seen through the lens of popular movie genres. Liam pockets the drug for later, and attempts to enter the auction so he can bid on a girl, but he discovers he has no money, not knowing Dolores has it all.

Dolores and Caleb move in to catch Liam, but her old friends Bernard and Stubbs reach him first, thinking Dolores has already killed and replaced Liam with a host copy, or is planning to, to gain control of Rehoboam. They escape from the auction hall. Dolores passes Caleb her gun and sends him ahead in pursuit of Liam, while she stays behind to fight and subdue Stubbs.

DOLORES: Stay on Liam. I'll handle this one. CALEB: You sure? DOLORES: Take it. I won't need it.

As has been pointed out by the lovely @copiesofme [in this post], Dolores's fight with Stubbs is never intended to kill him, nor is it fought on bad terms between either of them. It's only fought out of necessity and Dolores does everything she can to fight fair and not hurt Stubbs too badly.

I will also point out, Dolores giving Caleb the gun in this situation speaks to just how much trust she has in him! As Connells-Dolores will tell Bernard just a little bit later in either this episode or in the next, he's the only host they can't replace. Meaning that if Caleb had felt threatened or at all like he had to shoot Bernard, then Dolores's grand plan would've probably been fucked. But Dolores knows this, and she can trust that Caleb won't bring Bernard to harm.

Their friendship remains pretty unchanged from the end of Mother of Exiles to Genre. Partly because there's not really anywhere else to go for now, Caleb has already committed himself to helping Dolores. He has seen her kill and as concerned as he was about "what the fuck are you doing??" it didn't discourage him from wanting to keep helping her.

Toward the beginning of Genre, Caleb gets drugged by Liam with the dose of Genre he was given previously, which also sort of stunts how much growth Caleb can achieve at this point. If he's not making woozy faces or shooting worried glances at Dolores, he's busy trying to help her keep Liam alive.

Caleb does have A moment (or two) where everything becomes rose-tinted, time slows down, a romantic piano melody plays in the background, and he finds himself staring, eyes wide and glassy, mouth agape - at Dolores while she fires a gun at Serac's men. It's all very silly and lovey-dovey at a first glance.

I think this does reflect, as do ALL of the Genre phases he experiences, what Caleb is feeling in his subconscious (he goes from the pensive mystery of film noir, to a cheesy action hero in the thrill of battle, to romance, to drama, with a brief interlude of reality before finally arriving at the finale of horror). But I'll also say that from start to finish of the romance sequence, he never speaks a word. He just looks. To me, that's the most honest telling of his internal feelings being externalized. He doesn't act on or expect any romantic feelings to be reciprocated just because he might happen to feel them.

I don't ship Caleb and Dolores in the romantic context. I think all the potential was there for it. I don't know, maybe there will come a day where I change my mind on this, but after what happened with both William and Teddy respectively, I don't think Dolores would be okay with putting Caleb through anything similar to those experiences, and even more importantly I don't think Dolores would be okay with putting herself in that kind of situation again.

So I've kinda avoided talking about this for over 3 years because I genuinely didn't really know how to put it into simple words until now (also at some point early on someone had like. anon messaged me saying my caleb with my main dolores was their otp and i was like 'uhh you mean the relationship that isn't romantic in any way whatsoever on our part?' but. that was a long time ago i'm trying to get over it okay. It did put me off from wanting to talk about things for fucking ever tho).

Anyway, romance rant over I didn't mean to write an entire essay there oops. Caleb manages to snap himself out of the daydream and get back to fighting even though he's definitely not at the top of his game. By the end of the scene he starts to look over at Dolores again with the love theme reprising itself, only to be interrupted again, this time by Giggles popping up to tell everyone he knows exactly what drug Caleb is on. Ash sarcastically refers to him as Loverboy, and then everyone quickly moves on.

The group makes their way down to the LA Metro station and Dolores makes the final preparations before sending the entire world their Incite profiles, which will radicalize them against Rehoboam. Caleb has all kinds of conflicted feelings about seeing the real world as Dolores sends everyone their profiles detailing their various fates. It's chaos and anarchy which he's not the biggest fan of because innocent people can and will get hurt, but it's also people acting out and rebelling in the realest ways they can against an unjust system, and that part of it is very appealing in a world that had no free will before.

Dolores moves in front of Caleb, shielding him from taking these bullets and killing the enemies who seemed like they were after Caleb specifically? But they're not dressed like Serac's people so maybe they were just random criminals. Maybe the bounty that got put on him in episode 3 is still up? He did see some suspicious-looking guys when they first entered the Metro station and seemed pretty convinced they were bad news considering how quickly he alerted Dolores to them, so maybe these two enemies were working with those guys.

Whatever the real reason is, Caleb experiences the shocking revelation that Dolores is not a human, because she just tanked 5 bullets without a thought and didn't die. Dolores just. zips up her jacket to hide the wounds because we are not talking about that right now we have other matters to take care of. Caleb, still in disbelief, follows right ahead.

CALEB: Back there... The shooters... DOLORES: We can talk about it later. We need to get to the airfield. (Gesturing to Liam) We don't need him anymore. What do you want to do with him?

At the beach, beneath the same pier where Dolores first brought Caleb to show him the truth about his world, things take a turn. Liam begs the group to let him go and whines that they've taken everything he had. He claims that the system isn't the prison and that people don't have a choice in who they are by nature. Caleb tries to confront Liam directly, but experiences a PTSD flashback. Ash shoots Liam, angered by his remarks, and Caleb tries to stop Liam from bleeding out, reminded of how he watched Franci die.

There's nothing he can do for Liam here, so Liam dies.

After Dolores and Caleb arrive at the airfield, Caleb has some doubts as to whether or not they are doing the right thing. His hands are still stained with Liam's blood, representing a sense of guilt for what happened, as well as foreshadowing what he'll learn the next time we see him, in Passed Pawn.

CALEB: Maybe Liam was right. Maybe people shouldn't know their own fate. DOLORES: People have the right to know. You wanted to know, right? CALEB: Well, maybe I'm not like other people. DOLORES: Neither am I.

Dolores boards the jet and Caleb has a moment of hesitation, as if he's maybe thinking about leaving instead, before ultimately choosing to board the jet and continue on with following and helping Dolores.

[timetraveladdict]

Episode 3

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Pfff Jaskier, you don't believe it yourself that your relationship with Geralt is only platonic. Stop fooling yourself.

Nice abs btw. Joey Batey you are amazing!

Poor fake Ciri…

Visenna is death? Geralt is crying? His childhood story made me cry 😭

Also, Giancardi and Fabio Sachs. Another scene straight from the books!

Good boy Jaskier, telling Geralt that Redania wants Ciri. And he knows something about Radovid is fishy…

If I was Ciri I would have fled as well. Gods those mages are snobbish and arrogant.

So… Istredd is working for Nilfgaard? Why a, I not surprised?

Remember r last post when I was saying I ship Cahir and Gallatin? Well it sunk before it even started… rip.

Redania is madness but I like it…

Woah the Wild Hunt!!!

I repeat: Henry Cavill deserves an oscar. Liam ah s worth will never master Geralt as he did.

Tomorrow last two episode of volume 1!

[burningflamescurse]

“Beginnings”

Pre—Accident!Stephen Strange x Fem! Surgeon!OFC, Grey’s anatomy Crossover.

A/N: First of all I have a lot of Original Characters that I am adding to this Series, Which I will Explain the roles right now before moving along into the actual writing part!

Chief of General Surgery: Doctor Jack Wilson

General Surgery Attending: Doctor Liam Jones

General Surgery Resident: Doctor Lucas Miller

Chief of Thoracic Surgery: Doctor Charlotte Garcia.

Thoracic Surgery Attending: Henry Davis

Thoracic Surgery Resident: Camila Taylor

OBGYN/Neonatal Surgeon: Emily Perez

Fetal Surgeon: Evelyn Lopez

Pediatrician: Asher Lewis.

Neurosurgery Resident: Noah Sanchez.

Orthopedic Surgeon: Aria Adams

Hand Surgeon: Layla Rivera

Spine Surgeon: Ethan Carter

Trauma Surgeon: Hazel Evans

Pediatric Surgeon: Aurora Baker

Interns: Amy Nelson, David Torres, James Scott, Shelby Edwards, Willow Brooks.

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

Chapter Two: Beginnings Of Tragic Incidents.

Chapter Summary: after Blake talked with Cristina about what’s been going on in Seattle with Meredith and Everyone else, her Interns do something unforgivable, something she can’t even Fathom forcing her to do something, maybe even tell her boyfriend.

CW//TW: Medial Terminology, Drama, Shouting, Surgery, Trauma, Cursing, Stephen getting mad at the interns, a Bunch of different OC’s, Blake and Christine are best friend, mentions of Derek shepherd’s Death, Trauma, Flashbacks, Cristina and Blake are like soulmates, injuries, mentions of Cutting an LVAD wire.

“So he totally is Like Meredith’s McDreamy, Huh?” Cristina said over the Phone call, Blake Hissed at her to shut up as she was in the Female Attendings Locker room, Pulling on her Dark Blue Scrubs. “Cristina!” She Whisper Shouted.

Cristina Snorted before ending the call, She Met Stephen Outside heading towards the Nurses Station to get and find there own Cases, like Any hospital Worked. “By the way where are your Stupid Interns?” He asked. Blake stopped, blinking her eyes noticing that none of her little Suck ups were around her, Malia Noticed the Doctor becoming Suspicious and Knew she had to tell on the Poor Interns.

"Doctor Shepherd, one of your Patients on the transplant list came back in after his heart was failing again despite the LVAD, They've been in his room for an hour now, I think his name was Daniel Cooper." Malia said, Blake had a bad feeling about all this, She nodded at Stephen and Malia to come with her. The Trio Scrambled to Cooper's Room, standing in shock when they saw what was happening. "What the hell.." Blake mumbled, her eyes widened in shock, seeing Amy Pumping his heart Manually as the LVAD Wire was cut with a Pair of Scissors next to it. "Amy, What the hell did you do?!" She Practically yelled, "and why are all you fools helping her?!"

Amy didn't respond continuing to Pump his heart, Blake looked at Stephen who shook his head, she nodded to Malia, "Malia take over Pumping his Heart, and Amy step away from the Patient." Malia Nodded and Tried to gently take the device away but Amy screamed no and said not to touch her, Blake Ignored Amy for now telling Malia to stay with her and to help Amy if she allowed her to, Blake turned to the three other Idiot doctors, "You three, In the hall. Now." She ordered.

Blake was angry, seething even. "What the hell were you three thinking, you could have killed that Patient." She said, Stephen was right next to her agreeing with her words, "Even worse, you could have endangered your careers and be sued for assaulting a Patient." Stephen added. David Tried to speak but Blake shushed him, "No, Not a word, you are not to speak, Not a single word, I don't wanna have to Testify against any of you fools." She said.

The Group was silent for a moment, “I assume you ran labs..” She said, Her eyes showing a Furious anger and Disappointment. They stayed Silent only fueling her Annoyance and anger, "Well?..." She demanded. James spoke, "you told us not to speak-"

"I know I did, Now did you run labs?!.." Blake said, tapping her foot impatiently, David Nodded, Blake sighed as she gave out orders, "Okay, Shelby Jack's been asking for you." She said giving her the order to go, before turning to the rest of the amazingly idiotic Interns, "David go get those labs and come right back, do not talk to anyone, go straight there and back."

Then She turned to James, "Now you, follow me and Stephen Right now."

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

A Few Hours later and both Blake and Stephen were making sure Mr. Cooper was okay, She listened to his heart with her Stethoscope sighing at how weak it sounded. "Why Amy... Why would you do this?.." She said, Continuing to to Listen to his heart while Stephen did a quick Neuro Exam to ensure he was okay in the head, no concussion or any Brain Bleed whatsoever. "Because he needs that heart and I love him.. I love him so damn Much Doctor Shepherd.." The Intern Whispered, Blake shook her head sighing In Disappointment.

"Oh for God's sake, you fell in love with a Patient.." Blake sighed, exasperated, Stephen was really trying to hold back all his anger at the Interns. "Well his Brain is Okay, No signs of anything wrong with his brain." Stephen Said. David Came in with the Labs, "Labs are back, His State is becoming worse." Blake sighed Knowing exactly what that Meant. Amy Spoke now, "He'll get the heart right, He's gonna get the heart? He has to. You'll Sign the papers that he'll be put at the top of the list-" She was quickly Interrupted by Blake's cold tone.

"Those are the Kind of things I would tell a doctor, and right now you are not a doctor, you are a Visitor." She said, her eyes showing how furious she actually was. "What?.." Amy asked in complete and utter disbelief. "You will no longer be a doctor in this Hospital until I say Otherwise. Now Step away from Mr. Cooper and let Malia Take over." She Ordered.

Malia came over slowly taking it away from Amy as Blake Glared at her slightly, making the rest of the Interns Shrink underneath her Gaze.

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

Blake told Stephen to carry on with the rest of his Surgeries while she went to talk to the Chief of the hospital about this certain Incident without exposing her Interns for doing this.

She asked the Chief about a Hypothetical Question with the exact same Situation, In which she explained that Mr. Cooper move to the top of the list and receive the heart Immediately but ordered that whoever did that was to be in her Office for Intense Consequences for endangering a Patients Life.

Blake nodded, "Of course, Ma'am."

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

Which ended with the Interns getting yelled at by the chief and forced to not even go near a Surgical case unless they fessed up on who did it and to share one single Patient to give her what she needed.

Later on Blake was sitting at the Nurses Station, Checking on different Patient files and Images, as Stephen was Charting, "So, How bad was their Punishments?" Stephen asked with a Snide Smirk on his face. Blake sighed, Shaking her head. "The Chief said no more surgeries until they confess that Amy did it and they had to share one singular Patient." She snorted, Searching up another Patient file.

Malia was now delivering Labs due to Blake's Interns being Punished for their Stupid decisions, "Here you go Blake, Imaging is back for Ms. Collins." She said handing her the Tablet. Blake looked it over smiling to herself, "Oh.. I could use a little Great Neuro Case." She muttered. Stephen Looked up Suddenly Interested, Raising his eyebrow, "Oh no Mister, You have your own Solo Neuro Surgery in 30 Minutes, you need to get ready for that, I've got this one." She said, smirking to herself before teasing him. "Besides this woman has a nail in her head." She said, before rushing off.

Stephen Chuckled to himself, "Well Played, Doctor Shepherd."

[insomniziam]

Better music video being one of the loudest things zayn’s EVER done and people not even batting an eye?? What’s your favorite underrated ziam song? Love you btw 🥺

Hey nonnie! Thanks for the love, it's incredibly sweet.

Exposing myself with just how behind I am with answering asks lmao

I think Fool For You is incredibly underrated! And Blue just really hurts my heart to listen to, poor zehn.

You've got the incredibly sappy ones like There You Are and Natural (it's so good to see how his emotions have progressed through his writing). And then there's also Tightrope! I did an analysis on it a while back if you're interested!

Zayn just has a way with words that's hard to come by!

Hopefully Liam will be able to put out his own music that details his side of the relationship, because at the moment it seems that weight falls heavily on Zayn's shoulders 😅

Thanks for the ask nonnie, sorry it took me so long

[wellthatwasaletdown]

This is gonna be very long i'm sorry

I'm gonna give an unpopular opinion harry edward styles is NOT dumb not only he's actually clever but calling him dumb is stripping him away of half of his faults. That man is not stupid at all, he was clever enough at 16 on the x factor to understand that if he wanted to be noticed he needed more than his talent, that's why he started flirting with all the female contestants around his age, and no don't say it was the x factor producers who told him to do that cause there were thousands cute young boys they had no reason to pick him, it was his idea, he was clever enough once in the band to meet producers, ceos of big labels/pr marketing and lick their asses and while it's easy to figure it out who the powerful are and where the money is at it's not easy to fall into their graces it requires and understanding of who people truly are and what they want and no morals or integrity to give it to them, harries love to say how hard working he was in the band and how much he did for them so that's why he was able to sign with the best label cause they clearly saw all his effort but it's a lie he never worked in favor of the band, he went to work reunions (even when he didn't have to, cause their pr team was taking care of it, even without the others) cause he was preparing his solo career, he was clever enough to understand since day 1 that boy bands don't last forever and don't last long so they needed to be his trampoline he used them and once he got the connection he wanted he dropped them and once out he started putting himself above them, sabotaging their images and their careers making them look like fools, look at how him and his team make sure to push the narrative of niall the second best AFTER styles, the second with more commercial succes, money, ecc but always second, look how they made sure louis didn't got the rolling stones cover he wanted for his promo even if styles had nothing to promote around that time, look how he and his team made the press talk shit about liam after he said he didn't understand the way he dressed, look how they made a fool out of zayn with the ringo joke,the unprofessional one and let's not forget having a legend like stevie nicks say that his music wasn't comparable to styles. He destroyed their images cause he knew it would take consequences on their careers and he knew he needed to get rid off competions in a sneaky way cause his talent on it's own wasn't enough. He was clever enough to never deny larries rumors (unlike louis) cause he knew they brought attention to him, they made him stand out from the others and while louis looked bad cause he kept denying and getting mad at fans while being in a serious relationship with a girl, styles looked like the poor angel victim of the mean team and of louis who wasn't brave enough to stand up for their love. So no he was never dumb he was always a machiavellian manipulator and it requires brain to do that, also he was clever enough to create this image of sweet kind guy even when he was still in the band so everything shitty he says or does is blamed on his team, tickets prices? His teams fault, not refoundimg the shows while a pandemic was going on and those money could've helped this people families? His teams fault, his inability to act? He just wanted to try something new and have fun so it's his teams faul if it went bad, being a homewrecker? Olivia's fault the list goesn on and on. That man is not dumb he's cruel and ready to sell his own mother for money and fame he knows what he's doing constantly he's not the puppet many think he is, he might not be the most cultured person in the industry but culture doens't make you clever it just make you cultured, everything is 100% his fault all the time, not his team, not the azoff, HIS.

You are giving him way more credit than he actually deserves. Yes, it's his fault in the sense that he has free will, but you're acting like he wasn't being advised along the way, especially early in his career.

Is he extremely ambitious? Yes, he absolutely is, and the people in the right positions of power saw that and used it to both their advantages. He shared in the blame, but he's not this brilliant mastermind. He was an ambitious kid willing to do whatever it took to be famous. And now he is an ambitious man willing to do whatever it takes to be famous.

And, as I have said countless times, both parties are to blame in an affair, so it wasn't just Olivia's fault. They are equally at fault. She's not innocent in this.

[moriartyluver]

🦢 anon is back with the song analysis again

ok but teen fl + teen idle by marina is soo real

“I wanna be a bottle blonde I don't know why but I feel conned”- her feeling like liam is more privileged than her and feeling slightly jealous of him because she saw him as a white b who got everything handed to him

“I wanna be an idle teen I wish I hadn't been so clean”- revenge revenge revenge

“I wanna stay inside all day I want the world to go away”- her being an introvert as a teen and only ever studying and maybe occasionally socialising

“I want blood, guts, and chocolate cake I wanna be a real fake”- her putting on a facade

“Yeah, I wish I'd been, I wish I'd been, a teen, teen idle Wish I'd been a prom queen, fighting for the title Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible Feeling super, super, super suicidal”- the third line here is kinda like her being 16 and committing crimes ig?? Also fl low-key wants to unalive herself but knowing her she probably won’t try because of all her responsibilities

“The wasted years, the wasted youth The pretty lies, the ugly truth”- I know we didn’t get an exact thing abt fls relationship with Theo the pedo but I’d say it’s implied they probably did the deed. Like how when they were dancing in the Ashfordshire arc, liam said something abt fl having multiple partners in other aspects, also in the past chapter u mentioned that fl would visit Theo at night. I think she’d lie to herself and act as if she was just seducing him but really she was probably getting abused by him

“And the day has come where I have died Only to find, I've come alive”- fl having her grand duchess glow up post timeskip 👏 👏

“I wanna be a virgin pure A twenty-first century whore I want back my virginity So I can feel infinity”- fls issues with intimacy with Liam because of Theo. She probably never enjoyed the devils tango until liam came around because she was so used to using it for her ulterior motives 😕😕 also she always is getting fetishised and flirted with by the other noblemen to the point she felt she had to marry a guy she considered her biggest rival just to shake them off only for them to keep going and not understand how uncomfy she was

“I wanna drink until I ache I wanna make a big mistake I want blood, guts, and angel cake I'm gonna puke it anyway”- in the Noahtic arc, fl got drunk a bit and was probably using it as escapism for her issue of an heir. Also fls implied Ed ^^

“I wish I wasn't such a narcissist I wish I didn't really kiss The mirror when I'm on my own Oh God, I'm gonna die alone” - fl has slight self esteem issues imo so this lyric makes sense especially because she seemed to be a little meaner as a teen and rightfully so bc her brother literally died because of the British ofc she won’t like any of them. In like the second chapter fl made a comment abt dying alone and I thought that fits

“Adolescence didn't make sense A little loss of innocence The ugliness of being a fool Ain't youth meant to be beautiful?”- fl was suffering since she was like 9 and I don’t think anyone reached out to her tbh if she was really killing whole families at 16. She was probably hella merciless and numb poor girl. She also probably lost her innocence because of Theo and other weird noble guys

also she fits seventeen by marina too. If she was an mtp character she’d probably get angst edits to that one bit “I was brought up as a baby well you don’t know fuck about my family could never tell you what happened the day I turned seventeen the rise of the king and the fall of a queen”

fl is just sooo Marina coded idc

ALSO I AM BEGGING YOU TO GET SOME REST GIRLIE. u usually update like every day. We don’t need u losing sleep over false lovers I promise. Get ur beauty sleep 🙏

Stop this is literally a whole essay 😭 u are right abt most of it tho

Theo is literally such an asshole I’m glad fl killed him and tortured him

Bro was 20 and courting a 16 year old but wasn’t even following proper etiquette rules

Fl finds it so difficult to be affectionate with Liam all because of that stupid mf.

Grand duchess fl 🛐

Fls parents tried to reach out to help her with her grief when she was a kid but they were both suffering themselves and they were trying to find out who was responsible for fls brothers death while also suffering responsibilities as the grand duke and duchess. They tried but fl shut everyone out because she only wanted revenge

Fl also has really terrible self esteem issues but she doesn’t let it show at all. From her perspective William was just an asshole and she felt like it was unfair everyone treated him better than her. Paris and rory esque relationship tbh

Tbh fl would get edited with like every Marina song she’s just that Marina coded

Also I’m currently on holiday so I’m trying my best to get some rest after my exams. I’ll try to be constant with updates but tbh I don’t think I’ll update until I’m back home because my internet keeps getting fucked up lol