#he's still the fastest flyer but just not as fast as he was before the fight

[monochrome-monarch]

I made a promise that I intend to keep

Okay, so my friend @flamingkingoftheskies and I were discussing some good angst for Atlantis Days (fun fact: it was the first thing we discussed lol) and well, it's Rodorah-centric because clearly the ship doesn't have enough angst in it lol (but don't worry, we have also discussed some fluff and shitposts for it, which I'll spill in a future post).

You know how I mentioned that the Triplets remembered that they were planet conquerors and that they decided to go back to being conquerers, starting with Earth? Well, They also decided 'Hey, before we kill our now ex-friend Gojira and be the new alpha, why don't we ask Rodan to be our Beta?' Because, well, Rodan and Ghidorah are mates at this point and have children of their own. So yeah, makes sense to them that their beautiful and wonderful mate would be their Beta.

Except the thing is is that Rodan is definitely not up for murdering his best friend and Alpha and taking over the Earth for obvious reasons. Hell, he's pretty disgusted that Ghids is totally on board with murdering their best friend ("Did he mean nothing to you three!?"). Rodan tries to talk them out of it but the triplets are also trying to talk him into joining them. It goes downhill from there. Like, really downhill from there.

Okay, so basing the next scene off of these two posts by @ckret2, one of the things Ghidorah has remembered from their past is that they can apparently control people using their voice. Well, in the past, mostly roars but they can use it with their regular(?) voice. Sure, it's been a long, long time since they have used it but when dealing with Rodan, who is getting more and more agitated (and scared? They hope he isn't), it's worth the shot, right?

So, Ichi decides to use it on Rodan, Ni and San deciding to butt out for now unless Ichi could use some help. It goes smoothly, sure Rodan was getting a feeling that something was off but he starting to agree with Ichi. Yeah, taking over Earth sounds like a great idea. Yeah, he'll definitely be their Beta and they can rule together. Yeah, he's definitely up for killing Gojira and - Wait, what?

So yeah, Rodan suceeds in a wisdom saving throw or something and snaps out of it. Maybe mentioning on murdering the Alpha aka your mate's best friend wasn't such a good idea when you're trying to get your mate to join you at the Dark Side. And now said mate knows that not only do you conquer, and sometimes destroy but that doesn't happen that much, planets and want to murder his best friend but you and your brothers can apparently also mind control him and you did just that. It is certainly not helping your case.

When Rodan snapped out of it, he made a nearby volcano erupt out of sheer rage and fear which did get a lot of attention from humans and neighboring titans. So yeah, everyone's wondering what the hell is going on but well, seeing as Rodan is a disaster, they all collectively thought, "Oh, what did he do this time?" All except his friends, most especially Goji who is considering on going to check on Rodan, and Ghidorah by extension, since, clearly, something ain't right. And well, yeah, by the time Goji got to Isla de Mara, the argument had evolved into an aerial brawl, and not the fun kind, since the triplets had given up on convincing Rodan to join them but Rodan wasn't going to let them go off and kill Goji so cue Rodan attacking them.

To an outsider, they just look like they're rough housing but to someone that knows them well like Goji, it's clearly a serious fight and Goji rushes in to mediate, totally oblivious to the fact that the triplets want him dead. So, imagine the look on Goji's face when the triplets suddenly attack him, murderous looks on their faces. Luckily, Rodan is quick and immediately defends his Alpha so he can get over the shock and fight back. I'm not sure if sensing dumbassery is her sixth sense or Goji called her before confronting them but Mothra arrives to help. Rodan also fills them in on what's going on and yeah, Goji coming over was a terrible idea. Also, now it's 3 against 3 but it's still difficult as the Triplets had many years of asskicking and planet destroying experience.

So, shit gets so bad that a retreat was needed, hell Mosu had the most injuries. To buy them time to escape, Rodan stays behind and continues to fight his mates despite being clearly outmatched. It ends in Rodan losing horribly via getting shot down with a gravity blast from all three of them. Like, so bad his wings got badly damaged and maybe his volcanic armor is cracked and bleeding. If you're wondering how bad, we made some guesses as to how bad:

The orange/yellow marks are former holes and tears that got repaired by the magma

You're probably wondering: "Oh come on, Rodan and Goji were fine in the film when they got blasted" and I will say

1) Meh, just for angst

2) Goji and Rodan are two different species but I will admit that, yes, Rodan would've been able to deal with it better because he's made of volcanic rock but see number 1

3) In the film, Rodan was only hit by one blast. Here, it's three. Both at point blank.

But mostly, it's option one. Oh, don't give me that look.

So yeah, after having defeated their mate and thought to have killed him, the Triplets push back their pain and regret and set off to find Goji and Mosu, who are at Atlantis and trying to get the Atlanteans to evacuate with Anguirus helping them. Ghidorah attacks, Atlantis sinks with Anguirus dying there (maybe) and fight ends up being taken to Antartica. The triplets end up getting sealed and trapped under the ice and I'm considering having Mothra die, which explains her first appearance in KOTM. Either way, Goji is able to secure his position as Alpha but ends up losing four friends and a mate except mate will come back who knows when and three of said friends aren't exactly his friends anymore. Still really devastated, though

He goes back to Isla de Mara, hoping that Rodan is still alive and yeah, he is but seriously wounded. They chat for a bit as Goji carries Rodan up the volcano, he also tells him what happened, especially to Mothra, Anguirus and Ghidorah. Rodan is of course upset but knows it had to be done however, he still feels guilty about Mothra and Anguirus. They arrive at the peak, Rodan's children running up to him and Goji. They saw the fight. They watched their sires blast their carrier out of the sky. They thought he was dead - Rodan and Gojira try their best to calm the children. He'll be fine. He just needs to rest and recover and everything will be alright. They promise to the little ones.

Before Goji puts him inside his volcano to heal, Rodan tells him where Dagon's egg is located since he and the former Alpha had hidden the egg somewhere secret before Dagon died from his injuries.

"Promise me that you'll take good care of the kid?"

"I promise."

And Godzilla carefully places Rodan in the magma to heal. Rodan then goes into hibernation. After bidding the children goodbye, Goji then goes off to find the egg and does find it. He tries raising it alongside his son and tries his best before the Mass Hibernation started.

Millions of years later, Goji wakes up to a bunch of shattered eggshells and faded footprints indicating that the egg had hatched while he slept, his son, now full grown, still sleeping and also, the humans are noisy but also advanced. Still annoying, though. Oh, and they blow things up now. . . Great. Years later, he has to deal but eventually kill two rivals, descendents of his predecessor's killer. Five years later, his three former friends come back and well,

Millions of years later, Mothra hatches to, instead of adoring and loyal followers, strangely armored humans pointing weapons at her. One fires at her and well, just because Mothra is a child at the moment doesn't mean she can't kick ass. Sure, she does calm down upon hearing her mate's ever so familiar and comforting call but she ends up escaping when shit goes down, when dangerous humans enter and begin to kill everyone around her. Then when shit gets even worse when her three former friends come back and well, it's definitely ass-kicking time. Well, she needs to lay an egg first and then it's ass-kicking time.

Millions of years later, the triplets are rudely awaken to an explosion that frees them and the pests wearing weird armor and wielding weird weapons (San wants one of those rifle things though). It's a shame those weapons don't work on them but even then again, What is a human weapon to a gravity beam? Then their archenemy appears and well, while they manage to overpower him, which honestly proves their point on how weak he is, they decide to escape. Then as they fly away from their prison, they hear a roar, a familiar roar that they thought they will never hear again. Maybe. . . Maybe they can try again. They can be together again. They can rule this planet together, as Alpha and Beta. Hopefully. . . Then their beloved mate attacks them.

Millions of years later, Rodan wakes up to what sounds like an Alpha call, his now adult children still asleep and his volcano modified with metal and advanced technology. Not that he cares on the latter part. He wants out. And so he does and he's greeted by his patron city now looking very different and strange birds flying and blasting at him. Rodan isn't pleased with the things hitting him and reopening some minor wounds on his recently healed wings so, Rodan decides to teach some pests a lesson on how aggravating a titan is a terrible idea - Then he sees them. Deep inside, he wants to be happy to see them. It's been so long after all. But he remembers what happened. He remembers the fight. He remembers how they just attempted to murder their friends without a care about their history. He remembers the pain. Then with an enraged roar, he forgets his prey and lunges at his traitorous mates.

---

Okay, I just finally finished writing this and holy shit, this was longer and way more than I expected. Like, I was just going to tell you guys some Rodorah angst but well, never dang. Here's some more stuff about Atlantis Days, I guess.

Also, pretty sure I didnt do a good job explaining but meh.

Though, I might edit this in the future, in case I get more ideas or change my mind or something.

Edit: Wording

[dragon-tamer-1]

Flighteningverse

Tempest!Error and Spectrum!Ink

(Art by @kotikaleo, who I commissioned for this absolutely gorgeous artwork)

Tempest!Error

- His strings can be charged with electricity, both as he's using them and after already catching an enemy. He's immune to his own electricity, but can still be shocked with other forms of electricity. Lightning bolts are actually like power boosts for him.

- He has an aura that makes the air around him charged, if you have hair and you're near him, your hair will stand on end. It's kinda static-y and there is a small buzz that, if you were to be in physical contact, would be like a small vibration that you can barely feel.

- He's very confident in himself, and is usually quiet. He really likes flying, it always puts him at peace, except if he has to fight mid-air.

- Has haphephobia, but it isn't too severe, just can't handle touch for too long. Small amounts of contact is okay, but slightly uncomfortable.

- Is actually the fastest flyer out of everyone. He can fly as fast as a lightning bolt when he's going full speed, though it's only in emergencies or when he wants to. Though even at cruising speed he's faster than most.

- If he's really angry, he'll cause a thunderstorm, in which he's more powerful. He will either cause lightning to hit you, or let them hit him for a quick boost in power.

- He can travel through the multiverse by opening portals, the portals look like they're made of electricity. They can zap anyone who touches the edges, except for Tempest.

- Can destroy AU's, and used to do it on a larger scale until he and Spectrum made a deal. He is not allowed to destroy new, young AUs, but is allowed to destroy old, either abandoned AUs or AUs that are falling apart.(I was partially inspired by entity-404's(I think, I vaguely remember seeing a similar headcanon on their blog when I asked for headcanons about Error) headcanon for this one)

- His glitches are mild, but when he's being touched, he gets more. As well as when he's feeling really angry, upset, or scared.

~~~~~~~~~~

Spectrum!Ink

- He can summon Broomie at will, he doesn't need to carry it around on his back all the time(chooses to do so sometimes, anyway). Broomie resembles a watercolor brush, rather than a paintbrush. His attacks are more watery than paint as a result.

- He can calm storms and turn them into light rain/cloudy weather. He leaves a rainbow before he leaves, kinda as a sign to the AU's residents that it's safe to come out. When Tempest causes storms, it's hard to calm those down until he leaves or stops causing them.

- He can travel the multiverse through any source of water, as well. It has to be at least 10% water-based for him to traverse through it, though. (This doesn't apply to humans or any living creature. That'd just be weird/gross. Though he will take the opportunity to burst out of a cucumber if there's one nearby just to mess around with people.)

- Has an aura that feels like a warm sunny day sometimes, and other times it feels like the air does after it rains.

- Is stronger than Tempest, physically, but not by a lot. He never intends to severely hurt him, though.

- Is very playful most of the time. You can expect to see him either flying around in the sky/near the ceiling of the Underground(depending on the AU), or maybe painting the landscape. He gets serious when it's called for, though.

- Flying is really fun for him. He occasionally tries racing with Tempest, and is only slightly salty about not winning.

- He has a SOUL, but is disconnected from his feelings due to his SOUL being faded. He has his paints that help him feel his emotions. He can rarely feel natural emotions, though not in high amounts.

- When he found out his feathers can shine rainbows in the right lighting, he was super excited, one of the few times his natural emotions managed to shine through. He then experimented to find out the best angle that makes his feathers shine brighter.

- Memory is pretty bad still. Writes on his scarf important details he wants/needs to remember. Sometimes just writes down random things, though.

- Helps AUs form, but isn't the one who creates them. The Creators create them, but Spectrum isn't aware of them.

- His part of the deal with Tempest is that he can help the new AUs form and help reform AUs that seem determined to exist(or that the Creators want to keep around). But he can't try to save the AUs that are abandoned or falling apart.

- His eyelight that has the snowflake changes to a symbol for the other seasons: 🌸= Spring(can be different colors and flowers) ☀️= Summer(stays yellow) 🍁= Fall/Autumn(can be different colors and leaves) ❄= Winter(stays white). Only changes depending on the season an AU is in. It's a default snowflake otherwise.

- His other eyelight changes color and shape every time he blinks.

Here's my version of Error and Ink, Tempest and Spectrum. I absolutely love these designs, and I can't stop staring at them sometimes.

@jann-the-bean @kotikaleo @thevoidismyhome2000 Here they are!

Original Error belongs to @loverofpiggies

Original Ink belongs to @myebi/@comyet

Tempest!Error and Spectrum!Ink belong to me

Backstory

Dispirited!Dream

Sanguine!Nightmare

Other Info

Lushia(Flighteningverse!Lust)'s ref

Flighteningverse Cross's ref

Flighteningverse Horror, Dust, and Killer's ref

Flighteningverse: How wings are formed on outcodes

FV!Horror, FV!Dust, and FV!Killer's refs

Radical!Fresh's ref

Fracture!Geno's ref

FV!Reaper's ref

[notnctu]

to jeno, my orientation leader ♡

To All The J’s I’ve Loved Before Series by notnctu ♡ lee jeno x fem!reader ♡ genre - fluff ♡ wc - 1.5k ♡ warnings - n/a ♡ synopsis - in which you bump into the sugary sweet orientation leader, who you were so love struck for back in your first year  ♡ taglist - @colpen​ ; @cestmoncoeur​ ; @hyucksberry​ ; @whorefortaeyong​ ; @jaeismytamtation ; @lexiluness​ ♡ a/n - sorry, but it didn’t let us tag some of you guys?? pls make sure your blog is visible to searches in order to get tagged !! let us know if you want to be on the taglist for the next ones!

Jeno,

This just seems ridiculous. I know that I’m a hopeless romantic and I know I fall easily, but of all the people in the world? You, my orientation leader.

Lee Jeno, 2nd year Computer Science major, uses him/his pronouns. I will never forget your hesitant wave, small smile, and way your eyes rose into crescents. I knew I had fallen for that eye smile immediately.

I’m pretty sure I made it obvious too, I was practically floating around you, doe-eyed to everything you did, and flustered whenever you said my name even if it was just for checking if the whole group was there.

Watching you walk around campus, passionately and happily explaining all the quirks of the campus, I wondered how going on a date with you would be like. I could imagine how excited you would be looking at the variety of flavors in an ice cream parlor. I even wondered if we would have the same favorite, though you do seem like you’d like strawberry over chocolate.

And of course, I made it worse by spilling my water all over you during lunch. You got up and just laughed, reassuring me that it wasn’t a big deal and it was just water but I was too embarrassed and flustered trying to find napkins. Yet, even though you were the one that got their pants wet, you still handed me a napkin.

My heart was going to burst out of my chest and it was so hard to stop every atom in my body to just run away in embarrassment.

Though this mindless, thoughtless crush only lasted maybe no more than two days, I still shoved my face into the pillow at night, giggling at how sugary sweet you made me feel, dreaming about how you would be like.

I wished that you were thinking about me into your pillow too.

-from the shy first year in your orientation group, y.n

It wasn’t everyday that you passed through the center of campus on a Wednesday. Wednesdays were when the clubs, fraternities and sororities boothed, bugging every student they saw to join their organization. But today, you were late for class and the fastest way to your lecture hall was through the courtyard.

With your earbuds on, you tried to blend and rush through the crowds, but so frequently students were chatting with their friends, creating walls. Getting annoyed, you tried your best to weave through. When someone suddenly swerves, you find yourself swinging to the left only to crash into someone else.

You start wobbling backwards, not able to fully regain balance, prepared to fall until someone else’s back bounces you onto your feet.

“Oh my bad, are you okay?” The quiet voice behind you asked.

Turning around, ready to apologize for your own clumsiness you face the dainty sweet eyes you haven’t thought about since first year.

Lee Jeno, second year - well now third year, computer science major, him/his. You could never forget his orientation introduction, it was the first thing he said to you. He made you forget everything, all the words you learned throughout your entire lifespan, the direction of your lecture, even how to breathe.

Now though, his jawline had become sharper and his shoulders definitely got broader. He was still reserved, but he wasn’t as shaky and nervous as before. Though he didn’t change much, the changes were subtle in the way he held himself. Shy, but comfortable with himself and everything around him. He wasn’t exactly the same as he was during orientation, but he was still similar, he had just grown up.

The letter you wrote comes into your mind. The sour sweet feelings repeat in your head, heart, and hands. You remember sighing at how fast your second letter came, disappointed in your hopeless romantic self for needing to write a letter before you even officially started college. At the same time, the sugary sweetness that he left as you wrote it still made your heart whirl.

“You okay?” he sounds concerned as he asks again, interrupting your thoughts. Realizing that you have been spacing out to his face for the past two minutes, you clear your throat.

“I-uh, yea!” Finding your voice again, hoping it doesn’t sound as skippy as it did in your head. “I’m sorry, I was just in a ru-”

“Oh my god, aren’t you, from my orientation group back in second year- oh well, I mean your first year or I guess even before that.” His eye smile starts growing as he rambles, causing the butterflies to flutter against your stomach more than they already had.

How could he possibly remember you? He had at least eight groups of 15 first years, how could he possibly remember you. You try to stop your eyes from widening and your cheeks from flushing, but his perfect laugh signals that he definitely saw your hesitation.

“I could never forget my first orientation group,” He nervously rubs the back of his neck. “I remember dreading the first day, I was so nervous.”

“Haha I think I was more nervous than you were.” You chuckled, completely abandoning the urgent lecture you had trading it for the conversation you two were having that was already far more words you both exchanged a year ago.

“Maybe,” he laughs. “Starting college is always a weird thing, it’s fun to start something fresh and new, but also so scary because it means change.”

Unable to form a response, you can tell that he also doesn’t know what to say next. The silence becomes unbearable, both of you wanting to say more, but unsure if the other wants to hear it.

“Uhm, care to join Uncief?” His shy eyes look away as he hands you the flyer.

You just laugh, remembering his awkward but soft personality. As you take the flyer, you remember taking the napkin from his hand when you spilled the water all over him.

You know that him handing you the flyer was just his job, but you can’t help but feel yourself regaining the warm feeling you had when you brush fingertips. It still felt like he was being kindhearted and considerate like he was with the napkin. The same burst of your heart in your chest replays, as if there were fireworks.

You wonder if he felt the sparks too.

Even now, your small but forceful crush on him still runs mindlessly through your head. He still sent electricity through your veins. His eyes still melted into yours, you still swore you saw the entire galaxy in them.

His shy, but kindhearted soul, even if you were just imagining it, still shined. The thought of him was just as prominent as it was during orientation.

“I’ll think about it,” You smile, but his sunshine laugh can tell that you probably won’t sign up or attend meetings.

“You should come to the meeting, we give out free pizza for the first two,” His voice raised a little, trying to convince you to come. “Or at least come hang out with me.”

You almost choke on your breath, surprised that he had asked you to hang out with him. You can’t tell if this is just something he says to everyone he flyers, or if he genuinely wanted to see you another time but that doesn’t stop the somersaults from swinging in your stomach.

Your mind roams to the idea of dating him again. Sharing a pizza together in the middle of big green fields on the campus - it just seemed so perfect. It didn’t seem so impossible to go on cute dates in between classes, studying together in the library, giggling during each other's lectures. Even though your thoughts were completely mindless and based on the little to no interactions you’ve had together, it seemed like a possible reality, not just a fantasy.

But his entire being was a fantasy. He really could be a dream in real life. His delicate eyes, soft lips, caring personality, kind soul. You never thought it was possible to meet someone who possessed everything you would ever want in someone.

“But actually, Unicef looks great on resumes and we do a lot of volunteer work too,” He points to the flyer for you, leaning in closer to you and snapping you out of your daydream. You try not to hold your breath with the proximity decreasing between the two of you. “And the people are actually pretty genuine and fun, even if it just sounds like a nerd org, I mean hey, I’m still in the club.”

“O-okay, I will genuinely think about it.” You finally make eye contact with him which he returns with his signature crescents.

“Alright, I won’t bother you anymore,” He smiles, placing a hand on your shoulder, looking you directly in the eyes. “It was nice seeing you again y.n, I hope you’re not spilling water on people still.”

You stand there in shock, not expecting him to ever remember your name. He sends you one last chuckle as he walks back to his booth.

You grip the flyer as if it was gonna slip through your fingers, just like Jeno had. You knew it was naive, but you hoped that the small shy smile that lingered on his face as he started chatting with the other members was because of you.

[emilycollins00]

Autumn and Winter troupes (can we request that many uff) reactions when you're on a date in an amusement park and you ask your bf to go on the biggest fastest slides there (I love those!). Thanks :3

Hello there! Thank you very much for the request love 💕  

I liked the idea of amusemente parks, wish I could go in those like you, they do look like they are so much fun! I’ve always been too afraid to though, fluffy rides are more my type in amusement parks.

Anyway, here you go, please enjoy!  💕

Autumn and Winter troupes going on fast attractions with s/o

🍁 Autumn troupe

Sakyo:  I think he would hope you were joking when you even considered asking him. It must have been years since he went to an amusement park and there was NO WAY he would step on those darning rides. Unless, of course, you puppy-eyed him. Which you totally did.

The moment the ride started to move, he shot you a warning look

“If my glasses dare to move even an inch from my face, Y/N, I swear you’re done for”

You gulped down, laughing nervously “Oh, come on Sakyo! If I went here alone and you stayed down alone I would not enjoy it… plus! I’m sure we are going to have an incredible time”

Pointless to say, after the ride you had to promise him to not coerce him into trying a similar attraction for as long as you lived.

You low-key didn’t mind.

Hearing him scream so loud had been kind of refreshing.

Banri: He wouldn’t expect anything else from you. You would try to ride in as many as you could. Then, due to the long waiting queue for the majority of them, you both would start challenging each other.

“I dare you to keep a straight face all the way down until the ride stops”

 “Oh? What’s this, sweet Y/N thinks she could win me at something?” he smirked “I dare you to yell in panic ‘why are those screws getting loose’ as the ride starts moving”

You squinted your eyes as you looked at him “…There’s something really bad going on in that head of yours”

 “So, you’re the one dating me. Bet?”

 “Deal”

Omi: I’m thinking that he would probably also offer to go with you once, just to try. Could be kind of romantic? I don’t know if you can do anything in a place like that but if someone is able to, that’s our Omi.

“I love the view when they let you see these few seconds before the drop!” you mentioned to him as you absorbed it. The attraction went pretty high so you were able to watch every part of the park

“You look like you’re enjoying yourself”

 “I am! Thanks for trying with me this new ride. I’m having so much fun!”

He laughed, squeezing the hand holding yours under the harness “I guess it was worth it if it made you smiled like this”

You widened your eyes, blushing. You opened your mouth to repay the compliment but shut it as the ride finally fell.

Omi, you sly gentleman

Taichi- I’d say he would beat you at asking to go to the fastest one. Looking at the information planner you two would try it so many times the workers might start getting worried.

“That… was amazing!! Y/N-chan” he turned to you, a big smile decorating his face “Let’s do it again!”

You looked at him, hair all over the place and still catching up breath “I don’t know Taichi, maybe we should stop…?”

After a few seconds of silence, you both laughed loudly before entering again.

Next day, you two had to stay at home due to headaches and dizziness. Maybe Sakyo was right and you two got a little bit too hyped.

Just maybe though

Juza I don’t think he usually goes to amusement parks so he might be a bit lost when you mention wanting to ride with him in the fastest attraction. Seeing you that excited though, would make him not care and just go for it.

“Have you ever gone on one of these before?”

“’Don’t remember last time I even came to a place like this so… ”

You pursed your lips together, thinking. Maybe we should just pass this one and go for ones that are less high. Or speedy. Or twisty

He noticed you about to suggest something other and shook his head when you started proposing to try others

"This is the ride we came here for, ain’t it? Let’s just go, you’ll feel bad if you leave without trying it” 

Touched, you hugged him “I love you so much”

Juza went still under your embrace. He wasn’t used to your love for physical touch yet (although definitely he loved it)

You laughed, backing away “Come on! It’ll be fun”

❄ Winter troupe

Tsumugi- He doesn’t strike me as someone who chooses slides, however, I don’t think he’d say no after seeing you being all enthusiastic, so he’d let you lead. It’s when the ride begins when he admits it was a bad idea.

“Oh, Tsumugi” you lamented as you watched his face turning pale “Why would you feel the need to lie and say to say you’re okay with something you aren’t?”

He was already closing his eyes, even though it hadn’t started yet  “I thought I could…you seemed so excited I didn’t find it in me to turn you down…”

As soon as the ride ended, you rushed him to throw up in the man’s bathroom and after he came back, you urged him to sit on the bench

“That was a bad decision and I’m mad at you but… thank you for doing it for me”

He smiled weakly, watching you fawn him with the flyer “It��� might take a while for me to get used to them”

“Tsugumi, that was not the goal of this conversation”

Hisoka: I think our boy here would go with the flow, not really caring about which ride you choose. And surprisingly, he would enjoy himself. Let’s not forget he’s used to moving with fast reflexes (or at least his body is).

“I’m so excited to try it! We have to thank Izumi-san for giving us the winning tickets in the shopping district… come on, Hisoka!” you pushed from behind, hurrying him up “If we are late the queue is going to take forever”

“Y/N… we got up really early to come, if there are more people… we can sleep while waiting…”

You pinched the bridge of your nose

“That’s not how amusement parks work, Hisoka”

Not listening to his requests, you both made it to the line which luckily wasn’t that long.

To your surprised, for someone who didn’t remember going to an amusement park, he handled fast slides pretty good.

“Y/N… Let’s go to another one…”

Needless to say, you discovered a new side of Hisoka too

Azuma: I would suggest to not get high expectations from him to join you regarding strong rides. Personally, I think you making him go to the amusement park would be a miracle on its own.

“Wow, I didn’t know they had one of those here!” you stopped walking as you marveled at the big attraction.

Azuma looked at it, one hand holding a parasol and the other yours “Looks nice, why don’t you try it?”

You turned to the man “…that sound as if you’re not coming?”

“Fufu, I think I will enjoy myself much more just by seeing your cute excited face from down here”

You sulked “Maybe we shouldn’t have come here… you’re not having that much fun, are you”

“That’s not true” the beautiful man reassured “I wouldn’t have suggested it unless I wanted, besides” he whispered in your ear “then we’ll have to go anywhere I say, right?”

You flushed, trying to not get tangled in his usual teasing. 

Homare: He would make SUCH a dramatic scene before entering but I can somewhat picture him as someone who would enjoy the ride.

“We soon shall bid our farewells to the current view before us. Oh, what a delightful sorrow!”

You looked at your boyfriend twirling as the ride stopped, letting the people out before you went inside

“Ah, here it is! Our destiny ride!”

“Homare? I’m happy to see you this thrilled, but I think you should calm down a bit”

He looked at you and smiled, taking your hand on his “My, if my precious Y/N says so I must oblige. Let us part into the unknown!”

You saw everyone looking askance at his theatrical poses and you couldn’t help but groan as you tried to keep putting put a stop to it

Still, you would be lying if you said it didn’t make the ride entertaining.

Tasuku- It’s not like he’s a fan of fast rides but if it makes you happy to enter, I don’t think he would have any trouble to go in with you. He knew you loved going to amusement parks so at least for that date, he would let you go with most things.

“Let’s go again!”

“Haven’t we ridden those already?” he stared at the big attractions you were pointing eagerly.

“Duh, that’s why I said again”

He looked up to the sky, defeated “…just this one. Let’s please go to eat something and then we can go again on how many slides you want”

"Okay!”

And so, he closed his eyes, taking your hand and letting you direct him to the very same queue you just had gone through.

______________________________________________________

This was fun! Hope you all enjoyed too.

Have a wonderful day! 💕

[the-starsabove-you]

The Spotlight

Chapter 20- Michelle, TK and the Fastest Skater.  A/N: Reviews are welcomed! Always love hearing your thoughts and stuff! I’ll be making an updated playlist of this series later and there’s a one shot coming later! Thank you guys for taking the time to read it!  Next chapter is the last All-Stars chapter before everything goes back to normal!  Michelle was strolling through the hallways towards the locker room. Mat’s mother asked if she could take pictures of Mat before the skills challenges started. Mat’s parents were sitting and saving her seat. The morning and afternoon was good, Michelle and Mat were being tourists with Mat’s parents. All of them finding a good place for lunch at a local cafe. Mat’s parents were in awe of how sweet and in awe Mat and Michelle were with each other. Michelle was wearing Mat’s jersey with black jeans and wedges along with a high ponytail. She was very excited to see Mat in the fastest skater challenge. She was rounding the corner and was ready to knock on the door until she bumped into a figure and she would had fallen until the person caught caught her and she was confused but didn’t fall and she saw the figure It was a man with brown hair up to his shoulder, he was wearing an orange jersey that Michelle knew that was the Flyers. Michelle had attended an Islanders and Flyers game once and was amazed by both teams. “Watch where you’re going” The man said and she gave him a look “You should be watching where you’re going” The man narrowed his eyes at her “What are you a fan? How did you get back here? Do I need to call someone to help you to your seat?” “I was allowed back here, I know how to read my ticket and seat number thank you very much. I’m here to see my boyfriend and take pictures of him.. His mom asked me to” “And I was just born yesterday.” The man said and Michelle narrowed her eyes “At least I’m not the one wearing the orange jersey.. Doesn’t fit you anyways” The man broke into a grin “You’re a bonehead” He laughed as he shook his head “Whose your boyfriend?” “Mat Barzal” She said and the man’s eyes widen “Michelle Wilson?” He asked and she nodded and the man looked at her and stuck his hand out “My name is Travis Konecny, my friends call me TK” “Nice to meet you TK” She said and he gave her a look “Woah since when were you my friend?” He asked and she narrowed her eyes playfully “Have I mentioned that I hate you TK?” She said and the man grinned before Michelle sighed “How did you know my name anyways?” “Word around the locker room was that Mat Barzal’s international supermodel girlfriend would be attending the event.. Some of us were actually wondering if it was true. Mat just nodded when a couple of guys asked him. I’ve been sitting next to him for all of this, we’ve become cool” “Is he still in there?” She asked and TK nodded “Should be out soon. I’ve seen pictures of you..” TK said observing her before shaking his head “You’re more pretty in the pictures” He joked and Michelle couldn’t help but laugh “You’re my new enemy. It’s final. The feud of the year.. Michelle vs TK” TK grinned “Does that mean we have to have some sort of social media war? I’m not really on so you would win” “I’ll find the first camera that’s point at me and I’ll express how much I hate you and you’re my sworn enemy” “I can’t wait for this feud to boil over” TK laughed as he grinned at her before sighing “I’m gonna head towards the benches so I could get a nice spot. Mat should be out soon, I’ll make sure I beat your boyfriend and then challenge you for fastest skater” “Oh you’re on.. I could beat Mat in the fastest skater.. I could take you down too.” Michelle joked and TK grinned, amused “Okay Bonehead, I’ll see you later at the club?” He asked and she nodded “We’ll have a drink” “Looking forward to it” TK grinned before bidding her farewell and taking his stick and heading towards the tunnel. Michelle leaned on the wall, waiting for Mat to come through the door. A couple of Hockey Players came through and their eyes widened as they spotted her. She would smile in greetings and they would smile back and some would wave. But Michelle would hear the mutters about her from them. The door opened and out came a man with a green jersey that had a star in the middle. He was tall with brown hair. He did a double take on her before closing the door and making his way towards her “Hi” The man said and Michelle smiled “Hi, Michelle” She said and the man shook her hand “Oh I know who you are. I like your work” He said before clearing his throat “Tyler Seguin, I play for the Dallas Stars” “Nice to meet you Tyler. Thank you” She said and Tyler smirked “Of course.. I had always wondered when I would be meeting you face to face. I just didn’t expect to meet you here” He said and Michelle nodded “I’m here supporting my boyfriend” She said smiling, thinking of Mat and Tyler nodded “Have I also mentioned you're prettier in person? The camera doesn’t lie for sure” Tyler said and Michelle nodded “I’ve been told that” She grinned and Tyler couldn’t help but grin “Glad you know it then, you’re truly beautiful” Before Tyler could keep up with his flirting, someone cleared their throat and Tyler looked back and Michelle looked to see that Mat was standing in the open doorway with another player. Mat looked very unimpressed with Tyler as he was tapping the top of his stick and Tyler grinned “Hey Mat, was just introducing myself to Michelle over here” Tyler said and Mat gave him a look “I see that.” He said and Tyler was just grinning as he nodded “I’ll see you at the benches” He said before looking over and winking at Michelle “Hopefully I get to see you around” Without a word, he strolled off to the benches. Mat literally glaring daggers at him before wrapping an arm around Michelle’s waist and kissing her head “Hey, everything okay?” He asked and she nodded “I just came back here because your mom wanted a picture of you before you go out there” She said and Mat nodded before turning to the player next to him “Michelle, this is Seth Jones. He plays for the Blue Jackets. One of my favorite players too” Mat grinned as Seth nudged him playfully “Oh shut it” He said before shaking Michelle’s hand “Mat’s told me great things about you” He said and Michelle grinned “I hope so, otherwise he’s sleeping on the sofa tonight” “Oh ouch” Mat pretended to be hurt before Seth chuckled “She’s your match, Barzy.” Seth said while both Mat and Michelle blushed. “Was anyone else giving you trouble?” Mat asked and Michelle shook her head “Although, can you hit TK with your stick or something. He called me a bonehead” He said and Mat gave her a look “What did you do to him?” “What I did to him?! You should be asking what he’s done to me!” Michelle said before crossing her arms “He assumed I was a fan sneaking in the back” She said and he grinned “Well aren’t you a fan of me?” He asked and she gave him a look “I’m going to kill you Barzal, Seth is gonna have to escort you to the ER” “Hey I won’t be messing with her” Seth held his hands up and Mat grinned before looking over at the tunnel “Alright, I need to get to the benches soon.” He said before Michelle took out her phone and Mat stood proudly and was smiling at the camera. Michelle ushering Seth into the pictures too and both guys were grinning. “Come on Love birds, I’m sure the parents will be happy to have a picture of you guys too” He said as Mat wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her closer as both smiled widely before Mat leaned forward to kiss Michelle in which Seth snapped a picture and handed the phone to Michelle “Okay Mat, we gotta get going” “Alright, I’ll see you after my thing.” Mat said leaning down to kiss Michelle before the guys were being ushered into the tunnel and Michelle rushed towards the seats and saw Mat’s parents waving at her before Michelle sat beside Mat’s mom “How was it?” Mat’s mom asked and Michelle nodded “It was good! Met some players and was hanging with Mat for a bit” The three of them were watching the introductions of each player coming out and then the fastest skater was happening. Each player being introduced and Mat’s parents and Michelle cheering the loudest for Mat. TK and Mat were skating towards the bench and TK saw Michelle and grinned before turning to Mat to say something in which Mat laughed. Michelle giving TK a look in which TK grinned back. Michelle was clapping for each skater but pretended to boo for TK. Who pretended to look offended as he skated off. Soon Mat was on and Michelle was grinning and he looked over at his parents and her and he smiled softly while the three of them smiled and waved back. Soon the timer went off and Mat was skating as fast as possible. Michelle getting out of her seat and cheering for him as she watched him move with grace. She always loved to watch him skate. Michelle clapped and cheered when Mat went through the finish line. He was in the lead now and Michelle was smiling. She saw Mat was relaxing at the bench as he was watching everyone else go, winking at Michelle when he could. Finally Connor McDavid was up, Michelle looking on nervously but Mat was still relaxed. She watched Connor skating and even his parents were curious and Michelle’s eyes widen when she saw that Connor got to the finish line but didn’t beat Mat’s time and Mat had won. Michelle got out of her seat and was jumping up and down, Mat’s parents joining as they stood up and clapped and they watched the players surrounding Mat and cheering for him as Mat was laughing and smiling. Michelle was smiling widely and she watched as Mat and the other players were walking back to the locker room to make room for the next challenge Michelle was watching the challenges and soon the girls were going to take the ice and have their game. Michelle got a text from Mat for her and his family to come towards the locker room area. Michelle and Mat’s parents met Mat near the locker room and Mat brought Michelle into a tight hug and he lifted her up the ground and spun her around. Michelle grinning and Mat put her down and brought her into a kiss “I knew you would win” She mumbled and Mat smiled “Really?” “I’m always going to cheer for you Mat, no matter what” Mat’s parents smiled as they joined the hug and soon Mat brought them into a room where everyone was hanging out. Some of the players relaxing with their families and others were watching the game with grins. Michelle was sitting on Mat’s lap as they were speaking with Mat’s parents. At the corner of his eye, Mat saw the Tkachuk Brothers looking at Michelle and suddenly Mat became more self-aware. He didn’t know that Michelle would be getting such attention. Sure, Michelle was a famous model but didn’t expect players to just be looking at her. Mat knew TK’s interactions with Michelle were harmless, TK came towards Mat at the bench and told him about the interaction and TK even joked that Michelle was an annoying sister to him. But he got nervous when he walked out the door with Seth and saw Tyler openly flirting with Michelle. He would have been alarmed if Michelle didn’t mention Mat as her boyfriend or if she started flirting back with Tyler. But Mat didn’t worry at all, he was very calm but wanted to tell Tyler off to leave her alone. He had noticed that some of the players were looking at Michelle, but if she wasn’t worrying or saying anything about it.. He had nothing to worry about. He wouldn’t be afraid to punch a guy or two if they started flirting or made her feel uncomfortable. “You’re ready to go?” Michelle said and Mat snapped out of his thoughts and looked at her “Sorry babe, I was lost in thought” He said before Michelle nudging his leg with her own “I said the girls are finishing their game.. Ready for the last challenge before we meet the players at the club?” “Yeah, sorry” Mat said before kissing her cheek and she got up and Mat’s parents smiled “You guys are so cute” His father said his mother nodded in agreement “You guys are a very nice match.. It is nice to see Mat so relaxed and happy with someone and understands his life style” She said and Michelle nodded “Thank you, he’s very special to me and I’m very happy with him. I know with both of us traveling and both of us working, it will be hard at times but we’ll make it” “I know sweetheart” Mat’s mom winked. Mat’s parents and Michelle went back to their seats while Mat hung out with Seth and Auston. TK close by. All of them watching with grins on their faces as players had to shoot the puck from a higher level. Once the event was over. Mat’s parents bid Mat and Michelle a farewell before returning to their hotel room. Mat held Michelle’s hand as everyone was in the garage, some hockey players with their partners and others were just chatting with others. Mat squeezed her hand as he led her towards Seth and TK. Who were chatting until TK saw Michelle “It seems like I couldn’t beat your boyfriend, bonehead. I’ll do it next time for sure” TK greeted and Michelle greeted as they fist bumped each other “Now I gotta kick his ass and I’ll take his fastest skater title” “Oh really?” Mat said with an eyebrow raised and Michelle nodded proudly until Mat grinned and kissed her head “You’re cute” Seth chuckled and he hugged Michelle in greeting before greeting Mat. “Ready to have the night of our lives and party?” “Let’s do this” Michelle grinned as a couple of people started filing into cars. Auston Matthews nodded his head to Michelle in greeting and she smiled back. Michelle and Chris Kreider high fiving and talking about favorite places to eat while they were waiting for cars. Mat’s arm around his girlfriend’s arm. Soon a car came for them and Mat, Michelle and TK piled into the back while Seth went to the front. A majority of the car ride was Michelle and TK bickering as TK would try to wiggle for more room and Michelle pushing him so she could have more room. Mat watching the two with amusement. Mat, Michelle, Seth and TK got out of the car and were walking into the club. Michelle in awe of how big the club was and she was grinning “This is like a Gatsby party” “Lots of people” TK noted and Seth nodded “I like it” “Why?” Mat asked and Michelle turned to him “A lot of people.. Makes some interactions intimate” she whispered and Mat nodded “You’re right” He muttered. The club started getting more busy as hockey players and partners were filing in. Soon the dance floor was crowded with so many people and Michelle grabbed Mat’s hand and led him into the dance floor and they danced in the middle of the dance floor, Mat and Michelle not worrying over anything because of the fact the club was packed. They were young and carefree adults, dancing the night away with each other. Mat kissed Michelle softly and Michelle deepened the kiss and she broke the kiss and looked at him, her eyes half closed “Wanna head back to the hotel now?” He was smirking “I do deserve some kind of prize for winning fastest skater” He said and she narrowed her eyes playfully “Alright, Pretty Boy. Let’s go” They said their goodnights to everyone and retreated back to their hotel room.

[dynamesvirtue]

Magnus for the character thing 👀

How I feel about this character: He is BRILLIANT, he is AMAZING. What an asshole bitch... but I still love him LOL

All the people I ship romantically with this character: MagnusxBailee  👀 MagnusxAbigail MagnusxNathan

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I’m assuming a BROTP so MagnusxMurderface hands down. 

My unpopular opinion about this character: That I love him??? Also he deserves to be alive and well and healthy

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: Fucking LIVE

my OTP: MagnusxBailee sorry I don’t make the rules here. 

my cross over ship: I...idk why but Starlord/ Peter QuillxMagnus came to mind?? 

a headcanon fact: Lol I don’t have one:

He was raised by his mom (who’s a single mom because his parents got divorced a little after he was born and the dad was never in his life after that.) And she was alcoholic who ignored her son because he reminded her of his father, which is why he’s seeks attention and approval.

From Lebanon, part Arabic/Italian in him. 

And a reason why he’s the third worlds fastest guitarist is that, whenever he plays something that doesn’t go right or he doesn’t like, he has a huge fit and doesn’t play again until he calms down, and we know it takes a long time for him to calm down.

Magnus came to the United States when he was 13-14. He couldn’t stand his mom’s neglectfulness and how much everything he did reminded him of his fucked up father. From there, he surprising worked hard in school.  (Mainly a B average.) He stayed in New York at the time, where he had a distant relative lend him a room. 

For College, he went to Berklee in Boston. (Yes College. Magnus is a smart man so I assume he went to College, but never fully got a degree.)

After having a bad day and being kicked out of multiple bars for his anger problems, Magnus just found a guitar in the dump and started repairing it, which lead to him playing it and being self taught. And that’s when he realized it eased his stress and anger. Until he got frustrated and gave up. But he always returned to it cause he liked the way it made him feel.

His Birthday is October 27th. 

When Skiwsgaar first joined the band, Magnus helped him with his english because he understood the language barrier, from when he first entered the states.

Before being recruited by Dethklok, Magnus was pretty well known in the underground music. He would play for various groups, but never stuck with any of them because he felt they were mediocre compared to him. . 

When Magnus agreed to be part of dethklok, The band (minus Pickles) were ecstatic to have him.

Magnus was aware of Pickles time in Snakes N Barrels, but was weary of his drumming skills. Seeing that he was a  80’s Glam rock singer prior to Dethklok. 

Murderface was his biggest fan before Magnus joined Dethklok. He would sneak off from his grandparents house to go to the shows he was playing at. Magnus is partially the reason why Murderface started to play the bass, because he hoped that one day he’ll play with Magnus. 

Nathan and Magnus would butt heads often usually due to creative input. But nonetheless they both had a neutral respect for each other.

Magnus and Charles didn’t interact much, but Magnus would always try to be calm around him. He was the one guy that Magnus didn’t want to piss off.

Magnus isn’t much of a sweet tooth. In Lebanon, most of the treats were dark chocolate or tart. So he never really liked the sweets Americans made.

One of Magnus’ fears is Athazagoraphobia, fear of being forgotten, ignored, or abandon. 

Post-Dethklok? I was thinking after he left, he tried to join/form another band, even produced some songs for other bands as a songwriter. but again the anger issue was the problem and got him nowhere. No one would tolerate him as long as Dethklok did. So he went on to do his own music lessons, teaching kids but would get angry at them for not playing HIS way. Obviously that didn’t go well so he went into minimum wage jobs, like Working at the Grocery store, cashiers/servers at restaurants (not fast food places, he’ll never stoop that low according to him). After tired from his day to day job, he eventually found a flyer for Rock-a-rooni fantasy camp. Yes I’m sure he did get recognized by his involvement in The Hammer, but also because of when he was a songwriter for other bands.

[groundzerobakugo]

time // hawks

  gender in this imagine will be female. if you wish for me to create this with male or genderneutral pronouns please feel free to send a message my way! i would be happy to help!

word count: 4.2k

warning: suicide attempt due to traumatic event. 

summary: because of your quirk, you’ve isolated yourself away from other; not to protect them, but rather yourself. after an attempt on your life, you meet hawks--the first person who wiggles his way into your life.

...

  you untied your apron, tossing it into the hamper. you despised the long shifts at the coffee shop, but with your boss’s time running out to be with his family, you were understanding enough to take up the shifts he needed covered. you supposed it was one way you could use your quirk usefully--giving those who were about to die time to spend with their loved ones. but, it was awfully draining.

  “good work today!” one of your coworkers called.

  you thanked them with a wave of your hand on your way out.

  the sky had turned into a swirl of violets, pinks, and oranges with the setting sun, a light breeze filtering through the air. small puddles from the early-morning rain still lingered in the streets, and you were thankful for the boots on your feet keeping the chilling water away from your socks.

  27 years; 48 days; 13 minutes.

  6 years; 52 days; 17 minutes.

  3 days; 33 minutes; 14 seconds.

  you sighed to yourself upon seeing the clocks. 

  since you could remember, you could see the time people had left. how many years they had left to live their lives to the fullest, how many days they had left to go on their last adventures, how many minutes they had left until they had to tell everyone they held dear they loved them, how many seconds until they took their last breaths. 

  the only clock you couldn’t see was your own.

   you had hidden yourself away, locked in your bedroom and choosing not to make friends at school. you didn’t want to get attached to people you knew would die, when they would die. it never made sense to get close to someone you could lose.

  when you quirk had manifested, you believed you were doing people a kindness, telling them how long they had left on earth. the grandmother that lived on your street only had a few years, the police detective had several days, and a child you met from across the street only had a couple hours. you told them shamelessly, unaware that you were only causing anxiety. it wasn’t until your mother told you that you were hurting people that you stopped. from then on, you suffered in silence.

  it lasted through your childhood, to your teenage years, and even as you became an adult, you were still wary of the world. but, with your own mother’s clock dwindling down, you knew you had to leave before time ran out.

  “mom?” you answered your phone, cradling it in between your ear and shoulder as you fished for your keys through your purse.

  “(name)! don’t you know not to make a sick woman worry?” came the hoarse voice from the speaker.

  you sighed, twisting open the lock and letting yourself into the small and lonely apartment. “sorry, i’ve been at work all day. how are you feeling?”

  there was a small, stifled cough. “i’ve been okay. the doctors say i’m getting better.”

  your heart panged--it was a lie. “th-that’s good, mom.”

  “but, what about you? any new friends, maybe a boyfriend? girlfriend?”

  “you know i don’t....”

  “(full name), you need friends! you need to socialize! you don’t want to die alone do you?”

  you dropped your purse and keys by the door, plopping down onto the couch in the living room. “mom, that’s not the point. i just... i don’t want to get attached to someone only to have them die.”

  your mother groaned. “everyone dies, regardless if you can see how much longer you have with them or not. you know i hate you’re doing this. i know you can tell how much longer someone has left to... live, but isolating yourself and thinking that it will protect you is a lonely life. i just want to see you be happy.”

  “i am happy,” you mumbled.

  “are you, (name)?” asked your mother.

  silence passed over the phone.

  she sighed. “i need to make dinner. i love you.”

  “love you, too.” and you hung up.

  your mother was your only friend seeing as your father left before you were born, she was the only person you permitted into your room, the only one you shared your thoughts with, the only one you felt understood you and your quirk. but you knew the time left you had with her was short. it was one of the reasons you had moved out. you couldn’t remember how much longer she had, but you knew it was less than a month.

  you called her every single day.

~

  you stumbled up the stairs, alcohol coursing through your veins. you had gotten a call from your mother’s doctor at work; unfortunately, she had passed in the ambulance, and they paramedics weren’t able to resuscitate her. you knew it was coming, you knew that she wasn’t going to get over her sickness. and yet, it still hurt just as bad.

  the winds were wild and chilled as you stepped out onto the roof. the rain continued to come down hard, washing away your tears. it always seemed to rain at times like these.

  “why? why did she have to die?” you cried, clambering up onto the ledge. 

  the tips of your toes hung over, your body swaying with the wind as you stood overlooking the city of musutafu. you felt numb. with your mother’s passing, you were truly alone. you didn’t have a family anymore; you didn’t have any grandparents that you kept in contact with, no cousins, aunts, or uncles. it was just you. would anyone miss you if you jumped?

  no, you supposed not. you’d never had any friends or anyone to check up on you. your boss and coworkers might question why you stopped showing up to work, your neighbors might question why they won’t see you in the halls anymore, and the heroes you served during their patrols might question why they haven’t seen your face anymore.

  tears dribbled down, and you shut your eyes. “i’m sorry.” you tilted forward, beginning to fall.

  hawks sat perched on a rooftop, a small bucket of chicken in the crook of his arm. he munched away happily, his eyes scanning the city for any trouble. it was a slow night, no major villains to fight or robbers to catch. he was somewhat bored, to be honest. but, at least he could eat his chicken in peace; it was a rarity in its own.

  one wing hung over his head, protecting him from the downpour, the other tucked behind his back. cleaning his feathers was going to be a pain, but it didn’t take him too long.

  he supposed he should at least fly around for a little bit. maybe there were villains in dark alleys, after all. that is where some crawled about. he might even run into dabi again, the burnt raisin was always causing trouble.

  hawks shook out the excess water from his wings and took off.

  wind filtered through his wings, a slight chill shivering through his body at the rain drizzling through his feathers. rainy nights weren’t the best for flying, but hawks didn’t mind it. it was refreshing, really.

  he flew over musutafu, eyes sharp as he looked around for evil-doers. but, what he hadn’t expected was to see a figure stood on the roof just a few hundred feet away. he squinted. he hadn’t enough time to see if they were a hero searching for villains just as he was, watching the figure begin to fall forward.

  hawks’s eyes widened, “wait!” he urged his wings to fly as fast as they could, darting through the rain and wind quicker than he ever thought he could. he could feel his cheeks getting windburn, but the adrenaline coursing through him prohibited him from feeling it.

  his heart raced in his chest, and he angled his body, arms reaching out towards the falling figure. the ground kept getting closer and closer, and a part of him worried he wouldn’t reach them in time--but, he was hawks, the fastest flyer in the whole world. he would make it, he had to.

~

  you gasped, sitting upright and blinking wildly as your eyes adjusting to the bright lights around you. you sat in a hospital bed with the curtain pulled back, and the room smelling of sanitizer and a little like bleach. there was a faint throb in your left hand, and you looked down to see a small cast around it. memories filtered through, and the last thing you could remember was jumping off a roof. but... if that was true, how did you end up in a hospital?

  “oh, you’re finally awake. good morning,” a nurse greeted as she walked into the room.

  “what happened...?”

  she took the chart at the edge of your bed and looked it over as she checked your vitals. “according to your hero, you fell off a roof. luckily, he saw you just in time and saved your life.”

  a hero... saved your life? “oh,” you muttered.

  “he’s been hovering outside the hall for a while waiting for you to wake up,” she said. “should i send him in?”

  should she? you didn’t want to be rude, but you never asked to be saved, either. all you wanted was to die and join the one person you allowed yourself to get close to.

  “miss?”

  “uh, ye-yeah,” you mumbled.

  the nurse smiled. “of course. i’ll go get him right now.” and she left the room.

  you wriggled back against the pillows, attempting to get comfortable. a sigh escaped your lips, and you looked outside the window. the sun was shining, despite the rain that brought gloomy clouds for the past few days, a few birds flitting past. you fidgeted with your hands, and your fingers picked at the cast on your wrist.

  the door opened, and you looked to see a man with large, red wings tucked behind his back. he had windswept blond hair and lively golden eyes, body clad in a t-shirt and jeans. you recognized his face from the news--the number two hero, hawks. but you could also see his clock. 11 months; 5 days; 19 hours.

  he smirked at you. “good morning.”

  a blush rose to your cheeks. “mo-morning.”

  “good to see you’re doin’ okay.” he took a seat next to your bed. “sorry about your wrist, they said i broke it when i caught you. but! don’t worry, i’ll be paying for everything.”

  “th-that’s not necessary. you... you saved my life, so, uh, thanks, i guess.” you looked down at your fidgeting hands once more, unable to look at the pro-hero next to you. “b-but i do have to ask. why?”

  the man hummed. “why what?”

  you looked up at him, tears brimming your eyes. “why would you save me? i... i wanted to die.”

  he quirked a brow. “and why would you want to do that? you’re young, or look it at least, you have so much life ahead of you. don’t you have family or friends?”

  “no, i don’t,” you replied simply.

  “i’m sure that’s not true,” he said.

  “you don’t even know me.” your heart rate picked up with your anger. “i don’t have family, my mother just died, i don’t know my father, i don’t have any relatives. i don’t have friends, and i know that for sure because i avoid making them.”

  hawks’s eyes glinted with curiosity. “oh? why’s that?”

  “you’re awfully nosey,” you muttered.

  he snorted. “so i’ve heard. but, i saved your life, didn’t i? i should be able to ask some questions. maybe if i hear enough, i won’t save you next time.”

  you paused, staring up at him. well, he had a point, kind of? right? “my quirk... i....”

  “do you have a villainous quirk or something? want to protect people by not being around them?”

  you glared. “opposite, actually. i want to protect myself. i can see how long a person has left to live, and why get attached when i know someone’s going to die?”

  hawks laughed aloud at this.

  heat rose to your cheeks. “wh-why are you laughing at me?!”

  “everyone dies. regardless if you can see how much time you have left with them or not. that’s a stupid reason to not make friends,” he said. his words rang in your head, soundly oddly familiar. “in my line of work, people die all the time. doesn’t stop me from making friends. it’s sad, but at least i can be happy for a little while.”

  “that’s stupid,” you grumbled.

  “no, you’re stupid. and to prove it to you, i’m going to be your friend,” he grinned.

  your mouth opened and closed, words failing to come to your aid.

  “ah, speechless already?”

  “would you shut up? i don’t want friends,” you said.

  “too bad. because you’ve got one now.”

~

  for the number two hero, hawks sure had a lot of time to get under your skin.

  you thought maybe you could avoid him, as he would be plenty busy fighting bad guys and catching villains. he surely couldn’t have this much time on his hands? showing up at your work constantly and hovering around you on your walk home.

  “do you ever do your job?” you quirked a brow. your eye twitched as he continued to fly circles around you while you walked.

  he grinned. “just check the hero news updates. i’m just too good.”

  “you’re pretty cocky,” you grumbled.

  “you say that like it’s a bad thing,” he replied.

  you groaned. “why can’t you just leave me the hell alone already?”

  he pouted. “but we’re friends.”

  “no the hell we aren’t.”

  “yes the hell we are.”

  “we aren’t.”

  “are.”

  “aren’t.”

  “are.”

  “aren’t.”

  “aren’t.”

  “are.”

  he stopped flying, looking at you with wide eyes.

  “wh-what?”

  and then he started to laugh. “i can’t believe it. it totally fucking worked, you said we are friends.”

  “oh, go to hell.”

~

  the nightlife is musutafu was something you hated, at least with the area near your apartment. getting a place for so cheap in such a big city didn’t allow for much luxury, and you lived in the dingier part of town unfortunately. usually you had hawks hanging over your shoulder, talking your ear off, but he hadn’t shown his face all day.

  but, it looked like you would be walking home alone. you’d done it a dozen times before, it had never been a problem before. it was just... odd, not having hawks. you wouldn’t say you missed him, you couldn’t. he was an annoying, bothersome, cocky, know-it-all asshole who pestered you every waking moment. no. you did not miss hawks--no way.

  you walked past one of the bars, the neon lights illuminating the sidewalk. even from outside, you could hear the loud music and the high-volume chatter of the drunkards inside. you rolled your eyes and walked faster, but, you were stopped as something draped across your shoulder.

  “hey there, gorgeous,” a voice slurred in your ear.

  you recoiled in disgust, and you shrugged his arm off, sending the drunk man a glare. “no thanks.”

  the man laughed. “don’t be like that. we could have fun, you know?” he slung his arm around your shoulder once again.

  “no,” you snapped.

  “oh, come on, you don’t have to play hard to get with me.” his breath reeked of heavy liquor, and your nose scrunched up.

  “get the fuck away from me, fuckhead.” you pushed his arm off once again. “no means fucking no, understand?”

  the man’s face hardened. “the fuck did you just say to me, bitch?”

  his fist connected with your cheek, and you flew backwards, hitting the wall behind you. you felt the air in your lungs being knocked out, and you gasped in pain. he advanced towards you and gripped the collar of your work uniform; he lifted your form against the wall as you struggled against his hold.

  “let go of me,” you spoke through clenched teeth.

  “shut up!” he shoved you harder, his fist pressing into your chest and making it hard to breathe.

  your stomach dropped and tears welled up in your eyes. “pl-please--”

  “oi, dipshit.”

  hawks stood just a few feet away; his feet planted firmly on the ground, wings tucked behind his back, and his arms crossed over his chest. one brow was raised, with his lips curling into a scowl. relief flooded through you, but it was a passing feeling as the drunkard’s eyes narrowed.

  “get lost, pal, find yourself some other bitch to fuck,” he growled.

  hawks’s scowl deepened. “wanna repeat that?”

  the man rolled his eyes. “i said, get los--”

  his fist fell away from your chest, and you dropped to the ground. you coughed, hands clutching at your chest struggling to breathe, eyes wide with fear as you stared with a blank expression. you weren’t even listening as hawks knocked the drunk on his ass and scolded him, but rather replaying the past thirty seconds in your head.

  if hawks hadn’t shown up, what would have happened? would he have knocked you unconscious and kidnapped you? would he have killed you? would he have--a hand touched your shoulder, and you jumped, eyes darting up to meet familiar golden irises glimmered over with concern.

  “(name), you alright?” his voice was soft, a tone so unlike his usual self with you.

  “i...,” your bottom lip quivered.

  hawks frowned. “i’ll take you home.”

  all you could do was nod.

  the small flight was short, and you numbly unlocked your door and let hawks into your apartment. it was a bit of a mess, but you didn’t mind. all you really wanted to do was go wash up and pretend that the event earlier had never happened. but, you also didn’t want hawks to leave you.

  so, as he turned while saying goodnight, you reached out for his hand in a blind haste. “don’t go. please.”

  hawks was taken aback. but, he nodded nonetheless. he understood why you wouldn’t want to be left alone, and while there was an entire city to protect, he wouldn’t let you down--not again, at least.

  “please,” you whispered.

  he gave a small smile and nodded. “i won’t.”

  and to his word, as you left your bathroom in fresh clothes with clean hair, the number two hero was seated on your couch, a spare book from your coffee table in hand as he disinterestedly skimmed through it. it was a self-help book gifted by your late mother, one you never even cracked open as you thought it was stupid--the sentiment was nice enough for you, though, to keep it.

  his golden hues met yours, and you offered a small smile. “you stayed.”

  “i said i would,” he replied.

  you looked down, shifting on your feet with unease. “uh, thanks. i just, i don’t really feel safe, i know i won’t be able to sleep at all tonight, and that stuff has never happened to me before, and i’m scared that he might come back, or that he has friends who’ll come after me, and--”

  “(name).”

  gold and (eye color) met again.

  “i’m not leaving. you’re safe. plus, it would be stupid for them to come after the number two hero’s best friend, don’t you think?” his eyes twinkled as he grinned.

  “just a little bit,” you said in a quiet voice. you tentatively took a seat beside him, a safe distance between the two of you with your eyes trained on a stray piece of thread at the hem of your t-shirt. “i... i also wanted to apologize.”

  hawks’s brows furrowed. “what for?”

  “the way i’ve been treating you.”

  “it’s fine,” he shrugged.

  “it’s not.” you looked over at him. “i’ve been, well, to put it simply, a bitch to you, and you’ve never been anything but nice to me, hawks. though, i don’t know if you’re that kind of person or just incredibly stupid, because nothing i’ve said to you in the past has been friendly, and you just referred to me as your best friend. and--let me finish,” you said, noticing how he opened his mouth to say something. “and the truth is i found myself missing you. even before that guy showed up, and that bad stuff happened, and well, maybe all your shit worked.”

  “hang on, hang on, say that again,” he said.

  “what? maybe your shit worked?”

  “no, no, a little further back.”

  “before the guy showed up and shit happened?”

  “just before that.”

  “oh, i--” your cheeks reddened. “no.”

  hawks scooched in close to you, his shoulder nudging you. “come on, i just want to hear it one more time.”

  “hawks....”

  “please? pretty, pretty please? with a cherry on top?”

  “you’re pushing your luck, birdbrain,” you grumbled.

  he huffed. “(name)... please?”

  “oh, shove off,” you hid a smile as you pushed him away. 

  you took a glance at your window, the blinds cracked open and the city lights peeking in against the night sky. your mouth opened to say something, but a squeak came out as you felt a feather-soft touch on your cheek.

  you quickly looked at hawks, his golden irises peering into your (eye color) ones. “hawks,” you said in a shaky breath. “what are you doing?” was he going to kiss you? he was leaning in, getting closer and closer--he must be. oh god, what the hell are you even supposed to do? you’ve never had a friend, so count out a first kiss. you licked your lips.

  were you even opposed to kissing hawks? after what happened not even an hour or so ago, it seemed like you should be. but... you weren’t? he was attractive, that much was definitely true. he’d been nothing but kind, always dismissing your rude attitude towards his friendliness, and he was overall a good person--he was a hero, for all might’s sake, it was in the job description. 

  but, over the past couple months, maybe you developed feelings for the number two hero. he always knew what to say to make you crack a grin, even if you fought hard to hide it. he never let you walk home alone, and he kept you company even when you didn’t want it. so, maybe you did want to kiss him.

  your eyes fluttered close, and you held your breath.

  “the bruise on your cheek should heal in a week or so,” he said. his hand left your cheek, and he shifted back, your eyes snapping open.

  “oh,” you muttered, gaze flitting back to the window. “i thought... never mind.” did you really think he was going to kiss you?

  hawks’s brow quirked upward. “what? what’s wrong?”

  “nothing,” you said quickly and stood up. “um, i think i’m going to go to bed. i’m--”

  “(name).”

  “--pretty tired after the day i had, and--”

  “(name).”

  “you know, you’re a hero so--”

  “(name), please.”

  “you should probably be out patrolling and doing hero things and stuff, so, uh, goodnight.” you turned to head into your bedroom, eyes stinging with the threat of tears. but not even five steps across the living room did you feel a hand grab yours to stop you. you didn’t turn around, keep your head lowered.

  “(name), look at me.”

  you shook your head.

  “look at me, please.”

  hesitantly, you turned, your eyes glancing up at the winged hero. “what, hawks?”

  “what’s wrong, (name)?” he usual grin absent, replaced with a frown.

  “nothing, i’m tired,” you replied.

  “no, something’s up,” he said.

  “nothing’s up. leave it be.”

  “i’m not going to leave it be. you seem, well, upset about something, and as a friend i can’t leave it alone.” his grip tightened on your hand, wings unfurling slightly as his feathers ruffled.

  you sighed. “i’m just tired. and--”

  he scoffed. “i don’t buy that. just twenty minutes ago you said you wouldn’t be able to sleep. (name), please--”

  “i thought you were going to kiss me,” you said in a rushed, quiet voice, pulling your hand out of his and turning your gaze to the floor.

  “what? i didn’t actually catch a word of that,” he replied.

  “i said,” your voice just a tad louder, “i thought you were going to kiss me, but i realize that was a stupid thing to think, and it’s kind of pathetic, and i don’t even know if, well--” 

  you were interrupted as you felt something warm press firmly against your lips, hawks’s fingers tucked under your chin.

  you backed away quickly with wide eyes. “wh-what was that?”

  “that’s what you wanted, right?” he asked, his voice low.

  your fingers brushed against your lips. “well, i-i... i think so?”

  “(name), i wanted to kiss you, i still do. but, i know it isn’t right. not... not now, anyway, after what just happened,” he said.

  “oh,” you mumbled. “i... i guess you’re right. but, well... never mind, doesn’t matter.”

  a small smile pulled the corners of his mouth up. “unless, you really did want to kiss me.”

  your cheeks heated.

  “all you gotta do is tell me, (name),” he said.

  you squeaked. “but--”

  “no, consent is important.”

  “this is coming from the same guy who interrupted me to kiss me,” you grumbled.

  “(name).”

  “fine. i want to kiss you, hawks.” you said with pink dusted across your face.

  “see? that wasn’t so hard,” he teased.

  you huffed. “just shut up and kiss me, birdbrain.”

  “whatever you say, baby bird.” and you were met with his soft lips kissing yours once again.

...

  there will be a part two, so please be patient!

[averagedoctor]

I don't know how many asks you have... but is there a possibility of a fic based at an airport/on a plane, maybe the reader's never flown before or is afraid of it? I'm going overseas and I've got like a 17 hour flight like the day after tomorrow and I'm not personally afraid of flying, and I remember being on a plane a while ago, but I was just hoping for a bit of fluffiness around that idea? Okay if it comes after I've gone though, will still enjoy it any day. Thanks if you do! :)

OH MAN THIS IS OLD I am terribly sorry because I really had wanted to get this out soon after your flight… except it’s now been 10 months or so since then bUT I hope you enjoy this nonetheless!!

11th doctor x reader

Pronouns: gender neutral

Word count: 3,342

TWs: none?

Tagging: @evyiione

Summary: Saying that you’re sort of a nervous flier would be an understatement but luckily there’s a man kind enough to help you on your trip

A/N: The specific hatred and feelings from planes is totally me imposing myself on this story oops

Round trip

All around you, people were rushing about, trying to get to their gates as fast as they possibly could. It was an ungodly hour in the morning and here you were at an airport, people watching to take your mind off things as the clock ticked down. Your flight was in about an hour so you were sitting in the waiting area, luggage at your side. Nerves twisted in your stomach and you felt like you were going to be sick. You hated flying, which made flying alone so much more worse. If there was any other way that you could take this trip, you would do it in a heartbeat.

Flying scared you and you didn’t like the sensations that accompanied it, like your ears popping. You wouldn’t consider yourself claustrophobic, but being in a limited size vessel, in the air, with no actual way of bailing out if necessary, with terrifying. It baffled you that people were able to stand it and more so able to make fun of you for such a “silly fear.” Flying might be the most fastest way to travel, but you would rather ride on the back of a snail than get on a plane.

Checking your phone, you inwardly groaned. Time moved both very slowly and very fast. While you hated waiting, the thing that you were waiting for made it all worse. Taking a deep breath, you tried to calm yourself, but that wasn’t an easy task. If you had a friend with you, you might be able to, but it was all you this time around. You knew that it would only get worse as the minutes counted down.

In an attempt to distract yourself when people watching stopped working, you gathered your carry on items and began to aimlessly wander. There were a few places to eat and little shops, so you idled your way through them, hoping it would take your mind off your oncoming doom (it didn’t). You tried to drag out the minutes, leafing through boring books and seeing the same tourist gimmicks over and over, but eventually even that was unbearable. Defeated, you headed back to your gate area.

It had been mainly empty when you were sitting there, but with thirty minutes left to go, it was noticeably more crowded. You had been heading for where you were sitting originally, only to find a man in your spot. Frowning, you looked around and found a seat at the end of the same row.

Bouncing your leg up and down, you pulled out your phone and hesitated over the message button. It was so early in the morning that you knew none of your friends would be awake and they would only get annoyed by the messages later. With an uneasy sigh, you slid your phone back into your bag and caught the eye of the man in your seat and noticed how he was dressed.

For such an early hour of the morning, you were surprised at his level of dressiness, and it made you wondered where he was off to to be dressed so nicely. Meanwhile, you (and nearly everyone else around you) were in lazy clothes, like hoodies and sweatpants. You couldn’t fathom how he could stand to be all strung up like that, but there must have been some sort of reason, so you let it go. The clothes you were wearing looked pitiful next to him and you worried that he was judging you on them.

Turning away, you chewed at a nail, your anxiety levels steadily climbing. It was unbearable and you had no way to stop it. It felt as if your impending demise was coming right for you. Your eyes found a clock and located that there were only fifteen minutes left. Fifteen. That’s not enough time for you to be prepared, but, god, you would never be prepared. You wished that your flight was delayed or that some miracle happened and you could just poof your way over there. You would take anything over this. The anticipation was crushing your soul and you knew that the flight itself would be very close to actual death. Your body felt like stone, heavy and unmovable as your heart rate and breathing increased.

Maybe your stress was on high display or maybe your breathing was reaching a loud point of hyperventilation that you were too far gone to notice, but there were some stares and the man next to you scooted over to be a seat away from you.

 “First time?” His voice broke your steadfast panic and washed over you. Whipping your head over, you were startled to find him so close.

“No,” you said through sucked in breath, “no, I’m just a bad flyer. Scares me.” You managed to get out, wincing.

 “Ah.” His eyes softened with compassion. “Do you mind if I…?” He gestured to the seat right next to you and you shook your head, allowing him to scoot over. 

“Sorry.” You mumbled, heat rising to your face. You hated the fact that your fear was now causing a scene and that someone had to take it upon themselves to help you. This was feeling helpless, and that was a feeling you tried to avoid, with your fears especially.

“Nothing to worry about.” He said calmly, a smile on his face.

“At first, I hated flying. I mean, planes? All new and loud and they take so much longer. Of course, only had to be used in emergencies and not all around, but, still.” Glancing at him with a confused look, you thought to open your mouth to ask a question about anything that he had just said, but you closed in when nothing came to mind.

“Longer? They’re the fastest way to travel.” You laughed nervously, coughing slightly from the intake of air.

“Well, to you, yes.” He stated matter-of-factually, saying nothing more on the subject. “But, tell me about yourself a little, ease your mind, relax, like, where are you going?”

“Um, I’m Y/N, and I’m flying out to see a friend of mine. Sort of a get together, it’s been a while, but they live overseas, which is why I haven’t visited before.”

“Oh, that’s lovely! Shame your fear is keeping you back, I could have you there so much faster… but this is more important. Conquer that fear!” He threw a passionate fist up in the air with a grin.

“Ha-ha, yeah…” Your sentence trailed off as the loudspeakers chimed overhead with another announcement. You would be up shortly and that sent all the fading panic right back up into you.

“Oh god, I can’t do this.” You covered your face with your hands, bending over your knees. “I never should have agreed.” Your voice came out muffled from your position and you flinched in surprise when his hand met your upper back with a soothing touch.

“When you get there, it will be so much more worth it. You might be scared of the flight ahead and back, but in between you will get to do so many wonderful things with your friend. Imagine, finally getting to see them again after the ages that it has been. Don’t let something like this slip by you because of fear, Y/N, trust me.”

 “Those are very nice words, sir, but I’m still terrified.” You groaned, rocking back and forth a little bit to try and comfort yourself. Before you or he could get another word in, the dreaded announcement for your fight rang out. Tears welled in your eyes and you found them cascading down your face as you lifted yourself up with resignation. It wasn’t like you could back out of it now, not after you have paid and driven and sat here for so long, but that didn’t mean that you would find any enjoyment in what was about to come. The man stood up with you, hovering by your side as you unsteadily picked up your luggage and pulled out your ticket and other needed credentials. Taking a deep breath, you got in line behind the man and fidgeted with your fingers as it inched forward. He reached the head of the line to a few confused attendants but he whipped out a black wallet looking thing, and that was apparently all they needed to let him through. You wondered what it said because it was just the tiniest bit odd, but there were bigger matters at hand. Handing your ticket over to be checked, you gave a small head nod, and made your way through.

“It’ll be alright.” He said encouragingly but you could only grimace. Stepping onto the plane, you got everything sorted out, put your luggage up, and sat down in your seat. Thankfully, it was a window seat, and even more lucky was that the man you met was next to you for the trip.

“Wow, look at that.” You let out a weak laugh when you were seat belted in. “That’s one in a million.”

“You could say that.” He winked, busying himself with getting himself as comfortable as he could manage. Airplanes weren’t forgiving to those with long legs. The pilot’s voice crackled over the loudspeakers, announcing your impending doom- sorry- your impending take off. Clenching your seat rests with your fingers, you closed your eyes and bit your lips. Your breath was growing faster and you could tell you were losing it. A hand rested gently on yours and his thumb brushed smooth, comforting strokes. Normally, you would freak out if a stranger ever touched you like this but for whatever reason you felt like you could trust him and he was the only person you knew on this flight, regardless that you just met him.

The plane began to take off, rumbling all around you and your body shook. Your ears popped painfully and you dug your fingers in deeper. The world started to fade away from around you until finally the plane evened out. Slowly, you were able to unsqueeze your eyes, now sore from how tight they were shut, and unclenched your hands. Breathing became more calmer and you looked to the man to see him looking at you apologetically.

“All done, for now.” He gave you a smile, removing his hand and fixing his bow tie. You couldn’t find words yet so you only nodded in confirmation.

Steadying your breathing, you took a glance out the window. You couldn’t deny that the view was breathtaking and you felt yourself drifting off. Too emotionally drained, you allowed yourself to fall asleep.

You awoke to a tap on your knee. Opening your eyes, you jolted up in seat, face aflame. In your sleep, you had become slouched up quite tight against the window, your head lolled against the hard material.

“We’ll be landing soon.” The man said in a calm voice, eyes flickering over your face.

“Oh.” You breathed out, sinking down. What went up must come down and you found yourself hating how gravity worked more at this moment than you ever had in your life. With a groan, you facepalmed, your hand sliding slowly down your face. “I can’t do that again.”

“You have to.” He frowned in sympathy. Of course, you had to, there was no other option, but you knew deep in your bones that you couldn’t. Going up was already awful so you already knew that the trip down wasn’t going to be anything fantastic either. Speak of the devil, as you were in the midst of losing your mind again, the pilot made an announcement.

“Hello, this is your captain speaking. We will begin landing procedures in a few short minutes. Please remain in your seat, belted in, and raise your trays back up and prepare for landing.”

 “No, no, no…” You murmured under your breath, shutting your eyes tight once again. Out of need, you clung to the man’s wrist, grip closing around the scratchy fabric of his tweed jacket. He allowed this, to your surprise. The plane began its descent, picking up speed, bumping a small bit, and you sat stock still, terrified. You hyperventilated once more, tears squeezing out of your eyes. It seemed like forever before you felt the jolt of the plane wheels touch the ground.

You could physically feel yourself flooding with relief as you blushed and released the man of your grip.

 “Thank you.” You whispered silently to him, catching your breath. The plane began to disembark, passengers getting up and squaring away their luggage. You stood on shaky legs and retrieved what you had stowed away up above. The line to exit marched slowly out and you steadied yourself on the aisle seats. You had done it, you had truly done it. It was an incredibly horrible experience, but it was all over. Until you had to go back, but you pushed that far from your mind.

After a little while, you got off the plane, said your goodbyes to the man who was so gracious to you, and collected the rest of your luggage. Now, you were just biding your time until your friend came to pick you up. Since the worst part was over, you found yourself able to actually enjoy getting to see them and happy nerves bundled up in your stomach this time. Your phone pinged, notifying you of their arrival. Just as you were getting up to go, the man from the plane suddenly ran up to you.

“Hold on, Y/N!” He called out, panting as he reached your side. “I know you don’t know me well, so this might seem quite sketchy, but call me before you leave for the airport.” He handed you a small, neat business card with nothing but a number written on it. “Trust me.” He pressed it into your hand before turning his back and striding away. “I’m the Doctor, by the way!” He yelled with his back to you, as if it was an afterthought. Shaking your head in disbelief, you looked at the card and tucked it away in your wallet. It was a weird encounter, but he had done a lot for you today. You decided that you would call him up when the time came, but for now, you had a friend to go meet up with.

 After a particularly lovely trip with your friend, you found that the dreaded day had arrived all too quickly. Hugging your friend hard, you wished your friend well and stepped out to the taxi that was waiting for you outside. Just as you were about to put your luggage in the trunk, you remembered the card in your wallet.

“I’m so sorry!” You called to the driver and rushed off, heading down the street and into an alley. Pulling the card out, you found that your hands were shaking, but it was either seeing what this number was about or getting straight onto a plane again. With twitching fingers, you punched the number into your phone and waited for it to ring. The Doctor picked up almost immediately.

“You actually rang! Hello!”

“H-hi,” You stuttered out, “you said to call before…”

“Yes, I did! Give me just a minute!” He exclaimed gleefully before ending the call.

“What? Hello?” You furrowed your brows in confusion. “Okayyy.” You sighed to yourself, kicking at the pebbles on the ground. A strange sound filled the air and you looked up to find a blue box materializing before your eyes. You let out a started yelp, jumping back, as it came into full. The doors swung open to reveal a very energetic version of the man you met at the airport.

“Y/N!” The Doctor shouted, running up to you, and catching you in an embrace. You were too stunned to move. “Come, quickly!” He ushered you inside the box that he had just popped out of.

“I– I’m not sure that this will fit the both of us and my bags…”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll find that it will.” He beamed, pushing you in front of him so that you could glimpse the sight for yourself.

“Holy…” You breathed, spinning in slow circles to take everything in. “It’s… it’s…”

“Bigger on the inside?” He quipped, proudly.

“Massive.” You finished, mouth gaping.

“Well, yes, I guess so.” He scratched at his head, sounding a bit distraught you hadn’t come to the same conclusion as him. “But! This is a solution to your problem!” The Doctor grinned at you, stepping in front, arms spread wide, presenting whatever you were in to you.

“What is it?”

“It’s my TARDIS! Time and Relative Dimensions and Space. Basically, anywhere, anytime you can think of is right at your fingertips- more like mine- but you get the picture.”

“So… it’s a time machine.” You dropped your luggage with a thud by the door, walking slowly up to where he was standing in the middle. “Wow.”

“I know you’re a nervous flier, and that the trip back wasn’t anything you were looking forward to, so I figured I’d offer you a second option. Much faster, almost no turbulence, more spacious, and overall much better than any commercial airline.” He patted the machine in what seemed like an affectionate manner.

“But I’ve already paid for the plane ticket…” Your mouth quirked into a frown, feeling defeat.

“Not to worry!” He sprung into action, searching around for a minute, before producing a small envelope from the depths of who knows where. “Here’s the money, and don’t worry, it’s all legitimate, I made a few calls at your expense.” He winked and handed it over to you. Sure enough, inside was a check for the plane fare made out in your name. Looking from the envelope to the Doctor to the envelope to the Doctor, you felt your heart swell with joy. A total stranger, not only offering you a ride in his time machine (a train of thought you would have to get back to at another time) but also getting you your money back. You were incredibly moved by all this kindness that it was now your turn to rush him and squeeze him in a tight hug.

“How can I repay you?”

“No need, just know that you can always call me whenever you need a ride to some place else that would normally involve a plane. Now, let’s get a move on so I can show you the true majesty of her.”

He wasn’t lying about how smooth the trip was. A small bump was hit on the way, but it was over in a matter of seconds, and now you were home. Supposedly. You found that you were filled with nervous energy as you walked towards the doors, a hand tentatively wrapped around the handle. With one simple shove, you opened the door to see that you really were home.

“Oh my god.” Turning, you saw the Doctor with his arms crossed, a content smile on his face. “Thank you.” You gathered up your luggage, lingering by the door.

“Call me, whenever you want, for flights or even for other trips. Don’t be a stranger.” The Doctor said genuinely, wringing his hands. The thought crossed your mind that he was lonely.

“Of course, I will.” His face broke out into a grin and you smiled back in return. Bags secured in your hands, you went to take a step out of the TARDIS and turned around one last time. “I’ll see you around, Doctor.”

“Until we meet again, Y/N.” He tipped his head and went to close the doors behind you as you exited. The sounds of the TARDIS whirring filled the air again and you found yourself turning back. By the time you had, they were already gone. His card was clenched tight in your hand while you walked back to your home, bags thumping along the uneven sidewalk.

The future might be unsure, but you knew with certainty that yours would involve the Doctor. 

[blizzardfluffykpop]

Punk Rock Prince

Summary: Punk rock lead guitarist Jinyoung, and (Y/n) the bassist of Nonchalant Disruption, a punk rock band looking for a new lead guitarist. 

Jinyoung X Reader

One-shot 

It was the third time watching Jinyoung play all by himself, his riffs floating through the room, if only I could ask him if he was looking to be in a band. My band was lacking a lead guitarist ever since Gwen had decided she had better places to be, and no longer wanted to play in a punk rock band. She wanted to be in a pop band, and be the lead, and I had offered her countless times to take lead and each time she had declined. Her passion lies in pop music, and we decided to let her go so she could achieve her dreams. And the rest of us were left searching for a guitarist, posting flyers everywhere, putting ads in newspapers, we still have yet to receive a call. 

My friend Mark, the drummer in our band, comes up to me and he’s like, “You’ve been watching each time he plays, he seems like a pretty good replacement” I nodded at the fact, “I think he’s going to make us big, he’d be more than just a replacement but we have to ask…” He rolls his eyes, “Why don’t you ask Joy to do it?” I look over to where she is in the bar, and she’s flirting with a man, “Well, I would but you know her.” He laughs, “I’ll just do it, once he’s done with his setlist. Although, if I’m being honest he could make it on his own, he’s so talented-” “Like Gwen?” “Yeah, I loved her” “You’ve always had a thing for lead guitarists-” “You’ve always had a thing for rhythm guitarists-” “You didn’t deny it” He tries to tease me, “Nor did you~” I smirk at him, and he rolls his eyes, “I should have became the lead guitarist, instead of being the bassist” He laughs at me, “Yeah maybe, but here we are now… Anyway, I think he’s almost done” I shake my head at him, disagreeing, “You know in November Rain where they have a dip in the middle? Yeah, that’s what this is going to be” I was right, and I head up to the bartender and ask him about Jinyoung, “Why doesn’t anyone every ask about me?! Ah yes, Jackson, how are you? I’m fine, thank you” He looks at me pointedly, “Fine,... How are you Jackson?” “Little late now, anyway, Jinyoung has been looking for a group, although he is pretty good solo he likes company, he doesn’t want to be lonely.” I nod gesturing him to go on, “There are three groups and a few companies looking at taking them into their arms” I grumble, “Of course there are-” “But I bet with your sweet charms, you could do it-” “Jackson… How’s the love life?” “They’re mad at me…” “Why?” “I didn’t remember our cats birthdays…” “Jaebum will get over it, but you need to make it up” “I know, plus I only flirt with customers to get better tips” “Everyone knows that” He scoffs at me, “Well, your man is packing up his guitar” My eyes go wide, realizing I had talked to Jackson too long.

People piled up where he had to walk, already asking him to join their group, and I almost screamed, when I see a well-known act talking to him and garnering his full attention. After he walks away he doesn’t talk to anyone else, it’s not like I can reach him anyway, with the way he moved out the back door exit. I go back over to Mark and almost screamed again, he knows immediately what happened. “Don’t worry, if he joins with Jolly Roger, we’ll just figure it out okay? You never know, someone better than him might come around” I nod as we eventually get Joy to come back to us, and leave the joint.

Three hours later, laying in my bedroom about ready to scream because every time I’ve wanted to ask Jinyoung to be our guitarist something always comes in the way. The first time, Gwen had saw us and talked our heads off about the pop world. The second time being Joy getting drunk off her ass and trying to beat someone up twice her size. Dragging her away and apologizing for her was horrifying. That man was so pissed off, thank god I’m friends with Jaebum and Jackson. Mark and I would have been beaten to a pulp, after Joy was. This last time I screwed it up, I mean it was only a matter of time before I had. 

As I lay on my bed contemplating what I’m going to do, maybe start screaming from rooftops to join my group if you're a lead guitarist. That’s when I get a call, I immediately roll over, and answer and it’s just a spam call. I nearly threw my phone against the wall, thankfully, it hit my bean bag. I grumble shoving myself under blankets, and curling into my pillow, and not a minute later after getting comfy. My phone goes off, and I roll my eyes, getting up, and I answer, “Is this uh (Y/n) from Nonchalant Disruption?” I nod, realizing they can’t hear that I answer, “Yeah” “I saw your advertisement that you were looking for a lead guitarist, and I was wondering if I could audition?” “Um is tomorrow good for you?” “Yeah, what time?” “Let me go see when the others are free, give me a second?” Covering the receiver up, I quickly yell if 10 am is good for everyone to see our potentially new lead guitarist, the two shout back a ‘sure’. “Are you good with 10 am?” “Yeah” “Perfect,” I grin, “can I get your name?” “Oh uh, yeah, Park Jinyoung” My jaw drops, and I’m so glad he couldn’t see, get yourself back together, (Y/n), I scold myself internally, before telling him, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you Jinyoung, I’ll-We’ll see you tomorrow” With that we hang up, and I throw myself into my bed and scream into my pillow. 

Joy comes rushing in, “You okay?” I grin up at her, “More than okay” “It’s Jinyoung isn’t it” I nod at her and she laughs at me, “So wanna talk about him~” “He’s going to be our new guitarist, and-” “You have a thing for leads you know that?” “Yes, and what about it…” as I whisper in her ear, “Drummer girl” “Shut up, he won’t go for me” I roll my eyes at her, “Are you going to play this game of horrible charades with him for much longer?” “This is about you not me” “Yeah, yeah, I know… Anyway I think he’s cute, and man do guitarists always have to be that hot?” She winks at me, “Not you, ew…” “You’re mean” “Yeah, and?” “How did Gwen put up with dating you” “She didn’t, that’s why she broke up with me and left the group to play pop music” “Still sour over that, it’s been three months since she left the group.” “I’m over that, very much so, but doesn’t mean I can’t grumble” “Yes and no” I sigh, "She broke up with me two years ago, she was in our band up until three months ago and it's still a sore wound just like for you guys because even if I wasn't with her romantically, it was just nice to be with her, she really played a good roll in the band" "I know your over her romantically but we'll see if Jinyoung wants to join us. And then we can began anew, alright?" I nod and lay back on my bed, Mark knocks on the door that's open, "Takeout is here" I pat my bed and he walks over plopping himself on it, and we feast like well cheap kings, tomorrow gleaming in our eyes. 

Jinyoung arrives thirty minutes early, thankfully we were all ready and cleaned up. Like always, the people that live in the other apartments are at work right now. We sit on the couch and ell Jinyoung to start when he’s ready, and just like at his gigs he plays loud and fast riffs which transition into still loud but slow riffs that leave your heart pounding wondering what is to come next. Mark looks over at me and grins, Joy does the same, before I say, "How about this we play and you try to keep up" Jinyoung smirks at us, "I think it'll be you trying to keep up with me" all cocky like, not many people know but we start on two on practice, for shows we start on five. Mark goes, "A one and a two" without missing a beat Jinyoung starts on two with ease and we start playing our fastest song, "New Girl" (by suicide machines if you like punk rock music I suggest it) Mark and I singing the main, Joy doing the backing vocals, Jinyoung catches on pretty fast not only catching onto backing vocals but on guitar. Gwen was a fan of fast chord progression and he is playing it effortlessly, like he's heard the song a million times, when we finish, I look over at him, "How do you know that song so well?" He grins at us, "I've been following your band for a long time, you guys got me into punk rock music… And once I got a taste of how fast you can play I never wanted to let it go. And when Gwen left the band, it felt like my heart being ripped out. I thought you guys were going to disband and never play again. Then, I started seeing Nonchalant Disruption flyers, and I was trying to find free time in between playing little gigs… and it would be my honor to play with you guys" He humbly bows his head just in case he wasn't going to be let in. Before I can say a word, Mark lets out, "You're in" he looks at us so shocked, he starts to sputter not expecting us to accept him, "You're the only one that audition" I agree with Joy, and let out my own view, "We've been watching you play for the past couple days and… we were trying to get you in the group-" "You were trying-" "Besides the point Mark" Mark laughs at me, and Jinyoung grins, "So um can you play all our songs-" "Yeah, I know (Y/n) has mentioned how they love The Ramones and I figured out half of their songs, Mark loves Death a protopunk band, Gwen loved the The Queers, and Joy loves The Clash" 

"You decided to follow all our favorite groups and learn most of their songs?" He nods, "And in doing that I found my favorite punk rock band The Sex Pistols" I grin at him, "That's one of our favorite groups too, we look at them for inspiration a lot, hoping that we can get one of our albums banned." He smirks at us, "Well I'm going to be the one that’ll get you there and beyond." Joy puts her hand on my shoulder before stepping next to me, "Oh is that so?" Mark questions as he gets up from his stool, Jinyoung nods, I look at the other two and put my hand out, Joy lays her hand on mine, Mark on top of that, and we gesture Jinyoung to do the same, he puts his hand in, and we shout loudly and proudly, "To Nonchalant Disruption" 

We celebrated, and it wasn't long before we were back on tour. Jinyoung's skills made us so much better, no offense to Gwen but he could out play her any day. To say the least, I was slowly falling for him, from his cockiness to his motherly nature. He’d act cocky about his skills as a guitarist--although he is fully valid in that cockiness--to cooking dinner for us or giving us a look that tells us not to do something idiotic. But his laughter is something that holds a place in my heart like no other. Gods wished to have his laughter, it's so cute. But oh dear, when he gets mischievous glint in his eyes, and gets in on the joke. Like where I was the one to have spilt the flour all over the floor,... it was 3 am in the morning, and before I could clean it up, Joy was screaming as she slipped on it and landed. I ran back to my room as she started screaming that she was going to get Mark back. And she did, I acted to be asleep through it all and Jinyoung came in when the other two went to sleep, "You did it, didn't you?" "What are you talking about?" The glint in his eyes glowing bright, "Fine,... don't tell Joy" He smirks, "What do I get out of it, if I don't tell her?" I look at him, "My dignity-" "Since when you did you have that?" "Don't get smart on me, Jinyoung… but I'll buy you that Gibson you've been looking at" Needless to say, I bought him the white Gibson, and Joy got Mark back by going into the shower and pouring blue dye on him. Oh, not only was his hair stained blue but his skin too, the smurf jokes that went on for weeks. And I was so glad Jinyoung kept it a secret because that would have been my fate. 

When Gwen had called us and told us she was going to get married, I was floored. With her being gorgeous and all, the stunning personality, there was no reason to say she wouldn’t make someone fall for her, but I never thought she would reciprocate those feelings. After all, she had told me she was never the marrying type, Gwen was a very private person. She had always been, no one knew I had been with her, just like every other band that kisses their members to fuel the fangirls and fanboys, that's what we did. No one knew what we were up to, except those within the group. That's how she liked it, so when Jinyoung found me crying in the closet he was so shocked. I was over her but it felt like she never felt anything for me. She was making her marriage public, for everyone to know that she is going to be happy with the man she was marrying… The only part private is who is on the guest list. It felt like our whole relationship was a sham, as much as I was over Gwen I couldn’t help but feel like during the time we were together she didn’t feel the same. And that I was hopelessly in love with him, that I may be crying of Gwen, I know where my true feelings lie. Gwen just caused me pain from her antics. I cried all of this to Jinyoung, he just held me as talked it out. Not saying a word to me but just rockin’ me back and forth, and I could have stayed in those arms forever. 

I guess I got tuckered out crying in his arms, because when I woke up I was in my bed and it was 7 in the morning. As I sat up, I heard a knock on my door, I looked up and told them to come in. Low and behold, it was Jinyoung and he had a tray full of breakfast food, and he tells me, “You had a rough night last night, I made you breakfast, got you some Motrin just in case you needed it.” The breakfast he made me was enough to feed an army. But I wasn’t about to complain about this, rather I start thanking him over and over again. “Didn’t she say you needed to bring someone as a date to her wedding?” I groan as I nod at him, shoveling a big bite of pancake, with whip cream, syrup, and butter on it. “Would you want to go as my date?” He asks softly, my eyes go wide as I gulp down the big bite. My cheeks a rosy red, as I careful and quiet voice I say, “I would love to” He grins, “We can show her what’s she’s missing out on. I mean for god sakes who would leave someone like you, your everything someone dreams about. And she left you for some guy whose money is as big as his ego” I chuckle at him, “Thanks, Jinyoung, you don’t know how much yo-I mean that means to me.” He rolls his eyes, “Just admit it you love me” I look up at him, “Yeah I do, I love you a lot Jinyoung. And I don’t know why my heart was fussing over her last night, when I have everything I need right in front of me. You’re everything I could want and more, you punk” He laughs, and takes whip cream off the top of my pancakes, I pout as he eats it. “You’re right I’m a punk, but I’m your punk, baby, just like you’re my punk.” 

So maybe I didn’t end up with my dream girl. I ended up with someone better, the dreamiest guy, that makes me breakfast in bed. Who kisses my hand whenever he takes it in his. Who twirls me around as we listen to the Sex Pistols, who sat besides me holding my hand as we got matching tattoos. Maybe we shouldn’t have done it, but I do know I want to spend the rest of my life with him. And a tattoo was just the way to do it. We didn’t want a grand wedding, a small wedding as The Ramones played as we kissed. Mark and Joy hollering, because they were the two to witness it. The priestess wishing us well, Joy and Mark attached cans to the back of my car, them clattering as we drive through the pouring rain after we ran to get into the car. And I wouldn’t have had our wedding any other way. Dancing in the rain as we listened to The Misfits. Later that night, getting those matching tattoos, kissing in the alleyway behind the shop, everyone dreams of someone kissing them the way Jinyoung kissed me behind that shop. 

Mark and Joy eventually got together, two punk power couples in the same band. It seemed impossible but it only made our group stronger, having double dates with them is honestly cute. Joy got on her knee one time while we were on a double date, Jinyoung and I knowing about this for weeks and being in on the planning. As she asked him to marry her, Mark’s eyes flooding with tears as he joined her on the carpet and agreed. Jinyoung nestled his head into my neck and sighingly said, “Young Love” We all rolled our eyes at him, but I agreed. 

I never thought I would end up with such a great guy like Jinyoung, but here I am sitting on a porch as it rains, and he’s sprinting from the car, and has flowers, I look at him like he’s crazy and he sits on the porch swing seat next to me, “It’s our anniversary of the day we meet and I got you flowers” I grinned, and bring him into the house, “You think I’d forget such an important date?” He raises his eyebrows at me, I can be quite forgetful, I forgot our marriage anniversary so many times, until the last minute. I tell him to go get changed into something warm, he agreed and Joy and Mark came out of their hiding spots, “Get to your rooms, you two, dastardly devils” The snicker, “Yes, (Y/n)” I roll my eyes, as I go to the cabinet and pull out the wrapped present I’ve been hiding, knowing that the three of them can find anything unless it’s glaringly obvious that it’s there, then they’ll just pass over it. I pull out the mini cake to find spelled out on the cake, “Happy mini anniversary, babe” Knowing I didn’t ice that, I have to remind myself to thank those two devils. 

Jinyoung comes down as I get out two paper plates, after putting the flowers into a vase. I gesture for him to sit down, his anarchy tattoo showing proudly on his neck. “Open your present babe” He does so slowly, taking the bow apart and taking it open piece by piece. He lets out a loud gasp, one of the hardest albums to get, God Save the Queen by The Sex Pistols, and I tell him to open it up, and it’s signed. He carefully places it back on the counter, and jumps over the counter and pulls me into him, kissing me deeply, “You didn’t have to do that babe, thank you so much” I grin at him, “You deserve especially with dealing with forgetful old me, I love you so much. And I know how much every anniversary means to you, along with birthdays and I just want to show that appreciation I have for you… Plus if you think this is a little much wait till your birthday--” He shuts me up with a kiss, “Thank you so much, baby” I hear a knock as I cut the cake into two slices, I groan and Joy gets the door to reveal, Jaebum and Jackson. 

They come in, “Happy mini anniversary you two, we were here to pick you four up for a big celebration after all it’s your eighth anniversary of the day you met, so…” I look at Jinyoung he shrugs, “After we eat the cake” They grumble, and Jinyoung and I eat comfortably, not caring about dressing up that much for the date. Knowing we were just going to celebrate it in the kitchen of their bar. 

Jinyoung’s hands intertwined with mine as we walked into the bar and he danced with me on the empty dance floor. After a little while we join the rest of them in the kitchen. Bambam and Yugyeom coming in with a keg of beer, Youngjae coming in with boxes of pizza, and there is no other way I would want to celebrate our mini my anniversary with Jinyoung. With his hand intertwined with mine under the table as we eat. I kiss his nose as we exchange stories. Our friend group got big after we met Jinyoung, and it feels like a big tight knit family. 

I guess I should tell you Gwen’s wedding was spectacular for those who were famous. But for us it was boring except Jinyoung and I dancing to the songs, singing horribly to them. We danced the night away, and Jinyoung is right like he usually is, she knows what she’s missing out on, and there is no way she can get me back. With the way he dips me in his arms, to swaying back and forth, or dramatically twirling one another. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way, for all these people to see me happily with Jinyoung. Although, being there did help in our rise to fame, more people wanting to know what a punk band was doing, after all she asked us to sing a song at her wedding, pop appropriate of course. Although I may or may not have slipped a curse word into the song that didn’t have a curse word in it… while playing at Gwen’s wedding. 

I guess I do have a thing for lead guitarists, if their name is Park Jinyoung, of course. No one can beat his charms, his heart, his laugh, his everything. And he would say the same about me if not more, I love him as he loves me. I lean into him and kiss his neck discreetly and he shivers, and rolls his eyes at me, “I love you” I whisper into his neck, “I love you too” he says softly to me, ruffling my hair.

[howtohero]

#265 Leaping Tall Buildings in a Single Bound

Let me make this clear from the outset, the “boast” of “being able to leap tall buildings in a single bound” is probably the greatest marketing coup in superhero history. In layman’s terms it’s just “can’t fly but really trying.” And honestly I applaud that. Those flyers think they’re sooo great with their ability to soar like a bird and feel clouds. (I personally think they feel like soft marshmallowy pillows but I’ll never know for sure. {And I personally resent birds for having knowledge that I can never have!} We’ve all got our hangups about this.) But they don’t have a cool tagline to go with that. The leapers beat them to it! Now if they want to have a cool tagline they’re stuck with “able to fly over tall buildings in a single... a single swoop? Is that anything? Dammit” which isn’t catchy at all! So today, as a special Friday post, in honor of Leap Day, let’s take a moment to examine this historic phrase. 

The phrase originated back in the ‘30s and was coined by superhero marketing czar Dylan Vanderbilt. Vanderbilt had been hired by the superhero Bullet Bolt, who had become ludicrously famous for his lightning bolt shaped bullets. You see, those were the days before bullet-customization had become mainstream and everyone was making bullets that were shaped like sharks (or that were literally just tiny live-sharks) or hand-cuffs. So yeah, Bullet Bolt was a pretty big deal and so he fired his entire support-squad in order to hire a crack marketing team. This obviously was not a great idea in the long run and without the help of his guys in the chairs and combat medics he quickly died. (His bolt blaster misfired and he got a taste of his own lightning bullet medicine.) And, according to a correspondent we’ve got in the ghost community, it tasted pretty bad. Apparently he really regrets the lightning bolt bullets that made him famous. (Wait, do we know a ghost?) What? (You said we had a correspondent in the ghost community. Do we know a ghost?) I don’t remember saying that at all. (What?) ANYWAY, Bullet Bolt’s career was short but thanks to his marketing team, he will be remembered forever! Let this be a cautionary tale. Don’t fire your entire support-squad, but if you do at least use the savings to hire someone to come up with a cool tagline for you so you’re remembered forever in spite of your short lived and otherwise completely unmemorable career.

Up until that point, Vanderbilt had only ever represented superheroes who could fly. He was known for either saying “flyers have more fun” or “flyers have more funds” records are spotty but either he only worked with flyers because they had access to the coolest cloud parties, or because they paid well. I guess we’ll never really know for sure. So this guy was not going to take the meeting with Bullet Bolt, a superhero famous only for having weirdly shaped bullets. Having weirdly shaped bullets isn’t remotely anywhere near flight. Write that down. That’s important to know. But Vanderbilt ended up having to take the meeting when Bullet Bolt crashed through his office window one day while fighting a Yowie. Well it just so turned out that Dylan Vanderbilt had another, lesser know rule about taking meetings with anybody who fought a Yowie right in front of him. It didn’t get talked about a lot because it almost never came up but hey, a self-imposed rule stemming from an offhand, probably drunken comment made at a cloud party is still a rule. It’s interesting to think about all of the strange and unlikely coincidences that go into creating a historic moment isn’t it? So Vanderbilt meets with this guy and he says “All right, so I’m thinking we print up some posters that depict you soaring through the air while-” and Bullet Bold says “Hey hey hey, let me stop you right there. I can’t fly.” So Vanderbilt is floored, he’s never had a client like this before. He’s gotta throw out his usual playbook here. He’s gotta start from scratch. But that’s not big deal, you don’t become a superhero marketing czar by crumbling under pressure. There’s actually an online course you take. (If you’re reading this and thinking: “What! Guffaw! The internet??? That didn’t exist in the ‘30s!” Then sit the heck down. If you’ll recall, we’ve already established that in a world with superheroes, technology develops at an accelerated pace. Additionally, we did not specify which ‘30s we were talking about.) So this guy, this Vanderbilt fella looks Bullet Bolt right in the eyes and says “Well how are you at leaping?” And thus, history was altered forever. 

“Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound” is truly a rallying cry for those heroes who have powers that are almost the cool A-list ones but just don’t quite make the mark. For people who run really fast but only after building up energy on a magic treadmill. (Shout out to Flint Fast, who drove around in a van with a treadmill in the back of it in case he ever needed to build up super speed to fight crime.) For folks who can only use their super strength when they’re asleep. (Unfortunately, people with sleep strength are also disproportionately affected by sleepwalking so they tend to wake up with a lot of holes in their house.) For heroes who can teleport but it takes them the same amount of time to do so as it would to walk. (It doesn’t save them anytime but they get a lot less sweaty.) All of these heroes look to Vanderbilt’s slogan and realize that they can achieve greatness too, it’s just about how you brand yourself. 

Super leapers might never be able to reach the clouds. They might not get places the fastest. They might be useless in terms of air support. (Technically they can act as projectiles and launch themselves at airborne enemies provided that they are not flying higher than any nearby buildings.) But by golly are they memorable. These folks can be spotted in big cities jumping over skyscrapers in order to get around. (Come to think of it, might it not be quicker to simply... walk around these buildings instead of leaping over them?) They can be observed springing away from superazzi reporters who want to see them “do the thing!” They can be see in advertisements for shorts thanks to their incredible calf muscles. If you look at your window right now, you might just catch a glimpse of one bounding across the skyline. On this Leap Day, let’s take a moment to appreciate the fact that while these guys can’t fly, they can definitely leap even the tallest buildings in a single bound. (As opposed to multiple bounds? How would that even work? Once you’re in the air you’re either gonna clear the building or you’re not!) From all of here at How To Hero, Happy Leap Day!   

[halloweennut]

Hireath, Part 5

One more part after this one. I can’t write fight scenes.

As Elena planned, her, Mateo, and Gabe set off early the next morning. By horse it would have been four days, but by jacquin it was shortened to half a day. Skylar was only more than happy to provide his wings, and Migs had sent the fastest flyers. 

“So what’s the plan, Princessa?” Skylar asked, flying through the morning clouds, just barely tinged orange in the light. 

“Fly in, stop Chatana and Ash, rescue Esteban, bring the three of them to justice,” Elena replied succinctly. “Provided there isn’t any more treachery or plot twists.” 

“There won’t be this time, Elena,” Mateo said. “We’re readier than ever.”

“Let’s end this once and for all,” Gabe added. Elena nodded in agreement, and turned her view to the horizon. They flew over village and plain, river and valley until finally reaching the mountains and the cave Maricruz and Rosita had been trapped in. Despite never being inside of it, the sight made Elena feel cold.  Forty years for her had been hell, and the idea of being trapped anywhere or for any longer almost made her ill. 

“We’re getting close,” Skylar said. “Socanos is only a few miles ahead.”

“Let’s go down lower. I don’t want them to see us coming,” Elena ordered. Skylar nodded, and gestured to the other two to drop down, just above the tree line. The pyramid of Socanos rose from the jungle, a beacon of weathered stone against the sky and trees. “There it is!”

“Let’s get to ground and travel by foot from here,” Gabe called to Elena. She nodded, and the group landed in a smaller clearing a few hundred yards off from the Maruvian site. “Are we ready?”

“As we’ll ever be,” Elena said. Her scepter was steady in her hand. “Let’s end this.”

The three began their walk forward, the jaquins close at hand in case the need for a quick get away was necessary. Eventually, the jungle broke, leading into the main plaza of Socanos. The statues and remaining buildings were overgrown with plants, reclaiming them for the earth. Straight ahead down main avenue laid the temple. It’s painted facades were faded and chipped, and some of its sculptural elements were near stripped down between looters and time. They made their way up to it, hiding behind the buildings on the sides of the path to avoid being seen. Reaching the base, they quickly, but quietly, crept up, ears and eyes open for any sign of trouble. 

The inside of the pyramid was dim. Few rays of light entered from the ceiling through cracks or man-made openings from centuries past.  They made their way through, looking through each atrium for any signs of life. 

“Where are they?” Gabe hissed. “If they’ve moved already-”

“We still have one more room,” Mateo replied. “Maybe we’ll find something.”

“Hopefully,” Elena added as they entered the last atrium. It was dark, but they just made out a shape on the form. She raised her scepter. “Glow.”

The room was filled with light and Elena’s stomach was filled with dread. The shape on the ground was the prone form of Esteban. He was battered, hit with god knew how many spells, and his staff laid feet away from him. She gasped and ran over to him, gently shaking him.

“Esteban? Esteban, wake up!” she near shouted. He opened his eyes in a flash, but didn’t move anything else except frantically blink and move his eyes. “What-”

“A paralysis spell,” Mateo replied. “It’ll take a while for me to undo it, depending on when it was cast. At least it wasn’t a statue spell.”

Elena looked down at the frantic eyes, and watched as his jaw twitched. He looked like he was forcing himself to move. “E-elena-”

His voice was forced, quiet and hoarse from days of misuse. He continued, but his voice dropped to a hiss.

“What? Esteban, what happened?” Elena asked, leaning closer. Esteban only looked panicked, but tried again.

“Tr-tra-trap,” he managed to croak. His eyes left her’s to look behind her, pupils near pinpoints. 

“Well, well, well. Aren’t family reunions just so touching?” Ash said snidely as she and Chatana approached. “Perfect timing. We’ve been waiting for you.”

“The moment we saw those Oracles on that horse, we knew Esteban sent them to you,” Chatana continued. “It was only a matter of time before you came to us.”

“Can you believe Esteban still trusts you, still wants to be your family, after everything you’ve both done to each other?” Ash laughed. “It’s pitiful, really. But that’s what your family is: pitiful.”

“Enough!” Elena shouted, dress going orange. She raised her scepter towards them. “This ends now.”

Ash chuckled. “We’ll see about that.”

-

Rosie couldn’t focus on the cards in front of her. Luisa was teaching them conquian, but she didn’t have the patience to sit still for it in general, let alone when Elena had gone to Socanos. She had been watching periodically through the day to see where they were, but stopped looking when she saw that they reached the pyramid. She didn’t want to see anything else until everyone was back in Avalor. And she did mean everyone. 

“Rosie, mijita, it’s your turn,” Luisa prodded. “You don’t have to play if you don’t want to.”

“Yeah,” Isa agreed. “It can take a little while to get into. We don’t mind.”

“No, it’s okay,” Rosie replied, replacing the hem of her new vest with her cards. “I don’t think I could even do anything else right now.”

“Next round, we’ll put your sister into rotation too,” Luisa said. “Won’t that be fun?”

“Probably,” she replied. Rosie stared at her card - she thought it was a good one - and placed it down. “If we can pull her from the window.”

Maricruz was curled up in the window across the room, staring in the direction Elena and her friends had gone. Rosie knew it was for two reasons: one, they hadn’t seen the outside for so long, the most average tree was refreshing, and two, she wanted to be the first one to see them come home, especially since she was too afraid to look at the future’s possible truths. Esteban’s jacket and a small needle were in her lab, but her sister’s hands were still, halfway through a row of tiny, slightly unsteady stitches. 

“Can I take a quick break?” she asked. 

“Of course,” Luisa said. “Isa takes a bit on her turns anyway.”

“It’s strategy!”

Rosie smiled and slipped down from her chair, running over to her sister. It was so much faster doing so in a pair of leggings instead of skirt! She stopped next to her sister, gently touching her elbow. Mari looked down at her.

“Done with the game already?” she asked. 

“Not yet,” Rosie shook her head. She climbed up to sit next to her, holding her hand and looked down at the jacket. “He’ll be okay, and he’ll tell you that your stitches are uneven but good.”

Mari cracked a sad smile at that. “I’m just out of practice is all...hopefully he’ll say that the thought was lovely, and he’ll keep it in a box in his closet to remember by while wearing a nicer one. Dark blue wool with silver embroidery would be nice, I think.”

“I like the red!” Rosie pouted. “He can wear that one on special occasions.”

“Alright,” Mari replied. Rosie leaned forward, hugging her sister tight. “No sad thoughts, okay? Only hopeful ones. Everything will be okay.” 

Rosie nodded against her shoulder before letting go and heading back over to the table. Mari smiled at the three before picking the needle up again. She knew that she would focus better if she knew what would happen, if she just dared to look….

-

Elena tried to keep her rage in check as she dodged blast after blast from Ash, sending her own blazes towards her as Mateo and Chatana butt heads and Gabe and two of the jaquins helped from the ground and air. Skylar had dragged Esteban to the side, out of the fight to protect him until the paralysis spell wore off. 

“I won’t let you do any more damage, Ash!” Elena shouted. “My kingdom, my home, my family- have all suffered because of your actions!”

“And your dear cousin’s, Elena,” Ash replied. “Don’t forget that either.”

Elena grit her teeth, biting back a shout of ‘I know!’ as she fired the next blast. This one finally made contacted, just getting her legs. Ash fell with a shout of pain, tamborita flying from her hand. Elena approached, scepter aimed, ready to seal the malvago in crystal and be done with her reign of terror. 

“This ends!” Elena said coldly, dress near venomously orange. “No more-”

-

Miles away and an hour earlier, an oracle looked ahead as cards were being played.

-

Mateo pushed Pili away from him and sent another boqato towards the sorceress. The weasel hissed and lunged for his ankles, only to be grabbed by the scruff. 

“Not today!” Gabe said, tossing him to one of the jaquins. Pili shouted in protest as he was caught in a set of paws. The other jaquin was going after Chatana, biting after her wings. She stopped short and dropped like a stone, and the jaquin careened into the wall, and crumpled like a rag doll to the floor. 

“BOQATO!” Mateo shouted, sending the spell towards her. She smirked and dodged, flying just below the blast and swooped towards the two. Chatana knocked the two of them to the ground with a sharp snap of her wings before going up high. She watched as Ash was taken out and Elena approached. 

“C’mon, Esteban!” Skylar shook his charge. “We could use that teleporting nonsense right about now!”

“I’m trying!” Esteban managed to hiss. Skylar looked up, and moved to leave his side. 

“Try harder and fast!” 

Esteban followed his gaze up, watching Chatana zero in on Elena. “No-”

“Elena! Elena look out!” Mateo shouted. 

Elena barely had the time to turn before she saw the spell in Chatana’s hands. Esteban barely had the strength to stand, let alone run. But somehow he did, stumbling towards his staff and clumsily grabbing it. He slammed it on the ground.

Elena shouted, holding up her hands to block herself and felt herself go flying to the ground, but not from a magic blast. There was the sound of a body hitting stone and a sickening crack of something breaking. She knew it wasn’t her - her racing heart told her that she was very much still alive.  She sat up, wincing at her scraped palms as she grabbed her scepter. Elena turned to find the source of what pushed her away, and didn’t realize the cry she heard came from her when she saw what had.  

-

An oracle cried out and fell to the ground, much to the panic of the others near her.

-

Esteban awoke, eyes bleary. He winced in pain, trying to hold back his groans. He felt like hell warmed over. His arm was bandaged and wrapped in a sling to his chest, and his entire middle was wrapped up tight with bandages. He could feel every cut and bruise on him, and he felt extremely weak. Esteban looked around, blinking in the dim light of what he was shocked to see was his room in the palace. He wanted to sob, but the act hurt him preemptively. He settled back onto his pillows, never again to take them for granted, and finally noticed other figures in his room.

Elena was leaning on the side of the bed, asleep and looking exhausted still, and Isa leaned against her. Her scepter laid over his bureau. On the small loveseat, Gabe and Mateo were asleep, propping each other up. His abuela had taken the chair next to his bedside, draped with a spare blanket. He instinctively knew that his abuelo was probably running the castle, but would replace his wife when she woke up. And at his right hand, two little oracles were fast asleep. Mari’s cheeks were tear-stained, and Rosie looked as tired as he felt, even when asleep. Esteban let a tear fall as he sighed in relief for the first time in weeks. 

Tomorrow would come, and he would deal with it then, but for now…He was home, he was finally home and not alone. Those were the only thoughts he had on his mind as he finally drifted back to sleep. 

[life-in-the-monster-haus]

Monster Haus Reviews: Super Monsters

Since Monster High (and Ever After High) have no animated specials lined up at this current moment. I’m going to start reviewing Monster High adjacent properties. Today I’ll be reviewing Netflix Original Series Super Monsters!

It’s a show about the children of famous monsters in pre-school learning how to control their super natural powers before they get into kindergarten. This show debuted on Netflix October 13th 2017, I’ve watched a few episodes and the show is pretty much Monster High for very little kids, it’s cute, colorful, inspired and has a lot of heart in it! But I wouldn’t exactly call in ground breaking it’s got some cute lessons in it for little kids (such as encouraging manners and tidying up)  The kids start the day as humans and at night they turn into their true monster selves.

The main cast is 6 kids and 2 teachers.

The teachers are Igor (the most good looking version of an Igor I have ever seen) and his Granddaughter Esmie. She is adorable but it’s hard for me to stomach the idea that Igor reproduced to have grandchildren, even this newer handsomer Igor. But she’s super cute! I like the idea of a gothy Pre-school teacher!

I watched the whole first season and part of the show I do not understand is why the kids start the day as humans, Their parents don’t seem to need to hide or transform so why do the kids? I wouldn’t even mention this is it wasn’t such a big part of the show, every episode consists of two 11 minute episodes and each episode has 2 transformation sequences in it. They say “Sun Down! Monster up!” when they turn into monsters and “Sun Up” when they turn back into humans and go home for the day. They don’t specify why they need to hide as humans at all, I wanna say to avoid prejudice from real humans but they don’t state that, that kind of thing happens in this universe so I’m left a little confused. They go out in public on field trips and to pizza parlors run by humans and no one seems to have a problem with them being monsters...so why the transformations?

The kids are sweet no matter what form they take, human or monster they are both painfully precious.

The designs range from super cool! to super samey.

Let’s go over each kids name, design, personality and super powers!

Cleo Graves is the daughter of the Mummy! she’s adorable and all but we’ve seen her hundreds of times in media, her name is Cleo and she’s an Egyptian princess. I feel like every time we see a female character from Egypt her name has to be Cleo or she loses her street cred. There are other female rulers of ancient Egypt that could be explored here. in Monster High we have our own Cleo after Cleopatra and Cleo's sister is named Nefera after Queen Nefertiti. If I was going to name this little mummy I would have went with naming her Hattie, after Hatshepsut. I’m also super over the Egyptian princesses as a personality trait thing, Where are the ancient Egyptian punks!? brats? athletes? nerds? spooky weirdos? class clowns? None of these concepts are new, they’ve been around as long as school has and I wish we’d take advantage of that more often.

Her super power is perhaps the most unique thing about her, they say in the show she controls wind but she’s been shown making clouds that rain and controlling sand so I think her power is more like control over the weather and not just the wind.

*pinches nose bridge* This kids name is Drac Shadows...Drac... Who keeps thinking this is a good name for anyone but Dracula!? There’s tons of old school vampire names out there, Vlad, Ixion, Vincent, Roman, Sterling, Talon etc etc. and they go for Drac, since it’s a kiddie show I would have kept it simple and went with Vlad or Bram. His personality is he’s very self absorbed, He’s a very gifted flyer and has a tendency to show off.  He also tends to jump into situations without fully considering them first. He’s still growing his fangs in (he only has one) and his power is flying...duh. Not a ton to say about him really.

Katya Spelling has one of the more unique names! She’s a witch and her power is magic (duh) but her personality is very shy, cautious and considerate! Her mother has instilled in her that good witches use their magic to help others and she takes that advice to heart. Shes learning how to fly her broom, no one else is allowed to touch her wand and her familiar is a cat that turns into a plush when she’s in her human form. (pic shown further down)

*rubs temples* a Frankenstein named Frankie...ground breaking, I’ve never heard that one before. Frank and Frankie seem to be everyone's go-to when naming these types of monsters and I get why but it’s also so painfully over done, they could have at the very least named him Hank or Francis. I really wish they would have kept his glasses when he transforms or the unibrow when he’s in his human costume. they’re both unique features and it’s a shame that he has to trade one for the other. His power is super strength, He’s very sweet but very clumsy and doesn’t know his own strength yet, I appreciate that he’s kind and not just some big dumb doofus.

Lobo Howler is a werewolf! His power is super speed! I don’t really understand this trend with making werewolves fast, yea they run faster than humans do but it’s not like they're the fastest land animal (that distinction belongs to the cheetah) Wolves aren’t even in the top 25 fastest, so why is it so common to make them fast??? But that’s the only thing about him that’s predictable, he’s an athlete (he wears a varsity jacket) he’s got ants in his pants, he’s hyper active, inquisitive and confident! I have no beef with his name it’s just wolf in Spanish but at least it’s not super common and it makes his ethnicity un-disputably Latino which as I’ve seen many times in cartoons if a character is ambiguously brown people will just say they’re a tanned white person and its important to all little kids to see themselves in media! I don’t really like that his eyes change from brown to green when he’s in his wolf form, Green eyes aren’t even common in wolves (not impossible like blue eyes are, but still very rare) common eye colors in wolves are yellow, amber, orange and brown. so this design choice seems odd.

Zoey Walker is a zombie! and her power is that she can see and walk though walls! Zoey is by far my favorite character in the group! she is so adorable! She’s an artist (she paints) and she’s book smart! (she likes to read) and she’s considerate of others! I LOVE her design so much! she is so colorful! However what I love the most about her design is also what I dislike the most about it - while she’s very cute she looks nothing like a zombie, as soon as I saw her I assumed she was a living rag doll but they call her a zombie in the show??? I don’t understand it but she’s perfect everywhere else so I’m not going to question it. Zoey the Zombie is a great example of how to name a monster with it being close but not too predictable! Also her last name is hilarious if you are a fan of The Walking Dead.

Like Lobo her eyes also change color when she transforms and just...why!?!?! why green!? is green a more dead-friendly color? it’s cute on her, but why!?

They also have a class pet (Glorb the Hampster) and Katya’s familiar (Henri the cat)

In the season finale in they introduce a new character: Spike the Dragon! He’s only in the finale so we don’t know much about him yet other than he’s Chinese (stated that Chinese new year is a big deal in his family)  and his power seems to be to summon clouds and make waves. He’s a little cutie pie! I love his design!... But I really wish they would have went with a different name.

All in all the show is very cute! I highly recommend it if you have little ones around or if you’re just into spooky cartoons! (like me) It’s a Netflix original show and I really hope it gets picked up for a second season!

The animation is really cute if not a bit boring but that’s kinda the standard of 3-D cartoons these days, I’m not sure if being 2-D would help or hinder this show.

I really wish there was an explanation for why they have to change into humans, I just don’t get it. Monsters and humans seem to peacefully coexists in this world. The werewolf kids dad works for the fire department and his fellow fire fighter is a human woman, They took a field trip to a pizza place run by a human man, Their veterinarian is a human woman (she may not be human he name is Dr. Jekyll ) and so far none of them have freaked out in the company of monsters... In fact They went out trick or treating to human houses to show off their powers to “trick” the humans and the humans seem to love them!?!?

This is not the face of someone whose shocked and afraid of being in front of a zombie. In fact they invite the humans to a Halloween party and they all go, no questions asked, no conflict started. I do not get the transformation sequences at all.

But it’s fun to see what the kids would be as humans. My favorite part of any non-human media!

[bcdaily]

EIGHT DAYS (PART 6/10)

A/N: Yes, yes, I know. I suck. This is nothing new. But if this is a hot mess, please let me know, because I’m very paranoid about this chapter. I’ve edited it way too much. 

Also, please indulge me in the way I've just entirely made up the details of how professional Quidditch works, and doubled-down on how Quidditch press works, too. ("But Bee, why does your sports press line seem more like a red carpet--" "SHUT UP I DON'T KNOW I ONLY WATCH GYMNASTICS CAN WE JUST GO WITH IT.")

Link to: PART 1 + PART 2 + PART 3 + PART 4 + PART 5

__________________________________

+ + +

DAY SIX (Middle)

Day Six requires a reset, James is quick to decide. A reset, a revival, a resurrection.

Goodbye, rubbish. Hullo, deliverance.

He will salvage this wreck. Salvage his sanity. He’s determined. Resolved.

Though, admittedly…his timing could be better.

The team has the first match of morning—a fact James truly wishes he’d thought to recall approximately eight hours, two rows, and (undetermined) bottles of scotch ago. Foresight has clearly never been his forte. Neither, apparently, is self-control. He feels raw, positively splinched at the edges. Hoff’s call has unnerved him. His visitors have undone him. As he rushes around the now-crowded hotel room, gathering the remnants of dignity equipment he’d haphazardly discarded the evening before, that point becomes increasingly obvious.

But his mates are here, the lovely, useless bastards. His people. His family. James is heartened and resigned and exasperated and happy to be properly reunited with them…while simultaneously noting that he may have appreciated it more without feeling like someone’s taken a Beater’s bat to his head.

(He’d meant to plan this properly. He’s certain he had done.)

(Ow, ow, ow.)

No family is without its dysfunction, of course. Sirius is cocooned in blankets and drama, refusing to leave the bed. Remus and Peter are jovial, but clearly feel as if they’ve missed something (have done). Peter combats this by chattering incessantly. Remus cocks a questioning eyebrow at the whole tableau—prima donna in bed, empty whiskey bottles strewn about, vague sense of panic in the air—to which James can only sigh back an unspoken, Later.

He is tired, tired, tired, and late, late, late.

Bugger, bugger, bugger.

“We’ll see you after?” Remus asks as James eyes his wrinkled practice robes huddled at the base of the bed with muted distaste. They reek like a distillery. The whole bloody room does. He reaches for them anyway, glad to find he can reach—his shoulder is still a bit sore, but the stiffness seems to have gone. He can lift and rotate it readily (praise Merlin!). He performs a quick cleaning spell, dons the soiled robes, and nods at Remus before summoning his missing arm pad, which zooms out from beneath an armchair, bent and dusty.

Lovely.

“I’ll find you,” James answers hurriedly, unbending, undusting. “Don’t know how long I’ll be. Have to duck out of the press line—”

Peter clears his throat. “Speaking of press—”

“No!” Sirius snaps.

They all turn.

“No?” asks Peter.

“Bloody arse is seeing nargles,” Sirius mutters, glaring at James. “Don’t listen t’him. Can’t be trusted.”

“Leave off my nargles,” James returns, scowling.

Peter snorts. Remus sends James another pointed look (Silly ponce, it clearly chastises. You expected a reaction other than this?), and James shrugs (can shrug!) a noncommittal, Eh.

“Well, I want to hear more about your lady,” Peter says, grinning happily again. “We’ve bought her a present, after all.”

He gives the Hot for Pot banner another jolly wave, and James watches his photoself—very clearly nude, very clearly delighted about it—wink and pose from banner-land.

(He’d insist it’s a doctored photo, but honestly, he can’t be certain.)

(He dives for it, but dodgy Peter can be a fast little bugger when humiliation is on the line.)

(Humbling, that.)

Three minutes later, James is out the door: defeated, irritated, banner-less.

This is not improved once he’s besieged.

He ought’ve expected it. Day Six means the exhibition is now officially open to the public, and Quidditch fans have poured into the area like a veritable tidal wave of shouts, colors, and unhinged enthusiasm. James is stopped at least a half-dozen times before he can even clear the hotel. One bloke asks for an autograph, then subjects James to a six-minute diatribe on the state of Fitchburg’s defense. A middle-aged mum with two kids in tow propositions James so outrageously as she’s snapping a photo that he wants to slap his hands over the innocent children’s ears, spare them the indignity. A positively ancient wizard dressed head-to-toe in Appleby pale blue mistakes James for Rodger Jostins and is so joyously thrilled by the prospect that James doesn’t have the heart to correct him.

(He’d wanted a reset, not a reincarnation. But at least someone’s pleased with him.)                    

He is the last to arrive in the locker room. Lorri is still stretching in the corner. Jools calls, “Good morning, good morning!” as James shuffles in. Lufty already has the Ogden’s out and is preparing his shot. James quells an immediate gag reflex at the smell.

No one mentions his leaving training early the day before. No one mentions his tardiness now, either. The room is busy and chipper and apparently disinterested in the dramas and schedules of their youngest Chaser. It’s a wild relief. James snaps on his wireless (returned from the vents?) and after a Broomstyx hit and a Ruff Ratherford power ballad, Sleekeazy is the second advert to play.

“Sllllleeeeeeeekeazy!…two drops for hair to pleasy! Dare to care—”

“No-oo!” Marcie groans as the locker room laughs. “Why won’t it leave us alone?”

James doesn’t turn off the wireless, but there is a smattering of cheers and applause when the next advert to play is indeed something new. But in spite of the jingle, James still feels off. Like he’s chipped and nicked in all the wrong places. Like he’s got a balloon slowly inflating inside his chest. A quick Hangover Charm is slow to take effect. He can’t kick a general sense of bewilderedness. His shoulder has retained its ugly shade of splotched purple, and since he’d rather avoid questions, questions, questions, he pops open the miracle tin from Lily’s mate and applies the salve with his shirt still on. It’s clumsy work.

He thinks of Lily as he salves. (Don’t think of Lily.) Thinks of his mates. (Don’t think of your mates.) Thinks of an island he might escape to where he can be alone with only fruity drinks and the crashing waves to keep him company.

(Yes, all right.)

(Oops, no—there’s Lily again, wearing a grassed hula skirt and not much else, bless her.)

“Is that lemons?” asks Jools suddenly, startling James out of his perverted fantasies. He jumps, but Betts already has her nose pressed to his robes, sniffing enthusiastically. She pulls back grinning. “Well. Don’t you smell pretty, Potter?”

James goes scarlet. “Prettier than you,” he mutters.

She smirks, crossing her arms over her chest. “Yes, see, but some of us actually play hard enough to sweat, eh?”

He chokes out a laugh, popping the salve top back on. “Touché.”

At his easy concession, she gives him a curious look. “All right?”

James shrugs, wishes he knew.

There is not much opportunity for further banter or contemplation. The alarm is sounded—time to depart for the pitch. Before they leave, Klinderson gathers the team for a pre-match pep talk.

“Penultimate match, comrades,” he says, slapping Dooster on the back with one meaty hand. (Doos, impressively, only winces slightly.) “Let’s give the rabid masses something to cheer for!”

They all whoop and clap their agreement. James does his best to contribute. Then it’s out the door, onward.

(Onward.)

The stadium is a madhouse, each section of stands filled to the brim. James blinks at the sudden sunlight, but the Hangover Charm seems to finally be doing its job—a vague twinge is the only reminder of this morning’s foibles. He tries not to examine the surroundings too much. Tries not to contemplate just who is in those stands today, how each of them matters. He can’t. Not now. Not three minutes before play. The warning whistle blows.

He kicks off and lets the wind take him.

He expects to be distracted on the pitch. How could he not? But it is—surprisingly, fortunately—just the opposite. They’re up against a formidable lot, including James’s presumed double, Rodger Jostins, and Alla Abdel, a prodigy seeker fresh out of school who’s rumoured to be one of the fastest flyers the game has seen in ages. Lorri is good—very good—but James knows they can’t depend on her points this match. He, Dooster, and Marcie will need to pad the score as much as possible to manage a victory.

The crowd is roaring from the very start. They lose the Quaffle on the release, but gain it back with a well-timed Bludger from Klinderson. Marcie grabs it in the freefall, and despite the sparse drills run yesterday, James moves easily into formation. When the Quaffle comes to him, he’s able to whip it over to Dooster without the same tormenting rigidity that had made the exact maneuver near impossible the day before. Dooster is a bit clumsy with the catch, but makes up for it with a key feint and a zapping shot. It sails through the left hoop, just as the keeper dives.

Ten points.

More cheering.

James lets out a long breath.

He knows this. He loves this. The last few months have been…Merlin, he doesn’t know. A million things. A million, sometimes not-so-great things. Sirius was right about that. And this past week…James feels like he’s lost his damned mind a hundred times over. Coming back to England. Puddlemere. His mates. His parents. Hoff. Lily (most certainly Lily). He knows he hasn’t handled it all as he might have done once: casual and cavalier, resolved and resilient.

He’s been knocked down a few pegs, taught to worry. And while it’s not necessarily a bad thing to learn some consideration, some humility, in the flux he seems to have lost touch with the taste for this: a love for this game. For what he’s done. Accomplished. For what he can do, and can’t do, and will fight like hell for anyway.

It feels good, coming back to that now. It’s a reminder he needs, today more than most.

When the hell had he lost it?

Reset.

As he pulls off a textbook Backhand Bernham with Dooster, flying past the goal posts as his shot sails through the center hoop, James finds the person he most wants to discuss this all with is Lily. She’d get it, he reckons. She’d know what to do, what to say. And rather than worrying him, that makes him feel better.

(So much better, he scores three more goals in the next fifteen minutes. But who’s counting?)

(Well, he is, obviously. And the scoreboard. And likely Lily, too. And his mates. And Hoff. And Tufton—fucking hell, Tufton. Is he watching? Of course he’s watching. But—shutupshutupshutupPLAY.)

James plays.

He plays his bloody heart out.

+ + +

They lose the match, 270-350.

His very first exhibition loss.

James is…conflicted.

Well, perhaps not so much conflicted as content, which in itself seems like it ought to be a conflict. It was a brilliant battle, though, well-played on nearly every front. Relatively green as he still may be, James knows the rarity of that sort of outcome. Victory has transcended the numbers displayed on the pitch, and everyone—from the (overly competitive) players in the sky, to the (forever finicky) fans in the stands—seems to agree. It’s a loss in scoreboard only.

Which is not to say that James isn’t disappointed. Only human, isn’t he? He’s had a revelation, a rekindling, and what better way to pay that proper homage than with points? A scoreboard win would have been preferable in most ways, all things considered.

But despite the end result, he feels…good.

Good?

Yes. That’s it. Good. Validated. Satisfied.

Fancy that.

Better yet, these seem to be shared sentiments. The post-match locker room is filled with good-natured sighs, heady recaps, and teasing ribs. Marcie is laughing loudly with Lufty. Klinderson’s bulky chest puffs as he accepts praise for his prime batwork from Betts. Even Lorri, ultimately felled by Abdel on the chase, has her chin up, her back straight, occasionally smiling. They’ve all been through this before, will go through it again. It’s the job.

Play worthy, James thinks, that old Puddlemere adage. But there’s valiancy in defeat, too.

Interesting, that.

…though perhaps not nearly as interesting as what he somehow finds himself doing next.

In retrospect, he’ll never be able to account for the logic of it. He watches it all happen as if outside of himself, floating there above the madness. There’s a recognizable dance to the post-match process. Victory or loss, content or conflicted, it’s all the same: cool down, change gear, gird your loins accordingly. Eventually, the team will file out of the locker room. Outside, one of the exhibition wranglers will be waiting to herd the lot of them up to the press line. James is a near expert at this bit by now: wait for movement, give the (heavily bribed) wrangler a wink, and then it’s off through the roughshod door to the left that leads down to the equipment room and out the back exit of the stadium. No mess. No press. Freedom.

The team gathers. The movement starts. The roughshod door is there.

James sees it. Stares at it. His feet are moving. He stares harder.

Passes it.

(What?)

Passes the next potential escape, too.

(What is he doing?)

And the last.

(What is he doing?)

Oh, bloody hell, he thinks, at nearly the same moment his feet seem to be chanting, march, march, march! He’s marching? He’s marching. Why is he marching? He doesn’t understand. He’s certain his brain did not make this choice. His feet have gone rogue. The order’s gone out from up top—stop—and filtered down, getting corrupted somewhere in the vicinity of his chest, so all his feet are hearing is stomp. Not the same thing at all, stop and stomp. Very important letter, that m. Cannot be spoken more disparagingly of, that m. Please, Merlin help him, someone explain to his feet about the m. Why won’t they listen? It makes not the slightest bit of sense.

And yet on they go, the damned recalcitrant limbs.

He’s not the only one grappling in confusion. Standing outside the press room (what what what) as the other team finishes up their round, Betts is eyeing him in sharp question. Dooster, likewise, gives a double-take when he spots James still with them at the threshold.

“What’s this?” Doos asks.

James jerks a shoulder. It’s a truly compelling question.

“Stick close, yeah?” he tells Doos instead, feeling a bit bleary-eyed. “Dunno what the fuck I’m doing.”

Dooster is still laughing as the wrangler gives the signal and they all walk inside.

James is immediately blinded.

Flash. Murmur. Flash. Shout. SHOUT. FlashflashflashflashshoutshoutSHOUT.

They’ve noticed him, of course. Two dozen people begin whispering—then yelling—his name.

Is there always this much yelling?

He ignores them. Sticks to Dooster’s back like a toddler clinging to mum. Looks up, searching.

No, no, no—he’s press?—no, no—

Yes.

She’s toward the back of the pack. Hair up, black dress, trusty credentials hanging around her neck. There is a pad of paper in her hands, but that’s all he can really see from this vantage point. Their eyes meet. He can see the green even from here. Bright. Surprised. Her brows shoot up to her hairline.

What’s this? they ask.

He grins bravely. Unpredictable, aren’t I?

Her lips purse. Something like that.

She begins to push toward the front, and James stifles a giddy laugh.

The team fans out. This isn’t a formal press conference. They saddle up to whoever in the line catches their attention. Or perhaps it’s more strategic than that. James truly wouldn’t know. He’s the proverbial hippogriff foal on shaky legs, stumbling about blindly. Sam Lockley from Quidditch Weekly gives him a welcoming smile from behind the barricade, and James reckons he’s as good a place to start as any. Dooster seems to agree, and they amble over together.

“Truly excellent match, lads!” Lockley says in greeting, beaming victoriously. “Full of surprises. Eh, Potter?”

Potter. That’s him.

“Er…yes. That’s…well. Yes. The surprises.” Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Hate for things to be dull for you, Sam.”

James hopes his overly-bright smile compensates for the fumbling.

Sam—bless him—doesn’t seem deterred by the slips.

“First time you’re playing on the same side, isn’t it?” he asks them both, apparently understanding the comfort in numbers plot and kind enough to lob them a few easy tosses. “Seems to be working up there. What’s that been like?”

“Trying to keep the Quaffle away from this hog? Near impossible,” Dooster jokes, elbowing James in the chest. Cameras flash. “Give a bloke a few scoring records and goes straight to his head, it does.”

“Oh, were you meant to be playing, as well?” James asks, finding stride. “Explains why you kept getting in the way of my shots.”

Doos laughs and throws an arm around James’s shoulders. “When can I ship this tosser back to America?”

Lockley grins. “No time soon, from what I hear.”

There’s a pointed, expected pause. The reporter is waiting for James to respond. Of course he is. For the first time, James realises the press might interpret his appearance here as some kind of signal. It’s long been understood that if James was signed to Puddlemere—to anywhere, really—these kinds of appearances would be expected. He can’t play his same avoidance game back on British soil, with the kind of hefty contract he’s demanding brewing beneath the cauldron.

But that’s hardly a done deal at this point, and James is not sure he should—could—explain that the real reason he’s here has less to do with career, and more to do with some kind of mental break and a pair of knowing green eyes.

Speaking of…

Dooster has filled the lull of James’s non-confirmation with some clever spiels about the ease of play between the three Chasers on their side—professionals, competitors, etcetera…James makes humming noises of agreement, but his eyes focus just beyond Sam Lockley’s shoulder as Lily stealthily slides in behind the other reporter. James tries not to be terribly obvious, but is likely not overly successful. His heart patters in his chest. He feels like he’s gulped a lungful of fresh air. Lily—of course—ignores his keen attention and instead keys into the interview dynamic. She is very clearly unimpressed with his efforts. With a pointed look and a prodding twirl of her finger, she urges James back into the conversation, all go-on-hop-to-get-in-there.

(The things he does to please this witch, really.)

He tries his best. He jumps in, talking about training, about the match, about Marcie and her smart communication, Dooster and his focused assists. When he starts to babble, Lily’s twirling finger morphs into a slowly lowering flat of fingers (cool-it-slow-down-that’s-enough!). He complies readily.

She doesn’t ask questions—this isn’t her interview, and James knows there’s internal press politics to that sort of thing—but she jots down notes from time to time. James wonders if any of this will make it into the furloughed article. He also knows he and Doos spend more time with Lockley than is usual. Most of his teammates have moved on to a second or third interview by now. That’s how these things work. James might be more embarrassed about the fact that they’re very clearly coddling him, but he’s too relieved at the indulgence.

Unfortunately, not everyone is so patient.

About five minutes into the babbling, a tall, dark-haired bloke in bright blue robes saddles up to the front of the barrier. James spots him only a few seconds before—without so much as a please-if-you-will—he roughly bumps Lily aside and leans in over Sam Lockley’s shoulder.

James blinks.

“Fucking hell, Dalton?” Lily snaps.

“Mr. Dooster, Mr. Potter,” the man says grandly. His grin is blinding. “Jack Dalton, Daily Prophet.”

Sam Lockley looks cross. Lily looks livid. But neither does anything more than snap or glare at the man, which tells James he’s likely somehow higher-up than them both.

“Dalton,” Lockley says tightly. “So glad you could join us. Mind if I finish up?”

Dalton ignores him. “Excellent match out there, gentlemen. You both played beautifully…can’t blame either of you for the loss.”

The words are too pointed and strangely delivered. Dooster’s eyes have narrowed. James is instantly on guard.

“Thank you?” Dooster offers.

The reporter’s smile turns sharp. “Twenty-seven goals on your side, but lost on the catch. Got to be frustrating.”

“It’s how the game is played,” James answers carefully. Where’s this going?

Dalton waves a hand. “Of course, of course. Still, enough to make a decent Chaser shout, and you’re both better than that, hm? I think it’s safe to say you’re questioning the choices of your Seeker.”

What?

“Choices,” James repeats flatly.

“Choice of?” Dalton corrects slyly.

Ah. James sees the target even before Lily’s eyes flash at him in warning.

The fucker was going after Lorri. Lorri.

It’s so preposterous, so outlandish, James is momentarily dumbfounded. Lorri?

Thankfully, Dooster is quick on the recovery. “Not certain what you mean, mate.” His hand immediately moves to James’s arm. James feels the nudge—let’s go let’s go let’s go.

Happy to oblige, James twists away accordingly.

But Dalton is relentless.

“Alla Abdel is barely out of the schoolroom,” he blurts loudly as they turn, “yet she outflew and outmatched Lorri Jackson today. Youth has its favors, and in this sport…well, hard to argue Appleby might be reconsidering Jackson’s contract come renewal time. Next year, isn’t it? Tough for female players at the end of their careers. Always cling harder than they ought, eh? I’m sure you gentlemen were equally impressed by Abdel’s performance this morning?”

It’s a clever tactic, worded just so. The options are clear: disparage Abdel, or defend Lorri, with a happy dose of misogyny thrown just there. Any response gives Dalton his quote. Dooster’s hand applies more pressure to James’s arm. Lily’s face has gone completely scarlet. The line is crowded—all the nearby reporters have their eyes and ears trained on this exchange now, just in case. James can see it all unfolding.

And while he knows—knows—the smartest thing to do is follow Dooster’s prompt, find another spot on the line, another legitimate question to answer…something inside James revolts.

Because, honestly? This bloke is scum. He’s beyond scum. He’s the dirt James scuffs off his trainers in the morning, the sludge at the bottom of his tea cup. He’s looking for a juicy morsel of gossip—Young Stars Lament Teammate Jackson, or something equally as rubbish—and James is aghast at the audacity. In a match as well-played as this one had been, the tact is so obvious, so heavy-handed, so unnecessary, James can almost laugh. He should not reward even the attempt with a response.

He shouldn’t…but then he thinks of Lorri.

Stable, steadfast, resilient Lorri, with her calming air, her pregame stretches, her quick fingers, and her small smiles despite—yes, fine—ultimate defeat on the catch today. As if that’s not the game. As if it’s not utterly unavoidable for one Seeker to win and the other to lose. He thinks with fury, this is the reason I don’t do this, and understands the power and limits of no comment. He loves no comment. He and no comment are the very best of mates.

But now he’s here, and he can’t—can’t—leave it at that. It’s just not in him.

He turns back to Dalton, ignoring Dooster’s fingers clenching, Lily’s fast blink at his movement. James’s fists ball. His voice is low, rough.

“Are you new at this?” he asks Dalton.

The reporter stares. He’s giddy at successfully goading a reply, James knows that, but he’s confused by the one he got. Up for the challenge, he smiles. “New at this?”

“Yes. This. Quidditch.” James waves a hand, takes a step closer. “You must be. Because anyone with even the smallest hint of knowledge about the sport would have watched the match this morning and understood the Seekers at play. Abdel is fast—she’s so bloody fast, I’d hate to face her in a race, that’s for certain. I’m sure she’ll be zooming past us all for years to come. But equally as certain is that nearly every time she dove for the snitch this morning, she was following Lorri Jackson’s lead. Abdel is young. She can’t read a professional pitch yet. One day she will, but the idea that Lorri Jackson was somehow less-than…laughable. Completely laughable. She was seeking, while Abdel was chasing. Sometimes you win that way, but you can’t always, and everyone knows it—or, that is, everyone who knows even a whit about Quidditch.” James leaves that point posed for a moment, delighted by the staggered look on Dalton’s face. Delighted. “Which brings us back to the original question…Are you new at this? Because the way I see it, you’re either new, you’re inept, or you’re an unmitigated arsehole. So which is it?”

So which is it?

(Ha.)

The question hangs in the air. Dalton is silent. The whole bloody line is. No one speaks, no one moves, and with the blood still pumping furiously through his veins, James knows better than to wait around for any of them to regroup. Shooting a quick look at Lily—she is pressing her lips together so firmly, the edges of her mouth have gone white—James smiles pleasantly at Sam Lockley, reaching out to shake the man’s hand.

“Lovely speaking with you, Sam,” he says.

Someone breaks the stupor. James is blinded again by flashes—clickclickclickclick. He turns around, prodding a shell-shocked Dooster in the back. Move, move, move. March, march, march!

He’s not quick enough.

“I wonder if Greta Moors feels similarly?” Dalton snaps at James’s back, voice filled with taunting fury. “Or Fredrick Fords? I’ll just owl him for comment, shall I?”

Clickclickclickclick.

Curse fired, direct hit.

James keeps walking.

“Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter!—”

He is furious. Furious.

Fuck Dalton. Fuck. Him. Greta and Fredrick Fords be damned, too. James regrets none of this. His first real foray into press in ages, and he ends up telling off some pompous tosser in the line? What of it? Bloke is worthless, and James can antagonize any member of the press he’d like. Anyone at all he’d like. He doesn’t regret any of it. He doesn’t.

(It’s fine you’re fine don’t panic don’t panic.)

Dooster is at his elbow, walking quickly to keep up with James’s brisk strides. As the shouts continue around them, it’s Dooster’s voice that James concentrates on.

“What a cock,” his teammate says, and James can only grunt an agreement. Then Dooster snorts. “New, inept, or an arsehole. Bloody hell, Potter. Had that tucked away in your pocket, did you?”

“Years of pent-up aggression? Some,” James replies, and Dooster throws back his head and laughs. There’s more flashing and clicking.

Fine. They can have that.

He needs…hell.

James glances back over his shoulder.

She’s still standing beside Sam Lockley. Jack Dalton has gone—James doesn’t see where, but hopefully nowhere James will ever encounter him again, good bloody riddance—but Lily has lingered. Her lips aren’t pressed in contained mirth anymore, instead tweaked slightly upward as she watches him, too. The expression turns shrewder as the seconds pass. Her eyes are quite, quite bright. With a subtle jerk of his head toward the end of the press line, James hopes she understands the desperate attempt to ask, meet me please please please?

Lovely, clever witch. She nods immediately, then disappears into the crowd behind her.

All right.

All right.

It’s fine. He’s fine.

“You know, I think I’m quite done here,” James tells Dooster, hoping his voice only sounds that tight inside his head. They’re nearly at the end of the line anyway. James has sped through like his trousers are on fire. People have been shouting his name—they all seem to be shouting something—but James hears it like an echo through a tunnel, all hollow and vague. “You all right?”

Dooster nods. “Think I’m quite done, as well. Nothing going to top that, eh?”

Shit shit shit shit.

James smiles weakly. He’s walking too fast. He knows he is. It’s terribly, terribly obvious. He wants to get out of click-flash-shout range, though, and he’s barely managed to do so before a short obstacle stumbles into his exit path.

“Note for you!” the boy says, thrusting parchment at him.

James takes it numbly.

It’s very clearly ripped off a white pad of paper, which comforts James even before he opens it and sees the familiar handwriting.

Bvrg kiosk sect. 4 left pillar. xo

Beverage kiosk. Section Four. Left pillar.

James murmurs something to Dooster—sorry urgent note thank you thank you thank you—then takes off like a pack of dementors are floating at his heels. Section four is close. The beverage kiosk will be crowded with spectators milling about between matches, but maybe Lily’s counting on the busyness to maintain his anonymity. He keeps his head down nonetheless, casting a quick Concealment Charm in hopes that it will deter gazes from lingering his way. He’s never regretted the absence of his Invisibility Cloak so keenly. When he reaches Section Four, he lifts his eyes only high enough to scope out the terrain. The small alcove off the side of the beverage kiosk’s left pillar is surprisingly easy to spot. He weaves his way toward it.

He’s not quite running, but he’s not quite walking, either.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he’s saying even before he gets there and finds her, tucked away in the spot as promised, thank Merlin. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Shit,” she agrees, but she’s laughing. Lily. Hullo there. Laughing. “James. Fucking Christ.”

He’s a bloody mess. He fairly falls into her, arms curling around her waist, the momentum pushing her back against the alcove wall. His face drops into the cool, comforting crook of her neck, and he sucks in a ragged breath.

“That was stupid,” he mutters into her skin. “Stupid. I am furious. Fucking furious.”

“You are clearly not the silent and seething sort.”

“Can’t even believe—”

“Unmitigated. Five syllables!”

“Shit.”

“It was the most brilliant thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Stupid.”

“Well.” Her fingers sink into his hair, soothing. “Only a bit.”

“A bit.” He chokes on it. Laughs. Is he laughing? “Oh, hell.”

He lifts his head only enough to cover her mouth with his.

She does not shove him off. He is not so awash in his own anguish that he can’t acknowledge she’d have every reason to do so. He’s a waste of a human nowabouts. Instead, her hands slip down, cupping his face, fingers skimming along his jaw. Her mouth matches his in fervor for a few thrilling moments, then pulls back carefully, slowing the onslaught. That’s all right. He doesn’t mind slow. His heart is beating so fast, slow is good. She tastes delicious. Like tea and mint. He’s never come at someone like such a lunatic, and wonders what sort of price he’ll have to pay in the afterlife for these kinds of earthly indulgences. Whatever the cost, fine. He’ll gladly give his bloody soul for a few minutes of this, of her (all right okay he’s bloody insane).

But she doesn’t seem to mind. That’s the maddest bit of all. She lets him kiss her, kisses him back, and doesn’t seem bothered in the least that she’s latched herself onto the loopiest bean in the Bertie Botts bag.

She’s still chuckling as she pulls away, albeit decidedly more breathlessly.

“All right?” she asks.

James drops his forehead against hers. He wheezes, “Yeah, sure.”

“Liar.”

He shouldn’t laugh. How can he laugh? But between lingering kisses, he does. “Can’t snog the seethe or stupid out, I reckon,” he sighs.

“Ah, well. At least we gave it our best attempt.” Her hands drift down, playing with the lapels of his robes. His heart is doing its best to thump its way out of his chest and he’s certain she must feel it. “This is not a disaster,” she says.

“The snogging?”

“Well, that. Good on us, eh? Meant the rest too, though. It’s not as bad as you think.”

James pulls back, incredulous. “Yes, it is.”

“That—”

“Don’t coddle me.”

“I only meant—”

“Who was the tosser?” James interrupts again. “Dalton.”

Lily’s lips dip grimly. “Arsehole of the highest order, you had the right of it there. Left Business & Broomsticks for the Prophet a few months ago. Haven’t the faintest how he survived there, except for favors. He’s connected, if little more than a gossip columnist. But he’s a lead reporter now and he brings in subscriptions with his rot, so we’re all left to suffer.”

“Connected.” James repeats the word dully. A headache is forming. “Which means he might actually be able to owl round Fredrick Fords?”

Lily opens her mouth. Closes it. “I don’t know.”

James sighs again. As if it matters. As if the Puddlemere owner wouldn’t hear of it in any case. “Lovely.”

“You were defending a teammate,” Lily argues loyally. “Against the rubbish innuendos of a sensationalist fuckwit.”

“Don’t reckon Puddlemere will see it that way, do you?”

“Then they’re fuckwits, too.”

“Lily.”

“What? It’s true. You shouldn’t even be—” She stops, shakes her head. Seems to swallow something else down, and doesn’t let it come back up. “It’s true,” she repeats instead, definitively.

Not that simple. It’s not even remotely that simple. James runs a tired hand down his face, striving not to dwell on all the ways he’s drowning in the complications. The expectations. All of it. “I should’ve walked away.”

She can’t much argue with that. “Maybe. Likely. But even if you had done, he still would’ve made it into something. It’s what he does.”

“How?”

She hesitates. Fidgets. “You know.” She waves a hand. “ ‘Potter Avoids Questions About Jackson’s Loss: Silence Speaks Volumes’; or ‘Potter Panders to Press in Attempt to Save Face”; or “Abdel Jealousy Leaves Potter Mutely Fuming”; or—”

“Or?” James chokes out. “Or? You’ve more?”

Lily shrugs uneasily. “There’s a lot of ways to warp ‘no comment.’”

Fucking hell, James marvels. It took her not even three seconds to come up with those.

His stomach dips sourly.

She notices, of course.

“Don’t.” Her voice is sharp. Her fingers clench. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

The scathing look she shoots him makes it clear she doesn’t appreciate the dissembling. “You know what I do. You’ve always known. I’d never write that sort of rubbish. I’ve more morals than that.”

“Right.” He speaks quickly. Maybe too quickly. “Yes. ’Course. I know.”

“Do you?” She asks it pointedly. Her hand curves around his jaw, tilting his gaze down to square with hers. Her eyes are narrowed, assessing. She doesn’t pull away, but…

But her touch grows lighter, warier. Tense apprehension seems to drip from her—apprehension she has every right to feel, because she’s correct: he’s at odds and ends and she’s somehow found herself at the wrong end of it all. It’s not worth it to prevaricate. She’s already proven more than once that she’s got his number there. He’s fooling no one. But his mind’s too a-jumble, his equilibrium too off-kilter from the morning—Sirius, and Hoss, and the match, and Dalton, and all the rest of it. He wants to tell about it all, but he’s nearly certain it’ll come out all wrong: “Yes, all right, I thought all those things for a second…but only because I was up half the night with my best mate talking about how you might be using me for a story! And I’m on the brink of fucking up my whole future! Again! And the Dalton thing! And you just then! But really, I think you’re brilliant—”

Merlin, he’d want to punch himself. Already does, rather.

He opens his mouth. Shuts it. Gapes some more.

Fuck, he’s got to say something.

“James.” Her hand drops. Her voice is tight. “Look. This…us…we don’t need to do this—”

“What? No. No.” He frantically grabs for her hands again. “That’s not—that’s not what I want. That’s not what this is at all. I’m sorry. I’m an arse. I…” He brings her hand back up to his cheek and fairly droops into her cupped palm. “I never meant…I know you wouldn’t. I shouldn’t have made you feel like I had done. I’m just…I’m cross and panicked, all right? I’m angry with myself for the Dalton shite, and stressed about Puddlemere, and my mates are here, and you…you panic me most of all.” She blinks at that, and he rushes to explain. “I’m hanging on by a thread, see? The saddest, rattiest, threadbare string. These past few months…completely barking. Such a sodding splinching disaster. And I just…I dunno why you’d even consider it. This. Me. I’ve been trying to suss it out, trying to understand why in the hell either of us hasn’t run away screaming yet, and I’m at a loss. I’m a terrible bet. A precarious plot twist for you, all around. You see that, don’t you?”

Well, it wasn’t quite as bad as he thought it might be. He sounds like a raving lunatic, but all the better to make his point, isn’t it? He closes his eyes, taking comfort in the fact that she hasn’t pulled away yet, hasn’t even dropped her hand back down to her side. In fact, she takes his fumbling, bumbling declarations with likely more grace than he deserves.

Eventually, she exhales loudly. “James—”

He opens his eyes. “It’s been six days. Little more than a hundred hours. That’s how long we’ve known each other.”

“You’ve counted?”

“Well. You know.”

She bites her lower lip. “Do you want to run away screaming?”

“Sometimes,” he confesses. “Or at least, I reckon I ought to. Don’t you?”

“Sometimes,” she concedes with a rueful little smile. Her shoulders slump for a second, her chin dropping to her chest. Then she looks back up at him. “No use pretending, is it? Neither of us is stupid enough to ignore the obvious. Yes, my life would be infinitely easier if you were some dully average, virtually unimportant, struggling barkeep from Nowhere-shire instead of essentially the biggest commodity the sport has on offer right now and the largest contribution to my career and livelihood at the moment. I’d wish you a little less talented, a little less relevant, a little less you, except then I’d likely find you considerably less appealing and the whole thing would be moot. So you’re right—we’re pretty terrible bets for one another. For all my scruples, I could lose any bit of journalistic integrity I’ve garnered, maybe even get sacked for this. I know that. That’s…bad. Really, really bad.”

“I don’t want you to get sacked,” James says. “You’re brilliant.”

“You know what people will say, don’t you?” She gives him a pointed look. “That I’m using you. That I’m bartering my favors for stories. That you’re a naïve nodcock for letting it happen. That I’m biding my time until I can con my way into begetting an ill-gained bastard child to set myself up for life. That—”

James chokes out a laugh. “An ill-gained what?”

She waves a hand. “You know what I mean.”

He did, but her examples were nearly as colorful as Sirius’s. “Lily. I know you’re not ‘begetting’ anything.”

“You assume I’m not begetting,” she corrects. “But either way, it doesn’t mean other people won’t say it. People who don’t matter. People who do.”

People who do matter already had done…and yet, James was still here. Insanity, suppositions, and all. She was the first one he’d wanted when everything tilted sideways. Was the first one he’d wanted when the sideways had seemed to level out a bit earlier during the match, too. That said something, didn’t it?

He turns his head, dropping a kiss into her cupped palm still resting against his skin. “I don’t care. Do you?”

She lets out an unsteady huff. Her fingers curl. “A little, truthfully.  But…well, here we are.”

“Here we are,” James agrees. He even manages a smile. “So glad we’ve cleared that up.”

“That we’re both utterly thick, self-sabotaging hedonists?”

“Might’ve gone with ‘mutually enamoured’ myself, but all right. Yours works, too.”

“No, I like yours. Straightforward.” She rises back up on her toes and fits her mouth against his properly, a long, lingering kiss. It’s a rush, a comfort. Mutually enamouring.

Nothing about this seems to be straightforward, but James reckons snogging Lily is about as close to it as it gets.

Which makes it a rather large pity—on numerous levels—when she tears her lips away from his.

“Shit,” she says. “I forgot. We have to go.”

“Go where?” James asks. He has no interest in going anywhere.

She straightens his robes, then licks her thumb and smudges it across his lips. “You’ve got lipstick everywhere.” She winces guiltily.

“It’s a new look,” James offers, and attempts to angle for some more by catching her mouth again.

She barely lets him get in a few pecks before she’s squirming away. “Come on, come on. Save it for later.”

Later gives him hope. She gives his arm a yank, and James lets out a quick hiss.

“Ah—careful. Shoulder,” he reminds her.

She skitters to a halt. “Oh, hell. I’m sorry. Is it still…you played so flawlessly this morning, I assumed—”

“Flawlessly?” James rears back. He grins. “Flawlessly, was it?”

She rolls her eyes and tugs at his non-injured arm. “Relatively,” she adds. “You know, compared to when you were flinching every time you so much as breathed yesterday.”

“Flawlessly,” James crows, as if she hasn’t spoken. They leave the alcove together. “Now, that’s a word. Come a long way from ‘decent’ and ‘adequate’, eh?”

“Come a long way from a lot of things,” she mutters. “Humility, among them.”

“Flawlessly—”

“Oh, good God—”

James’s smug laughter abruptly dies as they swerve past a particularly large crowd of spectators and he spots a specifically smaller crowd of three ambling toward them.

He rounds on Lily, grabbing hold of her shoulders, stopping her mid-blasphemy.

“Er.” He blinks at her. “So, listen.”

Her eyebrows lift.

“I would like you to recall,” he says hastily, quietly, “a few moments ago, when we both decided that we are suitably enamoured of one another and I would like you to hold on to that feeling very tightly. Right now.”

Her head tilts in question

“They mean well,” he adds. Then amends, “Some of them mean well.”

Which is all he manages to get out before his mates descend.

“Congrats on the spectacular loss!” Sirius calls, ruffling James’s hair with one hand. The other precariously balances a tall cup. “Rest assured, we cheered very hard for the other team.”

“Cheered ourselves nearly hoarse,” Peter agrees. “‘Rah, rah, Rodger!’”

“You hate Appleby,” James accuses.

Remus grins. “‘Hate’ is relative.”

James rolls his eyes, but sees Remus’s gaze flicker beyond James’s shoulder to where Lily still stands. He swallows down the snitches zooming about in his stomach, the feeling that some might call delighted eagerness or uncontrollable hysteria depending on the day, and clears his throat. “Lads, I’d like—”

Sirius thrusts his cup over James’s shoulder.

“Here,” he grumbles. “Do you have any idea how long that queue was? And you’ve awful penmanship, by the by. Couldn’t tell if that was a four or some kind of ancient hieroglyphic.”

James watches Lily’s smug grin flash as she takes the cup. “Got here, didn’t you? My penmanship is exquisite.” She takes a sip of the drink, and nods in satisfaction. “Excellent. Only 4,999 to go.”

“Excuse me? I believe you mean 4,998.” Sirius crosses his arms. “I brought you that butterbeer during the match.”

“That was an apology butterbeer. And far before terms were settled. Doesn’t count.”

“Doesn’t count? Doesn’t count?” Sirius whirls on the other two. “Does it count?”

“Of course not,” Remus says.

“Definitely doesn’t count,” Peter agrees.

“What? That’s—collusion!” Sirius rails. “Where is your loyalty?”

James can only blink, utterly bewildered, as the four begin to argue semantics of drinks, of terms, of timing and apologies, and most certainly of collusion (emphasis required).

James watches it all for several long moments.

What. Is. Happening? (Emphasis. Required.)

“What is—” He has to raise his voice to be heard. “Oy! What—what is this?”

“Collusion,” Sirius insists again with a decidedly outraged look. “Haven’t you been listening?”

James turns on Lily, because she seems the likeliest to be depended upon for reason. “These are my mates,” he tells her.

“I know.” Her smile is secretive, self-satisfied. “We’ve met.”

“Yes, clearly,” James says. “More interested in the how and the when, thanks.”

“Utter coincidence,” Sirius declares, at nearly the same time Lily baldly states, “I was shanghaied.”

Shanghaied.

Shanghaied.

“What?” James is not quite shouting, but not quite not. “What?”

“It wasn’t as bad as that,” Peter is quick to insist.

“It was as bad as that,” Remus concedes guiltily.

“There was,” Lily says, “this dog.”

James shoots a look at Sirius, who is now studiously examining the ceiling. “A dog.”

“Yes, a dog. On the stadium grounds. Very strange.” Lily talks animatedly with her hands. “So he comes up to me, then dashes away, and I’m following this dog round this remote corner, see? Because, why? And then I lose him—hey, where’d the dog go anyway? Where does one even get a dog around here? Or through security? It’s all…well, never mind, anyway, then I am surrounded by these three, and I kicked poor Peter in the shin—”

“Quite all right!” Peter rushes out, hands held high. “We did sort of skulk up on you.”

“Right—”

“Skulk.” James can barely manage the word. The image of all this so clearly unfolds in his head—every disastrous second of it—it’s really quite a wonder he can even speak at all. ”You skulked up on her.”

“I actually recognised Remus quickly enough,” Lily jumps in. “We were in Defense Club together at Hogwarts.”

“Defense Club.”

“Yes. Before I left. He was very good with Shield Charms. But see, I didn’t catch sight of him before I’d already kicked Peter—”

“—no harm done!—”

“—and Fuck Off there was looming a bit murderously, so I cannot be blamed—”

“It wasn’t murderous,” Sirius says. “That’s just my face.”

“—but it was sorted pretty quickly, all in all,” Lily finishes. And grins.

They are all grinning, in fact. Looking at him all innocently, all very ha-ha-isn’t-this-humorous-so-many-chuckles-no-harm-no-foul-let’s-move-on-shall-we? Like they haven’t…like they haven’t…

James attempts to regulate his breathing—attempts to regulate his outrage, and the need to howl, and wail, and maybe send prayers up to the heavens—and struggles to reach the ha-ha place of let’s-move-on.

But he’ll have to be forgiven for not quite getting there just yet.

He turns slowly toward his mates.

“All I asked,” he manages shortly, his voice chillingly measured and low, “is for you lot not to scare her off. That’s it. Be decent. Normal. At the barest level, don’t give her more reason to ditch me arse-over-head on the side of the pitch than I already have done all on my own. And yet that somehow, in your feeble minds, leaves amble room for shanghaiing her, in a dark corner, looming murderously, with a dog, to—to—”

“It wasn’t a dark corner,” Peter mutters. “There was plenty of light.”

James cannot even muster a response for that. Instead, he whirls on Sirius. “You!” He jabs a furious finger. “This was you.” Now Remus: “And you let him!”

Remus shrugs helplessly as Sirius scoffs, “Don’t get your knickers in a twist. You were clearly a biased party, and we just wanted to chat with her, Prongs.”

“Chat with her?” James shouts. “And you couldn’t chat with her later, at a perfectly normal location I’d already set up? Without the skulking and the bloody dog—”

“You are very hung up on this dog,” Lily says.

“I’m going to kill all of you,” James declares, glaring at the traitors he’d previously had the stupidity to consider family. “Kill you.”

“See? That’s murderous,” Sirius mutters to Lily.

James fairly lunges at him and Lily wraps an arm around his waist as Sirius dodges away with a cackle.

“James! Honestly.” Her arm squeezes him. “It’s fine. Fine.”

“It’s not fine!”

“It is,” she insists again, hand stroking and patting his side now. Like he’s a skittish lamb in need of coddling. “We had a good chat, that’s all.”

“About what?”

She presses her lips together, clearly still finding this humourous. “Intentions,” she says.

He shoots another deadly look at his mates.

“It’s all sorted now,” Lily continues. “After a bit of back and forth, we’ve all settled that I am in fact not after a promotion, or your fame, or your money, or—what was it, Sirius? The ‘begetting of an ill-gained bastard child to set myself up for life’?”

James’s eyes fly to Lily’s.

She winks.

Fucking hell. The colorful example wasn’t like Sirius’s. It was Sirius’s.

“Run screaming,” James advises her quietly. “Truly. Go on. Save yourself.”

“For the record,” the traitorous bastard James formerly called brother interjects, “I stated very clearly I’d still serve as godfather for any fruit of your loins, ill-gained or otherwise.”

“Bit difficult to do when you’ll be three leagues beneath the ground,” James retorts.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “Really, she took this all loads better than you’ve done.”

“To be fair,” Lily adds, “I was bribed.”

James eyes her cup. Now it’s all starting to click together. ”With 5,000 beverages? You settled too low.”

She shakes her head. “Oh, no. That was a bet. Much later.”

“What, then?”

She takes a long sip of her drink, then innocently offers, “Pornographic banners, actually.”

Pornographic banners.

James chokes. He sputters. His head whips around to glare accusingly at Peter, who only shrugs helplessly. “What? Apparently she’s hot for Pot. Who could’ve known?”

James considers homicide. He considers suicide. He considers several other -cides, or possibly something that includes time travel, or sudden short-term amnesia, or even hypnotism, but in the end he merely settles on not quite meeting her eyes. “Er.” He coughs. “Those are…erm, fake.”

Except it comes out as “…fake?” rather more than “fake.”

He really wishes he could recall if they were fake.

Lily smiles like the cat that’s got the cream, seemingly equally as unconvinced by this claim. “Mm-hm.”

“It was cold in the room,” is what Sirius offers.

“We were all young and impetuous once,” is Remus’s input.

“I’ve got at least a dozen more,” Peter confides, and he grins like he means it.

Shite, he probably does mean it.

And then they are all speaking at once, which is sort of a relief and sort of isn’t, because Lily is looking intrigued and Peter is looking smug and Sirius is having far too much fun for someone who James only minimally has determined he no longer has to throttle immediately, and Remus is cocking his brows at James in that way that very clearly states, Yes, well, sorry, but it’s all wrapped up quite nicely, hm?

If a witch can somehow overlook being shanghaied by one’s mates, and was still willing to stand here a few hours later, bartering for pornographic banners like a wily grandmum taking on the grocer for her weekly vittles…

Well, that’s something, isn’t it?

Very, very much something.

The snitches inside James’s stomach are dancing. They are dancing in giddy, frantic, uncontrollable delight and he wants to hug someone and hit someone and really, the fraying string can keep fraying so long as he can hold this moment just here, right now, for quite a long time.

Click. Flash. In his brain. The good kind of click flash.

He is not the one who interrupts it. He has in fact joined in, unable to keep quiet after hearing Peter’s absurd claim that there is in fact a banner featuring a naked James lounging beside a sleeping lynx at the London Magical Menagerie (which had to be impossible…right?), when one of the ever-present exhibition errand lads squirms between the lot of them, thrusts a folded note at Lily, and says, “Here!”

She takes it absently, flipping it open as she’s still arguing, “…I don’t care how much money you’ve donated. They don’t let naked wizards stroll into the lynx cages at the London Magical Menagerie for drunken photoshoots.”

“No one said we asked,” Sirius says.

“That is so—” Lily jerks. She’d already been half ready to toss her arms in outrage, but her body instead stiffens as her eyes fixate on the note. Her mouth closes. She looks…perturbed?

“What is it?” James asks.

Instead of answering, she whips around and raises two fingers to her mouth. She lets loose a shrill whistle, and shouts out a pointed, “Oy!” to the errand lad who was already starting to scurry away through the crowds.

The boy turns back to her, exasperated.

Lily lifts the note. “This came from Hopper?”

The boy nods impatiently.

Lily closes the note and turns back around, the boy running off again behind them. She’s frowning, staring off at some dead space to their right. She appears to be more confused than anything else, but it’s certainly a far cry from her laughing teasing of moments before. When he touches her arm, she jumps, her gaze jerking up.

“All right?” he asks again.

“It’s…yes. Yes, fine.” She shakes her head, seems to attempt to shake off the moment, then quirks her lips gamely. “Sorry. Work. You know.”

“You’re not��in trouble?” he asks it softly, pointedly. “Not…you know, all this…?”

“What?” She blinks. “Oh. You and…? No. No, it’s fine. We’re fine. I just…” Her lips press together. She is watching him rather stringently, but James can’t discern whether that’s because she’s contemplating him specifically, or he’s simply an obstacle in the way of her distracted stare. He can practically see her mind whirling at lightning speed.

She starts again, and lets off an unsteady laugh. “Sorry, sorry.” She waves her hand. The closed note flutters between her fingers. “Sorry,” she tells his mates, too. She lifts the note. “I’ve got to take care of this. Work.”

“Sure,” Remus says, but his brow is a bit furrowed now, too.

“If you’d like to begin an exposé on nude Quidditch banners,” Peter states, “I am a very reliable source.”

Lily smiles more easily. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She turns back to James. “I’ll…I have to…but I’ll see you…?”

“Later?” James fills in. She nods, but certainly she’s acting strangely, isn’t she? Could it be something about Dalton? Lily had been witness to the whole thing. Maybe someone at the Prophet had questions. Could she get in trouble for that, if not their relationship (if he could indeed call it a relationship)? But then James feels a bit conceited for thinking everything was somehow about him. Likely, it wasn’t. Likely everything was fine. The news never stopped, did it? And this was her job. “Still reckon we ought to tour The Cornish Pixie with the lads? And you’ve 4,999 free drinks still coming, yeah?”

“4,998,” Sirius corrects. Then, again, “Collusion.”

They all, wisely, ignore him.

“Eight? Meet you there?” James asks Lily.

She nods. “Yes. That’s good.”

She says her goodbyes quickly—still rather jittery, half-distracted, but genuine enough despite the speed of the whole process. Before she takes off, she grabs James’s hand and squeezes it. He wishes she’d told him what was in the note and why it had thrown her, what’s zooming through that clever head of hers, but it seems not entirely his place. Likely, if they actually make a go of this, there will be numerous notes and tips and meetings where she won’t be able to tell him a thing. It might take a bit getting used to, but that doesn’t mean James can’t handle it. All of this was still incredibly new. Allowances had to be made for both of them to match their strides.

As she disappears into the milling crowds, James reckons it’s enough for now.

Besides…he has plenty to focus his attention on at present.

“So.” He turns back to his mates, claps his hands together. “Do I murder you lot now, or do we tuck in to some lunch first?”

LINK TO PART 7

[killingkueen]

Mr. Cluck’s Chicken Kitchen

Just rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it? This is a make-up RSS gift for @itschippedcup. It was fun being your adoptive Santa!

The prompt was: Undercover boss, Mr. Clucks, Love, and I, uh, managed to fill the first two pretty well. This went in a weird direction.

Sorry you got stuck with me. Enjoy!

Rated T for some cursing and a scuffle.

Summary: It’s the last night of filming with the mysterious Weaver, so of course things don’t go as planned for Belle.

“And what do you think about the CEO?”

“The CEO?” Ruby frowned at the plastic wrap she was pulling off the containers of lettuce and tomato. “Of Mr. Cluck’s?”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Cluck’s.” Jefferson smiled, showing all his teeth. Ruby pretended to think about it (as if she had a opinion in the first place). Jefferson was surprisingly easy to rile up, though, for all he tried to act like the suave Hollywood producer he absolutely wasn’t.

“I don’t,” Ruby said finally, with a shrug.

“You don’t,” he repeated, tonelessly.

“Well he’s not exactly Steve Jobs.”

“And what does that mean?”

“I don’t know anything about the CEO. Why would I?” Ruby popped her hip, making a show of balling up the plastic and throwing it in the bin. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s some crusty old white guy who just sits around wondering how to best exploit his plebeian workers. It’s not even his signature on my check.”

“You have direct deposit.”

“Exactly.” She shrugged. “I don’t care who runs the company. Seriously, who does?” She reached inside the sandwich station, transferring the empty condiment containers for the new. “Like, that’s such a random question, Jeff. Why would you even ask it?”

“What can I say? I have my script.”

“I thought the point of reality TV was that it was unscripted,” said a voice behind them.

“Belle! Just the woman I wanted to see.”

“Ruby, after you’re done here could you run to the back and grab more medium cups?” Belle said, ignoring Jefferson. “Then go ahead and take your break, so we’ll have all our bases covered for the dinner rush.”

“Please tell me I’m not on window.”

“You’re on window.”

“Belle! Come on!” She groaned.

“What’s bad about working at the window?” Jeff jumped in.

“The drive-thru window,” Ruby grumbled. “Complete with the freaking cold, impatient people, and Keith.”

“We have to…accomodate.” To her credit, Belle did look sorry.

“Ugh, I don’t want to work with Keith. You know what he did last time? He ranked every single woman that came through on fuckability. First how they sounded through the headset, and then how they looked when they pulled forward. He’s so gross.”

“Watch your language,” Belle chided.

“Oh, we can edit that.” Jeff waved his hand.

Belle sighed as she rubbed at her temples. Only one more night, only one more night, she thought to herself. “I’m sorry Ruby, but we’re bare-boned because of the film crew, and you have the fastest times, plus with Weaver—”

“Yeah, yeah, the big star of the show.” Her eyes rolled so hard Belle was sure they’d pop out of her head. “And you’ll be ‘training’ him tonight, too, hmmm? Aren’t we past the hand holding yet?”

“Actually,” Jefferson said, “we want him put on front register tonight. We’ve gotten enough footage of him stumbling around like a blind lamb, burning the fries and messing up the sandwich orders. Now we’d like to see him crash and burn when actually interacting with the customers.”

Ruby turned large, pleading eyes to the producer. “Jefferson, if you want drama and chaos, put him on window.”

“Drama and chaos, hmmm?”

“Jefferson, I won’t tell you how hilarious it will be to watch him try to balance drinks and food at once, or how slow he’s going to be on the computer, or even how he’s going to butt heads with Keith because both are controlling assholes—”

“Ruby,” Belle warned.

“—I don’t need to tell you, because you are going to see it all and more, because Weaver is working window.”

Jefferson raised his eyebrows, his expression going slightly manic. He looked around at where Weaver, said Big Star of the Show, was currently elbow deep in soapy water at the dishwashing station.

“He’ll be disappointed not to be working with blue eyes here, though.”

“I knew it!” Ruby said. “This is for a dating show!”

Jefferson laughed. “It really isn’t.”

“Come on, Jeff,” she said, batting her eyes. “You can tell me. We’ve made it a whole week without guessing what the show is.”

“Hey, I’ve lasted this long, I’m not about to spill the beans now. You’ll find out with the rest of the world, when we debut in the fall.”

“Lame.” Her eyes drifted over to Weaver, to his short, greying hair and blue jeans. She had overheard him telling Belle that his hair was much longer before he had agreed to do the reality show—apparently it was a deal-breaker if he had to wear a hairnet or even pull it back so he cut it all off instead. It was a conviction that she could admire, even if he was sort of a jerk who seemed to only be nice to Belle. His ass looked good in the standard uniform blue jeans, though, and he was meticulous about his shirt staying clean. He wore glasses with thin, gold frames, and sometimes Ruby would see him flinch, or shake his head, like he forgot he was wearing them.

Or, well, whatever. There was something so weird about him, which Ruby would have noticed anyway, even if cameras and microphones hadn’t been set up around the back of her lame after-school job. And Jefferson wouldn’t even tell her why.

“I bet he’s a millionaire looking for love,” she said as Weaver started taking the dishes from the top of the drying rack (dishes were the only thing he didn’t curse at).

“Ruby, please.” Belle sighed.

“I see the way he looks at you, you know. It’s some Romeo and Juliet shit. And you’re always the one being filmed with him.”

“Ruby, take your break.”

“Who is flyer than my love? The sun be a jealous ho who is no match.”

“‘The all-seeing sun ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.’” Belle corrected. “And that’s a quote about Rosaline, not Juliet. Also, how cliche can you get?”

“God, you would know it, you nerd.” She handed Belle the old containers, rolling her eyes as she did so.

“And you said my questions were weird and specific, and here you are, quoting Shakespeare.”

Ruby stuck her tongue out at Jefferson. “I’m studying it in school right now. Sue me.”

“Ruby, I am begging you—”

“Alright, alright.” She flounced to the register to sign out. “I’m not working window, though.”

“I agree,” Jeff said, turning to Belle with his wide, manic smile.

“Fine.” She threw up her arms, annoyed despite herself. “Weaver’s on window. Ruby, you’re front.”

Ruby cackled, even as she blew them a kiss. “I’ll see you babes in ten minutes.”

Belle turned back to Jefferson. “That means all the antics you had lined up aren’t going to work.”

He shrugged easily, pulling out a cell phone and tapping his messenger app. “Oh, that won’t be a problem at all. So, Belle,” Jefferson said, one eye on the screen. “That’s the third break that Ruby’s taken today. Why is that?”

“I’ve already explained this.”

Jefferson gestured to the camera, pinned to the metal shelf above them, the red indicator light glowing a reminder that no one has had any privacy in the past week.

With a sigh, Belle looked directly into the lense. “It’s company policy for any employee of Mr. Cluck’s Chicken Kitchen to be given one thirty-minute break for any shift that exceeds six hours. Since Ruby is a minor, she must be given an additional ten-minute break for every two hours she works, under Maine’s child labour laws.”

“You’re killing me, Belle.”

“I’m going to tell Weaver that he’s on window tonight.”

“Belle, I’m sorry for the switching, I know you were looking fo-”

“Whatever, Jefferson.”

“This really isn’t a dating show and I have plenty footage of you two together—“

“Not a big deal, Jefferson,” she said walking away.

Belle turned on her heel, moving past the fryers and heat lamps, into the deeper part of the back, where the washing station stood next to the freezer. The stockroom was across from there, and she made a mental note to grab medium cups after talking to Weaver, since Ruby hadn’t.

He was currently hosing down the cutting board. Belle slipped the containers she carried into the soapy water.

“I thought the point of fast food was to not have dishes,” Weaver said.

He had been making similar statements to her all week; what do you mean there’s no delete button on the registers, what do you mean Ruby is the only high schooler working here, what do you mean we have to wash dishes.

“There’s no solution in the cold bath,” Belle said, looking across him to the end of the large sink.

Weaver looked at her, then down to the clear water. They could see to the bottom, the metal shiny. The sink itself was actually pretty spotless, considering Weaver had been back here for the last past hour or so. If nothing else, Belle was going to miss him for keeping his stations clean.

“Excuse me?” he asked, eyeing her like he was trying to decide if she was pulling his leg.

Belle pointed to the blue lever above the three sectioned sink, turned to the left. “I’ve explained this to you three times, Weaver.”

“So explain it again,” he huffed. The tips of his ears (curled just so like a pixie’s) turned faintly pink.

“You wash the dishes with soap and hot water. Rinse all the suds off. Stick them in the cold bath.”

“Yeah, I got that down, thanks,” he grumbled, shaking out the pan he still held, the water droplets falling on the mats on the floor.

“We switched to putting tablets in the cold bath a month ago, so the blue lever doesn’t control anything anymore, and the sanitation stuff won’t come out when you fill up the sink.”

He scowled at her, his nose looking even more pointed as his eyebrows drew down. Everything about him was pointed, from his nose to his cheek bones, to his words.

“So nothing that’s been placed in there has been sanitized?”

“Unless the city has suddenly increased the amount of chlorine in the water, that would be a no.”

“That’s fucking fantastic, because that water has been sitting there for hours.”

“Don’t worry about it. No, I mean it—don’t look at me like that. Nothing about today has been real.” There were signs up all over the outside of the building warning customers that there was filming in progress, and Belle was pretty sure she had served more than her fair share of paid actors.

He sighed. “This week, you mean.”

Belle reached into the sink, pulling the metal plug up so the water could drain. She watched the whirlpool form, the water spinning round, round, round.

“This is bullocks.” Weaver dried his hands on the towel he had found shoved back somewhere in the cupboards, and Belle bit her lip to hide her fond smile; heaven forbid he have to wipe his hands on his pants like a normal person.

He turned so his back was to the sink, leaning his weight on the metal edge. Belle stamped down the impulse to shift closer to him, to feel the brush of his shirt against her arm, the heat of his skin. Clearly Ruby was getting to her.

“Jefferson wants to put you on window tonight, by the way,” she said with a forced air of casualty.

“With you?”

“No, with Keith.”

“Oh.”

Belle watched as his expression flattened, his mouth drawing a hard line.

When the last of the water vanished with a gurgle, Belle plugged the sink again, before ducking under and pulling out a plastic bottle full of the sanitation tablets. She plopped one in before turning on the water faucet.

“Jefferson isn’t the manager, you know, and doesn’t know the first thing about running this place. I say screw the cameras.”

Belle raised an eyebrow, amused. “You want to mutiny?”

“We can lock him in the walk-in until close.”

It was hard to see any downsides to the plan right then, Belle had to admit. “We could throw Keith in, too, and save ourselves that particular headache.”

He huffed, the humor leaving his expression as quickly as it came. “Mr. Cluck’s has an HR department. You should file a complaint about him.”

“We have.”

“I mean it. Call the head offices and ask for—” he paused, finally registering what she said. “Wait. What do you mean ‘we have?’”

Belle shrugged. “Last we were told was, the problem is being looked into, whatever that means.”

“And so you’ve just been patiently waiting for him to go away?”

“Oh, well, not exactly…”

“You can tell me.”

Belle shifted her feet. Her eyes strayed to the metal shelf that held the larger metal pots and pans, where she knew a hidden camera had been placed.

“Belle,” Weaver said, moving to stand in front of her, blocking her view. “You can tell me.”

She looked up into his sharp face. His eyes were wide, and so rich and brown, and damn, it might be cliche but they cut through her like coffee, a jolt that made her heart race. His gaze was intense, both friendly and angry on her behalf, and it felt good to have someone so unquestionably on her side.

“I asked a friend of mine to file a complaint with one of the other managers, thinking that maybe if it was a customer, someone would actually listen,” she said, her voice fast and low. She turned so she could lean her hip against the sink, so she was front to front with Weaver. “I actually asked several friends, but that was a month ago and nothing has changed. I think he might have found a way to hijack the review page, or maybe has some sort of deal with the GM. We keep complaining but nothing is happening.”

Weaver hummed, sounding unconvinced.

“I know it’s a borderline conspiracy theory, but—”

“No, no, I’m just remembering what my email said.”

Well that was a non sequitur.

“Excuse me?”

“When I agreed to do this show with Jefferson, he said that he had found the perfect store to stick me in, because of all the complaints.”

“The complaints,” Belle repeated.

“Jefferson forwarded me a few; you certainly aren’t the only one submitting them.”

Belle felt her face grow hot. “So what are you saying? That Keith hasn’t been fired because he makes for good television?”

Weaver’s tongue flicked across his lip. “This is reality TV. I’m sure this counts as mild for the strings producers have pulled before.”

“Mild,” Belle hissed. “You know, he’s been behaving himself with the cameras here. I’ve actually noticed an improvement in how he’s been acting. Also Ruby’s grandmother came in once to threaten him with an actual crossbow not too long ago, which helped Ruby out a lot.”

Weaver smiled, before scowling. “He’s still a wanker.”

“Belle! Weaver! Ruby’s back from break, it’s time to start!” Jefferson yelled.

As if on instinct, Belle grabbed his hand, finding the skin surprisingly smooth and warm. “You know,” she said, squeezing his fingers. “If you’re serious about locking Jefferson and Keith in the walk-in, the temperature is controlled on the outside.”

Weaver raised an eyebrow, his ears turning pink again, but his expression schooled into a careful mask of polite interest. “That so.”

Belle raised her eyebrows, trying to pull off an innocent look and not one like she was planning to inconvenience two people who kind of deserved it. If his answering smirk was anything to go by, she was failing miserably. “Yeah, you know. Depending on how tonight goes…”

She trailed off, and her words seemed to hang there. She felt his hand flex in her grip, but he didn’t pull away and she didn’t let go.

“Look,” he said, his voice low and deep, catching Belle somewhere in her belly. “This is just as much his last day as it is mine.” His eyes were so brown, and Belle leaned forward. “I promise you that.”

His eyes flickered down to her lips and, Belle could feel herself be pulled forward, her eyes closing. Her free hand slid around his waist, she could feel his breath at her lips—

“Belle! Weaver! The rush is—”

The producer’s shout was much closer this time, startling them. Weaver sprung back, but didn’t let go of Belle’s hand, effectively pulling her against him, since in Belle’s surprise her own hold tightened. Weaver’s knees caved under her weight, and he landed hard against the metal of the sink.

“God, I’m so sorry,” Belle said, finally relinquishing hands, only to run them up and down his arms, as if that’d make up for their combined embarrassment.

“Hey guys, as much as I encourage canoodling in forgotten corners, we have a finale to film,” Jefferson said with no small amount of smugness.

Belle rolled her eyes at his teasing, reluctantly pulling back. She licked her lips, hooded blue eyes meeting his, pupils blown wide. They were poised, ready to fall into each other. He brought a careful hand up to her temple and brushed a hair that had escaped from her ponytail.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Of course, yeah,” she said, feeling an easy smile tugging at her mouth.

His own smile was a tad more brittle. “I think I should apologize.”

“It can wait a couple hours,” Jefferson said.

Weaver shot him a look, before turning back to Belle.

“I’m not who you think I am.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He blinked, his face going slack in surprise. “You know?”

“What, you think I’m surprised that you’re someone else? Weaver, come on.” She rolled her eyes. “Your accent keeps changing from cockney to something vaguely Irish. I’m not an American; it doesn’t all sound the same to me.” She reached up adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, which had skewed somewhat on his face.

That got a surprised laugh out of him. “Okay, fair point. It’s not Irish, though.”

“Scottish, then,” Belle said.

“Weaver,” Jefferson snapped.

“Alright, alright.”

Belle giggled. “We’ll talk after, yeah?”

“After my impending humiliation, you mean? Of course.”

“You’ll be great,” Belle said. She impulsively stepped close, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Weaver made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, but he smiled, his ears a deep pink, as he followed Jefferson back towards the front.

Watching him go, Belle tried not to let her eyes stray to his backside. Feeling much better about the final night of filming, she made her own way back towards the front.

“Hey Belle, could you drop in some fries?” Ruby asked as she handed back a customer’s change.

A line was already forming at the register, and Ruby hardly spared her a glance as she greeted the next customer.

The dinner rush went smoothly, or at least as smooth as one could hope, with the crew having to weave around cameras and recording equipment.

“Dude, check out the rack on that broad.” Keith nudged Weaver with an elbow.

Belle pursed her lips, annoyed. Weaver, for his part, brushed Keith away with a short, “do your job.” He pointedly did not look at the video screen.

Okay, so it could have been going a lot smoother. Belle was in the middle, making sure both front and window had all the food they needed. It gave her ample opportunity to eavesdrop on Weaver.

“No, sir,” she heard Weaver groan in his headset. “I can’t get you a Big Mac. This isn’t McDonald’s.” She watched him shoot a glare to Jefferson, who was hovering just outside the manager’s office. “No, that doesn’t mean you can have a Whopper instead.”

“Customer’s always right, man,” Keith said as he stuck a straw in a bag.

“We don’t sell burgers,” Weaver muttered. “It’s in the bloody name of the restaurant.” He sighed as something else was said over the headset. “Yes, we have fries. No, you have to be more specific. Just how much is a fuck-ton, sir?”

Weaver rubbed at his temple, and Belle couldn’t help herself as she swiped the headset off and pressed it to her ear. She heard a long, spaced out voice: “Just, like, a lot, man okay? A lot of fries. A fuck-ton.” Weaver rolled his eyes at her as she handed the headset back to him.

“Man, I wish I had what he was smoking,” Keith said, listening through his own headset.

Weaver grunted as he put through an order of five large fries. He seemed to rather not acknowledge Keith’s existence at all, not that Belle could blame him. With Keith, it was best to just put your head down and pretend he didn’t exist. The stoner, a young man in an old volkswagen, pulled forward.

“Now there’s a chick I’d like to show a good time,” Keith said as the next car pulled up to the order screen.

Weaver grunted as he listened to her order, thankfully a regular combo meal with a diet Pepsi. He reached over for a cup, filling it with ice from the station right next to him.

“Seriously, you gotta be gay or something to not even look up.”

If the comment bothered him, he didn’t say; he didn’t react at all. Weaver snapped the lid on the drink, placing it in line to be passed through the window. He glanced at the order screen, making sure to get the extra sauce packets she wanted.

Belle watched as Keith slid the window open, and hoped that he wouldn’t say something dumb to the customer. She really did not want to apologise again because a customer wanted a manager immediately after Keith said something gross.

For once, he didn’t make any snide comments as he took payment for the order. He leaned out to hand her her drink and card back. Belle’s ears perked up automatically, already preparing to swoop in and offer her apologies.

“You have a good day, sugar,” he said.

Belle looked up at the video feed and saw the lady roll her eyes before rolling her window up. Releasing her breath, she turned to glare as Keith shut the window and busied himself preparing the next order, who was either oblivious to both her and Weaver’s obvious distaste, or, more likely just didn’t care

Whatever. If Weaver was to be believed, this was Keith’s last night anyway. Belle wondered if it was because his inappropriate behavior was caught on camera, or if Weaver had some sort of connection with the GA.

After that, things slowed down. Because it was the last night of filming, they were able to close early so Jefferson and the crew could easily pack up all their equipment.

Weaver opted to stay, to help Belle and Ruby close the restaurant for the night, instead of leaving with Jefferson.

“Are you sure?” Jefferson asked, raising his eyebrows like he was in on a secret. “We have an early morning tomorrow, remember.”

“As I’m well aware. I’ll be back at the hotel later, alright?”

Jefferson hummed, a salacious smile curving his mouth. “Don’t keep him out too late now, you hear, Belle?”

“For fuck’s sake, Jefferson,” he muttered.

“Some of us want to go home,” Keith called from the window where he was counting out the register.

“No, he’s right,” Ruby said, pushing a broom into Belle’s hands before either she or Weaver could respond. “You take the front. I’m pretty sure some lady left her kid’s used diapers under one of the booths and God knows I’m not paid enough to handle that right now.”

Belle sighed, exhausted with today, but she managed a smile in Weaver’s direction. “We still need to talk.”

He smiled back. “Yeah we do.”

So Belle went to the front to clear away the last of the garbage and restock the condiment stations. Ruby was right about the diapers, which absolutely was not the weirdest or even the worst thing Belle had ever found while closing.

As she was sweeping the last of the crumbs and wayward straw wrappers into the dustbin, she let her mind wander to the last few days, to Weaver and his careful, slow way of doing things. To how his arse looked in his jeans.

Belle heard Ruby yell. She was wary to classify it as a scream, because it wasn’t the sort of thing that was really meant to draw attention. Belle looked over to the register, but it was long since closed, and due to strategically placed walls and machines, Belle couldn’t see much else from where she was standing.

Ruby was such a teenager, always loud and dramatic. Belle wondered what it was that she had found that made her call out like that. Maybe Weaver made her unclog the drain, or Keith was being an asshole again and hiding in the stockroom.

Not thinking anything more about it, Belle picked up the dustpan just as she heard a crash from the back, and Ruby yell again.

“You’re a fucking creep, Keith.”

Belle dropped the dustpan, pushing open the swinging door marked Employees Only. She ran around the corner only to see the cart they used to move the sandwich fixings pushed over, the plastic containers scattered across the floor, the saran wrap doing little to keep them from spilling. Weaver had Keith bent over one of the counters, arms pinned uncomfortably half-way up his back.

With his greying hair and slim-build, Belle had assumed that Weaver wasn’t much of a fighter. Keith had clearly also made that wrong assumption; the man was scrappy.

“Everything okay?” Belle asked, somewhat at a loss.

Ruby was shaking a little, but for all Belle could tell it was more out of anger.

“Yes,” Keith said.

“No,” Ruby said, at the same time.

Anger flashed across Keith’s face, gone a deep tomato red, and he kicked a leg out, cursing. Belle stepped a little closer to Ruby.

“Come on man,” he said, trying to appeal to Weaver. “We were just messing around.”

“Messing around?” Weaver asked in a low voice. “Surely you know this girl is sixteen. She’s far too young for anyone to be messing around with.”

“It was a compliment. She should learn to take one.”

“Grabbing my ass isn’t a compliment. It’s fucking assault,” Ruby snarled. Her shoulders were tight and she was leaning slightly forward, like a wolf about to rush it’s victim.

Belle squeezed her shoulder. “How about you call your grandmother? Ask her to come pick you up.”

“I’m not a girl,” she said, shrugging Belle’s hand off.

It took Weaver a moment to realize he was being addressed. “What?”

“I’m not a girl,” Ruby said again, glaring.

Weaver sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yes you’re an independent young woman. I’m sorry, does that somehow make his behavior okay?”

His hold must have slackened, because the next thing Belle knew, Keith reared up, butting Weaver in the face with the back of his head, blow hitting just below his eye. He closed his eyes against the pain, hands letting go. Belle heard his glasses crack.

Ruby let out a shout of surprise, jumping back as Keith reeled around and threw a punch at Weaver’s face. Weaver responded on instinct, his left arm coming up to perry, then ducking and shoving Keith back, but Keith was just throwing random punches now.

Keith definitely landed a few more; Belle could see blood dripping from his cheek, but he shoved him back and jammed the palm of his heel up into Keith’s nose. Keith stumbled back, trying to find purchase on the counter that he had recently been pinned against.

Belle looked at the cart, left lying on the ground. As fast as she could, she pulled it up, gripped the handles, and ran forward.

Ruby would describe it as badass later when they were telling the story, but the truth was a lot less awesome. Belle yelled, getting Keith’s attention. He turned towards her, ready to lunge, when the cart hit Keith square between the legs. He doubled over, clutching the sides, when Weaver kicked at the wheels, toppling it and Keith back to the floor. He went down in a heap and seemed to be staying there.

“You fucking bitch,” Keith said, dazed and winded. Belle wondered if he had hit his head on the way down before realizing she didn’t care.

“Are you—” Weaver hesitated, not sure what to say.

“Fine. Just—fine. Are you? Jesus, Weaver, you’re bleeding.” She grabbed a towel and pressed it to his face, hoping he wouldn’t need any stitches. Weaver cringed at the pain, taking off his glasses. Instead of pulling away for asking that the towel be put under water first, he pressed his hand to hers. Her other hand came to rest on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he said softly.

“Uhm, so, should I call the cops?” Ruby asked, who had wrapped her hands around herself. She winced when Weaver’s eyes landed on her. “Sorry, man. I wasn’t thinking.”

“This is hardly your fault,” Weaver assured her. He toed Keith’s side, but he didn’t stir. He must have passed out.

“I can’t believe he did that,” Ruby said, not seeming to have heard. “I can’t believe he just attacked a movie star like that.”

“Movie star?” Weaver raised a bemused eyebrow.

“Reality TV is hardly Hollywood, Ruby,” Belle said with a tired sigh. Maybe cops were a good idea. She looked out at the spilled vegetables, sad and limp on the floor. She so didn’t want to be the one to clean it up.

“You know what, close enough.” She looked at the twisted frame in Weaver’s hand. “Are they broken? I thought I heard them break.”

“Oh,” he said, looking down. “They’re fake, actually. Doesn’t matter.”

“What, are they part of a costume? For your character?”

“Ruby—”

“I’m your boss, actually.” He was met with a confused silence. Weaver was clearly expecting more of a reaction, as he shrugged self-consciously. “I figured you ought to know now, at least.”

“Wait,” Ruby said with a frown. “You mean, like a new one? New management?”

“No, I mean I’m the owner of Mr. Cluck’s. My name is Robert Gold, and you work for me.”

“CEO!” Ruby says, smacking her forehead. “And Jefferson thought he was so slick.”

Weaver turned his brown eyes back to Belle, her hand still holding the towel against his cheek. “Sorry,” he said.

“That’s what you were trying to tell me earlier, isn’t it?”

“Jefferson wanted have a reveal done at headquarters—walk into the conference room, see me sitting there in my suit, all high and mighty.” Weav—Gold said.

“Like a bond villain,” Ruby said. “I can dig that.”

Belle laughed. Her head felt a little light, actually. “Jefferson is going to be pissed he didn’t get this on camera,” she said, looking back down to the ruined floor. She wondered if Gold had broken the cart when he kicked it.

“There are still the security cameras, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a few hidden ones still tucked away.”

“Does this mean Keith is fired?” Ruby asked.

“Keith is very much fired,” he said. He seemed to realize that his hand was still holding Belle’s, which in turn was holding the cloth to his split cheek. He pulled it down, not letting go.“Belle, I—I just want you to know—I’ve grown very fond of you in this short amount of time, and I realize this puts you in a strange position, and I—”

Belle cut him of, her hand going around his neck, to the back of his head, pulling him down towards her, allowing their lips to crash together. Their teeth knocked, and their noses fought for room, but he still moaned, his lips pulling at hers.

“Ew. Guys, come on.”

Belle pulled away first, her gaze locked on his. “Let’s get this sorted out, yeah? Then we can talk.”

He licked his lips, and Belle bit back a groan, already wanting another taste. “Yeah. Alright.”

[romancandlemagazine]

An Interview with Charlie Kelly

In the early ‘70s there was no such thing as mountain biking. A few people had tried putting knobbly tires on bikes and heading off-piste (most notably a man named John Finley Scott and his ‘woodsie bike’ in the early fifties) but no one had taken any notice. That is until a rag-tag gang of cyclists took to the hills of Marin County, California, armed with nothing more than pre-WW2 Schwinn cruisers. Although their explorations took them all over, the track that became famous was a particularly steep downhill fire-road called Repack (due to the fact that after just one run down it your forty year old coaster brake would need to be repacked with grease).

One of the main characters at Repack was Charlie Kelly, who as well as riding foot-out and flat-out down the track, organised and promoted the first downhill mountain bike races. He later went on to start the first mountain bike company with his room-mate Gary Fisher (the aptly titled MountainBikes) and was the man responsible for the Fat Tyre Flyer, which until 1986 was the only magazine devoted to off-road cycling escapades. Thanks to the wonders of the internet I managed to wangle an interview with him a few years back... and here it is.

Photographs taken from Charlie’s website, header photo by Larry Cragg.

First things first, how’s it going?

I have nothing to complain about. I still enjoy life and still ride bikes.

Can you explain what exactly Repack was, and how it all began?

Repack is a steep hill near Fairfax where most of our activities too place. When we decided to have a contest of downhill it was the perfect choice. Very steep and nearly 2 miles long, it was a severe test of bike and rider. A few of us went out there and held a race, thinking that we would do it once and settle all the bets forever. It didn’t work out that way. Everyone wants a shot at the title, so we held a lot more races.

Around the same time you were working as a roadie for the Sons of Champlin in San Francisco, what led you to racing old bikes down hills?

I was a cyclist at that time, a rarity in the circles I travelled in. I had been president of my bike club, Velo-Club Tamalpais, and Gary Fisher and I shared a house. We had some old bikes that we used as our “town bikes” instead of riding our Italian race bikes. There are a lot of dirt roads and trails near where we live, and eventually we took the bikes out on them. It was so much fun we took it up as a regular part of our activities. Some of the other members of the bike club had similar bikes, and so there were already a couple of dozen riders when we held our first race.

Alan Bonds, Benny Heinricks, Ross Parkerson, Jim Stern and Charlie Kelly striking a pose with their Schwinn Excelsiors. Note the custom Excelsior t-shirts printed by Alan Bonds

How many people turned up at the first race?

The record of that race is lost, although I have all the others. It was six or seven people.

How did you go about promoting the races?

It wasn’t difficult. As soon as some guys from a nearby town heard that we had held a race, they wanted to take part also. So we held another four days after the first one. I had a list of telephone numbers that I would call before a race. Eventually I had an artist make posters, but by then we had already been racing for a couple of years. The purpose of the poster was to create documentary evidence of who was doing this and when. I could see that it was getting pretty popular, so I wanted to make sure I got the credit for it. And I did.

Two flyers promoting the ‘Repack Downhill Ballooner’

How did find all those old Schwinns? Did you have to modify them or did you just ride them as you find them?

At first it was easy, because they were considered junk. The problem was that those old frames don’t last very long when they are ridden the way we used them. Every six months or so I would need another. They became much harder to find, and the price was climbing rapidly.

It wasn’t long before you and your friends were designing your own bikes, what improvements did you make?

The most basic improvement was to make it out of chrome-moly steel. The old bikes were made of cheap steel that was heavy and not nearly as strong as modern bike tubing. Cantilever brakes were not as effective in wet weather as the old drums, but they were much lighter. Most of the other components were the same as we used on converted clunkers.

Can you give us an idea of what an average run down Repack was like?

If you’re not terrified, you’re not going to win. You have to ride right up to the edge of control and not make any mistakes that cost you time. The course is not technically challenging compared to a modern course made for long-travel bikes, but to date no one has shattered the old records set on clunker bikes. I believe that the reason we were so fast on the low-tech equipment is that we had a lot of races and plenty of practice on the course.

I remember reading stories about people skidding under fire-road gates at around 40mph, is there any truth in this?

40 mph on a road bike feels pretty fast. The average speed for the record run is around 27 mph. Obviously the top speed is faster than the average speed, but 40 mph seems a little high.

Alan Bonds with a foot-out, denim-heavy slice of high-action

Joe Breeze, Tom Ritchey, Gary Fisher… a fair few fast characters raced at Repack. Now the dust has settled a bit, who was actually the fastest?

Gary holds the record, but Joe won nearly half the races. Otis Guy has the third fastest time by only a couple of seconds, and on the run where he set it, a dog ran in front of him and brought him almost to a complete stop. If not for that, I believe he would hold the record.

Did things ever get heated on the mountain or was it all just a bit of fun?

It was always fun, but there were five or six riders who were the top guys, and the only real competition was among them. Since we started the fastest riders last, when it got down to just those guys and me, the starter at the top of the hill, things got very very quiet. Each guy would be by himself, getting his “game face” on.

When you weren’t racing at Repack, where else were you riding around this time?

I was always a road rider, although my racing career was brief and unspectacular. Most of the clunker rides were not competitive, but just a group headed out on trails.

Fred Wolf on ‘Camera Corner’

If all the old pictures are anything to go by, plaid shirts, old jeans and boots seemed to be the uniform of choice, why was this?

It was the way most of us dressed anyway. I haven’t owned a necktie or a suit in a long time. If I got on the road bike, I changed into a jersey and shorts, but the whole idea of the clunker was that you just got on it.

You started the first mountain bike magazine, The Fat Tyre Flyer, in 1980. What led you to start a magazine?

It was an accident. We thought about forming a mountain bike club, so a few of us held a meeting. At the meeting my girlfriend (Denise Caramagno) and I volunteered to do the club newsletter. The club never had another meeting, but once we published the cheaply printed newsletter, people begged us to keep publishing it. So we did. Eventually I actually learned how to publish a magazine.

In an article you wrote in 1979 you said, “The sport that is going on here may never catch on with the American public.” Were you surprised when it did?

I’m still surprised. How could anyone have predicted that a goofy hobby that most people laughed at would take over the world?

Do you still ride mountain bikes now?

Sure do, and they are much nicer than the ones I started on. Gary Fisher has made sure that I ride quality equipment, currently a pair of Gary Fisher 29ers.

Nowadays you work as a piano mover. Can you divulge any tricks of the trade?

I figured most of it out by doing it. There are certain qualities that are vital, in addition to being reasonably strong. Size matters. A 200 pound guy can do more than a very strong 150 pound guy. (Unfortunately, size also matters in bike racing, but in the other direction, which explains my undistinguished bike racing career.)

My aptitude for “spatial relations” always tested very high. I can visualize three-dimensional concepts, but I’m pretty sure all piano movers are like that. Being smart is as important as being strong, and you need both qualities. No two situations are identical, but with years of experience you can usually find a comparison to something you did before, which shortens the process of deciding how to approach a job.

Anything else you’d like to say?

Buy my book, entitled “Fat Tire Flyer.” Maybe we’ll do an English version and spell it properly, “Fat Tyre Flyer.”

Charlie's book is available now.

For more information on mountain bikes and piano moving, do yourself a favour and take a look at Charlie’s amazing website.

[beingallelite]

Expectations are high for the inaugural AEW World Championship match between Chris Jericho and Adam Page, a ladder match between the Lucha Brothers and The Young Bucks for the AAA world tag team titles, and Cody Rhodes vs. Shawn Spears to settle their deeply personal feud.

Seven other bouts fill out the mid-card with intriguing stakes and storylines. It's also the last major event before AEW's weekly show begins Oct. 2 on TNT.

Here's the breakdown of every announced match at AEW's All Out.

Where and How to Watch

All Out will be held Saturday, Aug. 31, at Sears Centre in Chicago.

Those in the U.S. and Canada can order the event for $49.99 on B/R Live or through cable providers.

The main card starts at 8 p.m. ET, preceded by a two-match pre-show called The Buy In at 7 p.m.

Main Card

Chris Jericho vs. Adam Page (inaugural AEW World Championship)

Lucha Brothers (c) vs. Young Bucks (ladder match for AAA world tag team championship)

Cody Rhodes vs. Shawn Spears

Kenny Omega vs. Pac

Best Friends vs. The Dark Order (winner earns a first-round bye in the AEW world tag team championship tournament)

Darby Allin vs. Jimmy Havoc vs. Joey Janela

Luchasaurus, Jungle Boy and Marko Stunt vs. SoCal Uncensored

Riho vs. Hikaru Shida

The Buy In

21-woman Casino Battle Royale (winner earns a match for the inaugural AEW women's world championship)

Private Party vs. Angelico and Jack Evans

Private Party vs. Angelico and Jack Evans

This should be a good one to warm up the Chicago crowd before All Out's main card begins. Both tag teams are athletic and charismatic, which should translate to a fun match.

Private Party's Buy In match at Fyter Fest against Best Friends and SoCal Uncensored gave many fans their first glimpse at Isiah Kassidy and Marq Quen as a tag team.

It was a good AEW debut and especially impressed executive vice presidents Matt and Nick Jackson, better known as The Young Bucks, who offered the duo full-time contracts backstage after the match.

Private Party and The Young Bucks face off in the first round of the AEW world tag team championship tournament on Oct. 9.

At All Out, Private Party goes up against Angelico and Jack Evans, who lost their two previous matches at Double or Nothing and Fight for the Fallen. It'll be interesting to see if they play a role in the tag team tournament.

21-Woman Casino Battle Royale

You might remember the men's version of the Casino Battle Royale from Double or Nothing. It was the first match in AEW history, and Page won to clinch his spot in the inaugural AEW world championship bout.

The women's version will also have similar stakes, with the winner earning a shot at the AEW women's world championship Oct. 2 at the weekly show's first event in Washington D.C.

Britt Baker, Nyla Rose and Brandi Rhodes are just a few of the announced participants, but there's still roughly half the field to fill out. It's not a reach to expect a couple surprises in this one.

Riho vs. Hikaru Shida

Fans will be relatively familiar with Riho, the only women to compete in all three of AEW's previous events. She faced off against Hikaru Shida on opposite teams during their six-woman tag match at Double or Nothing.

Although not officially signed to AEW full-time, Riho comes highly praised by executive vice president Kenny Omega who has worked with the 22-year-old in Japan since she was 14.

Shida, meanwhile, is a 15-time world champion during her work for various Japanese promotions.

The 31-year-old will be eager to continue showcasing the Japanese women's wrestling style of Joshi with her compatriot to a North American audience.

Luchasaurus, Jungle Boy and Marko Stunt vs. SoCal Uncensored

A matchup between one of the fastest-growing acts in AEW against a veteran three-man tag team that rarely underperforms was added earlier this week to the All Out card.

Luchasaurus and Jungle Boy, charmingly known as "A Boy and His Dinosaur," quickly won fans over at Fight for the Fallen as a babyface tandem during their three-way match against The Dark Order and Angelico and Jack Evans.

Their chemistry is already there, and the fighting spirit of Jungle Boy as an undersized high-flyer balances well with the physically imposing Luchasaurus.

They added Marko Stunt to their team, another diminutive high-flyer who made a name for himself at Fight for the Fallen by delivering a hurricanrana off the top turnbuckle to an opponent of his two newest comrades. Let's see how he fits into the already-over tag team.

SCU's short-handed team of Frankie Kazarian and Scorpio Sky lost their previous two matches, but their win at Double or Nothing came with Christopher Daniels completing the three-man stable.

What effect will he have on the team this time, and how could this match factor into AEW's tag team tournament?

Darby Allin vs. Jimmy Havoc vs. Joey Janela

All three of these men have pulled off an array of extreme spots in their early AEW tenure.

Although this match doesn't technically have any hardcore stipulation, it would be surprising if we didn't see a couple of heart-pounding moments from it.

After the trio competed in a tag team together at Fight for the Fallen and lost, they took their frustrations out on each other by brawling backstage.

None of them have won a match at AEW yet, so it'll be interesting to see in which direction this match goes.

Best Friends vs. The Dark Order

Both teams are coming off good performances after Best Friends defeated Private Party and SoCal Uncensored at Fyter Fest and The Dark Order outlasted A Boy and His Dinosaur and Angelico and Evans at Fight for the Fallen.

Both matches were fast-paced, but that won't necessarily translate to this one as neither team is known for high-flying.

Instead, expect more of an old-school tag team match that's grounded and tries to tell a story more through in-ring psychology than jaw-dropping spots.

The winner earns a first-round bye in the AEW world tag team championship tournament. Although the rest of the bracket hasn't been announced, The Dark Order are likely favorites in this one considering how they've been pushed as top tag heels to this point.

Pac vs. Kenny Omega

This isn't the match we originally expected, but it'll certainly do.

With Jon Moxley being forced to pull out of his match against Omega due to a staph infection, Pac (formerly known as Neville in WWE), got the call as a replacement.

Although he was one of the first signings in AEW's history, the former WWE cruiserweight champion makes his debut for the promotion after creative differences kept him off the previous events.

It begs the question: Was the plan for Pac to always make an appearance at All Out in some fashion? It likely wasn't going to be as an announced competitor in order to keep his debut a surprise, but it seems rather coincidental that he happened to be available after having creative differences at past shows.

Regardless, another well-known name on the roster is a good thing for AEW. Let's see how this match affects Pac's early trajectory with the company.

As for Omega, he still seems to have his attention on Moxley.

Rather than just forget about his original match, AEW capitalized on the moment for when their highly anticipated bout does eventually come and added another layer to their budding rivalry with this promo from Omega:

Cody vs. Shawn Spears

All Out is stacked with intriguing matches. The feuds developed over the first three shows in company history laid the foundation for Saturday's event. None have gotten as deeply personal as Cody Rhodes vs. Shawn Spears, though.

The feud began with no obvious backstory as to why Spears plastered Cody on the head with a chair at Fyter Fest. It's blossomed because of the intricate storytelling AEW fans hoped to see from the young promotion.

After Spears laid Cody out with a chair shot, he brought in wrestling legend Tully Blanchard for psychological insight into what he can expect from his opponent at All Out.

Blanchard and Spears added a clause in the match contract stating only one person would be allowed in the corner of each competitor during the bout. It was obvious who would accompany Spears, but who accompanies the AEW executive vice president has yet to be announced.

Could it be Brandi or MJF? Could we see someone from Blanchard's past who can match wits with the Horseman? There are plenty of options, most of whom already have their own stake in the feud. The surprise addition will add another layer to this bout.

This is the promotion's first real test in building a storyline that stretched for months, and so far it's worked. AEW's four events before its weekly show begins have given the promotion the opportunity to get its feet wet creatively. This feud has yet to feel far-fetched or disingenuous.

The match itself is what fans will really remember. If both wrestlers—and everyone else involved in the match—can deliver a satisfying finish, it would be a strong bridge to the start of AEW's weekly television.

Lucha Brothers vs. The Young Bucks (Ladder match: AAA World Tag Team Championship)

This rivalry between two of the top tag teams in the world reaches new heights in what's being referred to as an "Escalera de la Muerte", the Lucha Brothers' version of a ladder match.

It's unknown just how different this will be from a typical ladder match, but The Young Bucks did hint at this playing into the Lucha Brothers' style as well as the potential addition of tables.

It seems these tag teams are destined to put on great match after great match at this point, and adding ladders to their rivalry keeps things fresh.

The Young Bucks defeated the Lucha Brothers at Double or Nothing before teaming with Kenny Omega to hand Ray Fenix and Pentagon Jr. another loss in a six-man tag match at Fyter Fest.

It's already known that The Young Bucks will face Private Party in the first round of the AEW tag team tournament, so it's unlikely they will strip the Lucha Brothers of the AAA titles.

However, this match could be further proof that AEW is serious about being an industry leader with their tag team division rather than just an afterthought. The Young Bucks are leading that charge as executive vice presidents of the company and hope to continue backing up their words with a good display.

Adam Page vs. Chris Jericho (AEW World Championship)

The All Out card ends with a bit of history as AEW crowns its first world champion.

Page, who won the Casino Battle Royale at Double or Nothing to earn his spot in the title match, comes into All Out undefeated after additional wins over Jimmy Havoc, Jungle Boy and MJF in a four-way match at Fyter Fest and most recently a victory over Kip Sabian at Fight for the Fallen.

After his last match, Jericho ambushed Page and left him with a battered eye. Later that night, "Hangman" returned the favor and assaulted his rival before both men were pulled apart by a plethora of officials, referees and wrestlers.

Jericho defeated Omega in the main event of Double or Nothing for a shot at the inaugural AEW World Championship. Since then, the former WWE world champion has demanded a thank you from fans for putting AEW on the map.

Will we see him add another major title to his long list of accolades or will Page actually ride a horse out of the Sears Centre?