#i would very much like to get to watch the SA! live streams and get to listen to the new monthly podcast!!!!

[theozzicorn]

hey look maybe if i had more money i could actually get more content for the stuff i love!!!!

[stay-midnight]

Who’s Dom?

Jisung x Male Reader

Word Count: 2K

TW //: Explicit Smut, Mentions of Alchohol and Drinking, Drunk Stray Kids

Warnings/Kinks: Hard Dom! Jisung, Whiny Male Reader, Daddy Kink, Dom/Sub Play, Unprotected Sex (Wrap it up please.), Anal Penetration, Bondage aka getting tied up, Toys (Vibrator/Cock Ring), Nipple Play, Unprepped Entry (Prep or it'll hurt af), Jerking, Degradation, Mentions of Exhibitionism, Minor Spanking, Rough Sex, Begging, Crying and Creampie.

a/n: I’m sorry that I haven’t done/posted any of the requests yet.. I’m trying to find inspiration and like exams are next monday and that is also stressing me out. 🥺 After exams, I’ll focus on them!

Ignore grammar mistakes and spelling mistakes, I was again too lazy to reread🤡.

Summary: Jisung invited you to the celebrate the third win of their M/V Back Door and you being you teased him about being a sub, let’s just say it didn’t end well..-

You were humming some tune happily as you waited for the taxi to arrive at the Stray Kids dorm, you took your phone out from your pocket and got a text from your boyfriend of 2 years, Han Jisung.

lover boy❤️👀: Baby, are you close to the dorms?

You let out a chuckle at his impatience.

Baby🌟❤️: Yup, I’m almost there Ji.

You texted, before placing your phone back on your pocket.

. . .

After 5 minutes, the sight of the Stray Kids dorms met you, which made you smile. The first thing you noticed at the entrance were Jisung’s smile, you walked over to him “Hi, Ji.” you said the smile never leaving your face after not seeing him for a week.

“Let’s go to find the others shall we?” he said with a grin, extending his hand for you to hold.

You reached for his hand, entwining your fingers with his as you follow him, then gave him a kiss on the cheek which made him look at you with a large grin.

. . .

“Y/N!” Chan was the first one to notice your arrival, he walked over to you and hugged you.

Then Felix noticed you as well, he jumped over to you before giving you a koala hug, “Y/N! We missed you!~” Felix said still clinging on to you.

“Hi Lix, hi Channie.. Where are the others?” you asked him, looking around the main living room.

“Seungmin and Hyunjin went out to get drinks while Minho-hyung is probably cooking food with Jeongin and Changbin is probably doing his own thing somewhere.” Felix answered,

“Lix, I think that’s enough intimacy with my boyfriend.” Jisung said practically ripping Felix off of you, making Felix whine and Chan chuckle.

“Awwh, Is Sungie jealous~?” Felix teased, Jisung glared at Felix, “Nope, cause I know that Y/N will pick me over you.” Jisung stated, sticking his tongue out.

You chuckled then hum, “Of course, I would pick Ji. After all before we started dating, he’d always deliver me food which I found cute~” you started to tease him as well, Jisung pouted—“Well I didn’t know anything that you like so I just sent food.”

You chuckled, “It’s fine Ji, thanks for the food though.”

. . .

Seungmin and Hyunjin finally entered the dorm, bickering loudly. “Why did you buy a very strong drink??” Seungmin said, glaring at Hyunjin.

“I thought the others like it strong?” Hyunjin questioned, looking at Seungmin.

“They do!, but Y/N is here and he might not like it.” Seungmin clicked his tongue.

You look at the both of them and they turned to you, stopping their argument.

“It’s fine, I don’t really like drinking the much..” You said scratching the nape of your neck.

Jisung widened his eyes before grinning, “If you’re not drinking then I’m not as well.”

You look at him, “Ji, you don’t have to.. You should have fun with the others.”

“It’s okay don’t worry..” Jisung reassured which made put a small smile on your face.

You sighed, “Fine..”

. . . . . . .4 hours later.

You blinked twice at the situation you got yourself into, they forced you to join their truth and dare game, “Guys.. don’t you think this seems about childish? What is this grade school?” you huffed out.

You heard them boo at you, “L-Listen Y/N.. There is... not an a...ge li-limit for g..ames” Felix slurred out in his deep voice.

You rolled your eyes and gave in to their requests. “Fine, fine.. only 3 rounds okay?” you said sitting down in the circle.

. . .

They were really easy, to be honest. You were dared to kiss your bias in the group in the lips which of course, you kissed Jisung. You were also asked about before Jisung was your favourite member, who was it and you answered that truthfully as well then came the last round.

It was Jeongin’s turn to ask you, the most sober one excluding you and Jisung since he didn’t take one sip of the drink they bought.

Jeongin grinned, looking between you and Jisung “Truth or Dare?”,

“Truth.” you said, scrunching your nose at the smell of alcohol wafting throughout the dorms.

His grin widening, “Who is the dominant one, you or Jisung?”

You smirked and answered with no hesitation, “Me, of course.”

The members let out a series of “Oohs~”

Hyunjin giggled out, “Babyboy Jisungie~” while the other members cooed at your boyfriend.

You could tell from the way that Jisung’s eyes darkened that he did not like that one bit, he caught you staring and glared at you.

You gulped nervously at how pissed your boyfriend is. Most likely he’ll get teased by the members from now on.

You sighed and got up from the floor, “That’s my last round.” you stated,

They all jeered with “boo’s” and “no’s” you rolled your eyes at their drunken state and sat back to the couch. You felt a hand in your shoulder which made you jump in your seat.

You look to the side to a sight of Jisung clearly pissed, “Who’s the dominant one again, huh baby boy?” You whimpered as his grip on your shoulders tightened.

“J-Ji... it was a joke..” you said out, shaking your shoulders to get his rough grip to let go.

“It doesn’t matter if it was a joke baby, you lied at a truth. I know all too well on how much you scream at night when we fuck.” he breathed out in your ear.

“I should punish you for that hmm?” he smirked, trailing his hand inside your shirt, rubbing teasing circles.

“Ji, not here..” you said, grabbing his arm that was inside your shirt.

He grinned and grabbed your arm, pulling you to stand up. “In that case, we’ll go somewhere more private~”

. . .

Jisung dragged you into his room before throwing you into his bed, “Don’t move baby boy~” He said as he walked to his closet to get something.

He walked back to you with a red box in his hand with a wide grin, “Strip, baby.”

You nodded and stripped yourself off your clothes, leaving youraelf in boxers. He opened the red box and pulled out a rope, a vibrator and a cock ring.

He walked over to you and pushed you down to his bed before restraining your arms to the wooden headboard.

You pulled on the ropes and look at Jisung again with a flustered face, “Ji...”

“Uh-uh baby, that isn’t what you should call me.” he grinned as he walked over to you with the vibrator and the cock ring.

He took ahold of your cock and jerked it off, “Ji.. ah~” you said bucking your hips into his hand.

He squeezed your cock tightly but still pleasurable, “Again, baby.. what should you call me?”

“F-Fuck~ Daddy, daddy~” you panted at the squeeze,

“So sensitive already and we haven’t even started~” Jisung stopped jerking you off when you were hard, he placed the cock ring on you which made you whine.

He spreads your legs, licking his lips at the sight of your hole.

He grabs the vibrator and lubes it up with the lube from the red box—positioning the vibrator at your hole before pushing it in slowly.

You cried out at the entry, “Daddyy~” you pulled against your rope as tears formed in your eyes at the stretch.

He smirked and pushed all the way in the vibrator prodding your prostate, you squirmed and clenched around the vibrator, “Daddy~ Just fuck me already..” you moaned out.

“No, baby boy this is a punishment.” Jisung said as he turned on the vibrator to medium.

“Ahh~ Daddy! take off the cock ring!” you cried out at the vibrations.

“Who’s the dominant one again baby~?” Jisung said, turning to the vibrations to the highest and ignoring your pleas. while you scream at the pleasure.

“You, you, you are Daddy~!” you screamed out, tears streaming down your red cheeks.

“D-Daddy turn it off~!” you sobbed out, clenching around the toy once again, you bit your bottom lip, “I’m close..~ Fuck please, please.. Let me cum..” you panted thrusting your hips up the air.

Jisung just watched there looking at you with his evil smirk as he strode closer to you.

“D..Daddy please?” you plead looking at him with teary eyes, your cheeks stained with tear marks.

“Maybe this will make you tell the actual truth next time or else I’ll show how much of a slut you are in front of them.” he scoffed, trailing his hand on your tummy—going up to your nipples and pinching them harshly, making you moan in ecstasy.

You whimpered and spazzed a bit when you went through a dry orgasm, “D-Daddy.. I’ll sa..y the truth next time..” you breathed out before moaning again at the toy’s vibration overstimulating you.

Jisung cooes and slowly slid off the cock ring, making you moan “T-Thank you d-daddy..”

He then smile before turning off the vibration making you whine, “Now beg, beg for how much you want me to fuck this pretty hole of yours.”

“Please, please...” you pleaded and bit your lips as he started to strip. After he stripped himself off of all clothing except his underwear, you stare at the tent in the middle of his boxers which made you moan at the sight.

He licks his lips and pulls out the vibrator slowly, “Ah~” you moan out at the feeling.

He removes his boxers, his cock springing out and hitting his chest. “Baby boy, you’re really want it huh? I mean look at your hole clenching and unclenching..”

“Mmm,” you nodded your head rapidly, whining silently at your restraints—wanting to touch him. “Please.. want daddy’s cock..”

He chuckled, “You really want to it that much huh?” he said lining his tip at your entrance making you whine, “Y-Yes d-daddy~”

Jisung slowly started to push his cock into you—watching as your face contorts to pleasure at the stretch. “F-Fuck..” you said as you took him to the hilt.

He then started a harsh pace and fucked into you roughly while you let out moans.

“Cute,” Jisung said, before grabbing your cock and jerking your cock matching his rough pace. “Such a slut for my cock, isn’t that right baby?”

Your eyes rolled back and you arched your back, you couldn’t form any words due to Jisung’s rough pace. He slaps your thigh. “I asked you a question.” he glared with a strict tone.

“Y-Yes a slut for daddy..” You whined out, getting closer to your high. “Good.”

“D-Daddy, I’m close..” you breathed out as you pushed yourself back to Jisung.

He kept silent as he thrusts roughly into you—his tip bluntly hitting your prostate, making you release all over your stomach with an arch of your back. Jisung kept thrusting into you which made you struggle against the ropes at the sensitivity. “Daddy~! S-S-Sensitive!” you moaned out.

He groans as his thrusts get sloppy, “S-Shit.. baby, I'm close...” he said in a deep tone, “C-Cum in me please...” you stuttered out, releasing again on your chest.

He then came in you deep, milking every last drop making sure you were filled to the brim.

You slightly whimper at the feeling of your walls coated in white, “So f-full..”

He then pulled out and watched as the cum drip out of you, with a smug grin, he undid the ropes on you—making you sigh in relief as you placed your hands at the sides.

Jisung got up and got wipes from the drawer—going back to you and wiping the cum off your stomach. “Was I too rough?” he asked a bit guilty at his rough treatment to you.

You shook your head and placed your hands at his chest, “It was okay..” you said with a smile.

He smiles as well before smirking, “Still can’t believe that the members think I’m the sub.” he said chuckling,

“I mean.. with those cheeks, I think you look like a sub.” you teased slightly, he then pouted—which made you giggle, “Don’t worry, you’re still a dom~ especially on stage though.”

He rolls his eyes, “Maybe now you’ll admit you’re the submissive one in this relationship.”

“Nope,” you said a bit blunt before releasing a series of giggles.

He slaps your thighs playfully before laying down beside you, “Well, get a good night’s rest since the boys probably heard your screams and moans.”

You pout, “I’m hoping they didn’t~...” you look to your side and noticed Jisung snoring lightly which made you smile, “Good night Sungie..” you said closing your eyes and drifting off to sleep as well..

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 12

Chapter 12 is heeeere ! It's been a long time, but I sincerely hope you will like it 💕💕💕

Chapter 12 : Aengels are the most powerful breed Eldarya has ever known

" My angel "

My heart skipped several beats at the hearing of this unexpected nickname. I tried to regain my composure as I looked away from his, squeezing my legs a little tighter against me.

- It should not be so bad, I just need to learn to use it again. I don't want to bother Eweleïn for so little, I say more to try to convince myself.

Without a word, Lance stood up and patiently extended his hand to me. I hesitated for a moment, realizing my nakedness under the sheets I held tightly, as well as the light that now dimly lit the room, but his calm gaze finally decided me to trust him. Nervously, I let go of the thin fabric to wrap my fingers around his, still clamping an arm around my chest as he guided me to the large mirror that adorned one of the walls of my bedroom. Gently grabbing my shoulders, he turned my back to it and, taking another from the cabinet, he slid it into my palm made slightly sweaty by the anxiety that was driving me. The lump in my stomach, I inhaled several long seconds while plunging into his calm gaze, in which I saw the support I needed to finally face what terrified me. But my breath caught in my throat as my eyes drifted to the small psyche between my fingers.

With horror, I discovered that the entire center of my back was covered with bruises ranging from yellow to dark purple, running from between my shoulder blades to the end of my rib cage. My skin seemed mutilated, totally bruised. Since when had this become so alarming ? Tracing long uneven and voluminous lines, two misshapen bumps indicated the shape of my wings which had remained stuck during my nightmare.

I couldn't understand it anymore, it was as if my body categorically refused the blood of faery in it.

These marks repelled me.

A tear fell down my cheek again without my being able to control it, dark thoughts invading my foggy mind. But what the hell was I doing here? I was clearly not an Eldaryan and my body had reminded me of this every day since I woke up from the Crystal!

Lost in the murky stream of my thoughts, I didn't notice the dragon moving in my direction. With a slow gesture, he surprised me by coming to capture with his cold fingers the salty taste which descended the slope of my cheek.

- Please don't cry Andraste, he said softly before pausing briefly, his face serious. I am sincerely sorry that I did not understand everything that was happening to you, but I promise you that we will find a solution to all of this.

His eyes, not letting go of me for a moment, expressed a determination familiar to him.

- And I'm sorry if I hurt you earlier.

- You couldn't have known, it's nothing, I said with a weak smile at his sheepish look. And then, it was I who literally jumped on you.

An amused pout appeared on his face, which relaxed me slightly.

- It's true, I couldn't do anything to defend myself. I was helpless.

I burst into a frank laugh that Lance didn't seem to want to miss. Grinning broadly, he grabbed my t-shirt sent to the corner of the room and approached me before pulling the collar over my head.

- Let's go to sleep now, it's late.

I put the top wisely under his gentle gestures. Walking towards the bed, I watched curiously as he turned off the light.

Was he going to stay with me tonight ?

Slipping under the sheets, I felt him with some relief join me in the bed. Turned in his direction, I remained stoic not quite knowing what to do. Granted, we had kissed, but what about now that the moment was over ?

Answering my internal questions, Lance grabbed one of my hands and rested it on his chest, crossing his long fingers with mine.

My God, I didn't dare to move.

He then slipped an arm under his neck and lost himself for a moment in contemplating the ceiling. I took the opportunity to observe him. In the surrounding darkness, I could tell the white scar that marked his right nose. I detailed his features, both thin and hard, before dwelling on his full mouth.

I could still smell the fresh taste of his lips on mine.

Catching me off guard, he suddenly brought my hand to his face and kissed it, as light as a feather.

- Goodnight, my Angel.

I smile stupidly at the hearing of this nickname which I was already taking a liking to.

For the first time in several weeks, I think I finally fell asleep with peace of mind, slight tingling running through our palms coiled against each other.

***

Sitting on the infirmary's auscultation table, I nervously clenched and unclenched my fists on my removed garment as I guessed Eweleïn's eyes watching me quietly, her fingers tracing the same path as the dragon's for a few hours earlier. A violent shiver ran through me when she touched the sensitive part of my back, making me close my eyelids in the face of the shame that overwhelmed me due to my pitiful physical state. I couldn't stand those looks that reminded me of my alarming weakness.

Straightening up, my nurse sas silent for several long seconds, further increasing my stress level. The elf walked around the table and stood in front of me, looking serious.

- Andraste, why didn't you come to see me earlier ? she asked me, her tone both soft and bossy.

What could I answer ? That I was once again too fragile, too weak to bear the weight of my own origins ?

- I don’t know. At first it wasn't so alarming, but then...

I don’t finish my sentence. In truth, I had no excuse. I had only closed my eyes to the situation, no longer able to bear to appear so weak in the eyes of others as well as my own. It was grueling...

- You know that this is not your fault ? she said to me, reading me like an open book. You've lived as a human much longer than you did during Freezing, and all that time spent in the Crystal has completely disrupted your metabolism. It's not weakness, it's just your body trying to adjust.

- But why was it that before, I managed to use my powers and my wings naturally ? I almost got carried away. I hadn't been on Eldarya for a long time, yet it didn't hurt like it does now.

- I know my dear, she said with a sad look. You'll have to get your body used to it all again. I think your wit has a lot to do with it, too.

She pulled up a chair and sat down across from me, her slow, gentle movements decidedly appeasing me despite the circumstances.

- You just woke up after seven years of absence and you realize that people have erected you to the rank of goddess savior of their world. Isn't it quite normal to feel too much pressure from others ? The Crystal Hall, even since you both woke up, has become a hall of worship. In addition, you have experienced events that are very hard to bear psychologically speaking. You need to move forward at your own pace and I think your body is trying to make you understand it subconsciously.

I pondered her words. It was true that I felt the weight of people's gaze and that I no longer felt at all comfortable in the presence of people. I felt like something was constantly expected of me, that I had to show them that I was the one they had been praying for over the past few years. That I was worthy of their expectations.

Except that I was none of that. I had certainly fought Lance and had the blessing of the Oracle, but what more did I have as a person ?

Nothing. I had nothing more.

- Lance told me that you were able to use your powers again. It's a very good thing, soon you will be able to stick your wings out like a perfect aengel, believe me.

A gentle smile lit up her face as a result of those words. I wanted her to tell me the truth. That one day, I can feel this faery part in me as naturally as my human part.

Except that it wasn’t won.

The elf plunged her eyes into mine again and, grabbing my hands, she grabbed my attention.

- Honey, as far as we know, the aengels are the most powerful race Eldarya has ever known. You probably have a power so powerful inside you that you automatically reject it, but when you have learned to harness it, I can guarantee that you will finally feel completely yourself. I know how much you doubt yourself right now, and it's completely understandable given the reactions of your body, but I know that you will get better very quickly and learn to deal with your new condition.

She then slowly let go of my hands and stood up nimbly. Deep inside me, her words touched me more than I expected. I was amazed at how true she was about my condition and the way I see things now. Eweleïn was truly the most amazing person I knew.

- But for now, I'm going to give you a cream that will soothe your muscles and your back tension, she finally concluded.

Walking towards a table containing various creams and medicines, she grabbed a jar containing a mixture probably of her own making and, standing behind me, she spread with her delicate fingers the cold product all over the affected area of ​​my back. The elf was right, the concoction immediately relaxed my tight skin, easing the pressure pulsing on my muscles.

- Thank you Eweleïn, I breathed calmly. I don't know how I will do without you.

- Indeed, I wonder how you would do without me, she laughs sincerely. You can go now, but you'll have to come back tomorrow for me to see the healing progress.

Replacing my clothes on my back made sticky by the cream, I was about to get up when the elf stopped my gesture.

- For the resorption of your wings, I'm sorry but I can't do anything more. It will probably be a while before this phenomenon stops, but I understand that Lance has volunteered for your training. You know, he has wings too, maybe he can help you with that problem.

At the utterance of the dragon's first name, a diffused heat ran through my stomach. I could feel my heart race as a thin smile stretched the lips of my interlocutor.

I was sure she suspected something. Nothing seemed to escape this woman, especially not my emotions.

With a much lighter heart, I closed the door to the infirmary behind me and huffed loudly. Despite everything, this interview with Eweleïn had done me the greatest good. I felt relieved, as if weighed down by a weight that had choked me for days.

Walking down the hall, I heard noise coming from the side of the Council Chamber. Catching my gaze, I found Nevra standing not far from me. The vampire walked in my direction, making my heart beat even faster.

- Hello, Andraste. Are you coming out of the infirmary again ?

My teeth gritted at his remark, to say the least, out of place, I was a little too upset to argue with him today.

- Hello, Nevra, I replied defensively. What is this sudden interest in my presence worth to me ? You seemed to rather avoid me, these last few weeks.

Blown away by my answer, he exhaled loudly before visibly trying to ease the tension.

- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude.

- It's funny, I just thought that you were trying to be disagreeable. Finally, it is probably me who wins me again.

Turning on my heels, I started down the stairs when the vampire's hand grabbed my wrist.

- They weren't empty words, Andraste. I am really sorry.

I remained resolutely turned towards the hall of the room of the doors, not wishing to face his gaze when I already felt my tears ready to resurface. I really had to work on my emotional management.

- It's not the first time you've apologized, yet we're still at the same point, I said weakly. Let me go, please.

Despite my request, the young man didn’t move a millimeter. I felt he wanted to add something, but what ? He finally resolved to let go, changing his attitude yet again.

- Your bodyguard isn't with you, this time ?

I felt all the bitterness in his voice. No, he was not allowed to play it to me like that, not after all the animosity he had offered me after my waking up.

- At least, he doesn't spend his time pretending I don't exist.

Without a glance in his direction, I hurtled down the steps to the forge. I really needed to externalize all the conflicting feelings that were literally eating me up. I had to let off steam, find something to relieve myself.

Slamming the door open, I slammed into a chest that I now knew pretty well.

Lance grabbed my arm before I found myself knocked down by the force of his body.

- Everything all right, Andraste?

No, it wasn't.

Why did I want to kiss him every damn time I saw him ?

(Chapter 13)

[openheartthot]

Be Mine

Pairing: Open Heart [Ethan x f!MC (Camille Prescott)]

Word Count: 1,764

Rating: T

Warinings: Brief mentions of sex/sexual content 

Category: Fluff :)

Summary: Ethan and Camille make it official on Valentine’s Day.

***

I know it’s been like 2 months since I last posted a fic but I’ve been feeling a tiny bit more positive about OH3, plus it’s Valentine’s Day and these two idiots are in love. Don’t mind me making Ethan the insecure one as payback for what PB does to us haha

Ethan has been so buried in work that, lately, all the days seem to blend into one another. He can’t remember the last time he took a day off-- he’s been living, eating, and breathing Edenbrook.

And then there’s Camille.  

On the rare occasion that he manages to tear himself away from the hospital… he’s been living, breathing, and eating her, too. 

Ethan tugs slightly at his collar, a sudden flush working up his neck at the reminder of her soft blonde hair and even softer curves. 

The airy sound of her laugh has his head instinctually jerking up and in the direction of the residents’ lounge. 

As Ethan turns on his heel to follow the familiar noise, he can’t help but take note of the pink decorations adorning the walls and hanging from the ceilings. No matter how lost he’s been in his work lately, the universe just won’t let him forget about Valentine’s Day. 

It’s a stupid holiday, really. He’s always thought so. The boxed chocolates are a sad, chalky, affair, and the brightly colored gifts are gimmicky at best. The whole thing is little more than a capitalist cash-grab, and there is nothing Ethan hates more than capitalism. 

He forces himself not to roll his eyes as he spots two nurses exchanging cards in his periphery. 

It’s not that he dislikes love, but he does dislike the showmanship and theatricality that seem to surround February 14th. 

It’s just another day to him. In his thirty-seven years, he hasn’t once deigned to involve himself in such a tacky display of affection, and he sure isn’t going to start now. 

Except…

As he opens the door to the residents’ lounge, Camille is elbow deep in a pile of pink tissue paper. The excitement in her wide smile is nothing short of arresting, and of course, he should’ve known that she’d live for something like this. 

“Aww, look at it!” Camille squeals, her eyes shining as she lifts a stuffed bear from the mountain of gift wrapping. Her eyes dart over to Ethan, noticing him in the doorway, and her smile grows. She wiggles one of its fuzzy arms in an imitation of a wave. “It’s so cute, isn’t it?” 

“It’s something,” Ethan says tactfully, crossing the room to slip an arm around her waist. He catches a whiff of her light floral perfume, and can’t resist leaning down to peck her on the cheek. “Did Sienna buy that for you?” 

He may not be a fan of Valentine’s Day, but neither does he wish to offend Sienna Trinh, especially not after the basket of homemade scones she delivered to his office that morning. 

“Nope, one of Camille’s patients has a crush on her.” Lahela teases from the couch, where he is sorting through a thick stack of cards from his own extensive list of admirers. 

A strange itch works its way up the back of Ethan’s spine at Bryce’s words, and his arm tenses instinctively around Camille’s waist. 

Just because he loathes Valentine’s Day does not mean that he wants another man buying her tacky trinkets and writing sappy notes. 

Camille doesn’t seem to notice his displeasure, her lips pitching into a smile as she holds up the card to show him. 

“Medically speaking, you make my pulse race. Isn’t that adorable?” She laughs, and Ethan narrows his eyes at the obnoxiously pink card. The card that someone else gave to Camille. 

Her green eyes dart over the surface of the card once more, and Ethan feels something tight and uncomfortable building in his chest. 

“I think that’s the most brainless thing I’ve ever heard.” Ethan says sharply. “Which patient sent this?” He needs to know, so he can reassign them to another resident. 

“Relax, Ethan, it’s Jake from the pediatric ward.” Camille says with a breezy laugh. “He’s twelve.” 

“Oh,” Ethan shifts his weight, embarrassed. The sound of his pager is a welcome reprieve, and he glances at it gratefully. “Are you coming over tonight? I can meet you in the atrium.” 

It’s become almost routine for them, on the rare occasion they both have a night off. After the stress of the past few weeks, Ethan can’t wait to get her alone. Even if it’s only to watch a movie and drink that horrible cheap wine she likes, he just wants to spend time with her. Even the thought of a proper Valentine’s Day date, oddly, holds a new appeal when he considers Camille across the table, her smile lighting up the room...

“I think we’re gonna do a Galentine’s Day thing tonight.” Camille says with an apologetic shrug.

“Galentine’s Day?” Ethan asks, unable to keep the disgruntled edge out of his voice. It seems a new term is invented every time he turns his back. It’s deeply perturbing. 

“Yeah!” Sienna chimes in. “Me, Camille, Aurora, and Jackie, since we all managed to get the night off and none of us have significant others-- except Camille, I mean, you and her…” Sienna trails off, looking unsure. 

“It’s okay, he hates Valentine’s Day, anyway.” Camille interjects quickly. “And we’re not official or anything like that.” 

The look she shoots him is equal parts hopeful and nervous, as if she’s waiting for Ethan to correct her. He wants to, God, how he wants to correct her. To say that they are very much a official and serious relationship.

Instead, he freezes on the spot. 

“My pager…” he says pathetically, before turning and abruptly striding out of the room. 

***

All day, Ethan is a black storm cloud drifting sullenly through the rose-colored halls of Edenbrook. 

It’s clear to the rest of the staff that something is wrong, but no one is quite sure what. He hasn’t been in such a bad mood in months, not since he started seeing Camille. The rumor mill churns out a steady stream of speculation, doing nothing to improve Ethan’s mood. 

Finally, Naveen corners him in front of a bulletin board covered in construction paper hearts.

“Do you think I’m enough for her?” Ethan asks, staring pointedly at the board rather than making eye contact with his former mentor. 

“I’m not sure I follow.” Naveen says mildly. 

“She’s so...vibrant. Loving.” Ethan reaches out and touches one of the paper hearts. Camille organized the project, helping every pediatric patient decorate a heart and hanging them up with painstaking care. “I’m the opposite.” 

“Are you?” Naveen asks, “I’ve seen you with her, and you seem happy. You two are good together.” 

“She doesn’t want to spend Valentine’s Day with me,” Ethan admits, feeling foolish even as the words leave his mouth. “Because she thinks I hate it, which I do, of course…” 

“But you wouldn’t hate it with her?” Naveen prompts.

Ethan nods with a rueful smile. He shouldn’t be surprised, the man was considered the best diagnostician in the country for a reason. 

“It’s okay to seek happiness, Ethan. You can let go of the cynicism if you want to.” With that, Naveen turns to leave, but not before pressing a small cardboard box into Ethan’s hand with a wink. 

***

Camille lingers as Baz finishes gathering the last of his papers and shuffles out the door of the diagnostics office. 

Ethan doesn’t look up as he fumbles with the tiny cardboard box in his lap, but he can feel her warmth hovering in front of his desk. He thinks he would know the feel of her even if he was blind, deaf, and dumb. 

Finally, finally, Ethan manages to tear open the little cardboard flap and maneuver his fingers into the narrow opening.

“I’d like to speak with you--” he begins. 

“--Can we talk?” Camille says at the exact same time. 

“I’d like to go first.” Ethan says, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. For my behavior this morning. I have never liked Valentine’s Day, that’s true, but I do like you.” 

He pauses, and glances up at Camille’s face to gauge her reaction. Her expression is soft, and the fond look in her green eyes makes Ethan’s heart stutter in his chest. 

Emboldened, he reaches into the box and sets a piece of candy on the desk with a decisive nod. 

Camille leans over, a curtain of blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she tries to get a better look at the candy heart. 

“Sweet talk?” Her laugh is bright and clear. “Ethan you actually have to try and sweet talk me, this is a cop out!” 

Ethan can feel a hot blush pricking at his cheeks and he shakes his head. 

“No, dammit, that’s the wrong one.” He stands and pours a few more hearts into his hand, ignoring the dusty residue that is surely being shaken all over his desk. It takes a few moments of searching until he finally finds the correct saying on a yellow heart.

“Here,” he says, brusquely handing her the candy.

“Be mine.” She looks back up at him with glittering eyes, her teeth sinking into the soft pink of her lower lip. 

“I know we haven’t defined our relationship yet, but I want to be with you. Officially.” He clears his throat when Camille doesn’t immediately respond. “I understand if you need some time to--”

“Shut up,” Camille breathes, stepping forward until she can loop her arms around his neck. Her command is unnecessary, considering how Ethan has already been rendered speechless by her proximity.

He can feel her smile against his mouth as she meets his lips with her own. He groans as her fingers anchor in the hair at the base of his neck, tugging softly. 

The kiss deepens as Camille’s lips part beneath his, and Ethan’s hands work underneath her blouse, sliding against the bare skin of her back. 

“Is that a yes?” Ethan asks, his voice gravelly as she plants a trail of kisses along his jaw. 

He is thirty-seven years old, and for the first time he has reduced himself to a lovesick adolescent. It’s strange how willing he is to embarrass himself in front of her, how willing he is to do anything for her. 

“Of course it’s a yes! I’ve been waiting forever for you to commit to me.” Camille says with a radiant smile. Ethan cups her face gently.  

“So, what now? I have a standing reservation at a restaurant downtown. I’d like to take you out on a real date.” 

“That sounds nice,” Camille says, toying with one of the scattered candy hearts. “But first, I found this…” 

Cheekily, she holds out the blue candy. 

Kiss me. 

***

Tagging separately!

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 6 ~A Wrinkle in Time~

Previously in The Tethered Ties ...

And when he finally glanced back down at the laptop, he nearly choked. Right there on the screen, peering up at him, was a cantankerous-looking, crocodile Dundee version of Harry. Same eyes, the same face, and though a handsome fellow, this man's skin looked weather-beaten, and he had a scary scowl on his face.

"Jamie," Claire giggled. "I'd like you to meet my uncle ...Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, also known as uncle Lamb."

Ah, holy fuck!  Though uncle Lamb looked like Harry, Jamie knew this man was nothing like Harry. Harry was ...or had been a polite, refined and jolly ol' chap with a very posh accent. This man was far from the polished look Harry presented. This man looked like he'd seen the world and confronted danger and probably wrestled crocodiles as a hobby. Convincing uncle Lamb that he's good enough for Claire was not going to be a walk in a park. Jamie knew he had a long evening ahead as he gingerly sat down in front of Claire's laptop and braced himself.

Jamie cleared his throat and sat up straight. "Good evening, sir ..."

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  Jamie had a dream. It was unlike any other dreams he had before.

He was cycling down a road, the cold wind stinging his cheeks, a plastic container of pastries in one hand. Excitement rose within as he followed the familiar route to Murtagh's house, huffing and puffing when he picked up speed. He was dropping off his ma's freshly baked treats to his godfather, hoping Murtagh would have time to go fishing.

An ear-splitting screech of brakes echoed in the air, along with mangling metal crashing and twisting. 

He stopped. The plastic container dropped from his hand, and his bike collapsed to the ground. He began walking towards the crash site, sensing with every step, he was nearing a metamorphic truth that would change him forever.

Despite the trepidation mounting in his chest, he couldn't stop moving towards the wreck. He quickened his pace and then began to jog, and then he ran. Faster and faster. 

He ran until the breath whooshed out from his lungs in burning gasps, and he slowed to a standstill in front of the harrowing scene that was before him.

The wind picked up, and the clouds dimmed the sun. The acrid stench of burnt rubber and engine oil filled his nostrils. A familiar face appeared through the cracked windshield, calling out his name in desperation. For a second, his heart ceased to beat, and his breath caught in his throat.

Harry?

"Save her ...please ..." 

The plea struck his ears, and he tried to move, but he was stuck on the spot. He twisted his body and stretched out his arms, willing his feet to budge, straining and grunting and chanting a soundless prayer for strength. A piercing scream jolted him out from his struggle, unfettering him from the invisible force holding him in place, almost tumbling over from the abrupt release. He realised they were cries from a child.

He moved towards the car and wrenched the back door open, seemingly the only side still intact from the collision. A child, no more than the age of five with angry red blotches on her cheeks and wild curls, was restrained by the seatbelts. Her pudgy wee arms were outstretched as she screamed on top of her lungs, crying out for her mummy.

He stared in disbelief, immobilised by the uncertainty of his next course of action. 

"Save her, Jamie ..." He glanced up to see Harry's face contorted in pain, eyes imploring. "There's not enough time."

"But ..."

"Go! Take her with you ...Now!"

Spurred by adrenaline and fear, heart pounding against his chest, he began to move. He unfastened the strap across the wean's body and grabbed her from the seat. Wee arms and legs wrapped around him as he spun around and headed for the moor. Holding tight to his bundle, one hand bracing the tiny head pressed against his neck, he ran as fast as he could. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw Harry watching him through the window and then the car exploded.

Jamie woke up lurching upright to a sitting position, his top clinging to his clammy skin and his heart racing like a freight train. Swallowing air in big gulps, he yanked off the duvet and swung his legs out of bed, trying to even his breathing. Then he began to shake as he heard the distant roar from the deep recesses of his brain, and the floodgates of memories swung open in vivid hues. It came in massive waves, raising recollections and visions to the surface that had been submerged under the basement of time. A deluge of dispersed images merged into one, and a stream of realisation emerged. Suddenly everything was as clear as day. Everything that Murtagh had told him of Claire's parents earlier was now clicking into place. The child they'd rescued that fateful day was Claire! Except, in his dream, he'd been the only one to save her.

A cold shiver passed through him when a suppressed but very visual memory of Harry sprung into his head just before the car had exploded. Harry had just regained consciousness and had looked straight at Jamie with a sobbing wee Claire tight in his arms, the look on his face branding his consciousness forever. Though it had been relief carved out on the doomed man's face in knowing Claire would live, it had done nought to appease his soul. He glanced over at the woman beside him. She slept peacefully, her soft snores confirming she hadn't been affected by his fitful sleep.

Reliving the sequence of that event, he remembered now how the horror of that day had haunted him. It had been so bad, he'd been coerced to attend counselling by his mother. Too young to process Harry's demise, he'd literally felt on the edge of a nervous breakdown. After a year of refusing to talk about the ordeal, he'd shifted his focus elsewhere to stop the nightmares. There had been this unabating need to atone for Claire's parents' death, the urge to help and protect growing like a snowball, morphing into an avalanche to flatten and destroy any unpleasant memories and replace them with something good. He'd rescued animals and sheltered them in his father's barn. He'd defended kids against bullies at school. He'd volunteered for causes that involved helping the vulnerable. He'd enlisted to be part of the British Armed Forces, hoping to make a difference to the plights of those afflicted. He'd even gone as far as making a promise to his dying friend, killed in action during his SAS days. Jamie had felt so guilty for his inability to protect his best mate, Simon, he'd asked his friend's widow to marry him. Though thankful now the marriage had never taken place after having met Claire, his efforts to appease his guilt had been a struggle. All these years, he'd buried the horrors of war, the memory of losing Simon and images of Harry going up in flames with layers of what he'd thought were reparations. But what he hadn't known, his failings continued to fester below the surface. It was like a wound that refused to heal.

Had Murtagh's revelation triggered the suppressed memories to resurface? Or did it have something to do with his conversation with Claire's uncle Lamb? His mind wandered to their discussion earlier.

"Jamie," Claire giggled. "I'd like you to meet my uncle ...Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, also known as uncle Lamb. Uncle Lamb, this is Jamie, James Fraser ...my boyfriend. I'm staying with him for at least a week."

"Is that right?" the man on the screen harumphed with a growl as he stuck a thick cigar between his teeth. "Not what I was expecting."

Jamie disregarded the not so subtle dig. "Good evening, sir ..." he began.

Claire laughed. "Don't call him that, Jamie. It's too weird!" She glanced over her shoulder as she walked away. "If he's giving you "the look," don't worry. Uncle Lamb is all bluster."

"I heard that," uncle Lamb grumbled.

"Play nice, then!" she shouted from the kitchen.

Jamie eyed the man on the screen and squared his shoulders. He wished he'd been more prepared for this or at least looked presentable. Instead, he resembled a drowned cat after just having arrived home from work. Claire hadn't told him much about uncle Lamb and wondered if she'd said anything about him to the older man. 

He stared at Harry's look alike. Does uncle Lamb ever smile? Or is that scowl permanently etched on his face? He wasn't sure. Maybe it had something to do with that cigar hanging loosely in his mouth.

Sizing him up, Jamie presumed they're roughly the same breadth, and if uncle Lamb was anything like Harry in stature, they should be the same height too. It's a good thing they were meeting via video conference. If they had been facing each other in person, he might be less inclined to shake hands, seeing how the older man looked like he was capable of committing murder.

An amused Claire came gliding out of the kitchen with a bottle of beer, seemingly unfazed by tension emanating from her laptop screen. "Don't mind his mood, Jamie," she chirped. "He's just grouchy because five of his men came down with food poisoning. And work is being delayed again." 

Uncle Lamb growled. "Don't remind me."

Claire wagged a finger at her uncle before kissing Jamie on the forehead and handing him the bottle. "I'll go prepare dinner."

He took a deep breath as he watched her head back to the kitchen. Uncle Lamb could frown all he wanted. Ultimately, if need be, he would go through twenty uncle Lambs to show the world how serious he was about his relationship with Claire. 

Jamie noticed the older man watching him very closely. 

"So how are ye?"

"I don't like surprises," Quentin announced, obviously wanting to get straight to the point.

"Neither do I," he returned. Facing off each other for a few silent seconds, Jamie deliberately took a slow slug of his beer. He placed the bottle back down on the table and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "But surprises are nothing new to me. I was trained to be prepared against any surprises," he added, referring to his SAS past. 

Quentin ignored the remark. "Claire told me ..." He leaned forward and rolled his khaki sleeves up, exposing tanned sinewy, muscular arms. "...you met just before Christmas."

"That's right, sir ...I mean unc ...I mean Quentin." The older man raised an eyebrow at him, and Jamie raised one back. 

"Things seem to be moving along. Fast!"

"Claire and I have acknowledged that."

"She was there with you only a few weeks ago for her holidays. She's just got back to work. Did you persuade her to come back?"

"She's got a mind of her own."

"Are you serious about her?"

Jamie tried not to look rattled as the older man bombarded him with questions. It was only natural to be concerned about his niece. "Aye, I built her a shed." Ach shite, wrong answer ...what the fuck was that, ye clot-heid? He felt like kicking himself.

Quentin watched him in stony silence. "A shed?"

He inhaled deeply, careful not to show any signs of frustration. "Actually, it's a writing studio," he explained, feeling the heat crawling up his neck. "For when Claire comes over for a visit. She can work undisturbed there. I've even soundproofed the walls, and it's been comfortably furnished ." 

Quentin said nothing. Instead, he slowly placed the cigar on the ashtray, raised his brandy snifter to his lips and drank.

Determined, Jamie pushed on. "Claire has handed her notice to her boss, and once her commitments in London are done, she'll be moving here ...to Broch Mordha." He tamped down the rising emotion from his throat as he thought of Claire preparing dinner for him in the kitchen. "Look, I may not look like the man ye hoped for, for yer niece, but ye dinnae ken me. I admit I come with a lot of baggage, but I'm working hard on it, and she's helped me tremendously in dealing with ..." He trailed off. He didn't want to pull the PTSD card out. This was about Claire, he reminded himself. "I ken her history. I ken she's moved a lot, lived in boarding schools, nae home to go to during the holidays, following ye half-way around the world when school's out. She told me she's never felt any sense of belonging anywhere ..." Quentin glanced away. "I want ye to know, I willnae be just another stopover for Claire. And even if she has to travel long distances to visit ye, she'll always have a place to return to. I have roots here, and I can give her..."

Quentin crossed his arms. "Give her what?"

Jamie cleared his throat. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm serious about taking our relationship further. As ye can see, she's staying here in my home until she goes back to London. Though there is this unspoken understanding between Claire and me, I dinnae want to be presumptuous ..." Jamie rolled his head to ease the tension in his neck. "...in thinking, she will move in with me when she relocates here to Broch Mordha. But I plan on asking her. And it would be verrae nice if ye could give yer blessing and ..."

He shook his head. "No!" His grin was more like a baring of his cigar-stained teeth. "Ask me again in a year."

Jamie ran a hand through his hair. "All due respect, I ken she will say yes when I ask. And I ken she's stubborn enough to make up her own decisions with or without yer blessing. But I'd rather I have it ...for all our sakes. I'm no' sure if ye are aware, but I have my own business that I share with my brother, I own a house, I have no mortgage, and I make enough to provide for both of us with enough left for savings. She can pursue her dream of writing to her heart's content without worrying about finances."

"You overlook the fact that she's a city girl. What if her writing career never takes off? What are her possibilities in the Highlands?"

"Oh, but it will take off. I have faith it will. She's very passionate about pursuing her dream, and rightly so, because she's a talented writer. I can attest to that because I've read one of her finished works."

Quentin's face softened just a tiny bit. "You have?"

"Aye, I have," he hedged. "Claire should have published her work ages ago, and I plan to encourage her to do just that. Her writing would be a wonderful gift to the world."

"You're doing a lot for someone you barely know."

"Quentin," Jamie sighed, swallowing his exasperation. "I'm in love with yer niece. I'm aware everything between us is happening fast, and I dinnae suppose there is a timeframe or formula to follow when it comes to relationships. I'm just winging this and going along with my guts. And my guts are telling me Claire is the one. I still cannae believe someone like her is even real and that she loves me back. I sometimes wonder if I'm dreaming. She brings the best out of me, and I want to do the same for her. So if helping her realise her dreams is all I have to do to keep her, that's what I'll do." 

A few heartbeats of silence and watching each other closely passed before Quentin spoke again. "What did you say your last name was? I didn't quite catch it."

Ach, Christ, he's gonnae do a background check on me! "Fraser," Jamie replied. 

The older man let out an impatient grunt. "Yes, yes, but which Fraser do you belong to? There are a lot of Frasers in the Highlands." 

"My parents are Brian and Ellen Fraser," he replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Quentin's brows knitted together, and his stubbled jaw flexed twice. "You mean Brian and Ellen from Lallybroch?"

Jamie shifted in his seat. "Ye know them?"

"And you're Jamie?" Quentin asked, ignoring his question.

Confusion descended over Jamie as he saw the transformation in Quentin's face. "Aaaye," he said slowly and deliberately. Where in the bloody hell is this going to, now?

"And Claire wants to move in with you?"

"As I've said, I havenae asked her, but I think she would like the idea of us living together. It would make perfect sense since we do love each other."

He grabbed the cigar and pointed the tip in his direction. "You have my blessings." Ignoring Jamie's sharp intake of breath, he tipped back the rest of his brandy. "Conditions are, there should be once a week phone-calls. Video or facetime ones or whatever you call it. And when I'm on British soil ..."

Jamie suddenly straightened up on his seat. "We'll visit, or ye can come and stay with us." 

Quentin shot up on his feet. "Very well then, welcome to the family, Fraser. Go and get your dinner ...you wouldn't want your wife ..." he coughed, his face turning red. "...I mean your girlfriend reheating what she's just lovingly made."

Jamie got up as well, ready to shut the laptop, relief and confusion at the sudden turn around washing over him in waves. What the fuck just happened? Too bewildered for words, "Of course," was all he could muster. 

Quentin hesitated, as if in search of the right words, his throat working overtime. When he finally spoke, Jamie couldn't help but hear the emotion in the older man's voice. "If Claire's father was alive today, he would think his daughter has made a fine choice."

His jaw dropped involuntarily. "He would?" 

There was no reply. Too shell shocked, Jamie stood there staring at the screen for a full minute, long after Quentin had signed off.

When Claire reappeared from the kitchen, she launched herself into his arms and whispered, "Hungry?" 

His bewilderment evaporated, happiness shrouding around him in such a way he knew everything was going to be alright.

Puffing out a breath, Jamie shoved a hand through his hair and made his way to the bathroom. He knew he wouldn't be going back to sleep for a while, so he might as well washed off those vivid dreams of Harry and clear his thoughts of that conversation with uncle Lamb. He felt like he was living in the Twilight Zone and badly needed to get his equilibrium back.

The silence of the night closed in around him until the soothing spray of the shower hit his skin. He wondered if Claire would remember anything from her parents' accident. She'd mentioned a couple of times, she had been five when they passed away. Considering that Claire was now in a happy place, content and well-adjusted, it was probably not the brightest of ideas to conjure up her past. But then, on the other hand, he suspected she might want to know what had happened that day. After all, she did have the right to know her history, no matter how painful. 

The image of Claire's bright amber eyes and husky laughter flashed in his mind. 

Jamie sighed, turned off the shower, and quickly dried himself off. When he realised Claire wasn't in bed, he made his way to the kitchen. He quietened his pace when he found her dropping teabags into two mugs, wearing only his t-shirt and a pair of woollen socks. She didn't hear him approach at first, looking deep in thought as she waited for the kettle to boil.

Moonlight streamed in through the kitchen window, creating a halo out of the wisps of curls framing her face, the whole scene reminding him she was everything he wasn't, a shining light where he watched her in the shadows. Sorcha! A force within spurred him towards her, needing to touch that light, hoping it wouldn't fade with his damaged soul.

"It's late, Sassenach. What are ye doing up?" he asked, walking towards the fridge.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!" she jumped, hands flying to her chest. She tucked a loose curl behind her ears and faced him with a sigh, a small smile slowly forming her lips. "You weren't in bed, so I thought you probably had one of your nightmares. I'm making us some chamomile tea. It helps with sleep and relaxation."

He wasn't sure if this was the time to tell Claire about his dreams, so he dismissed it with a wave of a hand and smiled. "Just a strange dream. Is that one of yer herbal remedies?" he asked, stirring the subject to something neutral.

She lifted a shoulder. "Something like that."

He opened the fridge and found a rainbow of colours of fruits, vegetables, yoghurts and juices. Claire hadn't been kidding when she'd said she went food shopping today. Obviously, root vegetables, eggs, cheese and a container of hummus he'd bought wasn't enough. Smiling, he grabbed a pear and shut the fridge door. "Do pears go with chamomile tea?" 

Her face lit up, making his heart expand. "I suppose so." She poured hot water into the mugs and brought their teas to the dining table, Jamie following close behind her. "And it's good for you. You ought to eat more fruits."

"But you bought enough pears to feed an entire village, Sassenach," he pointed out, biting into the succulent fruit.

Claire giggled as she sat down. "The other bag of pears are for the sticky toffee pear pudding I'm going to make. Uncle Lamb loves making it for me whenever he comes over for a visit. So I thought I'd make some for us. He told me the recipe he uses was from my mum."

The way she smiled fondly at the memory made him want to draw her into his arms, but he took a seat instead. "With pears? I've only ever had normal sticky toffee pudding," he said, sipping some tea. "My ma makes it sometimes."

Her eyes twinkled. "I was told my mum loved to bake. And apparently, according to uncle Lamb, my favourite was cream buns."

Curiosity started to niggle in his belly at the mention of Claire's mother, even though he rebelled against it. Is this the time to talk about the death of her parents? Before he could change his mind, he came straight out with it. "Sorry to change the subject, Sassenach, but I have something to ask. What made ye come to the Highlands every Christmas?" he asked. "Ye mentioned once, ye like coming here during the Holidays. I mean, it's a great place to spend Christmas and all, but is there a particular reason?"

For a long moment, she stared at him with a faraway look. He realised he was holding his breath, half of him already regretting asking the question. There was a possibility her answer could lead to resurrecting a tragic event and snuffing the light out of her. And he needed to bask in her light some more. What was he thinking? Leave the past in the past, Murtagh had told him. He didn't know what lay on the other side of bringing up her parents' death. Either way, Claire didn't need to be dragged down with a sad memory. 

Feeling suddenly foolish, he put down the pear he was eating and reached out to touch her hand. "Ye know what. Dinnae answer that. It's getting late. The tea is working its magic already, and I think I'm ready to go to bed."

A delicate frown marred her brows. "Are you sure you don't want to know?"

Am I sure? No, not really. "Go on, tell me then."

She suddenly beamed like the light that she was. "The reason why I love coming back to the Highlands every year is, this is the place where my parents met and fell in love. I'm not quite sure where exactly, but it was somewhere around here. As far as I know, the Highlands was their happy place where they made loads of happy memories and great friends, and every time I come here, it makes me feel closer to them. You might find it odd, but I do feel most at peace here. There's something that draws me to come every year. Call it gravitational pull or whatever. But it feels like it's my parents' way of sharing their happiness with me. Am I making any sense?"

His breath of relief released in a slow rush, lightness invading his chest, as he realised she didn't remember anything of her parents' death. Or at least he presumed so. But, if it's his burden to carry the truth of Claire's parents' death alone, so be it. Why bring up something dark that has no place in their lives anymore? Maybe one day ...in the far future. Her hand still in his, he stood up, pulling her to her feet before lifting her into his arms. She squealed in surprise. "It doesnae matter if it makes sense or no', Sassenach. If it feels right to ye, then it must mean something. Who knows, maybe the reason ye're probably drawn to the Highlands is that ye were conceived here. Have ye ever thought of that?" 

Claire slipped her arms around his neck and smiled. "Or maybe ..." she leaned in to nibble at his earlobe. "...because I was drawn to ye. Have you ever thought of that?"

Jamie laughed as he started to walk them towards the bedroom. "C'mon off to bed with ye ...I have an early start tomorrow."

Claire eyed him mischievously as she snuggled closer. "To bed or to sleep?"

With a guttural groan, he lowered his head, brushing their lips together as he gave his answer in kisses.

Dear Readers,

I hope this chapter made sense to you. As you might have noticed, I didn't write the events in this chapter in chronological order, and I hope you can understand why I wrote it the way I did. If it didn't make any sense, please, I'm all ears ...ask away, and I'll answer. 

It was a challenge writing the dream part, so I hope I've done it justice. And mostly, I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed seeing the feedbacks in the previous chapter. So a big thank you for that! 

Let me know what you thought about the latest instalment and until the next update, take care of your health and keep up the positive vibes. X  😀❤️

ADDED UPDATE - An explanation to this chapter

I was trying to be clever and do the first two part of this chapter in the reverse order that I may have left you confused than enlightened. I have copied and pasted an explanation to the question posted by one reader in AO3. I hope this will help clarify things. So here goes:  

The dream was brought about by two triggers. First, was Jamie's conversation with Murtagh in Chapter five. Although in Jamie's dream he'd been the one to save Claire, in reality, it had been Murtagh. But it was Jamie who carried Claire to safety after Murtagh instructed him to.  This was the conversation:

Murtagh puffed out a breath. "The last time ye saw Henry, he was in a car accident ...with his family."

"What?" he choked.

Murtagh turned tired-looking eyes on him, and there was a deep sadness in them that startled him. "It was the day they were coming back to Broch Mordha for the first time in years. I heard talks around the village that they've rented a wee cottage from Mrs Baird. And also heard words about a wean. I didnae want to stick around to find out. I thought I'd take a wee trip to Skye and stay there until Henry and his family were gone. I was just packing when ye came barging into my hoose tellin me that a car had smashed to a tree. I came running oot like a gudgeon with ye right behind me. Ye must have been nine or ten. It wasnae far from where I lived then. By the time I got there, Henry was still alive, and Jules was unconscious. He ordered me to get the bairn first and then Jules. My first thoughts were to save Jules, but the wee child was screaming, and Henry was begging me to save her. Between the two of us, we managed to get wee Claire oot, and I ordered ye to take her as far as possible from the site. And that ye did. But I couldnae save Harry and Jules because the car caught fire and Henry lost consciousness. When I smelt gasoline, I had to run, and that's when the car exploded."

The second trigger was brought about by seeing Uncle Lamb's similarity to Harry and also by their conversation via video conference. Towards the end of their conversation uncle Lamb realised Jamie was the young boy who'd carried Claire to safety before the car exploded. Uncle Lamb would have remembered this because he was the only living guardian of Claire and the story of his brothers' demise would have been passed on to him when he came to collect Claire. You will also notice that Jamie found it strange the sudden turn around in uncle Lamb's demeanour at the end of their talk. But Jamie hadn't known the reason for this until after the dream. The dream in a way brought back all the suppressed memories and everything clicked in place together.

Now Jamie is unsure of asking Claire what she knew about the crash and telling her his dreams. Seeing her happy and contented, he didn't want her to relive that past in case more grief than good comes out of it.

I hope I made more sense here. X

[spencessmile]

Let It Out

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Summary - You comfort Spencer after a rough case. 

Warnings - Mentions of gunshots and blood. 

Word Count - 1,617 words

And all imagines/fanfics/blurbs are written solely by me so please don't steal my work and post it without my consent. 

Feedback and Comments are always welcome. Happy reading! 

Requests are open!

**  

It was pin-drop silent on the jet, everyone tangled in their own thoughts after dealing with the recent case. Spencer found himself in the back of the jet, staring out the window, his mind replaying every second of what happened three hours prior. 

** 

"This isn't who you are," JJ said, her gun aimed at the man. 

"You don't who I am!" He shouted. 

"You don't have to do this," Spencer reasoned. "Just let your daughter go and we can talk about this." 

"We don't have anything to discuss!"

"Put your weapon down and we'll tell the DA that you cooperated with us," He heard Emily speak up from behind him.

 Spencer had his gun aimed right between his eyes, their one was only one thing stopping him; the little girl. 

The team's profile was spot on, he was a narcissist and he wouldn't go down with a fight.

"I'll admit it," Spencer said. 

"Admit what?" The man asked, his grip on his daughter getting tighter as he held the gun to her head. 

"That you are a genius," Spencer began. 

"Spencer, what are you doing?" JJ said, without taking her eyes off the man.

"You've been killing people for months and no one noticed but as soon as you found out that the FBI knew it pissed you off because you knew that we were onto you. We disturbed your disposal and hunting ground and it upset you." 

"You ruined everything!" The man spitted out. “It wasn’t supposed to end like this!” He seethe. 

"This isn't who you are," Spencer argued. "You are sick and you need help. I promise if you put the gun down and let your daughter go I will get you the help you need. This doesn't have to end this way. There is a better way," Spencer saw the attitude of the man slightly change as he slowly lowered his gun. 

Just then four police officers barged in, guns pointed at the man. 

"Police! Put the gun down, now!" They shouted.

"Oh," The gun raised his gun again. "Well played agent!" He shouted. "You almost had me let go." 

"PUT THE WEAPON DOWN OR WE WILL SHOOT. PUT IT DOWN!" Spencer heard the officer yell. 

"Not if I do it first." 

"Nooo wai - " 

It was too late. 

** 

Spencer felt someone shake his shoulder, pulling him away from his heavy thoughts. 

"We landed," Hotch said.  

Everyone grabbed their belongings, hopped in the SUV's and drove back to BAU. Once they arrived, Garcia greeted them with hugs at the elevators knowing they were very much needed. 

The team finished up their paperwork in silence. After two hours, Spencer looked at his phone and saw 2 missed calls from you. Spencer and you had plans to stay home and have a nice dinner but that didn't end up happening. Spencer put his phone down and stared at the small picture on his desk of you and him from a couple of months back. 

"I know that look," Spencer looked up to see Rossi standing by his desk. 

"Y/N was going to cook a homemade meal and we were going to spend the night watching movies," Spencer replied. 

"This is the hardest part of the job Spencer." 

"I know," Spencer grabbed his satchel and pushed in his chair. "She's very understanding and never says anything because she knows this is my job. It's just happened too many times." 

"Some days are rougher than others," Rossi put a hand on his shoulder. "It's been a long four days." Spencer nods in agreement. "Do you want to talk about what happened?" 

Spencer shook his head. He didn't want to talk to anyone, he wanted to go home and be with you. 

"I'm fine," Spencer wasn't fine though, he was far from being fine, he felt as though he might drown in his emotions. 

"If you say so," They both took the elevator down and before separating ways Rossi stopped him. 

"Spencer I know you're lying about being okay," Spencer didn't look up at Rossi as he was pushing back his tears. "You need to talk to someone about it, you understand me?" 

Spencer nods. 

"Good," Rossi patted his back. "Now go home because you have an amazing woman who is probably still waiting for you. Goodnight Spencer," Rossi said, getting into his car and driving off. 

** 

You weren't upset at Spencer for being late or not responding to your texts, you knew what you signed up for. At times it could be frustrating because you would call to check-in on Spencer but when you wouldn't get an answer for hours you started to worry. 

Tonight was one of those moments, pacing back and forth in the living room dialing Spencer's phone for the hundredth time. When you got no answer you were about to grab your purse when you heard the doorknob turn. 

Seconds later Spencer came into your view and he looked exhausted. You watch as he drops his keys and Stachel on the floor beside the coat rack. Spencer looked up and noticed you standing there. 

"Thank god yo-" You were cut off by Spencer running to hug you. He crashed into you, causing you to almost lose your balance but you steadied yourself. "Spence, what's wrong?" You asked, wrapping your arms around him. You could tell he was holding his breath. "Breathe, my love," You said. "Come on," You guided him to the couch, where he laid his head on your lap. 

"I'm sorry I missed dinner," Spencer said as you moved some of his hair out his eyes. 

"It's okay my love, I burnt the lasagna so I ended up warming up leftovers." 

"Of course you did." 

"Hey," You said playfully hitting his back." You know I'm not the best cook," He let out a small chuckle. 

"I'm still sorry that I was late." 

"Spence, it's okay. I was just worried when I called you a million times and you didn't answer any of my calls." 

"My phone died." 

"What happened?" You noticed Spencer close his eyes because you could see his reflection in the tv, which was off. "Was it that bad?" Spencer nodded, as he started to slightly shake. "You have to let it go," You spoke. 

Spencer got up from your lap and started to walk away but you pulled at his forearm, halting his steps. 

"I don't want you to hear about this case," Spencer whispered. 

"This case was hard, I can see that," You said, pushing him to sit down again. "Please don't keep this inside of you. It won't do you any good," You pleaded.

Spencer closed his eyes, his mind taking him back to the house. His ears ringed as he could still hear the gunshot go off, the white wall now covered in blood splatter. 

"I couldn't save her." 

Spencer sat back and explained everything to you from the second Garcia presented the case to when they delivered the profile to the last second the gunshot went off. 

"I told him exactly what he thrives off of. He was even lowering his weapon until the cops barged in and everything went downhill from there," You rubbed small circles on Spencer's hand. "He killed his daughter," Spencer's words sent chills down your back. "She was four years old." Tears began to fall from Spencer's eyes. "Four, Y/N." 

Listening to the case broke your own heart but you had to be strong for Spencer. 

"I had the aim," Spencer continued. "I could have put a bullet through his head but I also believe that not everything has to end up in us shooting someone. I ju-just thoug-thought I had him." 

You stayed silent knowing Spencer wasn't finished. 

"I should have just shot him." 

"There was no way you could have known he was going to do that," You said lifting Spencer's head. 

"I did though," He said, almost angry. "I just didn't shoot because I thought if I outsmar-" You wiped Spencer's tears. "She cried for help, as JJ, Emily and I stood there with our guns pointed at him, she cried for him to let go." 

"Spencer you did your job an-" 

"If I did my damn job that little girl would have been alive today!" Spencer yelled you were taken back by his tone of voice. Spencer noticed that you slightly flinched at his tone. "I'm sorry," He said. "I just I don-don't know how I will move on from this. We go out there and sa-" Spencer couldn't even finish his sentence without more tears streaming down his face. 

"Listen to me," He looked up at you. "Despite seeing the horrors that you do every day, you still manage to save lives. Every case may not be a win in the books but you have to learn to be okay with that. Sometimes you won't win and it'll hurt but you'll be okay," Spencer sniffled. You could tell that Spencer was still holding back on his emotions. "You need to let it out.” 

Spencer's head falls in his palms, sobs rack through his body. You wrap your arms around him and he melts into your touch. 

You kiss his forehead. "I love you so much." 

** 

Accept what is, let go of what was, have faith in what will be - Sonia Ricotti

[elitegymnastics]

Q: What is this?

A: It’s a flyer for a virtual fundraiser on June 4th that Elite Gymnastics is playing. You can access the show at quietyear.com

Q: Hasn’t Elite Gymnastics been inactive for like, ten years?

A: Yes. This is the first Elite Gymnastics performance of any kind since November 30th 2012, at the Horn Gallery at Kenyon College in Gambier, Ohio. 

Q: Why did Elite Gymnastics stop playing shows?

A: Elite Gymnastics started out as me (Jaime) and a bunch of my friends agreeing to help me play my songs live back in 2009. I made a lot of weird demos in GarageBand and my friend Dominique Davis from the band Dearling Physique got tired of watching me sit on them. So, he booked me to play at a show he was curating as part of a small local music and arts festival called Clapperclaw. For several months that’s mainly what EG was. At some point the focus shifted to making recordings rather than playing shows, to participate in the emergent culture of new music distributed via MP3 file-sharing. The lineup winnowed to just me and Josh Clancy, who began creating digital EPs that we posted on this Tumblr page as ZIP files full of MP3s accompanied by a PDF of artwork. This is the incarnation of the group that most people are familiar with.

This was before Patreon existed. If Bandcamp was around, we’d never heard of it. Though MP3 file-sharing culture and file transfer sites like MediaFire and MegaUpload allowed anyone to distribute music freely across the world via the internet, it was still pretty difficult to get people to pay you for it. I think it was for this reason that a lot of internet music back then featured a lot of sampling. A lot of artists’ first forays into the world of DAWs and production took the form of mash-ups, bootleg remixes, and DJ mixes. Artists like Animal Collective, MIA, Kanye West, and Daft Punk for whom sampling was a pillar of their creative process were extremely influential. Elite Gymnastics was no exception - the first song of ours to gain traction online was “Is This On Me?” which made no attempt to hide the fact that it heavily sampled Faye Wong’s “Eyes On Me.” The fact that it was so difficult to make money off MP3s pushed people to make different creative decisions than they would have otherwise. It was sort of a free-for-all.

Eventually, all of this started to change. The major labels started getting a lot more aggressive about trying to destroy MP3 file-sharing culture. Platforms like MegaUpload were raided and taken offline. The replacements that sprung up to replace them were increasingly infested with ads and malware. Corporate platforms like YouTube and SoundCloud adopted Content ID filters to prevent the proliferation of copyrighted music there. Blogs and private torrent trackers being taken down meant thousands of hours of labor were wiped out in an instant. Some of the best archives of the history of recorded music ever created were destroyed without hesitation. Even the most devoted participants lost the will to keep repairing and re-making the stuff that cops and record companies kept obliterating.

Josh and I both dreamed of being able to make a living as musicians. We still do. Back then, we were willing to accept a lot of changes in order to make that possible, which seemed necessary. A lot of the stuff that we were great at just didn’t make any money. Once, we were asked to do a remix of a song called “Sa Sa Samoa” by the band Korallreven. I did the remix by myself, which was normal for us, and Josh was so inspired by it that he spent a week working non-stop to create a video for it. People loved it - the day the video dropped, Pitchfork designated the song as a “Best New Track” and New York Magazine wrote about it in their “Approval Matrix.” The video led to a ton of exposure, but from a financial perspective, it just did not make sense to put that much effort into promoting a remix of someone else’s song. The stuff we were personally excited by just seemed to have less and less to do with what actually makes money.

A lot of internet bands during this era began to palpably shapeshift in an effort to succeed in music as a career. Artists who’d first attracted notice for sample-based bangers they made on a laptop started posing with vintage hardware in their press photos and trading in their laptops for live bands and recording studios. It became harder to distribute DJ mixes or mash-ups that contained copyrighted music in them. Influential bloggers either closed up shop or were absorbed into the traditional music industry in some way. Feeds that once touted bizarre songs by laptop-toting weirdos with no industry connections started to become populated mostly by artists with labels and publicists. The bottom rungs of festival lineups started to consist mostly of new major label signings who have lots of money to spend on stage production but not much in the way of grassroots fan enthusiasm or media buzz. 

Internet music and what people tend to refer to as “indie music” split off into two separate streams. Today, there’s a pretty intense firewall between internet culture and whatever you want to call the culture of vinyl records, mid-sized indie labels with publicists, and positive reviews from the few remaining websites that still pay people to write about music. I call it “publicist indie,” “lifestyle techno,” or “prestige electronica” depending on whether or not the music features guitars and/or vocals. The recent online kerfuffle about NFTs really emphasized this split. The worlds of digital illustration and game development campaigned aggressively against mass adoption of cryptocurrency - if you saw any Medium posts explaining crypto’s environmental issues, chances are they were written by someone from those fields. Every new announcement by an artist that they had minted an NFT was met with a swift and vocal backlash from fans. Though I’ve never really been much of an Aphex Twin fan, it was still pretty startling to look at the replies under his NFT announcement tweet and see hundreds of furious people announcing that he was now dead to them. That’s an artist who has seemed more or less unimpeachable for most of my life up until this point! All of that seemed to change in an instant.

There is a massive disconnect between the insular world of the industry establishment and the cutting edge of online counterculture. We saw this again a couple of weeks ago with the online response to the crisis in Gaza. We saw passionate advocacy for Palestinians from games journalists and developers much more often than we saw it from musicians. This is a very serious problem for music! I do not believe it is possible to please both sides - that is to say, I do not believe it is possible to be part of internet counterculture and the industry establishment simultaneously. The music industry is too conservative, too compromised, too corrupt. If it weren’t for the ocean of valuable copyrights that labels are sitting on, most of them would be bankrupt within a year. If the industry was forced to live or die based on how they handle what’s happening right now in the present, it would most assuredly die. The only people who don’t realize this are those who are being paid to stay ignorant. 

Josh and I did not know this back then. From where we were standing, it looked like internet culture and established media industries were on track to converge. A career in the arts seemed genuinely, tantalizingly possible, right up until the moment that it no longer did. 

In my case, I had really been struggling up until that point. My life had been this ongoing sequence of evictions and hospitalizations, and it seemed to be getting worse, not better. I donated plasma twice a week to pay for groceries and while I was sitting there with a giant needle stuck in my left arm for an hour I would see my picture in The Fader or my songs being recommended by one of the Kings of Leon on Twitter or whatever. Music seemed like the only thing the world thought I was any good at. It felt like my only chance at a peaceful, happy life was somewhere out there in a world I could only perceive through a laptop screen. 

Gender, for me, was a big factor in all of this. The more invested in the craft of songwriting I became, the harder it was to repress or ignore my gender stuff. At that time I’m not sure I even knew what the word “transgender” meant - I just knew that when I showed up at a venue wearing a skirt, no one would talk to me or look me in the eye, and that reading about people like Anohni or Terre Thaemlitz or on the internet made me feel like if I could get out of Minneapolis maybe I could find a place where people would accept me. The internet was like, a pretty toxic place for someone in my position. When I tried to find people to talk to about what I was feeling, nobody tried to tell me to read Judith Butler or ask me what pronouns I preferred. The internet was just like, overrun with predators who just wanted to fetishize me and exploit me. Music seemed like the only way I’d ever have an actual life as myself. I was desperate for that. I was well and truly desperate.

Between all the big changes that were happening to us individually and the music industry moving farther and farther away of the anarchic free-for-all of MP3 file-sharing culture, the strain on us just got to be too much. We stopped trusting each other. We became the unstoppable force and the immovable object, crashing haphazardly against one another’s resolve in a dazzling display of youthful futility. Our partnership ended, and after finishing out the remaining live shows on the calendar by myself, I retired the name “Elite Gymnastics” and started making music on my own under other names. That was that.

Q: Why is Elite Gymnastics coming back now, then?

A: Over the years, Josh and I eventually started talking again. Though there was a lot we did agree on, and potential future projects were discussed, nothing truly felt right. We haven’t been in the same room since Summer 2012, and we’ve both changed a lot since then. We both have other projects and we’ve both developed other ways of working since we stopped working together. It’s a pretty big commitment to put all of that aside in order to join your fortunes together with someone you haven’t seen in a decade.

Recently, Josh decided to leave Elite Gymnastics. His reasons are his own, and I was very surprised by his decision, but after having had time to adjust, I’m really grateful to him. I had kept these songs at a distance for many years, because it seemed foolish to allow myself to get too attached to songs I didn’t feel like I was allowed to think of as mine, if that makes any sense. The songs felt like casualties of a conflict that I had to bury in the ground and try to forget about. Being able to embrace them again felt like re-growing a severed limb or having a loved one come back to life, almost. Feeling like it was safe to love these songs again made me feel whole in a way I didn’t expect to. I became really excited by the prospect of revisiting them, so that’s what I decided to do.

Q: Does this mean you’re going to put RUIN back on Spotify?

A: No. Taking the record off Spotify was the right thing to do. That record was only ever intended to exist during the era of MP3 piracy. I never envisioned a world where the music industry would be so aggressive about policing the way that copyrighted music is allowed to exist online. If we hadn’t opted to take the record down when we did, someone would inevitably have forced us to. If you want to hear those specific recordings again, you’re going to have to do it the way we originally intended: by downloading MP3 files from the internet. Try SoulSeek.

Q: What’s next for Elite Gymnastics, then?

A: Here’s the situation currently. There is no Elite Gymnastics music available to stream or purchase in an official capacity anywhere on the internet. It wouldn’t really be possible for me to put the old stuff on Spotify or Bandcamp now because of all the samples. Like I said before, it was a different time. Those records were created to thrive on a past version of the internet that no longer exists. They weren’t designed to be compatible with the 2021 internet.

Technically, Elite Gymnastics didn’t ever release a debut album. We had EPs, a compilation, and a remix collection. We didn’t make an album, a record that existed as the distillation of all that experimentation that contained all of the songs that fans of the EPs would want to hear, all in one place. It’s like we did Good Fridays but stopped before we made My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy.

So, I am currently working on the first Elite Gymnastics album. If you were following my stuff as Default Genders, you may have noticed me posting demos on my SoundCloud page from 2015-2018 that were all eventually reworked into the album Main Pop Girl 2019. The album I am making is taking that approach to all the old EG songs, including some unreleased stuff. I’m collaborating with others on some songs and I honestly feel like it has resulted in some of the best and most exciting music I have ever been involved with. It is a drastic reinvention, but iteration and reinvention have always been a big part of what I do. I want to make something that feels like the culmination of everything that came before, and so far, I think I’m succeeding.

Q: When will I be able to hear this new music?

At a virtual fundraiser on June 4th, 2021, where there is a suggested donation of $10. You can access it at quietyear.com

[somucherry]

Show Recommendations Non-Thai BL:

A list of shows I’ve watched or am currently watching (Aka not including things I haven’t started yet) for @zouisalmightie 

China- The Untamed (50 Episodes, Netflix, Viki, WeTv):The series follows the adventures of two soulmate cultivators who travel to solve a series of mysteries that link to a tragic event in the past.  Plot heavy story, Lots of characters, due to Chinese censorship lots of homoerotic symbolism and subtext. The leads of the show sing the OST and it's beautiful, Wang Yibo and Xiao Zhan are both members of Idol groups. Korea- Where Your Eyes Linger (9 Episodes, Youtube, VikiPass): The series follows a chaebol and his friend/unofficial bodyguard. This is one of Korea's first forays into BL series. It's short, but has decent pacing and plot.  Mr. Heart (9 Episode, Youtube, VikiPass): The series follows two boys, one that is training/running a marathon, and the other who is his pacemaker (helps him stay in the same pace). It's short, sweet and to the point. I'm really fond of one of the boys because he was on Produce X 101. Philippines- Gameboys (13 Episodes, Youtube): First Bl Drama to come from the Philippines. Follows a live-stream gamer and his fan—who found each other online during the 2020 COVID-19 pandemic and the Luzon Island community quarantine. This one is a bit cheesy at first but does get better, it is however a little bit sad (TW. a death due the pandemic, not the leads.) A season 2 is in the works. Hello Stranger (8 Episodes, Youtube): Amidst the lockdowns due to the COVID-19 pandemic, two college boys cross paths for a school project. Jock/Nerd Trope/Hate to Love. I actually enjoyed this one more than Gameboys, but I'm in the minority I think. The leads have amazing chemistry (or kilig in Tagalog). A movie is in the works. 

In Between (14 Episodes, Youtube): The most important part in a relationship is not the hello or the goodbye but the In Between.  This is about the boys' love (BL) story of Taurus and Otep. Friends to Lovers Trope. While the show is mean’t to be about Taurus/Otep I actually fell in love with the sidestory of Ronin and Makisig more. And I was disappointed that in the end we didn’t get really much of anything for them (unless there’s a planned season 2 that I somehow missed knowing about.) 

My Day (11/14 Episodes, (Airing Currently), Youtube): A romantic comedy series about a young determined culinary intern named Sky making his way into a multi-billion-dollar food company and his boss Ace. Some of this show didn't really hit the mark ie. the writing was very lacking amongst other issues for me but I'm sticking it out because the leads have amazing chemistry and I'm glad I did because it has one of the best intimate scenes that has come from a show this year. (I'm still very much not over it) Quaranthings (7/8 Episodes, (Airing Currently), Youtube): follows the friendship of two boys, and the love that will blossom between them while on community quarantine. Roommates to Lovers Trope. I'm really enjoying this drama even though it makes me want to bang my head on the wall, Judah's character irritates me (also in the minority here). GAYA SA PELIKULA aka Like in the Movies (5/8 Episodes, (Airing Currently), Youtube):  tells us about Karl, a 19-year-old recluse architecture student in the middle of an identity crisis and his new roommate. This just started so I don't have much thoughts about this one so far, but it's been decent.

I have other BL’s I would include but I wasn’t sure if you’ve already seen them (Skam, Yuri on Ice, american BL’s Etc.) I also plan on doing a post about Thai BL’s but there’s to many to include on this post. 

[mrstarkidontfeelsogood1603]

Nightmares

This can't be real. Peter thought. No, he knows it. He is standing in that warehouse again with the Birdguy. He is talking to him and everything is happening like the last time. The guy is sending his wings towards Spiderman, but also not really to him. The problem is that Peter realized this just a few seconds to late. He knows what's about to happen next, but instead of changing something it all happens the same again. The problem is that Peter then realized he can't move. He just can't move his legs to run away, when the warehouse is falling on him. It feels ten times badder than the last time and so real. He can smell the dust and need to chough a few times. 'Why is it happening again?' Peter asked himself. He still can't move under the building and this time didn't bring the strength to even lift it. He was stuck. He also couldn't breath, there was to much dust around him. He just couldn't.

Suddenly the location switches and Peter is on Titan again. And again there is the dust, this time not only in his lungs. He also can feel himself turn to it. But this time he is alone. Mr. Stark isn't by his side. He is in fact also there but standing a bit away and watching the boy angry. 'I told you not to come!' He yells. 'Why can't you just act this one time like an adult? Huh? Oh wait I forgot because you're just a kid. It was wrong bringing you to the Avengers. I mean look at you! You're just a dumb kid!' Peter could feel the tears burning in his eyes and falling down his dry skin.' Oh wow, now he is crying... What are you? Four? Do you want to run to your mommy? Oh wait.. I forgot.. ' He looks the Spiderling dead into the eyes.'She's dead. Like your dad and uncle. Because of YOU' Peter couldn't help it anymore. Now he is crying and sobbing like a litte kid. He still can feel the building, that wasn't even there anymore, on top of him, as well as himself turning to dust. Slowly and painful this time.

He can't breath anymore. It all felt so real. He can't handle it anymore. He was right, Mr. Stark thought about him as a failure. As a mistake to take him in.

'' Boss, it seem Mr. Parker ist experience a panic attack as well as a nightmare. His heartbeat is way over the normal and he is struggling breathing. I would suggest you go checking him. ''

Tony, of course, was already on his way to the boys room. Worrying about his kid.

When he came to his door and opened it, Tony could see Peter wimmering in his sleep and crying. He was also breathing very fast, like he couldn't get enough air and at the same time like there was no in his room.

Tony hated to see his kid like this and sat beside him on his bed. Peter just cried more and more and Tony wished he would knew what caused the boy so much trouble sleeping. He gently touched Peters shoulder and started shaking it. '' Hey, Underoos. Wake up please, it's just a dream. You're safe.''

Peter suddenly jumped awake and tried to reconized his soroundings. He still felt like he couldn't breath and heard his family in his ear. Still whispering what kind of a failure he was and that most of them where happy to be dead already. As he felt a hand touching his arm he jumped from the bed, to the corner of the other side in the room, to get away. Then he realized that it was Mr. Stark who touched him, still sitting on his bed, looking sad at Peter. '' Hey Pete, it's just me. Come here its over, nothing is going to happen to you. '' As much as he wished to crawl back into his bed and believing what his mentor said, he couldn't. Peter still would see Mr. Stark looking at him like he was dirt, a failure, a mistake to trust him, but most importantly just a kid.

Tony flinched when Peter shook his head in his corner and turned away, starting to cry again. He stands up trying to get to the boy and help him up, when said boy whispered. '' Please, I'm sorry. I know I'm just a dumb kid and you can have the suit back. I know I'm not good enough for it. I'm so sorry Mr. Stark about what a burden I am to you. '' Tony looked at Peter and couldn't believe what he just heard. What did he said? Where did that come from? '' Pete please, listen to yourself. Whatever your thinking, it isn't true! You're not a burden to me and you are definitely the only person worth it wearing this suit. More than anybody else! I beg you, please just stand up and come here to me. Let me help you. '' Peter looked at the man, tears still streaming down. This time all he could see in his eyes was sadness and confusion. He wasn't angry anymore at him. So Peter slowly stood up, leaning against the wall for support, his legs shaking from exhaustion. He tried to go to his bed but tripped because of his weak legs, but Mr. Stark catched  him. '' Whoa Pete. Slow it down, come here. '' They both sat down and Tony hugged him thigtly. Peter, still unsure what to think, accepted the hug and snuggelt into his mentors T-shirt.

It smelled so much of Tony, that Peter couldn't feel different, but save. He realized that all of what had happend where just  bad dreams. Nothing really real, or at least not for the moment. He started crying again, silently this time. But Tony still reconized at the wetness of his shirt. He tried to relax Peter while stocking the boys curls. '' What was it about? FRIDAY told me that you had a bad dream which also caused some kind of panic attack. Wanna tell me what happend? '' Peter nodded slowly, but he still needed time and that was what the man gave him. Enough time till he was conftable to speak. Which took like another thirty minutes.

They where lying in Peters bed now, Tony still hugging the younger one. While Peter also still tightly gripped the man's shirt. '' I had a very bad dream. '' Peter started, Tony listening. '' I was with the Vulture again, but couldn't move. The warehouse fell on me again, and I still couldn't move or even breath. Everything was so dusty and then it changed.'' Tony listened patiently at the boys story, feeling sad for him to relive that all over again. '' It suddenly changed and I was on Titan again. Turning to dust but slowly this time and much more painfully. I didn't even thought that was possible. And then... then there where you, standing in front of me.'' He breathed slowly to calm himself before he started speaking again. '' You where saying this things... '' The boy sniffed again. ''What did I say, Underoos?'' Tony asked gently. He of course already had an idea what was coming now and didn't want to force his kid, but he needed to know. '' You.. You said these things about.. about m-me. You.. you sa-aid that I was just a dum.. dumb kid and that it was a.. a mistake taking me to the avengers.'' He sniffed again, and tears started falling again silently. How could someone cry so much in such a short time? Tony thought. He was so sorry for his kid, but also felt like that this wasn't all. '' Did I said something else to you Pete? '' The Spider boy needed a moment but then started again. '' You also said, after I started crying, if.. if.. I wanted.. to-.. to go run..  to my.. my mommy... and then you talked.. about all... all of them being happy.. not needing to live at my side.. anymore.. '' Oh dammit. that where horrible things Peter's mind was showing him. The boillionare couldn't belive it. '' Oh Pete.  That is so horrible. I'm so, so sorry for you. But I hope that you know that all of it was just a dream, right? I would never say such mean things towards my favourite kid. You know that right? '' Peter nodded again. '' Yeah, I know. ''

After a little while longer Peter was finally totally calmed down and half alseep, when Tony wanted to go back to the labs. The man slowly tried to stand up, without interrupting Peter to much when he heard the boy saying. '' Please stay. Just tonight.'' He tought about it, when Peter again whispered. ''Please dad. I need you.'' Okay now he was definitely staying. ''Sure thing kid. Just move a bit to the side for me yeah?'' He did as told and snuggled again at Tonys chest. Before exhaustion could knock both of them out, Tony mumbled. ''Night kid, love you.'' As a response he just heard the boy snoring and then fell asleep himself.

[tsipasce]

Same Difference ch. 15

A/N: this thing fluffier than mf pancakes

That first night Nanami was awoken by the sound of the front door and a heavy sigh from a familiar voice. She glanced at the clock to see it was 2:30 am, a feeling a bit of empathy as she remembered all the 12-hour shifts she pulled, only to return to an empty place and heat up leftovers from the night before. He was probably doing the opposite of ~*saving lives*~ during his long shifts, but the sentiment remained. She heard him walking into the kitchen as the steps on hardwood turned to tile and he opened the pantry then subsequently the microwave. By 3:15 am she heard his shower going as she fell back asleep, wondering how he kept up with this schedule, his consistent grumpy mood suddenly making more sense.

By morning Nanami’s alarm for 5:30 am began blaring and she hurriedly shut it off, knowing they were only a room apart, but not how heavy a sleeper he was. Hoping she hadn’t awoken him, she quietly went through her morning routine and slipped into her workout gear. Since her training, she’d gotten back into running, and morning jogs were the only ones she had the time or energy for. On paper, any kind of jogging sounded tedious, but she found a certain peace in being able to clear her mind and get the blood flowing before beginning her day. Grabbing her headphones and phone, she quietly opened the door to her room before gently closing it. She crept down the hallway, looking back to his room to find the door still closed. He must be asleep still. Better make this quick. She thought before continuing down the hall. The sun was streaming in, but the kitchen and living room lights were off, further strengthening her confidence. As she rounded the corner, she sa— “Aggh!” There he was with his back turned, leaning on the counter. He had on a baseball cap, dust mask, sweatshirt and gym shorts with compression tight underneath, all black.

Overhaul calmly turned his head at the sudden noise as though he’d been expecting it, “You didn’t really think I wouldn’t notice you leaving, did you?”

“Wha—no, way. I was just gonna…” his bored expression let her know that whatever half-baked explanation she planned on selling, he wasn’t buying it, “Ok, you caught me.”

“You cannot be outside alone. What part of ‘there’s a price on your head’ are you not getting?”

A defeated look crossed her features as she realized he was right. For at least a couple weeks, she needed to lay low. It wasn’t an unreasonable request, and she knew it. “You’re right…” She began as she turned to go back to her room.

“Where are you going?”

The question caught her off-guard as she turned, confused, “To change?”

“I had plans to go on a run myself. You can join, if you behave.” He said plainly, as he headed to the doorway to put on his shoes. In any other circumstance she’d complain about being treated like a child, but considering she’d literally just gotten caught trying to sneak out like a teenager, she thought it best to spare him the retort and herself the hypocrisy.

“…Fine. Lead the way~”

“And leave the earphones, you need to be alert.”

“Yes, sir.” She responded simply.

He stopped, quickly turning to her, a dark look in his eyes. Seemingly coming back from wherever his mind went in that moment, he cleared his throat before turning back and adjusting his hat to cover more of his now-flushed face. “Let’s… let’s just go.”

Note to self: The magic words are not ‘please’ and ‘thank you’, but ‘yes sir’. She gulped.

They walked out of the main door and past the courtyard to the street. Looking at his watch he set a timer and they began their jog. The sun was still rising, and the air was fresh as it filled her lungs. The neighborhood was quiet, and the streets were empty, the only sounds being the morning birds and her own breath as they began their third mile.

 Hold up, where is—she thought as she looked over to see him still there. She knew he had to be in better shape than her given the fact that he fought so frequently, but he was running as though they had just begun, not a shred of fatigue on what was visible of his face. It was slightly off-putting seeing someone she knew had a whopping 2 hours of sleep run a couple miles without breaking a sweat. She on the other hand was beginning to tire. Slowing down she breathed heavily as he raised a brow at her questioningly.

“You’re…” She breathed, her hands above her head as she continued, “you’re like an electric car or something… How?” She panted, trying to cool down.

“None of that made sense.” He deadpanned, still jogging in place.

“Ugh, I’m trying to say, how are you not tired yet? I haven’t heard a peep out of you this whole time.”

“Practice and overhaul. Get through 5 miles without being this winded and I’ll consider teaching you.”

“Nothing is ever easy with you, is it?”

“Says the woman who makes a game out of defying me.”

Gasping, she dramatically put her hand across her chest, “Just because it’s true, doesn’t mean you have to say it! Besides, you invite confrontation.”

“I what?” He asked incredulously.

Just as they were about to continue bickering, a voice cut them off. “It’s a bit early to be carrying on like this, isn’t it?”

Seeing the old man from the day before, Nanami immediately felt embarrassed, having shown the stranger a less-than-flattering side of herself twice in such a short span of time. “We’re so sorry for the noise, that was my fault.” She bowed trying to apologize. Just as she was about to check for Overhaul’s reaction, she saw him doing the same.

“My apologies. We won’t be a bother again.” There wasn’t a trace of sarcasm or irritation in his voice and it sounded almost foreign to her.

Well, he does have manners, so I guess it’s not that surprising… she reasoned to herself.

“That’s quite alright, for someone my age, it’s nice hearing you young folk being so spirited.” He looked between them before continuing, “How would you two like to have a morning cup of tea with me?”

Before Nanami could find a way to wiggle out of it, Overhaul responded, “Of course, we’d be delighted.”

They stood back up, the older man already turning to go inside. Nanami turned to him mouth “what the hell are you doing?” as she didn’t want to get the man involved, not knowing how misplaced her concern was. He simply sighed, seemingly resigned to this tea break as he motioned for her to go inside. She could tell he knew something she didn’t, but reluctantly went ahead as he followed close behind through the front gates of the house.

The courtyard was very similar to that of the front house used to enter the base, except it felt homier upon entering. It was quiet and serene, as the melodic clank of the deer scare echoed and a stream of water ran into a small pond, the morning birds sparing an odd note or chirp in the background. Now cooling down from their run, she could feel the fall air crisp in her lungs once again as she took a moment to appreciate the scene.  The wrap-around porch had cushions and a tea set laid out as though he was expecting guests. Nanami was suspicious of the coincidence but couldn’t bring herself to feel threatened with her partner being so calm. At the end of the day, she was confident she and Overhaul could handle an ambush between them, but this didn’t feel like an attack, at least not for her.

“Please, have a seat.” The man smiled warmly as they obliged. Nanami was still unsettled at seeing her lab partner so placid and cooperative with another person. Must be trying to keep up a cover or something… I’ll have to be a barrier to make sure Mr.NoseyNeighbor doesn’t dig too deep and get himself in trouble with bird brain over here. This sweet old man has no idea what he’s gotten into…She thought to herself. The man poured them their cups and she clasped it with both hands, savoring the warmth as she sipped. “So, do you spend this much time with all of your patients or just the ones that are ‘particularly needy’?”

Nanami almost choked, registering the question and possible insinuation. Ok, what the fuck. Not-so sweet, after all... She used the cup as a shield, drinking as she regained her composure to answer, “I’m not sure what you mean, but I take care of all my patients equally based on what their condition demands.”

“Ah, I see. I wish I had a doctor as involved as you. Tell me, what hospital did you say you worked for again, Dr. Watanabe?” He asked innocently sipping his tea, but maintained eye contact.

“I didn’t. It’s funny, I also didn’t mention my name either. People in this neighborhood usually keep to themselves from what I’ve seen.”

“And I assume you’ve seen a lot.”

“No more than someone of your tenure has, I’m sure.” She smiled easily, determined not to lose this quasi-confrontation. She could feel her grip on the teacup tightening until Overhaul cut in.

“I think that’s enough, Pops.” He said, a tinge of exasperation in his voice.

Her head snapped to look over at Overhaul, wide-eyed. “POPS”??

The older man’s stern face and calculating smile were replaced with one of genuine amusement and a hardy chuckle. “Oh, I just wanted to test her mettle a bit. I’ve heard so much about her, but we’ve never had the chance to formally meet.”

“POPS” LIKE A DAD? LIKE HIS WHOLE ASS FATHER??

“Well, here we are. Boss, Dr. Nanami Watanabe. Dr. Watanabe, Boss.” He motioned between them. Her heart still finding time to skip a beat at the sound of him saying her given name for the first time.

Wait, Boss too? I’m… it’s too early for this. She lamented inwardly at her growing confusion before gathering her face, trying to seem unsurprised and unbothered by the introduction, though she was still hesitant. Is this another manipulation tactic?

“It’s alright, please relax, doctor.” He assured, seeing the skepticism on her face, ”I’m fully aware of your involvement in our organization. Though I do appreciate your caution. It puts me at ease knowing your prudence when discussing the Shie Hassakai extends even to me.” He chuckled.

“Oh, my apologies. It’s a pleasure to meet you sir,” she replied, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she realized there wasn’t a crisis to be averted, at least not the one she thought.

“No need to apologize, I’m just grateful to have you over. Chisaki speaks so highly of you, it’s nice to be able to put an in-person face to the name.” At this she cautioned a glance only to see him very preoccupied with watching the deer scare. “Chisaki” huh…

“Oh, does he now? He’s usually so quiet when we’re working together.”

“Except for the occasional smart remark, I’m sure.”

She tried to stifle a giggle, “You really are his father then. If it’s not that, there’s certainly a ‘can’t you be serious for one second?’ thrown in there if I even attempt a joke myself.” She said in her best Overhaul impersonation voice.

The Boss let out a hardy laugh, “Well, we’re not related by blood,” at this a look of surprise crossed her face. “But that does indeed sound like my son.”

Realizing her expression had been misread, she clarified, “Oh no, I didn’t— what I mean to say is that my parents adopted me too, so I understand what you mean.” She smiled sincerely, though there was a fragment of sadness in her features Overhaul noted as he glanced over at her when she wasn’t looking. Wanting desperately to change the subject, she looked around the courtyard, “Anyway, you have a lovely home. I’m impressed your hydrangeas are so lush during this time of year, I’m having a real hard time with mine.”

He perked up, more than happy to explain the ins-and-outs of his gardening techniques. He rose to show her around, the both of them crouching and inspecting the plants in the courtyard as pops gave her the life story and history of each plant. It was odd to think that she was having a casual conversation with The Boss himself, but figured it was best to play it cool and keep things light and genuine. She made sure to maintain a healthy level of respect while addressing him, but the interaction flowed easily. For a moment she was able to forget her situation and just enjoy a morning tea while listening intently as he spoke about all matters horticultural.

Still on the porch, observing the pair, there was a warmth creeping into Chisaki’s chest. Bloodshed, murder, brutality—those were familiar, but this… was different. Not in the mood for self-reflection, he pulled his mask down and sipped the tea, enjoying the view without questioning it. Her hands gently grazed the petals, her gaze soft as the rising sun illuminated her features, a warm smile across her face. He cleared his throat, careful not to articulate the thoughts that crossed his mind. Careful not to acknowledge just how nice it would be to become used to this visage. He made a mental note to create a garden of his own to help facilitate this new wish, but for now, there was work to be done. Like clockwork, his phone rang, stirring him from his thoughts and he knew it was time to go.

After a brief call, he pocketed the device, standing up and walking over to them. Pops noticed and took the cue, “Well, it looks like duty calls. It was lovely to finally meet you, Dr. Watanabe.”

“The feeling is definitely mutual. Thank you for the tea and gardening tips, I’ll be sure to update you on the progress of my green thumb, whenever it shows up.” She gave a small laugh as she rubbed the back of her neck, a bit embarrassed at telling him how many plants had gone to die at her place.

“I look forward to it, and to seeing more of you around here. I know others feel the same.” He glanced over to Overhaul who averted his gaze like a reticent child at the remark.

They gave courteous bows before leaving, heading back in the direction of his house. There was a marked silence between them as they jogged this time. She had a million questions but couldn’t bring herself to ask even one as they arrived and entered the house. Lost in thought, she continued walking until she almost bumped into him as he stopped in the hallway. Looking over his shoulder, he addressed her “You know, there’s no turning back now.”

“I think we crossed that bridge a while ago,” she tittered before looking up to see his gaze soft and almost anxious to hear her response.  “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.” She assured, referring only partly to her commitment to keep a low profile until the bounty could be resolved. If she was being completely honest with herself, there was an insinuation she hoped he wouldn’t miss; that he wouldn’t reject. Both exhaling a long-held breath, he nodded, heading down the hallway to his room, a faint smile forming behind his mask.

[ppatpranss]

GAYA SA PELIKULA EP. 02 Review: Let’s talk about that dinner scene.

“May nahanap ka na bang mauuwian?”

I always have this kind of fear over a series that I already liked in the first episode: a fear that the second one will not live up to it, and so will the rest. But Gaya Sa Pelikula on its second episode did not disappoint, and instead set a whole new pace that further strengthens the story it wants to tell. In this episode, you get easy banters, hilarious make-believe and intriguing fantasies, heartwarming softness, a piercing tension at every turn, that very subtle buildup of romance, and of course, that wonderful conversation on the dining table.

Early warning that I have been gushing about the dinner scene since last night, so it will take up a lot of space in this review/discussion.

[WATCH EPISODE 02 HERE]

What sets Gaya apart

Every time I watch an episode of this show and would rewatch it, I am always overwhelmed with the amount of observations I am able to write down. There are a lot of elements that make this such a good watching experience, and all of those elements just naturally come together. By this, I mean that it does not rely solely on, say, just directing or writing or acting. All of these come together, and I appreciate that you can clearly see how well-thought out everything is.

Episode 02 is a lot more free-flowing and non-structured in my opinion. Transitions feel a lot smoother this time compared to the more scene-after-scene approach of the (no less incredible) pilot episode. Because of this, I actually feel like this point is the real beginning of the story – that this sets the tone for a lot of the future events that could possibly happen between Karl and Vlad, and the people in their lives.

Personally, this is what sets Gaya apart not just among the BL series, but also in Philippine TV in general. For the longest time, we got used to stagnant or repetitive conflicts. Sometimes all the drama are injected to overwhelm the audience. But this one takes its time well. This is a show that wants to bring its audience along its every journey.

Parallels, heartbreaks, buildups

The opening scene picks up where we left off, with Ate Judit now writing a check for Karl’s rent because Vlad will stay over. She reminds Karl that while she’s a cool sister, she won’t stand for her brother getting hurt again. With this, she specifically mentioned “a boy too sweet to swat a fly” who broke his brother’s heart before.

First of all, I’m getting a sudden whiplash whenever this is brought up because I know exactly who it is. Given the first encounter of Karl with Vlad, where he saw him drunkenly dancing to a song about intense heartbreak (again, stream tyl by kakie!), it must have been something truly painful. It doesn’t help as well that there is an obvious parallel going on here with the fact that the description also fits Karl. At one point, Vlad also tells him that he does not need to worry because he looks like someone who does not have a power to hurt him anyway. They are really setting us up as early as now for the heartache, no?

In the same way, I appreciate how this show inserts the sexual attraction also forming between the two of them. Sexual attraction is a part of romance. Gaya normalizes it and emphasizes that it is just natural. The couch scene was particularly genius because of the double meanings of Karl and Vlad’s exchange. But more than that, I like how it also unapologetically shows the physical component of that attraction by having Karl and Vlad sit close together. Vlad even has his arm around Karl. Even the fact that Karl stared at Vlad when he got out of the bathroom was a nice touch.

While the One More Chance dream fantasy was all sorts of hilarious and sexy, it is a testament to how Karl’s subconscious is already telling him something that he keeps on denying. I also like the nice touch there when Karl woke up, he was just disoriented that he had a dirty dream, but not disgusted by it (there are some series and dramas that do this). He is attracted to Vlad. However, for Karl to accept his feelings, it also means that he needs to accept his sexuality. A point which was discussed primarily in the scene before this – the conversation at the dining table.

The phenomenal dinner scene

I wish I am able to give justice to this scene through words, and I’ll try because we need to talk about it (or I need to talk about it). As a fan of films and TV series, I feel like conversations are the most difficult to bring to the surface. You need to keep the audience’s attention while also making sure that the depth is there. For me, what I always look for in conversation scenes are three things: (1) how normal these conversations would sound like as if you are overhearing them from the table next to you; (2) how a director captures the rawness of the exchange between the two actors; and (3) how natural would the delivery be of each line. I think the third point is very important. Some actors have this tendency to talk in a certain kind of perky tone that makes it sound superficial. Thank goodness, both Ian and Pao were really great in this scene.

Of course, the most well-known example for a good conversation scene is the entire Before trilogy – it remains the gold standard for exhibiting the power and the magic of conversations, of an entire film with just these two people talking and forming connections. While this dinner scene isn’t exactly a Before levels type of perfection, to me it was a perfect scene in the face of BL series and the Philippines TV landscape in general.

𝗚𝗮𝘆. 𝗕𝗮𝗸𝗹𝗮. 𝗕𝗮𝘆𝗼𝘁. 𝗕𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗝𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗶𝘁. 𝗜𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱𝘀 𝗻𝗼 𝗲𝘂𝗽𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗺. 𝗜𝘁’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮𝗻 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝘂𝗹𝘁.

One of the things best highlighted in this scene is when Karl did the gesture with his hand. That is unfortunately common in the Philippines, with people literally doing it to your face when they ask you. Or some of them done behind your back with matching giggling and knowing looks. I should know because I’ve seen it among my relatives when they try to refer to or describe a cousin or an uncle who is gay or might be gay. Karl was conditioned to think this way, and it’s no surprise that he would struggle to ask the question and get the word out. Meanwhile, Vlad is confident in his own skin. He doesn’t miss a beat and tries to get Karl to say the words in a way that both lectures him and encourages him.

This is what makes the scene purely amazing. It is confrontational, but it is not dramatic. It isn’t even preachy at all. It’s just a seemingly ordinary conversation between two people over a meal, trying to get to know and understand each other. You really got to hand it to Severo for constructing a dialogue this way because it also brings out both of Karl and Vlad’s current disposition. Moreover, this topic is a big deal and there are a lot of conversations that need to be had around it. But this scene easily summed it up around that one simple gesture. In less than a minute, it was able to tell you that being called gay, bakla, bayot, bading is not an insult. No grand monologue was needed.

Aside from that iconic exchange, I also loved the second part of it. It’s not going around much on Twitter so I can see some people reacting to the earlier exchange as if Karl was really just insulting Vlad. But the deal here is, Karl is also in the process of unlearning his bias and conditioning. He grew up in a household where his Dad would take digs against his gay uncle, Tito Santi. There’s even a hint of Tito Santi being physically hurt by his father if he’s “babakla-bakla” (basically another insulting way of saying lalambot-lambot). You can just imagine how difficult it must have been for him to grow up and feel like he needs to follow a certain path that his parents see for him.

Hence, when confronted by Vlad with the question, “Ikaw ba, bakla ka?” he was defensive. His tone shot up much higher than normal and was almost panicked. You can literally feel all of his guard come up. Vlad asked him why he was acting like he just accused him of a crime, and to his credit, Karl immediately apologized. But again, I just really understand Karl and I can’t wait for him to really see himself and get to know himself. There is so much about him that I am interested to learn and for him to learn as well about himself. I always see him as like a kid learning to take his first steps – he stumbles but tries to stand again even for just the sake of himself. His many mess-ups in life make his character compelling… and I guess this is just me on my #ProtectKarlAgenda.

Interestingly, as per Direk JP, above scene references an iconic scene from Jose Javier Reyes’ 1993 rom-com film MAY MINAMAHAL which, coincidentally, I just watched last month when I found its restored version on iWant. Amazing as well that the specific scene of them having a meal together was really my favourite from the film because it was a turning point for Carlitos (Aga Muhlach) and Monica (Aiko Melendez). It was when they finally start to get to know each other because for the longest time, they would just flirt in the cafeteria. It was a fitting reference because for Karl and Vlad, they are already starting to get to know each other by sharing even a small part of themselves. I also find it adorable watching Karl watch Vlad messily eat his food. I live for those small soft moments because it just seems so pure and innocent.

All in all, the dinner scene truly delivered. It was iconic and powerful. Major props to Gege and Direk JP, but also to both Ian and Pao. I loved how Pao was able to capture Karl’s reluctance and embarrassment, and Ian just exudes the confidence you need to see in Vlad. How can I describe this connection? Magnetic, I guess? They can easily throw these lines at each other, sustain the tension, and kind of just get lost in it. At every turn, Vlad has the power in this scene as he tries to pull Karl towards him, but also Karl stands on his own ground despite being unsure. I appreciate that about Karl – his life can be a mess, but he never really loses his sense of self and principles.

Finding a home

Aside from everything that happened in this episode, one of the things that I definitely loved is its subtle hint of these two people finding a home in each other. The most striking line for me, really, was when Karl asked Vlad, may nahanap ka na bang mauuwian? I like that this can translate to have you found a place to stay in? and have you found a place to go home to? The episode had such a great run in double meanings, and this one takes the cake more than anything. Karl was starting to feel guilty about kicking out Vlad, and it also happens that over his phone call with Tito Santi, he told him to always find a way to repay kindness with paying it forward to another person or to the community. Luckily, Vlad went back to his apartment to use the restroom.

When Vlad was about to leave, Karl called him back and asked, “Nag-dinner ka na ba?”

Vlad stayed for dinner.

When Vlad was done with dinner and was about to leave again, Karl stopped him and said, “Dito ka na lang matulog.”

Vlad stayed the night.

When Vlad was about to leave to come live with his ex-boyfriend after cooking breakfast as a thank-you, Karl offered him a place to stay, “Will you be my housemate?”

Vlad said yes and stayed.

Epilogue

In today’s epilogue, Karl is still seated on his side of the couch, but Vlad this time was standing at the back of the other side, leaning forward. A stuffed whale occupies the space beside Karl. Every now and then, the two of them would look at each other but it is Karl who would often glance back at Vlad – as to what his eyes are telling him, I don’t know. But if I am allowed to guess, perhaps he was trying to get him to sit beside him? Perhaps, as the closing note goes, there is always a space for Vlad there.

Comments; Ramblings

It’s only the second episode but Gaya is already sparking conversations and it does it in such an engaging way for its many fans. For me, this one really sets the foundation for what is yet to come for the story of Karl and Vlad. If anything, this episode emphasizes that struggle will always be a part of queer love, at least in our current socio-political climate. It isn’t just in regard to identity, but also with everything that comes with the acceptance of who you are by yourself and the Other.

For the pilot episode discussion, I talked about how there seems to be a running theme in this show about seeing – of looking at yourself, the other, or a beloved. This episode shows us Karl seeing Vlad; closely and slowly starting to unravel what it was about him that compels him. For Vlad’s part, I’m pretty sure he’s starting to see who Karl is, too. I feel like him feeling comfortable enough with the idea of staying in Karl’s place and actually living with him over the sem break is an indication of strangely feeling at ease (home?) with someone he just met.

The concept of persons as homes takes me back to a post from a Facebook page called Bibliophile, which was lifted from a poem written by Warsan Shire called ‘For Women Who Are Difficult to Love’: “You can’t make homes out of human beings. Someone should have already told you that.” This episode made me think a lot about that. On one hand, it feels romantic and uplifting to know that you have someone you can call your home, someone you can always return to as Yiu-fai put it in HAPPY TOGETHER [1997]. On the other hand, it feels scary because people change and if today the door and the windows are open, it might not be the same the next day. But I suppose I can feel hopeful for both Karl and Vlad. Perhaps, the door to Karl’s apartment will always be open for Vlad and the space beside the couch will always be reserved for him.

--

Gaya Sa Pelikula airs new episodes every Friday 8PM (Manila time) on Globe Studios’ Youtube channel.

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GAYA SA PELIKULA Ep 01 Review [x]

[fixerupperofarrendelle]

Day 1: “The Wind Blows A Little Bit Colder...”

A/N: Thank you for reading! This is my first time doing a challenge on tumblr, but I hope I can make some friends within this fandom. ❤️

@vannminner @vuelie

The wind blows a little bit colder in Arendelle as the autumn breeze changes to winter snowfalls.

This period of time has been full of change. Elsa abdicated the throne, placing the kingdom of Arendelle into the hands of Anna, and moved to the Enchanted Forest as protector of the spirits and the Northuldra people living in the Forest. The former queen, now the fifth spirit, truly feels like she is where she belongs.

Anna, on the other hand, has had a tough time transitioning into her new rule. Of course, she had a great role model— Elsa handled her queenly duties with grace after the Great Thaw. But Anna wasn't like Elsa. She always felt more like the spare child, not the other side of a very important bridge as Elsa had told her.

The people of Arendelle was always Anna's main concern. She wanted to make wise decisions with trade agreements and other political changes. Balancing council meetings, paperwork, and foreign dignitary visits, Anna could barely keep her head afloat.

Sure, she had Kristoff who was always ready to listen to her venting sessions. Olaf and Sven would do their best to cheer up the exhausted Queen.

She knew that she could send a note with Gale to tell Elsa she needed her, but Anna did not want to do that. The queen's realization of her struggles with being codependent caused her to try to do it all on her own.

Kristoff saw red flags almost immediately after Anna was coronated. He gave her a few weeks, hoping Anna just needed time to adjust. But with her constant mood swings, her skipping meals, and her staying up way too late to finish paperwork, Anna was struggling.

The only time she seemed to be herself was when Elsa came for family game night. Sometimes, Elsa would stay the whole weekend, which she had been doing more recently because she missed spending time with her little sister.

Today is Friday. Elsa should be arriving shortly after lunch. She always patiently waits for Anna to finish up in her meetings before coming to relax and have fun with the family.

Kristoff decides as soon as Elsa arrives, he will discuss what he's noticed about Anna. Maybe she can provide some comfort.

Anna runs into the dining hall a few minutes after noon. Without a word, she takes her seat.

"Um... hey," Kristoff speaks as he rubs the back of his neck nervously.

She avoids eye contact but sighs, "Hey, honey."

"Is... everything alright?"

"Everything is fine, Kristoff. I just don't think I'm going to finish my paperwork in time for family game night," Anna folds her arms and lays her head on the table.

"I'm sure Elsa will understand. She will probably stay the whole weekend anyways," Kristoff responds, trying to soothe his fiancé.

"She shouldn't have to do that," Anna grumbles.

"What do mean?" Kristoff gives her a look of confusion.

"She should just come for family game night and then go back to the forest where she belongs-"

"Woah, Anna. Are you sure you're-"

"I'm fine!" Anna yells as she slams her fists against the table.

Kristoff stares at her, his jaws dropped.

Anna cringes with embarrassment from her outburst. Tears begin to stream down her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. Just... tell Gerda to send my lunch to my room," She speaks choppily.

Before Kristoff can object, Anna runs out of the dining hall and practically flies upstairs, skipping one or two stairs between every step.

Kristoff lets out a sad sigh just as Gerda walks in with the huge meal. "Gerda, would you please take her meal to her room?"

"Yes, my lord," she responds as she sets the plate of food in front of Kristoff. Gerda hastily pushes the tray of food out of the room.

Kristoff hates being call a lord. He's just a mountain man that fell in love with a Queen, but Anna insists that he is spoken to with his formal title.

Interrupting his thoughts, Elsa elegantly walks inside the dining hall.

"Elsa!" Kristoff jumps up and gives her a hug.

"Hey, Kristoff," Elsa smiles at him. She looks around him, expecting a hug from her sister.

Her smile fades, "Where is Anna?"

"She's in her room... um... Elsa? I need to talk to you about her."

A flash of concern washes over Elsa's features. "Please, let's sit down," she leads him back to the dining table. "What's going on?"

"At first, I thought she just needed time to adjust to being Queen, you know? But she is overworking herself. She skips meals and never comes to bed before midnight. Her mood changes constantly, and Anna is only herself when you come to visit," Kristoff informs Elsa.

Elsa's face twists with sadness. Without another thought she stands up, "I need to talk to her-"

"Wait!" Kristoff stops her. "Um... she's upset right now, because she doesn't think she will finish her work in time for game night," he warns.

"Thank you for telling me, Kristoff. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go talk to my sister," Elsa says almost pleading. Kristoff gives a polite nod and decides to walk to the barn to feed Sven.

Elsa softly knocks on the Anna’s door. When she doesn't get a response, Elsa presses her ear against the wood. Sobs escape her sister's mouth on the other side.

"Anna? Please, let me in— it's Elsa."

Another minute passes. Restless, Elsa tries again. "Anna, please! I'm going to open this door."

Instantly, Anna swings the door open and throws herself into Elsa's arms. "E-Els-sa," she sobs loudly.

Elsa holds her steady and gently leads her to the bed in Anna's room. She quickly jumps up to close the door and runs back over to her little sister.

"Anna, breathe. It's okay, dear, I'm here now," Elsa attempts to soothe the wailing queen.

It takes Elsa about thirty minutes to calm Anna well enough to understand Anna when she speaks. "What's been going on?" Elsa strokes her sister's cheek.

Anna turns her face away and remains quiet.

"Anna," Elsa reprimands gently, "Don't shut me out, please."

"I'm not you," Anna chokes out.

"What?" Elsa gasps. Anna looks back at her older sister.

"I'm not you, Elsa," Anna stands up and starts to pace around her room. "I'm not an amazing queen who has magical powers. Like Olaf said, I'm powerless. I was never meant to be the queen— I'm just.... the spare."

In shock, Elsa stares at her sister. She slowly walks toward Anna. Elsa places her hands firmly on Anna's shoulder. "I didn't know you felt that way," Elsa tells her guiltily.

"No, no, it's okay-"

"Anna," Elsa stops her. A single tear falls down the oldest's face. "I want to show you something."

Elsa shuts her eyes and conjures the icy magic. Snowflakes swirl around the room, collecting in the center, a few feet away from the girls. There, ice formations of King Agnarr and Queen Iduna form.

"Darling, I've been thinking," Iduna starts as she looks lovingly at her husband.

Anna gasps and glances at Elsa when she recognizes the icy figures.

"It might be time to tell Anna about Elsa. I can't bear keeping her shut out anymore. She's maturing now, she can be responsible," the Queen reasons.

"It's not Anna I'm worried about. What if we let them get close again and the feelings are too much for Elsa? Joy brings her powers out strongly as fear,” the King reminds his wife.

In shock, Anna takes a small step forward, watching the scene take place in front of her.

"But if anyone can find a way to help her, it's Anna," Queen Iduna smiles.

"She may be right about that. There's not much that girl can't do,” King Agnarr smiles now, thinking about his youngest daughter.

Iduna sighs happily, "Her love could hold up the world."

"Lucky for the world," the King chuckles. "Okay, we'll tell her when we return."

The King and Queen share a sweet hug as Iduna hums in contentment.

Anna turns to Elsa and runs into her sister's arms. She sniffles loudly, "Thank you so much for that."

Elsa pulls away to look Anna in the eyes. "They believed in you, Anna, and so do I," Elsa smiles warmly at Anna.

"Oh, Elsa," Anna wipes the snot of her face with the sleeve of her dress, causing Elsa to giggle.

"And hey, you do not have to be me to rule Arendelle. The people here adore you, Anna. You may not have ice powers, but you have something stronger," says Elsa.

"What's that?" Anna shakes her in disbelief.

Elsa places a hand on her sister's shoulder.

"Love!"

[matildainmotion]

My Cure for the Blues, thanks to my Daughter who Loves Pink: What Might Yours Be?

I am blue. I don’t know why. There are many blatant reasons for blueness in the world right now - more than there have ever been in my lifetime - yet still I don’t know why. If I did I wouldn’t be blue. I would be sad with purpose. Or angry. Or upset. But what I have is a slightly pointless feeling. Being blue is vague. Vaguely low. A big wash of a dark colour, devoid of detail.

Meanwhile my four year old daughter is definitely not blue - she’s pink. “What’s your favourite colour today?” She asks, everyday. I find it a hard question to answer with accuracy, perhaps because of my vague blue feeling. She does not: “What’s yours?” I say. “Pink,” she replies with absolute certainty, “And gold.” Another favourite question of hers, that she poses most evenings at supper: “What are you the fairy of?” The grown-ups round the table come up with various quips in answer: Daddy is the fairy of mashed potato; Granny is the fairy of hearing aids; Mummy is the fairy of tiredness. 

“And you, Tenar?” 

“I’m the fairy of beauty, sparkly things and everything I like,” she replies, while skipping up and down beside the dinner table, because the fairy of beauty is much too busy to pay any heed to the fairy of meal time manners. Her favourite Christmas present was a gold princess gown, which she dons daily, and Snow White-like, checks in the mirror to see if she looks suitably fair. She wants to grow her hair down to just above her bottom. 

This all comes as rather a shock to me because I was not a pink girl - my favourite colour as a child was navy blue, no pastels please. I refused to wear dresses. I had a party boiler suit- dark blue - for birthdays. I climbed trees, ran along garden walls and lived in trousers. I was inconsolable when my father once brought me back a kilt as a present from a trip to Scotland - imagine being given a skirt! Despite being told this was a skirt meant for men, despite the photos in the family photo drawer of my father, a proud soldier in a Black Watch regiment kilt, I remained unconvinced. I have stayed relatively consistent in my tom-boyness into adult life. As a mother my children rarely see me in dresses, hardly ever in make up. Mummy has long hair under her armpits and on her legs but often shaves her head.

Given the version of womanhood I have presented to my daughter, I assumed  her predilection for pink princesses was a result of the vicious marketing to which children, especially girls, are subjected - the bright pink magazines with plastic toy lipsticks and hair curlers sellotaped onto the front, placed at just her height on the wracks near the supermarket check out. This is just one example of the many things about the world that make me blue so, when her pink princess phase began, I set to work. 

I had already consistently switched pronouns around in books - mostly from he to she - or had discussions with my daughter about the absence of active female heroines.  More recently, her questions such as “Why is it girls that have long hair?” Or, “Which one of these princesses is the most beautiful?” lead to long discussions about the history of fashion, gender as a colourful spectrum, and how peacocks are just one example of a species in which it is the boy that gets to wear the gorgeous feathers. None of this seems to make the slightest difference to my daughter’s commitment to pink, but two developments recently have eased my concerns and made me think that there is more than 21st Century patriarchal capitalism at work in her choices, and that the pink thing - or the thing for pink -that is sustaining her spirits through this hard time might actually contain within it a clue to the medicine I need for my blues.  

Firstly, last weekend, after a day on which I had had to work and so had resorted to letting Tenar watch Disney’s Cinderella (the 1950 animation) she ran back and forth during supper and told us her version of the story. In her rendition, she played the part of the fairy godmother, and having magically rustled up a stunning dress for Cinderella, she thought she should be the one who got to enjoy it. So it was she, the fairy godmother, who danced the night away with Cinders. And what of the prince? No princess for him - he was left with a slice of pizza. After three nights of dancing together, Cinderella married Tenar, the fairy godmother, and they lived together happily ever after, with an ever-expanding wardrobe of fabulous dresses. The prince married the pizza, and was, apparently, content with his lot. 

I was reassured by this that my daughter is in no way either a passive consumer of pink-ness or likely to become an easy victim of social norms. Soon after marrying Cinderella, she came up with the second thing which allayed my concerns, and made me question my fast feminist assumptions as to what is at work in her psyche. She announced, seemingly out of the blue (that colour again), that one day she wants to acquire a white, calm, mare.  

We have some chickens, but on the whole we are not an animal-focussed family. No cats. No dogs. Certainly nothing as large and demanding as a horse. My daughter accepts the fact that owning a horse is a big deal - you need a stable, a meadow, and various other bits of kit, so she is going to be patient - not a quality that comes to her easily - and wait, but it is important that she gets the mare when she is still young, she says, by the time she is twelve. By then her hair should have grown to her full desired length and both she and the white mare can ride over the fields with their locks streaming behind them. She is also keen on a cart to go with it, which will, she says, make shopping much easier and less boring. She will look after it very well: she will dress it in garlands of flowers, feed it hay and apples and exercise it daily. Its stable will be right beside the pink, gold and violet-painted bedroom of her own, into which she will also have moved by the time she turns twelve.  

I am not entirely sure from where this horse has ridden into her mind. She has a sticker book of white unicorns, but much of the dream seems to be of her own invention. I am not about to surrender to an essentialist narrative and suggest that all little girls harbour a horsey dream - how could I when I myself never have?- but it has touched me, this sudden passion for a white horse, the oddly mature way in which she discusses the details of it, and it makes me think there is more than magazine marketing at work in her.  

My husband plays Tenar the theme tune to White Horses, the 1960s TV series, whilst I remember all the stories I know that feature a woman and a horse. One of my favourite Ted Hughes’ tales concerns the first woman complaining to God that she is bored - she wants a playmate. After trying out various creations and getting it horribly wrong, God finally gets it right when, out of the crests of the waves, he conjures a horse, who rides ashore to greet the waiting woman. Going further back in time, there are the tales of Epona and Rhiannon, Celtic horse goddesses which I know of thanks to mother-maker, Jackie Singer, who made a brilliant show about them that explored women’s power and sexuality - both its repression and liberation. Rhiannon in particular, who can outride any man with ease, is no passive princess. Whilst the image of a girl dressed in pink is no more than eighty years old, the image of a woman riding a horse is clearly a good deal older. However, irrespective of age (simply using the fact that something has been around for a long time is a highly dubious reason for justifying it - patriarchy, for example, is ancient!) it seems to me, listening to Tenar, that she has somehow tapped into an image-geyser - it has sprung up mysteriously, and with tremendous energy. It feeds her.  Life is tough, we are confined in a tiny house, while we try to stay well, stay sane, shield Granny, but my daughter is buoyant, not blue, because she is dreaming of horses- I need some of what she’s got.  

But I never dreamt of horses. They don’t do it for me. I think back to when I loved navy blue and try to recall what else I was dreaming of then. What made me run around the kitchen table with delight like my daughter does? And then the answer comes: I wanted a meadow too, but not for a horse. I wanted a cabin in one corner - I was going to run across the meadow, barefoot, marvel at the wonder of the world and then head into my cabin and write. I didn’t want to be a princess, I wanted to be a poet. With the same passion, the same weird mix of realism and fantasy as I see in my daughter and her horse ambitions, I made plans for my poetry cabin. I remembered this when I watched the amazing Amanda Gorman, not dressed in pink or blue but brightest yellow, reciting at Biden’s inauguration - a young poet woman warrior. I can feel it does me good to summon up this archetype, this image. It starts, slowly, to dispel the blue. It’s a dose of a meaning-of-life medicine, the first iteration of it that I ever brewed for myself and so, because of this, it still holds a certain potency. As Victor Frankl argues in his classic Man’s Search for Meaning a sense of purpose, of meaning, is what we (man, woman, or betwixt and between) need to survive the hardest times - a holocaust, a global pandemic, or, closer to home, just a tough day of schooling with the kids. 

So, here are your questions for the month - actually a mix of my daughter’s questions and mine:

What is your favourite colour today? What are you the fairy of? What do or did your children, if you have them, dream of? And what were your own childhood dreams? And can your answers to these questions change the colour of your days?

As I type this, Tenar is sitting on my lap, and she has asked for the last word. I have said she can dictate and I will type. Over to Tenar, then, to finish this off:

“I ask my mum so many questions that I feel in my body and I say my heart is the thing that controls my feelings. I ask every night to my mum, why she was a tom boy? And I say that I love you as much as I am going to love everything around me, and I love my heart, and my horse. And I am a girlie girl, not like my mummy.  I love princesses, I say, every night.”

[hotarutranslations]

Did You Watch "Konya Kurabetemimashita"!

Evening Its Ishida Ayumi

 “Konya Kurabetemimashita”

 It will be airing soon,

 With Morning Musume as the topic,

I was really about it, wa-I ❤

  Thank you very much

 Its in the middle of the blog but, I’ve written about this happiness in another column, I’d be happy if you would please read that

 → Here ←

 Right now,

 8:52 PM

 I thought I would write a blog before it starts,

Nah,

 I thought, perhaps I’ll write about it when its live!

 WAITING

(just now its 8:53PM)

 Before it starts,

This time, appearing on Konya Kurabetemimashita,

 Ogawa Sara-san wrote some wonderful sentences!

 Here

 When I was with her for work, she talked about her love, even then I’m happy as  I felt a deeper, deeper love in these sentences! Thank you very much!

 ITS STARTING

 Well, it’s started!

 Theres no Maa-chan! lol

 Sashihara-san, as always thank you very much… ❤

 Fua--!

No matter how manys times you see the Rockin’ video! For me too! the song here is,

 KOKORO&KARADA Ichikawa-saaannnnn!

Man I’m already!

 ( ；∀；)

 That’s my face!

 Inuyama-san!!!!!

The other day I got to be on the radio with her,

 You can listen to it here

 Ha, recharging my phone,

 Ogawa-san!!!!!

It’s the Ayumizuki era isn’t it!!!!!

Thank you very much!!!!!

 Sashihara-san!!!!!

Maa-chan came out!!!!! Lol

 Amazing……Amazing……

 So many,

Details,

 Closely analyzing the lyrics of the song……

 While we also sing a lot of songs,

We get courage in the lyrics

 I really love them

 Tsunku-sa-----n!!!!

 Wait, each of Tsunku-san’s words,

I’ll properly reflect on them later

 Yes

 Thank you very much

 (writing at this pace,

I have a feeling this going to be a long blog)

 (I’ll be a bit quieter)

The put up a chronology

 Amazing!!! A handwritten one!!! Influenza…….a……

 With Morning Musume’s history

Every time I look back on it there is something I don’t know,

 I’m thinking, there are even things that I don’t know!

 But that’s why its fun…… Therefore becoming a fan,

No one should think that its too late by any means,

 Thank you very much for meeting us

 Aah, the seniors, are really cool

I’ll rewatch MV’s tonight, lets watch Naichau Kamo

 With the teaching materials, I love

Rival Survival, its cool

 Tears

  With various concert videos,

Of course you can buy the DVD’s and Blu-rays,

 There are also many that can be streamed on U-NEXT By the way there are quite a few plays (musicals),

I want you to watch these on DVD or U-NEXT,

 (since there is a CM I ended up writing something like that)

 Developing Talent In Face Panels

 Eh, its to that point lol

 Maria~~~~~ ❤

 Fukumura-sa~~~~~n ❤

 The came! These 2!

I also heard of Haromegeddon for the first time!

 Its kinda…… Naming it when talking about it,

Its kind of embarrassing to find out the explanation like this right!?

 LOVErin’s Cute ❤ LOVErin ❤

 Kudo-san’s LOVErin is also cute! Lol

 Hawawa…… they told a really happy story…… that song from that live,

I also don’t know how many times I’ve seen it

 Therefore like that…… Like my beloved seniors,

they’re always thinking of us,

That talk makes me so happy,

 Tsunku-sa-----n! again

 Wait,

Sexy biscuit (fool?) is too deep……

 Please let me do my homework

 I sang it once at a live in 2016,

 Iroppoi Jirettai

 Singing this song,

It’s a fun song with its dancing nuances

 I was conscious of making my costume flutter

 UWA!!!

 That’s right… Help me!! Has those kind of lyrics, but when it was completed it was gone,

Its not uncommon for us to change things that were tentative but,

 That’s the biggest change that I haven’t forgotten

 Even the members regularly talk about it,

 There are members who weren’t there at the time,

So, everyone in the 12th, 13th, 14th and 15th generation,

 Its one of the episodes that we speak proudly on

 It feels like, I know about this because I’m a member←

  Liking Morning Musume before joining, then joining, the more I know the more I like it, I’m proud once again to be in this group now

 At the same time, it’s a group that I love so much! This is the best group! With that, its like, I have to teach a lot of lot of things to my juniors! And,

 I also feel a lot of love now,

 Alright! I’m fired up about it

 Those that always support us,

 All of the fans,

Really, thank you very much! I wanted to say that!

 From now on thank you very much

  I’m sorry this blog ended up being long

 With the feeling of being sorry,

To summarize, it was a happy talk

 If you’re recording it definitely watch it 1 more time,

While reading along with my blog……lol

 Instagram

 Concert

   See you ayumin ❤

 https://ameblo.jp/morningmusume-10ki/entry-12622073625.html

[thisistenhyungsunderwear]

Hello sweetheart! Since you just opened requests, can I ask for a drabble or whatever you are most comfortable writing, maybe some smut with mark tuan?? if you don't have many ideas maybe something related to a break up and how the reader always keeps running back to his house because she can't forget him... yeah you know hahaha thank you!!!

Hi I hope this works, I kinda twisted the plot in the slightest but same idea lol hehe🥰

Group: Got7

Warnings: MakeupSex, Oral!FemaleRecieving, UnprotectedSex(Wrap it before you tap it kids), kinda soft

Word Count: 1781

"You can't keep pulling this shit Mark!" You yelled into the phone. "I can't keep doing this with you. This always happens." 

"Woah baby chill out, don't start getting any ideas." He said, recollecting himself from the screaming match you both just had. 

"No Mark, I can't keep doing this, this is the third time we've fought in the past week. Aren't you tired?" Your voice broke. Mark was silent on the other end. "I don't think I can do this with you anymore. I'm sorry." This time you gave him no opportunity to respond. You hung up your phone and threw it across the room. Tears filled to the brim, threatening to fall out. Your phone began vibrating across the room. You glanced over, hope flooding you that maybe it was Mark.

No. No you didn't. You and him weren't together anymore. No more going back. The phone started its series of vibrations again. 

Lost in your emotions, you didn't even realize the tears began streaming down your cheeks. A choked sob erupted from your throat. The phone stopped vibrating. 

Your knees threatened to give out as you walked over to your phone. More sobs and gasps started as you stared at the screen.

Missed call from Mark♡ (2)

New voicemail from Mark♡

You wanted to call him back. You wanted to apologize. You wanted to tell him you loved him. But you wanted the constant fighting to stop. You wanted to stop hearing his pleas for you to stop crying. You wanted the stress to stop.

It took you a minute to pick up your phone. It wouldn't hurt to just listen to the voicemail...hear his voice one last time. 

You unlocked your phone and pressed on the notification, which brought you straight to the voicemail. Hesitantly you pressed play and turned your volume all the way up.

"Baby, y/n" Mark's voice filled the room, the scratchiness evident from the crying and yelling in his voice, "baby, please, answer the phone. I need you. I know we've been fighting and god I'm such an idiot for letting it get this far. Baby I love you, so much, and I can't lose you. Please, answer the phone. Call me. I can't lose you." 

He stayed on the line for a minute longer, choked sounds coming out, as if he wanted to say more, but he couldn't make himself, then the line went dead. 

"My god," you whispered, regret washing over you. Why did you even let it get this far. 

You let your body go where it wanted, and immediately you were rushing out the door and to your car, barefoot and in nothing but shorts and one of Mark's hoodies, of course. 

The drive to his house was short. Maybe because he only lived 10 minutes away, or because you went 20 over the speed limit. Either way, you wasted no time pulling up in his driveway and running to the front door. You knocked on the door a few times, and tapped your foot impatiently.

A few seconds later, Mark opened the door. His eyes were red and puffy, his hair was a mess. He was in sweats and a tshirt, barefoot. 

A million thoughts ran through your mind all at once, but you ignored them all and jumped forward into his chest. You wrapped your arms around his neck and squeezed as tight as you possibly could. 

"Im sorry fuck im so sorry I cant even begin to tell you how much I regret arguing baby I-" Mark began despertely rambling to you, trying to explain himself to you.

"Mark, please just kiss me." You cut him off, pulling back to look at him.

He didn't reply. Instead he pulled you in impossibly closer and stared down at you before leaning in and connecting your lips.

Behind his kiss was more passion and emotion than any of his words could even convey to you. 

When you broke apart, he looked down at you, the sadness now gone from his eyes. He was looking at you with love in his eyes, a million emotions conveyed in one glance. 

"Let me show you how much you mean to me, hm?" he asked quietly, lifting your chin up with his pointer finger to look at him fully. You nodded slowly and leaned back into kiss him quickly, before he took your hand and lead you to his bedroom. 

Taking you carefully, he laid you down on the bed below him and continued to kiss you, never one breaking the kiss unless it was to remove both of your shirts. His hand roamed endlessly around your torso, he never left a spot untouched for too long. He shimmied your shorts down your legs, and broke the kiss to look down at your figure, clad in nothing but your underwear. 

"Do you realize how beautiful you are?" He said, awe in his voice. He leaned back down and started to kiss down your neck, and in between kisses began to whisper praises and sweet nothings. Your face flushed and you listened to his soft voice telling you how beautiful ever curve of you was, and how much he loved you.

God why would you ever break up with Mark Tuan. 

He continued to kiss down your body, and once he reached your waistband he looked up at you innocently, "May I?" He asked, motioning to your underwear. 

"Yes. Please." You whispered, and never broke eye contact as he pulled them down and off of your body, tossed somewhere in the room, along with all of your other clothes. 

He laid down in front of your core, and wrapped his arms around your thighs, spreading them apart for him.

He kissed your inner thighs, alternating and slowly working his way up to where you needed him the most. Eventually he made it there, and to start he only placed small kisses around and near your entrance, and a few light pecks on your clit. 

"Mark, please." You moaned, needing more from your boyfriend. 

"As you wish." He said, and went straight in, sucking your clit and licking long striped from your entrance up. 

Your back arched in pleasure and eyes scrunched closed, lost in the euphoria only he could give you. He placed his hands on the base of your pelvic bone and pushed you down so that he could continue without interruption. 

Your moans and whines were a mess as he mercilessly ate you out, never ending pleasure washing through your body as you tangled your fingers through his messy hair. 

You could tell a knot sas beginning to form in your stomach but it wasn't until Mark inserted his middle fingers into your core where you felt the tension grow. 

"Shit shit shit shit shit-" you whispered, quieter with every syllable, getting lost in the pleasure and the sound of Mark encouraging you to cum was becoming too much. 

"Come on baby, let go," he said and sucked on your clit. That was your breaking point. The tension in your gut snapped and your hips snapped as you came, but Mark never once slowed down as you came, making sure to prolong your orgasm as much as possible. You whined telling him that it was getting to much and he slowly halted his movements. He crawled up and over your drained figure and kissed your forehead softly. 

"Think you can do that one more time for me baby?" He whispered, peering down intently at your facial expression, looking for any sign that you didn't want to continue. You nodded, still in too much shock to say any coherent words. 

Mark took your left hand and kissed the back of it before quickly pulling off his sweats and underwear. 

You watched him climb back over you and adjust himself in front of your entrance, "Ready?" He asked, awaiting your approval. You nodded yet again, this time pulling him back down for another kiss as he pushed himself into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size. 

"Shit" You both gasped, the feeling overwhelming. It was more than just sex right now. Right now it was showing each other how much you really loved the other, and that somehow made the feeling even more overwhelming. 

He stayed still for awhile when he bottomed out, both of your labored breathing filled the silence of the room. 

"Go," you said looking up at him, his gaze patiently awaiting yours, nothing but loved filled his eyes and you could look at him forever with that gaze. He nodded and slowly pulled out before setting a steady pace. The light sound of slapping and quiet moans filled the room. The sensitivity from your last irgasm cause your walls to tighten and relax constantly around him as he continued thrusting into you causing him to grunt. 

"I'm not gonna last very long if you keep doing that." 

Instead of responding you reached for his arm with your own and intertwined your fingers as he began to speed up, his patience wearing thin as he got closer.

"Cum with me baby, come on," he encouraged you, going faster with each snap of his hips, "just a little bit longer, yeah?"

You moaned in response, the familiar feeling built up in your stomach as you squeezed his hand, telling him you were close. His hips got faster before suddenly he stopped, painting your walls with his cum.

You were on the brink of the edge but didn't quite make it, and he noticed right away, so his hand went to your neglected clit and ran circles around it, sending you over the edge and convulsing around his oversensitive cock in your core. You moaned out his name a few times before coming down from the high and looked up at him. You knew you probably looked like a mess, smudged mascara and a flushed face and messy hair, but to him he thought you were the prettiest girl in the whole world.

The thought of losing you terrified him and he realized that today. The sound of Mark crying was one that you never wanted to hear again. You were each other's worlds. 

"I love you." He said, kissing your forehead and laying down next to you, wrapping his arm and your waist.  

"I love you too," you said, turning to face him. "Never again." You said, referring to the worst day you've experienced, the arguments, the break up, the tears. Never again. 

"Never again." He whispered back before pulling you in closer and holding you tighter than ever before. 

 

[frizz22]

Prompt! Zelda/Sabrina mainly. Could you do a one or two shot where Sabrina never gets her powers back and ages like a mortal? So the story is kind of the slow progression of her aging and dying while her family remains the same? Morbid, yes, but I think it could be beautiful. Thank you!

Note: Sorry this one took a while. I had trouble figuring out what snippets I wanted to include and ones that could be cut so that this wasn’t a stupid long one-shot (though is still kind of is). Hope you still enjoy! Read on ao3

~~~ indicates time jumps

Warning: very brief mentions of self-harm

Lilith took Nicholas from Ambrose’s arms and glided through the gates of Hell with ease. It was only when she didn’t turn back, didn’t offer some kind of reward for their efforts and sacrifices that Zelda called after the witch.

“Lilith!” The demoness turned gracefully, the boy’s weight nothing to her now that the full powers of Hell burned through her. Zelda came up behind Sabrina, resting her hands on her girl’s shoulders. “Can you restore Sabrina’s powers? Not the enhanced ones Lucifer bestowed on her, but the ones she was born with?”

A sad smile touched Lilith’s lips. “I can’t.” 

The words were another blow in a long line of blows the Spellman family had received recently. But Zelda refused to let this one go unparried. “Why not?” She demanded, a hard edge in her voice. “You’re the Queen of Hell, surely you can do as you please. Especially to help those who put you on the throne.”

Shaking her head, Lilith looked at them apologetically. “I cannot. Sabrina gave up her powers, and not only gave them up, but also sacrificed the vessel she’d stowed them in.” She looked between Zelda and Hilda, “it would be as if you’d destroyed the tooth containing your and Hilda’s powers during the trial. You cannot create power out of nothing.” Lilith turned her attention back to Sabrina. “You are mortal, dear child. I am so sorry.”

Stepping around Sabrina, Zelda partially entered Hell. “Then transfer my powers to her.” A volley of objections rose up behind her, all of which Zelda ignored, her eyes trained on Lilith. “You said it cannot be created, fine. Merely take mine and give them to Sabrina.”

Brow arching, Lilith assessed her. “You’d die rather rapidly without your powers. Much faster than when you lost your powers for the duration of the trial.”

Zelda shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, what matters is Sabrina would live a long, witching life. Not one of those dreadfully short mortal ones. I’ve lived over two centuries; I don’t need any more.”  

“Auntie—” Sabrina took her hand and squeezed it hard. “I can’t let you do that.”

Smiling softly at her niece, Zelda touched Sabrina’s cheek. “It’s not up to you, sweetheart.”

They both turned back to Lilith who was watching them in astonishment. “A noble suggestion, Zelda, but still an impossible one.”

Rocks and debris rose up and hovered inches off the ground, the papers Sabrina’s mortal friends used to stay the release of Hell swirling around them. “No, it’s not impossible. You merely wish to negate a potential threat.” She spat, walking closer to the demoness. “Sabrina, as much as we may hate it, has some claim to the throne you now sit upon. By denying her her powers you’re solidifying your claim and preventing her from overthrowing you in the future.”

Fire flared behind Lilith at the accusation. She put Nicholas down and strode forward, deflecting Zelda’s spells before taking her face in her hands and muttering a spell. Images flashed through Zelda’s mind at a painful speed. And when Lilith released her, the images stopped, leaving Zelda gasping.  

“I am speaking the truth, Zelda. As you’ve now seen. If I could help, I would. You are right, I should reward those who helped me ascend. And after everything I’ve done to your family, well, I do owe you. I’m sorry it cannot be in the way you want.” Lilith peered over her shoulder to where Nicholas lay, inert, on the ground. “Young Mr. Scratch is also beyond my help, for now, at least. Though I will look for another flesh prison to keep Lucifer in, I don’t foresee something sturdy enough coming along anytime soon. Now for the rest of you—"

Zelda cut her off, voice raw and ragged. “We all want our reward to be extending Sabrina’s mortal life.” She didn’t bother looking back to see the others’ responses, she knew they were nodding.

Tears streamed down Sabrina’s face. “Except mine,” she whispered, eyes locked on Zelda before she turned back to Lilith. “I want mine to be something else. Something I need to word correctly and will pass on to you later.”  

Nodding, Lilith stepped forward and kissed Sabrina’s forehead, a slight golden aura surrounding the girl before fading. “You will now have a long life, Sabrina Spellman. Short by witching standards, but one of incredible length for mortals.” Giving them a close-lipped smile, Lilith picked up Nicholas once more and was gone, the gate slamming shut and leaving them in a dark tunnel.

Numbed and their victory spoiled, the group trudged out of the mines and into the night air. Awkward goodbyes ensued as Sabrina’s mortal friends walked away, glancing over their shoulders as they went.

Prudence remained there, twisting her hands. “I understand if your family wishes to be alone. But my sisters—"

“Of course, you’re coming back with us,” Zelda interrupted her, “can’t very well send you back to the academy by yourself, not when it’s empty.” The young woman sighed in relief, nodded her thanks and teleported away, clearly sensing they needed to be alone.

It was a long walk back to the mortuary, one they made downheartedly, but it provided them time to process everything that happened. She and Hilda bracketed Sabrina as they slowly made their way home, Ambrose slipping his hand into Zelda’s free one and holding on tightly; as if he could sense her entire world was a bit off kilter and her blood pressure spiking dangerously.  

They only released one another when they reached the front porch, the width of the stairs forcing them to break apart to fit. Zelda kept a tight arm around Sabrina, though, refusing to let her girl go just yet.  

Once inside, Zelda sent Ambrose and Sabrina into the kitchen to make tea—and pour out some whiskey—while she and Hilda checked on the rest of the coven currently recuperating throughout the rest of the house.  

When they’d ensured everyone was still stable, the two of them joined Ambrose and Sabrina in the kitchen. Both were sitting silently, staring into the depths of their cups. Swallowing, Zelda took the glass of whiskey they’d set out for her and leaned against the windowsill behind the table, feeling too restless to sit. “Well,” and that was all she could manage, unsure what else to say. So, she took a drink.

Hilda seemed to be at an equal loss, slumped in her usual spot at the table, swirling the liquid in her glass around. “Well, Baxter High will have its star pupil back full-time.” She attempted to sound cheerful, but the tear that escaped down her cheek gave her away.

“For Satan’s sa—” Zelda cut herself off, the phrase leaving her lips out of habit. “Fuck Satan,” she muttered under her breath, taking another drink.

Sabrina finally raised her eyes then, tears brimming on the lids. “Was, was he telling the truth? Am I really his daughter?”

Clearing his throat, Ambrose looked at his cousin. “Lucifer is also known as the Father of Lies. He could have just been saying those things to try and get you to fulfill the prophecy…”

“But, but what if he really—" Sabrina began, chin trembling. This girl so different from the one who’d, hours earlier, confidently claimed she was a Spellman now and always.

Scowling, Zelda slammed her drink down. “You’re our girl. I don’t care what he says, or claims. You’re ours.” The words came out rougher than she’d intended, her voice raw with emotion, but it was the truth. Sabrina would never be anyone else’s.

They had raised her, loved her, protected her. Sabrina was their daughter, no one else’s; not even Edward’s.

The declaration was apparently all that was needed to send Sabrina over the edge, her niece bursting into tears as she shot out of her seat, rounded the table and hugged Zelda hard. “And you’re mine.” She mumbled, tightening her hold and pressing her face into Zelda’s shoulder.

Stumbling back a bit at the impact, Zelda quickly steadied herself and returned the embrace; clutching Sabrina tightly to her as the tears she’d ignored for the past hour dripped down her cheeks.  

After a few moments, Hilda stood and joined the hug, cocooning Sabrina between them. Ambrose gave a good-natured huff and pushed up from the bench and joined as well, his arms encircling both her and Hilda.

“You are ours.” Zelda repeated, this time in a teary whisper. Sabrina sniffled against her and burrowed deeper into Zelda.  

They only broke when Prudence came in to fetch some of the others water. She’d ducked her head apologetically and rushed out of the room. But it was enough to have Hilda and Ambrose retaking their spots at the table; Sabrina, thought, remained in Zelda’s arms, quite to her surprise.

Glancing at the clock, Zelda sighed and rested her cheek on top of Sabrina’s head; it was nearly two in the morning. “How about we all head to bed, deal with the rest of this in the morning?” And it was a testament to how exhausted they all were that no one objected. When Sabrina didn’t move, though, Zelda ran a hand over her back. “Would you like me to tuck you in, darling?” She offered hesitantly. Though Hilda indulged in some of Sabrina’s still childish inclinations, Zelda hadn’t done so in years; the last time she’d tucked Sabrina in had to be when the girl was about nine.

“Yes please, auntie.” Sabrina murmured, finally releasing her and going to clean up her tea and put it in the sink.

Zelda silently followed Hilda into their bedroom, neither of them sure what to say as they changed into their nightgowns. As Zelda moved to go to Sabrina’s room, she let her hand brush against her sister’s shoulder in comfort—knowing no words would suffice for the death sentence that had just been handed down to their niece. Hilda caught her hand and squeezed it hard, a sniffle escaping her, but she kept her eyes averted, releasing Zelda and then hurrying into the bathroom.  

It would be some time until they came to terms with everything. “She’s ours, Hildie.” Zelda called after her sister, her voice stopping Hilda in the doorway. “She is. Ours. No one else’s. No matter who claims it, or what they claim, Sabrina is ours and we will do everything in our power to keep her safe, healthy and alive.”  

Nodding jerkily, Hilda gripped the doorframe tightly. “I know, Zelds. I know.” With one final shaky glance back at her, Hilda disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door.  

Taking a moment to compose herself, Zelda exhaled then made for Sabrina’s room. Her niece was already in bed and patted the spot next to her. Smiling sadly, Zelda climbed into the empty space, Sabrina curling into her side immediately once she’d settled.  

“I feel so empty, Aunt Zelda.” She said quietly, pressing closer. “I know I gave my powers up, it was my choice. But I—" her voice cracked, “I always thought I’d somehow get them back.”

Of course, she had. Because up until now, despite everything Sabrina had gone through, she’d never paid a price for her actions. Not truly. Others around her had. Mildred at the Feast, Jesse Putnam, Tommy and Harvey Kinkle… each of them paying the highest prices possible while Sabrina experienced mere by-blows.

But now, now her girl had finally learned. And it had cost her her life as well. Not in the same sense as Mildred, Jesse and Tommy. But her life, nonetheless. Now wasn’t the time for lectures though, there was no need to rub salt in the wound they all shared. Instead, Zelda cradled Sabrina close.  

“I know how it feels,” she murmured, stroking Sabrina’s hair, “to have your powers taken from you, lost.” Her mind too easily going back to that awful week she and Hilda had their powers and youth stripped for the duration of Sabrina’s trial.  

How it felt as though her very essence had been sapped from her; leaving Zelda drained. She’d been forced to grip the back of one of the kitchen chairs to steady herself as she came to terms with how it felt having the magic that had sung through her for centuries ripped away. The vast, empty cavern stretching inside her had seemed limitless and Zelda then realized that she’d greatly underestimated how defenseless she would feel.

Yes, she knew how Sabrina felt. And, just like her niece, she’d anticipated getting them back. The difference, the difference was that her girl hadn’t and would never have her powers restored. Oh, the sheer arrogance that ran in their family… looking back it took Zelda’s breath away.

“I am so very sorry, sweet girl, that I could not get yours back for you. That I could not save you.” She managed, voice thick and tears sliding down her cheeks despite her best efforts.  

Sabrina’s arms wound around her waist, squeezing hard. “You’ve been saving me a lot these past months, Auntie Zee. I suppose the only thing you couldn’t save me from was myself. I should have listened. To Nick, to Ambrose. They both told me to wait, and I didn’t.” She sniffed and buried her face into Zelda’s neck. “It’s my fault. You can’t clean up after me on this one, auntie, I have to clean up after myself.”

Though her heart was breaking, a small part of Zelda couldn’t help but appreciate how maturely Sabrina was handling this; be impressed by it. This, added to the fact that at least now the Dark Lord had no use for Sabrina even should He escape, heartened her; just a bit. Silver linings.

She’d keep these silver linings to herself though, Sabrina likely wouldn’t appreciate them as she did. Unable to think of anything else to say, Zelda just held her girl and hummed softly, running a hand soothingly up and down Sabrina’s back.  

After some time, Zelda was debating whether to extract herself from her now sleeping niece. Her hand was itching for the whip hidden in the trunk at the foot of her bed. Though Hilda had made her promise not to practice flagellation anymore, this was a failure that could not be overlooked. She needed to be punished. Punished for everything that had happened, for not predicting it, for not protecting Sabrina once she was aware. Deciding that Sabrina wouldn’t miss her if she left for a bit, Zelda shifted to move when Sabrina’s voice stopped her.  

“Don’t go. Please.” And Sabrina’s voice sounded so small, so wounded, that there wasn’t a choice to be made.  

Zelda settled back into the bed once more, knowing she wouldn’t be able to conduct her punishment tonight. Closing her eyes, she forced her failure from her mind and focused on her niece. “I’m right here, sweetheart, always.”  

Nodding against Zelda’s shoulder, Sabrina tightened her arms around Zelda’s waist and cuddled closer before drifting off. Zelda wished sleep would find her so easily.  

~~~~~~

It was stressful. The adjustment period of Sabrina not having powers. For all of Sabrina’s maturity that first night, that thinking was difficult to maintain when there was an emptiness lurking inside her where once power resided. And though Zelda and Hilda could both relate to Sabrina; neither of them could comprehend having to deal with that feeling for the rest of their woefully short lives.  

So, they all did their best to be a bit more patient with Sabrina’s moods than they normally would be. Understanding that she was coming to terms with the loss of her magic, with a part of herself.  

There were screaming matches and sudden outbursts of tears when one of them unthinkingly flicked a wrist to accomplish something small with magic. As time passed though, things began to settle into a routine.  

Though when Sabrina finished the 10th grade and prepared for the 11th, it became apparent they could not continue this routine forever. So, over breakfast one Saturday morning, Zelda brought up the topic of when they would leave Greendale.  

“Leave?!” Sabrina sputtered, her fork slipping from her hand and onto her plate.  

Hilda reached over and gently patted her hand. “Well, yes, love. We can’t stay here forever.”  

Inclining her head, Zelda started to butter her toast. “It really would be most prudent to leave after you graduate from Baxter High. Hilda and I are already getting a few odd looks from the local mortals, we haven’t aged in almost two decades. Not a wrinkle or white hair between us.”  

Hand come up to touch her hair unconsciously, Hilda nodded. “She’s right, dear. If we’re to remain hidden we must leave. Esp—,” she faltered and pressed a finger to the corner of her eye to stem some tears, “especially since you will be aging normally and we…”  

Eyes downcast and poking at her food, Sabrina sighed. “And you won’t be aging at all.” She finished morosely.  

Smiling sympathetically, Zelda placed a hand on Sabrina’s forearm and squeezed. “Our excuse will be that once you leave for college, we see no reason to remain here. We can claim we’re moving somewhere warmer.”  

“We… I can’t just leave Nick.” Sabrina balked, eyes glazing over.  

Zelda sighed and withdrew her hand to finish buttering her toast. “Darling, Nick chose this. He sacrificed himself to save you, to save all of us. He is safe. Lilith is protecting him, and we can research how to free him and entrap Lucifer in another vessel anywhere. But we cannot stay here.”

Lips twisting Sabrina nodded at her plate and excused herself.  

Flapping her hands a bit, Hilda pressed her lips together to prevent her own tears from falling. “It’s not fair.” She murmured, standing to clear the table. “None of it. Couldn’t, couldn’t we stay just a bit longer? Didn’t Lilith ask you to be high priestess?” She asked it innocently enough, but the question set Zelda’s teeth on edge.  

It was true, Lilith had asked her to take up the position; more than once. She’d refused. Of course, she would help get the church and coven back on its feet; especially after the horrific damage Faustus wrought. But she couldn’t be in charge, didn’t want to become so engrossed in the church that she didn’t have time for Sabrina.  

Also, Zelda knew she couldn’t bear to work with the witch who helped orchestrate everything that brought Sabrina to losing her powers; her long life.

Exhaling slowly, Zelda took a deliberate bite of her toast and chewed. “She did.” She answered tersely. “You know full well why I cannot, and will not, take that position.” Zelda abandoned her breakfast and opted to light a cigarette. Eyeing her sister, Zelda rubbed the back of her neck, realizing what her sister was avoiding. “It is not the church you are concerned with. It’s the incubus.”  

The comment made Hilda blush, but she nodded. “I, Zelds, I love him. He loves me and I—” she twisted a dish towel between her hands. “I knew our time would be short, but never imagined it be this short. I don’t want to leave him. Not now, not in a year when Sabrina graduates…”  

“Sister,” Zelda murmured, standing up and rounding the table to touch Hilda’s shoulder. “Staying here is not an option for us any longer. Even,” she sighed, “even for lo—, for love.” She managed to get the word out without too much of a grimace. And though she knew she’d come to regret it; Zelda squeezed her eyes shut and took a bolstering hit of nicotine before making her offer. “You could ask the hybrid to come with us.” When Hilda’s head snapped towards her, Zelda waved a hand as though it were nothing. “Just a thought.” She muttered, briskly leaving the room before her sister could say anything.  

They needed to find happiness where they could, while they could; Sabrina’s predicament hammered that home in a way Zelda never anticipated learning as a witch. And if the incubus made her sister happy, well, Zelda wasn’t going to be the one to deny Hilda the small piece of joy she’d managed to hold onto throughout this entire ordeal.  

Rolling her neck and taking another long draw of her cigarette, Zelda headed to the library to start researching ways to prolong Sabrina’s life. Yes, Lilith had promised to extend it as long as possible as their reward for bringing down Lucifer, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t research additional ways to further extend her girl’s life.  

~~~~~~~

She blinked.  

That was all Zelda did. She could have sworn all she did was blink. How was it that Sabrina was graduating from Baxter High in a few months’ time? Though how she didn’t notice before with all the brochures and pamphlets arriving at the house Zelda wasn’t sure.  

Perhaps she was still adjusting. For so long, years bled into one another without another thought, when witches had so many to live such a short period of time felt like nothing at all. And, truthfully, that was still Zelda’s reality, it just wasn’t Sabrina’s anymore.

All of this swirled through her mind as she and Sabrina were sitting at the kitchen table one Saturday—Hilda at the bookstore and Ambrose at the academy—and Sabrina pushed aside yet more college brochures that had come in the mail.

Lowering her paper, but keeping her eyes on the text, Zelda arched a brow. “Not going to college, are we?” She drawled, trying not to sound too interested.

Sabrina picked at the muffin in front of her. “Would it be so bad if I didn’t?”

The comment surprised Zelda and had her folding her paper and setting it aside. “I understand if you don’t wish to attend any of the institutions near Greendale, I’ve had enough of this dreary place myself. You can attend anywhere you like; cost is no issue. We’re witches, we’ve built up money over the centuries.”

“No, I know.” Sabrina murmured, still not meeting Zelda’s eyes.

When her niece did not elaborate, Zelda probed further. “Your Aunt Hilda and I would move with you to wherever you wish to attend, Sabrina. Unless,” a horrendously painful idea came to mind, “unless that’s the issue.” She managed to finish with a clear voice, though her heart was contorting itself painfully. “Perhaps you wish to have a normal mortal college experience? One free of old aunts trailing after you?”  

The very thought broke her heart, the thought that Sabrina wouldn’t want to be near them. That just because their time together had been cut short didn’t mean she wanted to spend as much of it as possible with her aunts.

Hand covering hers, Sabrina interrupted her spiraling thoughts. “That’s not it at all!” She exclaimed, squeezing Zelda’s hand tightly. “I, I want to be with you guys as much as possible. And I know that even if my life is going to be shorter that I need to decide what I want to do with my future… and,” she chewed her lower lip. “I came up with an idea.”

Carefully keeping her face blank, Zelda lifted a brow. “Oh?” She remarked, not trusting herself to say more. Sabrina’s ideas weren’t often good ones, no matter how noble the situation that inspired them, no matter how well-intentioned her niece was… Sabrina had a track record, and not a good one.  S

abrina’s voice recaptured Zelda’s attention. “I, I was thinking that I could be a midwife. Like you.” She looked at Zelda earnestly and tears sprang to her eyes. “Could, would you mentor me, Auntie Zee?”

“Oh darling,” Zelda smiled widely and flipped her hand over to grasp Sabrina’s. “Of course! I’d love nothing more; I’ve had quite enough of this death business if you ask me. But I don’t want you limiting your options because of us. You, you can go off if you’d like.” Zelda managed, swallowing past the lump in her throat. Though it was hard to think of being separated from her girl, given how short their time together would truly be—already Sabrina was aging, maturing into a lovely young woman—she wasn’t going to let Sabrina squander what little time she had by forcing her to remain with them.

“I know. But if I do that, it’ll be like I’m cutting my ties to the witching world for good. And I don’t want that. And I want to be a midwife. It’s a very noble calling and I want to follow in your and Aunt Hilda’s footsteps.”

Pressing a finger to the corner of her eye to stem impending tears, Zelda lifted Sabrina’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Then welcome aboard to the Spellman midwifery practice. Now, we just need to decide where to move and open our new business.”

A smile the likes of which Zelda hadn’t seen in ages lit upon Sabrina’s face and she shot up from the table raced away and came back with a notebook. “I’ve been thinking about that.” She started, opening the book and scooting her chair closer so Zelda could see.  

They narrowed down their choices to three cities, figuring Hilda and Ambrose should have a say in the matter as well. Still grinning, Sabrina flipped forward in her notebook, the pages covered in handwriting evidencing to Zelda that Sabrina had been considering this for some time.  

Sabrina’s enthusiasm for the topic was reassuring, she’d been depressed for so long after the defeat of Lucifer and the loss of Nick and her powers that Zelda hadn’t been sure what to do. But this, all of this planning for the future, these smiles… it heartened Zelda more than she could express.  

“And I don’t need powers to mix most potions or balms, don’t need powers to analyze results.” Sabrina stated, emphasizing her points with hand gestures. “I’ve been doing research and most of them only involve mixing ingredients and the ones that do need a bit of magic, well, you, Aunt Hilda or Ambrose could do that part. Besides, I’ve been thinking about certain mortal techniques we could incorporate to bring in more clients.” She bit her lip and looked at Zelda; anxious for the first time since they’d started their conversation.  

Reaching over to cup Sabrina’s cheek, Zelda beamed. “That sounds marvelous.” She winked and Sabrina’s smile returned once more and Zelda wanted to keep that expression on her niece’s face; especially when it’d been missing for so long. “If that is the case, though, you’ll need to attend some kind of mortal midwife schooling. Hilda and I will be of no use to you there, you’d have to be the one to teach us.”  

Nose wrinkling a bit with joy at the thought of teaching her several centuries old aunts something, Sabrina nodded and started to flip through her notebook once more.  

They moved their conversation to the parlor, where they could lounge on the couches, Zelda’s heels forgotten on the floor, and discuss recruitment strategies for clients, how they’d advertise as a naturalistic midwifery practice so mortal patients weren’t suspicious of their methods, and courses Sabrina could take.

~~~~~~~~

Before they knew it, Sabrina was graduating. Hilda cried of course, blubbered really, and Zelda had rolled her eyes but clapped louder than anyone else as her girl crossed the stage.  

They’d decided to wait out the summer. It would make the most sense, mortal college was on the same schedule as the rest of the schooling system and wouldn’t start until Fall. This made it more believable that Sabrina was going off to college somewhere and not just packing up with her whole family and moving to another state.  

And, well, it gave Sabrina time to say goodbye. Her mortal friends knew what had happened, certainly, knew of Sabrina’s plans. No, the charade wasn’t for them. It was for the rest of Greendale. It’d already been odd enough that Mary Wardwell had disappeared without a trace, her cottage deserted and fiancé missing as well; Lilith could have done a better job with the loose ends on that, but Zelda digressed.  

So, they were waiting so Sabrina could say goodbye to the place that had been her home her entire life. As they neared their departure date, Zelda realized she was more than ready to put Greendale behind her. While it held a multitude of happy memories, it also held numerous painful ones and a couple of decades away would help rinse the place of its history—to an extent.  

The only one who seemed nervous about their move was Prudence. The young woman had become a regular fixture in the Spellman house over the past few years; constantly asking Zelda for advice in her efforts to restore the church to its previous glory.  

While Lilith had asked Zelda to be her high priest on a regular basis in the beginning, each time adding some kind of enticement to the offer. But she had turned down the Queen on enough occasions that the witch stopped asking. Instead, Zelda suggested Prudence be the one to lead the church into its new era—she had been the one to save the coven, after all.  

Despite the fact that Prudence was perfectly competent, and Zelda was unsure what else she could teach the girl after working together for a few years, Prudence was still reluctant to see Zelda go.

“Are you sure—” Prudence began, wringing her hands as she watched Ambrose load most of their belongings into the car; they’d be leaving the contents for the office and the morgue, one never knew when one might need either of those and Zelda wanted Prudence to have whatever she needed at her disposal.  

Taking the young woman by the shoulders, Zelda steered her out of earshot from the others. “You are a direct descendent of the previous high priest, this is your birth right. You, Prudence Blackwood, will redeem the Blackwood name, will lift it once more into glory all the while leading the coven and the Church of Lilith into the future. I would not have suggested Lilith ask you if I didn’t think you up to the task. And Lilith certainly wouldn’t have followed my advice had she not thought it sound.” Gently bringing her hands up to cup Prudence’s face, Zelda smiled widely at her. “You will do marvelous things. I look forward to hearing all about it. Not only from you but also the grapevine. Contact me on the witching board or via mirrors if you need anything, though I have a feeling you won’t need to.” Zelda leaned in and kissed Prudence’s her forehead.  

A trembling smile spread on Prudence’s face and she lurched forward to hug Zelda hard. “Thank you for everything, Zelda.” She breathed, tightening her hold. “You are the mother I always wanted. Please keep in touch.”  

Stunned, but deeply touched, Zelda embraced the young woman back before pulling back. “Oh, my dear girl, of course I will. Take care. Stay safe. Don’t overwork yourself. Rely on your sisters. They are everything.” Her eyes glanced over to where Hilda was casting a few more shrinking spells to fit their belongings into the car and smiled.  

Nodding, Prudence cleared her throat and broke all contact between them. “Goodbye, Zelda. I hope you return in the future.” With a small smile, Prudence winked out of sight.  

Sabrina came up then and touched her arm, “ready, Auntie Zee?” Her eyes were a little red, her mortal friends having just said their final goodbye as well—each of them going their own way for college.  

Lips quirking up into a reassuring smile, Zelda wrapped an arm around Sabrina’s shoulders and led her to the car. “Absolutely, darling. I am most certainly ready to live somewhere sunny and warm.”  

~~~~~~

They moved somewhere sunny, so tired of the dreary Greendale weather. Cerberus joined them, to Zelda’s slight chagrin, but she’d offered, and he made Hilda happy… and by giving him the same potions and tinctures they made for Sabrina he would live longer as well.  

Ambrose was with them too. Though he was free to travel as he wanted, he didn’t go anywhere; claiming who else would help keep Sabrina young in spirit but him? Despite his flippant and teasing manner, they all knew he stayed because he wanted to be around Sabrina as much as possible while she was alive. There’d be time later, to travel and fun. But his cousin won’t be around for it as he’d once thought; so, he stayed.  

It didn’t take long to set up their midwifery business, Sabrina having completed the mortal schooling within a few years thanks to an accelerated program she’d found. And, to Zelda’s slight surprise, business was booming.  

Mortals and witches alike came to their practice, some came for the full services, others for their magical ‘natural remedies’ that all but cured morning sickness, reduced bloating and swollen ankles and sped up labor. Regardless of why they came, they came.  

While they were doing very well, one day Sabrina brought home a machine that would help them remain competitive.  

“An ultrasound?” Zelda repeated dubiously, eyeing the machine as she laid back on one of the exam chairs so Sabrina could show her how to use it. “We’ve made do without this contraption for ages, Sabrina, I don’t really see how it will improve our outcomes.”

Huffing in amusement, Sabrina shook her head. “It probably won’t change the birth outcomes, but,” she squeezed a copious amount of gel onto Zelda’s stomach, making her squeal uncharacteristically. “Parents will love being able to see their baby.” When Zelda shot a glare at her for the cold gel, Sabrina grinned. “I tried to warn you it’d be cold; you were too busy complaining that we didn’t need the machine.” She teased, poorly smothering a laugh at Zelda’s expense.  

Clearing her throat, Zelda composed herself. “Yes, well, it seems cold was an understatement. Was it necessary?”  

A small frown of concentration tugged at Sabrina’s mouth as she moved the device along Zelda’s abdomen. “Was what necessary?”  

“The cold? Does it make the machine work better?” She clarified, watching the screen in astonishment.  

Eyebrows raising as though she’d never considered it, Sabrina shook her head. “No, I think that’s just how the gel is stored.”  

Zelda harrumphed and twitched her fingers to warm the gel on her stomach. Her niece didn’t miss the action and smirked. “What? We can make it a little thing of our own. Warm gel. I’m sure we’ll get good reviews on the website Ambrose set up for us.” Before Sabrina could tease her further, Zelda reached for a towel and wiped her stomach off before standing to switch spots with her niece.  

She squirted the gel onto Sabrina’s stomach and the girl squealed. “Auntie Zee! I thought you warmed it up!” She exclaimed, giving Zelda and accusatory glare.  

“Just being fair.” Zelda intoned, eyes glittering mischievously even though they didn’t leave the screen as she maneuvered the device along Sabrina’s stomach. As the images rolled on the screen, Zelda cocked her head and then muttered a small spell to enhance the clarity.

Sabrina exhaled sharply in awe. “Auntie, that’s brilliant,” she grinned grabbing a fresh towel as Zelda pulled back. “That kind of clarity will definitely get us some good reviews! Women will be clamoring to come here just for clear pictures of their growing babies.”  

Inclining her head in acknowledgment, Zelda put the device away and attempted to broach the topic she’d been trying to discuss for some time now. “Not just the pregnant women, but their partners too.” She remarked, not quite managing to sound as casual as she’d have liked.  

Not missing her tone, Sabrina sighed. “Aunt Zelda, I told you—"  

Clasping Sabrina’s hands between her own, Zelda cut her niece off gently. “I know, sweetheart, it’s just, it’s been almost 7 years since Nicholas and where I normally wouldn’t badger because once you could have waited centuries to decide if you wanted marriage or children that’s no longer the case. And I don’t want you to have to spend your life alone with only your old spinster aunts. You’re allowed to have a life Sabrina, with a partner and love and children… if you want them.”  

A sad smile curled Sabrina’s lips as she stood and hugged Zelda hard. “Thank you, Auntie Zee. But my heart is still a bit broken. I don’t think it was fully healed after Harvey. Nick was helping it heal faster than I ever thought possible and then, then my heart shattered when he, he….” She sniffed and pressed her face into Zelda’s shoulder, the memory still painful. “I’m still picking up the pieces.” Sabrina finished.  

“Oh darling,” Zelda breathed, rocking her girl gently.  

“Anyway, Sabrina cleared her throat and pulled back, wiping her eyes. “I have no idea how to explain my world; for whatever partner I take would be mortal—what witch or warlock wants to strap themselves to a disgraced, now powerless witch? And how do I explain I was a witch but not anymore? Or do I lie about it all and ask you, Aunt Hilda and Ambrose to hide your true selves? Neither one seems fair or feasible right now…. I want to figure that out before I even consider dating again.”  

It wasn’t fair. That Sabrina should have to worry about this. Should have to choose once more between the sides of her duality when she didn’t even possess one of the sides anymore.  

But Zelda let the matter drop. If her heart was aching for Sabrina, for the life she would suddenly have to plan out in a few years and not a few centuries… well, she could only imagine the hurt her girl was experiencing.  

She gently kissed Sabrina’s forehead and turned back to the ultrasound machine. “This was a brilliant idea, darling, witches and mortals alike will love it. You have a shrewd eye for expanding our business.”  

Glad for the change in subject, Sabrina shook her head and smiled. “Just adding to the empire you and aunt Hilda already built.” Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, Zelda turned back to the machine and asked how to print pictures of the babes they viewed.  

~~~

They moved again when Sabrina turned thirty; once again her, Hilda and Ambrose’s decelerated aging gave them away. They could only claim good genes and secret nighttime skin routines for so long. Sabrina was noticeably older, now a lovely adult, while the rest of them had barely aged a day; she and Hilda had only gained a grey hair or two in the years since they moved and Ambrose changed not at all.  

Having grown rather accustomed to the sun, though, they didn’t move too far. It was after they’d settled into their new home, already advertising for the Spellman Midwifery Practice, that Sabrina found her playing with spells.  

Zelda had been sitting in front of her vanity, tweaking her spell a bit here and there until she was satisfied. Once done, she’d leaned back to get the full effect of her work. It was then Sabrina walked in; surprising her.  

“Auntie Zee, what—,” Zelda saw her niece freeze in the mirror in shock and then horror transformed her features. “What are you doing?! Are you okay,” Sabrina rushed forward knelt in front of Zelda, taking her hands. “Are you hurt? Who did this? Who took your powers? You didn’t figure out how to transfer them, did you? Because I’ve told you so many times—"  

A small chuckle emanated from Zelda and she brushed Sabrina’s hair back, tucking it behind her ear. “Nothing happened, darling. I’m just playing with glamor spells.”  

Brow wrinkling in confusion, Sabrina sat back on her heels. “Why?”  

Trying to give a nonchalant shrug, Zelda turned back to the mirror and inspected her handiwork, there was grey intermixed with her red locks now, a few choice wrinkles that aged her but didn’t make her a hag. “I thought since we were moving, I might try something new.”  

“Why?” Sabrina drew out the word, standing to rest her hip against the vanity, arms crossed, to look at Zelda.  

Sighing, and knowing her niece would not let it go, Zelda shifted to face her once more. “So that I may still be your aunt.”  

Taken aback, Sabrina blinked. “What are you talking about? Auntie, you’ve always been and always will—"

Shoving off her stool, Zelda shook her head. “I won’t look it soon enough. Not unless we claim Edward had you when he wasn’t much more than a boy himself. We’ll have to claim to just be bus—,” the words stuck in her throat, “business partners.” She spat out, spinning to face Sabrina once more, not caring if the girl saw the tears in her eyes. “I can’t stand that. I won’t. You’re my girl, and I won’t be claiming you as anything other than family. So this,” she gestured to the glamor she still had in place, “was my solution.”  

Chin trembling and eyes wet, Sabrina closed the distance between them and hugged Zelda hard. “Oh Auntie, and you’re mine. But I won’t have you exhausting yourself with glamours.” She pulled back and framed Zelda’s prematurely aged face in her hands. “You know better than anyone how difficult and draining it is to maintain glamours for extended periods, even one as simple as this,” she touched some of the grey in Zelda’s hair. “We’ll come up with something better than business partners. I promise.”  

Exhaling slowly, Zelda nodded and dropped the spell before hugging Sabrina again.  

“How about some hot apple cider? Aunt Hilda just finished making some.” Sabrina offered when they broke apart. “We could spike it.” She grinned wickedly, wiggling her eyebrows.  

Zelda laughed and smiled tremulously at her niece, wondering how she’d gotten so lucky. “That sounds perfect.” Zelda slipped her arm around Sabrina’s shoulders and her girl wrapped one around her waist as they made their way down the stairs and to the kitchen.  

~~~

It wasn’t just all work, though. They took turns traveling, each of them taking Sabrina to their favorite country; wanting her to see as much of the world as she could before it was too late.

They’d offered years to just run off years ago; when Sabrina first lost her powers. Why bother with work or school when life was so short? They could travel, explore, eat and drink their way across the world until Sabrina was no longer able. Money was no issue, interest a beautiful thing when you had the same accounts for centuries.  

Sabrina had declined. While she wanted to see the world, she didn’t want to give up on a normal life altogether.  

Not wanting to argue with how their niece wanted to live out the remainder of her short life, neither Zelda nor Hilda argued. So, they just traveled occasionally; Ambrose taking her to Italy, Hilda England. Zelda took Sabrina to France for two months; the two of them drinking, sightseeing and exploring all the places Zelda used to frequent when she was younger.  

They hit the main attractions, of course, Sabrina wouldn’t have let them miss the Eiffel Tower for anything. When they reached the top, Sabrina gripped Zelda’s hand and pulled her to the railing; gasping at the view.  

“Auntie,” she breathed softly, as had become her habit of late.  

They’d gotten a few odd looks recently when Sabrina called her or Hilda by their titles. The adjustment had been painful for all of them, she and Hilda both forcing back tears whenever Sabrina called them by their first names in the beginning. But, just as Sabrina had promised that day she’d caught Zelda playing with glamours, she’d come up with another solution for their relationship.  

”I could be your sister too,” she suggested tentatively one night after they experienced yet another mortal side-eyeing them at the Sabrina’s use of ‘aunt’. “Sisters, they’re, they’re closer in blood than aunt and niece.” Sabrina twisted her fingers anxiously, waiting for them to respond. When all Zelda and Hilda could do was burst into tears, Sabrina hurriedly backtracked. “I’m, I’m sorry. I, I know you lost your other siblings, I wasn’t trying to replace—, I can be a cousin, or, or—

Zelda had tugged her niece into a tight embrace, cutting her off. “We’d be honored to have you as our sister, sweetheart. Even if only in pretend.”  It hurt.  

Hurt to pretend they hadn’t raised Sabrina, hadn’t cradled her at night when she was colicky, hadn’t tended to every scrape and bruise, soothed every nightmare, hadn’t attended every school play or taught her Latin and spell work. It hurt.

Sabrina’s arm looping through hers as they leaned against the railing, her head coming to rest against Zelda’s shoulder pulled her from the painful memory. “Thank you, Auntie Zee,” she murmured, a wide smile spreading on her face. “This is incredible. I can see why France is your favorite.”  

Needing to lighten the mood further, Zelda tipped her head so it rested on Sabrina’s. “Does this mean our trip is your favorite?” She intoned, a smile playing about her lips.  

A laugh escaped Sabrina. “I’m not saying that!” She exclaimed, though she leaned more heavily against Zelda’s side. “I’d never hear the end of it from Ambrose or Aunt Hilda if I picked a favorite, especially if it wasn’t theirs.”  

Huffing in amusement, Zelda grinned fully. “That’s code for it’s your favorite trip.” She teased, and before Sabrina could argue that Zelda was putting words in her mouth, she started to point out various landmarks to Sabrina, a story going with each one.  

~~~

They were sitting in the basement mixing potions for patients when Sabrina let out a squeak.  

Looking up from the ingredients in her hands, Zelda saw her niece fixated on separating one of her hairs from the others. When she managed the feat, Sabrina huffed and plucked the hair out, examining it closely.  

“Darling?” Zelda murmured, pushing her glasses up into her hair.  

Sabrina deposited the offending strand onto the floor. “A grey hair…” she murmured, emotions flickering across her face too quickly for Zelda to identify them. Swallowing, Sabrina sniffed. “I suppose it was only a matter of time. Should have had them a while ago, I am 67, though thanks to you and Aunt Hilda I don’t look or feel it.” She attempted a smile, but it faltered, and Sabrina dropped her eyes and tried to look busy with her work.  

Easily sensing that Sabrina didn’t want to discuss the matter, and unable to compartmentalize for once, Zelda excused herself and hurried to her room. She was barely able to lock the door and cast a silencing charm on the room before the tears came in great ugly, gulping sobs.  

A grey hair? If those were appearing wrinkles wouldn’t be too far behind. And those, those meant… more sobs wracked Zelda’s body. Signs of aging were things that shouldn’t have appeared for centuries. Even now she and Hilda were only just beginning to get a few grey hairs of their own.  

Despite all their efforts, despite the potions and charms and spells and the deal with the literal Queen of Hell, Sabrina was still aging much faster than she would have with her powers.  

She was aging and that meant they would lose her in matter of decades.  

Curling into herself, Zelda allowed grief wash over her anew as fresh proof that Sabrina was mortal was hammered home.  

Hilda found her there about 15 minutes later, having ignored both the silencing spell and the lock. When she saw what state Zelda was in she tutted and hurried over to the bed. “Oh Zelds, what is it?” She asked, smoothing Zelda’s hair back and rubbing her back.  

Hiccupping, Zelda shook her head. She didn’t want to share, didn’t want to break the bad news to her sister. But Hilda was having none of her silence and manhandled Zelda into a sitting position. Conjuring some tissues, Hilda pressed them into Zelda’s hand and then crossed her arms expectantly.  

She took a moment to gather herself, hating that someone was witnessing her breakdown… at least it was only Hilda. When she was ready, she kept her eyes in her lap, shredding the tissue in her hands. “Sabrina had a grey hair.” She whispered, as if saying it louder would bring about Sabrina’s death faster.  

At the explanation, Hilda slumped onto the bed, her mouth moving but no sound coming out. Eventually she cleared her throat and managed a, “are you sure?” The words were horrendously pain laden and Zelda could sympathize with Hilda.  

Sniffing, Zelda nodded. “Sabrina found it herself.” She informed her sister, reaching over and clutching Hilda’s hand tightly.  

A soft, “oh,” was Hilda’s only response. She turned her head and pressed an extra tissue against her eye, trying to forestall the tears threatening to fall.  

Humming quietly in acknowledgment, Zelda shifted so she could wrap her arms around Hilda. Once settled, the two of them remained there for some time, once more trying to come to terms with the fact that Sabrina wouldn’t be with them much longer.  

~~~~

Zelda handed the potion over to Sabrina; it was her latest experiment. They’d noticed in past several years that their potions and charms worked less efficiently with each use.  

Panicked, Zelda had been working tirelessly to fix this problem ever since. So far, though, she’d been unsuccessful. When Sabrina didn’t complain about the taste or the thickness of the liquid like she usually did, Zelda looked up. Sabrina wasn’t taking the potion.  

Instead, her niece carefully set it aside. “Auntie Zee,” she started, shaking her head.  

Fear seized Zelda then, because from Sabrina’s tone, from her actions, it seemed as though she were giving up. And she couldn’t give up. She couldn’t. “Drink up.” Zelda instructed, picking the potion back up and setting it firmly in front of Sabrina, brow arched expectantly.  

Years ago, that look would have sent Sabrina running to complete whatever task Zelda had set for her. Now though, now Sabrina just smiled at her and shook her head again. “No, Aunt Zelda, it’s ove—“

Slamming her hands on the table so hard she almost spilled the potion, Zelda cut Sabrina off. “No.” She ground out, pain, grief and anger swirling inside her. “It’s not. Not for a few more decades. We’ve had a bit of bad luck, that’s all. Your Aunt Hilda and I are both working on new ways to further extend—"

Sabrina sighed and stood slowly, her aging body not allowing her to storm out dramatically as she once might have done in her youth when the two of them fought. “I think it’s time for a family meeting.” Was all Sabrina said before she picked up her cane and made her way out of their greenhouse and into the kitchen; calling for Hilda and Ambrose as she went.  

Breath coming in short, inefficient bursts, Zelda snatched up the potion and followed Sabrina into the kitchen where the rest of her family was already sitting at the table. She moved to join them, stubbornly placing the potion in front of Sabrina once more as she took her seat.  

Eyeing the potion, and Sabrina’s silent refusal to drink it, Hilda cocked her head. “What is it, love?” And despite her calm demeanor, Zelda noticed how Hilda tugged at the cuffs of her cardigan anxiously. Her sister clearly sensed something was wrong but held her tongue so Sabrina could get to it in her own time; she’d been the one to call the meeting, after all.  

“I want to move back to Greendale.” Sabrina informed them baldly, not hesitating to jump right in. “It’s time, I want to die where I grew up and I want to be buried next to my parents’ graves. I—"

“You are not dying!” Zelda interrupted hoarsely, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her head. “Now stop this nonsense and drink your potion.” She ordered, volume raising.  

Sabrina looked at her sympathetically. “Auntie—" she began, eyes locked with Zelda’s; and when had her niece’s eyes gotten that wise look in them? When had her eyes gotten so old? As though they held the weight of worlds in them.  

Jaw working side to side in an effort to hold back her tears, the attempt giving her a horrendous headache, Zelda shook her head. “No.” She repeated firmly, though her chin quivered a bit even as she tipped it up in defiance. Sabrina wasn’t anywhere close to death; she simply couldn’t be, and Zelda refused to let her niece believe she was.  

An exasperated huff escaped Sabrina, though an amused smile tugged her lips. “I’m almost 120 years old, Aunt Zelda, I think I’m old enough to be making my own decisions.”  

She wanted to push back from the table and pace the room, but the edges of her vision were darkening, forcing her to remain at the table. “Old enough?” Zelda scoffed and reached for a cigarette. “You’re still a child, 120 is—"

“Ancient, by mortal standards.” Sabrina finished before Zelda could. “And that’s what I am. Mortal.” The reminder was a knife to Zelda’s heart, while she’d been forced to get used to Sabrina’s changing appearance, she still couldn’t stomach the reminder of Sabrina’s mortality. It hurt too much. Sabrina’s voice recaptured her attention. “I may only look 80 because your and Aunt Hilda’s work, but for the past year I’ve felt every second of my stolen time. And that’s what it was Aunt Zee, stolen time. I’d steal it all again just to spend more time with you all, but it’s done now. Mortals aren’t meant to live so long and I—" Z

elda took a fortifying drag of her cigarette, but the nicotine only made her lightheaded. Blinking rapidly, Zelda stubbed the thing out with unnecessary aggression. “You are not any mere mortal, Sabrina. You are a witch and we are witches and we will do whatever’s necessary to—"

“You’d put down an old dog out of mercy! You wouldn’t keep forcing potions down its throat.” Sabrina shouted, some of the spark that Zelda hadn’t seen since Sabrina was a teenager returning. “There is nothing more you can do,” she added softly, gripping Zelda’s hands where they rested in the table as tightly as she could. “You’ve already done so much for me. So much I can never thank you enough for, can never repay you for.” She reached for Hilda’s hand as well, so she could hold them both. “All of you have.” Sabrina let her eyes sweep over the three of them lovingly. “I know this is hard, and it’s not fair. But I did it to myself all those years ago and now it’s time for me to pay my price. I’ve learned my lesson, made peace with it; I hope you can too. Because my time is coming soon, and I’d like to be home in Greendale when it happens, and I want you all with me. Please, please don’t fight me on this.” Her voice trembled a bit, but Sabrina met their gazes levelly.  

Loosing a shuddering breath, Hilda nodded. “Of course, love, we, we can do that for you.” Ambrose murmured his assent gruffly, as though he were trying to disguise the tears in his voice.  

How could they?  

How could they give up like this? They’d never given up on anything before. They’d performed an exorcism on a mortal, they’d stopped the Feast of Feasts, held back the Greendale Thirteen and the Red Angel of Death, Heaven, they’d taken on Lucifer himself. Twice. Defeated the bastard and put the current Queen on the throne.  

How could they face, and conquer, all of that and see this and believe they could not beat it as well?  

They all turned to her, waiting, but Zelda couldn’t. She couldn’t accept this, wouldn’t.  

And though the world was spinning and she couldn’t breathe, vision narrowing to pinpoints, Zelda shoved away from her family and shakily stood.  Before she could muster up another argument, before she could even take a step, her surroundings tipped, and Zelda’s vision went black.  

~~~

“Blood pressure…”  

“My fault…”

“Should have expected—“

The voices around her ebbed. She couldn’t hold onto any one before her attention slipped away. Slowly, though, Zelda managed to open her eyes and sharpen her focus. “What?” She asked roughly, her mouth dry as she forced herself up into a sitting position.  

Hilda and Ambrose fluttered around her; Ambrose pressing a potion into her hand to drink while Hilda grasped her wrist and started to check her heart rate. Sabrina, Sabrina hung back, leaning against Zelda’s vanity, clutching her cane in both hands and looking apologetic.  

It was only when the other two finished checking her that Sabrina came forward and sat on the bed by Zelda’s hip. “If I’d known you were going to pass out, I’d have made my announcement in the living room, given you a softer floor to land on.” She tried to joke, but her small smile fell away at Zelda’s expression. Sobering, Sabrina exhaled slowly. “I know it’s not what you want to hear, Aunt Zelda, but this isn’t something you can protect me from. Not anymore.”

Chest heaving with emotion, Zelda looked past her niece to where Hilda and Ambrose stood. Their solemn faces told Zelda that Sabrina was right. That it would be unfair to force her to continue to age solely for their benefit. Breath hitching, Zelda wrapped Sabrina in her arms and sobbed, Hilda and Ambrose joining the embrace moments later.  

Their little family unit rocking back and forth as they came to terms with what would be an inevitable loss.  

~~~

So, they prepared to move back to Greendale. Though all the mortals who had known them would be dead, they sat down at the kitchen table to come up with a new backstory just in case.  

While they could have tried to continue to claim Sabrina was their sister, it was becoming increasingly difficult to explain the apparent age difference between them.  

Giving them a wavering smile, Sabrina cleared her throat. “I could be your elderly mother,” she looked between them. “You know, to return the favor for all the years you mothered me. And it’d be kind of poetic, don’t you think? A full circle, you becoming my mothers so unexpectedly and now I become yours.” Tears slipped down her wrinkled cheeks and Zelda rounded the table to hug her, tears of her own forming.  

“Oh, sweetheart,” she murmured, throat tightening at how Sabrina’s hands shook slightly when they fisted Zelda’s dress. Their girl was losing strength, losing agility, health… and there was nothing they could do about it. Banishing the thought, Zelda clung to Sabrina harder. “That’s such a lovely idea, don’t you think Hildie?”  

Her sister nodded earnestly and then nudged Zelda aside so she could embrace Sabrina as well.  

~~~~

Bereft.  

That was all she felt as the coffin was lowered into the ground. Even with the absurd amount of the heart break balm she was using to numb herself, it hadn’t been enough to even diminish the pain.  

Her girl was gone. And nothing would ever fill the void Sabrina had left.  

The service had been nice. Prudence allowed Sabrina the funeral rites offered by the Church of Night even though her niece had been mortal far longer than she’d been a witch. But Zelda had been grateful to have it in the church and not the mortuary, she couldn’t bear for Sabrina’s lifeless body to be in the house any longer than it needed to be.  

As Prudence led the event, as was her place as high priestess, Zelda couldn’t help but notice that the young woman had barely aged in the past century. That should have been Sabrina, she thought; young and pursuing her dreams. The thought echoed every time in her eyes swept over an old classmate of Sabrina’s; Agatha, Dorcas, Melvin, Elspeth and a number of other students Zelda didn’t bother to put a name to.

When Lilith appeared at the end, to pay her respects she said, it’d taken half the coven to hold Zelda back. The church itself shook with her anguish and fury.  

How dare she.

How dare that woman come to Sabrina’s funeral when she was the one who’d all but put her girl into the ground. Zelda spewed hate at the witch, struggling against the hands and spells restraining her.  

To her credit, Lilith bowed her head respectfully and made to leave. She paused by the door, though, pivoting slightly to look at her. “I did love her too, you know, in my own way. Not, not in the way I should have, or that she deserved, but I did lov—"

Zelda roared and the people holding her flew back. Before she could cast another spell though, Lilith disappeared.  

The rest of the funeral had been… uneventful. After they buried Sabrina, the others had drifted away slowly, making their way inside where likely countless, tasteless casseroles awaited them. Ambrose and Hilda were the last to leave. Her nephew eventually wrapping and arm around a sobbing Hilda and supporting her back into the house. When he looked back, likely to offer to come back and usher her inside as well, Zelda shook her head. She needed more time.  

They’d buried her next to the empty plots of her parents. Another Spellman gone too soon, wrenched from Zelda before she was ready.  

Her mind flashed back to that morning, so many years ago, when Sabrina asked when the pain of losing Harvey would end. How she was supposed to cope with it and Zelda had given her the only advice she could think of:  

“And tomorrow, you’ll do the same and it’ll hurt a tiny bit less. And the next day it will hurt even less.”

She repeated this to herself now, over and over. Because this pain, this searing, blinding and incapacitating pain could not last. It could not sustain itself. Surely, it couldn’t.  

She wouldn’t survive if it did.  

Collapsing to her knees, one of Zelda’s hand gripped Sabrina’s headstone so tightly her fingernails cracked against the marble as she sobbed, her other arm curling around her middle as she trembled.  

Lilith appeared before her once more, hands held up in surrender. “I’m here on behalf of Sabrina.” She murmured, eyeing Zelda warily as she took a few steps closer. “Her reward, you remember, for helping me onto the throne was different than the extension of her life. She wanted me to give it to you once she’d passed.”  

Though Zelda wanted to rip the witch to shreds, she held back. If Lilith truly had something from Sabrina, she couldn’t risk angering the witch and her withholding whatever it was out of punishment.  

Roughly wiping her eyes, Zelda stood shakily, but tall, the mask she’d crafted centuries ago falling into place. It was difficult to maintain, but while she wouldn’t anger Lilith, she refused to grovel for this final piece of Sabrina.  

A tired sigh emanated from Lilith as she pulled a disk from thin air. “You are a proud, competent witch, Zelda Spellman, one I admire. I know you can never forgive me for what happened to Sabrina and I am not asking you to. But I do not want you as an enemy. I know what you can do when properly motivated.” She inclined her head in acknowledgment to the fact that she likely wouldn’t be Queen of Hell without the Spellman family. Lilith then held the disc out to Zelda like a peace offering.  

Lips twisting, Zelda took the disc from her, brushing her fingers over the case gently. This was from Sabrina, her girl, the last thing she’d ever get from her. The last piece of her Sabrina.  

Squeezing her eyes shut, Zelda brought her gaze back to Lilith. “Never appear before me again and we won’t have a problem.” The words came out more of a growl than Zelda intended, but thankfully Lilith didn’t take it as an insult. The witch merely inclined her head and turned to leave.  

“I truly am sorry.”  

The words were spoken so softly Zelda wasn’t sure she’d actually heard them, but before she could challenge Lilith and likely get herself killed in the process, the witch was gone.  

Summoning courage, Zelda teleported to mortuary office, knowing no one from the wake would be in the room, and hurriedly turned on the computer and slipped the disk inside.  

Sabrina’s face filled the screen.

A wounded gasp escaped Zelda, her girl, there her girl was, looking just like she had after they defeated Lucifer. Her hand reached out and touched the screen involuntarily, as if she could truly cup Sabrina’s cheek.  

Sniffing and wiping away a tear, Zelda pressed play, scooting her chair closer to the desk; to the computer.  

A montage started. Snippets from Sabrina’s entire life with Zelda appeared on the screen. Zelda would have suspected they were home videos had she not known for a fact that they rarely had the video camera out and when they did, Zelda wasn’t in the frame.

These, these were memories.  

Lilith had helped Sabrina enter her own memories, view them like a third party, compile them, and save them in a physical form. And not only did the video show their lives together, Sabrina’s voice spoke over the soft music in the background; recounting her favorite moments, laughing, telling her sorry, thank you, she loved her.  

As the video progressed, Sabrina’s voice aged along with Sabrina’s physical appearance in the video; evidencing that her girl had gone back over the years and added more memories, more love. Sabrina had been creating this for years; preparing for the day she would no longer be with them.  

The last scene froze, an image of her swinging a 4 year-old Sabrina around the back yard, bits of them blurry but the wide grins, the happiness in their expressions, were crystal clear, holding on the screen as Sabrina said her goodbye. When the image faded to black Zelda slammed the button to replay the video; desperate to see her girl, to hear her voice, again.  

Getting to watch her girl grow up all over again… Zelda stuffed a shaking fist into her mouth to try and stifle her sobs. Her smart, compassionate, beautiful, wonderful girl…. She’d known from the start that her family would outlive her, by decades at the least. And yet, she’d found a way to return to them, to be there for them always.  

Her girl was gone, but she’d never be forgotten.  

Pressing the replay button again, a watery smile spread across her face as a tiny Sabrina toddled across the screen, screeching with joy when on-screen Zelda swooped her up and rained kisses on her face.  

It’ll hurt a tiny bit less.

The words sounded in her mind again, and for the first time since remembering them, Zelda actually believed that maybe, just maybe those words could come true.

Not today. Or tomorrow. But some day.

Notes: I know there are many things I didn’t address or only referred to briefly, like Nick, Prudence, Lilith, Blackwood, the twins, Cerberus, Sabrina’s love life, whether Salem would stay with Sabrina not being a witch… but this fic would’ve been a multi-chapter stand alone had I included everything and I didn’t have the energy for that. So, I picked out snippets of their lives and went from there, I hope you still enjoyed!

I also reused the ‘entering your own memory idea’ that I had in my 'Everything Has a Price’ fic, couldn’t help myself :)