#i would like to know whose idea it was to dress claudia in red for the wake bc that was so messycrazy of them

[claudia-lioncourt]

Daddy Lou said I had been away from people too long. I didn't know how to behave right anymore. But Uncle Les said I behaved just fine.

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea (pt 6)

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers dad and betrothed are asses.

Chapter Six: The Argument

You right yourself quickly, even if it is just to save yourself from your own embarrassment of smashing into the hull for what seems like the millionth time today. Surprisingly, the raised voices above you can still be heard. Whether that means your lock picking skills are levels higher than you guessed or the men can bicker for longer than you thought possible, you cannot be sure. But what it does mean is that with all of them occupied and all in one place, you can now move around the ship with autonomy. You take one step before stopping.

All the crew are in one place…. So could you not just lock them in? It is not the worst idea you’ve had today. And so when you step onto the deck you follow the sounds to the source of the yelling, to find all four crew members in what looks to be the captain's quarters. The heavy wooden door is held open by a piece of stone and so you hide behind the door itself and lean your way around to remain unspotted as you snatch up the stone and watch as the door slams shut.

You stand surprised that so far this has all worked before thinking of putting the stone down in front of the door itself as a meager counter weight before sliding the thick bolts into place to lock the door into the captain's quarters. You hear four versions of many different curse words as you step back to admire your work. Perhaps you weren't such a bad stowaway after all!

“Why does it lock from the outside?” You think aloud, and the triumphant smile you’d been wearing falls. Why does it lock from the outside?

“Open the door.” The captain says sternly but you make no intention to even think about moving toward the bolts.

“Perhaps- perhaps I shall open the door when we, when we…” you start off with confidence that's quickly lost.

“Not to worry, vod. Sounds like an airtight plan to me.” You’ve heard Crosshair ramble enough now to recognize his voice and if not that, you’re fairly certain now he would be the only member of crew to make such a comment.

“Here’s what's going to happen.” You tell them, you’re tired of asking, of being tame. “I’m not opening that door until I have full confidence that we are not going back to Coruscant.”

“We’re going to die in this room.”

“Crosshair, would it kill you to shut your mouth for five minutes?” That’s the voice you’ve heard the least so you assume it belongs to the captain.

“Just take me to the closest inhabited land, and you’ll never have to see me again.” You bargain.

“And get gutted by Nython, no thanks sweetheart.” He sounds like he's leaning against the door, and in your bravery you stand in front of it as well. Letting one of your hands trail over the bolts.

“He likes to lock doors from the outside as well.” You murmur to yourself, reliving the tour of his grounds given to you by one of the workers. You repeat the explanation you were given. There's a long pause and you’re thinking you’ve reached a stalemate when you hear his mysterious voice again:

“Alderaan is a few days away from us.” Chills run through you at the possibility of escape, real escape with a ship and a plan. You try to think of some way to match his offer, to convince him to take you there.

“Please…” your forehead presses against the cooler wood for comfort.

“Unlock the door.” He’s not asking this time, and with hands shaking with excitement and perhaps too much trust, you release the bolts.

The man standing in front of you is a very different one from the first time you saw him. The black tunic is loose but tucked into tactical pants that look decades too old for anybody to still be wearing them. His sleeves are rolled up and you get a glimpse of scars, and a large burn mark of a symbol you do not recognize in his inner arm. And when your eyes meet his, you properly see them for the first time. In here they look almost yellow, but you think perhaps they’re a rich light brown. The red bandana keeps longer hair out of his warm coloured face.

Suddenly you’re self conscious about your ruined dress and tousled hair. He clears his throat.

“Chart a course to Alderaan.” He orders stepping out of the small room, regarding you awkwardly.

“Nice to have ya aboard little miss!” You jump out of your skin when a hand meets your shoulder.

“Wrecker.” The captain chides, this clone is bigger than his twins and is sporting more scars than any of them evident by the large one on his face (complimented with a gnarly eye patch) and with his low cut tunic you can see the hundreds of them leading down.

“Nice to meet you Wrecker.” You say without thinking, having spent years learning poise and politeness.

“Nice to meet you as well, little miss. Over there is Tech who ya met already and that’s Crosshair who swooped ya from earlier,” you smile at Tech and Crosshair who look confused and annoyed perspectively.

“I should probably thank you for earlier.” You say to Crosshair, who huffs, and stomps out of the room with a:

“Don’t mention it.”

“Oh and of course we need to introduce you to our captain-” He starts again pointing to the man with the face tattoo.

“Wrecker get to your post.” He barks before you get his name. Wrecker gives a casual salute before taking off in the same direction Crosshair had, already yelling at his brother, something about having told him so.

“Told you we’d help.” Tech says with a smile, extending his hand. You carefully shake it, eased by his smile.

“Thank you, and I - uh, I'm sorry about the knife.” you add awkwardly watching as the captain crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t think you could have done damage with that if you tried.” Tech laughs

“She was trying.” The captain adds - not laughing. You apologize again before offering your first name only and with a final shake you let go of Tech’s hand.

“Come on Aaray.” He says “I'll show you around.” you start to correct him, wondering how someone who is clearly as smart as Tech is has managed to butcher your name so badly.

“No, no, I know.” He admits before smirking at the captain. “Hunter was just adamant that you’re an Aaray.” You catch Tech’s smile and the captain’s less serious glare, before he turns away to head out onto the bulk of the deck.

“What is an Aaray?” You ask the following Tech as he sets off.

“Mando’a. Maybe one day he’ll tell you what it means.” Tech says, seeming to enjoy being a shit disturber as much as his taller brother.

Hunter you think to yourself. It’s a nice name.

Tags: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses @loverofclones @beizm @gunsmoke-blu

@logina6 @wondergal2001 @lafy-taffy @lafy-taffy @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s

comment to be added! oxox Jessie

[agent-cupcake]

hiya i’m not sure if your requests are open but if they are could i please have them yandere prompt 7 with caspar!! i adore your work

7. “I’m trying to help! You had a problem, and I fixed it!” 

There was no name you could think to call yourself, no direct consciousness to cling to. No person living in the confines of your weightless head. There was nothing but an endlessly rolling sea of fog, your head cresting the waves every so often to grasp at a memory of a life you couldn’t remember.

You were a child, standing on the pier with your father —he was a naval engineer, the best in the Leicester Alliance— as you looked upon his newest warship. She was a beautiful creature, this ship named Claudia, everyone said so. You weren’t so sure. It was her face, you thought, her front —the bow! it was called the bow because ships always had different names for everything— was fixed with a frightening metal face. And she smiled. Not for you or your father or for the dozen others who had come to see this modern marvel. No, Claudia smiled for the enemies, for the Almyrans. Claudia, beautiful Claudia, would approach them with a scary bronze grin, Claudia would smile as she killed them. 

You were a girl, twirling in your new dress made of imported fabrics shipped in from the Empire on the eve of your first ball. You felt beautiful, weightless, ready to leave behind your childish toys and frocks and join the adults in their courtly games. But these games were dangerous, and not all smiles were honest. Makeup tears ran down your face as your mother told you —wiping the blackened tears from your cheeks so as to avoid staining the beautiful fabric of your new dress— to smile even when it hurt.

You were a woman with a face drawn and pale as you followed the evacuation orders of the ruling Duke Claude von Riegan. Imperial Troops were marching to take Derdriu. And they would win, everyone knew they would, even if all the Alliance soldiers armed themselves and formed defensive lines to keep them at bay. All of the fine naval weapons your father had spent his life creating were useless, now. No smiles, bronze or otherwise, would greet the Emperor when she conquered.  

You were a survivor, emerging from the war relatively unscathed and as a newly sworn part of the new Fódlan government under the command of Emperor Edelgard. Maybe that would have scared you, or made you go red with shame, but there was a smile that kept you from falling to those feelings. A true, warm, reckless smile. He had a name, you knew it. He had a name and a voice and warm, warm hands. 

Hands that had caught you when you fell, when you were dizzy and unstable as heavy black inkblots invaded your vision and pulled you under. What happened before the dark? What name had you called, whose hands had caught you?

You knew it! You knew, you knew, you knew-

“Caspar?” you managed to gasp out, trying to claw out of the fog and into the world using the name as an anchor. A warm, warm hand grabbed yours as you flailed, holding you still. Your eyelids fluttered, heavy and unfocused. He was blue. Blue eyes and hair, a color that was all at once soft and electric as it blurred in your vision. You could remember the color, from before the dark, before the falling. Before-

“Hey, relax, you’re okay,” he said comfortingly, his calloused thumb rubbing circles on your hand. You groaned in response, your body heavy and head fuzzy. It was too much for you to support yourself, your limbs wilting back into the seat and corner wedge of the wall. The familiar sway of a horse-drawn coach trundled beneath you. Your body ached in a thousand places from the uncomfortable position. And yet you couldn’t find the energy to move, to consider what was happening. “It’s fine if you keep sleeping, we’re not there yet.”

You groaned again, the words you wanted to say not finding cohesion in your own brain. Sleep sounded nice. Sleep was inevitable. So you let it wash over you, fading out of whatever reality you’d managed to find and into the grasp of memories unearthed by his voice. 

Now there was a new feeling, one that was very distinctly yours. It was sinking, drowning, dark, and cold. It held like chains, trapping you in the dark.

You were newly engaged and laden with the heavy weight of news you so badly didn’t want to voice aloud. Beside you sat the man with the brilliant smile. Caspar von Bergliez, that was his full name but you only ever knew him by the first because he had absolutely no regard for station and you enjoyed the thrill of ignoring propriety. He had his own heavy, horrible news.

“You’re leaving?” you asked to clarify, eyes wide with shock and panic. The salty breeze of the ocean air blew a fresh gust, bringing another wave of the familiar fishy, wooden scents from the docks, but there was no comfort in it.

“Yep, I got orders to leave tomorrow. I guess there’s some sort of dispute in Enbarr I’ve gotta go check out.” Caspar shrugged casually. “I’m not sure what it's about but it seems urgent.”

“Will you be coming back?” you asked, a hint of desperation in your voice. It was strange how quickly the terror had taken hold in your heart, considering that you knew he would have to leave eventually. But leaving now of all times, right when you needed his brilliant smile the most.

“Yeah, I have no idea,” Caspar said. “Thanks to you, I got my work here done in half the time I expected.” He smiled, as if not seeing the tragic irony of your help allowing him to leave sooner. “That’s actually why I wanted to meet with you today, ‘cause you’ve been such a big help.” He paused, uncharacteristically taking the time to consider his next words with a crease between his eyebrows. “I was wondering if maybe you could come with me... If you want to. We make a pretty great team, if I do say so myself, and I’ve been needing someone to keep me organized and stuff.”

You stared at him, jaw loose on the verge of dropping. Caspar wasn’t the type to lie, and you doubted any motive he’d have to make up something like this. Shock faded into something like anger. Not at the short notice of the invitation or the casual way he proposed it, although those were perfectly valid complaints. No, you were angry as you wondered why couldn’t he have asked you earlier?

“I can’t,” you said, but the wind caught your soft words and pulled them away. Swallowing hard, you averted your gaze, unable to look at Caspar directly. “I can’t do that. My father has... Arranged for me to be married. That’s what I wanted to tell you today.”

“What?” Caspar asked, his body tensing in a way you could feel through space between you. “You’re gonna say no, right?”

“I can’t,” you repeated. “Lord Pendleton is doing my family an honor by agreeing to the match.” You spoke the words you’d heard a hundred times from your parents with great care, a sick feeling in your stomach. Even saying the name  — soon to be your name —  was difficult, like a mouthful of medicine you had to force down your throat.

“Him? But you don’t even like that guy!” Caspar said. His voice was raised too loud for comfort in the relative peace of the breezy afternoon, making you flinch. Tears stung at the back of your eyes at this horrible arrangement of events, but you forced them back. Your mother told you to smile, no matter what. The one you mustered was a bitter, fragile thing, full of false humor.  

“That’s not the point of arranged marriages,” you said, forcing an even voice. “And I don’t dislike Lord Pendleton. By all accounts, he’s a fine man. His family has been working with mine for years. And, besides, everything has already been arranged. I can’t just break it off like that.” Not without making an enemy of both his family and your own, at least. Despite that logic, guilt formed a knot in your chest on top of the selfish pain. Denying Caspar when he was looking at you with such earnest eyes was harder than you’d have ever thought, but you raised your gaze to meet them, to plead with him. “You understand, right?”

Caspar frowned, his shoulders slumping a bit as the burst of passion faded. He nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I get it…” He sighed, running a hand over his face, into his hair. It was already tousled by the wind, but now the longer bits stuck up. It was cute in a way you absolutely loathed noticing. “If I had asked you before, would you have said yes?” he asked.

“Yes,” you agreed without hesitation. That made his frown fade a bit, although the thought didn’t bring you much solace. It was little more than an empty prize, a chest of fools gold. 

“Yeah, cause you like me way better, right?”

And again, you answered without thinking. “Of course I do. You’re… You’re a good man,” you told him. “You’re the closest friend I’ve ever had.” You deflated with those words, a hollow feeling in your chest. In contrast, Caspar’s chest only seemed to swell.

“Aw, I like you a lot, too,” he cooed, a strangely unaffected response to such a deeply personal confession. “A lot, a lot. And you know what? I have a feeling things are just gonna work out.”

Sending a sideways glance at Caspar, you felt a melancholic burst of affection. Maybe innocent was a strange word to describe a fully grown man, and perhaps an inappropriate one if you were to get right down to it. Condescending, infantilizing, and certainly unbecoming of the Minister of Military Affairs. And yet, it was the only description that came to mind in your hours with Caspar. He wasn’t innocent in the way of white flowers and doe eyes, but in an innate, childish way that gave light to his beaming smile and a captivating animation to his endlessly energetic attitude. And, yes, he was innocent when it came to women. Happily oblivious, or perhaps too distracted by everything else to be preoccupied with such things. Right then, it hurt. If he had offered marriage, perhaps you could have said yes. If he had shown any sign of romantic affection, maybe you could have justified taking his offer.

Heart sunken deep, you looked out to the ocean where clouds were building on the horizon. Not storm clouds, but the thick type that would bring a pointless oceanic gloom with them. You related to them far more than Caspar’s sweet optimism. “I hope so.”

You were a child and your father was carrying you in his arms, cradled to his chest while you pretended to sleep so he wouldn’t put you down. He smelled like the ocean, sawdust, and the achingly familiar scent of the cologne your mother liked so much. But, no. That wasn’t true, you weren’t a child and it wasn’t your father who was carrying you. Your body ached in the way it had only begun aching when you reached adulthood. The smell was wrong, too. Sweat and linen and leather.

Then there was a bed beneath you, a place you could finally lay flat. Still, the discomfort persisted, your brain relentlessly struggling against the dark and muscles falling slack. It was the thirst that finally got your eyes open and stiff body moving. The moments between wakefulness and the press of the cup to your lips was a blur, you couldn’t even remember seeing the water beside your bed. It was sweet, soothing your throat with each desperate swallow. Some of it dribbled down your chin, nearly choking you. Still weak, so weak, your fingers let the empty tin cup fell to the floor. Then your eyes closed again, ignoring the dozens of little pains you suffered. 

"Oh, so you are awake!” Your eyes opened to the familiar voice, watching him enter the tent. A tent? “That’s good,” Caspar said. “I was starting to worry you’d never open your eyes.”

“How long was I asleep?” you asked, the words coming without thought as your mind swam, too disoriented to focus on any of your larger concerns. It looked and smelled like the earliest hours of the morning when he had opened the tent, the air thin and bitter with a creeping chill.

“About twenty hours? Give or take some, yesterday was pretty hectic,” Caspar answered, looking up as he thought. Then he smiled, sitting on the edge of your bed and stretching, throwing you a sideways grin. “Did you know that you snore? I didn't know girls did that. It was pretty cute. Reminded me of this cat I used to take care of.” His tilted. “I kinda miss that little guy."

“Twenty hours,” you repeated, knowing the words had far more significance than you could give them. Fog clouded your brain, panic barely finding its way through when everything all felt so unreal, so far away. The water hadn’t done much to ease the sour, sandy flavor weighing down your tongue. Your body sagged, your head aching. Everything was so uncomfortable you could hardly stand it. Fear of the unknown, of the confusion, was beginning to take hold. “Last I remember I was… You were there?” you asked, looking at him helplessly. “What happened? Where are we?”

“Hey, don’t panic, everything’s okay!” Caspar said, looking a little panicked himself. “We’re an hour out from the old Empire border. It’ll be two days more of traveling before we get to Enbarr.” His face scrunched unhappily. “I’ll have to teach you how to ride long distances so we can make better time when we travel from now on. Traveling so slow is the worst.”

“We left Derdriu,” you said, cold with horror. Memories were slipping into place, more relevant memories. “I snuck out to see you off and... You poisoned me?”

Caspar frowned. “Believe me, I didn’t want to!” he emphatically told you. “But I was worried you’d make everything all complicated again. I knew you were gonna feel too bad about leaving to come with me without some... Help. Besides, it’s better this way. You’d be completely wasted as Lord Pendleton’s wife. He’s a chump and a coward.”

“So you kidnapped me?” you asked, overwhelmed and nearly breathless on the verge of hyperventilating.

“You said you wanted to come with me,” he said.

“It’s not that simple,” you protested, a hand rising to your head to halfheartedly massage your temples.

“See? You think too much, it makes everything so complicated. Now that you’re already gone, you don’t have to feel bad about leaving.”

“I can’t believe you did this,” you said, your eyes closing. Hunger gnawed at your stomach, a reminder of all the time you’d spent asleep, getting farther and farther away from your family.

“You like me, don’t you?” he asked. Your eyes opened. Caspar looked pleading, a tad desperate. Oh, so innocent. It made your heart ache, it made your empty stomach twist.

“Of course I do,” you said, choking on the words. He relaxed slightly.

“Yeah, that’s good. I’m glad,” he said, nodding. Awkward. 

A moment passed, Caspar looking intently at the tent wall with furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. It wasn’t enough time for you to think, only to feel a washing sense of distress and fear. 

“Listen,” he finally said. “I know that I can be kinda difficult and reckless. I’ve even been called annoying, but you don’t ever make me feel like that. I didn’t realize what I felt until you said that you were gonna get married. I realized that the idea of you with any other man made me angry. Livid, actually. I kinda wanted to leave and fight Lord Pendleton right then and there just for thinking about marrying you.” Caspar’s posture was hunched, his eyes down and cheeks blushing bright red. “This is so embarrassing... I swear, I didn’t want to do it like this.” He finally looked up, his jaw set as if he was readying for a fight. “The thing is, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, protecting you and taking care of you. I know you didn’t want to marry that guy and that you’d be miserable, so even though it didn’t make me happy to do it like this, I had to take you. You understand, right?”

"No, I don’t,” you said, your voice a pinched, parched sound. Some part of you wanted to laugh at the horrifying juxtaposition of his confession and the situation, the morbid way they complimented each other. “I don’t understand why you would do this at all.”

“I’m trying to help!” Caspar said, pleading once more. “You like me way more than that guy, you wanted to come with me!”

“Why would you think that any of this is what I wanted?” you asked, meeting his shout with a shrill whisper and gesturing around the tent. Slowly, bit by bit, Caspar’s expression faltered, as if your unhappy tone was only just now invading in on his mood. It left you feeling cold. You had always known Caspar was a bit oblivious, but this was something else entirely. He truly hadn’t given a second thought to this, any of this. He thought this was for the best.

“Please don’t be upset,” he begged, moving towards you with imploring, innocent eyes. Then he smiled, and it was the worst one yet. So genuine and sweet, you felt as if you could actually see the love. Love. Caspar smiled and reached out to you with his warm, warm hands. “You had a problem, and I fixed it!”

[ellewritesathing]

So Close  -  S.S. XLIV

Summary: The universe has a funny way of putting the things you want right in front of you, but just out of reach. Stiles and Y/N have been best friends ever since Scott brought him home, but when Stiles realizes that he might want to be something other than best friends, she leaves to go to some fancy private school up North. Now that she’s back though … maybe he’s got a shot? A Teen Wolf AU in which the reader has always been so close to Stiles and yet so far.

Masterlist   Prev. | Part 44

Word-count: 3.7k+

A/N: guys it’s super crazy to me that we’re almost at so close’s one year anniversary and i just wanted to take a second to say thank you for going on this journey with me 💕 here’s to two more seasons (maybe? i’ve heard 6b is trash so i might just skip it lmao)

Every time you and your friends defeated some evil force of nature, there was an eerie quiet that followed. This time that lull was spent cramming for finals and destressing with pack movie nights that almost always turned into sleepovers - at that point, you were spending more time at Lydia’s and Stiles’ houses than you were at your own house. As weird as it was, life felt good. 

At least, it was good until Lydia dragged you and Malia to Macy’s to find dresses for the winter formal. 

“Do I have to wear heels?” Malia asked. She was looking at herself in the mirror, paying special attention to the red heels Lydia picked out. “These are severely uncomfortable.” 

“No,” you said, at the same time that Lydia said: “Yes.”

You rolled your eyes as Lydia launched into her signature ‘it’s senior year’ speech. The first few times, it was endearing and convinced you to do it her way, but by now the effect had worn off. You zoned back in when Lydia hit the ‘it’s our last winter formal of our entire school career. Doesn’t that mean anything’ point. 

“But this is my first winter formal,” Malia said, turning away from the mirror with a frown. 

“And I’ve still got another one next year,” you said. 

“Semantics,” Lydia said with a shrug. When neither of you responded, she sighed and pulled you to your feet as she reached for Malia’s hand. “I didn’t want to play this card but I almost died this year, multiple times.” She squeezed your hand. “You did die.” She turned to Malia. “And your mom tried to kill you.” 

“What does that have to do with us wearing heels?” you asked. 

“Everything! We should be making the most of the life we have left,” Lydia said. Neither you nor Malia looked very convinced. “Okay, fine. It has nothing to do with wearing heels. I thought I could guilt you into doing things my way, but clearly, you two are made of stone, so forget it.” 

She started storming away when you laughed and grabbed her hand again. “Come on, Lyd,” you said, stifling a laugh at how annoyed she still seemed at you and Malia’s indifference to shoes. “You know that if it meant that much to you, we’d wear stilts to the formal.” 

Lydia’s pout faded slightly. She flicked her eyes over to Malia. “Really?” 

“Really,” Malia repeated. After a touching second of comradery, she added, “But, to be clear, these shoes are as far as I’m willing to go.” 

Lydia had an evil look in her eye. The kind of evil that she only got when she received free reign over everyone’s outfits. You’d bet she’d already picked out suits for the guys, judging by the look in her eye when she said, “Deal!” 

---

You loved Lydia, more than almost anyone else in the entire world, but if she patted you with blush one more time then you were going to snap. She was your best friend, you reminded yourself. She knew what she was doing. She taught you how to walk in heels so, of course, you wouldn’t fall. You loved Lydia. 

Lydia patted your nose with a dash of highlight and smiled. “There. You were gorgeous before but now-” 

“Now they can see me from space?” you asked. 

Malia stifled a laugh from the bed while Lydia tried to bite her tongue. “If that’s how you want to look at it,” Lydia said as she packed up her brushes. Malia had managed to escape. “What time are the guys supposed to be here?” 

“I changed the time on Stiles’ phone forward an hour to make sure he wouldn’t be late,” Malia said. 

You frowned and twisted around in your seat to look at her. “Wait, but I put an alarm on all Scott’s clocks to go off at every fifteen-minute interval.”

“So you’re saying they don’t know what time it is, they're wasting more time by arguing over whose time is right, and delayed by constant alarm bells?” Lydia asked. You and Malia looked at one another awkwardly for a moment. Lydia let out a sigh and grabbed her keys off the vanity. “Let’s go pick them up.” 

“I call shotgun!” Malia said as she got to her feet. 

“No way!” You caught her arm, partly for stability and partly to stop her from barreling into the passenger’s seat. “You’re in a suit. I’m in a dress.” 

“So?” 

“So, you can slide into the back,” you said. 

“Ladies-” Lydia cut in before Malia could call your argument stupid, but you knew she was thinking it. “Neither of you are riding shotgun if I leave without you.” 

With a final look at one another, you and Malia followed behind Lydia and piled into the car. You’d already found something new and equally dumb to talk about within a few minutes as Lydia drove. 

She was surprisingly calm, considering what happened at the last dance she went to, and it clicked that maybe that’s why she planned out every last detail of this night. Your heart ached for her but you spotted a broken down Jeep on the side of the road and your attention drifted. 

Malia turned the radio before rolling down her window as Lydia pulled over. Scott and Stiles didn’t even notice you guys at first because they were too busy arguing over the alarm that wouldn’t shut up. 

“I’ve heard if you show some skin then you’re more likely to get a ride,” Malia called out to them when she got bored of their bickering. Honestly, you wanted to hear more about the fourteenth way that Stiles was going to dispose of the alarm, but you got why she cut to the chase. 

Stiles’s heart didn’t skip a beat; not even a second later and he was rolling up his pant leg. “This enough or should I ditch the tie and a couple of buttons?” 

None of you bothered to hide your laughs or rolling eyes as he broke into a very clumsy dance. You pushed open your door as Stiles started shimmying off his jacket. 

“Hey, do you want to get it before you lose your pants, or have we changed our minds about the formal?” you asked, a silly smile still plastered on your face. 

Stiles froze when he saw you, jacket around his elbows and mouth slightly open. His hair was slightly messed up in the wind, face lit up by the light of the passing cars and setting sun. You wished you could have frozen this moment, this version of him where he was so carefree and happy. 

Lydia was the one who snapped you out of it. “Oh, my god. Are you two going to stare at each other like that the whole night?” she asked. 

You gave a nervous laugh and slid into the middle. “Come on. We can call Noah to pick up the Jeep.”

Scott hit Stiles’ arm and then they packed into the seats next to you. It was awkwardly quiet but then Malia turned the music back up and Lydia asked about Liam, and everything was back to normal. Not quite the frozen moment you replayed in your head, but happy. The happiest any of you had been in a while. 

Stiles was unusually quiet on the way to the school, though he did bounce his leg and bite at his nails. In a winning move to make you feel nervous, he stared out the window the entire time and only snapped out of it to open his door after Lydia parked. He held the door open for you after he got out. 

You mumbled a thank you, feeling awkward as you teetered out of the car in Lydia’s heels. Now that you were at school and looking at all the cheesy decorations, you felt a little sick. And then Stiles touched your hand. 

“Hey, look, I wanna apologize for being so weird,” he said. “You just, uh- you look good. Like really good. And I’m so bad at these things. So, uh, I’m sorry for being weird.” Stiles took a deep breath and rolled his wrists to motion toward you. “Okay, you talk now.” 

You laughed and took his hands in yours. This night felt like when you’d first come back and you were both annoying everyone by hiding your feelings from one another. “You had me worried there for a second. I thought the dress might have scared you off.” 

“Oh, no. The dress definitely did not scare me off,” Stiles said with a nervous laugh. “Did I mention you look really good yet?” 

“No, I don’t think you did,” you hummed. You lifted his hand to your mouth and kissed it. He stared at your hand as you let it fall to your side again. “Why are you looking at me like that again?” 

Stiles had that look in his eyes from the moment frozen in time on the side of the road. He was happy, if a little disbelieving and preoccupied. “You’re wearing the ring. Did something happen to the chain? Did it break?” 

“No, the necklace is perfect,” you said quickly. He put your hand over his to get a better look at his mom’s old ring. You could still remember the day the two of you stole it; Claudia was so mad but Noah thought it was hilarious. Your voice softened at the memory. “I didn’t think it would fit but it was so big on me back then. Lydia was the one who pointed out that if it was your mom’s then it should fit now that I’m not eight years old.” 

“Always full of ideas, that one,” Stiles mumbled as he looked at the ring. He ran his thumb over it carefully.  

You smiled, looking at him instead of the ring. This would be another moment you’d keep forever if you could. Instead of saying something so incredibly cheesy, you said, “Yeah, and Malia was the one that pointed out that if it got stuck, she could cut my finger off and Deaton could stitch it back up.”

Stiles laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like her.” In a quick move, he turned your hand over in his and interlaced your fingers. He shot a glance at the school. “Alright, let’s get this over and done with.” 

“That’s the spirit, babe.”

You held onto Stiles a little tighter than usual, partly due to the heels and icy ground and partly just because you could. Once you got inside, he tightened his grip as yours loosened. You guessed it was partly due to the people and the noise and partly just because he could. 

It took a minute before you found your friends scattered around the gym. Liam and Hayden were awkwardly dancing under the disco ball. Corey was counting how many pixie stix Mason could fit in his mouth at once. Lydia was talking to (or rejecting, hard to tell at that distance) one of the guys from the lacrosse team. Lastly, Scott and Malia were against a wall, drinking punch, and talking softly.

Actually, the last thing you noticed was the photo-booth in the corner. You gave Stiles a mischievous smile and tugged on his arm.

“No way.”

“We’re already here! And you look so nice in your suit.” 

“A photo-booth is where I draw the line. I’ll do dances. I’ll let Lydia do my eyebrows again. I’ll crawl over broken glass for you. I’d even eat cilantro for you. But there is no way we’re doing the photobooth.” 

“Well, I don’t see any broken glass or cilantro, so photo-booth it is.” 

Stiles groaned but followed after you anyway. As a result, he was pouting and pretending to be grumpy in the first set of photos and you were lovingly harassing him. It was only in the second last photo that he broke his composure and started laughing. In the very last one, he kissed you. 

The next set of photos were just of the two of you kissing. The third set was the best; both of you were laughing and playing around. And then Lydia tracked you down, bringing Scott and Malia with her. Those photos with all of you crammed in the booth were hilarious, but not nearly as funny as when Liam, Mason, Hayden, and Corey tried to shove their way in and Coach banned you all from using the photo-booth. 

You turned to the dancefloor in a laughing heap. Malia was by far the best dancer (Stiles was arguably the worst, though Liam gave him a run for his money), and she took turns dancing and jumping around with each of you. Liam twirled you around a few times until you tripped over your heels, he caught you, and Stiles told him to keep his dirty little werewolf hands to himself. Liam pressed an impulsive kiss to your cheek before disappearing into the crowd with Hayden before Stiles punched him. It was nothing but dumb, teenage fun. 

And then a slow song started playing. 

Bits of your group broke off to get punch or find a dance partner, and soon it was just you and Stiles. He dropped his eyes for a second before taking a step closer and holding out a hand to you. You tilted your head at him. 

“Typically, when one goes to a winter formal one dances with their date,” Stiles said. 

“Does one?” 

Stiles had a barely contained smile on his face. “One does. How the dance is initiated varies on formal to formal basis, but generally once initiated, the invitee and the inviter dance.” 

“Wait. Aren’t the invitee and inviter the same person?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. “Should I go so you can pull a Billy Idol and dance with yourself?”

“Oh my god, would you just shut up and dance with me?” Stiles asked, shaking around the hand he offered you. 

You grinned and took his hand in yours, placing your other hand on his shoulder. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes but it faded away to a reluctant smile after a few seconds. Neither of you knew exactly how to dance, so you just swayed together. Fairly far apart at first, but you moved closer and closer together as the song went on. Eventually, the song ended and your head was tucked into the crook of Stiles’ neck, with your hands on his shoulder blades and under his jacket to keep warm. 

The songs were cheesy and the decorations were cliche. This night was everything you and Stiles liked to make fun of, and yet … there the two of you were, slow dancing to fast songs and smiling like idiots. 

You kissed the spot on his neck just below his jaw and rested your chin on his shoulder to whisper in his ear. “Hey, thank you for this.” 

“Of course,” Stiles said. “Besides, it’s not like there was any broken glass or cilantro around.” 

“Shut up.” You laughed and pulled away slightly. He was amused when you looked at him, and you fell a little bit more in love with him when you saw his smile under the purple LED lights. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

Stiles tilted his head. “And go where?” 

“Anywhere you want,” you said with a shrug. 

“You just want to take advantage of me in my post-dance haze,” Stiles teased. 

“Of course. Have you seen you in that suit?” 

Stiles got flustered and started sputtering a response as you laughed and untangled yourself from him. You promised to meet him outside as soon as you told Scott you were leaving. He wasn’t too surprised by the fact that you guys were ducking out early, but Malia made a joke that wiped the teasing smile straight off his face. You left them bickering with one another and left to find Stiles. 

Though the music was still loud enough for you to hear once you were outside, it faded as the gym doors closed behind you. You didn’t realize how much you’d needed the quiet until you were out in the cold, with the fresh air stinging your lungs and waking you up. 

Stiles was waiting just outside the gym for you, talking to his dad on the phone. Apparently, he’d replaced the Jeep’s flat tire and gotten Parrish to drop it off at the school. Noah had just stopped talking about the formal and started talking about proper driving safety when you wrapped your arms around Stiles' waist. 

Noah started berating him not paying attention when Stiles burst out laughing. He sputtered out an apology while you did everything in your power to keep him laughing and awkward. When Noah got grumpy and hung up, you laughed and he turned to glare at you … which only made you laugh harder. 

“You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?” Stiles asked. He was trying very valiantly to pretend to be mad at you, but his mouth was turned up at the corner, giving him away. 

“Oh yeah?” You leaned in closer and whispered, “Then stop holding my hand.”

“No way in hell,” Stiles said, managing to pull you in even closer. You laughed and stumbled into him. The two of you shuffled to the Jeep without letting go of each other, laughing and stubbornly refusing to let go of each other. 

Even as Stiles drove, you held his hand and harassed him from the passenger seat. You were feeling something you hadn’t felt in a long time; the feeling was light and airy. Happiness, you thought. 

Looking at Stiles in the light of the diner’s parking lot, you didn’t just think it was happiness - you knew it was. A sneaky little dark feeling in your heart told you that you’d never feel as happy as you did again. It didn’t matter though, you were so used to being sad that you could tune it out. 

Or at least, you thought you could. 

It was more difficult to tune out the sadness once you were inside. Stiles was rambling on about everyone at the formal and how glad he was that he never had to go to another high school dance. He meant well, but all it did was remind you that he would be leaving in a few months. 

“Hey, what’s with the look?” Stiles asked, pushing his empty plate to the side. 

“I don’t have a look,” you said defensively. 

“You totally have a look and you’re looking at me with your look right now,” Stiles said. He paused and tilted his head, but tried again. “Okay, now you look confused but still. What’s wrong?” 

You sighed and shook your head, moving your glass out of the way so you could lean your elbows on the table. With your head resting in your hands, you sighed. “This is your last high school dance.” 

“Yeah, so?” Stiles asked. He reached his hands across the table but they were still too far away to hold yours unless you moved. 

“I’ve still got a year of them,” you said, looking up from his hands to meet his eyes and shrugging. “That’s all.” 

“Oh, God,” Stiles groaned. He pulled his hand back to cover his face with them. “I’ve been a total ass this whole night. I’m so sorry.” 

“Hey, that’s not what I meant,” you said, reaching across the table to grab his hands. “I know you’re just excited to graduate, and I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I’m just a little bummed that you’re all moving on and I’m still staying here.” 

“You shouldn’t have to be bummed,” Stiles said. He moved his hands around to hold yours and gave you an encouraging smile. “How long have you felt this way?” 

“Since you and Scott started elementary school and I was in kindergarten.” You laughed at your own joke but Stiles was still looking at you with a concerned look on his face. It was sweet. You ran your thumb across the outside of his hand. “I don’t know … since you started working on the big plan post-graduation and I realized I wasn’t graduating.” 

“Seriously? That was months ago,” Stiles said, moving closer. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

You shrugged. “You were excited. I didn’t want to ruin it.” 

“You could never ruin anything,” Stiles said. He squeezed your hands and leaned over to kiss you. 

You smiled at him, lifting a hand to his cheek. Without thinking, you blurted out, “You promise you won’t go to college and forget about me? Trade me in for some weirdly flexible dance major?”

“I will never, ever forget about you,” Stiles promised. “Alright? No matter what. No matter how many dance majors come my way.” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too. Hand me your purse?” 

Despite your confusion at the sudden change of pace, you put your purse on the table as Stiles slumped into his seat and dug his wallet out of his pocket. He started looking through your purse without explaining what he was looking for. Eventually, Stiles took out the strip of photos with the two of you, tore it in half, and shushed your protests. He tucked one half in front of his driver’s license. 

“There. Now I’ll look at you whenever I open my wallet or get pulled over. Which, uh, you should know I get pulled over a lot.” Stiles laughed under his breath and tucked away his wallet again. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly. 

You were going to lean across the table to kiss him when Liam barrelled into you as he scooted into your booth. Stiles was in the process of biting his head off when Scott slid in. And then Lydia. And Malia. And then Mason, Corey, and Hayden stole some chairs from nearby tables and huddled around the table. 

“What? You guys didn’t think you were eating without us?” Liam asked. 

You rolled your eyes and messed up his hair. “Of course not, biscuit. I could never get rid of you.” 

“Yeah, you’re like gum under my shoe,” Stiles mumbled. 

He and Liam started bickering and you laughed. There was that light, airy feeling again. As long as you had your friends, it didn’t matter where you all ended up. 

You’d love each other all the same, even from a phone call away. 

Tagged: @ietss​  @used-avocado​

[revisitingstoneybrook]

#15 Little Miss Stoneybrook...and Dawn: Chapter 6

Dawn meets with Claire and Margo and tries to make chicken salad out of chicken shit. Also one image in here is NSFW!

We're told Mr. Pike is at work and Mrs. Pike is volunteering for something at the library. Dawn's second babysitter is Mallory. I'm sure she can hardly contain her excitement. The triplets are also staying at SES for after-school sports...an elementary school has a sports program? And Nicky's left alone in a house of girls, so I'm sure he can also hardly contain his excitement.

Dawn is greeted by the two youngest Pikes. Claire is still doing her “silly-billy-goo-goo” thing. Are we sure she's five and not three? I think one night, Claire and Gabbie Perkins switched personalities and since the parents are hardly ever around, no one noticed.

Anyway, Claire and Margo are bouncing off the walls about the pageant, or as Dawn's dad would say, “wound up tighter than ticks.” I think Watson the Millionaire also used that line once to describe the demon spawn Karen.

In a very awkward move, Dawn sort of apologizes to Mallory for helping her sisters out with the pageant. Mallory is like, “Uh...it's ok, it's your job,” and keeps her distance. She suggests Dawn start out by helping the two girls pick out their clothes, as Mrs. Pike got info about the pageant, including what outfits they need. Claire and Margo think “outfits” translates to bathing suits, like what the Miss America contestants wear on TV. Mallory tells them there's no swimsuit competition in the pageant (ew, imagine if there was) but they ignore her and run upstairs to their bedroom.

Dawn follows them and finds Claire and Margo "peeling off their clothes," which makes it sound like they're all sweaty for some reason. Ew. Margo grabs her bathing suit and we have an outfit description! “On the front was a giant alligator, its mouth open in a grin full of big triangular felt teeth.” I'm sure Claudia will find a way to get the same thing on the back of a denim jacket or as a pattern on a jumpsuit.

Margo says she's wearing a bathing suit to the pageant, Dawn tells her no and to decide on a fancy dress to wear for the parade, like something they'd wear to a birthday party. Claire responds, "But I don't wear sparkly dresses to birthday parties or church. The ladies on TV wear sparkles. Or fur. I need to do that too!" I'm surprised Dawn didn't jump on her soapbox right there and start a "Fur is murder" rant.

Dawn tells them to get dressed and think about what kind of talents they want to rehearse. Dawn first tries the play an instrument route; Claire says she can play the kazoo and Margo says Jordan taught her how to play Chopsticks on the piano. So Dawn then asks if they know how to dance; Claire twirls around a bit and of course, falls down. Singing? Margo sings a dumb Rudolph parody that goes, “Rudolph the red knows rain, dear.” Dawn also observes that Margo can't carry a tune in a bucket. You may think she’s getting judgmental but she has to pull out all the stops so she can show what an amazing babysitter she is!

Claire then sings her Popeye song: “I'm Popeye the sailor man, I live in a garbage can, I eat all the worms and spit out the germs, I'm Popeye the sailor man!” Dawn, of course, doesn't like it and tries suggesting other songs but Claire is stubborn and says that's what she wants to do. Dawn makes a mental note to get her a little sailor suit to try and up the cute factor while she sings about eating worms.

But what to do with Margo, who's almost as hopeless as Mallory? Dawn needs a good idea so she can upstage Kristy and show what an amazing babysitter she is goddammit! She suggests recitation as a last resort and hopes Margo will pick a long poem like “The Owl and the Pussycat.” Margo instead chooses the nursery rhyme “The House that Jack Built.” However, Margo thinks just reciting isn't enough and gets an idea and runs off. Dawn asks Claire what it is and Claire guesses “the banana trick.” Dawn gets squicked out by this and it leaves the reader wondering if Margo's seen Madonna’s Truth or Dare one too many times.

Margo returns with a banana, sits on the floor, but doesn't pull a Madonna and instead peels the banana with her feet and recites the poem while eating it.

By this time, Dawn's ready to *headwall* and then she hears Claire and Margo argue over whose talent is better. Dawn then realizes: Oh shit, they're competing against each other! What if one wins? Then they'll never hear the end of it! Then Dawn, showing no faith in her charges, says, “There wasn't much chance that either girl would win - not with banana peeling and rude Popeye songs.” Geez, work with what you have, Dawn!

A lesson at curtsying also doesn't go anywhere. Margo tips over and Claire goes down too low and can't get up. Dawn then tries poise by balancing books on their heads while they walk. Both girls ham it up and while Margo keeps the book on her head, Claire shakes her hips back and forth and the book falls off. Dawn's losing her patience and Mallory appears to give her a “Told you so!”

Both girls perform for Mallory and Margo has to do her's without a banana because Dawn doesn't want her to spoil her dinner. How do you peel a banana without using a banana? Do you mime it? Dawn concludes as she goes home that Claire and Margo are not pageant material. Now let's go see some real pageant material!

[pellicano-sanguino]

Today I went to see a play that’s based on the Little Vampire books by Angela Sommer-Bodenburg. I know, it’s embarrassing for an adult to go see a play for children, but I have a strong nostalgic connection to these books. They introduced me to the concept of vampires and got me hooked on the genre. So, here are some random thoughts about the play.

I should probably say a word or two about the books first. The first book came out during the 80s and after re-reading it a while ago, I must admit some parts of it haven’t aged that well (also, I’m no longer the intended target audience). I will give Sommer-Bodenburg credit for not watering down her vampires into child friendly versions. There are a lot of childrens’ vampire fiction where they clearly just wanted the aesthetics of vampires, not the actual brutal reality of vampirism like blood drinking and, you know, the whole being undead thing. Angela Sommer-Bodenburg doesn’t pussyfoot around the creepier aspects of vampire culture. Her vampires drink blood (except Anna, who hasn’t grown her fangs yet), and they talk about their deaths quite frankly and openly, including that they were turned by their own family members. 

The basic premise is a small boy named Anton befriending some vampire children and them trying to hang out with each other while keeping it secret from each other’s families. The play is based on the first book of the series and I think it’s a pretty decent and quite faithful adaptation. They’ve changed some things, but not much and the plot follows the book accurately.

Not gonna lie, the actor playing Anton was really wooden and fake, like a cardboard cutout. That’s the problem of having grown adults play small children. I know theater is all about suspending your disbelief (like in Takarazuka, believing that the clearly female otokoyaku are in fact male on the stage), but somehow I just have trouble buying Anton’s performance. Doesn’t help that he speaks in a very formal version of Finnish that no child speaks in real life. He tries so hard to make his voice and body language appear childlike, but it’s just not working. 

Rydiger on the other hand is fantastic. He’s quite different than the Rydiger from the books, but I don’t mind. In the books, Rydiger was my least favourite of the vampire children but here he is the best one of them and the best actor in the whole play. Instead of being a bratty, insufferable gremlin, he has elegant mannerisms, pleasant voice and he’s the most reasonable and caring of the vampire siblings. It’s not book accurate, but I approve. I especially like how this Rydiger talks and uses his body language. Unlike Anton, who shouldn’t be speaking in formal Finnish, Rydiger was raised over a hundred years ago and so was taught different kinds of speech and manners. He really comes off like a creature from another time. I love his little hand gestures, and his costume is so stylish and much more nice looking than the ragged gremlin-Rydiger from the books. Despite his adult-like mannerisms, Rydiger still acts like a child, much more accurately than Anton.

I fail to see what this cooler version of Rydiger sees in the boring, wooden block that is Anton. I totally see what Anton sees in Rydiger, who wouldn’t want a stylish little vampire friend. In the books I criticized Anton’s reasons for keeping up his friendship with Rydiger. In the books, Rydiger was a rude little shit, constantly making fun of Anton, stealing his books and being generally a real jerk. I thought, that if Rydiger wasn’t a vampire, Anton would never put up with such a lousy friend. Anton only tolerated Rydiger’s bullshit because he was a vampire and having a vampire friend was cool. Kids, don’t keep up friendships with people just because you like what they are, the more important thing is who they are. Anyway, in the play I can more easily buy their friendship (yes, Rydiger gets his moments of being a jerkface, but not nearly as badly as in the books). The scene where Rydiger teaches Anton how to fly was very adorable. And because the child characters were being played by grown adults, also kinda...  romantic?

“I’m flying, Jack! I’m flying!”

Anton’s parents were your token Normal People (TM) of the show. Both in the play and in the book they make fun of Anton’s interest in vampires, especially his mother (I swear, Angela Sommer-Bodenburg must have had some mother issues). It’s very sad to see parents mock the interests of their child. I know the feeling, it’s one of the reasons I always place the books I read down cover first so that no one can read the cover and call me stupid for liking a book like that. I’m so conditioned to do this, I do it even when I’m all alone at home. Do not mock your childrens’ interests, people, it will have long lasting effects. 

For whatever reason they changed Geiermeier the vampire hunter’s name to...  I don’t quite remember, Kalmankulma or something similar. Anton’s surname was changed to a Finnish name too, and they’ve updated the story to modern times, since they talk about euros instead of marks. But Anton’s family still has a corded phone, and Anna could call them from a phone booth. It’s weird they updated some parts but also kept some things that have become obsolete tech since the 80s. 

Man, did they fuck up Anna. I hated the look they gave her. What is up with that white, poofy hair, she looks like an old granny, not a five or six year old little girl. And why is her dress so short, we do not need to see her legs all the way up. Ugh, and how they failed with her character. Everything good that I said about Rydiger they must have cut off from book-Anna. In the book, Anna is the kindest, smartest and most humane of all the vampire children. The boys are selfish assholes who treat Anton like a fun toy, but Anna actually genuinely cares about the feelings of their human friend. She is also a strong independent young lady who has a fiery temper and will not tolerate any sass from her mean spirited brothers. Her only downside is that she’s a victim of a really annoying childrens’ book trope, namely that whenever there’s another female character around she becomes jealous of Anton and is unnecessarily rude to the other girls. I get it, kids can be bratty and jealous, but can we please stop teaching little girls the stupid lie that all girls are each others’ enemies and must fight for the attention of boys. For fuck’s sake, let girls be friends with each other, thinking they can only be friends with boys is ridiculous and misogynistic!

Well, Anna of the play is not smart, caring or strong (unless you count annoying, noisy hissy fits as strength, I guess). She has turned into a brainless diva, who simultaneously is smitten by Anton and also doesn’t care what he has to say about anything. Why would you do this to my favourite character!? In the books there were some really heartfelt scenes between Anna and Anton. Like, when Anna proposes the idea that when she gets her fangs she could bite Anton and turn him so that they could be friends forever, and Anton makes it very clear that he has no intention of ever becoming a vampire. This saddens Anna, because it means that Anton will grow to be an adult but Anna and her siblings will forever remain children, with no one to play with. These two must come to an understanding that while they like each other very much, they belong in two different worlds and they must accept that it means they will one day have to say goodbye. All things come to an end, it’s only a matter of when and how. So, why wasn’t a meaningful scene like that in the play?

Finally, we have Lumpi (whose name was changed to Leo in the play). I think he was fine, maybe suffering from a tiny bit of overacting, but still an ok performance. He doesn’t get much screentime, because in the first book we don’t get to see him much. Which is a shame because he is my favourite right after Anna. 

If you thought Claudia from Interview with the Vampire was the most tragic of all child vampires, then clearly, you have not met Lumpi von Schlotterstein. He was turned right in the middle of going through puberty. And so, he is doomed for all eternity to suffer from acne, breaking voice and mood swings. Truly, a lamentable fate is his.

Adding Lumpi to the vampire children friending Anton added a lot of dramatic tension to the group. Because of his mood swings, Lumpi was unpredictable and sometimes even downright threatening. Out of all the vampire kids, he had the least control over his vampire instincts and there were several moments where he considered drinking Anton. So scenes with him could be really intense. Also, he was supposed to be the vain kid with style, being especially proud of his long, sharp fingernails that he cared and filed constantly. They took his style and gave it to Rydiger, they took his vanity and gave it to Anna. Well, he still had a nice, red shirt that went well together with his white scarf and black cape.

Rydiger’s grandmother Sabine also makes an appearance. Strange that they added Sabine and not aunt Dorothee, who was the most dangerous, most blood thirsty of all the von Schlotterstein vampires. In the books Dorothee is the one the kids need to look out for whenever Anton’s visiting their home in the graveyard. There’s a scene where Anton has to hide in Rydiger’s coffin because of her and in the play they do the scene with Sabine. Well, maybe they thought any old vampire lady will do. Also they clearly wanted her to be more comedic relief character, not a threatening, blood drinking monster. Just like Dorothee in the book, Sabine commands Rydiger to go back to sleep and he has to cram himself into his coffin with Anton still there. Once Sabine’s gone, the boys get out and sigh in relief, and Lumpi comments “Well, did you take advantage of the opportunity, brother?” Look, I know he means blood drinking, but these kids being played by adults I can’t help but think about gay vampires sharing a coffin. Doesn’t help that Rydiger replies with a disgusted “Of course not! I’m not like you!” Which enrages Lumpi, because “W-w-what are you implying!?” I’m sorry, my mind is in the gutter, but I can’t help it. Carmilla and Anne Rice have made me see lesbian and gay vampires everywhere.

Well, for a small budget childrens’ play, it was a fun show. Wished they hadn’t changed some of the characters so drastically, but overall it was pretty book accurate, which was a relief (I was worried they were going to make a story of their own and just use the characters’ names, like that awful movie version). A nice nostalgic visit back to the first vampire books I ever read.

[ofindcmitability]

📖 + CAMP CAMP

You know I was about to do my other memes but I saw this one and said FUCK IT. 

so will ofc is max. bad attitude, trouble maker, perpetually angry and hating everyone, and parental neglect. 

Will: Ghosts don’t exist. You die, and then you’re faced with eternal nothingness. Its gonna be great.

wyatt is david ofc, he’s the head honcho and always trying so dam hard. he’s also a bit wackey but loves all his kids very much. | @nocttrls

Lizzie: Claudia, whys Wyatt dressed like a turkey?Claudia: Because its fucking Wyatt, Lizzie, you've known him long enough to figure that out.

landon is neal. the best friend whose smart and nerdy but also willing to fight a bitch. / @frcmashes

*Will finds a mysterious trail of eggs*Landon: Guys, don't mess with it. It's probably something that will trigger a series of events that will on the whole be an interesting and comedic adventure, but will ultimately waste our Saturday.Hope: Landon is right, Will. Let's leave it alone.(Will’s gone)Landon: God. Damnit.

claudia is gwen. nuff said. / @hardts

Will: Claudia’s the fucking worst! She slacks off, reads garbage, and has no idea what she's doing with her life!Claudia: What?Will : There's no time-traveling doctor coming to save you, Gwen! Get your shit together!Claudia: I just want to have his British babies! [runs off crying]

i think hope is nikki??? not a perfect fit but someone who goes after adventure and stuff close enough. / @chosenlonely

Will: Why would you help us?Hope: I'm an agent of chaos.

MAX IS NERF / @sitacross

Wyatt: Max, we feel as though you have a relatively strong grasp on the events that have led to your negative behavior, and we wanted to walk through them with you together in the hopes of finding a solution. This isn't going to be easy, but we think- PUT THE KNIFE DOWN![cut to Max holding someone knife-point]

nicole is space kid bc i say so | @ofsorrxws

Wyatt: Height?Nicole: (holds hand up to head) This many.Wyatt: Weight?Nicole: (holds hands up around his waist) This many.Wyatt: Blood-type?Nicole: Red!Wyatt: Gender?Nicole: Human!Wyatt: Race?Sora: We have to beat Jack!Wyatt: That's the spirit!

kai as quartermaster bc why not? he’s a crazy so / @prisonwrld

Kai: I have given you nothing to revere. I will betray you all when the opportunity arises.Wyatt: Quartermaster, to try and show you just how much I care about you—Kai: You'll be first.

EXTRA:

Wyatt: Gosh darn it, you're right, Claudia! Today's the day I get hard!Claudia: Okay, maybe we don't phrase it like that.Wyatt: Oh no! Rule one, "No Backing Down!" Look out world, I'm hard and I'm coming! Whether he likes it or not, Max’s gonna let me in! [kicks door open, then rubs foot] Owie.Will: ...So does he want to help Maxor fuck him?

[acsversace-news]

For months during the filming of American Crime Story, Ricky Martin found himself back in the closet—this time playing Antonio D’Amico, the longtime lover of the late Gianni Versace. In the pilot episode of the FX series, a detective with the Miami Police Department interrogates D’Amico after the designer is murdered. Unsure what D’Amico means when he refers to Versace as his “partner,” he questions the nature of their relationship, invoking the young men D’Amico would procure for him, some of them duly compensated, and asking, “Did he pay you?”

“To love him?” responds D’Amico, still covered in the blood of his boyfriend of 15 years, though he seems more wounded by the detective’s callous assertion—the idea that two men could ever be in a committed relationship is completely foreign to him. Yet the moment illustrates one of the overarching themes of the second installment of American Crime Story, based on Maureen Orth’s 1999 book Vulgar Favors, and adapted by British author Tom Rob Smith. Just as The People v. OJ Simpson before it offered an all-too-timely commentary on racism, The Assassination of Gianni Versace promises to tackle issues like homophobia, gun violence, and the dark allure of fame.

“I believe that the story of injustice this series will bring to the table will spark a lot of conversations about things that we, as the LGBTQ community, were dealing with in the ’90s, and that we’re still dealing with,” says Martin, though he shies away from revealing too many details about The Assassination. “At this point in our lives, there shouldn’t be stigmas over the things that we are going to be talking about.”

The show, another jewel in showrunner and creator Ryan Murphy’s television crown, will examine the lives of two gay men and their radically different paths: Gianni Versace (played by Édgar Ramirez)—the Italian designer who injected the world of fashion with a wild dose of ostentation, sensuality, and celebrity glamour—and Andrew Cunanan (Glee's Darren Criss), the 27-year-old Versace fanboy who left a trail of death and devastation in his quest for fame, ultimately finding it, and landing on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted list, by murdering the man he so idolized.

Cunanan was born in National City, Calif., on August 31, 1969, to a mostly absent, class-conscious Filipino-American father and a deeply religious Italian-American mother. He was a brilliant child with a reported IQ of 147. Growing up in a strict Catholic household, he struggled with his sexuality from a young age, so that later in life he was open to some, but closeted to others. He also had a reputation for being a pathological liar. After dropping out of the University of California, San Diego, he tried his hand at hustling, drug dealing, and petty robbery—anything to avoid a traditional nine-to-five. He charmed his way into a meeting with Versace on the evening of October 21, 1990, in San Francisco. Versace had designed the costumes for Richard Strauss’s opera Capriccio and was in town for the premiere. It was a brief encounter—Orth dedicates just three pages to it in Vulgar Favors—but for Cunanan, it was significant. Versace was the only celebrity he claimed to know with whom he had any ties, no matter how tenuous. According to Orth, when the FBI asked Philip Merrill, a friend of Cunanan’s, where the wanted murderer would go and whom he would try to contact, Merrill said: Florida and Versace.

By the time Cunanan gunned down the 50-year-old designer on the steps of his palatial estate, Casa Casuarina at 1116 Ocean Drive in South Beach, Miami, on the morning of July 15, 1997, he had already killed four men, including Jeff Trail, a 28-year-old Navy veteran, and David Madson, a 33-year-old architect, three months earlier in Minneapolis—both men were gay and at least one of them, Madson, was a former lover. But the nation didn’t take any real notice until Cunanan had traversed thousands of miles over several months. By then, Versace was dead.

“The whole city of Miami was in shock and never recovered,” says Martin, who was living in Miami but touring Europe at the time of Versace’s death. “Obviously what was happening in fashion was massive, but there was also what was happening in the film industry, with all these great actors moving to Miami because it was the Riviera of the United States. After Versace’s death, everything stuck because everybody was afraid. It has taken many, many, many years for Miami to return to where it was and maybe it will never be the same.”

On July 7, eight days before Versace’s murder, Cunanan visited the Cash on the Beach pawn shop to sell a gold coin he had stolen from his third victim, Lee Miglin, a 72-year-old married real estate developer he had killed and tortured on May 4 in Chicago, which eventually led to the FBI adding Cunanan to its infamous fugitives list. As required by the pawn shop, the serial killer had signed his name—his real name—and had even given the address where he was staying. Vivian Olivia, the owner of Cash on the Beach, turned over the identifying paperwork to the Miami Police the following day, yet no action was taken. Meanwhile, the red pickup truck of William Reese, the 45-year-old caretaker Cunanan had murdered in Pennsville, N.J., just days after Miglin, sat in a parking garage for weeks. The FBI, insistent that Cunanan’s sexual orientation was irrelevant to their investigation, refused to distribute Most Wanted posters of Cunanan or to work with local gay organizations and publications.

“For a number of reasons, the authorities at the time never considered Cunanan to be a public threat because he was only killing homosexuals,” says Ramirez, the Venezuelan actor whose startling resemblance to the late designer helped secure him the title role in ACS. “The word assassination has a political and a social overtone because Versace was targeted. In a way, this was a tragedy that could have been prevented. Basically, homophobia killed Gianni Versace.”

Giovanni Maria Versace was born in Reggio Calabria, Italy, on December 2, 1946. The region’s Hellenic heritage—it had been part of Magna Graecia (Latin for “Great Greece”), the coastal areas of Southern Italy populated by Greek settlers—had a lasting influence on Versace and his work, most notably in the Medusa head and Greek keys of the label’s logo. His mother ran a dressmaking business, so fashion was a part of young Gianni’s DNA. He briefly went to work for his mother after graduating high school but fled the nest for Milan in 1972, bringing his formidable talents to the Italian ateliers Genny, Complice, and Callaghan. With his older brother Santo and younger sister Donatella, he launched his own company, and in 1978 debuted his first collection.

Throughout the ’80s and ’90s, Versace elevated sexy to an art form. As the adage, at times attributed to Anna Wintour, goes: Armani dressed the wife and Versace dressed the mistress. His looks were brash, bold, and sometimes delightfully tacky, rendered in luminescent metallics, sadomasochistic rubbers, and industrialized plastics that pushed the boundaries of fashion and “good taste.”  More than any other designer, before him or since, Versace permeated then all but defined the zeitgeist: from Elizabeth Hurley’s iconic safety-pin black dress (recently reappropriated by Lady Gaga), to Elizabeth Berkley’s doe-eyed infatuation with “Versayce” in 1995’s Showgirls, to rap group Migos’s 2013 breakthrough hit “Versace.”

Versace’s South Beach mansion was a monument to his grandeur, outfitted in Grecian opulence. Built in 1930 by trust-fund playboy and retired architect Alden Freeman, Casa Casuarina is now a hotel and popular tourist destination. Versace was enamored by the house’s Kneeling Aphrodite statue and bought the property for $2.95 million and the old Art Deco Hotel Revere next door for $3.7 million, which he promptly demolished, angering the Miami Design Preservation League—the neighborhood had been on the National Register of Historic Places since 1979. Versace invested an additional $32 million in renovations to realize his palace, decorating every inch with his exacting eye. In the opening minutes of The Assassination, Ramirez, in a resplendent pink robe, greets his army of servants with a measure of benevolence and unquestioned authority. The effect is that of an emperor surveying his mighty kingdom. From there, the series plays up the Greek-like tragedy of Versace’s life and death.

“His life was fated in a way,” says Ramirez. “There is something very classic about this real-life story that was captured by Tom: the characters, the archetypes, their relationships. You have Gianni as an emperor, and then you have his prince, Antonio, and you have his sister, Donatella, who is the empress-to-be. Sometimes there were scenes that really felt like we were doing theater, like Macbeth or Madea.”

Versace used his majestic property to entertain, and occasionally shelter, his circle of VIPs. In awe of the power of celebrity, he cultivated a loyal, glitzy following that included Princess Diana, Elton John, Madonna, Cher, and the supermodels he regularly employed, and in whose rise he was instrumental: Naomi, Cindy, Linda, Claudia. These famous clients and friends populated his front rows, appeared in his ad campaigns, and frequented his homes around the world. And his ambition wasn’t limited to the runway—Versace expanded his empire, designing costumes for operas, films, ballets, and concert tours.

“We basically live in the world that he created,” Ramirez says. “Before Gianni, glamour and sensuality were on two separate planes. Somehow he glamorized sexuality. He had a rock ’n’ roll approach to couture, and he essentially laid the ground for celebrity culture. From then on, for better and for worse, we’ve had this obsession with it. The sociopath who killed him was seduced by fame and by luxury.”

Versace was also one of the few openly gay celebrities of his day, having been with D’Amico, a former model, since 1982. Though, according to Martin, there was a limit to their openness.

“For many months in this series, I kind of went back into the closet,” the 46-year-old says. “They were not completely out. The fear of being seen holding hands in the streets is not an issue for me anymore, but I relived all of that, and it kinda set me back and gave me a lot of discomfort. But I was playing a part, and I used it. I used that anger and I used that frustration.”

The Assassination of Gianni Versace is the gayest thing FX or Ryan Murphy has ever done. And for anyone who’s seen Popular, or Glee, or the last few seasons of Nip/Tuck, or the musical number in American Horror Story: Asylum, that’s saying a lot. But it’s also a profound statement. Murphy, an openly gay showrunner and one of the most powerful and successful visionaries in Hollywood, has produced a series about an openly gay fashion designer (who was killed by a gay serial killer), featuring an openly gay pop star playing his boyfriend. Martin, who came out publicly in 2010, hadn’t even considered this level of out-and-proudness, but he’s acutely aware of how the show’s themes resonate in today’s terrifying political climate.

Ricky Martin has been in the public eye for the majority of his life—first in the popular boy band Menudo, which he parlayed into a successful music career in Latin America and a featured role on the long-running soap opera General Hospital. But it was a 1999 Grammy performance of “The Cup of Life,” the official song of the previous year’s World Cup, and the subsequent release of his U.S. breakthrough single, “Livin’ La Vida Loca,” that skyrocketed him to superstardom and ushered in the so-called “Latin explosion.”

With increased exposure, however, came increased scrutiny, and for years rumors regarding his sexual orientation persisted. Male pop stars have rarely been allowed to be openly gay, and those that were, like Elton John and George Michael, waited until relatively late in their careers to come out. For Martin, consequently, The Assassination of Gianni Versace offered a unique and personal challenge because, to paraphrase executive producer Brad Simpson, it’s about the politics of being out in the ’90s. Today, Martin is much more comfortable in his own skin. Not only is he in love (he’s been in a relationship with Syrian-Swedish painter Jwan Yosef since 2015), but he’s a father of two—and adamant that his family be an inspiration for other nontraditional families.

“A lot of people tell me, ‘Well, your kids are on the covers of magazines and blah, blah, blah,’ and I'm like, ‘Yes because I want to normalize this,’ ” he says. “I want people to look at me and see a family and say, ‘There’s nothing wrong with that.’ It's part of my mission. It’s part of my kids’ mission as well. My kids ask me about having two daddies and I tell them we are a part of a modern family. This is a beautiful sense of freedom.”

By taking on the role of Antonio D’Amico, the singer-actor had to conjure those years of hiding who he was, but in doing so he knew he was paying tribute to the love that Versace and D’Amico shared. Martin’s first day on set and his very first scene were also his most dramatic. “They didn't even let me warm up—I went straight into the murder,” he says. “I went straight into the moment where I find the body on the steps of the villa outside. It was a really long day. I was locked in this room for many hours just to be there in the moment when I looked out the window and saw Édgar’s feet. I went crazy and said, ‘Let’s shoot now! Please let’s shoot now!’ ”

After seeing production shots of Martin cradling a bloody Ramirez, D’Amico derided the tableau as “ridiculous” and a product of the “director’s poetic license.” In an interview with The Guardian last July, he also contradicted Martin’s assertion that he and Versace ever had to conceal their love. Martin then reached out to the 59-year-old D’Amico, whom he says was “incredibly generous” and “really honest.”

“The first thing I said to him was, ‘Antonio, I just want you to know that we all are working on this story with the utmost respect to what Gianni Versace represents to the world, and then we go to love,” says Martin. “ ‘My role here is for people to understand you, and see what the love you guys had was made of.’ They were together for 15 years. It’s a lifetime. And like Antonio says, there was no end to this love. There is no end to this love.”

“There are two love stories,” Ramirez adds. “One with Antonio, Ricky’s character, and the other with Penélope Cruz’s character, Donatella. Gianni was very devoted to both of them. Ricky and I wanted to be respectful of their relationship and open about how supportive they were of each other. According to everyone I talked to, Gianni was very protective of Antonio, and Antonio was very protective of Gianni.”

There is, however, no love lost between D’Amico and Donatella Versace. The two always had a contentious relationship. In his will, Versace provided D’Amico with a $30,000-a-month lifetime allowance and the right to live in any of the late designer’s homes, but because of a feud with the Versace family, D’Amico received a portion of what he was owed.

Family was of the utmost importance to Gianni Versace, but his own didn’t want to be involved in the show’s production. Ramirez, no stranger to playing biographical characters—he earned an Emmy nomination in 2011 for his portrayal of Venezuelan revolutionary Ilich Ramírez Sánchez in Carlos—approached the series with immense compassion, but out of respect (and for legal reasons) he chose not to approach the designer’s surviving family members.

“Whatever hesitations or reservations they have about the series, I understand,” Ramirez says of the Versace family. “This is a tragedy. It should have never happened. We want to enforce our own empathy. I hope that in the end they will be satisfied.”

What is a historical or cultural moment for the rest of the world is a story of intense personal tragedy for the family and former partner of Gianni Versace, so a production of this scale and caliber—this isn’t, after all, the Gina Gershon Lifetime movie House of Versace—is bound to reopen old wounds and draw renewed scrutiny. And yet: That’s fame. One’s life—and death—are no longer one’s own. But what made The People v. OJ Simpson so successful was how it took a tragedy and articulated its significance to the world we live in: a world with a 24/7 news cycle, a world of continued racial animus, a world of keeping up with the Kardashians.

While LGBTQ people have more rights and freedoms than in any other time in U.S. history, the rapid progress of marginalized communities over the previous years has revealed the cracks in this country—ugly truths barely hidden just below the surface have been exposed. This America abets white supremacists, bolsters an accused pedophile who believes homosexuality should be illegal, and neglects the victims of a mishandled natural disaster because they’re not quite “American” enough.

“We've been taking four airplanes with 150,000 pounds’ worth of basic necessities,” Martin says of the relief effort in Puerto Rico, of which he’s been a part. “It’s been very difficult because four million US citizens are still without power or clean drinking water. My family is there and luckily, I can bring them out to take a break, but there's a very intense passion about where we come from, and they don't want to leave.”

And, of course, it’s impossible to deny that if homophobia killed Gianni Versace, so did a gun. On June 12, 2016, Omar Mateen opened fire at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Fl., killing 49 people and wounding 58 others. The overwhelming majority of his victims were queer people of color in what was, until 15 months later, the deadliest mass shooting on American soil. “I want to be very respectful about this because I am not American,” Ramirez begins, cautiously. “But I have a very hard time reconciling how easy it is to gain access to guns here. And I come from one of the most violent countries in the world.”

Though mass shootings remain a uniquely American phenomenon, the conversations around gun control and mental illness have ultimately gone nowhere. For 35 years, the United States has rarely gone a year without a mass shooting. In 1997, the year of Andrew Cunanan’s murderous spree, more than 32,000 people were killed by guns. That number has remained stable, so that on any given day, 93 people are shot to death.

After Versace was killed, speculation ran wild regarding Cunanan’s motive. Some claimed an HIV-positive diagnosis triggered his murderous streak, but an autopsy debunked that theory, itself a form of homophobia. In 1997, homosexuality and AIDS were still inextricably bound so that a gay serial killer was automatically linked to the disease—as if Gregg Araki’s The Living End had come to life. But whereas that 1992 film glamorized its killers, the Andrew Cunanan in The Assassination of Gianni Versace is a pitiable figure—a lost soul grasping at a fantasy embodied by his final and most famous victim. Cunanan, too, was a victim—of homophobia, both internalized and externalized; of his own desires; of his upbringing; of the world in which he lived. Through his detestable actions, he finally got what he wanted: It’s now impossible to discuss the legacy of fashion’s one-time emperor without also remembering the man who cut his life short that July morning.

[fictionalverity]

[Fic Meta] Rise of the Galaxy, chapter 3 notes

Read chapter 3, or start from the beginning

Setting inspiration and fancasting ahead! Which is to say, lots of pictures.

I remember nothing about the Resistance base in TROS, so I was very surprised to learn that it is located inside a natural limestone cave on the jungle moon of Ajan Kloss. For this fic, I ran with that idea, using the limestone caves in Mammoth Cave National Park as inspiration. This is my favorite picture that I took during my visit there last year.

[Photo taken by fictionalverity at Mammoth Cave National Park, showing stalactites (the ones that come down from the cave ceiling) in dramatic orange and yellow lights. The beautiful lighting is thanks to the National Parks Service, but still, if anything like this had been in TROS, we would all have remembered it because it would have been amazing.]

The lighting and focus in this next picture are what Zarisa would call “a good effort,” but it shows the size of some of the “rooms” in these caves, and how the Resistance might build in stairs, walkways, and other structures to more easily get around.

[Photo taken by fictionalverity at Mammoth Cave National Park. You can see a walkway on the top left just above the lights, and near the center of the photo, another walkway leads to a flight of stairs going down to a lower part of the cave. Two very small figures are visible at the top of this walkway. On the right is a square pillar for... structural integrity? I didn’t think about it too hard at the time, which is just as well.]

Anyway. In this chapter, I introduced Senator Ransolm Casterfo, whose backstory here is consistent with his appearances in two tie-in novels, Bloodline by Claudia Gray and Resistance Reborn by Rebecca Roanhorse. ("Opposing the First Order" hugely oversimplifies how Ransolm got himself into trouble, but... look, just read Bloodline. It's really good.) I have taken the liberty of making Ransolm several years younger for this fic.

Speaking of Ransolm, fan casting time!

Tom Hiddleston as Ransolm Casterfo

@claudiagray​ has said that she envisions Tom Hiddleston as Ransolm. I am all about this artistic vision.

[Photo of Tom Hiddleston, original version by Dick Thomas Johnson. He is looking at the camera from an angle, frowning slightly. His light brown hair is brushed back and he is wearing a dark gray jacket, white shirt, and black tie.]

Sunita Mani as Delya | DL-4726

I mostly know Sunita Mani from GLOW , but I think she would be great as Delya, one of the stormtroopers Finn befriends on Halcyon in chapter 1. Delya can be pretty anxious, but she’s brave enough to do the right thing anyway.

[Photo of Sunita Mani, original version by Cate Hellman. Her dark hair is pulled back, with wisps framing her face. She is facing the camera with the barest hint of a smile. She wears a black necklace and a black sleeveless top with lace at the collar.]

Rose Leslie as Zarisa | ZR-3155

Zarisa is more brash and breezy than her friend, and she’s got bright orange hair. I think Rose Leslie could nail this role (even if she is a Tory, urgh).

[Photo of Rose Leslie, original version by Suzi Pratt. She is looking at something above her and to her right, holding one hand up to shield her face. Her red hair is down around her shoulders, and she’s wearing a black dress, red lipstick, and a chunky silver necklace.]

[imagine-upon-a-star]

‘Cross my heart and hope to die doll’ Bucky laughed leading a small brunette to bar to order her a drink. ‘It really did happen’

The restaurant was full of soldier’s uniforms and twirling dresses. The air filled with expensive perfumes, alcohol, nicotine and sweat coming from people moving to the band playing swing. The last night before soldiers were going to leave the country to fight. The night to remember. 

The smile quickly disappeared from Bucky’s face when he looked at the red bar chairs. He had been looking there for over an hour trying to see yours reaction at him changing partners and dancing with them through the night. This time though you weren’t alone like you had been only minutes ago when he escorted his current partner outside because it was too stuffy for her in the room. This time you were in a company of a man. Also soldier judging by his uniform. A soldier who just made you laugh and whose hand, in Bucky’s opinion, really didn’t have to rest on the back of your chair.

‘James?’ a high-pitched voice next to him brought him back from his trance ‘Is everything okay?’ 

‘Pardon me sugar’ Bucky looked at her quickly before his gaze returned to you ‘Let’s get you this drink shall we?’  before she could answer he already started walking towards you making the girl move faster to reach his pace and don’t lose contact with his arm.

‘One apple blossom please’ Bucky said leaning against the counter. He moved to the right bumping in the soldier’s back. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t notice you’ he said waving his hand around.

‘That’s alr-’ the man turned around and started but was quickly cut off by Bucky.

‘Y/N!’ Barnes almost shouted ‘I didn’t see you here’ 

‘That’s surprising since it’s where you left me and Steve and left with Dolores or Claudia or Jane’ you said taking a sip of your drink.

‘What can I do? I couldn’t let beautiful ladies stay at their tables all the time in a night like this’ Bucky laughed but his gaze was focused on man next to you ‘Oh I didn’t introduce myself’ he reached his hand ‘James Barnes. Sargent James Barnes’ he said shaking man’s palm and emphasising his military rank. He knew it wasn’t the highest one but still hoped that the man would be impressed. 

‘Nicolaus Johnson’ the man smiled.

‘He is captain’ you said smirking when Bucky’s smile fell a little bit ‘And who is your companion right now?’

‘Well this lovely lady’ Bucky said looking for the first time at the girl at his side since he had stopped by the bar ‘Gave me an honour to dance with her for the last couple of songs and I must admit she is a delightful company’ he added making the girl giggle when he put his arm around her waist. 

‘I don’t doubt that’ you smiled squeezing your glass a little bit tighter. ‘What happened with your previous one?’ 

‘Her boyfriend interrupted us’

‘What a bastard’ you said sarcastically turning a little bit more in your chair so you sat on it sideways. 

‘Right? Fortunately this beauty helped me with my misery’ he said winking at his companion making her blush.

You cleared your throat and looked at the edge of your red dress fixing it a little bit. Looking at Bucky with this girl made you feel hot outside in the worst way possible and it wasn’t something you wanted to admit.

‘Well aren’t you a lucky lad?’ you said. Just then the band started playing new song.

The girl made a high pitched sound and started lightly pulling Bucky towards dance floor ‘It’s my favourite song James! Come on’ 

‘Yes James go’  you said ‘Don’t worry about me. I have a good company’ you added putting your hand on captain’s wrist and smiling at him.

Bucky felt like he was boiling. He clenched his jaw and was about to say something when the girl pulled him harder and made him follow her on the dance floor. 

You looked at the wall opposite the bar. Colourful bottles with alcohol reflected the lights casting shaking, rainbow-like shadows on the floor.

‘Is he someone important for you?’ Nicolaus’ voice brought you back. 

‘No one you should worry about’ you put on a fake smile and looked at your companion ‘Absolutely no one’ sweet liquor made its way down your throat. 

‘Good’ the soldier’s voice went an octave lower as he moved his chair closer to you.  He gently grasped your free hand and raised it to his mouth. 

Bucky twirled his partner completely deaf for her cheerful laughter and comments. The more he was looking at you and Nicolaus the more and more grim his face looked. When captain’s lips moved softly to your wrist Bucky’s feet stopped moving. 

‘James?’ the girl almost lost her balance ‘Why are...’

‘I’m sorry love’ Bucky said letting go of her hand. 'I’m feeling sick’ he gave her a tight smile before started manoeuvring through the crowd. As far as it was possible from you, from the captain, from the burning feeling in his chest. 

Chill evening air kissed his flushed skin the moment he opened the door. Outside the street was almost empty except few drunks leaving one bar to enter another. 

The music was muffled and the light coming from the bar was dimmed when he approached the wall and started kicking it before hitting it with his fist. 

‘Big guy try to find someone your size’  the music became louder for a second the moment your voice torn through the air. ‘Did your date not appreciate your dancing skills? Hurt your pride so decided to leave her?’ 

Bucky didn’t even look at you as his hands moved to the buttons of his jacket to put them in place. ‘What are you doing here? Weren’t you busy?’ 

‘Could ask the same thing’ you approached him slowly crossing your arms over your chest. Your heels made a soft clicking sound that made James look at you. 

‘Not feeling it. But go. Nicolaus is probably lonely. Especially his lips. Must be getting cold poor things’ 

Clicking stopped ‘Excuse me?’ 

‘Why are you here Y/N?’ Bucky sighed pinching the bridge of his nose for a second. 

‘You left...’

‘I did. And?’ James interrupted you shrugging ‘Didn’t know I had to report myself’

‘Girls weren’t enough or their boys got mad?’ 

‘Not my type of crowd’

‘Well you are surprising me’

‘Because you must know everything?’

‘What’s your problem?’

‘My? I don’t have a problem’

‘Oh of course not... Steam is coming out of your ears you noticed?’ 

‘Cold weather. Maybe you should go back inside. I believe nice and warm soldier jacket is waiting there’

‘Are you jealous?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous! About what? Him?’ Bucky laughed bitterly ‘Why would I care?’

'Oh my God! Why are you such a baby?!’ 

‘Sorry it is not the way you want it to be princess!’

‘Could you just calm down and talk to me?!’ 

‘Talk to... DAMN IT!’ Bucky shouted spinning in place‘You drive me wild!’ 

‘What?!’ you moved closet to him so you were almost chest to chest 

‘You spent the night with some fella who seems to be glued to your skin and then expect me to just talk to you?!’

‘What the hell James!’ you pointed your finger in his chest ‘Oh so you are allowed to swim around and catch every lady that is fainting over your square jaw but I can’t have a company?! I can’t believe you!’ 

You moved away ‘I do what I want with who I want and who do you think you are to make decisions for me?’ 

‘I’m...’

‘My WHO?!’ you shouted ‘You’ve just said you don’t care’ your voice went lower ‘So don’t. I’m done. Goodnight’ you swallowed hard and looked him up and down before turning around and heading back to the bar. 

‘I’m an ass Y/N’ soft voice made you turn around ‘A player. A coward’ you have never seen Bucky’s face this sincere, desperate and hopeless at the same time. ‘It’s my last night before I’m leaving and I’m still nothing more than that’ 

‘James....’

He raised his finger ‘You wanted me to talk so I talk’ a humorless laugh escaped his throat. ‘I’m a coward remember, might stop every moment’ 

You closed your mouth listening intently. 

Bucky took a shaky breath ‘As I said it’s my last night and I’m fighting with someone I never wanted to fight with. Nor hurt. And I must have a talent because I achieved both’ 

‘So before anything else - I’m sorry. Truly. I am sorry. But the thing is you do drive me wild. You can be cocky, talk too much, completely ignore me and my fragile masculinity is not ready for that’ your soft laughter stopped shaking of his voice ‘You can annoy me and anger me and make me jealous and be a real pain...’

‘I thought you were apologizing’

‘And interrupt me’ Bucky raised his eyebrow pointedly ‘But...I like it. And I can’t give up on you, especially not because of my own stupidity. So if it is the last night then Y/N Y/L/N you must know one thing and I expect nothing in return’ he closed his eyes before his blue orbs met yours ‘I love you’ 

Your breath hitched the moment those three words left his mouth. You had no idea how long you had been frozen until you saw a small, sad smile quirking Bucky’s lips. He took out his cap from the pocket of his jacket and put it on his head before turning around and slowly walking down dark street. Next thing you remembered was your hand on his elbow, his surprised face and his soft lips meeting yours.

When you pulled away the world came back to its regular motion and bubbly laughter left your lips upon seeing Bucky’s face - eyes still closed, cheeks flushed, lips puckered. His blues slowly came to view when his face turned into silent question. 

‘Ditto soldier’ you whispered taking hold of his lapels and pulling him once again ‘I love y...’ the last word was swallowed by James’ lips closing on yours and his arms caging you in the most desperate and loving embrace.

Oh yes you drove him wild. 

gifs