#i could make a great sports fan. but i don know if i care enough to learn about the players which everyone else seems to do

[kattitude130]

i am not really a sports person but i did play basketball in middle school and we never won a game but i did like playing it and now whenever a game is on a TV i’ve noticed i get like, *really* into it, i feel the urge to stand up and clap and yell at the screen (usually can’t because other people are also in the room and they’re not as excited as i am, despite being the ones who put it on). i never have any idea who’s playing or any of the teams and i don’t feel the need to learn, it is purely for the love of the game

[funtimebunnyblog]

Let's all raise a glass to you, Surey! 🥰😇❤ Please enjoy!

The Pillarmen go out to a Bar with you! 🍻

(Under the cut for length...)

Kars:

• Kars isn't really a person to go out to drink.

• If anything, he prefers to enjoy a drink or two at Home and unwind with a book or in a bath.

• However, if you want to take him out on the town he doesn't refuse you, even though he's not the biggest fan of bars or nightclubs and the crowds of people that come with it.

• If this was something that made you happy, than he supposed it would all be worthwhile to let you enjoy yourself.

• When going out to a bar or a club, those are the nights he dons his dark coat and hat (despite how you may plan to dress for the evening) and walks arm in arm with you down the street to the place of your choice.

• You better had pick a good one because he's not a man to hop from place to place in one night. He makes it very clear that it's here and then Home.

• The majority of the night he prefers to sit quietly at the bar or at a booth in the far corner, silently nursing a glass of vodka or red wine.

• He'll let you dance and socialize and enjoy yourself all you want but don't expect him to do the same.

• Kars will also monitor how much you're drinking and don't think he won't cut you off if he's deemed you've had enough.

• For your safety, he keeps his eyes on you at all times as he doesn't exactly trust these kinds of establishments and he knows how truly disgusting Humans can be if given the chance.

• It's no surprise he has absolutely no tolerance for riff raff or drunks should they happen to be around.

• Anyone who's sober (or anyone with a brain for that matter) wouldn't dare to bother him, simply by the powerful and inhuman aura he emits just sitting there.

• Once on a night out, a drunk man who was entertaining himself by going around and poking people made the mistake of staggering up to Kars where he sat, reaching out and tapping him right on the nose.

• Surprisingly very calm about it, Kars watched him stumble away laughing with little more than a glare before rising to his feet. The song had suddenly changed in that moment and couples were dancing to some upbeat music, Kars left his glass behind at the bar and approached you on the dance floor.

• It shocked you to say the least when Kars approached and took your hand and asked for a dance to which you happily obliged.

• This was a little odd for Kars to want to dance in public but you didn't think to question it.

• As the dance floor crowded and people danced away the drunk man made his rounds again, laughing as he went around and tapped people on the nose, pinched their cheek or flicked them on the chin. Kars had his eyes set on him the entire time he danced, waiting with all the patience in the world.

• The unsuspecting man passed bye Kars one more time and the altercation was fast. Very fast. So very momentary even you didn't see it happen.

• Kars spun you around with one hand and with the other he curled his fist and punched the drunk man straight under his chin, knocking him to the floor, completely unconscious.

• Kars continued to dance with you like nothing at all happened as people suddenly took notice, crowding around the floored drunk questioningly.

• "Hmm," Kars peered over his shoulder, lips pursed and the very definition of unbothered. Not a soul (not even you) suspected a thing. "It would seem he's had too much to drink."

• In Kars' opinion, that was more merciful than the man deserved.

• On the nights where you're drunk, you can bet that he's grumbling the entirety of the time dragging you Home.

• Listening to you giggle and chatter on without a care in the world, slurring your words and relying on him to keep upright might've warmed his heart if he wasn't aware of the complete mess you would be in the morning.

• Kars isn't one to baby you when you're hungover either.

• You did this to yourself and he did warn you not to drink so much afterall.

• But he's not cruel to you when you're hungover. He'll smoothe your hair and rub your back if you happen to get sick. He'll also make you drink plenty of water and he'll let you rest as long as you need to.

• As long as you had fun and keep enjoying these little nights out he doesn't mind all the displeasing parts that come with it. Your happiness is truly what matters to him in the end.

Esidisi:

• Quite the opposite of Kars, Esidisi LOVES going out on the town for a couple of drinks with you.

• In fact, he's got a number of favourite places around to pick but he'll always ask you for your approval when making the decision.

• Chances are, when you and him are such frequent Bar goers together, EVERYONE at your favourite spots will know you!

• Esidisi sometimes likes to go the extra mile for the occasion and throw on something sexy but still casual. Long sleeved, colourful shirts halfway unbuttoned and some jewelry always does the trick for him.

• The most memorable nights for you both is when there's a new place opened up in town and the two of you go to check it out, meet some new people and maybe dance a little.

• It's probably safe to say that Esidisi's favourite thing to do is mess with any drunks that happen to be around.

• He'll sit at the bar as you drink and socialize with some of your friends, surrounded by a bunch of tipsy Humans, using his powers to do the oddest tricks for money.

• The crowd goes absolutely wild no matter how many times they see him make a glass of cold beer boil using just his hand.

• Chances are, Esidisi might end up being more drunk than you the majority of these nights because of his entertaining nature.

• "You can't possibly drink that whole glass in one go." The Bartender frowned at the Pillarman skeptically after he had made that outrageous claim. "It's not possible."

• Esidisi could only grin at him as he put the glass to his lips. Without another word he threw back his head, sucking down the cold, inky Beer in one massive gulp; foam and all.

• The Bartender (now not so skeptical) and the man sitting to Esidisi's left, who had been nursing his 2nd glass of the same stuff for about 10 minutes now, could only stare at him, awestruck.

• "Aw Hell," he gaped. "I'd pay 20$ to see that again!"

• 20$ was put down and another glass gone within seconds; just the same as the first. A crowd began to draw around the bar and the massive man seated there.

• 40$, 80$, 150$, 300$ bets were laid out on the counter and Esidisi rightfully collected ALL of it as he just kept drinking, each glass gone in a single gulp.

• Needless to say, you're gonna be screwed if you're drunk yourself on nights like that because stuffing a Pillarman whose drank his body weight in alcohol into a Cab to try and get him Home isn't an easy job.

• Most especially when said drunkard Pillarman keeps insisting he's NOT drunk, whines he doesn't wanna go Home yet and keeps trying to go back inside.

• When Esidisi is hungover the next day it's not a treat either. Be prepared for WHINING.

• However, if you happen to be the hungover one he's probably one of the best caregivers you could ask for.

• He'll chuckle as he gives you some ibuprofen and water, telling you all about the great time you both had (if you happen to have forgotten) and how you took your drinks like an absolute champ.

• Needless to say, he's always down for a night out at a bar with you.

Wamuu:

• Admittedly, Wamuu was a little on the inexperienced side when it came down to drinking or going to places like bars.

• Overtime with you however, he grows more accustomed to the concept of both.

• When you take him out to a bar for a couple of drinks he doesn't really dress up for the occasion unless you tell him to. He prefers to just put on a clean white T-shirt, sweatpants and maybe a hoodie.

• You'll have to order his drink for him on the first few nights out together because he honestly doesn't know what he likes or what to have.

• The variety of alcohol (let alone the amount of brands under a single kind) was a little overwhelming to him.

• "--and what will you have?" "Um... beer?" "What kind, sir?" "..... um.... beer?"

• He's happy to let you drink and socialize if you wish to but he'll be a little lost if you leave him alone at the bar with his drink and a bunch of strangers to go to the washroom.

• Surprisingly however, it isn't hard for him to make some friends when that happens.

• With nothing else to do, he'll be watching whatever sports game is happening on one of the many TV's as he sips away at his drink.

• The game doesn't really interest him (he doesn't even understand the point of it) but he picks up on the habit of cheering when other people in the bar cheer and celebrate for their team.

• Because of that, other men and sportsfans alike will just flock to Wamuu under the impression he's a fellow sportsfanatic (or maybe even a sports player himself due to his massive size).

• By the time you come back, he's surrounded by a gaggle of sportsfans all cheering and highfiving Wamuu, patting him on the back, punching his shoulder and offering him plenty more to drink.

• He just shrugs at you when he catches your confused gaze from across the bar as he's not really sure what's going on either.

• Though he's content to let you drink and enjoy yourself, he knows very well when you've had quite enough to drink. He will straight up pick you up and carry you Home if need be.

• "Kisssh me, Wammmmuu." You half-giggled, sluggishly trying to pull yourself more upright to give his absolutely delectable looking lips the smooching you so wanted to as he closed the door of your apartment behind him.

• The Warrior sighed, patting your head. "Oh beloved, I am most honored you want to but you're drunk, it's not right..." he told you gently, carrying you all the way to your bedroom to lay you down despite any protests you might make.

• After giving you plenty of water and tucking you in (you at least get a goodnight kiss on the head), he'll keep an eye on you until the morning and ensure all your needs are met when you're hungover.

• If you ask him, he'll admit that he had fun and has no objections to going out again next weekend.

Santana:

• Much like Kars, Santana isn't exactly the biggest fan of noises or crowds of Humans in one settlement.

• Be prepared for him to crinkle his nose at the thought of going to a bar or a club where all of that happens under one roof.

• After some coaxing however, he'll agree but mostly for your sake.

• He wants to see you happy and he knows that nights out for some fun and social interaction was healthy for Humans.

• Besides, he also saw this as an opportunity to study Humans and try to understand their behavior a little better.

• Santana will throw on some street clothes and follow you wherever you want to go that night; whether its near or far, big or small.

• When going to a bar he's more interested in the food there rather than the drink.

• In fact; you'll come to find that he LOVES Bar food.

• The waitress will barely turn her back for a second before the basket of nachos she just delivered him has suddenly ceased to exist and he's asking for more.

• With an appetite like that, the Bar staff asks him if he wants to try their challenge of eating a HUGE meal under a set amount of time. If he wins he gets the meal free and all the drinks you order tonight free, his next meal here free and his picture on the Bars wall of fame.

• He only agrees to the challenge because he likes the sound of free food.

• The food comes and Santana makes it on the wall of fame easily in record time. The Owner of the place is absolutely gobsmacked with the fact that Santana scarfed down an ENTIRE 10 pound burger in less than 2 minutes.

• Santana will stare at the menu of drinks for the longest time, mouthing out the names of drinks and brands curiously. He'll want you to explain him what everything is but he honestly won't know what he'll like.

• He absolutely doesn't like beer. Not at all.

• The first sip of the first glass given to him was promptly spit out. Santana's mouth twisted into a bitter knot, pushing the glass FAR away and shaking his head frantically to try and rid of the disgusting yeasty film left on his tongue.

• You'll have to order him something more appealing in taste if you want him to drink at all.

• You'll find that he comes to enjoy a more sweet and fruity tropical drink like a Piña colada.

• "How is it?" You ask, a smile tugging at your mouth when you notice a little gleam in his eye as he put the colourful drink to his lips. He definitely looked less miserable than he had a moment ago.

• "Hmm," a little pink tongue darted out to swipe along his upper lip, his thumb fiddling with the tiny umbrella sitting on the ridge of the glass. "sweet. Pleasing."

• Because of his newfound love for the sweet tropical tasting booze you might have to monitor how much he has to be on the safe side as you weren't sure whether Santana would handle intoxication well.

• However, if you decide to let go and have one too many Santana will put his arm around you and firmly tell you it's time to go Home.

• He doesn't really know the first thing about the care and feeding of a hungover Human but he'll do anything you ask of him.

• You need water? He's got two bottles ready for you. Head hurt? He'll sprint to the store for Ibuprofen for you. The sunlight in the window bothering you? He'll cover that window using his own body if he has to.

• You might just be surprised when he asks you if you and him could go to another bar soon for more good food and a couple more drinks...

[awake-dearheart]

it took me a couple days but here’s a rundown of things sebastian said during the zoom call with his trainer don saladino and the march challenge group. he was on for an hour and three minutes total. keep in mind this challenge was fitness oriented so most of the questions revolve around that. this will also be LONG.

first of all he had trouble unmuting himself which was hilarious

he had a carboard cutout of the falcon with him which made everyone laugh

he loved being able to support ronald mcdonald house and he was sad they couldn’t go this year. sweet baby

when he was asked what he struggles with in his fitness he immediately said body dysmorphia. like no hesitation. he said he felt like he could stand to be less hard on himself.

he prefers cardio over other kinds of workouts.

he mentioned a role he’s getting ready for that’s “a lot different” but he laughed it off and said he couldn’t talk about it. i’m thinking it might have been tommy lee?

he tries to workout even just a little before he goes to set even when his schedule is crazy.

when he started training he had NO idea what he was doing. it took him a while to get into a routine and figure it out. he credited don with working a lot with him and finding a routine that works for him.

he feels better when he can do something physical every day. he said it really helps him mentally because the two go hand in hand for him.

someone said they were learning romanian and asked him for phrases to learn in romanian he said (in romanian) “oh my GOD why would you do that?” he also said he thinks people learning romanian because of him is “one of the sweetest things.”

he was asked how he balances training to look good vs training to feel good and he said if he’s training to look good he’s never 100% satisfied. training to feel good and setting short term goals has been better for him. 

don praised him for working hard to pivot his focus on the overall vs the day to day. seb said it was a lot harder when he started than it is now.

someone asked him if the workouts or the nutrition was harder and he immediately started talking about pizza and how much he loves a good cheat meal. the chat blew up talking about his cheat day video for men’s health. 

seb asked don his favorite cheat meal and they went on a tangent about burgers and fries and vodka that had us cracking up. seb said he went through a period where he was eating some kind of chocolate every day.

someone asked if he found it mentally difficult to go from one body type to another for roles and he said absolutely. he said if he has a shirtless scene to do then a month before he cuts out ALL sugar. fruits, carbs, everything and he turns into a very irritable person for about two weeks.

he was asked how the pandemic has changed his training and he said of course it has. him and don worked together to create a program for him to do from home with dumbbells and they had to get inventive. he’s been running a lot too.

someone asked the strangest item he’s used for weights and he said he’d go to the grocery store by himself without uber or anything. he tried to do one big shopping trip to last him for a week and half and he’d be laden with bags and it took him an hour and a half to walk home.

he told a story about using a towel and a bar in his house and he said “you probably know it because some “super fans” love to leak my address. so kind. lovely people.” the chat became v enraged.

he’s never had to get in shape on super short notice. marvel usually gives him about a 2 month heads up before he has to shoot things.

someone asked if he was a dog person. he said he loves dogs and he’d love to have one but he travels too much to give one the right kind of attention. he said if he could have a dog he’d have a bulldog or a husky.

he was asked his favorite nyc cheat meal and his first answer was “seeing all of you there” and we all cracked up. his real answer was a pizza place called rubirosa. he specifically likes their white pizza. (who wants to go to new york and get pizza with me?)

who would win in an iso squat challenge? him or don? (iso squats are when you drop into a squat and you hold it. it’s been the most hated exercise throughout the challenge). his face was HORRIFIED when he remembered what they are and he said don would definitely win. “don you have thighs of glory” the group is contemplating making shirts.

he played some sports in school but he wasn’t a super athletic kid. he struggled in school a bit because he had an accent and people were picking on him. it took a long time for his confidence to build.

celebrate victories where you can. he talked about when he posted that shirtless picture from the gym as an example. he said it’s more for motivation and pride in his achievements than about showing off.

he mentioned the documentary “the weight of gold” as something he watched recently. he said it’s a good example of people who are gold medal olympians struggling with the same things as everyone else when it comes to fitness. he comes back several times to not being too hard on yourself. 

he hasn’t lifted any weights in about a month and a half but he’s been running. he’s surprised at the amount of muscle he still has because he thought he’d lose a lot of it.

taking breaks when you’re working on fitness is so important. he says taking a week off sometimes is ok if that’s what you need.

they have talked about pizza at least 5 times at this point (32 minutes in) and it’s HILAROUS honestly.

he hates leg day. he knows how important it is because you need strong legs but he prefers doing arms and chest. “the squats can be so annoying UGH.”

someone asked him his advice for people who are starting an acting career and he laughed and said “quit all social media.” he walked it back and said you have to find a way to quiet the noise. 

this mfer went to theatre camp when he was 15 and he did MUSICALS. we tired to get him to sing. it didn’t work.

“you gotta do you. you cannot lose you as you’re going. and you cannot care what people think.”

he talked about imposter syndrome in terms of getting reviews and stuff. he said when he gets bad reviews it hurts but sometimes when he gets good reviews he can think “oh my god they made a mistake” or “oh my god i have to deliver like this every time.” he said if you’re starting out ask yourself why you want to do this and make sure this is what you want to do day in a day out. make sure when you face rejection and obstacles you have the energy to push you to get back up and say “fuck you i’m doing me.”

recommended the book “the subtle art of not giving a fuck” as something he loves.

“there’s creativity in everything. you don’t have to be a pianist or an actor or a writer. there’s creativity in all functions. as people we’re all creative.”

he went back to instagram for a minute and said to use it for the right things and follow the things that you like or are inspired by. he loves that social media can be used to reach people but you have to filter through the negative stuff.

someone asked the meanest thing don’t ever said during training and he said don’s never been mean but he’s always been inspiring and motivating for him. cute lil bromance moment.

he was asked if it’s harder to get into shape physically for the winter soldier or mentally. he said now it’s more of a head thing than it was in the beginning. the physically part was challenging for him in the beginning because he wanted to feel strong to build his confidence. he felt he couldn’t be bucky without being strong. 

civil war was his real hair but when they started filming it wasn’t long enough so he had extensions. by the end of the shoot it was long enough to cut the extensions out. 

the line between overtraining and not being motivated to train enough is hard for him sometimes. things tend to come all at once or not at all and it can be a struggle. 

he meditates and does some kind of physical activity every day at the start of his day. it makes him able to do the things he needs to do for the rest of the day better.

he thanked everyone for their support of tfaws and “making us look pretty good.” he’s very grateful for the turnout.

don says falcon weird. that’s not important but i wanted to mention it.

running is his go to thing. he feels like it’s a good meditative thing for him.  his go to pandemic workout was 100 pull ups, 100 push ups, 100 sit ups, 100 squats and alternating with running. we all panicked and were like “100 PULL UPS AT ONCE??” and he was like no no no no no no no no space that shit out during the day.

he loves breakfast but he doesn’t eat it at breakfast time. he joked he was going to eat breakfast after the call (which ended at 7PM). he likes anything with eggs and avocado. 

there are still directors he wants to work with that he can’t get to see him for parts. he did three audition tapes, two in person auditions, and a screen test to get bucky.

he just recently learned what “thirst pics” are (he figured out from the chat it’s thirst traps). when someone told him that picture from the gym was a thirst trap he was like “oh great well that sounds terrible.” men’s health didn’t call him until after that pic. he had reached out to them before that but that was the thing that made them call.

“make fun of yourself. you have to not take yourself too seriously.”

they both talked about how being able to do things like this is a privilege. there are always days when seb or don or anyone walks into a gym and doesn’t want to be there.

this is the part that made me emotional as FUCK. he’s had days where he’s gone to set and been like “what the fuck am i doing?” he says every time that happens he thinks “this is the time they’re gonna realize i can’t do this. this is when they’re all gonna know i’ve never been good at this.” he said in those moments you can’t just say “no no no i’m the best.” he said sometimes affirmations work and they can be as simple as “i’m gonna try to have a good day today” and it doesn’t have to be “i have to be the best version of myself.” it can just be “i wanna have a good day today” but on the days when you don’t feel good about things and don’t know what you’re doing he said you have to go there and say “ok i don’t know what the fuck i’m doing. fuck everything.” be in the thing that’s happening to you and give yourself permission to be down for a minute. find a compromise with yourself. if you can’t run the same three miles you’ve run all week and you just don’t want to, maybe you go for a walk instead. (his example not mine i DO NOT run). when he’s been in those moments of defeat accepting it had lead him to things he didn’t plan for and he finds those moments to be gifts in a way. accepting it and saying “today is that day” your body and your mind can start moving into finding other little things to do.

he came back to pizza one more time. i love him.

he recognizes how lucky he is to have the life he has. he says it’s important to pay attention to give a fuck about things and to give a fuck about things that will help other people. 

watching him talk the whole time he seemed so happy and relaxed. he seems like such a light hearted and fun person and he laughed SO much

that’s the end y’all. thanks for sticking around and reading all my hastily typed notes

[iamtrebleclefstories]

i knew you’d come back to me 

“Jo, look I know I’m probably the last person you wanna see right now and I don’t deserve for you to even hear me out, but all I’m asking for is a few minutes. Please.”

happy belated birthday @only-freakin-sunflowers​! hope you enjoy this fic that i love so very much <3

"No way, I don't believe you!"

"It's true. I was fourteen years old and there were two of them."

"At the same time?" Jo raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

"Yup," Jackson took a swig of his beer and donned a smug grin on his face. "And I knew exactly what I was doing."

"And here I thought you were a soft pillow sex kind of guy. But a threesome for your first time?" Jo huffed a laugh. "I'm not going to lie. I'm impressed.”

"What about you? What was your first time like?" Jackson asked, sporting a carefree smile.

"Well, I was sixteen years old and it was in my car, so it sucked," Jo chuckled. "It was uncomfortable and with some guy who was four years older than me. So you'd think by that point, he'd know what he was doing, but the poor bastard didn't know shit. He did not care that it was my first time at all. As soon as he finished, I kicked him out and drove away."

"That's horrible," Jackson busted out in laughter. "I'm so sorry."

"Oh, the sad thing is that's not even the worst sex I'm had," Jo winced in self-pity. "I've had some pretty horrible sex throughout the years."

"Okay, that's enough about bad sex," Jackson leaned back against the couch. "What's the best sex you've ever had?"

"Alex," Jo responded easily. "Every time with Alex." She stared off into the corner of the loft and let her eyes wander to the drawer where Alex had kept her ring hidden after she'd rejected his proposal the first couple times. It was the same drawer she'd deposited the rings after she'd taken them off. “I’ve had great sex with other people. Hell, I’ve had great sex with you.” Jo paused and allowed her eyes to flit over to the bed that she and her ex-husband used to share. “But there’s just something about sleeping with the one person you love more than anyone. Every time with Alex was just a reminder that he was it for me. And I just wish I could turn back time and feel that again. Feel the love. Feel the closeness and safety. But I can’t. I won’t feel that way ever again.”

Jackson observed Jo silently for a few moments. He knew the few months had been difficult for her in many ways. He knew she wasn’t healed all the way yet, and quite possibly, might never heal completely. But hearing her speak only highlighted just how deeply affected she was by it all. In all honesty, it reminded him that he was also still healing from past wounds.

“I know how you feel. I felt that way with April,” Jackson sighed sadly. “And all I can think is that I really screwed it up there. I was so busy trying to convince myself that I didn’t need her to be happy, that I ended up losing her because I couldn’t make up my mind over what the hell I wanted, what I believed in, who I was… and now that I finally figured it out, she’s married to the same guy she left me for in the first place.”  

“How the hell did we get here?” Jo scrunched her face in confusion. “We’re hot people. Why are we moping around about our exes?”

“Because we both lost the loves of our lives,” Jackson deadpanned, earning a dry chuckle from Jo.

“Hey, you still have a chance though. April is around. She didn’t go anywhere. You see her all the time. And if history is any indicator, you two are a pair of magnets that always find some crazy way back to each other. It’s not too late,” Jo stood up from her spot from the couch. “I need something stronger to drink. You want some vodka?”

“I’m good. Another beer would be nice though,” Jackson looked lost in thought for a moment before speaking. “It is too late, Jo. If I could go back in time and change things, I would’ve gotten my crap together and gotten April back in an instant. But she’s married now.”

“You and I both know that doesn’t mean anything,” Jo spoke quietly. She finished pouring her drink and downed a shot of vodka, clearing her throat. “What’s taking Link so long? He said he was on his way with the pizza half an hour ago.”

“He probably was just leaving the house when he called and said he was on his way,” Jackson reached for the beer Jo held out to him. “Thanks. I remember those days, of being a new parent and all.”

“How’s Harriet by the way? It’s been so long since I’ve seen her, since you know, the pandemic,” Jo sat back down on the couch opposite Jackson.

“She’s doing great,” Jackson’s face pulled up into a grin. “She’s talking so much and getting into all sorts of trouble. She’s a big fan of Taylor Swift’s music, and always dances when she hears Lizzo. I haven’t seen her as much as I’d like to since I’ve been working in the hospital pretty much nonstop, but she’s good.”

“Last time I saw her, she was walking around with a piglet stuffed animal that she refused to let go of,” Jo chuckled.

“Yeah, April got her that,” Jackson grimaced. “We came to the agreement that Harriet would be raised Christian and get to spend two weeks every summer at the Kepner farm since she’ll be attending French preschool and start sitting in on the Fox Foundation board meetings once she turns fifteen. The joys of co-parenting.”

Jo let out a laugh, “Well, I think you’re doing a pretty good job.”

The pair was interrupted by a knock at the door, “That must be Link with the pizza.” Jo stood up and sauntered over towards the door, huffing in annoyance when the knocks grew more insistent. “I’m coming!”

“Jeez, you said you’d be here with the pizza almost an hour ago. What took you so long?” Jo spoke as she unlocked the door and slid it open only to freeze in her tracks. “Alex?”

“Jo.”

Convinced she was hallucinating, Jo slammed the door shut in his face. She stared at the door silently for a few seconds, leading Jackson to come up beside her, startling her as he put his hand on her shoulder. “Jo, who was that?”

“Jo, look I know I’m probably the last person you wanna see right now and I don’t deserve for you to even hear me out, but all I’m asking for is a few minutes. Please,” Alex knocked once again.

Jackson’s eyes grew wide as he realized whose voice was on the other side. He glanced at Jo who looked up at him with what seemed to be a scared expression on her face. Realizing that she wasn’t going to do anything Jackson spoke, “What do you want? Do you want me to get rid of him? Do you want to talk to him? You let me know what you need.”

Jo opened and closed her mouth a couple times, unsure of what to say. In the weeks since Alex had left, she had run every scenario in her mind, praying that there would be a moment where he’d come to his senses and show up at her door. She’d rehearsed what she’d say to him in the event of his return. But now, with only a sliding door separating them, Jo had been rendered speechless.

Shaking her head of the thoughts bombarding her brain, Jo wordlessly looked at Jackson in hopes that he would get the message and open the door she didn’t seem to have the strength to pull open herself. Jackson nodded once and took her place at the door, pulling it open to reveal Alex’s mouth open in surprise.

“Oh,” Alex closed his mouth and squared his jaw, looking down to the ground in an effort to camouflage the pained look that flashed on his face. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

“No man, stay. I was just leaving anyway,” Jackson grabbed his coat from the rack by the door and gently clapped Alex on the back. “It’s good to see you.”

Jo reached out for Jackson and pulled him back inside. Her eyes widened frantically and her voice came out in a panicked whisper-yell, “What are you doing? You can’t leave. I can’t, Jackson.”

“Jo listen to me, yes you can,” Jackson placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. “You know that talk we just had about what we’d do if we got another chance? Well, this is yours. I know he hurt you and put you through hell, and you don’t have to take him back, but I think you owe it to yourself to get closure. You need to heal and you can’t do that if you let him walk out that door without talking to him. You’ll spend the rest of your life wondering what he might’ve said and what you could’ve done differently. Trust me, I know. You can do this.”

Jo closed her eyes and took a deep breath, “You’re right. I can do this.”

They were interrupted by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, “I know, I’m late. I’m sorry it took so long. I was about to leave the house when Scout puked all over my clothes. I had to bathe him and myself. But I’m here now so—“

Link stopped dead in his tracks, pizza in hand and looked at the figure standing in the open doorway, “You son of a bitch. What the hell do you think you’re doing—“

“And that’s our cue to leave,” Jackson held an arm out and began to guide Link back down the steps. “We can eat the pizza in the car.”

“No. No, this isn’t okay. He can’t just waltz back in here and pretend like it’s all okay,” Link yelled angrily. “Do you know the kind of pain you put Jo through? You swore up and down to everyone that you would never hurt her. And now what? You’re trying to walk back into her life after ripping her heart out? Well, over my dead body.”

“Link, that’s enough,” Jo warned. “It’s fine. You can go.”

Link’s unhappy expression did not go unnoticed. He didn’t want to leave her here alone with Alex. He wanted to protect his sister. But it was becoming more obvious that Jo didn’t want him there. Link sighed, “Fine. But I’m not happy about this.”

“Come on man, let’s go,” Jackson motioned for Link to walk in front of him as they disappeared out the front door.

Finally alone, Jo walked back inside the house and downed another shot of vodka. She watched as Alex stood awkwardly outside, “Are you going to stand in the doorway all night or are you going to come inside?”

Alex hesitated before walking inside the house with a guilty look on his face. He didn’t think he’d ever be back there. The moment he’d sent those letters he thought that was it. He’s never set foot into the loft again, he’d never see Jo again, he’d never truly be home again. It was a tough pill to swallow, but he did it for his kids.

The plan was never to stay in Kansas and leave behind the only family he’d ever really known. It wasn’t in his plans to keep the kids a secret from Jo. It wasn’t in his plans to lie to Jo and tell her he was going to Iowa instead of the truth. It wasn’t in his plans to have the twins in the first place. It wasn’t in his plans to have kids with a woman who wasn’t Jo. But yet, here he was, standing near the door feeling like a stranger in his once home because he decided to make a mess out of a situation that could’ve been handled very differently.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d let me in,” Alex treaded lightly.

“Neither was I,” Jo answered honestly.

“So, you and Avery?” Alex’s bad attempt to see if she had moved on or not didn’t go unnoticed.

“Not that it’s any of your business anymore but, no. It’s just sex. Believe it or not, I am not emotionally healed enough for that. I don’t move on from a seven year long relationship like it didn’t mean anything to me,” Jo chewed on her lip. It was taking everything not to look at him. Not to lock eyes with him. Because Jo knew that the moment she spared him more than a glance, she’d be reduced to a puddle of tears. Whether they were sad tears, angry tears, or happy tears, she didn’t know. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Alex took a couple steps closer to where Jo stood behind the kitchen table. He held his hands up in a show of harmlessness, trying not to startle or agitate her. “I—I don’t even know what to say.”

“Why don’t you start with why you’re here,” Jo crossed her arms in front of her. “Because last time I checked, you left me to go frolic around in Kansas with your ex wife and kids. Shouldn’t you be there with them? You know, there’s a pandemic outside. When was the last time you were tested?”

“I was tested two days ago and I drove here so I didn’t have any contact with anyone unless it was to buy food,” Alex replied easily.

“You drove all the way up here?” Jo’s voice inflected in surprise. “Why? You said you have everything you always wanted. Why would you leave that?”

“Because I miss you,” Alex sighed heavily. He looked up at the ceiling in an attempt to keep his composure. “And I know that it’s not fair to say that but I do. I miss you every damn second of the day. I can’t go more than a few minutes without thinking about you and regretting the decisions I made that led us here. The moment I dropped those letters in the mailbox at the post office, I wanted to take them back. I wanted to reach in and pull them out and run all the way back home and be here with you. But it was too late. What was done was done.”

Jo glared at him angrily, “What was done was done? That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard. You could’ve answered my calls. You could’ve talked to me. You could’ve come home. You could’ve not sent me divorce papers in the mail without even giving me a choice in the matter. You could’ve explained the situation and I would’ve dropped everything to be with you. Why? Because we were married, Alex. We got married for better or worse and I never once thought that you’d be the one to break those vows. You had my full and complete trust. Ever since that first kiss you’ve held my heart in your hands. You know how hard that is for me. You know how hard it is for me to trust people. But you didn’t care. You treated my heart like it was collateral and made me feel like all those years—all the love we shared—wasn’t real. Because if you loved me, if you truly loved me the way you said you did, you would have never hurt me like that. That’s not love.”

“I did love you, I swear Jo. None of that was ever a lie. When I said I loved you, I meant it. Every single time. I still love you,” Alex’s eyes practically bore into Jo’s soul. “I love you. And I’m sorry I messed it up, I messed us up. We were great, perfect even. We were happy and in love and we wanted to start a family, but I was an idiot and I screwed it up. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make it up to you for doing that, but I’m here because I love you. I’m doing what I should’ve done the first time around. I came home and I’m talking to you and I’m giving you the choice that I took from you when this all happened months ago.

“Because I realized that I could have the best, sweetest, smartness kids on this farm in the middle of nowhere Kansas and a great job as the Chief of Surgery at a children’s hospital, but none of that will ever matter as long as I don’t have you. Because I’ve been miserable and I tried to act happy for my kids, but now we’re in the middle of a pandemic and I don’t even see my kids anymore. I’m at the hospital every day dreading having to go home to an empty, quiet apartment with generic white walls. I hate it there. Everything single thing about it. I’m a stranger to my own children and in the process of trying to be there for them, I lost the most important person in my life, you. And I don’t expect you to take me back, hell, I probably wouldn’t take me back. But I miss my best friend. I miss your smile and your laugh. I miss the way your nose scrunches up when you get upset. I miss that dog face you’d always make when you tried to get me to agree to something you knew I’d have trouble agreeing to. But it didn’t matter how much I hated the idea of whatever you had planned because the moment I saw that face, I couldn’t say no. I miss the sparkle in your eyes whenever you’d get excited about a really cool case or surgery. I know that I haven’t done anything to deserve your love or forgiveness, but I’m not going down without a fight. Not this time. So, you don’t have to decide anything right now, but I’ll be here, waiting for you to make your choice.”

About halfway through his speech, Jo lost her fight with her tears. Wiping her face quickly, she looked up at Alex with a devastating expression on her face, “I need time.”

“I know,” Alex nodded and brought his hand up to his face to wipe a few of his own tears off. “I’ll be here until you decide. I’m not leaving. Take as long as you need.”

+++

After their conversation, Alex walked out of the loft quietly, not indicating where he would be going for the night. Jo assumed it was Meredith’s. He always went to Meredith’s house when they went through rough times. But with Mer in the hospital because of covid, Jo wasn’t too sure if he’d end up there or not.

Shaking thoughts of Alex out of her head, Jo began getting ready for bed. She had just gotten out of the shower when her phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey. You okay?” Link’s voice filtered through the speaker. “Do you need me to come and kick him out or beat his ass?”

Jo let out the slightest chuckle, “No. Everything is okay. You don’t need to come over.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to take him back. Don’t you remember what he did to you?” Link's disdain and distrust for her once husband was evident in his tone. “You deserve better than that, Jo. You don’t deserve to be anyone’s second choice.”

Second choice. Now that was a concept that she’d struggled with long before she and Alex got married, let alone when they got divorced. Time and time again she felt like the second choice in Alex’s life, and time and time again he’d grovel his way back to her and she’d give him another chance to fix things. He would swear that nothing could ever come between them, until it did. Until it lodged itself in between their peaceful little happy bubble and shattered the edges of it as if it were the most fragile piece of glass. It was a cycle that she was caught in and it was getting very old.

“I don’t know,” she finally answered after some time. “I—I don’t know what I want or need right now other than just some time to figure out what exactly the hell it is I’m feeling. Because I can’t seem to form my thoughts into coherent sentences. But I do know that you threatening to knock him out and telling me that I deserve better isn’t helping.”

“I’m sorry,” Link apologized. “I’m just protective of you. I don’t want to see you get hurt again.”

“I know. And thanks. It means a lot,” Jo paused. “Look, I’m exhausted and I’m going to go to sleep. I have to be at the hospital at five in the morning.”

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Truthfully, Jo did not have to be at work that early. But she also didn’t think she could stand another minute on that call with Link. All she wanted to do was lie down and stare at the ceiling as she tried to make sense of her thoughts and feelings that were bubbling under the surface. Sighing heavily, Jo turned on her side and allowed herself to finally break down. It was too much. Alex returning was too much. She was just starting to fill the void he had left behind. Although she’d never get used to his absence, she’d started slowly but surely crawling out of her pit of despair and had maneuvered into a state of numbness, which wasn’t all that better from the intense depressive state she’d been in a couple months ago.

Eventually, sleep caught up with her and Jo was able to fall into a somewhat restful slumber. When she awoke in the morning, she’d forgotten for a split second that had ever left. She reached beside her to touch him only to find his once side of the bed empty. Standing up, Jo readied herself for the day and was about to walk out the door when Levi walked in.

“Uh… Jo. Did you know that your ex husband is sleeping in his car outside our building?” Levi asked as he pulled off his jacket.

“He’s what?”

“I just got back from the hospital and I was surprised because I saw a car in front. I went to go check it out because it looked like the car was on. Karev is in there, knocked out in the backseat,” Levi’s confused expression mirrored the one on Jo’s face.

“He stayed,” Jo whispered quietly.

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” Jo shook her head. “I’ve got to go to work. But check on him in a few hours and bring him some water or a sandwich.”

“Okay…” Levi looked at her strangely. “Do you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

“Honestly, I don’t really know what’s going on,” Jo let out a breath. “He came back and he said he loves me and apologized. He said he’s not gonna leave without a fight and he’ll wait until I’m ready to talk to him again.”

“Listen, I’m all for forgiveness and starting fresh, but Jo, he hurt you so bad. I care about you and I don’t want to see you back in that state. You still aren’t fully healed,” Levi spoke gently.

“I know,” Jo closed her eyes. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’m going to the hospital. Just, make sure you give him something to eat later. And let him in if he wants to shower or use the bathroom.”

“I will.”

+++

The following days consisted of more of the same. Every morning Jo would wake up to find Alex asleep in his car and every evening, she’d return to see him eating dinner either in or outside his car. She knew he entered the house while she was gone. She could tell by the presence of his toothbrush and toiletries in the bathroom. She could tell by the stray t-shirt hanging out near the corner of the loft.

It was the fourth night when Jo couldn’t stand to sit in the loft alone knowing he was outside anymore. At about seven o’clock, she grabbed her purse and jacket and walked out the door, passing by Alex who was wordlessly working on something on his laptop. He looked up at Jo striding across the parking lot, not taking his eyes off of her until she stood outside her car door. Climbing into her car, Jo drove off and ended up in the first place she could think of.

Jo walked up the steps and knocked on the door, waiting for the person on the other side to answer. After about a minute, the door opened to reveal Jackson.

“Hey. What’s up?” Jackson asked.

“I brought booze,” Jo held up a bottle of tequila.

“That bad, huh? Okay, come on in,” Jackson stepped aside to let her in. He observed her for a moment before speaking again. “Just letting you know, I have Harriet tonight. She’s sleeping in the bedroom.”

“That’s fine. We can be quiet,” Jo leaned forward and captured Jackson’s lips in a kiss. “I need this.”

They didn’t get very far when Jackson realized that something was wrong, “Hold on. What’s going on?”

“Nothing. It’s fine, just keep going,” Jo responded.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. You’re not here right now,” Jackson pulled away. “Your brain is in a million other places.”

“Did you think that maybe I’m here because my brain is in a million other places?” Jo huffed and sunk down onto the couch. “This, what we have here, is good. There are no feelings, no expectations, nothing messy. I just really need to have no feelings right now because I feel like I’m going to explode with the amount of feelings threatening to burst out of me.”

“Oh. So, that’s what this is about,” Jackson nodded his head in understanding.

“What?” Jo furrowed her brows.

“What happened between you two the other night?”

Jackson did not need to elaborate. Jo knew exactly which two people he was referring to. She just hated that they had gotten close enough that he could tell what was wrong with her. Jo hung her head in defeat, “He wants me back and told me that he still loves me.”

“Do you still love him?” Jackson took a seat beside her and waited for her response.

“Yes, Jackson. I’m always going to love him. We talked about this,” Jo huffed in annoyance.

Jackson shook his head, “No, I mean… right now, in this very moment he says he loves you. What do you say?”

“I love him, too. But I hate what he did to me,” Jo confessed quietly. “I love him… so much. So much that sometimes it feels like my heart is going to burst because it can’t contain the amount of love I have for him. I thought I lost the love of my life, Jackson. I grieved him. I grieved my relationship. I came to the conclusion that I would never experience love like that ever again. I treated it as if he’d died. And now he’s just back? He put me through hell just to come back and try to worm his way into my life again? If he doesn’t stay with Izzie and those kids, then what was the point of it all? What was the point of the pain and the tears? All of the hurt I experienced, the destruction of our relationship… it was all for nothing. And I don’t know if I can get past that… But I love him. I love him, Jackson and I just want to be able to love him the way I used to love him. I don’t want to love him from afar.”

Jackson looked at her for a moment, “What are you going to do? Are you going to take him back?”

“I don’t know,” Jo cradled her head in her hands. “I don’t know what I should do. I don’t know what’s right.”

“I don’t think there’s a right answer. And I don’t think you should rely on what other people would do in your situation when making your decision. Screw what everyone else thinks. Do what you think you can handle. Do what you want to do. Alex is giving you a choice, a choice that he took from you the first time around. And your choice can be to let him go, but don’t let everyone else’s opinions rob you from making that choice,” Jackson sat on the edge of the couch and waited for Jo to say something.

“He’s been sleeping in his car for the past five days and it’s killing me,” Jo let out a breath. She stood up and faced Jackson. “Thanks, for everything.”

Understanding the duality of her words, Jackson’s lips curved up into a smile, “You’re welcome.”

Jo had begun making her way out the door when Jackson called out to her.

“Hey, Jo!”

“Yeah?”

“You’re making the right decision.”

Finally feeling as though she was in control of her future, Jo smiled, “I know.”

+++

He wasn’t quite sure at what point he’d fallen asleep, but sometime around eleven o’clock, Alex woke up to the sound of the passenger door opening. He startled out of his sleep to find Jo climbing into the car, hair freshly washed, wearing a large t-shirt and sweatpants, a blanket in hand, and the most nonchalant expression on her face. Furrowing his brows in question, Alex watched as she silently sat down in the seat beside him.

Jo reclined the seat back and turned on her side to face Alex. She stared softly at his confused face and felt herself truly relax. After some moments of just staring at each other silently, Jo reached out her hand across the center console and grabbed Alex’s hand.

Jo watched as he let out a soft sob. Alex brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it lightly, not bothering to wipe the tears that were falling. Feeling her own tears make their way down her face, Jo exhaled and used her free hand to pull the blanket around her a little tighter. Once the tears were gone, Jo and Alex closed their eyes, reveling in the familiar closeness.

And for the first time in months, both of them slept soundly.

[popculturebuffet]

Don Rosa: “The Magnificent Seven (Minus 4) Caballeros!” or City Slickers 3: The Crystal City

Saludos Amigos, the Ride of the Three Caballeros returns! After some time off to take care of other seasonal commissions and to finally get the life and times fo scrooge mcduck back on a steady pace, everyone’s three favorite chappies in snappy serapes are back for another go round.  This time i’ts back to comics one last time as we take a look at “The Magnificent Seven (Minus 4) Caballeros: which was the penultimate story from Duck Maestro Don Rosa, and as a result the final one set in present day, as while the next one would have a wraparound segment, it’s a flashback tiding up the one last bit of Scrooge’s past Rosa hadn’t clicked into place yet, and thus we’ll get to that eventually as part of life and times. And honestly it serves as a fittng and satisfying conclusion to Donald’s story. 

The geneisis of this one is rather simple in comparison to “The Three Caballeros Ride Again!”. Don Rosa REALLY enjoyed writing TTCRA, wanted to have another adventure with Donaldo and his boys, and given the previous story was a huge hit likely had no trouble convincing his publisher. And since he set the first story in Panchito’s home country of mexico, it only made sense to have the next story in Jose’s home country of Brazil. Adding to it Rosa specifically wanted to avoid using the amazon rainforest this go round, as to him pretty much every story involving Brazil focused on the massive and wonderful rainforest. And while a great setting, Rosa knew there was much more to the country and wanted to show it off. And to his credit.. he’s 100% right as i’ve seen dozens upon dozens of stories set in the rainforest but not nearly as many set ANYWHERE ELSE IN BRAZIL. If their lucky we get to see Rio, but that’s about it. So kudos to Rosa for wanting to display more of a beautiful country and show it had more to offer than merely it’s biggest attraction. As for what treasure they’d be after, the lost city of crystal stuck out to him, having been described in a goverment document that was so degraded when it was found there wasn’t much left to go on and searched for by a famous explorer who was the basis for indiana jones whose name I forgot but we’ll run into his name again later. So yeah not as much setup here and what tiny bit is left can be covered when we get to our villian. So with all that out of the way, let’s ride on!

We open with Scrooge firing Donald and throwing his ass out on the street, berating him for screwing up and then telling him to be back early tommorow to make up for his firing. Then Gladstone literally walks all over him becausae he’s a jackass, and Daisy then shrieks at donald for you know, being stuck on the floor, having messed up the shirt she ironed for him without.. actually you know asking for context, HITTING HIM, then telling him to pick her up for dinner at the ritz. 

It’s like this intro was perfectly designed in a lab to piss me off. All three of the characters who on a good day ar excellent but on a bad are outright monsters, at their worst, treating Donald like crap, i.e. the reason to call them monsters, and generally abusing him for flimsy reasons. And again Daisy HIT DONALD. No that’s not right, she shoryukened his ass! She upercutted him! God damn. And her just casually doing that is played for laughs. In a lesser Rosa story this would only get worst and be “oh haw haw”.. instead... to my delighted suprise.. this is all treated seriously. Yeah really. Instead of being treated for laughs like normal, and not being a dark enough work comedically to make it work like say It’s Always Sunny, Donald is seriously depressed, beaten down phsycially and mentlaly and when the boys, who’ve been present for all of this and tried to help him up off the ground, ask why he takes this.. the answer is pretty damn bleak. 

Just.. holy shit that’s dark.. and I applaud Rosa for not only recognizing this isn’t always funny, but for actually tackling it. And I will grant Donald being a butt monkey CAN be funny, especially when it’s caused by his own ego. It’s the basis of his entire career. It’s good stuff. My issue has been more that Rosa sometimes dosen’t get that either some aspects have aged poorly, even by the 90′s, and thus dosen’t adjust them or play them more for drama, sprinkling a bit of that in with the comedy. So to see him do that HERE, to acknowledge in some way his own faults and do something with them.. i’m very proud of him and it warms my heart that he could do something like this that shows he could grow and change, even SECONDS from the end of his career, but with no intention of ending his career at that point or even after finishing his next and last story. It just ended up happening that way and as such this story carries even more weight as for all intensive purposes, this is the final tale of Donald Duck for Don Rosa’s Barksian universe. This is the last big tale before whatever triggers Scrooge’s retirement, the last tale he wrote in the here and now. And while not perfect for some reasons we’ll get to from a character perspective? It’s a pretty good note to go out on. 

Anyways Donald somehow makes this SADDER by mentoing, when Huey, Dewey or Louie tries to make him smile that he hasn’t smiled in some time before sadly loping off to make their dinner before buying daisy’s. 

Yeah... I just.. I need a moment.... Here’s my asistant iwth an important message

Okay i’ve regained my composuer.. and yes I will be shwoing that off at every opportunity. I have generous friends. Now where were we? Ah yes with their uncle in a depression hole, can relate, they figure he needs a nice gift to get him out of it. The boys think he needs friends.. and of course the boys come to mind, though the fact their on the other end of the contient proves a problem.. but Huey, Dewey or Louie has a solution and takes the boys to the Woodchucks because of course they do> Their primary go to for anything is the guide which to be fair contains the entire sum of the world’s knowledge in a guidebook. 

So the boys, with the other two likely filled in on the way, plan becomes clear when they stop by Woodchuck HQ and talk to the guy in charge of the badge department, which ahs a fun acronym because of course it does, this is one of Rosa’s faviorite running gags and mine as well.. I just don’t have it in me stamina wise to type the whole thing out. Point is the boys ask that Donald be used as courier for a special shipment of badge’s to Rio. The authority guy is understandably a bit reluctant to give a non-woodchuck this duty, but the boys remind him that in a previous story, not sure if it’s barks or rosa’s, Donald apparently not only found the last remaning pieces of fort duckberg but saved them from the mill. As a result the Fort, which was the original HQ of the woodchucks until Scrooge threw them out, was apparently rebuilt. So the guy in charge is more than willing to not only give donald the duty, but an open ended plain ticket, i.e a vacation. The Nephews do have to guilt him a bit more to get donald a condsensed pamphlet based on the brazil chapter of the guidebook which at this point seems like overkill. Just.. buy him a guidebook boys. IT’s a bit much to ask that a portion of your heavily guarded and protected text be given to your uncle for a vacation and seems like a tad of a stretch but the gag, including the boys getting badges in guilt and convincing, makes it work. 

So after the boys set off to telegram the rest of the Cabs, we cut to donald arriving in rio, passing christ the redeemer on the way

The Rio Woodchucks greet donald and take the package for him, giving him new orders to go by cable car to the observation deck atop Sugar Loaf Mountain. This is a real mountain in Brazil and frustrated Rosa because he couldn’t find any pictures of what the station looked like in the 1950′s, despite as he put in his notes having eager fans from the region, researchers and other contacts try to find it, settling for having vintage cable cars pulling into modern stations he got from photos from said contacts. If I hadn’t said it before i’ll say it now the man is a BEAST when it comes to getting things acurate, only bending it if it helsp the story and still making sure his drawings are as accurate as possible. It’s one of Rosa’s most adimirable traits. 

Donald took a Donde, some form of streetcar there, hanging on the back and .. uh I have no words for this..

Donald Duck ran into a horse and it farted in his face. Just... why though. This horse naturally is Senior Marteniz, with Panchito currently being thrown out of a cable car for trying to put his horse in there which is fair. What isn’t is people having an issue with his hat. I mean.. people wear hats. I know it’s a bit big for the tight fit of the cable car but still it’s a bit weird to throw a strop about anywhere outside a theater or sports place where he’d be actively obstructing people’s view. And it appears to be the same weirdly crazy asshole.. Imean again the horse thing is resonable but calling it a “crazy hat” I mean yes it’s a big hat.. but ... you you do know mexico exists right? And sombreros? or other cultures at all you weirdly specific douche? 

At the top, after a quick and funny hat swap gag, Panchito reveals the triplets called him here.. as did Jose who assuemd it was  lovely senorita.. who uppercuts him. And it’s STILL more reasonable to uppercut some rando hitting on you, if not by much, than Daisy’s Domestic Abuse. Anyways the three put things together and Donald realizes via flashback the boys hoped his smile would return and said he’d have help. 

Donald, being utterly beaten down by life, apologizes.. but it turns out the boys needed this as much as he did. Jose’s night club career is flopping hard, with his agent unable to get him bookings and Panchito has barely scraped any money together for his ranch dream from last time. It’s a nice touch: That the boys , while having more exciting careers have just as much strife as Donald does and as much problem. It helps make them feel as real as donald, as characters with their own lives and adventures outside of him and their own wants and needs and it really helps the story come alive. Jose however has some suggestions to escape their blues. 

But Panchito suggests instead they go for some adventure and go diamond hunting in the plains of brazil, which the two agree to.. and Donald’s a big gung hoe about carving his way through human flesh.. just jesus man.. get a therapist. Your Ducktales counterpart did and he seems mildly well adjusted. So the adventure is on.. and they all toss their hats.. off a mountain. First thing on the provisoins list hats.  Before we head on I just wanted to point out even though most of my audience here is likely unaware the movie exists that this Comic honestly reminds me of the 1991 comedy City Slickers starring Billy Crystal, Daniel Stern and Bruno Kirby. If your struggling on the name Daniel Stern, think Marv from Home Alone. 

No.. the RIGHT marv. I may not be a huge fan of Home Alone but we respect Daniel sterns in this house. And yes if you didn’t know French Stewart played Marv in one of the sequels now you do. And i’m sorry you know that. 

There we go. Right Marv and Wrong Dad from Christmas story. Back on point City Slickers is a terrific comedy I finally saw a few weeks back about three friends all facing mid life crisises, with Billy Crystal being unsatisfied with his career and undsure WHY he does, Daniel Sterns having cheated on his shrewish wife with one of his employees whose also now pregnant, and Bruno Kirby being a ladies man whose faced with the prosepct of settling down, go for a weeks vacation to a cattle drive, as Brunos character tends to set up these trips but this time they actually need it. They encounter cows, assholes and a cowpoke named Curly. It’s pretty good. 

But yeah they both feel kinda similar, if with far less drama and crumbling marraiges on the cabs end because you know, this is for children. I’m pretty sure it’s just a concidence but given Rosa’s love of film, even if it’s more 30′s and 40′s films, and how the City Slickers seems right up his alley, I wouldn’t he suprised if he saw it and simply took some slight inspiration from it. Either way the similarity makes me giggle a bit. Again the plots aren’t all the same but the basic setup is about the same, complete with the main character’s family making sure he goes. It’s a bit of a stretch but I thought it was pointing out and while this review is comissioned, how I go about it isn’t so if I want to take a few paragraphs to compare this to an excellent comedy you should defintely see with two underated actors, maybe three i know nothing of bruno kirby other than the man had horse allergies and thus had to take heavy medication every day so good on him, and a lot of fun. 

So our premise and pastiche firmly in place, our heroes fly out to the frontier to adventure and Donald even thought ahead on them needing two more mounts and bought them from the local farmer for 100 bucks: It turns out their a llama, who jose takes and an old ox which donald reluctantly takes and wonders how to steer.. which I just got the double pun. Nice touch.

So our heroes head on with Donald expressing suprise they aren’t in the jungle like the movies, Jose correcting him, you get the bit he’s going for. But as they travel Donald not only breaks out the pamphlet but also , once jose mentions finding el dorado, casually mentions he and Scrooge already found it in columbia, and when Jose incrediously mentions that maybe he also already found the lost mines of the incas.. turns out yeah they did that too. Dont’ know if it was a barks or rosa story for either, since I didn’t check that part of Rosa’s notes, but it brings the scene into greatness as the boys not only belivie donald and figure he’s not pulling their legs.. but marvel at his life. And it’s here Donald smiles a bit.. he’s already got his smile back realizing that as miserable as his life can be.. he’s still seen and done things no man, even his globetrotting pals, has sever done before or sense. Found long lost places, solved mysteries and rewrote history.. sometimes literally sometimes in the “found things that changed historical knowledge” sense. Point is.. he realizes he has more to his life than he thought and maybe it isn’t so miserable after all. 

Donald also mentions the local waters are filled with stuff and the other Cabs mounts quickly climb on his continuting the gag of the Cabs assuming donald’s some big expert by accident. For me personally it varies in how funny it is, sometimes it’s grating othertimes it’s genuinelly pretty good, your mileage will vary. We then get a page and a half of slapstick with various animals and this gag repeated and it’s eh. Not bad, and there’s a REALLY great visual bit where donald gets squeezed by an anaconda and not only is he comically and tightly squeezeled, but it takes a few panels for it to wear off. Other than that not bad stuff but nothing especially new or really that funny. 

Our heroes soon find a pit trap.. and a capybara in said pit trap.. which I also give myself credit for recognizing on sight. Who dosen’t like a good capybara? Their basically a large brazillian rodent if you were curious. Donald asks what can they do and hte boys take it as a secret test of character, and not just donald being kind of lost and decide to help free trapped animals instead of treasure hunt which Donald, much like his entire life, just reacts to with “what what are we doing now?”. But they manage to free the greatful Capybara and we get this inspired bit. 

Naturally the sheer confusion of seeing this as well as being confronted with the relaly bizzare nature of his world, i.e. having both a rodent whose an old friend and one that’s clearly just a regular animal causes Donald to fall into the hole. He’s soon found by the natives.. and here we get one of the worst aspects of this story and one I honestly didn’t expect to encounter given Rosa’s research: Calling these indgeinous people’s.. “indians”. Yes really. 

We were in 2004 by this point, and even in the cultural cesspool of the early 2000′s, a time where micheal jacksons actions towards children were used for reams of jokes and where R.Kelly got off for the same just because “he makes the good musics”. What i’m saying is even in this time in history, we knew better than to use the term indian and I remember distinctily the term native american being in my text books even at this point as a kid. So Rosa, a world traveled knowledgable adult.. has no excuse for this, not even “It was the 50′s when this was set and they’d used this” as while he had Scrooge being mildly racist in “The Empire Builder from Callisota”, he didn’t you know, have scrooge use the fucking n word or other slurs during the story because you know that’s racist and he knows it’s racist. I’m coming down so hard on him because I expect BETTER. I can, even if it bothers me and I will give out about it, KINDA ignore the daisy stuff because domestic violence against men wasn’t as wellk nown, so while it dosen’t play well and I won’t pretend to enjoy it I can at least understand why rosa thought this was funny when it isn’t> This? The man clearly should know better, should know to use correct terms, and is usually better about this, but just isn’t here and for one of his last stories it’s REALLY depressing to see a man I have a ton of respect for fail this badly. It’s just a small element of hte story but it really sticks out badly and says bad things about an otherwise good man. Even a good man can really fuck up and Don.. honestly really fucked up even when, normally his portryal of indigneous people’s is really good.. and is for the rest of the story. This is just a really bad if really easy to miss bit I feel he deserves some flak over it. He knew better. This story proves he knows better in other ways and knows indgenous people deserve resepect. He just dosen’t show it in his laungauge and it’s disheartaning. 

Anyways, the Natives drop donald off with their cheif.. who turns out to not only speak perfect english, but has a rather nice modern setup and clothes. He’s the son of the former cheif whose dad, using a secret crystal city with a rich mine, paid for his son to go get an education in the US and hopefully bring back knowledge for his people. Instead all he learned was to be a greedy selfish asshat who calls his own people “savages”. This is what i’m talking about: While the indian thing is bad and Rosa should feel bad.. the rest of the story does treat these tribal peoples with genuine grace and care, as our main villian is shown as one partly because rather than respect his culture and simply use thenew knowledge of the outside world to help his people by educating them, bringing back new techniques and medcidnes while mixing it with thier old culture, the bastard prince simply wrote them off as savages and used his new learnings to rule them and get them into trapping, a buisness i’ts later made clear at the end of hte story they don’t like and only followed him because he’s their chief. And it dosen’t even come off as them following him as chief because their stupid, mainly just because of tradition and knowing they can’t escape him and he’d just find htem and find some way to cowtow them. The tribe here are innocent victimes forced into a life they don’t want by an asshole who became a colonizer instead of a hero and leader to his people and simply wants to sell them out as soon as possible to fiance a fancy and comfy life for himself.  The bad guy here is recycled from Rosa’s pre scrooge work, and works well here and honestly.. is a good villian and a good antagonist, something Rosa struggled with sometimes when not just using what barks made. He’s a chillingly realistic villian: someone who would step on where he came from instead of helping it and again treats these people as simple victims forced to be minons by circumstance and as the end of the story shows, and we’ll get to that, not nearly as stupid or “savage” as this cruel bastard thinks. And naturally being a cruel bastard, Chief, since his name isn’t given, plans to ransom donald as he naturally has no hangups about selling people AND rare animals. Thankfully Donald’s only a prisoner for a bit as Donald’s ox makes a back door and with the help of their mounts the boys free all the trapped animals and escape.. with Senior Martinez accidently taking the Chief’s necklace. Turns out that’s the sigal that signals his right to rule, so he figures if the tribe finds out it’s missing they’ll rightfully dump his ass and tells them to give chase, which the cabs find out about via a wild parrot. It’s better not to ask. 

So our heroes head into the wilderness to loose them and find a rocky slope, making their way up to some more plains. They now have both a high vantage, and a place to set up camp so do so. They also found out Martinez took the necklace, and now know why the chief is after them, but Panchito decides to keep it for now till they can figure out what to do with it. SO over the camp fire Donald decides that if they can find this lost mine that the Cheif’s dad used to go to,  they won’t need to look for diamonds the hard way and Jose’s skepticism is rebuffed by the fact that Donald’s found plenty of lost cities with scrooge.  So donald brings up the legend of the crystal city, with the guy who found it being colonel percy fawceet, and brings up more adventures you get the bit by now. Point is he mentions a crystal arch lighting up at night to ward off intruders.. and sure enough our heroes happen to be right by it, complete with a crystal road that simply had been covered by shale over the years. Donald decides to get some rest and head out in the morning, with a valid explination as to why not to worry about hteir perusers till then: It’s so dark that even if they left a trail, they can’t follow.. which the evil cheif agrees to though he finds the trail they dug up, pointing as an arrow and now realizing his dad’s treasure was real, plans to naturally exploit the hell out of it.  So the next morning, bright and early, our heroes have built a raft, and are greatful they looked in first as the waters are stalked with dangerous predatory creatures. How htey haven’t all killed each other, I do not no, but it looks cool so i’ll shut up now. So our heroes leave their mounts behind and head in up the stream via the raft and find the massvie and awe inspiring lost city.. as for why it hasnt’ been found they soon figure out why: THe stream in is dangerous, and jose figures it was delebratly packed with dangerous animals, and thus few would think to go in there, and the only ohter way up is scaling the cliffs it’s build into, but as the cities built into the sides of said cliffs, no one can see it from a distance. It’s a birlliant way to justify just WHY something remained lost and somthing barks is tremendous at. Our heroes soon find though that the canal go deeper and approaches a water fall.. and thus jump off loosing their only way back and thus heading in deeper to see if they can find another way out. Meanwhile the Cheif has found the swamp and recongizes his dad mentoning it and being a greedy jackass, and suddenly realizing that maybe his people won’t want to loot the city their swarn to protect, tells them to guard the Cabs mounts while he goes on ahead. 

Our heroes journey deeper into the unknown and after coming across pick axes mine carts and the like find the mines of fear.. lit with crystals and with wall to wall gems. So they’ve sucessful founds the lost minds of ophir, set up by one of king solomon’s realtiives. The actual King Solomons Mines had been found in a barks story, naturally and is also likely the basis for the african mines level in the ducktales game. 

Donald being donald.. ends up sitting on a giant anaconda who swallows him whole as he dosen’t realize just how big the thing is when his pals mention it to him, and only escapes through Dumb Luck, as is the duck family way, lighting a match and causing the Anadonda to spit him out and run... unfortunately not only does Panchtio loudley announce he dosen’t have his pistols, The Chief shows up with a gun. Naturally he intends to plunder, because jackass you see, and intends to leave the cabs stranded, with the anaconda picking them off one by one when they inevitibly have to sleep while he’ll come back with inflatable rafts and boats to loot the rest. The cabs bemoan the fact that their fucked.. and then this happens. 

So with that Donald FINALLY snaps, tired of taking the world’s shit and determined not to be the looser everyone around him but his boys clearly think he is. Seriously Donald.. dump. her. ass. It’d also tell you to dump gladstone in a shallow ditch but given your love for hacking through human flesh and his luck I don’t want you to impale yourself. So thus.. Donald stops getting polite and starts getting badass.. shouting THAT’S THE LAST STRAW BEFORE.. .. welll...

Bad. Ass. Also who knew Donald was part Kree? Wait .. how though? Questions for later. So as Donald gives the asshole his RICHELY deserved asshole a beat down, the anaconda pops up and grabs the boat.. with Donald STILL fighting the Chief the whole time. Holy shit. If this is your last time writing a character in a lead role what a note to go out on holy jesus. The cabs however show their CLOSE to as badass with Panchito roping the anconda and Jose attacking it once it curls around.. and unlike last time where his umbrella was quickly disarmed, here the Anaconda eats the tip.. only for Jose to expand it and on Panchito’s command, hook the damn thing. I didn’t relaize till writing this up just HOW badass this story’s climax is.. just holy shit this is awesome incarnate. 

Donald ends up loosing the fight eventually as asshole whomps him on the head with the gems.. and sends donald flying, destroying the gate regulating the water thanks to freeing the anaconda. As a result asshole escapes.. for about five seconds till he drops over the falls, presumibly to his MUCH deserved death and even if he surivives, likely wont’ for long without anything to defend himself. Goodbye asshole, you were a good villian but you’ll be better tarantula chow. 

Our heroes are still stranded.. but Panchito notices the Anadconda escaping and well... he decides to equal donald in badassery. Again..words do not do this justice. 

Our heroes disembark, and find that the tribe has been held at bay by the noble steeds, and as I mentioned earlier, and why despite the frequent use of .. that word i’ve said enough already, this story isn’t too bad. The tribe, once free.. are perfectly intellegent and nice, only in the game because of tradition that asshole abused. Their going to head deeper into the valley on the offchance asshole makes it back so he can’t find them. So the tribe is free and seeing the emblem as the symbol of their opressor and not wanting it, they can likely make a new necklace honestly just without the gems, Panchito gets to keep it. So our heroes won, the adventure is over and our heroes head back to rio

In our final scene we get our wrap up with our heroes back in Rio to enjoy what’s left of their vacation.. which given the scope of events only two days of it have passed so far, so it’s nicely implied they have a day or two before Donald has to go back where he can just.. enjoy himself. Have an actual vacation now his soul is whole again. Our heroes went to the authorities, and it turns out the Chief was one of the most infamous trappers in Brazil, and is now again either dead or in no way shape or form easily able to come back into the country.. and when he does, he’ll now have every officer in the country on his ass.So in short he’s pretty fucked and i’m pretty happy about that.  Naturally our heroes dont’ get to keep the mines, because well... it belongs ina museum.. or to become a museum and cultural landmark and the boys know and respect that. But Jose and Panchito both still got something out of the deal: for starters they have their confidence back, as seeing tthey could keep up with donald after realizing what a legend their friend is restored their own weary souls. Meanwhile, Jose’s newfound fame as the man who found a new brazilian cultural touchstone means his agent was able to get him booked up for a year, while Panchito , after consulting with the good senior martenez, decided ot keep the broach, and use it to get their ranch. And Donald? What did he find?

Donald found his smile again. He’s found himself again. After letting life beat him to near death, to just a souless shell. he’s found the real Donald. He’s realized that despite Scrooge’s finaical abuses he lives a rich full life. It’s part of why I compared the story to city slickers. While Donald’s life is far worse off than Billys, like him he finds himself again after the rousing adventure. And who knows what his future holds? Given Scrooge’s grave picture, yes Rosa drew that, he probably does marry daisy and work for the old bat.. but maybe now he can fight back, refuse to let htem walk all over him and actually find a healthy relationship with daisy and with his uncle before his uncle finally retires to Goldie’s loving arms. I could be wrong, it could be same as it ever was just he gets angry again.. but I like to think of something better for our boy. A better life and one more fufilled and more happy and one where he finally finds his pot of gold. He may not of found it yet but well.. there’s always another rainbow and he realizes that now just as his uncle did years ago. Donald is finally whole again to find his hapniess and a better life. Maybe with daisy, maybe with scrooge, maybe without them. Probably without Gladstone because he needs to cut that tumor out of his life, but still, he’s found himself and sometimes that’s all you need to find your purpose. So with that warm thought in my head our heroes play us out one last time. Well not for the restrospective obviously but still. 

Final Thoughts; While I do prefer the previous story, on going through this again for the review, I did find this story utterly charming and a great way to send off our boys and Donald for Rosa’s work. While again that one word is very unfortunate and Rosa should’ve known better, otherwise the story is pretty imaculate, using history to build a thrilling story with tons of character and a tremendous arc for Donald. And as I said the villian is excellent and overally the story is pretty great. Maybe held back a bit by the racisim, but the rest of the story is so joyous, badass and well crafted, it’s easy enough to override the less savory aspects. Dosen’t mean they didn’t need to be noted it just means this story is magificent and as usual for Rosa’s work I recommend it. 

Next time on the Ride of the Three Cablleros: We go to Disney Juinor for Mickey’s Perfecto Day! ..... whelp at least it’s a short one. 

And if you’d like to comission your own review, their just five bucks, jsut direct message me, tell me what you’d like, and I will send you the link on my paypal and get to it asap. Thank you so much for reading and have a happy holiday. 

[laceymorganwrites]

Proud of you

Word Count: 1,632

Pairing: Oikawa x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing

A/N: Oikawa ponders About how he deserves you and what went wrong in his past relationships when you decide to Show him how amazing he is

Oikawa didn´t want to get into a relationship after being dumped by his ex. He hated to admit it, but it depressed him more than he liked. What was it even worth?

Yeah, he´d see a cute girl, work his magic and get her. But what for? For him opening up, sharing his secrets and fears, for him allowing intimacy and for her not to give a shit. It was always this way.

And they all said they were such big fans of him, what a great player he was. And yet volleyball was always the reason they broke up with him. Because they couldn´t grasp the great amount of his life it made out. Maybe it would come as a shock to some people that Oikawa really did not like being in a relationship. He always put in so much effort and it was all for nothing, he went out of his way to organize romantic dates only to listen to his girlfriend at the time complain to him about how he played too much volleyball. He was so sick of it and so he decided not to waste a thought on girls ever again.

But you know what they say, love hits you when you least expect it.

You were with him for about half a year now, which to him was impressive. How come you didn´t run yet? He was barely there to spend time with you, sometimes he caught himself deliberately spending more time on training so that he had to postpone one of your dates. It wasn´t because he was sadistic, he really did love you, but something inside of him was still awaiting the rejection.

Something inside of him was waiting to be hurt yet again, because there was no way in hell someone as perfect as you would stay with him.

You were currently sitting on his couch together, watching some movie you didn´t pay attention to. He seemed off lately, like something was wrong and you spent your days trying to figure out just what it was. It wasn´t like Oikawa to be so much in his head, sure there were always phases, but they never lasted so long. You were really worried about him, but you didn´t want to annoy him. After all you blamed yourself for him distancing himself from you, you didn´t know any better, you thought he didn´t like you anymore and you couldn´t blame him. After all he was busy with volleyball, you were just distracting him from that. Maybe it would be better for him if he never was with you.

But you forcefully pushed those thoughts to the side, if you were the problem you´d simply better yourself and try to be the best girlfriend in the world because it was what he deserved. He was too sweet and thoughtful to be so down.

“Tooru?” you quietly asked, watching him shift his gaze to you, a soft smile on his face.

“Yes, my love?” he responded, pulling you closer to him.

“Can I come to your next game?” you asked, hoping he wouldn´t shut you out of this part of his life.

You were always afraid to ask this question since you didn´t want to control every single aspect of his life, you didn´t want to make him feel bad. You always thought that he would think you being at one of his games would be like you scolding him.

“Hm...I don´t know, (Y/N), I don´t want you to be bored” he thought out loud, sighing heavily. Every time he took some of his former girlfriends to games, no matter whether they claimed to be his fan or not, they´d always be bored and leave halfway through. And those who stayed just complained to him afterwards about not spending enough time with them.

Oikawa just wanted to have someone to celebrate with that wasn´t his team, as stupid and simple as that sounded.

“I could never get bored of watching you” you smiled at him, watching his cheeks flush.

He chuckled, kissing your forehead slightly, only with you did his heart flutter like it did the first day he saw you, you made him feel so loved and cared for and all he wanted to do was to give that back to you three times more, but he felt that if he did that he´d scare you away. He knew he was too much.

“You flatter me too much… listen, you can come if you want to, but don´t expect too much, okay?” he told you, maybe it wouldn´t be so bad if he told you that from the beginning.

But he couldn´t help it but get more nervous the closer the game got.

He didn´t want to see your bored face, it would only get him down. And neither did he want to see you leave in the middle of it.

However he didn´t have time to worry about this right now, he was leaving early to meet up with his team and train before the game started.

You got up only a little bit after he left and instantly started preparing yourself for the game.

After getting dressed you threw his jacket on. He gave it to you on your first date when you were cold, the thought always brought a smile to your face, Oikawa maybe seemed like the biggest asshole on the outside but on the inside he was a softie who always gave you his jackets at every opportunity he had.

Before leaving and checking your bag for everything you needed you made sure to pack the milk bread you made for Tooru. You wanted to surprise him with it after the game and had to hide it away from him before he could see it.

Luckily you caught the train you had to take to get there in time, but it was more cramped than you bargained for. You didnt´t know the way so you just followed the crowd, fortunately the volleyball fans and spectators were very distinctive. Somehow you felt more excited now, all of this was so special to you and people´s good moods and the whole great atmosphere just caught onto you.

You had to push some people away to get to the first row, but it was worth it, you wanted to see your boyfriend after all.

And when you saw him step on the court you felt like you were cheering the loudest and the game hasn´t even started yet, it was only the warm up.

When Oikawa spotted you, his heart did a little leap, he couldn´t contain his big smile as he saw you in his jacket. Somehow they always looked better on you than on him. You were looking so happy, it made him happy too. Maybe all his worries were just bullshit.

You blew him a kiss as you saw that he noticed you too and he caught it, blowing one right back.

You could see his teammates groaning at that, making you giggle. So what if you were the cheesy romantic couple? How could you play down your feelings when Oikawa Tooru was your boyfriend? It wasn´t possible.

And Oikawa, well, he was always a drama queen.

When the game officially started you felt yourself get more tense and your eyes were glued on the field, okay they were glued on your boyfriend but who was counting?

You tried your hardest to keep up the cheering with the fangirls, it was nice knowing you weren´t the only one who cared about him as a player, it was nice to see that other people supported him too.

During the game you realized how much you loved watching him play, how much you came to adore the sport, every time they scored you could feel a rush of excitement go through you, it was amazing. And the whole crowd felt the same which simply took your breath away.

The game was over too soon for your taste, you wanted to watch longer, wanted to see more, wanted to cheer more even though your throat must be dry by now.

You rushed down the stairs to be the first to catch your boyfriend. Of course you waited until they were done stretching not to disturb them.

“Tooru! That was amazing! Congratulations on winning” you smiled at him.

“Honestly I didn´t think you´d make it through to the end” Oikawa said, teasing you.

“Are you kidding me? I loved it! I want to watch more games” you let him know, making his eyes light up.

“Oh, before I forget this, I made something for you and I have a feeling you´ll like it” you grinned cheekily as you held up the milk bread proudly.

Tooru instantly picked you up, hugging you and spun you around like a child making you giggle.

“(Y/N), you´re the best! What did I do to deserve you?” he whined, you just laughed and hooked your arms around his neck, kissing him.

“Well, you´re busy with volleyball and you still make time for me, that´s just amazing and I don´t tell you enough how much that means to me, how much you mean to me… and because you´re so good to me and make me feel so special, I wanna make three times the effort for you! I want to support you in everything you do and if that means just coming to your games and cheering for you, well, nothing easier than that” you told him, making his eyes water a bit.

“(Y/N), what the fuck? You´re actually gonna make me cry….I love you so much” he sobbed, earning a mocking laugh from Iwaizumi who he then shot a pouty look.

“Go ahead then, princess” you laughed, holding his hand.

[pucking-insane]

Nothin’ Like You - Cale Makar

Player: Cale Makar Word Count: 1544 Warnings: Vegetables

Mmm I remember when I first met you Sipping coffee in a corner booth You were twirling your hair And I just had to stare For a minute or two I was laughing at your stack of books Then you shot me that smile Hey beautiful girl, in your own little world And me in it

In a way, you could call Barnes and Noble your home. You loved to read. You read practically anything, from mystery to sci-fi, from fantasy to romance, non-fiction to adventure. 

Today, you were on the hunt for a book for your psych class. You were talking about mindsets in class and you were interested in the topic so you came to find the book your professor recommended.

“Dang.” 

When you located the book on the shelf, it was in the worst possible location. The top shelf. It was just out of your reach and of course there were no step stools around to help you get your book.

“Need a little help?” 

You turned around to see a young guy, no older than 25. He had blonde hair and rosy cheeks. He stood tall, maybe 6 feet.

“Yes please.” A blush creeped onto your face.

“Which one?” He asked you as he looked at the shelf.

“The one with the purple spine, paperback.”

He pulled the book off the shelf with ease, inspected the cover and handed it to you.

“I really enjoyed this one. I’m Cale, by the way.”

“Well, Cale, you into psychology?”

“With my job I kind of needed to know about the different kinds of mindsets. And you’re into psychology?”

“I’m studying at DU to become a child psychologist. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“You wanna maybe grab a cup of coffee sometime?”

You were taken aback by Cale’s question. Sure he was attractive. And he had this sort of mystery about him. Something that made you want to know more about him.

“I’ll go pay for this and we can grab something from the café?”

“Sounds wonderful.” He gave a smile, stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and walked towards the café.

You got all of my attention And you ain't even trying Yeah, you're my kind of different And I never seen nothin'

“So, Cale,” you said as you both sat down at a table in the cafe. “What do you do for a living?”

He sighed heavily. 

“Don’t laugh.” A blush spread across his already rosy cheeks.

“Why would I laugh?”

“I play professional hockey.” He bit his lower lip, awaiting your response.

“Oh my god.” You covered your face with your hands.

“What?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!” You whisper-shouted. “You’re Cale Makar!”

“Hockey fan, eh?” Cale smiled.

“Huge.” It was now your turn to blush. “I grew up in Minnesota so I spent my life on the ice. And I actually played for my high school, leading them to a state championship as a captain senior year.”

“Oh wow.” Cale took a sip of his coffee. “So you don’t play anymore?”

“No. I wasn’t good enough to commit, but I still love the sport. The Avs are my favorite team actually.” A blush spread across your face.

“You should come to a game sometime.” Cale smiled.

“I would love to.” You returned the smile.

Nothin' like you Shades on spinning in a summer rain Dancing in the rain no music Just the right kind of crazy, baby Something about you Rocking that rock 'n roll t-shirt We're at a party dressed up But you just doing your thing Ain't nobody ever seen nothin' like you

Over the next few weeks, you and Cale began to hang out more and more. He took you all over Denver, trying new restaurants, catching movies, or checking out the local museums. You also took Cale to a Broncos game, where you both donned the blue and orange of the football team. 

You had come to have sort of a crush on Cale. His rosy cheeks and killer smile were your downfall. He wasn’t like the hockey players you had known in high school. He was an intellectual. The two of you could have discussions about psychology and how the brain works. Cale would also help you study for your exams, quizzing you on terms and asking you study questions. How hot is a smart guy?

Your friends at school chirped you for the amount of time you spent with Cale.

“Y/N, your ‘I can’t, I have to study’ excuse has turned into ‘I can’t, Cale and I made plans.’” They would tell you. You would just blush and deny it.

One October afternoon, you were relaxing on Cale’s couch. He had just gotten home from morning skate when he invited you over. His hair was still wet and he was wearing a fresh set of sweats and a t-shirt. You were both reading books as you sat in silence. Your head was resting in Cale’s lap, glasses perched on your nose. You held your latest psych book find above your head, brows furrowed in concentration. Cale was reading a book you had recommended to him, and he found his fingers tangling in your hair as he played with it.

To be honest, Cale also had a huge crush on you. His teammates would chirp him for it, but he didn’t care. He wanted to take his time with you, make sure you knew that he cared (of course you did know that he cared about you). 

“Hey, Y/N?” Cale asked, breaking the silence.

“Hm?”

“Tonight’s the home opener, and it would mean the world to me if you came.” Cale said softly, a blush spreading to his cheeks.

“I would love to.” You looked up at Cale with a smile.

When you're wearing them worn out jeans Purple untied shoe strings You're a light in the dark And you're stealing my heart like a gypsy

That night, you found yourself at the will-call ticket office to pick up the ticket Cale had left for you.

“I’m here to pick up a ticket for Y/N.” You said when you got to the window.

“Alright.” You were given your ticket. “I was told to also give you this.”

“Thank you!”

It was an Avalanche jersey. You ran your fingers over the material. Unfolding the jersey, you realized it was Cale’s jersey. He had pinned a note to the material.

Thought you might want a jersey for tonight. I can’t wait to see you after the game. Cale PS come to the glass for warmups

You entered the lower bowl to go to the glass for warmups. Players were hitting the ice with introductions. Soon, they were whizzing around the ice. As soon as Cale caught your eye, he started to wave. He skated over to you.

“I like your jersey.” He mouthed to you with a blush.

“Thanks.” You smiled. “Someone very special gave it to me.”

He blushed again and sent a puck your way.

After warmups, you found your seat, which to your surprise was in one of the boxes. 

“You must be Y/N!” A blonde woman said as you entered the box. “Cale’s girl! I’m Mel by the way.”

You shook Mel’s hand and she introduced you to the other women and families. 

“Landeskog, 92, is my husband. He’s said that Cale never shuts up about you.” Mel explained.

“Oh, um,” You blushed. “Cale and I aren’t together.”

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Mel apologized. “He does like you though.”

“You think?”

“Oh I know. Gabe says he just blushes every time you’re mentioned by a teammate.”

You watched the game intently, eyes always on the lookout for number eight. You cheered so loudly when Mikko scored off of Cale’s assist. Soon enough the game was over and you were going with all the other WAGs down to the dressing room.

“Y/N!” Cale smiled as he saw you when he came out of the dressing room.

“Great game!” You smiled as you hugged him.

“Thank you! You look great in my jersey by the way.” He whispered in your ear.

“Oh really?”

“Of course.” He pulled away from the hug and looked into your eyes. “And I wanted you to be wearing it when I asked you this question.” He took a deep breath. “Will you, Y/F/N Y/L/N, be my girlfriend?”

“I would love to.”

I love the way that you kiss me In front of everybody So baby come and kiss me They ain't ever seen nothin' Nothin like you...

Cale leaned down to kiss you. It was cautious and gentle. Your lips fit together with Cale’s perfectly and they moved in sync. 

The guys all whistled when they saw what was happening between you and your new boyfriend.

“GET SOME CALE!”

“ATTA BOY!”

The ladies, of course, telling their significant others to shut up and let you have your moment, were also happy for the two of you.

“I’ll tell you what.” Cale said as he pulled away from the kiss.

“What?”

“I have never met anyone like you.” He placed one last kiss on your lips before taking your hand and leading you to his car.

[ilovemybirdy]

When Heartbeats Collide Chapter 1

Kairi, a budding pop star is out of luck when her music producer suddenly has to take a leave of absence. But an up and coming producer by the name of Sora could be just what she needs to finish her album (and spice up her life).

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1: A New Partnership

“Click, tap tap, click.” the sounds of my laptop echoed in the small studio room. Often times, I liked to coop up in here whenever inspiration struck; and last night I had been fortunate enough to strike a gold mine of it. I had been re-watching sleeping beauty for the millionth time and upon this particular re-watch the movie had made me think about the implications of love at first sight. Or I guess, in her case love at first sleep. I thought that it might be an interesting metaphor to talk about love from a dream like state of mind or perspective. I wanted to emulate an airy sound and make the listener feel like they were up in the clouds listening to angels.

I had finished the first verse, the chorus, and had settled on doing the song in Bflat minor. As I hummed potential melodies to myself, a sudden knock interrupted my thoughts.

“Come in!” I called. The door clicked open and my assistant Selphie entered.

“Hey Kairi! How’s the song writing going today?” she asked. She gently smiled at me and walked over.

“Well… I’m having trouble thinking of a bridge and a second verse, but other than that I’m making good progress.”

“I’m glad to hear it!” she exclaimed. “I know you’ve been having writer’s block lately, so it’s great you finally un-stuck yourself. Unfortunately, you’ll have to finish working on this later; your meeting starts in 10.” She checked her watch and gave me an apologetic look. I glanced at the time on my phone: 11:50PM. Right on the dot, as Selphie always was.  

“Oh fun,” I groaned. “My favorite part of the month.”

“That’s why I brought you your favorite: iced caramel coffee with a shot of espresso and extra creamer!” I had been so absorbed in my work that I hadn’t yet noticed the coffee in her hand. “I also got you one of those overpriced snack boxes at Papoubucks because I know you forget to eat when you go into these creative frenzies. Seriously! You’ve been in here for hours.” The time had really flown by; we had gotten here around 8 and it was already noon now.

“Thanks Selph. I swear, I don’t know what I’d do without you sometimes.”

“Probably starve to death and go into cardiac arrest from caffeine withdrawal.”

We erupted into a fit of giggles at the snide remark. As I took a much, much needed sip of coffee (my insomnia had been particularly bad lately) Selphie helped me pack up my belongings. On the walk to the conference room I began explaining my new song to her.

“Have you decided on a name yet?” she asked.

“Some contenders I have are dreamy, cloud, and maybe rem? You know, the stage of sleep you have dreams in. Or at least that’s what web MD said.”

“I never like looking up medical problems on there, it just always tells me that I have cancer and that I’m going to die or that I’m pregnant,” she chortled. “Out of those names though I think I like rem the best.”

“Selphie, you’re supposed to take the advice from websites like that with a grain of salt.” I giggled, before continuing. “But yeah, I think I’ll go with rem; it has more meaning behind it than the other names.”

“Look sometimes I get curious and can’t resist looking my symptoms up! Anyway, it sounds like you’re making a really sweet love song! It’s a pretty interesting concept too. I’m sure I’ll love it when you’re done with it.”

Our conversation came to a halt as we arrived at the conference room. We took our seats in the black leather chairs, and unpacked our belongings as members of my team arrived. Selphie readied a pen and notebook to record important points from the meeting. Glancing up, I saw my manager Aqua make her entrance. We made eye contact and she smiled warmly at me; I grinned back. She always wore suits, but today she was sporting a slightly more casual outfit: a navy button up shirt tucked into a pair of black jeans. Her black heels clicked on the tiles and I noticed that she had her sleeves rolled up; probably due to the recent heatwaves. Destiny Islands was famous for having the highest temperatures out of all the worlds, especially during summer.

The rest of my team followed suit behind Aqua: Olette (the head of my PR team), Xion (head of my marketing team), and Marluxia (performance coordinator).  Olette was donning a flowing orange sundress with wedge sandals, Xion was wearing a sleek grey suit, and Marluxia was sporting a pink polo shirt with jeans. Aqua briefly scanned the room to make sure all members of my team were accounted for before starting.

“Alright guys let’s get started. I know I want to take my lunch break just as much as you all,” Aqua said. The room filled with soft laughter at the cheeky comment.

“First things first, let’s check in with you Kairi. How much progress have you made on your album since our last update?”

“Well…” I fidgeted with my pen as I skimmed over my notes. “I have about 5 songs that I finished writing lyrics for. I’m in the process of finish a 6thsong right now. How much time do I have left before the album has to be finalized?”

Aqua paused for a moment and glanced at her laptop.

“I met with Mickey, the head of the department and he said he’d like to have it finalized by September so… that gives you about 4 more months. He also said you needed to have at least 10 songs on the album, if not more.”

“That’s cutting a little bit short but as long as I have Pence to help me finish writing it should be okay. Is he going to be back soon?”

“Well… about that. Pence’s younger brother finally found a kidney donor.”

“Really?! That’s great!” I smiled and clasped my hands. They had been waiting for 6 months at this point. I sighed in relief, things would finally be okay for Pence’s family again.

“I know!” Aqua beamed back at me. “However, because of that he’s decided to take a leave of absence to help out his family back in Twilight Town. Which unfortunately means we have no music producer for you for a while.  However, no need to fear manager Aqua is here! I’ve already recruited some local producers to replace Pence in the meantime. If you don’t click with any, I can always look for more candidates, but it would be easier if you chose one of them for convivence’s sake. I’ll email you their resumes and sample songs for you to look over later. I even took the liberty to schedule interviews with them for this evening so we can get the ball rolling ASAP.”

My anxiety began to flare up at the prospect of interviewing strangers. Writing music was such an emotional and personal process for me; not to mention with someone completely new. Pence had helped me write some of my greatest radio hits and I trusted him so much. It was going to be difficult having to go without him this time.

“Thanks, Aqua, I’ll look over them during lunch. When are the interviews?” I responded, trying to mask the shakiness in my voice. I hid my hands under the table as they shook.

“I have 3 candidates; interviews start at 3PM with 30 minute time blocks for each candidate. Don’t worry, you’ll get out of here no later than 5 today. And with that out of the way, let’s move on to the next topic!”

Chatter broke out into the room and I began munching on my snack. Olette and Selphie discussed some modeling opportunity for ‘Destiny’ magazine, but I was barely paying attention. I breathed slowly, trying to calm down from the anxiety eating away at me until Olette interjected.

“Hey Kairi, have you heard of the Radiant Garden Met Gala? Yuffie is one of the fashion designers for this year; I met her at a networking conference last week. Apparently, she’s a big fan of yours and asked if she could have the honor of designing for you!” She pushed a stray hair behind her ear as she beamed at me excitedly.

The Met Gala was one of the biggest annual fashion events throughout all the worlds. While I never really cared for the press at big events, getting dressed up and admiring all of the designer’s hard work was my favorite thing about red carpet events.

“I’d love to attend, Selphie do I have room in my schedule for it?”

“Mmmmm…” she paused as she flipped through her planner, “Yeah! It is cutting it a bit close to your performance for the Island’s summer fest but definitely doable. Olette, can you give me Yuffie’s email so that I can coordinate the consultation and fitting?”

Olette nodded and began typing away at her laptop. Xion then stepped up to show some new merch designs for the team to look over on the projector. Aqua and I approved some, and requested alterations on others for her team to work on. Marluxia and Selphie then discussed some future performance dates. By the time the meeting was finished, my coffee and snack box were no more. Everyone fled out of the room saying their goodbyes quickly, excited for lunch.

“Hey Kairi, what are you in the mood for? Why don’t you go prepare for those interviews while I go pick up lunch?” Selphie asked.

“How about comfort food? Maybe some pad thai from that Asian place on Shinjitsu street?” I desperately needed something to calm my nerves with how on edge I felt.

“Oh, I love their orange chicken! I’ll head out now, be back in a flash! I wanna take a look at those resumes too when I get back. A new producer, how exciting!” she squealed. Grabbing her purse, she dashed out the door. I quickly packed up and headed back to my studio room. Once there, I made myself comfortable at the desk and pulled up my email.

Hey sweetheart!

Here are the 3 candidates I’ve picked out for you: Hayner, Seifer , and Sora. The first two have worked with some of my other artists I manage, and Sora was a recommendation from Xion herself. Apparently, they went to college together and he works with some of her other merchandise clients. As a reminder, interviews start at 3PM! I’ve told them to just meet you in your studio. Good luck and remember to check in with me tomorrow.

Sincerely,

Aqua

Artist Manager at Destiny Island Records

Deciding it was best to just go in order, I clicked on the first file titled ‘hayner.docx’. Previous artists he’d worked with included big names like Yuna and Paine. Yuna was well known for fast paced hip hop EDM songs and Paine did a lot of alternative rock. At least he was multifaceted, but neither genre was exactly my cup of tea. I clicked on the links to the sample songs listed but was only slightly impressed.

Then, I pulled up Seifer’s resume. Apparently, he’d been behind some of the top hits lately; many that I knew and enjoyed. I didn’t even need to take a listen to the samples; I knew the songs already. However, his style didn’t fit the vibe I was trying to go for on this album.  It was way too… club music-y and sexual. Before I even got a chance to look at the last candidate, Selphie waltzed in.

           “Kairi! I’m back!” the plastic bags crinkled loudly as she set them down on the table. She handed me my food and started to dig into hers before barraging me with questions.

           “So, have you looked at the resumes yet? What do you think so far?”

           “I’ve only looked at two. I’m not particularly interested in Hayner and Seifer is a maybe. I haven’t had a chance to look at this ‘Sora’ guy yet though.” I turned my laptop to her.

           “Wow the first two guys seem pretty accomplished! What’s wrong with the Hayner guy?”

           “His style doesn’t really fit with my vision for this album. I’m also not a punk or rock singer.”

           “Oh, I guess that’s true. Why is Seifer a maybe?”

           “I feel like he has a good track record for making hit singles, but that’s the only reason I’m considering him.”

           “You don’t need a producer to make hits! You have some of the best, no, thebest vocals I’ve ever heard. Don’t go with him just because you think he’s the technically correct choice. Why don’t we take a look at the last guy tog-e-herfmmf?”

           “After I finish my lunch. And Selphie, I love you but please don’t talk with your mouth full of food.”

           “Hey!” she pouted, and her face made me burst into a fit of giggles.

           Selphie scarfed down her lunch in 2 minutes while I ate my pad thai at a reasonable pace. She may have looked tiny and ladylike on the outside, but the girl was a monster when it came to food. There was a reason she didn’t do dinner dates on the first date; I’ve never met anyone with a more bottomless stomach than her.

           “Kairiiiii, I’m trying to be patient but you’re taking so long to eat! Can I just start looking at the Sora guy now?”

           I rolled my eyes. “It’s not my fault you eat at the speed of light. Are you sure you’re human?”

           She smacked my shoulder lightly and pouted.

           “Sorry, sorry. Yeah go ahead. Once Selphie had finished skimming the written portion, she played one of the sample songs. The song was soft and gentle, and a beautiful tenor voice sang over it.

           Don’t get me wrong I love you

           But does that mean I have to meet, your father

           When we are older, you’ll understand what I meant when I said no

           I don’t think, life is quite that simple

I was hooked. It was exactly the tone I was looking for with the added bonus of meaningful lyrics. Selphie noticed my eyes widen and sniggered.

           “There’s more sample songs listed, I’m assuming you want to hear the rest?”            “Yes please.” I immediately answered. She giggled once more at my eagerness.

           A sanctuary, my sanctuary, yeah

           Where fears and lies melt away

           Music in time

           I need more affection than you know

           What’s left of me, what’s left of me

The first song had been a bit more upbeat but this one sounded heavenly and dreamy… which is exactly what I had wanted for the song I was working on this morning. I quickly scarfed down the rest of my food before beckoning Selphie to give the laptop back.

           “Quite the eager beaver we have here huh?”

           “Shut up. I just happen to like these samples okay?”

I wiped my hands off on a napkin before scrolling back to the top of the resume. He had only worked with lesser known artists, and only had two years in the industry under his belt. Experience or not, it was obvious the guy was gifted. I absolutely needed to meet this man.

[dailrpwmf-blog]

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[thorne93]

Whirlwind Romance (Part 27)

Prompt: You’re getting married to Chris Evans… Everything in your life is perfect… Except when you break the news to your two best friends: Tom Hiddleston and Sebastian Stan

Word Count: 2077

Warnings: language, anger, angst, adult themes,

Notes: This is for @carryonmyswansong-archive challenge (Double Season, Multifaceted, 500 Follower Celebration, Writing Challenge!): Prompt – You’re marrying the wrong person! Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes@like-a-bag-of-potatoes bcuz shes amazing and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo@carryonmyswansong-archive for letting me brainstorm with them. Got this idea from @formyfandoms… Fic image made by the super bomb @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo…. @carryonmyswansong​

Over a year had gone by since you’d spoken to Chris that night.

Surprisingly, and happily, all was well in your world. In less than a week, you would be marrying Tom. A June wedding, at a venue you both loved, in a gown you searched far and wide for. With loved ones all around, to music you both picked, eating food you both tasted. It was like a dream come true.

Tomorrow night was your bachelorette party, where Elizabeth, AJ, and Scarlet were the hosts. Your cousins and some friends from college and films were going to be attending. You knew what some of the night held, but some of the night was still a mystery to you. Two nights after that was your rehearsal dinner. You thought a dinner before the wedding was sort of stupid, making the joke that, “I already know how to eat, why do I need to rehearse it?” but Tom said he wanted to do it right. He wanted to have a sort of casual get together with family and close friends before the big day.

The film with Tom had wrapped up four months ago and you were both on to other projects right now. Your charities were doing extremely well, and animals and children around the globe were getting help they desperately needed.

News about the breakup with Chris hit the tabloids a little over month after it happened. At first they just suspected the breakup because you two were no longer seen in public together. Then, they noticed the change of rings on your finger. Suddenly, they put two and two together that you were with Tom constantly, and no Chris in sight. But quickly it spiraled into a frenzy of fans being split between Tom and Chris. Your fans would pick who they thought you should be with. Chris’s fans hated you and Tom now. Tom’s fans hated you for taking him off the market, or they loved you for making him happy.

Can’t make everyone happy, right?

Rumors about affairs, babies, and secret weddings circulated you two on and off for a year. But you didn’t care. Lies and rumors in the tabloids wouldn’t be a first, and it wouldn’t end with you. You and Tom ignored it, going on happily. You two knew the truth, and that’s all you cared about.

Trying to take your mind off some of the wedding chaos and work, you decided to take a stroll near the beach. Tom was away in Vancouver right now, expected to return home in two days. Your feet carried you lazily over the boardwalk as ocean mist wrapped around your body, making your hair flow. Only a handful of people were out here, seeing as it was already late at night.

Your head was down for a moment, a small smile on your lips as you thought of Tom and the wedding, but when you brought your head back up, it was as if you’d seen a ghost.

He donned a dark beard, his hair slicked back. He was wearing a black jacket, as the air was rather cool tonight, and dark blue jeans. He didn’t see you at first, giving you a chance to take him in and adjust to seeing him for the first time in over a year.

Then, his eyes caught yours. He recognized your hair, your body, and he took a closer look. He was walking toward you, only about thirty-five feet away. A smile touched your lips and he returned it. You took this as an invitation to walk towards him.

Within a minute, you were in front of him.

“Hey,” you greeted kindly.

“Hi,” he returned.

“What are you doing here?” you wondered, glancing around. Chris being in LA, on this boardwalk, was just too surreal. He had no reason to be here.

“I have a layover. My flight takes off in the morning. Thought I would come clear my head. Couldn’t really settle down in my hotel,” he confessed.

“Ah, I see. So you just wanted a walk by the ocean?” you asked with a teasing smile.

His eyebrows shot up delicately in agreement. “Yes, exactly.” After a moment, he gestured to you. “And you? What’re you doing out roaming the streets of LA so late for?”

“Just needed to get some fresh air. Lots of… wedding plans,” you carefully stated.

His eyebrows raised and then lowered while he bobbed his head knowingly. “Ah, the wedding.”

“Yeah, it’s in a few days…” You chewed your lip for a second before adding, “I would’ve invited you it’s just… I didn’t want it to be awkward or weird for you and…”

He held up a hand. “Hey, no need to explain. I get it. I would’ve liked to seen you in your pretty wedding gown, but I don’t want to make that day weird for either of us.”

“Thanks… So you out filming?”

“Yeah, got a couple of things in the works,” he informed. “How about you?”

“Same here. Busy with work, and the wedding and everything. How have you been?”

“Good… Work has been steady. Dodger is doing really good. Taught him a couple new tricks.”

“Oh yeah? That’s awesome!”

“Yeah, he seems to like it. I’m getting to bring him along to filming more too. Trying to find more pet friendly hotels and stuff.”

“That’s wonderful. I’m so glad.”

The two of you nodded, realizing you had started walking down the pier, only two couples at the very far end were on it.

“So how about your family?” you inquired. “Mom and Dad good?”

“Yeah they’re doing great. I think Carly has found another teacher to date,” he stated.

“Oh, do you like the guy?”

“He’s alright. Seems smart and good to her. So can’t complain. What about you? Family still good?”

“Dad’s having a little bit of trouble. But he’s been getting to the doctor and getting care for his heart so that’s good. Mom’s working to the bone. Clint just changed jobs. Seems to really like it. My niece has grown up a lot,” you stated, laughing.

The two of you finally reached the end of the long pier. You leaned on the banister, gazing at Chris. He copied your figure and leaned, looking at you.

“Did her red hair ever change?”

“No,” you stated, laughing. “It just got stronger. It’s fire red now.”

“I bet it’s cute.”

“Yeah it is. Let me show you.” You pulled out your phone and showed him a few photos and one video of you two. Your niece was only three now.

“Cute,” he complimented, handing your phone back.

“Thanks… So… have you found anyone new or…?” you questioned, wanting to address the slight elephant in the room.

He made an amused, sad smirk. “Uh, no. No I’ve been out of the dating pool,” he answered.

“Oh? Why? You’re breaking a lot of hearts you know,” you teased, hitting him gently with your purse.

A sorrowful smile touched his face. “Yeah, I just…” He shook his head. “Nah, not for me. Not ready yet. Not exactly thrilled to go out there and repeat heartbreak all over again.”

You nodded understandingly. You wanted to offer an apology, but at this point, you’d said you were sorry many times and it wouldn’t help anything.

“I’m sorry,” you uttered anyway. You felt you needed to say it, at least. Even if it didn’t mean anything. Even if it offered no consolation, you wanted to say it.

“Hey, you don’t have to be sorry,” he said, waving you off.

“I know but… I… I feel awful for breaking your heart. I hope you know that. I hope you know I never intended to do that.”

“Sweetheart, it’s fine. You loved Tom. Hell, I think I could see it and I didn’t want to.”

You frowned. “You could?”

“Sure. I mean, you were right. While I watched the game, you were reading. When I drug you along to the sporting events you texted Tom. When you dragged me to the museums, I wasn’t as interested in them as he would be.”

You shrugged, not knowing how to respond. All you could do was agree.

“In a perfect world, we could look past that. I mean, people are gonna have different interests. But with this… yeah, we had some compatibility issues. It took me a long time to realize it, but you were right.”

“About us…?”

“Yeah. It still sucks ass. But I saw how I was steering everything we did, and I didn’t want to do that. You and I love and want different things, and that's okay.”

You nodded. “Yeah, it is. You’re perfect, Chris. I hope you know that. Everything from your teeth to your amazing laugh,” you said with a loving grin. “Just not perfect for me… but hey, maybe you’ll find a chick that loves going to the games with you and believes Boston is the best city in the world.”

“Yeah, I hope so. But hey, if it doesn’t happen, at least I had three amazing years with you.”

“I’m glad you’re delusional enough to believe that,” you joked.

But Chris’s face remained serious. “I’m serious. No matter what happened between us, I was happy and you were happy. We had a good thing going and I think that’s what matters.”

You nodded your agreement. “It does... Yeah. We really did have a good time.”

“I hope Tom doesn’t mess this up because losing you is the hardest thing that’s happened to me.”

For a moment you were quiet, you didn’t know what to say. “So far he is great. Now, that all might change after the wedding. He may start letting himself go, be a dick…” you joked, Chris joining you in chuckling.

“He’s a good guy,” he affirmed. “Other than proposing to my fiance, that is.”

You bobbed your head side to side. “Everyone has their downfalls.”

To this, he laughed.

“All the other shit aside, I’m really happy for you, Y/N. I miss you like crazy, and I still love you, but if we weren’t meant to be, then it is what it is. I know you didn’t want to hurt me and I’ve accepted that. So long as you’re happy and okay, that’s all I want.”

A tear stung your eye. “You too, Chris. I just want you to have the world, you deserve it.”

He gave you a fond smile before opening his arms, inviting you in. “Come’mere.”

You smiled through the tears and embraced him. This felt… nice. It felt therapeutic to talk to him, to have this time together, to know he was doing okay. To know you hadn’t completely broken one man for another.

When you finally let go, you peered at him, still holding onto his biceps. “But you’re really okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah I’ll be fine. I’m doing good.”

The two of you started to walk back away from the end of the pier, back towards the boardwalk.

“Good. Don’t know if this would be too weird to ask, but you’re welcome to come to the wedding, if you’d like.”

“Would Tom be okay with that?”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I think he’ll be okay as long as I’m there, the rest is just… details.”

“I’ll think about it. Shoot me a text with the info.”

“Will do.”

A little bit of small talk flowed between you two before you said goodbye to each other. He gave you a kiss on the cheek and you held him tightly. Telling him you hoped to see him at the wedding. He said he would try and be there.

You walked away that night finally feeling better about how things ended between you two. You’d tried to justify in your head how you’d hurt Chris unintentionally but it wasn’t until you heard him say that he understood why you left, that you felt it was okay. Even though you’d never stay with Chris just to keep him happy, you still felt guilty for breaking his heart. He didn’t do anything wrong, he didn’t ever make you feel bad. In the end, it just wasn’t meant to be. And you wanted to know if he would be okay.

Now that you knew he was, you felt like you could take this next huge step in your life with no baggage, or worries. Just you and Tom, forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[redsunsetxiii]

**Please do not repost without credit**

[TRANS] 2018.04.27 SONE NOTE LIVE vol. 15 with Yuri

Staff: You tried making Japanese food today! You proposed the plan this time, right?

Yuri: Yes! I watched the J-drama, “Midnight Diner", and recently became really interested in cooking. I’ve made Korean and Western food before, but not Japanese food. The various dishes that were in the drama were of course very interesting, but it was very impressionable how all the dishes were made from the heart and how that flavor comforts the one who is eating it. With that, I thought I’d like to try making it myself.

Staff: Do you usually eat Japanese food? Or please share if there is something you especially like!

Yuri: I eat Japanese food a lot. During the Japan tours I ate it all the time, and I like it enough to go to Japanese restaurants in Korea! Recently I like donburi and I especially like curry katsudon. I like tonkatsu and okonomiyaki, too. Also, that tofu dish, what was the name...ah! Agedashi tofu! I like that too.  Moreover, I like unagi, and I really like hitsumabushi. It’s to the point where one asks, why do I like it so much? (laughs) It is so delicious, full of nutrients, and gives lots of energy. I have it as a stamina dish when I’m tired like after a concert to bring out my energy, so to me hitsumabushi is a healing food (laughs) Also, before debuting in Japan, I had fried oysters for the first time when I traveled with Sooyoung, and it was very new to me because that’s an unusual dish in Korea.  And, I also like sukiyaki...I like way too many things that I don’t know what my favorite is (laughs) I believe that I just like Japanese food as a whole ^^

Staff: What kind of flavors do you like?

Yuri: I usually like those that bring out the original flavor. When I want to taste something strong, I don’t have rice and instead have something sweet.

Staff: How was the flavor of nikujaga today?

Yuri: It was really good! I didn’t think that I’d be able to make it that well (laughs) It is my first time making Japanese food... I was unsure if I’d be able to make it well, but I still have the memory of how it tasted in Japan, and in some way or another managed to imitate that (laughs)

Staff: Any difference between the flavors of what you made and what you’ve had?

Yuri: It might be because I made it, but I feel that what I made today was the most delicious! (While she was eating) It’s really good~♪ I want to eat this together with SONE JAPAN~ ^^

Staff: I believe that Japanese cooking has differences in Korean cooking, such as how to cut the ingredients, how to make the soup stock, but please share if there were any difficult or creative points. 

Yuri: It was a surprising experience and really curious to make dashimaki tamago. I didn’t know that it took such careful time to make. Without knowing that, I just ate it without a thought up until now... It would be good if I had it while properly knowing thoroughness needed to make it. I thought about all the daishimake tamago that I had up until now while making it today (laughs). Other than that, the dishes I made had surprisingly few steps and were quick to make. I could make them at home! The hardest to make was dashimaki tamago. I believe it’s a dish that requires a lot of skill. I still don’t have the technique to roll it well enough or the persistence for making it (laughs).

Staff: Come to think of it, you were probably nervous when making the dashimaki tamago, but you had a cute mistake of spilling egg from the bowl since you were concentrating so much on the frying pan ^^

Yuri: You caught that (laughs) However, I think I was able to calmly cook 5x than normal today. The teacher helped me out a lot and there was a camera in front of me (laughs) Today I was able to cook while the teacher helped clean up, but at home I get rushed and have to do everything alone. My mother always said to clean up while cooking. She always said to me that cooking needs 3 things done at the same time, but honestly I didn’t really understand what she meant. However, with today’s experience, I really know how amazing my mother is (laughs).

Staff: It seems that you’ve really come to learn the points about Japanese food.  You made three dishes today; which one did you like the best? Please also share the reasons of why you like it, like how it’s made, the flavor and coloring. 

Yuri: It’s hard to choose... but probably nikujaga. Of course some corners were cut for time, but I was surprised how I could properly make it since there were only a few cooking steps. And I think that I can make donburi using nikujaga! I often make bentou, but the keyword when making them is “simple”. I often make fried rice or something like a donburi for bentou, but a nikujaga-don would be perfect for that. I’ll try it later.

Staff: Dishes and tableware are an important point for Japanese food; how were the ones you used?

Yuri: I could feel the Japanese culture from the tableware today, and it had good harmony with the food. The food itself is important, but I believe that it is complete because of the tableware. The dishes for Japanese food are very pretty, and among the ones from today, the green from the shiso leaves and the yellow from the egg was beautiful had good harmony, so the tableware for the dashimaki tamago was my favorite. 

Staff: Also, did anything stand out for you when you tried to serve the food?

Yuri: While arranging the food, I thought that cooks are wonderful because they comfort the soul. That’s because the ones that cook think about the ones who will eat the food. I think that true happiness is to make something for someone. Feeling the enjoyment and love while being able to cook was really great. Of course, I ate my own cooking today... (laughs) When you eat delicious food, you feel the care and comfort from the ones that made it and I believe you can feel happiness. 

Staff: Come to think of it, you split some of today’s cooking with the staff.

Yuri: I like to enjoy eating with others. I also like home parties. Also, my mother really loves cooking to the point where she has a certification, and I grew up seeing her cook food for everyone around her, so I enjoy having delicious food with everyone.

Staff: With today’s experience, have you thought about trying to make Japanese food at home?

Yuri: Yes, of course! To the extent that I want to have a Japanese cooking series on SONE NOTE LIVE! I want to try cooking even more enjoyable dishes or something a little more difficult.

Staff: What would you like to try to make?

Yuri: Okonomiyaki.  That reminds me, I tried making takoyaki with the members, but it was such a failure (laughs). I received a takoyaki cooking plate as a present and tried it out, but it got soft and all the ingredients inside came out (laughs) I think it’s better to eat it at a takoyaki stand (laughs)

Staff: What would you make if you were going to cook for the members?

Yuri: I’d want to make sukiyaki for the members. I’ve also tried making this before, but I didn’t have Japanese ingredients and got Korean ones instead, so I somehow made it but the flavor was a little different. That’s why I want to try to make it again, and it’d be perfect to split and eat it with everyone, as it’s a favorite among everyone. 

Staff: Do you usually cook? If yes, what’s your best dish or what do you often make?

Yuri: I often make mackerel cooked with kimchi. It’s very good. Also, since I like donburi, I also often make spicy beef bowls. I also make kimchi fried rich, jaja fried rice, misochige nabe, kimchichige nabe, etc. I’m the type to try making a lot of things at home. I can also make wakame soup with beef.

Staff: What’s your kitchen like?

Yuri: I have a lot of cookware. I have so much that I don’t know where everything is (laughs) I have a pot for cooking things like sweet potatoes, but that has rocks laid inside. Sweet potatoes are usually boiled or cooked inside an oven, but they can be cooked in a really short time with that pot. It’s really amazing! That’s my favorite cookware.

Staff: Is there any cookware that you used today that you’d like to take home?

Yuri: The frying pan used for the dashimaki tamago. I saw it before in videos. Recently, I like watching videos and I often watch videos that have to do with cooking. That frying pan is something I’ve always wanted!

Staff: You talked about cooking games during today’s experience.

Yuri: I’m not really the type to play a lot of games, but I enjoy ones like cooking games, beauty games, and games where you run a theme park. If I cooked with such caution like today, all the customers in the game would be angry and go home (laughs) I found a cute cooking game recently and even recommended it to Tiffany. 

Staff: Do you have any interest in Japanese culture besides the food?

Yuri: Yes, a lot. I like anything that’s cute like character goods or accessories. I lose track of time when I enter a store and get caught up in the quality and craftsmanship of the goods. 

Staff: You tried Japanese cooking today, but please share if there’s anything that you recently came interested in. 

Yuri: I’ve returned to basics. Before, I really enjoyed listening to music and watching movies and dramas, but all of that is related to work, so I’ve tried to distance myself from all that when I rest. However, recently I’ve listened to a lot of music and watch a lot of movies. I’ve made a room into a theater at home and watch movies there! I watch all genres, sweet romances, thrillers, and horror films. I’ve surprised fans on SNS with what genres of movies I watch.

Staff: The Winter 2018 Olympics happened in Pyeongchang. Are there any sports that you were particularly interested in? 

Yuri: I was moved by all the sports and athletes, but I was especially interested in speed skating. It was the most exciting competition in Korea. The athletes showed great effort and I enjoyed watching them!

Staff: Not just restricting it to winter sports, but is there any sport that you’d like to try?

Yuri: I’ve recently started pilates and it’s really great. It’s difficult to subtly move the body’s muscles one by one, but its fun. 

Staff: Please share if there’s any hot topic or a memorable episode among the members recently. 

Yuri: Recently, everyone gathered at Tiffany’s to celebrate Sooyoung’s birthday and I brought along my dog. There are a lot of members who have dogs and we all love them. I have a silver toy poodle, which Hyoyeon really favored and she immediately got one of her own. Afterwards, Taeyeon also got a silver toy poodle! We’ve talked about how fun if we all got our dogs to meet and play together. It’s fun to share updates on our dogs ^^

Staff: Last year was SNSD’s 10th anniversary; looking back is there any achievement that left an impression?

Yuri: The first Japan tour was the most impressionable. I was so nervously excited at that time, and was half hopeful and half uneasy. It was our first Japan tour, so it felt like an unknown world and I had a lot of anxiety and worries. I worried if a lot of Japanese fans would come, and it was the first time working with Japanese staff, so all of it was new and thrilling... But at any rate, it was fun. I’ll never forget it.

Staff: SONE NOTE LIVE is where we give preference to what the members what to try out, but do you all talk about your SONE NOTE LIVE activities?

Yuri: We often ask each other what we’ve done! I was really jealous when Hyoyeon tried out horseback riding~. It’s because I love riding them, too (laughs) I told Hyoyeon that a photo shoot while on horseback is the best.

Staff: Finally a message for SONE JAPAN please! 

Yuri: I’ve really, really thankful that you’ve all waited for such a long time, and for watching over us. I really want to see SONE JAPAN. I’m in the middle of shooting a drama in Korea now, but I believe there will be a chance for you all in Japan to see it as well. I want to have a concert and fan club event in Japan again♡

Translation by RedSunsetXIII source: SONE JAPAN website

**Please do not repost without credit**

[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

[lacrosselifestyle]

An Insight into Endicott Lacrosse with Matt DiLorenzo

Hailing from the city of Monroe, New York, Matthew DiLorenzo now plays lacrosse at Endicott College, a small college located on the North Shore of Massachusetts, in a quaint town called Beverly. DiLorenzo, or as his teammates call him, DiLo, is a six foot tall, 170 pound, long stick defender, which means he plays defense right in front of the goal with a longer stick than an offensive player uses. While he might be tall and slim, DiLorenzo is not one to underestimate on the field, as he was the 2019 Don Bosco Prep MVP. DiLorenzo went to Don Bosco Prep in New Jersey for high school, where he played lacrosse all four years. DiLorenzo wears number 30, the same number he wore throughout his high school career. At Endicott, DiLorenzo is majoring in exercise science, and wants to go into athletic training when he is older, as helping people out is one of his many passions. DiLorenzo is also a part of the Exercise Science Club at Endicott, where he hones his skills in the field he is going into. Even though DiLorenzo has not gotten to play much yet because of the Covid-19 Pandemic, he is an integral part of the team and helps out in more ways than most. He is especially helpful in coaching up the younger players, as he is very knowledgeable about the sport of lacrosse. Outside of lacrosse, DiLorenzo is a great guy to hang out with and a friend to many. Now, here is a deeper insight into DiLorenzo.

How did you get started with lacrosse?

I played football growing up, and one of the kids on my team, who I was pretty good friends with, had a dad who coached lacrosse. So I talked to him about it with my dad and my dad said I should give it a try since we had never heard of lacrosse. I ended up trying it and I thought it was really fun. I liked it because it’s kind of like football but with a stick.

How was the commitment process for college?

It was definitely difficult because my high school coach didn’t really help at all so I pretty much had to do it by myself. My parents really helped a lot too, but it was mostly about filling out a lot of paperwork and making highlight tapes and a lot of tedious work that you have to do over and over again to get in front of a lot of coaches, but in the end it paid off. It was also a lot about finding out what coaches you do and don’t like and finding out where you fit in and what kind of players the coaches are looking for.

What other choices did you have for schools to go to besides Endicott?

I had a good amount of other options for school, but my top ones were: Springfield College in Massachusetts, Washington College in Maryland, The University of Scranton in Pennsylvania, and Fairleigh Dickinson University in New Jersey. I also probably could have walked on at a lot of colleges if I decided to go somewhere else.

Why did you choose Endicott?

I chose Endicott for a lot of reasons, but the main reason was the internship program, I mean obviously lacrosse was a big factor too, but after hearing about the internship program it really set Endicott apart from all of the other schools I was looking at.

What are your goals now that you’re on a college team?

My biggest goal is to be an All-American, but that’s what pretty much everyone else’s goal is too. Some smaller goals would be to start for sure or just to get some playing time in general. Maybe even scoring a goal, like at least one would be cool for me, but that’s more of a hope really. Obviously as a team goal I want to win the CCC Championship, but besides that there’s not really anything else.

What is your favorite part about playing defense, as opposed to another position?

To begin with I don’t really get hit as much and I get to do the hitting which is a lot less pain for me and helps me get my anger out a little bit. I don’t have to run too much either anymore which is nice because I played some LSM in high school and I would always be winded after doing that so I don’t really want to do that again unless I have to. There is the occasion that I have to step in front of a shot and get hit but I don’t really mind that too much anymore.

How is playing your position different from playing LSM?

So now I play close defense which is like just the guys that play right in front of the goal. LSM stands for long stick midfield, which basically means I have the same stick which is longer than offensive players' sticks, but I run a lot more and have to play some offense sometimes.

How would you describe your playing style?

Definitely faced paced. I’m not really too much of a flashy or take away player, but I’m more of a team player in the sense that I don’t often get beat by the guy I’m guarding and I’ll do everything I can to get in his face and just play solid defense, and hopefully he either drops the ball and I’m in the position to make a play. I’m more of an IQ player too, like I know all the plays and where everyone should be standing and stuff like that.

What do you look for in a coach and what do you like about the Endicott Coaches?

I like a coach that is hard on you and tells you if you’re doing something wrong because they actually want you to be better, but doesn’t just yell at you to be a jerk or anything. As far as our coaches, they are really good guys and care about us and want us to be better men off of the lacrosse field as well as on the field. 

What about your playstyle helps you stand out against other players on the team?

I have a very high lacrosse IQ and I know what I am doing on the field, like I am never lost on defense and I always know where to go and what to do while playing. I also help the younger guys on the team out and help tell them where they need to be on the field in certain situations and just help them out in general. 

What about helping the younger guys do you enjoy?

I just like helping out the team anyway I can. I just figure later down the road they’ll be playing at some point and I would rather have someone playing with me that knows what they're doing because It helps out both me and the rest of the team. Also seeing them fix their mistakes in practice and get better is really rewarding to see. 

What other sports are you a fan of and what other athletes do you admire?

I’m a big football fan and it’s really the only other sport that I like to watch. As for athletes I admire, I love Eli Manning, not just because I’m a Giants fan, but because he’s a really great person too. He does a lot of charity work which I admire a lot and he also won the Walter Payton Man of the Year Award. Another thing I like about him is that he is really humble which is always good.

Do you try to emulate any of that with the way you play lacrosse?

Yeah I try to be humble for sure and not be too cocky or anything like that. I just try to play my game and not get distracted too which is something he does well, and I also try to just be a good person in general and play fairly.

What is one of the weaknesses in your game that you think you need to improve on?

Definitely opening my mouth more. I’m a pretty quiet individual so I always have to think about communicating with my teammates because that is a huge part of having success at this level.  I think I’m pretty strong skill wise but my communication is not as good just cause I’m not a super talkative person.

Do you have any other hobbies?

Yeah I like playing video games and watching T.V. when I’m not busy. I like cooking a lot too. That’s one of my favorite hobbies for sure because I like good food and I like eating, which I guess is another hobby.

What video games do you play?

I haven’t played in a while, but I like Call of Duty, the Star Wars video game called Fallen Order, and the P.G.A. Tour game is really fun too. I’m not a huge sports game guy though because they just piss me off too much. Mortal Combat is really good too though, I love that game.

Do you have any rituals or superstitions you do before a game?

Sometimes if I play well in a game I’ll wear the same pair of socks or underwear in the next game. Obviously I wash them just so everybody knows. Or if I play well with a certain eye black style I’ll just keep wearing that style for a while. Maybe I’ll try to eat a certain breakfast a lot if I play well after eating something specific. I’m a big pasta dinner the night before a game too cause you gotta be ready for the game and have enough energy, but that’s about it.

[theliterateape]

The Troubling Ballad of Cowboy Bob

by Don Hall

In fifty-four years of traipsing about on the planet, I can’t recall a single time I requested to speak to the manager. I can only remember one or two times in that span that I chose to call the police to diffuse a situation. Probably a few more times than that when I was actively hostile to a service worker and then mostly on the phone which each time was followed by a sincere apology.

Perhaps I’m a doormat when it comes to getting the wrong order or not receiving the expected service in these situations but I genuinely do not comprehend that impulse when confronted with these circumstances.

No one should be required to suffer abuse at the hands of a disgruntled customer and no one getting minimum wage should have their employment held over their head for refusing to take shit while simply trying to do their job.

We called him Cowboy Bob. It wasn’t his name but I dubbed him that the first time I encountered him and the name stuck for not only the casino staff but also with many of our regulars who despised him.

That first meeting was on a Sunday before the pandemic. It was football season and the Sportsbook was packed with bettors sitting in the big chairs watching multiple games on the fifteen or so large screen televisions. Drinks were flowing and we were training a new bartender. She was a slip of a woman, twenty-three or so, and not quite used to the rough crowd at the West.

Allegra, one of my regular bartenders and not someone to be fucked with, approached me.

“Myra’s crying because that asshole,” and she pointed to a middle-aged guy with a goatee and a white cowboy hat sitting in the front row with a female friend by his side, “that asshole has been barking at her all morning. Every time she brings a drink he has an issue, insults her, and when I went over to talk to him he called me a bitch for even saying something.”

There are a few things that piss me off while wearing my managerial hat but someone verbally abusing my hardworking, low-paid staff is at the top of that festering list. I stroll over to the dude, squat down so we are on eye-level, and quietly let him in on the skinny.

“Can I have a word? Seems like you’re in a foul mood and are being kind of hostile to my bar staff...no, hold on. I’ll let you explain if you want. Let me finish. Here’s the deal — I’m no fan of that behavior as I’m sure you are not as well so I want to present you with a choice, OK? 

You can either apologize to both my bartenders for your rude behavior and if they believe it, they might continue serving you and your lady friend drinks today. Or, you can double down, refuse to apologize and the result will be that you can enjoy our casino any time you like but you will never be served as much as a glass of ice for the rest of your life while in here. 

Whaddya think, Cowboy Bob?”

You could see his anger and frustration bubbling up in different areas of his face, neck, and hands as he wrestled with his response. I never took my eyes off of his as he decided. Finally, he rose, turned to Myra and Allegra and offered his apology with the counter apology that if they weren’t so busy perhaps they’d get his drinks right. But, dontcha know, he understood.

The ladies decided to continue serving him drinks and he subsequently tipped them generously for each drink (more to save face with his date than anything I said but the effect was the same).

The next time Bob came in, he was all smiles to me. He roped me into conversations about how I was the best manager around and that I should be running the place. Cowboy Bob was a Time Share Salesman. He was apparently pretty good at it as he routinely told me his monthly earnings but always with the caveat that he could’ve done much better but the other people in his office were incompetent.

He still “called for the manager” when someone took too long with his drink or at the gift shop when he bought a snack but, as I was that manager, things rarely got out of hand. He had an inside manager in his perspective.

As time progressed he opened up and shared with me how he really didn’t get along with anyone he worked with. In lieu of jumping down the throats of my staff, he’d bring me over to give me advice about that bitch at the cage or the cunt in the Sportsbook. He advocated that I, the best manager in the place, should fire these people because they just didn’t get it.

On one occasion, he informed me that he could sue the casino and the dippy bitch at the gift shop for selling him a bag of potato chips he ate and then got diarrhea. Mind you, these were the fucked up flavored kettle chips — something like pickle brine and pork chop flavor — but he went into detail about how he could sue but wouldn’t because he wasn’t that kind of guy.

Once in awhile, I tried to crack into him and find out what the deal was with the routine mistreatment of those whom he saw as requiring deference to him and his whims.

Granted, assigning motivations is tricky business. Therapists are paid for it and they don’t even know what the fuck they’re doing. You ever meet a professional therapist without some paste fetish or completely dysfunctional relationship with their parents? That said, Cowboy Bob struck me as a conservative guy with a chip on his shoulder. 

His work history, as he shared it, was filled with asshole co-workers and women bosses who didn’t get him. It seemed that he got along with absolutely no one he’d worked with in years. He was a low-key kind of bigot who had figured out he couldn’t call the Asian guy in the casino a jap or the black porter a darkie so he trucked in subtle stereotyping instead. All clothed in the kind of language that sounded very corporate yet damning at the same time.

I, like almost everyone in the place, didn’t much care for Cowboy Bob but we were in our honeymoon period and it was better to have to listen to him drone on than have him verbally attack my staff so I took it for the team.

[CUT TO PANDEMIC, THREE-MONTH SHUTDOWN, AND A LOSS OF SPORTS TO BET ON]

We re-opened the casino but sports was pretty much cancelled so we didn’t see Bob around.

Then one day, once football started up:

“Security to M.O.D. I have a guest threatening to sue me personally for harassment because I ask him to put on his mask.”

“Copy that. On my way.”

Of course it was CB. And of course he pulled me aside to complain. He was agitated and sweaty.

“Can I have a minute? Yeah. I understand that Black Lives Matter and all that stuff but All Lives Matter, you know? All Lives not just black ones and I need to tell you that your security guard? The fat one over there? He’s just, well, maybe too enthusiastic with his job. I mean, I’m just trying to watch a football game and he’s up in my face about this mask thing...”

“Bob. That’s his job. Were you wearing your mask?”

“So, wait a minute, you’re just going to ignore how he made me feel by telling me this is all my fault? Because that’s not about service, that’s about control.”

“Bob, he doesn’t bother anyone who’s wearing a mask. You gotta wear it. We want to stay open and them’s the rules.”

“So this is now about control? Is that what you’re saying? You’re trying to control me, Don, and...” He went on for at least two straight minutes. I finally held up my hand.

“Just wear your mask, Bob. That’s it. No mask, you have to leave.”

“Are we done? Are we done? Are you done talking already? I’m just trying to watch a football game and I’m not doing that because, why? Why? So you can defend an illegal thing to control me and a fat guard? I’m here to watch a football game.”

“Then watch your fucking game, dude!”

“Well, then. You just used profanity. I’ll be contacting corporate about that.”

“Groovy. Now put your mask on or your can watch it someplace that’s not right here.”

“AND you threatened me. Profanity and a threat. Great professionalism.”

“Bob?”

“What?”

“Stuff it up your ass, OK?”

He stayed, mask on, throughout the game. My security officer watched him like a hawk to make sure that fucking mask was on tight.

I’ll never really understand the weird entitled instincts to use the phrases “I need to see your manager” and “I’m calling corporate” but watch enough Public Freakout YouTubes and it’s not hard to see how much an outlier I am in this regard.

Not long ago, I wrote that we’ve all become ‘Karen’ and it’s true. Perhaps the digital age has conditioned us to be the asshole who wants someone fired as punishment for shattering his protected worldview of personal autonomy. Maybe we’ve always been this way and the onslaught of undeterred opinions swarming around us makes us want to punish those around us not convinced of our divine right to a perfect bag of chips.

In an imperfect world a bit of leeway should probably be given to those employed to serve us. Managers should do their best to balance the needs of the guests and the rights of their staff. I’m amazed at these petty minded people who demand to see the manager, think that ‘calling corporate’ is a credible threat, who use the power of their patronage to cancel others.

I’m amazed but unimpressed.

I hope Cowboy Bob goes to another Sportsbook and haunts it’s staff but I’m pretty sure he’ll be back. Every place has a Cowboy Bob and he’s mine, I suppose.

[backroombuzz]

NY Mets Tim Tebow Tweet Has Liberals Swinging For The Fences

NY Mets Tim Tebow Tweet Has Liberals Swinging For The Fences

Tim Tebow is the only Football player that, according to liberals, has no right to kneel on a football field, or anywhere else for that matter. Spring training for Major League Baseball doesn't begin for nearly a month yet, but for Tim Tebow haters it was "Play Ball." Moments after The New York Mets announced that the outfielder will start spring training in their major league camp, the man the left loves to hate was in their sights. We’ve invited nine players to major league #SpringTraining including: Peter Alonso, P.J. Conlon, Kevin Kaczmarski, Patrick Mazeika, Drew Smith, Corey Taylor, Tim Tebow, David Thompson and Adonis Uceta. #Mets — New York Mets (@Mets) January 19, 2018 Tebows' 1st Season Wasn't Record Breaking, but... Overall, he finished the year with a .226 batting average, eight home runs, and 52 RBIs. He hit .220 with three home runs and 23 RBIs in 64 games for the Columbia Fireflies of the South Atlantic League before being promoted to the Florida State League in June. He hit five home runs and 29 RBIs for the St. Lucie Mets. Team GAMES PA AVG/OBP/SLG HR RBI BB% K% Columbia 64 244 .220/.331/.336 3 23 9.8% 28.3% St. Lucie 62 242 .231/.307/.356 5 29 7.9% 23.6% Total 126 486 .226/.309/.347 8 52 8.8% 25.9%   From the splits Tebows' lowering his strikeout rate, in a tougher league means that he was 'seeing' the ball better. I know it's not a lot to hang your baseball cap on, but, considering Tebow had not played baseball competitively since high school, is pretty damn impressive. In fact, hitting .226 with a not outrageous strikeout rate gave the New York Mets a legitimate reason to give Tebow another look. Plus he does bring in fans. As evidenced by Tebow doubling and tripling attendance at every park he played at. Once you adjust for the league offensive environment, Tebow was approximately 8 percent worse than league average with Columbia and 3 percent worse than average with St. Lucie. Since Tebow had not played professional baseball in over 10-years, he wasn't great, but he didn't stink out the joint either. Jordon vs Tebow The only person I could think of, that was in a similar position as Tebow, was Michael Jordon. The Chicago Bull Basketball great left the game to start his Baseball career. Unlike Tebow who is an old 26-years-old, by Baseball standards, Jordon was ancient at age 31. Jordon played 127 games, hitting just .202 with 3 Home runs and a strikeout rate of 27% in MJ's first and only year playing professional baseball. MICHAEL JORDAN TIM TEBOW Games 127 35 Plate Appearances 497 138 Hits 88 28 Home Runs 3 3 RBIs 51 14 Runs 46 18 Strikeouts 114 37 Walks 51 13 AVG/OBP/SLG .202/.289/.266 .230/.319/.369 SB/CS 30/18 0/0   Same Old Excuses Despite putting up numbers that earned at least a second chance for Tebow to show the Mets improvement, the left was quick to jump all over the NY Mets announcement. Many trotted out the old "He's taking a spot from someone else." Funny, those that use this lazy, tired, excuse, never mention exactly who that person is that was more deserving? It's the old standby saying for those who don't actually have a legitimate reason but feel the need to disparage the person they hate. Similar to how Democrats cry "He's a racist" then never having to explain exactly why the person is racist. The lefty writers also went with the other old excuse "They are only doing this to draw in fans." Umm, what is every team from A-ball to the MLB trying to do? Draw fans to the ballpark. Winning is almost secondary to attendance. Without fannies in the seats, no team except maybe the New York Yankees will sign better players for more money, to make their team win more games. For those that use these excuses means they are just lazy reporters, in need of a somewhat legitimate excuse to attack the person they hate most. The Left Swings For The Fences Never addressing the fact that Tim Tebow had not swung at a 98mph fastball in over a decade, the left hatred of Tebow seems to be enough of an excuse to disparage him. USA Today's Gabe Lacques took a couple cheap shots at Tebow by comparing him to Don Quixote? "The telegenic former Heisman Trophy winner will once again be the most scrutinized player in camp as his quixotic bid to forge a career in baseball resumes. "In 2017, he was added frequently to the major league roster and – after going to the wrong on-deck circle before his first at-bat – did not embarrass himself often in nine Grapefruit League games, starting 0 for 9 before pushing his average as high as .235 and getting hits off reputable major league pitchers such as St. Louis’ Michael Wacha. He finished with a .148 spring average (4 for 27) with eight strikeouts." R.J. Anderson, of CBS Sports, said it's been a quiet offseason for Tebow, which ... "... should help (if only a little) remove the sideshow veneer from his attempt at a baseball career. ... As such, there's no real downside to bringing him to the big-league side during the spring and seeing what happens. In three months' time, nobody will remember or care." Dan Crawford, writer for the Busted Coverage blog, joined the chorus from a sarcastic angle, saying it slipped his mind that Tebow is the same guy who was mashing home runs and making Gold Glove-caliber plays in left field last season: "It seems to me that the Mets aren’t here to play games. They’re all in on TebowMania. You can call it a PR stunt or call it a way to sell more tickets, but it doesn’t matter. It’s not like Mets management is out here to win games. Even if he stinks, bring him on up. He got his year in the minors, now it’s time for big boy baseball. We’re going to need this in the dog days of summer. "I’ll just say this, it will be a major disappointment if we don’t see him trotting out to left at Citi Field by the All-Star break." Yahoo! Sports' Darin Gantt wrote "The Mets aren’t backing down from the Tim Tebow experiment/publicity stunt," but did add he "was a good teammate and the kind of citizen other people want to be around." Yahoo! Sports' Liz Roscher wrote the Mets may not cut him too quickly because he draws fans and they "probably want to get their slice of the 'Tebow effect' pie, too." Believe it or not, the rhetoric has been toned down. Maybe the liberals feel Tebow who places God above all else, is no longer a threat to their Godless ideology? But considering that Major League Baseball is almost impossibly hard to play, and Tebow's chances for a career are pretty slim. It is still amazing that in the middle of Winter, one little tweet about Tim Tebow can still get Liberals so hot under the collar. Read the full article

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The Nuances of Seances.3

Previous Chapter

The shopfront looked downtrodden as fuck and the last place that Laxus wanted to go in was there. However, the first thing he wanted to be in again was Mirajane and, well, here they were.

"Ooh, spooky," Mira beamed as, upon opening the door tot he little shop, they were welcomed with a fitting decor. The walls were lined with shelves full of spell books that, after glancing at the titles, Laxus wasn't so sure he shouldn't be alerting the magic council about as well as multiple knickknack items that he wasn't so sure he should just be alerting everyone about.

Elfman, more worried about the crampedness of the locale, frowned as he looked around. He'd already hit his allowance for things broken that day (he was typically given three, but the table certainly counted as much) and did not want another scolding from Evergreen and Mirajane.

"What is this place?" he muttered to Ever who was looking around in disgust, Freed doing much the same. "Some sort of magic shop?"

"It is the shop of all dark magics big and small!"

The loud exclamation made Evergreen jump and Elfman tense up, as if ready to start breaking everything, scoldings be damned. Men don't worry about the punishment, after all. They take their licks without fear. Especially if it means protecting their woman!

The voice continued, however, before he could make a judgment call.

"Of course," the man that they then saw behind the counter at the front of the dark lit shop went on, "that is not to say that I, myself, partake in such dark matters. Rather, I see myself as a...collector. Yes, a collector. Who perhaps at times does sully himself with dirty deeds, but also can find himself doing the upmost of good. Who-"

"We," Freed sighed as Laxus almost let out a long groan, "are for sure in the right place."

"Good morning," Mirajane greeted in the cheerful tone only someone who'd been promised by their boyfriend a chance to buy any kitchen table the wanted could have. "We're here because our friend Bickslow-"

"Mira?"

Samael?"

"That," Freed complained as Laxus stared in shock while his girlfriend rushed through the tiny shop over to the man, "can't possibly be his name."

"He's friends with Bickslow," Ever reminded. "Anything's possible."

"Wait." Elfman frowned down at the two of them. "When you all say that you have friends outside of the rest of us?"

"Please," his girlfriend begged as Freed widened his eyes, "do not embarrass yourself."

"Mira." Laxus was heading through the shop as well, scowling at the sight of his girlfriend and the odd man embracing. "How do you know this guy?"

She grinned real big over at the approaching Laxus as the hug lasted a bit too long for the man's taste. "We," she began as they separated, "dated."

"Suddenly, I really like this little misadventure," Ever mused as she left Elfman and Freed behind to get closer to her one true love; unnecessary drama. Over her shoulder though, she did add a hissed, "Don't touch anything."

Which Elfman was all ready to follow...until he turned and saw Freed doing just that.

"She said not to touch stuff, you know," the muscular man carped as the slimmer one picked up some sort of jar filled with a blue liquid. "She's real serious about that sorta stuff."

"Have you not realized it yet, Elfman?" Freed hardly gave him a glance. "It's merely you who must follow her autocratic rule."

"Dated?" Laxus was repeating with a frown. "You dated this guy? He looks fucking fifty."

This seemed to offend the other man- Samael, as he claimed himself. Not that Laxus cared. He wanted to tell him he looked ridiculous to be the age he appeared, yet still sporting some sort of hooded robe, the shade a dark blue, nearly black, and have his face caked with some sort of white powdered makeup that Laxus wasn't sure if was to make his already pale skin paler or to hide the pretty obvious signs of aging. The worst offense was surely the dyed far too darkly hair that was poking out from beneath the hood that was thinning to the extreme.

He looked stupid.

He looked like what Bickslow would look like in a short number of years.

It was aggravating.

"Laxus," Mira complained as Evergreen had to hide her grin into the hand fan she'd produced for just such usages. "You're being rude."

"I'm being honest."

"Aren't you fifty? Yet?" Elfman called from where he was still standing in the doorway, still very fearful of that scolding he just knew was coming. "Laxus?"

"No," he growled, glaring over at the man. "I'm not."

Was he?

How long were they in that damn hyyper sleep spell thing on the island?

How old was he?

Oh gosh.

Was he forty?

"Would you two knock it off?" Mira glared over towards the door at her brother. "You're embarrassing me in front of Samael."

"That still," Freed sighed, "cannot be his real name."

"I'm embarrassing you in front of a man in a bathrobe, Mira?" Laxus asked. "Really?"

"A scared robe that I use during my most important sacred rituals, thank you." The other man, for some reason, was deluded enough to not understand why glaring at Laxus Dreyar wasn't such a grand idea. "The likes of which someone such as yourself could never wish to don."

"It has stains, literally, all over it," Evergreen observed, always one to take up for her (im)perfect idol. And, not to miss a chance to take a jab at her least favorite Strauss (though, honestly, that wasn't a hard category to lose), she made a face over at the man's girlfriend. "Oh, Mirajane, please tell me that he's just fallen on hard times."

"Samael is an...eccentric," Mira said with a glare. Then, glancing back at the man, she stammered a bit, realizing this could be seen as an insult. "I-I mean-"

"No, no, it's true." He turned from them then, of course taking the moment out to grasp part of his robe and allow it to flutter villainous behind him. "It is the tragic life story of every genius, good meaning or not. Misunderstood merely for existing. Cast aside-"

"Bickslow said you had a list?" Freed interrupted. He was still very concernedly scanning through the different potions, not so certain they worked, but still fearful of their legality. The last thing he needed for his reputation was to be busted by the government in a place that sold banned items. Not to mention they still had to spend the rest of the evening with said seith and, well, getting a double dosage of insanity was not something he was looking forward to. "One he had given you? Of things to put together for us to gather?"

His back was to the group and, for a moment, Samael just stood there, considering. Then he nodded.

"Yes. A list. From Bickslow."

As the man bent down behind the counter, Laxus moved to grab his girlfriend's arm and drag her back, just a bit, so he could bend down and whisper privately in her ear.

"Mira, what the fuck?"

"What, Laxus?" she complained as she jerked away from him. "Like you didn't know I have exes?"

"Ex- I don't care about exes!" He huffed a bit. "I care that you were dating losers like this before me. What will people think of me when they hear that your dating list consisted of the likes of a Bickslow knock off?"

"If anything, Bickslow's a knockoff Samael, considering he's been around longer."

"A lot," Ever called from where she stood as, apparently, they weren't whispering as lowly as they thought they were, "longer."

"How long do I have to stand over here all alone?" Elfman called out to the others then. "Because maybe I want to do some shopping too!"

"Forever," his girlfriend volleyed back, not wanting her chance at watching Mira and Laxus argue be dwindled away due to the man breaking something. "And ever."

"Laxus, I was young," Mira finally complained. "Young people make dumb mistakes. And obviously he wasn't fifty then."

"Great. So you were dating a forty year old creep."

"Late thirties."

"Mira-"

"Why don't we go through all of your girlfriends, Laxus? Huh?"

"This isn't about me."

"Neither was this before you made it that way."

"The list, the list, the list, the list," Samael was chanting loudly then as he dug around in a drawer behind the counter. "The l- Ah, here it is!"

"Do tell me," Freed asked as he finally glanced over, "that you have already collected the things? And were not just looking for the list?"

Instead of answering, or producing any sort of pile or box of already gathered things, the man only said, "I answer to no man! Much less a mere mortal."

"Freed's a lot more than a mere mortal, Samael," Mirajane assured him as Laxus tried hard not to just walk out, right then and there, and say fuck his stupid circle of friends. Stupid circle of idiots. Why did he even like any of these people? At all?

"If being the opposite of mortal, Mira, winds you up like him," the rune mage sighed, "then I am perfectly happy with my normal existence."

"The first thing on the list," Samael was calling loudly then as he moved to walk around the shop, "is a stone. A stone unlike any other. A stone meant to be wield by only the most competent of wizards. A stone-"

"Will that stone," Laxus grumbled out, "help us channel the dead?"

"What? No, of course not." Samael plucked a glassy blue rock from a shelf across the room from Freed. "It locates water, glowing when you are within up to five feet of it!"

"And you need it for a séance?" Ever asked, skeptical.

"No." Samael was already moving right along though. "He also has requested-"

"Why would you want a stone that only did that?" Freed was not one to be fooled. "Five feet? You should hear the rushing water!"

"Perhaps," Mira defended, "it finds puddles."

"It," Samael assured her, "does not."

"Can I move yet?" Elfman asked.

"No," came the chorus from all of the others, save the store owner, who were all equally tired of him asking.

"A deck of tarot cards," the shopkeeper was continuing. "Preferably the coolest looking ones."

"I thought those were for telling the future?" Ever asked. "Are we doing a reading? I thought we were having a séance."

"They are," Samael agreed. "And I have no idea what you people are doing. Convening with the dead, is it? Not many supplies one would need for that."

"Is anyone even sure that's what we're doing?" Freed looked to the others finally. "Did Bickslow ever explicitly state that? Because I thought all you needed were some candles for that. Surely Bickslow has candles."

"Are there candles on the list? Samael?" Mirajane asked.

"Mmmm," he hummed as he scanned over it. "Ah, yes."

'Seance candles?"

"I know no such name for an object."

"I'm convinced nothing in this damn shop has a name," Ever quipped.

"Fuck this list." The slayer was growing more and more peeved. Had he not found out that the creep in the robe had once fucked his girlfriend, he might have just stood outside and waited for the others to finish their misadventure. "We can figure out what we need. You said candles? Freed? Get the right candles and let's get out of here."

"I'm still thinking Ouija board," Evergreen told them. "Do you not summon spirits with that?"

"Yes, I was unsure of this as well," Freed added. "Bickslow acted as if those were not mutually exclusive with a séance. But are talking boards not typically what one would use?"

"Well," Mira began, "they are not mutually exclusive. Like a rectangle is always a square, but a square isn't always a rectangle. Using a Ouija board is always a séance, but a séance doesn't always require the use of an Ouija."

"I think you have that one backwards, Mirajane," her boyfriend sighed.

"Laxus, what do you know about this kind of stuff anyways?" she complained, tired of the slayer apparently. "What do you know about anything?"

"He was talking," Evergreen said with a roll of her eyes, "about the stupid squares and rectangles."

"If you people are having a séance," Samael interrupted, "then perhaps I can finally unload that stupid- I mean sell you the very high quality séance table that I have in the back-"

"There's a back to this place?" Elfman complained. "Why not make it the whole store? And make it bigger?"

"I usually don't have such...behemoths of customers," Samael explained with little tact.

"Usually when people pause, they're trying to find a nicer way to say something, you know," Freed remarked.

"This is all muscle!" Elfman insisted. "Manly muscles!"

"Ooh, a séance table, Laxus." Mirajane clapped her hands. "What are the odds?"

"What odds?" he asked. "This whole thing's fucking odd. And I'm staring to think that we actually had no reason to be here at all."

"Only starting?" Evergreen questioned.

"I have a great model that I can't unload," the store clerk was saying then. "That you would just love, Mirajane. Remember those late nights dabbling in the dark arts?"

"I'm gonna barf," Elfman informed then all. For once, Laxus agreed. "Seriously."

"He means learning spells," Mirajane complained as Freed too looked a bit sick. Ever, however, was beyond enjoying herself. "It's what we connected over."

"Oh, we believe you connected," the woman of stone remarked snidely.

"Why would Mira...love the table so much?" Freed asked slowly. "Exactly?"

"Perfect for seances," the man explained. "Circular, yes? And the top? A Ouija printed right on the surface! What a table it is."

"Soounds hideous," Ever remarked with a frown.

"No one who follows the path of such demented thoughts cares for any sort of thing," Samael complained. "We care about functionality. And it functions quite great."

"Because Ouija can be used in seances," Mira insisted. "See, Laxus? I told you."

"I never argued that. I was arguing about squares and rectangles."

"And now you're buying me a séance table."

"Mira, you're going to eat fucking breakfast on a table meant to summon the dead?" Laxus asked.

"I sure hope it's ectoplasm resistant," Freed remarked. "Else breakfast just got a lot grosser."

"What is that?" Ever asked, making a face just from the name.

"Something that only happens in possessions!" Samael made a face of his own, though it was in annoyance, fearful that Freed would hamper his sell. "Who would get possessed at a dinner table?"

"You don't know Bickslow that well, do you?" Ever asked with shake of her head.

"Well, we'll have one at the séance, I'm sure," Mirajane mused.

"Unless you use the table's Ouija board," Samael countered.

Looking up at her boyfriend, Mira said, "He makes great points."

"He makes no points. And this was all a farce." Laxus had had enough, apparently. "Bickslow sent us here for absolutely no fucking reason at all. So if we could all just hurry the fuck up and get out of this rundown shack-"

"Laxus, behave."

And that did it. Crossing his arms over his chest, the man let out a long, slow breath through his clasped lips.

All better.

"Now," Mirajane began after being sure her command had worked. "Samael, how much for the table?"

"60, 000 jewels."

"We'll take it."

That got the slayer speaking again.

"Mira-"

"Laxus I want it." Turning her eyes up to stare at the man, she gave him her best begging pose. "Please?"

Which is how they ended up finally getting out of there, the only thing bought being Mira's stupid table that Laxus and Elfman had to lug back in its box, all the way to the Strauss household.

"Oi! Boss! You're back! And with a table. Not too shabby, Mirajane."

"It's a séance table," she giggled as they found him in the house, sitting around in the living room. "I figured we could use it tonight."

"Ah, nah, we can't."

"Huh?"

Shaking his head as he didn't even move to help the others take it back into the kitchen, the seith stuck out his tongue as he said, "Our séance has to be outside."

"What?" Evergreen stomped into the house last. "So we do have to go outside?"

'Into the woods. Deep into the woods!"

"Deep," some of Bickslow's wooden babies called as the others added, "woods!"

"But Laxus spent a lot on the table." Mira kicked a bit at the ground before brightening. "Ooh, we can just start having a weekly get-together where we contact the dead! It'll be great for bonding."

"Where's my stuff?" The seith was starting to realize that no one had a sack of things for him. "Guys? Thought you went to the store for me?"

"Bickslow." Freed, who had gone into the kitchen with Laxus and Elfman to set up the table, was coming back to poke his head into the room. "None of the things on that list had anything to do with a...seance. Tarot cards? Stones? Not even candles!"

"There were candles," Bickslow defended.

"The man at the shop said they were for ritual sacrifice," Freed complained. "We went through each item on that list before we left. It was full of nonsensical things that have nothing to do with what you told us they would."

"I never told you guys that I wanted you to get me stuff for the séance." Bickslow held his head higher, still the only one seated. "I needed you to do this for me for personal reasons."

"What personal reasons?" Ever asked with a frown.

"It takes a lot out of a medium, okay?" The seith refused to look any of them in the eyes. "That's what I'mma be. Tonight. When I channel a spirit into me. For Lisanna."

"Then what the fuck," they heard a deep growl then from the kitchen, "was all that shit that you made us pick up for you meant for?"

"Boss," Bickslow started, "I'm a man of many interests. I write up lists of things, give them to my guy, he gets it all together, come back the next day with all sorts of new stuff for my house."

"Tarot cards though?" Freed was skeptical. "You can read tarots?"

"Of course not."

"Then why did you want them?"

"I'm dark soul, Freed."

"How have you never bought them before then?" Evergreen asked. "Hmmm?"

"I've bought all that stuff I put on the list before. The water stone, the cards, the candles, the gold pendant to ward off the undead-"

"Then why did you want us to go out and get it all again?" Elfman called out to him. "Huh?"

"Uh, because I'm not only a man of many dark interests." Bickslow tongue wagged a bit. "I'm also a man who misplaces things constantly!"

For a moment, the house was completely silent.

"I'm gonna kill him."

But only for a single moment.

"I'm gonna fucking kill him, Mirajane. I'm serious this time. This is it. This is the day that I strike down this whole damn town-"

"Laxus, take a breath." Mirajane was rushing in there. "And ooh, look at my new table!"

"You had better hope, Bickslow," Freed warned as Ever too rushed off to calm the slayer down, "that whatever it is that you're planning goes off without a hitch. Because you've more than pissed everyone off by this point."

"Just trust me some, huh? Everything's according to plan." Folding his hands behind his head with complete ease, he said, "All we have to do is wait till nightfall. Then you'll all see. Swear."

So the daily thing didn't happen. Had a lot going on the past few days. Still, I'm not abandoning this one. Swear.