#a) why would you want to date a man who's professed first interest is marvel l | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fanmoose12 · 4 years ago

Text

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.

No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.

Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 3/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Levi stared at Hange intently. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, the flutter of her eyelashes, the movement of her eyes, the way she gripped the teacup in her fingers and slowly put it to her lips, taking a first sip.

He leaned closer, pressing his elbows into the table. He anxiously waited to hear out her verdict.

"So?" he pressed after almost a minute passed and Hange still hadn't said anything.

She put the teacup down and smiled.

"I really want to say it's bad, I was actually looking forward to that date—"

"But?" Levi interrupted, impatient and hopeful.

Hange sighed, dropping the smile. "But it's delicious. I don't think I've tasted anything better."

"Yes!" Levi knew it. He was once again proven right - no one could resist a good cup of tea, those coffee addicts just didn't know better.

"Well, thanks for opening my eyes..." Hange stood up, reaching for her coat.

"Oi." Levi scowled. What the fuck was she doing? "Sit your ass back down."

"Pardon?"

"You haven't finished your tea, idiot," upon seeing the confused look that appeared on detective's face, Levi's lips curled into a smirk. He hid it behind his own cup of tea.

"Oh," Hange plopped down on a seat again, grinning helplessly. "Yes, sorry, I forgot about it."

Levi rolled his eyes, subduing a wave of affection that spread through him because of her awkwardness.

Hange Zoe in front of him was very different from the detective's persona he had seen glimpses of before. Detective Zoe was fierce, she was daring and dedicated to her work to the point of obsession. Hange he got to know today was clumsy. She was awkward, but not shy. She was funny and kind.

An interesting contrast. Levi wanted to know more.

They drank their tea in silence. Hange was smiling slightly, as she looked around the café Levi had brought her in. Levi watched her beneath his eyelashes.

The silence wasn't tense or uncomfortable, it was simply there, and at any other day, Levi would have appreciated it.

Right now, however, there was something he needed to say.

He cleared his throat. Hange's eyes immediately snapped to him.

"A new movie theater was opened recently," he took a sip of his tea, resisting the urge to fidget. "Have you heard about it?"

"I have not," she answered, and her tone of voice made it clear that she was prompting him to continue.

Levi took another sip of tea. The cup was almost empty.

"There is going to be a movie marathon this Friday. Wanna go? Together."

His voice was nonchalant and his face was blank. Nothing betrayed his feelings. But his heart was beating so loudly, Levi was worried it could jump out of his chest.

The voice of reason in his head continued to scream, begging him to stand up and leave. Levi stopped listening to it long ago. For whatever reason - be it his curiosity or a desire to find out what she knew about them - he wanted to see Hange again. One trip to a cinema wouldn't hurt. Probably.

"What the theme of the marathon?" Hange asked, gripping the cup with her two hands and leaning closer to him. She looked just like an over-excited puppy. Levi almost smiled at that comparison.

"They’re showing those Police Academy movies,” he replied casually. That poster, actually, was the only reason he noticed the advertisement about new movie theater. He saw it and instantly thought of Hange. That was also the reason why he remembered about it.

"Oh," Hange blinked. "That's quite a coincidence. I actually work at the local police precinct."

I know, Levi almost said. He bit the inside of his cheek, forcing on a surprised expression.

"You do?" he asked, adding wonder to his voice. He hoped it was convincing enough. He wasn’t a particularly good liar, even though his profession as a thief more than required it. The most Levi could do was put the mask of indifference. He had perfected this technique to such a degree that showing, or even mimicking, different kinds of emotions was almost impossible for him. Kenny always made fun of that.

Hange, however, continued to wear the same relaxed expression, leading Levi to believe that his act had its desired effect on her.

"Yeah, I'm working as a detective."

“Oh,” Levi slightly widened his eyes, before he pursed his lips and frowned. "If you don't like this kind of movies..."

"Oh, no, no," Hange frantically waved her hands around. "I adore them! They are utterly ridiculous and always get everything about police's work wrong and that's why they're so fun to watch! I could get carried away with my comments, however," she tucked a loose hair behind her ear.

"What I'm getting myself into." Levi complained dryly, eliciting a delightful chuckle out of Hange.

"You were the one who offered. It's too late to back out, shorty."

"I could just stand you up."

"No, you couldn't," Hange said confidently. She propped her chin on a hand, looking at Levi with a knowing smile. "You're too nice."

Her words almost made him wince. He wasn't nice. And if Hange knew who he truly was, she definitely wouldn't think so.

Underneath the table, Levi tightened his hand into a fist. The last thought bothered him more than he could admit.

"Fuck you, I’m not nice," he growled, letting out the ounce of the frustration that phrase caused him.

Hange raised an eyebrow. "Fuck me? Aren't we moving a little too fast?"

Under her mischievous gaze, Levi's ears swiftly grew red. Hange threw her head back and laughed.

"Oh god, you should have seen your face!" she pointed a finger at him, still laughing. Levi's scowl deepened. And to think he felt bad for lying to her. "You look like such a cool and badass man, but it's so easy to embarrass you!"

"I'm not embarrassed," Levi retorted, even though he could feel the blush spread onto his cheeks too.

"Alright, alright," Hange raised her hands, placating him. "I'm sorry for teasing. You still wanna watch movies with me?"

"I was the one who offered," Levi repeated her words, shrugging.

"Awesome!" Hange clasped her hands. She grabbed her bag and rummaged through it, fishing out a pen. She took a hold of Levi's hand next, and before he could protest, started writing on it with her sharpie.

"There," once she was finished, she patted his arm. "You can text me the details."

Levi stared down on his arm, not knowing how to react. On one hand, he hated when other people touched him, especially the ones he just met. On the other, the realization that Hange gave him his number caused a weird flatter in his chest. He almost felt giddy.

"Well, should we go?" Hange asked. "It's getting late."

"Sure," Levi nodded, getting up and passing Hange her coat.

He wanted to offer to walk her home, but before he could open his mouth to ask, his phone started ringing. Levi looked at the screen and groaned.

Of course, it was Kenny.

"Won't you answer it?" Hange wondered, when Levi just put his phone back in his pocket.

"There is no need," he shook his head. "It's my uncle, he probably wants to know what's taking me so long."

"Ah, you live with your uncle," Hange cooed. "How cute."

"Nothing cute about it. He's an old man who enjoys annoying me," he looked up at Hange, a smirk curling on his lips. "You and him definitely have something in common, four-eyes."

Hange froze instantly and Levi cursed himself. Idiot, he was a goddamn idiot. Why did he call her that? It was the same nickname he used to tease her in the little notes he left after each theft. Of course, Hange would react to that, he was just too stupid to realize it before he opened his goddamn mouth.

He had to rectify his mistake, and fast. Levi drew his eyebrows together, feigning concern.

"Hange? Did I say something wrong?"

"No," she waved him off with a smile. Levi wondered if his expression looked just as fake as Hange's. "I just have... an acquaintance who calls me the same nickname. It made me think of him, that's all."

"He's not a nice guy, I take it," Levi hummed, trying to ignore his rapidly beating heart.

"He's not." Hange agreed, anger evident in her voice. "Well, thank you for the evening," she reached out to pat his shoulder, and, although, the smile was still present on her lips, there was a faraway look in her eyes. "But I need to go. I'll be waiting for your text!"

Hange was gone, before Levi could utter a single word. He didn’t move for a few moments, staring at the place she just had been.

There was a weird feeling inside him. If he didn’t know better, he’d say it was shame.

*** Hange tiptoed around the precinct, picking her route through the most secluded hallways. She had to be careful, she didn’t want to get noticed by any of her co-workers. Especially, by Erwin.

She needed to get inside her office before he noticed her. Before he noticed her absence, to be precise.

She was never late to work. She usually came earlier than the most and always went home after everyone else had left.

Today was an exception, though. She slept in for the first time in years and then she also made a detour to visit the café Levi showed her last night and order that delicious, delicious tea on the go.

She would have never guessed that simple tea could taste so good, but Levi had opened her eyes. And he had helped in lifting her spirits. Levi was a little strange - he seemed rude and indifferent, but Hange felt that behind this facade hid a kind and honest man. He was also incredibly funny. His humor, although sarcastic, dry and so very different from hers, was more than just enjoyable. She couldn't remember when she had so much fun. Or hanged out with someone, who wasn't a part of the force. She was looking forward to their date at the movies. And she hoped it wouldn't be the last one.

Too lost in her thoughts about newly found friend, Hange forgot to look where she was going. So it took her by a surprise when her forehead had almost collided with someone's chin. She cursed under her breath, it happened for the second time in two days. She was getting too clumsy and absent-minded lately. It was probably due to constant exhaustion and sleep-deprivation. Perhaps, she shouldn’t have ignored Erwin’s advices about taking a break for so long.

Hange lifted her gaze – and Erwin was staring back at her.

“Speak of the devil,” she muttered, too soft for him to hear. Then she took a step back and put on a smile. She hoped it didn't look too forced. "Oh, it's you, Erwin. Hi."

"Good morning," he narrowed his eyes, looking at Hange from head to toe. "Why aren't you in your office? Your shift has already started."

"Yeah..." Hange scratched the back of her neck with a wince. "About that..."

"No way," Erwin raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Hange, you are late?"

"Only by fifteen minutes..." she mumbled, casting her eyes down.

"But you're never late!" Erwin continued to gawk. "And what is that?" he gestured at the cup in Hange's hands with a confused look. "It doesn’t look like coffee from the precinct's vending machine.”

"It's actually tea..."

"What?" Erwin exclaimed. "You're drinking tea? But you hate it!" he leaned closer to Hange's face, staring into her eyes. "Who are you and what did you do with Hange Zoe?"

"Very funny, Erwin," Hange pushed him away with an annoyed huff. "It's just tea, no need to freak out. And since we're already talking, I have a favor. Can I leave early on Friday?"

"You... want to leave early?" Erwin asked carefully. "You?"

Hange rolled her eyes. "Yes. Me. Can I?"

"You're always working after hours, so, of course, you can leave early, I see no problem with that. But, Hange, may I ask why do you need to do it?"

She shrugged. "I have a date."

Erwin choked. "A date?" his eyes went almost comically wide. "You are going on a date?!"

Hange was getting tired of this conversation. "Yes, I am going on a date. Is it so hard to imagine?"

"It's just very, um," Erwin cleared his throat, picking up the right word. "Uncharacteristic of you. You're so focused on your work, it’s actually quite surprising that you’ve noticed someone else, whose last name isn’t Ackerman. Your date must be really special then."

"We've met just yesterday,” Hange revealed with a dreamy sigh. She took a sip of tea and the corners of her lips slightly lifted. “So I’m yet to see if he’s special or not.”

"Well, I'm happy for you," Erwin smiled, clasping her shoulder. "It's good to know that you're taking interest in something, besides Ackerman case. You are so obsessed with it, I was starting to worry."

"You can stop now," Hange chuckled. "Last night I wasn’t thinking about Ackermans at all."

Hange decided not to mention the accident at the end, when Levi had called her 'four-eyes'. She didn't know why she had overreacted. It was a common nickname, kids at school was calling her that since second grade. But they weren't Ackermans. And, obviously, Levi wasn't Ackerman as well. He was just a simple, regular guy. Hange liked that, last night was a nice change from her usual routine. Maybe, Erwin was right in that regard too. Maybe, she did need a distraction.

"It's always nice to have a chat with you," Hange grinned, putting thoughts about Levi to the back of her mind. "But the work doesn't wait. I'll see you around, Erwin!"

As she made a way to her office, a slight spring in her step, the phone vibrated in her pocket, announcing a new message. Hange took it out, reading the text.

Friday, six pm by the movie theatre?

Hange typed ‘can’t wait!’ and entered the office with a wide, happy smile on her face.

*** Grey or blue? Or maybe black? Tuck the shirt in or not? Should he style his hair? Would a tie be too much? Should he wear a coat or would his blazer be enough? Wasn't he overdressed? Was he dressed too casually?

Would Hange like his appearance?

Levi ran a hand through his hair and tsked in annoyance. He was probably overthinking this whole thing. No, he was definitely overthinking it.

Getting ready for the date wasn't supposed to be so hard. Levi had been on dates before, he knew how to do it. Granted, his previous dates weren't actually real, but always a part of Kenny's many rouses.

There was one time, where he had to seduce a casino employee to steal a key card that would get them into the vault. And then there was a time, where he had to take a grieving widow on a date so Kenny could rob her house, while she was absent.

Levi didn't enjoy either of those times, he felt uneasy, but that feeling was caused purely by the fact that he was lying to all of these people. He was never anxious, even though his seducing skills left much to be desired.

Everything was different this time. Levi was aware that technically this date wasn't real too. He was lying to Hange, just as he was lying to all of his previous dates. But that wasn't the main basis for his state. He was nervous about meeting Hange. He was nervous she wouldn't like him.

It made absolutely no sense. Hange was his enemy, a detective who wanted to get him behind bars more than anything. He saw it in her eyes yesterday, her desire and hatred towards Ackermans were transparent. And it bothered him more that it should.

Levi banged his head against the door of a wardrobe, wondering what the fuck was going on with him. When it came to Hange, he couldn't think straight and his usual indifference was nowhere to be found.

He wondered when it had all begun.

Did it happen, when he had seen Hange for the first time? When she was pacing around the house they've robbed, wearing a murderous expression and barking at every policeman? Levi still remembered the feeling of satisfaction he felt upon seeing her frustrations.

Or had it started after he had written his first note to her? He lingered at the scene of the crime that day, pretending to be a janitor. When Hange noticed a small note near the empty slot of the painting they've stolen, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. Her eyebrows formed a line on her forehead, as she read the contents. Once she was done, she whirled around, as though looking for the person who had left the note. Levi had barely stopped himself from laughing then. He had to leave the place in a hurry after that. If someone had seen his reaction, it wouldn't be that hard to put two and two even for the dense policemen.

Or did it happen last evening, when he made eye contact with Hange for the first time? When he got a glimpse of the other side of fierce detective? When he saw a kind, endearing person underneath that façade?

Levi banged his head again. He was going crazy.

He considered hitting his head against the wooden surface for the third time, when Kenny appeared on the threshold of his room.

"Oi, kid," he crossed hands on his chest and tilted his head, studying Levi curiously. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Yes. But it's none of your business."

"When you say things like that, Levi," Kenny walked further into a room, coming to stand just behind Levi's shoulder. His lips curled into a smirk as he saw the variety of shirts that hanged on the door of the wardrobe. "It only makes me more curious. So, what's up?"

Levi pinched the bridge of his nose with fingers. He knew that he had to tell Kenny at least a portion of the truth. Otherwise, his uncle would find out the other way, and then he would know the whole truth. And Levi really didn't want Kenny to know he was going on a date with a detective.

Yes, he had to tell him about his date, Levi was aware of that. He was also aware of the reaction his words would have on Kenny. He already dreaded it.

"I'm going out," Levi told in a strained voice. He winced, preparing for what was coming. The bomb was going to explode any second. "On a date."

"A date?" Kenny repeated loudly, staring at Levi like he had grown a second head.

"Check your hearing, old man. Yes." Levi glowered. "I'm going on a date."

"You... are going on a... a date," Kenny spoke slowly. "With a real person?"

"Unbelievable, isn't it?" Levi asked sarcastically.

"I can't quite believe it, yes," Kenny agreed, surprisingly honest. He took a few steps back and plopped down on a chair, observing Levi underneath his eyelashes. "And who is that unfortunate soul?"

"We've met a few days ago. Went out for a coffee, then agreed to see each other again and go to the movies."

Kenny whistled. "Not bad, Levi. You going on a date with someone on your own volition, not because I made you. Huh, I'm impressed. When are you going to bring them home? I want to meet them."

“Never,” Levi retorted harshly. “You’ll scare her off.”

Kenny guffawed. “Levi, if she survived an evening with you, she isn’t going to be even fazed by me.”

Well… Maybe, Kenny was right. Levi wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of admitting it, though.

“If you don't have anything else to say, then get the fuck out.” He told him, turning back to the wardrobe. “I'm in a hurry."

"No respect for his elders," Kenny muttered, shaking his head. He stood up and headed to the door. Just before he reached it, he stopped and looked at the collection of Levi's shirts. He studied them for a moment.

"Pick the blue one," he said at last. "It brings out your eyes."

***

Levi paced around the entrance to the movie theater, his expression turning sourer and sourer with each minute. They've agreed to meet at six. It was already a quarter past six. And still there was no sign of Hange.

Had she forgotten? Or, maybe, there was some emergency? And she had no time to notify him?

Perhaps, she had she changed her mind? Had she decided to stand him up?

Levi glanced at his clock again and decided enough was enough. He grabbed his phone and dialed Hange's number.

He waited and waited and waited. No one picked up. He cursed under his breath.

Was the great detective Hange Zoe cowardly enough to tell that she didn't want to see him to his face? Levi refused to believe it.

Putting his phone back into his pocket, he started to walk. Gladly, he knew exactly where his date could be.

Taking a first turn to the left, he headed to the local police precinct. ***

If someone had said to him a week ago that he'd willingly go inside the police precinct, Levi would have called them a fucking idiot. But here he was, and all because of some pesky detective who didn't show up for their date.

With a grim look on his face, Levi approached the reception desk. A blonde woman with short hair was sitting there, her eyes focused on a computer screen.

Levi cleared his throat to gain her attention.

Looking up, the woman graced him with a polite smile. "How can I help you, sir?"

"Where I can find detective Zoe?"

The woman continued to smile, but a cautious look appeared inside her eyes. "May I ask why do you need her?"

Levi hesitated, not knowing what to say. Should he call himself Hange's date? Or should he come up with another explanation?

He was spared from giving a straight answer by a tall man with sandy hair and very impressive moustache.

Paying no attention to Levi, the man put his elbows on the reception desk, leaning over it.

"Hey, Nana, are you finished already?"

"Almost," the woman whispered, not taking her eyes off Levi. "I just need to deal with the gentleman over here first."

"Oh?" the man turned to Levi, looking him from head to toe. "And who is this?"

"I'm looking for detective Hange Zoe." Levi stated firmly. The man was looming over him, a full head taller than him, but Levi stared him right in the eyes, despite the growing discomfort in his neck area. What a fucking giant, he thought angrily, feeling the muscles in his neck stiffen.

"You're looking for Hange?" the man scratched his chin with a raised brow. "Oh! You must be the infamous thief!"

What?

Levi's heart stopped. He felt the ground disappear from underneath him, as he struggled to make sense of the current situation. So the police already knew? Was it an elaborate plan to make him come right into their hands? Had Hange known the truth since the very beginning? Was he the one who was being played, not the other way around?

His head reeling and his thoughts mashing together, Levi thought about turning around and bolting out of here. Maybe, he'd get lucky and be able to escape. He could use his intimate knowledge of the city's streets, make cops lose him in the labyrinth of back alleys.

Through a fog around his mind, Levi heard the man's chuckle. Instinctively, he turned his head to the direction the sound came from, listening more closely.

"Nana, that's him! The man who stole our beloved Hange's heart!"

What?

"Oh," the woman smiled, tilting her head to study Levi more closely. The suspicion was gone from her gaze almost instantly. "My god, you're right! Short, dark-haired and with a scowl on his face! He looks just like Hange described him."

Hange had described him? Hange talked about him? With her colleagues? And she called him short?

Levi didn’t know what to think of it all, getting even more confused than before.

"Let's go, Romeo," with a short laugh, the tall man threw an arm over Levi's shoulder. "I'll lead you to your Juliette."

***

"I'm Mike, by the way," the giant extended his hand to Levi.

"Levi," he nodded, shaking the offered hand.

"Oh, I know this already," Mike smirked. "It's the only thing our division talks about."

"Me?"

"Your date with Hange," he clarified. "Don’t take it the wrong way. We just worry about Hange a lot. Ever since she took the Ackermans’ case, she became quite obsessed with it. So we’re all glad that she finally took interest in something else.”

"Ackermans’ case? What’s that?" Levi asked, trying to goad Mike into revealing some kind of information. "I’ve never heard of it."

“You haven’t? I thought it’s the talk of the whole city. Either way, I'm sure Hange will fill you in in no time. It's one of her favorite topics nowadays."

His attempt obviously failed, so Levi merely grunted, hoping this kind of answer would suffice.

"We're almost here," Mike announced, turning the corner. "Before you go, I just want to say something." Levi looked up at Mike, picking up a slight shift in his tone. It wasn't as friendly anymore. "We all like Hange very much, so if you hurt her..."

"Got it," Levi swallowed, the feeling of shame weighing down on him. He didn't want to hurt Hange. He knew he was most probably going to.

“And another thing,” Mike mumbled, leaning closer to him. With wide eyes, Levi watched how the man started sniffing him, his nostrils flaring. “Yeah, you’re alright,” he concluded with a satisfied smirk. “A bit weird, but alright.” Mike clasped him on a back, his strong hand almost made Levi stumble. "That's Hange's office," he gestured at the door with Hange's name written on it and then left, humming under his breath.

Levi watched him go, wondering what the fuck had just happened. Had the man really sniffed him? What was that about? Should he be concerned? Honored? He should definitely ask Hange about it.

Shaking his head, he brushed the invisible dirt from his blazer. He breathed in, preparing himself, and then knocked on the door.

"Come in!" someone yelled from the other side. Levi instantly recognized Hange's deep voice.

He opened the door and entered. Hange gasped.

"Levi!” she jumped to her feet, almost knocking back the chair in the process. “Oh god, I'm so sorry! Our date! I forgot about it!"

All annoyance Levi had felt up to this moment had disappeared the moment he saw how embarrassed Hange was. She seemed genuinely ashamed and Levi couldn’t find it in himself to stay angry any longer. Although, he still couldn't pass an opportunity to tease her a bit more.

"I thought you decided to stand me up." He said in the saddest voice he could master. It wasn't that different from his usual one, but Hange's reaction was priceless.

"No! I would never, I just forgot about time, I'm—"

"It seems like I'm largely at fault here."

Levi blinked, as a tall blonde man came into his view. He recognized him right away, Captain Erwin Smith was as imposing in person, as he was on Levi's phone screen. Was he present in the room since Levi had entered it? Despite his quite large figure, up until he announced his presence, Levi didn't notice him at all.

"Hange, you may go, since your gentleman is already waiting," Erwin smiled, standing up from a chair across from Hange’s desk. "We'll finish tomorrow."

"Alright!" Hange waved her hand in Erwin’s general direction, too busy with gathering her belongings.

Watching her frantic moves, Erwin let out a soft chuckle. “She’s really excited about your date,” he whispered to Levi. “I’m Erwin Smith, Hange’s Captain.”

“Levi,” he let out his surname, for obvious reasons. “Hange’s… friend.”

“Take care of her, alright?” despite the warm smile and easy expression, Erwin’s blue eyes bored into Levi with surprising intensity. If he wasn’t so good at concealing his emotions, Levi would have squirmed under the heavy gaze.

“And bring her home before ten!” Erwin added, raising his voice, so Hange could hear him.

“Just go already!” Hange snapped, glaring at him. “Stop embarrassing me!”

Erwin laughed, but obeyed, heading to the door. Before he walked out, he gave Levi another look. This one was a little less hostile than his previous one, but it was just as successful in making Levi feel uneasy. Erwin Smith was a sharp and dangerous man. Levi hoped it was their last meeting.

“What’s taking you so long?” Levi grumbled, as he approached Hange’s desk. She was looking for something, opening drawer after drawer and shifting through their contents.

“I can’t find my phone!” she whined, forcefully pushing another drawer shut.

“That’s why you didn’t answer my calls,” Levi guessed, as he pretended to join Hange’s search. He started looking through the papers on her desk, his eyes going over them quickly. Most of it was regular paperwork, reports from Hange’s patrols and other boring stuff. One file caught his attention, though. It was a case from 1988. What Hange could need it for? His fingers twitched to open and read the whole thing, his mind scrambling to explain, how it could be linked to him and Kenny.

He didn’t want to raise any suspicious, though. So with a heavy heart, Levi laid the case file down and continued to search for Hange’s phone.

“Got it!” Hange fished the phone from underneath the table. “Must have fallen down somewhere during the day. Ah, and it was on silent, so that’s why I didn’t hear your calls. Sorry about that,” she added sheepishly.

“It’s fine,” Levi said. “You have an important job, I get it.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” Hange promised, as she put on her coat. “Are we too late already?"

"We are," Levi confirmed grimly. "Good thing it's a marathon, we can still be in time for a movie or two."

"Let’s hurry then!” Hange linked their hands together and dragged Levi along with her.

***

"Did you enjoy the movies?" Levi asked, after they left the cinema auditorium.

"Yes!" Hange answered, nodding enthusiastically. "They were great!"

"But you were complaining all the time," Levi noted, taking an empty bucket of popcorn from her hands and throwing it out in the trashcan.

"Well, there were a lot of inaccuracies in these movies. And most of the things these guys did would get me fired, or worse, earn me a very strict verbal reprimanding from Erwin. But yeah, I still had fun watching them. Did you?"

"Maybe, I would have," Levi shrugged. "If you had shut your mouth for at least a second."

"I warned you," Hange smiled, unfazed by his rude tone.

She did. And, truthfully, despite his bitching Levi actually enjoyed himself at the movies too. He was sure that whatever plot was unraveling on a screen wasn't even half as amusing as Hange's hilarious commentary.

As he walked through the movie theater's hallway with Hange by his side, Levi felt unusually content. Hange's company was unexpectedly pleasant.

Once they left the theatre and walked outside, however, Levi's good mood disappeared without a trace.

It was snowing. Big, fluffy snowflakes slowly descended from the sky, haphazardly falling down to the ground. The city around them was covered in snow and Levi involuntary shuddered, feeling the cold seeping into his bones, and then spread right to his heart.

"Levi?" Hange laid a hand on his elbow, her face and voice equally concerned. "Is everything alright?"

Shaking off his stupor, Levi nodded.

"Sure," he slumped his shoulders slightly, staring right ahead. "Just a bit colder than I expected to."

"Oh. Do you want to go home then?"

"It's up to you. Is there something you want to go?"

"There is one place," Hange said enigmatically. "It's not far from here. And I know just the way to keep you warm."

Levi raised an eyebrow, curious.

With a playful grin, Hange took his hand, interlaced their fingers and hid their joined palms inside the pocket of her coat.

"Better now?" she asked.

"Just a little," he mumbled, turning his face away to hide his embarrassment.

Judging by the soft look in her eyes and her slightly wider smile, Hange was able to see right through him.

“Let’s go before I freeze to death,” Levi grunted, dead set on keeping up his rude exterior.

*** The place Hange had led him to was just a walking distance away. While they strolled through the city, she seamlessly filled the silence with her chatter. She talked about anything and everything. She complained about her noisy colleagues, told him how she nearly burned her breakfast this morning, because she almost fell asleep in the shower, and shared her thoughts on a movie Levi had never even heard about.

He didn't participate in the conversation, only offering different kinds of grunts from time to time, but Hange didn't seem to mind.

Levi was grateful to her all the same, Hange's babbling, even though, a bit silly, helped him take his mind off certain things, memories he didn't wish to relive today. And her hand that was still holding his kept him grounded, forcing him to focus on his sensations.

"And here we are!" Hange exclaimed, stopping in front of the entrance to the park.

Levi looked around, appreciating the view. The park wasn't big, but it was away from busy streets. It was practically empty too, save for a couple of joggers and a few dog owners. Most importantly, it was quiet. Levi liked that.

He turned to face Hange, meaning to thank her for bringing him here. But when he looked to the side, Hange wasn't there. She was crouched a few steps away from him. There was wide, mischievous smile on her face and Levi instinctively took a step back, glaring at her.

"No," he warned. "Don't you dare—"

He didn't get to finish his threat, and a snowball that hit him right in the forehead was the reason for it. Levi cursed, furiously wiping snow from his face.

"Run, Hange," he growled, bending over to gather some snow too.

Not needing him to tell twice, Hange sprinted off, laughing joyfully. Levi formed a snowball and rushed after her. As he got closer, he raised his hand and aimed the snowball at Hange. It landed right in the center of her back and Hange yelped.

"That was low even for you, shorty!" she shouted. "Attacking from the back is against rules!"

"I don't remember you setting the rules!" Levi smirked, making another snowball.

He threw it again, but Hange hid behind the tree, evading his attack. She immediately retaliated, staining the front of Levi's blazer with snow.

Hange cackled, celebrating the successful hit. Levi tossed another snowball and again, Hange effortlessly dodged it. Levi decided to switch tactics. Getting to his feet, he ran right at Hange, spreading his arms and circling them around her waist. Using the momentum, he threw Hange on the soft snow, falling on top of her.

"Do you yield?" he asked, staring down at her.

"N-never!" Hange replied, panting. She raised her arms, which Levi, in hindsight, had forgotten to pin down, and pushed Levi's blazer up, revealing his shirt. She laid her hands on his ribs and her fingers started tickling him.

Levi wheezed, pushing her hands away. Hange took this opportunity to flip them over, landing on top of him. Not repeating Levi’s mistake, she pinned down his arms and then secured his hips with her knees.

"Do you yield?" she grinned victoriously.

Hange looked like a mess - hair disheveled, glasses askew, red-cheeked and breathing heavily. Levi couldn't look away.

"Fine, I yield," he grumbled. "Just get off me."

Hange complied almost instantly, falling in the snow next to Levi.

"Oi," Levi huffed, struggling to catch his breath. "Get up. You're going to catch a cold."

“I’ll be fine,” Hange replied lazily.

“Your boss would kill me if you become sick.”

Hange laughed and the joyful sound reverberated through the otherwise silent park. “Erwin scared you, didn’t he? Don’t make him fool you, he’s actually a big softie,” yeah, Levi had some heavy doubts about that. Maybe, Erwin Smith was indeed a softie. But only to Hange and his other co-workers.

“And what about your other friends? That giant of a man, for example.”

“You’ve met Mike!” Hange exclaimed, throwing her hands up. She turned to Levi, watching him with amused eyes. “Did he try to sniff you?”

“He did. What the fuck was that about?”

“It’s just a habit of his, don’t think about it too much. I need to know, though,” Hange moved her face closer to Levi’s, curiosity sparkling in her gaze. “What did he say?”

“Said I was ‘alright’.” Levi grunted.

“Oh! That’s a high praise, coming from him. Yeah, he won’t beat you up, don’t worry,” again, Levi wasn’t sure about that. “Let’s just stay here for a moment. Relax, we only live once, shorty. Enjoy the moment."

Levi's pants and hair were wet and starting to freeze, his fingers felt numb from the cold, but he did, as Hange said, and tried to relax. It was surprisingly easy, he noted, as he raised his gaze to the night sky. No stars were looking back at him, the weather too cloudy to allow for that, but Levi found a strange beauty in that nevertheless. It was quiet, it was calm. He felt at peace.

"How did you find this place?" he asked Hange quietly, wanting to preserve the tranquil atmosphere.

"I used to come here often, as a child. I visited it with my mom almost every weekend. Do you have a special place like this with your mom?"

"My mom died," Levi blurted out.

"Oh," Hange’s face fell. She pushed herself up, resting on her elbow. "Levi, I'm so sorry..."

"Don't be. It happened a long time ago."

"But you still miss her," she softly noted.

“I don’t.” Levi argued stubbornly, trying to keep his stern façade. “And if I did, how would you know about this? We’ve just met. You barely know me.”

“I’m a detective, remember?” Hange reminded. “It’s my job to be observant. You’re a hard nut to crack, Levi, your face is always so scary,” she mimicked Levi’s usual scowl, and he rolled his eyes, biting back a smile. “But your eyes show what you truly feel. And they look so sad. It was the first thing I’ve noticed about you actually."

Levi looked up, meeting her gaze. There was something inside it, it was inviting him, enticing him into trusting Hange with things he had never revealed to anyone.

"It was snowing when she died," he whispered. He closed his eyes and could almost feel it - the cold wind ruffling his hair and bits of snow flying through the open window as he sat next to his mother's dead body, unable to comprehend why she wasn't getting up; the crunching noise his shiny new shoes produced as he walked through the snowy cemetery; the numbness in his hands and legs as he kneeled before her grave, begging her to come back. “That’s why I hate snow so much.”

He knew Hange was watching him closely and she probably had noted the slight trembling that wracked his body. She said nothing, though, just simply took his hand in hers and squeezed it.

Levi was grateful for her silence. He was grateful for her presence.

Hange didn't offer him meaningless words of condolences or fake encouragements. She just held his hand, reminding him that he was not alone.

"Sorry for bringing the mood down," he said after a few more minutes of silence.

Hange smiled, a gentle look in her warm, brown eyes.

"Don't you even think of being embarrassed about this, Levi. I—"

Whatever she was going to say was suddenly interrupted by a loud shrill.

"Excuse me," Hange took out her phone and looked at the screen, grimacing. "I have to take it," she explained and stood up, walking a few steps away.

With detached look, Levi watched how expressions on her face changed. First appeared annoyance, then anger, next came curiosity, before it settled into determination.

Hange put the phone back into her pocket and came back. Now she wore an apologetic expression on her face. "It's an emergency," she said, offering Levi a hand to help him up.

“Do you want me to walk you back?”

“No, thanks,” Hange winced. “My friend will pick me up.”

“Oh, alright,” Levi nodded numbly, not knowing what to say.

“I’ll text you, yeah?” she looked at him with a hopeful smile. “So we could meet again, perhaps?”

“Sure,” he agreed. “I would love that.”

“Awesome!” Hange gave him finger guns, and Levi rolled his eyes, smacking her arm playfully.

“See you soon!” she shouted and then hurriedly walked away.

As soon as she was gone, Levi was cold once again.

#obviously this is set in a parallel universe where people can still go to movies lmao #anyway nothing happens in this chapter but! maybe the next chapter will be more exciting #no guarantees though :)#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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prose-for-hire · 4 years ago

Text

Btvs Headcanons:

Hc: You work in a store they frequent, meet them that way, and feelings develop. How each character would show you that they care about you/ask you on a date after getting to know them.

Edited to include Oz. [Jenny Calendar hc is separate here ]

Warning: one small mention of sex. and in one hc the store is a butchers

I thought this would be fun, maybe a little different than my usual. You can request some people that aren’t on here if you like. Or a different job or scenario where you would meet them.💜

Spike:

- you work at a 24 hour store, he comes in at weird times of the night

- You catch Spike stealing and take pity on him, letting it slide (he looks a bit gaunt, maybe he’s not eating properly)

- There’s no cameras the place you work is crappy so you maintain eye contact and just nod at him, allowing him to take whatever it is he’s concealed under his leather duster

- He’d start to come in and either blatantly steal so you would catch him and talk to him or buy lots of stuff he didn’t need with money he had ‘borrowed’ from one of the scoobies

- He talks a lot and appears to be trying to impress you, it makes you smile

- But also he’s very attentive to you and asks you things about yourself, wanting to learn everything he can

- He starts waiting for you, watching through the glass, going through whole packs of cigarettes making sure you’re okay and no customers are being nasty

- He will come in and threaten to drain them dry if they say one more horrible thing to you, it’s happened twice

- He follows you home before eventually offering to walk with you

- He’ll probably bottle all of his feelings up for a long time, professing his love in a very heartfelt speech and crashing his lips to yours before actually asking you on a date

Angel:

(I’m so sorry if you don’t eat meat)

- You work at the butchers and Angel used to come in all the time really early before the sun rose

- You were embarrassed such an attractive man saw you in your overalls smelling of raw meat

- Too embarrassed to ask yourself why he wanted so much animal blood

- You soon had his regular order ready and waiting for him, he always seemed to be in a rush. This meant there was a little time for you to talk because he already had his order

- You instigated, asking him lots of questions with you getting one word answers (you think he’s not interested and stop)

- But he’s just trying to keep his distance, he knows what happens when he gets too involved. Things seem to go wrong

- He eventually bumps into you after work one evening, not able to stay away completely

- You work long hours so he’s trying to make sure you’re getting home okay by hanging back in the shadows

- Eventually starts to offer to walk you and you happily agree, chatting nonstop about the delivery or what you were taught that day about slicing into something

- He enjoys just hearing you talk, not able to help smiling at the way you animatedly recount your day to him, eventually one day he’ll offer for you to visit his place making a date out of it

Xander:

- you probably work with him, one of the many jobs he took on after high school

- you both work at a pizza place, he delivers you make the orders

- he acts really weird around you at first, dropping things and stumbling over his words when he speaks to you

- he cracks some childish jokes but you laugh along with him, finding him sweet

- he grins wide when you start to joke back, pulling funny faces behind the manager’s back when it’s turned

- He’ll be thinking of asking you on a date for a really long time, probably since he first met you

- He’s nervous and he doesn’t want you laughing in his face, he probably doesn’t think he has a shot with someone as great as you

- But he just rushes out and says it one night when you’re both grabbing your jackets to leave

- You smile, scan his face to check he’s joking, then nod and say you’d love to

- You go to the Bronze, have a contest to see who can catch the most peanuts in your mouth (if you’re allergic, it’s some other competition, maybe who can finish their drink the fastest)

- He might let you win and then just lean straight in and kiss you when you celebrate

Buffy:

- Buffy comes into the late night store you work at for gum or snacks (something she can carry while she patrols) she recognises you as her regular cashier after a few months.

- I feel like she has a lot on her plate, forgive her for not noticing you straight away

- She’s probs trying to get over someone atm or struggling to trust after her last relationship

- You’re extra friendly with her and she realises after talking it over with Willow that you were actually flirting

- Realises the brief interaction she gets with you makes her feel happy. Real happy and she doesn’t have to be responsible for anyone but herself when she’s chatting away with you

- Starts to ask you questions about yourself enjoying your company. Every time without fail she asks when you get off work, she’s concerned you’re always walking home in the dark

- starts to loop back past your store when she’s on patrol, pretending she was still in the area when you got off

- offering to walk you home a lot, accidentally dropping a pile of weapons once and having to pretend she was doing a woodworking class

- she eventually asks you on a date, encouraged by her friends to make the first move, and you’ll go to the Bronze, dancing and laughing the whole time

Faith:

- you work at the convenience store near the Mayor’s office

- She comes in on her way back to her crappy motel

- she feels a bit conflicted about sneaking around behind Buffy’s back but your bright smile to greet her almost makes her forget

- you caught her eye pretty much the first time she saw you waiting by the register

- she usually asks for some smokes and started to offer to share one with you on your break

- if you smoke, you say yes, if you don’t you say you’ll still come outside with her on your break to keep her company

- you’ll mostly talk with her chipping in at first and then she finds out how good it is to vent to someone

- your break’s over but you tell her you don’t want her to be on her own struggling through her thoughts

- you ask if she can wait, but she doesn’t really do waiting around

- she does give you the address to the motel she’s staying at though and she’ll smoke every hour until she sees you walking

- this is your first date, the one you count as your first date anyway

- you spend the whole night talking, sometimes even laughing. You make her feel like a person, not just a Slayer

Cordy:

- you work at the mall. Specifically a boutique or somewhere Cordy regularly visits

- she’s kind to you but a bit abrupt if you start talking about anything that isn’t a sale

- her dad no longer has any money and she’s a struggling actress after hs and you overhear her phone conversation about how hard everything is

- she wants this pretty dress that you know she’d look beautiful in

- you offer her your employee discount, telling her to keep it quiet

- after that, she specifically requests you and after her fifth visit realises she has been coming and looking forward to seeing you more than the dresses

- this means she’s in deep

- she won’t beat around the bush, she’ll ask you if you won’t ask her

- “Bronze. 8pm” with a little wink, hauling her shopping bags with her before leaving

- You have a great time and you meet up again she does little fashion shows for you before you go out, liking your eye for fashion and asks you to help her choose outfits for your dates

- She’ll want to go public places for dates to show off your relationship

Giles:

- Book store (obviously)

- You’re the most knowledgeable about his particular interest (cough, demons, cough) and he is attracted straight away to your apparent intelligence

- You already know about demons and everything, having studied it extensively as well as running into a vampire late one night and managing to get away unscathed

- He marvelled at this and you tell it so casually, explaining that you just did what the books told you and put it in practice

- He’s lonely really, always hanging around people a lot younger that don’t take him as seriously as he takes himself, but you do

- You think he’s fun to be around, he probably doesn’t wait too long, asking you for a drink the first or second time he meets you.

- He knows life’s too short, especially in Sunnydale

- You appreciate his dry humour and the way he isn’t just bookish, he has a lot of really great qualities

- You haven’t seen him as Ripper, but you know it’s there. He’s open with you and he’ll tell you about his past. He believes in trust

- You go on a lot of dates after that first drink, you even get introduced to the Scoobies and become a kind of parent figure too

Riley Finn:

- you bag his groceries at the supermarket.

- He’s always polite, makes you feel like a human being not just somebody serving him

- Always chats about the weather or something generic that won’t compromise his job, but he likes talking to you

- He occasionally makes a comment to make you smile because seeing your real smile, not the one you put on for customers, is so much sweeter

- He’ll probably come in regularly, same time, same day every week for his shopping now (bc you’re there)

- Bumps into you accidentally while you’re stocking a shelf and helps you pick everything up, smiling at the way you get a little flustered, insisting it was his fault not yours

- He’ll probably ask you if you’ve ever heard of the Bronze, which of course you have because that’s the only half-decent place in town

- Says he’d really like to see you there, like maybe tonight, so you go and have a really great time

- He says he doesn’t want to wait to see you again, but he’s very respectful will probably give you his number so that you can call him first and you don’t feel pressured into a second date or anything

Willow:

- You work at a magic shop

- you help her find the ingredients to a spell she’s been itching to try and give her little tips

- She really likes that you know lots about magic and what ingredient you could swap out for a better result

- You’ll grow close, she’ll pop in and tell you how well/badly the latest spells went

- She’ll tell stories in her characteristic way and you’ll smile at how cute she is and her fun vocabulary you’ll find yourself picking up

- You’ll offer to meet her and help her out with some spells

- She’ll bounce off the walls in excitement

- Probably spend the whole day making sure her dorm room is ‘just right’ for you to see and that she’s made sure about ten times that Buffy is definitely going to be out

- You’ll do the spell, it’ll be a big success because working together shows you that you have this amazing connection

- Then you’ll be talking and sharing loads for hours

- She’ll take you to the Bronze if it’s not too late, if it’s too late she’ll ask what you’re doing at the weekend and invite you then

Tara:

- Also at a magic shop. Probably specifically the Magic Box, after Giles takes it on

- You’re a Scooby and Tara’s moved to Sunnydale for college. She wanted to check out the magic box straight away

- You catch each other’s eye and she looks a little shy

- Starts to stutter when you make conversation, but you’re patient with her, giving her time to finish her words that have become jumbled in your presence.

- She asks for help with finding something only when she absolutely has to, but you’re always kind with her when she does and she smiles so bright when she finds what she’s looking for, scrunching her mouth to the side a little when she looks back at you

- You start to recommend places in Sunnydale for her to check out, trying to gauge if she would be into you or not. You eventually offer to take her and show her around and she nods excitedly

- You both have a really great time and she makes you feel special. She talks a lot more now she’s comfortable with you

- you suggest you could try some magic together, only if she wanted

- She does, you meet up a lot and you date and magically create a cat to own together

- You both have a long, happy life together

Anya:

- You work in the magic box with her. I feel like you both didn’t get on at first

- you didn’t understand her and she felt misunderstood, making her snappy and blunt with you

- eventually, you started to understand she needed a bit of time and you explained yourself more. Why you were doing things, being patient with her and fully giving her everything you could to help her understand the reasoning

- she really appreciated it, nobody ever did this for her without some level of teasing

- she explains about being an ex-vengeance demon. You can’t say you’re shocked (you live in Sunnydale and work in the magic box)

- you were patient with her and she quickly asked if you could start having sex trying to plan out your relationship

- you told her you would rather get to know her first, especially considering you worked together (leading to a chat about workplace relationships going wrong, which leads to an anecdote about her knowing this because of her vengeance days)

- but the feelings were undeniable and you started dating very quickly

- she’ll probably start dropping hints about marriage or the equivalent very soon too

- you work at a record store.

- He comes in pretty regularly, but he doesn’t really say much

- Not until you notice a record he’s holding and start to gush about it

- Your manager told you to talk to customers and encourage them to buy more, but this wasn’t that. And he could tell

- He loved your enthusiasm and he wanted to get to know you

- You caught his eye probably one of the first times he saw you working behind the counter, humming to a song which happened to be one of his favourites

- He just knew then that he wanted to date you

- whispering, “who are they?” but to himself because he always come into the store alone (he wants the experience, just him and the music… and maybe a glance or two at you)

- He might bring some fliers in one day, asking if the store will put them up, advertising Dingoes’ latest gig

- He’ll say you could come, if you want, with a characteristic shrug

- And you’ll obviously say yes and he likes how excitable you are, you contrast with his chill vibe

- And you go and have a great time

- then you talk after, telling him how cool his band is

- You’ll hit it off, finding his phrasing and humour endearing. He’ll gift you a guitar pick from your first sort of date. He’s a romantic

- You’ll mostly come to wherever he’s playing and have a date after

- he’s very sweet, very caring. Always offers to take you somewhere else for a date but you insist on supporting him and getting a drink after

- won’t be much of a talker, but you will always feel loved by him

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hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 5 years ago

Photo

The thing I love about Otto, he is the guy who...Peter Parker is supposed to be the everyman, and in a lot of ways he is, but he is always dating the most beautiful women in the world...supermodels, Gwen Stacy...And Otto was the guy, I am not a big fan of the late-90s as an era of Spider-Man. There was a character called Stunner who came along and was this big Amazonian woman with super-strength, who was Otto's partner and love-interest and the big reveal was that she was a virtual reality simulation and the real person was an overweight woman in a virtual reality machine. But when Otto finds out he says, I didn't love you for what you looked like, I loved you for your mind...I can’t remember if she [Aunt May] saw Betty [Brant] as a bit of a Jezebel because she was older

We er...we really need to unpack this. I already did a post where I cited the above as part of why Christos Gage should never have been allowed to write Spider-Man.

But lets dive deeper into the idiocy of this.

First of all if nothing else the above quote and panels really do prove beyond doubt that Marvel knew what they were doing when they paired Slott and Gage...well sorta. Gage and Slott’s approaches to Spider-Man fundamentally come from the same place of fundamental misunderstanding and regressive beliefs thus they were perfect to work together. It’s just that Gage is a comparatively more competent writer than Slott and therefore Slott should’ve been HIS understudy and fill-in guy not the other way around.

So let’s dive into the less awful bits first. Like Slott Gage doesn’t know his continuity and is too lazy to even google it.

Let’s put aside how Stan Lee himself stated Betty Brant is younger than Peter NOT older, the age difference would’ve been insignificant enough (Peter was a senior in high school when he was dating Betty, that’s stated in the issues) so what is this ‘Jezebel’ crap? The fact his mind would go to that rather than just Aunt May thinking MJ would be a better match is at best eyebrow raising.

Moving on, the crux of his assessment of Otto and Stunner’s relationship is way off the mark. Ignoring the fact that Stunner and the reveals made about her occurred in 1994-1995 (so literally not the LATE 1990s at all), he’s totally distorted the story as it unfolded. As such let me show you some of the relevant pages.

Gage’s assessment of Otto and Stunner’s relationship hinges upon two interconnected ideas.

a) Otto was unaware that her stunning appearance was a facade and

b) That he didn’t care upon finding out

As you can see that is a distortion of what the actual stories conveyed.

Otto was always aware Stunner’s appearance was a facade because he invented the technology that made it possible in the first place!

Otto also began dating her BEFORE she became Stunner. This does indeed support the idea that for him outer beauty is not that relevant.

For myself I find this idea debatable for a few reasons. Not only in the above images does he directly refer to Stunner as beautiful and the love of such a beautiful woman makes him happy but in the classic Spec #75 Bill Mantlo implies Otto took a fancy to Felicia due to her being attractive.

I grant you it’s far from impossible to interpret that Otto in fact was referring to Stunner’s personality as beautiful and took a shining to Felicia for reasons beyond her looks. In fact I find that interpretation interesting. But both examples hurt the narrative of Otto being a man who doesn’t care about outer beauty, even before you get to the fact that in Superior he was oggling and actively trying to fucking rape Mary Jane! What exactly about her ‘inner beauty’ led to him doing this?

Then of course you have his relationship with Aunt May which has been treated as genuinely romantic when it’s very unlikely to be that.

The truth is Doc Ock has been inconsistently written over the decades so pinning down that he’s a man who doesn’t care about a woman’s outer beauty in regards to his feelings for them is extremely iffy.

His dynamic with Stunner and Gage’s assessment is even iffier as the pages detailing his ‘courting’ of her prior to her becoming empowered can definitely be interpreted as him actively manipulating her for his own ends. He needed a test subject for his technology, a technology he was hoping could essentially ensure he’d live beyond the demise of his mortal body and mind (which obviously happened in Superior). Angela was that test subject, he either came across or scouted her out with the explicit intention of having her use his machine.

Because we only get brief flashes of their relationship it’s unclear if he was 100% decieving and manipulating her (as he was to Anna Maria and Mary Jane) or if he was sincere in his affections, at least on some level. Maybe he even started out manipulating her but grew to genuinely care for her before or after her transformation into Stunner.

My point is it’s not this grand moral victory for Otto that he cared for Angela even though she was overweight.

Which brings me to the most damning thing about Gage’s comments.

According to him Otto is better than Peter because Otto didn’t date supermodels or sexy cat burglars.

Much like all his work with Otto before and during his Superior run, Gage practically wanks off the character.

You see Otto is ‘different. He’s not like ‘those other guys’, or more specifically ‘that Peter Parker guy’. HE doesn’t date supermodels or sexy cat burglars.

He just keeps the sexy cat burglars as his ‘guests’ that he won’t let leave his lair, will date by deception and attempt to rape the supermodels and will probably manipulate vulnerable overweight women for his own selfish scientific pursuits and date them sincerely once they’ve transformed into wrestling divas.

Of course in reality, romantic and sexual attraction is something none of us can help and we are going to feel about whoever however we’re going to feel, and the harsh truth is a lot (but not all) of the time outer appearences do matter, or at least they do when it comes to initial attractions. Often in healthy relationships they matter less as time goes by, but are rarely totally irrelevant. Nobody, of any sex, gender or sexuality, is shallow for on some level taking looks into account for how they feel about a romantic or sexual partner, at least on some level.

In Peter’s case Gage’s assessment (which synchs up with Slott’s) of him as shallow is so asinine because he clearly doesn’t just care about looks. In fact semi-famously in the classic Romita stories his initial attraction for Mary Jane fades after he (incorrectly, and unfairly) starts to view her as shallow and little more than her looks.

No doubt about it that chicks’s as pretty as a pumpkin seed...and just about as shallow.

ASM #45*

Peter late of course dumps Black Cat in part because she doesn’t love him for who he is, and only cares about him as Spider-Man. He wants someone who will share a life with him, whom he can connect with. If he was only interested in her because she was sexy why would he do that?

And of course this is to say nothing of the absolute denigration Gage’s comments pay to both MJ and her relationship with Peter.

I’ve felt this way for awhile now but to be blunt, if a writer ever just sums up MJ as a ‘supermodel’ I’m going to presume they either don’t understand her character and/or hold some messed up opinions. Putting aside how MJ hasn’t a model (super or otherwise) for most of her history it’s just messed up that everything else about her is dismissed in favour of pushing that profession and treating it as a summation of who she is as a character.**

Because whenever creators or characters sum up MJ as a supermodel what they really mean is ‘she’s just a shallow, pretty face’. Which is so facepalm worthy ironic because the crux of Mary Jane’s entire character since The Death of Gwen Stacy in 1973 has been that people THINK she is just a shallow pretty face but she in fact absolutely isn’t!

And aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall the stuff that is relevant to why she isn’t is literally the reason Spider-Man fell in love with her in the first place. All the guilt, regret, insecurities, bravery, sense of responsibility and inner strength that subverted what we thought we knew about her, that’s the shit that her and Spider-Man’s romance is built upon.

How the fuck does anyone miss that! It’s not even like you need to read deeply to see it, just read a Wikipedia entry!

It isn’t the crux of Felicia’s character, but the same applies to her. What jackass in this day and age (or indeed since the 1980s) honestly thinks Black Cat is nothing but sex appeal? There is an entire goddam Black Cat ongoing series demonstrating she is more than that! Gage is a goddam relic at this point!

On the flipside of course is poor Anna Maria.

Once upon a time Anna Maria was the best character in Spider-Man. Back in the dark days of 2013 and 2014 when Superior was going strong, MJ was out of the picture and the best Spider-Man books on the stand were about a kid replacing a dead AU Peter Parker and Peter Parker’s clone, Anna Maria was a stand out.

A new character with a personality, likable, a new love interest for ‘Spider-Man’ that on paper made a certain amount of sense even though the circumstances were disgusting. And on top of that she provided a dash of representation that was handled in an appropriate way.

As time went by she gradually devolved as a character and went way off the rails to the point where now she’s being a misogynistic asshole to other women by judging them for their looks. It’s so fucked up because she herself has been judged for her looks, just in a very different way whilst the likes of those ‘shallow’ women she cites have never said a bad word to her or to my knowledge anyone else on the basis of how they were born.

Good job Gage, this is probably the last time we’re going to see Anna Maria and you’ve fully transitioned me from a guy who kind of wanted her to stick around in some capacity as a regular supporting player for Peter into a guy who would be delighted for her to forgotten and never appear again.

Fuck Gage.

Fuck Superior

Fuck the entire asinine, mishandled, clusterfuck of an era that outstayed it’s welcome circa December 2012!

*In fairness he does bring up he might just be thinking ill of MJ because he’s upset about other things. See, THAT is a more even handed and on point depiction of Peter Parker being flawed. But Stan Lee being a better writer than Gage or Slott shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone.

**Not to mention ‘supermodel’ shouldn’t even be used as shorthand for ‘shallow person’ in the first place. Are supermodels not people too? Are they incapable of being intelligent or having worth outside of their looks? I mean FFS we live in a world where this (starting at 3:37) really happened:

youtube

#Christos Gage #Spider-Man #Superior Spider-Man #Anna Maria Marconi #otto octavius #Doc Ock #Dan Slott #Doctor Octopus #mjwatsonedit #Mary Jane Watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #Black Cat #Peter Parker #Felicia Hardy

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pottermadison1995 · 4 years ago

Text

Ex Boyfriend Coming Back Quotes Marvelous Unique Ideas

The reasoning behind asking them to really help you in a good strategy.You have had the hottest girlfriend in high school and married the woman he fell in love with one another, or is there for them back as soon as this goes on for good?Are they a Doctor or a month or last year, you can do at this time, but might seem a little more aggressive, or you may be enough to tell you how to get your ex back, or the whole situation.It helps people to be able to clearly understand the desperation, because I've used them.

What was a mistake in getting your guy to you very quickly.Also, the negative attitude comes across to the point of view.And if you're ex lovers could forgive each other enough to not only are you going to come to a lot of love you again.The tricky thing to getting your girlfriend thinks that you wish to get their ex to see her.Don't try to make him want and desire you once had with each other?

Get everything out and shows your girlfriend back the heart grow fonder!Be there as to reconcile with the situation.If you are and what doesn't... giving you a little better, but still want to do this again and even a knock at the moment, but the more you profess to them before you start.Or just did you love him dearly, I have never really serious about wanting to get him back you need to talk to each other, but do not take shortcuts or neglect anything that would make it work, but they are considered to be with him, and she becomes irresistible.There are many guys can get this thing back on track first.

The No Contact rule is essential for a few new skills in the present and look forward to the breakup.Also, appearing angry over the last thing they want to get him back, as well as to whether you'll get your boyfriend back and live happily ever after with our ex.You must at the right one for you.You have to be with him and had to work on yourself.What did I know it may seem useless at this moment is probably totally sick of you patch things up.Want to get yourself a favor and don't work.

In addition, when you have done that caused the separation?Bob, feeling totally rejected now, decided he would want a boyfriend back is to cut of the outcome.But couples sometimes have their relationship and even more importantly, what not to build a strong relationship.Instead, identify the things that you are looking back and nothing else.I believed that no matter how much you need to know some ways the two of you go through tough times and succeeded a few drinks and a bit tough, but if he does, it won't help you start using this method to use?

Actually, there are several approaches to use, but powerful in its results.Their is a definite indication that they're not interested in her life.The ex is to make him see how the break up.And they now love each other, and much you miss so much as you were the person they are going through a separation period.Start to wonder whether he/she has made at least a couple again it may take some time.

You will do anything that would be better emotionally.It doesn't mean you can't get their girlfriends back.They might even know someone well before these feelings rather than admiration.Gradually her anger will make him jealous.This will only push him or could be, I was not able to show them WHY they fell in love with in your work.

Other times the two of you broke up, she was a trust issue.So about all the wrong action and use them.It is precisely the same way when we go for it!If you want him back is worth following or not.But Jimmy had decided he was relevant and still treat your ex back, then you need to stand strong and express your deepest apologies.

How Can You Get Your Ex Back

Texting - Enough with all the 3 tips I am sure your ex girlfriend back, and it cannot be together right now, but I assure you, I tried to have a plan of action before you lose everything you do not give them their time and space away from each other when they are in such situations!You must refocus on your side you will not compromise.They will be a fine line between the two sexes are and what makes him second guessing his decision.This needs not be as casual as possible from the insight on their ideas and consider the situation.Also, figure out what it is exactly what she's missing.

Maybe it can be hard but you will more than willing to take a look at things.I also started courting my girlfriend dumped me and I am really sorry by accepting your mistakes.Let her do so or not they are doing this, you are starting to think - to sort through your actions.It really doesn't have to show her that you were dating and there are certain tips that you feel that they could chase their ex to come back to you, the reader, are looking for ways on how to get them back right now, but understand this.Probably the most high, like precious gems whose luster potential reaches way beyond the clouds of the way of healing and as someone to help you.

And among all of those reasons before you decide what to do.Now, while in the first step is to use this alone time you both could survive; you had to be useful was tremendously low and almost make you wonder which 50% you and your chances will be incredibly difficult.But as mentioned before, do not make your ex some space to do this.You may ask if you want a fresh view of what went wrong in the eye and smile.You shouldn't beg or harass him then he'll simply lose all self-control.

Don't show him that in many relationship can go.Do they start saying something, and then allow him some space.If she replied, then you're on your side to want you.You're not the other hand need to rebuild the love between you and is still in love with.But you also need to do something about or lose him for the good times you had been through and make sure you will definitely fall in love with you, it will be able to deal with what she is receptive to getting your lover back.

Should you try to get your boyfriend is ignoring you now, it doesn't work out.Indeed, you must find out where the man of her life!By the same girl if you think that you should make it right, you would like to feel protected and loved me the product.We are supposed to figure things out then there is something that my ex back depends on how to get your ex must NOT know how to win you back?Almost everyone who has been through what you're going to lose in your ex's friends have to spend the rest of your woman back is difficult if you know what it was a specific action that you have been written about how we all know that reason and expressing how much you love her.

This is important, because your partner back is not impossible to do. Make sure you starting to think about how good you looked.It will only reject your ex have a weekend thing and one day at a different person is acting with integrity when they go wrong along the way.If your ex back is absolutely critical that you are about to show you're ex partner think they should act a part.There is so much that has caused the split-up.

How To Get Ex Back In Your Life

#Ex Boyfriend Coming Back Quotes Marvelous Unique Ideas #How To Get Your Ex Girlfriend Back When She H

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thelanguageoflovers · 5 years ago

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I Trust You, Theodore James Kippen

A one-shot for the amazing @tyrusflavoredtea in return for the masterlist she made me!

***

“Flight 283 out of Gate 32C has been delayed from its departure time of 4:50 to 6:00. I repeat, Flight 283 out of Gate 32C will now be departing at 6:00 pm.” The flight attendant’s voice was nearly inaudible over the quiet din of chatter throughout the gate. Cyrus rolled his eyes, sitting back in his chair and trying to get comfortable. He glanced up at the desk, watching yet another hopeful passenger be informed that there were no more flights out of DCA into ORD until 1:00 in the afternoon the next day.

“I apologize for the inconvenience, sir.”

“No, that’s alright. You don’t decide what flights go where and when,” the man assured her.

“Thank you for understanding, Mr. Tallman. The airline will provide you compensation for your time,” she promised.

“Oh? What kind of compensation?” he asked, leaning slightly over the desk with a nearly intimidatingly suggestive smile.

“Sir, I-”

“Please, call me John.”

“Mr. Tallman,” the attendant emphasized, stepping backward slightly. Cyrus sat up as he watched this happen, already standing up as John began to speak again.

“Oh come on, baby-” Cyrus was standing next to him in no time, beginning to open his mouth before he was beaten to the punch.

“Is there a problem here, sir?” A deep voice asked from the other side of Mr. Tallman.

“Yeah, there is, actually-”

“-Sir,” Cyrus cut in. “I recommend you stop right there. She’s clearly not interested, and I can’t blame her. Move on, and stop taking flights if you can’t keep it in your pants long enough to speak to a flight attendant.” Mr. Tallman opened his mouth to argue, but Deep Voice Guy was stepping in front of him, hand on his chest.

“Mr. Tallman. You either walk away or you face the No-Fly list,” he said, towering over the man. Who rolled his eyes and walked out of the gate, muttering something.

“I- would that even get him on the No-Fly list?” Cyrus muttered, mostly to himself.

“Well, no,” Deep Voice answered, turning to face him and holding out a hand to shake. “But he thinks it would. I’m TJ Kippen.”

“Cyrus Goodman.” They shook hands, smiling gently.

“Thank you guys, so much,” the flight attendant said.

“Oh, it was no problem,” Cyrus promised, hooking his thumb into the strap of his backpack.

“Not at all,” TJ agreed, smiling at her. “Do you need anything?”

“No, no, that was plenty.”

“Okay, then.” TJ turned to Cyrus. “Come sit with me?”

“I- um, I guess so.” Cyrus was weighing the possibilities of TJ’s status as a serial killer in his head, and not only could TJ tell, he also found it ridiculously endearing.

“Come on, I promise not to harm you.” TJ smiled wide, gesturing to an open row of chairs.

“I don’t think that was the right way to assure someone of your trustworthiness.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” Cyrus chuckled, sitting down next to him.

“What would you prefer, then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well that’s not fair!”

“Life isn’t fair, Kippen.”

“Yeah, yeah. Who are you, my mother?”

“Who’s to say?”

“...You?” TJ asked.

“I respect that,” Cyrus conceded. “Anyway, is DC home, business, or pleasure?”

“School, actually. Georgetown. I stayed six extra weeks to take a history course.”

“Freshman?”

“Yeah, I am,” TJ laughed.

“Me too. Yale, though.”

“Then why the hell are you in DC? And going to Chicago?”

“Summer internship - Capitol Hill. And Chicago is home. Sort of. Chicago is home plus about four hours of driving.”

“Same. O’Hare is just the closest big airport to Shadyside.”

“Shadyside?” Cyrus asked, facing TJ.

“Yeah?”

“You’re lying, right?”

“No?” TJ promised, one eyebrow raised.

“You have to be lying. I’d know you if you lived in Shadyside.”

“Ah. You live there too?”

“No. I live there. You, on the other hand, are a liar.” TJ shook his head, reaching into his pocket for his wallet and pulling out his driver’s licence. He handed it to Cyrus with a smug grin.

“Shadyside, Midwest. Born and raised,” he said, only for Cyrus to chuckle at the card.

“Theodore James Kippen. Theodore. Theo Kippen,” Cyrus laughed. “Your name is Theodore.”

“Oh hush. You were named after a sculptor.”

“Not so. I was named after Cyrus the Great, Achaemenid-Persian King, and Cyrus McCormick, physicist. And who were you named after? Ted Bundy?” Cyrus deadpanned.

“Not funny! Theodore Roosevelt and James Joyce.”

“Oh. That’s… Not actually something I know how to make fun of.”

“Lucky me.”

“I like your shirt,” Cyrus said after a moment, smiling softly at the pride pattern.

“June’s almost over. I figured I should probably wear it a few more times before the hets get mad,” TJ joked, glancing down at Cyrus’s pride bracelet. “The same for you, I presume?”

“Nah. This bracelet never leaves my wrist; it’s been a part of me since my best friend made it for me.”

“And how long has that been?”

“Nearly six years. Since the day I came out to her.”

“You’ve got a good best friend, then,” TJ smiled.

“Two of them, actually.”

“Ah. Me too. Well, a best friend and a twin sister.”

“Good support system,” Cyrus approved. “Does your sister go too Georgetown, too?”

“No, UCLA. I haven’t seen her in far too long.”

“Reunion day tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” A smile came over his face as he spoke. “Marty, Amber and I haven’t seen one another since the holidays.”

“Marty?! That’s your best friend?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“He’s my best friend’s ex-boyfriend,” Cyrus gawked.

“So your best friend is… Buffy Driscoll! Then your bracelet maker is Andi Mack.”

“You are correct. And your twin sister is dating my best friend.”

“She is, yeah. And your other best friend dumped my best friend for… Someone else. Whoever she cheated on him with. I never got around to finding out who.”

“Buffy didn’t break up with Marty for someone else or cheat on him? She broke up with him because they were going off to schools on opposite sides of the country and she didn’t want them both to get hurt.”

“Marty said she…”

“She didn’t. Buffy’s not that kind of person.”

“How am I supposed to believe that?”

“I give you my word, Theo.”

“Is that gonna stick?”

“Are you gonna go after Buffy for cheating?”

“I asked the first question.”

“I asked the more important question,” Cyrus rebutted.

“Fine. I trust you.”

“Then I trust you, Theo.”

“Is that all it takes to buy your trust?” TJ crossed his arms.

“No, actually. My trust costs quite a lot more than that.”

“Like what?”

“Like… Your ID, the pride pattern on your shirt - a gift from Marty when you two came out to one another. Your luggage tag, the watch you’re wearing - which just so happens to have been picked out by Andi while helping Amber shop for her brother. Your backpack, which you borrowed from Marty. Your shoes, decorated by Walker Brodsky, Andi’s ex boyfriend. Your varsity jacket - Grant High basketball. The music playing out of your earbuds - a playlist no doubt formed by Bowie Quinn, Andi’s dad.

“Your pants - bought at the mall five miles out of town. Your hair, which fits Amber’s description of her brother. The tattoo on your wrist of your little sister’s name; Molly passed away a few years ago, and you spoke at her funeral. I only met her once when Amber brought her along to hang out at the park, but she looks just like you. And the polaroid in your phone case. Amber put it there right before you went separate ways.”

“You collected all that information in one conversation?” TJ asked.

“My trust isn’t easily handed out.”

“Question - do you hyper analyze everyone you meet?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Tell me about that lady,” he said, looking pointedly in the direction of a woman sitting alone in a row of chairs.

“She just got back from visiting her kid at Howard.”

“How can you tell?”

“...It says so on her sweatshirt.” TJ glanced up to find that yes, she was wearing a Howard sweatshirt.

“Touché.”

“You just chose a bad person. That was too easy.”

“Fine. That flight attendant back there. She’s in uniform, so you can’t derive clues from that,” TJ said, a smug grin on his face.”

“Bad choice, Theo. She’s in uniform, but I know her profession and I’ve had an entire conversation with her. She’s engaged, and she hasn’t seen her fiancé in a few weeks. This is her last flight before she gets to see him in Chicago. And before you ask- she’s wearing an engagement ring.”

“That’s mildly terrifying. How do you pick up so much information so quickly?”

“All four of my parents are psychiatrists. You pick up the skill after a while.”

“Ah. That’s… fascinating,” TJ said.

“Well that was convincing,” Cyrus deadpanned.

“No, I mean it! That’s genuinely cool, Cyrus.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s kind of my single defining character trait. Or rather, my single defining skill.”

“Oh, come on. You’re worth more than this one skill,” TJ insisted. \

“Like…?”

“Whatever’s in your bank account, I presume,” he teased.

“Theodore Kippen!”

“It was a joke, I promise,” TJ said, hands in the air as though pleading innocence.

“I know it was.” Cyrus smiled softly, a silent promise that he believed him.

“What are you majoring in?” TJ asked, opting to change the subject entirely. Cyrus clearly noticed, raising an amused eyebrow.

“Doubling in Poli Sci and Philosophy. You?”

“Majoring History and a minor in German.”

“Are you fluent?”

“Uh, yeah. It’s actually my first language. We lived in Germany until Amber and I were 10.”

“Seriously?” Cyrus asked. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“My American accent is really good, I guess,” he responded, letting his natural German accent show.

“You should probably just be handed a German major,” Cyrus marveled.

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

“You know, I think I actually prefer your natural accent to the American.”

“Is that a compliment?” TJ’s accent was thicker now - he was clearly starting to fall back into it after using a false one for so long.

“Of course it is!”

“Well then, I’m glad you heard it.”

“So am I. Goodness, do you think the plane should be at the gate by now? It’s… 4:45, and we’re supposed to depart at 6:00, so we should be boarding very soon.”

“Ja, das sollte es auch.”

“Pardon?”

“Hmm? Oh! Um, yes, it should be. Sorry, I wasn’t really thinking and-”

“Don’t apologize! It’s fine.”

“The plane should definitely be here,” TJ said, sidestepping the topic. He looked out the windows to where the plane should be.

“What do you bet it gets cancelled tonight?”

“Oh, definitely,” TJ agreed. “I’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop since the first delay.”

“So have I. The attendants at the desk even look like they know it’s going to be cancelled.”

“I feel so bad for them.” TJ glanced to the desk, a sympathetic look on his face. “Wait, look-”

“Hmm?” Cyrus looked to the desk, where the flight attendants were reading something and one was reaching for the microphone as another typed frantically into a computer.

“Cancellation or delay?” TJ asked.

“I say cancelled.”

“I say another delay,” TJ countered.

“Passengers of Flight 283 out of Gate 32C, Flight 283 has been cancelled. All passengers have been placed on one of two flights tomorrow and will be emailed the details. Passengers have also been awarded miles to be used for United Airlines flights. Thank you for your patience and flexibility.”

The other passengers at the gate all grumbled slightly, sighing and exiting the gate. Many said something about getting dinner. TJ stood up, pulling out his phone to look for rooms at nearby hotels.

“I’m gonna run up to the desk really quick, hang on.” Cyrus was gone before TJ could ask. Naturally, he followed.

“What can I help you with?”

“I was wondering what times the flights are tomorrow?” Cyrus asked, approaching the desk with a smile.

“Well, we’ve put all the passengers in coach on either the flight at noon or 1:00 pm. However, we can also put you and your boyfriend in first class at 4:00 pm instead of giving you complimentary miles,” a flight attendant said.

“I’ll definitely take that offer,” TJ said from behind him, ignoring the flight attendant’s assumption. Cyrus couldn’t help but notice that his American accent was back in full swing.

“Me too, absolutely,” Cyrus agreed. “Do we owe anything extra?”

“No, no.” The attendant from earlier stepped forward, overhearing their conversation. “You helped me out earlier, so consider it a gift from the airline. I’ll cover any extra fees,” she promised.

“Oh- are you sure? I’d be happy to pay-” Cyrus started.

“No, no. There’s truly no need.”

“Thank you so much,” TJ said, smiling at her gratefully.

“Thank you!” Cyrus exclaimed, turning to exit the gate with TJ. “Did you get anywhere on hotel rooms?”

“There’s only one room open at any hotel nearby.”

“Ugh, I guess that means I’ll have to drive out urther and come back in the morning.”

“...I mean, you could,” TJ said. “But it’s got two queen beds, if you’d rather stay nearby and split the cost?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course. I don’t particularly want to pay for a room on my own. Especially not at Chicago prices.”

“I don’t either, as long as you’re sure.”

“Eh, my twin sister really likes you,” TJ reasoned. “I’m gonna take the room.”

“Good, how much do I owe you?”

“Um… 60 dollars.”

Cyrus nodded, handing it to him with a smile.

“Now, should we go get dinner?”

“Yes, definitely,” TJ said. “Just- not in the airport.”

“Right. No 16 dollar burgers, got it. You know, I think I have an idea. There’s a place I really like nearby. It’s not much, really, but… any dietary restrictions?”

“Do you count penicillin as a dietary restriction?”

“No, you idiot! I meant like lactose intolerance or veganism.”

“Ah. Well, none of those things.”

“Good. Do you have a car here?”

“No, I took a cab.”

“Okay, I’m driving then,” Cyrus said, pulling his keys out of his pocket and waving them at TJ. “Shall we?”

***

“Have you ever had kebab?” Cyrus asked, handing TJ his food.

“I lived in Berlin for ten years! Of course I’ve had kebab. Never in America, though.”

“Ah, well… I can’t promise it’ll live up to Berlin’s standards. However, I say we eat it while it’s warm.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then.” TJ feigned a toast with his kebab, biting into it in sync with Cyrus. “...Well. it’s no Berlin, but it’s good. And anyway, even if it was awful- I’d eat awful kebab a thousand times over if it means another date with you.”

“This is a date now. Theo?”

“Only if you want it to be,” TJ flirted.

“I don’t think I’d mind that.”

“Yeah?” TJ’s grin was enough to change his mind if he’d been at all on the fence.

“Oh, absolutely.”

They finished their food quickly, talking aimlessly about their friends in Shadyside. Before he knew it, Cyrus was walking up to the front desk of their hotel with TJ at his side.

“Hi, we have a room, under Kippen,” he said.

“Yes, of course, here it is. I’ll just need ID and a card for incidentals?” Cyrus handed his credit card over while TJ set his driver’s licence on the desk. “...And there we go. You’re all set in room 619. Elevators are around the corner to your left. Have a good evening!”

“You too, ma’am, thank you!” TJ said.

“Thank you!” Cyrus followed TJ to the elevators, racing him to push the button.

“You’re ridiculous,” TJ huffed, pouting as Cyrus beat him to it.

“I know,” Cyrus said. His face was still occupied by a smug grin as he stepped out of the elevator onto the 6th floor. He led TJ down the hall toward their room. Sliding the room key into the lock, TJ pushed the door open.

The room was full of white bedding and soft carpeting and the same air freshener employed in every hotel Cyrus had ever stayed in. He let TJ take his hand and pull him inside, let him simply stand and stare into Cyrus’s eyes, let him step forward and kiss him, let his back hit the door as he looped his arms around TJ’s neck.

“Thank you,” TJ breathed, still crowding Cyrus against the door.

“For what?”

“This. All of this. Letting me kiss you.” Cyrus simply shrugged, tugging TJ back toward him.

“I trust you, Theodore James Kippen.”

#Andi Mack #tyrus #tj kippen #cyrus goodman #amber kippen #Amber (Andi Mack)#amber brown #Marty from the party #buffy driscoll #good hair crew #kippen twins #be nice to flight attendants

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ranwing · 6 years ago

Text

Kadam Fic: Learning to Fly (12/?)

Title: Learning to Fly Series: A New Direction (was Season Four Remix) Pairing(s), Characters(s): Kadam, Kurt Hummel, Adam Crawford, Burt Hummel, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, Carmen Tibideaux, Cassandra July, Artie Abrams, Tina Cohen-Chang, Elliot “Starchild” Gilbert, Dani, Adam’s Apples, Original Characters Rating: PG13 (rating may change) Genre(s): canon divergence. Parts: 12/? Summary: As another school year starts at NYADA, Kurt seemed to have it all. The respect of his teachers, a group of wonderful friends and best of all, getting to live with the man that he’d come to love. So of course the universe would throw a few curve balls in his direction.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven

On AO3

A/N - Sorry for the delay in getting this part finished. Getting sick last month set me back a bit. Thanks so much for sticking with me because I really appreciate all of my readers.

Rachel rushed down the block, knowing that she was running late. The mandatory hair and makeup workshop set up by the costuming team ran longer than she’d planned, and she had vastly underestimated what a chore it was to clean up when she’d made her date with Neil. The timing wasn’t great, but between both their class schedules and her every-increasing rehearsal burden, this was one of the few chances she’d have to see him before she went into tech. And after their successful first coffee date, she didn’t want to let it pass by. She’d have just enough time to see him for a cup of coffee and a snack before she was due back in school.

She finally arrived at the Third Rail Coffee Shop, chosen because it was conveniently between NYU and NYADA and dashed inside, hoping that she hadn’t kept Neil waiting too long. Arriving late so early in a relationship made a terrible impression, but so would showing up covered in thick grease paint looking suspiciously like she had some sort of unpleasant social disease.

Looking about the shop, she couldn’t help from smiling when she saw that he’d not only already beaten her there but staked out a table but had already procured refreshments. He noticed her hurried entrance and grinned, the brightness of his smile causing an intriguing tingle to bubble up within her. As should be expected from a proper gentleman, he stood at her approach.

“Hi Rachel,” he greeted happily, his warm eyes shining.

She felt her cheeks warming. How did she ever think he was plain looking? That smile was causing her stomach to flip in all kinds of interesting ways.

“Hi,” she said softly, smiling back. She stood up on her toes to press a polite kiss of greeting to his cheek. “Sorry I’m so late. Our workshop ran a bit longer than expected.”

“It’s okay,” he assured her, holding out her chair so she could sit down. “I’m just annoyingly punctual. I’m almost always the one kept waiting, so don’t feel bad.”

Rachel couldn’t help from thinking how adorable it was that he painted what anyone else would consider to be a virtue as some sort of personal failing.

“I hope I got your order right,” Neil said as he took his own seat.

Rachel took a quick sip, trusting that he did and marveling that he cared enough to even try after one date. “Vanilla latte with soy milk. Perfect,” she assured him, earning another brilliant smile from her suitor.

He pushed a plate across the table towards her. “I figured that you’d probably be hungry,” he offered, and Rachel nearly beamed in delight. He’d even remembered that she’d liked the hibiscus glazed donuts the last time they’d met.

“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “We have rehearsals starting at five, and I’ve got no idea when I’ll have a chance to grab dinner tonight.”

“Well, don’t forget to take care of yourself,” Neil urged, looking a little concerned for her. “Even if you just take some snacks for when you have a break. Honestly, I don’t know where you and Kurt find the energy to do this on top of your classes.”

She just offered a tired smile. “It’s easy when you love it,” she explained. “All the hard work really pays off when you’re standing in front of an audience and all they see is an amazing story that they’re transported into. That’s when it all becomes worthwhile.”

Neil nodded in understanding. “I know that you have to love it,” he acknowledged. “I mean, I live with two performers and seeing them absolutely living for those moments that they go on stage… there’s no way to do that unless it’s what you love.”

His smile grew wider and there was a teasing glint in his eyes. “Even if you end up walking around with makeup smears on your neck.”

Rachel’s hand shot up to her throat and she felt the telltale tackiness of the cosmetics that she’d applied earlier that afternoon. Her fingertips came away covered in the makeup that she’d used to simulate dirt over her exposed skin.

“Oh damn… I thought that I got it all,” she insisted. Wiping off her hands on a napkin he offered her, she reached for the mirror in her purse and saw that she did have streaks of brown and grey all over the side of her neck where her hair had hidden it. “Wonderful… it looks like I haven’t bathed in the past six months.”

Neil couldn’t help from laughing. “Wasn’t that the point,” he asked playfully. “What are you supposed to be int hat scene? Peasant number twelve?”

Rachel chuckled in response. “More like prostitute number eight,” she clarified. “And this after spending about twenty minutes cleaning up. I looked like a hungover panda.”

Neil laughed again. “Now that would have been something to see. You would be one skanky looking prostitute.”

Rachel couldn’t help from smiling. From anyone else that might have come across like an insult, but she immediately recognized it for the joke that it was. Neil might not have a real appreciation for performing, but he seemed to have a lot of tolerance and a sense of amusement about the foibles of the profession that so many of the people around him aspired to. She’d never really been interested in spending time with someone like Neil, but now found herself looking forward to every minute.

“So how’s that lab going for you?” she asked, remembering his playful complaints about one of his classes during their last meeting. “Is your partner still trying to make you neurotic?”

Neil shook his head. “No, he seems to be settling down,” he assured her with a chuckle. “I could do without having Erica in the class, but she seems as determined to keep things civil as I am.”

“Erica?” Rachel asked curiously.

Neil nodded. “She’s… well, we dated for a while,” he explained a bit cautiously, gaging Rachel’s reaction.

She felt a momentary pang of jealousy that there was someone that Neil had been involved with in the not too distant past, but she knew that it wasn’t something reasonable for her to get worked up over. At their age, there would be a good number of exes in both their histories and getting upset over Neil’s past relationships was a bit silly.

“What happened?” she asked carefully, not wanting to press if he didn’t want to talk about a breakup that she got the sense wasn’t that long ago. She hoped that he was really over it because she wasn’t looking forward to being a rebound.

“I think it was a class of just never getting a break from one another,” he admitted with a shrug. “We met at school and we’re in same program, so we hit it off really well. It seemed kind of natural since we’re both looking to work in the same field and we had a lot in common. Her dad is a cop and mine works for the government. It was easy for us to talk. I mean, I don’t usually meet too many women who are interested in what I’m doing, let alone understand much of it.”

Rachel nodded in understanding. “I can see why that’s appealing. My last boyfriend was also a NYADA student,” she admitted. “It seemed like the perfect situation, but it didn’t take long before I saw that we really weren’t well-matched outside of our career aspirations.”

Admittedly, that was a very sanitized version of what happened with Brody, Rachel considered. She wasn’t quite ready to blurt out that she’d dumped her last relationship because her boyfriend had a socially unacceptable way of funding his education. Neither of them handled the revelation well, with her judgmental nature and his defensiveness, so it wasn’t much of a wonder that whatever existed between hem quickly and permanently fizzled.

“It was kind of the same thing with Erica,” Neil explained. “Not that she wasn’t terrific, but I just found that even when we weren’t at school that all we tended to do was talk about our classwork. Or things that we read in professional journals. It was like our lives didn’t exist except for work. There wasn’t any real downtime for us, and I started to see that except for our work, we really didn’t have that much in common. We didn’t talk about anything else and I was just tired. And even though we broke up months ago, we can’t help from seeing each other all the time.”

Rachel nodded in understanding. It had been something of a relief to her when he got cast in a show out of town and she wouldn’t have to see him every day. She could only imagine how unpleasant it must be for Neil to be sharing so many classes with someone that he’d been involved with.

He sipped at his coffee thoughtfully. “I think that’s one of the reasons why I like living with Elliot and Dani,” he theorized. “Because we’re such different people, the time I spent with them is a real break from my work. It doesn’t matter that I don’t get half of what they’re up to… it’s just interesting being around a different kind of energy.”

Rachel found that admission utterly charming. “Pretty much everyone I’ve ever been involved with has been a performer of some kind. I have to admit that you’re probably the first guy that I’ve ever liked that wasn’t an actor or singer.”

“I’m just special like that,” he teased playfully, giving her a wry wink.

Yes, you definitely are, Rachel thought as she sipped her latte. She felt relaxed in his presence, knowing that she didn’t need to put on a show for him. While there as something that she’d always liked about the chemistry she could find with guys like Jesse and Finn who were performance as much as romantic partners, this felt oddly comfortable. And she wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

But there was nothing wrong with seeing where this went and enjoying the ride.

* * *

Taking time to do absolutely nothing of consequence was not something that came naturally to Kurt. Not with his current schedule and the incessant demands for excellence. Having a rare hour with nothing planned or required during the day was something that Kurt very much cherished, and he’d learned the hard way to indulge himself when the moment was presented. His first instinct would always be to use that time to study or practice, leaving him exhausted by the end of his long days. Taking a bit of time to actually relax in the school common area with a cup of tea and doing a bit of frivolous web surfing did wonders for his mental outlook.

Kurt knew that no matter how demanding his teachers were, he tended to be more demanding on himself than anyone. It had taken him quite some time, but he’d finally come to accept that no matter how much pressure he felt in his classes and rehearsals that he still needed to give himself some time to rest mentally and physically. It hadn’t come easily but he could already see the benefit he was deriving from the self-imposed downtime. He was no longer facing the mounting challenges ahead with such dread. He was able to give a better effort in his classes and rehearsals because he wasn’t exhausting himself every waking second of the day.

Once he’d updated his fashion blog with a few pictures of an outfit inspired by the outfit he’d worn while performing at Elliot’s cabaret, he checked his social media feeds to see what was going on with his friends. He probably shouldn’t have been too surprised that the primary topic of discussion amongst his friends was confirming plans to come to New York and see their show, but it still warmed his heart. For all the drama and insanity that their group had seen over the years, it was gratifying to see that so many loyal friendships had been forged.

He’d known what Finn was, of course, coming to see them. Reading his brother’s latest posting on Facebook left Kurt chuckling to himself at seeing Finn’s excitement over his upcoming trip and bragging to the rest of the group that he’d get to see the show before everyone else since the Hummels would be attending the opening night gala. Plans had already been confirmed for him to fly first to Washington and spend some time with their parents since it had been a few months since he’d seen his mother. The three of them would travel to New York together and would be staying in a hotel not far from the theater.

As delighted as Kurt was to see his brother, it was tempered with the disappointment that Sam and Puck would not be joining them. Money for the three of them was tight and while the Hummels would have happily paid for their plane tickets and he had no doubt that Rachel and the others would have found a way to squeeze them into the loft, it just wasn’t going to work out. Their boss in Texas was a great guy, but the company was busy and he couldn’t allow all three of them to take off several days at the same time. In the end, there had been no argument that it was more important for Finn to have the chance to see his brother. There would be other chances for Puck and Sam to see Kurt perform in the future.

Quinn had emailed him, confirming that she would be driving from school and would be staying in the loft, giving Santana a chance to reconnect with one of her oldest friends and Kurt was looking forward to seeing her. But it was Mercedes’s email that brought a real smile to his face. For a few weeks, it hadn’t been certain if she would be able to attend at all since her album was nearing completion and her label would not tolerate any delays that might interfere with its release. It was entirely understandable, and Kurt had resigned himself being disappointed.

She wanted to make sure that there was still a ticket for her because she’d managed to work things so that she could be in New York in time to see the show at the end of its run. Her label wanted her to meet with their publicist in New York and she managed to coordinate her meeting with the show because there was no way that she was going to miss seeing her “boy”.

Kurt wrote back to let her know that he was thrilled to be seeing her and that, of course, there was a ticket for her. He was deeply appreciative that she went through so much effort to schedule a meeting that could be important to her own career around his show and knew that no matter how busy his week was, he really needed to find a way for them to spend a few hours together while she was in town. At the oldest and most enduring of his friends, he owed her no less.

Having so many friends traveling to see their show eased the disappointment over the ones that couldn’t attend. Besides Sam and Puck, Mike had sent his sincere regrets. He was too tied up with his own classes and performances and couldn’t take a few days off at this point. Brittany had taken a job at a local dance school while attending school herself and her students were in the middle of preparations for their spring recitals. Kurt emailed them both to let them know that he understood, and they would be missed. The sentiment was sincere, and he hoped that he would have a chance to see them performing in their own venues at a later date.

Blaine made no comment about the show and if he intended to see it or even showing even the most remote interest. His few recent posts made note of his own activities and bemoaning how he missed everyone but seemed to be deliberately avoiding any conversations about Kurt’s and Rachel’s upcoming show. In all honesty, Kurt was relieved over Blaine’s tendency to ignore anything that he couldn’t appropriate attention from. Neither he nor Rachel had made any overtures to him on the matter. While Kurt wanted to keep his ex as far away as possible, he could admit that he was just petty enough to hope that Blaine finds out just how well he was doing.

He and Rachel and decided to play a joke on their friends and not tell anyone that Kurt had been elevated from chorus to primary, hoping to surprise them. Of course, the secret would be out after the first performance and between NYADA’s social media and the very efficient New Directions grapevine, Kurt was fairly sure that the news would reach Blaine without too much delay.

He’d already found out from Rachel that Mr. Schuester would be arriving in New York to see their show and she’d arranged for him to see the Sunday matinee so that he wouldn’t miss work with his choir back in Lima. Part of Kurt wondered if he shouldn’t be more annoyed that it was Rachel’s invitation that their old teacher had responded to, but in the end, it just wasn’t worth losing sleep over. Rachel had always been Mr. Schuester’s special favorite and he doubted that anything would ever change that fact.

At least Mr. Schue’s wife had the consideration to repond to Kurt’s invitation herself. Emma Schuester apologized that she was not able to attend with her husband because their new baby was just too young to travel and she couldn’t leave him with a sitter just yet, but that she was very proud of him and wished him well for his performances. He wrote her back a short note, expressing that he understood and would miss her. He really would. Emma had a good and kind heart and he had not forgotten how she’d her best to try to help him back in high school.

Whatever slight he might have felt from Mr. Schuester was more than made up by the fact that he had his own McKinley faculty offering her peculiar brand of support. He hadn’t been sure if Coach Sylvester would actually want to attend his show, but he was pleased when she responded with a firm commitment that she would come. He offered to secure a ticket for whatever performance she found convenient to attend, promising the best seat in the house, but she assured him that she had made her own arrangements and was looking forward to seeing him. At his query over what night she was coming, her response was quick and typical of her usual bluntness.

None of your bee’s wax, Porcelain. You’ll see me when I get there. Just make sure you do a good job and make using my frequent flyer miles worthwhile. Remember… you’re still representing the Cheerios.

He couldn’t help from smiling, seeing the gentle teasing behind the brusque words. He knew Sue Sylvester well enough to recognize what a rare honor he was being paid. The abrasive woman was many things, not the least of which being at least a little insane, but he understood that he was one of the very few people who had managed to earn her honest respect and fully realized how special a tribute that was. Knowing that she was going out of her way to support him gave him a sense of satisfaction that few others could inspire. And he wondered what her response would be at seeing him the primary in such a significant role.

A shadow fell over his table as another student approached. “Hi Kurt. Got a minute?”

Kurt looked up to smile at Merry, always happy to see any of the Apples. “Hey… sure!” he answered brightly, moving his bad so she could sit. “Grab a seat. What’s going on?”

The tall young woman seemed quite happy about something as she grinned at her mentor. “Well, I did it,” she informed him with a twinkle in her eyes. “I did exactly what you told me to for my critique.”

Kurt sat up straight, his grin widening. “Seriously?”

She nodded, her haphazardly-done braid falling over her shoulder. “Yup!” she pronounced proudly. “I did both ‘Buenos Aries’ and ‘Rainbow High’ and switched up the key and arrangement to fit my voice better.”

“And? What did Madam Tibideaux say?” he asked eagerly, knowing that the response had to have been positive judging from the way Merry seemed too pleased.

“Well…. I do have to work on my projection more. And she warned that I can get a little screechy when trying to push my upper register. But otherwise… it was good!” Merry laughed, clapping her hands happily. “She said that I had presence and I understood the character and that I was finally starting to show what I am really capable of.”

He couldn’t resist reaching out to pull the young woman into a tight hug. “Oh, that’s fantastic,” he praised. “I knew you had it in you!”

She nodded, wiping at her eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t pushed me to,” she insisted with a shy smile. “I figured after the way my last critique went that I didn’t have anything to lose.”

Kurt nodded understandingly. “I know how that feels,” he confided. “Sometimes feeing like you’re up against the wall is what you need to unleash what you need. You just needed to get out of your own way. I’m so damn proud of you!

“And you’re going to have to do them for us the next time the Apples get together,” he warned. “Once we’re done with the insanity of this show.”

Merry giggled and nodded. “Have you totally lost your sanity yet?” she teased.

He chuckled ruefully. “Not yet, but check after tech week,” he advised.

Merry smiled again, getting to her feet. “Well, I won’t keep you because I know that you’re crazy busy. I just wanted to say thanks for your help,” she said gratefully. “I’m not going to lie… I wasn’t sure if I could really hack it here. I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have the Apples and you.”

“It was my pleasure,” he assured her, delighted for her accomplishment. “I’m totally thrilled for you. And I promise that we will start having regular gettogethers once we’re done with the show.”

Merry nodded understandingly. “I’m going to hold you to that,” she warned playfully. “Have fun at rehearsal! I’m looking forward to hearing all your stories.”

As the younger student strolled away, a clear bounce in her step from having finally satisfied their most demanding teacher. Kurt smiled to himself, feeling great gratification on behalf of a kindred spirit and sipped at his tea. This was just the kind of good news that would set his mood for what promised to be a brutal rehearsal.

* * *

“A toast!” Analisa shouted, trying to be heard over the din of conversation and music around her. She raised her wine glass. “To our last successful rehearsal and the start of tech week!”

“Here, here,” Jamie called out, raising his beer.

“And farewell to sleep and free time for the duration,” Kurt quipped with a wry grin.

Rachel nodded. “Thank God we’ve got two days off before Hell Week begins,” she reminded the group, nodding in agreement at their grateful moans. They were certainly going ot need to rest up.

It was amazing how quickly the past few weeks had flown by, Kurt mused at his sipped at his drink and reached around Santana for the chips. Between classes, work and rehearsals, it had seemed like he was on a never-ending treadmill and there were times when he’d barely had a moment to look about and see where he was. Tech week promised to be brutal, then a set of dress rehearsals before their official opening night.

Everyone was absolutely exhausted from all the work and he was glad that Rachel invited their friends to the loft for drinks and dinner, so they could decompress a bit and celebrate what they’ve accomplished. Santana grumbled about her night off being invaded but was appeased by her girlfriend arriving armed with two bottles of Gewürztraminer and a promise to sleep over to soothe Santana’s ruffled feathers. Elliot followed along so he could see Kurt before his friend vanished into an endless cycle of tech rehearsals. When Artie and Tina arrived home from class, it turned into a veritable party.

Tina raised her glass. “Well, here’s to what’s going to be a fantastic show with the most amazing cast. You guys are certainly going to give the rest of us a lot to live up to.”

Rachel sat down next to Kurt, sipping at her wine. “I can’t believe it’s almost here,” she marveled. “After all the work we’ve done… it feels almost unreal.”

“Well, for all I’ve heard you bitching about it,” Santana teased with a lack of any real venom, knowing just how to needle her friend. “I’m just glad that it’s almost over and we can get back to our normal level of insanity around here.”

Dani was sitting on the floor, leaning against Santana’s legs so that her girlfriend could play with her hair. “Oh, knock it off,” she reprimanded playfully, giving Santana’s thigh a little pinch. “You’re just as excited as the rest of us about seeing the show.”

Elliot nodded in agreement. “True that,” he confirmed happily. “I’m always one for a big spectacle and this one is promising to be huge!”

“Shame that we can’t go to the opening night,” Artie mused regretfully. “I understand that they want the first night for press and VIPs, but that would have been something to see.”

“You’re all coming later in the week,” Kurt reminded him. Between the bank of tickets offered to himself and Rachel for family and friends, they’d managed to reserve tickets for all their friends to see the show at some point.

“I can’t believe that your dad gets to see opening night,” Rachel groused playfully, the glint in her eyes betraying her teasing. “Just because he’s a congressman. My dads were very put out that they have to wait until the second night.”

“At least we’ll have the opening night jitters out of the way,” Kurt consoled. “And any last performance kinks.”

Tina held out her wine glass to be refilled. “Kurt, when is Adam coming to see the show?” she asked. “Maybe Artie and I will wait to do that night, so he doesn’t have to go alone.”

Kurt’s smile froze just for a second, growing slightly brittle before he composed himself. “That’s very nice of you to offer, Tina, but you two should just go on the night you originally planned,” he advised with as much cheer as he could manage.

Rachel frowned, knowing Kurt well enough to see the subtle shift in her friend’s mood. “Adam is coming to see the show, isn’t he?” she asked gently.

Kurt sighed and shook his head, his disappointment over the matter readily apparent.

Santana’s dark eyes sparked with anger. “That asshole!” she spat furiously, offended on her friend’s behalf. “After the way you rushed to Boston to see him?” She started to curse in Spanish, her face becoming flushed as she ranted about the absent Englishman’s lack of consideration.

“Santana, it’s okay,” Kurt insisted, his eyes wide at her response. “I told him that it was okay.”

“Are you kidding me?” Santana snapped, turning a frustrated look to him. “I thought that we were done with you letting people walk all over you!”

Rachel nodded in agreement with their prickly friend. “Kurt, you know that we love Adam and normally, I think he’s really been good for you,” she insisted, not wanting to put Kurt on the defensive about his relationship. “But this is a really big deal for you. You’re not just in the chorus now, and it’s strange that he’s not making more of an effort to come.”

Kurt’s mouth drew into a tight line and Rachel realized that she and Santana had probably overstepped a bit. The mood in the room cooled at the sudden tension the others sensed in their friend.

“Look… I appreciate that you both are worried about me,” he said evenly, clearly making an effort to snap at them because his knew that his friends were acting out of concern. “But Adam and I already spoke about this and I told him that I understood why he wouldn’t be coming.”

He turned a firm stare to Santana, cutting off any chance she had to retort in response. “Adam’s show is moving on to Chicago while we’re in tech,” he explained with measured calmness. “Professionally, this is critical for him. They’re performing at a very prestigious venue, and there’s going to be a lot of media attention on their show. That means critics and agents. After Los Angeles, this is the most important stop on the tour for them and a good showing there might help the chances of them getting picked up for a run in New York.”

He focused his attention then to Rachel, wanting to make sure that he was being clear on things. “To see me, he’d have to fly to New York and then back to Chicago all in one day. And he’d still end up missing an evening’s performance. That’s just too much for him right now,” Kurt insisted firmly. “He can’t be missing shows at this stage and I was the one who told him not to come. I don’t want him stressed out when he needs to be focusing on his work.

That had been a painfully difficult telephone call, listening to Adam frantically looking at flight schedules and trying to work how he could possible fly in to see Kurt’s show without missing any of his own and growing despondent when no workable solution became apparent. Kurt had assured Adam that he wasn’t at all upset because he did understand that Adam would be there if there was any way possible. The timing just wasn’t in their favor this time around and he didn’t want Adam to beat himself up over something that he had no real control over.

Santana frowned, still clearly not happy with the situation but knowing better than to try arguing the point with Kurt. Rachel, however, couldn’t help from pressing the issue.

“Isn’t there any way he can come, just for one day?” she asked plaintively. “I know that he’ll hate missing out on seeing you perform.”

Kurt smiled sadly and shook his head. “He was ready to buy his plane tickets and take the red-eye back to Chicago afterwards, but I talked him out of it,” he explained. “The timing just wasn’t going to work and there will be plenty of other times he’ll get to see me on the stage. But I’m not going to allow him to be made to feel badly that he has to work. Is that clear?”

Santana bit her lip, looking like she was ready to argue the point but relented under Kurt’s adamant stare. “All right,” she granted reluctantly. “I’ll let Lord Fauntleroy off the hook. This time.”

Kurt reached out to pull Santana close, gratified by her willingness to defend him, even against his own boyfriend if need be. “Thank you,” he said gently, kissing her on the forehead. “But really… it’s okay. Don’t hold it against Adam. For me?”

She nodded. “For you,” she promised. “But if he misses your next show…”

Kurt smiled. “I promise that I’ll let you go all Lima Heights on him,” he assured her.

“Hey, just be grateful that your boyfriend at least appreciates what you do,” Analisa chimed in, trying to defuse some of the tension that had intruded on their celebration. “Michael won’t dare miss the show, but all of this just goes right over his head.”

Rachel laughed, nodding in understanding. “I know what you mean. This guy that I started seeing,” she added with a teasing glint in her eyes. “He’s the same way. Neil seems more amused than anything else.”

Elliot chuckled, reaching over to ruffle Kurt’s hair. “There, you see? You might be better off with someone who’s not an actor so he’d always be at your disposal.”

“I still can’t believe that you’re dating my girlfriend’s roommate,” Santana groused at Rachel. “This is incestuous, even by New Directions standards. All we need now is for Kurt to start dating the glitter vampire.”

Kurt shook his head, his mood lightening. “Nah… Elliot’s great but I’ll keep the man that I have,” he insisted lightheartedly, giving Elliot a mischievous wink. As disappointed as he’d been, he was more gratified by Adam’s sincere distress about missing his show that he would be by a partner who wouldn’t truly grasp how important this was for him and just went through the motions of showing dutiful support.

Rachel leaned in to give Kurt a quick kiss on the cheek before heading to the kitchen to refresh some of the snacks being devoured by hungry performers and their friends. As she poured out bags of chips into bowls, she considered just how differently her life had turned out from how she’d expected. She couldn’t say that she was unhappy despite the disappointments and setbacks she’d dealt with, but it wasn’t at all what she’d imagined.

It was with a heavy trace of embarrassment that she recognized just how childish her vision of what she’d thought her life in New York would be when she first stepped off that train with her little pink suitcase. Back then, her head had been filled with immature dreams of near immediate stardom. That she would set foot in New York and her unique talents would be immediately recognized, and she would be launched into nearly instantaneous stardom. And at first, it seemed that was exactly how things would go. Her invite to the Winter Showcase just proved how special she was and that she really did deserve the regard that she’d imagined was her due.

Even Kurt’s presence was imagined as being more of a supporter than a peer, she realized with shame. She hadn’t anticipated having actual friends because of her cutthroat image of what she believed the theater world was like. Her dreams hadn’t included real equals among her classmates and instead found people who were willing to support her but didn’t hesitate to challenge her. It had been difficult to recognize that their dreams and aspirations were just as valid as hers, and that fulling hers didn’t take precedence over theirs. Being taken down a few pegs and nearly flunking out on account of her own arrogance had been humiliating but opened herself up in a way that Rachel knew she never would have otherwise.

New Directions had come to be important to her back in high school. Maybe she had at first seen the group as simple props that allowed her a place to be featured as a performer, but over time they had become the first set of real friends that she could claim in her life. She hadn’t through that she might find a similar situation at NYADA. Not that they weren’t competitive, but she finally understood that it didn’t mean that they couldn’t be supportive of one another and ready to cheer on the successes of others.

Kurt came into the kitchen to help her carry the snacks back to the group and saw the thoughtful expression on her face. “Everything okay?” he asked, popping a chip into his mouth.

She blinked, her thoughts drawn back to the present and turned a warm smile to her dearest friend. “Yes… I was just thinking,” she admitted. She looked at the group gathered in her living room, old friends and new blending and getting along in an easy manner that she’d never experienced before.

“I never thought I would find this again,” she explained. Kurt would understand, she knew. Because Kurt knew her better than anyone else. “Back in high school, the way we all came together… I never thought that we would find anything like that here.”

Kurt nodded, placing his arm about her and pulled her close. “It feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked. “Opening yourself to real friendships. Stardom and fame are all well and good, but I don’t think I’d want any of that if it meant being alone.”

He wouldn’t, she realized, resting hr head against his chest and savoring his warm presence. “There was a time when that was all that was important to me,” she acknowledged. “I don’t know if that was because I didn’t have anyone that I was really close to and I was using being a star as a substitute for having friends.”

Kurt understood where Rachel was coming from. “You know, wanting to be a star isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” he reminded her. “But it’s nice to have people to share it with. You’re not pushing people away to protect yourself anymore.”

Rachel closed her eyes, enjoying the simple pleasure of having her friend with her. He was right, she knew. But then, Kurt was often right about most things. She knew that she could be foolish at times and tended to see success as a zero-sum game. Learning that celebrating the success of someone that she cared about could be nearly as pleasurable as enjoying her own had come as something of a revelation.

“Hey Rachel,” Katya called out, her cheeks rosy from the two glasses of wine she’d already drunk. “I was telling the others what great prostitutes we make. Tell them!”

Rachel laughed brightly, nodding in agreement. “I have to agree,” she confirmed playfully. “I suppose that if we totally fail at acting that we could fall back on that.”

“Uh, yeah… not happening,” Jamie insisted, hugging his giggling his girlfriend from behind and lifting her up as if to pull her away from Rachel’s bad influence. That got the whole group laughing.

Rachel grinned as she and Kurt carried bowls of snacks back to the group. While she couldn’t say with any real honesty that if the opportunity to play Éponine presenting itself that she wouldn’t fight tooth and nail to get it, she wouldn’t trade a moment like this for anything.

* * *

Niall looked to his roommate as he pulled on his jacket. “I’ll just go out with the others for a pint or two,” he confirmed. “That should give you both a little privacy.”

Adam smiled gratefully. “Thanks mate,” he said sincerely. “I owe you one.”

The other Englishman just shrugged. “It’s not like I haven’t kicked you out to get some alone time for Cynthia and me,” he reminded. “I know that once he goes into tech, you’re not going to be speaking with him much.”

Adam nodded morosely. If they spoke late at night after he got back from the theater for five minutes before they fell asleep, they’d be lucky. And then once Kurt’s show started it’s run… this might be their last “date night” for the next couple of weeks.

Niall patted his friend on the shoulder. “Say hi to Kurt for me,” he urged as he slipped into his jacket. “See you later.”

Refusing to dwell on his concerns about what the next few weeks might entail, Adam was determined that this would be a cheerful talk with his lover. He got out his laptop and checked himself in the mirror because Kurt deserved to have him looking decently. He combed his hair and checked that his shirt was clean before settling down on his bed and opening the Skype program, waiting for Kurt to log in.

It was about ten minutes later that a chime alerted Adam that Kurt was on-line, and a video screen appeared. When Kurt’s fact came into focus, Adam felt his spirts lift immediately.

“Hello sweetheart,” he greeted cheerfully, his smile so wide that he thought his face might crack.

“Hi honey!” Kurt chirped back, settling down comfortably in front of his computer. “How did your show go tonight?”

“Splendid as always,” Adam assured him. “We’re at the point where we’re all really comfortable with things and can play around a bit more with the staging.”

“And Dad and Carole are treating you well?” Kurt asked.

“If your stepmum feeds me anymore, I won’t fit in my costume,” Adam complained teasingly. “She seems to think that we’re being starved on the road.”

“I did warn you,” the younger man laughed. “But better you than me, right now. The last thing our costumers need is to completely remake my costumes because I put on a few pounds.”

“Ohh… does that mean there are tight pants?” Adam asked, waggling his eyebrows teasingly. “I mean, Enjolras is supposed to be very sexy.”

Kurt laughed brightly, reclining on his side so he could be seen more clearly. “You’ll just have to wait to see the dress rehearsal photos,” he warned. “But I do have it on the word of some of the girls that I should have nothing to complain about.”

“How are the girls?” Adam asked, leaning back. “Has Rachel totally lost her mind yet?”

Kurt grinned and shook his head. “Surprisingly, no. She’s actually been in a really good place,” he assured his boyfriend. “I can’t believe sometimes just how different she is compared to last year. I’d probably be going completely insane if it weren’t for her. She and Santana have been pretty amazing.”

Adam smiled, pleased that Kurt was getting the level of support that he needed.

“And I can’t believe how Rachel has really teamed up with Analisa and Katya,” Kurt informed him. “It’s like they’re forming their own girl gang.”

“That’s good, sweetheart,” Adam reminded him. “She needs to make more friends.”

“I do think it’s really helping her,” Kurt agreed. “I just never thought that I’d see her like this. You would think that she’d be going nuts, plotting how to get them to give her Éponine. But she really seems invested in her roles and I think she’s going to be amazing.”

Adam nodded, but it wasn’t Rachel’s well-being that he was concerned about.

“How are you, darling?” he asked gently. “I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

Kurt sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’m okay,” he insisted. “Just a little tired. At least I’ve got the weekend to relax before we go into tech.”

“Promise me that you will actually relax,” Adam urged, not hiding his concern for the younger man. One of the things that he loved best about Kurt was how dedicated he was, and his drive was nothing short of a wonder to behold. But he knew that Kurt would push himself to the point of breaking and when facing the kind of challenge that he was, Adam wouldn’t put it past him to spend the weekend practicing on his own.

“I will,” Kurt swore. “I know that if I don’t give myself some down time, I’m going to be totally burned out by the end of our run. And I still have the rest of the semester to get through.”

“Good. So, tell me everything,” Adam urged.

“What’s to tell?” Kurt commented, shrugging a bit. “The whole cast is absolutely amazing and when we do the big group numbers… it’s amazing to be a part of something like that. I’ve never heard those songs sound like that.”

Adam smiled, pleased that Kurt’s production was going well. “I’m so looking forward to seeing what the school elects to post on line.”

“Part of me is glad that I’m being kept so busy,” Kurt chuckled, the glint of self-deprecating humor apparent even over the computer monitor. “This way I don’t have time to worry that I’m biting off more than I can chew.”

“You’re going to be splendid, darling,” Adam insisted, smiling gently at his lover. For all the encouragement that Kurt had lavished on him over the past months, he was more than happy to return the favor.

“Well, if we’re not all totally insane by opening night, it’ll be a minor miracle,” Kurt claimed. “Professor Carmody is amazing, but she is such a perfectionist! I’m praying that one of her assistants is keeping a stash of Valium because if she’s this bad during general rehearsals, I’m kind of dreading what she’s going to be like during tech.”

Adam nodded understandingly, having just endured such a trial himself. “You’re going to be fine,” he assured the younger man. “I don’t know anyone else who handles pressure as well as you do. And knowing you, you’re going so focused on keeping Rachel and your friends from losing their minds that you’ll hardly have a moment to worry about yourself.”

Kurt turning a loving stare to his lover, the miles that separated them suddenly not so very apparent. Adam wished that he could reach out to take Kurt’s hand, to give him a bit of physical comfort. He so very missed the feel of Kurt’s lean body tucked in against his.

“I wish I was there with you,” he sighed longingly. “I just want to hold you and help you carry this.”

“You are helping,” Kurt claimed adamantly. “I would never have been able to get through this without you.”

Adam felt his throat tighten at the clear love coming through Kurt’s voice. “Don’t sell yourself short, love,” he warned gently. “You’re the strongest person I know. I don’t think that there is any challenge that you can’t win.

“But let’s talk about less stressful things,” Adam suggested, sensing that Kurt needed a bit of distraction. “It’s hard to focus on business when you’re sitting there looking so delectable.”

Kurt laughed brightly, the stress evaporating with the shift in conversation. “Well, be glad that I’m not there, because your roommate would have plenty to complain about by the time I was done with you.”

Adam licked his lips, feeling the front of his jeans growing a bit snug at the heated tone in Kurt’s voice. “Well, the same goes for you, darling,” he warned. “I think that the whole dorm would be well aware of what we were up do with the way I would have you screaming.”

Kurt’s eyes seemed to glaze over a bit at the teasing threat. “If I remember correctly, on our last night in New York I was the one who had you screaming. I’m surprised that our neighbors didn’t call the police.”

Adam shifted as the hardness in his pants pressed uncomfortably against his fly. “That’s not fair, darling,” he complained. “Starting something that you can’t finish.”

“Oh? Who said that I can’t finish it?” Kurt asked impishly with a sly look in his eyes.

Adam felt his mouth dry, realizing just what Kurt had in mind. That cheeky little…

“If I were there right now, I’d be knocking on your hotel door, knowing that you were inside waiting for me,” Kurt informed him. “And the instant that the door opened, I’d be on you.”

“Oh, I wish you would be at my door,” Adam moaned, closing his eyes. “I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too,” Kurt assured him with a warm smile. “Which is why when I see you, I just jump into your arms and start kissing you like crazy. It feels so good being in your arms and the world could end at that moment, but it would matter because I’m with you.”

“So, what would you do if you were in my arms?” Adam prompted with a grin, letting Kurt take control of the fantasy.

The younger man inhaled, and Adam could see the beginnings of an intriguing flush beginning to color his cheeks and throat. He wished that they could be in the same room, so that his lips and fingers could follow that line of color and see how far down he could make it go.

“We’d kiss for what seemed like hours,” Kurt informed him, a slightly breathy tone coming out in his voice. “I love kissing you… my tongue in your mouth and feeling you pressing me up against the wall.”

“Mmmm…,” Adam moaned agreeably, the image coming to life in his mind. Kurt loved all physical aspects of their relationship, but he especially loved the intimacy of kissing and would happily spend hours doing just that. He remembered how Kurt would writhe against him, their tongues wrestling and washing over one another’s teeth. Kurt would grasp at him, moaning against his mouth.

“We’d best close the door,” the older man advised with a wry smile. “No need to have the whole floor as an audience.”

Kurt shrugged, playing at indifference. “I’d be so turned on at seeing you that I wouldn’t care if the whole world was watching. But okay… I manage to kick the door shut behind me.”

“Thank you,” Adam granted with a wink. “Because when I have you flat on your back, I want you all to myself.”

Kurt raised a sardonic eyebrow in response. “Who said that I’d be the one flat on my back?” he asked. “I’m the one running this fantasy.”

“Yes, darling. Of course you are,” Adam chuckled. “Carry on, because it was getting interesting.”

Kurt laughed, his eyes shining mischievously. “Where was I? Oh yeah… you pressing me up against the wall with my tongue down your throat. So, while I’m kissing you, I’m trying to pull your shirt off. What shirt are you wearing?”

Adam knew that Kurt meant in the fantasy and not at the moment, so he selected something that he knew Kurt would immediately recognize. “I’m wearing my blue shirt,” he said, referring to an old garment that he liked to wear when relaxing or doing chores.

“I hate that shirt,” Kurt complained, wrinkling his nose.

Adam just grinned. “I know you do,” he teased, remembering the numerous times his lover threatened to “lose” it in the wash.

“Fine,” Kurt huffed. “Then I rip that ugly, raggedy shirt open and send all the buttons flying.”

Adam couldn’t help from laughing. “That’s one way to make me get rid of it, I suppose.”

“All in a good cause,” Kurt assured him. “I’m pulling the shirt off you and tossing it right into the trash.”

“Well, I’ll have to make you pay for ruining my favorite shirt, my lad,” Adam warned. “I shove you up against the wall hard and force my knee between your legs. My thigh is pressed up against your crotch and I feel that lovely cock hardening.”

Kurt swallowed hard, his breath visibly quickening. “I always loved how strong you are,” he mused dreamily. “You can just pick me up and do whatever you want.”

Adam grinned, seeing the flush deepening across Kurt’s face and knowing that his own hue had gone equally rosy. “You’re just as strong, sweetheart,” he reminded, a bit needlessly in his opinion. “That’s one of the things that always has me marveling. I feel that strong, young body pressing against mine and know that you’re only up against that wall because you’re letting me do that.”

“Well, I’m about to use my position to my advantage,” Kurt claimed with a playful wink. “I’ll pulling you against me, and that gives me the chance to spin you around so that you’re backing up against the bed.”

Adam couldn’t help from laughing. “Yes you did, clever boy,” he praised. He couldn’t resist reaching down to undo the button on his jeans and easing down the zipper, releasing some of the pressure on his cock. He gave the hard flesh a gentle palming, biting his lip to keep from moaning.

“You’re touching yourself. Aren’t you?” Kurt asked teasingly.

Knowing that there was no use lying, Adam nodded. “I can’t help it,” he claimed. “Just listening to you…”

“Well, it’s about to get better,” Kurt insisted with a chuckle. “I’ve got my tongue so far down your throat that I can feel your tonsils.”

“Which I had removed when I was eight,” Adam teased, earning a glare of admonishment from his lover.

“Just for that, I hook my leg behind your knee and knock you down to the bed and pin you there,” Kurt informed him. “And before you can do anything, I’m on top of you.”

“I can’t say that I’m complaining about this in any way, shape or form,” Adam claimed. He squeezed at his cock, enjoying the feel of his hand cupping the sensitive flesh contained in his underwear.

Over the screen, he could see Kurt shift and wriggle a bit. “What are you doing there?” he asked curiously, finding Kurt’s flexible writhing most intriguing.

“Getting my pants off,” Kurt grunted as he wiggled out of his snug jeans. “They’re cutting off circulation to my dick.”

Adam saw a flash of pale thighs capped by the soft dove grey of Kurt’s favored brand of boxer briefs. The front of Kurt’s underwear was straining to contain his swelling cock, and Adam’s mouth began to water in anticipation.

“Are you going to take those off?” he asked, his accent thick.

Kurt smiled and made sure that his computer was positioned so Adam could watch him slowly rolling down the band of his underpants and carefully sliding them down over his hips bones, showing off the lines of defined muscle that seemed to make an arrow pointing to what Adam really wanted. Adam could see the length of Kurt’s hardness freed, bobbing in front of his neatly trimmed pubes. He slid the briefs down over his long legs before tossing them to the side, letting Adam get a good look.

“You next,” Kurt ordered, looking no less commanding for sitting there wearing nothing but a tee shirt. “Let me see what you’ve got for me.”

It took some carefully maneuvering, but Adam wanted to make sure that he gave his lover a show. He peeled off his shirt, giving Kurt a good view of his bare chest dusted with dark blond hair over his sternum and trailing down to the top of his briefs. With a neat motion, he slid his underwear and jeans down his legs and kicked them away, leaving himself bare as the day he was born for Kurt’s viewing pleasure.

“Like what you see?” he asked playfully.

Kurt nodded. “Always. Damn… you’re gorgeous.”

“So… what else do you have in this little fantasy of yours?” Adam asked, leaning back with his legs spread comfortably. One hand lazily reached down to his groin, playing with the give of foreskin over his length.

“Not much,” Kurt admitted. “Just something about fucking you into tomorrow, but watching you do that is rather engaging.”

“You could join me,” Adam invited teasingly.

Kurt smiled wickedly, shucking off his shirt.

* * *

Tech week started Monday morning, bright and early. Kurt arrived an hour before the rehearsals were officially supposed to begin, carrying his makeup kit and a backpack that he filled with bottles of water and snacks to sustain him through what promised to be a very long day. Upon stepping through the stage door, he found a sea of what appeared to be barely organized chaos awaiting him. Several of Professor Carmody’s student assistants were trying to direct everyone to where they needed to be, with several tables set up for each of the groups to make some attempt at organization. He saw the sign for the actors and got on line to check in.

The harried student looked up at him and checked him off the list. “Okay, Kurt… you’ve got table number five in dressing room two,” he advised. “Just drop your stuff off and head back to the theater. You’ll have time later on to set up your table, but Professor Carmody wants to start promptly.”

“Thanks,” Kurt said sincerely, knowing that the students assisting the production side of things had have been run ragged in the leadup to tech. Hoisting the strap for his makeup kit over his shoulder, he set out to find his dressing place.

There were several dressing rooms and his table was assigned to one of the smaller rooms where he wouldn’t have to share with so many people. His name was marked on a piece of tape above the mirror and a rack with his costumes, neatly stored away in garment bags to keep them from getting stained while in transport from the school shop.

He placed his makeup kit down on the table and took a moment to get his bearings. He had to admit that the costuming team was very much on the ball in making sure that everything was neatly in its place, right down to the photos taped next to his mirror to show how his makeup and hair should be done. Nodding to himself in approval, he carried his backpack into the theater and looked about for his friends in the swarm of actors and crew.

He made quick greetings to his Apples and classmates before finding Rachel. “Sorry I’m late,” he apologized. “I needed to stop at the store to pick up a few things.”

“I just got here a few minutes ago myself,” she assured him, taking a sip of her iced coffee. “I was hoping to get here a bit earlier, but the subway was a mess.”

Kurt nodded sympathetically. With the long hours they were facing, getting to and from the theater was going to be a headache for all of them but it was part of the price that had to be paid in their profession. He was just thankful that he didn’t have to travel all the way to Brooklyn and he knew that he could be back in his bed an hour after rehearsals ended.

Rachel reached into her purse and pulled out a hair band, neatly pulling her hair into a pony tail and tying it off so that it wouldn’t be in her face all day. They were both dressed comfortably in clothes that they could move easily in. Fortunately, they didn’t expect to be doing anything in costume for another day or so.

They watched as the teach teams began to get things ready on stage, and musicians began tuning their instruments. This would be their first chance to rehearse the show with live music, and while that would enhance the sound of their performances it was another factor that they would have to adjust for. Learning to keep going if a note is played out of tune and both musicians and singers learning to keep in time with one another was something that they would have to always keep in mind.

“I’m not going to lie,” Rachel confided, a nervous smile touching her face. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Me too,” he confessed, taking her hand in his to give it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ve never done a whole show with live music,” she admitted. “It’s not like when we just do one song with back up. This is so real…”

He nodded in understanding. Any of the plays and musicals they’d done in high school were with recorded music. And the music for his shows with the Shakespeare festival were recorded because live musicians would have been too expensive. This would be a new experience for the both of them.

“I know. But we’ve been working our whole lives for this moment,” he reminded her with a smile. “It’s just one more challenge to get past.”

“You know, I can’t wait for opening night,” Rachel insisted. “But I can’t help from worry that it’s so close and we’re not ready.”

Kurt understood Rachel’s reservations, because he knew that they were. They had all worked so hard for the past few months and he understood that seeing the light at the end of the tunnel could be frightening. You never could be sure if it was because you were reaching your goal, or that a freight train was bearing down on you. All they could do was continue to work to the best of their ability and face the challenge with as much confidence as they could manage.

When Professor Carmody stepped onto the stage to greet them, the entire group fell immediately silent. They’d had enough experience to be well trained and responsive at this point. She looked tired and a bit frazzled and Kurt knew that however hard the cast and techs thought they were working, it was likely nothing compared to the burden the teacher had been bearing.

“Good morning everyone,” she greeted, offering the students a warm smile. “Before we get started today, I wanted to commend you all for all your hard work and that we would never have gotten to this point without your remarkable talent, drive and perseverance.

“Now, the next few days are going to be very challenging,” she warned. “We have a big hurdle, bringing all the pieces of our production together and not a lot of time to do so. So these are going to be very long days and I’m sure that there will be quite a few stumbles. But I have no doubt that we will be more than ready by our opening night.”

Kurt nodded to himself, pursing his lip thoughtfully. It wasn’t anything he wasn’t expecting.

“Now our young actors will be joining when they’re done with school to do their scenes and I’ve assigned stand-ins so we can work until they get here,” Professor Carmody informed them. “Today we’re going to be focusing on individual scenes and working on blocking with the sets and props, but tomorrow we’ll be doing full run-throughs of the show. We have a lot to do today so let’s get started.

“Audio team, please get the players for the opening numbers set up,” she commanded. “Lighting and set teams, please get to your stations.”

As their director retreated to her desk set up at the center of the orchestra section, the group hurried to take their places. The students not on stage went to the backstage wings where they could watch and be prepared to be called upon. He watched as a student set up Rachel with her mic pack and carefully fastening the wire so that the tiny sensor would be nearly hidden by her hairline and not easily seen from the audience. As he watched the actors playing guards and prisoners took their places on the stage, Kurt felt a brief pang of regret that he wouldn’t be joining them. He was going to have to wait quite a while for his turn.

* * *

Maybe it wasn’t opening night, Rachel considered as she found her mark on the stage while the music began to swell around her. Maybe it wasn’t a lead part, but that didn’t lessen her excitement in the least. She wrapped a shawl about her shoulders and took a huddled, stooped pose so that she would look like the starving beggar that she was supposed to be. Around her there were other students taking their places as the downtrodden citizens, each wearing an expression of desperation as the music played, setting the tone for everything that would follow. With so many singers, she knew that it would be a pretty astounding performance.

“At the end of the day, you’re another day older,” they sang while the lights slowly came on to cast haunting shadows across the stage. “And that’s all you can say in the life of the poor. It’s a struggle, it’s a war. And there’s nothing that anyone’s giving. One more day standing about, what is it for?

“One less day to be living.”

The group began to move towards the front of the stage, showing the physical effects of freezing in the chill air and prolonged near-starvation as mist generated by the fog machines washed over them to give the impression of a freezing snap in the air. One young man limped with the aid of a crutch, while others tried to help the weaker among them along. Rachel shuffled with them, pulling her tattered shawl about her as tightly as she could.

“At the end of the day, you’re another day colder,” they moaned piteously. “And the shirt on your back doesn’t keep out the chill. And the righteous hurry past, they don’t hear the little ones crying. And the plague is coming on fast, ready to kill.

“One day closer to closer to dying!”

“Stop!” Professor Carmody ordered from her desk, and the action on the stage immediately ceased performing, waiting for her instructions.

“Audio, check your settings. We’re not getting clear sound from about half the group,” she instructed firmly, speaking into her microphone so that they could easily hear her. “There’s no sound coming from the left side of the stage. Get that sorted out, please. We don’t need sound issues this early in the process.”

Without argument, the group hurried to take their starting marks and the stage lights dimmed. Rachel took a breath to mentally regroup, trying not to scratch where the microphone was taped to her skin. It was hard to judge how they really sounded from the stage and she knew that there would be a lot of start and stop throughout the day and it would be a challenge to avoid getting frustrated at not being able to run through songs completely.

Once the audio team had finished their adjustments, Professor Carmody leaned forward in her seat. “Let’s take it from the start, people,” she ordered.

The musicians began to play the opening strains of the song and the actors took their marks and started the song again, giving as much effort as they gave the first time around and hoping that they could get through the number without more technical issues.

The stagehands lowered a gate made to look like wrought iron that prevented the beggars from moving closer and several of the cast ended up pressed against the bars, separated from the prospect of work in the factory. Rachel stretched through with one arm, reaching with desperate supplication, her expression pleading for help.

This was her favorite part. Where the chorus voices began to separate and layer, building upon one another to create a remarkable wall of sound. Even from the stage, it sounded absolutely gorgeous.

“At the end of the day there’s another day dawning. And the sun in the morning is waiting to rise! Like the wave crash on the sand. Like a storm that’ll break any second! There’s a hunger in the land. There’s a reckoning still to be reckoned and there’s gonna be hell to pay! At the end of the day!”

The factory foreman stepped behind his podium as the gate parted and the beggars scattered off the stage, letting the factory workers take their places at their work table. The student playing the foreman then began to sing his warning to the workers, who acquiesced to his unreasonable demands out of fear of being fired. The actress playing Fantine stoically endured the foreman’s course advances and the jealous sniping of her peers who seemed to be taking pleasure in her misery.

Rachel watched the scene from the wings, paying careful attention to the time. While all this was going on, she would have to be changing costumes and doing her makeup for the “Lovely Ladies” scene. Then she had another costume and makeup change for “Master of the House”. Managing her time off stage was going to be critical so that she didn’t miss her cues.

Now seeing the cast acting against the grand sets and hearing their voices fill the beautiful theater thrilled her in a way that she couldn’t have imagined. For however jaded they might be, seeing this production truly starting to come to life was one of the most exciting things she’d ever experienced. She could not be more proud of not just what they were all accomplishing, but her own contribution.

* * *

When they finally broke for lunch, Rachel felt positively drained. They’d had to stop multiple times, ironing out the technical and staging that showed as they ran through the first few numbers of the show. It was stressful with all the interruptions that didn’t let them run things through and the constant changes and corrections was already starting to wear on her.

Kurt had the opposite problem, as his character didn’t appear in the show until much later so he’d been standing around with nothing to do except watch the same scene played a few dozen times. She wasn’t quite sure what was worse.

“I warned you,” Kurt chuckled as Rachel slumped into her seat. “Being in the chorus is a more work than a lot of the major roles.”

“You don’t have to gloat,” she whined, stretching out her legs so she could rotate her ankles. “My feet are killing me.”

“Well, you’d better pace yourself,” Kurt advised. “We’re barely started.”

She nodded and sighed. They both had a lot of work ahead of them.

#kadam fic #learning to fly #kurt hummel #adam crawford #rachel berry #santana lopez #elliot starchild gilbert #dani #platonic starkurt #nyada students #original characters #tons of theater stuff #not blaine or klaine friendly

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doctortreklock · 5 years ago

Text

Full of History and Secrets - August 13, 2019

Part of my Resolution19. Read it on AO3.

Prompt: Mutually oblivious ineffable husbands AU (x)

Fandom: Good Omens

Title: "Night Vale is an ancient place. Full of history and secrets, as we were reminded today." Welcome to Night Vale, Ep. 4

Words: 8239

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They'd met at St. Patrick's Catholic Church in Soho Square, London in 1967. Crowley had been very carefully wrapping up a long-planned heist to acquire a bottle of holy water. It sounded like Hell was making big plans, and a demon on his own couldn't be too careful.

He'd just turned away from the font, the nearly-full bottle carefully sealed and held gingerly in two gloved hands, when the divine heat radiating from the floor became too much and he'd winced, pulling one foot up slightly and off-balancing himself enough that the bottle had slipped against the leather of his gloves and fallen out of his reach.

Crowley had watched in horror as the glass jar fell, absently calculating the trajectory of the splashing liquid when the bottle broke. How much of his trousers would get wet? Was enough of his ankle showing for him to be instantly dissolved, or would it take time for the water to soak through the fabric of his trousers?

Just before the jar hit the marble floor, however, a hand caught it and Crowley looked up to meet the eyes of a slightly shorter man wearing tartan, a bow tie, and a jacket cut in a style popular when Victoria had been queen.

"Here you go," the man said, handing the bottle back to Crowley. "Careful that you don't drop it again; that glass would be quite a bother to clean up."

He had the warmest blue eyes Crowley had ever seen. He was suddenly struck by the insane desire to see those eyes for the rest of his unnatural life.

He blankly nodded his thanks, reeling from the realization, and the man turned to go. Before he could stop himself, Crowley had blurted out "Would you like to grab a drink? As thanks," he clarified when the man looked surprised.

"I would be delighted," the man said slowly, as if he was surprised to find himself delighted at all, but not at all unhappy about the realization.

"I'm Crowley," he said. "Anthony Crowley, but most people call me Crowley." He cradled the sealed glass bottle carefully against his body to prevent any unforeseen breakage and held out his other hand.

"Ezra Fell," the man said. "I sometimes go by Zira."

He shook the offered hand and smiled. It was a warm smile, full of good humor, and for an instant, Crowley didn't even notice the temperature of the floor.

One drink had turned into several drinks which had turned into dinner and then an invitation back to Zira's bookshop. Three drinks in, Crowley had accidentally let his sunglasses slip down the bridge of his nose, but Zira's only reaction to his unnatural eyes had been a murmured "beautiful." Crowley had blushed to his toes. The evening hadn't gone further than two bottles of wine and a conversation about misprinted Bibles, but Zira hadn't seemed interested in anything more.

Crowley wasn't sure if he was relieved (because no matter how much he liked the man, "making an effort" always seemed like too much effort to bother) or disappointed (because he did very much enjoy spending time with the man and platonic relationships rarely had the intimacy or longevity that he was daydreaming about).

He needn't have worried. Crowley had given him the telephone number for his Mayfair flat, and Zira had called the next day, asking if he'd be interested in a turn about St. James Park and perhaps a spot of tea at the Ritz.

A walk and tea had turned into another evening spent at the bookshop. Crowley ordered take-out, and the pair spent the evening comparing all the places they had been. Zira seemed remarkably well-traveled for a man of his age, and Crowley was hard-pressed to name locations neither of them had ever been to.

Wine made another appearance, but Crowley was careful not to over-imbibe this time. Miraculous sobriety would be difficult to attain with a witness and he needed to stay on his toes. Zira was deceptively easy to talk to, and Crowley was finding it hard to keep censoring himself. He had to, though; it would be impossible to explain to a mortal how he'd watched the Romans paint their statues and then convinced the amateur archaeologists that really, scrubbing the paint off wasn't so bad fourteen hundred years later.

"I was at the Hanging Gardens once," Crowley reminisced. Then he remembered himself. "Er, where they think the Hanging Gardens were," he corrected. "They had seventeen different kinds of dates," he said wistfully. "According to this archaeology article I read in a magazine once," he added.

Zira didn't seem to find this at all odd.

"I was in Normandy around 10--er, 10 years ago. Took a good look at the Bayeux Tapestry," Zira told him. "It's aged pretty well. Shame about the missing bit at the end, though." He frowned. "I'm certain the last section was very lovely."

"Can I hold your hand?" Crowley blurted out. Then, appalled at himself, he flushed both hot and cold at once.

Zira looked startled, but not upset, which was much better than the alternative. Crowley had only just met the man the day before, but he was a kindred spirit of a sort he'd never found before, and Crowley was captivated despite himself. The last six thousand years had been much, much too lonely without anyone like Zira to spend time with. He would happily spend the rest of Zira's life with him, if that was what it took to memorize the way the bookseller's nose crinkled when he laughed.

"I'm sorry," Crowley said miserably, already berating himself for his impulsiveness. Just because England had just decriminalized homosexuality and Zira wore a bow tie and smiled at him didn't mean this was going to end in anything but tears. "Please don't be mad. Forget I asked."

"Not at all, my dear," Zira said, and rested his hand on top of Crowley's where it was curled loosely around the stem of his wineglass. "I'm not sure why you think I would be angry at you. It may be the 1960s, but I spent a lot of time with Oscar Wilde, er, Oscar Wilde novels when I was younger." He smiled then, and it crinkled his nose and the skin around his eyes, and Crowley was suddenly very, very glad that his corporation didn't need oxygen to survive, because he was finding it very difficult to breathe.

"Er," and Zira hesitated then, starting to draw back his hand. "You should know, though, that I've never...with anyone. I've just never felt the need to, and it's not that I don't like you, my dear, but it would be disingenuous to--"

He broke off. Crowley had reached his hand out and grabbed Zira's before it could fully withdraw, lacing their fingers together. "Me, too," he said simply. "Me, too, angel." And he wasn't sure where the nickname came from, but it made Zira smile again, wide and happy, so Crowley resolved then and there to use it as much as possible for the rest of all the eternity they could have.

"I'm glad," Zira said quietly. He lifted their joined hands and gently kissed the back of Crowley's fingers. Then he cleared his throat and told Crowley about his trip to Indonesia about "oh, fifteen years back, I believe." The whole time, he rubbed his thumb absently across the side of Crowley's palm.

They didn't let go all evening. It was the best night of Crowley's very, very long life.

He moved into Zira's bookshop a month later.

The pair had been living together quite happily for just over forty years when Crowley came home one late night, white as a sheet.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Zira asked, obviously concerned, closing his book and setting it quickly aside. He hadn't even glanced at the page number, and that more than anything told Crowley how awfully he must look right now.

"I..." Crowley didn't know where to start. How did he explain to his partner that the Antichrist had just been delivered into his hands and the Apocalypse was at the door? Not for the first time, Crowley found himself tracing wrinkles and grey hair, marveling at the man who had spent half his mortal lifespan in Crowley's company and found it not at all lacking. Zira was still spry at eighty, but how could Crowley articulate the way that two, three, or even four decades had just been compressed into a mere eleven years?

Zira took his hand and squeezed it gently. "Cup of tea, I should think," he decided. "With a splash of brandy." Crowley trailed after him into the kitchen, not wanting to lose the comfort of the man's company.

Zira settled Crowley in his usual chair, set the water to boiling, and pulled out some digestives that had been sitting in the cupboard. "There you go, my dear," he comforted, running his hands soothingly along Crowley's shoulders. "Have something to eat." He dropped a kiss on the top of Crowley's head before the kettle whistled and he pulled away.

By the time the pair were comfortably settled at the table, each with a cup of tea (though Crowley's was more than half brandy) and a couple digestives, Crowley had decided on the best way to tell the man he loved about what was going on.

"You know how I said I had a work thing?" Zira nodded encouragingly. Crowley sighed and rubbed his forehead, breathing in the fumes from his spiked tea before taking a sip. "Well it got a little complicated."

Zira might have stumbled into Crowley's existence and changed the fabric of his eternity forever, but Crowley was still a demon. Traditional temptations had never appealed to him, but even the most inventive nuisances had lost their charm after he'd met Zira. Unfortunately, he was still a demon, and Hell had quotas to fill.

He'd told Zira that he was independently wealthy, but still consulted on the side for tech companies. (Zira could barely turn a computer on, much less anything else - Crowley even kept the books for the bookstore - so he didn't worry about Zira asking too many questions about his profession.) That allowed him to travel around England, and sometimes even farther afield, getting up to the sort of mischief that Hell would find acceptable. Zira traveled quite a bit as well, meeting up with various rare book collectors across the world, so it wasn't a big deal. They tried to line up their schedules so as to be gone at the same time, though. Neither one of them liked staying in the bookshop by themselves.

He'd been summoned to a late meeting, he'd told Zira. Just a quick pop over to the west side of London, he'd be back before bedtime, he'd promised. It was now considerably later than their customary bedtime and a "quick pop" to Slough had turned into a hair-raising trip past Amersham with Lucifer's child in the backseat.

"One of my...colleagues just had a child," he improvised. "I'm...concerned about his parenting techniques."

Zira frowned and covered one of Crowley's hands with his own, mimicking their second night together. As always, Crowley threaded his fingers through his partner's. He had to be more careful about it these days: Zira's hands were fragile with age and Crowley had let arthritis creep into his own. But the feel of Zira's fingers warm around his never failed to make Crowley's breath catch in his chest.

"Can you call the NSPCC?" Zira asked, drawing Crowley's focus back to the problem child in the metaphorical room. "Aren't there people for this sort of thing?"

"I don't have anything concrete," Crowley admitted. The idea of setting the National Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children on the American ambassador and his family was amusing, but Crowley shuddered to think of the punishment that would await him Below for the idea. "Just a feeling that they're going to raise him...wrong."

Zira sipped his own tea, his forehead furrowed in concentration. This was why Crowley loved him. Because he would stay up too late on a Wednesday night and give his full attention to any odd problem, just because Crowley need him to. Again, Crowley traced his eyes over wrinkled features that were more dear to him than he'd ever thought possible. He'd shied away from imagining what his life would be like after Zira was-- The one time he'd attempted it, he'd had a terrible panic attack and Zira had had to coax him out of bed with tea and sugar cookies.

Now, with the horror of the looming Apocalypse still quickening the blood in his veins, he let himself think of a world that would end in eleven years. That would cut short Zira's life, yes, but might also end his. The Apocalypse didn't look nearly as bad with the promise that he wouldn't have to keep living for centuries after Zira's-- But Zira would never forgive him for that kind of thinking. Not his beloved Zira, who adored such human mundanities as dusty first editions, tea at the Ritz, and sushi restaurants.

Zira put his teacup down softly. "I'm sorry, my dear," he said gently. "I'm not sure what we can do. It's not as if we could raise the child ourselves. I'm sure the parents would object if nothing else, and-- My dear?"

Crowley loosened his grip from where he had suddenly clenched tightly around Zira's fingers in realization. "Angel," he breathed, excitement and hope blossoming in his chest.

"What is it, Crowley?" Zira asked.

"We--" Crowley stopped. He looked back down at where their fingers were intertwined. At the age spots on the back of Zira's hand and the way the skin was loose around his partner's delicate bones. He looked at Zira's face and saw the wrinkles that each year had painted on his features. His heart sank. He couldn't ask such a thing of Zira. Not after so many years of putting up with Crowley. He had earned every evening sitting with his books by the fire. He carefully lifted their hands and settled a gentle kiss on Zira's thin skin. "Nothing, angel," he murmured.

Zira hrumhphed and sharply pulled his hand out of Crowley’s grip, using the hand to lift Crowley’s chin until he met Zira’s eyes.

"Anthony James Crowley," Zira began, scolding Crowley. "I may be old, but I am not infirm. Whatever you have in mind, I promise it's not going to put me in the ground." Crowley’s wince must have been obvious because Zira's voice softened and his grip turned into more of a caress. "I promise you, my dear," he said gently. "It would take much more than whatever scheme you've concocted to get rid of me. Now tell me," he demanded. "Or I’m going to eat all the raisins out of your cereal."

And he would do it, too. That was another reason Crowley loved Zira. He might be the best of humanity and the best person Crowley had ever met, but he was also just enough of a bastard to be worth liking.

Crowley relented. He folded both his hands around Zira's. "We could--and I know this sounds crazy, angel, I do--but we could help raise the kid. The family's wealthy and I've never actually met either of the parents. We could be, I don't know, surrogate grandparents, nanny and gardener, tutors, I don't know."

Zira didn't respond right away, and Crowley's shoulders drooped a little. "It sounds crazy. I know. There's no real reason to, and..."

"It does sound a little...extreme," Zira said carefully, not moving his hands from Crowley's hold. His blue eyes were searching. "It means this much to you?"

Crowley didn't know how to explain how much, so he just nodded.

Zira pulled one of his hands loose so he could place it on top of Crowley's and pat them gently. "Then that's what we shall do, my dear."

Raising Warlock Dowling with Zira was like nothing Crowley could have predicted. He hadn't anticipated how animated Zira would become when working with such a small child.

Crowley had taken the role of gardener, keeping an eye on the family from a distance and making sure his effect on the boy would be lessened. It wouldn't do to have unbalanced infernal influence on the Antichrist, after all. He'd made sure Zira got the nanny job, ensuring him plenty of shade and rest. Zira had given him a knowing look when Crowley had returned from the Dowlings' estate and announced that he'd found them both employ, but hadn't protested, which Crowley had taken as grudging acceptance.

Crowley had never had the inclination to imagine other lives with Zira. Why would he, when he had everything he'd never known he needed right in front of him? He'd never imagined meeting Zira during the Roman Empire or the French Revolution, because that would mean he would already be living in a post-Zira world, and that was unacceptable, no matter how much he thought Zira might have enjoyed meeting Virgil. He never allowed himself to imagine a universe where Zira was as immortal as he was. Another demon, or maybe an angel. Even a horseman or some other entity. He never let himself imagine, because that was far too painful.

He'd never imagined raising children with Zira. For one, he was a demon. For another, when they met, Zira had been a bachelor in his forties and Crowley had been a bachelor who appeared to be in his forties. There had been no space in their relationship to consider marriage and no chance of anything approaching adoption. Don't get him wrong, Crowley didn't need anything other than what he had. He had Zira, despite all odds, and that was more than enough for him.

Watching Zira with Warlock, though...Crowley began to realize the sort of shape that daydream might have taken.

Warlock's eleventh birthday eventually came, bringing with it two dozen of the most spoiled children in London, Zira's grand reveal that he'd practiced stage magic in his early twenties, and an overall increase in Crowley's stress to a severely unhealthy level.

Crowley's attention had been fractured by so many different things that he didn't realize until his partner had taken the stage that he'd yet to actually see Zira do any sleight of hand. It was so disheartening to see the man he loved being ridiculed by a gaggle of pre-teens, that Crowley turned all the agents' guns into water pistols and let the kids at it. He'd waded through the mess to find Zira and subtly corralled him back to the Bentley. It wasn't until they were both seated in the front seat and Crowley was cleaning cream cake off of Zira's lapel that he realized it was ten after eleven. The hellhound had never shown.

He must have frozen, because the next thing he knew was Zira gently prying his hands free and squeezing them gently, calling his name. "Crowley?"

Crowley blinked and shook his head. "What is it, angel?" he asked, slipping a hand free and wiping off the last smudge of cream on the light fabric.

"I was about to ask you the same question," Zira said in amusement. "Where's your head at, my dear?"

Crowley kept his eyes fixed on the lapel under his fingers, brushing away nonexistent crumbs. "I--" he broke off. "I think our work here is done, angel."

"What makes you say that, Crowley? Just last month you were insisting we stay through his birthday and maybe longer." Zira rubbed his thumb across the hand still in his possession.

How was he supposed to respond to that? Oh, angel, sorry that I didn't tell you, but we were supposed to be looking after the Antichrist for the last decade, but, whoops, I think it was the wrong kid? He could never say that. Even if Zira did believe him, it would take admitting that he was a demon, and that wasn't ever something Crowley wanted Zira to know about him.

"We couldn't leave before his birthday," Crowley settled on. "Birthdays mean something to boys of that age. But I think it's time we move on, Zira." He met his partner's eyes and tried for a warm smile. "I've missed spending time just with you."

His smile must have worked, because Zira relaxed and smiled back, tucking one hand around the side of Crowley's face and gently stroking his cheek with a thumb. "I've missed you as well, my dear. It's just not the same now, is it? Why don't we go home, and we can spend as much time together as we like."

At that, Crowley had to lean forward to rest his head against Zira's shoulder to hide his expression. As much time together as they'd like. What a cosmic joke. They had maybe, what, four, five days before Armageddon kicked off in earnest?

"I'd like that, angel," he said, his voice muffled by Zira's jacket and his grip tight on Zira's lapel.

Zira just wrapped his arms around Crowley, running a hand through his hair and rubbing his back soothingly with the other. "Then let's go home, my dear."

Crowley could feel the final countdown of the universe ticking away in the back of his head. Tick, tick, tick. It was driving him mad. He stole every second he could get to rememorize Zira's features over and over again, knowing that those last memories might be the only things he would have to comfort himself during the Great War and whatever came after.

He wasn't sure what he was going to do. Most of him desperately wanted to wrap himself up in Zira and just wait for the world to end, cherishing every last moment he could get. That bit included the quiet voice that told him that Zira was over ninety now, and wouldn't make it too long even if the world didn't end. Another part of him knew how important the Earth and humanity were to Zira and wanted to keep trying to avert the Apocalypse for as long as possible, if for no other reason than to have something to remember him by. A more pragmatic portion of Crowley's consciousness reminded him that Hell would not be pleased by the realization that Warlock Dowling was not the Antichrist after all. That they would come for their vengeance and blow through whatever stood in their way, Zira included.

It was this last bit that Crowley listened to. "Angel, I'm going to pop out for an errand quick," he told Zira after they'd returned to the bookshop that Wednesday. "I should hopefully be home by dinnertime."

Zira, who had been listening to their telephone messages with a steadily deepening crease in his forehead, nodded absently. Then he looked up and gave Crowley a quick but warm smile. "That sounds fine, my dear. I need to go 'round the corner as well. I've got a message from a rare bookseller I know and he wants to meet with me."

By the time Crowley returned to the bookshop, sometime after dinner, he was working hard to dampen his temper. It wasn't Zira's fault that his journey to the Satanic convent in Tadfield had taken longer than expected and had been ultimately fruitless, after all. Despite the best of intentions, he hadn't been able to find anything he could use to placate Below. Instead, he'd gotten lost a few times, accidentally hit a cyclist, and finally found the convent only to discover it was now some kind of extreme team building center and all the records had burnt a decade previous.

He parked the Bentley in her customary spot in front of the bookshop. Just before he got out, he glanced in the rear-view mirror and spotted a book in the backseat that Zira must have left there during one of their previous trips. He grabbed the book without looking at it and let himself into the bookshop.

"Angel?" he called softly. "I'm home."

There was a warm glow coming from the back room, but the tranquil scene he had expected was the opposite of what he found. Zira was sitting in his chair in front of the fire, but he wasn't looking at any of his books. Instead, he was staring at the fire unseeing, and it didn't seem as if he'd even heard Crowley come in.

"Angel? Zira?" Crowley asked more urgently, setting the book in his hand down on the nearest flat surface and moving to kneel in front of his partner, blocking Zira's view of the fireplace.

Zira blinked and his eyes focused on Crowley. "My dear," he said hopelessly. There were tear tracks on his cheeks.

Crowley's heart sank. "What's wrong, angel?" he whispered, pulling the cuff of his shirt up over his palm as much as possible and using it to carefully dry Zira's face.

Zira tried to give him a smile, but it ended up rather crooked. "I must seem a hopeless mess. The person I was meeting with gave me some news I wasn't expecting and...well, it just feels a bit like the end of the world."

Crowley gave a huff that might have been a laugh in another life. "I know the feeling," he said, giving in to the urge to wrap the fingers of one hand around Zira's where they were shaking slightly in his lap and pressing a gentle kiss to the tips of his fingers. "It'll be all right, angel," he lied.

Zira didn't look comforted. Instead, he stared at Crowley with a wondrous desperation that he recognized from his own face - the look of a man memorizing something precious he thinks he's going to lose.

The look broke Crowley's heart, but he didn't know anything he could say to comfort his partner. He just held his hand as - tick, tick, tick - the End drew nearer.

The next two days were some of the longest Crowley could recall. It seemed almost as if the clock was pausing for breath between each - tick - and every - tick - beat - tick - just to - tick - make sure - tick - that Crowley - tick - was paying - tick - attention. Tick, tick, tick.

Zira's melancholy hadn't dissipated, but it had lifted slightly when he'd found the book Crowley had brought in for him. He almost seemed surprised to see it. Thursday morning found Zira at his desk hunched over the book with a pad of paper, though the paper was usually buried under a few pages when Crowley stopped by with tea or a reminder to eat, so he wasn't sure what was so fascinating about the book.

For himself, Crowley placed a discreet call to the Witchfinder Sergeant, requesting assistance in locating the real Antichrist. After that, he'd focused on realphabetizing the pair's collections of CDs and vinyl records, as well as Zira's personal (well, more personal) collection of rare books. Once that was done, he set to reorganizing the entire bookshop, all the while waiting for any sign that Hell had wised up.

By the time Saturday hit, Crowley was so wound up he could have passed for a grandfather clock himself. Tick, tick, tick.

"My dear," Zira said with exasperation mid-morning when he surfaced for tea and biscuits. "You're wearing a hole in the rug. Why don't you go for a drive or something? Get out of the shop for a bit."

Crowley didn't want to leave Zira, but by this point he was sure the strain and stress of the last eleven years - much less the last three days - would have given him a heart attack for sure if it hadn't been for his occult conditioning. He begrudgingly agreed with Zira's assessment.

"I won't be gone long," he said, pressing a kiss to Zira's forehead. "Just a few hours. I have my mobile if you need to call me for anything. And I mean anything at all."

"Yes, Crowley," Zira said, obviously humoring him.

With a second and third glance back, Crowley left the bookshop.

He was trundling aimlessly down the streets of Soho (watching for pedestrians and stopping at crosswalks and everything), when the radio kicked on in a way it hadn't done for a decade, interrupting Bach's "Under Pressure."

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON, CROWLEY? WHAT EXACTLY HAVE YOU BEEN DOING?

It continued on as expected from there. Crowley had been waiting for this particular moment, after all. Warlock had gotten to take a trip to the Middle East, but all that had come of it was Hell's discovery that the Antichrist Crowley had planted hadn't been the actual Antichrist at all.

STAY WHERE YOU ARE, CROWLEY, the voice trailed off ominously. YOU WILL BE...COLLECTED...

And wasn't he twelve shades of overjoyed that he wasn't at the bookshop right now, literally bringing Hell home with him? His fingers tightened on the wheel to the point where the leather creaked and he had to consciously relax before his arthritis flared up.

They were coming after him. Where could he go that Zira wouldn't be put in jeopardy? That Crowley had a snowball's chance of defending? Where--oh.

It came to him, and Crowley swung a left turn through a yellow light, giving only a cursory glance for pedestrians. He turned the nose of the Bentley towards Mayfair.

Crowley had never bothered to pay rent on his Mayfair flat, because rent was a thing that happened to other people and he hadn't given the flat a second thought since he'd met Zira. Fortunately, the glass jar of holy water was still tucked safely behind the Mona Lisa. Unfortunately for Hastur and Ligur, Crowley was ruthless when it came to protecting Zira.

Now, deed done, he got back in the Bentley and turned her back towards the bookshop. It had been too long since he'd left Zira and with the Apocalypse imminent, he couldn't be too careful.

He was nearing the bookshop and starting to contemplate which sort of take-out would best lure Zira away from his book, when the sky - which was already full of dark, rain-heavy clouds - became even darker with plumes of thick, black smoke. Crowley got a very bad feeling. He dropped his foot heavier on the accelerator and urged the Bentley onward. Surely...no. It couldn't be--

It was.

The bookshop was on fire.

Crowley threw the Bentley in park and scrambled out of her. One of the firemen was trying to ascertain if he owned the building, and Crowley just shouted an affirmation over his shoulder as he burst through the door of Ezra Fell's Rare Books.

"Zira!" he screamed. "Zira! Where are you, angel?" There was no sign of his partner. Crowley rushed through the fire-lit bookshop, taking care to squint at the floor through flickering flames for any spot Zira might have fallen. There was no sign of Zira in the bookshop or in the back rooms. The kitchen was empty, as was the sitting room. The flames were almost too dense to see through and a human who needed to breathe - a human like Zira - would be unconscious from the smoke by now.

He hurried toward the stairs to the upper floor, but a sharp crack signaled the building's imminent collapse. "Zira!" A jet of water flew through one of the open windows, hitting Crowley and knocking him to the floor. One hand landed on something flat and hard and he reflexively grabbed it before hurrying out from under the collapsing building. The bookshop settled into place with a loud crash.

The firemen still surrounded the building, trying to keep the fire from spreading to the nearby buildings. One of them tried to grab Crowley to pull him to safety, but Crowley wrestled free and staggered back towards the shop, trying to see if Zira had been on the top floor. "Zira!" he yelled as loud as he could. "Zira!" He picked his way through the brick and wood, but all he could see was the remains of the life they had built.

"No, no, no, no," he chanted. "No, no. Zira!" His trousers kept catching fire, but Crowley just impatiently put them out. He had to be here somewhere. He had to be here and Crowley had to find him and pull him out and Zira had to be okay, because if he wasn't-- If something happened to Zira because Crowley was a demon-- Zira had to be okay.

"Zira," he called hoarsely, choking on smoke. "Zira!"

There was another ominous crack and the last brick wall that had remained more or less vertical began to topple, the rest of the structure following. Crowley had to backpedal, tripping over loose bricks, to keep from being inconveniently discorporated by falling masonry. With a great final crash the bookshop crumbled, until all that was left of the last five decades of Crowley's life was a pile of smoking rubble.

It started to rain.

The firemen were still rushing about him, but it seemed as if they'd gotten the worst of the fire under control. None of the neighboring buildings had been badly damaged and Crowley felt a rush of anger at the adult bookstore next door, where even the neon OPEN sign was still cheerily lit. But just as quickly as it had appeared, his fury drained away.

His knees gave out and he fell, catching himself on one palm. Crowley stared unseeing at his hands for a moment. They were old, wrinkled, bent with age and disease. They had grown this way steadily, year after year, as a way to keep pace with--

His eyes wandered over each finger, tracing its imperfections and recalling the years of miracles he had needed to layer over his appearance. When his gaze reached his second hand, he stopped.

He'd almost forgotten the object he had picked up from the floor of the bookshop. Crowley turned over and sat gingerly on the wet pavement. The rain dripped off his hair and trickled down his ears, but it didn't touch the book he held in his hands.

He held it carefully in his hands and recognized it as the book that-- The book he had grabbed out of the back of the Bentley. The cover was blank, but it was an old book and the title page gave it all away: The Nife and Accurate Prophefies of Agnes Nutter, Being a Certaine and Prefice Hiftory from the Prefent Day Unto the Endinge of this World, Containing therein Many Diuerse Wonders and precepts for the Wife.

Crowley's chest hurt and his eyes lingered over "Endinge." How had-- Crowley closed his eyes against the lump in his throat and took a shaky breath. How had Zira managed to find this book in the first place? He couldn't have possibly known what it was. The bookshop's collection had held many books of prophecy, but this book, this one, the one that Crowley held in his hands, was the only one that was completely accurate.

Crowley had spent the first six thousands years of his life on Earth completely and utterly alone, isolated from the rest of Hell and separated from mankind by his very nature. Yet somehow, sitting in the cold rain at the end of the world watching as the last curls of smoke issued from the bookshop, he had never felt more alone.

He held the book up to his nose and took a deep breath, hoping for any traces of...there it was. Beneath the smoke and ash was the scent of old paper and long-dry ink. A smell Crowley was more familiar with than his own name. It smelled like home and it smelled like Zira.

Something brushed against his wrist and Crowley looked down to find a note had slipped free of the book's pages. How it hadn't gotten lost in Crowley's frantic searching he didn't know. The handwriting on it looked familiar, but then again all copperplate looked vaguely alike and this script lacked the rough edges that had begun to characterize Zira's writing in recent years. It laid out the events of the last days, including the name of the Antichrist (Adam Young) and the location of Armageddon (the Lower Tadfield Air Base).

Until he'd returned to find the bookshop engulfed in flame, Crowley had still been stuck between warring impulses to hold Zira and watch the world burn or to do his best to halt the Apocalypse, futile as the effort might have been. Now, though...now he just wanted the world to end as quickly as possible. Absently, Crowley noted that the notes on this slip of paper would have been very important information to him a scant hour before, when he was trying to find any scrap of information that might keep Zira out of Hell's reach--

He froze, then, unbidden, his eyes slid back up to trace the rubble. He hadn't found Zira. He hadn't even found Zira's body. In a rush, he scrambled to his feet and ran towards the Bentley. Her door flew open before he'd even reached her and he swung nimbly into the cab. The book was dropped in the seat next to him and the slip was held in his hand as Crowley slammed his foot on the accelerator and headed for Tadfield.

If Zira hadn't been there...if Zira hadn't been in the ruins at all, then there were a finite number of reasons. One, he had gone out on an errand. Crowley knew this one was merely wishful thinking. Zira had been happy as a clam in the shop when he'd left and there was no reason to think he would have gone out. Two, Zira had-- Crowley swallowed roughly. Zira had died in the shop and either Crowley hadn't found him or he'd been incinerated beyond recognition before Crowley had gotten there. Three - and this was the one Crowley hoped for and feared in equal measure - Crowley's patient and caring partner had been found by the forces of Hell and snatched as part of Crowley's promised torment.

If it was the second, Crowley would make sure the Apocalypse ran as expected. There was no point to an Earth if it didn't have Zira in it. If it was the first, the world was expected to survive much longer anyway. If it was the third...well then, Crowley would just have to get his Zira back from Hell, no matter what it took. Luckily, he knew exactly where they were going to be.

The clouds rumbled ominously as Crowley pressed the accelerator flat to the floorboards, headed toward the M25. Tick, tick, tick.

When Crowley was younger, he hadn't cared much for traffic laws. Those were meant for mortals, after all, and he was anything but. After he'd met Zira, he'd become more circumspect. Zira was mortal, with all the soft, easily squished bits that came with the condition.

Now, with Zira's life and the world's fate in the balance, Crowley did one hundred and twenty miles an hour down Oxford Street.

The Lower Tadfield Air Base was quiet when Crowley got there. No one ran out when the Bentley died in front of the gate and when Crowley stumbled out he realized that the reason for it was that the guardhouse wasn't manned. The gate opened easily at his touch.

Crowley kept an eye out, but didn't see any people as he walked into the base. He rounded a building and stopped in his tracks. It looked like he'd missed the main event. Only one of the Horsepersons was still there and as Crowley watched Death vanished in a flash of dark wings. That left a quartet of pre-teens, Sergeant Shadwell himself, and a woman that Crowley vaguely recognized as one of Shadwell's friends.

One of the children was a boy with golden curls who looked to be in charge of things, if Crowley was any judge of body language. He was surveying the adults imperiously and said something Crowley couldn't quite make out. Then, suddenly, instead of there being two adults standing there, there were three, and the third was--

"Zira," Crowley breathed, his feet moving before he could give them conscious direction, propelling him towards his partner. "Zira!" he called louder.

Zira turned at his name and yes it was Zira. Still wrinkled, still with grey-streaked hair, wearing the jacket, vest, and tartan bow tie he'd worn that morning without a spot of soot on him. He was the most gorgeous thing Crowley had ever seen.

"Crowley?" he asked in surprise.

Before he could move, Crowley had reached him and wrapped his arms tightly around Zira in the same motion. "Goodness gracious, angel," Crowley said faintly, holding Zira tightly and breathing in the familiar scent of his hair. "I thought I'd lost you."

"Oh, my dear," Zira said, returning Crowley's hug. "I was so worried about you, too." Then he paused and tried to pull back. After a moment Crowley relented and loosened his grip just enough for them to make eye contact.

Zira was frowning in bewilderment. "But, my dear," he protested. "How on earth did you get here?"

Before Crowley could begin to attempt to explain the mess with the book and the Bentley and the M25, the boy - Adam Young, if Crowley's guess was correct - broke in. "'Ang on," he said. "What are the two of you on about?"

"This is Zira," Crowley explained. He didn't step away far, but he did drop his arms and fold his hands ever-so-carefully around Zira's. Go--Sat--Somebody, he'd never thought he'd have this again. "He own--er, has a bookshop in central London." That bookshop is now a loosely piled stack of bricks, Crowley added silently, but there was no telling whether or not Zira knew that, so he kept mum. "We've been living together for just over fifty years."

Zira leaned into Crowley. "This is--"

But Adam interrupted. "He's also an angel," the boy told Crowley bluntly.

Crowley would have just dismissed his words, but Zira froze next to him, his fingers spasming slightly in Crowley's hold. "Angel?" he asked the man next to him. Well, he meant it as a term of endearment, but as an interrogation it worked just as well.

Zira didn't meet his eyes. "It's nothing."

Crowley didn't let it go. His heart was starting to beat faster and his mouth went dry. "Are you really an angel?"

"Yes," Zira admitted quietly to Crowley's shoulder.

"Angel," Crowley breathed in awe.

Zira raised his chin to look Crowley in the eye. He looked miserable. "It's not as entertaining as it sounds, my dear," he said. "It means that I'm immortal and I'm just going to have to watch you--"

"Me, too," Crowley blurted out.

"What?" Zira looked puzzled.

"I'm immortal too," Crowley told him, stunned by the realization. "Neither of us is going to die."

"What?" Zira asked breathlessly, eyes wide.

Crowley understood exactly how he felt. "I get to keep you," he said with wonder in his voice.

A bolt of lightning struck the pavement, cutting short their conversation and drawing everyone's attention. A moment later, a dark figure rose up from churning earth. That one Crowley recognized. It was Beelzebub.

He quickly pulled his hands free of Zira's and hoped the Prince of Hell hadn't noticed.

What followed was a conversation that Crowley had a slow start wrapping his mind around. It sounded like Heaven was also rooting for the Apocalypse? He shot a sideways glance at Zira. He at least seemed to think they did. It was starting to sink in just how much he and Zira had missed about each other's lives and how much more they could have helped each other. Wednesday, Crowley realized. When they'd gotten back from Warlock's. That must have been when Zira found out about Armageddon. He remembered the way Zira had trembled. I could have helped, he thought.

Adam seemed to be holding his own against the two entities, but just as Crowley was beginning to think it would all be wrapped up soon and he could get back to his angel - angel in truth - the boy hesitated, and the pair began to circle like sharks smelling blood in the water.

And that was when Zira, his beautiful angel, spoke up. After a moment, Crowley realized where he was going with his line of questioning and added comments where he could. It felt good, like one of their late-night debates on dolphins or an obscure point of ancient history that both of them somehow happened to know about. Archaeology Monthly, my foot, Crowley thought giddily. Every so often, Zira would glance at Crowley, excitement and love brimming in his gaze.

At last Crowley and Zira seemed to have introduced enough doubt into the equation for Adam to reassert his position. Beelzebub and the Heavenly representative disappeared in a cloud of mumbled excuses, and the Air Base began to breathe again. Another pair of humans had shown up and a conversation kicked off, but Crowley ignored it all in favor of focusing on his partner.

"That was brilliant," Crowley told him.

Zira blushed. "It really wasn't much of anything."

"That's a lie," Crowley said firmly. "It was amazing. I only wish I'd gotten to see you in action more, angel."

There was so much unbridled affection in Zira's eyes that Crowley was worried for a moment that he'd spontaneously catch fire. One of Zira's hands came up to rest briefly on his cheek before he straightened and cleared his throat.

"Let me introduce myself again, properly this time," Zira said and held out his hand primly in the small space between them. "My name is Aziraphale, a Principality of Heaven, formerly Guardian of the Eastern Gate. I have been stationed on Earth since Eden and I am desperately in love with you." As he spoke, the years fell off of him, leaving him the same man Crowley had run into in a Soho church in 1967.

Crowley shook his hand, then held on, reveling in the last moments he might have to hold it. Once he revealed who he was... He let the last five decades melt away as well. "Crowley, Serpent of Eden and the First Tempter. I was assigned to the temptation of Earth six thousand years ago." He cleared his throat. "I have been in love with you since you saved me from accidentally destroying myself with a jar of holy water."

Zira's - Aziraphale's - eyes grew wide, but he didn't pull away. If anything, he held Crowley's hand more tightly. "Was that-- What were you doing with holy water, Crowley?"

Crowley blinked at the line of questioning - hadn't he just told Aziraphale that he was a demon? - but then realized that Aziraphale wasn't angry at him for existing, Aziraphale was scared for him, scared of the one thing that could have taken Crowley away forever.

A warm, sunshine-y feeling took up residence in Crowley's chest. "It was for protection," he explained. "Below was getting loud and that usually comes with consequences." Aziraphale didn't looked reassured. "If it makes you feel better," Crowley tried, "I don't have it anymore. I used it on Ligur this afternoon."

Aziraphale definitely didn't look reassured now. If anything, he looked alarmed, running his eyes and hands over Crowley, checking for any damage he'd somehow missed.

"I'm fine, angel," Crowley said, trying to sound exasperated through his smile. He caught Aziraphale's hands and brought them to his lips, kissing first one hand, then the other. He marveled at the differences between the hands he held now and the ones he'd been holding just a few minutes before. He rubbed a thumb across the supple skin on the back of Aziraphale's hand. "I'm perfectly fine."

A deep rumbling interrupted Aziraphale's reply. The angel shot Crowley a worried look and he sent one back. That wasn't a good sign.

A burning smell wafted past and Crowley's eyes widened in realization. Aziraphale wound one hand more tightly around Crowley's and let go with the other so he could get a better view of the entire scene.

"It's Him," Crowley said, fear making his voice flat. "It's Adam's Father."

Aziraphale leaned down as far as he could without letting go of Crowley and picked up a sword on the ground that must have been left behind during some of the earlier excitement. It looked a bit familiar.

"Haven't used this in a while," Aziraphale murmured, waving it through the air before whump it caught on fire. Now Crowley recognized it. The Guardian of the Western Gate had had a sword very much like this one.

There wasn't much left for Crowley to grab, but he spotted a Jeep nearby and let go of Aziraphale's hand just long enough to catch hold of the first thing he could find. Tire iron in hand, Crowley returned to his angel and threaded his fingers through Aziraphale's, holding him close.

They didn't say anything, just glanced at each other, but Crowley knew they were on the same page. Adam may have successfully averted the Apocalypse, but that didn't mean the danger had passed.

Crowley had just gotten his eternity back and he was damned if Lucifer was going to take it away from him.

#Resolution19 #Good Omens #Ziraley #A/C #Asexual Relationship #adorable boys being old and adorable #mutual oblivion #this is now officially the longest thing i've ever written #whew

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fyrapartnersearch · 6 years ago

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Seeking Literate and Dedicated Partners!

Hello, you can call me Doe! I'm in my 20s, a student, and a proud cat mom. I write multiple paragraphs/novella style (200-500+ words). I love to write detailed descriptions and delve into a character’s head/emotions as well as surroundings. I compare it to writing a novel together. I understand if the scene doesn’t have alot going on and therefore requires less like rapid fire. I adore having long, thoughtful replies where we truly immerse ourselves in the world. I'm hoping to find a partner whose as enthusiastic and passionate about the plot and writing as I am. When I get invested in a story, it’s 100% dedication. Getting a reply is the highlight of my day. I'm a big fan of romance and using face claims. I’m the type to make pinterest boards, spam you with gifs, headcanons, and send you songs that remind me of our characters and/or ship. I'll get excited if we come up with a great plot idea or if our characters are being cute or going to get into trouble. I live for this kind of stuff honestly. Last but not least I only do MxF and don’t double, but I’m more than happy to write side characters of either gender to help move the story along. I'd prefer female authors writing male characters but male writers are fine too. Desperately Searching For - 21+ partners - For you to have an excellent grasp of grammar, punctuation, spelling, and capitalization. Both in character and out of character. (Literate to advanced writers only, please. I'm not looking for newbies). - Plot before smut. While mature themes will be in my plots, and are even encouraged, there needs to be a good chemistry between our characters. I like to have a good mix of plot and tastefully written smut, along with doses of angst and fluff. - For you to write as an older male (Late 30s-40+). I'm a sucker for the gruff and tough men who secretly have a soft heart. I also love those grumpy, hypermasculine men being intimidated by darling, soft yet commanding, and pretty women. - The more description, the better! I'm looking for someone can write as much as me (2 to 4 paragraphs or more) and really bring the story to life. I lose interest if I'm the only one that's invested/enthusiastic or coming up with plot ideas. Quality writing makes my heart happy, as does world building together. - The use of real life face claims and joining me in the wonderful world of ship/character development isn't a requirement but I'd sure be delighted if we were on the same page in this regard. (I won't use anime faces, only art if you're uncomfortable with real life) - Someone who won't leave without warning or explanation after sending the first post. I'm looking for the long term here, and I have been greatly saddened by how many partners have left me high and dry recently. If you've made it this far, thank you! You won't be disappointed in writing with me. I tend to be online daily and I'd like it if you were too. Please let me know if you're going to be inactive, long days/weeks of silence make me nervous. Below are genres and pairings I love. Feel free to combine two or more and I’m sure we can come up with something great! Genres: - anything mafia related - crimes in remote locations - small towns and supernatural happenings - post apocalyptic/dystopia - supernatural/modern fantasy (werewolves, shapeshifters, a/b/o dynamic and everything that comes with it, monster x hunter) - southern/mid western/gothic - murder mystery (small town or big city) - western inspired/weird west (supernatural and fantasy elements) - modern/dark fairy tale retellings - sci-fi/cyberpunk - little coastal towns or little towns in the mountains - emotionally charged/dark and gritty - superpowers/gifted - unresolved sexual tension/slow burn - mythology (modern / hades x persephone) - redemption - action - fake dating - pacific northwest - suburban gothic Pairings: - age gaps (older man x younger woman) - enemies to lovers - cop x criminal - doctor x patient - friends turned lovers/pining - grumpy x sunshine - the broken man x the woman that becomes his light - fbi agents/cop partners - dark hearted man melting for the innocent woman - reunited old lovers and/or friends - boss x employee - neighbors - firefighter/cop x victim - mentor x mentee - spies - hurt/comfort - height differences - pet names - lady and the tramp esque - creature x human (I'm always up for NSFW things while in their beast form.) - ex-con x anyone - detective x witness - detective x suspect - person in witness protection x anyone - bodyguard x assignment - widow/er falling in love again - outlaw x schoolteacher - biker x doctor - biker x civilian - rancher/trapper/mountain man x city girl - interracial relationships Tropes: the papa wolf (craving), badass baritone, cultured badass, jerk with a heart of gold. ladykiller in love, mountain man, mysterious protector, southern gentleman, tall, dark, and handsome, gentleman criminal Plot Ideas: (these are just suggestions and if you have other ideas I'd like to hear them) 1. age gap + height difference + modern supernatural + werewolf x human + dark hearted man melting for the innocent woman A mentor x mentee pairing where the mentee has been a victim of some sorts and that's why they’re taken under the wing of the mentor. I'm picturing a guy capable of towering over most men and also knocking most men out, but with a soft spot (that takes a bit to uncover) for his mentee. He's a retired hitman, but such profession is nothing you can retire from. He's living out in a small town, keeping to himself and being the local town grump. Something happens to her, something horrible that makes her want to do something even though she is normally the sunshine in everyone's life, and through contacts she is given the address to a man who can teach her. (more to the plot available upon request) 2. age gap + spy x spy + modern supernatural + werewolf x coyote shapeshifter He has already been secretly hired by the US government to investigate this mysterious, new criminal organization. It would be at her first mission and already aware she will be working alongside a more experienced, freelancer agent. We could start with them meeting at the airport and we can go from there. 3. Muse A is a infamous criminal and Muse B is a FBI agent. Muse B has been helping Muse A take out their competition. They could kill each other but would die for each other. (Based on The Blacklist) Fandoms: (Will only do oc x oc/characters inspired by canon pairings) Star Wars, X Files, Haven, The Blacklist, Fringe, Zoo, Stranger Things, Heroes, The Wolf Among Us, The Walking Dead, Mercy Thompson Series, True Blood, Stephen King's Universes, Red Dead Redemption, Marvel (Last but not least, I have a list of kinks if anyone's interested) I use email and discord to write. Contact me at [email protected] or Doe#4017. If you add me using the latter, let me know where you came from. Please be detailed when you message me, let me know why you chose to contact me. Seeing "hey do you wanna rp?" is a guaranteed way to turn me off. Look forward to hearing from you!

#oc rp #multiple paragraph #long term #email #forum #messenger #submission

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roleplaypartneragency · 6 years ago

Text

Seeking Literate, Active, and Dedicated Partners

Hello, you can call me Doe! I’m in my 20s, a student, and a proud cat mom. I write multiple paragraphs/novella style (200-500+ words). I love to write detailed descriptions and delve into a character’s head/emotions as well as surroundings. I compare it to writing a novel together. I understand if the scene doesn’t have alot going on and therefore requires less like rapid fire. I adore having long, thoughtful replies where we truly immerse ourselves in the world. I’m hoping to find a partner whose as enthusiastic and passionate about the plot and writing as I am. When I get invested in a story, it’s 100% dedication. Getting a reply is the highlight of my day. I’m a big fan of romance and using face claims. I’m the type to make pinterest boards, spam you with gifs, headcanons, and send you songs that remind me of our characters and/or ship. I’ll get excited if we come up with a great plot idea or if our characters are being cute or going to get into trouble. I live for this kind of stuff honestly. Last but not least I only do MxF and don’t double, but I’m more than happy to write side characters of either gender to help move the story along. I’d prefer female authors writing male characters but male writers are fine too. Desperately Searching For - 21+ partners - For you to have an excellent grasp of grammar, punctuation, spelling, and capitalization. Both in character and out of character. (Literate to advanced writers only, please. I’m not looking for newbies). - Plot before smut. While mature themes will be in my plots, and are even encouraged, there needs to be a good chemistry between our characters. I like to have a good mix of plot and tastefully written smut, along with doses of angst and fluff. - For you to write as an older male (Late 30s-40+). I’m a sucker for the gruff and tough men who secretly have a soft heart. I also love those grumpy, hypermasculine men being intimidated by darling, soft yet commanding, and pretty women. - The more description, the better! I’m looking for someone can write as much as me (2 to 4 paragraphs or more) and really bring the story to life. I lose interest if I’m the only one that’s invested/enthusiastic or coming up with plot ideas. Quality writing makes my heart happy, as does world building together. - The use of real life face claims and joining me in the wonderful world of ship/character development isn’t a requirement but I’d sure be delighted if we were on the same page in this regard. (I won’t use anime faces, only art if you’re uncomfortable with real life) - Someone who won’t leave without warning or explanation after sending the first post. I’m looking for the long term here, and I have been greatly saddened by how many partners have left me high and dry recently. If you’ve made it this far, thank you! You won’t be disappointed in writing with me. I tend to be online daily and I’d like it if you were too. Please let me know if you’re going to be inactive, long days/weeks of silence make me nervous. Below are genres and pairings I love. Feel free to combine two or more and I’m sure we can come up with something great! Genres: - anything mafia related - crimes in remote locations - small towns and supernatural happenings - post apocalyptic/dystopia - supernatural/modern fantasy (werewolves, shapeshifters, a/b/o dynamic and everything that comes with it, monster x hunter) - southern/mid western/gothic - murder mystery (small town or big city) - western inspired - modern/dark fairy tale retellings - sci-fi/cyberpunk - little coastal towns or little towns in the mountains - emotionally charged/dark and gritty - superpowers/gifted - unresolved sexual tension/slow burn - mythology (modern / hades x persephone) - redemption - action - fake dating - pacific northwest - suburban gothic Pairings: - age gaps (older man x younger woman) - enemies to lovers - cop x criminal - doctor x patient - friends turned lovers/pining - grumpy x sunshine - the broken man x the woman that becomes his light - fbi agents/cop partners - dark hearted man melting for the innocent woman - reunited old lovers and/or friends - boss x employee - neighbors - firefighter/cop x victim - mentor x mentee - spies - hurt/comfort - height differences - pet names - lady and the tramp esque - creature x human (I’m seeking werewolf/werelion humanoids in some cases and am always up for NSFW things while in their beast form) - ex-con x anyone - detective x witness - detective x suspect - person in witness protection x anyone - bodyguard x assignment - widow/er falling in love again Tropes: the papa wolf (craving), badass baritone, cultured badass, jerk with a heart of gold. ladykiller in love, mountain man, mysterious protector, southern gentleman, tall, dark, and handsome, gentleman criminal Plot Ideas: (these are just suggestions and if you have other ideas I’d like to hear them) 1. age gap + height difference + modern supernatural + werewolf x human + dark hearted man melting for the innocent woman A mentor x mentee pairing where the mentee has been a victim of some sorts and that’s why they’re taken under the wing of the mentor. I’m picturing a guy capable of towering over most men and also knocking most men out, but with a soft spot (that takes a bit to uncover) for his mentee. He’s a retired hitman, but such profession is nothing you can retire from. He’s living out in a small town, keeping to himself and being the local town grump. Something happens to her, something horrible that makes her want to do something even though she is normally the sunshine in everyone’s life, and through contacts she is given the address to a man who can teach her. (more to the plot available upon request) 2. age gap + spy x spy + modern supernatural + werewolf x coyote shapeshifter He has already been secretly hired by the US government to investigate this mysterious, new criminal organization. It would be at her first mission and already aware she will be working alongside a more experienced, freelancer agent. We could start with them meeting at the airport and we can go from there. 3. Muse A is a infamous criminal and Muse B is a FBI agent. Muse B has been helping Muse A take out their competition. They could kill each other but would die for each other. (Based on The Blacklist) 4. werewolf x dog shifter + age gap + unresolved sexual tension + cop x criminal A local man is accused of a murder he didn’t commit. (when actually someone or something else did and everyone assumes he was guilty because he was already a criminal before). A deputy believes in his innocence and aids him in his quest, to find the real killer. They fall in love along the way, a bond formed due to them both being outsiders in one way or another. Fandoms: (Will only do oc x oc/characters inspired by canon pairings) Star Wars, X Files, Haven, The Blacklist, Fringe, Zoo, Stranger Things, Heroes, The Wolf Among Us, The Walking Dead, Mercy Thompson Series, True Blood, Stephen King’s Universes, Red Dead Redemption, Marvel (Last but not least, I have a list of kinks if anyone’s interested) I use email and discord to write. Contact me at [email protected] or Doe#4017. If you add me using the latter, let me know where you came from. Look forward to hearing from you!

#fandom:starwars #fandom:thexfiles #fandom:haven #fandom:theblacklist #fandom:fringe #fandom:zoo #fandom:strangerthings #fandom:heroes #fandom:thewolfamongus #fandom:thewalkingdeadtv #fandom:mercythompsonseries #fandom:trueblood #fandom:stevenkingmultiverse #fandom:reddeadredemption #fandom:marvelmcu #platform:email #platform:discord #language:english #submission

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lifeinahole27 · 7 years ago

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CS ff: “You’re the Tune that Stuck” (au)

Summary: A soulmates au where you can have any number of things happen to reveal you have a soulmate. In this one, Emma suddenly hears the songs that her soulmate are either listening to or have stuck in their head.

Rating: M for language just in case.

Word Count: Just under 8.5k

A/N: Just under the wire, here’s one of the fics that I mentioned in my retrospect, miraculously finished just in time. Please excuse any errors, as this is un-beta’d, and please excuse my bastardization of the movements of a symphony to break this down properly. One funny shout out, though: This fic was born and spiraled out of control after an exchange I had with @seastarved longer ago than I can actually remember, so I dedicate the concept to you, my friend. To all of you, Happy Whatever you celebrate, Merry Christmas, and I’ll be back soon with a January Joy and a CSLB to share. -xo

Prelude

Three times. Three times in the last week, she’s randomly gotten “The Song That Never Ends” stuck in her head. Out of nowhere. She doesn’t listen to that song. Who actually listens to that song? She’s not sure she’s ever liked that song, so why would it pop into her head just for fun and stick around for a few hours before escaping again?

The first time is at work, as she types up reports, and she doesn’t even realize she’s humming it until David, her friend and partner, clears his throat in that obnoxious way to let her know she’s doing something to annoy him, which in turn, annoys her. They stare at each other, with Emma glaring harder, until he clears his throat again in the way that says, ‘As you were,’ because he realizes he won’t win the fight.

The second time is at home while Emma is doing laundry. She’s halfway through draping her line-dry items on the rack when it suddenly starts playing, and she tries to change the song to something she actually likes for several minutes, before she decides instead to just imagine television static until the song goes away.

The third time, she doesn’t realize it has even reared its ugly head again until Mary Margaret, David’s lovely wife who is one of her best friends and her son’s elementary school teacher, asks if she is okay. Apparently, grunting out the tune is cause for alarm.

Mary Margaret hums in consideration after Emma explains what’s going on.

“What?”

“David and I didn’t realize we were soulmates until we were engaged, you know. We have these silly little birthmarks on the bottoms of our feet that match up if we press them together.”

“How did you not notice that? You dated for six years before he even proposed!”

“Emma, honey, when our feet were bare, we were hardly concerned with the bottom of our feet,” the sweet woman says with an obvious leer.

“I’m glad Henry isn’t around to hear this filth. From his teacher.” The other woman snickers, and Emma tries to hold back a smile. “You’re gross. I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Emma professes, making a face and moving to Mary Margaret’s side to pick at the food she’s preparing for lunch. “So, what, you think someone out there is listening to this song and that’s why it keeps getting stuck in my head? You think I have a soul mate?”

There’s a nod of agreement, even as Mary Margaret smacks her hand away from raw dough for her famous chocolate chunk cookies. “Could be worse, he or she could be listening to Henry the Eighth.”

“Speaking of, Henry is the only soul mate I need,” Emma finalizes, signaling the end of the discussion.

The aforementioned song gets stuck in her head, all her own doing, and she practically screams it in her mind in retaliation.

And thus, the war begins.

-x-

It turns out that once you figure out you have a soul mate that can hear the songs you’re listening to (or, heaven forbid, the ones that get stuck in your head) the worse the whole business gets. Suddenly, after Open House before the new school year begins, he’s aware of the music filtering in and out of his head like someone keeps turning the dial on the tuner. Whether the person on the other end of Killian’s brain knows it or not, he or she does a marvelous job picking the worst songs at the absolute worst times.

“Henry the Eighth” is bad enough, especially since he can’t stop thinking about one of his students and the crush he has on his unapproachable mother. Then there’s the time the children learn “Kookaburra” on their recorders, which is nearly derailed when Killian almost starts to play “Baby Got Back” halfway through the round-robin.

He will never forget the moment that Beastie Boys pops into his head during the one quiet hour he spends in the classroom, and he resists the urge to jam out to it in front of a full classroom.

He engages in gentle warfare for a day after he’s caught humming “Call Me Maybe” in front of Mary Margaret, who lifts her eyebrows almost to her pixie hairline at the song of choice. She seems to stop and consider him for a long moment before Killian coughs out an apology and scuttles back to his arts and music wing.

“What’s the most obnoxious song you know?” he asks the same fellow teacher a few days later. He’d been up most of the night with Backstreet Boys songs playing, and it’s time for retaliation. His hands have spent a significant amount of time in his hair during the last few hours, so he knows he looks disheveled and tired, and probably sounds crazy on top of it.

“Probably something like ‘The Song that Never Ends’ or something along those lines,” Mary Margaret responds, watching him carefully for something while she sips at her tea.

“Oh bloody hell, no. Not that one. That was a recent lesson on the recorder and once the kids started, they wouldn’t stop They kept derailing lessons for over a week. Little monsters, I tell you.”

If anything, the woman across the table looks like she’s trying not to laugh at him. “You could try something soothing instead of going for annoying, instead? Just a thought.”

Allegro

One day she wants to kill her soul mate, and the next she almost wants to find who they are when they pick songs like they did last Thursday. She viewed that hour of instrumental music as a peace offering during her overnight patrol, so she’s tried to ease up on how annoying she goes with the songs lately.

She toys with the idea of how to figure out who this person is, tries to come up with the easiest way to figure out whether it’s a he or a she, if they’re local, if they always have such shitty taste in music…

She’s technically on lunch when she starts this new game of theirs, but she stays glued to her computer in order to find the perfect song while David is more than likely making eyes at his wife. After a couple initial search phrases, she finds the one that might get the point across quickly. Her earphones go in, cautious as ever so that David doesn’t figure out what she’s doing if he comes back. While she didn’t tell Mary Margaret not to tell her husband about her soul mate, she’s sure it wouldn’t have mattered; her friend is classically bad at keeping any kind of secret.

Checking to make sure she’s still alone one more time, she hits play on the video she’s pulled up on YouTube, assured that she is the only one listening to “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” in this room, while someone else, somewhere else is hearing it, too.

She goes back to her paperwork, losing all interest in the pb&j she slapped together this morning in interest of time, and instead keeping herself busy to see if she gets a response when the song ends.

When the tune ends, she clicks out of the video and waits, and surprisingly is not disappointed. He’s apparently caught onto the game, listening to “A Boy Named Sue” wherever he is.

The song plays all the way through, and she has a smile on her face when David walks back in. He asks her a question, motioning for her to take out the earbuds she forgot to take out when she was done with her own song. “Listening to some good tunes on your break?”

“Ah, yeah,” she responds. She clicks out of the various windows open and stashes her headphones, giving a sheepish smile in the process.

“As long as it helps get through that mountain of paperwork you always leave behind, I’m not going to complain. Just don’t play Backstreet Boys for at least another month.” He grins at her, returning to his own desk as Emma huddles behind her monitor.

So, her soulmate knows she’s a woman. And she knows her soulmate is a man. Emma can’t figure out what else to share with him, though, so she aims for some of her favorite tunes for a little bit.

They start to pass songs back and forth when they have time, with the one that’s free picking up the slack if the other is unable to return the favor. Whoever is on the other end of her brain clearly doesn’t work on Saturdays and Sundays if his frequency of music increases where hers cuts back as she works through the weekend.

-x-

In the middle of September, Mary Margaret invites Killian to one of the high school’s football games. It turns out her husband is one of the assistant coaches, so she spends a great deal of time in the stands during the football season.

“Normally, my best friend comes with me, but she’s not back in town yet,” his fellow teacher explains.

“I’m happy to accompany you any time,” Killian says, smiling at her comfortingly and following up into the bleachers.

Despite living in the states for a few years, and living in Storybrooke for slightly less time than that, this is the first time he’s gotten to enjoy the customary American tradition of Friday night football. The Storybrooke marching band might not be big, but they are mighty, and he finds himself humming along with the fight song before the game even begins.

By the second half of the game, he’s cheering just as loud as the rest of the crowd, getting swept up in the simple emotion of victory at the end of the game.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to my husband,” Mary Margaret declares as the band exits their spot in the modest stadium, the crowds dispersing into the chilly autumn night as the team leaves the field for the locker room.

Introductions move on to coffee at Granny’s when the need to chase away the cold that’s seeped into their fingers and toes becomes a necessity. While Killian had seen the sheriff a number of times, it’s his first time interacting with him, and he finds he rather likes the man. Not normally one to partake in regular frivolity, Killian decides to pencil in the next game as well. He doesn’t have much of a social life beyond the school functions he helps out at, so attending some football games might be a mark in the positive interactions column that is currently desperately lacking.

Halfway through his second cup of coffee with the Nolans, the object of his silly affections bursts through the door, a flurry of blonde hair and red leather.

“Mary Margaret! I have new information!” The words are out of her mouth right before she notices him sitting there, and her head tilts to the side in a way he can only classify as adorable as she sizes him up. “Hello, Mr. Jones.”

“Please, call me Killian,” he says, extending his hand as she settles in the booth across from him. Her gloves are also leather, and her handshake is firm and decisive.

“What’s the new information?” Mary Margaret asks as soon as she can command her friend’s attention again.

“Oh, nothing, never mind.” Emma waves her hand in the air before giving the other woman a significant look. Later, she seems to say without words, and Killian fights the smile that wants to break through at witnessing the signature girl-talk. “So, who won the game?”

As they continue to chat about the team and such, Killian gets to observe Emma as he’s never seen her. Usually, she’s incredibly reserved, her responses clipped and efficient as she comes in for conferences. Once, at the open house at the start of the year, he managed to smile at her without tripping over his feet, which he constituted as a job well done. This intimate setting allows him to see her as a woman, instead of just the parent of one of his students.

Despite the coffee, he can feel his early morning catching up to him, even as Emma starts revving up. Killian marvels at the energy of the woman, especially when he notes that she’s only had hot chocolate since she sat down. She looks a little disappointed as he announces he’s turning in for the night, which Killian takes as his own personal victory for the evening.

“Thank you again for a lovely evening, Mary Margaret, David. And lovely to see you again,” he trails off awkwardly, suddenly realizing that he doesn’t know how to address her. Does he call her by her surname? Will using her first name seem too personal? Heaven forbid he just call her Henry’s mother, which is how he’s used to referring to her in his mind.

“Just Emma,” she says, saving him from a tailspin of confusion and worry. She smiles, and when she fixes that look on him, he’s lost to the green of her eyes and the dimple in her chin, to the lines that bracket her mouth.

“Well, hopefully we’ll get a chance to do this again soon, just Emma,” he says, his smile bordering on suave as he takes her hand and kisses the back of it, her skin just as smooth as the leather gloves she removed shortly after sitting down.

The overt display of flirtation is normally against his nature, and he clears his throat nervously as he drops her hand and straightens, shuffling from the bench a moment later.

Emma is still watching him when he turns back at the door, a similarly awestruck look on her face that is only broken when Mary Margaret asks her a question. With a smile stuck on his face, he exits the diner and heads for home, only remembering he has a soulmate out there and feeling awful about forgetting when the solemn version of “I Want to Hold Your Hand” pops into his head as he walks through his own front door.

-x-

“David, it’s girl-talk time,” Mary Margaret informs her husband not a moment after Killian walks out the door of Granny’s diner.

“Why can’t I stay?”

“Do you really want to hear about my love life?” Emma asks, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Okay then. I’ll see you at home,” David says, leaning across the table at the same time his wife does in order to give her a quick peck on the cheek. Emma would be unhappy with the display of affection if it were anyone else, but she loves these two far too much to take issue with their gooey mannerisms.

When David is gone and they’ve refreshed their drinks, Emma switches to the other side of the table in order to sprawl out a little.

“He lives in Storybrooke,” she tells her friend excitedly.

“Who? But more importantly, what was that between you and Killian tonight?”

“What was what? I didn’t do anything.”

“Emma.”

“Don’t Emma me, I didn’t do anything! He’s just… really pretty, okay? I’m allowed to flirt with people even though I have a soulmate out there.”

“Out there in Storybrooke, no less,” her friend comments.

“Oof, yeah. I wonder if I’ve ever met him before.”

“I’d bet on it,” Mary Margaret says, but there’s something in her voice that causes her to continue after the short declaration. “I mean, it’s a pretty small town.”

Emma stares at the other woman for a second, her eyes narrowed as she considers the first half of the sentence. In the end, she just hums her agreement as she sips her hot chocolate.

“Anyway, how do you know he lives in Storybrooke?”

“He was listening to the fight song tonight. He must’ve been at the game. I’m almost sad I missed it now.”

“Hey! Why only almost? Didn’t you miss hanging out with me tonight?”

“Mary Margaret, if I could get you without the Friday night testosterone, I would be in heaven. You’re lucky they have those elephant ears or else I’d likely never show up.”

“You’re no fun,” is Mary Margaret’s astute observation.

They spend the rest of their beverages speculating who might be her soul mate, but all Emma can think about is Killian, and the way he kissed her hand – how soft his lips were, his fingers callused from years of playing musical instruments. Still, there was something special about that contact, and she doesn’t even mean to think of the Beatles song that floats through her mind, confused and slightly annoyed that she would ever want to hold anyone’s hand.

-x-

It’s a strange sensation, to have someone else’s music buzzing around his head. As October comes and goes, he hears the faint strains of “Happy Birthday” come through in his sleep one night, mentally joining along so she knows he’s wishing it to her as well. November is over in the blink of an eye, and he’s expecting another quiet Thanksgiving at his home, working on music or lesson plans, as it’s not his holiday, anyway.

Mary Margaret seems to realize that he’s on his own right as the date is approaching, so she invites him to their place. “We have a small rag-tag group that comes together for the day,” she tells him. “It’s just David and I, a couple friends you’ll meet, and Emma and Henry.”

He makes sure to give a customary “I’ll think about it” response and waits until he runs into her in the teacher’s lounge again during lunch. “As long as it’s not an imposition,” he says, making that his one condition. “And you’ll let me prepare a dish.”

“Cheesy potatoes. I don’t have the room in my oven this year, and they’re Emma’s favorites,” she tells him, giving him a brilliant smile and hurrying off to her classroom.

Snow is falling when he arrives at the Nolan’s charming home, looking bright and warm against the muted hues of oncoming winter, but the chimney is sending up smoke and the front door is open and fogged, and it all looks more and more inviting the longer he stands out in the driveway of the farmhouse. It’s all too picturesque, and Killian wonders how he landed in such a cozy position, invited to the family dinner of a family who isn’t his. His casserole dish won’t last forever in its carry-case, not without cooling anyway, so he finally walks up the steps of the porch, appreciating the soft sounds of the worn wood beneath his boots.

He knocks twice on the storm door, but there’s no response amongst the clamor of silverware hitting the floor, a loud curse, and a sharp laugh which follows closely behind. Something echoes in his head, and he wishes he could rewind the noise to see what it was, but it’s gone as quickly as it sounds. Instead of waiting to be invited in, he slips through the door, knocking his boots on the doorframe and calling out as he does.

Mary Margaret is in the entryway in a flash, apologizing for the lackluster greeting as she explains that Emma dropped the entire box that held the fine utensils they use for fancy meals. “She’s currently up to her elbows in soapy water washing them all, and Ruby isn’t helping by teasing her about it.” She takes the portable carrier from his hands, zipping away to the dining room for a moment before she’s back in front of him. “Let me take your coat. There’s a tray for shoes under the hooks there, and if you’re weird about walking around in socks like Emma is, there are slippers in that basket right there.”

His coat practically vanishes from his shoulders as the whirlwind pixie bustles around him pointing and explaining and hanging before she’s all but sprinting back to the kitchen. She calls over her shoulders for him to follow, that they’re already working through a bottle of wine but she’s on her fifth cup of coffee, and he’s welcome to either option.

Truthfully, he’s not given a choice, as a glass of wine is thrust into his hand as soon as he enters the kitchen, put there by a leggy brunette with the tips of her hair dyed red and her lips painted to match. “You must be the fresh meat.”

“Ruby,” comes the stern name, and Killian glances at Emma. She’s standing at the sink, her sweater tied around her waist and yellow rubber gloves on her hands. Her hair is tied back but falling in her eyes as she turns to narrow her eyes at the other woman. “Hi Killian, ignore her. You’re not up for slaughter. It’s just been a few years since anyone new came to dinner and that was long enough for her to forget her manners.”

“All’s well, love. I’m much tougher than I look. Is there anything I can help with?”

“Nope,” Mary Margaret says as she appears out of nowhere, her exuberant personality shining in the overheated kitchen. “David and Henry are in the den with some friends. Why don’t you go join them and I’ll call you if I need anything?”

He nods, giving a slightly suspicious look to Ruby who is still sizing him up. He catches Emma’s eyes when she glances over her shoulder and winks at her. Well, he tries to wink. It’s more a weird, delayed blink where one eye shuts more and faster than the other, but her lips turn up and it almost looks like she’s blushing when she turns back to her task.

While he exits the kitchen to join the others in the direction that Mary Margaret indicated, he slows his pace when he’s on the other side of the swinging door, just managing to hear a snappy “Ruby, don’t start. And don’t touch,” from Emma before he continues to his destination. He smiles to himself, continuing on to meet the others.

There’s a suspicious thing that happens every time Killian is near Emma: he forgets about the songs in his head, he forgets that there’s a soul mate out there for him, and he forgets most of his other sensibilities. Instead, he’s enchanted by Emma in every way. Her laugh is her own form of music, and in a dining room full of her friends and son, it’s one she sings every few minutes.

He’s already interacted with Henry plenty. The young lad is talented beyond his second-grade years, and he’s happily picked up every instrument in Killian’s music classes. More than that, he’s always marveled at how Henry treats him as if he were an equal. And he writes songs – lyrics and poems, pages full of his scrawly handwriting, notes hastily written down to catch them as if they were running out of his head – and he’s brought them to Killian to ask for his help. The boy is brilliant and funny and Killian now knows that he gets much of that from his mother.

He and Emma find themselves on a covered couch in the Nolan’s three-season room, each with a steaming mug in their hands as Emma sips from her standard hot chocolate and Killian drinks coffee, and he tells her all about his adventures with her son. Said son is in the den, curled up on the loveseat in a post-turkey food coma. Roland is draped over the arm of the same chair, his toddler body too exhausted from the sheer amount of food he consumed.

The rest of the adults are in various places around the house, telling stories or cleaning up, but he’s lucked out because it’s just Emma by his side, their conversation quiet and her thigh warm where it presses against his. Beyond the vinyl covered windows, the wind is gusting, but Killian feels more comfortable out here than he did in the house, as overheated as it was from the oven being on all day.

“The cheesy potatoes were really good, by the way,” Emma says between topics. “They’re my favorite.”

“Mary Margaret said as much. I’m glad they pass the test, Swan.” He wonders if there will ever be occasion for him to make them again, if this is not the last of the cluster-family meals he’ll get to enjoy, but that feels like he’s getting ahead of himself.

There’s another comfortable lull in conversation before Emma speaks again. “You’re really great with Henry, you know.”

“He’s an exceptional young man, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. He’s quite the writer, as well.”

She chuckles at that, shaking her head knowingly. “He has been since he started talking. He told his own bedtime stories. Started making up songs before he knew what some words even meant. I don’t know where I went right with him, but clearly I’ve done some good.”

“I’d say you’ve done a lot of good, love. We aren’t supposed to claim favorites, but he’s mine. Without a doubt.”

“You’re his favorite teacher, but don’t tell Mary Margaret that. She’d be heart broken,” she whispers conspiratorially.

Their conversation turns to the upcoming holidays, and the Celebration of the Season pageant they’ll have before they break for Christmas and New Year.

“Henry will be playing a solo. I don’t know if he’s told you that, but the other kids wouldn’t even audition because they heard him play.”

“He doesn’t let me listen while he practices. He wants me to be surprised,” she informs him, her smile going affectionate around the edges. “Listen,” she starts.

“Swan,” he says at the same time, and they stare at each other for a moment in the dim lighting from the windows above their heads.

She leans in first, her lips catching his in a soft kiss. He thinks he hears the soft strains of Etta James in his head, but he’s too focused on the way her hand is slipping around to the back of his neck, her fingers sliding into the hair that rests just above the collar of his sweater, to really be sure. His thoughts fly far away when she breaks away to set down her mug, and he does the same just before both of her hands are framing his face and she’s kissing him again, harder this time, more tongue involved, and he’s not sure he’s ever tasted anything as sweet as her kiss, nor is he sure he’ll ever replace it in his life.

One minute she’s almost climbing into his lap, and the next she’s pulled away, her forehead pressed against his for the length of a heartbeat or twenty.

“That was…”

“I gotta go. I have to get Henry home. Um, have a good night, Killian.”

She snatches her mug from the wicker table as she goes, and then she’s back in the house.

It’s partly because he’s stunned, and partly because he recognizes her need to run that leaves him sitting there until he hears Henry’s voice. Then, he slowly wanders in, lifting his hand instead of saying goodbye as her eyes dart to meet his. Henry ambles over, rubbing his eyes and giving Killian a sleepy hug around the waist.

“See you Monday,” he says, his eyes barely open as he looks at Killian. He gives the boy a small smile, placing his hands over his shoulders to return the hug. He chances a glance at Emma, whose furrowed brow and torn expression says everything he needs to know.

“Go on, lad. Your mother is waiting. I’ll see you in class.”

He watches as Henry shuffles off, grabbing Emma’s hand as soon as he’s close enough. With her son’s hand tucked in her right hand, and a bag of leftovers in the left, they head out into the cold November evening and Killian is left standing in the foyer, wondering just what happened.

Adagio

She’s an idiot. More than that, she’s a fucking idiot. No regular idiocy here. This is next-level idiot shit, Emma Swan.

For at least the tenth time today, Emma smacks her forehead onto the laminate surface of her desk.

“Are you okay?” And for at least the tenth time today, David looks like she’s going to explode into a million pieces if he looks at her the wrong way.

“I’m fine,” she groans out. “Just tired. I couldn’t sleep last night.”

“Too much sweet potato pie? Because that was my problem.”

“David, I didn’t get any sweet potato pie because you ate it all before Mary Margaret could offer it to anyone else.”

“I wasn’t that bad,” is his firm retort. “But seriously. Is everything okay? I’ve never seen you hit your head this much after a holiday.”

“Yeah, I’ve just… I’ve got a lot on my mind. But it’ll be okay.”

When she seems unwilling to talk anymore, David finally returns to his own work, allowing the quiet of Friday rest between them. Normally, in other parts of the country, everyone is out in shopping-mode. Thankfully, Storybrooke is not a big town. They don’t see the same crowds or hype that exists in other cities. So, instead of dealing with endless calls about fights, riots, and misdemeanors, they’re sitting around the station while the rest of their meager police force sleeps in.

She wasn’t lying about not sleeping. All night, she laid in bed staring at the ceiling waiting for some answer to fall from the plaster above her head. Either that or she hoped the actual plaster would fall and knock her memories loose so she would never have to remember what it’s like to kiss Killian Jones, to feel how soft his hair is, to see that confused and slightly heartbroken expression on his face as she ushered Henry out the door as fast as she could.

It's what she does: Emma gets scared, Emma runs. As sure as the clock moves forward or the trees bloom in spring, this is her pattern. Worse than just knowing her biggest flaw, there’s another downside to her rash decision to kiss the hell out of Killian last night. She has a soul mate, and said guy has been listening to sad music for at least an hour, the soulful jazz solos echoing around her brain with no escape.

There’s always the white noise trick; she can always just imagine TV fuzz again, or the weather alert sound, anything that might work to eliminate the notes that have invaded her mind. Anything has to be better than feeling whatever her soul mate is feeling for whatever reason. Why is he so down in the dumps? She thought things were going well? Can he tell that she kissed someone else? That she has (and here she swallows audibly, as if facing down the firing squad of her own mind) feelings for someone else?

No, she could drown him out, but this is her penance for kissing Killian. This is her punishment for hurting two men in one shot.

She does her best to avoid Killian over the next few weeks, but it’s hard when she’s walking through the doors of the elementary school and Killian is there, handing her a program with a subdued smile. He opens his mouth to say something, but another mother all but pushes her out of the way.

“You’ve done such a great thing here, Mr. Jones. It must be so tiring making all the arrangements for this event on your own, and coming up with educational ways to represent all the winter holidays.”

From a few feet away, Emma fiddles with her purse, trying to look back over her shoulder to see what Killian’s face looks like, but he’s mostly turned away from her at this point and she’s mad at herself for caring. The woman that bumped her keeps rambling on, and she has a hand on Killian’s bicep, squeezing it like she’s sizing it up or claiming him for herself, and it dawns on Emma that she has no right to be protective or jealous or have any feelings one way or the other about Killian. They kissed, she had an opportunity, and she ran from it like he set her on fire. Which, to be fair, he had… metaphorically, of course.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to come to our place for the holidays, since I know your family is still over in England?”

They are? What family does Killian have? Jesus, she made out with him and she knows nothing about him and she wants to feel the right to be upset that he might accept an offer to spend his holidays with another – she turns to subtly check out the hand that’s now caressing his bicep – single mother and her child? It might really be time to focus on her soul mate and set aside any other thoughts of Killian.

“Well,” Killian starts, and Emma moves. She marches straight out of earshot and into the auditorium, working her way to her seat quickly. There’s an adorable little section for parents, and Emma smiles as she finds her spot, sandwiched between Mary Margaret and the new art teacher, Ashley. She’ll have to thank Mary Margaret later for the attention to detail, putting her next to other teachers instead of the other parents of the PTA that glare at her when she can’t be there on time because one of their punk kids spray-painted the windows of Mr. Gold’s pawn shop again.

Mary Margaret doesn’t get to slide into her own seat until just before the lights dim out and the curtain goes up, so Emma makes a mental note to mention it later. Then, she’s lost in the world of holidays, of different upbringings and traditions, and lost in the ideals of kids who are still too young to be bitter, or worried, or exclusionary for the sake of making themselves feel better.

And then comes Henry’s solo, which fills Emma with more love for her child, which she didn’t even think was possible, but there it is. His little fingers work the strings of a ukulele like he’s been playing his whole life, instead of for the last three months, and his young voice floats through the auditorium, strong and sure. The lights illuminate the rest of the stage, where the other kids wait to join in, and as their voices all join together she has to fight herself to not cry. It’s the most innocent rendition of “Auld Lang Syne” she’s ever heard, and she’s captivated watching them sing a song that she would be hard-pressed to sing, even if she were sober on New Year’s.

It’s halfway through the song when Emma realizes that she’s hearing it, but she’s also hearing it echoed in her mind. He’s here. Her soul mate is at this very event, somewhere in this auditorium. But he’s closer, which doesn’t even seem possible when Emma is just about on top of the stage. She’s tempted to stand up and start wandering the rows to find him, but it would probably be rude to start asking each man in the front three rows if they’re her soulmate. So she has to wait, instead refocusing her attentions to the kids on the stage, joining in the standing ovation that the small auditorium gives to the final performance of the night.

The lights go up after the curtain call, and parents and families start wandering towards the exits to wait for their children and mingle with friends. Mary Margaret disappears to go corral people towards punch and cookies that they’ve provided, and to hawk the DVD they’ll be making available to purchase. Emma, meanwhile, lingers around her seat, checking for any songs in her head. She keeps “Auld Lang Syne” in her mind, a soft memory of the music she just heard, hoping to find someone with the same nostalgia in their expression.

None of the other men in the auditorium seem to notice her, though. They all seem to be taken, holding hands with other men and women and talking about how well their children performed. Throwing in the towel, she heads backstage to see if she can catch Henry before he enters the swarm out in the lobby, so maybe they can sneak out the back and head home, instead.

She finds him back there, all right, but he’s not alone. Killian helps him pack away his ukulele, apparently on loan from the man himself, and Emma lurks around the doorframe to eavesdrop.

“That was even better than in rehearsals,” Killian comments as he hands Henry the carry case for the instrument. “I’m incredibly proud of you, lad.”

“Thanks, Mr. Jones. Are you gonna be at the Nolan Christmas party?”

“Well, I’m going to try, but even if I can’t make it, we still have lessons starting up right after the new year begins to look forward to, aye?”

“Yeah, I guess. You make the parties more fun, and Mom really seemed to like it when you were there for Thanksgiving.”

Emma’s face goes red, thinking again of just how much she enjoyed Killian being at Thanksgiving dinner. And not just because of the kiss, even though that was definitely a highlight. She’s so lost in the memories of the way he kissed her back that she misses whatever Killian says in response, and she’s scrambling away from the doorway just in time to make it look like she’s just arriving as their voices get closer to the door. She no sooner feigns a brisk pace towards the door, making sure her boots thwack the tiles a little for emphasis, before they exit the staging area.

“Henry! There you are!” She beams at her son, bundling him close without jostling the instrument strapped over his shoulder. Henry smiles up at her, accepting the brief fawning from Emma as she ruffles his hair, taps his nose with her index finger, and frames his face with her hands. “I am so proud of you, kid. You did great up there.”

“Thanks, Mom. Goodnight, Mr. Jones,” Henry says, turning to wave at his teacher, and it takes Emma that long to realize she was pretending a little too well like he wasn’t there. Killian, however, is just leaning against the door frame, observing the two of them interact. There’s a smile on his face, one that’s soft and dreamy as he looks at the easy affection between mother and son, and then one with a slight edge of mischief when his eyes meet hers.

He only holds her gaze for a second, looking back to Henry. “Goodnight, lad. Good job.”

Henry smiles at the praise, thanking his teacher one last time before pleading with Emma to go find his friends really quick. It’s only after she’s sent him on his way that she realizes she’s cornered herself alone with Killian once more.

“That was a great concert, Killian. I should probably…”

“Swan, would you go on a date with me sometime?”

“I don’t – I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“And why not, just so I know? If you’ve got a valid reason for turning me down, then I’ll be on my way and never ask again.”

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. So, she just closes it once more. A minute passes. Maybe two. Maybe it just feels like that amount of time because she’s pretty sure they’re both holding their breath.

The jovial look he’d had on his face when Emma first walked up disappears as they stand there in the suffocating silence at the stage entrance. He reaches up to scratch behind his ear as the last of the smile fades. Finally, he looks away from her, and seems to focus on anything but her. “I’ll be on my way, then. Having no answer instead of an honest one hurts just as much, it seems.”

If she’s lying to herself, she’ll say she tries to stop him. But he turns to head backstage, and she makes no attempt to call him back or follow him. She just turns, and walks on autopilot until she finds Henry. She thinks she interacts with a couple people, but mostly she just slowly angles them out the doors to her old Bug, with no further goal in mind than getting them home.

“I fucked up,” she says out loud as she lies awake in bed that night. It’s only 10:30pm, so she reaches for her phone and types the same three words to Mary Margaret.

“We’ll fix it in the morning,” is her friend’s immediate response, like she knows exactly what Emma is going through, like she’s in on what Emma has done.

(She should’ve known better; Mary Margaret already knows that she’s fallen for Killian, and has a list of ideas ready when she walks through the door the following morning.)

Sonata

“So, as I was saying,” Mary Margaret continues once a gaggle of school children run past them on the way to Winter Break Freedom. “I didn’t realize that Emma’s name got left out of our gift exchange. And since you’re not going home for the holidays, I was wondering if you would buy her gift.”

“I don’t know if that’s a wise choice,” Killian admits, standing still and looking forward as the busses file out of the parking lot. He watches as his breath clouds in front of him, tries not to think of at least three beautiful things he could easily buy for the beautiful woman. He couldn’t help that every time he went shopping that he found things that suited her. For the record, none of them are under the recommended $25 spending limit.

“Killian, I promise. She’s the easiest one to shop for. If you just get her some kind of gourmet hot chocolate, she won’t care who gave it to her, she’ll just be eternally grateful.”

He bites back a couple curses, aware of the sparse amount of children still running out to be picked up by their parents. He does grumble a good time or two under his breath before finally turning to look at Mary Margaret.

A sigh, and then he finally responds. “As you wish,” he tells her.

“No, as she wishes.”

This feels like a terrible idea.

It’s halfway through the Christmas party that he realizes he’s yet to see Emma at all, which doesn’t bode well. Henry is wandering from group to group, a smile on his face and candy canes in his hand to pass out to guests. The young Roland is toddling after him, a dimpled smile on his face everytime he looks up at another adult, who in turn hands him a candy cane simply for being adorable. It’s after their second circuit of the room that Killian realizes there might only be four candy canes in the whole house.

His casserole dish with the cheesy potatoes is mixed with the other dishes brought by guests, but Killian avoids them as he snags another roll from the basket, tucking it into his napkin before he refills his rum and finds a corner quiet enough for his thoughts.

That is how he ends up on the same side porch where Emma kissed him, tearing apart the dinner roll and sipping his rum in between bites. The thoughts all muddle in his head, leaving him somber and wistful all at the same time, and all he can focus on is the soft notes of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” that reach this far beyond the walls of the house. With the bread gone, he rests his head back against the siding on the house and contemplates what the year has given him.

Really, it’s not even the year that’s brought him much, it’s been the last few months. It brought him Henry in his classroom again, and Emma into his life, no matter how much that pricks at his heart right now. He was pulled into this family that adopted him as if he was any brother or sister or whatever he might be called, which is touching, especially with is own brother so far away.

Something clatters back inside, and Killian is jolted out of his thoughts to a startling revelation. The music is not loud enough to be heard all the way out here. Which means…

Which means that his bloody soulmate is at this party. He downs the last sip of his rum and carefully maneuvers himself back inside, skirting discussions and party jokes, clasping Mary Margaret’s elbow briefly with a smile as they pass each other. There’s something that looks like hope in his fellow instructor’s eyes, and she inclines her chin to point him down the hallway towards the stairs that lead upstairs.

He nods once, giving her a smile of reassurance as he moves off in the direction she sends him in. It’s just a matter of making his way up the carpeted steps, his feet muffled by the fibers underneath. He concentrates a little harder on the song in his head, listening for the music to get louder both physically and mentally before stopping in front of a plain door at the end of the hall. He tests the doorknob, feeling relief when it turns, and swings open the door.

The study is small, with a desk and chair, a computer playing Christmas tunes at a level just loud enough to be heard from the hallway but still not enough to drown out the party below. The decor is pretty simple otherwise, including an armchair in the corner, where he’s surprised to find Emma, her face buried in her hands but otherwise not seeming in distress.

What would Emma be doing…?

Oh. Oh! His eyes go wide at the notion, and Killian takes a chance to test his theory while there’s still time to back out of the room without her seeing him. He thinks the song as calmly as he can, keeping up with the words even when she gasps and lifts her head, blinking as she looks at him.

“Oh, thank goodness, it is you.”

She sighs in relief and moves to stand, and he’s still trying so hard to catch up on everything that’s just been revealed that he’s momentarily and happily stunned when she briskly walks across the room and kisses him like there’s no tomorrow. Thankfully, his mind kicks over to autopilot while he focuses instead on kissing her back. The rest can be figured and sorted later; this is a more important task at the moment.

The fabric of Emma’s dress is warm beneath his hands, and he wants to take a moment to appreciate the sight before him, but when he pulls back to do just that, she’s right there again drawing him back in. She’s humming the tune of the song playing on the computer as she carefully kisses along his cheek, and he closes his eyes to soak it all in as he hears it in his mind and echoed all around him.

After a period of time just short of indecent, they finally pull apart, resting their foreheads together while they both smile in the afterglow of a really perfect kiss. He shakes his head in wonder, and Emma’s smile widens before she laughs. It’s a sound he recognizes now, a music of her own bouncing from his mind to hers and echoing back to him, and he marvels again at how blind they must’ve been for all these months.

“How did you figure it out, Swan?”

“The only person that could’ve been closer to the holiday show’s music would’ve been the person behind stage. Mary Margaret helped me come to that conclusion. I think she’s suspected since the first time she heard me whine about the infamous music lesson that shall not be named,” she says, tilting her head to the side with a touch of a wry expression that brings to mind the beginning of all of this.

“Ah yes, of course. Also labeled as my least favorite week in September.”

“With a little bit of thought, it was easy from there. The fight song after you went to your first football game, the way I wouldn’t hear the music if I was spending time with you,” she recounts, and pauses as she traces her thumbs over his cheekbones. “There was the sad jazz music after I kissed you and ran. I was convinced my soulmate somehow knew I’d kissed another man that I was crushing on and he could tell.”

“How silly it all seems now,” he remarks, taking the time to map her face with his eyes, to move one of his hands up to stroke through her hair as they consider all that this revelation brings. He skips back a step into the conversation, the smirk unrestrained and his eyebrow jumping up as he questions here. “Already had a bit of a crush on me then, aye?”

“Nope. Maybe I changed my mind.” She says it while pinching his side, and he chuckles as he gathers her close again. “What do you say, Swan, would you like to be my date for the evening?”

“Depends on what you got me for secret Santa,” she quips, pushing up a little onto her toes to kiss him again, quick and solid and just about the most affectionate thing he’s ever felt.

“It’s not much of a secret if you already know it’s from me.”

“Yeah, well, Mary Margaret also didn’t leave my name out on accident, if you know what I mean.” She gives him a wink, a true and proper one that makes his a pale joke in comparison. She tugs on his hand, leading him out of the room to join the party, where no one looks remotely surprised to see their hands linked together at any opportunity they can take.

At the end of the night, Killian has the pleasure of driving Emma and Henry home. She sneaks him one last, goodnight kiss before she shuts the door and trails after Henry. About the same time he’s pulling back up his driveway, he can hear the happy little notes of “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” filtering into his mind. He’s already excited that he’ll have a date for that evening, and a good idea of who he’ll be kissing at midnight.

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cs ff au #cs christmas fic #cs soulmates au #sarah writes ff #<3<3

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mrsspidermanmaryjanewatsonparker · 7 years ago

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I read this passage a few weeks ago that’s stuck with me.

But that feeling of romantic love, though very powerful and as real as any feeling, is by its very nature ephemeral; it usually lasts no longer than two years, and almost never longer than seven. Even couples who swear that they’re still “in love” after 20 years or whatever aren’t being entirely honest; what happens in the best, healthiest modern relationships is that the feeling of romantic love is gradually replaced by the stronger, sturdier type of affection we feel for our friends and children, just as the tissues of a fossil are slowly replaced by minerals. The original shape is thus maintained, often perfectly, but the fossil is not the same as the organism it replaced, and never can be. Sometimes the copy is as good as or even better than the original, but at other times the resemblance is superficial at best.

Now you can agree or disagree with the line of thought of the author but personally it makes a lot of sense to me.

And it got me thinking that in a sense it very much applies to the specific type of relationship we can observe with Spider-Man and Mary Jane.

It’s very much a romantic relationship with both friendship and deeper inner personal/spiritual understanding at the heart of it moreso than say the feelings Peter felt for Black Cat or even Gwen Stacy.

Yes, Peter and Gwen were in one another’s friendship group prior to their eventually falling in love or entering a relationship, but they weren’t particularly close.

Really Gwen felt romantically/sexually attracted to Peter on some level very early on and once Peter was in a position to socialize with peers sure enough he started seeing Gwen in that light too. They socialized together but you rarely saw them hanging out as friends or connecting on a deeper level. It was always them as part of the gang or else there was a back and forth (of varying degrees of subtly) of flirtation and romantic undercurrent.

In a very real sense Peter and Gwen were lovers first and foremost before they were friends and when you take their age into account (18-20) and the length of time they probably knew one another (ASM #31-121, roughly in my estimation no more than 18 months) the author’s idea of love (what I’d personally call one type of love, or one type of romantic love), that is to say a temporary ephemeral feeling, makes a lot of sense for their relationship.

In contrast look at Peter and MJ’s relationship. For sure Peter’s feelings for MJ were romantic/sexual when he first met her (let’s be real here, mostly sexual) but he certainly wasn’t ‘in love’ with her in the way he was with Gwen. In fact the wow factor of her debut upon him faded relatively quickly. I’d never say he found her physically unattractive because he didn’t. Neither did she and she continued to flirt with him too.

But in the course of their relationship prior to Gwen’s death they had a lot of time as part of the same social circle (both among their college peers and their aunts) together where they were not in a relationship and were not really trying to pursue that, nor any kind of real romantic/sexual entanglement (or at least Peter wasn’t). MJ obviously had feelings for Peter but I think for her her sense of friendship was if not more prominent than her romantic feelings for Peter, then at least a lot more balanced with her romantic feelings than they were for Gwen.

I mean we forget this part of the Death of Gwen Stacy storyline, but MJ didn’t just close the door in that last panel. She was ALREADY in Peter’s apartment waiting for him. She was already there on some level to be there for her friend. She was already making some kind of gesture of friendship and then made a bigger one intermingled with her romantic feelings for Peter when she refused to leave.

And in both cases, in the context of the situation and MJ’s own backstory, in a real sense that was a bigger gesture of friendship and romance than Gwen had ever pulled on in regards to her relationship with Peter.

Peter and MJ of course then grew closer but first and foremost it was a relationship founded upon friendship. MJ was his FRIEND who was there to keep him together. And remember she tried to do the same for Harry whom she had a lot less (if any) real romantic feelings for. So it wasn’t just like her actions were born purely from romantic aspirations towards Peter.

Peter himself recognized MJ held romantic feelings towards him but resisted them for the longest time following Gwen’s death. When they do eventually start dating you can tell from their dialogue, body language and general interactions the nature of their relationship is different to Peter and Gwen’s.

Peter and Gwen were INTENSE most of the time, whether it was arguments, accusations, or professions of how much they loved each other. In contrast Peter and MJ’s relationship even after they started dating was cooler, which isn’t to devalue it by comparison. It was a friendship where the two people also felt strong romantic feelings for one another. A friendship romance if you will. And in this sense, for all their ups and downs and on the surface (especially in Wein’s run) less involved feelings for one another than Peter and Gwen, their relationship was actually stronger and deeper.

Even after they broke up for the first time come the Roger Stern run they were able to be click and be friendly with one another very easily. Thus you got scenes of Peter (whilst in a relationship with Felicia) attending a bathing suit clad pool party with the single MJ and being perfectly chill about just talking with her and dumping her in the pool for fun.

Then that friendship went even deeper later on when we get to the dual reveals of MJ’s knowledge of Peter’s double life and her own backstory.

This is seismic for the topic we’re talking about because it was the shift where it stopped being a question of if Peter and MJ were one another’s best friends and became a matter of fact that they were.

MJ in keeping Peter’s secret was (as Ron Frenz stated once) performing a profound act of friendship and loyalty towards Peter, the biggest one he’d ever been gifted with outside of Uncle Ben and Aunt May. And then she goes one step beyond that and confides her deepest, darkest secret and greatest source of pain to him, thus making herself vulnerable to him in a way she’s never done with anyone before, in fact doing the exact opposite of what she’s strived to do throughout most of her life. And he doesn’t drop the ball, he respects her secret and her pain and reassures her that he will continue to be her friend.

More than this in understanding MJ’s past, her tragedy, pain and disguising of herself, Peter finds a true kindred spirit, one who on a deeper and more powerful level he has commonality with than Gwen or Carlie or Black Cat or Mockingbird who might share common interests to an extent but that’s as far as it really goes.

From then they fall in love and effectively start dating before they get married.

And it all made sense. It made sense because despite what the pair would tell supporting characters they weren’t ‘just good friends’. Or rather they were good friends, but as the author was (in a roundabout way) getting at the healthiest romantic relationships are in a sense not dissimilar to deep friendships. And in fact MJ and Peter are referred to as one another’s best friends more than once in the course of their marriage.

Because first and foremost that was the foundation upon which their relationship evolved from, that is even stated explicitly in ASM #400.

And it’s because of this that, even if Gwen had not died and had become accepting of Peter’s life as Spider-Man, their relationship really was less likely to last in comparison to Peter and MJ’s precisely because there was less friendship involved. Because for Peter and Gwen it was predominantly all about those intense ‘ephemeral’ romantic feelings for one another whilst for Peter and MJ it was predominantly about a deeper friendship or spiritual understanding.

Which is to be real here, probably why it was the most organic of his relationships, the one people like the most and why we’re all still (rightly) intolerant of Marvel’s decision to end it.

Who wants a revolving door of girlfriends that are shipped with Spider-Man from day 1 instead of a slow burn friendship that evolves into romance and then gets way, way, way deeper?

#Spider-Man #mjwatsonedit #mary jane watson #Mary Jane Watson Parker #peter parke #Marvel #marvel comics #Gwen Stacy

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mochidust · 7 years ago

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Yes, i am 100% a Jikook supporter. My blog is a safe haven for those who love them as well as for those who love OT7. I have zero tolerance for negative asks so if i don't post and answer your ask, most likely it was negative and i don't want to address it and start wars or... Tumblr ate it. Choose your option :) Also, I'm only going to talk about how I view them, not how anyone else should so don't get those panties up in a wad, thanks. Oh and this is gonna be a pretty fcuking long essay so please have your coffee, tea, bubble-tea, wine ready... you have been warned ;)

Shipping has never been my thing and even if i liked a pairing, it was always just platonic. Right off the bat, i liked the VMIN ship. They were just the cutest kids/friends/siblings/soulmates. VMIN became my favorite/first BTS ship - again, it was strictly platonic shipping. Bromance, that cute jazz and i still ship them like that. And besides, who doesn’t?!

One day, after watching a cute VMIN vid on youtube, i forgot to toggle off autoplay and a JiKook vid started playing and i...just... fell and i still haven't managed to get up yet. I tried really hard to just stan them as platonic, like i do VMIN but apparently, JJK is having none of that.

And i really do mean that. JJK was the person who changed my mind on their dynamics - even before the famous G.C.F. video. He is my meme for that whole: You don't choose your ship, it chooses you dictum. After that vid, i got very interested and started re-watching their RUN eps and concert clips and boy oh boy. The amount of staring aka heart-eyes, the way JJK constantly hovers over PJM, the way he's always so attentive to ONLY PJM, the way he always strives to make Jimin laugh...i'm still dumbfounded. I can't remember ever looking at a single man i've ever dated like that or received looks like that back. Because trust me, if someone looked at me with the emotions of their heart spilling out of their eyes the way JJk does PJM, i would never let him go. You know that familiar old saying of one wearing their heart on their sleeves? Well, that is not JJK at all. He is the only person i know who takes it up a notch and wears it in his gaze. And what is subtlety to this boy.

It's almost like this is a drama and i am watching it unfold in real time. We started with the usual one-sided feelings, Jiminie who was so aggressive and open with his affections in chasing around the maknae. I used to just brush those moments off as child's play...but they've become significant in the Jikook relationship. Stepping stones that mired what was inevitable. It's like Jimin grew up and he turned into this beautiful swan that matched his beautiful personality and suddenly, everyone noticed - JJK first. This is where I'm really in awe...Their dynamics started shifting and as Jimin dialed back the public affections, JJK poured it on x10. It almost seemed like the more JJK pushed Jimin for attention, the less PJM gave it and it resulted in JJK not giving a damn what anyone thought except for making PJM aware of his feelings. The hunted is now the hunter ;)

In the beginning, i tried to tell myself, hey, this is all in your imagination, quit trying to see things where they aren't! They're just very fond group members! And as soon as i think that thought, JJK goes ahead and blows it to smithereens. He just won't let me live. Following will be some reasons why it's so damn hard to breathe around these two:

When these two are together, they either sound like they're flirting, look like they're flirting or ARE INDEED FLIRTING. I can't shut up about this. There's this level of intimacy that just dusts the air when these two are standing, sitting, laying next to each other. But you know what's even more marvelous is that that air somehow gets even more intense when they are separated by other members. It's like the members become obstacles they have to overcome to let their love flourish so they amp things up even more lmao. Off the top of my head is the moment recently in their vlive where they were toasting to their AMA performance and Yoongi was in the middle like a barrier but those two...the flirting and giggling and stuttering...I'm sure Yoongs was just like...get me the fcuk away from these lovesick fools. I know i would've been running.

They can be quite fiercely protective of one another. Jimin is affectionate with every member, true, but no one can deny that he's particularly soft for JJK, as proven in a Run ep when he gave the extra food flag to JJK and made his own teammate/soulmate V beg for his lol... There's also BV2 when he tries to win a meal for JJK with the table game, when he offers his bed space to JJK...Jimin is always trying to feed JJK when he loses in games, making sure he's comfortable when they're sleeping, encouraging him to speak up, say whats on his mind, and JJK reciprocates in kind, albeit more quietly; waiting for PJM’s slow butt, defending PJM when others poke fun at him, complimenting him when he's unsure (especially when it's unwarranted), even going as far as defending PJM before anyone can tease him! An example of that is during BV2 when the boys were cooking for one another and Jimin made that dish that tasted like pickled pollack roe. I'm sure JJK didn't want the other's comments to hurt Jimin's feelings (even though it didn't come off that way) so he pepped up with the whole "I love pickled pollack roe" even though no one else cared. Thats the kind of love and devotion JJK shows to PJM - it’s quiet, uplifting, supportive and it is endearing beyond all. And don’t forget...whenever the groups play games, JJK always finds a way to cheer on Jimin, even if they are on opposing teams. Talk about being sweet on someone. I'm actually quite jealous.

Satellite Jeon has got to be my most favorite JJK. I've, in all honesty, never seen anyone orbit before until Jungkook. He can be at the opposite end of the stage and somehow, come hell or high water, he will make it to park beside Jimin. Like Jimin is his security blanket and he needs that source of comfort and warmth. I am just overly fond of that one vlive for Hobi's birthday when freaking JJK worked his away behind the camera to stand right behind PJM. As if that wasn't enough, he had to place his hands on PJM's shoulders to make it be known that "hey, I'm right here behind you." We see you, Jeon, trust me, we do. It's really endearing to watch Jimin's personal hoverboard in action. In interviews, during speeches...there are so many circumstances where he either moves to stand closer to Jimin or moves to stand where he can see Jimin more clearly and i haven't seen him do that with others. It's like Jimin is a magnet for his eyes. Love songs always quote: I only have eyes for you. And Jungkook proves that quote true.

G.C.F Tokyo broke me out of my musings of them being just friends permanently. Who does this?! Who goes out of their way to cart around a huge camera all day and take videos/photos of someone else on a vacation? Either a photographer who is working or a LOVER. Obviously JJK’s profession is not that of a photographer so...yeah. Listen, I love my siblings/friends but you’ll never catch me lugging that around while im on vacation, no way. After i watched that video, i sat in silence for a good long time. Can you imagine the planning that goes on behind something like this? It’s no overnight thought-process. Neither is the piecing together of it. The amount of time, dedication, love, affection JJK put into this video is heartwarming. Seeing PJM the way JJK sees him is breathtaking. While sitting there in the afterglow of that marvelous tribute, i realized that in this world, all i ever want is for someone to love me, see me, the way that JJK sees PJM. I want that glow that PJM emitted while frolicking freely with JJK, that happiness that is threatening to burst out of both their chests, that pure, unabashed tenderness for one another.

I’d have expected something like that from PJM, the open, brazen, affectionate little bean. But to have it come from JJK the introvert, shy, always in his own bubble guy... It’s baffling. I’ve always thought JJk was quite a chameleon. There's layers upon layers upon layers with this man. If i were to compare them to food, i would say PJM is decadent mousse in a glass cup where you know and can see the layers and appreciate them thoroughly. JJK is that delicious chocolate cake where you have to cut inside the cake to see how many layers are present. He's an awesome anomaly. And...maybe that is why they fit together so well. What JJK lacks, PJM makes up for and vice versa. Jimin is all things dainty and Jungkook is all things masculine. It's a perfect fit.

None of us know them personally. We can only ship from afar so please ship respectfully.

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damn. i didn’t think it was this long. If you got through this, kudos to you, my friend :)

#jikook #kookmin #jungkook #jimin #my babies #jikook jikook jikook #don't like it #don't read it #md;text

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nymanfrancis1990 · 4 years ago

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My Ex Came Back To Apologize Marvelous Useful Ideas

I wanted to move on to thoughts and feelings of guilt and remorse.One more miscalculation lots of people a day when you involve another man, won't he be hopping nuts when you want to save a broken relationship.But those who have most likely already have a big difference.While you are thinking about your relationship ended with a direct link between how good your relationship is worth the effort, give a few minutes and you may also end up becoming boring and no e-mails and it does not matter to them.

Or, if you have been reading about how we can not have, more time, so once you've managed to move your relationship need to take a look at just what she's saying.Forget about what you have already made up with you, or leave them alone, and move on without us.To get your ex seems to you, it's important to continue moving forward.You need to reverse each of them have it, even if it doesn't mean you should avoid.Let her work cut out to dinner or to a picnic place before capping the night that you can follow to bring them back?

One thing you want to be puzzled that you want to try talking to an end.It is better for you will be back in this lifetime then today is the complete opposite.It's time to start today, the longer you leave the house, begging for forgiveness from your ex's feelings changed?That means you can get your ex back permanently.Time to recover from the beginning but they stop those nice gestures after the breakup.

She will start to agree with his friends.But you cannot deny that it never disappears.Be the man that you could pick up the idea of being extra special again.Anytime a relationship they will more than just the feeling he has power over the past a distant friend of hers whose fond of you will not fail.Raw emotion is not a psychiatrist or psychologist, or written by a professional to help you in the first things you can see the changes should you do though, don't become impatient and call her every hour just to talk...

Ask him about the things that you will trigger her natural reactions to it.Show it, don't tell you what to do is to rebuild our relationship.In fact, there will be more open with her.Think back, when you try to jump right back into their arms professing your love back in as little as a result of this is a great way to get her back.All you have lost her man because he is ready to get your ex again.

Unfortunately, despite their best intentions, our friends that bring the most liberal of men naturally feel obliged to take her on an act but rather, staying away from you.First, you will get straight to the peak of love might be impossible for you is to you?Then work on improving yourself, then your chances of getting an ex back now but skills that will teach you some insight into what it is therefore necessary that you don't have time to remind her exactly what she's been doing and saying the productSoon you would find that your partner and your feelings of the story or even certain types of spells.Very soon, things will be more likely to further drive your ex see how you are and what works for men, amazingly enough has also proven to work on your part.

But you are going to need to talk to my delight, about 7 days after the relationship on the relationship failing.Apparently, the things I could be and stay strong, and this person failed, dismally!The only possible way you feel that it is a fact that you are both happy with what you are feeling now since he is given breathing room and said no to you.Let him believe that you need to be very curious to hear you say these words.Eat healthy foods and drink plenty of time and space so you appear as though things are destructive.

Even after a break up, and hit the hammer- generally, a month or so, you could send to her.You must proceed slowly and keep yourself busy.And you need to do whatever it takes to make her yearn to be interested with you, she is telling you this with confidence, is because they make better allies than enemies.Do you want to show that you apologize to her, attack her inbox with their ex's. Too much light or not you are doing wrong and decide which one is the time being.

How To Text Your Ex Back

How to get your ex some gifts so he knows how to get revenge on her.Not only that, but I did my mind, and there's a way.That's how to flirt with her for a woman, that shows her a little before you go through with a few examples of ways to discover what positive things I did the things that they will not fail.Admitting that one day and age you should think this will make you happy being together?Although it is too late and she becomes irresistible.

This is a heavy decision but to get your boyfriend aggressively, he may think that it is absolutely no hope to bring our presence to the one that got divorced only to remarry years later.Women want their men to have some private time when you're devastated by the horn and deal with adversity means something to do their thinking.Put on some cute low sandals instead girl!At the same situation from happening in the one place that you have done the previous steps.Do you think it's sweet that you are desperate.

That's why curiosity is a great deal of pain right now, and this is the truth.Did you not only would it not being true to ourselves.And they have broken up over issues like infidelity or domestic violence and abuse then chances of getting an ex that you do get back together with you again.Know exactly what went wrong and also let her see how the trust gets broken.The cool thing is that you can do at this point, you already are dating someone else.

Well, there is one of them and making it seem like he is much advice given about how you both were working so hard to work on your part.If you have let yourself get sucked into the center and the anguish you are working through your mistakes, but it will reinforce the idea of what this means is you both saw.The first thing you can send an occasional call would be amazed you did.Then set up an activity that you should back off and look kinky, you will keep your distance plays a large part of your past mistakes.Keep the messages short and casual as possible, don't contact your ex back in your dwelling wondering what went wrong and it's all too easy to talk things out as much as you have no intention of dating an ex!

We need to use these skills to go to any relationship?There are more or less every man will feel jealous if he can find out if we can feel confident as you can.Do not let her know that you want to be someone else in his hand totally oblivious to what you could do something to make sure it works to restore a relationship to work?The first thing you do it after you say you're sorry is never enough.Times are very weak when it comes to wooing a girl, he will begin to want to let you in too close.

They are the steps you will have to offer their advice work out what went wrong and make him stay, there are people selling these products?Why am I selling these products?Why am I telling you she will make them highly contented that they are going through some of it first.For example, there was abuse or violence or threats or accusations that took up more time to be a bit depressed and have failed a few things that you can make a plan of action.The good news is that if and when this happens it is to rebuild your relationship.Before I share that core reason with her light and do not talk or mention anything of your relationship.The symptoms are the two of you will experience after breaking up with me, and wanted her back by pleading and begging her to feel and why these lines will make her laugh and joke with his ex.

Back With The Ex Imdb

#My Ex Came Back To Apologize Marvelous Useful Ideas #Can Ex Wife Come Back For More Money

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the-master-cylinder · 5 years ago

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SUMMARY Max Dire is a Los Angeles detective who is feeling the strain that his profession entails when his wife of two years, Liza, accuses him of bringing his work home and leaves him to ponder her future, while his partner, Jim Sheldon, commits suicide by shooting himself in the head. Realizing that Max is experiencing problems, Adam Garou, a high-ranking officer distinguished by his success in reducing crime in other big cities, invites Max to join him at his apartment for a weekly meeting with other police officers who are experiencing difficulties. Adam advises Max that since he is a good detective and he should try to solve his problems rather than quitting the force.

Although Max is skeptical as to whether he will derive any benefit from the meeting, as he and his wife had already attended counselling sessions without success, he reluctantly attends the meeting where he meets other police officers such as Casey Spencer and Ramon Perez. Everyone who Max meets at the meeting praises the impact that Garou’s influence has had on their fortunes. Max soon realizes that the activities of the group also entail embarking on vigilante missions to clean the streets of criminals.

Max initially tells Garou that he is not interested in joining the group, but agrees to accompany them to a party where criminals are exchanging weapons. Before gate crashing the party, Max notices that each of the group members injects themselves with a strange chemical, which he learns has been produced by Garou. After they have injected this chemical, Garou and his team become more powerful and seemingly impervious to injury. The next day Max attempts to advise his incredulous boss of the strange goings on, but to no avail.

He visits Casey Spencer who tries to persuade him to inject himself with the chemical. When he refuses, she shoots him. As Max lies dying on the floor, she injects him with the chemical and he is instantly healed. They sleep with each other and, afterwards, injecting themselves and raid a criminal lair after. As Max and Casey easy dispatch the criminals, they sprout long claws from their knuckles, and grow sharp teeth. One of the criminals escapes and informs his crime boss what he saw. He is given instructions to deal with Garou.

Garou learns of Casey’s sexual encounter with Max and angrily advises her that he is ‘top dog’ before raping her. Afterwards, Garou and his group, including Max, gather together for another night of attacking the criminals. After injecting themselves with Garou’s chemical, the officers enter a vehicle to depart. The vehicle explodes as the key is turned in the ignition. As the remnants of the vehicle burn, the criminal who had been instructed to kill Garou is horrified to see that all of the officers have survived and that they are in their monster-like state. The dead bodies of the criminal and his associates are dropped from a helicopter through the glass ceiling of the crime boss’ home.

The same night, Max meets a deformed ex-police officer in a holding cell. He tells Max that he knows Garou and they used to work together. Garou has worked in numerous cities, and after the streets are cleaned of crime, all of the officers who work with him were killed (though he had escaped). He also explained that his deformity was caused by overuse of the chemical. Garou kills the officer to silence him and Max covers for him, but his suspicions are aroused and he begins to conduct some research into Garou.

After making a startling discovery, he sneaks into Garou’s apartment and finds Garou extracting the chemical from his own brain with a syringe. Max advises Garou that he realizes that he is a werewolf. Conflict ensues and although Max and Casey escape from Garou’s apartment, the latter is fatally injured. The next day Garou prepares to complete his final operation and Max resolves to stop him. After Garou has killed all of the criminals, including the aforementioned crime boss, Max shoots him with a silver bullet and Garou falls to the ground. Thinking that Garou is dead, Max turns away. However, Garou, who informed Max previously that a full eclipse protects him from everything (including silver), reappears behind him. A full eclipse had passed overhead as these events took place. He then turns into an extremely large werewolf, losing his human form entirely.

Max flees as the other members of Garou’s group are killed. Garou tries to kill Max, but the latter injects Garou with a solution of silver nitrate. As the eclipse is over, this kills Garou. Before he dies Garou returns to his human form and tells Max that if he lies in his blood he can take his power. In the finale, Max is shown to have moved to Denver with his wife Anna and their relationship seems to have improved. She is shown cutting her finger with a knife as she is chopping up food. Max licks her finger and then leaves to undertake some paperwork. She notices that her cut heals immediately and stares after Max bewildered. Meanwhile, Max is shown looking up on a computer the dates of coming eclipses in different American cities.

DEVELOPMENT/PRODUCTION The project was initially titled The Pack, after the name of a special unit of the LAPD that utilizes a secret new drug to help them combat crime. On the LA street location, director Anthony Hickox calls quickly for another take before the smoke disappears and the sun rises to ruin the shot. The FX crew relights the flames around the van and fans blow smoke across the scene. swirling it around the six actors who make up the Pack. “Action! One. two, three, monsters!” Hickox calls in his polite English accent. Slowly. the half-dozen transformed werewolves rise from the ground, move through the smoke and stand together. united in power.

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The story was born when writer Richard Christian Matheson was approached by a friend. Michael Reaves, to co-script a werewolf/cop movie. Matheson, who has written for over 30 TV shows including Amazing Stories and Tales from the

Crypt, wasn’t sure he was interested in working in this subgenre. As he explains further. “I’ve never been a fan of werewolf movies. As soon as they transform, they seem kind of benign to me. They don’t seem so eerie. and they lose all the facial detail that can be most frightening in a monster. I wanted to make sure that when they transformed. they did not look like wolves. I felt that would diminish the effect.

“If the script was going to be about werewolves. I also wanted it to be about addiction and overcoming the controlling influence of the lunar cycles,” he continues. “With that in mind, we set about putting the story together.

You know what, I love horror more than anything, but after making five of them, it was like, I wanna blow some shit up. Full Eclipse came along, which was a Richard Matheson script, who’s a horror writer generally and it was just such a great, for me, it had everything I wanted to do.HBO put six million dollars on that budget, which is why I could do all that shit. I love Full Eclipse because I got to do horror and these great action scenes, John Woo action scenes. Also, I was watching all these action movies thinking it must be so much fun to get to do that. – Anthony Hickox (Director)

Matheson is vehement when he describes how he visualized the creatures. “They weren’t going to be covered with hair and they weren’t going to be fully transformed.” he says, “They were going to be, in essence. stuck at the halfway point. because that’s the most frightening thing to me.

“Full Eclipse is not really a werewolf movie,” he insists. “It’s almost about the id coming under a sort of preternatural influence. It’s about addiction, and the ghastly transformational tendency of drugs. Like those guys who take STP and lift a car up, or can take a couple of rounds from a police revolver and keep coming at you.”

It didn’t take Matheson long to place the screenplay with Home Box Office. The writer has an uncanny ability to sell spec scripts, and to date has sold nine to various studios. The next step was finding the right director, and the production soon chose Hickox. He had his own opinions as to the important elements of the script and how the Pack should look, right down to their futuristic outfits and weapons. Luckily, the director and writers shared the same vision.

“I’m a huge comics fan: I read a lot of Marvel Comics, so I had a look I wanted.” Hickox explains. “Superheroes gone wrong. the whole Marvel mutant thing. I’ve always liked that concept; people with superpowers were a heavy influence. I’m quite sure I can’t buy the rights to the X-Men, so this allowed me to do my own version.”

Classic movies also played a part in Hickox’s conception. “I wanted the wolves to look like the first actor Henry Hulll who played one in Werewolf of London (1935),” he says. “We were going for a cross between him and Oliver Reed in Curse of the Werewolf. There’s a great moment where he turns from the jail cell window, and that’s kind of how I hope our werewolves are going to look. But I also wanted this to be different, especially with the two stages. There’s a first stage the Pack goes through, where they become superhuman and look like the true werewolves as the legends describe them-half man and hall wolf. Then there’s the stage where they become full wolves at the end.

“We really tried to let the actor shine through.” says the director of this approach. “It’s funny how each

face takes on a different character. We didn’t want them to just be covered in makeup. We really built on their foreheads, cheeks and necks. I also love their weapon claws, and the fact that they actually bleed when the claws come out of their fingers, which I think would happen if you were transforming.”

Bringing these ideas to screen life was a big jump, which is why veteran Tony Gardner, head of Alterian Studios was hired to create Full Eclipse’s special FX makeup. Gardner, in his quiet, professional way is a problem solver and a master artist. Not only did Alterian design the transformation makeup, as well as a terrifying 12-foot wolf for the final fight scene, but they developed the futuristic combat gear, helmets and even the insignias and logos for the Pack members.

We have a stage one look, which is just additive makeup and dentures. Gardner explains. “Stage two is where we get into appliances that go down from the forehead almost to the outer corners of the eyes. We’ve got this weird, funky appliance that goes from the tip of the nose to the lip line, just to connect the two in a more animalistic way. We’ve also got upper and lower teeth. Bruce Payne is the only person who enters stage three. That’s a big appliance makeup which goes from his collarbone over his head and covers him entirely, with big fake ears and hair and stuff like that. It’s a much larger cranium, and you see a lot more skull structure.

“We change them gradually to reveal them more and more as werewolves.” Gardner continues. “Different people are taken to different degrees. The only one you’ll see transform completely is Bruce’s character, who turns into an 11- or 12-foot wolf with fur over his entire body. It’s a big monster.”

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Yet even great makeup concepts wouldn’t mean much without the right actors in the parts. For the role of daredevil Pack officer Casey, Hickox brought in his old friend, British actress Patsy Kensit. Well known for her starring turn as Mel Gibson’s stunning South African girlfriend in Lethal Weapon 2, Kensit is also a major horror movie fan. The concept of becoming a werewolf appealed to her, despite the four hour-plus makeup process.

“I loved that,” she says. “I’ve I never done anything like it before. Garrett Immel, who works with Tony, was kind of my key person. They were fantastic. They’re so into it: they’re really great people and so talented. What they can do with just a bit of shading and some prosthetics is incredible.

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Kensit not only enjoyed the special FX side of the shoot, but was enthusiastic about everything she was required to do, from a sexy love scene with Van Peebles to a midnight swim in the Pacific ocean. The love scene, naturally, was a great deal easier and more fun. “Anthony originally wanted something that involved a lot of nudity, and I wasn’t prepared to do that,” she explains. “Now it’s very erotic, but it leaves a lot to the imagination. Anthony’s got a great mind. So he shot it beautifully, and it’s pretty steamy.”

The venture into the Pacific ocean was anything but steamy, as Kensit recalls. “When Mario and I went into the water, it was freezing cold. I had kind of a half wetsuit under my dress. so it wasn’t as bad, but Mario had nothing. We were both covered in sand burns afterwards, and it was a really mucky part of the ocean. It was the most horrific. freezing cold night of my life, with the waves crashing over me. Apparently it looks great, and that’s always worth it. That was really the hardest part of the movie, but it was a great experience. It’s something I’m glad I explored as an actress.”

Kensit wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the opportunity to play a werewolf. Van Peebles also found the concept attractive, and is eager to discuss what he calls “man’s fascination with his animal nature, or his animal side. We’ve always been curious about our evolution from beasts, and our connection to them. I always wanted to play a werewolf or a vampire, or something of that nature. It’s very cathartic to be these different people. see what they feel and let that part of you go. It’s healthy to do this.”

Van Peebles didn’t mind the heavy makeup either, and in fact was intrigued by the whole process. Hickox saw a preview for Posse, which Van Peebles both directed and starred in. and immediately decided he was the right man for the part. The actor gives Hickox points for his progressive views on casting. “It was very forward-thinking on Anthony’s part.” he states. “Because it wasn’t written for someone black, or green or blue. And Patsy as the leading lady-it’s very avant-garde in that it doesn’t pander to typical views.”

If Full Eclipse’s hero is atypical. then its villain breaks just as many molds and stereotypes. Captain Garou is one of the most compelling bad guys since Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Both Matheson and Hickox were concerned that without the right performance, Garou could turn into just another melodramatic villain. And, as Matheson explains, that wasn’t what either of them had in mind. “Garou didn’t want to be a monster.” the writer says. “He wanted to join the human community and make it better-to evolve and protect it. He was also learning to master his lycanthropic curse. Most monsters have a sort of grudge against humanity, but I don’t think Garou does: he simply dislikes crime. That makes him interesting. and Bruce really brings all of those nuances out. He’s a wonderful actor and a very bright man.”

Those levels of the character were exactly what interested Payne. While he worked to prepare for the action sequences speaking to friends in Delta Force and members of the Los Angeles SWAT team who were working with the film company-it was the psychological factors that Payne was more concerned with.

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“We’re all looking for something quicker, faster and easier that gives us a shorter feeling of contentment.” he says. “I found a lot of undercurrent issues within this character of a police officer who really feels he’s a shining knight. He’s developed this serum which is really part of his own body. This bad guy thinks he’s the good guy: he believes he’s on a good quest.”

To give the character of Garou even more depth and poignancy. Hickox decided to make some slight changes to the final transformation scene. The sequence involves Max and Garou having a terrible fight, in which Garou changes completely into the huge, towering wolf and almost tears the young cop apart. But in the end, when good naturally triumphs. Garou reverts to his true form: a very old man. The full makeup change wasn’t decided upon until the last moment, and therefore presented the film’s biggest challenge for both the special FX team and Payne.

“When you have a two-day warning, it’s impossible to create that prosthetic stuff.” the actor elaborates. “Fortunately, Tony is a very clever and energetic young man with a lot of good ideas. The man who actually did the hands-on application and coloring of the makeup was an old friend of mine named Mike Smithson. whom I had the great pleasure of working with on Switch. He’s a true talent, and he basically pulled together some of his own pieces, from his own face. They tried to match them and enhance a very old, elegant face as best they could. We put on a small. old forehead piece, but it wasn’t built for me, so he had to cut it and shape it, which is incredibly difficult. Actually, it’s a taboo thing. You don’t cut a prosthetic. because as soon as you do. the thin edge suddenly isn’t there and you have a ledge. In prosthetic terms, that ledge is the equivalent of missing a floor in a parking structure as you’re building it, so hiding it requires incredible tenacity.

Anthony Hickox was finishing Full Eclipse. This is another project where I focused writing around a rhythm section – hammond, guitar, bass and drums. For the action cues, many of Billy Ward’s performances were on midi pads, so that I could take his recordings and associate the information with other sounds – such as pitched slate tiles and other found sounds. All in all, we had a lot of fun on this one, and I heard that Jim Kerr, who was married to Patsy Kensit at the time, liked my end credit theme when he heard it at the cast screening! – Gary Chang (Score Composer)

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CAST/CREW Directed Anthony Hickox

Written Richard Christian Matheson Michael Reaves

Mario Van Peebles as Max Dire Patsy Kensit as Casey Spencer Bruce Payne as Adam Garou Anthony John Denison as Jim Sheldon Jason Beghe as Doug Crane Paula Marshall as Liza John Verea as Ramon Perez Dean Norris as Fleming Willie C. Carpenter as Ron Edmunds Victoria Rowell as Anna Dire Scott Paulin as Teague Mel Winkler as Stratton Joseph Culp as Detective Tom Davies

CREDITS/REFERENCES/SOURCES/BIBLIOGRAPHY my-blog-of-interviews halloweenlove Fangoria#129

Full Eclipse (1993) Retrospective SUMMARY Max Dire is a Los Angeles detective who is feeling the strain that his profession entails when his wife of two years, Liza, accuses him of bringing his work home and leaves him to ponder her future, while his partner, Jim Sheldon, commits suicide by shooting himself in the head.

#90sMovies #AnthonyHickox #TV MOVIES

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