#just refreshing my email every 6 minutes to see if my manager emailed me back

[anyshapebutsquare]

*screams*

[jamies001fan]

You Weren't There

pairing: Jamie x fem!reader summary: Jamie messed up, big time. Once he realizes what he's done, can he make it up to you? requested: yes! warnings: tears (a lot of them), mentions of anxiety but not any attacks, Jamie being a sweetheart & knowing he needs to make it better, a brief make out + 1 hickey, mention of Harry Styles bc he always cheers me up but y'all can picture whatever song you want wc: 8,474

“Love, I promise, once filming gets done, I’ll be at the showing! You know I’d never miss your beautiful work, angel.” He sounded serious because, well, he was. You had been over the moon with excitement for the past 3 months ever since you found out that you’d won a local art contest. The winners had their works shown in the largest gallery in the area, and it was a true dream for you to have others see the hard work you put into your paintings. Sure, the gallery wasn’t as large as MoMA or the MET, but thousands of people went daily to view the incredible art that was already there. Painting was a passion you had, and you didn’t bother trying to hide it. Everyone you knew either found out from you, from Jamie, or from the numerous photos you always shared. And thanks to the constant support and encouragement, you always felt confident with what you created.

“Filming gets over at 8pm, and it’s a 45 minute drive here, please be careful, Jamie!” You speak fast into the direction of your phone that’s currently on speaker as you finish putting your shoes on. Your eyes glance to your watch and see the bold numbers say ‘6:30pm’, and your heart skips a beat. “The showing starts in 30 minutes, baby. Even if you aren’t gonna be there until around 9, I know people are going to want to see you as well!” The words are spoken with an obvious tone of anxiousness as you picked up your purse and headed towards the door, your uber just pulling up as you walked outside.

“Like I said, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. But the real art is you, and you need to get going! I’ll text you when I’m on my way, baby. I love you!” The words made you feel less anxious as you said your goodbyes to each other and got in the uber. Your heart was beating fast from both nervousness and excitement the closer you got to the gallery. You were still trying to process how you managed to win, despite so many other talented individuals being in the contest with you. Countless nights where Jamie had to nearly carry you away from your computer because you were refreshing your emails every 5 minutes to see if you’d been chosen as the winner. Suspense was never your friend, but the 2 weeks where you didn’t hear anything back from anyone? It was surprising that you hadn’t lost your mind at least once. 

The uber finally reached the gallery and you took several deep breaths after getting out of the car. Your thoughts were scattered, ‘what if no one actually likes my work?’, ‘no one's gonna know who I am.’, ‘is this really happening?’. But the one that was in the front of your mind, ‘I can’t wait for Jamie to see this, he’s been so excited for me.’. Before you started walking, you glanced at your watch and saw the numbers read ‘6:28pm’. It took a moment to hype yourself up before you made your way up the small staircase and pulled the door open, familiar faces already coming into view. Within seconds of walking inside, your close friends made their way towards you, congratulating you on your work. It was obvious that you were nervous, if Jamie were with you, you would be attached to him at the hip. He knew that you sometimes got nervous with crowds, and he didn’t mind speaking for you if he knew you weren’t up to it. 

You gradually made your way over to where your painting was, the golden frame around it making your heart skip a beat. A smile spread across your face as you noticed more people looking at it, a small crowd forming in front of you. Your eyes kept glancing at your phone, keeping an eye out for a text from Jamie. Every now and then you’d have people ask you questions about your work, which you gladly answered with more passion each time. Hearing others tell you how they interpret your work was also interesting, as there was obviously no right or wrong answer. The way that art makes everyone feel a different way, whether it be paintings, music, photography, or writing, it all makes everyone feel something, and you love it. 

You didn’t realize how late it had gotten until you checked your watch and the numbers read ‘9:30pm’. In a moment of panic, you check your phone thinking you missed a text from Jamie, and you felt your heart drop when there was nothing there. Just as you were about to text him to see if he was okay, one of your friends walked over and pulled you into a short hug, making your sudden anxiety go down a little. Another 30 minutes had passed without a word from him, and you felt like you could cry. The showing was over, and he hadn’t showed up, or even facetimed. Luckily, one of your friends drove you home, but the silence was deafening as you finally pulled into your driveway. Exchanging goodbyes and goodnights, you made your way inside, locking the door and leaning on it as you felt tears roll down your cheeks. 

Noise from inside your bedroom only made the small anger inside you grow as you slowly moved to the door. It was ajar, and you could see Jamie on the bed watching tv, not a care in the world as to where you were. You push the door open and his eyes meet yours for not even a second, making you step in front of the tv. He had the audacity to ask you to move, and you only scoffed, turning the tv off. The silence filled the room for what seemed like hours, and the single illuminated lamp that was next to him made his features more prominent, as much as you hated to admit in the moment. As much as you didn’t want him to say anything to you that might piss you off, you knew it was going to happen, and you wanted to see how deep of a hole he would dig himself.

“Love, why did you do that? The show was almost finished.” He sounded annoyed. As if you had interrupted something important to him. You could tell he didn’t know about the showing, and that he forgot to text you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. “Don’t just stand there, either move or turn the tv back on. Can’t just turn it off when you want attention, I gave you attention earlier.” His hand moved to the remote, but yours blocked the sensor so it wouldn’t work, resulting in an eye roll from him. “What’s the matter, broke a nail?” The question was complete sarcasm, and you hated it.

“What’s the matter?” You asked in a low voice, an angry voice. “Maybe the fact that I was at my art showing for 4 hours without you texting or calling once. Or the fact that you weren’t there to drive me home? I knew you had filming to do, but you promised you’d show up, and you didn’t. My friends were asking where you were, and I said you were busy, preoccupied. I had strangers keep me company because you weren’t there. So I'm mad, Jamie. Actually, that’s an understatement. I’m livid right now. I wanted my other half, my better half, my partner of 3 years to be by my side, and he wasn’t. Don’t you dare act like I’m the bad guy for turning off your show, when you didn’t show up for me like you promised. Or do you not remember our conversation from earlier? Because I do, and that only makes it hurt more.” Tears were streaming down your face as you spoke, and his eyes went more wide than you’d ever seen.

“Shit. Baby, I’m so, so, so sorry.��� He jumped off the bed and ran to hug you, slightly picking you up off the floor as he held you close to him. “After filming the guys wanted to get drinks and-”

“Drinks?” You cut him off as you pushed him away from you, fire in your eyes. “You got drinks with the guys instead of being there for your own partner? How long were you out for?” Your brief interrogation caught him off guard, but by the look in his eyes, you didn’t want to know the answer. His mouth opened to speak but you put your hand up, immediately silencing him. “You went out and had a few too many drinks as I was trying to not get overwhelmed with the amount of people around me. You know how I am with crowds, Jamie, and you just didn’t bother showing up? Your buddies were more important than me? I can’t fucking believe this.” Your throat had that pain in it, the feeling when you’re about to start sobbing but feel the need to hold back until you’re alone.

“I promise I had every intention of going to your showing, my love. Time just sort of.. got away from me.” His hand cautiously reached up the side of your face, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. More than anything, you wanted to lean into his simple touch, to pull him into you and feel him mold against you like the two pieces of a puzzle you both were. But your anger was too strong, not even the warmth of his hand on your cheek was enough to settle the fire inside of you. You could tell he thought he was in the clear from how he was leaning closer to kiss you, and you let him believe he was allowed for a second before you placed a firm hand on his chest, effectively keeping him at arm's length.

“Time got away from you, huh?” You asked calmly, rubbing your thumb against the soft material of his shirt, before pressing your pointer finger to his chest. He nods his head with a smile so small you’d have to squint to see it. “Lost track of it for so long that you didn’t think to check the watch you still have on? Or any of the numerous clocks on the wall of the bar, or even have a friend tell you? I doubt that the guys were holding you hostage, keeping you away from me. In fact, you told me that they were happy for me and that they wanted photos from the showing. You think saying sorry is gonna fix this? That it’ll be forgiven after you kiss me longer than 5 seconds? No, Jamie, you messed up. I don’t know how you can fix this, but it’s your own mistake, you find a way.” He let out a groan as you had fully backed him into a wall, tears again streaming down your face.

This was the first time you had ever seen Jamie really speechless. Sure, there were a few times you kissed him that left him mesmerized, but you could tell he was genuinely upset at how badly he messed up. He let you walk away from him and into the bathroom, locking the door behind you. Nearly the second the lock clicked, you were sliding down the door as tears continued to roll down your now very flushed cheeks. You sloppily pried off your shoes, shoving them away as a throaty groan left you, a sudden burst of air flooding your lungs after not breathing for an unknown time. The choked sobs from the other side of the door made Jamie’s heart ache, especially since he knew he was the cause. He walked over to the door slowly, hoping that some way you might sense him and know how ashamed he felt.

There were no other thoughts in his mind other than how badly he wanted to wrap his arms around you. When you have your moments, the moments where you can’t stop yourself from crying, he’s always right next to you. Holding you contently, listening to you ramble about whatever has you upset, wiping your tears with his thumb, playing whatever show or movie you wanted to watch to try and keep your mind off whatever hell your day had been. After consoling you many times, he knew how long it sometimes took you to cool down, whether he was helping or not. Even if he was the cause, even if he couldn’t hold your shaking body while you sobbed, he’d kick himself if he didn’t wait for you to be okay. 

After not hearing anything for about 5 minutes, he thought it would make your night a tad bit easier if you had food to eat. You almost always asked him for a snack after a particularly emotional time, and he was never one to say no. It was always something simple; some crackers, half of a sandwich, fruit slices, he knew that something too heavy made your stomach hurt more after the tears. Sadly for you, a snack was the last thing on your mind. Your audible sobs had turned into silent cries, still very much happening and making your heart hurt more with each second. Did you want to forgive and forget this whole situation? More than anything. But you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him so easily with this, considering he knew how important this was for you.

Your eyes were puffy, nose bright red, and throat sore. Still, you knew your barely there hunger was more important than you sitting on the ground. With slight hesitation, you opened the door and nearly fell forward from sitting down, not that it would’ve made the situation much worse. It would take time for the dizziness and pressure on your head to fully go away, so you weren’t planning to move fast. No sounds were anywhere within range, and you almost wanted to start crying again. Jamie always stuck around to make sure you were okay, so why didn’t he this time? ‘Was he that annoyed with you?’ ‘Or did he go out to the bar again, wanting to get drunk over seeing you like this?’ The thoughts invaded your mind as you slowly made your way to your feet, leaning on your bed frame as you tried to steady yourself. 

Gradually making your way out of your room, you can’t ignore how your heart skips a beat when you see Jamie sitting on the couch. He doesn’t see you at first, only looking up from his phone when he notices movement from the corner of his eye. His heart breaks more when he sees your face, the faded makeup around your eyes from you wiping away tears, your lips dry from having to breathe through your mouth due to your nose being stuffy. Emotions were out of the question as he stood up from the couch and stepped over to you, pulling you into him. That caused more tears to come from you, these being more out of defeat than sadness.  A weak yelp came from you as you felt yourself being picked up and carried into the kitchen. Jamie sat you on the counter before going to the fridge and taking out the fruit slices he’d cut up earlier. You kept your face down so he wouldn’t see how bad you looked, even though you knew he didn’t care. Regardless how bad you thought you looked, he always thought you were the most angelic looking human to ever exist. His finger gently hooked under your chin, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. There wasn’t an ounce of judgment or annoyance that you could see, and it made your heart flutter. He gave you a small smile before reaching to get a fruit slice, holding it out for you to take.

You didn’t realize how much you really needed something in your stomach until you tasted the sweetness of the fruit in your mouth. It wasn’t a big slice, just enough to make you want more. After having about 5 more slices, you nodded to Jamie, signaling you weren’t wanting anymore. He turned around to put the rest of it away, mumbling under his breath how proud he was of you for eating something despite maybe not wanting to. Not 5 seconds passed before he was back in front of you, rubbing a hand on your back to try and calm you more. There was barely any space between you both as he wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled you closer to him again. The faded scent of his cologne made you lean into him more, burying your face in his neck.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, huh? It’s getting late, don’t want you sleeping in your fancy stuff.” He whispers, and you nod. You’d forgotten that you were still in your outfit, being preoccupied with your emotions for the past few hours. As Jamie picked you up again, you glanced at the clock on the stove and sighed to yourself when you saw the numbers flash ‘11:25’. Had you really spent that much time crying? Sure, you had a completely valid reason, but you hadn’t seen the time at all since you had been home. You’re sat on the bed and Jamie helps you change clothes, saying loving words to you the whole time. 

Too tired to argue with him, you let him lay next to you and wrap his arms around you. You missed the feeling of him holding you, even if you were still mad at him. The more you cuddled with him, the more relaxed you were, and you knew this was what you needed after being a wreck earlier. Time seems to freeze as you focus on the sound of his heartbeat, curling up more into his side as your tired eyes shut. His lips gently kissing the top of your head and his hand softly rubbing your back were the last things you felt before falling asleep, along with a barely audible “I love you, my angel.”

-

The distant scent of vanilla slowly pulled you from your sleeping state, and you smiled to yourself when you still saw Jamie lying next to you. He was awake and on his computer, probably typing an email for work, but you didn’t care enough to ask. One of his hands was on the blanket that was covering you, just so you’d feel him close to you. You notice how dark your room is, the only lights being Jamie's laptop, a candle on his bedside table, and the hallway light that was visible under your bedroom door. Your hand came from under the blanket and grabbed his, squeezing it lightly to say you were awake. Instinctively, he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss right above your knuckles. “Did you sleep well? Lit your favorite candle and turned the lights off, I know how sensitive you are to them after nights like the last one.” His voice was quiet as he turned his attention from his computer to you, not wanting to say the wrong thing but also not wanting to have too much noise right when you woke up. Your eyes meet his and the sapphire sparkles in the dim lighting, no doubt making you fall in love with him even more. A small grin comes on your face as you nod at his question, cuddling into his side more and resting your head on his chest again. “I really do want to apologize for last night, angel. You shouldn’t have gone through that, and I know it’s entirely my fault. My dumbass drank too much, not that it’s an excuse. Is there any possible way I can make this up to you?” He nearly stuttered over his words, and it made your heart ache.

“I’m not gonna lie and say it’s okay, because it isn’t. I was heartbroken when I didn’t see you, Jamie. Then to see you just lounging around and hear that you went out drinking instead? You knew about this for months, I watched you write it on the calendar, and you still made other plans. I don’t know how you’re gonna get back from this one, but I’m hoping you put in more effort than you did last night.” You roll out of bed, grabbing clothes before going inside the bathroom to change. Several deep breaths escape from you as you try to not think about how you were curled against the door just last night. Not needing to go anywhere, you put on the sweatpants and hoodie you grabbed, both smelling faintly of Jamie’s cologne. Your mind drifts off, thinking about how tightly he hugged you last night. His hugs made you feel so safe and protected. He made you feel whole, like you could do anything. When you first met him, you’d just recently come out of a somewhat long relationship. Sure, your now 3 years with Jamie wasn’t anything compared to your previous year and a half with your ex, but Jamie was the first partner you had that actually gave a shit. You knew this relationship would be different from the first week, after he surprised you with flowers just because he wanted to see you smile, or when he took the both of you on a much needed vacation and practically worshiped you the whole time. The first kiss you shared with him took your breath away, and you knew you were addicted to him. It felt like a drug, the way your love for him took over, and vice versa. Within 3 months of dating him, you couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. Pure magic is what it felt like on a daily basis, and your heart was full. Shuffling from your room pulls you from your thoughts as you open the bathroom door to see Jamie gone. A sigh leaves you while you walk into the kitchen and see a note on the countertop. “Making it up to you. I promise I’ll be back soon, don’t worry that pretty little head of yours. I love you, my angel. - Jamie”. Even the simple gesture of the note was enough to make your heartbeat a little quicker. There wasn’t a second that went by where Jamie didn’t love you and care about you. You both had your weak times like every other relationship on the planet, but there was never any bad blood between you both. He made sure you knew how much he loved you, whether it was with the actual words or gestures, he wanted you to feel appreciated and loved the second you woke up and the second you went to bed. Time went slowly the whole day, and very few messages from Jamie came your way. The occasional ‘Be back soon’, ‘Missing your beautiful face’, ‘I love you so much, darling’, all to which you responded with ‘please be careful, miss and love you’. It wasn’t a busy day, chores were done and you didn’t have anything urgent to respond to. While you didn’t want to spend the day wondering what he was doing, there was nothing else grabbing your attention. TV was crap and you didn’t feel like going out, not that you would on a weekday. Every bar/outing area was probably full to capacity and you really weren’t in the mood to be squeezed like a sardine in between people that were too drunk or high (or both) to care about your well being. All you felt like doing was having a quiet time to yourself, and that’s exactly what you did.

You don’t remember dozing off, but suddenly you were being woken up by Jamie’s lips on your cheek and his hand on your side. His eyes meet yours as they open, that golden smile making your cheeks turn the slightest shade of red. The silence between you was comfortable as he helped you up from where you laid on the couch. He led you into the kitchen and lifted you onto the countertop, standing in front of you until there was no room left between the two of you. Once his hands found a home on your thighs, a passionate kiss was pressed to your lips. It was the kind of kiss that took your breath away, like how he kissed you for the first time. There was no hesitation as you deepened the kiss, combing your hands through his hair and tugging lightly, earning a groan from him.

The kiss never broke as he carried you from the kitchen to your bedroom, laying you down as he got on top of you. Your legs wrap around his waist to keep him where he is, and his focus changes from your lips to your neck. He finds your sweet spot within seconds and sucks a faint mark onto your skin. You let out a quiet gasp as he presses another kiss onto the sensitive skin of your neck before pulling away. There’s no time to mutter out a word before he gives one more deep kiss to your lips, making you want more. To your dismay, he moves from you completely, freeing himself from your legs and rolling over to your side. A quiet laugh escapes him when he sees your face form a pout, and he places a delicate kiss on the tip of your nose.

“That was a treat for both of us, I could tell you needed a little pick-me-up recently. It’s luckily still early in the day, so what do you say we spend some much needed time together? We can do whatever you want, and we’ll stay out until you want to come home.” He crossed his arms and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t badly annoyed, just upset at yourself for letting him affect you this much. To say you wanted him to kiss you again and make you feel like you were on cloud 9 was an understatement, but the reminder in the back of your head that he wasn’t there for you kept poking through. It was easy for you to forgive and forget when the time was right, he knew this from all the times your friends pissed you off as a joke. However, he also knew that the bigger the fuck up, the longer it took you to find the heart to forgive a person, and he was determined to wait for as long as he needed to.

“As lovely as that sounds, could it wait until tomorrow? I’d like to mentally prepare myself for whatever it is we do.” You don’t mean for the words to come out as quietly as they did, but you felt shy for some reason. The both of you were normally touchy feely with each other, hugs and kisses were a part of your daily language. Even though you were still rightfully pissed at him, you did want to spend a day with Jamie. Just the two of you enjoying each other's company, maybe having a few too many drinks, or just doing whatever Jamie had planned; if anything. Your last date night was so long ago, the only thing you remembered was how it ended, it made you blush every time you thought about it.

“Of course my love, there’s not much to prepare for, but take all the time you need.” His words eased some anxieties you had as you looked over at him and met his eyes, making you blush and bite your lip from feeling bashful. He traces a finger across your cheek before tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear and gently rubbing your cheek with his thumb. You automatically lean into his touch and it makes both of you let out sighs of contentment. The moments where you could just be with each other, holding each other, whether you were talking or not, those were your favorite moments. Trying to find the space inside your heart to forgive him would eventually happen, but it wouldn’t happen so soon. Turning onto your side so your back was facing him, he knew he wasn’t in the clear, he only hoped that what he had planned would fix some of what he caused.

The rest of the day went as well as it could’ve gone, eating dinner with each other, the love never fading from the space. Jamie was being more flirty than normal, not that it was an issue. He tried following you into the bathroom for your shower, you only chuckled and kissed his cheek before closing the door in front of him. Certain phrases that he knew made you flustered were whispered in your ear when you were getting water, his arms wrapping around you from behind as you blushed from his words. Before you both fell asleep, Jamie pulled you closer to him and held you in place with his tattooed arm. You felt safe, protected from the outside world, you felt at home.

-

Your eyes fluttered open to a somewhat dark room, the sunlight peeking through the blinds and birds faintly chirping in the distance. Jamie’s arm was still draped over you, less tight than when you fell asleep, but still firmly keeping you in place. You lightly run your fingers across some of his tattoos, just admiring the beauty of the art on the human you were lucky enough to call yours. Gradually, your feather light touches pulled Jamie from his sleep, his own hand gently grabbing yours as he fully woke up. He ran his thumb over your knuckles, craning his head up just to the point where he’s able to press kisses from your wrist to your fingertips. 

“You ready to start the day, love? Can’t wait to see that beautiful face out and about. Check the closet, one of your friends sent their help picking your outfit when you were napping yesterday.” He presses a long kiss to your cheek before rolling out of bed, his morning voice echoing in your ears. Curiosity takes over as you kick the covers off and walk over to the doors, you didn’t know which friend came over, but they all definitely knew what your style was. The glance you gave to the mirror lasted longer than you thought it would after you changed clothes. Your hands gently went over the fabric and smoothed some of the wrinkles down to add the cherry on top. 

“Are you gonna be my date for the day? You know how much I love my arm candy.” His arms wrap around your waist from behind and you see his face appear beside yours, and you couldn’t even try to hide the smile on your face. A sweet kiss is pressed to the side of your neck as he squeezes you a little tighter. The warmth from his hands could be felt through your clothes as he gently rubbed circles on your sides, his small smile lighting up the room like it always did. Your hands rested on top of his as you fully leaned into him, his cologne invading your senses, almost making your brain fuzzy. Again, the silence between the two of you was comfortable, you could stay in this same position all day and you wouldn’t be upset, but you knew Jamie had plans for the both of you.

“Always love being your date, my angel. I’ll never get tired of it. But we have things to do today, let’s get going.” He spoke playfully in your ear as he lightly smacked your ass after the last sentence. It wasn’t in a sexual way, more like in a ‘we gotta go, i’ll follow you out’ way. The car ride to the downtown area was mostly quiet, the radio was turned down almost all the way, but the view outside the car was better than any music could’ve been. It was the time of year where the seasons were changing, and luckily the leaves hadn’t fallen off the trees yet. Different vibrant shades of orange, red, and yellow were everywhere, and the air was so crisp and just chilly enough to where you didn’t need a jacket on. 

Jamie’s glances over to you were missed as you looked out the window, but he didn’t care. As long as you had that smile on your face, the one that made his heart skip a beat when he saw it, the one where he knew you were genuinely happy, he was fine with seeing your side profile, he loved all angles of you the same. One of his hands moved from the steering wheel to your thigh out of instinct, lightly squeezing as his thumb caressed your clothes skin. You put your hand on top of his again and gave him a smile when he quickly looked over at you, your heart full already from the simple gesture. 

“Do I wanna ask why we’re driving down a dirt road?” You giggle lightly as you ask and you can see his face light up at the sound. He parks the car behind a rather large bush before turning to you, his eyes having a different look in them. Your eyebrow raises as he reaches to the backseat and reveals a silk blindfold. “Don’t tell me we’re about to do something, baby. I’m all for spicing things up, but we’re in a public place, in a car, and in the middle of nowhere. This is testing the limits even for you.” His chuckle is lighthearted as he puts the blindfold on your lap, looking at you with pure adoration. 

“If I say where we are, it’ll ruin the surprise. Put this on and I’ll help you out darling, nothing to be nervous about.” He presses a sweet kiss to your cheek and smiles when he sees your cheeks flush to a light shade of pink. No matter how many times he kisses you, he’ll never get tired of seeing you get flustered from it. You take a deep breath before you tie the blindfold over your eyes, careful to not get your hair tangled in it. Once it was fully covering your eyes, you searched for Jamie's hands in front of you. The familiar smoothness of his palm welcomed your hands as he squeezed them briefly before getting out of the car and rushing to your side.

“If you brought me to some weird ass place, I don’t even know an example, but if it’s something weird-” You cut yourself off with a laugh as you nearly trip over what you think is a tree branch. Jamie catches you, his ringed hands holding you a little more firmly as he guides you to wherever the hell you’re going. The ground beneath you turned from hard to soft, and you pictured it turning from dirt to grass. A slight whistle of wind makes goosebumps form and Jamie lovingly rubs your arms while giving you a sweet kiss on your lips. He stops suddenly, holding you in place as your heartbeat quickens with anticipation of what’s to come.

The blindfold is removed and your eyes take in the sight around you. Jamie brought you to a flower field, one that went as far as the eye could see. Sunflowers, daisies, peonies, and tulips were everywhere you looked in all directions. Even though the air was starting to get cooler, the flowers hadn’t started to wilt. It was like they were waiting for you to be there and appreciate the beauty that nature had to give before they went away for the winter. Apparently it looked like Jamie had been there earlier, the picnic setup on the ground in front of you looking like a dream you might’ve had at one point. You turn to him and he has his golden smile again, the one that makes you forget your troubles.

“I didn’t bring you to a weird ass place, I brought you to a cute ass place. You’ve always wanted a flower field picnic, so I figured why not have one now?” You both sat down on the blanket, the flowers consuming the both of you in the best way. All you saw were bright colors and Jamie, and that’s really all you cared for at the moment. The picnic was sweet, cheesy moments of you feeding each other strawberries, and loving moments where Jamie talked about the future he saw with you. Birds chirping in the trees caught your attention for a split second, leading to Jamie gently turning your attention back to him with a passionate kiss. It catches you off guard the slightest bit, but you don’t care. 

“I didn’t know how badly I needed this. Just an us day. I love how thoughtful your mind is, baby. Really means a lot to me.” You put your palm on his cheek and he leans into your touch. He pulls something from his pocket and holds it in his hand. Your hand moves to grab your cup, taking a sip of the juice Jamie poured for you. A flash of light from the corner of your eye makes you look back to Jamie, and you see he’s holding the necklace you found at the jewelry store the other week. Something about the design made your heart happy, and it wasn’t just the gems. Each of them had their own unique sparkle in the sunlight, the colors being as vibrant as the flowers you were surrounded by. 

“For the record, you look more gorgeous than this necklace ever will. But I knew it would make you smile, and that makes you look even more gorgeous.” Your heart swells at his words while you turn your body so he can put the necklace on you. It sits perfectly on your collarbone, and you swear that you can’t feel happier than that moment. “We’d better go if we want to have time for everything else.” He says after looking at the time. By looking around you, you could tell it wasn’t late in the day, which meant he had more planned. You were nervous, but more excited than anything else. 

You make your way back to his car and put everything away before hopping back in, wondering where Jamie would be taking you next. It was another quiet ride, occasionally making eye contact which made you smile, and made him squeeze your hand gently. The dirt road turned back to gravel, and you saw the familiar shops that you’d pretty much grown up with. A few more turns came, and then the name of your favorite café came into view and you turned to look at Jamie again, your hand holding his a little tighter. 

“How cliché, the place we had our first date. I love it.” You said it teasingly, but the love in your voice was unmistakable. He parked and got out, almost running to open your door so you didn’t have to, the natural gentleman in him jumping out. His hand took yours again, intertwining your fingers as you walked over to the door. The familiar scent of freshly baked sweets, amongst other things, filling the space around you. Jamie walked in behind you and got the attention of one of the employees who quickly made their way over to you. “We have your reserved spot right outside!” Your face turns to look at Jamie and you mouth ‘You reserved a spot?’ His hand on your back gently guiding you to the table was your answer, and the view made you stop in your tracks.

You were a local to the area, grown up not too far away from the main tourist attraction. Still, every time you came over, especially during the fall/winter times, you were mesmerized. The area looked like it could be right out of a tv show, all the café’s, arcades, even mini golf courses. All leading to a boardwalk that went out quite a bit over the crystal clear waters. During the summer it was always hot and even though it wasn’t a beach, the sea was still very populated during those months. Luckily you lived in a place that had actual cold seasons, not that 75℉/23℃ in December B.S., so it was like a winter wonderland in the cold. The sea hadn’t frozen over yet since the temperature hadn’t dropped that much, but the 65℉/18℃ was comfortable. Sounds of children laughing with their families flooded your ears while views of the sun just starting to set captivated your eyes. It almost looked like a rainbow in the sky, various purples, light blues, pinks, and gold colors painted across the cloudless canvas. 

Jamie snapped you out of your thoughts, pulling out your chair and pressing a kiss to your forehead. You sat down to look at the menu while Jamie went back inside. The slight breeze made you shiver, but you weren’t fully cold, it was nothing a hot chocolate couldn’t help. If the whole location wasn’t ‘movie-esque’ enough, a butterfly landed on the menu right in front of you. Its wings almost glimmering with the different colors above shining down on it. As quickly as it appeared, it flew away, right as Jamie came back with his hands full. 2 hot chocolates, cookies, mini doughnuts, and 2 slices of pumpkin pie were on the tray he held. 

“You weren’t looking at the menu, were you? My love, you know I already have your order memorized! We come here every year around this time, just wanted to spoil you a bit more tonight.” He kissed the top of your head before sitting down. Your hand came up to gently run over your necklace, feeling the detail of how everything fit together. Jamie held your other hand as he took a sip of his hot chocolate, the steam making his glasses slightly fog up. He didn’t want to overwhelm you with the food choices, he knew that if there was too much in front of you, you’d only pick at it and not have any. That was just one of the many reasons why you loved him, he always kept your feelings in mind, no matter what he did. Always making sure you were comfortable, and he always tried his best to make up for when he made mistakes.

“You’d think I know that by now, I mostly just check to see if anything new is added. It means a lot that you know what I get, I love that you pay attention to the small stuff.” You smile as you sip your hot chocolate before having a mini doughnut. It was as if time just stopped at that moment. Not only was the love of your life sitting across from you and looking at you like the goddess you were, but the sky continued to take your breath away. Nothing could’ve made this moment better, and you were happy that you got to spend it with the man who made your heart feel complete. “I really can’t believe you did this, Jamie. It’s all so stunning.” Your hands motion to the food in front of you and to the view around you. There were really no words to describe it other than beautiful. 

“Says the one who looks like that, you’re the stunning one, baby.” He looks you up and down while giving you that look, and you can’t help the redness that appears on your cheeks. You both continue to eat away at what he brought out, taking your time with the pie since it was your favorite. Eventually you finished everything, including the hot chocolate, and then made your way onto the boardwalk, your finger intertwined with Jamie’s. “We still have one more place to go, and I think you’ll appreciate this one. Even though the light is hitting you just right, we have to get going again.” His hand traced the side of your face as he spoke, and the way he looked at you made your heart flutter.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Jamie. I don’t know what else there could be to do!” You pull him in for a hug just as a strong gust of wind hits you. He holds you close to him in such a secure way, it felt like nothing could tear you two apart. Your face buried in his neck and his hands rubbing your back, the now prominent scent of his cologne, it was all overwhelming your senses in the best way. The look in his eye when he pulled away didn’t leave any room for guessing, you knew what thought he was having and you nodded your head. There was no hesitation as he pressed his lips to yours, and you only deepened the kiss as he pulled you closer to him. Sadly, it was over sooner than you wanted it to be, his hands finding a home on your hips.

“My love, we still have to go somewhere else. Come on, it’ll be the finishing touch for tonight.” Laughter follows his words as he sees your faux pouting face. His hand grabs yours again while you walk back to his car for the 2nd time that night. You didn’t ask where he was taking you, but you trusted him with your life and knew that he wouldn’t make you uncomfortable. The radio was slightly turned up for the first time that night and you saw that Jamie connected his aux. He started typing in a song and you were curious, your eyes softening as you heard the opening piano playing. “Is it a sad song? Technically yes. But I know Harry makes you happy, so I’m happy to play it for you.” A quick kiss landed on your cheek before he started driving, humming along to the song playing.

You kept looking at the areas out the window, trying to figure out where Jamie was taking you. It wasn’t until you saw the steps that you put the pieces together. Your eyes landed on Jamie as he parked the car, you could tell he was trying not to make eye contact because he didn’t want you to be upset. A quiet sigh escaped from you, and it made Jamie nearly flinch when he couldn’t figure out the meaning of it. When your hand reached over to gently turn his face in your direction, you couldn’t decipher the emotion his eyes showed. There was a mix of worry, dread, sympathy, panic, and love, and you could almost cry from seeing how nervous he was. 

“I’m not mad, baby. Not at all. I guess confused is a better term? Just didn’t think you’d want to be here.” You muttered the words more quietly than you intended, but he heard them loud and clear. He didn’t say anything back, instead getting out of the car and walking to your side as you unbuckled your seatbelt just as he made it over to you. Like earlier, he helped you out and intertwined your fingers as you made your way to the gallery entrance. Jamie pulled the key from his pocket and ignored your confused face for a second, unlocking the door and letting you in before him.

“I pulled a few strings, I had to see my beautiful girl's outstanding work.” Your heart beamed at his words for the hundredth time that night, walking behind him as he slowly approached the gold frame that still hung on the wall. “It’s absolutely magnificent, darling. There isn’t anything you can’t do.” He put an arm around your waist as you made your way over to him. You sadly couldn’t give him a more genuine smile as you remembered how you felt that night when he didn’t show up for you. The tears that spilled from you didn’t catch his attention, but the whimper that you tried to hold back did. The opportunity to turn your face away from him wasn’t an option as he turned you to fully face him.

“To say that I’m sorry is an understatement. There’s no excuse for how much of a dumbass i was. I knew this was happening, I made the plan to be here, and then it didn’t happen. I got too drunk and got a ride home, sobered up and just did my thing. Knowing that you were having a hard time, that you could’ve been having anxiety because I wasn’t there makes my heart break more every time I think about it. There will never be words to tell you how sorry I am, and I know that. Tonight wasn’t about you forgiving me, it was about me showing you how awful I felt, and still feel, about missing something that was so important and special to you. You always have been, and always will be the most important person in my life, and hearing you break down that night was one of the worst things I’ve ever heard, especially knowing I was the cause. You didn’t deserve that to happen, you only deserve the best, and I’m always going to be sorry that I caused you so much pain. The love of my life should never feel this way, my angel.” 

More tears came from you at his words, and you could see them forming in his eyes as well. His thumbs wiped away your tears gently, while one fell down his cheek. You don’t know how long you just stood in the silence, but when he pulled you in for another hug, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It was like all the stress and worry and anxiety from inside just came out at once. He didn’t stop comforting you, holding you while you shook like a leaf from crying so much. Your arms gripped him tighter, not wanting him to leave, even though you knew he wouldn’t. 

A shallow wave of relief came over him, he knew he was your safe place, and you were his. Though he couldn’t tell clearly if the tears were from how happy you were today, or if they were from you remembering how shitty you felt from the other night, he could tell the sigh you let out was from relief. Him letting you go wasn't a thought in his head at all when you hugged him even tighter, he just wanted to hold you until you felt better, until you felt whole again. If it took forever, he’d be there, after all, you were the love of his life, and he wanted to make sure you knew it.

-

a/n- again, i'm so, so very sorry for how long this took me to write. i wanted to make sure it was good since it's my first ever angst/fluff fic, and taking over 2 months was never what i planned on. i hope you all enjoy it, apologies once more 🤍

taglist: @hellfire-isnt-it, @hellfirebabes, @Ima1986 (wouldn't let me tag you) if you wanna be tagged in future fics, send me your user!

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Any tips got people starting their creative writing degree in September? Xxx

oh this is a great question!! sometimes I forget I will literally be an upper year next year :) how did this happen :) still feel like I’m in grade 9 :) lol! but I do have tips!

1. Trust in the process

Okay, this sounds a little gimmicky, but what I mean is, let things happen the way they’re going to happen. I was extremely prepared when I entered first year, and even more prepared for second year, and I’m not saying this is a bad thing--in fact, I recommend having something small (even an idea) at the ready, just in case of emergency writer’s block, time constraints, etc, but I’d love to go back in time and tell myself to chill! I wanted so badly to experience the idea of the Ideal Writing Degree Experience, and so kind of missed out on the actual (great) experience I had in front of me! so let it happen! Take creative risks! stray from your plan if your gut is telling you to!

2. Get involved

In first year, I found it SO helpful to get involved in writer events, or clubs on my campus. I joined my department’s lit journal (which I shall be managing in the fall!) as an intern, and made sure to attend most, if not all the writing events they had on campus, including general fine arts mixers. Though I am a super introverted person, it was actually super fun to make connections, and even so, just make memories of faces that I could later recognize on campus. This is also super helpful for getting to know people in your program! On orientation day, I really tried to huddle with some other Writing undergrads, and that was super fun because we just chatted about our writing backgrounds, etc! If you’re anxious like me, coming up with literal talking points could be helpful the night before, kind of like an “About Me” refresh?? Like, oh my name is Rachel and I write literary fiction, also I am from Toronto, would be what I would say in case someone asked (usually people were very excited to hear I was from out of province lol so this worked as a great talking point!). ALSO!! off campus events! go to readings! Readings are 100% more accessible to attend where I go to school versus where I live at home, and so I def took advantage of this by making sure to go out to multiple literary events! It’s nice to make connections, chat with the readers, or even other audience members! Usually people asked me if I was a student and what program I was in, etc, and because being a Writing major is kind of a Fun Thing To Be at a reading, this was always a great talking point!

3. Remember your writing degree is still work

I know a lot of creative degree pals give this advice to remind undergrads that their creative work for school is still work so they should sit down and do it rather than leaving it to the last minute, but I kind of like to flip this idea on its head by saying: it’s okay to prioritize your “non-academic” work versus your “traditionally academic” work! For example, I took many, many English classes this year, and put about 20x more of my time into those classes than my literal writing classes. I am a writing major?? lol! I could’ve gotten an English degree closer to home?? I did not come here for this?? I think it was easy for me to write off putting time into my writing classes because I was “good at that” and “needed to focus on my academic work” (whatever academic even means), but if you’re there for writing, don’t be afraid to actually... do your writing?? Fighting internalized stigma about my own degree is something I still work on! It’s still work! Which means it’s hard, and you should take breaks (and extensions if necessary/if you can) just like with any other work.

4. If you want to, prep a little

Like I mentioned above, this could be a helpful thing to do, though I do caution over preparation because that was me!! and I feel like one may learn more if they have more room to fail (which sometimes preparation reduces?) but this is also dependent on the type of person and student you are, so disregard if necessary! When I entered first year, I didn’t prep actual work, but made sure I knew what was expected of me so I could mentally prepare myself, haha. I knew there were 5 assignments for 5 different genres (because of COVID they actually axed 1 genre which I am GRATEFUL for rip playwriting), so I kept this in mind throughout the term. If I got an idea for a poem but knew we wouldn’t be doing poetry for the next term, I’d write the poem in advance, or write down the idea. A little bit of prep can help alleviate stress especially if you’re transitioning out of high school, but I do tend to overdo it!

5. SUBMIT your work!!!

This is also totally okay NOT to do if you don’t want to publish your work, but if you are interested in curating a portfolio, it doesn’t hurt to start submitting your work early to literary magazines! I know some people are too nervous to send out their work in first year, but if you’re comfortable with it and want to, go for it! I submitted my work for the first time in first year, and got 2 stories published. If you want to be published, you don’t have to wait for upper years to put your work out there! If you have a piece you like, send it out! This also includes on-campus writing contests if your school runs these. I entered one not thinking anything of it and won first place (HOW), and these experiences were fantastic in shaping my experience in the program and also showing me submitting your work is not so scary!

6. Talk to your profs and TAs

Y’ALL I did not realize how much I talk to my profs and TAs and how much the pandemic took that away from me! It’s so critical to form relationships with the people who are teaching you, not only because they’ll help you to shape your work, but also because they’re a great start to networking! In first year, I sat down with my TAs or prof for literally every single piece I wrote, and the amount I learned is astronomical. I guess this depends on your program, but generally, writing programs are generative based rather than super lecture heavy, and you learn by doing hands-on work (workshops, etc). I learned so much (sometimes, even more) by talking to my teachers. They want to help you and it’s a great way to get to know them. I only attended office hours once in COVID (and it was Zoom office hours), and I certainly feel a difference in my experience. Reach out! When I took an intro journalism course, my prof line-edited every one of my pieces by hand, and while it was nerve-wracking because she is a fantastic writer and a tough critic (and literally right in front of me), it was so rewarding when she’d point out where I’d improved. She was also great at taking her time to explain how I could better my piece. You can’t do that if you’re sitting in a 200 person lecture, but you can if you take some time for a one on one! Highly recommend if you can (coming from someone with social anxiety)!

7. Make friends

I will admit it! I still have not done a great job at this lol. But if you can, try to reach out to your peers. You’re all there to learn, and it’s actually so fantastic to meet likeminded people! My peers are incredibly talented, smart individuals, and when we’re in person, I’d love to chat with them more! In first year, it can be scary to reach out, which is why I did this minimally, though I still made an attempt to jump out of my comfort zone whenever possible. It’s nice to recognize faces on campus and wave at people/have a short conversation before you head into class. Like I said, I interned for my on campus lit journal in first year, so I had to reach out a few times to my classmates to participate in events etc, so this was actually kind of easier for me since I had a lil ~motive that allowed me to muster the courage to chat with people! It could be as easy as joining in on a convo of a subject of interest (for example, a lot of people at my school especially in my program, love D&D. I have no idea what that is/how that works, but if I did, this might be something to talk about if you love it also)! Also - follow people on social media if you can find them, or start a group chat!

8. Don’t be afraid to speak up for your needs

This will be my last tip, and it might be the scariest tip of all, but if you are not happy with how something is going in your degree/classes, speak up about it! If something is not accessible to you, don’t be afraid to speak out about that. Idk if it’s just me, but I’ve been advocating for the betterment of my education since elementary school (why am I like this loooool), but especially in university, you’d be surprised by how receptive some people can be! Shoot your prof or TA an email if you have concerns, and see what they say. Rarely, they can be assholes, but most of the time, they’ll try to work with you to make your class experience better. This is why I also recommend filling out your course evals. Most great profs really want their students to enjoy their classes and succeed, so don’t be nervous to speak out about your needs if xyz isn’t being met.

hope that helps!

[purplesurveys]

1157

survey by hxcsingingsk8r

Phone Scavenger Hunt

First off, what phone do you have? I have an iPhone 8.

And what provider do you use? It’s a local one you wouldn’t know about, called Globe.

How long have you had your current phone? I can’t remember if it would be 3 or 4 years this 2021. Either way, it’s definitely been a while and I’ve been itching to upgrade. It’s too early to make such a big purchase, though.

Do you have any cases for it? Describe them. I have a clear case that I bought last year. Before that, I had a pink Otterbox case that I managed to destroy even though Otterbox is normally known for its durability. I just have a very unique ability to wreck everything I’ve ever owned lol.

How old were you when you got your first cellphone? I was technically 6, but it was meant to be a present for my 7th birthday. We threw a birthday party a month in advance because my dad had to fly back abroad for work before my actual birthday, but we wanted him to be present at the celebration so we decided throwing a party early was the best route.

What about your first smartphone? [If the answer is different] It was an iPhone 5S.

How old are you now? Dunno what this has to do with the theme of the survey but I am now 22.

Okay, move onto the scavenger hunt part

What is your lock screen picture of? It’s of Kim Seon Ho at a restaurant, lmao.

Home screen? It’s one of the shots from a recent promotional photoshoot Hayley did for Good Dye Young.

How many pictures are thre currently on your phone? This question just made me so anxious hahaha. I have way too many photos; and upon checking, it turns out I currently have 6,266. My god do I need to clean up my camera roll this weekend.

How many videos? I have 227. I have no idea it’s gotten to be this many; I barely use my phone to take videos. I’ll go ahead and delete some of them right now, just to give my phone (and its storage) space to breathe.

What is your most recent picture of? It’s a work thing...I guess I’ll explain it so it can make more sense. So one of our clients has got this Lent campaign going on, and to spread word about it we’ve tapped a handful of food bloggers to try out the offers themselves and post about their experience on social media. Now that we’re in the middle of Holy Week they’ve gone ahead and uploaded their own posts, and I’m in charge of taking screenshots so I can show to the client that the execution had been successful.

And the most recent video? It’s a private vlog. Every Sunday, or at least every other Sunday I take a few minutes to sit down and do a weekly video thing where I talk about my ~mental~ and ~emotional~ status, and it’s basically a way to be in touch with myself and keep track of my progress. Who knows, maybe I’ll actually get to uploading them one day.

Do you have any albums? If so, of what? Yeah. I have one for Cooper, one for Kimi, and a bunch of tiny albums I’ve made where I compiled 4–5 photos of friends to post on their birthdays.

What pictures have you favorited? I have a lot of favorited photos. There’s no required category for me to label them as such.

Do you have any shared albums with friends or family or work? No. I’m not sure if I can do that, or how to do it if it is allowed.

Do you have any alarms set? For what time and for what occasions? I have a bunch of alarms but only because they’re archived into the Clock app and I just haven’t gotten around to deleting them. When I was still new at my work, I used to have alarms set for certain work tasks I have to take note of every week – but now that I’ve gotten into the groove of things, I don’t need the alarms to be reminded about them anymore.

Check your weather app, what is the weather and temperature where you live? It says ‘Mostly Clear’ and shows a temperature of 26ºC.

Do you have the YouTube app? Do you have your own channel? I do have the app and my own account, but I never use it to post videos. It’s nice to have my own channel so that my homepage can be tailored to my interests.

Do you have an email app? Which one do you use? I just have the default Email app that comes with iOS, but I never use it because it’s so wonky. It doesn’t refresh new emails and it takes forever when it does, and it doesn’t always show the full thread of email conversations. If I absolutely need to check my email for something I usually have to pull out my laptop.

Does it say that there is an update available on your phone or any apps? Yes, it reminds me everyday hahaha. I don’t update unless Apple has been planning a big revamp with new features, though; and if the updates are just to address bugs, I disregard the reminders.

Go into your contacts, how many contacts do you have total? It says I have 178.

Name all of your contacts under the letter M: Feels a tad bit invasive, so I’ll just name five people I have under M: Lui, Kim, Patrice, Danika, and Andi.

Name all of your contacts under the letter U: I don’t have anyone under U.

Do you have any contacts that are businesses rather than people? Which ones? No, I don’t really use text to contact businesses. If I wanted to inquire or order from one, I usually head to their social media page.

Go into your notes, how many notes do you have saved? This is another one I have a hoarding problem with lol. My phone says I currently have 561 notes, though I’m fairly certain the biggest chunk of it comes from minutes I’ve taken down from work meetings. It was a whole lot less when I was still in school.

What kinds of things do you save in your notes? Like I said, I use Notes for taking down minutes from meetings. There are also a few surveys on there, from times I didn’t have internet and couldn’t post them on here.

Do you have any voice memos saved? What of? Yep. Some of them were recordings I had to do for journalism classes I was assigned to do voiceovers; some are interviews, also from my journ class; and the rest are of me rambling.

Do you ever use the calculator app? Pretty frequently for work.

Do you ever use the Maps app? Not really. If I needed directions, I would check out Waze for that.

Do you have any health/fitness apps? Which ones? I still have the Nike Training app from the very brief time I wanted to start working out earlier this year.

Do you have the Instacart app? The what now? I’ve never even heard of that.

What about a delivery service like Postmates, Uber Eats, Grubhub, Doordash? I have the McDelivery app for McDonald’s, but I also have other general delivery apps like Grab, Lalamove, and Transportify.

Do you have something like Venmo, Cashapp, or Paypal? I have the Paypal app but I never use it. I also have a couple of e-wallet apps just in case I’d have to use them as a payment method, since some businesses  I purchase from prefer certain ones. Ultimately, though, I use Grab’s mobile wallet the most often.

Do you use Bitmoji? I think I did before? I never used it all that regularly though. Didn’t see the point.

What other keyboards do you use besides English? Any? Filipino, Korean, and Emoji.

Which social media network apps do you have? Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, YouTube, Tumblr, TikTok, and Snapchat. So I guess I have all the main ones?

If you have Instagram, what is your handle and how many followers? I have a very private one I only use for work. I didn’t want it to have any followers but at present there’s Angela (because she asked to follow it this week) and Bea (idk why).

What do you typically post on the various social media platforms? The only ones I regularly post on are Twitter and Facebook, and on either I share life updates (if there are any) and memes; though on Facebook I have to watch out what kind of memes I share and make sure they aren’t too offensive because I’m friends with relatives, workmates, and media on there lmao. But on Twitter, I basically have no filter.

Do you make TikTok videos? I don’t make any myself, but I do enjoy going through the app.

Do you only add people you know on Facebook? Yes, for the most part. I’ve taken to adding people as long as they’re from UP or my high school even though I’ve never met them as well, but if I sense that they only added me to try and sell me insurance OR try to get me into MLM, then it’s an instant unfriend for me.

Do you have an app that tracks Instagram followers? No, because I don’t need to track my Instagram followers. I’m off the radar as off the radar gets.

Do you have a Snapchat? Yeah, it’s still on my phone just because but I literally never touch it anymore.

Do you ever take selfies with filters? What app's filters do you use? Eh, just before. I don’t really take selfies anymore, period.

Do you use any apps like Depop or Poshmark or Etsy? No. Out of these three I’ve only ever heard of Etsy, too.

What messengers do you use to talk to people? Any besides just texting? I have Messenger to stay in touch with family and friends; Whatsapp and Viber for work; and Telegram just in case my friends want to play games.

Do you have any photo editing apps? Which ones? I have this app called Foodie that has some pretty filters. Otherwise, since I’m not on Instagram anyway I’m never on the lookout for photo editing apps; no one ever filters their photos on Facebook and Twitter lol.

Do you have any games? Which ones? I do have a ton of games on my phone. I never play any of them, but I keep them just in case I get bored enough to start revisiting them. I have word games, drinking games, games similar to Heads Up! where one person will have to guess the word on the screen while the phone is on their forehead, and gimmicky games like 1010! and Candy Crush haha.

Do you have any rideshare apps like Lyft or Uber? I have Grab, which is a rideshare, parcel delivery, food delivery, and online grocery app all in one.

Now go to the actual phone app, whose phone numbers are saved as favorites? I don’t tag any of my contacts as favorites.

Who was your most recent outgoing call to? I can’t recognize the number, so it was probably a Transportify driver that I called to give him directions to my house.

Who was your most recent incoming call from? I also can’t recognize the number, but this time he was most likely a Grab driver.

Who was your most recent missed call from? Again, can’t recognize the number HAHAA

Why did you miss that call? On purpose? Were you sleeping? Busy? My phone is on silent 24/7, so I must have missed it while I was working.

Who is your most recent voicemail from and what's it regarding? We don’t have voicemail in the Philippines.

What was the last thing you Googled or searched on your phone? Candle tunneling and how to fix it.

What music app do you use? Apple Music? Spotify? Something else? I use Spotify, but I also availed of a 3-month trial on Apple Music earlier this year just because. I think it’s supposed to end soon but I have no plans to shift.

What playlists have you made on there? I have playlists called, “robyn discovers kpop,” “winding down,” “angst,” “not my loss,” and my personal favorite, “paramore but fuck you.”

Lastly, what is the most recent song/album you've added to your collection? What Type of X - Jessi.

[unofficialkfamtranscripts]

King Falls AM - Episode 9: Jack in the Box Jesus

View on Google Docs

Summary: September 1, 2015 - An alleged sighting of the Lord & Savior at a downtown fast food restaurant has the residents of King Falls ready for deliverance, meanwhile Sammy & Ben try to navigate the flood waters of this revelation.

[podcast intro music]

Mayor Grisham Ladies and gentlemen, I promise you that while it is a terrible inconvenience that our modern electronics are out— this is not the end of the world. It could be a refreshing change of pace! Instead of reading, on your tablet, go down to the King Falls library, and check out the real thing! Instead of texting your BFF, go enjoy some pancake puppies at Rose’s! and have a face-to-face chat. This isn’t as bad as it seems— and it could be a blessing in disguise.

[KFAM intro music]

Sammy Good morning guys and dolls, you’re listening to King Falls AM—

Ben —That’s 660 on the radio dial.

Sammy And this is day 13 of what has been dubbed the King Falls Electrolocaust.

Ben This has easily been the hardest two weeks of my professional career.

Sammy It has been tough, but Ben and I want to thank you, and everyone out there listening, for the continuing support of the show.

Ben We got another doozy of a show for you tonight, King Falls. During hour two, we’ll be interviewing Maria Chandler, manager of the King Falls Apple store, and speaking about the effects the shut down has had on business.

Sammy As well as fielding your calls and talking about whatever’s clever this evening.

Ben I miss computers, Sammy. I miss the schedule. Our automated systems, my alarm clock. I’ve went through three the legal pads in two weeks!

Sammy [sympathetic] I know, buddy.

Ben I would literally watch Channel 13 if given the chance.

Sammy Wow. That’s saying a lot.

Ben [softly] I need my life back.

Sammy King Falls, how are you taking the modern electronic shut down of 2015? Are you refreshed? Reliving the mid-90s? Or— are you falling apart like our dear Ben Arnold?

Ben I’d listen to boy bands, to have a working smartphone. I’d wear, puka shell necklaces and sell my pog collection,[1] if you give me five minutes with my email.

Sammy Look on the bright side, Ben. You’re spending all your free time down at the library, and I haven’t called you out on it!

Ben That’s calling me out on it.

Sammy Eh-Well- and you know it’s nice hearing the birds tweeting instead of @kingfallsam. I’m not saying I don’t miss it but, I’m enjoying this a little bit.

Ben ♫It’s tearing up my heart when I’m with yoouu♫[2]

Sammy The references are not gonna bring back your goods.

Ben [hurt] Dammit Sammy, let’s just take a call from our jury-rigged phone system.

[bg music being provided by Chet’s record player]

Sammy You’re live with Sammy and Ben.

Cynthia Yeeaah, I wanna talk about the outages.

Sammy Cynthia Higgenbaum, ladies and gents. How are you doing during this electronic crisis?

Cynthia [blissful] I feel the warm embrace of the chastity belt that’s been placed on society. I’m relieved, de-stressed, marvelous!

Ben *chuckling* Whoa, heh, that’s- that’s a heck of a change!

Cynthia [suddenly aggressive] What are you trying to say, Ben?

Sammy It’s just you’re usually- you’ve been a little… pessimistic in the past.

Cynthia [mostly calm again] Ohhh, I still have problems; I’m full up with issues. But right now, I don’t have to worry about what websites my husband is perusing, what brain-dead TV my kids are watching— I’m at peace! It’s just me and my harlequin novels. Plus, with Jesus back and all—

Ben [jokingly suggestive] 50 Shades of Cynthia

Cynthia [angrily] Don’t be filthy Ben Arnold! I Know Your Mother!

Sammy I-I’m sorry, Cynthia— did you just say that Jesus is back?

Cynthia [gossipy tone] Have you guys not heard the news?

Ben Is she talking about Jesus Jesus?

Cynthia There’s only one.

Sammy Wellll, I think Mexico would disagree, but please tell us why you think Jesus—

Cynthia [snappy] I don’t think Sammy, I know! [softer] Earlier this evening, he was spotted glowing and speaking in tongues at Jack in the Box.[3]

Ben The one off Main Street or Red Oak Avenue?

Cynthia Ew, nobody does to Red Oak.

Sammy [softly] Jack-in-the-Box-Jesus.

Cynthia Oh, Hell no! I will not participate in that blasphemy. You’re gonna get smited—

Sammy Oh, I- I mean- I wasn’t- I’m sorry, I’m not meaning to, uh—

Cynthia Tell it to Satan! In Hell, Sammy! [hangs up forcefully]

[dial tone]

Ben This is big.

Sammy [slightly reluctant] If you or someone you know has had a sighting of *clears throat, Ben laughs* Jack in the Box Jesus please give us a call. Uh, 424-279-3858

Ben You’re on King Falls AM.

Deputy Troy Now I know what you’re thinking: how could the second coming of God’s only son happen and ol’ Troy here didn’t clue you in.

Ben Not what I was thinking.

Sammy What do you know Troy?

Deputy Troy Well I got a suspicious persons call out at ol’ Yack[sic] in the Box around 9. So, I hit the lights and cruised over to see what the fuss was about. And lo and behold, back by the dumpster with a mess of people looking on— there he was.

Sammy Now, are you really telling us that— [still reluctant] you saw, or, you believe you saw the son of God and the King of Kings bangin around outside the Jack In The Box?

Deputy Troy Well, he was a man. Somebody’s son, no doubt. Bearded. Good lookin’, if-if you’re into that sort of thing. He had a robe on—

Ben [cutting in]We can solve this right now. Was he white or was he black?

Deputy Troy He was more of a greenish color. Like a glow really.

Sammy The man had an aura around him.

Deputy Troy It was shinier than a damn Fukushima foxhound, fellas. Like, I felt a need to put on the old aviators, but I- I didn’t want to be cliché.

Sammy Alright, Troy. So, work with us here; you’re in the back of the Jack in the Box, there’s a uh, a Jesus-type guy—

Deputy Troy Just-a-ramblin’ on.

Ben Speaking in— tongues?

Deputy Troy Speaking in somethin. The last time I heard gibberish like that was comin’ from the back of my Chevy with Shell Snyder’s daughter.

Sammy So what happened next?

Deputy Troy Well a group of looky-loos had descended, as I said, and since it was only me, there was no perimeter set up yet. So I start ta approach this glowing Christ and somebody— Roy Higgins if you gotta know/— hollered out “It’s Jesus!” and the whole parking lot just went bonkers!

Ben Well, di-did you speak to the guy?

Deputy Troy Damn skippy. I told Roy that this was official police biz. And he shouldn’t be squawling around like a little baby.

Ben No, Jack in the Box Jesus.

Deputy Troy Oh, well no. I- I turned around and he was gone. Split right off into the woods, I suspect.

Sammy Did you follow him?

Deputy Troy Sammy. So you’re tellin me that you’d follow a 6-foot-tall and glowing perp into the woods??

Sammy [muttered] Point taken.

Ben So any other sightings?

Deputy Troy Well, not as of yet. But there were so many people they could’a had a revival in that parkin’ lot. So I’m guessin’ that’s how word spread so quickly. And without internet, too? That’s pretty damn impressive.

Sammy Is there an APB out or anything?

Deputy Troy For what, dilly-dallying around with a jumbo jack? He wasn’t doin nothin bad. Just acting a fool— Lord forgive me— where he shouldn’t’a been.

Ben And glowing.

Deputy Troy That’s right.

Sammy Well, please let us know if get any more info on this, Troy. We’d appreciate it.

Deputy Troy You bet. I’ll be sure to keep you boys and the listenin’ public informed. But if you should happen to stumble upon Jesus? Do not approach, bother or pester. You just call up Ol’ Deputy Troy.

[hangs up]

Ben …or your local church. [dial tone]

Sammy Deputy Troy, ladies and gents. Now we’re just going to take a quick break and hear from one of our new sponsors: Carl’s Candy!

Ben Yeah I don- I don’t think we should play this

Sammy What? Ads pay the bills remember?

Ben Folks, as a workaround with all the tech issues, uh, I went out and recorded a few spots of some of our sponsors- uh, new and old. Emphasis on Old, after this one.

Sammy Okay, so the audio is bad.

Ben *sucks in breath* You could say that.

Sammy This company’s paid up! They’re scheduled in one of your many notebooks. Let’s do this. We’ll be right back folks.

[slow, creepy xylophone music]

Carl [voice is soft and creepy, like you expect from a guy who offers kids candy from the back of a van] Do you know why they call it a blow pop? I sure do. And if you come on down to Creepy Carl’s Candy, I’ll fill ya up! I mean in. [whispering] It’ll be our little secret.- A sweet tooth is a terrible thing to waste. Come find a new sugar daddy to butter your fingers at Creepy Carl’s! Come in and grab a sack of Carl’s Boston baked beans while you’re at it. Oops, one fell in my pocket. Free if you can find it! *Ben groaning “oh no”* Every child’s welcome at Creepy Carl’s, big mouths, small mouths, white mouths and brown mouths. We’re equal opportunity! And just cause they shut down the ol’ brick and mortar doe’n’t mean you can’t buy it from my van. Be sure to ask your parents’ permission first, kids. Creepy Carl’s Candy, where the suckers don’t suck themselves. [Police sirens]

Deputy Troy [through megaphone] Carl, turn off your ignition. You are too close to the school zone.

Carl I gotta go! Catch ya later [tires squealing]

Ben [desperate, in bg] The mic!

[sirens fade out]

Sammy … Never again.

Ben I tried to tell you.

Sammy I know. Let’s never speak about this.

Ben [whispering] I need a shower.

Sammy *sigh* …Moving forward, we were just talking about a sighting that happened a few hours ago around the 9 o’clock hour, just off Main Street. It seems quite a few people believe that we may be experiencing a religious phenomenon. Perhaps the second coming of–

Ben [slightly gruff impression] “Don’t call it a comeback, I’ve been here for years!”[4]

Sammy *chuckles* Right, let’s go to the phone lines.

Ben [happily] That was good though right?

Sammy It was good. Good evening, you’re live on King Falls AM.

Reverend Hawthorne Ask and ye shall receive! King Falls-uh. It is the gooD Reverend Xavier “Right. With. Gaawwd-uh” Hawthorne.

Ben Reverend Hawthorne? Are you back in town?

Reverend Hawthorne [speaking over Ben] The One and Only, and we are turnin’ the wagons arounD as we speaK-uh. And we’re headin’ back to my flocK-uh. How’re y’all feelin’ tonighT, King Falls- I said How are you, Feelin’!

Sammy [softly] We’re feeling alright.

Reverend Hawthorne Praise GoD-uh! Hallelujah! Now a little birdie, uh-just chirp’n on my shoulder, told me there was a SighTing. A Vision. Dare I say it, eyeballs were laid on our Lord and Saviour at a burger joint in our fair city.

Sammy Yeah, about 9 o’clock here.

Reverend Hawthorne Could it Be-uh! that our 5-week-revival worked. Could it Be-uh! that our prayers have been brought forth the lamb of God-uh. Can I get an amen!

Ben Reverend Hawthorne we—

Reverend Hawthorne Amen! This miracle-uh, this sight from our God-uh, perched on a Mountain of Sanctity, says that he is ready to lead-uh, his most Highly Favored, Congregation bacK to the promised land. Gimme some organ, Deacon Reggie [organ music begins playing in bg]

Sammy [aside] Do you think Reggie has to wheel that thing around just in case?

Ben This is getting good.

Reverend Hawthorne Play it dirty, brother. We are going Home-uh. Take us back to Calvary, take us BACK-uh! … Samuel, Benjamin may I ask you gentlemen if you have a relationship-uh with the Author of the E-ternal Sal-vation; [organ goes silent] [softly] are ya saved?

Sammy I’m—

Reverend Hawthorne Then let me tell y’all, [organ starts again] because if you aren’t-uh, I’m coming back to town. One weekend only, the Xavier “Right with GoD-uh” Hawthorne Experience will be wheelin’ bacK into King Falls Fairgrounds this very night-uh. We are hoping to get One- On- One with the Risen Christ and start preparin’ for Kingdom Come. But just like old Xavier, you gotta come on down-uh so we can get you TurnT uP With GoD-uh. [click, dial tone]

Sammy Xavier? Hello?

Ben He’s, gone. Sammy.

Sammy Well, you heard it here first folks. Xavier Hawthorn’s Travelling Roadshow is coming back to town. Will Jack in the Box Jesus make his stage debut?

Ben [muttering] Tch- Jesus.

Sammy Literally.

Ben Do you think we could get an interview? Would it be Mr. Christ? Or-

Sammy Something tells me that there is something more to the story than what we’ve heard so far, Ben.

Ben Tsk. I get that, but this is King Falls, Sammy.

Sammy What a perfect place to make a return: a rinky-dink town with no internet.

Ben Line- [muttered] dammit, there’s only one line. Uh, you’re on with Sammy and Ben.

Archie Good evenin’ fellas!

[small dogs barking in bg]

Sammy Is thi-

Archie It’s Archie Simmons!

Ben He-ey Archie, how’s Princess Von Barktooth?

Archie Well, I do have news concernin’ the princess, and I just want to possibly recant some info from our previous call a few weeks back.

Sammy About the werewolves?

Archie Correct.

Sammy Wow. I mean, you sounded pretty convinced that you saw a werewolf.

Archie And now I’m saying that maybe I was misinformed.

Sammy I think you should probably tell Troy and the Sheriff’s Office, Archie.

Archie *giggles* You silly Sally, Troy’s on his way over now

Ben Why the change of heart, Archie?

Archie Well, new information has come to light boys, I mean with the Divine One making his triumphant, and let’s be honest, dramatic return to King Falls.

Sammy You’re talking about the glowing man at the Jack in the Box?

Archie [softly] Let’s be real here, it’s the J-Man, of course a heavenly carpenter would pick King Falls. So many projects to keep busy with.

Sammy [dryly] Uh-huh.

Archie Plus, with the princess and this new information, we have to believe this.

Ben You keep saying that, what’s going on with the princess Archie?

Archie She’s in a delicate condition.

Sammy Oh, of course. I mean she’s been through a lot.

Archie *giggles* No Sammy, I mean she’s with child. Ch-children. Puppies? There’s a bun in my $2400 oven boys!

Sammy Wait. She’s pregnant? From the werewolf attack?!

Archie [softly again] Well, that’s the thing. While I believed in my heart of hearts that the hillbilly beast from the trailer park had gotten to the princess, I think…

Ben What. What do you think Archie?

Archie I mean it was dark, I know it was a full moon but I was scared and recently awakened, sleep in my eyes etc. and so on.

Sammy You don’t think it was the werewolves.

Archie I’m thinking with this new evidence and the fact that I saw a long-haired, bearded man in a Biblical Act— Yeah I-I- I think- there’s a chance it could have been [whispering] the man upstairs.

Ben [stern] Upstairs from whom?

Archie Mankind! Come on Ben, get with the picture!

Sammy He’s saying that because there’s been a holy sighting tonight- which we should all be a little bit doubtful of- then maybe it wasn’t the werewolves, but the Alpha and the Omega.

Ben No! NO WA- That’s too much, Archie. You saw the werewolf. He looked you in the eye and howled at the moon.

Archie I don’t know what kind of weird things Jesus is into.

Ben No way. This is ludicrous.

Archie You just wait and see Ben! The princess may have lost her Westminster dreams, but it was all part of God’s plan.

Ben We’ve got to go Archie *laughs* you’re crossing a line that we cannot cross at King Falls AM.

Archie Judge Not, lest ye be judged boys. Kardashians[sic] 3:16 or a Psalm or something. I think Troy’s coming around the bend anyways boys, laters!

[click, dial tone]

Sammy You know? When I walk in the door every night I say to myself, “Nothing’s gonna surprise me tonight” And more times than not, I am just Dead Wrong.

Ben Let’s give the phone a rest for a moment, Sammy, the record player is just begging to be used.

Sammy *chuckles* Not a bad idea Ben.

[phone pings]

Ben What? *gasps* My phone! [several pings] OHH it’s back baby!

Sammy Me too! What’s going on?

[pinging continues]

Ben What’s up! Oh my God, I could literally kiss the apparition of Steve Jobs.

Sammy Hey, I’ve got a text here, Unknown Number.

Ben Okay, what does it say?

Sammy “I- I know why this happened. I know how to stop it. We need to talk“

Ben What?

Sammy No, that’s what the text said.

Ben You don’t think this has anything to do with… Thank You, Jesus.

[KFAM outro]

[CREDITS]

References:

[1] Pogs - Pogs, generically called milk caps, is a game that was popular among children during the early-mid 1990s. The name pog originates from POG, a brand of juice made from passionfruit, orange, and guava; the use of POG bottle caps to play the game preceded the game's commercialization.

[2] “It’s tearin’ up my heart when I’m with you” - Lyrics to the song “Tearin’ Up My Heart” by NSYNC, an American boy band from the mid-90s

[3] Jack in the Box - American fast food chain, primarily along the west coast and southern states.

[4] “Don’t call it a comeback, I’ve been here for years” - lyrics to the song “Mama Said Don’t Knock You Out” by LL COOL J (also came out in the 90s)

[spacegaywritings]

Warming Paws and melting Walls (4/8) “Little Talks”

General

Summary: Lunch break rolls around. Remy and Emile make a deal.

Tags: food, eating, employer/employee, pining, remy, emile, kitty Virgil, quick mention of bereavement, sick days, systematic issues, ew world, fish, feeding the beast, mutual crushes, genderqueer characters, migraines, headaches, pain mention, exhaustion.

My KoFi  - Support me ♥ or Commission me

ao3: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 // all.

tumblr:  1 / 2 / 3 / 4 (you are here!) / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8.

 Story under the cut - Word count: almost 3k

Remy sighed and pushed his keyboard away, effectively managing to continue to press until the keyboard was unable to go any further since it hit the screen’s humble frame. Eventually, he just worked to drive himself away from the big desk he was working at. The swivel chair let him roll all over the floor, the tiled ground smooth and willing to let him pass without obstacle. Virgil commented his shenanigans with a little movement of their ear. It was just a quick flinch. Remy was not sure but he suspected it meant he was listening or registering noise at least.

 It was cute.

But.

This bastard cat was sleeping.

 The man sighed again.

 “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me, Queen, I swear-”

 Well, no matter how threatening the fancy man tried to be, it did not reach the napping cat. The little void was all comfortable in his lap. There was not a single motion at his dramatic actions, not even a simple reaction. There was nothing but a bundle of black, so black that they camouflaged themself into the blackness of Remy’s pants. All that distinguished one from another was the slow movement of rising and falling.

 Virgil was breathing alright. That was good.

Could cats have breathing problems? The vet said the cat was okay. Still, he made a mental note to look out for any signs.  

Knowing they were okay for now - with a pass by the vet - Remy felt like he could breathe much better himself. He had not noticed it but he released a soft sigh of relief. His eyes lowered to just watch the little blob of colourless something rest on his thighs.

 “I have lunch time, V, would you kindly get up and be awake and do cat things? You were awake all morning with me!”

 Despite his complaints, Remy’s words were barely audible. The receptionist was more or less hissing to himself and it sounded like a small snake cursing the world somewhere from the little hidden corner on the other side of the room.

Far, far away.

His threats were as empty as his condescension. Nothing but attitude.

 The kitten remained still and as much dopamine as there was being released within Remy, he could not help but wish to move...then again, the kitty cat was absolutely warm and the little weight on him was somewhat comforting in a refreshing manner.

 He had already finished most of his work despite having been late this morning and even needing to deal with a certain storm of emails and phone calls. Not to forget the actual real life human people that encountered him face to face.

Ugh - the worst kind of people.

 Oh fuck, he wanted more coffee. He wanted all the coffee he could ask for and then just nap for a few minutes and then get work done and go home and read some dumb romance novel.

Don’t judge.

He needed to get his prince charming from somewhere. It was not like Remy was dating anyone particularly... existing in the first place. And he just really craved some fucking love shit every now and then. You know, the soft trash with people holding hands and giving each other pet names and one bringing flowers for the others and that one thinking of a certain habit the one has so they are considering it in their regular activities.

 Remy’s facial expression faded from soft into something akin to receiving news of a bad weather day when you planned on doing any outdoor-activities with friends.

 It just ... it was missing.

 “Ah! You are done?”

 Remy flinched, his little dream world immediately breaking down as the voice cut through the silence of his new office. His fantasy bubble blobbed violently on impact of Emile’s intrusive words hitting him. He looked up. A person was standing there, apologising and knocking. Knocking after already standing in the doorway and having addressed him.

 It was not a knight in shining armour to save a bored damsel in distress nor was it prince charming, ready to sweep the sleepy man off his feet. 

It was just his boss, Emile.

 ...But it was his boss, Emile.

 Remy smiled and let himself fall back into his chair. He had not noticed how he had sat up with the sudden noise interrupting his thoughts. And his arms were slung around a sleepy yet awake little Virgil. As always, his grip was rather loose around the kitten. In a case of need, he would be tehre to hold and hug them, though.

 “Aw, I am sorry. I should have knocked before. Did I wake them up?”

 Remy blinked and nodded. Virgil was not awake but he nodded anyway, just doing it for literally no reason. Emile saw the sleeping kitten but did not comment.They squinted for a moment, worry shading their features.

 Was that just him or did it smell of food already?

Oh fuck, he had forgotten about the food. Bitch, this cat would literally make him forget and miss about everything and all. First his post-work nap, then his rave, his whole weekend, now his work and lunch break were affected, too.

 “You got food? Come in, come in.”

 This little void was easily eating away his whole life without any hesitation. He readily let him.. In his defence, they looked so cute when yawning. The charcoal demon was stretched out on Remy’s lap and pushed their tail against his chest, turning to Emile and meowing at the boss.

 Did they seriously greet them? Literally, Remy could not- this cat!

 Or maybe they meowed at the smell, it did kind of smell nice after all and the kitten had slept through his entire time here after he had gotten to work. Not even Virgil liked mornings or staying up. At least they could get back to napping, Remy jealously noticed.

 “Virgil just woke up, what a coincidence”, Remy spoke, words jokingly snippy as he carefully picked up the kitten and stroked through their fur.

“Good morning little sleepy head.”

 The kitten replied with a big orchestra of purrs and an eager bonk as they crashed their head against Remy’s. Little ferocious kitten attacking him.

 “Emile, I promise they want to kill me!”

 They laughed and held up a bag of food, slowly swinging it from one side to another.

 “Maybe we can bribe them with some lunch? It’s on me, meet you in the lunch room.”

 Remy carefully squeezed the kitten as his higher-up turned around to show their graceful behind, clothed in layers of pastels and beige. They looked the softest in the most boring yet also least boring way. It was weirdly hot, in a kinda cute and endearing way. Also, pastel colours just looked soft and somehow, they made it look professional but in a trustworthy and warm kind of way.

 It made Remy feel fuzzy and he hated loving it so much. Damn them for being so wickedly attractive.

 He swallowed his secret pining away and decided to get his kitten ready to follow Emile and get some food. Once he had his phone pocketed and his grip on Virgil secured, he was ready to walk after them. When they were close enough, he snuck over to the other side to handle whatever the heck Em wanted to talk about.

 Knowing them, it was probably something nice and soft or extra work that would get paid for super well because Emile was about the most considerate employer he had ever met. Also, because Remy was working as an untrained accountant while receiving full pay for handling literally all this business. Emile only made the official calls. Remy did not mind it because he knew, they somewhat advocated for this stance that employees were actual human beings. This meant they had needs and therefore were to be valued and appreciated and given space and freedom, so they could be creative and work effectively with as little restrictions as possible.

 Hence, Remy was allowed to hang up whatever kind of pictures and decorate his office in any kind of way. Well, nudity and such was not allowed, considering sometimes minors would enter the clinic as well, but other than that, Remy had challenged the therapist a lot.

They never let him down.

 Also, they handled his amount of sick days without issues and allowed him to hand in more sick days than he legally had to accept. They easily brushed it off as half-work day or employer-covered vacation. You know, like the stuff you got when sick days counted but in that case, you did not have any and still got pay and zero threats. Or like, bereavement leave and all.

 Emile and Remy got together and the former put out the meals and slid them into their respective places as Remy got some plates and cutlery. The lunch room was a small kitchen. It had the most essential things. Virgil was standing on Remy’s seat and lurked around. Their tail was showing despite the table stealing the view on them. Emile could see them and they saw the tail slowly swishing from one side to the other.

 Hovering, waiting. Patiently. Like a predator.

 Remy returned and put the plates down.

 “Kitty, what the fuck are you doing”

 Virgil meowed, eyes wide. Their tail stood upright with a little curl forming itself into its tip. This little void was living the life of luxury and decadence to just eat and be carried, then sleep and get woken up only to get some more food.

Remy was thriving on this attitude. What a luxury hoe. Such a Queen.

 “Remy, I think your cat will eat with us”

 His boss chuckled quietly and seated themself while Remy just sighed, rolling his eyes. By now, his head was hurting already. Not much but it was starting to hurt - moving hurt. It felt heavy and made him sleepy and exhausted.

Concentration was.. slightly off. Especially his sustained attention.

 He carefully picked up his void and put them into his lap.

 “Meow!”

 “Yes, Virgil, yes. You will eat with us, just calm down.”

 The kitten wiggled in his lap and put their paws on the edge of the table, looking at the hot sweating food containers.

 “Virgil, behave. Come on, honey”, Remy warned.

 Even his voice seemed heavy and tired. He missed his nap. In spite of this, he was being an attentive “temporary pet-keeper”. His hand moved to gently nudge the paws away from the table. Then, he picked them up to let the kitten dance dance dance a bit.

 “I am a good kitty and I will wait”, Remy mimicked softly and moved the paws from one side to the other as Virgil patiently stood on their hind paws and stared at the world in confusion.

 Emile giggled at the display while Virgil did not know what the heck was going on. Did their temporary owner go insane? They pulled out another chair on which they prepared a smaller bowl with a bit of fish in it. No seasoning or spice or anything. They had gotten it from a nearby store they had visited on the way to pick up the food order. After all, they had not been sure about whether or not Remy actually had brought some food for the kitten but apparently, this arrangement worked and Virgil’s interest was sparked.

 They watched the bowl move from Emile’s hands over to the seat and once the bowl was settled, the kitten launched themself over to the chair and ducked their tiny raven head into the big bowl. Their whole head disappeared in it and only these dark ears peeked out from within.

Silent chewing noise could be heard.

 “Remy! Remy! They eat the food I brought! Look at this kitten!”

 The receptionist couldn’t deny himself the joy of a small smile as he looked over at the small bundle of darkness hunched over the food bowl and purring in delight. In addition to this, Emile was giggling, beaming in delight and genuinely touched.

Remy looked up at them. For a moment, their eyes locked but they both looked away, averting their gazes to look at Virgil instead.

 It was rather silent for a moment, safe for the rhythmic vibrations coming from Virgil. Apparently they enjoyed their food.

 “Hey, hey - careful now!”, he warned with a grin on his face.

 He nudged his sunglasses off his head and let them slip down and onto his nose to cover his half-lidded eyes. They gleamed at Emile for a moment.

 “If you keep that up, maybe you will be their new favourite human.”

 Emile held their chest for a moment and settled opposite of Remy. Their cheeks seemed slightly reddened but they concealed it by tending to the food. They put some of the steamed vegetables onto their plate and added some fried rice. To top it all of, he had a bit of natural yoghurt from the fridge.

 They returned the playful shine in Remy’s eyes by smirking at him.

 “You say that as if this was a bad thing, Remy “

 Remy snorted.

 “You say this as if you were planning to take this poor little cat away from my horrid claws, Emile.”

 Remy had finally arranged his food on his plate, steam curling upwards from his curry and rice. Even the food containers were still sweating and smoking in heat. They looked as if these containers acted like some sort of sauna. He fed himself a first spoonful of fried rice - the tiny brown one that looked like some holy glazed rice and so small it barely qualified as anything at all - and leaned into his seat.

 Oh, this was just delightful.

Savoury flavour bloomed in his mouth, exploding in contrasts to the soft and squishy rice with the slightly harder vegetables. The different tastes stimulated his tongue just right.

If someone said foodgasms were a lie, they were missing out on this delight. It was the most subjective of all paradises.

  “The thing I wanted to talk to you about-”, Emile started, taking a bit of time to drink something in between.

 Talking all day made their throat as dry as a sand dessert.

 “You can keep my office and let your cat come to work with you but I need to ask a little favour of you. I am sure you will want to agree! “

 Remy shifted in his seat. He blinked for a moment but gave a small nod to indicate he was not just listening to probably on board for whatever Emile was planning to have him do. The therapist let their lips curl into a genuine smile.

 “We need to give our new offices a makeover! I bet you would feel more comfortable in a novel set of four walls, huh?”

 The receptionist’s cheeks darkened by a whole shade and his chest jumped for a minuscule moment. Just a little harder. He was sure it was visible and even the kitten raised their head to look at the two, staring into Emile before letting their gaze rest on their temporary owner.

However, they quickly lost interest and returned to chewing on their food.

 “Well, that sounds amazing but I.. Virgil isn’t mine.”

 Emile blinked and the kitten meowed, nudging back the bowl and retreating to Remy’s lap. He willingly picked up the void and brushed through their fur as always. The bowl was licked clean and absolutely blank. Apparently, the cat was more than just a bit into it.

 It was silent once more. Even the cat did not purr despite the soft head scritches they got. Remy pursed their lips, a shadow hitting their face.

Their whole beauty was obstructed.

 “See, their owners still might answer. I put up some signs and made a few posts on forums about missing pets. When I went to nearby shelters and called vets, I gave them a picture of Virgil and left my contact details around. They are not tattooed but they are too tame to be a wild cat.”

 Remy shrugged, voice deflated as he continued. The narrowed their eyes at him. The idea of an unaffected Remy seemed unrealistic. The man was cuddling the cat and wanted to call in sick - while knowing about how scarce his sick days were.

 “What if someone moved and accidentally left Virgil abandoned? Or they ran away during the chaos of moving?”

He sighed.

“You know, if nobody responds within a week, I think I will take you up on it. Until then I will just steal your office, honey.”

 His low voice swung up at the end of his sentence and he even let a small smile grow on his lips. Anyway, it was time to pay attention to his food. It was so much better than to look at Emile’s doubtful face.

 “You know what”, Emile countered, “I have the feeling Virgil will stay with you. Nobody responded in days and they are attached to you. It would be cruel to separate you know.”

 They helped themself to a bit more vegetables.

 “Just you wait, Remy.”

 The receptionist smirked back at them.

 “Whatever, honey~”

[miriyos]

a long rant.

so even prior to covid i really started to hate my job and i was really struggling mentally with it. i’m / was an rbt (behavioral therapist) who worked with autistic kids during early intervention. most of our clients were in the 2-5 yr/old range. around month 5 or so working there, my cousin passed away suddenly and that made the job even harder because little things, all of a sudden, could just remind me of her and set me off into a crying fit without meaning to. and like most things, the more you don’t wanna think about a thing and the harder you try not to think about the thing, the more you think about the thing.

anyway, now i'm trying to imagine what's next after covid, and i really can't go back. and the thing about that is that i understand not going back to work is not the best option to choose. but i also was starting to get increased anxiety and was starting to feel depressed again - because i hated myself for how much i hated a job that actually did treat me well, pay me well, and give me good benefits. i felt terrible knowing that i found a good place to be and wanted to walk away from it - since, overall, i did really like it there but the type of work that i had to do as an rbt just isn't something i have the overall passion for. 

and so obviously my intent, a couple months ago was to find another job and then give my two weeks. that way i would go from one job to the other directly without having to really worry about a lapse in medical insurance and payment. and i got a few emails back or calls back that i was being considered, but then all hiring processes for the places that i was looking for suspended hiring because of covid.

and it kills me knowing that my mom would much prefer that i go back - and really, i understand and i wish i could go back too, but i just don't think i can last another 6-8 uncertain months, depending on the job market. it really drained me having to work with kids who i have to worry about hitting, kicking, spitting, biting, and cleaning up pee. which - i loved the kids. really. but i didn't love those sides about the job which are inevitable when you work with autistic kids on the early intervention phase. 

and so i'm trying to tell her this - and it makes me cry because that's how conflicted i am about knowing i don't want to go back this badly, and how much this job - even the thought of it - stresses me out, and she tells me to stop being emotional. and yeah there are probably some things that i could have talked to them at work about to see if improvements could have been made, but those things are just part of the job. and some of the things that drive me crazy and make me anxious aren't necessarily their fault. and i know that to an extent my anxiety is irrational, but not all anxiety comes from a rational place.

my job can't predict when parents won't call out or call out their kids 5 minutes before their appointment. and they can't totally be for blame for their disorganization when they need a bigger office and they don't have the staff. they worked on getting a secretary but of course that was right before covid. and i just really hate and it makes me even more upset that some of the things she says - even if it isn't intended - are phrased like i don't understand. like i just plan on hopping job to job every six months whenever something i don't like happens. and the worst model is that i did quit my first job.

it was bare minimum wage, and i was supposed to be part time, but we were so short handed at some point that i was working 40+ hours - that weren't even scheduled. i'd be on the clock, they'd see they were short handed, and have me stay later. then i was being asked to come in earlier and earlier. and it was a mess. i wasn't getting my mandated break until a half hour before i had to leave to go home sometimes because the morning shift manager wouldn't tell the afternoon shift manager that i wasn't breaked yet. 

it was absolutely terrible, and i felt really torn up about leaving that job too. because i don't like to quit, i wasn't raised with the mentality or privilege to just quit, and i understand the consequences of my actions. but i did quit, because that was really running me ragged too - but for different reasons. 

and when she brings that up in an argument as if i don't get it - as if i don't remember it drives  me crazy. especially in the context that a professional job and my first job while in college are equal.

plus her mentioning that it seemed like i wasn't taking looking for a job seriously after i got home from college. i tried my best. there's only so many places you can apply to that are professional within the field i wanted, and even then, if i was denied the first time - most places have a three month period before you can apply there again. 

so no. i wasn't just slacking. maybe i could've driven myself all around and dropped off my resume, but people give a lot of conflicting advice on whether that's actually a good idea. people tend to air on the side of "it interrupts their day, so probably don't." so a lot of the time i didn't. but i tried to follow up with them electronically, at least.

so she can apologize all she wants, but i just hate that i don't think she gets that even if i can say easily that i want to quit - it isn't the same as me accepting easily that this is what i'm going to do, or what i want to do. there's still a part of me that dreadfully is willing to go back because i know that that will erase this entire conversation 

and this wasn't a recent decision either. i've been thinking about leaving my job since prior to covid. since maybe early march, when things weren't so bad. we heard that some people were going crazy over hoarding toilet paper, and back then it was kinda comical because it was hard to understand how people thought 2 weeks in self-quarantine could warrant that much tp. 

and maybe even prior to march i wanted to leave, but i was still going in with the mentality of sticking it out for an entire year - or as close as i could get to it before my certification had to be renewed. because i definitely went into it knowing that it would be a difficult job, and i knew there were certain parts that mentally and physically exhausted me, but i liked the people there and overall, i liked the kids - but it got to a certain point where mentally, the rewards i got from it weren't enough to refresh the parts of me that were tired. 

and if i did wanna leave prior to march, i definitely didn't say anything about it. because i didn't want my parents to know that i was contemplating leaving an otherwise good company. i didn't want to hear arguments or hear that they were disappointed or hear that they wanted me to stay - because obviously those were things i was feeling about myself, and i didn't need an extra voice to tell me to stick it out when that was what a strong part of me already intended on doing.

but it gets to the point where mentally i see myself getting in an exhausted place again. where i pass out as soon as i get home at 6pm and i hate the thought of even going in. and then it becomes a very cyclical dark place that's hard to escape. 

i hate my job, but i need my job, so i go in. something bad happens, makes me hate my job even more. i think about how much i need my job, and i hate myself for wanting to leave it, then i go home. i wake up in the morning, need to go to work. but i hate work. i go to work, feel numb for being there. maybe something good happens, but then something bad happens. i get through work, go home, feel tired. pass out, maybe. tell myself i still need my job, it's not that bad. the company is nice, the people are nice. i can make it another six months. go to bed, get up for work again, rinse and repeat. 

i can't do that for another six months. and i don't get how people can continue working at a place that clearly makes them miserable for a paycheck. i wanted to find another job but where i want to work for experience are places that are currently closed. 

if i wanted an easily acquirable job - i could've found one, but i didn't want another bare minimum, minimum wage food service job. and my parents didn't want me working at one of those jobs either - so i looked for something professional and it took me six months. that didn't make me happy either. made me feel depressed. made me think about how stupid i was for not taking the gre earlier and going into grad school despite not knowing what i wanted to go into grad school for - but at least it would've been something, and i wouldn't have been sitting around at home for so long thinking that i just wasted 4 years of my time not knowing what i wanted to do immediately after getting out.

am i actually mad? no. 

but i do wish that to a greater extent it would feel like her saying that she supported my decision felt more genuine. because i've never been raised with the mentality of just quitting whenever - and i've never been told that i can just do what i want, to hell with consequences or responsibility. 

and it's one thing to say that she never intended for me to worry about certain financial things - but by saying it repeatedly, i am going to worry about it at some point. and frankly, one reason why i thought i was going to try to stick it out until i found another job to replace my current one was for medical insurance reasons. because even though bill-wise she would never have me really pay for anything, i still know that that's one less bill she would have to worry about, and me having my own insurance helped a lot even if it was one thing. 

but i was getting to the point of being more anxious and more depressed while employed than when i was when i was sitting at home for six months hoping someone would call me back. because having a job was ultimately making me hate myself so much more than i ever did hate myself - because i had it really good and i wanted to walk away from it

[tvntae]

heartbreak hotel 2

pairing: reader x ceo!jeon jungkook

plot: was sleeping with your boss really such a great idea?

genre: smut (eventual), angst, fluff

word count: 2.7k

You wake up the next morning feeling a little more refreshed than usual, you had gotten the job offer of a lifetime, and you happily accepted it. Of course, you’ve never actually been anyone’s secretary before, let alone anyone’s assistant, but you would have been a fool to decline. Picking up a few more hours than what you had agreed to when you started your associate position in the sales department wasn’t really all that bad. Your rate of pay as an associate wasn’t all that bad, to begin with, you couldn’t stop imagining what type of cash would be rolling in now. You squeal out of excitement, salivating at the thought of real, home-cooked food now that you could actually afford to spend extra every month on expenses. Hell, you might even go all out and pay for some cooking classes, God knows how bad you need them. 

Walking into Nochu this morning felt like your first day all over again. That uneasy, stomach-churning feeling. You couldn’t even begin to describe just how much you hated being nervous. You get all sweaty and icky feeling, and it was the absolute worse. You could only hope and pray no one would be able to see how wet your pits were because that would be extremely embarrassing.

Jungkook had emailed you exactly where to go and what office you’d now reside in. You were gonna be on your own now, no Choi Jiwoo, no loud mouth Karen. Just the sound of your 10 fingers typing away at your keyboard and the ringing of your phone every once in a while. Paradise. Along with Jungkook’s email came a list of small instructions for you to complete before going to the top floor where your new office was located. 

The first task on the list was to collect any belongings you may have left back in your old department, i.e., pencils, pens, notebooks, etc. You didn't really have a lot, to begin with, but there were some personal items there that you would have hated to leave behind. Especially that cute Starbucks tumbler your mom had shipped to you a few weeks back.  

Thinking about it now, you have never actually been to work this damn early in the morning, your regular shift hours were 10 am but soon that you work directly for Jungkook he has you coming in at 6 am. For what precisely? You weren’t sure. You did hear around town, the town being the office, that Jungkook was an early bird. He’d work from about 6 am to 6 pm. He was a strong man, a strong man indeed. 

Your old office was pretty dead at around this time. The only person who should supposedly be here at this time is Ms.Choi and speaking of which, she was the second task on your list for today. Jungkook wants you to pick up some papers that were alleged to be dropped off to his office weeks ago but knowing the ever unpredictable Jiwoo, she felt as though she always had more important things to do than to complete a task handed down by the big boss. Even if Jungkook’s task seem quite unimportant, you still wouldn’t want to be the type to be on his wrong side. Jiwoo, on the other hand, could give a shit less. 

You knock on Choi’s office door, once and then twice, but no answer. You reach your hand out to grab her doorknob but before you could touch it, you hear her obnoxiously slow paced loud heeled walk. You scoff, holding back an eye roll and turn to come face-to-face with your old department manager. Choi looks you up and down, you can tell in that tiny brain of hers that she’s trying to figure out why you’re here. She looks at you almost as if you're a nuisance. She’s irritated by your presence. You’re just as irritated as well but not because of her crooked eyeliner or the lipstick on her teeth, okay maybe that’s got a little to do with it, but it’s the intensely strong perfume she decided to douse herself with today. God, she smelled like a mix between a nursing home and a high school cafeteria. You repress a laugh, sweet one Y/n. 

“What brings you to my humble abode, Y/n?” There goes that creepy fucking smile again. If only the Gods above gave you the willpower to smack it right off her old face, you would.

“Mr.Jeon needed me to come by to pick up some papers. I’m not sure which ones but he said you should know.”

“Oh, those papers, they still aren’t ready. Is Jungkook gonna keep hounding my ass on a few lousy papers that have absolutely no purpose to Jungkook nor myself?” Jiwoo grumbled. “He isn’t gonna have you coming down here every single day to remind me about those dumb papers, is he? Because if that’s the cause what use are you?”

“Okay, first of all rude, and secondly I have nothing to do with whatever kind of beef you and Mr.Jeon have I’m just the messenger, appreciate the fact that he sent me and didn’t come down here himself to demand them. I just started this new position. Keep that in mind Ms.Choi, I’ll be letting him know that you in fact still do not have his papers, but for your sake, I'll be sure to leave out the part where you were giving me lip. Have a wonderful day Jiwoo.” Honestly, the nerve of that old bitch. She must believe her job is treating others like shit. How was she even still employed here?

“Move,” she hissed. Bumping your shoulder purposely while she passes you to get to her office door.

“Gladly!” You make sure to give her the brightest smile possible as she does so. You hear her slam her door, and you can’t help, but that think task #2 is and was a success.

Task 3 was relatively simple, all you had to do was report back to Jungkook, and from there he would get you situated and layout ‘ground rules’, as he put it in the email. You were hoping he wasn’t actually some tyrannical boss behind closed doors because, to be honest, him saying he wants to go over some rules with you kinda threw you off. 

The hallway to Jungkook’s office seemed impossibly long. It felt like something straight out of a movie, it was shocking. It was never-ending, until, you know... it ended. For some odd reason, you thought Jungkook would have like bodyguards up here or something. I mean yeah, it wasn’t like he was a mafia boss, but he was an extremely important businessman. Isn’t that like a protocol for them? To keep personal assistance with them at all time? 

You knock on the door as instructed by Jungkook’s email. You hear a faint ‘come in’ and open the door to the biggest office you think you’ve ever seen. The windows behind Jungkook’s desk is what catches your eye the first glance around. He has the most gorgeous serene scenery to the city of Seoul you could ever imagine. His office was the size of your living area and kitchen combined. You oohed and ahhed at the mysterious paintings hanging on the walls. His office was so homey and inviting you almost didn’t believe it was real. It smelled like the sweetest of fruits and candies, and it brought a smile to your face. 

Jeon Jungkook is entirely living the life of a wealthy CEO. If the fact that your employment rested in his hands weren’t enough to tell you well his luxury office would. 

Jungkook smile is what greets you. He gestures to the chair sitting across from his desk and asks you to take a seat. You do as your told. The chair is large and somewhat uncomfortable, you slowly sink into place and can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed by it. You hoped he didn’t notice, because oh-boy if he did he’d probably think you were some type of slacker and send you right back to Choi, the bitch you just told off 10 minutes ago. You can bet your life she wouldn’t hesitate to make your life a living hell.

“I uh have a few things I need to go over with you before I get you started,” Jungkook starts, “It mostly just work ethic stuff and what not, ya know, the whole nine.” Jungkook laughs. You nod your head in understanding, and he begins. He explains to you how punctuality is critical, that he’s swamped lately and he barely has enough time to get dressed in the mornings. You were taken aback on how comfortable he seemed around you, but it was probably for the best seeing as you’d have to be up close and personal with him from now on. Or at least until he decides if or when he wants to get a new secretary. His ‘ground rules’ were fair. It wasn’t anything impossible or harrowing. He discussed precisely what kind of personal secretary you were. You were on call at all times unless he decided otherwise. On call meaning in which whenever and wherever you were needed you were to be made available. He said that it was highly possible to work around a schedule that would work for the both of you. You had the same amount of vacation days as you did before as an associate, but he did up your paid sick days. You were extremely thankful for that, seeing as you rarely took vacation days and always opted to take sick days. 

Jungkook showed you to your office. It was in a quaint little room right next to Jungkook’s. It wasn’t overly exciting, but it was a huge step up from your cubicle, so you were extremely grateful for it. 

It’s been two months and half a week since starting as Jungkook’s secretary, and you must say that man is undoubtedly a piece of work. You’ve seen his good moods, bad moods and you’re pretty sure you’ve heard him curse more than the average person, but not once have you complained. You liked it up here, and you’re sure Jungkook liked you here as well. You know you shouldn’t, but you kind of started liking him more than an assistant should like their boss. He was always so helpful to you, he took you home at night, even when you had transportation fair, he’d refuse to let you travel alone. He also had taken you out to eat a few times, as work colleagues of course but still, it was sorta a date. He always paid for your meals and would take you home afterward. Sometimes you’d invite him inside to grab a cup of coffee with you, but he’d always decline. He seemed to mentally brawl with himself about it. Thinking what’s the harm then remembering in just a few months, he’d be a happily married man. It kind of stung at the first few times but you learned your lesson and never asked him again. It was probably inappropriate anyway, and he just didn’t know how to let you down nicely.  

the boss👨‍💼: hey u up? sent at 3.56 am

y/n: yea just waking up is there anything you need? sent at 4.20 am

the boss👨‍💼: mind if i come over? got some things to discuss with you if thats fine. sent at 4.23am

y/n: yes, thats fine ill get dressed and straighten up. see you soon sent at 4.25am

boss👨‍💼: see ya sent at 4.26am

You raced to get dressed and clean your living area as fast as you could. Jungkook didn’t live anywhere near you but what you knew about him was that he was most likely on his way 15 minutes ago, the text he sent was honestly just a heads up. You had about 5 minutes before he would show up at your door. Dashing from room to room you finish in record time and even had some time to make some of Jungkook’s favorite tea. While stirring in the sugar, you realize that this will be Jungkook’s very first time in your home. Your stomach drops, what if he doesn’t like the shithole of an apartment you have? God, what if thinks I live like a pig. You halt all movement when you hear the buzzer to your door. The particular buzzing sound meant Jungkook paged you to talk instead of buzzing for you to let him in your apartment building. You just figured he had accidentally pressed the wrong button, even though it says which is which you brush it off. Your apartment is on the first floor so it takes Jungkook no time to find your front door. He knocks, loudly might you add hell loud enough to wake the dead. The knocks were sloppy like he was scrapping his knuckles across the door with each rap. You were hesitant to open the door, maybe this wasn’t Jungkook and someone pretending to be him?

“Y/n,” Jungkook draws out, “please open the door.” He sounds slightly inebriated and a little agitated. You can’t say so for sure since you could not actually see him nor hear him clearly but something didn’t seem right. 

You slowly open your door, peeking through you see half of Jungkook’s face and he’s as red as a tomato.

“There you are!” He exclaims, pretty much kicking your door open to wrap you in a tight bear hug. He’s got both arms around your waist and he’s hugging the life out of you. You struggle against his hold and eventually hit his shoulder with your balled fist to get him to let up. “Hey,” he giggles, ”that hurt.” He frowns but you can see the playfulness behind his eyes. You can’t help but wonder what the hell is going on with him. Is he actually drunk? And if he is why did he come here of all places? And did he fucking drive? Drunk??

“What are you doing here, Jungkook? It’s nearly 5 am?” You look at the invisible watch on your wrist and Jungkook watches, amused by you. 

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just shrugs his shoulder and plops right on your couch.

“Mind if I stay the night?” He asks nonchalantly as if he’s done it a million and one times before. 

It’s obvious as fuck he shouldn’t be driving but this nutcase shouldn’t be your responsibility at 5 am. “Do you want me to call your fiance? I can get her to pick you up if that’s what you want. I don’t think it’s appropriate that you stay here.” You thought he was coming over for work-related stuff, not to crash at yours like he’s some 21-year-old frat boy that just got his first taste of beer and pussy in the first night. 

He looks at you like you have two heads and scoffs. “Na I’d rather stay here tonight, this couch seems comfy enough.” 

You’ve never seen him act so childishly before. Yeah, he’s a jokester on his good days but a drunkard? That’s not Jungkook.

He bounces up and down on the couch to test its stability. “Got any extra blankets?” He mumbles. You sigh and grab two covers from the hall closet and throw them at him. He smiles one of the brightest smiles you’ve ever seen from him. If it wasn’t for the fact that he’d awoken you from your beauty sleep just so he could host his very own sleepover at your house, you would have returned one. You spin on your heels and to try to make a run for it before he asks for anything else but he yells for you again. “Turn the light off,” he says as he toes off his boots. 

[let-it-raines]

Betting on the Bullseye (Part 12)

Summary: Emma Swan loses a bet that means she has to ask her celebrity crush to be her date to her office’s annual fundraising gala. Killian Jones is that celebrity crush. She expects all kinds of humiliation and for her dignity to be completely lost. What she doesn’t expect is for him to say yes.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Happy Wednesday! Or Galentine’s Day if you so choose to celebrate all of the awesome friends in your life (you should)! Here’s a happy little chapter! I feel like you guys are getting quite a few of those :D

On AO3: Beginning | Current

On Tumblr: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Tag list: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @wellhellotragic​ @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91@branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @galaxyzxstark @lifeinahole27 @andiirivera @ultimiflos @hollyethecurious @thejollyroger-writer

His thighs and calves ache as he moves, soreness hitting him before the runner’s high does. He’s one of those weird people who actually enjoys running, but some mornings he just doesn’t feel like it, his body screaming in protest when he pushes through the pain. This is one of those mornings.

But Emma had wanted to go running, said something about not wanting to get too out of the groove of exercise even while he was in town, so he’d stupidly agreed, even when he tried to coax her back into bed with him this morning instead of getting dressed and venturing outside to run. They’re out here now, though, running along the pavement next to the Charles river while sweat beads at his forehead despite the breeze and cool early morning temperatures. He’s just glad that they’re doing this now instead of in the middle of the afternoon.

Not that they could do this during the afternoon. They’re going to David and Mary Margaret’s house today, something he’s excited about yet absolutely terrified to do. Emma doesn’t have a biological family, but from what he can tell, the Nolans and Ruby are family for her. They’re her support system, so while he may not be meeting the parents, he sure as hell feels like he is.

He hopes it goes better than it did for Ben Stiller.

He’s pretty sure it can’t go worse.

“You are slacking, KJ,” Emma teases, slowing down her run to fall back into step with him. She’s got a bright smile on her face, amusement dancing across her eyes. She might as well not even be running. It’s ridiculous. At least she’s sweating. If she wasn’t sweating he would swear that he’s dating some kind of mythical being.

“I was not the one who wanted to go running this morning,” he huffs, taking in a breath to try to regulate his breathing, “and I’m pretty sure we’ve on mile five.”

“Six.”

“Well damn, we might as well go inside now.”

“No,” Emma groans, scrunching her face up in a way that he’s really come to love, “We can do two more, and then we’ll go get breakfast, okay?”

“You’re killing me, Swan.”

She winks before she sprints forward, and he’s not sure if he’s loving this view of her arse in her leggings or hating it because he’s got to catch up with her and keep up with her for the next two miles. Today just isn’t his day for running, but he’s not going to let Emma think that she’s this much faster than him.

He might kill himself in the process, but he’s not going to let her have bragging rights of the unspoken race that they’re competing in.

When they finally finish, Emma collapses down onto a bench, her chest heaving up and down while she catches her breath, and she immediately takes down her ponytail only to pull it back up again and wipe away the sweat into her hair. Her cheeks are red, her face a little pale, and if she looks like that much of a mess when she looked fine three (“it was supposed to be two, Swan”) miles ago, he can’t begin to imagine what he looks like. Not that he really cares. He honestly just wants to be able to breathe again.

“I hate you,” he groans as his joints scream at him while he settles down on the bench next to her. The river is right in front of him, trees shading them, and if he didn’t feel like he was dying, he’d probably love this view. He misses the view of the ocean from his bedroom, but he’s gladly traded it to get to feel like he’s dying while running with Emma.

A fair trade.

“I know,” she soothes, reaching over and patting his inner thigh, keeping her hand there, “but you’ll recover from this. Don’t you run on the beach? How is this worse?”

“I had two glasses of rum last night...which I’m pretty sure was actually early this morning.”

“Wow, lightweight.”

She pinches his bare thigh, his shorts have ridden up when he sat down, and he slaps away her hand only to lean down and lightly bite her earlobe like the mature adult he is. He likes the little noise she makes when he does that. It’s like a yelp and a squeal, and he wants to hear it all of the time. “I had two glasses of rum and some very heavy food followed by a lack of sleep because we got caught up watching reruns of The Office.”

“This is a good point.” Emma leans over and rests her head on his shoulder, stretching out her legs and flexing her ankles around, her calves flexing with the movement. “We can go at a later time tomorrow. Or you can sit on your ass while I go to the gym. But I really can’t go another week without exercising.”

“Aye, I know. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean you have to change your routine. You should go to the gym if you want. You don’t have to just run with me.”

“Nah,” she sighs, gently squeezing his thigh again while her stray hairs manage to get caught in his mouth, “this is fine. I kind of like running with you. I think we can just do it a few times next week, and I’ll be all good. I don’t need to go every day. I think my limbs might fall off.”

“What a shame. I do rather like your limbs.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. Your left leg is my favorite.”

Emma chuckles next to him, quickly turning her head to kiss his cheek all while she raises her left leg a little higher in the air, running her hands along it while she teasingly shows it off. He likes when she’s playful like this, loves it really. It’s refreshing for her to be so happy.

It’s refreshing to get to see it in person.  

His phone buzzes several times in his pocket, and he takes it out, untangling the headphones that are wrapped around it so he can read the messages. Robin: Will you be back by the sixth?

Killian: Yep. My flight is that morning.

Robin: Okay, good. They need you to reshoot one more scene for HW. There was apparently a problem with the lighting, and they can’t fix it in editing.

Killian: Just email me the info.

Killian: I can only film late afternoon on the sixth or on the morning of the seventh.

Robin: We have the contract negotiations for Yours Truly on the seventh, so you’ve got to film the night of the sixth.

Killian: Okay. But I already said I was leaning away from that one.

Robin: Yeah, I know, but it’s not a definite no. So we at least have to go in for it. Maybe you’ll change your mind.

Killian: Fine. Just send me the emails. I’ll look at everything tomorrow.

“You okay?” Emma asks, reaching behind his back and rubbing her hand into his spine, hard enough to work out some of the tenseness that’s gathered.

“Yeah, yeah,” he promises, turning his phone screen off and stuffing it in his pocket. “Just work stuff, love. I’ve apparently got to do one more reshoot for Highland Waters. And Rob’s reminding me of a meeting we’ve got.”

She hums next to him before standing, stretching out her legs a little bit more, and grabbing onto his hands, lacing their fingers together and pulling them up to rest against her chest. “It is Saturday. We do not work on Saturdays, okay?”

“I work on Saturdays all of the time.”

“Not today, babe. Not today.”

-/-

“What should I wear?”

“Hmm?”

He turns around to face Emma, who’s stretched out on her bed looking at her phone while her hair dries, the long strands falling over the edge of the mattress and hitting the floor.

“What should I wear to the Nolans?”

“Whatever strikes your fancy.”

He rolls his eyes, dropping the button down he was holding and walking the few steps over to the bed, crawling up onto it and placing his knees on both sides of Emma’s legs and using his elbows to keep him propped up over her so that his face hovers just above her, the scent of her body wash invading him. But Emma hasn’t moved her phone, is still looking at it, so he has to snake his hand up and take it out of her hand, tossing it on the bed so she’ll pay attention.

“Hey, I was doing something.”

“What were you doing, Swan?” he nudges, quickly dipping his head and sliding his lips over hers, nibbling a bit before pulling back. “Because I’m pretty sure you were playing that damn numbers game on your phone when I was talking to you.”

“I was listening,” she protests, running her hands up his chest until she’s got her fingers locked behind his neck, “but I was also about to beat the level I was on. All of your talk about clothes was distracting me.”

“You are such a kind,” he leans down to press a kiss against her cheek, “considerate,” another one against her nose, “loving,” a kiss against her jaw, “woman.”

“Aren’t I?”

“Aye, obviously.”

She rolls her eyes at him, even if he should be the one rolling his eyes at her. “You should wear your jeans, the dark ones, and the dark plaid shirt, one of your t-shirts underneath. It’s casual, and they keep their house cold.” “Thank you.” He quickly pecks her lips before flipping off of her. “That’s all I asked.”

After they’re dressed, Emma taking a hell of a lot less time than him, they load up into Emma’s bug, which he thinks he finds more charming by the day. He has absolutely no idea how the thing is still running, but he’s pretty sure it’s fueled by Emma’s willpower. No, he’s absolutely sure that’s how it’s fueled. But Emma and her trusty bug drive him the twenty minutes to the Nolans’ neighborhood that’s just outside of the city, close enough that the houses are all packed in there but backyards are still a thing. They have a kid and a dog, plus the other little one on the way, so apartment living like Emma is obviously not for them.

From what he’s heard, they’re pretty much the poster family for suburban families.

And his suspicions and ideas are pretty much confirmed when they walk up the front steps and are greeted by every single member of the family, all of them smiling (kind of creepily if he’s honest) at he and Emma as they wait on the small porch after ringing the doorbell.

“You guys have got to work on your casual smiles because wow,” Emma whistles, taking a step closer and picking Leo up before the kid loses his mind talking to her, “you are not at all smooth.”

“Emma, who’s that?”

He’s got a toddler’s finger in his face before he can move out of the way, confusion and a little bit of concern painted over Leo’s features. “That, buddy, is Killian. You want to say hi?”

Leo slants his green eyes, his suspicion really obvious, and Killian has never felt so intimidated by someone under the age of three before in his entire life. Okay, so maybe when Aiden was born he was a little intimidated, or really terrified that he’d do something like drop him. He was so damn small. It was insane. But now he’s terrified that he’s being judged by a toddler.

“Hi, Leo,” he waves, bending his knees so he can be on Leo’s level in Emma’s arms. “I like your shirt.”

Leo shyly waves back before looking down at his shirt, pulling it off of his body. “It’s Superman,” he tells him, his voice small and a bit broken, the words not too clear.

“You know, Leo, Killian knows Superman.”

Oh, thank you, Emma, he thinks. Leo’s eyes immediately light up, his love for Superman obvious even with his young age. His parents must have him watch the cartoon. Usually kids under three don’t know too many superheroes, the movies too mature for them, but there are a few children’s cartoons out there that usually make the Halloween costumes popular.

“Really?”

“Absolutely,” he assures Leo, “he’s very nice. And brave. And I know he would like you.” He reaches down to tug at Leo’s hair, ruffling it the slightest bit before turning to face David and Mary Margaret and sticking his hand out until David takes it. “It’s nice to meet you, David. You too, Mary Margaret. Thanks for having us over today.”

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you,” Mary Margaret squeals, her entire face full with her smile. “I have heard so much about you! And I’ve been absolutely dying to meet you! Obviously, we’re big fans of your work too!”

His cheeks flush, and he briefly wonders if he can go hide out in the car for a minute until he isn’t blushing. “Thank you, lass. I’ve heard so much about you two as well.”

David doesn’t really say much, just smiling and nodding his head, before they’re all ushered inside. Their house is exactly how he thought it would be, warm colors and inviting furniture, toys scattered everywhere even though he’s sure they likely tried to straighten up beforehand. But if he’s learned anything from Liam and Elsa, when you have a child, all bets are off for having a clean house.

When you have an Emma, pretty much all bets are off for having a clean house too.

But he doesn’t mind, following Mary Margaret into the house and into the kitchen where she’s got food scattered across all of her countertops. He asks her what she’s cooking, and it’s apparently some kind of baked potato casserole.

(Maybe it’s a good thing that he and Emma went running this morning.)

He offers to help, telling Mary Margaret that he loves to cook when she protests and says he’s a guest, and with that, Emma and David excuse themselves to go sit in the living room and hang out with Leo. For a minute he’s anxious about Emma leaving him alone with Mary Margaret, but the woman is so sweet that she immediately starts talking to him, asking him about his favorite recipes and go-to meals. It’s a conversation that’s easy to fall into, and before he knows it, there’s no silences between the two of them. The food talk fades into talk of Mary Margaret’s job, and he lets her tell him all about her students, which is a subject she’s extremely passionate about.

He’s pretty sure by the time the casserole is in the oven and he’s chopping up carrots for the salad, he can repeat each of her students’ names and their favorite subject in school as well as the subject they actually excel at. But he doesn’t mind learning about someone else’s job, especially if they’re passionate about it. He enjoys it.

Plus, Mary Margaret is oddly entertaining, the way she flits in and out of being someone who’s as soft and sweet as candy but then can mutter the word “fuck” underneath her breath when she nearly burns the rolls she’s cooking.

He likes her. He can see why Emma does too, and he’s glad that they all found each other at university.

“Hey,” Emma greets, walking into the kitchen and squeezing his hip before she reaches into a cabinet and grabs a glass, filling it with water from the fridge, “it smells fantastic in here. You guys doing good?”

“Great, love.”

“Oh, Emma, Killian is just fantastic. He’s been telling me all about what it was like living in Australia for a few months. You know how I’ve always wanted to go.”

“So he’s schmoozing you with his worldly ways, Marg?”

“Oh completely.” Emma comes to stand next to him, resting her hips against the edge of counter, while Mary Margaret continues to talk. “I mean, we talked about food forever, but then somehow we got off on this tangent. Makes me feel so…untraveled.”

“Marg, you and David went to France for your honeymoon. I know because when you came back you were always saying things like ‘when I was abroad’ or ‘you know in France.’”

“I did not.”

“You definitely did. I thought Ruby was going lose her mind from holding back her tongue.”

“Oh God,” Ruby groans, walking into the room with someone who must be Victor standing behind her, a bottle of wine in his hand. Talk about weird timing. He didn’t even hear the door open. “Mary Margaret you were the actual worst. And David wasn’t much better.”

“David was worse,” Emma adds in before taking a sip of her water.

“Hello, lover boy,” Ruby greets, nodding her head at him.

All he can do is chuckle in response as he shakes his head back and forth. The lass has the personality of about five different people combined, and she’s always keeping him on his toes when she’s around. Mostly because he has no idea what outrageous thing she’s going to say to embarrass the hell out of him. He didn’t think that he became embarrassed easily, but he was apparently wrong.

“Hi, Ruby. Nice to see you again.”

“Well, it’s always nice to see you, Jones.” Emma laughs beside him, and he looks down to see her rolling her eyes into her cup, so he wraps his arm around her waist and thumbs at the strip of skin between her jeans and her shirt. “Vic, this is Killian, Emma’s boyfriend.”

“The actor, right?”

“Aye,” he nods, reaching across the kitchen island to shake Victor’s hand, smiling at him and feeling a bit of relief that he’s now met most of the people in Emma’s life without total disaster. “You work at Mass Gen, right?”

“For two years now, yeah. It’s great. And I really like being back home after living in Atlanta for so long.”

“I can imagine.”

He doesn’t know what else to say, all of the words he knows dying on the tip of his tongue, but luckily David comes back into the kitchen with a squirming Leo who absolutely just has to show Killian his Superman toys, so with little coaxing, he moves his hand off of Emma’s waist and follows Leo into the living room, settling down on the carpet while Leo unpacks an entire basket of toys. One by one Leo places stuffed animals and plastic figures over his lap, making his jeans disappear from sight.

Leo is only a year and a half older than Aiden is, and he absolutely cannot believe the difference that time makes. He’s like his own little man, talking in broken sentences and describing to him the names of each of his toys. He doesn’t know what it means that the only man in this house that he’s truly gotten along with is a toddler, but he’s chalking it up to this being their first meeting. It’s not like they’ve known each other for months or years. It’s a few hours, so he’s not expecting to make any new best friends.

He was just kind of hoping that he wouldn’t be fumbling around like an idiot in front of everyone.

Emma finds him after he’s been with Leo for a few minutes, settling down next to him and idly moving the toys on his legs over to hers. “You okay?”

“I’m perfect. Why?”

“You’re just a little quiet is all.”

“David and Victor…they, uh, intimidate me.”

“What? Babe, that’s ridiculous.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, relaxing his back against the couch, his arse starting to hurt from sitting on the floor. “I just…I don’t know what to say. I talk with people I don’t know all of the time, but I feel like they don’t like me.”

“First of all, they like you. Victor doesn’t even know anything about you, and as good as he is for Ruby, he’s never been much of a conversationalist. And David is…he’s David. I think he’s trying to play the role of my father when that is exactly what I told him not to do.”

“That’s kind of what I figured by all of the stares and crossed arms.”

“He’ll warm up to you.” She reaches over and squeezes his hand, interlacing their fingers before bringing them up to her lips and kissing his knuckles. “I promise. And if he doesn’t, I can kick his a-s-s.”

“Ah, ah, Swan. Here I thought that I was the spelling bee champion in this relationship.”

“Well, it looks like we are just hitting it out of the ballpark on every level. Those people in the kitchen can’t compare to us.”

“Wasn’t aware it was a competition.”

She nudges his shoulder. “Always.”

“Food’s ready,” David yells from the kitchen, his voice loudly echoing throughout the house. “Make sure to remember to bring my kid back, Emma.”

-/-

Emma slides down onto his lap, easily settling her arse onto his thighs while his arm wraps around her waist and he pats against her stomach, David continuing to tell him about the improvements around the house. He hasn’t decided if David is just really into home improvement or if he’s awkwardly searching for things to talk about with him and that’s the first thing that came to mind. It’s still a bit awkward, the dinner they all ate together making things the slightest bit better, and he’s glad that Emma’s returned from the bathroom. She was gone for what felt like hours, and he feels like he formulated about ten different ways to excuse himself to go outside where Ruby and Victor are arguing over Victor’s coworker. He’s only known the man for a few hours, and he knows that Victor definitely should not have mentioned that he was dating one of his coworkers before he got back together with Ruby. In front of all of Ruby’s friends, at least. Maybe when he was alone with Ruby.  

Especially since Ruby didn’t know about it.

Yeah, that’s what he would find preferable to talk about over the new faucet David installed in their guest bathroom. Maybe that’s why Emma was gone for so long. She couldn’t get the water to turn on or was too damn fascinated by the faucet.

“Where’s Marg?” she whispers in his ear, placing her hands over his on her stomach.

“She took Leo upstairs to get ready for bed, said that Dave and I should talk.”

“How’s that going?”

“I can hear you two,” David groans, cutting a glance over at them that makes Emma lean her cheek against his.

“I know” she laughs. “I was expecting you to. Why are you boring Killian with home improvement stuff? I’m pretty sure he doesn’t do any of his own stuff.”

“Oi, I know how to do some things, but honestly I do just call Will if it gets a little more complex than following an instruction manual.”

“Exactly. Talking about the different types of screwdrivers is not a great conversation topic. You could have just talked about all of the murder you see at work or something. That’s a fun thing.”

“I could always ask him what his intentions are with you.”

He feels Emma almost lunge off of his lap, his forearm holding her back, and he chuckles into her hair while she grits out, “We talked about that. You’re supposed to be nice and also not someone out of the, like, 1800s. No one says things like that anymore.”

So maybe Emma was right earlier. Maybe David is just a bit stilted with him because he’s trying to fill some kind of role. He’s like Liam, Killian realizes, more ease settling into him than he’s felt all night. He’s just protective, cautious, and if anything, he’s doing a hell of a lot better job than Liam did when he met Emma.

“Well, I’m just curious. I can’t remember the last time you let us meet a boyfriend. I think it was Walsh.”

“And that went so well.”

“What happened when David met Walsh, love?”

“Oh, Walsh’s first words when I was out of the room were about my ass. And then he asked David if he had ever ‘hit that.’”

“Wow,” Killian whistles, disbelief settling in his stomach, “he sounds like a wanker.”

“He was,” David answers, uncrossing his arms and letting them fall against his sides. “You seem like less of one.”

Ah, so things aren’t going too badly then. He leans his head forward, flashing David the brightest smile that he can muster. “Aw, Dave, I knew you’d warm up to me.”

“Don’t push things,” David growls, his lips twitching the slightest bit, almost into a smile.

“Anyways,” Emma begins, adjusting herself so that she rubs herself into him (which is definitely not a good thing for where they are) as a Bruins commercial plays on the television, “someone explain to me how Gritty is still around. I saw a commercial with him last night, and I am still disturbed.” “I think that’s why, love. Good marketing.”

“Yeah, but it’s, like, aren’t kids just going to be terrified of him?”

“I’m terrified of him,” David adds. “And then those people who have a fear of mascots…this probably just proves their point.”

“Is that a real thing? Just being scared of all mascots. Like, are people scared of Mickey Mouse?”

“Aye,” he confirms. “Elsa’s sister is bloody terrified of all of them. I think it’s related to the whole clown thing we were talking about the other day.”

“Isn’t she a costume designer? Doesn’t she, you know, dress people up as other things for a living?”

“Ironic, I know.”

“And Elsa is?”

“My brother’s wife,” Killian explains, looking to the side when he hears the front door open and close, Ruby and Victor walking in side by side with smiles on their faces and Ruby’s shirt hanging off her shoulder and Victor’s hair sticking up all over the place. He’s not going to ask about that. At all. Even if he wonders where the hell they could have fooled around when all of the houses out here are practically on top of each other. “They have a son, Aiden, who’s one.”

“And this is the brother who threatened to call the cops on Emma?” “David,” Emma chastises, her chest heaving and body flinching under his touch, “we worked that out. It’s not a thing anymore.”

“But you haven’t even talked to Liam.”

“I haven’t seen him. I’ll talk to him when I see him. Killian and I are good. There’s no need to bring up the shitty stuff.”

“Exactly,” Ruby huffs, obviously still a bit frustrated with Victor from what he can tell. “Can we have beer now that your mini me is asleep?”

“You could have had it before.”

“You did have it before, honey. I can taste it on your tongue.”

At that, Victor pretty much licks into Ruby’s mouth, his tongue visible to everyone in the room, and Killian almost gags. He’s all about showing the woman you love that you love her, but not necessarily like that…in front of people. But Emma’s told him how well Ruby and Victor work together, and while he doesn’t see that quite yet, he’s beginning to understand a bit. They’re like two fiery personalities who somehow don’t consistently crash...despite earlier. Maybe he just needs to spend time with them. He liked Ruby the night they met at the gala, but he can definitely understand how having a friend like her would be an adjustment. She’s like Will on steroids.

“You guys are disgusting,” Emma groans, moving his arm off of her stomach so that she can get up, the loss of heat immediate. “What movie are we watching tonight?”

“Infinity War.”

“The Princess Bride.”

“Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Okay, so that’s not a consensus at all,” Emma sighs as she pulls her jeans up. “You guys figure something out while I go make popcorn and get the drinks or Mary Margaret gets to decide on the movie.”

“No,” everyone but him yells at once, and that’s the moment he learns to never let Mary Margaret pick out a movie.

“Exactly. Decide.”

It’s more difficult than he would expect to pick out a movie, but he doesn’t often sit around and watch movies with his mates. They usually only come over for a football match or two, and they always know exactly which game to watch. But while Emma’s gone, they scroll through Netflix, hurrying along when Mary Margaret comes back downstairs and settles down next to David, immediately pointing to a romantic comedy that looks as if it was made in a high school...by middle schoolers.

“Oooh, we could watch Hush,”Ruby suggests, looking at him. “Aren’t you shirtless in a scene in that movie?”

He blushes, not being able to help himself. Yeah, so that’s another reason why he doesn’t watch a lot of movies with his mates. They always tease him about everything. Emma’s friends have seemed to catch onto that quickly.

“Yeah, let’s not watch that,” Victor adds in.

“I agree, Vic. That’s not something I really want to see. No offense, Jones.”

“None taken. I agree with both of you. A hell of a lot, actually.”

They do eventually end up settling on one of the Thor movies. Ruby and Victor have somehow never seen it, even if it’s over a year old at this point, and he in David couldn’t let that slide. He also makes a note that he can talk about movies with David if their conversation ever gets stilted again. He feels like it eventually has to get better. This is just a first meeting, and those aren’t exactly known for being the smoothest things in the world. Plus, he thinks he’s doing great getting on with Mary Margaret and Ruby. He likes them a lot, and he hopes they like him. It’s been awhile since he had to meet the friends of a girlfriend, and he’s been downplaying how much he hopes they all like him ever since Emma told him they were all hanging out today.

Because he really wants them to like him. It’s important to him, and he knows it’s important to Emma even if she’s downplaying it too. This is like her family. These are her people, the ones she’s allowed into her life, and he understands the significance of her allowing him to be a part of the group too. It’s one thing for it to just be the two of them. It’s another for her to want him to be in more aspects of her life.

While they’re trying to get the speaker the Nolans just installed (another one of David’s handyman projects), he gets up to head to the kitchen where Emma is padding back and forth on her feet while popcorn cooks in the microwave, several other bowls already filled up.

“You,” he begins stepping up to her and wrapping his arms around her waist while he presses a kiss against her cheek. “are cooking popcorn for the masses, love. We just ate dinner.”

“Hmm, doesn’t mean there’s not room in our stomachs for popcorn. What are we watching?”

“Ragnarok. Ruby and Victor have never seen it somehow.”

“That’s because Victor barely leaves the hospital and Ruby’s pop culture kryptonite is movies. It’s the one thing she isn’t an expert in.”

“Why’s that?”

“She has issues sitting through an entire movie.” The microwave beeps and Emma moves herself out of his arms to open the door and grab the bag, shaking it around before pouring it in a large bowl. “Do you want candy mixed in with this, KJ?”

“If I say no is that going to change anything?”

“Nope. You want to see what they have to drink? I know they don’t have rum, but they usually have some pretty good stuff.”

“I wasn’t really planning on drinking tonight. One of us has to drive home.”

Emma opens her mouth, almost like she’s going to say something, but then her lips close and he sees the slightest shake of her head. Whatever it was, she’s obviously changed her mind. “I honestly was just going to devour the lemonade Marg made. It’s full of sugar, but it’s so damn good. So you can drink if you want to. I don’t mind driving. I mean, I drove us here.”

He nods, still not really wanting anything, but he does grab the beers for everyone else as well as picking up a bowl of popcorn so Emma’s not carrying all three of them back into the living room. When he gets back, Victor and Ruby have settled themselves onto his spot, Mary Margaret and David taking up the other couch, so he puts the food and drinks on the coffee table before reclaiming the large recliner, figuring he and Emma can share even if her knows it’ll likely kill their thighs after a few hours. But that’s what they do, Emma joining him not a minute later, handing him her bowl of popcorn that he’s pretty sure is filled with gummy candies while she squeezes into the small sliver of space next to him, one arse cheek propped up on him while the other rests on the cushion. She’s definitely not going to last long like that.

“You eat like a child,” he tells her when she takes her first big handful of popcorn, stuffing it in her face all at once.

“Hush,” she shushes, leaning over and brushing a kiss against the side of his jaw. “I know you like gummy candies. They’re sour too. I got them out of Marg’s not-so-secret stash.”

“Stealing and bribery? A regular pirate.”

“Well, I figured Loki would be proud since that’s what we’re watching. Keeping in the theme and all.”

“Aye, I imagine he would be. What kind of candy did everyone else get?”

“Nothing. Then Marg would know I went through her stash.”

He has to bite his tongue to keep his laughter from being too loud, even if Chris Hemsworth is spinning around in chains on screen, as well as biting it so he doesn’t tell Emma he loves her then and there. He’s been tempted to so many times in the past week, their proximity making it more difficult to hide how he feels, but he told himself he’d wait for her, let her take the lead. At least on this.

“You are sneaky, Swan.”

“I know. I have nimble fingers.” He waggles his eyebrows at her, kissing her temple and adjusting his arm around her shoulder before turning back and actually paying attention to the movie.

Sometime later, he wakes with a crick in his neck and a pain in his thigh, the muscles twitching the slightest bit. It takes several seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness so that he can understand where exactly he is. Bloody hell, he fell asleep during the movie, and considering the only person left in the room is Emma, everyone else must have gone off to bed or gone home.

He feels Emma twitch on top of him, her legs stretching out in front of him while her entire body lifts off the seat. “What time is it?” she mumbles, burying her face in his shoulder.

He fumbles around for his phone, pulling it out of the pocket and trying not to cringe at the brightness of the screen. “A little past two in the morning.”

“Shit. That’s late. We should go home.”

“I’m sure David and Mary Margaret wouldn’t mind if we stayed here.”

“My back minds.” Slowly, Emma gets up from the seat, immediately stretching her hands up over her head, her shirt lifting to show the muscles of her stomach. “I’m not sleeping in a chair or on a couch when I have a perfectly good bed at home.”

“But we’ll have to move.”

“Uh huh,” she sighs, reaching up and rubbing her fists over her eyes to rub out the sleep. “Come on. There won’t be any traffic. We’ll be back in, like, ten minutes. Let me just leave a note for Marg.”

True to her word, he and Emma are back in her apartment in ten minutes (he thinks it might have been eight and that she broke several traffic laws), and even though he thinks he’s going to fall asleep the moment his head hits the pillow, he doesn’t. Instead he’s wide awake, likely in that hazy period where you’re so tired that you can’t sleep, so tired that you actually have energy.

Bloody hell. He always hates this.

When he goes home, he seriously has to get back on a normal sleeping schedule. Filming for so long at such weird hours was like hell. Not to mention Emma being in a different time zone, even if that isn’t too bad. Not for him at least. He knows he must keep her up late.

Speak of the devil, she flops down on the mattress, her jeans and blouse gone and replaced with the pajamas he’s discovered that she prefers, before crawling under the covers and pulling them up to her neck like she’s forming some kind of human burrito. She’s also a blanket hog. Like, a serious blanket hog.

He’s just about to tug the comforter back over to him when she rolls over, landing right next to him and sticking her socked feet in between his calves. He’s glad she’s got on socks. She’s a blanket hog and has cold feet.

He loves her.

“So, you survived the meeting of the friends. How does it feel?”

“Like, a bloody relief.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” she laughs, reaching over and rubbing her hand over his collarbone, making a shiver run down his spine. “I will admit that everyone wasn’t exactly their best selves tonight. Except for your new biggest fan Leo. Mary Margaret totally put him in that shirt on purpose.”

“I figured,” he chuckles, finding her waist under the comforter and pulling her closer. “I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or embarrassed.”

“Both, I think. You’re literally his hero.”

He scrunches up his nose, clicking his tongue but not protesting. He wants to, but he won’t. “So do you think I passed the imaginary test I was taking?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“Oh you don’t know?” “Well, David is a tough grader. Ruby can be a bit finicky.”

“Technically, Ruby set us up, so really, she should be my biggest fan. Not Leo.”

“Shh,” she laughs, gently slapping his shoulder. “Don’t give Ruby any credit. She already lets her head get big every time we’re together. We don’t need more of that.” “She can’t hear us, love.”

“She has her ways.”

He snickers underneath his breath, the laugh beginning to rumble in his stomach. He doesn’t doubt it. Ruby does seem like she has her ways to do everything.

“Well, I look forward to my report card.” “If it matters, I’ll give you an ‘s’ for satisfactory.”

“Bloody hell, all I get is satisfactory?”

“Well, that’s how your sex is, so I figured that’s just how you’d get graded for everything.”

She squeals as he rolls over on top of her, caging her into the mattress and rubbing his scruff against her cheeks all the while his fingers move against her sides, knowing that she hates when anyone does this. “Satisfactory,” he gruffs, kissing along her jawline while she continues to laugh, her breath catching with each movement, “I’ll show you damn satisfactory.”

[firecrackerroot]

Dear DC3, here’s the answer you deserve....

Once again, my friend, once again you manage to make me tear up at work and spend an entire day thinking about how to reply to you. But I’m going to try. AS best as I can without starting to cry again ahahaha everything you said is in bold and my answer will be bellow each part. Here we go....

Your mind? Unmatched. Your writing ability? Flawless. Hotel? Trivago.

Okay, so two three things first:

1. I’m not sure if you can see my email (I had to put it on the form to submit this), but just in case you can I want it to be known that middle school me did not know how horrible a person real life Randy Orton is. I have since come to my senses and no longer stan.

- I completely understand because I too have an embarassing email and it’s too late to let it go ahaha

2. I’m sorry this took a century to get to you. My only excuse is a winter storm that the States had wrecked my internet connection (and my will to do anything productive, tbh). To make up for it, I shall share my thoughts on both chapter 10 and the epilogue at the same time so it doesn’t take me another hundred years to message you about the last chapter.

- I would’ve waited another century, don’t worry :) as for the storm, I hope the only thing it damaged was your internet connection and that other than that, everything else is okay. And just like your internect connection, I hope your will to do anything productive has been restored!

Sidenote: I’m finishing writing this at 4:30am where I live, so I’m going to go ahead and apologize if most of this has spelling errors or doesn’t make sense. I’m going to try and go back over this before I submit it so you don’t have to read a whole mess………. but also I’m tired so….. sorry :D

- 4.30am??????????? On a week day?????????? Holy shit! Thank you for your bravery, truly ahahaha 

Anyways, onto my favorite fic ever…

- *blushes*

I love how you were able to explain The Marine 6’s plot in a way that didn’t take away from the story you were telling. I believe that even if I never watched the film, I would still be able to understand what was going on… but since I did watch the whole thing, I greatly appreciated how you structured this chapter in a way that you didn’t explicitly need to recap everything that was going on in the movie. It made for a much smoother read, so thank you.

- Phew! I’m glad to know that, both those things. The structure and the plot. Because I struggled a little bit with making sure everything would fit and make sense and I had to keep thinking about the movie and plot holes where I could fit my story so.... It was a lot of juggling. And fun fact: I tweeted the director of the movie about how long he thinks the action of the movie took, just to be sure my hours were correct but he didn’t get the questions and told me how long it took them to shoot the movie so I just went with my calculations ahahahaha

“In fact, had Maddy stayed in their apartment another minute or two, Cassie would’ve been on her knees pleading for her not to go.” I love this sentence because of how easily you were able to express Cassie’s love for Maddy in four short words: “on her knees pleading.” Picturing tall, strong Cassie so willing to show that type of vulnerability to Maddy is just so… i can’t think of the word… idyllic? idk… it was just a really gentle moment between the two. I genuinely enjoyed that simple sentence.

- Now that you mention it, I’m actually picturing tall strong Cassie on her knees begging Maddy not to go and it hurts. But I get what you’re saying. Is a type of vulnerability not everyone is willing to give/feel and we don’t get to see every day. But those two? They’re on that level.

Also, I love how you were able to insert your own universe in actual movie events without it being a reach. For example, having Cassie be the reason the boat and Cat showed up was a really nice touch and such an effortless way to express how much Cass looks out for Maddy.

- Cat actually shows up because Maddy asks one of the guys to ask her to return and bring the rest of them but, while Cat is driving there, she can still tell Cassie what’s happening. As for the boat, it felt so random in the movie that I had to explain it. Like......... She’s supposed to hold Sarah hostage in the building and then leave so why would the boat be there? Makes no sense ahahaha

I’m not sure if I’ve ever properly addressed this (and I’m still not sure how to word it correctly), but I love how your foreshadowing(?) comes off almost offhandedly? Like, you mentioned once about the significance of Cassie’s name in Greek mythology and then you subtly had that theme pop up in Maddy’s musings about her in past chapters… and if you weren’t paying attention I feel like it’d be easy to overlook those little tie-ins you so seamlessly include. I think it’s referred to as a motif? I’m not really sure, though, I never really spent time trying to understand that stuff in school and now I’m kinda regretting it lol. But anyways, I believe this is the first time you outwardly used that mythology connection to Cassie’s “predicting” an event in this chapter à la the drowning nightmare she had after watching a scary movie before bed. And that’s not the only thing that you would reference to in a past chapter and then repeatedly tie into something going on in the current chapter (like the life-changing car ride moments, the knife, etc.)… This story was so connected and thought out it blows my mind because I feel like that’s the type of writing I usually see in actual books and not fanfiction.

- Tbh I have no idea what it’s called either ahahahahaha but....... I truly like full circles. In shows and movies and books. And when they’re, like you say I do, easily overlooked, it makes everything more awesome because whenever you go back, you find something new. And I like that so.... I write that................. One thing about Cassie’s predictions tho. The mythology about her said no one believed her predictions and Maddy didn’t believe she shouldn’t go and, well, look what happened.

You’re such an intelligent writer and I’m not sure if I just never paid enough attention to other fics before or what, but I feel like I haven’t seen the same amount of time, dedication, and thought you put into your work be replicated in the same success in anything else I’ve read on ao3. And that’s not to say that other stories I spent time reading on that site weren’t good or the author didn’t spend as much time as you did on their story… but idk dude, there was just something so special about your fic that I had to say something. Honestly, I think that’s what made me reach out to you, to begin with. I just needed you to know how fantastic this story was because it touched me in a way other fics haven’t. But lemme stop this ramble here because we have more of the actual story to discuss…

- *insert photo of Becky, crying, holding her title close to her chest after the Last Woman Standing match* 

I’m not sure if it was how I was reading it or if you meant it this way, but once Michael helped Cassie provide Maddy another means of an escape through water, I feel like Cassie’s panic over the situation skyrocketed and that feeling was replicated in the way you wrote her thought process. I even started to read the chapter a bit faster to find out what was going to happen next, which caused me to miss things; I had to go back and force myself to slow down and absorb your words properly- something I feel like Cassie was also doing as to not prematurely freak out over a situation that hasn’t happened yet. So that was kind of cool “bonding” moment I had with Cassie there lol.

- I love that you bonded with Cassie for all the wrong reasons ahahahaahahahahahahhahahahahaah but yeah, I meant it like that. The fact that Michael sent the boat didn’t help Cassie calm down. It only worsen the situation for her because all she could think about was her dream and it was suffocating her.

“This time, Cassie’s heart was sinking lower and lower in her body. To a depth she had never reached.” STOP WITH THE DROWNING REFERENCES IT HURTS MY HEART!!!

- I’M. SORRY.

“IF YOU DON’T CALL IT, I WILL PICK UP THAT PHONE AND I WILL MOVE HELL IF I HAVE TO.” I imagine if this was a movie that this would be the part where the audience would cheer the main character for not sitting idly by and letting the love of their life die and also where the gays would weep because "they love each other so much” 😂

- True and every true ahahahahahaahhahahaha

“I’m not going to lose the love of my life because of someone who never loved her enough.” Okay, wow, the power of that statement hurt but also YASSSSS CASSIE. It’s ridiculous how much you’ve made me love these characters. Like I feel actual happiness that Maddy has someone like Cassie to love her that perfectly (and i’m a lil jealous because why can’t I find my own Cassie?)

- Confession: I had to stop writing after that line because I started crying about it. And that was one of the lines I didn’t have planned. I was doing my thing, thinking about that dialogue and suddenly I hear Cassie’s crying voice say that in the back of my mind and I had to sit down because well, shit. (you’ll find your Cassie unless...................... you’re Cassie!)

Also, it is so refreshing to have a healthy parental relationship being shown here. Honestly, the fact that Michael, without question, gave up a favor with the coast guard all based on Cassie feeling that something was wrong is HUGE. Michael could have used that favor if something went wrong in a deal and they had to hide evidence in the water or something… like it could have been a “get out of jail free” card and he didn’t even blink when deciding to use it on Cassie’s whim. I’m so, so, so happy Maddy found the Knox’s. She deserves this level of  love after the bullshit her father has put her through… When you expand this universe into little one-shots, I would love to see the Knox family dynamics where Maddy is concerned. Like the process of how each member fell in love and accepted this broken Irish girl into their family and the maddening moments where they could tell Maddy didn’t understand how important she is to them. I can just imagine how many headaches her obliviousness gave the Knox’s throughout the years.

- Michael might be a mob king but he’s a very Soft man. And not only did he knew how much Maddy meant to Cassie, he also wasn’t willing to lose Maddy. Which means that if he could do something to save her, even if it meant giving up a “get out of jail free” card, as you say it, to help? Then so be it. Also isn’t it painfully interesting that Horus destroyed Maddy’s life in more ways than one but at the same time, he was the one that gave her the Knox’s? Makes you think.......................................... As for your wish, consider it granted. Title of the story? “Michael and Beth: 2 times they realized they loved Maddy and 2 times they wished she understood.”

When you switch back to Maddy’s POV and she basically says she deserves to die because of the choices she made, I wanted to grab her out of the water and strangle her myself for being so DUMB to believe she deserved it and for how SELFISH she was by giving up because Cassie doesn’t deserve a dead girlfriend!!!! Ugh, I love her so much but sometimes I really want to ram Maddy’s head against the wall lmaoo.

- Same, my friend, same ahahahahaha when I imagined the scene and proceeded to write it, I remember laughing because c’mon Madssssssssssssssssssssss, the girl is waiting!

“Beth, her mother, was waiting by the hospital door and no one seemed to be around. Strange for that time of the day.” Ah, I see the “great lengths to protect” Maddy conversation we had on tumblr came to play here. Again, I’m so glad she has this family in her life.

- That’s exactly it. Michael emptied that aisle of the hospital just so Maddy could be taken in without being seen.

Also, did the importance of the mausoleum ever come into play? Maybe I’ll answer my own question when I reread the epilogue to write my comments on that… Speaking of, I can’t believe how long this post already is and I’m not even on the epilogue yet.

- Not explicitly, no. Since the Hayes left when Nora was killed, her body was left behind for others to bury. Others being her family that never approved her marriage to Horus. So, obviously, they’d bury her on their terms, with her name. It was also a little bit of foreshadowing that Maddy too wouldn’t be buried in the mausoleum.

“To know it was real and that she hadn’t been fed false hopes only to crumble to her knees by a hospital bed.” Hmmmmm, is this a subtle nod to earlier in the chapter where Cassie was going to drop to her knees and beg Maddy to stay? ‘Cause then you do the same thing with the, “Everything was calm. The storm had already passed. And they both reached the shore. Safe and sound.” lines. Tying it back to the beginning of their relationship where a storm was roaring until they stopped being stupid and gentle rain awarded them after they finally embraced. It’s poetic really.

- I didn’t meant that kneeling to be a subtle nod to the beginning of the chapter but I did mean the storm passing one. Good eye!!!!!!

I don’t even want to talk about the following paragraphs that lead to the end of the story. They’re too perfect and heartbreaking and there’s nothing for me to say because you already have. Brava, my friend.

- I feel you but let me just say that I felt a little bit of pride with the last two lines Michael and Beth said. The whole “we’re asking you to marry our daughter”.

–

Onto the epilogue…

Honestly, I’m not sure I’m going to have a lot to say on this because this whole chapter is just so perfect to me. You couldn’t pay me to come up with a better ending than this… Everything just came so full circle, it’s beautiful. I can easily picture the epilogue being an end credit scene of the film where you think the hard parts are over and haynox is living an idyllic life out in Ireland, just for the ending seconds of the film to close out on the two kicking ass and being the badass partner in crime duo we know them to be. I love it, I love it, I love it.

- Yeeeeeeeeeees, that’s what I meant for it to be. End credits, wrapping up everything. And when it all looks nice and smooth, the fire starts to burn and our partner in crime duo start to be badass again!

“But you love and respect your wife so…” Ahhh!!! it’s so weird seeing them call each other that, but (if you couldn’t tell) I love it! It’s what these dummies deserve. Also, I have a feeling it might have gone over my head, but is the necklace metaphor about their love/Maddy not being able to slip away? Like the necklace is tying down the ring so it can’t do something stupid like, say, DROWN IN THE WATER? 😂

 - Huahahahahaha Maddy feels the same way, she’s also not used to the new term but they’ll get used to it. They have a lifetime to do so after all. As for the metaphor, it’s two things actually xD The first one you’re very close. I don’t know if you watched Jennifer’s Body but the only reason why Jennifer doesn’t die when Needy stabs her is because of their friendship necklace and when Needy rips it off, she dies. It’s like she’s tied to life by it. And the same can be said about Maddy and her necklace + ring. (it also means Cassie has Maddy by the throat which relates to their bedroom shenanigans but lets leave it at that ahahahah)

Also, the whole funeral scene was gold. From Cassie wanting to burn Horus alive and then realizing Hell will do that for her to Maddy being an idiot for considering leaving the car but allowing Cassie to have the control in confronting her father and finally ending her story with the Hayes. Ugh. Genius.

- Initially, I had planned for Cassie to set his car on fire and then drive away but as a I was writing, it sort of happened this way and I like it much better ahahah And we all know Maddy is an idiot but Cassie avenged her properly so it was all good.

Speaking of, you handled the time jumps so effortlessly and I could see you going back to certain events in your side stories- like Cassie helping Maddy through her fear of water, their first Christmas together as a couple, Maddy realizing that she was wrong before and that warm home she didn’t believe she could have again in Ireland was always possible with Cassie by her side… so many possibilities. (Also, I’d 100% be content with just playing them out in my head, so don’t feel obligated/overwhelmed to write them!)

- All of these have been added to my to-do list ahahahaha but I’m on vacation right now so unless you want to talk about certain parts of that before I start writing, we can. If not, starting February 22, I will HOPEFULLY make it rain again.

Okay, so the reasoning behind Maddy’s new name is perfect and everything I never knew I needed. And I totally see Maddy in you with the “…was more than what you thought you deserved. And more than you could ever thank them for.” bit. Newsflash, my friend, you and Maddy both deserve what this story has given you. I hope that one day you both can accept how wonderful you are and how much you deserve the praises you get on the world’s you create.

- All I can say to this message is thank you and I truly hope you’re right because in this moment? I can only vouch for Maddy when I say she deserves the world. Can’t say the same about myself. But I appreciate your words, all of them and I’m forever thankful for them. I hope you know that.

Weird coincidence, but I recently stumbled upon the song “Call Me” by Shinedown and have been kind of obsessed with it so when I found out that the pub and shop are called Sinners and Saints I was shooketh™ because that’s literally a line in the song… Anyways, I love the name of the buildings. I feel like that fits who they are so perfectly, you know? They are not one or the other, hot or cold, in or out, they’re always a perfect mix of both.

- I just heard that song and it’s preeeeeeeeetty cool and can actually fit Maddy, if you think about it. The names of the buildings actually came from the song that names the chapter because I feel it perfectly recaps the story. But yes, they’re a mix of both and isn’t that the best place to be?

And my god, we do not deserve Cassie. Her buying the shop? Painting the door green? Doing the research to find out the name of the pub that Maddy herself forgot? Having an auto shop be RIGHT there????? It’s fate. The red string theory. All the people and events they had to go through brings them right back where it started because that’s where they belong. It’s beautiful, so, so beautiful.

- When Cassie bought the shop, she asked for the history of it, previous owners and all that to get the information about it. And the auto shop was built from scratch because it wasn’t there. The red string theory always comes into play and especially here because, if you think about, they would’ve met at the pub even if Maddy’s left hadn’t changed. Think with me. Maddy would keep working at the pub, unknowing about the rest and one day Cassie and Michael enter to greet Horus and say their brewery is branching into Europe. It would’ve happened anyway.

I love that you showed Maddy calling Michael. She finally has a father that not only cares about her but is someone Maddy feels like she can go to and express herself to. And I love how you wrapped up her life in America. I can’t remember what chapter it was in, but I know you mentioned that even though Maddy does bad things, she always tries to make sure the innocents are spared so they don’t have to experience what she had to. So to see Neptune, the shop, and the rest of her employees being taken cared of instead of just forgotten after her “death” is perfect and such a Maddy thing to do. I’m thrilled you included that small bit.

- She could’ve called Beth but she wanted specific information only Michael could give. And yes, she finally has A Father. That’s her motto. That and the fact that it was never about the money. So she always paid her employees handsomely and if they needed help with a children tuition of something, she’d gladly pay for it. Knowing about that dependency, she would obviously leave them her car shop money if anything was to happen. Which she did.

I also love that haynox didn’t have to give up everything they wanted to be safe. In fact, they got everything they ever wanted- they’re married and in love, Maddy has her car shop she worked so hard for, Cassie has the brewery that she gets to build from the ground up, they’re both still involved in the crime business, and they both get to live in a place they consider to be “home.” You could not have written a more perfect ending.

- Everything they ever wanted is their, so long as they work for it. And they did. And now it’s time to enjoy every second of it. Together. 

You gave them paradise.

- And you gave me many reasons to smile. I’m beyond thankful for the day that you decided to follow my story and felt so............. compelled by it............... that you decided to reach out and overwhelm me time and time again. Thank you. So much. For everything. I hope you stick around for more and I hope you know how awesome and kind and giving you are :)

[kitschcats]

I Don’t Know How to Title My Posts

You know, the thing about writing is that you’re never quite sure where to begin. You can have all these pent-up ideas buzzing around the inside of your head, banging at the walls and demanding to be let out. But you can just as easily be at a loss for how.

Luckily, through the power of word vomit and occasional use of the backspace key, I managed to get that last paragraph down and into words. And hopefully that’s what I will continue to be doing for the entirety of the rest of this post.

As of writing this it is 2:27 PM. I had a breakfast of 6 slices of buttered toast (if you can do it with pancakes, then why not toast?) earlier, accompanied by the same book I’ve been reading for the last month. I know, a month? Younger me would have been horrified. She could bulldoze through all seven books of Harry Potter within a week--Order of the Phoenix included. My mum chides me for it too, but she knows that I am, at the very least, reading again. And no matter how long you take, you’re still reading. (I think she’s guilty of the same, too.)

I used to tell her I didn’t have time to read (yes, I know) and she told me off for it. At the time I felt that was unnecessary, but looking back I now agree with her wholeheartedly. You make time to read, and even if you try your damnedest and just can’t seem to squeeze a minute of reading in between the blocks of class and work and sleep in your daily schedule, there’s still a few golden minutes of the day left you can cram a few pages of a book into--over a meal. (On the train, too, of course. It’s why I don’t dread my daily commute as much anymore--it’s precious reading time. Bright side of things, right?) It’s what I do every day. Granted, not every meal, but every day at least, whenever I’m staying in to eat. I grab my copy of Tom Robbins from its permanent spot on the dining table (where it’s also most convenient, because I wouldn’t be reaching for it any other time nor anywhere else), and read, the book wide-open and its spine stretched, standing up balanced against the edge of my plate. French music plays in the background.

(I should really remember to take pictures of these. In my next entry, I hope.)

One of these days, I hope to be implementing a lot of the books I’m reading and plan to read into this blog in some way--reviews of each one after I’m finished, maybe, and maybe I’ll compile them all into one big masterlist to which I regularly update. That would be nice. A little hint on what I’m reading: immortality, time-shifting, and perfume.

My to-do list:

write this post

update my theme (finally something I’m happy with)

do some studying (history/geo, because their papers are closest lol)

past years (if only I could strike this through)

brush up on my Japanese today, do a little more katakana practice (and try out Memrise, because Duolingo sucks)

refresh emails religiously (AFS will be the death of me)

Speaking of AFS--yeah. This all-expenses-covered 6 month exchange to Japan that I applied for sometime ago, back in September. I think about it when I first wake up and rush to my inbox, when I’m in the shower, when I’m lying in bed at night and can’t sleep--needless to say, I really want to go. I have been wanting to, for the longest time. Results are finally on their way now, but they’re announcing shortlisted candidates for the interviews state-by-state and they are taking an excruciatingly conveniently long time to get to mine, being Damansara (they split KL/Selangor into four chapters, can you imagine the sort of competition?).  They’ve been at it since yesterday, and I, like everyone else, thought they’d have been done with it yesterday, but it looks like they’re continuing it well into the next day (being today). And they were doing it with regular intervals of about a couple minutes in-between up until midway through, alright, and they were going in geographic order until they decided to stop the pattern ////right//// before my state was due, and now I have no idea whether I should be looking out for the next post, or the one after, or the one after. Nor do I know when.

Not to be dramatic, but this could very well be one of the most torturous experiences I have ever had the misfortune to be put through. But hey, it’ll all have been worth it if I see my name on the list, wouldn’t it? 

(If.)

On a happier note, I may be heading out later tonight am heading out later tonight to catch a free screening of The Killing of a Sacred Deer--Lanthimos movie. I’ve been meaning to see The Lobster for a while--a moment of silence for all the poor, unwatched movies on my watchlist on Letterboxd, all steadily collecting metaphysical dust--but I’ve just never gotten around to it. Shame, too, it was showing last night, but I only found out about this place this very afternoon. (Thank you, Facebook.)

So a lot has happened since I saved this as a draft and got up to once again face the real world, interrupting my train of thought mid-blog against my will--some errands were run, dinner was made (bolognese, and over some 10 pages of my book, of course), and very spontaneous plans were agreed to (hence the strikethrough of the maybe earlier). I met with an old friend for some catch-up over the movie. (The power of Instagram stories and a simple-but-effective ‘someone teman pls’, right?)

I'm writing this now from a front-row sofa in a quaint little top-floor bar, projector ahead of me and warm bowl of popcorn ready, a hidden gem among shoplots in the midst of Taman Desa, and it is 8:47 PM. Free screenings every Friday and Saturday? Needless to say, I'm certainly coming back. In time as a regular, I hope. (They even played Kubrick the other night--The Shining!)

The movie starts in 4 minutes. Expect a review soon.

What I'm listening to (courtesy of the bar's playlist): okay, no song today. I tried to get Adam to Shazam what was playing, but no luck--nothing came up. (And I forgot to ask about a playlist on spotify on my way out I am a FOOL next show!)

[thegentjimmy]

DJing, performing and loneliness.

I’ve been meaning to write something about this for a few weeks now. Firstly when I started to feel a little depressed again after months of feeling refreshed and reinvigorated. Secondly, after Avicii died and when a lot of my friends dismissed the situation stating “Oh well, his music was shit anyway.” And finally, during mental health awareness week, when I saw loads of people lighting up my social media, the news, and the world with positive messages that it is ok to feel empty, lost and hopeless sometimes, which is important to hear, even if it does start to sometimes get a little repetitive, acceptance is key - and it seems the world has begun to embrace mental health and the benefits of discussing it and being aware of taking care of our mental well-being in our daily lives. 

I’m here to talk about the darker side of my experiences within my job, a job which I love to bits. I get to play music in various forms for a living and I could not be more thankful that this and this alone, mostly pays for my electricity and food and rent. Although it’s not been an easy path, or a quick one - and the route to this situation has been dogged with difficult scenarios, the most difficult of all, constant loneliness. 

When I began DJing I didn’t even consider how much solitude and isolation I was entering myself into. I just loved music. My first residency was at a bar called SOYO in Sheffield - where I would play for 4 or 5 hours on a Sunday night. I’d spend hours all day picking out music for the evening, working on my mixes, downloading, researching, picking through old CD’s and vinyl in every charity shop I could find trying to ensure that my sets were interesting and varied every time - although it often didn’t matter because unless a big group of my friends came down to see me play (which they did quite regularly and I can never thank them enough for that) I would just have the general public mouthing off in my ear about playing more Rihanna and turning my shit soul music off. 

The flyer for my first ever DJ residency. 

My first night at SOYO playing “Mixtape” - I bought all these cassettes for about 5p each in a charity shop and carried them in every week for decoration.

I was also working a “normal” job at the time, in a hotel as a waiter and bar tender. I was offered a second DJ residency and quickly worked out the sums, in two DJ gigs per week, I would be earning more than I would for working 30 hours at the hotel. I took great pleasure in telling my bosses to fuck off on a particularly stretched evening where I was clicked at by a man who hosted celebrity dinners, the particular celebrity this evening was Trigger from Only Fools And Horses. He wanted more champagne. I wanted him to get shat on by a flock of seagulls (the band or a load of angry sea birds) Deciding that was probably not going to happen inside a 3 star hotel, I walked out instead. 

Practicing mixes whilst my housemates and I prepared for a night out on the town, no doubt a few beers in. Ironing board was a great DJ booth.

That was the second to last time that I worked as part of a “team” (there’s no ‘I’ in team, but there is an ‘I’ in ‘isolation’) and I’ve only just realised that now, writing this. I threw myself into solitude at work. Not only would I be spending long hours behind the decks picking out records (a lot of which I hated) to try and encourage people to have a good time, slowly honing my craft, earning my stripes - as they say, I would also be on my own during a lot of the day, picking out music for future gigs, emailing people to try and get work, practicing mixes, recording mixes, over and over again to try and prove that I was good enough, chasing up payments that had been promised but never delivered, all the while learning about music history, keeping up with current trends, emerging trends, reading about popular music in all its forms since the pirate radio days of the late 60′s - to 90′s rave and 00′s boy bands, really just attempting to diversify myself as a music collector and human - whilst most of my other friends were at work. And when my friends finished work and invited me out for a pint, for a birthday meal, round to their house to watch a film, or out on a date, I was busy working as many days as I could to make a living doing something that I absolutely adored. And gradually, the invitations stopped coming. And I didn’t even notice. I was obsessed with making playing music, my job. And going out after I finished my job with people that worked in bars and getting pissed because I was so desperate for human interaction. Sadly, a lot of these situations I can’t even remember. There could have been some great ideas discussed, but in all honesty, there probably wasn’t! 

My friend Ben travelled back to the UK from New Zealand. It was the first time I had seen him in 5 years, and I was obviously working. He bought us double rums all night. I was very ill the next morning. 

Playing the backroom at Replica, Sheffield. My remit was “Dubstep and Electro - cooler more underground music.” I was probably playing 50 Cent - Ayo Technology instead.

There was a point around 5 years ago, when I DJ’d every single day for 3 months straight. And because back then I was only just starting out, most of the gigs I did for free or for very little money. I didn’t have time to go and see my friends. I barely saw my housemates, although we did have some incredibly special moments during those years. Then, I took a job teaching - working in a small team of wonderful individuals and my entire outlook on everything changed. I was happier and fulfilled and I didn’t know why. I wasn’t feeling distant as much, even though this was only a temp job and it paid barely enough to afford food for the week. The interactions with other human beings were worth more than the £50 a shift, more invigorating to my happiness than a big bag of chips and a can of dandelion & burdock. 

With the Clothes Line gang - a few Red Stripes in, having a cuddle. 

I left Sheffield in 2014 and then my troubles really began. Now living in Leeds, I was short on work there, so travelled back to Sheffield regularly on the M1, via trains, on the National Express - usually alone. I would then DJ alone, for upwards of 5 hours, and then return home, where I would sleep - wake up alone, spend all day alone as my then girlfriend went to work, finding music, chasing gigs - mind constantly whirring, rarely allowing myself time to see friends, to see family or to relax - there were bills to pay and music was the only way I was going to pay them - and I would make it work. 

Playing indie bangers at Bumper in Liverpool - I caught the train and after the venue closed at 5am, I waited until 8am for the first train home sat on the steps outside Lime St Station. 

I fell into the worst part of my depression after the collapse of two relationships in quick succession - left alone to stew and process that heartbreak and misery for many hours a day as well as the usual non-stop work, travel, work, travel to work, travel work, work and non-stop work, that no-one even noticed that I wasn’t ok, because they were so used to not hearing from me. The assumption was (and still is in many cases) that I was that “funny guy” on their Facebook, that made them laugh or dance when they saw me (probably constantly drunk at this point, because I was absolutely fucking miserable) and not the guy that spent hours and hours on end in bed all day cry-laughing at himself for being a fucking hopeless loser and focussing on all the wrong things in a constant downward spiral of epic proportions. 

First ever designated dressing room at The Leadmill in Sheffield. 

A wonderful doctor friend of mine, Sarah, recognised I was depressed and encouraged me to visit my GP. I was in the GP for all of ten seconds, before I was dismissed with the NHS depression helpline number and told “It’s about a 6 month wait if you want to talk to someone.” Sarah then took it upon herself to ring me every day, even if it was just for 5 minutes - she’s a true credit to the NHS, her profession and a fucking good mate. She rang me every single day, without fail. She encouraged me to form a focus - and I decided to relocate to Manchester for a fresh start and new challenge. 

I’ve since had further help, a course of counselling at which my counsellors immediate opening gambit, when I told her how I was feeling and that I didn’t know why, was to say “Well it sounds like you’re a little bit lonely.” Things clicked pretty fast after that and I realised how important it was to make time to see your loved ones, the very thing I had been missing out on for years. 

Solitary figure playing music after our final year films had been screened at university. Palmed my own Dad off on my friends so I could play music most of the night. 

I’ve spoken to very few musicians, performers and even photographers/videographers/cruise ship dancers/fridge repair technicians that haven’t told me that at some point during their career they’ve not felt lonely - it goes with the territory of being self-employed or working in the arts/entertainment industry. It’s all “smiles for the gram” then smashing in a fucking gram, to forget that you’re fucking miserable and sat on your own most of the time, scrolling through your phone hoping that someone, anyone messages you with a better offer than “do you fancy sitting on the sofa in your pants going over your setlist for tonight again whilst simultaneously listening to 18 shit house remixes of the latest shit house record that you don’t really like but they’re hammering it on daytime radio so you probably better download it - just incase.” 

I’ve started interacting with my DJ pals more and more over the last year or so - and also the bar staff and managers in venues that I work in. Human interaction is hugely important and DJing/photographing/playing live music in bars and clubs can be a very negative environment, particularly when the general public often leave their manners at the door, or on the toilet floor after they’ve smashed in a few lines/tequilas. There’s a whole heap of rejection, huge highs that come out of the blue and big lows that shake you to your core, financially and emotionally - losing gigs sucks, being skint sucks, your favourite venues being forced to close down sucks, realising you’re too old to understand why students like certain songs sucks, being constantly berated and belittled as you just try to do your job on a Saturday night, by drunken wankers that apparently know more about music and the performing of music than you do, yet somehow, they appear to not have been booked to play this particular weekend SUCKS, being used as a cloakroom sucks, having beer spilled all over the thousands of pounds worth of equipment you’ve scrimped and saved for over the years and all over your favourite t-shirt DOUBLY SUCKS and walking out of a bar or club hoping that you’ve done a good job but not really being sure and having to then drive 3 hours home, on your own, via motorway closures, speed restrictions and road kill generally fucking sucks. But you can’t do anything else once that love has gripped you. You will play music until you die, until you breathe your last breath of grotty smoke machine fluid, get your last electric shock from a terrible bashed in plug socket in whatever bashed in, held together with sellotape club/bar you are playing in on the night and float off into the big DJ heaven in the sky, where there is a big sign saying “No morons, no requests, just 100% good music.” It’s in our blood. 

DJing is better with mates. Me and the Clothes Line gang at The Harley, the night we found out that we had been nominated for an exposed award. 

I’ve also found things that help to combat my loneliness at work, and the best ones are as follows. Having a group chat via social media with other DJ’s/Musicians that are working at the same time as you - sending jokes and laughing at other people’s shit requests in a group is wonderful. We also have socials where we all meet in person and laugh at people and their shit requests. And all the DJ in-jokes come out and we sit and make snide remarks like a bunch of gassed up Beyonce’s. Taking time off from weekend gigs, to socialise with friends, family and my amazing supportive and understanding girlfriend (DJ Widow Numero Uno and the best thing that ever happened to me) - I now try and plan my calendar a few weeks/months in advance so I can book these occasions in. Plus it gives you something to look forward to on the weekends/whatever other anti-social hours you are working. Taking time to try and engage with the public when they’re making requests (to a certain extent - I don’t let people take the piss!) cos as before, human interaction (even with drunk strangers that want you to play Cotton Eye Joe because it’s Sharon’s birthday and she’s 45) = Hugely important. 

The SXC Bois DJ massive on a social in Manchester.

Also I’ve very much enjoyed collaborating during music making, or music playing once or twice a month, so I’m not just sat on my own making weird pop music in our back bedroom. Most importantly, taking a bit of time away from music (although it is the second most important thing in my entire life) to engage in other activities. If you’re like me and your entire focus is on one thing and it engulfs your entire existence, it can become a bit exhausting, particularly for your friends who really, REALLY don’t care who you think the next best UK underground trip-hop swing crossover band are going to be, they just don’t care. They want to talk about the football. Go and watch the football. Music/work will be waiting when you get back. 

Collaborating with Duncan Vaughan, performing as Klixz for the first time, February 2018, at The Tuesday Club, Sheffield. 

The invitations aren’t flying in thick and fast, but I think that some of my closer friends have now started to realise that I’m not just constantly busy these days and I do want to see them and socialise and have fun. I always have, I just didn’t make them aware of it very well. And life is busy and sometimes things get in the way of hanging out with one another, but laughing at inappropriate jokes with good friends over a decent cup of tea will always make me happier than playing Darude - Sandstorm to a festival crowd of 2,000 people adorned with glowsticks. Well, it’s kind of 50/50 actually. But you can do both, on the same day, if you’re really clever. 

I hope this advice helps someone, even if it just makes you chuckle thinking about me hiding under my duvet severely depressing having a cry whilst at the same time laughing myself for how pathetic I am. Whether you’re just starting out or years into a career in music - loneliness is a real issue in the music industry and beyond - as if a constant fear of inadequacy, perfectionism, constant rejection, living hand to mouth, threat of going deaf and never being able to hear music again, venues closing and your car insurance premiums rising through the roof isn’t enough to send you over the edge, add in total unabridged loneliness to the bundle and you’ve got an unhappy sandwich soaked in misery dripping right there. But you don’t have to eat it. You always have a choice. 

Fuck loneliness. 

Your pal, 

Jimmy x

Useful links: 

24/7 helpline for musicians suffering with mental health issues:

https://www.musicmindsmatter.org.uk/

Musician meetup - if you’re in a new area and looking for someone to natter about Lou Reed and do a bit of jamming with:

https://www.meetup.com/topics/musicians/?_cookie-check=UiZDil7HvilO41v0

Musician’s Union - fighting for better lives for musicians everyday and a whole host of other useful links and help: 

https://www.musiciansunion.org.uk/

The Samaritans - free phone number 116123 (UK)

https://www.samaritans.org/how-we-can-help-you/contact-us?gclid=Cj0KCQjwxtPYBRD6ARIsAKs1XJ5sL3-1_5YZp5YtWVhvwwnPIWkzdNs4rqLCMML72ZB6es__6mne5IsaAjnfEALw_wcB

Thanks for reading! <3 

[lindoig8]

Friday to Monday, 13-16 August

Friday

Black Friday – but we never realised it until at least a week later.

Another day of basically driving up the highway – 300 kilometres yesterday, 370 today – it’s a Big Country. But every little ‘town’ (tiny settlement) has its own claim to fame and they are very proud of it. Aileron has some giant statues – anatomically correct male and female aboriginal figures set several hundred metres apart. Wycliffe Well claims to be the Australian Capital for UFOs and has a few cheesy models of a flying saucer, an alien and so on along the road.

More believable are the Devil’s Marbles (has he lost his marbles?), a few kilometres of huge rounded boulders that really are impressive – although in my opinion, they are rivalled by those at Tower Hill that we visited out of Gemtree a few months ago. At least Tower Hill wasn’t crawling with tourists – literally hundreds at the Devil’s Marbles. We gave up trying to find a place to stop for just a few minutes in the massive carpark so had to take our long-range photos from the main road.

We had another bush camp off the side of the highway, just far enough away not to be bothered by the traffic barrelling past. In the past few days, I have managed to inflict numerous cuts and nicks on my hands and the dry dusty conditions have created several cracks in my skin too and it is becoming painful, if not too difficult, to do a lot of our daily tasks. I am moisturising my hands and we must have used a full packet of Bandaids trying to protect my poor hands but we still have to do things and the Bandaids keep coming off and needing replacement. Just holding onto the steering wheel has been a minor challenge, much worse all the things necessary to set up the van and do the dishes and all the other things that require dexterous fingers and thumbs. But I am sure that I will be back to normal in a few days.

Saturday – Monday

We continued north on the Highway but stopped at Tennant Creek for at least an hour to complete all the BS required for our WA border passes. It was further complicated because you have to tell them where you will self-isolate in WA and it took numerous phone calls to make a booking and pay the required deposit to enable us to complete our applications. The amount of data we had to provide on the app was simply gross overkill – and access to their site is terrible. (For the first time, I understood how the conspiracy theorists might have come up with the idea that governments are using Covid to capture huge swathes of data about us that they couldn't get by other means.)

We continued on to Dunmarra where we stopped briefly to download our email and send a few others – and found that our border passes had been rejected. We eventually figured out why (there is no possible way to contact the authorities to ask anything – you just have to use their app and wait to see what happens). The whole process is designed to make it as hard as possible to comply. Heather submitted a new application and got approved, but mine was much more difficult. Every time (at least 6 times) I completed all the information they demand, I got to the end of the process only for the Captcha box to fail to appear – and you can’t submit it until it does. Another wasted hour or so, but it eventually appeared and mine was approved as well.

We also got an email advising that our Exmouth/Ningaloo adventure was cancelled because the tour organisers were unable to get out of the Northern Territory due to the sudden lockdown up here. We heard that our originally-planned Fossil Dig in Lightning Ridge did not go ahead due to the regional spread in New South Wales so that confirmed the wisdom of our decision to pull out of that a few weeks ago – but now our remaining anchor for this trip has gone up in smoke. All the routes we have taken, the activities we have done or not done, the decisions we have taken, the things that we have manipulated over the past several months to ensure we would be able to do the Exmouth expedition have gone for nought and we have to start from scratch in planning the rest of our travels. We will continue to enjoy our travels, but Plan Z disappeared into the ether weeks ago and I am not sure how to code our future travel plans.

We then headed a short distance further up the highway to the junction with the iconic Buchanan Highway that we intended taking to Top Springs and Timber Creek. But at Dunmarra, we had learned of yet another lockdown, restricted to Darwin and Katherine (so more than 400 kilometres from us), but occasioning a change to our entry permit to Western Australia. Immediately we cross the order, we have to get tested and self-isolate until we get the results, and we felt there was a risk of an extension to the lockdown or further restrictions to entering WA if the virus spread in the Northern Territory. We decided we had to stay away from any town – not even stop for fuel – and we would probably need at least 3 bush camps before we could cross the border. This meant we needed more generator fuel than we were carrying so after 20-odd kilometres, we turned around and back-tracked to Dunmarra for more petrol. Then we decided that, despite the need to avoid people, we would spend the night at Dunmarra – and as it turned out, we stayed there three nights. It was a really lovely place and I enjoyed the many birds surrounding us, perhaps the most surprising species being the Red-tailed Black-Cockatoos – I reckon there were at least 150 in the flock.

I enjoyed the birds, Heather enjoyed the pool – small but refreshing, just a bit too cold for me. On Monday, we ate dinner in the Roadhouse – we shared a seafood basket and some rissoles, both with lots of sides – easily enough for 4 people, but we made the sacrifice and consumed most of it.

It was a very relaxing and enjoyable stopover, pretty hot, but a good opportunity to catch up on a few things (Heather cooked four of her delectable tins of fruit cake!)

One thing that fascinates (and annoys) me is the number of people travelling with dogs – and very often, not just one – there were four big brutes in one car at Dunmarra, and I think they were travelling with another car with three dogs. They are often off-leash just roaming the camp-ground, sniffing around and doing their business on other people’s sites and nobody seems to try to quieten their mutts’ incessant yapping. I know I am seen essentially as an evil person because I am not a dog-lover, but even if I was, there are still limits to one’s patience.

[kingfallshistoricallibrary-blog]

Episode Nine - Jack in the Box Jesus

Mayor: Ladies and gentlemen, I promise you that while it is a terrible inconvenience that our modern electronics are out, this is not the end of the world. It could be a refreshing change of pace! Instead of reading on your tablet go down to the King Falls library and check out the real thing! And instead of texting your BFF go enjoy some pancake puppies at Rose’s and have a face-to-face chat.This isn’t as bad as it seems and it could be a blessing in disguise. [intro] Sammy: Good morning guys and dolls, you’re listening to King Falls AM Ben: That’s 660 on the radio dial. Sammy: and this is day 13 of what has been dubbed the King Falls electrolocaust. Ben: This has easily been the hardest two weeks of my professional career. Sammy: It has been tough, but Ben and I want to thank you and everyone out there listening for the continuing support of the show. Ben: We got another doozy of a show for you tonight King Falls. During our two we’ll be interviewing Maria Chandler, manager of the King Falls Apple store, and speaking about the effects that shut down this (?) business. Sammy: MMYAs well as fielding your calls and talking about whatever’s clever this evening. Ben: I miss computers, Sammy. I miss the schedule, our automated systems, my alarm clock. I’ve went through three the legal pads in two weeks! Sammy: I know, buddy. Ben: I would literally watch channel 13 if given the chance. Sammy: Wow. That’s saying a lot. Ben: I need my life back. Sammy: King Falls, how are you taking the modern electronic shut down of 2015? Are you refreshed? Reliving the mid-90s? Or are you falling apart like our dear Ben Arnold? Ben: I’d listen to boy bands to have a working smartphone. I’d wear, puka shell necklaces and sell my pod collection if you give me five minutes with my email. Sammy: Look on the bright side, Ben. You’re spending all your free time down the library, and I haven’t called you out on it, Ben: That’s calling me out on it. Sammy: Well, and you know it’s nice hearing the birds tweeting instead of @ king falls a.m., I’m not saying I don’t miss it but I’m enjoying this a little bit. Ben: It’s tearing up my heart when I’m with you

Sammy: The references are not gonna bring back your goods. Ben: Dammit Sammy, let’s just take a call from our jury-rigged phone system. Sammy: You’re live with Sammy and Ben. Cynthia: Yeah, I wanna talk about the outages. Sammy: Cynthia Higgenbaum ladies and gents. How are you doing during this electronic crisis? Cynthia: I feel the warm embrace of the chastity belt that’s been placed on society. I’m relieved, de-stressed, marvelous. Ben: Whoa, that’s, that’s a heck of a change. Cynthia: What are you trying to say, Ben? Sammy: It’s just usually- you’ve been a little.. pessimistic in the past. Cynthia: Oh, I still have problems; I’m full up with issues. But right now, I don’t have to worry about what websites my husband is pursuing, what brain-dead TV my kids are watching, I’m at peace. It’s just me and my harlequin novels. Plus with Jesus back in all- Ben: 50 shades of Cynthia Cynthia: Don’t be filthy Ben Arnold! I know your mother! Sammy: I’m sorry Cynthia, did you just say that Jesus is back? Cynthia: Have you guys not heard the news? Ben Is she talking about Jesus Jesus? Cynthia: There’s only one. Sammy: Well, I think Mexico would disagree but please tell us why you think Jesus is- Cynthia: I don’t think Sammy I know! Earlier this evening, he was spotted glowing and speaking in tongues at Jack In The Box. Ben: The one off Main Street or Red Oak Avenue? Cynthia: Ew, nobody does to Red Oak. Sammy: Jack In The Box Jesus. Cynthia: Oh, hell no! I will not participate in that blasphemy. You’re gonna get smited- Sammy: Oh, I mean, I wasn’t- I’m sorry, I’m not meaning to- Cynthia: Tell it to Satan, In hell, Sammy! [hangs up] Ben: Woah, this is big. Sammy: If you or someone you know has had a sighting of Jack In The Box Jesus please give us a call. 424-279-3858 Ben: You’re on King Falls AM. Troy: Now I know what you’re thinking: how could the second coming of God’s only son happen and ol’ Troy here didn’t clue you in. Ben: Not what I was thinking. Sammy: What do you know Troy? Troy: Well I got a suspicious persons call out at ol’ Jack in the Box around 9, So I hit the lights and cruised over to see what the fuss was about. And lo and behold, back by the dumpster with a mess of people looking on, there he was. Sammy: Now are you really telling us that you saw, or, you believe you saw the son of God and the King of Kings banging outside the Jack In The Box? Troy: Well, he was a man, somebody’s son no doubt. Bearded, good looking, if you are into that sort of thing. He had a robe on- Ben: We can solve this right now. Was he white or was he black? Troy: He was more of a greenish color. Like a glow really. Sammy: The man had an aura around him. Troy: It was shinier than the damn Fukushima foxhound fellas. Like I felt a need to put on the old aviators, but I didn’t want to be cliché. Sammy: Alright, Troy. So, work with us here you’re in the back of the Jack In The Box, there’s a uh, Jesus type guy. Troy: Just-a-ramblin’ on. Ben: Speaking in tongues? Troy: Speaking in something. The last time I heard gibberish like that was comin’ from the back of my Chevy with Shell Snider’s daughter. Sammy: So what happened next? Troy: Well a group of lucky-loos had descended as I said and since it was only me, there was no perimeter set up yet. So I started ta approach this glowing Christ and somebody, Roy Higgens if you gotta know, hollered out ‘it’s Jesus!’ and the whole parking lot just went bonkers! Ben: Well, did you speak to the guy? Troy: Damn skippy. I told Roy that this was official police biz, And he shouldn’t be squawking around like a little baby. Ben: No, Jack in the box Jesus. Troy: Oh, well no. I turned around and he was gone. Split right off into the woods I suspect. Sammy: Did you follow him? Troy: Sammy, so you’re telling me that you’d follow a 6 foot tall and glowing perp into the woods? Sammy: Point taken. Ben: So any other sightings? Troy: Well, not as of yet. But there were so many people they could have had a revival in that parkin’ lot. So I’m guessin’ that’s how word spread so quickly. And without internet too? That’s pretty damn impressive. Sammy: Is there an APB out or anything? Troy: For what, dilly-dallying around with a jumbo jack? He wasn’t doin nothin bad, just acting a fool, Lord forgive me, where he shouldn’t have been. Ben: And glowing. Troy: That’s right. Sammy: Well, please let us know if get any more info on this Troy, we’d appreciate it. Troy: You bet, I’ll be sure to keep you boys in the listen and the public informed. But if you should happen to stumble upon Jesus, do not approach, bother or pester. Just call up ol’ deputy Troy. [hangs up] Ben: ..or your local church. Sammy: Deputy Troy ladies and gents. Now we’re just going to take a quick break and hear from one of our new sponsors: Carl’s Candy. Ben: Yeah I don- I don’t think we should play this Sammy: What? Ads pay the bills remember? Ben: Folks, as a work around with all the tech issues, I went out and recorded a few spots of some of our sponsors, new and old. Emphasis on old after this one. Sammy: Ok so the audio is bad. Ben: You could say that. Sammy: This company’s paid up, they’re scheduled in one of your many notebooks let’s do this. We’ll be right back folks. [ad] Carl: Do you know why they call it a blow pop? I sure do. And if you come on down to Creepy Carl’s Candy, I’ll fill ya up! I mean in, it’ll be our little secret. A sweet tooth is a terrible thing to waste, come find a new sugar daddy to butter your fingers at Creepy Carl’s! Come in and grab a sack of Carl’s Boston baked beans while you’re at it. Oops, one fell in my pocket. Free if you can find it. Every child’s welcome at Creepy Carl’s, big mouths, small mouths, white mouths and brown mouths. We’re equal opportunity! And just because they shut down the ol’ brick and mortar doesn’t mean you can’t buy it from my van. Be sure to ask your parent’s permission first, kids. Creepy Carl’s Candy, where the suckers don’t suck themselves. [Police sirens] Troy: Carl, turn off your ignition. You are too close to the school zone. Carl: I gotta go, catch ya later

??: The mic! [End] Sammy: Never again. Ben: I tried to tell you. Sammy: I know. Let’s never speak about this. Ben: I need a shower. Sammy: Moving forward, we were just talking about a sighting that happened a few hours ago around the 9 o’clock hour just off main street. It seems quite a few people believe that we may be experiencing a religious phenomenon. Perhaps the second coming of– Ben: Don’t call it a comeback, I’ve been here for years! Sammy: Right, let’s go to the phone lines. Ben: That was good though right? Sammy: It was good. Good evening, you are live on King Falls AM. Reverend: Ask and you shall receive. King Falls-uh. It is the good Reverend Xavier “Right with God-uh” Hawthorne. Ben: Reverend Hawthorne? Are you back in town? Reverend: The one and only, and we are turnin’ the wagons around as we speak. And we’re heading back to my flock. How’re y’all feelin’ tonight, King Falls? I said How are you, feelin’! Sammy: We’re feeling alright. REVEREND HAWTHORN   Praise God-uh! Hallelujah! Now a little birdie, just chirp’n on my shoulder, told me there was a sighting. A vision. Dare I say it, eyeballs were laid on our Lord and Saviour at a burger joint in our fair city. Sammy: Yeah, about 9 o’clock here. Reverend: Could it be-uh, that our 5 week revival worked. Could it be-uh that our prayers have been brought forth the lamb of God-uh. Can I get an amen! Ben: Reverend Hawthorne w- Reverend: Amen! This miracle-uh, this sight from our God-uh, perched on a mountain of sanctity, says that he is ready to lead-uh, his most highly favored congregation back to the promised land. Have me some organ Deacon Reggie [organ music begins playing in the background] Sammy: Do you think Reggie has to wheel that thing around just in case? Ben: This is getting good. Reverend: Play it dirty brother. We are going home-uh. Take us back to Calvary, take us BACK-uh! Samuel, Benjamin may I ask you gentlemen if you have a relationship-uh with the Author of the eternal salvation; are you saved? Sammy: I’m- Reverend: The let me tell y’all, because if you aren’t-uh, I’m coming back to town, one weekend only, the Xavier “Right with God-uh” Hawthorne Experience will be wheelin’ back into King Falls Fairgrounds this very night-uh. We are hoping to get one-on-one with the Risen Christ and start preparing for Kingdom Come. But just like old Xavier, you gotta come on down-uh so we can get you turnt up with God-uh. [hangs up] Sammy: Xavier? Hello? Ben: He’s, gone. Sammy. Sammy: Well, you heard it here first folks Xavier Hawthorn’s Travelling Roadshow is coming back to town. Will Jack In The Box Jesus make his stage debut? Ben: Jesus. Sammy: Literally. Ben: Do you think we can get an interview? Would it be Mr. Christ? Or- Sammy: Something tells me that there is something more to the story than what we’ve heard so far, Ben. Ben: I get that, but this is King Falls, Sammy. Sammy: What a perfect place to make a return, a rinky-dink town with no internet. Ben: Line -dammit, there’s only one line. Uh, you’re on with Sammy and Ben. Archie: Good evenin’ fellas! Sammy: Is thi- Archie: It’s Archie Simmons! Ben: Hey Archie, how’s Princess Von Barktooth? Archie: Well, I do have news concerning the princess, and I just want to possibly recant some info from our previous call a few weeks back. Sammy: About the werewolves? Archie: Correct. Sammy: Wow, I mean you sounded pretty convinced that you saw a werewolf. Archie: And now I’m saying that maybe I was misinformed. Sammy: I think you should probably tell Troy and the Sheriff’s Office, Archie. Archie: You silly sally, Troy’s already on his way over now Ben: Why the change of heart Archie? Archie: Well, new information has come to light boys, I mean with the Divine One making his triumphant, let’s be honest, dramatic return to King Falls.

Sammy: You’re talking about the glowing man at the Jack In The Box? Archie: Let’s be real here, it’s the J-Man, of course a heavenly carpenter would pick King Falls. So many projects to keep busy with. Sammy: Uh-huh. Archie: Plus with the princess and this new information, we have to believe this. Ben: You keep saying that, what’s going on with the princess Archie? Archie: She’s in a delicate condition. Sammy: Oh, well of course. I mean she’s been through a lot. Archie: No Sammy, I mean that she is with child. Children. Puppies? There’s a bun in the $2400 oven boys! Sammy: Wait, she’s pregnant? From the werewolf attack? Archie: Well, that’s the thing, while I believed in my heart of hearts that the hillbilly beast from the trailer park had gotten to the princess, I think.. Ben: What, what do you think Archie? Archie: I mean it was dark, I know it was a full moon but I was scared and recently awakened, sleep in my eyes etc. and so on. Sammy: You don’t think it was the werewolves. Archie: I’m thinking with this new evidence and the fact that I saw a long-haired bearded man in the biblical act, yeah I think there’s a chance it could have been [whispering] the man upstairs. Ben: Upstairs from whom? Archie: Mankind! Come on Ben get with the preacher. Sammy: He’s saying that because there’s been a holy sighting tonight, which we should all be a little bit doubtful of, then maybe it wasn’t the werewolves, but the Alpha and the Omega. Ben: No! NO WA- That’s too much, Archie. You saw the werewolf. He looked you in the eye and howled at the moon. Archie: I don’t know what kind of weird things Jesus is into. Ben: No way. This is ludicrous. Archie: You just wait and see Ben. Princess may have lost her Westminster dream, all part of God’s plan. Ben: We’ve got to go Archie [laughs] you’re crossing a line that we cannot cross at King Falls AM. Archie: Judge not, lest ye be judged boys. Kardashians 3:16 or a Psalm or something. I think Troy’s coming around the bend anyways boys, laters! [Hangs up] Sammy: You know when I walk in the door every night I say to myself, ‘Nothing’s going to surprise me tonight’ And more times than not, I am just dead wrong. Ben: Let’s give the phone a rest for a moment, Sammy the record player is just begging to be used.

Sammy: Not a bad idea Ben. [notification sound] Ben: What? Oh my phone! [many notifications] Oh it’s back baby! Sammy: Me too! What’s going on? Ben: What’s up! Oh my God, I could literally kiss the apparition of Steve Jobs. Sammy: Hey, I’ve got a text here, unknown number. Ben: Ok, what does it say? Sammy: I know why this happened, I know how to stop it, we need to talk Ben: What? Sammy: No, that’s what the text said. Ben: You don’t think this has anything to do with.. Thank you, Jesus. [credit music plays]

[blessed-but-distressed]

#FindEmmaSwanAFriend

Feeling left behind by her more successful, settled friends, Emma Swan moves to Scotland on a whim. Sure, she’s winning at Instagram, but something is still missing from her new life. Fortunately, her friends back home are on it. #FindEmmaSwanAFriend goes viral. Enter Killian Jones, reluctant columnist, who is on the hunt for his newest subject, and may just have found her. CS AU.

also on ff.net

Tagging:  @katie-dub, @wholockgal, @kat2609, @whovianlunatic, @optomisticgirl, @ladyciaramiggles, @the-lady-of-misthaven, @emmaswanchoosesyou, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @cigarettes-and-scotch-whisky, @biancaros3, @ms-babs-gordon, @ab-normality, @andiirivera, @fangirl-till-it-hurts, @onceuponaprincessworld, @chocolatecrackle.

This chapter was a mess for so long, so big thanks to @wholockgal for helping me try to whip her into shape, and @lenfaz for always listening to my writing-related whining.

Emma

The next person who emails me asking for an extension on an assignment they’ve had ALL SEMESTER to do, I’m straight up murdering. ES

I think that’s what they call premeditation, Swan. KJ

There are 33 emails in my inbox right now asking for last minute extensions. 33! Justifiable homicide. ES

33? You’re quite right. Not a jury in the land would convict you. KJ

… This is the part where you chime in with your own work horror story, so I can see I’m being irrational. ES

Is it? As you wish. I just thought seriously about poisoning our illiterate sub-editor with expired milk I found in the darkest recesses of the break room fridge. All because she used a Daily Mail-worthy pun as a headline for one of my articles. And I might’ve done, if the work experience kid hadn’t just used up the last of it for his Ovaltine. KJ

Oh god. Is he okay? ES

For the moment. Looking a bit green around the gills though. I’ve a bet going with the Pictures Editor he won’t make it til lunchtime. KJ

Okay, so not exactly what I was going for, and yet, I feel strangely less like a monster. You, on the other hand, might want to get that kid to a doctor. And/or book yourself in for a refresher for that workplace sensitivity training seminar. ES

According to Liam, there isn’t an opening for six months. Believe me, he checked. KJ

Of course he did. So... 6 hours til happy hour at the Jingles. You in? ES

Oh? Are you buying? KJ

The first round, sure. But only if you promise me it’ll be an early night. I have 203 final assessments to grade. I DO NOT have time to be hungover. ES

Your proposal is acceptable. KJ

Emma saw the poster on the last official teaching day before Reading Week, tacked to the pinboard outside her office. Poorly formatted, and clearly the work of someone with little to no design ability, it nevertheless managed to stop her in her tracks.

End of Academic Year Staff Party

LASER TAG

School of Classics, Archaeology & History VS School of Social & Political Science

Has it ever rankled to be told we produce “Mickey Mouse” degrees? Have you ever been made to feel that your knowledge of Classic Greek literature was “too highbrow” to be relevant in today’s job market? Ever run afoul of Tracy from Social Anthro in the Library Cafe?

Here’s your chance to get your own back! Sign ups below.

Emma could feel something building in her gut. Something unpleasant and inevitable. Something like picturing herself strapped into a cheap plastic breastplate sometime in the near future.

Killian was going to have a field day.

Or, she thought he might, if she could just dig herself out from under the pile of term papers she needed to grade long enough to set up a meet with him.

It figured that all of the empty space in Emma’s schedule would evaporate just as soon as the weather turned. Living under so many layers for so long, Emma had almost forgotten the sun was supposed to have any real warming ability at all. But suddenly, just as the semester was drawing to a close, it re-appeared with a vengeance, and the city was utterly transformed.

Gone were the puffer jackets and tights, the Gore-Tex and the ugly sweaters Emma had long considered to be the unofficial national uniform. Instead the sidewalks became filled with pasty-limbed people displaying their newly liberated flesh with the kind of exhibitionist zeal Emma hadn’t seen since her first Spring Break trip to Florida.

She nearly tripped over a few as they lay sunning themselves out on the Meadows, oblivious to her sweaty, breathless approach. Not to mention the ten or so pubs she had to avoid on her walk home from work, the pavements outside bursting with mismatched outdoor furniture someone had scrounged up in a hurry. All of them packed with sun-worshippers in the most reptilian tradition, and none of them alone.

Who were these people? Emma wondered. Drinking Magners mid-afternoon and stripped down to the barest essentials, always an audience for their bawdy jokes. Where had they all materialized from? Didn’t they have jobs to go to?

In contrast, Emma’s apartment remained completely ignorant of the change in seasons, still cold as a morgue. Her south-facing windows not only had a great view of the brick wall opposite, but they also brought in precisely zero natural light.

It really was a shitty apartment.

And if she had to spend any more time cooped up in it, alone, wrapped in three sweaters while she read circuitous papers in defence of Andrew Jackson, she was going to go crazy.

She had to get out.

She discovered it by accident, really, one day last November when she’d been caught in a surprise hailstorm, and looking for somewhere warm and dry to scarf down the rest of her Greggs donut. Her office-mate had office hours, and the University library stacks were always too crowded with clueless undergrads or amorous couples looking for privacy.

But the City Library? There were whole floors where the only ones around were harmless old biddies working on their genealogies, and their peripheral vision wasn’t the greatest. It was the perfect place to devour a forbidden pastry, or wait out a hailstorm or two. Or run into the very Englishman you’d been meaning to text back.

Emma liked the Reference Library best. It looked kind the kind of thing a fairy tale Beast might gift to a reluctant new house guest to win her over: floor-to-ceiling shelves lining every wall, supported by cast iron balustrades reachable by spiral staircases, an imposing geometric dome that looked like it came right out of Versailles. For the nerds, original card indicies. And for the displaced American history lecturer: plentiful desk space, wi-fi and always somewhere to charge your phone.

Emma had always considered the place to be kind of her little secret. No matter the time of year or weather, it was never too crowded. But there was no mistaking the leather-clad figure sat alone in the second row, feet up on the desk, nose buried in a thin paperback.

He didn’t register her proximity as Emma made her approach, even as she bent down to get a better look at what had him so engrossed.

‘‘Codes, Ciphers and Secret Writing’?” Emma read aloud, perversely gratified to see him lurch forward in his seat, caught unawares. She clicked her tongue as she took the seat next door. “If you’re considering taking up a career as a spy, you might want to make yourself slightly harder to sneak up on. Just a tip.”

He set the book down on the desk, shooting her a somewhat annoyed glance. “Well this is a turn up for the books. It’s been so long between texts I thought maybe you’d done in one of your students, and were lost to the ravages of the criminal justice system forever.”

Emma made a face.

“No? Well, small mercies I suppose. And fancy seeing you here. I didn’t really pick you for a fan of French Renaissance architecture, Swan. Or was there some other marvel you’d come to admire?” He asked, batting his eyelashes in the kind of over-the-top way that would put a silent film ingénue to shame.

Emma rolled her eyes. “Sorry to deflate that massive ego of yours, but I’m not stalking you. I’m just here for the free wi-fi. How was I supposed to know you’d be here… studying spycraft?”

“So just a happy coincidence then?” He held her gaze for a moment, like he didn’t quite believe her. “Well then, as to the book, believe me, Swan, I have zero aspirations towards the Security Services. Callum, however…”

At that, a young woman a few rows down glanced up from her MacBook to give them the evil eye, and Killian ducked his head, slipping a piece of paper from out between the pages of the book, marked with an indecipherable jumble of numbers written in a childish blue scrawl.

“He’s off penguins for the minute,” he continued, his voice now little more than a hushed whisper. “Now it’s codes. Ciphers. Secret communiqués. Which wouldn’t be so bad, perhaps, if the lad hadn’t refused to communicate in any other way...” He scrubbed a hand over his face, his frustration plain.

By the sound of it, things might have been a little tense at the breakfast table lately.  

Emma whistled through her teeth, though she fought to match his soft tones. “Wow. I think when I was eight years old, all I cared about was ponies.”

He glanced up at her then, the unspoken ‘Is that so?’ making her cheeks color. Even when he said nothing at all, Killian still found ways to make her regret every casual remark, every tiny breadcrumb she unwittingly left behind of the childhood she’d tried so hard to forget.

“Let me see that,” Emma said hotly, snatching the coded message from where it lay before him, leaning forward to examine it.

Then without thinking too much about it, she plucked the red pen from her hair that she’d been using to keep her bun in place, and set about making a series of tiny scribbles.

Killian, his book apparently forgotten, leaned over to study her work. “Know a thing or two about ciphers, do we, lass?”

Emma shrugged. “A bit. It came free with my John Jay obsession. But Callum’s what? Eight, right? So it’s probably not anything too difficult…”

The numbers could mean he was using a book as the key. Each number corresponding to a page and paragraph in the book where the desired word lay. Jay had been a fan of that particular method. He’d favored a dictionary as his key, usually. But the numbers Callum had written…

Emma drew up the matrix, smiling to herself as the childish meaning behind the code slowly became clear. She twisted the paper back in Killian’s direction with a victorious flourish.

“Lachie... is... a…” she translated. “Well, you can see for yourself.”

Killian’s eyes widened looking from the paper, back to Emma, his mouth agape. “You’re bloody brilliant, Swan.”

Emma wasn’t sure she’d ever been told that before. By anyone. Certainly not by someone who’d never been on the receiving end of one of her blow jobs. It was a single stray thought that stuck uncomfortably in her thoughts, and had her barreling on in a hurry to fill the awkward pause.

“It’s a six-sided Polybius square,” Emma explained, keeping her eyes trained to the piece of paper. “I’m pretty sure I read somewhere POWs in Vietnam used a variant of it to communicate between their cells. But Callum’s numbers only go up to 6, so I… what?”

He was staring.

“Nothing,” he said with a cough, though she could see the tips of his ears turning pink.

“You okay?”

He shook his head. “Of course. I was just thinking…”

“Thinking what?” Emma asked warily.

Looking kind of like he’d rather the ground rose up and swallowed him instead, Killian sighed and met Emma’s eye, shooting her a look that was so direct she was tempted to scoot her chair back to give them some space. “I was just thinking that Dr Swan is quite a good look on you.”

Emma opened her mouth, to what? Scoff? Say thank you? Luckily, she never had to find out, the silence punctuated by a series of conspicuous buzzing noises.

Emma heard MacBook Girl’s muttered curse. As if she wasn’t just dicking around on Facebook, like everyone else.

“Forgive me,” Killian murmured, clearing his throat and reaching into his pocket and fishing out the device. Whatever he read on that screen, his face immediately pulled into a tight frown and he rose out of his chair all at once.

“Everything okay?” Emma asked, growing concerned.

“Hmmm.”

It was not the most convincing sound Emma had ever heard.

As if somehow sensing Emma’s frustration, he raised his gaze from the phone to look at her, his expression softening a fraction around the eyes. “Apologies, Swan,” he said with a pained smile. “It appears I’m needed elsewhere.”

He hovered a moment, his weight shifting restlessly from foot to foot. “I need to head back to the office first. Would you like to walk with me? Or is the lure of free wi-fi too good an inducement to pass up?”

Emma glanced down at her watch, which showed the time to be little past noon. She’d been planning on enjoying the silence of solitude of the library a little more. Make a dent in her grading somewhere with decent heating and what passed for natural light.

But given the look on his face right now, and the way he was clenching his jaw, the fact that he’d even asked meant he probably really, really needed the distraction. And Emma might be pretty selfish on her best days, but she wasn’t cruel. And it just so happened, she had a particular distraction in mind.

“Sure,” she said, letting some of her weight fall onto his proffered prosthetic, as she rose from her chair.

“Sure, I’ve got time.”

Yeah, he was a fan of the laser tag idea.

His mood wasn’t buoyant exactly, as they wended their way along Castle Terrace, dodging Chinese tour groups who were arriving by the busload, selfie sticks at the ready. But the idea of Emma making a humiliating spectacle of herself certainly seemed to hold some kind of appeal for him.

He was no longer actively brooding.

“I can just picture it now; Emma Swan: Jungle Warrior.”

Emma snorted. Then she opened her mouth to refute this, and then closed it again, considering her track record.

Killian considered her shrewdly. “Something you’d like to share with the class?”

“I don’t know…I don’t know if you know this about me, but I’m kind of competitive. The last time I did something like this, it got kind of… ugly.”

“Define ugly.”

“We went paintballing for David’s birthday one year and August ended up in the ER with a dislocated knee.”

Killian winced.

“He says he can still feel it when it rains. Of course, he’s a novelist, so he’s kind of known for being needlessly dramatic so...”

Encouraged by the prospect of mayhem, the usual mischievous sparkle was returning to Killian’s eyes. “I think this competitive side is something I’ve got to see for myself.”

“Too bad you’re not invited, then, huh?”

“I could be…?” Oh no. No way. Was he really pulling puppy dog eyes right now?

“No way. Not happening. You can put those eyes away. It’s a work event. The administration are already on my case about this whole thing enough as it is.”

“And if I talk them ‘round?”

“You’re not going to get the administration to change their minds about me with a winsome smile and pretty boy charm.”

“You think I’m pretty?”

Emma just rolled her eyes, and nudged him into the path of an oncoming tour group.

When I got back to the library I realized you left your book, btw. I returned it. Figured you didn’t need it anymore? ES

Indeed I don’t. In cracking his code, I believe you’ve exhausted Callum’s sudden passion for cryptography. At least, for now. Elsa would like to express her eternal gratitude. KJ

Wow. Look at me, extinguishing a young boy’s thirst for learning. Clearly I’ve got this whole teacher thing on lockdown. ES

Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. I saw him googling nebulas on the iPad earlier. I dare say another obsession is in the offing. One that might drive his mother a little less insane. KJ

Well, that’s something. ES

Okay, so clearly the administration was into winsome smiles and pretty boy charm, because the next thing Emma knew, she was seated on a university-chartered bus headed out into the hinterland, her columnist stretched out of the seat beside her.

Because that was a super normal thing to bring along to a work event.

Emma found it easiest to ignore the curious looks of her bus-mates by picturing how she was going to wipe the floor with each and every one of them when they got to where they were going.

For the most part, the reluctant recruits they’d manage to scrape together from the School of Social & Political Science did not inspire awe. Emma was pretty sure she could take them. Between Tracy from Social Anthro with her scoliosis, and Glen from British Politics with his spare tire, they seemed a pretty ragtag bunch, not suited to roughing it in the great outdoors.

There was only one among them who looked like a contender, the bearded guy in the army surplus jacket dozing at the back of the bus.

His possible narcolepsy aside, he at least seemed to be in decent shape, if the cut of jaw was any indication. As if he could feel her gaze on him, his eyes blinked open, and Emma turned back to Killian, who’d suddenly trailed off mid-sentence.

“And you didn’t hear anything I just said, did you?”

Emma cringed inwardly. “Sorry. I was just sizing up the competition.”

“Oh?” He enquired, his tone lightening. “And how do they measure up, in your estimation?”

Emma shrugged. “I think it’s in the bag. Our combined youth-”

“Your fighting spirit-” Killian interrupted.

“And the fact the history department won against the Divinity School last year...  ,” Emma continued, ignoring him.

“What about Rambo over there?” Killian asked, raising his chin to indicate the same guy Emma had been caught checking out before. “He looks like he might present a challenge.”

“Yeah, well,” Emma said, refusing to follow his gaze. “We’ll see.”

If Emma thought she might be able to somehow avoid this handsome stranger, maybe she should have remembered that she was cursed. Because when they nominated team captains, somehow it was him that Emma found herself facing off against.

The two of them stood awkwardly, forced to wait while some teenaged employee scrounged around in the pockets of his cargo pants for a coin to flip to determine territory.

And he was handsome, there was no getting around it. Nice hair, just on the manageable side of curly. Admittedly impressive biceps peeking out from underneath an ill-fitting plastic breastplate. Not to mention the warm, friendly smile as he held out a hand.

“Best of luck,” he said.

Oh, and an accent. A very nice accent.   

“And to you,” Emma said graciously, accepting the handshake. She might have been naturally competitive, but there was no need to be rude.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you on campus before,” he mentioned casually, even as his hand still clasped over hers. “I’m Graham Humbert, International Relations.”

The way he said it, with his tongue peeking out to wet his lower lip, she wondered if he was flirting with her. She wondered if she wanted him to be.

“Emma Swan,” she replied, letting her hand fall back down to her side, palm tingling. “American History.”

Killian

Killian Jones was no stranger to using his masculine wiles to his advantage. Though he’d been something of an awkward youth, his university years had been their own sort of education, quite aside from his unfinished philosophy degree.

Now, as a mediocre journalist with few moral scruples, he employed charm and flattery as tools of the trade. What better way to put an interview subject at ease? Or finesse that long-guarded secret from someone’s lips?

True, Saorsa was hardly The Guardian. He wasn’t uncovering government corruption at it’s highest levels or netting himself any Pulitzers. Though he did manage to stir up a hornet’s nest in Parliament that one time, after he got a MSP to admit to an extra-marital affair. Necessary to the public interest it was not, but it never did the circulation numbers any harm.

It was these skills he thought might help secure him a spot on the team bus to Lugton Bogs, the aptly named quagmire that was home to Edinburgh’s premier, and only, outdoor laser tag centre. Or at the very least, might improve Emma’s standing with the university after a rocky start.

Killian’s first port of call? The Press and Public Relations department, tucked away in cobbled alley near Sandy Bell’s. And from the rising stink of it, mostly treated as an open latrine by some of the male patrons of said watering hole after one too many libations at the weekend.

The inside was decidedly more pleasant, sheltered from the stench by double glazed windows and a heavy steel door. The office itself was attractive enough, a hive of industry playing to the soundtrack of ringing telephones. He stopped to ask the way to the right office, and was directed up to the first floor, where cubicles gave way to actual offices.

It was a promising start, he thought. That is, until he seated himself in a rather uncomfortable chair outside his target office, and had gotten a good look at the nameplate velcroed to the door.

That Killian’s quarry turned out to be a male was regrettable, and a waste of Killian’s talents.  That Killian’s quarry turned out to be none other than Robert Gold, native Glaswegian and former husband of one Belle French, Killian thought perhaps it wasn’t too late to do the honourable thing and fall on his sword.

He’d never been stupid enough to name Belle directly, but realistically, how many Australian librarians in Edinburgh could there be? And here was the very man Killian had publicly outed just a few short months ago, as a man who’d chosen his pill addiction over his marriage.

This was the man he had sought?

Killian was already halfway to his feet, ready to skive off their meeting with great urgency, when the door opened and out stepped a slight, silver-haired man, leaning heavily on a cane.

Tink hadn’t been lying when she’d said he’d been older.

“Killian Jones, is it?” he asked, looking bored.

Hello, rock. Hello, hard place. Killian’s first temptation was still to flee, but seeing as he was half-standing in plain sight, it seemed that ship had long sailed.

Instead he straightened, and held out a hand, trying to keep his voice quiver-free. “Aye, Killian Jones. I believe you’re the man to see about getting oneself included on an employee outing?”

For all his vices, Robert Gold did have one thing to his credit; he did not seem to be a Saorsa subscriber. Indeed, Killian’s name did not seem to bring about any flash of recognition. Nor, to Killian’s immense relief, a sudden zeal to sue for libel.

Though now Killian knew what to look for, he very much doubted the man would have much legal grounds. From the sweat soaking through his dress shirt, to the sallow complexion, to the pupils round as saucers, there was no way Robert Gold wasn’t in the throes of some chemical cocktail. The single life clearly wasn’t working for him.

He did, however, seem for the moment to be all-business.

“Laser tag?” he enquired.

Not sure if he was asking for an explanation, or merely a confirmation, Killian hesitated. “Something of an annual tradition from what I understand. Pitting department against department, all in the name of friendly competition.”

Gold nodded, absently.

“And this…” He peered down to examine the form in front of him. “... Emma Swan. You’re writing a column about her personal life?”

“It’s more an exploration on the nature of adult friendships. How difficult it is to make meaningful connections when you find yourself separated from your familiar networks. Emma is merely a vehicle I’m using to…” Killian fumbled for a suitable word. “...illustrate the point.”

“Hmmm.”

With any luck, that “Hmmm” meant that Gold found the idea tedious, and never wanted to hear about it again. Still, Killian wondered how long it would take him to convince their IT guy to “accidentally” corrupt the link to February’s column online.

“And you feel it would be helpful to you if you ‘tagged along’ on this outing?”

Truthfully, now he’d gotten Ruby to confirm Emma’s ER story, he mostly just wanted to watch her in action. But something told him Gold wouldn’t be particularly sympathetic to his plight.

“I think it would lend my words a certain credibility, if I was actually present for the events, certainly.”

Gold looked thoughtful, as if he was actually entertaining the idea. Or perhaps he was just meaning to add his next date with his dealer to his personal calendar. At any rate, he didn’t make Killian wait too long.

“There’s a number of forms to fill out,” the Glaswegian declared airily, pulling a stack of papers from a filing cabinet. “And some insurance concerns. I imagine your employer can email through proof of that?”

Could they? Killian certainly hoped so.

“Aye, of course.”

“Of course, we don’t ask for copy approval ahead of time, we’re not totalitarian savages. But you should be aware that we are always looking for ways to promote the university as a diverse, innovative and enjoyable workplace. Sometimes this means entering partnerships with members of the fourth estate, and sometimes that means breaking off such arrangements, if we feel our aims are not in concert. If you understand my meaning?”

Don’t burn any bridges. Duly noted.

At Killian’s nod of acquiescence, Gold clapped his hands together. “Well then, dearie, it looks like we have ourselves a deal. Blue pen, or black?”

And you thought it couldn’t be done. KJ

You didn’t. ES

I did. KJ

Please tell me you’re joking? ES

Alas, the cramp I’m nursing after signing near a dozen documents in triplicate says otherwise. I am UoE approved, and ready to watch Emma Swan go full berserker. KJ

I hate you. ES

I know. KJ

“Players must keep two hands on the phaser at all time to activate it. This is a safety feature which prevents the phaser being held at an arm’s length,” Killian read the tiny warning sticker on the side of his gun aloud.

Well, wasn’t that just fantastic.

Killian looked around for some teenaged, zero-hour contract flunky he could flag down, but after the initial hubbub of the coin toss, they’d all but vanished. The stand of trees stood all but empty now, except for the handful of middle-aged academics in green vests, wheezing as they made their way over the rise.

Sod it.

His gun might be fucking useless, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do what he came here to do: Watch Emma Swan kick arse and take names.

She really was in fine form. She might have been surprised by her appointment to team captain, but Killian wasn’t. She was the only one among them who actually looked like they knew what they were doing, and objectively speaking, she looked good doing it.

And as the reluctantly appointed leader, she was the one leading the charge to the enemy compound, organising her little band using military tactics she’d probably lifted straight from Che Guevara. This was exactly why people shouldn’t cross history professors.

Expending the last of his lung capacity, Killian caught up with Emma’s splinter group, just in time to hear the electronic sound effect that signalled a direct hit to the man to his left.

“Six o’ clock,” Killian bellowed, diving for the cover of the nearest tree stump. Emma was already there, pinned down by two more red-vests advancing from the other side.

“Alright, Swan?” he asked, wiping at his forehead with the sleeve of his useless arm.

To his delight, she actually seemed to be enjoying this, her face aflush with activity, her grin wide. She turned his way, tucking a stray tuft of hair behind her ear. “Give us the the tools, and we will finish the job.”

Churchill. She was quoting fucking Churchill.

But as she heard her compatriots fall to enemy fire, he could see the enthusiasm in her eyes visibly dim with each electronic squeal. If they stayed here too long, Rambo and the lasses from Gender Studies were going to pick them off, one by one.

Someone had to do something, and quickly.

And that someone might as well be the eejit with the gun that didn’t bloody work.

Nudging Emma’s shoulder, he pointed to a pile of boulders a little way off. “You make for those, and I’ll cover you.”

Emma looked from the pile, back to Killian. “Are you crazy? That’s like twenty yards. There’s no way we’ll both make it.”

“Only one way to know for sure,” Killian said, rising from his hiding place, and giving her no choice but to follow his lead.

“Aargh,” she cried, scrambling to her feet, rifle at the ready. “You know I hate you, right?”

“Aye, Swan,” he said, swinging to face his aggressors head-on. “I know.”

It wasn’t a drawn-out death.

To Killian’s satisfaction, a few of them had turned and fled when they saw him stand up. But Rambo, the bearded leader of the opposition seemed clue-ier than his friends. He saw the diversion for what it was. And as Emma darted out from behind the stump, he set his sights accordingly. Might have gotten her too, if Killian hadn’t stepped into the line of fire.

“You do know the purpose of the game is not to get hit, right?” Rambo called after him.

But instead of replying, Killian merely slung his rifle up onto his shoulder and headed back to the holding area, humming a song under his breath.

In the end, Emma decimated them, as he knew she would. All but Rambo, that cocksure son of a bitch. He had military training, of that Killian was certain. Or at least a stint in the cadets. He was a little too at ease, in Killian’s view.

Still, Emma managed to hold her own, waiting the bastard out until the clock ran down.

A draw.

He thought he might shout Emma a drink for this. Something tall and refreshing. But as she emerged from the stand of trees, still aglow with near-victory, he saw she wasn’t alone. Rambo strode along beside her, the two of them getting on suspiciously well for people who’d just been trying to “kill” one another.

Killian shrank back, letting himself fall back into a crowd of archaeology professors, comparing aches and pains. They certainly weren’t of the Indiana Jones mould.

He wouldn’t say he watched them. He merely observed them, like any other dispassionate member of the fourth estate. And how could he not notice his subject’s pleasure at this man’s company? The way her gaze dropped downward as they shook hands, a rare show of shyness.

Emma liked him. Rambo. Whatever his name was. Even a blind man could see it.

As far as the project was concerned, this was good news. Emma Swan, single and ready to mingle? Hell, it was a boon. Not to say one’s social life never suffered from embarking on a new relationship, but it was a damned sight better than Emma staying home every night with her marking and her Netflix.

So why did the sight of Emma typing her number into the man’s phone suddenly make Killian feel queasy? This was a good thing.

He should be happy for her.

Getting home took a little longer than anticipated. Not least because he stopped by the Jingles on the way and emptied out their stores of Captain Morgan.

“Maybe you should call it a night, eh?” the bar man suggested, just around the time Killian’s vision started going blurry.

Recalling Liam’s last lecture about “unnecessary expenses” he walked the rest of the way home, taking a somewhat circuitous route through a few back gardens.

He struggled with the lock, frustrated to find his keys kept slipping from his hand. He almost had it when the door suddenly fell in, and Killian with it.

“What the-”

Who else but Liam stood over him, arms crossed in that same look of quiet disappointment he’d been wearing for years.

“Good night was it?” his brother asked coolly, reaching forward to help him up.

“Geroff me, you judgy git,” Killian scowled, rising to his feet perfectly well on his own, with nary a wobble. “Would ‘ave been fine, you hadn’t opened the door like that.”

Liam stepped away, hands held up in surrender. “If you insist.” And then after a moment, “Why do you look like you’ve been at the Somme?”  

Killian looked down at himself, to the best approximation of combat clothes his wardrobe had to offer, now caked in mud to the knee, and streaked with dirt elsewhere.

“Laser tag,” Killian replied. “S’for work.”

“Hmm,” Liam hummed. “Let me guess, you weren’t on the winning side?”

If you wanted to get technical about it, it had been a draw. But deep down, Killian couldn’t kid himself on that front. 

Whichever side he’d been on had definitely been the losing one.

And how were drinks with Rambo? KJ

Graham. His name is Graham. ES

So it is. Does that sharp rebuke mean that in addition to guerrilla warfare, the man also excels at scintillating conversation over cocktails? KJ

Has anyone ever told you you’re a shameless gossip? ES

Once or twice. Though I much prefer the term “indomitable busybody.” That’s my favourite. KJ

Gee, I wonder why. And for your information, it wasn’t terrible. ES

Coming from you, Swan, that’s almost a ringing endorsement. KJ

23  25-32-33-45  51-33-43  42-33-33-25    42-22-11-42  12-26-11-41-42   16-33-36  31-15. ES

23’31  41-43-36-15  23 22-11-44-15  32-33  23-14-15-11  45-22-11-42  5-33-43  31-15-11-32. KJ

Whatever you say, buddy. Good night, Killian. ES

Good night, Emma. KJ

[gentleman-tanuki-blog]

So, I'm exceedingly dumb everyone. It didn't cross my mind until just about...20 minutes ago, that instead of waiting for emails of my photos to be received so I could upload them to my computer, that I could just connect my phone to my computer and move the photos directly on it. Live and learn.

Now, where were we again? Right, just got Sanderson. I was eager to get my run started, so it was off to Route 103 to find May and have the cliche "first rival battle". Her Mudkip got some decent crits in, so I had to use two potions before I managed to win that one. Slow bump in the start, but I really wanted to just get my first set of Pokeballs and get to building my team.

It was back to Littleroot Town to talk with Professor Birch and let him give me the Pokedex. Seeing as the events in Hoenn are taking place at the exact same time as the events over in Kanto with Red, I can understand us being handed essentially blank Pokedexes to be filled with knowledge. This makes sense. What doesn't make too much sense to me is this formula being repeated afterwards. What? Did Oak and Birch refuses to share this knowledge with the rest of the world? Why doesn't every Pokedex from the end of Gen I/Gen III forward have the Kanto and Hoenn species pre-programmed in? Stupid game mechanics.

My first capture was Yuki the Poochyena, with an assigned number of 3. Now, before anyone asks, yes, I did tip toe through all the grass to make sure I had no encounters before triggering the "here's how to use your Dexnav" tutorial with May. After her was Salty the Wingull with an assigned number of 6 and Varnish the Seedot with an assigned number of 5. I'm really liking how this team is shaping up, knowing Roxanne is on the horizon. On the flip side of that, my prospects against Brawly don't look...well...amazing. Probably going to brute force my way with him.

Moving on to Petalburg, it was time to meet up with my absentee dad and help my real rival Wally catch his Ralts. I really do wonder where the fathers are for every other game; even a casual mention of "oh, he's working so hard blah blah blah" would suffice, but it makes all the other moms look like widows or more "conventional" single parents. Also, why does Wally's clothes look like pajamas in this one? I feel bad smacking around a kid with asthama who just rolled out of bed. And if they wanted him to have a Gardevoir, why not program the Ralts to be female? We have Gallade now, so gender matters.

Killing time for my emails to go through, I re-acquainted myself with Pokemon Amie. I barely understood how much I could miss it until I was playing it again. Pokemon Refresh from Gen VII was nice for the free Full Heal after a battle and instant full affection once you got rainbow beans, but it was a pain in the rear early on in a run. I much prefer just being awesome at Head It, thank you very much.

Well, that's it for this one!