#he was talking about how if he played a snippet of new blink the record company would kill him

[t0mcore]

why is this turning me on

[dat-town]

not gonna miss this chance

Characters: Han Seojun & soloist!female reader

Genre: fluff

Setting: true beauty au, set a year after the tv show’s ending timeline

Summary: Your career is on the verge of ending, hence your management puts you up to do a duet with the infamous Han Seojun. You have heard too many rumours about him to keep track of and yet, none of them could have prepared you for the feelings that came with meeting him.

Words: 4.1k

Self indulgent little snippet because he deserves happiness too.

You had heard of Han Seojun before meeting him, of course you had. Everybody who was in the industry had heard of the hot trend of a Newstagram star-turned idol and his band's shining debut from a year ago. They were told to have snatched teenage girls hearts all over Korea with their good looks and soulful music. You had heard their title track and you had to admit it was nice but nice wasn't enough in a cut-throat industry like entertainment.

Look at you, starting training at twelve, debuting at fifteen and now barely twenty-one you were on the verge of becoming a thrown away doll. Once you had been called cute and the it girl of your generation and now? People were saying you got boring just because your music had matured. Gosh, you couldn't keep singing about first love like your hit song had been for the rest of your life for god's sake. Your last album had been a flop, your company had been losing money and you were still afraid that even with a year left of your contract, they would cut you. But your manager had begged them for a chance and here it was: a collaboration with the newest love of Korea.

But the thing was, Han Seojun had quite a reputation and you didn't know who to believe. Some said he was well-mannered and hard-working. Others gossiped that he was always flirting with his makeup artists and Chen claimed he had been rude to her even when he had just been a ‘nobody’. Not that you were particularly fond of Chen either but as a fellow solo female singer you were a tad bit worried how the infamous singer would treat you.

Well, standing in front of Move Entertainment, you were just about to find out. Taking a shallow breath you followed your manager's lead, bowing to the receptionist and getting into the elevator after taking your visitor's badge. You had heard the company has gone through many changes after the executives were replaced due to the revealed Seyeon scandal but everything looked expensive, shiny and new, unlike in your small agency.

“Hey, I’m Lim Heekyung, nice to meet you. Seojun will be in a minute, too,” a woman in a pantsuit walked up to you on the right floor with a confident smile as she introduced herself. She led you to a meeting room which was apparently customized for a few people only and started preparing papers. She looked excited which was a relief and nice to see, at least someone from Move Entertainment was happy for this project apparently. You were a bit afraid they would see you like a leech, trying to cling onto their new star’s popularity.

“Shall we start? Seojun is a fan of dramatic entrances anyways,” Miss Lim laughed joyfully as if it wasn’t new to her that the idol didn’t make it on time. Ah yeah, you had heard rumours saying that he had something on the company and that was why they were so lenient with him.

You sat in silence, let your manager do the talk about the collaboration project. Seojun could play the guitar, you could play the piano, apparently it was perfect for a ballad duet, though if you used instruments yourself it added to the preparations time. But luckily, there was a songwriter named Leo at the company who had already sent in a few samples specifically for Seojun, so you didn’t have to start from zero.

“Ah, I see you started without me. What did I miss?” A tall boy opened the door wide and flipped down onto the chair across you casually. He had grown into his lanky limbs and with those wide shoulders hugged by the leather jacket, helix earrings in one ear and soft brown hair brushed to one side, it wasn’t a surprise how many female fans swooned over him. But there were a lot of handsome boys in the business, just his looks – no matter how confident he was in them based on the way he carried himself – wouldn’t make a difference.

Miss Lim patiently let Seojun know about the advances and only when she mentioned your name, did the boy glance at you. His dark brown eyes had a sharp form, just as piercing as his gaze, but the cunning smile spreading over his lips softened it a bit. He looked at you as if he wanted to see through you, to figure out how he should have approached you. You expected a snarky or arrogant comment, but in the end, he just flashed a blinding smile at you, one you could see on his posters, before turning back to Miss Lim.

“What’s the schedule?” he asked simply and you both were notified about the deadline of deciding and finalizing the song, the dates of planned recording sessions and the photoshoot. Since there would be no promotion period, it all would be done within a month and half from start to finish. You were a bit relieved hearing that and leave Move Entertainment without any confrontation.

You thought you were good at masking your wary feelings since the further meetings went well and the first recording session went okay-ish. Although both of you had been a bit scolded by the producer for not putting enough feelings into your singing. He claimed that the demo sent by Leo was much more emotional which made Seojun scoff and mumble under his nose. The PD called it for a day, making you promise to practice for next time and one by one they all left. Your manager told you that he would bring the car while you refresh yourself in the bathroom, so you really didn’t expect anyone to wait for you when you stepped out of the restroom, much less Han Seojun.

"Spit it out," he bit out barely glancing your way as he leaned against the corridor’s wall.

"What?" you spluttered as you were really taken aback by his out of blue appearance and question. The guy let out a tired sigh at your obliviousness and pushed himself away from the wall just to walk up to you, towering over your height with his.

"You look at me as if I killed your hamster or something. Which rumour about me bothers you? I fucking can't keep walking on eggshells around you, especially when it's just the two of us," he tsked and you gulped at the sudden called out. You didn’t think it bothered him, or that he was considerate enough to ‘walk on eggshells around you’, you merely thought he was so distant from everybody. It was still better than what Chen had told you.

"Oh, I… nothing. It's stupid. Sorry," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed for your your actions but Seojun apparently wasn’t satisfied without a real answer as he carried on:

"I didn't bully kids in high school but I threatened ones that deserved it, I didn't only get a pity chance from the entertainment, one of our makeup artists is actually one of my best friends, I'm not…"

"Chen told me you are rude and arrogant and have no respect for girls," you blurted out to stop him from speaking because you felt like you didn’t deserve to hear all that. He didn’t owe you any explanation for the way he was. You were just co-workers for a project after all, you had no place in his life, nor he had in yours, so he shouldn’t have been that bothered by your opinion but you understood that he felt uncomfortable due to your silent accusations.

Hearing your hasty interruption, the singer scoffed, a laugh-like sound leaving his mouth.

"Well, I have no respect for girls like Chen who harass my friends and turn their lives into hell just to go on a date with me," he said and it made you blink slowly.

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh. Check your facts before you go around believing such crap," Seojun stepped back with a roll of his eyes.

The whole situation made you feel made about how you acted, so you wished to apologise but it fell from your lips all too carelessly: "Sorry, I was just worried. This is my last chance, so–"

"Last chance?" the guy quirked a brow at you, curious but you quickly waved his question away.

"Nevermind, I just need this song to do well."

"Of course, it will. I'm Han Seojun, it will turn to gold under my hands," he grinned and made eccentric gestures as if he was about to do magic. You couldn't help a smile. “Or well, vocal chords.”

And turn it to gold, he did.

The rest of your recording sessions went smoother, even the previously grumpy PD complimented your for the development in your chemistry. Funny, you wouldn’t have thought that the wall pulled up between the two of you mattered that much, but at least you didn’t have a knot in your stomach, nor did you worry about every small thing you did around Han Seojun. He also acted more casual, more playful, joking around when both of you had a bit of time to take a breather. He snapped silly pictures, showed off with his height, smirked when he got too close but despite all his bravado and lowkey flirting, you believed even he wouldn’t have jeopardised his career over something like this.

Maybe that's why wrapping up the recording felt a tad bit weird: you got used to his presence, his jokes, his beautiful, deep voice that you could have fallen asleep to. Sure, sometimes he was cocky, a bit rough around the edges but he was a great singer and a fun guy. The project seemed to work out well and you loved it a lot, so you hoped the listeners would appreciate it as well.

But before all that you had one photo shoot together for the promotional pictures and the single's cover. You were grateful for the simple pastel colour background and elegant setting. The warm light latte colour and the clock in the background really fit the song's vibe. Luckily, your dress was decent and pretty as well, you didn't have to feel uncomfortable in it at least.  However, you didn’t expect that happy yelp coming from one of the makeup artists stepping into the dressing room. You turned to face the girl, wondering whether she was your fan judged by her excitement.

"Oh my! I'm so happy to finally meet you! Seojun told us about you so much!" she beamed at you which obviously took you back. Well, that you didn’t expect at all. He spoke of you to others? Ah. Apparently to the makeup artist who was most probably that certain one of his best friends he had told you about?

"Don't exaggerate, Imju, I mentioned her like what… once?" Seojun walked in on cue. He rolled his eyes and cleared his throat, trying to avert the topic. "How's Suho?"

You had know idea who that said guy was but after a moment or two you could breathe properly once again while listening to their chatting.

“Just the usual. He’s excited about your duet.”

“Of course, he is,” Seojun grinned, a bit snarky but you could hear the proud undertones of it. When he looked at you, you were surprised by him leaning close though as he quieted down until only you could hear it. “Don’t worry, Jugyeong is really good and just stop her if she gets too gossip-y.”

“Are you talking about me behind my back, hah, Han Seojun?” The pretty girl called Jugyeong raised her fist as if she was about to hit the idol but he just laughed it off and left you two alone when he was hurried onto the set to start with his individual shoots.

“Have you known each other for a long time?” you couldn’t help but wonder as you were seated to get your makeup from her.

“Ah, almost 4 years, I think. We went to high school together. Plus, he’s best friends with my boyfriend. Though, they are always bickering like a married couple,” Jugyeong chuckled joyfully as she started with the cushion. You closed your eyes, listening as she kept going on about the time when Seojun had been obsessed with his motorbike, getting into trouble with his mother. It was strange hearing about a whole other side of him, mama's boy but the image tugged on your mouth, making you smile even though you weren't sure you had the right to know all that. You also learned that Seojun's sister was dating Jugyeong's brother and you felt so involved with the girl's trust albeit it was your last meeting, you were sure Seojun must have only told good things about you.

Hence, you felt shy under his knowing gaze when you walked out of the dressing room. He must have known that Jugyeong couldn't shut up for the life of her, so he looked a bit uncertain, too, stretching the back of his neck, forcing a cunning smile onto his smile when you took your place next to him.

To fit the ballad's theme, the setting was a piano decorated with flowers and you were instructed to sit beside him as if you were about to play a four hands piece. As you did what you had been told, you were very much aware of the way your arms brushed, his long fingers over the keys close to yours, his smile small but genuine.

"Great, great, guys! Someone help her onto the piano and Seojun, stand in front of her," the photographer directed the next scene but before any staff members would have rushed up to you, the singer next to you shushed them.

"I can do it," he insisted as he stood up and looked you in the eyes, silently asking for permission. You nodded while holding your breath back before Seojun put his hands on your waist above the fluffy tulle skirt part and counting on three, he lifted you onto the lid of the beautiful instrument.

You crossed your legs, watching in awe as your pink skirt fell down on waves  but your breath hitched for an entirely different reason when you looked up, gaze meeting Seojun's feline eyes trained on you. You had never seen him look at you like that, lacking playfulness or suspicion or curiosity. He looked open, vulnerable, outright starstruck. Your lips parted meaning to ask something but your brain shut off when you heard the shutter of the camera go down and the director yelling compliments at you. It made you snap out of it and later, you blamed the evident blush on your cheeks on the makeup. Seojun blinked too, his guarded expression back in no time, finishing the photo shoot professionally, always lingering close to you, but never touching you. Even though you wouldn’t have minded.

"Hey," Seojun peeked into your dressing room just as you were about to leave, packing up, with a smile on his mouth and sparkles in his deep brown eyes. But unlike half an hour ago when he wore a fancy suit and looked at you like a prince would have looked at his princess, he acted just as casual as he looked in his denim jacket over dark tee. "Wanna grab something with me if you finished for today?"

His question took you back but first thing first you glanced towards your manager, eyes begging for permission which you had gotten with a sigh.

"Just be discreet and call me if you need me to pick you up," your manager shrugged, leaving you two alone with a knowing look that told you to be careful. You didn't need to be told though, you knew how much depended on the current public response to your image.

"Seems like a green light. Have you thought of anything specific?" you turned back to the boy with a subtle smile.

"Not really but I know a few less frequent, secluded places to avoid much talk about us," he said and you nodded, following his lead. Masks, caps and hoodies on, you barely talk on your way to the tent with the lovely ahjumma who welcomed Seojun (two heads taller than her) with a pinch of his cheeks and told you to get seated.

"Are you a regular here?" you inquire, carefully pulling down your mask since not many people are around.

"You could say that," the boy hummed letting you adjust to the place at your own pace, not pressuring you with extra reassessments about how safe it is there. Yet, he is so casual as if he wasn't afraid of a getting mobbed by Dispatch out of the blue. Not that it happened to you a lot of times but you heard stories and at such a crucial time in your career, you feared something like that more than anything.

"Do you want to come up to mine instead?" Seojun blurted out suddenly which made you wide eyed in a span of a moment as you splattered out a surprised yelp. "Come on, I don't mean anything by it. You just look really nervous being in the public," the singer said, his deep voice softening, soothing by the end and you needed to take a breather before answering. You didn't think it was so obvious but apparently you had never been a good liar with him.

In the end, you decided on going over to Seojun's place, so he asked the ahjumma to pack your food to go and you headed towards his flat a few blocks from the company. It was a small but cozy place, much softer and brighter than you expected, lots of pastels and photos of friends and family. While the boy busied himself in the kitchen, getting you plates, chopsticks and beer, you were encouraged to look around and you couldn't help but smile at his photos with not only his band members but high school friends, too. You had seen photos of his graduation with Jugyeong, then another one of his debut with her and another guy.  He was a recurring person on a lot of pictures, so you assumed that he was the so-called Suho.

"He's Jugyeong's boyfriend," Seojun affirmed as he walked up to you which you acknowledged with a hum and smiled at his photos with his sister and mother. The makeup artist was right when she said he was only tough on the outside.

"You knew Seyeon?" you whispered as your gaze shifted of a picture of three boys smiling widely into the camera. The middle one was the talented boy you had known  from the news of his committed suicide. Such a tragedy.

"Uhum. We were best friends. Him, Suho and me," Seojun nodded and without having to ask, he told you how they had gotten to know each other, what were their favourite past time activities and how they fell apart when he died. You could see he was hurting even now as he was talking about it, so you grazed your fingers against his knuckles as though to say you were there for him to listen, or whatever he needed.

Talking about his best friends and how a group of guys including someone named Chorong stuck by his side over the years warmed your heart. It was nice to know that not everyone had it as lonely as you who basically missed out on high school and memories from that time to be able to turn your dreams into reality. Your only friends were also in the industry but it made things both easier and harder.

"What about you? What did you mean by this being your last chance?" Seojun asked like a loaded gun but after everything he had just told you, you knew you could trust him with this and being in the industry for a while now, he must have understood, too.

You told him about the rising expectations, about your image and your company's ultimatum. It actually felt nice to talk about with someone other than your manager. Especially since Seojun seemed to understand exactly why you felt conflicted over the matter. You have given your youth to this dream of yours, so giving up on it would have felt like betraying yourself and everyone who believed in you but you weren't sure you could give it another 10 years of your life no matter how much you liked music. You had decent CSATs result, maybe you could have applied for a university program. Seojun even offered to arrange a meeting between you and Suho who was studying to become a proper songwriter.

You talked for hours and ate the tteokbokki even though it had gotten cold long ago and you couldn't remember when was the last time you had felt so light. You felt giddy even with just the tiny bit of alcohol in your system by the time you knew it was time for you to go.

Once you had felt relieved knowing that promoting your duet would be only one performance but recently, you started dreading the moment because that meant that you wouldn't have any more excuse to see Seojun. In the backstage, this time around you greeted Jugyeong like an old friend and teased to give Seojun a funny makeup before walking up to your  own assigned staff members. Your look was full of sparkles and glow fitting the silver colour of your dress, completing the ethereal vibe off the stage you were going to do and the beautiful song you had grown to love so much you held it close to your heart. The last rehearsals went smoothly and if you noticed Seojun's gaze lingering a bit too long, you didn't comment on it.

"Are you nervous?" he asked before the final recording and you knew it would have been unreasonable to deny it, so you replied with a small smile.

"A bit."

"Don't be. You're pretty and you'll do amazing," he reassured you and the way he said those words oh so easy. As if they were natural. As if he believed in you and maybe this was all the reassurance you needed because when you walked up onto the stage, not taking your eyes off his, it felt like it was just the two of you there. All the stress about not being good enough, about being judged for who you were and what you wanted to do with your life was subsided as you focused on the moment, just to sing this one song with one while trying to fight your heart's crazy beating.

You didn't really have the luxury to have crushes. You had always been concentrated on your work, you couldn't let yourself have distractions, especially since love scandals always affected girl worse than guy. At least that was what you told yourself for always putting up a wall around you and guarding your heart all too well. But during the past few weeks, between playful or flirty remarks, between smiles and ruffling hair, Seojun took apart your wall brick by brick even if he wasn't aware.

So it might have been only a few days since you had last seen him but in that rare moment of boredom, alone in your room, you realized that you missed him. Hell, you liked him and the feeling made me want to scream into your pillow as if you were a silly teenager. As if on cue, your phone buzzed with a new message and seeing the KakaoTalk ID made you shy.

duet partner, han seo jun

so...

i've been thinking

you

sounds dangerous but ok

duet partner, han seo jun

don't get sassy with me, miss

you

what have you been thinking about?

duet partner, han seo jun

that i don't want to miss my chance

there's this girl i like

i thought of asking her out

do you think she would say yes?

you

oh. well... why wouldn't she?

i mean, you are talented, handsome, funny and reliable

duet partner, han seo jun

and what about my job? it's busy and a bit crazy

don't you think it would be unfair of me to ask?

you

I think you should let her decide that

duet partner, han seo jun

okay

are you free on friday?

you

um, sure?

duet partner, han seo jun

cool, then go on a date with me?

[janegrey9]

you said forever

ok so for the first jatp fic i am EVER POSTING ON THIS WEBSITE ofc it had to be something angsty 😈 and after listening to olivia rodrigo’s new song drivers license i was feeling mega inspired so… here we go i guess! also its kinda short but oh well im pretty proud of it so you can deal with its length

summary: the boys crossed over more than a year ago, but julie’s still mourning. she just got her driver’s license, and a memory comes flooding back (i’m not exaggerating when i say i legitimately listened to drivers license on repeat while writing this).

word count: 1,257

Julie wanted to cry. No, not wanted - needed. She needed to cry, to show some kind of emotion, to stop bottling it up, but she just couldn't. She needed to be strong more than she needed to cry, and what would her dad think if he walked in on her in her room, crying? He didn’t know what had happened. No one did but her and Flynn, and Julie had already spent too many hours crying on Flynn’s shoulder. 

It was a good thing, she reminded herself, a good thing that the boys crossed over after the Orpheum performance. They could be at peace now. They were with her mom now.

But, God, did she want them back. When they left, Alex, Luke, and Reggie had left behind a cosmic ache in her chest, a hole that could never be filled. Alex, with his dry comments and comforting words and dance moves. Reggie, with his honesty and loyalty and joy. And Luke, oh God, Luke. Luke with his passion and his love and his stupid, stupid smile. Some days, Julie missed her boys so much she wanted to just curl up in bed with Flynn and not move. 

Going into her mom’s studio had become a whole new level of hard. Seeing their instruments and clothes on top of her mom’s things? The mere thought of doing that made her want to cry. Julie was strong, but even she couldn't bear losing four people in less than two years. She had barely known them, time-wise, at least, but she loved them. Julie loved her boys with everything she had, and now they were gone.

Of course, it’s not like she could show it.

It’s not like she could just stop playing music again.

Not that they'd want that, anyway.

So Julie had kept going. She had gone on with regular life, acting like everything was normal when in actuality, she felt like she had shattered into a thousand pieces.

She had continued on with her life, and as most teenagers do, Julie had just gotten her driver’s license. The glossy card had a picture of her, wearing Alex’s pink shirt and Reggie’s leather jacket and Luke’s wallet chain. And as the seventeen year old looked at her name printed on the license, she couldn't help slipping into a memory.

Julie and Luke sat next to each other on the sidewalk. It was growing dark, the sun disappearing over the tops of the palm trees, and Julie was getting nervous. In a few minutes, Flynn would get there and they’d have to go inside to perform their song, Finally Free, for a café of record execs. Reggie and Alex were already inside, watching the other bands, but Julie couldn’t bring herself to go in and Luke stayed with her.

As a car sped past the two of them, a question popped into Julie’s mind.

“Did you ever get your driver’s license?” She asked the boy next to her. “While you were alive, I mean.”

“Yeah. Me an’ Reggie got ours on the same day.” Luke responded, a smile on his face as he remembered the day. “Why?”

“Just curious. I’ve had my permit for a couple of months.”

“You like driving?”

“I’m not sure yet. It’s kind of stressful.”

“Yeah, I get that. Alex is the same way with it.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Like driving.”

“Oh. Yeah, I love it. My parents could never afford to get me my own car, so I usually drove my dad’s or Bobby’s car.”

“What do you like about it?”

“I dunno. The freedom, mostly, I guess. And you're stalling, by the way.”

Julie blinked innocently at Luke, finally tearing her gaze away from the road. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said.

“It’s okay, Jules. I got you. Me an’ the boys, we've got you. You’re a star, you’ll do great out there.” Luke said, looking as if he wished desperately to be able to reach out to her.

“You got me?”

“I got you. Forever.”

Julie smiled slightly at her new band mate, before looking back out at the road and spotting Flynn walking towards her. She hauled herself to her feet, whispering a small “thanks” that Luke just barely caught, and walked over to meet Flynn.

“I got my driver’s license today, Luke. Just like we talked about.” Julie said softly, leaning back onto the headboard of her bed. A tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another one, and another one, until they were flowing freely.

“I drove through the suburbs, and I pictured I was driving home to you.” She said, hoping he could hear her somehow. “I saw the sidewalks we crossed. I still hear your voice in the traffic.” 

She could still see the boys in her room, poking around in her dream box and looking at all her pictures. She could still hear Reggie’s laugh, still see Alex’s pacing, still feel Luke’s hands on her cheeks that last moment before he left her.

“Forever, Luke. You said forever.”

Julie let her head fall to the side as the tears slowed and spotted a familiar notebook next to her dream box. She wiped the last of her tears away, got up off her bed, standing on shaky legs, and got up on her toes to reach it. As Julie walked back to her bed, she opened it, almost scared of what she would see in it.

The songbook was filled to the brim; songs, poems, and miscellaneous thoughts, lyrics, and melody snippets. Julie’s smile grew every time she came across a Julie and the Phantoms song or Trevor Wilson song, but when she got to the most recent page, her smile fell.

It wasn’t a full song. It was just a title, melody, and a few lyrics, but she swore her heart stopped when she read what was scrawled across the top of the page in what was unmistakably Luke’s handwriting.

My Star.

It’s what he used to call her. A star. His star.

She sat there, holding that journal in shock, for what felt like centuries, before her brother’s voice sliced through her thoughts.

“Julie!” Carlos called from downstairs.

“Yeah?” Julie yelled back after a moment.

“Dinner!” Her little brother responded.

“Okay! Be there in a sec’!” Julie said before going back to the songbook.

She looked at that title again, needing to know it was real. Once Julie could confirm she wasn’t seeing what she wanted, she scrambled to read the few lyrics he had written, desperate to feel like he was still there. “I know we’re not perfect but I’ve never felt this way for no one. And I just can’t imagine how I’ll be okay once I’m gone.” Twenty-six words. He had written a measly twenty-six words, but it was more than she needed. Julie fumbled around on her bedside table for a pencil, the lyrics flowing from her like water in a stream. All she had to do was imagine his face, his eyes, his smile, the way he acted with the other boys, and she was filled with inspiration. Julie remembered the looks they shared while performing, the way she felt after he came to visit her at school, the way she felt that night outside the café and soon she had a new song. 

It was a sad song, a heartbroken song, but it was the last song she’d ever write with Luke. Her Luke.

Even when he was gone they made each other better.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [1]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series)

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: You meet Steve Rogers for an interview but he’s not what you expected.

Note: I’ve been trying to chill the last five days but I obviously got some writing in. It has resulted in this impromptu series and I hope you all like it. It’s looking like it will be about 10 chapters when all is said is done but that being said, I am still working on it.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Reader

Your left ankle bent as you leaned heavily on your heel. You stood before the thick walnut door, a round frosted window on its face. The townhouse stuck out on the old Brooklyn row and all knew its resident. It surprised many that he remained in the borough and he was cherished all the more for it. He was the golden boy of New York.

Well, that’s what people like to believe. You weren’t there to paint another flowery picture of the saviour. You were there to speak with the real man behind the plan. There was a story behind Steve Rogers that had yet to be told and when you were selected to tell it, you knew you had to do it right. The task was both daunting and humbling. It could be your big break.

You knocked and adjusted the bag that hung from your shoulder. You didn’t miss the group of kids at the end of the block gathered around for a glimpse of their hero. The door opened and you were greeted by the man himself. He smiled at you as his hand rested on the curled door handle.

“Hi,” He greeted you. “Thanks for coming. It saves me a lot of trouble.”

“Not at all,” You shook his hand. 

You’d spoken to him briefly over the phone and negotiated the time and place for your interview. You agreed that him coming to the office would cause too much of a flurry. You were sure he was over that.

“Come in,” He stepped back and waved you through.

He closed the door as you looked around the entryway. A thick banister with the same dark wood as the walls led up to the second level and a finely carved archway peeked through to the next room. It was cozy and a lot quainter than you expected. The exposed brick above the panelling lent it a warmth.

“Shoes?” You stopped by the mat.

“Your call,” He said. “Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Thank you, Mr. Rogers, but I’m fine,” You assured him as you stepped out of your heels. You’d hate to scuff the hardwood. “I’m sure you're just as impatient as me to begin.”

“Steve. And yeah, I suppose. I don’t really do much more than pressers and usually, I don’t do much talking.” He confessed. “Just through here,” He pointed to the front room. 

You nodded and stepped through. He directed you to the pair of armchairs before the artificial fireplace and you set your bag down as you sat. He lowered himself across from you as you reached into your bag and pulled out your phone and notebook. You swiped up and flicked your finger across the screen.

“Do you mind if I record you? It helps with editing and of course, accuracy,” You said.

He scratched his jaw and shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Great,” You hit the red dot and set the phone down on the small table with the mic facing him. 

🖋️

You were a bit surprised by how it had all unfolded, but, you supposed, you were right when you said no one was ever exactly what they seemed. Steve was nice enough as he showed you the door but you could see the agitated impatience behind his eyes. You should’ve eased him into it more. Timing was everything.

Even so, you had promised your editor a story and if you didn’t deliver after being chosen for such a coveted one, well, you would never see its likes again.

So you sat at your desk in your small but comfortable city apartment. It was nothing compared to the star-spangled hero’s walk-up but it was home. If you could work the interview the right way, it might mean an upgrade, or at least a television that didn’t flicker.

You hit play on your phone for the third time that night. Steve Rogers’ voice was etched into your brain. And that tension in his forehead, the tic in his jaw. A thinly veiled wrath unexpected of the valiant soldier-turned-saviour. You shivered and paused the recording. It was almost startling how quickly he’d turned on you, but you weren’t entirely innocent.

You stretched your fingers over the keyboard and sighed as you stared at your blinking cursor. You couldn’t just sit on this forever. You had a deadline and an extension was an impossibility, if not a death warrant for your career.

So you hit play and began to type, pausing to play back snippets as you went.

🖋️

‘It’s early afternoon in the heart of Brooklyn. Amidst the old brick buildings that line the cracked sidewalks is a townhouse unlike any other. The home of a man born there over a century ago. A living ghost that haunts the block. Most would say he is a friendly spirit.

Steve Rogers answers the door as a boy lets his baseball roll under a car and his friends lower their mitts to watch. A teen on a bike, a ring in his nose, even slows to admire the hometown hero as he smiles; a beacon of the borough. A glimmer of hope for all to think that the block is not the whole world.

He greets me like an old friend. “Hi.” The same smile seen in newsprint. He thanks me for coming and ushers me inside. This is the first time I’ve met him in person. I can’t lie; I’m intimidated. I’m just another person in debt to this great veteran.

His house isn’t what you would expect from a man as prestigious as him. No medals hanging on the wall, no vainglorious cut-outs of his image, or pictures of him shaking hands with men in suits. Only framed baseball cards along freshly laid wood-panels. It’s like any other house in Brooklyn, just newer. An ancient skeleton revived.

We sit in the front room, he offers me a drink. I’m not very thirsty. I’m more anxious to start talking. I can see he is too though his facade is hard to crack. He tells me to call him Steve as my recitations of ‘Mr. Rogers’ become almost pathetic. We begin.

Interviewer: “Great.” I hit ‘record’. “I’ll start by saying you have a nice place.”

Steve: “Thanks.” He seems to relax as he leans back in the chair which is nearly too narrow for his broad shoulders. “It took a while but I think it’s coming together.”

Interviewer: “Can’t take the boy out of Brooklyn, I guess.”

Steve: “Wouldn’t leave it for the world.” He smiles again, though he never truly looks less than amiable.

I: “Only to save it,”

S: “I do what I can.

I: “More than most; New York, Sekovia, the world. You’ve done it all. Do you ever just take a break?”

S: “I try. And sometimes I get a chance to just… be here.”

He looks around, proud of himself, of his home.

I: “Any hobbies?”

S: “You know, I used to love to draw. Nothing special, you know. But I found it calming. I actually bought a bunch of pencils and a pad but I never touched them. I’m sure they're just sitting up in my closet, neglected.” 

I listen intently, imagining this man bent over a notebook. It’s an absurd picture as my mind returns to the man in his cowl with shield in hand. The red, white, and blue bullseye is more suiting in my head than a pen.

I: “Anything else? Anything you actually do?”

S: “I like to run. Helps me get to know my neighbours, reconnect with my roots. I read… a little. I’m still not really into the whole internet thing but I try. I still get the newspaper just to read the strips and fill in the weekly crosswords.”

He confirms my suspicion. A man lost in time, but it seems he has found his place.

I: “A man for all times. And you work? I’m sure you get tired of talking about it but well, there’s been a lot of speculation about a possible retirement.”

He ‘s silent as he looks away and fidgets in his chair. He becomes the rehearsed hero at his podium. 

S: “I’d hate to fan that fire but I think it’s only natural to consider it.” 

I: “Thinking of settling down?”

S: “It’s always a thought but I’m not stupid. It’s not that simple. I’m not the type of man that gets to settle down.”

This remark might break the heart of every woman in Brooklyn and beyond but it seems to hurt him more. A grim truth for a man who many would say has the world in his hands.

I: “And if you did hang up the shield, is there anything you want to do? Anywhere you want to go?” 

S: “I’d like to try fishing. I’ve heard it’s relaxing. I love the city but it’s nice to get away now and then.”

I: “Is there anything keeping you from retiring? Besides the obvious; we all know you’re a good man and a great hero. You’ve shown commitment to the city, the world, humanity.” 

He looks to the artificial fireplace and shrugs. He’s thinking; perhaps censoring his response.

I: “Co-workers? The world is well aware of what you did for your old friend. And it has proven to be a point of contention, even after the pardon.”

He clears his throat and he’s no longer smiling.

S: “Bucky is an old friend and a commendable soldier. He does his job well. I wouldn’t take anything back. He has more than earned his place.”

I: “So, if you retired, you believe that he would retain his place among the team?”

He’s frowning now. He adjusts his posture so that he seems even bigger than before. A formidable opponent, if not an overwhelming one. 

S: “He is not there because of me. He’s there because of himself. Because he is an asset to the world.”

His blue eyes are darker now. No longer the crystalline waves shining in the sun but those foreboding tides which crash together beneath the moonless sky. My ship has gone awry, carried by an errant wind.

I: “Well, I can’t help but point out that many wouldn’t agree. You put yourself and several of your associates on the line to save him. To bring him into your fold. To place a man who was once a national enemy beside you. I hate to say it but, frankly, even if he were pardoned on his own merit, I fail to imagine him being allowed the same access to confidential intelligence and tasked with the protection of civilian life.”

His hands are fists. I could put up a front and say I’m not nervous, but I am. I have done what I once thought impossible. I have angered Steve Rogers.

S: “He wasn’r Bucky, but he is now and he has been cleared. I’m sorry, but I thought you were here to talk about me.”

I: “Yes, I am, but the world is well aware of your friendship with Mr. Barnes and all its implications. It is hard to separate him from your life.”

S: “I agreed to talk about me.”

His tone is set in stone. I attempt to stay calm myself.

I: “We are talking about you, but we can move on. Now, even with its dissolution, there are still questions being asked about the Sokovia Accords and your opposition to it. While many can acknowledge the need for your team and their work, they can’t help but wonder at the lack of restraints placed upon it. There are regulations even for the FBI and CIA and other protective services. So why should you be exempt?”

He sniffs and stands up slowly. He retreats behind his chair and nears a table along the wall. He distracts himself with a signed baseball. I don’t have a chance to ask who scribbled along the stitches as he tosses it and finds his voice.

S: “I never disagreed with the sentiment of the Accords. As heroes, of course, we should have obligations. Our first and foremost being the protection of innocent lives. The hardest to uphold but we do it.”

He is ever the statesman but he isn’t finished and his voice gets low. Dangerous, even.

S: “At the same time, we put our own lives on the line and you come here and nag me about formalities? What is it you want? Paperwork? Reports on how I threw my shield to stop a bullet from striking an innocent bystander? How a piece of shrapnel nearly severed my tendon as I threw myself in front of a speeding vehicle?”

I: “With all due respect, I am only asking about transparency. People deserve to know more. They deserve the truth.”

S: “Is that what you’re looking for? The truth? You want to know what we don’t tell you and your readers?” 

He puts the baseball down and his hand is on his hip, disapproving. I suspect his lecture will continue. He nears the chair and grips the back of it as he narrows his eyes at me. I fear he might throw it in my direction though for now, I hope it should act as my own shield against him.

S: “About how I have to lie about how many men I lose to keep this world safe. Because I can’t scare the people. Because I have to keep on this mask of the brave hero.”

His eyes go to the ceiling. He takes a breath to calm himself. I can tell he wants to continue. That he is holding back something which has brewed within him for a very long time. It is a moment before he speaks again.

S: “We’re done here. That’s it. Turn your phone off and go.”

The interview is over. What happens next will remain off the record. I leave with a mouth full of bile. My childlike wonder has been extinguished. I came to seek out the man behind the shield and I have done just that, but he is not who I expected. 

I was ready for a humble man, a man like any of us; the same wants and desires. Still human despite his enhancements; despite his superhuman status. What I discovered was a man who’s exceptionality has nurtured a sense of entitlement. 

And we do owe him our lives, our gratitude, we owe him the world. Yet I cannot dismiss the sense that he might regret his good deeds. That to him, it has become a thankless chore. That we are the needy children and he has been burdened with our cries for help.

So we should not be surprised or upset upon his retirement, not if, but when it comes. And we cannot fault him for his departure. It has been a long-time coming.’

🖋️

You took a breath and sat back in your chair. You rubbed your cheeks as the recording began to repeat itself. You stopped it and checked the time. You’d spend your morning editing and hope you would be ready for submission by the evening.

As you hit save, you felt an odd tremor deep inside. This could be it. Your big story. Or you could be tired and entirely up your own ass. You only hoped it was the former.

🖋️

You sat across from Poppy as she read your article through the glasses which sat low on her long nose. She was just past forty and wouldn’t look it if she didn’t wear the ridiculous half-circle spectacles. She wore a shade of red which paid homage to her name and her lipstick was just as bold. Her long lashes flicked up as she lowered the pages and her blonde hair fell behind her shoulder.

“Well…” She said carefully. “It is…interesting.”

You swallowed nervously as you teetered on the edge of the acrylic seat. Her long manicured nails played with the corner of the article.

“I had initially planned to have this in the back pages. No one really cares about the Avengers anymore.” She said. “But this is… I will discuss it with our marketing team but I know a feature when I see it.”

“A feature?” Your lips parted and you sat back as you gripped the thin arms of the chair.

“Oh, yes,” She said. “Another celebrity break-up is not exactly scandalous and to be frank, I do tire of that ridiculous narrative. But this… you will be hearing from me soon.”

“Uh,” You stood awkwardly at what you were sure was a dismissal. “Thank you.”

“For what? Doing my job? Should I thank you for doing yours?” She countered.

“N-no,” You stuttered.

“Go on then. I’m certain you have other work to do.” She tapped her long nails. “You certainly will once this is ready to print.”

You nodded and left her. She was already on her phone before the door closer behind you and you looked around the blindly bright office. It would be your first feature and it was the first article which had earned you more than a passive grumble from the woman. Perhaps you hadn’t been so foolish to think you had actually done something well.

[1ddiscourseoftheday]

🦠Wed 4 March 🛫

Zayn signed with a live show booking agency!!! Like is it possible that he just is always signed with someone and needed to switch it up, sure, BUT IT'S ALSO POSSIBLE HE'S GOING TO PLAY LIVE SOUND THE FUCKING ALARM! They POSTED ABOUT SIGNING HIM... maaaybe??? Wow and you thought having OT4 out there all playing shows at the same time this year was gonna be a lot OT5 are really coming for our necks (and wallets jesus.)

Lights Up video director Vincent Haycock tells us that we will never (ever ever) see the director's cut of the video. BOOOOO WTF that's terrible news! And WHY NOT? Many turned their sadness over this news to anger, asserting that it was a conspiracy on the part of HSHQ because the full length was too subversive. Well it could be, what do I know! If people wanna blame Jeff and boo him about it you know I'm always down for that. The full length video of the Howard Stern interview and performance had been posted, though (speaking of conspiracy theories) someone said it wasn't full length even though it says that ("full length"), that maybe the show had edited? Idk. And a long CBC interview (recorded last week) aired. Harry says the album is called Fine Line because it's about "the fragility of emotion and how fast that can change," and that the idea that you can't make certain kinds of music because the fans "won't get it" isn't worth limiting yourself for because (to paraphrase heavily) the fans don't know less about how to listen to music than people in the industry do.

Louis' Madrid show was added for Mar 10 ("a small show" according to Louis) but sadly the Milan show (Mar 11) was cancelled (along with all other large public events in Italy it's not just Louis.) Fuck! I hate this for Louis! It's the TOUR the biggest most anticipated thing that should be the happiest moment and this hanging over the whole thing! I mean I hate the possiblity of a global pandemic and people dying quite a bit as well, yes, but LT TOUR, COME THE FUCK ON HIGHER POWERS. Anyway some do but I don't think it's weird he added the show last minute personally. He said a while back that he'd be adding more shows probably, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if they do more very close to the dates (assuming we aren't living in some kind of post apocalyptic hellscape that prevents that by then.)

Niall posted video and pics from the Spotify singles recording, and today's HBBW song is Everywhere, yes: another single common word song title that's confusing to talk about because it isn't clear you mean the song necessarily. The lyrics today are, "you walk into the room I go quiet. I catch your eyes and don't blink an eyelid. Feels like the world locked us on an island. An island without waves." He said the lyrics he's sharing aren't his favorite ones, that he's saving those for next week, but idk if I believe him about this song, he was at least excited enough about the island part to tweet it a while back. The daily snippets are going backwards through the track list, counting down to the first song and the release, so tomorrow's is Arms of a Stranger, which we learned is the song Niall wrote in a dream! Looking forward to that one. Taylor Swift praised the Lover cover ("absolutely stunning") and you know Niall was pumped for that so he's having a good day I betcha.

[pynkhues]

i know that the audacity of what im about to ask is off the charts bc you're already too good to us, writing fic left and right and updating a lot soon but im SO weak over the parenting group!AU that im right here to beg for a snippet of it, if you feel like sharing!

Haha, the audacity is not off the charts at all! I can give you a snippet! Sorry it’s coming a little later – when you sent this to me this morning, I was like ‘oh god, everything I have is too ugly to post’ haha, so it gave me an excuse to tidy up a scene I’d drafted already which is fun! 

I will say as just a heads up, I’m operating now on a one-out-one-in system for multi-chaptered WIPs. So when I finish CYF (which is basically done, just got to post the epilogue!), I’ll be starting to post the pirate au, and when I finish See You in the Light, I’ll be starting to post this parents group au, and then finally when I finish If It Wasn’t for All the Lights, I’ll start to post the BDSM au! It’s probably a deeply flawed system, but it’s the one I’m going ahead with, haha.

Anyway! 

A snippet of the parents group au!

“C’mon, pop,” Rio grunts, trying to get the tabs free on the side of the diaper as Marcus kicks out his legs, squirming up the back of the change mat like he’s trying to slip up on out of the thing, and shit, the last thing he needs is the kid to smear Rhea’s Earth Mama Angel Bottom Balm up the back of his new hoodie.

“I have spare diapers if you need to borrow one,” Beth says at the change table beside him, having apparently gotten Jane into her new one in record speed, and Rio lets his gaze stick for a second, watching as she makes even easier work of getting Jane’s thrashing legs back into her pink polka dot leggings, like it’s nothing at all. It’s enough to make his jaw rock, his attention twisting back to Marcus, trying to get the tab unstuck again, but his fingers are still oily with the diaper rash cream, and Marcus’ face is gettin’ redder, and he just can’t get his grip.

He tugs Marcus back towards him, dropping a hand to his son’s belly, tickling a little to try and calm him down, even as he levels Beth with an irritated look.

“Yeah, what part of this looks like the diaper’s the issue?”

Somewhere outside, he hears her friend laughing, the sound loud and warm over the pinging arcade machines and the banging of the bowling balls hitting the polished floor of the lanes, the crack of one hitting pins, and - - and he ain’t being fair.

Knows that.

It’s not her fault he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

Still, when he glances sideways at her again, she’s unbothered by his tone – not pissed like Rhea would be, or wounded like his ma – and something about that bothers him more than it should. Instead, Beth shrugs, fixing her gaze back down on her daughter.

“It just looks like it’s one of those organic ones, right?” she says, gently lifting Jane to put her onto her belly for a few minutes of tummy time – just like Nance had told ‘em to in class – before turning to better look at Rio, her eyes tired as she watches him yank again on the tab of Marcus’ diaper. “I tried those with Kenny, and I just find the tabs always - -”

Riiiiiiiip.

He can feel his pulse in his throat as his cream-covered fingers clench around a handful of torn diaper, can feel it even harder behind his eyes, his blood thrumming hot beneath his skin and damn, it ain’t anger, it’s just - -

Fuckin’ exhaustion.

He pulls the diaper out from underneath Marcus’ bare, wet-with-diaper-cream ass and stamps his foot hard down on the peddle of the bin beside the change table, tossing the whole damn thing in with more force than necessary, and he’s expecting Elizabeth to have that look on her face again – that one that’s some mix of pity and judgement or even worry at seein’ a guy like him snap – but it ain’t even really a look at all. She’s just magicked up one of her kids’ diapers from that Mary Poppins bag of hers, and holds it out to him.

“If you loosen the tabs and open it up a bit before you get it under him it’ll be easier too,” she offers, and Rio grunts, plucking it from her hand and fixing his attention back on Marcus’ flailing legs, sucking in a breath to calm his frayed nerves, before gently lifting his son again to get the diaper up underneath him, adjusting it to get it in the right spot, trying to avoid Marcus’ kicking feet, and it’s just - - sudden.

That’s the thing.

Because Marcus’ legs calm down right in time with Beth’s arm suddenly pressing into Rio’s, and Rio blinks up to see Beth reached over and her finger is curled in Marcus’ tiny fish, and Rio tears his confused gaze away from Beth to look up and see his son smiling, that one that makes him look like the whole damn sun, and he keeps smiling, even when he shoves his fist – still clutchin’ Beth’s finger – right up into his mouth.

And he’s gonna stop it – ain’t like he loves other people’s kids chewing on his knuckles – but he finally gets Marcus properly into the clean diaper, and before he can do anything else, Beth’s just started talking.

“That is a strong grip,” she whispers, so quiet it’s almost like she doesn’t want Rio to hear, and her voice is light and bright in a way he ain’t really used to hearing. “And very warm slobber, which is what you want from slobber. I mean, can you even imagine cold slobber? Like a ghost. I will say Billy from class has some weirdly cold slobber, so you stay away from him, mister.”

Rio just - - blinks, his brow furrows, his lips parting, but when he opens them all the way, no words come out. Instead he just stands there like a dumbass, watching this woman half-bent over her kid and his at the change table of a bowling alley, her strawberry blonde hair falling down, concealing her face so all Rio can see is his son’s, and how whatever it is she’s doing makes his son happy, and he can’t really explain any of it, but he just - -

“Oh my god, Paulie! Twins!”

“Amber, don’t - -”

Whatever Paulie was about to say is lost to the rest of the parents’ room as Rio spins to see a skinny, leggy blonde thrust a toddler with milkshake-vomit down his shirt at some guy with frosted tips like this is the fuckin’ 90s, and dart towards them in a wave of too-sweet perfume. She’s so fuckin’ quick (or maybe just - - y’know - - awake given her kid’s old enough to vomit milkshake instead of formula), instantly peering over at Marcus and Jane on the change tables, an easier feat now that Beth’s standing up again, her finger reclaimed, rolling Jane back onto her back on the mat.

Amber’s cooing is instant, and Rio sighs, grabbing Marcus’ pants from where he’d slung them over his shoulder and starting to shake them out.

“Oh my goooodddd, they’re like those ones you see on TV! Paulie!! Look!! Like, one’s just like mommy, and one’s just like daddy.”

Which - - Rio blinks, looking sideways at Beth, who just seems to be watching Amber with that same neutral, Stepford Wife-look she gets in class. Rio sets his jaw, shaking his head, as he starts to bunch the pants up in his hands, ready to put them on Marcus, opening his mouth to correct the other woman.

“Nah, they ain’t - -”

“You think so?”

The words are offered so suddenly, so sharply, that Rio’s head spins back around to look at Beth again, his eyebrows raised at her interruption, but she doesn’t look back at him, just keeps her gaze fixed on Amber. She wrinkles her nose a little, purses her lips, before dropping a hand back to the change table while leaning forwards a little, almost conspiratorially.

“We’ve been thinking about signing them up for auditions, but I don’t know,” she waves a hand suddenly at Rio, who only blinks at her. “James here thinks it might not be the best idea.”

And okay, for starters, fuckin’ James? She really wants to play him like that? But also - - just - - y’know. What the fuck? Rio stares at her, taking in her widening eyes and her baggy mama sweater that does exactly zero to hide the fact that she’s stacked, but also the fact that she’s holdin’ herself kinda different all of a sudden. Like she’s caught him looking, her gaze darts towards him, and it’s so quick he almost misses it, the way she just sort of - -

Shrugs.

Rio scoffs a little – a sound Amber clearly reads as about the audition and not about this whole damn show – and turns around, putting on a smile for Marcus as he finishes bunching up the pants and pushing them up over his tiny feet.

“Men are always weird about this stuff, but you guys should totally be auditioning them! Like, I could literally see them in commercials for formula. You know they always put the cutest ones in them, because they want to trick regular people into thinking that their product’s gonna like, magic you a better-looking baby.”

Which - - look, Rio can’t exactly say it’s a surprise. He’s pretty sure his sister changed her kids’ brand of juice because one of the ads had one of the little girl’s playin’ Daisy Doctor instead of Holly Housewife. His thoughts are interrupted though when Marcus sneezes, and Rio leans over enough to grab a tissue from Beth’s diaper bag, vaguely aware of Paulie rounding the change tables for the sink, and tugging off his own kids’ shirt and it’s really only then that Rio realises he hasn’t even blinked at the smell of vomit, which - -

Okay, actually, that could be the fifteen years working in a bar.

“You know, I think I’ve heard that,” Beth says, and the girl makes a humming noise, her bowling shoes tapping a little on the tiled floor.

“Well, that’s an insider secret for you. I lived in LA for like, ever. It was almost two years. I mean, closer to one, but that’s basically 40 Hollywood years. I even once auditioned to play a mom in a Baby’s Only commercial. I mean I didn’t get it, but I think it was because I was like, too in shape, y’know?”

Which - - shit, Rio coughs a little to cover a sound he doesn’t even know, a laugh? A scoff? Why the hell is she even talkin’ to this woman?

“Wow,” Beth says though, her voice loaded with concern. “That’s gotta be discrimination.”

“I know right?”

And it’s Jane who wobbles at least, her bottom lip quivering, her legs kicking, and Beth turns around instantly, humming softly back down at her daughter, and before Rio can help it, his gaze darts over to her, watching as her face softens, her eyes glaze over, like they do sometimes, and he thinks of saying somethin’ to her, but shit, what? He doesn’t know jack about her.

A wave of perfume hits them again, and the second he finishes getting Marcus’ pants on, picks him up, turns around at the same time Beth does with Jane, Amber’s right in front of them, her gaze darting between Jane and Marcus, like she’s not sure which one to look at first.

Finally, she just sighs, clutching a hand forlornly to her chest.

“Like, I’m not even kidding. You made two really nice babies. Like, Paulie, tell them I’m not kidding.”

Over at the sink, Paulie grunts again, holding the toddler’s shirt under a furious stream of water, and Rio stares for a minute, watching the guy morosely clean up toddler vomit while the kid licks the rim of the sink. Rio resists the urge to gag as he bounces Marcus a little on his hip.  

“How’d you two even meet anyway?”

And at least that much he should’ve expected. Rio shakes his head, gaze fixing back on Amber, the words ready on his tongue, but before he can say a damn thing, Beth’s cut him off again.

“It sounds so weird, but it was actually at an underwater research center.”

Which - - okay - - what?

His gaze flicks back to Beth, but she ain’t looking back at him. She’s just got Jane curled into her chest, nestling her face into her breast, while Beth hums a little, just - - blatantly fuckin’ lying.

“I was studying - - ” outside, a bowling ball hits the floor hard. “How sound affects  - -“ she fingers her pearl necklace with the hand not clutching Jane, “Oysters, because I am a scientist, and James here was researching - - ” Beth’s gaze darts around, fixing on Marcus in Rio’s arms. “Marco Polo.”

Before Rio’s even had time to catch up to that, Paulie blinks up, confused, from his spot at the sink.

“In Detroit?”

It’s enough to make Beth stutter, her eyes blinking rapidly, and he really should just leave her to fix this herself, should leave her there gaping like a fish, scrambling for the tail-end of her own lie, and get back out to the group, but - - Rio sucks in a breath - - Marcus would be bare-assed right now if it wasn’t for her.

“Nah, man, west coast. We just moved back here to be close to family with the twins,” he drawls with a shrug, and maybe that makes it worth it – how quickly Beth reels around to look at him, and  - - shit, have her eyes always been that blue? Rio blinks, jerks his head back around to Amber, rolling his shoulders back to undo the sudden knot in them. “One of those things, yeah? We met workin’ out there, but turned out we were both from here.”

He means to leave it at that. Should, really, but all he can think about is her in class – prim and proper and that look again, like she’s judging him, and she got them into this, right? Before he can think twice, he drops his free hand to her lower back, smoothing it around to hold the soft hip furthest from him, smiling toothlessly as Beth stiffens and then pointedly, deliberately, relaxes, while Amber holds her hand to her chest again, hums an: “Aww, that’s how you know it’s meant to be!”

“That’s right,” Rio replies, and he watches Beth turn her face up to meet him, her gaze darting across his face like she’s trying to figure something out, and shit, he’s just trying to match what she’s laying down. After a moment, Beth spins into him, her free arm dipping around his back, and something in him sparks hot and he just - - he hadn’t known how fucking small her hands were until one squeezes at his waist.

“Right, honey,” she says, voice high and too-sweet. “I was just so lucky. And speaking of our families, we should really get back to them.”

After that, it’s easy enough to pack up the last of the diaper bags, for Amber to dip down to help Paulie and the kid, and for them to slip out again under the distraction, and it’s just fuckin’ weird, he thinks, to watch that little character Beth had invented – all ease and charm – slip off her shoulders like a cloak, and he means to let it go, because what skin is it off his nose if she’s some sort of pathological liar? But as they duck between the groups of sprawling teenagers and middle America families ordering fries and picking bowling ball weights, guys shoving each other at arcade games, and kids feeding quarters into claw machines, he just - - itches.

So maybe he steps a little slower, matching her pace, maybe he looks at her, amused, a little goading as he says: “So you in some secret, new mama improv group, or what?”

And Beth just - -

Shrugs, and shit, she doesn’t even look at him when she says:

“You don’t ever get bored of just being you?”

Rio blinks, his step slowing all over again, taking in her tired look, the diaper bag slung over her shoulder, that shirt she’s wearing, stained with grubby children’s fingers and milk, that damn new mama smell that’s always up his nose with her, and he just thinks - - nah, not really, but before he has the chance to say it, it’s like she’s read it on his face. She hoists a snuffling Jane up a little higher and moves faster than she has any right to. Back across the bowling alley, back into their lane, nestled in the shelter between her friend and her sister, away from him.

[wckdlttlsnnrs28]

Panic songs we never got to hear and the lore around Panics unreleased material.

Cricket and clover (full album)

Also known as the “Cabin” album, this album was the 2nd studio album they wrote. It was scrapped in 2007 and they went on to write Pretty. Odd. Jon Walker has demos he found in his dads garage and Ryan Ross allegedly has them also. They haven’t been released/leaked for legal reason.

Freckles (Feat. Weezer)

This song was written for Vices & Virtues and has been never released. Brendon teased in an interview that it would maybe be a bonus track on Vices but that never happened. And this is something I speculate and isn’t a proven fact but one time someone asked Brendon what his favourite vices bonus track was and he said something along the lines of “I won’t tell you because you’ll never get to hear it” and I think that could possibly mean Freckles.

The Mark Hoppus co-written and produced songs

Back in 2009 Brendon, Spencer and Mark Hoppus of Simple Creatures, +44 and Blink-182 were writing songs together. Allegedly according to Urie, the songs were going to be produced by Hoppus and on the new record [Vices]. However, no song is credited to Hoppus on the finished record. According to Spencer, Mark Hoppus was too busy to produce anything at the time but whether any songs were ever written is unknown. An interviewer asked Spencer if they’d be on the next album and Spencer seemed keen on it being a possibility.

Coeur De Guimauve

This was the original title of Girl That You Love. The song was originally written in French, but the band decided to change the lyrics to something that sounded similar which is how Girl That You Love was born. I don’t know if the French version was ever recorded. coeur de guimauve translates to English as “heart of marshmallow/Marshmallow heart”

Pretty In Ink (Feat. 5SOS)

I have no idea when it was made but Brendon first talked about it in 2015. Then again in 2016, and again in 2019. He allegedly took the song to the bands studio and they worked on it and never put it out. I’ve heard that 5SOS have said the song will never be released, but I can’t find any credible sources for it.

Night Birds

This was a song written for Death Of A Bachelor. It’s only been talked about once in an article. He said he took it off the album last minute and described it as a "...Driving arena-rocker with a flashy guitar solo". He also described the song as "A little too early Butch Walker, but definitely not as good.” I personally doubt the song will ever be leaked or released.

Just A Simple Sponge

Obviously we’ve all heard of this song. We all know about it’s tony nomination and stuff like that, however we have never heard Brendons demo of it which allegedly exists.

Impossible Year (Vices Demo)

This is alleged on my part, because I have no idea if it actually exists or not. But the song was written some time after the spit of ‘09 before Vices was released. Whether or not Urie ever recorded a demo is up to speculation but it’s highly likely.

“One This Time” , “Post To London” & “Say Hello To The Bad Guy 007”

Three songs that I do not have any creditable sources for. I’m not even sure if they ever existed, but allegedly were written at some point. One This Time was allegedly co written by Butch Walker. Post To London was allegedly co written by John Feldman. These were discovered listed on the ASCAP website around later 2016.

Fuck Your Dreams

This was a song brendon wrote around kinky boots, was originally for Pray For The Wicked (I think) and got scrapped. (Allegedly.) it was also one that was listed in the fake track list that leaked before the real one, but in an interview with PopBuzz in 2016 he said it was a song he had written (but it could have been a joke.)

Cult Cobain

Also a song that was featured on the fake track list for Pray For The Wicked but this one has also been mean red before on a periscope. Whether it’s real or not, I’m not personally sure.

“Fuck You Craig” J.Cyrus

Last year in 2018 J-Cyrus played a snippet on a Twitch stream and said “there’s a way to tease it” and played a short clip of a song where Brendon sings. I don’t know if it’ll ever be released as I haven’t seen or heard anything as a follow up to it. Even though we did hear a clip, it never met the light of day. (Edit: with the more recent exposure of Jeff’s abusive nature, it’s safe to say this song will more than likely never be released.)

Pray For The Wicked Tour live recordings

Not much is known about them, but Brendon has said the tour songs were recorded. He has no plans of doing anything with them, but I think they’re worth mentioning.

All The Boys (Dallon Version)

According to Dallon Weekes’s wife, Breezy, there is a version of Dallon singing this song which is a bonus track from Too Weird. Not much else is known.

Girls/Girls/Boys (Brobecks version)

Allegedly he recorded some of the song back in 2009 with the far too young demo, but it sucked and they scrapped it. This is according to @/sledbeds so I’d say it’s probably true.

That one song Brendon leaked a few seconds of that didn’t make it onto PFTW

According to Brendon he had “15 b-sides” to Pray For The Wicked, so I assume this is one of them. Very curious as to what that song was.

Vegas Lights (explicit demo)

We’ve all read them. We know why they were scrapped. But was a demo ever recorded of these lyrics? Dallons voice? Brendons voice? No one knows for sure. But there’s a possibility that this recording could exist somewhere in the vaults.

Everyday I Write The Book (Elvis Costello cover)

Brendon recorded this cover with butch walker in around 2010/2011 and it was never released. Probably recorded for Northern Downpour and was never used.

Miss Jackson (the Alt Versions.)

Of course we all of Bad Apple, the controversial demo that sparked a feud with artist Fiona Apple. But there were other versions of the song. Lord knows how many and if they were ever recorded into demos, but Audrey Hepburn was one that they tried. The words were alegedly “miss Hepburn”. They also tried Marilyn Monroe but it “didn’t work out syllabically”

We’re In Love

The original title for The End Of All Things. There is also an “improv” Brendon preformed once on a periscope live where he sings lyrics saying “we’re in love.”

Metal Demo w/ Mike Naran on guitar

I’m pretty sure this was an unheard edition to the first metal demo Brendon shared with us, which is in the style of black metal. Brendon once muted a stream when Mike sent an audio file of a guitar part for a metal song. We will most likely never hear it.

The other Fun. songs

C’mon was not the only song Panic! Wrote with Fun./Nate and Jack. There we’re actually two versions of C’mon also, one of Brendon singing and one of Nate singing. Ultimately they mixed them together, but surely somewhere the original stems exist.

MØ song feat. Brendon

According to Brendon, MØ wrote a song and sent it to him, and he sang on it but “butchered” it and that It would probably never be released.

Song with Imogen Heap

Urie talked about this in a pre-split interview.

Every Chest You Stake, Toffee, TERNURA, QUARTETO, Poly Metal Melody, Anti-Neo Metal (and more)

These were all song titles/beat titles from a twitch stream where he accidentally showed a screen of his Logic files. Anti-Neo metal is most likely the metal song he played on the 24 hour charity stream.

(One of the most important articles used to write this is this one with Spencer. )

[strangermask]

AU

I got an opposite au that deals with season 11 stuff. I made three versions, so here is version 2 with not a lot of angst (Also inspired by spinchip nice emperor au).

So I call it the Steam Chapter.

Click “keep reading” if you want to know more. If you haven’t watched season 11 yet, please don’t. It will contain spoilers.

There might also be snippets in here.

So, what would have happened if Zane wasn’t the only person who got sent to the Never Realm?

Kai got in the way while Aspheera tried to banish Wu, but he and Zane both got sent to the Never realm.

snippet 1:

Vex looked at the strange objects that fell out of the sky. Another portal opened, and two people fell down. They landed on the snow, passed out. Vex looked at them. One was laying face down with brown hair and red clothing. The other facing up, wearing white and blue clothing and with titanium skin. The titanium one opened its eyes, and Vex hid. 

********************************

Zane opened his eyes. He got up and noticed him sparking. He opened the top hatch on his chest and adjusted the inside. He closed it and looked around. “Hello?” He spoke. “Is anyone there?” He heard groaning and looked down. He spotted Kai.

“Kai!” Zane shouted as he bent down to Kai.

“Ugh,” Kai groaned. “Zane?”

Zane helped Kai up.

“What were you thinking?” Zane asked. “You could have been hurt or-”

“I didn’t want to lose you,” Kai said. “I tried to push you out of the way, but that didn’t seem to work.” He grabbed his right arm in pain.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Zane did a health scan.

“Your arm is broken.”

“Great.”

“Kai, you’re in pain.”

“Just leave it.”

“I am trying-”

“Do you think I could have handled you disappearing again? Stop worrying about me!”

Zane blinked. Kai sighed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from.” Kai apologized.

“No, it’s fine...” Zane said. “I shouldn’t have sacrificed myself...again.” He looked at the green titan mech and climbed on top of it.

“Where are we?” Zane whispered to himself.

End of Snippet 1:

So Zane starts to on the green titan mech while Kai rests. Vex is watching the whole time. Zane notices a storm coming and realizes he and Kai need to take shelter. Zane knows he can’t leave the mech, so he tries to use his powers. That didn’t work, so he decides to use the forbidden scroll. He does so and tells Kai to get on the platform with the mech. Then the two search for shelter with Vex following behind. After traveling and getting near shelter, a giant owl appears and attack. Zane fends the owl off with the scroll powers. Zane gets inside, sets up ice defense, and puts the mech up. Kai fell asleep during the trip. Zane starts to work on the mech again then sets up the recording.

Snippet 2:

“And to Pixal,” Zane said. “I’m sorry.” He finished the recording and looked at Kai. 

“As you would say, here goes nothing.” Zane said then connected himself to the mech.

Commencing system diagnostic.

Do not remove data cable. Data interruption may result in system failure and/or memory loss. Commencing diagnostic. 10% complete.

Vex came up to Zane and waved in front of him. He tried speaking to the stranger, but he would not respond. The computer continued to speak. Vex laughed quietly and picked the scepter up. He tried to freeze Zane, but nothing happened. Kai started to wake up and noticed Vex pointing the scepter at Zane.

“Hey,” Kai shouted. “What are you doing?”

Vex looked at Kai as he got up.

“It is not your business.” Vex answered. He looked at Zane and had an idea. Vex walked to Zane, reaching out to the cable attached to his head.

“Leave him alone!” Kai exclaimed as he charged at Vex.

The two started to fight as Kai tried to defend Zane. Soon, Vex got the upper hand and knocked Kai out.

“First, I’ll take care of your friend than you.”

100% complete.

Zane came back online and saw Vex standing in front of a knocked out Kai. Vex turned around and became pale.

“What happened?” Zane asked then noticed Vex holding the scepter. “You...hurt my friend.” 

Vex panicked and ran off with the scepter. Zane ran to Kai. He was out cold.

“Kai...” Zane spoke sadly.

He picked Kai up and looked at the mech. They can come back anytime, but Kai needed help now.

End of snippet 2:

So Zane carries Kai out and seeks for help. After traveling for some time, Zane ran into the palace. He was brought inside with some guards. He begged the emperor to help Kai. Zane promises in return to do some work for the emperor. He felt bad for the two boys, so he let them stay without having Zane doing any work. 

Kai wakes up, and he starts to get better. On the week Kai was fully healed, there was a giant blizzard that was too dangerous to walk through. The Emperor let the two stay until the storm died down.

But then Vex comes in with the forbidden scroll and attacks Kai and Zane. Vex found an ancient magical sword made from the coldest metal in the Never-realm. Kai got hit by magic rays in the eye and cheek. A battle ensues, the Emperor gets hit, and Kai gets his fire back. Vex was arrested and taken to the Palace’s prison. The Emperor knows he’s going to die soon, so he gives the title of Emperor to Kai and Zane.

The Emperor dies, and Kai feels super guilty. The coronation was going to be held after Kai healed up again since Zane doesn’t want to stress Kai more than he already is.

Snippet 3:

It was coronation day for Kai and Zane. Kai was in the changing room looking in the mirror. His left eye was a bright pale light snow blue. His cheek had a permanent scar from the incident. He was dressed in red, black, and golden emperor clothes and his hair tied up. There weren’t any gel to keep his spiky hair, but, hey, what can you do? “Kai?” A voice spoke.

Kai turned around and saw Zane. He was dressed in white, light blue, and grey emperor clothes.

“Zane,” Kai chuckled. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check up on you. It’s almost time for the ceremony.”

“Yeah...”

Zane put a hand on Kai’s shoulder.

“Are you feeling alright?” Zane asked.

“No,” Kai frowned. “I don’t think I should be Emperor of this realm.”

“Why?”

“Zane. I barely survived raising my sister alone while maintaining a shop so we can live. I couldn’t handle being a ninja, and I should not have ever become a ninja. I’m a terrible person. Someone like me shouldn’t be emperor.”

“Kai-”

“I’m emotionally damage,” Kai started to cry. “I am not stable. I am not perfect. Hell, I had a breakdown for a whole year, and I went to an underground fighting tournament and became an alcoholic to handle it.”

Zane's eyes widen.

“Was...that the year I died?” Zane asked.

Kai didn’t say anything. Zane hugged Kai.

“I’m so sorry,” Zane said, hugging tightly. “I didn’t realize how much damage I caused you. I promise I won’t abandon you again. I’m going to try and help you. I can’t promise I will make everything better in a snap of a finger, but I promise I’m going to help you.”

Kai choked backed tears and hugged Zane back.

“Thanks, bud.” Kai said.

“It’s my pleasure.”

The two finished up their hug-fest and went outside to get crowned for Emperor.

End of Snippet 3 because I don’t know how to do a coronation speech:

Kai and Zane were crowned Emperor, and it’s been a month since then. Kai and Zane are starting to think the ninjas weren’t going to be able to bring them back. They probably don’t know the two are still alive.

So time went on and Kai started to feel feelings for Zane. After a few months, Kai asked Zane out. And they start to date.

They dated for five years, and Kai was getting ready to propose.

Snippet 4:

Kai hold the ring in his hand. He couldn’t believe he was doing this. “Five years,” Kai whispered to himself. “I can’t believe it’s been five years, but here goes nothing.”

Kai put the ring in his pocket. He went outside to meet with Zane.

“Hello Sir,” Kai said. “Nice day we’re having.”

Zane turned around and smiled.

“What?”

“You have something planned.” Zane said.

“What do you mean?”

“You use that tone of voice whenever you have something planned.”

“Well...I might have a little something.”

“Oh? What might that be?”

“It’s a surprise, so I can’t spoiler anything.”

“If it’s a gift for our anniversary, I think you’re a little early. That is still one month away.”

Kai started to get nervous.

Just play it cool. Kai thought. He’s obviously joking, right? You don’t have to panic. Just make sure you don’t say something stupid.

“Say, I think it’s time to go to the garthing-I mean garden.”

Zane thought for a moment.

“The garden does sound nice,” Zane took Kai’s hand. “Let’s go.”

The two walked to the palace’s garden. Kai was getting more nervous about the proposal. He was wondering if this was a good idea.

“Kai?” Zane spoke. “Are you okay?”

“I have something to ask you.” Kai blurted.

Why did I say that!? Kai yelled at himself.

“Oh. Umm, okay. What did you want to ask?”

Kai put his hand in his pocket with the ring. He grabbed it and took a deep breath. There was no backing out now.

“Zane,” Kai started. “We’ve been in this world for a while now. It’s a little strange, but it’s nice. We’ve met new people, seen things never seen before, and...discover things. A lot of things.”

“Yes,” Zane said. “I suppose we have.”

“And, well, to add to that, we became emperors. I’ve also gotten better thanks to you. And I was somehow bless with dating you. I have been thinking for a while, and I think we might need to take this to another level.”

Zane started to frown a bit.

“What do you mean?” Zane asked.

Kai took another deep breath and went to one knee.

“Zane, will you marry me?” Kai asked as he pulled out the ring.

Zane’s frown turned into the biggest smile.

“Yes,” Zane said. “I will.”

Kai was shocked.

“Y-You really mean it-mmf!”

Kai was interrupted when Zane kissed Kai on the lips. He kissed back.

End of Snippet 4:

I am going to write how the wedding went, but right now I don’t have much of an idea. (Sorry).

So, Kai and Zane got married. They went around the Never-Realm, interacting with the villages, talking to the formlings, and living peacefully. The years went by, Kai and Zane got older. Both have changed in a good way. Zane and Kai got therapy to help them get through their past lives. Kai became more relaxed and opened about his problems. Zane learned to except himself and to take make sure to take care of himself.

The two have been in the Never-Realm for thirty years. Kai is 49 and Zane about 46ish (Zane’s age is confusing).

While it’s been three decades there, it’s been three days in Ninjago. So the ninjas did the whole shabang in that episode they get ready to go to the Never-Realm. They make it to the Never-Realm, meet up with Akita and Kataru. The ninjas said they were looking for two friends, and the two formlings said that the Winter and Summer Emperors would be able to help them.

So the group traveled to the Palace to meet the Winter and Summer Emperor.

Snippet 5:

“So, the Winter Emperor and Summer Emperor can really help us?” Lloyd asked as they entered the palace.

“Of course!” Akita said. “They’re most helpful people in here. But don’t be afraid when you see the Winter Emperor. He looks more different than everyone else.”

The ninjas looked at each other with worry. Soon, they heard voices. Familiar voices.

“That is dangerous.” One voice said.

“I’ve survived worse didn’t I?” Another asked.

“That doesn’t excuse you to do it.”

“But imagine!”

“I already did, and I didn’t like the results.”

“Winter Emperor!” Akita shouted. “Summer Emperor! We need your help finding two missing people!”

The Winter Emperor and Summer Emperor entered the room. A titanium robot dress in ice-theme robes, and a man dressed in fire-theme robe. Both were very familiar.

“Whose missing?” The Winter Emperor asked.

Akita and Kataru revealed the group of ninjas who were now shocked. Both emperors were surprised. 

“Kai?” Lloyd said. “Zane?”

The Summer Emperor smiled.

“Well, if we knew you were-”

Kai was interrupted when Lloyd ran and hugged Kai. He rest of the ninjas jumped on Zane and Kai hugging them. Akita and Kataru were confused.

End of Snippet 5:

So Kai and Zane explained that they have been in the Never-Realm for thirty years. Along with what happened during their time there. Kai and Zane were surprised that it’s only been three days in Ninjago. 

Lloyd asked if the two wanted to go back home. Kai and Zane did enjoy it in the Never-realm, but the missed home. So they went back to Ninjago, Kai and Zane giving the title of Emperor to someone else. Wu is surprised that Kai is now an adult, but he was happy that they were both back.

There was no discourse between Zane and Pixal since she knew Zane liked Kai more. I’m not making a drama show off of this.

But, now things are going to be different.

[sethelsayed]

⌈  RAMI MALEK  ,  37  ,  CIS MALE  ⌋  has anyone  seen  SETH ELSAYED  around  ?  i  don’t  think  they’re  part  of  the  madness  ,  all  i  know  is  that  HE  is  a  RECORD SHOP OWNER  from  SOHO , NEW YORK  .  they  seem  like  they  are  TACTLESS  &  WITHDRAWN  ,  but  they  might  be  NURTURING  &  SELFLESS  too  for  all  we  know  .  they  remind  me  of  hearing a snippet of a song you loved as a kid and forgot about only to remember when you realize what it is , phone calls at four in the morning to talk to a friend in need and staying up despite being tired , sleeves rolled up to the elbows while baking in the kitchen with cookies already in the oven , and nights feeling empty and alone , regretful of everything , only to put on a smile in the morning because those problems don’t matter ,  i  hope  that  doesn’t  change  soon  ! 

trigger warning: car accidents, self harm, suicide, death.

A Guide to Survivor’s Guilt:

Step One: Your story begins as a tragic one. As a child, there is a car accident in which your mother, your father, and your brother are killed. You are the only survivor. At six years of age, you know what it means when you see your parents bodies lifeless, unmoving, and your brother next to you, eyes staring blankly into nothingness. You are yourself unharmed, though your mind is a different monster. You understand but can’t even begin to wrap your head around the reality of your parents being gone. The only survivor of the accident, you pull away. 

Step Two: You’re taken in by your aunt and uncle, who have a daughter a few years older than you and a son a year younger. Everyone reassures you that it’s okay if you need to take time to heal and let the hurt fade but they aren’t prepared for how closed off you become. Before the accident, things with your family were great. You were always running around, playing tag with your brother and your cousins. There was always something on your mind, always something you wanted to talk about. But after, it was one word answers and staying in your room all day. 

Step Three: Growing up you learned what survivor’s guilt meant. And your mind, always racing despite having nothing you wanted to say, had quickly found a way to blame yourself for the accident. If you hadn’t distracted your parents ... if you and your brother hadn’t gotten into an argument that seemed so stupid now, things might be different. The therapist you see every week tells you that dwelling on things you can’t change is detrimental and won’t help bring them back. You understand that. But you don’t know how to make yourself stop. 

Step Four: You start to get better at faking emotions with your aunt and uncle and your cousins. It’s never as exuberant as it was before, but no one expects that of you. It’s exhausting, pretending to care and pretending to be human with feelings when you’ve been numb for the last five years but it makes them happy. And really, shouldn’t someone in that house be? The therapist says that even faking happiness will eventually lead you to happiness, that one day you’ll realize you’re not faking it anymore. You decide that you don’t want to speak to her anymore during your sessions. 

Step Five:  It’s easy to make grades when you spend all day holed up in your room. What else do you have to show for it aside from self harm scars on your wrists? Both of your parents were teachers, a good education was important to them and if you did anything less, they’d be disappointed in you. Your heart wouldn’t be able to take that, not when you’re already barely keeping your head above water. So you get straight As every year, even graduate from high school early. And from there, you’re accepted for a summer program in England that you accept. If only to get away from how much history you have in the city. 

Step Six: The program turns out to be the best thing to happen to you in the last eleven years. Away from the memories of the accident, from therapy every week, from your family walking on eggshells around you, you’re able to finally try some of that faked happiness your therapist was talking about. It doesn’t convince anyone, least of all yourself, but you meet a girl at a pub and hit it off. Spending the next four years overseas is easy and the romance is whirlwind and when you return home to the states, you have a wife you’re obsessed with and she brings you closer to happiness than you’ve had since you were six. A small voice in the back of your mind reminds you that jumping from one thing to the next to avoid truly trying to heal isn’t healthy but you drown that voice out with alcohol. 

Step Seven: It’s rough going for a few years. Your degrees don’t offer you very steady or lucrative work so money is tight but you and your wife have a little apartment above a bar. It’s loud and smells like alcohol most of the time but you and your wife bake cookies and make the place smell like baked goods and play music to drown out the loudness of the bar. You dance in the kitchen every night and make breakfast every morning and eight years pass by in the blink of an eye.

Step Eight: The two of you own a record shop. Nobody buys records anymore, she had pointed out one day, while you got the shop ready. You tell her that the ship on not owning a record store has sailed and the grin on her face tells you she was just messing around with you. This had been her goal as much as it had been yourself. You still have trouble processing other people joking with you, despite being thirty. A small part of you wonders if you should start going back to therapy but your wife puts on a record and Phil Collins’ You’ll Be In My Heart starts playing through the speakers of the record player. She points out that it was composed as a lullaby for his daughter and looks at you expectantly and it clicks. She’s pregnant. You’re ecstatic. 

Step Nine: The three of you, father, mother, daughter, live in perfect harmony for only five years. Your wife and your daughter fly back to England to visit her parents two days before Christmas, like they do every year and you, like every year, are going to catch a late flight after you close on Christmas Eve and get to the house on Christmas morning to spend it with your family and your in-laws. That doesn’t happen. Their plane goes down somewhere over the Atlantic and you hear about it on the news. The flight number and Atlantic and unknown if any survivors flash around your head. It’s the same thing all over again except you never learned how to cope. This loss is more crushing, you feel like you can’t breathe. For three months, you wait to hear news, hopeful, so fucking hopeful, but the news never comes. On March 23, you swallow a handful of pills with the intent of seeing your wife and daughter again. Death has been coming for you since you were a child, it’s only fair that you give in and maybe it’ll stop taking the people you care about. On March 31, you wake up in the hospital. Death doesn’t want you. 

Step Ten: The record shop is full of ghosts. The vinyl your wife played has never been sold but you haven’t touched in in two years. You spend all of your time there as a distraction. You can’t escape death but when you try, it spits you back out. This is just another thing you blame yourself for. There is no therapy, there’s no contact with your aunt and uncle and cousins or you in-laws. Instead you sit in the shop, putting on a happy face and wishing that it had been you instead. You count down the days until you see them again.

[astaralys]

*watches Frozen 2*

*RESURRECTS*

I started this blog when I wrote my first Frozen fanfic, The Sky Is Awake. It’s been five years. FIVE. YEARS.

I need more snow sisters. And I need answers and closure but I ain’t got a pretty water horse to ferry me to Ahtohallan to find them, so I started writing my own ‘Frozen 3′ fanfic. I humbly and sleep-deprivedly (it’s a word okay Anna invented it for Elsa) present the first chapter of a new multichapter story that I may soon regret starting because it’s already consuming my life with “AND THEN WE HAVE TO MAKE THIS BADASS THING HAPPEN” epiphanies.

Which kind of explains why the first chapter is, like, 7000 words. I’m sorry.

Here’s a snippet from my favourite scene (it’s not really a snippet. it’s the whole scene. I love them together. I love them together with chocolate). 

-

The Next Unknown

Summary: Some things never change; after Ahtohallan, though, quite a lot did. Now Anna and Elsa somehow need to find their own paths without losing sight of each other. But the world won't wait, and when more trouble washes up on Arendelle's shores, the sisters learn that sometimes you can't do the next right thing without the courage to confront what last went wrong. A post-Frozen 2 story.

[this scene comes from the middle of chapter 1 but now that I look at it, it’s practically a oneshot on its own??]

Elsa didn't need to knock because the doors were wide open

Technically speaking, there was no physical room for the doors to close at all. The floor of the study was littered with books and papers in precarious stacks, tracing a haphazard maze towards the desk, which was by contrast, unexpectedly uncluttered—except for the queen of Arendelle sprawled across it on her back, reading a missive held above her head, her bare feet tapping a gentle rhythm against the side of the desk. The same rhythm that had stubbornly rained down on Elsa's door for thirteen years.

Elsa stood at the doorway for a moment, soaking in the sight of her sister being both Anna and the queen at the same time. And something unclenched inside her, just a little, while something else tightened in its place. If only Father and Mother could see Anna now.

"It must take all of Kai's self-control not to come in and tidy this."

Anna's head turned, the candlelight illuminating the joy in her eyes at the sight of Elsa picking her way across the room. "Oh, he tries. But then I tell him, 'If I can't find last year's shipment records where I left it next to the window with my pet rock on top, I won't be the one explaining to Elsa why we can't import the nice chocolate from Switzerland.' Works like a charm. Am I late for charades?"

"Not yet. Olaf is still going around asking the staff to write more words. Also, please stop terrorising the kingdom in my name."

Anna scoffed and raised a finger to make a point. Then stopped to sniff the air. She shot upright. "Is that hot cocoa?!"

Elsa held the mug out of reach. "It looks to me like our chocolate imports are faring quite well indeed," she teased.

"Looks to me like I'm the one being terrorised." Anna's give me motions intensified.

Smiling, Elsa gestured for the missive that had fallen into her sister's lap. "I'll trade you."

"Be my guest; it concerns you more than me anyway." Anna all but poured the beverage down her throat. "Ack! Hot hot hot!"

Sighing in fond exasperation, Elsa reached over and wrapped a hand around the mug to cool it. Then she leaned back against the desk beside Anna's crossed legs and skim read the letter, though the familiar crest of arms on the top made it easy for her to predict its contents.

She grimaced.

Anna nudged her, mirth swimming in her voice. "Well? Should I write back to Lord Nilsen and let him know it would be my honour to have his son as my brother-in-law?"

"Lord Nilsen's son could easily have been my brother-in-law. I received his proposals for your hand year after year."

"Too bad, already spoken for. You, on the other hand, are not. Are you sure you don't want to give what's-his-name a chance? I hear he's quite a looker!"

"He is." Elsa refolded the parchment along its creases. "We met him two years ago, do you remember? He attended Buferdsdagen with his father."

"Really?"

"You played hide-and-seek with him."

"… I what?"

Elsa handed the letter back to her sister, trying not to laugh. "If I remember correctly, Tobias Nilsen just turned twelve years old."

Anna blinked. Then she dissolved into snorts and giggles. "Twelve!" she gasped. "That's worse than the old baron who wanted to make me his third wife!"

"Fifth wife," Elsa corrected mildly, as she rescued the hot cocoa.

"Twelve!" Anna screeched again, collapsing over Elsa. "Everyone wants their own snow queen," she giggled, wiping her eyes. "Well, they can't have her. She's all mine." Her tone descended into suspicion. "... Unless she's interested in someone?"

"She is not," Elsa replied smoothly.

"Ryder?" Anna took one look at her expression and moved on. "Yeah, can't see that happening either. Honeymaren? Because you know I'd be totally cool with that—which is not to say that you need my approval to be interested in anyone… well. Maybe. Actually, yes. Let me at 'em."

"Anna." Hiding a smile, Elsa tugged on a pigtail. "I'm not interested in anyone, or in anything more than what I already have. I am spoken for. I have a sister I love more than anything, even if she is at times unbearably nosy."

"Nonsense. You love my nose." Anna rested her cheek atop Elsa's head. "But you'll tell me if that changes?"

"My sentiments on your nose?"

"You know what I mean!"

Don't I tell you everything? It was there on the tip of her tongue. It was so easy to say.

Until another voice stole over hers. But you didn't. You haven't.

I won't. I can't.

Tell her you're making her a scarf. Tell her why. Tell her that you know.

Hiding her clenched fists in the folds of her dress, Elsa heard herself say, "Who else would I tell, silly?"

Maybe if Anna hadn't yawned at that moment, she would have noticed something. But she only rubbed her eyes and said, "I don't know, sis—the way you've been starting to smell like reindeer, it's only a matter of time before you start talking to them like Kristoff."

"You're incurable." Elsa's voice softened. "Tired?"

"Nope. Maybe. Kinda. But I'll not be called a workaholic by you of all people. See, I know how to delegate. This is all I have left for today!" Anna made a grand sweeping gesture at the modest stack of missives on her desk. "Which reminds me: I need your advice on a few things… well, alright, a whole mountain's worth of things. But we can go over it later. How long are you staying this time?"

It was her effortlessly light-hearted tone that gave her away. On any other person, it could have been a question about the weather. Only Anna was neutral about exactly nothing, especially when it came to Elsa. And Elsa had to bite back the urge to say 'As long as you need me to' because Anna, of all people, had managed not to ask 'Can you stay?'

They were both dreadful liars. But Anna she was getting very good at being queen.

Elsa set aside Lord Nilsen's letter and straightened, habitually steadying Anna before she could tumble off. Then she turned around and raised a hand to her sister's face, gently brushing away a curl. Anna's curious stare melted into a contented smile as she pressed her cheek against Elsa's hand. "What's up?" she asked, her eyes crinkling with faint mischief.

There you are.

Elsa shook her head slightly and smiled back. "I will be around long enough that we can postpone games night until tomorrow."

"What about the tomorrow after that? And tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow?"

"Yes, Anna."

Now Anna's expression was radiant. "And Olaf's birthday?"

"I'm always there for Olaf's birthday."

"But you'll be around until then?"

Elsa cupped Anna's face in both her hands and leaned in so their foreheads touched. "Yes. I'll be here."

"Okay," her little sister whispered, her hands pressing over Elsa's.

A moment of stillness cocooned them. Elsa could not freeze this moment, either.

Then Anna jerked up and cracked her nose into Elsa's brow. "Wait—why are we postponing games night?"

The rest is on ff.net here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13467233/1/The-Next-Unknown. Thanks for reading!

[remoonusarchive]

a thing called love;

Most men are like me, they struggle and doubt They trouble their minds day in and day out Too busy with living to worry about A little word like love But when I see a mother's tenderness As she holds her young close to her breast Then I thank God that the world's been blessed With a thing called love

Summary: Snippets from each summer between Hogwarts years, exploring Remus’ muggle education and relationship with his parents. Self-para; closed

1972

Only his dad was there to meet him off the Hogwarts Express. Remus wasn’t surprised but it meant he didn’t want to take too much time saying goodbye to his friends because Lyall had always been more wary than Hope over Remus having close friends. He settled for a smile and wave to each James, Sirius and Pete before he took Lyall’s proffered arm and was take side-along apparition with a crack. He hadn’t made an effort to befriend anybody else that first year.

They apparated straight into their back garden where Hope was lounging in a garden chair, a cigarette between her fingers. Music Remus didn’t recognise drifted out through the open kitchen window. It must be a new album.

“Remus bach, cariad! How was it? Tell me all.”

And he did. As he talked, the Welsh accent that had mostly faded over the course of the year came back in strength and his eyes lit up as he described each of his classes. Lyall went inside with a mutter about it being cold, but Remus barely noticed. It was his mam he wanted to tell about Hogwarts.

“And you have friends?” Hope asked, taking out another cigarette.

“I do,” Remus said his eyes distractedly fixed on the spent cigarette butts in the ash tray. “Mam, can I try one now?”

“Remus, we’ve talked about this before. When you’re older.”

“I’m fourteen, I am. I’ve seen pictures of you smoking at fourteen.”

“Oh, that’s true, like.”

“Hope!” Lyall’s sharp reproach came from the kitchen.

“I mean, what the fuck, Remus, you’re fourteen, of course you can’t have a cigarette,” Hope said.

“Hope.”

This time, Hope frowned and lowered her voice so her husband wouldn’t hear from in the house. “What did I do?”

“You said fuck,” Remus told her, “but it’s okay, that just made me look cooler at school.”

“You’re cool anyway, fy machgen i. So your friends?”

“Yeah! James and Sirius and Peter. I share a dorm with them. We share with another boy, Gideon, but I didn’t talk to him as much, I guess. I just tagged on with the other three, really.” Or maybe ‘was dragged along with’ would be a more representative phrasing.

“And… do they know…?”

“No.” Remus shook his head vehemently and didn’t offer up the fact that sometimes he worried that they were suspicious of where he went each month.

Hope sat back in clear relief. “Well how about you take that trunk of yours upstairs and unpack. You can relax the rest of this week and we’ll start lessons on Monday.”

“Lessons?”

“Just because you’ve gone to Hogwarts, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t study for O Levels. I want you to have all the chances you can when you leave school and that might be easier in the Muggle world.”

Remus nodded. It made sense, and he supposed that it wasn’t like they were going on holiday like so many of his classmates. At least school would pass the time.

1973

She had caved this year. They were in the garden, smoking and studying an Atlas. It was all official, now: Remus was registered as a home-schooled student who would take his O Levels in the summer of ‘74, as soon as he returned from Hogwarts. He would be taking English, Welsh, Maths, Science, Latin and Geography and a CSE in Art. Not History, as he sometimes confused what the muggles knew about and what they didn’t and not any other subjects as they didn’t have the time to go in enough depth.

“Was it really okay?” Hope asked.

Remus looked up from his work. He had thought they weren’t going to talk about it but perhaps Hope had just been waiting until Lyall was at work. He took a drag before he replied, “It really was. They were great. I told you they worked it out, but they didn’t go and tell anybody else. Well, except talking to each other about it, I guess, but nobody else. They promised they wouldn’t tell anyone else. And then when they told me they just said I was still their friend and it was fine. Nothing really changed. Except that they were coming and visiting me in the Hospital Wing more the morning after and taking notes for me in classes I missed. They were really great.”

“I’m so happy you’ve got good friends, fy machgen i.”

Remus beamed. His dad hadn’t seemed so happy that James, Sirius and Pete had found out about his lycanthropy. Lyall worried so much. “Me too.”

1974

“Who are you?”

Remus blinked at the student in his impeccable muggle uniform. He tugged on his second-hand jumper self-consciously. “I’m home-schooled, I am. I’m just here to sit my exams.”

“Was that your mam?” The boy craned his head to look at Hope’s retreating figure. Remus nodded, feeling a little uncomfortable. He didn’t often go out in public with her. Lyall always took him to and from Kings Cross and otherwise he didn’t really ever leave home during the summer. He knew she turned heads, with her long wavy hair and her thin frame, that constant cigarette between her fingers and dark red lips. Remus loved his mam. He loved how she laughed herself into a coughing fit whenever he told her what he and his friends got up to at school. He loved how she had bought him his own lighter, in Gryffindor colours. He loved that she couldn’t bear to be in a room with a record player that wasn’t playing. She was the embodiment of a cool parent, but he had been used to not having to share her with anybody except his dad and he didn’t like the look in the boy’s eyes. “I’m Remus,” he said, holding out a hand.

“Weird name,” the boy said. “David.”

“How Welsh,” Remus replied as David shook his hand. “Are you taking O Level Maths today, too?”

*

He finished the exam early. It was pretty easy compared to the year of Arithmancy he had done and he was even allowed a calculator. In the time while he waited for everybody else to finish, he started writing some letters.

James,

Muggle exams are so boring. There’s so much writing and all the desks are creaky and this bloke keeps walking past me with squeaky shoes. I prefer the practical exams we get in some of our subjects at Hogwarts. Wouldn’t it have been cool this year if our DADA exam had been more of an obstacle course of all the dark creatures we studied (except for werewolves and vampires of course) instead of just demonstrating the spells without the actual creature there. Prof really missed a trick there. I’m glad it won’t be him next year. Summer’s boring already and it’s only been a week. Can’t wait until September. Have a great holiday.

Remus

P.S. When would be a good time to go to Diagon Alley?

Sirius,

We’ve come to this school in Swansea today so I can do my muggle exams (I know, I know, school during the summer, but it wasn’t my choice, I solemnly swear!) and there was someone on a motorcycle who looked just like you. You’re definitely still in London, right? I’d be surprised if you’d managed to learn how to ride a motorcycle and get to Swansea but seriously I’m still half-convinced it was you. Hope your parents aren’t being too shite this summer. I’d say you can escape to mine if you want, but my dad’s still being weird about the fact that you know about my furry little problem as if it hasn’t been NEARLY TWO YEARS now. I swear he doesn’t care this much about Pete knowing; it’s ridiculous. Anyway, we’ll have to try and coordinate Diagon Alley this year and sneak you away from your family for a bit.

Remus

Pete,

I need all the details of your holiday so I can live vicariously through you. I’ll repay you in chocolate. When do you get back? I know not for ages and we won’t get our letters for even longer but I want to try and coordinate a Diagon Alley trip with the others and I have nothing else to look forward to before September.

Remus

1975

If Remus had been born ten years earlier, he would be a legal adult now. Instead, he was still stuck at home, unable to apparate, unable to do any magic outside of school, and studying A Level material for English, Geography and Maths. Hope’s cough had become as constant as Lou Reed’s new album in the background and Remus had noticed that sometimes she pressed her hand to her chest as if it hurt but they still smoked together and she didn’t blink when he admitted to using weed before a full moon to help with the pain. She went out, supposedly to buy teabags, and came back with cannabis. Remus never asked where she got it. Neither of them told Lyall.

When he was alone, Remus buried himself in research about Animagi. Not the technicalities of how to become one — they were fairly confident on that by now even if it was going to be a long and difficult process — but attempting to work out if their assumptions were correct and that his friends would be safe around the wolf if they were successful.

He hoped the animals they turned into would be useful.

A part of him was jealous that he would never be able to join them in that particular quest but the idea of getting the wolf to put a mandrake leaf in its mouth and not swallow it was ludicrous.

1976

The July full moon was almost immediate after the end of fifth year so Remus had returned home and instantly gone to bed. He had spent the moon in the usual way in the basement but it felt so restrictive and more painful than before, perhaps because he could now compare it to the freedom and ease of transforming with his friends. With Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, Moony was able to run free in the forest and no longer took out his anger on himself. He was less angry, because he wasn’t contained.

He curled up on the sofa the next day, sipping on tea and watching Lyall read the Sunday Prophet.

“Werewolf attack at Cwm Rheidol,” Lyall said to Hope. Remus frowned and picked up an A Level Maths textbook that he knew he wouldn’t actually read. He couldn’t concentrate on the law of sines when his body ached from last night’s transformation and his parents were casually discussing werewolves in Wales and when his brain was still fried from OWLs and when the terror over what could have happened because of Sirius’ prank on Snape earlier in the year was still fresh in his mind.

“Was it him?” Hope asked.

Remus’s frown deepened.

“Doesn’t say, but probably. Child was seven. Parents are blood traitors.”

“Probably who?” Remus blurted. Both his parents turned to him, looking surprised that he was following their conversation. Even without his friends, recovery was quicker this summer. He could tell they didn’t want to answer him and he could only think of one reason why they wouldn’t, even though it didn’t line up with what they had led him to believe in the past.

Another young victim.

A reason for the attack.

“I thought it was just a random attack where I was bitten. It wasn’t, was it?”

“Remus, don’t be—” Lyall started in a tone of impatience.

“No, fy machgen,” Hope cut in. She looked so tired. “It wasn’t random.”

“Why me?”

Hope gave Lyall a significant look. Lyall sighed and set the newspaper to the side. “You were attacked by a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback…”

The story was hard to swallow. Remus listened as his father explained how he had come to his job in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Remus already knew Lyall had attempted to tighten protocol surrounding the Werewolf Registry in the past but he had not realised that his father had also overseen to trials of those suspected to be involved in werewolf attacks. His stomach turned when Lyall repeated the words that had angered Greyback.

“Not that I still think that, of course,” Lyall said, seeing the distress on Remus’s face, “but that was why he plotted to hurt you.”

Remus didn’t respond. His mind was whirring at ninety miles an hour. He thought of Lyall’s constant fear that Remus’s lycanthropy would be discovered. He thought of Hope’s secrecy when it came to asking about full moons at Hogwarts — she always waited until Lyall was at work and even the letters she sent during the year, she wrote in Welsh. He thought of how many times they had moved house in the past and how he was never allowed to stray too far from home, except for school. He even got the impression that Lyall didn’t think he should be taking muggle exams. Where Hope thought he might have a better chance of holding down a job in the muggle world, where nobody would ever suspect what he truly was, Lyall thought it was reckless and that Remus would be better to be hired by somebody who knew the whole story and could make accommodations. As if anybody would hire him.

Part of Remus wondered if his father really thought he would be better off without a job at all, and had simply said that so that Remus wouldn’t give up on school altogether.

He thought of his parents, obsessed for so long with finding a cure and keeping others safe from him. Maybe if Hope had known more of what she could have done to help him, she would have, just as she got him the weed and slipped cigarette boxes into the care packages she sent to Hogwarts. Lyall, though… Remus could only imagine how horrified his father would be if he knew that Remus’s best friends were illegal Animagi and that they actually helped. Lyall still looked scared and a little queasy whenever it came up that James, Sirius and Pete knew at all, however much Remus insisted that they accepted him regardless.

Sometimes, Remus wondered where he would be if Dumbledore had never turned up and offered him a place at Hogwarts. His childhood had been lonely and friendless and there had been no signs of change until that fateful day. Probably, his father had intended to keep him isolated and why should it matter if he was, in fact, dangerous and soulless.

“It’s to keep everyone safe,” Lyall had always told him when he was little and wanted to go and play with the children riding their bikes down the road. But there was no danger if it wasn’t a full moon and Remus was only just, at eighteen, realising how brainwashed he had been to have accepted the explanation without question.

“Remus?” Hope’s raspy voice brought him out of his reverie.

“A childhood like that really messes a person up, you know,” Remus told them. His eyes were wet, he noticed.

“I know,” Hope said. “It worries me that he’s back in Wales. Maybe we should think about moving again. Perhaps somewhere on the East coast.”

“Why does it matter? He can hardly do anything else to me.”

“He might try to recruit you to his pack. A lot of the werewolves are working for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, now.”

Remus automatically looked at his mam in time to see her stubbornly mouth ‘Voldemort’. She thought wizards were ridiculous for avoiding his name. “And you didn’t think I needed to know sooner? He could have tried to recruit me at any time, if he prefers to raise his pack himself. He’s not going to sit around and wait for me to turn nineteen.”

“It was because we love you. We were trying—”

Remus stood before he could hear another of his father’s excuses. “I’m going to have a bath.”

He was a little surprised to find it was Sirius he wanted to talk to the most. After the Snape incident, things had been a little tense even after he had decided to forgive and move on and allow Padfoot to join him for the next full moon. If anyone was going to understand how he felt, it would be Sirius. Remus wasn’t exaggerating when he said a childhood in fear and isolation messed a person up and Sirius, too, had suffered traumas in his past and an expectation that one day he would join the Dark side, just because of who he was. A Black and a werewolf. Both expected to be sorted into Slytherin. Both were relieved beyond words when they had ended up in Gryffindor instead. And both still bore the weight of their upbringing. Remus considered a new perspective on the incident last term. Sirius had made one mistake because he didn’t think, and he had been guilty and apologetic afterwards. Lyall, though older and more highly educated, had made a series of mistakes and continued to defend his decisions.

Remus knew who he could forgive more easily.

1977

If it weren’t for the Order and finally having his apparition licence, Remus wouldn’t know what to do with himself for the summer. For the first time since he was four years old, he had no lessons, no school, a real summer holiday, even if it was only a holiday off doing work and not a holiday that involved going anywhere interesting. They now lived in Essex but Remus spent much of the summer at the Potters’ or going to Order meetings. There wasn’t much in the way of assignments for those of them still in school but they could focus on practising magic that would help them and learning to cast corporeal Patronuses for communication.

Really, Remus was happy that he wasn’t being asked to do anything specific yet, because he knew by now that when he was asked, it would involve other werewolves. He wasn’t ready for that yet. He wasn’t ready to meet Greyback.

“I barely see you these days,” Hope said to him over lunch one day.

“Sorry, mam. I just want to spend time with my friends.”

Her eyes softened. “I know. I’m happy for you, I am. I just miss you as well.”

“Do you not want to go back to work?”

Hope didn’t reply straight away. Instead she was taken with a coughing fit that Remus waited to subside. “Remus bach, I’m not well enough.”

He blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not very well, fy machgen i.”

“It’s just a cough, isn’t it?”

There was pity in her eyes and Remus’s heart sunk. He should have seen it sooner. Perhaps a part of him already knew. After all, for a while he had felt bad whenever he told his classmates that he was visiting his sick mother during the full moon and instead had fallen back on excuses of his own health suffering, even though that felt more risky. “Mam…” All of a sudden he felt like a small, scared child. He could have been five years old again, asking why everything hurt; clinging onto his mam in St Mungo’s while a specialised Healer talked to them in whispers.

“I’ll be fine, bach. I’m just too tired to work. Don’t worry about me.”

“Is it my fault? Is it stress?”

“Your dad says it’s because I smoke,” Hope told him, but the way she hesitated and the hint of worry in her eyes convinced Remus that stress did play a part. “I told him I’m just allergic to the stick up his arse.”

Remus’s lips quirked but he couldn’t quite bring himself to laugh. “I’m sorry, mam.”

“No. Remus, no. It’s not your fault. And I’m fine. I’m still going to watch you grow old, I am. Not that it’ll be long! Only one year left of Hogwarts! Look at you, all grown up.”

“Mam,” Remus protested, his cheeks colouring and his worries temporarily dissipating. She laughed and changed the album on the record player. She poured them both a glass of whiskey with a wink and Remus leaned back to listen as that same 1972 Johnny Cash album that had greeted him from school after first year filled the room.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Reconnected (Becoming Human spinoff)

Request: #172 for anon – “Don’t I know you?”

Anonymous said:

#172 with Taekwoon for your drabble game please.

Pairing: Jung Taekwoon x OC (Choi Yerin)

World: Becoming Human

Genre: robot au / angst / romance

A/N: I was considering a return to Becoming Human recently, and was thinking of what Leo would have felt during the latter parts of this story. It just so happened I had a drabble request with a very connecting prompt, so I knew I had to bring this idea to life. Anon, I hope you don’t mind that this isn’t reader insert!

To understand this spin-off story, you will need to have read Becoming Human first. You can find the masterlist to the story HERE.

Word count: 2224

Leo stared at her silently, his gaze boring into her eyes, searching for answers. Whatever came up in his system didn’t quite seem to make sense and he pushed harder, demanding the files to appear faster the longer she held his gaze.

She felt so familiar and yet he held little information on her.

The basics appeared in his view, displaying her name, age, and position within the company. He knew he had suffered a malfunction recently, the doctors had explained everything to him.

Everything except who Choi Yerin was to him.

When the laboratory went quiet each night, he would lay down on the bed he had been supplied in his makeshift room, staring up at the ceiling and attempting to figure out who she was to him. Yerin’s smiles felt as if they once held much more life within them, as if she had once smiled for him. And the pain that was embedded deep within her gaze was the main reason Leo avidly searched for the truth.

Since no one was really giving it.

“Don’t I know you?” he asked one afternoon and Yerin stopped what she was doing, blinking slowly before turning to face him. He could see it clearly on her face, the hope that had built with this line. Why was she suddenly hopeful? Did she mean more than a simple call-centre employee for this robot facility? She stood, brushing a hand mindlessly through her wild locks, and Leo yearned to reach out to touch the coils of hair himself. He balled his hand up instead, hiding the desire behind his back.

“You once did,” she mentioned, calculated. The emotions of humans when they deliberately withheld information seemed confusing to Leo. Why couldn’t Yerin just admit what she knew? It would definitely decrease the misuse of time.

Yet wasting time with Leo seemed to be Yerin’s forte. She would appear precisely each night after her shift was over, sitting in his room, discussing anything except what he wanted to know.

Who she was still remained a mystery. One, no matter how hard Leo tried, he couldn’t solve. He had deemed the emotion he felt quite often in her company as irony, the definition suiting this situation well. Yerin was here to seek out his remembrance of her, that much Leo had confirmed. Yet not once was she able to give him any clues as to why he should know her. The explanation of once being friends held very little conviction. He had read her emotions intently, and his database of each of them contradicted with the meaning of friendship.

There was more that no one wished to tell.

Leo felt the urge to break free from the shackles humans had placed on him. As a robot that understood the complexity of emotions, he was frustrated by the lack of trust everyone gave him to handle the truth. The doctors were still fascinated by him, his fellow robot friends looked up to him as someone unique. He had deciphered that whilst his superiority was to feel his own set of emotions, he didn’t believe he was some amazing gift to mankind.

Not when he was this troubled by the existence of a certain human.

That frustration grew into resentment. Leo started to dislike the time he spent with Yerin, her avoidance and his inability to seek answers from her only darkening his mood with each passing day. He needed her to stop, to step back and allow him to figure out what he was functioning for. He had spent too many nights thinking of her that now he was unable to consider who he was without her at his side. He knew Kboy robots had masters, his best friend Kang Daniel was owned by Yerin’s boss. There was no distinct ownership inserted into his data, and even the head scientist had confirmed he was the first robot of his kind to exist independently without having one.

Leo decided that it was best Yerin learned to function without him too.

He wanted to say it was easier. In some cases, without the distraction of Yerin in his day, Leo was further capable of completing the tasks set out for him. The growth of the newly improved Kboy system meant he was busier than ever, testing the boundaries of what artificial intelligence meant to modern society. Leo was the face of new thought within sentient beings and his work level increased, as did his accomplishments. He was regarded highly by humans and robots alike.

However, he wasn’t satisfied.

The dreams that had started when still in contact with Yerin grew more vivid. He envisioned fields of wildflowers and endless laughter in between. It didn’t help that the phone he carried around housed images of just that. Leo had once concluded he had created scenarios based on the photos he had analysed, each pixel on the screen transferred to his memory chip as stills. Yet when he closed his eyes, they began to play like a film clip, confusing him of their location, their time period. Even when he learned that this was the art of dreaming, it still made little sense to him.

Why was Yerin still mixed within everything?

“You did amazing today.” Leo glanced up to the scientist that had travelled at his side to Paris, Gunhee smiling at him. “I think we might just get that funding we came here searching for.”

“Searching is a word we use when we’re looking for something. Are we looking for money?”

Gunhee chuckled. “It’s a phrase; it means we came here with ulterior motives I suppose.”

Leo nodded, registering the phrase in the file he had dedicated for Gunhee and his endless preferences in how he spoke. He then smiled himself; humans never worded themselves as straight-forward as they should.

“That reminds me,” Gunhee started and Leo grew aware to the minute change in the scientist’s tone, posture and gaze. He watched as the tall man directed his focus to the wall, instead of at him. “Have you still been searching?”

“For?”

“Yerin.”

Leo froze at the name, the whizzing of his system halting momentarily being the only thing he could register in that moment. When the gears of his mind paused with the image of Yerin’s latest social media post, Leo blinked rapidly, forcing everything to accelerate forward.

“I concluded my search on her months ago, hyung.”

Gunhee nodded in thought, and Leo picked up that the man didn’t seem to accept his answer. Deep down, nor did Leo. The puzzle remained unsolved.

“I better get back to restoring these backup files on my software,” Gunhee announced, picking up his laptop and taking it over to the desk. Leo moved with him, redirecting the device to face him and began looking within the hard drive for what the scientist had mentioned. Within five minutes, he had restored the missing content. Gunhee was impressed. “How did you do that?!”

“You had hidden the file yourself, don’t you remember? Perhaps you stored it there for a time when it would become important to you.”

Leo watched the flush of embarrassment appear on Gunhee’s face, soon halted by another emotion. He deciphered it instantly as recognition. Gunhee turned to Leo sharply. “Do you know what you put on your memory chip?”

“Of course, I have files backed up into the software at the office.”

Gunhee shook his head, dismissing his answer, his round eyes boring into his impatiently. “No, the one you asked me to create for you. Your backup. Before your memory was erased, you asked for a second chip to be installed. Can you access it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking of,” Leo announced after an initial scan of his inner mind. His head hurt and he grasped it with a groan, the scientist letting out a noisy gasp.

“Don’t strain yourself! Doctor Jung will kill me if I break you again.”

“You broke me?”

Gunhee laughed awkwardly. “It’s a long story.”

“One that I will ask of you tomorrow,” Leo decided, heading into the bedroom he had been assigned in the hotel suite and sitting down heavily.

What memory chip was this? He had no recollection of any data outside of what he already stored. As he systematically scanned each driver within his mind, Leo paused when he found and unformatted chip. Had he never assessed himself as in-depth as just now? Or was it really Gunhee’s recognition that prompted this chip to reappear? He set about unlocking it, wondering what it contained.

The answer was overwhelming. The rush of information knocked him back flat on the bed, and a sharp inhale was made to steady his system as it whirled with the content flooding it. He saw snippets of moments all pile on top of the other, tears, happiness, connection, and further understanding.

All connected to Choi Yerin.

He laughed when the last recorded memory played, Leo slowing it down to focus on it.

“Why do you want the chip?” Gunhee asked, holding the tiny device up within a pair of tweezers. “You have ample memory storage as it is.”

“I want to protect what is most precious to me. Lately my head has been aching and I don’t want to risk losing any of it.”

Gunhee smirked. “Yerin means that much to you, huh?”

“Without Yerin, there would be no need for me to exist.”

Yerin always snored when she slept. Although Leo knew there were cures for the sleeping habit, he had never expected such a sound to be as comforting as it was right now. He propped his elbow to hold his head up so he could watch the woman beside him sleep. Smiling, his system recorded every feature on her face for the fifteenth time this evening. Now that he had the love of his existence back, he didn’t want to risk forgetting what she looked like this close ever again. Leo made a point of storing the recording in several places, just to make sure. It was extra effort, but for now, he wasn’t prepared to make the same mistake twice.

As the night wore on, Leo repeated this simple action over and over, ensuring that the way the morning light infiltrating the bedroom hit her face in a new way for him to register. He was certain he would never grow sick of staring at Yerin.

Though he was definitely starting to feel low in battery from not using the bed to charge in like she had.

Yerin began to stir from her dreams and Leo smiled in anticipation. He made no attempt to hurry the process along. He had to record all of this too.

When her eyes opened, she let out a soft groan. “Did you not sleep?”

“I was busy.”

“You have the rest of my life to make sure you memorise everything about me, couldn’t you take the time to sleep when I did?” she chastised, though he could tell when she reached to cup his cheek within her hand that she was touched by the gesture.

In fact, Yerin’s body temperature indicated she was generally very content right now. He remembered just how much he loved the contradiction of her statements to her body language and grinned.

“Will that be another rule to make?” Leo wondered, referring back to the conversation they had yesterday over their reunion. He relished the instant flashback to the first time she had mentioned the word house rules to him. He had been in this bed with her and the memory continued to flow through the recording, a chuckle leaving him when he heard himself address Yerin’s wild hair.

Yerin raised an eyebrow. “You’re recollecting.”

“I’m enjoying myself.”

“Including my messy hair?”

Leo grinned once more. “How did you know?”

“I think you forget that I have those same memories you finally have access to as well.”

Leo pulled her into his arms, nuzzling in deeply. “Not as clearly as I do.”

“So maybe I should make you record it onto some discs so we can watch over our love story together some day.”

“That actually sounds like a good idea.”

“Leo!” Yerin cried, shaking her head as he reached to settle some of the wild mess of her hair in the process. “You can’t do that. I don’t ever want to know how you have recorded me.”

“Really? My sources show most females in a relationship like to know distinctively what their partner thinks of them,” he told her, matter-of-fact, and Yerin sat up, still shaking her head. He whined, her body was now too far away from his and he liked her warmth far too much.

“Maybe having you back in my life will be too much of a burden.”

“Not what you were screaming out last night,” he quipped and she gasped, heat flooding her cheeks. Chuckling, Leo placed a couple of kisses on her bare arm before glancing back up at her. “You already know how I view you, don’t you?”

The ghost of a smile that crossed her lips confirmed that she did. But Leo knew Yerin liked to be told it out loud too. She was expectant for his next sentence and so he sat up, smiling at her before he uttered it.

“I chose you.”

_________________

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[rougespecial-blog]

sweetheart hand // brian may

summary: in 1976, queen celebrate the release of their album a day at the races, which will cement their rise to fame (or notoriety). as it stands, though, you’re an artist who’s never heard of them, dragged along to the launch party by a friend.

a/n: really no warnings for this, some adult themes if you squint. title from tie your mother down. inspired by hearing brian talk about the excitement and excess of the day at the races era, when the boys finally had a bit of money. feedback is nice requests are open etc etc

you’ve barely stepped over the hotel’s threshold when a man in a glittering silver jacket - shoulders wide enough that doorways are giving him trouble - brushes past you. you’ve felt underdressed before, but this borders on ridiculous. three more men are trailing after him, wearing exactly the same thing. one of them holds out a tray towards you and you realise with a slight feeling of dismay that you look more like house staff than the actual waiters. you take a champagne coupe from him, admiring your mysterious host’s taste in glassware if nothing else.

it’s a miracle that you’re here, even plainly dressed in your jeans and white blouse.  you rolled your eyes, initially, when your friend tom called and asked you to be his date to an album release party. he mentioned names you’d never heard - one that had to be made up -  and insisted that this was a once in a lifetime event, that you would forever live in agonising regret if you didn’t go. you told him that you’ve both had your fair share of outrageous parties, thanks very much, that the london art scene isn’t particularly starved for big personalities or expensive vices.

‘i’m telling you - they’re about to explode. this album will be massive. you’ll tell your grandchildren you were at this party. besides, the lead singer - that’s this mercury fellow -  he’s really a stunning entertainer.’

‘i’ve never even heard of them, tom.’

‘well, that doesn’t say much. you’re a philistine when it comes to these things. please leave the canvases alone for a night. they’ll still be there in the morning.’

you pause, biting the inside of your cheek. ‘you’re paying for the cab.’

‘always, dear. and i’ll pay it twice if you don’t have a good night.’

so, here you are, champagne in hand and tom at your side, jostled by the most colourful variety of people you’ve ever seen. his eyeshadow and latex belt - you had laughed hysterically at him in the taxi - don’t seem so ridiculous now.

tom dutifully stays by your side for all of fifteen minutes. he’s much better at these things than you’ve ever been, rubbing shoulders and drawing people naturally in with his never-ending compliments. and the guests - you see a few artists you recognise from galleries, but even they seem different, less inhibited, in this space. a gramophone in the corner blares a classical overture that people are somehow managing to dance along with. you need another drink, badly. when you turn to tell tom this, he’s already disappeared into the fray.

as you wind through the venue looking for more drinks, you overhear snippets of conversation. people gush about the band, the frontman, the party itself. horrifyingly, you hear more than one person comment about how there just wasn’t enough money left over from the band’s last release to make this a really smashing one. you can’t imagine what they’d have this place looking like with a bigger budget.

by the time you stumble through a door that leads to an empty staff kitchen, you’ve just about had it. with the excess, the gratuity. you know you weren’t exactly choosing an austere or subdued lifestyle in modern art, but the cock-first showiness of these rock ’n’ roll types is really starting to get up your nose. mercifully, the first fridge you open still has a few bottles of champagne in it.

it’s just as you pop the cork, the bottle wedged under your arm and foam starting to run out over your fingers, that the door swings open and someone catches you red-handed. it’s not one of the silver-suited waiters - in fact, he might be the most ordinarily-dressed person here, after you. he’s a tall, lanky thing in jeans and a black shirt. if it weren’t for the mess of brown curls reaching his shoulders, you wouldn’t blink at him in the street.

‘that’s your personal bottle, i suppose?’

you blink at the champagne in your hand, then back to him. you have no idea how serious he’s being. ‘i was sent for,’ you answer coolly.

‘ah,’ he says, with a nod that’s too close to sarcasm for you. ‘by?’

you manage not to roll your eyes, though it’s close. you have no idea who this guy thinks he’s impressing as the personal arbiter of Who’s Allowed to Nick Champagne. ‘the band,’ you lie smoothly, turning away from him to refill your glass. ‘i’m a friend of the guitarist.’

you hear him laugh lightly as he steps all the way into the kitchen and closes the door behind him, reducing the din of the party to a distant hum. ‘well, if it’s on the band,’ he says, ‘can i have a glass?’

this is an improvement. you fetch another crystal glass from an overhead cupboard and fill it to the brim, turning around and handing it to him. he’s leaning back against the counter opposite, giving you a chance to appraise him better as he takes a sip of the champagne. you realise his shirt is fashionably just-too-small, with a wide collar that skirts around his collarbones and the hem resting tightly against his hips.

‘so,’ he says - and you remember yourself, looking very decidedly at his face, not his hips - ‘if you know the band, what are they like?’

you pause, trying to scrutinise his expression. he could be sincere, or he could be anyone - a journalist, a friend of the band playing a trick. to hell with it.

‘you want me to be honest?’

he grins at you, laughter swimming in his dark eyes. ‘please,’ he says. ‘brutally honest.’

‘i think they’re a bunch of tossers, really. just look at the state of this party. it’s fucking excessive. these rockstars - they always want everyone to know how much they have, all the time. i find it exhausting.’

something you said seems to have pleased him enormously, and he raises his glass to you, grinning. ‘you know what - i’ve heard the exact same thing.’

‘so how did you end up here tonight, then?’

‘friend of a friend,’ he shrugs, tracing his fingertip around the rim of his glass.

‘and what do you do? you’re not in the industry, are you?’

he’s silent for a second - he seems reticent to tell you, and you wonder for a moment if he is in the industry you’ve just trashed. but then he clears his throat and smiles softly. ‘i’m a teacher, actually. a maths teacher in brixton.’

you feel your jaw drop involuntarily. ‘a maths teacher who just happens to moonlight with coke-sniffing rockstars on the weekend.’

‘oh, come off it,’ he laughs. ‘i suppose you’ve got some incredibly cosmopolitan career.’

‘i’m an artist,’ you tell him, the second truth you’ve told him. ‘a painter.’

‘right, well, there you go. would i have seen any of your -’

he doesn’t finish his sentence before the door opens and the music and chatter of the party floods into the room again. a blond sticks his head around the door and sighs in exaggerated relief.

‘there you are, bri, we were looking for you fucking everywhere. they want us to play a few songs off the record. fred’s been sat at the piano warming up for the past fifteen minutes.’ it’s then that he notices that you’re there, too, and a slow smile appears on his face. ‘sorry, love. didn’t mean to disturb your alone time.’

before you can clarify that this is definitely not “alone time”, he shuts the door again with one final call of ‘five minutes, brian!’. it’s only the look on your new friend - brian’s - face, like he’s waiting to be scolded, that makes you piece together what just happened.

‘he just - you - some songs off the record - fred! - you’re -’ you can’t finish any of your thoughts as you point at him fiercely, eyes wide.

brian looks halfway between apologising and bursting into laughter at your indignation. ‘you lied first! “i’m a friend of the guitarist”.’

‘and i suppose that’s who i’m looking at now, yeah? not a maths teacher from brixton - honestly, a maths teacher -’

‘that part was true! i only just handed in my resignation.’

as if that makes it any better. you roll your eyes and swallow the rest of your champagne in one mouthful. ‘god, and i called you all tossers.’

‘did you mean it, that stuff about excess?’ he asks, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. ‘or were you lying there, too?’

you cover your eyes with one hand, trying to think before you answer - for once - but he keeps talking before you can.

‘because it was nice, you know. normally everyone i meet at these things wants to blow smoke up my arse about how great we are. making sure they get invited to another one.’

‘and he’s modest, too,’ you smile.

‘oh, come on. listen to a few songs and then you tear me to shreds with your criticism.’

there’s enough clamour in the party that no-one notices the two of you slip out of the kitchen together - you can imagine the rumours. brian finds his bandmates who’ve assembled themselves on the small hotel stage, probably only built for a lounge singer or two. there’s the blond from before perched at the drums, a bass player who leans casually against an amplifier, and ready at the piano sits an exotic-looking thing in a massive fur coat. freddie, you realise, the one you’ve heard the most about. you find a decent vantage point, standing against the wall at the back of the room, sipping a fresh glass of champagne.

you’re sure if you heard these songs on the radio you wouldn’t scramble to write down their names, but there’s something about the energy the band has - a sort of control over the room, an assured confidence in their ridiculousness - that works. when freddie isn’t at the piano he struts around the stage as if it’s an arena - the guests shriek when he sheds his coat dramatically. even brian, the man who you truly believed was only a maths teacher, seems imbued with an infectious bravado, gesturing for people to sing along, putting his shoulders and hips into his playing. and can he play. you don’t know the first thing about the technicalities of guitar, but your hands hurt watching him finish up what must be his sixth solo of the twenty-minute set. and with that, the men give a bow, someone turns the music up again, and they slip offstage.

you finally find tom a half hour after the performance, smoking in the courtyard and chatting with some photographers. he hugs you as if you’ve been separated for years.

‘i told you you’d enjoy yourself, darling. what have you been up to?’

‘nothing special. i was thinking of heading off soon, actually.’

‘oh, come on. it’s barely eleven.’

‘we got here at eleven. it’s almost one!’

he’s just about roped you into sitting down with his new friends - you do sound rather like your own mother, complaining about the time - when you feel a gentle hand on your shoulder.

‘there you are. i was wondering if you’d already left.’

if you didn’t recognise the voice, the look on tom’s face would be revealing enough as his eyes dart, wide, from you to brian before he points at you accusingly. you shrug in answer to his silent question, and turn to face brian.

‘i didn’t - i thought you’d have - you know, band things. i was about to go home, actually.’

‘i was being serious about wanting you to tear me to shreds.’ tom must look alarmed behind you, because he hurriedly adds, ‘with your criticisms, you know. you’ve seen us play now.’

you laugh and duck your head. ‘i don’t have an awful lot.’

‘well, tell me anyway. but not… this, here, it’s a bit -’ he glances around at the din, at couples dancing wildly, drinks being poured. ‘some of us have gone upstairs for a quiet one, if you’d like.’

‘i think -’

‘she would,’ tom pipes up, loudly, from behind you. you kick at him absently, but smile at brian.

upstairs turns out to be a private lounge with a few people scattered around talking amongst themselves and a jazz record playing quietly. among others, you notice the bass player from the band reclining easily with a woman, while a small ring of guests pour themselves whiskey and debate the new rush album. brian falls into a plush armchair and motions for you to do the same in one adjacent. when a waiter pushes past with a trolley of drinks you accept a cold beer, wanting something to ground you but nothing that will make you act more of a fool than you already have. brian does the same, and you sit in companionable silence for a minute as you start drinking.

‘it’s hard to bear, after a while. i always end up escaping like this,’ he says after a moment.

‘oh, i wasn’t too worried about that. i’ve had a few wild nights.’

he raises an eyebrow at you. ‘you painters party often, then?’

‘it’s ridiculous,’ you say, grinning. you prop your legs up on the arm of his chair, crossed at the ankle. ‘not so much now, but i was all over it when i was younger. exposed to all kinds of illicit substances and, ah… sexual confusion.’

he tilts his head back and laughs at that. you watch the line of his throat, the pretty slice of his chest revealed by the shirt. absentmindedly, his hand comes to rest on his chair but instead finds your shin. he taps a long, silver-ringed finger against the cuff of your jeans. ‘tell me about your art, then.’

it feels like minutes pass as you chat, but it must be hours - judging by the way the guests around you are shuffling out or even falling asleep on the various loveseats. you tell him about your painting, and he laughs fondly, bright-eyed, as you stand and gesture wildly to describe the motions of abstract art. you swap story after story - him of life on tour and ridiculous record labels, you of parties and snobbish art collectors. at one point you’re nearly breathless with laughter over his imitations of the kids he used to teach in brixton. the conversation turns more subdued when he tells you about his bandmates. he’s obviously immensely fond of them all, even as he confesses that they drive him up the wall half the time.

‘you promised your criticisms of us, by the way. i haven’t forgotten.’

‘i did no such thing,’ you correct him, ‘but i’ll give them anyway. you’re all very fluid, especially that singer of yours. the way you take up space - i think you wouldn’t be able to carry off the sound any other way. and you - you’re lovely to watch. you look like the composition’s coming right out of you, in the same instant that you’re playing it.’

he gives your leg a gentle squeeze - his hand is so big that it nearly meets around it. ‘you’re thinking like an artist,’ he says. ‘about the way we look. the form.’

you feel suddenly scrutinised, and you’re not sure why. your cheeks are hot. ‘i’m not sure how to think any other way,’ you tell him.

the record has finished and no one’s thought to flip it, either asleep or too caught up in their own conversations. you mumble something about fixing it and stand, smooth out the creases in your shirt. as you walk past brian, he catches you by the hip, softly but just enough to make you stop in your tracks. you look down at him, surprised. hyper-aware of the warmth of his hand even through your jeans. of the eyes looking up at you, expectant and dark enough to fall into.

‘hello,’ he says softly.

there’s nothing else to do but bend down and kiss him. his hand stays at your hip as yours come to his face, the corner of his jaw tense where he’s leaning up to reach you. you forget how simple and wonderful and teenaged a kiss can be. just him and his mouth, obliging under yours. a barely-there scratch of stubble and his curls brushing against your face. the smell and taste of him, beer and cologne and champagne.

your conversation earlier in the kitchen comes rushing back all of a sudden. you pull yourself away, smoothing your hair, leaving him looking flushed and slightly bewildered.

‘this is probably a bit of a novelty, yeah? attain the unattainable.’

‘sorry?’

‘i don’t know,’ you laugh. ‘you talk about all those women saying whatever you like to get you in bed. and the one who says she can’t stand all this rockstar shit, ends up being the one who…’

you trail off, imagining you sound fairly ridiculous, and brian stands. he’s a good head taller than you like this, though the way he carries himself stops it from being intimidating.

‘would you feel the same way if i was really just a maths teacher, then? or one of your artist friends?’

you laugh, taking a swig of your beer. ‘i suppose not.’

‘because without being - ah - presumptuous, i don’t want tonight to wind up some kind of way because of what you think my life is like.’

he perches on the arm of his chair now that you’ve visibly relaxed, and trails a hand down from your elbow to take yours in his. you step closer to him, standing between his legs, your faces almost level.

‘right. and how did you want tonight to wind up?’

he shrugs easily. pulls your hand up to his mouth and presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. ‘show me some of your work, i suppose. haven’t really gotten a feel for it yet.’

[brightsun-and-darkmidnight]

Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

TITLE: Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 31 / ?

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-dark midnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki falling in love with a Midgardian and his words to Thor about Jane during Dark World coming back to haunt him. “It would be a heartbeat. You would never be ready.”

RATING:  M for Mature

NOTES/WARNINGS: ~▪︎~FOR THE WHOLE STORY~▪︎~

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Check Masterlist. It's going to be a long read. I try to keep each chapter around 3,000 words.

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

!-!TRIGGER WARNING(S)!-!

So many triggers, read ALL of them!

Swearing. Angst. Death. Depression. Violence. Self-harm. Regret. Carelessness for safety. Doubts. Torture. NSFW. Smut. Fluff. And Of Course- Mischief.

Summary: Recovery and Discovery

~ ~ ENJOY ~ ~

Everyone followed Eir. Alicia was drawing, her hand slowed and Emma observed the image. Then held it out. Loki grabbed it immediately. Alicia held Marcibeth as Luit approached, the smirk on his face was the trademark of his teasing. Edward was in the background.

Alicia stared at the wall as if she was going to melt it.

Loki went to Alicia's side and she blinked, "I feel like… like I should know something. Like the knowledge gives me confidence but I'm just unsure about something."

Loki stroked her hair, "everything is going to be alright."

Alicia was handed the vision and she glared at it, "I swear I am so over those people." Emma took the drawing and eased her back onto the bed. Loki helped Emma make sure Alicia stayed covered as she searched the room, "where is Marci?"

Emma pushed Alicia down with a single hand pushing on her chest, "She was escorted out. She had you in the cuffs for roughly an hour and went so far as to lock the entry points." Alicia tried to get free but Emma easily kept her hand there, "Alicia you are lucky. I still don't understand HOW you managed to be alert when we came in."

Alicia's eyes locked on her hand that was trying to pry Emma's off. Loki recognized the thumb ring as one he bought her for more casual days. Alicia explained Marcibeth put a spell on it and it helped. Loki locked eyes with Emma and Eir.

Eir casually asked, "what was the spell?"

Alicia gave up on trying to sit up and rolled her wrists with grimaces, "I don't know. She whispered to the ring and her handwriting is terrible so I couldn't read it." Alicia was staring at her ring, "she is my sister and whatever it was, it helped."

Loki held his hand out and asked to examine the ring. Loki let his Seder examine the spell and it was definitely a spell from Luit's family. Despite the uneasy feeling in his stomach, Loki smiled and gently ran his thumb over the ring, "your sister cares about you. It is a protection spell. Keep it on."

Eir commanded, "Alicia you should try to rest more, there are people here to help you order some food. Emma will tend to your pains. We will be back in a few moments."

It was quiet on the way to a meeting room. Only their footsteps were heard among everyone. Still no one said a word until the door was closed and after everyone sat down within the meeting room for after medical procedures.

Loki pointed to the recent drawing, "Asgard. Join. Ship. That is what the other healers said. There are no ships here. She is never going to join Luit."

Valkyrie asked, "Well how is this her worst vision?"

"Do not forget anything can change now that she has her vision in her dreams." Eir closed her eyes with a frustrated sigh as she paused looking through a book, "Emma has found information on this. Just be quiet."

Loki clenched his teeth, closed his eyes and pinched the skin on his wrist. How could her sister do that, to force Loki to break the cuffs. Alicia's wrists had mild damage but even with her wrists healed there was still pain. At Least, Loki did not have to worry about Marcibeth and those damn cuffs that were damaged beyond use. They were a Midgardian version, similar to Luit.

Loki was pulled out of his thoughts noticing Eir's voice and observed how her finger went over the script. "Some witches are able to affect the future, the moments after the worst vision... Usually only trapped inside the witch's dreams and only the contracted healer can see them - if that is the case the vision will change in the Witch's mind to some degrees. It can also be the witch's eyes have been lost and they use their visions to see. Present visions once eyesight is lost can result in the witch changing the future to varying degrees. All of this information was already recorded, it is why Emma was able to tell us the vision is in her dreams."

Loki studied the writing in one style of handwriting. Emma's hand writing, "How was that information recorded?"

Eir turned to the next pages with different handwriting stained with blood, "intelligent healers."

Jane eyes the page and visibly paled. "Those people died?"

Thor looked at Jane then Eir…

Eir closed the book, "Healers sign a special contract with the Oracle to let the future play out as naturally as possible. If a healer gives any knowledge as to what the worst vision is, they are forced to keep the secrets. It is thanks to the sacrifices we know more about witches and visions."

A silence lingered in the air. Loki thanked all healers before this moment for their sacrifice. 

After the moment of silence everyone agreed not to ask Emma about a thing. Eir found another little snippet that only healers could see the visions and was guarded by the contract even in their mind, a courtesy by the Oracle. 

Eir quickly asked, "Loki, what was the spell on that ring?"

Loki closed his eyes briefly, "It is a protection spell, an enchantment. It heals magic, to slow the flow. It is Luit's special protection spell from his touch, but the wearer can not use magic against the caster."

Jane exaggerated the roll of her wrist, "so it is a trap?"

Loki's hands fisted, "Exactly. I suspect Marcibeth is some sort of descendant of Luit. Only his family's blood can use it. Which might be the Asgard part of this vision."

Thor growled, "and she is out, Norns know where. We can't question her."

Valkyrie spoke up, "well, let's hope Marcibeth has no bad intentions."

Eir was getting other books on bloodlines, "we need to figure out both of their ancestors. I hope we have the documentation of her ancestors information. We will get her tested and have the specialists look at this." Eir pushed the book aside after a quick look. "Alicia is in Emma's hands…"

Thor put his hands on the table, "Yeah well...Let's hope she keeps her safe." Thor's eye met Loki's, "to be the reason royalty dies is punishable in extreme measures."

Eir stood and put the books back on the shelf, "I am sure Emma will do nothing to make Alicia weak. Successful healers know what their witch needs and Emma has proven herself repeatedly that she is studying hard." Eir's lips pulled into a small smile… "Emma is stubborn, resourceful, and careful… Alicia is headstrong and an extraordinarily hard worker. They work well together by pushing the other to new levels." Eir's eyes lifted and her back straightened, "I am going to see how Alicia is doing. Elders are already on the way to see the soulforge."

Eir walked out after excusing herself. Loki followed and again, they said nothing to each other. Eir and Loki went to the healing rooms.

"Alicia I swear on the NORNS! -If you do not rest, I will restrain you."

"I am going to talk about my mission request. Emma move."

Loki's eyes shifted between the two then to Eir as she told Alicia to rest. Alicia groaned but sat on the bed. Alicia asked for a spell book then. Emma denied the request but turned the TV on. Emma held Alicia's hands and the glowing gold flowed into her wrists. When the flow stopped Emma turned and muttered about Alicia's stubbornness then at the door she turned quickly and told her to stay in bed.

Alicia rolled her eyes as Loki sat in a chair by the bed.

Alicia muttered, "This is a cursed tower."

Loki smiled brushing hair back, "How about a little vacation?"

Alicia snorted, "Emma would make a serious attempt at both of our deaths. I also put in the mission request."

Loki clenched his jaw and closed his eyes so he would not glare. He felt soft fingers and the light scratches of her nails. Eyes opened to see her wincing then Loki held her elbows and leaned back. He told her to relax, she made him a deal to get the team together and have a video conference. He told her to not give Emma anymore trouble.

She smirked, "I will."

Loki told Emma to have fun on the way out. The team was already heading to Alicia's room. Emma was arguing about Alicia trying to heal herself. Alicia threw her hands in the air and tried to hide the pain with a grit of teeth. Emma chided her about pain and how there was a healing schedule for her due to her magic getting back in order.

Emma's finger pointed at the stubborn woman, "Alicia I will put you to sleep."

"Am I too difficult for you?"

Emma kept her mouth shut as she laughed. "As soon as your little meeting is over you are eating and going to sleep."

"Yes, mom."

Emma's throat rumbled as she walked past the team.

Alicia smiled at the team and asked when they were going on the mission. Tony informed her that they would be going without her. Peter knew the room he was in during the ambush and they will search it for an entrance. Alicia protested but Steve said it was Eir's restrictions for the next week. Peter apologized but Alicia stayed silent as she stared at her hands.

"It's ok."

Emma came back with a soup, bread, and smoothie. Alicia groaned like some child but Emma told her if she ate all of the she could have some fish-without Asgardian herbs. Alicia ate with a pout. Everyone knew Alicia hated missing out on missions, especially considering her father. Loki stayed when everyone left.

"You don't need to stay. It is boring as hell here."

Loki took the spoon of of her hand, "I see you struggling. You need to rest your hands." Loki smiled holding a spoonful up to her mouth, "sooner you heal the sooner you get out of this bed. Good girl." Loki saw how Alicia smiled after she took the whole offering in her mouth. As he fed her she held his eyes, sucked on his fingers each time he gave her a piece of bread that was dipped in the broth. Loki chuckled as he offered the last bit of smoothie to her. He saved a few pieces of bread to cover the taste. As she was sucking on his fingers after the last piece Emma cleared her throat.

"I am glad to see you are resting because I fully expected you two to be taking advantage of being alone." Emma said loudly to keep Alicia quiet, "ANYWAY. I had some food brought here. Enough for Loki and a little bit of fish for you as well. Thor and a few Asgardians will be here soon...so keep behaving." Emma pointed her fingers between the two, sent a mother's warning glare before walking out.

Loki fed Alicia some of his own food after she ate all of her fish. They ate together as Alicia said she felt odd as she could eat so much. Admitting to not eating anything before this moment but it was like she was replenishing magic. Loki had a feeling it was similar to when he needed the extra energy after a day of too much Seder use. Everything about her changes in eating made sense, noticing how she usually only had a few bites when they first met and how she ate plates more once she started training with Emma 

Eir, Thor, Emma, and Elders came in. Alicia was put back on the soulforge and the elders examined the information. Alicia laid still and silent as they went through the information. Loki noticed how Alicia was emotionless through the whole thing. Her face was pale, blank and her eyes were dull.

An elder woman spoke up, "I am sure there are no mistakes but we will get her to the one in Asgard soon enough for a better image." The image disappeared and the woman smiled at Alicia as she helped her up, "we will see each other again."

Loki let Emma guide Alicia back to her room. Alicia seemed to be in a daze as Emma gave permission for Loki to stay. Loki sat beside the bed and held her hand.

When she finally spoke it was monotone as if she was undecided on how to react,  "I don't understand." Then she laughed, "how could I? Neither of my parents said a thing. None of my family did." She looked at Loki and he saw the tears threatening to spill, "I grew up surrounded by family until my vision." She turned her head towards the ceiling and kept her eyes open, "everyone left once I drew things that happened later on." The tears fell as she gripped Loki's hand, "everyone leaves."

"Well Love.. you are stuck with me. Till the end of our lives."

Her nostrils flared as she exhaled quickly with a grim smile, "we didn't have that official ceremony."

"Alicia you are the only one for me." Then her eyes met his and his heart broke at how ragged the battlefield of her mind was. He smiled, "we kind of told the King… So it is basically Official."

Alicia rolled her eyes with a smile. The last few tears fell as she replied, "perhaps you are the one stuck with me."

Loki wiped the tear trails away, "blessed. I am blessed with you." Loki kissed her forehead "go to bed Love before Emma decides to remove me." When Loki tried to sit in the chair Alicia tried to pull him but winced. Loki eased her hands away "I do not want to hurt you, this chair is actually quite comfortable." Loki felt her shield behind him and pushed him closer, "love, you need to sleep. To rest."

"I will, but I need someone to hold me. I doubt Emma is going to volunteer.."

The shield disappeared and Loki sighed, "as soon as you are asleep I will move to that chair."

Well… when Alicia woke up Loki was still asleep. She smiled with a whisper, "God of Lies.." 

Alicia laid still and watched some boring TV news. The door opened and Loki's grumble as he rolled away from her had both Alicia and Emma sharing amused faces. Alicia felt the bed shift as Loki stood up. He went to the window and tried to stifle a yawn.

Emma held her hands out and Alicia displayed hers. The sensation was soothing and took the ache and sting away for a little. Emma helped Alicia sit up moved the table to Alicia and watched Alicia take the medication before she left. Alicia's pain eased little by little as the medication took effect. 

Alicia took her own fork while Loki ate his own food. He eyed her but she claimed she would be fine. There were stabs of pain as she moved her wrists or even moved her fingers wrong. But the pain that had her gasp were surges of magic. There was a loud yell for help as Alicia clutched her chest.

The food table moved away as she was eased backwards. Tears pricked her eyes as she tried to breathe but it felt like her body was filled with something that constricted her air. She felt Seder working around her chest but she was hyperventilating from fear. She heard Emma telling her to breathe slowly, to focus on that only. Alicia tried but her heart felt like it was going to collapse on itself which had her breath caught in her throat. Her mind was racing but no thoughts other than breathing were present. Her body was becoming numb from the amount of pain coursing through her. 

Emma's hands were cupping her face as she stood at the head of the bed. Alicia's mind relaxed, she couldn't think of anything other than the darkness. The calm, silent, and still darkness. Emma forced her mind to it's safe space from everything. The space she went to block out everything.

Everything was getting fuzzy and bright. Alicia let the vision happen.

Alicia watched many scenes play in her mind.

Marcibeth got Marcus out of a place and she gave him to some of the Avengers. Luit and Edward in custody. Alicia rushing to find her sister… then she felt terrible as she seen her fight her own sister. Then Marcibeth going with Edward and Luit on a ship.

Alicia felt her mind being forced from those thoughts and she did not feel as much physical pain. However, the visions were too fast and it felt like they weren't in order.

A family and challenges.

Seeing other worlds and new beings

Extreme pain form years of torture. 

Alicia's child in her arms then a future with no children at all. 

Alicia's funeral.. other funerals.

Happiness.

Loki's face worried. They were in some sort of, building? Alicia knew they would be alright but left Loki to worry.

Death.

A silhouette of a large figure.

Darkness enveloped her in a comforting embrace. There were so many possibilities. Good, bad..a mixture.

A soft murmuring in the room. Alicia opened her eyes. Eir was talking to others. Alicia felt puffs of air on her head, the feeling was welcomed due to the coolness but it smelt weird. Her eyes met Emma's exhaustion with eyes threatening to close. 

Emma panted, "You are so ridiculously… challenging."

"Sorry?"

Emma laughed with big breaths as she stood with the help of others.

Eir stood over Alicia, "your body was going into your worst vision but your mind could not keep up. It could be a result of being in the cuffs too long. Do you remember what you could see.. feel?"

Alicia bit her lip then rolled it out of the grasp of her teeth. "I'm not sure. There were… so many ways it turned out."

Eir nodded, "maybe another time." Eir glanced at Emma slumped in the chair, "probably not soon though."

Alicia observed no one helping her, "help her."

Eir gave Alicia a serious look that was worse than Emma's, "It is best to leave her rest on her own."

Eir stepped back and the other healers went outside.

[lululawrence]

WIP Wednesday

I was tagged a week or two ago by @helloamhere to do wip wednesday, so even though @jacaranda-bloom, @beau-soleil-louis, and @reminiscingintherain tagged me to do the last line challenge, i’m letting this fill in for that instead hehe So! here’s a snippet of my current wip! it’s working title is voice harry au, which makes basically no sense to anyone but me, but since this is wip wednesday and doesn’t really have rules, i guess i can explain that too before i share my snippet!

i almost got so distracted i didn’t tag anyone, so i tag those i tagged above who want to do this, as well as @londonfoginacup, @sadaveniren, @becomeawendybird, @kingsofeverything, @laynefaire, and @lightwoodsmagic!

so this all came about because i was watching the voice with my parents and there was this kid trying out. he was from this tiny resort town in idaho (niall played there last year, actually!), and he talked about how growing up he never thought he’d leave his town because he loved it so much. but as he got older, the town grew and changed into a resort town for the rich and famous and he no longer felt like he belonged in this place he loved with so much of himself. it was a rough time for him because he was in high school and didn’t know what he was going to do with himself, and that was when he discovered music and he felt like maybe that was his way out.

during all of this, it showed him sitting on this overlook rock, looking out on this gorgeous lake with trees surrounding him and his outfit was very harry 2013 (a la loose fitting shirt, beanie with curls poking out, etc) and when he came out to sing, his long hair looked like harry’s as well and later he even talked about how people often tell him he reminds them of harry styles. his voice was great as well, and it was then, that this famous/non-famous fic was born. it uses some of the feelings he described in his packet, but the rest of his experience was very different for the fic that grew in my mind.

and with that, below the cut, is the (long, unedited) snippet of my voice harry wip, hopefully coming soon to the @1000feelingsfics fest! haha

Harry set his guitar on the stand and walked to the bar where Mitch was had his beer waiting.

“Oh, Mitch! Buying me a beer? You shouldn’t have,” Harry teased, pretending to act coy. “After all, what would Sarah say?”

“Fuck off, Harry,” Mitch said, but he wasn’t hiding his smile very well. Harry knew he said otherwise, but underneath it all, Mitch really did love him.

Harry laughed and took a sip. He loved the seasonal lagers they served at Steve’s and a new one had just come out last week. Harry sighed happily as he sat down at the stool in front of Mitch.

“So, what did you think?” Harry asked as he set his cup down on the bar. “Is there a certain set you think works better than the other? I liked my new song from Tuesday, but I’m not sure. I feel like people might have preferred my original song from tonight better.”

“I liked your original, myself, but redoing one of Louis Tomlinson’s songs the way you did was ballsy.”

Harry turned, surprised by the voice he heard close to his shoulder. Upon seeing who it was, Harry was even more glad he’d set his glass down before so he couldn’t drop it on the floor when he realized Louis fucking Tomlinson himself was complimenting Harry’s music.

“Holy shit,” Harry said quietly, eyes wide. He blinked a few times, but Louis continued to stand there. “You’re…” Swallowing, Harry did his best to pull himself together and say a full sentence. “Hi, I love your music and I don’t think I’ve played your song yet tonight.”

“You haven’t,” Louis said, smile wide and eyes sparkling. God, he was somehow even more beautiful in person. “But I’ve come every night to hear you sing. You’re really talented.”

Harry looked back to Mitch to see if he was hearing the same thing Harry was. He must have fallen and hit his head or something, because this absolutely wasn’t real. There was no way the Louis Tomlinson had listened to him for three nights and liked what he heard.

“What are you looking at me for?” Mitch asked, flicking Harry with his wet rag as he moved further down to clean the bar where a party had just left. “The pop star is talking to you, not me.”

Turning back to Louis and feeling a bit sheepish over the fact he’s behaving like some socially-challenged elementary school child, Harry rubbed the back of his neck and smiled as best he could. “Thank you,” he finally managed.

“You’re welcome,” Louis said, bowing his head a little as he gestured to the stool beside Harry. “Is this taken?”

Harry shook his head as quickly as he could. “Nope. Definitely free.”

Smiling even wider, Louis sat down and smiled at Mitch. After ordering a beer on tap, Louis turned to Harry. “So, do you write your original stuff by yourself or do you have a writing partner?”

“Oh, uh,” Harry couldn’t really believe he was being asked about his writing process with someone as famous as Louis. What had this night become. “Well I usually write it by myself, but sometimes if I’m stuck on a part or something, Mitch here is really great with a guitar and writing some things himself.”

“He’s full of shit, don’t believe a word he says,” Mitch warned Louis as he handed him his beer then walked away.

Louis started cackling before turning his bright smile Harry’s way. “God, he’s already one of my favorite people in this town.”

Harry tried not to let a swirl of jealousy grow within his belly. “He’s pretty great, yeah,” Harry forced out with what was hopefully a genuine smile before taking a sip of his beer. He really didn’t have much time left before he needed to start his next set, and besides, he really did love Mitch.

“Does he help you with the arrangements for your covers as well?” Louis asked before taking a sip of his own and humming happily at his choice. “I’m being serious when I tell you I’ve never heard someone take a hugely popular song and making it entirely their own like you do. It’s incredible.”

“Thank you,” Harry said, still feeling like this conversation was somehow not really happening. “Those are all my own, though.”

Louis tilted his head and smiled at Harry. “Your YouTube videos are pretty impressive as well, you know.”

Harry choked on his beer in surprise and winced at the burning sensation it caused inside his nose. Thankfully none actually came out, but it was a near thing and that would be bothering him the rest of the night.

“You looked me up on YouTube?” This conversation somehow continued to shock him and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle too much more. Louis was going to send his blood pressure so high he was going to pass out.

Smirking, Louis said, “I’ve done my research on you best I could, yeah.”

Shaking his head, Harry finally had to ask the question that had been running through his head from the moment Louis turned this into a full fledged conversation. “Why?”

“Why what?” Louis asked, chuckling. “You’re good, Harry. I already told you that.”

“Yeah, but,” Harry ran his hand nervously through his hair. “I’m not that good. I mean, I like to think I’m pretty good, but I’ve been called mediocre enough times to know that my chances of getting out of this town thanks to music are slim.”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “Anyone who calls you mediocre obviously has no idea what the fuck they’re talking about.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, well some of them were pretty high up in various record labels, so excuse me for disagreeing.”

“You got in for auditions at labels?” Louis asked, eyebrows high. Harry was at least somewhat glad he was able to turn the tables for at least a little bit.

Shrugging, Harry said, “A couple.”

“Five,” Mitch yelled from where he was mixing drinks a few feet over. “He’s gone to LA for five different labels.”

Turning back to Harry, Louis said, “They’re fucking idiots.”

“Said I wasn’t what they were looking for,” Harry said. “Or that I was too mediocre to gain a true following or something like that.”

Louis leaned forward and said, “Well, I’m telling you they are wrong and I’d like to prove to you how much I believe that.”

One last swig to drain the cup, Harry stood up and asked, “Oh yeah? And how’d you like to do that?”

“Write with me.”

“Yeah right,” Harry said turning around to walk back to his makeshift stage. This had to be a prank someone was pulling on him. Hell, Grimmy knew exactly how much he loved Louis and his music. He’d probably run into him and asked him to pull Harry’s leg or something.

“I’m serious,” Louis called after him.

“Okay,” Harry said with a laugh before he picked up his guitar. “I’ll dedicate this next set to you and if you’re still here afterwards, we can exchange numbers.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Curly.”

[renegade-skywalker]

I haven’t really been as involved in fandom stuff or posting on here as much as I usually do/would like to (other than reblogging here and there while I try not to burn out at work) but I had this idea that my exile, Eden, and her brother Aiden rekindle their twin Force bond after running into each other on Korriban (sort of... Aiden/Erebus is still playing sides...) and decide to Force Skype and I randomly began writing it so this the result of that... *releases wild head canon into the internet*

---    

          “It’s… weird,” she said, her voice humming, even in his mind, “Seeing you here. Seeing you there.”

              Eden was alone in a bunk, and a cushy one at that, Erebus noted. The room was large enough to house a desk, a small dining table with two place settings, and a double bed on the far side of the wall, a sliver of closet visible beside the bed from where he could see her. In his minds’ eye, Eden was the sole focus, the rest of the room a bit faded and blurry, but clear enough for him to make out the bunk’s contents. She even had a small porthole, its window ablaze with the white-blue of hyperspace in the space of wall beside the dining table. She had several datapads stored there haphazardly, a stylus and a discarded robe, and not to mention the bed was a total mess.

              “Still judging my living habits, I see,” she smiled, almost appearing comfortable. “You’re as proper as always.”

              It felt so strange, speaking to her like this, seeing her like this. They had only touched on something like this when they were younger, exchanging quick messages telepathically during their lessons, occasionally sending each other snippets of thought, flashes of images to supplement their mental notes, making fun of or complaining about Master Vrook all the while. But now… he could see all of her, and feel her too, her quiet calm and soothing energy, more in-tune with herself than she’d ever been…

              “An organized mess, as can be expected,” he replied after a moment too long, “Doesn’t look so unusual, huh?”

              Eden shook her head, almost happy at the sameness of it, and Erebus smiled, too. Same. It did feel as it had before, when they were young, when they were close, when they were all each other had.

              “Have you… ever done this before?” Eden asked, unsure of what to do with her hands, though it looked like she wanted to reach out and touch him, to test the realness of it, as if to enter his room through whatever window they’d opened in a rift of the Force, through the eye of the needle they’d threaded through space and time.

              “Not quite,” he admitted, almost laughing with mirth at the very idea, “This is… I mean, this is rather incredible.”

              He could go on for ages. It seemed such a feat, to reach across space to speak to one another in each others’ minds yet also in the flesh somehow, as if they were both granted a glimpse of the other by merely willing it to be so.

              “You’ve seen quite a bit, so I’m guessing that’s a lot coming from you,” Eden said, almost a question but also most certainly not. She knew what he studied, had perused his notes, examined his life’s work. She’d seen the inside of his ship and the things he’d stored there. “I think… I think I understand it now, and… I’m sorry I never-“

              She cut herself off, her eyes almost glassy.

              “Did you see the rest of the Academy?” she asked again, blinking away tears, her curiosity still clear on her face, “Or did you-? I don’t know, I guess Korriban isn’t exactly new to you, is it?”

              Erebus wanted to laugh but he didn’t. The idea was genuinely funny, though not in the sense that he was laughing at her, just the idea… but a lump in his throat stopped him, forced him to take a breath before answering.

              “I’d studied there, yes,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper, “But… it’s been a while.”

              “I would imagine,” Eden breathed a laugh now, though not with amusement, “I couldn’t believe some of what we’d found, what I saw in the records, the archives. It’s a wonder any of it is still there. After everything, and I just… I don’t know.”

              Eden shook her head, looking away, wringing her hands in her lap. He could feel it again – Eden’s emotions, waves of feeling lapping at the very edges of his consciousness, as if their life forces were pools rippling awfully close in an endless, cosmic pool – and he couldn’t help but ask.

              “What is it?” he asked, though he almost knew what it was, sensing the guilt suddenly teeming off of her, replacing the calm that was there only moments ago.

              “I… I think I get it now,” she said after a moment, returning her gaze to him as she finished her sentence, “It never interested me then, but…”

              “Things have changed,” he said, sensing her thoughts and speaking them freely, “So now you know why I-“

              “You were the perfect student for Atris,” Eden laughed, though this time there was genuine amusement in her voice, in her face, her eyes lighting up as she sighed before continuing, “I couldn’t have cared less, at least not at the time, and still she chose to fixate on me, she wanted to tutor me, when she had the perfect student right in front of her.”

              Erebus said nothing, Atris’ rejection still a fresh hurt, even after all these years. And yet-

              “But I think I understand your side of things, as well,” Erebus admitted, holding his sister’s gaze, “I felt it. Kavar’s approval, or lack thereof. Even when you surpassed his skills and beyond. What. A fucking. Fool.”

              Anger rippled at the base of his chest, yet he could tell Eden felt it too, either in remembering her own hurts or in realizing they were both scorned as students, yet had failed to confide in each other, all because the Council forced them apart.

              “We should have been friends,” Eden said, her voice heavy, “We should have been friends.”

              “Council be damned, at least we can agree on that.”

              “Damned, indeed,” Eden agreed darkly.  “But the Sith…”

              Erebus felt Eden’s thoughts, images flashing before his eyes as she ruminated, her thoughts not yet forming adequate words – the Sith ruins, the Academy, the remnants of the tombs, but also Alek, and Revan and everything that predicated Erebus’ training, his true calling, his-

              “It’s fascinating,” Eden admitted, her words quick as if she were afraid of who may overhear her and judge her for it, “Everything. The Sith may have caused so much death, created it even, but the things they’ve discovered, the things they built-“

              Erebus knew Eden did not mean their monuments or their temples, but the devices he studied, the tools the Sith had discovered to harness the Force and explore it, the very things that fueled his work and his interest.

              “It’s a wonder what the selfishness can accomplish when dedicated to their own self-preservation,” he said, “Cowards, the lot of them.”

              He watched Eden, a smile flitting over her face in amusement at the truth in his statement, before he added, “Myself included.”

              She didn’t correct him, though her shock at his honesty was apparent. He wasn’t sure if it was as clearly written on her face so much as it was felt, his intuition sure of her feeling as soon as he’d said it. She agreed, but she also didn’t. And she couldn’t explain why.

              “We don’t have to unpack all that now,” he assured, trying to make light of his words and change the subject, “But… I like that we can talk like this, now, even if-“

              “Even if we should have been allowed to, decades ago?” Eden finished for him. “Imagine what we could have done if the Council hadn’t-?”

              “A lot of things,” he rejoined before she could finish her thought, “And not just limited to us.”

              “You can say that again.”

              Once, Erebus would have disagreed. When he was Aiden, he believed the Jedi could do no wrong - he had to believe that. Otherwise, everything he knew to be true about the universe was incorrect. He imagined Atris was still living by that ideology, making excuses in order to keep herself sane every step of the way, and losing a piece of herself every time she stubbornly forced the pieces to fit.

              “You can say that again, too,” Eden said, sensing his thoughts, sensing Atris on the tip of his proverbial tongue, “Not sure if you knew, but I caught up with our old teacher not too long ago.”

              “Oh?” Erebus asked, though in reality he didn’t want to hear the details, at least not yet. There was so much he still wanted to know about Eden – not just about what had happened, but how she was doing, he it felt to be void of the Force, exempt from its pervasive nature, and how she managed to keep it all together despite everything that happened to her years ago, in the years since then, and even in the days and weeks prior to the here and now. But he also wanted none of those things… he just wanted to be with her, like they used to be when they were kids, exploring the universe and experiencing everything together, their thoughts and feelings an ever-growing mesh threading itself together stitch by stitch with every shared experience.

              “A story for another day,” she said, and at that Erebus smiled. Another day. She wanted to do this again. She still wasn’t sure if she should trust him, he could feel it, though to be fair Erebus wasn’t sure if she should trust him either. But she could also tell it was a sore subject, and would not press the matter. Oh, how far we’ve come, sister.

              Oh how far, indeed, Eden replied with a smile, a genuine one, allowing herself to feel the expression in full, despite how used to she was to dispelling it, willing away her happiness in lieu of fear and uncertainty. Not to say that there was nothing unsure about Erebus, though there was something familiar about their talking, something safe. In the way that it feels to be with family, true family. Where that feeling of unspoken togetherness, cohabitation without need for speaking was similar and safe and sound and felt the same, always the same.

              Eden nodded, as if sensing his thoughts, and said, “It’s nice to see you again, Aiden.”

              And with that, Erebus faded away, though not completely, melding into Aiden and folding in on himself again, feeling both his old and new self into one, as if being reborn but not quite. More like… feeling awake for the first time. Truly alive. Aware and awake and wide-eyed and ready to soak the world in.

              “You too, Ede.”