#instead of whatever's happening in anaheim

[lonewolflink]

.

[zegrasdrysdale]

also if your not uber uber busy could YOU PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE write a fic based off of one of these songs (feel free to do all of them my queen but NO PRESSURE) I also don't mind who the fic is with use who ever you feel would go best with it :)

Before you Go - Lewis Capaldi

It's Not Over - Daughtry

Goodbyes - post Malone

Circles - Post Malone

I hate you, I love you - Gnash

Mr Brightside - The Killers

Scars to your beautiful - Alessia Cara

Thank you I might request more but again no pressure

[ it’s not over ] j. drysdale

paring : Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary : Jamie and his girlfriend broke up right before he was traded to Philly. when Jamie comes back to pack up the rest of his things, she tries to fight for them since she doesn’t believe it’s over for them

warning(s) : angst galore ! a few uses of Y/N

author’s note : giving me free range to write this abt whoever was probably not the best idea, especially when i like writing jamie angst 😈

fic inspired by :

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I was blown away What could I say? It all seemed to make sense You've taken away everything And I can't deal with that I try to see the good in life But good things in life are hard to find

The NHL season ended without a word from Jamie since the day he got traded to the Flyers in January. Nearly four months passed after he was traded and she never got so much as a text message from her former boyfriend of nearly two years.

They shared a whirlwind of a relationship where they met, said they loved each other, and moved into an Anaheim apartment down the street from Trevor all within a year.

She truly loved him, and she truly messed up before he left for the trip to Nashville that he never came back from.

She knew there were rumors going around Anaheim about Jamie's trade, and Jamie blocked them out every time he heard even a whisper about him getting traded out of Anaheim. He didn't want to hear the reality. When she tried to get him to see that, he walked out the door for the trip after they got into a fight. He packed a bag and spent the night at Trevor's.

Now that the season is over, she expects him to come back to finish packing whatever he didn't grab over the All Star break in February. She couldn't just leave the apartment. She couldn't leave all of the memories behind so easily, especially since she still loves him.

Trevor texts her the day after the season ends and tells her that Jamie is coming in soon to grab the last of his things. Jamie couldn't even let her know that he's coming by. She spends that night curled up in their bed.

We'll blow it away, blow it away Can we make this something good? Well, I'll try to do it right this time around

The following morning, she's up early and thinks about what she can do to fix what's broken between them over a cup of coffee. She has no idea if he's mad at what she said or mad at the fact that he did get traded out of Anaheim.

Maybe she shouldn't have said anything about the trade before it happened. Maybe he wouldn't be about to move out the last few boxes he packed in February if she let him process his future trade on his own.

She fucked up, but maybe she can fix it. It's not over until they both think it's over, and she doesn't think it's over with them. She'll try to do it right this time. She'll be supportive of him instead of trying to get him to see reality. That's where she messed up because Jamie was probably trying to cope with the fact that he wasn't wanted in Anaheim anymore by the team that put their faith in him and drafted him 6th a few years ago.

All she wanted to do was prepare him for the possibility of being traded across the country, and she was met with radio silence since he walked out that door.

He walked out that door with her heart and took it across the country with him. She has to try to fix what's broken. She's not ready to say goodbye to him. She's not ready for him to become a memory or a ghost that haunts her dreams.

The sound of a key in the door grabs her attention immediately. She was leaning on the kitchen island and stands straight up when the door opens. She leaves the cup of coffee on the counter because she is afraid that she's going to drop it when she sees who's walking into the apartment.

She bites her lip so she doesn't say anything when Jamie walks into the apartment for the first time with her there since the fight a bunch of months ago. It feels like a lifetime ago when he walked out the door.

He freezes when he sees her in the kitchen. Their eyes meet and she has to hold back tears.

Jamie looks so much happier and healthier than the last time she saw him in person. The bags under his eyes have gotten lighter. He is practically glowing.

He was working so hard while he was playing for Anaheim because he felt like he had something to prove. He felt like he needed to prove that he belonged here. Philly wanted him so he probably was able to relax.

"Hi," she finally breathes out when the silence gets to be too much for her. "You look, um ... you look good."

"Thanks," he replies, voice quiet. "Are the boxes still in the bedroom?"

She nods quietly and Jamie makes a quick escape down the hallway. She rests her elbows on the counter and puts her face in his hands to hide any emotions that Jamie could see when he comes back out into the living room.

Her throat closes up and tears prick her eyes. She had no idea that seeing him again would cause her to have this reaction. Seeing Jamie will always probably make her have some kind of reaction.

Let's start over I'll try to do it right this time around It's not over Because a part of me is dead and in the ground This love is killing me, but you're the only one It's not over

When he comes back into the living room, Jamie is carrying one of the six boxes that are left. That's probably the biggest box so he has to carry it by itself. The other boxes are light so they can be carried two or three at a time.

That means she's running out of time to talk to him before he walks out of her life completely.

She walks back to the bedroom where his remaining boxes sit in the corner. She sits on the bed so she can catch him when he walks back into the room. With a quick wipe of her cheeks to dry them, she settles on the mattress with her legs crosses and waits for Jamie to come back.

There are footsteps in the hallway and Jamie appears in the doorway a second later. He pauses mid-step when he sees her sitting on the bed they used to share.

"Can we talk?" she asks as her entire body shakes with anxiety and nervousness. "Please?"

Jamie walks over to the corner and piles two of the boxes on top of one another. "I don't have time," he tells her as he picks up the pair of boxes. "Trevor is waiting for me outside to take me and my stuff to the airport for my flight to Toronto."

She frowns as he walks out the door with his things, but she quickly throws on a pair of slides and follows him. "Jamie, please," she begs. "I don't want to let you leave without saying what I have to say. I don't want you to get on that flight without talking to me first."

He gets on the elevator and she jumps on with him. He presses the button to go to the first floor and the doors shut. "(Y/N)," he sighs. "I can't do this again. I don't want to do this again."

"I want to fight for us, Jamie," she says anyway as the elevator keeps descending to the first floor. "I'm not letting you just walk away so easily again. It was a mistake the first time letting you walk away. Especially because you didn't come back."

The doors open and Jamie walks out. She follows him out the front door. Trevor's car sits next to the curb, and he leans against it. "There is a reason I didn't come back," he comments as he throws the boxes in the trunk of the car. Then he looks at her. "I was traded, remember? I bet you do because you kept reminding me that I was going to be traded."

His words cause her to freeze as he walks away. She looks at Trevor, who just points in Jamie's direction. "Go," he tells her. "He's just being hard to get."

She runs after him as he approaches the elevator. The doors open and she once again joins him in the small room.

"I should've been a good girlfriend and be there for you to help you cope with the possibility of being traded," she says to Jamie. "I shouldn't have kept telling you to face reality. I didn't understand how you were feeling, but I do now. I wasn't there for you and was making it harder for you. I'm sorry."

The two walk back into the privacy of their apartment because it's still technically Jamie's apartment too. Once the door shuts, Jamie spins and faces her.

"You made it seem like you were excited to move to wherever it was I got traded to," Jamie snaps. "Meanwhile, I was leaving behind the life that I had made for myself over the past four years. I was leaving the best teammates behind, I was leaving my best friends behind. I pushed myself so hard once those rumors started that I hurt myself trying to prove that I belonged here. I hurt myself trying to prove that I had a spot on the Ducks, and they still traded me anyway. There's a reason I didn't want to face that reality and it's because I was leaving everything behind. Then there was you who seemed like you didn't care what you were leaving behind."

"Because I was ready to move across the country to be with you!" she shouts at him. Her voice is strained as she chokes back tears. "I didn't want to leave everything behind, but I was ready to start a life with you wherever you ended up, then you walked out that door and never came back. You ignored every single text and call I made. You never gave me the chance to explain myself, and now here we are."

He walks back into the bedroom to grab the last three boxes. "I didn't want to hear your excuses," he says as she follows him. "I didn't want to listen to how excited you were to start the next chapter of our lives or whatever while I was struggling to walk away from Anaheim. Sorry if I needed a second."

As he stacks the last boxes on top of each other, she says, "I would've given you as much time as you needed, Jamie. All you had to do was talk to me. Instead, you ignored me." She pauses as Jamie lifts up the boxes. "If I could do the last few months over again, I would. If I could be there for you then I would. I'd support you through anything. I did support you. I watched every single Flyers game you played in and I had to resist the urge to call you when you got hurt a few weeks after the trade. I had to ask Trevor how you were even though he was hurt too because I wasn't sure if you'd answer and I was worried you'd hurt your shoulder like you did last year. I cheered for every point you got and I loved you from 2,700 miles away while you were ignoring me."

Tears form and fall down her cheeks as she tells Jamie what been happening with her since he left. She's angry, but she loves him so much that she's willing to be angry at him for a second while they talk for the first time in months.

She's willing to be angry at him for this one moment.

Jamie puts the boxes on the ground and looks at her. "You still loved me and supported me even though I was ignoring you?" he asks like he doesn't believe her. She nods and wipes away her own tears while she looks at Jamie. "I didn't know-"

"You wouldn't have known because you refused to talk to me," she interrupts as she rubs her face. "I'm sure you didn't bother asking Z how I was either because he didn't tell me if you did ask."

"I asked him not to tell you."

"What?"

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "I did ask how you were doing, but I told Trevor not to tell you I was asking because I wasn't sure if I wanted to talk to you yet," Jamie explains. "He didn't tell me that you still loved me and were supporting everything I did in Philly."

"Still love," she corrects. "Still support. I always will because I thought for years that it was going to be the two of us til the end. When you walked through that door a little bit ago, I was getting ready to fight for us. I didn't think it was actually over between us, but you tell me if it's over or if we can start over."

Jamie stays quiet, and the only reason she doesn't immediately tell him to leave is because she can see that he's genuinely thinking about her words.

I've taken all I could take And I cannot wait We're wasting too much time Being strong, holding on Can't let it bring us down My life with you means everything So I won't give up that easily

His phone buzzes and he takes it out of the pocket of his shorts. He looks back up at her and says, "I have to-"

"Go?" she interrupts again. "Then go, but know that I'm not done fighting for us and our lives together."

"(Y/N)," Jamie sighs. "I have to go tell Trevor that I'm staying." Her eyes widen. "It's not over between us. I don't want it to ever be over between us, so if you'll let me, I'd like to start over. Redo the last few months or so with you."

All of the tension leaves her body and she nearly falls to the floor. She lets out the biggest sigh of relief, and also the loudest sob that echoes off the walls of the bedroom. She covers her face and cries into her hands.

A pair of arms wrap around her shoulders and she smells Jamie's familiar cologne on his body as it engulfs her. "We'll do it right this time," he assures her. "I promise.

I'll blow it away, blow it away Can we make this something good? 'Cause it's all misunderstood Well, I'll try to do it right this time around

Let's start over I'll try to do it right this time around It's not over Because a part of me is dead and in the ground This love is killing me, but you're the only one It's not over

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MASTERLIST

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[kyomunosaki]

Random thoughts on G-Witch

Honestly I really loved the whole run of G-Witch, but I wish it didn't de-fang some of the stuff it seemed to directly draw inspiration from, namely Universal Century's Anaheim Electronics and Armored Core: For Answer. I don't really know how to put it in my opening here, but I just wish they made it more of a compelling social commentary if they're going to be dealing in a corpo setting.

Spoilers obviously, and it's just mostly rambling on my part. Please don't take my opinions too seriously, they're just opinions.

I don't want to devalue the cool stuff it does with Utena homages with the Holder system and all, plus the really sad but heartfelt parts where the main two question their sexuality or whatever, that stuff's pretty good. But a lot of the Asticassia-related stuff just feels like a much safer, less interesting way of tackling the whole MS testing/selling idea compared to Anaheim Electronics. The difference between testing your suits through the OYW versus rich kids with no legitimate stakes other than more wealth is something to me, especially with the original metaphor and how it extends into later sequels, spinoffs, and fanfiction like Unicorn. I know this alone is petty, and maybe it is even with my other points. Still feel like it says nothing, while mostly just existing to support a different portion of the show, when it could potentially be a narrative about both.

I want to bring up that a lot of stuff like Peil Technologies and it's influence into the Space Assembly League is lifted seemingly directly from Armored Core: For Answer's Omer Technologies and League of Ruling Companies. Peil even galvanizes scientists from Vanadis Institute similar to Rayleonard! (There wasn't a good place to do it, but I feel like I need to mention how they got Wataru Inaba to design Peil's mobile suits, since he also did Rosenthal! The depth of the homages kinda go crazy.) Even with major elements of the show being taken wholesale from something that actually asks significant questions about the same topics G-Witch does (even has a "fuck them all ending"), I find that it fails to deliver by instead being one about bad actors and something about traumatized rich people leading to injustices, rather than critiquing the systems that allow that to occur.

This is just a guess, but I felt that in the show they originally planned to play with POV more. There are some bits in the first cour that are framed to be fun school club activities, but if you even think about it for a second they're a branch of a megacorporation advertising a war machine in a family friendly way to promote, medicine? Alongside the primary characters all being from prosperous backgrounds in a world that's run amuck with inequality, and the character framed as a villain who's seen as a hero to those on Earth, something interesting could've been done here! Two major events related to this happen, but quickly get glossed over due to some SEED-level MacGuffin spawning during the last portion of the show.

Thanks Rau.

One thing to note is that by the end, while Prospera gets to retire, Shaddiq just drew the wrong card in Monopoly. I would normally take this more in good-faith, but the framing of it just felt extremely wrong to me. It's taken more as a fact of the system, rather than something that can be fixed through stuff like action and education. But yeah, take this with a grain of salt since it's just my read on it.

Overall while the queer stuff in G-Witch is genuinely amazing, I do find the other social inequality stuff just completely lacking. It makes me wonder why they even included it outside of having the Utena stuff on a not!Aneheim colony through some Raven arena ranking system. I have a theory that some staffer, say Ookouchi, simply likes these works (check what he's worked on for example), but I really wish it paid homage to them by actually utilizing them.

I'm really hoping they make more anime in the Ad Stella timeline, since I think it has potential to be some of the most interesting Gundam stuff ever, especially since this sort of stuff doesn't get discussed in the series all too much. It's also the closest I'll get to any sort of Armored Core anime. Next time BL tho.

[peterpanfromlemonland]

The Night I Heard You Cry (pt. 8 Catch Ya Later)

TW/CW: Soft Simon, mentions of implied violence, make out session, Johnny realizing he has feelings for Simon

Johnny and Mai sat in her room, Mai rummaging through the things in her bag; trying to find the collection of CDs that had all of her favorite songs on it- Johnny couldn’t help but grin, she was finally comfortable- she pulled out a busted old iPod, a faded leather back journal, and then finally her CD collection. “While they were holding me in the sanctuary,” she started as she was searching for a certain CD, “I would sneak out sometimes to get help.”

“That didn’t work, did it?” Johnny questioned, of course it didn’t work, “What happened when you were caught?” Mai sighed and rolled up her sleeve, revealing all of the dark scars. She had more from her ‘attempted escapes’ but she didn’t feel ready to show anyone else yet. After she would get caught time and time again she gave up on help but relied on scavenging her old home to keep her sane by snatching any of her personal belongings she could hide in her bag. Anything from her CDs, small stuffies, sketchbooks, to her shambling corpse of an iPod.

“They caught me trying to sneak out one night,” she stared down at a CD in her hands, it had ‘Heaviest of Metal’ written on the case in bold sharpie, “they didn’t like that, I was chained up for a month.” She was silent for a while, reaching for her notepad to write what she wanted to say. Johnny watched as she scribbled her words down quickly. 

You know, I was born in Anaheim, moved to Chicago when I was 4. The house in Cali was just sort of a ‘vacation home’ or whatever you’d like to call it.

“Chicago?” Johnny tilted his head, he wanted to know more, “What was it like there?”

Cold. During the winter there was tons of snow! A smile came to her face as she handed him the notepad. Johnny made a promise in his head that one of these days he would take her to Chicago when it snowed there, he wanted to make her happy, and Chicago was probably one of the ways to do that. Mai smiled at him before putting her notepad down and picking up her stuffed bunny and looking for something else in her bag. Johnny couldn’t help but stare at her, taking in every detail; from the gentle curves of her body to her breasts- he wanted to squeeze them and hear her whimper and watch her squirm beneath him, he wanted to make her scream his name all night until the whole base knew who he was. He felt his jeans grow tighter, not now, he tried to hide the growing boner in his pants as his thoughts raced; he wondered what she would sound like sitting on his cock while he thrusted up into her. Now wasn’t the time for those thoughts, it was too soon to be thinking like that.

“Ghost isn’t as mean as he acts you know.” Johnny started, “He just wants you to be smart.”

Doesn’t seem like it. Mai wrote in response. From the way he acts, it seems he hates me.

“If he hates you,” Johnny gazed into her eyes, “Then why would he keep you around?”

I don’t know? Mai got lost in his ocean blue eyes. You’ve known him longer than I have, wouldn’t you know? She was right, Johnny had known the taller man longer yet it felt like he didn’t really know him at all. The man didn’t quite know how to respond to the question, instead he just stared blankly into her obsidian black eyes. Mai thought he was still pondering on the question and thinking of an answer, the girl stared back into his eyes; they were calm and crystal clear, something about them felt warm, felt like home. She felt as if she was back on the shores of Crystal Cove Beach, her first year of college had just ended and she decided to celebrate it on the beach; sketchbook in hand, she traced her pencil across the blank page with precision. She wanted to capture every miniscule detail of the ocean and its waves, the boats and ships that littered the big blanket of blue before her curious eyes. 

The two of them got lost in each other’s eyes, waiting on the other to say something- to do something. Mai took in the features of Johnny’s face; from his rough and messy stubble, sun kissed skin, to his messy mohawk. She liked looking at him, he was nice to look at for hours and she could never get tired of staring, it was when her gaze fell to his lips she then realized how handsome this man was. Her thoughts ran rampant with dreams of snuggling him, she was thinking about what he smelled like. 

Cinnamon? No, he’s too much of a rough and jagged man to smell like cinnamon. Maybe sage? Perhaps. Cloves? Nutmeg? A mixture of all of them? Mai felt her body slowly gravitate towards his, did he notice? His body doing the same, the two figures slowly feeling something pull them closer to each other, the two of them falling into the other’s orbit and unaware of the evident collision between their lips. Soft. It hasn’t even been a week before they met and here they are, lips entangled in one another, Johnny’s all self control had been thrown out the window. The man was greedy and wanted more, leaning in to the kiss and leaving her no room to retreat or breathe.

Sandalwood, sage, cinnamon. Mai’s head swam as his scent engulfed her senses, earthy and mellow. Her heart and brain were telling her to run but she wanted this no matter how scared she was. Her hand wandered to find something to cling onto, something to ground her while her heart tried to beat out of her chest; from his peripheral vision Johnny noticed her movements, he placed a hand in hers before breaking contact between their lips. Both parties breathless and wanting, expecting, more. Mai’s face was a bright shade of red, similar to the shade of an almost ripe strawberry, Johnny couldn’t help but crack a smile as wide as the Cheshire cat’s.

“Y’alright there, hen?” He cooed, his accent coming from his lips thicker than honey, “You’re a lil red there.” The man chuckled as the girl covered her reddening face with a pillow, oh how he wanted to just pin her then and there. Soon. He thought to himself. Soon. He gently moved the pillow out of his way before crashing his lips down to hers again, this time softer as to not spook her, searching for any signs indicating that she wanted ‘out’. 

There were none. The man took this as his cue to keep going, her grip on his hand tightening worried that she might be swept away too far from the shore. Johnny’s mind wandered to thoughts of what things could be, of what he wanted things could be. Her, Simon, and him. The three of them, together, happy. He moaned into the kiss at the thought of this future, of them. He knew it was wrong to think of his superior in that way, to want a future with him in it. Soon his bliss turned to greed, to want. He forced his tongue past the threshold of her lips, she squeaked in surprise- unprepared for such force, she tried to fight for the upper hand. 

Mai whined into the kiss, her other hand reaching for his shoulder to steady herself as the kiss hit her with the force of a hurricane. Trying to push his tongue out of her mouth and cause him to pull away first, to make him forfeit first. She was so close when there was a sudden knock at the door causing both of them to jump away from each other. “Hide.” Was all Mai could utter before running to the door and opening it just a crack. Simon stood on the other side, his forest brown eyes peering down at her.

“Hey there sweetheart.” The giant spoke, a hint of remorse and pain in his tone, “Seen Soap around?” 

She shook her head in response, avoiding eye contact with him.

“Ah, well,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Well if you see him, tell him to meet me in my office. Will you do that for me, love?”

She nodded softly, a smile creeping across her face.

“Oh yeah.” Simon reached into his pocket and pulled out a slick black switchblade, “Got this for you. Seeing as you aren’t completely comfortable with firearms yet, I thought this would be the best starter weapon for you.” He handed the knife to her through the thin opening in the door. The girl stared at it with wonder and fascination in her eyes, Simon couldn’t help but smile behind his mask as she mumbled a quick ‘thank you’. She was about to shut the door on Ghost but he grabbed the barrier dividing the two of them before she could.

“Mai, wait.” His gaze softened, “I’m… sorry for being so harsh on you.” He went on about how he was proud of her for actually shooting the damn pistol and that he would be more than elated if, when, she finally joined Ghost Team. He finally got it off his chest, he finally told her. Albeit, it wasn’t the full truth but it was something. He waited, he watched, for her response while his nerves were dancing around the flames of his heart. He was on edge, it honestly scared him and he wanted more. Mai smiled softly before tilting her head up to meet his gaze, that smile was to die for, Simon felt his heart jump over hurdles as he felt himself being buffeted by the ebb and flow of her ebony eyes. He wanted to drown in her, wanted to get lost in her but he caught himself daydreaming and snapped out of it.

“Anywho,” he straightened his posture, “I better get going. What do you Americans say? Catch ya later, yeah?” Ghost patted her head before turning on his heel and making a bee line to his office. Mai looked down at the knife and then back up to the retreating LT, her heart felt warm and fuzzy, maybe this Ghost wasn’t so bad.

[troubleabroad]

ICY

Today was a DIY day, Buggalugs off to the American Natural History Museum (The site of wombat misinformation {go back to the first ever blog to read about it}), and for me Greenwich village for record stores and general hipsterness. I got the subway down to greenwich, and again flaked it walking out on the right street. Needing some fuel, i didn’t opt for the standard NYCharcuterie, and instead went and gt myself another bagel.

This one was a little less fast paced than the first one, but still just as abrupt. Walking to the first record store, the streets were a lot different to chelsea. These ones were lined with trees, and little parks on every second corner. As opposed to homeless people, trash and bag sellers that I’m used to. The first store was an absolute disaster. Quantity does not mean quality. However, on the walk there I did notice a lot of actors trailers. So they’re filming something in the area. Turns out it was right next for to the record store. No idea what was being filmed, it was some sort of funeral. Instead of whatever room they used, the should have gone to the record store. Felt like many a thing had gone there to die… Outside of the usual code name trailers, i did spot one that was titled “Macaulay” so as far as I’m concerned, that was the home of Macaulay Culkin. And i won’t here any rational reasons why it wasn’t. I left the set and went to the second record store, also a bust, then on to a third which was brilliant. Thanks to a tip off from an insider back home I went to said store.

Leaving a small donation there, i had heard of a great book store nearby too. By “great” it was shite. It could have been another location for a funeral home for whatever they were filming.

I left greenwich and headed back home as it was getting into the late afternoon, and i had to make it to Madison Square Garden for the ice hockey!

Thankfully the apartment is basically at the entrance to madison square, so it was a uick 1 minute walk from the room to the security check of the ground. One thing that is incredibly annoying here is that at any major event, museum, flight, attraction. You have to empty your pocket and walk through a security guarded metal detector. waiting time could be cut in half if they just let people go in and be half-arse swabbed by some bloke with a metal detector.

Anyway, once it was through the worlds toughest security, it was up to the nose bleed section to take my seat and watch the game.

This was of course after a stop at the bar that serve full sized pints (by US standards) of full strength (By any standards) beer. One thing about MSG (the stadium not the additive) is that all the seats are theatre style padded. So no plastic bucket style seat that were used to back home, these are cushioned bottom and back for your comfort. How this isn’t a thing back home is beyond me. Enough of the comfort, its game time. We all rise, remove our hats (beers are welcome though) and everyone sings the anthem. 

Not as sacred as what we have back home, people in new york have just added their on lyrics during the song, which seems kinda on the nose, but anyway, we finish that with a cheer then its game time between the New York Rangers and the Anaheim (mighty) Ducks. Personally i was going for the ducks for obvious reasons, but after the first new york goal, it was hard to not go for them. Their support was fantastic, A very fun game took place, i got to have beer, popcorn and a hotdog, and new york won. Which means that its the first time i’ve seen a winning home team in america! This meant i could bask in the glory of the home team! Sing the song, meet the players, walk out with music pumping!! Except none of that happens, New York fans left early (they were winning), there’s no song, no celebration. The players just nod to each other and then they leave the ice. Hate to see what happens when they lose. After the game, it was another minute back home where I met back up with buggalugs an we exchange stories of the day. Due to an awkward game time, and a few froffies, i had developed a bit of an appetite, as had buggalugs after not having dinner. So being late, we thought we’d try a local, late night, burger place. McDonalds. Mcdonalds here is weird. A large is basically family size, and the options are wild. Also, the late night clientele of a mcdonald’s ind new york is very unsavoury, but we stuck by it and ordered our nuggets and fries and ridiculously large drink and headed back to the loft. After devouring the food, equal if not slightly better than home, it was time to call it a day. We’ve got out last full day in New York tomorrow, hoping to do some sort of tall building, check out a couple of other sights and tidy up any lose ends before we head to portland later in the week

[tisthenightofthewitch]

How Ghost — ‘an occult, pop, satanic sort of rock ’n’ roll band’ — conquered metal and the charts

Onstage at Anaheim’s Honda Center arena, Tobias Forge is not himself.

Instead, he is Papa Emeritus IV, leader of the theatrical Swedish metal band Ghost, singing from behind a latex mask and corpse paint, dressed in religious attire or bat wings.

His persona is of Ghost’s demonic pope, preaching of war and plague like a doom prophet amid heavy guitar riffs and vivid pop melodies. Some lyrics are more prescient than fantasy, from warning of “beliefs contagious, spreading disease” on the 2018 song “Rats” to the band’s new “Impera” album, which decries empire-building in time for Russia’s brutal invasion of Ukraine.

Forge says he’s merely an observer of history and “the circularity of things,” as destructive human impulses repeat themselves catastrophically across the centuries. “Flags, pandemics, flus and dictators come and go,” he says cheerfully. “Empires come and go. It’s always in circles, because at the end of the day we are dealing with humans.”

Forge, 41, is out of costume and sipping coffee at his West Hollywood hotel after a night of hard rock spectacle, with pyro eruptions and a big stage meant to convey threatening Gothic arches and stained glass. Offstage, Forge is less explosive, dressed in a treasured 1988 Candlemass tour T-shirt, his light auburn hair short and swept upward on top. He’s a thoughtful interview and quick with a joke, a family man with a wife and fraternal twins back in Stockholm. The previous night’s concert in Orange County was the final stop of a co-headlining arena tour with the Danish band Volbeat designed as a prelude to the March 11 release of the band’s fifth album, “Impera.”

During rehearsals ahead of the tour, Forge got “a very mild case” of the Omicron virus. Then the eight other touring members of the band tested positive, along with four crew members. “The whole band had it at the same time, so we just had COVID rehearsals,” he says. The tour happened as scheduled, and Ghost will be back in the U.S. later this year.

The band’s last record, 2018’s “Prequelle,” earned a Grammy nomination for rock album and hit No. 3 on Billboard’s Top 200. The band counts Metallica and Dave Grohl among its high-profile fans, and attracts a multigenerational rock audience, from kids in baby pope gear all the way up to older fanatics nostalgic for ’70s shock rock.

“Ghost has a diverse audience, which I love to see, especially for metal,” says Sammi Chichester, managing editor of Revolver Magazine, a close observer of the metal scene.

Forge is able to find pop hooks even as he mines his own low expectations for mankind. As a result of that catchiness, Ghost has been controversial among certain extreme-metal tastemakers. “It is a routine topic — metalheads love to argue,” says Chichester with a laugh.

The music tends to be more engaging than depressed, despite the ominous religious imagery.

“The lyrics are not about God. They’re about man,” says Forge. “We are, at the end of the day, an occult, pop, satanic sort of rock ’n’ roll band meant to entertain a group of people who are already down with that stuff.”

Any discussion with Forge quickly reveals him as a pop music obsessive, as he casually references Leonard Cohen, the Bangles and the primitive weirdness of the Shaggs. He’s not your typical high priest of metal. “In my adolescence, I was completely a death metal/black metal person in action and message,” he says. “But I always listened to a lot of other things. And that materialized in whatever music I was writing.”

Ghost was created in 2006 with Forge’s recording of a track called “Stand by Him,” built on a slippery metal riff and roots firmly planted in Scandinavian black metal. The music that followed rarely strayed from a growling metal core but showed surprising flourishes from the beginning, from busy keyboard melodies to delicate acoustic guitar.

The band arrived with a fully formed image that adopted a demonic, bizarro take on the Catholic tradition, accented with Gothic flair and comedy. Forge stood at the microphone in the role of a series of demonic popes called Papa Emeritus (Nos. I-IV), in flamboyant papal attire, with a band of musicians called Nameless Ghouls in silver masks. (The Ghouls now appear in what look like gas masks from a dystopian future.)

Forge, who is the band’s only consistent member, kept his identity hidden behind facepaint and pseudonym until he had to reveal his real name during an unsuccessful 2017 lawsuit by four ex-members of Ghost over back pay.

“Impera” was recorded last spring and summer, after the original plan to work with an American producer in the U.S. was canceled as the coronavirus crisis dragged on. Instead, Forge reunited with Swedish producer Klas Åhlund (Ghost’s collaborator on 2015’s “Meliora”), and he took his time composing new songs.

He sketched out a melody for the album’s closer, a nearly seven-minute prog epic called “Respite on the Spitalfields,” on the small electric piano in his daughter’s bedroom. “Twenties” emerged as a frantic chronicle of greed and oppression, in the form of a “demagogue sect leader speaking down to his followers in utter contempt,” he says. The sneering, catchy ’80s rock of “Griftwood” was inspired by former Vice President Mike Pence and leaders who wield the Bible as a means to political power.

The album also arrives as a pair of successful TV series — “Cobra Kai” and “Peacemaker” — have reintroduced an earlier generation of pop-metal to the masses, with prominent use of ’80s hits by the likes of Twisted Sister, Faster Pussycat, Hanoi Rocks, Ratt, Mötley Crüe, Scorpions and Def Leppard.

Ghost isn’t a throwback to the hair-metal era but does share a taste for hooks and melodrama. Forge hasn’t seen “Peacemaker” but spent quality downtime at home in Sweden watching “Cobra Kai” with his teenage daughter. “That series is a slam-dunk,” he says of the show, which continues the story of the “Karate Kid” movies. “And the music is great.”

The Ghost mastermind admits to nostalgia for what was commonly known as “album-oriented rock,” the mainstream rock category epitomized by Journey, Foreigner, Boston and other ’70s and ’80s FM radio stars. “I’m a huge fan of AOR bands,” says Forge, describing the genre as “smart divorce rock played by older men with mustaches who have gone through a little bit in their lives.”

Forge was raised in Linköping, Sweden, by a single mother and indoctrinated into rock early, by a brother 13 years older. Before he was 10, Forge was buying English and German rock magazines he couldn’t read, and absorbing as much metal, punk and classic rock as he could.

As a teenager, his tastes grew even darker and more extreme, as he discovered underground metal rising from Europe and America — then turned away from anything new in the genre after 1994, when he sensed things becoming too polished, spoiling the scary lo-fi sound and image he loved.

As Ghost itself grows more sophisticated in its sound and approach, Forge knows some longtime fans wish he would return to the band’s original recipe. Forge understands the feeling, and admits that he’d love nothing more than to produce new albums from bands of his youth so that he could force them back to an earlier sound.

He says he wants to satisfy fans while also challenging them. “I deal with that professionally in one way, and as a fan in another.”

Forge fully appreciates the intense feelings a music fan can have about a recording artist. Evolution is not always welcome.

“That has a lot to do with the type of personalities that are drawn to the world that we’ve been talking about: metal, hardcore, comic books, sci-fi — it’s a retreat, a safe place of order, organization, knowledge. This is the world that you hide in after school. And now there’s someone coming in there trying to … evolve? It’s disruptive.

“It’s not right or wrong. The future is what we don’t know, as much as it hurts.”

LA Times

[midnightactual]

SPACE ACE: Yoruichi’s Mobile Suits & History Part II

Part I is here!

U.C. 0088, April: MSA-0011 [Ext] Ex-S Gundam

U.C. 0091, January: MSZ-010A1 Theta Plus [ALICE] Yoruichi Custom

U.C. 0093, August: FA-93-ν2HWS Hi-ν Gundam Heavy Weapons System Type [ALICE] Yoruichi Custom

U.C. 0096, April: FA-93-ν2HWS Hi-ν Gundam Heavy Weapons System Type [ALICE] Yoruichi Custom

While the existence of the [Ext] Ex-S Gundam’s ALICE artificial intelligence system initially went undetected by Yoruichi during the course of the First Neon Zeon War—it overwhelmingly judged her decision-making abilities and reactions as both correct and logical, and rarely interfered—she would eventually come to perceive its presence through a variety of combat incidents during the conflict. Intrigued by the capabilities of the AI and the way it subtly augmented her combat performance, after the war ended in January of U.C. 0089, Yoruichi would spend the next couple of years delving into the darker secrets of the past decade to uncover the truth of many of the scientific horrors she’d faced on the battlefield.

In the course of her investigations, she would not only learn of the origins of the Cyber-Newtypes and the various Newtype Labs which had produced them (including Zeon’s Flanagan Institute and the Federation’s EXAM Institute, Augusta Newtype Lab, Oakland Newtype Lab, and Murasame Newtype Lab) but also of various technologies developed along the way such as: Augusta’s ORX-013 Gundam Mk-V with its Quasi-Psycommu System and INCOMs, which she had first seen on its successor, the AMX-014 Döven Wolf, during the First Neo Zeon War; the EXAM System created by the EXAM Institute, the HADES iteration developed by Augusta, and True Federal’s subsequent NEO EXAM System developments; and even the Reuse Psycho Device created by Zeon during the One Year War.

Seemingly lacking advanced Newtype abilities herself, Yoruichi knew she would likely gain little if any benefit from Psycommu or Bio-Sensor (and eventually Psycoframe) technologies. This was a problem as it became increasingly clear to her that advantages in mobile suit warfare were trending in that direction of development. Whoever held the advantage would probably determine the fate of humanity, and she was unwilling to simply stand aside in the face of whatever that outcome might be given the stakes. Utterly unwilling to submit to becoming a Cyber-Newtype given the evident drawbacks she’d witnessed through the First Neo Zeon War, let alone her subsequent detective work, Yoruichi instead decided to pursue alternative means of keeping up. She would still be collating all the information she’d uncovered when she was invited by Captain Bright Noa to join Londo Bell prior to its official founding on March 21, U.C. 0090. She agreed on certain conditions and was instated at the rank of Commander (chūsa).

With her newfound authority and data, Yoruichi returned to Anaheim Electronics in April of U.C. 0090 to renegotiate her relationship with them using the information she’d acquired. She also issued an ultimatum: cut her into even more of their latest technologies and work with her on competitor technology to counter Newtype battlefield superiority or she would air their dirty laundry not just to Londo Bell, but the entire Earth Sphere, making it very clear her threat was automatic: if anything happened to her or those close to her, the cat would be out of the bag no matter how thorough they might try to be.

Considering this a small price to pay to maintain her as an ally, Anaheim Electronics agreed to her terms, albeit with intentions of their own... They had already come into possession of several captured AMX-014 Döven Wolf units and were working on converting them into ARX-014 Silver Bullet units which were intended to test the Quasi-Psycommu System and INCOMs. Likewise, they were already negotiating a contract to work on converting the RX-80PR Pale Rider into the AMX-018 [HADES] Todesritter for Char Aznable’s Newborn Neo Zeon. Yoruichi’s provided information and continuing combat data both as an individual and from training ALICE would prove invaluable to both efforts, and others to follow...

Yoruichi was accordingly the recipient of the first production article of the MSZ-010A1 Theta Plus in January of U.C. 0091, with the ALICE AI from her [Ext] Ex-S Gundam being transferred into it. Finally in possession of firepower to surpass the MSZ-010 ZZ Gundam, Yoruichi would continue to sortie with the mobile suit for Londo Bell during the events leading up to, through, and beyond the Second Neo Zeon War in U.C. 0093.

With the disappearance and presumed death of Char Aznable and Amuro Ray during the Axis Shock event which concluded that conflict, Yoruichi’s relative prominence in Anaheim Electronics' eyes rose; she was their last “in-house” ace and in their view she depended on them as much as they now did on her. It would be to their mutual benefit to continue their relationship in such uncertain times...

Thus, in August of that year, they issued Yoruichi with the final development of the RX-93 ν Gundam, which had originally been intended for Amuro Ray himself: the FA-93-ν2HWS Hi-ν Gundam Heavy Weapons System Type. Stripped of its originally intended Psycoframe cockpit, it was retrofitted with a Quasi-Psycommu System and wired fin funnels developed from the ARX-014P Silver Bullet (Funnel Test Type) which had directly lead to the original RX-93 ν Gundam. This plus the integration with the ALICE AI which had accompanied Yoruichi for years would allow for the use of the funnels under AI-control in a fashion similar to that of the INCOMs of the AMX-018 [HADES] Todesritter, yet superior as Yoruichi’s ALICE lacked the issues of the HADES system. Her Hi-ν Gundam would continue to vastly outperform derivatives such as the RX-94 Mass Production Type ν Gundam and even the later RGM-96X Jesta in the years ahead.

With such a prize in Yoruichi’s possession, Anaheim Electronics tipped its own hand just as Yoruichi herself had demanded they do three years earlier by revealing to her the UC Project, the creation of the Newtype-Destroyer (NT-D) System, and the development of both the MSN-06S Sinanju Stein and RX-0 Unicorn Gundam. Privately horrified at the prospect of the arms race continuing without end, Yoruichi was all the more chagrinned to learn that the NT-D system required a Newtype to function. With all that conveyed, Anaheim Electronics gave a final revelation: a showcase of the almost completed MSN-001X Gundam Delta Kai and its n_i_t_r_o System, which could temporarily augment an Oldtype into a Cyber-Newtype, albeit with some ongoing teething issues...

Nonplussed at the possibilities apparently being dangled in front of her, Yoruichi proposed instead focusing on the synergy of systems like ALICE, the Quasi-Psycommu System, and miniaturization of existing technologies like I-field generators and Minovsky craft systems. She was not left with the impression Anaheim Electronics was particularly interested in her proposal and departed with the Hi-ν Gundam. She would continue to utilize it, with periodic upgrades by Kūkaku, through the leadup to the Third Neo Zeon War (“Laplace Incident”) in April, U.C. 0096, throughout it, and through the associated events.

Yoruichi’s earlier suggestions to Anaheim Electronics would prove prescient in the aftermath of the conflict as it was agreed by both the Earth Federation and Minerva Zabi’s faction in the Republic of Zeon that Psycoframe technology was too dangerous to continue to allow its development or proliferation. Her Hi-ν Gundam was—conveniently, due to all its alterations—exempt from this ban, as the Quasi-Psycommu System was considered primitive by comparison, like comparing a transistor with a microprocessor. Indeed, Londo Bell (along with ECOAS) and Yoruichi herself with the Hi-ν Gundam would be instrumental in enforcing this agreement through to Zeon rejoining the Earth Federation in U.C. 0100...

[borkthemork]

WIP Preview for a Fic Titled: “On the Corner Between E. Harry and Quay”.

----

Marcy closed her eyes for a second. The heaviness wore down her face, her nose, the ache between her eyebrows. 

She had no money. No phone. Nothing that could give them an advantage except for their legs, the fact Yunan robbed a mugger blind of ten dollars, and Olivia's ability to improvise some new swatches of clothing — being that she stole them from a clothesline and were bulky enough for all three to look casual. A bit shifty, but forgivable.

They looked semi-decent as a family. Enough of a family for people to pass them, give them some shifty eyes, but go on their way.

But the biggest challenge hadn't been braced yet. The newts didn't say it much, but Marcy hated thinking on the idea that they should starve too. Or get antsy from the topic of food alone — which they didn’t have...at all.

Marcy needed to make a decision. Either she made them hold out for hours on end until they could get to Anne's house, or they conserved more energy. With Los Angeles, the roads could become long and tedious. They'd might as well do what they could to keep their stamina.

So on the corner of W. Anaheim and Palos Verdes, they made a plan.

They stood behind a 7-Eleven, the sign flickering as a car beeped its way by. Lady Olivia had kept her hands around Marcy's for most of their excursion, but now that they had time to rest — with no one around except for the sleeping man in the alleyway corner — they should be able to get what they need. She just needed to look casual, not alarm anyone to her armor or the fact that people could definitely see how her pipe wasn't a crutch at all.

Hmmm. Maybe she could describe it as cosplay. Would that work?

Probably.

Marcy and Yunan made their move. They went down the street. Cars buzzed past them under a green intersection light, some flying by with US flags, others a myriad of bumper stickers from Ohio to Oklahoma. And when she stopped at their destination, hands on her hips, Yunan's question stood out to her the most.

"So these...7-Elevens, shall curb the hunger?" Yunan asked her. "They look rather sparse for a depository."

"I can guarantee there's a lot more than that," she said, motioning a hand to the blue-lit windows. "They've got snacks, drinks, and stuff under one dollar or less. With ten bucks, we should be able to buy enough to cover the next few blocks." She hesitated. "Until I pass out, but that's not gonna happen."

At least, she hoped.

"Just keep your mask on and don't make too much eye contact. Find whatever you need, think of sustenance. Long-term."

And the general made a little scoff, enough for Marcy to grow relieved when the sliding doors parted and welcomed them — the welcome noise a familiar tune, a familiar memory.

A memory where Anne and Sasha heard the same noise, laughed at how noisy it was, and grabbed all the hotdogs and Krispy rolls they could find. Until they gained a bag fit for kings. For massive sleepovers that went up till dawn.

Almost as if nothing had changed. 

Almost.

When Yunan parted from her, Marcy turned her attention toward the high shelves.

Her hands went through numerous arrays of candy bars. She ogled the calories on snackers, on moon bars and cracker packs, and for a moment her worries over being observed by the cash register alleviated somewhat.

Especially since the general was too intrigued toward a corner section of the store, where she mumbled names under her breath.

Hot dogs dinged from the microwaves. Slush-ees stirred in their mesmerizing and high-concentrated syrup mixes. The newspaper stands sit in their bins. One was labelled the Wilmington Gazette, and announced on the paper’s corner tonight's date:

December 10, 2020. Seven months.

Seven months of her lying, being useless, being inconsiderate and selfish.

Gosh. She really did mess this up for everyone.

Marcy sighed. She resisted wrinkling the newspapers. Instead she placed the bundle gently back before the worker could note her behavior from behind her counter. Better than having the retail worker pay them for damage. She could barely compensate.

But the confirmation came just like she expected.

Marcy Wu wasn't in Inglewood, Westmont, or anywhere near Burbank. She had dropped near Long Beach, somewhere farther South where the coast touched the docks, and now she needed to go up toward the skyscrapers if she wanted to keep Yunan and Olivia safe.

Not a bad task but…

Marcy had to be honest, she was at her limit at this point.

She’d been walking for hours with numb legs, a growing headache, and no driver’s license in sight. There were too many factors to consider. Too many consequences to count.

There came the idea of caught by police. Being caught by government scientists, confronted by her parents, over old mistakes that she oh so didn’t want to rip back open again. There came the conquering of numerous realms. There came the burning question of what secured deeply inside her mind and body. A lot that happened all at once.

But out of everything Marcy did, she couldn’t help but feel stubborn. She’d worked in stressful situations before. She fought a cult, took out an entire pirate mutiny, and practically rehauled systems so ancient and traditional that she herself was surprised when she actually fixed it all up ship-shape.

Right now, Yunan and Olivia counted on her to be safe. They had nowhere else to go, no human guide to show them what was safe and what wasn’t.

And that meant Marcy needed to improvise. Improvise until Anne took them in, allowed the newts to stay in her home, and maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to handle the mass that hid inside of her.

For better or worse, she needed to think of the bigger picture. A bigger picture where the balance between two realms continued to wobble on an uncertain axis.

And Marcy had to do something to fix it.

[slafkovskys]

somewhere along the lines / t. zegras

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★

my masterlist!

title from it ain’t me by kygo ft selena gomez

-

you had missed bedford, that was not something that you could lie about. it was your hometown, where you’d grown up, had met almost every person that you knew. it would never be anaheim and that was a fact.

another thing about bedford, despite everyone saying that it was quiet and safe and cozy, there were almost no secrets. shortly after you had arrived back in town, word seemed to spread like wildfire when you’d come home just barely three months after you had fled to california, following after trevor.

now, five days later, your son was tucked away with your mother in your childhood home and your car was pulling into a spot beside trevor’s that he had decided to keep at his parent's house when he left for the season. you could see him inside, his back to you at a table in the corner with his head down, hat covering his likely unruly hair.

you almost pull away, hand reaching to shift your car from park to reverse, but you stop yourself. he deserved an explanation just as much as you deserved closure.

you grab your bag from the passenger seat and open the car door, planting your sneaker-clad feet on the ground. you cross your arms over your chest, the new york chill wrapping around you as you quickly make your way towards the entrance.

walking into the cafe, the man behind the counter smiles at you. you walk up with the same grin and order the same thing you used to when you were in high school. you pay and nod when he tells you that it would take a few minutes, grabbing the number he hands you. you turn and find trevor already staring.

you tuck your bottom lip under your teeth and take a deep breath before walking over. you sit your bag in the chair beside you and stick your number in the holder before sitting down, “hi trevor.”

“why did you do it?” his scratchy voice asks, immediately jumping to the point, “why did you leave me?”

-

it was earth-shattering. heart-stopping. enough to send a round of cold chills down your body.

you were staring at the test with an emotionless face while the single word was staring right back at you, pregnant. you were barely seventeen then, still so young and planning on starting college applications soon. there was so much that you didn’t know and you were much too young to be responsible for someone else, you thought.

you didn’t cry. you wanted to, but the tears just wouldn’t come. instead, you put the test back into its box and shove it back into the bag before walking out of the drug store and to your car. you could feel the eyes of the cashier following you. she was the same one who used to place your animal crackers in front of you when you were four and now, thirteen years later, she was watching the aftermath of the pregnancy test that she had just sold you.

it was still early, the sky was dark and the atmosphere was glum. as you drove yourself to school. you stopped for some breakfast, so you wouldn’t have been telling your mother a complete lie as to why you had to leave so early, before parking in the same spot that you had been since you first got your license.

the brown paper bag that held your food was almost taunting. fifteen minutes ago you would have killed for what was inside, but now your stomach was so twisted that you didn’t even want to look at it. you sat in your car taking sips of your water before you grab your backpack and the brown bag and trudge inside.

you were six weeks into your senior year at that point and things were great. everything was great, your grades, your friends, your life. nothing had needed changing right then.

you walked into your first class of four that you had every day. your usual spot was open and angela, your designated partner, already occupied the seat beside it. she smiles when she sees you and holds up a hand, signaling that she had something to tell you, “first, you would not believe what happened last night. and second, what’s in the bag?”

“it’s got bacon and egg on it, so you wouldn’t like it,” you shake your head as you pull out your chair. you set the bag alongside your backpack on the tabletop before dropping down in the seat. “what happened last night?”

“so-” she’s interrupted by a loud noise.

you both look towards the door and watch as griffin strolls through, a big smile on his face. he heads directly for you and gestures to the bag. you wave your hand, “you can have it.”

“sweet!” he says, taking the bag off your table and placing it on his which was directly beside your own. he had wasted no time in devouring the sandwich, eating so fast you weren’t even sure he had time to taste it. he looks back at you after reaching for his water, “do you have a pencil i can borrow? i’ll give it back.”

“no you won’t,” you shake your head and hand him your backpack, not feeling like rooting through for a pencil you knew you weren’t going to need because you were supposed to be doing essays today. you focus your attention back on angela, “i’m sorry. what were you saying?”

to you, the matter wasn’t that interesting. angela had been talking to some guy who went to syracuse and had said that he could get you into some party that weekend, but, to be honest, getting into a college party was dead last on your list of pressing matters.

the morning seemed to drag on forever and when it finally reached noon, you were rushing towards the doors so that you could make a phone call to your doctor’s office to schedule an appointment to confirm that you were indeed pregnant.

you were walking down the hallway when a call of your name stops you in your tracks. you turn and find griffin jogging towards you and he throws an arm around your shoulder, walking you towards the door, “what’s-”

“i, um, i saw the box in your bag when i grabbed a pencil this morning,” he says, lowering his voice so that no one would hear him. you stop in your tracks, but he keeps you moving, “no, don’t look weird. i’m not mad or anything. it’s really none of my business, but have you, like, confirmed it or whatever.”

“i’m going to when i leave here,” is all you can say. your heart was pounding so loudly you could hear it and you were almost positive that griffin could as well.

“ok. come over for dinner and we can talk about it. mom’s gonna make your favorite,” he stops in front of the door, the look on his face telling you that he would not be taking no for an answer. you swallow before nodding, “okay?”

“okay.”

you knew within a couple of hours after leaving griffin in the hallway that the test was correct, you were due to have a child soon. even as you stared at the paper with the test results, you still couldn’t find it in you to cry.

after dinner, spaghetti with homemade meatballs, griffin quickly rushed you to his bedroom, warding off ava who was trying to wrangle you into her bedroom to watch some movie that no one else wanted to watch. you take refuge on his bed, grabbing a pillow and shielding your stomach with it. griffin takes notice and he sighs, collapsing beside you, “so, we’re having a baby.”

“we are not. i’m having a baby,” you mumble in hopes that no one would hear the two of you, “i think. i don’t fucking know. i’ve got to tell the dad at some point-”

“you don’t have to act like i don’t know, y/n,” he looks up at the ceiling. you gulp and he grins, “i’m not oblivious. i know that you and trevor hooked up over the summer. is it his?”

your silence gives him his answer. it’s quiet for a few minutes before you speak up, “i didn’t mean to get pregnant. i swear.”

“i believe you, y/n. i’m not mad at you about hooking up with my brother or being pregnant. it’s weird, sure, but i’m not mad,” he assures and you nod, pulling at the sleeves of your shirt. “are you going to tell him?”

“i don’t even know if i’m going to-” you trail off and he nods in understanding. “i just- i want time to figure things out. that’s all i want right now. please don’t tell him or anyone. besides my doctor and the woman at the drug store, you’re the only person who knows.”

“this is not my secret to share.”

-

you honestly tried to tell him. you typed out the four short words that should have kickstarted the rest of your life: we need to talk, but you could never follow through with sending them. you would see his snapchat stories and instagram posts every now and then, having fun and living life in massachusetts while you were back in new york, pregnant with his child that he knew nothing about.

he was doing all right without you and you were getting along just fine without him.

as wrong as it was, it was easy to hide from him. he didn’t come home often and you had no reason to be in boston, so when he was around, you just made sure that you weren’t. your son was born in february while trevor was still at college. when he unexpectedly came home in march, it was even easier to keep it from him because you weren’t supposed to be going anywhere.

griffin had done well in keeping his promise. he only slipped and told one person, his mother, and you really couldn’t blame him. one simply did not keep a secret from julie zegras.

she wasn’t mad, just disappointed that you were trying to keep it a secret which you understood, and fell into the role of being a grandmother quite easily. after you had given birth with your mother by your side, she had come to meet her grandson. her finger rubbed over his cheek as she sat across from you.

“he looks just like him,” she muttered, “he’s going to know, y/n.”

and he did.

as much as you wanted to, there was absolutely no denying that landon was trevor’s son. griffin had thought the same thing when he saw him for the first time and gave you a look that told you as much, to which you responded with a whispered “please don’t.”

as the months continued to pass and summer quickly arrived in bedford, you still hadn’t uttered a word to trevor. he didn’t reach out to you and you worked overtime to avoid him. the more that landon grew, the easier it was beginning to be for those who didn’t already know to start to piece two and two together, which only increased the likelihood of trevor finding out significantly.

you had barely had time to put your car in park before julie was rushing out of the front door. she opens the door to the backseat and makes a pleased noise, “good. he’s awake.”

you open your door and watch as she gets the car seat out. you grab your bag and follow her inside, “he wanted to see his favorite person.”

“who? me?” griffin rounds the corner and walks into the kitchen just as julie sits the car seat on top of the counter. griffin waves his fingers at the baby, “hi buddy. did you miss me?”

landon makes a noise like he’s about to cry and you and julie share a look before bursting into laughter. julie undoes the clips and pulls him out, resting him on her hip as she fixes the little hair that he had atop his head, “don’t take it personally, griffin.”

“he cries every time he sees me. it’s a little hard not to,” he scoffs before looking at you, “guess what?”

“what? has using my child finally gotten you a date?” you tease, taking a seat at the island and crossing your arms over your chest.

“no. he’s got the potential to be an excellent wingman, but for some strange reason, seventeen-year-old girls don’t really like babies. you don’t count. you’re eighteen now and he’s your son. you have to like him,” he points an accusatory finger at you when you open your mouth to speak. you raise your hands in surrender, letting your eyes wander over to where julie was showing landon the magnets on the fridge. “anyway, we got landon a pool. minor issue though, louie kind of thinks that it’s for him because that’s what we had to tell trevor.”

“like a kiddie pool?” you ask and griffin clicks his tongue. you raise an eyebrow, sparing a glance towards your son when he squeals, “you know he’s not even five months old yet, right?”

“he can sit in it and splash around though. he loves doing that. i’ve bathed him before and it’s got to be his top three favorite activities along with eating and screaming at me,” griffin rolls his eyes and you smirk.

“i mean, he doesn’t have any of those swim diaper things-”

“and that’s exactly why we bought him some. don’t even try to argue with me right now, y/n. he is getting into the damn pool,” griffin argues and julie reaches over to smack him on the back of the head. “sorry, but you get my point.”

“i guess i do,” you stretch your arms before standing up. “let me go and change him.”

“i hid the diapers in the back of my closet,” you send griffin a questioning look. he shrugs, “i’m running out of places to hide baby things okay.”

you swallow thickly as a quietness takes over the room. you knew that you were asking a lot of them to keep such a big secret from their son and brother and that weighed heavily on you.

the silence is broken by landon who sputters and you grin as you take him from julie. you tickle his side and he giggles, “are you blowing bubbles, buddy? you’re so cool.”

he rests his head on your shoulder as you walk towards griffin’s room. his fingers curl in your shirt as he takes a deep breath. you find the diapers exactly where griffin had said they would be (along with what you were sure was going to be your birthday present and a few other questionable items) and lay landon down on griffin’s bed.

louie had slipped in behind you and had easily jumped on griffin’s bed as well, planting himself beside the four-month-old. his wet nose touches landon’s temple and he squeals in response. you push louie back gently, “careful, lou. i know he’s your person but you can’t be smelling him like that. it freaks him out.”

louie huffs but lays his head down regardless, watching you carefully. you take him out of his outfit and change his diaper for one of the swim ones. you blow a raspberry on his stomach and he grabs at your hair, “are you so excited to get in your pool?”

you heard some conversation coming from the kitchen and some footsteps heading towards where you were. you pick landon up, assuming that it was ava or griffin, and pat at louie’s head when he walks up to you. the door opens and you don’t turn around as you speak, “honestly griffin, if it’s any consolation, i think he dislikes louie as much as he dislikes you.”

when there’s no response, you turn around to find that it wasn’t griffin who was standing at the door. trevor’s eyes are almost blazing as he looks between you and landon, connecting the dots. you wrap your arm tighter around your son, “he’s not yours.”

“bullshit,” trevor booms and you look away. “if it’s not mine, whose is it then?”

“i-” you can’t even formulate a sentence and he scoffs.

“that’s what i thought,” he shakes his head and scoffs. you avoid his eyes, “when?”

“if we’re going to talk about this, can we please not do it in front of him,” you pull your son’s head into your shoulder, trying to shield him from the view of his father who was rightfully angry with you. “griffin was going to put him in the pool. let me take him out there and then you can go off on me.”

silently, he steps aside to let you walk back into the kitchen. julie and griffin are sharing the same nervous look as you round the corner. ava makes the unfortunate decision to come down the stairs at that point. “what’s going- uh-oh.”

“my god, is there anyone in this house that didn’t know besides me?” everyone’s silence gives him the answer to his question. “great, okay. the fucking dog knew before i did.”

“trevor-” julie starts and you shake your head.

you hand landon off to griffin who has a bottle of baby sunscreen in front of him. you rub at landon’s soft cheek as he looks at you curiously, knowing that your mood was off. you don’t look at griffin as you speak, “take pictures for me, yeah? he loves water.”

“of course,” griffin says before getting everyone to follow him outside. ava sends you a look and julie mouths an apology before the doors close and you’re left alone with trevor for — what you come to realize — is the first time in a year.

still not speaking to you, he starts up the stairs to his bedroom and you follow behind, shutting the door behind you. you stand there awkwardly, playing with your fingers as you look around. it hadn’t changed since the last time you had been in it, which was the night that you were almost certain you got pregnant.

he turns and looks at you, gesturing to his bed, “you can sit down. you’re not a stranger here.”

you know that it wasn’t meant to be a reference to what you two used to do, but your cheeks still burn as you sit on the edge of his bed. you look at him then, only to find him already staring at you. you shrug your shoulders, “what do you want to know?”

“it’s mine?” he asks again and you nod.

“he’s a boy, so please stop saying ‘it.’ call him landon if you want.”

“you always wanted a boy,” trevor mumbles and you couldn’t help but grin because it was true. ever since you were little you had said time and time again that you wanted at least one boy and even though he came earlier in your life than you had planned, you were grateful that he had. “when were you gonna tell me about him?”

“honestly, trev, never,” you say and he lets out a long breath. he takes a seat at his desk chair and rubs his hands over his face, “i thought that it was for the best-”

“keeping my son from me was what you thought was best?” he looks at you incredulously. “are you serious?”

“if you’re going to shout at me, i’m leaving. i understand that you’re upset and you have every right to be, but i’m not going to sit here and be yelled at,” you announce and he mumbles an apology under his breath. “be honest with me, trevor. are you ready to be a father right now? with everything going on in your life, are you ready for that responsibility at nineteen?”

he seems to think about it, “not really.”

“okay then. our problem is solved,” you shrug.

“y/n, i want my son to know me. he needs his dad.”

“you just said that you weren’t ready to be his dad, trevor. what’s the truth? because i’m not going to have you be in and out of his life whenever you pick and choose. that’s not good or stable for him. he’s four months old, what he needs is stability,” you never thought that at eighteen years old, you would be having a conversation about what was in the best interest of your child, but here you were.

“were you ready to be a mother at eighteen? no, but you got ready to be one. i can do it too if you’ll just let me,” he rolls his chair over in front of you and reaches for your hand. his hand was warm and so were his eyes as you looked into them, searching for any hint of untruthfulness.

you had known trevor and griffin since you were all babies, you in the middle age-wise given that trevor was a year older than you and griffin almost a year younger. you had grown up neighbors and while you had moved a few miles away, your friendship remained. you had grown closer with griffin rather than trevor because as he had gotten older and his talent showed more and more, he was gone more.

“do you want to meet him?” is your rebuttal and trevor wastes no time in nodding his head. he pushes himself away from you which allows you to stand and walk towards his door. “just be aware he doesn’t really care for strangers. he’s still warming up to griffin.”

he follows you down the stairs and out onto the back porch. julie and griffin are there along with louie who is staring curiously at landon. griffin looks at you and smirks, “he doesn’t understand why he’s having to share the pool.”

“he’s greedy,” you shake your head before squatting down beside your son. you grin at him as he splashed his hand in the water, “hi bubba. there’s someone i want you to meet.”

he makes a shrill noise as you pick him up. you accept a towel from julie to dry him off as you walk over to where trevor had taken a seat on the bench. you sit beside him, adjusting landon’s hat on his head, “landon, this is trevor. trevor, this is landon.”

“hi,” trevor says, the biggest grin that you had ever seen taking over his face. landon looks between you and trevor before flailing his arm around. trevor looks at you uncertainly, “could i hold him?”

“of course,” you grin. you carefully hand landon over, holding your breath for his reaction. trevor stands him up on his legs, bouncing him just slightly. landon starts to pout and you frown, “he’s-”

“hey landon,” trevor says quietly and landon tilts his head. his hand squeezes the bracelet on trevor’s wrist. he starts to move his legs and trevor looks at you confused.

“he likes you, i think. strangers don’t usually make it this far,” you shrug your shoulders.

“that’s good then,” he smiles. landon lurches forward and he’s quick to steady him. “he looks just like me.”

“you are his dad, trev,” you look at trevor to gauge his reaction. you can hear julie when she takes a deep breath griffin laugh, but you focus on trevor.

“yeah, i am,” trevor laughs. to your surprise, landon lays his head on trevor’s shoulder and trevor looks at you again, “i think he likes me.”

griffin doesn’t miss a beat before chiming in, “well that’s just not fucking fair. i’ve known him longer than you!”

-

the anaheim conversation wasn’t one that you could avoid. it’s not that you were trying to, of course, it’s just that in the two weeks since trevor had known about his son, he had been solely focused on learning him and letting landon get acclimated to him being around, which the five-month-old had done quickly.

“so,” trevor asks one day as landon lays on his chest, knocked out for his afternoon nap. you had warned trevor about letting landon fall asleep on him, but trevor didn’t seem to mind being glued to one place for a couple of hours. “what about college? where are you going?”

“nowhere yet,” you sigh, turning your attention away from the movie that was playing, “i’m taking some time off so that i can raise him. i know that if i started now, i wouldn’t be able to focus and give him the attention that he needs.”

“that’s responsible,” he makes a face.

“i had to grow up fast, trevor. it’s not just me that my decisions affect now. i have to make the decisions that i think are best for him in the long run,” you stare at your son curled on his father’s chest. his fingers gripped the fabric of trevor’s t-shirt as a pacifier bobbed between his lips.

“well, i’ve been thinking and i want to get your opinion on something,” he was nervous, you could tell. his hand rubs up landon’s back as he looks towards you, “i- well, i know that two weeks ago i didn’t even know that he existed, but now i can’t imagine not being with him.”

“well he’s your son trevor,” you curl your toes into his thigh under the blanket you were sharing, “that’s normal.”

“i know that, but i don’t want to be away from him. what i’m asking is, would you be willing to come to anaheim with me when i go? whenever that may be,” he chuckles as landon twitches in his sleep.

“you want him to go with you? trevor i can’t-”

“no, no,” trevor shakes his head, “i want him to come with me of course, but i want you to come, too. i want you both with me. we can be together, a family.”

“a family?” you repeat and he grins, confirming with a nod. “are you sure?”

“i’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, y/n. i want to have a life with you,” the hand that rested on landon’s back moves and reaches out towards you. you grab onto his hand and he squeezes, “what do you think?”

“i think that sounds amazing.”

and for a while it did.

both your mother and trevor’s were hesitant given how young you both were, but they slowly came to terms when they figured out neither of you were changing your minds.

you made it to anaheim a few weeks after trevor had and began to settle into the apartment he had gotten for the two of you. it was in a safe place and it had paths to take landon on walks which were at the top of the list that you had given him.

landon loved going down to the beach and letting the sand fall through his fingers. your heart swelled every time he would pick some up and look at you like it was the most amazing thing in the world, which to him it probably was.

your time was mostly spent with landon alone which you couldn’t be upset about because a major part of trevor’s job was to travel, but when he started spending his nights elsewhere when he wasn’t gone on a road trip, that’s when things started falling apart.

you didn’t want to be the partner who asked him where he going every time that he left out of the front door, but when you had to watch him get ready for the third night in a row, that’s when you spoke up, “where are you going?”

“out,” was his response. he pulls out a jacket from the closet and turned to look at you, “why?”

“because you’ve been home for four days and you’ve gone out every night, trevor,” you lean against the doorway as he slips on his shoes. “i shouldn’t have to ask you to stay home and see your son.”

“he’s asleep, y/n. he’s not even going to notice that i’m gone,” he shakes his head and you let him leave the bedroom before following him down the hall. “it’s not that big of a deal.”

“it is when you don’t come back until the morning and you leave before he wakes up. then you come back during his nap and only see him for a few hours before you’re gone again,” your eyes follow his fingers as they grab his keys from the hook. he pulls open the door and you utter the words that make your stomach twist, “i promise you, if you walk out of that door, i’m not going to be here when you get back.”

he gives you his attention then and you can tell by the look in his eyes that he was thinking about it, whether you were serious or not, but not a moment later does he shake his head and let the door close behind him, letting you know his decision.

you could hear his car door slam before he starts the engine, pulling out of the driveway to wherever the hell he would rather spend his time. you stand there frozen as your world crumbles around you. you feel the tears well up in your eyes and you wipe them away.

he wasn’t worth it.

you grab your phone, dialing your mother’s number and leaning against the couch for stability. she answers almost immediately and you feel bad because you still had not adjusted to the time difference between the east and west coasts, “can i come home for a little bit?”

“what happened?” you hear her rustling in the background.

“i’m just- i’m tired mom. i don’t want to be here anymore and i’m sure he doesn’t want us here either,” you leave out the major details, knowing what it would do to her. you really were not in the mood to hear her tell you that she was right.

“let me catch a flight out there and i’ll drive back with you, okay?”

“i need to leave now, mom. i don’t want to be here when he gets back,” you explain, and after much back and forth and though apprehensively, she agrees not to book a flight.

you don’t feel anything as you pack your bag, careful not to mess with trevor’s things. it’s when you walk into landon’s room and find him sleeping so peacefully, so unaware of what was happening in his little world that you let the tears fall down your face. you pack your car before you get him out of his crib, making sure to grab his favorite stuffed animal and blanket before closing the door behind you. you walk through the kitchen making sure that you had what you needed before walking out of the front door for the last time.

you didn’t leave a note, your key and a pacifier on the kitchen counter was the only goodbye that he would get from you.

you were thankful that landon was a heavy sleeper. he barely stirred as you buckled him into his car seat or shut the door. you put in your mother’s home address before putting your car in reverse.

you were almost to colorado when your phone started ringing, his name popping up at the top of your screen. you couldn’t block him until you stopped for breakfast, not reading any of the texts he had sent or listening to any of the voicemails he left.

landon laughs as you feed him a bite of pancake, throwing a crayon on the ground. you set your phone down and look at him with a smile, wondering how something so sweet could just make you forget everything wrong in your life.

-

you swallow, “why do you think that i left, trevor?”

“i don’t know, y/n. i’ve been asking myself that question for a week now and i can’t come up with an answer that makes sense. we were fine and then you were gone,” he looks confused and hurt, emotions that you had grown to know all too well. emotions that he himself had caused.

“you can’t be serious,” you shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “how long did you think i’d let it go on? or are you just that full of yourself that you didn’t even see what you were doing to us? what you were doing to your son?”

“i don’t understand-”

“when you found out about landon, you made a promise to me that you would be a father, that it would take some time, and i believed you. i left everything to follow you to anaheim when you asked me to so that we could be together as a family, but it was the worst mistake that i have ever made,” you go quiet as your coffee is sat in front of you. you don’t touch the sandwich. “you genuinely can’t think that i was going to stay with the way that you were behaving.

“you have a child, trevor. you can’t just come and go as you please. every decision that you make, it affects him even when it doesn’t seem like it. that was something that i had to learn quickly.

“i was eighteen when he was born. i missed out on my entire senior year and going to college with my friends to raise him and i didn’t complain, not once. you got to have a senior year. you got to go to college without having to worry about someone else. you were one-track-minded on playing hockey, but that should’ve changed the moment that you found out about landon. instead, you decide to fuck off with your friends to new hampshire instead of going to your son’s doctor’s appointment and you didn’t even tell me. i had to find out from your mom when you wouldn’t answer my phone calls, trevor,” you scoff, looking at the wall behind him, “i should’ve backed out then.”

“i’m twenty years old, y/n,” he looks at you like he was shocked at your admission. “i want to go out and have fun.”

“and you think that i don’t? you aren’t understanding, trevor. we have a child. he depends on us. we can’t just run around and be kids anymore, we have a gigantic responsibility. you don’t get to stop being a parent just because going out with your teammates is more fun. believe me, i would love to go out with my friends whenever i wanted to, but i can’t.”

“i have to establish myself-”

“was it worth losing your family?” you ask and he freezes. you raise an eyebrow, “was going out for drinks and to play video games with your teammates worth losing your family, trevor? i want to know.”

“what do you mean ‘losing my family’?”

“did you think that i was going to come back and pretend like nothing happened? that we could just go on with our lives?” he gives you a ‘duh’ look. “i know you. if i did come back, you would keep doing the same shit and we would keep fighting. it’s a vicious fucking cycle and that’s not the environment that i want my son to grow up in and you shouldn’t want that for him either.

“i promise that i’m not going to keep him from you, i would never do that. i know that you love him and he loves you too, but i think that it’s in his best interest that we don’t play pretend because that’s going to mess him up in the long run.”

“so that’s it then?” he asks.

“the only thing changing is that i’m not going to be there when you get home-”

he interrupts you with an annoyed look, “or that we’re together.”

“were we ever together? or were we just fuck buddies who put on a show for everyone?” you ask and he avoids your eyes. “deep down, you have to know that we’re no good for each other and this is for the best. i’m not trying to hurt you, but you’re not ready for this and that’s obvious.”

he watches you as you push your chair back and grab your things, “what do you want me to do then? if you’re staying here.”

you spare him a final glance as you shrug your shoulder, “trevor, what i want is for you to figure your shit out, but i’m just tired of waiting for you to do it. you wanted your freedom and i’m giving it to you. have fun, trev. be twenty. that’s what you’ve always wanted to do anyway and now you don’t have us to worry about anymore.”

though you weren’t even sure that he ever did.

[prettyboymichaels-ao3]

Rewind, Rewire, Reword - Chapter 1: Where Did I Put That Map Again? (Pt. 1)

It’s the week before Wrestlemania 12, he’s preparing to give Shawn Michaels the fight of his life in their 60-minute Iron Man match, and his little brother has decided to drag him out to socialize on an otherwise perfectly ordinary Wednesday night.

Surely, this decision won’t take the course his life was on – and the course his relationship with Shawn was on – and send it into a tailspin.

(Bret Hart/Shawn Michaels ABO AU; NOT Kayfabe Compliant; Words: ~2k; Rating: M; Notes, trigger warning/s, tag list, and chapter under the cut!)

my massive bretshawn abo au is here! as I only have two-ish more scenes to write, and 10 chapters already written to publish on here (separated into smaller “parts” for tumblr, which means I technically have 21 chapters; they’ll be published fully on ao3), I’ve decided to try for an every other day publishing schedule to give myself more time to fully finish this book of the series. so. :) I’ve read and edited and reread and re-edited this more than almost any other fic I’ve written, so HOPEFULLY. I don’t want to edit it MORE after finally PUBLISHING it. sigh. anyway.

-

tw for: attempted sexual assault. it doesn’t actually occur, but this IS the jumping off point for the fic, and it will be referenced throughout. the tw “references to attempted sexual assault” will be used in any chapter that references it

tag list: @track12to13​; @piratewithvigor​; @sinderellanightwolf​. tell me if you want to be tagged for any future chapters!

-

It was times like these when he wondered why he ever bothered going out at all.

They’d gotten to California two days before, early, the way they usually did, leaving the morning after their last match to get a head start and not arrive completely burnt out. They’d spent those two days getting acquainted with their hotel room, their rental car, and the stadium gym they were going to be using the next two weeks. However, “California” didn’t just mean “new match”, it also meant “new towns”, which meant “new opportunities to make Bret socialize”. He’d told Owen, repeatedly, in a variety of ways, that the last thing he needed was a fucking wingman, let alone his happily mated younger brother as a wingman, but he’d just brushed off everything he’d said and dragged him out anyway. “You have almost two weeks to prepare,” he’d scoffed, forcing him to change basically as soon as they got back to their room. “When’s the last time you really let loose?” he’d offered, trying to hustle him out almost before he’d had his shoes tied. “I promised mom I’d try something the last time we talked so would you stop digging your heels in, please,” was his final explanation, as he was hailing a cab to take them out of the city and to some smaller town a little less than an hour away, where they’d be less likely to get recognized, because getting mobbed in a bar or a club was always… not great, to say the least.

But it just really wasn’t Bret’s scene. It just really, really wasn’t. He wasn’t twenty anymore, he couldn’t power through a hangover the way he used to, and he wasn’t in the mood anyway, the way he hadn’t been for the last two years Owen’d been trying to set him up. He’d gotten used to being single by now, he’d even gotten used to his mother’s passive aggressive comments about it every time he called home, and, yeah, being used to it didn’t mean he liked it, but trying to find a date at this point in his life wasn’t exactly easy, at thirty-eight years old, in his line of work, with his designation. Honestly, he didn’t know why Owen was still trying so earnestly; the odds of Bret finding a decent prospective partner at some random club in Somewhere, California was so low it might as well be in the ground.

As such, instead of socializing, the way Owen wanted him to, he’d nursed a glass or two at the bar, had a fairly interesting conversation with an older woman who happened to be the designated driver for a group of girls giggling on the dance floor, and eventually called it quits after hitting the bathroom two hours in. It wasn’t even ten-thirty yet, you’d think he could last a little longer, and he could, he was just… bored. His bar mate was corralling her wayward group to leave, and Owen was having a grand time failing miserably at darts with what looked to be a group of regulars, so he just told him he was heading back to the hotel, refused to be guilted into a game no matter how many times Owen batted his eyelashes or how disappointed he looked, paid his tab, and slipped out into the night with a sigh and his hands deep in the pockets of his jacket. It was only slightly cooler outside than it was inside, and it was much less crowded – a few smokers, on the other side of the street, and two people eating a pizza and using the box as their plate a little further down from that. Definitely less busy than Anaheim would be this time of night, and equally less well lit.

There was also, though, something he almost didn’t hear over the noise of the bar:

“…an’t change your mind now!”

“I agreed to go home with you, not you and your fucking friend–”

His foot still raised from where he’d been stepping to the curb to hail a cab, he cocked his head to the alleyway the voices had drifted from – and, there it was, he hadn’t been hearing things, because there was an incredulous laugh, a dull thump, and a pained grunt before another man said, amused, speaking over the rising growls, “C’mon, baby, you really think you’re in a position to turn us down? You’re the one about to go into heat, it won’t matter whose knot you’re taking soon enough.”

Bret was moving before the end of that sentence, rounding the corner to find three figures pressed up against the stone wall beside an open dumpster. They were mostly hidden from the orange street lamps outside the mouth of the alley, but he could still see rough impressions, and they weren’t very promising: two holding the third prone while the third tried to fight back, thrashing and almost snarling with how viciously he was growling, but he was getting nowhere fast, with how successfully he was being restrained. One’s nose was buried in this man’s throat, the other’s teeth visible in the low light as he grinned, and Bret felt his expression twist and harden as he stepped forward. “Hey! You’ve got three seconds to walk away before I make this a fair fight.”

That certainly got their attention, and he saw them all turn his way, their eyes flashing a little in the dark. Parts of their faces were highlighted now – the barest crests of their jaws, their cheekbones, their hair – but he could see the moment their nostrils flared and he was written off as nothing but a nuisance, which was only confirmed when one of them scoffed. “Run away, little beta, this doesn’t concern you.”

And then he turned right back around to continue scenting the man, the omega, who headbutted him so hard in the nose Bret could hear it crack from here. The man howled, staggering away and clutching at his gushing face with both hands, and Bret watched as the omega took advantage of the other man’s stunned disbelief to kick his legs out from under him and send him tumbling to the ground.

Bret didn’t waste any time. He stalked forward, hauling the one on the ground up by the collar of his coat and the waistband of his pants so he could toss him bodily into the open dumpster. The open, empty dumpster, if the clang of metal and yelp of pain were anything to go by. There was a choked off squeal from behind him, and he turned just in time to watch the omega’s leg come back down and the second perpetrator crumple into the fetal position, clutching his groin. That one quickly joined his friend in the dumpster, courtesy of Bret, and the groans and squeaks that resulted from that collision were incredibly satisfying.

He wiped his hands on his jeans before turning back to the omega, raising his hands placatingly when he, too, was met with a sharp, threatening growl. “Hey. You okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

There was an extended moment of silence. “…Bret?”

Oh, perfect, he’d been recognized– …Wait. He knew that voice. He squinted, edging closer, and fuck, now that his eyes had adjusted a little–

“…Shawn?!”

When it sounded like the men in the dumpster were starting to try and gather their bearings, Bret put his hand on – on Shawn’s shoulder and pushed him out of the alley and past the bar, letting his hand fall away and trusting Shawn to follow him as he lead them past another two buildings to turn the corner onto another block, and then a little further still, directly under a street light, far enough to see them coming if they tried it. After getting their asses handed to them so thoroughly, not just by their intended victim but by a little beta to boot, the alphas shouldn’t come sniffing around looking for seconds, but you could never be too careful.

“Jesus, Shawn, what the hell was that?” he hissed, shrugging his jacket off and settling it over Shawn’s shoulders in one fluid motion.

Or he would have, if the man didn’t take an immediate step back and bare his teeth at him, rubbing his arms. Bret scowled. “Can you stop being so stubborn for two seconds–”

“I’m two seconds from kicking you in the fucking balls, Bret, don’t test me,” Shawn barked, taking another step back for good measure. His voice was hoarser than it usually was, and Bret was a little worried about what he’d do if it cracked.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, sucked in a breath through his mouth, and blew it out through his nostrils. “Look,” he settled on, staring at Shawn hard, who stared right back. In the orange light illuminating them, he could more clearly see his rumpled clothes, his wrecked hair, his blotchy face, but if he could compare him to anything right now it’d be a cornered animal. “Just – put it under your nose, okay? I know I don’t have much of a scent, but it’s gotta be better than whatever the fuck they were giving off.”

Shawn scoffed, but flexed his fingers from where they were clutching at his biceps, moving his eyes to his jacket. “Gee, when’s the last time you took a high school health class?”

“In high school, asshole, now take it.”

Shawn curled his lip, looking ready to keep arguing, but, shifting his weight on his feet, decided it wasn’t worth the effort, and snatched the jacket from Bret instead. He paused once he had it, glaring at him like he was expecting him to say something, and when Bret just crossed his arms and gave him a look, he finally shoved it under his nose and took a deep breath. Half the tension in his body released in one fell swoop, and with it came a hitch as he buried his face in the leather completely, his hands starting to shake.

Bret, deciding to give him a modicum of privacy, looked behind Shawn to make sure they hadn’t been followed (they hadn’t) and moved to the curb to finally hail a cab. Two of them passed, occupied, before he heard Shawn move up next to him, his jacket still stuffed under his nose. His eyes were a little red, and a little wet, but his cheeks were dry. “I wanna puke,” he rasped, muffled into the leather, and Bret gave a humorless snort.

“If you’re gonna, do it here,” he said, waving at another taxi, and this one actually responded, starting to pull up. “I sure as hell don’t wanna smell it all the way back to Anaheim.”

That earned him a grumble, more lighthearted than anything he’d heard out of Shawn’s mouth tonight, and Bret hid his relief by walking around the idling cab to talk to the driver at his window, digging out his wallet. “You got a divider?”

“Sure do, brother,” the cabbie told him, jerking his thumb to the backseat and the tinted glass that separated him from it. “Got some wet wipes back there, too. Just don’t leave any stains, huh?”

Bret frowned, because that made it all too clear what he thought they were planning on doing in his backseat, but threw a handful of twenties into the driver’s lap anyway, enough to make his eyes widen comically. “That’s to get us to Anaheim. There’s more where that came from if you get us there in forty.”

“Hell, brother, I’ll get you there in thirty,” the cabbie exclaimed, and Bret straightened back up after giving him the hotel’s address, waving at Shawn to get in on his side, which he did one-handed, slamming the door behind him as Bret followed suit. The divider deafened the cabbie’s music to a low rumble, and, as they pulled off, Bret started digging around in the mesh pocket attached to the back of the driver’s seat until he emerged with the aforementioned wet wipes. He tore the pack open, pulling half of them out in one go and passing them over to Shawn, who took them automatically with the hand that wasn’t holding Bret’s jacket to his nose, but gave him a look that said he had no idea what Bret was trying to do here.

He gestured to his own throat. “For your scent glands,” he explained, and he could see the moment the light went off, because Shawn started scrubbing at either side of his neck like a man possessed. Bret used the rest of the wipes to clean his own hands and stuffed them into his pocket after he was done, sinking back against the creaky plastic seats like they might swallow him up, lack of give or no.

[synnefo-nefeli]

Working on a WIP scene for Heard Your Heart Beating, my Klapollo friends to lovers post AA5, slow-burn fic

___

//Come fix your prosecutor// read Athena’s text. Apollo groaned wondering what Klavier could have done in the hour Klavier had spent at the WAA.

He adjusted his tie in the mirror of his locker, checked to make sure that he no longer looked sweaty from his ride over from court, and shoved his cycling outfit into his locker along with his helmet.

He could hear laughing on the other side of the office’s front door so that was a good sign, he hoped, as he swiped his keycard through the lock.

“Herr Forehead has finally arrived from his battle with the courts!” Klavier beamed at him with the smile that Apollo was now coming to call “on-stage-mode”. Klavier was sitting on the sofa next to Athena, coffee cups and tea biscuits between them on the table.

He could hear Mr. Wright bustling in the office kitchenette.

“I am back,” Apollo announced, “...and I survived Blackquill-“

“Oh, is that the reason you biked back? Simon didn’t offer to give you a lift?” Athena laughed, “how mean. He needs to learn to leave it in the courtroom.”

Apollo rolled his eyes, “Probably, but I am sure it has more to do with him needing to go down to the precinct and yell at the poor detective who sent him into court with an outdated autopsy report...also, what would I have done with my bike? I don’t want to ruin the guy’s new car by stashing it in the back seat.”

Mr. Wright arrived from the kitchen, fresh pot of coffee in hand, “Wow. A defense attorney having an updated report instead of the prosecution? Never thought I’d see the day...”

Apollo flopped on the couch opposite Athena and Klavier, “Hey. Miracles do happen...and considering all of our court win-streak, we shouldn’t be too surprised that they exist.”

“Here. Here.” Klavier said amiably into his coffee looking as if he was about to attempt to change the subject. Oh, Klavier wasn’t getting away from whatever occurred before Apollo arrived so easily,

“So... what’s this about me needing to fix ‘my prosecutor’?”

Klavier made an amused expression, “Ah, is that what I am called? Well I am honored to be Herr Justice’s”

Athena rolled her eyes, “Oh stop with the charm-“ she looked at Apollo, “he doesn’t want you to know that he’s never been to the Tragic Kingdom”

Apollo stared at Klavier, “Seriously?” which earned Klavier a playful elbow to the ribs from Athena, “Told you he would react like that”

Klavier sighed, “Is it really that big of a deal? Not going to a children’s amuse-“

“HOLD IT!” Apollo didn’t care that everyone about him flinched (“Indoor voice, Polly, jeeze”, Mr. Wright muttered”), “Disneyland is for everyone,” Apollo breathed, “you seriously haven’t gone? Ever? I mean...it’s only in Anaheim. That’s less than an hour without traffic from here-“

Mr. Wright handed Apollo a cup of coffee, “It’s been a while since ‘Mr. Disney Adult’’s shown his face at the office.”

“You say that as if you don’t have an annual pass too, Mr. Wright.”

Klavier appeared lost in the conversation; it was refreshing to see Mr. Tall, Blonde and Unflappable looking out of his depth, “Is it really a big deal that I haven’t?”

“Mm...not so much,” Mr. Wright said before Apollo could object, “well it wouldn’t be a big deal if you were hanging out with someone else, but I mean considering that you two have been spending a lot of time outside of court together, I think it’s more shocking that Apollo *hasn’t* dragged you down there already.

“You act like I go there all the time-“

“Says the person who has scheduled himself to come in late on days where there are morning annual passholder events,” Athena mused, “or how about the time you, Clay and Trucy, just decided to go to Disneyland after work because you wanted corndogs for dinner”

Across from him Klavier made a face, as if silently saying “Corndogs for dinner? Really? What are you, five?”.

Apollo met ‘his prosecutor’s’ eyes, “Those corndogs are legendary, and the only ones I’ll eat,” he rebutted, not caring that Klavier hadn’t actually said anything.

“He has a point there,” agreed Mr. Wright, “so I guess the big question is- how long before Klavier gets pulled into driving Apollo down to Anaheim?”

Klavier looked around the room at all of the other attorneys as if expecting for someone to tell him suddenly that this was all an act. Apollo meanwhile was mentally running through his calendar to figure out when he would have time to properly take Klavier to the park. There was so much to do at work-not to mention, he would have to prep Klavier for his first park visit.

“Do you like amusement parks?” Apollo asked Klavier.

The blonde man simply shrugged, “I’ve only been to a few in my life. Mein family wasn’t really into things like theme parks; didn’t see the value in them as entertainment. And when I moved here, I just didn’t go-“

“Not even grad-night?” Athena asked, “Junie told me that’s what the student council is setting up for the seniors. It’s tradition. Heck, every high school in Southern California does a school trip there at least once.”

Klavier shrugged, “I graduated early, remember? I guess I could have gone to the ceremony with the class that was graduating that year, but I wanted to get mein badge so I went home as soon as I could to pass the bar in Germany.”

“There’s one in France!”

Klavier sighed, “If I asked to do anything outside of museums and cultural experiences while we were in France, I would have been left in Germany.”

“Anyway,” Athena said, “If you’re going to hang with Polly, you’re going to have to go to the parks eventually-“

Apollo felt his cheeks heat, “I mean if that’s not what you like to do for fun, you don’t have to-“

“Oh please,” Mr. Wright interrupted, “I can confidently bet that you’ve been sitting here this entire time planning a trip for him.”

Apollo crossed his arms and sat back in defeat as Athena continued to regale Klavier with anecdotes of the WAA’s trips to the parks as well as Apollo’s impromptu visits,

“Has he shown you his pin collection yet?” Athena said in a tone that was too close to the tone she liked to use whenever she teased Apollo about his and Klavier relationship not being as platonic as Apollo made them seem.

//As if she doesn’t know the actual truth// Apollo grumbled, “Okay enough. Klavier already knows I am a nerd- he doesn’t need any more evidence about it”

“Ach you’re always cool, Herr Forehead,” Klavier smiled again in “on-stage mode”, which made Apollo decide that he needed to show Klavier what he was missing.

“When’s your birthday?” Apollo blurted.

Athena groaned, “Oh my god, Apollo, haven’t you heard of Wikipedia?”

“I like that Herr Forehead doesn’t feel the need to research me, it makes a rock god like me feel practically human,” Klavier teased and then with an amiable grin, “May 23rd.

However-I told you that on Valentine’s Day, don’t you remember?” He said a little too suggestively for Apollo’s comfort,

“I’m hurt that you don’t remember… and here I thought things that were shared during sleepovers were sacred,” he added a pout for good measure.

Out of the corner of his eye, Apollo saw Athena not-so-subtly pull out of her phone to text something, most certainly to Trucy.

Great, he was not going to know peace from either of them for the foreseeable future.

Although, Apollo appreciated that Athena had the grace to attempt to hide her grin.

Whether or not Klavier was aware of what was happening next to him, Klavier only sipped at his coffee.

“So in three weeks. Great, guess what we’re doing to celebrate your 26th birthday,” Apollo announced.

“It’s on a workday.”

“Take off.”

“Don’t you have to work?” Klavier asked

Apollo turned to Mr. Wright, “Mr. Wright, may I have the 23rd off?”

“Of course. Just put it on the calendar.”

Apollo, having won the debate, smiled smugly at Klavier, “Get ready, we have a lot to do before then.”

Klavier looked genuinely confused, “Like what?!”

He was about to ask what Klavier’s favorite Disney movie was, but then Athena’s phone buzzed, “Simon’s here- he needs help bringing up the food...and Trucy says she wants to also go to Disneyland for Klavier’s birthday, I think that’s a good idea; what do you think, boss?,”

Before Apollo could say anything about Athena or Trucy inviting themselves, Mr. Wright smiled and said,

“You know what- unless something pressing comes up and Trucy doesn’t have any projects or tests at school, I think the agency needs a mental health day. Maybe Miles and Prosecutor Blackquill need one too,” he remarked walking towards his office in order to most likely call his fiancé.

Finally alone- sort of. At least until Athena and Prosecutor Blackquill came upstairs with the food. But still, alone enough to enjoy Klavier silently trying to figure out what the hell just happened...or Apollo would have enjoyed Klavier’s genuinely flummoxed expression, except that he remembered how Klavier, despite his celebrity status, didn’t like to draw attention too himself unless it was in court or on stage- and especially not in public.

It was the reason Klavier hadn’t shown up to Clay’s funeral after all. He looked at Klavier feeling guilty for putting his friend on the spot,

“Sorry, if you don’t want to- we don’t have to-“

“Nein, nein,” Klavier said with his genuine smile, “you all are so passionate about it, now I have to experience it”

“Are you sure? I didn’t even ask if that’s how you wanted to spend your birthday-I just kinda got caught up in it.”

Klavier shrugged, “Honestly, considering that I usually spent the last few dragged to stuffy VIP lounges of clubs I wasn’t interested in, with people who, as it turned out, cared less about me- I think this may be a gut change of pace.”

Well that made him feel better...and a bit sad for Klavier, “I’ll make sure you have a good time and we won’t be overwhelmed. A lot of celebrities go to Disneyland, and they don’t get mobbed- people are pretty respectful of celebrities having their time in the parks.”

“You sound as if you are familiar.”

“Clay...worked there for a summer, celebrities would come all the time as park guests. And aside from maybe helping a celebrity escape a crowd, they don’t give anyone special treatment unless they’ve paid for a guided tour-“

“Oh- are we not doing that, Herr Forehead?”

Apollo snorted,“Hell no, you’re going to stand in line for Space Mountain like the rest of us plebes.” Also I’m not about to suggest we spend $800 an hour for a theme park tour...

Klavier’s laugh was enough to make Apollo feel better and better about commandeering Klavier’s birthday. He was going to look forward to these next few weeks in getting Klavier ready for his first time at the park. The thought of movie nights made Apollo feel a bit warm inside. Warm in a way that he hadn’t felt since Klavier had comforted him during his own birthday.

The office door opened, Athena holding it open so that Simon could come through with the large box that contained their takeout dinners. Apollo braced himself for any barbed words from Athena’s prosecutor; considering how the day’s court proceedings had gone, Apollo expected some amount of sour grapes. Instead Simon ignore Apollo and incredulously regarded his co-worker with,

“You’ve seriously never been to Disneyland, Gavin-dono?”

***

[casbandicoot]

A short fluffy Destiel fanfic. Also my first fanfic:

“So Dean, now that you’ve defeated yet another vampire, what will you do next?” Sam grinned, accepting a beer from Dean’s outstretched hand and cracking it open.

“I’m gonna go to Disneyland!” Dean said, taking a long drink from his own bottle. His eyes fell on Cas as he said it, who was already staring intently at him in that way of his. At the last word, Cas’s eyebrows furrowed and his head tilted to the side.

“Why would you want to go to Disneyland?” Cas asked, stepping out the way as Sam walked past him and out of the kitchen to adjust the bunker’s thermostat.

Before he answered, Dean allowed himself one tiny moment to stare into the angel’s eyes. Not even living in the bunker together and seeing each other everyday lessened that strange, swooping feeling in his stomach when he did.

A flap of wings interrupted his thoughts, and Cas was gone.

Dean took a long pull from his beer, absentmindedly running his tongue along the bottle’s lip.

The beer was just finished by the time Cas came back. He started talking as soon as he heard the familiar swoop of wings.

“Cas, man, it was a joke.”

“A joke?” Cas replied slowly. He was still wearing his trench coat, but his dark messy hair was obscured. Dean barked a laugh. Cas was wearing a pair of Mickey ears.

“No!” Dean said as soon as Cas’s hand moved up to take them off. “Don’t. Keep ‘em on. It’s a good look for you.”

Cas slightly narrowed his eyes, but let his hand fall to his side.

“But you were joking about Disneyland,” he said seriously. Despite his best efforts, Dean couldn’t match Cas’s expression. He covered his mouth with his hand and tried not to look too long at the ears. “This is what people wear there. I don’t need it if we’re not going.”

Dean’s first instinct was to tell his friend that he was adorable, but he bit it back. This was his friend. Friends were good. More was not. But that didn’t mean he couldn't make the most of this. It was just a funny situation. That was it.

“Actually, you know what?” he said, involuntarily taking a step towards Cas. A tuft of dark brown hair was sticking out on the side of the angel’s head, displaced by the Mickey ears. Dean’s hand itched to adjust it. He shoved his hand into his jean pocket instead. “I always kinda wanted to go to Disneyland. See the old rat trap.”

“I think he’s a mouse, actually,” Cas said automatically.

“Right.”

The next morning, Dean and Cas had the Impala packed for California. Sam stood outside the car as they got in, waiting to wave them off.

When Dean had told Sam the night before that they were planning to go to Disneyland, he’d expected a totally different reaction. Actually, he hadn’t even expected a particular reaction. He was just surprised by the way Sam had responded, and he wasn’t sure he liked what Sam said.

“I’ve actually already been to Disneyland. Back when I was at Stanford,” Sam had said from his computer when Dean came into the room and jumped unceremoniously onto the bed.

“Well then you can be our tour guide, Sammy. I know you like to show off your knowledge of everything.” Sam rolled his eyes in response but didn’t bother to retort. Instead, he turned towards Dean and smiled conspiratorially.

“Besides, I think you and Cas could use a little vacation time alone. See what happens.”

Dean looked down at the bed, his face burning.

“What are you talking about, Sammy?” he had muttered, but Sam had just shaken his head and smiled.

Now Dean was avoiding Sam’s eyes as he lifted his hand in a weak wave and put the car in drive. He turned the radio up loud and shook off his thoughts, shooting Cas an easy smile as they drove away. His heart thumped when Cas smiled back.

They made it to Anaheim in less than 24 hours, since Cas could take the wheel while Dean slept in the passenger seat. By the time they started passing Disneyland billboards, Dean had to admit he was getting excited. The food at Disneyland was supposed to be awesome.

The plan was to find a motel in the city, but Dean found himself driving closer to the park anyway. Cas had been alive for eons and he’d never been to Disneyland. They had to do it right. So instead, Dean found himself pulling up to a giant hotel building that advertised free shuttle service to the parks.

“Give us a room with one queen,” he told the girl at the desk, adjusting the leather duffel bag on his shoulder. She was wearing a Nightmare Before Christmas Disneyland button on her suit jacket.

It wasn’t until she looked back and forth between Dean and Cas that Dean realized the implications of asking for one bed. It’s not like she would guess he was staying with an angel who didn’t need to sleep.

“I think couple’s trips to Disneyland are so romantic,” she said, smiling encouragingly at Cas. His eyebrows furrowed and he turned to look at Dean.

“He just wanted to go to Disneyland. His father never took him as a child,” Cas said, as if that explained anything. Dean rubbed his hand across the back of his neck, and it was starting to feel like he was on fire.

“Just give me the keys,” he said gruffly, smiling weakly at the girl as an afterthought when he realized how unfriendly he sounded. She never lost her friendly expression, handing him a little white envelope with two keycards inside. Dean’s stomach clenched when out of the corner of his eye he caught her wink at Cas as they left. What did she think this was, some kind of honeymoon?

He ignored the twinge of longing that the idea brought with it.

As soon as Dean opened the door of their room, a new tension settled in his shoulders. He’d be staying here alone. With Cas. At night. He barreled into the room, tossing his bag onto the bed and backing away from it while Cas followed his example.

“Let’s hit the rides, huh?” He said, slapping his hand on Cas’s shoulder.

“That is why we came,” Cas said neutrally, looking at Dean’s hand on his shoulder longer than was probably necessary. Dean swallowed, still feeling the warmth from Cas’s shoulder in his hand as he pulled away.

Son of a bitch.

The metal detector at the park’s front gates beeped, shrieking its protest as soon as Dean stepped through.

“Sorry, did you make sure and empty your pockets?” an employee in a khaki vest and skirt asked cheerily. Dean glanced at her nametag, written in blue Disney-style font.

“Listen, Maggie,” he said, putting on his most charming smile and making direct eye contact with her. “I got a couple things I need to have with me. It’s alright, I’m FBI.”

Cas stood on the other side of the gates, already having flown into the park. He’d offered to take Dean with him, but flying with Cas was an experience Dean preferred to save for never again. Now he realized he was dumb to turn down the opportunity. He caught his angel- the angel’s- eye, just slightly jerking his head back in a signal. Judging from the way Cas disappeared, Dean hoped he’d gotten the hint.

“Well, we actually don’t allow anyone to carry weapons, Sir,” Maggie said, her professionalism unswayed by Dean’s batting eyelashes.

“Fine, hang on.” Dean turned and left the way he came, walking back through the lines of people until he found Cas waiting for him.

“You should’ve let me carry you, Dean,” Cas said, raising his eyebrow.

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, ignoring curious and alarmed glances from passersby as he pulled out his gun and a knife and handed them to Cas. “Take care of these for me.” The sight of Cas tucking the weapons into his trenchcoat while wearing the Mickey ears again was too much. Dean gripped his shoulder in what he hoped was a casual gesture, chuckling. “Catch you in there.”

He got back in line, and this time he met Cas in the park.

“Put these on,” Cas said as he walked up, holding something at his side. Dean immediately resisted.

“I’m not wearing those,” he said, shoving the ears away from himself with his hand. They were normal ears, except they were covered in silver sparkles. “Those are for chicks.”

“They’re silver,” Cas said, shaking his head. “Like you use to kill a werewolf. You like silver.”

Dean didn’t know what to do with himself. Part of him recoiled in horror from the offending ears, but then there was the tiny voice in the back of his mind. The one that said Cas thought about what you’d like. He got them for you special. Cas was looking at him with his crystal blue eyes wide, waiting for his decision.

“Give me the damn things,” Dean sighed, shoving them onto his head.

They made their way through Mainstreet, weaving through the crowd. A sugary, vanilla smell filled the air. Cas’s hand brushed Dean’s as they walked, and Dean’s fingers twitched with the urge to hold it. He didn’t. But he didn’t move further away, either.

“You like pirates,” Cas said later, when they were walking through New Orleans Square. “I overheard people talking about the pirate ride. Do you want to do that one?”

“Hell yeah!” Dean replied, grabbing Cas’s arm and steering him towards the ride. It wasn’t necessary. Cas already knew where to go. But it was reason enough to touch him, and Dean was taking it.

The mild California weather made their time in the line easy, and Dean was happy just to talk to Cas. They rehashed their latest hunt and discussed where they might go in the future. On a whim, Dean took out his phone and snapped a picture of Cas. He stared at the result for a moment, thrilled to have a piece of the day forever. But he snapped back to attention when the line moved forward and he realized he had the real thing next to him, and didn’t need a picture.

They could smell the water and hear it splashing when the line made it indoors.

Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me!

Cas’s lips moved absently to the song that was playing, and Dean’s heart skipped. He knew the song because of Dean. Dean had forced him into a Pirates of the Caribbean marathon, and hadn’t been sure what Cas thought of it. He must’ve liked it if he remembered the song. His face erupted into a grin as he watched Cas and joined in, singing above the music.

“See?” he said, leaning into Cas’s ear as he did. “I have good taste.” He’d only leaned in to be heard over the music and the boats splashing in the water, but he froze when he smelled Cas’s hair. The smell was masculine, fresh, but sweet. He caught himself leaning in for another sniff and took a step back.

To his relief, they followed the line onto their boat, taking their seat on the two-person bench. It was dark, but Dean could’ve sworn he saw Cas scoot closer to him before they lowered the protective bar over their laps.

Stand up me hearties, yo ho

As the boat floated along the ride, passing mechanical pirates, Dean tried to pay his usual attention to his surroundings. You never knew when you were in danger. But right now, he was in a different kind of danger. Because Cas’s thigh was just barely touching his.

The boat passed under a tunnel, with a mechanical dog at the top holding jail cell keys in its mouth. Dean turned to make a joke in Cas’s ear about how he felt about dogs, but Cas must have had a similar idea. They turned their heads and leaned in at the same time, their noses brushing against each other.

Dean’s heart slammed in his chest when he felt Cas’s warm breath on his face. For a second that felt like a thousand, Dean stared into the oceans of Cas’s eyes. His eyes flitted down to Cas’s pink lips, but he brought them back up right away. That was dangerous.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, a serious expression on his face that Dean couldn’t read.

Dean forced a laugh.

“Sorry, pal,” he choked. He didn’t know whether it was the laugh or the word “pal” that made his throat ache. He turned away and scooted down the bench an inch or two further from Cas.

They were quiet for the rest of the ride, save for a few of Dean’s attempts to make jokes about the ride. Cas smiled appreciatively, but Dean wondered if he was even listening. Dean hadn’t even heard his own words. They didn’t matter. He told himself if he got another chance, he was damn well gonna take it.

As they walked around the park and tried more of the rides, they managed to get back most of their easy enjoyment of the day.

Dean insisted that Cas try a bite of his apple pie flavored churro, even though he knew it just tasted like molecules to the angel. He watched more carefully than he should’ve when Cas’s tongue shot out to lick the sugar off of his lips.

There was still a hint of tension, and it got worse when the night set in. The park would be closing soon, and they’d be going back to their hotel room. Alone.

“Attention guests. The fireworks show will be starting in 10 minutes. We hope you enjoyed your day at the happiest place on earth,” they heard blasted through the park.

“Come on, Dean,” Cas said with authority, pulling for a moment on the sleeve of Dean’s gray flannel. Dean dutifully followed as Cas led them past the Rivers of America, through the park, not stopping until they were in front of the Sleeping Beauty Castle.

“I asked questions the first time I stopped here,” Cas said in answer to Dean’s raised eyebrows when they stopped. “This is the best place for the fireworks.”

They found a white painted outdoor table at a little diner and settled there, facing the castle. Their chairs were right next to each other, close enough that two of the chairs’ legs were intermingled.

The bustle around the park settled when the first colored lights projected onto the castle, and A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes started to play.

He would never admit it, but Dean’s heart swelled when the first flashes of pink and blue lights exploded in the sky. They were wild and free. And so was he. He could be who he wanted to be. He could be with who he wanted to be with. Couldn’t he? He turned his head to see the colors reflected off of Cas’s skin, turning his face a soft purple.

He understood why they called it the happiest place on earth today. Today Disneyland was pure magic. But yesterday it wasn’t. And after they left, it wouldn’t be anymore. Because the happiest place on earth couldn’t be anywhere but next to Cas.

Have faith in your dreams and someday, the music played as the fireworks burst in the sky.

Your rainbow will come smiling through.

No matter how your heart is grieving,

If you keep on believing…

“Cas,” Dean whispered, turning his body to face the angel. His angel.

“Dean.” Before Dean could figure out what he was even trying to say, Cas leaned in.

The fireworks in the sky had nothing on the ones inside Dean when their lips met.

The dream that you wish will come true

[chiefavenuewerewolf]

5 Star Cinema Garden Grove

All Theatres Starlight Terrace Cinemas, Rancho Palos Verdes, CA Starlight Whittier Village, Whittier, CA Starlight Cinema City Theatres, Anaheim, CA Starlight West Grove Cinemas, Garden Grove, CA Starlight Triangle Square Cinemas, Costa Mesa, CA Starlight Dos Lagos 15, Corona, CA.

Reviews 14

ST

Steven Crow

Garden Grove features a number of movie theaters, but Starlight Cinemas always offers convenient show times and a great movie selection. Bring the whole family to this theater, where kiddos are welcomed with open arms.Patrons can park in a lot near Starlight Cinemas or take advantage of the generous street parking. Whatever you're in the mood for, Starlight Cinemas has.

All Theatres Starlight Terrace Cinemas, Rancho Palos Verdes, CA Starlight Whittier Village, Whittier, CA Starlight Cinema City Theatres, Anaheim, CA Starlight West Grove Cinemas, Garden Grove, CA Starlight Triangle Square Cinemas, Costa Mesa, CA Starlight Dos Lagos 15, Corona, CA.

Enjoy the latest movies at your local Regal Cinemas. Regal Garden Grove features stadium seating, digital projection, mobile tickets and more! Favorite place to go to the movies. Using the card is the best program. It really helps senior citizens. Everyone is always.

Garden Grove Cinema - Deals in Garden Grove, CA Groupon. Cinema deals in Garden Grove, CA: 50 to 90% off deals in Garden Grove. AMC DINE-IN Fullerton 20. AMC Anaheim GardenWalk 6. Active: 2019-11-22.

Please read this oneI don’t usually write reviews but the experience me and my wife had is unbelievable My wife was in a car wreck on 1-24-15 and hurt her back but still wanted to see a movie for Valentine’s day 2-14-15 so I got the tickets and went I asked the lady at the door if my wife could Just sit on bench until movie time and she got a bad attitude problem with me so I asked to see The manager she came out and I told her about the problem she seemed like she didnt care at all. But she finally let my wife sit then all we heard was laughing and giggling from them made my wife feel very bad and very uncomfortable we left and won’t be back ever.By the way me and my daughter usually go to the movies there at least once a week sometimes twice a week and have been going there for almost four years now and the guy’s that work there on the weekdays are great very kind and never any Problems at all.

BR

Brian Bergström

Was happy with the pricing of the movies here. First run movies at discounted prices. The theaters are small, but comfortable. I first saw a movie here in 1987 and it hasnt changed much, except the technology.What disappointed me were the lights that never turn off and when the movie starts nobody closes the doors (I went to the back and closed the doors myself, nothing I could do about the lights). How can one really enjoy a movie theater experience with lights in the ceiling shining down in your eyes.I came here for 3D, because ONLY the Dolby Digital 3D works for me, the crappy RealD 3D doesnt work nearly as well. Then as it turned out the movie I wanted to see was not being shown in 3D at all.I would go back again, but probably sit more towards the front away from the spotlights and open doors.

PA

Pat Butterfield

5 Star Cinema Garden Grove Ca

This place and staff has always given me a pleasurable experience and have gone on various days and times for the last 5yrs Even going during regular hours/days but frequent the senior/family days & hours. Been there during peak hrs & always someone at doors ready to go in and clean soon as a movie is over. Cant go to the Regals or Edwards and the like for top movies popcorn and drinks for the same price or less than what others charge just to get in the doors! Too bad Steve Crow had a bad experience, I have never seen or heard of such a thing all the times Ive gone. Im even greeted & asked where my friend is when I go alone. And acknowledged when Ive not been seen for awhile! Local theaters always best over commercial places anytime!

A

A Private User

I see a lot of people complaining about the employees and the seats and screens. Download blackberry handheld software for 8520. I have never had a problem with any of the employees. They arent really friendly, but have never been rude to me or any of my kids. Sure it s small, but for the value, worth it for me. We could never afford to see a movie otherwise. If you get their saver card, you get a free ticket for every four you buy, even on family night. Plus you get free popcorn and free refills on popcorn and soda. Tip..go early in family nights, you will be in line for a bit, and it will fill up.

WE

Wesley To

Dont be fooled by the price and Starlight brand. This place has almost nothing else in common with other Starlights. No reserved seating. No seats in the center (aisle runs down the middle). Small, dim screen. But the other Starlights (Triangle Square in Costa Mesa, Cinema City in Anaheim) have identical pricing and feature reserved seating, center seats, and larger screens, as well as having more total screens, more seats per screen, and nicer aesthetics. Go to those ones if possible. Those actually deserve the '4 Star' nomenclature.

A

A Private User

5 Star Theater Garden Grove

Hate it. We came to watch sherlock holmes and half way through my lady went to use the restrooms and got kicked out cause the management said she was trying to jump movies. she had the ticket stub and she wasnt trying to jump movie.. she waited out side in the cold. while i was waiting for her to return. finally i went out side to look for her and i was very shocked to find out what had happened.. Never again will we ever come here again. Go some where else management seemed racist..

YA

Yaseng Yann

I go to this theater almost exclusively esp so that we could go bowling before or after a movie: $7 refillable (one time before the movie ends) popcorn, clean theater, good sound system, friendly staff. Prices are catching up to that of UA and Regency..$9/adult is more than at some other places; so we are pulling the reins a tad. Maybe it pays to be a frequent movie pass goer..then again, we should head out to the state parks and outdoors more. Head out and shape up, America!

A

A Private User

i think this is a fantastic bargain to go to the movies in these most difficult of times. the popcorn is great ..the seating is good and the value is fabulous. we try to make it every Tuesday. i found the employees to be professional and courtesy so i suppose everyone has there opinion and mine is that keep the price low and the audiences will come. thanks.

JO

John Taylor

The movie industry is my passion. When I was a teen I loved going to the cinema. This place is comfy, small and a great place to take out your girlfriend. However last time my girlfriend and I went everything was just dirty. Spit bubble gums, popcorn and smelly restrooms. Not a romantic experience at all. I hope they take some actions!

LE

Lexi Buelna

Is this as fancy as Bella Terra? No. But as far as a discount theater is concerned, this is a definite 5 star theater! Everyone has been nothing but polite and friendly. Only 4 movies at a time but, for the price, im willing to wait a while until they change the options! And any theater with $1 hot dogs is fine by me.

JA

JAN VARELA

Awesome new movies. Get the frequent movie goer pass and get free movies and popcorn. CLEAN place and if you go to their site print a FREE popcorn and upgrade to large popcorn & Large drink with refills for $9.00Tuesday & Thursday $4.00 all day.everyday $5.00 until after either 4 or 5:00pm then its $6.00

BR Abs marvel connector types.

Brandon Kheang

Absolutely love this theater, $6 Tuesday, Thursdays, and Sundays every week are an excellent value. Though it may not be as large as the bigger theaters, the movie viewing experience is still very enjoyable, especially given the price. The employees are friendly and the popcorn is delicious

Garden Grove 5 Star Cinema

KA

Karen Taylor

We just moved to the area and we found this theater 'WONDERFUL' and it has a family environment in our neighborhood.The prices are good all doing the week and the popcorn is good and very affordable for us. The staff helpful. We love it there.Thanks,Resident of Buena ParkKaren

AL

Alina Ramirez

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Considering that it is a 4 screen theater with regular old school seating, it is nice. The floors arent sticky, the seats arent broken, the restrooms are clean and most importantly..very nice staff. Great place to take my family especially since we are on a very tight budget.

5 Star Cinema Garden Grove

Other organizations

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER 37: Weezer - Part 2

Kilo struggles to his feet at the bottom of a hole that did not exist ten seconds ago. Toto watches him from the rim of the hole, smiling easily without any hint of malice. 

The enemy rubs his eyebrow with a spidery finger and explains, “Five years ago, yeah? There was an accident,” he says, as if sitting across from Kilo in a bar booth, “They was setting up some sort of overhead sound system or whatever, and they ended up droppin’ a couple tons of equipment from the ceiling. Made a hole in the floor. Right here, dig? The convention centre administrators were too cheap to fix it right, so they just covered the hole with plaster. Came back to bite ‘em in the ass though, cause eventually that hole opened up into a sinkhole that swallowed up six people!”  

Kilo glares up at him as he chuckles, continuing his lackadaisical monologue. “Moral of the story? It all comes back to you. No matter how deep you bury ‘em, every misfortune stacks up, until it blows up in yo’ face. My WEEZER… is just what ignites it. I told ya, you’d only get one chance to walk.”

By the time he’s finished, Kilo is back on his feet, not appearing the least bit intimidated. “I don’t give a shit,” he declares, then SATURN BARZ drives its taloned fingers into the wall of the pit. The Stand gouges a cleft of dry rock from the wall, and the wall begins to bubble and froth, turning into a thick, gravelly sludge. This effect extends upwards, reaching the rim of the pit. 

“Whuh--?” Toto says, as the ground he’s standing dissolves into a sheer mudslide, and his feet are caught up in the muck. He bolts upright, flailing his arms to keep his balance.

But while he focuses on this, Kilo ascends from the hole, having been raised up by SATURN BARZ. He grabs a fistful of Toto’s hoodie and pulls himself forward. Toto is pulled in the opposite direction, losing his balance and tumbling forward into his own pit trap. Kilo lands on the edge of the hole in a crouch at the same moment Toto hits the bottom, standing submerged up to his waist in liquid concrete. With a swift whirl of its hands, SATURN BARZ reverts the mudslide back into solid concrete, trapping his opponent in solid stone.

“Uhh--” Toto utters, not entirely sure what has just happened to him.

“Some nightmare!” Kilo taunts at him, “Damn. And here I was expecting a challenge outta you. What a joke!”

Before the Congregation assassin can say anything back, Kilo gets up and walks away, amidst a Convention floor in various stages of agony. Upwards of 300 people roll around groaning in pain, while others, unaffected, either run about or stand struck dumb, helpless among the sudden horror. 

“Jesus…” he mutters, rushing to attend to Moya. The cold sweat that formed on her flesh as a result of WEEZER’s touch has now developed into a corpse-like pallor that’s turned her bronze skin to a sickly gray. “What the hell’s happening to you?” he asks, kneeling to help her up.

“I-it’s Toto’s ability…” she answers after a brief coughing fit and spitting an absurd volume of green mucus. Her voice is scratchy, and her breath is short and shallow, but she takes his hand nonetheless, and drapes her over his shoulders.

Kilo places the back of his hand on her forehead, then pulls it back quickly. “You’re burning up! What ability could do this?!”

“It’s pneumonia…!” she asserts, “Ough, when I was 10, I caught pneumonia after staying out in the rain…! Abuela said not to stay out so long, but I didn’t listen… Agh, doesn’t matter!! Whatever it is, Toto was the one that caused this! I’ve never worked with him before, but… the ability must revive illnesses from your past to harm you in the present…!”

Kilo glances around the convention hall once more, then nods in agreement. “Sure. But what about the sinkhole?”

“Buildings can be damaged, too. And Hotel California demonstrated how a structure can have its own history and will.”

“Right. Alright…” he is quiet for a moment, then he carries her to a nearby column and sits her down against it. “Hang tight,” he says, starting back towards the pit, “I’m gonna finish that muthafucka off.”

“Wait!” Moya cries out, straining her voice. “You need to be cautious! I-if he touches you, then you’ll be caught in his ability too!” 

A grin spreads across Kilo’s lips. “Worst I ever got was a cold when I was 6! His ability might be hot shit if you had something bad like you did, but it’ll take more’n a couple sniffles to stop me! Not to mention, he’s enough of a scrub to get himself caught in his own trap! Asshole’s dead-meat already!” He says this as he reaches the rim of the pit, but finds thats Toto is no longer trapped in the concrete.

Right as he begins to search for him, Toto reveals himself, speaking from behind Kilo. “It’s rude to talk ‘bout people behind their backs,” he declares, brushing loose gravel off him, “But, I guess, I got nobody to blame but myself, yeah?”

Kilo and SATURN BARZ whirls around towards their enemy, the Stand forming a spear of solidified oxygen in its hand. It jabs the impromptu icicle at Toto’s throat, but he dodges to the side with a lazy grin on his face. WEEZER manifests in front of him, and reaches for SATURN BARZ with the same blinding speed it showed to WITCH MOUNTAIN. But Kilo is ready, as just before the mangled enemy Stand grabs a hold of his throat, the ice spear suddenly explodes into frigged shrapnel right in Toto’s face. 

The Congregation assassin winces as the icy shards pelt him over his body. “AHH!! Damn, that hurts!!” he yelps, and in that moment of distraction, SATURN BARZ lunges for him, claws aimed at his face. Toto gathers himself and sways back with footwork that would make Muhammad Ali proud, and WEEZER jerks a knuckle to the ground.

Kilo’s foot falls in the exact spot where WEEZER touched, and the ground beneath it gives way, opening into another hole, smaller than the first and shallower, only going halfway up his calf. He drops and lands flat-footed. He groans as pangs of pain run up his leg. 

“Guess two sinkholes was too good to be true,” Toto says before WEEZER lurches into a new attack. 

“Don’t let him touch you!” Moya shouts, watching all of this from her pillar. 

With a swift backhand swipe, SATURN BARZ bats WEEZER’s hands out of the way. Toto grunts as heavy ice begins to form on his Stand’s hand and the biting cold effect transfers over to himself. In the meantime, Kilo steps out of the pit trap and puts distance between him and his opponent. 

Toto raises an eyebrow at him. “What was it you said? ‘Take more’n a couple sniffles to stop me’. If you ain’t scared of what my WEEZER can do, how come you standing so far away?” 

“I’m not scared. But I’m not stupid either and I know you Congregation pricks are full of dirty tricks.”

The Congregation assassin laughs. “Heheheh… That’s pretty smart… Or it would be, if touching you was the only way WEEZER could hurt you.”

WEEZER’s hand flex suddenly, its fingers spreading and shattering the frost forming on its hand. It then launches its entire body in Kilo’s direction with a piercing screech. “BIIISHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH…”

“Shi--!!” Kilo says, raising SATURN BARZ to guard, but to his surprise, WEEZER sails right over his head and slams its palm into the wide window behind him. Then the glass begins to shudder and vibrate violently, before WEEZER peels away from it, and the window explodes inwards, showering Kilo with a hail of glass. 

“AAGH!” he yells, and SATURN BARZ tries to shield its user from the oncoming barrage of glass, but is unable to get them all, as thick shards pierce Kilo in his arm, ribs and thigh.

“That one was an accident too,” Toto calls, “Tropical storm hit Anaheim about ten years ago, tore up a tree that broke a window. Nobody got hurt that time, though!” 

Kilo winces as SATURN BARZ dissolves the glass into liquid and his wounds close up into red marks. “Shit!” he thinks, “It’s like his Stand can do anything he wants it to! Even if I don’t let him touch me, if I keep letting him make all the moves, I’m a dead man! There’s gotta be something I can use!!”

He searches with his eyes frantically around the convention hall, hunting for something to gain an advantage over this seemingly impossible enemy. Toto seems perfectly content to simply watch him, hands in his pockets, without a care in the world. Kilo grinds his teeth and scowls at him.

“Hey, come ooon, what’s that look for? I already gave you a chance, and you didn’t take it. Don’t blame me for your mistakes~…”

Kilo answers with a flick of the wrist from SATURN BARZ, firing shards of solidified water vapor at his opponent. The assassin dodges, then dodges the next batch, and keeps up with Kilo when he starts running down the hall, leaping over afflicted guests and tearing through convention booths.

SATURN BARZ keeps up the attack the whole time, flinging at Toto with frozen projectiles. WEEZER blocks them all with its unmitigated speed, its jaw hanging loose from its skull swinging to and fro with every staccato motion. 

Kilo vaults onto a table and SATURN BARZ takes its Olympian stance, forming a great ice javelin in its palm and hurling it at its enemy. It is the same kind as before, set with opposing impulses within its structure so it may explode into a smokescreen, even if WEEZER deflects it. But WEEZER does not deflect it.

Instead, it jerks its right foot underneath a convention guest with angry red spots growing on his face. The unfortunate guest’s body lifts off the ground and WEEZER catches him by the back of his neck, holding him in front of its master. The guest’s eyes clear up for long enough to see the ice spear fly at him before it impales him through his shoulder. He loses consciousness when the spear explodes, turning his wound into a bloody cavity you could see through. Toto is left completely unscathed.

“What… What the fuck did you do?!” Kilo shouts, staring in shock and disgust.

“What did I do? I… protected myself from your attack. What’s it look like?” WEEZER grips its human shield by the neck then tosses it at Kilo, who dives from the table to catch him. When he does, the diseased Stand appears and lunges for him.

“First he uses this guy as a shield, now as a distraction!? This bastard…!!” Kilo thinks. Before WEEZER can lay its mottled hands on him, SATURN BARZ strikes out with a kick to its gut that knocks the wind out of Toto. Kilo then rolls out of its range, clutching the guest’s body.

“You son of a bitch…!” he snarls while SATURN BARZ closes the unconscious guest’s wound, “What’s the matter with you!?! How can you involve innocent people like this?!!”

Toto, as ever, treats his words like a joke, laughing softly. “Haha… It’s just bad luck. It ain’t my fault, and it ain’t yours. He just happened to be here at the wrong time, and happened to get involved in our little playdate. If you take the time to worry about every little ant you step on, you’d never take another step.”

“You sick fuck…”

“What’re you getting so upset for? Human lives ain’t that big a deal,” the Congregation assassin fixes his posture, recovering from SATURN BARZ strike, “All humans are just vessels for Fate to enact its will. Even Stand users like us. Stands are reflections of the soul, but that doesn’t mean that having one is anything special. They got nothing to do with good or evil, or justice. All it means is that Fate chose us to have a little bit more impact in its design. Fate chose you, just like it chose me. You and I were always going to fight here today, and that guy, and these people, were always going to get caught in the middle. No matter how much you fight it, we both ultimately serve the same power.”

“Again…” Kilo murmurs, rising. The guest’s wound has closed over completely, forming a pale, circular scar in his shoulder. “I’m so sick of hearing you people talk out of your ass at me. All this shit about God and fate and higher beings…” SATURN BARZ takes a bow-legged stance and raises its hands over its head as its master continues “All that I could take, but worse! You all keep tryin’ to tell me that I’m the same as you. I don’t want to be mentioned in the breath as you fucking losers!!!”

SATURN BARZ claps its hand together and steam explodes out from between them. This builds into a thick fog that covers everything in a damp smokescreen.

“Really?” Toto says, unimpressed. He saunters through the smokescreen, his head bobbing up and down as he steps on bodies without a care.

[stephiebutton]

So on Thursday before Coachella, my friend (who bows at the Altar of Ariana) sent me Ari’s posts on IG — one of the *NSYNC pay per view concert in which baby Ari was in the audience; and the new video of her lip syncing to Tearin’ Up My Heart. I thought maybe he was trying to convert me to an Arianator, but I honestly didn’t think much of it, nor did he, so I was just like ok, that’s cute!

On Friday, I had several people text me over a two hour timeframe when the rumors started spreading that *NSYNC may be playing Coachella—all while I was at work and couldn’t really wrap my head around it or even take the time to research it myself. At first I was like REALLY? Then I was like REALLY! By Friday evening, I knew something was going to go down, I just didn’t know what. I had convinced myself that they were going to perform, and that I had to be there, and I even researched flights and tickets; but then, I convinced myself that they were only going to introduce her, and I didn’t need to go. I was scheduled to close at work Sunday night, so I basically threw my hands in the air and was like “Oh well, I can’t go.”

Saturday rolled around, and I had a nagging feeling that I needed to try harder to make it happen, because whatever was going down was something that I needed to see. I knew that if I didn’t try everything I could, I would regret it. I had to close at work Saturday night, which means I had to be there around 3pm and work until 11:30pm. The gal that was scheduled to open on Sunday was still there when I arrived, so as she was getting ready to leave, I said “I need a favor...” and for some reason, I hesitated in asking her, like I didn’t really know what to say or how to say it, like the answer could actually change my life, so I just looked at her with a weird sideways smile, then finally asked if she could switch with me, so I come back and open Sunday morning instead of closing. She said she had to check with her family and see if they had plans, and she would get back to me. Thirty minutes after she left, she texted and said it was all good, that we could switch! From that point on, everything just snowballed. I had the biggest obstacle out of my way, so now to make the rest happen...

I went back and fourth about a ticket to the event. At first, I was like, “I’ll figure it out when I get down there,” like I usually do for most concerts I attend. I checked Stub Hub first, and was willing to pay whatever I needed to, but the only problem with that was because Coachella uses wristbands, not tickets, all bands had to be picked up in person. I called them to see what the latest pick up time was, and if anyone could pick up for me, and all other options I could think to exhaust, but it ended up not working out since I wasn’t going to get down there until much later. At that point, I was like “YOLO, I’ll find someone selling one outside!” But then I realized how late I was going to get there, and was like, “dude, if I don’t have a ticket by time I get there, no one is going to be hawking them; so I’m screwed!”

Then finally, I turned to the one place that scares me the most, Craigslist! I went through the posts, most were wristbands for Weekend 2, but I found one for Weekend 1, advertised for the cheapest I had seen any advertised, anywhere! I replied via text immediately, really not thinking I’d get a reply since the event was well underway and the wristband had probably already been sold. To my surprise, within minutes, the postee replied. I asked if it was still available, and he (I didn’t know if it was a he, she or other at the time) replied that yes, it was, but someone was supposed to pick it up later. But he also said that so many people had flaked already, that he wasn’t counting on it. After confirming it was a Weekend 1 wristband, I told him that I wanted it, 100%, guaranteed! The only problem was that he had advertised it from San Francisco and I was across the Bay, and I wouldn’t be able to pick it up until after midnight. He then replied that he was actually in Oakland, which happened to be the city right next to me! I couldn’t believe it! Aaaaand, it was only $200, which happened to be the EXACT amount of money I had in my wallet, and usually I don’t carry any cash at all! I let the mid shift manager know that I had to step out to make a miracle happen!

I’m not going to lie, I was like, “what if it’s a serial killer?!” “What if it’s a ploy to rob me?!” “Am I going to die?!” So I shared the address with the other manager in case the cops needed to know where to find my body. Two associates hugged me in case they never saw me again, and I was on my way. I texted the other manager when I got to the pick up spot, but I didn’t see her reply immediately, so I didn’t reply right away. She was worried that the “Craigslist murderer” kidnapped me and had been the one to text her that I was there safely, even though he had probably already cut me into pieces, just to throw off suspicion. 😂😂 😂 (we may or may not have seen too many SVUs or CSIs). All in all, it took less than 10 minutes to get there, less than 5 minutes for the exchange, and less than 10 minutes back. The course of my life changed in less than a lunch break! Now the second hurdle had been cleared.

I texted a few friends a picture of the Coachella box and they were all in semi-disbelief/not really surprised/kinda amazed/planning my *NSYNC junkie intervention. But they knew, if anyone was going on this adventure, it was me!

I had posted on Facebook trying to get someone to ride down to So Cal with me, so that I wasn’t traveling alone (I would have anyways, but company is always appreciated on long journeys). I was trying to talk my friends and fellow fans into winging it and coming along, but no bites. Finally, at about 9pm, one of my cousins replied and said she, her husband, and their baby girl were considering going down to Disney to join some of their family, and if I was still looking for some road dogs, they were in.

Schedule, check; wristband, check; road dogs, check. Everything was coming together.

I was home from work at 11:30pm, picked a few outfits, packed, showered, and was in bed by 2am. I met with my mom at 6:30am to exchange cars since hers was a little bit more current with the maintenance, and then I was back at work at 7am to get the building open and operating. The morning is still a blur. My fellow manager arrived at 11am, and I was out the doors by 11:30. I met my cousin and family at noon, and we were on our way. We got an hour into the drive and then the gas light came on. I was so excited that I had freaking forgot to get gas before we left! Like it never even crossed my mind. I had one mission, and I forgot all the steps I still needed to take to get there 😂. Luckily we were still close to civilization, so filling up happened, then we proceeded on the adventure of a lifetime. I think we only stopped a couple times for gas and a baby break on that six hour journey to our first stop. Let me tell you, my baby cousin is a true hero! That 5 month old was so well behaved, didn’t need a whole lot, and was just a little trooper. My cousin-in-law did a lot of the driving on the way down and I am so grateful for that, because it had already been a long day leading up to the trip, and it was going to be an even longer night...

We arrived in Anaheim around 6:15pm. They got checked in their room, my cousin-in-law took the car to fill up, while I got ready and prepped for the last two hour stretch of the trip.

I was officially en route to Coachella by 6:45pm. I remember eating very little all day because I just couldn’t, and I remember snacking on an apple and some goldfish during those last two hours to Coachella. (This is irrelevant but I’m throwing in all the deets I can recall).

I had never been anywhere near Coachella or Palm Springs, so I was really disoriented when I finally made it to that last highway before the getting to my destination. Traffic wasn’t horrible, but it was still quite a trek, so I was slowly getting anxiety with each passing minute. I followed directions directly to the fairgrounds, however, it was about 8:45pm at that point, and the streets were blocked a mile in every direction. I circled the area looking for anywhere to park, feeling helpless, I finally pulled over to ask someone what to do, and they informed me that parking had JUST shut down (at this point it was about 9pm). They suggested that I park at a shopping center and Uber in. I found a shopping center 3 miles away and requested an Uber. I was throwing things in my fanny pack trying to get it together because my Uber was on its way. The guy was only able to get me a mile and a half closer because of the street blockages, so I sped walked a mile and a half in, and started the winding path through the gates of Coachella.

I knew Ariana was scheduled to play at 10:30pm, and at this point it was probably 9:30pm, I was close enough, and I knew I would make it. I was no longer worried about making it in, but now I was having major anxiety and freaking out, and semi-crying at what might be happening in the next hour. There was a lot of talking to myself on that walk, the main message to myself was “BITCH BE COOL!” I knew it wouldn’t be a long line, since it was so late and the night was almost over. People were actually leaving as I was walking in and I’m thinking to myself, “don’t you people understand that *NSYNC is about to be on that stage?! Y’all are going to regret leaving early! I wonder how you are going to feel knowing you missed this when everyone would be talking about this in the morning!” But ya know what, not my problem. Their loss!

The walk into the festival felt just as long as the walk to the fairgrounds. It felt like miles of a fenced off path, which was made of dirt, but not just any dirt. The chunks of dirt were so huge, it was like walking on rocks. I was certain I was about to sprain my ankle, but I reminded myself that it would be worth it and the hospital would be there when it was over.

I made it through the gated path, nothing sprained, just a little sweat. I made it through security, and I was IN. I had absolutely no idea where I was going. I threw this trip together so last minute that I had no time to prep. I walked over to a tent covered stage. It was a big stage and I was like is this it?! I was looking for some sign labeling the stage or some list of set times, and found nothing. I asked around, the first two security people I asked were no help! One was so rude, he was like, “I don’t know, did you look at your map!” I’m thinking “mother f-er, don’t you think if I had a map I would know where the F I’m going, why would I waste my precious breath speaking to you?! I was like “dude, I JUST got here and there is no map and I need to know where the main stage is.” So his rude ass referred me to someone else who was nicer, but said that he didn’t know where the main stage was. I’m thinking “are you people kidding me?! How are you working the most popular festival known to mankind and you can’t tell me where the main stage is?!” A little panic started to set in. It was dark, it was getting late, her set was rapidly approaching, and I had no idea where I was going. So finally, I was referred to another guy, who actually pointed me in the right direction. He’s like “its all the way on the other side, past that tent, past the beer garden and you’ll see it.” The act that was on the stage I had first seen upon entrance had just started, and some people were running towards me to get to it, so I was going against traffic, but my destination was clear now. Once I had the stage in my sight, I stopped for a water. The girl selling those very reasonably priced water bottles (only 2 bucks! That was practically free in festival land) was like “I like your shirt” (an *NSYNC crop tee simply styled with *NSYNC across the chest. [PS I DON’T wear crop tops, but I figured, cuando en Coachella right?!]). And I simply asked, “this is the place right?” And she just enthusiastically nodded Yes. It was about to go down. I tried to locate a restroom, because I mean, I had just spent 2+ hours driving and chugging an energy drink and water, making no stops, but there were no restrooms in sight, and I was not about to walk back to the entrance where they were. I had done way too much just to get within eye shot of that stage, I figured, what’s a little pee in my pants?! It was probably gonna happen upon seeing *NSYNC for the first time in 17 years anyways! (PSS I didn’t actually pee my pants. I think my whole body had shut down at the point because nothing more was going to get in my way).

I kinda of walked back and fourth across the field, I walked all the way down the right side. I had one friend there already, but trying to get in contact with anyone in that mass of people was impossible. It was hard to tell where a good spot would be, because a lot of people were sitting down, so getting an accurate read was not happening. I knew just being there was all I needed, regardless of what I could or couldn’t see, but I really did want to see SOMETHING. My brain was all over the place, I was like “I could just start pushing through people. I could go all the way up front but all the way to the side,” the options were limitless. I ultimately didn’t want to cause any drama by pushing through people, I didn’t want a harsh angle of the stage, so I figured if I was semi central I would at least catch a glimpse of whatever was going down, no matter how far back I was standing. I couldn’t actually get centered because the sound and lighting booth was to my left and the people were too packed in to get through any further, not to mention there was a fenced off area in the middle for VIPs. (In fact, that’s where Billie Eilish and Justin Bieber were meeting. I remember seeing the crowd directly around that spot all holding up their lights and phones. I heard rumblings that it was Bieber, but I could not possibly care less, I’m not a fan [again, another irrelevant point, but it’s part of my memory, so whatevs!]) I settled on my spot and reminded myself that being there was enough. I’ve also done enough GA shows to know that when the show starts, people push in and up, so that was going to be my game plan.

By this time, it was probably about 10pm, and I only had thirty minutes to go! I was calm and quiet, because the ONLY thing I wanted in life might actually be happening, and I was there, I was a part of it. Ariana might have been a few minutes behind schedule, and I had no clue when the song I was waiting for would be coming, so I stayed calm and waited for it. It was the fourth song in, and when I heard the first cords to “Break Up With Your Girlfriend, I’m Bored” I immediately started crying, and my camera went up in the air. If *NSYNC was actually going to be there, this was the song. This was my entire trip, the whole saga, coming to its peak, my dreams potentially coming true, 17 years of waiting. This was it!

I honestly couldn’t see much, and I didn’t even see them walk on the stage. This was either going to be the greatest moment of my life, or the biggest disappointment I’ve ever experienced. When the song came to a pause, and she looked over her shoulder, and then uttered the words I’d waited so long to hear again, I lost my whole ass mind. “Ladies and Gentlemen, *NSYNC!” I basically blacked out at that moment, and I only remember bits and pieces. I know I still couldn’t see, but what glimpse I did catch, I really only saw JC at first and I was like “is it just him?” And for a tenth of a second, I was thoroughly confused, but still getting my life and losing my ever loving mind! My eyes darted around, and I finally caught a glimpse of everyone else. (I also still didn’t know if Justin was there or not, because I knew it was physically possible that he be there, albeit, highly unlikely. Honestly, I’ll always love Justin, even though I can’t stand him much of the time, and I did secretly hope he would have made it to this, but I was perfectly fine with the fact that he ultimately wasn’t there). I didn’t know what my camera was recording, and I didn’t care, because this moment was everything. When the song ended, I stopped recording, because that was it...or so I thought. I had never even imagined that there would be more and I was so content with them just singing “It Makes Me Ill.” I didn’t have any time to process because immediately after that ended, “Tearin Up My Heart” started and my blackout went even darker. I managed to get my phone recording again, I still couldn’t see a thing, but it didn’t matter. What I do remember was the people right in front of me, looking back at me, and staring. I still have no idea why, because it could have been my screaming, it’s possible it was my singing, it might have been me sobbing, I may have even bumped them while jumping around. I was not aware of anything I was physically doing. I do remember Ari in the middle hitting that choreography so hard, and when Joey yelled “Let me see you jump!” I think that’s when I snapped back in to reality and I started processing things again. I went even harder with the dancing, singing and jumping, because it was one of those moments when I found myself actively living in the moment, and I wanted to live it the best I could. I’ve probably never smiled that huge in my life. As the song wound down, I stayed recording just in case more was coming (not that I needed anything else, because my life was complete in that moment), so I have them thanking the crowd and Ariana and that was a perfect way to wrap up that video.

Once they cleared the stage, I had to catch my breath, gather myself, and keep

from crumbling to the floor. I remember leaning over with my hands on my knees, trying to get my vision and hearing back. Attempting to process anything that had just happened. I had had a brief exchange with the guy next to me before Ari hit the stage and I was like “I’m here for *NSYNC” and I showed him my shirt. While I was trying to compose myself, he put his hands on my shoulders and was just like “OH MY GOD!” I think that was the general consensus of the crowd, because it was that epic. I stayed for her whole set, and appreciated everything she brought to the stage, but nothing would top *NSYNC. It was one of those show stopping, jaw dropping moments that could never be duplicated.

Because cell service had been so bad during the show, I just put my phone on airplane mode, as to not drain the battery, and I honestly, didn’t give a crap about the outside world. Not a lot of people knew I was going, and I didn’t want to jinx anything, so I kept the details of the trip very quiet, with the exception of a few friends I had texted or messaged directly. So once all was sang and done, I turned airplane off, only to be blasted with texts from friends who knew I was there, checking to see if I was still alive. Because I hadn’t replied immediately, a few of them thought I was dead in the dirt in the desert 😂😂😂😂.

The crowd was clearing out, and I was trying to coordinate a meet up with a friend of mine who scored a wristband earlier that same day. She was the only person I knew there, and I’m so glad I had someone to squeeze after the greatest moment of my life! We went to good ol’ Denny’s to hang out and further bask in the glory of the evening! We had mutual friends, and were pals on social media, but never had the chance to hang out together, so it was great to catch up and squeal about what we witnessed!

Finally, around 2am, I headed out of Indio, and I was on my way home. Yes, this trip was a down and back adventure. I knew it would be brutal, but I knew that it would be worth it. I drove about 3 hours up, and stopped to nap in the car, for what was supposed to be a 30 minute cat nap, but turned into a couple hours 😂. I was on a time crunch because I was due to be back at work at 11am. I got back on the road at 5am and the journey continued. I had exhausted so much energy at the show, that the last five hours of the drive home were harsh! I had to stop several times to stretch and keep my blood flowing, and at one point I knew I wasn’t going to make it to work on time, so I let my manager know. She knew I had gone, and knew I was insane, and was shocked I was still driving home, so she was cool with me coming in an hour or so late 🙏🏻. I made it home to shower and change, then made it to work for another nine hours. Although I was exhausted, I had the comfort of knowing that I had just experienced one of my top two moments in life (the other being the Star Ceremony) and the smile never left my face.

The entire adventure officially lasted less than 48 hours. I’m still amazed that everything went down the way that it did. I’m a strong believer in “if it’s meant to be, it will be.” And this was just another example of that being true for me, and especially when it comes to *NSYNC. I have experienced so many cool things and have countless memories thanks to those guys, and this moment will go down as one of the greatest!

[spine-buster]

Alone, Together | Chapter 21 | Morgan Rielly

A/N:  Y’all deserve this one.  I’ll be at church cleansing my sins if you need me.  

Briony never got to give out Valentine’s Day cards at school because she could never afford them.  She’d get them from her fellow students, decorated with superheroes or puppies or whatever else was popular at the time, usually with a heart-shaped chocolate or a Hershey’s Kiss, but she was never able to give any out.  That was why, given the opportunity, she went out and bought really corny Valentine’s Day cards, the fold up ones that came in packs of 30, wrote one to Morgan for each day of his road trip, and hid them in his suitcase for the 13-day tour of Montreal, New York, Colorado, Las Vegas, Arizona, and St. Louis.  Bee was a bit bummed that she wasn’t able to spend time with Morgan on their first Valentine’s Day together, but there wasn’t exactly anything she could do about it.  

Instead, she was focused on the training she was completing for her new job.  The day after her interview, Mark Travers had called her back.  “Can you come back to my office?” he had asked.  Morgan was at morning practice, so she high-tailed it in an Uber.  When she got there, he sat her down in the same chair she sat in for the interview.  “What are your salary expectations?”  “There will be performance bonuses if you accept and do well.”  “We’re not going with the candidate from Montreal.  I would love for you to be part of our team.”  It was all very surreal, and of course, she accepted the job.  She was a junior financial analyst at Scotiabank.  Her hard work paid off in the best way possible.  Yes, she had a boyfriend, the best boyfriend in the world – but now, she had a job.  She had a career.  She had everything she had ever wanted.

Morgan was, of course, over the moon when she told him.  So over the moon, in fact, that the Leafs won their next two games against Anaheim and Ottawa.  She was able to go to both games after her training, just a short walk to the ACC from Scotia Plaza.  He asked so many questions and was so interested in everything she would be doing.  He was like a little kid in a candy store.  He wouldn’t shut up about it.  He told his teammates.  He told the wives and girlfriends (as if she hadn’t already).  He told Mike Babcock because, well, he just happened to be listening at the time.  He told the Uber Eats delivery man when he dropped off their food that night, a celebratory feast on Indian food.  He’d tell a park bench if it listened.  

But, like always, then he had to leave.  A thirteen day road trip for the team.  He cursed the fact that after all these big events, he always had to leave, and they could never properly celebrate.  They couldn’t even properly celebrate their first Valentine’s Day, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it.  There wasn’t exactly anything any of the other wives or girlfriends could do about it, so instead of wallowing in self-pity, Alannah had organized a “Galentine’s Day” night over at hers and Zach’s place.  The boys were facing the Vegas Golden Knights tonight, and the girls could at least watch the game together while eating junk food and sipping on mimosas and mocktails rather than spend the night alone.  

Until then, Bee found herself with Aryne, who was apparently feeling particularly stir-crazy.  There was a week of paid training before Bee assumed her full responsibilities, and in the time, Aryne made it her personal goal to meet with Bee everyday for lunch so they could check out places to eat in the financial district.  Today, they were at the Cactus Club, an import from western Canada that just opened a few blocks north of the Scotia Plaza.  Aryne had ordered them both a tuna poke bowl and non-alcoholic Valentine’s Day-themed drinks.  

They had been talking for a while, discussing who was going to be at Alannah’s place that night and what time Aryne would pick Bee up, when suddenly a shrill voice was heard from across the restaurant screaming, “Ohmigod, Aryne is that you?!”  Aryne and Bee both looked to their left, and Bee saw a beach blonde running over to them with a giant smile on her face.  

“Oh Lord,” Aryne mused under her breath as she smiled at the woman making a beeline.  

“Who’s that?” Bee asked, but it was too late.  The woman had approached their table and Aryne was smiling politely at her.

“So nice to see you here!” the woman said, bending down and giving Aryne a hug, who didn’t bother getting up from her seat.  “I can’t believe I ran into you here of all places.  What are you doing here?”

“I’m having lunch with my friend,” Aryne said.  Why else would she be in a restaurant with another person sitting across from her?  “Bee, this is Sydney.  Sydney this is Bee McTa--”

“So you’re Bee?” she said slyly, not bothering to offer her hand for a polite shake.  “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“From who?” Bee asked.

“From Instagram,” Sydney said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  Bee got worried the second she mentioned it.  She didn’t even know who this Sydney was – why did she knew who Bee was?  What had she seen on Instagram that made her feel like she already knew who Bee was?  “I just love that Chanel bag that Morgan got you.”

“What have you been up to, Sydney?” Aryne intervened the split second she saw Bee’s eyebrows furrow.  “What brings you back to Toronto?”

“Well, I had my dress fitting at Kleinfeld today.  Jessica had a working lunch so I thought I’d come to Cactus Club and see what the food’s like,” she explained.  Bee had no idea who Jessica was and she wasn’t inclined in the slightest to ask.

“Jessica who?  Mulroney?” Aryne asked.

“Of course, Aryne.  Who else?” Sydney smiled.  “Anyway, the second dress was already ordered in Southampton so we’re waiting for that to come in for alterations as well.  Then there’s the veil and the flower wall and just, like, so many other things.”

“Should’ve eloped,” Aryne winked.

“Boomer wouldn’t want that,” she giggled, turning her attention back to Bee.  “You must know my fiancé Matt?  Or my father Boomer Esiason?”

Bee didn’t understand.  Did Sydney just ‘my father’ her a la Meghan McCain?  Was she just name-dropping people in the hopes that Bee would recognize who she was?  Why would she want anyone to recognize her?  Bee shook her head.  “I’m sorry, I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

“My fiancé is Matt Martin.  He plays for the Islanders.  He was on the Leafs last year,” her tone was light but she spoke in short sentences, talking to Bee like she was an idiot.  “Do you not know about hockey?”

“Not a lot, actually,” Bee tried to keep her voice as cordial as possible.  She could see Aryne trying to suppress a smirk.  “I’m usually too busy with work to learn about other teams, so I just stick to the Leafs.”

“Oh…” Sydney was taken aback by Bee’s answer, by Bee’s lack of interest in who she was, in Bee’s lack of caring about anything to do with her.  

“Bee’s a financial analyst with Scotiabank,” Aryne informed Sydney.

“And Morgan’s okay with that?”

A shiver ran up Bee’s spine.  “Why wouldn’t he be okay with that?”

“Morgan earns more than enough money for the both of you.  All the hockey players I know would love to have their girlfriends at home with them to help with the hockey schedule.  You know how boys are so dependent,” she tried to turn it into a joke.  “They can be so useless sometimes.”

Maybe her boy was dependent, but Morgan could get by on his own.  Bee didn’t like the insinuation that he was the only one that mattered in the relationship and that her needs took second place to his.  That’s not the way she lived her life, ever, and that’s not the way she and Morgan acted in their relationship.  “Morgan loves that I have my own career,” Bee said definitively, taking a sip of water to prevent her from saying anything else she might regret.

Sydney smiled politely.  “Well, I won’t keep you two much longer,” she gave a half smile to Bee before focusing on Aryne.  “Look for the invitation to come late May.  It’s going to be in Southampton.  We’ll provide hotel details.”

“Good luck with the rest of the planning,” Aryne smiled before Sydney walked away, readjusting a Prada bag on her shoulder.  Aryne looked back at Bee and gave her a look.  “Sorry about that.  I thought we’d be safe here.”

“Is she always like that?  Namedropping Jessicas and Boomers and who her husband is?” Bee asked.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Aryne rolled her eyes slightly.  “Her dad was a pro football player and now she’s getting married to Matt.  He played for the Islanders with John, then played in Toronto for two years, but now he’s back on the island.  She’s really close with Steph.”

Bee tried not to roll her eyes.  She didn’t like those types of people – those that would namedrop to get what they want or so they could let you know who they were.  It actually did say a lot about who they were, and to Bee, it wasn’t that good.  She didn’t even like it when Morgan did it all those months ago at Cibo.  “What did she mean she saw me on Instagram?” Bee asked.

“Well obviously we’ve been uploading pictures and stuff,” Aryne said, taking her phone out of her purse.  “But then there’s like, the fanpages or whatever.  She stalks them a bit to see what they say about her and Matt.”

“The what?”

“The fanpages.  You know, like the girls who somehow get a hold of our pictures and then post them on their accounts?” she phrased it as more of a question.  When she saw the confused look on Bee’s face, she shook her head.  “Oh come on Bee.  You have to know about them.”

“I know about the girls who send me messages telling me I’m fat and Morgan’s my sugardaddy,” she said bluntly.  Aryne knew about them too.  They laughed about them together.  “I don’t know about these so called fan-pages.  How do they get the pictures if our profiles are private?”

“Oh, they find their ways,” Aryne typed something into her phone and swiped through a few screens.  “It’s nothing horrible.  They literally just post pictures.  But…yeah.  Here’s you,” she said, showing Bee her phone over the table.

Bee took Aryne’s phone in her hands and swiped through the post from @theladyleafsoftoronto: ten pictures stolen from her Instagram account, from Ashley’s Instagram, and even from Lucy’s private one somehow.  Group shots of her with the girls.  None of her and Morgan together, thankfully, because those were few and far in between.  She had just posted her first one, series of photos of them together in Vancouver, after they got back from their trip.  She’d cleared her Instagram like Angie told her to, and she hoped they wouldn’t get out.

“Check out at NHL wives and girlfriends,” Aryne said the name of another account before she stuffed her face with contents of her poke bowl.  “Those girls should work for CSIS.”

Bee punched the handle into the search bar and immediately saw the account.  She didn’t have to scroll far to see the two different posts, each with another series of photos and videos of her.  Twenty total.  They had screengrabbed Instagram stories of her and Morgan kissing from Auston’s New Years Eve party and others, Boomerangs from Halloween in their costumes, and even went so far as to include one of the oldest pictures of herself she had posted to Instagram.  They were crazy.  And somehow – yup, of course, of-fucking-course – the series of photos of her and Morgan together from Vancouver were on there.  She didn’t even want to know how they got there.

“Wait…” Bee said as she noticed one specific picture.  Their backs were to the camera and they were standing on the seawall on Kitsilano Beach, where Andy brought them when they landed in Vancouver.  “That’s…that’s not…”

“What’s wrong?”

“One of these is Shirley’s picture,” she said.  “Shirley…she only posts to Facebook.  You mean to tell me they stalk her Facebook?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Aryne shrugged her shoulders.  “I told you.  They should work for CSIS.  They could get information on anyone.  Hell, if you didn’t even have an online presence they’d still find you.”

It was at that point, staring at the candid picture Shirley had taken of them in Vancouver, that Bee realized there was nothing she or Morgan could do about it.  Absolutely nothing.  They could switch on every privacy button they could, they could refuse to post – none of it mattered.  It would still end up somewhere.  It would still end up on an Instagram profile with almost 10,000 followers and fifty comments on the post.  It was completely out of their control.

So why bother?

“Jesus,” Bee shivered slightly, and it wasn’t because of the cold outside.  She handed Aryne’s phone back to her.  “I didn’t know…I mean, these girls must have a lot of time on their hands.”

“I know it’s a lot, but it’s not a big deal.  It happens to us all.  They all find it somehow.  The more you come to just accept that it’s gonna happen, the less freaked out you get when it does happen,” Aryne explained.  “The fact that you don’t care what they say helps, too.  Yours and Morgan’s relationship is strong and you’re better than what they say about you.  Other girls aren’t as strong as you.”

***

Bee had received a text with a picture of every Valentine Morgan found on his 13 day road trip followed by a heart and a message of “I can’t wait to see you”.  Now that he was finally on his way home, Bee sent him a text back: “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

She was restless.  All she wanted was him with her, beneath her, above her, beside her, behind her – she didn’t fucking care at this point.  She wanted touch him and to feel him so desperately she was willing to jump his bones the second he got in the door.  Hell, she’d meet him down in the parking garage if it meant getting her hands on him.  But with the last ounce of self-restraint she had, she put on her blush coloured baby doll lingerie set and waited for him on the bed.  

Even as she heard the door open and shut, she stayed in her position.  “Bumblebee?” Morgan called out, the sound of his bag hitting the floor loud in the quietness of the apartment.

“In here!”

She heard his footsteps make their way to the bedroom.  When he opened the door, he was greeted with her, sitting on the bed on her knees in her lingerie.  He stopped for a moment, taking in the scene before him.  “Well well well…happy belated Valentine’s Day to me,” he hummed.

“Happy Valentine’s Day baby,” she smiled, noticing he had something in his hand.  “What’s that?”

“Your valentines,” he said.  “Wanted to give you a kiss for every one you left me, but it seems like you have other plans in mind,” he licked his lips.  “I’ve never seen this before.”

“I was keeping it a secret.”

“Oh were you,” he sauntered over to her, making a come hither motion with his finger.  She moved towards the edge of the bed where he was standing, slipping her arms around his neck.  “I mean it.  Thirteen kisses,” he mumbled, grabbing hold of the flesh at her hips before giving her the first kiss.  “I love the pink,” he mumbled.

“I knew you would,” she said, biting his bottom lip.  “God, I missed you so fucking much.”

“I missed you too, Briony.  But I’m home now.”

She kissed him again, unable to wait any longer.  They definitely gave each other more than thirteen kisses as they made out, but she wasn’t exactly complaining.  Morgan’s hands on her flesh were intoxicating and all she wanted to feel.  She wasted no time in ridding him of his clothes.  He moved quickly to put the valentines on the dresser so he wouldn’t lose them.  

“Lie on the bed,” she directed him when he came back.

“What?”

“I said lie on the bed,” she repeated as she made way for him to do just that.

“What are you --”

“Can you stop asking questions and just lie on the bed!” she giggled, pulling him down so he had no choice.  Crawling in between his legs, she couldn’t help but smile as he put his hands behind his head to view her.  She grabbed a pillow for him so he could use it in place of his hands.  She needed his hands for this.  “Did your cock miss me?”

“Mmmm, you have no idea,” he said, his voice low.  

She helped him out of his boxer-briefs and scratched her nails teasingly down his thighs.  When she finally grabbed hold of his cock, she smiled before kissing the head gently.  Morgan bit down on his lip as he looked at her.  “C’mon baby.”

“Nuh-uh,” she shook her head, a devilish smile on her face.  “Nice and slow.”

He glared at her momentarily.  “Excuse me?”

“Nice and slow,” she repeated, her eyes flashing with revenge.  “I can tease too, you know.”

“What are you – wha…” he didn’t understand what she was trying to say, but then it hit him.  This was payback.  ‘Nice and slow’ was payback for their little impromptu rendezvous before Auston’s New Year’s Eve party, where he’d teased her so achingly slow with his fingers.  “Baby, please --”

“No,” she said definitively, licking the underside of his cock, but pulling away right after.  “Nice.  And.  Slow.”

He let out an exasperated sigh.  He knew he was going to pay for that one day.

 True to word, miraculously, she worked on his cock slow and steady, making sure to take her time with the foreplay and use all of her tricks that she knew would drive him wild: the moaning, the dirty talk, even the simple act of catching his eye while his cock was in her mouth and rolling them to the back of her head in pleasure.  His body felt like it was a thousand degrees as she worked her magic.  

When she began to take him deeper into her mouth and throat, he made sure to gather her hair in his hand as he guided her up and down his shaft.  Like always, his eyes rolled back when she would gag slightly, but because she was taking this all nice and slow, everything seemed heightened.  She was thoroughly enjoying herself and taking her time, and by her actions he knew she wasn’t forcing herself to do anything she was uncomfortable doing.  

“Feeling good, baby?” she asked quickly before taking him into her mouth again.

He grunted in appreciation, tightening his grip on her hair slightly.  “You’re so fucking good.”

She moaned a little before she sucked him from base to tip, ending with a pop.  “I wanna taste you baby.”

His breathing was hot and heavy.  “W-What?” he stuttered out.

“I want you to cum down my throat baby.  I want to taste you,” she cooed.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he moaned out, but before he could say anything else, she took him deep in her throat quickly, gagging, and he actively had to think about something else to prevent him from exploding right then and there.  He caught her eye as she looked up at him.  “I won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

She giggled.  “Good,” she said before continuing her actions.

True to his word, it wasn’t long before he began to lose control.  He tightened his grip on her hair one last time before he rocked his hips so he could push himself even deeper into her throat.  After one last moan and one last gag, she felt him shoot his hot load into her throat.  His breathing was erratic, his sighs more high-pitched than normal, and Bee let out a satisfied sound as she swallowed every bit of him.  

She continued sucking until she felt him get soft, ending with another pop and another devilish grin on her face.  “Happy Valentine’s Day, Morgan.”

“Hap…Hap…” he tried to speak, but he couldn’t.  He couldn’t even think straight.  “I can’t…I can’t…” he repeated, worried, still on a high.  He didn’t know what to do.  He couldn’t move, but he knew the night couldn’t end here.  No way.  He never wanted to not make her come, especially for Valentine’s Day celebration, but after doing so himself, like that, he didn’t know how long he’d have to take to recuperate.  Needless to say, he didn’t exactly want to wait either.  

“C’mon Morgan,” she whispered, her voice breathy and low, her lips grazing against his ear.  

His brain was fucking mush.  He wasn’t even sure where he was to be honest.  “I…I…” he tried to formulate a coherent thought, completely spent and still trying to catch his breath.

“C’mon baby.  I’m all dressed up,” she taunted him.

He watched her as she slipped her hand underneath her panties and began to touch herself.  He regained enough semblance of a conscience to realize he didn’t want her to be doing that.  He wanted to be the one.  “Stop,” he said as firmly as he could.  

She did as she was told.  She looked at him and a small smile crept onto her lips.  “How do you want me?” she asked.  

Just by the way she phrased it he was ready to explode again right then and there.  “Get on your knees,” he said, and she followed instructions, lying back on her knees to face him.  “Other way,” he directed, watching the surprise spread across her face as she did what she was told yet again.  

Finally regaining enough consciousness, he got on his knees too, getting behind her so her back was flush with his chest.  He wrapped his left arm around her slowly, making sure his fingers grazed her skin underneath the material of the babydoll.  His right hand was already playing with the lacy material of her underwear.  He kissed his way along her shoulder and up her neck until he got to her ear.  “You trust me?” he asked.

Bee nodded her head.  “I trust you.”

He gave her another tender kiss on her neck, his right hand already reaching over and slipping into the front of her panties to tease her hot core.  She jumped at his touch, knowing what he was about to do.  “I’m gonna start with one,” he whispered in her ear.

“Two.”

A shiver went up his spine.  “Two?”

She nodded her head.  “I want it so bad.”

He sighed contently, chuckling to himself at the desperation in her voice.  He began teasing her with two fingers, playing with her slick folds and rubbing circles on her clit as he continued to kiss and bite the skin along her neck and shoulders, definitely leaving marks.  He could feel her getting wetter with each passing moment and, lacking all self-control, he didn’t wait to push his fingers inside of her.  

She moaned at the action, grinding her hips against his hand as much as possible.  She snaked her hand along Morgan’s arm that wrapped around her body and intertwined her fingers with his.  “Fuck, Mo.”

“Feel good?” he bit down on her neck.

Bee could only nod her head as he curled his fingers in her, hitting the spot that made her shake in pleasure.  “Feels so fucking good,” she managed to breathe out.

His kisses were a mix of tender and hungry; his bites both loving and heated.  He bit his way back up to her ear.  “Are you gonna be a good girl for me Briony?” he asked.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes.  “Yes.”

“Are you gonna take more?”

“Yes.  Yes,” she said, desperate, grinding her hips again.  “Please Mo.  I want more.”

He slipped another finger in, now three fingers deep in her.  Bee shouted out slightly at the sensation, adjusting to the new feeling as much as she could before her body began reacting before her brain could.  A warm shiver went up her spine and she leaned back into Morgan, his chest slick with sweat.  “You okay?” he asked quickly.

“Go harder, Morgan.”

Was it possible to self-combust?  Because between the blowjob and this, he was sure he was going to spontaneously self-combust right then and there on the bed.  She knew just the right tone to use in her voice when she begged to drive him wild.  “You’re fucking desperate, aren’t you?”

“Please Morgan,” she begged again, bringing her free hand up to yank at his hair, pulling him so she could give him a sloppy kiss.  

His fingers continued to curl inside her and she moaned out in pleasure.  This time, he tightened the grip his arm had around her body, limiting her movement so she couldn’t grind against his hand as much.  He knew how much she liked when he held her hips down while he ate her out, making sure the responsibility of her pleasure was in his hands the most, and he figured she’d enjoy it just as much in this situation too.  A whine escaped her as she realized what he was doing; despite her best effort, she wasn’t able to grind down as much.  “Harder,” she panted out.

Losing any semblance of restraint he had left, he began pumping his three fingers in and out of her quickly, much to her wish and indulgence.  Her moans were loud and desperate, long and throaty, while, by some miracle, he was still rubbing against her clit and he was still kissing and biting down on the sensitive skin on her neck.  It was all too much for her – the different sensations in different places – and her body became hot and she could feel her orgasm already building as Morgan continued to work.  “Morgaaaaaaannnnn,” she elongated his name, pleading with him to continue exactly what he was doing.  

“You like that, huh,” he mumbled against her skin, making her nod her head.  “You’re so fucking desperate for me to fuck you like this.”

“Morgan, please,” she didn’t know what else to say.  She knew it was all she was saying but she could barely form a coherent thought.  This was so unlike anything they’d ever done; although he had fingered her before, it was never like this.  It was never this hot and this steamy and this raw.  She was so close she felt like she was going to explode already.  “I’m so close.”

“Then make a fucking mess, Briony.”

That’s it.  She’s lost it.  She cried out loudly, repeating his name over and over again as he curled his fingers in her one last time, making sure it lasted as long as it could as she collapsed against his body, her head leaning back onto his shoulder.  Her legs felt like jelly and her hair stuck against his skin.  

His fingers were still in her and her thighs were wet as he gave her a tender kiss.  “You’re such a good girl for me.  Always such a good girl,” he whispered.

“Again.”

He stopped momentarily.  He wasn’t expecting to hear that.  “What?”

“More.  And again.”

The shock was written all over his face, but she couldn’t see because between not facing him and her eyes rolling to the back of her head, she couldn’t see much of anything.  “I…you want more?” he clarified.

“Keep going,” she nodded her head.  “I want more.  Keep going until I can’t scream anymore.”

In a snap second he realized what she was asking him to do.  “Are you sure?” he asked one more time.

“Positive.  Go wild, baby.”

He practically growled at her request, tightening his grip around her once more and starting to move his fingers in and out of her again.  “You gonna take it all like a good girl?”

“Like your good girl.”

“Mmmmm, that’s right.  You’re my good girl,” he licked at her jawline.  “You ready?”

Bee nodded her head.  She whimpered when he curled his fingers and began pounding them into her even harder than before.  She felt so warm and wet and the sounds they were making, the moaning and the screaming and the panting, the squelching of her wetness against his hands, it was all so hot and heavy and neither Morgan nor Bee could get enough.  “Mooorrrrgaaannnnn, fuck you’re so good baby,” she cried out.

“You want to come again, Briony?  So desperate for me to make you come again?” he tormented her.

“Yes baby.  Over and over.”

“Over and over till you can’t walk tomorrow.”

“Yes!” she screamed out, apparently loving the idea.  “Yes baby.  Because of you.  Only you get to do this to my pussy.”

“You gonna make another mess?”

“Yes.  Yes Morgan.  Always.”

“You gonna come for me?”

“Only for you baby,” she turned her head as much as possible to kiss him.  “Don’t stop, baby.  Keep going until I can’t fucking take it anymore.”

Morgan did just that.  Over and over Bee cried out, losing control, screaming, panting, her body being shattered as waves of pleasure continually washed over her, non-stop, especially after Morgan slipped a fourth finger into her, stretching her completely and filling her like she hadn’t been filled before.  Her body felt like it was on fire as Morgan held her up in his arm, but the constant state of orgasm and the more overstimulation she felt, the more her body began to feel like it was going to collapse onto the bed at any given moment.  

The longer they went, the more orgasms she had, and the longer they went, the more Morgan recovered and began to feel hard again.  He didn’t even know how long they’d been going for, but because of the overstimulation, his non-stop movements, and the fact that Bee hadn’t been silent since they started, he also wasn’t truly sure how many orgasms she’d had.  “How many?”

She didn’t answer at first.  She couldn’t answer.  She was so wrecked she didn’t know words were a thing she could use.  “How many, Briony?” Morgan repeated.

“I d’know,” she let out quickly.  

“You wanted this baby.  How many?” he demanded an answer from her.  

“I don’t…I don’t know,” her moans were broken, her skin shining from the sweat.  “It’s so much.”  A rose flush had taken over her body.  His fingers hadn’t stopped.  She was too concentrated on the feeling; the feeling of pleasure but also the feeling of being completely lost to another person, her pleasure in his control, and feeling one hundred percent safe about it.  

“C’mon baby, you can keep going,” he encouraged her.  

“Morgan,” she cried out, so hot and so wet and so…so willing to keep going.

“C’mon, you can do it again, huh?  Like a good girl?  Like my good girl?”  His voice was soft instead of demanding, filled with love instead of forcing her to do something.  

“Y…Yes,” she panted out.  All she knew was that she was close, she was so close, but she wasn’t done yet.  It was a lot, almost too much, definitely more than she had ever felt before, but she wanted to keep going.  

“That’s my good girl,” Morgan cooed as he placed a kiss on her temple.  “I’m almost ready, okay?  But you’re being such a good girl.”

“Fuck me when you’re ready,” her voice was hoarse and strained.  

“Don’t worry baby.  I’ll fill you up like I always do.  Stretch that pretty pussy how you like it.”

“Mmmmmmm fuck, keep going Morgan.  Keep going,” she whimpered.  

“C’mon baby, you can take it.  You can take it,” Morgan hummed as he began moving his fingers inside her again.  She was so sensitive that any movement sent her over the edge quickly.  She cried out his name over and over, his fingers and her thighs absolutely fucking soaked, and it wasn’t long before he felt her walls clench around his fingers again, and again, and again.  

Finally, finally, the arm keeping her up loosened, his hand going to his cock to stroke himself and get him as hard as he could.  She immediately collapsed down, hitting the sheets as he teased at her entrance.  It wasn’t long before he pulled her by her hair, slick with the sweat from their bodies, and brought her back to be flush with his chest.  “Are you okay baby?” he asked.  She barely nodded her head.  “One more?”

She closed her eyes, another barely there nod.  “I need your cock deep inside me.”

He entered her in one quick go, gasping at how fucking wet she was and how fucking easy it was to slide in to her aching, hot pussy as she collapsed on the bed again, ass up in the air for him.  He knew he wasn’t going to last long, his hard thrusts burying his cock deep inside of her.  She screamed and moaned and whimpered over every movement, practically sobbing at the feeling of feeling completely and absolutely wrecked by Morgan.  When she felt his hot cum squirt inside her, one last orgasm – after way too many to count – ripped through her body, sending her into one last rush of pleasure before Morgan collapsed on top of her body, cock softening inside her but refusing to pull out.

It was a long time before they came back down to earth.  Bee’s heart was threatening beat right out of her chest, the overstimulation still running rampant through her, especially since Morgan’s cock was still inside her.  She took some deep breaths to try and calm herself.  When Morgan’s arm wrapped around her and he shifted their bodies slightly so he was spooning her, he placed tender kisses along her shoulder, now absolutely ravaged with red hickeys and bite marks, and she felt her heartbeat slow down a bit.

“You okay, baby?” he whispered.

At first, she could only nod her head.  Her throat was so dry it hurt to speak.  She wondered if she would have a voice tomorrow.  “I’m okay.”

“You did so good baby.  You were so good for me,” he cooed, giving her another tender kiss.  “Always such a good girl.”

She couldn’t get enough of him calling her his good girl.  She knew she was always good for him, to him, but he was good to her and for her, too.  She twisted her body so she could somewhat see him yet still keep his cock inside her.  She was absolutely spent, just absolutely destroyed, but she wanted to see the face of the man who made her feel this way; the face of the man who indulged her every want but always kept her needs in mind.  “Thank you, baby,” she whispered.  She wouldn’t have been confident doing this with anybody else, and for that, she was truly thankful.  She could completely lose herself to him and know she would be safe.  She knew he would explore this with her but always keep her in control.  

“Thank you, baby,” he kissed her.  “I love you so much.  I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No.  No, you didn’t hurt me.  It was better than what I wanted.  I love you too.”

“You wanna clean u--”

“No,” Bee said as he began to move.  Her desperate hand on his skin stopped his movements.  She knew it probably wasn’t the best decision but she didn’t care.  “I don’t care right now.  Just stay here with me.”

Morgan nestled back into her, arm draping over her body as he pulled her close against his chest, their bodies still slick with sweat.  She’d kill him once she realized what her shoulders and neck looked like, but for now, all he could do was kiss the skin peppered with love bites until they both drifted off to sleep.