#and it took me so incredibly long to figure out that it was the phrase nasa t-shirts shoved together

[tirednapentity]

I have to admit that until a month or two ago I thought your username was “tired and petty” and I still read it like that sometimes

that's incredible actually because it fits so well. I AM tired and petty. that's my whole personality right there

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)

[sirfrogsworth]

I'm very frustrated. I thought my health had taken a turn for the better when I figured out my heart issue. And I haven't really had any problems specifically with my heart for a while. But for the past 6 weeks I have been stuck in bed unable to do anything physical. I don't feel sick. I'm not in any major pain. There is no real misery. My body just isn't producing enough energy to function. It's a hard feeling to describe. Walking is very hard. Concentration is difficult. Willpower is nonexistent. The energy required to function is just not accessible. I can push myself a little if I need to, but then I have to recover from that and I risk extending how long I am in this state.

I've tried all of the things I usually try when this happens. I make sure to get plenty of sleep. I've been vigilant about taking my meds. I haven't pushed myself. But nothing has worked and I just feel stuck. I really wanted to get out more and get back in touch with friends and maybe even go on another trip to Florida. But all of that has been paused and I am in this liminal low power mode. The only active thing I've done was my Halloween picture and that took me 3 days just to pull off. Working about 20 minutes at a time.

I have so much to do and I'm running out of time to do it. And the things I need to do are incredibly important. Like, "don't end up homeless" important. And I am stuck in bed with no option but to wait until one day my body decides whatever this is has passed.

Plus there is always the fear of the "new normal." Which is probably one of the scariest phrases a person with chronic illness has to contend with. A time when your illness advances to a new state and you have to accept that is just how things are and hopefully find a way to adapt and continue on.

It's not been long enough to accept this as my new normal. But that fear is something I can't put out of my mind.

[fllnrdr]

I would really love for the rdr community as a whole to stop trying, (and failing), to defend Dutch, and shift the blame entirely onto Micah. Red Dead Redemption and Red Dead Redemption II are both beautiful and well thought out games both in the gameplay and the storytelling. But I think a lot of people simply ignore those things, hence my long rant of a post.

TLDR: I think Micah was intentionally written to be one dimensional, and Dutch was manipulative from the start. Arthur is just a unreliable narrator.

We play through Arthur's eyes and see/believe what he does. We can see Arthur's loyalty blinds him (and by extension, us) to Dutch's behavior. I would know peace if some folks to took a media literacy class. Red Dead one & two are shining example of the bias in an unreliable narrator. Video games are not exempt from literary tools because you control part of the story. That control is limited to the actions of your bias protagonist, in this case John and Arthur.

The same applies to Micah. Arthur never trusts Micah from day one, and so we as the player don’t trust him either. It would be incredibly lazy on Rockstar’s behalf to created as one dimensional of a character as Micah. But the thing is, Arthur views him that way, a no good money-hungry thief from the start. Arthur is able to see through him, but he is blind to Dutch’s similar behavior because of his loyalty. It’s an incredibly smart tool to use in video games. Once you replay the game without the blinders on of your first playthrough, you’re able to see that Dutch has behaved the very same ways from Chapter One, all the way through Chapter Six. The only difference is that Arthur (and we the player) is slowly becoming aware of the patterns for the first time.

Now, for the blatant mischaracterization of Dutch entirely. To blame everything on Micah diminishes Dutch’s character to such an extent it completely disregards the decades long manipulation he inflicted on the gang, that is very real and very obvious. I won’t get into the way each individual character’s behavior was effected by this, but I will speak about Arthur and John briefly.

Dutch takes in people that are vulnerable and that he knows he can manipulate for his own gain. Children included. Multiple children, in fact. He always has a plan, not to keep folks safe, but to keep everyone comfortably under his thumb. It was always, "Are you with me, or against me" from the beginning. Everyone was either a means to his end, or they were worthless. The second someone did not agree, it was a betrayal, and an attack. I don't doubt he did some things out of kindness, but there's always ulterior motives. Dutch is nothing but a man of pretty words that hide his manipulation.

Dutch maintains an air of grandiosity amongst the gang. He obviously holds the belief that he is above them in all ways. He believes he is their leader because he is simply better than the rest of them. He’s smarter. He’s this god-like figure in his mind. He’s their savior. Hence his distaste for any doubt, or even being challenged.

Lenny and the conversation he has with Dutch about Evelyn Miller for example. Lenny indirectly call’s Dutch’s empty words out and points out that both Miller (Dutch’s idol) and Dutch himself hide behind their flowery words and phrases. Or Arthur and Hosea voicing their concern about robbing Leviticus Cornwall, it’s seen as a betrayal. Or when Uncle pokes fun at Dutch in camp and Dutch says to him, “I would really like to kill you right now.” Dutch may not be entirely self aware, but any attack at him does dig at him for a reason. And this is all from chapter two! There has always been a pattern.

Dutch says he "saved" them. He saved Bill, and John, and Arthur and Lenny and Javier. He saved all of them, and he is above all of them. Dutch sees people as nothing more as tools to meet his goals. There are instances where he does seem to genuinely care, but the ulterior motive is always there.

Dutch and Micah were written with the idea that we see the story through Arthur’s eyes. Arthur is blinded by his decades long to loyalty to Dutch and slowly coming to the realization of the truth. Micah is incredibly one dimensional cause Arthur sees through him and views him as a rat from the start. The truth of the story can be seen through repeated playthroughs. Dutch’s paranoia from the start, questioning Arthur’s loyalty from Colter. Micah sniffing around about the Blackwater money from the beginning. Arthur’s journal entries about the his biased version of the truth. Media literacy is necessary even in video games. God.

[mustainegf]

→ Masterpost

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟑

It had been a week now since I tried to let James know about the baby. Each day that passed without his call felt like a miniature dagger to my heart, slowly killing me and our child. I made many promises to myself that I would not be calling him again but this was something he needed to know and I had to just swallow my pride and contact him, however painful.

I took up the receiver and punched in his number, my hands shaking like crazy, my heart hammering against my breastbone. Each ring seemed to take an eternity, and watched in despair as, finally, he picked up at the very last ring.

"Hello?" His voice is groggy, either just woke up, or still drunk.

"James," I began, attempting to keep it steady. "It's me. You better not be drunk."

There was a pause, then a confused, "yeah, yeah, I’m sober… What's going on? Why are you calling?"

I took a deep breath. "Why didn't you call me back?"

"Call you back?" His confusion was real. "I don't remember you calling. When did you—"

"Last week," I interrupted, my frustration coming to the surface. "You were drunk and surrounded by people. I told you to call me when you were sober."

A long pause ensued in which I almost heard him rummaging through the memory. "I'm sorry. I really don't remember. I was wasted, I think."

“You think?” The anger seethed just below the surface. "Are you alone now?" I asked, trying to modulate my tone.

"Yeah," he replied. "I'm alone. What's going on?"

I took another deep breath, feeling the enormity of what I was about to admit. "James, I went to the hospital a few weeks ago because I wasn't feeling well. They did some tests, and they told me I'm pregnant."

Silence. It stretched on for so long that I wondered if the call had dropped. Then, I heard a heavy sigh on the other end.

"Pregnant?" His voice was soft, almost disbelieving. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure," I said, my voice trembling. "I'm almost 2 months along."

Another long pause. I could hear the panic in his breathing, even though he was trying to hide it. "And you're sure it's mine?"

That question slapped me right in the face. I could feel the fury rising. "Of course it's yours, James. I don't sleep around like you do with your groupies."

He didn't try defending himself, but his voice was filled with irritation. "Alright, alright, I’m sorry."

"But it's the truth. I'm keeping this baby, James. You need to know that."

I could almost hear him take a deep breath over the line, his frustration at me as clear as anything. "Okay. Okay, fine. But what are we going to do? How are we supposed to handle this?"

"I don't know, James. I've been trying to figure this out on my own, but you deserve to be part of this decision. You’re the father for fuck sakes."

"Fuck," he muttered, and I could actually hear the panic rising in his voice once more. "I need some time to think. This is- this is a lot to process."

"I get that," I said, softer now. "But we don't have a lot of time. This baby isn't going to wait for us to get our shit together."

He was silent for a moment, then he sighed again. "I know. I know you're right. I just. I need to wrap my head around this. I'll call you when I have my thoughts together, okay?"

"Fine," I said, not managing to keep the bitterness I was feeling out of my voice. "But please, James, don't take too long. This is too important."

"I won't," he promised. "Just a little bit of time."

"Alright," I said, relieved and frustrated at the same time. "I'll talk to you soon."

"Yeah," he replied. "I love you."

My stomach dropped at his words, a phrase that felt almost forbidden. But what could I do? This was the father of my child, and the love of my life.

“I love you too, James,” I said tiredly before dropping the phone onto the receiver.

I clutched my stomach, something I did a lot now. That was definitely not how I wanted to tell him, and even though his reaction wasn't incredibly surprising, it still hurt so bad.

I cried softly with my hand protectively laid over my belly. I cried for me, and for James, and for our baby. I cried for the boy who I’d fallen in love with, who’d been killed off, replaced by his new persona. I cried for all the nights he held me, told me he would never leave.

I cried for my Jamie, begging to have him back.

A couple of days later, I was wandering around a nearby shop. I had been there to gather a few essentials, but I was about to cross the pathway of the baby section when I had to stop and walk in. My footsteps decreased, and I glanced sidewards towards the shelves loaded with baby clothes, bottles, pacifiers, and several items that are required by such a little child. A weird feeling of warmth developed in my chest.

I slowly made my way over, Seeing all the tiny, fragile things overwhelmed my heart. I pictured our little baby wearing those soft clothes or drinking from those bottles or being comforted with those pacifiers. In spite of everything, a warm feeling flared inside me.

I turned and reached out to touch one of the tiny onesies. The cloth was so soft as it brushed my hands. The front part was decorated with small animals meant for a newborn. I just smiled, imagining our baby inside. For a brief moment, I let myself dream of it.

I went on shopping, placing items in my basket: a soft blanket, a set of bibs. Each thing I pulled from a shelf left me a little feeling better.

I saw a rack of baby clothing, and walked towards it. I checked the various cute little shirts, my eyes landing on a tiny little shirt which read: 'I'm a rockstar just like my daddy.'

My heart all of a sudden felt like it was hit, and the happiness growing within me was gone in that instant. It was an absolutely foolish shirt with just some catchy phrase attached to it, but it touched the deeper part of me. The tears were threats building up, my vision getting blurry.

I imagined James, the man that he had been, so distant and embedded in his world of ego and fame. The image of our child proudly wearing a shirt, knowing the truth behind James’ lifestyle, made me feel sick. The lifestyle of the ‘rock star', so glamorous before, has taken so much away from us. I wanted my baby to be nothing like the way James was currently living.

I sniffled, brushing tears from my eyes, and tried to pull myself together. In haste, I grabbed some stuff for the baby, a onesie pack, some bottles, a little cuddly toy, and joined the next checkout line.

I paid for my stuff and left the store quickly, instinctively relieved for the cool outside air that was such a contrast with the heat and confusion inside. I trudged to my car, the bag of baby stuff bounced lazily at my side. I sat inside for a minute, gazing through the windshield, allowing the reality of it all to crush me.

I placed my hand on my belly, feeling the life growing inside me once again. This baby deserved way more than our chaos. They deserved a father who was present and loving, not lost to a drunken haze of parties.

That evening, I stood inside what was once James's music room. It was a small room, small and intimate, somewhere he had played his guitar for hours on end, writing songs. Now it was just bare and empty. An untouched reminder that he really was gone. The walls that were once scenic posters and memorabilia were now clean and bare.

This would be the nursery, I decided. A fresh start for the baby.

And as I stood there, I realized how much more I needed to buy. A crib. Diapers. A changing table. Good Lord, how were we ever going to be ready for this?

I lazily carried in the things that I had purchased that day and set them all out on the floor. I took one of the onesies and ran my fingers over the soft material. I pictured my new little baby squirming and gurgling around in it, their small hands and feet moving around in that awkward, adorable way that only babies seem to do.

Then, as I was so pleasantly off in my daydream, came the phone ringing in the kitchen and I was jerked back to reality with a pumping heart, getting quickly to my feet and going for the phone.

"Hello?" I could take only a partial breath of air with my nervousness.

"Hey..." It was James. He spoke softly, almost diffidently.

I was taken aback at how quickly he’d called back. I thought it would’ve taken him days. "James, hi. I wasn't really expecting you to phone so soon."

"Yeah, I- I've been thinking a lot since we talked this morning," he said, his voice laced with the tiniest bit of nervous energy. "I don't have all my thoughts in order just yet but I wanted to let you know that I really want to come visit the next time we have a break from the tour."

I was bizarrely relieved but also a little apprehensive. "You want to visit?"

"Yeah," he reassured me. "I need to see you in person, talk about everything. And… I want to see you pregnant, make sure you're okay."

Tears welled up in my throat at the thought. No matter what had happened between us, maybe his feelings didn't change at all. "I’d like that."

He sighed. "I'm still trying to process all of this. It's a lot. But I want to be there for you and our baby."

There was something so sincere in the way that he said this. "I appreciate that, James. I really do."

There was a pause, then, "How are you feeling? I mean, with the pregnancy and everything."

I took a deep breath and some of the stress slipped from me. "It's been tough. The morning sickness is pretty bad, emotions all over the place. But I'm managing. I'm trying to get the nursery ready. It's a lot."

"Yeah, I can imagine," he said softly. "I wish I could be there to help. I promise you, I’ll help pay."

"We'll figure it out," I sighed.

He was quiet for a moment before finally speaking. "I know. I just. I want to be there. I know I've messed up a lot."

"You have," I said bluntly. "But the fact that you want to try.leans a lot to me."

"Yeah, always," he replied softly, his voice crackling over the phone.

"I'll let you know as soon as I have the break dates. I’ll fly down."

"Okay," I whispered. "I'll just be here, getting everything ready."

"Look," he said gently, "I really am sorry. I know I've put you through so much."

"I know, James," I said, softening. "But We have a baby to consider now."

We spoke for a little while longer, first, about the pregnancy, and then about the baby and his plans to come home.

When I hung up the phone and went back into the empty room, the future nursery. And I picked up those little onesies once again. I envisioned our precious baby wearing them. This time, I wasn't as saddened by the picture.

I sat down on the floor, amidst all the items for the baby, and let myself dream for a moment. Dream of the day James and I would find our way to each other again, that we would be a family.

I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if the closest thing he did to being a father was sending child support cheques..

[fool-inthe-rain]

All the Right Reasons

Sirius Black x Potter!Reader

wc: 1500~

Content: Fluff!!!! Angst if you squint. Use of she/her pronouns, use of Y/N. Let me know if I missed anything. 

Request: I’m a hoe for Sirius Black and was wondering if you could write a Sirius Black x Potter!reader secret relationship. Maybe some sneaking around and getting found out and James being mad or something but with a happy ending. 

Anon I'm so sorry this took much longer than I expected it to. Thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy reading!

Navigation

To say they were in love, well, that would be an understatement. The pair were totally and completely infatuated with each other. They did a remarkable job of hiding their intimacy, however. The only other person who knew about the relationship between Sirius Black and Y/n Potter was, of course, Remus Lupin. It’s not like they wanted him to know, but when he walked in on them making out on Sirius’s bed, it was pretty difficult from there on out to hide what was going on from him. 

Remus was, unsurprisingly, incredibly supportive of them. Sure, he was skeptical at first. Who wouldn’t be? Sirius Black, best friend of James Potter, and dating his twin sister? Remus made it a point to set boundaries, even though he knew, he didn’t want to hear about it or see anything too relationship-y from either of them. The less he knew the better. The last thing he wanted was to know every detail of their relationship, and have James find out he knew. Remus knew Sirius and y/n better than either would admit, that being said, even though they had been diligent so far, he knew how incredibly unstealthy the two were. James was bound to find out sooner rather than later. 

Summer was hard. What with Sirius living with the Potters and all. This was his third summer with them, and his last, as they were going into 7th year and would–hopefully–be graduating. Sirius spent his nights waiting for James to fall asleep so he could sneak into y/n’s room. He was exceedingly grateful that James was such a heavy sleeper. 

Sirius was already laying out a game plan in his mind for how he and y/n would get ample alone time during the three-month break. He figured it wouldn’t be much different than last summer, but he still wanted to be prepared for what he liked to call ‘unprecedented changes to the mission’ the mission being their relationship. To his credit, Hogwarts was much larger and much easier to sneak around in, so y/n let him have his silly code phrases as long as it meant they would still be able to get away from James when needed. 

They had gotten home late, as the ride from Kings Cross to the Potter’s home was excruciatingly long and boring. Euphemia and Fleamont let them know in the car that come morning, they would be heading out for a small family engagement on the coast. James and y/n were not expected to attend as it was extended family they really had no relationship with. As soon as Sirius heard the house would be free of adults for a few days the gears started turning in his head. When they had finally gotten home, decisions were silently made between Sirius and y/n to just sleep for the night, no sneaking around. They were too drowsy to be careful. 

Sirius and James parted ways from y/n and made their way to their shared bedroom only a few doors down from hers. 

“Thinking of going out tomorrow with a few old friends from the neighborhood. You game?” James asked Sirius, turning his head to look at his friend.

Sirius smirked from where he was standing, facing away from James. 

“Nah mate, you have fun. I think I’m just gonna hang out here, maybe see about that motorcycle I had been telling you about.” He was trying to hide the smile from his voice. This was almost too perfect. Effie and Fleamont would be out, James would be out, and then there were two. 

“Alright, well if you change your mind…” James’s sentence trailed off into a yawn. “Godric, I’m bloody tired.”

“Me too.” Was all Sirius could get out before he caught James’s yawn. 

James turned the light off and within seconds the pair was asleep. The next morning, as per usual, y/n was up early, in time to see her parents off. James woke up around mid-morning and when the clock hit 12:30, Sirius was still sound asleep. 

“I’m heading out for the day. I’ll be home around dinner.” James yelled as he left the shared bedroom, slinging a backpack over his shoulder.

“Mhm, whatever.” Sirius grumbled from under his sheets, sticking one limp hand out to wave away his best friend. 

James made his way out the door, offering a quick goodbye to his sister while tousling her hair. When she was sure he had left, she silently made her way upstairs, creaking open the door to Sirius’s bedroom. 

“I thought you left?” Sirius once again grumbled in annoyance, if there was one thing he hated more than his family, it was being woken up. 

“Oh? And where exactly was I supposed to be going?” y/n snickered teasingly.

Sirius turned around in the bed, enough so he was facing the door. A large smile was plastered on his face as he held the sheets up signaling for her to join him. Of course, she did, when Sirius Black wants you in his bed, you go. 

He draped an arm around her waist, running his hand up and down her back as they two just admired each other, and basked in the silence of the house. 

“This is nice.” She squeaked out, it didn’t matter that they had been together for almost a year she still got nervous around him.

“It’s exceptional. How lucky we are. First day home and we have it all to ourselves.” Sirius punctuated his sentence with a long kiss to her lips. 

The two were so wrapped up in quiet conversation, and each other's eyes that neither had heard the front door open. They certainly didn’t hear footsteps coming up the stairs, but they did hear the bedroom door opening and the loud gasp that followed. 

“What the hell are you two doing? Get off my sister!” James was wide-eyed as he stood in the doorway.

The two sprung out of bed, y/n’s chest was heaving from the adrenaline his yelling had caused. Sirius stood slightly behind her.

“I can explain!” Sirius quickly offered.

“Oh, I’d love to hear this! What you bed my sister and then leave her out to dry like every other girl?” James was fuming. “Give me one reason not to punch you right now.” 

“I love her.” Sirius shrugged as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

Y/n snapped her head back to look at him, her eyes wide in shock. They hadn’t said that before. Sure she thought about it, but to hear him say it made her heart swell.

“Okay, can I just say you two with the wide eyes, you look creepily alike so can you please stop with that look?” Sirius deadpanned as if he had just not made an earth-shattering confession. 

“You love her?”

“You love me?” 

The twins said in synch and Sirius just nodded. 

“Of course I do,” he was looking at y/n “I’ve loved you since the day I met you.” His eyes were full of honey and adoration. 

“I love you too-” Before she could get in another word James cut her off.

“Okay, wait, lemme get this straight. You guys are dating?”

The couple nodded.

“Merlin’s beard,” James ran his hands down his face a few times, trying to grasp the situation at hand, “How long?” 

“Almost a year.” y/n squeaked out, afraid that he would get angry again for keeping it from him for so long.

“Okay, okay.” James sat on his bed.

“And you,” He pointed at Sirius, “Love her?” He pointed at his twin sister. 

“Yeah mate, I really do,” Sirius said, nervously playing with the hem of his shirt.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” James asked, a twinge of hurt lacing his words.

“Mate, one of the first things you ever told Moony and I was that y/n was off limits. I thought you were gonna rip my head off!” 

“Well I mean yeah if you were gonna use her for a quick fuck then I would be pissed, but you love each other,” he stood up, a mischievous smile playing on his lips, “who am I to deny love!” he cried out with a dramatic flair, drawing them both into an equally as dramatic hug. 

“Why are you even home? I thought you were going out?” Y/n questioned when he let go of them.

“Yeah I forgot something, but now I can’t remember what it was.” 

James took in the sight before him one more time before picking his backpack back up.

“Oh, young love! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” He left the room and the couple could hear his loud laughter as he exited through the front door once again. 

“Well, he took that better than I expected.” Sirius smiled. “Now shall we pick up where we left off?” He got back into the bed, lifting up the sheets the same as he did before. 

Getting in the bed she couldn’t hold back her happiness any longer.

“You love me! Sirius Black is capable of love!” She sniggered poking at his sides. 

“Oh come off it!” He responded with a smirk of his own.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Hey!!! Congrats on your milestone, you totally deserve it! My request is

Isn’t it messed up how I’m just dying to be him? I’m just a notch in your bedpost but you’re just a line in a song - Sugar, We’re Going Down by Fall Out Boy

With Luke Alvez! Thank you!!

Hello Angel, this was super fun!

Send me a song lyric from my list to celebrate my follower milestone! 🎵

Sugar, We’re Going Down

Luke Alvez x Fem! Reader

Summary - Luke Alvez has the unjust reputation of being a ladies man. All he really wants is to settle down and when he meets you, he thinks he’s found the woman he’s been searching his whole life for. The only thing standing in his way is your boyfriend.

CW - set ups, blind dates, drinking, hangovers, mentions of sex but no detail, swearing.

WC - 4.2k

Luke Alvez didn’t like the term ladies man. It was a turn of phrase he’d first heard to describe him by his old partner Phil and something that seemed to stick with him since. 

He’d gone from serving overseas, straight into the FBI, neither of which were conducive to allowing long term relationships. 

Other people did it, it wasn’t as though it was unheard of. But Luke liked not being tied down, he enjoyed it just being him and Roxy. It was far less complicated that's for sure. 

When he joined the BAU, he was accused of not wanting to get close to even his new team. He’d overheard Emily profiling his desk, assuming him to be a loner with commitment issues. 

And maybe there was an element of truth to that. In his time with the Fugitive Task Force he’d moved around a lot which made it impossible to form a lasting relationship. Was it through fear of getting close to someone? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t think so, being alone just always seemed easier somehow. 

But a ladies man, he was not. 

In reality, Luke was the polar opposite. He was a hopeless romantic, he had a huge heart that had so much love to give he just unfortunately hadn’t found the right woman to receive it. 

When the members of his team started setting him up on blind dates, Luke had at first tried to protest, but ultimately it had been easier to just go along with them than argue against it. 

So far he’d met Janice, Kristy’s work friend who was incredibly overbearing. Olivia, a TA at the university Spencer lectured at who was sweet but fundamentally boring. Then there was Garcia’s friend Nicole who was deathly allergic to dogs. Ramona, Rossi’s publisher, Hariet, a woman from Emily’s gym and Grace, Tara’s old college roommate who was new in town. JJ was only the one kind enough to spare him the pity of trying to find him a date. 

The fact that none of the women went on to get a second date invitation only went to perpetuate their image of him being a ladies man. 

Luke preferred the term fussy. 

He took each woman to the same place, a bar in his neighbourhood called the Steel Star Tavern. It was a lowkey hole in the wall that served cold beer and hot fries and had the added bonus of being close to his apartment so when the date inevitably didn’t go well he didn’t have far to drag his sorry ass home.

After six dates with six nice yet unfulfilling women, Luke had drawn the line. No more set ups, no more blind dates. He’d humoured his friends for long enough but now he was done. 

He sipped his beer and ran his hand over the scratchy stubble on his chin as a long, pent up sigh escaped through his nose. It was a Thursday night and the Steel Star was only a quarter full at best which allowed him to sit and wallow in his loneliness without being disturbed.

Or so he thought. 

He was looking down into his beer and didn’t see someone approaching him. It wasn’t until his company’s shadow cast over the table that he looked up to see a figure standing next to his table. 

“Another date? Jeez, you really do get around.” You chuckled, picking up the two empty glasses on his table. 

“You been watching me?” Luke cocked an eyebrow at you as you placed the empties on a tray cradled in the crook of your arm.

“You come in here so often, every time with a different woman. It's hard not to notice. It's part of my job to get to know the regulars, you know?” You shrugged. 

“Right.” Luke nodded. “It’s not quite as terrible as it looks. My friends worry about me, I guess. I begged them not to keep setting me up but they are the most stubborn group of people you will ever meet in your life. I’m not a dog or anything like that.” He had no idea why he was telling you all of this, trying so hard to convince you he wasn’t the ladies man he’d been pegged as. 

Clearly you didn’t know why this stranger was telling you all of this either, by the way your lips twitched into an amused smile.

“Contrary to popular belief, bartenders don’t actually enjoy hearing the sad life stories of our patrons.” Your eyes sparkled playfully and your words caused Luke to chuckle.

“Fair enough.” He nodded. “Thanks for making me somehow feel worse than I already did.” 

“You are most welcome.” You smirked at him and then you were turning on your heels and sashaying towards another table to clear more empties. 

Luke watched you go with a shake of his head and a smile playing on his lips. And god dammit if he wasn’t already smitten.

***

Luke nursed his beer for around an hour, unable to stop watching the way you seemed to float around the bar. Your smile was an easy one, but most definitely practised. Inside these walls you were in your element, confidence exuding for your every pore but he was sure outside of the door of the Steel Star you were riddled with insecurities. 

Sometimes, he just couldn’t turn off the profiler within him. 

Just as he was considering leaving, heading home to another pathetic night spent on his couch with Roxy, two shot glasses were being slammed on the table in front of him and someone was sliding into the booth opposite him.

You gave him a smile out of the corner of your mouth and nodded towards one of the shot glasses. The liquid was amber coloured and he could have a pretty good guess it was probably whiskey. 

You picked up the other glass and held it in your hand, waiting for him to do the same. He complied and wrapped his hand around the little glass, lifting it to click against your own. 

He waited for you to bring the glass to your lips and down the contents before he did the same. You hissed before slamming it back on the table top.

“Should you be drinking while you work?” Luke raised an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

“I’m finished for the night.” You shrugged.

“And instead of going home you decided to join me? Even after my sad life story?” 

“I can go if you’re going to make a big deal about it?” You shrugged like you didn’t care much either way. Maybe you didn’t.

“Not making a big deal, just observing.” 

“You do that a lot.” You leant forward on the table. 

“Do what?” Luke mirrored you.

“Observe. I’ve noticed the way you always seem to be on high alert, you give the once over to anyone who walks through the door. Hell you’ve been giving me the once over all night.”

“Occupational hazard.” Luke shrugged. 

“What do you do?” You narrowed your eyes on him.

“If it's ok with you, I’d rather skip those kinds of questions. The get-to-know you spiel. I’ve been on more dates than I care to count recently and I’m sick of talking about myself.” Luke exhaled. 

“Works well for me because I’m already sick of hearing about you.” Your eyes sparkled again and again, Luke laughed. 

“Perfect.” Luke shook his head in amusement. “I mean, I could maybe stretch as far as telling you my name.” 

“Don’t feel obliged, I won’t need to remember it anyway.” 

“Ouch.” Luke pretended to be offended, holding his hand to his heart. “Woman, you are cold.” 

“As ice.” You smirked. “Fine, tell me your name if it’s going to make you feel better.” 

“Luke. Luke Alvez.” He held his hand out across the table for you which you scrutinised for a moment or two before sighing. 

“Y/N.” You reluctantly shook his hand. It was warm and rough, calloused in places. 

“No last name?” 

“Nope. Just Y/N. You know, like Madonna or Cher.” 

“Ok, Cher. You want another shot?” 

“Only if you’re buying.” You winked at him and Luke swore the small gesture stopped his heart. 

Was it possible the woman he’d been searching for had been under his nose all this time? Because from where he was standing, you were just about perfect for him in every way, even though he barely knew you. 

His friends called him a ladies man, but Luke Alvez wore his heart on his sleeve. The problem with that was, leaving himself so exposed made it easier for him to get hurt. 

And he was about to find that out. 

***

The hangover that ensued the following day was like nothing Luke had ever felt before. He was sure his skull was trying to cave in and that his insides had turned against him, he was sure it wouldn’t take much for yesterday's food to make a reappearance. 

Thankfully for him the team didn’t get a case and he was able to quietly die at his desk. 

The previous night's events played over in his head on a loop and he was grateful that the alcohol hadn’t inhibited him from remembering every beautiful detail. 

After drinking at least an entire bottle of whiskey between you, you had stumbled back to Luke’s apartment. 

He lost count of exactly how many times he’d had sex last night and well into the early hours of this morning. But each time has somehow been more mind blowing than the last. 

He’d been alone when he woke up this morning but that didn’t deter him. 

When he finished at work for the day, feeling slightly more human than he had when the day started, he went straight to the Steel Star and found you behind the bar with ease. 

He smiled as he made his way over but you didn’t return the expression. Instead your brow was slightly furrowed and if he wasn’t mistaken he could have sworn you rolled your eyes. 

“Hey,” he approached, leaning on the bar. 

“What can I get for you?” You rolled your lip between your teeth. 

“Uh, I wasn’t here for a drink.” He chuckled dryly. 

“Weird of you to come to a bar then.” 

“Uh…” he scratched the back of his head at your frosty demeanour but he wasn’t easily perturbed. “What time do you get off?”

“Why?” You straightened your back, a defence mechanism. 

“I thought I could maybe take you for dinner?” 

You started to laugh and this time you definitely rolled your eyes. 

“What part of last night gave you the impression I would want you to take me to dinner?” You folded your arms across your chest. Another defence mechanism. 

“I thought we had fun.” 

“We did.” 

“Uh, so I figured we could have fun again?” He was frowning deeply. 

“We had fun. Past tense. Let’s just leave it at that.” 

“But uh…I thought that-”

“I have a boyfriend, ok? Jeez if I’d known you’d get this clingy I wouldn’t have bothered.” You dropped your arms to your sides. 

“You’ve…you’ve got a boyfriend?” Luke stood back up from the bar, feeling his heart clench inside of his chest. 

“Yes.” You shrugged. 

“Yet you slept with me?” 

“Which should give you an indication of the kind of girl I am.” 

“You…are you for real?” Luke swallowed thickly, feeling his hangover flooding back tenfold.

“What can I say? I…” You trailed off when the door behind the bar opened. 

Luke noticed the way your body tensed as a scruffy looking man in a leather jacket ambled out, eyes cast downwards at his phone. As if sensing he was being watched, he glanced up and met your eyes.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t know you were working today.” He offered you the vaguest hint of a smile as he spoke.

But when he went to pass you, his hand grazed over you, from your lower back around to your hip. It was a brief moment, so fleeting anyone else might have missed it. But not Luke.

“Him?” Luke scoffed, garnering your attention back to him as the other man walked away, head back in his phone.

“So what?” You shrugged.

“What does he have that I don’t have?” The second the words were out of his mouth he wished to take them back. 

They made him sound so pathetic, so clingy as you’d called him. And it didn’t surprise him when you started to laugh. 

“You should leave, Luke. Last night was fun but it’s never gonna happen again.” You shrugged once more before turning away from him and starting to clean some glasses. 

And despite the fact he didn’t want to leave, it was for the best that he did. 

Luke Alvez was certainly not a ladies man. Far from it. 

***

Weeks passed and Luke couldn’t stop thinking about you. He’d never felt like this about a woman he’d just met, a woman he hardly knew anything about. 

You were stuck in his head like an earworm, a song he couldn’t get out of his mind. And it was equal parts the sweetest yet most depressing tune he’d ever heard. 

After a few weeks, sick of feeling sorry for himself he went to Reid and told him he wanted to see Olivia again. She was, in the nicest terms, the best of a bad bunch. 

Spencer had been surprised by his change of heart but nonetheless said he’d pass the message onto his colleague at the university. 

Four days later, Luke took her for dinner. 

The month that followed he’d taken her for three more dinners and one movie. 

Olivia was an exceptionally nice woman. She was pretty in an understated way, not flashy or showy. She was incredibly smart, working towards a doctorate for which she told him Spencer was helping her with. 

She liked books and foreign cinema, playing chess and meandering museums. She was for all intents and purposes the female Doctor Spencer Reid. And as much as Luke liked Spencer, he didn’t want to date him. 

But maybe she was just what he needed, who knows, maybe she could be the woman of Luke’s dreams. He very much doubted it, but stranger things had happened.

After a month of dating they hadn’t even kissed, hadn’t even so much as held hands. She was a really nice girl, but there wasn’t an ounce of chemistry between them. And he’d started to get the impression, by the way she constantly brought the topic of conversation back around to Professor Reid, that she might harbour a little crush on her coworker.

After dinner that night, Luke knew it would be their last and he was sure she knew it too. But as they left the restaurant he mentioned drinks and she was happy enough to oblige. 

He told himself he didn’t mean to take her to the Steel Star, that it had just been a simple coincidence that they’d been nearby. But whether he’d meant to or not, that was where he and Olivia ended up. 

He’d spotted you behind the bar straight away as Olivia excused herself to use the bathroom. He made a beeline for you and he definitely noticed the roll of your eyes this time. 

“Jesus, Alvez. Can you not take a hint?” You frowned at him, your back immediately up. 

“You think I’m here to see you?” You scoffed. “Please, you’re not worth the chase.” 

“Oh really?” You scrutinised him. “Why are you here then?”

“If you must know, I’m on a date.” 

“Funny, because to me you appear to be alone.” Your lip twitched at the corner in amusement, 

“She’s using the bathroom.”

“Convenient.” You nodded. “Let me guess, any minute now this mystery woman is going to call and say she felt sick and had to leave?” 

“You think I’m pathetic enough to come here and make up a woman to try and make you jealous?” He couldn’t believe this. 

“You were pathetic enough to think one night of sex meant I’d fall for you, so who knows?” 

“You really are an ice queen, do you know that?” He spat.

“And you’re a pathetic sap.” You bit back. 

Luke went to reply to try and hurt you like you were hurting him but before he could form an insult, he felt a presence at his side. 

He glanced down at Olivia who smiled meekly at him, toying with the strap of her purse with her hands. You looked between the two of them, your blood boiling in your veins. And it was only made worse when Luke wrapped his arm around the petite woman’s shoulders. 

“Y/N, this is Olivia. My date.” He turned back to you, his eyes dark. “Olivia, why don’t you get us a table while I get the drinks.” 

“Ok.” Olivia nodded with a small frown as Luke let her out from his hold.

She practically scurried away while Luke smirked at you a little dangerously. 

“I’ll have a beer and a glass of white wine. Please.” He leant on the bar, a smug look on his face.

You swallowed down your emotions and turned away from him to make his drinks. There was a swirling in your stomach, a tightening in your chest that you couldn’t place. Surely it wasn’t jealousy? You couldn’t be jealous because you didn’t like Luke in that way.

He was good in bed, there was no doubt about that. And he was unfairly gorgeous, sweet and fun to be around. But you didn’t like him, you were certainly not jealous.

You returned with his drinks and he paid you, that same self-satisfied smile on his lips that you half wanted to slap off of him, half wanted to kiss off of him. 

“Y/N?” He said your name as you went to retreat again and you turned to him with a cocked eyebrow. “I might have just been a notch in your bedpost, but I guess you were just a line in my song.” 

And with that, he picked up his drinks and walked away.

***

After only one drink, Olivia called it a night and Luke walked her out of the bar and waited with her for a cab. 

As she was slipping inside she confessed she didn’t think they should see each other anymore as she was interested in someone else. 

It didn’t take the genius himself to figure out who that was. 

Luke had smiled and placed a soft kiss on her cheek telling her that he understood. He watched the cab peel away and turned to head in the direction of his apartment. 

As he walked, he glanced up the alley that ran down the side of the bar and he could make out a shadowy figure leaning up against the wall. And his instincts told him exactly who it was. 

He knew it was best if he kept walking home but of course that’s not what he did. With a sigh he turned up the alley and slowly headed your way. 

You barely offered him a glance as he approached, instead looking down at your hands. Luke stopped a few feet in front of you and folded his arms across his chest. 

“She didn’t seem like your type.” You couldn’t help the words they left your lips. 

“Uh, and what exactly do you know about my type?” Luke felt the smirk tugging at his lips. 

“That mousy little thing? She’s seriously your type?” Your eyes snapped up at him and that’s when he saw it. 

Jealousy. 

“Looks can be deceiving, Y/N.” He unfolded his arms and shrugged, stepping closer to you. 

“Oh yeah I’m sure. A mouse in the streets but a freak in the sheets is she?” You rolled your eyes. 

“That’s…that’s none of your business.” He felt a blush creeping to his cheeks. 

“Oh my god, you haven’t slept with her, have you?” Your jealousy seemed to fade in an instant, replaced by something much more amused. 

“Again, that’s none of your business. Why the hell do you care anyway? You’ve got a boyfriend!” Luke raised his voice slightly but you didn’t even flinch. 

You tore your eyes off of him and glanced down the dark alleyway. Your arms snaked around your waist as if you were trying to protect yourself from something. 

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Your voice was so quiet Luke barely heard it. But he did hear it, he just wanted you to say it louder. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” He tried to hide the delight from his voice 

“I said, he’s not my boyfriend.” You let out a haggard sigh. “We’ve hooked up a few times, I don’t even know why I said he was my boyfriend.” 

“What the fuck?” Luke frowned deeply at you. “Why would you lie about that? I was…”

“You were what?” You quickly asked with your own frown. 

“Jealous.” He admitted with a sigh. “I was jealous because I was dying to be him, how messed up is that?” 

You gnawed on your lip, taking one tentative step closer to him.

“You deserve more than I can give you, Luke.” You shrugged but he was shaking his head. 

“That’s not true. You’re more than you think you are.” He softened. 

“I’m more than you bargained for, trust me.” 

“I don’t believe that.” 

“Well it’s true. I’m a fucking mess, Luke! My whole life is a mess. You deserve a woman who has her shit together, a nice, kind woman who wants to settle down and live in the suburbs and bear your extremely good looking children. But that’s not me.” You huffed, feeling tears suddenly burning the backs of your eyes. 

Weirdly, Luke was smiling at you. 

He stepped dangerously closer, raising a hand cautiously and cupping your neck. You remembered all too well how intoxicating his touch was and you shuddered a little. 

“Just tell me one thing.” He lowered his voice. 

“What?” You replied in equally hushed tones. 

“Am I worth it?” 

You narrowed your eyes on him curiously, not understanding what he was getting at. His fingers gently brushed your flesh and it was making your knees tremble. 

“Worth what?” You swallowed thickly. 

“Allowing yourself to be vulnerable for? I’m not asking for the world on a silver platter, Y/N. I’m not asking for a home in the suburbs and extremely good looking children. I’m just looking for someone who might want a little more from me than just sex. 

Someone who wants to spend time with me and not just when they’re drunk. Someone who will go to dinner with me, maybe eventually meet my friends. Someone to cuddle up on the couch with and watch bad TV. Someone to go for walks in the park with me and my dog. I’m not asking you for forever Y/N, I’m just asking for a tomorrow.” 

His eyes were begging you, pleading you to see that there was more between you than just one night. 

It wasn’t as though you really needed convincing. You’d known when you dragged yourself from his sleeping embrace that you could have a future with this man if you let yourself. If you allowed yourself for once to be happy, you knew this man wouldn’t disappoint. 

But still, you liked to keep your cards close to your chest. 

“Wait, you have a dog?” You cocked an eyebrow at him. 

“A Belgian Shepherd named Roxy.” He beamed as he talked about his beloved mutt. 

“I do love dogs.” You mused. 

“I have no doubt that I can make you love me too.” He blurted out rather bodly and you felt the smile spreading across your face. 

His hand was moving around to the back of your neck, fingers grazing gently across your baby hairs that grew back there. 

You swallowed again, feeling slightly light headed due to a combination of his touch and the way in which he was looking at you. 

You believed it wholeheartedly. You knew falling in love with Luke Alvez would be the easiest thing in the world. You were probably already halfway there. 

But you still didn’t want to make it so easy on him. 

“Cocky son of bitch, aren’t you?” You smiled, moving your own arms upwards until they were wrapped around his neck and your bodies were flush against one another. 

“I actually prefer the term charming.” He grinned at you. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at this man in front of you, the one still gently caressing your neck. 

He’d done the impossible. In the space of one night he’d wormed his way in your heart, like a catchy song gets itself stuck in your head. He wasn’t just charming, he was a miracle worker. 

Instead of responding you simply closed the small space left between you and crushed your lips together. 

Luke didn’t waste any time in deepening the kiss, his other hand finding solace on your hip. 

He kissed you until your lungs were empty and even after he continued to kiss you some more. 

When he did pull back he gasped for air, his lips deliciously puffy as they quipped up into a smirk. 

“I lied before Y/N, when I said you were just a line in my song.” 

You frowned a little at him, keeping your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. 

“What do you mean?” 

He placed a chaste and tender kiss to your lips before he rested your foreheads together and whispered, “you’re not just a line, you’re my whole damn song.” 

[beoneofus]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

unedited

++

“ do the guys actually enjoy being around me? ”

the four first heard about your unvoiced thoughts during a conversation with star. they had gone out, the vampires doing their nightly feed, while tou stayed back with star and laddie - arriving to the infamous brunette braiding your hair and putting stylish clips in it. they dared to admit that she had skills.

when they first overheard you two talking, it was marko's idea to eavesdrop. of course it was, given the evil little gremlin wanted to hear what kind of gossip you had goin’ on whenever they weren't around. paul had suggested it wasn't a good idea, and dwayne shut it down; stating it was disrespectful to practically spy on their mate. david had gotten annoyed, and it led to a small exchanging of hushed, aggressive words. but that's when they heard the start of the disturbing topic.

marko's ear was caught first by it. although people may think him and paul are the most immature and idiotic, they were mostly wrong. marko tended to keep an eye out for shit, even an ear, it was just in his blood to constantly watch over like a hawk - much like david did. when it came to his partner, his senses and alert was even up more by the dial. you could only imagine how the usual cheshire grin dropped off of his face in the beat of a heart.

“ shut up. ” he'd voice, seriously.

paul would be caught off guard by how sharp his command was. dwayne would stare, his quiet nature once more taking over. and david, of course, would look at him with eyes that dared to repeat what he had said.

for once though, marko was awfully stiff. that's what made david drop his cigarette and stomp it out, before turning. he was no idiot, hence why he was basically the leader of their little pack. so, he listened in - they all did.

what the boys heard wasn't something they expected. I mean, of course it wasn't - no person expects to hear their lover(s) voice how they felt unwanted, and doubted they were good enough or pretty/handsome enough. it really struck them in their unbeating hearts, causing pain to their heartstrings that they didn't think they'd ever feel again.

they agreed, then and there, that'd be the last time you thought that way. more love, care and so on would be poured into your relationship.

with david — it wasn't his strong suit to show much affection. rarely would he voice that he loved you, moreso showed it because saying it was just unknown to him. made him feel awkward, which was never a thing with david. he also tended to only compliment you on your bodily figure and remind you how pretty your face was. but, did those words actually mean anything? apparently not. you were a person that needed more than just the casual flirt and/or reminder.

this is why, he gave you.. space. but in a different sense. he toned down on the sexual phrases, and suggestive affairs. instead, replacing such things with more meaningful gestures. he took the liberty of actually buying you a bouquet of flowers, and leaving it on your bed with a note. it had left you dumbfounded, and guessing to who it was... but after a while it was pretty obvious. the way he bashfully avoided your gaze and wouldn't answer any questions. his eye contact didn't hold for as long as it usually does... it made you smile.

when your birthday rolled around, he made you feel so incredibly special. the cave, decorated to your liking. a nice night walk on the beach. stopping to stare at you in the perfect lighting of the moon, while caressing a gloved palm over your cheek and looking at you with such adortion you've never seen before. It's like it wasn't him, but you knew better. it was definitely him. It was him when he pulled you in for a loving, soft kiss... and it was him who told you he loved so much, oh so breathlessly.

it was delightful. and so was the attention you received from the other boys.

paul made sure to tuck in the little things for you. before, being mostly high off of his ass a majority of the time, he only took the effort to check you out and throw a smirk, and a charge of his tongue your way. meaning a suggestive compliment, one that'd get you going, rather than flattery. you liked it, but the voice in the back of your head still made you feel so little.

so, the blonde vampire did more. he'd kiss your temple when you went to bed, and smooth back your hair so caringly. he'd greet you when you first wake up with the most cheerfulness in his tone. he'd ask you if you felt alright after he began paying more attention to your emotions, if he felt something was off. he'd constantly check in with you about your mental being... and, although you didn't exactly know that, it was still appreciative he even asked.

the little squeezes he'd give to your hands if you were outside, and got spooked by something. the gifting of his famous jacket if you were cold. dashing off to go feed, but then pausing, only to come right back and kiss you lovingly because he forgot - kudos to his appetite. buying random keychains from stands everytime one caught his eye that reminded him of you. picking you up if you sprain your ankle because sometimes you can be rather clumsy. It all meant so much. It was all so... breathtaking.

It made you fall for paul even more.

now, dwayne. gosh, dwayne.

this dark romantic would go out of his way, in the most silent way possible. It'd start off with little things - getting you a drink of your choosing in the morning. kissing your cheek whenever he'd pass you. staring you down until toy notice, just so he can saunter over and give a kiss to the back of your knuckles. but these small things were only because he wanted to drag his love on for you. someone like paul gave it all at once, which was nice, but dwayne... he felt like sprinkles at a time would be what you really need.

the moment he took it to the extremes is when you were left gaping like a fish at him. he took it upon himself to do the unthinkable - for you, anyway.

the boys didn't really see it as a big thing to celebrate anniversaries, or anything of that nature. they were much too old, and shit like that just wasn't their muse. but dwayne was different. he found interest in the little things - romantic things. at heart, he was just the most caring teddy bear.

so when he had whispered in your ear that he had a surprise for you, you were excited, but never thought in a million years he'd take you away from the boardwalk, only to drive up towards the front street to a rusted billboard. the back was nothing fancy, covered in brown and stained a funky orange. but on the other side, when you finally peered around his tall figure, you nearly lost your breath.

“ is that... the lyrics of the song we heard, when we first met? ”

obviously it had taken a minute to click into your brain. you knew what the date was - the date of you two meeting, exactly a year ago. but, once again, the boys aren't one for ceremony arcs. the numbers printed on the bottom of the billboard though told you otherwise - which is shy when you turned to dwayne, tears were pricking in the corners of your eyes.

he'd grab your hips gently, slowly moving in towards you; thighs bumping against your own. your forehead right to his chin, where his oddly warm breath would fan against your skin, only for him to press a chaste kiss. It was lovingly, and so was the look he'd give you. “ don't cry, sweetheart. ”

it was so sweet. and it only made you think what marko had in store.

marko was the one most excited to show you his love for you. this boy... gosh, he adored you to the moon and back. when he first heard what you said, it was like world stopped around him.

you? not being good enough to be around them? that's purely insane.

it all started with rose petals of different colors dramatically scattered outside the entrance to your room. they'd lead down the hall, and throughout the cave, only to stop right in front of the little space he kept a nest at for his pigeons.

nigel, his favorite little birdie, would have a rolled up paper tied around his neck. you'd grin, untied the mini scroll, and read it with heat risen cheeks.

‘ wherever there's a vampire, there's a meal. ’

given that marko was quite the trickster, there's no better way to continue his little surprise without a riddled puzzle. you continued to follow his clues, until it eventually ended with you on the farris wheel. your brows scrunched, you continued to read over the last riddle left... it didn't quite make sense to you.

but once the little minx of a vampire suddenly appeared beside you, the flapping noise of his dingly jacket scrapping behind, it all made sense. he'd chuckle once you'd jump, only to show a sharp, toothy grin.

“ relax. ” he'd show a surrender of raised palms, before slowly lowering them. “ I got something for you. ” he'd playfully raise his brows, before reaching into his jacket... where he pulls out a familiar charm bracelet.

when you two first met, it had suddenly disappeared from your wrist. you thought it had came undone somewhere in the boardwalk, possibly on a ride, but this entire time marko just kept it with him, the little thief.

nonetheless, you were happy to have it back.

“ do you know why I kept it? ” he'd ask, leaning back as your cart finally moved to the top. it slightly swayed, leaving you nervous, but your little vampire was there to securely wrap an arm around your shoulders.

“ no? ” your response came out confused, more of a question. it left marko to chuckle lightly. as he leaned over, helping you secure it around your wrist, a little hum would leave him.

“ it was because I'd always have a little part of you with me, even if we're separated. ”

that seemed to be the icing on the cake that made your heart explode with joy, love and endless happiness.

being pampered constantly seemed pitiful at first, especially for you, someone who struggles with self esteem. but the longer everything dragged on, the more things fell into place. you were just glad you had your four, very handsome, and very caring boyfriends... because they meant the absolute world to you.

and you meant the absolute world to them.

[jadedrrose]

The Silent Reaver - ch. five

You and Law finally get to speak to each other, in secret, though. As you talk, you realize something, but you can’t contemplate it for very long…

other chapters

Warnings: half proof read, some stuff might be misspelled/phrased wrong. No violence or anything in this chapter, though I wouldn’t call it fluff just yet lol. Though there is some like… cute awkwardness

Last night, you’d been reunited with him. Trafalgar Law, who you hadn’t seen in thirteen years; not since you were both kids. Call it foolish, but as soon as he took you into his arms, holding you close as you cried, any feelings you’d had for him ages ago were reawoken within you. It was funny, really. To think your childhood crush was now your, well, adult crush. 

You’d decided to not act on your emotions, though. It was shocking enough to have him back, and you were certain he was probably incredibly surprised to see you; especially without any warning. You’d at least known you were going to see him. Law however, had no clue.

The two of you didn’t get to stay with each other for very long, though. He’d held you for a good five minutes, and by the time he’d pulled away to further question you, you’d been interrupted. Law had whispered “meet me up in the abandoned offices tomorrow evening” to you before shambles-ing himself away. You’d quickly regained your composure and acted as though you were simply wandering. The prisoners who’d found you seconds later didn’t question it. 

It was now mid-day, and in only a few hours you’d be meeting up with Law, in secret. You were so excited, but also incredibly nervous. Trying to distract yourself until sundown was difficult, to say the least.

You’d eaten a boring lunch in the kitchen, holding your best poker face to date as Monet had stumbled in while you were eating, and she’d started questioning you about your mission. You had lied and told her you hadn’t had the chance to find Law and corner him just yet. She only nodded with her unnerving smile, leaving you alone after that.

After lunch, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a short walk. After all, you were still trying to investigate things; for your own peace of mind. The Biscuits room came to mind again, plaguing you with the question; what was going on in that room? You wondered if Law had any idea. He’d been here a bit longer than you had, though you weren’t sure how much longer exactly. It seemed like he already knew his way around the old laboratory, while you were still figuring it out. Based on that alone, your best guess was that he’d been here for at least two weeks or more.

The hallways were once again fairly empty; hardly occupied by anyone except for the occasional patrolling prisoner. You never really ran into them, though. You simply passed by them, glancing at them for hardly a second with a deadpanned, emotionless gaze. This was the front you had to put up. You knew by now you had a reputation for being a silent, stoically calm assassin. It’s what caused others to fear you. Even at home with your family, the others would take jabs at you for being so quiet. Some joked it was your personality, others claimed you’d learned the behavior after eating Corazon’s fruit. The reality of it was that you’d always been so silent as a way to protect yourself. There were very few people who’d seen your real personality, and only a handful of them were still alive.

As you began to realize you’d been lost in thought, you panicked due to not knowing the time. Digging through the small pockets on your leggings, you found the little golden pocket watch you had brought with you. Another thing you’d taken from your old home, your home before Doflamingo had taken you in. Looking at it, you realized it was incredibly close to sunset, not giving you very much time to make it all the way over to the old offices. You shoved it back into your pocket and hastily walked in the direction of the closest stairway. 

From there, you navigated the many cold hallways until you found your way to where you’d been exploring yesterday. You could recall that all of the doors were shut when you’d been there previously, so when you stumbled into an open one, you figured that Law must be inside, waiting.

You took a deep breath for courage, trying to prepare yourself for it. With your eyes closed for a brief moment, you exhaled the deep breath and began taking steps toward the abandoned office. Of course, there was a chance that Law wasn’t even in this room, so you couldn’t just burst in calling his name. Quietly, you peeked your head into the dimly lit room, looking around for the pirate. Through the darkness, you spotted a familiar white hat, and smiled with relief. 

“Shut the door behind you, Reaver-ya.” 

The nickname caused you to giggle at the sound of it. Is that what he’d picked to be your version of the “-ya” names he gave others?

Gently closing the door so as to not cause any noises that would draw others’ attention nearby, you turned around and squinted, trying to see Law better as most light was now gone entirely.  You slipped your hand toward the wall, feeling around for a light switch. You quickly found it, and with a buzzing noise, the white electronic lights flashed to life above you.

“So why did you call me here?” You started with, giving Law a sweet but shy smile. After all, you hardly knew him as the man he now was.

Law took a moment to respond, and in the time it took him, you’d approached him and sat on the table he stood behind, his body slightly slouched as he leaned into the metal wall. “A few reasons,” he answered coolly. “For one thing, I really want to know more about uhm, your abilities,” a light cough escaped him as he cleared his throat. “I also just… would like to get to know you, again.”

Your smile widened as you gazed up at him, suddenly feeling rather nervous behind your expression. His last sentence made your heart thump wildly, your mind leaping with excitement at all the possibilities for the meaning. Perhaps he felt similarly to you?

“I want to know who you are now, too, Law.” 

He nodded, choosing to set his katana down for the time being. “What exactly?” He answered your question with another question. It was like the both of you were too shy of speaking first, for whatever reason. You knew your reason why, of course.

“Uhm,” you stuttered, face flushing for no particular reason. Just that this conversation was so casual and light-hearted, for now at least. Back in the day, you always enjoyed talking to Law like this. “Just… What have you been up to? I’m aware that you’ve become captain of the Heart Pirates, and then pulled some stunt to become a Warlord. But what else?”

Law hummed, somehow finding your response amusing. “Well. I’m not quite sure I can explain what I’m doing until I know where you stand, personally. You are here to kill me, no?”

“Or technically capture you,” you quickly corrected him. “I’m only supposed to kill you if you refuse to come with me. But, I think I made it clear last night that I have no intention of doing either.”

With a nod, Law found your response satisfying enough. “I suppose you’d be willing to help with my plans then,” he noted. “Y/n. I’m not here for some strange experiment reasons. I’m not here to research medical things.

“The truth as to why I’m here, is that I’m going to take down Doflamingo.”

Your eyes widened at his confession. “B-but how?”

“I’m going to destroy the SAD labs, and have the blame fall onto Caesar, which will then stop the mass production of SMILE fruits, resulting in the buyer retaliating.”

“Who’s the buyer?” You questioned, not having heard of any of this in the entire time you’d lived with the Donquixote Pirates.

“One of the four emperors,” Law told you, “Kaido, to be specific.”

You nodded. “And what do you expect Kaido to do?”

“I have no doubt that he’d kill Doflamingo himself. The SMILEs are essential to building his crew. Rather, his army.”

After taking a moment to consider everything, think of any and all possibilities of you assisting Law, you looked up at him with a confident smile. “Okay, I’m in. I can pretend to still be loyal to Doflamingo and help get any information you need.”

Law returned your smile, though his was more of a smirk. “Good. Now, back to… the other stuff,” he stuttered through his words, becoming less confident as the conversation topic shifted. “You- you’re an assassin, now?”

You nodded, almost pridefully. “Mhm. Remember how I used to play with pistols when we were kids?”

Law nodded at that, confirming he did in fact remember. A light chuckle left him as well, making you painfully aware of the longing in your heart. Longing for how close you’d been as kids, only you longed for a much different type of closeness. Anyway, that made you wonder what else he remembered; if he recalled as much as you still could.

“I eventually picked up sniper rifles. Now it’s my expertise, and Doflamingo thought my skill would be useful as an assassin,” You explained.

“Which is why you have the Calm-Calm Fruit,” Law said before you could even get there.

“Y-yeah. He gave it to me when I was eighteen. Said it was essential to my current role, and would then bring me to a more important one later. Though, I- I have no idea what that means.” 

As the words came from your lips, everything started to make sense then. Before Law could respond to you, your eyes widened and you nearly shouted. “Wait! No, I… I do know.”

“You do?” Law stared at you with interest.

“Law… before I left, Doflamingo said he’d… give me the heart throne should I kill you,” your heart loudly pounded in your ears as you realized that this was all planned out for you this entire time. “But, if you come back with me, it’s yours.”

You didn’t want to try and explain the rest of the deal to Law, as you were a bit worried about the implied meaning of Doflamingo’s haunting words. As they echoed in your mind, you hoped Law wouldn’t realize that you were leaving out one, strange detail.

“There’s something else,” he commented. “I can tell by the way you’re acting. Don’t forget that I knew when you were lying back then,” he chuckled. “You still play with your hair when you lie even now, huh?”

You stared at Law with a pout, embarrassed that he remembered something as miniscule as that. “W-well. I’m not really lying,” you tried defending yourself.

“Then what are you doing?” Law smirked. He was being so playful with you, it warmed your heart. A smile danced on your lips before you remembered what you were talking about.

“I just, the last detail is… weird,” you started to say, a frown replacing the smile you’d just shown. “He’d said that they’d find a suitable position for me after you claim the heart throne. Th-that, I might get lucky…”

Law’s smile faded, and he raised an eyebrow as he too, was a bit confused.

“He and the other elites laughed, like it was a joke that I wasn’t clued in on. Everything… the way they laughed, how it was implied… I think they, um,” you trailed off, afraid of saying your thoughts aloud. Especially if you were wrong. Because then that would mean something different…

“It seemed like an innuendo of sorts, right?” Law then asked before you could spit the words out.

“Y-yes…”

He nodded gravely, expression darkening as he spoke again. “Knowing him, it probably meant they’d make you… mine.”

Your face burned as the idea made you flustered. But you had to hide that, so you frowned as you looked into Law’s gray eyes and nodded, confirming that you had the same suspicions. “I’m not sure exactly how I’d be yours, but… I guess it would be, um…”

“Weird?” Law answered for you, tilting his head as he spoke the word.

“Yeah,” you felt awkward now. So you continued to play with your hair, avoiding eye contact with Law now. “Doflamingo seems to think that we uh… were that close back then, I guess. W-well, as close as two twelve year olds can be,” You added with a light giggle.

“But we aren’t twelve anymore,” Law shook his head, and his tone didn’t indicate what he was feeling. You weren’t sure what to think of his words, now. “We’re both twenty-six.”

Eyes meeting the floor now, you couldn’t think of anything to respond with, so you chose to simply nod.

There was a thick layer of tension between you and Law now, and it seemed like both of you were feeling too awkward and afraid of breaking it. The old office room was silent for a few uncomfortable moments, before Law finally shattered the silence.

“Y/n, you… do you feel the- wait. Is that-?” He stopped his trail of thought, and your eyes flicked up to see where he was looking. 

It appeared Law’s gray eyes were staring somewhere around your neck or chest. Regardless, his eyes were intensely set on you, and your body flushed with warmth as he gazed at you. 

“You kept that old piece of junk?” Law took a step forward, suddenly reaching a tattooed hand out toward your neck. His cold fingers just barely grazed your skin, and your breath hitched as a shiver ran down your spine. You longed to feel those fingers more.

But that trail of thought was cut short, as you realized he was pulling the old necklace he’d made for you outward. He didn’t pull on it harshly enough to break it off your neck, but he did have it tugged toward himself, though the necklace wasn’t very long. That resulted in Law’s face now being incredibly close to yours, so close that you could feel his breath on your forehead. His breaths were warm and came out unsteadily, and you wondered if his heart was racing as fast as yours was right now.

“Wh-why wouldn’t I keep it?” You stammered out, eyes darting around as you tried to avoid looking at his hand. Though it was impossible, and your face flushed even darker as you could see it so close up. They were large, which wasn’t surprising given how tall he was, but they seemed almost muscular, but very well kept. You also took notice of how clean his nails were, as well as the tattooed letters of the word “death” looked freshly done. You wondered how old they were.

“Well it’s, just, literally scraps. And I was twelve, so I was naturally shit at making jewelry,” Law explained, and if you weren’t too busy staring at his hand so close to your neck, you would’ve noticed a slight smile forming on his lips.

“But you made it for me,” you breathed out, finally ripping your eyes away from his hand to look up into his eyes. “Law, I… I can’t describe how happy I was when you gave it to me, I just… felt so loved after living in a terrible place for so long. I couldn’t possibly get rid of it.”

It was now Law’s turn to be embarrassed, as his cheeks and ears turned more red as you spoke. He let go of the necklace, moving his hand toward his hat to bring it downward, trying to hide his face from you. It was… rather cute, honestly.

“...You mean that?”

With a smile, you nodded. “Of course, Law…”

The tension between you both now felt so different, so intimate as you stared into each other’s eyes, both unable to form any words. Your faces were so close, you could now feel his breath on your lips as his were parted open. The feeling of his breathing and just the warmth emanating from his body had you dizzy. You parted your own lips, slowly closing your eyes with a bat of your eyelashes. Was he going to kiss you?

But before anything further could happen, Law pulled away, leaving you feeling cold. Your heart was pounding within your chest, so loud that you were afraid Law could hear even if that was truly impossible. He could take people’s hearts out from their bodies, after all. Just as Law turned his head away, you remembered something.

“Law, what were you going to say… before…?”

His eyes widened, and Law seemed to choke on his words as he tried forming them. “I uh- I was going to ask… you, s-something. It doesn’t matter now.”

Despite how nervous you felt, a giggle escaped you. “But I want to know,” you pleaded.

“F-fine. Y/n, do you feel… the same as back then, like… we were-”

Before Law could finish the thing you wanted to know most right now, you were both interrupted by voices in the hallway outside the room you two stood in.

“Hey, I don’t recall the lights being on in that room,” it was a prisoner, by the sound of it.

There was a small window, and as you alarmingly looked through it, you could see yellow suits slowly approaching.

Before you could react, you felt Law’s hands on you as he pulled you away from the window, an arm wrapping around you as he held you close to his body in one arm, the other one reaching for his katana as he activated his power. “Room.”

Next thing you knew, you were now in a pitch black room, presumably the next one over from the office you’d just been in. As you tried regaining your balance, you bumped into Law, therefore pushing him backward a little. His arms hit something behind him, causing a loud crashing noise to sound out. Initially, you hoped it wasn’t so loud that the prisoners had heard. But your hope was quickly disappearing.

“What was that?”

“I think it came from another office. I’ll check the right one, you go left.”

Once again, you stood frozen in shock. You and Law were going to be found out, and then everything, your plan, your life as it was, would be over. However, Law was quick to react, and his arms once again reached for you, his hands grabbing you as he pushed you to the ground. He was above you currently, but he ended up rolling onto his back, and the room seemed even darker now as you realized he’d hid you both under a desk. But now, as you laid on top of him, his legs were pushing up on you as he struggled to fit them in the space underneath the desk. Damn him for being so tall.

Just as the door to the room opened, Law ended up folding his knees, and the lower half of your body slid between his legs. You were going to gasp at the very sudden, very awkward contact, when Law’s hand was forced over your mouth, silencing any noises you’d made.

The lights to the room flashed on, illuminating the office for about ten seconds, before they shut off. “Nothing here,” one of the prisoners announced, “you got anything?”

You could hear the other one call out “nope”, and then the clicking of two doors shutting. 

With their voices and footsteps now faded away, you and Law were left entirely alone. His hand slipped away from your mouth, moving toward his face to rub his forehead as he cringed. Though, you could barely see this through the darkness. 

Now free to move, you quickly stumbled off of Law, standing up and putting your face into your hands as your cheeks burned. Law followed you, a grunt leaving him as he stood up beside you. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to make you-”

“Don’t worry about it,” you hastily said, trying to sound collected and not at all freaked out.

You and Law stood in silence, and you were glad that the room was completely dark as it meant Law wouldn’t be able to see how flustered you were. This time, you were the one to break it. “It’s getting late. I think one of us should leave… so we’re not seen together.”

Law nodded, though you couldn’t see this. “Yeah. You can go first. I can just teleport myself elsewhere. We’ll meet here again tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay…” you agreed, feeling slightly disheartened that your time with him was already coming to an end for the evening. You headed for the door, placing your hand onto the handle before turning to look behind you, “um, bye, Law…”

He didn’t respond, so you left the room without looking back again. You didn’t know why, but your heart ached with pain at the fact that he hadn’t responded. Why were you so upset over something so stupid? Trying to soothe the heartache, you told yourself that he had probably already teleported away and just didn’t hear you… right?

The truth was, Law had heard you. He just didn’t know what to say, because of the fact he was so lost in his own head. All he could think about was the question he’d been so close to asking you, and how he longed for the answer. 

He needed to know, for his own sanity.

[whovianwatchingstartrek]

A Whovian Watches Star Trek for the First Time: Part 095 - A fun day at the Zoo

Star Trek: The Original Series - Season 0 Episode 1 - The Cage

One final stop between Enterprise and discovery is the pilot of the Original Series which set a decade before the rest of of the original series. A few of you have already explained to me why, but I still think it's at least a little bit weird. But anyway, this is my first foray into 60's Trek, lets see how I get on.

We're not given much introduction to our new crew before this version of Enterprise encounters a distress signal from a ship that had to make a crash landing on an uninhabited planet. The signal however was sent a long time ago, so with no indication of survivors, the Captain, presumably the Captain Pike from the Spock Short Trek, decides to ignore it.

Also: Finally an explanation for what a Class M planet is! That phrase was used a few times in Enterprise, and now I'm happy that I know what it means beyond just something vaguely Earth-like.

Apparently, our Captain is considering resigning and has becoming jaded with the responsibility of captaining, which is an incredibly different outlook from Archer. Also the fact that the ship's Doctor doubles as a mixologist is hilarious to me, I hope he gets to stick around. As Captain Pike and the doctor finish having a heart to heart though, the Bridge crew find signs of survivors, so Enterprise enters Warp 7 (Seven!!!), and heads to Talos the rescue them.

A team of six is transported down to the planet for the rescue. The planet itself is a classic desert planet. bit of sand, some rocks, but this thing that stood out to me is it's done in a studio. I was expecting something equivalent to the Doctor Who Welsh Gravel Quarry method of creating an alien planet. That said, for 60's TV pilot, it looks great.

We find the survivors of the crashed ship, but appearntly the crew is being watched. Again, I'm impressed by the quality of the alien make up here. Perhaps 60's Who's shoestring budgets set my expectations of what 60's TV Sci Fi was visually capable of, but they look really good. They even look better than some Enterprise's less interesting designs. They've even got some kind of pulsing effect on heads, which looked amazing.

I really like they way Vina acts just acts really distant, like a scientist interacting with an object of study, but then starts going off about a secret, is unsettling is a really good way, although I kinda wish it was left to build a while longer. She leads Pike away, and then survivors just vanish and the Big Brained aliens kidnap the captain.

Pike then wakes up in a glass enclosure, like a Zoo, and is apprently due to be experimented on. From that concept, I thought the episode was going to be an exploration of humanity's relationship with animals, and there is some element of that, but the main focus is on Pike's character. The Aliens start projecting illusions of different scenarios into his mind, starting with the memories of his most recent mission.

It's really interesting to see Pike's thought process play out. He knows this is an illusion and until much later is under the impression that Vina is an illusion, but still fights the illusion to protect her, and I loved how he took apart what's happening as fight is happening. Probing why an illusion would be frightened.

I really like the Talosians as a concept for a species. A species that has all this power, but just uses it to sit around to get entertainment in false realities. And I love the way Pike is just quick to figure out their exact powers and limits. It's also just heartbreaking to see how broken on to the situation that Vina is. It was here that I also kind noticed a bit commentary on viewers relationship with TV through the Talosians, which is a great theme to explore, but kind of a bold choice for your TV Shows Pilot Episode.

Enterprise tries to transports down a small rescue party into the alien zoo, but the Talosians block everyone except the women, to give Pike a choice. Spock makes the decision to leave, but the Talosians seem to also shut down Enterprise's power, then start taking all information from Enterprise's database.

I absolutely loved this episode. It had a few 60's-isms, but I was expecting those. It's conclusion just being kind of "Wow Humans don't like being slaves" felt a bit rushed, it didn't seem like they really cared about that until the end, but I still enjoyed myself here. Pike was really the only cast member here who left any sort of impression on me, but I liked him for the most part.

Anyways, I start Discovery tomorrow, which different century, different crew and different ship. It'll my first delve into Star Trek's really recent stuff, minus the short treks yesterday, and I'm excited.

[greentrickster]

One of the things I find interesting about Maxwell as a character, especially as we find out more about him, is, as someone with a decent background in theatre, how real he seems to me. Not as some great, grand villain, but as a performer who wanted and who got in over his head as a result.

A little explanation: when I say, “I have a background in theatre,” I don’t mean anything big or grand - I’ve only been paid for I think three of the jobs I’ve done, the majority of it was lessons and volunteer work for more niche stuff. Which is important, because that’s the level of stage William seems to have been at originally. I’ve actually met a lot of Williams in the course of my acting experiences - you’d be surprised how many of them there are. And, I cannot stress this enough, they are not bad people.

You’ll hear people say that the performance industry is cut-throat, and it is, but that means it’s also shockingly rough on the performers in it. There’s a lot of performing in school gyms, having to provide pieces of your own costume even if it’s not a school activity or a lesson, hours like you wouldn’t believe in regards to both practice and performance, and pay such that there’s a reason it’s a trope for actors to have side jobs. And that’s once you’re already in, and getting there is hard enough. Moving up is even more work, and often requires you to be skilled in multiple areas. Injuries happen, and you don’t work? You don’t get paid. Heck, I’ve stopped acting, just because I came to the conclusion that I didn’t want it enough to put up with the conditions getting to do it put me through.

Thing is? There are people out there who do want it that much, who’ll go through a performance with a taped-up leg or a head cold that’s making it hard to think. People who heard the phrase ‘the show must go on’ and took it to heart. People who are constantly looking for some new edge, some way to stand out from the crowd of other skilled, talented people they’re in because they want to be the one on the stage, in the spotlight, getting those applause from the crowd. And, as often as not, it’s easy to get an ego on you once you get there, and also to become incredibly jealous of your place in the spotlight, wary of anyone else taking what you’ve worked so hard to gain.

And all of that feels like it applies so well to William Carter. The man who left his home and family to try and make it as a stage magician in another country. Who was working hard to make it in a tough industry but couldn’t quite find that spark he needed to make it. Who finally found the edge that gave him the leg-up he needed to finally step into the spotlight he’d been seeking for so long. Who guarded the edge he’d gotten jealously, for the same reasons all magicians and many performers guard the secrets of their trade so carefully. Who presumably realized a little too late that he’d gotten in over his head, and didn’t know how to stop.

Now, replace the Codex Umbra with drugs, alcohol, medications, or any number of other things, and William’s isn’t a new story at all - it’s one we’ve seen play out over and over in the performance industry, and I’m sure we can all name at least one star we’ve seen rise and fall in our own lifetimes. It’s not new, strange, surprising, or even unusual. It’s just a case of bad luck that the edge William found cost him in such a strange, horrific manner.

And that’s why Maxwell, once William, is so interesting to me. Because he’s turning out not to have been some great, grand figure, a powerful schemer or clever conman. Heck, as Wes’s story showed us, he’s not even that great at getting back at his enemies. He was just a guy, a really average, normal guy, who really wanted to be a performer. Because, no matter what he became as the King, he doesn’t seem to have started out bad, and the worst he seems to have become in the regular world was something of an egomaniac. Which, again, extremely normal in performers. That’s where the thrill comes from. He was a regular, unassuming guy who got handed the key to his dreams... and didn’t realize the true cost until much too late.

Because I’ve seen how much many performers are willing to pay and put up with for that moment in the spotlight, how much more they’re willing to pay and put up with to make that moment last... and I can’t help but wonder how many of them, if offered the same chance, would make the same choices as William, and also not realize it until much too late.

[seagull-energy]

BUCKLE UP, FOLKS, IT'S TIME FOR SOME BIG THOUGHTS ABOUT SEPTEMBER 29THS NEWSLETTER ENTRY! (this took so long omg, I got very busy) VERY long post incoming.

First of all, the entire barrow scene is INCREDIBLY creepy, but I want to highlight this bit in particular:

'What in the name of wonder?' began Merry, feeling the golden circlet that had slipped over one eye. Then he stopped, and a shadow came over his face, and he closed his eyes. 'Of course, I remember!' he said. 'The men of Carn Dûm came on us at night, and we were worsted. Ah! the spear in my heart!' He clutched at his breast. 'No! No!' he said, opening his eyes. 'What am I saying? I have been dreaming. Where did you get to, Frodo?'

Hey, what's happening here??? Is Merry being possessed by the unhoused spirit of a man of Arnor?? This is another one of those things that is just dropped in, never explained, and then moved past and it's REALLY SCARY.

-

Then, does this line remind anyone else of Macbeth? Specifically the scene where he sees the line of Banquo's descendants. Like, compare these two texts:

The hobbits did not understand his words, but as he spoke they had a vision as it were of a great expanse of years behind them, like a vast shadowy plain over which there strode shapes of Men, tall and grim with bright swords, and last came one with a star on his brow.

A show of eight kings, the eighth king with a glass in his hand, and Banquo last. MACBETH  Thou art too like the spirit of Banquo. Down! Thy crown does sear mine eyeballs. And thy hair, Thou other gold-bound brow, is like the first. A third is like the former. [...] A fourth? Start, eyes! What, will the line stretch out to th’ crack of doom? Another yet? A seventh? I’ll see no more. And yet the eighth appears who bears a glass Which shows me many more, and some I see That twofold balls and treble scepters carry.

Obviously it's not a one-to-one comparison, but the Vibes are similar. (The use of the phrase 'crack of doom' in the Macbeth passage is also interesting, although I think that's probably a coincidence rather than anything else) LotR obviously has other well-known Macbeth connections, but this is one I only just noticed. (I really hope this comes off as similar to someone else and I'm not just coming up with nonsense)

-

As soon as his back was turned, a dark figure climbed quickly in over the gate and melted into the shadows of the village street.

I LOVE THIS MOMENT because reading it for the first time, anyone's first assumption is that this is going to be a Black Rider, but (spoilers) IT'S NOT! What a brilliant little subversion!

-

Frodo, Pippin, and Sam decided to join the company. Merry said it would be too stuffy. 'I shall sit here quietly by the fire for a bit, and perhaps go out later for a sniff of the air. Mind your Ps and Qs, and don't forget that you are supposed to be escaping in secret, and are still on the high-road and not very far from the Shire!'

If only they'd listened to Merry... I feel like Merry's practicality and good sense gets overlooked a lot. In these early chapters his status as 'most well traveled of the group' really comes across

-

Suddenly Frodo noticed that a strange-looking weather-beaten man, sitting in the shadows near the wall, was also listening intently to the hobbit-talk. He had a tall tankard in front of him, and was smoking a long-stemmed pipe curiously carved. His legs were stretched out before him, showing high boots of supple leather that fitted him well, but had seen much wear and were now caked with mud. A travel-stained cloak of heavy dark-green cloth was drawn close about him, and in spite of the heat of the room he wore a hood that overshadowed his face; but the gleam of his eyes could be seen as he watched the hobbits.

Words cannot express how much I love this description (and Strider's introduction as a whole)

-

There is an inn, a merry old inn beneath an old grey hill, And there they brew a beer so brown That the Man in the Moon himself came down one night to drink his fill. [...]

*The Cat and the Moon from the LotR musical starts blasting in my head*

-

And now... the Aragorn list... (my thoughts are in list format because otherwise I will just be pasting large chunks of the entry here, and I've already done enough of that)

what was he doing behind the hedge on the Road???

"I slipped over the gate just behind them." and there's the payoff to that spooky moment earlier!!! It goes from 'oooh a Black Rider might have followed them' to 'nope, it was actually just this dude who wants to help them' to 'OH SHIT THE BLACK RIDERS WERE ALREADY HERE' a little later. Good stuff :D

"a secret that concerned me and my friends" I'm curious which friends he means here. Probably the Dunedain, maybe the sons of Elrond as well? Anyway, it's a fun little note

Okay now I need to break the list format because WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT ARAGORN'S RELATIONSHIP WITH THE RIDERS

'[...] They will come on you in the wild, in some dark place where there is no help. Do you wish them to find you? They are terrible!' The hobbits looked at him, and saw with surprise that his face was drawn as if with pain, and his hands clenched the arms of his chair. The room was very quiet and still, and the light seemed to have grown dim. For a while he sat with unseeing eyes as if walking in distant memory or listening to sounds in the Night far away.

So uh, Aragorn doesn't just know OF the Riders, he knows the Riders. He's obviously speaking from experience here, and iirc this is never expanded upon. What happened between them? And when did it happen?

'[...]I am afraid my only answer to you, Sam Gamgee, is this. If I had killed the real Strider, I could kill you. And I should have killed you already without so much talk. If I was after the Ring, I could have it – NOW!'   He stood up, and seemed suddenly to grow taller. In his eyes gleamed a light, keen and commanding. Throwing back his cloak, he laid his hand on the hilt of a sword that had hung concealed by his side. They did not dare to move. Sam sat wide-mouthed staring at him dumbly.   'But I am the real Strider, fortunately,' he said, looking down at them with his face softened by a sudden smile. 'I am Aragorn son of Arathorn; and if by life or death I can save you, I will.'

Chills. I love him. So much. Also, SURPRISE! It's art time!!

[ID: A digital drawing of Aragorn from Lord of the Rings. He has pale skin and shoulder length dark brown hair. He is wearing a brown quilted vest, brown trousers, a cream shirt with puffy sleeves, and a dark green cloak. He is looking slightly down and to his left (image right). His left hand is resting on his chest and his right hand is resting on a sword belted at his waist. The drawing has dark, blue-gray lighting and the background is a rough blue-gray rectangle. /end id]

Andddd now for one more thought: there is no mention of him having a second sword, which implies that his ONLY WEAPON in these DANGEROUS TIMES is just the shards of Narsil. Unhinged behavior, I love that for him

Moving on from Aragorn now! (although I will have many more things to say about him later)

-

'[the Black Rider] seemed to make off up the Road, eastward,' continued Merry. 'I tried to follow. Of course, it vanished almost at once; but I went round the corner and on as far as the last house on the Road.'

MERRY. WTF. Okay so this is 1) extremely brave and 2) not actually a terrible idea in theory. Trying to find out where the Rider was going and what it was doing would be smart, IF IT WASN'T ONE OF THE ENEMY'S MOST DANGEROUS SERVANTS THAT SHOULD BE AVOIDED AT ALL COSTS

-

[Merry said] "I could hardly help myself. I seemed to be drawn somehow."

FORESHADOWING????? Actually looking at both this and the thing with the wights that I talked about at the beginning of this ramble, merry actually has a pretty strong link with the wraiths from the beginning, which is INTERESTING!

-

Okay I think that's everything I wanted to say. I'm so sad this took me so long to write because now there's been a whole WEEK of entries that I haven't talked about or done art for :((( Weathertop at least will probably get some love at some point, but rn my art brain is telling me to draw the entire cast of the musical so we'll see how I balance things :)

[revvethasmythh]

Share your reunion widobrave thoughts please?? Only if you want to but I would love to hear them!

Apologies for how long this took to reply to! Most of that time has been spent trying to figure out how to phrase this in a way that doesn't sound utterly deranged, though conceptually, I understand it kind of is. So, for formality's sake, I am now donning my shippers cap, and am not to be held liable for making more thoughtful/thought out meta on this topic atm. Currently, we are simply living in the Widobrave Enrichment Zone™️.

Okay, with that disclaimer out of the way, let's continue!

Essentially, my widobrave thoughts re: the reunion are pretty deeply tied to whoever said during m9 reunited two-shot that Caleb and Veth were behaving like a divorced couple sharing custody of Luc, because it was a very funny, on-point comparison considering Veth would literally take Luc all the way to Rexxentrum (with Yeza holding down the fort at home, presumably, while they were both gone) regularly enough that Veth was stated as probably keeping spare clothes at Caleb's place. Like Caleb gets every other weekend with Luc and Veth or something. And that vibe to the Luc-Caleb relationship has persisted even seven years down the line to excellent effect. Like, I have derived an incredible amount of joy from Caleb's extremely concerned, angry, and fairly paternal treatment of Luc during the one-shot that really delivered to me the essence of "Caleb is Luc's father with partial custody and suddenly has to take emergency custody of The Child when he wasn't expecting to."

Like I said, none of this is necessarily meant to be productive, thoughtful meta, but it has brought me a great deal of joy and enrichment in my environment nonetheless. And, really, what else can we ask of our joyful shipper's minds but that?

[charlesdesvoeux]

top five terror ships?

sorry it took me a while to answer! I wanted to offer some fic recs as well so it took me some time to put it together (MIND THE WARNINGS IN EACH FIC, SOME OF THEM DEAL WITH VERY HEAVY SUBJECT MATTER), but here it goes:

-> Stanvoeux: yeah. hmmm. only 1 canon interaction yadda yadda but the POTENTIAL. the 2 nastiest guys on the expedition. stanley the perfect sadist and des voeux the perfect masochist. to borrow a phrase @favouritefi applied to a whole different ship they're having the kind of sex that increases the defcon level.

favorite fics: Panic at the Fun-Plex (1980s AU, both hot and heartbreaking), Keyed Up and of course To Have and Have Not (aka the atticwife au)

-> Armitozer: i'm forever thankful to the people who first excavated the tozer/armitage love story out of the dephts of the show because it is REAL TO ME. idk man i think there's potential for "do i want him or do i want to be him?" what with tommy's whole yearning to be a marine, and just. the way he followed him into mutiny, into complete ruin, saw him become a shell of the man he once was- and yet he kept loving him... makes me crazy.

favorite fics: a gunner good (kinda monsterfuckery au which i love dearly), damn your wife i'd be your mistress... (armisolving, a lovely work) and my love is on the high seas.

-> Joplittle: i must admit i was not a joplittle girlie but i've read some incredible fics and now i'm a convert. i like it best when they're very tender. lots and lots of yearning and not knowing what the other is feeling until that climactic moment when it all comes spilling out. of course in canon they share in the burden of caring for Crozier and keeping his secrets as he's drying out. and little's smile when jopson is made lieutenant!!! and the angst potential as jopson is left behind and dies. amazing stuff.

favorite fics: the vinegar and pearl-ash series, the maternal instincts series, and the comforts of home

-> Hickeygibson: there is just. so much love there, the real genuine thing, even if it manifests as this weird game of cat and mouse (in which they alternate the roles), so much need. everyone is so easy to read and figure out, except for Billy. everyone is so boring and predictable, except for Cornelius. there's this lorde lyric that reminds me of them- "they'll talk about us and discover how we kissed then killed each other" which yeah. that's them.

favorite fics: Three-Time, Meditations Made While Standing Upon the Shale of King William's Land (a poem, and really heartbreaking), Kissing with Tongue

-> Irving x Malcolm: please bear with me. this is uhhh. verging on RPF but to be clear although William Elphinstone Malcolm isn't mentioned in any point of AMC The Terror I just choose to believe that he also exists in that universe and that he shares that very close friendship with John that their real life counterparts had (speaking of the real life guys go read their letters right now). the idea of John having fallen deeply in love with his best friend and just not allowing himself to dwell on these feelings, feeling both joy and shame whenever he gets a letter, maybe not even fully realizing that he's in love??? it makes me CRAZY. so yeah. (disclaimer: i make no claims as to the nature of irl!irving's attachment to malcolm, these people are long dead and this is probably impossible to ascertain, the version I ship is within the showverse).

favorite fics: there are only 12 :-( my favorites are Live for Yesterday; if not, in the next; and the soft animal of your body series (primarily hartnell/irving, but with some great irving/malcolm bits)

[emotionally-charged-arson]

A Very, Very Unfinished Pile of Theory of Everything Headcanons (Ayreon)

Last semester, my English final was a presentation relating the overall theme of the Forever saga to that of the more popular works of H.G. Wells. Details of that argument aside, the thesis was that Ayreon’s emotional core was the presence of small-scale acts of love juxtaposed against large-scale existential tragedy, balanced in their individual power. That we are messy and self-destructive, and in the grand scheme of things we mean very little in the universe, but we are resilient and alive and human and that has to be worth something.

I really like this aspect of the main story, and it got me a perfect score on that assignment. It had a ten minute time limit and I was fighting for my life to stay under it. While I was downsizing the script, I couldn’t help but think of an earlier idea I had drafted about how The Theory of Everything on its own was a really incredible example of the mad scientist archetype turned completely on its head (it was a science-fiction analysis class). Specifically how that script was almost three times longer than the original H.G. Wells one, that took me a solid twenty minutes to read aloud. 

I literally wrote an hour long lecture about The Theory of Everything. No headcanons. No extra theories. Literally just picking apart its canon plot. 

I think this is why I have so little extra writing for it. The story as its given is airtight and just…fucking incredible. Arjen wrote it with a very clear theme in mind like he did with Transitus, but TToE isn’t missing half of its story because he couldn’t pull in the cash to make a movie out of it. You can feel the intention behind every single character, they feel like real people, it has so many layers to it and it is literally, objectively, the greatest prog album ever made. Fight me. 

But anyways: For lack of better phrasing, there isn’t much to “fix” in that sense. Almost all the headcanons I have for The Source or Transitus boil down to a few things:

I was being self-indulgent with a favorite character and it snowballed into a genuinely informative trait/subplot that informs the main story (a certain hc I have where Henry just fucking shoots Daniel in the back by mistake sometime between Two Worlds and Talk of the Town, turning into this weirdly effective commentary of how Daniel is conditioned to his brother’s shitty behavior and Abby hauling ass to get him out of that headspace)

I am curious about aspects of an album’s worldbuilding and get a little excited while filling in the blanks that were perfectly fine being left alone (doing mental gymnastics trying to build a version of The Source where these five academics, three politicians, two religious figures, one robot and one random spaceman viably know each other)

The rarer option that I am genuinely disappointed by how a part of the story was handled and completely ignore this small part of canon to make the overall story be more effective. Or attempt it, at least (Lavinia’s entire character undermining Transitus’ themes and her contradicting her own motivations, and me, in turn, just writing her character from scratch while keeping with the basic story beats [her seeing ghosts, doing shady shit with Henry, etc.])

But with TToE I’ve felt very little need to do any of these. If I were to really dive into it with intention I think I would start building off of the whole bank robbery plot in Phase III (just a slightly weirdly framed plot point for me), but I haven’t thought about it. It’s not that glaring of an issue and there’s few other places in the story where I think adding anything would make it more effective. 

This isn’t to say that Transitus and The Source are objectively worse in any sense, but they leave a lot more up to interpretation, allowing me to write so many add ons that they become structured and essential to each other’s function. 

It’s fun with those two albums. With TToE I really have to look for cracks to fill and it’s kind of useless. 

Not entirely, though. I’ve got a few hcs, and maybe they’ll warrant dozens of google doc pages of context one day like the other two albums: 

Two central things sparked curiosity. Setting, and how the parent characters came to hate each other that much. Naturally. 

This started four-ish years ago when I was pacing around my parents’ house with TToE on the mind (as it often is), and my brother put on this show called His Dark Materials. I watched the intro to it all of one time and just…knew this was the aesthetic TToE should have.🔗 At least combined with dark academia. It’s an album about physics and ghosts, that seems reasonable enough. 

…funnily enough, as I later found out, His Dark Materials itself has a very dark-academia-esque vibe, and the plot is entirely based upon the intersectionality between science and mysticism and trivial human attempts to make sense of it. 

So. Pretty fitting. 

This really stuck with me, and a handful of the characteristics of the show and books became the basis for the way I picture The Theory of Everything. Mainly the visual aesthetic, like I said, but also the fact that the story starts at a parallel version of Oxford University. I don’t have some giant case study for this like with Transitus/New England. I just think it’d be a cool and vibey setting. Maybe it’s the American in me but there’s something about a thousand-year-old college with a campus made of literal goddamn castles that borders on the fantastic. 

From there, you have a decent excuse for The Prodigy to run off to Ireland, where you can choose from one of like 200 different pretty little isolated lighthouses for him to lose his mind in, far enough away for him not to be found as long as he did. Not to mention it lowkey matches with the overt Celtic influence of the music. Or Scotland, if you want some weather symbolism from the North Sea. 

Solid setting, if I say so myself, and it actually influenced the family’s whole situation. Here, The Father (Mike) is a physics professor at Oxford, and The Mother (Cristina) is the director of the Bodleian Library. It’s how and where they meet in 1991 (though the mother is in an attendant position at the time), as shown by the only part of this I have drawn out:

They hit it off, and marry in 1993. Their first and only child is born two years later and they love him half to death. Everything is more or less nice and normal. 

In 1996, Mike stumbles into “proof,” more or less, of the theory of everything being a singular, solvable equation through his work, practically by accident, and begins focused work on it with enthusiastic support from his wife. Life is going great, Cristina is promoted and the two are balancing things well enough. 

The boy shows little to no social development into his toddler years, but his parents don’t think much of it. His father was similar at his age; they’re not worried. They even go as far to say he’ll turn out just as ambitious and smart as his dad and relatives, coworkers and family friends go along with it, setting insanely high expectations for this literal three year old. Mike keeps working on his theory. 

The boy enters preschool at age four; still no improvement. Just isolates himself and draws indiscernible patterns on everything you put in front of him. His parents finally try to intervene to some degree, hiring private instructors and talking with some other psych/child development people they know through the university, to no avail. Nothing changes. He just stares off into space, doesn’t interact with any of them and supposedly doesn’t pay attention to lessons. He still isn’t speaking. Cristina is finally concerned

Around the same time, Mike makes a significant breakthrough in his work, gaining worldwide attention. He receives massive grants from in and outside of Oxford to continue his work, and quits his teaching job to make more time for the endeavor. Cristina is left as the family’s sole provider. She understands and is in agreement on that decision, that’s not the problem yet. The problem is that Mike is becoming more or less indifferent to their son hits five, not seeing any previously projected greatness he was supposed to have in his father’s footsteps. Cristina, much more conscious of balance in her life and how having kids works, isn’t sure what to make of that. Their relationship starts to strain. 

From there, as Mike keeps working, Cristina takes the kid to all sorts of specialists around England but none of them can pinpoint what’s “wrong” with him. She tries much more actively to connect with him like they’re telling her to (though she still enrolls him in the university’s affiliated primary school program, against their suggestions), bringing him everywhere. Buys him little memory games since that’s all that seems to hold his attention. She’s past any belief of him being some secret genius like his dad, not that her opinion of her husband is super positive at this point anyway. She’s just dead-set on her son having some sense of normal in his life. 

By 2002, Mike has completely secluded himself and works nearly constantly. He has made no progress on his theory since 1999 and the fame garnered from his breakthrough has faded. The family is running out of money and Cristina is exhausted. The boy is ostracized at school and still (almost) totally nonverbal. Her coworkers keep suggesting these weird holistic remedies that she refuses. She knows better than to fall for all that new age, pyramid scheme bullshit. 

The son’s condition, whatever it is, worsens until mom, desperate, puts her foot down in 2008 (or “gives up,” if you wanna put it like that) and drags her husband and son to this private practice in Scotland she was told about by a friend, suspicious but ready to put up with anything at this point. 

😐👍

[anonymousfoz]

December 6, 2023

Two men walked through the graveyard near the facility. It was recovering from the outburst. The first man was tall. He wore a special military uniform. His hat and yellow goggles were off on the table. Over his grey uniform sat a bulletproof vest, and the phrase "S.C.P." was on his uniform on his left arm, and a revolver hoisted around his waist. The other man was a little smaller, in a nice newly bought red and green tux and wearing a Christmas hat.

The two men stopped, and the olden man took off his hat before placing it near his chest. The second man stopped to look down. He was confused by the unnatural behavior before it dawned. These were soldiers killed in the Mariah attack.

"Which-"

"Tobias Thomas Turkey, 15." The olden man started. "He had so much left in his life yet decided to sacrifice himself to save others. Thomas was a quiet lad with a curious mind. He wanted to fix things and learn how they worked. Always came in with a wholesome mood and seemed to shed light on others. His smart wits and incredible technology prowess saved more lives than lost. May he rest in peace among the stars as we were truly an angel among us mortals."

"And the second one?"

"Salem G. Hallows Eve, 21, Salem showed her courage even till her death. To protect others was her duty. A sister to most, but a role model to all. Through thick and thin, she was always there for anyone who needed help. She showed she was willing to give it all up to save the rest. She wasn't with us as long as Thomas was, but her impact was almost as great. She came from the military and quickly found a home with the rest of us. To never hear her again is something worse than death. For in my late 40s, I have never found another soul with such wisdom and rage. May she rest among the stars and the deep vacuum of space. Hopefully, the two remain with each other, watching over each other and the lives of everyone they saved."

"So, just kids." The older man went quiet before he responded minutes later.

"Brave, innocent people, you helped to kill for a dumb parade."

"Mister Jackson, we don't have to start doing the blame game. Besides businesses is a market that kills, their family has gotten money for our simple mistake." The older man scoffed, causing the businessman sweat. "Machine accidents do happen."

"You people make me sick. You always think money solves issues. Money doesn't take back the lives lost."

"What does?" The older man smiled before pulling out his revolver and shooting the business man in his leg. The businessman fell hugging his leg while screaming swears. The somber man walked him to the businessman with a smile.

"I would kill you…" he smiled at the pain of the other. "But that would be too easy. Making you feel the pain and fear they went through is much more satisfying. To see the life flash in your eyes. Money doesn't fix that."

"You're a psychopath!" And with that, the older man turned around to take a drink in honor of his fallen comrades before walking off, leaving the businessman to bleed. All that was left for him was to get drunk until he could no longer feel the empty hole that was left from the loss of the most important people of his life.

As for the business man, Mister Jackson was right about one thing. The two remained together, not as angels or souls among stars…. but rather guardians. The businessman couldn't believe his eyes. It was as if two holidays were above him. He figured that Tobias' was Thanksgiving as the giant pilgrim dressed Turkey stood overhead. On the other hand, Salem was a large black cat with witch like features. A cat witch was a clever idea for marketing. Damn his mind for his logic of thinking, but it didn't matter now. The business man begged for his life, but the two animals remained silent. Eventually, the cat was the first to talk with a familiar voice… a haunting one nevertheless.

"What to do with you? So many ideas come to mind, but only one is set in stone. If you get my drift Tobias"

"Surprisingly, for once I do. For only one as selfish as yourself deserves a fate more cold than Christmas snow." The turkey stopped as the cat began to cackle in the irony as the three remained outside in snow. "Irony aside, the only thing left of you shall be iron." The businessman looked down at his hands as they began to stiffen, and a sliver substance began to coat him.

"You shall be a perfect example of what happens to those who try to mess with the natural order of time." The businessman began to move before his legs were solid stone, and only then he began to apologize, but it was already too late. He was nothing but stone. The cat let out loud laughter, which seemed to disturb the turkey. "Oh, come on, Tobias, let me have some morbid fun. After all, it fits me perfectly."

"Oh sure, and I suppose feathers fit me pretty well. I didn't ask for my last name to be Turkey." The two walked away, leaving no trace of them. They had a new purpose in their extended life, and a trip to the North Poll was soon on their way to meet with the man himself, Santa Claus.