#even taking into consideration that there’s maybe 7 people on that plane

[triplexdoublex]

We cannot say Megan was the first celebrity he linked up with but while before all he cared about was NETWORKING and living the glory - to one day tell the story-, with Megan he started putting into consideration the clout he can instantly get.... and for this I really BLAME TRAVIS BARKER, that man.

All this circus for pop punk and his 'has-been' drummer career to come back AND for his label mogul career to take off. I'm sure he was in Kells ears telling him how this would benefit his rebrand and help him get away from 'Bad Boys' as Interscope would be more willing to focus on him and back him up (yes, he was always signed with them, but he REALLY started teaming up with them around 2018 and it was only for that staged Eminem beef, allegedly).

I also believe with Sommer Ray, something NEW about celebrities 'hook ups' like never before must have clicked and that is EGO. During that time, as many IG 'fitness' 'models' were out there, Sommer was the ONE no teenage boy or young man in America- black, white or other - could shut up about. Notice how even the guys were so invested in her- especially Rook who would later advice him to be in that Z-list movie with Megan. Sommer situationship really walked so Megan's could run; her 2009 role was peek 'young average male' fantasy woman.

Usually PR main gain is an UPGRADED image: Jay Z himself, R. Kelly associate, was only allowed to seat at certain tables after he associate himself with somebody so GREAT it over-shadowed the image of the crack dealer from Marshall project who shot his own biological brother at 12 yo over some deal. What's odd about the whole Twin Flame PR scheme is that it achieved the exact OPPOSITE for Kells. Megan is too insecure and talentless to team up with her partner to build eachother up.

The hate he gets on the daily has nothing to do with any sense of social envy but has anything to do with HER. That woman made sure to latch onto him as she won't land anything better (I'm sure his 'size' and looks helped and sponsoring vitamins on IG won't pay the bills, three CS checks and the divorce settlement). And to really secure him, she had to destroy his image from the start: gain levarage on him - so that, if he ever was to leave- she would be the victim.

In the private sphere she made sure to discover all weaknesses, feed his addictions (lines of coke on plastic tits and ayahuasca trips) and dig into his childhood (disgusting for her to use a poetry book to out 'one of her pretty boys' as a childhood S Assault survivor and blame their absent parents for everything and upbringing, yuck).

His last project gave me hope maybe he finally realized SHE is his BIGGEST enemy. Hopefully he's toxic enough to actually make run her away: for once in his life RUNNING AWAY PEOPLE MIGHT actually BE his BIGGEST BLESSING! Otherwise I don't see her ever letting go. She is too clingy. She's the type of person you actively need to cut off from your life.

HARD DISAGREE about Travis!! Especially saying he’s a “has been” that man is a fucking LEGEND!! I was a Blink girl wayyyy before I was a MGK girl. He’s always been drumming and producing and working on something. The only times he’s probably even has a break when when he was he was recovering from a plane crash he somehow survived despite having 3rd degree burns over 65% of his body , and he still came back strong!

The rest …in a nutshell, yeah this PR bullshit definitely hasn’t worked in his favor at all but let’s be honest he was already getting hate before she came along too , but she’s definitely increased it by playing victim. And yeah she’s an absolute trash human being for outing the SA in her “poetry book” especially since it heavily suggested it was kells who was abused because she mentioned the “history of family curses” he’s always said his family was cursed and even says in new songs how his family is cursed for 7 generations.

Yeah I had hope too until the were at stagecoach together, whether it be a pr stunt or them actually getting back together who knows? I just want her gone for good .

[sunkissedpages]

instead of you [part eighteen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of +sex

word count: 2k

series masterlist

“Sam and I will take the bunk beds.”

The room was a decent size. It was definitely bigger than Sam’s dad had made it sound. A large window on the back wall flooded the space with natural light and offered a view of the city below. By the door was a small fridge and a countertop with a sink and a couple of burners built in so that guests could cook their own meals. There was a queen sized bed jutting out from the western-facing wall and built into the adjacent wall were two twin-sized bunks, one on top of the other, making the room feel... cozy.

Harry and Tom traded looks with each other.

“Kidding.”

The boys visibly relaxed and chuckled awkwardly.

“If I ever have to share a bed with Tom again it’ll be too soon,” Harry sighed.

“Is that any way to treat your big brother?” Tom scoffed.

“I’m taller than you.”

“For now.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean? You’re twenty-five, you’re done growing.”

Tom shrugged. “Yeah, but I could always make you shorter.”

“Oh, what are you going to do, cut my legs off?” Harry challenged.

“I never said that.”

“Jesus Christ guys,” Sam said, finally cutting in. “Can we not threaten each other until we’ve had at least a few hours of sleep?”

“Whatever,” his twin grumbled, kicking off his shoes by the door.

Tom slung his backpack onto the top bunk and pulled his sweatshirt off over his head, exposing a strip of his stomach in the process. You looked away instinctively, hoping that you hadn’t drawn any attention to yourself while doing so.

“You always get the top bunk,” Harry whined.

“Yeah, because I’m older.”

“That’s not fair!”

“My brothers are actually ten years old,” Sam explained to you, raising his voice so that you could hear him over the bickering.

“No, I think ten-year-olds know how to take turns,” you said dismissively, not missing the glares from the other two Hollands.

“You’re right,” Sam agreed. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and sighed. “Reminds me of the family vacations we used to take. The six of us used to share one hotel room when we traveled.”

“Four boys... I don’t know how your mom did it.”

“None of us do.”

“I thought we were going to sleep,” Harry muttered from where he was already laying down on the bottom bunk, clearly irritated.

“Give us a minute to settle in, dude,” Sam shot back before dropping into a whisper. “It’s going to be a long week.”

You shook your head, putting your hands on his shoulders. “Everyone’s just cranky because they’re tired,” you reasoned. “We’ll get some sleep and then grab some food and then maybe they’ll be in a better mood.”

“You don’t know them like I do,” Sam warned.

“That’s true, but won’t they tone it down since I’m here?”

Sam snorted. “Wishful thinking.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever, I’m going to hop in the shower. I feel gross after being on a plane for so long.”

“I’ll go after you,” Sam replied with a nod. “Let me know if you need anything.”

You thanked him with a kiss under the watchful eyes of his brothers who both groaned in protest.

“Oh, fuck off,” Sam growled against your lips.

“By the way, sharing a bed doesn’t mean you get to mess around because I don’t want to hear that shit.”

“Harry!” Sam and Tom shouted, Tom going as far as throwing a pillow at his younger brother from the top bunk.

“Just being honest! We heard you going at it like rabbits when you had your own room, and I didn’t say anything about it then-”

“Harry.” To your surprise, it was Tom who cut him off, raising another pillow in warning. Thankfully, Harry took the hint that time and shut up, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance.

You smiled to yourself with the knowledge that your little Easy A stunt had worked, and looked over to see that Sam was wearing a matching smirk. He winked at you before turning to glare at his brothers.

“On that note, I’m going to shower,” you said, mostly to Sam, and made your way over to where you had dropped your suitcase by the door.

You gathered a set of pajamas to change into and then wandered into the bathroom, quietly closing the door behind you. It was one of those rolling doors so you had to be extra careful not to knock it off its hinges or the track and cause even more noise than necessary. You set your change of clothes on the counter next to the sink and began to undress, leaving your worn clothes on the floor.

The shower was kept in a room separate from the room with the sink and vanity, something you had read was common for Japanese washrooms. Inside the second room was a bathtub with a complicated looking panel next to it. With a closer inspection you determined it was used to fill the bath with water and customize the temperature. The showerhead was secured to the wall just to the side of the tub which meant you would have to hold it while you showered, but you didn’t mind. You were used to holding the showerhead for... other reasons.

Your shower was quick. You didn’t want to take too long when you knew other people were waiting for it. You were drained too. Even as you dried yourself off with a towel you could feel your arms start to get heavier.

You wrapped your hair in your towel and put on your pajamas shortly after, trying not to cringe at the way the fabric clung to your still-damp body. Usually you wouldn’t get dressed in the bathroom right after taking a shower because it was always so humid and sticky, you’d go out in the bedroom to do it, but as Sam’s girlfriend the latter wasn’t an option. So you dealt with the discomfort and ventured back into the main room.

It was dark now. Someone, you assumed Sam, had pulled the blackout curtains shut so that the daylight could no longer stream through the window. Harry was already fast asleep, but Tom and Sam were still awake, scrolling through their phones on their respective sides of the room.

Sam was perched on top of your bed, resting comfortably. He wasn’t underneath the covers, probably because he knew you didn’t like to share a bed with someone who hadn’t showered.

He smiled when he saw you and pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“Shower’s all yours,” you said.

“Thanks.”

You watched him rifle through his suitcase for pajamas and then eventually disappear into the bathroom before finally flinging yourself onto the bed. You still needed to take your hair out of the towel and brush your teeth, but you took a moment to just. Lay there.

Tom didn’t acknowledge you, hadn’t so much as looked at you since you came out of the bathroom, but you still found yourself looking over to him.

At the airport he had seemed at least a little concerned that he would have to share a room with you. Even in the cab to the hotel he kept sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. But now he looked completely relaxed and you were second guessing yourself. Maybe you’d been projecting. Maybe he hadn’t been anxious at all.

You, on the other hand, felt like you hadn’t been able to exhale since Dom had announced that you’d be sharing a room with Sam’s brothers.

It had dawned on you as soon as you stepped into the hotel room that you’d never be able to let your guard down. Before this point you had at least been able to take breaks, retreat to your hotel room with Sam and be yourselves without worrying that one of his family members was around. You hadn’t needed to keep up the act 24/7, but now you had no other choice. It was only for a week, but you knew it was going to be exhausting. You weren’t even sure that your current performance was believable, and that was without all of the more intimate interactions couples had in private. The good night kisses, the cuddling in bed together, falling asleep in each other's arms, the good morning kisses, all things you’d have to take into consideration. Most couples you knew moved in harmony, like they were one person, half of a whole. You and Sam were more like the hands on a clock. You were always moving in the same direction, and once in a while you’d overlap, but more often than not you were facing each other on completely opposite sides of the clock. It was what made you such good friends. Best friends. But what would make you terrible lovers.

To be fair, a lot of people misunderstood your dynamic, which you had been using to your advantage. They assumed that since you were always together you were basically the same person- and they weren’t necessarily wrong. You and Sam spent a majority of your time together. You knew each other well enough to finish each other’s sentences, to voice aloud what the other was thinking before they even said it.

The vibration of your phone next to you disrupted your train of thought. It was a text from Sam.

Can you come here rq? I need help lol.

Confused, you pushed back the covers and stood up. You dropped your phone back on the bed and walked over to the bathroom, keenly aware of the way Tom stiffened in his bed.

You rolled back the door and found Sam standing in his boxers next to the tub.

“What is it?” you asked, shutting the door behind you.

“How did you figure out the shower? I can’t get the water to be hot.”

“This is what you called me in here for?” you said, exasperation dripping from your voice.

“Yes! I don’t want to take a cold shower.” He said it like it should’ve been obvious.

“Did you try messing with the knobs? That’s how I figured it out.”

Sam’s cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as he pursed his lips, thinking about how to answer.

“Not all of them,” he admitted.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Sorry?”

“It’s the one on the left, dumbass,” you said and twisted the knob for him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled sheepishly. “I just didn’t want to fuck up the shower or anything.”

Men, you thought to yourself shaking your head.

“I’m going to bed,” you told him. “Before your brothers think I’m in here giving you head or something.”

“Let them think what they want,” he said, shrugging it off.

“I want to preserve what little amount of respect they have for me, thanks.”

Sam just chuckled and thanked you again as you let yourself out into the room with the sink. While you were there you hung up your wet towel and brushed your teeth with your finger and the toothpaste the hotel provided. You were too lazy to go get your toothbrush out of your bag.

“That was fast.”

You jumped, hand racing to your heart when you realized it was just Tom. He was still in his bed, but had rolled onto one side so that he could talk to you.

“You scared the shit out of me!” you hissed.

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound very sorry. “What did my brother want?”

God damn it, Sam.

“Why do you ask?”

Tom shrugged. “Just wondering.”

“He needed help figuring out the shower,” you explained.

“Glad he has you for that.”

You narrowed your eyes at the boy in the top bunk. He was trying to get under your skin. Why?

The ball was in your court. You could be the bigger person and let it go, or-

“He has me for a lot of things.” You pushed your tongue against your cheek so that there was a visible outline and brought your fist up to your mouth, moving it back and forth subtly so that he’d get the idea without being too obscene. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?"

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[writing-in-april]

Occupied

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer and Reader get caught by one of their co workers in a bar bathroom after Reader couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

A/N: This is the 1st of my 7 fics 7 days in a row for my 500 follower celebration! Thanks again for 500! Here’s another smut that’s in a clandestine spot lmao this’ll be my second public smut in a row plus I have one more already written that’s coming in like two weeks😂 Thanks to @imagining-in-the-margins who helped me get the ball rolling early on with dialogue and @definitelynotkatesblog for the original prompt!

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, Public sex, Unintentional edging, Humilation, Getting caught, Derek being Derek, Established relationship

Masterlist Word count: 1.5k

Sneaking off to go fuck your boyfriend in a bathroom at a bar was a little sleazy but, I had been desperate all day to find some alone time. The team had just finished a grueling case and I wanted nothing more than to order Spencer to rail me into next week. However, my plans had been dashed by Emily who had suggested we all go out to a bar to release the tension of the week before flying home in the morning.

We were all sitting in a booth at the bar that was a little too small to fit all of us and as a result I was practically sitting on Spencer’s lap, which was not helping my desperation at all in the slightest. Every so often he’d shift underneath me whether to get more comfortable or to pick up the Arnold Palmer he had been casually drinking. Each time he shifted I felt my panties dampen just a little more. This was tortuous.

My moment of opportunity came to me when Spencer lifted me off of his lap and said he was going to the bathroom. The bathroom doors were just hidden out of view from the table, so if I got up as well to go ‘to the bathroom’ no one would know if I followed in after him or dragged him into the woman’s bathroom. I quickly excused myself from the table as well after waiting a small amount of time to not arouse suspicion.

Normally, I’d choose the latter and pull him into the woman’s bathroom as it's universally known that they’re nicer. But, I had to switch to plan B when I saw that the ladies room was crowded with people.

I quickly checked my surroundings before slipping into the guy restroom. When I entered it was completely deserted besides Spencer, who was washing his hands at the sink. When he looked up into the mirror and spotted me behind him he spun around quickly with his eyebrows raised. I didn’t give him any time to respond before pulling him into the nearest stall.

“Y/N?! What are you doing?” He squeaked loudly as I reached forward to palm him through his slacks while reaching behind me to lock the stall door, I didn’t want to take my eyes off of him.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Now fuck me.” I said before slipping my shirt over my head revealing my bare chest to him. I sensed some hesitation from him, maybe because we had never done something so clandestine this close to our coworkers before. “Please… It’s not like we haven’t done something like this before.” A switch must have flipped in Spencer at my reference to our last dalliance that we had had in a risky location (That had happened at a park).

“You better keep quiet unless you want our coworkers to hear how desperate you are.” He said with venom in his voice while pulling up my skirt, dipping his hand immediately underneath my panties to run teasing circles on my clit and enveloping me into a harsh kiss. Pleasure started to overtake me, loving the way that he had suddenly ripped any sort of dominance of the situation from out of my fingers, but it wasn’t enough to get me anywhere near the edge of an orgasm. I whined in frustration at his antics so he tried to move his fingers away from my clit to finger me. Instead of letting him I bat his hand away, I was more desperate for something else, “I’m already wet enough I promise- just hurry up.” He looked a little irritated at the fact that I gave him an order but still obliged me by quickly freeing his cock. His pants were only opened just enough to free him but it still gave me a good look at his hard cock that did wonders to me. He hooked one of my legs around my waist and started to tease his cock between my folds. I whined pathetically once it had gone on too long for my tastes which he let out an annoyed grunt in reply.

Then with no warning he pushed into me, filling me swiftly all the way to the hilt. Pure euphoria coursed through my veins when he immediately started thrusting giving me no time to adjust to his considerable size. Even though we slept together quite often and had a healthy sex life, every time his size still took some getting used too.

He started to whisper into my ear about how pretty I looked for him when I was desperate and all I could come up with as a response was a high pitched Yes that was probably way too loud. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth to try and muffle any other sounds that tried to escape while Spencer started to nip at my collarbone to stifle his somewhat now unable to say anything else into my ear because of the pleasure he was receiving.

The way that Spencer then pitched his hips in conjunction with the tight circles he started to rub into my clit again my release was hurtling toward me faster than I ever thought possible. My legs were shaking violently and if he hadn’t been there to partially prop me up I’d have probably melted into a puddle onto the floor. Though, unfortunately the sweet feeling of euphoria I was headed towards was dashed away just by a few words.

“I’m pretty sure the bathroom stall you’re in is supposed to have a maximum occupancy of one.” Suddenly was said loudly cutting right through the breathy moans from the two of us, we both immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Derek. Spencer let out a high pitched squeak and then froze up like a statue as soon as he had heard the voice reverting back to the shy Spencer we were all used to. The both of us hadn’t even heard the door open to caught up in our personal pleasure.

“That’s very ableist of you Derek.” My sudden nonchalant response came after a brief pause to Derek walking in on the two of us seemed to embarrass Spencer as his face had turned a dark shade of red. I moved my hands from Spencer’s shoulders into his hair to try and soothe his embarrassment. Though, I still decided to give Derek one last quip before shooing him out of the bathroom. I had been so close to finishing plus he had embarrassed poor Spencer, he could deal with some embarrassment himself from my words.“Sometimes you need two people. Right now was not one of those times but, you wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t heard me.”

I must have stunned Derek into silence because for a good 30 seconds there was silence on his end. Though, I never really ended up getting a full response from him. Instead, he gave us what could only be described as a mortified slash apologetic grunt; then leaving the room quickly afterwards not even bothering to care if the door slammed hard on the way out. I don’t think he was expecting that response from me.

Getting redressed took almost no time seeing as the only article of clothing either of us had removed was my top. In the hopes of Derek keeping his mouth shut Spencer and I decided to walk out separately. I paced in the small stall as much as I could in the small space while waiting for my turn to leave, hoping that no one would come in here or see me leave, but most importantly that Derek didn’t say anything.

“Well you took a long time.” Emily remarked slyly to me once I had slowly walked back before lowering her voice and continuing.”I’m assuming when Derek went to see where you to had gotten too he got an eyeful”

I flashed Derek a harsh gaze, assuming he had told everyone at the table. Though, I dropped it once Emily quietly pointed out to the hickey that had sprouted on my collarbone. However, my annoyance had not abated, my clit was throbbing, begging for attention after it had been cruelly toyed with

I was sure the teasing would all come tomorrow on the plane once Derek got over his residual embarrassment and everyone wasn’t so buzzed. I gritted my teeth in frustration, if I hadn’t been desperate before I sure was now after having my release stolen from me. Though, I was even more frustrated that Spencer seemed to be doing just fine. Throughout the rest of the night all I could think about was what Spencer could do to me when we finally got back to our hotel room. I wish Hotch had let us take an extra car so I didn’t have to wait. When we finally got in the car to drive back I was vibrating with anticipation all over again I couldn’t wait until we found someplace that was less occupied.

[ms-indifferwnt]

I'm Cold (Lee Donghyuck x Reader)

"I'm cold"

"And?"

"Can't you give me your jacket or something?"

"Can't you accept my proposal and marry me already?"

In which Prince Donghyuck's parents are forcing him to get married and he decided to propose to the first girl he sees to shut his parents up

Genre: Prince!Lee Donghyuck x Maid!Reader, Angst, Fluff, Arranged Marriage (kinda), Slowburn

Warnings: Curse words, Suggestive (I'll add more if there are)

Word Count: 2.6k

Notes: Chapter 2 of Im Cold. Dont be shy and drop and ask, I love answering them hehe

Prev / Chapter 2 / Next

"And she said No" Donghyuck huffed taking a swig of his alcohol, while the boy opposite him started laughing at the story, "Don't," he says pointing a finger at him "Don't laugh at me, Mark Lee"

He snorts and takes a sip of his drink before replying "Well you deserved it, did you think she'll agree?" he pints out and sighs, running his fingers through his hair "You're fortunate enough that she didn't refuse your advances in front of everyone"

Donghyuck groaned and glared at Mark "You're supposed to be on my side"

"I'm on nobody's side"

"What a lucky bitch nobody must be"

"Think about it, other than the maid of the royal family, she has a life of her own, with people she adores and people who adore her right back," he points at Prince Donghyuck's chest "You suddenly pulling that stunt, is only making it harder for her, so be a little bit more," he thinks of the right word "Sympathetic"

Hyuck nods, playing with the liquid in his glass as Mark stands up to leave "Don't leave me," Hyuck accuses "Stay here till the sun rises"

"And why should I do that?"

"Because if Jeno and Jaem find out they're going to yell at me, if Renjun finds out he'll laugh at me, Chenle and Jisung are underaged to drink and Lucas Hyung is talking to his Fiancé"

Mark raises an eyebrow unamused by the younger's words

"Y/n is asleep on my bed," he answers honestly this time, relenting to the older's stare "I told her to sleep there and made an excuse that my parents might walk in and wonder why she is asleep on the sofa, so I waited till she slept before leaving her there to rest, you know like a gentleman"

Mark hums and sits back down "And what do I have to do with this?"

"I can use you as an excuse as to why I'm not in the room"

"Ok," Mark rolls his eyes and nods "Then why ask me to come here at Eleven in the evening if you just wanted her to be alone in the bed?"

"She slept at Eleven!" He shot back "she was on her phone for two hours, giggling to herself, whoever she was talking to is making her all giddy"

"Maybe she has a boyfriend or talking to her friends how dumb their prince is," Mark added "that's why she wouldn't accept you, none the less, at least try to be a bit more considerate on how she is feeling"

       "Morning" was the first thing Y/n heard when she woke up, don't get her wrong, she wakes up early cause of her job, but she also knows that the prince rises even earlier cause he loves the sunrise and when she opened her eyes that's where he was, by the window, letting the sun coat him in light making him glow, his black hair styled to perfection, his dress shirt wrapped snugly against his body, the tailor did a splendid job on this one, his trousers and unbuttoned blazer giving off a casual look. For a moment she sat there in awe, he was beautiful, absolutely breathtaking that it takes all her strength to look away "Go get ready, we're returning home after breakfast" he points at a dress beside the bed, that she hasn't noticed, and we have the prince to blame for that

The dress was a red, more pastel-like, giving off an innocent vibe, Off-shoulder vintage style is what she would describe it "What about that dress, Prince?"

"It's yours," He said and looked at her "If anyone  asks tell them I gave it as a gift to you on your birthday" she blushes and shakes her head, opening her mouth to speak if only he didn't cut her off "Gifts are meant to be accepted, love, so accept the dress, it's yours now"

Just as he spoke a maid entered the room bowing to the prince "Your Highness," She faces Y/n and immediately recognizes her, it was one of the new maids in Prince Donghyuck's Kingdom, She remembers to cause this girl was supposed to be under her wing "Milady"

Y/n gasps and looks at the girl in shock "Hana" She says and shakes her head

The prince walks towards Hana, petting her hair, "Speak casually to her, it's alright" He smiles and nods at the dress "Take care of her, see you in the dining hall my love" he says, taking her hand to kiss her knuckles and leaves the room

Y/n looks at the younger maid who looks at her in awe "Pardon me for my rudeness, Milady,"

"Y/n is fine"

She smiles "Lady Y/n, you of all people know how loved the prince is" she squeals excitedly "everyone in the palace were so excited with the news, so many girls envy you you know"

Y/n smiles softly "The prince and I aren't really dating" she replied and shook her head

"Milady please don't be so modest," She says and stood up to take the dress "wow such a pretty dress," she breathed "Where did you get this Milady?"

She sighs and stood up "The Prince gave it to me" she replies and Hana immediately assisted her "I'm ok, you don't have to help me"

She pouts "It is my job"

       Entering the dining hall all dressed up in the dress is Y/n's first, she looks at Prince Donghyuck who smiles and nods as Prince Jaemin stands to greet the new incomer

"Y/n" he smiles and takes her hand to kiss her knuckles "You look lovely," HE praises "Is that from Hyuck?" A shy nod leaves her and Prince Jaemin smiles slyly at the boy who was watching him and the girl, Jaemin raised a hand and waved him off, Yes, I know she's your bride I won't do anything, it meant.

But in all honesty, Prince Donghyuck was just watching to see if Jaemin was about to do anything that isn't approved by Y/n, he was just worried. She hasn't even agreed to marry him yet.

Prince Jaemin squeezes Y/n's hand so she'll look at him "Don't be shy Y/n," he replies and a smile coats his features "I'm sure Hyuck told you to wear that cause he was excited the secret is out and he can spoil you"

Y/n's eyes widened opening her mouth to speak but Prince Jaemin spoke first "He said this was a gift on your anniversary" he said excitedly leading her to her seat beside Prince Donghyuck

Prince Lucas nodded "What did you get him Y/n?

She was about to reply only to be spoken over by Prince Donghyuck "Can you not?" he asked Prince Lucas, wrapping a protective arm around her waist, making her flinch as he leans down to whisper in her ear making it look like he was keeping her close "Don't say a word"

She obeyed

       Arriving at the palace a little before noon she was greeted by Maids and butlers, ready to assist Prince Donghyuck in whatever he might need

He holds her hand, "follow me" he instructed and lead her through the palace and people, "mother says this is your room now" he informs and sits on the bed

"My prince" she quickly denies and shakes her head "I cannot accept, this is insane"

He laughs and shakes his head "The room is yours, get some rest, my parents took the liberty to fill your closet" he replies and stands up against the door, his hand on the door "Get some sleep, you must've been stressed" he opens the door and leaves

Y/n watches him leave still not done disagreeing with The Royal Families instructions, it wasn't fair, she and the prince aren't dating, they're not engaged, she doesn't deserve this

She sits down on the bed to open the drawer on the white vanity beside her and gasped, in it were different designs of accessories, she couldn't help but become completely enchanted, taking them one by one to examine them.

A beautiful (birthstone) ring was the first thing she saw, taking it and examining it, watching the intricate details swirl and curve around the ring. Next, she saw a pretty and plane necklace, it was a diamond gem, a choker sized necklace that if she wore the gem being pressed right between her collar. While holding the necklace she stands, going to the closet to see the overwhelming amount of dresses, taking them out to carefully inspect and admire them placing one after the other on the soft mattress of the bed, finding comfort on the cold floor right at the floor of the bed, she leans her head against the matress as she thinks, I have to tell them.

She sighs softly, this was all new and stressful and even if the gifts were beautiful, she feels guilty, these weren't for her  they were for Prince Donghyuck's Fiance, she frustratingly ran her fingers through her hair, and closed her eyes at the on coming headache

She didn't mean it, she only meant to close her eyes for a minute, to only rest for a couple of seconds, she didn't mean to be cooped up in the room for a two hour nap, she didn't mean to fall asleep still holding the necklace that when Prince Donghyuck entered to ask her if she wanted to accompany him only to see her asleep, she didn't mean for him to lift her and place her under the covers, she didn't mean for him to clean up the mess she made while she explored the room, she didn't even know it happened 'till she woke up

Opening her eyes and realizing that this wasn't where she fell asleep, she sat up in shock, what happened? who entered the room? Somebody cleaned up? She got cut from her thoughts when she noticed a letter on the vanity table from the prince herself

Dear Y/n,

I hope you didn't mind, I placed you on the bed, you'll get a stiff neck at the position you were on. Rest well, You deserved, the whole ordeal must've been stressful, I know you wanna talk to me, I have a free schedule later around 7 pm, eat dinner with me and lets talk

Lots of love,

Lee Donghyuck :)

Y/n's mouth drops open in shock, he was the one that placed her on the bed, did he clean to? please tell me the prince didn't clean up the mess she made. She stood up only to be greeted by Hana as she opens the door

"You're awake, Milady" She smiles and sorts through the closet before Y/n could even process what was happening "Prince Donghyuck has suggested this to be your outfit for the rest of the day Milady"

She blinks, "Um, no thank you, I'm ok with what I'm wearing" She says and moves to go out the door when Hana stops her

"Milady you can't be seen wearing the same thing twice," She reasons holding the dress up so she can see

Y/n examined the dress, it was simple more simple than the red vintage dress she was currently wearing, it was a long dress hat would reach her ankles, the material light and seemed light and cottony, sleeves reaching the wrists, and a cute bow by the collar. It was just a simple casual sundress that had its own belt, she nods and sighs "ok fine, I'll go change"

       She walks through the halls of the palace, going to the tea room, where Hana has informed her where Prince Donghyuck was. Upon arriving she realized that not only was Prince Donghyuck in the room so was the Queen and someone she hasn't seen a long time

"Donghyuck where is Y/n?" the queen asks and looks by the door, making Y/n hide behind the door, "Should we fetch someone to get her?"

Donghyuck was quick to shake his head and deny his mother's suggestion "She's probably asleep let her rest"

The boy she hasn't seen in years smiled happily at the conversation "Hyuck sounds like a caring fiancé its amusing" he laughs and teases Doghyuck with a sly grin "is she the one wearing blue by the door way?"

Y/n froze around the same time, Prince Donghyuck and the queen turn their heads to look "Y/n?" Donghyuck asks

Revealing herself, cheeks slightly tinted red at being caught she bows in greeting "I'm sorry," she replies looking down in embarrassment

Prince Donghyuck stands to hold her hand and land a kiss on her knuckles "Don't be, my love" he says and leads her to sit beside him with her still frozen from the nickname and the action,  "Did you sleep well?"

the boy from earlier giving her tea "I have honestly never seen Donghyuck so smitten," he teases and smiles at her "Nice to finally meet you, Lady Y/n"

She shakes her head and stands "No please, Lord Taeyong" she quickly denies "Don't address me by a title have no right over"

A smile lands on his lips "I like you" he says and pats Donghyuck's back "I approve if her, good job" he stands and bows "I'm afraid I shall keep you calling that Milady, it suits you" he winks and Donghyuck, gently pulls Y/n to sit down "Your Highness" Taeyong speaks to the Queen "After you, I think the two of them would like to have the room for themselves"

The queen giggled, nodding "Oh Taeyong, I was just about to suggest that, you're a lot like my brother in law has anyone ever told you that?"

"I'm afraid so, My Queen" he laughs "He is my father" was the last thing you could hear from the conversation before it faded away and into the hallway

Y/n wasn't paying attention to the Marquees or the Queen only to be focusing on the prince, his blazer long forgotten on the coat rack, but his simple french-cuffed-two-unbuttoned-buttons style was mesmerizing, she realized they have matching colored tops, she blushes slightly

"Are you still adamant about not marrying me?" he wakes her from her thoughts

She blinks then nods "Yes, this isn't meant for me, My Prince, this was for your Fiance and i can't take it"

He sighs and examines her "Two weeks"

"I'm sorry?"

"Give me two weeks of your time and after that I'll tell my mother myself"

"What? No, We have to tell her now"

"Listen, you said you don't want the royal family to suffer because I can't tell her I don't want tp get married yet, right?"

She bites her lip, not answering

"Right?"

"Yes" she whispers

"Then give me two weeks, to figure out a way to tell her how we broke up so you can be free and no one will ask why, and so I can use it as an excuse as to why I wont find a new bride anytime soon"

"What excuse, My Prince?"

"I'll be too busy trying to get over you to find one" he smiles and she tries her best to suppress the warmth of her cheeks at the sight

"That won't work"

"Better than the family getting ridiculed, so, will you give me two weeks my love?"

[talesofphantombandits]

Zero to Six ~ Hong Kong - Edited Version. Part 6.

Characters: Four X Zero (OC)

Summary: Zero was the first person to be ‘saved’ by One, she was his first honorary Ghost. Her knowledge in tech meant she got the role of ‘Hacker’ she recruited new team members, looked for missions and locations and made sure every security measure was looked at. You know normal hacker spy stuff. But her tough up bringing meant that if needs be she could fight, she was maybe even better than some people on the team knew. But due to One’s protectiveness over her she had to stay hidden, she was more of an actual ghost than the rest of the team was. This didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun though, over the months of being with the full team she had formed quite a passionate love/ hate relationship with the handsome Four. Who knows what sparks would fly if they were ever to meet. Warnings: Slight swearing, some suggestive flirting in later chapters.

Tagg list: (I know this is a edit of my original story but if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.) @raylan-c​​, @angelic-demonss

The night consisted of looking through the research and planning the best way to go about getting the dictators brother out of the tower in Hong Kong as discreetly as possible.

That wasn't the most exciting part about that night though, at least for Zero. In all fairness she was trying to concentrate on the meeting, but it's hard when a certain blonde haired, green eyed beauty kept staring her down. He even had the nerve to smirk at her when he caught her staring back. Dam him. She hadn't even been in his presence for 24 hours, yet she couldn't decide if she wanted to beat the shit out of him or jump him, kissing him like her life depended on it.

Maybe both?

Five had kindly offered Zero the pull out bed in her converted shipping containment while One made arrangements to get her, her own little space like the others had, a permanent home of her own sounded very nice indeed.  Although Zero tossed and turned most of the night she couldn't say the next morning that she was at all that tired when she woke up, the excitement was coursing through her veins and the anticipation to actually get to do field work was overwhelming her. One knocked on the girls door and dropped off the little of Zero’s belongings that she still had, he must have been back to the hotel room and collected everything, she thanked him but he just nodded slightly. “Still pissed at me I see.” She turned to Five who was sitting at the small table having some light breakfast 

“He’ll get over it.” She gave me her best smile. “Don’t worry.” 

With her belongings now returned to her, she decided to go for a shower and get into some fresh clothes so she’d be comfortable for the flight. She stepped out of the shower, dried off then dressed in some black skinny jeans and threw on a long burgundy striped top. Finishing the look off with some long black boots that had laces all the way to the top and a dark green leather jacket. She slung the duffel with all her clothes in it over her shoulder and grabbed onto her laptop bag then headed out to meet Five on the tarmac.  She walked in the middle, the others chatting away behind her meanwhile One was up front, no doubt eager to get the planes engine started. 

Zero decided to sit in her own section, unlike the others she had some work to do and getting distracted wasn’t a option.  Two took the seat behind her, Three sat across from Two. While Four and Five where opposite Zero, Five sitting in the same row as her. Four just had to placed himself on the other row by the window, the perfect place to make side eye at her. Great! Now she had to deal with a 5 hour flight feeling him burn holes into my head and be the biggest distraction from her work.

"So.” His voice rang through the aeroplane that had just got very noisy due to One starting the engines. “How are you feeling this morning sweetheart?" His voice was like honey, it would something she could never ignore no matter how much she tried. His low tones sounded way better in person than over coms.

She smiled over at Four as best as she could, trying not to show how much the nickname effected her on the inside. "Fine.” She sighed. “More excited than nervous really. It's just great not to be stuck in a room 24/7.” She smiled taking the chance to now turn the tables and tease him. “How you feeling monkey boy?"

"Why do you have to call me that?” He leaned forward in his seat and rested his elbows on his knees staring intensely at her. “You could at least come up with something that sounds a bit more sexy, don’t you think?" He looked at her with a cute pout, something she thought he was trying to melt her with. 

“I think it’s sexy, monkey boy.” Three chimed in and everyone burst into laughter, but Four was glued to Zero.  She just scoffed. "I think you're the only person that thinks you're sexy, well apart from that blonde you picked up at the bar, and Thee of course." 

"Are you jealous, Zero? You know that was for mission purposes, besides I've seen the way you stare at me sweetheart." She just laughed, she’d lost count at the amount of times she’d scoffed at this boy.

She opened her laptop, fully intent on ignoring him the rest of the flight "Keep telling yourself that babe."

"You guys do know where all still here right?" One said awkwardly over the aeroplanes intercom. “Okay everyone strap in and shut up, we’re setting off now.” 

It was about an hour into the flight, everything had been considerately quiet since four at fallen asleep against the window, Zero would steal glances at him every once in a while. Seven announced that things would start to get bumpy, and Three started to get very uneasy. "You know I usually just look at the staff to see if I should be worried." She turned to see him clutching white knuckle to his seat.

"I think you mean the flight attendants, you can just look at me." Two said.

"Oh darling, no offence but you could be on fire and you'd have the same blank expression on your face." Zero turned to raise my eyebrows at Five, who looked back at her just as amused. and a look that said ‘something is definitely going on with these two.’ Zero nodded in agreement.

"You know what sucks guys, that if we were to crash." She looked over at Four this time to see if the commotion had woke him up, he opened one eye from his sleeping state to make a face at Five. "No one would ever care. Like we never existed." He said it loud enough for One to hear in the cockpit.

"You know I can hear you, if you're going to shit yourself there's a bathroom in the back.” Zero just giggled to herself and then got back to her work So this is what it was like to be truly around them, she liked it. It was always fun to hear their bickering over coms but this was even better, a warm feeling had started to invade her heart and a warm fuzzy feeling like home crept into her veins. It was nice to be around the right people again. They fought, they were sometimes asses but this was her true family and for once in her life she started to admire One for bringing such an amazing group of people together. She had decided in that moment that there was no where she’d rather be than here 35,000 feet up with the best bunch of idiots, and if she was to die on a mission she knew she had surrounded herself with the best adopted family she could have ever asked for.

When they finally landed, the colour is Three’s face gradually started to return, Zero took the opportunity while passing him in the aisle to pat him on the back, laughing as she exit. "Hey you little shit, don't make fun of me or I'll find out your fear." He just shouted after her retreating frame. They all dumped what little bags they had taken outside of the plane as One started the debrief one last time of the plan we were about to carry out. After about Twenty mins he decided to wrap it up. "Chowtime." One clasped his hands excitedly as the rest of the team cheered.

Zero decided that sitting at one of the higher tables would be more efficient for her to carry on her work, she’d almost finished on the plane but still had one more section to complete by tonight. She whipped out her note book, not feeling safe getting the laptop out in such an open and crowded space. But as soon as she’d put the paper on the table someone had ripped it out of her hands and in its place a bowl of noodles was set down.

"Hey!" She had began to protest looking up at the thief in question.

What she was not expecting was to be met with Four’s bright green eyes. Closing her note book, he placed it safely back in her laptop bag. "Do you ever stop working?" He sat down on the stool next to hers, and suddenly she was very self conscious. She tried to shake the feeling by directing her feelings to being annoyed he’d took her work, she sighed tilting her head at him. "It's been nonstop for three years of my life, I’m afraid at this point I don't know how to do anything else with my time."

"We could change that." He smirked.

She scoffed again, cracking open her chopsticks a little too aggressively but as to get the point across that she wasn’t in the mood for his flirting. "Excuse me, I'd like some alone time with my noodles."

"No come on.” He laughed, face turning more serious when he saw how fed up she was. “I’m sorry, I think we should start over."

"What?" She turned her head to him in confusion at how serious he’d become.

"We haven't had time to talk properly since you got here, seen as we've only really talked over the wire maybe we should have a fresh start." He held out his hand. "Hello, my names Four."

He at least managed to crack a small smile from her at this, she decided to humour him this once. Putting her chopsticks down, she took his hand and shook it. "Zero."

"What a beautiful name."

“Yeah,” She laughed. “Well, you should hear my real one.”

She’d completely forgotten about the electric pulse she had felt when they had brushed hands back in the hotel kitchen. But this time she was holding his hand and it felt like hot lava now, this fact meant she held onto it a little longer than she should have.  Suddenly letting go when the moment started getting awkward, she decided to focus on her noodles instead. 

"You know.” He started to talk again but she didn’t look up, taking another mouth full of noodles. “I was surprised that you didn't suddenly knock me on my ass when I came in." This made her laugh. "You've threatened me with it enough times."

"Well I could say the same for you.” He leaned in closer to her, his breath tickling the inside of her ear. “But there's plenty of time yet for that sweetheart.”  In a lower voice he continued. “I'll make you wait. Get you when you're least expecting it." He pulled back just to see her reaction, and was pleased with the blush on her cheeks.

She cleared her throat and decided to change the subject. "Are you nervous?" She asked not daring to look at him. "For the mission I mean."

"Why does everyone always ask me this." He huffed, leaning back on the stool.

"It's okay to be scared Four, fear is what keeps us alive." He didn't say anything, but when she finally looked up at him, he was looking at her with an emotion she just couldn't put her finger on.

"All you can ever do is your best." She smiled and finished up her noodles.

"I guess, hey! when did you get so smart?"

"Maybe about an hour ago?" They both just chuckled, finally the air around them settled.

"You guys finished? It's time to go." Seven said from behind them, putting his hand on Fours shoulder.

"Yeah, we're good." Zero smiled at Four as he passed her, her laptop bag.

As Zero started to walked out of the restaurant, Five caught her by her arm and linked them together, she then proceeded to hand Zero 50 dollars. "You were right, they did it in Vegas." She said defeated.

"Two and Three eh, maybe there hope for me after all." They both laughed as they crossed the road to catch up to the others who had already entered their hotel for the mission.

[tylluan-blodeuwedd]

Aisha! For the alphabet! She doesnt get enough love.

Hard agree, Aisha barely gets any love at all and she's such an interesting, fun character. I love doing these alphabets, they're a lot of fun, hope you like it.

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

You like to go on long walks, binge watch series together, she likes to take you to practice with her to watch, you also go to the beach club together, go to the mall to hang out, hang out in each others houses.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

Aisha loves a lot of physical things about you, but mostly she loves your consideration for other people, their circumstances, their lives. She loves that you just don't judge anyone, that you treat everyone equally while also being accommodating to them, and that you don't get angry with people for not doing something your way, at your pace.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

Aisha is familiar with panic attacks and feeling quite down in the dumps, she gets it, she doesn't try the "go outside maybe you'll feel better", "try exercising" rubbish that a lot of people spout. She's just a comfort, she'll just wait it out with you and try to calm you down, try to cheer you up and make you feel better, but if you can't, then she won't push it. 

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

You're both really young, ideally you just want to get through high school together, intact, college is a whole other concept right now, beyond that isn't even something you're considering. Living in the moment is much better to Aisha.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Fairly passive, her parents taught her communication and honesty is the best way and she wholeheartedly believes it, everything is discussed between you two. You make a lot of decisions as a couple and Aisha isn't really into pushing to take the lead on anything.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

Forgiveness isn't something that comes easily to Aisha I don't think, it really depends on circumstances of the problem

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

Aisha is grateful for things people have done for her, she's grateful to her Sensei and Miguel for helping her find her confidence, grateful to her parents, her teachers, everyone who's helped her in some way. When you do something for Aisha, you best bet she's aware of it, if you give something up to spend time with her, or you get her something, she's grateful.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

Aisha is really open and honest, she doesn't believe in secrets between partners, and her parents taught her that open honesty is best in the long run, so she tells you everything. Literally.

I nspiration - Did their s/o change them somehow, or the other way around? Like trying out new things or helped them overcome personal problems?

You don't really change Aisha except to bring her a little more peace, Aisha is a fairly well balanced person. You do however push her a little to try some new things she may not have because of a low confidence. Aisha helps you a lot with personal problems.

J ealousy - Do they get jealous easily? How do they deal with it?

Not really, she only gets jealous if someone is flirting with you, but even then it's a passive aggressive jealous, not full out brawling jealous. No fights just a "Hey babe" and an arm around you.

K iss - Are they a good kisser? What was the first kiss like?

She takes super good care of her lips, they're always soft and moisturized, no dry cracked kisses for you. Considering her first kiss was you, she's pretty good, they can be a little clumsy, but you can work on that.

Your first kiss was pretty simple, closed mouths, just a press of lips before pulling back to look at each other.

L ove Confession - How would they confess to their s/o?

The gap between the realisation of feelings and the confession was pretty big, a couple of months. She told Miguel about it, not knowing what to do, and the advice was to just go for it. So she took a while to build up the courage, then asked you to go out to a cafe after practice to talk, so over a cup of tea (I'm a tea drinker, soz guys) she told you. It was quite simple, there was really no misunderstanding when she said that she had feelings for you.

M arriage - Do they want to get married? How do they propose? What would the marriage be like?

I guess in future, you're teenagers rn so it isn't something she's thinking super hard about. If she were to propose though it would be really cute and private. Being married to Aisha would be so easy, she's so level headed and sensible, plus she takes no shit, though sometimes you'll have to de escalate a situation if someone really offends her.

N icknames - What do they call their s/o?

Mostly it's just a shortening of the name, she uses Babe a lot though.

O n Cloud Nine - What are they like when they are in love? Is it obvious for others? How do they express their feelings?

She's pretty much the same, outwardly she doesn't change that much, it's obvious you two are dating, but it isn't an in your face "look at me, here I am" ordeal. It's a cute, sweet, easy relationship. Aisha is very forward with her feelings, because bottling it up does nothing, and her parents taught her that honestly really is best.

P DA - Are they upfront about their relationship? Do they brag with their s/o in front of others? Or are they rather shy to kiss etc. when others are watching?

Aisha is super proud of you, when you started dating you kept it just to close friends knowing, then a few weeks later everyone knew. Low-key brags about you at the dojo and to her parents. Has zero fear of showing any kind of affection in public.

Q uirk - Some random ability they have that’s beneficial in a relationship.

Aisha just KNOWS stuff, she just knows, she can deduce things from a glance, and you get to nonverbal communication very quickly in your relationship.

R omance - How romantic are they? What would they do to make their s/o happy? Cliché or rather creative?

Aisha is super romantic at heart, Valentine's day is always going to be a treat, she does the cliche stuff, but is also very creative with romancing you. Aisha would do anything, barring a few extremes, to make you happy, and it really shows.

S upport - Are they helping their s/o achieve their goals? Do they believe in them?

Aisha will go above and beyond to support you in anything and everything, she will always want you to succeed and be happy.

T hrill - Do they need to try out new things to spice up your relationship? Or do they prefer a certain routine?

Your relationship is spicy enough with Karate war 2 going on, you're happy just as you are, you don't need to go cliff diving together or jump out of a plane to feel closer.

U nderstanding - How good do they know their partner? Are they empathetic?

Aisha knows you better than you know yourself, when something is wrong she knows what it is and how to fix it before you do 70% of the time. She's insanely empathetic towards you, she just gets you, and because of past bullying, she understands a lot of negative feelings and what they could lead to. She's a great source of stress release.

V alue - How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?

To Aisha, your relationship is really important, not only are you partners, you're also best friends, confidants. Your relationship definitely places in the tied top 3. Comparability to material things, possibly water, your friendship, your love is a necessity to survival.

W ild Card - A random Fluff Headcanon.

Aisha loves it when you play with her hair, she almost never lets anyone touch it, pretty much just you and her mother, but she loves it when you play with it and help her care for it. It's a pretty big sign of trust and love from Aisha.

X OXO - Are they very affectionate? Do they love to kiss and cuddle?

Somewhat, Aisha just really loves being in your presence, there's a lot of heads on shoulders, sitting close, walking with fingers linked. But you're not the kind that spoons watching tv, or makes out 24/7.

Y earning - How will they cope when they’re missing their partner?

You're both very chill in the relationship, even though you spend pretty much every day together you can still go a while without seeing each other and just text. If you're really really missing each other though, you both have a stuffy from the other, and you facetime/skype a lot.

Z eal - Are they willing to go to great lengths for the relationship? If so, what kind of?

Aisha would run into a burning building for you, she would go to the ends of the earth and back again just to see you smile because she knows you'd do the same for her. She defends you against every besmirching of your name.

[theassthatquits]

In the Margins Ch 4

You can read the first three chapters here.

Notes: This was a tough one for me to write because I kept wanting to jump back in time and tell the story of what happened, so now I have a bunch of writing about the specifics of their experiences and might turn that into something, lmk if that is interesting to you!

The text from the book is in bold and Barry’s notes are italicized. 

40 years is not a particularly long time for an elf, but it has been a very eventful and long 40 years. Lup doesn’t remember a lot of things and will often go through the journals Lucrecia keeps in the common room to remember specific things. Sometimes it’s like she’s reading a biography about someone else, not her or the people she loves. 

Reading this textbook was kind of like that.

This was from very early on, maybe 5 cycles in? They were still new to the whole regeneration thing and despite spending every waking moment together for half a decade, the crew didn’t fully trust each other yet. They weren’t the family they are now and their personalities clashed a lot. While Lup and Taako were pretty sociable, they didn’t get close with people. Revisiting this year was a reminder of who they were before they found their family. It was uncomfortable to remember those feelings, yet satisfying and heartwarming to know how far they have come and what they have created.

The first thing that Lup noticed about this book was that Barry’s name (his real name) was written in the cover: Sildar Hallwinter. And underneath that, in parentheses, was scrawled in newer ink: (Barry Bluejeans).  She smiled to herself and grazed her fingers over the older print, as if attempting to feel the spirit of the man who once wrote that. Lup and Taako weren’t the only ones who have changed in the last several decades. 

The first chapter was all about the history of the celebrations: The plane was in constant strife, people weren’t happy. Then the 7 deities came down from the Astral Plane and claimed to have the solution to all of their problems. Everyone was desperate for a reprieve and followed everything they said. Each God had their own lesson and thus the seven celebrations were born:

The Day of Sacrifice

The Day of Humility

The Day of Honesty

The Day of Reconciliation

The Day of Love

The Day of Warmth

The Day of Dance

It was easy to tell which notes were made by Sildar and which were made by Barry. (Her Barry she thought subconsciously and then shook the thought away because he isn’t hers, necessarily). 

The older notes were in more faded ink, its age clearly showing. They were also more focused on the academic side of history, adding in details that he had learned from the residents or theorizing about different things. The newer notes were in crisp, dark ink and they told the story of what had actually happened during those different celebrations while they lived there. It seems Barry was recently doing quite the walk down memory lane. 

Flipping to the first celebration, Lup tried to recall any specifics about this year. She remembered having a lot of fun at the different parties and events they went to, there were some weird ones and uncomfortableness, but she remembered mostly positive feelings. This was the year she and Barry started to become actual friends, she’s pretty sure. They fought side by side against the hunger at the end of that year, backs pressed up together shooting off spells as the Starblaster took off. She was stabbed through the abdomen and collapsed in his arms. The last thing she remembers of that year was staring into his eyes as he yelled her name while holding her tight, even though they were about to regenerate on the ship in a matter of minutes.

This was something she wouldn’t find out about Barry until much later in their journey - he felt everything, and he felt it incredibly deeply. 

----

The Day of Sacrifice

Tedes, the God of Humility, had watched over the town very closely for a long time. He had observed how they tended to use their best traits and strengths against one another, instead of using them to come together. After some consideration, he thought his lesson would be to take away what they valued the most. These were not material goods that were so casually ripped away from everyone’s being; Tedes took away the sense of self.

He took traits, abilities, memories that were so intrinsically tied to everyone’s being and simply took it away for the day. 

On the side, Sildar had written what each of them lost:

Davenport - Confidence/Ability to lead

Taako - Taste

Lucretia - Writing ability

Magnus - Strength

Merle - Healing powers

Lup - Fire Magic

Barry - Desire to learn

Oh, yeah. It was starting to come back to her, waking up that morning and everyone realizing that they had lost something. Taako was first, he woke up the ship with his distressed wail about not being able to taste his morning iced coffee. They had just thought he was catching a cold, nothing to be super concerned about. Davenport brought Merle over to try to maybe help but no matter how hard he tried, Merle couldn’t cast any healing magic. Things just spiraled from there until Lup, in her fury to figure out what the fuck was going on, found this book. She remembered being angry at Barry, that he didn’t seem to want to know what was going on and why. The horrible realization that she couldn’t cast anything, couldn’t defend her and Taako. She was afraid it would last forever, having to rely on the other members of the group for their magical abilities. Magnus went through something similar, the man designated to protect them all could barely lift his weapon. 

It had been a tense day, full of snark and attitude. Lucrecia had decided to go back to bed, hoping to sleep through the day. Taako furiously whipped up every potent recipe he could, throwing his spoon across the kitchen every time he tried to taste something and couldn’t. Barry just….actually, she wasn’t sure what Barry did during that day. She didn’t remember seeing him after snapping at him for not helping her. 

A little pang of guilt showed up in her chest, she was pretty nasty to him that day. He didn’t deserve that. Maybe she could make it up to him somehow. 

The first Day of Sacrifice was chaos. Everyone panicked, losing something so important to them without knowing for sure if it would ever return was devastating to so many. Then something remarkable happened - they turned to each other. That night, after arguing and fighting and mass panic, the village gathered in the center of town and simply talked. Those who could still cook brought food and the townspeople, who had been so divided just hours before, told stories of their past. What they lost and what that had meant to them. What they would do if it never returned. 

This is an exercise in trust, Sildar had written. Trust others enough to be vulnerable in front of them, trust that others will help when it is needed, trust that what was lost will be returned. It took a long time for us to figure this out. Talked with Magnus, Lucrecia, Davenport, and Merle. I think we are stronger for it now. I only made the connection after Lup threw this book at me. 

So that’s what he was doing, holding a therapy session with the rest of the crew. A little jealous that she wasn’t involved, but she did take off into the woods soon after throwing said book at Barry. There was another note underneath that one, written by Barry many years later. 

Trust that others will help when it is needed. I will trust her until the end of my days. 

Still prefer trust fall exercises instead of this, though.

She blushed and smiled, heart skipping at the thought of him writing about her. Putting the book, Lup stood up and went to go find him, suddenly eager to be in his presence. 

[drprettyboyspence]

Lilapsophobia

Dr. Spencer Reid/reader 

Summary: The reader is the newest member of the BAU and she just happens to be terrified of tornadoes. Her best friend and secret crush Dr. Spencer Reid helps her when she starts feeling overwhelmed on the jet. Takes place during the jet scene in Season 7 Episode 7 “There’s no place like home”

words: 1.4k 

warnings: minor description of plane crashes, nothing else to my knowledge! 

a/n: The jet scene from this episode is one of my fav scenes and I wanted to write from the perspective of someone feeling a little anxious due to the nature of this episode. Hope you like it! 

lilapsophobia (n.) - the abnormal fear of tornadoes or hurricanes, considered the more severe type of astraphobia, fear of thunder and lightning. 

The jet shakes once again and I take into consideration the winces on the faces of the team, even Hotch. That’s how I know this is bad, Hotch’s straight face almost never breaks. I glance out the window to my right, the sky outside so gray it almost appears green, only reminding me of the constant warnings I received as a child, “If the sky is green during a thunderstorm, go down to the basement and don’t come out.” Great, if only my family could see me now, about as far from a basement as I can possibly get, 35,000 feet in the air. The clouds are swirling in huge arcs outside the jet and each second it seems the wind is getting stronger against the flimsy wings. We’ve been summoned to Wichita, Kansas,  responding to the recovery of two young boys found in the rubble of recent tornados. I’m the newest member of the BAU team, the youngest too, joining the team at only 24 years old. The whispering had started almost immediately, finally Dr. Spencer Reid had met his match, Agent Y/n Y/l//n.

 I had been extremely nervous to meet the famous Dr., scared that he would see me as competition, that I was trying to take his place, or that he would look down on me. I could not have been more wrong, Spencer and I have become the best of friends in the months I’ve been working with this team and secretly, I have a bit of a crush on him as well. That’s something I refuse to tell anybody, not even the girls of the BAU, who I have become extremely close with as well. The clink of water glasses shaking on the table brings me out of my memories, forcing me to direct my attention to Spencer who has begun speaking,

“You know, if this unsub is using tornadoes as a forensic countermeasure then Kansas certainly is the ideal setting. Tornadoes do pose a significant threat, during this year’s super outbreak back in April there were 336 confirmed tornadoes in just several days resulting in over 300 lives lost.” Great, that makes me feel so much better. I glance at Spencer in shock, how does he say stuff like that in such a calm manner, all I can picture is this plane falling out of the sky right about… 

“Hey! Tell us something good mama.” Morgan says as Garcia’s face pops up on the screen. I don’t think I’ve ever envied her more than I do right now, safe on the ground in her bat cave at Quantico, thousands of miles from any type of tornado. I try my best to focus on the information she feeds to us through the monitor, having uncovered valuable information about the two victims that will help us solve the case. I know I need to use my brain, this isn’t the time to let a silly childish phobia get in the way of my job, even if, as Spencer just said, tornadoes do pose a significant threat. Garcia clicks off after Emily says something about the unsub fetishizing the missing limbs, what I would give to press a button and be transported to safety. The jet shakes the most violently it has yet and Rossi grimaces, grasping onto the side of his seat tightly as I hear the click of Spencer’s seat belt, the knowledge that the brave genius is feeling anxious only making me feel worse. Rossi begins forming a cross over his body, prompting Spencer to remark

“I didn’t know you were a bad flyer.” Well Spencer neither am I but something about being 35,000 feet in the air in a small aircraft with the genius next to me spitting out facts about the danger of tornadoes might just make anybody a bad flyer. 

“I’m not, I just hate turbulence.”  Rossi responds and I can already sense what’s coming next, cue the statistics from Dr. Spencer Reid that are sure to make exactly no one feel better about our current situation. 

“You know, turbulence very rarely causes planes to crash.” Oh well that’s good at least, I think as I loosen up my grip on the seat slightly. 

“That does me absolutely no good at the moment, thank you.” Rossi sassily responds. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so terrified in this moment. I usually find Spencer’s outbursts cute but right now I’m too on edge to hear one more fact about the probability we are all going to die a fiery plane-crash death. 

“What we really need to worry about are micro-bursts.” Oh no. Rossi and I share a quick panicked look as we both know what’s coming. “The sudden downburst of air associated with thunderstorms, but a small craft like this if we hit one of those at the wrong altitude, boom, pulverized.” I feel as though the room is spinning when he says that, how does he seem so calm? 

“I beg of you to make him stop.” Rossi says to JJ from across the plane. Suddenly I feel as though I’m going to be sick, quickly jumping up and stumbling my way to the bathroom, leaving Spencer asking me if I’m okay. Once in the bathroom I strangely feel the smallest bit more stable but all of the stress is adding up and I start crying. I know it’s ridiculous, I’m an FBI agent, I put myself in life-threatening situations every day, but I’m terrified of tornadoes. 

“Y/n, are you okay?” I hear the soft voice of Spencer outside the door and I frantically try to wipe the tear streaks off my face to no avail, it’s painfully obvious I’ve been crying. I reluctantly unlock the door, not wanting Spencer to see me like this. He shields me from the rest of the team, FBI profilers are nosy as hell. He closes the door behind him and if I wasn’t so overwhelmed right now I would laugh at the fact that I’m locked in a jet bathroom with my crush right now, our friends on the other side of the door probably wondering what on earth is going on. “Oh Y/n, what’s wrong? Is it that thing I said, I’m quite sure we aren’t going to hit any microbursts. I’m sorry I’ve upset you.” 

“No, no, Spence, it wasn’t you, ugh this is so embarrassing, I’m just, uh, I’m really scared of tornadoes, have been since I was a little kid, I’m just overwhelmed, I’m really sorry about this, it’s ridiculous.” 

“Y/n, why didn’t you tell me you had lilapsophobia, 1 in 10 people have a fear of extreme weather, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Here, let’s get out of this cramped bathroom because you just know we’ll never hear the end of it from Morgan.” He wipes the remaining tears off my face as I nod, feeling so much better with Spencer here with me. We leave the bathroom and Spencer leads me to the couch, sitting down with me. It’s like he knew I was feeling extremely exhausted all of a sudden. 

“Why don’t you try and sleep for a little Y/n, we won’t be landing in Wichita for a while and we need you at your best to solve this case, I can’t function without my partner in crime-solving, you know that.” My eyes are getting droopy even as the plane continues to shake, I feel safe in Spencer’s arms as he begins to stroke the back of my neck, hoping to relieve some of the stress I’m under. 

“You don’t have to do all of this Spencer, really, thank you though, it’s so sweet of you, but I should take care of myself.” I say, but it's painfully obvious I’m melting into Spencer’s touch, finally relaxing for the first time since I heard about this tornado-centered case. 

“Nonsense Y/n, there’s nothing to be ashamed of as I said before, and I’m never going to stop taking care of you, remember that sweetheart.” He then places a quick kiss on my forehead, not caring about the teasing we’ll receive from every member of the team, even Hotch, and god forbid Garcia if she ever catches word of this, we’ll never hear the end of it, well maybe I don’t care anymore. Just before I fall asleep in Spencer’s embrace I think, for the first time in my life, I’m ready for whatever lies ahead in Wichita, even tornadoes. 

[seventhfracture]

Q. 3, 5, 8-11, 20, 34, 37, 40, 42, 43, 60, 65, 70, 81, 82 & 87 for the OTP (lawlight?) questions please? <3

1. Who kissed who first?

Light kissed L first, as part of a scheme. And Light’s a good actor, sure, but he was a little more into it than he would like to admit. Meanwhile L was the first one to kiss Light with genuine feeling. That too was a calculated powerplay, but the feeling was still sincere.

2. What do they like the most about each other?

They’re big fucking sapiosexuals. Light writes real Byronic romanticism into all of L’s awkward features because his intelligence and ruthlessness make Light wet. L meanwhile wouldn’t care if Light was a bridge troll with twice the stank so long as he still had his voice. L loves his wit, his smarts, but he also loves the wicked fakeness in Light he can see straight through. It makes Light his own little secret because no one else notices.

3. Who tends to worry the most?

Light has back up plans A through Z-23. He’s always got a second strategy up his sleeve. He likes watching all his perfectly laid dominoes fall into place. L meanwhile has enough confidence in his intelligence that he assumes he will succeed first time and, if he doesn’t, that’s exciting and he thrills in the chance to wing it with real stakes.

4. Who is more inclined to be jealous or possessive?

Light is used to being the centre of attention. He likes having people fawn over him. L knows these people don’t interest Light at all, not really, but it still irritates him when they get too forward and Light smiles all cute. L likes to shut that down very quickly and Light sulks for a second before he revels in L being possessive.

Light, meanwhile, isn’t used to people expressing an attraction to L and it makes him seethe. “No, my L.” He grumbles plotting their demise. L often doubts the sincerity of people who show attraction to him. He’s not trying to be attractive after all. And, even if they are genuine, they’re dull so….

5. How do they resolve their arguments?

They don’t often sincerely disagree but if they do there are stages to an L/Light argument. First there’s the bitching and insulting, then there’s the elaborate backstabbing, then there’s the furious angry sex, then they actually sit down and talk like adults for 5 minutes. Once the issue is resolved they rinse, lather and repeat with something new.

6. Who is the most physically affectionate?

L doesn’t seem like a physical person but he likes to touch. He likes to feel close. He’ll stroke Light like a cat and Light will melt. Light sometimes hesitates to get physical.

7. Do they give each other nicknames?

They have a few epitaphs that are filled with admiration but nicknames? They usually only break them out when they’re having a covert fight in public or if they’re trying to have degrading sex.

8. What do they do when the other is stressed?

L rarely gets work stress. His stress is often more personally based. Light isn’t always quite sure how to reach him when he clams up but Light is nothing is not patient/stubborn. He’s always there when L is ready.

L likes to be proactive with Light stress. If he can solve Light’s problem by throwing money at it he won’t hesitate. Money is replaceable, Light is not. He’s also keen to strategize but sometimes Light is worked up over problems he’s inventing and L needs to call him on his bullshit. Which gets him the cold shoulder for a day before any thanks.

9. Thoughts on PDA(Public Displays of Affection)?

L would fuck Light in front of an audience if he got the all clear. Light meanwhile doesn’t enjoy PDA. He has too many considerations about how others are perceiving him and what it impacts to really relax. Exhibitionism though? Weeeeell that’s a little different. Sneaky fucking in public can be fun.

10. Thoughts on kids?

Light is not keen to have children. They don’t suit him. L has the Wammy’s extended family so he rarely sees the need for more family.

11. Thoughts on each other’s family?

Light loves Wammy’s and he gets very involved as Watari gets older. Light is the one who remembers to send gifts and congratulations for ever life event for the other orphans. L finds Light’s family a little pedantic but they’re harmless and playing nice with them keeps Light happy.

12. Favorite family member of their lover? (Example: Lover 1 enjoys Lover 2’s mother the most)

L will say Soichiro is his favourite because Light adores his father but secretly L likes Ryuk the most. He feels the most authentically connected to Light, knows the real him, and is the kind of creature L would choose to spend recreational time with.

Light will say Mello is his favourite and they’ll gossip like high school girls, send each other stupid presents, laugh like cats. But deep down Light thinks the most of Near. Near is harder to control or manipulate but Light sees more in Near he values and respects.

13. Who will punch someone out if they are rude to their partner?

Light doesn’t punch. If Light doesn’t like you it would be best to take out a life insurance policy. L meanwhile is petty as fuck. If someone insults Light, in a genuinely cruel way, L’s not above trashing their career and their credit score systematically.

14. Who loves kids more?

L is more at ease with random children. Light makes a good show of it but he’s internally quite uncomfortable. Light needs to bond with a specific child before he can really unwind. L is just used to an unending stream of orphans so he’s got chill big brother energy.

15. Who is the hopeless romantic?

They both love a romantic gesture. They’re both real drama queens. Light will go medieval about it “here are the hearts of your enemies” whereas L is more 1950s black and white movies about it “I bought us both plane tickets to Monaco, don’t pack a bag, you won’t need it”

16. Who is the one that sees the big picture, while the other focus’s on the small details?

They’re both very detailed focused. But L is more relaxed about what long term looks like. Light meanwhile will plan the next forty years if you leave him alone for 2hrs.

17. What is an inside joke they have?

Ryuk is one huge inside joke. They both communicate with Ryuk while other people are around in really sneaky ways and they’ll make comments about him to each other in front of people. |

“Go ask your other boyfriend, maybe he’ll say yes?” L will joke

“I’m so glad you’re home. The ghost and I used all the wifi while you were gone.” Light will say.

18. Do one of them sleep talk? If so, what do they say?

Light talks pure nonsense in his sleep. Including arguing that he’s awake when he’s sleep talking.

[ficsnroses]

Friends With Benefits Chapter 8 - Keanu Reeves x Reader

Chapter VIII ~ The Death of Us.

Part 1  Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  Part 5  Part 6 Part 7

Word Count : 3.7K

Warnings : so much angst omg. nsfw, smut. crying? 

Series Summary :  What happens when two, lonely friends start seeing each other for sex? A tricky friends with benefits love story, when feelings get in the way.

A/N : Oh gosh. Welcome back, three more chapters after this! let’s get this show wrapped up by June. Feedback is so so greatly appreciated, please do leave comments if ya get a sec :)

Chapter 7 Recap : Keanu and Y/N sort out their argument, and Y/N apologizes for her behaviour. They spend an evening together, and Keanu decides he’ll put his feelings aside to keep Y/N happy; keep their relationship as solely fwb and nothing else. However, after ending up in bed together again, Y/N leaves Keanu’s home in tears late into the evening, unable to bear the reality, that their relationship will perhaps never be more than just sexual. 

.

Being lost; when the mind and heart won’t work in harmony.

You’ll find peace,

            Through harmony, they whisper.

The untouched hills and thick ash clouds promise solitude, they become tempting as the streetlights pass, light fading away before shot back up in the next lamppost’s amber glow. Beyond the hills, they cease. The surrounding land falls remote, only whispers of gusty dry wind and occasional howl of the nightly residents breaking amity. A blanket of silence falls the car, the feel of the cold steering wheel riveted in your clammy fingers,

the only tolerable sensation.

Skin frigid, yet your insides burn. A never ending burn- the sensation almost brings you comfort, something strangely familiar as of late; your facial muscles barely twitch, lacklustre formed to the thought of what you’d just run away from. What you’d left behind. Tension, apprehension exaggerated in the lines of his forehead. A faint grimace lingers the planes of your face, heart in agony to the thought of those haunting dusky orbs, drained and spent as he watched you leave.

He has a heart of gold, and you know you’re killing him. He cares for the ones who mean something to him far too much. You’re hurting him. You know it. It felt as if you’d constantly been pushing him, pulling him, never quite finding the balance you craved.

After all, only your weak, mortal shell remains, the breeze filtering in from the slightly cracked passenger window a residual grace to your skin.

Your dreary mind never leaves the passing streetlights. They seem almost as pulses of light, rhythms of transition on your tedious drive home. The light comes back around just when you start to need it most; the piercing glow ignites your way,

fleetingly although. 

Even the streetlights end down the road- for down the road, never-ending darkness is all that’s left to perverse.

Keanu. Maybe you and Keanu, would be out of streetlights soon.

How long could this go on anyway? When you started out, the rules were clear. Love hadn’t been factored into the equation, yet here you were. You are in love with the only man you weren’t supposed to be with. And you can run from it; from yourself. But you can't be with him around. Not when your relationship is founded on exactly what lovers do- yet a fallacy, for you.

You’d been looming in silence, for what felt like an absurd eternity. Lost in thought, as if silently quarrelling to yourself that you need to let him go. He doesn’t deserve this; you don’t deserve this. 

The sudden sputter of the car engine creaking rumbles, the reverberations of turbulence so dense as the turmoil increases, the worn out tires faltering slow. Gravity sinks its nails in, immediately dragging them down,

slow,

slow,

            before they stop.

Don’t they say, the one you long for never leaves your mind? Your thoughts are free to roam anywhere, chase any reverie, yet it's surprising how often they head in his direction. His words seem to spring as a song well rehearsed, a melody tuned a thousand times. “You need to get rid of this thing, Y/N.” - the ring of his slight chuckle cursing through your remembrance. “It’s going to break down on you someday.” He’d reason, tone thick on concern.

Ingrained on your mind, a thick groan coarses your lips, wheel clenched in your hand. Slammed on the wheel, your palm stings with pierce, frustration copious in each action, each movement.

Of course, this would happen to you. Stranded, at 11:00pm on an empty LA street, your home still miles away awaits. The towers and mechanics would have bid goodnight a while past, and you didn’t quite know enough people in town to call. Apart from,

the same man you’d just practically run from.

Your jaw clenches and your features fall stoic, left no other choice than to see if Keanu could come by. What would he think? Perhaps pity. Perhaps, disappointment. Feasibly, the infamous “I told you so”. Truth be told, he may have been the last person you wanted to see right now. The last person you wanted to ask for help. Perhaps it was your own personal defence mechanism; your chant to the world, to him, that you’re fine. You don’t need someone, even if that someone was him.

A chilled gust of wind propels through the car window, uncertainty broad on your mind. With your fingers gripping the cold frame of your cellphone, you anticipate his voice on the other end, as if in a race with your own mind. Had you even known what to say? What does one say when they’ve practically left you, without reason, knowing it hurt you? Yet again, the universe proves. Your vanity ends in failure.

You’d sworn a breath had caught in your lungs when you heard his voice on the other end, deep and worn, a drowse apparent. He’d probably tried to get some shut eye after the happening of the eve, and yet again, as always, you’d intruded. 

“Y/N?” His voice holds confusion. You swallow a lump, unsure of how to start. “Hey,” Adopting a milder, soft tone than when you’d left. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Are you okay? Something wrong?” He inquires, a ruffle of movement on the other end. Defeated, your cold hand runs through the weary strands of locks on your head, the smell of burnt gasoline impelling the tip of your senses, dense and robust.

                 Isn’t it funny, how the smell of gasoline is so pleasurable, even though you know it’s bad?

Guilt. Finding pleasure in the wrong place. It’s not good for you. Why must some of the best things not be good for you?

“I’m on 231st. My car gave out on me.”

There’s a slight silence that falls to the line; unsympathetic, hollow, ambiguous. Would he care? What if he’d been upset over how you’d left tonight? What if he’d finally had enough of these abrupt changes of pace? Keanu and you seemed to never get it right, never finding the balance you so desperately wanted.

In a moment, he begins, more ease to your hurtling mind now. “Don’t go anywhere.” He replies. “Stay in your car, lock the doors and keep your phone close by.” The door slams shut on his end, heavy footsteps pacing to the car. “Be safe, okay? I’m on my way.”

Relief washes over, seeing his tall frame and concerned expression trekking towards your car door. He’d been the last person you wanted to call; yet also the first, the only person you wanted to see. There’s always been something so familiar about him, something so comforting, something you can seem to escape.

The evening air is powered with something indefinite, twilight fallen with the first buzz of mosquitos in the distance. The air stood damp and cool, his features a little softer in the darkness that surrounds.

He opens the car door, allowing you to step out, your gaze unknowingly fixed to the pavement below. Relief shone clear and bright on his face, his urge to pull you to his chest; give you the security you deserved right now strong. Yet, he opts for a mellow hand placed to your shoulder, cautious from the events of the evening prior. “You’re okay?” He asks, giving a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah.” You nod. “Thanks for coming, really.” Assuring, your hand waves slight, a gesture of peace. “I know it’s really late and-” swift, his hand raises, waving off your words, considerate. With a nod of his head, he gestures you towards his car, heavy palm reverting to the small of your back now as he guides you, his need to make sure you’re really safe and okay fresh on his mind.

“My place is a lot closer, I’ll take you with me.” He casually throws out, prepared for the argument he knew you’d put up.

“No, it’s alright, really. You know I’m only 15 minutes from here.” You maintain, turning your gaze his way. With a sigh, he starts again, eyes hefty with please.

“Y/N, please.” His eyes clench shut, features tight and dense, breathing in a deep inhale. “I didn’t want you to leave tonight, but you did. And now this…” The street around you was quiet, dim light and distant cars humming made the atmosphere almost far from comfortable. “Please.” He reiterates. Glancing up towards the moonless black, you bite back another weary sigh. Perhaps…

“Okay.” Sucking in a dull breath, you gesture to his car, him following suit as with your enfeeble bones take place in the passenger seat. With his hand firm on the drive, he pulls onto the dark LA road, his house en route, lines on his forehead exaggerated with concern for the woman he loves so dearly, but can’t have.

You’d been acting strange lately, far too distant for his liking. It seemed as if no matter how hard you both tried, you couldn’t find the balance. Couldn’t find whatever it was you needed to save your sinking ship. And it was eating away at him, killing him to know that undeniably, undoubtedly,

you were slipping away.

            even if he never really had you.

It had been a tough night, a tough day for both of you. Yet, his mind only wondered what you were feeling. Were you alright? Did you hate him for making you come back? He needed to be let in so desperately, needed to know what was written out to be far too soon. It had been tough for both of you today, yet he only cared about you. You before him, always. With his eyes briefly diverting to you, staring out the car window with an intent gaze, he shifts his hand slowly, gently to rest over yours on your lap.

To say it hurt him when you flinched, so slightly, barely noticeable, would be an understatement.

It shot daggers in him.

Yet, he offers a gentle squeeze when you keep it in place ultimately. “What are you thinking about?” He offers, voice smooth, expression mildly curious as he turns to look at you, filling the silence.

You stay quiet for a moment, gaze never leaving the mountains outside, passing by. That feeling had come back. The feeling of assurance, the feeling of being safe with him. You almost wished your brain would forget how sheltered he made you feel.

It would make all this a lot easier.

“It was raining not long ago.” You speak, voice soft, low. His lips stiff straight in a thin line, minor hum of nod through his breath. Your tone stays quiet, the thought of him heavier on your mind than the sharp LA mountains outside could ever be. “But it stopped.”

“It always stops” He speaks. “Sooner or later.”

His voice had that gentle hum to it, the serene sedative comfort. And then to the thought of it, you stared out the window, and stared, and stared, and stared.

He placed his hands on your soul,

before reaching for your hips; or your lips. And that was what ruined you.

How did you ever let it get this way? How did you ever let it get

   this

   way.

Late into the eve, you’d found yourself back exactly where gravity seemed to pull you, each time. There, with him, under him while he made love to you; only the love was what was missing, and with Keanu, it seemed it would always be. He isn’t in this relationship, he never was, never will be. It’s just you, alone, hoping, pleading that he’ll see through you; understand what this is not how you want him.

With the only light in the room filtering in from the moon side glow & the LA city night lights, you feel him on top, weight of his body on yours, his arms on either side of you holding the bed as he thrusts. His features are barely defined, yet you make out a thin line of sweat on his forehead; mouth slightly agape, breaths rugged and low. His chest heaves, cock pulsing inside your clenched cunt, the bed frame rocks, hitting the wall with each jerk. He wasn’t touching you in any other way than his member pumping your warm, wet folds, hastily, a controlled pace steady with his rocking hips. His balls slam, hitting your core each time, loud in the quiet room as you whimper quietly, fingernails sunk into the blades of his shoulders,

and with each slam, you feel yourself further and further realizing,

         This isn’t working anymore.

This is all you know with him, so this is what you do. And you know you had no right to be upset over it. This is what you signed up for. You did this. You let it get this way.

These aren’t the sounds you want to hear anymore. This isn’t the way you want to feel him anymore. These sounds, these sinful sounds compare none to what you want, what you need. 

You wanted it all, 

the soft whispers, quiet laughs shared late into the night. The sound of his pure voice when you haven’t heard it for a while, the gentle hum of his throat when he’d tell you he loves you. The simple, mundane life together. A life where he’s a significant part, but in more ways than just this.

Your bodies shudder with pleasure, but you know it’s only a temporary illusion. You see him, and you want to feel him so close, but not this way. This isn’t what you ever wanted, it was never what you really wanted. That night when you first had sex a year ago should have never happen. And it should have never happened again, and again, and again.

You did this to your friendship. And now it’s too far gone for fixing; too far lost to mend.

This isn’t working anymore.

This isn’t working anymore.

The morning comes, as it always does. Your bones feel as if they ache, tired eyes needing a moment to adjust to the light around, remembering where you were. In Keanu’s bed, yet the spot beside you lays empty, vacant. Finding yourself bare from the waist under, you remember the sex session the night prior, and you’d opted to leave your bottoms on the bedroom floor as he drifted to sleep, beside you.

Was there even anything to hide from him anymore? Nothing he hadn’t seen a hundred times. 

With a lift of the heavy duvet, you barely climb out of the mattress, shimmying on the full of your clothes, before heading downstairs. You should be outta here soon, anyway.

The house air smells of dark coffee, the scent of a morning cigarette barely filtering in from the patio backdoors. You’d always hoped he’d quit the nasty habit, take better care of his health where he could.

Cold tiles trace under your feet, a small yawn elicited when you feel your weary bones ache, wanting nothing more than to go home, away from him for now. Seeing him, being around him was proving to be far too hard. There was no running from it now. It was clear as could be, laid out on the table.

You are in love with him. You know it, and you know it shouldn’t be.

But it is. It so fiercely, truly, is.

You find him stood by the window, gazing beyond the backyard foliage, phone propped to his ear as he speaks low, quiet. Making yourself known with a slight cough, your eyes meet as his frame turns, lips curled to a smile your way. His cocoa orbs look dewy in the morning light, cheeks rosy with a slight excitement, something so warm, so inviting.

You’d wish to hold him in your arms, just that way. Keep him that way forever.

Sitting at the kitchen stool, you wait for him to finish on the line, before you’d let him know of your soon departure.  Within a few moments, Keanu retires the phone call, moving your way. 

“Morning.” He greets, pouring you a roasty cup of a.m. coffee from the burner.

“I’m okay.” You return, shifting in your seat to sit straighter now. “I’m just about heading out actually, an Uber’s on the way.”

Brows furrowed, he speaks. “You just woke up. Stay, I’ll make us breakfast.” With a sip of his earthy dark, he sets his phone down on the granite counter, a lingering smile catching your eye. “I wanted to talk to you about something, actually.”

Your hands find place in your lap, listening to his words. “Oh...okay. Sure. What’s up?” You inquire, unsure, yet slightly hopeful it may be something you so desperately wanted to hear, something you’d frantically hoped he’d let fall off his lips; that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same.

That maybe, you could find the balance, together.

His hand runs through his overgrown, dusty mocha locks, a small chuckle let off. “Okay, I just got off the phone with an acquaintance who deals autos.” Your expression reverts to plain, a pierce of defeat courses through your nerves. “And there’s this brand new model of a great car. You just need to sign the paperwork and it’s yours. I’ll take care of it.” He tells, 

and you swore you’d heard a slight hint of sympathy to his tone. Cold, pitiful, 

sympathy. Is that what you were now?

“It would cost more to fix the one you have now than it's even worth.” He explains, watching your expression fall. “And I don’t want you having to worry about it, you deserve a break. Really.” He reasons, trying his best to make out the look on your fallen face.

With your eyes set on the counter below, your thoughts scramble, desperate to gather, choke out a response. But nothing comes out. Nothing at all for the first few moments.

“Y/N?” He asks, head tilting in an attempt to meet your lowered gaze. To be met with assertion; affirmation, is not what he’d thought would come, when the wavelengths of your sunken voice allow into the now colder room air.

Headstrong, yet collected, you regret the words he’d said. “Who do you think you are?” You say, voice low, yet assertive. Your hands unknowingly ball into a fist, emotions running high through your veins. “What is this, charity?” Standing now, you push the counter stool away, finally bringing your irate eyes up to his. “I don’t need your charity.”

“Y/N,” He starts, a hushed breath slipping past his lips as he stares wide eyed. You looked destroyed almost, raw, a sight he felt break at him.

“No.” You stop him, hand moving up to block his trek further. “Don’t.” Whispering, your voice breaks, the feel of complete, and utter, defeat gnawing your bones. There was a dull ache of exhaustion nearing your temple, your forehead pulsing, but you’d gotten very good at disregarding it by now.

His features tense, regret seeped. “Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that.” He reasons, attempts at moving your way shunned as you back away now, toward the door. You force your fingers to relax their deadly clench in your balled fist, eyes shut tight as you desperately pray this wasn’t happening.

It was finally happening. 

It was inevitable.

“Y/N,” He pleads, fearful that this time,

the rain would abide for good, transpiring a full fledged storm. And it wouldn’t end.

Not now, not ever. It’s all too much, & the friendship, the companionship feels far gone. It’s turned to sympathy.

You turn his way abruptly, locking eyes, voice dipping into something colder as you begin, tears forming in the corner drops of your eyes. “Did you even bother thinking about how this makes me feel? Or did it not matter because you’re ‘Keanu The Great’, fixing the entire world’s problems? And I’m just another hopeless case in the bunch?” You say louder than intended, lip quivering with a shame that felt wounded, the pain of him becoming more unbearable by the second. He watches you, and it's killing him to see you this hurt.

It’s killing him that he did this. Again. He fucked up, again. He feels the sting of tobacco on his tongue from a burned smoke earlier, but doesn’t look away from your eyes; despite the firm voice inside telling him that he should.  He watches you, unable to move. Unable to leave.

Unable to do anything at all to make it alright.

“You’re not…a charity case for me, Y/N. How could you ever think-” He barely manages, voice faltering thick in his deep throat, wanting so desperately to reach out and hold you in the comfort of his arms, explain that everything can be okay again.

Yet his words only seem to add fuel to the fire inside you, voice channeling through the house walls as you dispute. “Not a charity case?’ You fathom, jaw tightened as you try your best to uphold assertion, dominance. “We sleep together, for fuck sake!” You almost cry, feeling each and every wall around you,

Crumble. Crumble to shreds.

“Did you not once think how much this would hurt me? How degrading this feels?” you’d tried hard, yet they’d escaped. The tears escaped; and the end was near.

His legs move again, inching near your feeble frame. “I’m so sorry, Y/N, please, hear me out.” He pleads, reaching for the soft skin of your arm, as you retract away, wiping your bleary eyes. “Okay, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.” He begs, backing away for your comfort, his own heart breaking piece by piece for his love in front of him, hurting, and it’s all

his

fault. 

“Please don’t cry, Y/N. Im sorry, really.” His weary hand runs through his hair, scared, in fear that he’d hurt your relationship forever, and any attempts at being more. “We’ll talk later, sweetheart. Okay?” He tries, hoping the nickname would bring calm to your rage. Noting Keanu’s expression, your watery eyes stay focused on his, sincerely connected, and you allow your features to soften, adopting a milder, more reasoned tone. With your voice cracking, you speak ultimately into the morning air, the words set solid, 

forever.

“No we won’t.” You begin, swallowing the lump in your throat. “This isn’t working anymore.” You croak, the tears burning so bad now, filling your eyes. “We’re over.”

And the words pierce through Keanu, as if the bullet of a thousand guns force. His heart drops, left nothing but a gaping hole of dark to fill the void, and the words black out his overthrown mind, pulsing with an ache.

           We’re over,

     Before we even started.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

>>Part 9>>

In order for my fics to show up in tags, my taglists will be posted in reblogs from now on. Let me know if you want to be added or removed from either this series, or the permanent! :)

[hopeshoodie]

Rarepair Sunday- Hopeisol

I meant to post this yesterday but petered out towards the end (how on brand is that). But here’s a fluffy little fic about Hope and Marisol going on a double date with this week’s rairpair- Bobby and Noah.

Words: ~2500

Warnings: None, maybe slight angst and mention of doing the nasty but not at all descriptions of it 

When she walked into the kitchen, rummaging through her purse on the counter, Noah couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. He exhaled out his teeth, whistling slightly. Hope looked up, a cheeky grin spreading across her face as she stepped back, forgetting the quest to find her keys.

She gestured down at herself, posing with her hips and flipping newly installed box braids over her shoulder, “How do I look?”

“Stunning.” He said without thinking. And it was true. The closest he’d seen to her going this all out was at the villa prom, but even that was a shadow of the visage standing in front of him now. The new hair style that she’d spent the better part of the day in the salon getting struck a balance between startlingly different but radiant, her expertly applied makeup sharpened her jaw and eyes flawlessly, the rich jewel tones of her body con dress made her skin glow in the low light of the apartment. But more than the look, there was a lightness in her eyes and smile. The tension that normally stiffened her shoulders had vanished, and she appeared more relaxed than he’d ever seen her. 

She threw her head back with a laugh at his comment, “do you think so?”. She moved in between several poses, turning to fully show off the look and gracefully moving her arms. He couldn’t help but smile, watching her playfully lean and posture. Before he said anything else, her focus snapped to Noah, sprawled out on the couch. She walked over slowly, lips pursed in silent thought.

Hope hesitated before quietly, tentatively offering “And you look…”

Sensing her judgement he sat up, brushing the wrinkles of his dress pants away and straightening his tie. He offered her a beleaguered smile, “It’s not that bad, is it?”

“It’s fine, you look great.” She bent slightly and loosened the knot of her tie, pulling it into the proper shape then tightening it again. “I just… Do you own more than one suit?”

“What do you mean?! This is a new shirt, and tie! I picked it out specifically for this-”

“There’s no way that’s new.”

“It is!”

“If it’s new, then you have at least two of the exact same. Noah, how many navy button downs do you own?”

He blushed, looking down at himself. She offered him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before turning back to her purse. As she walked away, she quipped over her shoulder, “at least you’re not wearing a vest.”

“I look good in a vest!” He called back.

“Who looks good in a vest?” Marisol walked out of the bedroom, holding the keys that Hope was still rummaging around for. Hope spun around and her face lit up. 

“Noah, allegedly.”

Marisol smiled and pressed the keys into Hope’s palm, leaning in and kissing her cheek lightly. “Aw. Are you teasing him?” Then she raised her voice so Noah could hear without looking away from Hope, “I think you look nice in vests.”

Noah’s response was lost in the fumbling of their lips, fingers seeking each other out to interlace. When she pulled away, Hope murmured, “you look beautiful.” Marisol offered her a coquettish smile before releasing her hands, “I know.” Hope’s jaw dropped and she swatted at her girlfriend, “I know” she mimicked. 

“I do know! It took an hour and a half to look this good, babes,” Marisol retorted. 

“Speaking of which,” Hope turned back towards the living room, “have you heard anything from him?”

“Radio silence.” Noah called back. 

Marisol frowned, “I just checked the flight tracker, it said he’s still on time.”

“I knew I should’ve scheduled the reservation for later.”

Marisol slid a comforting hand around Hope’s waist, rubbing her skin gently with her thumb, “don’t go into damage control yet. We don’t know for sure either way.” Hope leaned into her hand, but didn’t say anything. After a bit, Marisol turned back to Noah, sensing she needed to take control.

“Well the plane’s still landing at 6:00, so we might as well assume everything’s fine. I’m sure you’ll get a text during the drive. Let’s just get going.”

Noah nodded silently, a look in his eyes that meant he wasn’t sharing his concerns. But he still stood up, grabbing his coat off the back of the sofa. Hope smiled tightly and grabbed her purse.

“We’re gonna have a great time. Come on.” Marisol kissed Hope lightly again, then walked over to Noah. She pulled at his tie, trying to get the knot to lay flatter than it was. Noah swallowed a laugh and glanced conspiratorially over at Hope, who rolled her eyes through a smile. 

The drive to the airport was quiet. Noah sat in the backseat, scrolling through his phone, and the ladies held hands up front as Hope drove. Periodically, Noah would share a news story or joke from his timeline, and they would all collectively chuckle at it. The silence that had previously been terse and anxious morphed into a comfortable, content silence. 

It took another 45 minutes for them to park, go through security, and find the right gate. Noah had gotten progressively quieter, lips turned slightly downwards as they waited outside of the gate. Hope gently held his forearm, “it’ll be fine, babes.”

Noah nodded, not speaking the fact that they were all acutely aware of. It’d been five months since they’d last seen each other, the longest stretch of time they’d gone since they started dating. While they both agreed long-distance would be doable while he looked for a new job, the separation was wearing on them. 

As the door opened and people started meandering through, the coil in Noah’s throat rose higher. Both Marisol and Hope gently patted and held him, sensing his anxiety. He almost brushed them off, feeling like a child, but instead he remained frozen in place, staring at the doorway.

Like it was nothing, suddenly he appeared. Frumpled shirt halfway unbuttoned, eschew, massive headphones perched around the back of his head, smile brighter than the pastel orange of his slacks. He immediately locked eyes on Noah and squeezed past the woman in front of him, running to them. Without thinking, Bobby launched himself at Noah, wrapping his arms around Noah’s neck and pulling his legs up around him as well. Noah lurched back but caught him intuitively, pulling him up into a long kiss. He had to let Bobby down earlier than he’d normally- the backpack strapped to the shorter man weighed nearly as much as Bobby did. 

 Bobby grinned up at him, “hey.” Noah couldn’t help himself from smiling, giddiness making his cheeks flush and eyes squint. “You were supposed to text me when you landed.”

Easing back onto his own feet, Bobby flushed, “yeah, sorry. They didn’t have ports- my phone’s completely dead.”

Noah nodded gently, “but you’re here.”

Marisol cleared her throat, and the couple glanced over at her. “Bobby, what are you wearing?”

“What do you mean, I’m-”

Hope’s face fell and Marisol cut in before she had a chance to react, “Hope made a reservation for dinner at 7. You were supposed to wear your suit on the plane… Is it in your backpack?” She disdainfully glanced at it, not relishing the wrinkles being crammed in a pack would cause.

Bobby’s face fell too, “Shit- I totally forgot-”

Hope started to match Marisol’s agitation, but instead of frustration, tears began welling in the back of her throat. “It has a dress code, Bobby-”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Noah tried to sooth them, “we’ll just swing back to your place. I have an extra shirt, and I’m sure Bobby has some more understated pants-” Bobby visible cringed, shooting a look at Noah. 

Marisol nodded, using Hope’s distress to launch from anger into problem solving mode. “If we leave now we’ll have time to run back, it’s fine. Let’s do that, come on.” She gently pulled Hope into moving. 

Bobby rested his head on Noah’s shoulder as they drove back, playing with his hands. They giggled between themselves, and Hope tried desperately to swallow her irritation and just be happy for them. It was good to see Bobby. 

Noah always seemed to be more comfortable around him too, chatting much more and openly laughing. That was the thing that convinced her Bobby and Noah were a good couple, or at least a better couple than she and Noah ever would be. When she was with Noah, he was just as sweet and considerate as ever, but it always felt like she had to guess what he wanted. Like there was some barrier, like he was speaking a language a little too fluently for her to understand. There was no need for it either, she tried desperately to communicate with him. At times, it’d felt like he willingly stonewalled her instead of just saying what he wanted, just to be difficult. Just to be frustrating. Therapy had made Hope realize that she’d done the same, in part, focusing on little conflicts instead of addressing her underlying insecurities about the relationship. 

But it still hurt some, to see how vibrant Noah became when Bobby whispered in his ear. Not that she wanted him still. But Hope had a hard time letting go, taking the L. Noah had been something she wanted so deeply, and couldn’t make work no matter how hard she tried. Maybe that was the problem, Noah’s love was a thing she wanted. With Marisol, it wasn’t like that. 

Hope didn’t want, didn’t demand, Marisol’s love more than she wanted the dumb memes sent to her phone sporadically throughout the day. Than she wanted the slow and soft mornings waking up to the smell of coffee and her tender hands. More than she wanted to wrap herself in Marisol’s affection and never let go. 

A relationship with Marisol was work, true, but it felt like Marisol wanted to work for it in a way Noah was never willing to. And that remained a slight bitterness in Hope’s friendship with Noah. No matter how much they’d put the show behind them, Hope couldn’t forget how in love she’d been with him. How angry she’d been. The show’s reruns made her cringe, but also caused a dull ache in her chest. Reconnecting with Marisol had dulled that ache to nearly nothing, but seeing Bobby and Noah carrying on as if Noah was never hers caused it to flare up again. 

Glancing at Marisol from the road dissolved that twinge of resentment into shame. Here she was, angry that her friend had found romance in the exact same way she had, when the love of her life was quietly humming along to the radio next to her. It’s not as if Noah realizing his crush on Bobby after the show was any more disloyal than her and Marisol’s friendship growing into more with time. As much as she tried to rationalize it away, there was still a hint of frustration. Marisol quelled it but sliding a hand into Hope’s lap and gently squeezing her thigh, but Hope had to force herself to stop glancing in the rearview mirror anyways. 

When they got to the apartment, Noah pulled Bobby into the guest bedroom to some side eye from Marisol. Hope sat tersely at the kitchen counter, and Marisol slid behind her, gently rubbing her shoulders.

“Don’t let it ruin your whole night babes, we’ll still make the reservation.”

Hope huffed, recognizing it was more than that but taking the out provided, “I spent so much time planning it all out. I made the reservation two months ago-”

Marisol kissed her shoulder, then her neck, whispering, “I know. We all appreciate how much time and effort you put into planning everything.” 

“I just want this to be a good weekend. They haven’t see each other in forever and-”

“And they’re already really happy with each other. You can’t make yourself responsible for their relationship success, darling.”

“I’m not-” she snapped, letting out a breath when Marisol raised an eyebrow condescendingly. Without conceding, Hope sighly loudly and nodded. 

The sat like that for awhile, Marisol gently running her nails across Hope’s back and Hope vacantly staring out the kitchen window. After a considerable bit, Marisol went to the bedroom door, intending to knock. She raced back with a smug grin, and blurted out in a hushed voice, “they’re shagging!”

“What?!”

“Absolutely. They are 100% going at it-”

“Are you kidding me.” Hope pushed up away from the table, spinning on her heels. Marisol caught her arm and pulled her back.

“Oh babe, come on. Don’t interrupt-”

“Our reservation started five minutes ago and you want me to-”

“They haven’t seen each other in awhile-”

“They literally just had to wait four more hours!”

“As if you haven’t been late to a meeting because we were getting a little indecent.”

“That’s not remotely the same thing,” Hope glowered at her girlfriend, and Marisol just laughed, pulling her into a tight hug and kissing her forehead. 

Hope huffed again, and stomped over to the living room, dropping into the loveseat. “Fine. I won’t interrupt. I won’t urge anyone to hurry or worry about a schedule or plan anything. We’ll see how much fun everyone has when everyone just says ‘it’ll work out’ and never puts in any effort to make it work out.”

Marisol watched her storm away, then waited until she was finished. Against her better judgement, she offered, “I said I appreciated your effort.” Which earned her a sour glare. She shrugged, then turned and disappeared into the main bedroom. Hope turned on the tv and attempted to care about the cooking competition that came on. After twenty more minutes, she called in and cancelled the reservation.

Nearly an hour later, the guest bedroom door pushed open. A flushed Noah stepped out, his clothes obviously straightened but the knot of his tie sloppily done again, followed by Bobby. Bobby had put on one of Noah’s shirt, apparent from the looseness and bunching of a shirt that was far too big for him and the signature navy pattern that only Noah and newly graduated business majors would pick out. The boys had so intelligently paired the shirt Bobby was currently swimming in with a pair of khakis. 

Hope turned, most of her irritation haven softened with some alone time. She barked a laugh, partially in genuine humor and partially in disbelief. “You’re going to wear that to a five star restaurant?”

Bobby blushed and Noah looked down at him. “I thought we managed to cobble a look together.”

“No tie?”

“I only brought one.” Noah raised a hand to start pulling his own off, before Hope shook her head, “It doesn’t matter. They only hold reservations for a half hour after they’re booked for.”

“I’m sorry, Hope-”

“As you should be.” Marisol walked out of the hall, she strode past Bobby and Noah, sparing a withering glance at Bobby and snorting her amusement. Without saying anything else, she opened the door and disappeared into the apartment hallway. Hope watched her go in confusion, then turned back to the boys.

“It’s fine.” Her voice softened. It was fine, really. At the end of the day, they were all together, and happy. That should be enough.

“It’s not my fault I’m so incredibly irresistible-” Bobby quipped, and Noah looked away while Hope grimaced, “gross.”

“Bobby, don’t-”

“No it’s not even true,” Hope cut in, grinning, “you look like a 9 year old trying on dad’s shirt for the first time, and you want to brag about being irresistible?” 

“I make it work, lass.” Bobby pulled the back of the shirt tight, trying to give himself an hourglass figure, and posed. Hope stuck her tongue out, and he winked in return. 

The door pushed open again and Marisol shoved her way through, arms full of plastic bags. Hope shook her head in confusion before rushing over to help carry things. 

“When did you-”

“I know Bobby doesn’t mind, but Noah do you like pho? It’s a trick question, I already ordered it. But still.”

Noah smiled, “yeah, I’ll eat some pho-”

“Fantastic, to the terrace!”

Hope trailed behind Marisol as she led through the open screen door onto their small patio. Setting the bag of takeout down on the coffee table, she couldn’t smother her excitement.

“Babes, when did you do all this?”

“Just now.”

Marisol had toted blankets and pillows from their bedroom out to the patio furniture, and carried their TV out as well. Four three wick candles were sat on the ground, waving in the breeze, and Marisol had strung multi colored christmas lights they had in storage along the railing.

“I didn’t hear you,” Hope said, eyes twinkling as Marisol leaned in and kissed her temple.

“Yeah, and it was a pain to try to carry that thing down the stairs and out the door silently. Thank god for your lack of awareness.”

“Sod off,” Hope whispered, wrapping her arms around Marisol’s neck and kissing her deeply. 

After the food was opened and everyone got settled, some movie was turned on. Hope couldn’t remember what they’d played for the life of her. But she did remember one specific moment. One warm, contented moment. Wrapped in Marisol’s arms, nestled into her side. Hope had glanced over at the boys, who’d pushed two patio chairs together and were spooning, Noah’s legs hanging off the chairs at the knee. The air rustled across her face and the sounds of the city far below harmonized with the movie audio. Hope could’ve gotten lost in Marisol’s breathing, in the comfort and safety of her arms. But she made a salient mental note not to lose that moment. 

[narcissasdaffodil]

This is for Day 11 of Femslash February. I’m going from 3 separate prompt lists, and choosing whether to do them pretty randomly.

Prompts: waiting and long distance

Alecto taps her foot as she waits at the gate for Marisol. Her plane was due 15 minutes ago, and she was excited to see her again. They had done long distance for 4 weeks as Marisol had to visit her grandparents and extended family in Madrid, and Alecto had done her yearly visit to her dad’s side of the family in Toronto. She usually spent the summer in Canada, it was strange to have spent only 2 weeks there this time. Due to her leaving two weeks before Marisol and returning just after her girlfriend had come back,they had been apart for four weeks, which was the longest time they had been separated since Love Island. This will definitely be a surprise. She has absolutely no idea you planned on doing this. Along with the little gifts you’ve brought back.

She notices a flurry of movement from the gate, and looks up. She scans the approaching crowds for Marisol’s head and stands up. She stretches up on her tip toes while cursing being so short. Being 5’0 regularly had downsides, especially the not being able to find people in crowds one. When she was dating Abby it wasn’t so much of an issue, as Abby was 5’10, and had a considerable chunk of height on her.

The crowd starts to get less congested, and through a gap, she can see Marisol’s long hair. She moves forward slightly, careful to not get lost in the crowd and runs over to Marisol. Without thinking, she wraps her in a tight hug and grins. She breathes in the fruity scent and closes her eyes. Just one

simple perfume can be missed, she was so relieved to be with Marisol again. She associates Marisol with the spiky fruit. She wants to hold on forever but lets go, unable to stop smiling.

Marisol watches her with wonder, the shock clear on her face.

“Surprise! I was always planning to meet you, can’t be apart for much longer after all. How was your flight?” Alecto feels slightly breathless from the running and her heart is beating fast in her chest. She’s aware her words rushed out in a sudden burst, but was unable to collect them together and express herself in a calm manner.

“It was definitely a surprise, that’s for sure. How did you work it out? It’s nice to see you though. With time zone gaps, I did miss you. I’ve definitely been struggling more sleep wise. I haven’t seen my siblings in ages either, being teased about having ‘heart eyes’ was hardly fun. You’ve turned me into a slight sap, but I’m fine with it, as it’s you. You’re really special, you know…” Marisol’s eyes turn slightly misty as she speaks, a soft smile grows on her face. She does appear far softer with you. It’s cool to have that much of an impact on someone.

“I pieced together your social media posts, you don’t really use it that often so it wasn’t that difficult to do. I’m pretty good at surprising people, anyway,” she finds it hard to stop grinning, a warm smile settles on her face. “I could definitely say the same for you. Part of my heart definitely belongs to you, and your eyes look like coming home. I’m usually rather patient, but waiting for you was difficult. Maybe you’re like a tree, as you’re turning slightly sappy!” Marisol pokes her in the shoulder playfully and links arms with her.

“That’s by far the worst joke you’ve ever done. I don’t think it actually had any joke to it, it was just weird word play. But I actually missed you, and even the puns! Which is one thing I didn’t think I would, but it’s weird what you miss.”

They started to walk together, arm in arm. Marisol only breaks free to retrieve her luggage and apart from that they stay close together.

“What about your ridiculous amounts of coffee, and alarms? One person shouldn’t need 7 alarms to wake up, even I only have one and snooze it twice. Which is more than enough.” Alecto teases Marisol, who’s eyes widen in protest. Before she can respond, Alecto keeps going.

“Anyway, I did miss that, it’s weird to have just myself in the flat. Sadie’s definitely been missing you, she’s got used to having two mums. It’s nice to be a cat parent with you. I told my dad to expect grand cats instead of grandchildren, which made him laugh. He’s definitely fine with that, it’s hardly a surprise.” She looks over to Marisol to see her wiping tears from her eyes.

“These are happy tears, don’t worry. You’re like a cat yourself, with all the purring in your sleep you do. You’ve definitely miaowed at me, once or twice, too. Which is cute. This relationship is so special and wonderful to me. I’ve never had anything quite like this before…” her voice is slightly wobbly and Alecto squeezes her hand tight. “I’m also a little tired, so will need a nap once we get back.”

“Of course, no problem. We’ve got all the time in the world to catch up. And you must be tired, you never nap.”

Alecto feels a warm feeling take her over. Just being there with the love of her life once again turns her to mush slightly. Her extended family had been asking about Marisol and she wants so desperately for them to meet but wants Marisol to be comfortable with it too.

“What’s on your mind? You’re looking deep in thought.” Marisol studies her carefully, tear tracks still present on her cheeks. Alecto reaches up and wipes Marisol’s eyes with her sleeve, being gentle as she does it.

“My family would love to meet you. I know you’ve met one of my siblings already, but I want you to eventually meet the rest of them. When you’re comfortable of course, I… I don’t want to force things...” she feels slightly nervous and trips over her words as she speaks. She looks down at her feet and the pavement they’re walking on. She had spent so much time looking at her feet rather than the world around her in the past and was worried she’d fall back into those habits yet again.

“Hey. That’s fine to have it be a future goal, and it means a lot that you’re going at my pace. People have been scared off by it before. I do want to, of course I do. With time, that is.” Marisol gently catches hold of her chin and looks into her eyes. Alecto tries to ground herself in Marisol’s dark brown eyes, and the unexpected seriousness on her face. Just the small act of touch sends herself into overdrive, and when Marisol lets go, Alecto pulls a chunk of long hair over her chin to feel the pins and needles coming from her chin. If this is what love is, then it should stay forever.

[thefakejeffreyazoff]

‘He’s our Satan’: Mega music manager Irving Azoff, still feared, still fighting

(x)PEBBLE BEACH, Calif. —  

This is not Irving Azoff’s house. Irving and his wife Shelli own houses all over, from Beverly Hills to Cabo San Lucas, but right now in the last week of October it’s too cold at the ranch in Idaho and too hot at the spread in La Quinta, so he’s renting this place — a modest midcentury six-bedroom that sold for $5 million back in 2016.

From the front door you can see all the way out, to where Arrowhead Point juts like the tail of a comma into the calm afternoon waters of Carmel Bay. More importantly, the house is literally across the street from the Pebble Beach Golf Links, where Azoff likes to play with his college buddy John Baruck, who started out in the music business around the same time Azoff did, in the late ’60s, and just retired after managing Journey through 20 years and two or three lead singers, depending how you count.

(Via LA Times) 

Azoff is 72, and this weekend he’ll be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame alongside Bruce Springsteen’s longtime manager Jon Landau. Beatles manager Brian Epstein and Rolling Stones manager Andrew Loog Oldham are already in, but Azoff and Landau are the first living managers thus honored. Azoff is not only alive — he’s still managing. As a partner in Full Stop Management — alongside Jeffrey Azoff, his oldest son and the third of his four children — he steers the careers of clients like the Eagles, Steely Dan, Bon Jovi and comedian Chelsea Handler, and consults when needed on the business of Harry Styles, Lizzo, John Mayer, Roddy Ricch, Anderson .Paak and Maroon 5. Azoff has Zoom calls at 7, 8 and 9 tomorrow morning, and only after that will he squeeze in a round.

The work never stops when you view the job the way Azoff does, as falling somewhere between consigliere and concierge. “My calls can be everything from ‘My knee buckled, I need a doctor’ to ‘My kid’s in jail,’” Azoff says. “I mean, you have no idea. The ‘My kid’s in jail’ one was a funny one, because the artist then said to me, ‘Y’know, I’ve thought about this. Maybe we should leave him there for a while.’”

Golf entered Azoff’s life the way a lot of things have — via the Eagles, whom Azoff has managed since the early ’70s. Specifically, Azoff took up golf in the company of the late Glenn Frey, the jockiest Eagle, the one the other Eagles used to call “Sportacus.” By the time the Eagles returned to the road in the ’90s they’d left their debauched ’70s lifestyles largely behind, but Azoff and Frey got hooked on the little white ball.

“Frey would insist on booking the tour around where he wanted to play golf,” Azoff says. “We made Henley crazy. Henley would call me in my room and he’d go, ‘Why the f— are we in a hotel in Hilton Head North Carolina and starting a tour in Charlotte? Is this a f— golf tour?’”

Trailed by Larry Solters, the Eagles’ preternaturally dour minister of information, Azoff makes his way down the hill from the house for dinner at the golf club’s restaurant. He’s only 5 feet, 3 inches, a diminutive Sydney Pollack in jeans and a zip-up sweater. In photos from the ’70s — when he was considerably less professorial in comportment, a hipster exec with a spring-loaded middle finger — he sports a beard and a helmet of curly hair and mischievous eyes behind his shades, and looks a little like a Muppet who might scream at Kermit over Dr. Teeth’s appearance fee.

His father was a pharmacist and his mother was a bookkeeper. He grew up in Danville, Ill., booked his first shows in high school to pay for college, dropped out of college to run a small Midwestern concert-booking empire and manage local acts such as folk singer Dan Fogelberg and heartland rock band REO Speedwagon. Los Angeles soon beckoned. He met the Eagles while working for David Geffen and Elliot Roberts’ management company and followed the band out the door when they left the Geffen fold; they became the cornerstone of his empire. “I got my swagger from Glenn Frey and Don Henley,” he says. “No doubt about it.”

Azoff never took to pot or coke. The Eagles lived life in the fast lane; he was the designated driver. “Artists,” he once observed, “like knowing the guy flying the plane is sober.” This didn’t stop him from trashing his share of hotel rooms, frequently with guitarist Joe Walsh — whose solo career Azoff shepherded before Walsh joined the Eagles, and who was very much not sober at this time — as an accomplice.

“This was a different age,” Walsh says of his time as the band’s premier lodging-deconstructionist. “We could do anything we wanted, so we did. And Irving’s role was to keep us out of prison, basically.” He recalls a pleasant evening in Chicago in the company of John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd, which culminated in Walsh laying waste to a suite at the Astor Towers hotel that turned out to be the owner’s private apartment. “We had to check out with a lawyer and a construction foreman,” Walsh remembers. “But Irving took care of it. Without Irving, I’d still be in Chicago.”

Azoff became even more infamous for the pit bull brio he brought to business negotiations on behalf of the Eagles and others, including Stevie Nicks and Boz Scaggs. He didn’t seem to care if people liked him, and his artists loved him for that. Steely Dan co-founder Walter Becker said they’d hired Azoff because he “impressed us with his taste for the jugular … and his bizarre spirit.” Jimmy Buffett’s wife grabbed him outside a show at Madison Square Garden, pushed him into the back of a limo and said, You have to manage Jimmy, although Buffett already had a manager at the time.

His outsized reputation as an advocate not just willing but eager to scorch earth on behalf of his clients became an advertisement for his services, a phenomenon that continues to this day. In August 2018, Azoff’s then-client Travis Scott released “Astroworld,” which debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 chart, and occupied that slot again the following week, causing Nicki Minaj’s album “Queen” to debut at No. 2. On her Beats One show “Queen Radio,” Minaj accused Scott of gaming Billboard’s chart methodology to keep her out of the top slot and singled his manager out by name: “C—sucker of the Day award,” she said, “goes to Irving Azoff.” Azoff says he reacted as only Azoff would: “I said, ‘I’m really unhappy about that. I want to be c—sucker of the year.’” In 2019, Minaj hired Azoff as her new manager.

Most of the best things anyone’s ever said about Azoff are statements a man of less-bizarre spirit would take as an insult. When the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inducted the Eagles in 1998, Don Henley stood onstage and said of Azoff, “He may be Satan, but he’s our Satan.”

An N95-masked Azoff takes a seat on a patio with a view of hallowed ground — the first hole of the Pebble Beach course, a dogleg-right par 4 with a priceless view of the bay. He cheerfully admits that he and his partners at Full Stop are “obviously, as a management business, kind of losing our ass” this year due to COVID-19. In another reality, the Eagles would have played Wembley Stadium in August before heading off to Australia or the Far East. Styles would have just finished 34 dates in the U.S., Canada and Mexico. As it stands Azoff is hearing encouraging things about treatments and vaccines and new testing machines, and is reasonably confident that technology will soon make it possible for certified-COVID-free fans to again enjoy carefree evenings of live music together; he doesn’t expect much to happen in the meantime.

“What are you gonna do,” Azoff says, “take an act that used to sell 15,000 seats and tell them to play to 4,000 in the [same] arena? The vibe would be horrible, and production costs will stay the same.”

He knows of at least six companies trying to monetize new concert-esque experiences — pay-per-view shows from houses and soundstages, drive-in events and so on. But he’s not convinced anybody wants to sit in their parked car to watch a band play. More to the point, he’s not convinced it’s rock ’n’ roll.

“Fallon and Kimmel, all these virtual performances — people are sick of that,” he says. “Your production values from home aren’t that good. And they’re destroying the mystique. I mean, Justin Bieber jumping around on ‘Saturday Night Live’ the other night without a band, and then he had Chance the Rapper come out? It made him look to me, mortal. I didn’t feel any magic. So we’ve kinda been turning that stuff down to just wait it out.”

In the meantime, he says, Full Stop is picking up new clients during the pandemic. Artists with time on their hands, he believes, “have taken a hard look at their careers— so we’ve grown. No revenues,” he adds with a chuckle, “but people are saying, ‘We need you, we need to plan our lives.’”

“IN HIGH SCHOOL,” Jeffrey Azoff says, “I wanted to be a professional golfer, which has obviously eluded me.” He never expected to take up his father’s profession. “But my dad has always loved his job so much. There’s no way that doesn’t rub off on you.”

The younger Azoff got his first industry job at 21, as a “glorified intern” working for Maroon 5’s then-manager Jordan Feldstein. After a week of filing and fetching coffee, he called his father and complained that he was bored. According to Jeffrey, Irving responded, “Listen carefully, because I’m going to say this one time. You have a phone and you have my last name. If you can’t figure it out, you’re not my son.”

“Direct quote,” Jeffrey says. “It’s one of my favorite things he’s ever said to me. And it’s the spirit of the music business, by the way. There are no rules to this. Just figure it out.”

Over dinner I keep asking Irving how he got the temerity, as a kid barely out of college, to plunge into the shark-infested waters of the ‘70s record industry in Los Angeles. He just shrugs.

“I never felt the music business was that competitive,” he says. “It’s just not that f—ing hard. I don’t think there’s that many smart people in our business.”

It’s been written, I say, that once you landed in California and sized up the competition, you called John Baruck back in Illinois and said —

“We can take this town,” Azoff says, finishing the sentence. “Where’d you get that? John told that story to [Apple senior vice president] Eddy Cue on the golf course three days ago. It’s true. I called John up and said, ‘OK, get your ass out here. We can take this town.’”

In the ensuing years, Azoff has occupied nearly every high-level position the music industry has to offer, surfing waves of industry consolidation. He’s been the president of a major label, MCA; the CEO of Ticketmaster; and executive chairman of Live Nation Entertainment, the behemoth formed from Ticketmaster’s merger with Live Nation. In 2013 he and Cablevision Systems Corp. CEO and New York Knicks owner James Dolan formed a partnership, Azoff MSG Entertainment; Azoff ran the Forum in Inglewood for Dolan after MSG purchased it in 2012.

Earlier this year Dolan sold the Forum for $400 million to former Microsoft CEO and Clippers owner Steve Ballmer, who’s since announced plans to build a new stadium on a site just one mile away. Despite the apocalyptic parking scenario that looms for the area — two stadiums and a concert arena on a one-mile stretch of South Prairie Boulevard — Azoff is confident that the Forum will live on as a live-music venue. “People are going, ‘They’re going to tear it down’ — they’re not going to tear it down,” Azoff says. “It’s going to be in great hands. I have many of the artists we represent booked in the Forum, waiting for the restart based on COVID.”

The holdings of the Azoff Co. — formed when Dolan sold his interest in Azoff MSG back to Azoff two years ago — include Full Stop, the performance-rights organization Global Music Rights and the Oak View Group, which is developing arenas in Seattle and Belmont, N.Y., and a 15,000-seat venue on the University of Texas campus in Austin. Azoff describes himself as increasingly focused on “diversification, and building assets for the family that aren’t just dependent on commissions, shall we say.”

But as both a manager and a co-founder of a lobbying group, the Music Artists Coalition, he’s also devoting more time and energy to a broad range of artists’-rights issues, from health insurance to royalty rates to copyright reversion to this year’s Assembly Bill 5, which threatened musicians’ independent-contractor status until it was amended in September. (“That was us,” Azoff says, somewhat grandly. “I got to the governor, the governor signed it — Newsom was great on it.”) He describes his advocacy for artists — even those he doesn’t manage — as a “war on all fronts,” and estimates there are 21 major issues on which “we’ve sort of appointed ourselves as guardians.”

He does not continue to manage artists because he needs the money, he says. (As the singer-songwriter and Azoff client J.D. Souther famously put it, “Irving’s 15% of everybody turned out to be more than everyone’s 85% of themselves.”) Everything he’s doing now — building clout through the Azoff Co., even accepting the Hall of Fame honor — is ultimately about positioning himself to better fight these fights. “I’d rather work on [these things] than anything else,” he says. “But if I didn’t have the power base in the management business, I couldn’t be effective.”

The recorded music industry, having fully transitioned to a digital-first business, is once again making money hand over fist, he points out, but even less of that money is trickling down to artists. That imbalance long predates Big Tech’s involvement in the field, but the failure of music-driven tech companies to properly compensate musicians is clearly the largest burr under Azoff’s saddle.

“These people, when they start out — whether it’s Facebook, Snapchat, TikTok, whatever — they resist paying for music until you go beat the f— out of them. And then of course, none of them pay fair market value and they get away with it. Your company’s worth $30 billion and you can’t spend 20 grand for a song that becomes a phenomenon on your channel? Even when they pay, artists don’t get enough. Writers don’t get enough. Music, as a commodity, is more important than it’s ever been, and more unfairly monetized for the creators. And that’s what creates an opportunity for people like me.”

AZOFF’S FIRM NO longer handles Travis Scott, by the way. “Travis is unmanageable,” Azoff says, nonchalantly and without rancor. “We’re involved in his touring as an advisor to Live Nation, but he’s calling his own shots these days.”

I ask if, in the age of the viral hit and the bedroom producer, he finds himself running into more artists who assume they don’t need a manager. Ehh, Azoff says, like it’s always been that way. “There’s a lot of headstrong artists,” he says. “I haven’t seen one that’s better off without a manager than with,” he says, and laughs a little Dennis the Menace laugh.

We’re back at the house. Azoff takes a seat on the living-room couch; Larry Solters sits across from him, his back to the sea. Azoff recalls another big client. Declines to name him. Says he was never happy, even after Azoff and his people got him everything on his wish list. “He hit me with a couple bad emails. Just really disrespectful s—. I sent him an email back that said, ‘Lucky for me, you need me more than I need you. Goodbye.’”

He will confirm having resigned the accounts of noted divas Mariah Carey and Axl Rose. Reports that he once attempted to manage Kanye West have been greatly exaggerated, he says, although they’ve spoken about business. “Robert [Kardashian] was a good friend of mine. The kids all went to school together,” Azoff says. “What I always said to Kanye was, you’re unmanageable, but we can give you advice.

“A lot of people could have made a dynasty on the people we used to manage,” Azoff says, “let alone the ones we kept.”

But he still works with many artists who joined him in the ’70s — with Henley, with Steely Dan’s Donald Fagen and with Joe Walsh. Walsh has been sober for more than 25 years; it was Azoff, along with Henley and Frey, who talked him into rehab before the Eagles’ 1994 reunion tour. “Irving never passed judgment on me,” Walsh says. “And from that meeting on, he made sure I had what I needed to stay sober.” If he hadn’t, Walsh says, there’s no chance we’d be having this conversation. “All the guys I ran with are dead. Keith Moon’s dead. John Entwistle’s dead. Everybody’s dead, and I’m here. That’s profound to me.”

The first client Azoff lost was Minnie Riperton — in 1979, to breast cancer when she was only 31. Then Warren Zevon, to cancer, in 2003. Fogelberg, to cancer, four years later.

“And then Glenn,” says Azoff, referring to the Eagles co-founder who died in 2016. “I miss Glenn a lot. And now Eddie.”

Van Halen, that is. I ask Azoff if he can tell me a story that sums up what kind of guy Eddie Van Halen was; he tells me a beautiful one, then says he’d prefer not to see it in print. It makes perfect Azoffian sense — profane trash talk on the record, tenderness on background.

I ask if he’s been moved to contemplate his own mortality, as his boomer-aged clients approach an actuarial event horizon. Of course the answer turns out to involve keeping pace with an Eagle.

“Henley and I are having a race,” he says. “Neither one of us has given in. Neither one of us is going to retire.”

Henley was born in July 1947; Azoff came along that December. Does Don plan to keep going, I ask, until the wheels fall off?

“I don’t know,” Azoff says.

Do you ever talk about it?

“Yeah! He’ll call me up and he’ll go, ‘I really feel s— today.’ And I say, ‘Well, you should, Grandpa. You’re an old man. You ready to throw in the towel? Nope? OK.’”

Azoff says, “I contend that what keeps us all young is staying in the business. I’ve had more people tell me, ‘My father, he quit working, and then his health started failing,’ and all that. Every single — I mean, every single rock star I know is basically doing it to try and stay young. And I think it works. I really think it works.

“I have this friend,” Azoff says. “Calls me once a week, he’s sending me tapes, it’s his next big record. Paul Anka! He’s 80 years old. OK? And my other friend, Frankie Valli …”

“Do you know how old Frankie Valli is?” Solters says. “Eighty-six. And he still performs.”

“Not during COVID,” Azoff says. “I told the motherf—, ‘You’re not going out.’”

[videomessiah]

Top 5 holiday movies for the viewers at home?

After much consideration, I've decided that 5 isn't enough. It must be 10. Sorry in advance to the other couple dozen movies that could have been on here. And so, in no particular order:

1: Die Hard (1988) Everybody's got to mention Die Hard, right? A group of handsome male models robbing Nakatomi Plaza during Christmas and looking gorgeous while they do it. And I guess Bruce Willis and the dad from Family Matters are there somewhere, I don't know.

2: Lethal Weapon (1987) Alright, but seriously, while the world is busy "ironically" putting Die Hard on their Christmas movie lists, they often forget about this holiday classic. Not only is it a great background setting, but I consider the Christmas spirit to be integral to both Riggs' and Murtaugh's story arcs. Die Hard and Lethal Weapon will always be double-billed here.

3: Home Alone (1990) Honestly, I wanted to put Planes, Trains & Automobiles on the list, but Thanksgiving comes before Halloween in Canada, so I have even less of an excuse to relate it to "the holidays" than Americans do. Nonetheless, a John Hughes-penned film has its place on my holiday mantel. The kids love it, the adults love it, John Candy's there. What more could you want?

4: Scrooged (1988) Sometimes lambasted as either too cynical or too sentimental, I myself believe that Scrooged gets the balance pretty near perfect. Bill Murray is at his best as the seemingly irredeemable asshole modern Scrooge named Frank Cross, and the supporting cast is fantastic. The television-faced Ghost of Christmas Future is just so damn creepy and cool in this, too.

5: Jingle All the Way (1996) Sometimes lambasted as either too cynical or too... shit, hang on. While a fantastic satire of Christmas consumerism, this movie is indeed very goofy. You're telling me that stupid kid didn't recognize his gigantic Austrian father just because he had a visor and a voice modulator? Ridiculous! Aside from that, I love Jingle All the Way with my entire heart. Have you ever noticed how many jokes there are in reviews about Arnold Schwarzenegger playing an American with an American family in this and other films? Like, do they think immigrants just hang out in their scary segregated bars all day and only marry other immigrants and pop out kids who somehow also have foreign accents? But I digress.

6: Black Christmas (1974) There's only room for one Bob Clark-helmed Christmas movie on this list, and it doesn't involve BB guns. The classic that starts all of the "can a non-Italian movie be a giallo?" and "what's the difference between a slasher and a giallo?" arguments with your friends (maybe just my friends?), it cemented the importance of Canadian productions in both the horror and holiday genres.

7: The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992) Scrooge again! But this time it's got the Muppets and Michael Caine and that old-timey setting that you would be missing if you only watched something like Scrooged. And it's a musical, you have to have a musical somewhere on a Christmas movie list.

8: The Hebrew Hammer (2003) You said "holiday", not "Christmas". 'Tis the season, goyim! It's pretty fucking sad that this almost 20-year-old comedy about a Jewish private eye having to defeat the evil son of Santa Claus is one of the only Hanukkah movies around outside of Hallmark and Adam Sandler. But if this is all you're going to get, it's pretty damn great.

9: Eastern Promises (2007) It takes place during Christmas. It's a Christmas movie. Fuck you. It's a Very Cronenberg Christmas. I won't hear otherwise.

10: Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984) / Christmas Evil (1980) Breaking my own "list of 10" rule by sticking these together. There was so much controversy about a horror film having a killer Santa when Silent Night, Deadly Night was released. If anyone had ever actually seen Christmas Evil when it came out, I'm sure it would have gotten the same treatment. Both are about a traumatized man dressing up as Santa Claus and murdering people. There are plenty of differences between the two movies, of course, but I like to consider them siblings.

[flipsideds]

it’s all run amuck.

a server’s dropped two trays of fresh-baked scones, and the confections litter the floor like fallen leaves, purple-pink icing making the banquet hall look less like the site of a charity benefit and more like the streets of chilham mid-fall. it lights nostalgia beneath his ribs, and flip finds his lips tugging into a wistful smile.

but then a penguin-prettied guest clears his throat and arches a bristly brow.

“ right then, ” flip says with a curt nod. he clasps his hands, gaze sweeping one final dance across the sugar speckled floor. “ i’ll see to some replacements for you. ”  he forces a gentle smile –– the chasm between the man’s brows only deepens.

amuck indeed.

flip glides toward the kitchen. he’s a smooth-sailing afternoon cloud; light. airy. bloody nervous.

oh, dear.

flip allan bell has a case of the collywobbles, theodore, his old assistant would tease whenever he’d drop a bowl, tray, or spoon. the best baker’s hand he’d been, that one. it’s a shame he ––

flip blinks. thinks of flames, of ink black smoke. then tries not to think about anything at all.

quick fingers collect ingredients, combine. get to kneading. in here, there’s no clammer. no crowd. just sugar, butter, flour. a baffled baker’s best friend. he’ll forget the chaos, for a little while. he’ll close his eyes as he brings cherry compote to a simmer, and think of home.

or, alternatively :  greetings loved ones!! my name is linc ( 21 / est / she/her ) and here is the ever so lovely, ever so flighty phillip allan bell !

below the cut you’ll find a messy run-down of who he is, where he’s come from, and where he’s headed. i am so excited to write with all of you !!  he’s fresh out of the oven ( just ask nika ) so i am head over heels for watching him grow in the windy city !

toss on some nat king cole, julie london, billie holiday, chet baker & let’s get cookin’.

— && guests may mistake me as david corenswet, but really i am phillip "flip" allan bell + cis male + he/him/his  and my DOB is 02/29/1992. i am applying for the banquet manager position as part of the EHP and would like to live in suite 201. i should be hired because i am + breezy, expressive, peaceable, but i can also be flighty, perplexed, vacillant at times. personally, i like to bake sweets, not hum along to nat king cole while dancing around my flat alone, and most certainly never wear trousers that are just a bit too short to show off my eccentric sock collection when off the clock, but that won’t interfere with work. thank you for your consideration! 

h i s t o r y .

born in the small english village of chilham, phillip allan bell never knew his parents––but they took great care in stapling a note with his name, birthday, and favorite color to the blanket he was found swaddled in on the steps of the local market. ( phillip allan. 29 february. needs green. ) or, at least, that’s how flip tells the story. it’s unclear whether or not his parents’ chicken scratch called for green the color, or green the currency.

when phillip started speaking, he couldn’t properly say his own name. hence the nickname flip was born. the other children in the group home took to it easily, so the single-syllable stuck.

he spent the majority of his childhood in and out of foster homes throughout kent, always returning to the same group home after intervals of six months to a year. he began helping in the kitchen early on, so he became known as flip baker –– whether in foster care or the care of group home supervisors, flip always came to dinner with a new sweet treat for the others to try. people wouldn’t want to end their time fostering him because they loved the food. but in the end, the poor boy wouldn’t be adopted. reasons tended to ring much the same, “ oh, he’s lovely, really. what a sweetheart. just a bit too nervous for us, we’re afraid. ”

in fact, nervousness colored most of flip’s young life. from loud noises to spiders to fitting in, his mind always spun about endless possibilities –– quite rarely the good ones. the kitchen was the only place he truly quieted this tendency. he baked and cooked with steady hand, when he was alone. other folks in the kitchen with him would disrupt that cadence, but flip was never one to complain. he’d just fumble a bit, laugh nervously, and move along. he’s a remarkable chef –– and the kitchen always has ample marks to prove it.

shortly after turning 16, flip relocated to london. an older couple agreed to foster and adopt him as their own, but that stability was short-lived. they perished in an apartment fire just two months later. their youngest son, theodore, agreed to take him under his wing. at only 18, the two boys became fast friends. when flip decided to open his own bakery, theodore offered to be his assistant. from then on, the sweet by & by was born.

the bakery quickly rose to fame in the london area. people traveled from far and wide to try the legendary fruit scones, fresh cakes, and scrumptious sourdough. the bbc did a feature on the bakery for one of their london food series, and the sweet by & by began attracting tourists for something more than its treats :  its adorably frenetic baker. the kitchen was always spotted, his cheeks always dotted with icing or sugar. but he’d always greet customers with a molten-honey smile. tender green eyes. for years, the bakery prospered. flip prospered. he rose early to bake. he and theodore experimented with new recipes, danced around the kitchen to billie holiday, nat king cole... things were brilliant. radiant. whole. and then came the fire.

( tw: fire, death ) it happened while on a morning that was... well. most unusual. typically, flip and theodore would open the bakery together––3am sharp. they’d start preparing the day’s fresh goods, oldies playing softly on the stereo around them. but this september day in particular started off like no other: with theodore opening. alone. flip had stayed the night at one of his friends’ flats, unplanned. they’d hosted a housewarming party, and broken out his kryptonite: good bourbon. he’d drank more than his fill, and shot a text to theodore asking if it’d be alright if he started out the next day on his own. theodore agreed with a cheeky reply, getting some, are you, flip? right! as if. both men thought nothing of it. the opening, the slight shift in daily pattern. flip would be in by noon and business would carry on as usual. except flip always handled the faulty oven. on this particular morning, the device’s... quirks... slipped theodore’s mind. it took twenty minutes for the wires to start smoking. thirty minutes before theodore, swirling about the countertops with earbuds in, realized something was burning. on september 30, 2020 the sweet by & by burnt to the ground. and three days later, by smoke inhalation, it took flip’s dearest friend with it.

and that’s how it goes, innit? the story? the heartache? standing on the corner of upland and darrell road dressed in his funeral tie, squinting through scorched brick and metal like maybe, maybe if he stared hard enough, theodore, alive and well, might rise from the ashes. he didn’t. he didn’t, and flip visited the property each day for a week until he realized... he never would. he sorted through theodore’s personal affects. finally started his adopted surname, bell, as his own. he appeased reporters, for a little while. told the story, expressed how much he’d miss his best friend. his brother. but what about the bakery?, they’d ask. what about the sweet by & by? in the last interview flip ever did for the local stations, he reckoned perhaps that chapter, however sweet, was now meant to close. somewhere, online, there’s footage of him blinking through tears. twisting theo’s favorite ring around his own middle finger. green –– tsavorite. it means compassion, theodore had explained one night, after closing up. after they’d snatched a pint at the local pub and meandered on home. benevolence. beauty. somewhere, online, a reporter asks flip about that very stone. somewhere, online, flip pretends he didn’t hear it.

then came the bubble wrapping. the cardboard, packing tape. fingers rubbed raw from crinkling tape around itself, tearing it off, starting again. after theodore’s services, after relinquishing the bakery property to dulwich, flip packs his bags. he buys himself a nap, a pack of werther’s originals, and flees across the sea.

to chicago. the windy city. it’s always been circled on theodore’s map of america. that’s one i’d like to see someday, he’d say over a glass of bourbon. reckon they’re as tough as they seem? flip would always shrug, take a sip of his own drink. he didn’t know. but now? now, he would. on the plane, he spins theodore’s ring around his middle finger. even when he falls asleep, his forefinger and thumb stay there, shielding.

his initial thought is... perhaps he’ll open a bakery. but with the financial losses from the blaze, flip knows better than to embark on such an undertaking. so he does the responsible thing –– he finds a respectable job, at a respectable inn. the american experience, he hears theodore croon in the back of his mind, as he fills out his application. he’s jet lagged, distracted –– he doesn’t realize he’s checked the wrong box until the material’s been sent. and then he gets it. a banquet manager. oh, dear –– he hasn’t the faintest idea where to begin.

d i s p o s i t i o n .

born on a leap year. meaning he’s 28. but also 7.

for real footage of how flip handles himself in the kitchen, or just in general, check out this video. do i watch it daily? yes. did it inspire the general framework for flip’s frenetic kitchen tendencies? ...maybe. the chief difference lies in the result. things may crash and burn. it might look like it’s about to fall apart. but he always, always pulls it into a beautiful success.

he’s got a very deep-seated fear of fire. he’ll light candles in his flat only to flinch and snuff them out. if someone in the kitchen cooks with wine or vinegar and the skillet bursts into flame, he’ll look as though he’s seen a ghost. and he believes he’s subtle about it; oh, he truly does. but anyone with two eyes and a brain can piece together this man is very uneasy around flames.

he’s moved here with truly no plan, beyond experiencing chicago in all its glory, to make good on theodore’s dream. but as glorious and exciting as that is, he’s petrified. please help him.

there’s... a lot of unresolved traumas and sadness regarding his childhood. the bell family was the first to truly see him and give him, in all his anxious entirety, a chance. losing his last link to them has been... difficult, to say the least.

he’s a sucker for oldie music. god. it transports him. you can frequently find him in the malnati kitchens after hours whipping up something beautiful to a background of billie holiday or french classics. humming along, eyes closed, swaying... he’s graceful, truly –– when he’s not thinking about anything.

very terrible about crushes. very terrible about crushes on him. flirting sends his brain into overdrive and... often, he short-circuits. ask him a question about himself he isn’t expecting and he’ll handle it kindly, but will look like a deer in headlights.

amendment: more often than not looks like a deer in headlights.

peaceful at his core. but with the ruckus and the world raging around him, there’s always something more to worry about. if he gives you winnie the pooh vibes, it typically means he’s spinning.

he has a very delightful way of managing, mostly because he’s scared shitless of people being mean. he handles every blip and bump with ease. but inside? he’s fretting.

amendment: most often, he’s fretting. very little quiets his mind. baking, maybe. you can tell he’s having a shit time if he shows up unannounced with endless supplies of new recipes.

adores poetry. he likes reading in public spaces, people watching. he’ll often mouth the words to himself, brow furrowed, eyes lighting like he’s seeing suns rise and fall for the first time.

he’s been in love once in his life. her name was georgie. she was the epitome of breathlessness, milky sunlight, espresso brewed on a crisp morning. she was... not who he thought she was. ( she cheated, after two years of time spent together. he found them out, on a date, on an impromptu trip to brixton market for fresh supplies. )

pansexual and very aware of it. he’s in denial about people fancying him. but he very frequently develops small admirations for people, from afar.

6′4, very tall. his pants are always a slight bit too short. if you tell him, he’ll act surprised, the beautifully eccentric socks peeking out from underneath will suggest otherwise.

he’s never had a s’more. he can’t tell if he’s more intrigued or scared by the thought of them.

doesn’t like birds, particularly ones that swoop low. ( there’ve been incidents. ) he also doesn’t take a great liking to men in tall hats. ( another incident. )

make fun of his accent please i beg you. he does not know how to handle it. he’ll stammer and chuckle and it’ll be bloody amazing, i promise you.

c o n n e c t i o n s .

MAGNOLIA BARNES –– friend. they met during her time in london. neither of them are aware they’re in the same city now, let alone the same hotel. i imagine flip hasn’t told her about the bakery yet. it hasn’t really made news outside of england, so that will certainly be... a story to tell.

FLIRTATIONSHIP / SOMETHING MORE –– just imagine this nervous little bean navigating a new love connection... please... he’ll be a mess.

TOUR GUIDES –– ever wanted to show someone your version of chicago? now’s your chance! flip is so bloody new to this place. he gets lost almost always.

CONFIDANT –– they talk about anything and everything. perhaps not all of it. but there’s an unspoken trust between them. they likely met in the most unlikely of ways, and here we are now.

literally anything under the sun? oh my WORD it has been an epoch since i’ve rped and i’m just. here for any of it. all of it. cute neighbor shit. mailroom mishaps. friends. enemies. someone who keeps sneaking the last of the lobby mints. i want anything you want to throw at me!!

[darkestwolfx]

Up from the Depths P.1 - Re-Review #32

Now, just to stick my personal opinion in here... we’re about to get to two of my all time favourite episodes. The amount of references to Jeff, and the purpose for IR - there’s just golden moments everywhere you look. So let’s have a look at some of them.

“What is it, John?”

“You’re gonna’ want to see this.”

“The TV-21! No, it can’t be...”

Well, it is (or we wouldn’t have an episode)!

“Is that what I think it is?”

“It’s the TV-21!”

“Is anyone gonna’ clue me in here?”

“It’s the TV-21!”

“That is not helping!”

Don’t worry, Alan, I’ll try and catch you up. But that just serves as another well-placed reminder of all the things Alan (and Kayo) is too young to remember about IR.

The fact Jeff etched his name onto the ship does not surprise me. It goes towards showing how proud he was of it, and completely fits in with everything we are told about him by Grandma (once again, wonderfully well placed comments).

Now, the TV-21, is given to us as “the first Thunderbird”, the fastest ship (at the moment), and Jeff’s pride and joy. There’s a nice little reference to Jeff’s previous careers as well, with the fact they’ve added the ‘Colonel’. Nice touch.

But of course, of all the places to crash land, it had to be in the Mariana’s Trench. I mean, there is a reason why it’s “the world’s last unmapped ocean”, according to the crew. It’s a pretty dangerous place. If you want to read about it, feel free, National Geographic have some incredibly interesting articles on what they theorise could be down there based on their limited exploration. But what we do know, is that it’s actually a very hostile seascape, and that the marine life which inhabits it seems to have evolved drastically to cope. I think that if we are ever able to understand it, we will know a lot more towards global warming and the mutations of animals. But I hate swimming. Water’s not my area. I prefer to research land mammals and leave my colleagues with the wet-weather adventures.

Anyhow, I think it’s totally awesome that Virgil was playing the piano and that Scott was sat at Jeff’s desk in the opening for this episode too. It’s always nice to see little throwbacks to this very human family.

So let’s discuss the origins of TV-21 for a moment. Before it was a Thunderbird, it was a comic series! And it’s original name was ‘TV Century 21′ which was eventually shortened to TV21. It had various mergers, which featured additions to the name, but TV21 stuck for the majority of issues. It was a weekly comic published by City Magazines, beginning around 1965. It’s content was... drum roll... the sci-fi TV series created by Gerry and Sylvia Anderson’s company: Century 21 Productions - thus where the comics name originated from, the TV being added to clarify where the material was coming from and hopefully encourage people to watch and read both in tandem.

The comic often had newspaper front pages, dedicated to the fictional news stories of the multiple Anderson worlds, e.g. Thunderbirds, Captain Scarlet, Stingray.

Some really well known artists of the time worked on the comics, which only serves to increase their value. In our current day, the original ‘TV Century 21′ editions (Issues 1 - 154) are really hard to find, and so they sell/auction for incredibly high prices when one can be found - like much of the Anderson’s work which made it’s way into print. It does also mean that the first half of this great comic series is practically lost to the world.

Which is a big shame, because it was in many of these first issues (with their print time colliding with the original air slot of ‘Thunderbirds’) featured many episode-story related additions. For instance;

The supposed capture of ‘The Hood’ - which might have gone someway to explaining his disappearance during Series 2 of the show.

An addition to the US Army’s story line from ‘Pit of Peril’.

An addition to the events of ‘Sun Probe’, as well as an in-depth story on Thunderbird Three investigating the connection between the sun and natural disasters (better known now as global warming). My dad still has his copy of this edition, and I have no plans on selling it. It’s ironic that it features the only story line relevant to my current career. Hey, maybe there is such a thing as fate over coincidence (as ‘Doctor Who’ does suggest).

A special story for Thunderbirds Two and Four, upon which it is rumoured that the opening rescue of the ‘Thunderbirds’ (2004 film) was based upon. I personally think this was one of the best stories for the pair, and I’m disappointed it never appeared in an episode (as such). There were also rumours that this story was an expansion of the TOS episode ‘Atlantic Inferno’, but those were never confirmed and all suggestions ever made pointed towards it being a completely separate idea. There are interesting similarities in places though, so it’s worth consideration.

An expansion to Thunderbird Two’s ‘disappearance’, after the events of ‘Terror in New York City’, which covered the rumours spiraling during the time Thunderbird Two was out of operation, and some of the missions which were undertaken during said time.

And one of the few Fireflash related stories to feature outside of the TOS TV episodes. It was also one of the comic editions which fans come to know as ‘Thunderbirds meets Doctor Who’. At the time, both shows were scoring some of the highest viewings, and so I suppose these crossover editions only made sense. Many of the early editions featured such crossovers, including 2 other issues which I’ve posted above.

When we actually get to 2065, there’s going to be a bit of confusion over dates - the comics (set still in the futurist time - ever encroaching for us) were released on the corresponding dates, but with the year still set a hundred forward, e.g. 1965 was 2065, but the 13th March was the 13th March.

Right, enough of my geek-worthy knowledge on comics, and back to the episode. I mean, look at Scott’s face. He’s definitely had enough of my comic-based ramblings.

“Begging your forgiveness, Your Mongrel-ship.” 

I think the fact that Parker serves Sherbet tea (with one sugar) it’s just classic.

“I believe ‘wild goose chase’ were the words they used.”

“Well, as it happens, Parker loves a good chase. Parker, bring the car around would you? That’s right Sherbet. ‘On the double’.”

“hOn the double, hit his. Taking horders from ha mut, never though hI’d see the day.”

He does it anyway though - dedication right there,

Well now, time to visit the ocean. Did anyone else think the Deep Ocean Surveyor looked a bit... wrong? I had bad feelings about that thing from the start.

“This ship sure is a weird looking thing.”

Yeah, thanks for the back up there Gordon. Should have kept a closer eye on that one, although I do completely understand why they got so distracted and don’t blame them for it.

I love how Scott - Mr in command and always right - turns straight towards the TV-21 as soon as he knows they’re no injuries to worry about and that the DOS is all okay. Wasn’t he the one saying there was a rescue to prioritise only minutes ago?

“Gordon, what about the TV-21? Have they found part of the wreck?”

“Stand by, Scott, I’ll take a closer look. Just gotta’ clear some debris. It’s not just part of the wreck, it’s the whole thing!”

That is actually quite surprising! You know, something surviving like that. Good craftsmanship is all I can say.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UvltZMDOK5g

I can’t describe this scene any better than the scene itself, so I’m just gonna’ leave it there for you to re-watch at your own leisure. The faces are pictures!

“Why’s everyone making such a big deal about a wrecked plane? I don’t even remember it!”

“The TV-21 was Dad’s baby. The first ever super Mach-20 ship. It was the prototype to Thunderbird One. Dad invested everything into, but The Hood sabotaged it in flight. Dad had to abandon the plane somewhere over the Maraina Trench rather than let The Hood get his hands on it. I remember it broke Dad’s heart. I always thought it was smashed and lost in the deep.”

And there we have a link to that Hood-Jeff backstory (which the writer’s then conveniently shoved into a like ten-fifteen second explanation of ‘I am a bad guy because’, but hey, we’re not quite there yet!) that kinda gets forgotten.

“Cor!”

“I believe the word you’re looking for is Bingo. Well done Bertie.”

“Very smart of you to track that signal John.”

“We got lucky.”

You don’t have to be so modest you know John.

“It seems The Hood may be up to his old tricks.”

“I’ve seen engineering like this before. It’s the work of The Mechanic.”

“Oh no! That’s The Mechanic’s ship! Thunderbird Four, get out of there!”

“Too late.”

Yeah... it might have been good to notice that a little bit sooner.

Now, someone has some serious anger issues! I mean, I now he wants them out of the way (and later on that’s he’s being controlled), but that was seriously uncalled for!

“You better come up with something fast. Thunderbird Four’s hull integrity is failing. You’re getting crushed!”

Thanks Virgil, we can see that, unfortunately. This is another of those moments where - even though I know how it ends - I have a little panic.

“Hull integrity at 28%. Gordon what are you doing?”

“The airlock’s jammed. I can’t get the door open.”

“Then make a new door! But do it fast, you don’t have long. Hull at 7%. Gordon, get out now! Thunderbird Four is offline.”

“What happened?”

“Thunderbird Four's been rendered in operative.”

“Gordon!”

“I’m here. I’m okay. But Thunderbird Four’s a little... ur... beat up.”

This is a little like that moment in ‘EOS’, where I think our collective hearts stopped.

I know Gordon left the sub to try and free it, but it was actually a good thing that he did, else he probably would have been crushed, which wouldn't have been good. He was caught a little in the blast anyway, so I’m surprised he was a well-able to continue as he was.

But back to those serious anger issues - The Mechanic, you need to learn that once you have damaged someone’s ship past the piloting level, you don’t need to then snap it in two - that is just downright mean, not to mention unnecessary!

Poor Thunderbird Four. I seriously thought at the time that it wasn’t going to be recoverable. Look at Gordon’s poor little face.

The determination to get the TV-21 back as well was just wonderful.

“Not possible, only Thunderbird Four can survive the pressure. We need to come up with something extraordinary and fast.”

“We can use the TV-21!”

“It’s been sitting on the bottom of the ocean for years. Do you think it will still work?”

“Absolutely. I build things to last.”

“Gordon, we need you to get on board the TV-21.”

“I always wanted to fly Dad’s plane.”

Of course he did.

Now this was a sight to behold. Look at him!

“I can’t believe we used to wear these things.”

This was such a lovely little throw back moment.

“You could try the Jeff Tracy fix. After all, it is Dad’s plane.”

“FAB. This is TV-21. We have lift off.”

And hell did that work!

Rescue count: 35

I mean, let’s just momentarily forget that this part ends with The Mechanic making a grand come back and stealing it.

“To The Mechanic, let me tell you who you’re dealing with. We’re International Rescue; you can’t push us around, you cant tell us what to do, and you absolutely, positively can’t take our stuff!”

“No, let me tell you who you’re dealing with. I’m The Mechanic. I take what I want, from who I want, whenever I want it.”

Yeah... shivers.

Let’s just remember Gordon’s great moment getting to pilot it.

“So tell me, what is it like flying Dad’s plane?”

“It was awesome.”

See, that’s a nicer ending.