#also rebecca laugh!!! v exciting!!

[all-thestories-aretrue]

NEIL NEIL NEIL NO. NOOOOO. NO. I FEAR. I FEEEEEAAAAARRRRR. UH OH UH OH.

Dif 11. Ten dice pool. No tens. No rerolls.

You cant go hold on wait after that -_- not cool man. Im already so stressed.

[ameenvie]

I Think He Knows - Jamie Tartt x fem!Reader

masterlist | ao3 | ko-fi | fic recs

"his hands around a cold glass makes me wanna know that body like it's mine"

Word count: 4.6k Warnings: nsfw, smut, minors DNI! kind of angry sex, unprotected sex (wouldn't recommend irl), oral(male receiving), fingering, p in v sex, praise kink, dirty talk, slightly dom!Jamie(?), hickeys, possessiveness Tags: smut Prompt/Summary: You go out to get your mind off work and Jamie - but to your surprise he shows up at the same bar as you. Things happen. Put me in horny jail. A/N: This is the first smut I've written in a hot minute, and my first ever Jamie fic, so I just hope it doesn't suck! 😭❤ I still have to get the hang of how to write him. Maybe the intro/non-smut part is a bit too long, but idk I kept rewriting this so much. :') I hope you enjoy nevertheless! ❤❤❤

It felt like thousands of hammers were beating down onto your head. You were staring at your computer screen, trying to grasp what you were looking at, but the stress, the flickering office lights, and the constant noises of talking made it impossible.

“I need a break” you exclaimed as you promptly stood up from your desk. The conversation next to you came to a halt as Keeley gave you a worried look.

“Are you alright, babe?”

“Sure, I just need a little fresh air” you answered with a sweet smile. Even though Keeley was your boss, she was also one of your best friends, and you were thankful to the universe that you met her.

You were the social media manager at KJPR responsible for the AFC Richmond brand. And as fun and exciting as it was, there were moments when you just wanted to run away and never look back. Such as today.

The team had a new brand partnership deal, and few of the players had to post to their socials about certain products. It was really nothing extraordinary, but it was a big brand so it was crucial that everything was on schedule. Now you were in the reporting phase, and you haven’t received the necessary info from one of the players yet. As you stood outside the office building, leaning against the wall, you picked your phone out of your pocket and dialed him. It rang once, twice… and he hang up on you. You rolled your eyes and cursed under your breath as you headed back to your desk.

“Need any help?” Keeley asked with the sweetest, most concerned voice you’ve ever heard, but you just shook your head.

“Nothing I can’t handle! I’m headed to the dog track if that’s alright. I need to take care of something.”

“Give ‘em hell!” she replied and left you alone.

You jumped into your car and drove over to Nelson Road, where you knew the boys had their training at the moment. The man at the front desk recognized you and let you in, and you headed to Rebecca’s office first to say hello, then went to the stands and took a seat to wait until the team was finished with practice. When Ted noticed you, he gave you that huge moustachy smile of his and waved at you. You mirrored the gesture before your gaze wandered back to the players.

You sat close enough to the pitch to make out his facial expression when he saw you. First, he seemed annoyed, then he gave you the most dramatic eyeroll you’ve ever seen before he ran away laughing.

You weren’t sure what he expected your reaction to be, but you knew you just looked annoyed.

“Whistle! WHISTLE!” You heard coach Kent scream at the players, and you chuckled. The team gathered around the coaches then made a beeline towards the changing room. You knew this was your cue to follow them as well.

You leaned against the wall as you waited for Jamie, hugging your bag. Of course because he was aware that you were waiting for him, he’d be dead last to leave. You weren’t sure if it was against your person or just the fact that he hated to cooperate. Maybe both. A few of the players started to leave and they waved and smiled at you as hey passed.

After what seemed like an eternity, he finally stepped out of the locker room – as you predicted – dead last. He stopped in the doorway with his hands in his pocket.

“I tried to call you.”

“I know” was all he said, and you raised your eyebrows at him. He was so cocky, you kind of wanted to punch him in the face, but that wouldn’t look too good on your resume.

“Alright, I guess you were busy then.”

“Nah, not really” he answered, and you saw a shit-eating grin spread on his face. God, Jamie.

“Look, I hope you don’t think I enjoy this, but I need the results of the campaign, okay? And you can only blame yourself, because you are the one who insisted that nobody can manage your account other than you. It would make all our lives much easier if I could just check the data myself.” You knew you were rambling and maybe talking a little too fast, showing how annoyed you were. You didn’t like giving people the satisfaction of knowing they got under your skin, but Jamie was world class at that.

“A’ight” he mumbled and started searching for his phone, then handed it to you. “If you want to check it so bad, go on, be my guest.”

You swore your eyes shot daggers at him. You grabbed his phone and took a seat on the bench next to you. He followed suit without a word, hands in his pockets.

You unlocked his phone and opened Instagram, but as you were navigating through it you saw a notification pop up from a girl with a text saying: “try me 😘”. Just a tiny glance at her profile picture was enough for you to conclude that she was gorgeous, and you felt your stomach do a flip. Were you… jealous? Of one of Jamie’s flings? C’mon.

You shook your head as if you could shake the thought out of it as you proceeded to check the necessary info. You didn’t realize, but while you were doing this, Jamie’s eyes searched your face like it held the answer to the universe’s biggest question.

You sent yourself a mail from his phone and shoved it back at him. He looked at you with a look you’ve never saw on his face before, and you could swear for a second that it was guilt sitting in his eyes.

“Thanks for nothing” you said as you grabbed your bag and left.

“Nice seeing you too!” he shouted as you slammed the door behind you. Your blood was boiling in your veins as you were walking back to your office. You dropped yourself onto your chair and buried your face in your palms. What a fucking day. He always finds a way to mess with your head. The sounds of Keeley knocking on your door snapped you out of it.

“Come in” you sighed as you looked at her with a defeated expression.

“Jamie again?” she asked sympathetically as she sat down in front of you.

“Always” you scoffed and started fiddling with a pen on your desk. He’s taking the piss out of me, always trying to get under my skin!” Keeley didn’t say anything, she just gave you a knowing look. “Stop looking at me like that, I know what you want to say!”

“I’m not saying anything” she replied and locked her mouth with an imaginary key and threw it away.

“That’s what I thought” you chuckled and took a deep breath. “I’ll be done with this by the end of the day, and then we can open your not-so-secret stash of champagne in your office, what do you say?”

“Sounds perfect, love!” As she left your office you delved into your work and tried not to think of Jamie. It was so silly – you thought. You felt like you were in school, arguing with yourself about your feelings, and having a crush on the guy who pulled on your ponytail. There was no way you were jealous right? Jamie was insufferable in general – cocky, arrogant, full of himself. Hard to work with. Attention seeking. But he had his moments where he was also funny. Caring. Honest. Compassionate. He was an amazing footballer.

You groaned out loud. You were wrapping up your day as you decided you’re going to put an end to this madness. You went home, picked out a nice dress – nothing too fancy, but it still made you feel like a million bucks. You called yourself an uber and asked them to bring you to one of your favourite bars. You were excited to finally grab a few drinks and let your hair down for a night, and maybe even go home with someone handsome to take your mind off your annoying feelings that started to bubble to the surface.

You took a seat at the bar and ordered your favourite drink. The bartender winked at you, and you chuckled. You propped yourself up on your elbow and started to look around. People were mingling, talking, laughing. Some couples were hiding in the more secluded corners of the room, whispering sweet nothings to each other.

You got your order but before you could thank the bartender for it, you heard a voice all too familiar.

“That’s on me. And another one, will ya’?” You turned around to face him as he was smiling down at you. Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes locked with his – you could never exactly pinpoint what colour they were, sometimes they seemed blue, sometimes grey, even green. You felt like you could stare at them forever. This wasn’t happening. You weren’t even sure if you ever saw him out and about like this. Instead of his usual tracksuit or puffy west he was wearing a white button-down shirt, with a few of its buttons unbuttoned, its sleeves rolled up, showing his tattoos. His hair was let loose, and a few strands fell into his eyes. You felt your heart drop into your stomach, and you were so shocked you couldn’t think of a single word to say, like your brain just short-circuited.

“Wow, Jamie, so nice to see you here, what a lovely coincidence! Come, join me for a drink!” he said, grounding you back to earth.

“Very funny. What are you doing here?” The words came out a little more accusatory than you meant, but you couldn’t help yourself. You came here to take your mind off him, and here he was, hotter than ever, standing so close to you that the scent of his cologne made you feel lightheaded. You wished the earth would just open up and swallow you whole.

“Just blowing off some steam. Celebrating my free weekend, I guess.” He shrugged.

“Alone?” Your question seemed to catch him off guard, as he raised his eyebrows. Your answer was just another shrug. “I see, I see, you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I know how this goes.” You waved with your hands in front of you, like you could shoo the image of him with other women out of your brain. You felt like you were going insane. In the meantime, he got his own drink, and he nursed it on the bar top with his left hand, the other in his pocket as he faced you. He looked even more gorgeous than usual, the way the shirt hugged his muscles ignited a flame in your body you never wanted to acknowledge.

“You know you’re being very judgmental now despite the fact, that you are alone as well.”

“I mean, it’s not my DMs that are full of gorgeous woman inviting me to tango” you scoffed, but immediately after you said the words out loud you scolded yourself internally for sounding so pathetic. Fucking hell.

“Are you jealous, love?” He grinned as he took a sip out of his drink. You rolled your eyes and stood up from your seat, but not before you managed to take a peek of how his lips touched the glass as he drank, and how perfect his jawline looked as he tilted his head slightly. FUCK.

“Maybe in your dreams, Tartt.”

“The lady doth protest too much” he laughed. You were quite shocked that Jamie Tartt out of all people would quote Shakespeare to you, but you were too angry to acknowledge that. You shook your head and turned your back on him, trying to get away, anywhere. You walked to the back of the big room and found yourself in a smaller conversation room – it was empty.

You took a deep breath, and you turned on your heels to head for another, more populated spot, but as you opened the door he stood there, one hand leaning against the doorframe, his drink in the other. He seemed like he was thinking.

“Jamie, I swear to God-” You couldn’t finish your sentence because he pushed himself into the room with you. You felt your heartbeat in your throat and heard it drumming loudly in your ears. He was so close. You closed the door behind him, and you only realized what that suggested after you saw his cocky smile. You didn’t immediately leave the room. You stayed there with him. It was painful to admit – even just to yourself -, but you wanted to be there with him.

He stepped closer, practically caging you between the door and his body. You felt your heart racing and your head spin as you looked up at his gorgeous face. Neither of you said anything, you were just searching his face, eyes darting between his gaze and his lips as you weren’t sure what to do. You didn’t realize he was looking at your lips as well, his breath fanning your face. He slowly leaned in; his lips were barely hovering above yours. Your heartbeat went into full overdrive, and you let his lips linger there for a second before you closed the gap and kissed him.

It all seemed to happen so fast you weren’t even sure it was real. You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried one of your hands in his hair as he was locking the door behind you. In any other circumstances he would be fuming about you ruining his hair, but not now. His hands were tracing your body as he pulled you into him – from your back to your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake before they finally settled on your bottom as he pulled you even closer. Your nerves were on fire, and you felt waves of arousal wash over you.

When you broke away to get some air, he wasted no time and started to plant small kisses on your cheek, slowly moving to your throat before settling at the soft spot between your neck and clavicle. You moaned his name which made him smile against your skin. You couldn't help but smile too. Somewhere a tiny voice in the back of your mind scolded you for being so euphoric about this whole situation, but you didn’t care. All you cared about is Jamie’s lips on you and the way his hand sneaked under your dress and drew hot circles on your skin.

“My name never sounded so pretty before” he mused before he pushed the strap of your dress aside to kiss a mark onto your skin just above your breast. Your breath hitched as you tried to make him stop.

“Stop it, people will see” you whined, which just encouraged him even more. You felt the prickling sensation on your skin, you were sure he’s going to leave a mark. When he finished, he adored his masterpiece before planting a soft kiss on the red spot he left behind.

“Maybe I want that, love” he whispered against your ear as he caressed your thighs. “I want everyone to see that you’re my girl.”

The sudden possessiveness caught you off guard and you let out a small whimper. Your common sense was thrown out of the window a while ago and at that moment that was all you wanted as well – everyone to see that you were his girl. He stopped for a second to look into your eyes. He placed his hands on your cheeks and pulled you in for another kiss. You saw stars as he kissed you with the passion of a starved man, his tongue gently caressing your lips before he went all in.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and in a second, he lifted you by your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his hips which caused one of your shoes to fall off as he started to back towards the sofa. While doing so, he bumped into the small table, knocking his drink over. You both chuckled before he finally sat down, with you straddling him.

Your dress was ridden all the way up your thighs, making your black lace panties visible, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Jamie. His gaze seemed hungry, like he was ready to devour you any second, and you felt the heat creeping up to your ears.

“I see someone was planning on getting laid tonight” he said teasingly.

“Oh, fuck off, Jamie!”

“C’mon love I’m just messing with ya” he smiled at you before he put his hand on the back of your head and pulled you in for another kiss. He was smiling into it, the bastard. In this position you couldn’t help but feel his bulge press against you, which made your blood boil in your veins. You wanted him so bad. You let out a shaky breath as you unconsciously started to grind yourself against his clothed length. Jamie moaned under you, and he furrowed his brows like he was trying to focus on the sensation, nothing else.

You slowly unbuttoned his shirt, leaving kisses on his chest as you progressed, and when you finished you slightly pushed it off his shoulders. You were mad for him, and even though you didn’t want to admit, you wanted nothing more than him fucking you right then and there. Little did you know that Jamie was feeling the same.

He looked at you with those gorgeous puppy eyes and you couldn’t help yourself anymore. You planted open mouthed kisses on his sharp jawline, neck, down his chest. You felt bold all of a sudden, and started to suck a mark onto his neck, which he rewarded with a groan. You took a second to examine the red mark you left on his skin before you licked it softly to ease the pain left in its wake. Jamie was a moaning mess under you, bucking his hips into you involuntarily, his hands gripping your thighs for dear life. You felt bold, wanted, sexy. Like a million bucks.

“Jamie, I want you to fuck me” you whispered into his ear, and you thought his soul left his body in that second.

“Fucking hell, angel” he answered and instantly one of his hands was in your hair, pulling you into another kiss, his other hand pushing your dress higher on your body, until your whole ass was exposed. “Such a greedy lil’ thing, aren’t ya?”

He looked at your dampened underwear as he hovered his finger over it, then swiped one big stroke from your entrance to your clit through the damp fabric. You shut your eyes and threw your head back from the sensation. Finally feeling his touch on you was like heaven. The flames of need were eating away at your body, and you weren’t sure how long you can stand the teasing.

“Please, Jamie”

“You’re fucking cute when you beg” he said, a cocky grin on his face, but before you could say anything, he hooked one of his fingers into your panties, and pulled them aside, exposing you completely. You felt flustered, your confidence wavered. He didn’t leave you time to overthink, because he pushed one of his fingers into you without any difficulty. You let out a moan which he mirrored before he spoke. “Shit, all this for me? I don’t deserve you.”

“You’re damn right you don’t” you chuckled as he started to pump his finger into you, before quickly adding another one. He smiled at you as you rested your forehead against his, slowly riding on his fingers. With his free hand he managed to pull down the strap of your dress enough to free your breast and he started to kiss and nib on your sensitive skin, leaving another hickey just above your nipple.

You hissed at the sensation and bucked your hip a bit harder, making him press into you deeper. Jamie’s fingers felt like they were made for you, and he damn well knew how to use them. As you started to ride him a bit harder, he started to curl his fingers inside you to press against your sweet spot and started circling his thumb against your clit with just the right amount of pressure, it made you see stars. You were a moaning, whimpering mess as his fingers fucked you senseless, pushing deeper and deeper with every movement.

“I know, love” he whispered between kisses. You bit down on his lower lip before you tongues started to dance around each other, and he moved his free hand to cradle your breast and caress your hardened nipple. It was all too much – his lips on yours, his hand on your tit and his fingers fucking you like there was no tomorrow.

You felt tension build in your body, your nerves wind up, ready to be released any second. You started riding his fingers harder and faster, chasing that high you felt was so close.

“C’mon angel, come for me, that’s it. That’s my good girl” he whispered against your lips, and just after a few more pumps of his fingers you came crashing hard with Jamie’s name falling from your lips like a prayer, your veins filled with fire as your vision turned white.

He wrapped you in his arms and started to draw circles on your bare back as you came down from your high while he placed small kisses into the crook of your neck and on your temple. After a minute of collecting yourself, you sat up and kissed him again as you started to undo his belt. You definitely weren’t unaware of the huge bulge in his pants, and you wanted to ease his suffering.

He just watched you do it, with one of his arms spread across the back of the sofa. He looked mesmerized by how beautiful you were. After you finished with his belt you undid the buttons of his slacks and pulled them down with his underwear. He just watched you and you could swear he was holding his breath.

You bit your lip as you took the view in, before you started slowly stroking his hard member. He threw his head back and he moved his hand to caress your cheek. You continued to slowly jerk him off, but you couldn’t help yourself. You licked the tip of his dick, and you made it a show. It was slow, sensual, and you looked at him for the whole time. When he caught your eyes he let out a shaky breath and involuntarily bucked his hips towards your face.

You swiped your tongue against his shaft before you took him fully into your mouth and started bobbing your head. His hand moved to tangle in your hair as he guided your rhythm slowly. He moaned under your touch, loving the way your lips felt around him. You started to pick up your pace a little and he rolled his hips against your face. His hand started to push you deeper onto his cock, and the feeling of his length in your throat made your eyes swell up, and you moaned around him.

“C’mon love” he said and guided you away from him, back onto his lap. You straddled him again, his now bare dick pressed against your wet pussy, and you saw stars from the sensation. “Maybe next time we’ll finish that, yeah? But now I want all of you” he said as he aligned himself to your entrance.

Next time was all you heard in your head. You leaned down to kiss him before you slowly lowered yourself onto him. You relished in the sensation of his cock filling and stretching you inch by inch, it was delicious. Jamie’s lips parted slightly as he threw his head back, enjoying the moment just as much as you did. As he bottomed out, you kept still for a second, barely moving before starting to roll your hips, slowly lifting yourself before coming down again.

“Jamie” you whined, and you held onto his shoulders for dear life as you rode him. His fingers dug into your skin at your hips where he held you. You moved so perfectly in sync it was like you were made for each other, the way he rolled his hips into you made you see stars.

“So good for me, love. Taking me so well, my good girl” he whispered against your lips after he sat up, wrapped you into a tight hug and kissed you. He swiped his tongue against your swollen lips, and you bit down on his. You dug your fingers into his hair as you started moving faster and faster, getting overwhelmed by the sensation.

Jamie moved his hand from your hair to your cheek, swiping your lips with his thumb before pushing it into your mouth. You licked it slowly before he pulled it away and moved it to your swollen clit. You gasped at the perfect feeling of his finger being on you again, before he started to circle his thumb around the sensitive bud. You felt your walls tighten around him, which ripped a moan from his lungs. He never stopped his movements, he fucked into you like he never wanted anything else.

“Taking me so well, babe. So tight for me” he whispered against your burning skin. His words poisoned your mind, and they ran through your veins, igniting everything inside you. You buried your head into his shoulder as you felt your climax approaching. He was filling you up so perfectly, his dick hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. He was gripping your thigh so hard you wondered if it’s going to leave a mark. You kind of hoped it would. You felt the knot in your stomach tighten, and his name fell from your lips like a prayer.

“Jamie, I-“ you gasped and you dug your nails into his shoulders.

“That’s it, angel. Come for me” he moaned against your ear and you knew he held himself back. You rolled your hips against him once, twice, all your nerves wind up before they inevitably snapped, and another orgasm washed over you. You moaned into Jamie’s mouth – your vision went white, your muscles clenched around him as you came, which gave him what he needed to reach his own high as well, hugging you tightly onto him. The silence in the room felt deafening all of a sudden. You nuzzled your face into the crook of Jamie’s neck, and he started to slowly caress your hair as he hugged you close.

After your nerves calmed down a bit you started to collect yourself and he helped you to clean up the mess. He took your hand and kissed you, before looking into your eyes.

“So… do you want to get out of here?” His grin was the widest you’ve ever seen and you laughed.

“Yeah, sure” you chuckled as he wrapped his arm around you.

***

The next morning you woke up to your phone ringing. It was Keeley.

“Yeah?” you asked in a sleepy voice, looking over at Jamie who was laying next to you, his arm wrapped around your waist. You were in his bed. He was already awake, looking at you with a sheepish smile.

“So, I know you don’t want to talk about this” Keeley started, her energy through the roof, she spoke so fast you barely had time to acknowledge her words, “but I think you should talk to Jamie. You should tell him you’re into him!” A very telling laugh found its way past your lips before you spoke and you heard an audible gasp on the other side of the line.

“I think he knows” you said to Keeley while looking at Jamie, who was now chuckling next to you as he kissed your free hand.

[orangesuitlove]

My Light Side - Ep.5 - The Meeting.

LEA

Hours before the gala, they brought each of us together with our stylist one by one and made a selection of outfits for the magazine in front of the camera lights.

On top of that, we had a stage show.

It all happened so fast that it really upset me that Penelope had to spend two nights without sleep working on the songs. That's why he couldn't go to school.

I thought the two-song mix we did would be really appreciated.

Yes, we have grown. We came out as a good teen group and we had a nice audience. I'm sure those who have followed us since our youtube videos are proud.

I was just thinking that I haven't contacted any big names yet. I knew a few big names had started following me on Instagram. However, I never wrote to them as I was afraid to text them.

I smiled when Rachael came up to me with her hair done up. They wore a V-neck sleeveless top. It was a fabric that completely covered the upper part and was covered with stones. It sparkled. Although all the buttons on her collar were open, her decollete was not visible. I was wearing a black crop top with thick straps and a pleated skirt with white stripes, which was also chosen as my usual color.

They had chosen the right outfit for her. She sat next to me and looked in the mirror. "My arm muscles look gross."

"Don't, Rachel. It is quite natural for an artist who beats the drums for hours to develop arm muscles.''

''Artist. I love this.''

Then she started stamping her feet. Tap.. tap.. "Is it normal for me to be a little too excited?"

I shook my head. ''No way. Because right now I am filled with fear and excitement."

Her eyes were smiling as she smiled. I loved Rachel's smile. "Well, what did they dress Melody in?"

I thought a little. "I'm assuming you'll have Capri in your outfit." she laughed when I said. "It will definitely be a capri!"

I took her arm and rested my head on her shoulder. In fact, if Suzy saw this move of mine, she'd instantly try to hold back, worrying that my blow dry would spoil. But I don't care.

For a while I thought we were reassuring each other in silence. So we stayed. Finally, Rachel said, "Do you think if we don't screw up today, we're going to start hanging out with famous people?"

"Most likely," I commented.

"Honestly, it would be nice to talk to cool drummers." she said, raising her arms. "I want to know people who can race these."

'You are crazy'

And for a very long time we just laughed.

Along with our fear and excitement.

-2 hours later-

When we went backstage after the stage performance, we encountered many people patting our backs in the crowd. We got a big round of applause and the ratings were pretty high during our stage.

Rebecca's drum kit was rolled up and carried on a rack-like roller stand. I was walking next to him. And a very different crowd from the crowd we were in was advancing towards us in front of us.

"Next show is ours guys! Get Michael's guitar ready for set."

"How are the drums?"

''Hurry up! Last 28 minutes!"

I saw the staf team hastily carrying their musical instruments upwards.

Which group was it? I couldn't remember all the names that will be performing today. How many bands were there playing musical instruments and participating in mtv?

I was excited. We could speak the same language with people from the same genre. I continued to watch the musical instruments.

'Hello.'

When I turned in that direction with the voice behind me, I saw a man standing in front of me with black curly hair and a black bass guitar.

'It was a good performance.' After saying that, he smiled.

I knew this man.

But I realized I forgot his name. Damn.

'Well, thank you. I could say. I still had my guitar around my neck and I involuntarily started touching it. I avoided eye contact.

'I'm Calum.' He said and that made me turn to him again. His black eyes were soft and he was looking at me with pride.

'Lea.' I said and smiled. 'I'm a little nervous and tired, sorry.' When I said that, he shook his head.

'Being new is hard, I know. But you looked very professional. I can say that especially your soloist was the star of the stage.' Then he added. 'I am confident that your success will continue.'

I nodded. 'Thank you again. And I'll be there to watch you.'

He chuckled and looked around. 'This is what might make me nervous. I hope you like it, Lea.' Then he began to stare at the stage. 'After this show, ours will begin. I have to go.'

'Goodbye Calum.' He was ready to go when I said, but he paused and turned to me. 'I will follow you.'

'Pardon?' When I said that, he quickly took out his phone and went on his Instagram. He opened the dial pad and handed me his phone. 'You have to say your username.'

I was surprised but happy. I took the phone and gave him what he wanted. 'Ok.'

He stared at the screen of his phone for a few seconds, nodded with a smile, and left.

Calum...

Then the songs and clips that came to my mind were enough for me to remember who he was.

After a while, a blond boy with a long shirt and a guitar passed me by. The boy, who stood much taller than me, started running straight to the stage without paying attention for a second. Then, from another corridor, a curly man, who was talking to a girl next to him, started to come, who was skinner than the others. He looked quite mature and cool tho.

Also, he was holding a drumstick in one hand and turning it between his fingers while looking at the piece of paper in the girl's hand.

"Ashton Irwin," Rebecca said, coming behind me and looking at the man I was watching. "Drummer of 5SOS." When I turned to him, he turned his blue eyes towards me. "I really like his style." Then she turned her head back to Ashton. Ashton, who I realized was over talking to the girl, smiled when he saw us looking at him and raised his hand. "You were so good girls!" Then he pointed his finger at Rebecca. ''Especially you. I don't know how to beat your show! I'll probably have to throw one of my drumsticks to Mike after the show."Rebecca nodded without breaking her smile. "I would love to see this.""Then let the show begin!" and he began to get ready, allowing the girl to put on her headphones.5SOS.I had just met a group that hung out similarly to us, and realized that there was an enemy we had to cross.

Oh my god.

The whole story : https://www.wattpad.com/1212430020-my-light-side-calum-hood-ep-5-the-meeting

[goblinconceivable]

oh ffs, i have feels but also head exploded

So basically someone liked a story I wrote a million years ago and mostly forgotten about, and when that happens I often reread the thing.  (I can’t be the only one who does that...)  Can’t say I’ve thought about Alex/Izzie since I wrote it, couldn’t even tell you when I stopped watching the show, though I think it was before her cancer.

Anyway I infected myself with feels for them again.  And I dig the style I was using, 1+1 started a third chapter for funsies and should have stopped there.  Because I did some reading and watched some clips and it’s all too much and when that happens I meta.

Usual mishmash, structure desired but no work put into achieving it.  Classic brain dump.

Okay, fundamentals first.  I am for now ignoring how Izzie/KH left the show.  Because they had to exit her somehow and I’m sure Shonda was pissed at her, (or was leaving the door open for her return but I doubt it.)  Haven’t seen it, if I needed to I could work it into my conception of their whole arc, but since I’m more critically hung up before that point, not worrying about it.

What’s got me messed up is that RIGHT AFTER Izzie promised to not go crazy, she... went crazy.  Like, WTF was that about?  I get that GA is all about the soapy drama, that is why I stopped watching.  First couple seasons: brilliant.  Downhill from there.  But two things:

1) We never get to see these two happily together.  One hot second and bam.***  Every.  Time.  Shonda allowed it for Meredith and Derek, but in my brain other couples got it for periods of time at the least.  But these two, nope.  And know what?  THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN FASCINATING TO WATCH.  I could delve into this and might swing back around but trying to hit highlights.

2) It set them on two different storylines instead of one.  And Izzie got the short stick.  Yes I can see how it works on paper, but not on screen.  There are limits to the visual medium and limits to how much screen time they were given, which pretty much destroy the ability to nuance something this complex.  

a) Izzie’s in her own world dealing with a ghost and is basically in two relationships at once (mental note to look for parallels with Alex’s exit and Jo v Izzie.)  Except one’s a dream and the other is a reality that is still developing, yet she can’t give attention to.  She has to fight every time to be there for Alex in the real world, and we don’t really get to explore her struggle.  It often just looks like distraction and distance and him being second right after she firmly laid out that she cares about him.

b) Alex is in a relationship and is super happy and excited and wants the perfection he’s dreamed about to be real so much he’s overlooking everything that’s off.  In his own little dream world I guess, but like, the whole thing skews into this being the story of Alex while Izzie is wandering in circles somewhere over in that direction, all serving the purpose of advancing exploration and development of Alex’s character.  When did KH ask to be let out?  If it was after this point, Shonda svcks.  I mean, it is cool to watch him really blossom, but since he’s doing it under his own steam I’m left with a bad taste in my mouth.  Because he’s not really in a real relationship.  I want to see him get that, I want to see it for real.

***What IS interesting, I’ll admit, is that when they’re not together, they’re beautiful.  Which is most of the time, so they gave me that.  I’m a massive fan of the bittersweet, the star crossed, the never-quite-on-the-same-page, the nuance, the “it’s a deeper connection, a deeper love than just romance.”  Thank gosh, it is time for excited thoughts.  Because there is a strong friendship and mutual reliance and helping each other grow, pushing and giving hard truths and encouragement, and yes romance is woven through this but not the genesis and used more in terms of nudging everything along the path.

I love that Alex basically imprints on Izzie.  I love that he loves her the whole time.  But he’s willing to step back.  He may get jealous and resentful and petty and scared and mean.  But those are natural human emotions, Izzie gets them too, and they’re fundamental to his character and through those things he learns and grows.  Izzie doesn’t make him.  She entices him.  Yeah, often directs him, especially at first.  But at some point he’s growing on his own, in fits and starts, in reaction to his own emotions.

For example, when Izzie tells him she slept with George, he gets pissed, but also admits why pretty readily.  And he tells her the truth, remarkably straightforwards.  He reaches out to her a lot.  And she turns him aside a lot.  And he keeps loving.  Even if romance is off the table.  He runs after her a lot.  Sits next to her when she’s upset a lot.  Is understanding a lot.  He’s different with her, and look I’m a fangirl, it’s a trope, I swallow bait line and hook.  Which should be bait hook and line if my vague understanding of fishing is correct.  I fished once, with safety implements, and still cried even as they removed the fish and popped it back into the water.  (Okay I just reread to sort out where I’d gotten too and it’s hook line and sinker.  Statistically someone will probably read this someday, you have my full permission to laugh at me.  Anyway...)

The quintessential moment, the revved to 100, of course being when Izzie is clinging to a dead Denny.  They’re all standing around.  No one even looks surprised with jilted Alex talks to her.  In a really caring way.  And this is still fairly early on, wasn’t watching anything but their scenes but this had to be rare sight eh?  (Mebbe?)  And then he picks her up and sits down holding her and she clings and cries and like symbolism and could essay that but not going to right now because the broad relevant stroke is that Alex loves Izzie selflessly.  And this is the pinpoint core of why I can buy his ending, because he can’t NOT love Izzie.  I don’t think he even wants to stop.  Though he can set it down in his heart and let her go and doesn’t pine.  But he never stops loving her and it’s so many kinds of love imperfectly yet perfecly forged.

Forged.  But also born.  Stars uncrossed.  I have emotions without words and if I try I’ll never get out of it to move on, so moving on.

(Oh, George telling Alex to talk to Izzie because she won’t talk to him about whatever it was.  Isn’t is crazy that Izzie’s emotional squishy bestie goes to the emotionally stunted bad boy to help her because...  it’s an understanding of the two-way Izzie/Alex bond, but also this crazy trust that Alex will show up.)

I love that Izzie isn’t blind to his faults, truly doesn’t like his faults, but has eternal faith for who he is and can be.  She always saw him as someone with walls, once she stumbled on a lose stone and got a glimpse inside.  She knows.  She doesn’t always understand, but she knows.

Slight divergence from that line of thought, but its a great moment when they get together and he’s fairly transparently trying to make sure they’re in a committed relationship by dangling other women in front of her, and she’s a little ticked that he seems to be taking it rudely casually.  Probably a bit of insecurity, but I’d say more that she has a long history of not reading him from the perspective of him loving her.  Ie, 100% not recognizing that telling him about sleeping with George would hurt him.  And doesn’t get it until he comes in and he’s dropped the swagger and it’s a “I know I’m doing something wrong and I don’t know how to do it right so help me” thing.  

(Random memories of Sloan/Don from The Newsroom when she’s crying on the floor and Don comes in a sits next to her.  I wuvs them too.)

I love that she openly leans on him, when he offers support she takes it.  She doesn’t ask why, she accepts it and leans into it and is open to it because she trusts him because she knows him.  The bits where she hates him tend to fall out of romantic issues, but when that’s removed from the equation they’re in sync.  And the thing is, just as caring is fundamental to Alex’s nature, trust is fundamental to Izzie’s.  And those two things weave into each other.  Kinda like rats and the food button.  When Alex reaches out Izzie she honestly accepts it, a “reward.”  So he’s comfortable doing it again, and again.  And when she does rebuff him he’s seen rewards come out enough that he doesn’t just scatter.  And when Izzie trusts him, he rewards her with gentleness and care.  She has the rougher time of it overall, because Alex is more screwed up emotionally, and breaks her trust more often than she rebuffs him, but that’s where Alex’s constant love comes in.  But I cannot recall enough critical moments to have a cohesive proof, so I could be a little off base.

In my head Alex has always loved Izzie more than Izzie loves him, but I think my memory was unfair.  There is a real constancy to Izzie’s affection, though I don’t think she imprinted on Alex as he did on her.  She’s a different person, loves differently, has different issues.  But my longstanding impression is mostly because of Denny.  Who she truly did love, though the qualities of that love deserve exploration which I will not at this time attempt. And Denny loved her.   The whole “side loves along the way” being a trope.  Though usually “it ended in death/deathlike state” is given to the man and so THANK YOU SHONDA.  Thinking of classics like Jane Eyre and Rebecca though I think both were actually crazypants first wives.  And I do think female character’s side guys have a  habit of dying, but it tends to feel more like a plot point to shut the door on continued love, whereas Denny remains a part of Izzie’s life. 

 At any rate, despite superficial similarities, Alex doesn’t hit the trope because his crazypants relationship wasn’t ever really about the woman:  yep Alex got Rebecca, and Rebecca was crazypants, and it was a plot point to get him to the crying.  Rebecca wasn’t love. It was never love.  BUT

She DID, in every way, highlight what needed to be highlighted.  1) That he desperately wants a family.  2) that caring for someone, not just about them, is fundamental to him, (and ties neatly into him caring for Izzie all those sitting on the floor conversations.) and c) it’s not entirely healthy.  Which is ALSO why thrusting his new happy relationship with Izzie into caregiver role is insensitive and undermines the relationship because it only makes sense if we got to see them both happy in the relationship first.  And then we can see the quality of his caregiving change.  But we didn’t.  So bugger it.

I do LOVE how they let almost the whole next season play out he fallout of all that.  Something taken slowly!  We got to explore it.  Did feel a bit drawn out tbh.  But it just emphasizes the weight of it, I guess.  Especially as it was a subplot amongst 100 others.  This was their development for the season.  Which was mostly Alex.  But Izzie’s reactions revealed some things about her as well.  Majorly dancing around laying it out for a close look and I don’t know why.

Favourite moment?  Maybe Izzie putting her hand on Alex’s chest when he’s freaking out and telling him to stop, he doesn’t need to say any more.  Because he’s trying to convince her of something, and she understands.  And the trying to convince is shredding him, and she knows that.  It’s a very loving and accepting “stop.”  She’d already taken charge of the situation, for the good of the patient.  She’d already taken charge because she knew Alex couldn’t handle it, he was too deep in something to see clearly.  And she’s still in charge.  She doesn’t break down and cry for him, or try to comfort him, he’s been thrown back into childhood and PTSD might literally be at play and what he needs, and she understands, is someone he can trust, who’s calm and gentle but strong and solid, to say it’s okay.  It’s going to be okay.  You don’t have to carry this on your own.  We have it now.  Because when we’re little and in over our heads what we want and what we need is an adult to take the burden.  And still the physical contact is comforting, her tone of voice reassuring.  She creates a space where he can feel safe and heard.

Ugh, rewatching, and we’re watching him literally devolve.  Stages of grief ya’ll.  He’s using every tactic to try and get what he thinks he needs: being able to take care of Rebecca.  He’s in denial that anything is wrong.  He gets angry when Izzie grabs him, to the point of threatening to hit her (though it’s fighting words and not real threat, and Izzie totally knows that.)  He dives into bargaining.  She’ll be okay if he can take care of her.  He can do it.  He tries to convince her it’s true.

By the time he gets home it’s depression.  Not just Rebecca, but about his mom.  And Izzie approaches him differently.  In the hospital it was immediate and she was “in charge,” and needed to be in all facets, but at home, with the situation taken care of, she’s a friend.  An equal.  Which is what he needs right now.  His sticking point later is the crying, so I kinda wonder how he’d react just to having told her about taking care of his mom as a kid.  Right at the start he told that kid about his dad, (dad beating up his mom and him beating up his dad) while Izzie was within listening distance and didn’t seem fussed.  But it’s ultimately a story about him being manly and protecting his mom physically.  Which would be why it’s several seasons in before this crops up - waaay more intimate information.  Probably all lumped into one, with the crying as shorthand.  And mostly that his past is a fact, it’s his emotions he wants to keep private and deny.

He clearly did try to drown his emotions with sex.  I’m not sure it would have worked with a random girl because he’s way too close to crying to do much of anything.  And obviously doesn’t work with Izzie because sex is apparently emotional intimacy and I guess comfort for men moreso than women, but it plays out as a desperate attempt to get comfort in a safer way.  Bargaining again, I suppose.  “Have sex and will be fine tomorrow.”  But, as noted, he doesn’t get that far because it’s too heavy and he rather quickly is just sobbing.

Which is a lovely parallel to holding Izzie while she cried on him after Denny died.  Though Izzie had no qualms and no massive emotional recoil because emotions and vulnerability are normalized for females Izzie is a particularly emotional person.  And an inverse of all the times Izzie is an emotional wreck and Alex sits down besides her and offers her support and understanding.

Could also argue that Izzie just saying “I’m sorry... About Rebecca.  And your mom” - it’s an emotionally intimate moment.  Of understanding.  She’s acknowledging the two situations, and isn’t trying to do anything about them, explain or push or anything else.  Just make him feel understood and not alone and sex is the way he can respond to that.  How to process that in a way that feels manly to him?  Also notably Izzie does seem to be going with it, and it’s aborted because he starts sobbing.  And is still saying “Please” which is amazing, because he totally was never asking Izzie to just sleep with him.  He wants to make it stop - the pain, emotions, probably reliving memories.  But also... stages of grief.  He needs to feel it, so he can accept it.  He really just needs to cry, and grieve, and not be alone.

And it’s like... this is where their love story feels epic because it would look so different if they didn’t have all the levels and layers of love.  Take out the romantic/sexual aspect.  Take out the friendship.  The trust.  The family.  Take out anything and this can’t play out.

Who didn’t love moments like Alex explaining to Bernedette Peters that men sometimes need to protect their manliness in the eyes of the woman they love.  And they’ll do shit things to protect that manliness, but it’s because they care.  Which is obviously idiotic and while romantic on screen is very much not so in real life, but this is fiction so hey ho.  It’s such a wonderful foil.  Because the situation here was not that Alex took his pain elsewhere to protect Izzie’s opinion, but that Alex completely and for a long time shut Izzie out to protect his manliness, which is entirely counterproductive but the only option he could see.  He minimizes his experience as a “bad night.”  (I mean, if you remove all the adjectives, he’s not wrong.) He’s protecting his own sense of manliness to himself.  He doesn’t like feeling that vulnerable.  He let Izzie get too close.  He’s afraid.  It’s all a tangle.  And it pays off when they come back together and he’s willing to be more vulnerable, almost, and then enthusiastically, happy to be.

*But it does reference when he slept with Olivia when he failed his boards.  So yeah, he’s done it literally too.

Backing up a step to revisit season 5.  And actually they start out close.  They’re all out in the cold waiting to greet patients and Alex grabs a blanket for her.  He’s not irritated that Izzie keeps asking how he’s doing, just obviously in a bit of personal denial.  And they’re totally messing around and lighthearted and look at each other with their heads really close and it begs some questions about the interim, though I guess they just haven’t talked about it deeper than “are you okay.”  And per the Izzie/Meredith convo I guess they didn’t continue having sex (probably didn’t have sex that night either).  Though the way Izzie looks at him as he leaves, she’s totally concerned that he’s not dealing with it.

Ah yes, forgot - so they just kept his breakdown unremarked upon, the superficial checking in is situational because Rebecca is a fact.  They don’t talk about it, it’s fine.  Pretending it did not happen.  But it’s as soon as Alex thinks Izzie told Meredith about it that it goes pear shaped.  It’s funny that his issue is the crying and he’s the one that told Meredith, but thematically Izzie saying “he’s opening up to me” is sorta the same.  Also awww that even as she labels them friends, there’s this little glow inside her that they got closer.  Emotional intimacy, what’s life without it eh?

So also 100% it’s high on Alex’s mind.  That he did it, and so too that Izzie could betray him and tell others.  Their relationship is so beautifully fragile in that short interim.  It’s this little bubble where he’s okay that he was vulnerable with Izzie because she accepted it and isn’t making a big deal about it.  And he does feel super close to her.  But he can’t take anyone else seeing him in a non-manly light.  For himself, and it works in terms of Izzie too if it’s an inside/outside situation.  I’m a bit stuck and going in circles.  If Izzie tells, then Izzie isn’t taking it seriously?  Doesn’t understand him?  I don’t think he’s even angry at her, if he looks weak to others then she’ll come to see him as weak?  Halp, stuck.

Also so, I’ve seen it remarked upon that Izzie tends to forgive Alex when she maybe shouldn’t.  But part of forgiveness can come from understanding the other person.  Doesn’t have to be, especially for little stuff.  But for big stuff?

Oh, and so weird but kinda cool that right after that rather self-aware conversation with Peters, he specifically lets Izzy see him with another woman.  Were those scenes meant to be inverted?  Or is he going into this eyes wide open?  Trying to prove something?  He’s hurting her though, is it intentional?  Because cheating, by nature, is secretive, your person doesn’t know so you’re not hurting them directly, though of course when they find out it blows up.  But the intention to wound is not there, it’s an escape.  Proving that he’s really fine and back to his old self?  They are not sleeping together so this isn’t cheating.

And even after that Izzy just shrugged it off.  Popped in to tell him they maybe are getting kicked out, tries to get an apartment with him.  She’s holding on to their closeness and friendship, despite him being prickly.  And then... he smacks her or whatever they were doing which is back to flirty, and not meaningful but notably guides her out of the elevator before him.  Though her barb about STD did hit him.   Maybe he was trying to figure out how to stop being rude at her, and her continued friendliness was bufffer space until he could?  He does say hello at the end, but who was she talking to about having no one?

It does bring up an interesting insight.  It is true bout not something I thought about, that Izzie could be lonely, and actually does get as much out of their relationship as Alex ever did.  They are incredibly close.  And I think George might be married at this point, and thus no longer her “person”?

And then into the cryptic speak about them, while the father/son organ musical chair thing was happening.  He’s looking over his shoulder at her, glances up, unspoken words yadda yadda.  Follows her out into the hall when she leaves.  The freeze out is shorter than I remember, but look, they kinda always keep communicating because freeze outs do not feel right.  And I’ve moved to a blow by blow but Alex is trying to talk profession, and Izzie doublespeaks the “emotionally stunted” and he physically recoils and stutters like “yeah but no, that’s not what we’re talking about” and yet is now there and talking about them too.  “Okay, ... I”m trying to be-  I am, but this” WHAT is he trying to be/is???  Trying to not be emotionally stunted.  Is emotionally stunted (or doubling down on trying?)

This is just such a beautiful conversation.  Because Izzie IS emotional and caring but she has a mean backhand.  Pettiness, ultimatum, she can smack back as hard as anyone smacks her.  And she’s coming from a totally reasonable place, because he’s going hot and cold on her.  And you can see that it affects him, and that falls out from that same pattern where he’s trying to tell her somehing and she’s not putting in a ton of effort to figure out what he’s saying, but is focused on her own needs and thoughts.  ‘Cuz she’s hearing something like “give it up, you’re not going to get what you want out of me.”  And he’s trying to say “I’m afraid I can’t be what you need, because I svck, please don’t make me try and fail.”

And they’re convo through parallels continues, Izzie calls Alex broken and is like “okay I do it your way my caring for you is pointless and it’s all fine.”   Dad calls for son while kinda dying.  I know they claimed different thought process but didn’t Alex call for Izzie when he was shot?  And the payout from the series of exchanges: Alex is yelling at his standin to just step up and show he cares.  With a hefty does of potential regret.  It’s a 180, hoping that the kid does love his day, as well as getting emotionally invested.  His relationship with his father isn’t mentioned, not sure if it’s meant to play into this, because he has previously acknowledged that he regrets losing his father completely.

(But then 10 seconds later she’s going to go crazy and by avoiding treatment it’s kinda like trying to kill herself and just... poor taste writers, poor taste.)

Cue a moment where Izzie knows what he’s trying to say and rewards it.

Enter Izzie being a little obtuse, I know I covered this but ending my personal cannon with them getting together - Alex literally says “are we going steady.”  He’s literally saying “you tell me yes or no, and I will do that.”  Of course he’s trying to say “I don’t know if you’re serious and I want to be please clarify and reassure” but one of those literal ones should have been enough.  But then Izzie does always push him, not always intentionally, to be a little more direct, a little more vulnerable, trust her a little more.  And the result is sooooo adorable!

And brings to mind when Izzie was trying to ask him out for the first time.  And it went a tiny bit screwy and Alex flips it and asks her out.

There’s just so much awesome.  *sobs*  And there’s probably awesome in the cancer storyline too but I do not feel I can trust it and also it’s going to run full into Izzie being lame and leaving and all character development out the window?  And I DO NOT want to see her trying to come back and Alex saying No.  Because what will I see in the middle that gets them there?  They always say yes.  Eventually.  And season 16 when JC is leaving the show is a bit on the long side, even if I ignore the details of the intervening years.

Throwing everything at the wall and maybe I’ll be done with dumping or can at least refine things.  It’s the little speech I’ve only read and don’t want to hear bcause not sure how he did his line-read, but when he describes how he imagines Izzie’s life.  In how much detail, how much he wants for her, what he knows she’s capable of building.  He’s saying it to Jo and I’m uncomfortable with the idea he loves her, even if the letter to her does leak a “love you, in love with Izzie,” and I’m fine with Izzie loving Denny and don’t find it a problem Jo is still alive because I don’t see Alex going back but the thing where if he looks her in the eye he won’t return to Izzie and the kids is upsetting.  And it’s just the kids and insta-family which is enticing.  I mean, he’s not going to tell wife he’s leaving that he’s always loved his ex in a different way or anything.  But he’s also not lying.  He does mention to Meredith that he can’t go back to Seattle.  He’d stay with Jo then out of...  ?  Halp.  The best I got is he’s currently in a dream and if he goes back to his life, where he was happy, then he’ll lose the dream and it will disappear on him?

Slightly nicer is the elsewhere expressed (Meredith) idea that he’d set Izzie as unreachable.  Thus, in line with what he told Jo, he didn’t want to contact her because he didn’t want to make it worse for himself, and his happiness comparison was completely excluding himself from the possibility of being part of Izzie’s life.  It’s all happiness of them individually, not together.  But yes, he always wanted to reach out, wanted to hear her voice and he never had an excuse?  No excuse but curiousity, and that wasn’t enough to take a chance, but this was an excuse and he took it.  

And the idea that he knows the right thing is to stay in Seattle, and being with Izzie and the kids is crazy, but it’s what makes him happiest, where he belongs.  Meredith’s letter read first, so in that light, he’s overexplaining to Jo.  Also exposition.  References that conversation about his mental picture of Izzie, which I think was in the context of Jo questioning his feelings for Izzie.  It scared him because...  ?  He focuses on the kids.  It’s a little at odds with doing this for him, and a little suddenly ignoring the fact that he’s In Love with Izzie and I guess his mental image for Izzie was also his dream life and he gave it to her.  Though where he thought her kids came from is possibly an oversight.  Adoption?

Because it makes it sound like he’s torn between new and old love but the old love has is kids and wins.  It’s a free pass to perfection.  But he imagined a “whole life” for her, which is a massive investment opf time and emotional energy on someone he hasn’t seen in forever.  I mean thinking well for an ex is al well and good but this sounds a bit beyond that, where she’s not a part of his life but a part of HIS life, believing she’s okay makes everything okay.

I am also willing to take up arms and claim that “I can’t look you in the eye because I wouldt be able to walk away...” doesn’t mean walk away from Jo, but walk away from Izzie.  But that’s kinda tenuous.  It just... it sounds like if he sees Jo he won’t be able to leave her, which puts her above Izzie (and even the kids, though he can still be in their lives) and that contradicts other statements, or at least their implications .

Though fair point that there’s a metric of who you’ll give up everything for.  Izzie would for Denny.  In a sense, I hear Meredith got her back in the Seattle hospital and she declined out of respect for Alex’s feelings.  So in a way she gave up her life for Alex.  And never reached out to him but did respond when he did.  She picked up the phone.  Maybe not knowing who it was, or they all kept their own phones.  And Alex gave it all up for Izzie+kids.  I want to know he’d give it all up for Izzie alone, and the life they could have had.

Or is it that he wouldn’t be able to leave Jo because, as noted to Meredith, it’s the right thing to stay in Seattle.  And he’s become a man who does the right thing.  And sometimes the right thing isn’t what we truly want, and to get that we have to be selfish.  He one perfect thing is in Kansas.  And it’s the family.  It’s a family with Izzie.  And his kids.  It’s the whole package.  If it wasn’t Izzie, the kids wouldn’t be enough?  Also indicates that even with Jo was not exactly where he should be.

I’m also going with “some clues in various directions to satisfy various viewers but really offending most of them because this is all 10 years ago and people are newer viewers or forgot or hated Izzie when she left etc.”  But preponderance of evidence leans in favour of this choosing what makes him happiest over what makes him happy.  

ETA: he has a life for Izzie in his head because if she’s not happy, he can’t leave her where she is.  He sees her as an optimist, the opposite of him and good things happen when you lean in that direction.  He imagines her somewhere woody because that’s where they lived when they were married.

ETA2: Izzie didn’t notice Alex wanted to be exclusive.  Because Izzie sees the good in him, but she doesn’t try to justify or explain things.  She takes him at face value (mostly, she knows superficial crabbiness is just an unpleasant personality trait.)  Until/unless she has very good evidence to he contrary.  And THAT is why he has to take an active role and go to her.  He does have to work for the relationship.

(Briefly skipped to a scene in season 6 (avoiding that season) and he actually says “I can’t be your nurse” which is so much character growth.  Because I was afraid he’d gone full out into caregiver mode, which is not healthy for either of them.  He’s protecting himself, but also pushing her to face up.)

CODAS

Watched Alex calling for/hallucinating Izzie when shot.  Maybe it’s a Miranda thing?  After freaking out right after she died, about how he can’t live without her, his breakup speech was essentially about how he realized he could survive without her.  He doesn’t need her like that.  And he was really hurt by the really shitty thing she did, leaving him. Thus valid conclusion that they should part ways and he’s not caught in the love/hate.  But at some point after that, per hallucination conversation, he really wants her to...  come back for him.  To love him enough to not be able to stay away and come back for him it’s funny because the best way for her to love him was the respect his wishes and not come back.  I mean she doesn’t even say anything after he asks that.  

Interesting point “we married...”  It’s a promise.  He starts with “I’m sorry.”  His breakup speech to her - rehearsed?  He’s speaking from love and hate all blended and I think he’s a lot more honest and self aware, and he’s almost always been honest with Izzie.  So his dying speech was also fear based?  He’s scared, he’s in shock, like, physical shock.  To when is his mind taking him?  It’s natural to have regrets after a painful but necessary breakup.  It’s been months but that’s still recent enough.  So on the whole, inconclusive except yeah, he isn’t over her, but he admits during their breakup that he loves her “so much.”

Also love his “frozen together in time... and now we’re not.”  They’ve both grown and changed, and so has their relationship, but there connection hasn’t.  That hasn’t changed.  

So back to his Izzie speech, which is meaningful intentionally as in 300th episode, where years later he was wondering still about her, enough to create a good life for her.  A happy, rich and full life.  He imagines it clearly and deeply enough to add smell to it.  Smell is heavily linked to memory and emotion.

As happy as he is with Jo.  Maybe it’s contentment?  Something missing for each of them but not something he consciously knows?  Meh.  Back to frozen.  He has an image, a full rich image of her and her life.  It’s immersive but static, a snapshot.  And the him who looks at that snapshot is the same him over time.  

Letter to Meredith.  “It’s about me.”  Which is sorta back to breakup speech.  It was about him, ending the relationship.  He didn’t deserve to be left.  And this is about him, not leaving Izzie+kids.  There’s movement and beauty in this.

Meredith/Alex talking true love.  So I’m torn.  Jo refused his proposal, and the question is if you only get one true love.  Did he think Jo was a true love, and if she refuses him it’s not?  Or is he hoping that true love happens after they’re married?  Given the constancy of his love for Izzie, from fairly early on, even if he didn’t call it that at the time I’m pretty sure it’s indisputedly much earlier than marriage, and she turned him down all the time, which would forestall true love worse, right?  Can’t say as I’m not watching any Jo/Alex, cannot will not no need don’t gotta.

[daehgub-bughead]

I hope I'm not bothering you, so feel free to ignore this, but I yearn to know: if you had full creative control of the show, how would you run season 5? You can pick and choose whatever leaks you want to include.

So it's better late than never. Seriously for don't answer before and make you wait I didn't forget it I just this was more difficult than I expected every time I saw the white page on my computer I didn't felt the inspiration or have the energy to do it but it's 3 am, I can't sleep sooooo

let's started:

*jughead won't be alcoholic *Veronica isn't married *that awful song doesn't exist, that dint happen was just a collective nightmare instead veronica sings "I kissed a girl" to betty bcs I want to. * maybe is unpopular but I'm not excited for the idea of all working on the high school post-time jump give me glee flashbacks and I hate it. * I will ignore all the new interviews, stills, spoilers. I choose delusion. * I use the phrase "rebuild the truth" a lot Even when I hate it I will give more priority to the cheating storyline and the arcs of the characters how this will affect not only their relationship romantic/friendship. I would put a really heart-heart conversation between Jarchie, Beronica, and Barchie; Ba comes clear apologizing bcs they make a mistake and being sincere with JV. Talking about Ba I dig more into their thinking, motivations, and feelings for both, Give to Archie his point of view and give MORE priority to the core 4 trauma and how they deal with it. And then try to figure out how it could move the plot of the mystery like maybe when Jughead finds out about the kiss he tries to distract himself and go more into the mystery as we see before. Archie's having the things clear in the end but Veronica choosing herself first and deciding that break up would be the best even when it would hurt both. I would show a bit of their life's out on Riverdale Just to the end of the episode, there's some reason everybody comes back to the town probably related to the death (I still think that pops will die). Veronica would be a successful businesswoman, she is an icon in New York and dates a beautiful woman called Rebbeca but when veronica decides to come back to RVD they break up, bcs Rebecca wants to take a time to work on herself, and Veronica comebacks to Riverdale to take control again of pops and start to work with Tabitha remodeling pops maybe and maybe try to become it a franchise. I'm not sure what I would do with Archie but the writers either, so I'll keep the firefighter storyline but he would use a shirt all the time bcs I'm tired of seeing KJ on shirtless (at this point is every man of this show) also he will take total control of Fred's construction company. Veronica contracts Fred's company and varied start to spend more and more time together and try to be just friends while finding their way back to each other and obviously angsty, pining, longing maybe a bit more of angsty and Pining Archie fight for V love. I'll give Toni the screentime that she deserves and let her shine for herself I would like that the show makes justice to the choni/Toni storyline this season but I learn don't get my hope up with this show focusing on the Toni family and her backstory more and making her an individual character again. I'll love to see more musicals moments Vannesa and drew singing together, and Toni and fangs being on a band give to me now. I think first I will talk about ba and then about betty. Love triangle: No más eso no sirve. So I will end with that before time jump they will still felt guilty and regretful for hurt JV and lose them. Archie always be the boy that betty dreamed of for too long and Bettys will always have on Archies heart also they don't idealize each other anymore but still, they will love each other but in a different way.I'm not against the show exploring new relationships and least to betty dating someone else I always expected that the writers will explore ba at some point, I just expected something different, so I'm not against ba dating post time jump for any reason that the writers could think but the thing I would do its ba talking about their feelings for one another, discussing how to live could've been if he never rejected her (not so much bcs Jason was already death, anyways) make a what-if episode/ or an Au episode where Archie don't reject betty but ultimately in that episode it is shown that they are better off as friends & that the road not taken still would lead to bugvarchie.

One thing that I love about the s1 is that in a way or another everybody was involved in the mystery the core 6 with Toni and the serpents could be a good way to get information. One of the points of the season will be the redemption and the rebuild of the seasons so I will go to a semi-slow-burn with the friendships of the shows, I never feel what I supposed to feel for Jarchie but one of the things that I love about some fics saw the rebuild of beronica friendship so I would put so much effort on that and put more moments when we could appreciate the friendship of the core 4 to make it feel more genuine.  Veronica will forgive Betty when seeing how much betty misses her and try to fix the things between them.

As a lot of people do I think that bughead won't break up pre-time jump, Jughead will forgive betty and they will try a long-distance relationship I would like to say that they will leave the cheating behind we would see them being happy and walking to the sunset and live happily ever after but a cheating storyline for them breaking up for the distance doesn't feel good to me so the cheating will affect their relationship and they will try to get over it but it will be a little factor+ the distance and all the responsibilities that have on the university combined make them realize that the timing isn't right, time apart for growing individually, met other people, so they talk about and decide that break up is the best and have a friendly break up.

I think that betty would meet a lot of people some serious relationships other not so serious she will meet some idiots sadly wemet some idiots (that she later will tell veronica and they would laugh together about the looser that stood up Betty and didn't see her on that beautiful readdress) and some really nice guys, Charmings that will care about her and he will want her but sadly the things won't work out. Betty being an FBI agent I'm in, betty being a full badass I'm in, her struggling to follow the rules of the FBI I'm in that's the betty that we love. I have not problems with our favs having difficult times I would keep him having writers' block but not one hit writer I will go to him having problems to find the inspiration to write the end of the story that he starts a long time ago. And for Jessica even when I would like to see jealous betty it seems that every relationship at the beginning of the time jump its borrow time and that's unfair for her so they will be together like 2 or 3 eps max, I think Jughead will love her but on a different way that he loves betty and their relationship seems that isn't on a good moment since the beginning so betty being again on jughead life will be just little factor on their relationship I would put betty investigating the disappearance of Polly and jughead with the Mothman they investigating in different paths until the next episode to see that their investigation is related and start to work together. I'm here to see bughead being single for a time, see their relationships as friends then I will go to the undercover/fake dating/kissing for a cover route I will go for angst, the pining, jealousy, Longing looks, and denial of their feelings and there would be conflict both being scare pf their feelings, let the walls that the build after years being apart down until they can hide the fact that never stop loving to each other. Also, I add this of last moment while we explore bughead future I would show more about bughead backstory, go more into their friendship and pre-pilot relationship, they reading together young Jughead pining for young betty I'm a sucker for that.

[softest-cinnamon-roll]

So I’m at my cousins wedding reception rn and the two grooms men I’ve known my entire life right? They keep touching each other and I asked them how long they’ve been together (I haven’t seen them in years) and they go “oh we’re not...” and all I can think about reddie meeting for the first time as groomsmen and then immediately hitting it off and falling for each other. Amy pls.... I’m begging you to write something

When Stan had asked him to be his best man at his wedding, Richie couldn’t say yes fast enough. He had grown up with Stan, he was his best friend through and through, so there was no way he wasn’t going to say no to being the best man at his damn wedding.

MIke was a great guy and Stan deserved him more than anyone. He was funny, smart, rather gorgeous and was incredibly soft hearted and friendly. When he had asked Stan to marry him, Richie was the first person Stan had told, calling him excited down the phone as he ran over all the ideas he had for the ceremony.

In the end, they settled for a simple wedding on Mike’s family farm in Derry, Maine. Richie had taken a long weekend off work and drove up to the state, checking in to the Derry Town House that was completely booked out for the event. Richie had to snort a little, as he knew all about Derry, and it was a small minded town. The people must be having a field day knowing two men were getting married here.

Once Richie had dumped all of his bags into the room and jumped into a quick shower, he changed into something much more comfortable and headed down to the main reception, ready to meet up with Stan and Mike for pre-wedding instructions. What he got instead was the sight of the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes on.

The man was a few feet shorter than him, with soft blond curls and an annoyed expression on his face as he tapped his foot and looked over the reception desk. That was when Richie shot out of his trance and realised what he was waiting for…assistance.

“Uh, good luck with that. Whoever works here seems to be pretty absent,” Richie spoke up and the man turned his whole body to his direction, making Richie groan internally at how gorgeous he was from the front too. “You kind of have to…check yourself in.”

Raising his eyebrows, the man looked back behind the desk and let out an audible sigh, “You mean I just need to grab a set of keys and hope for the best?” He asked and Richie nodded his head. “This is so unsafe…but I’ve been waiting here for over thirty minutes now and I really don’t have the patience to wait any longer.”

Richie watched at the hot guy moved around behind the desk and looked for a set of keys that would allow him access to a room for one. He grinned and picked a pair, holding them up in triumph as he stepped back out and made his way over to Richie. “See, all sorted now.” He paused. “Are you here for the wedding?”

“Yeah uh, Mike is a close family friend so I’ve forced myself to come back to this hell hole because it was what he wanted.” The guys shrugged and that was when Richie realised who he was. This was Mike’s best friend, and best man, Eddie Kaspbrak.

Damn, Eddie Kaspbrak was hot as fuck and Richie was internally cursing Mike for not introducing them sooner. He grinned. “Eddie Kaspbrak, right? If you’re from Derry why didn’t you know about the shitty service here?”

Eddie blinked, “Because the last time I was in this town, I was living with my mother. I’ve never stepped into this place in my life.” He looked at Richie up and down and Richie, once again, had to hold back a groan. “Wait…are you Richie? Stan’s best man?”

Richie broke into a wide grin and he nodded his head, holding out his hand, “The one and only. Richie Tozier, at your service.” His smile widened even more as Eddie took his hand and he subconsciously raised his hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. “Nice to finally meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Richie. I’ve heard…a lot about you.” Eddie laughed looking away a little as he removed his hand from Richie’s grasp. “Stan might have filled me in on your…eccentricness?”

This time, Richie groaned out loud and ran a hand through his hair, “Of course he would. He was probably trying to save you from my shit, as I really am full of it. I also have ADHD, so sometimes I struggle grasping when people want me to shut up. So they just say ‘beep beep, Richie’. So if I bug you, that’s what you say.” A nervous laugh left Richie’s lips at that point and he wondered why he was suddenly so…shy. Normally if Richie was attracted to someone he’d use the Tozier charm until they agreed to come back to bed with him. Yet with Eddie…after only knowing him for about ten minutes…Richie knew he was different.

“Thanks but…I don’t think I’ll have to use it on you.” Eddie winked and Richie’s eyes widened. “Are you meeting Mike and Stan for lunch? I have to just shower really quick, would you mind waiting for me and we can go together?” He asked and Richie nodded his head.

In a flash, Eddie was off up the stairs and Richie was left alone in the reception, wondering what the hell just happened. He moved into the lounge area and took a seat, flicking through his twitter on his phone, updating his status. Eddie was gone for about half an hour, and in that time he had to tell three more guests to just help themselves to room keys or they’d be there all night. Eventually, Eddie appeared back in the doorway, in a new set of clothes, blond hair damp on his head. Fuck.

“Hey, you’re back,” Richie grinned, standing up and pocketing his phone. “Stan just messaged me the diner details and it’s within walking distance so we don’t have to call a cab.” Eddie seemed to agree with Richie and they left the town house, walking down the street to where they’d meet up with Mike and Stan. “So, you grew up here?”

Eddie looked over at Richie as they walked and nodded his head, “Yeah, born here and remained until I was…nineteen and I finally managed to escape. It’s been eight years and this place still puts me on edge. I’m surprised that my mother isn’t out patrolling the streets looking for me as I’m sure she knows I’m here.” He admitted.

“I’m sorry,” Richie whispered, not really wanting to pry into Eddie’s personal life too much. If Eddie wanted to tell him, then he would. “If we see your mom, just let me know and I’ll talk that much she’ll run away.”

Next to him, Eddie paused and bit his lip, looking up at Richie. “Actually…I wanted to ask you something.” Richie tilted his head, letting Eddie know that he was listening. “We both don’t have dates…right?” A nod. “So uh, maybe if we see my mom or anyone else who might know me would you…pretend to be my boyfriend?”

Even though Richie knew it was a stupid idea and that he was probably going to get really hurt, he felt himself nodding his head. “Yes, of course Eddie. It would be my pleasure.”

* * * * *

@richietoaster @tozier-boy @eds-trashmouth @bitchbrak @sloppybitchreddie @its-stranger-than-you-think @maximusfraker @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @thejadeazalea @halfway-happy353 @tinyarmedtrex @inthebreadbinwrites @kat-ships-everything @takeourpure @lo-v-ers @that-weird-girls-blog @studpuffin @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @trashmouthtozierr @richietoizer @girasol-eddie @bi-bi-richie @honeybeehanlon @mars-14 @reddiesetandgo @marsisaplanetyall @xandertheundead @sedanleystanley @hawkinsbabe @beepbeeprichiellc @stellarbisexual @oldguybones @stanleuyris @eduardoandale  @purplepoisonedgem @reddie-to-cryy @pink-psychic @violetreddie @toziesque @queen-sock @appojoos @moonlightrichie @rreddies @disneyfan567 @annxmatron @lifesucksheres20bucks @anellope @roobarrtrashmouth @are-you-reddie-for-it @callmechee @nancynwheeler @reddieforlove @twoidiotsinl0ve @madi-artist @tozierking @s-onora @atownofeggs  @wilding-throught-thehallways @no-she-wasnt-reddie @dadbodrichie @thorn-harvester-ven @eddiekasbpark @sparklingrainbowdragon @ransonelovebot @gloire-celeste @derrylosers @3tothe1 @virgo-luthie @sashadrowned @spirited-marvel @losers-gotta-stick-together @rebecca-the-queen @ultrapaninibred

[halcyonmusings]

Background + Mara; Relationships Arden + Sawyer

Where were they born? What was their childhood like?

Mara was born in Seattle, Washington, but moved to Julian’s hometown Wayhaven when she was five. She considers Wayhaven her birthplace more than Seattle. She had a decent childhood, no complaints. She knew Rebecca would be gone most of the time but she didn’t take it personally. She’d still greet her mom with excitement every time. When Julian died, her absence didn’t help things and Mara dealt with depression when she was ten, so things were a little rough during that time for her. 

What’s their family like?

Her dad liked to laugh a lot and remembers that he always made Rebecca laugh. He gave really nice hugs, and would read bedtime stories to her every single night. she can’t recall the stories though. 

What factions or organizations are they a part of? What ranks and titles do they hold?

She’s the detective at the Wayhaven police department and human liaison with the Agency. 

How do they fit into their “story”?

She’s the MC, so,.. yeah 

Where do they currently live? What’s their place like?

She still lives in Wayhaven. Her apartment is cozy, modernized. She has a lot of trinkets on display, things she thought were interesting when she was younger. She has family pictures in her living room, art decorations. 

How do they eventually die?

we just don’t know!! we’ll see how it goes i guess 

RELATIONSHIPS

Do they have any friends? Would they consider anyone to be their best friend?

Arden: she’s naturally a friendly person, she makes friends with almost everyone she meets in Redgrave. Dante is her best friend though.

Sawyer: yes!! he’s friendly when he wants to be. he’s got a lot of bffs :)

What’s their friend group like? What role do they play in it?

Arden: Her friends consist of Dante (obviously), Lady, Trish, and Lucia. She’s the mother hen lmao. She checks up on everyone when she can, buys Dante food when he whines, makes sure Lady and Trish settle their arguments. 

Sawyer: his bffs are @queennymeria‘s oc Ginger, @jennystahl‘s oc Florence, and @jmcolt‘s oc Lola! i’d say he’s the joker of the group, he likes to make the girls laugh, make them feel at ease, also will step up to anyone who’s bothering them or making them uncomfortable. 

What’s their love life like? (See also: ship question meme.) Do they have any kids?

Arden: She had a thing with Vergil :/ he ended up leaving her to go summon the temen-ni-gru while she was pregnant with nero (unbeknownst to him) and that was the last time she sees him until the events of 5 happen and he reunites with her and they officially get together and eventually marry :) they do eventually have another child, freya 

Sawyer: he had an ex gf who he moved to LA with. they broke up not long after. he meets roy and starts a complicated thing with him. it’s tumultuous, but sawyer can’t help himself. they do stop seeing each other when roy gets more corrupted in vice and being involved in shady business. 

Who do they look up to? Who do they trust?

Arden: dante. she admires his strength and how he fully embraces his human side. she trusts dante, vergil (i have to laugh), nero, lady, trish, lucia

Sawyer: cole. he likes how good natured he is, even among the dirty cops he doesn’t let it deter him from doing his job. he trusts cole, the rat pack, stefan, herschel

Who do they hate? Do they have any enemies?

Arden: her mother, just for the whole keeping her locked up and torturing her. as for enemies, just the demons she hunts with dante and the others. 

Sawyer: i can’t think of anyone who he really hates... but uhh he’s got a lot enemies because of the stories he publishes on the newspapers 

Do they have any pets?

Arden: do v’s familiars count.. other than that.. no :( 

Sawyer: no 

Are they good with kids? Animals?

Arden: she loves kids and animals! she waves to any child she sees when she’s walking the streets, or gives them candy. v’s familiars love her and treat her very kindly :)

Sawyer: he likes kids and will play with them if given the chance. he’ll even pretend to cover a story with kids and make up stories for them. he’s not a fan of animals but he’ll pet them if they’re friendly

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

Remnants, Part X

Closing Note: Well, kids. Saddle up because this monster has a word count of over 12k. I want to thank you for taking this journey with me, and I hope you have enjoyed reading this version of Ahkmenrah as much as I’ve enjoyed writing him.

Part I,  Part II,  Part III,  Part IV,  Part V,  Part VI,  Part VII,  Part VIII,  Part IX

Story Summary: You are in the midst of formulating your dissertation, but you’ve hit a wall. Your doting aunt, Rebecca, has a solution that brings you face to face with Ahkmenrah, Fourth King of the Fourth King. As the connection between you and Ahkmenrah grows, and as the secrets of his ancient tablet unlock, the once-king will find himself faced with a difficult choice.

Tag List: @kitkatcronch  @kpopperotp12  @seafrost-fangirl  @sassystrawberryk  @perfect-rami  @txmel   @limabein    @rami-malek-trash   @underworldsheiress and  @sherlollydramoine 

Thank you for reading, liking, reblogging, and leaving comments that kept me motivated!

Warnings: Little bit of swearing

Reading Note: 20--* = Borrowing from the writers of old, I left the exact year blank to let the story feel a little more timeless.   

Larry was en route to the British Natural History Museum where you were waiting to meet him in Merenkahre’s and Shepseheret’s exhibit. According to the American museum, Ahkmenrah and his tablet would arrive the following day.

 It took a bit of convincing to get them to ship Ahkmenrah early, but you insisted you only needed the sarcophagus and the tablet. The rest of his display could be shipped later at the arranged date. Larry explained to Ahkmenrah that there were experts at the British museum who could help with his tablet. Considering the relationship Ahk had with Jack, he readily agreed to return to England.

To pass the time while you waited for Larry, you fussed about, dusting even though the exhibits were spotless, and adjusting artifacts, some real and some recreated from your trips into Ahkmenrah’s memories.

 Another thing you did to prepare for the awakening of Ahkmenrah’s parents was to write a letter in ancient Egyptian that would clarify what had just happened to them. Although your ability to speak their language was improving, it was nowhere near fluent enough to explain the urgency of Ahkmenrah’s situation.  

 The vibration of your phone pulled you away from your unnecessary tidying. Larry texted to say he was in the lobby; you had left specific instructions with the night guard, Tilly, to let Larry in, no matter what time he arrived.

 Rather than wait on the elevator, you took the stairs two by two, both excited to see Larry and nervous to hear more about Ahk. When you entered the lobby just a little out of breath, Tilly and Larry were deep in conversation about their respective flashlights. You laughed aloud at the fact that Larry had brought his along.

 Your laughter caused them to look up and Larry opened his arms to wrap you in a strong hug.

 “I missed you, kiddo.”

 “Me too, Lar,” you said, returning his smile. “Thanks, Tilly. We’ll be sure to let you know when we leave.”  

 You took the elevator up to Ahkmenrah’s parents’ exhibit.

 When you entered the Egyptian wing, Larry let out a low whistle of appreciation as he took in each exhibit, including Ahkmenrah’s future room.

 “Wow! This makes me feel bad all Ahk has in America is a dark room with a couple of hieroglyph walls and two giant guard dogs. This will be a real step up!”

 “How is he?”

 Larry shifted his gaze away from the fountain taps of the bath, and you could see the worry lines that had settled on his forehead.

 “He’s getting worse. As of two nights ago, the tablet was visibly corroded.”

 “How could this have happened? It’s existed in perfect condition for 4,000 years—over 4,000. It’s made of solid gold for Christ’s sake!”

 “No one has any idea, least of all Ahk. He’s . . . angry, irritable. Not like himself at all.”

 You frowned and looked at the ground, unwilling to meet Larry’s eye.

 “Don’t, Y/N. It’s got nothing to do with you.”

 “Maybe it does, though. Maybe I did something to it the last night we used it. This could be all my fault,” you said, crossing your arms and looking over Larry’s shoulder at the doorway that connected to Shepseheret’s exhibit, the peace of her garden a slap in the face to your churning guilt.

 “What last night? What are you talking about?”

 “The last thing Ahkmenrah asked of me was to return with him to the night he died. We saw him murdered by his brother. It was . . . I don’t even have a word. Worse than horrible. Ahk was in shock, so I had to use the tablet to escape his memory. Maybe my use of it did something.”

 Larry was quiet for a bit while he worked through what you said.

 “That was, what? Over a year and a half ago?”

 You nodded.

 “The tablet was fine until just a month ago. Besides, Rebecca’s used it. I’ve used it. Even Nick’s used it.”

 You raised your eyebrows and asked, “Exactly what’s been going on at the museum, Larry?”

 Larry laughed nervously, a slight blush coloring his cheeks as he ran his hand through his dark hair.

 “You know this gig isn’t easy. Sometimes, the exhibits get a bit restless, things get out of hand, elephants end up in Central Park, Custer recreates his last stand in Rockefeller Center, you know, typical museum shenanigans,” Larry finished, his foot tapping a nervous staccato on the floor as he hands settled on his hips.

 You stared, slowly processing the strain of being a night guard in a museum where the exhibits come to life, a strain Larry had certainly done his best to keep hidden for the past few years.  

 “If you can handle all of that, Lar, you’re going to make an excellent teacher.”

 Larry smiled that cute, crooked smile of his.

 “Thanks. I sure hope so, but I have to admit I’m glad I don’t have to handle this one on my own. If something happens to Ahk—”

 “It won’t,” you stated with a finality that hid your desperation.  

 Larry nodded, encouraged by your strong statement.

 “Letting you go . . . it wasn’t easy for him, Y/N. I hope you know that.”

 “I do. Doesn’t mean I like it any better now than I did then, but what is a girl in love to do?”

 “Find his mummified parents, painstakingly rebuild pieces of their lives, and arrange an it’s been a long time, oh, say 4,000 years comin’ reunion?”

 You laughed, at first, and then fell into Larry’s arms as the tears came. You gripped the front of his coat, and felt like an idiot, laughing and crying, but it also felt damn good to say aloud that you were still in love with Ahkmenrah.

 Larry smoothed your hair and kept muttering that it was okay until you composed yourself.

 Embarrassed by your spontaneous overflow of emotion, you stepped back and wiped away your tears, sniffing loudly before declaring, “I’m fine—really I am. I just had this all planned out, you know. Things were going according to plan and I needed that. Really, really needed that focus to keep me from thinking about him—about us.”

 Larry smiled and shook his head. “Love’s like that. It enjoys laughing in the face of your carefully laid plans even more than god himself does.”

 You narrowed your eyes, something deep in your mind struggling to make a connection.

 “Love. That tablet—it was birthed from an act of pure love. It only makes sense that love will be able to restore it . . . or at least lead us to the right answer.”

 On your way out of the exhibit, you stopped at Merenkahre’s coffin and laid your hand on top of it.

 “Please help the son you loved so much,” you whispered.

 * * * * *

 The following cold, February afternoon, you and Larry met the delivery truck that housed Ahkmenrah and his tablet. You couldn’t help but to just stare as they unloaded the pine crate, a seemingly ordinary box that you knew contained the extraordinary. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You had no idea if it was just your imagination, but you thought you could feel his presence.

 “Miss?”

 “Hmm?” you answered as the deliverers scuttled back into the truck, their breath visible as they aligned two more similar, large crates with the tines of the forklift. “I’m sorry—what was it you asked?”

 “I need a signature from the director of the museum or from the curator.”

 You shook your head, took the proffered clipboard, and promised the man you’d be right back.

 The British museum’s director was a woman by the name of Anastasia Waterhouse; she had been the director for the last twenty years and was damn near old enough to be an exhibit in the museum herself. She held more than one PhD and was one of the most knowledgeable people you had ever met. Dr. Waterhouse was also damn good at her job. She was the one who had negotiated for Merenkahre’s family’s exhibit, promising to relinquish the rights to all three mummies to Cairo once the exhibit spent a suitable time at the British museum.  

 She also hadn’t fussed when you exploded into her office, begging to bring the Ahkmenrah exhibit over immediately. You explained that something had happened to the tablet and the restorers in the British museum had far more experience with Egyptian relics than the Americans, so it was only logical that Ahkmenrah was brought here now so your entire life wasn’t ruined by being unable to display the famed Tablet of Ahkmenrah.

 In typical Dr. Waterhouse fashion, she needed only to raise her weathered hand and your babbling came to an immediate cease. She told you exactly what needed to be done and that was that.

 Rather than blow the old wooden door off the hinges again, this time, you politely told Dr. Waterhouse’s secretary you needed a signature and waited for her to clear you to go into the office.

 After Dr. Waterhouse signed the delivery slip, she said she would head down to the storage area as she was most excited to see the famed tablet in person, not to mention Ahkmenrah’s ornate sarcophagus.

 You rushed back to return the slip to the delivery man, and as soon as the back door on the truck was latched, Larry started a bumbling speech that included wild gesticulations in an attempt to bring your attention to the other two crates.

 “No. No way—you mean to say those are not Ahk’s?”

 Larry shook his head.

 Fuck—you grabbed one of the crow bars that was hanging with the other tools on the pegboard and started prying open the crate closest to the loading bay. Sure enough, it was Teddy on his horse along with Atilla. You were certain that a little cowboy and his Roman friend were also buried in the packing straw.

 “I’m not even going to attempt to open the other crate. The museum director is going to be here any minute to see Ahk’s crate. You have to stall her while I grab the forklift and hide these other two crates.”

 “Wait—which one is Ahk’s crate?”

 “Shit—open them and find out,” you said as you handed Larry the crowbar and hurried off in the direction of the forklift.

 “Wait! What am I supposed to say? I don’t even know what she looks like! I’m not even British!”

 “Can you drive a forklift?” you shouted over your shoulder as you jogged toward the ramp.

 “Damnit,” Larry muttered before shoving the crowbar into the second crate.  

 You ran down the ramp of the loading dock to where one of the deliverers had parked the museum’s forklift. It was wedged into a corner, but its bright aqua coloring made it easy to see straightaway.

 The keys were almost always left in the machine because the storage area was one of the most secure sites in the museum. But of course, today, the key was nowhere to be found—the deliverers must have returned it to the office. You slammed your hands against the wheel in frustration and climbed back out, your feet thudding on the concrete. You ran back up the loading dock and into the small office that housed more tools, delivery paperwork, and an ancient computer that checked artifacts in and out.

 Hanging on the wall along with several other sets of keys was the forklift key—or at least what you hoped was the right key. You glanced at the logo etched into the key and it said “MITSUB.” As far as you knew, nothing else around the loading dock was of the Mitsubishi brand.

 You ran back to the forklift and shoved the key in the ignition, uttering a nervous, crazy little laugh when the ignition sputtered before kicking on. You revved the engine and quickly backed out of the corner, silently thanking your own tenacity for always wanting to do things yourself. When you worked all hours of the night, you needed to know how to do every job in the museum.

 As you approached the crates, Larry shouted and pointed to the box furthest from the dock: “This is Ahk!”

 You gave him a thumb’s up and then furiously waved him in the direction of the door.

 “Distract her!”

 Larry took off as you maneuvered the forklift to quickly pick up the first box and scoot it back into the dark corner of the first aisle. The storage room was a massive maze of towering steel aisles that held thousands of artifacts of all shapes and sizes.

 You almost did something really stupid by placing the second, unopened box on top of the other before you realized the panic that would ensue when the exhibits came to life. Instead, you backed out of the first aisle and dropped the box off at the back of the second aisle.

 Just as you were driving back to head down the ramp, Larry and Dr. Waterhouse entered the loading bay, Larry cackling like a madman and talking her ear off.

 You wheeled around and slid the prongs of the forklift under Ahk’s crate. You cut the engine, then jumped out to greet Dr. Waterhouse.

 “Mr. Daley. For the last time, this is MY museum. I do not need a lecture about the proper care of any of its antiquities! I also have no interest in purchasing in American-made flashlight. The flashlights we have here are more than suitable.”

 “I apologize, Dr. Waterhouse. This is my uncle-to-be, Larry Daley. He’s been working with Ahkmenrah for the past few years and feels rather attached to him. He also, clearly, believes in the versatility of well-made flashlights,” you finished lamely as you shot Larry a “what-the-fuck” look.

 Dr. Waterhouse softened; first, she understood what it was like to get attached to a piece of history. Second, she was delighted to meet a familial relation, considering you were rather reserved about your personal life.

 “Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Daley. Perhaps you should have opened by explaining your relationship to one of the best anthropologists with whom I have had the pleasure to work.”

 “That would have been . . . better,” Larry agreed, grimacing a bit.

 “I was just getting ready to take Ahk’s—Ahkmenrah’s sarcophagus into the transition room. Better lightening there, of course.”

 “Most excellent—carry on. I cannot wait to behold the famed tablet with my own eyes!”

 Dr. Waterhouse walked off in the direction of the transition room, stopping to press the button that opened the garage-style door so the forklift could drop off the crate.

 “She wasn’t exactly impressed with me, but I see the other crates are gone.”

 “She doesn’t impress easily. And yeah, by an actual millisecond. The bloody key wasn’t in the machine!”

 Larry chuckled as he said in a horrible British accent, “Righty-oh, miss. I see you’re pickin’ up on the language of the land, ya!”

 You blinked several times before sighing, “That was about five accents rolled into one, so I don’t wanna hear it. Come on—make sure Ahk’s crate is secure before I move it into the transition room.”

 You climbed back into the forklift and cautiously loaded the crate. Larry checked that it was securely tucked up against the back of the forks and you lifted it a few inches. Maneuvering into the transition room could be a bit tricky, so you drove slowly.

 Dr. Waterhouse was waiting inside with a crow bar, still unafraid to get her hands dirty. One of the most exciting things about being a museum director was having the first access to new acquirements.

 You set Ahkmenrah’s crate down on the marked patch of concrete and backed the forklift out of the smaller room. You parked at the end of one of the closest aisles and jogged back into the transition room.

 The transition room looked like an operating room for antiquities. Tools lined the walls as did work benches that accommodated magnifying glasses of all sizes, microscopes, and other sensitive equipment used to run tests. Around the middle of the floor were some lamps that could be swung this way or that to capture the object on the floor in the best light. In this room, the curator worked with his team to get the antiquities ready for display, conducting as much restoration and preservation as was necessary.

 “James will be delighted,” Dr. Waterhouse said quietly as she eyed the crate, clearly eager to see the sarcophagus and the tablet.

 “James is our head curator,” you explained to Larry. “That’s actually what my aunt does now at the museum in New York.”

 “Lovely,” Dr. Waterhouse whispered, more to the crate than as an acknowledgement to your comment. “Shall we?”

 Dr. Waterhouse didn’t wait for a reply before she popped out the first nail of the crate. You thanked whatever cosmic power that existed she started at the end that had not already been pried open. She worked slowly, and you and Larry watched with bated breath.

 When she was finished, she set the crowbar on a bench and stepped back to allow you and Larry to lift off the crate’s lid. The gold from Ahk’s coffin was blinding as it reflected all the lights in the center of the room. You pivoted some of them to an angle as Dr. Waterhouse ran her gnarled fingers over the face etched into the gold, then slide her hand down to touch some of the jewels that adorned the sides of the sarcophagus.  

 “Beautiful. Absolutely breathtaking,” she said.

 Same, you thought, thinking of Ahkmenrah’s actual face.

 Dr. Waterhouse moved around the crate and reached in to pull out the Tablet of Ahkmenrah. The gold of it was also blinding under the lights, but along the bottom, you could see the greyish hue of corrosion.

 “You were correct, Y/N. The tablet is in dire need of restoration. I’ve never seen anything like this on pure gold, unless, perhaps this is not?”

 “James can run some tests, but I am positive that it is, and that it is the real tablet,” you said, attempting to placate Dr. Waterhouse.

 She nodded, and placed the tablet on the work table. “Shall we see what’s inside the sarcophagus?”

 “No!” you and Larry both yelled, surprising Dr. Waterhouse so much that she took a step back.

 “Goodness! What has gotten into you, Y/N?”

 You felt the cold fingers of panic creep across your chest and squeeze as your mind raced for a suitable answer.

 “The curse!” Larry yelled from beside you, startling both you and Dr. Waterhouse this time.

 Oh, fuck me, you inwardly groaned.

 Dr. Waterhouse’s eyebrows shot straight into her hairline before her mouth turned downward, irritation practically leaking from the corners.

 “Americans and their superstitions,” you said, giggling nervously, searching for a way to prevent Dr. Waterhouse from prying inside the coffin. “The American museum just completed a full photographic report on the mummy, right Lar?”

 “Report? Ah, yes! Yes, I know they did. Took the pictures myself,” he muttered.

Dr. Waterhouse looked offended. “A night-guard photographed a 4,000-year-old, precious artifact?”

 “Larry just has a real attachment to Ahkmenrah,” you said as you moved next to Dr. Waterhouse and whispered, “They really just humor him.”

 Dr. Waterhouse continued to frown, but nodded. “If the American museum was really just in there poking about, we shouldn’t disturb the mummy again for a suitable period of time.”

 “Right! And our clear concern is the tablet,” you said while walking over to the work table and hoping that Dr. Waterhouse’s attention would be diverted.

 “Indeed! I’ve never seen anything like this, except, well, let me think—” and Dr. Waterhouse began recounting an experience with a gold statue brought to the museum from the Mayan Temple of Tikal.

 You shot a glance at Larry that conveyed your relief as she took the bait, but a quick glance at your phone let you know it was getting late. It was after 4:00, and in mid-February, sunset was around 5:00.

 “So, in the end, the makers of the statue proved to be clever by housing the true statue within a false statue. It protected it for centuries,” Dr. Waterhouse concluded.

 “That’s fascinating—I can’t wait to see what James discovers when he examines the tablet,” you said as Dr. Waterhouse agreed.

 You made a bit of a production of pulling out your phone and checking the time.

 “4:18—wow! Time has just flown by this afternoon.”

 “My! It has—I need to call the American museum to let them know we received Ahkmenrah and his tablet. I would also like to request a copy of that report.”

 You walked over to the interior door of the transition room and held it open for Dr. Waterhouse to exit. You clicked off the lights and as the three of you exited the storage room, Dr. Waterhouse pulled out her keys and locked the door; she also unclicked her radio from her hip and walkied for the head of security to make sure the loading dock and the storage area were all properly secured.

 Larry’s face flickered with worry, but you shook your head and patted your jacket’s packet. You had already been entrusted with a key to the storage room.

 After saying good-night to Dr. Waterhouse, you and Larry walked back to the lobby.

“Soooo what’s the plan?” Larry asked.

 “You’ve got to get back to Ahk,” you said, handing Larry your key to the storage room. “I don’t want him waking up alone and in the dark, especially since he’s been sick. Just keep the lights off as long as you can—actually, put that damn flashlight of yours to good use!”

 “Got it,” Larry said while patting over the pocket of his jacket that held his flashlight. “Then, I’ll bring him to you in his parents’ exhibit.”

 “Yup. I’ve written a letter explaining what’s happening. There’s no way they are going to wake up speaking English. The real question is what the hell we are going to do about our stowaways.”

 “I can’t believe they figured out how to ship themselves here,” Larry said, settling his hands on his hips after sliding the key to the storage room in his pants’ pocket.

 “I’m sure they just want to help Ahk, but perhaps we just ‘forget’ they are here for the time being. Maybe they won’t even make it out of the storage room?”

 “Y/N, they managed to ship themselves here from New York. We aren’t going to trick them by leaving them alone in a dark room.”

 You sighed in frustration.

 “Focus on Ahk’s parents. Leave the rest of the guys to me.”

 “Thank you—shit, it’s late! Dr. Waterhouse leaves at 6:30 every day after security finishes its sweep. I’m sealing off the Egyptian wing to work, so they won’t walk in on Meren and Shep when they wake up. If you stay inside the transition room with Ahk until 6:30, you’ll be fine.”

 “Got it,” Larry said with a firm nod. “I’ll see you soon.”

 “Yes,” you said slowly, your stomach fluttering at the thought of seeing Ahkmenrah in less than two hours.

 As you and Larry headed in your separate directions, you once again found yourself asking the cosmos to help you get this right—to help Merenkahre and Shepseheret wake up without losing their minds.

 Armed with your letter, you sat in the tiny hallway between the two exhibits and waited for the sun to set. You took off your jacket and used it to cushion your seat on the floor.

 As you were reading over your letter for the tenth time, the rattling of the sarcophaguses caused you to shoot up from the floor; unfortunately, your foot had fallen asleep and you fell face forward, just barely catching yourself with your hands.

 “Fuck me!”

 You shook it off and hobbled your way to Merenkahre’s coffin first; as you lifted the lid, up popped a very dusty mummy. His wrappings were badly decayed, so you figured he could fuss with them himself and you ran over to Shepseheret’s coffin. She had flung her lid aside and was already unwrapping her bandages. You could just see her eyes as you approached and she froze, clearly frightened. You relied on your knowledge of their culture, and bent at the knee, splaying your arms to show you meant only respect.

 She spoke, but you were unsure what she said as it was still muffled by her bandages.

Merenkahre had made fast work of his own wrappings and came, dressed in his regal splendor through the opening between their exhibits, stumbling when he realized who had spoken.

 Shepseheret began crying as she struggled with her bandages. You stood up and helped her, then helped her out of the coffin.

 She looked equally as stunning as her husband, her full regalia much more ornate than anything you had ever seen. She was buried with the highest honors, and you wondered what exactly happened after Ahkmenrah was killed. Surely, Kahmunrah wouldn’t have allowed Meren and Shep to be buried in such ornate clothes because they were a dead giveaway of their identity.

 You pushed your questions aside, knowing you had no way to ask them anyway, and watched as Merenkahre gathered his wife into his arms. They cried and hugged each other, whispering in ancient Egyptian. It pained you to break up their reunion, but their son needed them.

 “Ahkmenrah,” you stated, hoping to get their attention.

 They both turned and looked at you, Shepseheret’s blue-green eyes, the exact same as her son’s, widening. You began the speech you had rehearsed and hoped your ancient Egyptian was understandable.

 “Ahkmenrah needs help. His tablet is dying.”

 Merenkahre began speaking, much more rapidly than you could follow. You held up your hands and shook your head to indicate that you didn’t understand.

 You jogged the few steps to where you had been waiting and grabbed the letter explaining how you knew their son, where he was, where they were, and about the tablet’s corrosion.

 Their eyes flew over the hieroglyphs, and Shepseheret’s hand covered her mouth as it fell open, her face filling with concern.

 Once again, they began to converse with one another, and you only picked up that they discussed Ahk and his brother, and they definitely did know Kahmunrah had killed them all.

 Surprisingly, they didn’t seem all that shocked to be awake. That made you wonder just how much more they knew about their gift to their son.

 Merenkahre frowned and tried speaking again. You shook your head and shrugged your shoulders, unable to follow enough of what he was saying. You had planned on Larry and Ahk having arrived by now. You wondered what was keeping them, and then, you remembered you had left your backpack and your notebook in Meren’s exhibit.

 You ran to fetch it and hastily wrote out that you could read his language but not speak it.

 Merenkahre stared at your pen for a moment and ran a hand over the paper in awe; then, he scrawled in the notebook:

 “Where is my son?”

 “He’s here, now. That’s why you’ve come to life. The tablet is with him. Can you help?”

 “I need to see it, but yes, I believe I know what is wrong.”

 “What is wrong?”

 “The tablet is most likely in need of Khonsu’s light.”

 You nodded, unsure exactly what the moon god had to do with Ahk’s tablet, but you were overjoyed that his father seemed to know what was wrong.

 Shepseheret reached for the notebook and pen and scrawled a request:

 “Explain more about when and where we are.”

 “England,” you scrawled before drawing a crude map that showed them where they were in relation to Egypt. “The year is 20–.”*

 “Did you find us?”

 “Yes.”

 “Did you find us for my son?”

 “Yes.”

 Shepseheret smiled at you, a soft, knowing smile. She turned and spoke to her husband, and he listened intently.

 You stepped away to allow them to converse, and you used that moment to try to call Larry.

 He answered, panting into the phone.

 “We’ve got—a—slight—problem!”

“Where are you?!”

 And in response, you heard some yelling and scuffling before the line went dead. You were left to stare at your phone and wonder what the hell had gone wrong.

 You decided to stay in the exhibit with Ahk’s parents, trusting that Larry would get Ahkmenrah here. This was what Larry did best.

 Merenkahre and Shepseheret were still deep in conversation but had begun to wonder around each of their exhibits, pointing at artifacts as they examined each room.

 Just as you stepped back into the small hallway that separated Meren’s throne room from Shep’s garden, Larry and Ahk, followed by a small, very awkward crew of supporters, thundered up the stairs and skidded into the exhibit. Ahkmenrah’s mouth dropped open as he approached his mother’s garden.

 Shepseheret ran to her son, the two of them melting into a loving embrace. Merenkahre followed and reached out to touch his son’s face in disbelief. They began to speak in hushed, low voices, and each of their faces was streaked with tears. Ahkmenrah’s smile was so blinding, it dulled the tracks of tears that had slid from his eyes.

 Ahkmenrah asked his mother a question, and she turned and pointed to you as you stood in the shadow of the hallway between the two exhibits.

 You walked out slowly, unsure if your legs would sustain you as you saw Ahkmenrah for the first time in nearly two years.

 “Y/N,” Ahkmenrah breathed, and asked with awe, “What have you done?”

 “I found your family, and my team built this for them. And I had hoped . . . for you, too,” you said as you gestured to the hallway separating Shepseheret’s garden from Ahkmenrah’s chamber.

 Ahkmenrah glanced to the doorway and then to his father’s throne room, the golden sun that had been excavated and painstaking restored, glittered within a glass casing on the floor.

 Ahkmenrah moved from his mother’s embrace, and he slowly closed the distance between you. When he stopped in front of you, he was so close that you could count his eyelashes, close enough that you could smell the rich scent of papyrus, sandalwood, and the open air of the desert that was so determined to cling to him, even after 4,000 years. Ahk took a deep breath and reached out to grip your upper arms.

 You froze as he laid his forehead against yours and closed his eyes, breathing you in. When he opened his eyes, and locked them onto yours, he asked one simple question: “Why?”

 You were still frozen, hypnotized by the intensity of his gaze and the only thing that would come out of your mouth was the truth.

“Because I love you.”

 Ahkmenrah pulled you to him, and your body softened within his embrace as you wrapped your arms around his waist, sliding your hands across the smooth, warm skin of his back.

When he pulled away, he began murmuring, “I am deeply sorry, Y/N. I should have told you. I am and have been wholly in lo—”

 Ahkmenrah’s face grimaced as he staggered forward, almost knocking the wind out of you as you caught him and struggled to hold him upright. As you looked into his face, you were horrified to see the black lines of decay that ringed his eyes, his smooth skin wrinkling to some grey-matter before slowly, slowly turning back to flesh.

 His father rushed forward and wrapped his arm around his son, holding him steady, his face full of concern.

 Ahkmenrah must have explained what was happening and Merenkahre followed up with talking about Khonsu. You could feel the tension between the two of them, and Shepseheret interrupted, speaking gently as she gripped her husband’s arm.

 “That’s it?!” Ahkmenrah exclaimed in English.

 “What? What’s it?!” Larry shouted, unable to wait any longer.

 “All we need to do is expose the tablet to moonlight,” Ahkmenrah said, irritation tinging his speech.

 You felt like your heart stopped—that was easy!

 Too easy.

 Larry sighed. “That would be easy. If we had the tablet.”

 “Uhh, say what now, Lar?” you questioned. “Everyone is alive—the tablet is obviously here. We saw it an hour ago!”

 “It was stolen by a loathsome metal man,” Ahk said through clenched teeth, clearly ready to destroy the thief as his fists clenched in anger.

 You glanced at Ahkmenrah, worried because you’d never seen him so angry, and worried because of the way he had spoken to his parents.

 “Lancelot. You know, of the knights and the round table. He stole the tablet,” Larry finished, looking at you.

 “Why would Lancelot steal? That breaks like 500 codes of chivalry.”

 “He said something about a quest?” Larry answered, clearly unsure about Lancelot’s motive.

 You thumped your hand to your forehead, interrupting yourself.

 “Of course! The display here was built around the knights’ quest for the holy grail. I bet he thinks the tablet can help him find the grail.”

 “The grail, yes.” Ahkmenrah said, his teeth still gritted. “That’s what the little fuck was babbling about.”

 You raised your brows, taken aback by Ahkmenrah’s language.  

 “Are you okay, Ahk?”

 “No—I am clearly not o-fucking-kay as I nearly turned into a pile of rot and bones a moment ago,” he snapped.

 Shepseheret, reading her son’s tone, scolded him.

 He glared at her, anger tinging his cheeks, before something came over him, washing his anger away. His features softened and he apologized to you and to his mother.

 “You don’t need to apologize to me, Ahk. This is all my fault.”

 “My mother says I certainly do need to apologize—wait, what do you mean this is your fault?”

 “I think I did something the night I used it to return us from your memory.”

 Ahkmenrah shook his head before returning to stand in front of you, his hands grasping your face.

 “No. This has nothing to do with that night. If anything, it’s my fault for overusing the tablet. I continued my experiments, and thanks to my parents, never knew it needed moonlight to survive.”

 “Don’t be angry with them, Ahk,” you said as you reached up to grasp his wrist, stroking your thumb across his skin. “They made that tablet out of love.”

 Ahkmenrah lowered his hands and sighed. “I know, Y/N. And I thank you for reuniting us. This means more to me than I can ever express.”

 Merenkahre, every bit still a pharaoh, had grown tired of not knowing what was going on and tapped his staff on the floor, the loud clanging causing everyone except Ahkmenrah to jump.

 Merenkahre spoke, and Ahk said while rolling his eyes, “He wants me to translate.”

 As Ahkmenrah began speaking to his father, you took time to greet Teddy and the others, noticing how depressed and lethargic they seemed, before turning your attention to Larry.

 “How familiar are you with Sir Lancelot?”

 “He was a knight of the round table, a pretty good one, I think, at least until he fell in love with King Arthur’s wife, Guinevere.”

 “Exactly. And guess who is in King Arthur’s display?”

 Larry narrowed his eyes, “Y/N . . . I’m afraid of what is about to come out of your mouth.”

 “They’re wax!” you barked, startling yourself and causing Ahkmenrah to look up from his conversation.

 You huffed and pulled Larry through the hallway and into Merenkahre’s exhibit, damn near shoving him against the wall in your haste to explain.

 “Ahkmenrah, his parents—they are flesh and blood! I don’t care if I have to throw that stupid hunk of wax into an incinerator to get the tablet back.”

 “I know! I know!” Larry said, his hands raised in defense. “It’s just that, well, I don’t just think of them as wax. I’ve gotten to know all of them, Y/N, and they are real—at least the tablet makes them real enough. Think about it—Teddy and Sacagawea. Jed and Octavius. Those connections didn’t exist in their lifetime. They were forged after the tablet brought them to life. And they remember. Just like you and I do.”

 You ran your hands through your hair in frustration.

 Larry knew he wasn’t getting through to you, so he tried a different tactic.

 “You can’t just take on a knight of THE roundtable.”

 “I’m not planning on it,” you said before sighing. “I care about the others, too, Lar, but this is about Ahkmenrah, and now, his parents. What would you do if you were faced with losing Rebecca or Nicky forever?”

 Larry answered without hesitation, “I would do whatever it took to save them.”

 “So help me—I do have a plan, ya know.”

 “Lay it on me, kiddo,” Larry said with a nervous grin.

 * * * * *

 “Alright, Gigantress,” Jed said from the display he and Octavius were standing on. “The queen is alone—she followed the trail of flowers we left, just like you said she would.”

 “This version of Guinevere isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed,” you explained as you readied your rope, gag, and dagger.

 “May Fortuna shine upon you,” Octavius said, giving you a tiny bow.

 You shot him a nervous smile, muttered your thanks, and took off up to the Arctic exhibit. Larry had taken Ahk to distract the mummies that had risen and had been terrorizing most of the other exhibits, hoping that he would be able to command them.

 There was also a very large, very angry rhinoceros that was charging through the museum. It was during that encounter that Lancelot happened upon Larry and Ahk and stole the tablet.

 What a mess—Tilly should get a month’s vacation after this.

 You hoped that your plan would be executed with a little less chaos. You chose the Arctic exhibit as the place to kidnap Guinevere because it was on the topmost floor of the museum, closest to the roof. Also, because it was kept really cool, the doors sealed shut. You wanted to get Guinevere far away from Arthur or any of the other knights. So far, Teddy had done an excellent job of sending Arthur and his knights on a chase across the museum, claiming to be in possession of the grail because he was the reincarnation of Jesus Christ himself.

 On the other hand, Atilla the Hun was busy herding Lancelot toward the Arctic exhibit, relying on a lot of chasing, screaming, and yelling to push the knight into a location where he would see the kidnapped queen.  

 You also knew the Artic exhibit mostly contained the Canadian Inuit and used dioramas and paintings to showcase their life. While the end of the exhibit displayed the animals, the polar bear and the caribou were behind glass, like Sacagawea had been. Your only real worry was avoiding the walrus. There was a massive re-creation of a walrus attacking a boat that served as the centerpiece in the room that housed the polar creatures. While walruses aren’t prone to attacking humans, they did not appreciate boats intruding on their hunting ground. They had proven to be formidable foes for the Inuit.

 After slowly pushing the door open, you stopped to listen for any danger in the exhibit. It was eerily quiet, and the only light came from the dim, round floor lamps. You walked slowly, hoping to catch a glimpse of Guinevere’s silver gown.

 As you wound through the entryway, you came upon a reconstruction of an igloo, and inside, seated with all the flowers she had gathered as part of Jed and Octavius’s trail, was the queen. Her entire being seemed to emit a silvery glow, like she was made of some unearthly substance. Her long blonde hair even seemed to glitter, nearly matching the silver of her gown.

 You slackened the rope in your hands, hoping you would be able to loop it right over her head.

“You have come to kidnap me, I suppose,” Guinevere spoke up, her musical voice doing little to hide the sigh that escaped as she easily surrendered.  

 You raised your eyebrows, unaware how she even saw you approaching from the darkened hallway.

 “Yes, I have come to kidnap you,” you said slowly. “But I don’t want to harm you. I honestly don’t have the time to.”

 Guinevere placed the floral crown she had been weaving on the table in the igloo and stood, proffering her hands.

 “Are you a witch?” she asked as you looped the rope around her wrists.

 “Nope. Just a regular girl trying to save the not so regular guy she loves.”

 “Oh! You are in love?” Guinevere sighed, a light springing into her eyes. “I love falling in love. There is no better feeling in all the realm!”

 “Yeah,” you said, tightening the rope. “Camelot really appreciated that quality of yours. Do I need the gag?”

 “I’ll scream only if you want me to,” Guinevere offered politely.

 “Not yet, sis. But when we see Lancelot, I’m going to need you to scream like a bloody Banshee.”

 “Lancelot,” Guinevere sighed. “Such a wonderful knight. It will be quite exciting to be rescued by him. Again.”

 You narrowed your eyes, and even though you didn’t have the time, you had to ask.

 “Why did you marry Arthur?”

 “It twas my duty, and he was so very charming when first he wooed me. But then it all changed,” Guinevere said as she looked through you, clearly lost in the remnants of her past.

 “He was trying to build a kingdom, to promote equality and—Jesus, why am I explaining this? You’re a myth.”

 Guinevere looked at you again, her eyes looking just as real as any other person’s.

 “But my name is known throughout lands and throughout time, and so it will always be. Can you say the same for yours?”

 You didn’t answer her and instead took her by the arm and lead her in the direction of the exit. If Atilla had done his job, Lancelot would be on his way to the roof with the tablet to rescue his lover. If you got to the central balcony, you might be able to get Guinevere to scream loud enough to hurry the process along. Ahk and Larry should be on their way there, too, barring the mummies didn’t—

 No. No time to think of the what-ifs.

 As you hurried Guinevere down the hallway, you finally replied, “No, Queen Guinevere, my name won’t survive for centuries, but I do hope to live with integrity in this one.”

 “You would have made an excellent knight.”

 Before you could say anything else, the sound of a deep bark stopped you in your tracks.

 “Can you run?”

 “I am a lady. I needn’t bother with ru—"

 “RUN!” you yelled as the walrus began crashing forward, his massive weight shaking the floor as he moved, much quicker than you would have imagined. You pushed Guinevere in the direction of the door, the flickering of her silver dress and blonde hair flashing in your peripheral vision.

 The two of you crashed through the door and Guinevere stumbled, and unable to catch herself, fell to the floor.

 You grabbed a nearby trashcan and shoved the rim under the door, hopefully buying you some time as the walrus crashed into the door, rattling the glass.

 It definitely wouldn’t hold for long.

 “Up you go, queen,” you said hoisting Guinevere to her feet.

 “What was that?”

 “It’s called a walrus, but right now, I need you to look over this railing and scream your head off.”

 Guinevere immediately complied and you almost dropped the dagger to clasp your ears. You grabbed her arm again to stop her and looked over the ledge. Sure enough, Lancelot was bounding up the spiral stairs, Attila on his heels.

 “FIEND,” he screamed. “You will die for touching the queen! Guinevere, your Lancelot is coming for you!”

 “I’m counting on that,” you said, as you pulled her along before she could reply.

 “How romantic,” she sighed as you hurried her up the stairs that let out to the roof.

 Lancelot was not far behind and just as you shoved Guinevere on to the ledge of the roof, he burst through the door.

 Lancelot’s eyes widened at the sight of you with your dagger against Guinevere’s back, her feet just the width of the bricks on which she stood. For the first time, Guinevere actually did appear frightened, and had you been able to see the look on your face, it wouldn’t have come as a surprise that she was.

 Your teeth were bared and the hand that wasn’t clutching the dagger was balled into a fist. Rage radiated from you, unable to believe that this idiot was about to inadvertently kill Ahkmenrah.

 “Give me the fucking tablet, Lancelot, or I kill her,” you said evenly and with excellent annunciation. Lancelot needed to understand your threat was not idle.

 Just as Lancelot was about to reply, Ahkmenrah and Larry, along with Atilla, Teddy and his horse, Jed, Octavius, several mummies, and a few of the other British and American exhibits burst through the door. Larry was holding Ahkmenrah up, his face twisted in pain.

 “The game’s over Lancelot—be a true knight—of the round table—and return what you stole,” Larry said through his pants.

 “Stole?” Lancelot spat out. “This will lead me to THE Holy Grail. THE greatest gift left to man by THE Holy God!”

 “A gift for which you will prove to be unworthy, Lancelot!” you shouted, poking Guinevere in the back so she uttered a sharp little cry. “Give the tablet to Ahkmenrah NOW!”

 Before Lancelot could reply, Ahkmenrah’s knees buckled and Larry nearly lost his hold on him. Ahk was gasping for breath as life slowly began to wither out of him.

 Attila was next, dropping to his knees, his eyes looking forward in a blank stare. Teddy began to freeze, his mouth an “o” of surprise.

 Your scream was damn near feral as you dropped the dagger and abandoned Guinevere to run to Ahkmenrah.

 “HE’S DYING!” you yelled through the sob that tore from your throat.

 Ahk clung to you as you reached him, dropping to your knees to try to support his torso, cradling him in your arms like the night you returned from witnessing his murder by the hands of his own brother.

 Ahkmenrah’s eyes were fixed on you as he tried to speak, but failed.

 You whipped your head to look at Lancelot as you said, “The others—they’re wax and clay and stuffing, but Ahkmenrah is real. He’s real,” you repeated before looking into your rotting king’s face and whispering, “You are real.”

 Ahkmenrah smiled, a sad quick upturn of his lips.

 “Please don’t leave me, Ahk. Please, please, please,” you begged as you pressed a kiss to his greying lips, pieces of flesh wrinkling and falling away, his body becoming lighter, skeletal within your grip.

 Ahkmenrah fixed his eyes on you and spoke, his voice faded but capable now, strengthened only by the imminence of his true death.  

 “Y/N, I love you. I have loved you all this time. I was wrong to push you away. Forgive me?”

 “I love you, Ahkmenrah. I never stopped,” you said through the tears that were falling, landing on the greying flesh that was turning to dust, mixing to make tiny spots of ashy-mud.

 “What have I done?!” Lancelot cried as he quickly pulled the tablet from within his armor.

 “It needs moonlight!” Larry yelled.

 Lancelot held the tablet high over his head in an offering to the night sky.

 As the moon’s silvery rays hit it, the tablet’s corrosion stopped, then began to reverse; however, instead of just reverting to its golden state, it turned white as the moonlight restored its power, building until it flashed in a blinding white light that pulsed across the rooftop.

 You watched in awe as Ahkmenrah was immediately restored, his body growing strong again in your arms, his flesh hardening and smoothing back into its familiar, brown coloring.

 Ahkmenrah reached up to grasp your cheek with his palm, cupping it to pull you into a kiss. You could hear the others cheering and you pulled back, laughing with Ahk as the two of you clambered to your feet.

 “I believe this belongs to you, your Royal Highness. Please accept my humblest apology,” Lancelot said with a bow.

 You could feel Ahkmenrah’s anger, but you shifted into his arms, drawing his attention back to you. You rested your hand on Ahk’s warm abdomen and said to him in ancient Egyptian, “He is a remnant. That is all he is.”

 Ahkmenrah’s eyes softened as he understood the implication of your words. Never again would you allow him to use the excuse of only being an artifact. He was bone, blood, and flesh. He was human.

 Ahkmenrah tilted his head and accepted the errant knight’s apology.

 Soon, the others gathered around you, cheering and celebrating that life would continue for them all.

 Larry pulled you into a hug and whispered, “You did it, kiddo!” before releasing you to wrap Ahk into an even stronger hug.

 “We saved,” Atilla spoke up, his gravelly voice speaking English and causing everyone to turn. “We PARTY!”

 The group on the rooftop exploded into excitement, Ahkmenrah’s laughter warming you despite the cold air of the night that whipped across the rooftop.

 * * * * *

 You were quite certain the world had never seen a party like this. To an outsider, it might look like a really broadly themed costume party, but you couldn’t help but think about how to now define the word real. You and Larry and Tilly were real. So was Ahkmenrah, his parents, and the other mummies. But the other exhibits? Could you qualify them as real?

 Even if you did, you would have shoved a dagger into Guinevere or melted Lancelot with a torch to save Ahkmenrah. Still, Larry’s earlier words resonated with you.

 You smiled unabashedly as you saw Ahk manning the DJ table as usual, this time with his parents by his side, utterly fascinated by the technology their son could so easily use.

 Someone had found a bubble machine along with an entire crate of Christmas crackers. Bubbles filled the air as tiny bangs burst along with the music, the exhibits dancing gleefully through the throngs of confetti that popped out of the crackers, some even fighting over the tiny prizes inside.

 You closed your eyes for a moment and thanked whoever or whatever may be listening, then you turned away from the noise and began climbing the stairs to the Egyptian wing. You were so tired, but at the same time, it felt like your skin was thrumming with electricity. The very air felt different to you; things seemed brighter, more real than they had in the past year and a half. You assumed that’s what love was—finding someone who could electrify your life, brighten it, just with their presence.

 You wondered through Ahkmenrah’s chambers, thinking about what the future would hold. It was clear that your life would never be “normal,” but normal was subjective.

 You eventually returned to Shepseheret’s garden, settling into the roped hammock that closely resembled a porch swing. You closed your eyes and listened to the distant thudding of the music and the quiet trickling of the stream that ran through the grasses. It was almost as if you were back there, in Ahk’s memory. You could swear that you could even smell him—

 “It seems that every time a crisis is averted, we throw a party,” Ahkmenrah said as his sandaled feet crunched along the tiny rocks of the garden path.

 Your eyes popped open as you shook off the sleepiness that had nearly claimed you. Meeting his eyes, those beautiful, prominently intense and polychromatic eyes, you said, “Welcome to modern times. We party to forget our pain.”

 “Definitely not a modern concept, my love,” Ahkmenrah said as he settled onto the hammock, scooting closer so you could use his lap as a pillow. One of his arms settled across your sweater-clad stomach, but the barrier of clothing didn’t stop your body from reacting to his proximity, your lower abdomen inwardly clenching at the remembrance of the pleasure this man had once given you.

 Ahk had removed his crown, and now he kicked off his sandals. You could feel the muscles in his legs shift and tighten as wiggled his toes into the sand that was underneath the hammock.

 “If only kids knew that historical figures were this into getting lit. They may actually pay attention in their history classes.”

 Ahkmenrah chuckled, but it was clear he had something on his mind.

 The atmosphere quickly grew serious. You could feel the tension rise in the air and in his body, his fingers rubbing a pattern, back and forth against your sweater. Suddenly, you were very awake. It occurred to you that you should’ve seen this coming, that you shouldn’t have been so goddamn stupid.

 Well, this time, you’d beat him to the punch.

 You sat up, Ahkmenrah pulling his arm back as you wiggled away from him. You swung your legs over the edge of the bench, sitting upright as if you were in a proper chair, your own body now taught, stress tightening your muscles.

 Every fucking time you let a wall down, Ahkmenrah managed to come in à la Miley Cyrus and her wrecking ball; he flooded you with emotions and made you completely vulnerable.

 So, you would babble. You would lie and then lie some more, all in the hope of stifling the blow that was about to come.

 “I know, Ahk. You don’t even have to command me this time—I’ll ‘go gently into that good night’ before you even tell me that everything you said was because you thought you were dying. And if you were about to be dead, there was no harm in saying wonderful things because there would be NO issue of where the fuck we go from here because you’d be dead. So, it’s fine. It’s whatever. I did this once. I can do it again.”

 Ahkmenrah was very quiet until you stopped speaking, allowing the silence to fill the room again, and just as it teetered on oppressive, he spoke.

 “I love you,” he said, clearly and full of emotion.

 You looked up from the hammock, your knuckles whitening as you gripped the edges of the woven ropes.

 You dared to turn your head to look at him, only to find that he was staring at you.

 “I love you,” he repeated, locking his eyes onto yours.

 You looked away, the emotion too intense.

 Ahkmenrah moved off the hammock and kneeled before you, placing his hands over your gripping fists. You looked down into his face, his beautiful face, and didn’t know what to say anymore. Your lies didn’t work; nothing would soften the blow of what was about to come.

 Ahkmenrah continued while your heart pounded in your chest.

 “I hurt you because I thought I had to—I thought it was the right thing to do. Never, have I ever regretted something so deeply as not coming after you, not running down the streets of the great city and yelling that I loved you, too. But I knew if I did, none of this would have happened. Look around you, Y/N. You have done this. You have built this. I will never ask you to give up your dreams, but what I am going to ask you for is any piece of your life you are willing to share with me. I will be with you in any way that you will let me.”

 His eyes were bright and pleading. The irony of the once great pharaoh of Egypt on his knees before a commoner was not lost on you. This was as significant of a gesture as Ahk knew how to make. A god-king never kneeled, and here he was, his knees in the sandy dirt, begging for any scrap of you that you were willing to give him.

 Your mind was engaged in a violent war: Lie, lie, lie, and keep lying your goddamn ass off, said one side. The other echoed only one simple plea: let him love you.

 Ahkmenrah watched and couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his lips. “Let me in, Y/N. Let me know what’s going on in here,” he said as he softly touched the middle of your forehead.

 It was your turn to let the silence grow, to let the war inside your head rage while the Fourth King of the Fourth King stayed on his knees, his eyes pleading for one more chance.

 You took a deep breath and said, “You already have all my pieces, Ahk.”

 Ahkmenrah pushed himself up from his knees and pulled you up from the hammock to take you in his arms and kiss you with that same passion you had once poured into your goodbye kiss after the night you witnessed his death. He kissed you with nearly two years’ worth of longing, of regret, and of heartbreak.

 And most importantly, when he pulled his lips from yours to allow the both of you to breath, he cupped your face and rubbed his thumb over your cheek and told you he would never let himself become nothing more than a remnant of your past.

 You both jumped when Merenkahre spoke up from the head of the garden, neither of you having heard the approach of Ahk’s parents.

 You both turned, laughing nervously with your kiss-swollen lips. Ahkmenrah held your hand, tightening his grip when you tried to pull away to let him speak to his parents.

 “I want to properly introduce you to them, Y/N,” Ahk explained as he pulled you forward.

 “I already did that,” you said, trying to tug your hand away again.

 Ahkmenrah stopped and turned to face you, awaiting your explanation.

 “When Larry told me you were sick, I knew I wouldn’t have much time to explain to your parents what was happening and I certainly knew they wouldn’t wake up speaking English. So, I wrote them a letter and I . . . well, I told them that I loved you. That I’d do anything to save you.”

 Ahkmenrah grinned and stepped forward to kiss you again, a gentle press of his lips to yours as he slid a finger under your chin.

 His eyes danced with happiness as he said, “Then there is nothing to be nervous about now, my love.”

 You sighed, clearly unable to avoid this awkward reintroduction.

 Ahkmenrah spoke to first his father and then to his mother. You understood your name and the Egyptian words for love and for honor. He also referenced Shai, the god of fate. You were almost positive you caught Hathor somewhere in there, too.

 When he finished speaking, he stepped back a little and nudged you forward.

 “Say hello,” he said nodding with encouragement as if you were a toddler attempting to take your first steps.

 You took a moment to gather your translated thoughts and said, “I am honored to be in your presence your Royal Majesties. I understand I am common, unworthy of your beloved son, but I love him and only wish to make him happy.”

 Merenkahre and Shepseheret looked at each other and giggled, then Merenkahre clapped his somewhat embarrassed looking son on the back.

 “What did I say,” you said, panic sweeping through your eyes.

 “You just told my parents that you loved me . . . and wished to provide me with endless sexual satisfaction.”

 Your mouth dropped open and you looked back at his parents who were grinning broadly, clearly amused by your gaffe.

 You narrowed your eyes at Ahkmenrah and hissed, “This is your fault!”

 Ahkmenrah, now grinning, too, clarified what you had meant by “happy.” You noticed the intonation of the two versions of the word were quite different.  

 Meren and Shep both nodded, laughing a little, clearly understanding what your intended meaning had been.

 Shepseheret stepped forward and embraced you. You could feel the beads in her hair slide across your cheek and smell her sweet perfume, a mixture of lavender, rose, and of the subtle smell of papyrus, just like her son. She held on to your hands as she pulled back and said, “My son is lucky to have your love.”

 You understood her and thanked her.

 Then, Merenkahre moved forward as Shepseheret stepped back. He gripped your upper arms and thanked you for reuniting his family.

 “I owe you a great debt, Y/N,” he said as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

 You smiled, and Ahkmenrah took his place at your side, wrapping his arm around your waist. He leaned over to whisper in your ear, “That was not so bad, was it?”

 You lightly elbowed him in the ribs in response causing him to laugh softly into your ear before he straightened, his father clearly waiting to tell him something.

 “What is it father?”

 “Son, your tablet does not just restore life temporarily. The magic within it contains enough power to return you, fully, to your mortal state.”

 Ahkmenrah stared in disbelief as you furrowed your brow, trying to piece together what Merenkahre was saying.

 Shepseheret stepped forward and took her son in her arms, hugging him while whispering, “You could have the life your brother stole from you, my beloved. All we have ever wanted was for you to live a full, happy life.”

 Ahkmenrah continued to stare in disbelief, your heart dropping into your stomach as you caught the mention of Kahmunrah and his murder of Ahk.

 “The tablet will need to be bathed in Khonsu’s light every night for fourteen days. Once it has soaked in all of Khonsu’s magic, it will have the power to restore you, permanently.”

 “Father, what do you mean by only saying that it will restore me, not us?”

 Merenkahre looked at his son, pride chasing away the sadness that had filled his eyes as Ahk questioned him.

 “I did not wish for you to ask that question, but you have always been clever, my son. Once the tablet is drained of its restorative magic, it will turn to dust, as will we.”

 Ahkmenrah stared in disbelief at his parents. They were offering to give up their lives for his.

 Unable to wait any longer, you seized the gap in the conversation to ask, “What did they say about the tablet and its magic?”

 “Y/N,” Ahk said quickly, his robes swirling as he turned to face you. “What if—what if I could be . . . human? Not just at night, but all the time. Would you still want me?”

 Your first instinct was to laugh, but the seriousness on Ahkmenrah’s face told you this was not a hypothetical question.

 “The tablet . . . can make you . . . totally human?” you questioned.

 “Yes.”

 You felt light-headed and reached for the hammock, but it was nowhere near you. Ahkmenrah reached for you and held you firmly to his chest. His eyes were boring into yours, searching for an answer.

 “Ahk, I love you—you are it for me. You’ve ruined me because I really believe you are the love of my life. Pharaoh ‘alive-only-at-night’ you, or mortal ‘alive-all-the-time’ you. I want you any way I can have you.”

 Ahkmenrah smiled one of those blinding, million-dollar grins that you had missed so much.

 “I want to be alive-all-the-time with you, Y/N. I want a life.”

 You wanted to return his joyful smile but worry niggled too strongly in your mind.

“You won’t be immortal. You will get sick. Get old. You will—you’ll die, Ahk.”

 “I know,” Ahkmenrah said softly, the remnants of his smile still on his lips. “But I will also have lived.”

 This time, your smile acted of its own accord, exploding across your features and reaching your eyes, your face the embodiment of joy.

 * * * * *

 For two weeks, the inhabitants of the British museum came to life at night; Larry had stayed for two more days to help Tilly develop a schedule for keeping order, and despite her awed confusion, she vigorously delved into her role as a guardian.

 You had kept Ahk’s secret from Larry about becoming mortal. After all, you mostly lived your life waiting for the next hammer to fall, so you figured that if everything did go according to plan, you could give Larry and Rebecca one hell of a surprise when you and Ahkmenrah showed up on their doorstep in the middle of the day.

 You and Ahk followed his father’s instructions and exposed the tablet to moonlight every night at midnight. The tablet’s appearance didn’t seem to change, but Ahkmenrah seemed to fill with an energy that you couldn’t explain. You weren’t sure if it was the magic of the tablet or if it was the possibility of him living a life of his choosing.

 Ahkmenrah spent most of his time with his parents and you respected their privacy. Besides, it was exactly what you had worked for—to bring them together so Ahk could be happy.

 While Ahkmenrah was with his parents, you spent time with the unidentified mummies, unbandaging them and working to identify each of them. While they were no longer in such a chaotic state, they were struggling to transition. They weren’t discovered by someone like you or Jack; they were jostled out of their slumber and thrust into a word they did not understand.

 Currently, you were sitting in a circle, getting each of the mummies to share their history. A young boy with dark brown hair and eyes so big and dark they appeared to be black was talking about his parents—at least that was the gist of what you caught.

 You knew Ahkmenrah had entered the room before you even saw him because each of the Egyptians stiffened and immediately shifted their positions to kneeling and bowing their heads.

 Ahkmenrah told them to rise and to resume their discussion.

 They hesitantly returned to more comfortable, seated positions, but their chatter was hushed, their eyes wide and glancing at Ahkmenrah.

 “Hi, love,” you said, as he bent down to press a kiss to your temple.

 “I do apologize for interrupting your meeting.”

 “You are quite the distraction, King Ahkmenrah.”

 He chuckled and said, “I only wanted to tell you that I’ll be with my parents until near dawn. It will be tonight, Y/N, that my father will reveal to me the final spell.”

 “Oh,” you uttered, unable to articulate anything more than that tiny word.

 Ahkmenrah smiled at you and nodded. “Come to the roof at 6:45 once the museum is quiet.”

 “That’s cutting it awfully close, Ahk.”

 “I am aware, but it needs to be this way.”

 “Okay,” you said slowly processing what this meant. “Okay! I will see you then. Give your parents my love.”

 Ahkmenrah said he would, and as he reached the door, he turned to look at you, reengaging the regenerated mummies, adding new scribbles to the scraps of paper that surrounded your seat on the floor. The corners of his mouth turned downward in a display of longing to bring them all to life again; while watching them, he felt so selfish.

 Then, Ahkmenrah thought about the afterlife, something he and all of his people truly believed in. The tablet had ripped the souls in front of him from The Field of Reeds, including his own parents’. They all had families waiting for them there, and one day, Ahk would be reunited with his family again, too. By choosing to destroy the table, he was also choosing to bear the guilt of ending the earthly lives of the exhibits in the museum and of the mummies and his own parents.

 Everything has its price.

 * * * * *

 “The mummies are all wrapped up and back in their coffins,” you said with a wave good-night to the Tilly.

 “Thanks for your help, Y/N. Everyone else is all tucked in for their nighty-night!”

 You smiled and popped into the elevator, heading to the roof.

 When the doors opened, you were greeted by the bright grey of the pre-dawn. Ahkmenrah was looking toward the place where the sun would rise, a slash of pinkish-orange just barely visible near the line of the horizon.

 His breath came out in little vapory puffs and you pulled your coat around you a bit tighter as you moved to stand next to him. You looked over, your eyes absorbing his regal profile. His eyes held a profound sadness that surprised you.

 “Are you sure you’re ready to do this, Ahk? There’s no rush.”

 “Waiting longer will not make this any easier,” Ahkmenrah said as he tore his eyes away from the growing pink and orange blur.

 He turned to face you, his eyes locking on yours to draw strength. He took a deep breath and looked down at the tablet. You watched his lips as they issued a string of ancient Egyptian, his tone low and befitting of a spell.

 The tablet began to glow as it did on the night it was reinvigorated by Khonsu’s light, but the light grew so bright that you had no choice but to turn away. Through your closed eyes, you saw a brilliant flash.

 When you were able to see again, the bright white light was entering Ahk’s fingertips, slowly sliding its way up his arms. You watched the white light as it slid over his entire body. His eyes were closed and his breathing was even, so you knew that whatever was happening wasn’t painful. The bright light met at his chest and split, the light trailing up and down his torso. You watched as the light washed up and over his face and head, and then down his legs and over his toes.

 There was a sudden gust of warm air that blew dirt and the remnants of the last snow out and away from the both of you. You searched Ahkmenrah’s face, and when he finally opened his eyes, you both looked to the tablet as it began to blacken.

 In an instant, the tablet crumbled in Ahk’s hands, the black dust falling to the roof, blending in with the black of the dried tar that was partially obscured by the dirty snow.

 “No,” you whispered. “Oh, no.”

 You dropped to your knees and ran your fingers through the remnants of the tablet, your fingertips smudging with the ash. You rubbed your thumb, forefinger, and middle finger together in disbelief. You looked up at Ahkmenrah and he held his hands palm up. You slid your hands into his, the fingers with the ash drawing soft black smudges across his palm.

 He pulled you up and slid his hands up your arms, gripping you.

 “It’s okay, Y/N. I knew. I just . . . I just did not know how to tell you.”

  “So that’s it? The tablet is gone. They’re all . . . gone. Forever.”

 “Yes,” Ahkmenrah whispered, his eyes still the same intense, polychromatic swirl of blue and green, but they were filled with such hope, such infinite possibility that it took your breath away.

“You chose this?” you questioned.

 “I chose you, yes,” Ahkmenrah said with a smile.

 “But your parents! Did they know?”

 “Of course they knew, and this is what they wanted for me. All they ever wanted was for me to be happy. For me to live.”

 Your mind filled with an inability to believe what had just happened. The tablet was gone. No more would anything come to life in the museum—it was all, once again, reduced to wax, stuffing, and bone.

 But Ahkmenrah was alive. You could feel that, and it squeezed at your heart in the same way his million-dollar smile did.

 You took a deep breath and smiled at Ahkmenrah.

 “Well, then how do you want to start living?”

 “I want to watch the sun RISE,” Ahkmenrah said with firmness.  

 “And then?”

 “I want to marry you.”

 You laughed, and Ahkmenrah gave you that million-dollar grin.

 “All in one day?” you questioned through your laughter. “Maybe we should take it a bit slower—"

 “Do you doubt that this is our destiny?”

 “I, uh . . . no. No, I don’t,” you said smiling at your eventual assuredness.

 “Then let us begin our life together now. Let me teach you how to live like we lived, Y/N. I will prove to you that every day is a gift from the gods,” Ahkmenrah finished as he kissed you, his lips moving with practiced ease against yours, his tongue lightly twining with yours.

 You closed the kiss, much quicker than you wished as you remembered what Ahk’s first request had been.

 “You’re going to miss your first sun rise in 4,000 years!”

 Ahkmenrah’s eyes never moved from your face, his gaze settling again on your lips.

 “We have a lifetime to watch the sun rise, my queen. For now, kiss me until I cannot breathe.”

 * * * * *

 The streaks of pink and orange began to swirl together, combining until the ball of brightness that was the sun formed and burst above the horizon. The two figures on the top of the British Natural History Museum hardly noticed as the rays of the sun washed over their bodies, warming them as they continued to embrace, lost in what was considered a kiss for the ages.

Epilogue, forthcoming . . .

[quarterfromcanon]

Gradation

Heather & Valencia - Femslash February - Day 7 - Nail Polish [2,503 words]

Home Base was in one of its periods of flux. The late lunch crowd shuffled out while the early dinner customers ambled toward their usual seats. Heather was in the final stretch of her scheduled work hours and expected nothing special from such an unremarkable Thursday. So, when Valencia stepped out of the glaring sunlight and swept in through the door, the surprise visit made for an especially welcome turn of events.

Heather’s excited expression dimmed, however, when she noted an all-too-familiar shift in her companion’s appearance. Valencia’s hair was pulled into a messy bun that looked as though it had been worn up overnight for at least seventy-two hours; her shirt appeared to be a forgotten garment from her high school years, and the legs of her sweatpants pooled around her ankles. Her purse strap was held together by duct tape. Heather had already noticed the discrete Facebook relationship status change the previous week but, even without that prior knowledge, she was familiar enough with Valencia’s dejectedly single fashion sense to recognize it on sight. 

None of the Gurl Group members knew what happened. Right now, Rebecca was only aware of whatever news from the outside world was brought to her on visiting days, but Paula and even Heather herself were kept similarly in the dark. Heather anticipated a severe fallout in the wake of the split from Beth, but witnessing it firsthand was another matter entirely. The sorrow was more physically profound this time than it was after Josh. Valencia’s eyes were ringed by dark, sleep-deprived circles and she was unusually pale in a way that made her seem ill. Several passing patrons corrected their course across the room just to allow her a wider berth. She reached the bar and pulled herself onto a stool. 

Heather waited for a moment, but Valencia did not speak. Her gaze flicked briefly in Heather’s direction and darted away again before there was any risk of eye contact. Instead, she settled for staring at the shiny surface of the bar.

“Hey, stranger,” Heather greeted when several minutes of unbroken silence had passed.

“Hi,” Valencia rasped. Her voice was feeble and scratchy from lack of use, coupled by what Heather guessed had been multiple days of frequent and heavy crying.

Valencia hugged her torso, still not quite able to regard Heather directly. As Valencia rubbed shaking hands up and down her arms, Heather noticed that her fingers were sporting chipped polish in a variety of hues. Heather was momentarily surprised that Valencia indulged in applying paint to her nails, but then it dawned on her what day it was.

“I like your Pride colors,” she told her.

Valencia laughed humorlessly with tears in her eyes. “Happy National Coming Out Day to me.”

She blinked rapidly before splaying out her fingers to examine what remained of the days-old coat. “Beth did these for me, before...” Valencia faked a cough but didn’t finish the sentence. “We decided that since I’m still Official Identity Pending, a rainbow was the right call for my first year being out. She taught me what they meant, too.”

Valencia turned the backs of her palms to face Heather and wiggled each finger as she identified its color symbolism. “Sex, life, healing, sun, nature, the arts, harmony, and spirit. Fitting that the life one ended up on my middle finger since its favorite thing to give me is a resounding ‘Fuck You.’” She shook her head, clenched her hands into fists, and tucked them under the crooks of her elbows. 

“What are the white ones on the ends?” Heather asked tentatively.

Valencia whispered to conceal a break in her voice. “Clouds.” She cleared her throat and chanced a quick look at Heather’s face. “I’m sorry. The last nine days have been hell. I only left the apartment because I didn’t think I could stand being surrounded by the memories any longer. I don’t mean to keep sounding fragile and melodramatic but those are my only two modes right now. Please, ignore me.”

Heather leaned over the bar and brushed her fingers along Valencia’s forearm in a concerned gesture. “Valencia Perez never wants to be ignored.”

Valencia looked into her eyes for the first time and had to visibly choke down a sob. “You’re right. That’s not what’s going to help me. To quote one of the godawful conversation t-shirts she and I saw while we were shopping online together: I’m here. I’m queer. I need a beer.”

Heather gave her a gentle smile. “I’ll take care of you.”

She turned her back and began preparing a glass, but Valencia’s voice stopped her.

“Heather?”

“Hmm?”

“The beer thing was just for the sake of the rhyme, so--”

“One finger of bourbon? I kinda assumed and already started pouring that.”

“Perfect,” Valencia confirmed. “Thanks. You’re the best.”

Heather brought the drink over and set it down before her. Valencia took a sip and shut her eyes. She cupped the beverage on either side and slid it back and forth between her hands. 

“Hey, my work day is done in, like, two minutes. Nobody’s gonna care if I ditch early. I’m basically their boss now, anyway. Do you wanna maybe come outside with me and sit at one of the tables?” Heather suggested.

Valencia twisted around to consider the rest of the clientele, then peered beyond them through the window at the warm glow of the setting sun. “Yeah,” she agreed with a little nod. “That sounds nice.”

“Cool.”

They left the bar and found a spot far enough away from the doors that they were unlikely to be disturbed. Valencia put her drink down and faced the horizon, her back to Heather who was seated opposite from her.

Heather lightly tapped her hands against the rusted tabletop. “The breeze feels good.”

“Autumn’s settling in,” Valencia remarked. 

“Sweatshirt weather.” Heather rocked forward and back on the bench and tapped the toes of her shoes together.

“You can ask if you want to.”

Heather frowned and leaned on her elbows. “I don’t want to make you face something before you’re ready, V. But, if you wanna talk to me, I’ll listen. To anything, really. Not just about this.”

Valencia took another drink. “It’s okay. I’ve been wallowing in it for long enough. I think I can at least get through telling you the basics.”

“Okay.” Heather gripped the crosshatched metal under her fingers and waited patiently.

Valencia took a deep breath. “Beth asked me to come with her to New York,” she announced on the exhale.

“To visit? Didn’t you just go on a weekend trip not that long ago for her parents’ anniversary?”

“Yeah, we did. And no. Not to visit. To live. Permanently.”

Heather’s stomach lurched at the thought. “Oh.”

“I said no.”

In spite of herself, Heather’s heart gave a relieved throb. “How come?”

“It just wasn’t right for me. I tried to keep an open mind. I swear to God, I did. Beth and I had fun on the visit and I could see how much she lit up to be back around familiar places and people. I’m all she really had out here. But New York is so big and crowded and confusing. It swallows you whole. I just kept remembering what Rebecca said on the party bus, the day you and I first met. To me, it looked and felt just like she described. That city may be home to some people -- it clearly is to Beth -- but, as far as I’m concerned, I’d side with Rebecca on this one. Much as this place annoys me and pisses me off, I’d take West Covina over NYC any day.”    

Valencia polished off the last of the alcohol.

“So, she’s going back?” Heather cautiously filled in the blanks. “...Without you?”

“Yeah.” Valencia swung her legs over the bench so she and Heather could be eye to eye. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave my life behind. My family’s here. Everything I know. And my friends... I finally have those, for the first time in so long... possibly ever... real friends, and I just got them. Was I supposed to put a whole country between myself and the happiest I’ve ever been, go back to just being somebody’s girlfriend who doesn’t really fit in with their crowd? Should I have done that?”

The teardrops she’d been keeping at bay thus far spilled down her face in two winding trails that reached her chin and then plummeted to the cement underfoot.

“Beth’s one of the most caring, patient, and kind people I’ve met in my entire life. I never wanted to hurt her. But the move would’ve destroyed me. I knew she wouldn’t want me to lie to her but, God, telling the truth broke both our hearts.”

She folded her arms, dropped her head onto them, and then began weeping in earnest. Heather climbed up and over the table to sit beside her. She pulled Valencia into her arms and held fast while her best friend shook with bereavement.

Heather rocked from side to side and rubbed circles on Valencia’s back. Her own throat was burning with sympathetic emotion that she could barely keep in check. “I’ve got you,” she murmured, distraught by the inadequacy of the only sentence that would come to mind.

Eventually, Valencia quieted to sporadic shudders and an occasional sniffle. “Your poor blouse. It’s sopping wet now.”

Heather pulled back and gripped Valencia’s arms. “I don’t care. It’ll air dry.”

“I’ve kept you with me so long,” Valencia said apologetically. “You could’ve been home with Hector ages ago.”

Heather tensed and let her hands fall into her lap. “Um, yeah, he’s not worrying about me, so... it’s fine.”

Valencia detected the evasiveness in her tone. “What do you mean?”

“He kinda moved out. I kinda encouraged that... by calling if off between us.” 

Valencia’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. Also, how long were you going sit there and let me rattle on about myself without telling me what happened?”

“As long as you needed.”

Valencia’s expression softened. “Well, now I need to be able to return the favor. So talk to me.”

Heather ran both hands over her tied-back curls and sighed. “He didn’t do anything bad. He’s a great guy. We got along super well. I think he might be the first time I ever felt like I was dating a friend.”

Valencia shook her head, perplexed. “Then what changed?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay, I’m lost.”

“Yeah. So was I.” Heather lifted her shoulders helplessly. “That’s the problem. I know I’m not a big planner -- that’s your specialty -- but, even for me, I got into bed with Hector way too fast. Literally and figuratively.”

Valencia grimaced but smoothed her features once more and patted Heather’s knee. “Go on.”

“He was reliable and accepting and a total sweetheart. We were getting used to the flow of our routine and building up a new life together,” Heather continued, “but, it was like you said about New York: it just wasn’t right for me.”

Heather met Valencia’s gaze for a moment but then fiddled with the shoelace on the foot she was resting atop the bench. “Not to make Rebecca’s jail time sound like a good thing -- because it’s not, at all -- but without her around, I got a taste of what a future with just me and Hector could be like. I couldn’t find anything wrong with it... but nothing felt right.” She fidgeted and kept her eyes downcast. “Anyway, we sat down at the table one night and had a really long talk. There wasn’t any yelling; it wasn’t over-the-top. Just really sad. But we came to an agreement that this was for the best. He’s crashing with WhiJo now.”

Valencia nodded and gave herself time to absorb the information. “Wow.” She trailed her fingertip along the edge of the bench. “Why’s it so painful if we made the choice?”

“I don’t know. I just know it fucking sucks.”

“Hear, hear.”

They both sat in silence for a minute while the breeze tousled their hair.

Valencia slapped her hands against her thighs. “Enough of this. I need a distraction. I think you could use one, too.” She adjusted the taped strap over her shoulder. “Why don’t I paint Pride nails for you? I still have a few of the bottles in the bottom of this purse.”

Heather thought it over for a bit and shrugged. “Okay.”

“You’ve got to go back to the other side, though, so I’ve got room to work.”

Heather dutifully clambered over to her previous bench, the awkward process of which made Valencia laugh for the first time in weeks. Heather smiled too and, once she was settled, fanned out her left hand across the table. 

Valencia rummaged through her bag and produced three colors: pink, lavender, and blue. “That’s the order, right?”

“Yeah, you’ve got it.”

Valencia unscrewed the first lid and took Heather’s hand in hers. She applied the pink in small, delicate strokes. “You know, I really didn’t thank you enough for coming out to me when I was struggling to come out to myself. You showed me a side of the journey that I don’t know if I could have pictured otherwise. You’re so confident in your own skin, so at ease with who you are. Sure, I saw some of that with WhiJo being so openly gay while we were growing up, but it all has a way bigger impact when it’s coming from someone you trust.”

A flicker of pain crossed Heather’s face, but Valencia’s focus on the task prevented her from catching it. “Glad to help,” Heather said simply.

Valencia opened the lavender bottle. “You always do.”

Heather’s senses felt heightened and the touch of Valencia’s fingers beneath hers left subtle bumps along the sides of her arms. 

“All right, one blue and this hand will be ready,” Valencia declared.

“Looks good.” Heather gulped and turned her attention to the sun, which had now disappeared halfway behind the crest of the land. “The baseball field is actually kinda pretty at this time of day.”

“Surprisingly, yes,” Valencia agreed. “But I’d better hurry. If I don’t wrap this up, the sky will match your nails and I’ll be painting the right hand in the dark.”

She finished the blue fingernail and brought Heather’s hand close to her lips. “This one’s ready to dry,” she explained, and then began to blow on the polish. 

Valencia’s breath tickled across Heather’s ring finger and she shivered. “Thanks for doing this. You were right about it being a distraction. It helps.”

“My pleasure. I’m glad it’s working for you, too.” She locked eyes with Heather again. “I want you to know I’ll always be here for you.”

Heather’s pulse thrummed against her ribs. “Thank you. And you know you can count on me too, right?”

Valencia ran her thumb across the backs of Heather’s fingers and smiled. “I do.”

[the-canary]

Too Damn Proud - S.R (4/5)

Summary: The man was born with two left feet, but damn could he steal a heart. (Modern/Dancing AU! Reader/Steve Rogers)

Prompt:  “Is now a good time to confess my love or should I come back in a week?”

Masterlist

A/N: This is for @whiskeybucky‘s writing challenge. i wonder if you guys can catch what i am working on next through this. 

Feedback is always appreciated.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

“You know, I heard Steve asked Sharon out on a date?” Sam brings in smoothly, as the two of you watch Manchester City against Liverpool.

You weren’t sure where the tradition began, but Sam had a tendency to watch football games when he was stressed about something, namely school and now Natasha. It had seemed that he had become a fan of one of them, though you didn’t know which one as he tended to yell at both teams. You were a fan since joining him, though you were never going to tell him of which team -- that would just escalate things. And like whenever he is trying to godge you, you just take a sip of your beer and hum out a tone of acknowledgement.     

“You gonna keep denying, sweets,” brown eyes turn to look at you, “I saw you look at him with those doe eyes before dancing with Bucky.”

“Pleading the 5th,” is all you say, as he groans in frustration, “Especially, if he has a girlfriend now.”

“What about Bucky then?” he asks in desperation, as you give him a tight smile. You knew that Sam just wanted you to be happy with someone like he was with Natasha, but after failed dates and relationships for your age, you were happy with the friendships and successful business you had worked on.

“Little Nancy Barnes is starting her ballet classes this fall,” you smile, thinking about your lunch date with Bucky and his sister, Rebecca, a few days back asking about what classes you had for elementary school children since his niece was going through an Angelina Ballerina phase.

“So no date?” he questions, still despairing but with a glimmer in his eyes that almost makes you laugh. Sam only thought of the best for you, and that’s why you loved him so dearly as one of your longest and closest friends.

“No, I’m sorry,” you laugh, as he shakes his head before going back to the game at hand, only getting up to yell at the missed goal. However, a little black spider was already working her magic elsewhere.

 “So, how was your date? With the dance instructor, right?” Natasha grins at Bucky who simply shakes his head. He knew the redhead well enough, even when on a date with her once, to know when she was up to no good. However, Bucky was also aware of his best friend being close enough to listen and he knew the punk to well not to notice the way he was looking her a couple of days ago.

Steve Rogers was smitten all right, and not by Sharon Carter.

“Just lunch, no biggie,” Bucky shrugs like it’s nothing while double checking his medical equipment, “She was really pretty, wearing a summer dress and all.”

Bucky can only shake his head at the sound of crashing in the small changing room not far away from them. Natasha’s grins turns wicked, as she asks one question -- going in for the kill.

“Are you gonna see her again?” green eyes are sparkling, as Bucky grins.

“How knows? We’ll see where it goes,” he answers vaguely.

Cursing can be heard in the back now, as both friends share a laugh at the expense of their Captain and while they will pay for their actions ten-fold during drills. Both Bucky and Natasha decide it’s worth when  they see Steve lost in thought for the next couple of days.

 Steve Rogers has a lot to think about in between his last two weeks of dance classes. He thought about the small changes he had from carrying a sketchbook where he went now to taking time to listen more closely to a song that played and he didn’t know. He went to the Guggenheim, but he found it wasn’t enough and slowly he put one and two together, as he observed the couples and children together on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

So, he gathered all his imaginary courage and asked Sharon on a date, but he soon comes to realize that it was a mistake. As much as a wonderful gal as she was, she was extremely professional and her tight-lipped smile didn’t set his heart fluttering like it should’ve, like it had done so earlier. After the failed date, thinking in the middle of the night, his mind wandered to a certain dance instructor -- how she smiled and laughed, how her soothing and witty comments always eased his frustration during their time together.

“Okay, Mr. Rogers, no fumbling this time.”

“Oh well, that why quite the growth spurt, huh?”

“And when is there gonna be a Mrs. Rogers?”

Steve Rogers had finally stopped fighting his heart, but what was he supposed to do when she was already taken by his best friend. Thus, Steve does one of the things he has always been good that, he pushes his emotions down, though that is easier said than done.

 On the final week of those dance sessions, Steve can’t handle it -- he can’t bare the thought of looking at her smiling and laughing while thinking that his best friend might be a reason for it. Yeah, he loved Bucky like a brother, but the way he had seen her laugh back in the bar was something he had never seen before, something he was sure he could never achieve, especially not now. He had been such a fool and now he was paying the price for it, so he had ran for just bit of reprieve and to lengthen just for a short while the way you were in his life -- that cute dance instructor, instead of Bucky’s possible new girlfriend.

So, he cancelled Monday’s class, but it was useless.

As it got closer to his time to leave, he kept staring at the clock. His hands wriggled in annoyance and anxiety, unsure of what he was going to do once his shift ended. Steve knew what he usually did --go home, shower, nap-- but after going to the same place for such a long time, Steve wasn’t sure what to do. He was a creature of habit after all.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna head to class?” Bucky questions, coming out of the changing room, wearing a black jacket, white v-neck and dark jeans -- his usual dating outfit.

“Nah, not today,” Steve shakes his head, blue meeting blue, as he questions, “Where are you heading?”

“A date...with my neighbor,” Bucky says shyly, which catches Steve off guard. He had never in all his life seen Bucky being sheepish about a date before, clearly Steve would have to ask him about it later , but for now there was something more important thumping in his head.

“What about--” Steve is ready to get up and ask about her, but Bucky stops him beforehand -- clearly not wanting to get into any trouble before his big date.

“I never went on a date with her,” Bucky confesses, as Steve lets out a relieved sigh, “Simply an info session with Becca and Nance, but Stevie��”

“What?”

“If you’re head over heels about this gal like I think ya are,” Bucky sighs out, like he knows from experience, “Don’t waste anymore time.”

Bucky says those magic words, the ones that Steve had always told himself as a younger man and he’s off, taking his bag and running towards the exit as his best friend chuckles before getting ready for his own big night.

 He is twenty minutes earlier than his usual start and he knows that you won’t give him a lesson after he had cancelled, you were strict about that sort of thing. Steve can tell that when Maria gives him a frown as he enters, but he stops her scolding by simply stating that he wants to see one of your other classes as its happening. She raises on single eyebrow at him before telling him to follow her.

Down the opposite side of the hall, a completely different type of music is playing and that’s when Maria stops, only motioning him to walk towards the door. Steve does so, as she leaves shaking her head, and he is floored by the sight. You stretching with a group of young, possibly older elementary aged girls, giggling as class comes to an end.  

“Eyes up,” you clap together with the young girls, as they follow suit, “Stay sharp.”  

Some of the girls get up and look at Steve leaning on the doorway, but you are too busy talking to some of the other girls surrounding you, asking questions as you give them pointers mixed with praises here and there. You laugh with them for a moment, as Steve can hear parents calling for their children down the hallway and that’s when you turn up to look at him with the girls.

“Who’s that, miss?” one of the girls behind you asks.

“Is that your boyfriend?” another one pipes in and Steve couldn’t help but wish that were true. Instead, you reprimand them lightly and push them past the blond and running into the hallway. You turn to look at him and frown.

“I hope you’re not here for a lesson,” you cross your hands over your chest and even if you’re scolding him, Steve loves that look burning in your eyes, “You cancelled, ‘member?”

“I know,” he states bashfully while rubbing the back of his neck, “But, I was hoping to ask ya for something else.”

“What?” you question, but if he heard closely enough Steve could hear the little uptick in your voice full of excitement and suspense.

“If I could take you out to dinner.”

Part 5 

[seven-tarot-blog]

Seven of Wands

The seven of wands is a call to action.

Are you advocating for yourself? For your beliefs? For your communities? How are you using your power, privilege and visibility? Are you adopting a me versus the world mentality, or working on fostering collective action? What needs to be manifested? Do it. Make it happen.

This is the card that inspired this project. This card called me to be vulnerable and speak my truth with courage. This card was a call to let my long experience with tarot blossom into a more public space to be shared. With that comes vulnerability but also visibility. So before anything else, thanks for reading.

I’m showing four different cards from four different decks that I use and discussing their meanings. At the bottom I’ll include tips for interpretation, some helpful astrological correspondences, and card combinations.

First off is the Seven of Keys from the Collective Tarot. It shows is a group of people organizing and protesting before the state. It shows people organizing themselves and acting on what they believe. They have burned the lock their keys are supposed to fit into. It is a call for no more fitting in.

The Seven of Wands, like all cards, also has a more complicated side. Rebecca Schoenecker's Laughing Eye Weeping Eye tarot card reflects a harsher aspect. It shows the person with the voice and visibility being a policing, oppressive figure. The power this card urges us towards can take many shapes. What we do with it is our choice and our responsibility.

The Seven of Wands from the classic Smith-Waite is ambiguous. It calls for advocacy and power but raises a question: are the people at the bottom of the hill trying to topple and overtake the person at the top? Are they all a team and the person at the top is serving as a leader? Is this representing a me versus them mentality, or is it calling for personal advocacy and accountability in group leadership—representing its members and caring for the group’s wellbeing?

Is it both? Binaries like easy/difficult, good/bad, lucky/unlucky, get very blurry the deeper you dive into tarot cards. We can at once hold a grandiose, romantic, and potentially egotistical me versus the world vision *and* still strive to unify and represent a group whose voice needs to be heard. And with that position of power we can be incredibly uplifting to some people and also oppressive to others.

The more abstract Seven of Wands from The Ok Tarot by Adam JK highlights a less specific meaning. It simply points. It suggests action with direction, as a group. It resembles geese flying in a V formation, which speaks about leadership not as the one leading the many, but as a complex system of relations and distribution of power that brings about focused, directed action.

The Collective Tarot card does not necessarily show a leader ruling “over” the rest of the crowd. The focus is placed on the person in a wheelchair faced us directly, proudly. There is often fear and doubt lurking behind the call of the Seven of Wands. Showing up for yourself, your communities and what you believe in leads to a very vulnerable position. Occupying this position takes a lot of courage.

The seven of wands is not necessarily a card of beginnings but rather of fruition. Something that is already in existence needs to blossom into power.

Astrological Correspondence:

The Seven of Wands is closely related to the energy of Mars. I often hear Mars talked about as something to control, or something that isn’t desired because of its association with masculinity, war, impulse, and fire. I think there is a great potential in this association to re-think our relationship with this energy and what it has come to represent.

Initiating things, launching a project, and advocating for what you believe means stepping into a very vulnerable place. This nakedness is what Mars represents. Mars brings courage and visibility along with vulnerability and instability. As always, what to do with that courage is our choice. You can chose to finally call out a manager who has been hurting you and you coworkers with their actions. You can bravely chose to not do something, perhaps not to fall into habitual, automatic patterns.

I tend to put too much on my plate. The ten of wands is a card that comes up for me constantly. Overwhelmed with everything I’ve picked up I’m often exhausted and irritable. I draw on the energy of Mars to take a firm stance with myself and learn to say no to myself and others. I will not take on a new project.

I often associate my self worth with how much I’m doing. Saying no to a fun exciting new project means being faced with this question of my own self-esteem. If I am not doing something constantly, where is my value derived from? This is the moment of vulnerability. After channeling Mars in that moment, I then turn to Venus to heal, rebuild, rethink, care and nurture myself in this vulnerable place.

Interpretation Questions:

The subject of these questions will depend on the reading. If it’s you, then ask these questions of yourself.

When the Seven of Wands comes up in a reading, no matter the orientation, ask yourself:

Whose voice is being heard the most?

How is power being used?

Who/what is silencing? Who/what is being silenced? This may be you silencing aspects of yourself—it often is both internal and external.

What needs to be advocated for?

When it is upright:

Where am I being called to action?

Where should I become more vulnerable?

What do I need to bring to fruition?

When it is reversed:

How am I misusing my own power?

Who is fighting too hard, wearing themselves down?

Where is there a me versus them mentality?

Is there a situation where someone needs to step down and let other voices be heard? This may be because their energy as a leader has been exhausted and they need to retreat to a place of being cared for.

Card combinations:

Look at other cards in the spread for more hints about what this card is referring to.

If there are cups around, think about the charisma it takes to be a leader. An ace of cups crossing a seven of wands would indicate to me that it is time to be empathetic and emotionally present to understand the needs of the situation, and then act with charisma, diplomacy, intuition, and creativity.

If there are more wands relating to this card look specifically at what actions you can take to jump start this process. Specifically the five of wands, and fives in general, would be an interesting card to look for, since it is often signaling the origin or root of the conflict that is now calling for action.

Swords can often signal caution and care in how to proceed. You might need to pay special attention to your mental health in the process, or there may be a lot of complicated word games between you and your goal—read the fine print, chose your words wisely, take time to check in with yourself.

Pentacles can signal that the result of taking the action that the seven of wands is calling for will yield a stable, grounded situation. It also could point to a process that might proceed slowly but eventually will yield fruits. For more information regarding what that might be look at that card specifically.

With the court cards there might be a person with that card’s qualities that will be relevant to the process that the seven of wands is calling attention to. The knight of pentacles, for example, would signal someone who is very hard working and meticulous, but still grounded, practical and driven, who might support the achievement of the goal indicated by the seven of wands.

When paired with major arcana cards think of what part of the major arcana card needs to be acted on and manifested in the world. What aspect of that card is the seven of wands calling to action?

Thank you for reading

Much much love 🌸

[nailriddenbat]

Mayfield | Series - Pt. VI

Summary: Max Mayfield and Billy Hargrove aren’t the only new kids to step foot into Hawkins. Meet Y/N Mayfield, Max’s big sister, who’s here to make sure no one messes with her sister.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Mayfield!Reader (SLOW BURN)

Characters: Y/N Mayfield, Max Mayfield, Billy Hargrove, Rebecca Montgomery (OC)

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: TAGS HAVE BEEN MOVED TO THE END OF THE POST!

A/N: So Y/N gets some much needed comfort in this chapter. Everyone needs a friend to help them get through the tough stuff and Y/N is no different. I’m also super excited because there is some development and everything is going to go to shit right after this. sorry not sorry. ENJOY MY LOVES.

Parts: Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X (FINALE) 

You laid out on your bed as you stared up at the ceiling. You had barely spoken since the previous day, when you had stupidly decided to tell your life story to Steve Harrington. You cried an obscene amount and Steve just stood with you until you pulled yourself away. He tried to get you to talk but you had urged him to leave and go make up with Nancy, and then you had run off and locked yourself in your room.

They say that talking about any life changing experience was supposed to help you heal, but what they don’t say is that sometimes reopening that wound hurts more than when you first got it.

Outside of your room you could hear music playing obnoxiously loud. Billy was home for the day working out while you and Max stayed in your respective rooms.

You heard a light knock on the door and turned your head, but you didn’t move from the bed. A few seconds later the door opened slowly and Max poked her head in. “You cool if I come in?”

You nodded your head and she stepped in, closing the door behind her. You turned your head around and looked back up at the ceiling and soon she joined you. You watched as she dropped the skateboard to your bed and you sat up quickly, “Jesus, kid. What’s with the duct tape?”

“You like it?” she grinned a little.

“Let me buy you a new one. Early Christmas gift and whatnot,” you sighed as you looked over at her.

“No, no,” she said. “I think it adds character to it.”

You laughed a little and dropped back down to your bed as she laid next to you.

“So are you going to tell me why you locked yourself up in your bedroom all night and day?” Max wasted no time in addressing your issue.

“Max, I hate unloading my shit onto you. You’re too young for my drama,” you turned your head to look at her.

“And you’re not old enough to be treating me like I’m some baby. I understand a lot more than anyone thinks I do,” Max went back at you.

“I hate that you’re so smart,” you groaned loudly and covered your face. “I told Steve about George.”

“What?” Max sat up straight in the bed and looked down at you with wide eyes. “Steve? Steve with the hair?”

“Yeah Steve with the hair,” you said yes and dropped your hands, not even noticing the small smile that had crossed your face for a brief second as you said his name.

“How’d it go?” Max asked you.

You shrugged, “Just peachy. I feel like an idiot for unloading that entire thing on him. I barely know who he is and I just... told him everything.”

“Well did he say anything to you?”

“Of course not, Max,” you snorted. “What the hell could anyone say to a story like that? He hugged me, said it wasn’t my fault, all that sentimental shit.”

“He’s right, Y/N. It’s not your fault,” Max agreed with Steve completely. 

“It’s not that simple,” you shook your head slowly.

You both turned your heads to the door when you heard the doorbell ring, but you both ignored it.

“How is it not that simple?” Max asked you.

You went to answer her question but the doorbell rang again. 

“Let me guess, I wouldn’t understand,” Max stood up from the bed and narrowed her eyes at you.

“Max I was not going to say that,” you sighed as you pushed yourself up from the bed. “Look...”

The doorbell continued to ring and soon you both could hear Billy scream, “Max are you getting that or what?”

“Okay!” Max screamed back at him.

The doorbell rang again and the two of you moved towards the door as Billy continued to scream, “Swear to God, Max!”

Max stomped forward at a faster pace than you and you dragged your feet. You leaned against the frame of the archway and looked over at Billy with a bored expression as he continued to do his reps. 

“Macho, macho man,” you sang under your breath, but it was loud enough for him to hear it. Your eyes darted up when you saw the front door close quickly. 

He glared over at you as he left his cigarette hanging from his lips.

“I’m pretty sure smoking while working out is not recommended,” you said to him.

“Do I look like I give a shit?”

“Clearly not,” you snorted. 

“Are you just gonna stand there and watch me the entire time?” Billy asked you as he leaned back.

“I’m actually hoping your hands slip and you drop the weight on your chest, that’s not something I’d want to miss,” you continued to taunt him. 

“Aw,” Billy smirked. “Are you saying you have a crush on me? That’s cute.  Too bad you’re a dead weight on this family, Mayfield. Oh wait... that’s Georgie.”

Your face twisted into the glare that was reserved just for him. “You’re a piece of shit, you know that?”

He ignored you as he set the weights down and then he stood up slowly, looking over at the door. You stood up straight and you felt your body grow tense. “Don’t you have more reps to do, Hargrove?”

He continued to ignore you and walked forward, popping up a beer can as he did.

You stepped forward quickly, ready to jump in front of him if he were to reach out for the door. Luckily you didn’t have to, as Max ran right back in just in time. She went to walk past him but he shot his arm up, blocking her path. “Who the hell were you talking to?” he asked in a low voice.

“It’s none of your business,” you tried to interject.

Max looked up at him for a few seconds before speaking calmly, “Mormons.”

You watched as he blew smoke in her face. “Mormons?”

She nodded her head and said, “Talkative ones.” After that she pushed past his arm and he looked after her before walking over to the front door, yanking it open.

“What are you gonna do, Billy? Beat the mormons up?” you rolled your eyes at him and went to go check on Max, ignoring the phone that was now ringing.

Billy grew agitated at the constant distractions and yanked the phone from the wall, shouting into it, “What do you want?”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady, Hargrove,” Billy’s head perked up when he heard the familiar voice that he hadn’t heard since he left California.

He grinned slowly and leaned against the wall, “Is this Rebecca Montgomery?”

You spun around quickly when you heard the name of your friend and rushed back down the hall.

“Is this my favorite chain-smoking asshole?” Rebecca grinned into the phone.

“It is,” his eyes moved up when he saw you turn the corner and he winked over at you. “Does someone miss me?”

“Only every night, one hand on a romance novel and the other-”

Billy couldn’t hear what Rebecca said next as you jumped forward and tried knocking the phone out of his hand. He held it up over your head before stepping back and speaking into the phone, “What took you so damn long to call then? Don’t tell me you replaced me already, babe.”

“Give me the damn phone, Hargrove!” you started to yell.

“Babe?” Rebecca snorted. “Jesus, last time it was princess. Who replaced me in that hick town?”

“Oh trust me,” he hummed into the phone. “You are irreplaceable.”

“Give me the fucking phone!” you tried to grab the phone again and you punched his arm, which earned you a glare.

“Fuck off, Mayfield,” he practically growled at you.

You flipped him off and Billy turned back to the phone, listening as Rebecca clicked her tongue at him. She said, “Down boy. I called for Y/N, not you.”

His face fell and he turned to you suddenly, shoving the phone into your chest roughly. “It’s for you,” he muttered before storming off to his bedroom and you listened as the door slammed shut.

“You sure pissed him off,” you said into the phone.

“He’ll get over it. I’ll call back later to piss off Neil and give Billy a reason to turn that frown upside down.”

You leaned back against the wall and covered your face, feeling your eyes water as you heard your best friend’s voice. “Oh it is so good to hear your voice right now,” you sighed. “I feel like I’m going insane over here.”

“What’s up, buttercup? Hawkins got you down? I’m just two planes a shitty bus ride away,” she tried laughing lightly to cheer you up.

You snorted a little, “You’d lose it within five seconds of being here. Stay there in sunny California.”

“Come home to me then,” Rebecca shouted into the phone. “Unless something is keeping you there? Hell, bring Max back too.”

“If only it were that simple,” you sighed loudly and dropped to sit on the floor, the cord of the phone stretching. “I think Max is starting to make friends so I’ll leave her be. One of us had to make the best of this, so I’m glad it’s her.”

“What’s going on? Is Neil worse than he was? Is he making Billy worse?” Rebecca asked. 

She would always get nervous and worried over Billy. You couldn’t understand it but you didn’t question it. 

“Neil is just a dick. Always has been, always will be. And as for Hargrove, well, let’s just say that since I’ve come back I’ve slapped him, burnt him with a cigarette, and threatened his life on a daily basis. Sorry.”

You listened as your friend sighed into the phone and whispered, “Christ.” It went quiet for a minute before she spoke up again, “Did something happen to you? I thought I’d get a call a week ago.”

You found yourself focusing on a piece of lint stuck to your ripped jeans. You took a deep breath before exhaling, “I spoke about George yesterday and I don’t know how to feel about it.”

Again, silence.

“What prompted that?” Rebecca asked slowly.

“Steve Harrington, the guy with the good hair,” you sighed into the phone and leaned your head back against the wall. “He’s this stupid, blazer wearing guy in my class and he pops up occasionally to check in on me because I drove him home after he drank too much at a party.”

“And what did Blazer Boy have to say?”

You clenched your jaw as you could feel your eyes start to burn. You held the phone away from your ear so she couldn’t hear you breathe in sharply. “He uh,” you cleared your throat as you held the phone back to your ear. “He said it wasn’t my fault. What happened to George wasn’t my fault. Then he hugged me and stuff and I just walked away after a while. No big deal.”

“Oh wow, you should marry him,” Rebecca said. You could see her face in your mind and you knew she was grinning. “When should I buy my maid of honor dress?”

“Oh please,” you scoffed. “He’s trying to make up with his girlfriend, so that is not happening. Like ever. Not that I want it to or anything.”

“You should at least talk to him, Y/N,” Rebecca sighed into the phone. “Don’t ice the guy out, he sounds like the only one in Hawkins who isn’t a total dick, your step brother included in that. As much as it pains me to say, you know my sordid past with William Hargrove.”

You snorted at that comment and bit your tongue. She was the only one who dared to call him William.

She ignored your snort and continued on, “But seriously, don’t avoid this Steve guy. Good scenario, you have a friend who is just as amazing as me in Indiana. Even better scenario... well let’s say the girlfriend becomes an ex.”

You shook your head, disagreeing with everything, “Nah. I’m just a girl who has panic attacks and who constantly cries now. There’s nothing appealing about that. I’m sure once he brought flowers to her yesterday, their fight was totally forgotten about. And I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t do that to George.” That was another problem you were having. Your boyfriend was laying six feet under the ground and you were thinking about the boy who looked insanely good in black ray bans. It was insulting and you didn’t feel right.

“George is dead,” she was blunt and you pressed your palm against your eyes. “And I pray to God he won’t be undead any time soon. I know you don’t want to hear it, but healing is going to take moving past him. He’ll always have a place in your heart, but I know how big it is. There’s room for someone else.

“Yeah, maybe...” you whispered slowly. “You doing okay in California?” It was a cheap shot at changing the subject but you gave it a shot as you pushed yourself off the ground.

“Clearly not. I miss my best friend and I want to help her. Please do something for yourself and take a damn chance for once,” she continued to press the subject.

“I’ll see, Rebecca,” you nodded your head as you spoke with a weak voice. 

“Perfect! Then I take the cue and change the subject to this bitch Miranda that you left me with,” Rebecca started to shout into the phone.

You started to laugh in the phone and for the next hour, you and Rebecca stood on the phone catching up. You felt better than you had all day and you could feel your body growing lighter. It was just what you needed and you continued to smile, blissfully ignorant of the trouble brewing in Hawkins.

Tags (PLEASE message me if you want to be added to the permanent tag list for any fic/tag list for this particular series, especially if you already asked and I forgot!): @thegirlwhoisintoomanyfandoms @la-fille-en-aiguilles @jj-writes-shit @thebitterbookeater @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli @richletozler  @royalwolfhard @just-smile-darling @w-ingardiumleviosa @buckysmaingirl @magic-and-timetravel  @jupiter-leo @ttrraasshh @somekryptonitewriting @dudee-what  @tmalchow @hedabucky @wallacetdog @harringtonhuddle @sarcasticalphaofthelooserspack @kingkenzieo @twelvedacrewoods @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed @stevieboyharrington @madhatterweasley @captainelsaeverdeen @cupcaitlyn96 @anton-shudders @trashyemonerd @netflix-and-cuddles @earthvsjai @goimaginethiss @inhumanz @athenalesage @pan-space-cowboy @caitsymichelle13 @juliroseennis @stressedoutkylo @slythxr @way-obsessed5 @gingerfangirlthefeels @marslovesme @sweetheartmendes @spacecowgrrrl @letstacoaboutnutellaa @doomed-vodka @negroneon @lola-winston-harrington @annasbulletjournal @idk-5sos-bye @me-a-hopeless-romantic @sofver@altreble @brightestgrangers @pity-mee @xbrandix17 @marvelgirl2118 @everything-intertwined @mychemicaltessa @bitchin-momjeans @sparkles-of-youthfulness @artisticlales @runningwitches @andyhurleyquinn @kenzie-is-still-here @xguardiangel @bloggerwithaheadache @pugsandkisses14 @rowenonhome1 @andyhurleyquinn @bitchinmouthbreather @spacemarkimoo @nikkie-cherish @daniimiss @flopmalum @lexannani @girlofmanyfandoms15 @mischievousweasleys @notalxx @runningwitches @thephantomofthe-internet @thatonenerdybandkid @solaestheti-c @fl0werb0nes18 

[lashesofsakula]

Rebecca Sugar’s Queer Universe

Here are the notes from my presentation on Rebecca Sugar and queer theory in Steven Universe.

Today I’m going to talk about Rebecca Sugar, an american animator born in Maryland in 1987 who graduated from the School of Visual Arts in New York. She worked for several years on Adventure Time, where she  wrote some of the best loved songs of the series including: “Making Bacon Pancakes”, “Daddy why did you eat my fries” and “Everything Stays”. At the same time she started work on Steven Universe, which premiered on Cartoon Network in 2013. She is the first and only woman to have her own show on the network.

Steven Universe is about a kid called Steven, who lives with three aliens: Amethyst, Garnet and Pearl - the four of them together are the Crystal Gems.

They live in a temple, next to Beach City. (The backgrounds to this show are incredible.) where they spend most of their time saving the earth from being invaded and colonised by hostile gems from their home planet.

They also spend a fair amount of time eating doughnuts, going on road trips, practicing fighting and learning about friendship, love, community and all that good stuff.

Each crystal gem, is a distinct character, in the superhero tradition each have their own weapon and way of fighting. In order to make themselves more powerful they can join together to make a fusion who embodies the powers of the gems that make her up. All the gems are referred to by female pronouns, but as projections of light they can’t really be said to have a gender. Fun fact: the animators worked out what the fusions would look like by playing the game exquisite corpse, where you fold up a piece of paper and different person draws each part of the body, until you unfold it to see what the thing looks like as a whole.

Rebecca Sugar uses her cartoon to explicitly talk about different kinds of genders and relationships. When asked about this in an interview with The Verge, she says:

So much of the preexisting language for cartoons is heavily gendered. For example, how many cartoon couples are two identical characters, except one has eyelashes and a bow? This is the time and this is the tool to expand people's visual language when it comes to what a couple looks like, and to create gender nonconforming characters that are so compelling that you can't deny their humanity. *

If you look at Mickey and Minnie mouse or Mr and Mrs Potato Head there is nothing essential in the characters that genders them, they are merely accessorized in such a way to signal that they are male of female. What happens when we remove those accessories? Does the system of binary gender disintegrate?

In her book, Undoing Gender, Judith Butler describes the performance of gender as follows:

If gender is a kind of doing, an incessant activity performed, in part, without one’s knowing and without one’s willing, it is not for that reason automatic or mechanical. On the contrary, it is a practice of improvisation within a scene of constraint. Moreover, one does not “do” one’s gender alone. One is always doing with or for another, even if the other is only imaginary.**

Here, Butler separates the idea of gender from that of biological sex. Gender is not to do with what our bodies look like; but rather it is the place where what we project out into the world, and what the world recognises in us, comes together. We enact our gender everyday in the way we move around and interact with the world and because everyone’s performance is different, then it follows there must be as many genders as there are people to enact them.

In Steven Universe, Rebecca Sugar shows us the expansiveness of gender and its myriad presentations. In Sadie’s Song Steven dresses up in drag to perform a show stopping hit at the Beach City talent show. Unlike many other cartoons, this is not played for laughs. Steven totally smashes the set and the fact that he is wearing a dress is not even commented on.

In Alone Together, Steven and his best friend Connie fuse to form the genderqueer character Stevonnie. We witness the exhilaration that Stevonnie feels in their body that is neither male nor female, but also the confusion of the humans who encounter them. Where the gems are excited, and celebrate Steven and Connie’s fusion, the human characters are uncomfortable with Stevonnie and they don’t seem to know why.

This is highlighted because while she celebrates the diversity of gender, Sugar doesn’t brush over the fact that it is far from easy to slip outside of the gender binary.

In Undoing Gender, Judith Butler describes how “social norms” are used to police our performance of gender and that we have to choose whether to resist or submit to these in order to live what she calls a “livable life”. How much will it cost us in violence, abuse and/or invisibility to transgress these norms? How much will we be dehumanised, isolated or unfulfilled by remaining within them?

If I am a certain gender, will I still be regarded as part of the human? Will the “human” expand to include me in its reach? If I desire in certain ways, will I be able to live? Will there be a place for my life and will it be recognizable to the others upon whom I depend for social existence? ***

We rely upon others to recognise us, and thus recognition becomes a site of power for those who seek to give or withhold it.

Steven Universe shows this struggle in the episode Fusion Cuisine. Steven’s best friend Connie tells her parents that Steven is part of a normal nuclear family, so that they will let her hang out with him. But they become suspicious at never meeting his parents and ask them to come to dinner with them. Steven wants to bring all three of the crystal gems who play the role of mother to him - but Connie tells him he has to choose just one. Steven lines up the gems and asks them: "Which of you would make the best and most nuclear mum?" (see clip: Fusion Cuisine 2:40) We see Steven trying to force his queer multi-gendered family into a nuclear mold that they can not possibly fit.

In the end they decide all three gems will fuse, to be one mother. This totally fails to convince Connie’s parents that they are “normal”. The fusion, does not know how to behave at a human dinner party - they are too big, too loud, too “uncivilised”:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U_3zuh6QjfM

And this is where I think the show goes beyond the mere representation of gender non normative characters and enters the realm of queerness. To explain what I mean by this, I want to start with a couple of short definitions of queer theory - while acknowledging that it is a huge and varied field of which I will only brush the surface:

“For scholars influenced by queer theory, “queer” names or describes identities and practices that foreground the instability inherent in the supposedly stable relationship between anatomical sex, gender, and sexual desire” ****

“Queer is by definition, whatever is at odds with the normal, the legitimate, the dominant” *****

Queer theory uses the non-normative as an entry point for discussion, it flips the script on “social norms” and “societal expectations” by questioning their legitimacy. Through queer theory we are able to observe the world from a whole other angle, where the the “normal” or “natural” ceases to be so and it’s weirdness is fully exposed.

As a quick example lets look through a queer lens at the way gender is constructed in our society: babies genitals are glanced at at birth and whatever the doctor believes they have identified determines the shape of that child’s life: from the clothes they will wear, to our expectations of their intelligence and athleticism, to their paycheck when they enter the workplace. This is patently ridiculous, and causes huge amounts of pain and suffering to humans of all genders who are forced into the system, and yet it is widely accepted as both “normal” and “natural” in societies across the globe.

Judith Butler argues that “the capacity to develop a critical relation to these norms presupposes a distance from them, an ability to suspend or defer for them'. In Steven Universe, Sugar achieves this distance is by having the main characters LITERALLY come from another planet. The earth is alien to them and so they see it without the normalising filter that we do: everything that humans do is strange to them and the gems continuously question things that to the humans in the show and the audience seem completely obvious. In an interview on Hot Topic, Rebecca Sugar explains that this idea underlies the entire series:

It’s always been our theory of the show, this sort of reverse escapism theory, which is that a fantasy world and fantasy characters became interested in real life and wanted to participate in that and Steven is the son of a human being and a crystal gem and he’s the product of fantasy having this love affair with reality. And all the imperfections of real life could be beautiful and fascinating to someone and those are things that are exotic and foreign and interesting to these characters who are used to the impossible perfection of their fantasy world. ******

So the gems alienness coupled with their non-normative genders and relationships give them a queer perspective on the earth. This scene between Peridot, Steven and Amythyst - shows the potential comedy of such a scenario:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oKBCW8Hcl4k

When we compare these moments with the scene with Connie’s parents we see the multiple ways in which characters are “alienated” from their surroundings. But this alienation is not always painful, sometimes it creates comedy and sometimes it enables the gems to see the beauty in things that humans have long taken for granted.

In conclusion, much has been made of representation in this show, which is part of what has garnered it it’s HUGE internet following. Representation is important: being able to see yourself reflected in these worlds can be life changing for children and adults alike. But I think Steven Universe goes even further: it doesn’t just SHOW us admirable non-normative characters, but the show embodies a queer perspective on the world we live in, in all its humour, terribleness and beauty.

Footnotes:

* Rebecca Sugar, quoted by Kwame Opam, (2017), Steven Universe creator Rebecca Sugar on animation and the power of empathy, https://www.theverge.com/2017/6/1/15657682/steven-universe-rebecca-sugar-cartoon-network-animation-interview

** Judith Butler, (2004), Undoing Gender, New York and London: Routledge, p.1

*** Judith Butler, (2004), Undoing Gender, New York and London: Routledge, p.3

**** Robert J.Corber and Stephen Valocchi (2003) Queer Studies, An interdisciplinary Reader, Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, p.1

***** Nikki Sullivan (2003) A critical introduction to Queer Theory, Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, p.3

******  Rebecca Sugar in Hot Topic interview, 2014, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9rQlh0KxYo (2.10)

[secondsofhappiness]

Yes it's me! Hannah (🙏) so lovely that your back, I'm really good thanks, and am coping (HA!) really well with all this Bex nonsense- I agree she's just irrelevant now - I just want her gone, if the baby's gonna stay and be Robs she best be leaving - I feel like I've weathered the storm and we are coming out the other side so I'm hoping the future looks good for Robron (for how long who knows?) ill always be slightly more cynical and prepared for it not to be tho! 😉 🙏 x

That’s the spirit! How very British of us?!

I am strangely enjoying it all. Especially Ryan’s performance. God this whole thing could be so pantomime and awful and yet it’s actually got some depth and complexity and it’s because of him. He’s keeping this all afloat tbh…!

The Rob/Larry fever dream episode was… yeah… but it was actually incredible too.

Again, it could have been horribly over the top and granted the bed scene was something none of us ever should have had to live through… but the bits before it were bloody genius!

It was twisted as hell but that’s what Rob and Lawrence have always been. Hand down I’ve always said one of my favourite scenes is Rob/Lawrence back in the day where Rob threatens him and tells Larry he knows he fancies him. That scene still gives me shivers and so before Larry shucks off his mortal coil or whatever is going to happen to him, we were owed one last session of Rob and Lawrence weirdness. When Rob was actually opening up to him and being honest and genuine and actually VENTING but all the while drugging Lawrence and ruining his life… Rob was using his OWN blackmail and weirdo fan fiction of some bloke and his dogs shacked up with Ronnie to relate to Lawrence, to talk about his troubles and to offload about his heartbreak about Aaron and Dr Floppy Hair… can you believe?

It was amazing. I was laughing the entire time and then the staircase scene… definitely one of my favourites in a long time. Rob’s fake laugh with him looking like he was ready to smash Larry’s skull when he was talking about finding a doctor. Hahahahaha.

It’s also the most nervous I’ve been for a long long time watching the show because I wasn’t entirely sure they weren’t going to have them sleep together and there is no way on this earth I’d have been able to accept that… Lawrence is the worst. The actual empirical Worst in ED characters. I’m happy watching Rob’s downward spiral into insanity but actually achieving the hat trick would have been MENTAL.

So yeah. I’m loving it hahaha. The new addition of Chrissie is exciting. Rob’s jaw clench and the fact he thought he had it all organised with dirt on them all (Lawrence and Lachlan) or some form of emotional blackmail (Rebecca)… but now Chrissie is there and she doesn’t swallow his nonsense and he knows it. Ryan nailed that scene - right?? :)

Wow rant! I am happy you’re chill and looking forward to stuff too. I’m well up for Mr Romantic Hero Rob to make an appearance again but I am weirdly enjoying the White Family Goodbye Tour, mainly because they’re going to crumble in a heap and there’s NO OTHER WAY for a HF family to go. It’s one of my favourite parts of ED.

I also CANNOT wait for the up coming Coira and also Ness/Charity (my brain hasn’t registered that yet). Still holding out for more Leyla and David and Jake and I am entirely smitten still with Lydia so yeah, I am happy to be back chatting nonsense about our show!!!!

It’s so lovely to chat again. I am SO PLEASED you’re still here :) sorry for disappearing a few months back, but I am v much myself again and happy to be back!

[notprincehamlet]

tecklenburg misadventures & meeting pia again: a post

August 13.

11 am. I come to the Düsseldorf train station to leave for Tecklenburg.

11:15 am. Turns out my train, of all trains, is five minutes late. Interesting.

12 am. Someone kicks me out of the seat because they booked it. After that I start realizing I will probably miss the second train because this one was late in the first place. Mild fear begins to settle in.

1 pm. The train arrives. I jump out and see that my other train has not left yet. I sprint down and up the stairs with my heavy-ass suitcase in two seconds. I make it to the train. Some guys are laughing at me. Then I see the info board. Turns out this train was also late. It doesn't leave the station for the next ten minutes. I begin to get the jokes about Deutsche Bahn.

2 pm. I arrive to Lengerich. Now I only need to catch the bus to Tecklenburg. I see two buses approaching but I'm not sure if any of them is mine. I have to check. By the time I finish checking, both of the buses have left. One of them was definitely mine.

2:30 pm. I find the bus schedule on the wall. Apparently, the next bus will only come in two hours because it's Sunday. I want to punch myself in the face. The station is eerily quiet. I sigh, sit down and start rereading Rebecca.

2:45 pm. A taxi drives by to the taxi parking. The driver and I exchange glances. I'm not sure if I should do this and spend the money on a taxi. But what if the bus doesn't come and this guy also leaves?

3 pm. My anxiety and I approach the driver. "Sprechen Sie Englisch?" I ask hopefully - hope is always the last to die, after all. "No". Hope dies in agony. "Können Sie mich nach Tecklenburg fahren?" He can. We drive.

3:15 pm. The hotel door is locked. This can't be happening. I start pushing every button I can find on the wall because I’m smart like that.

3:16 pm. A man parks his car nearby and comes to the door, carrying some boxes. I ask him if he knows how to enter, adding the shameful "Ich spreche aber fast kein Deutsch" at the end of my sentence. Turns out he works here.

3:20 pm. The key to my room is missing. I love adventures. The room, however, isn’t locked, so I can at least come inside and get ready for Rebecca. "Der Schlüssel kommt später," says the guy. Cue nervous laughter.

4 pm. I come down to ask if anyone has found the key. Nope. Someone, however, is gonna come in an hour, and that someone apparently has the key. I start googling mild German insults, just in case.

6 pm. I come down to leave for Rebecca and see the key hanging on the board behind the counter. The girl (she speaks English) hands it to me. "Sorry, I found it too late", the woman next to me says, also in English. She is beautiful. I'm gay and not angry anymore. She tells me to open the front door with the same key because it will be late when I return from the musical. She asks me if I would like to have breakfast tomorrow from 8 to 10. Maybe I would but I’m too gay to think about it right now. On that bright note I lock my door and leave.

***

I did manage to come earlier, which was nice after all the nightmares I'd had about being late to Rebecca (yeah, I guess being a bit late to Elisabeth in June took a toll on me). It was such a nice weather and I'm SO grateful for it, especially since it had been raining so hard the night before. Tbh I’d been kinda skeptical about the production at first becase it looked so different from the Stuttgart one and I thought the costumes looked ugly but my friends told me I’d definitely like it (especially if I didn’t rewatch the Stuttgart production - which I didn’t). AND SURPRISE, I LOVED IT. Let me just say I will never doubt open air productions again. Everything was so cleverly done imo and I loved the changes made to adapt to the demands of an open air stage and the costumes didn’t look so ugly in person :”) I would’ve loved it even if it hadn’t been Gay™ and that’s huge because Gayness was my main criteria for this show (i know.... i know)

We all know the main reason I came there for (Gay Icon Mrs Danvers aka Pia Douwes aka Actual Light of my Life etc etc) but I was really excited to see the rest of the cast. I was curious about Milica since I’d only heard like.. one song of hers. And I loved her (d u h I almost cried during Zeit in einer Flasche), though her Ich seemed a bit too mature for my liking. As for Jan Ammann, I still can’t believe I saw and heard him live, I love one man ;~~; and I don’t know him personally but I.... trust him. Also! He looked more like Laurence Olivier than usual, 10/10 would recommend 😍 I was very much looking forward to Roberta Valentini as well. I love Kerstin Ibald’s Beatrice with all my heart but Roberta was wonderful too, and I think I would’ve picked her Beatrice if I ever had to choose. I’m glad I don’t actually have to choose though C: I also really liked Thomas Hohler, which was a surpise since I’ve never given much thought to him. Guess I gotta check him out in Elisabeth or something.

(there was also this one guy in the ensemble whose face was dead serious the whole time he was dancing and it was h i l a r i o u s. also #mood. and he reminded me of Thomas from Downton Abbey)

Now, to the Love of my Life. Mrs Danvers was Extra Gay in this version, I would like to thank everyone involved in making the gayness happen ;~; the Gay Subtext™ was palpable and I loved every second of it. Pia was amazing and killed it in every song, and by it I mean “IT but also ME”. The stage was pretty big and I died a little every time Pia was upstairs or in Rebecca’s bedroom because I couldn’t see her properly then. Good thing I have a strategy for such cases; it’s called “press glasses as close to your eyes as you can and squint as hard as possible”. Now to (some of) the songs and general moments.

Sie ergibt sich nicht: gay, upstairs, the orchids are red, nice Die lieben Verwandten: ROBERTA AND HER PLAID TWEED LOOKS The scene after Bist du glücklich: the way Danvers asked Ich what she did with the remains of the statue made a Danvers-shaped hole in my heart (and I don’t even like Mrs Danvers l o l)

Danvers: *lurks at the back of the stage looking pensive* Me: *clutches chest* oh my god (was she realy somewhere on stage during Hilf mir durch die Nacht or did I imagine it? or was it during another song? I honestly can’t tell anymore)

Was ist nur los mit ihm: I just listened to it again and almost cried, I love Roberta so much and I loved her in that green dress Sie war gewohnt, geliebt zu werden: THIS IS MY FAVOURITE SONG FROM THIS MUSICAL NO JOKE and I loved the whole setup with Rebecca’s bedroom. Not sure what to think of the whole Favell on top of Danny thing but I had to try very hard to block every association with amateur porn from my mind because EWWWW. In other news: this song is still gay and I  l o v e  it. Rebecca: I REALLY ACTUALLY HONESTLY HEARD IT LIVE CAN YOU BELIEVE IT. ICONIC. Obviously, this song became 198776542x times more gay (I thought it wasn’t possible but here we are) because of that Rebecca shadow thing and Danvers putting the nightgown on her. I had vaguely heard about it and I’d heard it was controversial so I didn’t really know what to think at first. It’s hard to overestimate my undying belief in not having any physical representation of Rebecca at all, and I feel like this wasn’t really necessary, but on the other hand the production didn’t suffer one bit because of it. Plus the Rebecca/Danny shipper in me says YES PLEASE THAT WAS AMAZING. Yeah, I’m pretty biased here (BIased!!!!! get it????/?). Finale erster Akt: I got chills.

Then came the intermission and after an hour of sitting on a wooden bench my lower back was Not Happy.

Rebecca (Reprise): I felt like someone was cutting my heart out of my chest thanks to Pia, plus goosebumps all over Nur ein Schritt: I live for creepy!Pia tbh. And the rocket was real! Have I mentioned I love open air now? Mrs Danvers bin ich: Danvers looked so hurt, m*rder me right now :”) and I was looking forward to hearing Pia shout “Nein” but I got distracted right before it l m a o. Life is hard when you have the attention span of a goldfish. The court scene: I live for this kind of symbolism!!!!!!! The scene where they found out Rebecca was sick and it was like someone stabbed Mrs Danvers when she heard it.... that moment ended me. I thought that was IT. But I knew nothing yet. Ich war ihr nah: WOWZIES. I’m always a sucker for some suffering!Pia, especially when she’s alone on stage. Just. Wow. Her voice. Her acting. She really did THAT. Also...... gay. Jenseits der Nacht & Manderley in Flammen: I LOVED the way they handled the fire!!!! That was the thing I was looking forward to the most. Everything looked so good. Besides, the weather was really cooperating which only added to the atmosphere. My friend had told me I would die and I *was* dying, but then The Scream happened. THAT was when I truly died. The Scream & Rebecca taking Mrs Danvers with her: DID SATAN CREATE THIS? IS THIS A FANFIC OR?? I’M???? #DEAD #SHOOK #SHOOKETH Tbh I was about to crawl to the nearest cemetery, dig my own fucking grave and just lie there. Then again, that moment was absolutely unnecessary from the rational point of view but I enjoyed it SO much and I felt SO emotional that I don’t give a single shit. THAT WAS AMAZING.

***

After the show and multiple bows (I love these people) it was over. And when you leave, you have to walk up the stage and towards the entrance. May have screamed a little when I saw the set up close, may have taken a blurry selfie (or three). Anyways, I found the stagedoor, I found my friends, I managed to burn my finger on some vile stingy plant all within the scope of 30 minutes, and THEN She came out. And She was the sweetest. As always. I just. Talent aside, I will never get over how genuinely NICE and GOOD Pia is. She took her time to talk to everyone, she posed for pictures, she signed everything and she was very excited about her gifts :”) she is such a good person and I honestly can’t deal with the way she radiates that energy.

I wanted to give her a book of translated Russian poetry as a gift, I’d even wrapped it up in craft paper and stuck a “thank you” sticker on it. I wish the book was thinner but it was the only one I found that had most of my favourite poems lol #priorities. I had A LOT of doubts about it but then again, I’m pretty sure it’s not the weirdest gift she’s ever got. So I finally came up to Pia, said hi, gave her the gift, pointed out the “thank you” sticker and explained that it meant “thank you for your work” (her face was so close holy shit). Honestly, I keep saying sorry and thank you every time I meet her lmao but I’m thankful!!! and I’m sorry!!! and I want her to know that!!! what else am I supposed to do!!!! And I *think* I said something about the show being great and her being great in it, but I’m not sure.

Then she was like “and you’re from...?” “Russia”, I told her, not expecting her to remember anything about me. Then she went “Of course! We’ve met before, right?” “We did, yes” “I was gonna say Russia!” WHAT KIND OF FACE MEMORY DOES SHE HAVE OH MY GOD. Well, probably the selective kind, let’s be real here, but this is still unbelievable. As of August 13 it has been a little over a year since our last brief meeting - a year, three months and 12 days but who’s counting? - and after all this time there was something that made her go "wait, I know her” when she saw me ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ And it’s the SECOND time she remembered me so we’re practically married at this point, right? Right??? I replied with something generic like “oh, you remember me? That’s so nice!” yeah, “nice” indeed :“”“) I will be raving about it forever because I honestly can’t believe it keeps happening to me. What have I done to deserve this? Could it be possible to love this woman more? At that particular moment I thought not, but the evening wasn’t over yet. Then this happened:

Me: thank you 😍 Pia, taking the gift: thank you! Me, distracted by her closeness: thank you 😍 Pia, pointedly: thank you for the gift Me: Oh. You’re welcome. (jesus fucking christ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Then she signed my programme and then I almost left without a picture because I was THAT awestruck :’’’’’’’) As we posed, she was standing THIS close to me and she was touching my elbow behind my back all the time we were posing!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You can see how hard I’m trying to conceal my emotions in the pics because um ??? an actual Goddess is touching my arm right this second???? And then she said she appreciates my coming to see her again ♥ I’m sorry but I’m pretty sure being this precious is illegal, I’m gonna have to alert the authorities. Oh, and I’m tattooing every single generic phrase she said on my forehead.

Then I just hung around for a while and even took a good enough picture of my friends and Pia! My hands weren’t shaking like they always do when I feel Emotions!!! I am truly growing.

After a while the crowd started to dissolve a bit and I spontaneously decided to try and ask if I could give her a hug. Yeah, I know, I don’t recognize myself either. And I did ask her, with countless “I’m so sorry”s and “I understand it might be intrusive”s (her face was so close and she was looking at me so intently i’.m!!! dying!! I was Not Prepared) because making her uncomfortable is my worst nightmare. 

And then

she DEADASS GRABBED THE BARE PART OF MY ARM (my sweater covered my elbow but not my forearm so it was a skin to skin contact with the goddess!!!!! I’m a normal person with a normal life and zero obsessions I swear), looked me in the eye and started explaining why she doesn’t normally do it - because, quote, “then she *nods at someone* would wanna do this, and she would wanna do this and I would be here till 3am”. Somehow my brain didn’t shut down completely: all I could feel was her hand on my arm, but I was actually registering what she was saying and I was even ANSWERING stuff like “that’s totally fine, yes, i understand, everyone would want to do this, that’s absolutely fine, thank you so much”. But she honestly has THE SOFTEST hands, it’s literally like touching a cloud, what kind of magic is this (and what kind of hand cream), I couldn’T COPE. SO SOFT. AND SHE WAS SO CLOSE. HER PERFECT FACE. CLOSE TO MINE. SAYING THINGS. SMILING. I LOVE HER. And it seemed that explaining the reason was very important to her and she wasn’t letting go of my arm the whole time 😭 honey….. you don’t have to explain anything to me…. I’m just happy to be here…. And she was looking me in the eye the whole time too. Anyways, I FINALLY timidly put my other hand on top of hers (!!!!!!!!! living that self-insert fanfic life) and told her it was absolutely fine again while trying very hard to conceal my emotions (hahaha who’s freaking out? not me lmao hahaha lol). I LOVE HER SO MUCH WHAT A GODDESS WHAT AN ICON. Not to be dramatic, but I can still feel her calming touch :”) she may have cured my anxiety or something. And yeah, well, I told her it was absolutely fine and she told me to take care and that was it. 

Did I sound like a complete tit? Certainly. Did I still sound more coherent than the other two times I met her? Absolutely. I’m SO proud of myself. Am I still #shook? You bet! I can’t believe life is this good to me. And I’m still very sad I don’t know when I will see Pia again :/ certainly not next year because it’s my final uni year and I’m gonna be busy as shit, plus all these trips are getting expensive. I hope she doesn’t do anything HUGE next year and saves it for the time I can travel again ~

Oh, by the way, it was pitch black almost the whole time I was walking back to the hotel and I even had to pass by a church graveyard. Fucking T*ckl*nburg.

[rkpappas]

This reading provided a nice balance of old and new information. It reviewed a lot of information we had already learned from the previous reading “Ballet: A History in Broad Brushstrokes” by Carol Pardo as well as Rebecca’s online lecture, but it also provided some more detailed information regarding ballet’s emergence and early development. The article discusses notable figures like Beaujoyeulx, the dancing master who made the Ballet Comique, which was considered “the most important early attempt to create an extended choreographic spectacle”, Jean Baptiste Lully, a gifted artist and composer who could make Louis XIV laugh so hard he cried, Pierre Beauchamps, the dancing master responsible for the five positions of the feet, and of course, Louis XIV, the King who supported the development and growth of ballet more than anyone else (32). The article also discusses some of ballet’s early forms, including the ballet a entree, a sequence of independent scenes tied together by an overarching theme, as well as the comedie-ballet, an amalgamation of dance and spoken dialogue. Additionally, the reading explains that many early ballets had underlying messages that related to notable events of the time. In Ballet de la Nuit (1653), for example, a group of thieves attempt to loot a burning house when they are stopped by Aurora and the Rising Sun. Ballet de la Nuit was made two years after a mob invaded the Palais Royal to protest “poor living conditions” (39); the thieves represent the mob, and the Rising Sun represents King Louis. Ballet de la Nuit reminded the people that no matter what, the king would reign supreme. All of this information was exciting to learn, but the one piece of information I found to be particularly interesting actually had to do with the development of the ballet barre. I have always wondered where the barre came from, and this article explains it clearly; as ballet steps became more complicated, dancers required additional support to learn how to execute them. Because of this, ballet masters would have their students hang onto chairs or tightly stretched ropes to facilitate their learning. This eventually led to the development of the barre, which continues to be used daily by dancers everywhere.

Copied below is a link to “Marche pour la ceremonie des Turcs” by Jean Baptiste Lully, which comes from the comedie-ballet Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme. The article states that Lully was a man of many talents; he could act, sing, dance, and play musical instruments, but his greatest talent was composing music. According to the article, Lully was known for his “elegant, sophisticated music”, and this piece exemplifies that (42). With regal instruments like the harpsichord and a steady, driving beat, I picture a procession of wealthy aristocrats when I listen to the song. I imagine regal men walking deliberately in time, with their chests extended and their heads high. Because of this, it does not surprise me that Lully's music was popular among the nobles. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sy-yugPw_X8

Discussion Questions

Do you think ballet would have survived without Louis XIV’s undying support? If so, how might ballet as we know it be different today? If not, why not?

If Louis XIV could rise from the dead and see a ballet performance today, do you think he would like what he saw? Why or why not?