#if you assume i have no life you are absolutely one hundred percent correct

[awesomeuchuu]

Kanata listened attentively as Sonia spoke about Byakuya Togami. He had to admit that he was surprised; it seemed like she had a lot to say, and while she spoke very clearly and articulately – from years and years of training, no doubt – he still needed a moment to process what she had said, because there were a lot of words. And there was also the fact that she was extremely smooth when it came to the way she discussed the Togami heir. She was right, of course, it absolutely wouldn’t do to speak ill of someone of that position, but didn’t she almost manage to do just that, without seemingly use any negative words or phrases? It… Was a game of sorts, Kanata realized. A game he wasn’t equipped to play, but it was fascinating none the less, and she seemed very well versed in it.

“I can… Understand some of that,” Kanata more or less whispered. He too shot a nervous glance around, but it seemed like people’s attention was focused on the penguins and not the two odd teenagers sitting a little ways away on their own. If people didn’t recognize Sonia, perhaps they would simply assume that they were a couple out on a date and wanted some private time while also enjoying the antics of the penguins. Kanata shot a glance at the little critters, a soft smile on his lips. Then, he continued:

“But I do not see how someone’s… interest could be… something that Byakuya would have a reason to judge? Are not everyone allowed things that make them happy? …As long as they do not hurt others… I think that perhaps… It is not healthy to be too… Set in one’s ways, one way or the other. I know that I have been, in the past. And I am trying to change, for the better. Not only for my own sake, but… I make no one happy if I do not… ‘transform’.” Henshin, like the Kamen Rider heroes that Chiaki admired so much.

If you were to ask Kanata though, his very own hero was Chiaki and no one else. …Or perhaps, his first hero. You were allowed to admire more than one person, you were allowed to have more than one person as your ideal to strive toward, no?

“I… Think that you know Emperor-san more than I do, yes… But I think that you are correct. He is very passionate about idols. I think… He has not had much other than idols that has brought him joy before. It is simply me guessing, but…” Kanata frowned, Eichi’s pale visage swimming in front of his eyes. “I think that he is like me in that regard. I did not have much that made me passionate… Happy… Before I encountered idols.” He laughed. “All thanks to Madara~♪”

“Coral reefs are the nursery for many fish and other creatures and their home… It is as you say, beauty and protection and di—diver—diversity? I think this is the word…” Again, language was hard. Words were hard.

As the crowd cheered, Kanata spared a moment to stand up, trying to get a better view, and he waved happily at the penguin diving into the tank, regardless of the bird noticing him or not. “Hehehe~! Good boy, good boy…”

Resuming his seat, Kanata scooted just a little closer to Sonia, smile still on his face. “I do not know those movies, but I would love to see them all! Spooky, scary~♪ Hehehe… Oh, and I was meaning to ask you…”

“I have talked about Madara a little… I would like to know if you have a best friend, Sonia? Who are they? What do you do when you are together with them?” Maybe she even had someone she was interested in? Clearly not this Byakuya. (Kanata guessed. He wasn’t one hundred percent certain, but that was one can of worms he would leave alone for now.) Asking his new friend about her love life seemed awfully intrusive though, and although Kanata was highly curious and inquisitive by nature, he had learned the hard way when enough was enough and that there were certain things you simply didn’t ask about unprompted.

When one had to remain in a state of composed expressions for so long, for so much of her life at home, Sonia had a knack of knowing when one was overcome with emotion but without a method of displaying it. She didn't know much about Kanata's upbringing, but what she could gather was that he was similar: rules, from those in charge, that dictated how he'd present himself, how the world would see him. Even now, out with a friend in a public place where patrons were far more interested in the likes of hungry penguins than two teenagers, he seemed unable to fully display the extent of what Sonia could only discern as relief. Similar, she guessed, to what she felt when she'd first made her first real friends: Class 77-B. "There is nothing wrong with sharing in life's experiences, the things in-common, or being common for that matter," She told him gently. Even if the penguins and otters were the ones who were supposed to make a scene, that didn't mean it couldn't happen between the two of them. "Besides, we are not here to read a dictionary," She grinned, referencing her choice of word that hadn't registered with him. "We are here to visit the aquatic residents. Think nothing of it."

She knew the otters weren't Kanata's favorite: for as much as he spoke of the ocean and fish, it was clear he'd rather spend his time around the giant tanks, particularly the ones built over indoor footpaths that visitors could walk through and have all manner of fish swim around them, from stingrays to sharks. But Sonia loved the playfulness of the otters and the penguins, all sequestered in their little groups, their little families, content in the company of each other and those who minded them. A true, devoted friendship, even if they were not of the same bloodline. Something that, she flinched as Kanata pressed his line of inquiry further, the person in question did not possess.

"It will not do to be on record speaking ill of anyone, particularly Byakuya Togami," She replied, straightening and allowing the otter to swim off. Just as well: it was nearly time for the penguin feeding anyway. "But he is the sort of person where the what and who he is are one and the same. I see him often, as we are often invited to the same sorts of events for work, but we...well, we disagree on some fundamental values."

Sonia sighed, lowering herself onto one of the benches situated a small distance away from the rest of the growing crowd. When discussing some of the nation's most powerful families, you never knew who could be listening in. Some things were just like home in that sense. "Togami-san places value on others by means of social status, of family name, of wealth and power, of respectable business and career, even of personal interests. He is a logical person, able to understand the why and how of many things, and such a will, I would imagine, has brought him to the position he holds today. But for the things he does not value or understand, people and pursuits he deems beneath him purely because they lack the social status or family name he respects, he is cruel towards." She scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"As if family name or wealth truly measures a person's worth," She continued dismissively. "It is their character that matters, how they treat others. How they choose to live an honest life, with compassion and love. But I do not think he agrees: it clashes with his sense of business, or sense of purpose in the world. This is why I say Eichi-san differs from him: he truly cares about the company and those who work for him and his family, in a way I do not believe Togami-san does. Not in the same sense, anyway."

Still, her friend put her in a better mood. Kanata usually did: he had a unique way of viewing the world around him. Perhaps just as eccentric as Sonia herself: it took one to know one, and he had seemingly grown up just as protected, just as sheltered, as she had. Sonia smiled, even though his story about the plankton and the whale hadn't warranted it. It was, instead, for the other. "A coral reef...they come in so many colors, and shapes, and sizes no?" She offered, "And they bring joy to people, and shelter for fish in need. Yes, I would enjoy being likened to a coral reef. It encompasses the beauty of life's differences and a place to belong. Perhaps we might see some in the other parts of the aquarium?"

Soon, other spectators took their seats on the various benches and waited for the show to begin. Sonia laughed, as the aquarium staff tossed fish in the air and in the tanks for the penguins to dive and flip for, explaining the various species of penguin in-between their tricks. "Truth be told, Kanata-san, I believe families should be made up of those who love each other. Not restricted to certain genders or roles or what have you, but I am certain my family does not agree with that assessment," Sonia told him in-between giggles, just as cheers erupted for another penguin who had dived into the tank in search of his food. "But I am permitted to have friends visit on occasion. I should very much like to invite you, and Eichi-san, and other friends if desired to visit Novoselic! I would preface this, though, considering the idol groups you are a part of...there may be a request to perform in a concert or two. A proper concert hall, nothing just for the family or some such thing. I could even show you some of my favorite horror films: Jaws isn't the only one featuring marine life. There's Open Water, or Piranha, or the classic Creature from the Black Lagoon!"

[lvtvr]

lvtvr’s writing tutorials, pt 1: battling my nemesis (or, how to punctuate dialogue)

Sup, fellow kids. I’m Charlie. I write.

I’ve also translated and proofread four full-length novels, so I now suffer from the work-related condition of never being able to turn my editing glasses off. This can make reading fanfic a bitch for me. Because, let’s be real: unbeta’d amateur work easily lets a lot of mistakes slip through.

It is, however, possible to minimize those mistakes.

Is the world going to end if there are errors in your fanfic? Of course not. If you want to focus on the content of your writing more than adhering to rules of language, by all means, do that. There’s time to learn this stuff later.

But you know what? Formatting matters. If you truly want to get better at writing, then eventually you are going to have to deal with this aspect of it. And yes, it’s hard work -- but I hope to help you along the way.

 THE POINT OF THIS ESSAY: PUNCTUATING DIALOGUE

This seems to be the #1 formatting problem that amateur writers struggle with. However, there are boatloads of experienced fanfic writers who still seem to struggle with it, or are just so used to making mistakes that they’ve made it “their style.” And at the risk of sounding like a total bitch, it doesn’t matter how amazing or well-loved their work is otherwise: wrong is still wrong. Just because someone is consistent about always writing “your” instead of “you’re” doesn’t make it correct, and dialogue is no different.

If these kinds of persistent mistakes don’t bother you, then good for you. Your life is probably a lot more fun than mine.

But if you want to learn to do it right – if you want the great look and perfect flow that immaculate punctuation will bring your writing – then you have to rise above this.

Time for some rules.

 COMMA VS. PERIOD – THE ULTIMATE SHOWDOWN

Let’s start with something simple.

“Hey,” he said.

This is a good sentence. This sentence is an upstanding member of our society. You can’t go wrong with this sentence. Got me? Okay.

Now let’s have a look at another one.

“Hello.” She said.

This sentence is a delinquent. In fact, it’s not even a sentence – it’s two sentences. And it is always, always, always wrong. Rule of thumb: never do this. Ever.

This isn’t just some elitist, snooty gatekeeping crap, either. There’s a purely functional reason why it’s incorrect.

By putting a period after your dialogue, you are cutting it off from whatever comes next. Whatever follows dialogue that ends with a period has to be an independent sentence. This distinction is used to regulate the rhythm and flow of the writing.

Now, “said” is a transitive verb, meaning it needs to take an object. While you can sigh, yawn, or laugh independently of anything else, “saying” isn’t possible unless you are saying SOMETHING. (I.e., “She laughed” is a complete sentence on its own; “He said” isn’t.) Same goes for synonyms of “say,” such as whisper, repeat, and exclaim. They almost always get lonely without some dialogue attached to them with a comma.

Let’s look at some examples.

“I’m fine.” He said. “I’m fine,” he said.

The first example IS NEVER CORRECT. NOT EVER. It should ALWAYS be the latter. ALWAYS.

However:

“I’m fine,” he laughed. “I’m fine.” He laughed.

These examples are BOTH CORRECT, but convey different nuances. In the first example, he laughs the words. In the second, he says the words first, and laughs afterward. These are separate things, not two different ways to express the same idea. No matter how much fic you’ve read where they’re treated as synonymous, they are not. They are not. They are not.

 GETTING FUNKY WITH “?” AND “!”

When a sentence in dialogue ends with a question mark or exclamation point, you always keep that punctuation – you never replace it with a comma. This is where we use the above rule to make sure things don’t get ambiguous.

“What’s up?” they yawned. “What’s up?” They yawned.

Again, these examples are BOTH CORRECT. In the first, they are yawning the words. In the second, they yawn after speaking. By capitalizing “they,” you are indicating that the question mark is behaving like a period. You are thereby orphaning the sentence that follows the dialogue. In this case, since the sentence can stand alone, that’s perfectly fine.

Next example:

“I’m okay!” the boy repeated. “I’m okay!” The boy repeated.

Here, the first example is CORRECT. The second is ALWAYS WRONG. Remember, capitalizing “the” means you are drawing a line between the dialogue and the following sentence. “Repeated” needs an object, but now, because the exclamation point is behaving like a period, “The boy repeated” stands alone. That’s an ungrammatical sentence, and without the implied attachment to the preceding dialogue, it drifts alone in the void.

And, well, that’s not good.

 BONUS LEVEL

Special section to address this other weird shit I’ve seen:

“I’m fine.” He murmured, pouring himself another cup of coffee, “I promise.”

This is a big WTF that has basically just reversed the correct order of things. It should be:

“I’m fine,” he murmured, pouring himself another cup of coffee. “I promise.”

Another example:

“That’s pretty cool.” The doctor laughed, turning to her girlfriend, “You should try it.”

We have two options to fix this, depending on if we want her to laugh the words or not.

“That’s pretty cool,” the doctor laughed, turning to her girlfriend. “You should try it.” (laughing as she speaks)

“That’s pretty cool.” The doctor laughed, turning to her girlfriend. “You should try it.” (laughing after speaking)

Sometimes, especially when you start working with more complex sentences, things can get confusing, and your options can increase. Feel free to shoot me a message if you’re not sure. However, the rules above are the basic ones to keep in mind.

Okay, you made it to the end! If it feels like a lot, that’s because it is. Yes, it’s plenty to remember, because writing is hard. Try to think about these rules when you’re reading published books (not fanfic, you can’t trust fanfic), and eventually you’ll get the hang of it.

Believe in the me that believes in you.

Good luck!

[conditionaljewel]

Thinking about how utterly terrifying it must has been (and it must currently be) for Laudna to realize that Delilah can overtake her body and puppeteer her like that. During the rock incident Laudna lost all of her autonomy and perhaps realized for the first time that that voice in her head is *way* stronger and has *way* more power over her than she gave credit for. Laudna could lose herself at any point and she would be none the wiser. Terrifying.

(This is quite possibly the jumping-off point I needed to wax poetic about my beloved Laudna for a minute, so thank you anon for providing me the opportunity.) Response under the cut, due to length, potential spoilers, etc.

It has to be absolutely terrifying to Laudna, downright anxiety inducing, to know that this bitch is capable of so much more than she ever possibly let on. This woman has defied death, she exists at a time when it's thought that she died long ago, yet here she remains. Laudna knew that this woman was a monster, that she could talk to her in her head and she was the source of her unlife and some of her powers now, but to know now she can just assume full control of her at the drop of a hat? That's a nightmare. How Laudna has gone on for so long with this horrible woman stuck in her head is nothing short of a heroic effort... but, after having seen that happen, having seen Laudna become a puppet for her, having no control over her body and Delilah assuming full autonomy like that, I feel like there's been something that we've been missing when it comes to Laudna's story and it's been right in front of us for a while.

Laudna has fascinated me from the moment she and Imogen first appeared on screen. I felt an immediate connection to her personally that I still can't explain to this day and I wanted to learn absolutely everything that I could about her, and Imogen as well. Her whole existence and the general idea of an undead woman seemingly having a spirit and life was wild, so I was very excited to see what the future would hold, especially after those first few reveals.

So knowing what we do, seeing now just what Delilah is capable of with Laudna, and with Laudna seeming realizing that herself, she's bound to feel more determined to find a way to free herself of the madness of Delilah. Not just for her own sake, but for the sake of her friendships (and potentially Whitestone?) However, the thing I keep going back to that makes me thing we've missed something? Pate.

When we first met Pate, he (yes I'm treating Pate like they're their own person here) said that Laudna made him because she needed someone to keep her company when it was just her and "the voice in her head." Since then, it's been the two of them together, and Imogen has been with Laudna for about two years as mentioned in an earlier episode when she said that she still hadn't gotten used to "it" [Laudna's ventriloquism and Pate] after all this time.

But how long was it just the two of them, Laudna and Pate? Who's to say* (see bottom) that Laudna didn't create Pate in response to her being puppeted by Delilah prior? Maybe that's part of the reason why they were always bopping from town to town, besides the whole "she's a witch in a cabin in the woods" vibe, but because she was on the run from villagers after her body was taken over by Delilah and some event occurred that cause her to flee once more? I'm just grasping at straws at this point, there's zero indication to any of this, but we have zero backstory beyond her time in Whitestone, what happened to her, her pseudo resurrection, and her time now; we don't know much else about what she did in the interim, her actual pact with Delilah, much else about their relationship, or her time on the run, that it just begs a lot of questions, some sillier than others admittedly.

Delilah has a lot of power, a lot of influence, and a lot of control over Laudna, more than she certainly expected and gave her credit for, you are one hundred percent correct on that anon. Laudna definitely underestimated her, or Delilah is far more powerful than she's simply let on, hell both can be true. What's clear however is Laudna, while she works on her relationship with Imogen, needs to also work on her relationship with Delilah and what this all means for her, because while I think the fracture between Imogen and Laudna can be healed, I'm afraid for what the connection between Delilah and Laudna will continue to do for both of them. I have my thoughts on this that are far deeper and more varied but those are for another post.

(*Just to meta a little in reference to all this: we know from 4 Sided Dive that Marisha had the artist add "something dead" to Laudna's character design, and then once she saw it was a rat named him Pate de Rolo just to fuck with Taliesin; however, she decided to actually puppet him in the moment, just to test it out as a schtick and see how it went with the table, and it worked so she's stuck with it. So all this could be pure coincidence, that Matt had this plot hook and thread planned out all along and it's coming to fruition now, but it could also be Matt taking this idea of Laudna puppeting Pate after she first did it, and making it out to be so that Delilah is puppeting her [as if the image didn't occur to others already anyway in the fan art] and have more story reveal down the road about it.)

[fruitcoops]

eve you have been killing the content game lately!!! I have a suggestion for the team to do the cut video where someone guesses their starsigns!!

This was a really interesting fic to write, since I know next to nothing about astrology! It’s also the longest I’ve spent researching for a fic--I will apologize in advance for any errors I made. All the birthdays/ signs came from Haz’s page (@lumosinlove) and SW credit belongs to her! Hope you enjoy <3

Marlene was practically bouncing as the video began. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, everyone! I’m Marlene McKinnon, and I can’t tell you how excited I am for today’s video. Would you like to introduce yourself, Elaine?”

An older woman with her graying hair piled in a bun waved to the camera. “Hello! My name is Elaine, and I’ve been studying astrology for about forty years now.”

“We’re so glad to have to here! Today’s video is going to be a guessing game with some of our Lions players, where you ask them a few questions and then match their zodiac signs.” Marlene handed her a small pile of cardboard signs with strings tied to the tops.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.” Elaine adjusted her reading glasses and flipped through the zodiac cards. “I’ve never done anything like this officially, though it’s a bit of a hobby when I people-watch. Ms. McKinnon, would I be correct in assuming you’re a Leo?”

Marlene’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Uh, yeah, actually.”

Elaine nodded. “I thought so. Alright, where do I start?”

Marlene waved off-screen and seven young men walked in, lining up in a semi-circle behind them. “Take it away, Elaine.”

As Marlene disappeared behind the camera again, Elaine scanned the group. “This is very interesting,” she muttered. “You all play on the same team, yes?”

“We do,” James said.

Elaine’s lips twitched into a smile and she beckoned him forward. “Are you the team captain, then?”

“No,” he laughed. “Assistant captain, though. I’m James.”

“Nice to meet you, James. Were you popular in high school?”

James paused for a moment. “Yeah, I think so. I’ve always been pretty friendly and hockey helped with that.”

“You’re confident, and you don’t like sitting still.” She tapped her chin and gave him a once-over. “Can I take a look at your ears?”

“My ears?” James blinked at her, clearly surprised, but obliged and leaned down to her level.

Elaine made a noncommittal noise. “Ears say a lot about a person. Capricorns often have more vertical ears, but yours are quite round. You strike me as an Aries.”

James hung the sign over his neck and headed back to the line with a smile. “She just called you annoying,” Finn teased, giving him a nudge.

“Oh, no, Aries’ can be lovely people once they mature.” Elaine tilted her head and motioned to Finn. “Could you step up to the plate, dear?”

“Sure thing.” Finn kept his hands in his pockets, but straightened up a bit and rocked on his toes as he took James’ place. “My name’s Finn.”

“You’re certainly a fire sign,” Elaine laughed. “But you’re not quite an Aries. Are you a generally upfront person?”

“Pretty much.”

“What did you want to be as a kid?”

Finn smiled. “Anything where I could be around people.”

She nodded. “I thought so. Are you in a relationship?”

“Yeah, with those two.” Leo and Logan waved and Elaine’s smile widened.

“You’re a Leo, and a lucky one at that.” She carefully slid the sign over his head and patted his shoulder. “Good for you. Could the young man in the black jacket come up next?”

“I’m Sirius, it’s nice to meet you.” He shook her hand before taking a step back.

“Nice to meet you, too. You’re the captain, right?”

He glanced at the camera, surprised. “Uh, yes.”

“Well, you certainly could be another fire sign, but there’s something different…” She trailed off and drummed her fingers on the stack of zodiac cards. “Are you friends with our lovely Aries over there?”

“I’m the godfather to his son.”

Elaine held her hand over her heart. “Oh, that’s so sweet. You’re not another Aries or Leo, then. How much do you value your privacy?”

Sirius snorted. “A lot.”

“Are you in a relationship?”

He held his left hand up with a slight smile and inclined his head toward Remus. “Engaged for about six months.”

“Point him out for me, please.” Elaine kept her eyes on Sirius as he pointed toward Remus, then turned to the camera crew. “Did you all see that?”

Sirius frowned slightly. “See what?”

“You’ve been so tense and focused, but your whole face opened up when you looked toward him. I’m going to guess you’re a Scorpio.” She surveyed the group as Sirius returned to his place, then beckoned to Leo. “You have the prettiest eyes!”

“Oh, thank you.” He blushed slightly. “I’m Leo.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Leo. Do you believe in astrology?”

He shook his head. “Not really. I think it’s neat, though. Stars are cool.”

“Good. You’re young, and I’m glad you’re not letting it dictate your life.” She scrutinized his face for a moment. “Turn sideways, please. There are certain face shapes that are more common than others for specific signs…if we had an argument, would you apologize to me?”

Leo smiled slightly. “Depends on what it was about. I’m not very confrontational in the first place.”

“So you like keeping things equal?”

“I do, yeah. As you can probably tell, I’m not big on making hard decisions,” he laughed.

She smiled and shuffled through the cards. “I think you’re a Libra, but this was the hardest one yet. Which one is your boyfriend again? Not the Leo.” Her face brightened. “Ha! Leo with a Leo!”

Finn’s face split into a wide grin and Leo groaned. “Oh, god, he’s never going to let that go.”

Logan was still laughing a bit when he walked over. “Bonjour, I’m Logan.”

“Oh, this makes lots of sense.” Elaine looked between the three of them and nodded. “Are you a hothead?”

“Usually.”

“What sets you off?”

Logan exhaled slowly as he thought. “Most fights on the ice come from people pushing me or my friends around. I’m not one of those weird angry guys, though. There’s always a reason.”

“I bet there is.” Elaine laughed a little. “What are your thoughts on liars?”

He made a face. “Nothing good ever comes from lying.”

Elaine hung the ‘Sagittarius’ sign over his head. “If you’re not a Sagittarius, I need to find a new career. Could the Scorpio’s fiancé come up here?”

In his thick sweater and blue jeans, Remus was the polar opposite of Sirius. “My name’s Remus.”

“You are a sweetheart,” Elaine said with a laugh. “Oh my goodness, no wonder he got all mushy! Have you always played hockey?”

“I was supposed to be drafted out of college, but I got injured and became a physical therapist for six years instead. That’s how I met the rest of the guys.”

“Interesting.” She bit her lip. “Why did you choose physical therapy?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to stay close to hockey and help people. It was tough, but it made me happy.”

“Would you say people underestimate you on the ice?”

Remus hummed in thought. “I don’t know. I’m not a big guy, but I’m fast.”

“Well, all your friends are nodding behind you.”

“What?” He turned and they all hid their smiles in their hands. “Guys!”

“They do!” James defended. “Literally everyone we play against underestimates you!”

“Let’s say we get in an argument. Would you apologize to me?” Elaine asked.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “That depends. Was I right?”

“Yeah, you’re a Pisces.” She handed him the card, smiling. “Congratulations on the engagement. We only have one left, correct?”

Kasey shook her hand as he walked up. “I’m Kasey.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Kasey. Do you believe in the zodiac?”

“Nope,” he said. “But my girlfriend does, and she has cool necklaces and stuff.”

“You don’t strike me as a hothead.”

He shrugged. “I’m a goalie. It doesn’t usually come with the job description, but I’d take the gloves off for my friends.”

She flipped through a few of the cards. “You care deeply for them, then?”

“Absolutely. They’re basically my family by this point.”

Elaine hesitated. “This is a tough one. I’m going to go with Taurus, but I’m not one hundred percent sure. Are you patient?”

“With some people, sure. It varies.” Behind him, the others were stifling their laughter. Elaine gave them a look, but hung the Taurus card over his head.

“Alright, that’s everyone,” Marlene said as Kasey rejoined the group. “Raise your hand if she guessed you correctly.”

Five hands went up; only Leo and Kasey stayed still. Elaine clapped her hands happily. “Oh, I didn’t do too badly!”

Marlene ushered them into a line. “So, Elaine, how did you know James was an Aries?”

“He’s just…” She waved a hand in her air. “He’s very confident, though I feel like he’s matured over the past few years. Something big happened in your life that settled you down, right?”

“My son was born just over a year ago,” he said. “That definitely toned me down.”

“Thank god for that.” Finn muttered, giving him a playful nudge. James smacked the back of his head with a grin as he walked to the end of the line.

“It’s a good thing you’ve got your boyfriends,” Elaine said. “Leo’s often struggle with their identity when they’re younger, so it’s wonderful to see you’ve figured things out a bit.”

Finn blinked, dumbstruck. “Am I that much of an open book?”

“Yes,” the other six chorused. He paused for a moment, nodded, and made room for Sirius to step forward.

“Ah, I knew it!” She beamed at him. “Scorpio and Pisces are very compatible.”

“So we’ve been told,” Sirius laughed.

“You’re the hopeless romantic, aren’t you? Making up for lost time?” At his shocked expression, she her smile became gentle. “That’s usually how it goes. Don’t be afraid to be soft, okay?”

“Okay.” He hesitated a moment longer before joining Finn and James at the end of the line; James touched his elbow in solidarity while Leo walked forward.

“Oh, an Aquarius!” Elaine’s eyebrows rose. “I should’ve guessed. Well, that’s a good thing. You’ll be a good counterbalance for the reactive parts of Leos and Sags.”

“Thanks.” He looked faintly amused. “Can I blame Finn’s puns on his zodiac sign?”

She laughed. “Yes, absolutely.”

“It’s good to know there’s a reason for it,” Logan said as he took Leo’s place. “You guessed me pretty fast.”

“You were bluntly honest.” She shrugged. “Sags can be difficult to narrow down, but you fit right in for all the good parts.”

Elaine smiled when Remus stepped up. “You seemed really certain about me,” he said.

“You’re the most Pisces to ever Pisces, dear.”

“Really?”

She nodded. “You’re kind, but I don’t think you take any shit either.” At the back of the line, Sirius barked a laugh. “Oh, and he agrees!”

“He better!” Remus grinned back at him.

Elaine gasped when Kasey held up his new sign. “Really?”

He shrugged. “My girlfriend is a Taurus and some of that might have rubbed off on me.”

“Does she have a big personality?”

“Definitely.”

“Wow.” She gave him a quick once over. “There were some parts of Sagittarius that came through, but you were a tough one.”

“It’s the goalie face,” James called from the back of the line.

“Sorry,” Kasey said. “It’s a habit.”

“No, no, that’s alright.” She stared at him for a second longer before shaking her head. “You’re much softer than most of the Sags I’ve met. It’s hard to believe you and the Energizer Bunny back there share the same sign.”

“Did you have fun, Elaine?” Marlene asked as she collected the zodiac cards.

“I had a wonderful time, thank you so much for inviting me!”

Marlene smiled at the camera . “Thanks for watching, everyone. Be sure to like and subscribe for more Lion Pride content!”

[welllpthisishappening]

First-Line Defensive Pairing

Of all the things they’d done in the last few months, spending the afternoon at the Museum of Ice Cream was one of the more ridiculous. Mostly because of the wooden spoons they gave out on the tour. Partially because it seemed Will Scarlet could not stop casting furtive glances at Belle French. Or the heels that always matched her dresses. Maybe because she kept answering his hypothetical questions. And maybe even because he was willing to drift far closer to genuine these days. At least when it came to his feelings for her.

————

Word Count: 3.7K AN: Take two! Ok, so apparently yesterday when I posted this Tumblr thought it’d be a really cool idea to just...reformat the entire story. With whole graphs in totally wrong spots. Anyway, here it is again. Just as ridiculous as yesterday. With just as many Will and Belle emotions. Because that’s a thing I’m doing now, apparently. Writing Blue Line-era Will and Belle. If you’d like more of these flirt-prone idiots, here is their first date and Belle getting annoyed that Will fought someone on the ice. Technically, this was part of the kiss prompts and was “height difference kisses.” I hope the five of you who are interested in this enjoy it. That includes @shireness-says​ and @eleveneitherway​ who are mostly to blame for this.

————

“I’m going to ask you a hypothetical question.”

Belle lifted her eyebrows. Let some of that light creep back in her gaze, a flash of amusement that regularly made Will’s stomach leap dangerously close to the base of his ribs. That’s why he did it. Maybe not the rib thing, partially because he wasn’t even sure that was the correct technical term. The rest of it, though. The eye thing. Sure. Definitely. One-hundred percent. Why he’d also made sure the little wooden spoon they’d been given at the start of this tour was still in the corner of his mouth; to guarantee absolute absurdity, and he figured that started when they decided to spend their afternoon at the Museum of Ice Cream, but he was willing to take it all a step further. 

In the absurdity factor, at least. 

Other things were—

Well, it wasn’t as if they explicitly decided to keep the relationship a secret. Not on purpose. Not really. Or come to any sort of legitimate agreement regarding the use of the word relationship. It never seemed...important, honestly. And that was a potentially problematic and lackadaisical approach to someone who made Will smile with an almost alarming consistency in the last few months, but she’d also sort of snuck up on him, and Ariel was going to be so annoying. 

About the whole goddamn thing. 

She’d never shut up about it, he knew. 

So he didn’t push. Belle didn’t, either. An unspoken agreement, that’s what it was. He had other things to do, anyway. Like get ready for a playoff run and ignore the lingering ache in his calves after the echo of Arthur’s whistle stopped ringing in his ears, and, ok, his apartment was starting to feel a little bit larger than it had in a long time, maybe since Killian had moved out, but that was fine. Cup runs did not come because someone was in a relationship. Will had seen that first hand. With Cap, of all people. 

Watched the way his whole life had fallen apart around his ankles, little shards of hope and possibility that, Will knew, still threatened the structural integrity of Kilian’s internal organs and all four ventricles of his heart, and he did not understand enough basic biology to be making those sorts of sweeping observations, but Robin had lost someone too and that had been horrible and tragic and—

If Will simply did not want to jinx things, then that was neither here nor there.

Relationship’y speaking. 

It was good. They were good. He hated the wooden spoon they gave them to taste test half a dozen ice cream flavors. 

He was legitimately worried about getting splinters in his tongue. 

No excuses could possibly reason away that problem pre-game. 

Belle’s eyebrows were still in the same spot. “You going to follow up on that, or…” “Would you burn a Gutenberg Bible? To stave off the apocalypse and or potential frostbite?” “Those two things go together, do they?” He shrugged. “In this instance, yeah, because—” “—Well, it wouldn’t matter,” Belle said, eyes flitting towards the overly enthusiastic tour guide and the seemingly never-ending history of ice cream, “because I wouldn’t allow myself to be in that position. And I don’t live anywhere near the Public Library. What would I be doing there when the freeze-wave came?” His stomach. Did that thing. Jumped and twisted, got a ten from the Russian judge on its floor routine. He was cautiously optimistic he’d be able to pull off a flawless beam performance too. It was an exceedingly convoluted metaphor. Wrong Olympics, too. 

“Does salt air give you mind-reading powers?” “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are,” Belle grinned. Moving her hand faster than he was entirely prepared for ensured that he nearly dropped his small plastic cup of churro churro ice cream. He made noise. Without trying. A hiss and a grunt in the back of his throat that then led to a sound escaping between Belle’s half-hearted scowl, and that sound was closer to a giggle than either of them would ever admit and just enough to mess with his mental faculties a little and the tour guide stopped talking. To stare straight at them. 

Color lifted on Belle’s cheeks, ice cream-covered spoon held awkwardly between them. 

“As you were, ma’am,” Will said, all false bravado, and that was something of a trend. In several different capacities. It was far too depressing a thought to have while eating cinnamon-flavored ice cream. 

Belle elbowed him. 

And the tour guide got back to her to spiel. Without a reprimand. 

“Say freeze-wave again without laughing.”

Her eyelashes were more of a problem, honestly. Than the eyebrows. Or the specific jut of her chin Will had rather quickly learned meant she was ready to challenge him on some ridiculous topic, fully prepared to argue a position she might not have otherwise agreed with. Only because it wasn’t what he was arguing, and it was easy to understand why she won that Model UN award. 

Plus, her eyelashes were just stupid long, and he thought she was really pretty. 

Like in a fundamental sort of way. 

“Freeze-wave,” Belle enunciated, pausing between syllables for maximum effect, “are you asking me Day After Tomorrow questions because of the ice cream, because I’m a librarian or because you’re the strangest man alive?” She finally ate the rest of the ice cream. It was starting to melt, that was why. This was very melt-prone ice cream. “Oh, shit,” she mumbled, “this is really good. Better than mine.” Something popped in his shoulder when he reached towards her plastic cup. He wouldn’t tell Ariel about that, either. 

“Which kind is—” Fighting off the objections of a small librarian who resolutely refused to wear anything except heels, no matter what the weather was like, was not usually as difficult as it was in that moment. Will assumed it had something to do with sugar. Or the force of his smile. Robbing the rest of him of energy and the ability to fend off either one of Belle’s fists. “Why are you like this?” “You didn’t want to try peanut and pretzel. With peanut butter swirl.” “Swallowed the flyer for this place while I wasn’t looking, huh?” Sticking her tongue out was distracting. Almost enough that he didn’t notice the absolutely atrocious attempt at impersonating his voice. “Oh, no, no, babe, I don’t want that; you can get peanut butter anywhere. That’s not special.” “Well, it’s not.” “I’m a big fancy hockey player, and I know everything there is to know about ice cream flavors and the potential life-changing palette moment that comes from the sublime combination of salty and sweet.” “Oh, now you’re just taunting me.” Her eyes narrowed, that time. His smile was going to permanently stretch out his cheeks. “You have a disgusting mind.” “You can’t get churro ice cream everywhere, babe.” “I’m going back to get honey later.” Will hummed. Stuck his lower lip out. Noticed that flash return. And hoarded it. Like a relationship—

Ah, fuck. 

“Would you burn the Gutenberg Bible?” Her laugh was quickly becoming his favorite sound. Which wasn’t bad, per se. Was just kind of passably concerning. God damn. It was the heels. All of them kept matching the dresses she wore. She kept wearing dresses. 

Of course, that was going to mess with Will’s head. 

Belle shook her head. “No.” “Historical significance?” “Well, once again, I would not be in that position, would have listened to science and fled to warmer climates, so as not to make myself prey for escaped...what were they? Tigers?” “I honestly can’t remember,” Will admitted. 

“This was your hypothetical!”

Heads snapped their direction. Frustration creased the tour guide’s forehead, and they’d paid extra to learn about the history of ice cream. Will had already known about the origins of the ice cream cone, though. So, the whole thing felt almost like a raw deal, and he was far more interested in preserving the color in Belle’s cheeks. He saluted. Who he was saluting was anyone’s guess, but it very likely was the otherwise unengaged teenage kid trudging behind his family who absolutely recognized Will. 

“That’s going to end up on sixteen different social media sites,” Belle warned, not quite able to get her voice to an appropriate whispering level. 

“So long as he got my good side, you won’t hear me complaining.” “Do you have a good side?”

“Sweetheart, the self-confidence. God.” She squeezed her eyes shut. While practically beaming at him, and Will had to bend his knees to reach, something else creaking in the process, but that was fine, and good, and pretty goddamn fantastic because her lips tasted a bit like chocolate. 

“‘S’not your best work,” Belle mumbled, almost entirely into his mouth. 

“Brain freeze.” “I would burn no books. That’s my final hypothetical answer.” Her eyelashes must have existed purely to torment him. Leaning back made it clear when they fluttered back open, and he swore there were flecks of gold in her eyes. Maybe he was melting, too. With the ice cream. That was almost poetic. “None at all? What if you were going to die?” “Maudlin.” “I don’t know what that means.” “Liar,” she challenged, another smile tugging at her mouth, and Will was clearly staring at her mouth. Stained slightly with chocolate, as it was. “I stand by it, though. The book stuff, not the commentary on your burgeoning intelligence.” “You want to find a corner to go and make out in?” Different laugh. The kind that came with her head thrown back, hair tickling Will’s forearm because at some point his arm had found its way around her, and touching Belle was becoming something almost close to second nature. “I could keep complimenting you if you want,” Belle said, “or I could give you my reason for not burning books.” “You’re a giant nerd, that’s why.” She clicked her tongue. “Very, very cute nerd, though.” “Betcha say that to all the girls.”

His stomach stilled. Dropped a few inches, for good measure. Below where it was supposed to be, and inching dangerously close to his feet, and what Will could not imagine was a very sanitary floor. The Museum of Ice Cream had a giant sprinkle pit. Nothing about that seemed very sanitary. 

“I think stories have a purpose,” Belle said, still not quite whispering but definitely getting there, and he knew. Knew she knew. What he was thinking and feeling and unspoken understanding was quickly becoming the name of this particular game. With them. 

Where it wasn’t a game at all. 

Damn. 

Ariel was going to be so annoying. 

“No matter what they are. Shitty as they can be, all those ups and downs, and ridiculous, often unnecessary melodrama. It’s going to matter to somebody. Someone, somewhere, will be living their life and read those words or see those letters, and they’ll think, wow, whoever wrote this, gets me, and it will change everything for them. They’ll go back to it. Find solace and safety in it. Themselves, maybe. They’ll believe everything will be ok. Even if they only think that while they’re reading.” “Don’t forget audiobooks,” Will muttered, voice strangled and tinged with emotion. In the ice cream museum. Figured, honestly. 

Belle pinched the side of his wrist. 

“Ow. Avoid the bruise further up, please.” “Did you get hit?” Nodding took more energy than it should have, too. She hadn’t been to a game. He hadn’t asked her. What an idiot. “Not bad though, that’s just—” “—Par for the course.” “Mixing idioms, mon trésor.” “Oh, I got that one, actually.” “Slow pitch softball, that’s why,” Will reasoned, some of the tension he wasn’t especially pleased by loosening. 

“I think we’re on a roll now.” He hummed. Nodded, again. Curled his fingers into the back of Belle’s dress. Blue, that afternoon. With matching heels. “It all matters,” she added, soft and earnest, and his eyes snapped. To her and with her and that second one didn’t make sense, not really, but he was and wanted to be and that absolutely terrified him. 

Of it all falling apart again. Of it not being enough. 

He wasn’t enough. 

A story no one was ever all that interested in finishing. 

“You think?” Belle nodded. “Why’d you start playing hockey?” “Quite a transition.” “Tit for tat, or—no, no, c’mon don’t look at me like that.” Red stained her cheeks, now. Making it difficult to concentrate on anything else, although the desire to kiss her again was a fairly strong second, and that kid was taking more pictures. “That’s not fair.” “You’ve brought this on yourself, babe,” Will argued, and he hoped Lucas didn’t yell. At him. He’d never really listened to the social media rules. “It’s a very long, occasionally depressing story about a kid and his single mom, the second of whom often worked her ass off and her fingers to the bone, and all those other delightfully visual clichés. But then! Who would guess, she got a job picking up extra shifts cleaning at the rink in town. Home to the world’s shittiest ice and loudest Zamboni, it instantly drew the attention of our kid-like hero. 

“He was...infatuated, let’s say. With the sounds, especially. Nothing sounds like that first scrape of skates on fresh ice. Full of possibility, you know?” Belle didn’t answer. Will kept talking. “Best noise in the world. And then he learned there were other noises. Pucks hitting the back of nets. Sticks clanging together. Grunts and groans and the game itself, how loud it was. Helped silence some of his thoughts, none of which were ever very good. Lots of worries, some about his very dead sister, then a few more about that mother and her predilection toward clichés.”

“Good word,” Belle murmured. He kissed the top of her hair. The kid was openly staring at them, now. 

“Anyway, the crux of the story is that the guy who owned the rink agreed to let the kid play on the rink. Knew the mother, understood her situation, and hockey is expensive. Like, well, we spout all that bullshit about hockey is for everyone, and I’ve got to stand up there and smile and nod and agree, and it’s fucked up because it’s not really true. Hockey’s for rich kids and families with regularly functioning alternators in their car.” 

He shook his head. Had to. To chase away the memories and the cobwebs, and Cap knew this, too. Understood it, even. Remembered a life before the Vanklads, and not every kid got the Vankalds, and sometimes Will let himself wonder what would have happened if he’d found the Vanklads. Or their upstate New York equivalent. 

Gotten better shin pads, probably. 

“Hockey’s an exclusive sorta club,” Will continued, “gotta know someone who’s related to someone else, and they know someone who played, and it’s six degrees of increasingly desperate separation. By some lucky twist of fate, though, Jimmy Newell knew some bastard who knew somebody else, who saw me play, and you don’t say no to USA Developmental. Spent two years in Minnesota, way before Cap did, so he doesn’t get to claim that state as his own.” Belle’s lips twitched. “Good to know, for argument’s sake.” His stomach was becoming a problem. 

Heart, too. 

Sputtering and slamming, uneven beats that were going to leave another bruise. Will licked his lips. 

“I went to Developmental, declared for the draft, got picked by New York, went to college, stayed in college, and the rest is history. As they say.” “They do say that, yeah.” “What’s the next question, then?” “How do you know there’s another question?” “Shot in the dark,” Will shrugged, but that was a lie, and it was getting increasingly easier to read that pinch between her eyebrows. “So, hit me.” “Literally?” “Please do not literally hit me. Locksley’s been feeling the forecheck the last couple’a practices.” “I know what that means!” Someone shushed them. Will couldn’t imagine the color will ever leave Belle’s cheeks. 

He kissed the bridge of her nose. 

“Who’d you get to teach you French?” “Who said I didn’t just learn French on my own?” “Babe,” she chided, and, well, that was the tipping point. As they say. To his heart and his stomach and—

“You wanna come to a game this series?” Belle blinked. Once, twice. Leaned back. Tilted her head. Likely waited for the camera crew that was inevitably lurking in the corner he was cautiously optimistic they’d make out in eventually. Didn’t happen, though. There was no camera crew. 

Just Will Scarlet, professional hockey player, and part-time sap. Standing in one of the more nonsensical museums they’d been to in the last two months. Although they did go to the transit museum on three separate occasions, and he could honestly say he didn’t expect that. 

So, maybe this was all just—

Par for the course. 

He’d have to make some sort of deal with Eric. To make sure Ariel didn’t proclaim her relationship-plotting victories from a variety of rooftops. Someone in front office had to know someone else with Empire State Building connections. 

Zelena probably did. 

Ariel would use that. 

“Where would I sit?”

He pulled her. Up. With an almost violent amount of force, threatening the safety of both of Belle’s shoulders in the process. But she’d asked the one question he hadn’t totally considered in his half-plotted plan, and getting his mouth back on hers was an acceptable diversion. Plus, she looped her arms around his neck pretty quickly. 

Which had to count for something, he figured. 

One hand cupped the back of his head, pulling him closer. Like he had any intention of being anywhere else, swiping his tongue against Belle’s lip and swallowing her sigh. They were still in public, technically. Her feet trailed the multi-color carpet beneath them, Will’s arms tightening and his palm flat against her back and her spine, and if she kept rocking up like that, he was going to do something drastic. 

Something in the same realm as melting, probably. 

Strands of hair tickled his skin, making him tilt his head and alter the angle, and that was entirely appropriate, but getting kicked out of the Museum of Ice Cream would probably make an absolutely fantastic story. Once they told people they were—

Doing whatever it was they were doing. 

They’d get there eventually. 

“Cap’s sister-in-law is coming,” Will said, not entirely able to catch his breath, “wants to see Kris and—” “—Should I know who that is?” “Works in equipment, and that’s not really the point.” “What is?” “That Little Vankald isn’t super interested in listening to Cap be full older brother on her and, far as I know, is fully capable of getting tickets wherever she wants. Can sweet talk the gold out of anyone’s pockets, and—” “—Wait, wait, are you equating hockey tickets to gold?” “When I’m playing, ma choupette.” “Is that cabbage?” He hummed. Nearly tripped over his own feet trying to hold onto Belle and the mostly melted cup of ice cream and paying for more churro ice cream made perfect sense. At the moment. “One of the kids at school was French Canadian,” Will explained, “used to swear all the time on the ice, and then he’d use stuff like that.” “You’re sharing endearments with a trash talker.” “More or less, yeah. Used to infuriate other guys.” “Who wants to be called a cabbage?” “I think you’re super cute.” Belle scowled. Didn’t argue, though. And Will refused to linger on the beat of his pulse. “I’d really like it if you were there,” he added, “Little Vanklad’ll be cool about it. She owes me. I fed her for a very long time.” “Did you just?” “I make incredible garlic bread; ask anyone.” “Wow,” Belle drawled, “just like people on the street, or…also, do you call her Little Vanklad all the time?” “To her face and behind her back with startling regularity. Not everyone gets my French endearments, babe. Consider yourself lucky.” 

She scrunched her nose. 

Stayed silent. All Will could hear was the soft explanations of the tour guide, and the questions from tourists who probably also thought going to the Museum of Sex made them edgy. After they bought a STRAND tote bag. God, maybe he was a dick. A judgmental dick, who still had too many thoughts and used an occasionally violent game to silence them by making sure he was the one dictating the noises and the trash talk and—

“Hey, uh, Will...Mr., uh—Mr. Scarlet? Do you think we could get a picture?”

Belle’s lips disappeared. Behind her teeth, and that didn’t do anything to temper the sound of what might have actually been joy. At the prospect of the staring teenager and his photo request. 

In the goddamn Museum of Ice Cream. 

Giving a jerky nod, Will quickly scanned the kid for any team-branded, but it didn’t look like he was wearing merch and that was a rather small miracle. Far as those things went. 

Still, he had been in the middle of a pretty intense internal dialogue and potential freakout, and there was going to be ice cream on his hand if he didn’t throw this cup away. 

Belle took the phone. 

The kid’s phone. 

“Smile,” she instructed, and Will tried. Really. He hoped he didn’t end up looking like a murderer on Twitter or Instagram or whatever kids used, and he had no idea when he got that old. When things started to freak him out, and he let the nerves claw back in, and the worry take root and—

“Hey,” he said before the kid could walk back to his parents and their matching STRAND tote bags. “You think you could take a picture of us, real quick?”

No one had ever moved faster. 

In, like, the history of photography. 

Circling an arm around Belle’s waist, Will’s smile came a bit easier and that was good because he was totally unprepared for what happened after that. Another instruction and flick of someone’s thumb, but then Belle was on her toes, even with the heels, and her lips were pressed against his cheek and it was like some sort of really exceptional sugar high. 

Without the threat of inevitable crash. 

Will didn’t think so, at least. He was also pretty positive it wasn’t tigers in The Day After Tomorrow. Wolves, maybe. 

“Tell Little Vankald to save me a seat.” “I mean, I don’t think you should call her that.”

Her teeth grazed his jaw. Both of them were laughing in the picture, the kid’s eyes going impossibly wide as Will thanked him. “How hard you think it is to set up an Instagram account?”

[pathogenliliaceae]

Let the games begin. To go off on: Mia. To explore changes, potential, concerns, etc: Jill.

Oh! Cooperation is lovely! Thank you, Anonymous! This may be a bit longwinded... We'll give Mia a go first.

My Thoughts on Mia Winters:

I make no secrets that my analysis on Mia will be full of speculation. Quite honestly, though she's been in more games than some of our series protagonists, there isn't much that is truly known about her (Ha, I put "it" and had to correct myself). She is full of mystery, and while that functionally works for Ada and her behind-the-scenes mischief, there is something that absolutely irks me about the enigma that is Mia's purpose.

I think this is why: While Ada ends up being beneficial in some circumstance, Mia finds herself in need of rescuing. We are two for two, at this point. Her presence in both games is inconsequential. Everything that happens involving Mia could have been just as easily expressed in a memo or through cutscenes. Those of you who enjoy her will defend that she did not ask Ethan to come and rescue her in Seven, but truly I am not entirely convinced nor sure of how much of Mia's actions are the E-001 mould or are her own. Therefore, we cannot pick and choose.

We can, however, analyse what Mia was like prior to the E-001 infection.

Let us talk first about the organisation she finds herself involved with. The Connections, founded by Brandon Bailey, who you may recognise from memos in Five- a protégé of Dr. James Marcus. From what I can tell, The Connections does not have much to do with anything other than the E-series. They (he?) attempted partnership with HCF in the early 2000s, but the only bit of information I can find about what they did states that they only managed to "revolutionise" mind-control experiments through the use of fungus. Fungus which they obtained from Miranda under the false pretense that they would use it to resurrect Eva. Right, then- Mia joins them in 2010.

The timeline is a bit wonky in this bit, but stick with me as I try to make some sense of it. Mia and Ethan date in Texas (video games tell me that the most awful things happen in Texas) in the early 2000s, and marry in 2011. Therefore, it is (hopefully) assumed that their relationship was at least somewhat serious prior to Mia joining The Connections in 2010. One would assume that they engaged and Mia celebrated by becoming a bioterrorist. I understand, though. Weddings are expensive.

Mia keeps her job a secret from her to-be, and later- current, husband. She tells him she works as a "worker for a trading company", which- shame on Ethan for not asking more questions to uncover that elaborate ruse. That story falls apart if you brush it with a feather. She even calls the transport and handling of Eveline a "babysitting job" in her video to Ethan at the beginning of Seven. Oh, Ethan, you absolute moron. We should expect that he does suspect something, at least, as in her second video that she attempts to send she states "You're right, I have been lying to you". In October 2014, Mia and Alan spirit Eveline away, intentionally across the Atlantic, and presumably transporting her to Miranda, because the BSAA uncovered the facility (I am unsure where the facility Eveline was conceived in is located. I assume Texas, as Mia joined The Connections in Texas, and Louisiana is on the way from Texas to Romania). I am aware that some articles state that the Annabelle was headed to Central America, but I cannot find citation of it in a memo, nor remember it in my playthrough of Seven. She is "killed" (fails at containment) whilst "trading goods" (smuggling a sentient bioweapon). Ethan presumably moves on with his life, all the better for no longer having Mia as a spouse. ... Until July, 2017. All bad things happen in July in this series. Arklay, Lanshiang, now this.

As we cannot be certain that Mia is not lying, due to her track record, I will state that we cannot be sure that she did not lure Ethan to Dulvey, and therefore is entirely involved in the events of Seven, from transport to finality. Mia, canonically, unfortunately, is "cured" with the serum and evacuated from the Dulvey Estate by Blue Umbrella (which I take absolute issue with).

I've said this timeline is a mess, and my thoughts are equally messy, so I apologise again. We'll move on to Village and the bulk of what I suspect is Mia's covert (if you could call it covert) allied relationship with Miranda. Previous to October 2014, Miranda travelled to The Connections facility that was housing Eveline. There, she met and conversed with both Mia and Alan. Both were working in tandem for and with The Connections, and both were intimately involved in the E-series.

Back to the whole transporting Eveline across the ocean bit, because I've just had a thought, just WHO approves of transporting a BOW of Eveline's calibre without containment measures and protocols? Oh, yes, it could not possibly backfire that we've given everyone out of the know the impression that this is a family with a not-at-all-dangerous small child. Yes, a gun will fix it. Perfect. Whose idea was this? Mia? Alan? Brandon? Whomever, you're thick.

Anyhow- I wholly and fully believe that Mia's involvement in Village and, by proxy, with Miranda, is willful. They had met before, and by extension had worked together, on the E-series project in specific regard to Eveline and the moulded. Rosemary is born to Mia and Ethan, and the BSAA relocates the Winterses (this still makes me laugh as it does not, at all, roll off the tongue) to Romania. I am not one hundred percent certain how this comes to be the location, as I have faith that Mia would know that Miranda operates nearby. There is too much happenstance for it to not be purposeful. That, however, involves Chris in some fashion and I cannot make that connection in a way that I enjoy it. I like to imagine that Mia simply expressed that she had always wanted to visit Romania, and the BSAA bungled it accordingly.

A bit more on the BSAA in this whole instance: While I do find them entirely insufferable, an utter joke at times, I do believe that some of them are at least somewhat competent. Yes, even Miss Valentine. Canonically, The Connections has a mole in the BSAA. The Connections, who hired Lucas Baker as Head Researcher in the E-series project. The Connections, who trusted Mia to transport a sentient BOW without containment measures. Has a mole. In the BSAA.

Sure.

Anyhow, this "mole" provides Miranda with intel of where the Winterses are living, that they've just had a baby, that both Mia and Ethan are living fungal colonies, and therefore, perhaps, maybe, Rosemary may be a suitable substitute for Eva. Bit of a leap of logic there, but I digress.

This "mole" in the BSAA must absolutely be Mia. I do not think so much it's that she's in the BSAA so much as that she is privy to whatever intel they would have regarding her family because she is a part of it. Again, she would have know they were close to Miranda. "Remember that mouldy pseudo-child BOW that my organisation promised you? Have I got news for you- my husband and I have gone stale, I've got a daughter, and I'm right in the neighbourhood!"

It ultimately makes more sense in the whole of how the universe operates that Mia and Miranda would be in league with one another. One does not simply make connections in... Well, The Connections... For all this to be coincidence.

Miranda takes Mia's forme and then goes on to impersonate Mia for days, her confrontational attitude goes unnoticed by Ethan because Mia's mould-type is of the toxic variety. Allegedly, Mia is captured and holed up in Miranda's lab having been experimented on. The only supporting evidence to Mia having been experimented on is in Eugen's Diary, stating that Miranda asked Eugen to bring her medical equipment and drugs on Wednesday, 3 February 2021. On Friday, 5 February, Miranda had taken Mia's place. And, of course, Mia's claim that she was experimented on and held hostage. I have one question of all of this:

Why would Miranda need to experiment on Mia if she is infected with the same E-series mould that Miranda already has samples and an unlimited supply of due to her proximity to the megamycete? Mia does not state that she is special after being rescued by Chris, only that Ethan is special. I would argue that both are rather run-of-the-mill, but again, I digress. Simply put, I don't believe that she would need to. Us scientists are not in the habit of wanting to perform experiments for the sake of using up supplies.

Furthermore, when Chris finds Mia in Miranda's lab, she is "imprisoned" in oddly the same way as she was in Seven. Behind bars, but unrestrained. In Village, Mia even has relative access to a weapon which she tries to attack Chris with. While Miranda is a mimic, after having obtained target DNA, I do not imagine that it would be easy to have mistaken Chris for Miranda. Unless Miranda regularly comes down to her lab as other people, which would be rather amusing- though setting up for a massive security issue.

If you were to imprison someone for experimentation, it's likely you wouldn't give them anything they could possibly use to attack you with. At least, that's how I would do it in the off chance that for whatever reason I became interested in imprisoning someone against their will for the purpose of science. (Do not read into this, Christiana.)

I believe that Mia intended to attack Chris, and after failing miserably, played the damsel card.

I will end this rambling on this note: She is entirely rude, confrontational, and hostile for someone who has just been rescued from imprisonment and had their baby saved. Honestly, if this is her default personality, who could fault Ethan for not noticing his wife being replaced for three days?

In short: Ethan should have saved Zoe instead. Mia Winters is a false-protagonist who has found herself in more than a few suspicious situations, has proven from the beginning to be a liar, and already has the connection with Miranda that might foster her involvement in the events of Seven and Village.

I'm certain I've missed something further that would be worth discussing. We will cover Jill in another entry as this has run much too long already, and it is time for my job as a worker at a trading company.

[smallheathgangsters]

Business Deal (Part One)

Header made by the amazing @flowers-in-your-hayr​ 🌻

A/N: This one took so long to write, please forgive me! Although I don’t know if I like it or not. :( Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy reading it! Also, sorry for my English in advance. And like I always mention, feedback is very much appreciated!! 🥰

Request: “Hi!! I'm excited to see what you're going to post :D can I request 26 with Tommy please ? (With the reader asking the question)” by Anon

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 2699

Tag List: @captivatedbycillianmurphy​

Type: slow burn

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

“You know it would be better for everyone that way!” your father exclaimed frustrated, trying to make you understand his point. You were fuming with anger. Your father just would not treat you like a woman with a life and a will of her own.

“It would be better for you!” you shouted back at him. “Not for me! You don’t even care about my opinion and what I want!”

“Your mother agrees with me! Why won’t you see it?”

You scoffed. “Of course, mother …”

“Yes, your mother! She–“

“She only agrees with you because she herself was the daughter of a gangster and married into a new gangster family because of business she too, cared about,” you said angrily, cutting him off.

Your father grabbed a bottle of whiskey off his desk and poured himself a glass. “Why don’t you care about our business?”

“I didn’t choose to be born into a violent, manipulating family with so much blood on their hands!” you yelled, your body trembling with rage.

“Oh yeah?” your father said, raising his eyebrows daringly. “So much blood? You really do believe everything you hear on the streets about your own family.”

“So, you weren’t out burying a dead body when you missed supper yesterday evening?” you countered, raising your eyebrows as well. Your father just sighed, as if he were defeated and took a sip from his glass.

“The business with the Shelby’s has nothing to do with violence or killings or any sort of violent behaviour, as you would call it,” he said.

“Then what does it have to do with?” you asked, folding your arms in front of your body.

Your father cleared his throat and looked up from the drink in his hands. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with our business?”

“I do prefer knowing why you want me to get to know Mr. Shelby,” you answered. “And in what way that would help you with your business with the Peaky Blinders.”

“Why is it so hard for you to do your father a favour? To do your whole family a favour?” he questioned, slowly losing his patience with your stubborn demeanour. “I mean … in the end you’re profiting from the business we are doing.”

You had feared him using that exact argument against you. You knew you were living a rather high-standard lifestyle and it would be wrong for you to deny the fact that you weren’t happy about it. It wasn’t that you were spoilt, but you were happy that you didn’t have to be living in the slums of Birmingham, having gone to school with quite a few kids from the not-so-lovely area of the city and hearing their stories and their hopes of being able to move out of it when they were older.

And then there was Mozart. A stunning, absolutely elegant stallion your father had bought you on your eighteenth birthday. He was your one true love, your most prized possession, you knew you would never give away. But you always had to remind yourself that the only way your father had been able to afford such a beauty was because of the shady business he was involved in. After all, you had accepted the present.

You ground your teeth together, not knowing what to reply to your father’s statement.

“So …” your father mumbled, putting down the glass on the table and slowly walking towards you, “why don’t I invite Mr. Shelby over for a drink and you two can exchange a few words.”

He grabbed you by the shoulders carefully and made you look up into his eyes. “Y/N … I think very highly of Mr. Shelby. I would never make you be with a man that isn’t a hundred percent worthy of you.”

You pressed your lips together, trying to keep yourself from saying something your father would not appreciate. It wasn’t that you hated him. And you knew, he would never try to harm you in any way. As a matter of fact, the way Mozart was your most prized possession, your father had always made it very clear to everyone that you were his.

“I love you,” your father whispered to you and pulled you into a hug. “Please just get to know him. Maybe he’ll be able to change your mind himself.”

You gulped and nodded into your father’s embrace. “Okay.”

 ***

 You were leaning against the large wooden door and tried to listen to the voices talking to each other behind it. Your father had invited Thomas Shelby over just a day after your heated conversation and now they were sitting in his office, discussing business, as usual. You were instructed to wait in the large sitting room next to your father’s office until he was finished with his meeting. But you couldn’t contain your curiosity for the content of their business, especially since your father had told you it had nothing to do with violence. Maybe whiskey? Or horses? Unfortunately, you weren’t able to make out the words they were saying and when you suddenly heard the legs of the chairs in the office being scraped over the floor, you knew their conversation had come to an end. You immediately panicked, not wanting them to find you eavesdropping on them, pushed yourself away from the door and hurried back to the sitting room you were supposed to be waiting in.

You heard their footsteps approach the doorframe of the sitting room. “Mr. Shelby, I’d love to introduce you to my daughter, Y/N,” you heard your father say. “Considering the future of our business deal, I assume that it would only makes sense for you to get to know each other.”

You didn’t hear Thomas Shelby give my father an answer, but when you saw the two men enter the room, you knew he had agreed on his proposition.

You rose to your feet and put on a fake smile. “Mr. Shelby!” you exclaimed almost too excited. “How lovely to meet you!”

“Miss Y/L/N …” the man murmured, sounding rather bored. In the first moment of your encounter you had tried to avoid his gaze but when you caught a glimpse of those beautiful, icy blue eyes, you had trouble looking away. It was as though they were hypnotising you.

“Why don’t you have a seat, Mr. Shelby? I have something I need to finish up in my office. I’ll be with you as soon as possible,” your father said to the handsome man in the grey suit and left.

You gave Thomas Shelby a smile and pointed at the sofa opposite the armchair you had been sitting in before the men had arrived. He nodded and sat down, leaning back.

“Can I pour you a drink, Mr. Shelby?” you offered, walking over to the chest of drawers, that had bottles of different kinds of dark liquor on it.

“Thomas.”

“Excuse me?”

“Please, call me Thomas,” he repeated. You smiled at him and nodded. “I’m Y/N.”

You grabbed two glasses and set them next to each other on the polished surface. “So …?”

“Whiskey, please,” he answered, clearing his throat.

“Scotch or Irish?”

“Irish.”

You pulled the cork of the Irish whiskey and poured some of the content in the glasses. Then you picked both of them up and walked over to Thomas, handing him his drink. “I see, business is going well?”

He brought the glass up to his lips. “I enjoy doing business with your father, he’s a very honest man.”

You nodded slowly, sitting back down in your armchair. Even though you were usually quite good at being able to tell what people wanted, the Shelby seemed to be a very secretive man with an extraordinary handsome poker face. “And I hope you are too, Thomas. I don’t want to see my father being betrayed.”

He chuckled weakly. “Do I look like I would betray your family?”

“I don’t judge a book by its cover,” you told him, locking your eyes with his. “So, I do hope your heart isn’t as cold as the expression on your face.”

Your statement seemed to make him think. He didn’t break the connection your eyes had for another few seconds. Then he leaned back and sighed. “I myself hope that there is still more in my heart than coldness, Y/N.”

He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and offered you a smoke by holding out the pack in your direction. You denied politely.

“I believe you are a smart man, Thomas,” you stated while Thomas put a cigarette between his lips and lit it. He exhaled the smoke slowly and cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah? And why is that?”

“I believe my father has expressed a particular wish … or should we say a particular hope towards you? One that possibly includes me?” you said and took a sip from the alcohol.

Thomas licked his lips and leaned forward. “Your father and I solely discussed business, nothing of your concern. But you may be correct with the assumption of me being a smart man.”

You slightly tilted your head to the side, waiting for Thomas to continue speaking. Although you were a confident woman, something about him made you feel uneasy, not sure if he was doing it on purpose or if that just belonged to his character.

“I can tell that there wasn’t an agreement between you and your father,” Thomas said, taking another drag from his smoke.

You scoffed. “Look. I’ll be honest with you. I have absolutely no interest in getting to know you or even dating you.”

Thomas didn’t comment on what you just said. He just kept on smoking his cigarette lazily.

“I also have no interest in my father’s businesses, and I don’t care about your deal with him.”

You paused again, trying to make out the expression on Thomas’ face. “But what I do care about is my relationship with my father and my stallion. And I’m sure you care about your business deal with my father, as we both know he is a very powerful man.”

You brought the whiskey back up to your lips. “So that being said and for the sake of your deal and my horse, please just pretend to be my boyfriend. I know we can agree that this will only have positive effects on either of our sides of this matter.”

You put the glass down on the coffee table between the sofa and the armchair and crossed your legs, waiting for a response.

What you didn’t expect was to see him smile. It almost looked as if he was laughing at you. “Pretend to be your boyfriend?”

“Yes, especially since neither of us fancies the other, this shouldn’t be a complicated task,” you said. “And of course, this agreement will automatically end when the business between you and my father is finished.”

Thomas looked at you in amusement. Then he cleared his throat and put out his cigarette in the ash tray on the table. “How bold of you to assume that I wasn’t interested in you.”

“There is no reason for me to believe otherwise,” you explained. It hadn’t originally been your plan to propose a fake relationship, but when the thought crossed your mind, you immediately knew it was the easiest and most logical solution to your problem. “We don’t know each other,” you continued, “and I’m more than convinced that we’re too different to ever have interest in each other.”

Thomas hummed in response. You didn’t know if that was a yes or a no. The expression had gone back to the emotionless stare that was impossible to assess. A deep sigh escaped your body and you leaned forward, grabbing your drink once again.

“What makes you think that we’re so different?” Thomas questioned.

You held back another sigh. You really didn’t want to talk to this stranger of a man about what you wanted in life and how you felt about your father’s business. But because it had been you who had suggested faking a relationship, you knew you couldn’t back out.

“One day, I’d love to have kids, Thomas,” you said. “And all I want for them is to grow up in a safe environment without gangs and corruption and violence. The only way I can ever offer them that is by marrying a man that has absolutely nothing to do with the business my dad is involved in. A nice, simple and caring man with a normal job.”

You paused and then added, “And morals.”

Thomas breathed in loudly, placing another cigarette between his lips and lighting it. He took his time until he finally spoke. “You’re very naïve, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry?”

His comment offended you, making your eyebrows furrow.

“Do you really believe you will ever not be associated with the relations and businesses your father has?” Thomas asked, looking at you intensely. “This lifestyle will follow you on every step you take in your life, you can never escape it. The only thing you can do is try to cope with it in a way that is right for you.”

You felt the pace of your heartbeat speed up with every word Thomas said, hating him for what he told you but deep down knowing he was right. Especially since you loved your family very much, despite your father’s work.

Thomas noticed you thinking about what he said. “You know I’m speaking the truth, Y/N.”

You ground your teeth together, avoiding his piercing gaze. You shot up to your feet, walking over to the chest of drawers. “I need another drink.”

Before you turned your back to Thomas, you could see him roll his eyes and then massage the bridge of his nose. “You don’t need a drink, you need common sense.”

“Common sense?” you hissed, spinning back around. “Do you know who you’re talking to, Thomas?”

“I do,” he answered. “And you’re still the one wanting me to pretend to be your boyfriend.”

You let out a sound of frustration, picking up the bottle of whiskey and walking back to the armchair to fill up your glass. This time you poured in twice as much.

“Fine.”

You watched Thomas’ corners of his mouth dance. It seemed as if you were amusing him with your attitude instead of promoting a serious talk between two responsible adults.

“Is something funny about our conversation?” you asked him angrily.

He shook his head. “No, but I’d like to propose a deal.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “Of course, what did I expect from a gangster.”

“Would it be possible for me to take you on a date before I agree on taking part in this fabricated relationship?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “A date …?”

“Is that a no?” he said, raising his eyebrows and making you blush unexpectedly. You disliked it when people made your confident appearance crumble.

“Are you trying to make me like you?” you challenged him.

Thomas took a drag of his cigarette. “Am I making you insecure?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his remark. He really knew how to push your buttons. Although you weren’t able to say if in a good or bad way.

“Okay,” you finally said, smiling, as if you were defeated.

“Okay what?”

“Okay, I’ll let you take me on a date.”

Thomas gave you a quick smile. “Maybe, Y/N … maybe we won’t have to pretend in the end. Let me get to know you and let yourself get to know me.”

You nodded, still smiling at him. In that exact moment your father burst into the room, excusing himself for being absent for so long. “Something came up, please forgive me.”

Thomas put out his cigarette and stood up, turning to my father. “That’s all right, Mr. Y/L/N. Your daughter was very pleasant company.”

“I’m glad you two get along,” your father said, “That means there’s nothing standing in the way of our deal.”

Thomas chuckled and threw a glace over his shoulder towards you, making your cheeks get heated once again. “Not a thing.”

[thatdamnokie]

so, as everybody knows, our man, the lovely mark strong, turned 57 this past august 5th

since the kingsman films have had a huge influence on several aspects of my day-to-day life (gee, wonder what group of people i could be referring to...), i decided to sit down and do something i’ve been thinking about since getting my medical card earlier this year: getting high as a kite and watching them back-to-back.

to celebrate mark’s birthday, i decided to do another running commentary post like the one i did for rocknrolla ages ago, under the cut. it’s a pretty similar style, which is to say not necessarily super coherent and might be hard to understand if you’ve never seen the movies. D:

there are some mentions of the roanoke society, but not many.

if even just one person finds this mildly entertaining for four seconds, then i’ll have done my job. there is a lot of cursing and this is NOT spoiler-free.

enjoy~

edited 9.1.20 to correct typos and such, please remember that i was Not Sober while i wrote this lmao

how many times have i watched these movies at this point? i don’t even know.  

i always liked the nifty like—retro arcade marv opening animation

and the thing with the tapes! we love book-ending devices!

kingsman: badass motherfuckers worldwide incorporated

like why was merlin even with them? i understand why lee and james would be there, but merlin, was he not acting quartermaster then?

i have SO MANY FEELINGS about lee unwin

i think it haunts harry and merlin more than anyone thinks, but these are fun spy movies so we just don’t talk about trauma and shit, don’tcha know

don’t look at how merlin tears up and tell me he doesn’t drink about it *HEAVILY* later

it’s such a stark contrast to see the 1990s interior vs. what it’s like when eggsy’s grown :(

michelle baby i’m so sorry. you deserved better than this.

and BABY EGGSY

omg. like this scene is both heartbreaking but is also adorable.

colin firth has gd anime legs, that dude had to straight up unfold himself as he stood up lmao

aaannnnd swooping logo, whooooo, goin’ over some mountains~

and mark hamill, ladies and gentlemen!

this whole thing with james deciding to kinda go rogue makes me wish that we knew more about his backstory as well. like, is this james being james, or was this a weird one-off situation and he was just unlucky?

YES unlucky. nobody could plan for the hurricane of sleek destruction that is gazelle

who has one of my favorite aesthetic designs as a villain (although i guess i’d put her more on maybe henchman level? but idk, it seems like valentine looked at her more as a partner, less like an assistant? and they had a very interesting chemistry together too, like i would’ve added more valentine x gazelle scenes)

i would LOVE to be this chill about just—draping blankies over bodies

blankies over bodies sounds like a cool band name

DIBS you guys can’t have it

i am SO GLAD samuel l. jackson gave valentine a lisp!

valentine, to me, does fit a lot of the usual spy movie villain tropes

but since this movie doesn’t take itself super serious, it’s more fun than annoying

and we never hear about any of the other knights?? like

half of this is just gonna be me whining for additional footage that there just wouldn’t have been room for realistically lmao

michael caine, you are lovely

MARK STRONG, LADIES AND GENTLEMAN

WITH LEGS THAT DON’T QUIT AND AN ACCENT THAT I’D DIE FOR

i’m an embarrassment

like let’s all stop and thank god that mark didn’t have time to learn the welsh accent

not that i would’ve been disappointed, because all accents are good accents on this blog

but at this point i can’t imagine merlin as—not scottish

“try picking a more suitable candidate this time”

arthur you DICK

like were you this cold-blooded when lee died, you fuckin’ reptilian-ass son of a bitch

no wonder you were charlie’s pledge person thing

and enter the fabulous taron egerton, stage left!

DEAN you are DISGUSTING

god, michelle, you need better friends, if you were my bro this entire relationship would’ve never happened

;-; and eggsy’s so sweet with his sister! i know there probably wasn’t “room” for it but i AM glad that there are scenes showing that family is one of eggsy’s kinda “core values”or whatever you want to call it

dude is a hufflepuff through and through imo

can you imagine eggsy as a villain? we would be so fucked. he’s sly, he’s smart, he could’ve made life v e r y difficult for lots of people if he really wanted to

but look at him with the squad!

eggsy’s just like the british version of a good ol’ boy

this car scene is some dukes of hazzard bullshit (ramp-jumping and fun car horn aside)

if butterflies are harry’s main symbolic critter, would foxes be eggsy’s? or would it be a pug instead? i guess that’s like asking if harry would be either a butterfly or a cairn terrier, like mr. pickle. let’s say both.

this fandom is pretty on top of character associations like that

you get symbolic associations! YOU get symbolic associations! EVERYONE gets symbolic associations whether they’re actually in the canon or not! don’t have any? don’t worry, we’ll assign you at least one!

the guy playing the interviewing officer is ALSO the patriarch in the witch which i didn’t realize until—like, a while after

and it was while @circlesofbone​ was visiting, and we were just “oh, okay, guess we can’t escape this cast at all, this is fine”

“your father saved my life.”

harry you’re such a fucking peacock, waiting all posted up and posing so you’ll look cool

you big doofus

i’d kill to be inside his head during this first conversation with eggsy though

like is eggsy like lee? is harry seeing lee the entire time he’s talking to his son, in his mannerisms, how he carries himself, how he speaks?

or is eggsy the opposite? which—i don’t know if that would somehow be sadder?

there’s just a lot going on in the background of this bit that’s left up to interpretation

“although i’m sure it’s well-founded—“

harry’s just so casual about this entire thing, nobody’s that casual without practice

harry you rabble-rouser, what kind of life have you led

“manners. maketh. man.”

our timeless motto, my flowers

kingsman STILL to this DAY has some of the most well-choreographed fight scenes i’ve ever seen??

like yeah the church scene but even just this initial bar fight

harry could’ve been a dancer

in a way i guess he already is

like he moves so fluidly and gracefully, it is BONKERS

colin you did so good! i’m so proud!

the way eggsy’s just O.O

whether or not you ship hartwin, like, you gotta admit, that was hot

and his BODY LANGUAGE, he’s sitting like RAMROD straight, this poor dude lmao

nobody prepares you for a situation like that in public school is all i’m saying

harry, exiting stage left like a suave, smooth motherfucker

remember when iggy azalea was relevant

ugghhhh i hate this part

“I WASN’T WITH NO ONE”

can you imagine being harry hart listening to your dead friend’s son getting the shit beat out of him

like, surely he heard the cleaver, he knows dean was going to fucking gut eggsy right?

listen to how cold and icy his voice gets, oof

yeah, he’s pissed, and dean is lucky

PARKOUR

ugh, i want to go to london ;-; i want to walk in front of the shop and visit harry’s house and kiss cute english boys

i’d like to think harry’s super excited to show eggsy everything but he’s gotta keep it dialed back because “decorum”

the way eggsy pauses though

“come on.”

and he says it so softly.

if i was eggsy, i’d be nervous, too.

but i didn’t realize how quickly harry tries to give off signals like “hey there’s no reason to be scared.”

“like my fair lady?” “well, you’re full of surprises.” <3 one of my favorite sceneeesss.

harry’s voice is so soothing but eggsy is so freaked out by the elevator that he’s just—there’s no room for anything else beyond processing the elevator lmao

“how deep does this fucking thing go?” asking the real questions

aannnddd KINGSMAN BULLET TRAIN

i’d like to think they have like soft jazz or something playing in there

and then they get to the hangar and there are obviously a buuuuunch of people out on the tarmac that we just—never hear about? i just assume they’re all like technical officers or maybe other agents

“your father had the same look on his face. … as did i.”

harry is already rooting for him.

“late again, sir.”

that. brogue.

fuck, i could listen to him talk for hours, scottish accents are my favorite thing

#squadgoals

not a very diverse cast :/

the body bag speeeeech

and of course nobody was in any actual danger, but merlin doesn’t want them to know that so he becomes mr. hard as steel, i am emotionally stoic at all times, do not test me you bunch of rugrats

“classic army technique.”

ROXY

ROXY I WANT TO JUST HOLD YOU IN MY ARMS TT.TT

aannnnddd charlie, also

who we might’ve found sympathy for if we knew aaannyytthiinnggg else about his backstory

like, could he just be Like That, yeah

but most people i know who are assholes like that are that way because their parents were first /shrug/

can hardly fault the dude for turning out like that when poison was all he was given to drink

anyone else a hundred percent positive they would’ve drowned in the first trial

i would absolutely have panicked and bit it

but then again, i’m not kingsman material, i’m roanoke

and if this is the exact same test that merlin and harry went through, does that mean there might be some weird drowning trauma hidden back in there that’s just ANOTHER thing we’re not gonna talk about?

(yes the correct answer is yes)

god that’s such an american response to the problem though

glass can’t cause problems if it’s in a million pieces!

“yeah you can wipe those smirks off your faces…”

i wonder if there was ever a situation where a trainee actually drowned

and i don’t mean like amelia, i mean some poor kid who just failed the test

merlin knows how to put the fear of god in people though!

and mark strong, very handsome, yes, very scary, also yes

he and colin both look like they’re 80 percent leg in every single scene

harry literally had brain matter smatter ALL OVER HIS FACE and still somehow had the mental facilities to be aware of those dudes, leave a bomb and dive out of a window (and then escape said dudes)

billy badass, y’all

“just get it done.” okay, i took back what i said earlier, maybe he does see her as more of an assistant, less than a partner. their relationship is weird.

the puppy scene!

“it’s a bulldog innit?”

YASSSS the golden trio

because of what happened with our other canon charlie has become a weird character for me to watch, like, yeah, i “watch” charlie be himself in tss but the charlie i “see” is like—”our” charlie.

“bollocks!” and then he just runs with jb in his vest, makes me smile

aannddd we see valentine’s super cool factory

harry your hair gets so long <3

“water!” wow, who wants to bet that the fact he was instantly screaming means that maybe he’s gonna have some stuff to talk about in therapy later

roxy baby i’m sorry they made you hold the balloon and have to trust these dumbasses to not shoot you on accident

i would trust roxy to not shoot me

i love, love love valentine’s house

it’s gorgeous

set design is always such a cool way for filmmakers to include details about a character using pure aesthetics and i’m such a slut for it

tilde!

see also: one of the characters done the WORST by these movies imo!

the fact that she not only says no, she says no with enthusiasm and gets blatantly pissed, is one of the best insights we get into tilde’s character and then it just—gets wasted

like it takes three steps and then gets mowed down in the hallway like her guards

i would never be given the opportunity to be asked if i wanted an implant but i draw the line at having stuff put into my neck

awwww harry’s so proud!

that finger point “yeah, see, be more like your uncle”

merlin is SO TALL

“a bit much innit?”

he’s just—tapping a normal clipboard

… nobody wanna talk about how that’s a normal clipboard

anyway

i also love how they show him in professor sweaters for the beginning acts of the movie

definitely a softer aesthetic than one would guess for a dude who apparently did field missions sometime within the past decade or so, but i also have a theory that lee’s death directly contributed to merlin maybe being the man behind the screen as opposed to afield

because trauma is a thing but this is a FUN movie so we’re NOT gonna talk about it

“you’re gonna be all right. you’re top of the class!” this was the scene that made my mom a reggsy shipper

regardless of how you feel about them as a couple, their friendship is one of the best things about this movie, along with their dynamic with charlie, asjdnaskdjna WHY could we not have had a trio movie instead

eggsy you show-off “lemme just throw my arms up and dip outta this plane like it’s not a big deal”

roxy you can do it!

ugh, there goes my baby, off to have a near-death experience under merlin’s immediate supervision lmao

“good girl, rox, glad you made it!”

guys, they’re just kids.

i love this big group scene because it reminds us that these are just young folks, still

“my, my, you’re all very cheerful...”

“rufus, come on!” dude eggsy—and not even just eggsy, charlie and rox too--at least made an attempt at teamwork. you get points for that bro

but man, for all they know, they’re about to beef it in a very permanent way, i’d be freaking out too

merlin getting caught up in the drama

because again, he’s supposed to know that eggsy has a parachute

i think he wasn’t prepared for these two to get that close to not making it and that’s why we see him break face and drop his mug

*WHAM*

i HATE the sound of them landing

it’s not like you can hear bones breaking but it hurts me, guys

and then there were three

plus one daddy long legs quartermaster

“if you have a complaint you come here and you whisper it in my ear.”

yes SIR

“you need to take that chip off your shoulder.”

merlin coming’ in with the tough love portion of the kingsman core squad

there’s no reason for me to think harry’s persona was inspired by cruella de ville somehow but i do anyway

she reveals the mcdonald’s and valentine is just :D

idk if he was expecting a specific reaction or was just excited to see a reaction period

valentine is definitely a fun villain, which, given the tone of the movie, makes sense, it’s all supposed to be fun

one of the reasons i love kingsman is that it’s like, this golden ray of goofy cinematic fuckery in a world of grim!dark remakes and other superhero/spy films who are presented as more serious stories

“and thank you for such a—happy, meal.”

harry got a puppy smile

but see, then, here at his house he’s a lot more relaxed with gazelle! like, patting her butt, etc.

maybe what we see of their relationship is dependent on setting, because valentine himself has it compartmentalized?

perrrrrrhaps

“and i am never, EVER GOING TO AGREE!”

tilde, you deserved better, and i think all the weird hate you get from our ohana is unfair

you don’t twist a runner’s ankle before the race starts and then get mad when they don’t win

your story was mishandled from the beginning

asmr: hanging out with the golden trio watching worrying news in the kingsman trainee bunker room

the way he says “biblical sense” lmao

i have never been able to figure out if the way he says that line is supposed to infer spiritual respect, or lack of it, but i might be looking too into it

“it’s an acquired taste, mate.”

what—what would you even do if you were at a club and three people as hot as taron, ed and sophie all came up and start talking to you at the same time

like i know the target got up and left pretty quick because of the training exercise

but i’d be doing it because i’m ugly and if three hot people are all talking me up at a bar something is Bad and Wrong

which—the CAHONES on both eggsy and roxy

they both literally said “yeah i’m willing to die for this organization that hasn’t even given me a permanent place yet, what of it”

look at harry’s dimples in this scene, he is fighting a huge grin, he’s SO PROUD

i know that charlie’s response is supposed to be just more fodder into the “charlie hesketh is a tool” fire

but given that i’m not unconvinced that his home life wasn’t super shitty, like—

idk, this makes this scene a lot less fun to me. it makes it sad.

like, maybe charlie didn’t even want to be there deep down, maybe this was all for like, arthur, or his dad, or some other person he looked up to

and the way merlin looks when he tells charlie to go home, the way that he’s kinda grimacing? i’m wondering if he’s along the same kind of feeling. he’d know more about charlie’s history

have i also mentioned how much i love harry’s war room?

“YES harry!”

an evil plan is being born!

“true nobility is being superior to your former self.”

eggsy is still in his club clothes, so like—has he slept? y’all let those kids sleep after fucking drugging them, right? … guys?

“—when one is popping ones cherry.”

and eggsy is just CHEESING he is SO EXCITED

am i the only one who wants to learn more about the store clerk guy though?

he’s like the one person around who’s legit just there to run the shop

has no idea about any of the spy stuff happening

his name is donald, he’s married with three children and has two spaniels he loves

“THAT is sick.”

i would KILL for this room.

i don’t need anything in here for any reason but still

foreshadowing, foreshadowing, foreshadowing, more foreshadowing—

harry is such a NERD

“put it back, eggsy.”

the amount of self-control it would take to not have a sudden change in expression in that moment, omg

i wonder how THAT gets trained up in kingsman

“i guarantee it.” ha, get it, it’s a reference to that one commercial

“y’all—talk so funny.”

and this all means that they had a contact at that hat shop and got all that info to them before valentine got there, and somehow made sure he did end up buying a hat that they could also successfully put a bug on, how deep does this goooooo

“jack bauer?”

it says a lot about eggsy that out of all the jb’s it could’ve been, it was jack

uggghhhhhh of course they HAD to do this scene with eggsy with arthur

obviously harry couldn’t do it

i just think most of us would NOT be fans of arthur at this point in the movie, we’re all rooting for eggsy, like, he needs this moment with this other character because we gotta drive home that he’s an asshole

also—would have absolutely failed that test

and i’m not sorry at all

“welcome to kingsman--lancelot.”

i was really happy that it was a female agent who ended up getting the handle

aannddd more echoes of past scenes, man, nobody can say that this crew wasn’t intentional with their cinematography

when eggsy rolls the window down you can see his chest moving up and down, like, he is MAD

dean you asshole

so no wonder he gets so pissed that the car suddenly decides “nope, no, we’re not doing this, c’mon”

this entire conversation at harry’s house is—tense

and you don’t pick up on it the first time, i don’t think, but uh

i’m seeing it now

harry’s not just mad, he’s hurt, and eggsy’s furious but he’s also maybe regretting his actions.

it’s these two men who are rapidly trying to figure out their headspaces and trying to figure out how to navigate this situation with each other

and the way eggsy tries to apologize ;-;

kentucky is a beautiful state, actually

ohhhhhh y’alllll

we’re at the churrrccchhhh

we’re gettin’ closer to the coolest part of the movieeeee

it’s telling that gazelle was trying to make sure that they’d be safe

“… so hail satan, and have a lovely afternoon madame.”

the most metal lines colin firth has ever uttered on camera

the siren noise after it’s switched on bothers me in a way i can’t quite articulate

it might be because i have silent hill-colored trauma, who knows

FREEEEEE

BIIIRRRDDDDDDD

THE GREATEST ACTION TRACKING SHOT IN THE HISTORY OF CINEMA

but then eggsy and merlin are reacting aaaanndddd it’s—a lot less fun

because you realize that they’re watching their bro mercilessly slaughter innocent people and not stopping

and still not stopping

and still not stopping

but plot twist, i’m really glad they kept the track going, because if they’d suddenly picked *this* part of the scene to get serious, that would’ve brought the mood down so low that i don’t think there would’ve been any bouncing back

i just

how do people exist who aren’t attracted to harry hart

that man is a machine

and colin worked so hard to be able to do the scene himself, and that work SHOWS, that man cuts a FIGURE

i don’t know how they managed to somber it up just the right amount, either? maybe because they waited for the “fun action sequence” to be over so there wouldn’t need to be noise that had to be masked by a fun rock track?

“… what did you do to me.”

i cannot imagine what harry was feeling in that moment.

the way he spoke it was like he didn’t even have time to be afraid to die

“that tends to happen when you shoot somebody in the head. feels good, right?”

“no, it does not feel good!”

i love that exchange because we normally hear the opposite.

also—whiplash.

mark has this way of expressing grief without showing any—blatant signs.

like merlin’s not especially tearful, or crying, but his eyes look MASSIVE. and SAD. and he has just the tiiiiiniest tremor in his voice.

and eggsy, dude, like, we’ve all had it come on us really quick and suddenly it’s like your chest is pumping like a piston and when did it get so hard to breathe?

ARTHUR you REPULSE me

like look at how egssy’s shoulders sag when he realizes that arthur isn’t on his team

and in a way, this is eggsy’s final test as a kingsman trainee, imo

do you realize how quickly he had to assess what was happening and figure out what to do, all without arthur noticing?

“you are all alone. it is all up to you. remember all you have learned. good luck.”

it’s a very—almost horror-esque situation from that pov

and he passed with flying colors to go on his first true mission, because after he puts on the suit, that’s his visual cue of graduating, if that makes sense

that’s the knight putting on his armor.

“i’d rather be with harry. thanks.”

“so be it.”

*click*

me: *laughing at arthur’s big dumb stupid head*

… man i’d love a replica of that decanter and glasses set though

not to mention that eggsy recognized the flaws in arthur’s character and weaponized them, which is a whole other level of shit that isn’t necessarily easy; he knew that arthur carried the kind of pride that would leave him open

god, he looks so exhausted though when rox has him at gunpoint.

i think he was being pretty serious, about harry

sick helipaaaaaaad

that thing looks vaguely like a rock-‘em sock-‘em robot but in pieces though

more grandpa sweaters <3

man. you can see roxy swallow, you know she’s scared, but then she just sets her jaw and—

roxy baby you are the best i love you

i like the vintage vibe of the mountain lair

i think that’s another visual poke at the aesthetic themes of some of the older, og spy flicks out there

merlin looks SO LANKY walking back to the plane for some reason??

he stays until the last second for roxy. that’s love right there.

“a bespoke suit always fits.”

which can be good spiritual life advice too but that’s a separate conversation

“what the fuck is WRONG with you people?”

and his fuckin’ disco ball

uuggggghhhhh his speech reminds me of so many… “public figures” that i dislike

even though it’s obviously a bad thing that the chips are everywhere, i appreciate that phones and such are being shown in a positive manner (like, michelle talking to someone in the park, people at a ball game taking selfies, people at the beach, etc.) because i get so sick of that anti-tech boomer humor tbh

and the big reveal of eggsy in his suitttt

A KNIGHT IS BORN

“how’s the view?”

“hideous.”

you’re allowed to be crabby baby, you just let it out.

“lookin’ good, eggsy.”

“feelin’ good, merlin.”

merlin is so calm heading into the fortress and i don’t know if it’s because he’s very, very good at compartmentalizing and that’s genuinely how he is at the moment or if he’s that way through extreme self-control and effort

he can rock a pilot’s uniform though

just like eggsy can rock a suit

they’re both so handsome, help

i also wonder how eggsy’s feeling right then

like, i’d imagine that the pressure of having to perform a role to literally save the world would be enough to distract him from the bite of grief

that’s—probably enough to distract everyone, tbh

i a hundred percent believe there are breakdowns we don’t see

i wonder if eggsy told tilde he’d spoken to lindstrum(sp?) after everything was said and done

like, that’d be some kind of weird foreshadowing in hindsight

this scene is anxiety-inducing in a big way so to distract myself i imagine roxy as a mech pilot

dude i’d totally watch sophie in a role like that, like, let her be in a movie like pacific rim, she’d kick ass

and now we have The Chaos

otherwise known as that point when Everything Is Happening All At Once All The Time

also a thing that doesn’t exist in spy movies: hearing damage

because like his voice is right in eggsy’s ear and without it he’d have a LOT harder time surviving

imagine being an agent, merlin trying to talk to you, but something either hits your ear or goes off right next to it and suddenly it’s just silent

SYSTEM FAILURE

YAAASSSSS

WE WIN

GGOOOAAAAALLLLLL

THE AUDIENCE IS DOING THE WAVE

except JUST KIDDING

The Chaos 2 Electric Boogaloo!

merlin with a huge gun: hot, also, very scary

eggsy is just 10000% done

“this is mine. i’ll show you yours.”

i wonder who e man was supposed to be that valentine called.

like is that a reference to a real person that i just did’t catch?

… elon musk? maybe? idk

eggsy slides like a gd anime character

when he uses the rainmaker, it’s just like harry’s protecting him from somewhere else

(oh—wait, technically kentucky, i guess)

“merlin, i’m fucked.” you can hear the anger there. not only did he fail, but he—and everyone else—is about to die

but this? this is the pinnacle of eggsy showing himself as a kingman agent

he was staring death straight in the mouth and STILL

SOMEHOW

REMEMBERED THE IMPLANTS

so i guess if i say that the moment when he puts on the suit is when he becomes a true agent, then maybe this is the moment when he becomes galahad.

*bobs head to pomp & circumstance*

i remember getting a huge kick out of how colorful they made this

because in real life you know a bunch of people literally blowing up would be like—DISGUSTING

viscera everywhere

no fun rainbow mushroom clouds

“i’ve always wanted to kiss a princess.”

ANOTHER knight reference, very clever matthew

mmmmm Do Not Like that noise

aaaannndddd *that* line

which—maybe that’s mr. vaughn’s sense of humor, or what he thinks the sense of humor his core demographic has, idk

but it always kinda rubbed me the wrong way

the mass brawl scenes are edited so like--jarringly compared to the other fight scenes in the movie

that’s probably for a reason

also, a showdown to the tune of something disco: kind of another trope homage

this shot of gazelle is so sick, i love everything about it, she is so cool

this entire fight with eggsy is awesome tbh

we got a little bit of what gazelle can look like in combat earlier with tilde’s guards, but now we get this epic showdown seeing her at her full potential against someone who’s actually a challenge

and the way valentine is shouting for her to kick his ass from upstairs and yelling encouragement lmao that’s how real friends act when there’s a fight

daisy ;-; ugh, that’s the visual gutpunch that makes it juuuuuust serious enough by reminding us of the stakes

which is why it’s fitting that then we see the Slo-Mo K.O.

and that smile with the fun little chimes in the back, lmao

and eggsy, quick on his feet again byyyy being quick on gazelle’s feet—foot—whatever

man, impalement deaths are always fun.

coulda done without the vomiting but that’s also one of valentine’s quirks that makes him different from a cookie cutter villain

aaannddd have a heavy sigh from merlin

that dude needs a full-body massage and a drink

“is this where you say some really bad pun?”

reminder: i love that this movie is self-aware! i could not picture a super serious kingsman movie! i just picture something depressing!

there had to have been a better option besides—this, for this eggsy/tilde ending scene

i’m not saying i’m mad it ended with them fucking, i’m mad that the extent of the joke was anal and that was it.

also the idea of my boss possibly seeing me having sex would have me a little more concerned about the hardware on my face, but okay??

aannddd the tapes.

gah, we love visual throwbacks!

we love being able to see that despite all this growth and change, family remains very important to eggsy—he hasn’t changed into a different person, he has grown more into himself than ever before! THIS! THIS is eggsy unwin!

… GET READY FOR IT

time for tgc! (and to get into my roanoke feels, maybe, this is the nexus where our canons connect)

the BAGPIPES

okay

i did not stop to consider how unpleasant this was going to be to watch stoned but we’re gonna power through it and get through it together

if i cry i cry

the way the music swells into the main theme <3

and the perfect reveal for our boy eggsy!

reflected in gold, looking sharper than broken glass

and SUDDENLY CHARLIE

the pacing in tgc leads me to believe that matthew had huge plans for this movie, and a lot of cool stuff probably ended up on the cutting room floor for time

i also love that they brought charlie back

i love his voice box and his cool robot arm

and i’m not just saying that because it made it super easy to blend him into our canon, either, this is like—charlie’s evil twin in terms of his new aesthetic, the contrast is really cool

YYAASSSS THIS SCENE

WITH PRINCE PLAYING??

*CHEF’S KISS*

like we are IMMEDIATELY thrown back into the gold parts of it all, like how physics is a little broken so we can do cool shit like have a knockdown drag-out fight all within the space of a small cab

i wonder what would’ve hurt charlie worse—being thrown onto his organic side, or having all his weight land on his metal arm if it hadn’t disattached

but then he’s up and standing so i guess we’re fine?

MERLIN! <3

otherwise known as the character entrance that literally changed my life

i try not to think about it too much or i get weirded out

ANYWAY

(and to think i almost never even saw the movie)

Sick Car Chase, Bro

and as an american, like, everything’s on the opposite side to me, it’s stressful to watch a little bit

“i seem to remember in your training you were rather good at holding your breath.”

man, that’s uh—kind of a macabre thing to say, merlin

just a little bit

i’m not even gonna attempt to hold my breath to see if i’d survive this scene just assume i’m dead in that universe

we all live in a kingsman subarmine, a kingsman submarine, a kingsman submarine~~

“not boasting, but i trained him well enough that even he wouldn't mess that up.”

merlin are you okay??

gah, i love that chest-deep laugh though.

is it real love if they won’t crawl through the sewer to get to your house in time

i love that harry’s house looks basically the same

i know they talk about eggsy not wanting to change anything in the novelization but i haven’t read it yet so I’m not a hundred percent sure what all is in there

and we still get to see him hanging with his friends, and his girlfriend, like, this dude is still all about the family

“wwwwOOOOO!”

i love this group so much omg

for as much as he’s galahad, he’s still eggsy

the transition in the weed bag looks super cool

… oh, i guess watching this while high makes the main storyline hit a bit different

welp

i love that poppy is an aesthetic slut and really doesn’t give a shit about anyone’s opinion about how she makes her space

like, “i want a big 50s-style diner with a gourmet kitchen that i can cook people in, soooooo i’m getting one”

it’s also refreshing to see julianne moore in a bad guy role!

not that i’m super familiar with her filmography but i feel like i’ve mostly seen her cast as like a good guy?

i could be wrong

awwwww jet and bennie!

there’s so much to love about this set

cannibalism and the fact that she bulldozed jungle to build all this aside (suspend that belief!)

the breakfast sceeeeeene

it’s so bittersweet, for obvious reasons

and it’s more evidence that he’s not super ready to move on into new territory yet, like making new memories with tilde that ring close to home

“i wish i could have met him.”

and the way he has to turn away, ugh.

eggsy. i’m sorry.

tilde, i’m sorry, too. you had good intentions, but they lost against his pain.

michael gambdon! the new arthur we didn’t know we wanted until we got him.

charlie had a moral glo-down, it’s fine, happens to everybody

FFFFFF his imitation of merlin lmfao

man, poor charlie, like

you wake up, you can’t make a sound, your arm has been blown off and your family’s dead

like his reaction to that entire scenario isn’t entirely unrealistic, i’m just saying

also LOOK AT ROX

omg everyone in this movie can wear the FUCK out of suit, y’all

man, i’ve gotten a few tattoos that were exquisitely painful—i can’t imagine how much it would suck to do it with literal molten metal

dude this means clara laid on her stomach and probably screamed at the floor as she got hers D:

this kinda—riffs off of hannibal, a teeny-tiny bit

like we’re so overloaded with the aesthetics and behavior of a certain character so it’s like, we forget about the much darker parts untillllll there’s a mood change and we’re looking at that dude’s legs, to the burger this other dude puts in his mouth, and thinking “oh, oh dear, ew”

i love eggsy in the orange jacket <3 snaps for the wardrobe crew across this series.

tilde’s face, omg, she was heart-eyeing so bad. and like, that little proud nod at her dad (who was of course being Like That on purpose)

and roxy, coming in in the clutch, you are tonight’s MVP

uggghhhhh i hate this part

because again, it’s just--a bunch of bad shit colliding outside of anyone’s control

(it was also really jarring seeing the war room with blank walls the first time i watched this)

like—granted, you should maybe not touch stuff that’s not yours, but…

like we *just* saw eggsy and brandon in a very casual, intimate scene with each other, how can anyone get angry with brandon?

this is all stress-inducing

i remember being in the theater watching this and feeling like i was watching some awful slow motion car wreck and i couldn’t look away

idk what other story i would’ve wanted to see but i was NOT a fan of Sudden Death For Christmas, especially concerning roxy!

and poppy is such a *bright* villain, not just because of taste but because of her personality, which is another weird thing to have next to the cannibalism

gaaahhhh charlieeee your arm is so cooooool

this shot is gorgeous and incredibly depressing.

what do you do?

gah, and the way merlin comes out of the dark, like

i probably would’ve drawn a gun on him too

“you think *i* would?”

this scene shows 1. how much he trusts eggsy to not shoot him, and/or 2. how good merlin is at compartmentalizing, because this is an even bigger blow than harry’s death, and he’s following the protocol like it’s an art form

i hope that we see some reference to this safe in the next movie, that’d be a cool way to tie the narratives all together

“i suppose that must be upper class humor. … i don’t get it.”

reminder, merlin is working class.

if you’re a ho for this fandom and went and bought this whiskey specifically because of this movie clap your hands *clap clap*

and they proceed to just get HAMMERED

“country rooaaddsss… take me hoooooome…”

another reminder: kentucky is a beautiful state!

i would love to tour a whiskey distillery, that’d be super cool

“shame it’s not scotch”

again, with his weird night vale clipboard.

who would win: two highly-trained kingsman agents vs. one (1) cowboy

channing tatum, ladies and gentlemen!

“y’all look damn sharp!”

i am forever gonna be mad we didn’t get more of tequila in this movie, and not just because of roanoke either, but like, “that dog don’t hunt,” whatever he has in his mouth sealed a leak in a barrel, and it took him all of two minutes to incapacitate both eggsy AND merlin? hello??

i’m glad we’ll get to see more of him in the another movie.

“you know why the measurement of alcohol is called proof?”

just dumping it on their laps, so disrespectful

“—and you can go fuck yourself.”

eggsy fucking just giggling.

these two doofuses

also it’s hot to see merlin be sassy ngl

“HARRY!”

these guys have been fast thinkers in stressful situations but as it turns out, people being unexpectedly not dead can kinda fuck with your day

aaannddd halle berry, everybody! i love ginger ale omg

(and so does merlin, he is instantly enchanted)

;-; this reunion scene

i don’t know how colin manages to be two completely different people at once

like there’s a huge difference between former agent galahad and harry hart the lepidopterist and i can’t explain it

i really, really hope we see at least one little hint at kinsman’s relationship with statesman in the new movie, i just think it’d be really cool

in roanoke canon, there’s an office rumor that the nanobot tech used by statesman was influenced directly by the same technology developed by dr. wernicke in the outlast games. i still think it’s one of my better crossover ideas.

also

god bless whoever decided to get elton john involved with all this?? because i was DELIGHTED

i love poppy’s wardrobe as much as i love her weird 50s-land in the jungle

i also really love the main statesman theme? it reminds me of all those fun epic westerns

jeff bridges! :D

champ vaguely reminds me of my dad

“can you imagine us in the tailor business?”

and he’s super quick with the questions. my headcanons for champ are all over the place but one that i really like is that he was maybe a sheriff or in law enforcement before being recruited by statesman.

aaanndddd pedro pascal, everybody!

otherwise known as *another* character that this movie did dirty, that’ll probably come up in this later

imagine being harry hart, not remember all of yourself, and suddenly your entire room just—fills with water

that had to have been so terrifying, and it was just as hard for merlin to watch (and possibly remember something unpleasant)

and like

that sounds like SUCH bullshit, too, like “yeah we thought if you came close to drowning it would help”

which, is that what merlin meant, no, but is that what harry heard, probably

enter jb the second ;-; <3 sweet baby

tilde’s trying so hard. i see you!

aha, penis jokes.

and all of the unnecessary weird festival stuff, uuggghh

there are so many different things they could have done, like, all of this is just weird from the get-go

first of all, whiskey striking out? hello?? saying no to a man like mr. pascal???

not realistic

the way whiskey takes a shot as he walks away lmao, relatable

and poor clara, like, it’s not like she was asking for any of this D:

hmmmmmmm don’t know how i feel being a stoner watching other stoners get this blue rash thing when i know it kills some of themmmmmmm

i love charlie in his newsboys cap!

poppy has a little bit of a point. like, booze is way more dangerous than pot, as is tobacco. like i would never advocate anyone try meth or heroin, but i think weed and some hallucinogenics get bad wraps.

seeing a dude get torn in half in the reflection of elton john’s sunglasses is the surprising bit of gore we need to remember that oh, yeah, the villain isn’t fun, she’s a murderer

uuggghhhh the TENT SCENE

and, look, i’ll defend tilde forever, but i did NOT like the weird marriage ultimatum. i still think it’s a dick move, like, in that situation either decide to trust your boyfriend or break up with him

the tent interior is super cool-looking

and like, man, he tried, he tried to bounce D:

/sigh/ work hazards, i guess

mmmmmm we don’t need any of what’s happening on screen right now so i’ll just sit patiently and wait for it to be over

and like, there’s nothing funny about merlin and ginger being able to hear everything that’s going on, it’s so grosssss, poor ginger has to have heard some shit before to be so nonchalant about it

everything about this sucks

and then he tries going to the one person who he needs the most and having to deal with him still existing in some state between alive and dead

his body is here

but harry is not

“maggots turn into flies, perhaps you mean larvae!” :D he is SO CUTE

but this entire conversation, with harry still not remembering and eggsy trying so hard to reach him through the fog, is so depressing

like, i’d need a drink too

*and* a joint

i’m seeing my coping mechanisms on screen here folks

the way he comes up with the idea is kinda ingenious though

like, he’s looking at stuff to make himself bummed on purpose, but therein he finds the thing he needs to fix the issue

harry’s smile when eggsy hands him the puppy TT.TT

and then eggsy just becomes a stone cold motherfucker with no emotions

“no one’s sick enough to shoot a puppy!”

hi, flashback!harry

and as SOON as he remembers himself, it’s like his eyes are different, something about him looks like it did before kentucky

“… eggsy.”

one of my favorite movie hugs

and eggsy has to stand on his tiptoes because harry’s so tall

like yeah merlin and harry’s reunion isn’t as overtly emotional, but there’s definitely a sense of joy and relief there.

harry my baby ;-; much better with the sunglasses (and merlin was so close to telling him he looked spectacular)

“now is that any way to welcome a visit from outta town, moonshine?”

he! tried! to! defend! harry!

i hate that jack got a villain story line!

we could’ve had something so much better and infinitely more compelling!

“hurrrr durrrr morgan you just like redemption arcs because you don’t want anybody being a villain permanently” i also like them because sometimes that’s better writing, y’all sit down

“that is NOT what i call a kentucky welcome.”

i love so many things happening in this scene, like

we get to see whiskey kick ass, like yassss gimme those sweet action sequences and give us some character development by showcasing his fighting style

and also NOBODY shits on harry for not being able to handle the situation. both eggsy and merlin were like “dude we’re still celebrating the fact that you’re alive tbh it’s fine if you’re not back up to speed right this second”

you can really tell that this was penned by british people writing american slang because having grown up in the southern half of the u.s. i have never ONCE heard ANYONE say shit like “i feel like a tornado in a trailer park” lmao

and poppy’s fun little death threat infomercial, so great

“what have you done to me you FUCKING BITCH” oof, that’s a mood

!!!!! gonna be honest i kinda forgot that bruce greenwood plays the president

okay but save lives, legalize isn’t an entirely bad idea tbh

hnnnnnnng the scenes about people not being able to get into the hospital hits different in the year of our lord 2020 huh

… y’all i’m being weirded out by all this hospital scenes, this is unpleasant

i, too, wish i could pull a tequila and just be slipped into a chilly coma until shit wasn’t so fucked up

“the fact is, this presidency has won the war on drugs!”

THIS SCENE!

look, y’all can come into my inbox and call me a pothead, or a lazy stoner, or some third insult, but this dude’s VP is bringing up some very, VERY important points when it comes to any kind of discussion about drug use in the u.s.

am i drug-friendly, sure, but i’m more friendly to the notion that we stop demonizing addicts/users

harry looks fucking SCANDALIZED when he sees champ spit into his spittoon thing

i don’t think whiskey even brought up harry not being ready to return to the field in an insulting manner, he literally just saw him get his ass beat in a bar, but eggsy’s faith and loyalty are up there in the category of unstoppable force/immovable object, so here we are

am i the only one curious about the whole charlie x clara thing? because he’s definitely grown up a bit by tgc, and i wanna know how much of that might be because of clara

and he MISSES, e for effort harry

“so sorry about this—“ WHAM

and now that guy can say colin firth busted his face with a fire extinguisher, which is very cool

“*you’re* wu ting feng?” “… yes?”

“you motherFUCKER” ohhhhhh charlie maaaaaad

ginger and merlin though, #couplegoals

the only person more pissed off about the hallucinations than everyone else is harry

imagine remembering that you’re one of the top people in your field and you just keep seeing imaginary butterflies everywhere

like, yeah, i’d be pissed at not being able to do what i knew i was capable of, too

if it wasn’t careening towards a random retirement center, getting stuck in a wildly rotating gondola thing could be fun

nice tuesday afternoon activity

i would loved to have seen more galahad/whiskey field stuff

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me—“

meanwhile, in the continuing adventures of eggsy and jack: shit goes from bad to worse like a formal spiral only going downward

their expressions as their both just SCREAMING always make me laugh

”that’s the first decent shit i’ve had in three weeks.” <- as does that line, that old dude’s just telling it like it is

eggsy’s comment about the antidote just reminds me of when boromir looks a the ring and says something like “all this for such a tiny thing”

dun dun DUN what are THOSE? hints that whiskey may not be who we think he is??

great. so excited about that. i say, rolling my eyes into the sun

“i’ll fix their wagons.” no one says that matthew!

i. love. this. scene. because now we get cool gun tricks AND the second most metal thing that happens with a lasso in this movie (we’re coming up on the most metal thing)

like please please PLEASE show us more lasso tricks in the statesman movie

“well thank fuckin’ christ i didn’t need any backup.” i wonder if whiskey’s acting angrier than he actually is to throw off the fact that he might’ve caught harry’s glance at him betraying suspicion

RIP jack

imagine the timeline where whiskey was never a bad guy and harry hart just blew a dude away for NO REASON

now THAT would be an interesting movie

because harry and eggsy, for all they went through in the first film, never had a conflict where it was harry in the position of mangling the ropes up

but of course eggsy would never, never tell merlin what happened because he’s still ultimately on harry’s team

damn, charlie, literally blowing up your girlfriend seems kinda extreme

“THIS is vital!”

and here we get to see the biggest difference between merlin and ginger

now, i know there’s extra stuff in the novelization about their relationship and i can’t talk about it because i have no idea what’s in the book

but!

i DO still headcanon as merlin quitting fieldwork after lee’s death

his comment is either what he genuinely believes, or maybe what he fashioned his beliefs into after stepping down from his field role, and ginger is just as sincere in her desire to break into that aspect of working for statesman

it’s like seeing the same character but in two points in time, and it’s really cool

that balance would’ve also been a fun aspect of their romantic relationship to explore but alas! ’twas not to be

colin and mark could both play slenderman

look at those limbs.

gracious.

also this facetime scene with eggsy and tilde T.T

that has to be so terrifying to watch when you know the steps of death and what they look like as they get closer

but it also puts a fire under eggsy though

“i’m leaving with, or without you.”

and of course they’re both gonna go because that’s NOT characteristic eggsy behavior based off of how we know he views family/squad

that’s how they know he’s being for cereal

uugggggGGHHHH and THAT FORESHADOING

stacey pruitt, attorney at lawwwww

hmmmmmmmmm

what does this conversation between poppy and the president remind me of

gonna just sigh into the void

and now we have harry and eggsy on the jet along with the BIGGEST LIE harry hart has ever told in his LIFE

kingsman and statesman aesthetics at least tend to be the same color schemes. lotta golds, yellows. browns.

eggsy, yeah, it’s a bummer your gf dumped you, but this relationship wasn’t very well-developed or written so i’m not as bummed as i could be

“… and in that moment, all i felt was loneliness and regret.”

harry shut the FUCK UP

you felt NOTHING??

you weren’t thinking of, gee, i dunno, EGGSY? or MERLIN?? your MOM???

like these lines from him just seem to come out of left field and i can’t even halfway suspend my belief long enough to come close to believing him

like mr. hart you just gonna be like that in front of jesus and everybody????

so, yeah, of course he’s on board with saving tilde! because he recognizes (apparently just right that second) that “having something to lose is what makes life worth living”

and i don’t know if they felt like there need to be some weird, deeply contrasting reason for harry to swing around to being in support? or something?

like

i’m forever pissed about this characterization and i don’t even know if i’m expressing my anger in a way that makes it easy to understand lmao this is fine, i’m fine, literally not a single person in this fandom ever believed those lines anyway, it’s fine

moving on

... and even if they WERE true then honestly that just makes me more excited about butterfly knife, because that means that harry acknowledged both the bad side of the coin, and also the side with rae on it (which would mean seeing her for who she was and also recognizing his feelings for what THEY were) and drew the ultimately correct conclucision that love! is! always! worth! it! let that shit in like a welcome guest in the home of your heart, and they will stay as long as you let them!

as SOON as he wakes up ginger looks a thousand percent done lmao

and the “process” that they use to wake people up or whatever is—interesting

because all it is, is trauma turned into a tool which is kind of a weird concept to see in a “fun spy movie” imo

and this is one of what i feel were like only what, two? glimpses we get into whiskey’s Tragic Backstory

and the other scene isn’t a glimpse it’s just straight up exposition in his dialogue :/

jack, i’m sorry, you deserved better than this as a character

i’m sure the name “silver pony” is a reference to something but i don’t know what

“lookin’ GOOD merlin!” “feelin’ good, eggsy.”

ladies and gentlemen when i tell you that i lost my pool-noodle mind seeing him put on that suit watching this in a theater, i--

ANYWAY

because now that i have the horrible burden of having seen these movies a million times

i know it’s more symbolic

he stays in sweaters so long, as an agent of the background, because he walked a man to his death

so it figures when he puts the armor back on for the first time in ages

he walks to his own

uuuggghhhh the minesweeper

i hate this

i hate it

i hate everything about the feelings i’m having while this is happening

*beep-beep*

“you move, we die.”

i HATE IT

but like, i don’t know, how preferable is this to the end scene we almost got, which was merlin dragging his newly-legless corpse through a doggy door?

because it’s been literally multiple years and i still have no fucking idea

they’re both horrible in their own terrible, awful ways

damn, matthew, it’s not often someone manages to come up with multiple versions of a thing and have every version be so gut-wrenchingly horrific, i’m truly impressed and completely disgusted

“do as your told!”

god

everyone just going through twenty shades of Bad Feelings in the space of fifteen seconds here in the jungle

and colin and taron do this thing where it’s like—their eyes go dead? like, there was a light here, it’s gone now

it SUCKS

oh

oh no

ALMOST HEAVEN

WEST VIRGINIA

… fuck

LIFE IS OLD THERE

OLDER THAN THE TREES

“… singing?”

this sucks.

this sucks this sucks this sucks

MOUNTAIN MAMAAAAA

TAKE ME HOOOOME

COUNTRY ROOOADDSSSSS

*THUNK*

and he even took off his glasses before he hit him, he had his end coming towards him and he was still a gentleman

TAKE ME HOOOME

COUNTRY RROOOOAAAADDDSSSSS

his EYES AT THE END

FUCK

… okay i had to get up and go for a lil’ walk

anyway

(and again, roanoke canon, fucking fixing’ shit left and right, because we’re the goat)

harry and eggsy look MURDEREROUS

MERLIN SAID KNOCK YOU OUT

it DID make the grand ending fun action scene a lot more satisfying

because like, without merlin there, that means harry and eggsy get to go full feral

poppy you big idiot you just robbed them of all their motivation to show any kind of restraint and now everybody’s gonna get blown up

except for those dudes who get kicked by elton john

which would be an HONOR first of all

(the part where eggsy’s using his gun and shield vaguely reminds me of the specialist, @bloodofthepen​)

and harry and eggsy just—they’re drift compatible! that’s it! the teamwork! the grace! the flow! my god!

eggsy vs. charlie: round like 4 if you count the first movie

it was also satisfying to see charlie’s new arm in action

we love fun robotics and gadgetry in this house

colin firth is really just not afraid to throw himself full force down a bowling lane huh

ugh, seeing charlie slam eggsy over and over again makes my chest hurt

the sound mixing on all these films is top notch which isn’t always a good thing T.T

ROCKETMAN~~~

that shit will never NOT be funny

a wild elton john appeared!

eggsy is indestructible, he can walk off anything

but charlie, charlie i feel really sorry for, imagine being attacked by a superior version of your own limb, i.e. something that you can’t exactly quickly remove from yourself, that would be TERRIFYING

harry + elton = dream teaaaammmm

“darling if you save the world, you can have a backstage pass.”

i love you elton john :(

i would have been the most OBNOXIOUS hype man in the background of the entire kingsman vs. poppy land face-off

“let’s make this fair.” eggsy you’re fuckin’ cheeky

and poor harry, all that lank just getting tossed like noodles

i thought the robot puppers were very cool

“for the record charlie i’m more of a gentleman than you’ll ever be.”

mmmmmm do NOT like this death for charlie

SUPER glad we fixed it

and another scene where i can’t stand the sound mixing T.T it makes me cringe every time

“i don’t consider genocide especially lady-like.”

and are we gonna talk about how merlin knew how to make heroin?

… no?

nobody wanna talk about that?

ugh that houndstooth dress is so PRETTY though

high!poppy is weirdly comedic for all of two seconds and then it stops being funny real fast

whiskey D:<

this is so dumb

this is all so, so dumb

“our agencies were founded to uphold peace, to protect the innocent—“

there’s that nobility again

is what happened to whiskey fucked up, yes

i’m not saying we have to completely remove that from his story

i just

literally anything but this would have been preferable

and then HOT DOG it’s one of my favorite shots in the movie with the whip where harry’s just chucking it away from his face like a bamf, YES

how great is this cover, let’s be honest

like, i’d be lying if i said i didn’t enjoy this scene visually

plus

HARRY GETTING PEGGED RIGHT IN THE FACE WITH A FRYING PAN

gracious

it’s one fluid tracking shot, so kinda in alignmentment with what we’re used to

some people get annoyed with repeated junk but when you can do it THIS WELL you can get away with anything

D:

but then jack

you did NOT desert that

yes, you were in dire need of an attitude adjustment but jesus

“this is for you, merlin.”

/ugly sobbing/

and tilde is all betterrrrrr ;-;

you guys did itttttt

COUNTRY ROOOAAADDSS

TAKE ME HOOOOOOMMEEEE

TO THE PLAAAAAACCCEEEEE

I BELOOOOONNGGGG

and the scene with jamal and liam T.T #wholesomecontent

poor tequila, after i knew that you would have a bigger role in another movie, i was less annoyed by the fact that they iced you so quick into the story

#FOX2020

“… now we’re brothers, working side by side.”

spoiler alert i actually love champ’s toast

“y’all shittin’ in high cotton now” WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???

and ginger becomes the new whiskey like she always wanted T.T

merlin is proud from heaven (or london, depending on which canon)

iiiiiii have mixed feelings about the whole wedding scene, which is probably because i take HUGE issue with the weird proposal ultimatum thing that happened earlier

but the way eggsy says “not a doubt in my mind,” he says it so seriously and i remember that tilde almost died

there was such good intention packed into this couple that was so badly written that i just

augh

“but it is perhaps the end of the beginning.”

there’s ***merlin! lmao i see you dude, they did you dirty

look

i was pissed off about a lot of things that happened in this thing but i was honestly hype seeing tequila at the very end walking into the tailor shop

like, yeah, i’ll stick around to see what happens in this universe but i’m gonna complain the whole time

GO JACK RABBIT

RUNNING THROUGH THE WOODS

and again, i almost didn’t see this movie.

… i think about that morgan sometimes.

hope she’s doin’ okay.

…

she’s probably not. D:

[sooave]

The Problem With Wanting: 1

It’s 2026, and an old celebrity crush comes to haunt your old and cynical heart. You’re doing great at pretending you were never obsessed with him, and finding things about him that you don’t like. Until you’re repeatedly forced to work with him. Until he decides that he’s in love with you.

Genre: I really don’t know what to call this, but it’s not an AU, Kyungsoo’s older and still a celebrity, and it’s friends-to-lovers.

Characters: Kyungsoo x Reader 

Length: 2,314 words

Tags: Angst, Slow Burn 

Part 1 | Part 2

The problem with wanting, was that the human brain’s pathways are more easily activated for desire, rather than liking. In other words, humans naturally want things more than they actually like them. Obviously, you didn’t fault anyone for that. You knew that humans are all victims of the mechanisms of their biological systems.

Just like how you never blamed your own body for being frustratingly uncooperative when it was exactly a week before your period.

Just like how you didn’t fault Do Kyungsoo at all for confessing to you, and asking you to be his girlfriend. You knew that he just wanted you. Now if he actually had you, he’d certainly be disappointed. No, his brain would be disappointed.

Being single at age 30 was surprisingly easy for you, considering the fact that it practically made you a spinster in Asian society. Your parents’ one saving grace was that they immigrating to North America, and brought you in tow. When you returned to Korea as a full-fledged adult with a string of ex-boyfriends and old jobs behind you, it was increasingly apparent to you that Korean society was at times lovely, but hugely flawed.

Back home, the Korean aunties that your mother would bring home no longer gave a shit about the fact that you were, God forbid, an artist. And an unmarried and childless one to boot. Their own children had put them through a fair share of self-perceived grievances already, and while most of them were still conservative at heart, they knew that they lived in a society where their values weren’t necessarily correct. You knew that they didn’t all understand that their values were straight up incorrect. But at least you didn’t get harassed about your life choices.

Coming back to build a career in your birth country had you encountering situations that made you laugh and feel uncomfortable at the same time.

“You’re self-employed? How are you ever going to find yourself a husband?” You’d tell them that being your own boss in fact made your schedule much more flexible. And that you fill up the time with pursuits that actually improved your life, like cooking and yoga. Not shitty dates with people you couldn’t connect with.

Of course, the nosy aunties would continue heavily implying that your life’s purpose was to find a good husband, carry your bloodline, and take care of the home.

“Thirty?? You should have had two kids by now?” You would politely inform them that you weren’t interested in having children, and if you did, you’d adopt an orphan in need instead.

“There won’t be any good men left at this point! You’re in trouble now.” This one, you couldn’t really argue with. You were a firm believer that if someone was single for an extended period of time, there was a reason.

Most of the time, they were a shitty person. Other reasons? Nursing a heartbreak. Pining after someone unattainable. Obsessed with their career. Etcetera.

And you?

You didn’t have your priorities straight. But after a countless number of bad dates, bad relationship, mediocre relationships, and some okay ones, you kind of had an idea of what you didn’t want in a boyfriend. You were doing just peachy by yourself, for now at least.

Sure, maybe you’d want to find a life partner eventually. That would come naturally. You were also a firm believer in the fact that the best matches are found organically.

But surprisingly to you, one of the blind dates that you’d begrudgingly gone on 3 years ago was actually bearing some fruitful benefits. Your date was an assistant PD at one of the largest entertainment companies in Seoul. He was a decent guy, but was insistent about being the sole provider for his future wife. That obviously didn’t check out with you.

Luckily, he didn’t hold a grudge against you for cutting your third dinner date short once you learned of that particular value, and even suggested you as an artist for several show segments. Today, your expertise was blackboard art. Other days, it was digital painting, or watercolours. But they all focused on food illustrations.

Seung-woo, your ex-date, had a particularly annoying habit of talking your ear off while you were working. For some reason, he assumed that the several hours you spent slaving away with your arm raised over the chalk board was the perfect time to catch up with you and ramble on about his love life.

“And then, she started ordering the spicy chicken even though I had explicitly mentioned that I had an upset stomach! Really. The nerve of her.”

“Oh…” you hummed disinterestedly as you filled in the grey base colour of the fish that you were drawing for the background of this board. Apparently, some professional chef along with a celebrity guest were going to be in the kitchen today filming an episode on ways to cooking methods for fish in Korean cuisine. This particular series was something you’d seen before while you were living in the U.S., and while you felt that Korea was a bit slow on the uptake, at least they were doing something interesting with it. You didn’t get to see a lot of Korean traditional cooking methods on American-owned YouTube channels.

“So… we’re going on a second date tonight. What should I say?”

If you were in America, you would have already told Seung-Woo off for disrupting your work and being a total wuss. But this was Korea, and you couldn’t really afford to offend the very person who got you this job contract. Plus, gossip travelled like wildfire, and soon you’d be labelled as difficult to work with and saying bye-bye to your steady income.

You had to take a deep breath and set down your chalk, in fear of snapping it in annoyance.

“Did that tell you something?”

Seung-woo set down the kitchen prop that he was playing around with onto the counter.

“Tell me what?” He echoed.

“Did her action of ordering the spicy chicken tell you that she had an undesirable trait that you cannot accept from a partner?” Your tone was bordering on one that a disapproving teacher would take when reprimanding a student, but luckily Seung-woo didn’t catch that.

He wasn’t as taken aback by your mannerisms as he used to be, but ever since you explained that you spent all of your formative years abroad, he was able to rationalize all of your non-conservative behaviours.

Instead, he actually thought of your advice and comments as thoughtful and interesting. You always refrained from mentioning that your perspective came from years of counselling and therapy, in fear that he’d label you as psychotic. Seung-woo had no idea what mental health was.

After a round of hums and haws, he finally responds.

“You’re right, it did. Are you trying to say I shouldn’t go on the date tonight?”

“Hey, I just asked a question. You came to that conclusion your self!” You turn around and throw a dirty rag that you’ve been using into his chest.

That finally got him to leave you alone, after whining about your aggressiveness and how unladylike you were. Luckily, you still had plenty of time to finish the piece, and once the annoyance hindering your progress was gone, the flow started to come naturally to you.

Time began to fly by as it usually did when you were absorbed with your artwork. Before you knew it, it was already time for the segment filming to start. It wasn’t everyday that you timed your work perfectly, but today you hit the deadline exactly.

You knew that the filming was about to begin because of the camera lights had began to turn on, and a buzz of conversation had started to grow in the centre of the room. Sometimes it irked you that you were working right in front of a dozen cameras and microphones, but it was comforting to know that they had absolutely zero interest in filming you.

Seung-woo had unfortunately appeared again, appearing behind you like a golden retriever wagging it’s tail. You were packing up boxes chalk into your carrying case, attempting to ignore him as much as possible, but something he said caught your attention.

“Wait. What? Who?” You had absolutely no idea what he had said, except for the fact that a horribly familiar name fell from his lips.

“Do Kyungsoo. You don’t know of him?”

“No, I do…” Too well, in fact.

“Well, he’s here right now. I could get you an autograph if you wanted too. Just ask your oppa nicely!” He shot you a shit-eating grin and you almost want to strangle him amidst the absolute panic you were experiencing.

You weren’t experiencing a real panic attack, thankfully. But the way your hands were shaking as you placed each piece of chalk back into it’s designated slotted groove gave away that you were one-hundred-percent losing your mind. As your heart raced in your chest, you did a mental checklist of the facts that faced you right now.

You were, or you used to be, absolutely obsessed with Do Kyungsoo as a celebrity. This was back in your late teens, when you were a freshman at college.

You had not thought about him, or even looked up his name, in almost 5 years. Real life got in the way. And your cynicism.

And he was right here.

In this very room.

Suddenly, your brain was kicked into hyper-awareness mode, and it was almost impossible to resist the urge to finger comb your hair and smooth out your clothes. Fuck. You weren’t even wearing a cute outfit. Today had been a boyfriend jeans and black t-shirt day for you.

Seung-woo was still standing in front of you, looking at you expectantly, and you reminded yourself that you had to actually respond.

“Er… no. I’m good, Seung-woo,” you rolled your eyes at him, “What makes you think that I’d want an autograph? You do remember that I’m an old hag right?”

He noticed that you were having difficulty stuffing your chalk boxes back into your bag, and leans down to help you.

“Who said that you can’t have celebrity crushes at age 30? I wouldn’t shame you for that. Plus, you’re still single…” Seung-woo waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh my lord,” You mutter in English to yourself, before switching to Korean.

“Idols are for the young or the delusional. Plus, they’re just regular ol’ people just like me. You take anyone with a bit of talent and a decent face and I’m sure they could pass as an idol.” This is a mantra you’ve repeated to yourself almost a million times, and it rolls off your tongue.

“God, you’re always so cynical…ah!” Seung-woo stands up to greet someone and leaves you struggling with your bag on the floor.

“No, I’m just old,” you said to yourself as you right yourself.

And then you come face to face with a profile that you’ve started at on your phone screen, your computer monitor, and even billboards, umpteenth times. It’s closer now, way closer. You saw the slight smile lines on his cheeks, and the unevenness of his skin that hasn’t been photoshopped out. But his strong eyebrows and heart-shaped smile were the same. And his eyes.

Kyungsoo was shaking hands with Seung-woo and another PD, but his eyes flickered to you briefly as you got to your feet. And then they’re gone. Like they didn’t see you at all.

You took a deep breath and reminded yourself that he’s just another person. He probably leaves his phone ringer on. That’s something that annoys you. Annoyance. It’s your weapon against anything you’re scared of. But it’s also grounding you in this insane moment.

Reminder, you’re staff. He’s the star of the show.

“Ah! This is our chalk artist, she made the board behind us,” Seung-woo declared proudly and grabbed your arm to pull you back, just as you were preparing to sneak away from the awkward circle of personnel. You’ve never cursed so strongly in your own mind before, and a string of fuckshitfuckshitfuck was still going through your mind as you gave a tight smile and bowed. All while avoiding eye contact.

You saw Kyungsoo and a few others glance at your work and you couldn’t help but cringe. God help you, you had confidence in your work, but were you completely unprepared for your teenage/young adult celebrity crush to judge you. They politely express amazement at the board, and you robotically thank them.

Seung-woo continued to discuss some detail about the segment and you took the opportunity to duck away and escape with your bag, not even taking a second look back. You were tempted of course, as you left through the studio doors. You could even stay to watch the entire filming, and no one would object. They knew who you were.

But there was no way you would be able to not fall back into your stupid crush that you still had, if you were able to just stand and watch him cook for an hour and a half. You were too old for this.

You gritted your teeth as you got in your car, placed your duffel on the passenger seat, and buckled your seatbelt.

Today, you would be an adult and do the right thing.

Tomorrow, you’d give dating apps another go.

But right now, you imagined another universe, where he was a regular person, and so were you. Then, you could allow yourself to fall in love. You closed your eyes and leaned your head onto the cold glass of the window and allowed yourself to fantasize.

A/N: I’m totally throwing this into the void and doing this for myself but part two is coming.

[a-day-in-the-afterlife]

The Night Team Is Bad At Road Trips (Oneshot) (Fanfiction)

You can read it here on AO3.  I know that there's no "Hour 4" section. It's because I was too lazy to write it, and I figured the early hours when Nine drove, it was so peaceful that nothing interesting happened!

Title:

The Night Team Is Bad At Road Trips

Summary:

When the 14th Department Annual Retreat rolls around, the Manager, Nyang Lead Manager, and Sei Housemaster decide to turn the eight-hour drive to the retreat location into a road trip competition to encourage all Soul Reapers' attendance. The prize? No cleaning duties for a month.

And there is no way Nine is letting any of the other teams get even a glimpse at a prize that wonderous.

As the Night Team travels to the retreat location, he begins to realize ... maybe he is the only one is his team with a braincell.

Then again, maybe not.

Just some Noctu bonding.

Genre:

Slice of Life, Humor, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Fluff and Humor

Rating:

T

Word Count:

6574

-

Hour 0

Our story begins inside the Noctu Team Dorm, in the bedroom of Nine and Day, where the human puppy of the two Soul Reapers ransacked the room in search of the last few belongings that he needed to pack for him and his team’s trip to the Purification Plains for the 14th Department Annual Retreat. 

The 14th Department Annual Retreat was a favorite of Nyang Lead Manager’s, as the destination point—the Purification Plains—was a place where all Soul Reapers could rest and relax and take time to remind themselves of the true meaning of Purifying vengeful spirits (of course, many suspected that the lake brimming with fish was actually the real allure for the fussy feline).  

He, Sei Housemaster, and the Manager had already gone ahead two days earlier to get things set up for the rest of the 14th Department, and, to encourage the Soul Reapers to attend the retreat as soon as possible, had set up the days prior to the actual event as a competition to see which Reaper Team could travel the eight hours to the Purification Plains the fastest.  The winning team was exempt from all Soul Reaper cleaning duties for an entire month. 

And oh, how Nine craved that one month of complete freedom.

Yet, he could feel a muscle in his left eye twitch, as he watched his roommate (who had decided that five minutes before their departure was the most opportune time to pack) scramble around the room for his remaining shirts and pants and hair ties and candy and snacks and pretty rocks and shiny beetles and mini elephant figurines and all manner of fidget toys to play with.  

Noctu was, by some stroke of misfortune, the last team to leave for the day (even Mane—who had Jamie, the supposed slowest Soul Reaper in all of existence—had left before them), and Nine could slowly feel his grip on the prospect of a month free from all cleaning duties slip away.

Day’s side of the room had always been a mess, and Nine loathed the day when Theo would get a glance at it, but he never bothered the lumbering Soul Reaper about it, because firstly, it was too much trouble, and secondly, even in all the chaos, Day seemed to know where everything was. 

Or so it had appeared.

“Nine-Nine, Nine-Nine, I can’t find my favorite jacket!”

“I believe it’s on top of your chair, Mr. Day.”

“Nine-Nine!  My hair ties are all gone!  Tachi-Tachi made them for me!  What am I going to do?”

“Are not the hair ties Aitachi gave you the ones on your wrist, Mr. Day?”

“Wow!  Can I show you the really sparkly flower I found under my bed, Nine-Nine?”

“Mr. Day, I promise I’ll look at it after you finish packing.”

And so it went for another five minutes before Day declared himself “ready for adventure.”  Nine breathed a sigh of relief as he and his roommate grabbed their respective luggage (although Day had offered to carry Nine’s seventeen suitcases for him because he only had one and was “stronger than Nine-Nine!”) and walked into the common space of the Noctu Team Dorm.  He prayed that he would find the tribesmen duo of Aitachi and Kirr, all packed and waiting for them, but unfortunately, that was too much to ask for, as the pair were nowhere in sight.

Before Nine could send Day to go out looking for them, however, out lumbered both Kirr and Aitachi from their bedroom, each with not a single suitcase in sight, but rather, massive messenger bags slung across their shoulders, Kirr’s made of leather, and Aitachi’s, merino.  

Kirr smiled at the two from across the dorm.  “Day, Nine, do not fear: Aitachi and I have packed emergency provisions enough for the both of you.”

“Brother Kirr is right,” replied Aitachi, nodding, and patting his bag.  “We will stave off our mighty foe, ‘Malnutrition,’ with all the food that we have!”

Nine shoved down the need to facepalm at the duo and in a composed voice, asked, “Do you two happen to have any clothes packed with all the emergency rations you have in your bags?”

Aitachi and Kirr exchanged confused glances, before the older of the two asked, “Why would we bring a change of clothes if we plan to wash and dry the ones we’re wearing right now in rivers as we blaze our trail to the Plains of Purification?”

“Kirr-Kirr, Tachi-Tachi, that’s so smart!” exclaimed Day, as he made motions to throw out from his own suitcase all his clothes, too.

Nine held a hand out to stop him and swallowed a sigh.  “Mr. Kirr, Aitachi, I think it would be greatly beneficial if you two brought several days change of clothes along with all this, as we won’t be doing trailblazing of any sort to the Purification Plains.”

“Oh, that’s right,” realized Day, sadly.  “Manager said that everyone is taking a ‘road trip’ there, and we’re supposed to be driving the car that the Department left for us.”

Nine wanted to laugh at the we’re supposed to be driving the car remark, because, due to the fact that he wanted to go on living, there was no way that he was going to let any of the other members of the Night Team drive their Department-sanctioned car.

It wasn’t that he liked driving or even particularly wanted to, but he was one hundred percent certain that up in the cold alpine regions that he had grown up in, the only thing that Kirr had ever driven was a pack of sled dogs; Aitachi was only fourteen and up until yesterday, had assumed that the entire party was to travel by way of horseback; and Day, who he treasured greatly, was … Day.  Nine was sure that in the entire time Day had been in the Otherworld, he had yet to pass his driver’s license test and was still patiently nursing his permit. 

But he didn’t have the heart to correct the well-meaning Soul Reaper and nodded.  “Mr. Day is right.  Our trip shouldn’t take us more than eight hours if we take the car, so you don’t have to worry about washing and drying your clothes on the way there, but you will definitely need a change of outfits when we get to the Retreat, unless … you want Mr. Theo and the other Soul Reapers to keep a twenty-mile radius from you.”

(Was it terrible of him to think that that wasn’t so horrible of a prospect?)

Aitachi valiantly declared, “Mr. Theo’s actions will have no effect on me!” but turned around to his room to pack some clothes, anyway, while Kirr slunk off after him, muttering under his breath, “How inconvenient.”

Nine groaned softly as he and Day followed the pair, because frankly, while Aitachi—who liked to sew his own clothes—had something that resembled style, Kirr believed clothes were simply a troublesome necessity; he didn’t even own anything nicely colored or patterned (“In the forest, it is best for a hunter to wear dark, solid colors to blend in with their surroundings”) and had absolutely no fashion sense at all.  And as Nine, who had an appreciation for beauty, refused to let one of his teammates be the bane of anyone with eyes, he felt it his obligation to now ensure that Kirr did not pack everything in the realm of beiges, blacks, and whites for the Retreat.

After several minutes of sorting through Kirr’s clothes and wondering how every item managed to smell so strongly of pine and bramble, Nine deemed the Night Team ready to take on the open road of the Otherworld.  

He herded the group outside of the Department building and toward a clunky black minivan that looked nearly five hundred and thirty-seven SRE years old (he knew the 14th Department was cheap, but really?).  

Nine bit back a laugh when he saw Day carefully arranging his lanky arms and legs into the driver’s seat.

“Mr. Day, I believe it would be best if I did all the driving.”

Day looked surprised.  “Nine-Nine, that’s not fair to you.  We need to take turns!”

“Brother Day is right!  As warriors, we must all learn to share the burden,” said Aitachi.

Kirr nodded gravely.  “It’s not possible for one hunter to take up all the shifts in a single season and succeed.”

Nine didn’t know what to say to that, but as he definitely wasn’t going to let the rest of the team drive, he decided to politely allay their concerns by saying, “In the Otherworld, you need to have a license to drive.”

This seemed to satisfy both Kirr and Aitachi—although he suspected that that was because neither of them was familiar with what driver’s licenses were—but Day surprised him by pulling out a glistening card from his pocket.  “Ta-da!  Look, I have a license, too!  Manager went with me to go get it last week!”

He felt his stomach sink as he slunk toward the front passenger seat and said, “Ah, excellent work, Mr. Day.  Let’s you and I take two-hour shifts, then.”

Nine sighed as Day revved up the engine and cheered, “Yay!  Let’s go, Night Team!”  

He was going to die for a second time, wasn’t he?

Hour 1

“Nine-Nine, Tachi-Tachi, Kirr-Kirr!  Do you guys mind if I play some music?” asked Day, who, although had proven in the past fifteen minutes to be a moderately competent driver (He had only almost crashed three times!  A new low record!), was now completely turned around to address the two of his team members that were seated in the back passenger seats.

Kirr looked mildly concerned because as a hunter, he was used to and greatly appreciated the silence, and had regarded the quietness of the group in the strange vehicle known as “a car” as a kind of comfort.  However, he assented with a stoic “No,” when he noticed the disconcerted expression that Day, who enjoyed silence as much as any exuberant puppy, wore.  

“I have no objection!” assured Aitachi, who was curious as to how Brother Day intended to play a musical instrument when he was busy using both of his hands to operate the “car” machine that they were currently in.

It wasn’t that Nine didn’t appreciate Day’s choice of music—it was just that he knew that all the songs on the tall Soul Reaper’s Otherworldify travel playlist were either super sweet bubblegum pop or some kind of holy music in another language with lots and lots of sitar.  As it turned out, he, like Kirr, was a slave to Day’s melancholy expression and was forced to suffer with a “That’s fine, Mr. Day.” 

Day brightened instantly—it was so gloomy when it was silent—and, taking his eyes off of the road for a few seconds, reached for his cellphone to blast his travel playlist on the car’s speakers.

Nine cringed almost imperceptibly, and Kirr and Aitachi exchanged astonished glances because where was the music coming from (Kirr also privately wondered if the flamboyantly peppy lyrics of the female singer even could be considered music)?!

“It must be the work of spirits,” concluded Aitachi, nodding.  “Brother Day must have employed them to make these noises!”

“Waaaaah, Tachi-Tachi, it’s not noise—it’s music!” said Day, whose eyes had grown to the size of saucers at the comment.  “And hehe, nope, no spirits—the music is coming from these speakers!”  He gestured toward their various locations in the car, leaving exactly zero of his fingers on the steering wheel.

Nine nodded and took this opportunity to lower the volume as he elaborated, “Speakers amplify the sounds that pass through them.”

“What an amazing contraption!” cried Aitachi.  He turned toward his companion on the right.  “Don’t you think so, Brother Kirr?”

Kirr was silent for a few moments before measuredly answering, “It is indeed extraordinary … but will the music not distract you from your task, Day?”

“Don’t worry, Kirr-Kirr!” promised Day, who secretly had to admit that his focus from the road was wavering as he tried to sing along to the songs, but he wasn’t sure if he could stand the silence, again.  “I’ll try to stay alert!”

Nine was struck with an idea.  “Mr. Day, you have been asking to hear my personal compositions for a long time.  Would you like to listen to one now?  The classical music will help fill the long silence ahead of us but will allow you to keep your focus.”

Day beamed at the compromise.  “Yay!  We get to listen to Nine-Nine’s music!”

“Yes, play it, Brother Nine!  It is always good to listen to the music of a fellow warrior!” said Aitachi, as Nine opened his own Otherworldify account and began to play an instrumental soft piano melody.  

The group listened for a few moments before Kirr reached forward to lightly press a hand on Nine’s shoulder.  His eyes gleamed with praise as he said, “You have true talent, Nine.”

“Yeah, Nine-Nine is the best!” agreed Day, as he felt calm overcome him with the music.

“Brother Nine is a prodigy!” Aitachi said.

Nine smiled softly at the encouragement as he closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat as he, along with the rest of the Night Team, listened to the masterful notes of the first movement of Beethoven’s Piano Sonata Number 14.

While he loved Noctu dearly, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to show his fellow members his own personal compositions.

Yet.

Hour 2

As it turned out, the car that the 14th Department had given them was a gas guzzler, and at the beginning of the final hour of Day’s shift, Nine had the wits to peep at the fuel gauge—as the driver forgot to—and noticed that they were in dire need of gas, ASAP.

“It looks like we’ll need to refuel,” Nine announced.

Kirr immediately reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a short rope of jerky, handing it to him.

Nine shook his head.  “Not that kind of fuel, Mr. Kirr,” he said.  He took out his phone and searched for the nearest gas station.  “I meant fuel for the car.”

“It can share our jerky if it wants!” assured Aitachi, looking confused.  He wished he had remembered to bring carrots or hay, as that was the kind of food he had fed his horse, Tata, in the past, and he assumed this “car” would be more than obliged to consume the same fare, as well.

“I think Nine-Nine means gasoline,” Day said.  “That’s what gives cars their energy.”

Kirr grimaced.  “I’m afraid Aitachi and I failed to bring that kind of food.”  He lowered his head.  “We take full responsibility.”

As Aitachi bowed in tandem, Nine’s eyes widened when they both reached for their weapons.  “Mr. Kirr, Aitachi, it’s not your fault, truly.”  He gestured for them to lower their bows and knives, worrying that it was some kind of custom of both the Cicady and Atiyah tribes to self-mutilate as penance for an offense.  “Don’t hurt yourselves, please.”

“Hurt ourselves?  No, Brother Nine—Brother Kirr and I were only going to go hunt food for the car, as we didn’t think to bring any 'gasoline' for it!” said Aitachi.

Nine couldn’t hold back his laugh at the pair’s earnestness.  “There’s no need.  If Mr. Day will take a left here,” he nodded at the driver, who took an uncoordinated turn as instructed, “we’ll arrive at a station  where we can fill up our car with gas ad libitum, provided we have the money.”

“Which we do!”  Day pat his pockets in satisfaction, but upon remembering that he no longer was a wealthy human being, but rather a penniless Soul Reaper, he turned to Nine and blushed.  “Hehe, or I think Nine-Nine does.”

As the car rolled into the gas station, Nine smiled.  “That I do, Mr. Day.”

Hour 3

“Night Team, will you be with me as I wage war on Mane?” asked Aitachi abruptly as he rummaged through his messenger bag, his face a shade of red that matched the beads in his hair.  

Nine looked at the youngest of the group through the rearview mirror in concern, as Kirr instantly answered, “We will battle your enemies together, Aitachi.”  Nine was driving now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t the main (read: sole) disciplinarian and voice of reason of his team. “Did something happen?”

“Yes, something did happen, Brother Nine!”  Aitachi pouted.  “It is a most grievous insult!”  He pulled out from his bag an enormous straw sunhat.  Around it was a sky-blue ribbon with the words “Aitachi: Cutest Warrior Ever!” embroidered on it.  

Day turned from his seat in the front to survey the commotion.  “Tachi-Tachi, that’s so cute!”

“That Mr. Licht snuck it into my bag, I’m sure!”  Aitachi shook the large headgear effusively.  “He's the only one who would do such a thing!”

Kirr nodded.  “We must seek the restitution of Aitachi’s honor against the Morning Team for this affront.”  

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea …” mumbled Day, who loathed conflict of any kind.  “Brother Licht will just apologize if you ask him.”

“Mr. Day is right,” said Nine.  “No waging war of any kind, okay?”  He strained his ears to hear the muted mutters of assent from Aitachi and Kirr.  “I said, okay?”  He nodded when the pair agreed louder this time.  “Good.”  

He looked at the clock, wondering how far the other teams were ahead of them.  Surely no one must’ve reached the Purification Plains yet, else the Manager would’ve made a post (or the team itself) on SNS.  He peered in the rearview mirror to see Aitachi unwinding the straw of his new hat in frustration.  “How about in order to avenge Aitachi, we do it by beating all the other teams—including Mane—to the retreat?”

Aitachi brightened at the prospect.  “What a good idea!”  He raised a fist determinedly.  “Death to the Morning Team!  Drive as fast as you can, Brother Nine!”

“Yay!  Let’s win this race, everyone!” cheered Day.  

Kirr bobbed his head.  “To the winners go the spoils.”

Nine grinned as he pressed his foot down on the gas pedal.  It was nice to see the Night Team come together like this, and for once, despite their extremely late start, Nine believed that they had a chance of winning.

Hour 5

First a nervous smile.

And then a frown.

Another nervous smile.

Another frown.

And then … something that resembled a mixture of both?

These were the expressions that consecutively passed on Day’s face in the two minutes that Nine had watched him out of the corner of his eye.

“Is something the matter, Mr. Day?” he finally had to ask.

Day stuttered, “I—um, no!”

“Brother Day, do not feel as if you need to hide your feelings from us!” said Aitachi.  “We are all warriors of equal caliber and can speak freely to one another.”

Kirr echoed the thought by saying, “Aitachi is right.  There are no secrets between us.”

Day’s face absolutely melted at the kind words.  “It’s just that,” he blubbered, “I really have to go to the bathroom and I know we’re on a tight schedule now and I don’t want to be a bother, and, and, and—”

“Mr. Day, there is no shame in needing to relieve yourself.”  Nine looked out the window and saw that a rest stop was coming up.  “We could all use a break, and look over there—there’s a resting place ahead, so we won’t even have to go out of our way.”

“Th—thanks for saying that, Nine-Nine,” sniffled Day, rubbing his watery eyes, as he pulled the car into the shelter that Nine had pointed out.

As soon as the vehicle came to a sudden stop (à la Day’s masterful parking skills), the party mosied out of the confining space of the car and into the open expanse of the rest stop.

Day sprinted to the bathroom shelter upon their arrival and Kirr began to stretch his muscles, much to the excitement of the flock of girls who stared nearby.

Nine followed Aitachi, who had smelled water and had grabbed Licht’s hat with every intention of throwing it into whatever body of water larger than a puddle that appeared.  

The younger boy saw Nine shadowing him and, as he came upon the lake which he had sensed, turned to the older Reaper and said quietly, “Brother Nine, you probably think I am being wasteful by casting such a finely-crafted piece of apparel away.”  He sighed and held the hat over the water.  “But I am a warrior and worked hard to be recognized as one in my tribe—it's disheartening to know that many in the 14th Department don’t see me as one simply because of my appearance.”

Nine shook his head.  “I don’t think that way at all.”  He himself loathed his own beauty and the other Reapers’ constant mention of it.  In that moment, he felt a kind of kinship with Aitachi, for they both hated what they saw in the mirror.  He pulled the younger Soul Reaper closer to the lake until they both could see their reflections in it.  “You are more than your appearance, Aitachi.  Us on the Night Team know that, but if the Reapers on the other teams need a reminder, we will make sure they get one.”

With that, he guided Aitachi’s hands farther above the water and gestured for him to let the hat go.  They both released a cathartic sigh as the ripples in the wake of its tumble down to the depths of the lake marred their reflections in the water.

Hour 6

“Is that the Evening Team?” asked Kirr as Day’s haphazard driving sped them past a field of fruit trees.  He was sure that his keen eyes had spotted Noah, Sian, Kati, and Cyrille lounging under several boughs, each munching lazily on an armful of apples.  

He watched—mildly amused—that upon noticing that the car that blazed past them was indeed of 14th Department and belonged to the Night Team (whose car had a vanity license plate that read “NOCTU”), no less, Hesperide dropped all the fruit they had been eating and looked at the passing faces of Day and Aitachi—who were sitting in the seats by the windows facing them—in shock.  

Nine smiled.  “That is the Evening Team.  And if I’m remembering correctly, they were the first  to leave?”  

“Yep, yep!” said Day.  “I remember because Little One was in a mood and told me to go away because I offered to get a suitcase that was too high for him to reach!  He told me my height wouldn’t matter in the end because Hesperide was going to leave first, and by Brother Cyrille’s calculations, that means they would get there first, too!”

Aitachi clapped his hands eagerly.  “They must have thought that their leaving early meant they could take long breaks.  A true warrior knows never to be so unguarded!”

“It looks like they’re already on our tails, nevertheless,” observed Kirr, who was still peering behind them at the Evening Team.  “They are fast like rabbits.”

“They’re already in their car?” asked Nine wearily.  Hadn’t they just seen them maybe two minutes ago?  Could they already be following them on the road?  He peeked into the rearview mirror in confusion.  There were no cars behind them for several yards—just how good was Kirr’s eyesight?

Kirr squinted, but he could still definitely make out Sian’s pink hair and Kati’s angry fist at least one mile behind them.  “They have not mounted their vehicle, yet.  They’re putting all their apples into some kind of compartment in the rear.”  As a hunter, he could gauge the distance and time it would take for them to catch up to the Night Team car in an instant.  “I have an idea.”

“What is it, Brother Kirr?” Aitachi asked eagerly.

Kirr looked at his companions.  “Let us set a trap for Hesperide to throw them off their course—and any other team that follows this path.”

“That is,” said Nine, “an excellent idea, Mr. Kirr.  Do you have any plans on what to do?”

“Normally I would suggest setting several snares to capture our prey, but as I believe Manager would be angry if the Evening Team was killed, I advise we set up a distraction that the other teams cannot refuse.”  He peered ahead with his sharp eyes and discerned a road marker that read:

Route 14 — Keep Right

Route 24 — Straight Ahead

If he was remembering the extremely long lectures Nine had given the group regarding the many winding roads of the Otherworld and how keeping on Route 14 would lead them straight to the Purification Plains, going on a different route would surely set one astray.  “Perhaps we should change the directions on that sign up ahead.” 

“Waaaaah, Kirr-Kirr, I don’t see any signs!” complained Day as he and the rest of the Night Team failed to see ahead what was so clear to the eagle-eyed hunter.  

“There is one,” he assured them.  “If Day were to move this vehicle with great speed, then we would be able to make it to the sign two minutes before the Evening Team.  In that time, we must rewrite the directions on it.  At present, it reads, ‘Route Fourteen, keep right, and Route Twenty-Four, straight ahead.”

“We will write ‘Route Fourteen, straight ahead, and Route Twenty-Four, keep right’ instead, then!” realized Aitachi.  Out from his messenger bag, he pulled several sticks of colored wax and lumps of coal, which he sometimes used to color pictures with—even though he insisted they were for the purpose of marking trees so one wouldn’t get lost in the woods.  “We can use these to rewrite the sign.”

And so that’s what they did.

Kirr’s estimation in how much time they would have to alter the road sign was correct, and the short time span caused their work to be rather shoddy, even though Nine’s beautiful calligraphy remedied it a little.

As they drove off, Nine bit his lip and said, “They won’t expect sabotage, so I hope they think that the mistakes in the sign were simply due to an error on the signmaker’s part.”

“‘Sabotage’ doesn’t sound very good, Nine-Nine,” said Day, who looked a tad bit queasy at the prospect.

Nine smiled benignly.  “Surely Manager expects a little healthy competitiveness in this contest.”

Hour 7

“Hm-♪-hm-♪, doesn’t everyone else think it’s funny that the only team we’ve seen in the past six hours is Hesperide?” mused Day, tapping absentmindedly at the windowsill.  “If what Little One said about the Evening Team leaving first is true, shouldn’t we have seen all the others in between?”

Aitachi pursed his lips.  “Maybe the other teams also sped past Hesperide when they were grazing, and they didn’t notice and so couldn’t take action?”

“Maybe,” said Nine, whose brow had begun to furrow,  “but I don’t think Noah would be that lax.  Especially since there aren’t that many cars on this road and all of the 14th Department ones have very obvious vanity license plates.”

“Diluculo and Mane up ahead,” announced Kirr, as if on cue.

The other Reapers’ eyebrows shot up.

“Both of the teams?” asked Nine, needing clarification because what were the chances?

Kirr nodded, looking ahead.  “All eight members are outside of their vehicles.”

“I see them, now!” exclaimed Day, whose jaw dropped open at the sight.  “Nine-Nine!  Nine-Nine—slow down!  Let’s see why they’re stopped!”

Nine, who didn’t necessarily want to waste time in oogling at the other teams, obeyed nonetheless and rolled down his window as the Noctu car stopped, with the engine running, in front of the field where the Dawn and Morning Teams were meandering about.

Quincy did not look happy to see them.  “Oh, great—it’s Doggo and his band of Night Team weirdos!”

Ell’s reception was much more welcoming.  “It’s great to see you guys—achoo!”

Day and Aitachi wriggled their way to Nine’s open window and poked their heads outside.

“Hey, everyone!  Why are you all stopped?” asked Day.

Aitachi, who had been surveying the area, pointed to Jamie, who was standing a few feet away with Non-Non, chanting, “Come on, lil’ feller, you can do it!” 

“I think, Brother Day, that Mr. Jamie is trying to get Non-Non to relieve himself!” 

“You brought Non-Non with you?” asked Nine incredulously.

Ell blushed.  “Mr. Jamie wouldn’t leave without him.”

Kirr also peeked out from Nine’s window.  “I too, would not leave without Non-Non if I were him.”  The tone he said this was so menacing that even Non-Non could feel a shiver down his spine.  

“Waaaaah, so that solves Mane, but what about you guys, Diluculo!”  Day looked a yard in front of him where Verine was pacing with some kind of inhaler at his nose.  “Oh no, is Bambi sick?”

“The Whelp is always sick, Doggo,” spat Quincy.  “And if he doesn’t get out of the car every hour for thirty minutes to get his stupid fresh air, then he gets even sicker!”

Youssef cleared his throat apologetically.  “What Quincy is trying to say is that Verine can’t stay cooped up in the car for very long so we’ve had to take a lot of breaks.  It’s only by chance that we met the Morning Team here.”

“If you’ve needed to make so many stops, how come you’re already only an hour away from the Purification Plains?” Nine had to ask.

The eldest Soul Reaper flushed and looked away.  “Mori … may have found that even though Route Fifteen doesn’t lead to the retreat location, it does merge into Route Fourteen quite aways down and in that span, manages to complete the same distance in only half the time.”

“Yeah, but Route Fifteen is shady as hell, so because of him,” Quincy whirled around to point a finger at Mori, who looked unperturbed at the accusation, “we almost got robbed seventeen times when we were taking the Whelp on his walks!”  He kicked the ground.  “And it doesn’t help that the dumb Morning Team decided to stop exactly where we did!”

“Speaking of the Morning Team,” Aitachi said, curling his fists angrily.  “Where are Mr. Licht and Mr. Ghilley?  I have many things I want to say to Mr. Licht for giving me that demeaning hat!”

“They’re both in the car, I think,” admitted Ell.  “And I’m sorry about Mr. Licht—he means well—achoo!”

Nine realized that unlike Diluculo, who had come through a different path, Mane must have stayed on Route Fourteen, and considering that they were ahead of Hesperide, must have found a way to avoid the Evening Team’s detection when they rested in the fruit trees.

“How were you able to get past Hesperide?” asked Nine.  “Surely if you went past them, they would have seen your car and drove ahead.”

Jamie, who was still trying to coax Non-Non into taking a bathroom break, called over, “Aw, Ghilley said that we should cover our license plates to confuse y’all.”

“Waaaaaaaah, isn’t that illegal?” asked Day, who didn’t realize that his team had no right to question Mane’s actions, as they themselves had done some unsavory things in order to win.

Ell’s blush deepened.  “O—oh, is it?  We had no idea—achoo!  Achoo!”

“While it is entertaining to hear of your exploits,” cut in Kirr, though not unkindly, “we of the Night Team must get moving, for we still have an hour yet to travel.”

Aitachi nodded.  “Brother Kirr is right!  We wish Diluculo the best of luck!”  He pointedly left out wishing well to Mane because dishonor!

“Bye-bye!” chirped Day, as Nine bade farewell to the other two teams and rolled the window back up.  

“That means the only team we have yet to meet is Die,” concluded Nine as they continued their drive down Route Fourteen.  

Day gulped.  “And scary King Ethan is on that team!”

“Brother Day, do not be afraid of Mr. Ethan!  We will most certainly beat him and the rest of Die!” assured Aitachi, although, he, along with the rest of the Night Team, could hardly fathom a scenario where the pretentious, but diligent Soul Reaper didn’t demand an absolute victory from his team.

Hour 8

“We’re almost there!” sang Day.  While he was busy playing Pictionary with Aitachi in the fog that formed from his breath on the window, he had still been keeping track of the time that had passed.

“And we’ve still seen no sign of the intrepid Day Team,” Kirr said.

Aitachi looked away from his and Day’s game to nervously offer, “What if they’re already at the Plains?”

“They can’t be,” affirmed Nine, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.  He was not going to give up a month free from cleaning shifts to someone as snobby as Ethan.

Kirr looked calm as he said, “Do not worry, Aitachi.  The members of Team Die are sneaky, but fast and strong, like foxes—and you remember how much fun we had the last time we hunted foxes.”

“Kirr-Kirr and Tachi-Tachi hunted foxes?  That’s so cool!”  Day exclaimed.  “Next time, take me too, please!”  He looked ahead and brightened.  “Hey, hey, that sign says ‘Welcome to the Purification Plains!’”

Suddenly, they heard an engine revving behind them and everyone besides Nine, who was driving, whirled around to see who the new car was.

Aitachi’s jaw dropped.  “Is that the Day Team?”  

The license plate on the front of the car proved it plainly, for it indeed, had “DIE” written on it, and the words were becoming clearer and clearer as the vehicle whizzed toward them at speeds that none of the decrepit 14th Department cars could even dream of moving at.  

Nine made the connection when he saw the plume of smoke and flames that the Day Team car left in its wake.  “Mr. June’s using his fireballs and blowing through all their fuel at once to move the car as fast as possible!”

“They were tailing us—” realized Kirr, running a hand through his hair in desperation, “waiting for the right moment in which to launch their true speed!  How could I have been so foolish as to not see this coming?  Ethan is a crafty foe, indeed.”

Aitachi tried to keep the panic out of his voice to console his friend by saying, “Do not think it your fault, Brother Kirr.  I’m sure Mr. Ethan purposely kept his car far enough that you couldn’t see what he was doing, but so that he could see us.”

“He probably saw us switch the signs on Hesperide, too,” recognized Nine.  However, he couldn’t dwell on that now, as the Day Team’s car was now right up next to them and was speeding past.  

Suddenly, Day was struck with an idea as he watched the golden smoke that depicted June’s handiwork from the tailpipe of Die's car.  “I have an idea!”

“Say it, Brother Day!  We’ll take anything!” exclaimed Aitachi, watching Die race closer and closer to the entrance to the Purification Plains.  

Day nodded.  “Let’s all draw our weapons and throw them at the car’s wheels on my count!”

Aitachi and Kirr bobbed their heads in agreement, but Nine stared at Day carefully.  “Are you sure about this, Mr. Day?  This is rather underhanded for you.”

“I’ll do anything to protect Tachi-Tachi’s honor,” assured Day, with not even a slight waver in his voice.  He drew his weapon and signaled for the others to do the same.  “On my mark, ready … set … go!”  He exclaimed the last syllable when he saw that the Day Team was fifteen feet in front of the entrance.

All of Noctu rolled down their windows and released their weapons at the word and every one of them hit true on the mark of one of the other car’s wheels.  As the Day Team’s tires blew out, the Night Team’s car sped past Ethan’s enraged face, but they had gotten no more than five feet before one of their own tires popped.

“Oh, no, King Ethan retaliated!” cried Day, referring to the lone sword that had pierced their car’s wheels.

However, Ethan’s sword did not have the slowing effect that he had intended, for as soon as Kirr and Aitachi felt the tell-tale loosening of pressure from one of their tires, their instincts and fleetfootedness, honed from years of hunting nimble hares and deer in the forest, took over, and they kicked open the car doors.  Before anyone could blink, the pair raced toward the Purification Plains’ entrance. 

“Come, Mr. Day, let’s follow them,” ushered Nine the instant the two sprinted out, offering his hand to the tall Soul Reaper.    

Day took it and grinned.  “Aye-aye, Nine!”

Ethan, along with the rest of Die, arrived at the entrance just as the last two members of Noctu did.  

“We did it!” cheered Day, huddling all the members of the Night Team into a group hug.  “We won!”  

“You didn’t win,” began Ethan, his eye twitching in irritation.  “You can’t win if your vehicle didn’t cross the entry point.”  He grit his teeth.  “Now since neither of ours can make it across, the winners will either be Mane, Hesperide, or Diluculo.”

“That’s not necessarily the case,” said the Manager, who seemed to materialize from out of nowhere.  She beamed at the two teams.  “The rules were that whichever team arrives at the Purification Plains first would win.  And since Kirr and Aitachi are both of the Night Team, Noctu wins!”

Ethan’s frown—which had momentarily disappeared at the sight of the Manager—deepened.  “But ma’am—they played unfairly.”

The Manager bit her lips.  “Technically, Sei Housemaster, Nyang Lead Manager, and I never said that there were parameters on what you could and couldn’t do to win, so while I don’t condone their actions—and yours, too, Ethan, I saw you throw your sword at their tire, as well—I think in terms of this competition, it’s okay.”  She turned to look sternly at the members of the Night Team.  “But I expect you four to pay for the damages you caused to the Day Team’s car.”  She cleared her throat.  “And to the sign.”

Day’s eyes widened.  “You know about that, Manager?”

The Manager only laughed and took out from her pocket four pink slips of paper and handed them to the members of Noctu.  “I award these coupons, which serve as passes from cleaning shifts for one month, to the Night Team!”

The group of four held their tickets up to the sky and cheered, and Nine had to admit, although his motivation for this road trip initially had been for these passes alone, he now considered them just a sweet, sweet bonus for the time he had spent bonding with his teammates.  

And on their drive home after the 14th Department Annual Retreat, he scrounged up his courage and poised a finger on the “play” button on the car speaker to share with the rest of Noctu his most prized, secret music composition.

He had hesitated before to show this part of himself.

But after this trip, he was finally ready.

[hargrove-mayfields]

A Stake of Holly in Her Heart Pt. 6

Pt. 1   Pt. 2   Pt. 3   Pt. 4   Pt. 5    

Back inside the house for the night, Max avoids her nightly routine, going straight to her room to hopefully avoid any punishment until the morning comes.

There’s something she really needs to do, so she waits and waits, watching the minutes tick by on her digital clock until the house quiets down and she can be sure Susan and Neil are asleep.

She perches on the end of her bed and just listens for the TV to shut off in the living room, for her mother to pad up the steps toward her room in her fuzzy slippers, and for every light switch in the house to click off. Once she’s sat in complete silence, she presses her ear to the door so she can decide if she’s in the clear.

There’s a writing desk in Billy’s room, along with the last of his furniture they haven’t put out to the curb yet, put there because, well, he wouldn’t be using the room anymore, and Susan thought the space should be utilized instead of just being a memoir to a dead boy, so it became an office of sorts. And that was where Max needed to be right now.

Making as little noise as possible, she tiptoes from room to room, gently shutting each door behind herself, her heart stopping when the lock clicks into place.

Before she takes another step into the room, she listens for a floorboard to creak, or a voice to shout at her to go back to sleep, but there’s nothing but the sound of thick snow gently hitting against the window pane.

The lamp clicks on on the desk so she can see what she’s doing as she carefully fishes through the drawers of the bureau until she’s found a sheet of paper, the only one she could reach without making too much noise is printed with a border of holly branches, a red ballpoint pen, an envelope, and a stamp.

Max sets it all out in front of herself and thinks long and hard. What she’s about to do leaves no room for making mistakes, because she’s going to write a response to Maria.

It takes a lot of workshopping, cutting out bits of information she would rather share in person and trying to make it as blunt as possible, but eventually she decides on this,

“Dear Ms. Hargrove,

I’m not sure if Billy ever told you about me, but I’m his stepsister, Max.

I got your card in the mail Christmas morning, and I’m sorry to tell you, but he didn’t get to read it.

Your son Billy died on the 4th of July.

Please, if you get this letter, come and see him. He’s in the cemetery on 101 Cedar Street, Hawkins, IN, plot 206 B under the ginkgo tree.

I’m sorry, Maxine Mayfield”

Max folds the paper as neatly as she can manage and seals it into the envelope, copying Maria’s address from the first letter onto the outside, and sticking the little stamp, a picture of a Christmas tree, to the corner.

Putting everything back and pulling the chain on the lamp, it’s like she was never even there.

But she must’ve gotten careless, must’ve been too caught up in the moment to remember to listen for footfalls because, when she opens the door again, she’s face to face with a disgruntled Susan.

Arms behind her back, Max slowly slides the envelope into her pocket before her mother can see it. “What are you doing in here?”

“I-I was just, uh, thinking about Billy again.” She lies through her teeth, bringing her arms up to hold the door frame so Susan wouldn’t notice she had something hidden behind her back. “Wanted to be in here for a while, I guess.”

Susan frowns and rubs her eyes. “You know you’re not supposed to be up this late.”

“Yeah, I know, I just, couldn’t sleep.” She shrugs and offers a tired smile, hoping that’ll help her case.

“Well next time, just try to stay in bed.” Susan’s tired, a little tipsy, and generally unhappy with Max, and it shows in her tone, but she’s too tired for reprimanding, so she makes an attempt at advice, saying, “It doesn’t do you any good to dwell on it.”

“Won’t happen again.” The answer must be acceptable because, shaking her head at her daughter, Susan finally retreats. For extra points, Max calls after her, “Goodnight, mom.”

Max stands in the doorway waiting for Susan to start climbing the steps again, then, once she’s absolutely positive her mother’s no longer paying her any mind, she returns to her own bedroom.

The envelope finds itself in a hiding place under her mattress until she can mail it in the morning, just in case of snooping parents, and for the first time in a long while, Max gets a good night's sleep, the events of that day easing her off to dream.

It’s the feeling of hope, of having found a friend and having done the right thing that sends her off into a restful sleep like she hasn’t had in forever, her guilt no longer plaguing her in reality or in dreamland, and her grief soothed.

By sunrise the next day, she’s already up on her feet, dressed and ready to go before her parents are even awake.

She leaves a note taped to the refrigerator door explaining her absence, lying about going to help Mrs. Byers with something she had mentioned at last night’s party, and hurries out the door, letter in her pocket, before anyone can stop her.

But, as the hinges on the front door squeak, she steps out onto the front porch, hearing Neil’s gruff voice behind her before she can close it. “Where’re you going?”

“Mrs Byers. She, um, w-wanted me to come over and help El with uh, packing.” It sounded great on paper, but out loud it sounds exactly like a lie if she’s ever heard one. Neil doesn’t look upset though, so she decides to keep going. “They leave for Chicago soon.”

Neil nods, a look of complete disinterest on his face, and says “Tell her she can keep you if she wants to keep having you over there all the damn time.”

Then he turns away grumbling, and slams and locks the door in his step-daughters face.

Her first winter around snow and ice, something that never lasted long enough back in Cali to be a problem, she’d learned the hard way that her board didn’t work so well on the salt covered sidewalks, so she has to get to the post office without wheels.

She realizes though, that the walking route, unless she wanted to add an extra half hour or so to the trip, meant going right past the Sinclair’s house. Halfway down the sidewalk, when she sees Lucas' little sister outside, she knows that, after the luck she’s been having, she’s not getting off easy.

Erica is all bundled up in layers of coats and sweatpants, sitting in a pile of snow in the front yard, and rolling out a collection of very tightly packed snowballs when she looks up and meets Max’s eyes. Turning her head back towards the window, Erica shouts to her brother, “Hey nerd, your girlfriend is here!”

Before Max can even correct her or try to explain to her that she was just passing through the neighborhood and it was no big deal, the front door is being yanked open, and Lucas comes skidding down the sidewalk towards her.

He’s out of breath when he gets to her on the sidewalk, having run from somewhere in his house, and his voice is laden with concern. “Max! Where were you?”

“I was just busy. My parents said I couldn’t come.” She explains.

“We assumed the worst when you and Steve didn’t show.” He's bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Why weren’t you on the line all night?”

Max shrugs, “Like I said, busy.”

He eyes her suspiciously, obviously trying to find some secret meaning to her words. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, they just took me out for Christmas dinner.” She appreciates the concern, she really does, but she gives him a look anyhow. “You know not everything has to be the end of the world, right?”

“Yeah, right, ‘course.” He agrees, still sounding unsure, then doubles back on it. “You’re positive you’re alright?”

Giggling at how excessive he is, Max rolls her eyes, though not really out of annoyance, and affirms, “Yes, Lucas.”

“Okay.” There’s still more he wants to ask about yesterday, she can tell, but he gives it up, choosing instead to ask, “Where are you headed, then?”

“The post office. I have a thank you card for my grandma I'm supposed to send.” She lies again, but it doesn’t feel the same as when she lied to Neil and Susan or Aunt Nicole, where she was trying to hide how she felt, trying to be someone she wasn’t. This is more like she’s just trying to protect her personal life, and she thinks that’s fair enough.

Lucas flashes her his most charming smile. “Mind if I join you?”

There’s no way she’s going to actually turn down the offer, but she pretends, turning her nose up and saying, “I don’t know. Don’t think I really want you slowing me down.”

“You just don’t want all of this,” Lucas motions to himself with a goofy grin, “to make you look bad.”

She puts a mock sympathetic hand on his shoulder, and says, “Keep telling yourself that, dweeb.” but there’s a wide smile on her face as she says it, even after Erica tells them to get a room and throws a handful of her snowballs at them.

The rest of the walk into town is only a few minutes from that point if they take the shortcut behind the neighborhood, so Max isn’t all that worried about Lucas tagging along.

Mostly though, it’s because, unless he miraculously overcame his hangover and decided to search the treeline with a pair of binoculars, there was pretty much no way Neil was going to see them together, and they were out early enough that any of the nib-nose neighbors who might’ve snitched on them weren’t even awake yet.

Besides, even if Neil was one hundred percent guaranteed to catch her, she feels in a good enough mood that she doesn’t know that she’d care.

Outside of the post office, as she opens the mail slot and lets the letter fall into the collection box, she can tell Lucas catches a glimpse of the name on the envelope just by the sudden frown on his face, the worry in his eyes as he looks over to again her.

But Max, she isn’t bothered by it. She’ll tell him later what’s going on with her and Maria, once the whole thing is over. She thinks she owes it to herself to be a little more abrasive, to not just let everyone in on every last detail of her life so they can make her decisions for her.

So she doesn’t bring it up, just smiles at him and takes his hand, and lets him walk her back home.

After that morning she checks the mailbox constantly to make sure nobody else would find any letters from Maria before she did. Lord only knows what Neil would do if he found out she’d been in contact with his ex-wife.

Day one, all she finds is an issue of the beauty magazine Susan has a subscribed to, a notice for a late water bill, and a day old Christmas card from Uncle Don down in Texas.

The next day is more disappointing, nothing inside the mailbox but spam and a grocery store catalog.

There’s no mail service on Sundays, so she spends the whole of the third day fretting, wondering if her letter her made it, and if she should try to send another.

On the fourth day, there’s finally a letter in the mailbox addressed to Maxine Mayfield. Her heart stutters as she slides the stark white envelope out and gently tears it open.

It simply reads,

“To Billy’s sister, I’m on my way.”

Read also on ao3!

[etlunainmorte]

"Oh, my!"

V's eyes widened and his protective instincts kicked in as he saw Lady just bump into you. On the other hand, you didn't even notice it when the woman who looked like Audrey Hepburn suddenly, and out of the blue, appeared just like that, and you totally blamed it on your lack of focus.

"Oh, how silly of me!" Lady apologized with a smile as she helped you on your feet.

"It's alright. I wasn't paying attention. I - "

"Jive." Lady whispered to you the moment she leaned in closer to your ear.

"Sorry?"

"That's the next dance." Lady went on, surveying the whole room at the same time with her sharp eyes. Probably on the lookout for her sly partner, as well. But, this only proved she's even more sly than Lancaster, himself. "And Fleminger is absolutely fond of Jive. So, make it count."

"Why are you doing this? Aren't we supposed to be enemies?"

"Are we?" Lady answered, and with a wink, she waved goodbye and made her way towards Lancaster, who was currently being pampered by Fleminger's older guests.

So, Jive,... is Fleminger's favorite dance,...

Just like,... !

Wait, was that the reason she - ?

"My dear, are you alright?" You heard V ask you, bringing you back from your own reverie to reality.

Looking up at him with renewed determination and keeping the little facts you've just stitched together for your own ruminations later, you answered, "Yes, I'm,... super!" Drumming your chin with your fingers, you smiled as a wild and very sudden idea just came into your mind. You were one hundred percent sure that your grandmother would faint if she finds out about this plan of yours but, you might as well make this once in a lifetime gamble worth it, right? Looking up once more at your partner, you laid your hand on his arm and said, "I'm just gonna,... fix something."

And to this, you saw how V's eyebrows furrow in utter confusion. "P - pardon? Is everything alright?"

"I'll be right back, I promise." You told him with a reassuring smile.

Slightly running towards the powder room, your eyes quickly surveyed what the other Queen competitors were wearing. And if Lady was, indeed, correct, you assumed that all of them would have a really hard time moving with those voluminous skirts of theirs.

"Ugh. Fleminger, you are such a huge sadist." You thought out loud as you opened the door to the powder room, which was luckily unoccupied, and looked at yourself in the mirror. Giving your precious vintage gown one last look of pity like it was a criminal on the verge of execution, you grabbed the skirt and started tearing it, the sound of ripping fabric piercing your sensitive ears and making you feel sorry for your great grandmother, who previously owned it. With a huge sigh and a spark of inspiration, you, then, reached up to your hair and pulled the pins that kept it secure, letting the (H/C) tresses tumble in waves at your back.

After making sure that the ripped fabric was disposed in the proper place, you gave yourself one last look in the mirror. "Not bad, actually." You told yourself as you made your way back to your partner. Ignoring the wide variety of comments by the guests who saw you, you took a deep breath and exclaimed, "Told you I'll be right back."

V turned around, and his initial expression of relief upon knowing that you're well turned quickly into that of complete shock when his wide green eyes roamed on your loose hair down to your bare legs. You couldn't help but feel sorry for the poet. Almost.

"(Y/N), dear, I don't think that's - !" V stuttered in distress, wanting to blurt out the word inappropriate as gently as he could.

"Trust me, V." You reassured him as you smiled confidently at him. Yes, you don't quite trust Lady. But, her words earlier,...

There was no way in hell that she would lie to you! No fricking way!

You looked up at the upper boxes and noticed Fleminger excitedly leaning in closer to his seat the moment the musicians picked up their instruments. What's more, you also noticed that his eyes landed on yours.

Taking a deep breath and carelessly brushing a wayward lock off your face, you spread your arms wide with much confidence and waited for V to take the lead.

His heart pounding wildly, a small bead of sweat trickling down his forehead, and his eyes wide with anticipation, V finally realized what you were planning to do. Your important, non - verbal message seemingly received and well - noted by the wise poet, you let V take your hands. With one last nod to your partner as soon as the music began, you left everything to your actual skills, your stamina, and your trust towards him.

Together, you'll see this one dance through.

And one step in, you knew. You both knew. There's still a chance to turn this whole situation around to your favor.

***

🌸 Three Wishes 🌸

***

XIV

***

Wooh!

So, you're still thinking of me,

Just like I know you should.

I cannot give you everything, you know I wish I could.

I'm so high at the moment.

I'm so caught up in this.

Yeah, we're just young, dumb and broke.

But we still got love to give.

Christopher grimaced at the way the audience was seemingly entranced, not by him and his partner, but by something else. Their excitement felt different from before during the first three dances where he simply dominated the rest of the dancers with ease and without so much as a single effort. And when he made one wrong decision to turn away from his beautiful partner and see for himself just what these ignorant people were cheering for now, he realized. He finally realized, and because of that, he lost his balance for the first time that evening.

It was you. And your lover.

Such vibrant moves! Such,... perfectly coordinated steps! Such,... powerful connection! And chemistry!

"What,... in the actual fuck?!" Christopher blurted out when he saw you and V wowing the crowd with your quick Jive kicks and flicks. And what's more,...

Since when was V able to move like that?!

That smile on his face,...

He seemed to enjoy the Jive too much! The way he's giving it his all and showing off his flashy moves at the same time,...

First verse in and you're already giving it your all?! Thought the evil doctor as he turned his attention back to Lady to try and outshine your routine. Are you really that desperate to win against me?!

"We'll see about that!" Christopher screamed as he forced Lady to do the American Spin, making the woman almost stumble to her feet.

I'll win this game! Christopher thought as he sadistically led Lady. The flashier the moves, the better! I'll become King and make you pay for humiliating me!

While we're young, dumb,

Young, young dumb and broke.

Young, dumb.

Young, young, dumb, and broke.

Young, dumb.

Young, young, dumb, and broke.

Young, dumb, broke high school kids.

Yadadadadadadada

Yadadadadadada

Yadadadadadadada

Young, dumb, broke high school kids.

Adelaide threw an infuriated look at the host of this wretched party, who was watching the show from that lofty upper box. And the man seemed to be massively enjoying the show! And at what expense? The women tripping on their skirts as they try to keep up with the brutal pace of the Jive? The men covering up their partners' mistakes by making unnecessary moves?

Her grandchild ripping her skirt and letting her hair loose wildly like that?!

"Ugh!" Adelaide exclaimed in utter disgust as she observed the man. "You never change your ways, Flanagan!"

We have so much in common.

We argue all the time.

You always say I'm wrong, but,

I'm pretty sure I'm right.

What's fun about commitment?

When we have our life to live?

Yeah, we're just young, dumb, and broke.

But we still got love to give.

While we're young, dumb,

Young, young dumb and broke.

Young, dumb.

Young, young, dumb, and broke.

Young, dumb.

Young, young, dumb, and broke.

Young, dumb, broke high school kids.

You felt yourself so energized with that yadada that the women were singing. Their overwhelming energy and eagerness to support their lead singer gave you even more motivation to support your own leader, who was surprisingly very good at this dance!

As he led you to the mooch right after that little hip bump, V couldn't help but be amazed at what you have shown so far. Nico did say that you can dance the Jive but, he never really expected you to be this good, that he almost wondered where you pitched in those extra dance lessons in between your music studies. What's even more, you sure knew how to follow his lead and still look graceful doing it. And that was a vast understatement. 

Seeing you enjoy this wonderful dance with him made him enjoy the entire dance, as well. And as long as you're happy, he's happy.

And that was the only thing he wished for.

For you to be happy.

With him.

As the song came to a close, you made one last effort to make a graceful bow, hoping to still look decent after being sorely beaten by Christopher Lancaster and his stunning partner. Taking hold of V's hand, you looked up at him and gave him that smile of yours that never failed to make him feel warm.

"Thank you, V." You simply told him.

The man smiled back at you but, a bit of confusion was still present in his facial expression. The poor poet honestly thought that he did nothing so special and that he didn’t deserve your gratitude. "It's always a pleasure." He answered regardless.

You two were about to step out of the massive ballroom when you noticed some people cheering wildly despite the dance being over. And this made the others cheer, as well.

But, why?

"Bravo!" A man dressed as a general cheered at the top of his lungs.

"Encore!" A woman, who was dressed as Marie Antoinette, added.

"Elvis!" Some group of young women dressed like the Spice Girls cheered in unison. "ELVIS! KING ELVIS!"

"Elvis?" You muttered in question as your eyes met with V's. "They're cheering for you!”

"I don't understand." V answered, his eyebrows knitted, too many questions going on in his mind. "We barely did anything,... "

"MY QUEEN!" Another man, who was dressed as an Italian painter, called. "MY QUEEN!" And his attention was totally directed at you. Not at Lady, not at Trish. You.

"QUEEN!" Some of the men started cheering, as well.

"QUEEN! QUEEN! QUEEN!"

"They were calling for you!" Trish, who was standing next to you, happily told you, shaking you a bit to keep you focused.

Dante, who was only ever so proud of V, patted the poet on the shoulder ( a bit too much ), and beamed at him. "The floor is yours, Mr. Poetry!"

"IMPOSSIBLE!" Christopher, who was watching the incredible scene unfold right before his very own eyes, murmured, unable to believe that you and V just stole his thunder right under his nose with just a simple dance.

HOW CAN THIS BE?!

"It looks like we have a winner." Fleminger declared as he gestured for his musicians to do the much requested encore. The leader nodded and gestured for the singers to have another go at it. And when that Jive music started playing once more, the other couples left the ball room to make room for you and V, all of them acknowledging your clear and clean victory.

Well, except Christopher, of course.

"Hey," The evil doctor called after Lady when he saw her going towards Dante and Trish. "HEY! WE'RE NOT DONE YET!"

"Are we?" Lady responded with much sass as she finally left her partner to cling onto Dante instead.

"Hey, babe!" The tall Devil Hunter, who was only too grateful to have two beautiful women by his side, greeted with much gusto. "Looking sharp as always!"

"Leaving your partner so soon?" Trish teased, an evil smirk fully and intentionally directed at Lady.

And to this, Lady just giggled and waved her hand. "That man needs a babysitter, not a partner. He's just too old to be grumbling like that. Besides, I’m done collecting his handsome payment for being his partner for the evening.”

"Whatever you say,..."

"May I have the honor of this dance, my lady?" V asked you with a proud smile as he held out his hand to you.

"It would be such an honor." You answered happily and graciously as you took his hand.

My name is Olly, nice to meet you can I tell you, baby?

Look around there's a whole lot of pretty ladies.

But not like you, you shine so bright, yeah.

I was wondering if you and me could spend a minute?

On the floor up and close getting lost in it?

I won't give up without a fight.

I just wanna, oh baby!

I just want you to dance with me tonight!

So come on, oh baby!

I just want you to dance with me tonight!

We're getting sweaty, hot and heavy in the crowd now.

Loosen up and let you hands go down, down.

Go with it girl, yeah just close your eyes, yeah!

I feel the music moving through your body.

Looking at you I can tell you want me.

Don't stop keep moving till the morning light, yeah!

When I saw you there,

Sitting all alone in the dark,

Acting like you didn't have a care.

I knew right then, you'd be mine.

We'd be dancing the whole damn night, like,

Oh baby, I just want you to dance with me tonight!

So come on, oh baby!

I just want you to dance with me tonight!

How can two people have so much fun dancing so energetically together like this? How can these two not mind the fatigue and stress of this crowded and heated place? How can these two lovers have all the fun in the world as if no one else existed but them?

You would never know the answer.

All you knew was that you were here with the person who made you smile. The only person who healed your broken heart.

The one and only man who made you so happy like this that you forgot all of your troubles.

And you wanted to be happy with him, not only during these mooches, these flicks and kicks, these American spins, or these simple chasses.

You wanted to be happy with him, and only him, even after this Jive.

You wanted to be happy with V. Always.

And not only you. Nico and Nero, who apparently just returned during your encore performance, were both cheering for you. As well as your stubborn but loving grandmother, who was honestly sticking out like sore thumb among the well - dressed crowd with her non - vintage attire comprised of a bright purple coat, a bright pink beret, and a pair of little blue pumps. Oh, yes, she looked so proud, and she should be! After all, she spent a huge amount of time zealously and passionately teaching you the Jive in between your piano lessons when you were just a little girl. And you kind of just figured out why after all those years of harsh, grueling footwork training!

You were on your way to your loved ones after the music changed to disco for everyone to join in when Christopher, who just appeared out of nowhere, grabbed your arm and forced you to face him.

"What did you do?" The evil doctor questioned, positively fuming with anger after being humiliated. "You,... FUCKING BITCH! WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!"

Finally having enough of Christopher's bullying and abuse, V raised his hand in an almost blind rage, ready to snap his fingers and bring chaos down unto his sorry ass when Nico interrupted by grabbing his arm.

"Ah, ah, ah! Ya haven't met our friend, yet!" Nico warned as she gave V a threatening look and forced his arm down. Gesturing for Nero to come forward, all of you watched, in utter shock and horror, as the young Devil Hunter dragged a shady looking man forward, making Christopher's veins pop up from his already red forehead.

"Who is this man?" You questioned as you uncomfortably watched Nero manhandle the poor, Kevin Bacon -  wannabe guy.

"His name is Salvador!" Nero answered with a vicious smile as he crushed the man with his muscular hug, seemingly hurting him more than introducing him. "I believe he is a friend of Dr. Lancaster here."

"Is,... that so?" V asked, his eyes dangerously narrowed and his patience already snapping like a twig.

"Yeah." Nico replied. "And check this out!" She exclaimed excitedly, taking out Sparda's ripped set of vintage clothing from her backpack. "He has this all along!"

"What's the meaning of all this?" You questioned, alarmed after seeing V's infuriated face as he glanced at the fabric in Nico's hands.

"BOSS, TELL THEM THE TRUTH!" Salvador pleaded, visibly suffering from Nero's painful hold. "TELL THEM!"

"I - I,... DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT - !" Christopher yelled, feeling hopelessly cornered, as he tried to get away from you once and for all. Unfortunately for him, Dante, who sensed all this unease and left the dancefloor for a while to come to your rescue, was already standing behind him, and the moment he turned away, he bumped against the Legendary Devil Hunter's rock hard chest, making him stumble on the ground ungracefully.

"Hey, is there something wrong here?" Dante asked good - naturedly, trying not to escalate the situation to prevent it from getting worse.

"He stole father's things." V answered monotonously, his enraged eyes still on Christopher. "And made an enemy of Sparda by tormenting (Y/N)."

"Ah, is that so?!" Dante, whose eyebrows began twitching the moment he heard the word torment, said as he began cracking his knuckles, the sound of his popping joints frightening poor Lancaster and Salvador beyond their own wits.

"Oh, please, you're being too harsh on the poor man!" You interrupted with a smile, startling everyone, most especially V.

"But, dear, this man hurt you - !" V argued but he was cut off when you helped Christopher on his feet 

"Thank you!" The doctor cried as he graciously took your hands. "Thank you so much, (Y/N)! I' am very much - !"

"FUCK YOU!" The crisp and horrible curse escaped your mouth as you let out a powerful right hook that connected straight to Lancaster's cheek, feeling his head jerk deliciously sideways beneath your hardened fist. The man stumbled on the ground once more, and when he tried to get up, he saw blood on the floor where his face was. He looked at you in fright and scrambled to his feet, making his way outside and finally leaving all of you, hopefully for good.

"BOSS! DON'T LEAVE ME!" Salvador called as he wriggled free from Nero's iron grasp and chased after the defeated doctor.

“That hand,... PRACTICED THE PIANO 40 FREAKING HOURS A DAY!” You screamed at your pathetic, narcissistic ex, and, man, it felt so, so good! "Wow." You breathed a sigh of relief, a proud look on your face. "That was so intense!”

"You betcha!" Nico laughed as she watched the two men scurry their way outside in fright.

"They should think twice before crossing any Sparda next time." Nero added, shrugging his shoulders.

"There won't be a next time! Mark my words.” Dante corrected as he stretched his long arms and made his way back to the dancefloor.

"I shouldn't say this but," V added as he closed the gap between the two of you and linked his fingers with yours. " … I'm so proud of what you've done, (Y/N). And I won't ever regret saying it."

"Haha, thanks."

"And what is going on here, if I may inquire?" You heard Fleminger's voice. Apparently, he has been watching the whole scene unfold right before him in silence. And he didn't look overjoyed.

"Well, I,... " You stuttered, feeling nervous under the host's scrutinizing gaze. "Took care of,... something?"

"Here, man." Nico whispered to V as she handed him something from her backpack.

Fleminger shook his head with an apologetic look on his face. "You must know that,... violence,… is strictly discouraged in these halls of entertainment. And for that, I must disqualify the both of you from winning the title of King and Queen for this evening." Fleminger declared, bringing down the hammer of justice right before you and V. Shaking his head with a distinct frown in his face, he turned around and muttered, "Such a shame."

"Go for it! I'm countin' on ya!" Nico told V as she pushed him closer towards you.

"Is there something wrong, V?" You asked, the sweet victory of winning against Christopher and the bitter sting of being disqualified as Queen still very much fresh in your system.

The man smiled as he shook his head. Then, making one swift decision to trust his gut and finally get this one final plan for the evening over and done with, he took your hand and led you outside, getting past the people who congratulated you, both for dominating the dance floor and for giving that evil doctor a piece of your mind.

***

🌸 I was actually wondering why it's taking me so long to edit this chapter but, then I realized, there's over 4k words in this.😅😅😅 🌸

🌸 @la-vita , @dreaming-gamer , @birdgirl69 , @v-vic , and @hanniskywalker . 🌸

***

That,... bitch! That fucking bitch and her skinny boyfriend who thinks he owns the world!

"You thought you have the last laugh, eh?" Christopher said, and as he was about to reach for that thing in his breast pocket, he felt a strange presence behind him. Looking back, he saw a tall, and ridiculously attractive dark - skinned man who was leaning against a pillar just outside Fleminger's mansion. Unlike the other guests, he was not dressed in his best vintage and he looked like he was only there to crash the party. His dark, gleaming eyes seemed to observe him very, very closely, and it felt like those eyes were piercing through his skull right to the depths of his soul.

"Can I help you?" Christopher asked, suddenly feeling the atmosphere getting heavy right before this stranger's presence.

The man raised his eyebrows. His hands still in the pocket of his grey pants, he nodded and spoke in a very deep, and yet, sweet - like - honey, voice. "Maelstrom."

"Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about - ?!"

"Exactly." The man answered. "I thought I sensed something special here. Alas, I was mistaken." The man left the pillar and turned the other way to leave. But before that, Christopher heard the man mutter something under his breath. "Ah, such a shame. No wonder Bedlam has been so down for decades now, I see. Aha, time to search for someone else,..."

"EXCUSE ME?! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU - ?!"

"Who are you talking to, scum?"

Just then, Christopher heard another voice behind him. But unlike the honeyed voice of the attractive hobo who just left, this one sounded like it was filled with such poison. He turned around and found a tall, white - haired man standing before him. He was staring him down with those cold eyes of his, and his right hand was lurking dangerously close to the hilt of the katana on his left hand.

"What now?!" Christopher howled in agony, feeling as if he was losing his mind completely.

"I believe," The white - haired man drawled, his voice sounding so much like a feral hiss, as he finally unsheathed the Yamato and pointed it at Christopher. " ... you have something that is mine in your possession?"

Wait a second here,...

Tall, ridiculously virile - looking, and white - haired,...

"Another,... SPARDA?!" Christopher helplessly gasped in fright as he felt his bladder fail on him.

Vergil gave him one last sadistic smile as he went closer to the man who almost ruined his brother's evening with you.

"And that's the last time you'll ever say that name." The eldest son of Sparda said as he raised the Yamato,...

***

🌸🌸🌸

***

[angry-slytherin]

Heaven Help Me(Ch 1)

[prompt credits to @imfullofideas thank you!

Prompt: AU. Izzie never got cancer and she and Alex are happily married. Well sort of. Alex is just going through the motions while trying to keep his wife happy. His life is turned upside down when he meets Jo Wilson and realizes she's what he's been missing all along ]

Some background: For story purposes, Jo is/was only 2 years behind Alex and Izzie in residency. Alex and Izzie are second-year attendings and Jo is a fellow. Alex and Izzie got married in their third/fourth(?) year of residency, like in the show. Also, Alex will not cheat on Izzie with Jo, because cheating is gross and adultery is worse. Jo will become a general surgeon(forever bitter she isn’t ortho in canon, but whatevs), as well as Alex being a gen. pediatric surgeon. Izzie is in oncology, but she will also perform surgery. Because despite her big heart, I cannot find anything I genuinely could see her doing as a surgeon; she’s a great doctor though. I just went with the crack canon that 16x16 brought us.

Without further ado, Chapter 1:

•••

It doesn’t take Jo Wilson very long after she moves to Seattle to conclude that the reason the small population of the city is so contrary, is due to the constant rain. Good weather means good moods, and lots of barometric pressure equals a lot of headaches. Which is what Jo has right now. A raging headache.

“Cross, how many times do I have to have these results sent back to the lab? You are a fifth year. Next year you’ll be an attending general surgeon. You will call the shots. If you can’t get simple lab results right, how is anybody supposed to trust you with their life? Get me a white-cell count and glucose levels for my mice, please.”

Cross nods his curly blonde head vigorously.

“Right, sorry Dr. Wilson.” Cross stares at Jo for a moment, before she shoos him.

“I swear the fifth year’s get duddier every year. You could steal another resident for your trial that has half a brain, I’m sure. And mice?” Jo turns around, to see Izzie Stevens leaning over a chart, smiling at her.

“You’re right, Dr. Stevens. But he knows my research so well. I have a pretty competent intern on it too, though. An oncology intern that I’m borrowing.” Jo leans on her elbow on the nurse’s desk.

“Ah right, you’re our new research fellow. I’m inspired by your work, Doctor...”

“Wilson, Josephine Wilson.”

“Doctor Wilson; its innovative. I was surprised to see Chief Bailey even put out a personal check to fund your fellowship.” Izzie smiles, and it makes Jo feel warm inside.

“Uh yeah, it was certainly a great opportunity. It wasn’t my original plan to come to Seattle, but plans change.” Jo gives a small smile, as Izzie hands her tablet to a nurse.

“Welcome to Seattle, then. The warnings are true, it rains a lot here.” And Izzie walks off.

“Thanks.” Jo calls over her shoulder.

“Doctor Wilson, your pager is going off.”

Jo looks at the nurse over the desk, “Right.” She feels her face flush. 911, OR 2.

***

A nurse slips latex gloves on Jo’s hands.

“You paged me?”

“Are you a general resident or something? If so, then yes, and get your damn hands in the patient, please.”

Jo looks up to see a face matching the voice; a male surgeon. She assumes he either hates female surgeons or residents with that tone.

“Fellow, a research fellow. I am also a board certified general surgeon, but I’ll gladly play resident for a minute.” She steps over to the table, “What do we have here?”

“Two-year-old boy; biliary atresia, I need an assist.”

“That would be why I’m here.”

Jo grabs the suction tube.

“It feels incredible to be in an OR. I’ve been here for a week and so far it’s been all paper work and setting up my lab, no operations yet for me. It’s like I have that intern-level high of being in here for the first time.”

“That’s great; but this kid needs your focus. I’ve been his doctor for a long time, and I’ve known you less than five minutes.”

“Doctor... well I don’t know you either, but look at his bile duct. He needs a Kasai.”

The male surgeon inspects the patient’s abdomen, and sighs defeatedly.

“Crap. You’re right.”

“It’s okay, we’ll do it right. You’ve gotten this kid this far, and I’m pretty confident in my skills. Let’s get ready.”

***

As Jo scrubs her hands after surgery, it occurs to her.

“I still don’t know your name.”

“Doctor Alex Karev, pediatric general surgeon. But you knew that. And yours?”

“Doctor Jo Wilson. General surgeon and research fellow. But you knew that.”

Alex smiles, and it makes her smile back. He has a ruggish look, almost hardened that attracts her.

“Your whole motivational thing helped. Thanks. I didn’t mean to be an ass in the there; still working on that. I’ve been an ass my whole life, and I revert when I’m stressed.”

“It’s okay, I kick and scream when I’m stressed too. Maybe we should both work on our coping mechanisms. Make a switch to ortho?” Jo can’t help her cheeky grin.

“Oh yeah, definitely. Let’s get right on that.” Alex’s eyes widen as he says it, and his grin soon matches her. Jo studies his face for another moment, before her pager goes off again.

“I have to go. It was nice meeting you Doctor Karev.”

“You too, Doctor Wilson.”

Jo leaves the scrub room, feeling lighter in her step as she walks toward her lab. Her elation even leads her to believe that Cross will have gotten the correct tests. She turns the corner.

“Doctor Wilson, these results look weird to me.”

Cross hands her the paper, and Jo feels her heart rate speed up as she reads it.

“Why the hell is her white count so low? Mouse number three I mean,” She trails over to the mouse, not looking up.

“Doctor Cross, did you or Doctor Rayn notice this mouse looking sickly? Maybe she’s got an existing illness?”

“It’s a mouse.” Cross says.

“Yes, I know that. What I’m saying is that if she doesn’t, this means that this treatment won’t work. This research is basically useless.” Jo gapes sadly at the mouse. Her stomach sinks and her chest hurts.

“Please, go run white counts again on all the mice. And test them all for anything weird. Consult a veterinarian if you have to, just find out if there’s something wrong with my mouse. Find Rayn to help you.”

“Got it. I hope she’s alright; it had been going so well.” Cross looks down, the air in the room feeling heavy.

“I know. So go get those work ups done.”

Once her resident is gone, Jo takes a seat at a lab table for a moment, before deciding that what she really needs is a lunch break.

***

“That looks absolutely disgusting.” Jo feels like she might throw up looking at her friend, Doctor Atticus Lincoln’s lunch.

“She’s right Link, that looks like it was burnt, thrown in a dumpster and harassed by a koala.” This comes from Amelia Shepherd, Atticus’ longtime girlfriend and recently— fiancée.

“Well, I’m going to it eat it. And neither of you,” He looks between the two women, “Can stop me.” And with that, he shoves a bite of meatloaf into his mouth.

“Oh god,” Jo squeezes her eyes shut, and shoves a bite of salad into her own mouth to wash away the second-hand disgusting that she feels.

Amelia goes unbothered, instead becoming interested in Jo.

“So, have you found any new friends. Better than this loser; a boyfriend, or perhaps a very lucky man in a bar? There’s one right here, no discount, but the owner probably knows more about us doctors and nurses than we do.”

“Maybe, no, and definitely not.”

“Oh well that’s boring. Who’s your friend?”

“Doctor Karev. We didn’t speak all that much, and I wouldn’t call him a friend yet, but he seems nice, and we clicked.”

“Oh he’s like a rugged hot right? Not my type, but good looking,” She then turns to Link, “The one with the crazy wife, right?”

Link looks up innocently from his meatloaf, “You think everyone is crazy. She’s normal to me.”

“Okay...he’s normal though? Safe to be around?”

Amelia laughs, “She’s not dangerous. She is crazy though, crazier than me; and that’s saying something. She’s charming to some, but I wouldn’t marry her, if you know what I mean.”

Link adds, “She’s nice though.”

“Sunshine-y like my fiancé here.”

Jo nods.

“So no crazies, right Link? They’re both normal people?”

Link glances at Amelia, “Amelia only hates her because she believes she should’ve been kicked out of the program for something she did as an intern. It’s not my story to tell, but it was kind of crazy. The whole thing.”

Jo smiles, “Okay, then I might just have a new friend.”

***

“Doctor Wilson! So this is your lab. It’s very organized. It also reeks like med school.”

“Not much worse than ORs get, Doctor Karev.” Jo smiles to herself.

“A hundred percent. Can I ask what you’re working on, oh wise research fellow?” Alex walks over to Jo and the mice, studying them.

“A cure for cancer. In the long run, that’s the goal. This is just phase testing, still on mice. Right now, me and my team are studying a whole bunch of boring crap to get to the fun stuff. It’s just me, two residents, a couple of biomed engineers and some mice.”

“That’s a big goal. And kind of an incredible one. How did you get the grant money?”

“The chief of surgery wrote a personal check. She was inspired by my work at Hopkins, in residency, and I gave up my minimally invasive fellowship at Mass Gen to come here.”

“Wow, someone’s got expensive taste. Family money?”

“What, no? Brain power. I was a foster kid, but I’m just ridiculously smart. You probably couldn’t comprehend half of what I do here.” Jo teases, grinning.

“Oh yeah, I’m just really stupid. But hey, I was a foster kid too. On and off.”

“Oh yeah, any good homes?”

“One. The rest were all crap.”

“Mine were all crap. Every single one. But life goes on. You have to get past it, or it’ll sink you.”

“Wow that’s deep. Real insightful.” Alex deadpans. Jo rolls her eyes.

“Shut up! It’s what my therapist taught me when I was in my early years of med school. That’s what happens when you’re messed up in the head.”

“Hey, at least you have your self-proclaimed ridiculous smarts, I just have messed up.” Alex cracks, as Jo tinkers with a tool.

“Ever been to therapy?” She asks hesitantly.

“No.”

“It’s horrible. I threw up every time, and I think it made me worse. But then it made me better.” She puts the tool down and faces Alex.

“Good, I’m glad.” Alex smirks sideways for a moment, and Jo can’t help but smile back. Then, after a beat, Jo works up courage.

“So I heard you have a wife. What’s she like? You can’t be that messed up if you have a wife.”

“Uh yeah. She’s a doctor, an oncologist. She pops in here often, she did a surgical residency. Doctor Izzie Stevens.”

“Oh. I’ve seen her around; talked to her this morning. She’s very nice, pretty too.” Jo compliments.

“Yeah, she’s great. What about you, anyone special? Husband, girlfriend, dog?”

Jo laughs, “Just me right now. New city, cross country move, you know?”

Alex nods, “Gotcha. Anyone you had to leave back home? Personally I ran from where I grew up, but some people have a hard time letting go.”

Jo bites her lip, “No, not from Maryland. I’ve ran before, but not from there.” Her voice is quieter and she seems to shrink into herself.

“Oh. Well that’s nice, I guess.”

“Yeah. No running anymore. Seattle is growing on me. I like that rain.”

Alex smiles.

[toria-lilith]

Smoke and Roses - A Douglas Booth!Nikki Sixx fan fiction (Chapter three)

A/N: Hi guys! I’m so glad you’ve all enjoyed the first two chapters of the brainchild that is Smoke and Roses! For those of you who’ve already read the first two chapters, please note I’ve changed Hester’s name to Holland, (Holly for short). I hope you enjoy this chapter!

T.W: Drink and drug use, general debauchery Word count: 1461 Masterlist: Chapter one | Chapter two

By the time eight o'clock hit, and the party was almost beginning, Holland had worked herself into a terrible state. She’d even considered calling Doc and demanding he send her home with immediate effect. The thought of partying with Motley Crue was enough to give her nightmares. But Holland also didn’t like to give up, and so she forced herself into a black leather mini dress, some platform boots, and teased the shit out of her hair.

Nikki had told her she didn’t look the sort to go to a Motley Crue party, and maybe that was true, but Holland loved the music of the bands she had worked with. Judas Priest, Black Sabbath, Aerosmith… she loved it all. And sometimes, she allowed herself to look the part too, particularly on nights like that. She abandoned her sweaters and jeans for tight leather and smoky eyeliner, a little trick her older sister had taught her when she was a teenager.

So there she stood, in Nikki Sixx’s bedroom in front of a full length mirror attached to his closet door. Only now, it was her bedroom too, her mirror, and her bed. She didn’t particularly like the thought of sleeping in that bed, but Nikki was a better option when she thought about the rats that lived in the walls of the sitting room.

There was a knock on the bedroom door but before she could answer, it was opened and Nikki strode in. She thought about reprimanding him for not respecting her privacy, but then again, it was his room. He had only come in to get some alcohol from the mini fridge but he paused in the doorway and wolf-whistled. The blush returned to her cheeks with a vengeance. “Damn, Holly,” he smirked, “you’re looking good.”

Holland shrugged, smoothing out the creases on the front of her dress. “I thought I’d make the effort,” she told him, trying to appear casual. He took a bottle of Jack out of the mini fridge and held it out to her, but she shook her head, declining the offer. “I um, I don’t drink,” she said, almost ashamed. There was nothing like telling a member of Motley Crue about an aversion to alcohol, and though Nikki looked at her like she’d grown a second head, he didn’t comment.

Instead, he took a long drink himself and then lit up a cigarette, which he also offered to her, but she denied that too. She was surprised he didn’t attempt to pressure her into doing either. He threw an arm around her shoulders and led her out to the sitting room, which had already filled up with groupies and addicts.

He watched her, curious to see what her reaction was but Holland was unphased. While she’d never partied quite as hard as Motley Crue had, she’d been to her fair share of parties and had seen groupies and junkies in all shapes and sizes. She shrugged Nikki off and made a B-line for Mick, who was sitting on the sofa with a bottle of vodka in his hand.

Of all the boys, she liked Mick the best. He seemed to be the most sensible of them, and Holland liked that. “You’ve got your work cut out for you,” he said as she sat down. He didn’t look at her, but she knew it was directed at her.

“I figured,” she admitted, glancing over at Tommy and Vince who were both already snorting lines of cocaine off a groupie’s ass. “Are they always like this?”

“They never turn it off.” He confirmed. “It’s party city one hundred percent of the time.” He drank from his bottle for a long time and Holland assumed that was the end of the conversation, but then he asked, “so how’s a girl like you get involved with a band like us? I mean, you’re just a fucking teenager.”

“I mean… I’m twenty three,” she corrected him, “I’m older than Tommy.”

“A teenager,” he insisted, and Holland thought better than to argue with him.

“I grew up around music,” she said, “both my parents are music journalists. And Doc is my Dad’s best friend. So when I was eighteen, Doc started hooking me up as a PR assistant, but I’m fucking good at what I do, and by the time I was twenty one I was managing all the greatest bands and minimising their fuck ups.”

“So you’re a control freak?”

She glanced at him and decided it wasn’t meant as an insult so she nodded. “I guess you could say that. In the nicest way possible.”

Mick chuckled. It was the most emotion she’d seen him portray thus far, and hadn’t decided if he was stoic or just grumpy. Or maybe he just didn’t like her. It was hard to tell. “Well, like I say. You’ve got your work cut out for you.” He glanced across the room, “Nikki’s on fire.”

“What?” Holland shot up from her seat like someone had fired a rocket up her ass. Nikki was indeed on fire, or at least his jacket sleeve was, as he attempted to impress a couple of girls and prove how ‘punk rock’ he was. Holland just thought he was an idiot. “Jesus Christ!”

Mick slowly got up and stood beside her, crossing his arms over his chest. “Welcome to the family.”

Nikki didn’t seem phased by the fact his arm was engulfed in flames, and the fact that Vince and Tommy were cheering him on definitely didn’t help the situation. She had a good mind to go over there and attack him with the foam end of a fire extinguisher, but part of her was curious to see where it went. 

She’d never seen anything like it in her life. No rockstar she’d worked with had ever willingly set himself on fire, let alone smiled while he was doing it. With a sigh, she disappeared briefly to the bathroom and leaned over the sink, her fingers gripping the sides of the porcelain while she mumbled to her reflection. “You are a fucking professional,” she told herself, “do not let these assholes get the better of you. You are a professional and you can handle this.”

The door flew open. Holland cursed herself for not locking it. Vince was in the doorway and she was surprised to see he was alone, without a girl on his arms. His nose dripped blood from where he had stuffed it full of cocaine. “You are a sorry fucking state,” she grumbled, already tired of their antics. 

“C'mon, Holly,” he slurred, drunk as well as high, “don’t you want a little fun?”

“Absolutely not,” she scoffed, “I have a strict policy. I don’t mix work with my love life.”

That time, it was Vince’s turn to scoff, “who said anything about love, baby?”

“Find a groupie, Vince,” she scowled, “that’s what they’re here for.”

“That’s a good fucking idea,” he wiped the blood from his nose on his sleeve and then retreated back into the party. As Holland turned to go as well, Tommy and a girl stumbled into the bathroom, armed with a little baggie of coke to split between them. Holland didn’t say anything to them. By the time she got back into the sitting room, Mick had gone, but Nikki had been extinguished, so she supposed that was a victory, even if it was one she couldn’t take credit for.

The party was in full swing, and she wanted nothing more than to retreat to her shared bedroom, but she now felt as though she was proving a point, to herself as much as to Doc and the band. So she sucked it up, sauntered to the fridge and took out a bottle of gin. She didn’t know how four men could possibly consume so much alcohol, but there appeared to be nothing else in the fridge, not even a slice of bread. She made a mental note to go grocery shopping the next day.

She collapsed into an armchair and swigged from the bottle of gin, which she instantly regretted. It tasted like battery acid. She grimaced, but put on a brave face and attempted a second drink. That time, it wasn’t so bad, and warmed her stomach when it settled. Nikki spotted her and jogged over to her with a grin. “We broke you so soon?” He teased.

“How else am I supposed to stay sane?” She said.

“Good point,” he took the bottle from her and drank, then passed it back. “Now you’re partying like a rockstar.”

Holland scoffed, “hardly.” But she couldn’t deny the intoxicating effect Motley Crue, (and the gin) had on her, and she knew she was in for a wild evening.

[peanutbutterjelly-pie]

Eternal

content: Castiel seems eager to reconcile with Heaven and Dean's not sure what to make of it.

word count: 1.5k

Dean has been noticing Castiel's efforts to reconcile with Heaven for weeks now.

It started with a few tentative calls and meetings, both sides apparently still a bit stiff and uncomfortable, but soon enough Castiel found himself away for “angel business” more often than not. He's putting a lot of time and energy in making up with his kin in any way possible and all his work seems to be fruitful considering he's becoming high demand once more, just like in the good old days.

Dean has been watching the whole thing from a safe distance, suppressing the urge to announce his (not so lovely) opinion about this change of pace. He didn't forget how the angels treated Castiel in the past, how they abandoned him for having his own free will and thinking of his own. And he sure as hell remembers vividly the countless attempts on Castiel's life.

So yeah, he's not exactly thrilled about this new development.

But he's got no right whatsoever to berate Castiel in this matter. Heaven had been his home for millennia, and Dean assumes it can't be easy to let something like this go without any kinds of regret. After all, his time with the Winchesters is barely a blink in Castiel's life so far, and though Dean knows that Castiel cherishes them deeply and wouldn't change a thing that happened (words that the angel stated repeatedly on multiple occasions) his ties to Heaven can't be ignored in the long run.

Something so intense and eternal, it can't be thrown away like yesterday's trash.

So instead of voicing his distress quite colorfully Dean shuts his mouth and suffers in silence. Castiel deserves to make his own decisions and if he's eager to make amends with Heaven, so be it.

Even if it means Castiel might recall the benefits of his old life at some point and eventually consider leaving humanity to its own devices to return back to where he was born.

Yeah, even then.

Because at the end of the day Dean only wants him to be happy.

And sure, they finally might have pulled their heads out of their asses about five months ago and made their grand love confessions next to a vampire's corpse, but that doesn't mean that Dean has any right to cling to Castiel like a needy boyfriend, miserable about his significant other spending time outside of their personal bubble.

So Dean keeps watching from afar and doesn't say a word because that's what Castiel deserves.

However, his angel has always been perceptive to Dean's emotions (he's still not a hundred percent certain that bastard isn't reading his mind somehow!), so when they eventually find themselves in their bedroom one night Castiel takes both of his hands into his and looks right into Dean's soul with his unnaturally piercing blue eyes, penetrating all of the hunter's layers with ease.

Like always.

“Something is bothering you,” Castiel says as he tightens his grip.

Dean lowers his gaze, figuring that outright lying to him would be futile to begin with. “It's not important …” he goes for instead, hoping that Castiel notices from the tone of his voice to just drop it.

Castiel, though, doesn't seem really inclined to do so. “This is about Heaven, right?”

Dean starts to fidget, but he can't bring himself to withdraw when Castiel interlaces their fingers, making the whole process much more intimate. “It's nothing, Cas …”

“Dean …”

The hunter sighs. “Yeah, okay, I'm having a few hang-ups,” he admits reluctantly. “So what? I'm happy you're getting a change to reconnect with your family and that's all that matters, right?”

Castiel's expression softens while pulling Dean closer. “You are my family!” he corrects, his voice warm. “You and Sam and Jack. Your mother. Claire, Jody.” He smiles gently. “Even Rowena is more family to me than the angels ever have been and if that isn't telling you everything you need to know, then I can't help you.”

Dean frowns in confusion. “Then why?” he wonders. “Why make all that effort?”

Castiel leans in and presses a tender kiss onto Dean's lips. “Because I want to be welcome in Heaven when the time comes.”

Dean blinks. “What time?”

Castiel smiles at him like he thinks him an adorable idiot before he goes for another kiss, this one a bit more intense and sensual, like he's pouring all his feelings into it.

“You're human, Dean,” Castiel reminds him with a chuckle a moment later. “And though I will make sure you will have a long and healthy life – which is not easy considering your eating habits and your general recklessness –”

Dean snorts at that because he can't really argue Castiel's point here.

“Despite your long life eventually you are going to die,” the angel continues, a little waver in his voice. “And you, Dean Winchester, will go straight to Heaven, no questions asked. You deserve it more than anyone.” He sounds pretty determined and Dean certainly wouldn't want to fight him over this. “And I … if you would allow it, I'd like to accompany you.”

Dean stares at him for a second, not sure how to feel about this. “You … want to go to Heaven with me?”

Castiel nods. “Yes. If you'd allow it.”

“So you trying to get cozy with the angels …?”

“Naturally I would need free access to Heaven for this to work,” Castiel explains. “Granted, for you I'd make it possible somehow, even without the angels' consent, but I figured I should try the peaceful way first.”

Dean feels his heart seize as he carefully wraps his head around Castiel's words. “So you're saying … you don't only want to spend my little human life with me, but eternity as well?”

This is so big.

And Dean knows that it shouldn't be utterly surprising, all things considered, but he still feels floored. He seriously didn't expect something like this going down tonight … or ever.

“We both know that death isn't the end,” Castiel breathes against Dean's lips. “So yes, with you there has always been eternity on the table.”

Some tears start to prickle in Dean's eyes. “Cas …”

“Of course you're not obligated to anything,” the angel hurries to reassure. “Only because I'm reconciling with Heaven doesn't mean you have to accept –”

Dean doesn't let him finish as he crawls onto Castiel's lap and wraps his arms around his strong torso, squeezing him so tight Castiel would've gasped for air if he'd need oxygen.

“Cas, man, don't be ridiculous!” Dean says, pressing a kiss onto Castiel's temple. “Of course I want fucking eternity with you!”

He feels Castiel's demeanor gentling at those words, like up until this point he totally anticipated the possibility of Dean rejecting his offer.

“Naturally you can revoke your decision anytime, even in fifty years –”

This time Dean interrupts him with a kiss, adding extra tongue to the mix which makes Castiel moan in delight. Even after several months he's so responsive to even the simplest touch and that's one of the reasons why Dean loves him.

“Cas,” the hunter whispers after several blissful minutes of making out with the man of his dreams, “you're really sweet and stuff … but you do realize that you basically just proposed to me, right?”

Castiel straightens his back and tilts his head as he obviously evaluates their entire conversation. And in the end he concludes, “Oh. I think you're correct.”

Dean laughs, loud and booming, and he feels happiness surging through his whole body. He never thought something like this even happens in real life, but yep, there it is.

“I love you,” he says with the widest smile imaginable. “You can't even measure how much, you stupid dork. So yes to eternity.”

Castiel looks absolutely joyful and soon enough their lips lock once more, their kisses switching between soft and warm to hot and desperate back and forth, making Dean dizzy in the process.

“I have to warn you though,” Dean pants eventually after having to pull apart for a moment to draw in some much needed air. “My Heaven will most likely consist of riding around in Baby, visiting that classic cars museum in Denver over and over, and having lots of sex with a certain blue-eyed angel. Lots of it.”

Castiel snorts at that mental image and drags the hunter closer again. “Well, I think I will manage somehow.”

Dean grins brightly. “You have been warned,” he teases. “No take backs now.”

In response Castiel flips him around on the bed so that he finds himself on his back, covered from top to bottom with angel who immediately starts to kiss the living daylight out of him, and Dean can't imagine ever being happier.

He's more than ready for the rest of his life – and eternity – to begin.

[jcmorrigan]

Me(n)tal Fatigue

The F/O? XR from Buzz Lightyear of Star Command. The S/I? Rachel Sparks - fifth ranger of Team Lightyear with a big heart for justice (and no glasses in this ‘verse because I suppose Nebula would surgically augment my eyes to make sure Zurg couldn’t rip the glasses off and stomp on them, which is a Zurg tactic). This one goes as an epilogue to the ep “Head Case,” and watch me project neurodivergent headcanons upon a ROBOT. Listen, I have evidence as to why he has OCD, GAD, or both and I can produce receipts.

***

       She crossed his path later that night, just after hours, in the hallways connecting the barracks. Not an infrequent occurrence, given the proximity of her barrack to his storage unit. As always, they greeted each other as friends.

           She put up her hand; “Hey.”

           He made finger guns at her and clicked his tongue, winking.

           This was the part where they would just breeze by each other and keep on going, usually. But tonight –

           “Hey. XR.”

           They’d already passed each other by a couple paces in her case and cycles in his, and XR heard Rachel’s call to him when his back was already turned to her. He turned a quick 180 to see her regarding him with an air of concern that was, frankly, surprising. Shouldn’t she be used to this by now?

           “You know, I didn’t come THAT close to dying this time,” he said, cavalier as ever, a flippant shrug punctuating it. “YOU were the one who almost exploded.”

           Oh, that realization didn’t sit well with him.

           “I know,” Rachel replied.

           The words were so hard to dig up. She knew what she wanted – had – to ask him. But was it out of obligation as a friend, or some twisted excuse to get more attention from him? She wrestled with herself in her mind over the topic. This was why having feelings for someone was horrible. You could never trust your own intentions.

           She ended up just staring at XR blankly for a minute and a half, at which point he remarked, “Ooooookay, Rachel’s finally glitched out. And here, I thought that didn’t happen to organics.” In a blink, he was up in her face, escalated to her height so he could wave a hand in her face; “HEL-LOOOOO! STAR COMMAND TO RACHEL SPARKS! IS THERE A SIGN OF INTELLIGENT LIFE IN THERE?”

           She snorted, then broke down giggling.

           “I’m not sure whether to take that as a good sign or one that you’ve just completely lost it,” XR commented.

           “I’m fine,” Rachel said, calming down. “I just…wanted to ask you something. It might not be something you wanna talk about.”

           “You grossly underestimate my desire to talk about anything for long periods of time, especially if that ‘anything’ is related to myself.”

           “Well, you’re in luck,” Rachel replied. “But seriously, if you don’t wanna answer the question, you don’t have to.”

           He reverted to his usual height. “You’re gonna kill me from curiosity, Rach. If your goal here was to finish the job XL started, you’re doing a bang-up job.”

           “I was the one he almost blew up, remember?”

           XR really, really didn’t like considering the actual implications there. “No, seriously, what’s the big, scary question?”

           “Well…”

           She had to ask. Even if it was just an excuse to get him to talk to her. Either way, she knew he needed to talk about it. If his case was anything like hers, anyway. And she knew it was.

           On impulse, Rachel repositioned, dropping to the floor to sit with legs folded in a pretzel-reminiscent configuration, making her actually have to look up to meet XR’s line of sight. “So. Everybody thought you had ‘mental fatigue.’”

           “We’re getting comfortable for this. That should be a red flag.”

           “You don’t have to answer.”

           “I at least need to know where you’re going with this.”

           “It’s just…” Rachel faltered on the wording, then decided to simply be blunt: “DO you?”

           XR flinched. “What, you think I’m some kind of nutcase? Granted, that would fall in line with your brand of affectionate insult – “

           “Just hear me out, okay?” Rachel interrupted. “It’s all these things I’ve been noticing. How you straight-up ditched the team after having an air freshener ripped out. That was the first clue. You KNOW I’ve been there. It really looks like if you think you’re not perfect, you might as well not try. And then there’s the whole NOS-4-A2 thing. You’ve been taking him…REALLY hard. And then there was that attack that kicked this whole evaluation off, and…”

           “You are reading way, WAY too much into things,” XR replied, waving a hand as though to brush off Rachel’s speculation entirely. “Everyone has problems facing down a legitimate archnemesis. The rest of that is just my lovable quirks.”

           “And that’s…fine,” Rachel said unsurely. “It’s just that…I’ve…been a lot of these places. Not all of them, but…sometimes it really looks like you’re dealing with some heavy shit. Like you’re scared. Like you feel you’re losing control. Like you’re anxious.”

           “Robots don’t get anxiety disorder,” XR said dismissively. “I am literally programmed not to have anything your armchair diagnosis has led you to believe I have.”

           “And I’m totally ready to bring out the apology train for assuming,” Rachel went on. “I just had to ask if…” She swallowed hard. “If you were okay. That’s really all I want to know. Because if you’re not, then I figured you might wa – need to talk about it. And if you do, then…I’m here. But if I’m wrong, then just tell me straight, I’ll shut the fuck up, and I’ll go directly to bed without passing Go or collecting two hundred unibucks.”

           XR regarded Rachel with mild suspicion. “And after I answer, you intend to do WHAT with that information, exactly?”

           “Nothing,” Rachel told him. “This isn’t like taping me stupid dancing. I’m not gonna broadcast it or use it as blackmail. Like I know you wouldn’t do for anything ACTUALLY important.”

           His immediate instinct was to make a wisecrack about that, but that was perhaps the one sacred covenant between them, and he knew better. She was right about that much.

           “I’m just…” Her voice was barely able to eke out the next words due to the pounding of her heart. “Worried about you.”

           The silence only lasted a few seconds, but they could both feel how heavy it was and what it carried with it.

           “Well,” XR said at last. “Don’t be, because there is nothing to worry about.”

           Rachel looked up to him, giving him a nod in response. Maybe she’d been wrong. It was entirely likely she’d been projecting.

           His smile was broad, his body language solid. “You think it’s gonna take a few near-death experiences to break XR, Robot Ranger? Well, think again, my grammatically correct friend. I’ve been on the force longer than you have, you know.”

           By a couple months, she thought, but she didn’t voice this, instead nodding.

           “And I’ve seen things,” XR went on confidently. “Things that would reduce your average civilian to tears. But me? I am resilient in all conditions! Mental fatigue? Please. At the end of the day, nothing REALLY gets to me. Only the satisfaction of bad guys stopped, a job well done, and, if the day has gone according to plan, side cash earned from a moonlight venture. Granted, it’s a fifty-fifty shot that that part ever goes according to plan.”

           Seventy-thirty, Rachel corrected internally, and not in your favor.

           “In conclusion,” XR stated, “you don’t need to get your pretty little head worried about me, because I am completely, totally, one HUNDRED percent – NO I’M NOOOOOOOT!”

           The shift had been completely unpredictable; suddenly he was shaking like a leaf, fluid welling up at the bases of his eye-lights. Rachel flinched; it was like he’d been replaced again, like an entirely different robot stood before her, but she knew it was him. And she knew it was exactly as she’d suspected.

           “I DON’T WANNA KEEP DEALING WITH THIS!” XR went on, his voice cracking. “I DON’T WANNA LEAVE DUTY, EITHER! I CAN’T HAVE ANYONE THINKING I’M NUTS! BUT EVERY TIME THAT ENERGY-SUCKING VAMPIRE REARS HIS HEAD, OR XL RIPS ME TO PIECES, I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF I’M GONNA MAKE IT OUT THIS TIME! AND I REMEMBER THAT! I THINK ABOUT THAT!”

           Rachel didn’t reply. She simply listened. He had to say his piece. He’d had to say it for some time now. Though she had to admit she wasn’t as prepared for this reaction as she’d thought she had been. She had asked for candor, but hadn’t expected things to get quite this candid.

           Nor was she expecting it when he leaned right into her, his arms suddenly extending to wrap tightly around her in a desperate search for comfort, for understanding. She froze, her heart the only part of her in motion, and that dangerously so, throbbing so fast it might just explode. Feelings. She cursed them. If she didn’t have those feelings for him, this wouldn’t be so difficult to navigate, and she could just be there for him without pausing or stuttering. She could just –

           Well, realizing what a rational Rachel without a crush would do indicated what the real Rachel had to.

           She wrapped her own arms around his cylindrical body, pulling him a bit closer. Thinking about how there might not even be any benefit he’d get from that, being unable to sense tactile stimulation and all. Knowing that didn’t matter.

           “And you know – YOU KNOW – I’m only the way I am because of an accident!” XR babbled. “I got smashed to smithereens, and when they put me back together, I was me! Nobody knows how that even happened! And every time since then, when I’ve been pounded to bits, I come back as me! But what if I DON’T come back as me next time? What if I actually get deleted? Erased? Eighty-sixed?”

           Rachel had never even thought about that before, and she had to admit even she was horrified. No. She couldn’t tell him she was worried about that now on top of his mental state. She had to be the strong one here. It’s what she would want if it were her doing the crying.

           “ – and that energy-sucker’s obedience code is STILL in my data banks, and I’ve erased it THREE times since then, but it keeps reprogramming itself, and I can’t get rid of it, I CAN’T GET RID OF IT – “

           Her hand gently slid up and down his back. Now, that gesture probably was absolutely useless, but still, any way to let him know, without verbally interrupting, that she was listening, that she was understanding as best she could.

           “ – and THIS time, it was almost YOU that bit the dust, and that would’ve been on me! Forever! Knowing I let you get blown up!”

           A cold flush ran over Rachel. He’d really been that afraid for her?

           “And what kind of ranger lets all of his friends go down like THAT? Listen, I know I’m not the galaxy’s most morally upstanding guy, but – “

           Oh. He’d meant the collective “you.” That made more sense.

           This went on for a while. What he poured out, she absorbed, and soon she was the one shaking, having to hold all of this knowledge, even if it was only confirmation of what she’d theorized. Then there was silence, the pair of them locked together in the middle of a public hallway, surprisingly not having attracted any outside attention or gotten in the way of passersby. The benefits of waiting until after hours to have a breakdown.

           At last, very quietly, XR said, “I needed that,” and Rachel knew it was over. They let go of each other, slowly, and when XR met Rachel’s gaze again, his tears had dried, and he was putting on his best game face.

           “And you KNEW I needed that,” he said in an even tone.

           “I guessed,” Rachel said. The first words she’d spoken in a while.

           “And you’re NEVER going to tell anyone.”

           “No,” Rachel affirmed. “This stays between us. Unless you want to take it to anyone else.”

           “I don’t need them kicking me out for this,” XR said firmly.

           “I don’t want them kicking you out for this,” Rachel agreed. “You’re still doing GREAT. Being a little…um…”

           “Insane? Loco? Bananas?”            “…I don’t have a more polite word right now. The best I have is ‘messed up.’ But being a little bit that-stuff hasn’t really held you back that much. People get stress like that.”

           XR fixed Rachel with a particularly corrective look; “People?”

           “And robots,” Rachel said with a nod. “And you do a great job of working around it. I just know that sometimes, when it gets like that…if you don’t find a place to let it out, you’ll just collapse.”

           “Well, in that case…” XR suddenly lost a bit more confidence, tapping his index finger points together sheepishly. “I probably owe you one for being the – “

           “No. You don’t.” She was stern on that point. “Never. And I don’t wanna hear it brought up again.”

           “Right.” A double take, as though he was only just now realizing where he was, and what time it was. “Basically, this never happened.”

           “What never happened?”

           “Exactly.”

           Though Rachel couldn’t be completely selfless. “A thank-you WOULD be nice, though. That’s literally all I want.”

           “Well, thank you,” XR said, sounding completely offhand.

           Even though Rachel knew he was anything but.

           She set about getting to her feet. “Anyway, we both need to get to bed. I’m gonna hate myself in the morning if I don’t go to sleep – “ She checked her watch. “ – thirty minutes ago.”

           “As opposed to how you USUALLY are in the mornings?”

           “It gets so much worse than you know.”

           “Well, that’s not reassuring,” XR told her, completely casual now. “Meanwhile, you know the drill. Don’t need sleep; still love it.”

           She nodded. Then said “Goodnight” as though that were in any way sufficient to close out the situation that had just taken place.

           Rachel turned to walk away when she heard it:

           “Hey. Rach.”

           She turned back to see XR regarding her with a look of concern this time; a mirror image of the incident that had begun the conversation.

           “It hit me that you figured all this stuff out about ME because you were reminded of YOU,” he pointed out. “How messed up are YOU? For lack of a better term, of course.”

           She bristled. “Enough.”

           “And who do YOU talk to about it?”

           “No one,” she admitted. “But it’s fine. I’m an old pro at this.”

           “Oh, reeeeaaaaally.” The skepticism dripped.

           “Who am I even gonna talk to?” Rachel asked, half hoping against hope –

           “Well, they do say turnabout is fair play,” XR told her. “You COULD unload all your sorrows on your local sympathetic robot.”

           As absolutely wonderful as that sounded, Rachel had to call it out for the pipe dream it was. “You don’t really wanna talk about my issues. I know you’re just trying to be a good friend, and probably get me to talk you up about being such a good friend, but you don’t want to. Not really. And that’s fine. You don’t have to. You’re a good friend for other reasons. I’m the hear-you-out-on-your-vents friend. You’re the pull-elaborate-stunt-to-get-me-un-fired friend. It’s fine.”

           “Oh, yeah?” XR retorted. “You think I can’t handle your problems? Try me.”

           Well, now Rachel realized she’d challenged him to prove his worth, and he wasn’t going to back down. “Another time,” she told him, vowing to herself to never let him know when she was having such troubles. “It’s late o’clock right now, and I just want to go to sleep.” By which she meant push her curfew another hour and a half reading fanfictions and critical analyses.

           “Just know I’m here when you need me,” XR stated, all too boastfully. He couldn’t be honest about this, Rachel worried.

           “And I’m here when you need me,” she replied, meaning it deeply. “Whenever.”

           I’d probably do way too much for you, she added internally. I like you so much. I need you to be okay.

           “Now GOODNIGHT,” she asserted as she turned on a heel and briskly strode off to her barrack.

           XR watched her practically speeding away, still not really able to move on from what had just happened. He was trusting her with a lot now, but he knew she was exactly the right person for that, regardless of venom swapped between them in the past. He was perhaps just a little more fond of her now – not romantically, not in the way she’d have wanted, but he still had no clue of that.

           It was just a very, very good thing XL hadn’t blown her up.

           XR now made direct tracks for his storage unit, resolving to forget about all he’d said and all she’d listened to but immediately replaying the conversation in his mind, word-for-word, ten times at least.