#i've been waiting for one and a half hour and the predicted departure time is still TBA

[hi-iamaj]

My plane got delayed and I am currently bored and fighting the urge to lay down in the middle of the hallway

[claire-starsword]

Bloodline of the Sacred Dragons - Chapter 3-4 & 3-5

The weather didn't look good.

The sky was full of heavy clouds, ready to rain down at any moment.

Having arrived at the east edge of the plains, the people of Pao began setting up their bazaar. They put up frames, and wrapped them up in thick cloth to make walls. Then more fabric was used to cover them and the job was done. In less than an hour, the Pao Train was surrounded by colorful tents that had blossomed like flowers.

For better or for worse, the rain began once the tents were already up.

To the plains, the rain was a blessing.

But to Bleu's group, it was only something to delay their departure.

To confirm that the rain wouldn't let up any time soon, they went to see Queen Koron.

As if she had predicted the time of their visit, she had all her main aides reunited there for an audience.

"Sir Bleu, hurry to Uranbatol as fast as possible. This rain brings misfortune."

Coming from a prophet, those words sounded terribly ominous. That worry wasn't lessened by the panicked soldier running up to them.

"I've came to report. A squad of devils is invading the bazaar right now. There's dozens of them. One is a giant squid monster."

"A kraken. Seems that Ziduur hasn't given up on the Manual yet," Camallia whispered as she heard the report.

"Are these the devils that crossed the ocean to steal the Manual? In that case, we have to make them regret challenging us."

Queen Koron turned to her aides, her right arm pointing energetically to each of them. The bright blue shawl covering up to her fingers flapped, exposing her sleeveless emerald dress with golden embroidery.

"Take out our soldiers and wipe the enemies out. We'll gather all civilians in the Pao Train and then station it away from the battlefield."

The people hurried away to fulfill Koron's orders.

"Is it possible to see the enemies from the head car?"

"Yes," a soldier from Koron's personal guard answered firmly.

"Then, please follow me. Sir Bleu, you and your group shouldn't leave this train."

"No, we will fight too," Bleu said to the queen.

"That won't do. Leave this matter to us."

"No, those who can fight shouldn't be wasting time here. I'm leaving the Manual to Karin. Tyrin, Randolf, Guntz, Camallia, let's go."

Calling his companions, Bleu made his way to leave the room.

"Wait, I'll go too," Karin stopped him.

'Why can't I go but Camallia can?', she accused in her mind.

"You protect the Manual," he told her, and took the others outside. Koron only called for Guntz to stop.

"I have a request for Sir Guntz. Please come with me."

Taking him with her, the queen went to the head car. Karin, Krin and Karna, having been left behind, followed them without being told no.

***5***

Swinging its ten legs full of suction cups, the kraken pounded the tents repeatedly as it advanced.

It was a monster from the ocean, the depths of it no less, and would never come to the surface by itself. The land wasn't its territory. As proof of it, it couldn't support its huge body, dragging itself through the ground slowly.

This was all in vain, thought Ziduur as he stared at the summoning circle he had inscribed in the ground with his own blood.

He certainly would have the upper hand if attacking them at sea. But, he was afraid of losing the Manual in the waters. Finding the semi-transparent object there would be near impossible.

If he didn't come back with the Manual, his master would destroy him. For sure.

Anxious, Ziduur decided to rush things.

At least the rain, that he had brought down using more of the Devil Jewel's power, was washing away the magic circle he used to summon the kraken and the other monsters.

"Go, steal the Manual, and kill the Sacred Dragon and all his followers."

Ziduur ordered the devils shaking his left arm, the only one he had left. The monsters advanced towards the Pao Train. They were half men half-fish known as soulsowers, and purple worms and gargoyles, with the kraken as their main force.

The soldiers of Pao were well ready to welcome them.

They dodged the anemone-like feelers of the purple worms and stabbed them with their lances, and cut down the hard scales of the soulsowers with their Battle Axes.

The problem were the gargoyles. Bleu was good against flying enemies like them, but they were too many. The ones he failed to finish off began chasing the retreating train. Bleu went after them, and the kraken after him, knocking down the soldiers in its way.

Its many legs, ondulating heavily like waves of a storm, stretched towards Bleu. If caught by one of those suction cups, he would be slammed down to the ground with no escape. Bleu made the best of his flying skills to fly around the kraken. Its huge body also proved itself terribly resistant to Bleu's lightning breath.

"Let's hit it while it's chasing Sir Bleu," Tyrin shouted. He was leading soldiers carrying Buster Shot cannons loaded with explosive bullets.

Estimating the timing of Bleu's and the soldiers' actions, he cast a Freeze spell. The cold storm assaulted the kraken while turning the falling rain into a hail. A soft part of the monster's body couldn't stand the attack and froze, white. The soldiers concentrated their shots there. The power of their weapons, built in Prompt thanks to the legacies of the Ancients, smashed the kraken's frozen skin.

Leaking blue blood, the monster's anger changed its color to black, and released its poisonous ink, the Aqua Breath, in the direction of Tyrin and the soldiers.

A soldier failed to dodge and was completely covered in the ink, perishing.

"Are you okay, Tyrin?"

Randolf came by after cutting a purple worm into slices, grabbing Tyrin's arm and carrying him to a safe place.

"Couldn't you be a little more gentle?" Tyrin yelled, with water dripping down his beard like a waterfall, and covered in mud. If he had enough energy to complain then he was just fine, Randolf laughed.

"Are you two alright?" Bleu had come back, worried. "Where's Camallia?" He asked, not seeing the girl there.

"She went after the gargoyles, to protect the train. Leave that place to the girls," Randolf said, pointing to the Pao Train, and then the kraken with his thumb, "our priority is doing something about that monster."

Water came down with no mercy on his open mouth.

The train's large shape could be only be dimly seen in the pouring rain. Because of that, it looked farther away than it really was, and Bleu felt anxious. An indescribable fear ran through his veins at the realization that he had left Karin somewhere he couldn't reach.

"Don't worry, Queen Koron and Camallia will handle the girls and the Manual somehow. You heard the King of Bustoke, you don't fight by yourself. We gotta do what we can in our area. Right now, that's defeating that monster," Randolf shouted, sensing Bleu's fear. The rain was so strong that being that loud was the only way to talk.

"Alright, let's do it Tyrin's way one more time. Randolf, you lead the remaining knights and open further the wound they made before. I'll deal with its movements and poison somehow."

Giving these short orders, Bleu flew once again.

Translation notes:

Devil Jewel is written 悪魔のジュエル, with my translation being as literal as it can be (I guess Devil's Jewel could also work, but my translation feels better as a name). However, this is exactly what the Jewel of Evil is called in japanese SF2 as well. They're clearly not the same jewel, as that one is blue, but I figured I'd note that.

Soulsowers. If you don't remember, they are fish enemies from SF2, and I'm using the same name the localization gave them so people can recognize them right away. Their japanese name however is completely different, インスマンス (Insumansu). The term seems to come from the H. P. Lovecraft novel "The Shadow Over Innsmouth", which features fish-faced people. The term インスマス面 (Innsmouth-face, sometimes spelled as インスマウス面 instead) seems to have become a general term for describing characters with fish-faces, or just distorted faces with wide eyes spread too far from each other, or at least that's the gist i got browsing pixiv and nnd. So that mostly explains the name, but I couldn't figure out if the spelling used here is another known alternative spelling or something unique to Shining. Don't ask me where the localization got soulsower from, though. I tried looking the term up and, I just get actual SF2 results lol.

In SF2, the kraken has eight legs and ten arms, here no distinction was made between arms and legs.

Also, Aqua Breath is not poisonous there, but I totally understand the writer changing it to something more threatening and deadly than bubbles. Curiously, Final Conflict, which was released a year after this novel, did include a kraken enemy variant in a different color that had poison attacks. Coincidence? Most likely, but why would I pass an opportunity to mention Final Conflict.

I'm somehow not done talking about the kraken, did you know that it really is coded to be weak to ice magic in SF2? But you don't have access to ice magic in that part of the game so it goes wasted. This was pointed out in at least one strategy guide so the writer might be referencing it. On the other hand though, Freeze is just supposed to be Tyrin's specialty anyway.

[sinfultray1408]

Scene Comparisons: -5-

My Life With Chaplin: An Intimate Memoir by Lita Grey Chaplin with Morton Cooper (pg. 49-54)

Wife of the Life of the Party: A Memoir by Lita Grey Chaplin and Jeffrey Vance (pg. 29-31)

With A Woman Of Paris completed, an announcement was made in the newspapers that Charlie Chaplin was preparing his most ambitious work to date, a full-length picture to be called The Gold Rush. It also said that he was casting about in search of a young actress to play his leading lady.

The newspaper announcement didn't imply that Charlie’s search was in the nature of a dedicated talent hunt, but it did mark a departure - at that point in his career - from his only nominal interest in discovering new talent and developing it to hopeful heights.

I wanted the part. And I decided to take the first major independent step of my life. I would go after it. My decision to try for the part was hardened by Merna's prediction that I wouldn't have the nerve. Mostly, though, I was just cocky and filled with enough intermittent self-assurance at fifteen to believe there was nothing I couldn't achieve if I put my mind to it. If I didn't get the part, I thought philosophically, who was to arrest me for trying?

On the Saturday morning when I set out for the studio of the Charles Chaplin Film Corporation, though, I was only a shadow of my former cocky self. I went largely because Merna's dare wouldn't let me backtrack. But I made her go with me, to bolster my faltering courage.

In the studio reception room I gave my name to the busy lady at the desk and bravely asked if Chuck Riesner were in. It had been a long while since I'd seen Chuck, and I had no right to expect him to roll out a red carpet, or even bother to come out to say hello. Besides, I might not be welcome on a Chaplin lot. The receptionist told us to wait and went to look for him.

Merna and I waited half an hour. Merna was fidgeting and I was just about ready to give up and run when Chuck Riesner flung open the reception room door and greeted me. He was genial, though not so spontaneously warm as he'd been in the past. He sat between Merna and me of the beige office sofa and asked, "Well, what can I do for you, Lillita?"

Okay, you big brave bluffer, I told myself. You've come this far on gall. Now how do you put what you want into words?

Somehow I got it out without sounding too childish. "I read that Mr. Chaplin's looking for a girl to play in The Gold Rush," I said with astonishing smoothness. "I've had a lot of dramatic training since I - ah - was here last, and I thought…”

Merna, so bold and confident outside, sat straight, not moving. I was entirely on my own.

Chuck regarded me and nibbled at his upper lip. Then, gently, he said, "You don't know much about the picture business, do you, honey? Nobody, not even an established professional, comes to a studio out of the blue to ask for a test. It's done through agents, and sometimes it's done through pull - a lot more pull than I have around here, by the way, for a feature part like this one - but it's never done this way."

"I'm…sorry." I was ashamed of myself, ashamed that Id shown myself to be so stupid and ashamed that he had the impression I'd come here to ask him to pull strings for me. His impression wasn't wrong, of course, but trying to take advantage of knowing him hadn't seemed this baldly aggressive to me earlier.

But Chuck wasn't sore. Rising, he smiled and said, "Look, I've got to hustle on back, but you young ladies are welcome to come along and watch us all go crazy in there if you like. What do you say?"

Of course we said yes. Chuck let us through the arcade onto the lot that was so familiar to me. Except for more flowers than usual, and some new greenery around the pool, and a new office that had been added, the studio looked no different than it had the last time I'd seen it.

The hustle and bustle were the same: the handpicked noisy crew not only knew their business, they knew how to get it done in minimum time and with maximum efficiency. Crossing the large, elevated shooting stage, we came upon the busy set, which consisted of the ramshackle cabin that was to be The Gold Rush's most important interior; it was tipped at a slant, suspended by pulleys.

Chuck moved us along through a maze of props, boxes, tangles of ropes and wires, cameras, chairs and bags of fake snow, and past a wired, machine the electricians were testing: I saw Mr. Chaplin in the distance, taking charge of everything and everyone, alternately shouting oaths and compliments. I thought he looked a little grayer, a little older - and, if possible, even more magnetic. He didn’t see Merna or me.

Chuck summoned camp chairs for us, placed them near a wall where we wouldn’t be in anyone’s way and excused himself. He hurried away. Everyone at the Chaplin studio hurried.

Merna was impressed, not only by the big league activity but by the fact that so many of the studio company recognized me at different points during the afternoon and stopped by for half a minute to say hello. I was impressed, too, and very flattered - but I wasn't about to confess that to Merna; maybe she knew what men were like in bed, but who knew her at any movie studio, let alone the Chaplin studio? I was recognized first that day by one of the prop boys, who must have told another prop boy, who spread the word that the Flirting Angel was on the lot. Mack Swain, the big funny walrus who played the bullies in some of the Chaplin pictures and whom Charlie sincerely admired, came by. So did the cameramen, Rollie Totheroh and Jack Wilson, who said they couldn't get over how I'd grown and how pretty I was.

And so did Henry Bergman, who greeted me with enthusiastic warmth. Henry was Charlie's studio sidekick, an upbeat, perennially jolly man who ran errands, worked in bit parts, sat in on the few story conferences held and served in general as a kind of court jester.

"Hey, does Charlie know you're here, beautiful?" he asked. I said that I doubted it. "Well, stick around," he suggested, "Charlie'll catch up with you. He's up to his neck today, but he doesn't miss a pretty face."

Henry was right. Minutes later I noticed him holding Mr. Chaplin's arm - Henry Bergman was one of the very few Chaplin employees who could get away with being this chummy with the boss - saying something I couldn't hear and pointing in my direction.

Mr. Chaplin looked our way and frowned. I went stiff; that frown could only mean that he recognized me immediately, remembered the embarrassment of the Mae Collins party years before and was going to have me summarily banished.

Instead, though still frowning, he waved. He turned his back to confer with a carpenter, but half a minute later he glanced at me again - this time, I sensed, in an effort to place me. Over the next hour he glanced at me again and again. Then I saw him in conversation with Chuck Riesner, and saw him looking at me for a moment longer than before. There seemed to be little question that Chuck was telling him why I'd come.

I tingled with embarrassment.

In a short while he came toward us. Merna froze. I was afraid I would be sick.

He took my hand, and his smile was affable. "Yes, yes, indeed," he said. "My 'Age of Innocence' girl! My word, what a young lady you've become…here, stand up, let me have a look at you." I stood, my hands still in his.

"Oh, splendid, splendid! Where've you been keeping yourself?"

"I've been going to school," I answered hesitantly, and then remembered to introduce Merna, who was in a state of shock.

Ignoring her, giving rapt attention to me, he was doing more than going through the motions of being polite to a visitor. He was clearly glad to see me, and as he turned me around again, cheerfully repeating how grown up I'd become, I could almost hear wheels clicking in his head.

It was near the end of the work day and most of the company was getting ready to leave for home, but Mr. Chaplin insisted on showing me the cabin set he and the crew had been struggling with. Merna tagged along. He ushered us “inside” the three-walled cabin and pointed through one of the windows to a complex series of pulleys. "We have some interesting technical problems here, and I think we're just on the verge of solving them," he said. He explained that in the picture, laid in Alaska, the cabin would look as if it were teetering precariously over the edge of a precipice, and he would attempt to squeeze every last ounce of suspense out of making the audience think the cabin, with him in it, would topple into the abyss. He took his time in explaining the technical problems, and it was obvious that he was thrilled to be so near mastering them.

It was obvious, too, that he was studying me as he talked and answered my questions. Walking us to the lot arcade, he said, "Chuck Riesner informs me you'd like to test for the part of the dance hall girl in the picture."

I blushed. "Well, it - uh - did seem like a good idea at the time," I acknowledged with a total absence of confidence. "I've had some dramatic training, and I thought - uh - but it was awful for me to come barging in and - ah -“

"Oh, come now, I'm delighted you did. Tomorrow morning - no, tomorrow's Sunday on Monday morning, call here and ask for Mr. Reeves. He'll work out the details and set up the test. We've tested a dozen others for the part, and we may have to test a dozen more. Who knows? Perhaps you'll be the right one for it." Patting my arm, he said briskly, “I must go now. You can find your way out, can't you?”

Not waiting for an answer, and still ignoring Merna, he strode back to the lot.

There was a reverent silence for a moment, like one that follows an awesome storm. “I’ll die,” gasped the sophisticated Merna. “I’ll just die…”

Merna Kennedy and I were still the very best of friends. We were talking one day about Charlie Chaplin and his work. Merna wanted to meet him. She said, "Why don't we go to his studio? I'll bet he's already forgotten about that misunderstand- ing with your mother. Just think about it."

During the next few days I did think about it and told Merna the next time I saw her, which was on a Friday when she was spending the weekend with me, that I would stop feeling embarrassed about what happened between Mama and Charlie. "What do you say we go to his studio tomorrow?"

“Good,” she said. "I'm glad I brought a nice dress."

I decided against telling Mama where we were going; instead I told her that Merle, Merna’s brother, would be driving us to the malt shop for a soda. Merle showed up about eleven in the morn-ing, and we girls were ready.

Merna and I arrived for a visit at Charlie’s studio on Saturday, 3 February 1924. We were lucky. Charlie was in the studio’s foyer talking to Alf Reeves. He was normally not found in that part of the studio.

He was astonished and full of enthusiasm when he saw me. “Why, it's my 'Age of Innocence' girl!" he said as he motioned to me to come near him. "You have grown to be quite the lady. Come here and stand next to me. I believe you're just my height." I was. We both stood five feet six-and-a-half inches tall. I noticed that his eyes were going up and down my body.

“You're just in time. I've been testing,” he said. "I'm looking for a brunette to play the leading lady in this picture I'm making. I can't seem to find the right girl. Would you like to test for it?" he asked me.

"Oh, that would be wonderful," I said.

Charlie had apparently forgot about the incident of almost three years ago, or he preferred not to remember it. "Well," he said, "you're a pretty girl and you're old enough. How old are you, Lillita? Sixteen? Seventeen?"

"Not really," I said. "I'm fifteen."

"Well, that doesn't matter. You look much older than your years. Remember?"

I knew then that Charlie remembered everything but preferred not to make a point of it.

I introduced Merna Kennedy, who asked Charlie what kind of film he was going to make.

“I'm making a film about the great gold rush of Alaska,” he said, "Do you remember your history?"

"Oh, sure," said Merna, blushing.

Charlie looked at me and smiled. "Well, what do you say, Lillita? Do you have time to make a test?"

Alf Reeves, who had been busy talking to a bookkeeper, joined us. "Alf," said Charlie, "tell Rollie I want to make a test of Lillita. It might just be that she's the one I've been looking for."

Charlie then excused himself. "I must go now, ladies. I have to look over some work being done on the cabin set."

Alf called Rollie Totheroh on the studio intercom, and I soon found myself being tested once again for a role in a Charlie Chaplin film.

On the way home, Merna Kennedy was full of excitement. "You see?" she said, "You never know what can happen if you're not afraid to take a chance. I told you that you had nothing to lose if you came by to see Mr. Chaplin, and now look what you have gained. You may be working for him again."

[fandomdaydreamer]

The Lighthouse and The Ocean

Pt 21

Without You Now

Pairing: Pedro Pascal/OFC

Warnings: angst, allusions to sex

Summary: Their first goodbye is clouded by a conflicting prediction but apart from a tiny worrisome detail, Nini is excited to record Pedro's song at Third Man Records.

Notes: Also find this fic on Ao3 -here- or the series' Masterlist and Playlist -here-

AN: If you're interested, I've included a YouTube vid of a tour at this wonderful interesting place called Third Man Records and an interview with JW III.

Length: 9k

~

Without You Now

The crew stood in a circle around me in the sunset dust, clapping and cheering for me once my last scene was finally wrapped up.

My character had ceased to exist while looking at her love with a smile on her face. We had left things unseen and unheard, giving a sense of hope rather than being lost in the notion that life had almost too much to offer.

I shed a tear, just a little one while the cameras kept rolling and captured my final bow and awe at the copious amount of applause surrounding me. I was absorbed in my colleagues' and friends' appreciation of my work and felt saddened in their midst about everything ending here. Pedro finally took pity and could no longer see me struggling to bear this kind celebration on my own. The uncharacteristically smiley cowboy drew me in for a hug, concluding the feeling that this was the end of an era. How could this have been only two and a half months? I spent a lifetime learning and growing here.

I couldn't imagine we'd be apart by tomorrow. We tried and failed to count the ample hours we had left until my departure but how could we not feel our time shrinking with such a sudden sense of loss when we had spent every minute of it together? Working and living in such proximity seemed worth a year of growing accustomed to each other as a new couple. Dreadful uncertainty behaved like clouds, obscuring my last hours in Mexico.

Today, like any other day, we took one final stroll around the gardens, partly in a prolonged ritual of dining and spending our evening together and partly, so I could say goodbye to the people here and the flowers. When the sun was long gone, our path took us back to our room where we got ready for bed and settled with the book we read together, like it was just any normal night.

I could keep telling myself that just one minute more in his presence would satisfy me for another lifetime. I wanted to be everything he ever wanted because I knew there was only one Pedro in the whole wide world, the only one I desired to be my everything. He was unique, he was here and in return, I was his truly, forever his. I wished to keep him here next to me in my arms when I laid my head against his shoulder and listened to his deep baritone.

While he kept threading his fingers through my hair, I yearned for the seasons to change and the time spent by his side that was yet to come. Six more hours until I would leave for the airport. I closed my eyes and pictured memories of every moment we had spent here together, behaving like strays in a timeless paradise who had been mostly unaware of any bitter endings. Other ways of figuring out how to be together waited right behind that door, down the aisle of that aeroplane and under the restless eyes of the public.

Pedro sighed, our Haruki Murakami book sinking to his chest when we had finished the chapter. "I promise we'll continue reading when we're back together again." He told me softly, awaiting any kind of reaction. After a while, he set the book aside along with his glasses.

I waited for a moment to escape the pessimistic thoughts that tightened around me in such a criminal embrace but it never came. I was afraid to lose us. "We won’t change, will we?" I relieved my troubling mind, sounding a bit hollow.

Pedro's chest rose, a deeply worried sigh escaping him and yet I felt a rush of determined energy passing through us. A kiss on my forehead remedied the frown on my face until I smiled again. "I won't let that happen." He whispered against it. His hand firmly traced my back and our silence brought nothing but peace to my mind. It was a quiet kind of affirmation, a sense of promise that he wasn't going anywhere.

From tomorrow on, we'd be separated again and I could not bear the thought, couldn't bear the thought that Señora Martínez's prediction spoke the truth. The memory of earlier today sparked sadness and insecurity inside.

"A palm reading?" I asked Pedro in a sceptical voice after he had translated what the old and wise Señora Martínez had offered me.

The deeply psychic woman sat in the low evening sun on her crooked stairs, back bent from old age. After she had beckoned us closer with one arthritic, wrinkled finger, she smiled a knowing smile that already made me believe in anything she would have to say. Naturally, I had never felt more put off or scared before in my life, shaking my head with vigour. "No, I can't. Palm readings can tell bad things too. What if-"

"Since when are you so pessimistic?" Pedro gave me a looped and confused smile, seemingly confident about a positive outlook, bless his soul. He leaned down to whisper when Señora still held out for my hand. "It would be rude to decline."

"You first, then." I challenged him, gesturing towards the elderly lady, who cooed contentedly as soon as my boyfriend asked for permission, sat on the stair below hers and placed his palm facing upward into her hand.

Señora's voice crowed. "Eres un alma gentil, sí," she told him. "Good man." She directed her words towards me specifically and smiled an almost entirely toothless smile. Pedro blushed through a chuckle.

I simply nodded enthusiastically. "Oh, I know." I rubbed his shoulder, affectionately, feeling more relaxed by the minute.

"Veo buen fortuna en tu vida con tu esposita." She declared with a gesture towards me and Pedro and I beamed at each other. She said all kinds of things I couldn't comprehend but I continued listening and watching her count the wrinkles underneath his pinky finger. "Mira- la linea de los niños. Uno, dos, tres niños."

Pedro's eyes widened. "Three? I'm f-" he stopped his curse from tumbling from his lips when Señora gave him a strict glare. "No, lo siento. Por favor, esto debe ser un error. I'm almost forty-seven years old, when's that supposed to happen?" He laughed ironically, maybe doubting the accuracy of palm readings too now.

I raised my eyebrows sceptically as well, imagining I could be the woman in this future vision and staring in shock into the void at the prospect of a whole brood of children. Until then, I thanked the stars for contraceptives.

'When' indeed. I could feel my face going pale. Pedro interrupted my train of thought just when I tried to figure out an important equation but he seemed to have interpreted my mortified expression as a sign of utter refusal. His smile trembled nervously. "Honey, don't feel pressured in any way by my old wrinkly palm."

"I told you, I'm a sceptic," I laughed it off, still inwardly panicking about the fact that I seemed to have lost track of my cycle entirely. Mentally, I was trying to count days and days, weeks back when I should have gotten my period.

"Are you sure you don't want to? It's... enlightening." Pedro ripped me out of my internal freakout.

"Eh.... m'okay then." Reluctantly, I knelt and placed my right hand into her open palm, anticipating what she had to say about my future.

The way Pedro held me, I knew he was not telling me something. His hand roamed up my arm and held me close, allowing me to tuck my head underneath his chin and close my eyes.

"I want to stop time," I told him faintly, both frowning and smiling bitterly against the light cotton t-shirt he wore. After filling my lungs with the scent of him, I exhaled deeply.

"Me too." He replied lowly. Pedro raised my hand to kiss the inside of my wrist and trace it to my ring finger like he imagined he could feel the little bump of an invisible wedding band. Maybe he could somehow, reduce the lines on my palm that predicted more misfortune than he had been willing to translate.

His voice took a joyful tone. "You know, I thought about taking you to my favourite little cinema just a little uptown, walks through Central Park when the leaves are turning brown. Maybe we could make a list of all the nook restaurants to visit, antique book markets in spring, picnics during summer." He said, treading on the future path we'd create ourselves, take matters into our own hands. It was our freedom to act on our wishes.

I closed my eyes and smiled, picturing us in said scenarios and scrunching my nose when I locked eyes with him again. "You didn't mention winter."

We exhaled the same kind of grin together. "Winter in New York sucks. Um, art galleries?" He promptly suggested. "Hey, maybe Sharon's vernissage still stands-" I snorted at his outrageous misplaced humour.

I roamed my palm across his broad chest, finally going back to simply relaxing. "I can't even imagine feeling cold now."

"We could hide out winter at my house in LA." He thought and though I loved every part of his idea, I let out a sound of protest.

"Christmas without snow?" I pouted and couldn't bare the loss of my favourite season. I was inclined to look up at him when he turned me on my back, facing me as he propped his hand underneath his chin.

"But Christmas is when the family meets up in Chile." He tried to gently get his will with that sly grin of his. "You don't wanna come and join the family trip with me this year?"

I gasped at the invitation and didn't mind him popping the romantic idea of cosiness and snow outside. Pedro was still very much a family man. "Let me introduce them to my beautiful, talented and-" His hand travelled down to prey on my weak spots and I prepared to be teased. I was already grinning and squirming to protect my sides while his soft voice lured me into this daydream. "-incredibly funny girlfriend who can kick my ass at hiking."

I started giggling when his hands purposely found my ticklish parts. "Yes, of course. I'd absolutely love... to- ah stop, no! I said I want to!" I escaped his hands and felt my heart slam in my chest at the sight of the happiness projected on his face. "Yeah?" He matched my giddiness.

I nodded happily, curling my fingers into the floof of his dark hair. "Allow me to buy your nephews gifts? Not just play secret Santa for my little sister this year."

"Thank you. I'm so lazy." Pedro replied with a dramatised amount of gratitude. I thanked the stars I had found the man I wanted to share all these things with, be my family and become his in return. I was too in love with him to imagine these feelings could ever do anything but grow with each and every day. I loved him like things of lightness are to be loved, out in the open somewhere between the sky and my soul.

Pedro looked between Señora Martínez and me, translating softly as she took a closer look at my love line. "She says our hearts are very old friends that always end up together in one way or another in each of our lifetimes, friends, lovers, family." He beamed happily but my elation at our newly recognised soulmate status was interrupted when she talked to us in a different pitch, frowning. "Ayayay. Unlucky little girl." Señora Martínez shook her head at my palm. "She sees a troubled beginning in your life and a lot of... suffering. Happiness has settled in your life though, you have a very fulfilling but difficult time ahead with a change of career-" Pedro raised his eyebrows at me as to say that, right, this was exactly what was happening. "You'll need to look after your health." Pedro hesitated with his translation, purposefully not mentioning her mumbling something about my odd, disrupted lifeline.

He stopped entirely, frowning when he skipped over a part I didn't understand myself. "What?" I asked, frantically looking back and forth between them and tried not to panic when he skilled his expression. I knew he wouldn't tell me the really bad news. "She just tells you there are two meaningful relationships in your life, both of them resulting in..." He swallowed and my gaze snapped up at her.

"Que significa 'sufrimiento?" I asked her and was met with a compassionate expression.

"Um, it means heartbreak." Pedro's voice sounded frail but he regained his cheerful spirit when Señora continued pressing her finger into my palm. "But she sees much love and life in your future, she says there are two children." He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Really?" I repeated, an octave higher than normal. "Two' children?" I pronounced the difference between our predictions.

Pedro was unaware of the worries weighing on my mind. "She says she's never erred in her life." He confirmed.

"Oh, that's reassuring." I protested, taking my palm back and bidding the wise old lady a polite thanks and extending goodbyes.

I squeezed her hand with both of mine and felt her gently tugging me back before I could let go. "Pase lo que pase, nunca te rindas con tus sueños." The old woman instructed me and I nodded, barely whispering a promise that I would never give up on my dreams.

"She has spoken." Pedro declared sternly to lighten up the mood, referencing a certain similarly wise Star Wars character he had gotten acquainted with. Not helping, I thought. We didn't match and everything would come back to heartbreak.

Slow steps took us down the path back to our hotel. "Palm readings don't tell anything that's written in stone." I crossed my arms stubbornly after we had walked back to the terrace.

"She didn't strictly say we're not compatible just that..." Pedro didn't know how to conjure up a different kind of interpretation. "We're both happy in our future. Nothing else matters."

"She clearly saw two different paths for us." I mourned, tried to explain my 'two meaningful relationships' and couldn't imagine I would ever love again if something severed our bond. It seemed extremely premature and downright scary, planning on starting a family and thinking about ever going through all of that before we even hit our one-month anniversary. I would count myself lucky if our careers allowed us to stay together. The idea of another heartbreak made me spiral. "Even if we were married and divorced one day, fair enough but not having the same number of children makes matters pretty clear," I evaluated, feeling overwhelmed until he gently pried my shoulders towards him and made me face him again.

"Hey, mi esposita-" he referenced Señora Martínez and cast a smile on my face. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna keep you on your toes unless 'you' show me out the door." He told me calmly and reassuringly, from the bottom of his heart. "Understood?" He added and caught my waist within his giant palms, raising his eyebrows encouragingly.

"Yeah." I grinned against his lips instead of kissing him. "You mean before or after I kicked you out because you had a child with someone else?" I pretended to be jealous of a hypothesis and snickered, bumping my shoulder into his arm once we'd continued our walk.

Pedro's jaw dropped. "Let's just promise to share custody, okay? I can't-" He babbled and succeeded to make me laugh. "And by the way, I'm pretty sure she meant that I've got one more kid than you because I have Grogu, my first." He joked and made me snort out loud.

"Ooh- that makes so much sense!" I exclaimed and we continued walking hand in hand, feeling at peace with where our path was taking us as our light conversation seemed to fade in the distance.

I felt Pedro drape the sheets further over my body. "This is the first time I have to let you go." His voice sounded so sad and I realised that perhaps it would never feel easier someday.

"Maybe the third man listens to one single note and he will send me on a plane back home immediately." I tried to console him, imagined Jack White frowning at my guitar plucking and just... leaving the room. My heart would shatter.

Pedro made a face like I couldn't get away with this utter nonsense. "No, you're gonna make all of them drop to the floor and worship you for your talent, you'll see." He promised me and traced his thumb over my cheekbone, seeming to feel conflicted about whether he wanted to look at me or kiss me. I pushed my face into his shoulder bashfully, which he chuckled about but also seemed to understand as a challenge. "Are you going to be good?" He asked sternly. A wide smile spread across my face at the fond but patronising tone.

"Yes." "Will you kick some ass?" I giggled when he raised my chin with his finger. "Yes." "That's my girl." Pedro tugged at my chin with a wink and I hoped the moisture in my eyes would not develop into tears. "The world needs more badass female guitar players, that's for sure."

A shallow sigh escaped my lips. "You really think so? I still don't even know what kind of musician I am."

"You're a rock star." Pedro encouraged me and his grin softened while he sought out his words. "Though... when you play your quiet folk songs, it's the definition of pin-drop music. You know, sometimes I think it's like some people carry the sun in their voices and some the moon. They differ in tone but not in beauty." He let his bloomy descriptions spill over, trailing soft patterns on my hip underneath the covers and pulling me closer while I hung to his every word. The pools of his dark eyes shone with admiration and his voice dropped impossibly deep. "I feel I could compare your voice to the soft glow of winter moonlight." His sweetness caused my heart swell and glow brightly. A sudden uncontrollable need made me kiss at every bit of skin I could reach and sample some of that sweetness he seemed to have been made of.

Pedro huffed in amusement at my reaction. I lowered my face into the junction of his neck, rolling my body into his and begging for the sexy part of our evening. "Heartbreaking. Beautiful." He managed to say before giving in and he pulled me with him, first to extinguish the bedside lamp on his side and then on mine after he had rolled on top of me.

I hummed, forgetting every bit of worry at his heartwarming happy chuckle. I breathed out as I opened my legs for him and framed his hips to pull his weight down on me. "You can say such nice things." I shuddered at the slight sting of his teeth biting into my skin and for the first time in months, I let him.

He worshipped me with hot, open-mouthed kisses, sucking at my skin from my neck to my jaw. "I had time to think about that description. I might have swooned over you to a couple of people." Pedro confessed with a smirk against my lips. I cooed and draped my arms around him, giving myself to him when he claimed my mouth in a searing hot kiss.

Tonight, I could sense a quiet kind of urgency beating inside his chest which I sought to remedy with a gentle touch to whichever body part of his seemed to need a reminder of my devotion. I could relate, for I felt his presence healing this tightening feeling inside my chest.

I begged him for the dark purple marks his mouth would leave on my body. Pedro sank his mouth down my jugular, wet heat closing around my skin and bruising it when I couldn't get enough evidence of where he could put his signature on my body. A reminder that I was his, even with them fading with time.

I buried myself in his arms and he stole the breath from my lungs, kissing me and making tender love to me. Pedro seemed starved to fill his fix and not less able to satiate, drawing out our entwined state of being for as long as his body could withhold the release.

In the calm of the afterglow, I closed my eyes in worship of his warmth and basked in the feeling of being so wanted in return. We felt more like the comforting heat of glowing ambers rather than the intensity of a fire burning strong and bright and it felt like something had to ring true about kindred spirits. I had found the most comfortable position right in his arms and gotten so sleepy that even my hand had stopped exploring his skin.

"Don't fall asleep," I whispered drowsily, looking towards him with heavy eyelids and realised he had them already closed. "M'not. Just... resting my eyes." He replied with a raspy voice and I sighed contently when I found him struggling to stay awake just as much. I let myself drift away when I was sure he had lost the battle against sleep first.

~~~

The clouds below looked like pale cotton candy while I tapped the end of my pencil against my bottom lip in the absence of my mind. I was scribbling away time on my flight to Tennessee, hoping the only reply wouldn't remain the echo of a memory. But just like always, Pedro gave me something I could dream about. At least nothing's complicated in solitude, I thought and wrote down the name of the song I had dedicated to him.

The Lighthouse And The Ocean

"You and me, in guidance and saviour or in reverse, my darling," I said to myself softly, missing the distant light in his eyes and the sparkle in their reflection whenever he watched me accomplish something and pride myself on it.

I drew waves and seagulls around the page as I imagined the melody of my guitar play paired with the harmonising sound of a cello. Mouthing the song to myself, I felt like I had written something truly meaningful.

I had managed to finish the new song during our first hours of separation and had written the final lines into a proper notebook. How sappy of me, a love confession at last. A perfect moment I could wait for a little while longer and look forward to until I could show his song to Pedro for the first time. It was written with so much love and yearning, for his absence was more than just noticeable.

His fragrance was deeply embedded in the highly huggable, striped hoodie I had stolen from him and when I pulled the knitted material to my nose, a picture found its way to the back of my eyes. A dimpled smile in front of a blue ocean, simply perfect and full of contentment. It distracted me from everything else, clinging to the fabric and smelling like what warmth felt like. A subtle dark scent, a cue for masculinity and protectiveness wrapped itself around me in a caring embrace. He had climbed into my heart and fixed himself there like a pin on a map, marked himself onto paper between my recorder and a flute of orange juice. No champagne... just in case.

An anxious feeling spread inside my chest and my hand redirected to rub at the pendant around my neck instead of travelling down my body. I didn't dare to cover my belly with my hand, out of fear that I'd start to sense some kind of connection I hadn't felt before. There had been too many people with cameras at the airport and I hadn't been able to buy a test then. I had been pushing the slight possibility of being pregnant to the back of my mind but it gnawed at my stress level the more I thought about the mere concept of having a baby.

What little else I could think of other than picturing Pedro with our child, happier than he ever was, raising it into the air with a laugh on both their faces before he kissed their chubby little cheek.

All of that and more... including putting everything on hold instead of grasping for the stars.

I hid behind my hand to mask my conflicting feelings about motherhood, both our skyrocketing careers and the fact that it was way too soon for either Pedro or me.

I thought about my mum. A new wave of sympathy shone on her memory. Despite everything, she had been the kindest and most gentle mother to me. Pedro would be the best father in the world, I was sure of that. I wasn't so sure whether I would be a good mother.

The world below just looked too wide and promising when we breached the clouds.

I walked out into the light, a cooling hum of North wind joining the scent of country and kerosine across the airfield. The air was no longer sweet and spicy. Still, I breathed long and thoroughly when I stepped out of the plane and let a chilly wind blow around my hair. Compared to the sunny warmth of Mexico, the midwest felt like negative degrees, yet the sudden shift of priorities was enough to brace me against the cold. On this bleak autumn day, I found there was an invincible summer within me and a clear path ahead.

I typed Pedro a message next, letting him know I landed and saw he'd tagged me on his Twitter. I grinned at the distraction of his recent Tweet, a picture of the consolation prank I had left on the pillow of his bed.

'My girlfriend thinks she's funny', it read and I retweeted the pineapple fruit that wore his aviators with a thick moustache I had nicked from the make-up team.

'Javier Piña'. I retweeted at him, giggling to myself at the possibly best way of how the announcement of our relationship could have gone.

I pulled out of the airport with my guitar case and the usual travel dirtbag look with the addition of Pedro's hoodie. This time, there were no cameras to capture my arrival as I walked toward the exits.

Halfway through the doors, I saw my agent waiting for me by the gate, grinning with her hands placed in her pockets. "There she is!" Olivia squeezed me after I had run into her arms to hug her. "On a scale from one to ten, how excited are you?"

"Eleven!" I felt sick in anticipation and showed her my shaking hands she failed to soothe. I admired her flawless, sharp blue eyeliner complimenting her high cheekbones and dark skin. "Where do we go? Is the band already there?"

"As well as the cellist you requested before your plane took off." Olivia chastised me with wide eyes, retrieving part of my luggage and walking towards the exit with me.

I had the decency to at least look guilty at the bold challenge I put her through on such short notice. "Sorry." I smiled up at her. "I just think my new song would benefit from-" "Well, long as you're happy. Guess where I found them." "The cellist?" "Playing in a New York subway station, today. Luckily, they immediately agreed to play with you and came with."

The spontaneity of this situation caused my eyes to widen dramatically. "You like picking up strays, huh?" I referred to the night we had met, when she had taken me under her wing, had literally picked a young and lost me up the floor of a hotel corridor. She both laughed and sighed as put her arm around me again, maybe also to subtly cover the hickey on my neck.

My so familiar gold and orange hues turned to blues and greys as tall and shiny buildings came into view. She steered us off the highway and away from the billboards that advertised lawyers or promoted... Christian slogans that promised that 'your baby is a blessing'.

"-because there's a big divide between substance and nonsense in pop culture these days." Liv talked on but I hadn't been listening at all. "They like to channel this substance, make it genre-less."

I returned the occasional non-verbal sound of attention.

"Welcome to the Gulch," Liv announced and I knew I should have said something. "You're awfully quiet." She noticed, glancing at me as I leaned my temple against the cool glass.

"Yeah," I commented, squirming in my seat and acting skittish at every bump in the road. "I just... hope I'll fit in. First time I don't know how to act because I don't have to play my part, you know?"

Olivia nodded. "Then be yourself." She replied pragmatically.

"Well, I appreciate the advice but..." I grinned a bit awkwardly, finally daring to do something about my uncertainty. If I was pregnant, I won't be able to do all the things I was currently dreaming of. No concerts, no backstage parties, just responsible adult things with a little human to care for. "Liv, can I ask you for a favour? Can we stop at the next pharmacy?" My face heated up in embarrassment.

"Yeah, are you alright?" "Of course, I swear I don't have a problem." I gave back, a little too harsh. I'd rather have her think I had. My inability to stay cool turned into an advantage and so, I acted nervous and pretended to have told an obvious lie.

Olivia shook her head. "I hope you have a prescription for that." "Don't need one." "Nini, there are healthier ways to cope with-" "I'm okay!"

"Alight, sorry... Jeez, what got your panties in a twist?" Olivia sceptically eyed my insulted pout. "I think there's a Walgreens down there, think you'll find what you need?"

I sighed at the prospect of a possibly crowded place. "Yeah, sure. That'll work." She stopped right in front of the store and I donned my sunglasses, treating her to a thin smile before I sprinted out of the car and ran in.

"Clearblue rapid detection... or First Response?" I panicked at the insanity of needing this 'family planning' section and figuring out their variety of products, always checking if anyone could be watching. I snatched a pregnancy test and a random other package to conceal my buy before anyone could see, keeping myself hidden behind my sunglasses and assumed the cashier didn't know who I was. Perhaps the funny look on her face was merely the result of my weirdly frozen smile as she scanned the test and pack of random vitamins and painkillers.

With the test hidden underneath Pedro's hoodie, I skipped back to the car and let out a huge breath of air as soon as I was back inside.

"That's it? Paracetamol and Vitamin D? You look like you've had plenty of sun." I ignored her, not caring how insane I acted and only getting rid of my sunglasses once we were one street ahead.

I was panicking internally to stack my pregnancy test away before mum could see. "I should have changed. I should have changed clothes before meeting bloody Jack White. I look like a slob." It was like I had been bitten by a rattlesnake before I climbed into the back, right between the seats. It was all part of the scheme. "Do you mind?" I was already behind the driver's seat, shimmying out of my baggy ripped jeans and Pedro's comfortable clothing.

Olivia kept her eyes on the road while I checked my suitcase for a pair of all-black jeans and a turtle neck that conveniently hid my hickeys. The jeans were halfway up my thighs when she slammed the brakes and I banged against her seat. The pregnancy test flew off my lap and underneath the driver's seat, sliding until it met Liv's feet. "Kut!"

"Watch the fucking road, asshole!" She yelled. "Fuck, sorry." Liv honked at the car in front of us again while I got a grip on myself and hopelessly tried to reach for it. "Wait, don't. It's just-" "Hold on, let me grab-" she pressed through her teeth and before I could protest, had bent down while waiting at the stoplight, to retrieve the test for me.

An awkward silence followed when Olivia checked the package. "Nini!" She suddenly turned around and I shrunk back into the seat. "What the hell is this? Oh, you think you're being sneaky again, huh? My g... are you-" Her eyes widened in horror like my baby was her worst fear.

"It's green!" I yelled back instead of properly answering, trying to get the test back before she could threaten to throw it at me. My voice shot up an octave as we fought for the test. "And no, I don't know! That's why I have to take a bloody test, for fuck's sake! Ow." She tossed the test back at me and it dodged my shoulder.

I could see her eyes through the rearview mirror flipping back and forth as I violently pulled my turtle neck over my head and sobbed childishly.

"No wonder why you're acting so weird," Olivia tutted at me and finally seemed to have gotten over the worst shock. "How late's your period?" She asked calmly as we drove into a bleak neighbourhood.

I sniffed, getting myself together. In all this muddle, there was a potential new life and how could I guarantee its wellbeing if its mother was acting like a petulant child herself? "Fuck." I laughed out loud, feeling simply overwhelmed. "About two weeks? I might have skipped it entirely, I don't know!" I admitted.

"Okay." Olivia processed slowly as she continued driving. "Let's not jump to early conclusions. Are you experiencing nausea?" "Not really." "Breasts feel tender?" "No?" "Girl, weren't you burned out about a week ago?" She asked, repeating how I had explained my holiday to her. "I was," I admitted.

She seemed visibly more soothed and it rubbed off on me. "Damn... oh, sweetheart. Take the test, okay? But don't freak out until then. You just might have been under a lot of stress."

I sighed at her lack of ability to take this seriously.

"Does Pedro know anything about your... scare?" She asked and I got overwhelmed by the thought alone. "No. I didn't have the time yet." I got more annoyed by the second. "Not sure if I should if it's a false alarm." I realised I was spiralling into old patterns before I even finished my sentence. Shit. There was my next level of progress. I had to tell him either way.

"Good." She helped me calm down. "Keep your head in the game, have the meeting with Jack and then pee on the stick tomorrow morning."

"Easy peasy." I gave back in a monotone. An incoming message distracted me and I was both hoping and fearing it was Pedro.

16:05 - 'Hey-, he had spelled my moniker with a music note, a bird and a heart emoji. 'Glad you're ok. Nervous? You got this, baby!!!

I typed a quick message back, promising I'd call him tonight and sent at least a dozen hearts in response to his selfie with him making a kissy face at the camera.

"Oh, god he's so adorable." I whined to myself and sighed. "He's such a sweetheart, I know he'd be such a great dad. Liv, I'm gonna be honest, I love Pedro but I'm not ready for a baby, not now." I had finally admitted, closing my burning eyes and praying I could deal with this situation in case I really was pregnant with his child and the sheer impossible, outrageous idea of getting rid of it.

"Poor thing." She commented and then changed her attitude with a fond look on her face. "Love, huh?" She repeated and I nodded, smiling again.

Olivia tapped her ringed fingers onto the steering wheel along with the sounds of a Stax classic... that ironically used the word 'baby' way too many times. "You're both gonna fine, you'll figure it out, hm? Breathe."

I hadn't even realised we had stopped but we waited, patiently, while I breathed and calmed myself. The dark warehouse outside seemed modest enough to conceal an entire music empire.

Maybe it was due to the countless times in my life when I had needed to pull myself together, but I knew that acting professional was more important than my current problems. "I'm ready." I decided after a while and blew a strand of my hopelessly wild hair from my face.

Though I missed the warmth Pedro's hoodie had provided, the reason why I shivered was due to my utter restlessness. The excitement was still very real and rooted in the very deep personal connection I felt towards the artist within.

Liv led me and my guitar case off the grey street and towards the low building before we finally stood before its entrance. Bold letters below a static Tesla coil inflamed the black walls. Third Man Records headquarters, the birthplace of the vinyl record Renaissance.

"Hey." She grabbed my shoulders, searching for eye contact for the stern pep talk she gave me. "You got this. You're gonna go in there and show them what it is that you want in life, woman. Focus."

"Focus," I repeated after her, letting out a huge breath through hollow cheeks and looking up towards the door. "Hoo boy." I swallowed at the sudden notion that my dreams might come true here. If they liked me. If they liked my music... which nobody heard aside from my perhaps very biased partner. Fuck, that suddenly added a lot of pressure.

"Anything I should be aware of, beware of maybe?" I asked, sorting out my priorities and hyping myself up with the notion of making a good first impression on my music idol.

"No, they're all so cool here, it's ridiculous." Liv stopped. "Wait, there's one thing." She hesitated, foot stuck between the door as her eyes narrowed. "Don't mention the Black Keys."

I gaped like a fish. "Who?" I pretended to not know the band and provoked a rare full smile from her. "Exactly."

"Wow." I held my breath as soon as I stepped inside. I didn't know where to look and didn't know what else to do but to move around and exclaim a 'woah' in front of every exhibited bit of unique analogue machinery. It wasn't just a record store, it was a pilgrim sight for true music junkies.

The sound of an electric blues guitar rang through the novelty lounge, reflecting off the yellow and black walls. From the corner of my eye, I registered Olivia walking ahead further into the building. "I hear, Jack's waiting for you in the blue room. Ready to meet the Rock'n roll wizard?"

My fingers stopped dancing over the racks of released vinyl issues. "Wait, that's him playing?"

We walked across the high-gloss floor past the fascinating knick-knacks, into the venue. A distortion pedal overloaded the signal and made the guitar sound rude. Liv stepped aside so I could join.

A few people were sound checking together, busy jamming in a blue bar with a giant elephant head and Persian rugs covering a blue floor. Cables and wires were splayed out everywhere around instruments that connected to amplifiers, mics and more pedals.

Jamming with a diverse group of people, he had his back half turned, facing the other musicians and bopping his head to the rhythm. The source of a wicked guitar play was rooted in the steady thrum of his fingers on the neck of his electric. Jack laughed at a particularly odd and mellow sound the pedal caused and which a badass-looking female drummer hesitated to address.

Jack dressed like a Tim Burton character who wore a pinstripe suit and hair that was a rich artificial bubblegum blue. His skin was white as a ghost and his mephistophelian eyebrows were drawn together in concentration, eyes closed as he was lost in figuring out the new sound. Skilled and unmistakably his, was what I would have called his play.

I would have been content with listening for ages until Jack looked up from his guitar and spotted me in my corner of the room.

"Oh, my Lord." He mumbled amused and caused all heads to turn towards me. He put away the guitar and stood at full height, which was taller than I had expected even after he had gotten off the stage. At first sight, he was a good-looking man, a little scary or perhaps, I was just battling my nerves. He had a wicked glint in his eyes and a placid smile that confidently supported his bad boy appearance. "Nini, welcome to Third Man." He quickly offered me a hand and pressed it with a calloused palm. His smile was sympathetic and his handshake sturdy enough to make me feel taken seriously and not like a fragile little flower some newly acquainted men decided was the proper way to greet me.

Before I could even respond, he checked out my guitar case. "Is that a Takamine?" He pointed at my instrument, reading the label.

I gulped. Be cool, I told myself against all instinct to freak out. If these guys were supposed to be the epitome of chill, so could I. "A nineteen-eighty-eight limited edition. Half acoustic." I replied proudly, still star-struck.

"Nice sound that one, can't wait to hear it."

"I'm afraid I need new strings though." I gave back, humbled. "It's-" I gathered my courage. "Amazing to meet you, Jack. This place is beautiful." I knew my eyes were sparkling when I finally thawed under his friendly words of 'thank you's. "My, I think I was a little girl last time I saw you at a White Stripes concert in Amsterdam."

He and also everyone else smiled at my admission. "No kidding." Jack kindly didn't freak out at my fangirlish approach. "Wait, Nini van Fleet was at my gig as a kid?" He turned towards the group of strange musicians who chuckled at our interaction.

"I was about ten meters away from the stage, it was incredible." "Wait, when was that?"

I remembered it like it was yesterday. "2005, Heineken Music Hall. You and Meg got out there, you started playing 'Black Math' on your iconic red airline guitar and just blew my mind." I laughed at the memory of that wild adventure. "Literally the day my life changed forever," I told him with shining eyes and it might have sounded like a blatant exaggeration but if it hadn't been for the White Stripes, I'd have never run away from home. My life would have looked a whole lot different.

Jack picked up a cigarillo that had been smoking abandoned in an ashtray. "Well, happy to see you back around. Hold on, meet the people you'll be playing with." He led me towards a group of people I immediately vibed with even before we all got introduced. Bass, drum, second guitar and keyboard, including a very sweet and somewhat shy cellist who wore second-hand clothes and thick, askew dreadlocks and couldn't quite believe they were here.

"And now you want to show your talents to the world?" Jack put his hands on his hips. "Heard great things about you." I was pleasantly surprised by his softness even though he seemed to constantly scowl at the world.

"I can only hope to live up to whoever boasted." I joked with a sideglance towards Olivia. "Yeah. I learnt these days how much I want to be valued for what I say and what I do, not be sold as an object on screen, you know."

"It's common to confuse the actor with their character." He agreed, crushing his cigarillo. "The perfect Hollywood sweetheart?" A shaggy blond guy named Ben suggested with a disapproving yet sympathetic side glance. I quickly got the notion. The spirit of the analogue: yea, Netflix and invisible consumption: boo.

I stuttered awkwardly. "Maybe this career change is good for me. I've got more to give." I compromised.

"So, your music is something you seriously consider pursuing." Jack narrowed his eyes when it took me a while to search for words. "It's unusual for us to promote an artist who's already famous, normally we favour newcomer artists."

I couldn't stop my heart from sinking to the floor and I swallowed thickly. "I get it. I would be hesitant too about giving a possibly delusional and mediocre and entitled Hollywood brat a platform." I played it off but then, felt all of my suppressed anger for the movie industry pour into my rant before anyone could interrupt my assumption. All my career, I'd been patronised, spoken down to. I had sometimes been the only woman on set, often for the accessory of the film, sexualised from a very early age. They called me an overprivileged actress because I hadn't been my own spokesperson in productions made by throbbing misogynists.

"I'm tired of being a prop, Jack," I explained, briefly looking back at Olivia and receiving support from her by a simple, yet encouraging nod. "I love acting. Acting is my life but I've never stood for something authentically me. This... my songs... this is me and I'm tired of the public dictating my image. I have so much more to give, and so much more to learn. I spent the majority of my life trying to appeal to people who don't even care about a single word that comes out of my mouth." I laughed ironically but Jack listened, taking my passion seriously. "I'm done with being acceptable to people I don't even like. Doing this will keep me from resenting myself and hopefully inspire people to be more than what society expects of women." I raised my chin at the guitar hero in challenge. "Especially in a male-dominated field."

Standing before me with crossed arms, his face remained unreadable for a second. "I like you." Jack eventually said with a relaxed, little smirk and a sigh of relief got stuck in my lungs. "Tell you what we're gonna do." He went back on a serious note, proving what a great boss he was by saying exactly what it was he wanted. "You've got a great band here... and time to create your songs before you're gonna record the blue issue single directly onto acetate. A shoot in the blue room, pressing and release-"

"Wait, directly?" I repeated, aghast, not moving past that little detail.

He smirked. "Yeah, any mistakes make the best part of the song. You know, let's just have a great journey, we're not story driven but if the record is good, who cares? Don't worry about the perfection of the songs, anyone who complains about it didn't really get the point."

Olivia was right. They were cool. Too cool, even to bother when the pitchforks of this biased industry would try to come for me.

"So, no pressure, just don't think about things that could ruin it," Liv added and regarded my pale face with a meaningful side glance.

"Think the music world is ready for what you have to contribute?" Jack frowned and awaited my answer.

I stood my ground and balled my hands into fists. "Yeah," I confirmed.

"Good, let's give you the tour." Jack carried himself with such swagger, I forgot to follow him for a second while he had already resumed talking back in the novelty lounge. "We'll do a couple of hundred limited edition design records back in Detroit and a big run of black vinyl for mass market," Jack explained, all business. "Bigger name artists are selling more vinyl than they have in thirty years. We love doing gimmick albums but we don't throw all of our tricks into the sink. Excuse my French-" he had turned to lead the way. "-but we're not trying to fuck a doughnut, you know."

I leaned over to Olivia as we followed. "What does he mean?" I whispered but she shrugged her shoulders.

The surreal uniqueness of this place surpassed my entire imagination and I marvelled at this music video thing called a scopitome. It felt like I had gotten a golden ticket to a chocolate factory and curiosity fare but for music nerds. "You're Willy Wonka," I exclaimed during our tour.

Just like that, it seemed the ice was broken. "It's been already fun meeting you, so far." He glanced back over his shoulder and we shared a quick laugh, which he ended with a shake of his head.

Ben lead us to a large booth. "And this-" he got my attention back from a diorama of a little puppet monkey band. "-is the voice-o-graph, nineteen-forties vending machine. The only one still in use apart from its twin down up in Detroit." The co-founder introduced a narrow and very old cabin that had more features in common with a telephone box rather than anything to do with music.

"Amazing!" I said, staring like an idiot. "What does it do?"

Jack stepped in, showing me a clear, six-inch plastic record, twirling it between his fingers. "It records one of these plastic records that fit two and a half minutes of music. It cuts your record and fends it out to you."

"That's bloody brilliant!" I cursed around, exhilarated. An idea struck me. My chuckle sounded dim in the very limited space of this booth. "I can barely fit a guitar in here." I calculated, eying the analogue technology of the recording system. "But I wanna try though, if I may?"

"Show us what you've got." Jack said and I grinned at the very 'hands-on' approach. I ran back to retrieve my instrument and tuned my guitar on my way back to them.

It only cost a couple of dollars to feed the booth. "It's... my choice of song for the B side with only guitar and cello. I just realised the first time I ever play it would be the perfect gift for the person I wrote it for. My-" I hesitated, not wanting to seem like every song I had written was about a lover. Pedro and I hadn't been dating for very long. I knew Pedro was the one but they didn't know that. "My boyfriend," I admitted anyway, shyly.

"Sure, go ahead." They let me in and shut the door behind me. I couldn't move around much. "Tight squeeze. Glad I'm not claustrophobic!" I yelled and heard them snicker. I stepped towards the mic, noticing this was my first-time experience recording one of my own songs in front of other people, or anyone who wasn't Pedro, for that matter.

"Oh, this is all terribly exciting!" The lights told me to prepare myself, machinery whirred and I watched all kinds of things happening in here. The red light alerted the start of the recording, the countdown started and I decided to jump into cold unknown waters by closing my eyes and letting the world cease to exist for a moment. This was for him.

"Hello, Pedro," I spoke into the mic after the recording had started spinning. "This is for you, just a reminder of how much I love you, angel."

I began with a calming, yet complex tune that was only dimmed by the use of a deeper and richer sounding drop of the E-snare to D. Softly, my voice smoothed over every syllable. My eyes remained fixed shut so I could feel every ounce of the words I sang, with every fibre of my being.

This one would show Pedro how great my love is. My love language was to sing his praise and dedicate my music to him because he deserved it. That's how it was. Good people do good things, and good people deserved to become a song. Seconds left until the record would end, I only played the echo of my jagged melody.

Once the record was complete, the booth played it for me and I listened with the door open, so Jack and the others could hear it too.

The audio quality did some real crimping and I had cut several chorus parts short but it had a forties nostalgic charm to it that put a smile on everyone's face, including my cellist who listened attentively and mimed the play of their instrument along with the melody.

I wiped a tear from my eye when I exited the booth and breathed, smiling happily at the band who seemed touched by the sweetness of the song. I circled my now pressed record in my hand. "I didn't know how else to say it," I commented on its sentimental message and sealed Pedro's song into a cover, ready to be sent by post.

Jack smiled, understanding passing through us when his voice thawed. "How, if not in music?"

Looking into the faces of my company, I had struck a chord within them. "It's beautiful," he said in a serious tone. "You're really... really fucking good. Hold on." Jack stepped closer and feeling intimidated, I hugged my guitar a little tighter. "Do you have more of these?"

"Yes?" I stuttered. "Tons."

He turned towards Ben and mouthed a 'wow' at him, causing me to blush furiously.

It was like I could see the determination turning a switch inside his head. "Play with me." He challenged me, holding my gaze. "Tomorrow night. The venue is open, we'll do something together."

I gaped like a fish and if I hadn't been so eager, I might have cried. I gasped. "Oh, sweet! Fuck, yes!" I didn't know how to vent my excitement about this development.

A wide grin spread across my entire face and played it cool last second by bumping my fist into his shoulder and making everyone around feel the celebration of the start of something new.

~

Part 22

Translation notes:

(sp): Eres un alma gentil, sí - (eng): You are a kind soul, yes

(sp): Veo buen fortuna en tu vida con tu esposita. - (eng): I see good fortune in your life with your little wife.

(sp): Mira- la linea de los niños. Uno, dos, tres niños. - (eng): Look- the line of children. One, two, three children.

(sp): No, lo siento. Por favor esto debe ser un error - (eng): No, I'm sorry. Please, this must be a mistake.

(sp): Pase lo que pase, nunca te rindas con tus sueños - (eng): No matter what happens, never give up on your dreams.

(sp): Javier Piña - (eng): - Javier Pineapple

(dut): Kut! - (eng): cunt ("fuck!")

[lunarflux]

"i felt your arms reach for help, and not a muscle in my body could keep me from holding onto you so tightly"

lee felix x reader

genre — fluff!au

tw: suggested abusive relationship

suggested background music: x

note: i like to put a bit of my life into my writing - i had a dream the other night that i saw my abusive ex and hid behind a member of skz lol

You never usually went out on the weekends. It's always been that way. Maybe once a month, you'd entertain the occasional invite out for dinner and drinks, but it had been a while since you'd gone out so casually with your small group of friends.

Clubs were always dark, and you were never the type to run into the crowd. So there you stood by the bar, watching your friends as you nursed your beverage, the sweat from the glass dripping down to the floor. You wanted so badly to have fun, but this just wasn't your scene anymore.

After the departure of your ex-boyfriend, you realized just how much you missed out on. Your friends no longer waited for you because they'd just expected you to say no. It took over a year to realize your relationship had grown toxic, and no partner should ever keep you from experiencing life. Being in a relationship meant sharing a life - not becoming someone else's.

The need to be alone washed over you, remembering the last argument with your ex over reprioritizing your life. To him, friends came second. You just couldn't live like that anymore.

You're free now - and you still haven't adjusted to that feeling.

Club patrons would stand next to you and try to strike up a conversation, but as cold as ever, you avoided their gaze and sipped from the now watered down beverage, still dripping down your hand.

One in particular didn't try to talk to you. In fact, he stood at the bar much like you did, checking his watch, his phone, whatever he could to seem occupied. He glanced at you every now and then. Through the chaotic lights, he'd catch your eye, and he'd smile.

All you could see were the faint hints of the freckles scattered across his cheeks.

After about the fifth time noticing him check his phone, you leaned over. "Did your date bail on you or something?"

He chuckled. "No. I'm just killing time, so my friends stop bugging me about hanging around their apartment so much."

The conversation died as soon as it started, but you two stayed in place. You'd toast with him to every new glass, and then you'd go back to how you were - standing by the bar, killing time.

"y/n - "

Steadying yourself, you looked past your freckled partner only to find a familiar - unwelcome - face.

Staring your ex in the face for the first time in three months, the only thing you could do was stare. Your legs locked in place, and it felt like this club was just another nightmare.

"What are you doing here -" The familiar stranger took a step towards you.

It was a reflex.

All at once, you dropped your glass and found yourself gripping onto the denim sleeve of your drinking partner.

The blonde looked down at you, noticing the vice grip on his arm. He swore he could feel the tension built up within you as you just stood there, holding onto him like a scared child even though he was nothing but a stranger for the night.

Your view changed, and now you were looking at his back. Your drinking partner stood in front of you, his hand holding yours protectively.

"Can I help you?" He said to your ex who merely examined the sight before him like it couldn't possibly be happening.

"You her boyfriend?" Your ex spat with a matching sneer.

"I said, can I help you."

Trying to maneuver around your shield, he laughed, and it was a cruel sound. "So two years just in the fucking trash, and now you've moved onto this guy?"

You whispered into your protector's sleeve. "Please leave."

"Go - " The still nameless blonde nodded his head towards the crowd. "Before I call security for harassment."

"No need." Your ex took a swig of his drink. "You can have her."

The interaction only lasted a minute, but you swore you couldn't breathe. They never tell you about this kind of aftermath from a bad breakup. You were supposed to feel elated that this villain was out of your life after years of over-controlling behavior and manipulation tactics. This was supposed to be your new life.

Still stuck in place, you followed robotically as your protector pulled you up the stairs and out into the street. It was only then that he let go of your hand to cradle your face, wiping away the tears from your cheeks with his thumb.

"Are you okay?"

"I -" You let out an uneasy breath. The fresh air almost hurt to inhale. "Yes, I'm fine. I just didn't.... expect to see him so soon."

"What's your name?"

"y/n"

"y/n, my name is Felix. Have you eaten yet?" He took off his hat and placed it on your head, securing it tightly like it was a new shield to keep you safe.

Shaking your head, you let him lead you down the street to the closest night market. It was a little past midnight, but it was still crowded. Bumping into patrons, Felix grabbed your hand again and led you through the crowd.

Stopping in front of a dessert cart, he guided you to stand next to him. "Well?"

"It's fine, I should go."

Felix squeezed your hand. "Come on. It's late. You're clearly shaken up. I don't think anyone should be alone like that."

He was right though it pained you to admit it. Your fun Friday night went from decent to shit in less than five minutes, and now this handsome freckled stranger was the one to try to comfort you.

"I have a thing about sweets." Felix looked up at the selection of ice cream. "Brownies and ice cream - it's like my comfort food."

"Mine, too." You finally noticed how warm his hand was.

He held up two fingers to the part-time worker before letting go of you to grab both of the treats.

"I can pay you back." You took a spoonful of vanilla. "I'm sorry. I think I ruined your night out."

Felix shook his head, clearly enjoying the frozen treat. "You didn't ruin anything. I'm just sorry your night got cut short because of... your ex, right?"

You nodded quietly. "I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"Well, I - "

"I've only known your name for ten minutes, and you've apologized to me twice already." Felix's freckles were much more visible now, and it suited him. He looked kind, and his smile was bright before softening to concern. "Did he make you feel like you had to apologize for everything?"

Poking your spoon around your ice cream, you couldn't find the words. Felix took your silence as a 'yes.'

"That doesn't seem like any way to treat your girlfriend."

"I mean, some of it might have been my fault - "

Felix interrupted your excuses with a spoonful of chocolate. "Stop."

"But I -"

"- am single now. And I am not him." He grinned again. "So just erase everything he made you feel like you needed to do, and just be in the moment with me. Okay?"

"It was just," you tried to find the words. "I don't know. I haven't done this in a really long time, and I know not everyone is like that. But I don't even really know you."

Felix placed his hand on your head, his smile still comforting and genuine. He pulled you close to him. "Well, I guess we're going to have to change that."

**

It was another Friday night, but now these nights were taken up by Felix dropping by your apartment with freshly baked brownies and a new movie.

He never passed the boundaries of holding hands and hugs. It almost made you wonder how you ended up here with this person who was nothing more than a fellow bar patron at some point.

"Can I ask you something?"

Felix was scooping ice cream onto the brownies. He offered you a spoonful, "What's up?"

The words got caught in your throat again. It's only been two months. You hadn't returned to the club since, and you were finally sleeping well again. It was almost like having Felix kept the nightmares away. Simply knowing he was there did more healing than anything else ever did.

You didn't want to ruin it.

"Never mind." You grabbed your bowl and settled in front of the TV.

Felix looked back at you. Lately, it was like you always started out tense in front of him, and he was dying to know why.

An hour into the movie, Felix finally noticed that you weren't paying attention. Your dessert was left half unfinished which was unusual. You just sat there beside him, staring at the floor.

He poked your cheek before reaching over to pause the movie. "What's on your mind?"

"It's nothing."

"y/n, come on." Felix sighed. "What is it? Are you having nightmares again? Did you see him again?"

It shouldn't feel odd, but you didn't expect him to find you so predictable. "No, I just have a lot on my mind."

"Okay, so tell me."

The silence filled the room again.

"Is this something you can't tell me?"

"That's not it, I just don't know how to tell you -"

"Try!" Felix laughed. "I haven't seen you this speechless since the night we met."

Thinking about that night brought so many mixed feelings. It was like seeing the evil witch and meeting your prince charming all at once. After your ex said those things, it was like something just held you back. It just always seemed too soon to say anything - no matter how much you liked Felix, no matter what he did you help you heal and just be happy. If this is what a relationship is supposed to be like, you didn't know how to operate. This was a book on love you'd never dared to read before.

"It's nothing." You said quietly.

Felix almost looked disappointed. He looked down at the floor, shuffling his feet together. "Should I leave?"

"What? No -"

"I just feel like I'm bothering you."

"You're not bothering me!" You grabbed his hand. There it was again, one of the two romantic gestures that wouldn't be pushed any further.

Felix held your hand gently, stroking your thumb with his. "So do you want to tell me what's on your mind?"

You leaned forward, resting your head against his arm so he couldn't see how flustered you were.

"I just don't know when the right time is."

"Meaning?" Felix had every right to be confused.

"How long is long enough to be over someone and move on?" You kept your head down. You didn't want him to see you crumble like this. You felt so weak and tired at the thought of exposing yourself like this.

You and Felix sat in silence for a moment. His grip on your hand was tighter than usual, but his demeanor was difficult to read.

"Is that what's been bothering you? You don't want me to think you've moved on too quickly?"

You nodded against his arm, still hiding your face.

He pulled you up and into his arms again, holding you securely. He smelled like vanilla and musk today. He hid his face in your neck, and you stayed like that. This was the safest you've ever felt, and being here with him finally stopped that awful feeling of not knowing what it was to want to share your mornings with someone. Felix wasn't a burden. He was the sunshine, and his warmth was your safety.

Taking a deep breath, Felix finally sat upright nodding to himself. "Okay, so let's talk."

"Talk away." You almost giggled at the flush on his cheeks.

He brushed the hair away from your face, keeping hands cupped on the sides of your neck.

"There is no time limit for being ready, okay?"

Felix's eyes stayed on yours.

"If you're over him, then you're over him. Fuck that guy, he was awful. And I know you think that with the timing - meeting me that night - it was a burden, wasn't it? Because there was no way you could ever tell if you were ready or if you'd just found a distraction." Felix smiled softly. "Do you trust me?"

You nodded quietly, eyes feeling awfully heavy.

"Well, I trust you. And I trust you know that this burden of never knowing will go away on its own, okay?"

"I just don't want to hurt you." You tried to pull away with no avail.

Felix released another heavy sigh.

He searched for something in your eyes before making his decision.

His kisses were like his hugs - warm and comforting. He was gentle, rubbing the edge of your face with his fingers. The small pitter-patters of his breath against your cheeks tickled.

Felix kissed you sweetly in silence. The moonlight had already set on the apartment, but he just stayed with you in the moment, feeling like if there was ever a time, it was now.

Leaving a final kiss on the tip of your nose, he sat back.

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."