#but its supposed to go down to -16 which um does not really happen here

[allbeendonebefore]

didn’t think i’d actually get snowed in lads but guess what

[shortprince-cos]

Patton's Normal And Totally Not Angsty Birthday

Summary: Patton was fully expecting to spend his birthday with his stuffed animals and pictures instead of actual people, but his famILY had other secret plans.

Warnings: Crying, being alone for an extended period of time, angst, slight innuendo. Tell me if I need to add anything else!

Pairings: Platonic DRLAMP (all)

{Masterlist}

~~~~~

Patton was fully expecting to spend his birthday with his stuffed animals and pictures instead of actual people.

It wasn't a far-fetched idea, considering what had happened earlier last year. Everyone was still on their toes from the...fight.

It wasn't a fight though! It was more like a...big disagreement. That kind of maybe split everyone apart and left Patton alone...

But it was fine! Everyone just needed some alone time! Even if it had been awhile - a long while - since the incident. They just needed to think about things, and when they were ready, Patton would apologize and they would hopefully accept!

Hopefully...

Patton turned in his bed again, trying to sleep for the umpteenth time that night.

He sighed and eventually sat up, glancing at the clock. It said it was 4:16 in the morning, now it was technically January fifteenth.

Happy birthday to him.

Patton wiped the tears off his face and put on his glasses and his cat hoodie. Well, if it was his birthday, he might as well have a cupcake and make a wish. He'd probably need it, to be fully honest.

Patton meandered through the hallway, glancing at everyone's different colored doors. Everyone was probably asleep.

He remembers when it used to be just three doors in the hallway. Just Morality, Creativity, and Logic. Was it simpler then? Or were they just living in ignorance?

"No one knows you better than yourself, am I right, Tony?"

"I know big words too! Ssssssaxophone-"

"Who knows what'll happen if you don't adopt them, and they need a good home!"

"Anything he darn well pleases!"

...Maybe he was the only one not taking things seriously. They say ignorance is...better to live in, and Patton was basically swimming in it before his wake up call.

"We need actual contributions from you, now and then."

Is that why this happened? Maybe he's been ignorant of all the actual dilemmas this entire time. That's how everything went wrong! He didn't just suddenly not know what to do, he never knew what to do! He just hid it with jokes and puns and silly commentary to 'lighten the mood', but really he was just a distraction from their actual problems.

Patton hugged himself as he stood in the hallway, surrounded by the doors of his friends. Well, if they still wanted to be his friend.

Patton glanced at the dark purple door in the hall, cringing at the memories that came with it.

"Now Anxiety, if you don't want to participate, you can just sit this one out."

"Awww you poor little anxious baby!"

"And what about Anxiety, he always seems to get you down."

Patton swiped his tears away, hurriedly making his way down the hall to the staircase.

Janus didn't have a door here yet; he said he'd rather stay with the others in the hidden side of the mindscape.

Probably because of how awful they all were to him.

"Deceit, standing in the spot of one of my four best friends."

"Um, you're in my spot."

"Because Thomas gave his word, but you wouldn't know anything about words, would'ja mister?"

"I may be amphibian, but I can't say that I am fibbin'!"

God, they were so terrible to him. No wonder he doesn't like being around any of them.

Patton's hands shook as he gripped the banister at the top of the stairs, holding in his silent sobs.

All of this is his fault. He caused the rift in his famILY.

Suddenly he heard voices from downstairs. Wasn't everyone in bed? It was four in the morning, who would be up right now?

Patton wiped the tears off his face for the umpteenth time and took deep breaths, trying to steady himself.

He stalked down the top stairs slowly, trying to listen in onto what the voice was saying.

"Listen," A voice whispered. "I'm just pointing out all the possibilities."

"More like all the negabilities, seeing how all of them are negative." Another snarked.

"Just- does he even wanna see us? We basically ghosted him for months. We didn't even include him on the Nico situation. Why didn't we do that, he's the heart! He's like, the most important side for that!"

Oh. They were talking about him.

Patton debated leaving, going down there, or keep on listening before another voice spoke up.

"I doubt he would not wish to see us. If anything, I believe he would like to talk about what happened."

"Logan, we're talking about Patton here. If we talk, he'll just say he's fine when he's clearly not fine."

"That's not true." One obviously lied.

So all four of them were downstairs talking about him. Wait, isn't there supposed to be five-

"Hi Potty-cakes!" Remus suddenly shouted from behind him.

Patton shrieked in surprise, before almost tumbling down the stairs before someone caught him.

"Pat! Are you okay?!" Virgil said, slowly helping Patton to his feet.

"Y-Yeah, I'm perfect!" He said, plastering his Patton-ted fake smile.

Virgil squinted at him. "Pat, have you been crying?"

Ah. Guess the smile didn't work.

Patton noticed that everyone was crowded around him, including Janus, which meant that lying was out of the question.

"Uh- kinda?" Another smile.

Someone swore under their breath as Logan spoke up. "Patton, what are you doing awake at this hour? Don't you normally get up at seven?"

Patton stood up straightly instead of leaning on Virgil. "Oh, I just woke up and couldn't fall back asleep! What're you guys...?" Patton started as he finally looked around the room, noticing the balloons, streamers, and a banner that they had used for every birthday Patton had had.

"...doing?" He finished.

"Uh-" Roman started. "Well uh- we were kind of...surprising you with a birthday party?" He shrugged nervously.

Patton stood shocked for a moment. They were throwing him a surprise birthday party? Why? Why would they do that- weren't they mad at him? There's no way they would just suddenly not be mad at him! What was happening?!

"Pat, what's wrong?" Janus suddenly asked, putting a gloved hand on Patton's shoulder.

"I'm fine, why?" He answered on instinct.

"Padre, you're crying." Roman explained.

Patton touched his cheek, and sure enough, he was crying. "O-Oh. I guess I am."

Another hand gripped his wrist. "Pop-star, are you okay?" Virgil asked with concern and sincerity in his voice.

Patton immediately started sobbing. "No, no I'm not."

Some tentacles wrapped around him from behind - probably Remus - as a bunch of arms started surrounding him as well, securely trapping him in a hug.

Patton kept crying into someone's shoulder as multiple people kept whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

Eventually, Patton had stopped crying, just enjoying the feeling of a hug - a hug! - surrounding him.

Then, they started pulling away, leaving Patton with traces of warmth left over.

"Patton, are you alright?" Logan asked with concern in his eyes.

Patton rubbed at his eyes again and sniffled. "Y-Yeah. I'm just overwhelmed, I guess. I kinda expected to spend today alone..."

Everyone made a noise of either surprise or concern.

"Patton I..." Roman started, looking at the ground in guilt. "I didn't mean to make you feel alone, I just-" He sighed. "I talked to De-Janus, and he helped me realize that it wasn't like you were trying to make me the bad guy, you were just trying to tell me that Janus wasn't one either. So, I planned a party to apologize to you, and well, I guess the surprise is ruined."

Patton immediately hugged Roman the minute he stopped talking. Roman chuckled, but Patton could hear the tears in his voice.

"I'm- I'm so sorry I-"

"Shh, don't be." Roman comforted. "We all forgive you."

After another minute of hugging, Logan cleared his throat.

"While this moment is very touching and much needed, it is currently almost five in the morning, so I suggest we all take a nap before we get into the festivities."

Everyone made noises of agreement, when Patton interrupted.

"Um- could we-?" Patton started before cutting himself off.

"What's up, Pat?" Virgil asked.

"Uh- I-I just thought that maybe we could..."

"Cuddle on the couch?" Janus finished with a smirk on his face.

Patton nodded with blush on his face.

"Ooo sexy~"

"Remus, I swear to all things princely-" Roman started before the twins started arguing and Logan had to break them up before they could brawl in the living room.

Eventually, everyone on the was cuddled up on the couch and snuggling in one way or another, and Patton couldn't be more content.

~~~~~

Whoo! I finished on time!!!!!!!! I'm so proud of myself for writing this in one day! Though, I think it's a bit rushed, I forgive myself for that tho because it was written in one day lol

Ty for reading! I really enjoyed writing Patton angst again lol!

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Reblogs are appreciated!💖

[fallingfor-fics]

Teachers Pet-chapter 17: wanting

All chapters

chapter 16

Potions seemed to drag on forever, Snape was just teaching a lesson, his velvety monotone voice going on and on about a potion we were gonna brew soon. I was trying my best to stay awake, I was still very exhausted and his voice was slowly lulling me to sleep. My eyelids felt heavy and I let them close for one second, or so I thought. I began drifting off and it was too difficult to open them again. I could hear his voice get quieter as I slipped into unconsciousness. I should have known better, I saw a kid fall asleep in his class once and he practically hexed them, he took away house points and yelled at the boy, which ensured he never made that mistake again. 

I jumped awake to a tap on my shoulders. My head was now on the table on my arms and I opened my eyes to see Draco staring at me. "Y/n, come on class is over." he said, collecting his books. "What?" I looked around and saw most of the kids had already left and Snape wasn't anywhere to be seen. "Where's Professor Snape? Why didn't he wake me up? Why didn't you wake me up!" I said lightly shoving his shoulder as we headed out of the classroom. "He left as soon as the bell rang, and I didnt think I needed to, I mean I tried and you didn't move so I figured you needed the sleep." He said smiling. "How odd that he did not get angry with me, did he even say anything?" I asked as we went to the Slytherin common room. "No, when he looked and saw you asleep he just rolled his eyes and kept teaching, I guess he figured if you have the time to sleep, then you don't need to learn haha" I thought over what he was saying, that's not like Snape at all why would he do that? And he knows I'm bad at potions so you would think he'd want me to pay attention.

We went to our rooms for our free period and I said I'd see him at dinner. I was alone in my room and decided to get the book out I had stolen from Snape's room earlier. I began from the start and read the first few chapters, I noticed it began getting dark out and looked at the clock, "Great I missed dinner." I realized I had gotten through almost half of the book, it was very informational, and sadly to say, was giving me some ideas. I mean there's no way I could earn Severus' affections but a girl can dream right? I got my bag and quickly headed out to make it to Snapes lessons. "Draco! So sorry I missed Dinner I got caught up reading!" I said seeing him in the common room, "Oh that's ok I actually saved you this dinner" he said handing me a dinner roll. I smiled taking it from him, "thanks so much I'll catch you later!" I took a bite of the roll not realizing how hungry I was and headed to the potions classroom. The door was closed so I stood there and knocked on it. Recalling when Severus rescued me from the weird encounter with Lockhart that one day, I smiled to myself thinking about how he's always been there in my times of need, so conveniently.

"Come in" I heard him say from the other side and I walked in smiling, taking another bite of my roll. "Evening Professor," I said, sitting down in Dracos seat. It was closer to Snape's desk, easier to hear him from here of course, no other reason. "Today I figured we would look over the Amortentia potion" he said looking up at me, I dropped my smile, that was the potion he was teaching earlier that I so happened to have fallen asleep during the lesson. "About that," I said, getting up and walking over to his desk, "I wanted to know why you didn't wake me up during class." I said fiddling with my fingers. He looked down at his papers thinking for a moment. "I figured you deserved it after last night, although you should have indeed been awoken, I didn't want to disturb the lesson either." He said not looking up at me. "About last night.." I began "No need to discuss the matter Ms.L/n, It was wrong of me to have not sent you back to your dormitory immediately." He interrupted. "What? No..I wanted to thank you once more, It was almost a miracle you showed up when you did, and not punishing me, it helped a lot, I've been having a rough time and i'm glad you were there." I said within a small smile, I hoped this wasnt to far a reach and he didn't find it weird, I mean he was just comforting a student, nothing more. He didn't say anything he just stared down at his papers, I had said too much. I turned and sat back down. "We should get started." he said, stacking his papers. "Right." I said not looking up at him. It fell silent and I needed to break the silence, "Professor how well do you know Professor Lockhart?" I said looking up at him. "As well as any teacher I suppose why?" he asked furrowing his brows. "If I tell you something will you promise not to get angry and get me in trouble?" I said looking around and then pulling my chair up to his desk. He straightened up and looked at me with worried eyes.

"I might regret it, but sure." he said with a sarcastic tone. "Um, well... During Defense Against the Dark Arts today, we were practicing the protection spell, and I didnt have a partner again, and so Lockhart made me practice with him. He said to do easy spells to practice against. And at the end of class I was arguing with him because he used a dueling spell and he proceeded to say it was because he knew I could 'handle' it," he continued listening to me closely growing more and more confused and concerned as I went on. "And he was like 'watch' and raising his wand, and I wasn't prepared and I didnt know what he was going to do.." I looked down at my hands scared to let out the last part, "And so out of defense I hit him with Expelliarmus and he flew across his desk." I said breathing out the last part. Snape's eyes went wide for a moment and then his mouth grew into a small smile. I let my shoulders relax at his response and let out a light chuckle. "Wow Y/n you really like to test this mans limits." he said back in his normal tone. "He just makes me so furious, and I was so shocked he pulled his wand on me without a heads up so I got afraid." I added. "Are you gonna tell Dumbledore?" I asked with furrowed brows. "Well what did Lockhart do about it?" he asked looking in my eyes, I shifted in my seat, he had such an intense stare and his dark eyes looked so strong. "You see, that's the weird part, he didn't do anything," at this he returned his face to its normal stern look and looked a tad shocked, "All he said was 'be careful, you never know the consequences of your actions' and then let me leave." I said using air quotes and mocking his voice.

But Snape did not seem amused, he just looked away and dropped his gaze on my eyes and looked at the wall in thought I presumed. He didn't say anything or the next minute and I grew worried, "What?" he didn't respond. "Severus what is it?!" I said raising my voice a tad looking in his eyes. He snapped his gaze to me and opened his mouth to speak, "Dont scold me for using your name, what are you thinking about." "Nothing Ms. L/n, it's fine I just wonder why he did not assign you a detention. And I told you not to call me Severus'' Wow. The way he said his own name was beautiful, but now's not the time for this. "Well we are friends now, and friends don't use formalities such as Ms. L/n and Mr. Snape" I said jokingly but he didn't seem amused, "Definitely do not call me Mr. Snape" he said in a cold tone, I guess I hit a soft spot, I mean it makes sense, he didn't like his father and I'm guessing that was what he would hear a lot. "We are friends though, I mean at least here in our lessons, I won't do it during school.." I said reassuring him. "If it will make you focus then fine, now let's get started we have wasted enough time."

Hours had passed and I suggested he teach me how to brew the potion now for practice, and to prevent me from any mishaps in class. But he refused and said to just wait until we did it as a class since it was already so late. I was sitting next to him at his desk since we were going over stuff in the textbook. I went to close it and my arm brushed against his, I paused for a moment and let the feeling linger on my arm, I looked over at him and made eye contact with him, I got up and walked over to my table putting my book down. "I uh was organizing the books today but didn't get to finish, I can do that quickly if you'd like?" I asked, looking at the last bookshelf. "No that's alright" he said, not looking at me. "I-I should probably go now anyways heh '' I said awkwardly collecting my things, "Yes that is probably best" he said shuffling random papers around. "Ok um I will see you in class tomorrow, Goodnight Severus." I said walking to leave, "Goodnight Y/n" I smiled and walked out down the hall. I got to my room and one of my roommates was still awake, I smiled at her as I sat my bags down and sighed, "Y/n you like to read right?" my roommate asked, her name was Ruth and she was pretty popular, she had long dark brown hair and beautiful green eyes. Lots of the boys liked her, but we never became friends, but she was nice. "Yeah I do" I said looking up at her. "Good here, my muggle friend had this sent to me, but I'm not gonna touch it so you can have it." she said, extending the book to me. "Oh t-thank you! Are you sure?" I asked looking up at her hesitantly taking it from her hand, "Yeah at least i'll get some use if you have it." she said smiling, "Well ok thanks" She just nodded and said goodnight turning out her lamp and going to bed. I laid it on my bed and went to get ready to go to sleep.

When I finished I sat on my bed picking up the book, "Lolita" hmm I said reading the title to myself. I put it in my bag and told myself i'd read it once I was done with the one I stole from Severus, I grabbed the small book and continued to read through it, it was actually very helpful, except for the fact I wasn't going to get to try any of these things with him. "If the one your heart desires, does not at first glance your way, find someone to make them envy and draw attention to thine self." Merlin this translation was kind of hard to interpret, unless it was really suggesting to make them jealous, my only issue was no matter who I dated, Severus still wouldn't look at me the way I want him to. I needed to get this idea of him eventually falling for me out of my head. I looked in the margin at at a note that was scribbled in, 'she has found someone' I frowned reading it. This poor person, they must have really wanted things to work with this other girl. I flipped to the beginning to where I left the flower. It was a little white one flattened from the pages. I grabbed my wand and murmured a small "Appare Vestigium" A swirl of gold went over the pages and the flower and a few small fingerprints appeared on the flower. This would show me any magic that was lingering but it was not helpful in finding out where the flower came from and who wrote in this book. I guess I was just gonna have to tell Severus I took it and ask him whose it was, that was going to be fun.

[sohotthateveryonedied]

A Legacy to Protect

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Tim’s parents don’t know he does this. Neither do the nannies. If anyone found out that their nine-year-old boy was out roaming the streets every night after bedtime, climbing fire escapes and leaning over roof ledges to get photos of Batman and Robin, they would have an aneurysm.

(Tim learned that word last week from a medical documentary.)

Tim’s parents don’t know he does this. Neither do the nannies. If anyone found out that their nine-year-old boy was out roaming the streets every night after bedtime, climbing fire escapes and leaning over roof ledges to get photos of Batman and Robin, they would have an aneurysm. (Tim learned that word last week from a medical documentary.) The dynamic duo hasn’t been spotted yet tonight, but there’s still time. They usually do a sweep through Crime Alley between 12:30 and 1:15, according to Tim’s notes. He keeps a notebook small enough to fit in his jacket pocket, the pages scribbled margin to margin with red crayon in honor of the Boy Wonder himself. Tim sits on the roof’s edge, his camera settled beside him. It’s a shiny black one with a strap to hang around his neck and everything, just like a real photographer. Mom and Dad sent it over for Tim’s last birthday while they were touring through Egypt, and it was only a week and a half late this time. Tim doesn’t blame them. His parents work hard, harder than half of the other rich socialites who attend those fancy dinners and balls Tim gets dragged to. We need to present a good image for Gotham, his mom always tells him. If you’re not the best you can be, then there isn’t much of a point in doing anything, is there? I’m really good at pictures, Tim offers. I don’t mean hobbies, sweetheart. Those don’t count. If you want to get anywhere in this world, you need to start focusing on what’s important. Like Drake Industries.

Tim slips his notebook out of his pocket and opens it to a fresh page. Octobur 3, 12:16 a.m. — no sign of batman and robin yet. very cold weather. saw a cat sitting on the sidewalk and tried to pet it but it ran away.

Tim is going to be a great detective one day. He’s already got the surveillance part down. Suddenly the air rings with the crashing sound of trash cans being overturned. Tim quickly pockets his notebook and grabs his camera. He leans over the side of the building, ready to shoot. He scans the dark alley for a criminal, a really quiet angry mob, maybe even the Joker himself hatching a scheme. Instead, all Tim’s lens catches is a stray dog eating scraps from a dumpster. Tim sighs but snaps a photo anyway. Bummer. He leaves the dog to its meal, standing and turning his camera’s gaze to the night sky above. The moon is full, even if the stars are obscured by Gotham’s constant veil of smog. He takes a few pictures, rotating to catch new angles over cracked walls and smoky rooftops. He’s in the middle of snapping a photo of a neon sign for something called the “Booby Trap” when he spots a blur of yellow cape obscure half of the frame. A jolt rolls through Tim and he grins. Finally. He lowers the camera, scanning the area for where the cape went until he finds him. Robin—Dick Grayson—is swinging below, his bright costume stark against the black Gotham streets. He’s laughing about something, chattering to a figure Tim can’t see. But he knows he’s there, keeping to the shadows. Batman. He can’t lose them. Not before he gets some more shots for his hero album. Tim takes as many as he can, following the Boy Wonder with his camera as he flies down the street. It’s like watching the sun rise. He’s graceful, all joyful bounds and tumbles, fluid with every movement. A true Grayson in flight. Tim takes a step backward to keep him in frame, but he’s closer to the edge of the building than he thought he was. With a yelp, Tim’s foot slips off the edge and then he’s lost to gravity altogether. He drops his camera, arms cartwheeling as he falls with a shout. It’s never occurred to Tim until now just how tall two-story buildings really are. It feels like he falls forever, trapped in a bubble of timelessness. Weightlessness. Until he lands. Tim’s leg crashes into the concrete first, buckling on impact with a sickening crack that vibrates through his entire skeletal system. Tim gets out the beginning of a scream, but it’s less than a second later that he lands on his back, the wind getting knocked from his lungs. Panic surges through Tim’s body, ice water injected straight into his veins. He just fell off a building. Tim fell off a building and he definitely heard a snap, even if he can’t feel it yet because of the adrenaline which is another thing that medical documentary said, and he’s too far away to get home and he can’t walk and he doesn’t have a cell phone and he’s all alone in Crime Alley and— Tim gasps. There’s the pain, right on schedule. He whimpers as a throbbing sensation radiates through his leg, amping up in intensity with every beat of his heart. He doesn’t want to look at it, knowing full well that it’s broken. There’s no way it isn’t broken from a fall like that, and his elbow stings so he must have scraped it on his way down. He’s pretty sure he hit his head, too. This is so freaking bad. Taking deep breaths, Tim sits up despite the aches rattling his body. He bites his lip, smothering a whimper when he sees his foot facing a direction that it definitely shouldn’t be facing. It’s broken. It’s so, so broken. Maybe he can set it? Tim read about that once, about how setting broken bones makes them better. If he can figure out how to do it on his own, maybe it’ll be okay. No one needs to find out what happened tonight. As a test, Tim tries to move his leg just an inch. Agony surges through his leg instantly and Tim bursts into tears on the spot. It hurts. Everything hurts so badly and he knows that big boys aren’t supposed to cry—that’s what his dad tells him. Only wimps cry. You’re not a wimp, are you? But Tim’s leg hurts and he’s scared and he doesn’t know what to do, so he bites down on his sleeve and tries to muffle the sobs that burst through. He just wanted to take pictures. That’s it. He wasn’t even doing anything dangerous—he wasn’t fighting bad guys or breaking up scuffles on the street. He only wanted to see his heroes. “Hey, kid? You okay?” Tim flinches, snapping his head up and frantically wiping his tears. The image standing over him takes his breath away. It’s him. Robin. Dick came to save him. Tim can’t see behind the mask, but his face is twisted with concern as he eyes Tim’s predicament. “Yikes. That doesn’t look good.” For some reason that only makes the crying start anew, Tim biting down on his lip in an effort to keep the hitching breaths to a minimum. It must not work because then Robin is kneeling in front of him, his hands warm on Tim’s shoulders. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’ll get you home to your parents, yeah?” Tim sniffles. “They’re not—they’re out of the country. The nanny comes in the morning.” He screwed up. He screwed up so bad. Dick’s brows furrow beneath the mask. “There’s no one watching you?” “I’m responsible.” In spite of the salty tears coursing their way down his cheeks, Tim lifts his chin in an effort to look tough. He can take care of himself, he’s been doing it for years. Dick—Robin, this is Robin—reaches up and touches what must be a communication device in his ear, like they have in spy movies. “B, I’ve got a kid here. He fell off a building and got pretty banged up.” A pause. “He said they’re out of town. Should I take him to Thompkins? Yeah, I can carry him there. Just two blocks, right?” Another pause, this one longer. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be careful. No one’s going to mess with me when I’m lugging around a crippled kid.” He laughs, winking at Tim. “See you back home.” Then he’s facing Tim again. “You got a name, kiddo?” “Tim.” “Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Robin, your hero for the night. Do you have any other injuries I should know about?” “Um.” Tim thinks it over for a moment. “I think I hit my head. And my elbow hurts.” As if Robin can’t perfectly see the bloody scrape there for himself, staining Tim’s sleeve red. His parents are going to be so mad when they find out that he ruined his nice jacket. Robin prods the back of Tim’s head carefully, checking for damage. “What were you doing out so late?” “I...like to take pictures. Stuff like the sky and the street and—” Crud. He completely forgot about the camera. Tim twists, scanning the alleyway until his eyes land on a bulky black shape a good ten feet away. “Oh, no.” Robin follows his line of sight and retrieves the camera, turning it in his hands before handing it over to Tim. “I take it this is yours?” There’s a huge crack right through the middle of the front lens. Tim’s heart sinks. “My parents are going to kill me when they see this.” “Don’t worry, Tim. When your parents see the leg cast and bruises they won’t care about a dumb camera, they’ll be too busy worrying about you.” He clearly hasn’t met Tim’s parents, then. Now that he thinks about it, though, Tim might be in the clear after all. It’s not like Mom and Dad notice much of anything Tim does even when they’re home. He wouldn’t be surprised if they miss the cast and broken camera altogether. “I’m gonna carry you to the clinic, all right? It’s not very far, and I’m friends with the doctor there. She’s super nice, and best of all, she doesn’t snitch.” He stoops down, getting ready to lift Tim into his arms. “This might hurt.” Tim’s eyes widen. “Wait, wait, stop.” Dick’s hands are off him in an instant. “What’s wrong?” “Your—your uniform. I’m going to get blood on it.” There’s already a red smear on his glove from where he touched the back of Tim’s head. “You just fell off a building and you’re worried about my uniform?” “It looks expensive.” Robin laughs. “You don’t need to worry about that, trust me. A few blood stains never hurt anyone. Can I pick you up now?” Tim nods, and then he’s being lifted swiftly in the air, one arm beneath his knees and the other wrapping around his shoulders. Robin was right: it does hurt. Tim lets out a squeak as his broken leg is jostled, sending waves of pain blazing through his nerves. He clutches the camera until its hard edges dig into his palms, just to give himself something to focus on so he doesn’t cry again. “Sorry, sorry,” Robin murmurs as he settles Tim against his chest. “I know it hurts. Don’t worry, Dr. Thompkins will give you some painkillers when we get to the clinic.” Tim doesn’t respond. He’s almost positive that if he opens his mouth now, nothing is going to keep the sobs at bay. He already cried in front of his hero once tonight; he can’t let it happen a second time. As if sensing Tim’s inner turmoil, Robin says as he walks, “It’s okay to cry, you know. I cry all the time. It doesn’t make you any less brave.” That’s the final crack in the dam. Tim lowers his head so his face is turned into Robin’s tunic and lets the tears fall. “It’s okay, Timmy. I’ve got you.”

[downwiththeficness]

A Need So Great-Chapter 6

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~2,900

Warnings: None

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 8.5, 9, 10, 10.5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

True to his word, Carrillo had called her the next day, asked how she was doing.  Eva was barely coherent, but she’d told him that she was okay and he’d let her get back to sleep.  To her surprise, he’d called again on Sunday evening, asking if she felt better and if she had eaten.  She had, but only a little.

Why don’t you take a hot bath, he’d prompted gently. You’ll feel better.

She did. And, she had felt better.  By Monday morning, she was able to pull herself out of bed and head into the office.  Although still sleepy, she felt more rested than she had in possibly years.  Thinking back, Eva could not remember the last time a nesting period had been so fulfilling, or helpful.  Though she was on the upswing, Eva had left the pillows and blankets in place. She could snuggle in them a little longer that night, before the need left her completely.

As her desk, she gathered a new stack of files, flipping through the one on top. It was the death of the informant she’d taken a look at. Eva paused, wondering if she should even read the file. She decided it would look worse if she didn’t. With a sigh, she began reading the first page. And then, the next page. And then she was moving back and forth between reports.

There was a page missing. She thumbed through it, looking to see if it had been collated incorrectly.  It hadn’t. Javier had told her about a tattoo on the victim—it wasn’t included on the pages in front of her. Humming, she stood and went to the records room to see if it had slipped out in transit. It was there that Steve found her.

“Good, you’re here.”

Eva lifted her brows in question, refiling the folder in her hand.

“Javier asked me to find you and send you to help him at the church.”

She laughed, “I’m not religious.”

He put his hands on his hips, “Good, you’ll be objective.”

“Objective about what?”

“The case,” he answered, “Now, come on.  I’ll take you there.”

Before she could argue, he was guiding her out of the building to the parking lot and they were on their way. It took until she was walking up the steps for her to pause and actually think about what she was doing.

“I can’t,” she nearly yelled, both hands coming up in front of her.

Steve rolled his eyes, “You can, let’s go. Javi’s waiting.”

“No,” Eva countered, lowering her voice, “I can’t do field work. I’m not allowed.”

He sucked a breath through his teeth in frustration, “You’re not.  You’re going to mass. Now, in.”

Dragging her feet, Eva followed him in, folding her hands in front of her. It was a really nice church. Lots of stained glass, lots of wood. A confessional off to one side. Big cross with a Jesus on it. She walked up the aisle for what would be the second time in her life. Eva felt out of place the first time, too.

God, she’d been fourteen and so stupid, so trusting of her parents and of—of Joshua. He was smart and handsome and a fucking doctor. So stupid. So trusting. Eva could still remember that she was excited to be a wife, that she had thanked God for making happen so fast for her. She’d prayed that she would be a good partner for him, that she would learn fast. Eva had stopped believing in God the day after she got married.

Javi was standing with a priest at the back—or was it the front—of the church. They were talking animatedly, smiles all around. Eva followed Steve, waiting to be introduced.

“Eva, this is Father Martin.”

She gave a little half wave, “Hello.”

“He’s got a youth baseball league running this summer, they just got new uniforms.”

“That’s great,” she said, wondering where this was going.

“They even bought all the players new cleats.  Isn’t that great?”

His expression told her that what he was saying was meaningful, and Eva was a little embarrassed that it took her a few moments to catch on. She cleared her throat and smiled congenially at the group.

“Um, could I use your restroom?”

Father Martin gestured to a hall tucked behind the confessional, “Yes, of course.”

Eva thanked him and tried not to walk too fast. She located the bathroom pretty quickly and ran the faucet while she peeked further down the hall.  Couple of rooms, nothing out of the ordinary.  Still, she could get a little lost. Turning off the faucet, she slipped out of the bathroom and made her way to the first room—broom closet.  Crossing the hall, she opened the next door.  This was where they taught whatever the Catholic equivalent was of Sunday School.

Eva had grown up like any other good Louisiana girl, a Southern Baptist. Where they gathered, there was food and Southern judgment. Her marriage had broken her of most of the things she’d once believed, but it hadn’t broken her of the good memories she had.  

Reverently, she traced one of the little desks, smiling at the hand made art on the walls, little names scrawled in shaky writing.  At the front was a chalk board, a bible verse carefully written in one corner, a psalm. Eva leaned on the desk and stared at it a moment, thinking that she probably could have done with a little more memorization at vacation Bible school.

Next to the chalkboard, Eva noticed that the wall was cracked.  Odd. The rest of the church was in immaculate condition.  Rising, she went over and touched the cracked, gasping when it cracked more. Spinning around, she looked towards the door, as if God would stroll in and strike her down for damaging His house.

Using both hands, she tried to set it straight, which only made things worse.  It cracked all the way up to nearly the ceiling.  With a deep sigh, she looked at it, using a nail to scratch along the edge. It lifted away easily, and she discovered the it was...on a hinge.

“What the fu—hell. Hell? Is hell better?”

Knowing she was already in it, Eva opened the makeshift door and found the back of the confessional.  Brows together, she leaned in. It looked pretty normal, not that she’d ever been inside one. Well, there was a first time for everything. Primly, she turned and sat on the cushion, wiggling a bit. It wiggled with her.

Standing, Eva reached beneath the seat and lifted it.  She smiled, set the cushion down and closed the door. Quickly, she scuttled out into the hall and back into the sanctuary.

The boys were still talking with the priest, thought Steve was taking the occasional photo. She gave Javier a wink, thanked the priest for the use of his facilities, and headed back outside.  Javier followed her.

“What’d you find?”

“You know, I’m not supposed to be doing this. I’m supposed to be at a desk.”

“I know-”

“Then, you also know that by asking me to crime scenes you are risking my freedom.”

He looked at her for a bit, chewing on his lip, “Listen, you’re good at this. I know that, and you’re only here to visit a potential church, recommended by me.”

“You can’t just make up stories to suit your needs.”

“Why not?” he shot back, “DEA does it all the time.”

Eva looked away, “I can’t go back to prison, Javi.”

He took her by the shoulders, “You won’t. Steve and me, we’ll make sure of it.”

She nodded, crossing her arms.

“Now, what’d you find?”

“The church,” she answered, “Is hiding drugs under the seat of the confessional, probably in other places, too.”

He snapped his tongue over the back of his teeth, “You saw it.”

“I saw it.”

Dropping his hands, Javier pursed his lips, “I’m gonna call Carrillo. You sit tight out here in case it gets ugly.”

Eva shrugged, “You get the bad guys, I’m gonna go get a popscicle.”

And that’s what she did. Eva crossed the street to a tiny one stop shop and bought a cherry popscicle.  Then, she found a bench where she had a good view of the front of the church and sat. As she pulled the paper apart, a couple Jeeps drove up to the church stairs and about ten or so policemen hauled ass inside, each of them wearing kevlar. Javier must have had them on stand by.  Clearly, he thought he was working off good information. Perhaps, he’d snagged a nun as informant.

Separating the two pieces, Eva took the top off one and held it in her mouth, letting the sugary syrup melt over her tongue. She hadn’t had one of these in a long time, couldn’t remember the last one. Carefully, she tipped it over, slurping up one side.

Even from across the street, she could hear raised voices. They’d told the priest what she’d found, no doubt.

Eva sat there watching the police bring out load after load of cocaine, an astonishing amount, really. When she’d finished the popscicle, she got up and threw the wrapper and wooden sticks in the trash. On her way back, she saw Carrillo crossing the street towards her. Like his men, he was also kitted up. Eva was surprised that they’d found a bulletproof vest that could fit his broad shoulders. In any case, it was good look for him.

She sat, leaving enough room for him, a wordless invitation that he took.

“Having fun storming the castle?”

He huffed a short laugh, “I don’t know that ‘fun’ is how I would describe it.”

Eva hummed, knowing what he meant, then, “Guess its better than sitting at a desk.”

“On that, we agree. Javi tells me that you were the one who found the drugs.”

She shrugged, “Stumbled upon them, really.”

Carrillo looked at her, sidelong, “You have good eyes for this. I should put you on my payroll.”

Pleased by the complement, she allowed herself to feel a little bit of pride despite the fact that she really had simply stumbled upon the drugs.

Leaning back, Eva let her voice come out in a slow drawl, “I don’t know that you want to do that.”

He assessed her expression, asking, “Why?”

“Because,” she explained, matter of fact, “I don’t kiss the men who sign my paychecks.”

One side of his mouth lifted, a kind of playful light in his eyes, “I can get someone else to sign the paycheck.”

Feeling a blush rise to her cheeks, Eva looked away, saw that the priest was being cuffed in the doorway.

“What will happen to him?”

Carrillo’s face hardened a bit, “We’ll book him and he will make bail.  He’ll be back before Sunday services.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Is that how it worked in this country? She supposed that was how it worked everywhere—plenty of Josh’s boys got off without charges, plenty made bail, plenty went right back to what they were doing.

“What a load of bullshit.”

Carrillo laughed outright, “That is how it is.”

She opened her mouth and closed it, looking at her hands.

He lifted one hand and tapped the outside of her thigh once, “Inside thought?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Tell me—is it insulting?” He looked intrigued.

She shook her head, “More sad, I think.”

“Tell me.”

Sighing deeply, she simply said, “I was just thinking that whoever leaked the information to Javier is going to be crucified.  I was also thinking that saying this out loud would be in poor taste.”

Carrillo made a sound of agreement, and then there was a few minutes where they both watched the priest being walked from the church to one of the Jeeps.

“How are you feeling?”

Eva was a little startled by the question, but she recovered quickly, “I’m better. Thank you for your help last week. It...made a difference.”

He acknowledged her thanks with a bob if his head, “You are welcome, and I am glad. When was the last time you nested?”

Her shock must have shown on her face because he went on, “When we met, the first thing I noticed was that you looked like you needed to take some time to nest.”

“The first thing?” Her? Sarcastic? No...

He gave a little shrug, abashed, “Okay, the second thing.”

God, but she wanted to needle him just a little bit, to volley back the unbalanced feeling he so often stirred in her. It took half a second to agree with herself that she should—just a little.

Eva turned, resting her elbow on the back of the bench and laying her head on her hand, “What was the first?”

She could tell he was regretting saying it, but Eva was curious, and she had a hard time not being curious about things. She did, however, keep the satisfied look off her face when his cheeks tinged with pink.

“Tell me,” she urged, echoing his tone from not a few minutes before.

Carrillo’s shoulders pulled down and she got the feeling that he was trying to make himself less threatening, an unconscious movement that told her he’d always been a little too large among his peers. She could see in that small movement that he’d learned early on that he was intimidating.  She could also see that he probably knew when to use that to his advantage and when to pull back.

“You know the answer to that question, Eva,” he said eventually.

She held up a finger, “I might know.”

After a deep inhale followed by a controlled exhale, he said, “I cannot believe I am saying this...Your scent. You know that it was your scent. I couldn’t fucking breathe in that conference room. I thought my blood was going to boil in my veins.”

The words tumbled out quickly, but his tone was so reticent that there were little unusual pauses in his sentences. He definitely did not want to be saying it, but he clearly couldn’t help it, and it looked like that frustrated him. Eva bit her lip, touched by how ridiculously honest he was being with her at that moment. She should reward him for that honesty.

“Do you want to know a secret?”

He looked at her and nodded sharply, just once.

Eva moved a little closer and pitched her voice low, “I knew what you smelled like a month before we were introduced. I even saw you first, like a few weeks before. It was the only way I got through that meeting with any dignity.”

There. She’d given him a fair trade. Eva did not need to add that she’d masturbated to that scent over and over for the month prior (and since). She didn’t think she would ever really have the courage to tell him that much. Just the thought made heat rise in her chest and cheeks.

He shifted to face her, “How?”

She tilted her head to the side in a low arc, “You would come in to talk with one of the agents, we’d just miss each other and I could scent you a few times.”

His eyes narrowed and she could see the wheels turning in his head, “You said you saw me.”

“Yes, I did. Not for long, and from across the room.  But, I knew.”

Strong fingers brushed down the forearm holding her head aloft, “How did you stand it? After—I think I lasted less than twenty four hours before I was coming up with ways to see you again.”

Eva smiled, “I was just happy that I could feel that intensely. I think I wanted to savor it.”

He cocked his head to the side, eyes running over her face and downwards, catching on the way her skirt had hitched up a bit, “You never…”

She shook her head, “Josh was a beta. After we got married, I was on a tight leash. And after, there wasn’t much opportunity.”

There went that jagged fury that billowed through his scent when she mentioned her marriage. She made a mental note to steer away from the subject, if she could. His mouth opened and closed, and her mouth widened in a smile.

“You just had an inside thought.”

He laughed, “I did.”

“Well, out with it.”

Carrillo, still smiling, said, “I think I’ve revealed enough for one day.”

Eva looked down, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He touched underneath her chin, “Don’t apologize for wanting to know my thoughts, hmm? I want to know yours constantly.”

“I pretty much say whatever I’m thinking, Big Guy.”

His name sounded from across the street and he straightened, listening.

“I need to go,” he said after a moment. “We’ll talk later.”

Eva watched him go, a warm feeling coming over her.  She liked him a little too much, she knew that. She also knew that she was going to do absolutely nothing about it.  

[movienotesbyzawmer]

August 30: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol

(previous notes: Mission: Impossible III)

I bet the powers that be at the Mission: Impossible movie factory didn't lose any sleep over the stupid colon in the title that screws everything up. I mean, just look at that up there with the colon after my date, then the colon in the middle of the OG title, and then it's like, well, you can do whatever you want with punctuation but we're adding a subtitle after it now and you just have to deal with it. On posters and stuff it's just "Mission: Impossible" and then underneath those words they put "Ghost Protocol" so they don't have to deal with it. What a mess. I tell you it is a damn mess is what it is.

Anyway, we have arrived at the M:I movie that, more than any of the others, just really hit the spot for me when I saw it upon its original release. I saw it at the end of a frustrating and tiring work day and it was exactly what the doctor ordered. At some point in the middle I realized that I was enjoying it thoroughly without having to tolerate the kinds of flaws that were apparently part and parcel of this kind of movie. Maybe there were flaws that I just wasn't registering. We'll soon see.

Continuing the tradition of making very hip choices for the directing duties, here we have the live-action directorial debut of Brad Bird, who started off directing episodes of The Simpsons before moving on to no less than The Iron Giant and The Incredibles. Dude had two Oscars on his mantle by the time he showed up for this. Press play already!

Um Sweet Christ those opening shots look gook in 4K like HOO boy

Whoa, neat opening where Sawyer from Lost is chased off the top of a building in Budapest but his jacket deploys an air mattress right as he almost-hits, but then he's shot by Lea Seydoux in an alley, rat-a-tat-tat with the action here, like what is up

Simon Pegg is back, and he's being tricksy with the tech in a prison! He's opening cell doors and the prisoners are surprised and delighted with that twist! He plays them a jazz standard on the intercom and Ethan Hunt suavely emerges from one of the cells. Fun silly things ensue involving Ethan's rebellious and confident independent strategy and a small riot that seems kind of like a bar fight.

He has made a pal in the joint and he's breaking him out. Some kind of cool tech creates a really sweet vortex-y hole in the floor and they are swooped up by their helpers, it's fun.

We're introduced to Paula Patton who is a new team member, and then the credits roll, and they are spirited in a way that recalls the first movie, also showing real scenes from later in the movie.

Flashback to the thing that was happening with Sawyer shows how that botched operation, something about a file and a courier, got Sawyer killed because lots of bad guys were all over the place there. AR contact lens technology figures prominently, and that is a good idea (plus we totally might have those soon, right?).

0:18:16 - Once again we begin the movie without the leading lady from the previous one, but we're starting to get an explanation here. Or just a tease of one I guess.

And quickly we get a sneaky-style self-destructing message that sets up that Ethan has to disguise himself as a specific Russian and sneak into the actual Kremlin. This movie 100% gets what a Mission: Impossible movie is supposed to be.

This time, they aren't using fancy masks or voice shifter things, just costumes and a fake mustache. They comment about that in the dialogue but don't explain why.

0:24:52 - Dialogue mixed SO QUIET here I have no idea what SP just said. It seems like you're supposed to have heard it.

But that is quickly forgotten when they use the coolest spy gadget of them all - a screen that is placed in a corridor that makes the guy at the other end of the corridor think it’s the corridor, but it's a screen and SP & Ethan are hiding behind it and it is super super neato I love it

Then just when it's cool that that is going well, it's suddenly cool how NOT well it's going because someone is spying on their spycraft! The thing they were going to heist isn't there, and someone deliberately makes their comms thing be heard by the bad guys!

And THEN we see something we really didn't think we'd see and it is kind of mind blowing - Ethan escapes from the Kremlin with a very smooth quick-change of his disguise that we see him do in all one shot… but then the Kremlin totally explodes and it explodes all over Ethan as he's running away! It looks amazing!

Right after that there is some fun with subtitles - Ethan is in the hospital all damaged and concussed and stuff, and the news is talking about the obvious big story, and the subtitles are in Russian. At first I was like, "hey is my home theater tech busted?" but no, the subtitles become gradually more in English as Ethan starts to come out of it. Then we see with subtitles that Ethan is reading lips about the police people that want to be bad guys to Ethan.

After Ethan escapes, we shift to a wholesome-looking Russian family we haven't seen before. The scene is a nice little piece of drama about how the dad sees the Kremlin news and wants to get the family out of there, and very quickly that goes south and thugs have them all at gunpoint, it's nicely done

Ethan is being extracted by two new characters played by accomplished, Oscar-nominated actors Tom Wilkinson and Jeremy Renner… the conversation is dire and I don't want to type during it gahhh gah gah gah I am watching because holy shit this goes south too! TW informs Ethan that the DoD is going to frame him for blowing up the Kremlin and his only choice is to escape. He's telling him HOW to escape in a funny way, but they are attacked and it's visually very interesting and TW is headshot and they are in the water and it is such bad news for Ethan and his new colleague played by Mr. Renner, I probably typoed a lot during that because it was so hard to look away.

So Ethan is on the hook for the terrorist attack of the century and he's being chased by a little battalion of thugs who just shot that important spy boss, and he's in Russia. It is very not good for Ethan.

He's with JR and JR is playing a different character for him. He's a bookish analyst guy who feels very out of place in action-land.

We're learning about the main bad guy, Hendricks, who was the guy that screwed everything up in the Kremlin. He's a super-smart theoretical physicist or something who has big, well-thought-out ideas about destroying the world with nukes, and he took nuke codes from the Kremlin. So things are just really really hairy and it's effective storytelling is what I'm saying.

Also effective is that they met up with SP and PP on a neat secret train car thing that is well appointed with spy gear

And VERY VERY EFFECTIVE is what happens next, which is a series of establishing shots of Dubai which KILL ON MY TV. I am glad I have a 4K panel, kids. This begins what I recall as being an extended sequence of sweet-ass suspense. Ethan has to break into a server room by climbing the outside of the 130th floor of the Burj Khalifa using glove-gadget tech that will hopefully work. There is at least some actual Tom Cruise clinging to the side of that building. It's so cool looking. And to make matters worse, a dust storm approaches! Or should I say "to make matters even cooler looking". Yes I should. Please read that part.

Paula Patton's character seems underdeveloped so far, especially compared to her teammates Simon Pegg and Jeremy Renner.

Jeez you guys, if you like suspenseful action scenes about barely surviving climbing a skyscraper this movie is for you.

1:05:34 - In the middle of a tense conversation we see that they were using the maskmaker but it wasn't working. They just don't want us to have mask fun in this movie. They hate mask fun. Why does Brad Bird hate mask fun.

Oh then this scene which is neat - bad guys are meeting with LS… but Ethan and JR are taking their place, and PP is taking LS's place for the real bad guys one floor down. The movie explains it better than me, but it is pretty exciting, the two meetings happening at the same time with opposite trickery.

Hah, SP does a sweet fake-hand trick to get the diamonds from the bad guys so he can get them to Ethan and JN, and JN is doing the thing where he uses the contact lens tech… gosh why are you even reading this, just watch the movie. I really like the tricksy espionage.

It all falls apart because LS spots the contact lens in JR's eye. The plot is moving along in a way that, I'm once again noticing, would normally require more half-assed-ness. It's just a solid spy plot. Which probably makes these notes more boring. Poor you.

LS dies by getting kicked out of the open window of the Burj Khalifa with a brewing sandstorm in the background! Neat looking!

And then a thing where Ethan is in a thick dust cloud and he's tracking the important paper thing with his tracker device, and it starts moving quickly at him and we realize just as it's too late that it's in a car that's gonna run him over! Then that mechanic gets used in a car chase in a dust storm, which we don't see very often outside a Mad Max movie, and that climaxes in a really cool looking collision, followed by the reveal that one of the nuclear code bad guys was Hendricks in a supermask. So we DO like mask fun after all! Except why do we care that it was Hendricks?

A scene where JR is confronted for maybe being a double-crosser has a beautifully choreographed gun-get-grabbity-grab thing that was probably super fun for the actors.

1:27:05 - JR tells a story that at first we think is that family we saw briefly almost scramming, but no, he's talking about Ethan, and what seems to be a story about Ethan's wife (Julia from the last movie) getting killed in Croatia, and Ethan killing six Serbians for revenge, and that's why he was in prison in the beginning? It's still a little mysterious and kind of complicated. It doesn't quite fit with what we think we know.

Dubai imagery is pretty. I have been to Dubai. I am standing by for your marriage proposals now.

I didn't really follow how we got to this point, but Ethan went for a walk and met with some underworld Dubai person and made a deal the ended up with a huge cache of spy gear and a private plane to India. I went to India like right after Dubai. I have my own car and a job kind of so you might need to calm your hormones at this point.

A probing exchange with PP establishes that indeed Ethan's story is that he killed the men who killed his wife. Doesn't really seem legit, though. There's more to the story, clearly.

One of the tech things they play with on the plane is the most magic-seeming one. It is a suit that looks like tight chain-mail, and it floats over a cart, like a magic carpet that you wear.

We're introduced to Brij Nath, whose name I had to look up so I could tell you how it is spelled. He has an access code that they need, which seems like they just kind of simplified the situation, and he's one of those only-kinda-bad bad guys that's really just a pawn, for our heroes as well as for these storytellers.

The wearable magic carpet gadget is fun and funny! SP has to remote control JR wearing the floaty-suit and JR is trying not to freak out too badly, and maybe on purpose it recalls the scene from the first movie where Tom Cruise hovers parallel to the floor.

Hendricks is now in a secret room in the place where they all are, and he has a bad-guy briefcase computer and orders some subordinates to do something with a virus, and I don't actually understand what's really happening but am I to believe that Ethan et al are thwarting literal nuclear terrorism here in Mumbai? Right here at this pleasant party at the palace of an only kinda-bad bad guy?

1:48:30 - Ha, the climax of the wearable magic carpet thing involves JR barely surviving by doing an acrobatic stunt that seems oddly intuitive and satisfying. You'll just have to watch the movie to know what I mean.

The spy-tech car they have is rad.

They fail to prevent the launch of a nuclear missile! We see it come out of the sub and start missiling toward its destination which we have learned is California! Hendricks mutters things about how that should get the ball rolling making world powers hate each other and nuke each other and may there be peace on Earth, he also, yes, says that.

A chase on foot has Ethan and Hendricks suddenly brawling on an exotically elegant robotic parking ramp. Platforms move around mechanically and transfer unmanned cars to different areas, and it is against that video gamey backdrop that Ethan and Hendricks struggle to get that sinister suitcase which is all bouncing around that environment. Unexpectedly, Ethan's hope of grabbing it is thwarted by Hendricks suicide-jumping down several stories! We see it! He definitely does that! Ethan drives a car off a thing to follow him, plummeting down hood-first, and the airbag saves him! He gets the briefcase and barely saves the day in time!

Again a denouement making it very clear that everything is really shockingly okay and tidied up. Even the thing with Ethan revenge-killing Serbians and the thing with his wife is cleaned way up, but with an elegance and sweetness that elevates this movie above the others. She's not dead after all, just fake-dead for her protection. And they're only where they are in Seattle so he can glimpse her lovingly across a marina.

So! I feel strongly that this is the best Mission: Impossible movie! It is an extraordinarily deftly-constructed spy thriller! It's got all the funnest types of things that are in the other movies, and other fun spy thrillers, but with so much less garbage! They did a great job and they should be proud.

[e-of-west-glendia]

Happy birthday to the wonderful @imliterallyvirgilandlogan!! You are an absolutely amazing person and I love you to death.

(Apparently I’m incapable of writing fluff without angst so um enjoy this fluffy angsty mess. To be fair Sirius Black on Mother’s Day is basically a recipe for an inevitably angsty disaster.)

Something About Mother’s Day

(I can’t come up with creative titles)

Sirius sat on the edge of his bed watching Peter, James, and Remus finalize cards and wrap up gifts. It was Mother’s Day. His absolute least favorite day of the year.

Sirius had had bad experiences with Mother’s Day in the past. At the Black residence it was never a time of sweet celebration and kindness, it was always some dull party that was really just an excuse to showcase their wealth. Alternatively it was a meeting with all the Sacred 28 members. Sirius has found that those were the worst Mother’s Days. Sitting at a table, back straight, giving small, perfunctory nods to everyone he encountered and answering awkward questions about being in Gryffindor and producing heirs (he was 16 for god sake).

It had to be around noon when he finally decided that he should leave. There was no use in bringing everyone down with his feelings about this holiday.

Hopping off the bed, Sirius made his way to the door.

“Honestly, my mum is too nice for her own good. Last Mother’s Day she sent me a gift— Sirius where are you going?” James had stopped halfway through his sentence, glasses slipping down his nose as he peered over the top of them at his friend.

Sirius shrugged. “Nowhere in particular.”

Peter cocked his head to the side curiously, while James and Remus narrowed their eyes in suspicion.

“Sirius is something—“ but Sirius was gone before Remus had even finished his question.

Peter turned to the other two boys. “Do you think it’s because…” he started.

“Probably,” James and Remus said in unison.

~~~~~~~

Sirius found himself sitting by the lake. If he was being quite honest with himself he couldn’t even remember how he’d gotten out there in the first place. His mind had been swimming with images of that past winter.

Drunken screams and broken glass. Flashes of light of every color. And pain. Excruciating pain. The faint crack of broken bones— it had taken him a while to realize that they’d been his bones broken — and the sharp metallic scent of blood. Everything had been hazy after that. Regulus’ hands on him, silently cursing and muttering about something that Sirius had been too pain weary to try and listen to. Two flashes of green light— one that smelt sickly sweet and poisonous, death laced in every syllable. The other, light and warm and smelling slightly of ash and burnt wood. Then he passed out in the Potters living room to the sounds of James screaming for his parents.

A light tap on his shoulder almost made him jump. He looked behind him and almost jumped again when he saw who it was. He quickly schooled his features into something befitting the infamous Sirius Black — Marauder and mischief maker extraordinaire.

“Ms Evans, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked.

Lily rolled her eyes at him. “Shut up, Black.”

Sirius laughed. Since becoming a prefect Lily and Remus had begun to hang out more. Which meant that Sirius saw more of her than he had in previous years and it also meant that she seemed to hate him significantly less. By significantly less he meant he would say hello to her in the halls and she wouldn’t completely ignore him. Unless of course James was around. Then she’d just leave.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at her. “What’s up? This has to be the longest conversation we’ve had all year.” A grin lit up his face. “What, have I finally started to grow on you?”

Lily turned slightly red and scowled at him. “No.” She said firmly. Then, “I just saw you sitting outside alone and I thought I’d make sure you didn’t get eaten by the giant squid. Actually, on second thought, I wouldn’t mind if the giant squid ate you.”

Sirius laughed again. “Isaura wouldn’t hurt me. We’re best friends.”

Lily snorted. “I’m sure that’s exactly what she thought when she threw you out of the lake last summer.”

Sirius shrugged. “Our relationship might have its ups and downs but I promise you we’ll withstand the test of time.”

“You’re an idiot,” Lily sighed. Then she peered down at Sirius. Sirius got the odd sense that she was analyzing him with that piercing green gaze.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” she asked. He’d been correct.

Out of instinct he said. “Nope. Everything’s all good.”

Lily didn’t buy it for a second. “Uh huh sure. You’re sitting outside, by yourself, skipping stones across the lake while staring forlornly at the horizon. Not to mention it’s fucking freezing outside and you’re not even wearing a jacket. Meanwhile I just came from the common room where your friends are being idiots as usual.”

Sirius winced. She had a point.

“You don’t hide your emotions nearly as well as you think,” Lily finished.

Sirius grumbled something about meddling redheads that made Lily smile.

Lily chewed her bottom lip for a second before sighing and plopping down next to Sirius. Sirius glanced at her in confusion.

“Not going to run away screaming this time, Evans?”

“Har har.”

It was another few seconds of silence before Lily turned to Sirius.

“I heard about what...happened...over winter break,” she said cautiously.

The small smile that had been creeping onto Sirius’ face died immediately.

“I suppose Snivellous told you then.”

Lily bit her lip, fighting a retort against the nickname.

“Doesn’t matter where I heard it from. I just— what I’m trying to say is...I get it.”

Sirius snapped his head to her so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash.

“You get it,” he asked, voice nothing shot of venomous. “Oh I’m sure you ‘get it’. Because everyone understands what it’s like to be—“ he stopped short at the silencing hand the girl held up.

Sometimes the power Lily Evans commanded over people amazed him.

“Easy, Black. That’s not what I meant.”

Sirius gave her a look that clearly said well then what did you mean?

Lily sighed again, it sounded sad this time. Sirius almost felt bad for snapping at her. Almost.

“What I meant was...I know what it’s like to not have the best relationship with family members. And my situation is definitely nothing on yours,” she said quickly when she heard Sirius’ scoff. “But I know what it’s like to be the hated one— the outcast. And it sucks. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, least of all you.”

Sirius stared at her but Lily kept speaking. “You’re a good person, Sirius. Annoying? Yes. Arrogant? Totally. A bit self absorbed? Definitely. But you’re a good person. You care about your friends and they care about you. Nothing your bitch of a mother says or does will ever change that.”

Sirius snorted at that last part. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Sirius was silent again, debating on whether or not he should ask Lily the question that was now swimming in his mind.

“Hey Lil—“

“My sister,” Lily cut him off. “You were going to ask who in my family it was, right? It’s my sister Petunia. She’s hated me since I got my letter.”

Sirius winced slightly. He definitely knew a thing or two about difficult sibling relationships.

He didn’t apologize though. She wouldn’t want to hear that. Instead he said, “Yikes.”

“Much yikes,” Lily agreed.

“I meant what I said, y’know. About your friends. They really love you, Sirius. I mean you and James are basically brothers — practically joined at the hip. You and Peter are always laughing about something. And Remus,” she paused for a moment, as if debating on what her next words were going to be. “Remus, especially. He cares.”

For the millionth time that morning Sirius gaped still Lily. “What do you mean especially Re—“

“Speak of the devils,” Lily said, interrupting him and climbing to her feet. “I think I’d best be off now.”

Sirius squinted into the distance. He could vaguely make out his three friends picking their way across the wet grass towards them.

“Well Black it’s been fun. I swear I’ll kill you if you let it slip we ‘hung out’,” Lily said, framing her words in air quotes. Despite her menacing tone she was smiling.

“I don’t doubt it,” Sirius laughed.

Lily sent him one last smile before quickly setting off across the grass.

She was halfway to the greenhouses when the other three arrived at Sirius’ side.

James, in typical James fashion called out, “Hey Evans! How about you come with me to Hogsmeade this weekend?”

Sirius snorted at James as he watched Lily flip him the finger and shout something that sounded like “In your dreams, Potter,” over her shoulder before she disappeared around a corner, red hair flying around her face.

“Trying to steal James’ girlfriend?” Peter teased.

“Yeah!” James said, rounding on him. “What was that about.”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “You wound me Jamie. You really think I’d steal the future Mrs Potter from you?”

James spluttered incoherently at him. “Besides,” Sirius continued. “I’m not really into girls that psychoanalyze me.”

Remus snorted. “Yeah, she does that.”

Sirius looked up at Remus, reveling in the way the early morning sun turned his brown hair gold. He couldn't help staring at him, but could you blame him? Remus Lupin was beautiful in just about every way you could be. Inside and out. His mind flashed to what Lily had said about Remus. She couldn’t know that he was in love with Remus...could she? And she certainly hadn’t meant...had she? No, he thought firmly. She definitely hadn’t meant that. The odds of Remus liking him back were about 1 in a million and Sirius had never been high on good luck.

It seemed as though James had just remembered how far off the straight spectrum Sirius Black was because he said, “Oh...right...yeah…”

Sirius laughed at him. James’ face suddenly turned serious. “Right. Back to what we’re here for,” He said. “It’s Mother’s Day and Mumis fully expecting a card from both of her sons.”

Sirius gave him a confused look. “What do you mean both...?”

“Oh please,” James scoffed. “You heard what Mum said to Walburga on the platform back in January.”

Sirius very clearly remembered. Euphemia had looked down right murderous when she’d said, “And if you ever touch my sons again, Walburga, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” Even his mother, the unshakable Walburga Black, had taken a step back. Sirius had no doubts that Euphemia would make good on her threat. He smiled to himself. She kinda reminded him of Lily.

“And anyways you’ve been a Potter since the moment I met you.”

“He’s right,” Remus said, nudging Sirius with his foot. “You were a Potter long before you were formally adopted by them.”

“Exactly,” James said, nodding at Remus. “Now hurry up and sign the damn card. There’s going to be hell to pay if she doesn’t get a gift from both of us.”

James extended a hand to Sirius, which he accepted and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

“Best get started on that card then,” he said.

The four of them headed back across the lawn. Remus leaned down close to Sirius, his hair tickling the side of his face.

“What’d Lily say,” he asked softly in his ear.

Sirius repressed a shudder, mentally chiding himself at his reaction. Just friends. Just friends, he thought to himself. He sent a glance in Remus direction. Curious green eyes met grey and Sirius sighed. Taking what Lily had said to heart would really just be wishful thinking.

“Nothing,” he said.

“Hmm,” Remus said, unconvinced, but he didn’t press it.

Sirius grinned at him.

Despite the answer that Sirius had given Remus, something definitely had changed between Lily and Sirius. And though neither of them would ever admit it at the time, from that day forth Lily Evans and Sirius Black were most definitely friends.

[pseudophan]

can you tell us the summary of your love of your lives case? I don’t wanna watch the video I don’t have the patience to watch it

it's such a complicated case but in short(ish):

1993 in west memphis arkansas, three eight year old boys go missing and are later found murdered in the woods. the community is freaking the fuck out and because it's 1993 small town arkansas and satanic panic is sweeping the nation people go ITS SATANISM IT WAS A SATANIC RITUAL and the police keep interviewing this 18 year old named damien echols because he was into witchcraft and listened to metallica and wore all black (genuine points brought up in court like this is what the entire case is built on). im skipping some details here cause its all oh so convoluted but basically they eventually interrogate a 17 year old named jessie miskelley jr who confesses to the crime and implicates damien and damien's best friend jason baldwin (16, looks about 11). so then ofc they all get arrested

issue is: jessie is a minor with a reported iq of 72 and they interrogated him non stop for 12 hours with no parent or attorney present (his dad agreed to let them speak to him but they didnt tell him it was an interrogation) and less than an hour of it was recorded. jessie claims the cops coerced him into his confession and even on the 40 something minutes of interrogation we do have available to listen to you can hear the cops just continuously leading him on like theyll ask when this happened and he says a time and they go no the kids were in school then it was later wasnt it and he's like yeah it was [later time] and theyre like no it was around 8 wasnt it? and hes like yeah yeah it was then and it goes on like that foreverrrrr

ok im getting into too much detail here im sorry theres so much more anyway anyway TRIALS HAPPEN and its all a whole bunch of bullshit and hbo recorded it all for hit documentary paradise lost (watch it) and hhhooooooly shit!

theres way too much to talk about w the trial but besides everyone being fucking cracked and damien being a smartass and the judge looking bored out of his goddamn mind throughout the whole thing (FUCK that judge) one notable part that didnt come out until later is that during jury selection this one guy was hell bent on getting on the jury cause he wanted them convicted and not only was he let on the jury he became the jury foreman which goes against like every law cause juries are supposed to go into court with no preconceived notions of what happened. also jessie had a separate trial cause he wouldnt testify against jason and damien which means his "confession" wasnt admissible in their trial and the jury werent allowed to consider it, but the jury actively discussed the confession while making their decision (jury members have said they did + it was written on their goddamn whiteboard) which. h

ANYWAYYY so jessie and jason get life in prison without the possibility of parole and damien gets sentenced to death. damien is 19 at this point with a newborn baby. jason isnt even 18.

so then they go away and the documentary paradise lost comes out and everyone collectively loses their goddamn fucking minds cause how the fuck did this happen they didnt even have a single piece of actual evidence except a piece of hair that MAY match damien but also its the early 90s and they dont actually have a fucking clue

years go by, everythings happening so much, their appeals get shot down one by one cause its the same fucking judge and ofc hes not gonna admit any fault. the public suspect john mark byers (rest in peace he died like a month ago in a traffic accident, btw he also didnt do it but thats also a lot to go into. interesting guy, definitely inbred, violent tendencies but not a murderer) one of the kids' stepdads (technically adoptive dad cause he legally adopted the kid after he married his mum but hes generally referred to as his stepdad) of having done it cause hes fucking massive and is quite possibly the most colourful character ive seen in my life like that guy had no idea what was going on ever and he was hell bent on the teens having done it and wanted to kill them all UNTIL! until. 2007, they test the dna in the case and SHOCKINGLY turns out none of the west memphis 3's dna is anywhere to be found, the shit they had that could be damien's turns out to not even remotely match him in the slightest and suddenly theyre there like. well. now theres nothing. and yet theyre still in prison cause everyone who got them convicted is like NO THEY DID IT :) but the public outrage is so much by this point and finally they get to take it to the supreme court who take one look at it and are literally like ??? what the fuck happened here give them a new trial what the literal hell (theres a video of it their faces are literally so funny they all look like they absolutely cannot believe this required their help) so in 2011 they finally have the opportunity to retrial with a new judge but SUDDENLY the state of arkansas go um actually we are gonna offer you an alford plea which basically means they legally plead guilty to the charges while still saying they didnt do it and then they get let out but the state wont have to admit fault or reopen the case cause in their eyes these three are still guilty but theyre gonna let them out anyway cause that makes a whole lot of sense i guess. lol basically the state realised there was a real chance they could get exonerated in which case they were gonna get sued to hell and back and went FUCK give them a deal

now jason didnt want to take the deal he wanted to wait for the new trial and risk getting found guilty again cause he said this isnt justice for the kids cause the real killer or killers are still free and its not justice for us cause we have to plead guilty to save the asses of the system that failed us all BUT all three of them have to agree for it to be valid and damien's execution date, which he's already narrowly avoided on several occasions like its already been postponed multiple times, is once again coming up and if the new trial somehow goes wrong and hes sent back to death row he's gonna be killed so jason decided fuck all of that and agreed to the plea exclusively to save damien which ok ride or die king

i havent gone into who really did it cause once again there is SO much but the majority of people think it was terry hobbs (the stepdad of another one of the victims) including the kid's mother whos now his ex wife who he abused to no end. theres a Lot to this theory and while theres no concrete evidence cause they did a shittyass job with everything theres already more dna linking him to the scene than the teens. god i really wanna go into everything that points to terry being at least somehow involved but this has already gotten so out of hand

anyway follow damienechols on instagram all he does is post about witchcraft and cats. also watch the hbo paradise lost trilogy and west of memphis. and if u want even more details listen to the three true crime garage episodes on the case. also theres books. theres so much. i have so much more to say. someone stop me

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (40/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: I’ve written a lot of words - it’s actually a ridiculous amount - but some stories worm their way into your heart. This one definitely goes in the top five of that for me. I don’t know if it’s because this was the first story I managed to write after getting some pretty harsh words sent my way or if it was because this story was something I wrote throughout my pregnancy. Did you guys notice how much food was involved? That’s why. Haha. Nevertheless, this is a special one. Thanks for coming along for the ride ⚾️

Thanks to you @resident-of-storybrooke​ for all of her hard work with me on this one​! I’ve kept this epilogue a secret from you as your gift for being a spectacular human being, so I hope you enjoy it ❤️

AO3: Beginning | Current 

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-/-

“What are you wearing today?” Ruby asks her over the speaker on her phone.

Emma hums in response as she thumbs through the clothes in her closet, passing by sweater after sweater that Killian has organized by color despite her consistently messing up his organizational system for their closet. Miraculously, it always gets fixed, heels going on the shelf and white sweater moving to its section instead of chilling with the red jackets on the other side of the room. She didn’t need a closet this big, not really, but if this is what came attached to the master bedroom in their brownstone, Emma is certainly going to fill it up with clothes and boots and far too many hats.

She’s simply not going to organize them the way that her husband wants her to.

“I’m not sure yet,” Emma tells Ruby while running her hand runs over a black turtleneck sweater that might look good with her plaid skirt and the thigh-high boots that she owns three pairs of now since she wears them so often. It’s not a problem no matter how much Killian says it is as he places them on the shelf. “It’s cold outside, but it’s going to be sunny. Maybe my plaid skirt with the black sweater. What are you wearing?”

“Jeans and a sweater, but it’s not my big day.”

“It’s not my big day either.”

Ruby sighs, and Emma can imagine the exasperated look on her face and the way that Graham is likely sitting on the bed behind her reminding her to be gentle or something similar. He should know better after so many years with Ruby – she’s not gentle when she’s in a teasing mood, and she’s definitely in a teasing mood.

“It is your big day,” Ruby corrects. “Your husband could be retiring from baseball today. That’s a huge fucking deal.”

Emotion lodges itself in Emma’s throat, and if she could swallow it down and get rid of it for the day, she would. Quickly, she turns around to look and make sure Killian isn’t standing in the closet or the bedroom. He’s not, at least that she knows. He could be hiding in that blind spot near the bathroom. He’s got weirdly quiet footsteps, and she can very rarely hear when he’s moving in this house.

“Killian wants to think about it as any other game. He’s told me approximately five hundred times that this isn’t a big deal.”

“And you believe him?”

“Hell no,” Emma scoffs as she unties her robe and hangs it on a hook before pulling the plaid skirt off of its hanger and slipping into it as most as she can without having someone tug the last little bit. It’s got this stupid hook that never does quite right. “He hasn’t slept in days. Like, actual days. I wake up in the middle of the night to find him reading or running his fingers over me or something. Killian doesn’t want to admit it, but baseball is in his bones. He’s never going to be able to fully leave it behind. He just…they’re down three games to none in the ALCS and even if they win tonight, they could lose tomorrow. I don’t – I want him to win tonight, but I think if that happens, he’ll just keep holding onto the hope that it’s not over yet.”

“It’s never over until it’s over.”

“You sound like Killian.”

“I’ve spent a hell of a lot of time with him in the past six years. It was bound to happen at some point.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m the one who was supposed to start picking up his mannerisms, not you.”

“We’re sister wives, baby.”

“Um, no,” Emma laughs as she clasps her bra together behind her back, “we are not sister wives. I love you, but that’s not true.”

“Ah whatever.” Ruby scoffs. “Is the jersey going to go over that sweater well?”

“Yep.”

“The plaid may not mix with the stripes.”

Emma clicks her tongue, a protest on her lips, but then there’s a high-pitched squeal followed by small legs lacking pants running into the closet. It’s not like she can judge. She doesn’t have a shirt on.

“Mommy,” Jace squeals, still giggling and running toward her until he’s slamming right into her calves and wrapping his fingers around her legs while his dark mop of hair brushes up against her thigh. “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy.” “What, Jace?” she questions with a small laugh before scooping him up and resting him on her hip. She swears that he gets bigger every single day, and it kind of freaks her out. Then again, most things about being a mom to a two-year-old kid are terrifying. But also weirdly rewarding. She’s been reassured by Mary Margaret, Elsa, Ariel, and Anna that it’s normal, but she’s not sure she believes that quite yet. “What’s got you running in here out of breath?”

“Daddy funny,” Jace giggles, and like he was summoned by the laugh (he probably was), Killian walks into the closet with a small smile on his face and the slightest shake of his head.

Handsome as ever.

“Daddy is funny,” Emma agrees, leaning down to press her lips against Jace’s forehead, “but we can’t tell him because his ego might get bigger and then you and I won’t have any room in the house.”

“Ems,” Ruby interjects, “I’m going to let you go so that you can continue to tell lies about Killian being funny.”

“Okay, I’ll see you soon. I’m wearing the plaid skirt.”

“It’s not going to go with the stripes,” Ruby says before the line goes dead.

“You’re hysterical, love,” Killian grumbles, walking toward her and placing his hands on her waist. They’re warm and rough, callouses that she’s grown used to scratching up against her skin, and he tugs her zipper up without her asking. He’s going to have to undo it when she puts her sweater on, but it’s sweet that he realized she needed a bit of help. “Where’s your shirt?”

“Where are our son’s pants?”

He arches a brow before waggling them both across his forehead, a smirk stretching across his lips. “Touché, darling. Touché. Jace seemed fit to not stop squirming around so that I could tug his jeans up.”

Jace smiles at her, a toothy grin, and it’s almost not fair how much he looks like Killian. Genetics are not supposed to work this way. There is supposed to be some of her in him. She didn’t carry him in her body for nine plus months for him to not at all be like her.

There’s supposed to be some kind of payback or reward or something.

(Unconditional love or whatever, probably.)

“Baby, did you not let Daddy put on your pants?”

“Nope.”

“Would you let me put on your pants?”

“Nope.”

Emma rolls her eyes and looks up at Killian who simply shrugs his shoulders. “Well, I guess you won’t wear any pants, and I won’t wear a shirt. Daddy will have to go without shoes.”

Killian shrugs. “All in all, I think I’ve gotten the good deal here.”

“You have,” she promises, pressing up on her toes to quickly brush her lips over Killian’s. He needs to leave soon to go to what may be his final practice (she swears that she’s not thinking about it too much), but they were all going to ride over to the stadium together. “I’ll get him dressed, okay? You don’t have to worry about it.”

“Swan, no. You’ve still got to get ready. I’m perfectly capable of dressing him.”

“His lack of pants suggests otherwise.”

Killian opens his mouth to say something, but then his lips are pressing together and he’s reaching forward to run his fingers over Jace’s stomach while his other hand comes to rest on her ass, squeezing enough that she jumps.

“I’ll dress him,” he continues. “We’ve got to have a go at the jeans again. He might want the light wash instead of the dark. The kid is particular.”

“Just like you,” Emma sighs before handing Jace off to Killian. “I’ve only got to curl my hair and then finish getting dressed, okay? It shouldn’t take me more than thirty minutes, and then we can go.”

“There’s no rush, my love. Take your time.”

Killian walks out of the closet talking to Jace, murmuring little nothings that Emma can’t make out but that she’s sure are sweet and funny and probably ridiculous. It makes her heart swell, which isn’t good for how emotional she is today. She told herself that she wouldn’t be sad, that she would believe Killian’s lies about today not being a big deal, but Killian is a liar. Anyone that says today isn’t a big deal is a liar.

She’s a liar.

And she’s standing in the middle of her closet holding her hand against the chain around her neck staring at shelf after shelf of Yankees t-shirts and sweatpants and uniforms. This sport and this team are so intertwined with their lives and nearly everything that they do, and Emma’s not sure how she’s going to function commentating on games where Killian isn’t playing. When she got the promotion, she knew this would happen eventually. It was at the back of her mind, and it was supposed to stay there.

This wasn’t supposed to come so soon.

Killian is only thirty-three, and Emma always thought that they’d have more time.

Dammit. Why is she letting herself spiral like this when she’s supposed to be curling her hair and putting this sweater on and not freaking out?

Taking a deep breath, Emma grabs the black sweater, a pair of socks, and her boots before tugging them all on, taking each task one at a time while she gets ready. It’s fine. It’s simply another day and another baseball game. There’s nothing happening today that’s any different. They’re going to go to the stadium, drop Jace off with Ariel, Killian will go to practice, and Emma will go up to the booth to review her notes and do the pre-game show. Then the game will begin.

It’s all normal and just what they’ve been doing for almost every home game since Jace’s birth.

(Except it’s not normal.)

(She’s going to act like it is.)

When they get to the stadium an hour later, Emma and Jace both fully dressed despite the complications, the hallways are full of people – publicists, players, family members, coaches, vendors. Anyone Emma can think of is flooding the walkways, most of them waving hello and giving Jace high fives that Emma knows Killian will sanitize later simply because he’s a germ freak now, and there’s a particular look in each of their eyes, a tightness in all of the smiles, that make it especially hard for Emma to pretend that today is a normal day.

“Jace Jones,” Ariel yells out when she comes into view. “What’s up, my man?”

“Ariel,” he screeches out, squirming in Killian’s arms until Killian puts him on the ground and he runs toward Ariel. He’s a blur of pinstripes and the number twenty-nine running in a miniature version of Killian’s jersey. Emma’s got her version hidden away in her purse.

“I was always jealous of other guys who got this.”

Emma twists from where she’s standing to look over at Killian as he softly smiles at Ariel and Jace, the crinkles around his eyes much more prominent than they’ve ever been. “What?”

He nods his head before turning to face her as well. Killian puts his hands on her hips, tugging her a little bit closer to him, and she lazily slings her arms around his neck so that she can smile up at him and his stupid blue eyes. Emma talks for a living. She should be able to find a better way to describe how much she loves Killian’s eyes, but that’s not really in the job card for baseball commentators.

Killian’s lips tick up to the right, the crinkles showing up some more, and he can’t seem to decide between looking at her or Jace. “That,” Killian repeats, nodding at Jace. “I used to be damn jealous of all of the guys who got to have their kids watch them play and got to wear their numbers on their backs. He’s not…fuck, Emma. He’s not going to remember that I did this, that I got to be this really cool guy who lived out my dreams and brought joy to a lot of people, and it’s so idiotic – ”

“Hey, hey, no,” she whispers as her hand keeps running through the hair at the nape of his neck and her own eyes fill with water, “don’t go there, twenty-nine. You’ll drive yourself crazy. Jace may not remember seeing you play professional baseball, but he’s going to know that you did. And he’s going to have a million other memories that are going to be so much cooler than this, yeah? Today isn’t an ending, babe. It’s a new beginning.”

Killian sniffles, his jaw still tense, but it softens a little bit when he dips his head down to hers and starts running his lips across Emma’s jaw and down her neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that light her entire body on fire and make her cant her hips up into his until Killian has her pressed into a concrete wall. It’s not unusual for them to find a spot to make out in this stadium, not at all, but it’s unusual for them to be this open about it. Their relationship has been a public one without their permission, and they try to keep it as quiet as possible.

Right now, Emma doesn’t care.

Not at all.

Until there’s a whistle and Ariel speaking. “I know you guys are probably going to try for another one of these munchkins during the infamous baseball mating season, but here is really not the place to do it.”

Killian chuckles against Emma’s jaw, his scruff brushing into her skin while his smile is tattooed there, and of all of the things Emma is going to miss, she thinks this might be at the top of the list. She guesses that they’ll simply have to do it at home…or Killian can come visit her at work. They have their options.

“Daddy kisses Mommy a lot,” Jace explains to Ariel in his broken speech, which only makes Killian snicker into her skin even more before he pulls back.

“I bet I can kiss you more than I kiss Mommy,” Killian challenges as he swipes Jace out of Ariel’s arms and peppers kisses across his face and down his arms.

Emma’s heart is never going to function normally again, and their insurance is not going to cover this.

“You guys are ridiculously cute,” Ariel sighs before walking up to Emma and wrapping her up in a hug so that she can whisper in her ear. “It’s all clear for you to come down after the game. Will and Eric are under strict instructions to keep him in the dugout instead of letting him go back to get his PT and hide out away from the field.”

“Thank you, A. You’re the best.”

“Yo, Professor Jones,” Will calls out from down the corridor, and everyone’s eyes glance over toward him. “I know you’ve got that fancy college degree now and could actually be a professor, but you’ve still got to show up to practice.”

“I’m right outside the door to the clubhouse, Scarlet,” Killian yells back.

“Outside isn’t inside, man. I bet Jace knows that, and he’s only two.”

“Give me three minutes, and I’ll be there.”

“Al is going to have your head.”

“He can have it.”

“My boy,” Killian sighs as he brushes Jace’s hair off of his forehead, “will you be good for Ariel so that Mommy and Daddy can go to work?”

“Nope.”

That is undeniably the word of the day.

Sending Killian off to practice and the game is a little bit more difficult than usual. The words are lengthier, the hugs longer and tighter, and the final “good luck” and “I love you” weigh heavier on Emma’s mind as she walks away from the clubhouse and to the elevators so that she can go and do her job.

It’s a hard day, but it is simply a day.

And a ballgame.

-/-

Before Killian’s first pitch, he looks up to her in the commentator’s booth and taps his fist right over his heart.

She does the same thing back before holding her hand to the ring that still rests against her sternum.

“You’ve got this, twenty-nine,” she whispers, not caring that the microphones are going to pick it up.

-/-

The Yankees lose, 3-2, and the loss definitely stings. The season is over, but Killian’s career is also finished, the bookend closing on the mound and his time there.

A beginning, she told him. It’s an ending but also a beginning of him not spending half of the year with a crazy schedule. Her schedule is crazy too, but at least she won’t be traveling with the team anymore.

It’s a new beginning for her too.

Chants of Killian’s name ring out around the stadium, a melody that sends chills down Emma’s spine, and Killian walks around the bases waving. He looks like he both loves and hates it, and Emma chuckles as she waits in the dugout, hidden away from him until he steps back on the mound one final time.

The man she loves is so intertwined with this game and this field, but she knows he’s also so much more than any of this.

He’s everything.

“You ready to go support Daddy, kid?” Emma asks Jace as his little blue eyes look around at all of the noise. He’s not used to this.

“Yes,” he says, and Emma sighs in relief at finally getting that word out of him.

It’s not a long walk, not at all, but it feels that way as she passes by all of Killian’s teammates, past and present, to get to him. When he sees the two of them, he immediately moves toward them. His strides are long, almost quick enough to be a run, and Killian wraps his arms around them so tightly that Jace protests and tries to move. He can’t, though, especially when Killian slams his lips into hers and kisses her deeply enough that every thought that Emma had disappears into the continuing chant of the crowds.

Killian. Killian. Killian.

It’s overwhelming but in the best way, and every thought that Killian has about it is felt in the kiss that leaves her breathless and with barely working limbs.

Falling in love with Killian was like this, overwhelming, unexpected, terrifying, and thrilling all at once, and she’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

“Easy tiger,” Emma laughs when Killian finally pulls back, “we’ve got company.”

“Are we talking the kid we just squashed or all of these people?”

“I’m talking Jeff and the camera that’s on our face. I’m supposed to interview you right now.”

The smile that breaks out on his face is beatific, and he kisses her again. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” Killian grabs onto Jace and pulls him into his arms. “You too, kid. You ready to watch Mommy work? She’s really good at this even if it isn’t her job anymore.”

“She play baseball?”

“Something like that, lad.”

Emma barely remembers the questions that she asks Killian. It’s a blur of laughter and funny questions and maybe one or two actual questions about baseball. It all gets interrupted by Jace’s talking, most of it tired babbling, and then Liam, Elsa, and the rest of Killian’s family coming out onto the field. The stands don’t empty out, the constant buzz of the stadium staying around, but Emma doesn’t bother looking around up there when she’s got so much going on down here.

It’s absolutely everything.

Even more so when Killian takes Jace’s hand and walks him around the bases, the two of them laughing together in the way that they always do whenever they’re together, and Emma is most definitely scouring the internet for those pictures tonight.

But far too soon, the moment is over, reality coming back to everyone, and Killian has to go inside to do his press conference just like so many of his teammates. There are still articles to be written and deadlines to be met, and the world doesn’t resolve around them.

Emma’s world revolves around the two guys wearing the number twenty-nine.

She gets Jace back from Killian when they go inside, and the two of them hide out in the corner of the back of the press room as Killian settles down behind the table and all of the journalists and photographers sit in their seats. It starts mostly with the game, Killian’s stats as well as his team’s. It’s standard, just like any other post-game press.

Until it isn’t.

“You threw a one-hundred-and-one mile per hour pitch out there eighty pitches in. And it was accurate. Why are you hanging up your glove when you have some good years left?”

Emma flinches at the question, but it’s one she knew he would get. It was pretty much inevitable.

Killian’s hand reaches up to rub over his eyes, the blue sparkling against the red rims from where he’s cried and tried to hide out. “Look,” Killian starts while staring down at the baseball cap in front of him, signatures from every single teammate marking it up, “I get that I’m only thirty-three. That’s not old in life, but on occasion, it’s old in sports. The fact that I’ve played this game professionally for twelve years for the same team is a wonderful honor, especially when you consider the issues I’ve had with my shoulder. I think…it feels damn good to be able to throw an accurate strike like that one you mentioned, but it feels better to be able to hold my son without pain. It feels better for me to be able to embrace my wife or keep my arm around her shoulder while we watch a movie. Those are things I might not be able to do if I keep playing and screw my arm up a little bit more.”

Emma adjusts Jace in her arms, careful not to rouse him since he’s probably about five minutes from sleep. The kid has no idea the declaration of love his dad just made for the two of them, all of the declarations he’s been making, and he has no idea just how lucky they are that the sweet man having to talk to strangers about a huge part of his life ending is also the dumbass who thought it would be a good idea to ask her out on television.

It’s a good thing that Killian has learned from his mistakes and that she knows how to forgive.

“So you’re retiring because of your family? Lots of guys play with families.”

Killian rolls his eyes. Emma does too.

“I’m retiring because it’s my time,” Killian corrects with a forced smile on his face. “I love this game and everything that it has given me. I’m never truly going to leave it. I think I’ll likely take a few years off, maybe spend a hell of a lot of time making another kid with my wife, and then I’ll come back somehow. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get into the commentator’s booth with Emma. I think we’d make a hell of a team, and there’s nothing I’d love more than working with her again. Maybe I’ll be a coach for an MLB team or for a college or for my kid’s little league team. I don’t know yet. I haven’t exactly gotten it figured out.”

“One more question,” Ariel calls out, and Emma swears that she’s not crying. Nope. It’s not a thing that’s happening.

Except that she’s definitely crying and far too emotional, and she doesn’t want Killian to be up there by himself for his last press conference question. So as there’s a loud chorus of questions with every reporter’s hand raised, Killian still trying to pick someone to ask a question, Emma moves around the side of the room until she’s stepping up on the stage, her heels clacking against the platform, until she’s gently sitting down on Killian’s lap.

He rolled back in his chair in anticipation of her walking this way.

And his hand is warm on her arm and around Jace’s back, and just the slight touch is enough to make her emotional all over again.

Killian deserved to go out winning the World Series again. He deserved for his Hall of Fame career to have a big bang for an ending instead of a quiet fizzle, but life doesn’t work out that way. If this is what he wants, this is what he wants, and it’ll be perfect for him.

“Lawrence,” Killian calls out, nodding to the reporter who took over Emma’s job at ESPN.

“In all of your career, what’s been your favorite moment? Do you have one?”

Killian snickers at the question before turning to the side and pressing a kiss against her forehead. “World Series 2019, game seven. That was the year that changed every aspect of my life, and that game was incredible. I don’t think I’d ever experienced such an adrenaline high before. I don’t know if I have since in terms of baseball. I just…that was a special win for me because I got to do it with my mates, a lot of whom have retired since then or been traded to other teams, but I also got to do it with Emma. I know that I…God, I know that I sound like a sap right now, and I – ”

Killian tilts his head to the side and buries his face in her hair while his arm tightens around she and Jace. She can feel his body shaking the slightest bit.

“It’s okay, Killian,” Emma promises, whispering in his ear while Jace twitches in her arms, waking up the slightest bit. “You’re doing great, twenty-nine.”

“I was a fucking liar when I said that today wasn’t a big deal.”

“I know.”

He chuckles, that same chuckle she’s heard almost every day for six years, and when Killian pulls back from the two of them, he’s got a smile on his face.

“That year was the first time I had a partner in my life outside of my brother that I knew was always going to be by my side, no matter what happened, and I think baseball wise, that moment is always going to be my favorite. I’ve loved almost every minute of this journey, even having to deal with all of you guys hounding me about every move that I make, but if you don’t mind, I think I’ve got a toddler who is fast asleep and needs to go home.”

Emma twists her head to look at Killian, and he throws her a wink before leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers in a kiss while applause fills the room, an echo of the standing ovation Killian received while out on the field. He doesn’t stay to listen to this one, though. Instead, he encourages her to stand from the chair, and the two of them walk out of the room with his arm looped around her waist to the sound of people cheering for Killian.

He deserves every single clap.

They don’t stick around the stadium much longer. Killian runs into a few people who want to say goodbye, mostly those who won’t see him in their personal lives, but they’re able to leave pretty quickly. Their families have already gone home per Killian’s request of not making a big deal out of today. They’ll have some kind of celebration next week, one full of food and laughter and joy that isn’t so bittersweet like today.

When they get home, Jace is completely out, the car ride having knocked any remaining wakefulness out of him, and instead of waking him, Emma tells Killian to go take a shower while she changes Jace into his pajamas. He protests, like he always does, but eventually he relents and walks out of the room and down the hall to their bathroom so that he can shower. Emma figures that he likely needs a little time alone anyway.

It’s a weird day.

Once Jace is asleep, his arms wrapped around Will, the stuffed lobster toy that Jace named after Will Scarlet, Emma quietly turns on the baby monitor and closes the door behind her before making her way to the bedroom. The water in the shower is running, a constant hum of a stream, and Emma really does intend to let Killian be and let him have his moment alone where no one will bother him while the warm water beats against his skin. But Killian left the door to the bathroom open, pretty much inviting her inside, and she doesn’t think that he’ll mind even if her plan is simply to stand underneath the water with him and have her makeup fall down her face until she’s left looking like a terrifying clown.

Slowly, she steps into the room, the tile cool against her feet, and strips out of her clothes, picking them up off the floor and throwing them into the hamper. Killian hasn’t noticed her yet, the water pressure too high for him to hear her, and he’s got his back turned to her so that she has a view of strong legs and a firm ass that looks a million times better like this than in baseball pants.

She’s lucky for a lot of reasons. The muscles that stretch up Killian’s back and his arms tick off some of the more superficial ones.

Steam escapes the shower door when she opens it, a little bit of water too, but then she’s quickly pulling the clear glass door closed and stepping onto white tile so that she can wrap her arms around Killian’s waist, her finger threading into the patch of hair over his stomach, and her cheek nuzzling between his shoulder blades. Heat curls between her thighs at the feel of him, at knowing just how much she loves him, but instead of acting on any of it, she presses her lips to his back, laying soft kisses wherever she can while Killian’s hand comes to rest over hers.

“I thought you had banished me in here so that I could be alone,” he finally says as the water continues to pound down on them.

“Do you want to be alone?”

“I want to be with you.”

Emma hums and moves her arms from his stomach, sliding them up his body until her hands come to rest on his arms. Killian grunts something unintelligible, a mixture of pleasure and relief, and she’s barely even begun to work out the knots in his shoulder. He didn’t get his post-match massage, none of his usual recovery happening, so his shoulders are particularly tense. She knows exactly what to do, which muscles to apply pressure to and which to knead. It’s a rhythm and a practice that they’re been doing for years now to make sure Killian’s shoulder doesn’t get too stiff in the middle of the night.

Running her hands from his shoulders to his neck, she kneads the straining cords there while Killian reaches forward to press both of his hands against the tiled wall. His head drops, chin practically touching his chest, and his groan is almost more than Emma can handle.

“Fuck, love. I don’t...this feels so damn good, but if I don’t get to touch you soon, I’m going to lose my bloody mind.”

The heat she feels at his words, spoken in a deep and gravely tone, is almost dizzying, and Emma is ready to let him touch her, to let him bring her to life in the way that he always does. But today is Killian’s day, whether he wants to accept that or not, and instead of letting Killian turn around and kiss her, Emma wraps her arms around his waist again, dipping lower and lower until she can feel him straining warmly against his stomach.

She wants to tease him, to draw this out and make him go crazy with want now that they have actual alone time together, but Emma’s never been very good at being patient, especially not when it comes to this man wanting her. Killian’s the patient one, the one who is willing to wait until things are right, but his shallowed breathing and stuttered words make her think that he’s not very interested in being patient right now.

“Emma,” he breathes out, a mixture between a plea and a promise.

“You do this thing,” Emma begins as her finger traces underneath him, tracing a line in the vein in his length that Killian loves for her to do, “with your arms that make your veins more prominent. It’s just, like, all of the time, and your forearms are ridiculous. I get distracted staring at them. You’re a very distracting man.”

She wraps her fingers around his cock now, slow and steady as Killian’s knuckles practically go as white as the tile, and moves it in long strokes. Killian is very obviously trying to keep from thrusting his hips, the tenseness in his body back in full force, and all Emma can do is continue to stroke him and let him find more pleasure than pain as the water falls down around them and causes the hair on Killian to mat together and for the hair on her head to tangle.

“Sometimes I worry that I don’t let you know how much I love you,” she continues while Killian’s feet move and his hips begin to pump, aiding her hand in its work. “You’re so good with words and affection, with letting me know how much I mean to you, and I wish I could do the same with you. You deserve that.”

Killian’s step falters once more, and Emma thinks that he’s on the precipice of coming until he turns around, her hand falling from him as Killian’s hands come up to grip her face, kissing her with something approaching desperation. His tongue is sinful, hot and wet mixing in with hers, and Emma can feel his all the way down to her toes. There have been times over the years when they’ve gone through rough patches, when things weren’t always great between the two of them simply because of busy schedules or disagreements, but they’ve always worked back from those and come back to this.

Come back to this and everything else that makes up the two of them: baseball games, late-night baking sessions that never go right, attending far too many weddings and baby showers, having their own wedding at a courthouse on a random Wednesday, racing each other through Central Park as they run, laughing at the other as they trip over a pair of socks, sharing the depths of their hearts while under the covers, the lights of the city surrounding them.

Sobbing at a false positive on a pregnancy test. Sobbing at the accurate positive.

It’s a whirlwind, their life, and none of that can encapsulate it all.

Emma’s eyes are shut tightly as Killian continues to kiss her, his mouth insistent, and there’s no stopping the curl of heat now. Absolutely none. Especially when Killian moves his left hand and turns the water off, the stream immediately stopping so that chilled air hits the heat of her skin, gooseflesh rising. It’s cold, that’s undeniable, but Emma doesn’t care as her desire roars and Killian slowly backs them out of the shower with water dripping down both of their bodies.

“I swear if you let me trip, Jones,” Emma mumbles out as her feet hit against the cloth of the mat in the bathroom.

“You’ll what, Jones?” He enunciates the last word with a flick of his tongue against hers before he’s pulling back so that her nipples are no longer brushing against the thick patch of hair on his chest. Emma whines, her thighs too slick with wanting him to even care how desperate she sounds, and all Killian does is grab a towel from the shelf to wrap around her body, the soft cotton nothing compared to Killian’s touch. Even if he’s being an asshole right now. “I know you’re capable of a myriad of things darling, but I think you’re too desperate for me to do any of them.”

“You’re pretty confident in yourself, aren’t you?”

The towel tugs tighter around her waist, pulling her back into Killian so that his straining length brushes the inside of her thigh, and his lips are so close to her ear, breath heavy, that she’s not sure if she can handle any more of this. “Extremely. You usually like that about me.”

“You’ve had a lot of people complimenting you today. I wouldn’t want it to get into your head.”

“Of course. You’re here to keep me humble.”

“Exactly. I’m very good at my job.”

“Mhm,” Killian hums as the towel drops around them and Killian’s hands find the globes of her ass, kneading both of them while he continues to back them up into the bedroom. His lips are on her neck, her shoulder, back to her lips. “I love you, you know? It’s ridiculous how much.”

“Funny thing, I feel the same way.”

“Good.”

Once Emma falls against the mattress, they come together quickly, easily, like they have thousands of times before. Killian knows each inch of her skin intimately, knows just where to kiss and to touch and how to thrust, and it takes absolutely no time for her to begin to feel that desperation of needing him seep into her bones and settle there like it’s going to make a permanent stay. He’s fully seated in her, a heavy and thick drag that is like nothing else, and she can feel all of him hovering over her, heat and strength surrounding her he takes his time with his thrusts.

They’re slow, languid, and so damn breathtaking that Emma can’t even speak. She’s not sure that she wants to. Sometimes sex is just sex, a simple release of desire and passion to physically feel good. Other times it’s words of affection written with each kiss and feelings of love enunciated with each thrust and swirl of a thumb over a bundle of nerves.

Right now is the second one, and every word that Killian spoke to her earlier – in the hallways, on the field, in the press room – is echoed back to her as he moves within her and over her, his lips writing his love while Emma holds on and attempts to write the same words back.

Her heartbeat is thundering, a sound so loud that it blocks out nearly every other noise, and then she’s there, falling apart with a plea and a whisper, pleasure shaking over her body faster than she thought it would.

Holy fuck.

“Fuck,” Killian repeats back, almost as if he heard her thoughts. “Fuck, love. You’re exquisite.”

“So are you. You planning on finishing anytime soon?”

“I’m an old man. I’ve got to catch my breath.”

Emma barks out a laugh that Killian captures with a resounding kiss while his hips snap into hers, a perfect fit that is like nothing else in the world, and as his fingers intertwine with hers and he pulls them up above both of their heads, Killian joins her in her bliss, his body tensing up as his words become breathless, a mess that gets carried away with the thrum of the ceiling fan.

They collapse against the mattress, a tangle of sweaty limbs and wet hair, and when Killian pulls the comforter up over them, Emma turns on her side until she’s snuggled against Killian’s chest with her cheek resting against his heart and his hands in her tangled hair.

“We’re going to have to take another shower.”

Emma laughs with unbridled joy before pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Tell me the truth. Did I have mascara running down my cheeks this entire time?”

“Oh, most definitely.”

“Totally worth it.”

“Tell that to sheets that have little black marks.”

“I think we can wash them.”

“Possibly,” Killian sighs. His hand moves down her back until it’s resting on her ass once more. “But your mascara is damn stubborn. Ruined one of my favorite shirts that way.”

“It did not.”

“No, no, it did. I swear.”

Emma huffs and reaches around to pinch Killian’s side. He doesn’t even flinch. “Would it be so terrible for the two of us to go downstairs and make some brownies and then eat all of them so that we don’t have to share with Jace?”

“I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had.” Killian winks, trademark smirk curling on his lips. “Besides asking me out. That was a pretty bold move on your part, Swan. You had no idea that I had feelings for you. It’s not as if I’d given you any inclination.”

Emma laughs again, uncurling herself from her husband and sitting up in bed with a sated, goofy grin. “I had a pretty good idea, my love.”

-/-

-/-

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[theoriginalladya]

@nightmarestudio606​ asked about Gabriel “Ree” Shepard for the OTP Asks questions found here.   Here you go, m’dear!  You know I’ll talk about my boys with you all day long!!!  Thank you so much for asking!!!!!

~~~~

3.  If they complimented each other, what would they say?

HAH!  Okay, so given the circumstances under which they meet, I find it giggle-worthy that they would even be ABLE to compliment one another! lol  However, as we both know, their relationship evolves and changes and ... well...

So ... Gabriel would probably say that once you get past the boy-scout, marine-poster image Kaidan presents, deep down he’s a kind, caring person who wants to leave the world a better place than he finds it.

Kaidan would probably say that The Butcher of Torfan is a more complex person than the reputation suggests.

5.  What activities do they enjoy together?

Play volleyball in Ree’s cabin or apartment using their biotics and a pillow.  Don’t ask - turns out it started as a pillow fight, but when you get two biotics together trying to have a pillow fight tends to lead to other ... things?  It’s a toss up as to which was most startled when it happened....  (there’s a story in there somewhere I’ll need to sort out ...).  Then again, biotic pillow fights are quite entertaining, too. ;)

Outside of the idiocy that the stresses of a Reaper War can bring with it, they like to go running together.  Back in the ME1 days, Ree (on a dare by Ashley) led them Parkouring through the Presidium, something he continues frequently.  More than once he’s been stopped by C-Sec only to have the Spectre card thrown back in their faces.  (note: Jack takes him up on the challenge during the ME2 era and between the two of them, there isn’t an area of the Citadel that hasn’t been Parkoured)  Kaidan tolerates it, mostly because later on during the war, it at least is a form of stress relief and he knows Gabriel enjoys it (as well as enjoys irritating C-Sec).

11.   What causes them to fight?

Um ... Torfan.  No, really.  Their first mission together, pre-ME1 they have to head back to Torfan.  Things go about as well as you expect for the Butcher of Torfan and ... well ... yeah.  So, once they’re on the Normandy together, they agree not to bring it up.  Kaidan does a lot of cringing whenever someone calls him the Butcher of Torfan, but he lets it go.

13.  Name something they would never do for the other person.

It takes Ree time to figure it out, but he will never ask Kaidan to go against his more paragon nature, despite the fact it occasionally causes tension between the two of them.  He loves how Kaidan will stand up for what he believes in and won’t back down because it differs from Ree’s.  

Kaidan will never ask Ree or expect him to change himself for Kaidan.  If change occurs, he’ll gladly accept it, but he won’t ask it of him.

16.  If they broke up, what would be their opinions of each other?

That depends on the circumstances, but I think they could probably find a way to walk away from each other and still respect them.  Unless, of course, one was with Cerberus and the other wasn’t ...  >.>  Or something to that effect.

18.  What would be their love motto?

The most important thing in love is trust.

21.  How have they changed each other for the better/for the worse?

The moment Kaidan literally takes a bullet for Ree, he starts seeing his situation, the world around him, completely differently.  It’s a process that takes a long time to fully evolve, but Ree would say Kaidan literally changes his view on everything.  He’s still the Butcher of Torfan and doesn’t ever lose that mentality completely, but by the end of the Reaper War, he’s a completely different person than he was back when they first run into Sovereign.

Kaidan would say that Ree is a reminder to him that there are times when it’s good to have someone who doesn’t allow sentiment and emotion get in the way of making a major decision around you.  But that said, he’s also a reminder of what Kaidan hopes he never becomes.  (The fact that he, too, sees Ree change by the end of the war is reassurance for him as well.)

26.  What are their favorite parts about physical affection/sex?

For Ree, it’s one of the ways he is comfortable expressing himself and his emotions.  For all the ruthlessness he shows on the battlefield, once they’re alone, Kaidan brings him out of that shell and he doesn’t have to think about being ‘a weapon’ for the Alliance or the decisions he’s had to make over the years to that end.  He can just be Ree Shepard, showing his partner how much he loves and cares about him.  Kaidan is a tactile person when you get right down to it, so the physical parts of their relationship are always his favorite.

28.  Write a ~300 fantasy one of them has about the other.

Really?????  Okay, here you go - not quite a ‘fantasy’ I suppose, but it’ll have to do.  And sometimes, reality is better than fantasy, right?  ;)

Okay, so maybe, just maybe, the biotic pillow fight begins as an idea in that hazy stage between sleep and wakefulness.  With as much stress as Ree deals with during the war, it isn’t inconceivable, right? And they are scheduled for some down time on the Citadel and he has this brand new apartment to break in, sooooooo …

After a few beers and several shots of whiskey between them, Ree teases Kaidan into issuing a challenge to see who has better fine control over their biotics.  In the process, Ree discovers that not only is he able to unbutton the major’s shirt but remove his belt and unbutton his pants.  It is also at this time Ree discovers that Kaidan is ridiculously, hilariously, adorably ticklish around his waist and hips.  Ree may let the biotics linger just a tad bit too long for the fun of it …

Of course, he notices the pillow within easy reach of Kaidan but ignores it until he becomes its target. Laughing so hard when it comes flying at him, he bats it back at Kaidan out of instinct and just like that, the game ensues.  Ducking, dodging, taking shelter behind furniture and tripping over their own clothing (Ree is not the only one who can manage buttons and zippers, after all) results in the both of them laughing so hard they end up crying, and that leads to other delightful antics, some of which may or may not include the biotics as well.  

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1980

Under the cut.

KC & The Sunshine Band -- "Please Don't Go" -- January 5, 1980

Is that falsetto in the opening or merely an attempt at it? KC & The Sunshine Band trying to do a sincere, sad ballad does not work. Now I have the dance remix by KWS that was a hit in the 90s (and apparently plagiarized from a Euro-dance group) in my head.

Michael Jackson -- "Rock With You" -- January 18, 1980

I thought I had never heard this song before until I heard the chorus. Oh yeah, this one. I don't know if Michael Jackson singing a sex jam would have worked for me before, well, all the child molestation coming to light. Now it really doesn't. There's only so much "separate the art from the artist" I'm capable of, though I am in favor of it. On another note, in the video, he's wearing the sparkliest outfit I have ever seen.

The Captain & Tennille -- "Do That To Me One More Time" -- February 16, 1980

I don't want to think about The Captain doing it even once. That is the problem with this song. Other than that, I think it's a perfectly acceptable cheesy love song. Well, except for the... plastic flute? I don't know what that is, but I'm not fond of it.

On a kind of strange note, I scrolled ahead, and starting here, I recognize almost all the songs for the next couple years on this list. Maybe they were played more on the oldies stations? At clubs? Restaurants? Maybe I came to musical consciousnous at three and a half years old?

Queen -- "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" -- February 23, 1980

 This is not a top tier Queen song, but Freddie Mercury belching would be better music than anything Barry Gibb did. Not top tier, but still very fun. And it's always great hearing Freddie Mercury do whatever the hell he wants to do with his voice. Here, he has fun doing a little bit of Elvis, but not too much. It's a rockability track by Queen. So it's great.

Pink Floyd -- "Another Brick in the Wall (Part II)" -- March 22, 1980

We don't need no education. This is a song about the horrible British teachers who used withering sarcasm and cruelty against the children under their care. (Like Snape, basically.) I think it's about boarding schools, since the teachers apparently have control over whether or not the kids get pudding. British boarding schools were terrible. British boarding schools are terrible, though they seem to be trying to be better. We'll see. They have hundreds of years' practice at bricking kids' psyches up in walls, and I don't trust them to change. Um, anyway, it's a good song, but not one I'd choose to listen to separate from the entire album.

Blondie -- "Call Me" -- April 19, 1980

This song actually does start with "Color me your color, baby." Or I suppose "colour" since Blondie are Brits. But it's not like the lyrics are deep -- if you can understand "Call me," you get it. I guess it's technically a love song, but since Debbie Harry sings in such an intentionally icy manner, it's anything but passionate. It's still fun and light and musically interesting.

Lipps, Inc. -- "Funkytown" -- May 31, 1980

This song is about moving out of a town that's stifling and to a town that's right for you -- "Funkytown." It could be any big city with a music scene. It's a dance song with very few lyrics, and yet the lyrics are important. The singer has "talked about it talked about it talked about it," but is determined to finally do it. It's a good funky disco song, and a good send-off for the genre's dominance.

Paul McCartney and theWings -- "Coming Up (Live At Glasgow)" -- June 28, 1980

It sounds a little bit like McCartney trying to do Philly soul, horns included. But lighter, because Paul McCartney. I can't remember the lyrics even just after I heard them, but it's a love song. Quite boring.

Billy Joel -- "It's Still Rock and Roll to Me" -- July 19, 1980

I love a lot of Billy Joel songs. I don't really love this one. I like the sentiment -- "Oh, it doesn't matter what they say in the papers/ 'Cause it's always been the same old scene/ There's a new band in town but you can't get the sound/ From a story in a magazine/ Aimed at your average teen." He also criticizes the 80s' roaring materialism, which hadn't even hit its nadir yet. But I dunno. Maybe it's a little slow? It needs something.

Olivia Newton-John -- "Magic" -- August 2, 1980

I had never heard of the movie Xanadu until about a decade ago. It's a staple of bad movie sites. Its plot is bonkers, and some very 1980 blockhead is the male lead. The story would have made more sense and the movie been far better if Olivia Newton-John's character had gotten together with Gene Kelly, who's also in the movie, instead. Anyway, this love song is from the movie's soundtrack. It's got a little bit of that mystical vibe that Stevie Nicks did so well, and that always appeals to me. I can't pretend this is a great song, or even necessarily a good one. But it speaks to the 12-year old in me.

Christopher Cross -- "Sailing" -- August 30, 1980

This is the most Florida song ever. Because it doesn't sound like he really has a boat. "Fantasy, it gets the best of me/ When I'm sailing/ All caught up in the reverie, every word is a symphony/ Won't you believe me?" Musically, it sounds like it would go well with a sailboat. But almost none of us have sailboats. We have fantasies. It's a nice-sounding song, and if you think about it enough, it becomes more complex than it seems.

Diana Ross -- "Upside Down" -- September 6, 1980

I'm going to have to face up to the fact that I usually don't like how Diana Ross sings. She's too slick and detached for me, without lyrics that go with that. I cannot believe this woman was ever turned "upside down" by love. And of course the guy she's singing this to is cheating. But she's okay with it, because of course she is, he's just so awesome that she's singing to him "respectfully." I like this song musically, except for Diana Ross' emotionally distant singing, but I hate the lyrics, and I am extremely sick of this no-maintenance schtick.

Queen -- "Another One Bites the Dust" -- October 4, 1980

This might be the only Queen song I don't like. I'm not saying it's bad. It's probably very good. But I have heard the chorus way too much. Otoh, I've heard "We Will Rock You" even more, and I still like that. Maybe there's too much... stuff in this one? I don't know. It's definitely too repetitive. It's no "Don't Stop Me Now," that's for sure. Queen's best songs never reached #1 in the U.S., and I don't know if any came near until "Bohemian Rhapsody" hit #2 when I was in high school. But reaching the charts is a very bad sign of whether or not music is actually good.

Barbra Streisand -- "Woman in Love" -- October 25, 1980

I'm not going to go back to check, but I think Barbra Streisand has exactly the same pose and expression on the covers of all her singles. This one was written by Barry Gibb, oh joy. I wondered if this would be an additive or a multiplicative factor in how bad the song (which I had never heard) was. Something happened that I didn't expect: It made the song so boring it slips out of my head while I’m listening to it. There's the line "no truth is ever a lie." Brilliant, Barry, what a lyricist. Also, that line is not true. Barry Gibb was apparently not familiar with Othello. Anyway, since I'm just bored, I guess Streisand and Gibb together is actually better than them separately. Still bad, though.

Kenny Rogers -- "Lady" -- November 15, 1980

It's a love song in which the narrator sings that he's your knight in shining armor. That sentiment should be surrounded by more interesting music in some way. Something operatic, or mystical, or country, something. Kenny Rogers was never one of my favorites, but he's capable of something. This song is nothing. Lionel Richie wrote it, so of course.

John Lennon -- "(Just Like) Starting Over" -- December 27, 1980

This song hit #1 just after Lennon was murdered. I was 4 years old, but I actually remember when John Lennon was murdered -- I was in the car with one or more parental units (I don't remember who), and it came on the radio. I was upset. I knew Beatles music, my parents played it all the time, and I knew who John Lennon was. I'm still extremely sad about his death today. This song is about how happy he was with Yoko, all settled down and looking forward to a nice, calm, loving future together. Ugh I'm gonna cry.

BEST OF 1980 -- "Crazy Little Thing Called Love" by Queen. WORST OF 1980 -- "Please Don't Go" by KC & The Sunshine Band

[marshmallow-phd]

Midnight Hours

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Wolf!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: For you, being a good witch was easier said than done. Something dark was lurking inside of you and the others knew it. When you’re forced to tag along with Soomi and help a local wolfpack face a coming evil, you’re sent on a path that breaks into a crossroads. While you struggle with your inner demons, could the wolf Sehun be the key to your ultimate fate?

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I 14 I 15 I 16 I 17 I Final

**

You woke up alone and confused. None of your surroundings looked familiar and you racked your brain trying to remember where you were. 

Ah, right. The wolf pack. This was their house. And you were in some random wolf’s room. 

Soomi was no longer beside you, nothing but rustled sheets where she’d fallen asleep so easily last night. She must have already gone downstairs. Great. Now you’d have to make the descension on your own. Gathering up your toiletries, you slowly pulled open the door and searched around the hallway. Voices echoed up from the living spaces below, but besides that there didn’t seem to be a soul around. 

With the coast clear, you hightailed it over to the bathroom, finding it made easy by the fact that someone had left it wide open. Double checking that the door was securely locked, you went through a quick version of your morning routine and then rushed back to the bedroom to get changed. 

Once you were ready to head downstairs, you found yourself frozen, unable to tackle that first step. 

Come on, (y/n). They’re just wolves. They won’t hurt you. What’s the worst that could happen?

Bravery at its highpoint, you buckled down the nerves bubbling in your stomach and headed down the stairs. 

The kitchen felt like chaos personified as soon as you stepped foot in its boundaries. 

Wolves and their mates were scattered all over the linoleum; eating, standing, talking loudly, and overall creating an atmosphere that made you want to turn around and jump back in between the covers. Unfortunately, you were spotted before you could even try. 

“(y/n), you’re up!” Soomi oh-so-graciously pointed you out as soon as she saw you. Too many eyes to be even remotely comfortable whirled on you, creating a silence that was even more compressing than the noise. 

Unsure of what else to do, you waved with a strained smile on your lips. “Hi.”

“(y/n), go ahead and sit down,” Junmyeon offered as he half-shoved, half-urged one of the wolves out of a chair from the table. 

“Hey!” the black-haired wolf whined with a pout as he stumbled to his feet. 

“You’re done eating, Jongdae, and she’s a guest,” Junmyeon huffed. He said it like such a mom you couldn’t help but choke back a snort. 

You tried to cover it up with a cough while several of the wolves smirked at you. Waving your hands in front of you, you insisted, “No, really, it’s okay. I’d rather stand.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Soomi asked, concerned. 

“I’m good for now,” you said. It was mostly true. You were too nervous even think about trying to get food down to your stomach. Feeling a bit exposed in your current position, you shuffled across the room until you were next to Soomi at the counter. 

One of the wolves dressed in very casual athletic wear handed you a fresh mug that was a comfort to your sweaty cold fingers. 

“Thank you,” you told him quietly. He gave you a wide gummy smile before walking away. 

“So, should we get started?” Junmyeon suggested as he clapped his hands. 

“What about Sehun?” a tall wolf with ears sticking out asked. 

“He stayed out late last night,” said the imposing wolf with a deep voice and an air that radiated authority. He was seated at the breakfast booth with an adorable little girl with long hair sitting on his lap. “If he wants to keep sleeping, let him. We’ll catch him up later.”

Sehun? Was that who you saw last night? Too bad you didn’t have a face to add to the name. All you had were a pair of shoulders in a white t-shirt. If you were going to be here a while, you might as well start learning the names of the crowd. Junmyeon was the only one you knew and that was from a brief encounter several years ago. He wasn’t mated back then….

“(y/n)?”

You blinked, coming back to the present. “Yeah?”

“Can you go into detail about your last vision, please?” Junmyeon asked. 

“Um, sure.” Scratching the back of your head, you searched for the best way to verbalize what you had seen so that they would understand. “This one was the most clear, I guess? I was in the woods, at night. The blood moon was high and bright. A woman I didn’t recognize was there. She had platinum hair, but that’s all I could tell. I couldn’t see her face.”

“So, in your visions, you’re physically there as well?” one of the wolves asked. 

You nodded in response. “That’s what it feels like anyway.”

“Is it possible that this woman might be a witch?” Junmyeon hypothesized. 

The wolf named Jongdae growled threateningly and pulled the woman standing next to him in closer to his chest. 

“Calm down, Jongdae,” said the authoritative wolf. “That business is over. I doubt someone else is coming after your mate. Especially now that she’s marked.”

“Well excuse me for being cautious over the witch and blood moon combination,” Jongdae scoffed. The woman in his arms patted his hands caringly. 

“So what should we do?” one of the younger wolves asked with great concern. His face was a strange combination of sharp and soft. Judging against the others, you guessed that he was one of the younger ones of the pack. 

The wolf with the ears pushed his mouth into a pout. “Is there anything we can do?”

Junmyeon ran a hand through his hair. “Soomi and I are going to do more research on who this woman could be or what significant events could happen under a blood moon. Kita is looking into it as well and will update me if she’s found anything when she gets back.”

You couldn’t help it. Even if you’d been fully awake you didn’t think you would have been to hold back your facial muscles from forming a look of disgust and sending it Soomi’s way. Was she really going to put herself through that?

As soon as she caught your stare, Soomi elbowed you in the stomach to make it go away. 

“Ow,” you hissed under your breath. Rubbing the sore spot by your hip, you happened to look up and meet eyes with a blonde haired wolf. He looked at you curiously, his head tilted to the side and a confused frown pulling on his eyebrows. You looked away as you formed your face back into a neutral expression. 

“Do you realize how much significance a blood moon has in different cultures?” another wolf scoffed. 

“Baekhyun’s right,” the authoritative wolf agreed. “You might be able to narrow it down, but there’s no way to get a definite answer. What good does that do?”

“It gives us a starting point at least,” Junmyeon argued. “In the meantime, we’ll see if (y/n) has anymore visions. Since the girls are staying here, we’ll know right away and be able to add whatever she sees to what we already know.”

“Which is an extremely short list.”

“Wait, they’re staying here?” Baekhyun looked like his alpha had just told him he wasn’t allowed to phase for a month. “Isn’t this place crowded enough?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Junmyeon was getting visibly frustrated. You felt a little sorry for the alpha. He was only trying his best. The circumstances didn’t exactly allow for much wiggle room. Granted, you weren’t too pleased about this whole thing either, but you’d done your arguing. Now you were going to just take whatever hits were sent your way. It couldn’t get any worse anyway. Right?

“I know construction on the other house isn’t finished yet, but we’ll have to make do. I promised Mother Willow that we would keep Soomi and (y/n) safe. I’m not going to risk them staying an hour away in the city where we can’t protect them.”

“We’ll stay out of your way as much as possible,” Soomi promised before looking pointedly down at you. 

With an obviously fake cheerfulness, you added, “Staying invisible is what I do best!”

Junmyeon didn’t find the joke particularly funny. “(y/n), that’s not neces-”

“Why is everyone having a meeting without me?”

All heads in the room turned to look at the newcomer. 

Standing at the bottom of the steps just inside the kitchen was the final wolf, the one you’d barely caught a glimpse of the night before. He was just as tall as you’d thought and your memory hadn’t exaggerated his wide shoulders. But when your eyes settled on his face, your heart did a cartwheel, banging against your sternum painfully. You looked away quickly, pretending to be uninterested in hopes of getting your heart rate back to normal. 

“Nice for you to finally join us, Sehun,” Jongdae said mockingly. 

“What did you do to your hair?” Junmyeon exclaimed in a very parental voice. But Sehun didn’t reply. 

Too curious for your own good, you looked back at the wolf to see why he didn’t answer. When you did, you frowned. 

Because he was staring right back at you, a confused expression scrunching his features. Was he not expecting you like the others? 

Your heart was nearly in your throat by now and you couldn’t get it to calm down. What the hell was wrong with you?

“Sehun!”

**

Sehun blinked, finally pulled from his confused state of mind. 

“What?” he snapped. Everyone was staring at him, including Soomi and another female he’d never seen before. 

“I asked ‘what did you do to your hair?’” Junmyeon repeated. 

Sehun bit back a smirk as he ran a hand over his new hair. 

It was supposed to come out as a more neon orange, but he didn’t completely hate the more copper tone it took on. That’s what he got for dying his hair blonde for years, he guessed. The new length was taking some getting used to, but he liked the lightness of it, already feeling cooler than the heaviness of the longer hair. 

Shrugging, he finally answered, “I wanted to try something different. Not like you haven’t done it before.”

Junmyeon looked like he wanted to argue back, but he held it back, only releasing a sigh and shaking his head. 

“So what did I miss?” Sehun asked, refusing to allow his eyes to flicker over to the additional females. Well, to one specific female really and it wasn’t Junmyeon’s old crush. 

When he’d first reached the kitchen, he’d been surprised at the fact that literally everyone in the pack – mates, members, and even little Mei – was shoved inside the food area. The atmosphere felt serious and tense, which was the exact opposite of what Sehun was wanting this morning after had gotten very little sleep. He wanted the chaotic yelling and roughhousing that he was used to. And food. He really wanted food. 

Stepping further into the kitchen, he forced himself to a stop when he realized what direction he was headed for. Why his body was headed for you was lost on him. Now he was stuck awkwardly standing in the middle of the kitchen with no way to play if off. 

“We were talking about what to do about (y/n)’s visions?” Kris answered. 

Sehun frowned. “Who?”

“That would be me.”

Turning to the voice that had called out, Sehun braced himself. Now he had a name to go with the face that had made him feel so confused. But why was he so confused? You were the witch who had seen something coming after them. Okay. Big deal. They were a large pack. They could hold their own against whatever came their way. They’d proven that with the hybrids years ago. So what were you doing here now and when would you leave?

The wolf in Sehun’s chest growled at his last question. What was that about? Sure, you were pretty, but that never moved Sehun before. He never cared about looks or anything like that before. But now there you were, holding a hand up and wiggling your fingers at him sarcastically and he was feeling… something. 

It took effort, but Sehun managed to tear his gaze away from you to look at his alpha. “Did she actually see anything this time?”

“Excuse you! I’m standing right here!” you barked. 

Rolling his eyes, Sehun shifted to face you head on. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears as your eyes met. There was no control over it no matter how hard he tried to shove it down. Even if he couldn’t put a stop to it on the inside, he managed to stay composed on the outside. “Alright, then. Did you actually see something this time? Or do we still only have to go by what you felt?”

“Screw you!” 

Having touch a very sensitive nerve, you pushed off the counter and stormed up to him. However, instead of stopping in his face, you kept going, checking him with your shoulder before you continued on your way out the door. 

In any other given situation, Sehun would have mouthed off some sarcastic comment to get the last word in. But in the shove, your bare arm made contact with his, sending a shockwave through his body. It was a hot electricity - not the kind that hurt, but the kind he might find himself chasing after. Unable to help himself, he turned and watched you disappear into the backyard. 

“Was that entirely necessary?” Junmyeon whined. 

“Leave it to Sehun to piss off the witch,” Tao snickered behind him. 

Sighing, Soomi started for the back door. “It’s alright. She’s just having a hard time right now.”

“I think Sehun should go apologize to her.” Junmyeon gave the younger wolf a very pointed look. And for once, he wasn’t going to argue. He’d even taken a step to go find you. 

“No, that’s not a good idea right now,” Soomi argued. “Trust me. It’s better if it’s me that goes after her.”

Sehun didn’t argue. In fact, he whirled on his heels and headed in the opposite direction, right out the front door. As soon as his bare feet hit the grassy carpet, he shifted. 

He was only beginning to understand what had happened when he first saw you. And to be honest, he didn’t know how to feel. So, for now, he’d simply ignore it. He didn’t know if you felt or understood what was happening and he didn’t really feel like explaining it to you while everything else was going on. As long as you didn’t outright reject him, he had time. 

So, he was going to take all the time he wanted. 

**

You’d found a rather large tree to hide behind once you thought you were deep enough into the woods. Right now you wanted to be alone. There were too many bodies, too many eyes watching you and you hated it. How did they live so cramped in there? How were you supposed to live like that?

The worst was you were going to have to be around him. Sehun. 

Sure, you’d had similar thoughts in the beginning, when the visions first started. You thought everyone was making a bigger deal of them than necessary. But you got past that. You came to terms with the fact that this was truly something to be worried about. And now no one understood that more than you. To be questioned now...

Leaning your head back against the trunk, you tried to push away the scene from the kitchen. The best way to ignore your hurt feelings was to focus on something else. So you did. 

You were all alone out here and, while there wasn’t any water, you had plenty to work with. There was a slight breeze in the air, rustling the fallen leaves that were scattered around the forest floor. Closing your eyes, you concentrated on moving the air at a faster speed. 

At first, nothing happened, but then you could feel the wind picking up against your skin. For some reason, that element was always the easiest for you to manipulate. All you had to do was let go, be light. And then you could make it move. 

“(y/n)?”

Your eyes snapped open and you peeked around the tree. Then you snorted. Soomi was standing just a few feet away, her hair whipped all around her face and stuck in her mouth. She blew out the hair and fixed it the best she could with her hand before taking a few more steps forward. 

“You really need to relearn restraint, (y/n),” she scolded as she sat down beside you. “These wolves are weary enough as it is. If they found out what you could do… I’m worried about how they’d react. I don’t want them to be scared of you.”

“So, I’ll always have to hide who I am, huh?” you scoffed. Why should you expect anything different?

“It’s not hiding who you are,” she insisted. “It’s simply protecting yourself. The last thing I want is for you to get used.”

“I can take care of myself,” you argued. 

Soomi gave you a smile before pulling you in close. “I know. But that won’t ever stop me from being protective over you.”

You couldn’t resist. You wrapped your arms around her waist and shuffled in deeper to the hug. After a few minutes of silence, you commented, “Coming here was pointless, just like I said.”

Soomi huffed. “It’s not pointless. We’ll find out the answers we’re looking for. Just give it time. Please?”

You didn’t answer. Because you didn’t want to. Even though you were out of Mother Willow’s house and away from the coven for the first time, you were feeling just as trapped. All you wanted was to be free. Free to see the world. Free to be who you were. 

It seemed no matter how hard you chased it, however, it would always be just out of your reach.

[looselucy]

Sinking

July 16th “Do you want a brew? Kettles just boiled.” “Yeah, yeah. Thanks.” Lin accepted my offer, stood unnervingly beside the door leading into my flat. “You can sit, if ya want. Ease up.” I instructed as I began making his drink. “If anyone should feel awkward, it’s definitely me.”

Though we’d spent some more time together in the pub the evening before, we were all far too wrapped up in the fact that Harry had shown up to concentrate on anything else. Everyone had their own theories as to why he’d come back, why he’d come into the pub, why he’d ran out of there only seconds after arriving. They’d asked me what I’d managed to get out of him when I chased him out the doors, and I wasn’t even lying when I told them I’d gotten nothing whatsoever. Myself and Lincoln hadn’t had the chance to talk in the way I knew we needed to, so I’d invited him around to mine the following morning to talk things through, straighten things out. I needed to get something in my life back in order. “Tea or coffee?” “Um… Coffee, please. Thanks. You feeling any better this morning?” I couldn’t necessarily get a real grasp on how I was feeling. I was exhausted more than anything. The evening before barely felt real, I was amazed that it had actually happened, so much so that I hadn’t really been able to process it. I was keeping those thoughts at bay and dealing with the only thing I could, the only thing that was within my power to change. That was my situation with Lin. “I am, yeah. Last night was… a mess.” I sighed. “How about you?” “I’m alright. And I wanted to say sorry, about last night. I told myself I wouldn’t get like that-” “Please don’t apologise, Lin.” I carried his drink over, receiving a quiet thank you and then sitting down in the armchair across from him. “I know I handled it all… really terribly, so I owe you an apology, if anything. I’m sorry for blocking you out like I did, I just felt really guilty and I’d had a weird few weeks and… I dunno. I try really hard to just face stuff head-on but… it didn’t feel that easy with you.” Lin had never given me a reason to be angry, he’d never done anything that might put me off, so frankly, it didn’t feel like I had much of a reason to turn around and reject him when he’d been so wonderful to me, and that made it difficult! I was much better at being honest and explaining my feelings when there was something driving me, whether that was love, frustration, sadness, whatever it may be. Without a definite drive and knowing the outcome would be hurtful to someone I cared so deeply about, even though I knew it wasn’t right, my instinct had been to ignore it, block it out, put it to one side because that was the easier thing to do. “It was shit not hearing anything from you, y’know? It was really shit.” “I know it was. I know. It was a shit thing to do. I don’t have an argument, I’m not gunna back myself. It was shit, and I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath in, leaning back and letting out a large sigh before he created a very minor, contrived smile. “It’s alright, I guess. The main thing I care about right now is making sure our friendship is alright, which I can’t really do unless you talk to me. That’s why I was pissed off.” “I know, and I’m done with that bullshit. I won’t… hide away, I promise.” I comforted. “And we’ll be alright, y’know? Like… it’s me and you. I think even if we tried to stop being friends it wouldn’t work.” “I hope so.” He smiled, but it still wasn’t entirely convincing. “How do you… feel about it all?” “A bit disappointed, to be honest.” He answered after taking a sip. “I wish I’d just… left it.” As much as I couldn’t blame him for the way he was looking back at the situation, I didn’t want him to feel that way at all. It may have all seemed rather futile at that point, but I didn’t want him to regret taking the risk and asking me. I understood that it was different for him, because it was so easy for me to feel that way, but he was the one who had put himself out there and made himself vulnerable. “I don’t want you to feel like that.” I mumbled down to my lap. “I’m glad you asked. I loved our date, it was… It was nice, wasn’t it? I had such a lovely time with you.” “Then what changed?” “I don’t think anything changed. I… My feelings didn’t really change from what I said to you whilst we were still there.” “But you stopped communicating them. Why?” I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to clarify what had changed, why I had withdrawn the way I had. It was everything to do with my discovery of the Blood Sun in my shop, the way Harry had come back into my life. That was something I didn’t feel I could express to him, because it wouldn’t be a simple explanation. “I… I don’t know. It… I…” “Is it because of Harry?” I shot my head up to look at him, which was likely enough of an answer. I didn’t really need to say anything after that, because the look on my face answered everything. “Shit. I’m right, aren’t I?” “How did… I… I don’t really know what to say.” “You and Harry?” He gasped. “Uh… Sorta. Yeah. How did you know?” “Fuck. Well, a few things flagged back in the day, when he was here, but nothing major. I think the main thing for me was last night though! You both freaked out seeing each other! As soon as you ran out after him, we all had questions.” “For fuck sake. I can guarantee they’re questions I don’t wanna answer.” “Does Louis know about it?” “Yeah.” “I fucking knew it.” He clapped his hands together, sat up. “He’s a good liar, but I knew it!” “He’s not known long. I didn’t tell anyone at the time. I don’t really like telling anyone now.” “Why?” “Because it makes me miserable.” I groaned. “There’s nothing to say anymore.” He nodded, not asking me for more information after that. Lin didn’t feel the need to try and pry answers from me; I’d told him I didn’t like talking about it, and that was enough for him to ignore his nose and leave it be. “Basically,” I moved on quickly. “I just don’t want you to come out of this thing with us… feeling like you didn’t get closure, because I know how shit that can be. That’s very familiar to me.” He tightened his vision a little then, listened to my words and understood what I was saying to him. He knew I’d never really gotten my closure with Harry, and that had affected every single step I’d taken since he’d left. That realisation gave him some answers he hadn’t been aware he was looking for. “Let’s just… put the effort in to make sure this doesn’t get awkward. That’s all I want.” He was calm, understanding. “I want our closure to be us walking away from this with a friendship that’s stronger than its ever been. I… I do still like you, Alf, so I think this is gunna be tough for me. But if I ever get distant, snap me out of it, yeah?” “I will.” I grinned. “We’ll figure it out. As long as I don’t lose you.” “You’re not getting rid of me.” His smile was genuine, nice to see. It was pleasant and reassuring to get the sense that we were both going to make the effort needed to sustain our friendship, or make it stronger as he wished. “Can I have a hug?” His question was so endearingly awkward that I practically leapt to my feet to grant his request. He was on his feet a second later, the two of us meeting in the middle to wrap our arms around one another, slowly swaying from side to side as we did. “I’m sorry.” He apologised one last time, even though I kept telling him he had nothing to be sorry for. “I’m sorry too.” The second I squeezed him tighter, there was a knock on my door. It's enormously unnerving when your gut is right. When you just know something, like a sixth sense. I could recall the morning my dad had gotten in touch with me to share the news that my mum had passed away and I knew. As soon as I saw he was calling, I knew. The night before I’d barely been able to sleep, something keeping me up, this sensation of dread that I hadn’t been able to place until the very moment I saw he was calling me, and once I had, it was my very first thought. There was no doubt in my mind that we’d lost her. Sometimes you just know things, beyond all explanation. And I knew it was Harry at my door and I knew that this time around, he wouldn’t be running away. I knew it before I’d comprehended that someone had knocked at all. I detached myself from Lincoln and slowly made my approach, my heart in my fucking throat as I did, near coming out of my mouth when I opened the door and saw him. Our eyes were on each other as soon as I had, completely locked in, as though we were making up for the evening before when we’d barely been able to look one another in the eye. And I saw the colour of his eyes once more, that timeless emerald that had conquered so many dreams of mine ever since he entered my life. I stopped breathing. I had to gaze right up to him, convincing myself he was taller than I remembered. He was sort of drawn in on himself, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket and shoulders hunched forward, chest tight, clearly rather anxious. And then he saw Lin. I watched his jaw wind, the veins in his neck protruding as he lifted his head and swelled his chest with a host of hot air, tensing his shoulders and taking a step back, like he wanted to walk away again. But he stopped himself quickly. He took a deep breath in through his nose and then leaned closer to me again. “Can I talk to you?” He requested quietly, voice deep, entrancing, his hair dishevelled and overgrown, falling over his eyes until he ran his fingers through it, pushing his locks back. “Please?” “Uh… I-” “Y’know what,” Lin picked up on the mood and began edging towards the door. “I’ll get out of your hair. I’ll catch up with you in a bit, yeah?” “Okay.” I was shaky, short of breath. He edged past the two of us, smiling rather uncomfortably when he was close, Harry refusing to look him in the eye. “Nice to see you, Harry.” “Yep.” He grumbled back to him. We remained quiet as Lin lumbered his way down the stairs and out the front door, my stomach twisting, very gradually coming to terms with the fact that I was going to be in Harry’s company in a completely private setting. It had been a long time. “Um… Come in.” I offered. “Thanks.” He stepped in. It was as though he was being cautious, like the ground may give way beneath his feet, crack and crumble and claim him as its own. I could practically see his memories of us running through his mind as he looked around my home, pictured us in the places we had been there, the moments we had shared, and all I could hope was that he had handled them with care, cherished them. I hoped they made him happy, that they didn’t hurt him. I closed the door, biting at my lip. He looked back to me, and spoke quickly, careful not to lose his nerve. “I wanted to apologise for last night.” He began. “For… leaving like that. I’ve been trying not to do stuff like that and not to turn away from situations and I… I dunno, I was just a bit overwhelmed. But I’m sorry. M’trying to be better.” “Oh. Okay.” I didn’t know what to say. Being around him made me want to cry. I couldn’t explain it, but just seeing him and being in such close contact with him put a literal weight on my chest and my stomach. Fuck, it was like every inch of my body was weighted and collapsing in on itself. I hated that he could pull that from me, that he still had such an effect on me. It was such an unfamiliar sensation, not knowing how to talk to him, how to act around him. It wasn’t how I knew us to be; even in our most difficult times, we hadn’t quite been that way, and what made it worse was the fact I could feel he was experiencing those same sensations. Though he had turned up to see me and he was trying, he was incredibly tense, his posture rejecting any presence, taciturn, tough. But I could see how desperate he was to try. “H-how are you?” He juddered as I wandered over to the kitchen, wanting to generate a substantial space between us, leaning against the counter and looking at him. “How’ve you been?” “Um… I’ve been okay.” The broken, beaten and quiet words escaped from between my trembling lips. “Yeah?” He wanted more from me. I understood that. “Yeah. I mean…. I dunno. It’s been a weird year, there’s been some changes, but yeah. I’m okay. I’m good. Up and down, but generally pretty good.” “Good.” He breathed a heavy sigh of relief, just knowing that. “M’glad to hear it. How’s your dad?” “He’s really good.” I managed a smile. “Did he move back here?” “For a while, yeah. But he’s moving again in a couple of weeks.” “Why?” “He found it too hard. Being here. Everything reminded him of my mum. He said being in Rosebury was too difficult. So he’s gunna leave.” “Yeah.” Harry dropped his head, looked at his feet. “I… I understand that. I know I’d be the same way.” He kept his head down for a while after saying that, clearly uncomfortable looking me in the eye, his breathing so unforgiving that I could see the rise of fall of his chest from across the room. Due to the note he had left me on his painting, I thought that if I was ever lucky enough to see him again, he would be a new man, strong and happy and settled. I didn’t expect to see him like that, weak and timid, more so than I’d known him to be before. The only times I’d ever seen him so drawn in on himself was during moments in which he was talking about his pain, his family, the things that had brought him sorrow – his greatest losses. That was the Harry I was seeing then. “Have you been okay?” It felt good to know I would finally have an answer to a question I had been asking for months on end. “Yeah. I’ve uh… I’ve actually been really good.” He lifted his head, smiled a little. “Good. I… I kinda feel better in myself, for knowing that.” I confessed. “I know, I’m the same! I… I think about you a lot.” He swallowed, easing his dry throat. “I-I’ve wanted to come back for a long time. To see you. I just… I don’t know.” I was glad to learn that I hadn’t been alone in feeling as though we were lacking the closure we needed. He had thought of me. He wanted to come back to Rosebury, to clear the air, to ask questions. He was finally doing it, and strangely enough, it left me not quite knowing what to say. “I’ve been seeing a therapist for the past year.” He announced urgently. “What? You… You’ve been having therapy?” “Mm.” He nodded. “It’s been really good for me. I was having sessions with a guy out in New York, and he’s been… really helpful.” “Harry… what the fuck! That’s amazing!” The concept was astounding to me, the thought of Harry speaking with someone that way, being open with someone, especially a therapist. It had taken months of closeness for him to feel comfortable with me, and even then, he’d struggled and ached. I was so happy that he’d finally gotten to the point where he felt he could talk to someone about his life, and from the way he was speaking, it had helped. It had been a positive experience. As much as I had loved being his confidant, all I could offer was a pair of ears, comforting words. I couldn’t offer any real help, which I realised after some time was exactly what he needed. I wouldn’t have been able to make any real difference. I was the emotional support when really, he needed more mental support. I was thankful he had gotten that. “I think that’s why I’m here.” He moved away from the wall beside the door, taking a couple of steps towards me. “I can… see things differently now, and I needed to talk to you. I… I wanted to apologise to you, Alf.” “Wh-what?” “I really fucked up, with us. The way I was. I don’t think I handled any of it well. I guess I was more like my dad than I’d ever realised, and I’ve always struggled to talk and…. I think I sort of used you as this emotional punching bag, in a way. That was fucked up, m’sorry.” “That’s okay.” I whispered. “I don’t… I don’t see it like that. I wanted you to talk and feel like… I was there for you. Because I was there for you. You needed that. I… I wanted to be that for you. Does that make sense?” He nodded reservedly, a tender smile gracing his lips. It seemed that he knew that was also true, and that it is good to talk with people you’re close to, people you trust, but he hadn’t done all of it in the best way. That wasn’t surprising to me, and it wasn’t something I was angry about; I was the first person he had been completely candid with, it would have been a miracle if he’d done all of that perfectly, especially with the depth and darkness of the times he’d endured in his life. “And… my therapist helped me to realise that I sort of started to see myself as this… really negative part of your life. It’s one of the reasons I left.” “Why? What do you mean?” “I blamed myself… for what Jack did to you.” He told me, blunt and honest. “My therapist thinks that’s something I do. He thinks that when I was little, I kinda saw it as my job to try and save my dad. And… well, I couldn’t and I blamed myself. And then all the bad shit that happened after we lost him, I felt like all that was my fault too. I adopt blame, even when I shouldn’t.” My mouth was ever so slightly agape as he spoke to me, told me what he had found out about himself, and he seemed so incredibly confident. He wasn’t ashamed or embarrassed, he wasn’t guilt ridden or introverted; he was telling me what he’d learnt like he was staggeringly glad to have this understanding of himself that he’d never had before. He’d never been emotionally available enough to know these things. I was too stunned to respond. “And I know that Jack was there that night trying to find me. The night he attacked you, he was in Rosebury looking for me, so it is my fault, in a way. That you came across each other. And it killed me, knowing that. It really… It fucking killed me.” “It wasn’t your fault.” “I’m trying to see it that way. I think I find it really hard because with Jack… he knows how to manipulate things. He’s known exactly how to get into my head ever since we were kids. It’s one of the reasons I never wanted to talk or open up, because he’d use it against me. Every time. When he found out I was with you…” “What did he do?” I had tears in my eyes, voice frail. “He told me you were gunna leave me. That you’d… break me.” He seemed bruised from the memory alone, taking a few seconds to calm himself down. “And he knew it’d get to me, because I always lost the people who meant the most to me.” I flinched when he said that, like he’d taken his fucking fist to my gut. “In times of struggle… I always lose someone. And nothing scared me more than losing you, Alfie. Nothing. And he knew it and he used it to-” He choked over his own words, looking back down to the ground and attempting to gather himself. I thought I was going to be sick. “And I think I pulled away before you could. I tried to own a situation that felt like it was fucking spiralling. I could feel myself losing you… Pushing you away. I got scared and I left and I tried to numb it.” He spoke from his chest, looked into the top corner of the room rather than at me, jawline sharpening. “I acted like it was nothing, like we were nothing. I thought that’d make it easier. I thought that’d make it feel like I wasn’t losing you… like some fucked up way of trying to gain control of it. If I lied, if I convinced myself, convinced you… I told myself that I wouldn’t feel that same loss, but I did. And I’m sorry for putting you through that and acting like I didn’t care, because I did. I just didn’t know how to handle it.” I had tears streaming down my face. I hadn’t been expecting it. How could I have ever predicted he would ever say those things to me, to wholly alter the narrative to which I believed we had ended. He was being incredibly upfront. He didn’t need to be, it clearly wasn’t an easy task for him, but he was doing it. I didn’t know whether that was for my own sake or for his. Maybe it was both. “I needed to tell you how sorry I am. For everything.” He told me as I wiped the tears from my eyes and noticed he had tears in his. “It was so messed up and I know… I know how much I hurt you, and I’m so fucking sorry, Alf. You didn’t deserve that.” We were a rarity, Harry and I, the relationship we had shared. As fucked up as it was, as beautiful and breath-taking, our burnout had never turned us to ash. We had never disintegrated. Our separation only charred us, searing our edges and leaving us so singed that over a year with no contact could go by and yet the two of us could still stand there in tears because of what we’d been through. We had been so involved and so invested and so passionate about one another that something that should have been forgotten was in fact a skin that we had not been able to shed. Some old flames will always burn. I rushed to wipe my tears away, like I wanted him to think I was stronger than that, that his actions were so distant they didn’t still break my heart, even with him giving me all this new information as to why he’d acted the way he did. “You really hurt me, Harry.” I somehow made my voice sound strong despite how weak my body felt. “I know. And I regret it every fucking day, Alf. If I could go back and change it, I would.” “But you can’t.” The damage was done. I had spent the last year wondering what it was, why he’d led me on that way, allowed me and encouraged me to fall in love with him only to tell me he couldn’t love me, that he’d only fucking been there as some way of humouring me. I couldn’t get back the months I had wasted aching over that, even with this new knowledge, the understanding of why he’d acted out the way he had. It wasn’t enough. He wiped tears away with the back of his wrist with quite some force, chest juddering, nostrils flaring, fist tightening, eyes on the ground. “No.” He seethed sadly. “No, I can’t.” Though it was comforting to know that it had all affected him, to know I hadn’t been entirely delusional throughout our time together, it didn’t make everything okay. I wished it did; I wished the closure I had been craving had conquered my core, but I still didn’t necessarily feel that way. There was still more for us to say. “I think I kinda wanted you to hate me.” He sniffled. “Like… if I acted like a prick, you’d be glad I was gone anyway. I thought it would make it easier for you.” “It didn’t.” I snarled. “I know. M’sorry. I was… I was such a fucking mess after Jack broke into mine, I… I dunno!” He gasped. “I wasn’t in the right position to give you what you needed. What you deserve. I wish there was a way that it all could’ve unfolded without you getting hurt in the process, but my head was so fucked and… I just wanted to explain all of this to you. I know it doesn’t change anything, but you deserve to know, Alfie. I had to tell you all this… for both of us.” I nodded, bit my lip and folded my arms, watching him wipe away his tears and try to stop more from falling. He was right. We had both needed that. “Your therapist helped you realise all this?” “Mm.” “Is that why you sent me that painting? Some… way of apologising?” My body language was guarded, a fragile shield I was using to protect myself from him. “This is my way of apologising.” He told me. “By… fucking stepping up and seeing you and actually apologising.” “Okay. So… So why did you send me the painting?” “Because…” He took a few moments, considered his answer. “Because I feel like you’re its rightful owner. You… are the reason I’m here. The reason I can… take responsibility for my actions. Understand my actions. I was in a really bad place for a really long time and then I met you and… You made everything better. You made me better. You made my whole fucking life better, and I feel like you got me to this point.” “Your therapist did that.” “For fuck sake, I wouldn’t have even been to therapy if it wasn’t for you, Alfie!” He raised his voice to argue his point, took another step closer. “I fucking paid a therapist to help me sort the bullshit in my head out, but you did it because you fucking cared about me. I’d never had that before! You made me feel like it was okay to talk, okay to… feel how I was feeling. You did… more for me than any fucking therapist could. You are the reason I felt like I could let go of all that bad stuff and move on. That’s why the painting is yours, Alfie. That’s why I sent it to you.” He had rendered me speechless. I was shaking, the two of us staring at each other in silence. He wasn’t going to stand there and allow me to dismiss the meaning behind him gifting that painting to me. He had to make his point clear, show me just how important my role had been in his healing. He was practically repulsed by the idea of me not knowing exactly what I’d meant to him. I backed down, softened. “Sorry.” I whispered, and he just shook his head, sighed. “I… I do appreciate it. It’s… It’s so beautiful. I-I cried when I saw it.” “You did?” “It’s stunning, Harry. Really, it’s… special. Not that I know much about that kinda thing, but… it moved me. It’s incredible.” He smiled shyly. “I’m not really sure what I should do with it though. I don’t think it’d even fit in here.” “Do whatever you want with it.” He shrugged. “Sell it. Burn it. Whatever you wanna do with it. It’s yours.” “M’not gunna do that.” I chuckled breathily. “Could turn the wine shop into a gallery. It could be my prize piece.” An inkling of a standard, easy conversation, and we both calmed considerably. Fuck, I’d missed him. I’d missed him so, so much. “Well… like I said,” He smiled. “Whatever you wanna do.” “I’ll look after it, I promise.” “Thanks.” I denied the temptation I felt to finally get closer to him. I was certainly more comfortable then than I had been before, but distance still felt good. As did talking to him. “So… are you still in New York?” I asked. “No. I’ve been in London for a while but… m’gunna be here for a bit.” “In Rosebury?” “Yeah. In my house. M’gunna ring my mum soon. I’m tackling some big stuff today.” He grinned to cover his discomfort. “Um… I’m gunna tell her about the house and talk through some stuff. Try and get her to move here. M’gunna do what I promised myself I would.” “That… That’s amazing. I’m really happy for you.” He got nervous then, fidgeting, cracking his neck before he spoke. I was utterly shocked by his suggestion. “So I’m gunna be around, for the next few days. Or maybe weeks, depending on how it all turns out. Do you… Do you wanna spend some time together?” I could once again feel tears building, burning at my chest and nose and eyes and head, begging me to cry. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I whispered unnervingly. “But-” “No. C’mon, Harry.” I sniggered somewhat. “We’re not really the type that can be just friends, are we?” It wasn’t the time to be naive. I would have loved to be around him, soak him in for as long as I could, but it would have only hurt me in the end. I couldn’t be around him in a platonic way, it would never work, not after everything. The emotions we had both tied to our affiliation and its demise were far too strong for that to ever work in our favour. He cleared his throat and nodded, taking a step back. “I should go.” He suddenly said, squeezing his temples between his thumb and fingers before lifting that same hand and running his fingers through his hair once again. “Um… Just one last thing. I wanted to thank you, for getting my mums number and giving it to me. You didn’t have to do that… but you did. That means a lot to me.” “You’re welcome.” “And I fired Liam. My agent.” “You did?” I wheezed. “As soon as I got back last night. I rang him and he admitted it and… that’s done. Gunna have someone else handle my stuff going forward.” “Good. Fuck that guy.” “Yeah.” He chortled. “But thank you for telling me. I’ve been trying to straighten things out, and you’ve done some of the work for me. So… thanks. For always looking out for me. I don’t deserve it.” “I think you do.” I murmured. He looked woozy for a few seconds, gripping his eyes shut and then straightening his body out. “Okay… M’gunna… Yeah, m’gunna leave.” “Okay.” “Thank you for everything.” “Thank you for… coming here. I’ve been… desperate for some closure.” I admitted. “I sort of feel like I’ve got that now.” Something happened then that I couldn’t describe, this feeling, an enticing lure that reminded me that there were ties between my body and his; ropes that were torn and withered but still strong enough to anchor and drag me underwater with no power to fight against them. I ran to him. I literally ran to close the gap between us and I threw myself against his body, because he had been waiting for me. His arms opened wide the very second I began to diminish the gap between us to throw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck as his went around my waist, holding me that forcefully I was elevated off the ground. And we just held one another for a while. His face nestled softly into my neck as my fingers found his hair, gripping ever so gently. Physical contact with him was much more prodigious and devastating than I’d bargained for, but I didn’t want to let go. I just wanted to hold him and feel him and be eclipsed by his arms; his arms that felt like a bandage, a way of keeping us from falling apart, stitching us together so we didn’t crumble right there and collapse completely. My feet met the ground again, but we didn’t let go of each other. I remained on my tiptoes so that I could reach him comfortably, seconds passing by like minutes. It had been so long since I had last touched him, been touched by him. I could have locked myself in that moment for hours and not tired of it. That was exactly why I knew I needed to pull away from him. I planted my feet firmly on the ground, trying to quietly encourage him to let go, but he seemed reluctant. Even when he started to loosen his grip, he didn’t fully succeed, laying his hands on my waist and pressing his forehead against the side of my head, his lips just an inch from my ear. My stomach twisted into a knot that was impossibly tight. He breathed me in, inhaling through his nose, the tips of his fingers pressing firmer against me. “I love you, Fee-Fee.” His words caused my body to freeze. And for once it wasn’t due to his beautiful low tone, his striking softness, or him using the nickname he had for me. It was the other part. I gripped my eyes shut, furrowed my brows. “Wh-what?” I baffled, taking a step back which forced him to let go. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” When he didn’t answer, I opened my eyes. I think I was expecting to see him look shocked, like it had poured out of him without thought or purpose. But he looked like his only reason for coming to see me was to say those exact words. “I love you, Alfie. I’m in love with you.” He said again. For so long, I had wanted to hear him say that. I hadn’t even been able to imagine what it might sound like, what it might feel like. But I finally had my answer. What I felt was anger. “Are you fucking kidding, Harry?” “Fee-” He tried to approach me again. “You think you can just… turn up here after over a year and tell me you love me?” I stepped back. “You don’t love me.” “I do. I always have.” “You don’t! You don’t love me. You can’t… You can’t just do this.” “But I-” “All you’re doing is fucking with my head again! What do you expect from me? How fucking dare you?” I could barely believe the rage I felt with him for doing that to me, for putting me through more confusion than he already had. Not one other person in my life had meddled with my emotions in the way he had, and the very moment I felt like I might be okay to move on from him and find even a minor moment of peace, he ruined it. “I need you to leave.” I headed towards the door. “What? No, Alf, I don’t wanna leave.” “That’s not your decision! I’m so fucking angry. The only reason you’re saying this is because you think I’m with someone else.” “Wait, I think?” His eyes were wide, chasing me, astonished. “What do you mean, I think? Are you not with Lin?” “Get out.” I opened the door. “NO! Fuck that, I’m not gunna leave, I’m gunna fight for you!” He took the door edge from my hand and slammed it back shut. “I don’t care if you’re with him or not, I want you! I know we’re supposed to be together. I know I’m not ever gunna feel like this about anyone else. I’m not giving up on us again!” “Please go.” I started to sob, conflicted and confused. “It’s just me and you, Fee.” His hand reached for my cheek, clutching as he edged his face closer to mine. “Just me and you, please.” “There is no me and you, Harry! You left!” I knocked his touch away. “You broke my heart and you moved away and you let me believe for all this time that you didn’t care!” “But-” “All you’d do is hurt me again, I know it!” “I won’t. Please believe me. I wanna make you feel safe. I’m gunna do everything I can to make you feel safe. You just have to let me try!” I pressed my back against the wall beside the door and the balls of my palms into the sockets of my eyes, my insides shattering. I never imagined myself to react that way. I’d thought that if such declarations ever came from him that I’d all but fall at his knees, kiss him and hold him and tell him I loved him too. But I didn’t feel the desire to be that way with him. I didn’t feel that love. It was just unadulterated fury and complete disappointment. “Please, I… I’m so in love with you.” He kept coming close to me, hoping to deteriorate my defences. “It’s too late, Harry. You’re too late.” “Fuck, please don’t say that.” He blubbered, breaking, pressing his forehead against mine and placing his hands against my jaw. “Please, Fee-Fee. Please don’t tell me I did too much damage, this is killing me. I can’t lose you.” “You lost me when you left.” I was blunt, dropping my hands from me eyes so I could look at him, harsh enough that he stepped away from me, detaching himself and looking to the door, still crying. “This doesn’t change what you did, whether you’ve got an explanation or not. I’m sorry you felt that way, Harry, I am… but it doesn’t reverse it. You think I’m gunna wait over a year without hearing anything from you, for you to just send me a painting and say all this and then what? You think I could just… trust you again? Pick things up like nothing happened? I can’t do that!” There was no guarantee he wouldn’t go through that same turmoil again. If Jack came back into his life. If things didn’t work out with his mother. I didn’t want to be the person who felt the brunt of the troubles he experienced in his life. I didn’t want to be burdened with the brutal repercussions that accompanied whatever way he handled times of strain. It was too late. He didn’t seem to have the strength to speak or look at me. “I really think you should leave.” I whispered, and he just about nodded, but didn’t move. “I’m sorry, but… I can’t. I want you to leave.” I wondered what he’d been expecting me to say. He couldn’t have possibly come to me predicting he would receive the perfect response. Whatever he’d been expecting, he was clearly crushed by what he’d received. Shaking, I went to the door again, grabbing the handle and opening it for him. “Please.” I pleaded one last time. “Okay. I’m going, I’m sorry. I just… I wanted you to know how I feel. And that’s how I feel. Now you know, that’s all I can do. I’m sorry.” In a way, I wished he hadn’t told me at all. This was beyond him explaining himself and apologising for his old actions, this was introducing brand new complications and cutting fresh wounds to partner with the ones that had only just begun to heal. Somehow, it felt cruel of him to put that on me. But it would have been just as cruel of him to keep it to himself, for him to torment himself. He should have been able to tell me if that was how he felt, but I truly hadn’t wanted to hear it. The situation was barbaric and merciless. Harry released another ghastly sob as he took his first step, his skin red and likely burning as he finally did as I’d asked and left, rushing down the stairs and slamming the front door shut behind himself. I was numb, lifeless, staring forward with my stomach sinking and sinking and sinking like a sun disappearing over the horizon, and that was how I saw my relationship with Harry in those moments; a setting sun in blood red skies, plunging gradually into the rolling hills that surrounded the village where we had once fallen in love. In its slow death, the sun births shadows. And I knew it would only be so long until I was plummeted into darkness.

[marksburyscripts]

Season 1, Episode 5-- Heartwrench

Google Doc

[Henry’s hospital room. Day. There are no longer the sounds of life support.]

VICTOR

...You’re sure it’s okay?

HENRY

Yeah, it’s fine. Whatever helps. Record away.

VICTOR

All right. Thanks.

HENRY

...You don’t have to be nervous, you know.

VICTOR

I’m not.

HENRY

Then why are you doing that?

VICTOR

Doing what?

HENRY

You’re clenching and releasing your hand, and you’re rocking a bit in your chair. Both of which you do when you’re nervous. Seriously, how long have I known you? [Beat.] No, you don’t have to stop.

VICTOR

Oh thank God. [Beat.] ...How’re you feeling?

HENRY

Like I’ve been in a coma for the better part of a year. But lucid, so that’s an improvement, I guess.

VICTOR

Right. Right, yeah.

HENRY

...You know we’ve gotta talk about this, right?

VICTOR

Henry, shouldn’t we wait until you’re--

HENRY

No. We’re doing it now. While you’re recording. ...Victor, please tell me that I’m remembering wrong. Please tell me that I’ve just got some real bad brain damage and it’s fucking with me. That I didn’t walk in on some… first attempt at reanimating a fucking corpse.

VICTOR

[Mumbled] Second.

HENRY

Excuse me?

VICTOR

It was a second attempt, I’d done it before.

HENRY

Jesus Christ.

VICTOR

Also it’s not technically reanimation. If it had been a single body, sure, but I used materials from several donors--

HENRY

What the hell is wrong with you? In what fantasy could you ever see that turning out well? That’s the kind of shit that horror movies are made from!

VICTOR

I’m sorry, I--

HENRY

You were stupid! You were stupid, and reckless, and you didn’t think about the consequences!

VICTOR

I know, I just--

HENRY

Oh my God, that’s what the fire was about, wasn’t it? That had something to do with it. You freaked out, and you tried to burn the evidence. So what, you figured you’d risk more lives then, too? What if there had been people in there, Victor, what then?! Is that what attacked me? And did-- Did Justine really kill your brother? Or was that part of it, too? You have people’s lives on your conscience, all because you wanted to fuck around and find out if you could--

VICTOR

I just wanted my mom back, okay?! I know I fucked up. Believe me, I don’t need any more reminders. But I-- I had my reasons, it wasn’t just some ego trip.

HENRY

[Calmer now] ...Does Elliot know?

VICTOR

I’m sure he figured it out, yeah.

HENRY

What’s that supposed to mean?

VICTOR

Oh. Oh God, they didn’t tell you.

HENRY

Tell me what?

VICTOR

...Henry, Elliot’s dead.

HENRY

Oh God. God, I…. I’m so sorry, I…. How’s your dad taking it?

VICTOR

Well, considering he died two days later, I’d say not very well.

HENRY

What?

VICTOR

[Getting more and more distraught] He’s dead too, Henry. Him, Elliot, my mother, Billy, Justine. Everyone is dead, and I have been so alone and so scared, and I have no idea what I am supposed to do.

HENRY

...Hey. C’mere. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m just stressed, I shouldn’t have said all that shit.

VICTOR

You have every right to.

HENRY

No, being a dick won’t fix anything. Plus, you’ve obviously been through hell. Your glasses look like you were just at a 4Chan meetup.

VICTOR

[Laughs] I don’t know what that means.

HENRY

It means you need to get some damn lens cleaner, how the hell can you see out of those thing?

VICTOR

Just used to it, I suppose.

HENRY

You hear from Evelynn at all?

VICTOR

Take a guess.

HENRY

That’ll be a no. You try talking to her?

VICTOR

Of course not.

HENRY

...So you’re upset that you’ve been alone, yet you haven’t even tried to get in contact with your sister?

VICTOR

Look, I don’t need a lecture right now, okay? I get enough of those from Dr Walton.

HENRY

Wait, you’re seeing Dr Walton? Like, Robert Walton? Kinda short, always has a bow tie?

VICTOR

Yeah…? Do you know him, or…?

HENRY

Sort of, he was a guest speaker for my Abnormal Psych class during undergrad. He seems good.

VICTOR

Yeah, I suppose.

HENRY

How much you tell him?

VICTOR

I’m not sure I could tell him what happened even if I wanted to.

HENRY

...What happens when you try?

VICTOR

Don’t. Don’t do that.

HENRY

Do what?

VICTOR

That. You’re trying to… diagnose me.

HENRY

No, you’re my friend and I don’t have a license to practice. That’s illegal. I’m… offering informed advice.

VICTOR

Yeah, well, I’ll save you the trouble. Clinical depression, post traumatic stress disorder, and paranoid personality disorder. Though that last one is debatable. I might be missing some. Come back when you finish your Ph.D, Clerval.

HENRY

[Softly] Jesus…. [Trying to lighten the mood now] Doing it then it would be even more illegal. Then we’ll have two criminals here. [Beat.] Sorry. That wasn’t as funny as I expected it to be.

VICTOR

No. No, it’s fine. You’re not wrong. [Laughs] Should’ve seen what it was like trying to find a job with an arson charge. I’m lucky I managed to get the one I have.

HENRY

Yeah? What job’s that?

VICTOR

I’m over at Harris’ down on Main Street.

HENRY

Holy shit. The great Victor Frankenstein, the mad genius, the Prometheus of the 21st century, is selling discount hardware.

VICTOR

Well, I don’t actually sell anything most of the time. I’m customer service. Mostly returns, taking phone calls, fun stuff like that.

HENRY

You’re fucking with me. You hate talking on the phone.

VICTOR

And I hate my job. But if they’re willing to give a felon minimum wage, who am I to argue?

HENRY

Hey man, whatever works. I do have one more question, though. 

VICTOR

Okay?

HENRY

Is that the hoodie I lent you that day?

VICTOR 

Oh, um, right, yeah. I-- I was going to give it back, but then you-- You know, and then I was just so distracted, between worrying about you and the police hounding me--

HENRY

Hold on, police?

VICTOR

Oh. Right. They, um… They thought that I did it for a while. Elliot, too.

HENRY

Oh God. 

VICTOR

I mean, I can't blame them. I've got a record, and that's a lot of people close to me who--

[The door opens. Both men are silent for a moment.]

HENRY

Hello…?

VICTOR

Sorry. That’s probably me.

HENRY

What?

VICTOR

Things have been… weird. It’s a long story.

HENRY

You built a person out of corpses, and I’m bedridden for who knows how long. I’ve got all the time in the world for the details.

VICTOR

...Ever since I…. Ever since the fire, things have been… happening around me. I know how this is going to sound, but you need to believe me, okay? Ever since I… made it… it’s like…. I don’t know. It doesn’t even really make sense, I-- The two concepts aren’t even remotely similar, I--

HENRY

Hey. Hey, breathe for me, okay? 

VICTOR

Okay. Okay, sorry. ...That was the first night that I experienced something that I was unable to explain. Granted, I wasn’t exactly in the best mental state at the time, so for a while, I figured that it must have been a hallucination. I’ll be honest, sometimes I’m still able to convince myself that it was. But I know it’s not. 

VICTOR (Cont.)

Sorry. Sorry, let me back up. [Sighs] The… first signs of life came at 1:15 AM. The rise and fall of the chest, the flicker of movement behind the eyelids. Whether or not there was cognitive function had yet to be seen, but… I suppose you know how that turned out. It was at 1:16 that everything started to go downhill. When I realized what I’d done, when-- when the possible consequences hit me all at once. The wrongness of the situation, I…. I almost didn’t hear it. Or-- No. No, I didn’t hear it so much as I felt it. I felt a voice throughout my body, in every single nerve, clawing its way into my subconscious. I-- I couldn’t make out what it was saying, but… I got the sickening feeling that it was proud of me. Proud of what I’d managed to achieve. Whether or not anything happened for the couple months that I was in the hospital afterwards, I can’t really say. I was in shock, I couldn’t tell you what was real and what was hallucination. Honestly, you’d probably be better at figuring out if anything odd was happening during that time, you were there. But what I can tell you is that it never stopped. Sometimes the TV would turn on in the middle of the night blasting static, a couple times I woke up in the morning to find my glasses outside on the windowsill. Then there are the more… sinister ones. Beings that aren’t quite human, there one moment, gone the next. Or sinking, terrifying senses of dread that lead up to disaster.

HENRY

So… you’re seeing ghosts?

VICTOR

No, obviously not ghosts, ghosts don’t exist. Jeeze, you sound like Elliot. [He laughs, but it fades]  ...Not ghosts. But… something. Something that found me that night and hasn’t left me alone since. It’s all connected, I know it is. I just need to analyze everything. You know me, I work with data and research. If I can get the evidence, I can work out what’s going on. I even ended up setting cameras up in my house, but… they always freeze up whenever something happens. Typical. Either that or-- Or I don’t even have it happen myself, sometimes it’s other people who--

HENRY

Wait. Other people?

VICTOR

Yes. But it’s not like I want it to happen, it just does. I usually don’t even know them. I just… hear about them on the news, or sometimes they tell me themselves if I happen to run into them.

HENRY

...And strangers just tell you about all the creepy shit that happens to them?

VICTOR

...Sometimes, yeah.

HENRY

...You know what, I’m not going to even pretend to be surprised.

VICTOR

Honestly, that’s how I deal with it. So yeah. There you go. Spooky.

HENRY

...Do people get hurt because of it? [Victor doesn’t answer] Shit…. Well then. That settles it. I guess we’ve got work to do.

VICTOR

What?

HENRY

I said, we’ve got work to do. Maybe you’re content wallowing in self-pity while creepy shit radiates off of you, but I sure as hell won’t sit on my ass as it happens.

VICTOR

Henry--

HENRY

I know what you’re doing. You’re treating it like some punishment. Like you deserve it. Well, I’m here to tell you that you don’t. And neither does anyone else. You fucked up, yeah. And I’m not going to lie, it’s going to take some time for us to get back to the way we were. But it’s like you said. You had your reasons. You didn’t mean for it all to go to hell. And you didn’t kill them. So you and me are going to buck up and--

[He is cut off by a sound of pain as he moves]

VICTOR

Hey, whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. We'll figure it out. We have time to plan, take action, whatever we need to do. But right now, what you need to do is rest. I'll wash the hoodie and bring it back first thing tomorrow. 

HENRY

Nah, you keep it. It suits you, I can always get another. Plus, who the hell knows where you've been the past year? 

VICTOR 

[He laughs. This time it feels genuine] Asshole.

NEXT EPISODE➝

[alexeiadrae]

Nostalgia Trip: My Story of Watching The Slayers, Day 27

Day 27:  How did your feelings about Xellos evolve through the series?

Well, brace yourself for some unpopular opinions, I actually found him incredibly annoying. I did not like him. I was surprised when I realized how popular he was because my friends and I found him to be very aggravating. He was manipulative and deliberately tried to keep the group off balance and those are traits I am not drawn to. I honestly can’t remember if it mellowed a bit as the series progressed or not, the brass rackets episode where he switches Lina’s racket for a fake one leads me to think I continued to find him obnoxious though.

I didn’t see the Mazoku reveal coming. One thing that struck me when rewatching the series is that what humans can and can’t do is treated inconsistently in the anime. Xellos being able to teleport in his intro during NEXT was supposed to be a clue, but Vrumagan appears to be able to teleport in Prime, and I do remember being baffled that the characters thought it was weird that Xellos could teleport as a result. 

That said, I don’t remember being surprised when it was revealed. This is when the context of Xellos’s behavior started to make sense to me. And the more I thought of it, and the more I learned about what Mazoku are in the Slayersverse, the more it made sense for Xellos to be annoying, deceitful and manipulative (another note, translating Mazoku to monster was rather misleading, I wish they’d done better there).

Likely an unpopular opinion, but I enjoy Xellos as a bad guy and one of those people who you may make a temporary alliance with, but you have to be on guard for when he will stab you in the back type thing. In my mind you can never forget that Xellos is a Mazoku who sees humans as his playthings and has goals that are ultimately at ends for humanity.

This is solidified in the novels where his manipulative tactics take several steps up and he does things like burn down a kingdom and blames it on Gaav’s minions to manipulate Lina.

So it makes sense that he would be annoying. Which is where I will add, at first I hated David Moo as Xellos’s English voice actor because his voice is aggravating. But the more I watched, the more it seemed right that Xellos, an aggravating character, should have an aggravating voice and I’ve come to appreciate David Moo’s performance. Adding this here because he was bullied hard when Slayers was at the height of its popularity, and while I may critique a voice actor, I will not condone bullying one. I was saddened that he did not come back for Evo and Revo, but I also couldn’t blame him.

Basically I think Xellos is a good villain. His characterization doesn’t work for me as a good guy or a quasi-good guy. It makes sense to me in the context of being a villain. And while I appreciate a well constructed villain, they also aren’t really the big draw for me. So Xellos went from being an extremely aggravating character to one I appreciate, but it would be a stretch to say I like him that much.

Um, I’m going to hide now.

1.       How did you start watching The Slayers?

2.       How easy was it for you to collect the series to watch it?

3.       What stage of your life were you in when you watched The Slayers?

4.      Have you met anyone involved in any way with the creation of the show? Hajime Kanzaka, a voice actor be they Japanese, American, Spanish, Elvin, etc? A janitor who worked in the animation studio? What were they like?

5.      Do you have a precious collectible from the show? What is it, and how did you get it?

6.      What inside jokes do you have about The Slayers with friends/family you watched it with?

7.       What lengths did you go to to get access to Slayers VHS/DVSs/fansubs, etc?

8.        This one favors our English speaking fans, but it’s too great a story in the history of watching Slayers to leave out. Do you remember the Great Slayers Disc Exchange (I think that’s what it was called)? Do you have a story involving your participation in it? And are you still mad at Software Sculptors? If English isn’t your first language, what stories do you have about the studios bungling the release of Slayers DVDs in your primary language?

9.        What is your memory of experiencing your favorite funny moment in The Slayers?

10.       What is your memory of experiencing your favorite moment of your favorite Slayers character?

11.       What moment in The Slayers surprised you the most?

12.      When did The Slayers exceed your expectations?

13.      When did The Slayers disappoint you?

14.      What do you remember about experiencing the moment when Phibrizzo kidnapped Gourry?

15.       What was your memory of experiencing your favorite moment of your favorite Slayers ship?

16.       What is your memory of watching your favorite dramatic Slayers moment?

17.       What is your favorite memory of watching The Slayers?

18.       What was your strangest memory of something that happened when you were watching The Slayers?

19.       Which character dying at the hands of Phibrizzo affected you the most?

20.       What was your reaction to the end of Slayers NEXT?

21.       What was your experience with tracking down the novels?

22.       When did you fall in love with Lina? Or if you didn’t fall in love with her, how did your feelings about her evolve through the series?

23.      How did your feelings about Gourry evolve through the series?

24.      How did your feelings about Zelgadis evolve through the series?

25.     How did your feelings about Amelia evolve through the series?

26.     How did your feelings about Sylphiel evolve through the series?

27.     How did your feelings about Xellos evolve through the series?

28.     What moments from the show do you use to motivate you?

29.     What impact has the show had on your life?

30.      Why do you believe this show has had such a lasting impact in people’s hearts?

[7-wonders]

As Above, So Below Ch. 18

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 3976

A/N: You know the drill! If you enjoyed this, I would love if you left a comment or an ask. Feedback is always appreciated, like and reblog if you liked reading this. Thanks so much for supporting my little passion project!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6| Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18: And the Birds Sing

The fire in Michael’s room is already roaring by the time he returns with you tucked safely in his arms, a sure sign that everyone in the Underworld knows about what had happened on that frozen lake of the damned. He gently sets you on the chest at the foot of his bed, darting back and forth as he attempts to find the needed supplies. Shivers wrack through you, your body already missing the heat that Michael provides you. A pile of blankets sits waiting on top of the bed, and Michael finally returns from his office with a knife.

“Gonna put me out of my misery?” You struggle to say the joke, teeth chattering hard enough to make you mildly concerned that one will crack. Michael smiles thinly, a sign that he’s trying not to make his anxiety visible.

“No, but I do need to get you out of your wet clothes, and there’s too many layers to worry about taking them off one at a time.” You nod, dipping your head slightly to allow Michael to remove your crown from your wet strands of hair.

“Why is it that I always seem to get into trouble when I’m wearing a beautiful dress?” You ponder, lamenting the loss of the masterpiece of a dress that Michael is carefully slicing off of your body. 

“I’d much rather we lose the dress than lose you,” Michel mutters, tongue poking out in concentration as he works the blade through your corset. “Stand up, please.”

It takes a little effort, your legs wobbling and Michael having to support you while he also removes your now-ruined dress from your body. You’re left standing in just your undergarments, Michael holding your hands so that you can step out of them. Despite the freezing cold that has replaced the blood running through your veins, you still feel your cheeks heating up at being naked in front of Michael. It’s not like he’s never seen you naked before, but it’s still something that’s very intimate to you. Michael, however, shows no sign of being phased by your lack of clothes. He barely even glances at your body, instead walking you over to sit on the bed and starting to wrap you up in blankets. He’s dedicated in completing the task, using each and every blanket until only your face is poking through the nest that now surrounds you. 

“Why can’t I just take a bath or something? I’m still wet,” you point out, nose wrinkling as your hair starts to leak through onto the blankets.

“If I warm you up too fast, it could be dangerous to your health.”

“And here I thought you wouldn’t know much about mortal ailments.”

“When you’ve lived for as long as I have, you tend to pick up a few things.” You raise an eyebrow when Michael starts to strip, ending up in the same state as you.

“Um, can I ask why you’re also taking your clothes off?” You’re determined to keep your eyes on his face and not on his sculpted body.

“Body heat is also a good way to warm someone up when they’re getting hypothermic.”

Michael slides under the covers next to you, pulling your blanket-wrapped self up against him. Even under the mountain of blankets, his warmth still radiates through to you. He hums quietly, your head feeling like it’s being rifled through in what you assume is Michael absentmindedly listening to your thoughts. You want to scold him, but you know that he likely doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. It’s a bad habit, he’s explained to you before, and he always feels really bad whenever he finally catches on that the thoughts are not his.

“I always thought you would be really cold,” you say quietly, eyes fluttering as you stare at the fire. “Imagine my surprise when I learned you’re actually a space heater.”

“Why did you assume that I would be cold?”

“The whole ‘God of the Dead’ thing. Dead people are pretty cold, so I thought you’d be the same way,” you speak through a yawn, the silence of the room and Michael’s steady breathing starting to lull you to sleep.

“Isn’t there a saying? ‘The warmer you are, the closer to Hell you are,’ or something like that?” You’re not looking at him, but you can still see the cheeky smirk he must have on his face.

“It’s about being short, not being warm.” Michael revels in your response, gently shaking you when he can sense that you’re about to fall asleep. “What the hell, Michael?”

He ignores the opportunity to make a joke. “I don’t want you to sleep until I know that your temperature is back where it’s supposed to be.”

“Damn you and your common sense.”

Without your knowledge, Michael summons a member of the staff. Cassius, the demon who had agreed to sacrifice his very existence for the sake of defeating Satan, appears. Cassius looks at Michael, as if to make sure it’s okay for him to use his powers. When Michael nods, the demon takes a very cautious glance at Michael’s thoughts to determine what he needs without either of them alerting you of his presence. The smaller man with horns and fangs disappears before returning with a small tray of what Michael had requested. Michael nods, both to thank and dismiss his loyal subject; black eyes dart to you before he transmutes out of the room. 

“Are you feeling up to drinking some tea, darling mine? I would think its warmth would help to warm you up.”

“How did…” you turn your head, looking over at the tray that just seems to have magically appeared in the room. “You and your damn demon posse.”

“Here, drink.” Michael brings the steaming cup to your lips, waiting patiently until you begrudgingly start to drink it.

“You know, I can hold it myself.”

“(Y/N),” Michael says in exasperation, “I almost lost you today, for the second time. Please, just this once, let me take care of you.” 

His words have you stunned into silence, and you finally nod in agreement. “Okay,” you say quietly, at a loss for words at how much this has affected him.

“I apologize for snapping at you, but you must understand how I felt when I saw the ice starting to break under your feet. Watching you fall into the lake, and being rendered helpless to rescue you, was the epitome of my worst nightmare. I have never felt fear quite like I did when I was attempting to spot you through the ice. I thought that--that you would be swept away, and lost forever. I had just gotten you back, and then it seemed like I was going to lose you all over again.”

“You were the only thing I could think of when I realized that I wouldn’t be able to find the surface,” you admit. “Out of all of the possible thoughts that could be my last, I was worried about how you were going to fare when I died.”

“I would have been a complete and utter mess.” When Michael’s satisfied with the amount of tea that you’ve drank, he sets the cup down and picks up a thermometer. “How does this thing work?”

You take it from him, swiftly uncapping it and positioning it under your tongue. The cool metal fills you with nostalgia, reminding you of trips to the nurse’s office throughout your years in school. Whether you were sick or not, that thermometer would always be a guarantee for any need, even one as simple as obtaining a painkiller. Michael’s silent while you wait for the device to beep, and you idly play with the rings that still decorate his long fingers. A shrill beep pierces the air, and Michael stares at the thermometer like it’s a foreign object.

“What’s a normal body temperature for a human?” Stifling a giggle, you read the numbers on the LED screen before putting it back on the tray it appeared on. 

“Ninety eight point six-ish?”

“So is it bad that yours is ninety three?”

“Not good, but not bad. It means I’m recovering. Considering you had to revive me, it could be a lot worse.” Michael groans, pulling you closer into his arms as if to remind himself that his resuscitation efforts actually worked.

“Please don’t remind me about that.” The cheeky smile on your face falls when you hear his strangled voice. Turning your head in his grasp, you see that his eyes are shut tightly while he attempts to prevent any tears from escaping.

“Hey,” your voice grows soft as you disentangle one of your hands from the nest of blankets, using it to stroke Michael’s cheek, “stop thinking about it. I’m right here, in front of you. I’m warm...er than I was, and I’m alive and recovering and safe in your arms.”

“But you weren’t...I saw you dead…” he mutters, lost in the events that preceded your current situation.

“Michael,” you wait for him to look at you before speaking. “Look at me. What happened was not your fault.”

“It was all my fault, (Y/N). I’m the reason there’s a prophecy in the first place, and the reason why you’re stuck here. You almost died--no, you did die, all because I put you in the middle of my battle with my father.”

“Stop talking like that, or else I’ll get Madison to hold me,” you threaten sternly. “Every action has been my choice. I chose to complete the Seven Wonders and come back here, I chose to tell you that I love you, I chose to be a part of the plan that I came up with. Do not, for a single second, blame yourself for anything. I am an adult who is capable of making my own choices, which I did.”

Michael listens silently, mulling over your words as he kisses the top of your head. “I’ve never been more proud of anyone than I was of you today.”

“Lying to make me feel better.”

“No!” Michael insists, moving the blanket away from your face so he can actually see your facial features. “Not only did you handle the burden of a coronation, however fake it may have been, with dignity and grace, but you also managed to be a total...what’s the word?” He trails off, brows furrowing as he attempts to figure out what he wants to say.

“Badass?” You fill in with the only word that pops to mind. 

“Yes! I don’t really know what it means, but you say it a lot and it seems to describe how you were when distracting my father.” His cheeks color a tantalizing shade of red, and you can’t help the urge to lean over and plant featherlight kisses on them. 

“While I appreciate that, Michael, I highly doubt it was anything too extraordinary.”

“You undervalue yourself far too often, my love. If I ever get lucky enough for you to accept my offer, you will most certainly be the best queen the Underworld could ever have. You’re kind, and brilliant, and selfless in ways that I could never be.”

Michael, sensing your hesitation at how best to respond, places the back of his hand on your forehead.

“You seem to be warming up. Are you still feeling up for a bath?”

“A bath sounds nice.” Michael stands, and you can’t help but to admire the firmness of his ass before your eyes fly up to his face in embarrassment. 

“I’ll be only a moment,” he promises. When the bathroom door closes behind him, the wistful smile on your face remains just as prevalent.

/////////////////////////////

“You’re doing much better than you were, I presume?” The garden (your garden, you suppose) that you’re sitting in is bathed in warm sunlight, courtesy of Michael giving in to your pleas to have just a couple hours of sunlight at the castle every once in a while. You tap your foot against the ground nervously, being gentle not to nudge a sleeping Cerberus and smiling politely as you sit across a small table from the Queen of the Gods herself. Violet’s dressed in what you believe is her version of casual; a beige dress that falls to her knees, accompanied by a large red cardigan. 

When you woke in the morning after falling asleep in Michael’s arms, hair still wet from the warm bath, an ornately sealed letter sat on the dresser. Olympus, Michael read out loud, had learned of what had happened on Cocytus. An emergency council was to be held between the trio of main gods, with the meeting taking place in the Underworld in order to give Zeus and Poseidon the opportunity to inspect the locale where Satan was now entombed. To everyone’s surprise, Michael’s beloved sister made the trip as well, with the specific request of speaking to you privately. Needless to say, nervous would be an understatement as to how you’re feeling.

“I am, thank you. It was...frightening, to wake up on the ice and not have any clue what was happening, but I knew I was in good hands.”

“Knowing Michael, he would have personally found a way to reverse time if he hadn’t been able to bring you back to life,” Violet sips delicately at her tea. “What is it like?”

“What is what like?” You question, cocking your head slightly.

“To die, not only once, but twice?”

“Four times, technically.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, when my body was shutting down because of the ‘nothing living can survive in the Underworld’ prophecy, my heart stopped twice once I was admitted to a hospital Above.”

Violet stares at you for a long moment, a slow smile spreading across her face. “A true warrior, then. So tell me, (Y/N), how does one feel after dying and being brought back to life multiple times?”

“I’m not the same person that I was when I was first brought here, that’s for sure,” a dry chuckle accompanies your statement as you shake your head, staring down at the milky surface of your beverage. “I don’t think that you get to die and come back the exact same as you were. You come back...wrong, in a way. Like there’s a part of you missing, or a part of you that’s changed. Maybe your soul splits into a thousand little pieces when you die, and a few of those pieces don’t get the memo that they’re supposed to return to your body. We are all, after all, made up of stardust. Our souls must, in theory, return to the stars when we die, and the most rebellious parts of it refuse to come back down on the occasion that a person is brought back to life.”

“So you believe all creatures are celestial beings?”

“With all due respect, I don’t mean to get into a theological debate.”

“No, please, I’m intrigued. I would appreciate it if you continued.” She waves her small hand in the air, signalling you to continue.

“It’s a fact that, no matter what created the universe, parts of the universe are embedded in each and every one of us. Iron, one of the most abundant metals, can only be created in the depths of a dying star. We’re not celestial beings, in that we’re not heavenly bodies or something that’s not of the world that we, as mortals, know. However, we’re celestial beings because we’re literally composed of bits of the very fabric of the universe itself.”

For all of the talking that Michael does, Violet is the opposite. Whereas Michael would have interjected to provide his own viewpoint on whatever matter he agrees or disagrees with, Violet waits until you’ve reached the conclusion of your statement before forming her own response. The differences between them are stark, but the more time you spend with Violet, the more you notice mannerisms and characteristics that remind you of the man that is now your lover. When he smiles his genuine smile, he looks just like his sister. Their eyes both contain that same twinkle of mischief, and they share the same biting wit.

“You are quite the introspective soul, (Y/N). I pity what we may have lost had death decided to fully claim you.”

“Thank you, my Lady.”

“Please, after yesterday’s events, I believe we are far past the stage of formalities.” Your eyes widen as you understand the hidden meaning in her words. 

“It wasn’t a real coronation, it was just a ruse to lure Satan to us,” you explain hurriedly. 

“I’m aware. Very clever, might I add. But,” her kind eyes pierce through you, to the depths of your soul, “I know there was an ulterior motive to you undertaking the tests of the Seven Wonders.”

“I wasn’t about to let the end of the world be solely my fault.”

“Admirable, of course. However, you seem to be under the impression that my dear brother does not choose to share anything that he deems to be important with me.” Your expression sours with the realization that Michael writes to his sister about his (and presumably your) love life. “You have both professed your love for each other, then?”

“I mean, yeah, but it’s a lot more complicated than that.”

“How so?”

“For starters, the fact that completing the Seven Wonders only buys me some time. I’m still very human, and I’m going to have to leave here before my body starts trying to kill me for being in the Underworld again.”

“How are you to be queen, then?”

“I’m not--I’m not sure if I’m ready to be queen, or even if I want to be queen.” You absentmindedly pet one of Cerberus’s heads, a foolproof way to help calm your rising nerves. 

“What is holding you back?” You’re reminded how much of a child you truly are in the eyes of this millenia-old goddess as you avoid making eye contact and give Violet a half-hearted shrug. 

“I don’t want to leave Above for the rest of time. I like being human, no matter how much I complain about it.”

“You enjoy the sorrows of a mortal life? War, famine, poverty, tragedy, sickness, and all of the other terrible occurrences that would be avoided were you to become Michael’s queen?”

“Are there not versions of suffering that the gods experience as well? I’ve learned quite a bit about all of the different wars that have been fought, either directly or indirectly by Olympians. There may not be poverty in the traditional sense, but you can be lacking in a lot of different areas. Surely, you must also feel terrible when tragedies hit mankind? I mean, Michael literally kidnapped me so that he could stop the apocalypse.

“Yes, there are bad parts to humanity, but there’s bad parts of every species. I like getting to see the comradery that happens in times of turmoil, and the activism that my generation is using to make legitimate changes in society. It’s the little things, as well, that make being human worth it. Long car drives with no set destination in mind and the music blasting, street festivals, eating ice cream on a hot summer night, watching the leaves change, the holiday season. Getting excited over a new movie coming out, re-reading a favorite book, the families that we create, hobbies that get us through a long week. To you, these may seem dumb and miniscule. To me, however, it’s what makes life worth living. I don’t want to lose that.”

Violet sits in silence, wrapped up in her mind as she thinks over what you’ve just said. You tap your fingers against the edge of the table, looking anywhere and everywhere in an attempt to not lose your mind at the thought of possibly upsetting a goddess. Maybe your little speech was too impassioned? It’s not that she offended you, but her seeming aversion to the human race was enough to send you rushing to defend your fellow humans. 

“You and Michael are the definition of a juxtaposition,” she finally speaks, allowing you to let out a breath that you weren’t aware you were holding.

“Um, I don’t really see what that has to do with my defense of humanity?”

“Where Michael is dark, you are light. You smooth out his rough edges, while making him whole again at the same time. He’s rooted in reality and cynical, but you allow him to see the more fantastical, rose-tinted side of things. Yin and yang, I believe it is called?” You nod silently, letting her know she’s got it right.

“It’s nice to know that we complement each other so well, but that still doesn’t solve my dilemma.”

Violet’s pale hand is suddenly on top of yours, making you freeze in your spot. Smiling kindly in an effort to soothe the sudden rush of panic seizing your body, she stands from the table and pulls you up with her. Cerberus’s heads perk up, but he quickly dozes back off when he realizes there’s no danger. She clasps her hands in yours and, although she’s smaller than you, you feel shorter than her in this moment. 

“Talk to him. Let him know that you want to be his queen, but without sacrificing your humanity in the process. Trust me, if he loves you half as much as he claims in his letters, he will find a way to make you happy. Communication is the key to a healthy relationship; that is something that I wish Tate and I knew much earlier in our time together.”

As is your signature move when faced with a rush of emotion that you don’t know how to translate into words, you wrap Violet in a hug. She seems much more familiar with the expression than Michael, returning your gesture happily. 

“Thank you,” you mutter against her shoulder.

“Of course. If I am to have a ‘sister-in-law,’ as you mortals call it,” she teases, “I could not hope for a better one than you.”

“Violet!” Tate’s voice booms through the garden, alerting you both that the rendezvous is now over. “Violet, we need to be leaving soon.”

“It appears as though that is my cue,” she laments. “Do you promise that you will talk to him?”

“I will,” you nod.

“Good. Send me a letter and let me know how it goes; Hermes makes the trip from Olympus to the Underworld, and back again, daily. Give it to him and he shall know what to do with it.” 

Violet kisses both of your cheeks before turning to walk through the garden and find her husband. Once they’ve both disappeared into the palace, you set off on a renewed quest to find Michael. He’s not in the throne room, nor is he in his office, which only leaves one other place that you know he frequents: the library. The library in which, arguably, you allowed your walls to come down and let Michael wedge his way into your heart. 

He’s sitting on the bottom of one of the winding staircases that lead to ancient Greek texts, pensieve as he thinks about the meeting that has just transpired with the gods that are his equals. When you call his name, he tilts his head up, standing to greet you. His hands are clasped behind his back, and a smile lights up his face. It’s ironic, you note, how much the God of the Dead smiles when in your presence. 

“What is it, (Y/N)? Did something happen?” Michael asks. You shake your head, taking his hands in yours in a gesture reminiscent of Violet’s, mere minutes ago.

“No. Michael, I’ve made up my mind.”

“About?”

“I want to rule beside you. I want to be your queen.”

///////////////////

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