#You should watch Fire In Babylon too

[redeyedroid]

The young Jamaican has an easy grace about him, even at a full sprint. He glides across the parched Oval turf silently, almost as if he isn’t touching the ground at all. The softness of his stride and the speed and hostility with which he bowls give him one of the great sporting nicknames. Michael Holding, 22 in the summer of 1976, becomes known as Whispering Death. The 14 wickets for 149 runs he takes in this, the fifth and final match of the series – still a record for a West Indian bowler in test cricket – cap a summer where the whole West Indies took it very personally.

There is a history of South Africans leaving home and playing international cricket for other nations. Traditionally, the destination of choice has been England, though today there are exceptionally talented South Africans playing for Australia and New Zealand. There are lots of reasons why they do this – Kevin Pietersen ended up playing for England because of conflict with administrators in South Africa, for instance – but in the 1970s, it is because apartheid South Africa is banned from playing internationally. Tony Greig, England captain in 1976, is one such player and commits a profound mistake when, the day before the series starts, in his Afrikaner accent, he announces his intention to make the West Indies, a team of black men, descendents of slaves, grovel.

The outcry is instantaneous. The retribution prolonged. The series is 5 matches long, across 11 weeks of the English summer. An angry and extremely motivated West Indies win 3-1 and it goes down in history as the beginning an era of unmatched dominance in international sport. Viv Richards scores 829 runs at an average of 118, Gordon Greenidge 592 at 66. Holding and Andy Roberts take 28 wickets each - 56 of the 100 available English victims. The team takes every opportunity to revenge themselves on the English.

In the end, it is Greig who on the field of play, performatively drops to his hands and knees in front of his opponents.

In 1981, Mikey Holding begins a test in Bridgetown, Barbados with a stunning, never bettered over to England opening batter Geoff Boycott – a famously terrible person. The 6th and final ball sends Boycott’s stumps flying. It’s doubtful whether he sees the first five deliveries at all. Boycott will claim that this over, and by extension himself, makes Holding – by now the best fast bowler in the world – famous.

6 weeks later, Holding is playing club cricket against amateurs in Lancashire. The league features quality international players turning out amongst bank managers and estate agents. Roberts plays for another team. Kapil Dev, one of Indian cricket’s gods, is there, too.

Mikey doesn’t do well. Injuries, weather and a desire not to hurt players far less talented than him keep him from fully dominating, but he shows flashes of his capabilities. In an act of staggering racism and stupidity, a player from an opposing team turns up for a match wearing a monkey mask "as a joke." Mikey takes 9 for 13 that day, clean bowling 7.

He retires in 1987 having played 60 tests and taken 259 wickets, low in today’s numbers. The West Indies are the best in the world and will remain so well into the 90s. In 1984 they beat England 5-0 in England – celebrated than and now as the Blackwash – and repeat the feat in 1986 when England tour the West Indies. By now the Barbadian, Malcolm Marshall has inherited Mikey’s crown as the greatest fast bowler of all. They win 4-0 in England two years later, Marshall taking 35 wickets in the 5-match series.

Their rule is not preordained. There is outcry over their bowlers. It is said to be unfair to bowl that fast, to target players the way the West Indians do. It is dangerous. They will kill people. Left unsaid is that nothing they do is against the rules. Nothing is said about similar bowlers from other countries like the lauded Australian duo of Thompson and Lillee. Rules are changed. More and better safety equipment is introduced. Helmets become universal. Viv Richards is one of the last to still wear a soft cap when facing fast bowling. The West Indies adapt and continue to win.

Through the 80s there are a number of tours of South Africa made up of players willing to take money to break the ban on playing there. Most rebels receive multi-year bans. The careers of many are effectively ended. Many others are welcomed back with open arms. Graham Gooch, for instance, will go on to captain England after leading on team on a tour in 1981-82.

Two of the tours are made up of West Indians. Those who travel are either talented players not quite good enough to break into the team, or older players coming to the end of their careers. The South Africans try to get the best West Indians to come, too. Richards, at this point the biggest star in the sport, is told that if he comes he will be considered an honourary white man, exempt from the rules of apartheid. He turns down the blank cheque he is offered. Those who go are banned from playing for the West Indies and many are ostracised socially and professionally over their willingness to take money from the apartheid regime.

Today, South Africa's test captain is Temba Bavuma.

Michael Holding becomes a commentator. His fast bowling mindset provides an alternative to the procession of former batters who sit beside him. Over the years, Mikey's baritone Jamaican twang becomes beloved in the same way Richie Benaud’s soft Australian burr was before him.

Cricket commentary is often relaxed and eccentric - a test match has 8 hours of play a day over 4 or 5 days - and the commentary team will chat about many things during the day. There is much time to fill, and sometimes they do it with meandering conversations about pigeons, or buses, or cakes. And sometimes with more important and vital subjects. During a rain break during a match between England and the West Indies three years ago today Mikey delivers his most profound and important address when he and Ebony Rainford Brent talk about the racism they have experienced in their lives. While the UK is in covid lockdown, the US is gripped by Black Lives Matter protests and Mikey’s monologue and the TV interviews that follow go viral. He writes a book afterwards, Why We Kneel, How We Rise, discussing the effects of racism through the prism of sport, his own experiences, and those of other stars, including Michael Johnson, Naomi Osaka, and his countryman, Usain Bolt. It wins many prizes.

He retired in 2021. The excellent Indian commentator, Harsha Bhogle described him as “cricket in rhythm,” but this is a disservice. Mikey Holding, Whispering Death, ended up using the eloquence and rhythm he played with for far more than just cricket.

[sixhours]

Chapter 17 - The Ghosts of Babylon

Series Chapter Index | Read on AO3 | Complete

Rating: Explicit, 18+, here be smut and violence Series tags: Joel Miller x You, Joel Miller x Reader, Joel & Ellie, mostly follows canon, LGBTQ+ characters, y/n is bi/pan, y/n is ~45, violence, pregnancy, abortion, medical trauma, emotional trauma, panic attacks, sex work, suicide, smut, slow burn, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort, romance, no use of y/n, reader has longish hair, Joel can lift you, smallish age gap (~11 years), I've probably forgotten some so please let me know <3

~*~

When you wake, Joel is already gone, back to another patrol shift. He leaves a note on the counter in his typically terse fashion:

Coffee’s fresh. Help yourself.

You don’t talk about that night again, but the effects linger. Patrol groups are larger and rotated more frequently since the bite that killed Eliot. The infected seem to be everywhere, and the council doubles the number of guards on the wall.

More than once during that summer, you wake in Joel’s bed, alone. Sometimes you find him standing at Ellie’s door, watching over her while she sleeps, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth until it’s raw. It’s the only time they’re truly at ease, when the silence between them isn’t uncomfortable. You’ll take his hand and lead him back to bed and he’ll bury his face in the back of your neck, unspoken sorrow radiating from him in waves.

But life in Jackson continues despite the undercurrent of unease. The weather turns brutally hot, and you treat heatstroke, sunburns, and so many cases of swimmer’s ear in the kids, who spend their free time frolicking in the creek that runs through the back half of the settlement.

Joel sets up a ring of stones in the backyard, and you build a fire and show Ellie how to roast homemade marshmallows in the embers. She’s impatient, and most of the time the sticky candy is set alight until it’s charred black and papery. She eats it anyway. Joel strums his guitar and hums under his breath, frowning when he misses a chord, brow furrowed in concentration as Ellie needles him about his taste in music.

There are times when it’s too sweet and simple, this life, and perhaps that’s why you don’t trust it. There is always the sense that you’re waiting for something to happen, for the terrible thing that will take it all away.

~*~

In mid-July, the council hosts an outdoor party they call the Firefly Dance, which you think is a terrible name under the circumstances, but no one else seems to think so. As much as you hate the idea of a night of watching sweaty people get increasingly drunk–all you see are future injuries to treat, more babies to deliver–you know you should make an appearance to seem neighborly. Joel seems to think so, too, because he tells you you shouldn’t miss it. It’s unlike him, to be excited about a silly dance with a silly name, so you decide to make the effort.

You’re dressed in a cornflower blue shift dress that, in the Before, would have been dubbed old-fashioned. But it’s the only slightly dressy thing you own that doesn’t have sleeves, and you’re not exactly surrounded by a dearth of choices. It falls just to your knees, and you can’t remember a time since the outbreak when you clothed yourself for fun rather than utility. It feels almost scandalous to walk around in public with bare legs and shoulders.

The way Joel’s eyes light up when he sees you confirms you’ve made a good choice, old-fashioned or not. He meets you at the edge of the party, gives you an appraising glance, and leans in to place a single chaste kiss on your cheek, murmuring in your ear.

“Clean up nice.”

He does, too, you think. His curls are temporarily tamed and slicked back, the usual flannel replaced by a short-sleeved plaid button-up with jeans. He looks almost presentable.

Before you can tell him this, he’s taking your arm and steering you…away.

“The party’s back there, Miller,” you say, looking over your shoulder at the strings of lights and the people mulling about.

“Got a better idea.”

You walk through an alley, down a narrow street, then into the open field near the northwest corner of the wall, until the lights and music are a distant pulse in the background.

His bedroll is already laid out, flattening a small patch of the tall sweetgrass. He pulls you down against him, cups your face in his wide palms, and kisses you long and deep.

“Joel Miller,” you murmur against his willing, open mouth. “I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He hums against your lips, hands already sliding under your dress. Maybe there’s something to bare legs after all. “Stars didn’t do it for ya?”

“Mmm,” you breathe. “Too cold.”

He rolls you onto your back, the grass warm and soft underneath you, almost soft as a bed. His nose grazes the spot behind your ear that makes you shiver, one hand already slipping into your panties, curling around your sensitive center. Your hands reach down, eager to touch him, to return the favor, but he gently pushes you away.

“Uh uh,” his voice tickles at your collarbone, stubble scraping your throat. “Just for you tonight.”

An undignified sound escapes you in half moan, half-whisper. “Fuck.”

“That’s the idea,” he growls, and his fingers begin their achingly slow ministrations at your cunt. Your back arches into his touch, but he teases, stroking until you’re feverish with the sensations pulling deliciously low and tight in your abdomen.

At some point, he’s pulled one of your breasts free of the confines of your bra, and his mouth settles over the nipple, laving and suckling until your fingernails leave little half-moons on the back of his neck.

You grind against his fingers, making soft little keening noises, desperate to be filled. Your eyes flit to the wall; a distant figure moves there. Joel follows your gaze. “They ain’t lookin’ in here,” he says.

“And so what…if they are?” you gasp.

There’s a growl from somewhere deep in Joel’s chest and he groans, two fingers finally, finally pushing inside you and curling hard. “You’d like that, huh?”

But you don’t have the words to answer. His big fingers are circling that spot deep within you and his palm grinds on your clit, and then you’re clenching, clenching, almost, so close .

And then you are brutally emptied, and he’s crawling down your body with ravenous hunger, burning a slow trail of lingering kisses to the apex of your thighs. His tongue caresses your clit, and your moan is low and primal, one hand buried in his hair and the other twisted in the long grass, clawing at the earth until you are blissfully full again.

You open your eyes to the stars, you close your eyes and they follow you into the dark.

~*~

You’re draped over his chest as his hand rubs a soothing path up and down your spine. There’s a flicker of light in your peripheral vision, then another, and another–fireflies darting and blinking lazily in the grass.

��Welcome back,” he murmurs into your hair.

“Mmmm.”

He gently extracts you from his arm and sits up, eliciting a little whine, which he pointedly ignores. You roll to your front, burying your nose in the scent of his blanket, the lingering heat of his body.

“C’mon, lazy bones. Up.” He’s tugging at your hand.

“No.”

The music drifts over the field, something soft; Fleetwood Mac.

“It’s a dance.”

“I don’t dance.”

“You do. Ellie said so.”

“She lied.”

He grunts. “I think you’re the one who’s lyin’. Up.”

You huff in protest, but take his hand, knees cracking lightly as you get to your feet.

He holds one hand out, the other around your waist, a proper southern gentleman…and then not. The hand on your back slides down to cup your bare ass through your dress, and you realize at some point he’d removed your panties.

He sways, and you find the rhythm, barely, still drowsy and sated. He hums along with the song into your hair.

When he tries to spin you, your feet catch on the bedroll and you feel yourself falling backward with a little shriek. He pulls you back into him, both strong arms wrapping around your waist.

“Told you,” you mutter into his chest, and his chuckle reverberates in the space between your ribs, straight to your stupid heart.

You look up to meet his eyes, so soft, and something inside you twists, sharp and steady. He’s gazing at you, fucking gazing at you, and your breath catches in your throat.

Untouchable.

His lips start to form the words and a panicky little bird inside you thrashes against your ribs, beating against the confines of your chest.

“I…I–”

The shot rings out, and you drop to the ground on instinct, Joel’s body landing heavy over yours. You wait for more gunfire, hands pressed into the dirt, breathing hard. It’s quiet. There’s a distant shout from the wall.

“Got ‘im!”

Just a straggler, then.

“Hate it when they get close like that,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard, willing your heart to settle. “We should–”

“Yeah,” he agrees, grunting softly as he gets to his feet. He’s distracted now, and you know he’s thinking about Ellie, intent on making sure she’s safe. “Let’s get back.”

~*~

The gunshots from the wall become more frequent as the weeks pass, and the whole community seems drawn into the same stoic, waiting lassitude. You want to blame the heat, but underneath it all is a deep-seated fear that gnaws and twists and burrows like the fungus you’re trying to keep at bay. On the rare occasion he’s with you, Joel is taciturn, even quieter than usual, and Ellie is equally distant from you both.

It’s late August, and you’re eating dinner in the kitchen with Joel and Ellie when she drops the bomb. All the windows in the house are open but there’s no breeze, the air hangs damp and stifling. There’s no conversation, and you’re barely eating, just pushing the food around on your plates in tired silence.

“I’m on patrol tomorrow after school.”

The words are casual enough–like she’s asked one of you to pass the salt–but the fallout is instantaneous.

Joel’s fork clatters to his plate. “Like hell you are.”

She glares at him, but there’s none of her usual tenacity in it, only exhaustion. Her burn has finally healed, but the rift between them is still raw. “I’m sixteen. Tommy says I’m ready.”

“Tommy’s not your fath–your guardian,” he says tightly. “I am.”

“Can you not be a prick about this? For once?”

“If you wanna help, you can go on the wall,” he says. “Safer up there.”

She rolls her eyes. “You’ve seen my aim. I’m not trained in sharpshooting. And anyway, they need patrollers. The wall is full.”

Joel glares at you as if to demand backup, but you don’t meet his eyes. Every kid in Jackson is given a role at sixteen. That Ellie hasn’t had one until now is probably the result of some influence on Joel’s part to keep her within the walls. But she’s right; Jackson needs as many capable hands as they can get, and Ellie is more than qualified.

Joel’s jaw tightens as he realizes you aren’t going to intervene.

“Fine,” he snaps, slamming his hand down on the table, chair screeching against the wood floor as he stands. “Try not to get yourself killed.”

He leaves the house before you can call him back, and you set down your fork, no longer able to pretend you’re interested in eating.

Ellie stabs at her plate with renewed force, sullen. “He treats me like a stupid kid.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Ellie–”

“He’s such a fucking hypocrite. He says he’s protecting me but he’s just protecting himself,” she spits.

“Hey, that’s en–”

“He’s a fucking coward.”

Her eyes are filled with tears that don’t spill over. She glares at you, daring you to tell her she’s wrong, but you can’t.

You’re just as much a coward as him.

“I’m going to Dina’s,” she says, more clattering of dishware, the scraping of her chair against the floor, and then you’re alone at the table in a house that doesn’t belong to you.

~*~

You find him at the bar, hunched over a glass of bourbon that he’s barely touched.

“Thanks for leaving me the dishes,” you say.

He snorts. “Thanks for backing me up.”

“You can sulk all you want, Miller, but she’s right, and you know it,” you sigh, easing yourself onto the seat next to him. You hook one of your legs on the rung under his stool until your knee is brushing his thigh.

The bar is just as miserably hot as everywhere else, but there’s a decrepit floor fan in the corner that stirs the warm air around you. If you close your eyes, you can pretend there’s a faint breeze.

“I see you’re not drinking again,” you nod at his glass, and he grunts.

“Not yet.”

You reach over and take the glass out from under him, lift it to your lips, and take a mouthful of the warm, woody liquid. It lights a slow-burning fire down the seam of your throat. The bartender cocks his head at you, silently asks if you want your own, and you wave him away.

Joel scowls at you but doesn’t attempt to take the drink back.

“She shouldn’t have to…after everything…I kept her safe,” he mutters. “She shouldn’t have to go through it again.”

“You’re out there almost every day,” you say. “At least if she’s bit–”

He shoots you a warning look.

“She’ll be okay,” you say, lowering your voice. “She’ll probably be paired with Tommy. He won’t let anything happen to her.”

“Bet your ass she will,” he grumbles. “I make the damn schedules.” 

“Then you knew this would happen, you jerk,” you kick him lightly in the shin. “And you’re going to let her go out on her first patrol with, ‘Try not to get yourself killed,’ as your parting words of wisdom?”

His shoulders slump.

“She went to Dina’s,” you say. “Go find her. Tell her you love her…or whatever passes for love in your fucked-up, co-dependent worldview, Miller.”

“That’s rich comin’ from you,” he growls, but he’s already turning, sliding off the stool.

“Isn’t it, though?” you say softly, watching him go before you finish the rest of his drink.

~*~

He crawls into your bed that night, rousing you from a light sleep as he curls his body around you and hums into your ear.

“Mmm. Did you find her?”

“Nope.”

You blink sleepily, looking over your shoulder. “Why not?”

He growls into your nape, nips at your hairline. “I switched the schedules. She’s partnered with me.”

“...and Ellie is okay with that?”

“Dunno.”

You roll your eyes. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” he mumbles, latching onto the soft skin at the base of your neck and shoulder. You suck in a breath, trying to focus on the conversation rather than the kiss of his tongue and the bite of his teeth.

“You can’t keep her forever, y’know,” you mutter, stifling a whimper as his hand comes around to grip your naked breast, fingers pressing into your flesh, kneading and pulling and rough in the way you like.

“Can try.”

“God you’re…so stubborn…” Now his hand is sliding down your stomach, rubbing back and forth at the sensitive skin just underneath your sleep shorts, teasing.

“Mmhmm.”

“Christ, Miller, she’s–”

“Shuddup,” he murmurs, pressing a hot kiss to the side of your neck. Then he’s pushing you onto your stomach and tugging down your shorts, hands gripping your ass, spreading your cheeks and making a lewd growl of appreciation at what he finds. One arm comes under your hips, lifting you, and you promptly forget what you were trying to say when he enters you. The room is soon filled with the sound of your combined moans and whimpers and the frenzied smack of his hips against yours.

“Up,” he grunts, one hand cupping your breast as he pulls your back flush against his chest. His hands are in your hair, stroking your stomach, gripping your hips, and he groans in frustration, as if he can’t touch all of you at once. He makes up for it by thrusting harder, forcing you forward to brace yourself on the wall behind your bed until you’re keening at the perfect angle.

The liquid molten pleasure in your belly pools and spreads through your limbs, and you come around him with a harsh cry, thighs trembling, nails scraping down the wall as you grip his cock in a tight throb. Three hard, grinding thrusts and he follows you, fingers melded to your hips. He collapses on top of you, pressing you into the mattress and wrapping you in his arms with a satisfied grunt.

“How’s that for a fucked-up, codependent worldview,” he murmurs, nipping lazily at your earlobe, pulling it into his mouth until you’re squirming underneath him.

“Fuck you, Miller,” you mutter. It’s too fucking hot, you’re stuck together with sweat and come, but you pull his arm tighter around you regardless.

“Just did.”

You chuckle despite yourself. After a few minutes, you push him off, ignoring his protests as you kick away the sheets and blankets and lay like a starfish on the bed. He settles for keeping one hand on your stomach, rubbing sleepy circles around your bellybutton.

“Think she hates me,” he mumbles.

“She’s sixteen,” you sigh. “She’s supposed to hate you a little.”

He snorts, sulking into his pillow.

You thread your fingers through the curls that have overtaken his forehead, damp with sweat and plastered to the skin. You can just make out the furrow between his brows, feel the ridges of worry lines under your thumb.

“You’re both too fucking stubborn,” you say softly. “But if she actually hated you, she wouldn’t spend so much time trying to piss you off.”

He huffs softly, and you allow yourself to be pulled against him, allow your legs to twine with his, allow yourself to fall asleep in his stubborn, sweaty embrace.

[dontyoufinditstrange]

Evermore Lyrics That Alter My Brain Chemistry

Willow:

"the more that you say the less i know" "i'm begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans" "anywhere else is hollow"

Champagne Problems:

"i never was ready so i'll watch you go" "you won't remember all my champagne problems"

Gold Rush:

"i don't like that falling feels like flying til the bone crush" "cause it could never be" "i can't dare to dream about you anymore" "eyes like sinking ships on water so inviting i almost jump in"

Tis The Damn Season

"there's an ache in you put there by the ache in me" "the road not taken looks real good now" "you can run but only so far" "now i'm missing your smile hear me out" "the heart i know i'm breaking is my own"

Tolerate It:

"if it's all in my head tell me now, tell me i've got it wrong somehow" "i know my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it" "where's that man who threw blankets over my barbed wire?" "i made you my temple, my mural, my sky, now i'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life" "always taking up too much space or time"

Happiness:

"showed you all of my hiding spots" "i was dancing when the music stopped" "tell me when did your winning smile begin to look like a smirk?" "when did all our lessons start to look like weapons pointed at my deepest hurt?" "i can't make it go away by making you a villain" "no one teaches you what to do when a good man hurts you and you know you hurt him too"

Dorothea:

"making a lark of the misery" "i got nothing but well wishes for you" "this place is the same as it ever was" "it's never too late to come back to my side" "and if you're ever tired of being known for who you know, you know, you'll always know me" "but are you still the same soul i met under the bleachers?"

Coney Island:

"if i can't relate to you anymore then who am i related to?" "did i shatter you?" "will you forgive my soul?" "did i leave you hanging every single day?" "did i paint your bluest skies the darkest gray?" "a universe away"

Ivy:

"your touch brought forth an incandescent glow" "tarnished but so grand" "grieving for the living" "i can't stop you putting roots in my dream land" "my house of stone, your ivy grows, and now i'm covered in you" "it's a fire, it's a goddamn blaze in the dark and you started it"

Cowboy Like Me:

"now i know, i'm never gonna love again" "it could be love" "we could be the way forward and i know i'll pay for it" "now you hang from my lips like the gardens of babylon" "forever is the sweetest con"

Long Story Short

"actually, i always felt i must look better in the rearview" "now i just know there's more" "and my waves meet your shore ever and evermore" "past me i wanna tell you not to get caught in these petty things" "and he feels like home"

Marjorie:

"i should've asked you questions, i should've asked you how to be" "never be so kind you forget to be clever, never be so clever you forget to be kind" "never be so polite you forget your power, never wield such power you forget to be polite"

Closure:

"it cut deep to know you, right to the bone" "don't treat me like a situation that needs to be handled" "i'm fine with my spite and my tears and my beers and my candles" "i'm just a wrinkle in your new life"

Evermore:

"grey november, i've been down since july" "i replay my footsteps on each stepping stone, trying to find the one where i went wrong" "writing letters addressed to the fire" "and i was catching my breath, staring out an open window catching my death" "hey december, guess i'm feeling unmoored" "can't remember what i used to fight for" "barefoot in the wildest winter catching my death" "and when i was shipwrecked, i thought of you" "in the cracks of light, i dreamed of you"

[iliiuan]

Babylon 5 liveblog

Before we begin, my history with Babylon 5 is patchy. I remember enjoying it, but not watching it regularly. So we'll treat this as a first watch because I don't remember any of it.

Season 1 Episode 1: Midnight on the Firing Lane

OMG you guys. It's *square*. <Takes a moment to bask in nostalgia>

Nice hair Ayla. And nice eyebrows, too.

Aw, poor Ayla. And here I was looking forward to admiring your eyebrows.

Ok yeah I love the Centauris.

Second in command doesn't like the telepath. Interesting. And she's fat phobic. Sigh.

See, it's shows like this that had me thinking the views in space would be great instead of empty.

Snake dude just said "The wheel turns" and I yelped.

So the Centauris are Russian analogs?

Ooh, we get prophecy in this show, too? I'm a sucker for prophecy narratives.

That wasn't ominous at all. "We should let them pass." The glowy orb is a dick.

Ooh, now some casual ableism. Fancy.

Londo is not taking the probable death of his nephew well at all.

How does a telepath not know how to deal with a reluctant commander?

Did I just witness the worst come-on ever, or is that a pre-established relationship?

Evoking Pearl Harbor is an interesting choice. It ties the audience (Americans in 1994) to the future world portrayed, even though it is unlikely that Pearl Harbor will have any particular significance in 200 years.

They're definitely setting up Earth as a parallel to Team USA: World Police. We humans are so self-obsessed. We always have to be the heroes.

Snake guy did NOT like being called a coward.

Loving the special effects. Who says 90s special effects don't age well? Oh, that's right. It's cgi that's trash. I love that there are little model Babylon 5 fighter planes out there collecting dust in someone's collection.

The parallels to the current conflict in Palestine keep hitting. "Ragesh III was a Narn colony until the Centauris invaded and began their 100 year reign of terror. Now that we are free of the invaders, it is our right to reclaim it." Sounds an awful lot like what Israel is trying to accomplish. "We recognize the prior claim. We appreciate that, but reality is that Ragesh III has been Centauri property for over a century. To start a war over blood spilled so long ago... Where does it end? You kill them and take their land. They kill you and take the land back. On and on and on. A cycle of hatred." Sounds an awful lot like the people supporting Israel.

Snake guy totally out played Centauri guy. I still think that Carn gave his message under coercion.

Secret gun disguised as religious artefacts. Very nice.

Wait, does she have to touch people for the telepathy to work? (Turns out it was the intensity. Good to know.)

I ship second in command and the telepath so hard.

Daffy Duck is dude's second favorite thing in the entire universe? What is he, a fucking history major?

[hoonieswhore]

XXV. Babylon

Previous / Masterlist / Next

Written chapter under the line (last flashback)

Word count: 1,2k

Warnings: FLASHBACK CHAPTER. Angst. Mentions of overthinking. Mentions of cheating. The usual curses. Hoon getting mad. Mentions of blackmailing. Hoon being kinda mean.

Taglist: @donghoonie-3 @venusssmoon @moonlighthoon @hooniessslvrss @silkenthusiasts @tobiosbbyghorl (if you want to be added, send an ask<3 Make sure that your age is visible on your profile)

A month has passed since you found out that your personal bully was Sunghoon's ex coach. You'd be lying if you said that the constant messages didn't make you overthink sometimes.

You trusted Sunghoon, you truly did, but everything changed when he stopped taking you to his practices. The boy didn't want you to run into Miss Kim, he knew that she was too obsessed and he didn't want her to hurt you.

In his mind, he was protecting you, but in reality, he was only making you overthink since he was starting to lie to you about his days. Tired of your boyfriend's lies, you decided to visit him at the ice rink.

The figure skater danced smoothly all around the ice rink, doing some tricks and jumping gracefully as he followed his choreography. There was a big competition coming and he needed to train as much as he could.

He finished his act, hearing loud claps from one of the sides of the rink as he panted. An annoyed expression appeared on his face as he noticed that the person that clapped was actually Miss Kim.

The girl ran to the entrance of the rink as she saw him getting out and sitting on a bench to take his skates off. “That was amazing, Hoonie!” she exclaimed, earning a side eye from him. The boy got up from his seat, making his way towards the bathroom before she ran and stopped right in front of him. “Are you still mad at me?” she poured.

Sunghoon scoffed as he rolled his eyes, he tried to continue his path but the girl interrupted him again. “Get the fuck out of my way,” he mumbled, his voice was colder than the ice itself.

“Why are you so mad at me? I didn't do anything to you,” she was interrupted by a sarcastic laugh, watching the boy shaking his head.

“You literally tried to sabotage my relationship and harassed my girlfriend,” he said, stepping aside as he tried to keep walking but the girl grabbed his arm, catching him by surprise.

“That bitch doesn't deserve you, she doesn't love you like I do, Hoonie,” she whined as her eyes got teary. He pulled his arm away from her.

“That's it. You're fucking fired.” He deadpanned, walking away from the girl.

“Are you seriously choosing a whore over me? She's a gold digger, she wants you for your money, she doesn't love you. She's a pathetic bitch.” Sunghoon felt his blood boiling as he heard the girl insulting his baby. He might call her a whore and degrade her in bed but YN was his sweet baby and he wouldn't let anyone talk about her like that.

“Apologize,” he turned around, eyes filled with hate as he stared at Miss Kim. She could say whatever she wanted about him, she could falsely accuse him of cheating, she could say whatever she wanted about him but he wasn't letting her insult his favourite person in the world.

“Why should I? She's nothing but a pathetic bitch, you're better off without her, Hoonie” she took a step closer to him. “You deserve someone that truly loves you and appreciates you.” The boy clenched his jaw, getting angrier with every word that came out from her mouth.

“Shut up,” he exclaimed, frowning as he quickly walked towards her until he was right in front of her, “Shut the fuck up. You can't talk about my girlfriend like that. You don't fucking know her.”

“I do know her type, she's a gold digger Sunghoon, she doesn't love you.” she insisted, watching the boy's face getting red due to his anger.

“And you're a disgusting piece of shit,” he deadpanned, “you're so obsessed with me that you can't accept the fact that I'll never date you, you blackmailed me a thousand times and I kept it to myself because I didn't want my sister to suffer since you said that you'd crush her dreams.”

The girl shook her head, “but Hoonie, you did that because you love me." Sunghoon leaned closer to her face.

“I never loved you, I never even liked you. I was a kid when I kissed you and that was a fucking mistake,” he said, staring into her teary eyes. “So fuck off and leave me and my family alone.”

Sunghoon felt good as he let everything out, seeing the girl in front of him at the verge of tears, something that she earnt. What he didn't notice was that his girlfriend was now inside the building, staring at his back before Miss Kim made eye contact with her. The girl saw her opportunity, so she grabbed Sunghoon's cheeks and kissed him quickly.

The boy was dumbfounded and disgusted. He quickly placed his hands on her shoulders as he pulled away but before he could say anything, he heard a sob.

Sunghoon felt the cold down his spine as he turned around, seeing the love of his life heartbroken. He saw the tears running down your cheeks before you shook your head and turned around, running away from the situation.

“Fuck you, look what you fucking did, I hate you!” he yelled at Miss Kim before he ran after you. “YN,” he screamed, following your steps until he reached you, grabbing your arm and making you stop, “Baby, please.” You shook your head.

“How could you?” your voice was breaking, just like your heart, “Sunghoon, why?” You cried harder, you felt sad but also angry. Sunghoon stared at you, not knowing what to say as he saw the sadness and disappointment in your eyes.

“Sunghoon, you just fucking cheated on me, won't you say anything?” you angrily asked as you felt your heart pounding in your chest and a deep void in your stomach. You felt like throwing up, you felt your heart breaking into a million pieces as he just stared at you. “She was right after all…” you whispered, trying to wipe your tears with the sleeve of your hoodie.

“What?” he asked, his sadness getting mixed with his anger, “did you just say that she was right?” Sunghoon knew how you felt but he felt even more hurt now that you said it as if you were waiting for it to happen.

“So that's all you have?” you pulled your hand away from his grasp, “You fucking kissed her and that's all you have to say?”

“You just fucking admitted that you thought I was capable of that,” he let his anger take control over him, “my own girlfriend didn't fucking trust me? Well, now I fucking wish I cheated on you.”

His words felt like a thousand bullets going straight to your heart. You gulped, trying to assimilate his words as the boy realized what he just said, instantly regretting it whilst shaking his head.

“No- I- Yn I didn't-” he tried to apologize as he started to cry again, “I didn't mean to, I'm so sorry,” he tried to hold your hand but you pulled it away before he could even graze it.

“We're done,” you whispered, turning around and walking away from him, tears running down your face as you heard him calling your name and walking behind you until you ran away, leaving him alone with his broken heart.

[maguro13-2]

Shattered Hero Rekindled ~ Origins of the Ink Demon : Episode Maka Pt.6 ~

Knuckles : So, you're a fast learner, but still to be the best racer there is. You knew about everything what you believed in the world Extreme Gear, how come you know about everything in this world. Tails, do you have the boards for these two speedsters?

Tails : Right, Knuckles. Here, guys. Here are your boards. Both two new blue stars.

Mysterious Racer/Nozomi : Wow...I always wanted a board like this!

*clears throat*

Mysterious Racer/Nozomi : I mean...I never tried one of these before, haven't I?

Sonic : Sure you do. My blue Star can be the fastest, if only someone would play a dirty trick.

Wave : *laughing* Well, well, well. If it ain't shorty with two tails. Still thinking about being in the race with that kind of board.

"WAVE THE SWALLOW : Third of the Babylon Rogues"

Mysterious Racer/Nozomi : You must be the feathered lady of those guys.

Mysterious Cloaked Girl (Sayaka) : One of the so-called Babylon Rogues.

Wave : Right, the first time! Wave the Swallow is my name. That's a nice looking gear, but there are two of them. Both of them are unique and customized.

Tails : I gave them two Blue Stars, this one's for Sonic and the other is for his "friend".

Wave : Friend you say? Let me take a look.

*Looks at Sonic's blue star*

Mysterious Racer/Nozomi : (in mind) Can't say how I put this, but she's great at specializing in those type of boards. Hmm? What is she up to now?

[Message by Michiru Yamane]

Mysterious Racer/Nozomi : (in mind) Is she planting a device that sabotages his board. I better find out what's going on and I do not like to play with one of their tricks.

Tails : So whatcha' think?

Wave : Hmmm? You know what I think of it...*starts laughing*

Mysterious Racer/Nozomi : Not cool...!

Wave : So, two boards for both a blue furry bum and a tall human friend who wanted to enter a race for a piece of junk. *chuckles*

*Nozomi taps on her should*

Wave : Yeah, what do you want?

*DBZ SFX : Strong Punch*

Wave : AHHH!!!

*THUD*

Wave : HEY! WHY'D YOU DO THAT!

Mysterious Racer/Nozomi : You'd better best to take that back about what you said about my friend's racing days. This is about sportsmanship, a place full of losers like you should be put. You best watch your back or else you won't be talking smack about my friend's extreme gear. I best you could shake your own tail feathers.

Wave : Hmph! Fine! But if you're really clever about your friend, then he'll have to be here somewhere in this world of troubles, that I demanded to know. And yet, I'd never realize that you would bring a human to the race. I'll get you for this real good.

Amy : Oh, that girl! Who does she think she is, but nice job on making a comeback to her. That was really sweet of you.

Knuckles : Yeah, Sonic. Your friend's great with her social skills, but I didn't know that she could even threw a great punch, tho.

Mysterious Racer/Nozomi : Oh, stop it. I can roast them whatever I want to do even, if they get out of my way.

*Steam Whistling*

Tails : *grumbles angrily*

Mysterious Cloaked Girl (Sayaka) : Don't get ahead yourself, fox boy. Don't let her words rattle you, you know how we feel when stand up to a jerkass like her. I could make her eat dirt.

Tails : Thanks, I hardly, understand that. Thanks for advising me.

Mysterious Cloaked Girl (Sayaka) : Me too, foxy.

Omochao : Where are those idiots!? Tell Sonic and his friends to get their asses in position now! The race is about to begin and if I don't find them, the network president will fire me for sure!

Sonic : Oh man, it's Omochao! He needs us in the race. Hey, racer. Aren't you coming along with us?

Mysterious Racer/Nozomi : Sure, I'll come along with you.

Mysterious Cloak Girl (Sayaka) : Don't forget about me, Miyata-san--I mean, me another Mysterious Racer. Plus, I even have my own board.

*holds out her own Yellow Tail Board*

Tails : Hey, you have the same board as I do. That makes us quite the same.

Mysterious Racer 2 (Sayaka Miyata) : Same to you, Fox boy. Okay, everyone, let's get to racing!

Mysterious Racer/Nozomi : Right!

*the group runs off for the race*

*Meanwhile in Africa..."

~ BLOOD FALCON FORTRESS ~

Seto : Okay, Seto. This must be the fortress left by the former Contra when they are the enemy to stop the triumvirate. And now that heartless are running amok in this place. Time for a little extermination. Ready, Solva?

Solva : Ready!

[Fortress by Akira Yamaoka plays]

Seto : Alrighty...! *puts on some shades* Let's do this!

*the girls starts battling their way through*

Heartless : Damn! That reaper girl who is going through the old army base in africa, hope we borrowed stuff from Konami to bring out the leftovers of Contra.

Seto : Get out of the way!

Solva : Make way for the two of us!

*heartless on a biker appears*

Heartless Biker : You won't get passed us, girls! We'll ram you over!

Seto : Think again! *uses a fire technique at the biker*

*BOOM*

Seto : Oops! Did we broke their ride?

Solva : Let's keep pummel our way through!

Seto : There's plenty of more where that came from! Hope we're finding out why?

Heartless : Two against one can play at this game! Bring out Magnus! Magnus the Tank!

*Super Magnetic Tank Magnus MK IV appears risen*

Seto : So, you brought out your little toys that can really stop us? Ha! What a joke!

*Magnus firing missiles*

Seto : Darn! It's firing missiles!

Solva : Better stay frosty!

Seto : Hope I can get this sucker for good! Huuut!

*Magnus Tank leaps*

Seto : It leaped!

*Target beeping*

Solva : Watch out! That target market will strike at you!

Seto : I know! But no good enough as this!

*Destroys Magnus Tank+Explodes*

Seto : Now take down those structures, and burn them real good!

Solva : Good, I just hit the canisters to make them Toast!

*destroys the canisters that explodes+killing the heartless*

Solva : Yeah! Extra sizzling shadows!

Seto : Now then, Let's get in target range. But first I need to dispose from behind.

Solva : No probs.

*throws Knives at the heartless*

Solva : Nice shot!

Heartless : I don't know how these two made it this far at the base, but I'm just getting the point that they will know their place. I just set up a trap that will eventually work this time! Bring out the machine!

Seto : Hey, what now?

*The Factory Demolition Machine appears*

Solva : Seto...?

Seto : Yes, Solva...?

Solva : I think that's going to hurt us...alot! Let's stick together and destroy the machines. You take the lefft one...!

Seto : And I'll let you take the right! Get to destroying!

*the two starts battling the machine*

Heartless : *laughs evilly* You girls are no match for the pseudo ruler of the Underworld. He'll be in great use to be the Galaxy's newest ruler! I'm certainly doubting that he'll make a fine use of this universe once and for all when all the darkness shall be unleashed.

Solva : I wonder what that Dark Nebula fella meant of rulling the Galaxy as his own?

Seto : What we do know is...It's going to find a host, but if we don't save the galaxy right now, we'll be a heartless sandwich for Nebula.

Solva : But where on earth would he get a body to host?

Seto : It could be anyone, but I believe he's going to find his targets. Ansem and that Xemnas fella made a deal with Dark Nebula, but why does he needed to get out of that prison alive?

Solva : Someone's trying to put the ace up in their sleeves.

*the two destroy the last two sets of the machine*

Solva : Alright, now we have to do is to disarm the center of the machine.

Seto : I'll slam dunk it in there!

*Uses dark technique to the destroy the machine's center*

*the Machine explodes+and shuts off*

Seto : That's the last of it! Okay, let's get going!

Solva : Hai!

*the girls continued battle their way through*

*Helicopter flying*

Solva : Hey, look a transport! Maybe help is on the way.

Seto : ....I don't think that's no transport.

*The Helicopter destroys the bridge*

Seto & Solva : WAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!

[Mountains Area by Akira Yamaoka]

Seto : Hang tight! This is about to get extreme!

Solva : I got my snowboard too, you know! Just in case!

Heartless : ATTACK!!!

Seto : I'm taking them all out! One by one!

*shoots down the enemies with her attacks*

Seto : Cutting it close!

Solva : Not close enough, we got an enemy our tail!

Seto : Ah nuts!

*the Snow Worm from Shin Contra appears*

Seto : I won't be worm food! I'll roast them alive for ya!

*Seto destroys the snow worm's body with a fire bal*

Seto : Now open wide!

*Rifle Cocks*

*GUNSHOT*

*Snow Worms gets destroyed+dies in the body*

Seto : That's how I don't eat a can full of worms.

Solva : You said it!

*scene later changes*

Solva : Alright! I think we made it!

Seto : Agree!

??? : TARGET SIGHTED!

*Helicopter Flying*

Seto : Hey, that transport that nearly shot us is...

*The helicopter reveals to be Mr. Heli-Robo from Shin Contra*

Seto : Just as I expect, a transforming robot.

Solva : Aww, Too bad. It seems that it doesn't want us to leave.

Seto : It won't let us give up, I bet it's surprising that we might take him down we can proceed.

Solva : *notices something in the sky* Oh no! What's that in the Sky!?

Seto : Oh crummers!

Mr. Heli-Robo : *charges* PREAPRE FO--

*DBZ SFX : Loud Explosion+BOOMING*

Seto : No way! Is this what I think it is!?

Master Hand/Announcer : SETO & SOLVA...VS...SLAVE BEAST TAKA!

*Taka Roars*

Seto : This looks quite superstitious.

~ Level 05 : Entrusted Encounter ~

[woodsfae]

Previous episode (B5 the Gathering) here!

Alright, I’m posted up with my oral surgery recovery-friendly pudding and ep 1! I decided to pick a tag for all my first time Babylon 5 watching, which is the first one I’ve tagged below, so y’all can follow or blacklist that as you like.

Babylon 5: Midnight on the Firing Line

I’ve definitely watched too much classic sci-fi because these extremely dated visual effects make me so happy. I love them.

Garibaldi is here, Centauri Ambassador is here, there’s a new crew member...where’s Laurel?! I need her to be in this.

 I hated Londo every second in the Gathering but he’s hilarious in this so far.

I really have to get the main alien species and ambassador names down. In my head they’re Hair, Spots, Rock Garden, and Vorlon.

Hair: Centauri - Londo Mollari Spots: Narn - G’Kar Rock Garden: Minbari? Delenn? Vorlon - Kosh

I caved and googled Laurel and am utterly devastated to find out that my beloved will not be a series regular. This is so unfair. I have strong words to send 29 years into the past.

Ivanova has the same eyeliner style that I did in 2007. Not sure if she’s ahead of her (series release) time, or I was way behind mine (probably the latter).

Mister Garibaldi. You are sitting at my station, using my equipment. Is there a reason for this? Or to save time should I just go ahead and snap your hands off at the wrist?

Ivanova is growing on me. I support women threatening disproportionate, gratuitous violence. And Garibaldi is such a limp rag (affectionate). I wanna see her wring him out over the hydroponics.

This is so homoerotic.

Will someone please say Rock Garden’s name and species? Why are all the characters so averse to using her name? Is this Delenn? I’ve seen gifs that I think are of her.

Oh shit Ivanova is sexy as fuck with her hair down and that dangly choker necklace.

whoof. Girl.

It’s so hard picking what to quote/gif, because I want to quote and gif practically everything Ivanova says in this scene. So I compromised by making two gifs with no quotes.

Now. Kiss. Seriously. Because that is not a straight look. They gay.

“When they discover what you are [...] you can join the Psi Corps, or go to prison.” damn, that’s dystopian as fuck.

Holy shit. 😳🥵 I’ve shipped on less. This is from the 90’s so if it’s queerbaiting I won’t be surprised but holy hell, these two are queer as hell for each other.

I am so relieved that the thing Garibaldi wanted to show Rock Garden is old Daffy Duck cartoons. This is only reinforcing my opinion that he’s a wringable dishrag (affectionate.)

[end episode]

My final thoughts are: 1. the series writers have a serious aversion to using female characters’ names. Tumblr tags suggested Susan Ivanova for me, but I had to ecosia-search “Babylon 5 telepaths” and then the suggested list of names to get to Talia Winters. I am now pretty confident that Rock Garden is actually named Delenn.

2. This show is exactly the sort of thing I love, and I’m pleased that I’m watching it right when the remastered version is available. So crisp! So pretty!

3. How rampant are spoilers? I already saw something about Ivanova being a clone, so I’m assuming I should avoid looking things up. Hence why I don’t know what probably-Delenn’s species is called.

Also, I figured out how to make HBO play on firefox, which also fixed the screen recording for gifs issue! Huzzah!

Next Episode

[goldensstateofgrace]

- Love Along The Way-   Chapter I

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Asks/ Lmk what you thought | 

Series Summary:  Reader joins the band in writing songs for their third album (Youngblood) and love finds her along the way. 

Chapter Summary: Y/n is working in the studio when Calum walks in on her writing ‘Babylon’ and it goes from there. 

A/N:  SURPRISE BESTIES!!! IT’S HERE!! AHH i’m so happy with this chapter!! I hope you all love this series as much as i love writing it!! All I am asking is that you give me your patience between chapters because i am a slow writer and i’ve been going through a hard time mentally. 

Warnings: talk of cheating, mom reader, heartbreak, cancer ( not in detail), lmk if i missed anything! 

Word count: 6k

I hope you guys enjoy!! I worked very hard on this and I’m super proud of it!! 

Happy reading!! - G

You’d had these lyrics stuck in your head, replaying on a loop for a while now, but hadn’t had any time to actually get them down on paper. 

You weren’t going to lie, this last year has been a clusterfuck.  From Easton breaking up with you,  basically telling you he found someone else and that he wants nothing to do with you or Elijah, to not being able to write because you’ve been transitioning Elijah into preschool (he was not having it.) It was safe to say it had been a very rough year for you. 

When you did sit down and try to write, nothing would come to mind. All of your anger and heartbreak were there and ready to be used to make beautiful music others could relate to, but you just couldn’t come up with anything. Well, besides those lyrics, it was a longshot trying to come up with anything for that either. 

Maybe it was still too fresh, and maybe you were still heartbroken, but you just needed to do something besides sit in bed wallowing in your self pity. 

Of course, Elijah didn’t know what was happening. He just knew ‘daddy’ left and that he hasn’t been back. You didn’t have the guts or the courage to break his heart by telling him ‘daddy’ wasn’t coming back. He was three, he wouldn’t understand, but it also broke your heart all over again when he asked in his tiny curious voice ‘da-ddy?’ 

What were you supposed to say, “I'm sorry baby, but ‘daddy’ doesn’t love us anymore and he’s not coming back?” No, you weren’t going to do that to him. 

But as you sit there on the dark studio couch, the lyrics on the tip of your tongue, it's like you can’t get anything out. You have them right there in front of you, your black bass guitar sitting in your lap as you strum the bass line softly and hum along until you finally try and sing out the lyrics. 

“We said we’d both love harder than we knew we could go,” you sang softly into the empty room, thinking back to nights when you laid next to Easton, talking about how much you loved each other and how neither of you would ever stop because you loved each other more and more everyday. 

“But still knowing when to let go- no” you shake your head, not liking how that sounded.  “But still the hardest part is knowing when to let go” nodding, you scratch out your previous lyrics and replace them before you go back to picking at the cords, finding where you left off. 

You were so focused on the lyrics, mumbling to yourself and scratching out lyrics and replacing them you didn’t hear the studio door open. 

You were struggling on a particular verse, mumbling to yourself as you read off the lyrics written in what looks like chicken scratch in the notebook layed out in front of you. 

“You wanted to go higher, higher, higher, we-” but you stopped, stumped on what should come next. You sing what you already have out, trying to come up with anything but fall back into the couch cushions groaning when you don’t. 

“We burn too bright, now the fire’s gone, watch it all fall down” a voice sings out, startling you, and you let out a gasp. Looking up at the tall curly headed man standing at the door, your brows furrow. You were supposed to have this studio for two hours. He was dressed in a pair of basketball shorts, and a ‘The tonight show, Starring Jimmy Fallon’ gray shirt. A pair of Vans covered his feet and tattoos covered his arms. 

“Just thought I'd suggest something that came to mind,” the accented man voices, walking down the small step from the door and down where you are. You watch as he takes a seat on the small black loveseat against the wall across from yours. 

You close your eyes and sing the words in your head, strumming the bass as you do. “Thanks, that’s actually really helpful,” you tell him, writing it down. “How long were you standing there?” you ask him, looking over his dark curly hair and down to his brown eyes that look over you just as you are him. 

“Just a minute or two. Didn’t expect anyone to be in here, the band is supposed to have booked it for a few hours today.” 

You look down at your watch hearing his words and gasp at the time.You were almost twenty minutes late to pick up Elijah from preschool. 

“Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I lost track of time” you tell him, quickly placing the bass back on its stand in the corner next to the couch and packing your notebook and music sheets in your bag. 

“It’s ok, happens to the best of us,” his deep accented voice carries towards you as you see him shrug his shoulder out of the corner of your eye. “I’m Calum by the way,” he introduces himself, holding out his hands as you move to walk past him. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Y/n and also very late to -” you hesitate, not wanting to tell a stranger you just met about your son. “ To a dinner” you finish, shaking his hand before walking around him and to the door. 

Your hand is on the handle and pulling it open, before you hesitate, awkwardly turning over your shoulder to say, “It was nice to meet you, thank you for the lyrics,” you smile at him. 

He nods, sending you a friendly smile. “Any time”. 

You watch his eyes roam over you before you wave and head out, a smirk playing on your lips. 

Quickly, you make it to your car, driving 10 over the speed limit and making it to the preschool near your house in record time. You run up the sidewalk, signing Elijah out at the front desk before making your way down the hall to his classroom. 

He’s playing blocks with two other kids who happen to be siblings, Avery and Jase, not even paying you any mind, too engrossed in building a tall tower just for it to fall down landing all over the play mat. 

“Elijah, mommy’s here,” his teacher, Miss. Rachel, calls him when she sees you in the doorway. You watch as his head quickly turns your way, a bright smile spreading across his chubby cheeks. 

“Mommy!” he squeals, standing to his feet and running to you. His small arms wrap around your thighs, his cheeks squished as he looks up at you with his bright smile. 

“Hi baby! Did you have fun today?” You smile, squatting down to his level and squeezing him to your chest as you place kisses all over his face. 

He nods against you, pulling back as he tells you all about how he painted you a picture but that you had to wait to see it because it had to dry overnight. 

“I can’t wait to see it, baby! We’ll have to hang it on the fridge” you tell him as you grab his bag off the hook, telling him to go help clean up the blocks and a few cars that were laying out when you see that the parents of Avery and Jase are also here. 

When he’s all done you pick him up, placing him on your hip as you walk out to the car, his head resting on your shoulder as his eyes fall heavy. You know he’ll fall asleep the minute you start driving. 

You load him into his car seat and buckle him in before heading down the street, taking a few left turns and passing tall, two story gated houses before you pull into your own gated driveway. You bought this house with Easton, but only you signed the mortgage, so it was easy for him to move out. No need to sign paperwork or go to court. You’re so thankful for that. 

You wanted a safe neighborhood for Elijah to grow up in, and this is it. You moved in when he was a newborn, you did have to sign an NDA because some celebrity lived in one of the houses across from you, but you'd never seen them so you didn’t know who it was.

As you expected, when you went to grab Elijah out of his car seat he was out like a light, his mouth open as he rested the side of his tanned forehead on the side of the padded car seat. 

Smiling softly at his sleeping form, you gently unbuckled him and rested him on your chest as you walked into your house and to the couch. You had a net that attached to one end of your couch that stopped about mid center of the cushions to stop him from rolling off. He doesn’t roll around in his sleep often, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. You place him behind it and lay his favorite blanket over him before you walk into the kitchen to start on dinner. 

--------

It’s been a week since you ran late in the studio and Calum walked in on you. For some odd reason, you couldn’t get him out of your head. You had barely even talked to the guy but yet he was stuck in your head. His lyrics were stuck, replaying in your mind. He had only stood there for a minute or two, but yet the lyrics he sang went so well with yours. 

You were back in the same studio today, placing the finishing touches on the lyrics before you recorded the demo for it and eventually sold it to an artist or band to make their own. 

You look up, your brows furrowing when you hear loud laughter out in the hall, but you brush it off and finish setting up your computer on the panel so you could record the demo when you were done with the lyrics. 

Standing, you make your way into the booth, setting up a stool and pulling the bass guitar and it’s stand into the booth as well. You didn’t hear the door open, or the four laughing men walk into the room until you go to step back into the studio where the panel is. 

Your brows furrow when your eyes meet Calum’s brown ones, his face showing shock before it turns into a bright smile as his cheeks scrunch up. It reminds you of Elijah’s. You know you weren’t late to pick him up or running over your studio time because you booked the studio until lunch; it was only 10:30am. 

“We really gotta stop meeting like this,” Calum jokes with you, his bright smile making something flutter in you. 

“But this time it’s not my fault,” you tell him, smiling and looking at the three other very tall men standing behind him. 

The tall blonde with blue eyes and curly hair that ends at his ears smiles at you, showing off his dimples, “I’m Luke, it’s nice to meet you.” he introduces. 

You smile politely. “It’s nice to meet you too, I'm Y/n.�� 

“Oh we know,” the red head chuckles. His hair is clearly dyed, but it suits him. His smile is bright and contagious. “Cal over here couldn’t stop talking about you and how amazing of a songwriter you are. I’m Ashton,” he tells you, holding out his hand for you to shake. 

You quirked an eyebrow up in Calum’s direction. “Is that so,” you tease, watching as his cheeks tint a shade of pink while you shake Ashton’s hand. 

“Oh yeah,” the shorter blonde one speaks up. “He even looked you up, wanted to know if you were selling that song you were working on. I’m Michael, but you can call me Mikey.” 

“Well you’re in luck, I was just about to record the demo for it. But if you’re interested you can have a look at the finished lyrics,” you tell them, pulling out the pages of printed lyrics from your bag.

They all nod, sitting down on the couches. You hand Calum the papers, smiling down at him before you take a seat at the panel, watching as they all huddle around Calum to read the lyrics. 

A chorus of ‘holy shit’s’ and ‘fuck that’s good’ sound as they finally put the paper down and stare at you. 

“So, you like it?” you ask. 

“Do we like it?” Ashton asks incredulously, looking at the boys and shaking his head in a way that says he can’t believe you asked that. 

“Yeah, y/n. We like it.” Calum tells you. “We're working on our third album right now and I think it would be great to add it to the album,” he says, looking at the other guys as they nod along in agreement. 

“That’s great, we can sign all of the paperwork soon.” you say, excited you don’t have to record the demo now. It’s always the hardest part. “I wrote a bit of a bass line, but nothing else so do whatever with it.” 

“We actually have something to ask you,” Ashton says, nudging Cal in the arm. Cal glares at him with a look like ‘knock it off’. 

“We were talking after I played some of the other songs you’ve written.You’re an amazing songwriter and we wanted to know if you wanted to help us write our album?” he asks, a bit shyly you notice. 

You’ve never written with someone or a band, not because you didn’t want to, you’ve just never had the opportunity. The only reason you would even consider turning this down was Elijah; you couldn’t take this opportunity if it was going to keep you from him. 

You weren’t really keen on telling people you barely knew about your son, but if you wanted to work with them and still have enough time for Elijah they needed to know. 

“Look,” you sigh, watching their shoulders deflate a bit and their hopeful expressions drop a tad. “I would love to, but you need to know I have a 3 year old  son, and I can’t have this taking me away from him. I promised myself when I got pregnant that I would always choose him over anything. Even if it is my dream. So,” you prompt, “if we can work around me having time with him then I’m in.”  

They all assure you that they’d help you make time for him. Ashton really hit home with you when he tells you, “I totally understand you wanting to make time for him, I grew up with only my mom and my two little siblings. We’ll make sure you get time with him.” he smiles softly at you, a knowing but sad look in his eyes. 

You smiled at him softly, thanking him and the guys, “I grew up with only my mom too. It was hard, but she was the best mother and role model. She was the strongest woman I know.” 

“Was?” Calum asked softly. Looking at you with gentle but curious eyes. 

You nod, smiling sadly. “She passed away a year and a half after Elijah was born. Breast cancer. It was really hard.” The memories come rushing back, and tears well up in your eyes, but you push them down, not wanting to cry. 

You all talked for a while, working out when you were available and what times it would be good to meet at the studio. It was when you were all packing up that Ashton proposed a chill night. “We should all hang out and have a night where we get to know each other better, drink and just talk.” 

There was a chorus of agreements, but when you hadn’t said anything they all stared at you waiting for your answer. 

“That actually sounds like fun, I'll be there. Just let me know a time and place,” you tell them smiling. You haven’t had a night to yourself since before Easton left, so you were long overdue. 

Calum offered to host it at his house, before you all exchanged numbers and left for the day. You planned on picking up Elijah early and taking him out for ice cream. It was his favorite treat and it was pretty hot today, so you decided it was a good day to indulge. 

You were just pulling up outside of the preschool when your phone vibrated in the cup holder next to you. Pulling it out, you see the message notification reading ‘Calum Hood’ swiping it and unlocking your phone the text pulls up.  

That should work for you, Elijah has been going to sleep around that time and you should be able to get Jessie to come over and watch him for a few hours while you’re over there. His address sticks out to you, not because you thought you’ve heard of it before but because it was basically your address just a few numbers off. 

Maybe he’s why you had to sign the NDA. He most likely has had fans coming to his home and waiting around to even get a glimpse of him in the past and didn’t want this address to get out to the public. 

Quickly sending him back a text, you put your phone back in the cupholder and go in to grab Elijah. 

------

The next day you were up and finishing off the last ‘Mickey Mouse’ pancake for a late breakfast. You were surprised Elijah stayed asleep past 8am, it was currently almost 11am and you were just about to go check on him and tell him breakfast was ready when he came padding around the corner rubbing his eyes with his tiny fists. 

“Well good morning little man,” you smile down at him, placing blueberries on his ‘Mickey Mouse’ pancake for eyes, chocolate chips for the mouth and a blackberry as the nose all adhered with whipped cream. Elijah was allergic to strawberries, or otherwise you would have added those in somehow. 

You woke to a message from Calum, replying to your message from last night. It was only sent about forty minutes before you woke up, but you didn’t see it until you were in the middle of making breakfast. 

You typed out a reply with one hand while flipping a normal round pancake for you and sending it. 

 You couldn’t figure out why you were smiling. He was a very attractive man, nothing like the guys you’ve dated in the past. Maybe that’s why you’re attracted to him. He’s not like the other guys who have treated you badly in the past; he’s nice and caring and didn’t run the second you mentioned you had a son. 

When you and the guys had been talking yesterday in the studio he asked to see a photo of Elijah. He told you how adorable he was, and how he looked just like you. Calum seems to be such a genuine and down to earth guy and if you weren’t careful you would fall for him. And hard. 

Carefully, you cut Elijah’s pancake up in little bites for him to eat, and pour a small amount of syrup over his and yours. 

You watch as he uses his green plastic fork. He has his mouth wide open the whole time as he carefully brings it up to his mouth. 

You cheer and kiss his cheek happily when he looks up at you excited when he got it in his mouth without dropping it. 

“Look at you! You don’t even need mommy anymore, you're such a big boy!” you smile down at him, taking a bite of your own pancake. He laughs his small contagious laugh, picking up another piece of pancake. 

“Baby, I need to talk to you about something” you say to him, making him look up at you with his wide brown eyes, his fork just at the entrance of his mouth. 

“T-trouble?” he asks you over his chewing, still looking up at you. 

“No, baby,” you chuckle, wiping the corner of his mouth where there was a bit of syrup threatening to drip down on his pj’s. “You’re not in trouble.” 

“But I have a big job.’ you tell him, “ A band asked me to help them write music for their album, so it might not always be me picking you up from daycare, it might be Miss. Jessie sometimes, is that ok?” 

He nods excitedly. “Yeah! Mi-miss Jessie is nice to m-me!” he stutters a bit as he gets excited. 

“Okay, also, i have a friend and he invited us over to swim! Do you want to go swimming?” you ask him as you sip the last of your coffee before eating the last bit of your pancakes. 

“Yeah!” he shouts. He’s been taking swimming lessons since he was two, he knows what to do if he falls into the pool. He loves the water too, he's a little fish when it comes to the water. 

You both finish eating and while you rinse off the dishes and place them in the dishwasher Elijah runs into his room screaming excitedly about going swimming. You laugh, shaking your head at his antics before following after him when you’re done loading the dishwasher. 

You change his diaper into one of those swimming ones with cars on it, before pulling a pair of yellow swim shorts over the diaper.  When you have him changed, you pack his diaper bag with a change of clothes, an extra swim and regular diaper along with sunscreen and his yellow bucket hat. 

You double check you have everything before you put his sandals on and bring him into your room so you can change into your blue bikini. It had high rise bottoms and the cups actually covered all of your breasts. You throw on a white cover up before sliding your own sandals on and heading out. 

Since his house is literally one house down from yours and across the street, you decide to just walk over. 

The sun was beating down on you as you walked out of the front door and locked it behind you. You text Calum that you’re on your way over before putting your phone in the diaper bag and heading down your driveway. 

It only takes you a minute to walk down the sidewalk and cross the street to his house. Checking your phone to see if he messaged you back when you’re outside the black gate, he did, telling you the gate was open and just to come in. 

You push open the gate, closing it behind you once you’re on the other side. There’s a black range rover parked in front of the open garage where you heard what sounded like an air pump. 

Walking towards the garage and around the black SUV, you see Calum’s familiar dark curls  as he kneels on the concrete blowing up a small turtle pool floaty. 

“Hey,” you greet Calum as you place Elijah down on his feet and squat behind him, pulling up his yellow shorts from where they fell down on the walk over. 

Looking up, you’re greeted with that bright white smile you’ve seen a few times at the studio but never fails to warm your heart. 

“Hey, I'm glad you guys could come!” Calum greets you, plugging the hole on the floaty before he turns off the air pump. He stands up just to walk a few steps in front of you and kneel down to Elijah’s level. “It’s nice to meet you Elijah, I’m Calum,”  he introduces himself sweetly as he smiles down at your son. 

Elijah giggles, turning into you as hiding his face on your leg. “Don’t be shy, baby,” you chuckle, running your hand over the back of his dark hair. You smile up at Calum, his face showing nothing but happiness and  eyes  lit up with pure adoration. 

“Can you say hi? Say, ‘Hi Calum’” you whispered in Elijah's ear, chuckling when  he shook his head and held on tighter to you. 

 “The tickle monster is gonna get you,” you sing out, your hands unwinding from him and to his sides where you tickle him. Elijah lets out his high pitched laughter, giggling at  you to stop as he tries to squirm out of your hold. 

“Hi!” he squeals loudly and you stop tickling him. Elijah turns around to face Calum, smiling up at him as he says, “Hi, Ca- calum.” 

“Hi, buddy. Are you ready to go swimming?” 

Elijah shouts out a ‘Yes!’ throwing his hands in the air and singing the song he was singing this morning about going swimming. 

“Sw-imming swimm-ing i going swimming” he shouts, causing you and Cal to break out in laughter. 

----- 

Calum was amazing. 

He was so sweet and caring with Elijah. Playing the same game over and over for almost an hour just to hear Elijah’s loud laughter. 

Catching your three year old over and over when he learned it was okay to jump into the pool and dunking him when he caught him just to throw him a few feet away in the water. 

Elijah’s loud laugher reverberated around the backyard and the trees that were planted against the walls encasing the closed off area. You felt pure joy at hearing his laughter. You knew he was feeling down with everything that’s happened with Easton, and hearing his laughter reminded you just what you have to live for, what’s waiting for you on good days and bad. 

Elijah is your whole world, your little sunshine, and you couldn’t imagine life without him. 

Looking over at the pool where Elijah and Calum were splashing each other, big contagious smiles spread across their faces and laughter flowing from their chests, you can’t help but smile. Watching them warms your heart. 

You were sitting on a couch in the shade next to the pool, Duke in your lap sleeping peacefully until Ashton’s loud voice invaded the bubble you all had been wrapped up in for the last four hours. 

“Hey, why wasn’t I invited?” he fake pouts as he stands in the doorway of the sliding glass doors. His hands rest on his hips as his eyes flicker around to all of you. 

“Thought you were with Kaykay,” Calum calls over to him, shrugging as he holds Elijah to his chest. That makes your heart flutter, seeing how tightly he holds him and how Elijah wraps his arms around Calums neck, a huge smile playing on his face. 

“Again,” Elijah giggled out. 

“Again? Ok,” Calum chuckled, throwing Elijah up in the air, his contagious laughter ringing out before he fell into the water below. You watch as Elijah swims to the surface,wiping his face of water and calling out ‘Again!’

Time flew by, because the last time you checked your phone was when you all sat down to have a bit of lunch around two, and it was now almost four thirty. 

Ashton made his way over to the long outdoor couch you were sitting on and took a seat in the spot next to you. 

“Is that Elijah?” he asks you softly, his eyes trained on Calum and Elijah who were spinning in the water before Calum launched your son in the air again as he let out a squeal of happiness. 

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “That’s E. He’s a handful.” 

Ashton smiles, letting out a deep chuckle, “I bet. He’s adorable, he looks just like you,” he tells you. 

“Thank you. When he was a baby he looked so much like my mom it was crazy.” you smile softly to yourself, remembering when you found old pictures of your mom and put one side by side with one of Elijah’s. They were practically identical. 

You were brought out of your thoughts when a small wet body climbed up in your lap and laid his head on your shoulder tiredly. “Are you tired, E?” you ask him softly, moving his wet hair - he needs a haircut - off his forehead before placing a light kiss upon it. 

He nods tiredly against you, his small hand lazily stroking the top of Duke’s head. The dog  had moved to  cuddle into the side of your thigh when Ashton sat down. 

Calum appeared in front of you, a towel wrapped around his hips as he smiled down at you softly, holding out a towel for you. “Thank you,” you tell him, taking the towel and wrapping it around Elijah to try and keep him warm and dry him off. 

“Should we just call Luke and Mikey and tell them to come over now? Since we're already here?” Ashton asks as Calum sits on the ‘L’ part of the couch next to your legs. “Did you drive here?” he asks you, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t see your car out there when I pulled in.” 

“Oh, no,” you shake your head. “I live across the street.” 

Ashtons eyebrows raise in surprise before he lets out a chuckle, “wow, small world.” 

You nod, “if you guys want to call Luke and Mikey that’s okay with me, but the babysitter I have  for E can’t come until 7, she has a family thing.” you tell them, looking down at the small boy in your arms who has fallen asleep against your shoulder. 

“That’s fine. If you want you can go lay him down in my bed? So he can take a nap until your babysitter gets to your house,” Calum tells you softly. 

“Yeah,” you nod. “That would be good.” you tell him, smiling up at him gently. 

You all head inside, Elijah on your hip sleeping soundly against your shoulder as Calum leads you down the hall just off the kitchen and to the last door on the right. It was nothing like you’d picture his room to be. 

The  walls are white, and there’s a tv hanging on the gray accent wall in front of the bed. The bed is made with the white fluffy comforter folded where it meets the firm, white pillows at the top of the bed. The floor is clear, save a few cords to the tall lamp in the corner of the room and a charger. 

“Bathroom’s through there,” he tells you pointing to the open door next to the tv. 

“Thank you, Cal,” you tell him sincerely. Thankful for him offering to let E nap in his room. 

“Yeah, of course y/n. Make yourself at home,” he smiles before leaving you and walking back to the living room. 

You unwrap the towel from around Elijah, laying it out on the bed before placing your sleeping boy down gently. You change him into his regular diaper, causing him to whine and thrash around before you change him into a pair of navy blue cotton shorts and  a plain white shirt . He quiets down, falling back to sleep as you move him up to the pillows, forming a sort of wall around him with a pillow on both sides of his body before you gently place a kiss to his forehead. 

Picking up the diaper bag you walk into the bathroom, which is just as clean as the bedroom, to change yourself. 

You untie your bikini top and reach into the bag, only to find a swim diaper and the sunblock. You swore quietly, thinking back to when you packed the bag and realizing you didn’t pack a pair of extra clothes for yourself. 

Quickly you put your top and your white cover up back on, swearing at yourself in your head for forgetting clothes before walking out of the bathroom quietly so you didn’t wake Elijah up. 

You padded down the hallway and into the kitchen where Cal was sitting at the counter as Ashton rummaged through the fridge talking about a song he started writing. 

Calum looks up when you appear in the kitchen doorway, his eyes flickering over your body as his brows furrow, “You didn’t change?” he points out more than asks. 

You nod, biting your lip as your cheeks blush. “Uh, yeah. I forgot to pack any clothes for myself,” you tell him, smiling shyly, “But i’m ok in this,” you assure him. 

“Are you sure?” he asks, concerned. “I can watch Elijah while you go home to change-” he pauses, “or actually I think Mali might have left some clothes behind when she was here last.” he tells you, hopping off his stool and walking down the hall again. 

Mali? Is that his girlfriend? 

Your stomach fills with dread. Just when you thought you finally met someone that didn’t run at the mention of your son, he probably has a girlfriend. Just look at him, of course he has a girlfriend. 

“She’s always buying way too many new clothes while she’s here, she can’t fit them all back into her suitcase when she needs to leave,” he tells you chuckling as he holds out a pair of grey sweat pants and a green hoodie. 

You hesitate a second, not really wanting to wear his girlfriend's clothes. But the chill in his house is causing goosebumps to appear on your arms. “Thank you,” you say, taking them from his hands and walking back down the hall to change rooms and check on Elijah. 

----- 

“No,” Luke sighs, shaking his head.

“Yeah,” you nod, your mood a stark difference from what it was an hour ago. “He came home one day and said ‘I found someone else, I don’t love you and I'm leaving’ he didn’t even mention Elijah. Just packed up all of his shit while I sat on the couch crying trying to wrap my head around what was happening.” 

“From the moment I found out I was pregnant it felt like he was on a different planet. We didn’t match anymore, we didn’t have that spark. If I'm being honest with myself that spark died out a long time ago, I just didn’t want to admit it. He was obviously not excited about the pregnancy- and I wasn't either at first, but when I heard E’s heartbeat for the first time-” you pause, “I can’t even describe it. It was like all my motherly instincts clicked in and I loved him more than I could ever have imagined,” you sigh, smiling at the memory of  the day you heard Elijah’s heartbeat. 

“I kept telling myself that Easton would come around once Elijah got here. It never really happened though. We were both in our twenties, he wanted to party, and drink and just have fun, and he did, and I stayed home with a screaming newborn while he was out living it up.” shrugging you looked up at all of them, smiling softly. 

When you came out from changing into the clothes Calum lent you, all the guys were in the kitchen talking. Luke brought Chinese and you all just sat around talking for hours. You learned a lot of eye opening things. Elijah went home about an hour after they all got there, Jessie coming over to grab him before going back over to your house.  

They formed their band when they were still in highschool, which was crazy to you. How they were still friends amazed you; you had lost contact with all your highschool friends when you moved to LA. 

Ashton was the oldest out of all of them. Mikey told the story of how he messaged Ashton on facebook messaged Ashton asking if he wanted to join the band. You laughed so hard at how the story was told, it was like one of those boards with all the strings connecting different things that all come to one big conclusion. They were all over the place. 

Then it was Mikey and Calum in the middle and Luke was the baby. They were all amazing, genuine guys and you couldn’t have been happier to call them your friends. 

You somehow had gotten on the topic of siblings at one point. Mikey doesn’t have any, but he was chessy when he said, “yeah but I have these guys as my brothers,” all the guys ahh’d and called him out on being cheesy but you could tell they were family. 

Ashton talked more about his sister and brother, telling you about how his dad walked out on him and then his mom met his stepdad and they had Lauren and Harry before he eventually walked out too. Your heart hurt for him, because you knew just how that felt. 

Luke has two brothers, Jack and Ben. You smiled and laughed as he told stories of his childhood and how he and all the guys got up too. 

You told them all about your brother, Jaxon. How he was back home in Nashville playing baseball and how he dreamed of going pro.  

Calum talked about his sister, how she visits every once and a while when she’s not in the studio or writing her own music. 

“Yeah, Mali lives in London so I don’t get to see her much. We talk at least twice a week just to catch up. She’s supposed to visit in a few months so you’ll get to meet her soon,” he smiles over at you. 

Mali is his sister? Well, that makes a whole lot of sense. 

“That’s great, I can’t wait to meet her!” you tell him, smiling over at him happily. 

You all talked for another hour or so, laughing and telling stories before you decided it was time to go. You said bye to everyone, hugging them and telling them you’d see them on friday when you and Alec met them at the studio after lunch. 

Calum politely walked you home just to be safe. 

“I had a great day, thank you for inviting us over. I know Elijah had a blast,” you tell him, smiling softly up at him. “You were so great with him, he’s normally pretty shy around new people.” 

“I did too, we’ll have to do it again.” he tells you. “He’s a great kid, he’s so adorable,” he tells you, smiling. 

“Definitely,” you nod up at him.

There was that awkward silence where you both just looked at each other, your eyes flicking between his as his eyes flicked over your face and fell to your plump lips. Your breath hitched as his eyes linger there before returning to your eyes. 

“Goodnight, Y/n,” he whispers, pulling you into a tight hug.

You relax in his arms, hugging him back as your face hides in his neck. “Goodnight, Cal” you whisper back lingering in the hug before he kisses the top of your head and lets go. 

“I’ll see you Friday,” he calls, descending the three steps of your  porch. 

“See you friday!” you call back before walking into your house. Your back pressing to the back of your front door as you let out a sigh, closing your eyes. 

“Oh my god! That was Calum Hood!,” you hear excitedly from your couch making your eyes pop wide open.

---

Taglist (striked out couldn’t be tagged - get added here -) @wontlastimokwiththat @doctcr-reid @harrystylesandharrypotter @vividstyles23 @thesadstoryofme @hufflepuffhaze @kuolonsyoja​ @lonelyheart5​ @kyleeisahotmess @wiiildflowerrr 

[fancoloredglasses]

[RERUN] Secret Origins of the Superfriends (Fun with Paradoxes)

[All images are owned by DC Comics and Hannah-Barbara. I hope I’m too small-fry to sue...]

After Crisis on Infinite Earths, DC decided they needed a platform to showcase all the (remaining) heroes in their universe (especially since they rewrote their history, deleted a number of Golden Age heroes since they were more or less the same in the modern age (such as the Golden Age Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, and Green Arrow), and inserted heroes from other universes into the current one (such as Captain Marvel, Blue Beetle, and the Freedom Fighters (sorry Captain Carrot)), so they created a series called Secret Origins (as well as another stripped down series called Who’s Who, but we’re not discussing that here)

Which brings us to this RERUN. years before Crisis, we had a little episode of Challenge of the Superfriends that, for the first time in the series, explored the humble beginnings of some of their more powerful (for Superfriends, anyway) heroes.

If you would like to see the original review, you may do so here.

Time travel is a VERY slippery slope. Doing so can change the past to alter the future (like Back to the Future), can cause alternate timelines that branch off from your own (such as the JJ Abrams Star Trek films), or can be “destiny” for your timeline (Such as what happened to Jeffery Sinclair/”Valen” and Babylon 4 in Babylon 5)

As long as the rules of time travel aren’t altered within the context (How did old Biff return to 2015-prime after altering his past?), people are generally OK with whatever BS a franchise comes up with to explain how time travel functions.

Then there’s this mess. Watching the Legion of Doom commit atrocities to continuity is enough to make anyone’s head hurt.

If you would like to see the episode, it’s available on Amazon Prime once you pass the paywall.

Lex Luthor unveils his latest scheme to (say it with me) “destroy the Superfriends once and for all!”: going back in time to remove...

...Superman...

...Wonder Woman...

...and Green Lantern from existence.

OK, I’m just gonna stop right there and point out the obvious: Bizarro is an imperfect clone of Superman and therefore needs Superman for himself to exist, and Lex Luthor became a super villain because of Superman. How the HELL does he manage to counter history erasing himself and Bizarro? Good question…one that is never even addressed!

Anyway, back to our paradox…Luthor has learned the secret origins of these three heroes (shouldn’t Sinestro already know Green Lantern’s? I mean, he used to be a Green Lantern before Hal Jordan exposed him as a tyrant. You mean he never told anyone before this?) and intends on making sure these origins never happen by going back in time and interrupting their origin stories.

At Themyscira Paradise Island, Cheetah disguises herself as an Amazon (you’d think Hippolyta would recognize all the Amazons…I mean they’ve lived for 3,000 years so they should know each other fairly well…but then she didn’t recognize her own daughter behind a mask, so…) and cheats (Cheetah cheats? I swear, sometimes these jokes write themselves!) to win the tournament that would have sent Diana to the World of Man to become...

...Wonder Woman.

In the present, Wonder Woman (in the Invisible Jet) and Batman & Robin (in the Batplane) put out a raging forest fire, but as the three celebrate a Job Well Done...

...she vanishes and Batman and Robin congratulate each other on a Job Well Done (without help from any of the other Superfriends), their memories of Wonder Woman removed.

Next up is Green Lantern. Just as Abin Sur’s ring is about to transport Hal Jordan’s flight simulator to him, Luthor shows up and urges Jordan to evacuate, taking his place in the simulator as it is carried away. (wait, it homed in on the simulator, not Jordan? Does that mean the simulator should have become Green Lantern?) Abin Sur gives the ring to Lex, making him…

...The Green Luthor! “Evil and injustice will never be the same! MUHAHAHA!”

Meanwhile in the present Hawkman, Black Vulcan, and Green Lantern are making repairs to the Justice League (shouldn’t that be “Superfriends”?) satellite. They congratulate each other on a Job Well Done when...

...Green Lantern vanishes and Black Vulcan tells Hawkman the two of them should be heading back, their memories of Green Lantern erased.

Finally, on to Superman. The Hall of Doom fires a beam that diverts young Kal-El’s rocket to a planet with a red sun so he won’t have any powers (why not destroy the rocket? Don’t tell me Green Luthor now has a code against murder)

Back in the present, it’s Superman Day in Metropolis as the Man of Steel poses in a parade in his honor with Hawkman when...

...Superman vanishes and the parade for Hawkman Day continues on.

Returning to the present, the Hall of Doom appears over the Hall of Justice and immediately ensnares the Superfriends in a tractor beam. (you’d think they’d have defenses against that sort of thing…) Luthor announces he has a gun that can mind control them to destroy one another (you’d think he could have just used that on Superman and Wonder Woman then  sicced them on everyone else)...

...but imprisons the Flash, Batman, Robin, and Black Vulcan for later (you know, it’s that kind of crap that defeats them every time. You’d think they’d learn…)

As Aquaman, Hawkman, Apache Chief, and Samurai fight to the death...

...the Flash vibrates through the wall of his cell (you would think Captain Cold would have installed some device to counter that. I swear, it’s not the Superfriends that defeat the Legion of Doom, it’s laziness!) and frees the others. Rather than rushing to free the others before they kill each other, they poke around the Hall of Doom’s computer (no password? I mean, I know this is the 70s but even then people knew about stealing data! Hell, Luthor and Brainiac probably do it all the time when they’re bored!)...

...and discover the secret plot to erase three people no one in the room had ever heard of from history (wouldn’t erasing them from history erase them from the computer’s memory as well?) They take the cartridge containing the plot (convenient!) and escape. Let’s hope Aquaman, Apache Chief, Samurai, and Hawkman can survive long enough for these guys to remember they’re in danger.

At the Hall of Justice, the Justice League (ARGH! Make up your damn minds, writers!) computer realizes there are holes in its memory files large enough to fit three Superfriends (again, that shouldn’t be the case! History should have filled those holes) The four decide to go back in time and reverse the damage.

They go back in time in their various ways (OK, stop! Luthor and Brainiac could have used their genius to make a time machine...

Flash has the ability to travel fast enough to break the time barrier to reach Themyscira Paradise Island...

Black Vulcan is unique to Superfriends, so the full extent of his powers are unknown…so sure, we’ll say time travel is theoretically possible for him so he can save Green Lantern...

...but are you telling me Wayne Enterprises has developed a Bat Flux Capacitor AND a Bat-warp drive for the Batplane so they can reach Krypton?! Bullshit!)...

...and undo the damage done (so? The Legion has a goddamn time machine! Why not go back and murder them all as babies?! Plus now the Legion knows GL’s identity, so the can just kill him in his sleep!)

Back in the present, Superman, Wonder Woman, and GL reappear (so how do they account for being missing for the past 15 minutes?) and they finally realize there are 4 other Superfriends that have probably pounded each other into goo by now.

Somehow, despite the fact that they were present to witness their plans failing, the Legion are surprised to see 3 more Superfriends than there should be (and surprisingly even Aquaman is still alive, despite having no fish to ask for help!) and are handily defeated...

...but Luthor already had an escape plan ready as the episode ends.

OK, after trying to wrap my head around so many holes in the way time travel works in this episode, I need to go down an entire bottle of painkillers and a tequila-meister.

[calpops]

honeymoon | c.h.

Your honeymoon with Calum is two weeks of bliss, snow, and going home. 

1k words 

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included). 

<< >>

Calum’s hand takes yours and you feel the coolness of his wedding band, it sends shivers up your spine and contentment through your heart. His grip is loose and he swings your arms back and forth as you walk through the airport with luggage toted behind you. You’re not sure how he had managed to keep your honeymoon destination a secret until landing but he did it and surprise hits you when snow whirls outside the windows. The location and its climate explains the long pants and sweaters he had packed in your suitcase but not the bathing suit, shorts and sun hats. You ask about them but all he does is shrug and smirk and tell you to wait and see. Calum has everything arranged—the ride from the airport to a small cabin situated in the mountains, the cabin warm and spread with your favorite flowers. Your luggage gets abandoned as Calum decides scooping you up and carrying you over the threshold is more important.

He sets you down in the small living area where a fireplace stacked with logs greets you. Though the cabin is warm a chill runs through from the open door and you shiver, but it doesn’t last long as Calum wraps his arms around you, dips down to kiss your cheek and brush hair from your face.

“We’re married,” he says, the two words becoming much like a mantra as disbelief still sits with you both. You sway in his arms and blush as you look up at him.

“Everything is perfect,” you praise, hoping he knows you mean everything from the wedding to the cabin you stand in now. To him. “But we should probably shut the door.”

Calum laughs as a blow of chilly air comes in through the open door. Your luggage still sits on the small front porch. You both go out to bring it in and shut the door so the warmth can stay with you and the cold can stay outside. Large snowflakes fall from the sky and add to the blanket of white claiming the ground. You’ve travelled with Calum before, usually going to warmer places with beaches and sunsets. The contrast is stark and white and the sights of the mountain and snow that dazzles from sunlight are beautiful. You’d go anywhere in the world with Calum. He starts a fire and turns back to look at you as flames flicker to life. He glows golden from the light and you pat the couch cushion beside the one you’ve settled on.

The night previous was long and filled with excited bliss and lovemaking. You’d talked of starting a family, not wanting to wait any longer, and then set out to try and achieve it. You stayed up until the sun claimed the sky and then raced to the airport to make it to snowy hills. Exhaustion hangs thick and weary in the air, content sighs follow as Calum settles next to you and doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms.

“You like it?” Calum asks, eyes darting around the charming cabin.

You nod as a realization strikes you. “It’s very private.”

All you could ever want for a honeymoon is time with Calum. Uninterrupted. Just you and him and the warmth of being with each other.

“Good, we have an entire week here,” he says.

“I thought we had two weeks?” You ask, knowing he had said two weeks for the honeymoon.

“One week here,” he responds and noses at your cheek before giving you a kiss. “Next week is another surprise.”

You smile and find yourself spending the week between soft sheets, keeping each other warm, in the hot tub on the back deck, out on the mountain with cold noses that rub together and trying to start a family, all while dreaming of your hopes. Most nights bring candlelight and soft music. After days of roaming the mountain and spending time in the snow you’re both content to head for the bedroom where a king sized mattress bids you well. You pull him into bed, his lips roaming your skin, whispered words of want slipping from his lips, your body reacting to the desires between you both. He mumbles words of praise and compliments that make you shiver. You respond in kind, his name a song on from your lips as you sigh. You know each other and all of the things that drive the other wild. His hands roam and wander and his lips leave marks where you like them best. Highs are reached and come down into soft holds and small kisses peppering each other’s faces. More desires are traded as nights drag along. Talk of a family claims your discussions.

Time slips by in bliss and one week seems too short. Your goodbyes to the mountain are filled with sorrow. You don’t think that anywhere could ever get better but you’re willing to find out so long as it’s with Calum. He makes you close your eyes through the airport, his hand leading you and headphones claiming your ears so announcements won’t spoil the surprise. You’re not sure where you are when you land, nothing about the airport is of note, nothing about the view gives anything away but when Calum tells you there’s another flight in store you have an inkling of where you’re headed, the time and preparation for the sun clueing you in.

Another flight slips past though it’s long, you sleep against Calum and wake to his grin and a summer sky greeting you. He’s brought you home to Australia where summer is warm and those shorts and sun hats in your suitcase will be put to good use. You end up in a hotel near the beach, spend your time under the sun, trading kisses and bliss in the sand, in the hotel bed and shower and seemingly never take your hands off of each other. You both find new habits of twisting your wedding rings, holding each other’s hands and staring at the bands in wonder and awe as you dream about the family you want. It’s a subject that comes up when you go to visit Calum’s parents during a day you’re able to drag yourselves away from the beach and the bed and each other; somewhat, he still holds your hand and kisses your cheeks and keeps you close. They broach the topic and where Calum would have hesitated before, uncertain eyes flickering to you and then away, he answers right away, a sureness capturing his voice.

“We want at least two kids,” he tells his mum one afternoon you’ve taken her to lunch. “Sooner rather than later.”

You watch as his mom lights up and coos about grandbabies. When lunch is over and you find yourselves alone again, laid on the beach with the sun in your eyes and the crash of waves on the shore you turn to Calum.

“I love your family,” you say, starry eyed at the prospect of being parents like his—loving and caring and always there.

“They’re your family too,” Calum says softly and brushes your cheek with his thumb.

You smile and nod, knowing that’s true.

“Maybe we’ll have a start to ours when we get home,” Calum says with longing in his voice and softness in his eyes. “I can’t wait to be a parent with you.”

You can’t either. You’re not sure what will happen when you get home. If his words will come to life or if more time will be needed but you know you’ll be together through it all.

<< >>

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[writeblrfantasy]

i am thrilled to present to you another short from acogs: khyris mi'hail, or khyris the beloved in my conlang!

i'm especially happy with this one, but i say that about all of them, don't I? this one is inspired by the story behind the hanging gardens of babylon, how the king had them built for his homesick wife.

like most of my shorts, you don't need to know acogs to understand this <3 enjoy!! word count about 5k

~

“Everybody wake up, c’mon, everybody up!” The sound of pans banging together accompanies Major Malika’s shouts.

Khyris has been awake for an hour already, but he still groans at the thought of leaving his warm cot. The other corporals in the tent with him grumble and swear at the major with more colorful language than Khyris would dare risk.

Khyris sticks his head out of his blankets, bracing against the freezing winter air and squinting into the bright morning light of the tent. A few bastards who wake with the sun are sitting on the floor drinking coffee, the smell of which finally draws Khyris out of his warm cave.

“We were afraid you were dead,” says Eric, mumbling like he’s half dead himself. “You don’t move at all.”

“Nice to know you’re watching me sleep,” Khyris retorts, pulling on his three extra layers to fight back the biting chill. “Give me some of that.” Coffee in his system makes him feel a little more human, enough to make him realize there’s a group huddled around the morning campfire just outside.

Khyris joins them, coffee in hand, and finds them all staring at a map. “What’s going on?”

“Big news today,” Aeron says, grinning, full of energy no matter the time. “The queen’s visiting.”

Khyris almost spills his coffee. “What? Why? That man couldn’t lift a sword to save his life, what does he want with us?”

“Stow your hatred for a moment, my dear Khyris. He’s here to pick a spouse.”

Khyris stares, then laughs. “For a moment I thought you were serious.”

The other’s smiles slowly fade. Delia stares into her coffee like it holds the answers of the world—or more accurately, an escape from Khyris.

“You are serious. Sweet Cai.” Khyris buries his head in his hands. “Explain.”

“He’s here exactly because he can’t lift a sword to save his life. He wants someone who can. Solid strategy, I think.”

Khyris shakes his head. “He has hundreds of willing options back at court, the experienced soldiers paid too well to be out on the field. Why doesn’t he pick from them and leave us alone?”

“He doesn’t want a lazy court soldier. He wants a fieldman. Someone he knows he can trust with his life.”

“So he wants a bodyguard for a spouse, is what you’re saying. I thought he already had a team of those.” Khyris looks around. “Do you think Major Malika would notice if I disappeared for a week or two? Tell her I was indisposed. I was longing for home. Let me be a deserter, anything but having to see that bastard’s face.”

“Why are you so against him?” Aeron asks.

“Because he doesn’t give a damn about any of us. He just throws money at us, gives us more orders to build more cities, and every year checks in to see how we’re doing. He’d rather entertain the fools and artists of his court than pay mind to us.”

“So you don’t want to see him, but you’re mad he hasn’t come yet? Make up your mind, man!”

Khyris sighs. “I just don’t think you all should be kissing his ass, is all. He should be appreciating what we do for him. We just finished building him al-Hasa, he should be grateful.”

“We’re not kissing—” Aeron breaks off into a devious grin Khyris has seen before, and it’s never ended anywhere good. “You like him, and you’re mad he doesn’t like you back?”

Whistles and laughter go around the fire. “What?” Khyris sputters. “This is the queen we’re talking about, not some barmaid. You lot are ridiculous.”

Apparently happy with being labeled ridiculous, what Khyris thought were friends begin singing, “Khyris the Angrily Smitten” in an off key parody of a song he can’t remember.

“You sound like you’re drunk and it’s only sunrise,” he says in disgust, burying himself in coffee, his only friend this morning.

Later that day, he’s in the middle of a group training session and managed to forget about the queen’s newest joke. The stress of the major’s shouts during exercises in the middle of winter doesn’t leave much room for Khyris to think about anything else, though Aeron finds a way around it as always. Aeron’s only here to support his family’s farm—cooperation doesn’t matter much to him as long as he still gets paid.

In the middle of another round of hot yet cold push-ups, Major Malika calls for a sudden stop. “His Majesty is here,” she snaps. “I want to see some salutes, hear some respect. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Major,” they chorus, lining up to watch His Majesty Amoun’s brown and gold carriage pull up to the campsite. Khyris’ left hand goes to the side of his head like all the others, trying to keep his eyes in line as the carriage stops in a cloud of dust. The door opens with a click, and out steps a shadow cloaked in black, unusual for Kadar. Khyris’ eyes drift despite himself.

Khyris forgot how young the queen is, and how attractive, despite his own dissenting opinions. A dark, neat sheaf of hair and mustache frame a smiling face. His long winter cloak shows hints of Kadar yellow in ribbons and pins, but otherwise everything from the fur to his shoes is black.

“Welcome, Your Majesty,” Malika says with a deep bow.

“Thank you, Major. I’m delighted to be here.” Queen Amoun approaches the line of soldiers with his coat sweeping out behind him, just short enough not to get dirty on the sand. The soldiers drop their salutes as Amoun slowly walks in front of them like he’s inspecting them. Khyris fights not to close his eyes and disappear into a safer, less ridiculous world. He has many choice words for the queen, but keeps them all wisely to himself.

Amount is just passing Aeron and Delia, about to pass a stiff Khyris, when he stops and looks him up and down. “What’s your name?” Amoun asks.

Khyris swallows, cursing Cai in every way. He can feel Aeron’s traitorous, poorly smothered grin on his profile. “Khyris, Your Majesty.”

“Khyris,” Amoun repeats, slowly, like the sly tongue of a snake. He grins. “What a beautiful name.”

What to say to that?

Amoun solves the problem for him. “I look forward to seeing your face during my trials, Khyris.”

Khyris’ mind races, thinking of the Cairic Trials of Taru. They are Kadars, dammit, not Cairic. But, if the queen wanted to find a spouse who could defend him, there is not a much better way than that. “Trials, Your Majesty?”

Amoun laughs, a gentle, warm sound. “Wipe that fear off your face. I am not referring to the Trials of Taru, as thrilling and testing as they are. The trials I have created are much simpler, and will be much more to your taste, if that quiver on your back means anything.” He takes a step back so more soldiers can hear him.

“I wish we had a forest to do this, but alas, we are not in the north or in Tel Cairis. As you can see, there are three targets there.” Amoun gestures grandly to the three red targets being set up several hundred paces away, in the middle of the desert. “Whoever can perfectly hit the three targets”—he pauses for effect— “will get a private dinner with me.”

Khyris struggles not to laugh.

“The trials begin immediately, for all of you,” Amoun says. “You are soldiers, I’m sure you’re used to quick thinking and quicker requests. Come on, now.”

Khyris shuffles into a single file line with the others, Aeron at his back. “Not a word,” he hisses.

“Not a word,” Aeron echoes, but Khyris can hear his grin. Worst of all, he begins humming that awful song, Khyris the Angrily Smitten. He actively wishes for death even as he’s pulling his bow off his back and nocking an arrow into it.

Fail Amoun’s stupid target challenge. The easiest task in the world. He’ll be officially taken out of consideration, free to go back to the idiots at the campfire in the morning.

His focus drifts in and out while waiting for the other soldiers to shoot, even if they’ve never touched a bow before. Evidently Amoun believes miracles are possible. He seems like the type.

Amoun stands to the side of the line drawn in the sand where the archers must stay and shoot, his presence undoubtedly helping no one. Ever since he was a child, Khyris couldn’t stand people watching him practice or hunt. He savored the quiet of the northern forests where he grew up, savored the peace and focus in his heart while he hunted his family’s dinner. To have anyone else watching him, waiting, judging if he shot wrong, would ruin that sacred peace.

He sighs and shifts his weight impatiently.

“Relax, would you? You’re the best archer here, I have more reason for nerves than you do,” Delia says from somewhere behind him.

“That’s exactly the problem,” Khyris says. “I’m afraid I’ll do well.”

Someone scoffs ahead of him. He doesn’t keep his dislike of the queen private, but the way Amoun looks back toward the sound makes Khyris flush. Please don’t notice me, don’t notice me, look away.

“Then miss and make a fool of yourself,” Delia says. “You’ll be known as the army’s best worst archer, but not the queen’s spouse, a title I wouldn’t mind having. It’ll be a steady source of income for my family, at least.”

Khyris smiles. He and Delia became friends because of their similar situation. Aeron barged his way into their lives with no possibility of leaving. “I’ll be in the front row at your wedding.”

“I’d prefer your blessing on my bow.”

Khyris watches sorry swordsman after swordsman point their bows at the targets only for their arrows to land somewhere far off in another direction. Major Malika barks at them that they’ve failed, which is not an unusual thing for her to say, but they’ve never had to perform in front of the queen before.

People who have never touched a bow in their life still stutter and apologize for wildly missing. That’s the effect the queen’s presence has—not that it affects Khyris, of course. He glances sympathetically at the losers and thinks, I’ll be joining you in a minute.

At last, it’s his turn. Major Malika orders him forward with her usual grit, but Amoun is smiling with his big brown eyes and it’s every bit as unnerving as Khyris predicted.

“Let’s see what you got,” he says quietly, where only Khyris can hear. Khyris grits his teeth, mentally ordering him to shut up and let him focus.

Why is he trying?

Because it’d kill him to miss, he decides. He hasn’t missed since he was eleven, and he won’t start now. He has too much pride in his finest skill to be a laughingstock. Major Malika would know he wasn’t trying and would make him try again. He’s too good an archer for his own good.

He closes his eyes, trying to ignore Amoun’s presence, and lets the bow do the work.

The first arrow hits. He doesn’t stop to check. His focus is on the second target, and a minute shift of his position readies him for the next shot. Khyris disregards all other sound but the grip of his fingers adjusting on the bow, the whoosh as the arrow flies free. He can’t quite block out the gasp Amoun makes, but shaking it off is easy.

The wind begins picking up just slightly, hardly noticeable to anyone else, but Khyris knows the song of the bow like his own skin, and it’s not what he needs.

You’ve done well, says the voice in his head. No one will believe you purposefully failed if you miss. You will be free, and your dignity will be intact.

The other archers shot in quick succession, too eager or humiliated to wait. Khyris knows he’s already taken longer than anyone else, but he waits another few seconds before nocking another arrow and letting it fly.

Khyris opens his eyes to find his arrows in the center of all three red targets. He sighs in relief.

Relief for what?

All is deadly quiet, and then some idiot begins cheering. Khyris shuts his eyes again.

Aeron. Of course it’s Aeron.

Soon, everyone is cheering or clapping, Amoun loudest of all. Khyris flushes hot, looking around for him, who’s grinning like someone just handed him all the wealth of Kadar.

Khyris goes over to him and wraps him a hug, drawing laughter and ‘aw’s from the onlookers. It’s just an excuse to whisper, “I hate you to the skin of your bones,” in Aeron’s ear, who just laughs louder.

#

Khyris stands in front of a little pond where some fool spilled water outside Amoun’s tent, turning left and right to inspect his outfit. It’s the only fine thing he has, provided by the army, meant for rare banquets at the palace.

It’s a velvet jacket in Kadar yellow decorated with the few gold medals he has to his name, one for exceptional scouting, another for bringing down the largest hog anyone had ever seen, large enough to feed the whole camp for an evening.

The yellow tent flap opens and Khyris quickly snaps to a stiff position, relaxing when Amoun gestures for him to. “Khyris,” he says with a warm smile. “Thank you for joining me.”

You didn’t leave me much of a choice, Khyris thinks, though even he’s not bold enough to say that to the queen’s face. He’s wearing a thin golden circlet with soft brown gems embedded, the crown of Kadar. Khyris has never been close enough to see it; it sparkles in the evening sunlight.

He’s never been close enough to see the queen’s face like this—the kindness deep within earthy eyes, his short, well-trimmed beard and mustache, the single lock of black hair hanging down on his forehead. His black cloak doesn’t have a smattering of dust, and the long fur hairs poking out of the collar make Khyris ache for the crude fur coat he made himself the last time he was home—these velvet jackets don’t do much in the way of warmth.

Amoun even smells like the forests of the north, Khyris’ home, with a hint of soft incense.

“Please, come in.” Amoun steps aside to let Khyris slip past him. He takes a quick look around. Amoun’s tent is nicer than any camp tent he’s ever been in, a colorful carpet covering the sand, a table of golden wood with two chairs set up in the middle, a white curtain hiding what’s presumably a bed in the corner. Even the lanterns, burning with blessed warmth, are polished and new compared to the grimy ones in the tent Khyris shares with five others.

“Sit,” Amoun says softly, latching the tent flap closed to keep out the abhorrent wind. Khyris sits, happy to be out of the cold with a plate of hot food in front of him, if nothing else. The faster he can fail this and get it over with, the better.

Amoun sits opposite him and unclasps his cloak, revealing a finely woven black waistcoat over a long sleeved yellow shirt.

“Ah, so His Majesty is capable of wearing color,” Khyris says before he can think about it. He refuses to go back on it, even as Amoun looks at him in surprise. Khyris won’t be the timid little soldier afraid to even look at his queen. He respects himself more than that.

“I admit my dress is rather unconventional for Kadar,” Amoun says, slipping into a relieving smile. He picks up a white teapot and pours them both steaming cups. From the smell, it’s coffee—in the evening? Another oddity. “It’s one of many reasons for people to distrust me—or worse, dislike me.” He smiles again over the rim of his cup.

Khyris is holding his for warmth until he remembers that he’s not in the tent waking up to Aeron jabbering in his ear, he has manners. He quickly puts it back on the table. All the manners he learned from his father and his one visit to court suddenly leave him. Hopefully his country boy ignorance doesn’t show too much.

No, he wants it to show, doesn’t he? He wants Amoun to be disgusted with his choice and let him go.

Khyris grips the handle of the coffee cup again but after a few seconds of indecision, leaves it on the table.

“I do hope you’ll enjoy this meal,” Amoun says, oblivious to Khyris’ inner turmoil and the fact that this is the best meal Khyris will ever have in the field in the middle of winter. “Have you ever been to a palace banquet? Forgive me for not remembering your face—you all look the same in those jackets.” He shovels a forkful of something into his mouth—wait, what are they eating?

Khyris gathers himself and picks up his knife, reminding himself to breathe. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he says after what’s probably too long of a pause. “I have been to a palace banquet once, shortly after I joined your army.” He focuses on cutting what he now discerns to be lamb, a delicacy they don’t get out here at the building sites, laying on a bed but of golden rice. It’s hot and warms him to the bone, but it’s not as spicy as the kind his father used to make.

Amoun laughs, speaking with a full mouth. “Let’s not pretend it’s my army. Cai knows I don’t pay enough attention to it. Oh, forgive me”—he smiles sheepishly— “when I’m alone with someone, especially here instead of the palace, I forget my manners. My upbringing is coming back to haunt me. Perhaps that’s another reason people detest me.”

Khyris pauses. Suddenly the food is vastly less interesting than Amoun. “You grew up humble, Majesty?”

“Please, call me Amoun. I am here to court you.”

The reminder makes Khyris bring his eyes back to his plate. Make him throw you out.

“Yes,” Amoun continues, “I came from the forests of the north. My parents were well off, and I have no siblings, but it was not a glamorous childhood by any means. Not compared to what I’m used to now.”

Khyris chews slowly, hyperaware of everything. “I also came from the forests of the north, M—Amoun.”

“Really?” Amoun’s silver clatters against his plate. “I knew I chose well. Where exactly were you raised?”

Khyris tells him about the cabin his mother built, four young siblings and a father too crippled to hunt, a mother too overworked to cook, the privilege Khyris considered hunting.

He loses track of time as Amoun talks about those same forests, hiding from great imaginary beasts that were only the howls of the wind in the trees as a child, the warmth of the curry Amoun’s mother made—the same one Khyris’ mother made for his birthday.

Khyris has never met someone who grew up in the north forests before, and he soon finds he can’t keep the smile off his face.

Before Khyris knows it, they’ve both finished their meals and wine has replaced the coffee. No attendants come in to bring them dessert, Amoun only gets up and accepts plates from them through the tent flap.

Khyris doesn’t have to leave his chair the whole time—he feels like the queen here, dipping a spoon into the bowl of warmth honey cake soaked through with cream. Amoun asks him about his friends, his family, laughs at every story of his siblings, goes somber when Khyris tells him why he joined the army.

Amoun makes him feel like everything he has to say is worth something to him, that his nods aren’t the polite, diplomatic ones he’s no doubt used to putting on. Khyris is only too happy to return the favor and admire the reflection of the lamplight in Amoun’s eyes.

And then it’s ending. The wine has faded from Khyris’ system, and the warmth of Amoun’s hand as he helps Khyris to his feet is bittersweet. He doesn’t know when he stopped trying to make Amoun dislike him, if he was ever trying at all, but now he’s foolishly praying that Amoun will ask him back.

“Thank you for such a wonderful evening, Khyris,” Amoun says, smiling like the witches of legend are said to do—so strong, so beautiful, they make it impossible to look away. Khyris’ limbs seem to draw closer of their own accord before he realizes and quickly puts distance between them.

“Thank you,” Khyris says, a shadow clouding over his heart as he turns toward the tent flap that Amoun holds open.

“Would you like to go out with me again?” Amoun asks as Khyris is about to leave. He stares in hopeful disbelief. “It’s perfectly alright if you don’t. I would never force you into anything you would not want—I have heard the stories your companions tell. Khyris the Angrily Smitten.” Amoun’s lips curve into a smile with an unescapable hint of pain. “I think the angry part is more prevalent. You are one of the ones who would detest me at court.”

Khyris is again mad at Aeron, for an entirely different reason. Has this whole magical evening gone to shit?

“Majesty—Amoun”—he takes a deep breath— “I—I was wrong about you. I would like to go out with you again. It is possible for minds to change.” He laces his own fingers behind his back, arms held taught in the stiff jacket.

Amoun’s answering grin is brighter than the sun.

#

Amoun has to go back to Ramia, of course, and Khyris back to the city building corporal’s lifestyle, but they spend every chance they could get together, alone, in a welcome relief from life for both of them. Aeron and Delia have been nothing but evil about it, but it’s no less than Khyris would expect.

His and Amoun’s second outing comes mere weeks after their first, when Khyris thought he might go mad from anticipation. Would their next meeting be just as perfect as their first? He frets, despite Aeron’s relentless teasing about the fact that so recently, he’d despise himself for fretting about this.

He made the mistake of addressing the queen as Amoun in Delia and Aeron’s presence. At the risk of his own sanity, he’s been careful to censor himself since, though Aeron probably sees right through it.

Their second date is every bit as good as the first and more. Amoun invites Khyris to the camp where he’s staying, visiting another battalion of soldiers in the north. Khyris was happy to go just to escape Aeron’s teasing, but the smile Amoun gives him upon arrival did things to him he didn’t know were possible. After a few days together and the blistering kiss Amoun gives him when they part, Khyris knows his mind is made up.

It should not come as a surprise when Amoun proposes only a few months later. The whole purpose of Amoun’s visit, after all, was to find a spouse to court.

He’s not just falling for the queen of Kadar for all the perks of being his lover. when Amoun first announced this challenge, Khyris thought the steady income for his family would be the only reason he’d ever agree if miraculously chosen.

As soppy and awful as it sounds, as much as he’s becoming the very lovestruck fool he loved to hate, he enjoys Amoun for him, not for his money or his power or his safety. His company. His smile. His mix of ease and nerves, how he both seems to know exactly what he’s doing and has no clue at all.

Now, he’s in Ramia again for the first time in four years in the part of it he never thought he’d get to visit in his lifetime: the queen’s private palace apartments. Amoun is looking at him the warmth of the sun in those eyes and asking if Khyris will be his forever. What can Khyris say but yes?

Khyris might hang around court more often than he ever thought he would, but he still can’t bear to leave the army. He sees past the humor in Aeron’s voice when he asks, “Don’t forget about your fellow corporals when you’re the queen’s husband, alright?” Khyris spends half of the days leading up to wedding with the soldiers, working hard and crashing harder just like he did before, and the other half in some kind of paradise of luxury with Amoun.

He invites Aeron and Delia to the palace when he visits—he’s learned, as the queen’s betrothed, there’s little he can’t get away with, including sudden leave for any soldier he likes. Seeing the raw awe on Aeron’s face makes his own adjustment a little easier to bear.

He and Amoun decline to get tattoos of betrothal—that’s a Cairic tradition at heart, and the queen of Kadar couldn’t be seen with that, especially since they’re trying to move away from Tel Cairis’ traditions.

Being suddenly waited on and served food even better than the stuff in Amoun’s tent on their first date is nice, but jarring. He’s so used to the humble life, getting everything himself, being independent. The army only enforced that, even when he gained friends.

Now the clothes he wears puts his yellow dinner jacket to shame, and every bit of building has been made by hundreds of men compared to a few. He can only wonder how Amoun adjusted.

Amoun is a sweetheart, empathetic and sensitive. Unfortunately, this means Khyris can’t keep a secret around him, and he quickly notices Khyris’ discomfort.

“Mi’hail, please,” he implores one night, because of course he’d be the type to use old fashioned terms of endearment like that. “Tell me what I can do to make this place feel as much as your home as it is mine. All I desire is to make you happy.”

Khyris sighs, closing his eyes for a moment. His cheek is pillows on the silk nightshirt covering his arm, so light and soft and decadent you can hardly call it a shirt. His feet are made warm by the sheets of Amoun’s bed, the warm orange glow of candlelight turning Amoun’s skin the most beautiful gold.

This is not the first time Amoun has asked, but Khyris always tells him not to bother, he’s busy enough, he’s done enough already. “If we are to be married,” Amoun tries, “it cannot be on unequal footing. I will not have you be a sacrifice to be with me. You grew up with so little—let me repay you now.”

“Oh, and you grew up in luxury?” Khyris counters.

“Stop trying to switch the subject.” Amoun sits up against the cushioned headboard. “Tell me, or I will not leave it alone.”

Khyris knows how capable he is of that. He manages a small smile.

“A garden,” he settles on at last, thinking of the northern forests, how he loved the trees but always wished for a more glamorous, well-tended grove. “Remind me of the north, where we are from. Give me a version of our forests that’s neater, that shows the nicest parts without all the ugly ones.” He sighs, already picturing it, almost able to smell the richness of the tree sap if he concentrates. “With a fountain,” he adds. “Is that too much?”

Amoun’s eyes are shining. “Not at all. I will do it, mi’hail.”

Amoun builds him a garden. He commissions a fountain. He brings the forests of the north to Ramia.

Khyris underestimates him once again.

It takes so long and takes up so much space, Khyris is eventually banned entirely from the west side of the palace in case he catches a glimpse of Amoun’s hard work. All he knows is that Amoun is always beaming and giddy with excitement and anticipation of Khyris’ reaction.

The damn thing takes so long to build, Khyris doesn’t get to see it till three weeks after their wedding, when they get back from their trip alone to the forests of the north.

When everything is finally done to Amoun’s liking, Amoun can’t let go of his hand as he leads him out to see it. He even makes Khyris close his eyes, an incredible trust exercise. When Khyris is allowed to open them, his jaw falls open.

He’d been prepared by the sound of flowing water, but nothing could truly brace him for this. From the top of the steps leading inside where they stand, Khyris can see the whole thing: the fountain of himself holding his bow, quiver at his back, free hand reaching up to fix his hair. “Wh—how did you get a statue of me commissioned without needing me there?”

Amount just grins.

None of the trees are old enough to provide shade yet, but stone beds with soil inside house several young, green trees that will grow up to be the great sprawling ones of the north. The floor is stone, not dirt, and it’s much nicer and cleaner to look at than the leafy forest floor. The smell of the trees is absent, but it’s more than made up for with the greenery tucked into every spot, the rare pops of pink flowers from the east. Everything is well tended and trimmed, from the hedges to the plants to the shape of the trees.

Each layer up to the palace entrance is covered in some of potted plant, and an artificial river runs around every bit of it to feed them, the channel carved into the stone.

Khyris can’t fathom how he imported everything and how it’s stayed so fresh—the wont of a queen, he supposes.

“The gardens of Khyris,” Amoun says quietly at his back, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to pull him closer.

After another minute of silence, he laughs nervously. “Speechless, mi’hail?”

“Uh, yes.” Khyris turns his head to kiss him. “I don’t know how to thank you. it’s absolutely gorgeous. I—seriously, all of this is for me?”

“I would be happy to ban the public if you asked,” Amoun confirms. “Does it take you back to the north forests as it does for me?”

“You know it does. It’s perfect in every way.”

Amoun walks him down the steps to the garden itself, showing him every carefully chosen detail. Khyris is happy to stand with him near the fountain, enough for the sound of the rushing water to lull him into a sense of calm. He wonders how he could’ve ever hated Amoun.

“Khyris the Angrily Smitten, they called you all those months ago,” Amoun murmurs. Khyris’ ears burn hot.

“I find it endearing,” Amoun confesses, “but I know you find it rather—embarrassing. I’d like to call you something else.” His fingers curl around Khyris’ neck, soft and warm. “Khyris mi’hail? Khyris the Beloved?”

Khyris fights the smile threatening to break out and fails. “Better than Khyris the Great, or something awful like that.”

Amoun laughs. “I am great enough for both of us,” he says, and pulls Khyris to the sound of the water mingling with the wind. An earthly heaven without Cai.

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[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 18

Description: Karanduniash.

Notes: BABYLON BABY!! I loved writing this chapter I fucking love Babylon! WC: 6.5k

+

"Pretty... I love you."

From hazy darkness the words echoed, bringing him to consciousness out of a deep, long sleep. The black edges of his vision disappeared with each blink, and he quickly recognized your voice speaking.

I love you?! He thought in a panic.

He bolted to sit up straight, his eyes wide as the moon when you jumped back. As he glanced to you, he found you with Sephys in your lap, your mouth hung open.

"Oh," he finally let out a breath, "sorry. Not sure what just happened."

The light of the sun was peeking over the horizon, silhouetted by the distant mountains and the plains inbetween. Orange, yellow, and a peach red painted the sky, hanging like a silk blanket over your little camp; a spot along the Euphrates that wasn't entirely muddy, where Ahk had the night before hung the tarp to shield you from any of the harsher elements. You had already lit the campfire, and the flames flickered high into the atmosphere.

"Be calm, Aganu," you said with a chuckle. "It is food time!"

"Ahhh yes," he said, grunting as he forced himself to his feet. "Can't wait till we're in Babylon."

"Why is that?" You asked.

"Won't have to hunt for my fuckin' breakfast," he said, and you burst out laughing.

Fish, again. Of course. It was the only assured thing along the river's length, and it was more nutritious than any roots or vegetables you could find in the wild. The first thing Ahkmen had to do in the morning was to take up a poorly-made spear––which was only a comment on his own handiwork, since he'd been the one who made it in the first place––and wade into the cold water, soaking his feet in the soft mud of the riverbed.

He turned back to you in hopes of some comfort, but while your smile was there, it was more teasingly cruel than it was teasingly sweet. He frowned.

"Do we have anything else to eat except fish?"

"Now, we do not have even the fish," you said, gesturing to his empty spear.

His teeth ground together, a low chuckle building in his chest as he tossed the spear aside, splashing into the water. Once you got over your own laughter you noted his intense expression, quickly falling silent. He launched forward onto you, running out of the river and pouncing upon you, trapping you to the ground beneath him as he cackled, attempting to touch your most sensitive place––your neck. You laughed madly as you tried to push his hands away, your legs kicking beneath the weight of his body.

"No! No, stop!" You managed to shout through your laughter.

He grasped both your wrists, pinning your flailing hands to your sides.

"Come fish with me," he said, panting softly. "That way I don't have to do it all the time."

Your expression soured into reluctance, your lips pressed into a thin line as you looked away.

"I do not like making things dead," you said quietly.

"If you can't hunt it, don't eat it," he said as he moved off you, slowly releasing you from a grip that you only now noticed was leaving marks.

"I do not know if that is saying I do not eat fish, or I need to kill fish," you said, sitting up. "And if I do not eat fish, I will be dead of hunger."

"Well –" he blinked rather blankly, "- that phrase doesn't work as well in our situation. My point is it's a good idea to learn how to do it. It is, in a little way, a part of being in this world."

The word 'learn' had you perking up. Even the suggestion of that reaction had Ahk perking up, as well. If there was one thing you shared in common, it was your hunger to learn, which had consequently brought you both on this journey together.

"Okay," you said after a couple minutes, within which Ahk had fetched his spear back from running downstream in the slow current. "I will make the fish dead."

"Good for you," he said with a smile, helping you up with his hand. "Also it's called killing."

"Etuvaka."

You did, as it turned out, have a little bit of food, which you suggested eating after you discovered you needed to fashion your own spear. Ahk shot you a playful glare but said nothing as you split it in half, handing one half to him and nibbling on the other one yourself.

Before you started anything, you needed to get your tools, which could fortunately be found in a relatively close area. Ahkmen helped you to find the right type of stick, one that would be easy to mold and throw. His knife wouldn't do for carving, apparently––the wood would dull it far too much, so instead the two of you looked for a stone, with which you could smooth the stick of any twigs and knots, as well as sharpen the end to a point.

"Be careful when you're holding it," he told you, reaching over to manually shift your fingers. "When you're going down in such a quick motion, it's really easy to catch your fingers against the wood."

You nodded.

By the time you cleaned the handle of the stick free of knots, your remaining bread was gone, your stomachs half-satiated to continue to the sharpening. That passed quickly enough after Ahk physically demonstrated how to do it, and soon you were standing in the Euphrates with your pants rolled way up to your thighs.

"You could've just taken your pants off, you know," he said quietly.

"Ah, 'sut' up," you said. His brow furrowed in confusion but he said nothing.

He taught you a good method of throwing that would prevent cramping up your wrist, should you be repeatedly unsuccessful, which he assured you would happen at one point or another. Your form was fine, but you had issues throwing the stick hard enough, so more often than not, your spear was easily loosed from the rocks and mud to float downstream.

You gasped the first time it happened, running after it, and nearly soaking your whole outfit in the process. Ahk managed to reach over at the right time, grabbing you by the back of your dress to hold you above the muddy water. The spear was in your hand.

"Thanks," you said, your voice strained as he dragged you back over to him, setting you on your feet.

"Of course. Try again."

In a couple more tries, the spear finally stuck, earning you a proud grin from Ahk. Of course, no fish––he couldn't find any either, and he worried the mud you both stirred up had deterred the fish.

Sephys meowed loudly from the shore until you finally caught something––the first out of the both of you. Ahkmen clapped you on the back, congratulating you wholeheartedly as you made your way back onto land. Despite the fact that it wasn't all that big of a fish, Ahk started the fire for you, and set to skinning the fish so you wouldn't have to. A contrast from his excuse to get you to fish with him, but neither of you really noticed.

He let you cook breakfast not of his own accord, but by your suggestion, reminding him he often over and undercooked food at the same time. He did sit by your side though, and offered help whenever he thought you could use it.

"I want to be in Babylon, also," you said, twisting the skewer over the fire.

"And what's your reason?"

"So I do not have to cook your food," you said, grinning as you turned to him. He belted out a laugh.

"Fair enough, darling," he said as he leant back.

You giggled sheepishly at his reply, your cheeks flushing as you quickly looked away.

"Do you like that name?" He asked, watching you carefully as your expression fell into bashfulness.

"I do not know what it means," you chuckled weakly.

"I'm not sure, actually," he admitted as you reluctantly met his eye, "but I think it means dear to my heart."

"Deer?"

"Important," he tried, and that seemed to work, though you still didn't say anything.

Several minutes later you called him over, and the two of you ate in relative silence. You picked at a few overcooked spots, handing what you didn't want to Sephys, who gladly ate whatever you offered.

It took you less than thirty minutes to pack up––a routine both of you unwittingly picked up after many mornings spent collecting your belongings and removing the greater traces of a camp. You collected food, tools, and blankets, while Ahk got rid of the ash from the fire, and untied the tarps. At the end of it all Sephys jumped back in your backpack, and the two of you hauled your bags off the ground to set out on your way.

A blue sky hung above you as you walked, rejuvenated in your purpose. Time alone with one another was calming to say the least––no worry about others or their needs, instead supplying for a much smaller group that was easier to manage. But it was much quieter, and the two of you didn't always have something to say. Much of your time was spent in silence.

Until –

"Woah what the FUCK?!" You suddenly said.

"Pfft –" Ahk burst into astounded laughter. He'd never heard you swear before––or, at least, not in Egyptian.

"That – what is, what is that?" You said, wide eyes set dead upon the river's edge.

Ahk followed your gaze and came face to face with a very strange looking turtle. His mouth fell open partway, his brow furrowing deeply. Its' head was quite small, drawn to a point around the nose that looked much like a pig's nose, and the shell was made out of the same skin as the feet that splayed out in rolls of uneven fat. The neck, which was both short and thick, also had rolls of skin that made it look rather... phallic, unfortunately. The eyes were almost on the top of its' head.

"What the fuck indeed," he said, blinking several times.

"What is it?"

The head moved and you both jumped back.

"It's a turtle," he said. "Probably."

"It is a mud pile," you said, laughing almost cruelly.

"Aww, come on now. Don't be mean," he chuckled, gently punching your shoulder.

"No, no, I love him," you said with a grin, easing back into your stroll. Ahk joined you in stride.

"We could take him with us," he said despite having already left without the strange turtle.

"I think he is too..." you puffed out your cheeks, "to carry."

"Heavy?"

"Yes, I think," you nodded.

The two of you walked down the Euphrates with only the running water sounding for a moment before Ahkmen spoke again.

"You know, your Egyptian has gotten much better," he said, suppressing a smile when you stuttered.

"Ah, I.. uh, I speak more with you, so I remember it better," you mumbled.

"I think you're good with languages," he said with a shrug that rocked his heavy backpack off its balance. "That'll be good for these next couple cities on our way."

"It is also good for you, if you are good with languages, when you are in Harappa," you pointed out.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "we'll see."

Silence prevailed, surrounding you instead with birds, the river, and frogs that croaked loudly on lily pads and within muddy fens. Reeds that grew past even Ahkmen's head concealed other such animals Sephys often jumped at, usually followed by her scrambling out of the plants with bared claws. You giggled but scolded her when you almost tripped over her.

The next dry but shaded spot you found became your noon stop, allowing you a break from the grueling weight and heat, and a solace in food and a relieving lack of sun. Ahkmen had been raised to worship the sun––that was the main cult of his father––but he was the first to thank the Gods that shade existed.

"I cannot believe we never found any camels for this damn trip," he said, staring at his dried fish critically.

"We have, with Batnoam. For the long, hard part," you said.

"And all we had to do in return was starve in the desert for a couple days," he said cheerfully.

"Look at me, Aganu," you said, and he turned to you, his half-eaten fish still in hand. You cupped his face, squishing his cheeks up in a way that had you grinning as you said, "we are not dead. I am dead, if I had this journey done with you not here."

He chuckled, raising his hand to cover yours on his face.

"You're more resilient than I thought you'd be, actually," he admitted.

"Resilin?"

"Strong, standing proud against your enemy or.. you know, like that," he said with a shrug.

"I did tell you, I am strong," you said, grinning.

It wasn't long––only about a day and a half, actually––till structures and small houses began to appear along each shore of the Euphrates. The first signs of human life appeared alongside with it, children running about, and adults harvesting thick groves of reeds. Small skiffs floated up and down the water, piloted by people who pushed the boat along the riverbed as Ahk had done in the Nile.

Many of the animals seemed comfortable with the river's inhabitants, as well. Stray dogs wandered from house to house, and as you got further down the river, the mud huts with reed thatchings made way for true clay houses, squared off and holding stables roofs that people slept on in the cool night. During the day, however, most people worked beneath reed platforms, allowing stripes of sunlight to just barely peek through and illuminate their work, oftentimes being the weaving of women creating blankets bigger than your whole house.

You were quite taken with their way of life––with the build of their homes, the style of their clothes, and the textiles they created. Ahkmen just chuckled and kept moving ahead, oftentimes having to drag you with.

"Just wait," he said, side-eyeing you with a knowing grin. "The interesting part hasn't even started yet."

Babylon had seen many iterations of itself in the past, but the most astonishing part was that it managed to keep many of its' ancient counterparts thriving within the city. You of course didn't know this––Ahk did, and he thrummed with the excitement crowding useless facts till they spilled out of his mouth.

The walls of the city came into view rather quickly, solidifying hours later when the colors and height of it became obvious. Spiked, blue tiled towers were built in equal lengths apart from each other, growing away from the entrance, whose gate dwarfed the various travellers entering the city. Between those towers, thick, white walls hid the inside from view, trimmed with a golden brick at the top. On either side of the entrance were strange, gold statues of what appeared to be a lion with a man's head. Below those were fountains of water that poured into a moat that surrounded the whole of the city, leaving only one possible point of entry; across a low, brick bridge.

You passed through green fields irrigated with trickling water, and mud houses built with reed-thatched roofs that blocked out the harsh sun. Patches of strange fruit lay amongst the staple crops––barley next to grapes, wheat next to almonds, pistachios, and dates.

Your mouth fell open, staring up at the engravings circling the towers at the top. On the bottom of the blue towers were imprints mimicking the golden statues. Fortunately for Ahk, you kept moving without having to be reminded, and you were soon presenting yourself to the soldiers.

"Intent?" The guard asked.

You were busy staring at the massive spikes that dug into the ground whenever the bar gate was lowered, so Ahk was mostly left alone.

"Sorry, do you speak Egyptian or Sumerian?" He asked in the most polite way he could.

"Urhammu?" The guard said, turning to his compatriot, who quickly came over. He said something in Akkadian that Ahkmen couldn't understand.

The other guard, whose name Ahk assumed was Urhammu, nodded and turned to Ahk.

"What is your intent for entering this city?" Urhammu asked in Sumerian. Ahk let out a tiny breath.

"We have travelled from Egypt and we need rest before we continue our journey," Ahk explained. "We'll probably be here for a while but we'll spend plenty of money."

"That is the answer for the next two questions, then," he said, pursing his lips as he tried to remember what the next was. "Where are you going after you leave?"

"Down to Harappa."

"Where is that?"

"South-east of Elam," Ahk recalled from his map.

"Be careful in Elam. They are violent people," the guard said flatly.

Ahkmen had to bite his cheek to stop from retorting something that'd get both of you kicked out of the city before you ever even entered.

"Are we allowed in then?" Ahk asked.

"Do you have any weapons on you?"

"Knife," he said as he pulled out the small dagger you'd been using for preparing the fish.

"Good then. You may enter," Urhammu said with a nod, motioning for the next group to step up.

You and Ahk grinned as you rushed into the city, running from shadow––that lasted through three gates with the sheer thickness of the outer wall––into daylight that streamed past the high walls, flowing in the streets like aqueducts enlivening the whole city. Lining the pathways were strips of green, though the date trees that must've once been a deep green were more yellowed and dry than usual. Along each of the strips were, in fact, aqueducts, allowing a thin layer of water to rule the city that stood as a beacon in a waterless desert.

A large bridge awaited you as the first landmark of the city, on either side lowered grounds inhabited by groves of homes built upon each other, and the streets between hidden by tarps and palm trees. The scent of cooking meat and stirred vegetables hit you with mouth-watering allure, but the best was still yet to come.

Stone plazas stretched out past the bridge, decorated by the walls that surrounded it in blue, gold, silver, and white. Various guards and soldiers stood at each of the gates around the stone stretch, standing beside glazed images of lions, flowers, and pillars of faience delicately mosaicked into the walls. Though this plaza was mostly vacant, the sound of distant conversations, clanking metals, and animal calls marked the presence of a vast market, hidden behind one of the three entrances presented to you. The sheer size of the empty plot caught both of you by surprise––the cities you'd seen as of recent were nothing compared to the sprawling empire of the city-state of Babylon.

You jogged to the center, a place that allowed you to peer into each of the gates. The one opposite of where you'd come from lead to yet another bridge, hanging over gardens that built up in massive terraces on either side, ranging from far beneath and high above. To your right appeared to be a large home or temple, and to the left was a gate leading through an array of pillars before a smaller archway came into view.

"This way?" Ahk suggested, pointing to the left with his thumb.

You nodded and the two of you set off again, a certain quickness in your step.

"I am so happy!" You giggled, practically jumping down the corridor. Your hands raised excitedly to your chest, clapping quietly.

"Any specific reason for that?" Ahk asked with a chuckle.

"The magic! All cities have magic, I did know this, and I will know the magic for Babylon too," you said.

The pillars had you slightly distracted with their intricate decorations, their mosaics made of gem tiles smaller than your fingernails.

"If you're talking about lessons, we'll probably have to pay for that," Ahk said, shifting the straps on his shoulders. "And we already have to pay for a place to stay. Most likely with labor."

"They do not like gold?" You asked.

"I'm sure they do," he chuckled, "but it's not exactly useful to someone who runs a tavern."

"Maybe," you said, returning to his side after spinning out to get a good look at the pillars. "Now, we get food?"

"And beer."

"Lots," you agreed.

Ahkmen had to read a lot about Babylon during his time in the house of life, but most of the readings were about the mythology or the royal lineage, not about the commoner's life. Thus he expected the markets to be much like the ones in Memphis or Thebes––crowded, with an array of stalls displaying anything from gemstones and godly idols to spices and pottery.

The two of you were met first by seamsters and seamstresses, threading together thin lines of colored silk to reveal the image hidden in millions of strings. A single carpet––or blanket, neither of you could tell––was being worked on by at least ten people, sewing diligently the long ends of the fabric. Several of the were tying tassels on the finished edges, carefully braiding the vibrant colors of purple, gold, and crimson. Beyond them, the market––stretching invisibly beyond the haze of midday heat.

Crowds coalesced into smaller groups, wandering the marked pathways with long dresses that brushed against the stone ground. The tiles of the market were cleaned well, but by the simple occupation of the area, sand and dirt were brushed up into corners in tiny hills. Tame dogs and birds hopped around the free area, expertly avoiding the moving legs of people.

The stalls, though––numbering many, and most highly specialized for its' product. Vials and glasses of oil hung on the hooks of one such stall, the glass vases blown into wide bowls swirling with colors of green and blue. Inside them, holy oils and ointments sloshed about, emanating sweet scents that colored the whole market. Ahk sighed deeply as he inhaled Egyptian musk.

A group of men leading camels bisected your tiny group, and you and Ahk met on the tail end of the moving caravan. He took your hand, leading you away from the center of the street, and to the sides that weren't quite as hectic.

While he hadn't been looking where exactly he was going, you found yourselves standing before a bakery, two ovens burning bright within brick encasings. A couple of women sat out front picking out the wheat from the stems, setting the buds into large clay bowls that were poured into a wheat grinder. The grinder churned the oddly-shaped stones against each other, creating a much softer flour that was made into dough, kneaded beneath the hands of even more workers. You stopped to stare for a moment as you had never seen a grinder before. To his surprise, he hadn't either.

"What is that?" You asked one of the women in Akkadian. She looked up to you, moving her thick, dark, curly hair out of her eyes.

"It is a wheat grinder," she said plainly, though there was no annoyance in her eye. "From Greece. They call it the Hourglass mill."

"Ah, thank you," you said with a small bow. She offered you a small smile before returning to her work. "Time glass mill," you told Ahk.

Stalls ahead depicted more women and men weaving blankets and tarps, or processing fresh-cut reeds from the Euphrates to mix into papyrus. Others had picked flax, which looked similar to reeds, but made a softer material––linen. Bags, tassels, and ropes hung from textile shops, some colored intricately and others a plain, dull white.

At this time Ahk glanced to the bags atop both your shoulders, and felt a tad embarrassed at the state of your belongings. Some of your clothes and blankets hung half out of the top, accompanied by belts and rope attached to the outer hooks, and potions that bulged awkwardly against the rough material. Still, he fit in better than he would've if he looked royal. No one looked like they had more to their name than a modest house.

The two of you stopped at a stall that had racks of cured meat hanging out underneath the shade of a thick, mud roof, filling the air with spices, fish, and antelope. A package of the sliced meat would last a good while, and didn't cost as much as fresh meat would have. Ahk decided to buy a package with a few copper rings.

While you were up on your tip-toes trying to shove the meat into Ahkmen's bag, Ahkmen caught something out of the corner of his eye, and jumped to attention.

"Yogi –"

"Sit still," you said, grunting as you punched the bag into place.

"Is it in yet?"

"Mm, I know your wife will say that," you said as you returned to walking down the road.

Ahkmen, left in a shocked stupor, had to manually close his mouth and chase after you to avoid losing track of you.

"I can't believe you'd say something like that," he said when he caught up to you.

"But I am right, you said, grinning as you poked him in the chest with a single finger.

"I can neither confirm nor deny," he said. "But I do know there's beer over there."

You whirled around, asking, "where?"

"Come," Ahk said as he took your hand, guiding you through the rambunctious crowd and towards one of the established buildings housing the beer still brewing in giant vats.

Several steps lead down to a lowered floor, surrounded by walls that shielded the brewers from the streets' view. The brewers stood in perfect lines flanking either side of the entrance, each positioned in front of a large bowl, vat, or pot. At the top of the stairs, images of a goddess were painted vibrantly on the half-walls that lead down. Many of the gods of Babylon were taken from those of Sumer, and since Ahkmen had spent a good while studying the culture, he gave an educated guess that it depicted Ninkasi, the Goddess of beer.

You wandered down the steps without asking. Ahk didn't know if that was allowed, but no one seemed to stop you, and you did have a great familiarity with the process of beer-making. For a while you spoke animatedly with one of the women, who returned your enthusiasm happily. He watched on, a thoughtless smile on his face as he leant on the half-wall on the streetside, his cheek balanced on his hand.

"Fell in love with one of the women, ey?" Someone asked from behind him, followed by an irritating, ingenuous, and strenuously loud slurp through a straw. He turned slowly to face the stranger.

"Sort of," he admitted, leaning his back against the wall to face them.

The stranger had a large beer in his hand, and a reed straw through which he sucked the thick, viscous mixture that was the product of beer in southern Mesopotamia. His hair was long and braided, and though his beard wasn't as long as most men's, it was still there in thick scruff. He kept a short stature and sported long, red and black robes that fell down to his sandalled feet. Ahk glared, although he hadn't meant to.

"How did you know I speak Egyptian?" Ahk asked, crossing his arms.

"You look like an idiot, that's why," he chuckled as he scanned the hidden Prince. "Half-naked, all that."

In a sudden flush of embarrassment, Ahk's eyes darted to the crowd, and indeed found a decent amount of odd looks cast his way. He crossed his arms tighter over his bare chest.

"It's hot. And anyway, how do you speak Egyptian?" said Ahk.

"Oh, well I'm the King's son," the stranger said brightly. "I don't blame you for not knowing me. You don't look like you know the prince of your own nation, anyway." He chuckled smoothly.

Ahkmen blipped out of reality for a moment as he tried desperately to remember if his family had ever been visited by Babylonian royalty.

"His name is Ahkmen," he said in Sumerian. "And I'd prefer you didn't talk to me right now."

"Don't be bitter," the stranger said with a growing grin, as his words had been a perfect return of Sumerian banter.

Ahk seethed.

"Aganu!" You called his name, waving him eagerly over.

He didn't even bother to excuse himself from the Kassite prince nor say goodbye, simply leaving to join you.

"See you around, Egyptian!"

"That – that's not even an insult," Ahk said, throwing his hands up into the air as he debated following after him, only to be stopped by you tugging at his arm.

"Come, the beer here, you drink it fresh, and it is still warm," you said, easily earning his attention.

Similar to the beer of Egypt, the brews of Mesopotamia were sweet, and described often as fruity. The amount of actual alcohol was lower than your specialized drinks, but higher than the usual amount found in Egyptian. To Ahk, however, all that mattered was that it tasted good, and fuzzed out the harsher thoughts in his mind, relating to any number of things.

Many of the different breweries had separate recipes that weren't found at others, making it an all too frequent stop in your tour throughout this single section of the city, that must've made up no more than a section of a sector in the city of Babylon––a microcosm amongst the greater sprawling, stone landscape.

When the shadows began to grow long and stark against the ground, the two of you noted that the sun was lowering down to the city's outer walls, signifying the coming of dusk. By then you'd shared five beers, though you couldn't be called drunk just as much as you couldn't be called sober. It was also around that time that both of you realized you were quite hungry, and it was with great excitement that Ahkmen was reminded of a fact––he didn't have to catch food anymore, and you remembered you didn't have to cook it.

"We should get..." Ahk trailed off as he thought in depth.

"Bread," you said, earning a firm nod.

"Yes, and.. fruit, if they have it," he added.

"And we have the meat?"

"If it hasn't fallen out it's still in my bag," he said.

Loaves of bread, made mainly out of the cash crop barley, lined the display shelves set outside of one of the bakeries. They were made into various types and shapes, the most familiar of them being the cone sprinkled with sweet salt. But round pies were there as well, thin flatbreads, chunks of bread nearly forming a perfect square, and ones that popped out at the top like a fat mushroom.

Ahk allowed you to choose since you seemed so excited by the shapes––despite them not being any differently flavored––and you went with the fat mushroom. It didn't cost much at all, and soon you were both set off looking for sticky, dried dates. As much as you didn't want to be in Egypt anymore, you were certainly a child from the nation just as he was.

A woven, reed basket became the home of your food, stacked with everything you would need for the night––flasks of beer, two loaves of the soft, sweet bread, and handfuls of plums, dates, figs, and pears. It was a special sort of culture shock to go from the once-great cities torn down to ratty towns to Babylon, who survived the ravages of the current drought and violence by consistently switching sides to whomsoever conquered it. Not that Ahk was complaining––he was actually so enraptured in your excitement that he hardly remembered the difference, and was more interested in helping you search for a good place to eat. Somewhere further from the crowd, quieter, and with a good view.

Neat stairs and ramps led to a pool built nearby to the markets, filled with clear water and nude citizens who bathed and swam in its' white marble walls. The structure was built deep enough into the earth that the steps descending to it took on the shape of an amphitheater. From the uppermost layer, the one least inhabited, the two of you could watch the tiny people far below bathing and splashing in the water.

"I almost forgot about bathing," Ahk said halfway through a chunk of bread.

"What?" You turned to him with a small grin. "You bath all days in the river."

"Oh, river bathing is rather different from pool bathing," he said, recalling the bathing rooms in his private area of the palace in Egypt. How luxurious, and how distant, it seemed now––silken robes and aphrodisiac oils entirely removed from his identity.

"You want to go bathing?" You suggested.

He let out a long sigh before he said, "maybe later."

For the remainder of your slowly-eaten dinner––done so to truly appreciate what you hadn't had for what seemed like months––you watched the tiny people splashing and drowning each other in the pool. You cackled when someone slipped on the water's edge and fell in, soaking their clothes.

"You're so mean," Ahk chuckled, adoration pouring out of his smile.

"No," you said, "I am just fun."

The sun fully disappeared by the time you and Ahk were finishing up the last bits of your meal, for which you had saved two dates––one for each of you. Cleaning up to leave was easy considering you hadn't used anything in your bags, and soon you were back up on the more occupied streets, Sephys strutting beside you with her hairless, sagging skin. You had your thumbs hooked in loops around your bags' straps, eager eyes taking in as much information as they could.

There was something undeniably old about the city. The closer you got to the center, the older the stone was, battered by the elements of a harsh, unforgiving environment. Cuneiform written in ancient Sumerian stood in the last few remaining monuments from the time of Sumer and Ur, monoliths that Ahkmen spent the time to stop and read to you.

"What's ingenious about this language is that there's a controlled amount of characters due to the fact that they don't stand for ideas or determinatives like hieroglyphs, they go by phonetic sound," Ahk said, his mouth falling open as he craned his neck to stare at the sheer height of the monument.

"... right," you said flatly.

"Did you ever figure out how to read hieroglyphs?" He asked, turning to you only after he posited his question.

"No," you said with a sigh, shaking your head. "I never did try."

"I could teach you," he suggested.

You whipped to face him, your eyes wide.

"Only if you want to, of course," he added quietly.

"No – I mean, yes! I do want that," you said, a toothy grin spreading across you as you took his hands. "And the Sumerian."

"I can teach you cuneiform, or I can try," he said beneath his breath, "but I think it'd be wiser for you to learn the Akkadian form of the language."

"Why?"

"More useful, for the first thing," he said, earning a sad but knowing shrug.

"Okay, that is right," you said. "But you do not know Akkadian?"

"No I do not! But I can teach you how each symbol is pronounced, and – and I think we'll probably make some friends here in Babylon."

"Like the man at the beer place?"

"I did not consent to a conversation with him and I will never do so," he said straight out.

"Was he mean?" You laughed as the two of you continued on your way, soon to meet the next wall of the city.

"He's a Prince," Ahk said.

"Ew," you said, scrunching up your nose. He chuckled weakly.

Far in the distance, and far above you, a golden-capped building stood proud at the center of Babylon. Surrounded by other tall buildings, however, it was hard to see what exactly it was, and beside the gardens and monuments it seemed unimportant. As you grew closer, the clearer it got, until you found yourselves on a long, wide street leading straight up to the step layered pyramid. On either side of the street were homes, ranging anyway from mud brick huts to mansions that stretched far enough to owe their size a pool and private gardens.

"I've heard of this thing that some people do," Ahk said, the sight of palaces bringing back thoughts of Egypt, and of Panya and Unas, who tested a hypothesis Unas had. "They go up to the biggest, grandest home they can find, get inside, and pretend they're a servant. No one asks any questions and you get a place to stay and things to eat."

"Hmm..." you thought for a moment, "that is sounding more fun than the tavern."

"It does, doesn't it?" Ahk said with a smirk, a mischievous chuckle building in his quick-beating chest.

You continued to wander slowly up the street, scanning the homes and shops carefully as you passed by. Torches, candles, and fireplaces burned bright in bakeries and metalworker's shops, but homes soon went quiet in the night, many of the people flocking to their roofs. From above, the scant light of the city dissipated entirely, allowing the stars to beam as they did in the middle of the desert.

Blankets with soft tassels or mats of reed were set out on the roofs, often dangling over the side of the homes, where you and Ahk could try to jump up and bat them. You, of course, never touched them, but Ahkmen spared you the embarrassment of shoving it in your face. Instead he just laughed and ruffled your hair.

It was now, when the tall buildings and walls faded away and the ziggurat was exposed, that you finally realized it was standing there at all. In the dark of the night, it was hard to see the lapis colors on the midnight blue sky.

"I think that is the big house," you said softly, your pace slowing.

"That's a temple. Remember what happened last time we tried to get into a temple?"

You frowned.

"Okay, you do the house then," you grumbled.

He payed a little closer attention for the following minutes, till he spotted a large home surrounded by a garden estate, walled away from the street by tall, olive-green trees.

"How about here?" He said, gesturing to the house with his thumb. Your brow raised high when you saw it.

"Yes," you said emphatically, earning a blushing giggle from Ahkmen.

"Let's go," he said, motioning you along in a way that had both of you bursting into stifled laughter.

"Okay, you shut up," you said as you moved past him to enter the estate.

"Yes, dear," he replied in an exaggerated, sad voice, bringing you back into giggles, sneaking into a noble's home.

[junglxqueen]

Just Friends (L.H.)

Word Count: 3579 Chapter 2 ¨Babylon We burned too bright, now the fire's gone, watch it all fall down¨ ¨Thank you Brazil!¨ Luke yells, above the excited screams of the fans. ¨You were fantastic!¨I say, receiving another wave of screams, at the same time that Babylon's melody ends and the lights go out. I smile and stare at the audience for a few more seconds. The lights of the telephones, illuminating in the middle of the darkness, and the screams that little by little are extinguished. I let the adrenaline and dopamine run through my body for a few more seconds until Michael's hand passing me brings me back to reality. ¨Let´s go.¨ He murmurs to what I nod, I leave my instrument in its place and I follow them. As soon as we leave the stage, we are received with applauses and some congratulations from the crew, a tradition that we have had for quite some time now. I smile, thank them and take the towel they give me to dry my sweat. Michael, Calum, and Luke are full of energy, (concerts usually have that effect on us, although it doesn't last long, in 15 minutes they will be dead). Ashton flops to the ground dramatically, apparently, his reserve tank is empty, and to be honest, I'm not surprised. I decide to drop in with Ashton, and before laying my head on his stomach, I wipe a bit of his sweat with the towel. He raises his head and looks at me amused. ¨Seriously? You're as covered in sweat as I am, maybe even more so, you smell.¨ I throw him the towel reproachfully. ¨Hush, I don't smell, that´s probably you.¨ ¨Yes of course.¨He says and puts his head back on the floor. Damn you, Ashton, do I really smell? I sneak my head down to my armpits, nothing, I smell like flowers. Ashton laughs because he knows what I just did so I hit his stomach. ¨You would like to smell like me, I smell divine.¨ He doesn't answer. Soon we hear Kevin's voice urging us to get up and take a shower so we can go to the hotel to spend the night. A group groan is his response. ¨Nono, no complaints, this is their last concert here in Brazil, at the latest we have to be tomorrow night in Argentina. You have to give two concerts there. On the road, Luke and Michael have a call with the radio that I told them about yesterday, and Ashton, Annie, and Calum have a Zoom with one of the Argentine TV channels, which Luke and Michael will later join. After that, we arrive, rehearsals, then you have about three or four hours free before we start with the concert, understood? I sent the schedules to their phones and Ann, stop ignoring my messages. I know you see them.¨ ¨Sorry, I forget to answer.¨ Kevin lets out an "Mmmhm" and leaves, but not before reminding us to shower before leaving. We didn´t use to do that, we used to jump directly from the Concert to the bus, but it ended up smelling like a municipal garbage dump after a few months, so it was established as a rule to shower before getting on the bus. After the shower, I take my things, say goodbye to the team, and go to the bus, on the way I find Kevin and rush to meet him. ¨Kev, Kev, how long is it from here to the hotel?¨ He looks at me, without stopping walking. ¨Not too long, about twenty minutes away, why are you tired? Your bug didn´t come back, right?¨ Bug is a reference to the migraines that I get. I shake my head. ¨No, the medicine that Luke gave me caught it just in time, and yes, I'm dead tired, I wanted to know if I could sleep on the way, before arriving at the hotel, but it´s very little time.¨ "Aha," he answers, nodding. When we get to the bus, before he walks away, he tells me which one is my room and tells me to ask for the keys at the hotel reception, to which I nod and he says goodbye. I get on the bus and see most of the guys there. I greet them and immediately look for a half-abandoned place on the bus, I find it almost at the end, a long seat between the windows. It's not that I don't want to be with them, it's just that after all the fuss, I'd really like a little hush. Calum joins me not long after. ¨Tired?¨ I ask as soon as I see him, he makes a gesture of

more or less with his head and hands me a banana. I take it with pleasure and I start to eat it. ¨Do you know when we have a break?¨ He asks and takes a bite of his pear. I shake my head. ¨When was the last break?¨ I ask. ¨I think like three or four months ago.¨ I drop an "Mmmhm" and check my phone in search of my itinerary. ¨The next one should be in Paraguay, right? They said we were going to have a break there, like a week or so.¨ Calum lets out a frustrated sigh. ¨What happens? You miss someone?¨ I elbow him, with an amused smile. He looks at me and denies it, blushing a little. ¨Not really ... I mean yes, but no, well yes but not so much, it's like ...¨ I look at him raising my eyebrows. ¨Well yeah, I miss her.¨ He murmurs realizing that he had caught himself. ¨Maybe you can take a fly, go and come back at that time?¨ He denies with the head. ¨I already checked, from Argentina it takes like two or three days to arrive in Australia, and from Paraguay? Won´t even tell you. It's not going to give me the time to get back and forth before the next stop.¨ ¨Aw.¨ I look at him sadly. ¨Sorry Cal, I guess you're going to have to hang on until the next break.¨ He nods and thinks for a second, then reaches into his pocket and removes the paper the interviewer had given Luke. I raise my eyebrows and look at him. ¨Why did you keep it?¨ I ask and try to take it from his hands, he dodges me. ¨I saw your reaction Ann back at the break room.¨ ¨What ?! I was curious.¨ I defend myself, to which he says ¨Aha¨, incredulous. ¨You and I know it's not just curiosity, when are you going to admit it¨ He asks, trying to meet my eyes while I avoid him. ¨There is nothing to admit, we are best friends and that's it. I already told you.¨ He denies with the head. ¨Bullshit. You and I are best friends, Michael and I are best friends, the five of us are best friends. But only the two of you treat each other lovey-dovey.¨ He raises his eyebrows, looking at me. As if we haven´t spoken about this a thousand times already. ¨We already talked about this, he sees me as if I were his little sister, that's why he protects me so much. And I do the same with him, he's like my bro-¨ ¨My balls¨ He interrupts. ¨If it was really like that, it would be incest.¨ I try to slap him on the head, a bit embarrassed. Which he dodges. ¨I'm serious Ann, react, I don´t think there is a more beautiful couple or two made just for each other like you two. I wouldn't want to see you lose each other for not acting on time.¨ He looks at me seriously and when he finishes he smiles at me slightly, that kind of smile that tells you that he is telling you that because he loves you. I am speechless, so he leaves a kiss on my hair and gets up when the bus stops, leaving the crumpled paper on the table in front of me before he leaves. I stare at the paper for a few seconds, thinking about what he told me. The thing is, as we are now, I think our relationship is perfect. No drama, no jealousy, no danger of my heart is shattered. We are friends, friends that give each other the necessary amount of affection and tenderness for the day. We support each other in everything and we are always there for each other. But for me to give him the power to hold my heart in his hands? No, I'm really sorry. You have to excuse me, but I'm scared, I don't want to take the risk. We are fine the way we are, best friends with a platonic relationship, perfect. ¨Knock Knock.¨ Says the King of Rome, from the corridor. I rush to grab the paper before he sees it. He looks at me with raised eyebrows but doesn't ask questions. ¨The bus stopped about five minutes ago and the driver already wants to go, are you staying here to sleep?¨ I shake my head and stand up, putting the paper in my pocket. ¨I´ve lost track of time, I'm sorry.¨ I say as I walk up to him. Together we got off the bus. I greet some fans who are there waiting in front of the hotel and I recommend them to go home. It's late and it's cold, I wouldn't want them to stay out in the open for so long. After a few minutes, we go into

the hotel and look for the keys to my room. Luke, who had stayed with me outside, walks me to the door and says goodbye when we arrive, wishing me a good night. He always does that, he doesn't like to leave me alone in unknown places, he has done it practically ever since we met. After settling into my room and changing into pajamas, I order a pizza and start looking for something to watch on TV, even though I won´t paying attention. What Calum has told me is running through my head. Aside from everything I´ve told you before, I´m also not very good with my feelings. In fact, it takes a lot for me to recognize them, and even more, to maintain them. And with Luke, it's all very confusing. Yes, I like him, but at the same time, I'm not sure I really like him. I mean, I like to receive his attention, and his pampering and all his affection, but do I really like him? Of course, I won´t like to see him with someone else, but that could be my ego, being affected. And if I really like him, I see him every day. What if I get bored? What if I mess up our friendship? Worse yet, what if I'm really in love, and decide to risk it all. What if he ruins it? What if ruin it? Apart, I've known these guys for years now, I know how capable they are of ruining something beautiful, I've seen them do it. What if he ruins our thing? And how will the atmosphere in the band be if it doesn't work? No no-no. You'll have to excuse me, but I'm not risking everything for something full of ¨whar ifs¨. So I pack up all those thoughts and put them back in the closet of my mind, the less I think about it, the less it affects me. I hear a knock coming from the door and I look at the time, 40 minutes have passed. Forty minutes already ?! So much time thinking! I shake my head and surround myself with the blanket, maybe it´s the pizza I ordered. But when I get to the door and see through the fisheye who it is, my thoughts that I had locked them in the closet, burst out. I open the door and smile at him, somewhat surprised. ¨Luke.¨ ¨Room service?¨ He smiles, lifting the pizza in one hand and looking at me innocently. I open the door a little more, letting him in. He walks by and I stare for a second at his back covered in a furry and warm robe while he settles into my room. I sigh and close the door. How am I supposed to lock all these thoughts now?

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms #95: Gilgamesh(Child)

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re continuing the pseudo-redo theme of the past couple builds with Kid Gilgamesh. First Nero, then Shiki, now Gil... We swear if there’s another alternate version of an existing character coming up we’re going to scream.

But yeah he’s Gilgamesh, but baby; that means he’s cute enough to charm enemies, has instant knowledge about said enemies thanks to Sha Naqba Imuru, and can weaponize anything in the Gate of Babylon.

Check out Kogil’s build breakdown below the cut, or his character sheet over here!

Next up: We’re watching, and we’re waiting. On the edge of our seat, anticipating.

Race and Background

Gilgamesh is definitely some kind of Aasimar, but we’re making a child here. Leaning into the whole rugrat experience, we’re going with a Lightfoot Halfling, but feel free to play a child Aasimar if you want. Or a bugbear-don’t let us stop you from having fun. Regardless, for the sake of this build you get +2 Dexterity and +1 Charisma. You’re also Lucky thanks to your clairvoyance, letting you re-roll 1′s on attacks, saves, and ability checks. You’re also pretty Brave, giving you advantage against being frightened, and Nimble, which lets you move through the spaces of larger creatures. Finally, you’re Naturally Stealthy, letting you hide when obscured by larger creatures. Kids probably shouldn’t be out adventuring, but at least you’re a smaller target than the other yous. You also only have a speed of 25′, but it’s not the end of the world.

You’re the same person as the other Gilgamesh, so it’s not too surprising that you have the same background. The Noble background gives you History proficiency because you’re one of, if not the, oldest servants around, and Persuasion proficiency as well. You’re a kid, kids are cute, you can get your way with some puppy dog eyes.

Ability Scores

Put your highest score into Charisma; like I said, you’re cute, and you also have an extremely powerful array of weaponry that you can summon at will. Both of those are charisma-based skills. Second is Dexterity; you’re a nimble lil munchkin, or at least you’ll have to be to run around a battle just wearing cargo shorts and a hoodie. Third is Wisdom, followed up by Intelligence. You have tons of knowledge of the world around you being pumped into your brain by one of your Noble Phantasms, and you’re also aware enough of social norms to know you shouldn’t constantly use it, unlike your older self. Your Constitution is a little low because you’re still growing, but dump Strength. You’re a kid, and you don’t have to swing any weapons around when you can just magically summon them instead.

Class Levels

1. Bard 1: You get by on your charms, wits, and weirdly diverse array of magical powers, and that’s saying bard to us. You get Dexterity and Charisma save proficiency, as well as three skills of your choice; Insight for a less magical explanation for your NP, Religion because you’re part god- you should know your family tree, and Perception because you’re going to have to pick your weapons out of literally everything that exists, so you’ll need a good eye.

You can give away Bardic Inspiration as a bonus action, giving another creature a bit of a boost to one of their attack rolls, saves, or checks in the next 10 minutes. You can use this feature a number of times per long rest equal to your charisma modifier. You can also cast Spells using your Charisma to cast them. 

Grab Prestidigitation so you can start taking small objects out of the gate, and Thunderclap for a simple use of your treasures in an AoE blast. You also get Charm Person and Command to really rub in how cute you are, as well as Detect Magic and Identify to pick up extra information with Sha Naqba Imuru. Both charm person and Command require their target to fail a wisdom save to work, that’ll have a DC of 8 + your proficiency bonus + your charisma modifier.

2. Bard 2: At second level you can leverage your NP to become a Jack of All Trades, beaming enough information into your head that you can add half your proficiency bonus to any check you’re not proficient with. You also learn a Song of Rest, adding an extra d6 to any healing done over a short rest. You also become more of a team player with some Magical Inspiration, letting creatures add your inspiration to healing or damage done by one instance of a spell. 

Speaking of healing done by spells, Heroism makes a creature immune to fear, and gain temporary HP each turn. You know what you’re doing, and knowledge is the antithesis of fear. Unless you’re facing a Beholder, then knowing what you’re getting into only makes things worse. But you’re level 2, so that probably won’t be an issue.

3. Bard 3: You’re a bit young for college, but you graduate from the College of Creation anyway! Now your inspiration comes prepackaged with extra effects thanks to your Note of Potential. When used on an ability check, your inspiration die is rolled twice and either result can be used. When used for an Attack Roll, each creature of choice within 5′ of the target must make a Constitution save or take Thunder damage equal to the amount rolled. If used on a Saving Throw, the user gains temporary HP equal to the amount rolled plus your charisma modifier. You can also make a Performance of Creation as an action, creating a nonmagical item on the ground/in a liquid within 10′ of you. It’s a powerful ability, but it comes with some caveats. It must be worth less than 20 times your level, and has to be medium or smaller. It’s also very clearly created by magic, so you can’t pass something off as the real deal for scams. Not like you’d need the money anyway. You can use this once per long rest, or by spending a 2nd level spell slot. 

Speaking of, you also get second level spells this level. You can now make a Cloud of Daggers for a more offensive use of your Gate of Babylon. This creates a 5′ cube of daggers floating in the air, and creatures that enter the cube take slashing damage when they enter the cube. Either stick it in a doorway for a decent trap, or team up with Spartacus for some harsh damage.

One last thing- you get a round of Expertise this level, doubling your proficiency in History and Persuasion.

4. Bard 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to boost your Charisma for stronger spells and more inspiration. You also pick up Friends for another charm point and Hold Person to use the Chains of Heaven like they were meant to be, forcing a wisdom save on a humanoid, and if they fail they’re paralyzed until the spell ends or they make another wisdom save on their turn.

5. Bard 5: Fifth level bards get a boost to their inspiration, turning their bardic inspiration dice to d8s. You also become a Font of Inspiration, regaining inspiration uses on short rests instead of long ones.

You also get third level spells, like Clairvoyance to mimic your usual... clairvoyance. You spend 10 minutes to spy on a location you’ve seen before for up to 10 minutes.

6. Bard 6: At this level you get Countercharm, but you’ve already got Heroism which is a better use of your time anyway, since the former uses up your action and only gives creatures advantage against being charmed or frightened. You also get Animating Performance, allowing you to weaponize a large or smaller item, turning it into a Dancing Item that you can command as a bonus action. You can also inspire a creature and command your item at the same time. You can only animate an item this way once per long rest, or by spending a third level spell slot. One interesting effect of the dancing item is its Irrepressible Dance; creatures that start their turn within 10′ of the item have their speed increased or decreased by 10′ for the turn. That’s your speed issue solved then.

You also get Daylight to help your dumb halfling eyes see in the dark and make your Gate of Babylon items more impressive. Swords are cool, glowing swords are cooler.

One last thing to mention is that your Performance of Creation can now make Large items as well.

7. Bard 7: Seventh level bards get fourth level spells, like Locate Creature, which helps you locate... a creature... not all spells are super complicated. You do have to have seen the creature up close before, and it has a range of 1000′. Also, running water has a tendency to block the spell up, so don’t expect this to work too well in an urban setting.

8. Sorcerer 1: You’re charismatic, but you don’t really sing that much, so let’s grab some magic from your Divine Soul while we’re here. You get another set of Spells that also use Charisma to cast, but you don’t have to worry about starting over with spell slots; both lists use the same slots, as defined by the multiclassing spell slots table. You also get Divine Magic, which gives you Cure Wounds, as a treat. This lets you pick up cantrips and spells from the cleric spell list as well. You’re also Favored by the Gods despite your later attitude towards them, letting you add 2d4 to a failed save or attack once per short rest. You shouldn’t need a Noble Phantasm to tell you to avoid the fireball, but every little bit helps.

For spells, Light gives you a less resource-intensive Daylight to work with. Sword Burst, Fire Bolt, Magic Missile, and Ice Knife help fill out some offensive uses of your Gate of Babylon, and Blade Ward blocks enemies from getting a clean hit on you with well timed gates, making you resistant to physical damage types for a turn.

9. Sorcerer 2: Your Font of Magic gives you a couple Sorcery Points that you can spend later to do cool stuff or right now to recharge spell slots. You can also burn slots for extra points, but that’s not very useful right now. They recharge on long rests.

Also grab Catapult to help weaponize weapons that already exist. It can only throw items of 5 lbs. or less at level 1, but you can force a dexterity save to deal some bludgeoning damage.

10. Sorcerer 3: Remember those points from last level? Now you can spend them on Metamagic, ways to customize your spells for added effects. A Quickened Spell reduces a spell’s casting time from 1 action to 1 bonus action, and a Twinned Spell casts a spell a second time, targeting another creature. You have a lot of stuff in your treasury, don’t be afraid to bring them out.

11. Sorcerer 4: Use this ASI to improve your Constitution. Trust me, you’ll need it. You also get Guidance for even more ways to cheat at ability checks, and Earthbind so you can use the Chains of Heaven even on annoying flying creatures.

12. Sorcerer 5: Fifth level sorcerers get third level spells, as well as Magical Guidance. If you fail an ability check, you can spend 1 sorcery point to re-roll the d20, and must use the new roll. Grab Melf’s Minute Meteors for even more things to throw at people.

13. Bard 8: Use this ASI to maximize your Charisma for the most inspiration and best charms. Speaking of, grab Charm Monster so your charms aren’t restricted to just humanoids. Your Fair Youth explicitly only works on humanoids in FGO, but even with these spells we’re probably downgrading your Gate of Babylon a lot, so let’s just call this even.

14. Bard 9: Your Song of Rest improves a bit, so you add 1d8 to healing now. You also get fifth level spells, like Animate Objects to more consistently weaponize your treasury and the world around you. You can turn up to 10 nonmagical objects into creatures that can fly, each size larger than small doubles the amount of objects one object counts as: medium objects count as two, large as four, etc. You can command any number of them with a bonus action, either deciding their exact move next turn or giving a general order. Throwing treasure around is nice, but treasure that throws itself around? Amazing.

15. Bard 10: Your Bardic Inspiration increases to 1d10, and you get another round of Expertise. Increase your Insight and Perception to make it even harder to lie to you.

You also get Magical Secrets, two spells you can use from any spell list, and a new cantrip. Grab Dancing Lights for the hell of it, Telekinesis to weaponize the larger items in your treasury, and Conjure Volley for when the need for quantity trumps quality. The former lets you move huge or smaller creatures that fail a contested strength check, or what we’re really after, the ability to move objects of up to 1000 pounds. You technically can’t throw stuff around with this, but 1000 pounds dropped on someone from 30′ up is probably going to hurt regardless. The latter lets you throw a weapon into the air and make hundreds of copies launch themselves back down at a target area, dealing the kind of damage that weapon would normally do.

16. Bard 11: Eleventh level bards get sixth level spells, like Find the Path, which helps you find the shortest path to a non-moving target. Note that this is the shortest path, not the safest.

17. Bard 12: Use your last ASI to improve your Dexterity for a better AC, and maybe better damage if you really have to use a weapon.

18. Bard 13: Your song of rest increases to a d10, and you learn seventh level spells like Prismatic Spray for a little variety. You fire various random treasures in a 60′ cone, and roll a d8 for each creature it hits. The spell can deal fire, acid, lightning, poison, or cold damage, petrify creatures, or send them to another plane. Look, you have a lot of treasures. If you spent the time picking the exact one you needed for the job you’d never get anything done.

19. Bard 14: Creation bards hit their Creative Crescendo at level 14, letting you create a number of items equal to your charisma modifier at once when you use your Performance of Creation. Only one item can between the sizes of Medium and Huge, the rest have to be Small or smaller. You can also ignore gp limits when making items, so you can dish out the solid gold everything you’re known for.

You also get one last round of Magical Secrets, picking up Blade Barrier to make a barrier of blades, and Crown of Stars for even more things to throw at people.

20. Bard 15: Your final level sees your Bardic Inspiration hit 1d12, and you gain access to 8th level spells, like Glibness. This spell effectively guarantees every charisma-based roll you make is at least a 15, and magical effects to determine if you’re lying always say you’re telling the truth. You’re adorable, the mongrels love you.

Pros:

You’re really good at anything that happens out of combat. Between your luck, magical guidance, and being a jack of all trades, you’ve got a pretty good shot at doing anything skill based that needs to be done. You’re also really charming, both in the sense that you’ve got a stupidly high charisma and expertise, and in the sense that you can literally charm people really well.

Despite that, you make a big presence in combat as well. ten animated objects flying around plus another one made with Animating Performance means you can cover a lot of ground and make it very hard to escape.

I don’t think I really emphasized this that much in the main breakdown, but you can literally make anything you want out of thin air. That’s pretty great, especially in a campaign where the DM rewards creativity. Not only can you make it, but you can manipulated them as well, with spells like conjure volley and telekinesis further expanding your options. You probably can’t make a plane, but there’s nothing stopping you from just building your own platform and carrying yourself wherever you need to go.

Cons:

Charms and item manipulation spells both require Concentration, so not only will you have to pick and choose, but in a firefight there’s a chance you can waste a spell slot as well. You also have pretty low HP, so it’s not much trouble to get you into Power Word Kill range.

That dip into sorcerer gives you a lot of versatility, but it also means you don’t get level 9 spells. Doubling up on magic is cool and all, but it doesn’t hold a candle to Wish.

Your bonus action is going to be pretty crowded by commanding both a Dancing Object and your Animated Objects, so your turns might not go as smoothly as you’d like.

[hermionegranger56]

a v late recap of evermore

so i think Taylor Swift sensed that i was Going Through It and was like here you sad bitch, here’s another surprise album to help fix all that. cause good lord evermore is just what i (and i think we all) needed. i truly TRULY can’t believe we’re lucky enough to get a sister album to folklore, i love it so much. the first day it was out i drove myself 2 hours to the very end of the Cape and sat on an empty beach and cried to it and honestly??? magical. here are my thoughts on it that no one asked for:

first, as an overall here, this album complements folklore so well. it’s the spring to folklore’s autumn, it’s self-assured and warm and beautiful. each album shows off her lyrical genius so well and she only grows stronger here. when folklore came out, i was floored because the music was so different for her and so up my alley. each song’s production sucked me in and it was like she was confidently telling us “here is another genre i can work with” (masterfully at that). evermore feels different. it feels like Taylor is so comfortable in this creative space, she isn’t trying to fit into any new molds or expectations, she is just HERE, now, saying “this is who i am and this is my craft”. it’s really been a privilege to watch her grow as an artist. ok. here we go

willow:

god the video was so beautiful, a really good continuation of cardigan. the chorus is so so delicate and prettyyy, thats MY MAN ughhh its so good. it reminds me a lot of invisible string tbh, or if betty from cardigan grew up and found love. this is really one of my favorites, she starts so strong

fave lines: “the more that you say, the less i know/ wherever you stray I follow/ i’m begging for you to take my hand/ wreck my plans, that’s my man”; “life was a willow and it bent right to your wind”

champagne problems:

oh dear god, it’s if all too well and new years day had a baby and it is a MASTERPIECE. i can picture it all, college sweethearts, broken hearts, i feel like its new england at christmas, ivy league old money…its cinematic. and it gets at the feeling like you’ll never be good enough so you leave before that happens (basically before you get to the tolerate it stage??) and OOF. AND GODDAMN THE RANTING BRIDGE (illicit affairs came close on folklore but i think THIS might be the best bridge since All Too Well). I’ve screamed it a lot tbh

fave lines: BRIDGE BABYYYYYY EVERY SINGLE PERFECT WORD. WHAT A SHAME SHES FUCKED IN THE HEADDDD

gold rush:

this one is bright and lovely and catchy!! it reminds me a lot of mirrorball tbh, all like swirly and magical. i can’t even put it into words but i can see this one so clearly. its all rosy and golden

fave lines: “eyes like sinking ships on waters/ so inviting, i almost jump in”; “what must it be like to grow up that beautiful?/with your hair falling into place like dominoes/ I see me padding across your wooden floors/ with my Eagles t-shirt hanging from your door”; “the coastal town we wandered round/ had never seen a love as pure as it”; “my mind turns your life into folklore”

’tis the damn season:

UGH I FUCKING LOVE THIS ONE EVEN THOUGH IT MAKES ME WANNA TEXT MY EX. the melody is SOOOO satisfying, the progression to “write this down”, i’m obsessed. the idea of being home for the holidays and feeling a little lost and tired and nostalgic for what could have been is something superrrr relatable. this song reminds me of snowy drives around my hometown in the best/worst possible way hahah. one of my top 5 for sure.

fave lines: “we could call it even/ you could call me babe for the weekend/ tis the damn season, write this down/i’m staying at my parents house/ and the road not taken looks real good now”; “and wonder about the only soul/ who can tell which smiles i’m faking”

tolerate it:

oh honeyyyyy this track 5 packs a punch, i mean the lyrics are absolutely BRUTAL in the best way. it’s just so sad, and encompasses a lot of my own insecurity about always feeling like you’re more invested in a relationship and watching someone fall out of love or just stop caring. i LOVE the “my love should be celebrated, but you tolerate it”, like bitch YES your love should be celebrated. also taylor sounds angelic on the “I” at the start of the chorus

fave lines: “i know my love should be celebrated/ but you tolerate it”; “i made you my temple, my mural, my sky/ now i’m begging for footnotes in the story of your life”; “what would you do if I/break free and leave us in ruins/ took this dagger in me and removed it”

.

no body, no crime:

YESSSSSSSSS I LOVE THE SUBGENRE OF COUNTRY ABOUT WOMEN KILLING SHITTY HUSBANDS AND THIS SONG IS SO FUCKING GOOD AHHHHH!! I LOVE the beat, i love country taylor, i love the addition of HAIM. UGH ITS SO CATCHYYYY, like i’m obsessed with the slide from “i think he did it but i just. can’t. prove itttttt NOOO no body no crime” UGHHH this is without a doubt in my top five

fave lines: “she thinks i did it but she just can’t prove it”

happiness:

I heard this one described as an emotional marathon and holy shit it is, each line is a sucker punch. i really like how it feels like a conversation and looks at the acceptance and pain that mingle together when a relationship just…ends. her lyrics are unmatched on this album but this is a particularly strong track

fave lines: “i haven’t met the new me yet”; “when did all our lessons start to look like weapons/ pointed at my deepest hurt”; “there is a glorious sunrise/ dappled with the flickers of light/ from the dress i wore at midnight”

dorothea:

this one feels like Betty 2.0 and its so sweet and bright and also kinda sad. it’s wistful!! that’s the word i want, wistful! the vibe is gives off reminds me of Red, like musically. it’s home-y. idk if that makes sense but i like it a lot

fave lines: and if you’re ever tired of being known for who you know/ you know, you’ll always know me”

coney island:

ugh this one is magical, i honestly really love the instrumental to this one, it’s so soothing. the lyrics to me feel like you’re in some dream state, going through every heartbreak you’ve ever been through. I love the addition of The National, the vocals fit together so well (and I like it better than both Bon Iver features i think??)

fave lines: do you miss the rogue/ who coaxed you into paradise and left you there/ will you forgive my soul/ who you’re too wise to trust me and too old to care?”

ivy:

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (that’s how i feel about this absolute masterpiece oh my GOD) it makes me so incandescently happy, the folk feel, the lyrics that are so cinematic and poetic and paint such a clear picture (to me) of two Victorian lovers who are in unhappy marriages but don’t let that stop their love. the chorus just like….fills my whole chest, the OH GODDAMN hits so different. and i want “my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand” tattooed on me, that is one of her BEST lines and i will die on that hill. its all so pretty, i can’t deal. the vibe also strongly reminds me of a) invisible string and b) Little Women (2019). i think taylor should do folk and uhhhh only folk please

fave lines: EVERY WORD BUT ESPECIALLY: “i’d meet you where the spirit meets the bone/ in a faith forgotten land”; “oh goddamn/ my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand/ taking mine, but its been promised to another/ oh, i can’t/ stop you putting roots in my dreamland/ my house of stone, your ivy grows/ and now I’m covered in you”; “he wants what’s only yours”; “clover blooms in the field/ springs breaks loose, time is near“; ”so yeah, it’s a fire/ its a goddamn blaze in the dark and you started it”

cowboy like me:

ALL RIGHT everyone sleeps on this song but oh my GOD its so good!! it’s smooth and dreamy and gives me that old fashioned, bonnie and clyde type love story and some of the lyrics are so poetic. I really love the addition of the Tim McGraw chords too???? BUT DEAR GOD COULD WE HAVE GIVEN MARCUS MUMFORD MORE OF A ROLE HERE??!! HE SOUNDS WONDERFUL, GIVE HIM A FEATURE, GIVE HIM A WHOLE VERSE. THIS IS A FOLK ALBUM TAYLOR, USE FUCKING MUMFORD AHHHH (i fucking love him omg)

fave lines: “dancin’ is a dangerous game”; “you’re a bandit like me/ eyes full of stars”; “now you hang from my lips/ like the Gardens of Babylon/ with your boots beneath my bed/ forever is the sweetest con”

long story short:

A BOP!! GIVE ME SOME HAPPINESS TAYLOR WOO! I really love how catchy this one is. it feels like her introducing the craziness of her life to joe and being like look all of that was tough but here i am now and I couldn’t be happier. It’s refreshing, self-deprecating and endearing. I couldn’t love it more and it is ALWAYS stuck in my head!

fave lines: “and he’s passing by/ rare as the glimmer of a comet in the sky”; “long story short I survived”

marjorie:

ha hahah hah ha this one ENDS me, like dear LORD i need to call my grandma immediately. it is so so GOOD and SAD, like the you don’t know how good something or someone is until they’re gone, but even then, they’re still there with you. I love the grandma wisdom of “never be so clever you forget to be kind” etc. and holy SHIT the addition of Taylor’s grandmother’s opera singing as background vocals is GENIUS AND DEVASTATING, god the part where she goes “i’d think you were singing with me now” and then Marjorie comes in is honestly one of the most beautiful musical moments i’ve heard in a hot minute and it breaks me every time. wow.

fave lines: “never be so polite/ you forget your power/ never wield such power/ you forget to be polite”; “the autumn chill that wakes me up/ you loved the amber sky so much”; “and if i didn’t know better/ i’d think you were singing to me now”

closure:

ok i’m sorry, this is my only skip here. I really do love the lyrics and the idea of, yeah no you don’t deserve closure from me. i just can’t get past the pots and pans beginning, its too chaotic. but i’m sure it’ll grow on me! it does feel like finally moving on and i do love that about it

fave lines: “don’t treat me like/ some situation that needs to be handled”; “i know i’m just a/ wrinkle in your new life/ staying friends would/ iron it out so nice”

evermore:

god her voice is SO soothing in this one, it’s literally hypnotic. the song itself feels wandering and dark at first, like you’re stuck in this depression, and then bon iver comes in and it picks up and it feels like coming out of the trees, into the sunlight and finding your way again. finding that the pain WOULDNT be for evermore like she says. it feels like an ending and a beginning. beautiful

fave lines: “writing letters/ addressed to the fire”; “and when i was shipwrecked/ i thought of you/ in the cracks of light/ i dreamed of you”; “and i was catching my breath/ floors of the cabin creaking under my step/ and i couldn’t be sure/ i had a feeling so peculiar/ this pain wouldn’t be for evermore”

[missdawnandherdusk]

Rita Skeeter’s Scoop

Draco X Gryffindor!Reader

Part 1    Part 2     Part 3     Part 4

Part 5     Part 6     Part 7    Part 8

Part 9    Part 10    Part 11   Part 12

Part 13   Part 14

Summary: All is fair in love and war, but why did it have to be a war? And when did you say that you wanted to fight? 

Archive of Our Own Link

A/n: Hello my darlings! Welcome to the next part and honestly it took me a while to figure out where I wanted to take this, so please enjoy the angsty fluff of this chapter and I’m happy to introduce Susan! (you’ll understand later). I love you guys so much you have no idea, please don’t stop commenting, reblogging and liking, you have no idea how much it excites me and motivates me to keep writing. ALSO GUYS TOM FELTON IS GOING TO BE AT THE COMICON NEAR ME AND YOU BET YOUR GALLEONS THAT I AM DROPPING COLLEGE MONEY TO GO AND MEET THAT MAN

............................

BLOOD FEUD GONE HAYWIRE AT HOGWARTS?

By Rita Skeeter

“Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial visitor decisions, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Over the summer of this year it was decided that the Triwizard Tournament was to be held at Hogwarts to many parents’ dismay as their children were entered into the Tournament without their permission. The Tournament is notorious for the fatalities that it has inflicted among many young unexperienced wizards thirsting for glory. However, this looks responsible and kindly when set beside the fiasco Dumbledore claims to be the Yule Ball.

The Yule Ball, only held upon the year of the Triwizard Tournament, was held upon the Christmas holiday at the school endorsed by Dumbledore and his staff. This year, however, the guest list was not so carefully taken to, endangering the students of three wizarding schools.

A young naïve and foolish fourth year Hogwarts student was taken under the Imperius Curse and forced to do the bidding of the assailant. It seems that this was in place because of a disgrace among pure-blood families. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, this disgrace has largely affected every student in the school along with its visitors claiming it’s “very shameful.”

“I was coerced as well, and my friend Draco Malfoy was only afraid of the blood traitor that he had to play along with her plan unless he too wanted to be cursed,” says Pansy Parkinson, another fourth-year student. “We all hate her, but we’re too afraid of her family to say anything,”

Y/n Lupine has no intention of ending this scourge of disgrace and intimidation, however. In conversation with her family, she admitted manipulating Mr. Malfoy in what she has dubbed the “Consentire Animi Pace,” an outdated excuse for coercion from a desperate lover. This bond, however, is overlooked by the Ministry, and they have not confirmed that there has been a case in over four hundred years. Lupine, however, considers herself to be above such petty notions.

The Consentire Animi Pace was an old tradition that has faded into prophecy and is a poor excuse for the forceful attitude from Lupine. Not but a few months prior to the Ball she and Mr. Malfoy blatantly hated another. “They were at each other’s throats,” Another student comments. “It was a peaceful day when they didn’t see each other,”

So how did these two, descendants of powerful pure-blood rivals go from enemies to lovers at a Ball in a matter of months? Some suspect the use of the Imperius Curse inflicted upon Malfoy by Lupine against his will. It is known that the students of Hogwarts were taught the Unforgivable Curses in class weeks before the two ‘lovers’ got together. The relationship of Lupine and Malfoy are frowned upon by Malfoy’s parents. “She is a filthy blood-traitor and has seduced my son into this relationship for her own personal gain. It is known that the Lupines always held a grudge against the Malfoys. This must be a new tactic for a new generation.””

.......................

My hands shook as I finished reading the article.

“Are you kidding me!?” I screeched. “Who... how does she even...” I exclaimed and threw the paper down, pacing the common room, Harry, Ron, and Hermione’s eyes on my frantic form.

“No one believes it,” Hermione clarified quickly. “Everyone here knows what really happened,” 

“Do they?” I snapped. “Do they really?”

She looked down and I took a deep breath, rubbing my face. My thoughts spiraled. Everyone in the wizarding world would be reading this and apparently make me out to me some sort of whore of Babylon trying to seduce Draco to be with me.

“I... I have to find him,” I realized. “I...”

“Y/n, just think about this a moment,” Hermione interjected. “This Skeeter woman is out there, and as soon as she knows you ran to Draco after reading her piece, what is she going to think?”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about what she thinks!” I screamed.

They all stared at me in shock and a few lingering first years scurried away—I never cursed, in front of anyone, ever.

“Y/n,” Harry began.

I narrowed my eyes at him letting him know he was on thin ice.

“Take my invisibility cloak and map. Go find him.” The olive branch startled me.

“What?”

“I know what it’s like to be talked about in papers.” He sympathized. “You don’t deserve this. Not after what you did, or rather didn’t do,”

I wanted to cry at his words.

“Thank you, Harry,” I got out, sinking back onto the sofa as he went up to his room to collect the promised items.

I went to pick up the article again, to reread it, but Hermione stopped me, taking it from my hands.

“You don’t need to reread it and get worked up again,” She chided softly. 

“I’m sorry I yelled,” I whispered, glancing over at her.

“It’s alright. I’m just as furious as you are. That... cow of a woman.” Hermione shook her head. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this alright?”

I nodded and my eyes darted up as Harry came back, placing the map and cloak in my hands.

“You know how to work the map?” He clarified.

I nodded, fastening the cloak around my shoulders and taking out my wand.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” I muttered darkly, tapping the map, watching the paper come to life. “Thank you, Harry, he’d appreciate it too,”

“Just go,” He ushered, and I was off under the safety of the cloak led by the marauder’s map.

It didn’t take long for me to find Draco. His footsteps showed me that he was just outside of Snape’s office and heading my way. He probably went straight to Snape about the article and didn’t have the two cents from his friends about tact.

“Mischief managed,” I hissed before tucking the map into my robe.

Rushing down the chilly hallways, I hissed Draco’s name before grabbing his hand and pulling him under the cloak, quickly covering his mouth before he could scream in surprise or fear. He relaxed when his eyes landed on me. Nodding, I dropped my hand.

“Y/n, I swear I’ll fix this,” He hissed softly. “That Skeeter is going to regret ever messing with me and hurting you.”

“Draco, we don’t exactly have a lot of power here,” I argued. “With your father against us as well as this Skeeter, whatever we say, will be twisted and it’ll get worse.” That was the hopeless thought that dragged me down. “We really can’t fix this,”

“So, what do we do? I won’t let her do this to you or your family!” He insisted.

Shushing him, I took his hand and led him down the hallway to the Gryffindor Portrait. Unveiling myself from the cloak, I said the password and the portrait opened.

“Go,” I hissed softly, praying that Draco got the hint as I lingered about half a minute then hopefully followed him through the door, closing it behind me.

“I didn’t mean bring him here!” Harry huffed as I handed back his cloak and map.

“Sorry,” I gave a weak smile. “But I don’t feel safe talking about anything outside in the halls.”

“Do you understand what you’ve done?” Hermione nearly shrieked. “What’s going to happen when Skeeter finds out that Draco’s been in here at night? What were you thinking!?”

Dread weighed like a thick blanket over me. I sank into a chair and stared at the fire, not seeing a way out of this.

“Lay off!” Draco scolded, kneeling beside me. “She can’t spend every moment questioning everything she does!” He defended me, taking my hand and rubbing it softly.

“I wasn’t saying that she should—” Hermione began and was silenced by a cold glare from Draco. I could almost hear the insults that he wanted to hurl at her, like they were tangible.

“It’s okay Dray,” I soothed. “She’s worried and looking out for me. They all are. Please... don’t fight. I can’t handle fighting right now,” My voice was shaky as fear played like a broken record in my mind.

I stood, Draco rising with me, his hands resting at my waist, an anchor in the midst of this hell storm. I laid my head on his shoulder as silent tears slipped out. Hermione was at my other side, rubbing my arm.

“We’ll sort this out Y/n,” Harry promised.

“I’m so stupid,” I mumbled. “This is all my fault,”

“This is not your fault,” Four voices joined together.

“It’s this wretched Skeeter woman,” Hermione hissed. 

“And my father,” Draco snarled, his grip on me tightening.

I could feel the anger and betrayal radiating off of him. We hadn’t really talked about his father’s hand in all of this. I didn’t want to bring it up and he didn’t want to mention it, so it left us at an impasse. Maybe we should have talked about it sooner.

I wiped my tears away and took a deep breath.

“Okay, so what are we going to do?” I asked, turning to my group of friends.

“You could give her an interview,” Ron suggested.

“No, she couldn’t,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Whatever Y/n says is going to be used against her,”

“We can write to the paper, tell them that it’s wrong,” Harry pointed out.

“And how bad will that look on us?” I retorted. “New headline ‘Seductress tries to cover the truth.’ No, I don’t think... I don’t think there is anything we can do,”

“What?”

“I... I can’t do anything, we as a group can’t. All I can do is hold my head high and know who I am and what’s true,” I intertwined my fingers with Draco’s.

He gave my hand a gentle squeeze as impressed looks fell upon their faces.

“Well, I know that Skeeter is banned from school grounds, so just be careful I guess,” Ron chimed in.

I nodded and took a deep breath.

“You won’t be alone, Y/n,” Draco remarked. “I’ll be here, we all will,” His eyes swept the room. “We know who you are too,”

I nodded.

“And that’s all that matters,” I whispered weakly.

It was easier said than done, however. After taking Draco to his dorm under the cloak and heading back, curling up into bed, I finally broke down into tears, each of Rita’s words like a stab to the heart. It tore me up inside of how cruel she was to me, and I had never even met her. Hermione, if she heard my cries through my pillow, didn’t prattle me. Instead, she left me in peace to fall apart, and I was grateful.

The next morning, McGonagall called me to her office, to get the true story and to reinforce that I was not alone here at school, and if I needed anything to come to her and she would see that it was done. It took a lot for me not to break down in tears again in her office. With a biscuit she sent me off to breakfast.

Then the mail started to come in. From people I didn’t know and addresses I didn’t recognize. I didn’t dare to open any of them. Instead they were thrown into the fireplace without a second thought. The only letters I opened were from my mother or Mrs. Weasley, or anyone I knew well enough to care about what they thought. Most offered their sympathies. My mother was furious, as to be expected, but I wrote her back quickly before she did anything rash.

The fear always lingered, however. And with Pansy still miraculously walking the halls of Hogwarts, I felt smaller than ever. I hesitated to hold Draco’s hand or show any form of affection towards him. I know he didn’t hold it against me, but it was a new layer of guilt on my soul.

_____________________________

Draco gave you a week to find a new sort of normal and to stop moping—not that he’d tell you that’s what you were doing because you’d argue with him, but you were moping.

It was that Monday morning that he had enough. You were fine with doing nothing and taking all of the hate and living in fear, but he wasn’t. It killed him to see your flame so dull. He missed you, the real you. Not whatever front you were putting up.

So, after writing a very strongly worded letter to his father and mother alike, he took your hand on the way from breakfast and pulled you to the trail that led to Hogsmeade. You had said you weren’t going, but he wasn’t having that. You were his girlfriend and hell be damned if he wasn’t going to show you off.

“Draco, no,” Your voice wavered in fear. “I can’t.” 

He turned and cradled your face in his hands.

“This fear needs to stop my love,” He crooned softly. “I miss you, the real you. I hate that she’s doing this to you. Please, go out with me. Let me show you off and buy you ridiculously expensive things and overpriced chocolates, that you won’t eat because you don’t like chocolate,” He amended quickly.

A smile played at your lips, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes yet.

“Please Y/n, I don’t want you to be afraid. I want you to be with me, I want to kiss you in public and have you on my arm. I want you to be my girl and I want everyone else to know that. I don’t give a damn about what the papers say. You’re mine and I love you and I’m not letting you mope anymore,” He panted softly, awaiting your response. “Please go out with me today,”

You blinked slowly, as if you were clearing away the haze in your eyes as you beamed up at him, jumping into his arms.

“I don’t want anything that expensive,” You muttered, and he laughed, the first time that he had a week. “Let me go get my jacket and what not and we’ll go,”

He waited for you outside the common room and you came out, wrapped in his scarf, the jacket and gloves from your mother and snow boots on that had to be new.

Offering his arm, he grinned as the two of you made your way down the hall cozied up together, smiles on the faces of those you passed.

“Long live the prince and princess!” George shouted as you two walked past him and Fred on your way to Hogsmeade.

A laugh escaped your lips for the first time since the article came out and it was the most wonderful thing that Draco had ever heard. You looked up at him, snow on your eyelashes, your nose and cheeks pink from the cold. You were beautiful when you smiled, and he would never take it for granted again.

______________________________

Draco and I ducked into Madam Puddifoot's tea shop and I welcomed the warmth with open arms. For the first time, the article faded from my mind and I allowed myself to be happy with Draco—even though he did order me a ridiculously expensive tea and so many little cakes. To be honest, they were the most enjoyable things I’d had in a long while.

The company was quite enjoyable as well. Now that I wasn’t... moping (I’ll admit it, I was) I realized what Draco had meant by missing the ‘real’ me. I could tease and taunt him, then go red when he’d take it a bit too far and make it slightly inappropriate, before kissing me softly as an apology.

We strolled about Hogsmeade, when my eyes lingered on a storefront for a bit too long, Draco would pull me inside and let me look around. I was cautious to pick things up however, in fear that he might actually take up on his words and buy me things.

However, I tripped up on my caution as a miniature Spindle Tree grew beautifully in Dogweed’s shop window, victim to a shrinking spell, but all the beautiful just the same. Draco rolled his eyes, smiling, dragging me inside, letting me cradle the small plant as he paid for it. The shop tender assured me that it would grow in any conditions and if I had any problems to bring it back.

“I think I’ll name her Susan,” I mused, holding the small pink plant to the sun. “What do you think?”

“You’re going to name it?” He laughed.

“Of course,” I grinned. “So... Susan?”

“Sure love,” He chuckled, wrapping an arm around me. “Whatever you want,”

.

.

Part 16?

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