#but there was standing tickets a enchanted something ticket and three other which had also sections

[blackbirdprince]

I managed to buy tickets for the coldplay concert and the prices wasn't bad at all I am so happy

[raitrolling]

Last Train Home

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

(This drabble is related to @cloudbattrolls' plot, and occurs at around the same timeframe as Blindsided)

Viltau felt as if he was walking with lead shoes as he stepped onto the train platform at Selatak’s main station. He was thankful that the train to East Alternia was one with First Class carriages, so he could leave the oppressively humid city air and relax in a private air-conditioned booth. He hooked a finger around his tie to loosen it slightly, then undid the top button of his shirt to try and breathe a little easier.

Appearances didn’t matter too much now, not when he was this utterly spent from the events of the night.

The train pulled up shortly after Viltau’s arrival, and the indigoblood flashed his ticket at the attendant with a polite smile. The attendant gestured down the aisle and told him that his booth was on the right, and he was glad that she did not walk him over so he could collapse into the seat in exhaustion unseen, sighing loudly. 

It would be a lonely couple of hours to Jikiro’s hive. They had decided that it would be safest if they did not regroup until they reached the Takami estate, in case Goh Tat was suspicious of Viltau’s movements after the meeting and had him followed. His matesprit had also given him a blank slip of paper which he had tucked into his shirt pocket, enchanted so that it would warm up once the sabotage team confirmed they were both safe. He had faith in both Jikiro and Jamie’s expertise in pulling off the heist, but should the worst case scenario occur he would turn this entire damn train around to rescue them.

It was a risky job, and they would not immediately know if the sabotage was a success. The trap would not be sprung until after the three were long gone from Selatak, in order to make it look more like an accident with no relation to Viltau. Jikiro and Jamie had been cloaked by magic, their presences completely unknown to both the guards and the king of the metaphorical castle, and as far as they were all aware, Goh Tat had no idea of their relation to his descendant.

Viltau, on the other hand, would be at the centre of attention for this scheme - by choice, of course, because he knew exactly what to take advantage of in order to keep the older ceruleanblood interested and unaware of what was occurring around him. Something that made him despise Goh Tat equally as much as what he had done to Hazard.

Goh Tat liked him.

It made him feel sick to his stomach. So sick, in fact, that he turned down the attendant’s offer for any refreshments aside from a glass of water, unable to think about food at this moment. 

In that ceruleanblood’s eyes, he was a model highblood: Violent, ruthless, commands respect from those around him, strong. All the things that Hazard was not, at least not in the ways the Goh Tat deemed acceptable. Viltau liked being those things, all fundamental aspects of his personality that made him feel like himself and in control of how he was perceived by others, but he could not stand being praised for being typical.

He was also thin and conventionally attractive and took pride in his appearance, things that should only matter to himself and himself alone. He wouldn’t dare mention how he used to be overweight as a child, lest he give Goh Tat more fuel to bully Hazard the same way he was bullied all those sweeps ago.

Yet, there he had been, sitting in that room with that pathetic excuse of an accomplished adult, pretending to laugh along with his jokes at his descendant’s expense and agree that Hazard needed to be rebuilt from the ground up for his own good.

How was he going to tell his friend that he had proposed to mentor him into becoming that twisted ideal his ancestor desired?

Viltau had been very careful with his words, making his proposition appealing yet still somewhat abstract. He would mentor Hazard in being more like a ‘proper highblood’, but he did not specify exactly how he would accomplish this, and how long it would take. That would give the two of them enough time to formulate a better plan, to fake it until they made it, appeasing Goh Tat and hopefully getting him off Hazard’s back for once and for all. Especially if the real plan succeeded without a hitch, and they were able to shut down his psiionics for good…

He recalled the fear in Lizzie’s voice when she mentioned how Goh Tat used his future sight to spy on both herself and Hazard, how heavily his presence hung over the two trolls like the incessant heat that plagued Selatak, how Hazard had winced and stepped lightly but wouldn’t tell the indigoblood who had attacked him. As if it was not painfully obvious who the culprit was. 

It made Viltau’s blood boil, and it was that moment when he knew he could not stand around idly any longer. 

But, when the only way to succeed was to play directly into Goh Tat’s own hand, pretending to betray the very troll he sought to help, the victory felt hollow at best and pyrrhic at the absolute worst. It was not a feeling Viltau was used to, perhaps that was why he felt so sickened by it?

No, he thought to himself as he stared out the train window, catching his own reflection staring tiredly back at him in the moonlight. It was because a mirror had been held up to him, and he saw exactly what Hazard sees in him. He had only initially seen the ceruleanblood as a project. Someone shy, lacking in confidence, easily walked over and pushed around. Someone he also used to be like all those sweeps ago. But then he got to know him, the things that Hazard liked but denied himself the joy in partaking, the ways his identity had been torn down and beaten out of him, the small ways he asserted himself and allowed his achievements to speak for himself instead. Viltau had been no better than his ancestor in the beginning, it was no surprise that the scorpion-lizard troll rarely seemed comfortable around him.

He had to be better, not just for Hazard’s sake, but for his own. To make sure he also never turned into the exact kind of trolls he despised. 

But first - and Viltau pinched the bridge of his nose as he remembered, - he needed to fix all the carnage he’ll inevitably cause due to messing with Goh Tat’s psiionics.

Keep both Hazard and Lizzie safe. Listen for any whisperings that Goh Tat may have discovered the ‘accident’ was an act of sabotage, and was looking for the culprit. Devise a plan to break the news to Hazard about his talks with his ancestor, and how he is going to make a mentorship arrangement work in a way that benefits him while appeasing the older cerulean.

He absolutely could not leave Hazard in the dark like what he had done with Eichio while he was hunting down who killed the yellowblood’s lusus. He deserved to know, especially when the indigoblood had already betrayed his trust by going behind his back like this.

And, if worse comes to worst, be prepared for the consequences. Ideally, Hazard should cut his losses and throw him under the bus, as Viltau knew that he could claw his way back from whatever Goh Tat may have in store for him for trying to out-manipulate him. He would much prefer that outcome over that brute taking it out on his descendant, but he knew that would be unlikely. That man was a coward, taking his rage out on those he knew would be unable to fight back against him, instead of those more responsible for any misgivings that were capable of retaliating. 

It would be an acceptable loss to Viltau, if this act caused his own downfall, as he would at least know that he went down doing a good thing for a troll that needed it. 

Funny, ordinarily he wouldn’t think twice about that, as he always prioritised his own needs over the needs of others. It really goes to show how much meeting Jikiro changed him for the better, helping him redirect his impulses and pour his passionate energy into others.

A warm feeling fluttered in his chest, right above his heart. That could only mean one thing.

The indigoblood pulled out the piece of paper from his shirt pocket, and smiled as the word ‘Safe’ appeared in teal ink.

The road ahead may be rocky, but at the very least he could rest a little easier on the train ride home. 

[charlie-rulerofhell]

For they know exactly what they do

Today there was a pretty long article published in the German newspaper FAZ, written by Julia Schaaf. Since there were quite a few interesting topics raised in it and Måneskin talked about some new aspects (or in more detail), I translated the whole thing (it might also have helped me to procrastinate).

Full interview in English under the cut.

For they know exactly what they do

June 22, 2021

Four young rock musicians from Rome are today's hottest band. Måneskin are enchanting Europe. Why? We met them for an interview.

Every romance needs its founding myth, an anecdote from the beginning, something you can tell later in more difficult times for self-assurance.

In the case of the band Måneskin, who first had Italy and now half of Europe wrapped around their fingers, and who are now trying to conquer the rest of the world with their rock music, there is the story of the shoe box. Rome, around five years ago: Four teenagers who are meeting every day after school in their rehearsal room to make music together, and sometimes they play their songs on the Via del Corso in the city centre in front of a changing audience. One day they want to record their own stuff. They find a studio that they can actually afford and as they go there they bring a shoe box, with the name of the band written on it, 'moonshine' in Danish, the bassist's mother is Danish. In the box: around seven kilogram of coins. The things you get from playing music on the streets. Everyone searching through Instagram for photos from that time can find four hippies with children's faces, three boys in batik, the girl is wearing a straw hat.

As they have to pay [for the recording], frontman Damiano David, 22, says that there was this guy, Angelo, and his bandmate Victoria De Angelis, 21, is interrupting: “No, Andrea, not Angelo”, and all of them have to laugh because a rigid studio manager with the Italian name 'angel' would be even funnier for a founding myth. David continues his story: “The guy was completely dumbfounded. 'We can't do that.' We went: 'Sure we can, that's worth the same even if it's just 20 cent coins, it's still 300 euros.” Thomas Raggi, 20, the guitarist of the band, is gasping for air as he laughs, while drummer Ethan Torchio, 20, is smiling dreamily. David finishes: “And then we snuck off before he was able to count it.” [the German text says 'verdrücken' here which is just a colloquial way of saying 'we left', but it entails some sort of a dramatic exit, so yeah, let your thoughts get creative how they left exactly :D].

Four young musicians on the verge of global fame are sitting on a white interview sofa in Berlin, completely styled, babbling across each other like overeager teenagers.

Ever since the Roman band first won the music festival Sanremo and then also the Eurovision Song Contest, carried by the enthusiasm of European viewers, you could say Måneskin has become a phenomenon. “Rock 'n' Roll never dies!”, Damiano David yelled fueled by the adrenaline of winning, and the insinuation that circulated on social media of the singer snorting during the counting of votes in front of a live camera – including their strict denial followed by a negative drug test result – might have given an additional boost to their public interest, their exploding album, ticket and merch sales, and their outstanding success on Spotify.

“We think it's a shit prejudice against rock music that there always have to be drugs involved. We fully threw ourselves into our participation with the utmost professionalism. We give everything for the music. So of course we don't want people to think that we can only do that because we take drugs.” – Victoria De Angelis

Prior to Eurovision, Måneskin was more of an insider's tip outside of Italy. Handmade rock music, not creating something entirely new but paying homage to the good old times with classic guitar riffs and cracking drum beats, being a lot of fun but also quite fragile and vulnerable at times and, first and foremost, conveying a captivating energy. Finally, on the stage of Rotterdam, live after so many months of isolation and renunciation, this wave of energy spilled straight over into European living rooms. It seemed easy to (mistakenly) interpret the winning song “Zitti e buoni” (Shut up and behave) as a declaration of frustration of our youth in times of a pandemic. In fact, singer Damiano David is singing about the favourite topic of the band: the unrelenting need to, against all odds, be yourself, despite or perhaps because you are different. The message fits their provocative sex appeal, which the band uses to demonstrate their independence of gender norms at any given time. But the core essence of rock music has always been the promise of unlimited freedom.

Thus at the first moment, the meeting with Måneskin is kind of startling. It's Wednesday, we are in the top floor of the new Sony head quarters in Berlin. The four Italians have just started their two-week long promotion tour through Europe. In the afternoon there will be a live concert in a queer club [the SchwuZ, but that's not mentioned here] in Neukölln, which will be streamed via TikTok. Around one million viewers will watch the show, some of them even from Brazil, so people at Sony are pretty excited [for Måneskin to come here]. But at first, these stunningly gorgeous creatures [yes, that's the exact wording :D] are standing surrounded by an entourage of people – their management, PR team, a stylist, a photographer, people who can hold a smartphone or a cigarette if needed [this paragraph is worded a little weirdly, especially taking into account that basically their whole team / 'entourage' is just friends of them, but it seems like the journalist didn't know that or maybe they just wanted to describe their first impression]. They seem like fictional / artificial characters out of a Hollywood movie. Transparent frill blouses with blazers and flared leather trousers, even the platform boots, everything brand-new, the makeup makes their faces look like a glossy magazine cover even in person. The smokey eyes of De Angelis and Raggi make them look smug and bored. Later, on the pictures it will probably look cool.

So of course your first impression might be: This band is under contract to industry giant Sony ever since their success on an Italian casting show [X Factor] in Winter 2017. The music industry must have its hand in the game when a band is photographed half-naked by Oliviero Toscani and styled by Etro. Also, one does not simply rent a villa with a pool in Rome to produce new music there, isolated from the rest of the world. And who else went to London for two whole months, shortly before the winter lockdown, just for inspiration? After the TikTok concert in Berlin – De Angelis and David are now wearing fishnet shirts that sparkle with every move, their bare nipples covered with an X of black tape – the band is posing with a few influencers. In the world of social media you would call that 'producing content'. But what does that mean for a band who are preaching their hosanna of authenticity? How authentic is Måneskin? And is their pointedly casual approach to sexuality and gender cliches in today's pop-cultural spirit more than a marketing strategy?

We're in the interview, the recording device is running for not even five minutes, when Victoria De Angelis says: “Actually, we just try to be ourselves and do what we really want to do.” And really: The more you listen to those four how they speak about the early days of the band in their slurred Roman dialect, about the shoe box and their own experiences with being different, but most importantly about their shared obsession [with music], the more you realise that [De Angelis] is  very serious. Ethan Torchio, who got his first drum kit at the age of six or seven from his father because he was beating everything he could reach, says: “For me, music is like food. I cannot live without it.” The bassist next to him laughs at his pathos. Singer Damiano David applauds the otherwise more reserved friend for his truthfulness [it says 'klarer Punkt', meaning 'for the point he makes', but it makes it seem like Damiano is agreeing with Ethan here, although it doesn't indicate whether he agrees that yes, music is everything for Ethan or that he understands and feels the same].

De Angelis and guitarist Raggi already knew each other from middle school and they were the ones who tried to form a band at the age of only 13, a band that actually took music seriously.

De Angelis: “It's just difficult at that age to find other people who really put everything into music and who truly commit themselves and are willing to invest a lot of their time.”

Raggi: “We set strict rules and scheduled fixed times for the rehearsals, for every day.”

David: “Fever, stomach ache, there was no excuse. Even if you were feeling sick in the rehearsal room. At least you were in the rehearsal room.”

The way the four of them talk across each other, completing each other's sentences, taking turns in talking and sometimes joking about each other, seems intimate and playful. Singer David remembers how at first bassist [De Angelis] was merciless towards him when it came to her first metal band project, as she told him that he wasn't committed enough [to the music]: “Back then I was still playing Basketball. I was one of the people that Vic absolutely didn't want [in her band].” Drummer Torchio was later discovered through Facebook, even though there had already been a drummer, a close friend, but he was not good enough. It seems as if even back then music was everything for them. Even if it meant that only Raggi managed to graduate.

And why rock, why rock music of all things? Because it's great, the four of them say in unison. David adds: “Actually, it's a genre that allows you to do everything you want to do.”

When they played on the street, they were laughed at by their classmates. But not only there. De Angelis explains that she never wanted to be a typical girl: “I was always deterred by those stupid boxes that people put you in, and that are just restricting and constraining you, because something is only regarded as male or female. I always rejected that. Instead, I just wanted to do the things I enjoyed doing, I went skating and played football.” Torchio says: “Friends who are not friends anymore were already telling me at the age of ten that those“ – he grabs his long, silky black hair – “were wrong. Because I'm a boy and boys are meant to have short hair, long hair is only for girls. I was bullied a lot for that.”

“Compared to the past, people in our age became much more open-minded. It gets better.” – Thomas Raggi

Frontman David on the other hand, for whom eye shadow, jingling earrings and nail polish as well as his bare torso with the tattoos have become trademarks by now, says: “I was actually more of the average boy.” De Angelis convinced him to try out some eyeliner, which he describes as a spiritual awakening: “I liked myself much more [with makeup]. I saw myself more as myself. As if it had been a suppressed desire of mine.” On a trip to Copenhagen with the others, when he realised that it really didn't matter what people were thinking about him, he got his first fake fur [coat? the article doesn't specify that] in a second-hand shop and let his clothing style be guided by his own love to experiment: “I realised that my whole life I was just going at half speed.” When it comes to diversity all four of them are becoming almost missionary.

At the same time, their success is not only opening doors for them. Back home in Rome they are barely able to go out on the street due to all the paparazzi. “[You need a] hoodie and huge sunglasses”, David says, “the mask is quite helpful, too.” And still, none of them is complaining, and Torchio explains why: “Even if those experiences right now may have sides that are not so pleasant, we still know that for us a dream is coming true. We experience something that we always had in our minds, so we are willing to face every consequence that this entails.”

So is the band facing difficult times, is Måneskin going to change with all the success? Again, all of them answer at the same time.

David: “I'm not worried about that.”

Raggi: “No way!”

De Angelis: “On the contrary. Everything that happened to us happened because we are who we are, so we want to continue the exact same way and stay ourselves.”

Just a few hours later, they are at the stage in Neukölln, bouncing around like pinballs, hammering at their instruments, flirting with each other. “We are out of our minds, but different from the others”, David sings their winning hymn against conformism, and: “The people talk, unfortunately they talk.” Here on stage, the four paradise birds [a German word describing someone with a flamboyant personality] with their half-nude-glittering outfits are radiating an incredible energy with the utmost sincerity, and you begin to wish there was a live audience instead of the TikTok cameras, absorbing and spreading this energy. Måneskin. A cry for a life after the pandemic, a cry for freedom and a better world.

“We do what we wished for all our lives.” – Ethan Torchio

[ekaterinatepes]

Nothing but the Best

WARNING: nsfw (oral m and f receiving)

MINORS DNI

XIII.

(Part 2/3)

He stood up and set you on the table, standing between your legs Satoru moved his hands over your body, he opened your jacket thankful you were so thoughtful as to have places heaters on every corner of the gazebo so you wouldn’t freeze. With a smirk he pulled back “I am ready for desert” a mischievous glint in his cerulean eyes told you he wasn’t referring to the food. You moaned in answer while your hands also started taking off his clothes until he was left only in his pants and you completely naked before his predatory gaze. “Toru…” you moan against his lip when his index finger moved between your thighs to collect the wetness already pooling in between. “Mmm… better not let this go to waste..” he whispered before he knelt in front of you. Sucking his wet fingers before his mouth attached to your leaking entrance making you scream. You were so ready for him that the slightest stimulation had you tethering over the edge. “SATORU!” Screaming his name you placed a hand on top of his head caressing the his platinum strands while he ate you. He moaned sinking his tongue as deep as it could go within your womanhood. “Oh fuck!” You cursed when he added two fingers inside, pumping them slowly, making a come here motion at the same time he licked and swallowed everything you had to offer “come for me princess…”, “come for daddy…. I want my desert now” his husky and demanding tone sent an electric current down your spine making you tense right before you released in his mouth. Satoru groaned in delight sucking and slurping your juices “good girl” he praised you in between kisses until you were completely clean “I love desert” with a big smile he placed himself between your legs making you chuckle “well… I will have you know, I like my own desert too…” with a grin you switch places. Kneeling between Satoru’s legs you stroke the hard bulge under the tight fabric of his trousers. He moans at the stimulation letting you do as you pleased with him. Unzipping his pants you pull them down along with his boxes. His cock springs free hitting your face, Satoru groans louder at the sight. “You look so fucking beautiful right now” he praises you. Licking his member from the base to the tip you finally wrap your lips around the swollen pink head and suck hard. Bobbing your head you start a steady rhythm. Satoru’s sounds of pleasure encouraging you to take him deeper and faster until he is fucking your face, bucking his hips but avoiding pushing your head. “I’m gonna come baby… I’m gonna come” he moans desperately. To which you respond by deep throating him, inviting him to come down your throat. “oh Fuck! Y/N!” He came hard, a spray of warm cum shot down your throat. “Take it all princess! Take all of daddy’s cum down hour throat! That’s a good girl” Satoru encouraged you. Pulling your mouth back you suck at the tip of his sensitive member, making sure that you swallowed it all. “Oh fuck! Y/N! You are so fucking hot! My sexy and hot wife” a stupid smirk spreads across his lips making you chuckle when you stand up again. He pulls you in for a deep kiss “I love you princess” he says before grabbing a blanket from the small ottoman in the corner “you came prepared!” He observed chuckling, making you blush. Yeah, you were married for almost 4 years and that moron still managed to make you blush like a virgin. “Well it’s winter, I wasn’t sure the heaters would cut it.” He pulled you in his arms, kissing you once more while he accommodates cushions and a mat on the floor to then have you sitting on his lap. Serving each of you a glass of champagne you kissed and spent the night there in each other’s embrace. ~~~ End Flash Back~~~

On the other side of the world a sorcerer opened his blue eyes after a dream. The best dream he’s had since you left. It felt… so real; he dreaded the moment he woke up. He could feel you in his arms, taste you on his tongue. But it all had been just a beautiful dream, a memory from past times when you both were happy.

Sighing he sat upon his bed, alone again. Not that he wanted any of his one night stands soiling the sanctity of his home. Satoru never took them back home, it was always some hotel or their place. NEVER your bed, the one you both shared for the happiest years of his life. He had even bought your perfume ‘Ballet Rose’ by Philosophy to spray it on the bed and sleep surrounded by your familiar and comforting scent.

The dream was a memory of his last birthday, the one he spent with you. Making love and eating sweet things until the break of dawn. Closing his hand tightly in a fist he swallow hard. He missed you so badly, lately it felt… debilitating. How pathetic! The strongest jujutsu sorcerer reduced to a ghost of himself since you kicked him out of your life.

He had to do something. Even if he didn’t get to talk to you, he just wanted to see you one more time. Make sure you are alright, that you are happy…. Safe.

He grabbed his phone and looked for the phone number of the Chair Woman for the American School of Ballet. “Yes, good evening Mrs. Mazzo I am aware it is late where you are but I have a question for you. Is there any upcoming shows where Miss Petrova is performing?” He asked remembering you were a student still under a false name. The woman on the other side of the line sighed and sleepily answered you would be performing for 2 shows of The Nutcracker for the NYC Ballet Fall Gala at the David H. Koch Theater in three days time. “While you are at it I will need a ticket for the best seat on the right balcony. Private access, don’t care about the price just make it happen” the woman agreed and then hang up.

Satoru’s plane landed at night time in New York City and just like the last time he had s limousine waiting for him to take him to his suite at The Plaza. It felt it had been a lifetime ago when he last saw you in this very city.

He wanted to go find you but he swore to himself he would refrain from doing something stupid. He was here to see you in secret, without bothering you. He promised to himself he would respect your wishes and wouldn’t intrude your space.

He prepared himself for the Gala, wearing a black Armani suite, choosing to wear his dark Versace round sunglasses to match his style. Giving himself a good look in the mirror he smirked, well… at least he still got it. He was handsome and looked literally like a million bucks.

With a little boost to his confidence he left the suite and went to the theater where he would watch you perform that evening. As he walked towards the entrance to the main hall he saw your picture on a two gigantic banners, the advertisement for tonight’s show with your beautiful face, smiling and your body on a ‘grand battement’ pose wearing a beautiful cream colored tutu with golden roses carefully sown, your shoulders naked and the deep v cut of the corset showing off slightly your beautiful breasts, you were perfect… an angel. His heart stopped for a second. You were… absolutely gorgeous. He noticed on the picture that you had returned your hair to your favorite tone and your eyes shone brightly accentuated by an alluring cat eye make up that complimented your features, the image was enchanting. Truly a vision.

——-> Chapter 13 / Part 3

Tags: @sleepyamaya

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@okkotsuoasis

@my-reality-is-in-my-head

@dok-ja

@jscarlet06

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[realcube]

ARCADE

summary ★ she needs to get the action figure that's in the claw machine for her sister’s birthday, so saiki does her the favour of using his a telekinesis to win it...along with a few other favours.

trigger warning ★ gambling, god, swearing, fem!reader & reader has a younger sister

construction on the new arcade near pk academy had finally come to an end. the grand opening was today after school so of course, nendou suggested that they attend as a squad. usually, saiki tried to avoid getting roped into outings like this but for a change, he actually agreed without the need for any further prying. that's because the arcade was attached to a small cinema where they'd be premiering the latest action movie — based on the TV show adaptation of the game — 'Olfana's Story X-2'. as it turns out, a few months after saiki gave the game a shot, it became a craze and a massive hit among speed-runners. so from it's new-found popularity, they developed a TV show series which inevitably flopped so now they have created a movie. only the most elite people among the gaming community were allow to see it before the official release date and they all said it was incredible; but there was not a doubt in saiki's mind that they were being paid to sing it's praise. a crappy game turned into a crappy show, now adapted into a movie was sure to be crappy. so you may be wondering why he even wanted to view the movie if he was set on it being awful. Well, there are two simple answers; curiosity and the mystery. since it was so exclusive, he had yet to overhear spoilers through his telekinesis and he now had a germanium ring in his possession so he could watch the movie in peace. also, having played the game but not seen the show, he was curious to see how bad the movie is going to be and perhaps he'd be able to get a good laugh out of it. but he made the mistake of mentioning his plan to see the movie which screened a few hours after the opening of the arcade, as now kuboyasu, nendou and kaidou were all going to see the movie along with him. In theory, it shouldn't be a problem since he'll have his germanium ring on but in practise, the world seems to be against saiki so one of his friends will probably end up stealing his popcorn or chatting throughout the entire movie. he'll just have to wait and see. kaidou and nendou did not even stop to take breaths as they raced on about how excited they were while they were all walking to the arcade. "i'm sure the movie is going to be sick!" kaidou exclaimed, followed by rapid head nods from nendou as he replied, "yup! And i can't wait to see what sort of games they have!" saiki was a bit excited himself but he didn't care to show it like the others did. but when he saw the vaporwave building covered with bright neon lights come into view, his lips curled into a small smile. though it was short-lived as he noticed the massive queue to get in; it appeared as though they weren't the only ones who had the idea to visit the arcade after school as he noticed many familiar faces standing in line, amongst crowds of others. all of their cheery auras dissipated for a few moments until kuboyasu perked up, approaching the doors to the arcade with a smug smirk, cutting in front of everyone in the line and gesturing for the boys to follow him, "don't worry about the queue, guys. follow me." nendou followed without any further questions but saiki and kaidou were a bit apprehensive. all three of them watched as kuboyasu stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the guard by one of the doors, muttering something in the man's ear, causing him to sweatdrop and hesitantly open the door with a shaky smile; allowing all four of them inside. "woah, that was awesome, aren!" kaidou yelled, not only out of awe but so he could be heard over all the cheering, laughing and game noises from inside the arcade. "yeah, that was so cool! but what did you say to that guy? he looked freaked out!" nendou inquired, surprising saiki with his actually intelligent observation. kuboyasu's hand found it's way behind his neck, rubbing it awkwardly as he chuckled, "oh, nothing! it's not important-- hey! how about you guys start playing your games and i'll go get the tickets we reserved, yeah?" "yeah!" kaidou and nendou cheered in unison, high-fiving the purple-haired boy before the all ran off in different directions, leaving saiki standing alone at the entrance. he fidgeted with his germanium ring, contemplating taking it off as he stared at kuboyasu; he really wanted to know what the teen boy could've said that'd incite such fear into a grown man, but he decided against it — merrily making his way towards the claw machines, leaving kuboyasu's secrets alone. ★★★★★★★★★★ "shit." he cursed under his breath as he watched the cyborg cider man plushie that he's been trying to win — for yuuta — for half an hour straight slip out of his grasp once again. 'these things are rigged. and what's the point in having psychic superpowers if i can't use them.' he thought to himself but had to quickly shake off the idea, as there was no way he could risk using his powers in such a crowded place, especially for a plush that wasn't even for himself but rather for an annoying kid. he sighed, slipping another coin into the slot and about to find the right state of mind until he heard a loud "fuck!"  from in front of him. his head jerked up, scanning the area for the source of the noise until his eyes landed on you. the claw machines were lined up, back-to-back, and playing on the machine diagonal from him was a girl with enchanting (e/c) eyes which contrasted greatly with her disheartened expression as she stared at the box. the only emotion she wore was sadness as she stared at the machine, so out of curiosity, saiki slipped off his ring in order to read her thoughts; feeling no guilt in listening to the affairs of a complete stranger. 'c'mon, stupid claw machine, i need this!' your silky yet whiny voice rung through his mind, 'what's she gonna think about me tomorrow when i tell her that i couldn't get her the gift she's wanted? she's gonna hate me- even more than she already does. and now i've spent all my money on this silly game so i can't even try get her a crappy gift with the little money i had. Wow, (y/n), you're the worst big sister in existence.' saiki cocked his head to the side, peering through the glass of the machines to see the contents of the claw machine you were standing in front of and when he saw the limited edition, silver cyborg cider man action figure sitting on a pedestal — almost as if it was taunting the poor girl — he finally connected the dots. your hand dug through your pockets until you found the smooth metal surface of your final coin, 'just once more try. if i win her this action figure, maybe she'll finally respect me as her big sister! and this toy will surely make her more happy than any gift mom could've possibly thought of. i'll make her sixth birthday one to remember!' the dejected look on your face slow lifted into a determined one, but it wasn't very convincing as saiki — and anyone else — could see the worry and shame in your eyes as you dropped your last coin into the slot of the machine, giving you one more chance to redeem yourself and claim the title of 'best big sister in the world'. saiki watched you maneuver the claw of the machine with bated breath, admiring how your pretty nose crinkled and your tongue poked out from the corners of your perfectly glossed lips in concentration — 'ew, stop being a simp, kusuo.' he mentally rebuked himself before engaging with your scene one again. your fist slammed down against the big red button, followed by the claw opening and lowering over the box of the cyborg cider man action figure, slowly closing it's jaws around the box and grasping it perfectly, resulting in a slight gasp to escape your throat as your lips pulled into a grin. the claw kept it's grip in the toy as it lifted up, slowly making it's way over the hole where it would drop the action figure, straight into your possession.  that is, if the grip didn't falter hence allowing the toy to fall down, off it's pedestal and onto the bottom of the compartment to join the rest of the more average action figures. "fuck!" you screamed in an almost identical way to which you did earlier, expect this one held more pain. 'this can't be happening; is this the third year in a row that i'm going to show up to my little sister's birthday party empty-handed?' you thought, your bottom lips quivering so you quickly bit down on it, staring at the damned toy before turning on your heels, shuffling away from the game with your head hung low, the thoughts which cried in your head about how much you budgeted and how hard you worked made saiki's heart sink. 'maybe i could take out a mortga--' your thoughts were abruptly cut off when you heard the noise of something falling behind you. whipping your head around to see what happened, you exhaled a sigh of relief upon seeing nothing out of the ordinary. however, you caught a glimpse of inside the machine which you had been cursing at and realised that the toy wasn't with the packaging peanuts where you left it, as if it magically disappeared in the few seconds you had averted your gaze. creeping up to it, your gaze darted around in search of anyone who might've won it in less than 5 seconds but that was unlikely. now that you were closer, you peered through the glass once more to confirm that the toy was in fact missing and you were right. recalling the noise of falling you heard just before you turned around, you dropped to your knees and lifted the flap to the compartment which held the good that people would win from the machine. you almost screamed with delight and shock when you laid eyes on the limited edition, cyborg cider man action figure that was tucked snugly inside. yanking it out, you pressed it to your chest and the tears you were choking back finally came running down your cheeks, but now they were from joy. "thank you, god." you whispered to yourself, making saiki chuckle from his spot at the claw machine which he hadn't moved from. he wasn't god — nor was he friends with god — but he didn't mind not being able to take the credit for his kind actions of using his psychokinesis to drop the box into the hole for you. honestly, he found that seeing you happy, sitting on the floor with brightest beam gracing your features along with your now cheerful thoughts in his head, was enough of a reward for him anyway. also, he appreciated how you didn't question how the box ended up in the hole and instead you just deemed it a miracle as you were too overjoyed to use logic; that sort of thinking saved saiki a lot of trouble. 'i should probably go home and wrap this.' your internal monologue had now calmed down slightly as you were now able to produce a thought that wasn't just a squeal of delight, 'hm, maybe once i am done i could come back and see the new movie that's premiering-- but i've not got much money left so i guess i shouldn't get ahead of myself.' you hummed, picking up the box along with yourself, dusting yourself off before heading towards the exit. saiki must've been staring for a tad too long though as you caught his gaze while brushing off your clothes. he cringed, instinctively darting his eyes away so you didn't think he was an ogling creep but the fact he appeared defensive probably didn't help. so he fully expected you to frown or cast him a dirty look, judging him for his actions but to his surprise, you simply chuckled. waving at the pink-haired boy before strolling off with the box under your arm. 'he seems cool. where i can get clips like those?' why were you thoughts making him blush like an idiot? time to put the germanium ring back on. ★★★★★★★★★★ as it turns out, nendou is surprisingly good at poker. he figured this out after he stumbled across the casino section of the arcade, and since he looks way older than seventeen, nobody questions it when he took a seat at one of the slot machines, under the impression that it was a fancy, old-timey arcade game. he was then offered a round of poker with some old dude with way too many gold teeth and nendou ended up taking the poor, stubborn guy's entire fortune. god-knows how many games with how-many people later, nendou was sitting on stacks of cash at a round table with a tired dealer, and two grown men — one crying into the shoulder of his arm-candy and the other weeping into the sleeve of his suit — while the three boys who had came to give him his ticket stood by, all wearing matching confused expressions. "uh, nendou." kuboyasu tapped his friend on the shoulder, waving the ticket in front of his face, "the movie is gonna start soon, we should start heading over there right now so we can buy snacks and get good seats." nendou raised an eyebrow, puzzled until he recalled that he was supposed to watch a movie today, "oh, that sounds cool and all but i'm having a lot of fun right here." he smiled, motioning to the large casino area. kuboyasu chuckled awkwardly, backing away from nendou slightly as he turned on his heels, ushering the two other boys away, "alright, well, have fun, nendou! don't stay out too late!" nendou sung an okay in response, sliding a kaidou some cash for the extortionate theatre snacks before he was rushed away by kuboyasu, the purple-haried boy not wanting to spend anymore time in the casino than needed. "if nendou isn't joining us for the movie then we have a spare ticket. here, saiki, you should have it!" "why me?" "uh, because you said you saw reita earlier. so if you see him again maybe you could offer him the spare ticket." 'absolutely not.' was vocalised as "sure." by saiki as he took the ticket from kuboyasu's outstretched hand, fiddling with it before stuffing it into his pocket along with his own ticket. "what i said to nendou was kinda an exaggeration" aren mused, glancing at his watch before looking up at his two pals, "we still have some time left before the movie starts. i'm gonna go handle some business — you two have fun, and try find reita!" kuboyasu said before pivoting on his heels in the direction of the staff only closet. the only thing saiki could think to do during this free-time was escape kaidou's pestering to play dance dance revolution — since saiki didn't want to dance, dance or revolute, he darted outside as soon as kuboyasu left, leaving kaidou alone and confused in the middle of the arcade. 'finally, fresh air.' saiki inhaled, filling his lungs with the cool air rather than the stuffy, arcade oxygen. scanning the surrounding area, his eyes caught a glimpse of a figure standing by the ATM, which he immediately recognised to be that of the girl he had helped earlier. so naturally, he flicked of his ring to figure out the reasoning behind the awkward look on her face. 'do i really want to withdraw money to see some stupid movie? i mean, i could leave that money to accumulate and buy something nicer later.' without thinking, saiki hummed in agreement with your thoughts as he had been in your position many times before. 'but then again, i should treat myself! when was the last time i saw a movie that wasn't pirated? hmm..' your indecisive thoughts matched perfectly with your conflicted expression as you stared through furrowed brows at the screen of the ATM. a soft breeze passed, followed by something light smacking against you face. you winced slightly, your hand snapping your cheek and grabbing at whatever it was; just by the texture, you could tell it was paper. holding it in front of you, upon further inspection you realised that the mysterious sheet that had flew into your possession was in fact a ticket to tonight's showing of 'Olfana's Story X-2'  row G, seat 9. you double, triple checked it out of fear that this may be a cruel prank but no, this was completely real! you cheered, bouncing up and down and away from the ATM since you no longer needed it's services as god had blew the desired item straight into your hands — or your face, rather. either way though, you were over the moon, clutching the ticket to your chest and basking in your second miracle of the day. unbeknownst to you, saiki's smile was almost as wide as your own. you thanked god for your relief and saiki had no problem with that; seeing your little happy dance and squeals with your free ticket was enough for him. but actually, perhaps he might benefit himself after all, since the ticket he had given you previous belonged to nendou. meaning that saiki was seated at row G, seat 10; right beside you. ★★★★★★★★★★ saiki forgot to send a few notes flying your way in the wind, so you walked into the theatre and took your seat, completely snackless since you couldn't afford the exorbitant prices that they sold food for at the cinema. but perhaps that wasn't all bad as it revealed the possibility for saiki to offer you some of his popcorn as a conversation-starter, as he's usually not too good at socialising with new people — forget starting a conversation. however, he didn't need to work up any sort of courage to talk to you as the first thing you did when you plopped down in your seat beside him was turn to him and chirp, "oh, you're the guy i saw at the claw machines earlier! i love your clip thingies." your buoyant-adrenaline allowing your to be more bold than usual. the movie had yet to start, low murmurs of chatter coming from across the theatre as the trailers played in the background, "yes. and thanks." 'good grief, curse myself for not being more talkative. she probably thinks i'm dull now. perhaps i should channel my inner nendou..if i have one.' instead of ending the conversation right there like he assumed you would, you continued talking and saiki was..glad? why did he want to interact with you so much? he spends most of his days trying to avoid interacting with people; why were you any different? "no problem- also, did you get what you were playing for?" you inquired, tapping your lip in genuine curiosity. his ring remained on his finger, despite the fact he wanted to know what you thought about him, he didn't want to invade your privacy any more than he already has. "no. did you?" "yeah, i did, actually!" you chirped, not noticing the smirk creeping onto saiki's lips as you were too engulfed in your memories, "i thought those games were rigged but maybe they're not 'cause i managed to win this super special action figure that my sister has been on the top of my sister's wishlist for like- forever! and her birthday is tomorrow so i'll be a--" you cut yourself off, crinkling your nose in embarrassment, "sorry, i'm over-sharing, aren't i?" your enthusiasm made his heart flutter in a way he wasn't used to, if you didn't know any better, he would have thought he was having a medical emergency. his eyes widened slightly as you halted in your speech, "no, you're fine." he said, the uncharacteristic softness in his voice catching the attention of his two pals sitting on the other side of him. you shook off his comment, "i mean, i'm telling you my life story and i don't even know your name." you said, laughing sheepishly at the reality of the reality of the situation. 

“saiki kusuo.” he blurted out without a second thought.

you blinked a few times, shocked that he’d give his details away so easily as you somewhat expected him to be more of a reserved type of guy but evidently, you were wrong. “uh, i’m (l/n) (y/n).” you choked, biting down on your bottom lip slightly before continuing you story as he seemed to wait expectantly, “as i was saying, today’s just been the best day ever! everything has been going so well, i’m a bit scared as to what is going to happen when it hits midnight.” 

saiki nodded along, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth before remembering his plan, “oh- would you like some?” he asked, offering you some popcorn from his bucket. unfortunately, the plan was a last-minute thing so he had only bought a small, but he still wasn’t opposed to sharing. 

you shook your head, trying to grin foolishly wide at his kind offer, “no thank you.” 

saiki nodded, about to open his mouth to reply until the blaring music from the beginning of the movie started, putting a swift end to your conversation — despite the fact saiki would much rather talk to you than watch the crappy movie — out of theatre etiquette. 

★★★★★★★★★★

it was worse than you or saiki could’ve ever imagined.

it was painfully trying not to burst out laughing right in middle of it or lean over and giggle in each other’s ear at the silly dialog but out of respect for the other people in the cinema, you both stayed silent and just cast each other occasional knowing glances whenever something cringey happened on screen. 

you both let out audible sighs of relief with the credits began to roll, accompanied by a slow indie song. “that was..something.” you mumbled, grabbing your purse and jumping to your feet, wanting to exit the building as soon as possible and hopefully leave your memories of the movie behind you. 

“definitely.” he snickered, absently flicking the side of his empty popcorn bucket, “i stopped paying attention once i finished my popcorn.” it felt weird to vocalise — or rather, telepathically communicate — the comments he’d usually keep to himself; why did he feel so comfortable speaking to someone he only just met?

he began gathering his things, stuffing all of his rubbish in the bucket so he could dispose of it all at once. his mind was fixated on crappiness of the movie and how a five-year-old could’ve shot a much better film, until you grabbed his attention by calling out his name, followed by a question which made him blood run cold.

“before i go, it gotta ask’ how’d you do it? or more importantly, why’d you do it?”

he blinked several times before putting on his best bewildered expression, with the idea that maybe if he played dumb, he could gaslight you into thinking that it never happened or that he had nothing to do with it. “what?”

“oh, don’t give me that!” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes at the boy, “i’m not stupid. every time something good happened to me, you were nearby. i’ve connected the dots so fess up. why did you do all those nice things for me? was it out of pity or are you that nice to everyone?”

“i’m that nice to everyone.”

“i don’t believe you.” you snapped, fixing your tone when you remembered that even though he was lying to you, he still helped you get the present for you sister and gave you his spare ticket. “i don’t care if you’re not gonna give me a straight answer, but at least let me make it up to you.”

he huffed, an unimpressed look covering his features before you even proposed your idea. there was really nothing he could possibly need from you. what were you going to give him that he wasn’t capable of obtaining on his own? so he frowned, ready to decline your offer. 

“i saw that you bought one of those jelly pots from the snack stand and i actually work at a little café in the town, so i might be able to get you few things for free or discounted?”

“yes.” wait, that wasn’t refusal. 

“great!” you chirped, glad that you wouldn’t have to pry further, “does later this week sounds good? we could meet up here then i can walk you to the café- or i could give you my number and we can arrange a date later?” 

“sure.” saiki said without thinking once again.

but it wasn’t as though he regretted it when you slipped the piece of paper you had scribbled your number onto, into the front pocket of his shirt, tapping it with a smile. “alright! i’ll see you later then- unless you want to walk home with me?” you fidgeted with your fingers slightly, instantly regretting what you just came out with. not because you didn’t want to walk with him, but due to the fact you highly doubted he was going so say accept so you mentally prepared for the impact of his harsh rejection.

“sure.”

★★★★★★★★★★

BONUS 

saiki ended up walking home with some girl he met at the theatre so that left kuboyasu and kaidou to fetch nendou once the film finished. they both searched the casino area for almost half an hour but neither of them had any luck finding nendou. that was, until kuboyasu had to take a step outside to escape the casino as he noticed an old friend of his playing on the slot machines, and he found nendou crouched by the garbage cans, on his phone. 

“nendou! we’ve been looking all over for you- why are you out here by the trash? and what happened to all your money?!”

nendou chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with his spare hand, “fun story actually. i was doing so well and i was on my way to becoming a millionaire until these schoolgirls came marching in and absolutely slaughtered me! it was so embarrassing and the only way i could escape them was by running away so i hid back here.”

kuboyasu’s aura just screamed ‘disappointed but not surprised’, “so you’re telling me that you lost millions to highschool girls?”

“they might’ve been middle-schoolers, i’m not too sure. i didn’t get a very good look at ‘em but they were all wearing creepy red uniforms.”

all kuboyasu could do was massage his temples to ease his headache at the stupidity of his friends, “so you lost all your money to school girls in creepy red uniforms?” he repeated aloud, just to make sure he was hearing things correctly.

“yes. but not all my money.” he said, pulling out his wallet and grandly opening it to reveal a few notes and a button, “i’ve still got enough to spend on ramen with my bros!”

[drabbles-of-writing]

Reverse Au! Dump

Don’t mind my idea dumping here. Brain decided to have fun while I was at work and I have too many wips as it is, so… Thought I’d ask before I dumped, experience. Used morningmark’s comics as a base, so if you want reference. Now this isn’t all that well compiled, but here it goes.

~

Magic in the Other World is varied as it is crazy. So many styles over the generations and not a lot of organization. There are some that try to categorize it all, but that works as well as you’d expect. Some were lost, some erased, some weren’t passed down/recorded because “the power is all mine! Ahahaha!” It took a lot of time and collaboration, but eventually a sort of system was installed to help out. Still a lot of work to do, but its a step forward. Nowadays the term Wild Magic is generally reserved for those that aren’t all that well documented and understood.

Some Magics are very powerful and desirable, but also tend to be very high risk/high reward, kinda pass/fail, pretty literally Do or Die most times. So not a lot of people can use those or are even willing to. Story says this one guy named Odin hung himself on a massive tree by his own spear for nine days, no food water or rest in constant pain before he could unlock the secret of Runes. But it’s also said he gouged out his own eye to drink from the Well of Wisdom so… 

There are lots of different ways to channel magic too: wands, staves, jewelry, certain gems, familiars, potions, enchanted armaments, chants, scripts, etc. Each tool has its own advantages and disadvantages and play into a Witches’ style. Every Witch has at least two methods of spellcasting. Only children have one. Haven’t thought of how Luz gets her Palisman though. Maybe its one of those magic Artifacts like Dr. Strange’s cloak, Elder Wand, Thor’s hammer, or a Green Lantern’s Ring. Something that can’t be recreated because the secret is lost, materials no longer exist, too hard/dangerous to make, accident that can’t be recreated, etc. Happens more often than people like.

Camilla is sometimes called the Blue Witch. She’s a healer by heart and trade, but push her and she will become a one Witch Battleship. Bismark who? Aaaaand she just deleted a whole battalion. And the fortress behind them. Hide me. There are the very rare occasions, like count on one hand rare, when someone near and dear to her heart is in trouble that she takes up her other job. She’s especially terrifying when she decides to torture, those who know how to heal the body know best how to break it. Many shades of Blue, some are very close to Black. She doesn’t necessarily hate Humans exactly, but doesn’t have the highest of regard from past experiences.

Luz has training and is a proficient Witch for her age. Camilla and her father were adamant about having a general knowledge/skillset alongside her specialized skill. Jack of all trades and a master of none, still better than a master of one. She has gone through the system for her magic with varying success. Oracle magic? Zero talent. Bard classes? She can play an instrument, but can’t sing at the same time. When she does sing she tires too hard and messes up. It’s only when she doesn’t try, like absently singing along with a song or playing by her heart, that she’s good at it. Beasts? Can use them, but would rather play with them. Bleeding heart and all that. She does have a good handle on healing magic partly due to Camilla drilling necessary skills into her and partly osmosis. Her father arranged for some CQC lessons from an old friend of his which the girl loved. You get the idea. It wasn’t until she discovered Glyphs that she found her niche and her skills took off. Glyphs are one of those ‘eccentric’ or 'archaic’ styles since they haven’t been used in so long after being lost and are barely understood. She still has a long way to go, but she is on her way.

Luz never really had much in the way of friends, partly cuz of high profile parents which leads to certain pressures and a target on her head, partly because of her magic style and personality, and partly because of the trouble been going on. Luz grew up her whole life with this tension of a group of anarchists trying to burn society that’s just trying to do the right thing. The anarchists started small, but have been a growing problem the past few decades with talk how to 'reshape the world’ in not a good way. Anyone with critical thinking skills can tell this is a bad idea, but they are too brainwashed to notice. They harass anyone who doesn’t follow their rhetoric and attack anyone who even questions them. Luz’s parents put a real kink in a lot of their plans for years, which makes Luz guilty by association. 

Luz got caught in one of those sudden larger scuffles and was accidentally chucked/blown through a portal created by an attempted tactical retreat that went off course. Hence why she can’t go home because she hasn’t learned how to do portals yet. Those are high level anyway so how did these guys pull it off so easily? Luz has a hard time blending in obviously. Learning how to use a phone was a fun endeavor. Internet was a trip. Luz is amazed how these people can do all this cool stuff without magic. Keep a low profile sure, she can pass off as a weird out of town kid. Keep the beanie on, underperform in gym and stuff because some things don’t change, like genetics. Someone sharp eyed will see discrepancies. The Beanie has a small Glamor spell built in that covers her witchy traits but she forgot the ears which is why it sits like it does. Luz can erase memories in case she has an accident, but it’s less of a 'remove my face from this picture with a scalpel’, and more of a 'lemme just hack off the past hour or three from your brain with an axe.’ If she tries to take any more then she starts burning into some more dangerous territory and those Wiped are groggy and disoriented for a while after already. Then the magic attacks start happening and her heroic instinct/anti-bystander complex kicks in and there goes that. It runs in the family so Camilla isn’t surprised in the slightest when she finds out.

“Oh titan, why did you curse me with another me?” “I’m right here Mami!”

Eda has a shack very akin to Grunkle Stan. Lots of junk that Lilith can’t believe that people are dumb enough to buy. She’s also involved in some not so legal dealings on the side. Well, Eda isn’t actually hurting anybody and the tax dollars she should be paying would only go towards some politicians’ next yacht or another pointless overseas 'investment’ instead of where it’s supposed to go so. Eda does give some good intel on occasion and a place to vent so Lillith overlooks her. Lil’s more of the secret police for witches and a petty crook isn’t part of her job anyway. Eda understands Luz’s predicament and is willing to help. The cover story is that Camilla work in hospitals and has to work crazy hours while her dad passed away so is living with Eda for a while. King is that kind of critter that grew up weird and acts like ten different animals all the time.

Gus is the nerdy kid who infodumps on everybody, even if they’re not listening. Loves anything fantasy/sci-fi related and plays Minecraft too. A good kid at heart, but needs some social skills. Keep him away from anything more sugary than tea. Luz learned a lot listening to him. Not all of it is entirely useful, but still. Some of his ramblings give her some good ideas for magic and stuff, like putting Glyphs on cards.

The Blights are the cool rich kids obviously, and have some discipline and social issues. Big family name makes them intimidating for normies and a meal ticket for the unsavory. These kids need real friends. They decided to act out to get some attention from the parents who then decided to ignore them. “If you’re going to act like a child tantrum, get treated like one.” Ed is perfect for Drama classes, if he were allowed to partake. Can’t decide what Em is great at, hacking perhaps? Amity’s car is an inheritance from the only family to treat her as such Twins aside, even if she’s too young to remember it. She only remembers that she has feelings surrounding the car. All three of them were pretty impressed with Luz for standing up to them, calling them out on their shit, and not giving a crap about their family name. Being treated like a normal person is pretty weird. Can we get her to do that again?

Amity tried dating Boscha once, didn’t work out very well. Boscha is still hurting over Amity’s comment of “I’d rather go date the new weird kid (Luz) than go back to you.” It’s one of the reasons she goes after Luz. She has that kind of Bud personality from Spider Man, feels lesser and so acts out so much. 

“Wow, this new Witch is amazing. Not as cool as the original Witch.”

“What is it with the Witch with you?”

“Oh, she’s a hero. Looks out for the city and the little guy. She inspires me. Makes me want to be a bigger person. *sees Luz* What’s up Luz-er?”

~

And that’s what I got right now. I know there was more, but it’s lost to the void right now. Might come back later, maybe not. Lemme know what you think.

............

DAMN you weren’t lying when you said you had an info-dump this is *chefs kiss* you got me intrigued now

[lingthusiasm]

Transcript Lingthusiasm Episode 53: Listen to the imperatives episode!

This is a transcript for Lingthusiasm Episode 53: Listen to the imperatives episode! It’s been lightly edited for readability. Listen to the episode here or wherever you get your podcasts. Links to studies mentioned and further reading can be found on the Episode 53 show notes page.

[Music]

Lauren: Welcome to Lingthusiasm, a podcast that’s enthusiastic about linguistics! I’m Lauren Gawne.

Gretchen: I’m Gretchen McCulloch. Today, we’re getting enthusiastic about imperatives. But first, we’re going to do a Lingthusiasm liveshow – a virtual liveshow in late April brought to you on an internet near you for everybody who’s a patron of Lingthusiasm, which there is still time to become. Keep an eye out in late April 2021. We’ll be announcing the dates on social media and the website a little bit closer to the time.

Lauren: This liveshow is our current Patreon goal. All tickets will be for patrons. That is available at lingthusiasm.com/patreon. If you’re listening to this in the future from beyond April 2021, patrons will also be able to listen to the recording of that liveshow event as a bonus episode – along with over 50 other bonus episodes.

Gretchen: The Lingthusiasm liveshow is also part of LingFest, which is a bunch of other fun linguistics events that are happening in late April. Stay tuned to our website for more information about that. Also, in late April, we’re doing a virtual conference for linguistics communicators called “LingComm.” That’s people who make linguistics communication materials online – modelled after SciComm for science communicators. This is gonna be happening online. You can find more details about LingComm on the website lingcomm.org. That’s “comm” with two Ms.

Lauren: Our most recent Patreon bonus episode was an Ask Us Anything episode in celebration of our 100th overall episode. It is our 48th bonus and, along with our over 50 main episodes, it means there is twice as much Lingthusiasm. If you’ve worked your way through all the main episodes, they are all available at lingthusiasm.com/patreon.

Gretchen: Thanks for asking us such great questions on the Lingthusiasm patron Discord. Go hang out in the Discord if you haven’t yet. It’s fun!

[Music]

Gretchen: Start the episode!

Lauren: Go on!

Gretchen: Be interesting!

Lauren: Do linguistics!

Gretchen: Stay lingthusiastic!

Lauren: All of these sentences are giving some kind of command.

Gretchen: These are all what’s known grammatically as “imperatives.” They have the function of giving commands, but they also have the imperative, which is this particular grammatical thing where, in English, an imperative may begin with the bare form of the verb – like “start” and “go” and “be” and “do” and “stay.” That’s a particular grammatical concept that we wanna talk about today.

Lauren: The function of giving a command means that now, Gretchen, I expect you for the next half hour to be very interesting and very linguistic – if you’re going to obey the command that’s been given.

Gretchen: No, I was telling you to be interesting, Lauren.

Lauren: Oh, okay. Well, now we’re in trouble. It is possible to do things that have the function of giving some kind of command that’s not an imperative – that doesn’t have the grammar of an imperative structure. So, “I order you to be interesting,” is not actually an imperative.

Gretchen: It is a command, but it is not an imperative. Sometimes, you have this – I wanna say – this very imperial Ancient Rome – [imitates imposing voice] the Imperator or the Emperor is saying, “Take this man away,” is sort of a command thing. But you can also use imperatives – the form of the imperative – to do things that are very polite. You can say something like, “Come in,” “Sit down,” “Make yourself at home!” All of these are also imperatives, but they’re polite imperatives.

Lauren: I hope that people don’t think we’re being imperious when we use the imperative to tell them to “Stay lingthusiastic” at the end of an episode.

Gretchen: Secretly, this episode, we’ve been building up to it since the very first one.

Lauren: “Emperor” and “imperative” are related etymologically, I assume.

Gretchen: Yeah. The “emperor” is somebody who has the authority to give commands, and it’s definitely the core function of the imperative is that commanding function. But when I think of imperatives, I think about a young adult novel that came out in 1997 called, Ella Enchanted.

Lauren: Did this also become, I remember, a movie?

Gretchen: No, don’t talk to me about the movie. The movie is bad.

Lauren: Okay. Well, I haven’t seen the film, so that’s fine. We can just talk about the book, which I also have not read. Enlighten us about Ella Enchanted.

Gretchen: Ella Enchanted is one of those fairy tale retellings. In this particular context, the main character has a blessing/curse put on her by a fairy at her birth where she has to be obedient.

Lauren: Is this one of those blessings that inadvertently become a curse?

Gretchen: Yeah. The fairy’s like, “I’m gonna give you this blessing. Ella will always be obedient. Now, stop crying, child!” And the baby has to stop crying because she’s been given this command to stop crying.

Lauren: Very useful.

Gretchen: I mean, like, who amongst us could not find this useful? Unfortunately, she grows up, and if people give her a command even inadvertently, she has to obey it. What’s interesting from a grammatical perspective – and I feel like why I always felt like I had a very solid grasp of what an imperative is – is because she only has to obey things when they’re imperative commands and not when they’re more indirect commands. If somebody says, “Stand up,” “Sit down,” she has to do it. But if someone says, “I wish you would stand up,” or “Why don’t you sit down,” she doesn’t have to do it at that point.

Lauren: Oh my gosh, she’s a walking grammaticality test. She’ll tell you if something’s grammatically an imperative. This is fabulous.

Gretchen: Right?

Lauren: It would be amazing to have someone like this while you’re trying to figure out the grammar of an imperative.

Gretchen: Well, because then you could try it in different languages. Every time I see a stop sign, I’m like, “Ella would just be stuck here. She’d just be stuck here until someone told her to go again.”

Lauren: I assume it’s a pre-technology world because –

Gretchen: It’s like a fairy tale world with horses and stuff. She didn’t have any stop signs.

Lauren: Thank goodness she doesn’t live on the internet because the amount of, like, “Subscribe,” “Click here” – you would be ruined.

Gretchen: Right? Every time she got told to “Like and subscribe,” she’d have to do it. It’s a fairy tale world, so she only has the usual problems with imperatives. But it really – if you ever want a book to just tell you which things are imperatives for 286 pages of a charming young adult fantasy novel, I would recommend it.

Lauren: I feel like if you have very small children in your life, you’re also quite sensitive to imperatives and using them. There’s a lot of having to be very direct at children. Even if you have a habit of maybe doing things more politely and indirectly while talking to adults, you just have to tell children to do and to not do things quite a lot. If you have small children or maybe cheeky pets in your life –

Gretchen: [Laughs] Pets. “No, get off that! Don’t run into traffic!”

Lauren: “Sit.” Perfectly efficient.

Gretchen: “Sit!” “Stay!” “Eat your breakfast!”

Lauren: Yeah, I was gonna say I can’t tell if you’re giving that example to a child or to a pet but, honestly, pretty much the same.

Gretchen: Does it matter?

Lauren: If you have small people in your life, you’re probably quite sensitive to imperatives.

Gretchen: Meanwhile, I’m just sitting here with my tomato plants being like, “Grow! Grow!” That’s one of the things that’s really interesting about a part in Ella Enchanted. At one point she gets a letter from her father, and then she’s like, “Wait, I gonna make this other person read it and summarize it to me” because if there are commands in it then she could summarize what they are in ways that aren’t actually commands. In another context, she’s interacting with a character who she doesn’t really like but because that character is only saying, “I wish you would do this,” or “Why can’t you stop doing that,” she doesn’t actually have to obey that person because that character is still trying to be polite. Imperatives have this interesting interaction with politeness and with how we relate to each other as people – who is it okay to give a direct imperative to, and what level of politeness does that have?

Lauren: It seems like giving direct imperatives to kids is something that occurs across a lot of different cultures. We don’t have the data to say with confidence that it happens across all languages. In some languages, it’s weirder to give direct imperatives to people who you’re not familiar with. Maybe if you’re more familiar with someone – you might give more direct imperatives to someone you live with and spend a lot of time with. It really can vary across cultures and across individual contexts. One particular example I like is Sara Ciesielski’s work on the acquisition of Sherpa by children. Sherpa is a Tibeto-Burman language. It’s in the same family of languages I work with. In Sara’s work – there’s a great three-minute thesis video summarizing it – what she found was that parents give a particular type of direct imperative to small children. As the children grow older, they give those imperatives less. Children stop doing particularly foolhardy things, and they start to become more socialized into behaving in a socially appropriate way. In her data she found that, as those children got older, they were given fewer imperatives, but if they were talking to younger children, they would give them in the way that the adults do. You could see them getting socialized into this process of, “If I’m talking to someone younger than me, and someone who’s very young, I have to give them lots of direct imperative commands.”

Gretchen: I feel like I remember something about children learning a lot of imperatives very early in Mayan languages as well. I’m not sure. Now, I’m trying to find the paper. Of course, I can’t find it again. But I remember reading a paper in grad school about Mayan children learning a lot of imperatives. I think it was Ki’che’, maybe, or some combination of Ki’che’, Yucatec, and possibly Mam. These are languages that do a fair number of things with the verbs, but the imperatives tend to be morphologically very short and very simple and not have a lot of prefixes and suffixes. They also make really good words for children to start learning more complicated verbal structures with.

Lauren: Right. So, they learn these structures, but they also learn who it’s socially appropriate to use them with. I mean, it’s one of those things – I have no real depth of knowledge about child language acquisition – but I’m always amazed by like, children are given so many imperatives, but they still manage to use verbs and acquire verbs in all their other forms even though, for some cases – and I know in Sara’s work – the number of verbs in the imperative form that children are exposed to is multiple times more than some other grammatical structures. But they manage to all grow up using more than just imperative forms of verbs.

Gretchen: Well, and kids also overhear speech of adults between each other even if they’re not addressed like that themselves.

Lauren: Absolutely.

Gretchen: You have a variety of things that you’re exposed to. But yeah, the imperative is this interesting – it’s like how linguists often observe that words that are for close family members have certain sounds that tend to be cross-linguistically easier. You know, “Mama,” “Baba,” “Dada,” “Nana,” “Tata,” “Papa.” There’s a small set of syllables that are pretty easy for kids. Often, the names for close family members are from some subset of those syllables. They’re not necessarily exactly the same from language to language, but they’re a bit more similar than you’d expect coincidentally. I think that imperatives often being a little bit easier, a little bit shorter, having a little bit less-complex verbal morphology on them – I don’t know if someone has done that official typological study, but it seems like there’s a general trend in that direction.

Lauren: Which you’d need when someone is dangerously going in the wrong direction and you need to tell them to stop, or someone is just being a little bit too hectic and you need to tell them to sit.

Gretchen: You can imagine early humans – like a kid putting their hand into fire or something – and you have to be like, “No, stop!” Kids can try to do very dangerous things in lots of contexts. It’s useful to have language that’s accessible to tell them how to not do that.

Lauren: Those short forms, we often talk about them as being bare because they don’t have any extra morphemes that we stick on. Some languages do have a specific grammatical suffix that they’ll stick on for an imperative. In Yolmo and other Tibetan languages, the politer form of the imperative has the suffix “-tong” or “-dong.” There are some that just are bare if you’re being very direct at someone.

Gretchen: English for the most part has a bare imperative as well. You have, “Sit,” “Stand,” and it’s not like “sitting,” or “stance,” or “walked,” which would be adding some sort of morpheme on there. I guess, in principle, you could add a prefix on there. I’m not aware of a language that does, but there probably is one somewhere.

Lauren: It’s always dangerous to say languages don’t do something because they’ll be some awesome language somewhere that does the thing.

Gretchen: There’s probably some somewhere that do a prefix. I wouldn’t put money on that not happening. Often imperatives are a bit on the short side, especially ones that are informal or singular – like the kinds you would use with a child – compared to polite imperatives. Oh, you could put lots of morphology on to be polite.

Lauren: There’s the suffix in Yolmo, and then there’s a whole different form if you’re being very polite in the honorific register. We’ve talked about honorifics in a bonus episode before, and I’ve talked about that vocabulary there. Again, that’s that thing about giving a command is not necessarily impolite, you just have to use the correct honorific verb form to be polite when you’re asking a visiting guru to come with you or to please sit down. There’s a way to do that politely.

Gretchen: I first, I think, encountered “imperative,” at least as a term, when I was studying Latin. They have a singular and a plural imperative, so if you’re giving a command to one person or if you’ve giving a command to multiple people, which many languages do something like this. The singular imperative is just the bare root of the verb with the theme vowel. You have something like, “Veni,” which means, “Come,” singular, and then “Venite,” is “Come,” plural, “All of you come.”

Lauren: Good for specific command giving.

Gretchen: Yeah. There’s this extra morpheme on the plural form, but the singular one, which is your “Am I giving this command to a child,” is the very simple form.

Lauren: I did say Yolmo had that suffix, but there are a couple of verbs where, instead of using a suffix for the regular, everyday imperative, there’s just a completely different word. The most common one is – Yolmo has the word, “sa,” for “eat.” If it was just a regular imperative based on the model of almost every other verb, it would be, “Sadong.” But for this verb specifically, you have a completely different form of the word. You just say, “So.”

Gretchen: And there’s no “-dong” at all?

Lauren: There’s no “-dong” at all there. There’s no suffix there. It’s just a very short form. It’s a word I heard a lot – people asking me to eat as a guest. It’s one I’m very familiar with.

Gretchen: This actually happens in a variety of contexts where you’d expect one specific thing with the prefixes and suffixes, and then you get a different form of the root entirely. In French, for example, most of the imperatives do a very similar thing. You have, “parler,” is “to talk,” and “parler” is also the imperative and the plural imperative. But then for a few words – and one of them is “be” – you have “je suis/tu es,” so “you are” – “es.” But the imperative, like “Be quiet,” which you would say to a child perhaps, is “sois” – “Sois tranquille.” Literally, “Be tranquil,” I guess, but it’s used for “Be quiet.” Or “soyez” if it’s plural. Like, “Children, soyez tranquille,” like, “All of you be quiet.” English actually also kind of does this.

Lauren: Right.

Gretchen: This is the one maybe true imperative that you can test like, “Is this verb being imperative right now?”

Lauren: You told me this the other day, and I was wracking my brain for ages trying to think about something where it changes completely in English.

Gretchen: Have you figured it out yet?

Lauren: I’ve not figured it out, but now you’ve given me that example, I be it’s something to do with the “is/be” copula. That verb is a mess in English.

Gretchen: Yeah, it is “be.” “Be” is just one of those really neat verbs because it’s historically three different verbs all with their different forms glommed onto each other. Like, the “is/are” one, and you have the “wesan” with “was” and “were,” and then they also have “be” and “being” and “been.” Those are all from three different roots that get glommed together to make one mega verb.

Lauren: Yay, language!

Gretchen: Yay, language! This is a process that actually happens fairly often in languages just for a small handful of very, very common words. So, “be,” or “have,” or maybe something like “eat” – very, very common words. Sometimes they get really irregular or they get made out of combinations of several different verbs. Because they’re so common, people can just remember this, whereas if it’s really rare verb that maybe you don’t encounter until you’re a bit older or you don’t encounter very often, it’d be hard to remember like, “Oh, this verb has completely different letters in it.”

Lauren: It would be very weird for English to have a completely different form of the word “to crochet” for an imperative because most people don’t talk about crocheting a lot, and if you do, you rarely tell people that they have to as a command. When you have this pattern that fits for every verb except maybe one or two for the imperative or for other things as well. English is great with this kind of thing in tense when you have, “I go/I went.” “Went” is absolutely a completely different word to “go,” but we use it in the past. This happens often enough in English that when we have these forms that don’t fit the pattern, we call it a “suppletive” form.

Gretchen: Sometimes the imperative is where a suppletive shows up. Sometimes it’s also a past or something else you could do with things. Sometimes you can have a suppletive imperative, which kind of defies the point about maybe them being easy for children to learn, but they are super common.

Lauren: You tend to hear suppletive forms with lots of frequency. That’s how they manage to stick around.

Gretchen: Sometimes you also get a negative imperative.

Lauren: Yes. As with the fact that some languages use particular morphemes and some languages don’t use any morphemes, which is a nice throwback to our zero morphemes in the “Nothing Means Something” episode, if you remember that sometimes the absence of something is still functional, there’s a whole range of different ways that negating can interact with imperatives. But the thing that I find most charming about the relationship between negating and imperatives is that a negative imperative, as a category, can sometimes be called a “prohibitive,” which is just one of those, “I get that. That does exactly what that label says.”

Gretchen: Yes, the “imperative” is you command someone to do something. The “prohibitive” is you prohibit them from doing something, which makes sense. I have definitely just encountered the terminology “negative imperative.” I hadn’t encountered “prohibitive.” I think maybe a little bit of the literature, or until you mentioned it, I was like, “Oh, I guess you could call it that. I dunno if I would though.”

Lauren: I think it’s the kind of thing where if your language does something interesting around negative imperatives, you’re more likely to come up with the name “prohibitive,” whereas, for example, in Yolmo, you don’t use that imperative suffix with the negative. You just use the negative and the verb. Because it acts a bit differently to the imperative, I’m more likely to think of it as a prohibitive because it’s a slightly different structure. I think this comes back to a larger conversation about whether you lump certain phenomena together because they’re all similar enough in the languages that you encounter or if you split them up because they behave very differently.

Gretchen: I think I’m maybe more of a lumper than a splitter, but it depends a lot on the context because what sort of thing you’re exposed to can lead you more into lumper-ish or splitter-ish directions for particular things. Some languages just throw in a negator. Some languages, the negative bit for imperatives is a different negative morpheme than the negative morpheme in other contexts. Some languages you use a different form of the verb. When I was learning a lot of romance languages, the thing that always used to really just kind of grind my gears and show my lumper-ish tendencies was they’d be like, “Okay, here are all the different ways of doing the imperative,” and there’d be two that would correspond to the Latin one of the singular and the plural one, and then there’d be the polite one, and there’d be the ”we” form for like, “Let’s this,” and there’d be the negative ones. Those would all be borrowed from the subjunctive.

Lauren: Which is an entirely different category with an entirely different set of functions but kind of borrowable.

Gretchen: We’re not gonna get into the subjunctive right now because the subjunctive is a whole other episode someday. But I’d be like, “These forms are not some weird, surprising thing that you actually have to memorize 17 different things.” What it is is, “Look over here in this table on Page 56 and just borrow the ones from the table on Page 56.” You only have to memorize one bit of information, which is the “Go to Page 56 for this form.” You don’t have to just suddenly memorize this whole other table as if it’s some sort of surprising thing that’s unconnected. It’s really just borrowing from a different part of the paradigm.

Lauren: Yeah, sometimes imperatives do share features or functions with other categories, which is a thing that crops up a lot in different categories of grammar. It’s part of the fun of human languages and how they evolve in different directions and borrow things from themselves and copy across from different parts.

Gretchen: It’s interesting to think, “Okay, what was the historical version of this?” What was the version of this language early on when they were like, “Oh, we don’t quite have an imperative for this particular context – where else can we get something from the set of verbs that we do have or something from the set of things we’re used to doing with verbs?”

Lauren: Another thing that makes imperatives particularly interesting to try and elicit from someone if you’re doing elicitation to figure out the grammar of a language as a linguist or if you just want to learn a language through politely interrogating native speakers is that it’s actually really difficult to ask someone to tell you how – that they should tell you to do something. It’s a socially complicated little situation.

Gretchen: Because if you say something like, “Tell me that I should sit down,” they’d be like, “Okay, you should sit down.” And you’re like, “No, wait! That’s not imperative. That’s a different statement.”

Lauren: Asking someone to tell you to do something directly, when they clearly don’t actually want you to eat, so it feels weird and unnatural to be like, “Eat!”

Gretchen: And some people find it more fun to join that play space about language like, “Let’s imagine that we have a dog, and we’re trying to get the dog to eat” or “Let’s imagine we’re trying to tell a child to eat,” or something like that. It’s trying to figure out, okay, what is the exact context that can create the scenario which it would be said even though it’s said a lot.

Lauren: That’s not even taking into account that you might be working with someone in a culture where it is just so rude to give someone a direct command and that you need to observe them hanging out with a child or a pet or a person they’re really close to to get actual uses of the imperative because you’re some outsider to whom it would be incredibly rude to do that.

Gretchen: Some places you can use imperatives politely as well. But there’s often this additional social context. I think that there’s also – we were talking about earlier about like, well, you have this polite imperative or you have this plural imperative or this honorific imperative, and in a lot of the European languages that have these polite second-person pronouns, “vous” or “sei” or “Usted” or something like that, they also figured out some sort of imperative there which is borrowed from some other bit of the verbal thing there because like, “Oh, we need an imperative, but this was actually originally a third-person” or a plural or something, and you have to grab it from somewhere else. Imperatives start you in into, “Okay, what do people do in this language and in this particular culture when they’re addressing somebody? What are the ways you address somebody? What are the ways you don’t address somebody? Which things are polite? Which things are impolite? What are all the things you can do?” There’s this word in French that I don’t actually know what it means so much as I know how it’s used, which is just the word you add to something to make it a polite imperative.

Lauren: Excellent.

Gretchen: It’s “veuillez.” It’s got a lot of Ls in it. That’s what French does. You’ll see it on a lot of official signage. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard someone say it out loud, but it’s on so much signage. You’d have like, “Veuillez sit down when the train is in motion,” or something like this.

Lauren: It’s where you’d use “please” in a polite English imperative.

Gretchen: But it’s not “please” because you can put “s'il vous plait” in there as well, which is “please.” It’s just the polite verb that you use for the polite things. I’m sure it has a literal meaning, but that literal meaning is not as relevant as the fact that it’s the polite verb you use for the polite things.

Lauren: The social function of giving a command is also why imperatives are discussed as a thing where you direct it toward someone else who’s also there – a second person, “You do this” – because in order for a command to be effective, it has to be a person delivering it to another person.

Gretchen: It sort of depends on how lumper and splitter-y you wanna get. If you wanna talk about first-person plural imperatives, if you wanna talk about something like, “let’s,” as an imperative or using other words like a hortative, it depends on what the grammar of a particular language is doing whether it makes sense to group it with the imperatives or not. Sometimes, like, “Let’s go,” or like, “Let him go,” “Let them eat cake” – sometimes those are treated with the imperatives and sometimes they’re not. But there’s also a core set of imperatives of like, okay, well, what do you do if you’re addressing one person, maybe a few people? And then there’s all of the ancillary stuff around imperatives which is still just not that big of a space. I think it’s one of those things where there’s something about how humans organize their societies and their culture and their notions of self-hood and –

Lauren: And how human brains are constructed.

Gretchen: How human brains are constructed. It’s kind of like how human societies have words for day and night cycles because we live on a planet that has a certain day and night cycle that’s really salient to everybody who’s here. That doesn’t mean, in theory, you couldn’t have humans who lived on a different planet that had drastically different day and night cycles that could have words for those sorts of things.

Lauren: This is why I love speculative science fiction because you get to build worlds where if you had people who could melt their consciousnesses together, then the distinction between giving a command as an imperative to a second person becomes less meaningful if you’re all the one consciousness.

Gretchen: Yeah, if you had neuro links or a society with magic or something where certain imperatives come with the force of commands where they’re magically enforced and certain ones are suggestions, maybe that ends up showing up in the grammar at some point. Or if you had, I don’t know, swarm consciousnesses or something, or diffused consciousnesses, maybe the first and second persons would work really differently because your notion of consciousness would be different.

Lauren: If you had multiple consciousnesses within one body, would you use a third-person imperative to talk to yourself?

Gretchen: I think there are people who have distributed consciousness or multiple consciousnesses, and they do various things – sometimes a “we,” sometimes, addressing other people.

Lauren: There’s so much scope for possibility, and humans occupy a tiny piece of that real estate, usually.

Gretchen: In Embassytown by China Mieville, there’s this thing where you have two brains that are occupying – they have to say all of the words together at the same time.

Lauren: Ah, yeah. It’s been a long time since I’ve read that book, and it is so full of fantasticness that I can’t even remember how those multiple-brain persons exist.

Gretchen: It’s been a long time since I read this book as well. I did not re-read it like Ella Enchanted, but I remember that in text, the words that they say simultaneously are written above and below a long line – like an em dash or a long em dash – and the words are written above and below. You have two mouths but one consciousness. It’s a surface-level treatment there because it’s not asking the question of, “What would that mean for first persons and second persons and third persons?” It’s just like, they say all of the words all at once even if it’s just a noun.

Lauren: Gonna write a grant application to do fieldwork with fictional aliens in a sci-fi fictional world.

Gretchen: I just think the space is really underdeveloped and some people should be working on it.

Lauren: There’s so much possibility for what an imperative could do in other consciousnesses, but in the human languages that we know about and have been discussed, in general, it’s doing something with the verb. That’s where it tends to hang out. That’s what we’ve been discussing so far. As always, I’m sure there are many caveats and complications, but it’s doing something to the verb that’s different from, say, something like tense, which is looking at time and where in time the verb is situated. It’s turning something that’s an action into a command.

Gretchen: There’s a distinction – I think the easiest one to notice is the distinction between something like, “I see,” “I look,” “I sit,” “I go,” versus, “See,” “Look,” “Sit,” “Go,” where one of them is describing something that’s going on, and the other one is giving a command which could have all the functions of polite command or impolite command in that range. It does change the vibe of the verb. The Romans, who did a lot of the descriptive grammatical tradition that we’ve inherited in the European language space, called this the “mood” of the verb. I think we should maybe rename it the “vibe” of the verb because it seems very intuitive to me. “Mood” in this context is not like, “Is the verb happy or sad,” it’s just a vowel shift from “mode.” Like, what “mode” is this verb in? It’s in the command mode. It’s in the declarative mode, the describing things mode. It’s kind of like, you know, set your gears to start or to reverse or to –

Lauren: And look, I’m not gonna lie. I think when these labels got added – around 500 years ago they became really consistent with grammar teaching – when they chose this word, I’m pretty sure they chose it for a really similar reason that you chose “vibe.” “Mode” is just this general word. It’s still a pretty general word. We use it for fashion or, as you said, a mode of a machine.

Gretchen: You’re mode of transportation.

Lauren: It’s just one of these wonderfully convenient labels that you don’t have to interrogate too deeply.

Gretchen: “Mode” seems to imply that you can have a given verb, and it can sometimes be in this mode and sometimes be in that mode, whereas “class” implies you have, you know, some verbs are in this class and some verbs are in that class, and they don’t correspond. But they’re all generic categorization words. They kind of just picked one. As far as I can tell, they just picked one and then that became the name for this distinction that they were trying to talk about of “Is the verb like this or is the verb like that?” Well, that’s it’s “mode.” Then we had an unfortunate vowel shift, and it seems like it corresponds to a mood like happy or sad. “Mode” is sort of the more intuitive way of thinking about what the difference is between these categories.

Lauren: People will sometimes use “mood,” and they’ll sometimes use “mode” and talk about “modality” If you see something that’s talking about “modality” in linguistics, it’s generally talking about, well, is it just a declarative sentence explaining how the world works or is it in one of these other modes like the imperative. There are a whole bunch of others in this category.

Gretchen: Well, and sometimes “modality” is also used for modals, like “can” and “must” and “should” and stuff like that.

Lauren: Oh, we should talk about modal verbs.

Gretchen: Yeah! We should do a whole episode about modals.

Lauren: With evidentiality, which is something we’ve done a whole episode on, there is a lot of discussion about –

Gretchen: Which is your favourite thing.

Lauren: Which is one of my favourite things. There’s a whole discussion about whether evidentiality is its own category separate from mode, or if it sits within a more lumper definition of “mode,” or whether we split it off as its own, or if it sits in a subcategory. It reminds me a lot about how I imagine the early discussions around biological classification must’ve happened.

Gretchen: Because at a certain point you’re like, okay, so we need to have all of these different sorts of levels of “Are these just different species of birds or are they all birds together? Here we’ve got the mammals. Here we’ve got” – I’m not a biologist; I’m not gonna torture this metaphor too far – but which of the things are more closely related? Which are the things that are more distantly related? There’s several levels here, but some of them you’re like, “Well, they just needed to come up with another name for this.” It’s useful to have a name as a handle so that we’re all talking about the same thing, but sometimes those names don’t always have a very good etymological reason for why they’re called that thing in particular. Sometimes it’s just like, “Well, we needed a name for this group.”

Lauren: And sometimes a level – because there are classes in biological animal kingdom hierarchies, right. So, the word “class” there has a really specific meaning, whereas we could just talk about a general class of objects or a particular class of students. It has all these different meanings. I think “mode” is one of those similar words that has lots of different meanings but in linguistics tends to have this specific meaning.

Gretchen: Yeah. And this is a thing that academic disciplines, especially, in the natural philosophy vibe of categorising the world and trying to figure out which things are more related to each other tends to go into common words and say, “Ah, we’re gonna come up with a technical definition for this one,” and be like, “Well, technically, this is what a reptile is now,” or like, “Technically, this is what a mood is now. This is what a mode is.” You end up with this situation where the technical definitions and the vernacular definitions co-exist. That can sometimes lead to almost more confusion where you’re like, “I need to figure out, first of all, is this person using the technical meaning right now or are they using the vernacular meaning. Which one am I trying to use? Which one is appropriate for this context?” In addition to “What is this word?” Whereas, sometimes, if there’s an entirely new word for something, it’s just like, “Oh, well, I’ve learned this new word and it refers to this specific thing and it always refers to that.” There isn’t this competing vernacular definition that also exists. The way that this often gets taught in classrooms is like, “Well, the vernacular version you learned is wrong. This is the real definition.” But I think we’re interested in describing language and saying, descriptively, people use “mode” in all sorts of different ways – people use “mood” in all sorts of different ways. It’s just that in certain contexts there’s this one very particular definition that it’s used with in this one case. Oh, “case,” that’s another one. Look, you can use “case” to mean a whole lot of things! There’s one technical linguistic meaning of it, but there’s also a lot of other ways you could use “case.” Sometimes the metaphor goes in the other direction. Sometimes a word gets borrowed from grammatical terminology into the more generic life circumstances as well. “Gender” initially referred to just a class, like a genre, and then it gets used in a vernacular sense as well.

Lauren: I have a sense that imperative – if something is very important, it’s “imperative” – came from the urgency of a command as well.

Gretchen: That’s possible. The idea of like, okay, well, this is this particular grammatical thing but also can get used metaphorically for the whole related set of ideas.

Lauren: In much the same way that the Linnaean biological classification system owes a lot to Latin terminology and that Western tradition of classification, I can’t help but feel that part of the reason we have a category of imperatives is because, as you mentioned earlier, Latin happens to have a very clear imperative form of the verb. I wonder what would’ve happened to a grammatical tradition and how we classify modality and mode and imperatives if we started with a language that didn’t have those structures.

Gretchen: I think it’s a difficult to answer question, but it’s a really valid question. I found Latin has a reputation of like, “Oh, I didn’t understand grammar until I studied Latin.” That’s not because other languages don’t have grammar. It’s because a lot of our grammatical terminology was invented specifically for Latin and to work really well with Latin. Then you end up learning about how English grammar works because you learn Latin in a very translate-y sort of way, and you learn what the reflexes are of particular English-y things in Latin or of things in another language in Latin. It feels like Latin grammar is easier because the grammar as we learn it was invented to fit Latin really well.

Lauren: As someone who didn’t study Latin, I’m very happy to say that I didn’t understand English grammar until I studied linguistics. It achieves similar ends but from a very different perspective.

Gretchen: I think, having studied both Latin and linguistics, there’s a sense in which the grammar of Latin is very catalogued in many cases, it’s very pinned down, because it’s not a language that’s actively being spoken by people. It has been finitely described. The thing that excites me about linguistics is you can approach grammar in this more experimental way where you can say things like, “Is the imperative really valid in this language?” Or “Does this language have a prohibitive?” “Is this useful categorization to make?” “Is this a useful distinction to make?” That’s something that’s less the case when you’re talking about one very well-described language and something that’s more the case when you’re trying to figure out, okay, how do languages compare with each other or what’s going on in language in general or what else is going on here or what’s going on in the language that isn’t as well described. It’s a more expansive look at how grammar can work than just like, okay, here’s a list of all the stuff you learned. You can be trying to figure out what’s going on with grammar.

Lauren: One of the joys of the imperative, as we said, it’s really relatively uncomplex grammatically across a lot of different languages and that it’s so interactively complicated and fascinating. I think that’s what keeps bringing me back to this category.

Gretchen: Which makes it a good introduction to the idea of, okay, how could we do these categories? What does it mean for a verb to have a “mood” or a “mode”? Whereas something like with the subjunctive, which is another mood, is harder to wrap your head around. If you’re trying to get a handle on both of things at the same time, it can be overwhelming. Whereas the imperative is a good slice to break off of “Here’s this thing that we know how to do the command thing. Someone wrote a YA novel about it in 1997.” But also, it’s this gateway into considering this broader question of like, yeah, what sort of vibes can the verbs have.

[Music]

Gretchen: For more Lingthusiasm and links to all the things mentioned in this episode, go to lingthusiasm.com. You can listen to us on Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, Spotify, SoundCloud, YouTube, or wherever else you get your podcasts. You can follow @Lingthusiasm on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr. You can get IPA scarves, IPA greeting cards, and other Lingthusiasm merch at lingthusiasm.com/merch. I can be found as @GretchenAMcC on Twitter, my blog is AllThingsLinguistic.com, and my book about internet language is called Because Internet.

Lauren: I tweet and blog as Superlinguo. Have you listened to all the Lingthusiasm episodes and you wish there were more? You can get access to 48 bonus episodes to listen to right now at patreon.com/lingthusiasm or follow the links from our website. Patrons also get access to our Discord chatroom to talk with other linguistics fans and other rewards including an upcoming liveshow. They also help keep the show ad-free. Recent bonus topics include deleted anecdotes, an Ask Me Anything with a lexicographer, and a Q&A with the two of us. If you can’t afford to pledge, that’s okay, too. We really appreciate it if you can recommend Lingthusiasm to anyone who needs a little more linguistics in their lives.

Gretchen: Lingthusiasm is created and produced by Gretchen McCulloch and Lauren Gawne. Our Senior Producer is Claire Gawne, our Editorial Producer is Sarah Dopierala, and our music is “Ancient City” by the Triangles.

Lauren: Stay lingthusiastic!

[Music]

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

[scvrllet]

If you're still doing these, could I get a 🎫 concert ticket for Harry Potter and Once Upon A Time?

Glad to have found your blog!!!

I'm Lucifer, but people call me Luci or Luce, I'm 21 (22 in September), I identifiy somewhere around the nonbinary category, but I see gender as something trivial. I'm a panromantic demisexual and prefer they/her pronouns. 6'3 tall, long wavy blonde hair, black eyes. I wear glasses and usually skirts with old band t-shirts (that I actually listen to).

I always have a bunch or rings around my fingers as well as multiple ear piercings. I'm super pale, to the point that people often ask me if I'm sick.

I'm introverted, but I can be a social butterfly if required. I love listening as much as talking. I never really talk about emotions/feelings but anything else I'mhappy to chat about. I don't really react to things apart from my facial expressions. The lift of an brow, a smirk or an eye-roll will let you know how I feel about things without verbal confirmation. I'm always calm and collected, and my voice stays monotonous no matter what ; I don't stutter, yell or scream.

I'm highly intelligent and very sarcastic, and rarely laugh outloud, but smirk a lot. I might come across as rude and blunt but on the inside I am a softie, just don't show it often.

I love literature (especially classic), arts and learning languages (I currently speak 18). I'm also musically very inclined. I study History and mythology. When it comes to hobbies, I read and collect lots of things things such as lighters, tarot cards, night lights, rocks/crystals and books.

I have four siblings and am the oldest, but I don't really keep in touch with my family that much. I have a few good friends (2 or 3) and I don't even really need much more.

I'm a Virgo, Slytherin and INTJ-A if that tells you anything.

I'm not athletic in the least, but am in good shape. My body is an hourglass figure and I also got a bunch of tattoos.

I have a bad habit of smoking, and usually having a glass of scotch or wine with me (but I never get drunk or even tipsy). I love spending time near water, but hate getting wet. I usually take long walks outside after midnight while listening to creepypastas or true crime podcasts. I love the genre horror overall, yet I rarely get scared. The only thing I'm scared of is being scared if something. And Santa Claus (<-- no idea as to why).

If I were to go on an ideal date, it'd hopefully be something original and not the cheese classics, but I wouldn't mind them either. I just want to experience new things.

I don't really celebrate holidays (e.g. Christmas, Ester) since I was raised in an atheist/witchcraft household.

If I still might add something, when it comes to relationships I'm never overly dramatic. I don't, as previosuly mentioned, yell or really even cry. I don't get frustrated or suspicious easily. If I see any inclination that my partner might be e.g. cheating on me, I ask them about it directly and will absolutely under no circumstanses go through their phone, computer or start stalking them. 

You wanted 3 random things, here :

1. I can't cook shit, I have set spaghetti on fire, cracked a pan in half and blown up a microwave.

2. I'm very unpredictable, but at the same time I like to stick to certain routines etc.

3. I've had my hair dyed more times that I can count with more colors than I know how to name.

Uhhh, I think that's all? I hope you have a good day :)

(🎫) CONCERT TICKETS - get a platonic or romantic ship/match-up from the fandom of your choice (max. two) along with a shirt headcanon

JOIN MY 4K FOLLOWER CELEBRATION

I ship you with....

Peter Pan

- Arriving on Neverland, in hindsight, was a mistake. Magic beans while very reliable were prone to mistakes every so often and so instead of appearing in the Enchanted Forest, you were on the beach of a large island. And what was the most odd of all, was not the strange feeling you felt upon arriving on the island, but the pair of eyes you could practically feel staring at you from the trees. Hoping that it was just an animal of some sort, you walked off the beach and headed to the path through the forest.

- Unfortunately for you, the feeling lingered, following you almost as you walked through the forest. Tall trees lined the path and every once in awhile you’d see some small animals scurry away. What seemed to stand out the most however were the silhouettes standing off in the side, deep within the trees but standing right below the sunlight for you to see clearly. There was four, than five, than six than......only one. Looking at your surroundings, you saw your footprints in the ground before you and it hit you. You’d been walking in circles the whole time and the silhouette was still there.

“Hello?” You called out, not sure as to whether or not the silhouette really was there.

Without a verbal response, the figure disappeared only to reappear a few feet in front of you.

You jumped back in shock but quickly regained your balance as you studied the person before you. It was a boy, looking to be around your age, with a questioning look on his face as he looked at you. “Who are you?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“I asked you first!”

“And I’m in charge of this island!”

“You? In charge of an island? What is this Neverland?” You rolled your eyes at the possibility. Neverland was a place made up so that kids could fall asleep. Not a real place that you could visit.

“Yes it is, and I run things around here so tell me, who are you.” The boy replied, emphasizing his last three words as he spoke.

“As if, what’s next? You call your little Lost Boys to come prove to me?” You scoffed. To believe that you were on Neverland was already too much and all you wanted was to get home to the Enchanted Forest but it seems you’re stuck playing pretend with a boy who doesn’t want to grow up. A shame really

Smirking, the boy simply pressed two fingers to your forehead and before you could even say something, your mind went foggy and your vision was filled with black.

- To say you got off on a rough start was an understatement. The two of you were constantly at each other’s neck while he kept you on the island, the camp specifically, and didn’t let you leave due to belief that you were a spy of some sorts. Not that he had anything to hide. Not yet at least.

- As time went on however, the two of you had begun to form a friendship. It wasn’t anything big or odd, but it was definitely new. He’d be less of an ass to you and let you explore the island on your own (with some exception).

- Upon finding your out about your hobbies, he would discreetly try to surprise you with materials to help you engage in them even if Neverland’s magic still had some restrictions. He would still try to the best of his abilities.

I also ship you with....

Blaise Zabini

- Losing was one thing Blaise never took lightly. Competitive he was but even with his ambition and skill, it was the mundane things that revolved around luck that often made him lose. Like the stupid bet he made with Theo on whether Gryffindor would win or lose where the loser would have to make a full four course meal complete with drinks for all the Slytherins in their year. Unfortunately for him, he had lost unlike Gryffindor and now here he was, spending his Saturday afternoon in the kitchens and a cookbook Pansy had given him “to help”.

- Blaise didn’t know what he’d see upon entering kitchen. He was sure to see a few House Elves, perhaps he could ask them for help, but what he didn’t except was to see you standing in front of the stove with a pot spilt cleanly in half somehow and a fire burning below. And to make matters worst, you were simply standing there as if you had been frozen.

“Hey watch out!” He called out as a flame went up towards you. Pushing you out the way just in time, he managed to save you from the burn in return of him getting burned.

“Fuck.” He hissed out in pain. Gripping his arm as he put out the fire with his wand before dropping it on the ground.

Without a word, you simply grabbed your wand and waved it above his burn. You seemed to be muttering something, a spell of some sort, as a cooling sensation covered his wound. Looking down, he was shocked to see that the burn was actually healing.

“How, how did you.... Thank you.”

“I was practicing a charm, fire control, but thank you for the concern.”

Feeling sheepish for thinking that you didn’t have it under control, he ended up excusing himself from the kitchen to head back to his dorm where his friends immediately pounced on the chance to tease him for a variety of reasons.

- The next day, instead of going to Hogsmeade with his friends, Blaise stayed back at the castle to catch up on a paper he had failed to submit on time. Deciding on going to the library, sh was disappointed to see that almost all of the tables were taken. All but one in the far back corner. Quickly heading towards it, a sigh left his lips as someone dropping their book bag into the table beat him to the table: you.

“Oh did you need the table? I can leave if you’d like?”“ You said upon noticing him standing in front of the table.

“No, no it’s alright I just uh, planned on finishing a paper for Flitwick’s class.” He admitted.

“You can have a seat if you’d like, I’ll just be doing my own work and you can do yours.” You kindly offered and Blaise gladly accepted. He really need to finish this paper or else he’s be kicked off the Quidditch team so while he didn’t get the complete privacy he originally wanted, he’s fine with this.

As the two of you worked in quiet, occasionally Blaise would sneak glances your way which you ended up catching once.

“Hi.” was all you managed to muster out as you tried to contain the wide smile that wanted yo grow on your face.

Trying his best to not chuckle at your slightly flustered state, he mirrored your smile as he replied with a “Hello.”

[oneweekoneband]

her Nebraska (1982)

In July I flew to Massachusetts with a plague on, and I felt that it was wrong, but my mother had begged and I’d been out of work for months. Mornings there I ran in long, uneven ovals on the same roads I’d memorized in high school. There’s no sidewalks, but the few feet of dirt between the craggy pavement and the open mouths of the fields serve all right for a single body in motion. When a truck comes up close from behind, the ground shakes, and I step away bouncingly from the street toward thigh-high yellow weeds and grass, and keep going. I was slowly picking my way back in that dirt, sweat-slick from only a plodding couple of miles in peak summer heat, and sucking the wet cotton of my mask in between my teeth on every inhale, when Taylor Swift announced she was releasing a surprise album produced by the guy from The National. Not the guy from The National, like, the voice, but the guy from The National whose photo was circulated on Twitter earlier this year as some kind of antifa super soldier, which isn’t the case, but would’ve been rad. First, I stopped dead to send some outraged, misspelled text messages, and then I ran home faster than I’d moved in years.

Tall, blonde, patrician pop star Taylor Swift is to me something like a cross-between a wife and a boogeyman. Bound we’ve been since we were really children. Time and its changes haven’t rid me of her, and what’s worse is I have never quite been able to wish they would, though I claim as much all the time. Countless hours of my one wild and precious life have been spent on endlessly analyzing the minutiae of Taylor Swift’s music, the mind that made it, the real world events which influenced it. And though all the while I have known she is only a person, and that people, while each strange and lovely in their own ways, are, in the end, mostly dull, needful in just the regular manner, the fantasy is better, the sick dream of a megalomaniac songstress, curious, thrilling, probably evil, and I choose that. I don’t know Taylor Alison Swift, born to this world in, I presume, the usual way. But my Taylor Swift? I’m a renowned expert. I’ve always eaten up stories—movies, music, celebrity news, the one my grandfather tells about falling off his bike once in Ireland as a boy and his face “cracking open like an egg”—like a starved dog. I’m obsessive about my interests, but not inclined to intense fandom, and certainly not fandom in the mode of the stan. For one, I’m too self-absorbed. But caring intensely for a famous person is falling in love with a ghost, and that’s all right—I mean, what the hell? We’re here together just dying... Let’s enjoy—but is an affair best undertaken with the knowledge that everyone alive has their own complex interiority, as unruly as your own, and that you, a stranger, are not in any real way connected to the lawless, blurry middle of that celebrity, and will never be. It’s freeing and fun to know this. I mean, these people are basically in your employ. Glamorous dollhouse dwellers. Acknowledging that uncrossable distance allows for a different, healthier closeness of pure imagination. My feelings, then, can comfortably be at once both fiercely intense and entirely silly. I am a foremost scholar in the art of the Taylor Swift who exists in my head. The real person raised in Pennsylvania I don’t know at all. I have some conjectures on the matter, and, as with all my conjectures, every hackneyed theory, each picky little opinion, I’m sure they’re perfect, brilliant, just absolutely right, but that’s still all they are. Taylor Swift, figure of the cultural imagination, is the Jodie Comer to my Sandra Oh in Killing Eve, annoying and pretty in frills, taunting me endlessly and holding us trapped together in a dance of most enchanting death. But the real Taylor Swift has favorite bed sheets and a social security number and a British boyfriend, none of which I have any desire to know about, and if I saw her at a restaurant I’d politely avert my eyes before, yes, dive-bombing the group text. There’s nobody on Earth I’d stand in line to speak to, but then I’ve been speaking to a certain figment of Taylor Swift for nearly half my life.

I went to a Taylor Swift concert the night before I moved into college in 2009. My father’s work friend, firefighter by day, near professional gambler by night, got comped tickets to the Fearless Tour stop taking place at the nearby casino, and he let me have them as a reward, mainly, for happening to be seventeen. Live in-person and performed acoustically, “Fifteen” made me cry. A few years after that, in the thick, sticky part of my first post-college summer, I wrote approximately twenty-three million words about her in these very pages.  (”Pages”) At that point, Taylor’s most recent release was 2012’s Red, and the work I produced that long ago July about Taylor and her career, writing I was fairly pleased with at the time, feels now, besides just being extremely clearly written by a twenty-one year old, strange to me for the way it favors the sweet over the sour almost uniformly. There is a wholesome kind of ardor in that writing which maybe I’ve outgrown the ability to hold. Or maybe Taylor just proceeded to spend the next half a decade plus releasing one bad single after another, and it was taste—and trespasses against taste—and not some shift in my nature which altered the tenor of our bond. I have real love for my particular image, gleaned from public statements and published art, of smart, bizarre famous woman Taylor Swift, and I admire the bulk of her output very much. I’m just no longer so inclined to fawn. This is not to say I am here to offer a Taylor Swift hate screed. I couldn’t swing it, and, anyway, I’m not a pop feminist-for-hire circa 2010. But we’re older now. Things are different. At twenty-eight, twenty-nine this month—Taylor will, also this December, turn thirty-one—I regard Taylor Swift warily, like an ex with whom you have a tentative friendship, perpetually on the brink of falling one way or the other into hatred or delight, only to wobble back the opposite direction again at the slightest provocation, but still, despite best efforts, even, I regard her all the time. 

folklore was released at midnight on July 24th 2020, but I was at a cabin in rural Vermont without Internet or cell service. I drank Bud Light seltzers with my mother while watching the eerie pandemic return of Major League Baseball, and when I got into a strange bed there I stewed, knowing there were people out in the world all over who were hearing Taylor Swift songs I never had, and that this was a fundamental wrong, a disruption in the balance of the universe. I listened to it the next morning in a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot. 

And folklore is great. That’s the terrible thing. Slightly less great, maybe, than some people have insisted, tricked, I think, by just the pronounced shift in sound. But it’s great. A little gift I asked for a thousand times and was still surprised to get, like a wife who didn’t expect her henpecked husband to ever follow through and buy the paraffin wax hand bath as-see-on-TV. For years, I’ve been halfheartedly insisting that Taylor had a great album in her. I’d say it even, perhaps especially, while she stubbornly fed me gruel. Or worse, gruel with the occasional whiff of something better. With a ripe, little raspberry dropped into the slop. The bright, villainous thrill of “Getaway Car” made me believe Taylor, my Taylor, was in there somewhere under the lacquer of sequins and synth, which, while not objectionable by default, seemed a costume, and an ill-fitting one. The lived-in world of “Cornelia Street” made those old scars sting. That gay “Delicate” video. When she did “Call It What You Want” on SNL and played guitar while wearing an ugly sweater. If the abominable “ME!”, lead single off Lover, was the stick, 1989’s “Clean” was the carrot. I was Charlie Brown, and Taylor my Lucy, yanking the football back again and again. Over drinks I still yelled that Taylor Swift’s next album would be, “her Nebraska”, referring to my favorite Bruce Springsteen record, and learned to live with that egg on my face for good. I suppose I even came to like it. There was something inherently funny in taking up, like, “blind faith in the as of yet untapped greater artistic potential of massively wealthy and popular singer Taylor Swift” as my totally inane personal cause du jour, and eventually it was a bit, a gag I performed to be obstinate and didactic, but way down somewhere awful near my kidneys I meant it the whole while. And then she did it. A pandemic befell the world and amid a sea of human suffering Taylor Swift remembered she can write. She wrote, and with a massive, crucial assist from Aaron Dessner, whose music on this record is sometimes so beautiful it actually angers me, as the last thing I needed in already perilous times was to be made to try and marry my uniquely perverse emotional responses to beloved divorced dad band The National and fucking Taylor Swift,  she made an album which, if not her Nebraska, per se (I’ve come to realize that a major part of believing Taylor Swift will one day make an album I find as quietly devastating and gorgeous as Nebraska is knowing that no album will ever actually be Her Nebraska... That each will, rather, to me, be more and more evidence that it’s coming still, more proof that the limit is untouched, on and on ad infinitum, or at least until the seas take us into a place of salty peace.) is a shocking credit to all my hard-fought and deluded confidence. folklore is great. This fact has made me feel almost equally as disoriented from my understanding of the world as the time-melting COVID-19 lockdowns have, and it turned my Spotify year in review annual collective AI humiliation kink thing into a glaring indictment of my mental state, but still, I mean... It’s great.

In talking about folklore a bit this week, there are a number of specific topics I intend to cover—what a thrill it is to hear Taylor say “fuck”; Taylor’s terrifying birth chart; the astoundingly perfect bridge of “the last great american dynasty”; “because my ass is located at the back of my body”; the bit in last year’s “Lover” where deranged WASP Taylor Swift implies that to “leave the Christmas lights up til January” is some signifier of being a love-struck bohemian, when actually everyone who doesn’t employ domestic staff to take their lights down does this; how reputation is the best of the Taylor Swift records released in the latter half of the 2010s, actually, and the people who can’t see that are cowards—but intend mostly to let the muse move me where she will. Against the advice of my better angels, she—that tie-in marketing eldritch terror—always does.

[fangirlbase]

The Howl of the Moon- Remus Lupin

Summary:

After a terrible accident in the battle at the Ministry in 1995, Hermione Granger wins a one-way ticket to the past. Unable to go back to his time, his only chance for survival is to adapt to the late 70s and get on with his life, interfering as little as possible so that the future does not fall apart.

However, everything goes downhill when Remus John Lupine starts to notice too much the new girl who clearly wanted to go unnoticed by Hogwarts.

Chapters: Prolog | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven

Warnings: mature

                                      3. The one on Valentine's Day

It was amazing how three weeks went by so quickly. One day they were heading back to Hogwarts and the next they were either bragging or despairing about not having a romantic partner.

The damn - or blessed - Valentine's Day had finally arrived.

Not only the Gryffindor tower but the ENTIRE castle was in chaos! Flower explosions here, little paper planes flying elsewhere as if it weren't an educational institution on a school day. Lilly Evans herself barely knew where to put her face after receiving her third bouquet of flowers that day.

- Flowers for another flower! - James declaimed whenever he appeared with another bouquet, stealing a breathtaking kiss from both his girlfriend and others.

The teachers had already reached a point where they were not even trying to contain the dispersion, only having accepted that it was impossible to compete with the expectation of a meeting. While James was spoiling Lilly more than usual, things weren't going that well for the other marauders.

I mean, they didn't go well because they didn't want to. Although Sirius had distributed several cards, none of them were returned. That dog had managed to tarnish his reputation with all the flirt and non-girlfriend girls at that school - but that didn't mean he had been left empty-handed, no! Unfortunately for him, the only response he got was from Marlene Mckinnon the only person he hadn't sent anything to. But despite everything, she hadn't pushed any closer since the day of back-to-school - which didn't mean he could goof around.

Dragging his two single friends, Sirius sought to slip past a certain tall, dark girl - however he was available to anyone else who wanted a little attention. It was specifically at the free time after lunch that things started to get intense.

- Do you really want to stop by? - Remus asked his friend terrified.

- If we don't go this way, we won't be able to leave. The way is to take a risk. - Sirius spoke with a little fear in his voice. - On three.

- THREE! - Peter yelled, stepping out in front of the two and covering his head as best he could.

Anyone listening would think they were about to abandon a trench and run across a field amid volleys of bullets, and though it was infinitely more harmless than that war scenario, the thought wasn't entirely wrong. The entire corridor in the west wing of the castle had been transformed into a passage for cards and enchanted planes, which could seriously injure anyone who took risks at that time, not to mention the owls that carried various packages of presents.

But they lived with a werewolf, what was a paper cut or a plane in the eye compared to Moony in the middle of a full moon?

Rushing away, Peter managed to gain distance, leaving Sirius and Remus behind. Indignant, Sirius barked a curse word loud and clear, darting after the smaller one, defending himself as best he could from the paper planes and their sharp edges.

- Oh, oh, oh! - He yelled as he was shot at by the fury of the invitations, not realizing if Remus had followed him or not.

Remus was the strongest of the three, the one who could pick up speed more easily. And even though he hid it most of the time, he loved bursts of energy like that. If Harry, Ronald and Hermione faced a series of keys in their first year, Sirius, Peter and Remus faced spells in their last year - with the exception that one of them found it all a lot of fun.

In the blink of an eye, Remus was running. His movements were quick, he could easily dodge the spikes on his face - but he wasn't quick enough to stop one from swooping close to his neck - which took him to the ground. Retrieving his backpack with ease, he moved half crouched half standing, gaining distance once more, leaving only the sound of his laugh as indicative of his presence in the hallway.

- You think it's funny, don't you? - Sirius looked askance at the werewolf. - I was hit several times and you think it's funny! - He showed the various paper cuts suffered on his arms.

- Nobody tells you to go out singing everybody out there. - Peter snitched. - A lot of people don't like you for that.

- It's not my fault if I get to the girls first!

- But they also don't like not being special to you, man. You flirt with everybody. - Remus completed.

- Ainh, ain... AT LEAST I RECEIVED A CARD! -  Sirius tried to brag, knowing the background of the two friends who were too shy to invite anyone. But that year he hadn't received a look of envy, just one of pity and shame. -What? Did you receive any? - Padfoot was surprised.

"One." Peter was the first to agree, while Remus just wavered.

Despite liking girls, Lupine couldn't even consider the possibility that he would be aesthetically beautiful to others. Both his condition and his extensive scars horrified him to such an extent that he intended to remain celibate until the last second of his life, both for fear of suffering further rejection or humiliation and for not condemning anyone to share these humiliations with him.

But that didn't stop him from receiving cards.

Annoyed, Sirius just snorted and went on his way. How long had it been since he had kissed on the mouth? Did you give a measly peck? More than he would have liked! But hope was the last to die and even though he was not Brazilian, he never gave up! And speaking of never giving up…. Here was his chance sitting on the lawn next to the Quidditch pitch!

Remus froze in place as he realized where his friend was headed. Was it serious that even on Valentine's Day Sirius left Hermi-Jean alone?! Lupine just wanted to disappear, he didn't want her to think he had something to do with all that, but at the same time…

Jean, in turn, just wanted some time in peace, to get away from all that mess of flowers and chocolates, resorting to the last place she would go of her own free will: the Quidditch pitch. Not literally him, as it was closed at times when there were no practices or games, but the area close to him. Sitting at the opening of the field to the castle, she was coexisting with one particular Slytherin who appeared to be as immersed in the books as she was.

She just wanted peace, but then Black showed up.

Jean seriously considered running into Snape's arms and coming up with some excuse for him to get her out of there - but if he did that right then Sirius would pester them and still fight the poor snake whose natural state was a bad mood.

- Granger! Do you come here a lot? My practices are only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. - Sirius played charm, ignoring her eye roll.

- I'm glad I'm very busy on that day and time.

- Come on, Granger! Why be alone even on Valentine's Day?

- I say the same about you. Wasn't it supposed to be surrounded by suitors?

- Not when I only have eyes for one. Do you want to go out with me today?

Remus was stunned. He didn't know why, but he was very interested in how it turned out.

- Only if you close your eyes first. - Jean blinked her eyes primly and spoke shyly, implying that she would kiss him first.

Euphoric as he was, Sirius didn't notice the real signs. Closing his eyes and pouting his mouth, he didn't notice when Jean grimaced and rolled her eyes, pulling her wand out of her bag and sending a flurry of nervous birds at him.

- OH, OH, OH! THIS IS WORSE THAN PAPERS! - Sirius tried to protect himself, seeing no other solution if he didn't run away.

"Ha-ha…" Severus Snape let out a laugh, amused by Black's love affair, but returned to his mask of disinterest when he noticed that the brunette and the two remaining Gryffindors were looking at him equally amused.

The Slytherin, who had already been left hanging upside down with his pants down, felt minimally vindicated. Of course the birds didn't come close to the rematch he'd like, but it was a start.

And if on the one hand Severus smiled, on the other Peter and Remus laughed.

- I wonder if one day he will still manage to get married. Even the newcomer didn't care for him! - Said Wormtail.

Remus didn't respond to his friend, too busy snuggling up to his prefect who just responded with a friendly wink, then went back to his books. And Remus was betting 10 Galleons that she was rereading “Hogwarts: A History” once more.

***

A few hours later Remus found himself sitting at his usual desk in the transfiguration room, prepared for the tutoring time. This was supposed to be the fourth week of help, but mysteriously no living soul had set foot in that room at the specific time.

He seriously suspected that the students would only show up the day before exams, desperate for first-period subjects, while Hermione was already betting that no one would actually show up. Come on, it was the weird newbie and scarred Gryffindor guy! WHO would dare to step foot in the monitoring?

Exactly, no one.

And with that in mind, he settled into his seat and waited patiently, noticing from his wristwatch that his colleague was five, ten, fifteen minutes late. Had something happened? Had the would-be diners surrounded her? Or would she be on a date?

"Then I'm the curious one..." - Moony barked in his head, embarrassing him.

It didn't matter, he wasn't interested. Even because, it wouldn't have been a blunder of her not to show up and not warn him - since there wasn't even work since no student showed up to answer any questions. But if you were that curious, just ask her, who had just walked through the door with a smug smile on her face.

- MS. Granger, did something happen? - Remus asked in an amused and curious tone.

- Let's say yes. I'm sorry I was late.

- Did someone ask you out?

Hermione was shocked by the direct question, but knowing his background would probably be no big deal, just a bad sentence formulation.

- You know it did, and you know very well what happened too.

- Made him angrier than usual. The poor man had just suffered multiple paper cuts when he was pecked by all those birds. Cool spell, where did you learn it?

- Let's say…. Sirius wasn't the first to receive my flock of birds. Do you know if he ratted me out to Minerva?

- No, why?

“I was called to her office to hear a lecture about how I shouldn't hurt my classmates with magic when they're unprepared, but I think she liked that. As the only ones who saw it were you, Pettigrew, him and Snape. And I doubt Snape created any sense of justice for you….

- It was either him or Peter. I honestly don't think it was Peter, he has nothing against you.

In fact, out of all four, Wormtail was the one who paid the least attention to the girl - whether she bewitched Sirius or not was irrelevant when he laughed at the flying papers himself. Hermione, on the other hand, couldn't reciprocate the sentence and say that there was nothing against the smallest one either. In an attempt to go off on a tangent, she preferred to change the course of the conversation:

- Is that you? Did you receive an invitation?

She just doesn't expect his embarrassed look, as if she's ashamed of it.

- Come on, don't look like that….

- It's not that, I… I got some cards. Three, from different people. And chocolates.

- And isn't that cool?

- Not when I can't repay any of them...

"I didn't know you were already engaged, professor…" Hermione spoke more to herself, leaving the boy confused.

As far as he could remember, he didn't wear a ring on his finger when he taught her, but he was still a teenager… Maybe he had a girlfriend back in high school… he began to ponder getting lost in the future.

- I'm not committed, but I also don't want to get involved with anyone. I believe that…. Studies are more important. But what about you, teacher?

"I don't think it's for that much..." Hermione tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, embarrassed by the question and especially noticing her slip in referring to the teenager as if they were in 1993 and not 1978.

- And what makes you believe that I would also be a teacher? Remus asked with a crooked smile.

And a silence dominated the room. Flushed and eyes downcast, Hermione tried not to freak out that she'd let the fact that he would be a real teacher slip away - while at the same time Remus felt his heart flutter nervously at the possibility that she'd interpreted it as flirting.

- Well, anyway I signed under your thought! About studies, I say!

- Is that why you run away from Sirius so much?

- Oh, save me! I don't need reasons to run away from Sirius, have you seen how he flirts? Even someone with the emotional level of a teaspoon can be less…. He!

Remus chuckled. Jean was absolutely right about that.

"It's not that I don't want to get involved with anyone, but after all that has happened, and with the availability of options that exist here in the castle…" She rolled her eyes.

- No one is your type? - He was curious again.

Determined to abandon thoughts of the future and feeling confident, Hermione sat down next to Remus at the same table as him, asking for more space with her thigh - their biggest interaction so far! And as she pulled out her potions notebook to review, Lupine pulled a bar of chocolate from his cloak pocket, breaking it into tiny pieces.

- Accepted?

- What are the chances of you using me as a guinea pig for amortentia?

Remus smiled.

- My guinea pigs are not available today, would you mind? Besides, I have a lot of chocolate here.

Hermione remembered the day on the express, sophomore year. Professor Lupine had a huge bar of chocolate in his pocket and on second thought, he had no way of predicting the appearance of dementors. He must have been a chocoholic.

- I would love to, but if I eat now I won't be able to have dinner.

- Ah… - He was embarrassed. - Later then?

- I don't see why not.

***

Lilly couldn't be happier!

This was the first Valentine's Day he'd spent with anyone, and even though he'd only been with James for a few months, he'd turned out to be a completely different person than he'd been in years past. He had matured for her! Of course it wasn't like Lily wanted James, the romantic boyfriend, to be giving flowers and petting to the Slytherin would-be diners, but for him not looking for more fights it was a victory! Before the fateful day with Sev….Snape, they already overreact with bullying any Slytherin, even the youngest ones who weren't even purists. And for the redhead that rogue behavior was as reprehensible as any friend-person who called another person bad blood. That's why she refused James so many times, only accepting when he made the promise that he would change what he had actually done.

The past no longer mattered. Nothing that day could or would spoil his good mood. Although they didn't have dinner in the Great Hall, they ate by the black lake. James had ordered a nice picnic basket from the kitchens, spending that moment alone with his lily, exchanging all the kisses he'd managed before the giant squid got sick of all the molasses and splashed them with water.

Although slightly wet - I wouldn't say where - Lilly was beaming! However, they had to get back to the common room in time for her to change to go on her night watch. And when the couple arrived at the common room, they were faced with a vision of a Sirius, completely sullen and covered in... Band aids colored with pets? That was definitely not normal.

- Moony by chance decided to use you as a scratcher? James questioned his friend, disentangling himself from Lilly to check on his roommate's status.

- Humph…! - Sirius huffed in anger, shifting in his chair by the fire and grunting in pain from his bruises. - If he had tried I would have finished him, that yes!

- Where's Peter? - Lilly was surprised at his absence.

- On a date.

James and Lily looked at each other in shock.

- But who did this to you?

- His girlfriend, yes!

- Peter's girlfriend?

- No, from your other friend.

- Padfoot, Remus doesn't have a girlfriend...

- Oh no? So how do you explain that over there? - Sirius pointed to the other side of the Hall, indicating a Jean sitting in the worn armchair with Indian legs, eating the chocolate that Remus absently gave her.

Remus, sitting on the floor at the far end of the room, was laughing at something Jean said, breaking a few more pieces of chocolate which he then placed in the girl's hand. James didn't know how to feel. He wasn't shocked, just… happy. In all those years Remus Lupine had never been relaxed like that with anyone but the rascals and now Lily. In fact, he'd never been alone with a girl for so long, let alone laughing happily like that.

- Sirius, we need to celebrate, that's right! Can't you see how well he is?!

- Say it for yourself! I just asked her out and she cursed me! I had to go report to McGonagall for help!

- Oh, stop being dramatic, man! Can't be happy for Remus a minu…..Lilly?

But the redhead had already approached the couple, bursting their bubble.

- That's amazing, Remus! - She declared when she was close enough.

- I haven't eaten anything with amortentia? - He asked confused with the sentence of the redhead, not noticing Jean's body change.

- Also, but you guys are dating is so cute! I can finally go on double dates! What do you think?

- Sorry, dating? - Jean choked on the chocolate he was eating.

- Yeah, Sirius who told you. Why did you just tell him, Remus? And you, Jean! Now I won't need any more excuses to bring you closer!

- Ahhh... I, well I... Excuse me! Hermione didn't say or do anything else, just handed the candy bar back to Remus and got up, walking as fast as she could to her room, disappearing into the night.

- EVANS! Remus scolded the redhead, visibly irritated. - Why did I say that?! - His high tone mingling with Lilly's last name had drawn James' attention there, who, ignoring his injured friend, went to his girlfriend's rescue.

- What happened, Remus?

- Tell your girlfriend to stop trying to insinuate things in front of Jean, please! Sharing a chocolate is not synonymous with dating!

- But you were…

- Far away from each other, just talking! How many times have I not given you chocolate, Lilly?!

- Whenever you ask, love. - James defended the werewolf.

- And even so we're not dating! Are you aware of how long it took Jean to feel comfortable talking to me, especially publicly?

Remus was right to be that way. She was the first real friend he had ever made, and she loved the feeling of having a girl with whom to spend time, eat chocolate, laugh, study….

[brieflygorgeouss]

for the prompts 41. i’ll keep you safe and 73. i missed you (the ask with those prompts miraculously disappeared from my inbox! i swear it was real lmao)

On Monday, Eliott comes home.

Lucas is there at the airport, waiting for him. He stands and waits and waits until people from the plane from New York start pouring in through the door. There are screaming kids and messy-haired women and guys in hoodies and sweatpants, all looking rough after such a long flight.

And then there’s Eliott.

Lucas’s field of vision narrows down to the sight of him the moment he as much as catches a glimpse. Eliott looks exactly the same Lucas remembers him, except maybe seems taller, which — that’s unfair. He’s looking around, searching, with a heavy-looking bag hanging from his shoulder and his hair mussed, and when he spots Lucas in the crowd, his face lights up with a smile brighter than any kind of constellation Lucas has ever seen.

Lucas doesn’t quite run to him, but it’s a near thing.

Hi, he wants to scream as he’s walking, as Eliott’s pushing past other people, too, hi, you asshole, welcome back to the country, hello, I can’t believe you’re here.

And then Eliott is right there, still smiling, and his eyes are so, so bright, and Lucas can’t really help the way he throws himself right into his arms, right there and then, amidst all of the noise and the commotion, amidst hundreds of other people. For him, there only matters one.

”Hi, Lu,” Eliott mutters right into Lucas’s hair, presses his face close, warm and real, and finally here, finally not hundreds of kilometres away, not only an image on Lucas’s computer screen or a notification on his phone. His embrace is strong and solid, and Lucas lets himself melt into it, imagines Eliott pressing them closer and closer until they merge together and just stay that way.

”Hi,” he says, not knowing if it’s happiness tightening his throat or something else, something bigger. ”I missed you.”

”Missed you, too,” Eliott says, presses a hand firmer to Lucas’s back. Lucas wonders, briefly, if he can feel just how quickly his heart is beating. Then, Eliott adds, in a slightly quieter voice, ”God, you have no idea.”

Lucas might, actually. If all the restless nights he spent rereading Eliott’s newest texts mean something, or FaceTime calls that are never enough, or staying up late despite the time difference, he actually might have an idea of what Eliott means. It’s the ache in his chest that never really goes away these days. The ache in his chest that slowly starts to dissipate now.

But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he lets himself lean a little bit heavier into Eliott for one, two, three more seconds, breathes him in and revels, just a little bit, in how reluctant Eliott seems to be to let him go when he, eventually, tries to moves away. 

”Alright,” he says, only an inch away from Eliott’s chest because that’s everything Eliott allows him, and Lucas feels like that’s too much anyway. ”Let’s get you home.”

*

(The last time they were at the airport, Lucas kissed him. 

Which wasn’t a mistake, but was not the right thing to do, either. It was stupid, is what it was. Eliott was going away for a long time, with his two giant suitcases and dreams waiting to be fulfilled somewhere else, and it was idiotic, to try and begin something, whatever this spark in Lucas’s heart was, here in the face of so many things coming to an end. But Lucas was teary-eyed and so, so sad, and his heart was breaking. So he kissed him.

It wasn’t, in hindsight, the best of choices, to show your best friend you’re in love with him mere minutes before said best friend gets on a plane and you don’t see each other for the next 6 months.)

*

On Tuesday, they catch up.

”So,” Lucas says as they’re sitting in the kitchen, Eliott properly at the table and Lucas at the kitchen counter with his legs dangling in the air, although it isn’t even, technically, his own house, ”how’s New York?”

Eliott rolls his eyes at him.

”You ask like you don’t know,” he says. He sounds fond. If Lucas were to describe it, that’s the word he would use. ”In case you forgot already, we call each other every other day.”

That’s true. Lucas’s messed up sleep schedule can attest to that, with how late he stays up sometimes, even when he has a test the next day or stares at the clock at 2 in the morning and already knows he won’t wake up in time to get to class but doesn’t go to sleep anyway. Eliott does things like that, too, and then texts Lucas stuff like, ”the professor yelled at me for falling asleep in class, but it was worth it for getting to talk to you yesterday,” and Lucas stares at the messages for longer than he should, every time. Sometimes it doesn’t work out, but they try — both of them. It’s nice, knowing Eliott doesn’t forget about him, all the way over there at the other end of the world, when they’re both trying as hard as they are.

But he still says, just because he can, ”So what?” and then, raising his eyebrows at Eliott, hoping it comes off as it feels — like a challenge, ”I still don’t really know. I’ve never been there. And whose fault is that, I wonder.”

Eliott smiles at that, but it’s a little crooked where it shouldn’t be, all of a sudden. Lucas wants to reach and straighten it out, smooth it out like creases on a sheet of paper. ”You know I’d take you there with me if I could.”

Lucas knows. They’d talked about it, time and time again, and Lucas even cried once, hoping Eliott couldn’t hear it in his voice as he pressed the phone harder against the side of his face, as if that could make Eliott sound like he was really here. 

Couldn’t you go to film school somewhere closer, he’d told him then, knowing what he was saying was unfair but doing it anyway. Lucas is, you see, selfish like that. You’re so unfair, you asshole.

And Eliott had said, then, I know, and, always, always knowing what it really was that Lucas meant even when he didn’t say it explicitly, I wish you were here, too.

But Lucas can’t really leave, and Eliott can’t really stay. So here’s what they have — a week together, and then they’ll be off to lead their separate lifestyles again, far away, Lucas in Paris, Eliott in New York. That’s how it is. 

Lucas thinks he should be used to it by now. And yet.

”I can’t afford the tickets anyway,” is what he says in response, hopes it’s good enough to mask the sudden notes of sadness creeping into his voice. ”And before you say anything, no, I’m not letting you buy them for me. You can spend your scholarship money in a better way.”

Eliott huffs, but he’s smiling. The last time they argued about this, they stayed up on FaceTime until 3 AM.

”There isn’t a better way to spend it,” Eliott says, but it’s only a weak jab, a reminder of their previous, much more heated argument, and Lucas can see it in his eyes that he brings it up again only to drop it a second later. Lucas swings his legs, kicks at the kitchen cupboards, lets a small smile slip onto his face.

”When you become a famous director,” he says, frames it like it’s a compromise of sorts, ”then you can buy me tickets. How about that?”

Eliott hums and then smiles adorably. Lucas could look at his smile for hours on end. ”I’ll hold you to that.”

*

(They’ve been toeing the line for so long that Lucas wonders, sometimes, if they’ll ever stop at all.

Or maybe it’ll be like this forever — Lucas trying not to read too much into all the things that Eliott is saying, and Eliott saying them anyway. Looking at each other like they’re more than they really are. Staying up all night talking, but not about what matters the most, not about what seems to always echo in the back of Lucas’s head once he hears Eliott’s voice. Kissing at the airport and then not mentioning it once.)

*

On Wednesday, Eliott drags Lucas out of his house and demands that he show him ”what’s new”.

”Nothing’s new,” Lucas tells him, trying to sound upset because Eliott woke him up at 7 am and then proceeded to drag him out of bed without even feeling sorry for it, but he’s not really succeeding much. They’re on the subway. It’s too crowded for Lucas’s liking, but he uses that as an excuse to press a bit closer to Eliott, to lean on him and to grip his shoulder every time they halt to a stop. ”I don’t know what I’m supposed to show you. You know this city just as well as I do.”

Eliott levels him with a look, but can’t hide the sparks of amusement in his voice. ”Lucas, something had to change since I’ve last been here.” He shrugs. Lucas grips his shoulder tighter. ”I just wanna see what.”

So they go. At 8 am, when it’s still a bit chilly here outside, they walk the streets, and Lucas tries to figure it out. They get a coffee at a cafe Eliott used to go to all the time back in high school that has now changed the owner, and Lucas shows him a bookstore they used to pass on their way to the bus station every day that now is not a bookstore anymore but a vegan chain restaurant. 

Eliott tells him, when he sees it, ”I’m devastated.”

Lucas only barks out a laugh.

It’s good to see Eliott back around familiar corners again. A bit surreal, too, but Lucas doesn’t want to think about it too much. Eliott seems to take the city in like it’s his first time here, keeps looking around and smiling at people passing them by as they walk, but at the same time, he just— fits so well in here. He looks like he belongs because he really does. They see a cat at a curb at one point, and Eliott is immediately enchanted, goes over to pet it, and Lucas can’t look away from the picture that it makes.

He’s missed him so much that it hurts a little, even when Eliott’s already here.

They go to an art gallery, too. That is, Lucas guesses, also a part of the city that’s changed, although it barely really counts because it’s just how exhibitions work. But then again, Eliott’s eyes light up like the stars when Lucas suggests it, so. The answer to the question is obvious. 

They pay for the tickets, and then Eliott spends at least 10 minutes in front of every single painting, looking and talking to Lucas in a hushed voice, and Lucas complains weakly about how much time Eliott’s taking but doesn’t move a step away. 

There is a weird feeling in his chest that takes him a while to identify as relief. 

He was worried, in a strange way, about bringing Eliott here. He was worried about many things. So much has changed, during those 6 months — the city, the weather, the weird void in Lucas’s ribcage whenever he thought of Eliott, going from sharply painful to only unpleasantly familiar — that he was afraid Eliott has changed, too. Became someone else, someone who wouldn’t fit in this scene — the art gallery, the fluorescent lights, their casual banter, standing shoulder to shoulder — and Lucas was not there to see. Was not there to catch up with the changes. 

”What do you think this one is called?” Eliott asks, pointing at another art piece, one of many. 

”It’s ’The Summer',” Lucas reads off of a metal nameplate under it, but Eliott’s already shaking his head. 

”No, not the title, I mean,” he says, bumps his shoulder into Lucas’s like when they were kids, and he was trying to rope Lucas into doing something he considered fun, ”what would you call it? What do you think?”

And, see — Eliott hasn’t changed much at all. 

They will be, Lucas thinks, just fine.

*

(Please, he’s thought to himself in the dark hours of the night so many times, staring up at his ceiling, please let us be fine. 

He fucked up, you see. Lucas is aware of that. They both are, really, because Eliott is the smartest guy he knows, and there’s no way in hell he just forgot about it all. And even if he is kind enough to not mention the kiss — just as he was kind enough to kiss Lucas back, briefly, there by the gates, before he turned around and stepped out of sight — they still both know it happened.

Lucas goes through periodical stages of either wanting to erase the kiss from his memory entirely or thinking about it non-stop for days on end.

He knows Eliott only kissed him back because he didn’t want to make a scene, or because he didn’t want to break Lucas’s heart further since it was falling apart already anyway. Lucas knows that. That’s the only explanation that makes sense, really, and he is okay with that. It’s what he eventually gave into, after hours and hours spent on thinking about it, replaying the act of it in his mind until it felt like just another thing he’s made up, until his lips throbbed with the memory.

He’d have to be stupid to hope for Eliott to love him back. He doesn’t. Eliott has never given him any real reason to believe in it, never promised him a thing. 

Eliott doesn’t love him back. If he did, a small, more naive part of Lucas’s mind reminds him from time to time, when he gets a bit too hopeful, when he focuses on the what-if scenarios too much, he would have said something. He would have said, wait for me, maybe, or do it again, or something equally earth-shattering, and wouldn’t have left Lucas at this goddamn airport with only a weak smile and a promise of a phone call. 

They’ve talked so, so many times, for hours and hours on end, and he never said a thing. Not once.

Lucas can recognise a dismissal when he sees one, is the thing. It’s clear enough.)

*

On Thursday, Eliott is stolen away.

”Sorry,” he says when Lucas calls him, asking for the plan for the day, ”my family’s coming over today. I tried to get out of it, but…you know how my parents are. We’re having a big dinner, and all.”

For what it’s worth, he doesn’t really sound pleased with it. It still does very little to dilute the heavy feeling suddenly there in Lucas’s gut.

”Oh,” Lucas says. ”Okay. I mean—”

It’s the kind of sentence that starts somewhere but ends nowhere. Lucas cuts himself off, and the awkwardness of it hangs in the air, stretches thin over the distance between Eliott and him. 

He isn’t upset. He isn’t. But he was excited about the day, maybe, about another couple of hours they’d get to spend together, the prospect of having Eliott within reach where he’s sure to stay, sure to stick around. They didn’t make any plans, but Lucas was hoping something would just fall into their hands like it always did, and that they would take it and make the best of it, anyway. 

But he’s forgotten, maybe, somewhere in the whirlwind of it all, about other people. Of course Eliott’s family wants to spend some time with him, too. Of course. It’s a given when Eliott is so easy to love, and by so, so many people, too. 

Lucas has been selfish, he realises, for thinking he can have Eliott only to himself.

”Have fun, then,” he says. His voice is suddenly something stuck between strung-too-tight and forcefully nonchalant, but over the phone, it doesn’t carry. ”Say hi to your parents from me.”

Eliott huffs.

”Sure,” he says, and it sounds like he’s smiling. Lucas imagines it, and it makes him feel a little better. ”I’ll keep you posted on all the most exciting stuff that’s happening.”

”Like what kind of cake your mom made, you mean.”

”And what my grandma is wearing,” Eliott adds, and Lucas can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him, then. On the other end of the line, Eliott chuckles, too, like he’s pleased. Like making Lucas laugh has been his plan all along, perhaps.

”You’re fucking impossible,” Lucas tells him, the stiffness gone from his voice just like that, and then, ”Okay.”

He spends the day in front of the TV, pretending to watch some talk show that Mika likes and in reality waiting for whatever message Eliott sends him next. It’s nice. His whole family seems to be there for him, grandparents and aunts and cousins, and god knows who else, and Eliott is grinning from ear to ear in every single photo he sends him. 

That’s good, Lucas thinks. It’s what Eliott deserves — all this love, all the affection. So many people missing him when he’s away, being so happy when he’s finally home.

A lot of people love him. Lucas is, in the end, only one of many.

*

(He doesn’t know when it happened. It’s as if Lucas blinked, forgot to pay attention for just a second, and there it was already, this feeling.

Or maybe there was never a specific moment at all. Maybe it happened somewhere between when they were kids, then scrawny teenagers, and then more. Between taking Eliott’s hand for the first time and never wanting to let it go, later. Eliott was the one to talk Lucas into riding his bike down the hill and the one to wipe his tears away afterwards, laughing a little. He was the person who showed him the stars, lay on the grass during hot, enveloping summer nights, mapping constellations out in the sky, and didn’t make fun of how childishly fascinated Lucas was by it. He was the person who snuck into closed playgrounds in the middle of the night with him, just for the thrill of it, and who later got grounded for it alongside. Eliott was the person who told him that there was nothing wrong about girls kissing other girls and boys kissing other boys. He was the first person to openly call Lucas’s father a fucking asshole when he left them, and was there to wipe Lucas’s tears away this time around as well.

Maybe that’s what did it. All those things, all at once.

But a small part of Lucas still wishes someone had told him, impossibly, before it happened — watch out, be careful, in a second, you’re going to fall in love.)

*

On Friday, they end up celebrating.

It is, to say the truth, Idriss’s idea. He comes over in the afternoon, with Yann and Sofiane in tow, and instead of a hello says, ”Eliott, we need to get drunk together,” and it all goes downhill from there. Their group is chaotic democracy at its finest, and it shows — Lucas’s weak attempts of refusal go unnoticed, and instead, a bottle of cheap wine gets pushed into his hand, someone makes drinks, someone else puts on some music, and that’s how it goes.

Lucas, honestly, doesn’t drink much. It’s a Friday night, and all his friends are here, and he’s having a good time, but then, there’s also this — he wouldn’t want to miss the way Eliott’s eyes shine in the lights of the party, wouldn’t want to miss the way he pushes his hair away from his forehead or how he throws his head back when he laughs. It’s Friday. On Sunday, Eliott is leaving. 

Lucas doesn’t want to miss a second of him still being here. He wants to remember it all.

It laces his thoughts with a weird sense of urgency, this sudden awareness of time. He finds a spot in the corner of the living room and just sits and looks, and his chest fills with something heavy, stinging. We have two days, he thinks as he swirls his overly sweet drink around in the plastic cup, amidst the heavy beat of music flooding the room, amidst the laughter and the clinking of glasses fitting right beside it, two days and then he leaves me again. 

It’s not fair to think this way. Lucas knows. It’s not like he’s the only one who misses Eliott, or like Eliott doesn’t miss him in return just as much. But he lets himself give in to it, just for a second — missing Eliott already, even when he’s still here, right across the room talking to Arthur, his hair a mess, a bottle of beer in his hand. Lucas doesn’t know what he’ll do when he has to, inevitably, watch Eliott leave again. Stand there at another fucking airport, with their history coming full circle, with his heart breaking again, just like the first time around.

Their eyes lock, then, over the crowd. Eliott smiles at him, his grin wide and genuine and happy, and Lucas tries to smile back in the same manner, wipe away whatever stupid feelings have surfaced on his face, maybe, but he doesn’t think he’s quick enough. Eliott’s smile gets weaker. Something like worry creeps up into his features, etches itself in between his eyebrows.

Lucas gets up from his seat before Eliott can make his way over to him, pushes his way to the bathroom and locks the door, stares at himself in the mirror for a long time, presses his palms to his face when his eyes start to sting.

*

(He wants Eliott to stay. 

He wants a miracle to happen. He wants Eliott to be here, to be close, wants to be able to see him every day, the lines of his smile when he’s happy and the downturn of his mouth then he’s sad, he wants him to be here tomorrow, and the week after that, and later, and later. Lucas wants it all. 

He is a selfish person. He knows that. That’s why he kissed Eliott back then in the first place. Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, when he’s sick with sadness and the hollow feeling in his chest, he thinks about asking Eliott to come back. Asking Eliott not to go. All the things he’s never going to say out loud because they would only make matters worse, would only make Eliott hurt. Lucas knows he is happy over there in New York. But it doesn’t stop him from thinking about clutching his hand and saying, please, please just stay. For me.

At least in his own imagination, he’s enough for Eliott to stay. It doesn’t exactly make anything better, but it’s all he has.)

*

On Saturday, something between them shifts.

Lucas misses the exact moment it happens, to tell the truth. He is busy with other things.

Eliott comes over around noon, with tiredness from last night still written into the lines of his face but with his eyes sparkling and with a small smile on his lips. The weather is kind of shitty, he tells Lucas, running a hand through his hair as he steps into the apartment, and Lucas notices then that his hair is a little wet like it’s raining outside, or just starting to. It sticks to his forehead a bit. Lucas fights the urge to reach out and brush the stands away, bites on his lip, and only turns his eyes away when Eliott, shrugging off his jacket and kicking down his shoes, raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

Lucas doesn’t want to answer it. Instead, he says the first thing that comes to his head. ”Wanna watch something, then?”

Eliott says yes because of course he does, and then it goes like this — they sprawl out on the couch and fight over the blanket just a little, and Lucas lets Eliott pick the movie. The rain is playing an uneven rhythm on the windows, one-two-three, irregular and barely there. He leans into Eliott a little more than he has to but not as much as he really wants to, and Eliott only hums quietly, doesn’t turn his eyes away from the screen. His arm winds around Lucas’s waist, firm, bring them close together where Eliott runs warm, from shoulder to hip.

Lucas keeps thinking, this is our last day. 

It’s not a bad way to spend it. Somewhere in a small, quiet corner of his heart, Lucas is grateful for it. It’s nice, almost unfairly so, to be able to lean into Eliott and share his warmth, make sure he’s still right here, listen to his voice when he says, from time to time, ”Look at this scene, Lu,” or, ”Now, now, pay attention.”

Lucas is. Not to the movie, really, but to everything else — the way Eliott smells like the rain and fresh air and cheap cologne Lucas bought him last year for his birthday. The way he sounds like he always does. The way the fabric of his shirt folds over his collar bones and how shadows settle in the hollow of his throat.

There are very few things in the world that Lucas would want more than he wants this.

*

And when it gets dark — after they’ve watched another movie and stuffed their faces with pizza and after Mika and Lisa came home and joined them in the living room, after they argued over Eliott’s terrible music taste and laughed over how familiar it was, too, it’s time for Eliott to go home.

Lucas is scared of it, like a child. He is scared of opening the door and letting Eliott go and letting the world happen to him, a world Lucas is barely present in, a world somewhere far away. But then Eliott is already getting up from the couch and saying his goodbyes to Lisa, letting Mika hug him, and Lucas trails behind him and watches it, then watches him put on his shoes and jacket and get ready to walk out just like that. 

”So,” he says, and if his throat suddenly feels too tight, nobody has to know, ”I’ll see you tomorrow?”

It’s all they have left. They both know that because it’s not like it’s a secret, really. The whole day today, they haven’t spoken a word about Eliott leaving tomorrow, but they both know what is going to happen — Lucas will go to the airport with him, say his goodbyes, try not to cry too much and probably fail, and Eliott will smile at him with his stupid, unbelievable, gorgeous smile and hug him like he never wants to let him go even though it is not true and then leave. 

In the doorway, Eliott hesitates.

Maybe it’s because too many of Lucas’s thoughts are showing on his face. Maybe it’s easier to read him than it usually is, than it was yesterday in the lights of the party. Lucas waits for an answer, but it doesn’t come, and there’s a suddenly tension-heavy moment that passes between them. Eliott just keeps looking at him. Lucas doesn’t know what to do about it.

And then, Eliott says, ”Do you want to walk me home?”

Lucas hears Mika laugh from the living room where he and Lisa are still watching something on TV. The rain is still drumming on the windows, a staccato. Outside, it’s probably cold and windy, and if he goes with Eliott, he won’t be back for another two hours, probably. They both have to get up early tomorrow. It’s very late.

”Sure,” Lucas says, grabbing his own jacket from the hanger. ”Let’s go.”

*

They walk in relative silence for about 2 minutes, when Eliott suddenly grabs Lucas’s hand and pulls him in a different direction and onto a road that, Lucas is pretty sure, doesn’t lead to Eliott’s apartment. 

”Hey,” Lucas says, almost stumbling over the cobblestones of the dark street, ”what are you doing?”

Eliott’s hand is warm in his, and firm, and his grip is strong. He laces their fingers together. Lucas tells himself that it is not the reason his heart does something weird in his chest, that it’s because of the dark, because of the late hour.

”I wanna show you something,” Eliott says, pulls him along, rounds a street corner. ”Come on, it’s not far.”

”Weren’t you going back home?”

”I don’t want to go back home.” The words have a weird quality to them. Lucas wants to ask, but then Eliott adds, a bit quieter, ”not yet.”

So they go. How could Lucas complain, really, if he gets to hang around Eliott for just a while longer, have him all to himself, selfishly and privately, hold his hand and let himself get involved in another one of Eliott’s strange ideas like it’s the old times, still? So Lucas lets Eliott drag him along, only grips his hand tighter and doesn’t say a word. 

It’s Eliott’s last evening here, and somehow, he chose to spend it with Lucas, with Lucas alone. Whatever it means, Lucas will take it.

*

Eliott brings him, apparently, to a closed playground.

”Wait,” Lucas says as he stands in front of it, as Eliott finally lets go of his hand in favour of wrestling with the lock on the gate instead, fighting it until it gives up and the door squeaks open, ”Eliott, seriously?”

”What?” Eliott says and just steps inside. He sounds like he’s smiling. ”You scared? It’s just a playground, Lu.”

”This is illegal,” Lucas informs him but goes in anyway, closes the door with the smallest sound. Apart from that, and their whispers, everything is very quiet. ”Just so you know.”

Eliott chuckles, ”I’m aware,” and then, walking backwards, when the light of the streetlamp catches in his eyes and sets his gaze on fire, he says, ”Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”

And whatever response Lucas could make, it dies on his tongue, just like that. Maybe it’s, he thinks with his heart hammering a bit too quickly against his ribcage, actually for the better. 

They find a pair of swings that aren’t, miraculously, wet from the rain somehow, and sit down there. For a second, Lucas feels like he’s in a movie of sorts, the kind that Eliott likes to watch best. It doesn’t feel real, between one beat of his heart and the next, this whole scene — the rain, the fresh air, the stars in the sky. How the streetlamp casts a faint light that doesn’t reach quite to where they are. How he’s allowed, somehow, to sit here with Eliott, the same beautiful, unbelievable person he’s known his whole life.

He asks, ”Why are we here?”

”Do you remember,” Eliott says in response, and when Lucas looks over at him, he’s watching the starts, his fingers wrapped around the chain of the swing, ”when we came here when we were kids? When you were, like, twelve?”

Lucas remembers. It is the same place, he realises suddenly, now when he properly thinks about it and pays attention. The three big oaks to his right are still here, and the fence seems to still be painted the same jarring, chipping-off red, or at least that’s what it looks like in the light of the streetlamp. They used to come here sometimes, when they were younger. Once, Lucas took his dad’s pocket knife and carved an ”L+E” into the wood the fence was made of, not really understanding what the action meant, back then.

”Is this where you took me at midnight that one time and then we both got grounded for the next five years?” Lucas asks, and doesn’t expect it when Eliott laughs, doesn’t expect the way it rings in the night and falls into it, makes the stars seem a little brighter.

”Yeah,” Eliott tells him, ”yeah, that’s the place.”

He sounds happy. He sounds genuine. He sounds like everything is alright, like it’s just another night spent hanging around with a friend, like it’s one of so many nights they spent together ad not much more, and Lucas suddenly…can’t take it. It’s like a wave that sweeps him up and drags him under, and he can’t do it. Something blooms in his chest and makes it too tight to breathe properly. He looks away from Eliott’s profile, feels like he’ll break if he doesn’t.

A moment passes. Lucas feels like his lungs are filled with lead. 

And then, quietly, Eliott says, ”I don’t want tomorrow to happen.”

Lucas snaps his head back up, surprised. For a second, he thinks he imagined it. With how quiet it was, and how stray, that wouldn’t be impossible, he thinks. But then Eliott turns his face away from the sky and looks at Lucas instead, and even if he did sound happy just minutes ago, he doesn’t look like it now. 

”That’s why I didn’t want to go back home yet,” he tells Lucas, like a confession. There’s something muted in his eyes. ”I don’t want tomorrow to come.”

Lucas swallows. 

”What,” he tries, forces a corner of his mouth to lift in a desperate attempt at covering up the tremor in his voice, ”aren’t you excited to go back to New York?”

It’s only half a joke and half a genuine question. Eliott answers it with a shrug that looks heavy.

”Not really. I mean,” he says, and Lucas expects him to backtrack, then, just maybe, for only a second. Start talking about how New York isn’t that bad after all. About how much he’s learning, about how it’s just difficult, is all. But then he says, ”it’s great, but. There’s someone at home I’m going to miss a lot.”

Something in Lucas’s chest quivers. He tries to smother it. ”Idriss, I bet.”

Eliott smiles at that, softly. His eyes crinkle at the corners. 

”You,” he says. ”You.”

And, see — Lucas knew that. He’s known.

It doesn’t make anything easier. 

He turns his eyes away. He wants to say, me too, me too, I’m going to miss you, too. He wants to say, then don’t go, please don’t go, please just stay. He wants to stand up and take the two steps that separate them and wrap Eliott in his arms and don’t let him go, stay with him right here until the rain stops and the sun rises. He wants to kiss him, like back then. Lucas wants so, so much.

It burns in his chest like embers of a fire that should have died long ago. Maybe that’s why he says, ”We’re not going to talk about it, then?”

A pause. ”About what?”

”Me and you,” Lucas replies, then swallows. He takes a breath, tries to steady himself, and then finally says, ”That I kissed you, back then. At the airport.” And when Eliott doesn’t say anything to that, Lucas adds, quieter, ”I think we should talk about it.”

His throat is tight. He’s clutching the chains of the swing so forcefully that they’re digging into his palm. 

Me and you, he said, but there is no such thing, really. That’s what Eliott is going to tell him. No ”L+E” even though it’s carved somewhere into the playground fence, even though the hope of it is etched into Lucas’s stupid heart. He’s sick of hoping for things that will never be true, tired of making so many mistakes, but he can’t help it. He can’t help it.

Eliott is silent. Lucas is afraid of what he’d see if he looks at him, so he just keeps his eyes where they are. He keeps staring at his own shoes, barely visible against the dark background of the grass under his feet. They weren’t supposed to bring it up, he knows. They were supposed to brush it off as inconsequential, lock it somewhere in the corner of their minds and not revisit, pretend it never happened, forget entirely. Maybe that’s what Eliott did, after all. Perhaps the memory of it got pushed to the side, with so many other things going on in his life, with so many different people, new places, better things to pay attention to than Lucas and his stupidity.

For a second, shame burns in his veins like a flame. 

Then, Eliott stands up.

He’s going to go, Lucas’s mind says, and suddenly his breathing needs two tries before it goes anywhere. He’s going to say, don’t come to the airport tomorrow, and he’s going to go. You used up your time. You should have stayed quiet.

It’s true. It’s all true.

Except Eliott doesn’t leave.

He takes two steps, instead, and then crouches in front of Lucas, and before Lucas can register what’s happening, through his loud mind and aching heart, Eliott is unwrapping Lucas’s fingers from around the swing chains and taking his hands in his own. His grip is tight. His hands are warm. 

”Lucas,” he’s saying, ”tell me why you did it. Tell me why you kissed me.”

It doesn’t make sense, but in response, he says, ”You remember, then,” and it comes out weak.

Eliott’s hands tremble in his, minutely, but it’s so slight it might as well only be his imagination. That’s what Lucas writes it off as. 

”Of course I remember,” Eliott says. ”Of course.” And then, brushing Lucas’s knuckles with his thumbs in a gesture that is probably meant to be consoling, he repeats, ”Why?”

For a moment, Lucas doesn’t say anything. 

He’s thought about it so many times. So many times, it was right there on his tongue, and he always kept it in. All his I love you’s, all the things he couldn’t let Eliott hear because it was just Lucas and his stupid, naive heart talking, because it would ruin the best thing he’s ever had. Lucas is not ready to lose it now. He’s not.

But if Eliott’s tight grip is anything to go by, or the way he intertwines their fingers, or the way he doesn’t take his eyes off Lucas at all, then maybe he knows already. Maybe he knows. Lucas isn’t sure what to believe anymore, and it hardly matters anyway, right, hardly matters when Eliott’s going to leave tomorrow anyway, fuck off for another 6 months or so, and Lucas will have to pick his broken heart back up and piece it together nevertheless, just like last time. 

It’s a heartbreak either way, no matter the reason. 

”You know why,” he finally says. It feels like a confession, but of a different sort. ”You know why, Eliott.”

Eliott brushes his knuckles again. ”Tell me.”

And just like that — Lucas closes his eyes and says it.

”Because I’m in love with you,” he says. It feels so raw on his tongue that he feels weak with it. And then again, ”I’m in love with you. I have been in love with you for ages. I loved you when we were kids, and I love you now, and I will love you tomorrow when you get on that fucking plane and leave, and that’s just what it is, Eliott, I’m really—” A breath. ”I love you. I’m so sorry.” 

He keeps looking at his shoes, still, at the same patch of grass. His inhale, the exhale, then inhale again, are all shaky.

”I kissed you because you were leaving, and I didn’t know when I would see you again,” Lucas continues, a little despite himself, but once the words are out there, there’s nothing he can do. ”I kissed you because you were still here, and I missed you already. And because I love you.” He swallows. His throat feels tight. ”That was the main reason.”

They weren’t supposed to talk about it, but here it is. No take-backs; game over. Eliott knows, now. That’s okay. Lucas will get through it, somehow, like he got through many other things. It’s what he tells himself, biting down on his lip so that it stops quivering, listening to the rush of blood in his head and the too-quick beating of his heart. Eliott isn’t saying anything, but Lucas doesn’t expect him to. There’s not much left to say, really.

And then, a shift.

”Lucas,” Eliott is muttering in the next second, and he’s pulling Lucas’s hands closer to himself, closer to his face, and then Lucas watches, dazed, as he presses his lips to Lucas’s knuckles, once, twice, then, again and again, a kiss after a kiss. ”I thought you— I didn’t—”

It has stopped raining, Lucas notes with a tiny part of his mind. He has, suddenly, no idea what’s happening. 

”I thought you didn’t say anything because—” Eliott tries and gets stuck, and in the meager light, he looks…unlike himself, a little. Wide-eyed, breathless, with a few damp strands of his hair stuck to his forehead. His gaze is suddenly so intense it is almost a physical thing. ”You never—” And then like he can’t help himself, Eliott asks, voice caving in, ”Please say it again.”

Lucas blinks at him. He feels like the world has stopped, somehow. Like the time is frozen. ”What?”

”Say it again,” Eliott repeats, and something in his voice changes, then. He’s looking straight at Lucas, with his eyes bright. They’re still holding hands. ”Why you kissed me.”

”I love you,” Lucas tells him, again, just as true as before. His heart is beating too fast.

And Eliott just closes his eyes and presses the back of Lucas’s hand to his lips again, warm and unexpected, and then, when he smiles, Lucas feels the curve of it right against his skin.

”God,” Eliott whispers, barely audible. ”Fuck.”

And then, before Lucas can say anything, Eliott is suddenly untangling their fingers and something passes in his eyes, a notion, and then he’s reaching over and he’s cupping Lucas’s face in his hands, right there at the playground, in the middle of the night and—

When Eliott kisses him, it feels like coming home. 

It’s warm and sweet and the angle is a little off, and it’s nothing like the first time but it’s also exactly like the first time, and Lucas melts into it and he’s kissing Eliott. He’s kissing Eliott. Eliott is kissing him — slow and shy at first, then growing comfortable, and then Lucas is parting his lips and lets Eliott deepen the kiss, lets the thrill of it push all the air out of his lungs. He curls his fingers into the fabric of his jeans when Eliott angles his head. They’re kissing — slow and unhurried and like they have all the time they need, even when they don’t, really. But here, in the dark, with the warmth of Eliott’s lips and the burn of hope coiling in Lucas’s chest, it’s easier to believe.

And then, when they part, Eliott is smiling wider than Lucas ever remembers him to.

”I thought you didn’t say anything because— I thought it was an impulse, then,” he tells him, leans his forehead against Lucas’s, and his eyes are closed. His hands slide down to Lucas’s neck, and he traces the line of Lucas’s jaw with his thumb, gentle. ”That you did it because you didn’t want me to go. That you thought it would make me stay.”

There is a question hiding somewhere in the sentence. Lucas answers it, feeling dazed. Feeling breathless.

”I did want you to stay,” he says, and then, ”I do. But the kiss wasn’t meant to be a bargaining card.”

Eliott huffs out a laugh. His eyes are still closed. ”Why didn’t you say anything, then?”

”Why didn’t you?”

And then Eliott does open his eyes, and even after knowing him for practically his whole life and loving him for almost equally as long, Lucas is not ready for what he sees — all the blinding happiness. All the breathtaking storm of something he’s almost afraid to name.

”If I did, and you told me what you did just now,” he says, ”I would’ve come back here on the next plane.”

Eliott’s still tracing the line of his jaw. For a heartbeat, Lucas just looks at him. ”Why?”

”Because I love you,” Eliott says, smiles that blinding smile again, leans into Lucas like he can’t help it, like he can’t wait, kisses his temple, his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth. ”Because I love you, too.”

*

(Later, they will go. Leave the playground and close the gate behind, unnoticed and unseen, like they were never there in the first place, like nothing ever happened. They will hold hands and pull each other along the empty streets, then kiss on the doorstep of Eliott’s apartment building where Eliott will push Lucas against the cold brick wall and angle his chin up and kiss him again, again until Lucas loses track of time. Later, they will say ”goodnight” and Eliott will complain, just a little, about how he still needs to pack, and Lucas will laugh at him quietly, laugh until Eliott kisses the smile off his face.

But now, it’s this —

”I would stay,” Eliott tells him, still clutching his hands like it’s a lifeline, ”if you asked me to.”

For a second, Lucas wants to. The possibility of it is blinding — how he could just say two words, and Eliott would stay for him, right there, easy as that. He can taste the words on his tongue. No heartbreak, he thinks, but the opposite of it, for once. 

But in the end, he says, ”I won’t ask you to.” That’s all.

Because, you see — it wouldn’t be fair. Lucas is selfish, but he’s not cruel. He knows how much New York means to Eliott. He can’t ask Eliott to give it up, his future and his dreams and all the bright ideas he has, just because he’s going to miss him, because this is not how love works. And Lucas is no expert, really, but he is learning something new about love every day, it seems like, and tonight, dizzy with relief and throbbing with how thoroughly kissed he’s just been, he learns his — love is not selfish. Love is not painless. Sometimes, love means letting someone go and hoping they will come back.

”I won’t ask you,” he repeats when Eliott doesn’t say anything, only looks. ”But I will wait if you want me to.”

Something passes over Eliott’s face. Like understanding. His gaze softens, warms up.

”Thank you,” he says, and it’s enough of an answer.)

*

On Sunday, Eliott leaves.

Lucas goes to the airport with him, stands there amongst the crowd of people, and only has eyes for Eliott anyway. Eliott, with his heavy suitcases packed in a hurry, with his hair messy and his eyes a little tired and his smile a little crooked. They are, at least in this aspect, mirror reflections of each other — it’s the same, the way they look at each other, the way they hold hands, the way Eliott wraps him in a hug, bone-crushing, and Lucas melts into it and just holds Eliott for a second, wishes for the time to slow down for just a moment. Just a while.

”I’ll miss you,” Eliott says, presses the words into Lucas’s temple, ”so fucking much, you have no idea.”

And Lucas smiles so that he doesn’t cry. ”I do,” he says. ”I do, actually.”

Eliott kisses him goodbye, and the kisses are all like punctuation marks between him saying, I’ll call you when I get there, and I’ll see you soon, I promise, and I love you. His voice quivers a bit as he says it all. Lucas thinks, unreasonably, about ”L+E” carved somewhere into a wooden fence.

And then Eliott goes. It will be a while before they see each other again, but it’s okay.

Lucas can wait for him.

[browneyedmissy]

When Casey Met Rafael

Pairing: Rafael Aveiro x f!MC

Summary: Even in different timelines, they always seem to find each other.

Author's Note: I love all the Raf angst that we as a fandom have produced but here is a series of three meet cutes because we gotta have some fluff to sustain us.

-

Part I: Wrong Door!AU

The last thing she expected when she opened the door was the hunk that stood in front of her.

For a moment, Casey thought her heart might stop as she looked up at the guy. Surprise crossed his eyes as she deduced she wasn't the one he expected and she couldn't help but bite her lip when she noticed the blush in his cheeks.

"I, uh, I think I'm at the wrong door. I'm looking for my friend, Bryce Lahela."

"He's across the hall." She replied. He was still looking right at her as if he couldn't hear her so she pointed for him.

He blinked and half turned, sheepishly running his hand through his hair.

"Thanks, uh-"

"Casey."

"Casey." He repeated, a smile wide on his face. "Oh! I mean uh, my name's not Casey, I'm Raf, short for Rafael-"

"Oi Case, have you- oh there you are." The door opened and Casey's neighbor came bustling out. He stopped when he spotted his friend standing at his neighbor's door. "I'm trying to get Raf to move into the second bedroom. Can you help me think of some reasons?"

"I can think of one." Rafael said automatically, eyes never leaving Casey's face.

-

Part II: Dressing Room!AU

Casey carefully observed herself in the mirror, turning and glancing at herself from different angles.

"Hey Sienna, do you like-"

She froze as her friend was nowhere to be found. Instead, there was a guy sitting on the bench surprised by the sudden movement.

"Uh, you're not Sienna."

"There was a girl with a braid who left to go get more dresses." He offered. "You look very pretty, if you were going to ask for her opinion."

She felt her cheeks flush as she observed him. He was very handsome, she noted and his compliment seemed extremely sincere.

"Thanks. Sienna and I are going to an event for the hospital and we have to look presentable."

He grinned at her. "You'll definitely catch some eyes for sure."

Casey was about to ask for his name when another curtain opened. Casey's jaw dropped- the girl was beautiful and her heart dropped a little as she addressed the mysterious man.

"Rafael, I can't reach the zipper." The girl complained as she turned around. "Help me, please."

Casey deflated a little as he stood up and zipped up the back of the girl's dress.

"Ooh, she looks pretty." The girl said, pointing towards her. "I couldn't pull off that dress though, not the way she does."

"Uh, thanks?" Casey said awkwardly.

"It was a compliment! You're gorgeous." She declared before turning to Rafael. "Don't you think so, cuz?"

She stressed the last word with a pointed look at Casey as Rafael looked at the ground, blushing. Casey bit her lip and decided to take a chance.

"I'm Casey. Would you, uh, like to go with me to this event tomorrow?"

"Rafael. If that's the dress you're wearing, then one hundred times, yes." He grinned.

-

Part III: Commuter!AU

She always had a book with her on the subway.

The first time he noticed her there were tears running down her face. He was about to ask her what was wrong when he saw that she was reading Where the Red Fern Grows. She was braver than him, he noted. He himself couldn't get through Old Dan's death without sobbing.

When he had seen her with Ella Enchanted in her hands he had gone to the library to check out the book and enjoyed how charming the heroine was.

She sat with Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and when he went home and pulled it off his bookshelf he wondered if she had dreamed of receiving a golden ticket when she was young.

He felt a little connected to her reading the books she read. He often wondered why she chose the books that she did. Was she a teacher? Was she rereading them or discovering them for the first time?

He usually spotted her at least once a week. She was always on the train before him, headphones in and focused on her book and left a stop before. She also seemed to have an affinity for the last car which usually was less crowded and he started to look forward to the potential of seeing her.

He liked watching her read because she made faces as she did so. He wasn't sure if she was aware of it and it was a little endearing to him that her emotions just seemed to spill out.

One day, he caught her eye as she glanced up from her book and she gave him a smile that made his heart thump.

He was about to work up the nerve to talk to her when they arrived at her stop. She got up before he could say anything and he silently cursed himself, making the resolve to talk to her next time he saw her. Glancing at where she sat, he noticed she had left something behind.

"Oh, miss you left your book-" He called but the doors were already closed. Frowning he picked up the book and noted that there was a sticky note on the cover.

My name is Casey, here's my number.

You can give me my book back in person.

He couldn't keep the grin off his face the rest of the way home.

[lumiereswig]

hey all so i just saw ‘hadestown’ and feel duty bound to tell you fools everything about it because i, too, remember what it is to be lonely and on the internet and too poor to see some snazzy broadway shit

there’s no fanfare or anything. the show opens with all the cast coming on—and obviously the audience is going buckwild, especially with amber gray. (u can tell there’s a lot of great comet fans in the audience.) only once everybody is settled does hermes really TAKE THE STAGE.

and boy does he take it. sassy lil shit knows he owns it and just stands there taking in his audience, before flipping his jacket back with dramatic flare (to show his SNAZZY-ASS SILVER THREADED VEST) and starting to sing. (cue noisy wah-wah trombone.)

the setting is p. clearly a bar; orpheus p. clearly works there. he’s like being artsy with the napkins and shit, blossoming them into roses. eurydice is a traveler; she carries with her, wrapped in brown silk, an alter candle that she lights. (after sassing hermes into giving her a match to light it with.) eurydice balances her candle with the paper rose orpheus later makes and gives to her.

orpheus is pretty childlike and dreaming in this version. (not the cocky boy from the off broadway production.) he comes off as kind of lanky and awkward and not quite there; naive is definitely a defining adjective for him. everything about him is soft and gentle and in a dreaming world.

eurydice is kind of a classic tough girl but she’s got a strand of helplessness to her. she puts on a show of not being impressed by orpheus until he sings her the song he’s working on, and manages to bring a rose into his palm.

environmental collapse is a HUGE theme thru this—bigger than i thought it would be. eurydice’s first lines are about how there’s no spring or autumn anymore; everything is winter or summer, too hot or cold to live. the fates sing of the winds—the fates sort of torment her throughout this—but climate change looms as a dread through the show. orpheus hopes his song will bring back summer, put the seasons back in tune.

anyway, everyone’s hanging out at a new orleans style bar. even hades and persephone are there, though above it all in a balcony of their own

did i mention bradley king is a god among lighting designers?

because that will come back a lot

anyway hermes is sort of an uncle figure to orpheus; he was friends with orpheus’s mother, a muse. as soon as orpheus sees eurydice he wants to talk to her, and hermes advices him not to ‘come on too strong’—

and well that plan goes immediately out the window : ‘come home with me!’ [eurydice: ’what?’]

orpheus is just intensely awkward. skinny pale child doesn’t know how to interact with the world

they have kind of an argumentative relationship from the start—they don’t face each other very often; there’s a push and pull as he longs for her and she, kneejerk tough girl, tries not to go for this. but the rose from his palm enchants her, and she holds on to it. ‘you have to finish your song.’

GODDDD AMBER GRAY IS JUST LIIIIIIIFE. her persephone is a total lush and frequently staggers through act 1. she also has a fabulous white coat that gradients to green at the sleeves. when she dances you can’t tell if she’s about to pass out or float up to the ceiling.

when orpheus gives the toast he’s just so awkward it’s appalling

(and everyone toasts except eurydice)

hades wears sunglasses when he comes to the world above to bring persephone back to the world below. he descends from his balcony to get her, and brings her to the center of the stage—and then, oh, SHIT, there’s a fucking perfect round trap door right where they’re standing, and they descend below. (amber gray looking up to the slowly disappearing sky with the face of a martyr who’s used to the gig.)

winter’s hard. eurydice has to bust back out her old ass coat (instead of the winsome black slip thing and brown vest thing she was wearing), and the Fates, bitches as they be, try to fuckin rip it off her. (and succeed. the choreography looks like wind! also chairs and tables looked like they were floating earlier but i forgot to mention that.)

eurydice is trying to get ORPHEUS’S FUCKIN ATTENTION bout the fact they got no food and, uh, three bitchy old ladies dressed all in gray just took her coat, but he’s submerged in writing his song to bring back the weather. and while this is all going on, hades and persephone are having their age-old argument about how hell is too hot and too loud and IT AIN’T RIGHT, IT AIN’T NATURAL.

because, get this, after descending to hell they descended /back up/ into it, and u can tell cuz the lighting is fuckin genius. i’ll explain later except i won’t.

orpheus is just OUT OF IT and not hearing anything at all eurydice is tryin to fuckin say. (the tune keeps going wrong.) hades is sick of persephone not being with his electric shiny no-good shittiness and lays his eyes on eurydice as easy prey.

he puts on his sunglasses again and u know it’s bad news.

he talks her over and gives her her ‘ticket’—two silver coins that she momentarily holds up over her eyes as she looks at us, letting us know that this is some death imagery. she holds both hades’ coins and orpheus’s flower—and, making up her mind, calls out orpheus’s name one last time and descends into the underworld through that same miraculous trap.

and then, fuck me, the trap comes back up but just the red flower is on it. fuuuuuck meeeeeeee i may have wept.

orpheus finishes his damn song and hermes lets him know that hE FUCKED UP HIS WHOLE DAMN LIFE SHE GONE, BITCH, and orpheus sees the flower on the trap door and then he’s weeping, too.

and then we get to ‘wait for me’ and holy shit, y’all, i never been so fully into something in my life? it was so physically intoxicating i almost wanted to throw up. like, wonder as a liquid beverage. tHE LIGHTING? ? i fuckin felt awe on this earth today, i saw god and he’s lit by bradley king.

because! hades’ workers bring on these industrial metal lamps, and they hook them to the wires in the ceiling, and they SEND THEM SWINGING OUT INTO THE FUCKIGN AUDIENCE. they fuckin—they—they they they!—they fucking did! that! sent them swinging out in perfect rhythm and time, fully lit, swinging around orpheus and into the audience. and tHEN! THE FUCKIN SET! BEGINS TO GROW!!!

remember the first time u saw the nutcracker as a child and the growing christmas tree fuckin ripped ur world apart? it’s like that except times ten thousand

like it felt like. like the fuckin world was coming apart. the bar set is slowly ripping open and golden light is just searing into your eyeballs and the golden lamps are still swinging around orpheus and it literally felt like god had opened up a cold one and was just singing something horrible into being. it was wonder. i want to see it again.

like. stagecraft, babyyy

and u think act 1 will end on that because why would it nOT but no, we get ‘why we build the wall,’ which is a sort of chilling propoganda thing where everybody is facing forward and just telling back to hades whatever he’s yelling about, and persephone is there and i’m not sure why (like does she believe this? is she the unwilling consort? what’s the deal?)

and at the end eurydice comes in, and sort of picks up on the gestures everybody is doing—in that way everyone does when they come into a room and they want to vaguely pass as with it so they try to sync in to the general vibe. ‘uhh sure everyone’s waving their hands and talkin about walls so i guess i will too’, that kind of thing

hades shows her up to his office (the balcony door) to sign the papers. as soon as he’s gone, amber gray whips round to face the audience. ‘anybody want a drink?’

it’s intermission and i’m still trying to catch up on all the gasp-crying i started during ‘wait for me’

we also get an overpriced hadestown cup cuz get while the getting’s good, right?

back in act 2 and it’s our lady of the underground, ie amber gray in her exact outfit from above except instead of lurid green it’s savage black. (and instead of a bouncy curly brown wig it’s a black sparkly snood.) she dances and pivots and rivets her way through it, introducing the band, being winsome savage bite-your-face-off-and-offer-to-share-it-with-you amber gray. she’s got a neat little ring-shaped silver flask that hangs from her hand like a purse, and i want one.

eurydice emerges from the office dressed in the same overalls as the other workers—though she looks sexy af in them, ngl—and sings ‘flowers,’ and talks about how nobody down here looks at her, and how it’s like they don’t even see her. the underworld is not what she thought it would be. she wants to go home but can’t. she can’t remember orpheus’s name.

uNTIL HE SHOWS UP! Punk ass bitch made it, somehow, and stumbles onto the stage with guitar in hand. she knows his name immediately. but she can’t leave, because she signed her soul away.

u knew all this. it’s classic myth. did i mention patrick page as hades sounds like the combined harmonics of every rumbling truck on the george washington bridge every time he decides to sing?

orpheus has A Moment™ where it’s like, if this is what the world is, if people sign their names up for shit and i can’t save them, i guess i’ll just go home. but he talks himself out of it (apparently his magic vocal cords work on him, too), and actually talks himself (and the stone workers of the underworld!) into activism.

amber gray and patrick page share a duet i’ve never heard before, and it’s fine, and i think it still needs fine tuning cuz im not sure exactly how persephone feels about hades in this bit. it’s fine. what matters is that at the end of it, hades is FUCKED because rebellion is brewing.

he gets orpheus to sing his song. and holy shit, is it a doozy. holy shit, but were we all crying. hooooolyyy shiiiiiit.

holy shit.

when hades sings the refrain at the end, amber gray looks like she’s experiencing the most visceral, exquisite, heartfelt, heartbroken pain of her life. she literally bends as if she’s felt this pain in her stomach—this pain, this anguish over the song she hasn’t heard for so long from this one man she loved so well.

and when a rose blossoms from hades’s palm, persephone is both crying and laughing. it’s like the old times have bloomed again.

and then they dance.

also, should have mentioned earlier, it’s implied it’s not an og song orpheus is singing; he’s actually stumbled on an ancient one, perhaps one hades used to sing, and THAT’S why it’s so devastating—not just his talent and voice, but the memory of it, the memories it brings back. it’s an ancient song, almost a spell, that can heal the seasons.

hades and persephone hold each other close, nuzzling almost, and eurydice faces orpheus, and for a second u think it’s going to be ok because eurydice is so joyful and persephone and hades have healed. o & e  think they’re gonna leave. they think everybody can leave.

but nope, hades can’t have that. damned if he does, damned if he don’t—so he sets the test for orpheus, but u really get the sense that he’s not doing it from a sense of cruelty any more. it almost pains him to do this shit. but the rivet of steel in his character won’t let himself become king of nothing.

hermes presents the challenge: ‘ive got good news, and bad.’ orpheus keeps asking hermes if it’s a trick; hermes keeps saying it’s a test, a trial. (it’s really a TRAGEDY.)

persephone is wooed by the fact that hades even let them try.

ugh, doubt comes in is. devastating. every single person in the audience audibly gasped—u FELT the air leave the room—when he turned around. we all genuinely believed it would end differently this time. we thought it would. i knew it was coming and i still was DEVASTATED.

eurydice is, too. she started as the doubter, and she had so much BELIEF they were gonna get out of this. ‘it’s you—it’s me—’ she says. she’s already sinking through the trap. fuckin hell, they were on the last few steps. i’m still fuckin emotional about it

orpheus just crashes to the edge of the trap, staring down into the abyss. hermes is singing, softly, about how it’s an old song—it’s an old tale—it’s a tragedy. and then he roars—in a way that cheers me up—WE’RE GONNA SING IT AGAIN.

because that’s the power of it! it happened, it was horrible, but we’re going to SING about it—and maybe change the ending this time—the way orpheus tried to, when he sang his way to hades and sang his way to the stones. it’s the singing of the event that matters, that might matter.

and eurydice is back at the bar, wanting matches—orpheus is back at the bar, seeing her for the first time across the room—and the story goes on, like the seasons .fuckin incredible. everybody in the auditiorium now is tear-stained.

APPLAUSE APPLAUSE APPLAUSE

lasted for like.....seven minutes?? it took ages and the actors were just soaking it up, looking exhausted, because DAMN it is exhausting to chart anguish and joy and victory and determination and love in two hours and 25 minutes

and then hermes shushes the house—because of course he does—and amber gray leads the final toast. it’s acoustic—it sounded to me like she wasn’t even using her microphone? it wasn’t brash at all, just raw—and a simple, honest, kind of homespun way to end the show. and it finally ended, and we cheered one last time, and then we went home sobbing and shaking and wanting to do the whole damn thing again

it was great and the stagecraft was some of the best i’ve ever seen and i’ve literally felt maybe only 3 productions like this, where this emotional shit is actually sitting in your lungs, and u should go, the end

[loganscanons]

🎵

Ain't nothing please me more than you // Ah, home, let me come home / Home is wherever I'm with you

Home – Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes

The scrapbook was a gift from Keenan, memories pieced together and bound into one book, an anniversary gift after three years together. The cover was a print of an old map in shades of pale blue, yellow, green, and brown. Each page within the scrapbook featured at least one photo; many featured two, all labelled with their respective dates. The margins were filled with stickers and quotes, movie stubs and event tickets, pressed flowers. The gift had made Eva tear up, despite her misgivings about photographs of herself. Photos were uncomfortably like paintings, people frozen in time. But these photos, so familiar and personal, surrounded by mundane tokens of life, didn’t elicit the same discomfort as a portrait.

Eva sat with her knees up in bed, the scrapbook resting on her thighs. Beside her, Keenan and Xavier both slept heavily, Keenan’s chest pressed against Xav’s back, his arm wrapped around Xav. It was well after midnight, and she should be sleeping too, but unpleasant dreams had woken her up. The scrapbook, which she’d already flipped through a half-dozen times at this point, rested on her nightstand. Unable to fall back asleep, she sat up and turned the light beside her on to its dimmest setting, hoping it wouldn’t wake her boys. She opened the scrapbook, flipping through the pages.

Photo: Taken by Xavier. Keenan, on the left in the photo, is squinting his eyes, with his head turned up and his lips pressed together, trying not to smile. His hair is pulled back in a tight, poofy ponytail. He holds a small sandy-tan brown puppy, who squirms as she licks his chin, one ear flopped back, the other flopped forward.

Maggie had been so small then, just a few months old when they adopted her from the shelter. Xav was trying to catch her goofy puppy grin on camera as Keenan held her up. Before he could take the photo, Maggie had jerked her head to the right to enthusiastically give Keenan puppy kisses, licking his chin and trying to lick his mouth, but he turned his head before she could. Over those past two weeks, they’d been diligently telling her “kisses, no bites,” whenever she would nip with her sharp puppy teeth. The training had been effective, minimizing the little tooth marks she’d leave on her skin. But it may have been a bit too effective. She started to overcompensate, licking them any time she felt a burst of excitement. It would be something that would stick with her for the rest of her life. Any time they gave her attention, they could expect her to try to lick them.

Eva smiled, glancing to the corner of the room where Maggie was sleeping next to Cora on the large brown dog bed. She was on her back, with all four legs in the air. Gravity pulled her lips down, showing off her teeth. She looked ridiculous, as usual.

Photo: A selfie-angle photo taken by Xavier. From left to right: Xavier, Keenan, Eva. All three adults have their faces covered with a pale green facemask, mostly dry, with a few splotches still wet. Xavier is grinning, holding his hand up in a thumbs-up gesture. His hair is pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, any loose hairs pushed back by a neon pink headband. Keenan has his lips pushed forward in a kissy-face and he holds up two fingers in a peace sign. His headband is neon green and his hair is in small, tight braids. Eva’s head is tilted down, but she’s looking up. There is a book in her lap. Her hair is braided over her shoulder.

The spa nights had started as a fun way to relax, an excuse to spend time together when their schedules got hectic and stressful. Keenan took Eva to the nearest Lush store and spent what she thought was far too much money on face masks and bath bombs. When the face masks from Lush ran out, they started ordering new ones online, testing out masks both weird and mundane. Though they would’ve loved to have a spa night every week, life didn’t always allow for that, but they made sure to schedule it in at least once a month. They would put on a movie, or a tv show, or just some soothing music and chat as the masks dried. Sometimes they would lay a towel down on the bed and buff each other’s nails, painting on silky coats of polish. Inevitably, Eva would make a comment about Keenan’s nails, which seemed supernaturally perfect, never scraped, chipped, or damaged.

“You compliment my nails now, but you always complain when I cut them,” Keenan had said that night, his fingers spread out as Eva painted on a coat of sparkly green nail polish.

“That is because it is oddly loud and you leave the clippings everywhere, which is gross,” she replied, focusing on the small brush.

“I have thick nails! Havin nails like this isn’t all glamor. When I cut them, the clippings fly across the room,” Keenan argued. “It’s not my fault.”

Eva used the tip of her nail to scrape some wet polish from Keenan’s cuticle. “That is no excuse for being gross,” she said. “Cut them outside, then.”

“So, I have to be banished every time I cut my nails?” Keenan asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“At least I don’t leave my nail clippings in a pile on the nightstand,” Keenan said, rotating his torso to look pointedly at Xavier.

“Why are you implementing me in this?” Xavier asked, with mock offense and incredulity.

“That is also gross,” Eva agreed.

“I’m just here minding my business,” Xav said. “Leave me out of your weird argument.”

“Then do not be gross,” she said.

Xav sighed but shared an amused smile with Keenan.

Photo: Taken by a stranger at Yosemite National Park. From left to right: Xavier, Eva, Keenan. All three wear hiking clothes. Xavier’s hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and his face is unshaven. He wears forest green shorts, a pale blue tank-top, and hiking boots with white socks visible. He wears a gray backpack. Eva wears thick, mid-shin length maroon leggings, a long, gray t-shirt that reaches mid-thigh, black running shoes, and a forest green Yosemite hat. Her hair is in a thick braid down her back.  Keenan’s hair is shoulder length in micro-dreads, pulled back. He wears a khaki-colored visor, black shorts, gray sneakers, and a dark green t-shirt. He holds a large black water bottle in his left hand. His right arm is around Eva’s shoulders, his hand resting on her right shoulder. Eva has one arm around Keenan’s waist and the other around Xavier’s waist. Xavier’s has his left arm around Eva, his hand resting on her left hip. All three are smiling, showing their teeth. There is a waterfall behind them.

The three of them had been dating for about two years when Xavier and Keenan started planning the trip to Yosemite. Keenan had been before, years ago, as a teenager with his mom. He had some photos of the trip on his Facebook, which was a mostly forgotten profile, but Xavier, enchanted by all photography, had sifted through the old memories and asked Keenan about them.

The drive to Yosemite from Camp Jupiter wasn’t short, despite them both being in the same state, but given California’s size, the drive could have been much longer. They stayed in a white canvas-sided tent cabin, dusted with dirt and pollen, the wood door and floor painted green. The first day they’d gone hiking, Eva had brought neither sunglasses nor a hat, and had been miserable for the first quarter of the hike, as the rising sun blinded her. She had difficulty enjoying the scenery, as all she could think about was the sunhat she’d forgotten on her cot. As the sun beat down, making her dark hair hot against her head, she had the small comfort of knowing she’d at least remembered to cover her bare skin in sunscreen, giving extra attention to her cheeks and nose.

The boys noticed her squinting, her hand held over her eyes, at the same time, and both reached for their own hats. Xavier beat Keenan to it, fitting the Yosemite hat he bought in the gift shop when they’d arrived on her head.

“I’m okay,” Eva said, reaching to take the hat off and return it to Xav. Xav put his hand on top of her head, preventing her from taking it off. Before she could protest, he’d turned, camera in hand, ready to photograph the next thing that caught his eye.

When they had reached the waterfall, Xavier made Keenan and Eva pose in front of it. He had been standing, reviewing the photos with one eye closed against the sun, when a blonde woman wearing a loud neon patterned top had asked in an accent so stereotypically southern it was almost comical, “Do you want me to take one for you?” She drew out the “oo” in “you.”

Xavier had looked at her blankly for half a second before smiling and removing the camera strap from around his neck, pulling it over his head. The woman frowned at the camera, holding it close to her face with her nose wrinkled and her lip curled up as Xavier explained that she only needed to look through the small opening and push the one button.

“One of them fancy cameras,” she said. “I still use one of them disposable ones,” her laugh was more of a cackle. Once Xavier stood at Eva’s other side, the woman said, “Alrighty, smile y’all!”

Once they returned to their home in New Rome, Xavier edited his favorites of the photos the woman had taken and made one his phone background for three months. It was the same photo that Keenan had decided to put it the scrapbook.

Photo: Taken by Eva on Xavier’s camera. Part of her finger shows in the top right corner. Keenan is asleep on his back on the couch, with Xavier asleep on top of him. His lips are parted and his head rests on a blue and white tie-dye pillow. Xavier’s head rests on Keenan’s chest. One arm is at his side, squeezed against the couch cushion. His other hand hangs over the edge, resting on Cora’s side, who is asleep against the couch. Maggie sleeps on top of Xavier’s back, curled up like a donut.

While Eva had still been in bed that morning, Keenan and Xavier woke up to go on a hike before the sun baked the earth and made the weather unbearable. Xav had taken an online photography class recently and saved up to buy a couple new lenses. He wanted to test out his new equipment and camera knowledge on the rising sun. The photos turned out beautifully, and Keenan and Xavier got to enjoy one of their few summer hikes before the heat could scare them away.

Apparently, the hike had taken up quite a bit of energy, or perhaps they were impacted by the movie they stayed up late to watch the night before, or a mix of both. Once they got home, Eva got started on breakfast, but by the time she was finished, her boys had fallen asleep on the couch. They had been laughing, cuddling together, and petting Cora when Eva had gotten up to cook. In the short time it took her to make pancakes and eggs, they, and both the dogs, had fallen asleep. Maggie knew she wasn’t allowed on the furniture, but she must’ve seen Xavier’s back as the perfect place to settle down for a nap, and had hopped up, managing not to wake him up. It was a scene too perfect not to document.

Photo 1: Taken by Xavier. Keenan sits beside Eva in the left of the photo, his chin popped up in his hand, his elbow resting on the kitchen table as he looks at Eva with a loving smile. He wears a dark blue button-up. Eva wears a black velvet dress with a boat neckline. She wears dark red lipstick and mascara. Her hair is in a low, over-the-shoulder ponytail, in large curls. A round cake with white frosting and pink candles sits in front of her on a white ceramic cake stand atop a navy-blue woven placemat. “Happy Birthday, Eva” is written in red icing in cursive lettering. Eva is looking at the cake with a small smile, her face illuminated by the lit candles.

Photo 2: Taken by Keenan. Xavier stands behind Eva, leaning down so their faces are both in frame. He wears a pale blue button-up, with the top three buttons undone. Eva looks up at the camera through her lashes, smiling wider than in the first photo. The candlelight reflects in her brown eyes.

Photo 3: Taken by Keenan. Xavier sits in the seat that Keenan previously occupied. The candles are blown out. Xavier’s forefinger is pointed a few inches from Eva’s face, covered with a small dollop of smeared frosting. His eyes are squinted and his smile is wide with laughter. Eva’s mouth is open and her eyes are wide with shock. There is white frosting smudged on her cheek.

The three photos were spread across two pages, taken during Eva’s birthday celebration last year. Keenan and Xavier saved up to treat Eva to a night at a fancy French restaurant with a budget out of their usual price range. Opportunities to speak with a native French speaker were infrequent, but the restaurant offered her the chance, owned by a young woman who grew up in France. The food was great, and the company was even better.

When they got home, Keenan had a cake ready from a small bakery in New Rome. Rich dark chocolate with white buttercream frosting, a personalized “happy birthday” wish iced in red. Keenan lit each of the candles as Xavier retrieved his camera from their bedroom. He took a few photos before they left for the restaurant, then placed the camera on his nightstand, waiting for when they got home.

Majority of the photos in the scrapbook were taken by Xavier or at least set up by Xavier, as he was the one with the passion for photography, which meant the photos on their computer hard drives disproportionately featured Eva, Keenan, and the dogs. There were a couple impulsive photos by Eva, taken during moments she wanted to capture forever. A few of the photos, like two of them on the birthday spread, were taken by Keenan, when he felt Xavier really needed to be included in the immortalized memory. Xavier had leaned down beside Eva without complaint, then sat in Keenan’s vacated chair as they sang “Happy Birthday” to Eva.

Moments after the candle were blown out, Xavier swiped his finger through the frosting, eliciting a disapproving “Xavier!” from Eva. Before she could say anything else, he’d smeared the frosting on her cheek and burst into laughter at her appalled expression. Eva impulsively stuck a finger in the frosting and did the same to him, smearing it on his nose. Keenan had then snatched the cake away from them before it could turn into an all-out frosting war.

Photo: Taken by Xavier. The photo is of Keenan and Eva cooking breakfast, their backs facing the camera. The sun pours through the glass-sliding door, giving everything a yellow hue. Keenan is on the left in the photo, at the kitchen counter, looking at Eva. He wears no shirt, only gray plaid pajama pants. The black waistband of his boxers is visible above the pajama pants. His body blocks most of a plastic white cutting board that is covered with chopped fruits and berries. Eva stands at the blacktop stove, gesturing toward Keenan as she speaks, the other hand holding the handle of a black, Calphalon skillet. Beside her, in the far right of the photo, is a silver mixing bowl. At her feet, Cora lays with her head resting on her paws, ears swiveled forward.

Weekend mornings often had more elaborate breakfasts than a bowl of cereal or some toast. Any combination of pancakes, eggs cooked in various ways, hash, bacon, and sausage could be on the menu, with sides of fruit or freshly squeezed juice. Eva usually took the lead, acting as head chef of their home kitchen, with Keenan or Xavier helping. She rarely let both of her boys help, insisting the kitchen would get too crowded with all of them at the counters.

It was the embodiment of domestic bliss. Sunlight filtering into the kitchen as the sun rose slowly through the sky, highlighting the room with a yellowish hue. Two lovers cooking pancakes with their pet at their feet. As Xavier saw it, it was art in real time.

As Eva turned the page again, Keenan stirred beside her, not waking entirely, only partially conscious. Sleepily, he kissed Xav’s bare shoulder, then rolled onto his other side, facing Eva.

“Whattaya doin’?” he mumbled to her.

“Nothing,” she whispered, reaching down to run her fingers through his curls. “Go back to sleep.”

“Hmm,” Keenan hummed. His words barely discernable, he said through a sleepy haze, “Shou’ be sleepin’ too. ‘S late. You okay?”

“I’m fine, amour,” she said.

Eva didn’t want to wake him up enough to talk about her unpleasant dreams. She didn’t really want to talk about the dreams at all, but she knew if she didn’t turn out the light and try to sleep again, Keenan would wake up all the way, wanting to comfort her. With a sigh, she closed the scrapbook, placed it on the nightstand, and turned out the light. She settled down beside Keenan, snuggling closer as he wrapped his arm around her. On his other side, Xav rolled over in his sleep, draping his arm over Keenan’s body.

If she could choose anywhere in the world to be after a bad dream, this is where she would choose. Wherever Keenan and Xavier were. It could be a tent cabin in Yosemite National Park, or their couch where the three of them hardly fit, or the kitchen, singing along to one of Keenan’s Spotify playlists. Or in their bed, snuggled against their warm bodies. Wherever they were, she could find comfort.

[my-emotional-self]

Con-Flicted (Chris Evans x Reader)

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, Angst, Drinking, Fluff

Summary: Going to the Seattle Ace Comic Con was like walking into a Marvel dream…..until some ungrateful people at the Panel got on your nerves.  

Word Count:  7k+

A/N: Chris Evans is at this con (let’s just pretend he didn’t back out) Also, I rearranged timing around a little bit (panel on Saturday before photo ops and autographs…that kind of thing)

Seattle, Washington. June 22nd.  Not only was it your first time in Washington, it was also your first Con you had ever been to.  It wasn’t the money that was an issue, it was the timing.  Each time Chris Evans was at a Con, there was always something in the way of you going; work, meetings, family.  But not this time.  Nope.  You made damn sure that you had an open schedule to be there; no matter how busy you were living your life in Los Angeles.  The only downside: all the VIP tickets were sold out before you got a chance to buy them.  

Walking through the doors of the venue Friday night was truly enchanting.  Today there wasn’t anything planned so you took your time to walk around and get a feel how everything went.  So many people were dressed up as their favorite characters, stopping you in your tracks.  Looking down at your outfit, you were wearing a pair of light washed jeans and a Marvel tank-top.  “Shit,” you whispered to yourself, realizing it would have been a lot of fun to dress up. Alas, you just didn’t have the time.

Vendors lined the wall selling everything from t-shirts, to buttons, to comic books and so much more. It was a dream.  As you walked around, you bought some t-shirts and Funko Pops to add to your growing collection at home.  

After a long day of walking around, it was up to your hotel room for you.  Taking a long hot shower, you dried yourself off and passed out on the bed; flying always made you tired.  

Bright and early the following morning you were up, hair done, makeup on and you headed down to the venue.  Luckily you were able to get a hotel room that was connected to the venue, making it that much more easily to go to and from.

As you made it to the venue, you immediately became overwhelmed.  Last night, while there were still plenty of people milling around, it was nothing compared to what you were looking at now.  Your heart began to beat faster as your eyes took in the crowd. Looking at your watch, you had about an hour to kill before the panel started.  Not wanting to move around the throng of people, your feet carried you swiftly to the auditorium and you found a seat right at the edge of the aisle where one of the microphones were placed.  

Your leg began to bounce up and down as you sat there anxiously awaiting the guys to come on stage. Behind you, girls began talking about Tom Holland and you had to hide your laugh from them.  They were going back and forth about what question they wanted to ask them and listing off all the names of people they wanted him to give a shout out to.  Shaking your head, you couldn’t believe that out of everything they could ask, they wanted to waste their time asking for shout outs to their friends.  It was completely ignorant and downright rude in your mind.  

Kevin Smith appeared on stage and the crowd began to cheer and clap; your cheering was a little more enthusiastic as theirs.  Maybe it was because you actually KNEW who Kevin Smith was!  

“Welcome of course to Ace Comic Con!  Is everyone having a good time?” Kevin asked the crowd and everyone cheered yet again. “The Ace crew has put together a fantastic lineup and today, we are going to talk to some bonafide Avengers ladies and gentlemen!”  The crowd went wild, including you.  Kevin went on to discuss how he has always been a big fan of not only Marvel, but DC as well and how lucky we are to be living in a time where they are taking those comics and turning them into magnificent movies for all of us to see. “We are going to talk to four people who have been a part of many of these movies.  First, we will start out with two of them because the other two are still taking pictures, but once they are done, they will come in and join us. So, without further ado, please welcome Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan!”

Everyone rose to their feet as the auditorium erupted into screams and applause.  Your heart was pounding in your chest as you saw Chris appear on stage.  A bright smile appeared on your lips at how absolutely gorgeous he looked.  He was wearing a pair of jeans, black tight t-shirt, and his ever present NASA ball cap.  His beard was trimmed to perfection and it took all your constraint to not run up there and run your nails through his beard.  

Ever since you first saw him play Captain America, you were hooked.  After that you watched all of his movies and realized just how terrific of an actor he really was.  Not only that, from what you had seen from his twitter and interviews, he was a great human being; standing up for what he believes in which was always a turn on for you.

Kevin sat down with Chris and Sebastian as the three of them talked on stage.  Soon enough people were lining up for questions as the guys on stage seemed to be having a great time.  Chris’ smile was contagious.  

You couldn’t help but watch Chris and the way he answered questions, or sat there and fidgeted on the couch next to Sebastian.  Knowing full well he had anxiety issues, your heart went out to him and this just proves how much he loves his fan to be here.

Without even introducing them, Tom and Anthony sneaked onto the stage and all the younger girls in the audience screamed so loud that you clenched your eyes shut tight from the sound; it was overpowering.  

“Better late than never,” Kevin joked making the four men on stage laugh and nod their heads. “Tom, are you having fun today?” It felt like five minutes of screaming before people quieted down enough for Tom to answer the question.  

“Yeah actually I’m having a blast.  It’s been a lot of fun!”

“And how about you Anthony?”

“Oh you know how it is,” he responded with a shrug of his shoulders and a smirk.  “These things are always fun for me to do because I get to pick on the rest of my cast members.”  His answer made you laugh like much of the rest of the audience.  

Kevin asked a few more questions to Tom and Anthony before he opened up the floor.  The questions went by with many of them seeming nervous to speak into a microphone and ask their questions; hell, you would be too which is why you didn’t want to ask anything.  The questions were simple, respectable….for the most part.  

“Take it away to the next person,” Kevin said and you looked to see a girl standing at the microphone.

“Umm, so first of all Tom, I was wondering if you could say ‘hi’ to my friend Mary, she’s a huge fan?”

Here we go you thought to yourself as you saw the girl holding her phone out and recording Tom.  

“Hi Mary!  How’re you doing?” Tom said with a smile from his seat on the stage.

“That’s probably going to make her, like, entire life,” the girl at the microphone said with a laugh. “Anyways, umm, so, I don’t really….well this is my first comicon,” she said with a nervous laugh.  “This is my first comicon and I just wanted to say that you guys are amazing actors and a huge inspiration and….just to point out to Anthony, Seb….Tom Holland, besides Chris, is the only here that actually HAS his own movie.”  Your jaw dropped to the floor at her saying that; your eyes wide as saucers.  It was such a disrespectful thing for her to say and you were flabbergasted that the crowd was actually CHEERING at her words!!!

Looking up at the four of them sitting on the couch, your heart dropped to your stomach.  Anthony was looking around the stage as both Chris and Sebastian tried to hide their embarrassment with laughs before their heads dipped way back.  From your view, you could see them shaking their heads back and forth.  

“I didn’t say it…I didn’t say it,” Tom said as his face was contorted with a mixture of a faked smile and embarrassment.  

“Things are getting hostile…AVENGE that comment man!” Kevin said.  

Sebastian grabbed his water bottle, Chris just sat there with his hands fidgeting in his lap, as Anthony began to speak.  “First of all….first of all, I’m pretty sure the movie was called ‘The Winter Solider’…..” the crowd cheered as you looked to Sebastian.  His face was hard, not even a hint of a smile as he nodded his head to his friend.  “I guess the two Academy Award nominated movies I did means nothing huh?”  

There were a few more ‘regular’ questions, people actually asking about the movies before another two girls stepped up to the microphone.  “Umm, yeah, I didn’t really have a question, but I just wanted to show this fan art my friend made of you Tom, and Tessa.  And I have a pitbull at home too so I just wanted to say I thought that was kind of cool and I was hoping you could give Tessa a pet for me?”

“I will, yes I will do that,” Tom replied with a grin.  

“Who’s Tessa?” Sebastian asked, confused as to who the girl was talking about.  

“His dog!!!  Oh my God educate yourself!” she spoke into the microphone with a scowl on her face as her friend laughed from behind her.  For the second time that day, your jaw dropped at the audacity these girls had to speak the way they were.  

Tom started laughing while Chris, Sebastian and Anthony had frowns on their faces, looking between the three of them.  

“You ah….you have a good time on the internet tonight,” Sebastian remarked with a shake of his head and you knew exactly what he meant by that.  The actual fans of the Marvel fandom would be making her into a meme and it would be ALL over the internet.  You grinned knowing that it wouldn’t be fun for her.  

“Time out time out…how do YOU know about Tessa?” Mackie asked.  

“He posts about her all the time.”

“Oh so he posts pictures of him and his dog?  Just hanging around at home?”

“Do you not follow Tom on Instagram?” she asked with her palms faced upwards.  

“Baby I’m an ADULT.  I follow no man, just so you know.”  You laughed so hard as Chris and Sebastian clapped, nodding their heads at his comeback.  Anthony always had the best comebacks.  

Next, her friend stepped up to the microphone.  “Ok, so before I say anything, I promised my friend Iris that I….”

Anthony quickly cut her off. “Ya’ll got a lot of friends. Where are your friends at?”

“I’m sorry…’friends’ maybe a term you don’t know…..” she trailed off and the crowd just gasped in shock at what she said.  Everyone on stage, all four of them were just as shocked as you.  

“What???” both Chris and Sebastian spoke into their mics as they turned to Mackie.  

“Oooohhh  ooohhhh oooohhh…I like that…I like that.  I don’t know the term ‘friends’, I know the term ‘family’.  When stuff gets tight, let me see where your friend at.”  

By now you had completely decided to stop listening to these young girls; not wanting to give them the time of day.  But you did faintly remember one of the girls saying something about a question for Tom and she didn’t really care about the others guys up there.  As you sat in your chair, your leg bouncing erratically up and down your eyes glanced towards the four of them on the stage.  They were embarrassed and extremely uncomfortable and now you felt the heat rushing up your neck and to your cheeks feeling utterly embarrassed FOR them, and for the rest of the Marvel Fandom.  

Once the girls were done, Kevin tried to end it but one more girl begged to ask her question.  All you ended up hearing from her was something along the lines of “I’ve been on my feet and in heels all day.”  It was enough to make you snap as you stood from your chair and went to the vacant microphone.  

Your heart was hammering in your chest but by now, you were running on peer adrenaline.  As the girl walked away from the microphone, you spoke up.

“Excuse me, Mr. Smith,” your nerves getting the better of you as your voice came out strained. Kevin looked at you, his brows raised. “I don’t have a question, I just wanted to make a real quick comment.”

“Well, I see there is someone out there who has manners.  What’s your name?”

“My name is Y/N.”

“Well Y/N, because you asked so respectfully, I’m going to let you make your comment.”

The heat was back to your face again as you blushed and you cleared your throat.  “I just want to start out by saying that every single one of you up there, are absolutely amazing.  Chris, Sebastian, Tom, Anthony, and you too Kevin.  You are all such talented actors and I want to say thank you for the movies you have given us.”  The crowd rejoiced and you felt encouraged to continue.  “I also want to apologize, on behalf of the Marvel fandom for today.  What some of these ‘fans’,” you stated with actual air quotes, “said to you guys up there, was disrespectful, and completely uncalled for.”  Turning sideways you glanced around the auditorium. “If anyone has a question for just one of the actors up there, you don’t have to actually go and say ‘you don’t care about the rest of them’.  The crowd, yet again, applauded you.  

You turned back around to face the stage and your eyes met Chris’.  He was staring right at you, staring right through to your soul and it took your breath away.  “Umm…,” you lost your train of thought for a minute.  “I know this isn’t part of your contract, to come to these cons and see your fans.  It is something you do, out of your own free will, and out of your own time.  There is no way that you should be treated the way you were today.  On behalf of the Marvel Fandom, I want to thank you for taking time out of your busy schedules to be here with us today.”

Chris, Sebastian, Tom, Anthony and even Kevin all stood up from their spots on stage and clapped for you. You noticed Chris quickly whisper something to each of his cast mates and they all nodded their heads.

As Kevin ended the panel you saw Chris whispering to what looked like a security guard; his head nodding in your direction.  Taking a deep gulp, you instantly thought you had maybe done something to upset them and were in trouble.  Sitting back down in your chair, you reached under and gathered your belongings before standing up, only to come face to face with the security guard that Chris was speaking with.  

“Are you Y/N?” the very tall and bulky looking man asked.  Swallowing the lump in your throat, you could only nod your head in response.  “Come with me.”

Fuck you thought to yourself as you followed him down the steps and trying to make your way through the crowd as everyone was leaving the auditorium.  You followed the man until you came up to the stage as he motioned for you to continue. Slowly you crept up the stairs as he ushered you behind the curtains.  

Your heart began to pound as you saw Sebastian, Anthony, and Tom standing next to a refreshment table, laughing, while Chris stood off to the side as he spoke on his phone.  

“Hey!  There she is!” Anthony’s voice boomed as he made his way towards you, arms out for a hug.  You couldn’t help the smile that graced your lips as you hugged him back.  And damn was he a good hugger.  “You know, you were our hero out there,” he said with a bright smile just as Chris got off the phone and walked over to you.  “Standing up for us an all.  I have to say.  It was ama-AZING!!”  Everyone laughed, including yourself as you felt the heat of your blush invade your neck and cheeks.  

“It was the least I could do after how some of those people were treating you guys.  I mean,” you looked down at your feet, feeling nervous from their gazes at you, “you guys put so much effort and passion into these movies for fans…it’s not fair for them to treat you like garbage when you take time out of your own life to do these kinds of things.”

All four of them murmured their agreements as Chris’ eyes never left yours.  It truly felt like he was looking deep into your soul and your heart skipped a beat.  Biting your lip, you turned you gaze down at your feet again.  

“Which is why we want to thank you.  How about you come up to my hotel room tonight.  We were all going to order some pizza and have some drinks.  We were hoping you would join us,” Chris spoke with a delighted smile.  

Your brain had to do a double take, as his words repeated in your head.  “Are-are you sure?” you asked with hesitation.  

“Of course we’re sure. It’s the least WE could do to thank you for what you did out there,” Sebastian chimed in.  At that moment, you weren’t sure if you had died and gone to heaven; or perhaps hit your head at some point and were dreaming.  

“Yes.  I’d love to.”

~~~

Since you didn’t have any autograph or photo sessions today, only tomorrow, you made your way back to your hotel room.  It turns out, the guys were all staying in the same hotel as you and you were to meet them at Chris’ room around 7 tonight.  

Looking at the clock, it was only 2 in the afternoon, but with everything that happened earlier, it felt much later than that.  Setting your alarm, you decided to take a little nap so you could be ready to hang with the guys tonight.

After waking from your nap, you lay there looking at the blank white ceiling of your hotel room.   Taking another quick shower, you re-did your makeup; making sure to keep it very simple. Taking one last look in the mirror, you gave yourself an encouraging nod before grabbing your purse and heading to Chris’ room, which just so happened to be on the same floor as yours; just on the opposite end of the hotel.  

Gathering a deep breath, you let it out before knocking on the door.  You could hear laughing and ruckus going on inside as the door opened to reveal a smiling Tom.  “Hey Y/N! You made it!” he beamed while opening the door for you to step inside.  

Looking around, you noticed it was a rather large suite.  It was a complete open floorplan with a large living room and kitchen; a set of double doors revealing the bedroom.  The furniture was very modern with sharp edges and neutral tones; the kitchen had dark wood with black granite.  

“Wow,” you said breathlessly as you looked around, realizing it was bigger than even your apartment back home.  Most hotels you had ever been in were very bland and boring; maybe you just needed to up your game and start staying in suites from now on.    

“There’s our girl,” you heard Chris say and the way he said it made go weak in the knees; his voice alone sending chills to your lady bits and you had to stifle a moan.  He had two beers, one in each hand as he came up to give you a hug.  And I thought Mackie was a great hugger you thought to yourself as Chris’ large arms wrapped securely around you.  

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you giggled as he let you go.  Chris handed you a beer and placed a hand on your lower back, leading you into the living room.  

~~~

It wasn’t long before everyone was stuffed with pizza and booze; the suite echoing with laughter as you all were laid back on the couches and talking.  You were feeling relaxed and buzzed as you sipped on some sort of drink that Mackie had made for everyone.  The four of them welcomed you into their little group and you felt right at home. Chris also couldn’t keep his eyes off of you; especially your lips.  You caught him on more than one occasion watching your lips as you talked.

Chris wasn’t just watching you; he was being flirty with you also.  Each time the two of you were off the couch, either walking to and from the kitchen, or just standing around, he would always pass by you very closely. Many times he would even whisper in your ear, simple things such as “hey”, or “you look beautiful.”  Each time it made your breath hitch and you skin break out in goosebumps.  But your favorite part was when he would touch you with his hand to your lower back when he passed by.  This man was slowly torturing you in the most extravagant of ways.    

“Time for some fun! We are going to play Never Have I Ever! Everyone know the rules?” Tom said as he held up his drink.  It was a favorite past time of yours that you and your friends used to play in the summer at bonfires back in high school.  Everyone else nodded as Tom stood up.  “Alright. Sebastian, you start!”

Tom sat down as Sebastian stood up.  “Let’s see…..never have I ever…..had sex in a public place.”

“Really?  Never?” Chris asked as he shook his head laughing, taking a sip of his drink.  You bashfully grabbed your drink off the table and also took a sip.  

“Ooohh, look at our girl over here,” Mackie teased and you shrugged your shoulders; a playful grin on your face.    

“Alright I’ll go,” Tom spoke, standing up.  “Never have I ever hooked up with a cast member…or maybe in this case,” he said pointing to you, “a co-worker.”  Wheew, you were safe from that one; but Chris and Sebastian weren’t as they both took a swig of their drinks.  “Your turn Y/N.”

Standing up, you bite your lip trying to think of something that would perhaps get all of them to take a drink.  With a grin, you looked Chris dead in the eyes and spoke.  “Never have I ever hooked up with someone famous.”

“Oh come on!” a chorus of groans came about the room as you giggled.  

“Such a cheat,” Mackie said shaking his head as all four of the guys took a sip of their drinks. Looking around the room, you couldn’t help but feel his eyes burning into you.  With a small grin, your gaze landed on Chris and sure enough, he was staring right at you; his own mischievous smirk on his perfectly bearded face.  The way he was looking at you made you wet in your panties.  Biting your lower lip, you had to squeeze your legs together to stop the ache.  

Clearing his throat, Chris stood up.  “My turn.” You sucked in a deep breath as his eyes never wavered from your sitting form.  “Never have I ever slept with someone I met at a con.”  Instantly your cheeks became enflamed from the heat of the blush that overtook your body; and it clearly wasn’t from the drinking.  

“Ooohh,” came from the mouths of the three other guys in the room as they watched Chris stare you down.

“Dude, the point is to get other people to drink as much as possible.  Nobody here has hooked up with someone from a con,” Anthony chimed in with his signature smirk and chuckle.  

You stared intently at Chris, as he did the same; his eyes saying it all; not yet.  

A tremble went through your body as Chris gave you a devilish wink. 

“Damn it’s getting late. I’m going to head back to my room,” Anthony spoke up, breaking the staring contest between you and Chris.  

“Dude, it’s like, 10:30,” Tom responded giving him a goofy look.  

“Yeah and I’m old.  I’ll see you three in the morning.”  Anthony got off the couch and made his way to you, giving you a hug.  “And you all will go to bed soon enough too if you know what’s good for you!”

“Yes dad,” Tom remarked getting from the couch as well.  He too came over to give you a hug as you noticed Chris whisper something into Sebastian’s ear.  Sebastian nodded his head, giving you a grin as he came over to give you a hug also.  

“I suppose, it is time to go.”  Getting up off the couch, you began to retrieve your purse, thinking you should be heading out with the rest of them, but that didn’t seem like the case.  

Chris came up behind you and whispered into your ear, “stay for a while longer.”  A quiver went down your spine as you watched Chris head towards the door, walking his guests out.  Your mouth suddenly went dry and you nearly fell back onto the couch and hastily grabbed your drink; down the rest of it in three big gulps.   You are single, and so is Chris .  Have fun tonight your mind reminded you.  

Hearing the door close, you turned to see Chris heading towards the kitchen.  “Want another drink?”

“Umm, yeah, that’d be great.”

Sitting down next to you, he handed you a beer and you greedily began drinking it.  You weren’t sure what his intentions were for tonight, but at this point, you didn’t care one big.  He was a drop dead gorgeous man, and you were single.  You were allowed to have fun, right?

He sat rather close to you and the heat radiating off of him was searing.  The more you drank, the more brave you became and before you knew it, the words tumbled from your mouth.  “You’ve been watching me a lot tonight.”

Chris’ chest rumbled with a deep chuckle.  “How could I not?  You have an amazing personality and it’s quite a turn on.  I couldn’t help myself.”  His arm came to rest behind the couch, right behind your head as he placed his hand on your shoulder.  “I’m serious Y/N.  I don’t do this kind of thing.  I don’t just meet a girl and then hook up with her.”  So that is his intention tonight you thought to yourself.  “But there is something different about you.  You’re honest and caring.  Funny as fuck and not to mention fahking beautiful.”  There it was; his Boston accent you had so been hoping to hear.  “I don’t do things spur of the moment.”

You found yourself leaning into him, just as he was doing to you.  His words hitting close to home and it made you feel better knowing he didn’t just want to screw you and leave you.  The chemistry had been there, all night, that much was true.  As you got close to him, it felt as if a wave of electricity was bouncing off the two of you.  

“Do you feel that?” you asked, fanning his face with your breath.

“That connection?” he replied as his eyes glanced down to your lips.  “Oh yeah I feel that.”  He closed the distance and his lips finally connected with yours.  It was the greatest feeling in the world; but all too soon, he pulled away.  “Was that ok?”

Your heart was racing in your chest as you nodded your head.  “More than ok.”  You smiled before kissing him this time, putting all your sexual frustration into the kiss.  Reaching your hand up, you cupped the back of his head as your fingers threaded through his thick locks, earning a low growl from Chris.  The noise turned you on to no end as you moved your leg to straddle his waist.

Your lips continued to brush together, slowly at first.  Chris was a damn fine kisser and you found you could stay in this position for the rest of your life and be happy, just kissing him like this.    

His hands moved to grip your hips as the kiss deepened; his tongue swiping at your lower lip, begging for entrance.  You gladly opened your mouth, letting his tongue trace yours as a soft moan escaped the back of your throat.  Chris gripped your hips at the noise and you involuntarily ground your hips down.  

“Fuck Y/N,” Chris rasped as he pulled away from your lips.  He looked longingly into your eyes; his hips jutting up and you could very clearly feel how hard he was already.  His hands trailed from your hips and under your shirt; stalling at the clasp of your bra.  “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Your heart swelled knowing that he was thinking more intently about this situation than just a quick fuck and you gripped his hair at the nape of his neck.  “Don’t even think about stopping,” you cooed.  

With a seductive grin on his part, he unclasped your bra as his lips began giving slow, succulent open mouth kisses on your neck.  His kisses left you feeling dizzy in the best kind of way as your hands went to the hem of his white t-shirt, quickly lifting it over his head.  “Fuck,” you breathed out as you saw him bare chested; the tattoo on his collar bone just begging to be kissed.  Leaning down, you did just that as you let your tongue swipe across the beautiful words.  

It was his turn to rid you of your shirt as your arms raised.  He pulled off your shirt and bra with haste; staring right back at your bare chest.  “Fucking beautiful,” he murmured before his lips encircled your right nipple, making you throw your head back in pure delight.  You had never felt this kind of fire burning in your body and you couldn’t wait to experience more with Chris.  He gave your left nipple the same amount of affection before he began nibbling on your collarbone.  His large hands cupped your breasts and squeezed lightly, just as his tongue found a sweet spot on your neck.  A guttural moan left your lips and you felt his cock twitch beneath you.    

You began to gyrate your hips, needing to release some sort of tension on your core and it only spurred Chris on more as he lightly began to bite and nibble on your neck.  “Chris,” his name was a breathy moan as it left your lips.  

He didn’t need to hear anymore as he gripped your hips tightly and rolled you onto your back on the couch.  Chris made quick work of removing your pants and panties before positioning you into a seated position on the couch.  His alluring grin was back as his hands grasped your ankles and pulled you down a bit so your ass was close to hanging off the couch.  

Chris sunk to his knees in front of you and it felt like your brain began to short-circuit.  Is this really happening you thought as Chris pried your legs wide open for him. “Fahking perfect,” he breathed and his hot breath made you tremble from deep inside.  “You still want to do this?”

“Yes, yes Chris please,” you begged as your chest heaved with anticipation.  

His eyes roamed over your heaving chest before landing right on your open pussy; and fuck were you wet for him.  He began peppering the inside of your thighs with soft kisses; his beard tickling you as you tried to hold still.  Taking his fingers, he spread you gently and began to lightly blow making you wiggle with pleasure.  He damn well knew he was teasing you and he was getting a kick out of it.  Thankfully he wasn’t that cruel as his lips wrapped around your aching clit, making you scream out his name.  

Your head fell back and Chris moaned as he licked a strip right up your center and to your clit. Your hand grasped his hair as you wiggled your hips.  From all the sexual tension you’ve had tonight, you knew you wouldn’t be lasting long; especially with his expert mouth.  Fuck could this mad use his mouth.

As his mouth began to suckle your nub, he inserted two fingers into your core and you were a goner. Your orgasm washed over you in waves of pleasure; more than you had ever felt before.  You cried out his name as your body convulsed; Chris’ fingers still inside of you but they stilled their movements.  

When your high finally ended, you opened your eyes to see Chris kneeling before you; a beaming smile on his face.  “You are even more gorgeous when you come, if that’s even possible.”

A soft giggle escaped your lips as you leaned forward to kiss him; tasting yourself on his lips. Your hands trailed down his chest until you reached his sweatpants; your hand disappearing inside the waistband. A low growl came from Chris as your hand clasped his large and endowed cock.  “Oh that feels good,” Chris grunted as his head slumped onto your shoulder. Your thumb circled his tip, wiping his pre-cum all around him as you began to pump him slowly.  Hell, you were beginning to get off again just hearing the noises he was making.  “Wait wait wait.  Stop Y/N.”

You frowned at him, wondering if you were doing something wrong.  But he quickly kissed your worries away with the most passionate and heated kiss you ever felt someone give you.  “I just don’t want to come too fast,” he confessed with a smile as he pulled away.  “You’re turning me on like crazy.”

You chuckled as he stood up from his spot, shredding his sweatpants and boxers, leaving him completely bare just like you.  With your beating heart and even more aching pussy, you stood up from your spot on the couch and switched positions with Chris so he was now sitting down.  As you began to straddle him, he stopped you a second time.  “What about a condom?”

He truly was not only a gentleman, but the perfect man as you smiled back at him.  It amazed you that he was so caring and concerned. Most men wouldn’t care; they just wanted a quick fuck and then be done.  But not Chris.  “I’m clean and on birth control.”

Chris nodded as his hands raked over your naked form in front of him; eyeing you with greed.  “I trust you.”  His words made your heart skip a beat as you slowly lowered yourself onto his thick length.  The two of you groaned in pleasure at once.  You had never felt so full before.  Chris’ hands explored your body as your forehead rested on his; your breathing deep as you became stretched with his member.  “Are you ok?” he inquired.  Opening your eyes, you saw he was staring at you with consideration.  

A small smirk graced your lips as you nodded your head.  “I’ve uh…I’ve just never been with someone so big before,” you lightly giggled.  “It’s just going to take a moment to adjust.” Chris’ eyes softened as his right hand was placed at your neck, pulling you forward so he could kiss you.  His kiss was tender and gentle, making you that much more relaxed and easier to adjust to him.  

“I’m kind of glad you needed a few minutes to adjust,” Chris chuckled when the kiss ended.  Cocking your head to the side, your brows furrowed at his comment.  “Fahk Y/N, your pussy is so tight and warm.  If you would have begun to ride me right away, I would have busted instantly.”

All the tension released from your body once you found out just how turned on Chris was.  “Well, in that case.  Are you ready or do you need another minute?” you teased playfully with a wink.  

With his own grin, he placed his hands at your hips and lifted you up before easing you back down. No words were needed for you to realize he was ready.  As you placed your hands on his shoulders, you began to ride him.  Your breasts bounced as your thigh muscles were giving you one hell of a workout; but it was all worth it.  Opening your eyes, you saw Chris’ gaze go from your bouncing breasts and down to where you two were connected; watching his own cock disappear into your pussy.

Chris made a dangerously seductive growl before placing his hands at your ass, giving a tight squeeze. “YES!” you cried out, loving the way he was touching your scorching body.    

Without so much as a notice, Chris gripped his arms under your thighs and lifted you up, causing you to squeal as he began walking into the bedroom; the two of you still connected in the most intimate of ways.  

Chris placed you on the large bed with ease.  His hips snapped forward as he began to pound into you with a rapid pace.  Your arms went up to the headboard to protect your head from hitting it as Chris began to pound you into the mattress.  “Don’t fucking stop!” you begged as you felt the familiar ripple begin to tighten in your belly.  For, what it seems like the first time in your life, someone actually listened to you during sex and Chris’ hips never faltered.  In fact, he sped up if that was even at all possible.  Your toes began to curl and your muscles tightened.   “Fuck fuck yesyesyes CHRIS!” you screamed as your second orgasm of the night washed through you.  

“Right there baby…..FUCK,” Chris bellowed as he gave a few more sloppy thrusts before stilling inside you; his cum filling the inside of your pussy as his cock twitched inside of you.

~~~

You startled awake the next morning as an alarm blared rather early.  Groaning in frustration, you opened your eyes and realized you were cuddled in a cocoon in Chris’ arms; a smile gracing your lips as last night’s memories repeated in your head.

“Mmmmm, sorry about that,” Chris spoke as he turned his alarm off and kissed the back of your neck before getting out of bed.  

“What time is it?” you asked as you got into a sitting position.

“Almost nine.  I have photo ops starting at 10.”  He came around the bed and gave you a tender kiss before heading into the bathroom.  You heard the shower turn on as pushed the covers off your naked body, shivering at the loss of comfort.  

Making your way into the living room you began to dress yourself, a frown emanating on your lips. Although you had an amazing night last night, you were sad to see it end.  Chris was incredible; not just in bed but also in tune with your feelings, making you feel comfortable.  

Just as you reached for your purse, Chris emerged from the bathroom with a towel around his waist. He walked over to you, taking you into his arms.  “I had a great time last night.”

“Me too,” you replied hugging him back.  He smelled amazing and you didn’t want to let him go.  

“I meant what I said last night Y/N.  I don’t do these kinds of things without thinking them through.  If you hadn’t live in Los Angeles, I don’t know if I could have gone through what we did last night.  But since we live in the same city, I was kind of hoping things wouldn’t have to end tonight.”

Yep, you’re dead.  You’re dead and in heaven was all you could think as you stared into his baby blue eyes.  “Are you being serious right now?”

He hugged you tighter as you felt his chest rumble with laughter.  “Dead serious.”  He pulled away and gave you a chaste kiss to your lips.  “I want to take you on a real date next week.  Can I do that?”

You nodded your head quickly before the two of you exchanged numbers.  “I’ll see you soon,” he added before giving your butt a smack.  

As you left his room, you couldn’t help but grin as you headed back to your room.  Sooner than you think you thought to yourself.  

~~~~

Not having VIP tickets was a bummer, but standing in line for your photo op only let you sit and memorize everything that happened the night before with Chris.  Before you knew it, you were next in line.  

Opening the curtain, there you saw Sebastian, Anthony, Tom and Chris as they posed with a fan.  When Anthony saw you, his smile brightened.  “There’s our girl!”

You quickly got in the middle of them, with Chris to your right.  Taking a quick glance in his direction, you winked at him before smiling at the photographer.  It may have looked like Chris’ arm was around you in the photo; but lo and behold, his hand was placed firmly on your ass and you couldn’t wait to get back home for your first official date with Chris.  

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[manna-the-artist]

Christmas with the Septic’s

A secret Santa gift for @lifeofthesepticeye

20 days until Christmas

Jack was bored. This of course was highly unlike him, but he had already recorded the games for the day. He was looking around the room, searching for anything he could do. Then his eyes fell onto the calendar where in big letters ‘December ’was written on the paper.

“Yeah…”, he thought, “I could start to think about what I do on Christmas.” Jack considered going out with friends or maybe spend it alone but then it came to him: the other Septic’s! And he jumped up from his flopped position in the chair. He had some planning to do if this was supposed to work.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

17 days until Christmas

Convincing Marvin and JJ had been easy. Especially the mute was happy when Jack had called them. He knew that those two would be easily invited.

Getting Chase to come also went smoothly. On the second Christmas day Chase would visit his kids but, on the day before he would be at Jack’s.

The hero and the doc would be harder to invite. The first he had to track first as the hero was usually jumping all around the city to safe people and the latter he really needed to think about how to pry away from work.

And then there also was…but should he? Jack stored that thought away for later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

15 days until Christmas

Thanks to Marvin he had at least rightly a location of where Jackaboy was rummaging around these days but with the Doc he hadn’t been successful yet. (He had tried to call three times and even went there only to be thrown out with the words “You aren’t sick Jack!”) The next idea the Irish had was to call Schneep’s secretary to give the Doc the present of “free time” which he clearly deserved.

Pushing the thoughts of the invitation matter aside he focused his attention to the list he had been writing for the last 30 minutes.

Presents

Marvin = new cape or set of playing cards Chase = new cap (have seen one in store a few days ago) JJ = pocket watch (still getting repaired) (Jackaboy) = multitool set (Schneep) = different coffee and tea samples (from Europe) Anti =

“This will do”, he thought to himself.

The most of the presents he would buy on the weekend and the pocket watch was currently at his neighbor’s getting repaired.

Jack had found the watch at a flea market but sadly realized to late that it didn’t work anymore. When he then had ran into his neighbor a few days ago it was pure luck that he was a ‘clock doctor’ as he funnily put it.

Jack set the list down and stood up to make himself a cup of coffee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

9 days until Christmas

Schneep was in. Jack had managed (with the help from Chase, Marvin and the whole staff from the doctor’s office) to talk the doc into accepting the invitation.

Schneep had mumbled something about “But only a few hours” but Jack was pretty sure that once the German was at his house he would stay the whole time.

The Irish man was also happy that he got almost all the presents in one go except those for Chase and Marvin.

The other problem was that JB still was nowhere to be reached (or found for that matter) but Marvin assured him that he could find him with his magic.

Jack sighed and took his mind back to cutting out the biscuits.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

6 days until Christmas

Jack had found something for Chase and Marvin after all: a mug with a picture of Chase’s kids and a nice set of cards with an Egyptian design for the magician. The Irish was currently busy wrapping all the presents.

Just when he was finished the doorbell rang. Jack stood up, hid the presents in the closet and went to open the door. But he even wasn’t close to it when he heard a key jingle and it opened on itself. There in front of him in the doorframe stood a tree.

“Did you forget that we wanted to decorate the house today Jack?” said a voice somewhere behind the tree that he recognized as Marvin’s.

“Eeh...to be honest...”

“Ah, just help me getting that thing in already!”

Once the tree was inside the living room Marvin followed by JJ who came with him to help walked into the room with their arms full of boxes of Christmas decorations.

The rest of the afternoon the three guys spent to decorate the tree, the living room and the house in general. Marvin had a jolly old time singing Christmas songs and Jack had to pry his backed goods out of the magician arms to save some for JJ and himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 days until Christmas

As the festivity was closing in Jack had finally news from JBM that he would come.

Everything was almost ready. Really the only thing that was left to do was buying the ingredients and the food that he would need for the Christmas dinner.

And then there was still one present left to get and an invitation to give…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Christmas day; morning

“Merry Christmas Jack!”

He looked up. One of his other neighbors was waving to him from across the street. Apparently, she had just been walking her dog, a beautiful German shepherd.

“Merry Christmas Helga”, he said back. “By the way, how did your bowling tournament go the other week?”

“I won but you know that it was only between friends so no ‘real’ tournament”, she replied.

The two chatted for a while, while Jack was smooching the dog, before each of them went back into their houses to prepare for the evening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Christmas day -early evening

Jack was giddy the whole day and just couldn’t sit still. Would they all come? Then the doorbell rang. He jumped onto his feet, flew to the door and opened it to reveal JJ, Marvin and Henrik.

“Fröhliche Weihnachten, Jack!” said the German doctor while JJ signed the equivalent word and Marvin gave him a big hug.

It didn’t take long for Chase and Jackaboy to arrive. The Septic’s settled together for dinner and it was a glorious meal. (Jack was flattered when JJ had told him that.)

While eating they were talking about what all of them did the last few months. Jack was especially interested in what JBM was doing (“I searched the whole month for you. Use your phone a bit more!). The doc told them about how he saved a little girls life and Marvin was explaining to Chase how to do an easy card trick so that he could surprise his kids with it the following day.

Once everybody was full and equipped with either a hot chocolate or coffee, Jack ushered them all in the living room for presents. Marvin enchanted the lights on the tree so that they slowly changed their colors.

From Chase Jack got tickets to an upcoming super hero movie, from JJ and Marvin a book about Nordic mythology, JBM gave him an envelope with money

“Didn’t really have the time, sorry”

“It’s fine J, I’m glad that you even are here.

And Schneep gifted him a nice set of winter gear; a scarf, gloves and a hat.

They all were happy about what they got from Jack especially Henrik (“It was right to spend the day here and thanks about the coffee.”).

All the boys where really content with themselves and the evening when JJ noticed one last wrapped package.

‘Who is that one for? I think it already was here when we came so it has to be from you Jack’

Jack just gave them a knowing smile, picked the gift up and laid it down next to the broken radio that was always standing around in the room.

At first nothing happened but then the radio gave a static noise and a faint Christmas tune started playing. It might have been just Jack’s imagination, but he was pretty sure he could hear a glitchy “M̳̦̕̕e̵̪̞͓̰̟͓̰̕͞r̜͉͇̱ͅͅr͉͚̝̕y̴̖̦̱̥͔͖͔͖͘ ͎̩C̻̱͜h̸̭͙͔͚͕̥̀ṟ̡̭̤͡͞i̝͎̯̥̝͉s҉̢͚͎͇̺̪ͅͅṱ͎̜̬͍̪͠m͏̞̝͖̞̯̮̭͖̞͘͢a͝͏̠̘s̷̸̨̺͎̞̗̲” in between the normal Lyrics and smiled to himself.

Merry Christmas indeed.

The End

I really hope you like it. It was fun to write even though I’m more of an artist I like to try writing sometimes. I hope you’ll find some things in the story we talked about the last few weeks :)

Merry Christmas!

-Manna :)